cleaning – Mansploitation

The Fraternity Man

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

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

The Boxer

When Avery sees the legendary heavyweight boxer Wallace Stamper in the gym, he takes a chance and makes him an offer — he’ll pay for his gym membership in exchange for a swing on his fat alpha male meat. Can Wallace perform for Avery despite his cornerman trying to stop it?!

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

“C’mon, Wallace, you don’t need this place.”
They turned around and headed back into the locker room. Avery watched from within the locker room, then he headed away from the door so it wasn’t obvious he was eavesdropping.
He resumed mopping the locker room floor — it was his job at the Cornerside Gym, after all. He didn’t look in the direction of the man he was here to find: Wallace
It was always hard to force yourself to “look casual”, but that was what Avery did. He affected a complacent pose, idly sliding the mop about as though he had been at this for hours and had no chance of finishing soon.
A few ropy-muscled black men showered a few feet away, but Avery wasn’t interested in them, and they totally ignored him. A hunky Puerto Rican with a fledgling mustache changed into workout gear on one of the benches. Avery would have loved to jerk him off, but that wasn’t why he had come here.
He had come here to meet Wallace Stamper, the greatest heavyweight boxer in the world. Avery didn’t actually follow the sport, but he was very good and very famous.
And he had a body to die for.
And, it seemed, Wallace couldn’t afford to pay for his gym. His trainer, friend and cornerman followed him into the locker room. That was a handsome Italian man named Valdemaro. He was arousing too, in his way. Like the Puerto Rican, Avery might have jerked him off gladly if there weren’t a grade-A specimen of manhood right next to him. At the moment, though, Avery had eyes only for Wallace Stamper
“Fuck that asshole,” Wallace said with a hostile growl. He shadowboxed the air in the sauna.
“Relax, Wallace, it’s okay,” Valdemaro said. “We’ll work this out. You don’t need a gym to train anyway. We’ll go home and you can punch that mattress. You run home, okay? You run home, I’ll take the bus and meet you there.”
“Shut up, Valdemaro.” Wallace punctuated each word with a punch in the air.
“Come on, don’t be depressed. You’re gonna win on Saturday, I can feel it. With that purse, you’ll be able to pay for the gym membership for years to come,” Valdemaro said. He had a charming grin, but it didn’t look like Wallace was buying his optimism.
Avery pushed between them. He stood in front of Wallace and smiled. He made sure to seem as feminine as possible. “Hi,” he said with an impish smile. “I’m Avery.”
“Nice to meetcha, Avery,” Wallace said. His grumpy face frowned. He was big and thick-chested, with a deep barrel voice like a dragon, and he made Avery shiver in place. Wallace picked up on that. He sneered and sighed, flexing his pecs. “Whatchoo want, man?”
“Uh… I saw your match a little while ago. You’re so good,” Avery said. “You’re a legend.”
“Thank you, sir,” Valdemaro said, touching Avery on the shoulder to get his attention. He tried to hurry him along, to get him away from Wallace.
But Avery just shrugged him off. He smiled flirtatiously at Wallace. “I bet girls throw themselves at you.”
Wallace beamed. “Yeah, kinda. Some. Lotta girls don’t like big guys,” he said. He demonstrated his size by pumping one bicep. He licked his lips and chuckled when Avery grabbed it with both hands and kissed it. Avery licked Wallace’s bicep from his elbow all the way to his shoulder, then he flickered his tongue into Wallace’s sweat-moist armpit.
“Oh, hey, no way, sorry,” Valdemaro said. He pulled Avery away.
Wallace growled. “Shut the fuck up, Valdemaro.” He looked Avery right in the eye, not breaking his gaze. He was such a huge, hulking brute that Avery shivered in fear. His arms were like a stack of pumpkins, his legs thicker than Avery’s whole body, and his ass was thick and juicy like a pair of chicken pot pies. When he moved, his buttcheeks jiggled and his massive pecs shifted up and down with each step.
Despite his trepidation, Avery did not think he was in danger. Wallace looked at him like a hungry man looks at a meal, while Valdemaro continued shooing Avery away. Avery could tell Wallace wanted to bust a nut, but not where anyone could see it, including Valdemaro.
Wallace glanced around. The Puerto Rican was finishing his shower, his long, uncut cock gleaming in the moisture and steamy air. The other men had finished and were walking out the door.
“Wallace, we should go,” Valdemaro said. He kissed the crucifix around his neck. He glared at Avery, then wrapped one arm around Wallace’s wide body, hugging him close and gently pushing him towards the door.
“I said shut the fuck up, Valdemaro. You ain’t in charge of mah dick,” Wallace said. He grabbed his cock through his satin boxing shorts.
“I, uh, I’m in charge of your training, Wallace. That includes your moral development,” Valdemaro said. “I know you know the Bible. Jesus wouldn’t want you doin’ nothin’ you can’t tell ya mama ’bout.”
“Shut the fuck up, Valdemaro. God forgives, don’t he? Even the Cath-olics believe that, right? Confession and shit.”
“That’s not… You have to have real regret in your heart,” Valdemaro said. “Wallace-“
“I’ll pay,” Avery said. He pulled out the three hundred dollars in his pocket. “Is this enough to cover the gym membership?”
Judging from the look on both men’s faces, it was more than enough. Valdemaro snatched it. His Christian morals seemed to have vanished into thin air. He smiled and whistled a jaunty tune. “Okay. You two have fun. I’ll go pay at the front desk.”
He walked away. Wallace grinned at Avery. He glanced at the Puerto Rican, who was oblivious, then he looked at a door on one outer wall of the locker room. He stood up and walked towards it. From the way he walked, it was apparent his cock was already hard. Those giant asscheeks jiggled up and down with each step he took.
“C’mon, girlboy, the sauna’s in here,” Wallace said. He opened the door, and steam billowed out. His hefty body shifted as he slipped in. Avery followed. The heat and humidity hit Avery like a punch to the face.
Wallace had stopped right there by the door, so Avery’s face planted into his mountainous back. His muscles rippled and sweat dripped onto Avery’s lips. He sucked it all up, while Wallace quickly dropped his shorts and stepped out of them. His ass was framed by elastic straps.
He had on those old-fashioned white jockstraps, the strappy, unglamorous kind, dingy and worn with age. Avery moaned at the sight — he hadn’t been expecting that, but now that he saw it, he wanted to suck on it. He pulled it off Wallace’s body and put the whole thing in his mouth. The taste of old funky sweat, soaked in and wildly fragrant, flooded his senses. The jockstrap was so wet it tasted soggy, gritty with salt crystals that remained on the fabric, and the stink of Wallace’s heavy ballsac made Avery’s eyes water, not that that slowed him down at all.
“Oh, damn, you get nasty,” Wallace said. He shook his head and laughed, clutching his belly as though he needed to hold it in and it took all of his muscles to do so.
The jockstrap was sour and salty, and Avery drooled over it. While he loved the taste and the grimy feel of it in his mouth too, the hottest part was Wallace’s reaction, his big squarish face showing equal parts disgust and delight, like he was disgusted that Avery would do such a thing but delighted that his own body fluids would bring someone such joy.
Eventually though, the jockstrap just tasted like spit, and Avery dropped it to the floor. He tweaked each of Wallace’s nipples, making his pecs bounce and Avery’s heart skip a beat. Wallace still had a bemused smile on his face, and he didn’t react to Avery’s fingers on his nipples.
Since he didn’t complain, Avery shifting from tweaking his nipples to sucking on them, while his hands massaged the firmness of Wallace’s torso. His muscles flexed.
“A’ight, prettyboy, you got’cha taste,” Wallace said. “You gonna get me off or what?”
“I definitely am!” Avery said and sunk to his knees, while Wallace plopped his heavy ass down on one of the wooden benches in the sauna. He leaned back and spread his legs. He was so big he took up at least a quarter of the entire sauna, arms outstretched. His balls hung down, cock dangling. He leaned his head back and sighed.
His dick was half-hard already. Avery sensed that he was extremely horny — maybe that cornerman Valderamo prevented him from fucking any women, to keep his testosterone high for fights. His dick jumped right out of his hand when Avery touched it. Wallace gasped and bit his lip. Avery stroked it. It was moist with sweat and condensation from the air, and it twitched as soon as Avery’s fingers danced over his shaft.
“You got nice hands, boy,” Wallace said. “Nice and soft. I like the way yo’ fingers feel.” He didn’t open his eyes. He groaned, chest rumbling, tongue lolling around within his mouth.
“You got a nice cock,” Avery said, whispering like a shy girl.
That made Wallace chuckle and moan. He gently guided Avery’s head down to Wallace’s dick. Avery opened up and swallowed it in one smooth motion, lowering his head until his nose squashed into Wallace’s hairy crotch.
“Goddamn,” Wallace said. “Lordie, fuckin’s hell, fuck…” He gasped and raised his brow. His dick swelled in Avery’s mouth, moisture coating Avery’s tongue with his unwashed flavor. Wallace moaned like he was scratching an itch he’d been waiting to scratch for a long time. His whole body shook, his limbs all flexing and rippling in turn.
Avery’s hands explored Wallace’s broad chest, tweaking his nipples and playing with the network of kinky fur that covered his pecs. He was very hairy for a black man, with coarse hairs coating his pecs and running in a treasure trail down his belly. Wallace’s muscles twitched beneath his touch.
“Hey, you know Roger?” Wallace asked suddenly. He pulled Avery off his cock.
“Who? No. I ain’t from around here,” Avery said. His tongue flickered as he tried to go back to sucking, but Wallace held his head in place, just near enough that he could taste that cock but not actually resume sucking on it.
“Oh he ain’t from around here neither. He from Nashville. But he a… he a sensitive type, like you, with soft fingers like yo’s. He do slurp a nigga nut up.”
“We don’t all know each other.”
Wallace shrugged. “Okay. You handle mah dick better than him, that’s all. And you pay, I like that,” he said. “He just do it fo’s fun.”
Avery furrowed his brow at that. He assumed he needed to pay, but it seemed Wallace would do this for free if he asked nice enough. licked his dickshaft, his tongue tracing the veins that run all the way up from root to tip. Avery could tell that Wallace liked that because his cock spasmed, precum leaking out.
The salty flavor of semen filled Avery’s senses. Wallace continued to talk, telling some story about how Roger jerks him off whenever he’s in Nashville for a fight — Wallace said he never let Valdemaro know about it because Valdemaro was Catholic and snooty and he don’t approve of jacking off, whether alone or with another man. Valdemaro thought a man should save his seed for the marital bed.
“I ain’t nevuh think he was gonna ‘pprove of me dippin into yo’s ass,” Wallace said with a snorting laugh. “Guess he don’t care ’bout none of that if you got the green. Shoulda been tellin’s him all along that Roger be payin’. I thought payin’ fo’ it makes it worse, right? But Roger don’t give a shit. I don’t get Catholics.”
Avery gurgled as he happily sucked. He giggled. Wallace kept talking as though he was having a real conversation, though Avery didn’t respond at all.
“You evuh been to a Catholic mass? Valdemaro took me once. It was weird. I ain’t like it,” Wallace said. “Confession is fuckin’ strange. I ain’t tellin’ some pervuht priest ’bout my sins and shit. That’s between me and God, ya dig?” He leaned his head back and closed his eyes again. “Yo, man, can you suck on my balls a bit? You do that? Winchell Green did that. You know him?”
“I don’t know him,” Avery said, rolling his eyes. He dropped his head between Wallace’s legs and slurped on both of his balls at once. Wallace had heavy, pendulous balls and a hairy sac, which Avery loved. It was slick with sweat and precum, so moist that Avery could slurp the juices off as Wallace groaned.
“Yeah, I ain’t think you would. He in prison. Still there, ‘far as I know,” Wallace said. “He was my cellmate. He licked balls fo’ hours. Some nights he jerk my dick till I nut, then he lick my balls while I play cards or somethin’, then I get hard and he swallow up my dick again.”
“Uh-huh,” Avery said around the balls throbbing in his throat.
“You evuh been in prison, whiteboy? That where you learn this shit?”
“No,” Avery said. He went back to licking Wallace’s cockshaft, working his kisses up and down the veiny underside of his meat.
“Well, you be queen in there, I swear to God. If you was my cellmate, I’d tell you I love you, and I wouldn’t nevuh pimp you out, no way. Not unless you want it,” Wallace said with a chortling laugh. “You give up the ass, right?”
“Yes,” Avery said. His voice was muffled and moistened by the ballsac he kept furiously slurping on, while both hands stroked Wallace’s fat cock. It spasmed in his fingers.
“Then yeah, you be my prison queen,” Wallace said. “Fuckin’ hell. Why don’t girls evuh like suckin’ balls, huh? I ask this girl one time and she say ‘nah’, she say don’t no one suck balls. She say no way, no how, no time, not evuh. Fuckin’sbitch.”
“Uh-huh,” Avery said. He was too aroused to really pay attention to Wallace, who smacked Avery’s asscheeks. He whistled at the sight of their jiggling.
“Hmm-hmm! Hell yeah! Fuckin’ hell. You like big homeboys, right? Huh? I know this homeboy in the Tennessee State Pen’tent’ary. You wanna be his bitch? Shit, you could retire there,” Wallace said with a laugh. “You just gotta commit a state crime, ya dig? You into that?”
“No thanks,” Avery said. He rubbed Wallace’s dick over his face. He kept flickering his tongue out to tease him. Wallace smiled — he liked dragging this out as much as he could. He bent over and stuck his ass in the air. “It doesn’t matter. Just cornhole me, stick it in me, all the way in, as hard as you can….”
“Hell yeah! I will wreck you, whiteboy. You said as hard as I can, you said that and I’s gonna hold you to it, boy!” Wallace cackled and clapped his hands, then he checked the sauna door to be sure no one was coming. His fat cock stuck out from his crotch like an antenna, and then he got behind Avery. His rod stabbed Avery in the small of his back. Wallace had to bend his knees to get his cock low enough to line up with Avery’s asshole, and he wrapped both arms around Avery’s body. “You ready, whiteboy? It’s goin’ in…”
Avery gasped and jerked his head as Wallace’s cock slid into him. Pain exploded in his ass. It lasted only a second though. Wallace spat on his palm and wiped the lube off on his dick, which combined with the slickness of the steam that filled the sauna to make his dick slip right in.
Pressure erupted in his ass, followed by a twinge of pleasure that grew stronger with every passing second. It hurt too, but the pain was overshadowed by the positive sensations wracking his body. Avery slid all the way down. He rarely took such a huge dick that quickly, but Wallace pulled him by the shoulders down. Avery squealed and slipped, losing his balance so his hands and feet were both in the air. Wallace’s powerful body gripped him however, and held him in position atop Wallace’s cock. Neither man moved for a moment.
“So… this do hurt, right? Roger say he like it, but it do hurt. Winchell say it hurt and he don’t like it,” Wallace said. “You look like it hurt.”
Avery bit his lip. The pain was there, he couldn’t deny that, but his prostate was alive too, sending wave after wave of pleasure up Avery’s spine. It was difficult to concentrate enough to say anything at all.
“Yeah. It hurt. But, uh… I like it,” Avery said with grave difficulty. “It feels good too.”
“Why?”
“Uh… Sorry, can you just cornhole me? I can’t really talk right now,” Avery said, his voice clipped and desperate. He breathlessly gasped and flailed at the air in front of his face.
Wallace cackled. “Alright, sorry, man,” he said. “Let’s do this!” He wrapped both of his arms over Avery’s body, holding him tight and close to Wallace’s barrel chest. Then Wallace began to slam his hips up, virtually punching Avery in the ass with his massive cock. Avery let out a yelp that turned into a long, slow moan.
Much to Avery’s surprise, Wallace forced his head to the side. That put Avery’s face atop Wallace’s strapping chest. Wallace bent his head down and kissed Avery right on the lips. His tongue plunged in, and Wallace groaned right into Avery’s mouth. Wallace seemed to have no compunctions about kissing Avery as he slammed him up and down on his cock. He allowed Avery to suck on his upper lip and even lick his face when their fucking became too frenzied to coordinate a kiss. Wallace’s stony face trembled as Avery kissed his cheek and sucked on his grizzled neck.
“Hey! Wallace! You in there!”
“Yeah, Valdemaro! Leave me alone!” Wallace grunted and growled into Avery’s ear.
“Okay. You alright?”
“Yes! Fuck off, Valdemaro!”
There was a long pause. Avery held his breath, barely able to control himself — he wanted to scream and shout the orgasm welling up within him was so tense. But he wasn’t sure how Valdemaro would take it. He bucked his hips back, making Wallace gasp again.
“Are uh… you okay? Uh… other guy? The, uh… white one. You alright?”
Avery heard him and tried to respond, but all that came out was a choked strangle. The door to the sauna opened. Through the steam, Avery saw Valdemaro’s face poke in, but he remained facing away like he couldn’t bear to watch.
“Huh? You ain’t hit him, did you Wallace?” he asked.
“He fine, Valdemaro. Get the fuck out.”
“Yeah. Okay. I am. Okay,” Avery said, the climax boiling so intensely he could barely grunt. He bit his lip and groaned. A wave of bliss flowed through his veins, and Avery’s knees went weak. Wallace supported him in his powerful arms, which were firm with muscle and slick with sweat.
Valdemaro slammed the door shut with an audible sigh. He laughed nervously on the other side of the door, while Wallace kissed Avery some more. He groaned, his tongue lolling over Avery’s face when Wallace become too impassioned to kiss. His balls crawled up in his sac.
“You know you can’t kiss him, right, Wallace? “
“I know, Valdemaro, shut the fuck up! I won’t kiss him! Just go away, Valdemaro!” Wallace bellowed. He pounded on the bench beneath him with one massive fist. Then he kissed Avery again on the lips.
“Okay, sorry. Just… don’t, uh… We’re going to church as soon as we’re done here, Wallace.”
“Fine! Fuck off!” He paused and roared. “I know you still there, Valdemaro, fuck off! I won’t be able to nut wit’ you hecklin’ me from out there.”
“Okay, okay, sorry, I’ll go reserve the punching bag.” He paused. “I’m coming back in five minutes. That’s enough time, plenty enough time to finish up. I’ll dump cold water on you if I have to, Wallace. You need to focus on your training.”
“Valdemaro, if you don’t fuck off right now, I’m going to ram you next. Swear to god, I will shove yo’ mama’s lasagna up yo’ butthole,” Wallace said. “I will take as long as I want to.” Wallace growled into Avery’s ear. “I wouldn’t waste his mama’s lasagna, that shit’s goo-ooood!” He laughed and clapped. “I would take longer than five minutes just to piss him off. If he dump cold water on me, I swear to God I will hold him down so you can ram him. But there ain’t no way I can wait five minutes. You got ass like none other, I swear to God. I will fill you up wit’ my battuh, you gonna be drownin’ in it. You want that? Huh?”
“Yes, please…” Avery moaned. His cock spasmed in his own hand as an orgasm ripped through him. He tightened up and clenched, which was enough to send Wallace over the edge as well.
“Hell yeah, bitch, hell yeah, hell yeah, hell yeah,” Wallace moaned so loud it echoed in the sauna. His muscles all flexed where Avery rested against his back.
Cum sprayed over Avery’s belly at the same time it filled up his ass. Wallace’s hot breath condensed on Avery’s ear, his cum spraying over Avery’s prostate, which accentuated Avery’s own orgasm. Both men roared — Wallace a deep, booming baritone, while Avery lilted out a feminine growl. Waves of pleasure hit Avery hard, and he writhed in Wallace’s powerful arms. Wallace was less expressive, but Avery could feel and hear the burgeoning moan of desire in his chest, which pressed into Avery’s smooth back.
At last Avery was done. A big stinking puddle of cum rested on his thin belly, while Wallace’s meaty body pulsated beneath him. Wad after wad of cum filled Avery up, as though Wallace was piping it in from somewhere.
“Ah, damn, alright, alright, alright,” Wallace said with a chuckle. “You done there. You can get off me.”
Avery haltingly crawled off. Each movement he made sent a wave of both mind-blowing agony and body-melting arousal through his mind. He gasped and struggled to move. He slipped over and over because Wallace’s body was drenched in sweat, and the humid sauna air made everything slick.
Finally Avery crumpled to the ground. He crawled back up onto the bench, where he wrapped his arms over Wallace’s chest. Wallace bristled when he felt Avery’s limp cock press against his thigh, but he didn’t make him stop.
Wallace snorted and sniffled, like he was signaling that he had allowed Avery to cuddle for the maximum amount of time he would accept. He was too polite to tell Avery to let go, but Avery got the message.
Avery grabbed his clothes and hurriedly got dressed. Wallace was much slower. He grabbed his shorts and headed for the door, still naked, his cock not even fully limp yet — it still dripped with his own cum and remnants of Avery’s assjuice.
He opened the door, and there was Valdemaro’s serious-looking gaze.
Then a bucket-load of cold water landed on Wallace’s face, and a few drops hit Avery’s legs — the water was ice-cold. Wallace screamed in shock. Valdemaro said something about God.
Avery slid out of there before a fight developed. It looked like either Valdemaro or Wallace, or both, were about to throw a punch. Avery was done with them both.
But before leaving the gym, he wondered if that Puerto Rican boxer was still around…

Three Generations of Honkies

Avery goes with a friend to an awkward family event, only to find himself enchanted by her father, brother and oldest nephew! They’re a trio of hunky studs who just might let Avery swing on their alpha honky meat… as long as the other two don’t know about it!

Read it now as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Avery lay awoke most of the night. He was dreading tomorrow — it was Thanksgiving, and he planned on spending it with his friend Lenore. That would have been fine on its own. But her family would be there too, and that promised to be awkward. The prospect of meeting who-even-knows how many new people made the whole thing seem like an obligation. It seemed like no big deal when she asked last month if he wanted to come. Her family might be fun, he thought.
And now he had to spend all day with them.
Lenore had not had a relationship with her family until earlier this year, due to an acrimonious divorce that led to her brother siding with her father and Lenore siding with her mother. That was why she had practically begged Avery to come along: Lenore didn’t want to be alone. So he tried not to sulk as he trundled off to her car early in the morning on Thanksgiving. He was sleepy, and he already he was failing to come up with any smalltalk.
He remained quiet the entire way to Citrus Heights, California. Lenore was quiet too, either nervous or just listening to the jazz on the radio. He was half-asleep anyway. By the time they pulled into the parking lot, however, Avery was already starting to brighten up.
Lenore’s mother had passed away a few years ago, and her father, Woody, had reverted to his bachelor ways after his divorce. He was an ex-Army officer with a tattoo of his unit on his belly — a fact that Avery saw when Lenore opened the door and Woody stood there in his boxers, hand at his crotch, scratching his balls. His arms flexed and his pecs rippled as though scratching his nutsack through his raggedy-ass boxer shorts took all of his muscles.
That was how the Thanksgiving began: Lenore screeching, and Woody blearily-eyed glaring at his daughter as his dick flopped out through the fly of his boxers. It was meaty and thick, and it flopped like an uncooked sausage. Woody was a barrel-chested man, his fuzzy fur tinged with gray, his head bald but shaved as well — shaved haphazardly, obviously without the use of a mirror, with slightly longer patches here and there around the sides of his scalp. A mustard stain on his boxers accentuated the bulge of his cock after he casually tucked it away again.
“Dad! Ohmigod, you are humiliating me! Ohmigod! Is this what you do? You hang out in your underpants?! Was Mom the only reason you ever put on pants?”
“Mornin’, sweetcake.”
“Go put some clothes on, Dad!”
He just rolled his eyes and hugged her, much to her chagrin. He shook Avery’s hand. Woody had thick fingers and a muscular grip. He squeezed Avery confidently. He winked too.
Avery blushed, and he looked Woody’s chest up and down. He was furry and broad and strapping, and he smelled a little of sweat, like he had been working out recently, or had simply not showered. Or both. Avery didn’t mind. He appreciated the male aroma.
“Dad, I can tell you cleaned up, but you should have done the baseboards-“
“Sweetcake,” Woody grunted. “It looks fine-“
“I know, but I’ll just get a sponge-“
Again, Woody rolled his eyes. His ass swayed in his boxers as he followed after his daughter, arguing. Avery stayed there at the door to watching his shoulder muscles flex. Again, Avery got the impression he shook his ass for Avery’s benefit. His cheeks were full to bursting out of those paper-thin boxer shorts. The mustard stain looked to have harmed the already cheap fabric, that may be why his cock slipped out.
Where do alphas even find that kind of boxer shorts? So thin you can almost see through them like wet tissue paper. Avery’s dick twitched. He wondered if Lenore had told him she was bringing a friend. He hadn’t seemed surprised to see a stranger.
The rest of the family would be coming soon, and the house was not ready. Avery chuckled under his breath at the sound of Lenore squealing at the realization that her father had still not put on any pants.
“Of course you have to baste it, Dad! Nigella Lawson said it!” She came back into the living room. Avery busied himself by putting the cords, remote controls and DVDs out by the TV all into a stack. That was productive and helpful, he thought; he only wished Lenore had seen him do it. She stormed past with a sponge and an all-purpose cleaner. “Dad! Go put pants on! You have to wear pants to Thanksgiving!”
“You’re as bad as your mother,” he said with a grin. His eyes glanced to Avery, then up the stairs. He scratched his chest casually, but his hand lingered over his nipple, and his pecs bounced.
“Did you need some help picking out an outfit, Mister Myrtle?” Avery asked. He was now certain Woody was hot to trot.
She was awfully insistent I come up here. I bet she knew her dad wanted a piece of male tail on the side. Oh she’s a sly hag… Avery stared daggers at her as he followed Woody up the stairs. He didn’t mind her bringing him as a sort of a toy to keep her father satisfied, but Avery wished she had told him. What if Woody had been fat? That would have been awkward.
“Call me Woody, hoss. Yeah, uh, what color ain’t ya supposed to wear after Labor Day?” Woody asked as they ascended the stairs.
“That’s white, darling,” Avery said. “Nobody wears white to Thanksgiving.” They were up the stairs now. He pulled down Woody’s white boxers to reveal a chunky hairy ass, all muscle and meat and fur. Woody chuckled and stepped out of his boxers without missing a beat. Avery kissed one of his cheeks there in the hall at the top of the stairs. Myrtle fussed over some dumb girlish shit downstairs.
“Damn, boy, did she bring you just to keep me from getting too ornery?”
“A hostess should provide someone to service macho military guys at family gatherings. That’s in Emily Post. Your daughter is a thoughtful girl,” Avery said. “You get jacked off by guys a lot?”
He grunted. “You a take-a-shower-before kinda fruitcake or a take-a-shower-after fruitcake?”
“After.” Avery blushed and laughed. Obviously, he thought, that was a yes: guys who weren’t jacked off by other dudes often would never have known there were those who preferred both showered and unshowered men.
“Gotcha.” He went into the bedroom and flopped onto his bed, which was covered in dirty socks and tee shirts with sweat stains. The bed was unmade, but Avery thought no one actually slept here — Woody probably slept on the couch downstairs most nights. He looked like the drift-off-to-sleep-drunk-on-the-couch kind of divorced man. He flopped his limp dick between his fingers. “Man, in boot camp there was this fellah right off base who’d jack off any soldier who needed it. They just be lining up outside his condo, twirlin’ they dicks in they hands.”
“I bet.”
“But I ain’t mess around with him. The female tail was plentiful back then. It wasn’t till I got assigned to this base in central Alaska, then there wasn’t no females around except this one swishy Indian fella with lips like silk — what are you waiting for?” He snorted and chuckled. “My daughter is gonna come in anytime, demanding I alphabetize my potatoes or something, calling my spice rack racist. So let’s get this done, we might not have much time.” He slapped Avery in the cheek with his dick as Avery leaned over the bed to put it in his mouth. He groaned and scooted closer to the edge.
The doorbell rang. Avery heard more family coming in, and Lenore talking a mile a minute, seemingly apologizing for the state of the house. He slathered Woody’s dick with spit, as it firmed up in his mouth.
“You wanna hit it deep, baby?” Avery asked when it was hard. He rubbed Woody’s cock against his cheeks and chased it with his tongue, teasing Woody by blowing on the wetness on his shaft and making Woody’s whole body shake.
“Ah, man… if a woman asked me that, swear to God, I’d propose to her on the spot,” Woody said with a sigh. He closed his eyes, gripped Avery by the ear and slammed his dick all the way down. “Ah, shit…” Woody moaned.
Normally Avery would try to slow down something like this. Alphas tried to be slow and gentle with women because women demanded it, and men (sometimes) wanted a long-term relationship with them. But that didn’t apply to Avery. So it was up to him to slow his men down or else they’d just dagger his throat like jackrabbits and be done in mere moments.
Today, however, Avery didn’t want to slow down. He sometimes enjoyed letting men really have free reign over his throat, letting them plow into him deeply and letting their balls slap against his chin. He adjusted and loosened his neck to allow every inch of Woody’s cock in there.
“Goddamn, man, hell yeah…” Woody’s throaty voice rang out in Avery’s ear. He held on tight to Avery’s head, but he didn’t sodomize his throat in an aggressive or mean way like some guys. He ground his cock deeply, shaking it, moving his hips and ass in little circles like he needed to make love to every inch of Avery’s spasming throat.
When loud gurgling and sputtering sounds came from Avery’s mouth, Woody warmly shushed him. “Sssssh, it’s okay, boy, I’m cummin’ now, just keep it open for a minute more. You gonna get a good taste in just a sec…” His voice degenerated into a baritone rumble as an orgasm rippled over his hairy chest. He held his breath, keeping Avery’s head impaled on his cock, which spasmed and pulsated in Avery’s neck. Avery’s tongue throbbed against the veiny underside of his dick, where Avery could feel the juices flowing from his balls.
Cum flowed down Avery’s throat. It was creamy and warm and delicious, and he guzzled every drop. He maintained eye contact with Woody the whole time too. Most straight guys closed their eyes when they came in a man’s mouth, so Avery enjoyed Woody’s shocked expression as he orgasmed.
“Shit, boy, goddamn! If I had you back in boot camp, I’d have never bothered hooking up wit’ females,” Woody said with a laugh, shaking his ass beneath Avery’s grasp to make the last few drops of cum slide down Avery’s gullet.
Then, when it was over, Avery sat back and grinned, wiping his face off. Woody’s jaw hung open and he licked his lips. He chuckled, a throaty laugh like a moist mummy, and he wiped his hand through his chest hair. Avery smacked his lips and played with the sensitive, limpening shaft of Woody’s cock.
“Hmmm… Thanks,” Avery said.
“I should be thankin’ you.” He had a low throaty chuckle. “Thank you.” He wiped his dick off with some paper towels. “My son and grandsons are downstairs. And daughter-in-law.” He sighed like he wished his daughter-in-law wasn’t here. “Make sure you don’t let on what we done up here. The younger generations don’t get it.”
Avery mimed zipping his lips shut, then Woody took a quick shower while Avery chose an outfit for him. His cleanest pants were camo, but Avery found a tolerable pair of khakis. They were dirt-colored anyway, so the dirt stains didn’t show. Avery heard the family greeting each other downstairs. A child was in the mix. That was good, he thought, an excellent distraction.
Sure enough, the child — Jason — Woody’s youngest grandson — occupied everyone’s attention. Avery went downstairs met Lenore’s brother Mack, his wife Vanessa and their adult sons Rowan and Shaw, along with, of course, the young one, Mack’s and Vanessa’s five year old Jason. They all watched Jason play with trucks and lose counting games on his mother’s iPad.
Soon, however, conversation became stilted. Everyone watched Jason play like he was a panda at the zoo. Avery tried to make a few jokes, but no one seemed interested in laughing. The dull as drainage Thanksgiving was only ended with a fight breaking out among the brothers.
“You shouldn’t let Jason use the iPad so much,” said Rowan, instantly starting off an argument between him and his brother Shaw. They were both late teens, Rowan just eighteen but Shaw nearly twenty. They both hovered over their nephew, who ignored them, deeply hypnotized by the iPad in his grubby little mitts.
“Just let him play, you loser-“
“It’s bad for him.”
“You’re such a pretentious twat-” Shaw smacked Rowan, who smacked him back.
As Woody came down the stairs in a button-down shirt and dirt-colored khakis, he said, “Hey, you boys knock it off-!”
“Get outta my way!”
“He’s been beggin’ for this for years, I’m gonna kick the moron right out of his brain!”
Avery wanted nothing to do with what was soon to be a fistfight. He did like the men. Woody, his son Mack and Mack’s adult sons Shaw and Rowan. He appreciated the male form, and all four of the Myrtle men had admirable physiques in their own ways. Shaw was handsome and sort of squarish, broad and ox-like, yet clean-cut and dimpled like a new golf ball. Rowan was cute in a skinny basement-dwelling nerd way, not unattractive, as he was a soccer player in good shape, you could just tell he spent most of his non-soccer time playing Minecraft or something dumb like that.
“You piece of shit! Car thief!”
“Oh, now you’re bringing up the Toyota again?! Just get over it, Rowan!”
Shaw was tall and wide-shouldered, with deep dimples and charming green eyes. He was outgoing, with the smarmy charisma of a third-rate politician. After the fight with his brother, he went into the kitchen, where Lenore ignored the fighting and focused on basting the turkey in the oven. When she stood up to explain why her father’s favorite spice blend’s brand and mascot were racist, Shaw belched.
“Oh my god, that was so disgusting, get out of here!” She scowled at her nephew, and he instantly returned to the living room, where Rowan was still fuming about the car Shaw had “stolen”. As Avery settled in with a glass of cider (sadly, it was soft cider), Rowan and Shaw resumed their earlier fight, which was itself a resumption of a previous fight. Little Jason watched and aimlessly banged his trucks together.
“Fight back, pussy!” Shaw and Rowan bumped chests.
“Lay off!” Rowan pushed him to the ground.
“C’mon, fight me! You know you can’t!”
They both wrestled, knocking over the coat-rack by the door and a lamp. Avery backed up out of the way, putting him close to Mack, who picked up Jason and put him on the stairs so he wouldn’t be trampled. Avery felt Mack’s body heat. Mack ignored him, dourly watching his sons fight. He had ceased trying to stop it.
Avery caught Mack’s eye and beckoned as though he needed help with something private. He sort of swept Mack up to nudge him to come along. Mack went with him, and the roar of the battle in the living room went quiet when they went into the garage and shut the door.
“Thanks so for much for your help,” Avery said. He had manipulated Mack with body language and confidence, so Mack realized as he walked into the garage that he didn’t know why he was here.
“What did you need help with?”
“Oh… nothing too difficult,” Avery said. He grinned. “I have a feeling you’d like to get a nut off. Is that right?”
“Shit, hoss, always!” Mack said with a cackle and a whoop.
“So how about I bend over and you plow my ass hard?”
Get off me, Shaw! I’ll kick your ass!
“Oh, damn… Oh…” Mack’s cocky demeanor vanished. He was momentarily nervous. Then he took a deep breath. “Hot damn. Uh, okay…” He paused. “You can’t tell my dad. He’d kick my ass.”
Avery rolled his eyes, but he didn’t say anything.
Mack took a deep breath. “Man… It’s no big deal, just so you know. You’re not my first.” He blushed until his cheeks were the color of cherries. “I, uh… Back in college, my frat had this scavenger hunt thing I had to do, and uh…” He chuckled and blushed. “I was just… It was on my list, and I had to do it, that’s all-“
“You don’t need to explain,” Avery said. He smiled. “Come on, let’s go. If you wanna stick it in me, you gotta stop talking.”
Pulling his own pants down, Mack sat sideways on a riding lawnmower, so he faced Avery. A big dick popped out of his underwear. Avery went for it with his mouth. He planted his lips right on it, and there was a twitch immediately as it flickered into life.
A gasp escaped from Mack’s lips, though he tried to look confident. He was also excessively concerned about noise — his sons still fought in the house, which was much too loud for anyone to hear Mack’s heavy breathing from the garage. But he jumped every time there was a noise, like when Shaw and Rowan knocked stuff over in the living room.
“Hey! That’s enough!” Woody was getting involved now, and Mack pursed his lips shut tightly because the house was suddenly silent. He threw his head back and let out a soundless moan, his open mouth hanging agape, tongue lolling out.
Soon Mack’s dick was hard, and it throbbed as it leaked precum down Avery’s throat. Avery licked the shaft, tracing the trail of the vein that ran up and down the underside of it. Mack let out a long, low-rumbling moan.
“You’re gonna stick it in me too, right?” Avery said because it looked like Mack was planning on cumming like this.
Mack chortled. He removed his baseball cap, ran his fingers through his hair, then put it back. “I dunno, hoss…”
Avery said. “That’s what you agreed to. You wanna back out?”
“No! I just… Just keep your voice down,” Mack said, even though he was the one who was loud.
Avery just kissed Mack on the cocktip, slathering spit on his shaft. “Are you ready ?” Before he gave Mack a chance to answer, Avery got down on his knees and sucked the sweat off Mack’s balls.
Mack gasped and writhed. His muscles all flexed, and he wanted to let out a shout but couldn’t because the family in the living room was being quiet now. They’d hear.
His balls were heavy and full, and Avery loved savoring them. Ballsacs always had such an intense flavor that brought tears to Avery’s eyes as he gurgled and choked on them. That was loud, but only in the immediate vicinity of the lawnmower on which Mack still sat. Mack remained paranoid though, alternating between shushing Avery and loudly gasping nervously.
“I can’t believe this is gonna be my first time putting it up the butt,” Mack said, his voice quavering as Avery pulled off his balls and stroked his dick with one hand. Avery turned around and aimed his ass for Mack’s crotch. Mack sighed. “Girls always say it’s gross. Chicks are all cockteases.”
“Yeah. You should totally stick your dick in dudes instead,” Avery said as he lowered himself onto Mack’s cock.
“You’re not really an unbiased advisor…” Mack said with a chuckle. He leaned way back, like he didn’t want to touch Avery’s body any more than necessary.
That meant it was up to Avery to do most of the actual movement here. He backed his ass up, grimacing at the intense pressure that ate up his focus. He grunted and gritted his teeth. This was especially awkward because Mack just sat there on the lawnmower, watching as Avery struggled to keep his ass in position — he had to kneel over and raise his ass as high as he could make it go.
Avery was just about to tell Mack they needed to try a different position when his ass finally loosened. A loud sigh emanated from deep in Avery’s precum-lubed throat. Mack sighed too, in shock as a surge of pleasure shot up his spine.
“Goddamn, man… Remember my dad can’t find out,” Mack said, his voice wavering like he was on the verge of tears. He whispered even though the TV was on in the living room, drowning out all other potential sounds. There was no way anyone in there could hear unless they stood with their ears literally on the garage door.
Mack’s fingers gingerly gripped Avery’s hips. Mack’s eyes opened wide, and his mouth was agape once more. He couldn’t believe how good this felt. He had hoped it might feel like a woman’s pussy, but he was shocked that it felt so much better. Mack blushed and writhed beneath Avery’s body.
He was so impassioned and aroused that he grabbed Avery’s hips, forgetting that he was trying not to touch Avery any more than absolutely necessary. He held onto Avery’s body and guided him up and down, even as his mind told him not to, that this was too weird.
Mack sighed. If his buddies ever found out about this, he’d never hear the end of it. And if his father found out? As Mack reached a potent orgasm, he was filled with terror that his dad would come in right now and see him — he’d tease Mack about it forever.
But Mack couldn’t help but respond as an incredible orgasm flowed through him. He’d never felt like this. He pounded on his muscular chest and threw his head back with such force that his backwards baseball cap fell off, landing on the lawnmower beneath him.
“Shit, man!” Mack shouted, finally loud enough that people in the living room could have heard it.
Cum flowed into Avery’s ass, great gobs of it that filled him up. Since he was on top, it ran out and down his leg onto the floor of the garage. Avery shot his own wad, but most of it ended up in the body of the lawnmower.
Their orgasm continued for what felt like forever. Mack had never experienced anything like this, but it was old hat for Avery. He let out a long, cringing moan, then leaned back and rubbed his face against Mack’s well-muscled chest.
“Hmmm…” Avery murmured into Mack’s muscular arms, which wrapped around him as both men finished their climaxes and cum seeped out of Avery’s ass onto the floor of the garage and the side of the lawnmower.
They both fell back, limp and exhausted. Avery stretched his weary legs. He didn’t want to leave just yet, but he knew it was only a matter of time before their absences were noted. Avery pulled his pants up and kissed Mack on the neck.
“Thanks,” Mack said. Avery gave him the two hundred dollars he had promised.
“You’re welcome,” Avery said.
Avery went back out to the living room — leaving Mack to breathe heavily and recover in the garage — where he watched little Jason be cute for awhile with the other males. But they were mostly watching a football game, not the kid. Avery quickly lost interest because he hated football. The only part of football he considered exciting was the men — sometimes you could catch a glimpse of their jockstraps. But he wasn’t having much luck with that today, and the menfolk were boring, silently watching the game. The fight between Rowan and Shaw seemed to have ended. They now sat next to each other quietly, meanmugging.
So Avery went into the kitchen to see how Thanksgiving dinner was progressing.
It was, except for the turkey being undercooked and then accidentally dropped on the floor, done.
The women — Lenore and Vanessa, Mack’s wife (and therefore Lenore’s sister-in-law) — had knocked it off the table when a fight began mere seconds before Avery walked in the door. He stood there dumbfounded for a moment, watching the fight and struggling to process what he saw. He’d known Lenore for a long time, and she had never been the type to get into a slapfight.
“Don’t you dare talk about my son!”
“You filthy bitch, you turned my brother into a douche, and you’re trying to raise my nephews to be just as bad!”
“You’re not even a mother, you don’t get to criticize how I raise my son!”
They both tried to hit each other. A loud smacking sound rang out, but Avery couldn’t tell who had made a good hit and who hadn’t. Both women erupted in shouting and insults. Avery was still too shocked to respond right away.
Finally, Avery grabbed Vanessa and pulled her off Lenore just as the kitchen filled with the rest of the menfolk. They were all dumbfounded by the eruption of anger, and even Jason stayed silent and still, hugging his father’s leg.
“You elitist whore!” Lenore screamed. “Just because you’re so vain and self-obsessed as to spend nine hundred dollars on shoes, doesn’t mean I have to!”
“Oh I’m sorry, I don’t steal my shoes from the funerals of obese spinsters,” Vanessa said with a haughty glance at Lenore’s clunky brown shoes.
“You sticky-cunted bitch!”
“I’ll rip your goddamn eyes out!”
Mack stepped forward to intervene. He left his son behind to stand between the two. He put his hands up and said something that Avery couldn’t hear because of the loud shouting of the women.
Avery thought he was being the only responsible one in the room by grabbing little Jason by the hand and taking him out. Woody had the same idea at the same time though, and he scooped Jason up in his arms.
“Grandpa! What are they saying?”
“Nevermind them, they ain’t actin’ like adults,” Woody said. He and Avery went with Jason out to the backyard. Once the door was closed and they couldn’t hear the fight anymore, Avery felt a lot better. He was just about ready for this Thanksgiving to be over.
“No one fights like family,” Avery said, a little awkwardly — he didn’t know what else to say. Jason stood among a bucket of toy cars he had brought to the house. He was outside, and he seemed to realize he was supposed to play with those toys. But he didn’t know how or was too stressed by the fight to do so. Avery cleared his throat as he sat down with Jason and his toys, getting him started. “The turkey is not edible.”
“Yeah… I’ll do something about it.” Woody said. He called in an order for pizza, and then poked his head back inside. “”Hey y’all, hey! Hey! Shut the fuck up for a second! Hey! I ordered a pizza since you dicks have ruined everything. Y’all better pay, and you better give a good tip cuz it’s a holiday.” He slammed the door shut before anyone could respond. He looked at Avery. “It has been a hell of a day.”
“Gotta love your family…” Avery with a wry grin. Now that the fight was over and Avery had played with Jason’s toy cars, Jason had lost his inhibitions — he showed Avery how he was “doing it wrong”, then started playing on his own. Soon the fight faded to a dull roar, and Jason seemed to have forgotten about it.
He thought he was alone, but at some point, Shaw came into the living room.
“Look…” Shaw leaned in and whispered in Avery’s ear. “I need some booty, man… I’ll… give you a reacharound if you let me take you in the garage and plow into you until your asshole falls off.”
Avery sighed and squirmed as Shaw’s hand roamed over his back lightly. Then they both hurried — without walking quickly because people in the house could have been looking — to the garage. Once they got in without being seen, Shaw groaned.
“I knew I ain’t wanna have no Thanksgiving, what a pain! And we won’t even get to eat none of that turkey,” Shaw said as he dropped his pants. He scoffed. “Only pizza place open today is shitty as hell. Vonelli’s, man, fuckin’ awful.” He flopped his limp dick between his legs. “C’mon, hurry up. I’ve been waitin’ for food all day, and I am not missing that pizza.”
It all only took a minute or two for Avery to have his pants around his ankles and for Shaw to jam his still-limp dick into Avery’s ass. He stiffened up, rubbing his cock between his asscheeks. It all happened so quickly that Avery still wasn’t quite ready. His knees remained sore from getting plowed — right here in this garage, on the lawnmower against which Shaw leaned now — earlier, and this was all happening so fast.
“Damn, you’re… in a hurry,” Avery said with a chuckle. Then he bit his lip. Shaw’s cock slammed into him, and he grunted loudly. Avery squirmed and gasped. “Shit!”
“Shush…” Shaw snorted and sighed moistly, the sound resonating in Avery’s ears as he worked himself back on Shaw’s dick. Shaw’s hands roamed over his torso and shoulders, holding Avery in place. He drilled his dick in bit by bit.
“Shit, don’t let my dad or grandpa know about this,” Shaw said. He inhaled deeply of the scent of Avery’s face. “And especially not this.” He gripped Avery’s dick.
Avery was so shocked he couldn’t respond as pangs of pleasure shot through him — he would have never thought someone like Shaw would give him a reacharound. He was pinned between Shaw and the wall, which he clawed at and gasped into.
His hand fumbled with Avery’s cock crudely. It was obvious he had little experience with this. In Shaw’s fraternity, there had been a “rule” that was oft-mentioned: you can cornhole your assigned pledge, but you have to give him a reacharound. Having been on both sides of that equation, Shaw had few inhibitions about it now. Jacking Avery off didn’t even feel any different than jacking himself off, except that he got to plow into Avery’s tight ass at the same time.
An orgasm hit Avery first. He writhed beneath Shaw’s arms and cried out. The most exquisite bliss flowed through his veins as cum flowed into his ass and Shaw sighed into his ear.
“Shit, goddamn,” Shaw said with a sigh. “Thanks, man, I needed that.” The last few drops of cum filled up Avery’s ass.
“Yeah, me too,” Avery said. Shaw kept going, moaning right into Avery’s ear, which he nibbled on too as he gyrated his hips. That turned his cumload into a big frothy mess that dripped down Avery’s legs.
“Hey Grandpa! Pizza’s here! Where’s your wallet?”
“Shaw, c’mon! Pizza!”
“Where’s Avery?”
Shaw moaned, his voice breaking. He swore and slapped Avery’s asscheek as he pulled out. His last few jets of jizz spurted over Avery’s back. “Fuckin’ hell,” he said.
“Shaw!”
“I’m coming!” he shouted, then he laughed. He spoke more quietly. “Or rather… I just came.”
Avery sighed and sat on the cold cement floor of the garage. “You go ahead. I gotta recover. Thanks for lettin’ me come to your house for Thanksgiving,” he said with a bashful smile. He wiped his ass clean with a rag from the garage. “Your family has been gracious hosts.”

The Electrician

Rob has an electrical problem, for which he hires an unexpectedly studly American Indian electrician. A freak accident shakes Rob and ends this little slice of rough trade before it begins… or does it? Lindsey just might be more willing than he let on!

Read it now as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Rob was expecting Lindsey Hornbellow to be a woman. He thought he was being all progressive and shit by calling the lady-electrician — something about Lindsey Hornbellow’s website made that seem like a good idea — Hornbellow Electric Work had good reviews on Yelp but not suspiciously good, and the website said they did work on weekends. Rob was pretty sure he had never seen a female electrician in person, nor in TV or movies, so it felt like a blow for female empowerment to hire Hornbellow Electric.
He had been without electricity for a camping trip for a weekend, and then came home to a house without electricity and a refrigerator full of rotten food. The whole place stank of fish because of the freezer going out — it actually didn’t smell bad until Rob opened up the fridge and freezer doors, and now nothing would make the smell go away.
So he had called Lindsey Hornbellow, expecting some rough-edged blue-collar woman. Rob cleaned his kitchen the best he could despite the smell and got ready to mop the floor before he was interrupted by the service van pulling into his driveway — Rob was staying at a vacation property with no servants, so he had to do all the work himself. Rob went to his window expecting to see the Yelp-recommended female electrician.
But Yelp had not pointed out that Lindsey was a man, and it certainly didn’t inform Rob he was handsome, with the muscles of a Greek god. So Rob’s knees went weak when he saw him climb out of the service van. Rob had been assuming Lindsey was a woman for so long he continued to think this man was some sort of assistant. Even after the handsome man came to the door and Rob saw the name-tag sewn on his jumpsuit, Rob thought that they had switched jumpsuits as a joke.
And then, all at once, while Lindsey examined the fuse-box and the circuit breaker, Rob remembered that Lindsey was a gender-neutral name. He groaned at his mistake but also grinned: If he had known how handsome Lindsey Hornbellow was, he’d have hired him for sure.
“The problem is that you got a bad barnhouse fuse, that’s what you call this right here. These old houses in the woods usually have them.” Lindsey kept going, explaining what he had found, but Rob zoned out. He was entranced by Lindsey’s strong jaw and luxurious black hair, which extended well past his shoulders.
He was Native American, Rob was fairly certain. Lindsey had dusky skin that was immaculately smooth, with deep-set eyes and broad shoulders. He moved with a pantherine grace, and Rob could watch him do work for hours. Lindsey’s jaw was strong and high, totally hairless, as was the part of his chest that Rob could see under the tight tee shirt he wore beneath his jumpsuit.
“Uh-huh.”
“So I’ll have to replace that. The barnhouse fuse’ll be four hundred dollars. The labor to replace it, that’ll be maybe another…” Lindsey paused and took a quick, sneaky look around the house. “Another four hundred, so like eight hundred total-“
“I have homeowner’s insurance,” Rob said. “They’ll cover it.” He grinned. It was obvious Lindsey had looked at Rob’s furnishings and decided to charge him a lot. Rob wasn’t surprised — he was, in fact, very wealthy. But that was why his dad had homeowner’s insurance. When you were rich, every plumber, electrician and handyman upped his rates to compensate. Rob didn’t have the time or wherewithal to negotiate with them, so his dad paid a homeowner’s insurance company to do it instead.
Lindsey furrowed his brow. “Fine. I will call them,” he said. Rob gave him his insurance card, and Lindsey stepped away to make a call. He returned quickly to say that they would call him back with an approval.
Rob cleared his throat. “Maybe we could pass the time somehow,” Rob said with a seductive smile. That bulge in Lindsey’s jumpsuit attracted his eye and made him leer at it. “I was thinking… I could pay you an extra five hundred dollars for something-“
Lindsey’s face was dour, looking down on Rob as though he thought Rob should know how to do this stuff. “Your homeowner’s insurance will probably cover it, you don’t need to pay. They might not pay for the nice replacement barnhouse fuse, so it’ll probably blow out again in a year or so. You could pay the difference. You really get what you pay for, either a really cheap Mexican-made one that’ll last you a year or a nicer one made in Germany that’ll last a lifetime. You won’t need to pay five hundred dollars though, the difference between them is like a hundred bucks-“
“There’s no… American-made option?” Rob asked. He thought his seductive tone should be obvious, but Lindsey just shrugged like he didn’t notice. Rob’s eyes roamed up and down his body, checking out the bulge of his crotch in that electrician’s jumpsuit. He had a nice plump ass too, and his hands were just a bit gnarled and callused, with some scars perhaps from being shocked — Rob loved a nice pair of blue-collar hands, especially in this case because they were a stark contrast to the pristine look of Lindsey’s face and his unblemished skin everywhere other than his hands. Rob batted his eyes at Lindsey. “I was hoping for something American and solid and-“
Lindsey shrugged and went to the fusebox to point it out. “No, there’s no American manufacturer. The people who built this house used the Mexican kind, see? It says ‘Made in Mexico’-“
“No, I was offering you five hundred dollars to do-“
Lindsey pointed into the fusebox, his finger glancingly touching a bit of exposed wire with the end of his fingernail.
An explosion of sparks filled the air. Rob was just inches from Lindsey’s body, smelling the cheap deodorant covering up his masculine scent, and his heart nearly leapt into his throat. For just a moment, he thought Lindsey was so handsome he had exploded.
But it was the fuse-box. Lindsey collapsed to the ground and grunted, while sparks rained upon the carpet of Rob’s basement.
“Oh… Oh shit!” Rob ran to Lindsey, stopping himself at the last second so he didn’t touch him — he wasn’t sure if he was conducting electricity; Rob didn’t want to electrocute himself. Then Rob saw the sparks on the carpet triggering smoldering and flames. This house is about to burn down. “Oh fuck! Oh fuck! Oh… Shit… Fuck! Fire! Fire!” Rob yelled as though there were firemen within earshot. Stop panicking and do something!
This was all happening so fast, he thought, he couldn’t decide what to do. Help Lindsey and risk getting shocked? Put the fire out somehow? How could he put the fire out? Lindsey groaned and moved, so Rob knew he was still alive.
Rob darted into the bathroom, and, unable to find any other container, he grabbed the mop-bucket he had gotten ready with heavy-duty cleaning solvents in order to get that smell out of the kitchen. He wheeled it out into the den. He dumped the water over the floor, and it sizzled, putting out the fire before it got out of control.
Lindsey staggered to his feet. He looked dizzy, and his hair was frizzy, no longer laying perfectly straight behind him. The carpet now stank of mopwater. The water had been clean and soapy, in preparation for mopping upstairs, but the bucket itself stank of stale mopwater. So the entire basement reeked of soil and whatever muck clung to the mop-bucket.
“Oh god…”
“Are you okay?” Rob asked. It occurred to him only now that there was a fire-extinguisher on the patio, right outside, by the barbecue — that would have been quicker than the mop-bucket. He felt like an idiot. He went to all the trouble of buying a fire-extinguisher and then forgot about it when he needed it.
Lindsey nodded. He held up his hand to show that the fingers he had touched the fusebox with were scorched black. His arms and legs jittered. “I think… there is something else wrong besides the barnhouse fuse.” His cell phone chirped and he turned off the ringer. “That was your homeowner’s insurance, but the quote I asked them for no longer applies. I’m going to need to turn the electricity off here at the circuit breaker.”
“Yeah, sure, yeah,” Rob said. “Yeah. Cool.” He was still too exhilarated from the electrocution and near-fire to think about anything else, even Lindsey’s body.
“You were offering to hire me for something else before I touched the fusebox?” Lindsey said. He wrinkled his nose, the mop-bucket smell growing more intense by the moment.
“Yeah, stick me,” Rob said with a sigh. He looked at the carpet. “I’m going to have to get new carpet down here. This is nasty, it smells like a burnt dog-“
“Stick you?”
Rob nodded. “I could shampoo it, but that won’t get the scorch marks out. It was a nasty carpet to begin with.”
“You want to hire me to stick you?”
Rob looked up. He hadn’t meant to be so abrupt about it. He was so focused on what had just happened that it had all slipped out without thinking about it. “Yeah, uh… Sorry, I was… I just wanted to offer you five hundred dollars to cornhole me. Sorry. I usually am, uh… Sorry, I’m unfocused right now.”
Lindsey was silent for a long time. His face was expressionless except for the furrowing of his eyebrows. “You want to… cornhole me?”
“No! No, other way round, I want you to cornhole me.”
“Oh.” Lindsey shook his head. “No way. I…” He sighed. “No.”
“Okay, cool, no problem, no biggie,” Rob said. He was disappointed, but rejection came with the territory. Lindsey didn’t even look like he might haggle, so Rob didn’t offer more money. This day had turned out to be too stressful to worry much about that anyway, and Rob could always go to the biker bar if he got horny. There was always someone there with a slab of meat Rob could swing on.
Lindsey just turned off the electricity for a few hours, and Rob played on his cell phone upstairs since he couldn’t really do much else without power. He had re-stocked the refrigerator and freezer, and now, he thought, it was all going to go bad again.
Around five o’clock, the electricity turned back on, Lindsey came upstairs and said he had fixed it — he hadn’t gotten to the barnhouse fuse, but he had fixed the main circuit breaker, and that meant the house could have working electricity for now. It would probably break within a week again, but by then, he’d have fixed the fuse so the circuit breaker didn’t get overloaded again.
Lindsey left, leaving Rob in the living room to watch his ass shake as he got in his van and drove off. Rob was disappointed, but that near-disaster earlier today had left him so shook up he didn’t think about it too much. Today could have gone much worse than simply not getting laid. Rob even thought about going out to one of his regular haunts — he could go to the biker bar, for example, where there was always some alpha up for a bit of fun.
He just didn’t feel like it though. That was another reason he hadn’t offered Lindsey more money. He had been reminded of his own mortality, and Rob couldn’t stop thinking of what it would be like to die from fire, electrocution or smoke. So he just stayed in for the night.
It was nearly midnight when he heard a knock on the door. Rob saw through the window that it was Lindsey, his tall, stately body tottering on unsteady legs. He was obviously drunk. He looked bleary-eyed and half-asleep.
“Hey, hi, Lindsey, what’s up? Are you okay?”
“I…” Lindsey burped and swayed as though the burp had knocked him off-balance. “I… I wh-whi-lllllll do it.”
“What?”
“I’ll… I’ll lll lll lll ll lll…” He laughed at his own torrent of L-sounds. “Lllllllllllluh…”
“Lindsey, I-?”
“I’ll do it!” He blurted out. “The whole… uh…thing. Doin’ it. That… thing.” He pointed to his own crotch. “That.”
“Yeah, okay, I get it, but uh… you’re very drunk.”
He nodded. Then he launched into a long, incomprehensible drunken monologue. “Thass all I was… wassssh all at the… … sssssshump all ovuh…. … … There I ahhhhm! What issssssh it? I will do… what I, I am in the nnnnnnnnnnight, at that… Where I am.” He belched again and took a deep breath. He scrunched his eyes up. Then he over-enunciated with all the effort he could muster. “I. Am. Drunk. Enoughffffffff. Right. Now. To. Do. It. Diiiiick. Diiiiick.” He laughed at the word. “Diiiiiiiiiick.”
“Uh… no,” Rob said. “You’re way too drunk. You’d probably puke on me.”
“What? You — You — You — You — You offffffffffered, man, you sssshaid it, you-“
“Lindsey, I never said I’d do it any time no matter what. You’re much too drunk. Did you drive here?” He looked at the van, which had been parked slightly off the driveway, one wheel crushing Rob’s begonias. “Damn it, you are way too drunk to drive. You killed my begonias.”
“No I ammm… ammmmm… I am not druuuuunk!” he shouted triumphantly but then tripped over his own foot and leaned against the house for support.
“You’re too drunk to stand, you obviously can’t drive. Or anything else,” Rob said. Then he realized there was little point in trying to be polite and convince him of anything — he was too drunk to think and wouldn’t remember this tomorrow anyway. “Do you want to come in?”
“You willlllll… get me off?”
“No,” Rob said, but he motioned for Lindsey to come in.
Lindsey frowned and arduously stepped up into the house. He grunted and roared in frustration. “You ssssshaid you would!”
“No, I — Nevermind, just go lay down on the couch. I’ll jack you off in a minute,” Rob said. Lindsey flopped onto the couch, sighed, tried to undo his jeans but just fumbled for a few seconds before quitting. He murmured something about Rob taking his pants off, and then he was asleep. He snored loudly.
Rob sighed and took Lindsey’s shoes off, but nothing else — he didn’t want Lindsey to think Rob had touched him during the night. Rob then laid out a glass of water, some aspirin and a bowl to vomit in, before he went to bed by himself.
The house was quiet all night, Lindsey passed out cold and Rob sleeping soundly.
Rob awoke late, to the sound of water running in the kitchen. He crept out to see if Lindsey was alright.
He must have undressed in the night, Rob thought, because he wore nothing but a pair of boxer shorts now. His muscular torso gleamed. He was rinsing out that vomit bowl, and his hair was wet like he had taken a shower. A few drops of moisture remained on his golden-bronze back, which was broad, gleaming, curving as he flexed his shoulders muscles wiping out the bowl. Despite the shower, Rob sniffed out the musk of his manhood, and it made him draw near. He came quietly so he could smell the man’s magnificent physique.
“You should not have let me in,” Lindsey said without turning around.
Rob blushed. Had it been obvious he was looking at Lindsey’s ass from behind?
“I would have been fine sleeping on the ground outside,” Lindsey said.
“Oh, well… Yeah, I guess that’d be fine,” Rob said. He shrugged. “Are you feeling okay?”
Lindsey nodded. “I do not get hungover.”
“Cool, cool,” Rob said with a nervous laugh. “Are you…?”
“Still going to cornhole you for money? Yes,” Lindsey said. He turned around and sighed. He dropped his boxer shorts, revealing a big uncut cock that he thwacked against his palm. “Five hundred dollars.”
Rob nodded and blushed. “Are you still going to fix the fusebox today too?”
“Yes. Hurry up, and I will get to it today,” Lindsey said with a big frown. He crossed his arms over his muscular chest, and Rob sunk to his knees in front of him. Lindsey grabbed a pack of cigarettes off the counter and lit one, pointedly glaring at Rob as though daring him to object. Rob didn’t mind that bad — the house already reeked of rotten food, mopwater and scorched carpet, so he could hardly complain about some cigarette smoke.
Though Lindsey himself smelled clean, his cock was deliciously filthy. It reeked of cigarettes and beer — Rob suspected he had spilled beer on himself last night, or someone else did, and Lindsey’s shower today had been hungover, quick and focused more on his head and hair than on getting his whole body genuinely clean.
It was musty too, and it stayed semi-limp in Rob’s mouth for a couple minutes, presumably because Lindsey had been so drunk last night. He had beer-dick at first. Rob didn’t mind, he deep-throated it and slathered it with spit, making Lindsey’s whole body jerk and tense up. Then he shifted his weight on his feet. His cock finally popped into full erection and throbbed in Rob’s throat.
Lindsey acted as though he wasn’t allowed to touch Rob’s head. His hands flailed and moving around at his side, while he pistoned his hips back and forth. Rob didn’t use his hands either, so he focused entirely on loosening up his throat, so he could swallow every inch of that magnificent cock. That way Lindsey could fuck his dick in and out, treating Rob’s throat as a tight pussy, without any need for hands.
“Ah, yes…” Lindsey closed his eyes. His broad chest muscles rippled, then flexed all at once when Rob reached up to touch them — Lindsey was surprised. The girls he was with rarely did anything like that. This throating, he thought, was much better than he had predicted.
It wasn’t awkward at all, once he got past his initial inhibitions. Pleasure shot up his spine, and he forgot about the lingering pain in his hand from when he had been shocked. He put his arms behind his back, enjoying the challenge of cramming his cock down Rob’s throat completely hands-free.
“Are you ready to cornhole me?” Rob asked when he finally pulled off. He tasted precum on his tongue, salty and sunny, and a little beery too. It was strongly flavored but copious and watered, again presumably because of all the heavy-drinking last night.
“Yes,” Lindsey said. He tried to look nonchalant. He ran his fingers through his long hair, which shimmered — it was cleaner than it had been for awhile because he washed it very well in the shower this morning.
He was glad Rob had refused him last night. Lindsey would have felt like a jerk if he had woken up today having passed out all over Rob’s bed. Plus, last night he would have been sloppy and probably wouldn’t even remember it today.
This felt good enough he didn’t want to forget. His eyes lit up at the sight of Rob’s bare ass. He had psyched himself up last night as he drank by thinking he could get through cornholing a man despite his ass being big and hairy and gross — but that had always been a worst-case scenario. Lindsey had known even before he started drinking that Rob was kind of girlish, almost as hairless as Lindsey, and not at all gross. He had simply prepared himself so much for the worst-case scenario that he had forgotten that was not the scenario he was in.
Rob’s ass was tight, his cheeks plump, pure white and unblemished like porcelain. Lindsey kneaded his flesh with one hand as he rubbed his dick in Rob’s asscrack. He just humped his hole at first, waiting for Rob to buckle and moan with desire.
“Oh god, stick it in me!” Rob panted, his ass tingling and begging. He needed it inside him. He couldn’t think about anything else. He lowered his head, lifted his ass and pushed it right back onto Lindsey’s crotch, with one hand craned behind himself to guide it in.
Lindsey smirked. It felt good to not have to use his hands once again. He could just stand there and wait for his orgasm to come — it barely even counted, he thought, he was just standing here with an erection, and he was only here, he could always claim later, to fix the fusebox.
But as his orgasm approached, Lindsey found he didn’t want to stand there anymore, letting Rob do all the work. He wanted to get this nut off.
He let out a simmering growl, bent his knees a bit and grabbed ahold of Rob’s side roughly. Rob winced and moaned with desire. Lindsey gripped him on both sides and pushed his ass back hard.
“Shit!” Rob cried out as pain and bliss flowed through him in equal measure. His ass rubbed against Lindsey’s crotch, and Lindsey started plowing into him repeatedly, using all his might to get deep in his ass.
Lindsey swayed his hips back and forth. He threw his head back, long wet hair dangling behind him. His chest muscles rippled and the veins in his neck popped against the surface. “Ah, goddamn…”
For a moment, Lindsey thought, it was like Rob disappeared, leaving behind just a tight hole that Lindsey could do with as he pleasure. He could demolish his ass, which was so moist and drippy that it was like sticking his dick in an ocean. Lindsey didn’t even realize he was already cumming — it felt so good he wasn’t aware of his own orgasm until it hit him like a punch to the head.
He howled and slapped Rob’s cheeks, the rippling of his flesh sending Lindsey to new heights of pleasure. He wasn’t even aware of Rob jacking himself off, onto the kitchen floor, at the same time. It was like nothing mattered but the intense pleasure coursing through Lindsey’s veins, little sparks of orgasmic energy flying across his field of vision. He had never experienced anything like it.
“Goddamn,” was all he said as he fell limp, flopping onto the ground on his ass. I wish women let me fuck like that. He snorted and wiped sweat off his forehead. He had just showered, and now, he thought, he felt dirty again.
Rob was sprawled out on the floor. He had rarely been ramrodded so hard. Rob stood on sore legs as the phone on the counter buzzed. He glanced at it and handed it to Lindsey. Lindsey listened to a voice-mail, frowning, still sprawled out on the floor, his chest dappled with sweat.
“Bah,” Lindsey said, “Your homeowner’s insurance won’t cover anything to do with the barnhouse fuse. They want their own electrician to make sure you’ve been maintaining it. Which you haven’t been, so your insurance won’t cover it.”
“What maintenance?” Rob asked. He knew he was annoyed, he felt that annoyance in the back of his mind — what had been the point of buying homeowner’s insurance?!?!?! — but it all seemed distant and unimportant. Rob would just put it on the family credit card. This was technically a family-owned vacation home, even if Rob was the only one who ever used it.
“You’re supposed to flip the circuit breaker on and off once a year. I could tell you never did it. No one ever does. These old houses with-“
“That’s bullshit…” Rob sighed. It was hard to get worked up about stuff when basking in post-orgasmic glow. He shrugged. “Fine. I’ll just pay for it. Will it take you all day?”
Lindsey smirked and nodded. “I might have to come back tomorrow,” he said. “And do even more work for you.”
Rob blushed before agreeing. “Well,” he said with a chuckle. “Go ahead and get started.”

Reacharound From a Drill Sergeant

Avery is a cleaner at a military base, so when he decides to tease a cruel drill sergeant, he is able to take it farther than he ever thought possible! Avery is not as obedient as Sergeant Powers expects his cadets to be, which means Avery just might be in for a reacharound he’ll never forget…

Sir, yes, sir!

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Avery stood in the barrack with a mop in hand. He waited. He thought it would be a long wait, but that didn’t end up being the case.
That was because Drill Sergeant Powers went for a run this morning. He didn’t always run in the mornings because there was a good chance he’d run across some cadets doing something against the rules — sneaking back onto base after an illicit night in town, for example — and then he’d need to punish them. He had a reputation for strictness, so he couldn’t look the other way when he saw cadets sneaking in. But he didn’t want to enforce every rule quite that strictly. He thought it was important to let them get away with certain things. It provided a certain sense of camaraderie among soldiers, and it gave them skills in sneaking, spycraft and teamwork. Plus, ignoring certain lesser offenses gave him the time and the latitude to go after major ones.
So he only went for an early-morning jog when he was pretty sure he wouldn’t run across any cadets breaking the rules. Today, he could easily make that assumption because there were no cadets on the base — they had all left yesterday, to be replaced later today by the first of the new batch.
So as far as Sergeant Powers was concerned, the base was empty. It wasn’t literally empty, of course, there were support staff and other drill sergeants, plus the ever-burgeoning ranks of military administration. But compared to the constant thrum of activity from the young men who filled up the barracks, this was a dead land, like the corpse of a military base, like it was some post-apocalyptic wasteland, Powers thought, and nature was about to start reclaiming this area.
When Sergeant Powers saw a flash of movement in one of the barracks, he barged right in. There shouldn’t be anyone in there, he thought, unless one of the cleaners had come in early today.
“Who’s in there?” His booming voice rang out.
Avery started mopping when he heard Sergeant Powers come into the barrack. Powers was burly and middle-aged and a bit jowly but with a body to die for, great strapping muscles and thick thighs. This morning he wore a tight tee shirt, Army-green, soaked with sweat until it was nearly translucent. Avery could see the hair coating his chest through the shirt.
And oh god those shorts made Avery’s dick hard. They were ridiculous — the kind of short-shorts that the Army made soldiers wear back in the 50s, when that was normal. They would have made Daisy Duke blush. They showed off Sergeant Powers’s thick thighs and tightly accentuated the pouch of his jockstrap stretching the fabric of the shorts, which pulled them low enough that one of the straps was visible running above his plump old-man ass.
“Oh, hi,” Avery said. He smiled bashfully as though this was an accident and he hadn’t meant to see Sergeant Powers like this. Hmmm… he’s got on nasty old shoes… Avery wasn’t a foot-fetishist, but he thought it was cute that Sergeant Powers still wore these ancient, dilapidated sneakers — the young men on base always wore fashionable, ultra-clean sneakers when running. Only old guys would wear old-fashioned short-shorts with beaten-down old shoes.
Of course Sergeant Powers wasn’t old, he was maybe forty-five or so, that was why Avery had been lusting for him for so long. He blushed when he made eye contact with Sergeant Powers, who looked at him suspiciously.
“You’re a cleaner. Why are you here so early?”
“I just… I have a doctor’s appointment later today,” Avery said. “I needed to get my work done early. They said there are no cadets today so it didn’t matter-“
“Yes.” Sergeant Powers barked like he was angry. Then he snorted and wiped his lips with one hand. He interacted almost exclusively with cadets he was allowed to order around, so he sometimes had trouble focusing on a more normal interaction with civilians. “Yes,” he said more softly, though his voice was still a guttural growl that bounced around in Avery’s ears.
“Oh,” Avery said, blushing. “Cool.” He resumed mopping, but he jutted his ass out, aiming it at Sergeant Powers.
Avery didn’t need to be facing him to tell that there was a reaction on Sergeant Powers’s face. His eyes opened wide, and he took a deep breath, nostrils flaring. Avery could feel his eyes aimed at Avery’s plump ass.
Avery mopped, but the mop just shifted around uselessly because he focused more on seducing Sergeant Powers, who now had no reason to be in the barrack but still hadn’t left. His eyes were trained on Avery’s ass.
Then he grunted. “Uh, I… I… What is that?!” he bellowed at no one in particular and picked up a pair of scissors somebody had left behind on a counter. “It’s scissors! It’s… Somebody left these. Nothing sharp in the barracks.”
“Uh-huh. You want me to throw them away for you?” Avery said. He took the scissors, ignoring the growing bulge in Sergeant Powers’s shorts — which were too short and tight to leave anything to the imagination.
Sergeant Powers’s whole body bucked. He closed his eyes and didn’t say anything at first. Then at last he gurgled and said, “No… I… I will keep them.” He put them back down.
“Are you okay?” Avery asked, clucking his tongue. “You look weak. Maybe you’ve been jogging too much, you poor baby.” He patted Sergeant Powers on the sweaty side of his body, and his touch made his whole body ripple, and a little baritone grunt was emitted from his mouth. Avery held his hand up. “Ew, you’re all sweaty!” He smiled at Sergeant Powers. “That’s so gross.”
“Sorry.” Sergeant Powers blushed. He was glad no cadets were around. He had blushed talking to a woman once in front of some cadets, and years later whole new groups of cadets had heard about it and laughed.
“Oh, that’s okay, sweetie, you can make it up to me,” Avery said. “My back itches.” He turned around and rubbed his back and ass against Sergeant Powers’s body, his sweaty flesh rubbing against Avery’s clothed ass and back. Avery felt the hardon in Sergeant Powers’s shorts, and he felt all of his muscles ripple again when his hardon pulsated and a grunt fell out of his mouth.
“Shit… I… Ain’t you s’posed to be mopping?” Sergeant Powers said. Goddamn, that ass just doesn’t quit.
“Hmmm… Yes, I’m supposed to,” Avery said. “But I just can’t seem to focus. I don’t have the discipline.”
“Discipline is my specialty,” Sergeant Powers said. His nostrils flared. “Get back to mopping, cadet!”
Avery saluted — though he faced the wrong way, so he merely saluted the bunk in front of him. “Sir, yes, sir!” He took the mop in hand and started running it over the floor in a little circle. “Sir, like this, sir?” He bent over even farther to keep his ass in front of Sergeant Powers’s crotch.
“No, cadet, you little shitheel maggot! Ain’t ya mama evuh teach you to mop, motherfucker!”
“Sir, no, sir, I’m sorry-“
“Well then I reckon your mama must be the dumbest cunt a donkey ever fucked onstage, ain’t that right? Is your daddy a donkey, son?”
“Sir, yes, sir!” Avery said. He held back a series of snickers, but he soon let up and the snickers turned into full-on guffaws. He stopped when Powers aimed a threatening face at him.
“You laughin’ at me, cadet? Am I a clown for ya? Huh? Do I amuse you?”
“Sir, no, sir-“
“Cuz I said to mop, not laugh. I ain’t seein’ a lotta moppin’ goin’ on!” His deep voice echoed in the empty barrack. Avery took a step away then to keep his teasing going. He mopped seriously for just a moment, then looked over his shoulder at Sergeant Powers’s ruddy face. “Did I say to look at me, cadet?! You don’t decide where to look! Your eyes are owned by Uncle Sam now, and Uncle Sam wants ‘em aimed at that floor! You had better mop until I can eat off that floor!”
“Sir, yes, sir!” Avery said, holding back a giggle. “Sir, when you eat off the floor, are you going to do it like this?” Avery lowered his head until his face was on the floor, but he kept his ass high in the air, shaking it back and forth in front of Sergeant Powers’s body. His dick was blatantly hard now, and it must have slipped out of his jockstrap because it jutted forward in his shorts.
“Cadet! You’re playing games, and if it’s not Tiddlywinks, I am not interested in any games! Do you understand me?”
“Sir, yes, sir!”
“Because I’m not so sure you do! Where are you from, cadet?!”
“Canada. Most recently.”
“Canada?! Canada?! The only thing they got in Canada is boars and whores, and I don’t hear you squealing like a piggie! Not yet anyway.”
“Sir, not yet, sir! I can squeal like a piggie on command! Or any other squeal-type animal! Sir!”
“You look like the kinda man who would ram another man in the ass and not have the common courtesy to give that man a reacharound! Is that the kind of man you are?”
“Sir, no, sir! I love reacharounds, sir-” Avery yelped because he felt one of those big sausage-like fingers on his ass. Powers gripped his cheeks roughly, like a hunk of dough he wanted to rip off. A chamberous growl came out of his chest at the same time. Avery moved to stand up, but Sergeant Powers pushed him back to the mop. Avery had to lean on it for support.
“Let’s see if that’s true! If you’re lying to me, boy, I swear, I will have you guarding Bumfuck, Canada from the walrus-men before you can blink! Do you believe me?!”
“Sir, yes, sir! I’m from Bumfuck, Canada, sir, I know the walrus-men. They want only peace and fresh mackerel-“
“You think this is a joke, cadet?!” His hand rammed underneath Avery’s pants, pulling them down roughly and tearing his underwear in his haste to bare his ass. “I didn’t tell you to stop mopping, did I?”
“Sir, no, sir! Uh… I just didn’t want to be distracted — so I can do the best mopping job possible-“
His callused fingers kneaded Avery’s ass with such force it hurt. One of his fingers extended into Avery’s smooth asscrack. He teased the rim of his hole. “You had better do the best job possible! This Army is not in the business of giving a gun and a uniform to any piece of shit capable of doing a couple push-ups, you little pissant! This Army gives guns and uniforms to men, who can do things right the first time, men who can follow orders, cadet!”
“Sir, yes, sir!”
“So you keep mopping and you don’t stop even for one moment!” Sergeant Powers grinned behind Avery, his heart pounding. He hadn’t expected today to go like this. He hadn’t even been horny until he saw the cleaner — who worked for an outside contracting crew and was obviously a limpwristed sissy ogling cadets every chance he got, Powers had been noticing that for weeks. Then as soon as he saw Avery’s ass and felt it rubbing against his cock, Powers had been overwhelmed by an intense and uncontrollable desire to — as the young cadets said — ‘bust a nut’. That was not a vernacular Sergeant Powers could endorse. Literally, the Army had policies on that sort of thing.
Now he desperately wanted to ram someone who could take every inch of his big dick without complaint, allowing him to plow in with all his might. He loved women, of course, but they never really let him go hard, and sometimes, he didn’t want to be nice.
This was one of those times. “Don’t you turn your head and look at me, you little punk! Your ass belongs to the Army now!”
“Sir, yes, sir!”
His ass was bare, jutting upward. Sergeant Powers couldn’t even see his face now, just that ass, so plump and small yet big enough to have a little padding. He spread the cheeks and stroked his dick with one hand. “Do you feel like begging me to lube your ass up, cadet?!”
“Sir, yes, sir! Please, sir, lube me up! I can’t take it if you don’t use lube!”
“I don’t have any lube, so I’ll have to use spit, cadet! That’s all you’re worthy of anyway, I’d never spend money on lube for your dumb ass anyway!”
“Sir, yes, sir!” Avery cried out. He leaned forward on the mop handle, which he still tried to move around like he was cleaning the floor. But it was hard with Sergeant Powers kneading his ass flesh and spreading his cheeks. The mop itself was slippery, so it didn’t support Avery well, and he had to focus on keeping it upright instead of sliding away. That made it hard to arch his back as Sergeant Powers required.
When Powers got Avery’s ass high enough and his own crotch low enough, he lined his dick up with Avery’s hole. “Soldier, you had best get ready, cuz you is in for it now. You in for a world of trouble. You ready for it.”
“Ye — eeeesssss!” Avery yelped because Powers forced his dick in with one powerful thrust before Avery had even finished agreeing. A burst of pain erupted in Avery’s backside, followed by a surge of blood-curdling pleasure. He grunted and mewled, his body twisting back and forth because both his feet and the mop stayed in the same place.
“Does that hurt, cadet?” Sergeant Powers grunted. He spat noisily in his palm and wiped it on his dick, the tip of which sat in Avery’s tight asshole. His whole body undulated as he tried to ram and ram and ram, forcing his dick in despite Avery’s tight hole. He wanted to break that smoothbody open, and he pressed his hairy chest against Avery’s back. His chest hair was already matted to his skin with the sweat from the morning’s run, so it rubbed moist and coarse and salty all at once over Avery’s shoulders and spine. The sensation and the rank and utter manhood smell made Avery’s cock spasm and spew precum even before anybody had touched it.
Avery bit his lip. “Sir, yes, sir! It hurts bad!”
“No it doesn’t, cadet! Your ass is owned by the Army, right? That means you don’t feel pain without my permission!” He pumped his hips, forcing more and more of his dick in. Avery shuddered and moaned into the mop handle.
“Sir, yes, sir! I’m sorry, sir!”
“This feels as good as lemonade in August, you little punk!”
“Sir, yes, sir-“
“Shut up! You’re from Canada, cadet, you wouldn’t know jack-shit about hot summers!” He held back a chuckle as Avery’s back rippled and more of his dick slipped in that tight hole. Soon his balls swayed and slapped against Avery’s backside. That sent further ripples of bliss up Avery’s spine. Powers grunted. “To you, I expect this feels as good as gravy on ya french fries-“
“Sir, yes, sir!”
“Which I had better never see you do, cadet! If I ever see you put gravy on ya french fries in the mess hall, I swear I’ll stick my foot so far up your ass my toes sing ‘O, Canada’ using your goddamn vocal cords!”
“Sir, yes, sir!” Avery let out a loud moan as a wave of pleasure hit him suddenly. He lifted his head up, and the motion made the mop he was leaning on move — it was still wet and on the slick floor, so it was only a matter of time until it slid across the linoleum.
Avery would have toppled to the ground, but Sergeant Powers grabbed him. He was stretched out though, his entire body rigidly diagonal and taut, and he still felt like he would fall flat on his face and belly at any moment. He was supported entirely in Powers’s brick-muscled arms. His powerful chest pressed against Avery’s back, while cock throbbed in Avery’s ass.
“Ah, shit, son…” Sergeant Powers grunted, unable to bring himself to move now, even though it was difficult to keep Avery upright in this position, because it felt too good. But he didn’t want it to feel too much like he was making love so he moved his hips, grinding his dick and making Avery cry out again in both pleasure and pain. “Did I say to stop moppin’, cadet?!”
“Sir, no, sir!” Avery gritted his teeth and lifted his head arduously, ignoring the waves of pleasure making his back undulate and his mouth gasp for air. His responses now were more breathless and less loud, a fact that made Drill Sergeant Powers cluck his tongue.
“You ain’t usin’ ya big boy voice now, is ya! C’mon, lemme hear you say it!” Sergeant Powers said, watching as Avery’s hands trembled moving the mop handle around. He wasn’t really mopping effectively, but he was moving the mop across the floor. “C’mon, son, soldiers gotta have a voice you can hear!”
“Sir… I… Sir… I’m mopping now! Sir!” Avery gasped and squirmed, holding the mop handle against his body with both hands, so he used his entire lithe frame to move it around, like he was hugging and kissing the mop handle instead of Sergeant Powers.
A jolt of pleasure shot up Sergeant Powers’s spine as well, and he took a deep breath. His thick paws moved down Avery’s smooth body, grimacing a little when he felt his cock — Powers had jacked men off before — that kind of thing was not such a big deal when he was in boot camp, and circlejerks were common — yet he still felt a twinge of disgust at it.
Avery’s dick throbbed, rock-hard, in Sergeant Powers’s hand, the skin of which was rough like leather but slick from sweat and spit, which made it soft and intense and provocative of an intense constellation of sensations. Precum flowed down the shaft of Avery’s manhood, further lubing up Sergeant Powers’s grip. It felt angry, insistent, already humping his hand from the moment he touched it, Avery’s sticky precum lubing the shaft up and turned the coarse friction from his rough calluses to silky moisture that sent him into convulsions of pleasure. Avery had been craving a hand on his cock since this began, but he leaned on the mop with both of his own hands, making it impossible to touch himself.
One of the reasons Sergeant Powers gave handjobs was that it distracted his bottom and made his ass loosen up some. That worked on Avery too, who groaned and moaned as Powers’s cock drilled in and out, his ass now slack enough that Sergeant Powers could ram as hard as he wanted. Still Avery had to keep focus on the mop.
“Aaaah… Cadet, are you enjoying yourself?”
“Sir… Not as much as gravy on my french fries, sir!” Avery said through gritted teeth. He stuck his head in the air and howled, trying to muffle the sound at first, then he remembered the base was almost empty right now, so he could be as loud as he wanted.
Powers chuckled, making his dick pulsate in Avery’s sensitive ass. He could watch the pleasure wash over Avery’s body, making it ripple and stretch. Avery even lifted one of his feet off the ground like a dog until Sergeant Powers barked at him. “Why are you lifting your leg, cadet? Keep both feet on the floor!”
“Sir, yes, sir!” Avery said, gasping. His orgasm finally began, but was still inhibited by the tension of him nearly falling, trying to mop even as he got slammed in the ass and jacked off at the same time. “Sir… I’ve finished… mopping-” A moan escaped from his lips. “I’ve finished mopping this area, sir!”
“Well, then let’s mop over there,” Sergeant Powers said. He smirked as he took a step, forcing Avery to lift a foot again and take a single orgasm-inducing step. The motion sent a wave of blissful agony to wrack his body, and his knees buckled. Again, he almost fell to the floor. If Powers’s handjob wasn’t a little disrhythmic, unpracticed and callused, Avery would have already came all over his hand.
It took what felt like forever to move just a few yards, but then Avery began mopping the back area, near the toilets. His red face was tense, tears of sheer pleasure leaking down his cheeks as Sergeant Powers pounded into his prostate. Each thrust of his hips sent explosions of sensation through Avery’s body.
“Oh, god, shit, goddamn-” Avery’s voice broke, and he panted for air. His hands flailed, the mop toppling noisily to the ground.
Powers stopped ramming with his dick all the way in Avery’s ass, throbbing, feeling so thick inside him that Avery wondered if it was a fist. He lifted his head, leaning back until he felt that sweat-soaked tee shirt from Sergeant Powers’s morning run rubbing against Avery’s smooth back. “Cadet! Did you just address me without saying sir?!”
“Sir, yes, sir…” Avery moaned. For the first time since this had begun, he turned his head and looked at him. They both moved at once — so they both thought the other initiated it — and their kips interlocked. With Avery getting it up behind, his head craned to the side, it was a somewhat awkward kiss, but their tongues managed to collide within Avery’s mouth.
A burst of cum hit Avery’s insides, and he let out another moan, this one a blood-curdling, echoic moan that made the hairs on the back of Sergeant Powers’s head stand up. The sound reminded him that he was definitely with a man — as feminine as Avery was, that was a masculine wail — but it didn’t slow him down any, nor did the feel of sticky hot cum spreading over his fingers.
More juices sprayed out and onto the floor, while Powers filled Avery’s ass with a torrent of his white-hot cum. He held Avery tightly in place, letting his delicate lips lick on Powers’s tongue — not even really kissing anymore, just literally licking on it — as Avery writhed in his arms. Gobs of his cream coated Avery’s insides.
“Cadet-!” Powers tried to shout an order when Avery pulled away, but another wave of pleasure hit him, and his throaty voice broke. At the same moment, Powers shot another long flow of jizz, gallons of it, it felt like but probably wasn’t, Avery could feel the roping jets of jizz spurting into and leaking out of his ass. He exulted in the warmth seeping into his flesh, and he turned his head to the side so he could plunge his tongue back into Powers’s mouth.
The last few drops of Sergeant Powers’s cum drained into him, and still Powers didn’t let him go. Avery was still shooting a few last drops of his own climax onto the floor and the filthy water collected in the mop-bucket. Powers waited until he was done, Avery’s dick dangling limply in his grasp.
Then at last he let go and pulled out at the same time.
Avery would have slid to the ground, but Powers held him up, and then let him down gently on a bunk. Avery curled up, cum dripping out of his ass.
“Cadet! I’ll give you two minutes to rest, and then you had better get up and finish mopping!”
“Sir, yes, sir…” Avery said with a yawn. He stretched his legs. “Are you going to be around?”
Powers frowned. “No. I have things to do… Do you want to clean the showerhouse? You can watch me shower.”
“Yes!” Avery got up and giggled as the motion sent a fresh burst of pleasure from his still-sensitive ass. “I’d appreciate that very much,” he said with a salute. “Sir.”

The Veteran

Avery is hoping to see some admirable male physiques at a notorious campground, so he hangs out cruising the scene. When one alpha male Army vet catches his eye, Avery is off to the races in hopes of landing the outrageous manhood of this military stud.

Can Avery land the man of his dreams?

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Avery leaned back in his camp chair and sipped at his nalgene bottle full of ice-cold water. He had a cooler in the tent. It tasted good. It had taken him hours to get all set up. Putting a tent up seemed to get more arduous every time he did it, he thought, as his joints got older.
Campgrounds always made him feel old these days anyway. It seemed like everyone he saw was younger than him. Public campgrounds like this used to be full of older people. That was what Avery thought about them when he was growing up. It was a place full of old people. Now, he was the old people.
He was in rural Wyoming. He didn’t know any of the people, but he knew that, sooner or later, he’d make a friend. The people in this kind of place were always nice. That was why Avery liked to hang out in campgrounds.
That and the fact that men with excellent physiques were usually there too. Fat and skinny men as well, but not as many. Maybe, Avery thought, the out-of-shape ones were at home eating potato chips and commenting on the internet, leaving the more well-formed men to throng in place like this, the Crambighter Woods campground.
“Anybody wanna drum fo’ us? We need some rhythm, boy howdy!”
“Who got a percussion?”
A band was starting up, an impromptu group around the campfire near Avery’s tent. They had been talking about music and discovered several of them had brought guitars, so they started tuning up.
“I can drum,” Avery said when he casually milled in that direction. He was self-conscious because it seemed a lot of these guys knew each other. But he wanted to fit in, and he was a drummer — he had even been in a band as a teenager.
Someone produced a bongo drum. Avery had never actually used one, but once he got started, he got the hang of it. It wasn’t any different than the drumsticks he was used to.
It was just a jam session — not even any singing. They played popular songs by the Rolling Stones, Beatles, Hank Williams Jr, Dwight Yoakam. Avery just played the rhythm, but he didn’t mind. He liked being part of the group.
There were quite a few women at the Crambighter this weekend. That was a well-known campground with lots of ladies, giving the men plenty of opportunities for sex. That was a big part of why so many men came here. Avery was only interested in the men — women bored him — but he appreciated the women because they attracted the men. A lot of the ladies were’t that ladylike anyway — some were outright prostitutes. That would make it difficult for Avery to find a man willing to swing downlow. The handsomest ones had women hanging off them.
As Avery started banging out a Funkadelic song — a man with a bass had shown up and requested it — he took stock of his options. There was a blond long-haired stud who looked Nordic, but he had a woman with him and Avery gathered from her body language that they were going to go off and fuck soon. There was a scruffy young biker-type (impossible to tell if he was really a biker or not, but his beard and tattoos made him look bikerish, or at least he was attempting to come across that way) who looked promising but had gotten drunk. He would be too drunk by the time Avery managed to get him alone.
All that guy-watch made Avery lose the rhythm for a moment. Luckily no one noticed in the cacophony of guitars. It was hard to stay in sync, because Avery was pretty sure some of the guys were playing “Up for the Downstroke” — technically a Parliament song — instead of “Hit It & Quit It” as they had agreed.
A man caught Avery’s eye, and that made him stop drumming for a moment.
He looked military. He definitely wasn’t, judging from the mustache which was surely not regulation, but he had a crew-cut and he was slightly balding, and he wore a green tee shirt like a soldier over workpants splattered with white paint. He was in his mid-forties, older than most of the men here, and he slightly balding, but his tight tee shirt showed off a potent body. He wore his pants high — very unfashionable — and heavy boots on his broad feet.
Maybe a cop? He looked like maybe a cop. But there were people smoking weed not far away — Avery had smelled it earlier — so he thought a cop, even an off-duty one, would have either intervened or left. Maybe a former cop.
He certainly carried himself like an authority figure, that was for sure. He glowered at the carousing, drunk bikers and rednecks who fell over each other around the campfire. He didn’t say anything. Was he here with someone? Avery didn’t think so.
As Avery banged on his bongo, he saw the man talk to a woman finally. He looked stiff, nervous like a man half his age, and Avery could tell instantly that she was turned off. She was blatantly the fun-loving youngster-type, Avery thought, she was never going to go for a dowdy daddy like him.
But Avery did overhear — in a brief break in the song — that the man’s name was Bernard. That was a great name for a sturdy man, Avery thought, it made him think of big dogs and mountain passes.
“Play ‘Free Bird’!”
“Who wants to blow this joint?”
“Yeah!” A chorus of agreement rang out. It seemed nobody wanted to play “Free Bird”. Avery certainly didn’t. He had his limits.
The band disbanded to go smoke weed. Avery wasn’t interested in that either. He milled about and saw Bernard talk to another woman, this one a bit older, plumper, precisely the type who might like Bernard’s thick body and burly middle-aged look.
But in the hustle of everyone switching places, Avery was jostled about and he lost track of Bernard. He was pretty sure Bernard had gone into a tent with the thick girl.
Oh well… Avery sighed. That little opportunity was busted. He ought to have gone smoking weed with the other guys. Now he both didn’t have Bernard and wasn’t stoned.
He was alone again. Hot chicks had hooked up with handsome guys with nice cars; fat chicks had hooked up with handsome guys without cars; couples had retired to their tents, and the night was drawing to a close.
It was funny how that happened so fast at campground events like this. Once a few charismatic people realized they were tired — or found someone and somewhere to fuck — the remainder were all introverted weirdos like Avery. The party dwindled.
That wasn’t a problem for Avery’s plans. In an hour or two, any man who had failed to land a woman would be ripe for the plucking. Anyone drunk would be passed out cold. Avery could take his pick from the remainder, most of whom would be horny enough and desperate enough to at least let Avery give them a handjob.
But he had to wait a bit for that. He decided to go take a shower. Not only were there probably lots of men there, he just plain needed to bathe.
The showerhouse was near the entrance to the Crambighter Campground. Avery flopped there in his sandals, carrying a towel and his shower gear. He went to the adult men’s side — it was divided into quarters, for adults and juveniles, both male and female (though this weekend was an adults-only event, which was why drinking was allowed).
No one was in there. Avery was disappointed. Maybe he was going to strike out tonight after all. It seemed the women this weekend were determined to use up all the men. The showerhouse was big and empty, cold until he turned the hot water on. At least the lack of people meant there was plenty of hot water.
Avery started showering by himself. It felt lonely in that big cavernous space all alone. He wished someone else would be here, even some old loser.
The door swung open, and Avery held his breath — it took a few moments for whoever it was to come around the corner.
It was him!
It was Bernard. Avery was giddy, and his heart skipped a beat. Bernard hadn’t hooked up with that plump girl after all. Her loss.
He glanced at Avery and nodded a polite hello, then went to the changing area. Bernard had a furrowed brow, and his muscles were tense from the moment he walked in. Was that a bulge in his workpants? Did he have a hardon?
That was when Avery noticed the little cut on his cheek, which was red. He had been slapped.
That explained it! He had hooked up with the heavy girl, but he must have come on too strong or something. She slapped him, and judging from the bruising Avery saw, she either did it a couple times or she really packed a wallop. Either option seemed possible.
Bernard hesitated. He eyed the slim white man — Avery — with a dim eye. He rather wished he was showering alone, as then he could jack himself off. He needed that. That plump woman had blueballed him. When he dropped his pants — standing behind the barrier that protected the changing area from the showers — he saw that his dick was still hard.
Instead he just stood there and sighed. When he realized that made him seem weirder than having a hardon would be, he just shrugged and went into the showering area. Avery stared at his erect cock when it became visible.
“Don’t make fun, man,” Bernard said, his voice a low throaty growl, like he didn’t speak often and his vocal cords were unpracticed. He looked at his massive dick, still mostly hard and throbbing, begging for action. “I got hard earlier and couldn’t get it down, I was wit’ this female, man, and she slapped the shit outta me. Got me all worked up and then ain’t wanna put out.”
“Oh yeah? That sucks…” Avery clucked his tongue. “You poor baby.”
Bernard nodded and stepped under the showerhead furthest from Avery. “Wish I was drunk,” Bernard said. The water sprayed over his broad chest. His body hair was already matted to his skin with sweat — he was palpably hot, Avery could feel his body heat when he walked by, his plump but chunky thick-body ass jiggling as he did. Avery saw that erect cock and had to stop himself from drooling.
Avery’s mind raced as he considered what it might take to land a taste of Bernard’s excellent meat.
“Man, she invited me into her tent, ‘nd shit, man, swear to god, she was beggin’ for it. Then all of a sudden she say she only doin’ handstuff.” He threw his hands in the air — revealing big bushy armpits — and scowled. “What the fuck? Is we in middle school again? She was like nearly thirty…” He rolled his eyes. “Doin’ handstuff…”
Avery chuckled. “Yeah… girls can be teases.”
“Yeah.” Bernard grunted. “I can do handstuff mah own goddamn self!” He poured shampoo into his hand and washed his scalp — his hair was so short Avery didn’t see the point, but he didn’t say that out loud. Maybe it was dandruff shampoo.
“You still have a hardon.”
As he rinsed the shampoo off his scalp, Bernard opened his eyes and glowered darkly at Avery. Obviously Avery wasn’t supposed to mention it after Bernard already apologized for it. Avery smiled at him, and he turned his hips so Bernard could see his pale, smooth ass.
Bernard groaned.
Avery saw the thoughts flicker over Bernard’s face. Avery didn’t make any offer yet, wanting to give Bernard a chance to ruminate on his options. Avery continued washing his body with a washcloth, making sure his smoothness and petite frame were visible in the dim light of the showerhouse. He turned around to dance his ass towards Bernard.
Bernard narrowed his eyes to slits at the sight of Avery’s plump bubble-butt. Avery was slim, but his ass was thick, plump, smooth. It looked tight too. Bernard could just plow into that. It would feel so good, he thought.
But he wasn’t going to do that.
He had done it, once, back in boot camp. He and a buddy had had leave together, and when Bernard was unable to find a prostitute — this was back in the 1970s in a remote part of Alaska — he had traded mouth with his buddy. They just jacked each other off first, but when that proved difficult to cum to, they had sixty-nined. Later, Bernard woke up to find himself grinding his cock into his buddy’s asshole and giving a reacharound as he did it.
That had been one crazy weekend that he had blocked out of his mind. Bernard didn’t think about that, and when he did think about it, he tried to convince himself it hadn’t happened.
But his cock, he soon realized, had gotten harder since he walked in here. It wasn’t going to go down. It throbbed and pulsated like it had a mind of its own, a mind that was demanding a warm, tight place to ram itself into. The more he looked at Avery’s taut ass and his creamy smooth skin like a woman’s, the more Bernard wanted him.
He has such soft lips too, Bernard though, be he could do amazing things with those lips.
“So do you have a wife?” Avery asked. He already guessed the answer, but he wanted to keep Bernard thinking about women and sex.
“No.” Bernard grunted. His mind raced too fast to think of anything to say except touch my dick, which he couldn’t bring himself to say no matter how much he wanted it to happen.
“Are you okay? You looked upset,” Avery said. “Or maybe it’s just that hardon that won’t go away. You want me to help?”
“Uh…” Bernard closed his eyes. He spread his legs and put his hands behind his back as though he was at parade rest. He jutted his hips forward enough to make his foot-long dick stick out, making it look even bigger. His chest muscles rippled.
That was a pretty clear signal, Avery thought. He came closer.
Bernard looked so handsome, like an AWOL soldier about to be scolded by his commanding officer. He winced even before Avery got on his knees in front of him. Avery waited a good long time to give him a chance to change his mind — he knew Bernard was ready when he peeked his eyes open to see why Avery hadn’t started yet.
Avery plunged deep on his dick then, all in one smooth motion, slamming his head all the way down. He wanted to interrupt that parade-rest position, but Bernard forced himself to stay put. He swayed back and forth but didn’t move his feet or his hands. His chest muscles all flexed like it took all of his effort to avoid moving his hands — he no doubt wanted to hold Avery’s head and ram his throat — alphas always wanted that — but thought that would feel too weird.
It was cute to watch. Bernard furiously squeezed his eyes shut and refused to move either his feet or his arms. He was so focused on keeping his limbs still that he made lots of horse-like snorting and whinnying sounds as his hips tossed his upper body around like a bobblehead.
His dick tasted like the paint-stained workpants he had been wearing. That was because he had gotten hard wearing them, Avery thought — he’d long noticed that men who concealed hardons in their pants ended up smelling like their pants when they finally got their dick out, like the scent of his fabric had seeped into his dickshaft. He must have been horny enough with that woman to leak some precum from his dick, because Avery could taste the salt of recently dried funk on his shaft as well. Avery’s tongue slathered spit up and down, gathering up all that stale flavor and the desperate sexual frustration in Bernard’s manhood.
“Ah, goddamn, man… Shit, I needed that…” Bernard’s tension slowly melted away. His muscles gradually relaxed. He remained at parade-rest, hands firmly locked on his own wrists behind his ass. His whole body tensed and flexed and buckled, as he let out petite groans and grunts.
“Can I slurp on your balls, sir?” Avery asked, letting his voice gurgle moistly with the salty precum that coated his lips.
“Hmmm… Oh god, yeah… lick my balls, man, c’mon…” Bernard’s deep voice echoed. “I love that…” He was one of those people who didn’t really have the ability to whisper, Avery thought. He was so big that he had a deep, rumbling voice, which melded in with the hum of the fluorescent lights and the excited shouts outside by the campfire, so his voice wasn’t very disruptive even if it was quiet. It sort of melded in with the atmosphere of the campground.
Avery produced copious spit that flowed down Bernard’s shaft all the way to his heavy balls, which Avery slurped and licked loudly, his tongue working all over the hairy sac. He made his own saliva drip into puddles on the linoleum floor before running to the drain. Two showers still sprayed warm water, but Bernard had backed up to the wall, so he was out of the spray of both showers.
“Hmmm, ah yeah, man… it’s been a long time since, uh… someone licked my balls,” Bernard said. He very nearly said ‘a dude’ but stopped himself because he wasn’t ready to admit he’d messed with a man back in boot camp. But it was true, no girl had ever licked his balls for more than a few seconds because they were too big, too heavy, too low-hanging, and too hairy.
They were just plain too much.
Those traits were exactly why Avery loved them. Women don’t know how to value a hairy, sweaty ballsac. He slurped down every drop of shower-water that still clung to Bernard’s sac, and he slipped his head between those powerful legs too.
Soon, Avery was on the other side, kissing each of his work-weary asscheeks below which his hands had a death-grip on each other. “You ready to ram me?” Avery asked, as he licked the mighty meat of Bernard’s ass.
“Hell yeah…” Bernard murmured.
Avery slid back in front of Bernard on the smooth linoleum floor, arranging himself on all fours, with his ass high in the air. Bernard’s eyes opened wide.
There’s that ass again. It’s so tight. Tell him no. Tell him you only want to do mouth-stuff.
But his asshole beckoned, and Bernard didn’t want to back out. It was so warm and smooth, better than that girl’s chunky ass would have been, Bernard thought but would never say out loud. He blushed as though someone might have heard his thought. He was already kneeling behind Avery before he even decided to do it.
It was like his body was on autopilot. Even with his buddy in boot camp, Bernard had never done it like this. That had been fumbling in the dark, not an actual hardcore cock-in-ass ramrodding, like they were prisoners on lockdown.
“Aaaah…” He finally used his hands on Avery’s body. He gripped each of this thick bubble-butt cheeks and held on tight as he plowed in. Avery’s hole was tight and resisted at first, but with just a little push, Bernard’s cock sank in deeply.
“Shit!” Avery yelped. Bernard had a big dick, and there was a potent pinching pressure in Avery’s backside. Avery lifted one foot off the ground and howled.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, go on, keep going,” Avery said breathlessly as more and more of Bernard’s mature meat slid into him, ignoring his body’s instinctual resistance. Avery moaned, as his prostate came alive and sent waves of sensation through his body. He heard activity outside the showerhouse — he suspected some men had heard what was going on in here and left so they wouldn’t walk in on it. That made Avery laugh to himself even as he grunted in pain.
With a final potent push, Bernard’s entire cock was inside him. Avery cried out for more, as Bernard began pumping his hips back and forth. Bernard was shocked — few girls could take his dick in its entirety, especially without a lot of lube and extra time to adjust. Avery had simply taken it with a minimum of whimpering, and now he moaned with pleasure that grew with every thrust of Bernard’s cock in and out of him.
“Damn, ah, shit!” Avery cried out again. His hands tightened into claws that dug at the linoleum floor of the showerhouse. He had scooted forward enough that his face was in the warm shower-water, while Bernard stayed mostly dry.
Bernard couldn’t ever fuck a woman like this, she would say he was doing it too hard, too rough, not romantic enough. It was nice to be able to just plow without worrying about that. He gripped Avery’s asscheeks and held on tight, using all of his weight and his strength to ram his meat in and out. He was so aroused he even found his hands roaming around to Avery’s cock.
He had given a reacharound back in boot camp, and he did it again out of instinct or habit, or maybe just plain repressed desire. He didn’t realize he had done it until his hands gripped Avery’s thick shaft and felt it pulsating beneath his grasp. Cum flowed over his fingers, as his grasp instantly sent Avery over the edge to his climax. It was hot and sticky, and it made Bernard focus his entire attention on that.
He was jacking a stranger off in the shower. He couldn’t believe it, but it didn’t slow him down any. He reached his own orgasm moments later, amid the frenzied moans arising from Avery’s throat. Jizz spurted out of both men, Avery’s puddling up near the drain it then flowed into while Bernard filled Avery’s ass with his creamy seed.
“Ah, shit, yeah, take it!”
Creamy cum sprayed deep into Avery’s ass. Avery had been just as surprised as Bernard about the sudden reacharound, but he certainly wasn’t about to complain. He just used both hands to support himself as he rammed his ass back and forth on Bernard’s studly cock.
More and more juices filled Avery up, turning into a frothy mess that dripped onto the floor of the showerhouse. The smell of funk was intense and potent, and it didn’t wash away even with the pair of showers still on.
Finally he was done. Bernard leaned back until his cock plopped out. Both men felt a surge of relief and an intense twinge of pleasure that dwindled slowly.
He sighed grandly. “Shit, man… I don’t even miss that girl.”
“Wanna sleep in my tent?” Avery asked, breathless and sweaty. He needed to take a whole nother shower, he thought with a laugh.
Bernard blushed and bit his lip. “I mean… I dunno…”
“How about this? It’s the red tent at the corner there by the campfire ring. You know where I mean…? The big one? You can just come in, so no one will know I’m already in there when you come in. You can just slide right in,” Avery said. “I’ll wake up if I’m already asleep.”
“Okay…” Bernard gulped.
“Don’t worry, it’ll be a ton of fun,” Avery said. He displayed his ass as Bernard backed out towards the changing area again. Avery stuck a finger in, brought some cum out and smeared it over his asscheek. “I’ll just get ready.”
Bernard grabbed his clothes and ran out. He didn’t even bother to get dressed first. His cock flopped between his legs as he tumbled out into the darkness. Luckily, nobody noticed.
Was he really going to sleep with that man tonight? He told himself no, but he had a feeling the answer was yes.
If I can’t find a woman, I’ll go back to him. But I’ll really try. For real. I won’t just wait a few minutes and then go there. Sir, no, sir.

The Hustler

Rob stumbles across an alpha male biker in need of cash, a place to stay and a chance to get a nut off, which are all problems Rob is eager to help solve. That means Rob is in for a night of raunchy action, dominance and a mind-blowing orgasm.

Can Rob handle the firm hand of his new friend?

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Or read the whole thing here!

Rob sat in his coffeeshop, looking at the novel he had just finished writing. He had finished it too recently to edit it now. It was tough to edit something right after you wrote it. But his deadline was tomorrow, so Rob was trying to gin up the energy to do it anyway.
He didn’t really have to meet the deadline. Most freelance writers were so flaky, he was seen as “on-time and ultra-efficient” if he was less than a week late. That would give Rob a few days to decompress, then look over the novel with a fresh pair of eyes.
He just didn’t want to have this Mafia romance hanging over his head any longer.
He idly googled the Mafia. There needed to be some fact specific to the Mafia that worked into the plot. Right now, it was just a story with criminals in it — that they were Mafia was mentioned in the prose, but not demonstrated through an action. They were just generic criminals so far. Rob needed to add a tidbit that directly related to some Mafia word like omertà or consigliere. But not as hokey or well-known as those, it needed to be something else.
A goombah was a man’s mistress. That could be something, Rob thought, but women might find it offensive, even if it was only a villainous kidnapper’s woman.
He kept scrolling through lists of Mafia slang. Most of them had the same twenty or so words.
Who’s that? Someone caught Rob’s gaze.
There was a man outside, hanging out near the motorcycle shop on the street. He caught Rob’s eye. He looked vaguely bikerish, but Rob didn’t get the impression he had any intention of going into the motorcycle shop next-door. He just milled about near the practice-lot for new motorcyclists and smoked a cigarette.
The man was medium-height but well-muscled, his broad shoulders showed off by a sleeveless shirt. He had a scruffy mustache and a scruffier beard, and dark eyes, with long black hair that was tangled and greasy.
He threw his cigarette on the ground. Then he curled his lip at a young black man walking by. They both nodded at each other as though they knew each other — there was hostility though, like they had fought once. When the black guy went past, the biker licked his teeth and watched him go. He exhaled a long plume of smoke.
As soon as he snubbed out his cigarette, the white man with the black hair lit another one. Was he waiting for someone? Rob sensed an opportunity for rough trade.
He paid for his coffee and put his laptop away before heading out to his car. He knew from personal experience that the best way to get a hustler off the street was with a car. That would signal that Rob had some money, and it would get the hustler somewhere more private.
He pulled to a stop in front of the bike shop. “Hey, man, what’s up?”
The hustler scowled and looked in the passenger side window. Cars streamed past Rob on the street. “What?” he barked into the window.
“Hey, how you doin’? You know cars? I could use someone who knows cars. My car’s making this noise, it’s sort of a thwump-thwump-“
“You lookin’ for a mechanic?”
“Bah, you know, they’re all crooks. They’ll cheat me, I know it. They always do. I usually just look around for someone who might know what they’re talking about. You’re into motorcycles, right? You must know about cars.” Rob gestured towards the motorcycle shop.
“You payin’?”
“Yeah. Of course. I’ll treat you right, I swear.”
The hustler shrugged and nodded. He got in the passenger seat. “Yeah. I know cars. I mean, sort of.”
“Cool, sweet.” Rob cleared his throat. “I’m Rob.”
“Glasser.”
“Cool, Glasser, sweet,” Rob said. “So-“
“What sound is ya car makin’? I don’t hear nothin’.”
“Oh, not this car,” Rob said. “It’s my other car, back at my place. I’ll take you there. Where do you live, Glasser?”
He shrugged. “Around.” He let out a shiver. Now that he was out of the cold air and the light drizzle, he found it more difficult to keep himself from shivering.
“You got a girlfriend?”
Glasser scoffed like that was absurd. “I got females I mess wit’.”
“Uh-huh. Sweet. Cool.” Rob smiled at him as he got on the highway. “So, uh… you horny?”
“Always.” Glasser crossed his arms over his chest and looked out the window. That position accentuated his pecs, which pressed against his too small tee shirt. His biceps gleamed with either sweat or rain or both.
“You wanna… y’know… do somethin’ ‘bout that?” Rob asked. Glasser ignored him, just staring out the window. Rob gingerly touched Glasser’s left bicep. Glasser still ignored him. Rob squeezed his arm and caressed it, his fingers slipping under Glasser’s sleeveless shirt to his shoulder. That made Glasser’s muscles all twitch at once. With one hand still on the steering wheel, Rob massaged Glasser’s back with his other hand. “Can you take your dick out?”
Glasser sighed like that was a huge imposition. His mustache quivered. He unzipped his dirty camo pants and took his dick out — again, he looked back out the window, avoiding Rob’s gaze. He had a hefty dick, plenty thick and tanned a dark brown, just a shade darker than his skin.
He just took it out and let it flop against the fabric of his rain-soaked pants. He didn’t play with it or anything. It just lay there like an abandoned sausage.
“You have a nice cock. I really do have a car at home that makes a thwump-thwump sound. I think something’s loose in the undercarriage,” he said. “I’ll give you fifty bucks if you can fix it tonight.”
After a long, pregnant pause, Glasser said, “I might need tools.” His dickfat jiggled when he spoke. He exhaled another plume from that ever-present cigarette.
“I’ve got some tools. If there’s something you can’t do tonight, then we’ll work something else out,” Rob said. He grabbed Glasser’s limp cock with one hand. He didn’t sroke it, he just held on like a handle, gauging Glasser’s reaction. Rob faced the road, so he couldn’t see his face, but he sensed only a blankness from him.
He crossed his arms over his chest, staring out the window intently like he might see something interesting if he looked hard enough. It was dark out though. There was nothing to see but the streetlights and the other cars whizzing by on the highway. His dick throbbed and jostled in Rob’s grip.
“Okay, cool, thanks,” Rob said. He gave Glasser’s cock a squeeze and a stroke, and still Glasser ignored it.
Glasser ignored Rob’s finger as it moved in a little circle over the spot on the underside of his cock, right where the glans met the shaft. His dick was heavy and thick. Rob stroked it with just one finger at first. He rubbed that finger from tip to root and back, while Glasser sighed.
At last, Glasser looked away from the window and watched Rob stroke his dick. He didn’t say anything.
“You let guys jack you off a lot?”
“No.”
” I’ll pay you. Hundred bucks, if you let me swallow your cum. Plus fifty to fix my car,” Rob said. “You need a place to stay?”
Glasser didn’t answer, but he grunted in a way that made the answer clear — yes. He watched his cockshaft as it flopped limply in Rob’s hand. Rob stroked slowly. He made no effort to get it hard, he was just playing with it the best he could while still driving the car with the other hand.
“You want a drink?”
Glasser glowered for a moment, then said, “Can’t. Gots a parole officer who gonna test my piss tomorrow.”
“Oh, that sucks,” Rob said. He kept stroking. Glasser’s limp dick was hot and moist with sweat. Rob was pretty sure he was trying hard not to get an erection yet. Was that to hold out for more money? Just plain anxiety? Did he drink enough he actually had trouble getting an erection? Or did he just want to prove he couldn’t get hard for a man too easily?
Pulling off the highway, Rob slowed down the car but sped up his stroking. He squeezed a bit too. That made Glasser grunt.
His cock pulsated and twitched. It began to firm up in Rob’s mind. Glasser returned to looking intently out the window. At least now there were things out there — a gas station, a dog running along the side of the road, a woman parking.
“I wanna swallow your cum.”
Glasser chuckled throatily — it was a dim, minimal chuckle, but still, it was the strongest emotion he had shown yet. “That’s nasty.” He paused. “Don’t show me ya mouth. Some perverts do that, they jerk a man off and swallow and then open up so I can see — that’s fuckin’ disgusting. Don’t do — I mean, I ain’t sayin’ I let fellers jerk me off. I don’t do that, no sir, not on the regular. I just…”
“You don’t have to explain yourself.”
“I used to, alright? When I was doin’ drugs, I mean, I used to let all kinda boys handle my meat,” Glasser said. “That’s all. I ain’t doin’ it no more.” He sniffled. “After tonight.”
“Okay. Cool. I get to be your last, huh?” Rob said with a laugh. He pulled into his driveway and put the car in park in front of his garage. Then he lowered his head to Glasser’s crotch and deep-throated him to the root, all in one smooth motion.
“Shit…” Glasser said. His eyes opened wide — not that Rob could see it — and he had to hold back a gasp. He didn’t know it would feel this good right away. He sucked in on his cigarette then coughed, which rammed his cock deep into Rob’s throat.
Rob grinned as he choked. Even though he couldn’t see Glasser’s face, he knew what was happening. Glasser was shocked at how good this felt but he was trying to hide it. He could sense it in Glasser’s feet curling and lifting off the car floor, in the tensing of his thigh muscles and the sudden explosive erection — his dick got noticeably more erect just in the moments it took Rob to go from playing with it to swallowing the whole foot-long shaft.
Betcha no women swallow him that deep, Rob thought… He would have said it out loud if his mouth weren’t full.
Glasser growled, a low rumbling sound that bounced out of his mouth through his gritted teeth. He lifted his ass off the seat and grabbed Rob’s head with both hands.
“Take it, man, swallow it, swallow that shit, sissy, c’mon…” Glasser said. His swarthy face turned reddish. He grunted loudly, like an angry hog, and he gripped Rob’s scalp tightly. “Don’t stop, man, I’m gonna nut.”
Rob wasn’t expecting him to cum so quickly, especially since it had taken Glasser awhile to get hard. But Rob didn’t mind — he thought he could get another load out of Glasser tonight. Hot streams of jizz poured down Rob’s throat, and he choked loudly even as he managed to get every drop down his gullet.
His lungs cried out for oxygen, but Rob managed to avoid spitting out the cum that flowed deep into his throat. Glasser held him tightly, all the way down on that massive dick, which tasted of rain and dirty clothes. His cum, on the other hand, was bright and warm and sunny, creamy like… well, cream, and salty in a good way. Rob savored the taste as it pumped down his gullet.
“You’s makin’ a sloppy mess, sissy,” Glasser said, heaving for air as he orgasmed in Rob’s mouth. He frowned, gripping Rob’s hair even more tightly. He bucked his hips, forcing his dick all the way in once more for the last few wads of cum. It coated Rob’s throat and sat hotly in his belly. “Goddamn…”
When he could resist no longer, Rob sputtered, unable to avoid making a big mess of cum that spewed out and soaked into Glasser’s pubic hair. It coated the surface of his jeans too. Even when he thought ht was done spitting up, Rob moved his head just an inch, which triggered both another explosion of pleasure in Glasser and a gag that roiled Rob’s body. Rob retched up a mouthload, while Glasser let out an involuntary moan that turned into a stonefacing grunt. He kept Rob’s dick in place, forcing him to choke up again and against, the sensation massaging Glasser’s sensitive shaft.
At last, Rob pulled off completely, forcing his head away from Glasser’s cock cuz Glasser held on tight like he was never gonna let him take a breath. Rob grabbed a coarse lungful of air, while Glasser sighed. Then Rob moved to kiss him on the lips, an instinctual move he didn’t think Glasser would accept. Glasser gently pushed and then rudely slapped his cum-dripping face.
“Don’chu dare kiss me.” He coughed, making his dickfat jiggle once more as it rapidly limpened up. “You nothin’ special, pansy.” Glasser wasn’t about to admit that that was an especially good dome — he would never admit that because it sounded too queer to say out loud. But it was obvious from his breathless reaction and the way his whole body went limp at once as he let go of Rob’s head. Rob at last pulled off and took a big, deep breath, which made a hoarse sound that filled the tiny cabin of the car.
“Hmmm… Damn, you… got dick… for days,” Rob said. He gave Glasser’s cock another stroke, which made Glasser gasp and his whole body squirm.
Glasser smacked Rob — not as hard as he could but hard enough to hurt. Glasser hadn’t wanted to squirm like that, it made him feel weak. “I ain’t say you could swallow it.”
“Oh, sorry, okay,” Rob said. He wiped his face off. “You wanna come in-?”
“Pay me, bitch.”
“Oh, yeah, sure.” Rob pulled out the hundred dollars he had promised and handed it over. He pointed to the garage. “Did you want to work on the car tonight? You could sleep tonight instead and do it tomorrow-“
“You got electricity in ya garage?”
“Yeah.”
“Then I’ll work tonight.” Glasser got out of the car — only then putting his dick away and realizing how much cum had gotten on his pants. He went out to stand in the rain to “wash” the stain off some. “Just go to bed, sissy. I’ll sleep on the couch tonight and finish the car tomorrow.”
“Oh. I…” Rob wanted to ask if Glasser was going to ram him in the ass. He had hoped to do more than just play with his dick for about three minutes. But he sensed that the more he pushed right now, the less cooperative Glasser would be. “Okay.”
Rob went inside. He first made himself some food — just pasta with a bunch of leftovers mixed in, but he made sure to pan-fry some onions and garlic in butter — no one, he thought, could resist that smell. He knew it was smellable out in the garage too.
But Glasser still didn’t come in. When Rob went out there to check on him, he was pretty sure Glasser hadn’t been doing any work until Rob came to the garage door. Then he slid under the car and pretended to be doing something.
It soon became obvious that the car was fixed. Glasser wasn’t going to come in the house until Rob was in bed. Rob just shrugged — a lot of men will do what they have to for money, but not sleep with men, or kiss them, or even hug them in some cases. Obviously Glasser was one of those kind of guys.
Rob put a pillow and blanket out by the couch, plus a bowl of food in the kitchen. He thought he’d get Glasser later tonight or very early tomorrow morning — he’d be horny again then, and he’d probably want money to go out drinking after meeting with his parole officer.
Then Rob turned out the lights and went to bed. Sure enough, he heard Glasser come in about twenty minutes later. Rob didn’t go out. If Glasser was homeless — which now seemed like a real possibility — he probably wanted a chance to be in a home, by himself, to relax. He heard Glasser turn the TV on — that took some fumbling with the remote, but Rob didn’t go out there to help. He let Glasser figure it out on his own.
Rob was just about asleep when the door to his bedroom opened up. His ears twitched. Glasser’s baritone burp filled the air (it smelled like the leftover pasta Rob had left out for him).
“Hey. I’m gonna ram you. Don’t say nothin’,” Glasser said. He pulled the covers off Rob and dragged his shorts down. Glasser was already naked, his dick already hard because he had found some hip-hop videos on the TV, which were thinly disguised softcore pornography. He slid his dick between Rob’s cheeks and climbed into the bed with him.
Rob wanted to ask a bunch of questions — did Glasser want a ride to his parole officer tomorrow? Did he want to use a condom? Did he want the lights on? Did he want Rob to get on all fours? That was the position men seemed to want the most often — because it didn’t require them to look at Rob’s face, his breastless chest or his cock and balls. From behind, Rob looked very feminine except for the short haircut. But then, it was dark in here anyway, so Glasser could have easily pretended Rob was female in any position.
In any case, Glasser didn’t seem too concerned about that. His hairy chest scratched at Rob’s smooth back, as Glasser humped his dick between Rob’s cheeks.
“Shush…” Glasser said after he let out a groan. He kept on shushing Rob, even though Rob barely peeped. It was Glasser who kept grunting and clucking his tongue against his teeth whenever Rob didn’t move in the direction he wanted.
Glasser brought the covers back up as though he wanted to cover this up, so no one could see what was happening. He lifted his hips up to give himself some leverage, then aimed his dick for Rob’s asshole.
“Open that ass, punk, lemme in,” Glasser said, whispering breathlessly into Rob’s ear. He slapped one of Rob’s cheeks just as his dick pushed in.
Rob grunted. At last, he finally made a sound, and Glasser erupted in a torrent of hushing. Rob squirmed as pressure hit his ass, an intense pushing sensation that was hard to take at first — this was all going so fast. After waiting for hours, Rob was finally getting rammed by his favorite hustler yet, he just needed a moment to adjust.
But Glasser wasn’t waiting a moment. He gritted his teeth and pumped his hips once more, forcing more of his dick down and into Rob’s ass. He was relentless.
He pushed Rob’s face into the mattress. “Lift ya asshole up.” He lifted his own body up as he rammed all the way in and out now. Rob had to raise his hips to meet Glasser’s cock, and soon Rob was knelt over instead of on all fours. He cried out and groaned, but Glasser again shushed him. “Quiet, keep it real quiet…”
Glasser had gotten into the habit of plowing men on the downlow, in the darkness and quiet, during his first stay in jail. Back then, he had been in a small local jail with a sheriff who strictly forbade premarital sex and even circlejerking — that was what Glasser’s biker gang traditionally did when they got arrested, to “christen” their new cell. So Glasser had started ramrodding his cellmate with the lights off, as quietly as possible, and with blankets covering him.
That was why now, even though the positioning made it awkward, Glasser tried to keep the blankets covering up his crotch and Rob’s ass. He had to use one hand on that so he could only use one hand to hold Rob in position. He pressed down on Rob’s head, which meant he couldn’t hold onto Rob’s ass — instead, every time Rob moved too much, Glasser growled to signal he should keep his ass high. And when Rob’s motion made the blanket fall away, Glasser smacked his asscheek.
“Shush, I’m gonna nut now, I’m gonna nut…” As Glasser felt his orgasm approach, he collapsed onto the bed. This felt good. It was like making love to a woman. He pulled the covers over Rob all the way up to the neck. That made it easy, especially in the dark, to pretend Rob was a woman — Glasser wasn’t pretending that, but he felt he needed to leave the option open, so he could, and so he could tell others later (not that he would tell anyone about this) that he had had to pretend Rob was a woman in order to ram him.
But actually, Glasser didn’t pretend that at all. He just wanted to bust a nut. He slid onto his side, and wrapped both hands all the way around Rob’s chest. He even kissed Rob’s cheek and nuzzled his neck as he orgasmed.
“Ah, goddamn, yeah, keep ya asshole open, keep it open…” Glasser moaned right into Rob’s ear. His breath condensed on his cheek. “Keep it open, pansy, lemme fill you up…”
Rob sprayed his own wad onto his belly and into his hands, just as he felt Glasser’s muscles spasm against his back. The petrichorian smell that clung to his unwashed body was overpowering now that it was trapped by the sheet, and since Rob was smaller than Glasser, he was buried in the scent of Glasser’s chest hair and armpit sweat.
Cum flew into Rob’s ass. Glasser was one of those who stayed still as he came, his dick all the way in, spurting wad after wad of white-hot cum. It was creamy and thick, sticky, seeping into Rob’s flesh. He felt it flowing within him.
Glasser was motionless for what felt like forever, as liquid orgasm coursed through his veins. He hadn’t blown a nut this good since prison. He attributed that to Rob having a nicer ass than most of the common prostitutes he hooked up with on the street. Being able to mess around in a bed instead of behind a dumpster helped a lot too. And Rob was clean enough to kiss, not that he intended to do any kissing.
After one final spurt of jizz up Rob’s guts, Glasser began humping again, very slowly, just grinding, sliding his half-hard dick around within Rob’s ass. He grunted along with Rob when the pain grew more intense, and Rob clenched, sending a wave of pleasure through Glasser’s post-orgasmic body.
“Shit…” Glasser said. He sighed, and for just a moment, he stayed there, breathing heavily, dick sliding moistly out of Rob’s ass. He kissed Rob’s cheek. It was affectionate and intimate, and Glasser loved it.
But he couldn’t let himself continue that. He rolled over and off Rob’s back. Rob took a deep breath.
“Thanks,” Rob said.
Glasser stood and lit a cigarette — mainly because he knew Rob didn’t allow smoking in the house and he wanted to show he did whatever he wanted, that he wasn’t letting some man be the boss of him. The smell of tobacco filled the air. Glasser smoked quietly, standing near enough to the bed that Rob could hug his hairy thighs and clean his dick off with a tissue.
Then Glasser grunted and walked out of the bedroom. “I’ll sleep on the couch, asshole,” he said. “You owe me fifty bucks for the car and two hundred for plowing you in the ass.” He paused. “Get me up at nine o’clock and drive me to the parole office. You better buy me breakfast too. Not Burger King.”
“Okay.”
Glasser went back into the other room to sleep on the couch. Last thing he did before going to sleep was sliding Rob’s ipad into the backpack he brought over here. No punk, he thought, deserves to go without being robbed.

Elmer Hackensack

It was a middle-aged janitor. He had dark-brown skin and deep-set eyes, with a hefty, well-muscled body that still had plenty of meat to it — he was no sculpted gym rat. Desmond’s jaw dropped because he was so aroused. He wanted Elmer. He needed him. Elmer was close enough that Desmond could smell the cleaning solutions that clung to his clothes. The most overwhelming odor was bleach, which looked to have been splashed on Elmer’s workpants, covered in faded spots especially near the ankles. He had a gloriously thick body like he used to be a bodybuilder, and he still brimmed with power. A few twinges of gray in his hair were enough to make Desmond’s dick so hard he struggled to walk until he rearranged himself in his pants. His voice was deep and raspy, with the more sonorous tones blocked by the shut door. All Desmond heard was the throaty, gravelly part of his voice.

From The Janitor

The Janitor

Desmond is bored at an art museum when he spies a surly janitor with an alluring physique… setting Desmond off on another round of alpha male rough trade!

Read it now as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Desmond was in an art museum, devoted to antiquities, because there was a doe-eyed docent he was interested in. The museum was deserted though. There was probably more foot traffic in the tombs and burial sites the objets d’art here were looted from. There were a few Roman and Greek statues brought from Europe, but otherwise it was mostly Native American pieces from throughout the American Southwest and Mexico. Necklaces, arrows and bows, strips of leather used for something or another, plus an array of glittering gold Aztec sculptures.
Some of it was rather interesting. Desmond stood for a long time reading about the ancient Mesoamerican ball game in which the losing team was executed. The painting that depicted the game was lifelike, and really made Desmond feel like he was back there. What would it have been like to live in a culture that valued human life so lowly? Or was it even a low value? Maybe it was more of a matter of them valuing the ball game so highly instead. What other aspects of their culture did this attitude affect without leaving an archaeological trace? Did women race to weave clothing with the slowest among them executed? Did people commit suicide when they lost other games?
One of the Aztec men illustrated playing the ball game was so handsome it made Desmond think about the sturdy yet slender docent he had come here in search of. Desmond wasn’t really into Aztec men, just this one illustration.
“Oh, indeed, this is a beautiful piece,” said a woman, who peered closely at a crudely carved woman. Her voice startled Desmond, nearly making him knock over the figurine she was looking at. “Isn’t it? Look at the form. The form. Indeed, the mastery thereof.” She glanced at her companions, a group of other females and one male whose sexual interest in her was apparent.
“Yeah. The mastery. It’s… uh… gorgeous.”
“Oh, yeah, that is a beautiful piece. It really speak to the essence of soul itself.”
“Good point,” said the classy, elegant woman, whom Desmond already hated. She gestured grandly to another objet: a human-like shape etched onto a rock. “Oh isn’t this lovely! The Aztecs were such an impressionistic people!”
Desmond couldn’t take any more of that kind of pretentious nonsense, so he hurried away. It was probably just a child playing with a sharpened rock, he thought, that etching didn’t look like a completed piece of artwork. It wasn’t impressionistic, it was bad, he thought. He sighed. People were so annoying. Now he remembered why he didn’t like museums.
Only now the docent with a degree from Cornell, Rakwan, with the dimples and the lion tattoo on his neck, seemed to be gone. Desmond shrugged. Oh well, he thought, maybe I could get some rough trade while I’m here.
That made him chuckle. A museum was not a place for rough trade. The males here were betas, dorks and nerds. Desmond did not see the appeal. Looking for rough trade here would be like asking a McDonald’s cashier for the gourmet menu.
That white boy art enthusiast was cute, especially in how he flirted with that woman, but still, he was white and not handsome, and anyway, he was with a girl so he would not likely be willing to dip on the downlow with Desmond. None of the other males here were even remotely eligible. A lot of them were elderly, and the rest were skinny or fat nerds.
This trip seemed to have been a total bust, he thought. He turned around to head for the front door, nearly knocking over an elderly white man who hobbled away in a hurry.
Normally Desmond was polite, unfailingly so. But this particular old white man seemed unfazed by Desmond bumping into him for that first fraction of a second — then he swore, but only when he saw the color of Desmond’s skin.
“You piece-of-shit street trash,” said the old man, his voice creaky and tremulous. “Watch where you’re going, boy.”
The racial implications of the encounter were obvious to Desmond. But the old man’s voice was low, so no one heard him but Desmond. He scoffed. “Why don’t you watch yourself, you old coot,” Desmond said. “Don’t you tell me what to do! I can lay you out, old man!”
A few people heard Desmond raise his voice. He realized only too late that this wouldn’t work out for him — the old man seemed sympathetic, hadn’t said anything explicitly racist (and no one but Desmond heard him say anything at all) and Desmond had, in fact, bumped into him. The onlookers all glared at Desmond as though he had just stomped a puppy.
“Hey! You! Nigguh, you over there flouncin’ ‘bout like some princess in a tutu! You can’t talk like that!”
It was a middle-aged janitor. He had dark-brown skin and deep-set eyes, with a hefty, well-muscled body that still had plenty of meat to it — he was no sculpted gym rat. Desmond’s jaw dropped because he was so aroused.
The man’s name was Elmer, according to his nametag.
“It wasn’t like it seemed,” Desmond said, “That old man was racist-“
“Uh-huh, save it for the security guards,” Elmer said. He shoved Desmond towards a service hallway. The old man smirked and the crowd gasped all together. Desmond rolled his eyes but didn’t fight back. Elmer snarled and growled. “You can’t be disruptive here, boi. We ain’t got no time for yo’ princess nonsense.”
Desmond went with him, his mind already reeling at the possibilities. He wanted Elmer. He needed him. Elmer was close enough that Desmond could smell the cleaning solutions that clung to his clothes. The most overwhelming odor was bleach, which looked to have been splashed on Elmer’s workpants, covered in faded spots especially near the ankles. He had a gloriously thick body like he used to be a bodybuilder, and he still brimmed with power. A few twinges of gray in his hair were enough to make Desmond’s dick so hard he struggled to walk until he rearranged himself in his pants.
“I don’t have to go with you,” Desmond said. He wanted to take control of this situation, and he knew his rights.
“Then you can get outta my museum,” Elmer said. “I ain’t lettin’ you talk to no old white man like that, nigguh. That ain’t proper. Some flouncin’ little sissy like you… This is a nice museum, for nice folk.”
Desmond had to giggle. He clutched Elmer’s well-muscled arm as though being escorted to a cotillion.
“Let go.”
“Ain’t you gotta escort me to my fate?” Desmond asked with exaggerated melodrama, like he was about to faint and needed to lean on Elmer for support.
“You can walk yaself,” Elmer said.
“But I won’t,” Desmond said. They passed a door labeled ‘Supply Closet’, so Desmond stopped walking right there. He opened the door. “What’s in here?”
“Just some cleanin’ shit, boi,” Elmer said. “C’mon, security office is down there.”
“What I’m going to do,” Desmond said. He placed one finger on Elmer’s chest. “is go in there. You’re going to follow me. I’m going to get on my knees. I’m going to pull your pants down, and I’m going to jerk you off. Then you’re going to ram me in the ass. You can blow the world’s biggest load in me, or on me, or in whatever manner suits your fancy. We’ll be real quick, and real quiet, and no one will ever know you did it.”
“If you think I’m some kinda pervert, you are one crazy-!”
“You didn’t let me finish. The last step would be when I put one hundred and nine dollars in your pocket,” Desmond said. He was a little disappointed because he had hoped Elmer would do it for free. But he didn’t mind paying. “That’s what I’m going to do. You don’t need to give any feedback on that plan. Just go along with it. Or don’t. If you don’t follow me into the closet, I will be so disappointed. But I’ll move on. Maybe I’ll find some white dick. I wonder what Vanilla Ice is up to these days…”
Elmer furrowed his brow. He opened his mouth but he didn’t say anything. Desmond took that for a yes. He went into the supply closet. There was just barely enough room in there for him to mess with a thick man like Elmer. That was fine with Desmond, who liked the idea of being in a cramped space with him.
Dropping to his knees, Desmond opened his mouth. He could tell Elmer wanted to do this, but yet he still stood there in the doorway. He looked back and forth down the hallway. Desmond just kneeled with his mouth open. He could see the bulge in Elmer’s workpants.
“This ain’t allowed, don’t you think I’m some kinda pervert,” Elmer said. “I don’t got a habit of gettin’ jerked off by sissies in closets. Nosir, I don’t do that.”
He took one step towards the closet as though going to come in, then changed his mind and slammed the door shut with Desmond in and Elmer outside. Desmond was there in the dark by himself, mouth wide open.
Desmond was disappointed, he had really thought this was going to work; older black men like Elmer were usually game, when he could get them alone. Was this a no?
Then Desmond heard the footsteps of someone walking down the hall. Elmer was trying to look inconspicuous.
“G’evenin’, Mr. Moskowitz,” Elmer said outside the closet. His voice was deep and raspy, with the more sonorous tones blocked by the shut door. All Desmond heard was the throaty, gravelly part of his voice. “I’s moppin’ that west hallway like you said, suh, real good, uh-huh.”
Mr. Moskowitz responded, but Desmond didn’t hear what he said; it sounded polite and encouraging, but patronizing. Desmond suspected that Mr. Moskowitz didn’t remember who Elmer was.
The door opened a few seconds later and Elmer strode in. “Fuckin’ asshole, I oughta lay that mothafucka out,” he muttered as Mr. Moskowitz’s footsteps could be heard walking away.
The smell of cleaning solutions was even more intense here, joined by the musky mud-scent of the mop-bucket and the soapy deodorant Elmer wore. Desmond recognized the hair pomade that Elmer used too, because Desmond’s grandfather had worn it. That made Desmond giggle. Where did Elmer even get pomade like that?
The closet had a single bare lightbulb in it, that cast everything in shadows but still provided enough illumination to see. Desmond reached up to tweak Elmer’s nipples through his clothes, but Elmer snarled and slapped his hand away.
“No messin’ around, just get to it,” Elmer said. “I ain’t here to seduce you, nosir.” He paused. “And you definitely ain’t here to seduce me, don’t even think ‘bout that. Nosir. I am strictly a top, boy, fo’ real, don’t even think ‘bout talkin’ me out of it.”
“I won’t-“
“I will lay you out, and don’t think I won’t,” Elmer said. Despite his threats, he came across as a crotchety old man more than a violent thug. He made Desmond smile more the more serious he acted, which only made Elmer more angry. “Quit ya laughin’, boi, this ain’t a Richard Pryor show. Ain’t no one makin’ ya laugh here.”
Elmer dropped his bleach-splattered pants as he ranted. He wore briefs — not many of Desmond’s conquests wore tighty-whities anymore. Desmond moaned in desire because he could see that massive mature cock already twitching beneath the threadbare white fabric.
His tongue planted on it without removing Elmer’s underwear. Elmer grunted like he didn’t approve, but he didn’t stop Desmond. Desmond licked his dick through his underwear until it was so soaked it was virtually translucent.
“You getting serious, huh? Lickin’ me through my drawers, that’s nasty. That’s real nasty, boi. You must be all kinda ashamed, yessir,” Elmer said.
Elmer’s dick was wet already, hard and leaking precum even before he had dropped his briefs. Finally Desmond pulled them down, his cock popped out and Desmond swallowed it to the root. Elmer closed his eyes and grunted to conceal a moan that he worried would sound loving — he didn’t want to give this man any kind of wrong impression.
“Finally. I swear, you sissies is always playin’ ‘round and shit, not takin’ nothin’ serious.” He murmured like he didn’t really expect Desmond to listen. “Talkin’ mean to some old white man, you ingrate-“
Desmond pulled off his dick, which was just beginning to get hard. “Look, I swear, that man was blatantly racist. He only got mad when he saw that I was black, and I know-“
“He call you a nigger?”
“No-“
“Then shut ya face. You ain’t encounter real racism, nigguh,” Elmer said. He frowned, which looked like a natural face for him — Desmond strongly suspected Elmer was always bitterly frowning. Elmer slapped him with his cock a few times. “Quit playin’ wit’ it!”
He rammed it into Desmond’s mouth. But Desmond wanted to frustrate him and make him play with his cock. Elmer wanted to just lean back and let Desmond service him. But Desmond kept teasing him until he took the initiative to spread Desmond’s cheeks and drill into his throat.
He growled. Young people, Elmer thought, never took anything seriously, not even dicks. He had to grip Desmond’s face with one hand and his scalp with the other. He held on to Desmond’s hair tightly, giving himself adequate leverage to pound away at Desmond’s throat.
His balls slapped against Desmond’s chin, and Desmond opened his throat as much as he could to allow it. He clasped Elmer’s thick cheeks as he got throated down.
“Ah, shit…” Girls rarely deep-throated Elmer, and they never let him throat them like this — not anymore, and rarely even when he was young and handsome. Elmer could tell that Desmond not only loved it, he enjoyed the occasional gag and choke, the sputtering, the spit that built up in his mouth and dripped onto the concrete floor of the closet with every thrust of Elmer’s hips. His flat belly smacked Desmond’s nose, pubic hair scratching at his lips.
When Desmond felt Elmer’s balls about to crawl up in his sac, he pulled his face away. He had to swat Elmer’s hands from his cheeks too, or he would have kept plowing into his throat and cum without noticing. Elmer chased his mouth with his dick until he realized that Desmond had stopped.
But Desmond pushed him off and giggled when Elmer roared in frustration. “Whatchoo doin’, nigguh? Keep goin’! C’mon, where you goin’?” He kept humping even though Desmond’s mouth was nowhere’s near his cock, like his crotch was on auto-pilot, now just humping the air.
“I said I wanted to get rammed in the ass too,” Desmond said. “You better get started before you blow your wad.” He gripped the door to the supply closet for support. He jutted his ass high in the air.
“Man, nigguh, I was all up in ya mouth-“
“I’m paying for this, and I said I wanted anal,” Desmond said. He turned around and shook his ass in Elmer’s direction. He backed up and rubbed his asscrack over Elmer’s cock.
“Oh? You want it in the butt, huh?” Elmer said with a frustrated snarl. He grabbed Desmond by the back of the neck and held on as he slammed his cock right in. He spread Desmond’s asscheeks. Elmer bit his lip and sank in deeply, all in one smooth motion.
The pain was extraordinary at first. Elmer made no effort to be easy on Desmond. He penetrated him with so much force Desmond’s head banged against the door. A girl, Elmer thought, would have never let him do all that, but Desmond cringed and moaned like he liked it.
The pain was potent, but brief, and Desmond cried out with pleasure. “Damn…” Desmond gritted his teeth, and Elmer gripped his asscheeks.
“Open up that ass, nigguh.” Elmer smacked his back until Desmond did as he was told. Desmond managed to relax his ass, and the rest of Elmer’s thick shaft jammed into his asshole. His flat belly smacked against Desmond’s cheeks. Elmer used his weight to force his dick in deeper and deeper, until at last every inch throbbed within Desmond’s asshole.
“Ah, ow, shit!” Desmond bit his lip. He cried out again, fists pounding on the door. If anyone was out in the service corridor now, they’d definitely hear what was happening, and Desmond didn’t think he had the wherewithal to reduce it.
“No noise, boi,” Elmer said, though he was just as loud as Desmond. He used one callused hand to hold both of Desmond’s delicate wrists in place. That meant Desmond was unable to support himself at all. He leaned forward, with Elmer ramming him from behind, supported entirely by Elmer’s powerful arms and his thick dick in Desmond’s ass.
So he rammed Desmond harder and rougher than he would have ever fucked a woman. He rammed until his balls slapped loudly against Desmond’s ass. He kept thinking sooner or later, Desmond would tell him to stop or slow down, but that never happened.
When Desmond didn’t complain, Elmer even grabbed Desmond’s hair and held on that way. He sighed and moaned. No woman let him do that anymore. They disliked it when he pulled their hair and even choked them a little.
“Come on, boi…” Elmer’s voice was still harsh and guttural, but now with a smoothly seductive tone to it that made Desmond shudder. Desmond felt like his own cock was going to explode. He lost himself in Elmer’s thick chest.
He put Desmond in a chokehold, not real tight, just enough to make him squeal and clench around Elmer’s dick. Elmer loved having total control over Desmond’s tight feminine frame. In the darkness of the supply closet, Elmer thought, the only thing separating Desmond’s ass from a woman’s was that Desmond didn’t complain when Elmer slammed into him with all his might.
That’s because Desmond loved it. Desmond tightened his fingers into claws that dug at Elmer’s forearm, which were firm like iron beneath the flesh padding of his age. Elmer didn’t notice, he was too busy experiencing an orgasm more intense than anything he’d felt in twenty years.
“Shit, boi, you take it good… You feel me inside ya, huh? Say it-“
“I feel you inside me…” Desmond’s voice was weak and tinny, almost plaintive.
Elmer’s voice was deep and scratchy, resonant in the cramped closet. “Say my name, boi.”
“Elmer… Ram me, Elmer! Ram me hard!” Desmond said as loud as he could.
For just a moment, Elmer didn’t feel his sore knees or the ever-present exhaustion or his worry about his blood sugar. All that mattered was getting every inch of dickmeat in the squirming man’s tight hole and making him beg for more.
They both went to the ground, landing with a loud crash that shattered a box of lightbulbs on the floor. Elmer felt himself kissing Desmond on the lips even as he told himself he wouldn’t do that. Cum flew in ribbons into Desmond’s ass. Desmond cried out in shock as Elmer’s tongue entered his mouth.
A the last few jets of cum filled Desmond’s ass, Elmer grunted into his ear. “No kissin’, boi, I oughtta smack you for that.” He squeezed on Desmond’s neck a little more to remind him who was boss. He didn’t even stop kissing as he told Desmond to quit it.
Desmond gasped. He was dizzy and delirious. He leaned his head back, kissing Elmer on the scruff of his neck. Elmer grumbled but allowed it, still lightly humping his limpening dick in and out of Desmond’s ass. Their tongues slathered spit along each other’s cheeks and lips. “No more kissin’, boi, quit that. I ain’t ya boyfriend, I’m ya daddy.”
“Ram me, daddy!” Desmond shouted. He loved the daddy look, and he liked how acting like a slutty female seemed to make Elmer treat him like one. Elmer ground his dick within Desmond’s ass, making sweet love to his prostate as he kissed every inch of Desmond’s face.
It was only polite to give a reacharound, Elmer thought, his mind working too fast for him to censor his own thoughts. That was another thing he had “forgotten” — or preferred to pretend hadn’t happened — from his youth. It felt so natural now he didn’t even think about it.
As the last vestiges of his climax roiled his veins, Elmer reached around Desmond’s body to his cock. He grimaced a little at the feel of it throbbing beneath his grasp but he stroked anyway.
Now he remembered why he liked it. “C’mon, nigguh, cum, blow ya nut.” His coarse voice was aimed directly into Desmond’s ear. Elmer had gotten in the habit of stroking his bottoms off after he came because it made them stay on his dick until it was totally soft, and when they orgasmed, they clenched down tight on it all over again.
Cum sprayed into Desmond’s ass, more than Desmond thought possible. He moaned as it filled him up, but it kept going until Desmond couldn’t moan anymore. Even then, Elmer’s body — perfectly still, muscles taut — kept shooting, wad after wad of creamy cum seeping into Desmond’s flesh.
So much semen filled him up that it dripped out and down his thighs, and Desmond thought he could taste it. It had coated his insides like he had become one with Elmer’s cock, which still shot the last few drops of cum from his low-hanging balls.
“Hmmm…” Desmond’s feminine, lilting voice filled the tiny closet. Since Elmer’s handjob was rather awkward and difficult to accept, continuing as it did throughout Elmer’s orgasm, Desmond didn’t cum as quickly as he might have. That wasn’t a bad thing from his perspective. It gave him even more opportunities to grind his ass back on Elmer’s now soft dick, making a moist dripping sound like a clogged drain as more cum splashed out and over Elmer’s low-hanging balls.
“You seduced me, boi, that ain’t right. I don’t give men handjobs,” Elmer said, his throaty voice making Desmond’s spine shudder. “That ain’t a thing I do. I oughta kick ya ass for that.”
Elmer wanted to keep talking, maybe even hit Desmond a few times — not real hard, just enough to be sure Desmond wouldn’t try to be his boyfriend. But when Desmond orgasmed, his asshole clenched just as Elmer had expected. It was like a second orgasm for Elmer; it reawakened all of those sensations that had just passed. His dick twitched and Desmond spasmed.
A massive load sprayed over the floor and Elmer’s hand — he hadn’t stopped the reacharound even as he demanded Desmond do so. Elmer kept stroking, ignoring the cum that coated his fingers.
Elmer grunted. Then, at last, he couldn’t take any more. He let go. Desmond nearly toppled to the ground, and Elmer’s cock plopped meatily out of his hole.
“Goddamn…” Desmond said with a moan.
“No blasphemin’,” Elmer said out of pure instinct — he didn’t allow young black men to blaspheme in front of him. That made Desmond giggle a little as he rubbed his face over Elmer’s powerful chest. Elmer used a paper towel to wipe his dick clean, ignoring Desmond’s groping hands.
“Hmm… Thanks for that,” Desmond said. He pulled his wallet out of his pants and handed over the money to him. It was all of the cash he had in his wallet.
Elmer nodded. “Don’t you think I’m some kinda street whore. I ain’t poor. I ain’t some fuckin’ hobo or some shit,” he said. He frowned as he let Desmond play with his heavy meat. When he had enough, he swiped it away. “You gotta pay more if you wanna keep playin’.”
Desmond clucked his tongue. “I think I’m done,” he said. “Thanks for that. I had a good time. This is a great museum,” He managed to kiss Elmer’s bicep once more before Elmer shoved him away.
“Get outta here, sissy. You got some dick, you done for the day. Ain’t no old white man in here for you to cuss at.”
Desmond sighed. “I ain’t cuss out some old — I-” He stopped himself. Why argue about this? It didn’t matter. “Nevermind, Elmer.” Desmond opened the door and winced at the bright light in the hall. He headed out into the deserted corridor.
“Go’n, boi, don’t come back neither. If you wanna taste my dick again, hang out in the alley behind the Canal Street Bar,” Elmer said. “I usually piss drunk in the alley before I go home. Maybe I let you take another taste.”