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!

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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 Officer

Desmond is a trustee at the local police station, and that means he gets his pick of alpha-male cop meat… except for the studly Officer Savillano.

Until one day Savillano himself arranges a meetup. His wife is sick, and he is desperate to get a load off, which Desmond is all too happy to help with!

Can Officer Salazar Savillano find the sweet release he craves?!

Read it now as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

The storage closet was dim and dark. Desmond Talley hurried in, then tried to switch the light on. The door shut as he flicked the switch. The light didn’t turn on. The closet remained pitch-black.
“Damn it,” he muttered to himself. “Nothing in this place works right.” He grabbed for the doorknob to reopen the door — just enough to get some light in so he could see.
But the door swung open before he could, and Officer Savillano walked in, quickly, quietly shutting the door behind himself as though he didn’t want anyone to see him come in here. Desmond caught a whiff of his cologne, which was potent and spicy, warm, musky, pungent, like the jockstrap of a very clean Chinese sailor.
Desmond had been in the jailhouse at Precinct 17 for a couple weeks, and he’d found it mind-crushingly dull. He had always greatly admired the male form, and he thought the one bright spot of going to prison was that the men would have marvelous physiques. That might be true in prison — Desmond hadn’t gone yet — but in a jail, it seemed, like the jailhouse here, the average inmate was sixty-four, sickly, fat and possessing a cock like a mosquito bite. Desmond was not into it. The one genuinely handsome guy he got to share a cell with at all was a male stripper (a bit of a prettyboy, but Desmond wasn’t going to complain) who was also literally piss-drunk. Desmond wasn’t into molesting unconscious prettyboys who stank of urine.
But the one bright spot was Officer Salazar Savillano.
That’s because Savillano was a thick-limbed amateur bodybuilder, with a craggy face, square jaw and an intense, stawk-laden accent like a Bronx cabbie. He was short, about Desmond’s height, and he carried around his muscles like he stole them from a much taller man. He had a harsh voice like he gargled with cigarette butts, which made the other cops call him a goblin.
“Yo, hey man, hey,” Officer Savillano said, whispering, his double-barreled voice resonating in the tiny closet, into which he followed Desmond.
The jailhouse was quiet because it was night-time in the middle of the week, no crowds of revelers in the drunk tank, no convention at the hotel filling up with desperate men and desperate hos, no holidays right now to drink at then drive home. It promised to be a night of quiet dullness at Precinct 17.
Except for this one dalliance in the closet, wherein Desmond got so close to Savillano he could smell both his cologne and the medical-grade deodorant he wore underneath it.
Savillano was the only officer on duty right now, though the kitchen crew was in the other room cleaning up for the night. Desmond wasn’t in his cell because he was a prefect now, which meant he was allowed out to work in the jailhouse. He mopped floors and did whatever other tasks the cops asked.
Sometimes that included jerking them off, when their no-doubt bitchy wives refused to put out. Sheriff Torkelson told Desmond he could say no any time he wanted, but Desmond had a thing for cops, and he hadn’t yet met one he would turn down. Savillano never asked though.
It was Officer Savillano who had asked him to come into this walk-in closet to get a box of breathalyzer tubes. As always, when that gravel-coated voice filled Desmond’s ears, Desmond felt a surge of adrenaline and shivered in the wake of his body heat. His uniform shirt was partially unbuttoned now, revealing his hairy chest. One pearly drop of sweat plopped off his heavy cavemanish brow onto Desmond’s nose, making him shimmy and lick his lips. The salty flavor flooded his senses.
“Yo, hey,” Officer Savillano said. His gravelly voice wavered, and it filled the air like a steam cloud, echoing in the walk-in closet. He pursed his lips and let out a little grumble like there were other things he wanted to say but hadn’t yet come up with the words to say them.
“Hey. The light isn’t working. I think the breathalyzer tubes are over here. But the lightbulb doesn’t work, I keep telling Jefferson he needs to get more lightbulbs, he’s such a retard. If you just open the door a crack-” Desmond blushed, not that anyone could see it. It was obvious Officer Savillano wanted to talk to him, probably to ask if Desmond knew who was smuggling weed into the jail. Desmond did know, but he wasn’t about to say.
His hands clutched Savillano around the waist, which Officer Savillano didn’t stop or even respond to. Desmond liked the thickness of his meaty frame, and his muscles flexed under Desmond’s touch.
Trustees weren’t allowed to touch cops, and cops couldn’t touch trustees except by following the Five Pillars of Compliance. Desmond had seen the training video, and he’d watched the cops sign off on it without watching the video. Desmond couldn’t blame them for not watching it, but the rank hypocrisy did annoy him. Desmond had had to watch the same video, so that he would know how to comply, using the Five Pillars of Compliance.
So far, not a single Pillar had been used.
“I know it don’t work. The light ain’t workin’ cuz I took the bulb out,” Savillano said. He paused. “I threw it away. I’ll tell Jefferson to put in the order. But shush up.” He wrapped his powerful arms around Desmond, whose heart fluttered, then Savillano picked him up to switch positions with him. That placed Desmond right next to the door.
“Oh. Savillano…” Desmond was confused, a bit scared, and a whole lot aroused. Savillano’s warmth and the musk of his cologne swarmed and swirled around him, and Desmond got dizzy in his thick-bodied presence.
“I put ya next to the door, on account of so you can leave,” Savillano said, aiming his voice right at the back of Desmond’s neck, where his breath condensed moistly. He whispered, but he had such a deep, potent voice that it wasn’t very quiet. No one was around anyway — it was after five, so all the cops save Savillano were gone. There were only four inmates in the jail census, so there was only a need for one officer at night.
“Oh…” Desmond’s dick rocketed to attention. He was already imagining getting rammed by Savillano’s hopefully fat cock, but the intellectual part of his mind assumed that wasn’t it. Savillano presumably had something else to ask. Desmond was just too horny to think of any other reason to go through all this.
“So… I ain’t like… a bad guy or nothin’,” Officer Savillano said. He talked a lot of shit about his prowess with women, he was always bragging about it. Desmond didn’t believe a word of it. Savillano was married, and he didn’t cheat. Desmond would put money on it. Savillano liked to front, but he wasn’t the kind of man women lust for. He wasn’t charming, rich or even tall.
“Oh. Okay…”
“I mean… Look, man… Y’know ‘bout my wife?”
“No.”
“Ain’t Thorne tell you?”
“No.”
“Oh. She got cancer, man. She-“
“Oh, wow, I’m sorry, man, that sucks…”
“Yeah. She got bone cancer, she gonna be dead soon.”
“Damn…” This dark-closet encounter was becoming more morose than arousing, Desmond thought. But he caught another whiff of Officer Savillano’s natural musk beneath his cologne, and Desmond had to suppress an embarrassing moan.
“Yeah, look, man… You can say no. Forgett’boutit, yu know. It ain’t a big deal. I got, y’know… I can do… othuh shit… I just was, yu know, like, whatevuh…” He snorted and wiped more sweat off his square-jawed face with one hand. “Look, dawg, man, like… I been, yu know… You cool, right?”
Desmond nodded, too nervous to say anything. Then he remembered he was in the dark, so he had to say yes out loud. Before he could, Officer Savillano just kept talking as though he had said it anyway.
“Well… I mean… Ain’t no big deal, but yu know, I seen you lookin’ at me, and shit, and Thorne told me you-” He paused, and Desmond didn’t need to see his face to know he was blushing. Savillano chuckled throatily. “He say you told him you’d eat beef stew outta my ass.”
Desmond giggled. “He told you that?”
“Yeah, I mean, whatevuh, but, yu know… I don’t want that. Not that. That’s weird. And gross. And dirty. And-“
“It was just a joke. I wouldn’t really eat beef stew out of your ass. I’m not sure it’s possible. Maybe like some pad thai.”
“Uh-huh. Well, yu know… Just…”
“What’s wrong, Savillano? Just say it. If you don’t want me to check out your ass all the time, just say so. And, y’know, get an uglier ass, or at least looser-fitting uniform pants. I like muscular thighs, and I can not lie.” Desmond was embarrassed now that he assumed he was in trouble for looking at Savillano’s ass. Could I be arrested over that? He didn’t think so.
“Can I ram you?!” he blurted out.
“What?”
Savillano murmured to himself. “Look, man, you can say no. I ain’t comin’ to you as an officer of the law. You gettin’ outta here in two weeks, ain’t nothin’ I could do about that even if I wanted to, which I don’t. You ain’t gonna be in trouble or nothin’, you can say no.”
“Okay…”
“But, yu know… If you wanted… I’s…” He grabbed his crotch, which Desmond couldn’t see but did sense in the darkness. “I could do, like… I just… Yu know…”
“Oh, you can’t screw your wife anymore, I see…” Desmond said with a sympathetic cluck of his tongue. “Of course, sweetie.” He touched Savillano’s belly. He was a weightlifter, so he had a strong, no-fat belly, but it wasn’t flat either, he was muscular enough that his belly protruded a bit. His muscles all twitched and rippled as soon as Desmond touched him through his uniform shirt, like he had been waiting a long time to be touched.
“Ah, shit, okay, thanks, thanks a lot… You can make me stop or slow down or whatever. Just say it, no problem,” Savillano said. He cleared his throat. “It ain’t even like I can’t, yu know, mess around wit’ a girlie. I got females all over, y’know, they want me, they be sayin’ I should calls ‘em up as soon as… Yu know, if I evuh wanna play around, ya feel me? But I ain’t gonna cheat on my wife on her deathbed. That ain’t right.” He sighed a long chambersome sigh of relief. “Alright, man. Here.” He had a bag with him, or maybe he had placed it in the closet in preparation for this encounter.
Desmond had been daydreaming about this for so long he went right to massaging Savillano’s biceps, making it hard for him to take things out of the plastic bag in his hands. Then Desmond wrinkled his nose as Savillano sprayed him with perfume. His muscles flexed beneath Desmond’s touch.
“There, that’s her perfume. Put this on,” Savillano said. He put a wig on Desmond. It was a long, feminine wig — blonde? Desmond couldn’t tell because it was too dark, but he thought maybe blond; Officer Savillano seemed like the type to date a blonde, or more likely an Italian raven with dyed blonde hair.
Savillano sniffed deep of Desmond’s scent, his big, ungainly nose coming so close it glancingly touched Desmond’s neck. Whatever he smelled there must been enticing, because Savillano moaned, and his thick-fingered, callused hands wrapped around Desmond’s waist. Desmond wasn’t allowed cologne in his cell, so he just smelled like soap and deodorant, hopefully. He did buy the soap that smelled like mango though.
“Girl, you smell good enough to eat…” Savillano said with a menacing rumble, sounding like that was how he initiated sex with his wife. Desmond shivered and let out a girlish giggle. He placed both hands on Savillano’s broad shoulders, then slowly helped him shrug off his uniform shirt. He leaned in and jerked a few droplets of sweat off Officer Savillano’s hairy chest, on the rim of his sweat-suffused wifebeater.
It was unwashed, Desmond realized. The undershirt. The uniform shirt was dry-cleaned, but Savillano wasn’t washing his clothes. Or rather, Mrs. Savillano wasn’t. That made Desmond again cluck his tongue sympathetically, though he didn’t say why. Maybe Officer Savillano realized it. In any case, a chamberous moan escaped from his chest as Desmond spat up and down the width and breadth of his powerful torso.
As Desmond removed his shirt, Savillano explored Desmond’s body with his hands. He knew he wasn’t with his wife, of course, but Desmond looked similar to her; he was the right height and size, and he even had a similar personality. Savillano felt his waist and his smooth thighs as he took Desmond’s pants down. He kept his hands away from Desmond’s crotch and chest, not wanting to shatter his own illusion. Desmond smelled so much like her that Savillano could picture her as she had been back when she was well.
She had told him to sleep with other women. When she went into the hospital last month — and it was pretty obvious, no matter what the doctors said, that she wouldn’t ever leave — she had told Savillano to find someone else, not to even wait for her to pass away. Savillano had refused, of course.
But the more he heard the sound of Desmond’s effeminate panting just like his wife made when they shared the marital bed, the more Savillano knew he had to do it. The fact that Desmond was a man made it easier — physically more difficult, but emotionally easier because it wasn’t cheating. Savillano remained fiercely devoted to his wife and would never cheat on her.
When she died though… he didn’t want to think about that until it happened. Dating was going to be difficult. He hadn’t been on a date in twenty years.
Desmond dropped to his knees to handle Savillano’s cock, but much to his surprise, Savillano caught him. He wrapped his muscular arms around Desmond once more. Desmond gripped Savillano’s corded-muscle forearm while Savillano swooped down and kissed him on the lips.
He moaned into Desmond’s mouth. Desmond never thought an alpha male like Officer Savillano would agree to kiss him, so he was momentarily disconcerted. Then he kissed him back, and Savillano’s tongue plunged into his mouth.
Desmond wrapped his arms around Savillano’s broad shoulders, then jumped up and gripped his thick torso with his legs. “You’re so strong, sweetie-“
“Call me big boy,” Savillano said breathlessly, before resuming his shower of kisses..
“Ooh, I love your muscles, big boy,” Desmond said. He kissed Savillano on the neck while he unbuttoned his uniform shirt. “I bet you’ve been struggling with overflowing balls for a long time, huh?” He reached down and teasingly touched his cock through his uniform slacks with one hand, the other one massaging the hump of his toned biceps. “You’re so strong…”
“I need you…” He sounded like he was near tears. He kissed Desmond again, his tongue exploring Desmond’s mouth. He was firm and forceful, but gentle, his muscles hard as iron beneath Desmond’s touch. Desmond swooned, dizzy with desire, glad he could support himself on Officer Savillano’s sturdy body.
He put Desmond down, then took his shirt off while Desmond dropped back to his knees. Desmond flopped his cock out through the fly of his slacks. He was already half-hard, and Desmond kissed him right on the cocktip.
“Ooh, big boy, I can’t wait to taste your dick in my throat. Can I deep-throat you? Please?”
“Course, baby…” He pursed his lips. He moaned as Desmond flopped his cock over his face, and Desmond teased his tongue along the underside of his veiny shaft. “C’mon, baby, make it wet…”
Desmond knew he was good at getting a man off. He could get any man off in minutes if he wanted to, which he did not. He swallowed his cock down to the root right away, making Officer Savillano’s whole huge body shudder and grunt.
He had a big dick. Desmond was glad because a lot of bodybuilder-types didn’t. They either started working out because they were self-conscious about their small cocks or else their dicks got smaller due to steroid use. But not Savillano. His muscles were entirely natural, his frame naturally hefty and inclined towards fatness — he prevented that by working out every day, jogging and lifting weights for hours. That was how he had met his wife, she was a personal trainer at his gym.
His dick was rock-hard now, throbbing in Desmond’s mouth. He gripped Desmond’s head and pushed his dick in and out of Desmond’s throat. It was a throating — which Desmond loved — but it was different, more affectionate than Desmond had expected. He would have assumed Savillano wanted aggressive, even violent head, but in fact he made sweet love to Desmond’s mouth.
He swayed his hips, clucking his tongue as he worked his dick in. Desmond focused on nothing but keeping his mouth wide open, letting his nose nuzzle into Officer Savillano’s wiry pubic hair. He experienced a flood of desire every time he felt Savillano’s cock pulsate in his throat, leaking torrent after torrent of salty precum down Desmond’s gullet. The taste was so bright and sunny, so thick and creamy, Desmond could tell Savillano had been starved of a woman’s touch for a long time.
“Oh, god, babe, you got such a nice mouth, babe, damn…” Savillano said. He clucked his tongue like he was being seductive and flirty with a girl.
Desmond gently massaged his balls. He figured this was one thing Savillano’s wife probably never did right — girls couldn’t do it so well because they didn’t have balls. Desmond knew how to make it feel good.
Sure enough, it made Savillano’s whole body shake. He grunted, and his muscles all tensed. He could have shot his load right then, but he didn’t. He pulled out of Desmond’s mouth, and his knob jabbed around on Desmond’s face. He chased it with his tongue.
“Lemme in ya ass, babe, okay?”
“Sure-“
“C’mon, I’ll be so gentle… It won’t be like last time, baby, I’ll go real slow and nice-like…” He bent down and kissed Desmond on the forehead. He cooed and moaned like he needed to seduce Desmond into doing it.
“You don’t have to be gentle-“
“Shush.” Savillano’s seductive voice was gone. “Don’t talk like a slut, man.”
“Oh, sorry.” Desmond had to put himself in the mindset of a woman. “I don’t know, big boy, what if it hurts? You could tear my ass up…”
“I won’t… I’ll make you feel so good, babe.” He kissed Desmond on the lips, seemingly uncaring of the taste of his own cock there. His tongue again explored Desmond’s mouth. Desmond wrapped his arms around those broad shoulders, and mounted his chest with his arms and legs. Officer Savillano held him aloft.
Desmond stood and gripped the shelves on the side of the closet. He stuck his ass out. The fact that it was dark in here helped it go more smoothly — Officer Savillano assumed that whatever Desmond was doing in the dark was what his ex-wife would have been doing, that Desmond was shimmying like she used to and moaning for more like she did. He grunted affirmatively like Desmond was doing it right, even though all Desmond did was turn around and grip the shelves.
His hairy chest pressed against Desmond’s back, his pants around his ankles. He squeezed his dick between Desmond’s cheeks. It was hot and thick and moist and throbbing like it was its own living being, and it was so fat it didn’t even fit between Desmond’s buttcheeks much less in his hole.
“Stick it in me, big boy…” Desmond said. He opened his ass the best he could. “C’mon, I need your cock, big boy…”
“I love you.” He grunted and slammed his dick in. A part of his mind was embarrassed because he hadn’t meant to say that, but it was overcome by the part of his mind that just wanted to ram Desmond’s tight hole. All he cared about in that moment was getting his dick in there.
Pain erupted in Desmond’s ass. He moaned, his whole body tensing at first. The agony lasted only a few seconds, however, before it melted away, replaced by an intense, overwhelming pleasure. His moan turned into a closet-shaking cringe of desire.
“Shush, it’s okay, baby, I love you, I love you, I’ll never hurt you…” Officer Savillano said. He again sounded like he was on the verge of tears, and he kissed the back of Desmond’s head. “Here, baby, you can bite me.” He wrapped one arm in front of Desmond’s face, giving Desmond perfect access to bite on the muscle of his forearm.
Desmond didn’t want to bite down though. He just nuzzled it, licking and jerking all the sweat off the surface of Savillano’s forearm. The sensations in his ass grew as Savillano worked his dick in deeper and deeper.
“Oh god, yes, ram me, big boy, ram me harder!”
Savillano grunted and grinned. “Hell yeah I will. You ready?”
“Yes!”
“Shush, don’t be so loud. Them kitchen folks could hear,” Savillano said. He kissed Desmond on the cheek and slammed his dick in. He pulled it out, grimacing and shushing Desmond as he did, then pistoned his powerful hips again.
Desmond slammed against the shelves, which shook, making more noise than Desmond ever had. But Officer Savillano didn’t seem to notice. He rammed harder and harder, grunting more with each thrust of his hips.
Wrapping his hand around his own dick, Desmond reached orgasm as Savillano’s cock rammed into his prostate over and over. The waves of pleasure wracking his body made Desmond tremble like the shelves. Beneath the bliss was just a little pain, enough to make the pleasure even more intense.
But it was also enough to make it difficult for Desmond to stay still. He danced between his feet while he sprayed his load over the shelves. Savillano lifted him up as he rammed, picking Desmond off the floor, just a foot or so, enough to give Savillano complete control over his ass.
“Oh god, yes, do it to me, big boy!” Desmond couldn’t control himself anymore. He was off the floor now, supported entirely by Savillano’s muscles and his manhood. Desmond’s bright red face gasped as the most incredible orgasm of his life hit him hard. Officer Savillano kissed him again as he too climaxed, groaning, moaning into Desmond’s waiting mouth.
Cum flowed into his ass. It had been months since Savillano rammed — he hadn’t gone more than a week or two without sex since high school, so he shot a massive load. It kept coming, filling Desmond up and seeping into his flesh.
Since Desmond wasn’t supporting himself, all of that cum slipped right back out, making a big frothy mess as Savillano kept gyrating. Even as his cock limpened inside Desmond’s ass, Savillano continuing humping, groaning and grimacing as he did. He nibbled on Desmond’s nape, while his callused hands roamed over Desmond’s chest and belly. He even glancingly touched the sensitive tip of Desmond’s cock, reawakening Desmond’s orgasmic shudders and moans of delight.
“Ah, baby, yeah… take it…” He bit his lip. He kept on grinding his dick within Desmond’s ass, while spasms of post-orgasmic pleasure ran up his spine. He made a big frothy mess of all that cum, which bubbled out and soaked into his slacks.
“Shit…”
“Damn, you okay?” Officer Savillano grunted. He was exhausted, disappointed that it was over — he had an instinctual and emotional urge to take Desmond out with him to go on a date, take him to a movie and a fancy restaurant, then ram him again in a cheap motel room.
But he couldn’t do that. Of course.
“I’m perfect….” Desmond moaned. The pressure in his ass was too intense to say anything else.
Then Officer Savillano pulled his cock out. “So… like… we still cool, right? You was like… into that?”
“So into it.”
“Good. Maybe, y’know… Maybe…” Officer Savillano was nervous like a schoolboy. “Maybe, like, we could… you know…”
“Do it again?”
“If you want!”
“You just let me know when, baby.” Desmond said breathlessly. He pulled his own pants up.
Officer Savillano was about to do the same, then realized that all of his cum had spilled onto the pants and underwear that were around his ankles. He groaned. “Oh. Can you go to my locker and get my spare pants?”
“Sure, baby.” Desmond paused. He opened the door to leave, but then didn’t go just yet. “Can I kiss you again?”
Savillano paused and sighed. There was light in the closet now, which made it more difficult to pretend he was kissing his wife. He hadn’t intended to kiss Desmond at all, and he certainly hadn’t intended to say he loved him.
But he didn’t want to be a jerk, and he didn’t mind the kiss earlier. He could just close his eyes. So he planted his lips right on Desmond’s, and their tongues interlocked. Desmond squealed and jumped up, wrapping his legs around Savillano’s bare chest again. His skin was slick with sweat.
Finally Desmond pulled away. “Thanks, big boy. I’ll be right back with clothes for you.”

Heat on rig

Most nights, Buck and Lem showered with each other. This was the winter contract, which was understaffed — more than half of the roughnecks here a couple days ago had left during their leave. Buck didn’t realize how many fewer workers there would be. That was because, Lem explained, the rig was less efficient in the winter, and Mr. Chow actually lost money pumping oil until it warmed up. He kept it going regardless because otherwise the rig would fall apart and be inoperable in the spring, but it continued with a skeleton crew mainly tasked with maintenance. The drill did run, and oil was pumped, but only the minimum needed every day to ensure smooth operation.
Otherwise it was a lot of cleaning, inventory, weatherproofing, organizing, etc. It was intensely boring and not much work. The chill was intense in the unheated corridors now that it was winter. Buck got a thrill out of walking to the shower every night, which he still did in his briefs and sandals (though he now wore his sandals with two pairs of socks). He thought it was hilarious how steamy his chest was, and it set his heart racing. Most night it was literally cold enough to take his breath away, and he could barely breathe the whole way to and from the shower.
Lem did not do that. He was leaner and lankier than Buck, and like the other roughnecks, Lem wore several layers of clothes in the corridors. So Buck got naked in the showers in seconds, while Lem lazily undressed and smoked a cigarette (which he did only to annoy Buck, because Buck kept hassling him about hurrying up).

From Buck the Roughneck