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 Worker

Robby is desperate for a job, so when he shows up for an interview, he’ll do whatever it takes to get it… even if Mr. Taggart has some interesting ideas on how to meet his needs. Can Robby perform under pressure?

Read it now as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Robby went to the house on Morning Street dressed to work. It was not a business address, it was a private house. Robby tried not to feel nervous about that. He brought along his old toolbelt and a toolbox with almost nothing in it, because he didn’t own very many tools. He read somewhere that you should dress for the job you want, not the job you have. But Robby didn’t have a job — he was an out-of-work carpenter — and the job he wanted was to be a stuntman in Hollywood — he couldn’t exactly wear a burn-suit to meet a potential client.
He liked calling the people who hired him his clients. It sounded highfalutin’. Robby was a general laborer, doing whatever he could to make a few dollars. He was always on the lookout for something he could do to earn money. His mechanical skills made him useful in a lot of situations, it was just hard to find folks — or sorry, clients.
So he had no idea who his client was, but he sounded like a blue-collar kind of guy on the phone, probably middle-aged or older. That was why Robby went dressed to work as a carpenter. He figured someone like that would want a sign that Robby was a serious worker, not a newbie trying to learn on the job, not a hobo wanting to get paid upfront so he could drink all day, a serious worker who came on the first day ready to do whatever needed to be done. That was the kind of worker Robby was.
Or at least the kind of worker he wanted to seem to be.
The client was some guy who said on the phone that he needed a deck built. He had the plans, the permits, the wood, the nails, and everything else that was needed. He just needed someone to do the work. Robby could do that work. He was a carpenter by trade, stuntman by lifelong goal.
Robby knocked on the door.
“Howdy, you must be Robby,” said Mr. Taggarxt, a thickly built middle-aged man with deep, dark eyes and a bristly mustache. He was very tanned, with remnants of perpetual sunburn on his nape and shoulders, and his craggy face was weathered like a soldier, which Robby suspected he was. He had the vibe of an ex-military man.
“Yep. Yes, sir. Hello,” Robby said. “Howdy.”
“Come on into the back, I’ll show you what it is,” Mr. Taggart said. “I got all the wood out back ready for you-“
“Oh sorry, is this… did you…?” Robby wanted to ask if he was hired, but he wasn’t sure if that would seem weak. Had Mr. Taggart already decided to hire him? He had definitely suggested on the phone that he was going to see some other laborers too.
Mr. Taggart screwed up his eyebrows at him. “You okay?”
“I, uh…” Robby didn’t want to suggest someone else might be hired for the gig. “I just wasn’t sure you wanted me to start today. But that’s no problem, I’d rather do it today. I need to make a payment this week.”
“A payment?”
Robby nodded. “I got this debt… It’s child support, honestly, lemme be totally honest wit’ you. I’m a good worker, for real, I just… I got these daughters, man, I ain’t even sure they’s mine, I swear,” he said. “Mother’s a fuckin’… Well, we don’t get along, and she always tellin’ the judge I make a shit-ton of money. Buncha lies and shit.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I gotta make a payment this week.” Robby blushed. He realized only now that talking about this stuff was probably not a good way to get hired for the gig — it didn’t make him sound stable or reliable. But it was too late now.
“I can understand that, yessuh,” Mr. Taggart said. “Go’n then.” He chewed on his lip, like he wasn’t really interested in Robby’s problems but was willing to listen to him talk about them. He opened the sliding glass door to the backyard and pointed to the wood.
He spent the next twenty minutes explaining exactly how this deck was supposed to go. Mr. Taggart was knowledgeable on carpentry, but he didn’t have the time to do it himself. That was inconvenient for Robby — someone who knew how to do it himself was likely to both pay less and complain if it wasn’t quite perfect. Those who didn’t know would accept any price offered, generally speaking, and they wouldn’t even know what to look for to decide if it was well-done.
Not that Robby was going to do a poor job. He was a good worker.
Despite Mr. Taggart’s gruff nature, he came across as fair. He offered an okay price, and he listened gamely when Robby tried to negotiate. He didn’t accept Robby’s counteroffer though, forcing Robby to embarrassedly agree to what Mr. Taggart had offered to begin with.
“Thank you, suh, and I promise I’ll do the best work I can, I swear to God. I’m a good worker, no kidding,” Robby said.
Mr. Taggart nodded like he didn’t really care. He was the kind of foreman who had a way of getting the work he needed from the men who worked for him. He would get it one way or another.
He left Robby to get started on his own. Robby liked that part. He really wished he could work like this and not worry about anything else. He could do the actual building, any kind of mechanical labor would be fine with him. He’d gladly work twelve hours a day if it came with a promise he’d get paid enough to live. It was all the other stuff, the showing up on time, the interviewing, the “probationary periods”, the police, drunk driving laws, safety regulations, all of that stuff made it difficult.
It felt right to work with his hands, to use his muscles to survive and build a deck. He liked seeing the pieces come together.
Of course, not that much actually came together today. It took almost all day to cut the wood to size. He got the posts in the ground for the foundation, and by then, he was exhausted. He was drenched with sweat, his dirty blond hair plastered to his forehead. His shoulders ached, and his thumb throbbed because he dropped a bunch of slats of wood onto it. He kept sucking on it, until he realized he would look like a baby sucking his thumb in Mr. Taggart’s eyes.
Most clients would have come out to check on him at some point, but Mr. Taggart never had. Robby came tentatively to the house and stepped in. He wasn’t sure if Mr. Taggart was the kind of guy who didn’t want his workers in the house more than necessary.
“Hey, uh, Mister Taggart?” Robby called out.
He heard movement down the hall and went that way. Was that moaning? It almost sounded like a woman moaning. Robby was just wondering if he was about to walk in on something when a bedroom door opened.
Mr. Taggart walked out. He left the door open, and the sounds of porn filled the air. A woman’s moaning voice was plainly audible, but it was clearly a recording, not a real woman. Robby blushed, but Mr. Taggart seemed nonchalant.
“You done for today?”
Robby nodded. “Yeah. I think I got pretty far today, you wanna see?”
“Nah. I’m busy now. I’ll look at it tomorrow,” Mr. Taggart said. He glanced into the bedroom. “Sorry. I’s just watchin’ a movie. You wanna see it wit’ me?”
Robby shrugged. He had no idea why he said yes. He hadn’t watched porno with another man in more than a decade — that just wasn’t a thing anymore, now that Internet porn was so common, he thought. Who even watched porno videos on a TV screen? But it was an alluring option. For one thing, it would help cement a relationship with Mr. Taggart. He might be more willing to hire Robby agaian.
This was clearly a VHS tape. That was obvious when Mr. Taggart fast-forwarded it. Robby blushed. Mr. Taggart has a VCR. Who has a VCR? Robby sat back on the bed, on one edge, while Mr. Taggart sat on the other side, then scooted close to the middle.
“You ain’t got no pro’lem beatin’ ya meat wit’ a man, huh?” Mr. Taggart said. He aimed his dick in Robby’s direction and have it one stroke. He chuckled throatily
Robby’s eyes opened wide. “I, uh…” He hadn’t thought they were going to circlejerk, but he kind of did want to do it. The idea held a certain allure to it — it would be exciting and grimy, and the punk-rock girl at the convenience store he had a crush on would think it was sexy.
So maybe, he thought, he should do it. It wasn’t too weird. They probably wouldn’t even touch. Probably.
Would they?
The porno movie was some sort of amateur underground thing. Did the women even realize they were being filmed? Robby got an uncomfortable feeling like they didn’t know. The man definitely knew, the mustachioed freak with the huge dick, he was angling his body so the camera could clearly see his cock where it slid between this one woman’s huge tits. He titty-fucked her, groaning and moaning for the camera’s benefit.
But Robby found it hard to pay consistent attention to the movie. Mr. Taggart’s body heat seemed to fill the bedspace, and Robby couldn’t bring himself to look directly at his dick, yet he couldn’t stop sneaking peeks in his periphery either.
Mr. Taggart flopped his giant dick out as though it was nothing, as though he did this every day. He didn’t drop his pants, just lowered them enough to take his cock out. Robby gulped. There was something about it that demanded he look at it. He couldn’t look right at it because he thought he’d look weird. He couldn’t look away either. He stared at it intently out of the corner of his eyes. That didn’t satisfy either itch — it still felt uncomfortably weird, and he still wanted to look at it straight on.
Was Mr. Taggart expecting him to stroke it?
But Mr. Taggart didn’t say so. He just watched the screen. He hadn’t even noticed that Robby hadn’t taken his own dick out yet. Mr. Taggart was deeply engrossed in the porno. The “college girls” on screen had a pillow fight in their dorm, and Mr. Taggart licked his teeth as the bras popped off and the pillows went flying.
Finally, when Robby was sure Mr. Taggart wasn’t watching, Robby did take his dick out. He was glad he had a big cock. He was sometimes embarrassed by how big it was. Once guys knew, they kept demanding he take it out.
Robby considered leaving. He could just go — he doubted Mr. Taggart would hire someone else instead. By the time he called more people in and found a new guy, Robby could have already finished the deck.
Mr. Taggart took off his shirt. He had a thicker body than Robby, and he was probably stronger. His skin was a rich ruddy tanned-brown, suggesting Mr. Taggart must tan shirtless often. Robby felt small in comparison to Mr. Taggart, but he was younger and had a six-pack, which helped even it out.
“Man, ain’t that chick hot?” Mr. Taggart asked.
“Uh-huh.” Robby had barely paid a lick of attention to the porno. He hadn’t even noticed that he was still totally limp while Mr. Taggart’s dick was rock-hard. He was going to look like a fool if he didn’t get hard.
“You havin’ trouble gettin’ hard? Huh? You wanna play around? I can get you hard.”
“Uh… I’ve never done anything like that,” Robby said. He blushed.
“Oh yeah?” Mr. Taggart asked with a throaty chuckle. “Ain’t gonna hurt. Just men doin’ what they gotta do. It’s always better to have another hand, ain’t it? Feels better than ya own.”
“I, uh… I dunno…” Robby sucked in his breath as Mr. Taggart reached over and gripped his dick. Robby hadn’t taken his shirt off, nor even lowered his pants any more than he needed to. Mr. Taggart’s shirt was off and his pants had migrated to his ankles.
Without taking his eyes off the porno, Mr. Taggart grabbed Robby’s cock and stroked it. Robby gasped.
The most surprising thing, he thought, was that it really did feel good. Mr. Taggart had been right. This did feel better than masturbating alone would have.
His dick quickly firmed up in Mr. Taggart’s hand. Robby had his eyes closed, so he didn’t see it when Mr. Taggart came closer to him, not until he felt Mr. Taggart’s body heat. Then Mr. Taggart grabbed his hand and brought it to his own cock.
“Aaaaah…” Mr. Taggart moaned into his ear. “Ain’t that good, son?”
“Yeah…” Robby had to admit it was good. His own cock felt better than it had last time he had actual sex, and not much had even happened. His own cock felt so good he didn’t pay much attention to his own left hand on Mr. Taggart’s dick.
It was very thick, impossibly so, Robby was shocked by that. It felt fleshier too, like there was tons of loose skin and extra meat in the shaft. He rubbed his hand up and down but that reminded him of what he was doing.
So Robby stopped moving. Mr. Taggart, however, kept jacking him off and pumped his hips in sync with his hand. That way Robby could just grip his hand and Mr. Taggart humped his grip. It barely even felt like he was giving a handjob. His cock throbbed and pulsated.
“You ready, son?” Mr. Taggart murmured. “You gonna feel real good today.”
“Yeah…” Robby winced. What was he agreeing to? He didn’t know, but he wanted it to happen. He was desperate to get his rocks off. No girl had made him feel like this in a long time.
Mr. Taggart knelt down and popped Robby’s dick in his mouth. It wasn’t romantic or sweet, Robby thought, he did it like it was his job. Moist warmth suffused into Robby’s body through his shaft. He moaned too after a few seconds, like he was so nervous about this that there was a brief delay before he actually felt Mr. Taggart’s lips close around his shaft.
But then felt it better than it had any right to. Definitely no woman could ever swallow dick like this.
For one thing, Mr. Taggart was bigger than most women, with a deeper and more cavernous throat, meaning he could simply swallow way more cock. Robby’s eyes bugged out, and he gripped Mr. Taggart’s roughly-trimmed hair. His hands dug into Mr. Taggart’s scalp.
He didn’t plow into his throat though, despite Robby’s instinct to do precisely that. He wasn’t sure Mr. Taggart would be okay with it for one thing, and even more importantly, Mr. Taggart was already swallowing him to the root. There was no need to throat him down. Mr. Taggart’s nose rammed into Robby’s crotch.
“Ah, god — oh — oh shit, damn — I mean — Ooooooohhh…” Robby wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do.
His hands flailed above Mr. Taggart’s head, then gripped his scalp again. Then he wasn’t sure Mr. Taggart liked that and stopped. This time, Mr. Taggart grabbed his hand, still without pulling off his dick. He led Robby’s hands back down to his crotch.
Robby gulped and gripped Mr. Taggart’s cock. Mr. Taggart was curled up, so he could swallow Robby’s dick with his upper half ensconced next to his Robby’s body. That meant Robby could easily reach over Mr. Taggart’s body to his rod.
It was rock-hard, precum glistening on the tip. It leaked goop onto Robby’s fingers.
“Shit…”?
He didn’t know why he had been so nervous about this. Mr. Taggart was weird — and his masculine body smelled like Robby’s father — but his mouth felt good on Robby’s cock. Robby couldn’t hold back his orgasm.
But Mr. Taggart didn’t let him cum just yet. Just when Robby was about to blow his wad, he got up and pulled his mouth from Robby’s dick. Robby gasped and for a moment tried to drag Mr. Taggart’s face back to his shaft.
“Gonna sit on ya dick, son, that okay? Jack me off, okay?”
“What? Uh… No way, I dunno…,” Robby said without giving it a second thought. He was nervous, but after having let Mr. Taggart jack him off, he didn’t see any reason to refuse to plow.
Not many girls let him do it in the butt on account of that huge cock — and his penchant for not showering sometimes — but Robby loved it when he did. He had never really thought about cornholing a man instead. It seemed like a reasonable idea now — ignoring all the societal ramifications, he thought, an ass was just an ass. Mr. Taggart had a thick, wide ass like Robby loved.
He sat on Robby’s dick. That was a position that Robby had never tried. His cock was too big for any girl to want that. Robby gulped when it started, his confidence wavering, because this position reminded him how big Mr. Taggart was.
He was thickly built, his muscles flexing as he squatted above Robby’s body. His smooth chest gleamed with sweat, the smell of which had filled the bedroom. Robby no longer noticed it like he had when he first came in and thought Mr. Taggart smelled like his dad. He sure didn’t smell like that now.
He smelled like funk now, and Robby liked it.
Mr. Taggart bit his lip and sunk down lower on Robby’s dick. Robby gasped and lifted his upper body up. He jacked on his breath. Again, just like when they had started jacking off together, Robby couldn’t bring himself to look away from Mr. Taggart’s dick.
It was half-hard now, his erection having diminished as he eased onto Robby’s dick. Now it flopped up and down. It looked huge and meaty. It twitched when Robby looked at it.
He gripped it and gave it a stroke. It was wet with precum, and it was slippery in Robby’s hand. He gulped. He had never thought he could be talked into doing this — the weird thing was: He hadn’t even needed to be talked into it. He had wanted to do it, in a way. As soon as the opportunity presented itself, Robby couldn’t wait to see what it was like.
As Mr. Taggart began rising and falling on his dick, Robby again managed to almost forget he was jacking a man off. Even though he couldn’t look away, he still managed to think about the pleasure in his cock instead of that. But every time it twitched, or Mr. Taggart let out a moan, Robby was again aware of its veiny, iron-like shaft throbbing in his fingers. It was slick now with precum and sticky as hell. Some of it dripped onto Robby’s chest.
“Ah, yeah, stick it in me…”
He knew he was going to get cum on him. He couldn’t decide if he should be grossed out or not. He was glad he hadn’t swallowed Mr. Taggart’s dick or taken it up the ass — that was the rule he had set, and he had lived up to it. But getting cummed on was kind of a gray area, wasn’t it?
Robby hadn’t made a decision yet when it was rendered irrelevant by his own orgasm. It felt so good he couldn’t bring himself to care about anything else. Mr. Taggart’s ass clenched down on Robby’s cock, as he sunk all the way on it. It pulsated against Mr. Taggart’s prostate.
“Damn son, you hump nice….” Mr. Taggart let out a long, cringing moan.
For some reason the low vibrato of his voice was enough to send Robby over the edge. A few drops of cum sprayed into Mr. Taggart’s ass, then more and more. Robby felt it flow and wondered how it could be so much — he’d never shot a load like this. He writhed so intensely he wondered if he looked like a wuss — this felt rather like the first time he’d been with a woman, and had never felt anything so incredible.
He bit his lip and grunted. “Shit, man!” He gripped Mr. Taggart’s hips with both hands and drilled his dick in, grinding it deeply into Mr. Taggart’s body.
Mr. Taggart was expecting that — men who gave him a reacharound usually ended up stopping right as they both orgasmed, which was the worst time to stop from Mr. Taggart’s perspective.
But he was ready so he didn’t get blue-balled. He gripped his own dick and brought himself to orgasm in seconds. An explosion of pleasure erupted in both men. Robby let out a plaintive howl of desire, as his cock throbbed like a beast’s heart. Mr. Taggart groaned like a beast of burden caught in mud, and he threw his head back far. His powerful muscles all rippled and flexed.
A torrent of creamy cum shot out and over Robby’s chest and neck. Some of it splashed on his chin, but Robby’s eyes were closed and he was busy squirming with the intense pleasure shooting through him, so he didn’t notice. He just grunted and sucked on his teeth again.
Finally they were both done. Mr. Taggart remained deeply impaled on Robby’s dick until he had taken in every drop of cum, and squeezed out every drop of his own, each pearly drop dripping from Mr. Taggart’s callused fingers to Robby’s hair-dappled belly.
“Shit, son… Hell yeah,” Mr. Taggart said. He throatily chuckled. He massaged Robby’s chest muscles, smearing his own cum all over it.
Robby didn’t open his eyes until Mr. Taggart finally pulled off his dick, which fell limply against his thigh. Robby sucked in his breath as he watched Mr. Taggart lean down and lick his chest clean. He swallowed up all that cum he had spilled, slurping it noisily, making Robby gag just from the sound alone though he was glad to get the cum off his chest — he decided he wouldn’t tell anyone about that part and he definitely wouldn’t mention that he could taste salty cum on his lips too. Some of it must have splashed up there from his chin.
Finally Mr. Taggart pulled away from him, and Robby slipped off the bed, pleasure still coursing through his veins. He blushed and looked down. “I, uh… I… That was pretty good.” Robby heaved for breath. Now that that was over, he was much more tired than he thought he’d be. The adrenaline drained away, and all that was left as an intense need to lay his head.
Mr. Taggart snorted. “I know.” He reached over to open his nightstand drawer. “How much of a child support payment you got due?”
“Uh… Six hundred dollars.”
Mr. Taggart whistled. “Goddamn, son.” He handed over six crisp one-hundred dollar bills, then placed the stack of more money back in the drawer. He nodded at Robby. “Don’t think you can come back later and rob me just cuz you see my cash, son-“
“I wouldn’t! I swear!” Robby opened his wide. “Promise. No way. I’m not like that.”
“I got security you can only dream of,” he said. He smiled, flopping his limp dick between his fingers. He squeezed out a few drops of cum that he smeared over his shaft. “But if you gots more payments due next month, come see me again. I just might have more work for you.”
“Yessuh,” Robby said. He held back a smile because he didn’t want to seem too eager. That might come across as weird.
“Go’n now, get outta here. I’ll see you tomorrow mornin’, ready to work.”
“Yes, sir,” Robby said. “I’ll be here.”

The Cricketer

Rob is in England when he spies an amateur cricketer who needs some quid. He is Ranuga, and he’s desperate for dosh. That just happens to be a situation Rob can help with!

Read it now as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Rob had one day to kill in Britain before he returned to Asia. He had a first-class plane ticket to Indonesia, and he eagerly awaited the departure. He’d had enough of the dreary monotony of England. Everything here was gray and bland: the food, the weather, the flowers somehow, it was all a vast wash of nothing.
The fields in the park near his hotel had been empty since Rob got here. It looked like a place they’d hold sporting events sometimes, but he saw no signs of that on previous days aside from lots of garbage. He hadn’t spent much time at the hotel, so it was possible something was going on there earlier. He was in Britain just to see a concert by his favorite band, the Monkeysmashers, so he hadn’t paid much attention to anything else.
When he left his hotel to find something to do on his last day in Britain, however, he saw people in the field. The little parking lot attached to it was full of cars.
Is that a park? Rob walked over there. He was trying to walk more, so this was a good plan, he thought. He’d go to the park. You never knew, he thought, he might meet someone.
It turned out to be an amateur cricket game. Or maybe just semi-amateur, maybe league play? Or was it a practice? Rob did not understand cricket enough to know. There was only a small audience, so maybe practice. Or a very unsuccessful league.
That strip of dirt down the middle was the cricket pitch. Rob was fascinated by it — he had never watched cricket, and as he approached, he overheard people express shock that a batsman had hit the ball to “cow’s corner”, which Rob thought was hilarious. It turned out to be a portion of the field that rarely received hits (so cows were free to graze there unmolested).
Rob had only stood there for a moment before he heard a loud engine roaring behind him. He — and the other fans, who appeared to be one small group of loud men shouting “oi!” at everything, and a bunch of women who were presumably the players’ girlfriends — turned to look at the car park.
It was a tow-truck, or a “recovery vehicle” as they called it here. It was a rusty brutalist conglomeration of winches and wheels, and a burly scally in a reflective vest hopped out to get it moving right away. In seconds, he had hooked up a ramshackle old Skoda, which was green like a depressed lime.
“Ranuga! Ranuga! They’re towing your car, mate!”
This was a repo man, Rob thought, or whatever the British word for that was. The tow-truck driver was in a hurry because he wanted to repossess the car before he was seen. Rob stepped aside. This seemed like a potential fight in the making. Or a scrap in the offing, however, they say that here.
A player from the team on the far side of the field sprinted through the game, which stopped as everyone turned to gawk. He shouted in what Rob first thought was a South Asian language — because the coach was either Indian or, Rob suspected as he got closer, Sri Lankan. But it was English, it turned out, just garbled and containing so many jumbled up obscenities and insults — even some rhyming slang — that Rob couldn’t decipher it.
He was Ranuga, and he had a rugged face with a dashing black beard peppered with salt. Rob stopped listening or paying much attention to anything except Ranuga. He was short but broad-shouldered and powerfully built, muscles rippling through the cricket whites he wore. His beard was a scruffy, curly explosion of pure jet hair, matted to his head with sweat. His skin was almost as dark, so the gray dapples in his beard stood out like a sun in the night.
“Hmmm…” Rob moaned to himself. He didn’t mean to do it out loud, but the women near him gave him an odd look. He smiled at them and headed out to the car park.
“You bloody wankeh! I told someone — Marianne, I think, her name was Marianne, in you’h bloody office! She said I could send a payment by the end of the week!”
“You still can, mate,” said the recovery-vehicle driver with a bored look on his face.
“No, no, you can’t take my car. I need that. I have to go to work, I have to drive — I need to drive, I have to, I have to-“
“You can take it up with your financing company,” the recovery-vehicle driver said. He was one of those jaw-heavy Brits who constantly chews on his lower lip. His jaw was working mad as he talked and then even moreso when he was quiet. “But I’m taking the vehicle.”
“I will fight you, I will-” the cricketer Ranuga said. His handsome face flashed and twinkled, and you could see in the solid sterling of his mug that he would have dropped to his knees to beg if he thought that would work. But he wasn’t gonna debase himself in front of the other cricketers unless he was sure he’d get something out of it.
And the recovery-vehicle driver was stone-facing. No mercy forthcame, and the two faced off. Ranuga had nothing more to say, and the driver couldn’t leave without turning his back on Ranuga. So they squared off with hostile mugs neither could come down from.
“Excuse me, excuse me,” Rob said. He came between them and faced Ranuga. He was suddenly stricken with desire. He paused, mouth agape.
“Uh… Yes? Mate?” Ranuga scowled. Then he shoved Rob out of the way.
His firm hands gripped Rob’s arm and pushed. Rob blushed. Ranuga took off his sweatshirt, making the assembled team laugh — Ranuga wore a sleeveless tee (or “vest”, as they would call it here) and flexed his biceps. His team laughed because he was “old” — at forty-two, he was hardly ancient, but he had a prematurely graying beard and the players were about nineteen on average, so he might as well have been Methuselah from their perspective.
Ranuga didn’t care. He was pissed. He had delicately arranged his finances so he could pay all his bills this month. But that wasn’t going to be possible until Friday. Marianne had told him that he could wait until then.
This, he thought, was ridiculous.
So a part of him thought taking off his kit and intimidating the tow-truck driver might have worked. Ranuga was in great shape, with a thick chest and arms like a stevedore. Rob licked his lips at the sight. His chest was covered in a mat of black hair except for a silver streak running down the center, over his sternum. Ranuga’s biceps bulged and ran with sweat despite the bleak chill of the London afternoon.
But the tow-truck driver was not so easily intimidated. He ignored Ranuga’s flexing and sputtering.
Ranuga’s hair was marvelously dense. Rob loved a hairy man. He blushed even though no one was looking at him. The teams were even going home. Ranuga’s red-faced rage concealed his embarrassment. He didn’t want his team to know he had money trouble.
“Uh, sorry, excuse me-“
“You yankee bell-end, wo the fuck do you want?” Ranuga said as he watched his car roll up the back of the tow-truck. He had his hands on the sides of his head, scratching his temple. His voice had a dense London accent, and he spoke like his mouth was full of sandpaper.
Rob came closer. “I can help.”
Ranuga blinked a few times. “Wot?”
“I can help you. With money. I don’t want you to be without a car. I’m sure-“
“Wot?”
“Can you come with me to my hotel room? I want to ask you something,” Rob said. He got closer, so Ranuga could hear him without the others listening in. The onlookers and players had mostly dispersed, but some still milled about, holding bats and balls — Ranuga was supposed to take all that kit home with him to store for the next game.
He was supposed to take that kit home in his car.
So no one knew what to do with it now. They watched Ranuga talk with the young American man — Rob — with a flamboyant lilt to his step. The recovery-vehicle driver glared as though Rob was doing something wrong by helping Ranuga with his bills.
“How much will you need?”
“For what? The car? To get current with payments…? Like six hundred pounds,” Ranuga said. He groaned and closed his eyes. He hadn’t said that out loud before. He was madly in debt. He slapped his hands over his cheeks and stroked that dense beard.
“I can do that. I’ll give you the cash,” Rob said. “If you take me back to my hotel and ram me senseless.”
There was a long pause. Rob blushed, and Ranuga did too, though his was hidden by his beard, which he scratched. He shifted his weight between his feet. It took a few seconds before he raised his eyebrows like he was just now processing what Rob said.
“Aaaaah… Aaah. Oh.”
“I promise I won’t make you do anything you don’t wanna do. I wanna jerk you off and-“
“Fine. Deal. Fine.” Ranuga crossed his arms over his chest. Now he felt self-conscious in his vest. He wished he hadn’t taken off the shirt. He glowered, but inside he was exulting — getting current on his car payments would be amazing. That would put him ahead of the game. Ranuga looked to another player, Zaran, and yelled for him. “Oi! Put that stuff in your car and take it to your garage-“
“You do it-!” Zaran yelled back.
They both instantly erupted in shouting. Zaran was handsome too. He was lankier than Ranuga, and he had a charming set of dimples. He was like a zippy little hedgehog, running around the parking lot and playing some kind of prank — taking the piss out of — the other cricketers. It seemed they had all forgotten about Ranuga going off with the stranger. Ranuga obviously liked it that, and he didn’t mention it to anyone as he got work picking up after the match.
Zaran was cute, but he wasn’t as handsome as Ranuga. Ranuga had handsomeness in spades. He’d probably do better with women if he tempered his handsomeness with some cuteness, Rob thought, he was a little too handsome, like his only possible role in a movie would be ‘arrogant prince’. He was stressed due to the debt situation, as he hustled and bustled with Zaran, his muscular shoulders worked hard and stretched the fabric of his shirt. Eventually Zaran agreed, and he loaded up the gear in his car.
By then the other cricketers had all gone too. Ranuga swaggered away from the field and the car park. He didn’t wait to see if Rob followed. He was sure he would face lots of questions next week when he had a car and no American weirdo following him around.
Maybe, he thought, I should tell everyone he’s my bookie. It’s just embarrassing enough to be believable. I could say I won a couple quid on a bet and got my car back on Friday. Nobody can prove that didn’t happen.
“Is you into Sri Lankan blokes, mate?” Ranuga asked as they got near the seedy hotel. He had only just realized how odd this situation was — he had been so focused on getting paid that he didn’t think about this: Why had an American stranger come after him?
Rob opened the door to his room and let Ranuga in. He smiled. “I just admire the male physique.”
“Not Sri Lankans?”
Rob shook his head. “I didn’t know you were Sri Lankan. I would have guessed like Malaysian or something.”
“Malaysian?! Wot!” He scowled and wagged his finger at Rob. “Don’tyoo even say that.” He glared at Rob, who nodded and looked down. Ranuga stroked the beard. “You’re weird as.”
“I know…” Rob blushed. He shut the door, and Ranuga flopped onto the bed.
He wore a pair of track pants which he was about to rip off unceremoniously. Ranuga had never done anything like this before, so he felt a need to hide that fact — he wanted to look like an old hat at it. But he also didn’t want to look like some kinda trashy rentboy.
“Wait,” Rob said. “Let me take your pants off.” He crawled up on the bed, mounting Ranuga’s legs. He had on filthy old dark-blue track pants with a white stripe up the side. They smelled strongly of manhood and grass, and a bit of leather. Rob inhaled the intense scent as he massaged Ranuga’s legs.
Ranuga bristled. He had never been treated like this — most women wanted him to shower and wear nice clothes only to take them off. Rob seemed to want to worship his sweaty track pants, and he even nuzzled his nose within the salt-stained crotch. He inhaled loudly and passionately, full-throatedly savoring the scent and the moisture he flicked up with his tongue.
His forehead bumped against the pouch within Ranuga’s tight boxers, which cradled his heavy cock and balls. He was about to take off that sleeveless vest too, to bare his chest, but Rob stopped him.
He wanted to do it. Rob dove beneath the sleeveless shirt — an A-shirt, rather like what Americans called a “wifebeater” — and inhaled the stale sweat that had collected there. That tee shirt was utterly disgusting, Rob thought with a desirous giggle. It smelled like it hadn’t been washed in weeks.
More like months. Ranuga never washed the shirt because it was good luck. It had seemed like good luck ever since he wore it a couple times in a row when he won a game.
When he came to Britain, his teammates thought it was funny; they intimated it was a Buddhist tradition, that he had had the shirt blessed in a temple and now didn’t wash it in order to keep the blessing. That wasn’t true, but Ranuga had stopped disputing it.
He just didn’t wash it because he had worried it would interrupt his win streak back some twenty years ago, he thought as Rob squirmed and licked all of his unwashed flesh beneath the shirt. He eventually lost a game, so the win streak was interrupted anyway, but he couldn’t help but feel the shirt was good luck anyway. He washed it once then, again a bit later, and a girlfriend had washed it unknowingly once, and then he had washed it again somewhat more recently.
But still, it reeked of his manhood because it became utterly soaked, sopping wet with his spicy sweat every weekend, and he hadn’t washed it in two years. He felt right putting it on.
Now he was embarrassed. Was his stink what had attracted Rob to him?
While Rob appreciated a natural man’s musk, what he really loved — besides the adorable beard — was that chest. Ranuga had a dense mat of black hair over his powerful muscles, which were as black as night. He had darker skin than Rob even thought possible.
Rob’s tongue flickered through the hair that covered Ranuga’s broad chest, and his hands slowly worked the shirt up. His pecs were firm, his abs rippling when he sneered at Rob. His shirt raised slowly, and Ranuga’s frustration drained away while Rob slurped up the filth clinging to his chest hair, then his armpit hair. When the shirt was close enough to Ranuga’s nose to make it impossible for him to ignore the scent, Ranuga snarled in frustration and took the shirt off completely. He tossed it on the floor.
“You take forever, mate,” Ranuga said with a grunt. He was starting to get hard and wanted to finish this off quickly. Plus he didn’t want it to be obvious he had gotten hard before Rob touched his cock directly — it would look too freaky to get hard now. But Ranuga loved nippleplay.
So he lifted his ass and again removed his own trackpants. Rob took them from him and did it instead. He pulled them and his boxers down in one smooth motion, revealing a big brown uncut cock, already throbbing and stiffly floppy, just beginning to get hard. It was uncut, thick as a bottle of cider.
“Hmmmm…” Rob smiled and got down to business. He put the entire thing in his mouth at once, since it was obvious Ranuga didn’t want to dilly-dally. He tasted spicy with a peppery, grassy taste, like licking a lawnmower covered in salt, Rob thought. It made his lips pucker and his throat clench around Ranuga’s shaft.
A jolt of pleasure visibly wracked Ranuga’s cock, which twitched. Ranuga sucked in his breath. “Damn! Blood ‘ell, mate…” he murmured. He lifted his ass as though to stand, but he only leaned forward, pushing his meat deeper into Rob’s throat. That triggered a potent gag that exploded from deep within Rob, who choked out a wad of saliva that ran down Ranuga’s shaft and wetted his silky bush.
But he kept on it. That cock quickly firmed up until it was as hard as his thighs, which were like tree-trunks. Rob gripped them and produced as much spit on Ranuga’s cock as he could. He slurped his spit right back up and spat it out to run down Ranuga’s shaft to his balls.
“Ah, bloody ‘ell, oh fuck…” Ranuga’s voice became deeper as Rob’s mouth moved down his shaft, and then to his sac.
Just like the rest of his body, Ranuga’s crotch was very hairy, and his balls initially looked disappointingly small. But that was only because they were buried in his unkempt nest of pubic hair, and when Rob started slurping and slathering spit all over them, his hair became matted and those full, luscious balls filled Rob’s mouth.
“You wanna ram me?” Rob asked with a sultry giggle when Ranuga’s eyes opened wide.
Ranuga nodded and blushed again, his face now a blackish-red beneath his beard. He put his hands behind his head and closed his eyes.
So Rob mounted his body, using his hairy chest for support — which made his muscles ripple beneath Rob’s fingers — as he sat his ass down on Ranuga’s cock. There was a brief burst of pain before Rob’s ass loosened up enough to accommodate every inch of Ranuga’s throbbing member. The pain was replaced with a wave of pleasure when Ranuga’s knob hit his prostate. Rob threw his head back and begged for more.
His eyes opened when his dick slid in. Ranuga had never done it up behind, not even with a woman, so he was astonished at how easily it happened. This was all going down so quickly, he thought. He kept his hands behind his head because he didn’t want to accidentally touch Rob’s cock — and he felt sure if he didn’t move his hands out of the way, he would instinctively reach for Rob’s breasts, which of course he didn’t have.
Ranuga did piston his hips up and down once he got started, and he groaned loudly. He tried to muffle the sound out of concern someone would hear what was going on in here, but he couldn’t help himself. Shivers of pleasure ran up his spine and made it hard to think about anything else.
“Oh holy shit, mate,” Ranuga said, his voice soft but so loud and baritone for the moment that it resonated in Rob’s ears. Ranuga found his hands moving of their own accord, away from his head and to Rob’s ass.
He gripped Rob’s bare cheeks with a sense of wonder — he couldn’t believe he was doing it, touching a man’s bare ass as his cock slid into it.
And he was enjoying it! He had thought, before this began, that he would just lay here and let Rob service him. He pictured himself thinking about other things, maybe even getting drunk first. But that hadn’t happened, and he couldn’t think about other things because this felt too good. A wave of pleasure fell over him, making Ranuga gurgle and murmur, hands turning into fists that clawed at the air in front of him.
It felt better than any woman. He held onto Rob’s ass and lifted himself up. His angle was awkward, and he only used his elbows, not his hands, so it took every muscle in his great hairy body.
But soon he was crouched on the bed, Rob bent way over in front of him with his ass high. That was the perfect angle to ram in and out with all his might, sending waves of pleasure through him and also stimulating Rob’s prostate — not that Ranuga knew that.
So Rob reached his orgasm even before Ranuga. “Oh bloody ‘ell, stick it in me, Ranuga! Stick it in me!” He cried out into the blanket on top of the bed, and his hands gripped the cloth tightly. When he finally touched his cock, a jolt of unspeakable bliss wracked his body so hard it hurt, and his ass clenched.
Cum sprayed over his hand and onto the blanket, covering the bed with his spooge. It was good that Ranuga was about to cum, because within a few seconds it smelled so strongly of semen in here that Ranuga would have had trouble staying hard — he very strongly disliked that smell.
His white beard hairs quivered as Ranuga moaned and pressed down on Rob’s back. He grunted. His hot breath condensed on the back of Rob’s neck.
Then, at last, cum flowed into him. There was a great river of it, more and more continuing to flow, while Ranuga threw his head back and howled. He no longer cared about getting caught or about his teammates thinking he was poor.
There was nothing he could do about that stuff. This asshole, he thought, was something he could handle.
He grimaced, veins throbbing against the skin of his neck. He couldn’t believe how good that had been or how long it had taken — and he even got paid for it! He licked his lips.
Then Ranuga withdrew, his limpening dick sliding out and making Rob shudder with remnants of his climax.
Ranuga took a deep breath. “You better pay me. Six hundred pounds.”
“I will,” Rob said. He reached for the trousers he had dropped on the floor. But he was too tired, his legs and ass sore, to get down and pick up the wallet in the pocket. “You can get all the cash out of there. It’s like six hundred and ten pounds.”
Ranuga didn’t want to look desperate, so he nonchalantly picked up the trousers and found the wallet. His sticky cock was stuck to his thigh. Rob watched the moisture sparkle and evaporate on it.
He was glad to see the money was there. It was actually six hundred and thirteen pounds. A bonus, Ranuga thought as he pocketed it. “If anyone asks, you’re my bookie.”
Rob shrugged. “Fine. I won’t tell anyone anything though. I practice discretion, and I’m going to Indonesia tomorrow.”
Ranuga was relieved. He felt Rob’s eyes peering over him as he put his clothes back on. He was sweaty — and of course that tee shirt was even sweatier — which made him self-conscious. But he couldn’t hardly deny doing the same thing when his girlfriends dressed in front of him. He wondered if they felt the same way about it.
He did turn and wave his dick at Rob’s face before tucking it away. He smirked and took a deep breath. “Thanks,” he said. “I needed that.”
“Me too,” Rob said as Ranuga walked out the door, trying to be unobtrusive in case any of his players were around. Rob just leaned back and sprawled out on the bed, which still had the spicy Sri Lankan flavor of Ranuga’s mansweat.
He was beginning to appreciate the sport of cricket.

The Stud

When a Santa comes by to entertain at a party, Avery assumed he’d be busy all night. But a need for a clean shirt brings this Santa entertainer to Avery’s den, where this stud just might let Avery take a swing on his jolly meat. Can Avery handle his alpha male manhood?

Read it now as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here

Avery loved his nieces. They were beautiful little girls, and he wanted to spend as much time with them as possible.
But he did not want to attend their Christmas party. It sounded boring, and not only that, but since Avery was a cool, funny, outgoing uncle, his nieces would mob him, demanding he do silly voices and give them piggyback rides as soon as he got there.
It was, unfortunately, difficult to avoid because Avery lived above the garage at the same house as his sister, her husband and their three daughters. So he was invited, and he heard the little girls running around excitedly with their friends (the idea of spending time with more than a dozen little girls sounded exhausting, just thinking about it made Avery want to take a nap).
That was, after all, the nice thing about not having kids — you didn’t have to spend time with them when you didn’t feel like it. Today was definitely a day when Avery didn’t feel like it.
But it would be rude not to go at all. It was the day before Christmas Eve after all. He needed to make an appearance. He decided to bring his Christmas presents for the girls. They were all wrapped and ready to go, so he could put them under the tree and his nieces would forget that he wasn’t at the party — the only thing they would remember was that Uncle Avery had brought them their presents.
He was just about to head down there when he saw a ramshackle Chevrolet pull up outside. It was powder blue but speckled with gray flecks and the passenger-side door had been replaced with a red one from a different car. A man in a Santa costume got out and headed for the door. He walked with a swagger-heavy gait, but he stopped and steeled himself before knocking on the door. He plastered a jolly smile on his face.
Avery put his presents down. He didn’t want to compete for attention with a Santa. He scoffed — when his sister first got pregnant, she said that she was not going to fritter away money on nonsense, and here she was throwing a child’s Christmas party (which isn’t even a tradition) and hire a Santa for it, when they could just go to the mall and do the same thing for nearly free. Sounds like money frittered away on nonsense to me. But then, Avery’s sister had also sworn that she wouldn’t buy her daughters “girls’s toys”, and that lasted until her eldest daughter was old enough to ask for specific toys. Avery’s sister had sworn she wouldn’t let them wear makeup until they were sixteen, and they started playing with makeup last year, when the youngest was only eight.
Not that Avery really cared about any of these things, he just thought it was funny that his big tough sister’s resolve failed when her daughters batted their eyelashes and asked nicely. She never could tell them no.
Eventually Avery stopped hearing the Santa’s ho-ho-ho — whoever it was, he had a great deep booming Santa-voice — and heard the now-familiar tune of the Frozen soundtrack.
Let it go, let it go. Wish they could let Frozen go.
He went downstairs and headed over to the main house. That must mean the Santa was done. Avery hadn’t seen him leave yet and his car was still out front, but the Santa show seemed to be finished. Avery could hang out with the adults until the movie was over, then make a big deal of bringing the girls’s presents to the tree. It wouldn’t take very long, and he’d look awesome in front of his nieces.
Avery’s sister and a few other moms were in the kitchen. He came through to say hello. The girls sang along to the movie in the other room. Santa was nowhere to be seen. Avery wanted to find out if his physique was as grand as it had seemed from the window. It was hard to be sure given the fat suit and the distance.
“Oh, hi, Avery, merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas!”
“Happy holidays!”
Groans emanated from some of the other moms. Avery wasn’t interested in quibbling over “holidays” vs “Christmas”, so he just smiled and nodded and small-talked with them until he thought he had done enough. Nobody really was interested in him anyway. Uncle Avery was not the star of Christmas, Santa was.
“What happened to Santa?”
“Oh, the girls got a little over-excited. There was some throw-up,” Avery’s sister said with a wry smile. “He’s taking a shower.”
“A merry, jolly North Pole shower!?”
“No, a normal shower in our bathroom,” she said. The other moms giggled. “I think he might need some men’s clothes, something to wear under the Santa suit. Probably just a t-shirt or something. Do you have anything? You know… that might fit him?” She was a little awkward because her tremendously overweight husband was in the next room, watching football. He pretended he wasn’t sensitive about his weight, but he was.
“Your husband’s clothes…? I just thought… You know… Santa?” Avery pantomimed a large belly.
“Oh no, this Santa’s not fat. He’s got a fatsuit on,” said one of the other moms. “I think he might be… He’s a well-formed young man.” The women all giggled, the same sound their daughters were generating in the next room.
He went upstairs and knocked on the bathroom door. The shower was running, so he opened the door just a crack. “Hey, uh, I live above the garage, man, do you need some clothes?! I can give you some of mine if you need it!”
The shower turned off. “What?” A man’s face appeared poking through the shower curtain.
“Oh, hi, I’m Avery…” His voice trailed off because this Santa was more handsome than he had any right to be. He had a thick shock of black hair, a square jaw and deep, dark eyes, and broad shoulders partially visible around the shower curtain. He looks like the hero on the cover of a fantasy novel, Avery thought to himself. He sent a shiver up Avery’s spine. The man — the Santa — was sturdy like a mountain, with big lips and skin the color of vanilla ice cream on his bare chest, which was untanned.
“Uh… Hi, Avery,” he said. “I’m Jeff.”
“Hi.” Avery blushed. “Uh… My sister said you got thrown up on? Did you need some clothes? They uh… They said you might fit in my clothes, but… They don’t know men’s sizes I guess. What are you, like six and a half feet tall?”
“Almost.” He smiled, flashing deep dimples. “I’m six-four.”
“Cool. Cool.” Avery blushed even deeper. “Sorry, I, uh… Did you want to come look at my clothes? I might have something that fits you.”
“Uh, yeah, thanks, I really just need a t-shirt. That fat suit is uncomfortable without a shirt on underneath, and my shirt is vomity. I just need something I can get on, you know, it doesn’t have to fit right.”
“Okay, well, come on over to the garage then,” Avery said. “I’ll go see what the biggest shirt I have is.”
He felt giddy as he hurried out to the garage again. He was beginning to think that Santa was a potential conquest.
He knew exactly what his biggest t-shirt was, because a different conquest had left it here after a July 4 party. The fireworks man had left his sweaty t-shirt here. It was about four sizes too big for Avery. It would probably be a bit big for Jeff too, but not cavernously large like Avery’s brother-in-law’s shirts would be. Avery hid it at the bottom of his dresser drawer so he wouldn’t accidentally “find” it before he had a chance to work on Jeff.
There was a knock at the door. Avery let Jeff in, his jaw agape — Jeff wore dingy old basketball shorts, sneakers and little else, aside from a dog tag. There was a military-looking tattoo on his bicep as well, a bald eagle flying with a rifle in its talons. His chest was broad and strapping, with well-worked muscles that you could tell didn’t come from a gym.
“Oh, are you a soldier?”
“Not anymore. I’m a vet. I got out of the Army last year,” he said.
“And now you bring presents to all the children at Christmas? That’s super,” Avery said. He started to make a show of looking through his own shirts, all of which were way too small for Jeff’s broad shoulders and chest.
He smiled. “I’m actually… Don’t tell your sister this, some people don’t like the idea of children’s entertainers who are… well, I’m a stripper,” he said. “That’s what I was doing until Christmas. Still am, but Santa gigs pay better now, and anyway I can do kids parties during the day and still strip at night.”
“Oh, that is so cool! You have a great body, you should be a stripper! I’d have suggested it if you didn’t say it!”
He grinned wanly. “Yeah, well… so if you know anyone who, uh… They don’t gotta be ladies.” He grimaced and blushed.
“Oh? What does that mean?”
“I mean, I do dude parties, if you want. I’m not… I can tell you prolly don’t spend a lotta time with women. You might know some guys who would hire me, y’know, at a party… Well, I rub my dick on guys’s faces, that’s you know, pretty much, if they want that. I don’t do any of, you know… the… I dance. I’m a good dancer,” he said. He blushed. “That’s all. I’m a good dancer.”
Avery sat down in his computer chair. He withdrew a twenty-dollar bill and tucked it into the waistband of Jeff’s shorts. “Prove it.”
Jeff blushed a little deeper red. He looked around. Avery got the feeling he had never given a man a lapdance outside of a crowded party. But Jeff took a deep breath and snapped his hips to one side, making his massive cock shake and bulge in the shorts he wore. He clearly didn’t have on any underwear beneath that.
A pounding rhythm filled the air, emanating from Avery’s niece’s little boombox back in the main house. That helped Jeff a lot, and he danced around the room for a few seconds to get into the rhythm of it. Avery watched his back muscles writhe.
“You ready?” Jeff asked, flashing his dimples. He backed up to Avery, who was still seated so Jeff’s ass was around his face level. Avery’s cock rocketed to attention. The fact that Jeff hadn’t prepared to strip today actually made this more arousing — dirty basketball shorts were more alluring, Avery thought, than contrived stripper clothes. The faint layer of chest hair that hadn’t been shaved yet even extended over his shoulder. His natural musk was only barely covered up by deodorant — he no doubt wore cologne when he stripped, but he assumed no one would notice through the fatsuit. All those things turned Avery on more than any polished Hollywoodized stripper.
His asscheeks flexed, one after the other, in front of Avery’s face. Avery inhaled deeply of the sweaty scent and moaned loudly, and the awkwardness of the situation made him chuckle. That made Jeff laugh too — it was clearly forced, he was in agreeable-stripper-mode — and Avery even tried to tease those shorts down before Jeff batted his hands away.
“No touching the stripper,” Jeff said.
Avery was expecting that. He slipped a hundred dollar bill into Jeff’s hand.
“Oh, well… Thanks,” Jeff said. He blushed.
Avery dove his face between Jeff’s buttcheeks. He inhaled deeply and licked the fabric of those shorts. Jeff grunted and laughed with a nervous tremor to his voice.
“I bet you could use more money,” Avery said. He pulled down Jeff’s shorts, revealing perfectly plump, pink cheeks. He kissed each one, making Jeff yelp and laugh again. Avery smiled. “How about two hundred dollars?”
“For what?”
“Stick it in me. Treat me like a woman,” Avery said. He patted Jeff on the left asscheek. Jeff turned around. He covered his bare crotch with both hands, shorts around his ankles. With his arms over the center of his body, his pecs were bunched together, making Avery so horny he wanted to burst.
“What?!”
“Oh come on, don’t tell me I’m the first guy to offer!”
He shrugged. “Well, uh… No, I guess you’re not. But you’re the first one to be serious! They, uh… I mean, at parties they make jokes, but…”
Avery giggled. “Oh, Jeff… What do they teach you in the Army? I can assure you those guys were serious. They made it like a joke because you were more comfortable that way. It meant you could say no and not get awkward, you could just shrug it off. If you said yes, they would pay you.”
“They would?”
“Well, I can’t vouch for all of them. I’m sure some would trick you and not pay. You gotta use some discretion,” Avery said. “But I’ll definitely pay you.”
“Oh… Uh… Okay. Yeah, fine,” he said. He closed his eyes. “Whatever. Fine. Yeah. I’ll do it. You gotta hurry though, they’re gonna want me back there when Frozen is done.”
“Well, then get to dancing,” Avery said.
Jeff took a deep breath and resumed his strip show. He shook his ass in front of Avery’s face, then turned around — his shorts were already around his ankles, so there wasn’t much stripping in this strip show. He simply wasn’t wearing enough clothes to strip.
But he did dance. He had a nice hefty cock that flopped between his legs. Avery switched the house music to a techno-Christmas album, and Jeff danced to a dubstep version of “Little Drummer Boy”. He even air-drummed like a drummer boy, and the sight of his bulging biceps made Avery’s dick so hard it was about to burst.
He beckoned Jeff, who gulped and approached. Avery grabbed his cock. Jeff winced and closed his eyes. He stood there with his hands on his hips, as far away from Avery’s chair as he could be while still being close enough for Avery to grab his dick.
Avery pulled. Jeff came closer, and closed his eyes again when his cock disappeared down Avery’s throat.
“Ah… alright…” Jeff grunted. As soon as he began, he seemed to lose a lot of his inhibitions — many guys reacted that way, as though they thought a man’s mouth was going to be painful and were surprised when it felt way better than they expected. Jeff’s face was bright red. “Wow, okay… You, uh… you get pretty deep on that.”
Avery already knew that, but he liked to hear it again. He rammed his nose all the way down deep in Avery’s crotch, nuzzling his pubic hair — which was mostly shaved. He inhaled deeply of that masculine musk.
In no time, Jeff’s cock was rock-hard and throbbing in Avery’s mouth. Jeff gasped and writhed. He moved like he hadn’t blown a nut in a long time, and it took every ounce of concentration to keep himself from blowing a load embarrassingly quickly.
Wanting to feel that shaft all the down his throat, Avery dragged Jeff’s hands up to his head. But Jeff just seemed to think he had to be gentle, and he let go of Avery’s scalp.
“You can ram it into my throat,” Avery said, wiping up all that drool that dripped past his lips. He licked Jeff’s cockshaft, making his whole body shake as Jeff moaned.
“Oh… I, uh… I don’t know… I mean, I know what, uh, but uh…” Jeff blushed. “I don’t know how…”
“What? Really? Don’t you and your fellow soldiers spend your leave banging whores? Don’t tell me you make sweet love to them and lick their pussies all night long?”
“Ew, no! No way! I don’t do that, man! No way! I don’t do prostitutes!” he looked genuinely shocked. “I mean, some guys in my unit… I’m not like that, man. You can be discharged for that. They’ll court-martial you in a heartbeat. I’m not into… I’m Christian, okay? I mean… things are different now. It was… I’m only doing this for the money. It’s not lust. That’s a sin.” He paused and bit his lip. “It’s not greed either, okay? It’s… It just makes fiscal sense. I can make more money this time of year if — nevermind, I don’t have to prove anything to you.”
“That’s right, quit talking and stick your dick in my throat!”
A strangled choking moan escaped from Jeff’s lips as he drilled his dick down Avery’s throat. He gasped and gulped. Jeff’s throat was somehow louder than Avery’s, even as Avery gagged uncontrollably and allowed his throat to be drilled.
Jeff may have been too nice to ever really ram it in anyone before, but he was tough enough and macho enough that it came easily to him. In no time, his balls swung against Avery’s chin, and Jeff grunted while precum flowed like a river down Avery’s throat.
That creamy, salty taste made Avery moan. This was already shaping up to be his best Christmas encounter ever, and it wasn’t even Christmas Eve yet.
“Okay, I’m gonna bust in a minute…” Jeff said. He pulled away. His face was bright red. His hands flailed above his spasming cock as he struggled to avoid blowing his load just yet. Avery watched and giggled. Precum flowed thickly down his shaft, and Avery licked it off, making Jeff shake like he was in pain.
Then Avery turned around and lifted his ass in the air. The sight of a man’s ass seemed to make Jeff’s erection die just a little bit, enough to bring him back from the bring of orgasm anyway. He hyperventilated as he approached Avery’s ass. He grimaced and wedged his dick between Avery’s cheeks.
“Okay, I, uh… I’ve never done this,” he said. “So you gotta tell me if I’m doing it wrong.”
“Sure thing, baby,” Avery said. He paused. “Wait, does that mean you have messed with a man’s mouth before?”
He chuckled. “It wasn’t my fault. She was dressed like a woman. I mean, he was dressed like a woman. The guys in my unit said they had all gotten blowjobs from her. But it was just a prank. It was a dark alley,” he said. “I didn’t notice she was, you know… a he.” He sounded defense. “He had tits that looked so real. They were just falsies. Ah…” Jeff gasped at the sight of his cocktip already in Avery’s ass. He had been so focused on telling Avery about the non-woman that he didn’t even notice that Avery had already gotten him started. Jeff bucked his hips and smiled at the feel of Avery’s tight ass squeezing around his cock.
One of Avery’s hands wrapped around his own dick, while he lowered his head and raised his ass. The sound of little girls screaming filled the air outside — Frozen must be finished.
“We better hurry for real then,” Avery said. He slammed his ass back, grimacing as most of Jeff’s cock slipped in. Jeff gasped. He had a big enough cock that he wasn’t used to anyone taking his entire shaft so easily.
He was still so shocked and overwhelmed by all that was happening that Jeff did little more than stand there. His rock-hard dick filled Avery’s ass up, but all of the motion came from Avery sliding back and forth. Avery didn’t mind — he enjoyed being a power bottom, and it was funny to watch a big macho soldier like Jeff react with such intense anxiety. Jeff watched his cock disappear inside Avery with his eyes wide open, as though he was constantly surprised and elated that his manhood wasn’t chopped off inside Avery’s body.
It was only right before his orgasm hit him that Jeff finally relaxed. He grimaced and gripped Avery by the hip with one hand, and by the shoulder with the other. He held on tight and slammed his dick in one time. He grunted loudly.
“Oh fuck, don’t move, man, don’t move, don’t move, don’t move,” he said over and over like he was panicking. Then he moved quickly, gyrating his hips and plowing Avery’s ass hard.
He groaned and grunted. His whole body twisted, muscles all flexing at once. He collapsed onto the ground atop Avery, his heavy Army muscles writhing above Avery’s head. He pistoned his hips a few more times, humping his dick deep in Avery’s ass in sync with the pounding bass beat of the stripper-music that still hadn’t ended.
Hot cum flowed into Avery’s ass, huge arcing jets of it that crept through Avery’s body. The warmth of his cum spread on his skin and through his veins, flowing throughout his body until Avery could feel and taste creamy cum over every inch of him.
Avery shot his own load as well, getting most of it on the floor. Jeff didn’t seem to notice. He kept on pumping his own wad deep into Avery’s ass, ending only when he got every last drop out. Jeff sighed. A wave of pleasure like melted butter exploded throughout Avery’s body, and he cried out, only to stifle the noise. He gasped. His whole body twitched and squirmed.
It was clear Jeff felt something similar, his muscles rippled where they pressed against Avery’s smooth back. His square-jawed face turned tense and red, and he plowed into Avery’s ass so hard it sent a jolt of pain accompanying the ecstasy that wracked Avery’s frame. Then, all at once, they both collapsed into a sweaty heap.
Still though, Jeff’s cock was in Avery’s ass, pulsating. A few final drops of creamy jizz hit Avery’s insides, and the heat of his load seeped into Avery’s flesh.
“Wow,” he said. “Daaaang…” He was about to say something else, but he was interrupted by Avery’s cell phone dinging to say he had gotten a text message. He lifted his upper body off, and he wiped a layer of sweat from his broadly muscled chest.
Overwhelmed by the pressure in his ass, Avery struggled to pick up the phone. Jeff didn’t move yet, just kept his limpening dick inside Avery’s tight ass. His hot breath condensed on the back of Avery’s neck.
He is santa not yr playtoy bring him back girls want santa. Gross.
“My sister says you need to go back. The girls want Santa,” Avery said.
He nodded and pulled away. Potent relief flooded Avery, who sighed and sprawled out on the floor. He lazily wrote out a check for Jeff before typing a response to his sister. Jeff sighed too, and then he wiped his dick clean with a wad of tissues from the box beside the bed.
Don’t be jealous sis. His cum tastes like peppermint so it is still holiday-appropriate. Deck yr own halls.
Jeff hurriedly got dressed again. He had put the fatsuit in the garage, so he walked out of Avery’s apartment above it wearing just those shorts again, putting on Avery’s t-shirt as he went. “Thanks!” he called out.
“No. Thank you,” Avery said. “Can you bring those presents there over?” he pointed to the pile in the corner. “They’re for my nieces. Tell them they’re early presents from the North Pole. Or whatever, make up your own story.”
“Yeah, sure, good idea.” He seemed relieved — that would explain where he was, it was a good excuse. He didn’t know Avery’s sister had already guessed what was happening. She knew how Avery rolled.
“See you later, Jeff. Remember — those dudes are not joking. You can make money letting them swing on your dick. Good money.”
He blushed with the undersized t-shirt half-on his chest. He pulled it down and cleared his throat. “Sweet. Okay. Thanks,” he said. “Yeah, I guess… I should’ve figured that out. Thanks. Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas, Santa!”

That word went upon forever, despite Buck not pronouncing mosta it.

“You gotta finish our laundry still, I’s tired of wearin’ dirty shirts, and I’s nearabout outta drawers.”

“You gotta finish our laundry still, I’s tired of wearin’ dirty shirts, and I’s nearabout outta drawers.” That made Lem laugh, cuz the way Buck said drawers was funny: “dra’ueuhiuhs”. That word went upon forever, despite Buck not pronouncing mosta it. Buck frowned at Lem but spoke to Habib. “And redd up the flo’oh.”

From Buck on the Oil Rig

disruptionating

Shanaiyah that the good Lord already knows about her ladyparts.

She shouldn’t be wearing nothing like that to church, Malcolm thought. He’d have Emma Jean Bartlebee tell Shanaiyah that the good Lord already knows about her ladyparts, she ain’t gotta show ’em off in God’s house. Her curves be disruptionating the whole congregation.

From Malcolm the Burly Black Daddy

He might as well wear a dinosaur

The only stores he could hoof it to was a place just for tee shirts with dirty jokes on ’em, a “antifascist surf and skater joint” and a store that sold nurses’ scrubs to plus-size ladies.

Thumper kept it to hisself that he ain’t know how to buy clothes no more. He ain’t find nothing in Baltimore that he considered a normal men’s clothes store. If he asked, Carson would tell him to google it. He did google it, and the only stores he could hoof it to was a place just for tee shirts with dirty jokes on ’em, a “antifascist surf and skater joint” and a store that sold nurses’ scrubs to plus-size ladies. He ended up in a thrift shop buying the kinda clothes he wore before, which was then retro but now was fossils. He might as well wear a dinosaur.

From Thumper the Booty Bandit