Rob is visiting England when he happens upon a studly scally willing to treat him terribly! Can Rob handle the ultra-raunchy man-on-man action Trevor has in store for him?!
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Rob walked into the parking lot of the Toppenlad Housing Estate, hoping he didn’t look vulnerable. He really wasn’t vulnerable — he had more ways to protect himself than he appeared, because he looked like a slim flamboyant weakling. But Rob could take care of himself.
Manchester was not a nice city. Sullen women glared at Rob, white men in track suits and undershirts chugging lager on every corner. One of the men scratched his nuts in a way that made his bulge very apparent, and Rob could see the outline of his cock through his Adidas tracksuit bottoms. Rob’s heart skipped a beat. He liked the alpha males of Manchester and their brusque accents. Most of them were unemployed, of course, who would hire such a lout? Throughout the city, scallies hung around on stoops and in alleys, shouting come-ons at girls of low repute. They ignored Rob, until one of them noticed Rob checking him out.
“Oi! Ya nasty siss! I’ll stomp that punk look off ya face!” He stood up, his big thick chest making Rob drool. He wore brilliant blue trainers with his chile 62s tucked into the socks.
Rob backed up. The scally had deep-set eyes and hair cut very short. He scowled and laughed at the frightened expression on Rob’s face. He spat on the ground, almost hitting Rob.
“Get outta here, mate!” His companions glared too, and they all bunched up so close together their bodies touched. Rob was entranced for a moment by the sight of their mostly bare arms rubbing against each other, their Adidas-clad asses touching. One of them even clutched the shoulder of the man next to him, and a for a moment, it looked like they were going to kiss. Rob would have gladly stayed to watch.
But that wasn’t what they were going to do. They were going to beat Rob up and take his wallet. So Rob left.
The Toppenlad Housing Estate had a big grassy courtyard in front of it. It might have looked nice at one point, but now the grass glittered with broken glass from bottles and empty cans of lager. Spraypainted graffiti covered the walls of the building.
“Oi! Come here, you bitch!”
“Let’s go!”
“I’ll suck your dick, baby!” That was a woman in skimpy clothes, hair pulled back so taut it looked painful. She was yelling at a man, then turned to Rob — seemingly to offer to suck him off as well, then she stopped when she saw the swishy lilt to Rob’s walk. She scowled. “Foickin’ pansy.”
Rob blushed, but entered the building. He found flat 9B with fear growing with every step. There was a man with a swastika tattooed on his back doing pushups near the lifts, with a Staffordshire pit bull watching Rob go by. The dog growled as Rob stepped into the lift. The man wasn’t doing pushups in any kind of area, he was just in the hall, not totally blocking it, but still in the way, and he did his push-ups with frantic energy like he was in a manic state, coked up or both.
Another man came into the lift before the doors shut, and Rob’s heart raced at the sight of a yardie with what appeared to be fresh blood on his trainers. It wasn’t even all dry yet. His dreadlocks smelled like coconut and steel, and he simmered and fidgeted, sucking on his teeth and sneaking glances at Rob the whole way up.
Finally the lift reached the ninth floor, and Rob stepped out. The yardie got out at the same floor.
There was a hypodermic syringe on the ground just outside the lift. Rob stepped over it. 9B was right over there. He could feel that yardie watching him. He had a feeling that he would have been mugged if he had gone to a different flat — Trevor was dangerous enough that his visitors didn’t get messed with. Others might not have been so lucky.
Rob knocked on the door, sighing with relief when he heard that yardie stalk away. He still wasn’t sure Trevor was going to be there, or even that this was the right address. Someone had told him he could buy drugs here.
After a few more knocks, Trevor opened it, nearly ripping the door off the hinges. “Wut, mate?” He was bleary-eyed and looked to be half-asleep.
“I-“
“Who the foik is you, mate? Huh? Ya foickin’ pussy-faced cunt, get in here!”
Rob’s heart raced. This was definitely Trevor. He had a shaved head, a scruffy chin, a craggy face with a scar on the cheek, and he wore an Adidas tracksuit over perfectly clean Nikes. He had a plain white shirt on, stained with sweat from yesterday’s workout. He had the same intense scent and overwhelming swagger that Rob remembered from the older Trevor in prison.
The smell of his chest was invigorating. Rob was overwhelmed, especially when he walked into Trevor’s flat. There were dirty trainers and socks everywhere, filthy clothes piled upon stacks of filthy clothes, and empty packets of fags, a couple of orange traffic cones for some reason, empty cans of lager galore and a ratty old mattress on the floor in one room.
“You’re Rob, righ’?” Trevor said with a nod. “Dave said you’d be ‘ere at one.”
“Yeah, I’m running late. I got stuck in traffic, you know how it is on a Friday afternoon. The cars on the M60 were back-to-back-“
“Oi!” Trevor had to crane way down to get eye to eye with Rob. His muscles heaved and his face turned red like he was going to strangle Rob. “I didn’t ask ya to tell me a foickin’ story, mate.”
Rob’s heart sank. “Yeah. Sorry. Okay-“
Trevor’s murderously angry face broke into a broad grin. He was actually quite handsome when he didn’t look like a psychopath, which seemed to be rare. “I was just taking the piss, mate. I’m a dealer, not a copper. How much do you want?”
Again, Rob’s heart skipped a beat, because Trevor turned to get him a bag, and his bare arm came so close to Rob’s face that he could taste the sweat beading there. “I just need a couple pills. The best stuff you got.”
The next few minutes were a blur. Rob didn’t really care about the pills. He liked being so close to Trevor while he showed him the three different pills he had. Rob bought four slinnidols.
After handing over the quid, Rob stood up, the pills in his pocket. He smiled at Trevor like he had just come up with an idea. “Did you want to make a little extra money?”
“Course, mate. You want me to bash someone?”
“No! Not that,” Rob said. “I’d like you… to ram me.”
Trevor laughed, a big, harsh Mancunian laugh. He clasped his belly too. “You’re a poofter, mate?”
Rob nodded and reached out for Trevor’s chest with one hand. Trevor looked at him and furrowed his brow. Rob stroked in between the crest of his meaty pecs.
“I’ll give you a hundred pounds,” Rob said. His heart nearly thumped out of his chest. “But you have to ram me, and you have to ram me hard. Can you do that?”
“Seriously? A ‘undred pounds?” Trevor scoffed. He licked his lips and sneered as though he was disgusted by the offer. Rob wasn’t surprised by that, he just stood winsomely, sucking on one of his fingers to tantalize Trevor.
Like a lot of men, Trevor wanted to get his dick wet and didn’t care too much whose wetness he dipped it in. He’d have gladly rammed any adult female besides his mother for a hundred pounds, no matter how nasty she was.
But a male?
“Oi! If you fink you’re gonna make me jerk you off, you’re wrong, bitch, and I’ll rip ya skull off if you try anything, I’ll piss down ya foickin’ throat.”
“Oh no, I wouldn’t do that,” Rob said. “I’m a bottom. That means-“
“You don’t ‘aveta explain,” Trevor said.
“I deep-throat real good,” Rob said. He demonstrate putting his entire fist in his mouth with his middle finger extending out and down his throat. He gagged but succeeded. “I have a tight ass too, tighter than any of the females you prolly fuck. I’ll never tell you to slow down or be gentle either.”
Trevor’s eyes opened wide. He didn’t want to look too excited. “That is foickin’ nasty, you li’l mincing fairy. But I’ll do it. For two tons,” he said.
“Fine.” Rob smiled — “two tons” was slang for two hundred pounds.
“You had be’er not complain when I’m swea’y and gross. I’m gonna make you regret it, poofter. You still ‘aveta pay me, even when you back out.” Then he belched directly into Rob’s face, the rancid smell filling up Rob’s nostrils. He laughed at Rob’s shocked expression, and he belched again. Perverts, he thought, were so neat and clean that Rob would hate being burped on, so Trevor thought Rob would back out.
That turned out not to be the case, but it took Trevor a few moments to figure it out. He forced belch after belch, a few drops of burpjuice even landing on Rob’s face. But Rob just grinned and sunk to his knees in front of Trevor, like a supplicant ready to worship.
“Stand up,” Trevor said. He wrinkled his nose, annoyed that Rob wasn’t responding as he had hoped. Normally women complained that he smelled bad — that was because he didn’t shower often. His pits were especially fragrant. His last girlfriend had dumped him after she accidentally stuck her nose in his pit. So Trevor lifted off his white tee shirt and tossed it to the floor, amid the sea of dirty clothes forever waiting for a laundry machine.
He lifted up one arm and slammed Rob face-first into his armpit. He cackled as Rob’s body twisted. He rubbed his hair over Rob’s nose and mouth. “Taste it, poofter, that’s what a real man tastes like.”
Rob inhaled deeply and licked his sweaty armpit hair. The taste was salty and potent. Rob loved every drop of it, and he especially loved the way Trevor’s big barrel chest shook when he laughed. Rob’s hands gripped Trevor’s flat, tattooed belly and reached for his ass, but Trevor stopped him.
“Poofs are nasty, mate,” he said. “Clean my other pit.” He wondered if this would be a viable long-term plan — maybe instead of paying for deodorant just to mollify a bunch of slutty females, he could let a siss pay him to suck his armpit clean every day.
Trevor didn’t want to let on that he was considering that option, so he tried to smell his own left armpit, the one Rob had already finished with, without being too obvious about it. It didn’t really smell much better though, he thought, it was still rank with sour sweat and caked-on grime, but now it had that spitty scent like a baby’s dummy too.
In fact, Rob did see Trevor sniff his other armpit, but he didn’t comment on it because he was focused on the right pit. He slathered saliva all over it and sucked up every drop of sweat he could find. Trevor had adorably hairy pits, and he smelled like he hadn’t showered all week (which was true, Trevor usually only showered on Sunday mornings because he saw his mother for dinner).
Trevor snarled because he had to suppress a laugh, as Rob’s tongue got through his hair to his ticklish skin. He covered up his ticklishness with an angry grunt.
“Oi, you can get on my dick now, ya poofter.” He firmly pushed down on Rob’s head, forcing him back to his knees. Then he hawked up a big loogie. He thought for sure this would scare Rob off as he spat it onto Rob’s face.
It was thick and stinky and it made Rob’s stomach churn, but it aroused him too. He loved being spat on by scally lads. He planted his lips on Trevor’s bulge, letting that nasty lump of phlegm slip out and soak into the fabric of his track bottoms.
“Oi! Don’t make my tracksuit duhty, swallow that shit! Don’t spit it out!” Trevor laughed at Rob’s expression — he couldn’t tell if Rob was turned on or grossed out. Trevor hoped both. Rob opened his mouth and sucked the loogey back into his mouth. Trevor growled. “Now swallow it.”
Rob gulped and did so. Trevor’s mouth was agape. He smiled. He was astonished that a man would willingly go through all this — Trevor had long thought he was sexy and women should treat him like he was. They didn’t. They generally preferred clean-cut upper-class guys. Even the sluts and tramps of the Toppenlad Housing Estate made it pretty obvious they wanted the nice suit-clad gentlemen who worked in offices and drove to work and read The Guardian, not the tracksuited lads like Trevor who walked to work on those occasions they had a job to show up to and didn’t read any of the papers, not even The Daily Mail.
Rob smacked his lips. He showed off his empty mouth. “Will you spit on me some more, please?”
Trevor was taken aback because he was expecting Rob to beg him to stop. He spat again and again, trying to make the poofter beg him to stop. He took a long chug from his can of lager hoping that would make him phlegmy again, but it didn’t work. He had been spitting so much his mouth was dry and not even the beer helped.
His saliva glistened all over Rob’s face. Trevor gingerly touched it, a smile creeping over his face as he smeared his spit to cover Rob’s cheeks. “Keep that mouth open, poofter. Let’s see what else you can put in there.” He picked up a nasty old sock off the floor, one that he had worn last time he worked (as a builder for a day, hauling bricks in barras back and forth to the worksite). The sock was ripe, and Trevor could virtually see the stink-lines emanating off it.
He jammed the sock into Rob’s mouth. The taste was bracing and acrid and harsh, and it brought tears to Rob’s eyes. It tasted like Trevor’s armpits but even funkier, and with actual dirt ground in. Rob could taste gravel and mud.
One of the things Rob loved most about socks and shoes was how it enabled him to taste everything about Trevor. He could picture Trevor at work, arms covered in grit as he wheeled a heavy barra among the builders. They wore those bright orange hi-vis jackets, and they all had deep, rumbly voices that could be heard a mile away because they spent so much time bellowing over the sound of the jackhammer. Trevor had come home from work that day utterly soaked in sweat, this sock plastered to his skin. He had taken one of those rare non-Sunday showers then, and he had pulled off that sock just before jumping in the water.
“Suck on me sock, poofter, nasty!” Trevor said. His dick was hard already, throbbing in his bottoms.
When Rob had soaked the sock with his spit — and the spit that Trevor had spat into his mouth — he pulled it out and rubbed it over his face. It absorbed all the spit and sweat there.
“Can I suck on your trainers?” Rob asked, his voice weak and mewling. He bent over and kissed the toes of Trevor’s left foot, through his squeaky-clean trainer. Like most scallies, Trevor placed a great deal of importance on footwear. He threw away his shoes and bought new ones — or more often, stole them — whenever they got scuffed.
“Suck on them? No. You can clean ’em, poofter. Clean me trainers like the bitch you are.” His trainers were white Nikes with dark blue highlights. Rob licked them, even rubbing his tongue like a sponge on a tiny spot of dirt until it came up.
After having a sock in his mouth, Rob’s tongue was dry. But he got a good burst of mud and sweaty foot flavor. He ran his tongue along the side of his trainers, then Trevor even lifted one foot up to see if Rob would suck on the underside.
Which he did, with a big smile on his face.
“That’s disgusting, mate,” Trevor said with a throaty chuckle. He pulled his feet away. He sighed, his cock still hard. A lot of guys got hard at the prospect of busting a nut regardless of the situation. Trevor pulled down his tracksuit to reveal a hefty, meaty cock, which stank of unwashed manhood. Rob put the tip in his mouth and sucked on it loudly, slurping up all the saliva he could generate.
Rob looked up and made eye contact with Trevor, who still looked shocked that this was happening even as his dick firmed up in Rob’s mouth.
“Oi, mate, open that froat up,” Trevor said. “You’re gonna learn how to gag real nice now…” He grabbed onto Rob’s ears and plowed deeply into his gullet.
His shaft was fully hard now, slamming in and out of Rob’s throat. Rob loudly choked and sputtered. Trevor’s balls slammed against his chin. Trevor loved that: balls-on-chin. That used to be he and his mates’s go-to threat: you’re gonna have chin-balls — it meant throating.
But now, Trevor was actually doing it. He’d be bragging about this to his friends for some time to come. He rammed so hard there was a satisfyingly meaty thwack-thwack as his balls hit Rob on the chin. Trevor would later go on to say Rob told him he rammed his throat too good, that his dick was too big for that, that he had such a legendarily huge cock that nobody could ever deep-throat him.
A gasp escaped from Trevor’s throat. His face turned ruddy. He hadn’t expected it to feel this good, and his muscles spasmed with pleasure. This was actually better than any blowjob he’d ever had. That’s because Rob loved his cock and loved its unwashed dirtiness even more. It tasted like those nasty old trackpants he wore, tattered and muck-splattered and dingy.
The precum was thick and salty, and Rob guzzled it down. He looked up to make eye contact with Trevor, but Trevor’s eyes were closed. He moaned as he rammed at Rob’s throat hard, slamming his dick in over and over.
He opened his eyes only when he pulled his cock all the way out. Spit dripped from it — some of it Trevor’s own spit from earlier and his phlegm too, which stuck to the palate of Rob’s mouth. Trevor’s eyes lit up.
He spat again and again, his beery mouth now finally phlegmatic enough to hawk a loogey again. It plopped nastily on Rob’s tongue, then it smeared over Trevor’s shaft as Trevor forced it back in his throat.
It was nice to ram a man’s throat, Trevor thought, because it was bigger and wider than a woman’s. That made sense to him, he thought. He could really push it all the way in like a porn star, and Rob didn’t complain.
But Trevor didn’t want to blow his wad like this. Aside from the fact that he had agreed to ram Rob in the ass, he wanted to do it — girls didn’t give up the ass very often. Trevor craved a bum.
“Oi, you had better open that arse up. Bend over, get on ya hands and knees,” Trevor said. He didn’t wait for Rob to comply though. He just grabbed his ass and pulled his track bottoms down. He bent Rob over on all fours.
Again, girls always made Trevor go slow. Even tarts who gave up the butt easy made Trevor be slow and gentle and use plenty of lube. Trevor didn’t want to do all that. He wanted to destroy some tight asshole. He loved the idea of watching someone squirm in both bliss and agony brought about by Trevor’s massive manhood.
So he spat on his palm a few times and wiped that over his shaft, which was already plenty moist anyway from Rob’s mouth. Trevor thought that ought to be enough.
“Say ‘I’m a poofter and I want Trevor’s cock’.”
“I’m a poofter and I want Trevor’s cock!” Rob shouted.
Trevor hit him in the back of the head. He pulled on Rob’s hair. “I didn’t say to shout it, pansy.”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Rob panted. His cock was so hard it felt like it was going to explode. “Please ram me. I need your cock inside me. You’re a real man, you’re a real alpha, I need you-“
Trevor cackled. He spat into the palm of his head and held it in front of Rob’s face. Rob sucked it up and even sucked on Trevor’s hand desperately, moaning as he felt Trevor’s cock rub between his cheeks.
With a surge of adrenaline flowing through him, Trevor bellowed and pounded on his chest as he pistoned his cock right into Rob’s waiting asshole.
“Open that asshole! Let a real man in there, ya li’l mewling pansy-bitch!”
Rob howled as his ass split, Trevor plowing into him so hard Rob drew blood where he bit his lip. A burst of pleasure and pain hit Rob in equal measure, the pain quickly subsiding as his ass adjusted to Trevor’s massive dick. That left behind only an intense and ever-mounting sense of bliss.
Trevor sighed. He wanted to talk, to grunt, to berate Rob — that’s what seemed right to him. That’s what a tough guy should do when ramming a man in the ass, he thought.
But he couldn’t simply because this felt too good. Rob’s ass gripped his cock, clenching, holding on, so Trevor had to rip in and rip out with each thrust of his hips. He would have thought that would tear Rob’s ass to bits, but somehow Rob took it without complaint.
“Stick it in me!” Not only did he not complain, but he shouted out loud.
Trevor couldn’t have that. He liked the idea of plowing into Rob hard enough he couldn’t stop screaming, but he didn’t want everyone in the nearby flats to know what was happening. His own grunts and shouted insults wouldn’t attract as much attention as Rob’s flamboyant, feminine lilt.
So Trevor grabbed another dirty sock, not the one Rob had sucked on before. He rammed it into Rob’s mouth to shut him up. Rob bit on the sock, his hands tightening into claws that dug at the dirty tracksuit beneath him on the floor. The taste was freshly musky and salty, and Rob savored it on his tongue.
That was enough to send Rob over the edge into an orgasm. The taste of Trevor’s scally foot flooded his senses, distracting him from the massive dick tearing his ass up. Rob’s prostate tingled and pulsated where Trevor’s cock throbbed against it.
“God damn!” Trevor groaned. He slapped Rob’s cheeks as a potent orgasm hit him. He didn’t even notice Rob jacking himself off onto the floor, which was filthy enough that Rob’s load wasn’t obvious.
Trevor’s climax was intense and grimy and it made him feel gross but also victorious. “Damn it, poofter, you have got one tight ass.” He chuckled as the first few drops of cum hit Rob’s insides. “Or you did have a tight ass, until now.”
Cum sprayed into Rob’s ass, great wads of it filling him up and coating his insides. It seeped into him, and Rob sighed. Trevor grunted. He weighed down on Rob’s back, pinning him to the floor. Trevor hadn’t intended to ram like this. He thought it would feel too awkward to be on top of Rob, his muscles flexing against Rob’s smooth shoulders.
But in the heat of the moment, it didn’t feel too strange. It made Rob twitch and cringe, squirming beneath Trevor as though he was trying to escape. Trevor’s hot breath condensed on Rob’s cheek. It smelled now, strongly of lager since he had started drinking since he belched on Rob’s face earlier.
His cumwad kept coming. Rob couldn’t believe how much he shot. Trevor was young and dumb and full of cum, it seemed, and Rob moaned the entire time as his ass filled up.
At last he was done. He pulled and chuckled as Rob spasmed. Trevor breathed a sigh of relief that he was done. “You are one gross poofter, mate. You kiss your mum with that mouth?” He laughed. He placed one of his bare feet on Rob’s face, making Rob suck on his toes. “You had be’er pay me. You’re not takin’ the piss, are you?”
Rob smiled, too exhausted from the plowing to laugh with him. He sucked on Trevor’s feet — Trevor had unthinkingly put his foot on Rob’s face thinking it would make Rob get up and hand over the money right away. He was so overwhelmed by his climax it didn’t occur to him that Rob would like it.
He jammed his big toe into Rob’s mouth until Rob gagged. Rob’s hands flailed and clawed at Trevor’s trunk-like thighs. His meaty thighs flexed beneath Rob’s touch.
“Thanks for the pills,” Rob said with a gasp when Trevor finally took his foot out of his mouth. “And everything.” Rob grabbed his wallet and counted out two hundred pounds.
Trevor nodded. It hadn’t occurred to him until he saw Rob’s wallet that he didn’t need to abide by any payment amount. He grabbed the entire wallet and pulled all the cash out — that was only an extra tenner, but Trevor didn’t care. This story would be better, he thought, if it was part of a robbery.
Rob blushed and nodded. Trevor scowled at him. “You had be’er get outuh here before I start looking for more money on you. If you had nicer shoes, I’d have already took ‘em.”