diversity – Mansploitation

The Inmate

Rob Winthrop bought a house abutting a prison so he could service inmates through the fence, but he never thought they’d have meat like this! His name is Tanker, and he’s got the goods if Rob is willing to cough up some dough…

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Rob Winthrop knew it would work eventually, it was just a matter of time. He had bought the house on Theodore Street both because it was a good investment — it was undervalued due to its neighbor — and because it abutted a prison, and there was nothing Rob loved more than hardcore prison thugs, mafioso and toughs of all kinds.
Of course, prisoners weren’t simply allowed to roam around all the time, or really any of the time. So Rob went for frequent walks along the couple of acres where his property shared a boundary with the prison, but there was never anyone outside whose attention he could get.
It was a wooded area, and on the prison side of the fence, there was a dirt road about thirty yards past the property line. Rob could barely see it from his property. That was the only thing he could see, since the trees were too dense to actually see the prison yard or any buildings.
But he could hear people talking between three and four o’clock in the afternoon — there was a distant, dull roar every day in that time. That, he deduced, was their rec time. The prison yard must have been beyond the trees somewhere.
Every day he hung out there in the afternoon, waiting for an opportunity. Finally on a Monday afternoon he saw a young black man in orange prison pants, shirtless, creeping down the dirt road. He was on the lookout for people following him, but he didn’t pay any attention to the far side of the fence, so he didn’t notice Rob standing there.
“Hey,” Rob said when he got real close.
“Aaah!” He yelped and put up his fists like he was about to box. Of course there was a fence in the way, and he screwed up his eyes.
“What’s your name?”
“What? Who the fuck are you?”
“Sorry, sorry,” Rob said. He was too nervous to think clearly. This guy was a handsome dark-skinned thug with cornrows and bluish tattoos covering most of his body below the neck. Most prominently, there was a dagger inserted in his chest above the heart, with blood seeping out and covering most of his torso. Another wound, a bloody gash, was tattooed over his sternum. Rob took a deep breath, entranced by the man’s muscles, which gleamed with sweat. “I’m sorry. I’m Rob. I live here.”
“In the woods?” He wrinkled his nose.
“There’s a house over there,” Rob said. “Are you… escaping?”
“What? No, man, what the fuck are you talking about?”
“You were creeping along like you were hiding.”
“I ain’t want no one to follow me,” he said. “I’m allowed to be here.”
“What is this road?”
“Nothin’. It’s s’posed to be a nature trail or some shit. No one ever uses it,” he said.
“Why are you here?”
“None of yo’ business, dude,” the prisoner said with a sneer like dude was a slur.
“What’s your name?”
“Also ain’t none of yo’ business.”
“I don’t want to get you in trouble,” Rob said. “Do you want me to jack you off through the fence?”
There was a long, awkward silence. The man peered deep into Rob’s eyes to see if he was kidding. His chest muscles flexed and he stepped close to the fence.
“What?”
“I really wanna get you off,” Rob said. “If you tell the others, I’ll jerk anyone off. And I swallow..”
“Anyone?”
“No diseases, no fatties, no old people,” Rob said.
“You nasty.”
“Yeah,” Rob said. “What’s your name?”
“Tanker.” He curled his lip like he was disgusted.
“Tanker? That your last name? Or your nickname?”
“Fuck you. Lick my dick,” he said. He spat on Rob’s face through the fence. Then he raised his eyebrows like he wanted to see if Rob would walk away or not. But Rob loved being spat on and treated poorly by prison thugs like him.
Rob dropped to his knees. He reached his fingers through the fence, getting just enough leverage to pull on Tanker’s loose orange pants. That lowered them. His dick flopped right out the fly of his coarse, gauzy prison-issue boxer shorts.
“You got a lighter, man?” he asked.
Rob nodded. He handed it over while licking on the shaft of Tanker’s dick. It tasted unwashed, but not exactly dirty — it tasted like cramped sweaty men, like Tanker had been spending time with other men in such a tiny area that his body, and his cock, brushed up against his homeboys and cellmates. That was precisely what Rob had hoped it would taste like. He gurgled merrily, and Tanker twitched like he hadn’t expected it to feel this good.
He lit a hand-rolled cigarette with the lighter, which he then pocketed. The woodsy smell of cheap marijuana filled the air — that must be why Tanker was sneaking into the woods by himself. He didn’t want to get caught with weed and he didn’t want to have to share it with anyone.
His dick perked up and jerked. Rob switched to swallowing the whole thing, or as much as he could since it kept getting thicker while it hardened in Rob’s mouth. Soon it was so thick Rob struggled to get more than the first inch or two into his mouth.
He paused and took a deep breath. He needed to focus on relaxing his throat, and he told himself over and over to relax. He was so excited that his plan was finally working.
“Damn, dude, I ain’t had a mouth like this in a minute,” he said, taking a deep drag on his joint. “You like homeboy meat, huh?”
Rob blushed. Thwacking that massive brown cock over his face, he smiled up at Tanker. “I like prisoner meat,” he said. “I don’t care too much about its color.”
Tanker nodded. He bucked his hips, slamming his dick forward. His entire body pressed on the fence, which swayed with his weight. His flesh pressed against the chainlink fence.
“Deep-throat that shit, man, swallow it,” Tanker said. He sounded frustrated, his fingers stretching through the fence the best he could, like he wanted more than anything to grab Rob’s head and pound him.
But Rob wanted to tease him a little. He slathered spit with his tongue all over the sensitive tip of Tanker’s dick, until the saliva dripped down onto the ground in long, thin tendrils. Rob knew how good this felt, and how powerful Tanker’s instinct would be to ram his dick into Rob’s mouth.
He didn’t though; he couldn’t. He could do nothing more than grab the chainlinks, gyrate his waist like he was humping the fence and moan loudly. He bit hit lip and bucked his hips. He fingered Rob’s hair through the fence, trying to grip it but all he succeeded in doing was pulling a few hairs out of Rob’s head.
“Damn, quit teasin’ it, man, come on, swallow it. Swallow it, man. Swallow it,” Tanker said. Rob lazily stroked it, giggling at Tanker’s exaggerated reaction.
“How long has it been since you blew a nut?”
He paused for a long time, seemingly trying to decide whether or not to lie. “I ramrodded this punk a couple weeks ago,” Tanker said.
“Who’d you ramrod a couple weeks ago?”
Tanker shrugged. “This prisoner. He Mexican.”
Rob nodded.
“He only charge twenty bucks for anal,” Tanker said. “I ain’t have the money for that though. I had to pay other ways.”
“What other ways?”
He thought for a long time. He chewed on his inner cheek. Then he shrugged. “I stabbed a homeboy. Ain’t kill him. He was a bad homeboy anyway.”
Rob relaxed his throat and deep-throated him, all in one smooth motion without warning. Tanker moaned so violently it sounded like it hurt. His humped his hips forward, pressing his crotch so hard into the chainlink fence that it bowed outward.
Precum flowed down his throat, its sweet and salty flavor assaulted Rob’s senses. It tasted frustrated and horny, exactly like a man who hadn’t had sex in months. Rob rammed his own head so far down that his nose nestled itself in Tanker’s untrimmed pubic hair.
“Ah, god-damn, boy,” Tanker swore. His entire body pressed against the chainlink fence.
He took a deep breath and snorted. He pulled away from Rob then, sneering at him. “Fifty bucks, sissy,” he said.
“What?”
“You wanna keep gettin’ me off?”
“Yeah.”
“Then pay me. Fifty bucks.”
“If I don’t pay you, you’ll just walk away?” Rob had every intention of paying him — he was going to hand over money even if Tanker hadn’t asked — but he wanted to see if Tanker would seriously claim he would walk away. Rob didn’t believe it. Tanker was too obviously horny to blueball himself.
He shrugged. “I can jack off,” he said. “I know you want it, and I know you got money. You got a taste of it. You know how big it is. Pay me.”
Rob slyly turned around. He shook his ass in Tanker’s direction. He pulled out his wallet and counted out fifty dollars — he didn’t want Tanker to see how much cash he actually had, or Tanker would just demand more.
He handed the money through the fence. “Hey, if you bring me other guys like you, I’ll pay you. If you get them to accept twenty bucks, I’ll give you the other thirty.”
“Hell yeah,” Tanker said.
“Gotta keep it low-key, or the guards will find out,” Rob said. “Make sure you-“
“Don’t tell me how to handle the prison, bitch,” Tanker said with a growl through gritted teeth.
“Oh. Okay, sorry. Just don’t get caught,” Rob said. He stuck his face into the chainlink fence, so his mouth squeezed through one of the openings. It was just big enough for his lips to fit through to the other side. He stuck his tongue out and wiggled it.
“Beg me fo’ it.” Tanker spat in the palm of his hand, and wiped it over his gleaming cockshaft as he stroked it.
“What?”
“I say beg me fo’ it. I like hearin’ pussies beg,” Tanker said.
“Please let me touch your dick some more. It tastes so good, and it’s so big and you’re so tough, I just need it. I need your dick in my throat, Tanker, sir, and I want to all of your cum. I want you to drown me in cum,” Rob said.
Tanker gurgled. He spat on Rob’s face through the fence. He stuck his dick through the fence and swayed his hips, trying to slap Rob over the face with his manhood. Rob had to move his head to be in the right position though. He moaned as its meaty thickness thwacked onto his cheeks. Tanker chuckled dryly.
Opening his mouth, Rob chased Tanker’s dick. He didn’t use his hands, he just tried to swallow it while Tanker rotated his hips to tease him over and over again.
“Chase it, sissy, huh? You gonna catch it or what?” He laughed some more.
Then Rob did catch it. Tanker stopped moving for a moment, and Rob deep-throated his dick as far down as ever. Tanker moaned and stretched. He raised his arms and gripped the chainlinks, his unwashed muscles beaded with sweat as he slammed his entire body into the fence.
The precum flowed freely. It was clear he would have cum already if there wasn’t a fence in the way, meaning he couldn’t plow the way he liked, he just kept spasming inside Rob’s mouth.
“Damn, man, I wish I could hold onto you,” Tanker said. “You’d regret this, fo’ sho’, bitch. I don’t hit boys nice in the butt. I’d be grabbin’ yo’ scalp and rammin’ you till you throw up, man.”
“I wouldn’t regret that. I’d love it,” Rob said.
“What?”
“That’s why I like prison thugs,” Rob said. He blushed and looked down. He kissed the tip of Tanker’s dick, the piss-slit winking at him as he flickered his tongue into it. “I love servicing cruel machos like you.”
“Can’t grab yo’ head,” Tanker said. He took a deep drag off his joint, which he had to hold carefully with two fingers now.
Rob had an idea. He took off his belt and passed it through the fence to Tanker. He took it having no idea what to do with it at first, then he got the idea.
Rob pressed his face against the fence again, and this time Tanker fed the belt through as well. He had to whip it around Rob’s head — Rob helped guide it — and wrapped it over Rob’s scalp. That meant Rob couldn’t back his head away. He wasn’t unable to move away, since he could still lower his head, but his head was immobilized enough for Tanker’s massive dick to throat him down.
“Take a deep breath, bitch,” Tanker said. He took one last puff on his joint, which he then swallowed without extinguishing it. Rob inhaled deeply of the scent of Tanker’s unwashed crotch.
Rob was still exhaling when Tanker jammed his dick down Rob’s throat. That now-familiar flavor of masculinity, dirty clothes and stainless steel hit Rob’s tongue, and he groaned as it shoved into his throat.
That triggered his gag reflex, but Rob was good at suppressing that, and in any case, Tanker seemed to like it. He grunted and pulled on the belt a little tighter. He held his dick deep in Rob’s throat, relentless even as Rob began to squirm and choke. Massive quantities of saliva dripped in clumps onto the ground at Rob’s feet.
One of Tanker’s hands remained on the belt to keep it taut, while the other squeezed a pair of fingers over Rob’s nostrils. It was a tight fit, since there was little space in front of Rob’s face, but he managed to do it, and that forced Rob’s throat open a little wider.
Finally Tanker allowed Rob to take a break. He let go of one end of the belt, and Rob’s body instinctively pulled away. He let out a hoarse, choking gasp for air.
“You okay?” Tanker asked as though he was unused to it, like he rarely inquired after anyone’s wellbeing.
“Hell yeah!” Rob exclaimed as enthusiastically as he could with a throat crying out for more oxygen.
Tanker looked dourly down at him. “You got a nice throat, bitch. If you was my bitch, I’d tattoo some pussylips on yo’ face.”
“I’d like that very much, Tanker.”
“You got a marker?”
“Uh… Yes!” Rob had forgotten he had his work bag with him because there was lube and some other stuff in it, including a sharpie. He handed it through the fence.
Tanker chuckled again, suppressing a smile, like he hadn’t really thought Rob would say yes. He did as Rob hoped though, and he drew some labia on Rob’s lower and upper lips. Since he had to do it through the fence, the drawing wasn’t very good — just a blurry smear of black ink really — but Rob couldn’t see it anyway, so he wasn’t disappointed. Tanker pocketed the marker.
Then he put the belt back in place again. His cock was still rock-hard and throbbing, looking even darker now that it was moist with saliva and bile and even some of Rob’s oxygen-starved tears.
“Let’s see how you manage, bitch. You can take dick, I give you dat, but can you take it right? Gonna make you throw up, bitch, I swear to god,” Tanker said once Rob was back, belted to the fence with his mouth open. Tanker hocked a big loogie into Rob’s open mouth.
This time, he didn’t just deposit his cock directly into Rob’s throat. He held onto his head through the belt and explored Rob’s gullet, humping his dick in from every direction and even moving it in a wide, slow circle. He seemed to be trying to make Rob gag — and succeeding, laughing each time — so he fucked his throat every way he could, as if it was a disreputable fleshlight.
“Love hearin’ dat sound,” Tanker said. “The sound of a bitch chokin’ on yo’ dick, ‘specially a pussy like you. Hell yeah. Choke up some more, bitch.”
Rob gurgled. He tried to say yes, sir but since his mouth was full, he succeed only in tickling Tanker and triggering a heave in his stomach. More saliva flowed over Tanker’s dick, soaking his pants.
“I think I’ve made a mess,” Rob said as he gasped for air. “Sorry.” Tanker’s orange prison pants were soaked with Rob’s spit-up.
Tanker shrugged. “I’ll tell e’ryone I got off with a bitch. They won’t care. I ain’t gonna say who you is.” He paused. “If you here all the time, man, they gonna see you. I can’t control who get a nut off, y’know, I can’t get paid if they know when you gonna be here. Why don’t you just schedule it wit’ me? Then I can send you homeboys when you ready, and you pay me.”
“Okay,” Rob said.
“You best pay me, motherfucker. I got connections on the outside. They can put a hurtin’ on you if you try and stiff me,” Tanker said. He spat again, aiming for Rob’s face. But his spitwad hit the fence, and only a few drops splattered onto Rob.
“Okay. I’ll pay,” Rob said. “No problem. I’ll be here at three o’clock every day.” He lazily stroked Tanker’s pulsating cock, which dripped with saliva. Rob spat more up and onto the shaft. “You can meet me and bring whoever you want. I’ll hide behind this tree, so if someone else comes through they won’t see me.”
Rob knew he could get more prison cock if he just hung out here. He could tell anyone who came by that he was jacking off anyone, and he’d probably have dozens of men coming through. But he didn’t do that for a couple reasons. First of all, most prisoners were really not very handsome — the average age of an inmate in America was sixty-two, and a lot of them were fat as well — but Rob felt confident that Tanker would only bring his gang buddies over. They’d be younger on average, and no doubt having a better physique than most. Besides that, with dozens of inmates crowding the fence, it was likely that fights would break out, and guards would soon learn what was happening. If the prison administration made this a solid fence, or electrified it, or just added a second fence a foot away from the first one, it’d be impossible for Rob to get anyone off.
And the most important reason to let Tanker bring him men was that Rob liked the idea of Tanker bringing men here and keeping them quiet. The only downside was that Tanker was a black prison thug whose buddies were no doubt also black prison thugs, whereas Rob enjoyed a little diversity — he would have to offer Tanker extra cash to bring rednecks, mafioso, bikers and more.
“I’ve got an idea, Tanker,” Rob said as he licked the shaft and suckled moistly on the tip. Tanker’s whole body writhed and he nearly orgasmed right then, jabbing his salty cocktip into Rob’s mouth. The belt had fallen to the ground, and Tanker was too distracted by pre-orgasmic pleasure to notice. He gripped the fence with his hands and even bit the chainlinks, dick throbbing on Rob’s lips. Rob giggled. “I think you’ll enjoy it.”
Rob turned around and undid his pants — since he had already taken his belt off, all he had to do was stand and his pants fell down.
“Aw, damn, dude, you want me in yo’ ass?”
Rob nodded.
Tanker chewed on his lower lip. “I promised my mama I wouldn’t do that. She don’t like ugly.”
“Oh well, you don’t have to do it,” Rob said. “I don’t wanna make you break a promise to your mom and-“
“I ain’t say no,” Tanker said. He sighed. “Gimme more money.”
Rob shrugged. “I’m not paying you more every time,” he said. He handed over the hundred-dollar bill from his wallet. Tanker’s eyes opened wide like he had never seen a hundred-dollar bill before.
“Damn, you really want my dick in yo’ ass, huh? Well for a hundred and fifty bucks, I’ll stick it in anything,” Tanker said. “Come on, back dat ass up.”
Rob got down on his hands and knees. He backed up until his ass was pressed against the fence.
“Nah,” Tanker said. “You gotta get up higher. I got some self-respect. Ain’t gonna ram a male down in the dirt, like a fuckin’ swine.”
Rob blushed but agreed. He raised his ass higher. Since Tanker was so tall, it wasn’t easy, and in the end, Rob had to stand and bend over to grab his ankles.
“Spread yo’ cheeks, bitch. I can’t get a grip,” Tanker said. He jabbed his dick towards Rob’s hole, but he couldn’t get any leverage to spread his cheeks.
This was a very difficult position for Rob. He had to use both hands to separate his asscheeks, which meant he couldn’t support himself on his hands. He was bent over, head nearly on the ground with his hands in the air behind his back.
A twinge of pain hit him, followed by a long, slow melting pleasure that wrapped over his bones in waves, emanating from his ass. It took a long time for the pleasure to build, but Tanker’s rock-hard cock explored Rob’s ass and found his prostate soon enough.
Despite his claim that he had promised not to plow a man in the ass, Tanker did not plow like someone who wasn’t used to it — that made Rob wonder if that had been a lie, if maybe Tanker only said it to get more money out of Rob.
“Keep yo’ cheeks spread, bitch,” Tanker muttered whenever Rob’s hands slipped. It didn’t slow him down any, now that his cock was in Rob’s ass. His fingers slipped through the fence and fingered his cheeks desperately, trying to get a grip on his flesh.
Soon his entire cock pulsated in Rob’s ass. Precum flowed within him, and Rob could feel the man’s dick throbbing, the orgasm bubbling under — Rob sensed it growing with each thrust of Tanker’s dick.
If Rob had any hands free, he would have been jacking himself off and would have undoubtedly cum already (at least once). But he couldn’t stop spreading his cheeks, even for a moment, or Tanker would bark at him to get back in position.
“You tryin’-a get away from me, bitch? Stay there. Stay in position, ya fuckin’ sissy,” Tanker roared through the fence.
But Rob didn’t stay in position. For the first time since this had begun, he didn’t do what Tanker said. Despite the pain it caused in his ass, Rob lifted his head and upper body.
The motion sent waves of agony through Rob’s spine as his ass moved around Tanker’s dick. Meanwhile Tanker moaned and grunted like he was surprised. He had to focus to keep his cock deep in Rob’s ass while it moved, but he managed to do so.
Rob lifted himself up until his entire upper body leaned against the fence. Tanker was still deep in his ass, and his upper body leaned against the other side of the fence. So they were close enough now that Rob could feel Tanker’s solid muscles writhing, and he could feel the sparse body hairs scratching at Rob’s smooth back skin. Just the wiry edges of the chainlinks separated their bodies.
“Oh, you down fo’ that standin’ shit, huh?” Tanker muttered. He slammed his hips, whistling in appreciation at the new position. “That’ll do nicely, baby.”
His fingers pinched Rob’s back and his asscheeks, as he tried to grab ahold of him through the fence. All he could manage was a few pinches.
But his face was right behind Rob’s head, and his hot breath condensed on Rob’s neck and cheek. Rob even rolled his head to the side, so his face was against the fence. Much to his surprise, Tanker kissed his cheek through the fence, moaning as he did. He nibbled seductively on Rob’s earlobe.
Though his words were still menacing, Tanker’s voice broke and showed some affection as he neared his orgasm — Rob could feel it coming deep in his own ass. Tanker’s cock, which seemed to be getting bigger with every passing thrust, rammed easily in and out now, like Rob’s ass had been built just to accommodate Tanker’s manhood.
“I love the way yo’ asshole feel around my dick, boy,” Tanker said softly. “It feels real good. You got a nice ass. I like destroyin’ it, boy. I love it. I think I might love you, bitch. You love me?”
“Yes, baby!”
“Good. I don’t love you, you too nasty. You too dirty,” Tanker said. “You don’t love me neither. You love my cock, right?”
“Yes! Oh god, yes, I love your cock!”
“‘Course you do. E’ryone loves Tanker’s cock ‘ventually,” he said. He gasped. “Gonna fill you up in a minute. Beg me fo’ it.”
“I want your cum inside me! I wanna feel yo’ baby batter flowing into me, please!”
“Jack yo’self off, baby,” Tanker said. He nibbled on Rob’s earlobe again, then kissed him on the cheek. Rob nearly collapsed in shock as Tanker even kissed him on the lips the best he could — since Rob’s face was sideways on the fence, it was an awkward kiss, but it felt perfect to Rob. “You love me, baby.”
The switch from calling Rob a bitch to calling him a baby was unexpected, and it made Rob croon with desire. No one like Tanker had ever called him baby before.
The sensations in his ass were incredible, mind-blowing. It felt like he was being ripped apart yet at the same time it felt so good Rob had trouble remaining upright. His knees were weak. His own dick throbbed in his fingers.
“C’mon, I wanna blow,” Tanker said. “I’m gonna fill you up so good, but I ain’t doin’ it yet, baby.” He kissed Rob on the lips again. “I wanna feel you cum, okay? I always make my prison punk jack off when I ram him, that way he clench down when he cum. C’mon, finish yo’self off.”
Rob’s mind whirred — that confirmed that Tanker was lying about promising not to be a ramrod (or at least it confirmed that he had never upheld that promise). That made Rob feel a little better, since he didn’t like the idea of making someone break a promise to his mother and pastor.
His whole body undulated as an orgasm hit him. It was the most powerful climax of his life, since it began in his prostate and kept building as Rob stroked himself off. By the time his first few drops of cum landed on the ground at his feet, the pleasure was already so intense it wracked his body like a seizure.
And then Tanker reached orgasm as well. He grunted and moaned, cursing indecipherably as he slammed his dick into Rob’s ass one last time. He held it there, unmoving, for what felt like forever, while Rob clenched and writhed.
A spurt of white-hot cum sprayed within his ass, followed by more. Then it flowed out like piss, a long, constant stream of creamy cum that felt so good Rob moaned as loud as he could.
“Take it, baby, gonna fill you up, hell yeah… Gonna drown yo’ ass in nut, baby, gonna fill you up so much it come out yo’ ears…”
Tanker’s whole body flexed, then relaxed and he groaned. He slapped Rob’s ass, sending a wave of bliss through both men’s bodies. Tanker’s balls drained wad after wad of his seed, so much so that it dripped out of his ass and flooded his innards. Rob felt it seeping throughout his body, soaking into him until it was everywhere, like he was becoming one with Tanker.
At last it was all over. Rob had no idea how long the climax had lasted, but it felt like forever. His knees were weak. When he finally pulled off Tanker’s dick, a tremendous sense of relief overwhelmed him, and he could do nothing more than stagger away and collapse onto the ground.
Tanker took a deep breath and wiped his cock off with one hand. He wiped his hand off on a nearby tree. He grimaced at Rob when he saw how his hand was now covered in sticky santorum.
“That was good, baby,” Tanker said. He sighed. “You got a nice ass.”
“Thanks. I love your cock. When you’re released, you can come see me,” Rob said. “I’ll let you stay with me. As long as you fill me up every day, you don’t have to pay any rent.”
He nodded. He frowned. “I ain’t gonna be released till I’m nearly fifty.”
Rob shrugged. “As long as you still got that dick, come see me,” he said with a giggle. “Don’t forget. You get thirty bucks for bringing me men.”
“Don’t pay ‘em nothin’,” Tanker said. He pulled his pants up and walked a few feet away. “Just gimme fifty bucks each. I’ll tell ‘em you do it for free. They’ll do it for free. Hell, I might be able to make ‘em pay a few bucks.”
“You’re gonna get paid from both ends?”
Tanker smiled broadly, and wiped the sweat off his dark brown brow. He licked his lips and squeezed his dick in those orange prison pants. “I’m a pimp, baby. That’s why I’m in here in the first place. Courts don’t like pimps.”
“That’s a long sentence for pimp.”
“Three strikes, baby, and I tried to shoot a cop.” He paused. “I did shoot a cop. He lived though.”
“Oh, cool. You’re gonna be my pimp.”
“That’s right, baby,” Tanker said. “I loves ya, and I’ll make sure you get treated just like you deserve. You do whatevuh I say, baby, or I’ll make you go find some other pimp to bitch-slap you.”
“Okay.”
“Good. Come back tomorrow at three,” Tanker said. “And bring some cigarettes. Menthol. 100s.” He walked away without waiting for a response. The bare muscles of his sweaty back flexed as he strode through the woods back towards the prison.
“Okay. Love you too, Tanker!” Rob stood there and watched him disappear into the woods, and he was so aroused by the experience that he stood there and jacked off again by himself. He daydreamed about Tanker coming to visit him outside of prison, a little older, a little grayer, but still full of all his prison thug appeal.
Rob couldn’t wait for tomorrow.

The Truck Stop

Charlie is a football player on the road with his college team when he stumbles across a notorious cruising spot, where his coach shows him the ropes… Coach Thickman introduces Charlie to an exciting world of man-on-man truck stop action!

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Charlie Smitkowski nervously got out of the van and stretched in the truck stop parking lot. His teammates all seemed so confident, but he didn’t know how they could be. He certainly didn’t feel confident here. He never did.
For one thing, he was nervous he would get hard in the shower. Thinking about it did give him a stiffy, or at least it made his dick twitch like it might get stiff. Maybe that wasn’t a reasonable fear — he had never gotten hard in the group shower back in the GHU athletic building. But he would be nervous here, naked among strangers instead of his teammates.
The GHU football team scattered towards the showerhouse. Charlie gulped. He was glad to be out of the van, which stank of his teammates’s sweat. They had spent the last three hours in the van.
There were only two universities in Wyoming with football fields, so Charlie and his teammates made this day and a half voyage by van often, every time they played the other team. They always stayed in a hotel halfway there, but that hotel — the only option for many miles around — had little to no hot water. They claimed they did, but the showers either didn’t work, didn’t spray hot water or sprayed only brown, muddy water.
So no one ever showered there at the motel. They stopped at the Ramwide Truck Stop to shower instead.
But it wasn’t just his team. Old men showered there, rednecks, black men, bikers, old men, Latinos with tattoos and bullet wounds — it was scary. This was a rural area, but one that was right off a highway with a lot of truck traffic. The truck stop was busy even out here in the middle of nowhere.
But Charlie felt compelled not to let on that he was scared. He didn’t want to be the only one on the team who felt that way. He’d look like the biggest pussy in the world. None of the other players seemed nervous about it. They were all nonchalant, like they showered with dozens of naked strangers every day.
So he hung back. He tried to steel his nerves. He went into the showerhouse after his teammates, thinking he’d feel more comfortable that way.
A fat cock sat stared at him. Charlie backed out in a panic. There was a man changing in there, a naked white man with a shaved head and a vaguely nazi look, his huge white dick dangling just a few feet from the door. He made a kissy face at Charlie, who turned tail as he heard the man laugh.
Not wanting to look frightened, Charlie went to the vending machines. He made it look like he simply decided to drink a bottle of iced tea before going in the showerhouse.
He wondered if he could get away with not showering. It’s not like anyone was watching to make sure. He didn’t think he stank, and he hadn’t been sweating very much. He could shower in Cheyenne anyway — he never really got why they bothered showering here in the truck stop, when they’d all go straight to the visitors’s locker room in Cheyenne as soon as they got there. It was just instinct and habit, he guessed, that made his teammates shower in the morning. Nobody wanted to be the stinkbutt who didn’t shower, and nobody wanted to look like a squeamish punk unwilling to get naked in front of other men.
He hurried around the back of the showerhouse, hoping to relax out of view for a moment. The woods behind the truck stop were dense with foliage, so Charlie couldn’t see more than a few feet away. There was a patch of no-man’s-land between the showerhouse and the highway, which was where Charlie headed.
A path was there, blocked by shrubbery so it wasn’t visible until Charlie was in that patch of scrubby forest. It wasn’t a marked path, just a beaten route in the dirt. Charlie took a few steps down it, curious why there was a trail out here.
“Hmmm-hmm…” That was Coach Thickman’s voice.
Charlie gulped. He crept closer. When he got around a tree, he saw Coach Thickman — a hefty, broad-chested black man with a scruffy beard and a shaved head — with his pants around his ankles. He held onto the scalp of a thin white man as he rammed his dick into the man’s throat.
Charlie gasped. He wanted to run away, he felt an instinctual need to leave.
But he also couldn’t quite bear to stop watching. He wanted to see what happened. His eyes opened wide. He had never seen anything like this.
Coach Thickman looked confident — he always did, he was swaggerous, dominant, tough. He had a powerful body, thick as anything, with a hairy chest for a black man. He taught “industrial arts” and coached the basketball team. He often came out on football team trips too, which he said was because he wanted to support them but probably was because he could use the overtime. He had a cocky strut that Charlie had always found exciting, exhilirating, even arousing.
That was how Charlie wished he could carry himself. Coach Thickman’s heavy balls slapped against the man’s chin as he humped his cock down the man’s throat. Thickman let out a little bristly moan too, and he murmured some soft nothings as he pounded away.
The white man swallowing Coach’s cock was Avery, the team manager and a junior at the college. He came here frequently to cruise, so it was a happy coincidence that the team would be here too.
They were mostly truckers, Southern men with huge cocks and musky bodies. Avery would lick them clean like a cat if they let him. Coach Thickman’s foot-long cock throbbed veinily in Avery’s mouth. The sour-salty flavor of precum coated his tongue and throat, as he swallowed every inch of that massive shaft.
“Hmmm… Come on, open up,” Coach Thickman murmured. He used both hands to keep Avery’s head in place. He didn’t pound into Avery’s throat violently. He focused on grinding his dick deeply in Avery’s gullet, continuing even when he felt resistance and gagging. Thickman knew well how to throat a man down, and Avery was an expert in accepting massive alpha male cocks.
Intense pleasure rocketed through his body. A part of Coach Thickman thought he was being watched, but he ignored that feeling — he didn’t mind, for one thing, he liked putting on a little show. He wondered if any of the football players were watching, he hoped so.
“Swallow that shit, boy…” Coach Thickman said with a grunt.
He sprayed his wad deeply into Avery’s body, coating his belly and filling it with his creamy seed. It was hot and thick, and it seeped into Avery’s flesh from his stomach. Spasms of pleasure rocketed up Thickman’s body, and his muscles all rippled at once. A throaty groan came out of him.
His muscles were so powerful, so thick, so firm — or so they looked. Charlie had to fight the urge to show himself and grope Coach Thickman. Sweat clung to the curves of his biceps, and it glistened off his skin in the dim light. Charlie murmured to himself and licked his lips, his hand in his pants playing with his own throbbing erection.
“Hmm-hmm, take it, swallow it, damn…”
Thickman’s fat cock kept going, pulsating in Avery’s throat. Avery choked up a big wad of white precum that dripped down his chin and landed on the forest floor. Avery gurgled merrily, slurping on Coach Thickman’s limpening dick and taking in every drop he could.
Finally he was done. “Damn, boy…” Coach Thickman took his dick out and tucked it away in his track pants. His last few drops of jizz were soaked up by the fabric of his pants, which made a small wet spot in his crotch. Thickman either didn’t notice or didn’t care.”We got another away game in two weekends. You gonna drive the van for us?”
“Maybe,” Avery said with a smile, his hands moving up Thickman’s body under his shirt, to grope up his muscles. “I’ll have to check my calendar.”
They kept talking, but Charlie darted away. He didn’t want to get caught watching. That would be embarrassing, especially since he realized only just now that he had been jacking off. He had shot his own wad onto the ground. It felt so good and so natural he didn’t notice until he was orgasming, and now his dick was so sensitive it hurt.
Did they know he had done that? Would anyone be able to tell? Charlie was in a panic as he fled back to the bus.
Luckily, everyone just assumed Charlie had taken a shower, and no one asked. He snuck a sniff of his pits, which didn’t smell too strongly of sweat. Charlie assumed he hadn’t been seen because no one ever mentioned it.
But Avery had seen. He knew better than to acknowledge it though, because he thought he could still land a taste of Charlie’s meat if he waited for the right moment. Charlie Smitkowski was one of the athletes at GHU Avery most craved.
Avery hung out behind the truck stop waiting for that van of football jocks to return. He got a few truckers in the two weeks he waited, but no one as handsome as Coach Thickman. That was expected. They couldn’t all be winners.
Still, he waited. This would pay off soon, he was sure, and he had little else to do as his classes were almost done for the semester. He was just studying for the finals at this point.
He heard the van pull up while Avery finished a bottle of water at a picnic table near the showerhouse. It had been a slow day, unseasonably hot and humid as could be. He went to the air conditioner, where he could stand and peer into a window into the shower and the whirr of the compressor meant Avery didn’t have to worry about making noise. That position gave him a good look into the shower, and he could see out front if Coach Thickman was heading back here.
A muscular blond jock was flopping his dick between his fingers as he soaped himself up. Avery watched the shower water run over his plump ass as he shook his cock — he seemed to be making a point about how big or high-quality his cock was, or maybe he was just trying to get attention. But out of the corner of his eye, Avery saw that Charlie Smitkowski meander casually behind the showerhouse. He went around the other side of the building, so he didn’t see Avery at the air conditioner.
As soon as he saw Charlie, Avery hurried away from the air conditioner and darted behind a tree. He pretended to be waiting there when Charlie nervously approached.
“Hey,” Avery said.
“Hi.” Charlie was tense, lips pursed together. He didn’t know what brought him here, except that he thought that Avery would probably be here again, and he had made sure to beat Coach Thickman here. Charlie figured that he’d have some privacy if he was first.
Avery didn’t say anything else. He just dropped to his knees and pulled Charlie’s dick out through the fly of his jeans.
His dick disappeared into the man’s mouth, and Charlie let out a nervous whimper. Pleasure shot up his spine. It felt good, better than anything he had ever done. He wondered if this man was that good, or if he had simply never been with a good woman.
His dick rocketed to full erection. Charlie moaned and licked his lips. He could feel an orgasm already rising up within him, and he was worried he’d cum quickly and look like a loser.
“Howdy, son,” Coach Thickman’s baritone voice boomed and echoed in Charlie’s mind.
Charlie winced and turned around just in time to get a face full of Coach Thickman’s bare chest. He was in his boxers and shower sandals, his hefty chest shaking as he came closer. His dick was already poking out through the fly of his shorts.
“Oh, uh! Hi! Coach Thickman! Hi! I-“
“Hush, boy,” Coach Thickman said with a low, throaty murmur. He stood next to Charlie, so close their asscheeks pressed against each other. Charlie felt small and weak. Coach Thickman’s heavy arm draped over Charlie’s shoulders, and his armpit hair rubbed against Charlie’s bicep.
That was enough to keep Charlie from cumming too quickly. He was too nervous to do anything more than try not to smell Coach Thickman’s armpit — which didn’t smell bad, since he had just showered moments ago, it smelled like deodorant, but it was intense and warm and Charlie felt like less of a man every time he caught a whiff.
Their dicks touched. Charlie gulped. He looked around as though considering fleeing — the thought did cross his mind, but he wouldn’t want to blue-ball himself like that. He could do this. It was so exciting his heart raced, he felt like he’d never really been alive before this moment.
His pale tan cock smushed up against Coach Thickman’s. Charlie was glad to see that they were the same size — he would have felt inadequate if his dick was small. Avery could tease both cocktips at once, slurping down the precum that flowed from both piss-slits.
He tongued both shafts and licked all four balls in turn. Avery enjoyed dragging this out because he liked the sight of both men feeling each other up. It was Coach Thickman mainly, whose arms flexed as he moved, thick muscles caressing Charlie’s smoother chest.
But Charlie couldn’t quite stay still either. He jumped back and forth on his feet. Every time a shiver of pleasure shot through him he blushed and quivered a little more.
Charlie saw Coach Thickman’s mouth coming and could have moved his head away. It was obvious they were about to kiss.
A part of him wanted to be kissed. For just a moment, he allowed himself to feel desire for the mature football coach with the grizzled beard. Charlie gulped.
“Ah-!” Charlie’s gasp of surprise was cut off by Coach Thickman kissing him on the lips. Their tongues collided in Charlie’s mouth, while Charlie lost himself in his coach’s arms.
He didn’t know how long that lasted. It felt like forever. Coach Thickman noisily kissed him, slobbering over his lips and cheeks and neck. He even left a hickey that Charlie would later have to claim was from a girl last night (luckily, the others all believed him).
They were still kissing as they both orgasmed at once. Avery slurped on both cocks the best he could, slathering both dicktips with his spit. He used one hand on each shaft too. He loved being double-teamed in the mouth, especially by men whose dicks instinctively fought with each other for space in his mouth.
Creamy cum coated his tongue and ran down his throat. It was salty and warm, with two distinct flavors — one bright and sunny, the other fragrant and spiced — Avery couldn’t decide which one came from which. He guzzled down every drop, continuing to lick both piss-slits even as both men’s muscles twitched.
“Goddamn!” Charlie sounded like he might cry, he was so impassioned and stressed. He wiggled in Coach Thickman’s arms.
“Shit yeah,” Coach Thickman said. He finally let go and stepped away. He took a deep breath, laughed and smacked Charlie’s asscheek. “Good job, son.”
“Uh, thanks.” Charlie’s face was red, and he took a deep breath. He tried to look nonchalant.
“You boys have a good game,” Avery said. He stood up and stretched his legs. “But you better move on. I want to get going before too late.”
Charlie was glad to go. He was glad for the unspoken rules of man-on-man action — Coach Thickman didn’t need to tell him that this was a don’t-ask-don’t-tell kind of scenario. Coach Thickman would never mention it, and Charlie would try hard not to think about it.
It was hard not to think about it though, over the next few weeks as Charlie prepared for the state championship that would bring him back to that same truck-stop once more.
That had felt so good he could scream, and he needed to feel that way again. He even considered driving down there once in the middle of the night — if he hadn’t needed to borrow a car, he probably would have done it.
Of course, Avery probably wouldn’t be there at three o’clock in the morning anyway, Charlie told himself. Charlie had never told anyone what happened. He and Coach Thickman looked at each other and shared wry, awkward grins, but Charlie didn’t think there was any way that anyone else would find out.
He went to the truck stop one more time. Charlie told himself that this would be it — the last time the team went came to this truck stop this year. Hopefully next year he wouldn’t be doing anything like this. Maybe he’d even have a girlfriend by then.
He hung back while the rest of the team hurried into the shower, while Charlie snuck around back. He arrived in the woods behind the truck stop shower, where he turned around a tree and ran into Coach Thickman.
“Charlie, my boy.” Coach Thickman crossed his arms over his big black chest. He was hairy, with an amateur bodybuilder’s body, which made Charlie nervous — last time, Coach Thickman’s body hadn’t been as hairy because he’d shaved his chest recently. But now Charlie felt even weaker and younger than ever. Thickman glared at him and placed one heavy hand on Charlie’s shoulder.
“Coach Thickman! I was just back here, uh, to… to see, y’know, what-“
“Hush, boy,” Coach Thickman said. “I know exactly why you was back here.”
“Yes, sir.”
Then, in one smooth motion, Coach Thickman lowered his head and planted his lips right on Charlie’s. At first, Charlie had an urge to push away and make him stop, the same urge he’d had before when they got their dicks wet at the same time.
But then Charlie realized he wanted it. He wasn’t scared — a little nervous, but not scared — and he wanted this to happen more than anything. He didn’t mind that Avery wasn’t here.
He wanted to taste Coach Thickman.
Coach’s arms wrapped around Charlie’s body, holding him close as they kissed. Coach Thickman stroked his smooth back and shoulders, making Charlie quiver in excitement.
“What.. was that?,” Charlie said, his voice wavery and plaintive.
“Hush. That ain’t the issue at hand, boy,” Coach Thickman said. “We gotta get down to business, and that business is makin’ love. We gonna brew up a big pot of lust, boy. Ya feel me?”
“Yes, Coach.” Charlie shook as he sunk to his knees. He couldn’t believe he was really doing this. He opened his mouth and it filled immediately with Coach’s throbbing black cock. It was thick and veiny, and it tasted both bad and good at once — it was musty and fresh, sweet and sour, salty and watery, creamy and thick, all at once, and it made Charlie want to taste even more of it.
He opened his mouth wide, letting Coach Thickman drill his dick down his throat. Charlie stroked himself off as he took it. His throat gradually loosened until finally he felt that entire massive rod invading his throat with each thrust of Coach’s hips.
It felt so right. Charlie was right where he wanted to be, and his anxiety vanished; he was no longer worried about being caught, or about being teased, or about Coach Thickman thinking him less of a man. All Charlie wanted to do was swallow down every inch of his mean and every drop of his cumload.
“Alright, if you ready, bend over, boy,” Coach Thickman said, murmuring softly. He pulled his dick out and gently guided Charlie into position.
At first, Charlie didn’t know if he wanted to do this. He hadn’t really thought about taking it in the ass. Was this how people normally did that the first time? He didn’t know. He wanted to come up with reasons not to do it, but his mind couldn’t come up with any.
The only downside, he thought, was that it would hurt the first time, or so he assumed. When he felt his ass stretch, however, the pain was not bad at all. Coach Thickman’s cock was lubed up with spit (and a little actual lube that Coach Thickman had brought for precisely this sort of occurrence).
“Oh god!” Charlie gritted his teeth. There was potent pressure, like he needed to shit but couldn’t. That sensation only gradually loosened as he felt more and more dickmeat cram into his tight hole.
He wasn’t sure he could keep doing this. The feelings were so powerful he couldn’t even speak. All he could do was wrench his head and let out a meek, wordless howl that made Coach Thickman chuckle. His dick twitched in Charlie’s ass.
“I’m all the way in ya now, boy,” Coach Thickman said with a grunt. He smacked Charlie’s cheek, sending a shiver of pleasure through his body. “We’s makin’ love.”
“Oooooh….” Charlie’s voice broke. He tried to stroke himself off, but he couldn’t focus enough. His asshole and prostate commanded all of his attention.
He didn’t need to jack himself off though. As Coach Thickman slammed into him, his hands roamed over Charlie’s body and soon reached around to his cock.
With Charlie on all fours, Coach Thickman gave him a reacharound. He slammed his dick in with all the power he could muster — that was why Thickman cornholed men so much, they didn’t complain when you rammed it in, not like women did — until his balls made a pleasing thwack sound every time they slapped against Charlie’s body.
“Alright, boy, we gonna blow our nut in a minute,” Coach Thickman said, showering Charlie’s tense face and neck with kisses. His deep gravelly voice resonated in Charlie’s ear. “Ya hear me? You might feel all kinda bad feelin’s afterwards. You might start thinkin’ you you less of a man. Don’t think none of those things. What we doin’ here ain’t no thing, ain’t nothin’ you gotta ever think about again.”
“Yes, Coach,” Charlie’s voice was tense and pinched. He moaned as his cock throbbed an orgasm erupted inside him.
“This is just lust. We just actin’ on feelings, and we ain’t gotta think ’bout that lust again, not till those feelings appear once more. Ya feel me?”
“Yes, Coach.”
Cum sprayed into Charlie’s ass, great big gobs of it that coated his insides and seeped through his belly. Charlie was so focused on that pleasure deep within him that he barely noticed his own orgasm or the jets of cum he shot onto the ground and Coach Thickman’s wrist.
They kept going. Charlie was nearly totally limp, unable to process the potent pleasure wracking his body, but Coach Thickman didn’t slow down at all. He kept slamming his cock in and out of Charlie’s ass, making a big frothy mess of cum that formed a puddle on the ground.
At last he was done. Charlie’s mind reeled as he collapsed and Coach Thickman pulled out.
“Ah, shit, shit,” Charlie said with a grunt. He tried to stand but his knees were weak. Coach Thickman helped him up.
“You alright, boy?”
“Fine.” Charlie blushed. “Good. Cool. Fine.”
“Shush. C’mon, boy, we gotta go take a shower. Remember, ain’t nothin’ happened. If anyone asks, we came back here to share a cigarette we ain’t want the others to see us smoke,” Coach Thickman said. “You ready?”
“Yeah. I’m ready,” Charlie said. “Next time we have an away game-“
“Hush, boy. We’ll worry about that the next time I see you back here.”

The Champion of Diversity

When Avery has to go in for a diversity class, he didn’t think he’d be sharing it with an alpha male soccer jock. But Pierce Rippence doesn’t understand the difference between a Christmas party and a holiday party, meaning he’s in the same diversity class as Avery, leading to a hardcore conclusion bursting with man-on-man diversity-respecting action!

Read it now as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Avery couldn’t decide if it was good or bad that he was the only person in the classroom. He had assumed there would be others. That was rather implied by the word “class”, after all. Otherwise, wasn’t it technically a “session”? That’s what he would have called it.
Regardless, Avery had to spend his whole Saturday learning about diversity in order to return to campus after Christmas break (or rather, “Winter Break”, as the school sternly insisted it was called). All this started because of a dumb joke he made about Puerto Rican men being argumentative.
At Goldendale Hills University, making a joke was a serious offense. Avery was hauled before a tribunal that cast judgement on him with all the fury of an angry cat lady, and he was sentenced to an entire Saturday of diversity training. An argumentative Puerto Rican might have felt stigmatized, the Vice-Dean of Student Inclusion and Indigenous Ways of Knowing had said, speaking so seriously that Avery had to hold back a laugh. Even now he giggled thinking about it.
In the classroom was just Avery and the instructor, a perky young chowder-white woman with a big smile and empty eyes. She kept staring at Avery as though he was a flower of infinite beauty unfolding with the wisdom of the ancients. Avery pretended not to notice. He wasn’t sure what facial expression he was supposed to use: chagrined, annoyed, bored, racist, ashamed, unrepentant? Nothing seemed quite right.
Finally she cleared her throat. “Okay, well, I guess you’re the only one this week. Welcome to Diversity Awareness, Acknowledgement of Harms in as to and regarding Inclusion, Surveying Inappopriate Attitudes and Combatting Social Ills, -Phobias and Intersectional Bigotries. Hot dog, that’s a mouthful!” she said that with the cadence of a joke and waited for laughter, seemingly unaware that her audience was only one or that that wasn’t a joke. Or was it? Then she laughed out loud, very loud, like she was competing with other laughers and needed to win. Avery looked around the classroom. No one was here. Had she made a joke? “My name is Margaret Sole, and today we’re going to explore what it means to be aware, diverse and inclusive. Just the two of us. That’s wonderful. That’ll really give us a chance to get into the nitty-gritty of it all.”
Avery nodded. Margaret looked at him like she was expecting a response, so he supported his head in his hands and said, “Hmm…”
“That’s right, thanks so much for that,” Margaret said. Again, her plastic cheer came across like it was aimed at some invisible supporter in the room. Avery looked around to see who she could be responding to. She didn’t have an earpiece in, and there was nobody Zooming in on a laptop or anything like that.
She cocked her head to the side. “And what’s your name?”
“Avery Flowers.”
“Avery, that’s fantastic, really it is, I love that name,” she said. She ticked a box on her clipboard with a flourish, like she really wanted someone to be impressed with the skill she used to tick off Avery’s attendance. “I love names, I really do.”
Who loves names?! Avery tried not to look disgusted at that. What does it even mean to love names?! How boring does someone have to be before that seems like a viable way to seem more interesting?
The door opened, and a frat boy walked in. He was short and athletic, and with a high-energy sort of machismo like he was making up for being short, and he must play some kind of running-based sport — maybe track and field — because his legs were like the legs of a racehorse stallion ten times his size, he could support a barge on those things. Despite that, he had the casual vibe of a hackeysack-enthused stoner, along with deep dimples and a smarmy grin. Avery instantly thought he was handsome, but he could tell that Margaret was turned off — he had that trying-too-hard charm that came from having always been the most popular, outgoing guy around. Avery wanted to taste his dick right away, while Margaret, he assumed, wanted to nothing more than to avoid getting hit on.
He was on the GHU soccer team, as it turned out. Avery didn’t follow soccer or he would have recognized him. He was well-known on campus and even off it.
That explained the calves too. The young man had legs like cannons.
“Yo, hey, ma’am, how you doin’?” He smacked his lips as though he might hit on Margaret. “I’m Pierce Rippence.” He flashed her a dimpled grin. “Hmmm… You’re a good teacher, miss, I can already tell.” He nodded hello at Avery and sat right next to him. He sat perfectly still, miming as an ‘attentive student’ for her benefit. He looked up at her with the rapturous eyes of a toddler watching his favorite teacher.
“Okay, well, thank you, Pierce,” the teacher said. “You missed my beginning spiel, it’s so important, so I’m going to go over it again.”
Avery didn’t understand that, because she hadn’t yet said any spiel or anything really. All she’d said was the name of the course and that she likes names.
But he didn’t want to say anything that might result in this class being any longer than it was, so he let Margaret repeat her “spiel”, which turned out to be the name of the class. She again said, “Hot dog, that’s a mouthful!” afterwards and again seemed to think that was a joke. She again waited for someone to respond as though it was a joke, then laughed like someone had done so. This time, Pierce looked around the room in search of someone who could explain what was amusing about all of this.
At least she didn’t re-explain that she liked names. Pierce remained forever ignorant of that fact about Margaret Sole.
Her “spiel” thankfully complete, Margaret began a whole new spiel. “Today we’re going to really come to understand what diversity and tolerance are. First off, can we talk a bit about what brought you both here to us today?”
Avery kind of zoned out then. He listened to Pierce’s explain his faux pas that led to this punishment — he had disobeyed the student government by promoting a campus party as a “Christmas party” instead of a “Winter Party”. Avery explained his dumb Puerto Rican joke, which didn’t even make sense out of context. Pierce didn’t respond, but about two minutes later he busted out laughing, turned around and said, “hey, I just got that, bro. Hilarious shit!”
The teacher frowned, her first unenthusiastic expression. “No, no, no, that was not ‘hilarious shit’. It was highly offensive to Puerto Ricans, especially those who are not argumentative. Personality traits are a highly racialized issue-“
“Uh, Miss? The Vice-Dean said it was offensive to argumentative Puerto Ricans. You say it’s offensive to non-argumentative Puerto Ricans,” Avery said.
“Yes, well…! Twice as bad then,” Margaret said.
Once the class got underway, Avery sat as quietly as possible, and he answered every question he could with whatever Margaret was looking for. While it was obvious Avery wasn’t taking this seriously, Pierce was luckily even more silly, so Avery seemed less problematic by comparison. He even filled out the “test” at the end with all of the blatantly correct answers. Pierce made a game of getting several wrong and making her explain obvious answers, like he insisted that Sri Lanka was a fictional place, like Xanadu or El Dorado, until she got out a map and showed him.
“It doesn’t sound like a real country,” Pierce said. “It sounds ridiculous. Sri Lanka.”
Avery tried very hard not to laugh. “I think I heard that too, Margaret. Like people used to think it was real-“
“It’s definitely real. It’s on the map.”
“I saw a map of Middle-Earth. Is that real?” Avery asked.
“Yep!” Pierce said. “Middle Earth is the equator. The equator is in the middle of Earth.”
“No. No, that’s made up, that’s-“
“The middle of Earth is a core of molten hot magma,” Avery said.
“Sri Lanka is definitely real,” she said. “So many people with racialized identities struggle with the validity of their homelands. It’s so important to treat these issues with respect-“
“That’s why I support the Republican Party,” Avery said. “Only the Republicans promise to fight against validity.”
“No, validity is a good thing — that’s — that’s not how-“
“My mom had validity once,” Pierce said. A smile flickered over his face. “It got real bad.”
Avery reached over to Pierce’s desk and gave his hand a supportive squeeze. “I’m so sorry, that’s awful.”
“I think you two are being silly now,” Margaret said. “There are students in this very school from Sri Lanka.”
“Name three.”
She paused and cocked her head to the side. Then she said, “No, that’s, that’s… that’s tokenism.” She shook her head, making her blue-dyed asymmetrical haircut tremble. “And that’s bad.” She sighed deeply, then took some forms off the stack of papers attached to her clipboard. “Since you both completed the course, I’m going to give you a certificate declaring you a Champion of Diversity-“
“Yes! A certificate?!” Pierce pounded on his desk with a big grin on his face. “My niggas are gonna be so jealous-“
“No, Pierce-!”
Avery laughed harder than he had ever laughed at anything. It was a double-edged sword, because when Avery and Pierce had stopped laughing at Margaret’s relentless sputtering, they then had to sit through a supplemental course in “n-word” use. Avery very nearly refused. He’d completed the course he’d been ordered to, but he figured she would just take away his next Saturday if he raised a fuss over it. Pierce seemed to reach a similar conclusion, and he too sat through it.
This time, neither of them made jokes. Pierce must have regretted prolonging this. Still, that laugh was worth it. Avery had to hold back snickers when he thought about it.
Finally, at the end of the afternoon, after six and a half hours of training, Margaret signed both Champion of Diversity certificates and told Pierce and Avery they needed to turn it into the Student Life Center in order to lift their suspensions. Avery wanted to point out that he wasn’t allowed in the Student Life Center while suspended, meaning he couldn’t turn in the certificate without violating his suspension.
But pointing that out would only drag this out even longer, so Avery kept his objections quiet.
At last it was all over, and Avery walked out of there with his certificate of completion. Pierce did too, though Avery could tell that more jokes thrummed beneath the surface. If he didn’t have a frat party to get to tonight, he would have continued teasing Margaret.
“Hey, can I show you something?” Avery asked when they left the classroom. Margaret stayed in there as though she had clean-up to do, though nothing had happened that would require a clean-up. Avery and Pierce headed towards the front of the building. “Come on, you’ll like it.”
Pierce shrugged. He followed Avery down the stairs and into the building’s basement, where Avery knew very well there was a storage area that the janitors rarely visited. This building was entirely unused on weekends (aside from the diversity classes, apparently), so the basement was a dingy empty maze of corridors beset by the constant hum of a weary old air conditioner.
“Man, that lady was crazy, bro. Did you hear her talking about Abijorins? What the fuck was that?”
“Yeah, she was reading a thing about Australian Aborigines I think, they’re real people,” Avery said.
“Oh, yeah, I’ve heard of Aborigines! There’s no such thing as Abijorins?”
“I don’t think so,” Avery said. “I don’t think she was very smart.”
“Of course not, bro. If she was smart, she’d have a better job,” Pierce said.
“I’m pretty sure she’s a diversity volunteer.”
Pierce stopped short. He screwed up his eyebrows. “Damn, bro. A volunteer?!”
“I know, shit’s fucked up,” Avery said. He opened the door to a supply closet. It was big and mostly empty — the only thing stored here was folding chairs, hundreds of them in long rows. Pierce looked around as though he might see something exciting, and he frowned.
“Why’d you bring me here?”
“I wanted to see if you were horny,” Avery said. He sunk to his knees. “Because you should know I can jerk you off better than any female. You looked horny in there.”
Pierce chuckled and turned bright red. “Better than a girl? Yeah, right, man.”
“Let me prove it,” Avery said. “I’ll take you out to dinner.”
“Like a date? No way,” Pierce said.
“I’ll give you cash, I just want to-“
Pierce blurted out, “Will you pay for the keg rental this weekend for my frat?”
“A keg? That’s a lot more expensive than one dinner,” Avery said. He pretended to think hard for a long time as he slowly undid Pierce’s belt and lowered his pants. “Fine,” he said. “One keg this weekend. Not Miller Lite though, because I’m coming to the party and I hate Miller Lite.”
“We don’t drink that shit,” Pierce said. “Make it Natty Bo.”
“Seriously? That’s what you drink?” Avery chuckled.
“It’s a Maryland tradition, man!”
“So’s catching crabs from a plus-size stripper. But fine, whatever, Natty Boh it is,” Avery said. He unzipped the fly of Pierce’s pants and reached in to get his dick. It was hot and moist with sweat, and Pierce sucked in his breath like he thought Avery would say no. Avery very nearly did. But he wasn’t gonna let this Saturday be that dull.
Pierce’s cock popped out the fly of his sagging pants, and Avery kissed it on the tip. Pierce closed his eyes and turned his baseball cap around backwards. He wrinkled his nose and spread his legs like he was preparing for a fight. He grumbled to himself as the flavor of his musty cock assaulted Avery’s senses, and Avery ran his tongue up and down the shaft.
“Hmmm… That does feel pretty good, bro,” he said. “But girls are still better-“
“I’m just gettin’ started. You gotta gimme a chance to show you what I can do,” Avery said.
Pierce shrugged and nodded, and he shifted his weight between his feet. As Avery deep-throated the shaft, Pierce let out a nervous little shimmy, and his dick twitched in Avery’s maw. Pierce said, “Hey, do you think that teacher would fuck me?”
Avery rolled his eyes. “No, Pierce. That’s very unlikely,” he said. He began slurping on the shaft, and Pierce gasped. Avery slathered spit up and down Pierce’s cock, his hand gently but firmly squeezing the root. It was long and thick, meaty even before it firmed up, which it did slowly.
“Oh. Shit… I, uh… Oh!” Pierce was about to say something else, but he sucked in his breath and held back a nervous laugh. “Oh, I, uh… You’re like… really… into that…” His dick twitched in Avery’s mouth. “Damn, man… I swear though, that Margaret chick was totally into me. She was groovin’ on me. Did you see how she touched my shoulder when we was doing that role-play, bro?”
Avery took the dick out of his throat long enough to make eye contact with him. “She was roleplaying a gropey boss. She was not into you.” He thwacked Pierce’s cock all over his face.
“Yeah, but like, she was really groping. She was all up on my shoulder,” he said. He pointed ot the part of his shoulder she touched. “I think I should ask her out. Maybe she likes to suck dick, you don’t know. She said sexual expression was one of the whatevers.”
“She also thinks Australia is full of Abijorins, Pierce. If she knew literally anything, she’d have a better way to occupy her time, and if you ask her to suck your dick, you are going to be taking diversity classes until the end of the time,” Avery said. He kept chasing Pierce’s dick with his tongue. “Do not do that.”
“Can I invite her to the party? There’s nothing wrong with going to a party.”
“But she’ll see something offensive at the party, Pierce!”
“Like what?”
“Like any of an infinite number of things! Drunk people kissing. Non-organic food. Ethnic decor. Disrespectful treatment of kitchen magnets. I’m guessing a dog that gets shotguns of kind bud. And what are the chances someone in your frat will call someone else a retard?”
He sighed and nodded reluctantly.
“So don’t do it,” Avery said. He had both hands on Pierce’s fully erect cock now, and it pulsated in his grip. “If you want to get your nut off, call me. But I only pay the first time, so don’t try to make more money off me.”
“Ah, man… I really wanted her to suck my dick,” Pierce said. He let out a long chest-rattling sigh.
“Well I’d feel bad if you end up having to learn about diversity again, Pierce, so I have to advise you against that,,” Avery said. He thwacked Pierce’s erection over his face. It was veiny and firm but not yet precummy. “If you’re done talking, can I get back to your dick?”
“Yeah…” He paused. “Can you get some girl drinks too? Like Smirnoff Ice?”
Avery didn’t answer, he just resumed licked Pierce’s shaft from root to tip. He had a feeling that the more he let Pierce talk, the more Pierce would ask for. Pierce’s dick was hard and throbbing, and once Avery got back to tasting it, salty precum began leaking out. Avery loved playing with that, smearing it over his own face as well as Pierce’s cockshaft. Every time he thwacked Pierce’s dick against his face, Pierce’s whole body jerked like he hadn’t expected it.
Deep-throating it to the root, Avery nuzzled his nose in Pierce’s pubic bush. That made Pierce stand on his toes as his knees weakened, and he sucked in his breath. “Daaamn, man!” he chuckled. “You should give lessons.”
Avery giggled around the cock in his throat, but he didn’t stop. He choked up mouthfuls of spit that ran down Pierce’s shaft and soaked his crotch and his long-hanging balls.
“Man… There’s a Jew in my frat who celebrates Christmas,” Pierce blurted out like he was tattling on a wrongdoer. He looked away, biting his lip.
Avery looked up at him without stopping swallowing Pierce’s dick to the root. He rolled his eyes. Pierce didn’t even look at him. He grabbed Avery’s ears and held on as he drilled his cock in deeper. He seemed to be talking on autopilot now, like he either didn’t notice he was talking or didn’t notice he was sort of fucking Avery’s throat like it was a diversity counselor’s pussy.
“I think he does. I mean he doesn’t complain when we put up a Christmas tree and shit,” Pierce said. His dick pulsated in Avery’s throat. “You know, there’s nothing literally Christian about a Christmas tree, it’s not a Jesus tree. They should make a Hannukah tree. That would solve everything! Why don’t the Jews do that?”
Avery tried to shake his head without stopping, but he didn’t think Pierce realized Avery was saying no. Pierce was totally ignoring Avery now — talking to him, but paying no attention as Avery gulped down his cock by the throatful.
With a gurgling murmur of desire, Pierce’s eyes bugged out as he lightbulbed up an idea, still seemingly unaware of his cock in Avery’s throat or the intense pleasure coursing through his body as a result. “I should do that. I could sell Hannukah trees, man, I’ll make millions. Jews aren’t anti-tree, are they? Are trees kosher?” Pierce said. “And what’s that black people thing? Kwanzaa? Do they have trees? They should have trees too, bro. I’ll tell Margaret that.” He paused. “Hey, wait, bro, I’m gonna nut, you wanna swallow it?”
Avery nodded, a few tears beading up at the corner of his eyes as he struggled to deep-throat him without choking too hard. His hands roamed up and down Pierce’s soccer-toned frame.
“Sweet, cool, brah, girls never wanna swallow,” Pierce said. He closed his eyes and leaned against the wall of the storage area, holding on tightly to Avery’s head. He drilled his dick in and out and finally seemed fully engrossed, not thinking of ways to hit on the diversity woman. He almost looked surprised at his own orgasm, like he had forgotten it was a man and not Margaret on his dick.
Avery’s hands reached up to Pierce’s chest as he came, and Avery could feel his orgasm in the roiling tension in his muscles. Pierce wasn’t bulky, but he was athletic, and his ropy muscles all flexed at once beneath his shirt as his balls crawled up in his sac.
“Damn, brah…”
Pierce threw his head back and moaned. Creamy hot cum shot out and hit the back of Avery’s mouth. It seeped down his gullet and into his belly, and Avery guzzled down every drop. He didn’t want to spill any. Young men always had such a bright and sunshiney flavor to their cum. He swallowed every bit he could, only a few drops spilling out and trickling down to his chin.
A loud throaty moan escaped from Pierce’s throat. His cheeks turned red, and he held onto Avery’s head until his dick was fully limp. Then at last he let go, and his cock popped out. Avery chased it with his tongue as he gasped, because whenever he touched it, Pierce’s whole body shook and he let out another moan.
“Awright, brah, you’re done, okay?” Pierce said. He took a deep breath and put his dick back. “Hey, let’s go reserve that keg now, brah, okay?” He paused. “If my frat brothers ask, will you tell them I did some work for you? Like I cleaned your house or something? Not that, something cool. Like I beat up a dude for you, like some dude tried to rob you and I beat him up.”
“Yeah, fine,” Avery said. “But you gotta let me frot with you. I gotta bust my nut too.”
“Frot?”
“You never heard of that?” Avery blushed and laughed. He pulled down his pants and took his dick out, then he thwacked his hardon against Pierce’s soft, spongy cock. Pierce jumped when he did, like Avery’s cock hurt, which given how firm it was and how sensitive Pierce’s was, it might well have done.
But Avery always enjoyed a good frotting, and Pierce’s blushing anxiety made it even more arousing for him. Pierce kept shifting his weight between his feet, as Avery stroked both cocks together. Pierce’s was so sensitive that it throbbed and his knees kept going weak when Avery touched the tip.
“Oh god, man, shit, shit, you really are into that, bro, huh?” Pierce looked down at his dick like it was betraying him, and he grabbed a row of paper towls he found on a shelf in the supply closet, but he couldn’t clean himself off yet because Avery was spewing precum into his crotch.
His cock pulsating in his grasp, Avery stroked both dicks in both of his hands, then let go with his right hand so he could go back to groping every inch of Pierce’s lithe soccer-toned chest. His torso was much less muscular than his magnificent legs, but Avery still liked the way his pecs rippled when Avery touched them.
Pierce was so embarrassed he looked like he might explode as Avery finally reached his own orgasm, and pleasure exploded up and down Avery’s taut little both. Avery shot his wad into Pierce’s pubes, a vast flow of it that soaked his entire crotch in cream.
Pierce chuckled and laughed, as he raced to dot the jizz up with a wadded up bit of paper towel.
“You should let me swing on your dick again at the party.”
“Man, there’ll be girls there… Maybe that Margaret-“
“No! Do not invite her, Pierce! You will be back in that diversity class next weekend, and I am not gonna jack you off afterwards again,” Avery said. They both headed for the door.
“Fine… I won’t invite her to the stupid Christmas party,” he said.
“Pierce… You have to call it a Winter Party,” Avery said. “We just spent hours learning that.” He patted Pierce on the ass. “It’s a good thing you’re handsome, sweetie, because you are dumb.”
“That’s what my mom says…”
Avery laughed as they walked out of the building. He had a car and enough money he could put a deposit down on a keg without checking an ATM first, which, as far as Pierce was concerned, made Avery wealthy. He was impressed. Avery didn’t disabuse him of that notion, he just headed home to get ready to go to this frat party.

Mainly just the Arabs took the actual barracks, and Steel won’t comment on they body hair cuzza the diversity.

Mainly just the Arabs took the actual barracks, and Steel won’t comment on they body hair cuzza the diversity.

From Winston Steel & the White Man

Winston Steel & the White Man

Steel’s an alcoholic, an ex-con and an alpha male with mixed feelings about white men. His years in prison, dealing drugs and working on an oil rig have given him plenty of opportunities to form opinions on ’em. And he’s ready to share ’em all!

But that’s not the only thing he’s gonna share. Steel’s had legions of man-on-man experiences at the top and on bottom. He’s done it all, and you’re about to get every one of the macho, manly, hardcore and raunchy details!

Read it now!

If it ain’t Christ, it ain’t right!

They was something, and whatever they was, it wasn’t right.

“Ohh-zshoo-woo-joo!” One of ’em said, or sumpin’ similar, Steel don’t listen to no Haitian voodoo. If it ain’t Christ, it ain’t right! But Steel did watch the video about respecting diversity on the oil rig, and he ain’t tell the Haitians they was some devil-worshipping pagans. Maybe. Steel don’t actually know what “pagan” means. But they was something, and whatever they was, it wasn’t right.

From Steel the Roughneck

Damn, there’s lotta kinds of whiteboys out there!

He done inquisit regarding Mucker’s so-called friends, who was parta the “skater scene”. Also, Steel learned about the skater scene.
It sounded like a buncha drinky-dinky whiteboys to Steel, most likely druggie-do-’ems too, but Mucker assured him that that was not a necessary parta “the scene”.

Steel droned on about the importance of having safe and healthy hobbies to do with your safe and healthy friends. He done inquisit regarding Mucker’s so-called friends, who was parta the “skater scene”. Also, Steel learned about the skater scene.
It sounded like a buncha drinky-dinky whiteboys to Steel, most likely druggie-do-’ems too, but Mucker assured him that that was not a necessary parta “the scene”. Lotta ’em are straight-edge, Mucker said. Also, Steel learned about “straight-edge”. Damn, there’s lotta kinds of whiteboys out there! They don’t teach that in schools! A nigga only learn it on the streets!

From Steel & the Whiteboy Skater

Lots of things wrinkle Buck’s brain

They learnt from a mandatory video that the most important part of drilling fer oil was respeck fer diversity.

Whatever status made Habib hafta put Buck’s and Lem’s feet in his mouth, it might as well be slavery. They ain’t ax cuz they ain’t wanna be distolerant of his culture — they learnt from a mandatory video that the most important part of drilling fer oil was respeck fer diversity.
Imagine that! The most important part! That wrinkled Buck’s brain.

From Buck on the Oil Rig