during the nighttime – Mansploitation

The Pilot

Teddy works for a billionaire on a charter flight, but when it turns out to be just him and the pilot sharing a hotel room and a bed, Teddy is in for the alpha-male pilot service experience of his dreams!

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Teddy was glad to buckle up when the plane glided to the ground at the airstrip in Bucket Hole. He was ready to move on with the plan. This part was easy. The flight took a long time, since this little old charter plane couldn’t go real fast. Teddy’s ass was sore, his legs were tired and his mind was going crazy for lack of stimulation. He was glad to have arrived in the town of Bucket Hole, which was aptly named, as looked like the kind of run-down-company-town without-a-company where you probably couldn’t find anything worth buying, the kind of town that produces nothing but buckets with holes in them.
Bucket Hole wasn’t much of a town, but it had a small dusty airstrip. It was about thirty miles from an oil field, which was the only reason anyone used the airstrip. That airstrip was the only reason Bucket Hole was still a town. When that oil field dried up eventually, the airstrip would be abandoned, and the town of Bucket Hole would fade away like a forgotten film.
The CEO of Blinkendale Energy was Charlie Walthenham, and it was he who had chartered the flight. Mr. Walthenham had arranged for Teddy to bring gourmet food from his country club — the Rockhard Country Club. Serving that food was essentially the only reason to have a flight attendant on the flight, since Mr. Walthenham could serve his own drinks (he merely drank his scotch neat). So he had hired Teddy from the country club to serve as his flight attendant.
Not a big stretch for Teddy, who used to work as an an actual flight attendant and knew well how to serve that food, because that was what he did at the country club every day. This was the same thing, but it came with a free trip to Wyoming.
It hadn’t become apparent until too late that there was literally no reason to go to Bucket Hole except to strike it rich in oil, and there was no chance of Teddy becoming a roughneck. It wasn’t worth what Mr. Walthenham was paying him.
The plane landed amid a cloud of dust on that airstrip. It was going well, Teddy thought, he looked like a real flight attendant. He even managed to look like he dreaded spending the night in this one-horse town. He emphasized his discomfort with the situation in hopes of inspiring Mr. Walthenham to give him a big tip at the end of the weekend. That might make make this whole thing worth the time.
Usually on these kind of small-plane short charter flights, the pilot didn’t wear the typical pilot’s uniform. Usually the flight attendant didn’t either, but Teddy wanted to look as professional as possible. The pilot seemed to have the same idea. He was tall and a bit of redneck, but only in a tasteful way, a slight twang in his voice, no holler, no trace of a trailer park. He was the kind of redneck people can trust, with broad-shoulders that filled out his uniform nicely. His name was Wyatt Kettenhauer, and he had a gorgeous head of raven hair that made Teddy’s heart skip a beat. He looked young, which Teddy thought might turn Mr. Walthenham off, but he did look solid. He exuded competence, and he was as handsome as a politician.
Wyatt even came out once the plane landed and stood there in the cabin next to Teddy. They both held in their breath, standing at attention as Mr. Walthenham waddled fatly off, yelling at some poor soul on his cell phone. Wyatt made eye contact with Teddy, but both stayed at attention like soldiers.
“You had better get it done, asshole, I’m not waiting another day! I want motherfucking results, or I will come down there to St. Louis and ram my foot so far up your ass you could snort coke off my pinkie toe!” Mr. Walthenham strode out, seemingly not noticing Wyatt or Teddy at all.
They waited until he was good and gone. Since the airstrip was so small, that meant waiting until he left the tarmac entirely.
“Phew! I tell you one thing,” Wyatt said, taking off his cap when they were truly away from Mr. Walthenham. “That man is frightening with a capital F and a capital U. E’ry time I land the plane with him on it, I breathe a sigh of relief, cuz I just know he could have me pistol-whipped for makin’ it a bumpy ride.” His Western twang was peal-y like a mockingbird, his voice a slow rumble like a cowboy, which Teddy soon realized he was, underneath that pilot’s uniform. Or at least he had grown up on a ranch and fancied himself a cowboy, right down to the well-worn cowboy hat when he was back at home. “If you don’t mind me, Teddy, my good man, I’m gonna get find some fine slice of womanhood and see if I can’t plow her furrows.”
“Yes, sir.” Teddy was disappointed in both his desire and his metaphor. Teddy wanted to spend time with Wyatt, whose handsome face and alluring stature got Teddy excited. Teddy was a keen appreciator of a well-formed male physiqye, and Wyatt Kettenhauer was an exemplar of the masculine shape.
Teddy left the plane after tidying up and getting it ready for the return trip. Wyatt the pilot headed into the rinky-dink airport, but Teddy hung behind. He didn’t want it to be obvious he was following Wyatt.
In a tiny airstrip like this one and in a tiny town like Bucket Hole, it should be easy, Teddy thought, to not look like a stalker. There was probably only one motel, only one bar (if that), not that many places a ranch-hand floozy might hang out — that was the kind of woman Teddy thought Wyatt was likely to be after. There was no way to hide in a town like this, and there were hardly going to be multiple women available.
Or maybe the place would be crawling with loose women, given the roughnecks that came through on a regular basis en route to that oil field. They no doubt came out on leave with full balls and cooped-up stiffies. Teddy knew the type. As Teddy moseyed to the hotel though, it looked like there was literally nobody in this podunk little burg.
“How many vacancies have you got?” Teddy asked when he came in the front lobby and approached the desk.
“One,” said the waify, bored-looking clerk. He didn’t look at the computer screen.
“I’ll rent it. Is it a single?”
“Yes, sir,” said the clerk.
Teddy nodded. That was good. He was confident Wyatt hadn’t rented a room first, he most likely went straight out to get laid. Men like Wyatt were like that. He wouldn’t even think about a place to stay tonight until he actually needed it. The clerk handed over the key. He didn’t bother to tell Teddy in which direction the room was. Teddy used to be a hotel clerk, so he mentally deducted one star from his rating for this place.
Not that this was the kind of hotel that cared abouts it rating. There was literally no competition. It was either sleep in the hotel or get eaten by a bear, so the clerk’s hospitality only had to be greater than that of a hungry bear.
The room was drab and dreary. It wasn’t dirty, or at least not actively so, but it was hardly clean either. It was coated in a layer of dinge. But at least it didn’t smell like urine or blood, Teddy thought, which sometimes happened in these tiny motels. Once they get a bad stain, it never goes away, because management won’t spend what it takes. The bed was surprisingly comfortable, and the bathroom was clean, which was what was most important for Teddy. He could deal with the rest.
He settled back to relax and wait for Wyatt to be visible from his vantage point in front of his room, where he could see much of the main street in this town. The clerk inside the lobby kept watching Teddy, trying to figure out his game.
But Teddy just watched the dullness develop as day turned to night, and the moon’s long darkness spread over the landscape. There was the town’s bar too. Teddy couldn’t make out the name on the sign. After a long time trying to decipher it from this far away, Teddy just googled it.
The Clean Pipe. Sounds like a biker bar, he thought. It didn’t even have a proper website though. Just a Facebook page last updated seven months ago.
He soon saw Wyatt coming out of the bar. He staggered out shouting at someone inside, like he had just gotten in a fight and been kicked out — he hadn’t been in there long enough to get drunk though, or at least not real drunk. He sighed and came towards the motel.
Teddy left the hotel room and waited outside as casually as he could muster. He nodded to Wyatt, who had a visible erection in his tight pilot’s uniform slacks. It bulged against the fabric, and Wyatt gave it a squeeze through his clothes as he walked. He must have gotten in trouble with a woman, Teddy thought. Wyatt went to the clerk in the window, ignoring Teddy.
Soon, Wyatt’s deep voice filtered out into the night-time air. “No vacancies! What are you talking about? No one ever comes to this shit-heel of a town! How could you be full?”
Finally, Wyatt came out with an angry snarl. He glared at Teddy, then his snarl brightened into a smile. He walked over to him. “Hey, did you get a room?”
Teddy nodded.
“Can we share? I couldn’t get one. This one-horse town is down to a half-a-horse, and it’s sickly,” Wyatt said. “There was one girl in that bar and she was a prude. She wouldn’t even talk to me!” He threw his hands in the air, then winced because the motion caused pain in his sensitive cock. His erection appeared to have diminished a bit, but there was still a noticeable bulge in his tight pants.
“There’s only one bed, but we can share,” Teddy said with a casual shrug. He sniffed Wyatt’s breath. No alcohol. “Are you drunk?”
He shook his head. “I’m not drinking tonight. Mr. Walthenham seems like the kinda man who might wake me up in the middle of the night cuz he wants to leave early. I gotta be sober as a Monday morning,” he said. He took a deep breath and looked up and down the main drag of Bucket Hole. “Well, I’m gonna go try to get laid. Nothing personal, but if I can, I’m not sleeping with you tonight. Don’t wait up.” Wyatt paused. “You wanna come with me?”
“No thanks, I’ve got a girlfriend,” Teddy said. He scribbled down his room number and passed it to Wyatt. “Come on in. I’ll leave the door unlocked.”
Wyatt scoffed like he didn’t get why a girlfriend should stop Teddy, but he accepted it. He headed down the street to see where else there might be some females. Teddy suspected he would have poor luck — in a tiny town like Bucket Hole, there were not likely to be many options as far as nightlife went. That bar he got kicked out of has gotta be the entirey of Bucket Hole’s nightlife. Probably there were more prostitutes when the roughnecks had leave.
But Wyatt was a charter pilot, and he saw the perks of that job as including all the fine women he met throughout the world. Ladies loved pilots. He could talk a woman out of her panties in virtually any city. He’d bedded (women who claimed to be) Saudi princesses, billionaires, Bruce Willis’s daughter, porn stars and supermodels.
But Bucket Hole, Montana, was proving to be difficult. There was no one here.
It was barely an hour after they separated when Wyatt knocked on the motel room door. He pushed right in when Teddy opened the door. He still had his cowboy hat on, and he removed it as he entered, then put it right back on. His cheeks were ruddy, and he chewed on his lips as he fumed.
“Goddamn this town sucks! You know it’s a dry town? Apparently liquor stores are illegal, there’s only one liquor license in town and it’s the bar that just kicked me out.”
“That sucks,” Teddy said. “I thought you weren’t drinking?”
“I’m not! It’s just an observation. No wonder there’s no nightlife here! There’s no minibar in this room either, is there?”
“No sir.”
“Well shit… I guess this is officially the most boring town in North America, huh, Teddy?” he said. He sighed. Then he glanced up at Teddy with a guilty grin. “Or maybe we’ll fool around when the lights go out, you know what they say — cowboys can do it in the dark, it don’t count, yee-haw!” He paused to gauge Teddy’s reaction. “And they say that about pilots too when they ain’t in they home time-zone, shit yeah!”
Teddy laughed along with him. He wasn’t sure how joking Wyatt was. Hopefully not at all.
Both of them settled into Teddy’s room, and Teddy was glad to have a chance to see Wyatt like this: casual, shirtless, brushing his teeth, taking a shower, putting on deodorant even just to go to bed, clipping his toenails. Wyatt talked, mostly about women, the whole time, and he badmouthed Mr. Walthenham, who hired him often but never learned his name. He kept calling him “Ryan Kettleman”.
Eventually, the night dragged on, and they put on a movie, some superhero thriller that seemed poorly edited for tv and didn’t entirely make sense to Teddy. He could barely follow it though, because Wyatt kept talking the whole way. Mainly he commented on the women onscreen and compared them to the women he had slept with. His conclusion was that he got hotter women than this movie starred. It annoyed the piss out of Teddy, who hated people who talked during movies. Wyatt was too handsome to be mad at though.
Finally, the movie was over, and Teddy was already half-asleep as he turned the light out. He could tell Wyatt was restless and didn’t want to go to bed just yet.
Wyatt paced for a moment quietly. He hadn’t gone to bed with neither sex nor alcohol, nor even weed, in a long time. He wasn’t an addict, he thought, but it was difficult to convince himself that he could go to bed horny and sober. It just didn’t feel right. Every time a woman appeared in his mind’s eye, his dick rocketed back to full erection, and Wyatt resumed pacing in the dark hotel room.
Eventually, he did lay down next to Teddy. Wyatt was used to a more comfortable bed than this. He rarely slept at home, as he usually was in hotels all around the world — wherever Mr. Walthenham needed to go — or sometimes in the bed of his latest female conquest.
Once he got under the covers just a few inches from Teddy, however, Wyatt realized he could satisfy his sexual urges as well. He genuinely thought of it as “not counting” in a situation like this, in a tiny town and a cramped motel. In pilot school, everybody had said it doesn’t count if you’re at least two time zones away from home. That meant cheating. It was okay to cheat on a wife if she was at least two time zones away.
But, Wyatt thought, it could apply to messing around “on the downlow”, as the black guys say. It would not be Wyatt’s first time. It would be his first time since becoming a pilot, however. Women threw themselves at pilots. So did men like Teddy.
“Hey, man…” Wyatt whispered, finally breaking the silence in the silentious motel room, the only sound being the whirr of the air conditioner. “You wanna jack off with me?” he asked with confidence, like he already knew the answer.
Which was true. He did know the answer. Wyatt had noticed Teddy checking him out all day, and he knew perfectly well Teddy wanted to swing on his dick. Most male flight attendants were that way.
“Hell yeah. I didn’t know you were into that,” Teddy said, hoping to sound coy instead of naive. His hands flitted over underneath the covers to Wyatt’s muscular chest, and Teddy scooted closer, so he could feel the solid warmth emanating from Wyatt’s body.
“I grew up on a ranch.” Wyatt chuckled dryly. “You know, out there you stick your dick wherever you can find a nice tight hole, ya feel me? Sheep run scared ’round my parts. Not that I ever partook, cuz I had females hanging off e’ry inch I got, ya feel me?” He patted Teddy on the head, and he gently pushed his head closer to Wyatt’s crotch.
“Uh-huh.” Teddy sighed and allowed Wyatt to move his head closer, putting up just a little resistance, like a nice woman would, just enough resistance to let Wyatt know this wasn’t an automatic gimme. Teddy kissed Wyatt on the treasure trail of body hair leading from his flat belly to his dick, and as Teddy moved lower and lower. He resisted Wyatt hurrying him down to his groin. Finally Wyatt’s half-hard dick collided with Teddy’s face. Wyatt let out a twanging moan as his dick touched Teddy’s hand. Teddy gripped that thick shaft and gave it a few strokes, then opened his mouth and kissed it, right on the tip.
Wyatt’s whole body buckled. He whispered “Yee-haw” again and laughed, very quietly, even though there was no way anyone could hear but Teddy. He pushed Teddy’s head lower on his dick.
“Yeah, man, put your mouth on it…”
Finally, Teddy did so, allowing his mouth the envelop Wyatt’s rapidly firming up cock. It pulsated like an alien beast, and his muscular chest rippled beneath Teddy’s fingertips. The taste of his dickshaft was clean and sweet, with a musky after-scent. He liked feeling Wyatt’s rock-hard meat exploring his throat, pushing all the way in until Teddy’s nose nuzzled Wyatt’s pubic hair.
Soon he was rock-hard, his cock throbbing on Teddy’s tongue. Wyatt moaned as he guided Teddy up and down, firmly but gently. Teddy’s tongue slathered spit up and down Wyatt’s rock-hard shaft, and the first few drops of salty, sun-bright precum hit Teddy’s tongue.
Much to Teddy’s surprise, Wyatt intended to return the favor — he assumed a macho pilot and boss like Wyatt would never reciprocate. He leaned down and stroked Teddy’s dick with one hand. It was a slow, lazy stroke, but it got Teddy hard, and soon both men leaked precum onto each other. It was almost, but not quite, a sixty-nine because Wyatt didn’t taste Teddy’s dick —where Wyatt came from, men could jack each other off in exchange for whatever or because they lost a bet, but swallowing a nut was too much. Wyatt wouldn’t do that. He could do almost anything else though. Teddy was not gonna complain.
“Hey, man, can I stick ya?” Wyatt asked, his voice soft and low, aimed directly into Teddy’s ear.
“You gotta gimme a reacharound,” Teddy said, gasping for more. He chased Wyatt’s cock with his mouth, but Wyatt kept moving it out of his way, already getting in position to go up Teddy’s ass, even though Teddy hadn’t agreed yet. Wyatt wasn’t used to anyone telling him no.
“Hell yeah, you oughta be a full-time flight attendant, yessuh. Pilots could use someone with a mouth like you. Women stewardesses are teases these days, I tells yah!” Wyatt said with a loud whoop, which he then muffled. “Sorry, that was loud.”
“No one can hear.” Teddy’s voice was huffy and plaintive, as he was desperate to get Wyatt’s manhood inside him.
“I know… This kinda thing is best done on the hush and in the dark, ya feel me?”
“Yeah…”
Wyatt slid behind Teddy and hefted his dick between his cheeks. Teddy’s asshole tingled, then the tip slid in. Teddy bit his lip as pleasure and pain both enveloped him in equal measure. This was happening faster than he thought it would. Despite the lack of any potential audience, Teddy still swallowed back a moan of pleasure, as sensations sparked up and down his body. Wyatt’s cock slammed into his prostate, both men moving as one as pleasure filled both men’s bodies.
The hum of the air conditioner outside the motel room seemed impossibly loud. Teddy couldn’t hear anything but that and Wyatt’s heavy breathing condensing on the back of his head, as Wyatt’s hands explored Teddy’s smooth chest. The intense pressure overwhelmed him, but gradually loosened with every passing second.
“Sssh… it’s okay,” Wyatt said, his low twang echoing in Teddy’s ear like a banjo. His hands roamed over Teddy’s body and then gripped his dick. A jolt of pleasure shout through Teddy. “I’m inside ya now, son…”
Teddy’s whole body tensed as more of Wyatt’s cock slid in, each centimeter sending a new wave of bliss to wrack his tiny frame. He clenched and bit down. Wyatt began slowly stroking him in sync with the gyrations of his hips. His balls slapped against Teddy’s thighs.
He kissed Teddy on the lips, and their tongues interlocked in Teddy’s mouth. Teddy let out a long, slow moan of pleasure. He couldn’t believe how good this felt. It continued for what felt like forever, and Teddy didn’t want it to end. He cried out and gasped. Wyatt moaned over and over, smiling, glad that he had gotten his rocks off after all, even without a girl. Teddy was probably tighter than any of the women in this town anyway.
Wyatt grunted and his body spasmed. Cum sprayed into Teddy’s ass, great gobs of it that filled him and coated his insides. Some of it dripped out and onto the mattress beneath him. A burst of it seeped into Teddy’s flesh, the creamy heat flowing into him like a river.
“Shit, boy… Hell yeah,” Wyatt said. Spasms of pleasure overwhelmed his body. His free hand tightened into claws that dug into Teddy’s body, while his other hand kept stroking Teddy into an impassioned orgasm. Bliss erupted in Teddy’s body, while Wyatt’s climax turned to a low moan that resonated in Teddy’s ear.
Teddy let out a sigh as he shot his own load into Wyatt’s hand. He felt a slow-burning orgasm that only grew as he came and Wyatt’s dick limpened inside him. Then he took it out. He kissed Teddy on the cheek, where his lips lingered as his hands ran up and down Teddy’s body.
The smell of cum filled the air. Wyatt smiled and pounded on his chest. He flexed his biceps too, as though there was a woman here to impress — of course there was only Teddy, and he didn’t even face the right way to see. Teddy sensed the flexing of his powerful muscles behind his back though, and he rubbed his smoothness on Wyatt’s powerful body.
“Shit…” Wyatt said again with a chuckle. “That was right nice, yessuh. I am sure glad I hooked up with you. You’re a good flight attendant.”
“I’m not even really a flight attendant,” Teddy said with a laugh.
Wyatt shrugged and settled back onto the motel bed. Teddy curled up next to him. He liked the solidity of Wyatt’s muscles and the warmth of his body heat as it suffused over him.
“You’re a good pilot,” Teddy said with a giggle. He snuggled up to Wyatt’s body. “Tomorrow, I might be available in the cargo area during the flight home. Maybe you could sneak back there when the plane’s on autopilot.?”
“That ain’t allowed,” Wyatt said with a shrug. “But if you treat me like that again, son, I’ll do whatevuh you want!”

The Workers

At this work camp, the men get their needs met one way or another…

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Neil thought the difficult part of this job would be living out in the middle of nowhere — literally. He worked for a mining company’s construction crew, building employee housing and other structures on a remote mountainside in southeastern Alaska. He and his fellow workers had been hired from all over the world and brought here to live in the woods. It would take most of a year to build, but at the end, almost an entire town would exist here where currently there was nothing.
But the isolation and boredom were not that big of a deal. After a few weeks, Neil got used to that. The guys he worked with were loud and outgoing, and more friendly than Neil would have thought. The middle of nowhere was okay when you had a couple dozen guys to live with.
It turned out, however, that the most difficult part of the job was taking a shower. There was no plumbing out here, of course, that was one of the things being built in this work camp. So they had to use a “hygiene tent” for showering.
The hygiene tent was simply a large, ordinary tent outside of camp, just like the tents Neil and the other workers lived in. The only thing that made the hygiene tent special was that it was rigged up with hoses as showerheads and had a constant campfire with coals out front to heat up the water before showers. It was living rough, but it was pretty nice as far as living rough went. Neil liked to camp, so it seemed fine to him, in the abstract.
It was difficult in practice, however, because Neil had to shower with others.
The idea hadn’t bothered him — he was on the baseball team in college, so he was used to changing in a group. But it was different here. In college, everyone had been embarrassed. They got naked as little as possible and they tried to avoid looking at each other. They showered as far away from each other as possible, without talking, and as quickly as they could. Nobody looked at each other’s cocks. Even hinting that you might have seen a buddy’s penis was considered an unpardonable offense.
Here, the men were older, rougher, many of them having spent time in prison. Others had been homeless for a time, some were recovering drug addicts, and one had spent years doing missionary work in Honduras. They were not self-conscious at all. Some of them got naked as soon as work was done for the day, and they just sat around drinking beer and scratching their balls.
That was not something Neil had ever experienced before. They thought nothing of it, just dropping trou and letting it all hang out. One man even had a big scar on his dick — Neil didn’t notice at first, of course, because he didn’t look, but then the others kept making jokes about how that man’s cock had been torn off by some “crazy chick”. Neil couldn’t help but look, it was just a joke, his cock was there, but scarred.
“Man, if a girl showed up here, swear to God… I don’t even care how crazy she is, I’d fuck the shit outta any female who gives up the pussy. She could be as fat as all hell, more cushion for the pushin’!”
“My pops used to do this kind of work, he said they used to send prostitutes to live here too. They were just part of the crew. Ain’t allowed to do that no mo’.”
Neil wasn’t used to people talking like that. He was from a nice middle-class household. Nobody spoke of prostitutes openly (or even in secret), and they certainly didn’t sit around stark naked. He tried to pretend to fit in though. The one time he got made fun of was when he saw two Confederate-flag-tatted rednecks take their limp cocks out and sword-fight with each other.
A gasp escaped from Neil’s lips at the sight of their rough old-man cocks rubbing against each other. Neil blushed — he probably seemed like some Victorian-era elite, ready to flop onto a fainting couch. Neil hated that he came across that way, but he couldn’t help it. This was gross and unsanitary, and he didn’t care who knew he felt that way. “You’re touching dicks!”
“You never touched a man’s cock before?”
“Check out the lily-livered pussy! Hey, you scared of a real man’s dick!”
“No!” Neil said, blushing. “I just don’t cotton to touching other men’s cocks.”
“Well, shit, you just wait for Rob to show up. He’ll set ya straight.”
“Rob’ll swallow you til you come out the other end, boy! He’ll rock ya world!”
Neil didn’t want to ask who Rob was. He was picturing some giant hillbilly who would make him ‘do things’ at night. He was already picturing himself squealing like a piggie.
But instead, Rob turned out to be a slim, delicate man with a flirtatious lilt to his voice and a feminine hourglass-shape to his body. He came to every work camp in the area, it seemed, and he helped the men get a nut off and relieve their stiffies. It sounded disgusting to Neil, but he took it in stride.
The tradition was called the Power Shower — that was why Rob came to this camp. Every man in the camp was “required” to let a man jack him off in the hygiene tent. Depending on who you asked, it was either a rule every day, every week, every month or just once in a lifetime. They all said men worked better once they had drained their nuts, and management didn’t want them swaggering into town on leave with swollen balls and Roman hands.
The weirdo, Rob, who presumably was hired to service the roughnecks, was supposed to do it at night, when everyone else was asleep. That meant there was no way to verify it, but they all treated it like a requirement.
He planned on lying about it. He waited for a night when nobody was up late, figuring he could claim it had happened that night and nobody would believe him. A few others had made it pretty clear they didn’t do it even though it was “required”, so it was obviously not a real requirement. Neil fully intended to just make it up. Nobody could prove or disprove it happened. A lot of the other workers did accuse each other of faking it, of being impotent, of being cowards, and they all denied it. Each roughneck would have to do or do not, or lie or lie not, as he saw fit. Rob had made it clear he wouldn’t confirm or deny that anyone had done it. Rob did say it was a requirement, that he was promised every roughneck cock in the camp, but he did not claim that everyone actually did it.
So that was Neil’s plan. He’d wait until he fit in better, and then he’d say he did, but he’d say it had happened a few weeks before, like it was no big deal at all at the time. A lot of them treated it like that, as though they got jerked off by men all the time (which, Neil supposed, was possibly true).
But that wasn’t how it turned out at all. Neil never got a chance to pretend it had happened. Before he even knew what was happening, he had done it.
Neil woke up one morning early — he was the only man in camp who occasionally woke up before dawn — and stumbled out to take a piss. He realized Rob was there, cooking breakfast over an open fire. Neil nodded a bleary-eyed hello at him.
And then he realized he was so horny his balls could burst. He’d been stressed out since getting here, but only now felt comfortable enough to realize how horny he was. He wanted to fuck more than anything. He’d had a sexy dream that he only half-remembered, but the part he remembered was that he nearly got to fuck a woman. He woke up right before the sex began, and now he was more horny than he’d been in a long time.
Damn, he wanted to fuck.
Respectfully. With a respectful manner towards the woman. As part of a dutiful relationship. Neil gulped.
His ex was in that dream. Claire was her name, she was blonde as the sun, with tits like… and a personality Neil appreciated. She was smart. A college graduate. She was so hot the thought of her made his dick throb. He wished he’d had a wet dream. When he was a younger man, if he had a dream like that, he absolutely would have. He’d have woken up mid-orgasm, cum spurting over his chest and belly.
But nowadays, he needed some real stimulation.
Rob looked at him and winked. “Hey,” he said. He stood at an angle, like a woman waiting to be asked to dance. He was fey and limp-wristed, and Neil didn’t much want to get to know him. He wondered how much Rob got paid for doing this shit. He didn’t ask though. It must be a lot.
Neil grunted. He decided to go take a shower in the hygiene tent to calm down. A cold shower would help.
I bet Rob swallows dick all the way down. Girls don’t really deep-throat, but that weirdo probably does.
He tried not to think about that. He went into the shower tent and turned on the hot water. He liked showering early because there was plenty of hot water. The coals had been burning all night, and the water bubbled away outside the hygiene tent
He turned around, and saw Rob standing in front of him. Rob grinned. “Hey,” he said again. “Are you ready for your Power Shower?”
“Uh…” Neil wanted to say no, but he couldn’t think of a reason to refuse. He wanted a nut so bad it hurt. Just thinking about it made his dick twitch. No one would know. Rob probably wouldn’t say, and even if he did, he often made grandiose claims as a joke. Rob claimed that guy Cooter had a sixteen-inch cock, and they all saw in the shower that it wasn’t that. Nobody would just believe Rob automatically.
A jolt of realization flooded Neil — a lot of guys left it unclear whether they had done it or merely joked about doing it, or whether they did it willingly or only because there was a “rule”. That vagueness, he thought, must be because they were all as uncertain about it as Neil. Nobody could ever be criticized for it if it was never clear who had done it or not.
So there was no reason not to do it. No one would know. Neil could do it here in the dark, and it’d be like it never happened.
By the time he had talked himself into it, Neil felt his dick disappearing into Rob’s mouth. The dim light of the hygiene tent made it seem a lot easier because Neil could easily pretend it was a girl on his cock. A woman. A respectful, respectable woman, whom Neil respected. Unlike these other roughnecks, Neil went to college, and he wanted to act like it.
A soft warmth suffused his body, and the stresses drifted out with each one of his rapidly hastening breath. Pleasure erupted through his veins. Neil’s knees almost buckled, and he held onto the fabric wall of the hygiene tent until that made the whole thing shake. He let go.
“Oh shit…” Neil tried to stay quiet, but his breathing grew jagged and harsh as his dick rocketed to full erection. Little spams of sensations wracked his muscular frame, and his hands tightened into claws that dug at the air around him. He clenched his teeth. “Daaaaamn…”
He’d never had felt like this. He hadn’t realized it until now, but he suspected that no girl had ever really wanted to give him a blowjob — they did it to be nice, or as foreplay, but not because they loved sucking dick.
Rob, it was obvious, actually loved the taste of dick. He deep-throated Neil’s cock until his nose nuzzled Neil’s pubic hair. Flashes of intense ecstasy shot up Neil’s spine, and he sucked in his breath. Neil shifted his weight around, as it felt so good it was kind of cunfomortable.
He was on the verge of orgasm right away. If he weren’t nervous and focused on trying to be quiet, he would have blown his wad immediately. He was glad to take a little longer because it would have been embarrassing otherwise. Real men don’t blow their nut too quickly.
Neil found himself gripping Rob’s head and feeding his dick down his throat. He had never done anything like that. He threw his head back and nearly howled like a wolf — he managed to swallow the sound, so he just screwed up his mouth and face as he opened his mouth.
Then, at last, an orgasm ripped through him. Cum sprayed down Rob’s throat and into his belly. The most intense pleasure of Neil’s life flowed like a flood in his veins, and his knees buckled.
“Goddamn…” A second fat load of jizz spurted into Rob, as Neil’s cock slowly slid out. Neil’s whole body undulated when he choked, which massaged another final long spurt of cum. A long chest-rattled moan came from Neil, and a murky gurgling groan of desire came Rob, as he slurped down every drop of cum he could get at.
Rob pulled off his dick. He wiped his lips off. “Lemme guess… lacrosse?”
“What?” Neil was breathless and exhausted.
“Which sport did you play in college? Was it lacrosse? I’m trying to develop a talent for guessing sports based on cum flavor,” Rob said. He laughed. “You taste like a lacrosse jock.”
Neil blushed. “Oh, well… I played baseball more, but yeah, I went to a Maryland prep school, we were required to play lacrosse too. I’m more of a baseball guy, I played baseball in college.”
“I’ll count that one as a win,” Rob said. He stood and stretched his knees. He wiped cum off his face, then he slurped up what he could get off the back of his hand. “You can thank me now.”
“Thanks.”
“And now you get to watch my ass as I walk away,” Rob said. He swayed his hips as he walked out of the shower tent. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone you did it.”
Rob walked away with a spring in his step. He hadn’t expected Neil to be that horny so soon, but he was glad to have taken advantage of it. Most guys took a few months to succumb. But Neil was younger than most, Rob thought, so he probably had virile balls, loaded with cum. Rob had a sixth sense about which workers were likely to give up the dick soon, and for tonight, he had his eyes set on a rough-faced worker named Dog Barren.
Dog lead a daily prayer before dinner. The others rolled their eyes at it, but it seemed no one wanted to be the one who didn’t pray before dinner. This was a Christian work crew. So Dog had everyone hold hands in a circle, while he led them all in a prayer. He remained shirtless, his broad, smooth body covered in the day’s sweat. One of the things that made him intimidating — aside from his muscles and his size — was the swastika and nazi tattoos all over him. During the prayer, that was all Rob could think about.
“I ain’t no nazi,” he had said when he first took his shirt off. His voice was a flat growl, like his throat was lined with razorblades, and he always sounded like he had more to say but wasn’t allowed to say it. “I was in prison. I’s gettin’ ’em removed.” Most of the swastikas were now just faded scars or outlines that hadn’t yet been fully lasered off. One dragon on his bicep was clearly the number 88 that had been turned into a pair of talons, with the dragon drawn to attach to them. “I’s on the Christian road now.”
But alas, he thought, it would never happen. Dog had said no way. He wouldn’t do anything motivated by lust. He saved his seed for a Christian wife. He didn’t say that like he believed it, but he did say it, and he was one of the few roughnecks who had not yet come to Rob in the night.
He was almost ready to give up here and move onto a different camp. A bunch of lumberjacks had set up near Bend, and he could head over there — a lot of them were Latinos who loved ramrodding pasivos. The only reason he didn’t leave was that it was raining, and had been for days, so the ground was muddy. That would make it difficult to get out to the remote lumberjack camp and even more difficult to set up a tent out there.
So Rob stayed. He slept near the hygiene tent. He was a light sleeper, so when someone went in there and turned on the water, he always woke up. That was a signal that someone wanted his mouth.
Today, however, when he went in there just before dawn, he was surprised to see Dog Barren standing alone in the shower water. A long tanned dick dangled between his legs. It was fat and juicy, and it drew Rob’s attention right away.
“Hey. Oh. Hi, sorry,” Rob said. His heart beat. He still didn’t entirely trust that Dog was no longer a nazi. “I just… I didn’t know it was you. Normally people only come out here before dawn if they want a Power Shower. I-“
“Shut up.” Dog chewed on his lower lip. He came closer to Rob.
“Okay. That’s fine.” Rob’s heart quickened, and he took a step back.
“Hmm-hmm. I know it’s fine.” He paused for a long time. He looked Rob up and down. He seemed to angle his body to make sure Rob saw his cock and balls in the battery-operated light of the hygiene tent, but Rob couldn’t tell if that was deliberate or not.
“Oh.”
“Come here,” he said. Rob came closer, and Dog put one heavy hand on his shoulder. He pushed down gently. “What happens at night, once the lights go off… That don’t count. God forgives anything that happens in the dark.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“So why don’t you get on your knees and see what happens.”
“Oh… Okay.” Rob dropped to his knees. Am I really about to jerk off a Nazi? Or a possible-Nazi at least?
But before Rob could second-guess himself, his mouth was pried open, and Dog’s fat cock slipped into his mouth. It was cool from the night air, and limp at first.
It firmed up in seconds though. Dog groaned and murmured. He held onto Rob’s head and fed his cock in until he was all the way down Rob’s throat, and Rob’s tongue snaked out to teasingly touch his balls.
“You see, it ain’t a sin if ya know all the rules,” Dog said. “Like… in the dark, it’s alright to relieve ya sins, and I’m-a do somethin’ else to make it okay.” He pulled his cock out of Rob’s mouth. “But first, boy, I wanna make sure you got discretion. Huh?”
“Yeah-“
Dog grabbed him by the neck with one hand. “That ain’t sound serious. You just said yeah like some slack slut who ain’t think this was important. But I is askin’ you as a Christian to put ya name on a promise before God. Ya feel me?” He smiled and placed one of Rob’s hands on his chest. His pecs flexed beneath Rob’s fingers. “So don’t just mumble yeah wit’out thinkin’. You gonna keep this a secret?”
“Yes, sir,” Rob said, his voice thready and nervous.
“Good. Now bend over on all fours. No talking unless I ask you a question or tell you to do somethin’. Got that?”
“Yes, sir-“
“Don’t call me sir, I ain’t a prison guard,” he said. “Now shut your mouth.”
A jolt of pain shot up Rob’s spine as Dog’s cock rammed into his ass. Dog was tight and struggled to take it all, but he soon felt a surge of pleasure in his bones. He grunted lightly and Dog lightly grabbed the back of his head.
“Shush, no talkin’.”
That made it difficult for Rob. He couldn’t even grunt or moan, even as Dog made loud slurping sounds and chewed on his lip, while his cock gurgled in and out of Rob’s ass. His precum made for a moist sound that filled the air of the shower tent.
Then, before Rob even knew what had happened, Dog had reached around him and grabbed his cock.
“It ain’t no sin if you give a reacharound. Cuz it ain’t motivated purely by lust, ya feel me? Ya doin’ it for a good reason, to make some boy feel good. You pickin’ up what I’m puttin’ down?”
“Yes.” Rob could barely think. The pressure in his ass was potent, and his cock throbbed in Dog’s grasp. Agonizing pleasure shot up Rob’s spine. He nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, uh, yes, I get it. Oh god! Oh god-“
“No talkin’,” Dog said. “I won’t kiss you on the lips, boy. Don’t even ask.” His voice trailed off as he lowered his body onto Rob’s back. Then, despite his words, he forced Rob’s head to the side and kissed him on the lips as his muscles all flexed against Rob’s back.
“Ah…”
“Shush, boy, I ain’t ask you no question,” Dog said. He pinned Rob flat on the wooden floor of the shower tent, pounding and grinding away at his ass while stroking his dick with one hand. Rob had never experienced anything like this. “You love my dick inside you, huh? Say you love my dick inside you, boy.”
“I love your dick inside me,” Rob said. His voice broke as though he was almost in tears, but it was his orgasm breaking inside him. He struggled not to cry out passionately, and when he was unable to control himself, the sound was swallowed up by another kiss from Dog’s mouth.
Dog pulled off as he shot his own wad into Rob’s ass. He opened his mouth, hot breath condensing onto Rob’s cheek. “I won’t ever kiss you, boy, don’t even try.” He slathered Rob in kisses, his cum filling Rob’s with creamy, sticky goodness.
Finally they were both done. Dog stayed in place, his cock limpening inside Rob for a few minutes. At last, every drop of cum had leaked out. He pulled his dick out and spread Rob’s cheeks. He peered at the gaping cream-filled hole the best he could in the dim light of the shower tent.
“I think I love you, boy,” Dog said. “But only for right now. You’s a sinner, and in the light of the Lord’s dear sun, you will soon bask in rays of truth.”
“Uh-huh.”
Dog grunted. “Don’t move, boy. I don’t wanna see you spill a drop. Let my nut fill you up all inside, that way you don’t forget the message I been givin’ you.” He paused. “Yeah, this was a message, boy, a message about religion. You best find yaself the Holy Spirit in ya heart and get forgiveness. Me? I already been forgived, ya feel me?”
“Yeah,” Rob said, too tired to really think about what he was saying.
After a long pause, Dog grabbed the clothes he had come in with. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it. Then he said, “You stay here ten minutes to think about what you done. Not just tonight, all the things you done. I’m goin’ to bed.” He paused. “Bring lube tomorrow night.” Then he walked away without waiting for a response.
“I will.” Rob was dazed and exhausted, yet so satisfied he thought he might never leave. These, he thought, were the workers for him.

The Vintner

Teddy is tending bar when he meets an Italian vintner with a handsome face and a hunky body, plus a need for money that Teddy is all too happy to help with! All Giovanni has to do is give him a taste of his alpha male manhood…

Read it now as an ebook!

The Cholo

Anthony works for a cartel but only in a technical capacity. He’s not a cholo himself, but he does wind up spending the night in a hotel room with one! That means Anthony is in for a night he’ll never remember, as this alpha male ex-con craves a tender touch that Anthony is eager to provide…

Can Anthony handle his bedmate’s unbridled machismo?

Read it now as an ebook!

Or read the whole thing here!

Anthony was glad to be treated like a real Latin Kings cholo now, not just a hanger-on of his brother — his brother Chuy was a high-ranking Latin King. But nowadays, he was helping the cartel’s front business with its computer system, so maybe he was a high-ranking Latin King too. Or at least a ranking one. Computer geeks weren’t really a part of the normal promotion system.
But he had a reputation as a good, loyal soldier of sorts. He was as much a bona fide cartel member as any of the other cholos and vatos could be. They showed him respect, and the lower on the totem pole they were, the more respect they showed, cuz they didn’t know who he was or how important his job was.
It was that reputation as a loyal worker that got him into the security detail for a wedding near the end of the year. Anthony didn’t know any of the people getting married — it was some bigwig señor’s daughter, who married a cholo from the cartel — but he was assigned to security for the event. Mainly, they wanted him to manage the wifi and the cybersecurity for the wedding, since they were quite sure that the law enforcement agencies of at least two countries would have undercover operatives there.
That was why Anthony was at the wedding of two strangers, dressed awkwardly in an ill-fitting suit, alongside a macho named Tejón, a muscle-bound, scar-faced cholo who made Anthony’s whole body quake with both fear and desire. Neither he nor Anthony had a tailored suit like the upper-class cartel leaders who filled the church’s pews.
Tejón was terrifying, to Anthony at least. To everybody else he was invisible. Anthony held his breath whenever Tejón was around — which was pretty much all the time, since he was guarding Anthony.
Before the actual service, Anthony did another quick last-minute review of the wifi and the server for the house.
He found an anomaly on the server. It was impossible to know for sure if it was just a faulty setting on the device, or if it was a relic of some sort of tap-and-trace software that had been installed. It was impossible to keep a wedding like this low-key — the bride’s main desire was for it to be big and public and highly visible — so the guests had all been told to use only their clean, crime-free cell phones. Most people hadn’t even brought one, which Anthony thought was probably wise.
Could have been the FBI trying to get a tracking signal from somebody’s phone. Could have bene another cartel, or the Chinese the Latin Kings did business with.
Anthony worked alongside the other security guys, all of whom were big tough ex-con cholos like Tejón. Most of them did prison time, and Anthony assumed Tejón did too. Those tattoos didn’t look professionally done. Anthony was a thin, reedy man, so he didn’t fit in with them. He looked out of place, and he felt even more out of place than he looked.
Luckily the rest of the wedding went off without a hitch. For a moment it looked like the bride might not show up, and Anthony wondered if this wedding was about to turn bloody, because the groom was getting angry.
But then at last the bride-to-be appeared. She looked radiant in her dress, which was more revealing than Anthony had thought any wedding dress could ever be. Her tits barely fit in it. She looked like the world’s most expensive prostitute, which he strongly suspected was the case. Or at least, she wanted everyone to think she was.
The wedding was over as quickly as it had begun. Anthony watched from the patio, but he couldn’t hear any of the words. It seemed like such a huge production, Anthony thought, for a ceremony that lasted about a minute. It didn’t even mean anything legally. All that mattered was the signing of the marriage certificate afterward. There was no officiant at this wedding, because they didn’t want to invite any outsiders like a priest. The bride and groom just signed the marriage certificate a couple days later with their priest. It was all just a big pointless formality, with the side benefit of it being a great way for the FBI to nab someone.
But Anthony didn’t explain his cynicism to any of the attendees, and he certainly didn’t say anything to Tejón, who glowered and flexed and scowled throughout the ceremony.
As the guests filed off for the reception, Anthony and Tejón headed for the hotel. Their shift was finally done. Anthony wasn’t too happy about sharing a hotel room with Tejón, who was a glowering, bullet-scarred, bull-faced man with a gruff demeanor and seemingly no ability to experience joy. He had shown no emotion during the ceremony. He looked like a cyborg carefully decorated to look like a cholo, Anthony thought.
But there was something alluring about him too. Anthony had changed into his suit with him in the bathroom and seen his powerhouse body then. Anthony only snuck a few peeks at him though. He’d never try anything. Who knows how a freak like Tejón would react?
Anthony was glad he had made it through without offending any of the cartel bosses or having to actually use the gun strapped to his waist. He had a lot less experience with violence than he had let on when he joined the Latin Kings, and he didn’t want that to become obvious in a firefight in front of everyone important. It wasn’t even what he had been hired for — he was just a computer guy — but they had insisted everyone on the security team be armed.
Now he had acquitted himself well, and so far as he could tell, nothing had gone wrong during the wedding. He was beginning to feel like a real gangsta, like he was just like everyone else in the organization. They had treated him like an outsider at the beginning of the day, but by the time the wedding was over, they treated him like one of their own.
The hotel was sumptuous and well-furnished, easily the fanciest hotel Anthony had ever stayed in. The Latin Kings rented rooms for the security guys, and Anthony couldn’t wait to get in the room and relax. He had been up since before dawn this morning, when he and Tejón had inspected the hall for listening devices.
He was so tired now that the adrenaline was no longer pumping through his veins that he didn’t realize until he and Tejón walked into their room that they had only been given a single one-bed hotel room. Tejón apparently saw that as normal and expected, but Anthony did not. He wasn’t sure if he should ask about it or if that would make him look weak.
“One bed,” Anthony murmured softly, to himself, not intending Tejón to hear.
Tejón nodded. “They do that, esé. They don’t think security needs separate beds,” he said, and he clucked his tongue. He shrugged. “It is like prison.” He licked his teeth.
“Oh. Yeah.” That did not make it better for Anthony.
“You scared to share a bed, hombre?” Tejón asked with a sneer. He took off his shirt and shoes, getting ready for a shower. He laughed at Anthony’s lack of comfort with the situation. “You prolly enjoy cuddlin’ wit’ me like a female. You look like the type. Flouncy.”
Anthony shrugged. “Whatever, esé. We’ll see if you can keep your hands off me.” He blushed. He was flouncy, he couldn’t be too upset that Tejón noticed it.
But he didn’t like to get called out like that. In any case, the broad, dark gold muscles of Tejón’s chest attracted Anthony’s gaze, and he didn’t think to look away Tejón saw him staring. His skin was marked with scars and those prison tats. He was what they might call a bugablack — very dark skin, but maybe not quite a full negro by Spanish-speaking standards. Too dark to be a mestizo though.
Tejón scoffed. He dropped his pants and boxers. He flopped his uncut cock between his finger and wiped sweat off his barrel-shaped chest, which was so thick that he overheated easily, especially underneath the suit he had been forced to wear all day. He sighed, glad to be naked finally, and headed into the shower. His powerful asscheeks jiggled up and down with each step.
Not wanting to look like he was scared of Tejón, Anthony hurried back to the room before Tejón was done with his shower. He got naked himself, so he could shower next, and he didn’t want to seem uncomfortable being naked in front of Tejón.
Cholos were like that. He’d seen it around the compound. Once there were no women around…
Well, as an avid admirer of the male physique, Anthony got quite an eyeful on many occasions at the compound. Sometimes a mouthful and often an assful too. He enjoyed visiting the compound.
Tejón came out of the bathroom on his cell phone, trying to convince his girlfriend to give him permission to fuck a whore — there were plenty hanging around the hotel. It did not sound like she was entertaining the possibility. He shouted at her in rapid-fire Spanish. Anthony caught just enough of it to understand the gist of the conversation.
Anthony frowned. The one exciting part of this wedding for Anthony, he thought, was that he thought he was going to get lots of hot cholo meat. It turned out that most of the guys working this wedding had duties nearly the entire weekend, so that wasn’t likely to happen. They were almost all here with their wives anyway. As Tejón finished his hushed conversation with his wife, Anthony headed into the bathroom for his own shower. It was warm and relaxing, and Anthony felt refreshed when he came out.
By the time Anthony was done showering, the sun was going down, and Tejón sat, still naked, on the edge of the bed, watching TV. He flipped aimlessly between the channels as Anthony dried off. He wanted to put shorts on, but he didn’t want to look more self-conscious than Tejón.
But then Anthony had been surprised by the cartel before. One of the other big machos he used to work with revealed that, when he and some buddies had been locked up, they drew straws to see which one of them had to be a bottom, and it had been him. He’d been rammed a couple times a day for most of a year before they were all released. It was widely considered okay or only mildly shameful, as long as he wasn’t pimped out to other prisoners. No one considered it such a big deal.
A punk is a man who gets bitched out to other prisoners. It was shameful to be a punk. Any other role was fine.
As the evening progress, Anthony noticed several times that Tejón snuck glances of Anthony’s smooth ass and pale thighs. Anthony wondered if Tejón’s penetrating glances were a prelude to something. He was so very naked, his big brutish body gleaming, exuding body heat that Anthony both craved and feared. Anthony was naked too, of course, but only because Tejón was first. Anthony was pale and small and thin, and he looked tiny next to Tejón, who took up most of the hotel room, it seemed like.
In the end, nothing happened that evening. Once they were both naked and watching TV, Anthony got less and less nervous. He began to think that Tejón must be naked by default — he was from Latin America, where it was very hot, so maybe he was used to being naked at home, Anthony thought. He and Tejón talked about the wedding, and Tejón complained about his girlfriend’s constant text-message nagging and her refusal to entertain the ‘fuck-a-whore’ proposition Tejón came up with. Tejón earnestly explained that it didn’t count if you were in a different country. Women have a different view of that kind of thing, which Anthony tried to explain. Tejón wanted a reason cheating didn’t count. Women want a man who wants to prove how expansive his definition of cheating is as proof of his devotion to her.
It was all anticlimactic, Anthony thought as he drifted off to sleep. He had been half-expecting the wedding to be interrupted by a hail of gunfire. If this was a movie, something would have happened. The Latin Kings had been dead set on the wedding would go off without a hitch, and they hired the professionals who could make it happen.
He and Tejón were both stark naked, sleeping on top of the covers at first. Anthony instinctually crawled under the blankets around midnight, where Tejón’s body heat was already warming things up. The air outside had gotten quite cold by then, and the air-conditioning was still on, so the inside of the hotel room became ice cold.
Anthony dreamed of a beautiful boy caressing his body. He spooned him from behind and nuzzled the back of his neck. He even fingered his ass and lower back. The warmth radiating off Tejón’s body was enveloping like a blanket, with a hot and spicy scent that made Anthony’s heart race even in his sleep.
In his dreams, Anthony moaned as that beautiful young man, a blond god, some sort of ski instructor, kissed a trail up his spine, fingers teasing Anthony’s sensitive asshole. Anthony squirmed and cried out with desire.
This smooth blond hunk, Anthony realized, was hairy. His chest was smooth but Anthony felt body hair. How did that happen?
He realized with a start that he wasn’t dreaming. It was Tejón’s hairy tattooed cholo body, grinding on Anthony from the side. His hot breath condensing on Anthony’s skin. His hard cock rubbed against Anthony’s thighs and asscheek. Tejón had woken up some time ago and was working himself into a full-fledged erection.
Or maybe he was not entirely awake. His voice sounded blearly, half-asleep, almost drunk, though he wasn’t drinking — the Latin Kings had forbidden it.
“Sssh, do you want it?” Tejón murmured, his voice baritone and echoing in Anthony’s ear.
“Hmmm… Yes!” Anthony whispered as loud as he could whisper.
“I knew it. You looked at me like you was hungry, but what you didn’t know is I’m hungry too. I’m just gonna put the tip in. It will not count. Do not fear, little pale one,” Tejón said in lilting Spanish. His arms were wrapped around Anthony’s body, so if he tightened his muscles, Anthony would be in a chokehold. “If it is in the dark, it does not count. You will still be a man.”
Before Anthony could say anything, Tejón’s dick pushed into his ass. Anthony gasped for air. The pain was so intense he couldn’t bring himself to speak, or even to cry out. The only sound that came from his lips was a sort of exhausted choking cough.
Bolts of pleasure shot up from behind. Anthony squirmed, trying to get in a more comfortable position, but he was trapped under Tejón’s heft.
This had all happened so fast. Anthony was, just moments ago, asleep.
Anthony let out a begging little moan and pushed his ass back, forcing more of Tejón’s dick into his tight body. That sent shivers of pleasure that wracked Anthony’s petite frame. He burst into sweat and let out a series of spine-tingling moans of desire, as Tejón’s cock rocked every inch of his insides. His rough hands roamed over Anthony’s body, while Anthony’s own hands clawed at and massaged the meaty muscles of Tejón’s body.
“Sssh, I will give you a reacharound,” Tejón said, his voice a slumberous groan, muffled because he had covered himself up from head to toe with a blanket. Anthony was buried beneath his warm muscles. That was probably why he had ruled it out when the lights were still on. He had meant it literally when he said it wouldn’t count in the dark. Tejón would do virtually anything with a man as long as no one, not even God, could see. “That means you are my pasivo, it is okay.”
Despite Tejón’s warning, Anthony was still shocked when the older cholo’s fingers wrapped around his cockshaft. Anthony’s dick was already harder than it had ever been, throbbing painfully at just the touch of Tejón’s callused fingertips.
“Tejón…”
“Ssh, you taste so good, my darling,” Tejón whispered as he kissed Anthony on th elips, his voice tremulously baritone, as though he was desperate to get his rocks off. “I will make it feel very good, yes, esé? You are in the cartel now. You are uno narco in this organization…” He said that as though it meant Anthony was supposed to let himself get rammed — did Tejón ram all the new cholos? The more he learned about Latin Kings, the less surprised Anthony would have been by that.
“I don’t…” Anthony was confused about what Tejón was doing, but the bliss that rocked Anthony’s body made it hard to think about it, and all Anthony wanted was to finish this. He cried out and bucked, sweating now beneath the confines of the blankets and Tejón’s heavy body.
His prostate sang, sending waves of sensations to rocket through Anthony’s limbs. His fingers tightened into claws, which dug into the soft mattress of the hotel bed. He buried his face in the cool sheets as Tejón’s hot chest pounded onto his back. The pleasure exploded in Anthony’s ass and ran up his spine. He arched his back, rubbing it against the corded muscles of Tejón’s broad chest.
As Tejón’s dick began sliding in and out of Anthony’s increasingly accommodating ass, the pain gradually diminished. Each thrust converted some of the agony of his huge cock stretching his bottom open to paroxysms of pleasure that made Anthony cry out and beg for more, the sound of which was muffled by the hotel mattress. Anthony’s back arched and a few twinges of pleasure rocked his body, moving from his sensitive asshole and up his spine.
That was enough to send Anthony towards his own orgasm. He grimaced from the pain and pressure as his cockshaft pulsated in Tejón’s hand, which stroked his manhood with tenderness and care, plus plenty of spit and precum as lube — Tejón must have learned well how to lube up with minimal supplies in prison.
Anthony bit his lip to suppress his moan of pleasure at feeling a few drops of precum inside his ass. Tejón’s cock filled him up, and it seemed to grow bigger with each daggering thrust into his insides. Each one raised Anthony to new heights of pleasure.
He didn’t know how long it took then. His ass burned, roiling with intense senations too poent for him to comprehend. It was unlike any ramrodding experience Anthony had ever had, and it made him dizzy with desire. All he could do was cry out and demand more.
The agonizing pleasure in his ass didn’t go away. It actually got worse and worse as Tejón’s powerful hips slammed his cock in and out of Anthony’s ass. Every time he did it hurt worse.
But it also felt good. It felt so good that Anthony began humping his ass backward, pushing onto Tejón’s dick in sync with his gyrations. They rammed there for an amount of time that could have been a minute or it could have been a week, Anthony didn’t know except that he didn’t recall seeing the sun come up.
Eventually it was over. Anthony shot his wad all over Tejón’s hand, while he felt creamy precum spurting up his ass from behind. Huge gobs of jizz sprayed onto the bed in front of Anthony, and the smell of it bloomed like a jungle in the air freshener-scented hotel room.
The orgasm that erupted in Anthony’s ass was so potent it made Anthony shout, loud enough that he wondered if it was audible in the next room — that was inhabited by two other cartel bodyguards, who, Anthony now realized, might be messing around right now just like him and Tejón were.
He hoped so. That was nice to imagine.
Spasms of bliss rocketed up and down Anthony’s spine. He shuddered and grunted into the pillow below beneath him, as his sticky cum spurted across the hotel bedspread. He even drooled onto the pillow, unable to close his mouth because of the outrageous pangs of pleasure that wracked his body.
Anthony had never felt anything like it. He’d gotten rammed in the dark by a lot of men and even a lot of cholos with huge cocks, but nothing had ever made him feel like this, like his whole body was going to rattle into a million little pieces of pure sensation. He gasped and bit the pillow under him.
“Toma mi pene, chico, necesito llenarte con mi hombría. Voy a disparar tanto que sale por tu nariz. Vas a estar oliendo mi esperma cada vez que te tiras un pedo a partir de ahora…” Tejón spoke softly, too quickly for Anthony to make out the words with his rudimentary Spanish — he was distracted by his orgasm anyway, but he could tell Tejón was saying dirty-talk, something about sperm, Anthony heard that. He assumed it was both dirty and romantic, and whatever it was, it made Anthony shudder with desire as he finished his orgasm at last.
He pushed back with his ass when he felt the first few drops of Tejón’s cumload finally hit his ass. He could tell it was going to be big, and he giggled with anticipation — he loved it when men filled his ass with cum.
Tejón grunted in his ear. His hairy chest dragged against Anthony’s back, as he filled Anthony with his frothy cum. He kept plowing even as his dick began to get limp, humping until his wad began to drip down Anthony’s thigh and stain the bedsheets.
Anthony was right — it was a huge load. It just kept on flowing, filling Anthony up, seeping into his flesh until he could virtually taste it from his nose to his toes. He felt Tejón’s manhood suffusing through his body, until it was all he could think about. Tejón gasped just like Anthony did, in plaintive, panty tone, like he was desperate for this orgasm, which went on as long as Anthony’s did.
Creamy wad after creamy wad flew up Anthony’s behind, each one leaving a warm afterglow of sensation deep in Anthony’s body. Tejón shot huge loads, like he had built it up in prison. Or maybe that girlfriend was blueballing him. She was likely provided by the Latin Kings and often found something better to do than take dick from the harsh-eyed scarface with the battering ram for a cock.
Poor guy… Anthony thought to himself.
At last they were done. Anthony fell limp on the bed, breathing a sigh of relief when Tejón finally pulled out of him. Tejón’s sweaty muscles remained curled around Anthony’s body, however, as though he intended to cuddle Anthony to sleep.
“Uh, Tejón?”
“Sssh, just go to sleep,” Tejón said. He rubbed his limp, gooey dick over Anthony’s asscheek.
“Oh… Well…”
“Ssh, baby, my little mamacito,” Tejón mumbled. He sounded like he was nearly asleep as he curled his biceps up with Anthony’s head in the crook of his elbow. He kissed Anthony on the cheek. “Just go to sleep.”
Anthony was so satisfied he couldn’t bring himself to move away, even though he was buried in Tejón’s overly hot flesh. He didn’t want to sleep on the floor either, but that was the only other option. He was just going to have to cuddle with this tattooed beast of a man. It was still cold in the hotel room anyway. Anthony felt warm, but he figured he would soon be shivering if he weren’t in Tejón’s arms tonight.
Besides that, he felt safe and secure in Tejón’s powerful muscles, so he was satisfied as he slowly drifted off to sleep.

The Veteran

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

Can Avery land the man of his dreams?

Read it now as an ebook!

Or read the whole thing here!

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

The Cop

Desmond has long heard tales of the cruel cop known as Officer Awful, but Desmond can’t wait to experience the kind of punishment Awful metes out! He likes to make men bend over and take it, which is exactly what Desmond craves.

Can Desmond handle the punishment Officer Awful has in store?!

Read it now as an ebook!

Or read the whole thing here!

Desmond staggered down the road, pretending to be drunk. Well, partially pretending. He was drunk, just not extremely drunk. He staggered like he was extremely drunk. He’d had a few drinks to settle his nerves, which didn’t work. His heart raced. He had never done anything quite like this before. The city was quiet but bustling in the early evening. Desmond stood out both because he appeared to be drunk and because he was the only black man here.
Sure enough, the first part of his plan worked: Desmond saw the police car pull to a stop, and Officer Auffernan got out. He was tall and strapping, his broad shoulders barely fitting into the uniform shirt he wore. He was both a literal and figurative redneck, his tan skin having a ruddy hue from working outside. He had a military crew-cut, but his hair was a dark blond so it almost looked like he had a bald head.
“Young man, come here,” he said. He sounded both bored and aggressive, and Desmond shivered in anticipation.
He smiled, dropping the drunken act. “What seems to be the problem, officer?”
“You drunk…?” Auffernan asked, eyebrows furrowing as he realized mid-question that Desmond no longer seemed drunk.
“No, sir. But you can charge me with public intoxication if you want.”
He chewed on his lip. He looked like the kind of man who was not often surprised during the course of his work and didn’t much like it now that it had happened. “What’s yer game, boy?”
The way he drawled out the word boy made Desmond shiver again. This time it must have been obvious that it was sexual, and Auffernan bristled. Desmond felt cold and small, and he had to resist the urge to grope Auffernan’s broad chest right now, here in public.
“I probably shouldn’t say in front of all these people,” Desmond said. There were a few onlookers on the other side of the street. No one was close enough they could hear, but it certainly wasn’t private.
“I feel like you wastin’ my time, boy. So I’m gonna put you in handcuffs for now and take you down to the station. I’ll figure out why later,” he said. He slapped cuffs on Desmond, whose dick burst into life when Auffernan’s hands gripped his wrists.
As soon as he was in the back of the cop car, Desmond caught a whiff of leather and sweat and uniformed musk. He took a deep breath before Officer Auffernan got in the front seat and drove off.
“Well, boy, out with it. What ain’t ya wanna say in public?”
“I’ve heard you… sometimes take young black men and have your way with them, and-“
“You one of them Black Lives Matter folks?” He looked away from the steering wheel, frowning at Desmond.
“No, sir.” Desmond’s heart nearly pounded out of his chest. “I was hoping you’d have your way with me.”
Auffernan paused, then let out a long, booming laugh. “Well, boy,” he said. “First of all, I do not have my way with black men, or wit’ no one I arrest. That would be a crime.”
“Certainly.”
“Let’s say if’n I was gonna do somethin’ like that, I wouldn’t be targetin’ black folks. I love black folks. My deputy is as black as night,” Auffernan said. His squad car glided down the moonlit street. “But I don’t like thugs. I don’t like cocky thugs comin’ down here and making a stink in my nice little town.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You ain’t a thug.”
“No, sir.”
“So you see my problem, boy?”
“You won’t abuse me because I’m not a thug?”
“I ain’t say that. I don’t abuse no one.”
“Would it help if I acted like a thug?”
“Boy, you the queen of all the sissies.” Auffernan said. “I doubt you could pull that off.”
Desmond knew Auffernan was right. He could not pull off a thug act. He tried his best though. He leaned back in the backseat and gave off the disaffected air of a real thug. “You, pig, you best jerk ma dick like ya life depends on it, muddahfuckah-“
“That ain’t workin’. You about as thug as Urkel, boy,” Auffernan said. He sniffled and sighed. “You know I gotta charge you, right? I called this in. There gonna be questions if I just let you go.”
“That’s fine.”
“Gonna be a two hundred dollar fine,” Auffernan said.
“I can afford it.”
“Well hell, ain’t you the uppity kind? You loaded or what?” Auffernan said with a laugh. He made eye contact with Desmond in the rearview mirror.
“Not exactly loaded,” Desmond said. “But I can afford a couple fines.”
Auffernan pulled into the parking lot of the police station. It was a tiny building, barely bigger than an efficiency apartment. Auffernan dragged Desmond out of the back seat. Desmond struggled like a thug the best he could.
“Yo, pig, get off me!”
Auffernan dragged him to his feet. He whistled. “You really like it when it hurts, huh?” He tightly gripped Desmond’s arm with one meaty hand, causing a twinge of pain where Desmond’s wrists were bound.
“Yes, officer. Pig. Go fuck a donut.”
As he walked him to the front door, Auffernan snorted in derision. “Shit, most thugs get more creative than that, boy.” He slapped his thigh.
“I’ll work on that,” Desmond said. He followed Auffernan inside the police station.
There was no one inside. It was just an open room with a few desks scattered about, and at one end was an office — Auffernan’s, presumably. The other end had two small jail cells. That was where Auffernan led Desmond. He added a second pair of handcuffs attaching the first pair around Desmond’s wrists to the cell bars, so Desmond was forced to face away from the rest of the station. “You wait there, bitch. Gonna make you show a little respec’.”
Desmond shuddered. He felt sure Auffernan was going to do it now, and his dick raged in his pants. He had trouble sounding like a thug when he was so horny and so desperate to be submissive. “Who you calling a bitch, pig?”
There was a loud clattering noise, then Auffernan loudly locked the front door. “You shouldn’t be comin’ ‘round to my town and insultin’ me, boy.”
“You evolved in a cave, cracker!”
That made Auffernan stop walking. His menacing cop routine vanished. “What?”
Desmond dropped his thug act as well. “It’s a Five-Percenter thing.”
There was another long silence. “What?”
“Five-Percenters. They believe white people evolved in a cave… Nevermind,” he said. “It’s just what I thought a thug might insult you with-“
“Ain’t all people evolve in a cave? Like cavemen?”
Desmond shrugged. “I dunno. I guess so.”
“Every black person I ever arrested was better at insulting me than you is,” Auffernan said with a sigh. “Even this deaf motherfucker I arrested a couple years back.” Auffernan was right behind Desmond now, unbuttoning his shirt. Desmond moaned.
Desmond could hear Auffernan taking his clothes off but couldn’t see him. The police station had become dark since Auffernan turned the lights off, leaving only the illumination of the emergency lighting in the jail cell.
“Sorry,” Desmond said. “I’ll try to get better.”
“You want something to bite on, boy?” Auffernan asked. He was right behind Desmond now, so close his breath condensed on Desmond’s cheek. He wrapped a piece of red vinyl cloth in front of Desmond’s face, like a tether he could bite on.
As Desmond opened his mouth to let it in, he realized what it was — a Confederate flag. That made him feel even hornier, and he wished he could take his pants off.
“Ain’t nothing racist about me using this flag, boy. ‘S just about culture and heritage, not race,” Auffernan said. “You got that?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I use this flag e’ry time I got a northerner come down here, need to be reminded he ain’t from ‘round these parts,” Auffernan said.
“You fucking honky,” Desmond said. He meant for it to sound threatening, but it came out like a seductive groan as the situation made him aroused and panty.
“You gonna jerk me off, boy.”
“Yes, oh god yes!”
“T’weren’t a question,” Auffernan said. “It was a prediction.” He uncuffed Desmond from the cell bars, leaving his wrists cuffed together. He pushed Desmond to his knees. “You ain’t gonna bite me, right?”
“I won’t bite! I promise!”
“I’m sure you won’t. And you got nice soft lips, so I think I’m gonna like this,” Auffernan said. He had a wide, strapping body and a furry blond chest. He had unbuttoned his uniform shirt but not taken it off, revealing a Confederate flag wifebeater underneath, torn and stained with sweat around the armpits. Auffernan still wore his black uniform slacks.
“Can I lick your armpits, officer?”
Auffernan sneered in disgust. “Yes, but you can’t enjoy it. That’s gross,” he said.
“Fuck you, pig, you can’t tell me what to do. Muddahfuckah,” Desmond said. He smiled and attacked Auffernan’s left pit. He inhaled deeply and licked the hairs there, tasting the stale salt of past sweats sticking to his skin. He managed to gag in an authentic way — it was musky and disgusting in an objective sense, so it was easy to respond like it was foul, even if Desmond actually loved it. “Oh god yes,” Desmond said as he moved to the other armpit. “Don’t make me suck on your balls next.”
Auffernan chuckled. “You like swallowin’ white balls?”
“I like the taste of redneck balls.”
Auffernan’s eyes flashed darkly. “I don’t like it when people who ain’t rednecks call me a redneck. Seems kinda like a slur,” he said.
“Let’s talk punishment, hillbilly,” Desmond said before diving his head between Auffernan’s legs. He still wore his slacks so Desmond’s tongue wettened the fabric, which was salty and sour.
“Oh now, I ain’t a hillbilly. I ain’t that rural,” Auffernan said as he undid his belt. His pants fell to his ankles, and he had on a pair of white briefs, dingy and grayed. His cock and balls bulged, thick pubic hair sneaking around the edges of the fabric.
Desmond whistled. “You sure you ain’t part black? You got a massive slab of meat there, ‘specially for a redneck.”
“You just tryin’-a piss me off now, boy.”
“I’ve been trying to piss you off since you arrested me,” Desmond said. He used his teeth to bite the elastic of the briefs, then awkwardly pulled them down — he was still handcuffed, so that was the only way to do it. He had never done this with briefs before — only boxers, but he had ample experience with them — and it was awkward. Auffernan looked down at him with his arms folded over his chest.
“There’s a part of my ballsac-” the way he drawled out ballsac to last for what seemed like ten syllables to Desmond — “thass always itchin’ me, boy. I wanna see if yo’ tongue can scratch that itch.”
As much as a part of Desmond wanted to go right for the dick, which was plump and already stirring with a trace of erection, he wanted to drag this out as long as possible. He stuck his head between Auffernan’s legs and licked his balls.
They were thick and heavy, dripping with sweat — there was air conditioning in the station, but it did not seem to be effective, and the building remained extraordinarily hot, making Auffernan’s balls slippery. The sweat flowed from those hairy balls right down Desmond’s greedily guzzling throat. The musty, salty flavor exploded on Desmond’s tongue, and he gurgled as he savored it.
Auffernan pointed to the rear of his balls, having to awkwardly reach behind his own ass to get his finger there. “Right there,” he said. The spot was right where his scrotum met his taint, and it was covered in sweat-stickied hairs.
Without taking Auffernan’s overflowing ballsac from his mouth, Desmond stretched his tongue out to that spot. The taste was grimy and dirty, making Desmond moan around the flesh that quivered in his mouth. He had to strain to get his tongue out that far, but when he touched it, Auffernan grunted.
“Damn, you one hell of a ballslurper,” Auffernan said as though he was shocked. “Ain’t nevuh had no one suck my balls who really liked it, I guess.” His dick sprang to full erection above Desmond’s face, and it twitched every time Desmond lapped at Auffernan’s sensitive sac.
Goober in. Auffernan, you there? What’s up?”
Auffernan reached to the uniform shirt that he had placed on a nearby desk. He grabbed the radio mic off it and said to Desmond, “This is that black deputy I was tellin’ you about. He always messin’ wit’ pinkboys. Keep quiet fo’ now,” Then he spoke into the mic. “Hey, Goober. Nothin’ going on right now. I picked up a drunk boy. You might have some interest in him.”
A long pause. Crap. My wife’s gonna kill him. Rashaad right? He promised he wouldn’t drink outside the home. Was he on liquor? His mom made him promise only beer-
“Nah, stop, Goober, no-” Auffernan said until Goober stopped talking long enough that Auffernan could transmit. “Nah, not one of yer boys like yer son. I just mean he’s black.”
Oh, well, whatever. You givin’ him the standard welcome?
“Even as we speak,” Auffernan said with a chuckle. “He got a real sour look on his face, and he making these chipmunk sounds.” He held the mic near Desmond’s face so the sound of his moist sputtering could be heard. “You hear that?”
Not really. Just sounds like static. I’m sure it’s a pretty sound. You tell him to keep it real for me, Auffernan. I’m-a go serve that warrant now.
“Roger that,” Auffernan said. He put the radio mic down. Then he looked down at Desmond’s red face and bugging eyes. “You keep it real, okay?”
“Yes, officer,” Desmond said through the balls filling up his mouth.
“You ready to swallow that dick?”
His dick had gotten rock-hard from Desmond’s attention to his balls, and from his position underneath the massive cop, Auffernan’s cock took up almost all of Desmond’s field of vision. He gurgled his excited agreement around the ballflesh overflowing from his throat, which continued to send trickles of tasty fluids down Desmond’s throat.
He pulled away, keeping his mouth open so Auffernan could see the pool of drool and sweat that had collected in the back of his mouth. He stuck his tongue out and licked the entire shaft from root to tip. It twitched. With his tongue, Desmond traced the veins that ran up the side of the shaft. He choked up plenty of spit, which ran down Auffernan’s dick into his bushy forest of crotch hair.
Auffernan lost his disaffected pose, and he shuddered, pleasure visibly rippling through him. His arms were crossed over his chest, but as Desmond licked, he clutched at his body and played with his nipples as though uncontrollably aroused.
“Shit, yeah!” Auffernan muttered. “You do that good!” Desmond swallowed his precum-leaking cocktip, letting that mess of fluids in his mouth leak out and down Auffernan’s shaft to moisten it up. Auffernan sighed. He leaned against the cell bars. “Shit…”
Desmond began deep-throating him in earnest, working his dick all the way down his throat. He was an expert cock-sucker, so he didn’t need to gag on it, but he liked to, both because it was enjoyable on its own terms and because it made Auffernan get cockier, which turned Desmond on.
“You can’t handle this much meat, huh?”
He didn’t want to stop to answer, so Desmond just said ‘no, it’s too much!’ around the meat in his throat. All that came out was a gurgling sound, but Auffernan seemed to get the gist of what he was saying.
“Lemme lube it up some,” Auffernan said. He very slowly spat, letting a thick wad of saliva drip down, plopping onto Desmond’s upper lip as he slid down the shaft.
Desmond suckled the spit into his mouth as he stretched his jaw and got all the way down. Then he let that spit roll out down Auffernan’s shaft, as Auffernan grunted. His knees buckled. His balls crawled up in his sac as though about to cum, but then Auffernan removed Desmond’s face from his cock. He lightly slapped it.
“You’s tryna’-a make me cum too early,” he said. “I’m cornholin’ you in the ass, boy. Ain’t gonna let you cum neither.” He chuckled throatily. “You ain’t gettin’ outta here with an intact booty. No way. Not on Auffernan’s watch.”
“Never, you fuckin’ pig!” Desmond said. He stood up, taking a deep breath now that his throat was clear. He grabbed the cell bars with his cuffed wrists and stuck his ass out a bit to give Auffernan a good angle. “I’ll fuck you up, officer!”
“Speaking of pigs,” Auffernan said as he rammed his dick in. A jolt of pain shot up Desmond’s spine, and he howled. Auffernan gripped him by the waist. “Lemme hear you squeal.”
Desmond squealed as loud as he could. He wasn’t sure how pig-like it was, but it was an animalistic squeal anyway. The cock in his ass pushed in a little farther, pulsating deep within him. It awakened a chord of intense pleasure that sounded up from his booty, traveling up his spine and hitting him with a wave of exquisite sensations.
“That ain’t a pig. You just squealed like a… big, retarded rooster,” Auffernan said. “Try it again. Like this.” Then he made a rough, honking noise — to Desmond, he wanted to say it sounded like an angry goose. But he didn’t argue, the pleasure exploding in his ass was too intense to form any words. He just made the sound the best he could.
Auffernan’s dick was all the way in him now, and Desmond’s prostate throbbed with every thrust of his cock. He squealed again, making that angry goose sound.
“Hey, here, make that sound again,” Auffernan said, shoving the radio mic in front of Desmond’s face. He pushed the ‘transmit’ button.
Desmond squealed as loud as he could to be sure the mic could pick it up. The pain was melting away now as his ass loosened up, and Auffernan’s cock flowed in and out easily. Auffernan slammed with all his mind, ramming Desmond into the cell bars with each thrust of his hips.
After a few seconds, there was a click, and then Deputy Goober’s bass laughter came out of the radio.
There a pig loose in the station, hoss? Want me to get the assholes at Animal Control?
“Nah, I got this piggie under control. He just makin’ noise to let me know he feel strongly ‘bout what’s happenin’ to him,” Auffernan said into the radio. Then he whispered into Desmond’s ear, “Alright, boy, I’m-a give you this flag to bite on again.”
The cold vinyl Confederate flag again pushed between Desmond’s lips. He bit down hard, which made the plowing a little easier to take. The fabric was thick enough to have some purchase, so he could relieve the pressure he felt with a strong clamp of his teeth on the flag. As he did so, he bucked his ass backward, forcing it deep onto Auffernan’s cock — he wanted to make this as good as possible for Officer Auffernan, who groaned appreciatively. That groan turned into a shudder like he was holding back his orgasm.
“Fuck yeah,” Auffernan said. He looked around as though checking for anyone else in the station, then whispered again. “Look… I learned somethin’ in the military, a sorta rule. I don’t follow it on the force,” he said. “Cuz normally I only cornhole pissheads.” He took a deep breath. His hands reached around Desmond’s body, squeezing first his nipples as though Auffernan hoped to find tits there. Then his hands roamed lower down until they came to Desmond’s rock-hard cock. Auffernan pulled away for a moment like he was scared. Then he resumed touching and even stroking Desmond’s dick with one hand, while his other hand held the flag in place in Desmond’s mouth. Auffernan moaned, sounding a little disgusted. “My drill sergeant said you can ram a man in the ass, but you gotta give a reacharound. It’s against the rules otherwise.”
“Really?” Desmond asked through gritted teeth, his voice muffled by the flag that was still in his mouth.
Auffernan shrugged. “I’m sure that wasn’t a real Army rule or nothin’. Just what my drill sergeant was into,” he said. “You ever tell anyone, I will get you locked up — not here where you gonna get rammed all the time neither, I’ll get you locked up somewhere terrible where the guards are all fat.”
“Won’t. Tell.” Desmond could barely speak. His ass was on fire with orgasmic energy, while his dick pulsated beneath Auffernan’s fingers. He wished he could prolong it, but he was already bucking and shooting his load. All it took was a few strokes from a massively muscled alpha like Officer Auffernan.
“Dang, boy, you nut fast!” Auffernan let out a wolf whistle.
Semen sprayed across Auffernan’s fingers and into the cell, dripping all over the floor and coating the cell bars in Desmond’s cream. Desmond groaned loudly, and then Auffernan did likewise, but with a more grossed-out tenor, his hand still stroking Desmond’s orgasming cock. He lifted the fingers of his other hand to Desmond’s face, where he wiped cum the cum off his hands onto Desmond’s cheeks.
Then he took both ends of the flag in his hands, pulling tight so Desmond’s head was forced upward. As though he needed to reassert his masculinity after touching Desmond’s cock, Officer Auffernan began pounding his dick in and out, all the way with each powerful stroke. That only continued Desmond’s orgasm.
“Take it, boy,” Auffernan said, growling through gritted teeth. Just as he was saying boy, his voice broke and the first jet of cum hit Desmond’s ass. He continued longdicking through the shoulder-shaking power of his orgasm.
Desmond shuddered and squeezed as though trying to hold on to Auffernan’s cock with his ass. A huge load of cum sprayed into his guts, and a seeping warmth spread to his guts. Desmond moaned along with Auffernan as jet after jet of white-hot cum coated his insides.
That orgasm seemed to last forever. Desmond’s had begun when Auffernan jacked him off and continued through Auffernan’s climax, and even now, Auffernan’s cock spurting out the last of his cum, Desmond writhed and gasped as ecstasy coursed through his veins. His prostate thrummed and hummed, and Desmond struggled against the handcuffs binding his wrists together.
At last, when his balls were good and drained, Auffernan pulled out and Desmond breathed a sigh of relief. His ass felt cold and empty. He stayed there, bent over and with a Confederate flag in his mouth — Auffernan no longer held on to it, so Desmond could have spat it out anytime. He didn’t want to though. He wondered how many other men had bit this flag while they got rammed. He hoped it was a lot. Maybe that was why Auffernan used it. Maybe he liked the flag soaking up all the ass-pain sweat and drool of the men he ramrodded.
Officer Awful. That was what they called him. Desmond had heard about that, and he came running to this tiny town so he could run into him.
As Desmond recovered from his orgasm, he turned his head to see Auffernan writing him a ticket. He was still naked, his sweaty body swaying, limp dick moist with cum and assjuice. Auffernan put the ticket in Desmond’s hand.
“Here you go, boy. That’ll be two hundred dollars. You can pay at the county courthouse.” Public intoxication was checked, but at the bottom of the list of possible charges, Auffernan had written in, inappropriate squealing, and checked that box as well.
“If I don’t pay, do I get to stay here?” Desmond asked with a grin and a gasp.
“That is exactly correct,” Officer Awful said.

The Clerk

Rob is in a big-box retail store when he spies a hunky redneck clerk shirking his job duties. Rob is all too eager to help out, in exchange for a chance to swing on this store clerk’s alpha male meat!

Can he handle the surprise in the Outdoor Supplies aisle?!

Read it now as an ebook!

Or read the whole thing here!

The white guy looked like he was trying to sneak a nap among the shelves. He was tall, broad-shouldered, red-necked both literally and figuratively, and he had a lean ropy-muscled body beneath the blue All-Mart apron he wore. He also had on civilian clothes: a long-sleeve camo tee and camo pants, which Rob suspected were not regulation.
It was two o’clock in the morning at a twenty-four hour All-Mart. Rob had come here for beer before remembering that he was in Nebraska, where only liquor stores sold beer. He was disappointed. There was a black guy in the motel room next to him whom Rob thought he could jerk off in exchange for a few beers.
But this All-Mart clerk was also an attractive target. Jacob was the name on the nametag pinned to his chest. He was young, scruff-bearded, with dark hair and eyes. He appeared to be assigned to stock some hunting vests, which he had stacked in boxes on a handcart. But he was doing it so lazily he could only be wasting time deliberately. He leaned against the shelves and closed his eyes, as though going to take a nap standing up right here in the hunting and camping aisle.
“Excuse me,” Rob said. “I’ll pay you five hundred dollars if you let me jerk you off.”
His bleary eyes blinked. “What?” Jacob paused. “Wait, what?” He wrapped one hand over his All-Mart apron. “I…”
“Here, just a tip,” Rob said as he put a twenty-dollar bill in Jacob’s pants. He stuck it in the waist of his pants — making sure to get a feel of Jacob’s kinky pubic hair — then took Jacob’s big meaty hand in his. He got Jacob’s finger out and sucked on it, making Jacob’s eyes pop out and his face blush. Rob deep-throated his finger all the way down until he gagged. Rob grinned. “I’ll make you feel better than your girlfriend ever could. You ever cornhole a man, Jacob?”
“No…” He sounded nervous.
“It is dirty. It is nasty, and you will never blow a more satisfying nut,” Rob said. “I’ll give you a thousand dollars to ram me in the ass. C’mon… Let me go to town all over your cock. You’ll forget about your girlfriend, you won’t remember her name.”
“Felicia…” Jacob looked up and down the aisle to make sure nobody could hear this conversation.
“She sounds like a bitch.”
“Yeah. She kinda is.”
“A thousand dollars. What would you do with a thousand dollars?”
“Shit, buy a dirtbike,” he said without a moment’s hesitation.
“A dirtbike, that sounds fun,” Rob said. He plastered on a jovial smile. “What do you say? You don’t have to touch my dick.”
He looked around. “Let’s go in the back. Hey, if this black guy named Terrell walks in, I’m making you take it cuz you’s a snitch,” he said.
“Okay.”
He led Rob away from the hunting gear into the backroom. There was a small hidden corner there, blocked from view by a row of boxes. It smelled vaguely like weed, and there was ash on the floor, which suggested to Rob why Jacob thought they might be interrupted — this was where the employees came to smoke weed. Jacob closed his eyes and leaned against the wall.
He unzipped the fly of those camo pants and let his hoggish prick flop out. It was musty and musky, and it made Rob’s dick twitch in his pants. Rob put the tip in his mouth, looking up at Jacob to gauge his reaction — Jacob was horrified, eyes open wide, tongue lolling out of his mouth — but he didn’t complain, and in fact his back stiffened up as though he was steeling his nerves.
It stayed limp there at first, like Jacob was too nervous to get hard. Then Rob gurgled merrily on it, savoring the flavor, and that seemed to trigger Jacob to relax. He took a deep breath. His dick trembled and firmed up in Rob’s mouth.
Jacob wrapped his hands around Rob’s head. He acted like he was going to throat down Rob — which Rob would have loved — but instead he just gingerly guided Rob’s head up and down. He licked his lips.
“Damn, boy, you do that pretty good,” he said. He whispered, looking through the rows of shelves every few seconds to be sure no one was coming. It was late enough at night that Rob felt confident no one would interrupt them — there weren’t that many people even working right now to begin with, so what were the chances they would come into this little corner of the storage area?
Jacob, where are you?
The radio flickered into life from where it was clipped to Jacob’s pants. He sighed and bristled like he didn’t want to be interrupted. He bent down and picked up the radio. “This is my jerkoff boss,” he said. He pushed the ‘transmit’ button down. “I’m here.”
Are you done with Outdoor Supplies?
Jacob rolled his eyes. “No. I’m helping a customer right now. I’ll be back to finish it off in a few minutes.”
The boss’ voice sounded clipped, like he was angry but didn’t want to say anything inappropriate because he thought there was a customer nearby. I appreciate your commitment to customer service. However, your current assignment is stocking in Outdoor Supplies.
“Understood,” Jacob said. He made a mock military salute, as if Jerry could see through the radio. “My first commitment is to customer care, Jerry, and I take that very seriously.”
“Thanks so much for your help, Jacob!” Rob called out while the button was pushed, aiming his voice towards the radio. He and Jacob smirked while waiting for the boss to answer.
I’m glad you watched the training video, Jacob. Get back to Outdoor Supplies.
“Yes, sir,” Jacob said into the radio. Then he made a masturbation-gesture with one hand. “Fuckin’ dickhead. I swear to God, on my last day here, I am gonna beat that pencil-necked shitface until there ain’t nothin’ left to beat.” He paused and sneered down at Rob. “I never said that, by the way. I never threatened him.”
“Okay, yeah, no problem, I didn’t hear anything,” Rob said, breathless as he took a deep breath before resuming his deep-throating of Jacob’s magnificent meat.
Jacob groaned. “Every time I see him I wanna rip his goddamn head off. You heard the way he was talkin’ to me. He’s always like that. Talkin’ to me like I’m a shithead and he’s a fuckin’ saint for givin’ me a job. He’s just a fucking night manager at a All-Mart. That is the smallest amount of power that has ever gone to somebody’s head.”
Don’t forget to take care of the parking lot too, Jacob. You forgot last night.
Jacob scoffed. “I ain’t forget,” he said out loud. “I ain’t nevuh done that, Jerry. Never will neither. He don’t even usually notice if I do it or not.” He pushed the button down on the radio again. “Thanks Jerry, I’ll do that. I can’t wait to go the extra mile to help our customers enjoy our parking lot.”
I could do without the sarcasm.
“Me too!” Jacob said. He kept his eyes aimed down at his cock disappearing in Rob’s throat, and he shuddered as a frisson of pleasure ran up his spine.
Jacob…
“Thanks so much for your direction and management, Jerry. Your customer-centric philosophy and stick-to-it-iveness is really an inspiration to me. You’re like a father to me. Can you explain where babies come from?” Jacob chuckled, making his entire muscular body shift and his cock twitch in Rob’s mouth. Jacob was getting excited now, as his erection sent a wave of adrenaline through his body.
Jacob!
“Will you be my mentor? Heal my troubled soul with the power of customer service!”
Jacob, do I need to come over there?
“I’m with a customer right now, Jerry, giving a hundred and ten percent to make his shopping experience a safe and efficient one,” Jacob said. “Also, I’m respecting diversity.”
Rob nodded, mollywopping himself with Jacob’s cock. “That’s so important.”
Holding the radio in his hand for another minute or two, Jacob watched his dick slide in and out of Rob’s mouth. Soon it was clear that Jerry wasn’t going to respond. He had given up. Jacob scoffed and put the radio back on his belt. “They always make it seem like the radio is a good thing. You have to earn having a radio. But they don’t pay you any more for it, and it just means they get to keep radioing you to tell you to do stuff.”
“Uh-huh,” Rob said. He held onto Jacob’s dick and licked the shaft from tip to root. That made Jacob shudder and moan, and Rob could see the exquisite sensations wracking his body and making his taut muscles ripple.
As precum flooded Rob’s mouth, he gurgled and suckled loudly. He wanted to make Jacob a little uncomfortable, and that’s what the noise did — Jacob kept looking this way and that to be sure no one was coming.
Then a bolt of bliss shot up Jacob’s spine, and his face screwed up. He grunted and looked shocked. He gripped Rob’s ears and held on tight. He began grinding his dick down deep into Rob’s throat. He threw his head back and licked his lips. It looked like he had possibly never received dome that felt this good. His neck was already ruddy to begin with, but as he got more aroused it turned scarlet like a cooked cranberry.
“God-damn boy, I am gonna ride ya face like a buckin’ bronco,” he said with a deep, throaty chuckle. He yee-hawed and whooped, slapping his own thighs and making his meaty muscle tremble. He fed his dick down Rob’s throat, ignoring the resistance he felt. “Relax ya throat, boy. Relax it.” He rubbed Rob’s neck, caressing it gently.
Rob couldn’t breathe. He loved the taste of redneck cock, and he enjoyed watching Jacob plow his throat too. It was so hot he couldn’t resist pulling his own cock out and jacking off.
“Hey, what’s cum taste like?” Jacob asked with a guilty leer, like he wasn’t supposed to ask. He pulled away from Rob’s mouth so he could answer.
Rob took a deep, hoarse, gasping breath. He tried to go back to Jacob’s cock, but Jacob frowned and kept his head away by holding his forehead.
“Huh? What’s cum taste like?”
“Uh… salty, and uh… it’s… hard to describe.” Rob gulped. It was difficult to concentrate right now, with the scent of Jacob’s cock just in front of his nose. He wanted to go back to slurping on it again but Jacob held his head back.
“Is it gross?”
“No. Well, yeah, kinda, but I like it,” Rob said. He blushed.
“Huh. You embarrassed ‘bout it?” he asked. He threw his hands in the air. His cock bobbed, jutting out from his crotch. “You tell ya daddy you jerk off random dudes?”
“You’re not random. I chose you.”
“No offense or nothin’,” he said. He shrugged. “You don’t feel embarrassed swallowin’ cock? Like a girl?”
“I’m not embarrassed,” Rob said with a shrug. Rob’s voice was cut off by that cock sliding back in his throat.
“I just don’t see how this ain’t humiliatin’ for ya,” he said. “You swallowin’ dick. I pee outta there, man. Fuckin’ nasty. It ain’t even, y’know, I ain’t touchin’ ya dick, so it ain’t even like you gettin’ something outta this.”
Rob gurgled. He wanted to explain further, but his mouth was full of dick, and it was hard to explain the allure the male form had for him. Jacob had resumed plowing his face slowly and gently, just hard enough to make Rob sputter a little. Jacob’s sweaty balls slapped against Rob’s chin and rested there.
“Yee-haw!” He lifted his camo shirt over his head, though he didn’t take it off, he just bared his chest. He was thickly built, without a six-pack though his belly was flat. He was moderately hairy and tattooed. “God-damn, boy. You should be ashamed of this. You shouldn’t be makin’ some other man feel good. That ain’t how a real man should act.”
But he didn’t say that like he expected Rob to respond. He put his hand behind his head as though he didn’t like touching Rob, which let Rob use both hands and his mouth on Jacob’s shaft. Rob bore down on his cock until his nose pressed into Jacob’s hairy crotch. He sucked down every drop of precum.
“You can punch me,” Jacob said. He let go of Rob’s head. He got down on his knees across from Rob, so close that Rob could feel his breath condensing on his cheek. Jacob frowned. “Go’n, I got this theory that wusses can be saved. They just ain’t nevuh done nothin’ real manly, you know? You gotta flip that switch to be a real man. Don’t happen to wussies.”
“What?”
“You evuh punch a man?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“Really? A real man?”
“Yes…” Rob said. He sighed. “You really want me to punch you?”
“Yeah. I think it’ll help. I promise, if you do it and you don’t like it, you can go back to jerking me off.” Jacob paused and cocked his head to the side. “You better go back to it, I mean, even if you do like throwing a punch. Don’t blue-ball me, and you gonna have to pay me no matter what.” Jacob stood up straight and lifted Rob up at the same time, so they both stood in the tiny corner of the storage area.
“Fine, I’ll punch you if you want. But then you gotta start cornholing me in the ass,” Rob said. “I wanna feel your dick inside me.”
He scrunched up his nose. “Ew… Fine. You got a tight ass?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t wanna cornhole you if ya sloppy, boy,” Jacob said. He put his hands on his hips. “So go ahead. Punch me.”
Rob nodded. He knew an alpha male like Jacob would never start and then stop because his hole was too lose. That was fine to brag about but not something that any man like that would do. Rob wanted to impress Jacob, so he reared his fist back and punched as hard as he could.
His fist collided with Jacob’s face. Blood spurted from his nose. Jacob stumbled back and would have fallen to the ground except that he was already pinned up against one wall. He just gripped the wood behind himself and supported himself that way.
“Hell yeah, boy!” Jacob shouted. He beamed broadly and wiped a few drops of blood off his face.
Rob was glad he hadn’t embarrassed himself. He had rather hoped he could punch hard enough to knock Jacob down, but that was probably never realistic — Jacob outweighed him considerably, and was a lot tougher, that much was obvious.
“How’d that make ya feel, huh?” Jacob asked.
Rob shrugged. “Nothing really. You ready to ram me?”
He sighed. “Fine. Bend over. Bend over forwards, boy, don’t try and lay on ya back or nothin’, I don’t wanna see your face.”
Rob nodded. He got down on all fours — that was his preferred position anyway. It was perfectly submissive, he thought, bending over like a dog. Jacob’s callused hands gripped Rob’s ass and held on tight as he worked his dick in.
As soon as the tip slid in, Rob let out a moan of pleasure and pain. It hurt bad but that lasted only a few seconds. Once Jacob’s redneck cock hit his prostate, a powerful pang of pleasure rang out deep within Rob. He grunted.
“Ah, shit, you wasn’t kiddin’ ‘bout that tight ass. You should give lessons to my girl,” Jacob said. He relentlessly pounded his cock in, ignoring Rob’s resistance.
Rob moaned uncontrollably. Every movement Jacob made sent a new wave of pleasure through his body. Jacob moved a lot too, not just pivoting his hips but shifting his weight between his legs, clapping his hands together above Rob’s body and shaking his entire chest as he writhed.
Somebody whistled. It was a brief melody, just a few notes, but it sounded very deliberate, almost like a signal.
“Fuck, hey, remember what I said? Remember? This is Terrell. I’m gonna tell him you a snitch-“
That seemed like a bad plan. If Rob weren’t overwhelmed with desire and pressure in his asshole, he would have said so. But he couldn’t bring himself to speak, and in any case, he didn’t have enough time to come up with a better idea.
Terrell appeared right then. He was bopping along to a beat only he heard. When he turned the corner and saw Jacob cock-deep in Rob’s ass, he stopped moving for a moment as though he couldn’t comprehend what he was seeing.
“Take that shit, bitch!” Jacob said with a roar. “Ah, there you is, Terrell. This here is a snitch. My brother sent him-“
“What the fuck are you doin’, boi?!”
Jacob laughed. From Rob’s position with Jacob’s cock in his ass, he could sense that Jacob was uncomfortable bluffing like this, but he needed to puff up his image in front of Terrell. Terrell was a tubby duckydoo, with a big round face and long dreadlocks.
“I’m punishin’ this snitch,” Jacob said.
“What?”
Jacob guffawed. He slapped Rob’s cheeks hard, then punched him in the back. Rob howled in pain, which he exaggerated for effect. Jacob smiled. “Remember my brother in prison?”
“Yeah.”
“This snitch here tried to squeal on ‘im. So when he got out, my brother sent ‘im to me, so I can make ‘im squeal instead.” He paused and grabbed Rob by the hair. “You hear that, bitch? Huh? Squeal like a piggie.”
He drove his dick in so deep and so hard that Rob had trouble doing so. He opened his mouth to let out a delicate, gentle oinking sound, as his whole body undulated with the power of his imminent orgasm.
“Nah, louder, bitch! Huh? Lemme hear it!”
“Oink!” Rob squealed as loud as he could.
“Yeah…” Jacob groaned. He hefted his entire body up over Rob’s back and pressed down. He pinned Rob to the ground, keeping a tight hold on his hair. That upped the pressure and the pleasure emanating from deep in Rob’s asshole.
Terrell watched with wide-eyed amazement. He clutched his belly, and his dreadlocks trembled. “Damn, Jacob, I take back what I said ‘bout whiteboys. You know how to lay down the law.” He paused. “I can’t watch this shit. Jerry is lookin’ for you.”
“Tell Jerry to go fuck his mother.”
Terrell chuckled. “No,” he said. “I ain’t tellin’ him that, cuz you prolly gonna make him do it. Damn, rednecks is crazy.” He walked away, shaking his head. “I am nevuh gonna smoke a blunt there again. Gonna smell like whiteboy booty forevuh.”
Jacob scoffed and chuckled. He smiled. He pinned Rob down, moving his hips from side to side as he shifted his cock around inside Rob’s ass. Though Jacob didn’t notice it, Rob shot his load right then, spraying his wad all over the floor. He shuddered and clenched down on Jacob’s cock.
“Thanks, man,” Jacob said. “He was really impressed.”
“Uh-huh,” Rob said as his orgasm flowed through his veins.
He groaned right into Rob’s ear. “I’m gonna nut now, man, I’m gonna nut. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” It sounded like his orgasm was almost painful — or maybe just so stressful his voice was clipped and tense. He jabbed his dick all the way and moaned loudly, his hairy chest rumbling against Rob’s smooth back.
A hot wad of cum sprayed into him. There was something warm and sunny about it, a summery feeling to its texture, which seemed to fit with Jacob’s redneck look. His breathing was jagged and rough, moistly condensing on Rob’s ear. His muscles rippled.
“Damn, boy…”
“Oink! Oink! Oink!” Rob squealed like a piglet again without waiting for Jacob to demand it
That load of cum spurted into every corner of Rob’s body, its heat seeping into his flesh as Rob squealed. The sound was loud, and he could hear Terrell laughing from not too far away — he must have gone nearby to smoke that blunt, and could hear Rob’s oinking. It was one of the biggest loads Rob had ever taken, great big jets of it filling him up and dripping down between his thighs.
Jacob stayed there for what felt like forever. His cock slowly limpened inside of Rob, who moaned and squirmed. His fingers tightened into claws that dug at the grimy concrete floor beneath him.
“Ah, shit,” Jacob said with a chuckle and a long, slow sigh. He lifted his head up but kept his dick in Rob’s ass. “Hey, boy, I ain’t sayin’ I care on ‘ccount of I ain’t no sissy. I was just… Do I do that good?”
“Wha’?” Rob was too engrossed in his post-orgasmic bliss and the pain in his ass to think of an answer. He fumbled with his wallet to get out the money and pay Jacob.
“Do I do that good? Is my dick good? Like… if you was a girl, and I fucked you like that — in the pussy, not the ass — would that be good? Would you tell ya girlfriends I was good?”
“Uh… I don’t have a vagina, Jacob. I don’t really know-” Rob found it hard to concentrate with Jacob’s rapidly limpening dick in his ass.
“I know, I know, I just mean… Nevermind. What about the ass? Some girls like getting fucked in the ass, right? Is it the same? Like, if I’m good at plowing a man in the ass, does that mean I’d be good at fucking a girl in the ass?” When Rob didn’t immediately respond, Jacob pulled on his hair. “Huh? Pay attention, man, I’m talkin’ at ya.”
“Yeah. You do that good. You really… If a girl likes getting fucked in the ass, she’ll like you fucking her in the ass,” Rob said.
He nodded and sighed. “Okay. I guess that’s pretty good.” He pulled his dick out. Rob sighed grandly. Jacob looked at his ass-juiced cock like it was too gross to touch. “The only girls I know who like anal are sluts. They like anything.”
“Uh-huh. That’s normal. Some nice women like anal, but they probably only ever tell their boyfriends that. So the only women you find out about are the slutty ones. That’s what makes them sluts, after all,” Rob said. He sat up, dizzy and groggy.
“That makes sense.” Jacob nodded. He submitted to Rob getting some paper towels from a roll in storage and wiping Jacob’s dick clean. Jacob watched with intent interest as though there was going to be a test on it later.
The radio on Jacob’s belt flickered into life again. Jerry’s voice filled the air. Jacob. Where are you? I see a cart full of shit in Outdoor Supplies.
Jacob quickly pulled his pants up and smiled. “Jerry,” he said, “You’re not supposed to curse on the radio. My tender ears are in pain. It’s unprofessional and contrary to the All-Mart Statement of Purpose. That’s not a community-building way to speak, Jerry.”
Jacob… Get out here and do the Outdoor Supplies.
Jacob shrugged, as Rob headed for the exit. “Hey, go out the back, man. Terrell gonna be out there smoking his blunt. Act like you scared of me and you runnin’ away.”
“Okay. See ya,” Rob said as he headed out, but Jacob was already ignoring him. Jacob was on the radio needling his boss, while Rob headed out the back door.
He took a deep breath before fresh air — and the fragrant smell of weed — flooded his lungs. Rob managed to pretend to cry as he ran past Terrell and out into the night. Terrell laughed and catcalled after him. Rob didn’t need to pretend to walk bow-legged because his ass did hurt, but it felt good too, and he was still experiencing the aftereffects of his orgasm as he fled into the Nebraska night.
Rob grinned as he ran, revelling in the satisfaction he gained from that more rewarding experience than he thought possible at a second-rate All-Mart in the middle of the night. Jacob was right, he thought, he really did give excellent customer service.