The Sumo Wrestler Bottoms

Bart is in Japan when he gets the chance to punish an alpha male sumo wrestler. Yoshimuzi will do whatever it takes to regain his honor, even if that means bending over and taking what Bart’s got to give!

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Read the whole thing here!

Bart worked for the Bank of Ibaraki nowadays, a small regional bank that sponsored a sumo wrestler named Yoshizumi. The Bank of Ibaraki had been trying to open a Hawaiian branch for years. Bart was helping them out with IT services related to that, but it required him to come to Japan to get to know their services and systems.
So when a major sumo tournament needed a last-minute IT person to come troubleshoot the web streaming, the Bank of Ibaraki had loaned Bart for a day. It seemed like just a free day away from his annoying coworkers and cruel boss.
But when he got there, it wasn’t a day off by any means. There was a lot of work to be done and nobody who could do anything about it but Bart. There were some major problems with the code that protected the web stream, and it wasn’t easy to fix. It took him eighteen hours of constant work and reinstallation of several complex modules, but he got the webstreaming up at the last possible moment. An executive was about to call the television studio to tell them to prepare something else, when Bart finally got the feed going. Bart had been worried he’d shame himself, possibly even get fired — the Bank of Ibaraki did not tolerate failure lightly — so when he realized it was working again, he breathed a sigh of relief.
“You have done good, Bart-san.”
“You have acquitted yourself with honor.”
Not only was he treated as a hero, he was allowed to watch the tournament with executives from the Bank of Ibaraki. They congratulated him and bowed so low to the ground it made him nervous. He knew a lot of sumo tournaments had yakuza connections, which made him wonder how he would have been punished if he failed. The yakuza did not tolerate failure lightly.
Was the Bank of Ibaraki a legitimate bank? Bart was unsure. They weren’t illegitimate — they had real customers, real deposits, real loans, and they received real payments. But Bart couldn’t know how much, if any, of their system was based on crime. It was possible most of the bank’s funds were the proceeds of crime.
“You must be proud of your success. You have saved the tournament for us all,” said the bank executive who showed him to the ritzy box where he could watch the action up close. Bart had no real desire to watch a sumo match, but he wasn’t about to turn it down.
He’d never seen a sumo match before, but he had long had a preference for big and fat men, and sumo wrestlers were among the most arousing. Perhaps their best quality, Bart thought, was not just their thick, heavy, expansive bodies but the powerful muscle they had underneath all that flab.
Really, Bart thought, sumo wrestlers were ideal specimens of man.
Bart nodded to the bank executive and acknowledged his success. He was careful not to appear arrogant about it, and he spoke of the simplicity of the problem. It was time-consuming to fix, he said, but not difficult. He did not explain that it was only a problem because the people who had originally coded the database did a poor job of it — if these people were yakuza-connected, Bart didn’t want to get his predecessors in trouble. Besides, he couldn’t explain what was wrong with the database without getting into a lot of technical details, and he could tell at a glance that this executive would zone out and fail to comprehend basically any of it.
Business executives were pretty much morons.
In the end, Yoshizumi Gagatsu lost, which was anticlimactic — after the Bank of Ibaraki saved the day technology-wise, Bart greatly hoped their sponsored wrestler would win. It seemed thematically inappropriate for Yoshizumi to lose, like Bart deserved to have an all-win day because he had won. He knew that was irrational, he wasn’t owed a positive day.
It just made his own success seem less impressive. Anyway though, he didn’t sulk.
He lingered after the tournament because he didn’t want to wade through the crowds or the traffic. The bank executives had hurried away as soon as they could. According to a conversation he half-overheard, they were going to the locker room He suspected they were planning on scolding Yoshizumi, maybe even punishing him. They had stern looks on their faces. Bart was glad he hadn’t disappointed them — those rumored yakuza connections were credible and frightening. They didn’t suffer failure gladly.
Then a tall man with a broad-barrel craggy body appeared. He bowed and said, “You are the man they call ‘Bart Dazzle’, yes?”
“Yes…”
“Please come with me. Yoshizumi would like to see you.” He turned without waiting for a response.
Bart followed nervously. He now recognized the craggy man as Kazuya Ito, Yoshizumi’s coach (which was called an oyakata, who, like they usually were, was himself a retired sumo wrestler). The oyakata led Bart to the locker room, which was behind the wrestling arena. He held the door open and motioned for Bart to enter, but he did not follow him in. Bart’s heart pounded as he entered.
What am I in for? Oh god they’re going to execute me, I know too much!
The locker room was cold and sterile, and it reeked of cleaning fluid. Bart actually preferred a messier locker room that smelled of manhood, but he wasn’t about to complain. He just went in.
Yoshizumi was there, his round body trembling as he scrubbed the floors. The flab covering his bulging muscles shook, the loincloth-like mawashi belt barely concealing the sweat and pubic hair beneath. Bart felt an onrush of intense and nearly uncontrollable desire. He had always adored champion sumo wrestlers (sekitori) like Yoshizumi. Right now, however, Yoshizumi lacked in confidence and swagger because he lost and had no doubt been scolded by his bosses. Now he had been reduced to scrubbing the sweat of his fellow wrestlers off the floor, wrinkling his nose at the salty, astringent odor that filled the air. His heavyset body jiggled, muscles flexing under all his mass, as he scrubbed at the floor. Yoshizumi frowned when he saw Bart.
“You are Bart?” Yoshizumi looked at Bart as though not comprehending the tiny gaijin’s presence. This was not the kind of tournament that saw a lot of outside visitors.
“Yes.”
“You are the computer man? You fixed the tournament, yes? You made the Internet work again.”
“That’s right,” he said.
“You are good at your job. I have failed today. I have brought shame upon myself,” he said. He stood and hung his head. His pecs flexed beneath his layer of fat — Bart could see his huge muscles beating under all his sumo-trained flesh. Bart would have gladly dropped to his knees and jerked him off right here and now.
But that seemed unlikely to be something Yoshizumi would agree to.
“Uh… Well, I’m sure you did your best,” Bart said. His eyes were drawn to that mawashi belt and the dark crevices behind the waist, where he could almost see the man’s bare cockroot. Bart blushed as he tried to avoid being too obvious about it.
“It was not good enough,” he said. “I must excise my shame. I will regain my honor. I am sorry to have let down my benefactors.” He hung his head. Bart got the impression he was repeating words that had been told to him, that he was told to have this conversation with Bart.
“Oh, okay-” Bart wanted to explain to Yoshizumi that he didn’t need to feel that bad. It was just a wrestling match. There would be more. Of course, if Yoshizumi disappointed the yakuza of Clan Rairaku, he was in for a world of punishment, so maybe he was right to feel bad. Or maybe he had thrown the match and felt guilty about it.
That seemed unlikely. Bart knew the Japanese had a strong ethic about sportsmanship, and Yoshizumi sure looked like he gave it his all out there. Bart sensed the disappointment greatly within him, like Yoshizumi thought he could have won if he had tried harder.
But Bart was too horny to think how to reassure him, and Yoshizumi seemed to think regaining his honor would be what made him feel better.
“You are wanting to do it, yes?” Yoshizumi asked, his heavy brow furrowed. He glared at Bart.
“Do it? Do what?,” Bart said.
“I will have jack off. You want jack off? I will do whatever you want, so as to regain the gathering of my honor.” Yoshizumi’s tone was a mix of hope and dread, as though a part of him wanted Bart to say no and another part was terrified he would refuse.
“What?” Bart thought for sure he had misunderstood. But then Yoshizumi repeated his request. Bart’s heart skipped a beat.
“It will remove shame from my heart,” he said. He blushed and dropped the mawashi he still wore. His cock dangled low and heavy, nice and long, beckoning for Bart to come closer. Yoshizumi’s big body trembled. “Come now. I must do as you order me to. What will you have me do?”
“Well… You really want to jack off with me?”
“Yes. It is necessary to restore honor,” he said. “I must allow myself to service one who is a winner, one who can teach me victory. I am a loser, Bart.” He leaned forward and kissed Bart on the lips, his tongue pushing into Bart’s mouth. “I do not know how to do butt jacking off. You must be having to tell me.” His English had grown more halting now, as he became more nervous.
Bart smiled as a thrill of desire ran through him. He hadn’t thought this quick-and-dirty IT job would turn into some outrageous sumo rough-trade. He blushed and touched Yoshizumi’s bare belly, caressing the soft, worn flesh of his torso.
Though there was, of course, plenty of padding there, Bart was shocked at the amount of muscle as well. The fat barely covered it up. Yoshizumi would have been a musclegod if he lost all that fat — which Bart was glad he hadn’t done. Bart sucked a few beads of sweat off his bellybutton, making Yoshizumi chortle wordlessly, nervously, his body jiggling above Bart’s head.
His flesh was warm and bready, and Bart let himself squeeze into it as he shoved his tongue into Yoshizumi’s mouth. Then he moved down his body, and he slurped the sweat off Yoshizumi’s massive torso. His bellyfat jiggled. Yoshizumi either grunted or groaned or maybe even moaned, or maybe he was ticklish and he laughed when Bart touched him, but any way, when Bart looked up, Yoshizumi was stonefacing as though nothing had happened. His dick twitched though, visible through the trembling of the loincloth-like mawashi that he still wore.
Bart rammed his hand into Yoshizumi’s mawashi, which made the big man blanche. He winced and his muscles all flexed as though he had an instinctual urge to fight Bart. Instead he sighed as his dick flopped loosely between Bart’s fingers.
It was a big, thick dick, uncut and warm, moist with sweat and throbbing in Bart’s grasp. He loved a magnificent manhood, and this was one Bart couldn’t wait to taste. But he wanted to get it hard first, and he wanted to see how far he could take this. What exactly had Yoshizumi been told to do? As Bart began stroking it, Yoshizumi’s dick swelled and pulsated beneath his grasp. Yoshizumi had suggested he would do whatever Bart told him to do. Bart wasn’t sure if he meant that literally or not, but he fully intended to push Yoshizumi to the limit.
“Will you put my dick in your mouth?” Bart asked. His voice sounded weak and frail in this locker room, which had an aura of power and machismo.
Bart wondered how many sumo wrestlers had jacked off together here before. He wished he had been around after every tournament. Though the locker room was clean and smelled of soap, he sensed beneath that the smell of sweat and bamboo, cloying and thick in the air. Manhood reeked through the lockers and soaked into the floors. The clean surfaces were only superficial, whereas Bart savored the filth.
Yoshizumi frowned but nodded his head. He sunk to his knees, but Bart directed him to lay on his back. The folds of his substantial belly jiggled as he got into position. He lay on a clean mat in an open area — apparently meant for pre-match stretching — in the back of the locker room. Outside, Bart could hear the hustle and bustle of the audience as they filed out into the parking lot; it was exciting, to hear the public just a few feet away, even if there was a wall of solid concrete keeping him protected from sight.
“I will get you off too,” Bart said. He glanced at Yoshizumi for a response, but Yoshizumi said nothing.
His horniness was so intense that Bart could do little more than repeat himself, hoping Yoshizumi wouldn’t say no or leave. But Yoshizumi looked like he had no choice and was resigned to this encounter.
Bart thought sixty-nining would be a good way to get him a little excited about it. Bart realized only at the last moment that Yoshizumi’s huge size was going to make it difficult to get into position. He certainly couldn’t mount Yoshizumi’s entire body. Even if Yoshizumi were a normal size, he was much too thick for Bart’s tiny frame.
“Yes that is good okay for certainly,” Yoshizumi said, gasping, spit dripping from his lips. He sounded like he was much too distracted to remember English grammar. “We will do it in sixty-nine style.” He laid on his back.
Bart had to bend his slim frame over that bulging gut, which he gripped like a liferaft as he reached for Yoshizumi’s cock. That was a somewhat awkward position for Bart, but it was also exactly what he wanted — it felt like he was making love to that powerful sumo belly itself. He draped himself over it and let the fresh, clean sweat there mingle with his own.
Once they were both in position, Yoshizumi swallowed Bart’s dick, his big throat stretching to accommodate it. He gagged when it hit his tongue but that didn’t slow him down any, and the sound of his choked sputtering even sounded somewhat desirous, as though he had learned to appreciate the salty manliness of Bart’s cock. Warmth suffused Bart’s body, and he moaned even before they had begun.
“Oh, yes, Yoshizumi…”
Bart licked Yoshizumi’s dick from root to tip, his own body trembling as he got hard right away. The fat and muscle beneath him quivered with a mixture of desire and anxiety, which made Yoshizumi’s cock also rocket right to full erection. Eventually he moaned around Bart’s dick and seemed to forget that he had been unwilling to keep going.
Soon they were both rock-hard and leaking precum, while Yoshizumi loudly suckled, sputtering and letting occasional aggressive gag. Bart’s balls slammed against Yoshizumi’s face.
When he felt his orgasm approach, Bart knew he needed to stop. He didn’t want this to be over so soon, and it was obvious that Yoshizumi did not wish to swallow his cum. Bart desperately wanted to do so, but he had a better idea. He thought he could get Yoshizumi to take this even farther.
Then Bart stood, pulling his dick out of Yoshizumi’s cock. His orgasm receded just in time, and pained frustration flowed up Bart’s body. He forced himself to be still, and he smiled at Yoshizumi, who winced and nodded his agreement — he knew what was coming next.
Bart’s long dick pulsated as he got excited thinking about how this was going to feel; it was exactly a fantasy he had had since he was a little boy watching sumo matches on TV. Yoshizumi was even more handsome than any of the sumo wrestlers he had seen back then, or maybe Yoshizumi wasn’t more handsome, he just seemed more real because he was right in front of Bart’s face.
Yoshizumi’s ass was twice as wide as Bart’s body, so Bart felt like even more of a slim young twink than ever. He had to stand on his toes to get into Yoshizumi’s ass from the right angle. It took both hands to separate his asscheeks, baring his tight hole.
When he did succeed, however, he moaned exquisitely. Pleasure flowed up his body with just the first inch of his dick in that tight ass — beneath the thick layer of pudge, Yoshizumi’s ass was strong and hard. Bart struggled to separate those mountainous asscheeks far enough, and his fingers clutched the man’s hairy crack-flesh. It was almost enough to send him over the edge, especially when Yoshizumi’s cheeks involuntarily flexed. He was so powerful beneath the flab that it was like his ass had gripped Bart’s manhood and fingers.
“You have to loosen up, Yoshizumi. Just relax. I will not hurt you, and you are so much bigger than me it will not hurt much. You can tell me to stop if it is too much,” Bart said.
Yoshizumi nodded his understanding but didn’t say anything. He gritted his teeth and averted his eyes from Bart’s gaze. H was on his belly now, so he just looked down to the floor of the locker room he had just cleaned and buried his face in his forearm.
He grunted as he accepted Bart’s dick. He bit his lip, trying to avoid showing his pain, and then a flush of red hit his face. That suggested to Bart that he felt a surge of pleasure as well, but was probably too insecure right now to admit it. Bart could feel the man’s spongy prostate tingling as he stimulated it, and he could practically see the pleasure through the rippling of Yoshizumi’s flesh.
While Bart began fucking harder and harder, he reached around Yoshizumi’s body the best he could. He wasn’t surprised to find that he couldn’t give a reacharound as he intended. His arms weren’t even remotely close to long enough. Yoshizumi’s powerful belly was in the way. Bart enjoyed trying though, straining to reach all the way around that massive frame of quivering muscular flesh.
“If you lay on your back, I’ll jack you off,” Bart said. “I can’t reach from here.”
He shook his head. “I do not deserve to feel pleasure.”
“Nonsense, of course you do. You made a little mistake, Yoshizumi, relax. Besides, you said you would do what you needed to, in order to please me, right? Well I wanna jack you off while I stick it in you. That’s what’ll please me.”
Yoshizumi nodded then. Bart pulled out as Yoshizumi’s giant body flipped over. He lifted his legs up. Ordinarily, Bart would hold a man’s legs up while fucking him in this position, but each of Yoshizumi’s legs probably weighed more than Bart. He was obviously not going to be able to hold them in place.
But luckily since Yoshizumi was such an athlete, he had plenty of muscle. He could keep his legs elevated for a very long time, his outrageous thigh muscles thick like corded rope beneath his layer of fat. He winced again as Bart re-penetrated him but his moan turned from pain to pleasure when Bart grabbed his dick.
He was already hard, and he resumed leaking precum the moment Bart began to stroke him. With every thrust of Bart’s dick, Yoshizumi’s flab trembled, his giant muscles flexed, his ass clenched and his dick spasmed beneath Bart’s fingers.
“Oh god yes, thank you, I feel better already,” Yoshizumi said, his voice still tight and pinched. It was clear that he was in pain, but from his tone and the way his cock pulsated in Bart’s fingers, it was clear he felt a deep, abiding pleasure as well.
Mister Gogatsu?! boomed a deep voice from the other end of the locker room. It was a man, who sounded stern, authoritarian, and a bit uneasy.
“Yes!” Yoshizumi said, calling out as loud as he could muster while he was in pain. Bart froze mid-penetration, his blood running cold as he wondered if Yoshizumi would get kicked out of the league if they were caught.
Are you done? You are requested again in the executive suite.
“No, I’m doing it now. I promise. Come see and you will know-“
No. I do not wish to see. I will report to the bosses that you will be upstairs shortly. Do not disappoint.
“Yes, Gakimosimi-san,” Yoshizumi said. He frowned until the locker room door slammed shut. Then he breathed a sigh of relief. “That was an enforcer for Clan Rairaku. They… own my contract,” he said.
Vicarious fear ran through Bart’s spine. If he had been thinking clearly, he would have realized that that man was yakuza, come to check that Yoshizumi was satisfying his debt of shame. The yakuza were terrifying, and Bart was glad he hadn’t known that’s what was going on at the time or he would have fled.
But now they were alone again, and Bart began plowing harder and harder at Yoshizumi’s powerful behind. Since Yoshizumi’s ass was so big, Bart had no problem slamming his rod in all the way in and out. It didn’t cause Yoshizumi too much pain, and though he was tight, he was too big for his tightness to be a problem.
Intense pleasure rocketed through Bart’s body. His back arched as he plunged his dick in and out. There was so much to Yoshizumi’s body that Bart felt like he was ensconced in the man’s rolling drapes of flesh. He even had a perfect amount of chest hair, a lot for a Japanese man..
Fat rolls rippled above Yoshizumi’s muscular frame, and the big man moaned with pleasure. He began feeling up his own nipples with one hand. Bart used both of his hands on Yoshizumi’s thick dick, which was veiny and bulgy, cum coursing through it as they both writhed together.
“I’m going to cum! Oh god!”
They both shot their loads at the same time, Bart just a minute or two before Yoshizumi. Intense, indescribable pleasure wafted through his body as he sprayed his load within Yoshizumi’s plump ass. Yoshizumi moaned, a cringing sound that suggested both agony and bliss.
Then cum sprayed over Bart’s hand and Yoshizumi’s jiggling belly. It coated Bart’s fingers as Yoshizumi’s entire body shook and vibrated. He gasped, cursing in surprise at how powerful his orgasm was. Wave after wave of pleasure rampaged through his body, as Yoshizumi experienced a potent climax.
Few women had ever brought him to such pleasure, making Yoshizumi’s whole body jiggle and shake. Yoshizumi gasped. He tried to remain staid and nonplussed, but Yoshizumi couldn’t handle the intense feelings rollicking him. No woman could make him feel like that, he thought with a chest-rattling sigh.
His cumwad was thick and creamy, and it seemed to go on forever.
Bart smiled as he pulled out and licked all the cum off his fingers. It tasted clean and vibrant, like a mossy forest, and he moaned with the aftershocks of his orgasm. Yoshizumi’s massive body loomed before him like a colossus, and Bart let his tongue wrap around Yoshizumi’s folds. He sucked on his big meaty nipples.
“I thank you, Bart,” Yoshizumi said. His face was red, a smile creeping over his face as he grasped Bart on the shoulder. The sensations roiling through his body were too potent to ignore, so his voice rattled and broke. “You have allowed me to regain my honor.”
“Anytime,” Bart said. “I love sumo.” He smiled and pulled away. He sighed before putting his clothes on. He was suddenly glad he had come to Japan and especially glad he had fixed that webstream.
This was a wonderful country.

The Repairman

Rob is hiring another handyman, this time to fix his air conditioner. When he ends up with the hunky Bellamy Harshfield and his studly grandfather Lyle, Rob knew which one he liked best… Rob likes his meat finely aged, so before he knows it, he’s on his knees! Can Bellamy handle his handsomeness being rejected for his grandfather’s alpha-male manhood?!

Read it now as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Rob took a nervous step back, his heart pounding. The two repairmen came into his house, and he felt a few tinges of sweat on his brow. His plan was working as intended. After accidentally getting the wrong repairmen a couple times, he had been worried it would happen again. But these two were Bellamy and Lyle Harshfield, exactly whom he had been hoping for.
They talked — and Rob responded a bit without paying much attention — about the air conditioner. It wasn’t working. It was sweltering in here, and Rob was glad to see them. But he was glad, not just because the air conditioner should start working soon, but also because they were both hot.
The younger one was Bellamy Harshfield, and he was a gorgeous dreamboat: blond, dimpled, smooth-cheeked, no doubt apple-bottomed and with a cock to match. He was nineteen, just barely, and he had all the vim and vigor befitting a man of that age. He was sprightly, ropy muscled like an old sailor, like he retained all the power of a younger man but had it condensed into these compact limbs that still had room for a little padding.
But Rob had no interest in young studs like Bellamy. Bellamy probably had a legion of pretty girls chasing him around with their tits flopping about. Rob wasn’t interested in men like him, women could have them.
He liked the older one, Lyle, who was not just a bit older — he was Bellamy’s step-grandfather. He was gloriously imperfect in his dad-bod, which brimmed with muscle and power even if he wasn’t carved out of alabaster like Bellamy. His body crammed more muscle into a smaller frame, giving him a dense and meaty look. Lyle was shorter, hairier, with fuzz sticking out from under his dingy old tee shirt, extending up to his shoulders. He was balding, and he was thick-bodied — so was Bellamy, but Lyle had more of a squarish shape, like he had gotten so big for so long his body no longer knew what to do with the muscle he had grown. His hair was dirty-blond too, just like Bellamy’s, but now grayish and thin unlike Bellamy’s dense shock of action-hero hair.
They went to the air conditioner just outside the house, and Rob hung around inside, positioning himself so he could see them. Lyle attracted all of his attention. He bent over to inspect the air conditioner, showing Bellamy what he saw and explaining how to fix it.
“Hold this!” Lyle said with a snarl — Bellamy had failed to pay close enough attention, and now Lyle was in a bad mood. “You damn fool boy, quit messin’ around.”
“Sorry, Gramps,” Bellamy said with a sigh. He took his cell phone out and peered at it, trying to look like he still paid attention to Lyle even while he texted a girl.
“This here is the intake valve. Most of the time when they go kaput like this, without a smoke or a smell — or a — hey, boy, you put that motherfuckin’ game boy down and pay attention-“
“It ain’t a Game Boy, Gramps. No one’s played Game Boys for like twenty years-“
“That was what ya Pa used to play-“
“Yeah, I know, Gramps. It’s cool. I know how to tighten a valve,” Bellamy said with a scoff. He ran his fingers through his hair.
“Oh?” He handed the wrench to Bellamy, who took it hesitantly. He hefted the wrench in one hand. Then Lyle ran his own fingers through his hair, just like his step-grandson had moments before. Lyle’s hair was thinner though, like his forehead was mugging his scalp very slowly, and he ran his fingers through the threadbare patch as though he was used to having more hair than he actually had.
Bellamy approached the air conditioner. He tried to attach the wrench, but Lyle rolled his eyes and sighed. Bellamy fumbled with it until Lyle bent over to help again.
“There,” Lyle said. “You best pay attention, son. I am teachin’ you a trade. You know when I was growin’ up, this was the only way to learn a skill. Men fought over the chance to learn this kinda shit.”
“That’s cuz no one had invented books yet, Gramps!” Bellamy said, chuckling. “You had to ask your local lord for permission to learn how to read-“
“Oh, hush your face,” Lyle said. He tightened the valve himself. “You know, if you would ever apply your goddamn fool self you could maybe learn a little something, make a life for yourself-“
“Gramps, come on, I’ve got a life for myself. I’ve got like two thousand instagram followers who are into my sick abs,” Bellamy said. He lifted up his shirt to show off his perfect six-pack. He ran his fingers up the ridges of muscle there. “See?”
“Used to be only girls worried about their bellies.”
“In the olden days! I don’t wanna be fat! It’s bad for you, Gramps!”
“You been hanging out with that foolish girl with green hair-“
“She’s my girlfriend, Gramps, her name is Meredith and I love her-“
“Then put a ring on it!”
“Give me a ring!” Bellamy said. He threw his hands in the air.
Lyle scoffed and waved his grandson away. He returned to fixing the air conditioner. His hairy arms flexed, gleaming with sweat, biceps bulging. Bellamy resumed playing with his phone, ignoring his grandfather who continued to fix the air conditioner. Still inside the house, Rob watched Lyle’s plump granddad-ass sway in his overly baggy jeans — it looked like he had gotten frustrated trying to find jeans that fit according to the style of his youth and had ended up with these preposterously baggy jeans that made him look like he beat up a rapper to steal his clothes.
“You don’t know jack-shit about girls nowadays, Gramps. That’s why you never get any pussy-“
“I get plenty of pussy!” Lyle shouted. He grunted. He glanced towards the house and saw Rob. “You’re gonna get a complaint, son. Shut that facehole.”
“You’re the one shouting about pussy.”
“You gonna offend the homeowner-!”
“That homeowner is a sensitive sort, Gramps, he’d scream in terror at the sight of a pussy,” Bellamy said with a laugh. “He’d prolly like you.”
“Nah. Nancy-boys like clean, long-haired guys with pretty faces and doe eyes. He’d probably cotton to you. Maybe you could dump that green-haired communist you been with and hook up wit’ him. At least he got a house,” Lyle said.
“She’s not a communist, she’s a socialist.”
“Ain’t that the same thing?”
“No,” Bellamy said. His voice was unsure though, and it sounded like he could not have explained the difference. “They’re… She has beliefs that are… Just shut up, Gramps.”
“You put a ring on that yet?”
“You know I can’t afford one, I will, I’m savin’ up for it,” Bellamy said. “I’ll have enough by the end of the year.”
“Hey,” Rob said. He came to the door, and they both turned to look at him. He smiled at them both in turn.
“Ya air conditioner should be fixed soon, suh,” Lyle said. He looked down and mumbled a little, like he had never really gotten used to speaking to men so respectfully. “Sorry ‘bout the salty language. My grandson here is a-” He paused, seemingly unable to think of a non-obscene word to use. Finally, he came up with “dumbass”.
Rob smiled. “Don’t worry. It takes a lot more than that to offend me,” he said. “I happened to hear that you needed an engagement ring for your girlfriend?”
Bellamy blushed. “I mean… I ain’t, y’know, sure we gonna get married, or whatever, I mean, you know, I was just sayin’, like, I’m thinkin’ ‘bout — I love her, for real, for sure, man, and she ain’t no communist. I just, I think, I ain’t sure, I wanna like, I mean, I know-“
“Okay, shut up, son, that communist pussy has turned your tongue into a retard,” Lyle said. “You shouldn’t eat so goddamn much —pussy ” He glanced back at Rob again. “Sorry… I mean, vagina…” It sounded like he had possibly never said the word vagina out loud before.
Rob waved that off and took out his phone. “How much do I owe you for the air conditioner?”
“Eighty bucks.”
He activated the PayUp to pay the bill. “Would you two like to earn an extra thousand dollars? You could buy a nice engagement ring for that.”
“Shit, yeah,” Bellamy said.
“Whatevuh you need, suh,” Lyle said.
“Well… I admire a man with a marvelous physique,” Rob said. “So I was wondering, for a thousand dollars-“
“Ha! He want a taste of ya meat, boy!” Lyle said. “You gonna do the prison-tango!” He grabbed for Bellamy’s crotch, but Bellamy blushed and smacked his hand away.
“Gramps, let go!” Bellamy’s mouth was agape.
“You gonna earn that engagement ring the hard way, boy!”
Rob cleared his throat. “I don’t think communists do engagement rings. It’s too bourgeoisie.”
“She’s not communist!”
Rob smiled and squeezed Bellamy’s biceps. “You’re adorable, and I bet your little Maoist girlfriend loves your body-“
“I don’t know what that means, but she’s not a Maoist either.”
“I’m not interested in you though,” Rob said. He turned to Lyle, whose balding head gleamed. His tee-shirt was soaked with sweat even though he hadn’t done much work yet and it wasn’t even too hot outside. Lyle looked at him like he was confused. Rob came closer. “I like my meat finely aged.”
Lyle furrowed his brow.
“You like me?”
Rob nodded. He placed a hand on the waist of Lyle’s jeans. “I like you a lot. So how about you let me take a taste, and I give you a thousand dollars, and if your would-be granddaughter-in-law deserves it, you buy her that engagement ring. Or if not, you can buy her a beet with which she can make borscht,” Rob said. He smacked his lips. “It’s a win-win.”
They were both shocked. Bellamy was so handsome girls threw themselves at him. He’d fucked his math teacher, he nearly banged his way into college, but he ended up going to business with his stupid dad instead. On several occasions, old men had offered him money on the street to give them his undershirt or jockstrap. Bellamy had done some modeling for a local hot tub store.
So Bellamy thought he should be the one Rob paid. It was ridiculous that Rob liked his grandfather. It didn’t quite compute in Bellamy’s mind, and he kept thinking it was a prank. He watched as Rob sunk to his knees in front of Lyle. Lyle was balding, with just a perimeter of faded hair around his head, scalp gleaming with sweat.
Though he tried to hide it, Lyle was just as surprised as Bellamy. If he had known he was the object of Rob’s desire, Lyle would have never responded like he did. He only wanted to embarrass his cocky grandson and make him earn that thousand dollars so he would hurry up and get married. Lyle didn’t know that it was him whom Rob preferred.
“Ah, damn…” Lyle tried to look confident. When he was growing up, things were different. Stuff happened in the YMCA shower. That’s where it all went down back then.
But only really tough guys went around ramrodding freaks in the YMCA shower. Lyle never did. He always thought he could if he got real horny, but he never got over his hangups about it. What if somebody tried to ramrod Lyle? What if he got another man’s cum on his hand? All those things seemed very important back in the 1970s, when Lyle and his fellow factory workers had crowded cock-in-crack into overstuffed showers, teasing each other about who got hard and who had a tiny dick.
Rob popped Lyle’s dick in his mouth. It tasted like old-guy-cock, Rob thought, like old-fashioned unscented bar soap. There was a faintly bitter taste to it and a mark that ran along the shaft — a small scar. It was big and his balls were so heavy and low-hanging that Rob couldn’t help but pop them both in his mouth. His sac was hairy and wrinkled and tasted so good Rob let out a little moan.
“Ah, damn, Gramps, he’s slurpin’ on ya balls, that’s nasty,” Bellamy said. He laughed, and his laughter slowly grew due to his anxiety, until he was red-faced and giggling like a schoolgirl. “He’s eatin’ ya fromunda juice. Oh shit!”
His balls were sour and strongly flavored, with a potent enough flavor to bring tears to Bellamy’s eyes. Rob lazily stroked Lyle’s cock with his other hand, while he savored the flavor of his worksweat-soaked sac, his tongue snaking to tease out every drop of manly juices. Lyle’s shaft was still soft, just barely starting to perk up in rob’s grip. Neither Rob nor Lyle were in any particular hurry.
When Lyle took his shirt off, his dick now totally hard and throbbing in Rob’s mouth, his grandson did the same — a part of Bellamy still didn’t quite understand why Rob would pick Gramps instead of him. He thought maybe Rob just needed to see his perfect six-pack and tapered torso.
Why are you trying to talk him into it? Just be glad he picked Gramps. Bellamy would have felt compelled to agree if Rob had chosen him. There was nothing he couldn’t do with his dick. He brought girls to orgasm in no time. Black girls! Those black girls would never go for Gramps.
Well, the one who was a whore would. But, you know, Gramps wouldn’t make her cum like Bellamy did.
It would have been humiliating to say no to Rob, which was why Bellamy was glad, though indignant, that he wasn’t chosen.
Resuming deep-throating Lyle’s cock, Rob forced that entire rod down his gullet until his nose was nestled in Lyle’s pubic hair. He didn’t trim his pubes, unlike most men these days. Rob appreciated that. Lyle didn’t even know he was old-fashioned for letting his pubic bush grow free. Rob reached up to tweak Lyle’s nipples, making his powerful pecs ripple. Lyle was smaller than his massive grandson, of course, his skin a little shriveled, like a muscular raisin. But those marks and imperfections were precisely what Rob thought was sexy.
He had no interest in a smooth, perfect chest, he liked the meaty realness of Lyle’s body. He was brimming with power, body heat emanating off him, and his body was perfectly padded, giving him just enough flesh for Rob to play with as he handled Lyle’s meat.
When Rob pulled off his dick, he croaked, mouth full of precum, “You taste so good… Hit me with your cock, daddy.” He kept his mouth open and his tongue out. Lyle looked at him like he didn’t want to do it, but he gamely smacked Rob’s tongue and cheeks with his cock.
After doing it a few times, Lyle bristled and puffed up his chest. He couldn’t help but feel good — he had long ago been dumped by a girl because he asked her if he could mollywop her — that was what he called it when you smacked someone in the face with your dick — and she had said yes, then got offended that he did it (she thought it was just another word for a blowjob). Lyle thought it would be hot for her, so he had been offended that she was upset by his cock. It turned into a huge fight that ended the relationship. Seemed silly now.
So Lyle liked doing it now, smacking Rob and watching him chase his cock with his mouth. Then finally Rob got it back on his tongue, slathering spit all up and down the shaft. Lyle leaned his head back and moaned.
Bellamy had backed way up by then. He couldn’t believe he was watching this, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Am I really gonna watch my grandfather bust a nut? He was technically a step-grandfather, no blood relation. But Bellamy still couldn’t bring himself to look away.
Gramps has got a veiny cock. I bet my cock is smoother. Bellamy wanted to ask whether smoother was better, but he wasn’t going to admit he had looked at his grandfather’s dick.
“Hmm… Ram me, please! I need to feel your dick inside me!” Rob hadn’t planned on asking for Lyle to wreck his ass — he didn’t think Lyle would do it with his grandson right there. But he glanced up into Lyle’s sun- and wind-weathered face and saw desire there. He could tell Lyle wanted something more intense.
Sure enough, Lyle was glad to ram him. He snarled like it was a big imposition though. He realized only as Rob bent over with his ass in the air that he should have asked for more money. But now that he had wedged his dick into Rob’s tight ass, there was no way he could get paid for it, now that it was obvious he’d do it for free.
“Fine, boy, I’ll get inside ya-” He turned to Bellamy, who gasped and closed his eyes. “Come closer.” He slapped Bellamy’s cheek. “That’s for actin’ like a right prude, son. Just cuz you ain’t done time don’t mean you gotta act like a nun.”
“Man, Gramps… Was you a booty bandit in prison?”
“Shut the fuck up,” Lyle said. He had never rammed a man in prison, not if you define ‘ram’ in a certain way. He did give a reacharound or two, which ain’t a proper ramming by prison rules. At least prison rules as of back in the day, back when things was proper. He was glad to look tough in front of his grandson, who was so muscular and thick that Lyle sometimes felt inadequate. When he first saw Bellamy getting big and athletic, years ago, he thought he couldn’t wait for the day his grandson was stronger than he was. But now it just made him feel old, and feeling that way made him feel like a selfish, shitty grandfather.
A shock of pleasure shot up Lyle’s spine, reminding him that he was here to ram and make money, not show off to his grandson. He liked that Rob writhed beneath him, submitting to his power like he liked it. Rob grunted and moaned, orgasmic bliss flowing through his veins.
The best part of getting rammed by a huge cock, Rob thought, was how awkward and technically bad it was — Lyle tried to avoid touching Rob more than necessary, and he avoided looking at his own cock too much as it slid into Rob’s ass. That made it a difficult process, with awkward angles and moist grunts in Rob’s ear. It also made it last longer. Rob’s orgasm dragged on as Lyle rammed him hard, stimulating his prostate hard and shooting his wad deeply into Rob’s tight ass.
Bellamy winced and stepped away, still unable to close his eyes or turn his head as he watched both men orgasm. His grandfather bucked and slammed into Rob, both of them going to the floor, where Rob squirmed beneath Lyle’s body. Exquisite sensations wracked Lyle’s muscles and Rob’s more delicate frame.
It felt better than Rob was expecting. Lyle’s fat dick expertly slammed into his prostate, sending pangs of pleasure to erupt throughout his body. Rob cried out, and Lyle chuckled, the motion of which made his dick piston like a battering ram into Rob’s ass. Each thrust sent another wave of jizz to fill him up.
“Ah, goddamn, boy…” Lyle’s voice was gravelly and tense, resonant in Rob’s ear. Some drops of spit landed on Rob’s earlobe. “Shit…”
“Uh, I- I… uh…” Rob was unable to talk as cum flowed into him. Lyle buckled, grinding his dick in Rob. Warm, creamy cum coated Rob’s insides, a bigger load filling him up than he thought possible from such an old man.
“Shit!” Lyle said once more. He grabbed Rob’s hair, intending to pull off him but keep a grip on his hair until he paid up. Then an aftershock of his orgasm roiled him, and Lyle just found himself plowing Rob again, ramming his limpening dick in and out. That made a big frothy mess as cum dripped out and all over the floor.
Unable to breathe due to how good this felt, Lyle closed his eyes, keeping a tight grip on Rob’s hair. His dick softened in Rob’s ass, while Rob whimpered and gasped for air. The pressure in his body was intense.
“Oh god!” Rob screamed. A final few drops of jizz hit his prostate, and a tsunami of bliss wracked his body. That was when Rob at last reached his own orgasm. His hand furiously whacked at his own meat, and his moan turned into a low-melting groan as his knees went weak. He was supported entirely in Lyle’s powerful arms.
A jet of cum spurted onto the floor in front of Rob. It felt like Lyle had already been cumming for hours, and Rob experienced every moment of that as though it was his own. But now his own orgasm flooded his veins like melted butter, and his sensitive dick throbbed in his grip.
That lasted only until Lyle wrapped one arm around Rob and kissed him on the cheek. He stroked him off silently, right there in front of his grandson, who shielded his eyes and blushed and chuckled and groaned and complained and shrugged all at once. But Lyle got both hands on Rob’s dick to pull him through the last of his orgasm, and he didn’t need to say that this was a secret, that he didn’t want his grandson to know he was giving a reacharound, that the reason he said he didn’t ramrod a man in prison was that at the time it didn’t count if you gave a reacharound, so the reason he did it now was to show his respect and appreciation for the ecstasy Rob had given him.
At last, Lyle pulled out and sighed. He smacked one of Rob’s cheeks. He looked to his grandson. “See, boy? That’s how a real man does it.”
“Shut up, Gramps… That’s how an old man does it.”
Lyle glared at Rob. “You gonna pay up?” His dick glistened and shone with all the fluids dripping off it. Lyle hefted it in one hand and smirked at his grandson, who was back to holding his face in his hands and groaning like a sad mummy. Lyle winked at Rob, who blushed and nodded.
“Of course,” Rob said. He took his phone out and started tapping, as he got the payment details from Bellamy — Lyle didn’t have PayUp, of course, he considered all smartphones to be namby-pamby bullshit. He was right, but Rob still had one, and he paid it to Bellamy to pass on to his grandfather.. “I’ll put finely-aged meat in the memo field,” Rob said as he tapped his way through the signature screen. “Let me know if you’ve got poker buddies or whatever. I can set up a gloryhole for the night. They gotta be your age though.”
“Oh that’s nasty,” Bellamy said. His cheeks burned red as though it was him that was embarrassed about it. He sneered at Rob. “You’re nasty.”
“Shut up, boy, you’re just jealous,” Lyle said. His face was ruddy, beads of sweat collecting on the worry-wrinkles beneath his eyes. He finally wiped his dick off with Bellamy’s shirt, which lay on the floor still. Bellamy didn’t notice his grandfather cleaning santorum off his shaft with his shirt, which made Lyle chuckle and put out a mischievious smile.
Rob smiled. “No, he’s right. It is nasty, but that’s why I like it,” he said. “Thanks for fixing the air conditioner, and good luck with your communist marriage.”
“Socialist! She assured me there’s a difference.”

The Home Invaders

When Avery is woken up by a home invasion in progress, he never thought it would end like this!

Read it now as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

After spending years living with roommates, Avery was overjoyed at finally having a home of his own. He rented a house in the inner-city. It was a run-down, two-bedroom affair, broken windows sealed up with cardboard and all, a stamp-sized front yard that was all brown like a mummified lawn. But it was Avery’s first chance to live totally on his own, and he had never felt more independent than when he first slept in his new bed there.
It wasn’t the nicest neighborhood, but it wasn’t the worst either. Avery didn’t even really care about how nice the neighborhood was — he could take care of himself.
Or so he thought. One night, just a few weeks after moving in, his ability to defend his home was put to the test. Avery woke up before dawn to the sound of a man breaking in.
Maybe two men.
His heart nearly leapt out of his chest. He grabbed the pepper spray he kept in his bedroom and hurried into the hallway.
There were two men there.
Avery stepped into the bathroom so they wouldn’t see him just yet. The closer one was young, handsome, short and lanky, but with bulging muscles beneath his baggy clothes. He had tight cheekbones and a smooth chin, cute but thinks he’s handsome, like an adorable newt. Avery might have seen him before, maybe at the bodega? He caught Avery’s eye because he had those dimples you could do dishes in.
The other one, who was unplugging the television in the living room, was bigger and older, scruffy, cornrowed and lighter-skinned. He was heavyset like a professional wrestler, with a craggy face like a lighthouse keeper. He had a deep scratchy voice too, and his smooth panther-like movements contradicted his apparent roughness, age and heavyset frame. Avery was a great appreciator of male physiques, and both of these men had remarkable ones.
There was no time to consider that though. Avery needed to get to his phone, so he could call the police.
“Yo, Rico, help me pack up this Playstation,” said the older one.
“Yeah, Thumper, in a sec.” Rico — the younger, handsome one — glanced down the hall. He looked worried, in contrast to Thumper’s confident glare. Rico seemed uncertain of whether he had seen movement.
Holding his breath, Avery hid deeper in the bathroom, looking around for anything he could use as a weapon.
“Rico! Nigga, come on!” Thumper said. “Nobody here, okay? Just help me get this shit!”
Rico sighed. He turned around.
Avery wished he had his cell phone with him so he could call the police, but he had stupidly plugged it in using a kitchen outlet — he was all out of outlets in his bedroom. Now it seemed so simple, he could have unplugged something he wasn’t going to use tonight. There were a ton of reasons to keep his phone near the bed.
Wait! A memory lightbulbed up in Avery’s mind. He had put that box of stuff in the bathroom closet, the box with the flashlight and stuff from that one drawer in the apartment — the drawer that was beside the door in his old apartment, which was why he put the pepper spray in that drawer. The pepper spray was in the closet.
While the two home invaders were stacking up Avery’s television and Playstation by the door, Avery silently opened the bathroom closet. He rifled through the box until he found the pepper spray.
Just around the corner, in the hall, Rico opened the hall closet — which was adjacent to the bathroom closet Avery was in, though neither of them knew they were a few feet from each other, practically looking at each other despite the wall in the way. Rico whistled in surprise, which was when Avery realized where he was.
“Thought you said it was just a single man living here,” Rico said.
“Yup.”
“He got a closet full of women’s clothes,” Rico said.
That seemed to throw Thumper for a loop. Avery couldn’t see from his vantage point, but he thought Thumper was looking in the closet too. That meant they were both facing away from the bathroom.
This is your opportunity, he told himself. He crept out of the bathroom closet and quietly pushed the bathroom door open.
“Tall woman too,” Thumper said. “Prolly an ex-wife or some shit. Go on and look in the bedroom-“
“Fuck you, assholes!” Avery screamed and came into the living room, pepper spray in hand. He realized only when Thumper and Rico looked at him that he had never looked closely at this pepper spray. He didn’t know how to use it, or whether there was some kind of safety latch he needed to remove first. Sure enough, when he pressed the trigger, nothing happened. The can of pepper spray was unopened, and Thumper lazily knocked it out of Avery’s hand.
For a moment, all was silent. Thumper and Rico looked at Avery as though they had never seen a white man before. Avery was too scared to move.
Thumper chuckled. “Oh, damn. Someone is here.”
“Don’t hurt me!”
“Tie him up in his room,” Thumper said. He turned around to look in the drawers of the desk in the living room. He picked up an old iPod as though considering stealing that, then decided it wasn’t worth it. He set it back down.
Rico approached Avery with the confident, cocky glare of a thug. Avery, embarrassed at having been outmatched so easily, felt a surge of adrenaline — if he let these home invaders dictate what happened here, this would end up bad for sure.
“Goan, man,” Rico said. “Get to the bedroom.” Despite his confident demeanor, Avery could tell he was wavering. He had never done anything this violent.
“No. Fuck you,” Avery said. “Get outta my house.”
“Just take him, Rico!” Thumper barked.
Rico pushed Avery towards the hallway, but Avery had a few pounds on him. He stood flat-footed and didn’t move an inch. He pushed Rico back, and the smaller man nearly tripped over the couch. Rico looked like he hadn’t expected to have to make an effort. He was used to intimidating scared white men, but Avery’s adrenaline flowed too hard for him to be easy to scare.
Thumper laughed. “What’s wrong wit’choo, boy?”
“He pushed me!” shouted the annoyed Rico, who stomped towards Avery yet again.
“Yeah, he do that!” Thumper said. “We’s robbin’ him. He might push back. That happens, nigga. Shit’s fucked up.”
That momentary burst of success gave Avery a spring in his step. This time when Rico approached him, Avery used the self-defense techniques he learned in a karate class at the Y — he nearly knocked Rico over with a foot sweep, but instead put him in a bear hug. Rico’s lithe muscles squirmed beneath Avery’s touch as Avery kept a hold of him and dragged him to the front door.
He literally tossed Rico out into the front stoop, as Thumper laughed behind him like a baritone jackal. When Avery turned around, Thumper was screaming peals of laughter, clapping his hands on his meaty thighs.
“You got that, man, you got that!”
Avery blushed. He hadn’t meant to impress Thumper. Now that Rico was gone, Avery just needed to get rid of Thumper, or at least make it into the kitchen to call the police.
But then Rico walked right back in behind Avery. He once again tried to push Avery, who easily tossed him out the front door yet again.
This time, he was distracted long enough for Thumper — who still laughed as though he had never seen anything so funny — to grab Avery from behind. He wrapped both muscular arms around Avery and hissed. His basketball-thick arms were like iron bars, and Avery was unable to escape his hold.
“Get off me!”
“This is how you do it, nigga!” Thumper barked at Rico. Thumper’s powerful body pressed against Avery’s back.
Rico muttered as he followed Thumper, who dragged Avery into the bedroom. Rico shut the front door and wiped wet grass off his stained t-shirt. Avery wiggled in Thumper’s might grasp, ensconcing himself in Thumper’s broad chest muscles.
Despite or maybe because of all the fighting, Avery was horny. It came both from general excitement as well as from the strapping muscles of Thumper’s body, undulating behind his back. Avery could even feel a horsey cock beneath Thumper’s jeans, rubbing against the small of Avery’s back.
“Get some rope,” Thumper said as he tossed Avery on the bed on his belly.
Avery felt naked and vulnerable. He wore only a pair of sweatpants and a plain t-shirt. He tried to get up, but Thumper sat on the bed next to him, resting one heavy arm on Avery’s back.
“Get a rope!”
“I, uh, I ain’t got one.”
“I tol’ you bring a rope!”
“You said he wouldn’t be home! And I ain’t got a motherfuckin’ rope, nigga!”
Thumper sighed. “You stupid fuck. What we s’posed to tie him up with?”
“You said he wouldn’t be home.”
“What I said was bring a rope, nigga!” Thumper said. “You should stay prepared, man. Don’t come into some nigga’s house without rope to tie him up.” He patted Avery on the back of the head. “Sorry ‘bout callin’ you a nigga, whiteboy.”
“That’s okay. Just get out! Lemme go,” Avery said.
“Go find something we can tie him up with,” Thumper said with a sigh. He held Avery’s face in the pillow, not suffocating him, but keeping him from seeing what Rico was doing. After a few seconds, Thumper shouted in frustration. “Not in here, nigga! If there was something in here we could use to tie him up, I’d-a said ‘hand me that, nigga’. I said go find something!”
Rico muttered angrily to himself as he walked out the door the bedroom. He could be heard pawing through the hallway closet.
“Sorry, man, he young. He slow,” Thumper said. Leaving one hand on Avery’s neck and hand, his other rested on Avery’s back. That hand moved slowly lower, then he squeezed Avery’s asscheek. “He ain’t nevuh been locked up. He don’t know.” He leaned in and kissed the back of Avery’s neck. “You got a nice booty.” He let out a choked moan. “Boy, if you was my cellmate… I’d brew up something in yo’ ass and yo’ mouth, e’ry damn day.”
Avery shuddered at the thought. He was so aroused now his dick was already getting hard, pressing into the mattress beneath him.
“You into that, huh?”
“Hell yeah,” Avery said. “You can ram me. Just don’t rob me.”
Thumper laughed. “Those things ain’t mutually exclusive, man,” he said. “And you ain’t in position to be making demands.” He chuckled as he stood up. He unzipped the fly of his jeans and fished out a long dark cock. “There’s two options before you, but they both lead you to the same place.”
His head moved of its own will towards Thumper’s cock. Avery hesitated, inhaling that musty, prison-starved scent — he could tell that the underwear Thumper wore was that plain white kind, prison-issue boxers. He must be a recent releasee, or maybe he just never quite got over his release.
But before Avery could open his mouth to suck it down, Thumper took his head in hand and pulled it into his crotch. The silky sensation of limp cockmeat filled Avery’s mouth, and Avery inhaled deeply of the scent of his wiry pubic bush, which was all-black despite the streaks of gray in his beard and his cornrows. Thumper had an intense and potent flavor. He tasted of blunt ash and grimy city streets. He smelled of prison cells, men in cramped conditions and unwashed ballsweat.
In no time his cock began to firm up within Avery’s mouth. It grew hot and thick, and Avery let his tongue caress the underside of Thumper’s veiny shaft. He slurped up the sweat that clung to his shaft.
“Oh yeah…” Thumper murmured. “I only got outta prison yesterday, man. I needed this.”
Thumper kept all his clothes on. He didn’t even drop his pants, he just let his cock poke out of the fly of his jeans. As Avery licked, Thumper stooped more and more to give Avery better access to his entire dick. Soon enough, Thumper was leaning over the entire bed, humping Avery’s face like a dog.
His dick kept angling out of Avery’s mose and smearing spit over his face. It was at least a foot long and thick as Avery’s wrist, and it throbbed with a desperate, intense horniness. Thumper thrust with all his might even as he missed Avery’s mouth. Whenever he got a good rhythm of throating Avery down for a few seconds, he moaned and groaned and undulated his powerful chest muscles.
The smell of a lit cigarette filled the room. Avery was annoyed — he didn’t allow smoking in his home. He hated cigarettes, but he wasn’t about to complain, even if his mouth weren’t full. Lit cigarette cocked between his lips, Thumper climbed all the way onto the bed.
The position was awkward. No one would have ever chosen to get dome in this position, but Thumper didn’t seem to mind. Maybe he was used to overcrowded prisons. Avery’s body jammed against the wall of his room, laying on his side, while Thumper crawled onto the bed, stooping over so his cock could reach out of his sagging jeans and into Avery’s throat.
“Slurp it good, nigga,” Thumper said. He snuck one callused hand behind Avery’s head, holding it still while he worked his cock in and out. When Avery finally gagged on its thickness invading his throat, Thumper murmured his approval. “There ya go. That’s the sound of a job done right. Move yo’ tongue around mo’.”
Avery did as he was told. He had never tasted a cock this delicious before. Avery could still savor the drops of untainted sweat that clung to his shaft, rather than tasting nothing more than his own spit.
Then the overwhelming saltiness of precum hit Avery’s senses. He moaned around the fat cock in his throat, which made Thumper laugh. He lightly smacked Avery on the cheek, and his callused fingers squeezed his nose shut to help his throat open more.
“You fo’ real, man,” he said. “I like you. You wanna slurp on my balls?”
He didn’t need to ask Avery twice. Avery reached into the hairy dankness of Thumper’s crotch and withdrew a low-hanging sac from the fly of his jeans. He drooled as he pulled off Thumper’s cock and let both hairy balls fall into his mouth.
That enormous brown dick stood straight up from his face. Avery lazily stroked it with one hand, giggling at sight of Thumper’s meat twitching with every touch — Avery kept his hand off-rhythm, light, just barely stroking Thumper’s shaft as he gurgled on those sensitive balls. That was tortuously tantalizing for Thumper, whose hands fluttered as though he was unwilling to touch himself no matter how much his instincts demanded it.
“Whatchoo doin, nigga?!” Rico screamed when he came back into the bedroom. He dropped the soft cloth belt from a bathrobe, which is apparently what he found with which to tie Avery down. Rico sounded like he was about to start crying.
Thumper laughed. “What’s it look like, lor nigga?”
Rico hesitated. He stood there in the doorway. Avery couldn’t see his face because Thumper’s balls overflowed from his mouth, and all that was in front of his eyes was that towering shaft of chocolate brown cock. With every barrel laugh of Thumper’s heavy body, Avery felt the balls on his tongue quiver. He suckled as loudly as he could, and the moist sound of gargling balls filled the room.
Rico audibly gagged. He came closer, approaching gingerly, as though it was a bomb he needed to find a way to defuse.
“You ramrodding’ that man?” Rico asked.
Thumper laughed again, and his balls twitched in Avery’s mouth. “Nah. He slurpin’ on my balls, nigga. Does it look like my dick is in his ass?”
“Ewwww…! He’s slurpin’ on ya balls, nigga!”
“I know, I just said that-
“Why’s he slurpin’ on ya balls? Ain’t that gross?”
“He likes it.”
There was a long silence. Avery could hear Rico come even closer, and kneel as he looked right at the balls disappearing down Avery’s throat.
“He likes the taste of balls?” He peered closer but stepped away as though worried about being splashed. He wrinkled his nose.
Thumper grabbed Rico’s head. Rico squealed and tried to pull away, but Thumper held him close. He dragged his head right to Avery’s ball-slurping face. For a moment it looked like Thumper was going to make Rico swallow his cock while Avery kept working on his balls.
But he didn’t let Rico go. He just held his face there for a long time, so close the spit from Avery’s ball-slurping splattered on Rico’s nose. Rico gagged and bucked, and Thumper let him go.
This time, Thumper and Avery both laughed together, though the sound of Avery’s laughter was a moistly muffled roar because his mouth was full. Rico wiped his face off and roared.
“Ewww! Ew, nigga! I tasted that!”
“Don’t nevuh get locked up, nigga,” Thumper said. He pulled his moist scrotum out of Avery’s mouth, planted it right on Avery’s nostrils and laughed at Rico’s shocked reaction. Avery snaked his tongue out to tease the underside of Thumper’s ballsac.
“I won’t!”
“You gunna embarrass me if you do.” Thumper pointed the tip of his dick into Avery’s mouth, but just jabbed it in once before getting up. He kneeled on the bed, straddling Avery’s body. He grabbed Rico’s dick and put it on his dick, but Rico let go without acknowledging that. Thumper said, “You know how things go in there, nigga.”
“Yeah!” Rico sounded like he was about to cry. “I know how lockup works, brah. If I was in there, I might lay some pipe in a nigga. But I ain’t. I-“
“You don’t want that to be yo’ first time, Rico,” Thumper said. His fingers gripped Avery’s face, rubbing his cheeks and stretching his mouth open. He leaned over until he was so close he nearly kissed Avery right on the lips. Rico watched with baited breath, but then all Thumper did was purse his lips and spit. A wad of saliva landed right in Avery’s mouth, and Thumper forced his lips shut. Thumper licked Avery’s spasming face from his chin to his forehead. “You mine, bitch.” He chuckled to himself. “It ain’t the same if you want it. I kinda miss makin’ prison bitches squirm,” he said, ruefully. “You wanna mouth off this nigga too?”
“God yes!” Avery shouted.
Rico didn’t respond and maybe didn’t understand what Thumper said. He wavered, and looked away when Thumper smiled at him. Without taking his body off the bed, Thumper wrapped one arm around Rico’s shoulder. Rico shuddered.
“C’mon, nigga. You should do this. You ain’t gotta tell no one,” Thumper said. “You gonna look like an idiot if yo’ first time wit’ a man happens behind bars. Don’t young niggas do shit on the downlow these days?”
“No!”
Thumper rolled his eyes. “You don’t, you mean. I know some young niggas do.”
“I got females, Thumper!” Rico said, his voice plaintive and desperate. He closed his eyes while Thumper guided him close to the bed. Rico began undoing his belt, but Thumper stopped him.
“Nah. Real thugs don’t take they clothes off, not to ram it up some whiteboy,” Thumper said. “You might have to run wit’ a quickness.”
Rico’s breathing was slow and swift. He was very nervous, and his hands trembled as he unzipped his fly. He took a deep breath and let his cock flop out. It was plenty long but not as remarkable as Thumper’s, and it wasn’t as thick. Avery still looked at it hungrily.
“Well? Come on, put it in his mouth,” Thumper said. He chuckled. “Gonna break you in tonight, Rico, shit…”
Rico winced. He closed his eyes again, and bit his lip. His dick waggled in front of Avery’s face. Thumper held it in one hand and wagged it like a dog’s tail. Rico sucked in his breath and looked away.
“Rico, you fucking pussy, just do it, if you gonna do it. If you scairt of this whiteboy and wanna run out the door, do that,” Thumper said. “Is you a thug or ain’t you? Thugs ain’t goddamn squeamish ‘bout who swallow they nut. Head is head.”
Rico nodded. He didn’t seem any more relaxed, and with his eyes still closed, he could do little more than flop his cock in the general direction of Avery’s mouth. Avery was eager to taste it. He lifted his head the best he could with Thumper still pinning him down. He got the tip of Rico’s dick in his mouth, but as soon as he touched it with his tongue, Rico giggled like a teenager and backed away.
“Rico!” Thumper screamed. “Don’t be a goddamn pussy. You almost twenty years old, actin’ like a fuckin’ pansy.”
With a startle, Rico stepped forward again. He opened his eyes just long enough to see that Thumper’s cock was still rock-hard, resting against Avery’s face. Thumper roared in frustration and grabbed Rico’s cock with one hand. He aimed it for Avery’s mouth.
“Shit, Thumper! You touchin’ my dick again!” Rico’s eyes opened wide, looking at his shaft in Thumper’s hand. He stood on his toes and sucked in his breath, but he didn’t back away from Thumper.
“Don’t be squeamish,” Thumper said with a snarl.
Avery was shocked that Thumper would touch another man’s dick. It looked like Rico was even more surprised. He looked at it like a bad car accident as Thumper led his dick to Avery’s mouth. Rico stepped forward stiffly, wishing he hadn’t agreed to rob houses with Thumper — he had known something like this would happen — not this exactly, but something unpleasant, Thumper was like that — Rico considered leaving even now. He could leave. Thumper would tease him about it and probably tell everyone Rico left because he couldn’t get hard.
Rico didn’t want to seem squeamish, and a part of him did want a consequence-free orgasm. So he didn’t leave. He just tried to pretend it wasn’t Thumper’s middle-aged, callused fingers pawing over his meat, stroking the shaft and forcing it like a dead snake into Avery’s waiting mouth.
This time Avery immediately licked the tip, which perked up right away. Rico frowned and sucked in his breath, still watching as Thumper stroked him and Avery slurped on him.
Again, Thumper seemed uncaring of how much he touched Rico’s cock, as he pointed his own cock towards Avery’s mouth as well. Avery focused on getting Rico hard while Thumper’s dick poked at his lips. Rico’s lithe frame was so tense he was like a fully clothed statue, his knees trembling as he got hard in Avery’s mouth. Avery got one hand on both dicks and slurped on them both at the same time. Thumper’s was still rock-hard, Rico’s stayed soft as pudding.
“See, nigga? It ain’t bad. You gangbang bitches?”
“Yeah!” Rico scrunched his eyes half-shut, and he leaned back like he wanted to be as far from his dick as possible. He might have been holding his breath, Avery couldn’t tell.
“You ever joust in a bitch’s mouth?”
Rico mumbled over some words that Avery couldn’t quite catch. He sucked in his breath and looked away, then back at his dick touching Thumper’s dick and being battered by Avery’s tongue, then looked away again, then back. With a jolly grin, Thumper wrapped one arm around Rico and brought his head in. He kissed Rico on the forehead and laughed again as Rico pulled away from him.
“Lay off me, nigga! Why we gotta joust and shit?” Rico said.
“I just like fuckin’ wit’ you, nigga,” Thumper said. “But we ain’t gotta joust if you want. I’ll do him up the ass.” Then he backed away. He rolled Avery over onto his back, so Rico had to mount his body just like Thumper had been, in order to aim his dick into Avery’s mouth. Meanwhile, Thumper, in one smooth motion, lifted up Avery’s legs and pulled his sweatpants down.
“Oh shit, you isgonna ram that man!”
“Hell yeah, I ain’t some squeamish nigga who just wanna get his dick wet,” Thumper said. “I been locked up, nigga. I ain’t fuck for a long time.”
“Brah, I ain’t wanna hear that shit. That’s disgustin’-“
“Nigga! Shut yo’ goddamn mouth. If you keep complainin’, I’ll have you stick ‘im too,” he said.
Rico wasn’t really paying attention to his dick. He was much smaller than Thumper, so in order to mount Avery’s chest, he had to stretch his hips and thighs apart. It was distinctly uncomfortably for him, especially in those loose-fitting jeans he still wore. He kept his hips perfectly still as Avery slurped on his smooth brown shaft through the fly. Rico didn’t notice his dick was getting hard in Avery’s mouth.
“Keep yo’ head lookin’ that way if you don’t wanna see it,” Thumper said gruffly as he wedged the tip of his dick between Avery’s cheeks. He shoved a small pillow under there to lift up Avery’s ass, then rammed his dick in.
It was just the first few inches at first, but the pain was intense. Avery moaned around the cock in his throat, as pleasure followed the pain in pulsating throughout his body. That hot cock pushed deeper and deeper inside.
“Brah, can’t you give a warning? He almost bit down on my dick-“
“You ain’t figger out what was about to happen?” Thumper asked. He lifted his shirt up so it wouldn’t get in the way, then lifted it over his head, without taking it off. His high yellow chest was bare and gleaming with sweat. Thumper ground his dick in even deeper and chuckled at Avery’s squirming. “This honky know how to take it. How’s that dome, nigga?”
Rico didn’t answer. He closed his eyes again. His dick was hard, but it seemed that he was still too nervous and distracted to notice. His lithe body bucked instinctively.
“You best get tougher, nigga, or less handsome,” Thumper said. “Prison go’n eat you alive.”
“I ain’t goan to prison! And can you not talk? Yo’ voice is right in my ear. I can’t nut wit’ yo’ voice all up in my shit,” Rico said.
Thumper was leaning forward, so his breath condensed on Rico’s neck. “When you locked up, there ain’t always bitches around. Most of the time, you in a cell wit’ some dudes. Even if you got a bitch, he prolly ain’t around when you want him.”
“I ain’t tryin’-a get locked up, brah.”
“No one tries to get locked up, sometimes it just happens,” Thumper said. “And you gotta feel good however you can.”
Rico shuddered as Thumper’s hands caressed his back. Thumper lifted up his shirt to reveal a broad, smooth brown back. His fingers danced up and down Rico’s spine.
Then his hands roamed lower and lower, until they went past the waist of Rico’s jeans. He grabbed Rico’s plump asscheeks.
“You ever took it up the ass before?”
“No!”
“You got a hell of an ass, nigga,” Thumper said gruffly. He kissed Rico’s bare shoulder then rammed one finger up his asshole.
Rico was so nervous that his erection flagged inside Avery’s mouth. Avery didn’t mind, as this was arousing enough that he didn’t want it to end. Anything that made it go on longer was fine by him.
“How’s that feel, nigga?”
Rico closed his eyes, not willing to answer. He leaned forward and grimaced in pain as his hips began instinctually flexing forward and back, daggering his dick deep into Avery’s throat as he went forward.
Rico couldn’t see what Thumper was doing, so he had no idea that Thumper caressed Avery’s flat stomach. Then he grabbed Avery’s cock and gave it a stroke. He made a quiet shushing sound, which Avery gathered was aimed at him — Thumper didn’t want Rico to know he was giving a reacharound (of sorts — it wasn’t a real reacharound, since Avery was on his back; it was a reach-front).
With the taste of one cock in his mouth and another stimulating his prostate, Avery had no ability to delay his orgasm. He was about to bust a nut without anyone even touching his cock, and now that Thumper was stroking it, he couldn’t resist. Avery cried out but the sound was muffled by Rico’s cock.
Cum spurted from his cock, coating Thumper’s fingers. Thumper didn’t slow down at all. He kept stroking, and moaned as Avery’s body contorted around the cock in his ass.
Rico was so focused on the pleasure coming from both ends that he didn’t notice Avery orgasm. He breathed a sigh of relief as Thumper removed one finger from his ass then gasped when Thumper replaced it with one from the other hand, the hand he had just stroked Avery off with. Rico had no idea that the pinkie finger in his ass was coated in Avery’s cum.
“Ah, gawd, here it comes, brah,” Rico said, his voice soft and weak now that he was letting Thumper finger him. His voice even broke as the first few drops of cum coated Avery’s tongue.
“Nah, niggas paint they bitches’ face,” Thumper said. He grabbed Rico’s cock as it shot its load, pulled it out of Avery’s mouth and aimed it to spray all over his face. Rico’s entire tight body spasmed at Thumper’s touch, and his cock pulsated beneath Thumper’s fingers, his asshole squeezing the finger of Thumper’s other hand..
As the orgasm wrapped around Rico’s muscles, he leaned forward, gasping. Rico yelped and squirmed but didn’t try to crawl away, he just submitted to the humiliation of enjoying his cum spray into Avery’s mouth.
Thumper grunted. He stayed still for just a moment. He kissed Rico’s neck, making Rico shudder at the touch of Thumper’s lips. Avery stroked Rico’s sensitive cockshaft as he felt Thumper’s cumload spray within him.
It was hot and creamy, and Avery and Thumper moaned together, as though harmonizing with each other. Thumper’s guttural, tremulous tone filled the room, and Rico shuddered in disgust at the sound. Avery, feeling bold, pushed his hands up underneath Rico’s shirt. He gripped his pecs — just as he had suspected, Rico was small, but powerfully-muscled. Each pectoral muscle was like an overpumped basketball, tense with post-orgasmic glow and awkward tension, his older thug friend still massaging his back and fingering his ass.
Then he was done. Thumper didn’t move. He kept his limp cock right in Avery’s ass, while both cum-covered hands caressed Rico’s body. It was obvious he was playing a prank on Rico, seeing how much touching he would accept before complaining. Rico held his breath and closed his eyes, trying to pretend there weren’t men feeling him up from both sides.
“Okay, that’s enough, you two,” Rico finally said. He nearly fell off the bed in his haste to get away, and he sighed when Thumper leggo his ass. He shuddered as he pulled his shirt back down and tucked his cock away in his pants. “I know you just messin’ wit’ me.”
Thumper dismounted Avery’s ass, the intense pressure of being penetrated finally leaving Avery’s mind. Thumper stood next to the bed, then much to Avery’s surprise, he dropped his pants all the way to his ankles. A thick, hairy pair of asscheeks waited right above Avery’s face.
Thumper pulled those cheeks apart to reveal a twinkling brown asshole. He laughed at Rico’s shudder of disgust, and Thumper planted his ass right on Avery’s face.
“Give it a kiss, man,” Thumper said.
Avery did as he was told. Thumper waited for the kiss on his ass, then shuddered and stood up. He pulled his pants back up.
“Okay, we ain’t takin’ this man’s shit,” Thumper said.
“What?! After all that, nigga?”
Thumper nodded. “We already rammed him. That’s enough. Ain’t really got shit anyway.”
“Come back anytime,” Avery said. He blushed. He should follow them out to the living room, to make sure they didn’t actually take anything. But he was too weak from the dick he just took to stand or walk, so he just watched them both march out the door.
From the living room, he heard Rico scoff. “We ain’t comin’ back-“
“Hell yeah we is,” Thumper said. “You find me a female tomorrow night, Rico. If you can’t get one to take it in the ass, I’ll either ram you or this honky. Your choice.”
“Man, Thumper… I mean, him, obviously-“
“Yo’ choice. I like touchin’ yo’ ass while I ram. Might keep you wit’ me e’ry time from now on,” Thumper said. He paused and yelled back, “Later, whiteboy. Get some porno mags we can look at next time.” The door slammed shut, then Thumper opened it. “Black chicks!”
“Okay,” Avery said, his voice too weak for anyone outside the bedroom to hear. He heard Thumper chuckling as he slammed the front door again, and Avery breathed a sigh of relief.
He was exhilarated. He settled down in his sheets, unwilling to move because he could still smell that masculine scent. He didn’t want it to ever go away.
There was a tap on his window. It was Rico’s handsome cornrowed face, frowning at him. “Hey, man? Thanks for that. I’ll come back alone sometime. I don’t wanna mess around with that ol’ nigga. But I want another nut from you. Don’t tell no one, okay?”
“Okay,” Avery said breathlessly.
Rico paused and whisper-yelled away from the window. “Alright, Thumper, damn! I’m comin’! I just dropped my lighter.” Then he muttered into the window before scurrying away. “Keep yo’ door unlocked and yo’ lips unchapped, man. I be back.”

The Politician

When Avery lobbies a presidential candidate on some pet issues, he didn’t realize what he was in for! The studly Governor Harold Tamperton is ready to give Avery the reacharound of a lifetime in exchange for political support, an exchange that’s worth every penny to Avery!

Read it soon as an ebook!

Or read the whole thing here!

Avery sighed. Was Mr. Tamperton going to stand him up? He would have thought not — Avery was representing an important lobby group, and Mr. Tamperton’s campaign was who set this up. They reached out to Avery, not the other way around. Now Mr. Tamperton was an hour late. Avery had come to assume politicians would always be late — that was in their DNA. A part of him had believed Charlie Tamperton’s claim that he would be different. A part of him hoped Tamperton would be different.
But mostly, Avery suspected that Charlie Tamperton would not be different at all.
The hotel lobby was fashionably minimalist, with carpet softer than most mattresses and of the most exquisitely vibrant shade of white Avery had ever seen, it was sort of an electric white, like the white equivalent of neon pink, and it was spotless. Shockingly spotless, like fresh off the factory, not a single smudge or mote of dullness. That and an odd statue were the only things of note in the vault-like minimalist “splendor” of the Granger Ben Hotel.
Minimalist doesn’t mean spending less on decor, it means spending more on less decor. The elite will always spend to make sure the peons know they can. In the olden days, they did so by hiring a hundred artisans to work for a lifetime decorating every inch of a cathedral. Now they hire the equivalent in man-hours to create, install and clean a fantastically expensive alabaster carpet that gets steam-cleaned every ten minutes and one statue that was hard to identify but might have been a goat in a bathtub and which may have had a feminist bent. Avery couldn’t quite put his finger on what was feminist about it. It had a plaque, but he was not going to read a goddamn plaque about a feminist, like in a museum, but anyway, both the goaty shape and the bathtubby shape had a feminist air about them. So instead of hiring stonecarvers and woodworkers to build a cathedral for seventy years, they pay a couple million up front for some absurdly dumb feminist goat in a feminist bathtub and a million or two in wages over many years to various cleaners, installers, repairers, etc. They spend just as much, but they call it minimalist.
Avery would rather employ stonecarvers and woodworkers than feminists and cleaning crews. Plus, there’d be more to look at when he sat here twiddling his thumbs like a fucking idiot, waiting an hour and a half for that billionaire shitheel Charlie Tamperton. Avery was definitely deleting his dumbass apps. Except the one with the ostrich that finds coupons.
“There you are, Mr. Flowers,” said a suited man who appeared next to Avery, startling him. How he snuck up to Avery in a minimalist hotel lobby, with nothing to hide behind except six uncomfortable chairs, ten dead-eyed staff and a goat-in-a-bathtub’s worth of feminism, Avery will never figure out. Somehow the Asian man with the dead eyes and swampy cologne managed to surprise him. He gave Avery a polite nod. “I’m Delaney Chu, Mr. Tamperton’s campaign manager. He’s ready to see you now.”
Avery nodded and shook his hand, wondering where Tamperton had come from — Avery was sitting in the front lobby of the hotel, and he hadn’t seen Tamperton enter. He must have slipped in through a service entrance, presumably to avoid the mob of journalists outside. The Democratic primary was heating up, and Tamperton was no doubt being followed by both the press and his opponents’s trackers.
“Mr. Tamperton is very excited for this opportunity,” Delaney said. “He’s wanted to reach out to the legitimate-massage community for a long time. Honestly it’s my fault he hasn’t, blame me for that. He’s been telling me for months that we’ve got to make some allies there. And he’s totally right.”
“I see,” Avery said. He didn’t really believe Delaney — not that he thought Delaney was lying, exactly, but it made sense for Mr. Tamperton to focus on consolidating the main wings of the Democratic Party. He had risen to prominence with a series of sharply worded statements in accordance with Avery’s views, including a harsh eye aimed at the prostitution industry, especially the semi-legal massage parlors that make it hard for legitimate companies to operate. Avery’s business couldn’t compete in advertising with literally all of the city’s pimps and hookers, but many city governments across the country had decided it was better to the semi-tolerate semi-legal semi-businesses of pimps and madams, and they had no interest in supporting the operations of legitimate massage companies. Avery had formed and then found himself in charge of a lobby group devoted to legitimate-massage businesses, and as the presidential race heated up, Avery found his little pressure group rising to the top of the Democratic Party. That wasn’t because it was a huge pressure group, precisely the opposite. All the huge pressure groups had committed to a candidate months or years ago. Avery’s was one of the few groups that hadn’t yet committed to a candidate.
The immigrant-rights community nationwide had rallied around Avery and rocketed him to the top of the Democratic Party’s primary polling in the early months. That was not his intent — a lot of immigrants were masseurs, that was why. So the conventional wisdom was that candidates could nail down Avery’s endorsement and garner votes from the anti-prostitution folks and the immigrants.
Now that the first primaries and caucuses loomed closer, some of the more minor candidates were getting traction. Mr. Tamperton’s endless barrage of media-grabbing statements dominated the news, while Vermont Governor Paul Thandrasepkatar got some key endorsements, especially from a handful of celebs. Tamperton had come out on the wrong side of the police brutality debate, which made it hard for the ultra-leftists to support him. Governor Thandrasepkatar had come out in support of some popular things, which Mr. Tamperton couldn’t support without being seen as a flip-flopper. So despite Tamperton’s initial success, Governor Thandrasepkatar was vacuuming up support.
Avery represented one of the few immigrant civil rights organizations that hadn’t yet endorsed Thandrasepkatar, and he knew Tamperton was going to be desperate for a way back in to the good graces of the immigrant community. He wondered what Tamperton would say today to dominate the news cycle tomorrow, and he hoped it wasn’t at his expense.
Of course none of that had anything to do with legitimate massage. But more than two-thirds of the dues-paying businesses in Avery’s lobby group were owned by immigrants, and there were a lot more immigrants than legitimate massuers in this country.
Avery was so lost in thought he didn’t notice that Delaney was taking him downstairs, to the basement. He wasn’t going to a hotel room at all.
In the basement of the hotel — the basement had no decoration either, just more spotless white in the form of painted walls, which again had no smuges or fingerprints or faded spots —Delaney brought Avery past the pool. They stopped in front of a door marked SAUNA. He smiled and held the door open, motioning for Avery to squeeze in past the pair of burly bodyguards who stood sentry.
“Mr. Tamperton is getting a steam,” Delaney said. “But he’ll see you now. Feel free to take off your clothes.”
There was a little changing area in the front of the sauna. Avery entered and nervously took off his clothes. He had always loved saunas — that was his favorite part of his recent trip to Finland. It was only as Avery wrapped a towel around his waist and walked into the sauna that he realized he had posted about the trip, and his effusive love for saunas, on Facebook.
That was why Tamperton arranged for a meeting here. He looked through Avery’s Facebook timeline until he found out what he liked: saunas. It felt like pandering, it was patronizing. It was hard to take notes in the steamy sauna too, which made Avery wonder if Tamperton’s plan was to prevent Avery from keeping a record of what he said.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Flowers,” Mr. Tamperton said. His face was shrouded by steam. “Please, call me Tamperton. Don’t you love this sauna? It’s the greatest, I’m a yuge fan of saunas. The steam is wonderful for the skin.”
“Yeah, I’m sure,” Avery said. “Well… Tamperton, I’m sure you realize why I agreed to meet with you. The organization I represent-“
“Wait, wait, Avery, let’s not jump right into business,” Mr. Tamperton said. “Let’s just chat a bit. I’d like to get to know you.”
Avery shrugged as he sat down. The sauna was so misty and dim that he hadn’t seen Tamperton until he got to the bench he sat on. That’s when he clocked that Tamperton was stark naked, not even wearing a towel around his waist.
His body was more powerful than it seemed when he wore a suit on television, Avery thought. Tamperton had a barrel chest, not at all saggy from age, and though the hair on his head was ruddy and balding, the hair on his chest was fresh, dark and just thick enough to grab nd hold onto. He was stronger than Avery had thought he would be, and perhaps most surprisingly, he had a massive cock resting between his sweaty thighs.
This was definitely not how Avery had expected this interview to progress. He wondered how he could bring this up at the next meeting without looking like a Tamperton fanboy excited to see his crush’s cock. That wasn’t at all how Avery felt He had never thought of Tamperton as having an excellent physique until just now, when his naked, sweat-dappled body was right in front of Avery’s eyes.
And now Avery found his eyes drawn to that magnificant cock.
“How are you enjoying the campaign?” Avery asked, nervous at sitting next to someone so intensely masculine, not to mention a powerful billionaire. The humid sauna-sweat glistened on his broad chest and shoulders, and when he touched his own chin, he left a trail of moisture that ran down his the curves of his pecs in rivulets.
“I’m enjoying it plenty, I love this kind of scrappy repartée, the exchange of ideas, the Sturm und Drang of it all,” he said. “The one problem is that I never see my wife.”
“That’s tough. Being president is even tougher though,” Avery said. A part of him had always been worried that Tamperton wasn’t serious — being president wasn’t like being CEO of a professional rugby team (that was one of Tamperton’s high-profile business ventures). He was going to have to be on duty all the time.
“Sure, sure, I can’t wait. I’ll enjoy that, honestly. My wife will be there in the White House with me. She can’t travel on the campaign trail with me, but she would gladly move into the White House. She’s already picking out curtains,” he said. Then he cleared his throat nervously. “Look… I’m gonna have trouble concentrating on this interview if we don’t do something about…” He gestured towards his crotch. “Without my wife at my side at nights, I need another way to let off a little steam.” He laughed as he gestured to the steam that filled the sauna.
“I’m sorry, Tamperton?”
“Do you want to jerk me off?”
“… I’m sorry, Tamperton?”
“Of course you can’t put it in your article. I’ll deny it. Not even my bodyguards out there know what we’re doing in here,” he said. He shrugged. “You don’t have to. I just thought you were the kind of man who knows your way around a cock.”
“Really?”
He nodded. “Don’t pretend you haven’t been checking me out.”
Avery nodded and blushed.
Before he could do anything else, Tamperton leaned in and kissed him. Avery was so shocked he just sat there like a dead fish at first, then shoved his tongue in Tamperton’s mouth. They collapsed onto the sauna bench, with Tamperton on top of Avery, his burly body weighing him down and his heavy cock pressing into Avery’s thigh.
“Oh… Mr. Tamperton-“
“Call me Tamperton.”
“Tamperton…!”
Tamperton kissed a trail down Avery’s neck and chest. He suckled on each nipple until it was hard, and he smiled at Avery. “You see, I do respect immigrants. I love the immigrants. Not to mention massage. Massage has helped so many of my rugby players with physical ailments.” His breath condensed on Avery’s nape. “I’ll do whatever I can to help the industry.”
“I see…”
His back arched as pleasure shot through him. Tamperton gave his dick a few strokes. It pulsated between Tamperton’s thick fingers, as Avery dragged his own fingers through Tamperton’s thinning reddish hair. The body heat emanating off Tamperton merged with the humid warmth of the sauna, and Avery found his hands moving over the well-worked muscle of Charlie Tamperton’s chest and back.
Then Tamperton lowered his head, as he kissed Avery again on the lips, then the chin, the neck, and a moan of passion came out of both men. Avery sucked in his breath.
This was not how he thought this little foray into lobbying would pan out.
His hands fluttering and running all up and down Tamperton’s well-muscled back, Avery leaned back, thinking Tamperton would soon stop kissing. But no, his kisses moved lower and lower.
Then, before Avery knew it, Tamperton’s mouth encircled Avery’s dick. Avery was astonished to feel his lips on Avery’s cock, but he was too aroused to even process what was happening. He continued lowering his head, still holding his breath as his heart raced, until Avery was laying on the sauna bench on his back. He reached for Tamperton’s crotch, and he hefted that fat erection in one, then both, hands.
With Tamperton atop him, Avery and he arranged their bodies to sixty-nine, with Tamperton on top, his plump, piggish prick aimed right for Avery’s mouth. He was so huge and heavy that Avery could barely wrap his arms around Tamperton’s body.
Avery opened up, feeling that familiar sensation of hot meat invading his throat. His fingers clenched Tamperton’s thick back and ass, as precum invaded his mouth. Avery sucked vigorously, deep-throating and swallowing every inch of his meat. They writhed together, in unison, and for a little while, Avery forgot that Tamperton was part of the political and business elite.
Tamperton’s muscles tightened and flexed above Avery. Tamperton was in much better shape than he had seemed, and Avery could feel the power bristling just below the surface of his body. He had the muscle of the rugby players he employed, Avery thought, wondering if he worked out with his athletes. He was a tech guy, originally and mainly, Tamperton built his business off apps. But he was never a slim computer geek, and his patronage of the American Rugby League was well-known.
The rugby players probably sauna together, Avery realized as he slurped on the savory cock invading his throat. Tamperton might sauna with them.
He loved the man’s body hair too, just thick enough to be unkempt and furry, but not so thick as to be dirty or offputting. He smelled clean and strong, even his dick and despite the sauna-induced sweat that covered his body. His balls were thick and heavy, without the old man-droopiness that Avery had rather assumed he would have.
Precum flooded Avery’s mouth. He enjoyed the sour and salty flavor of precum, not to mention the creamy texture, and he savored it in his mouth now as well. He let it coat his tongue, which ran up and down Tamperton’s veiny shaft. Avery was leaking precum too, and Tamperton swallowed it like he was well-practiced. Avery wondered how often Tamperton had done this before.
He did not do it like a man exploring something new. He did it like this was old hat.
“Wait,” Tamperton said, pulling out just as Avery neared his orgasm. His hefty body hovered above Avery, who gasped in desperate need for more. His cocktip dangled tantalizingly near, just centimeters above Avery’s head. Tamperton smiled. “I’m gonna ram you now, okay? In the ass. I need a tight booty, and I can tell you are gonna be taut as a drum.” He caressed Avery’s smooth belly and added, “I’m gonna tap your ass good, Avery. You won’t be walking straight for a week. You like it like that?”
Avery nodded. “Hell yeah.”
“Do I have your endorsement?”
“I…” Avery gulped. “I need your support on-“
“Of course, of course. The proposed legislation, right? The Massage Rescue Plan? I can absolutely support that, and I promise, if elected president, I will do everything possible to ensure it gets through Congress,” he said. He stood, letting his erection bob around afront Avery’s face. Avery chased it with his tongue until he sensed Tamperton’s bemused gaze.
Then Avery serioused up. Despite his own erection and his strong desire to handle Tamperton’s, Avery only shrugged. “Well then, I guess we can support you — it’s not entirely up to me, you know?”
“I understand. Just tell them what I said — what I said about the Massage Rescue Plan — and that you believe me,” Tamperton said. He teased his knobtip on Avery’s lips. “You do believe me, don’t you?”
“Fuck yes!” Avery exclaimed. He felt bad about selling out his endorsement so easily, but he reasoned that it wasn’t really up to him anyway. He’d tell his committee the political promises Tamperton made, and if that was enough, they’d take their endorsement public. Supporting that in private was the most Avery could do. He wasn’t sure Tamperton understood that, but Avery was not in a position to explain the nuances of his lobby group’s mechanisms.
In one smooth motion, Charlie Tamperton stood, holding Avery in his powerful arms. He flipped Avery over, then bent him over the bench and spread his asscheeks. Avery’s knees went weak even before penetration began. He couldn’t believe this was happening to him, and he wondered if anyone would believe him if he told. Probably not, he decided as Tamperton’s broadly muscled chest rippled behind him, rubbing on Avery’s smooth back.
Tamperton must have had a bottle of lube hidden somewhere nearby, because Avery felt that slippery coldness, which was a pleasant sensation contrasting with the humid warmth of the sauna. The lube slid into his ass and spread to every corner, making him feel all slippery inside. Already Avery felt Tamperton’s hot cock throbbing against the small of his back, and Avery had to hold back a chest-rattling howl of desire.
“Here it comes, Avery, be ready for it,” Tamperton said, using his toned arms to hold Avery in place. The fact that he said Avery’s name turned him on — it felt good to know he was on a first-name basis with someone like this. People often treated him as though he should have personal connections in the government and business elite because of his position in this lobby group, but he didn’t, until now. Tamperton was the only major politician he’d ever met.
“I’m ready…”
A burst of pleasure erupted in his ass as Tamperton’s thick meat pushed inside. Avery gasped and writhed in his arms, struggling to take in its thickness. He reached behind himself with one hand to guide it in, so he could only support himself with the other hand.
Tamperton wrapped both arms around Avery’s body and held him tight, lifting him up so he didn’t have to support himself on his hands at all. Avery’s feet were barely on the floor at all. He ground his ass into Tamperton’s crotch, while feeling his hairy chest grind against Avery’s back.
“Oh god… I secretly love your budget proposal,” Avery blurted out. He hadn’t meant to say that, hadn’t even really thought it firmly to himself. But he felt so good that his internal filter disappeared, and so he moaned on a few more words about tax rates and progressivity before losing track of his thoughts.
“Really? I’m glad you like it, Avery…” His voice was low and guttural, aimed directly in Avery’s ears. Again, when he said Avery’s name, it sent a shiver of sexual energy up Avery’s spine, which caused him a spasm of pain and pleasure as it made his ass twinkle. Avery wondered if Tamperton knew how arousing it was to hear him call out Avery’s name.
One of Tamperton’s hands crept around to Avery’s dick and began stroking it. Avery was already so close to orgasm that his whole body twitched and pulsated as though his touch was painful. Avery moaned so loud he wondered if the bodyguards outside could hear, but if they did, they didn’t say anything or even poke their head in.
Despite Avery’s animated response to his touch, Tamperton didn’t slow down. He forced his dick in and out, hard enough that Avery felt overwhelming agony that was drowned out by the bliss emanating from his ass. He moaned around the thick arm that caressed his neck and face.
He finally shot his load just as Tamperton reached his own climax. Hot cum sprayed from his dick and covered the bench beneath him. Avery moaned and squirmed beneath Tamperton’s grasp. His back rippled as his muscles all tightened at once, and Tamperton held him tight. It felt like they were melting together, becoming one person, and Avery even had a momentary fantasy of him moving into the White House with Tamperton.
Wad after wad of creamy seed burst forth within Avery’s spasming body. It coated his insides and dripped down his legs as Avery’s spine undulated. Pleasure coursed through his veins. He gasped and fell limp, supported only by Tamperton’s strong arms.
Then it was over. Avery had no idea how long it had lasted. His orgasm felt like it might have gone on for hours, though he knew that was impossible — Tamperton’s retinue would have come in to get him by now. He must not have been as loud as it felt like he was too. Bodyguards would definitely have come in if they heard Avery scream the way it sounded in Avery’s own ears.
Tamperton pulled out, sending a shiver of relief up Avery’s back. His jizz continued seeping through his body and dripping down his thighs. Tamperton whistled his appreciation. “That was nice, Avery,” he said. “Reminds me why I’m not loyal to women. They don’t do it like that, and if they did, they’d still want to cuddle and talk about feelings afterwards. You don’t want to do that, do you, Avery?”
“No,” Avery said. The last thing he wanted to do now was talk about feelings. Cuddling did sound appealing, but once the orgasmic afterglow wore off in a few minutes, he’d be tired of it and their bodies would be hot and sticky.
“Good,” Tamperton said. He held Avery close in his powerful arms, where Avery felt safe and protected. He could see why people supported Tamperton politically — even if he was obviously full of hot air, he was confident and swaggerous, and it made Avery feel less vulnerable to be there scooped up in his arms.
“That was amazing, Mr. Tamperton… Tamperton, I mean,” Avery said. “Are you really a big supporter of the legitimate-massage industry?”
“I really am. It’s vital to the athletes who work for me, and I have always insisted that my companies offer massage as part of the healthcare and benefits package,” he said with a deep breath. “I’m so glad to have your support. I look forward to your organization campaigning with me.”
“that’s really up to the board,” Avery said. He blushed as he straightened out his sore legs — he thought Tamperton was right about him not being able to walk straight for a little while, at least not without concentrating intensely. “But I’ll recommend we come out to support you.”
“Thank you, and Avery?”
“Yes,” Avery said as Tamperton stood up and headed towards the door.
“When I win, I want you to visit me in the White House. You can arrange that, right?”
“That won’t be a problem,” Avery said.
“Good. We can have a wau-wau and… do other things, things that are definitely going to be off the record,” Tamperton said with a knowing grin. “The Lincoln Bedroom will never be the same.”

The Jock

Avery is a masseur who finds himself servicing a studly if idiotic football jock! His name is Jimmy, he knows literally nothing and he’s desperate for someone to prove it’s possible to swallow every inch of his alpha male meat…

Can Avery satisfy Jimmy’s oral needs?

Read it now as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Avery Flowers rubbed lotion into his feet. The bottom of his feet sometimes got dry and cracked. It was awkward to do it himself because he couldn’t see where it was a problem, and he always ended up with a slippery foot afterwards. On the linoleum-tiled massage room floor at the Thackenswitch Center for Massage, that was problematic.
So when Jimmy Spokes strode in, Avery was surprised — he nearly toppled over and had to grab the counter to support himself. He wasn’t expecting anyone right now, and he lost his balance.
Plus, Jimmy was a burly jock with a studly physique. As a fervent admirer of the male form, he was immediately attracted to Jimmy’s body. Of course he didn’t know who Jimmy was yet, he was just a stranger striding into his massage room uninvited.
“Hey, you’re Avery, right?” Jimmy asked. He cocked his head to the side and tapped his feet on the ground. He had a big round face — not chiseled or handsome like an action movie star, but jolly and earnest and strong. He was naturally powerful though he didn’t have a perfect body. He had a hefty frame, a barrel-shaped chest and plenty of meat to his body. He looked like he was naturally very fat, but only had an athletic shape because he was so high-energy. He was a tight end on the GHU football team.
“Uh… Hey.” Avery furrowed his brow at the shapely intruder.
“I don’t think it’s a big deal, I know she thinks I’m embarrassed, but I’m not.” Jimmy paused. “Okay, I am.” He laughed and turned red, his lightly Southern accent echoing against the high ceilings. “Okay, just… Are you okay? You don’t have to do this.”
Avery had been momentarily distracted by Jimmy’s physique. Now he thought he must have missed something. He didn’t know what Jimmy was talking about.
“Uh… what?”
“Didn’t Elaine tell you?”
“No. I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Avery said. “Oh… Wait, you mean Elaine Gambrill? You’re Jimmy?”
He beamed and pounded on his chest, then took off his shirt. His chest was set with huge strapping muscles. “That’s right.” He paused. “Sorry, I don’t know how to do this. Am I supposed to kiss you?” He blushed as red as a cranberry. “I can’t do that! Don’t make me do that! I’m like… I’m not allowed to kiss you, on account of, because of, the reason… See, I, uh… “
“Okay, Jimmy, tell me what you’re talking about. Where’s Elaine?”
“I just don’t want to kiss you.”
“Why was that ever the plan!?”
“It wasn’t!” He hopped up onto the massage table like it was an exam table and he was waiting for his doctor. He laid there with his hands behind his head. “Hey, you watch football, right? I was trying to get Elaine to come over to watch a game and she was being ridiculous. She said football is as boring as watching paint fly, which I think would be amazing, I’d totally watch paint fly. If it was blue, you’d never see it. If you were outside. And it wasn’t cloudy. And it was daytime. Or if it was nighttime, you’d never see it either, but for a different reason.”
“Ah. Okay.” Avery sighed. Elaine had said her new boyfriend was an idiot — she had said it much more nicely and hadn’t used the i-word, but now that Avery had met him, he knew exactly what Elaine had been hinting at.
There was a loud banging knock on the door and a hoot like someone was watching a stripper. Avery was startled, but Jimmy just guffawed. He got up and opened the door. He stuck his head out into the hall and laughed. “Fuck you, George! Get outta here! You’re the pansy!” He turned around and smiled at Avery. “Sorry, was that offensive words? He’s just a total retard. So it’s not offensive. Don’t tell Elaine.”
“Okay. Jimmy, Jimmy, please tell me what you’re here for. Do you want a massage?”
He had a big silly grin on his goofy face. “Oh wow, yeah! Can you do that?”
“Yes, Jimmy. This is a massage parlor. You have to pay. Elaine didn’t tell you I’d do it for free, did she?”
“Not the massage! But I’m not paying for the… other thing.” Jimmy blushed again. He bit his lip. “Is that… ? Sorry, are you…?”
“Jimmy, please just say it. What the hell is going on?”
“Didn’t Elaine tell you?”
“No! No! I’ve told you that, I said it before! If I knew what was going on, I wouldn’t have a face like a confused white guy, would I?”
He laughed again, or rather he continued to laugh, since he hadn’t stopped since he walked in, his deep barrel-shaped voice echoing in the massage room. “Okay, well, I… You’re supposed to, like… jerk me off.” He paused and licked his lips, his ruddy face breaking out in sweat. “Sorry, I guess I thought she told you. Oh, I am supposed to give you this. Is that right?” He pulled a jockstrap out of his pocket and handed it to Avery. “What do you do with that? It’s too big for you. Can you really sell that?”
“Oh.” Avery took the jockstrap. It was used, stained with sweat, and he could smell the unwashed musk of it already. He was too confused still to really think about what was going on. “What? I’m supposed to sell this? Like online?”
“Online? I guess, I don’t care. Is that a rule?”
Avery sighed. “Jimmy, why did you give this to me?”
“Elaine said I had to.”
“Did she give you a reason?”
“She said you would like it,” he said. “She didn’t say why.”
“Ah, okay. Thank you for explaining that,” Avery said. He rolled his eyes. He had made a joke once to Elaine about how he would like to sniff her boyfriend’s jock — that hadn’t been Jimmy, she was dating a different big buff athlete then — and she constantly brought it up. Avery blushed a little because she wasn’t exactly wrong; he’d probably sniff that and jack off later. He was hardly a jockstrap-enthusiast though.
“So you’re not going to sell it?”
“Sell it? No. It’s not-“
“So what do you do with it? Is it a collection?”
“A collection? Jimmy-“
He must have realized there was a sexual component then because his eyes opened wide and he jumped to his feet. He jumped up and down. “Oh it’s a… Oh shit!” He opened the door. “Hey, George! He’s gonna sniff it or something, I think. It’s like, he’s into sweat!”
George was out in the waiting room. He said something Avery couldn’t hear, but it sounded like he and Jimmy had been brainstorming theories as to why the jockstrap was important.
Jimmy went back to the massage table and sat down. He took his shoes and socks off. “I’m glad Elaine didn’t tell you to jerk me off. She might have told you to do it badly. Will you tell her I did it right? Tell her I asked about her. No, wait, tell her I was a good listener. Tell her I told you about the thing… about her job. Tell her I told you what she told me about her job.”
“What?”
“About her boss, he’s like… Jerry, I think. He, uh… She doesn’t like him. There’s a whole thing — I don’t remember, but tell her I said it. Tell her I was listening,” he said. He took his football jersey off and tossed it on the floor. His broad chest muscles were covered in scruffy tufts of fur.
“Listening to what?”
“To her!” He had a big grin like he thought Avery should already know what he was talking about.
“You mean the attendance policy at work? Jerry changed the rules about how much notice she has to give for time off.”
He nodded. “Yeah, that. Tell her I told you about that. Tell her I listen to her.”
“Jimmy… You aren’t really making much sense. Elaine told you to come see me, give me a jockstrap and you want me to tell her that you told me about her job, even though she didn’t.”
“She did!”
“You weren’t listening?”
“I was! I was trying! There was a football game on! Or, I mean, I was playing a football game on my X-Box. It was on the TV,” Jimmy said. “And you have to jerk me off.”
“What?”
“That’s the whole thing!”
“Oh my god, Jimmy, talking to you is like talking to the Cheshire Cat if it smoked a lot of weed. I’m supposed to jerk you off?”
“Yes!” He blushed again. He realized Avery was looking at his bare chest. “Hey, do you think…?” His eyes opened wide. “Oh shit, my neighbor’s like that! Whenever I lift weights he comes out and he has that look on his face!” He shrugged. “You might know him. Like… Spencer or something? He’s an… office… guy? He does something with paper. He uses a computer, I think. Maybe not all the time. Or is it a museum? Do people work in museums?”
“Jimmy, why did Elaine want you to get dome from me?”
“Oh,” he blushed and bit his lip. He jumped back up on the massage table, wearing only dirty jeans. “She said no one can deep-throat it cuz it’s too big.” He beamed proudly. “She said you’ll prove it. You swallow dick better than anyone. She said if you can’t deep-throat it, I can’t ask her to do it ever again.”
“Oh.” It was Avery’s turn to blush. He was a little annoyed that Elaine hadn’t told him first, but then, he suspected that she didn’t plan for it to happen that way. Jimmy was annoying because he had assumed Avery already knew the plan; Elaine no doubt assumed Jimmy would be nice and politely ask Avery to jerk him off. Jimmy assumed somebody else had made all the arrangements.
“You do it up the ass, right?” Jimmy asked. Then he blurted out, “Not me! I mean, I don’t wanna do anal, that’s not why I’m asking. Can you tell Elaine to do it? Tell her I’ll use lots of lube. Tell her it doesn’t always hurt-“
“Jimmy, hush.”
“Tell her that, okay? Come on, I can do it. I had a girl give up the ass once. She loved it.” He leaned in and whispered to Avery, “She was black. Is that okay? Can I say that?”
“Jimmy, be quiet,” Avery said, shaking his head. “Just stop talking. I’ll jerk you off if you stop talking.”
Jimmy did lean back, but only for a half-second before he got up and opened the door again. “Hey, George, he’s doing it! He’s gonna do it!” He laughed at whatever George said. “No way, man, you’d do that! You want it so bad! We all saw you with that fat girl!”
Avery grabbed Jimmy around the waist and pulled him away from the door. Jimmy’s strapping body tensed beneath Avery’s body because he tried to get back out in the hall. Avery dragged him in. “This is a spa, Jimmy, please stop shouting through the halls.”
“Okay, sorry, I was just telling George that we all know he fucked a fat girl, we saw her-“
“Stop, shut up. I know what you were saying. I was there,” Avery said. “Sit down and lean back.”
“Okay. I like fat girls. You’re bossy like Elaine is. You two must hang out bossing each other around,” Jimmy said. “Don’t tell her I said that. I meant it in a good way. Tell her that.” He paused. “Don’t tell her-“
“Jimmy, shut up. I’ll decide what to tell her about today.”
“Oh, sorry,” he said with a sheepish grin. He had just gotten back on the massage table, leaning back and about to pull his pants down when he sat up once more. He looked at the Delaware state flag on the wall (this massage parlor was owned by a Delawarean who was proud of his state for unfathomable reasons). “Is that… a flag?”
Avery rolled his eyes. “Sure is. Nothing gets past you,” Avery said with a sigh. “Elaine needs to sew your mouth shut.”
“No, I lick her pussy and I do a good job and I-“
“Jesus Christ, stop talking about vaginas. Lift your ass up, Jimmy.”
He did lift himself up so Avery could undo his belt and pull his pants down. “Okay, I was just gonna ask if you could-“
“I know what you were asking.”
“-talk Elaine into doing something hot so I could watch. She could do something with other girls. You’d have to provide the girls,” he said.
“I’ll check my pantry,” Avery said. His annoyance disappeared at the sight of Jimmy’s massive manhood. He had been so distracted it hadn’t really occurred to him that Elaine sent him here to prove that he couldn’t be deep-throated, which would only be an issue if he had a huge cock. Now that he thought about it, Elaine had mentioned it was more than a foot long and as thick as a coke can. Avery had assumed that was just bragging, but, it seemed, it was real.
“See, it’s big, huh?” Jimmy got up, limp cock flopping all over, to go to the door and say something to George again. But his pants were around his ankles, a fact that he forgot until he toppled to the ground. “Ah shit.” He groaned. “I fell.”
“Jimmy…” Avery sighed.
Jimmy struggled to stand again. He blushed. “Sorry. I was gonna tell George you were impressed by it. George always says no one wants to see that, he says I have an ugly cock like a dead cricket bat. It doesn’t even make sense. He says I shouldn’t whip it out.” He made it to the door this time. “Hey, George! He said-“
Avery clamped one hand over Jimmy’s mouth. “Jimmy, shut the fuck up. Quit yelling in my massage parlor.”
Jimmy turned around and shuffled back into the room, pants around his ankles and huge cock swaying between his legs. “Sorry. I just wanted to tell George you thought it was the biggest you’ve ever seen.”
“I… didn’t say that.”
Jimmy hopped back up onto the table. His dick bobbed around like a wand. “Hey, can black guys be werewolves?”
It was such a non-sequitur that Avery could do little more than do a double-take and ignore the question. He was excited to finally start on Jimmy’s cock. He shivered in anticipation when he touched Jimmy’s the shaft, which was fleshy and warm. He gave it a stroke.
Jimmy giggled. “Ah, that tickles.” He paused. “So what do you think, can black guys be werewolves?”
“I don’t understand the question. Werewolves aren’t real.”
“So?”
“So… no. Black guys can not be werewolves. No one can,” Avery said. “Can I just jerk you off now?”
“Yeah, fine, go for it,” Jimmy said. Then he shouted towards the door. “Hey, George-!” He stopped himself. He fished his cell phone out of his pants, which were around his ankles, so reaching down there almost made him fall off the table. If he didn’t have such a powerful upper body, he probably would have fallen. “I’ll text him so I don’t have to shout.” Then he did shout anyway, he just aimed it at his cell phone as he typed out his message. “You can’t have black werewolves, George!”
Avery stroked his dick. He hoped focusing on that would make Jimmy focus on his dick. If he got hard, Avery thought, Jimmy would have to pay attention.
“We’re going to write a movie. It’s about werewolves. Werewolves are really cool. Our movie’s gonna have, like, so much shit, it’ll be great. We watch all the action movies, man, we got it figured out. We’re experts. We’re totally going to do this. It’s not just werewolves, there’s like… helicopters. And some girl stuff too, don’t worry, like there’s a science chick and some romance shit, and like… and, uh… like there’ll be scenes where people just talk. And, uh, shadows. And colors. So it’ll be cool. We’re gonna call it Primal Power. It’s gonna be badass. There’s aliens too.”
His dick was getting hard, even though Jimmy seemed to be paying no attention to it. He looked like he thought Avery might invest in this movie if he just described it well enough. Avery had literally no money, but Jimmy didn’t consider that possibility. Avery got down lower and planted his lips on it. The taste of his funky cock, mixed with faint, watered-down cologne, flooded Avery’s senses.
That got Jimmy’s attention. He looked down, seemingly surprised by what was happening. Then he moaned and his dick twitched. “No vampires in the movie, George is wrong about that, no way am I putting vampires in… oh, damn that feels good.” Avery resolved to stop responding to him at all. Jimmy would have to stop talking once his dick was fully hard and in Avery’s mouth.
It was so thick and long it didn’t even feel real at first. Soon it was hard as steel, throbbing and pulsating beneath Avery’s tongue. Avery slathered spit up and down. For the first time since he had walked in, Jimmy was quiet for a few moments.
“Oh shit, man, I can’t believe you’re doing it,” Jimmy said. He laughed. “Hey, George! He’s doin’ it!” He laughed sheepishly. “My dick’s hard.” The he moaned again and his voice broke. “Ah, fuck, fuck, my dick’s real hard.”
“It’s so big,” Avery said with a smirk and a smile. It was hard to believe how huge it was. Jimmy was a big boy, so it almost didn’t seem as big as it really was — it didn’t go all the way to his knees, for example, because he was so tall, so until Avery touched it, it didn’t seem as big as others he had touched. But now that he stroked its veiny shaft, it was clear that this was bigger than any dick he had touched before. On a short man, it would have reached to his knees and maybe even past that.
“I got a donkey dick,” Jimmy said with a silly leer, a mixture of embarrassment and pride. “That’s what Coach Marshall says.”
“He’s right.” Avery tried to deep-throat him, but it was obvious that couldn’t happen. He’d have struggled to deep-throat a cock half this size.
“You can’t do it?” Jimmy said. He shrugged and sighed. “Can you tell Elaine you did?”
“She’d just make me demonstrate it on a zucchini or something,” Avery said. “She wouldn’t believe me. She’s smaller than me, Jimmy. If I can’t deep-throat you, she can’t either.”
“Man…” He rolled his eyes. “Fine.”
Avery swallowed as deep as he could. He enjoyed struggling to deep-throat a man, and Jimmy was perfect. When Avery’s fingers crawled up Jimmy’s powerful chest to tweak his nipples, Jimmy’s eyes opened wide like he was shocked. He watched his pecs ripple beneath Avery’s grasp.
A painful-sounded strangled cry erupted in Jimmy’s throat. His balls crawled up in his sac, and that entire cockshaft pulsated in Avery’s mouth. The flavor of salty cum hit him just seconds before the first jet of juices hit the back of his throat. It trickled down his gullet.
“Ah shit, man, ah shit, I’m sorry!” He groaned and grabbed Avery’s head, holding him in place as he drained a massive load into Avery’s throat.
Salty sweet cum flooded Avery’s senses. He guzzled down every drop, as Jimmy continued to apologize — it soon became apparent that Elaine (and probably other girlfriends in the past) had demanded that Jimmy not shoot in her mouth. With a big dick and low-hanging balls like that, that made sense to Avery. Jimmy apparently assumed that Avery felt the same way.
Instead, Avery loved cum. He would have gladly swallowed even more of it. Its creamy richness coated his belly and the sour flavor enlivened his senses.
He sighed as he pulled back. Jimmy let out an even louder, more grandiose sigh. He closed his eyes for a moment, while Avery slurped the last remnants of cum off his dick. Jimmy’s broad muscles twitched and he grunted.
“How was that?”
“Ah, hell yeah, man,” Jimmy said. His red face looked relaxed, ready to go to sleep. But he swung his legs to the ground and ran to the door again. He stepped out into the hall, cum-dripping cock still half-hard and jutting out from his hefty body. “Hey George! I did it! He couldn’t deep-throat me either, man, you were wrong! His throat isn’t infinitely big and I didn’t feel his Adam’s apple and he said the movie sounds amazing, but black guys can’t be werewolves, you dummy!”
“Jimmy! Shut up!”
Jimmy blushed as he realized he had walked out stark naked, dick still dripping fluids onto the floor. No one else was in the hall, but there was an old lady in the waiting room peering towards Jimmy as though trying to figure out if he was naked or not. She squinted through her glasses. Jimmy darted back into the massage room.
“Ah, man, that old lady totally saw my knob. Hey George! Did you see that old lady, she totally-?”
“Jimmy, shut up! Put your clothes on! Or I’m telling Elaine you’re a terrible listener.”
“Okay, fine, fine, sorry, geez,” he said. He giggled. “Oh, yeah, can you tell Elaine I take, uh, academics seriously? Tell her I study a lot. And I shower every day.”
“Just put your clothes on.” Avery sighed, glad to have Jimmy finally leave. He hadn’t even gotten his clothes all the way on, still pulling his pants up when he got distracted and ran into the hall. He shouted for George, tripped on his pants and rammed into the wall, where he knocked a painting of a lighthouse off the wall.
“Sorry,” Jimmy said absent-mindedly. He headed out into the waiting room. “He did it, George! I told you he would!”
Avery shook his head. He got out his cell phone. He was going to text Elaine something about her idiot boyfriend.