The Hairy Roughneck Bottoms

Madhu is a doctor servicing roughnecks from an oil rig, but when one of them comes to him with a major problem, Madhu is eager to help out… That’s because he’s gonna get to climb atop this hairy roughneck, giving him an adventure in Twink on Top!

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Madhu Sharma came home, exhausted. He had only just moved in, so his apartment didn’t feel like home yet, it still felt like a poorly maintained hotel room. But today’s shift at the medical center was twelve hours long, so he was too tired to care. This was the first time he had come home to this apartment and not felt like he was stepping into someone else’s house. He needed to take a shower and make himself some dinner, but he didn’t want to. He didn’t even have the energy to take his shoes off. Madhu plopped onto his couch, too tired even to turn the TV on, only to be interrupted seconds later by a knock on the door.
“Goddamnit…” He wheezed like an old man as he got up.
It was Harley Willard from down below, he realized after pulling himself up to look through the peephole. Harley was an oil rig worker who lived in the lower part of this duplex. He had a hairy chest, hairy arms and legs, a scruffy beard and a hairy back. The only part of his body hair that he trimmed was his beard, which Madhu thought was ironic. He didn’t try to explain the irony to Harley.
In the tiny town of Onagnok, North Dakota, virtually everyone was a male oil rig worker with tattoos, hairy bodies and rough demeanors. Madhu was one of very few people in town who were not roughnecks. Madhu was a medical resident, working at the town’s only clinic.
He opened the door, realizing as he did that Harley was nervous, like he was waiting for bad news. Harley tapped one foot on the patio as Madhu took him in. “Hi, Harley,” Madhu said.
“Hey, uh… Can I ask you for a favor?”
“Um… I guess so. What? I’m really tired. I just got off work,” Madhu said. He didn’t want to sound mean, he wanted to be on good relations with his neighbor. But he was off-duty. He didn’t want to talk about medicine right now.
“I know, I been waiting. I got an ‘ppointment for next week, but, I, uh… I found a lump,” he said. His eyes trembled like he was near tears.
“What?”
“A lump,” he said quietly, his brown, rugged face turning bright red. “On my, uh… testicle.” It sounded like he had never said the word testicle out loud before.
“Oh, well… Uh, you really need an actual appointment, I can’t do a full exam here,” Madhu said. He sighed — he wanted to be close to Harley, so he had a feeling he was going to talk himself into it. A testicle lump was serious, after all. If Harley needed to see a urologist, it would be better to find out now and get him a referral as soon as possible, rather than waiting for next week. It didn’t take any special equipment to palpate a testicle, just a pair of gloves (and even that wasn’t really necessary).
“I know, I gots an appointment, next week. I just… My dad died of cancer. Not, y’know ball cancer, but still… Can you just tell me if I should be worried? Or if I should go right to an oncologist?”
Madhu sighed. “Fine. Come on in,” he said. “Drop your pants.”
Harley must have been really nervous, Madhu thought, because he was already taking his belt off as he came in. He put both hands on the side of the couch and gripped it tightly. His pants were around his ankles, and those thick thighs were covered only by dingy white briefs. The vast layer of thickly choked leg hair pressed against the fabric of his underwear. His muscles were all tense.
He smelled strongly of sawdust and engine oil, a scent that sent a frisson up Madhu’s spine. He inhaled deeply of the invigorating aroma, every whiff of which woke him up a notch.
Craving caffeine, Madhu tried to wake himself up more. He had an ethical duty to do his best, even for something like this — it wasn’t a big deal from Madhu’s perspective. It was a big deal from Harley’s perspective, that was true. After all, it could be something serious. But it probably wasn’t, and all Madhu could do was feel a lump and refer Harley to a specialist. Madhu didn’t need to actually diagnose it and in fact couldn’t do more than say “yep, that’s a lump”.
Madhu had an emergency kit by the door, so Madhu grabbed a pair of gloves and slid his hand between Harley’s legs. Once he got the gloves on and had an array of medical equipment in front of him, he felt more alert and more professional, like the gear had triggered feelings from his medical school.
A sigh rattled out of his throat.
He palpated each testicle thoroughly. He turned on the doctor part of his brain and the part of his brain that loves hairy roughnecks went to mute.
There was no lump. He felt again, but there was nothing. Had he made a mistake? Madhu had done a urology residency already, he was confident in his ability to feel a lump (which was really very simple — a lump was a lump, you couldn’t miss it). There was an ingrown hair on the rear part of his scrotum, near the perineum, but that was it.
“Uh, Harley, where’s the lump? I don’t feel it.”
“It’s right there, in the back.” He reached between his legs and pointed to that ingrown hair.
“That’s not a lump. First of all, that’s not even your testicle, Harley, that’s your scrotum.”
“Yeah, but that’s the same region, right?”
“Well, yeah, same region, but there’s a big difference. That’s just an ingrown hair. Are you a chimney sweep?”
“A what?”
“A chimney sweep, like in Victorian England? In the past?”
“Am I from Victorian England? No,” he said. “Green Bay, Wisconsin. The present.”
“Scrotal cancer is very rare, basically unheard of except if you’re a chimney sweep, they used to get scrotum tumors,” he said. “The scrotum is just skin, so you can get skin cancer there, but you rarely get skin cancer without exposure to the sun, like a lot of it. So scrotums are pretty safe.” Madhu pulled out a pair of tweezers and pulled the ingrown hair out. Harley winced in pain. “That should be fine. Come in for your appointment anyway, sometimes these things get infected. Keep your crotch dry and clean. But you don’t need to worry, you don’t have testicular cancer.”
“Oh, thank god!”
“I’m glad you’re doing self-exams though,” Madhu said.
“How can I repay you?”
“Uh…” Madhu wanted to say that the obvious answer was to pay him with money, which he desperately needed right now, having just paid a lot to move into his new place. But that would seem greedy, he thought, and in any case, if Harley could afford to pay money, he wouldn’t have asked how to repay him.
“I mean… I can’t afford to pay anything in money,” Harley said. He turned around, showing his bare cock and hairy crotch. “But you jack off, right?” He flopped his dick between his thick fingers. “You’re into that, right?”
Madhu nodded.
“Well… There ain’t many women in town.”
“I noticed.”
“So, if you wanted to taste my dick, I’d be fine with that,” he said. Despite the hesitance in his voice, Madhu suspected he’d be more than ‘fine’ with it — he was horny. He wanted to blow a nut and didn’t mind where it came from.
But Madhu was annoyed at having to do work for free, when he was supposed to be off, especially silly work that would have been unnecessary if Harley knew the difference between a scrotum and a testicle. So he shook his head. “I’m not that kind of guy,” he said. “I’ll jack off with you if you wanna get a nut off, but I’m on top. You gotta get me off and take it in the ass.” He shrugged, assuming that Harley would never agree to anything like that.
“Fine,” Harley said, barely giving it a moment’s thought. He looked around Madhu’s apartment as though checking for witnesses. No one was here. In this remote part of North Dakota, there was virtually always no one around, wherever you looked — that was the main feature of this region.
But while there were few people generally, there were even fewer women specifically. That meant men like Harley were plagued with stiffies.
There was a long pause as Madhu tried to figure out if he was joking. “What?”
“I mean… I just wanna get my nut off, and I can tell you’s into it,” he said. “Back on the rig, me and the fat sonuvabitch Gerry got drunk and messed around cuz we was both so horny, and you know… there wasn’t nothin’ else to do. But that was gross. I ain’t like that one bit.” He blushed. “Jerry’s big and hairy, and he smells like feet. I discottoned to that. Since you a tiny little twink and you look like a girl anyway — no offense, darlin’ — I thought you’d be easier to take.”
“Uh, well… Okay,” Madhu said, so shocked that he couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“You will get me off, right? We can sixty-nine? I have gotta bust a nut. I’ll just pretend I’s on the rig.”
“You guys really do that on the rig a lot?” Madhu said. He took his gloves off and tossed them in the trash
“Nah,” Harley said with a chuckle. “Well, some guys do. Kinda. It don’t count on the rig. That’s sorta… you ain’t sposedta be squeamish about it, you know, if some guy wanna get off on you, you should let him.” He put both hands up. “I don’t truck with that. I like pussy. I fuck the everloving shit outta some pussy.”
“Hmm-hmm,” Madhu said. He felt small next to Harley’s broad-muscled body, which was bare now, muscle flexing with each breath he took. He was remarkably nonchalant about it, you could tell he got naked among strangers several times a day. He had the body language of it. He stood there, swaggering and sorta grabbing at himself as though to check all his body parts were still there, and he stretched his rough-hewn face too, like he was loosening up for a performance. Harley’s chest was tattoed, but they were old and faded and overgrown with body hair like a shut-in’s garden.
“What? Why you lookin’ at me?” Harley said. “Don’t laugh ’bout that shit on the rig — that’s how it goes — and don’t tell nobody, what happens on the rig stays on the rig, homeboy! That’s a rule!” He wagged his finger at Madhu. “I got that doctor-patient confidential, I got confidentials all over that one.”
Madhu nodded. “Yeah, yeah, don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. Everybody gets stiffies.” He paused. “Well, not women.”
Then he grabbed Harley’s dick, which immediately jumped to attention in his hand. It was a long cock, a fact that Madhu didn’t really notice until he had it in his hand and had switched from doctor-mode to jack-off-mode. His exhaustion after a hard day’s work disappeared in a haze of anticipation.
Harley’s wiry muscles and dingy, amateur tattoos trembled as he closed his eyes and Madhu dropped his own pants. Madhu’s dick was not as big as Harley’s, but it was nothing to sneeze at, and Harley looked at like he wished it was smaller. Madhu hefted his dick in one hand and thwacked it against Harley’s, which made him wince.
“Don’t even try ’bout puttin’ nuttin’ in mah ass, homeboy,” Harley said. His country accent was thicker now, as though he had either been speaking more properly when asking for a favor and getting medical advice or his arousal was making his Southern accent return to the forefront of his voice. He leaned back, as though ready to fall over if it weren’t for Madhu holding onto his dick, which remained flaccid so far.
Stroking both cocks at once, Madhu licked Harley’s nipples. Harley began flexing his hips, fucking Madhu’s hand like it was a pussy. Meanwhile his dick jerked, beginning to get hard as Madhu’s own cock leaked precum down his shaft. “You guys don’t do butt stuff on the rig?” Madhu asked. He let both dicks angle around together, while his hands explored the rippling muscles of Harvey’s chest. Harvey ignored his touches, and he just sat there like Madhu was here to bestow an erection upon him and he needn’t be involved beyond providing the dick.
Harley nodded. “Some fellahs do, it’s gross,” he said. “No offense. I mean… I ain’t in prison, I don’t wanna do no booty bandit shit. I was in prison too, a couple years ago, I know how that goes. I done watch this big-ass black fellah get turned inside out, shit, man, he was either howling for less or begging for more, I never found out, shit was crazy. I don’t fuck with that.” He paused. “No offense. It wasn’t a racial thing. Black guys was who was on top of him. It was all-black.” He looked down as though he only now noticed his dick was hard. “Thanks. You look like a girl anyway. Barely counts. There ain’t no females for miles around. That’s another rule. Once there’s no women around for a hundred miles, you have to give up the ass. It’s a roughneck rule.”
“There are women around-“
“Prostitutes don’t count.”
“There’s still a couple women around. Williston is less than a hundred miles away,” Madhu said.
“Well, that’s why I don’t do butt stuff!” Harley said. He took both dicks in his own roughly callused grip, and he stroked them together. Madhu’s hands continued exploring Harley’s well-muscled frame. As Harley masturbated both shafts together, his muscles flexed as though he had to use all of them to stroke both cocks together.
Madhu licked his lips, leaning in close to partake of Harley’s masculine musk. He smiled and sucked on each of Harley’s nipples, licking those thick work-toned pecs as he worked his way down to Harley’s half-hard cock. He kissed the tip, smiling as it jiggled and spasmed in excitement.
Gently pushing Harley to the couch, Madhu laid him down on his back. Then Madhu climbed atop, his thin twink body barely fitting on Harley’s massive frame. He had to delicately balance himself in the scrap of couch that was not covered by Harley, and Madhu nearly fell as he lowered himself onto Harley.
He pointed his cock into Harley’s mouth, surprised that Harley wasn’t resistant at all, and didn’t even seem too disgusted by it. He did wrinkle his nose as he tasted Madhu’s dick, but he didn’t resist, and his wide throat easily swallowed every inch. He gagged as it hit the back of his throat.
Madhu kissed Harley’s cock, slurping on the tip and licking up the precum that dripped down the shaft. Harley’s dick spasmed and shook. The veins of his manhood throbbed within Harley’s mouth, and the taste of his unfiltered manhood — a mixture of sweat, precum, and stale grease — wafted into Madhu’s aroused nostrils. He inhaled deeply of the intoxicating aroma.
They sixty-nined there for what felt like a very brief period to Madhu, but seemed like forever to Harley. He was so wide and broad-shouldered that he barely fit on the couch when laying down, and it was awkward to have Madhu on top of him. Madhu loved the feel of the man’s crude muscles writhing beneath his smooth twink body, and he especially loved his balls resting on Harley’s crooked, oft-broken nose, a remnant of his wilder bar-fighting days (or so he had told Madhu when they first met).
When he felt his own orgasm coming, Madhu got up. Harley growled like he was horny as Madhu’s cock pulled away from his mouth, as though he wanted to taste more of it. He seemed to forget he was straight for a moment. Thick tendrils of spit connected Harley’s mouth to Madhu’s dick.
“You’s a pretty boy… If’n I evuh get locked up again, I’m gonna hope my cellmate looks like you,” Harley said, his voice equal parts aroused and menacing. He bent over the couch and stuck his tanned ass in the air. He spread his legs wide and hung his head in a mixture of shame and anticipation. “Be gentle, boy.”
“I will. You can tell me to stop,” Madhu said. He smiled at the sight of Harley’s asshole, which was thick with dark blond hair. It winked as fresh cold air washed over it, and Harley’s whole body shuddered. He even moaned like he was in pain even though nothing had happened yet.
Madhu spat on his hand to use as lube, then when he felt how tight it was with his finger, he knew he needed actual lubricant. Luckily, his medical bag was already next to the couch, and he had a tube of lube ready there — it was actually more effective than the consumer-grade lube, so Madhu thought it would be ideal for a near-virgin like Harley.
“This’ll be cold,” he said, then dribbled lube onto the top of Harley’s asscrack. He squealed and shuddered, those perfect tan asscheeks shaking. Madhu gently rubbed the lube down Harley’s crack and to his tight hole. His finger hesitated there at the entrance, waiting for his sphincter to open up.
Then it did and Madhu let his finger push in. Harley winced and lifted one leg up like a dog about to piss. Madhu smiled to himself as Harley’s body slowly adjusted. He switched briefly back to doctor-mode, just long enough to feel Harley’s prostate — which was perfectly spongy, just the right size, a healthy young man’s prostate. Then he began moving his finger inside and out.
After a few minutes of that, Harley’s moan moved from pained to aroused, and Madhu knew that was it. This was his cue. He withdrew his finger and lined his dick up with that twinkling hot hole — he had to get up on his toes to reach.
Madhu pushed his dick in and sighed. Harley’s hole was tight, and he had to keep adding lube to get himself in. He hit resistance at the first inch, then the third, and it was a struggle to keep going.
Harley bit his lip and howled. Though it was clearly a pained sound, Madhu detected a faint note of pleasure as well. It wasn’t all bad for him, Madhu suspected. Harley’s voice broke as he submitted to inch after inch of Madhu’s dick. He kept raising his left foot higher and higher until Madhu had to push it back down — Madhu was so much smaller than Harley that the elevated leg made it difficult to keep going.
“Oh god, thanks, Harley, I really needed this,” Madhu said, clutching the big man’s broad back muscles. He had a few tats that looked amateurly done, either when Harley was in his youthful rebellion phase or in prison; either way, they were faded pictures of a naked woman, a Confederate flag and a rampaging bear, all of them wrinkled and writhing as pleasure and agony alike suffused Harley’s body.
The phone rang. Madhu thought it was his phone at first, but when he pulled it out of his crumpled-up pants, he saw that his screen was dead. Harley grabbed for his phone in his pants on the ground. He winced when he saw who it was.
“I gotta take this, it’s my boss,” he said, his voice resigned and annoyed. “Hello? Yeah. No, man! I ain’t taking a shit, I just… I sound weird cuz I don’t feel good right now, and I just stubbed my toe. That’s it,.” He winced and gritted his teeth as he talked. “Yeah. Okay. Yeah, sure, whatever. Of course I did. Tell him he’s just gotta tighten it. I am not. He knows how to do it. Get a vertical wrench, he can do it. I ain’t comin’ in. Don’t even say that. Nope. Just tighten all four corners. It’ll work. That’s all I’d do, that’s all I know how to do. I don’t know how to fix it, I’ve told you that a hundred times, all I know how to do is tighten all four corners! Then shove the wrench up your ass, maybe that’ll help, I ain’t comin’ in!” He hung up the phone and tossed it on the floor. He buried his nose in the couch cushion and moaned, his tone showing both anger and desire.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, just stick it in me!” Harley exclaimed, his voice muffled by the couch. Madhu couldn’t tell if he exclaimed because he was enraged, horny, impassioned or agonized, or maybe a mixture of all four. He bit his lip and hung his shaggy head low. Madhu caressed his thick mop of hair, which was greasy with the day’s sweat.
He began working his dick in and out, sighing as pleasure again suffused him. Madhu’s tension about a long day at work, and his discomfort in his new home, faded away. He felt his orgasm coming on, and he had a feeling Harley wasn’t that far away either.
“Gimme a reacharound,” Harley said.
“Are you sure. I thought you wanted to cornhole me when I was done?”
“Just do it, I don’t care,” Harley said, hanging his head. “I just need to get my rocks off now.”
Madhu grabbed his dick and stroked. Madhu was so much smaller than Madhu that he had to struggle to reach all the way around; his arm barely reached. But when he did get a grip on it, Harley’s whole body shivered and jerked. His dick pulsated, and Madhu could feel the imminent orgasm coursing through the prominent veins of his cockshaft.
Harley reached orgasm just seconds later, as though Madhu had flicked a switch. Cum sprayed over Madhu’s brand-new couch, and into Madhu’s fingers. Harley’s muscles all tensed at once, vibrating like a rickety car at top speed. He held his breath, grunting over and over with every pump of Madhu’s dick inside his guts.
“Oh damn, boy, that was nice…” Harley said, then blushed and bit his lip as though he hadn’t meant to admit he enjoyed it.
Before Madhu could respond, he shot his own load, and hot cum filled up Harley’s ass. Madhu’s thin twink body writhed just like Harley’s had, the movement making Harley twist as Madhu’s dick touched every corner of his insides.
Madhu pulled out and sighed. “Damn, Harley…”
“Fuck, I needed that,” he said. He blushed as he pulled away and wiped his ass off with a tissue. He breathed a sigh of relief when Madhu’s cock plopped out of him. “Fuck… I thought for sure I wasn’t gonna be able to cum wit’ yer dick inside me.” He blushed even harder as he verbalized what had happened. He avoided eye contact with Madhu.
“It’s okay, everyone enjoys prostate stimulation,” Madhu said. “That’s a medical fact.”
“Yeah, well… thanks. Don’t tell no one,” he said. “You can tell ‘em I let you jack me off. That’s fine, ain’t nobody care about that. But don’t let ‘em know I… y’know, did anything.”
“Don’t worry, I’m your doctor, Harley. This is all confidential,” Madhu said. He patted Harley on the ass. “You can put some aloe on your ass and Neosporin on that ingrown hair. They’ll both feel better soon.” He smiled as he watched Harley dress and head out the door.
“See ya,” Harley said quietly. He didn’t wait for a response, he was already gone.
That was fine with Madhu. He didn’t really want to hang out anyway. He just wanted to wait for Harley to come back for a second visit, or maybe one of the other roughnecks around here, Madhu thought, would be willing to come by and give him another exciting adventure.

The Fullback

Malachi is a football fullback… and a Jew on Christmas! So when Avery runs into him at a Chinese restaurant, he’s eager to swing on Malachi’s massive alpha male meat. Can Malachi perform on Hanukkah?

Read it now as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Avery enjoyed traveling during the holidays. He found it exciting, and he always met strange people and got into strange situations. He had gone to a Christmas Eve party for his extended family out in Florida and was heading back home to Sacramento. He decided to drive so that he could spend some time without his sister and her daughters — Avery lived with his sister’s family, whom he loved very much but occasionally needed a break from. They took a plane back to California. Avery rented a car and had one glorious week without the Frozen soundtrack dominating his life.
Let it go! Let it go! Let it goooooooo!
Avery was ready to let Frozen go. He was utterly sick of it. He drove west from Florida through Texas just so he wouldn’t have to see a lick of snow because he thought it would remind him of that movie, which he had positively adored when he first saw it. He dressed up as Elsa for Halloween. His nieces thought it was hilarious.
But his nieces performed the music from that movie (or really just that one song) so many times he would have gladly strangled every single character if he could. He would have supported a Constitutional amendment banning the song. He had even considered stealing his nieces’s copy of the movie (but they’d just buy it again). He was completely and utterly sick of it.
He awoke on Christmas Day in a cheap motel. Avery had hoped he might get a little excitement on this trip, and this motel seemed like a perfect opportunity. These sorts of cheesy motels in nowheresville — Hampton, Mississippi, in this case — were often crawling with muscular men who would gladly let someone like Avery service them.
But it seemed all the good ones were at home with mom, no doubt overeating cheesy gratins and dry turkey. Avery was disappointed. There was a tubby black guy in the room next door and an elderly white man down the hall. The motel clerk was fat and slovenly. Two tired-looking women shared another room. There was a nerdy fellow who looked almost cute, but he disappeared anyway, and Avery didn’t see him again.
So he just went out to dinner by himself. The only restaurant open on Christmas Day was the Chinese dive across the street from the motel. Avery intended to get some takeout fried rice and eat it while watching something arousing on TV — he wasn’t sure if there would be anything arousing on TV right now, but he wasn’t about to watch some Christmas special.
However, when he went into the restaurant, there was another patron there who sent all of Avery’s plans out the window.
The young man was tall, broad-shouldered, dark-haired, white but very swarthy. He had a curly mess of black hair, tangled and akimbo atop his head. He snorted as he shoveled rice into his mouth. He wore one of those little half-shirts that football players wore at practice, along with loose-fitting track pants. He didn’t seem to notice Avery. Nothing made him look up from that bowl of rice, except the pretty Chinese waitress who brought him a refill of ice-cold Coke.
Avery got his fried rice and sat down across from the young man, who furrowed his brow at him. “Sorry,” Avery said. “Is it okay if I sit here? No one else is really out today, but I hate eating alone.”
He shrugged. He looked uncomfortable, but he nodded, so Avery sat down. Avery introduced himself, and the man said he was Malachi.
“You a Jew?” Malachi asked.
Avery shook his head. “Nope. My family’s just doing a… well, it’s kinda complicated. My sister did a Christmas dinner at our parent’s house on Christmas Eve, and we’re doing… Nevermind, it’s not that interesting. I’m just celebrating Christmas like three different times this year, none of them on Christmas Day.”
“Oh.”
“You’re Jewish?”
He nodded. He spoke with a mouth full of rice. “You know what Samoans is?”
“Samoans? The people? They’re… people. From Samoa.”
“Are they Christian?”
“Uh… Yeah, I think so. Maybe. Mainly. I guess some are probably not,” Avery said.
Malachi nodded. He shrugged. “Don’t matter. There’s this Samoan guy… He gets all the chicks. He’s on my football team. I thought he wouldn’t celebrate Christmas. I thought he could get some Jewish chicks and give me one. Girls love him so much, they think his accent is sexy. Then he said he did celebrate Christmas, so he couldn’t be with me. He doesn’t even have a family out here, they’re back in Samoa. Fuckin’ asshole. He just didn’t want to hang out with me. He’s probably got Jewish chicks all over him. Girls fucking love him because of that accent and cuz he’s exotic.” He said that last word with a sneer. “He’s not even, really, I mean, Samoa’s way out there but he’s totally a normal dude. He’s into the fucking Kardashians and shit. When this cheerleader asked him how to cook some traditional Samoan thing, he had to look it up on Wikipedia.” He paused. “He’s got great hair, they like his hair. I’ll give him that one, he does have great hair.”
“Oh, you poor baby.” Avery smiled. “So you’re all alone? You’re the only nonchristian on your team?”
He nodded. “Coach says we have to do everything together, so now that they’re all gone for Christmas, I’ve got jack shit to do.”
“What are you doing for Hanukkah?”
He shrugged. “Nothing really. I’ve got a menorah set up back at my place. My mom’s sending me presents, but I’m not going back home for Hanukkah. Too expensive. I’m from California.”
“Really? Where?”
“Sacramento.”
“That’s where I’m from too,” Avery said.
“Oh. Cool.” Malachi bit his lip. Avery could see the thoughts running through his mind. He wanted to ask for a ride home, but he didn’t want to sound desperate, and he didn’t want to admit he couldn’t afford to pay for gas. Today was the first day of Hanukkah, so they’d get to Sacramento before it was over. Until it was an option, Malachi hadn’t realized how much he missed his family and wanted to see them for the holiday. “That’s cool.”
Avery cleared his throat. Malachi had finished his food, and he eyed Avery’s fried rice hungrily. Avery hadn’t finished it. He offered it to Malachi, whose massive fullback body bristled. He shoveled the last of it into his mouth in about three bites.
“So, uh… Malachi, I could drive you home. I wouldn’t ask you to pay anything in money,” Avery said. “But maybe… we’ll be sharing a motel room, so maybe you could let me have a taste of your cock?”
He furrowed his brow. “What?”
“Nevermind. You’re not into it-“
“Wait, what?” His muscles all shook and flexed, rippling up and down his body. “Wait, what? What? What?”
Avery chuckled. He hadn’t meant to make Malachi so nervous. Malachi blushed and stammered. He looked to the Chinese family behind the counter as though they would jump in. They didn’t seem to pay any attention though.
“I just… I think you’re really handsome, and I bet you have a big dick. It’s no big deal. Whatever. Here, let me just give you enough money for a bus ticket,” Avery said.
“No. I’ll do it.” He gulped like he regretted it as soon as he said it. “I’ll do it. We gotta… I gotta call this guy.”
“What?”
“Nevermind. Let’s go,” he said. “Will you buy me some shoes?”
“Wait, what?” Now it was Avery’s turn to repeat that a few times.
“You’ll buy me some new shoes, right? I need sneakers.”
“Oh. Well… Yeah, sure. Okay. No shoe stores are open though. Tomorrow,” Avery said.
“Yeah. Tomorrow.” He seemed ambivalent and nervous about doing this, even though he spoke confidently. His hand trembled when Avery brushed up against it, like he was terrified of accidentally holding hands with Avery. He cleared his throat but didn’t say anything else. His eyes were downcast.
It took Avery an embarrassing amount of time to realize that Malachi wanted him to pay the bill. Avery smiled and did so. He loved paying for men because it always made them nervous and there was nothing alluring than a nervous handsome alpha.
“Did you want me to pay the bill?” Avery asked. “I can treat you.”
Malachi nodded. “Sorry. I’m not a very good Jew.”
The waiter took a long time to finally bring the bill, and Malachi told Avery some long rambling stories about Hanukkahs past. Avery had shockingly little interest in Hanukkah or Jewish holidays in general, but he liked the way Malachi’s big jaw and huge square cheeks worked up and down when he talked. He had a big goofy face like his chest was hollow, and he guzzled from a glass of water like a dying man in a desert.
He had been at his college weight room, Malachi said, that was why he wore his half-shirt and trackpants. He wanted to work out there alone today. He hadn’t even showered afterwards — he said the hot water had been turned off — so he smelled musky and funky, which Avery loved. He had to resist the urge to bury his nose in Malachi’s armpit and sniff.
“I’ll take a shower,” he said when they got back to Avery’s motel room. Malachi gulped and blushed. “Then we can… I dunno, whatever.”
“No. No shower, not yet,” Avery said. “Let’s do the whatever first.”
“Oh god… You’ll definitely buy me shoes, right? Any kind I want?”
Avery furrowed his brow. “What’s your deal with shoes? Is this a trick? I’m not buying like twenty thousand dollar sneakers or something, if that’s what you want.”
“No. They’re like two hundred bucks.”
“That’s fine.”
He took a deep breath. “It’s just… there’s this guy on my team. His name is Raython. It’s a stupid fucking name, and he’s an idiot. I hate him.”
“You hate a lot of your teammates.”
“They’re fucking assholes, every single one of ’em,” he said with a snarl. “Raython is always braggin’ cuz he’s got a sugar daddy. When he started bragging about it in September, I thought everyone would call him call him names.”
“A sugar daddy?”
“But no one called him any names about it! He brags about it! Got some old guy who swallows his loads and buys him shoes and clothes and jewelry! This guy bought him a car! A car! And he sold it, like an asshole, so he could buy some designer handbag for this girl. Fuckin’ purse that costs three grand. Everyone on my team thinks he’s like a fucking genius.”
“So you wanna get in on that? You want a sugar daddy of your own?”
“Hell yeah! I’ll show him up. You gotta buy me something else though too. Besides the shoes,” he said. “Maybe something Jewish. Do they sell blinged-out menorahs? No, that’ll look stupid.” He brought out his smartphone. “I’ll find something on Amazon. The WiFi doesn’t work here, does it?”
“It’s been hit or miss all day.”
“Well, I don’t have much data left on my data package. I’ll probably run out soon. I’ll find something quick. You can order it and have it sent to the college athletic department, that way I’ll open it in front of everyone,” he said. He was intently focused on his phone.
Avery at first thought he should let Malachi take a little time to find something he wanted. But then Avery realized that was silly — he had the entire drive to Sacramento to figure it out. It might take that long too. Avery was beginning to think Malachi wasn’t that smart — he hurried to search Amazon because it hadn’t occurred to him that Avery had a phone as well, and Avery could afford a much larger data plan.
Avery didn’t want to distract him with that though, so he didn’t mention it. He just got down on his knees and planted his face between Malachi’s legs. His track pants smelled very sweaty, which made Avery’s dick hard. He must have worn these whenever he worked out, and he either didn’t wash them very often or he had just sweated into them so much that no amount of washing would clean them.
The taste was salty and bitter and astringent, and it tasted so good Avery drooled onto Malachi’s trackpants. Above his head Malachi grunted and grumbled. He looked down with wide-eyed amazement as though he hadn’t thought Avery was serious.
“Damn… Raython said it was easy,” Malachi said. “But it’s weird. It’s not like a girl. Girls don’t… sniff my crotch. Like a dog.” He laughed nervously.
“That’s cuz girls don’t know what’s good,” Avery said. He smiled and stroked Malachi’s dick through his pants. It was hard almost right away — Malachi had that youthful vigor still, and he got hard at the drop of a hat. Circumcised, of course, but Avery didn’t mind that one bit. It was hefty enough to be meaty in Avery’s hand.
“Shit, my battery’s almost dead too. I don’t know where my charger is,” he said. “Damn it, I’m not gonna have a cell phone all the way back to Sacramento.” Again, it hadn’t occurred to him to ask Avery to buy a new charger for him. Malachi, Avery thought, was a real dumbass. It’s a good thing he’s handsome.
Malachi gasped and his knees buckled when Avery pulled his trackpants down and took his cock out. Once again, Malachi looked shocked that this was happening. He held his cell phone in his hand and tried to keep clicking on it, but he kept getting distracted. “Estimated time remaining: seven minutes,” he said with a chuckle. “I better find something nice in seven minutes. Do you know about black guys? What impresses black guys?”
Slathering spit up and down Malachi’s shaft, Avery didn’t really want to talk. But he felt an obligation to help. “He’ll be more impressed if you aren’t trying to impress him. I thought you wanted girls, not him. What does it matter what he thinks anyway?”
“Cuz he thinks he’s hot shit! He’s some old man’s toy, and he thinks that makes him special! He gets chicks but only because his sugar daddy pays for stuff. He takes ’em out to the theatre, man. Not like a movie, I mean like… musicals and shit.”
“Girls like that-“
“It’s fucked up!” Malachi threw his hands in the air.
“Okay, Malachi-“
“He thinks he’s a fucking gigolo, but he’s not. He’s a manwhore. If his sugar daddy wore a colorful suit, Raython would be a street-walkin’ rentboy,” Malachi said. He looked down and watched his half-hard dick slip into Avery’s mouth, but he watched with disinterest as though he was so intent on fuming about Raython that he didn’t even notice where his dick was.
Avery decided to just ignore it. Malachi would calm down and focus on his dick when he was ready. Soon enough, his cock did get hard. Malachi moaned and bit his lip. He brought his cell phone back up and looked through it some more. “He thinks he’s hot shit because he’s so popular. I’m popular too. I’ve got six minutes left to find something. What about a couch? No, no matter how expensive that is, Raython won’t care. Jewelry, Raython wears jewelry. But I’m white, I’ll just look weird if I wear jewelry.”
Avery flopped Malachi’s massive dick over his face. He slipped his tongue up Malachi’s body, licking sweat off his belly. His muscles twitched and flexed beneath Avery’s tongue.
“What about a butt-dial? What if I accidentally called Raython while you were here? He could hear you giving me money,” Malachi said. “Nah, he’ll just hang up, he won’t listen. He’s at Christmas with his family.”
Avery sucked on each of his nipples. Malachi still didn’t seem to notice, not even when Avery’s tongue traveled up to his neck. Finally when Avery suckled on his neck hard enough to leave a hickey, Malachi winced and pushed Avery back down.
He chuckled dryly, and a bit nervously. “No, no. Anything above the neck is a kiss, man, and I don’t kiss dudes.”
“Okay,” Avery said. He went back to his knees and sucked the sweat off Malachi’s heavy balls, which tasted clean and salty, like a well-used but just-washed jockstrap. Avery sucked every drop of moisture off, making Malachi groan and shake so hard he put his cell phone down.
Precum flowed down Avery’s throat. He gurgled merrily on it, deep-throating Malachi, who seemed to have at last forgotten about his cell phone. He watched with baited breath as Avery swallowed his entire massive rod. Avery’s throat squeezed around it, and Malachi’s muscles all flexed, then relaxed, then rippled as his whole body undulated. His hands fluttered behind Avery’s head.
“Jesus Christ!” Malachi said with a moan. “Hell, I ain’t know dudes could swallow so deep like that. Fuck…”
Avery giggled at the thought of a Jew exclaiming about Jesus on Christmas, but he didn’t want to stop licking Malachi’s cock, so he didn’t point that out. He nuzzled his nose in Malachi’s dense, kinky pubic hairs, his tongue slithering out to tease his entire shaft.
Ready to move on, Avery pulled off his cock. Malachi gasped. Avery smiled up at him. He pulled out a bottle of lube and worked some onto his ass.
“Ah, shit, down to less than four minutes,” Malachi said, picking his phone back up. “Are black guys impressed by dirtbikes? I know the Texans on my team are always bragging-“
“Malachi, stop asking me questions about black guys,” Avery said. “I’m paying you for your dick. You have to focus on that, at least a little bit.”
“Sorry, okay.” He looked genuinely chagrined. “I just only have three minutes left to find something.”
“You have a whole fucking drive to look it up, Malachi, and you can charge your phone in my car. If you do it good enough, I’ll buy you a Ferrari. I can afford it. You need to focus. No matter what you do, the other guys on your team will think you are a pussy if you do it to impress them,” Avery said.
He paused. “A Ferrari? Really?” He sighed. “I don’t think I can do it that good. Sorry.”
“Black guys are not impressed by humility, Malachi,” Avery said, still gathering his breath from that cock in his throat.. He lifted his well-lubed ass up and twinkled his hole in Malachi’s direction.
Malachi sighed. “I guess you’re right. Raython has to find out about this though. I’m only doing it to show him up,” he said. “But I’ll focus on you now. Okay, okay, I can do this,” Malachi said like he was trying to convince himself. He stroked his cock a few times, aiming a very serious face at Avery’s ass, as though it had displeased him by being attached to a male body. He sighed. He winced as he slipped his dick between Avery’s cheeks. Then he smiled. “It really feels like a woman’s ass. Raython always said, that but I didn’t believe him. I’m glad you’re not hairy.”
Avery was about to tell him again to stop talking about Raython, but then Malachi’s cock slid into his well-lubed ass. Avery grunted. A jolt of pain and intense pressure ran up his spine. They both moaned in sync with each other.
The pain slowly melted away, bit by bit with every thrust of Malachi’s cock inside him. It was replaced by an ever-mounting wave of pleasure, growing stronger each time Malachi got another inch of his massive meat inside him. Each thrust amplified the thrumming pleasure in Avery’s body too, which made him growl and paw and the air in front of his face.
After a few moments of awkward dysrhythmic gyrating, Malachi seemed to get his groove. He grunted and moaned as he moved, his rod ramming all the way in then pulling almost all the way out. Avery’s sensitive rim quivered and stretched to accommodate him.
The feelings ricocheting around in Avery’s body were so intense he couldn’t quite handle them. He tried to make feminine orgasmic sounds, since men always preferred that, but the sensations overwhelming him were too potent to control. He couldn’t do anything more than moan and squirm as he struggled to accept Malachi’s dick. Spasms of bliss wracked Avery’s body.
“God damn, boy, hell, you got a nice ass,” Malachi said.
“Oy vey,” Avery said with a giggle. “You got a nice cock, boy.” He leaned his head back and licked Malachi’s meaty pecs.
Malachi chuckled. “This is really easy. I don’t know why I was nervous. I should have been looking for a sugar daddy a long time ago.”
“Yeah. You should. Tell your teammates. All football jocks should have a sugar daddy,” Avery said. His face was red, his own cock throbbing in his hands as he furiously stroked himself off.
Tendrils of orgasmic pleasure shot through Avery’s body. He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, but still moaned so loud he was sure that the tubby guy in the room next door heard. Avery squirmed in Malachi’s powerful arms.
“Oh, fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck…” Malachi gasped like he was surprised to orgasm at all. His muscles flexed and stayed tense, which Avery loved — he licked Malachi’s chest while Malachi’s cock throbbed in his ass.
Avery felt the cum flowing through his shaft even before the first few drops of it sprayed into him. Then there was a torrent of hot, sticky fluids flowing through Avery’s body. He let out a long, low groan that made Malachi shudder, the motion of which kept Avery’s orgasm going and sent Avery over the edge. He shot his own load onto the carpeted floor of the hotel room.
But even though Malachi had begun cumming before Avery, Avery still finished first — Malachi had heavy athlete balls and a hefty, testosterone-filled body, so he shot a massive load that matched his manhood. It just kept on coming, flowing into Avery’s body and trickling throughout his innards. His creamy cum coated Avery’s flesh.
Finally Malachi was done. He sighed and pulled out, making Avery twitch as he collapsed onto the bedspread. Malachi chuckled.
“Well, shit…” Malachi said with a deep breath rattling his cavernous chest.
“You have a nice cock…” Avery said dreamily. He wiped that moist shaft clean with a tissue. Malachi watched him do so with a satisfied grin. His chest had re-broken out with fresh sweat, which Avery licked off his taut flesh.
Malachi flopped down on the bed. He picked up his cell phone again, eyeing Avery dourly as he allowed Avery to lick his muscles. He endured it like a man allowing a pet cat to lick him: with a certain amount of bemusement even though he was annoyed by it.
“Huh, the cell phone’s still working. I’ve still got data, a couple bars left,” he said. He shrugged. “It’s a miracle, I guess. What about…?”
“The Ferrari?”
Malachi nodded.
“If you can do me like that at least twice a day till we get to Sacramento, I’ll buy the Ferrari. Do you have a job?”
“No.”
“Then I’ll also pay for your insurance and gas, but only till the end of the school year. Then I’m taking the Ferrari back,” Avery said. “You won’t be able to afford to keep it going anyway.”
Malachi nodded. “Fine. As long as Raython sees it so I can tell him where I got it.”
“Good. And if you need a note from me to prove it to him, I’ll write you a note, sweetie,” he said. He kissed Malachi on the neck. Malachi bristled but allowed it. Avery smiled as he played with Malachi’s limp dick. “Happy Hanukkah. This is going to be a fun road trip.”
“Yeah,” Malachi said. “Happy Hanukkah.”

Jail Intake

Greg got drunk last night, so when he wakes up, he’s under arrest and being processed by the legendary cruel alpha-male bully Officer Awful! He’s in for a hardcore tale of domination, submission and utter humiliation!

Read it now as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Greg was still drunk, but he felt serious now. It had all seemed like a big joke when he was being arrested. He laughed the whole time. But he had been left in the little waiting area for what felt like hours, and the silence and the solitude made him realize he was in big trouble. It was just some drunk-in-public stuff, but he had gotten into it with the cop — into it hard — and they were going to hit him with resisting arrest, assaulting an officer, destruction of property and who even knew what else! Greg was fucked.
Now at last a bulky cop with a shit-eating grin came to get him. That wasn’t the simpering little nerd-looking cop who arrested Greg for public drunkenness. This man had an air of authority.
“Good evening, Mister Hardesty, my name is Officer Auffernan. Some people call me Officer Awful. I don’t condone that,” he said. He held up one hand as though he was testifying in court. “But I don’t forbid it. I’m gonna process you into jail tonight. Now unfortunately our only judge for the weekend has gone home, so you’re going to have wait to be arraigned on Monday.”
“For public drunk’ness?” Greg hiccuped, still slightly drunk.
“I’ll tell you when the time for questions has come,” Officer Auffernan said. “And you should address me as sir.”
“Uh… yes, sir.”
“Hmm, thank you, Mister Hardesty. I’m going to start calling you ‘fuckweasel’. Will that trigger anything in you? Was ya mama raped by a weasel or something like that? Good.” He didn’t give Greg a chance to say anything. Officer Auffernan frowned down at Greg like a disgusting species of frog. “Now what I’m going to do next is punch you right in the belly, as hard as I can.” He lowered his head to look Greg in the eye. Greg blanched, but Officer Auffernan held his head in place. “But don’t you worry, there is a valid penological reason for it.”
Then there was an explosion of pain, so fast that Greg didn’t even realize it had happened until he was already on the floor, clutching his belly. He cried out and twitched so hard his head banged into the wall.
“Now get up and take ya clothes off. I need to search you for contraband. If you is bringin’ contraband into my jail, I will rock ya fuckin’ world, fuckweasel.”
But Greg could do nothing more than groan and squirm. He tried to stagger to his feet, but he was at a loss for breath. He hoarsely squeaked out a gasp, and he managed only to kneel on one foot.
“I said get up and take ya clothes off, fuckweasel!”
Every move he made was arduous. Greg let out a sob and a cry of pain as Officer Auffernan got down real close. He shouted like a drill instructor, his spit splashing onto Gary’s face.
“Take your clothes off, fuckweasel, right now, or I swear to God I will shove this entire jail up your asshole!”
Even as Greg started to unbutton his shirt, fumbling from both pain and terror, Officer Awful kept his face so near his breath condensed on Gary’s cheeks. “Hurry up, fuckweasel. I’ve got a nice hard cot with your name on it. You are gonna regret every day you ever breathed air on this planet, you are gonna feel like a mule rented by a red-headed stepchild if you don’t hurry your stupid ass up, boy. Do you think I am playing with you? Huh? Do you?”
“No! No!” Greg gasped. One of the buttons flew off his shirt, which ripped as he tore it off himself. He threw it on the floor.
Officer Awful pushed Greg over as he tried to drop his pants, and he fell to the ground. “Hurry up, fuckweasel!”
“I’m trying!” Greg ripped the fly of his jeans trying to get them off, as he sobbed into the linoleum floor. It was cold and felt wet, in a vaguely urinal-y way that churned Greg’s stomach. Humiliation rose up in him. He didn’t know how his life was turning out this way. He wasn’t this kind of guy — he wasn’t a criminal, a bad boy.
Was it the alcohol? Greg didn’t think of himself as an alcoholic. He didn’t drink every day. Well… not every day. There was a day a couple months ago… Greg somehow got his pants off over his shoes, which he kicked off as he squirmed on the moist linoleum.
“Alright, fuckweasel.” He grabbed Gary’s hair. His clothes were off, and he lay flat, panting, on the floor. Officer Awful grinned, revealing dimpled cheeks, like he woulda been handsome if he weren’t so craggy and worn. “I’m gonna tell you something in just a second. You should know that I’m telling you this as a friend — or a potential friend — this is not in my position as an officer and representative of the state government.” He took a deep breath as though confiding a great and vital secret. “Here it is: you should beg me to spit in ya mouth. It would make things go easier if you do that, as a gesture of submissive goodwill.”
“What?”
Greg doubled over again as Officer Awful punched him once more in the gut. He was already on the floor, but he now could not get up. Spasms of pain wracked his body.
“No questions!”
Greg gasped for air. He tried to apologize but couldn’t.
“Get up, now, fuckweasel!” Officer Awful mock-kicked him — kicking his foot but stopping it just centimeters from Gary’s body, so Greg flinched and wept each time. He buried his face in his arms. “Gonna turn ya head into my soccer ball, fuckweasel, if you don’t get up.”
When Greg could do little more than crawl, Officer Awful deemed that good enough and opened the door to the next little locked corridor in the jail. Crawling was the most humiliating experience in Greg’s life. His bare ass poked up high in the air, and his knees ached, his stomach ached, everything ached. He wanted to puke, run, cry and hide all at once.
“Please, uh… what, uh…you can do that, uh, spitting thing, just let me up-“
“Don’t you speak like that to me, fuckweasel. If you want something, you address me like a man, as sir, and you plan your words before you open ya mouth. None of this uh or ah business. That’s for girls and pansies, and I don’t see tits or petals on you.”
“Okay, please…” Greg found it difficult to be blunt and not say uh. “Please, you can spit in my mouth-“
‘I know I can. That ain’t what I told you as a friend,” he said. “Wasn’t you payin’ attention? I was tryin’ to be helpful.”
“Please spit in my mouth!”
He smiled again, and took off his sheriff’s hat. “Why, don’t mind if I do.” He hunkered down real close to Greg and hocked up a loogie into his mouth. It was clotty and thick, and it smelled like a doorknob. He spoke moistly as he gathered up spit in his mouth, making Gary’s stomach churn. “In my jail, we call this a ‘bitch-kiss’. It’s how a prison top makes his bottom know his place.” He let loose with another giant wad of saliva and phlegm that plopped in Gary’s mouth.
Greg choked and tried to spit it out, but Officer Awful grabbed him by the neck, squeezing tight enough that he nearly lifted Greg off the ground. Greg squealed and sputtered. Officer Awful spat again, directly into Gary’s mouth, then again. His lips were so close they nearly kissed.
“You feel it, fuckweasel? Ya feel how intimate this is?” He paused and hocked up a loogie in his mouth. He forced himself to couch to fill his mouth even more. He very moistly said, “You my bitch now, fuckweasel. I’m gonna make you open up and suck up the spit in my mouth now. It’s gonna taste real nasty, but you’re gonna choke it down while I watch. You ready?”
Greg shook his head.
“Tough…” He squeezed Gary’s cheeks until his mouth opened, and then a massive mouthful of spit and fluids landed in Gary’s mouth. He still hadn’t swallowed what was already there, so his mouth was overflowing now. Saliva flooded his face from his forehead to his chin, both Officer Awful’s and Gary’s own.
Officer Awful very slowly forced Gary’s mouth closed. “Swallow, fuckweasel. Swallow…” He massaged Gary’s neck like he was forcing a dog to swallow a pill.
Greg gagged and retched, but Officer Awful kept his mouth close and Greg could do nothing but choke back the gags emanating out of his raging stomach. He kept one arm curled over his belly as though to keep it all in. Finally he had quelled the nausea, though he could still taste snot in his mouth.
Before he could recover, Officer Awful dragged him into the next room. A handful of other officers were visible through the windows here, watching and laughing. Greg couldn’t hear them, but he could see their faces light up when they saw him. The nerdy-looking officer who had arrested Greg was there as well, leering at him. They all cheered when Greg let out a choked sob.
“Can… Can I say I’m sorry?” Greg asked. He nodded to the nerdy officer. “Can I apologize to him? I was rude to him before, last night. And… I might have hit him, I don’t remember-“
He doubled over in pain as Officer Awful punched him in the gut again. Through the soundproof glass, the watching officers laughed and cheered.
“You got freedom of speech, fuckweasel. You can always apologize. Jail rules say you can’t ask no questions, that’s why I had to punch you,” he said. “They can hear you through the loudspeaker.”
“Uh… I’m sorry, Officer… Uh… I don’t know your name-“
“Boy, what did I tell you about sayin’ uh?”
“I’m sorry!”
“Well, I appreciate your apology, fuckweasel, and yes, you were quite rude to my fellow officer last night. You said some very hurtful things. Words are weapons, doncha know. So, despite ya ‘pology, you still gotta spend a weekend with me. Don’t worry. I’m sure we gonna be real good friends,” Officer Awful said. “Do you enjoy gettin’ gutpunched?” He did so again, even harder this time, making Greg double over and gasp for air. His flat belly was crying out in pain. He could there was gonna be a huge colorful bruise there tomorrow.
“C’mon…”
“This is not the time for begging. This jail has a begging period every day, please save it for then,” Awful said. Then he directed Greg to stand over the drain in one end of the room, with his legs and arms spread, leaning against the wall. Greg’s bare ass dimpled and jiggled. It was cold in this room.
“Are you gonna…?” Greg wanted to ask if Officer Awful was going to cornhole him. That’s what it felt like in this position. But he couldn’t ask questions. “This position is… it feels like you’re going to cornhole me.”
“Oh. Do you want me to ram you up the asshole til ya buttcheeks fall off? Keep your head still, fuckweasel.” Officer Awful was doing something, getting some piece of equipment ready, but all Greg could see was the wall in front of him. Or was Awful taking off his belt?
“No, don’t! Don’t do that!”
“What was that? Are you begging me to ram you? If you really want me to, I’ll consider it later, fuckweasel. It’s technically against the rules though. Close your eyes,” he said. Then there was a cloud of white powder in the air. Greg coughed and sputtered. Officer Awful made him turn around and covered him in more of the acrid white powder. “Turn back around.”
Greg hacked as he tried to get his breath. His stomach still hurt from being punched, and his drunken headache was getting worse. He could tell — even though he couldn’t hear or see them — that Officer Martin and the other cops in the next room were laughing at him.
Water sprayed onto his back. It was ice-cold, and it made Gary’s balls crawl up in his sac. He gasped and twitched.
“Stay still, fuckweasel!”
The water was so cold Greg couldn’t breathe. His skin tightened up, and his stomach dropped. Officer Awful made him bend backover, sticking his ass in the air. He sprayed water from the hose directly onto Gary’s asshole, which hurt so bad Greg screamed. He clawed at the wall of the tiny room.
Finally the water turned off, and Officer Awful dragged Greg away, into the next room once more. Greg tried to get on his feet, but Officer Awful didn’t give him a chance to. Greg was naked and wet, so he kept slipping and couldn’t even crawl for more than a few feet, he kept collapsing as Awful kicked him and dragged him over the floor.
“Please!” Greg cried out, then clamped his mouth shut lest he start begging again, outside of the designated begging time. He wondered if there was really a designated begging time.
He was dragged over the linoleum floor, naked and wet, dizzy, nauseous. He begged, but Officer Awful barked at him to be silent every time he said anything, so all he could do was pant.
As it turned out, the next room was a medical examination. There wasn’t much to it though — Officer Awful tossed him up onto the cushioned chair and rammed his finger into Gary’s ass so fast Greg hadn’t even finishing sitting down before he felt that finger wiggling inside him.
“Let’s take a walk,” Officer Awful said. “I wanna make sure I search all up in you, and that means you gotta move. Shift your contraband around.”
“I. Don’t. Have. Any,” Greg said, gritting his teeth through the pain. He forced himself to take a step, then another, but every move he made sent waves of agony through his body.
At least he reached the doorway, and Officer Awful gave him a shove. He stumbled forward, Officer Awful moving with him and that finger stayed in his asshole the entire time.
Those other cops were there in the next room, watching and cheering as Greg stammered. He couldn’t even think about a plan because of the pain in his ass.
“Wreck him! Wreck him! Wreck him!”
“Put him on his knees, Auffernan!”
Officer Awful moved his finger like a fishhook, pointing down, and in order to alleviate the pain, Greg lowered himself. Soon he was on his knees on the ground. Officer Awful at last removed his finger.
But the relief was short-lived because he shoved his finger in Gary’s mouth. Greg gagged at the assy taste, but his head was jammed against a wall.
Then before Greg could even get his bearings or stop gagging, his mouth was pried open. He knew what was coming, but it was still shocking to feel that fleshy, rubbery limp cock slide onto his tongue. He choked all over again. Officer Awful let his dick slide out of the fly of his uniform slacks, ramming as much of it as he could fit into Gary’s mouth.
“You got contraband in yer throat, fuckweasel? Huh? If you do, I’ll find it, swear to God, and I will ram you so hard yer mama gonna feel it,” Officer Awful said. “Now listen here.” He rammed his cock in as far as it would go, maybe halfway in, as it started to stiffen up. “My pops always said you ain’t ram a fuckweasel’s throat hard enough till there’s tears comin’ out of his fuckweasel eyes and there’s ballsweat dripping from his fuckweasel chin. Ya feel me, fuckweasel? You had better swallow enough of my dick to rub my balls on your chin.”
Greg was dizzy, and he choked so hard it hurt his stomach, but with Officer Awful’s cock in his throat, he couldn’t do anything but squirm. The wall was hard and stubbly, scratching against his skin as he moved up and down. It was iron-hard, pressing at his throat like a battering ram.
Finally Officer Awful backed off to let him have a breath. Greg collapsed to the ground, but he had no sooner taken a breath before he was on the floor on his back. Officer Awful pushed him into position, then kneeled over his face so that his balls plopped on Gary’s nose.
“You had best loosen up that throat boy, or there is gonna be some consequences. You won’t like ’em one bit,” he said. Then he bent over Gary’s body like he was doing a push-up. He pointed his dick into Gary’s mouth and slammed down with all his weight.
Greg choked once more. He had never regained his breath, and now his throat was sore even before that massive cock pushed in. But Officer Awful was relentless. He pivoted his hips, laughing as Gary’s throat gradually lost its resistance.
Soon Officer Awful’s balls rested on Gary’s nose and eyes. Gary’s whole world went white, and at first he thought it was cum, that Officer Awful had finally shot his wad. But no, he just lost consciousness for a few seconds.
When he went limp, Officer Awful pulled up and out of his mouth. He patted Greg on the back of the head and chuckled as he hoarsely gasped. “There you go, you did it, hoss, good boy,” he said. “That means I am gonna ram you in the ass, but just one time. And then… well, if you be good, I just might let you go. Got it?”
He nodded.
“See, now you answered me without using words, fuckweasel. I don’t like that,” he said. “Not at all.”
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry!” Greg squealed and sobbed. “I do understand. I’ll do whatever you want.”
“I know… Get on your back, lift your feet in the air,” Officer Awful said. He got on his knees. Greg was terrified, and he especially didn’t want to take that massive dick up the ass in this position. But of course, he didn’t have any choice.
“I like rammin’ like this cuz it hurts my bitch,” Officer Awful said as though that was a good rationale. “Plus it lets me finish with a punch and a choke, so you’ll have that to look forward to.”
Greg tried to think of a way to ask what that meant without asking a question, but he had a feeling he knew the answer. Officer Awful smirked at him. He spat on Gary’s face again, and as Greg winced and gagged, he drilled his cock in.
He lightly smacked Greg on the cheek. “I’m in you now, bitch. Guess how many inches you got in ya.”
“Uh… I-“
He smacked Greg harder, and Greg groaned. “What did I tell you about saying uh?”
“You said not to. I apologize. It hurts…”
“Guess how many inches you got in you?”
“Three?” Greg had no idea, it was just a random guess.
“Wrong. Gimme yer hand,” he said. He didn’t wait. He grabbed Gary’s hand and brought it forward to his ass. The movement made the pain worse. He touched Officer Awful’s cock with one hand. There was still a whole lot of cockmeat to go. “Feel that? You only got like a half-inch in your ass.” Greg could hear deep male voices laughing from the other room — the officer who arrested him, maybe more cops too, they were over there laughing as he endured unimaginable agony.
“Yes, sir, Officer Awful.”
“Now start chanting, thank you big brother, can I have another? You got that? Keep sayin’ it ‘till I get all my dick in ya,” he said.
“Thank you big brother, can I have another! Thank you big brother, can I have another! Thank you big brother, can I have another! Thank you big brother, can I have another!” Greg shouted it at first with nothing happening, but then Officer Awful started to ram his dick in between each chant. “Thank you big brother, can I have another!” Over and over again, he pumped his hips in the silence between chants. And each time, that caused mind-blowing agony in Gary’s asshole. “Thank you big brother, can I have another!”
It continued for what felt like forever. Greg didn’t know how he managed to do it, but eventually he felt that heavy hand close over his mouth.
“Shut up, fuckweasel,” he said with a groan. “I’m all way in you now. You’re my property. Say that.”
“I’m Officer… Officer Awful’s property,” Greg said. He bit his lip and threw his head back. The pain was excruciating, and it quickly got worse as Officer Awful began to gyrate his hips back and forth.
His balls slapped against Gary’s asshole. He wrapped his arms around Gary’s ankles and pressed them close to his muscular chest. His cock throbbed deep in Gary’s ass, which squeezed and churned. He clawed at Officer Awful’s chest, but to no avail. Awful was built like a bear, and he rammed like a stallion.
“Beg me to cum. Come on, be like a porno chick, man. Improvise a little,” Officer Awful said. He spat in Gary’s mouth as soon as he opened up to speak.
“Please… Cum in me… I want your cum inside me…” Greg said through his tears of pain and humiliation. That massive cock drilled into him, back and forth, demolishing his ass, regardless of how Greg squirmed or his hole clenched. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry I was rude and drunk… Please fill me up with your cum… Please-“
He was cut off because all of a sudden Officer Awful’s hands slapped Greg’s cheeks. He then squeezed Gary’s throat, hard enough to choke him, and his other hand formed a fist. It hovered above Gary’s face.
Greg tried to scream, but he choked, so all he could do was tighten and spasm. His whole body shook. His asshole clenched around Officer Awful’s cock.
Just when he thought the pain couldn’t get any worse, Officer Awful finally punched him right in the nose. Gary screamed in pain, as Officer Awful let go of his neck and Greg let out a series of hoarse sobs. That cascade of sensations inside Gary’s body was what sent Officer Awful over the edge.
“Cummin’ up in you now, boy, you in the home stretch…”
He gasped. Greg screamed. That spectacled officer, still watching outside the room, clapped and cheered. Cum sprayed into Gary’s ass, deep, hot and creamy. It stuck to his flesh and seeped into him like mud. He choked and gagged even though nothing was in his mouth.
“Hell yeah, fuckweasel, you got a nice ass,” Officer Awful said with a sigh. “Had a nice ass.” His cock spasmed inside Greg, sending more thick wads of cum inside him. It was a massive wad, it felt like, gobs of it spreading to every corner of Greg’s insides. He felt the heat seeping into him.
Then at last, Officer Awful withdrew his dick. The most incredible relief of his life flooded Greg, who closed his eyes. He shuddered, a frisson running up his spine. He didn’t want to ever open his eyes again.
That meant he didn’t see when Officer Awful scooted forward, reached for his mouth to open it and ram his dick inside. The taste of ass and cum intermixed in Gary’s mouth, making him retch and gag so hard his stomach hurt. The shame of tasting his own ass on another man’s dick flooded Gary, and the only consolation was that he was crying too hard to see what he was doing or how many cops were laughing at him.
“Clean up your mess, fuckweasel,” Officer Awful said. He swiped his dick over Gary’s face, making him lick every inch of the shaft, tracing every vein, as Officer Awful moaned and curdled above him. The taste was foul and sickening, and Greg couldn’t stop gagging, both from disgust and from the shame of those other cops watching him at his lowest.
Finally he was done. Officer Awful pulled away, stood and pulled his pants back up. He straightened his uniform. When Greg moaned and tried to stand, he kicked him in the thigh and Greg collapsed to the ground.
“Stay here,” Officer Awful said. “Now that I’m done checking you in, it’s time to show you to your cell. Don’t worry, I promise I won’t do that again and again all weekend.”
“You said… you’d let me go…”
“I said I’d consider it. And, I am going to let you go, eventually,” he said. He winked at Greg. “But you still got punishment coming to you.”