fatness – Page 2 – Mansploitation

The Cocky Guido

Avery is at the Jersey Shore, where he finds himself servicing a cocky guido named Freddie. He can’t get enough of that Italian slab of manmeat!

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Most guidos were actually fat or skinny. They were arrogant, orange-skinned prettyboys who weren’t even pretty. The men at the gym had turned out to be a bitter disappointment.
That was the Cornerside Gym of Northtown Meadows in Seaside Heights, New Jersey. Avery worked there. Cornerside Gym had a reputation nationwide as a place for serious meatheads, weightlifters, boxers, etc., and the gym didn’t even accept women as members except where legally required to.
Seaside Heights, New Jersey, was not one of those places, so no women ever came into Cornerside except as cleaners at night. Avery didn’t mind that one bit. He enjoyed watching men work out, and he greatly appreciated the physiques of the men who worked out here. Seaside Heights was on the Jersey Shore, so a lot of those men were guidos.
It wasn’t like the guidos from that teevee show though. In the real world, most guidos were fat, or at least the ones who came to Avery’s gym were pretty tubby. They didn’t seem to realize it though. They carried themselves like they had good bodies they wanted to show off. One of them even once pulled up his shirt and smacked on his protruding belly as he insulted a skinny nerd in the locker room, even though the skinny nerd was in better shape than he was.
It was disconcerting. More than once, Avery wondered if he had wandered into an alternate reality where the standards for having a good body had changed. Still though, there was something about their cocky confidence that was arousing even when their bodies weren’t perfect, and sometimes they had both the perfect body and the cocky confidence.
Those, of course, were Avery’s favorites. One of them was Freddie Rizzoli.
Freddie walked out of the weight room one afternoon wearing nothing but sandals and a pair of sweat-marinated basketball shorts. Freddie was short and squat, too muscular for his body size, like he had trouble supporting so much muscle, yet he didn’t have that awkward-bodybuilder shape either — he looked too muscular only because he was so short, he packed more power than seemed possible into a small space.
“That’s right, man, fuck it! I told them how it is!” He pounded on his chest, talking to some friends as they all headed into the locker room. His bare chest flexed. He ran his fingers through his greasy slicked-back hair. “I don’t even play like that, man, swear to God! No disrespect, baby!”
Avery blushed and looked away. He hoped he didn’t look too obvious. He went about his business, ignoring Freddie and the other guidos. He heard them grunting and encouraging each other as they did bench presses. They were touchy, gripping each other’s muscles and casually masaging each other’s shoulders in between sets. When walking by, he even saw Freddie laying on that bench press with those sweat-soaked shorts clinging to his flesh. The outline of his huge, uncut cock was clearly visible pressing against the fabric of the shorts. It left nothing to the imagination.
When Freddie lifted, he grunted and his dick twitched. Avery drooled a little. He hurried away. Avery’s own cock was rock-hard, and he couldn’t stop thinking about Freddie. He rushed home to jack off.
But then he didn’t see Freddie at the gym next time he went. Avery was disappointed.
It wasn’t until a few weeks later that he saw Freddie again, still with those same couple of friends — he seemed to spend all of his time with them. Freddie ran his fingers through that over-brushed mop of straight, crunchy hair as he went into the locker room, having finished his workout, muscles drenched in sweat and cradled by the too-tight tank top he wore. Avery wondered if he could come up with an excuse to go into the locker room to check Freddie out. He blushed even though he was alone, not wanting to feel like such a lush.
But Freddie and his friends remained in there for only a minute or two. They returned with towels around their waists, having taken off their shirts. Avery watched sweat gleam on Freddie’s chest — which was freshly shaven, and not at all orange (Freddie actually tanned using sunlight, unlike most of his friends).
“Man, it’s just head,” Freddie said to one of his buddies, with a haughty chuckle, “you shouldn’t be picky about head.” He grabbed his dick through the towel around his waist.
“Why not?”
He laughed as though the answer should be obvious: “Cuz then you might get less. A mouth is a mouth, after all. So long as it’s warm and wet, who cares what she looks like?” His friends snorted and agreed with him, except for the one who had asked the question. Avery didn’t mean to follow them, but they went in the same direction he went. They went to the sauna, whereas Avery intended to walk past the sauna to go to the employee lounge. Freddie glanced at him and nodded his chin in his direction. “Fat girls love suckin’ dick,” he said quietly, like he thought Avery would scold him for being crude.
“Ain’t that nasty?”
“You ain’t gotta look down, do ya?” Freddie said as he went in the sauna, friends following behind him. They guffawed and slapped Freddie on the back. Freddie’s dimpled face, wide-eyed and exhilarated, was visible through the little window in the sauna door.
Wow, he is a champion douchebag… That was one aspect of guido life that came through on TV loud and clear. Avery didn’t like men because they were nice though.
He liked men with muscles and machismo and manhood to spare, and Freddie as exactly that sort of man.
Avery was disappointed that he didn’t get to watch Freddie any longer. Unfortunately, the sauna was one of the few spots in this gym where he couldn’t justify simply walking in whenever he wanted. Staff normally stayed out of there, and there was no storage or anything else he might have been able to use as an excuse. Plus, he had some actual job responsibilities he needed to get back to eventually.
For now though, he kept an eye on the little window in the door though. He was able to watch Freddie’s shoulder muscles flex as he laughed. The sight of his muscles and the sound of his arrogant alpha-male laughter made Avery’s dick twitch and harden up in his pants.
Avery was about to walk away to jack off alone when he heard some low murmured comments in the sauna, followed by more chortling laughter. It was very loud this time, loud enough to startle Avery from his daydream. From the tone, he guessed somebody had made some sort of scandalous joke. Something about the sound made him stand flat against the wall, listening the best he could.
A part of him could tell that they had been talking about him. The hairs on the back of Avery’s neck stood on end. He couldn’t put his fingers on what made him think that until he heard their words, but he was certain of it even before he listened.
“Man, that ain’t what I’m sayin’!” Freddie insisted, his voice audible through the door. It sounded like he was trying to stay light-hearted, to prove this wasn’t a big deal, whatever it was. Avery could hear him rolling his eyes in there as his friends laughed at him, a forced smile on his face to make himself seem easygoing even though he wasn’t. “A mouth is a mouth is all I’m saying. That’s how they did it in the Old Country-“
“As though you know, man.”
“Fuck you, bitch, say that to my face!” Freddie barked and everyone fell silent. That part was clearly audible outside the sauna. Then Freddie cleared his throat and chuckled like he hadn’t just snapped. “Yo, I been there, you know that. In Sicily, man, if you act like some disrespec’ful punk, man, you get on ya knees, boi! Verità!” He laughed cruelly. “I ain’t done it myself, but I know how shit goes down. My uncle got this one punk who owe him money, man, he puts that bitch in his place e’ry day, man!” He paused. “‘Cept on Sunday, man, he don’t do that. That’s God’s day.”
His friends murmured quietly in response, but nobody challenged him. It sounded like Freddie said this frequently and they tolerated it but didn’t approve. They exchanged glances with each other, and they laughed politely at Freddie’s antics. As always, he had taken it too far. Freddie always took things too far. When his friends laughed, he laughed harder. When his friends bullied a nerd, Freddie got too mean about it and did time in juvie. When his friends smoked weed or drank beer, Freddie smoked or drank until he puked. When they insulted a pimp, Freddie insulted him so bad the pimp tried to stab him.
The one thing Freddie couldn’t do was stop himself.
Freddie didn’t like the idea of his friends thinking of him as a braggart — he liked the idea of being old-school, hardcore, not behaving like some “prettyboy”, as his father would have called his friends. Only pansies worried about projecting an image; a real man trusted that reality would show off his manhood to everyone who needed to see it. His body streaked with sweat, he made sure his friends could all see his muscles. He kissed first one bicep, then the other, and he let his towel “accidentally” fall away to reveal his gigantic dick.
He knew he had the biggest dick among his friends. He made sure they never forgot it. His shaft was more than a foot long, veiny as fuck, and it was thick like a coke can.
“Man, Freddie, admit it, you playin’, right? You wouldn’t do nothin’ like that, and we all know it,” someone said, and everyone else fell quiet. They all shared knowing snickers with each other. “This ain’t the Old Country-“
Freddie scoffed loudly. “Yo, you don’t even know, man. No disrespect, but you don’t get how a real man is, ya feel me?” He sniffled and laughed to show how little he cared for that suggestion. He shrugged like it was no big deal. “If you got a real man’s cock and balls like me, you need to use ’em, y’know. That’s how Italians do, man, ya gotta drain ya nuts.”
“That’s why you get fat girls, man-“
“Yeah, well, fat chicks suck dick the best, everybody knows that. They know how to get deep, and they don’t get pissy about it if you force it in deeper.” He imitated a girl’s plaintive voice begging for more cock, and he pumped his hips, shadow-fucking a woman’s mouth. “Oh, it’s too big, don’t make me deep-throat it, Freddie, I can’t take the whole thing. But it tastes so good… Oooh, I want more…” He switched back to his own voice. “When I get a woman, I get inside that pussy, man. It’s all about the pussy.” He paused. “Or ass, ‘course, if she a dirty bird.”
“You could get some ass right now.”
“Yeah, do it, Freddie.”
Freddie snorted. “What?”
“There’s that dude out there, right? The one who works here? The little flamboyant one?”
Avery blushed. Am I caught? They must have noticed me checking him out. Avery was the only one who worked at this gym who might be described as a “little flamboyant” man. Avery held back a giggle.
“Yeah, he wanna slurp yo’ balls, man. He looked at you like a fat kid looks at cake.”
“So let ‘im.” Freddie shrugged. He wagged his pecker towards his friends. He guffawed too, slapping his knee at the sick look they made — they didn’t like being reminded that he had the biggest cock in the whole crew.
“Yeah, that’s some Old Country shit, Freddie. Does ya dick work or not?”
They all laughed, all except Freddie. He bit his lip and scoffed again, like this wasn’t a big deal and of course he would do it, like there was no doubt, even though the hesitation in his voice was palpable. “I mean… yeah, like… Uh-huh…. He prolly ain’t allowed to.” He cleared his throat. “Gym prolly got rules and shit.” Then he let out another forced laugh, like that ended the conversation and he wasn’t going to continue it. “So what’re you’s doin’ tonight-?”
“Uh-huh, you scared?”
“He is, he’s worried his dick won’t work-“
“Probably worried the creep gonna have a bigger dick than him.”
“What if the dude makes him bend over and ramrods him like a prison bitch?”
“That’s prolly what’ll happen-“
“Freddie gonna bottom for him-!”
They all laughed, all again, except Freddie, who roared and bellowed. “Man! I could kick that punk’s ass!” Even as he said it, he knew it made him sound weak — it was obvious he could kick that punk’s ass, that’s why his friends had suggested otherwise as a joke. Freddie knew he made himself sound defensive and weak, but he couldn’t help himself. He hated it when anyone questioned his masculinity, even a little bit. “I could do it, no problem. No disrespect, but I could knock that boy’s block off.”
Having a feeling that Freddie was about to come out of the sauna, Avery stepped away. He went to the closet just down the hall and made it look like he had just brought the mop bucket there and needed to move stuff around to make space for it. Since he wasn’t near the sauna anymore, he couldn’t hear what they said, but they kept laughing and chanting while Freddie listed excuses.
“Man, you know how I am, I don’t like, y’know… This gym is real important, I don’t wanna ruin it, y’know, get kicked out and shit. Gotta get my gym on, pump up the muscles, y’know-“
“Uh-huh, Freddie, just admit it, you’ve never jacked off in a dude’s mouth-“
“And you never would-“
“And you know fuck-all about how they would do it in the ‘Old-Country’-“
“All you’s guys can go fuck yaselves,” Fredde said with a grimace. He flexed one bicep and kissed it again, showing off a dimpled smile — for no clear reason that Avery could tell, Freddie was just unsure of himself and filled up awkward pauses with bluster and self-worship. “Course I’ll do it. Ain’t nevuh said I wasn’t gonna do it.”
Finally Freddie came out of the sauna. He had only a towel wrapped around his waist. He blanched at the sight of Avery like he had hoped maybe Avery would have left by now.
But Avery was there by the closet, fiddling with the mop bucket. He smiled at Freddie.
“Hey, uh, yo…” He sounded like he was going to ask a question politely. But then he heard his friends all clustered by the door to hear, poking at his back and teasing him under their breath. He felt he needed to maintain his macho image. So he grabbed his dick through his towel. “Yo, freak, you wanna slurp my meat?”
Avery blushed. “Uh…” His first reaction was, of course, to say yes, but he instinctually wanted to avoid looking too pervy, and Freddie was such a jerk Avery had an unquenchable desire to tell him no, even if he really wanted to say yes. So he played coy. He giggled and touched Freddie’s nipple, making both pecs flex in sync with each other. Freddie furrowed his brow. “I don’t know,” Avery said with another girlish giggle.
“Course you do.” Freddie scoffed. He took a deep breath and dropped his towel, standing there cockily in the hallway like he expected Avery to be so turned on by his foot-long dick that he couldn’t help but start swallowing it down right then and there. He was almost right, but Avery kept a nonchalant look on his face, despite desire blooming deep within him. When his posing didn’t result in Avery dropping to his knees, Freddie just scowled and said, “Come on.” He opened the door to the sauna.
Avery blushed but came in. The other guidos were rushing to get their own towels over their waists — they had been wearing the towels, but they hadn’t bothered to keep them secured, so most of them were loose; now that there was a stranger in the sauna, they made sure to fix the towels.
“Ah, shit, is he really doin’ it?”
“Oh damn, Freddie!”
“Bow-bow-chicka-wow-wow!”
Avery and Freddie were in the center of the sauna, which forced the other guidos by the door. They all clustered together as though worried they’d get splashed on. Though they thought it was too weird to be near Avery, they didn’t mind bumping into each other, clasping each other’s sweaty muscles and getting so close together they could taste each other’s bodies. Avery could even see one man’s towel ride up enough on his thigh that his dick protruded and rubbed against his buddy’s hairy orange-tanned thigh — they were all so engrossed in watching Freddie that no one noticed.
“Well, get on ya knees, boi!” Freddie said, pumping his biceps for the benefit of his friends. He even kissed one bicep, which made Avery giggle. Freddie ran his fingers through his greasy black hair. “You’s guys thought I wasn’t gonna do it, you thought I was just playin’!”
“Freddie’s fo’ real!”
“Aw, shit, baby!” one of them shouted, ran forward a few feet and smacked Freddie on the ass — that seemed to be some kind of inside joke — before going back to his compatriots. As he did, his towel fell, baring a splendid orange-brown ass, gleaming with sweat in the overheated sauna. Avery wondered which of that guido’s friends spray-tanned his buttcheeks.
“Get ya naked ass outta here-!”
“Don’t let your dick touch me!”
They shoved him away, and the one who had run away from the group looked behind his back. He didn’t want to pick up the towel that he had dropped because it would mean he had to bend over, ass facing either his friends or Avery and Freddie. Finally he squatted awkwardly, covering his crotch with one hand, picked up the towel and wrapped it around his waist again.
Avery sunk to his knees. He blushed, embarrassed at the leering, laughing guidos who surrounded him. Freddie had a nice big cock. His pubic hair was trimmed, which Avery was not a fan of — he preferred a more natural man — and his chest was shaved as smooth as a billiard ball. But that gym-toned body was perfect enough to make up for any disappointment in his lack of hair.
When he took Freddie’s dick in his mouth, Freddie gasped but tried to cover it up by sternly grunting, so his friends didn’t think this was a big deal for him. He crossed his arms over his pecs and flexed his muscles, making Avery giggle and blush again.
“See? You’s guys is a bunch of pansies, gettin’ all squeamish like girls,” Freddie said with a scoff, as though this had happened a hundred times and Freddie was fed up with their response. “A mouth is a mouth, boi!” He flexed both biceps over Avery’s head.
But Avery could sense the nervous energy in the thrum of Freddie’s muscles and the tension even in his relaxed limbs. It didn’t bother Avery none, as he focused on slurping that rod down deep.
“Damn, Freddie…”
“Get deep in his throat!”
Ruddy arousal bloomed over Freddie’s face and chest, his tanned neck turning burgundy. His tongue lolled around inside his mouth. Sweat covered his body. Freddie tensed up because he was worried he would cum too quickly. He had been raised to think being on top made him tough but cumming too quick would make him weak — a real man should take a little time to fuck his bottom’s throat.
But taking a break or otherwise slowing down directly would look weak too. Freddie’s instinct was to grab Avery’s head and fuck his face aggressively. He didn’t entirely want to to do though, because it would require touching his head and reminding himself he was with a man. In any case, he was sure that would make him cum right away.
“Swallow it, yo…” Freddie paused and added, in poor Italian, “Succhiare il mio cazzo!” He thought a little trash-talk would be a good compromise — it would make him look tough without making him cum more quickly, and that sentence was one of the few Italian things he could say confidently. So he said it again, “Succhiare il mio cazzo!”. He chuckled. Ain’t nobody else here knew what that meant, so Freddie flexed his pecs to make them bounce and sneered down at the weak man slobbering on his knob. Spit dripped down the shaft and soaked his pubic hair. “Aw, shit, you gonna play with it like a tubby bitch, huh? You best-” His voice broke, which he only barely managed to cover up by coughing. A shiver of potent pleasure ran up his spine. Freddie blushed — it wasn’t obvious because he was very tan and he was ruddy anyway from the heat in this humid sauna, but he could feel it, and he grew antsy trying to affect a nonchalant attitude in front of his friends. “You best deep-throat that shit, baby…” He winced as his friends laughed — he hadn’t meant to call Avery baby. That was a step too far, he thought.
“Baby? You two gonna fall in love?”
“Ooooooh! Freddie’s in love!”
“Fuck you, man, you’s guys-” Freddie pumped his hips one time, cutting off his own words because his dick rammed all the way into Avery’s throat and an explosion of pleasure like nothing he had ever experienced wracked his body. It felt so good it hurt.
He had never been deep-throated like this. He couldn’t admit how unprecedented it was because he had been bragging to his friends for years about how he made his girls deep-throat him. He said that they loved it. He specifically said that his balls rested on their chin when he came. That had never been true until now.
His balls slapped against Avery’s chin, and Freddie let out a tortured crying wail as an orgasm erupted within him. Already his friends snickered — that had taken maybe three minutes — and hooted as they slapped his ass.
He grunted, his orgasm so intense it almost hurt, and he gripped Avery’s head tightly, ignoring his short, masculine haircut. He grimaced and sprayed a massive wad down Avery’s throat, filling his belly up with creamy warmth.
The taste was salty and savory, and Avery guzzled down every drop. He loved straight boy cum because it had a vibrant, spring-like quality that made him crave more even as he swallowed Freddie’s load and licked every drop off his limpening shaft.
It just kept on flowing, more and more. Freddie’s eyes opened wide as he watched. His friends peered closer — they’d never really seen someone cum before. Of course they’d watched porn and they’d fucked their girlfriends alongside each other — they even once gangbanged this older lady who had begged for Italian meat — but they had always been distracted by their own desires and the female flesh around them. Not this time. They had no reason to look anywhere else, and like people unable to turn their heads away from an accident, they stared as Freddie’s dick throbbed and pulsating.
Great creamy gobs of cum spilled out and over Avery’s face. He saw all those eyes staring at him, and he thought to make a big mess, letting most of the cum in his mouth overflow. That embarrassed them all.
“Aw, shit-“
“Lookit that nasty!”
“Oh it’s all over his face! It’s all over his face! You the man, Freddie!”
“Ah, shit, yo, damn…” Freddie said. He shook his head and sighed, trying not to reveal how surprised he was by that big load. Avery had really pulled it right out of his balls. Freddie shrugged as though that was how much cum he normally shot. “Damn… Alright, I was, y’know… You can go now, man-” His voice broke and his friends laughed at him. “We done, you, uh… I used you as quick as I could. I wasn’t tryin’ to take a lotta time, so now you gotta go.” Freddie again knew he sounded defensive; he sounded like he was embarrassed about how quick that had been (which he was), but he couldn’t stop himself. “Man, that was what they call a cazzo veloce in the Old Country.”
Avery remained sitting right there. Freddie was so focused on demonstrating to his friends how macho he was and how he had forced Avery to slurp his dick then leave that he didn’t notice that Avery hadn’t left. Avery sat next to Freddie and clutched his muscular body. Freddie was too uncomfortable to make him leave, so he endured it until he and his friends had finally had enough of the sauna.
Then they left Avery there to remember the taste of Freddie’s fine Italian cock. That, Avery thought, had been unici deliziosi!

The Cook

Avery is after a hunky waiter, but when he gets shot down, he finds himself servicing a perfectly chunky cook with a cocky attitude and a manhood to match!

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Avery Flowers ate the salad. It was a terrible salad. It was just a little plastic container full of lettuce, with a half a tomato plopped on top, and a cup of ranch dressing on the side. It was obvious no one ever ordered the side salad.
That was fine with Avery, he wasn’t here for the salad. He was here for the men. Or one man specifically.
His name was Robert Halberman, and he was handsome like a movie star. He had deep dimples and a trim, lean body, with high cheekbones that looked like they were sculpted from the finest clay. His chin was strong and wide, his jaw high and square. He had a thick shock of black hair that was slicked back.
He was handsome enough to make Avery forget how disappointing the salad was. It’s not like he wanted it anyway, it was just an excuse to be here.
“Hey, man, whatchoo puttin’ it off for? She gave you digits, you best use ‘em or I might!” That wasn’t Robert, that was the cook behind the little window into the back. He was chunky and had a few acne scars on his cheek, but Avery hadn’t gotten a good look at him yet — he certainly wasn’t handsome like Robert, and he seemed obnoxious. Avery wished he would go away.
Robert said something that Avery couldn’t catch, and the other guy exclaimed, “Hell yeah, I’ll take a run at her. She might like me, ya never know, homeboy!” His deep barrel laugh filled the air.
Avery already didn’t like the cook. He was loud and grating. As closing time drew near, Avery wondered if it would be possible to get Robert alone. It was just the two of them, so he hoped that the cook would have stuff to do in the kitchen while Robert prepared the front to close. That would be convenient. It would give Avery plenty of opportunity to talk to Robert.
This place did mostly takeout and delivery, so no one came in during the last few minutes they were open. Then the elderly Chinese woman who did the deliveries this evening got her last order and left. She locked the door on the way out because it was two minutes to close.
No one had told Avery to leave yet, but he had finished his salad — or rather, he had nibbled sufficiently on his bowl of lettuce (the tomato half was too underripe to eat). He saw Robert sneaking sideways glances at him. It was no doubt weird for someone to come in and eat a terrible, overpriced salad at nearly midnight. But Avery had really come here for Robert, not the salad (and secondarily, Avery had come here to get away from his mother, who was probably farting herself to sleep right now after having tuckered herself out muttering racist comments at the news).
“Hi, sir, we’re closed now. You can, uh… stay and finish,” Robert said. “For a little while, but, uh…” He had the mop bucket out, and he smiled, flashing those charming dimples at Avery.
“Yeah, no problem,” Avery said. “I’ll be gone soon. Can I make you an offer first?”
“An offer? What?”
“I’ll give you two hundred dollars if you let me take a swing on your dick,” Avery said. “I’ll slurp you dry, man, I’ll-“
“What? No way. No. I mean… gross, man, no way.” Robert blushed. “I got a girlfriend. And no, y’know, just plain no.” He backed away.
Avery was deflated and embarrassed. He had really thought that would work. He could tell he had intimidated Robert. That happened sometimes.
‘Oh well’, he thought. ‘It was worth a try. Tomorrow I’ll take an uber’. There was an uber driver around here, a Brazilian hunk who seemed willing to take his dick out at a moment’s notice. Avery didn’t even need to pay to jack him off, he was so enthusiastic it was too easy.
That made it less fun though. He didn’t like to admit it even to himself, but Avery enjoyed the hunt. He liked tracking down straight boys and getting them to cross that line. If he didn’t get turned down sometimes, then he wasn’t pushing his luck enough, that was how he saw it.
He got up to throw the remains of his “salad” away. He thought about getting a bottle of water for the ride home, but it was so expensive here, and Robert had probably already shut down the register.
“Ha ha ha ha ha!” That cook laughed so loud it echoed in the squat little corner pizza shop. “You gettin’ paid, boi! How’s dat?! Huh? What? You fuckin’ pansy-ass, a mouth is a mouth! What’s ya goddamn problem, jabroni?”
The cook waddled out to the front of the shop, his big cheeks ruddy, which covered up the spot of acne scarring over by his left cheek. He was thickly built — he definitely didn’t have a six-pack, but he wasn’t fat — he looked like he fancied himself a bodybuilder and lifted weights a lot, but ate too much of the pizza he cooked here to really have a great body.
He had dark hair like Robert’s, but his was curly, tangled and greasy, slick with sweat. He did not have sculpted cheekbones — he had no cheekbones at all that Avery could see — and his jaw was entirely too square, giving him a cavemanish look.
So he was not a handsome movie-star type. He looked Italian though, like he should really work in a pizza shop — he even had a map of Italy with the state of Puglia colored in tattooed on his wide but short neck — while Robert looked more like a dark-haired Irishman.
“Hey, yo, man, lemme rap atcha, huh? I heard you like some manmeat. I know I got some hella belly, I see that, swear to God, I know I ain’t on the slim and skinny prettyboy train!” the cook said. He lifted up his shirt to reveal his paunch — which was really minimal, he sort of carried himself like a fat guy, Avery thought, which accentuated it. If he lost just twenty pounds, he’d have a perfect body.
Avery didn’t mind that though. He blushed at sight of the cook slapping his belly. He didn’t need his men to have a perfect body — to some degree, he thought, an imperfect body was more interesting. He’d met plenty of swarthy loverboys like Robert, but the cook was novel.
“But I got meat to spare, lemme tell you, bud, lemme say that. I got all kinda meat, I got Italian sausage — no lies, man, swear to God, I swear to motherfucking God, you got me? You wanna see it?” He made like he was going to drop his pants right here in front of the wide open windows. He undid his belt, then grinned — he had dimples too, deep pools excavated into those chipmunkian cheeks — and put it back. “Can’t do it here, and you gotta pay if you wanna see it, huh?”
“Well-“
“I ain’t no kinda liar, swear to God. I got a foot of meat, and I think you can pay me to see it, okay? I’m from Queens — and my name is Vinnie Delatucci, okay? Nice to meetcha-” He shook Avery’s hand vigorously, then he rammed Avery’s hand down his pants. Avery yelped in surprise as his hand brushed over a big sweaty dick. “Grab it so you can see-” Vinnie yelped and blushed when Avery actually grabbed his cock, like he hadn’t thought Avery would actually do it. “See? Ain’t no baby dick like Robert’s-“
“Shut the fuck up, Vinnie-!”
“Hey! You said no. I am a firm believer, yessuh, that the customer is always right, baby. You see, back in Queens, New Yawk where I’m from-“
“You ain’t gotta tell no one that, Vinnie. Literally no one is impressed,” Robert called out from the counter, where he counted up credit card receipts.
Vinnie puckered his lips. “Man, you don’t even know, you don’t even know, boy, swear to God. I call it how I see it, that’s right, motherfucker. Back in Queens, swear to God, there’s all kinda old dudes who wanna touch a big dick, they say it makes ya dick bigguh-” For the first time, Vinnie seemed momentarily flustered. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, swear to God. They’s always payin’ motherfuckers, you know, you can easy anytime make a couple bucks off some old-ass freak.” He paused. “You ain’t a old freak, I ain’t callin’ you that.”
“Hmm-hmm. So you’ve done it before?” Avery asked. He tweaked Vinnie’s nipple through his uniform polo shirt.
“Nah.” Vinnie sniffled, watching Avery touch his chest with wide-eyed amazement. “I had females beggin’ for my meat. So I ain’t need to get wit’ them. Ain’t got time. You don’t even know, swear to God. Chicks around here is a bunch of prudes, swear to God, ain’t like New Yawk chicks-“
“Don’t listen to him, man, he was a tubby shit in high school-“
“I ain’t talkin’ ‘bout high school-!”
“You left New York City when you graduated, motherfucker, ain’t no girls into you unless they wanted to get grope some tubby fat kid who probably stank like his sister’s oozing pussy-“
“Don’t you talk ‘bout my sister! I wasn’t — man, he don’t even know, he don’t know ‘bout New Yaw — that’s what you call it, man, swear to God. Only outsiders say New Yawk City. And none of that’s true, man, swear to God-“
“It is so true! His brother told me! And I am an outsider, man, I’ve never been to New York City-“
“Don’t fucking say that-!”
“Shut your fat fucking face-!”
“Hey!” Avery screamed. He smiled. “I don’t care who was fat in high school.” Both men looked at him, and Avery waited to be sure they would stay quiet. “Vinnie… Yes, I’ll take you up on that. But you have to put it in my butt too, okay?”
Vinnie scoffed and sucked on his teeth. “Of course, man. I’ll stick you good, fo’ real, you won’t even know. You gonna get rocked, boy! Gonna wreck that ass, fo’ real.” He shouted and clapped his hands. “You got a hotel room or some shit?”
Avery shook his head. “Do you have a supply closet?”
“Fuck yeah, that’s nasty, that’s real nasty, I like that,” Vinnie said. Despite his overconfidence, Avery detected a trace of anxiety in his voice. Vinnie scoffed. “In the closet, yeah. You ain’t gonna snitch, right, Robert? Snitches get stitches.”
“I won’t snitch.”
“Good. Get in there, boy, and get on ya knees!” Vinnie said. He affected a nonchalant look. “I’ll come plow ya throat in a sec, boy, swear to God. I gotta make a call, y’know-“
“He’s gotta call his bitch-ass sister to tell her not to come pick him up right away-“
“Man, shut up, you don’t even know, you don’t even know-“
“That’s what it is, mister! His sister is such a nasty slut-“
“Donchu talk ‘bout my sister, man!” Vinnie headed towards the kitchen, swaggering and screwing up his face.
Avery just ignored him. He decided that Vinnie’s bluster was best ignored. That seemed to be what Robert did anyway. He didn’t know how that argument was resolved, all heard was Vinnie’s deep voice repeating his catchphrases — “You don’t even know, Robert, swear to God!” His Queens accent made it sound like yew done evehn knaw, Rahberh, swuh to Gahd! Several times it sounded like Vinnie was about to punch Robert.
But somehow, it was all resolved in the time it took Avery to find some towels to kneel on. Vinnie swaddled in, his hefty body barely fitting in the doorway because he didn’t open it all the way — as though hiding from someone, though no one was around but Robert. His ass was big and plump, barely fitting in his nasty jeans that reeked of pizza grease — he probably wore these to work every day.
“Man, you gonna beg for it? Lemme hear you beg.” Vinnie sounded confident, but he still looked less so than he wanted to — his body language was nervous. He crossed his arms over his chest. Avery was quite sure that he had witnessed someone do it like this, some macho New Yawker who had leaned back against a wall and looked very cool letting a man jerk him off. Vinnie looked like he was imitating someone Avery had never met.
“Please, let me taste your dick, I’ll do it so good, I promise. You can smash my throat real hard,” Avery said.
“Course I can, baby, that’s how I do! We call it how we see it, swear to God, I ain’t even playin’!” Vinnie pounded on the wall as though he was continuing his argument with Robert. Then he gulped audibly in the darkened closet — there was a dim light sliding in from the hallway outside, but it was otherwise dark in here. He unzipped his jeans.
“Hmm… No, take your pants down,” Avery said. He actually liked jerking guys off through their fly, but he predicted that making Vinnie drop his pants would provoke a reaction.
Sure enough, Vinnie scoffed and sucked on his lip. “Alright, boy, goddamn, you need good access, huh? You scared? I bet, donchu worry, I ain’t no kinda, y’know… I can drop my pants, you don’t even know.” He let his jeans, heavy with grease and sweat, plop to the ground. He wore dingy grayish boxers, which he dropped as well.
He had a big dick, that was true. It was not a foot long, Avery could tell that for sure. It was maybe ten inches — still big enough to brag about, but he had clearly been exaggerating. If he lost enough weight to have a six-pack though, Avery thought it might have looked more like a foot long, that always made cocks look bigger.
Avery teased him first by planting his lips on the tip. Vinnie shuddered, but tried to play it off as though it was deliberate. “Woo-hoo, alright, there ya go, yeah. You got it, baby, you got it.” He kissed the air.
He tasted like pizza-grease. Avery loved it. He didn’t eat stuff like pizza anymore — he tried to limit his carbs, though he wasn’t quite on a low-carb diet (he couldn’t handle a true low-carb diet). It was nice to taste a disgustingly delicious pizza once again.
Avery lowered his head quickly, wanting to surprise Vinnie, who shuddered again and clucked his teeth. Avery let that thick shaft fill his throat, and Vinnie gingerly touched his hair.
“Hmmm, yeah, boy, get that shit wet,” Vinnie said, loud enough that Robert could hear on the other side of the wall. He was obviously performing for Robert’s benefit, Avery thought — his dick was only now getting hard and he was already moaning like he was about to blow his nut. “Man, you don’t even know, Robert, you squeamish pansy! Scared to get ya dick wet, boy, swear to God! Feels just like a fine-ass female!”
He finally shut up when his dick did twitch and firm up. A wavery moan escaped from his lips — that sounded a lot more genuine. He grunted and his hands finally gripped Avery’s head. Up until now he’d just been touching his scalp gingerly, like he wanted to feel he was fucking Avery’s throat, but couldn’t bring himself to actually do so.
He held onto Avery’s head and pistoned his hips. A surprised groan escaped and his balls swayed in front of Avery’s chin. His dick was rock-hard now.
Avery let a big clump of spit spill out from his mouth, coating Vinnie’s shaft. It ran down into his unkempt pubic bush. His veiny shaft throbbed, and Vinnie’s voice broke — he covered that up by coughing and grumbling. “Uh, yeah, alright then, you gettin’ deep on there!” His knees went weak as a burst of precum hit Avery’s tongue. Vinnie’s voice swooned. “Like a champion, man, shit…”
Robert could be heard laughing — it was obvious that Vinnie was surprised and nervous by how good this felt. Precum flowed down Avery’s throat, the salty and sweet taste making him want to deep-throat forever. His lungs cried out for oxygen, and he pulled off despite Vinnie gripping his head tightly.
Vinnie gasped. “Goddamn, man, shit,” he sucked in his breath. His muscles all quivered as Avery’s hands snuck up under his shirt. Vinnie lifted it up, baring his chest, and took his shirt off. Sweat glistened on his broad chest.
“Are you ready to fuck? Can you handle that?”
“‘Course I can, swear to God, boy! You think I might say no, boy, no way. You best turn around and bend the fuck over, swear to God, I’ll smack the punk off ya face!” He chuckled, then stopped. “I mean, I’m just sayin’, y’know, if you wanna get cornholed-“
“It’s fine, just fuck me.” Avery was too horny to think. His ass tingled, demanding action. He ripped the fly on his jeans in his haste to get them down, and he bent over. He had to stick his upper body on one of the supply closet shelves, so his head was surrounded by trash bags and oregano shakers.
“Okay, man.” Avery took a deep breath and slid his dick between Vinnie’s cheeks. He shivered. “You hear that, man? He beggin’ me for it! He need it, swear to God! Ain’t nobody want you, ya skinny prettyboy blockhead!” He smacked on the wall again.
“He chose me first, Vinnie, you were his consolation prize! Remember?” Robert’s voice came through the wall.
Vinnie paused. Then he scoffed loudly. “That’s cuz he ain’t see me on account of I wuz in the back. Swear to God, man.” He paused and grunted. “Swear to God, he tellin’ me I got a better body than you-“
“He ain’t say that-“
“Swear to God, motherfucker!”
“Lemme hear him say it!”
“His mouth is full, bitch! Just go home, Robert! This is man stuff, okay? Real-man shit goin’ on in here!”
“Yeah, I know, it’s man-stuff, yeah. Have fun with your pervy shit, Vinnie., that’s the ultimate in man-stuff. I’ll tell your sister that’s one less cock for her to suck. Don’t forget to lock up.”
The front door could be heard opening and closing, bell jingling. Vinnie growled like he wanted to shout another insult, but Robert was already gone. Vinnie was slow because he slipped his dick in deeper and deeper.
Intense pressure hit Avery’s ass, making Avery grunt and bite his lip. The pain was potent, and the pleasure distant, at first, but with every thrust of Vinnie’s awkward dick, it felt better and better. His barrel-shaped belly slapped against Avery’s asscheeks.
“Shit, man…” Vinnie had been distracted until now, and Avery could sense the increase in his awkwardity now that he was talking to Robert through the door. With no one to impress, Vinnie’s bravado diminished somewhat. “Hey, lemme get in there, shit, shit, okay, swear to God… shit…”
Slowly the agony in his ass became a mind-melting pleasure. Avery jacked himself off. He raised his head until it bumped into the shelf above him, and he had to lift his head out of the shelving area. That placed himself right in front of Vinnie’s now-bare chest.
It was hairy and broad, fleshy, meaty, muscles flexing over and over as he nervously plowed into Avery’s ass. Avery loved feeling his men’s body behind him, so he jutted backwards until Vinnie had no choice but to wrap his arms around Avery to pound him hard.
“Stay like that, boy, goddamn, here I go, shit!” Vinnie jammed his dick in harder and harder, his inhibitions slowly melting away now that he saw Avery wasn’t going to make him stop. He could understand now why all the older New Yawkers he had grown up with always talked about male ass as though it was as good as female — aside from the lack of tits to grab onto, he thought, it was fine.
“Hmm, fuck me, Vinnie, I wanna get cornholed by a real macho from New York City,” Avery said, his voice breaking. He crooned and turned to rub his face against Vinnie’s broad shoulders.
Vinnie groaned into his ear. “You playin’, boy, I know that. I from New Yawk, baby, not no New Yawk City. Now shut ya face and beg me to ramrod you.”
“Ramrod me, baby, I wanna feel your nut inside me,” Avery said. He puckered his lips and kissed Vinnie on the cheek the best he could like this. He managed to kiss him a little bit on the lips too, and Vinnie didn’t seem to notice or care.
At last they both orgasmed. Avery felt like his entire lower half had turned to liquid, and he wasn’t even aware of his hand jacking himself off until a powerful orgasm erupted within him. It sprayed over those trash bags and the shelf in front of his crotch, while Vinnie let out a long, rumbling roar right into Avery’s ear.
He grunted, and his voice broke. This time, without Robert to make fun of him, Vinnie didn’t bother to cover it up with a cough. He moaned again and again, cooing, his breath condensing on Avery’s cheek. He even kissed Avery back — chastely, no tongue — until he realized what he was doing. In the dark, Vinnie thought, it was easy to forget he wasn’t fucking a woman.
Cum coated Avery’s insides, great creamy gobs of it, every drop stimulating his prostate with a wave of pleasure. He cried out loud and rattled the shelves he still gripped for support. One of the oregano shakers toppled onto the floor, and the smell of oregano bloomed in the air, overpowering the cottony cum-scent that was exploding in Avery’s nose.
“Shit, man, take it, damn… Swear to God…” Vinnie moaned. He shuddered again, his hefty body rubbing against Avery’s back.
“Hmmm… You have a nice dick,” Avery said, his voice a faint tingle since he still had that massive cock stretching his ass and making it hard to concentrate. “Thanks for that.”
“That’s how we do, y’know, you wanna feel some dick, I got plenty,” Vinnie said as he watched his dick slide out. He clucked his tongue. “Swear to God, I ain’t some squeamish fuck. Men get they dick wet. Yeah, hell, yeah, boy, swear to God. Men get they dick wet.”
They both shivered in post-orgasmic bliss when his cock finally plopped out. Cum dripped down Avery’s thigh, but he cleaned himself off with some napkins. Vinnie did the same.
“You got that money, right? You best pay up! I’ll wreck ya if you try to stiff me, ain’t playin’, I’ll wreck the fuck right outta ya!” He punched his own palm, which he no doubt thought was intimidating, but with his pants around his ankles and his voice post-orgasmically warbling, it didn’t come across as intimidating.
Avery giggled. He pulled the money out of his pocket, and placed it in Vinnie’s pants as he pulled them up. He slid his hand all the way in his pocket, giving Vinnie’s cock one last stroke through his pocket. In the same moment, he kissed Vinnie on the lips.
Vinnie just grunted. “Alright, fine. Hey, man, hey man… Since my sister ain’t come, can I get a ride home?”
“Sure,” Avery said. “Can I play with your dick on the way home?”
Vinnie clucked his tongue. “Yeah, fine, whatevuh.” He opened the door and walked out. His pants were up, but he hadn’t taken his short down, so his broad chest muscles, glistening with sweat, were bare. Avery touched one nipple and giggled. Vinnie stopped. “I mean, you best pay, motherfucker. If you wanna play wit’ it… you know-“
“Hmm… We’ll talk,” Avery said. He didn’t intend to pay anymore, not unless he got to at least give a handjob. But that depended on how long the ride would be — if it was long enough for Vinnie to get hard again and cum on the way home, that would be worth a few bucks.
Avery didn’t normally mess around with the same guy twice, but Avery thought he might make an exception for Vinnie. “You’ll have to tell me more about New York City,” Avery said with a giggle.
“Shit, lemme tell you, ain’t no one say that back in New Yawk, swear to God, baby. Back in New Yawk, e’ry motherfucker get his dick wet, fo’ real, ain’t none of that squeamish crap. So yeah, you wanna play wit’, boy, I ain’t tryin’ to stand in ya way. You need some real dick, huh? Ain’t want that prettyboy Robert, right?”
“That’s right,” Avery said.
He wondered if he could find Vinnie’s old neighborhood in Queens. That sounded like a fun place to try next.

The Burglar

Desmond is helping out a white burglar when he gets roped into robbing a house, which goes in a direction Desmond never expected! That’s cuz he’s not as charmed by the manipulative Josh Winters as he seems, and when push comes to shove, he demands a taste of Josh’s alpha male meat. Can Josh give it up?

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Desmond was glad he had gone through with the plan, but at the same time, he still wasn’t sure if it was going to work. There were a couple ways it could go wrong, ranging from disappointing to catastrophic. There were not a lot of ways for it to go right.
It was a cool December night in Sacramento, and Desmond was robbing a house. Desmond hadn’t come up with the plan, that was Josh. Desmond didn’t really want or need to rob any house.
He was here because he was desperate for Josh’s dick.
Josh Winters was a tall, ropy-muscled young man with a scruffy beard and a troublesome limp, supposedly from the time he “got shot running from the po-po”. He had variously told Desmond he was a Puerto Rican Boricua, a “mostly full-blooded” Arapaho Indian and a Sicilian mafioso’s son. Oh, and once, he said he was the former star of the Ecuadorian national soccer team. He was swarthy, seemingly white but not conclusively so, with a big mess of black hair and an unshaved chin, giving him a scraggly goattee like a pot-smoking goat.
Or possibly something stronger than pot. Josh said he didn’t do hard drugs, but Desmond was dubious.
The one thing Desmond knew for sure was that he shouldn’t trust anything Josh said. It had been clear that he didn’t even keep track of his lies, he kept changing his story because Desmond never called him on it and Josh never remembered that he had already lied about his race (which Desmond suspected was ‘plain-old somewhat-swarthy white-guy’).
So Desmond didn’t believe it when Josh had said that tonight was not about robbing houses. He said, “Don’t worry, dude, we’re not gonna rob no houses on Christmas Eve. I ain’t like that.”
Desmond just shrugged went along with it. He didn’t care, he felt bad about becoming a home-robber (or at least an accessory to home-robbing). But he would have agreed to anything because he was entranced by Josh’s deep, soulful brown eyes and that marvelous head of hair. It was dense and black and unkempt, shaggy, haphazardly cut and just the right amount of greasy. Desmond wanted to run his fingers through Josh’s hair.
Besides that, Desmond didn’t plan on actually stealing anything.
And so that was why Desmond was going along with it regardless of his qualms. He had been craving a taste of Josh’s meat since the moment they met.
The homeowner was in Michigan for Christmas anyway, so it was safe, or safe enough for Desmond.
“C’mon, man,” Josh said. He tousled Desmond’s hair and grinned. “Boost me up.” He definitely knew Desmond had feelings on him and was using it to manipulate him, Desmond thought, which felt creepy but also triumphant because Desmond was flipping that knowledge right back around to manipulate Josh. Desmond was gonna get a taste of that man’s dick and he was gonna avoid doing anything morally venal.
Or at least, that was the plan. But a lot could go wrong with it.
They were on the deck behind the house. The railing was high enough that, when Desmond climbed on top of it and then Josh climbed atop his shoulders, he could reach the roof. Desmond wouldn’t have agreed, but Josh had such a charming grin, and anyway, Desmond liked the idea of Josh pawing all over him as he climbed onto the roof.
Josh seemed to be taking every opportunity to touch Desmond — that was a serious attempt to manipulate him into helping tonight. It was working too. Desmond could see how Josh had gained that reputation: He had manipulated several young men into being accessories to serious crimes and then gave them up to get out of trouble himself.
So Desmond knew he was playing with fire.
“Are you gonna be able to get up there?” Desmond asked. The railing was narrow and tottery. It really felt impossible. Josh seemed to know what he was doing, but now Desmond was unsure. This could be dangerous.
Josh scoffed. “Man, you know, they used to call me Leopard, in my old ‘hood. Cuz I was such a climber and shit, y’know, I bet I could shimmy up that chimney. I’m just doin’ this cuz it’s easier.”
“Oh, wow…” Desmond hoped he sounded gullible enough. He very much doubted that Josh could shimmy up the chimney, and he doubted anyone ever called him Leopard. That was the kind of nickname people make up about themselves but don’t accept about others. Nobody should like their nicknames.
But Desmond didn’t mind the lies if it got him what he wanted: Josh’s toned twenty year-old thug body. Josh straightened the backwards baseball cap he wore as he climbed onto the railing and, nervously, onto Desmond’s hands, then up to his shoulders.
Desmond was just about to tell him to stop, that this wasn’t working, when Josh got the edge of the gutter and scampered up. It was graceless and he nearly fell a few times. It was obvious he had never done it before. But when he got up there he scoffed. “Told ya, man. Like a leopard.” He extended one hand and pulled Desmond up onto the roof too.
It was cold up here, and windy. Desmond walked with him to the chimney. Josh’s ass filled out his low-hanging jeans nicely, and Desmond found it difficult to tear his eyes away from those perky round cheeks.
“Man, I swear, I once forgot to check the chimney befo’ I climbed in, and yo, you best believe I got stuck in there. Thought I was gonna die for sure, man, fo’ real,” he said. “So I learned you gotta check it first.” He tossed a pebble into the chimney and grinned when it audibly landed all the way on the floor. “Alright, see, this is a good chimney. Let’s get in there, man.”
Desmond wasn’t claustrophobic, but even he found the idea of going in through a chimney a bit scary. He thought for sure Josh would back out and agree to just break a window (why not? This house was isolated enough the neighbors wouldn’t hear, but Josh insisted on the chimney). Luckily Josh went in first.
He slipped in feet first and landed with a loud oomph. He toppled forward out of the fireplace. Clouds of ash flew everywhere and coated the living room.
“Come on, man, jump on down,” Josh called out to him amid his loud coughing. The coughs turned into aggressive hacks, which was way too loud. It would have been quieter to shatter a window, Desmond thought. Going in through the chimney was a dumbass plan.
Desmond took a deep breath and did it. He had been expecting tons of time to feel claustrophobic, but of course it actually only took a fraction of a second to fall. The only difficult part was the cloud of ash that coated his face, lungs and eyes. He coughed violently for several minutes before recovering.
By then, Josh was already ransacking the house, running through the living room and kitchen, opening cabinets and doors in search of valuables. He cursed as he did. “Man, there ain’t shit here. Get to lootin’, man, while the lootin’ is good!”
Desmond already knew that there were no worthwhile things here to steal. All the valuables were gone from this house. Josh collected a few dishes he thought looked fancy — they weren’t, he just assumed any dish was probably worth money if it wasn’t made of plastic or paper and didn’t have any logos or fictional characters on it. He found some ordinary ceramic plates with blue flowers on the rim and a gravy boat with French words on it (French, he thought, was classy, so anything with French on it was probably worth something).
Now that he was in, Desmond was less nervous. He could still get caught, of course, but he had gotten through the hardest part. He watched Josh run around the house, cursing at the lack of pawn-able goods. “Man, fuck this place! They ain’t even got a nice TV! No X-Box!”
“How’s the upstairs?” Desmond asked, following slowly after him.
Josh sucked on his teeth, hurrying away from Desmond but calling out to him the whole time. “This place is fucked, dude. They must-a took everything with ’em, man, that sucks! I ain’t found shit!”
“Oh, that’s too bad…” Desmond said. He found Josh throwing clothes out of the dresser in the master bedroom. He had a bottle of loose change in his arms — maybe fifteen dollars worth — that he had found in the closet. He was hoping to find more hidden in the dresser drawers.
“That pisses me off!” Josh shouted. His face grew ruddy, and Desmond got nervous. Had he miscalculated? Josh punched the wall hard enough to make a hole, and he dropped the jar of change. It shattered, coins flying across the carpet. “I oughta fuckin’ slit their goddamn throats!”
Well damn, Desmond thought, that was an escalation.
“Hey, I found something good downstairs,” Desmond said, chewing on his lip as he came closer to Josh Winters. He decided to move his plan forward. He dropped to his knees and scooted to kneel right in front of Josh.
“What? What was it? Lemme see, I’ll tell you if it’s worth anything,” Josh said. He frowned in confusion at Desmond kneeling in front of him. “I got that ‘ppraising shit down. You know that? ‘ppraising?” It was apparent Josh had just learned the word appraising, thought it was obscure and didn’t quite know how to pronounce it.
Now that he was closer, Desmond grinned up at Josh. “I’ll show you what I found downstairs if you let me do something.”
Josh looked at him warily. “Like what?”
“Let me taste your dick,” Desmond said. “Let me jack you off.” He grabbed for the waist of Josh’s jeans.
“What, really?”
Desmond nodded. Josh shifted his weight between his feet and cleared his throat. Desmond said, “Yeah, really. I can swallow you to the root. I can swallow anything,” he said.
When Josh sighed as though this was a huge imposition, Desmond unzipped his pants and let them fall to his knees. A thick uncut cock popped out, which Josh rearranged to more completely come out of the fly of his boxers, because at first it didn’t look very long, concealed by the fabric. Then he snorted like he didn’t care about Desmond looking at his dick. He swayed his hips, making his cock slap Desmond in the cheek.
“Man, you know you gotta pay me if you wanna take a swing on my dick,” Josh said with exaggerated reluctance. It was very obvious that he was going to say yes and just wanted to negotiate a good price. He looked around as though there might be an audience.
But there was no one to impress.
“Please…” Desmond smacked his lips, and he gingerly handled Josh’s dick. It was sweaty and clammy, and it twitched in Desmond’s grip. Josh must be horny, he thought.
“I ain’t into that shit. You better offer good money.” Josh looked down at his dick in Desmond’s hand as though he didn’t get how it ended up there.
Desmond shrugged. He stood up and straightened his shirt. “Oh, well, I guess I’ll just keep that thing I found downstairs.”
“What was it?”
Desmond got up stretched his legs. He yawned. “It doesn’t matter, it’s mine and I’ll only have it for awhile, until I make it to the pawnshop tomorrow. If you’re done, let’s go.” He took a few steps as though going to leave. He walked away from Josh Winters’s, who stood there with his cock protruding, waiting to be serviced.
“Man, what is it! What’d you find? I searched the whole main floor.” He scowled, his charming face gone. He wasn’t used to people telling him no.
“Let me taste your dick.” Desmond crossed his arms over his chest.
Josh’s cock was still out, dangling between his legs, in front of his fashionably saggy jeans. His square jaw worked up and down like he was chewing on his tongue. He was just slightly scruffy, the beard hairs extending down under the fabric of his shirt. Josh scoffed and clucked his tongue. “Man… How much is it worth?”
“It’s worth precisely one session of me tasting your dick. Taxes and fees may apply.”
“No, I mean the thing you found, how much is it worth in dollars!”
“I won’t know until I make it to the pawnshop. Until then, it’s an unknowable mystery,” Desmond said. “There are several economic theories of value, Josh. For example, Karl Marx promoted the labor theory of value, in which the price of an object is determined by the labor that went into it.” Desmond smiled at Josh’s furrowed brow. “So by that measure, this item is by definition worth the amount of work you’re willing to put in for it.” He shrugged. “Or maybe it’s worth less than that, and I’ll see what theory of value they prefer at the pawnshop.”
“Man, fuck you!” Josh threw his hands in the air. His dick jiggled and swayed. “Man, you owe me! I let you in on this job!”
“This job ain’t worth jack-shit!”
Josh shuffled out of the room, scoffing, rolling his eyes, his dick still out through the fly of his boxers, but his jeans were around his ankles. He didn’t seem to notice his veiny shaft bouncing with every step he took — he had a very animated gait right now because he was upset. He punched another hole in the wall. “Fuck you!”
“You wouldn’t even have found this place if it wasn’t for me,” Desmond said. He followed Josh into the hall.
“This place ain’t worth jack-shit!” Josh said. “C’mon, you gotta give it to me. What is it?” He turned around and came closer to Desmond. He reached into Desmond’s pockets and emptied them. Desmond just giggled as though Josh was flirting with him. Josh let go. “Man…”
“I didn’t put it in my pocket because I knew you would search me to steal it. And it’s not something that fits comfortably in a pocket. Just let me taste your dick. And stick me, you gotta stick it in my ass too,” Desmond said.
“Man… That ain’t what you said before. And that’s gross. I don’t even do that in prison.”
“The price keeps going up, Josh. Inflation,” Desmond said. “So I suggest you agree now.” He casually walked towards the stairs. “I think I’m about ready to head home and hit the hay. I wanna be well-rested for my trip to the pawnshop tomorrow.”
“Man… ain’t there someone else…? I could get you Jake? He’ll let anyone swing on his dick, even this old fat lady with saggy-“
“That’s cuz Jake is fat and smells like cheese,” Desmond said. “I want you. No substitutions, unless you have access to 1980s-era Tom Cruise.” He paused. “Just so you know, I can swallow your whole cock, and I have an ass like that fat slut you hang out with wouldn’t believe.”
“She ain’t fat.”
“Well she sure as shit ain’t skinny.”
“And she ain’t a slut-“
“Josh, I know very well you’ll fuck any chick who picks up the bullshit you plop in front of them,” Desmond said. “I’m willing to pick that bullshit up myself, but I’m not going to pretend it’s a rhododendron.”
Josh’s harsh, judgmental eyes glared at Desmond. Finally he spat vituperously, “what’s a fucking rhododendron?”
“It’s a flower, Josh. There’s one in the front yard.” Desmond sunk to his knees. “You can just say yes, I know you’re going to do it.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because you lie like a dead cat, Josh, and you can just lie about this. You can tell people it didn’t happen,” Desmond said. “And as far as you’re concerned, if no one can prove it happened, it didn’t.”
Josh’s eyes twinkled. “Fine. But this thing better be worth some cash.”
“It’s not,” Desmond said. He put the cocktip in his mouth, made eye contact with Josh’s sullen face and started licking his dick. He picked it up and let the thickness of it flop onto his face, while Desmond ran his tongue up and down the shaft. He slurped the sweat of the root.
“What?”
“I don’t want to mislead you, Josh. You’ll struggle to exchange this item for cash,” Desmond said.
“Man, I swear, I’ll kick your fucking ass if there ain’t nothing,” he said. “I swear to Christ. I swear on my mama’s grave, I swear on-“
Desmond pulled the cock out of his mouth for a moment. “First of all, you can stop listing things you’ll swear on. Secondly, I know your mother. I broke a five-dollar bill for her so she could put a dollar in a stripper’s jockstrap last weekend. She knows perfectly well you’re not a gigolo, you know. You’re not as good of a liar as you think are.”
“Man… Just shut up and get back to ya business.”
“I’m pretty sure actual gigolos don’t brag to their mom about it-“
“Shut up!”
“And they don’t get their moms to pay their health insurance either-“
“I am about to knock your fucking head off, dude!”
“It’s the Christmas spirit!”
“What?” Josh flopped his hard cock over Desmond’s face, leaving a trail of precum.
“That’s the thing I found down here, that I was going to give you when we’re done,” Desmond said. “I found the Christmas spirit. It doesn’t have a monetary value.”
“Man…”
“I’m just telling you because I bet you’re going to want to finish this, right? Because you’re desperate to blow a nut? Even though you’re not going to get anything out of it but a ‘Merry Christmas’?” Desmond giggled. “That fat chick isn’t putting out, huh? Probably because you taste like a loser.” He turned around, dropped his pants and stuck his ass in the air. “Are you gonna stick it in me? Or go home and masturbate alone?”
Josh paused, then straddled Desmond’s ass. He grabbed Desmond by the back of the neck. “Man… I’m stickin’ you cuz real gangstas don’t let theyself get blue-balled.”
“The only thing you stole tonight was that jar of loose change and you broke that,” Desmond said as Josh wedged his dick between his cheeks. “Real gangstas don’t fail to steal loose change. 7-11 gives loose change away for free-“
“Fuck you!” Josh said, drilling his cock in, moving like he was on autopilot — if Desmond hadn’t pissed him off, he would have delayed, but as it was, his mostly hard dick rammed right into Desmond’s booty. As if he had been waiting for this moment, he sighed. His anger and frustration dissipated, and he sighed. His hot breath condensed on the back of Desmond’s head.
Desmond sucked in his breath as he reached behind himself to stretch his cheeks open.
From his awkwardness at penetrating, Desmond gathered that Josh had never had anal sex with a woman before, though he had definitely purported otherwise several times. He humped desperately now, slamming his still-clothed body into Desmond over and over from every angle, making Desmond wince and squirm.
Desmond didn’t mind a little pain and discomfort. It made the pleasure even better, and he didn’t mind Josh’s personality too much either — with a dimpled handsome face like that, he could forgive a lot. He got even handsomer the more frustrated he became too. That was nice. Women wouldn’t be able to look past his personality and fuck him anyway, but on the other hand, women were less perceptive of his personality and were likely to take his charm at face value. Desmond, on the other hand, didn’t have to like or be liked by the men whose bodies he worshipped. He was fine with letting a jerk ramrod him up the ass.
“You don’t have to go easy on me,” Desmond said, giggling as that made Josh roar and smack his cheeks. His cock was moving back and forth in Desmond’s ass, each stroke of it sending spasms of pleasure to rock Desmond’s body. Desmond let out a little cringing moan, unable to avoid expressing how good this felt. “Hmm, Josh…”
“I’m not goin’ easy on you, man, shut up…” Blushing, Josh redoubled his efforts to go at Desmond’s ass hard. He was desperate to assuage his own masculinity, which he felt required him to slam so hard and so good Desmond told him to slow down. But it soon became apparent that that wasn’t going to happen.
Now that he had calmed somewhat, Josh humped passionately, and he even kissed Desmond on the cheek (because he had seen a movie in which prison thugs kiss their prison wives and it seemed like a hardcore-gangsta thing to do). The feel of his closeness behind Desmond accentuated the feelings wracking Desmond’s body, as his cock stimulated Desmond’s prostate again and again.
He grunted right into Desmond’s ear. He kissed him again, this time on the lips — out of habit — and their tongues briefly interlocked before he pulled away mid-orgasm. Cum sprayed into Desmond’s ass, great creamy gobs of it that coated his insides.
“Damn…” Josh Winters’s voice broke, and he rammed with his hips hard, making his next cumwad spurt deep into Desmond’s insides. Desmond moaned as a wave of bliss flowed through him, and his hands turned into claws that dug into the carpeted hallway underneath him.
Cum dripped down his thighs and onto the floor. Desmond shot his own wad at the same time, draining his balls into a puddle beneath him while jet after jet of juice filled up his ass, his whole body tightening up as one of the most potent orgasms of his life hit him hard. Josh kept going until most of his wad had slipped out in a frothy mess that coated Desmond’s ass and slipped out on the carpet below.
“Goddamn…” Desmond said, sighing. He pulled away from Josh, who gasped when his cock finally came out. It was soaked in his jizz, which dripped down between Desmond’s legs. Desmond giggled as he was overcome with desire, while Josh simply grunted as though he barely approved of what just happened.
Josh rolled over onto the floor on his back. His dick flopped, half-hard but rapidly limpening. Josh’s face was ruddy and calm, like he was about to go to sleep. He lay sprawled out on the floor.
Desmond sat next to him for a moment and felt up his chest muscles. Josh watched like he didn’t understand why someone would want to touch him. Desmond smiled. “Sorry there wasn’t anything to steal.”
Josh shrugged. He stood up and tucked his dick away. “Whatever. I’ll find someplace new.” He paused and cleared his throat. “So, like… you can pay me two hundred dollars whenever.”
“What?”
“I kissed you and stuck it in you, you owe me-“
“That was not what we agreed to. I agreed to give you the spirit of Christmas, so here it is. Merry Christmas.”
Josh frowned. It was obvious he was used to people who were easy to manipulate. If Desmond had been this willful when they first met, he would have never spent more time with him. there was no point if he couldn’t get anything out of him. Josh sighed. He sat up, supporting himself on his elbows, and he used his shirttails to wipe his dick clean. Desmond shook his head at that. That was not an effective way to get clean. His shirt was not absorptive, and so of course it was now stained and soaked in all the santorum that had previously clung to his cockshaft.
Desmond smiled at Josh. “But you can come over and earn two hundred dollars the old-fashioned way.” He smacked Josh’s ass. “Trust me, it’ll be better than being a burglar.”

The Fat Trucker

Bart is visiting the legendary Ramwide Truck Stop when he stumbles across a thickbody trucker, who’s desperate for a little action. Bart loves big men, big-time, and he can’t wait to help out this Fat Trucker!

Read it soon as an ebook!

Bart stapled a flyer on the bulletin board in front of the truck stop diner. He tried to look like he belonged, because he didn’t — he was no trucker, and he didn’t have permission to post on this bulletin board.
But it didn’t look like anyone regulated this particular bulletin board. Somebody had written, in pen on a blank scrap of paper, in scrawling block letters: call Ricky to ram in ass, nasty, gross, fat, loves it up the butt no I don’t yes he does especially if you are black he will love it yum yum that’s what he always says. So obviously this was not a strictly monitored bulletin board. Bart hadn’t asked for permission because he thought they — whoever was in charge — would probably say no.
The flyers that Bart put up were professionally produced, so they looked out of place here. They had a picture of a pretty thick woman and a phone number in big letters. Looking for plus-size female models for a clothing line. That was what Bart did as a side-hustle, he was a fashion photographer. He was always on the lookout for thick females. He thought this truck-stop would be a fine spot to search in.
Bart himself had no interest in women of any size. He liked his men as big as the women he photographed, or even bigger. So for him, this truck-stop had an even better attraction than the women — the men.
Truck-stops were full of hefty hunky dudes, precisely the kind that Bart adored. They were mostly, but almost all were willing to mess around with tiny twinks like Bart. Now that he had done his work, hanging up the flyer, he took a look around the truck-stop to scope out his possibilities.
There was a thick-ish dude over there who was kind of hot, but not hot enough to get Bart’s motor going. A couple of skinny weirdos at a picnic table, passing a joint around. Bart wandered towards the parking lot full of semis, some of them with idling engines, others cold and silent like steel skeletons.
A few women were around. Prostitutes probably. Some might have been willing to model for Bart, but he had long ago learned that approaching them never worked out well — hence the flyer. In person, they usually thought he was a pimp, despite his small stature and flamboyant personality.
“Hey, baby, whatchoo doin’ tonight? Huh? You wanna play a game?” asked a trucker, who glanced up at Bart as he walked past. The girl in skimpy clothes, with a tattoo of Roger Rabbit on her neck, grinned and batted her tired eyes.
She was too skinny to model for Bart, he thought idly. This truck-stop was loaded with lot lizards. That was going to make it hard for him to find a man.
He saw an appropriately hefty man behind a truck, getting sucked off by a middle-aged woman. Bart tried to sneak up to check him out. The man was thick and hairy, with a powerful body but plenty of padding overtop it. His side-fat jiggled as he moaned and threw his head back. The prostitute’s head was lost in the meat of his belly.
His dick glistened with spit and precum. Bart approached, making more noise than he had intended. The trucker glanced back at him and smirked. “You wanna join in, hoss?”
“I-“
“No way, that costs extra,” the woman said. She glared at Bart. “You gotta pay — I-” She cut herself off and looked Bart up and down. “You want in? Thirty bucks.”
Bart licked his lips. He came near the trucker. “Can I play a little with you? I’m not interested in the woman.”
“The woman?” She looked up at Bart with a sneer. “How dare you-?” Then the fat truck got his dick back in her mouth, and she shot mean eyes up at Bart but didn’t try to say anything else.
He kissed the man’s thick fleshy bicep, sucking up the sweat that had collected on his hairy arms. The man shrugged and resumed plowing the prostitute’s face. She glanced up at Bart as though to ask why he would do something like this without getting paid.
But Bart just shrugged and stroked the man’s plus-sized ass. He sucked the sheen of sweat off his belly too, and fully intended to keep on going when the man moaned and grunted. He shot a thick load with an intensely cottony smell into the woman’s mouth. Bart was disappointed. He licked the man’s asscheeks, but the trucker just ignored him and pulled his pants up when he was done. He paid the woman — who grabbed more money out of the man’s wallet and glared at him as though daring him to say anything — then he just walked away.
She glanced at Bart. “You’re nasty, you sick fuck,” she said. “At least I charge money.”
Bart shrugged. “I’m sorry, I’m having trouble hearing you over the sound of your bony body clanking like a sac of rusty rebar,” he said, raising his voice as though to be heard over the sac of rebar. He walked away, leaving her to stew and look for another client.
Way too many females here to have a chance, Bart thought. He frowned to himself. Maybe he should just move on. He needed to put flyers up in more places today, he had simply hoped he’d get lucky here before going anywhere else.
He walked among the maze of parked semis, in hopes of finding a desperate enough man. He did see a chunky trucker taking a piss, but he was done before Bart got close enough to watch or join in or even see how handsome he really was. The door to the trailer behind him opened up.
“You foul-ass stinkbug! Oh shit that was nasty! You are fucking disgusting! You smell like my grandfather’s shoe!” said a girl as she climbed out of the truck. She looked very young from behind, Bart thought, but her face was tired and weary, and she had a network of tattoos visible on her bare midriff. She shouted into the truck. “You had better pay me, or I’ll send Martin after ya-!”
“What do you think Martin’ll say if he knows you turned down a man?”
“He don’t want my pussy stinking like some fat-ass sonofabitch!” She took a few steps away on wobbly legs, then stopped to put her heels back on. She tottered unsteadily. “And by the way, guys with manboobs the size of a German shepherd shouldn’t call women ‘chunky’!”
“I meant it as a compliment!” The man bellowed, but she was already gone. He glanced over at Bart. He nodded and closed the door to his truck.
Bart’s heartrate rose. There was an ideal target.
The trucker was heavy, but not really obese: he was obviously strong, with plenty of manmeat. He wore a flannel shirt with the sleeves cut off, and his pants were around his ankles revealing threadbare boxers. He was hairy and his belly jutted out marvelously, not huge like Santa, but big and round and stout. His arms were powerful and meaty, his pecs fleshy and jigglesome when he moved or spoke or did anything really. He barely fit in the doorway, and he walked like his cock was as fat as the rest of him.
Bart knocked on the door. “Excuse me, sir?”
“Eh… hang on.” The trucker’s voice sounded tremulous. He was back in the sleeper, and he fidgeted with something. He frantically moved around back there. “I… That chick was my girlfriend, you know. I wasn’t… I ain’t pay her for nothin’ illegal, suh, just so you know!”
“That’s not — I’m not a cop!” Bart called out. He sighed. He often came across as a cop in places like this. That was because he was slim and spoke properly. He didn’t really fit in. “I swear! I’m not a cop.”
The trucker opened the door. “What do you want then?”
“I just wanted to see how horny you were,” Bart said. He blushed. “My name is Bart. I’d like you to ram me.”
“What?”
“I want you to ramrod me. Stick your dick in my ass. You know about ramrodding-?”
“Yeah. It’s what black guys do to white dudes in prison,” the trucker said.
“That’s… They don’t have a patent on it. You can ramrod me, it’s not illegal.”
“Still gross.”
Bart shrugged. “If you don’t wanna do it, you don’t have to… But I’ll offer you fifty bucks.”
“You serious? I ain’t into that trip. That’s some kinda nasty,” he said. “And it ain’t in the Bible.”
“Neither’s fuckin’ prostitutes.”
“She ain’t fuck me. And she weren’t no prostitute, that was my girlfriend,” the trucker said with a knowing grin. “Name’s Dabney. Dabney Cosgrove.”
“Hi Dabney.How ’bout I up the ante. I’ll offer you a hundred dollars to ram me?” Bart said. He snuck one of his hands up Dabney’s boxer shorts. Dabney stood in the driver’s side door of his semi, so he was much higher than Bart. Bart could peer under his boxers, and see a big shadowy dark spot he assumed was the man’s low-hanging cock and balls.
He slapped Bart’s hand away. “Now I know you a cop, cuz ain’t no pinkdick punks like a big hairy ass like me. I thought limp-wrists like you was is into prettyboys with long hair and skinny butts.”
“Why don’t you let me prove I’m not a cop?”
“How?”
“Turn around, bend over and let me kiss your asshole. Would an undercover cop kiss a fat redneck’s ass?”
Dabney thought about it for a long time, then he shrugged and nodded. He checked that no one could see before turning around. He pulled down his boxers, revealing a big ass that was ruddy and inflamed from sitting so much. He spread his cheeks, which were hairier than his unshaven cheeks. The hairs on his ass were matted to his skin with sweat.
Bart had to step onto the ledge leading into the driver’s side of the semi, but Dabney was already there, leaning over and jutting his bare ass out. That made it a delicate balancing act, and Bart struggled to get up there. When he did, he dove enthusiastically in and rammed his tongue right into the sweat-silkened hole of Dabney’s rotund ass.
He only left it there for a moment. Dabney yelped and laughed. He turned around and slapped his dick over Bart’s face, and Bart was glad to see it was as big as he thought it’d be. Some kind of fat men have small cocks, cuz their bellyfat subsumes it. Others have huge cocks around which the fat doesn’t grow in the same way. Bart, of course, preferred the latter, and he found he had a sixth sense for detecting which fat men had which kind.
Dabney’s belly hit Bart’s forehead, the hair scratching at his skin, and it softly jiggled around him. Bart’s hands ran up that maginificent body to Dabney’s fatty tits, which caused the massive pectoral muscles underneath to ripple.
“That’s nasty. You just hang out in truck stops lettin’ fat dudes ram you?”
Bart blushed. “You gonna judge me or you gonna make a hundred dollars?”
“I’m gonna do both.” Dabney moved out of the way to let him in. Bart didn’t wait, so he bumped into Dabney as the much larger man worked his way into the sleeper. Bart kissed those hairy cellulite-ridden asscheeks before Dabney plopped onto his bed.
It stank in here. That was why the prostitute had left. She had been willing to put up with Dabney having a belly, and she was willing to put up with him being hairy, and she was willing to put up with him having a big knobbly dick that was going to hurt, but she wasn’t willing to put up with getting rammed in a sleeper compartment filled with the scent of Dabney’s thickish sweat. It was a very strong aroma. Bart couldn’t blame her. He didn’t feel the same way, but he wasn’t surprised the woman did.
That fruity body-odor smell billowed forth into Bart’s nostrils, and it was strong enough to bring tears to his eyes. Dabney didn’t notice it. He thought she had been exaggerating. He’d be willing to put his boots and dirty clothes outside anyway, he thought, and she didn’t even let him try that before freaking out and stalking off.
This was just as good. Dabney sometimes rammed with the filthy whores who filled certain truck-stops. They were good for a lay, and they didn’t help the smell situation in the sleeper of his truck. Sometimes he rented a motel room to really go to town on a woman — and take a private shower — but that got expensive, and Dabney would rather sleep in his truck’s sleeper.
Bart was smooth and lean, yet he had a fantastically plump ass. He smelled so clean, so unlike any of the whores Dabney visited. Bart’s skin was pale as Dabney’s mother’s fine china, which she never used in case a celebrity came for supper, and he was unblemished from head to toe. Dabney was all blemishes. He got dry skin, too much hair and tufts of ingrown hair that got infected, bacne, something called folliculitis sometimes, Dabney had awful skin. Most of that wasn’t obvious cuz his body hair covered it up.
Dabney pulled his boxers down and let his dick flop out. It was soft, but had just a trace of hardness from the girl he had brought in here for a few minutes. She got him hard before storming away, and then Bart’s quickie rimjob had gotten his dick twitching once more.
So he was already fleshy and firming up when his dick slipped into Bart’s mouth, caressed by his soft lips. At first Dabney didn’t know how to take it — it was just like a woman’s mouth, and he even made little sucking sounds that came across as feminine somehow.
“Oh god… Shit, boy, get deep on it, get real deep on it… You like it nasty, huh?” Dabney said. He gripped Bart’s ears because he had always wanted to do that when getting a blowjob — no girl had ever let him — and he pulled on them to drag Bart’s head up and down. He was exhilarated at finally being able to do that.
Bart looked up to make eye contact with him. The smell of his body odor was intense down here. He had obviously not showered in some time. There was a truck-stop shower right here, but Dabney didn’t use those.
His dick quickly grew as hard as steel in Bart’s mouth. It was big enough to be a challenge to swallow, but it was a challenge Bart adored. He didn’t mind choking on it. He even forced himself to choke and gag as much as he could because that made Dabney moan.
Soon Dabney’s whole body jiggled, his belly rubbing over Bart’s face. That left a sheen of sweat that covered him, and it made that glorious smell stick to his nostrils. The sweat on Dabney’s bellyfat was sticky like spilled juice, and it coated Bart’s skin. He thought the smell would never go away, and he hoped he was right. Bart couldn’t help but pull off Dabney’s dick and went to lick and suck that belly. His tongue snaked into the fold of flesh right over his ribs, inside of which was funky unwashed skin that tasted of unadulterated manhood.
“C’mon, man, get me off,” Dabney whined. “Put ya lips back on it, that felt good. You go deep, damn!” His deep voice was resonant in the tiny sleeper. He kept pulled on Bart’s ears, but he didn’t force Bart to go back to his cock. He just kept trying. “C’mon, man, swallow it, swallow it, swallow it deep. You was so good at that. I wanna get back in ya throat.”
“Hmmm…. Lemme just suck on your titties some, and then I’ll play with your dick,” Bart said. He sucked on each of Dabney’s nipples. Dabney sighed and leaned back, allowing it even as he rolled his eyes and growled in frustration. “Your dick is so big… I wanna joust a little, okay?” He sat in front of Dabney on the mattress, looking tiny in comparison to Dabney’s cavernous belly. He could barely reach Dabney’s nipples, which he sucked on as he thwacked his cock against Dabney’s.
Dabney tried not to be self-conscious. He tried to ignore the fact that it was a dick itself — an actual man’s cock — on him. It was hot and hard. Was his dick that hard? Dabney thought it wasn’t, that his dick was always soft and jiggly in comparison to Bart’s iron-like cock.
But when he touched them both directly, he realized that wasn’t true. It was just weird to handle someone else’s cock, especially someone so skinny and small. Dabney grinned at the sight of his much larger dick pressing against Bart’s, which was nothing to be shameful of. Dabney’s dick approached ten inches though, while Bart’s was a relatively meager seven.
“I’m gonna put my ass on it now, okay?” Bart said, giggling at the sight of Dabney’s shocked look and plump chins jiggling. Bart stood the best he could, crouching to fit and struggling to move on the soft mattress. He turned around, baring his pale ass.
Dabney kissed each asscheek. He did it entirely by instinct, and it took him by shock. That wasn’t something he ever did before.
The feeling of Dabney’s lips on Bart’s smooth booty made Bart giggle and squeal as he lowered his ass towards Dabney’s crotch. Dabney was more aroused than ever. He had never kissed a woman’s asscheeks because he had never been with a woman who had such pert and perky, plump, perfectly poundable asscheeks: smooth, unblemished, hairless. Dabney slathered each cheek in kisses until his spit dripped down Bart’s thighs.
Then Bart sat on his crotch. He had to push on Dabney’s belly to get it out of the way, layers of flab weighing heavily upon him. He kneeled, facing Dabney despite the awkwardity of it. In this position, Bart had to spread his legs wide so he could take in the massiveness of Dabney’s torso. Bart hugged him close, so he could rub his whole body on Dabney’s thickness.
The other nice part about this position was that Bart could see the shocked and maybe frightened look on Dabney’s face.
“Goddamn, man, you’re really — shit, you wanna get rammed somethin’ serious, huh? Gonna get in ya guts, lemme in there,” Dabney said, a sheepish grin on his face.
Then he bit his lip and howled. Just the tip of his dick slipped in, and already it felt so good Dabney thought he might blow his wad. He chuffled back and forth, hands flailing and slapping Bart’s ass because he liked how it jiggled.
A sharp burst of pressure hit Bart, who winced and slowed down. That caused Dabney to grip his ass and massage it. He obviously wanted to pull Bart all the way onto that dick, to impale him completely, but Bart couldn’t take that just yet. He grimaced as he adjusted, leaning on that big plump belly for support.
“Will you ram… Oh god… Be on top…? ” Bart couldn’t speak because of the pressure in his ass. It hurt so good, and it made his voice waver and shake. Every moment it was inside him sent a new wave of sensations through Bart’s body, and each time Dabney pumped his hips, his cock jostled inside Bart and stimulated his prostate, while the motion made Dabney’s magnificent bellyfat shake like jello in an earthquake. Bart moaned and sucked up the sweat clinging to Dabney’s body.
He normally liked riding men on top, but with Dabney, he wanted to be below. He dropped low on Dabney’s cock, while Dabney arduously lifted his head. That kept Bart on his dick, mostly concealed by that roundish belly, and Dabney could pound away without having to look at Bart or be reminded he was not fucking a woman right now..
His bellyfat weighed Bart down, so Bart could barely breathe. He squirmed, his arms and legs flailing, toes curling, fingers tightening into claws that dug at the sleeper-compartment mattress. His ass was wet from his own arousal and from the rivers of precum that Dabney’s dick filled him up with.
Soon Dabney was plowing hard, with abandon, without thought for Bart’s comfort. Dabney had been craving that so hard he didn’t even know it. He’d only managed to get anal one time, and that had been a desultory affair.
This was the hottest thing he’d ever done. It was disgusting, filthy rutting, the way it was supposed to be. Dabney could ram hard like his bottom was just an object, a tight hole with a body attached to it, and no matter how hard Dabney rammed, no matter how much his greasy body slid and slipped over Bart’s formerly clean back, still Bart begged for more.
“Oh god, your dick is so nasty, ram me! Ram it in me! Ram it all the way in me!” Bart called out the best he could despite his inability to take a deep breath.
His prostate thrummed and sent a tsunami of pleasure to crash through him. Bart squealed like a piggie, making Dabney laugh even as the most intense orgasm of his life crashed into him.
Cum sprayed all over. It seemed to be everywhere in the sleeper-compartment. Dabney didn’t even know how that was possible, because he remained deep in Bart’s ass, exploring his innards with his cock, grinding into his guts as he spurted forth wad after creamy wad of cum.
It flowed into Bart, trickling through him. More fluids flew — Bart’s own cum, which Dabney had forgotten about — and spit from both men, because they drooled and Dabney spat instinctively onto the floor of his sleeper. He grunted and spit onto Bart’s ass too, adding more lubrication for his ramming, jamming and slamming.
He couldn’t even tell if his dick was still hard or not. He thought it was, but then when he pulled out and slipped back onto his pillow, leaning against the sleeper wall, his limp dick flopped against his thigh. It glistened with santorum, and Dabney grimaced at the sight of Bart’s gaping asshole.
He slipped one finger in. The sensation was creamy and thick, and Dabney wrinkled his nose. Dabney had never fingered anyone’s ass, but he couldn’t resist it. He rammed his finger in and out, pulling all of the cum out and smearing it over Bart’s asscheeks.
“Goddamn…” Dabney said. “You are one nasty slut.”
Bart turned around and laid his head in Dabney’s lap, letting that hairy belly flop over his face. “Same to you.”
“Don’t you forget to pay me,” Dabney said with a threatening growl.
Bart struggled to reach his pants, then finally got his wallet out. He handed over the cash.
“You come to this truck-stop a lot?”
“No,” Bart said, “Sorry, baby.” He kissed Dabney’s belly and sucked up some of the grease that had collected there. Then Bart sighed and leaned back. He cleaned off his ass, put his clothes back on and smiled at Dabney. “I don’t usually come to the same place twice. There’s always guys around though. You should give one a try.”
“I like girls.”
“Well, then do that first,” Bart said. He climbed out of the semi. “But if you get rejected again, remember you have… other options.” He smiled and waved as Dabney shut the door. The stink and humid heat from the sleeper visibly wafted out from the truck door.
Bart whistled and walked away. He had enjoyed this truck-stop mightily, and he was already planning on which one to go to next, for another curvy, raunchy trucker-stud.

The Couchsurfer

Rob lets a studly young alpha sleep on his couch, as long as Rob gets to swing on his big black meat. Can Rob handle his tenant’s huge throbbing rent payment?

Read it now as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Rob Winthrop wanted to let Lamar sleep in, but it was tough to resist touching him. Lamar’s eighteen-year-old body gleamed, sprawled out on the couch he barely fit on. It was a big couch, but Lamar was tall, with limbs like catapaults. He was sound asleep. He hadn’t even been home that long, Lamar only returned from his friend’s party a few hours before sunrise.
He wore only boxers, and the sheet he had covered himself with had fallen onto the floor. Rob could catch a few tantalizing glimpses of his dick through the fly, through which a couple stray pubic hairs were visible.
Rob gently tweaked Lamar’s nipple to see if he would wake up. But he didn’t. He was passed-out cold. He pulled Lamar’s soft dick out from within the boxers he had passed out in. Even limp as cooked spaghetti, it was almost a foot long and meaty, even heavier than it looked. Rob thwacked it against his palm.
Still, Lamar didn’t wake up.
Lamar was just eighteen years old. He had come to Rob last month to say that he heard Rob paid money to jack off black guys with big dicks, in hopes of it making Rob’s dick bigger. Rob had explained that that wasn’t exactly true. Rob did appreciate men with superb physiques, but he was not especially into black men and did not believe doing it would make his own dick bigger. But Lamar didn’t believe him. He kept referring to Rob as a lover of big black cock.
Regardless, Rob had given him money then so he could get a tattoo.
That was the words THUG LIFE tattooed on Lamar’s bicep, in short block letters that ran all the way around his arm. While Lamar remained unconscious, Rob slurped some of his drunk-night-sweat off that tattooed bicep. Fully erect, his dick was more than a foot long and so thick Rob couldn’t circle his fingers around the whole shaft. As Lamar stayed unconscious, Rob grew bolder about groping his muscular body.
Then Lamar finally stirred and smiled like a cocky bastard after Rob rammed his fingers into Lamar’s pants and started stroking. His cock was sweaty and soft — spongy-soft, like he had fucked until he couldn’t anymore. That was probably exactly what happened at that party Lamar went to.
“Pretty big, huh?” Lamar asked with a groggy groan and chuckle. Now that he was awoke, his dick twitched in Rob’s grasp.
“Yeah.”
“You like this nigga dick, huh? Well you don’t get to swallow it, not for a li’l tat,” Lamar said. He kept telling Rob that over and over as Rob jacked him off — even though Rob hadn’t tried to put it in his mouth. “You want it so bad, I can tell. You got nigga-lover written on yo’ forehead, honky. You feel me? Huh? You feel my meat throbbin’ in yo’ fingers. That’s happenin’ fo’ you. That’s my present to you, man. Ain’t no way you get to swallow it though, nuh-uh.”
Then he gasped and shot his load in his pants. It coated Rob’s hand and trickled down his wrist. He wanted to lick it off, but Lamar stopped him.
“Nah. Go wipe yo’ hand, whiteman,” he said. He licked his lips and moaned. “I ain’t lettin’ you taste my nut. That’s nasty. Girls only.” He stood there and watched, thick trunk-like cockshaft swaying between his legs, as Rob looked forlornly at the tasty cum all over his hand but wiped it off with a paper towel. Lamar left then, climbing into some white girl’s car just seconds after tucking his dick back into his pants.
Rob had watched his ass through the shorts that were visible above his sagging jeans. Rob wanted more than anything to taste his dick and feel it inside him, but Lamar had said no. That was before he showed up on Rob’s doorstep a few days ago. He said he was running from the po-po, though he later also mentioned a fight with his stepdad. “You can swing on my dick,” Lamar said with a crude sneer. “But I ain’t touchin’ you. No way.”
“Okay,” Rob said with a shrug. He knew he could get something more when Lamar was drunk enough.
Now he wondered if it was time to get a taste of Lamar’s cock. He had let Lamar move in and sleep here for two days, and all Rob had gotten out of it was the sight of Lamar’s tight body and a few handjobs.
Anyway, Lamar went out clubbing with that white girl or maybe different white girls, then came home at dawn once more. Rob had already given Lamar money, enough that he could easily buy himself beer and pay the cover charge to get into some bar. Lamar had used up all the money though, paying for not just his beer but also his friends’s and of course fruity cocktails for girls with juicy asses.
When Lamar had returned to the house early yet again, with the sun peeking over the horizon, he had staggered in drunkenly. He’d plopped onto the couch and slept awhile before getting up to vomit. Then he managed to brush his teeth and drink a glass of water before returning to the couch.
And now here was Rob yet again, trying to stimulate his unconscious couchsurfing roommate to erection. He’d said it was fine if Lamar went out partying every night, but he didn’t think Lamar would actually find a party “fulla mad bitches” every single night.
At least tonight, Lamar’s cock had slipped out from the fly of his boxers, which made it easy for Rob to stroke it. It was like a dead snake in his hand, a long tube of dark muscle that was firm even in its soft state. Rob licked his lips as he flopped it between his fingers.
Lamar was still passed out cold. When it was clear he wouldn’t wake up, Rob bent over and licked Lamar’s cock from the root to the tip, which he then put in his mouth. He again looked up. Lamar didn’t awake, but he did move his head to the side.
That gave Rob an idea. He got his own dick out. His heart pounding, Rob put it on Lamar’s lips. Rob’s cocktip throbbed on Lamar’s mouth.
His handsome brown face was still calm and asleep, and the coarse hairs of his unshaved cheeks and chin rubbed against Rob’s shaft. Lamar wrinkled his nose in his sleep. Rob flopped his rapidly firming dick around on Lamar’s face, and he attempted at Lamar’s mouth but didn’t force it in, lest the sensation wake him up.
Lamar stirred. He moaned and wiggled his ass, but he didn’t wake up the rest of the way. He murmured and grumbled. Rob sensed him waking and took his dick away, just before Lamar let out a little gag.
Holding his breath, Rob waited to see if Lamar realized why he had gagged. He was definitely waking up now. But Lamar must have figured it was lingering drunkenness.
Rob leaned in and inhaled deeply of Lamar’s musk. He inserted his nose the best he could between Lamar’s tricep and his chest, and he sniffed the musk of his armpit. It was an intoxicating, heady aroma that made Rob moan.
He licked the tight muscle of Lamar’s pecs. They were not huge — he was no bodybuilder — but they were like taut balls of rock-hard flesh beneath soft skin, brimming with power and body heat. Rob lapped at the soft flesh, which rippled beneath his touch.
“Aw, damn, baby…” Lamar murmured. His eyes gradually blinked open. He kept wiggling, and his breathing hurried up as Rob caressed his shaft.
His dick twitched beneath Rob’s fingers. Rob gave it a stroke, and it started to get hard.
“Oh. Oh, damn,” Lamar murmured. He had obviously forgotten where he was and thought it was a woman on his dick until he opened his eyes fully. Now he was full of nervous gasps and sucking in his breath. He swayed as though the couch under him moved, too dizzy from drunken surprise to react. “Ew, nasty, man, shit…”
Rob’s tongue traveled down Lamar’s taut stomach. Now that he was awake, Lamar giggled like he was ticklish but trying to hide it the entire time Rob licked at his flesh. His muscles writhed beneath Rob’s tongue. Letting out a moist gurgling sound, Lamar wrapped his fingers around Rob’s head and pushed him towards Lamar’s crotch, but then Lamar let go — feeling Rob’s short haircut reminded Lamar he wasn’t with a girl. He covered his face with one forearm, while his other hand gently guided Rob to his crotch.
After a night of drinking, Lamar’s body was covered with a sheen of dried sweat. That was perfect for Rob, who loved the taste of his flesh. It was clean, slightly soapy, yet salty from sweat and tasting just a bit of cocoa butter.
“Yo, you gunna ssshwalluh my nut?” Lamar’s voice was weak, though he tried to sound tough. He was too nervous to stop laughing though, and he could only cover that up by flexing his muscles and growling intermittently. He couldn’t stop writhing to the sensation of Rob’s tongue traveling over his body.
“Yes,” Rob said. “I am.” He kissed the tip of Lamar’s dick, which throbbed and twitched like it was begging him to swallow it. “Tell me about last night. Did you have fun?”
“Yeah,” Lamar said. His forearm was still over his eyes so he didn’t accidentally see who was on his cock. A drunken burp escaped from his mouth, and he scrunched his eyes shut even though his gaze was blocked by his forearm. Now that he was fully awake and had taken a deep breath, his throbbing erection helped bring him down from the drunken dizzies, and he could speak clearly if he concentrated on his words and not the throbbing of his cock in Rob’s mouth. “It was cool. My nigga got this bitch to give up the booty, man. We ran a train on her in the bathroom of the club. Nasty-ass bitch.”
“Oh? You fucked her there in the bathroom?” Rob pulled off Lamar’s dick just long enough to ask his question, and then he thwacked Lamar’s erection all over his face like a billyclub.
Lamar nodded like a cocky bastard and ran his tongue between his lips and his teeth. “Yeah. She was on her knees on that piss-stained floor, like a fuckin’ slut. I had sloppy seconds — or like sloppy fifths, I think, fifths in her pussy anyway — and it was all drippin’ out. Made me gag and shit.”
“Why’d you do it?” Rob asked as his tongue slathered spit over Lamar’s ribs while his hand flopped Lamar’s cock around. He part lost his erction every time Rob let it go for a few seconds, which Rob enjoyed because he liked playing with a half-hard cock. Lamar was desperately horny, that much was obvious from the way he gasped every few seconds as he talked, and his hips kept bucking like he was fucking the air. Rob stroked his dick, which was just meaty enough to feel solid as Rob thwacked it against Lamar’s flesh and his own face.
“What?”
“Why’d you do it if you had to take sloppy-fifths?”
There was a long silence. “That a trick question? It was pussy, man. She gave it up,” he said.
“Oh, I thought it sounded gross.”
“It was gross.”
“I guess I just don’t get it,” Rob asked. He spat loudly, covering Lamar’s dick with his saliva, which made Lamar groan. Rob licked all that spit up. “Did you joust with your buddies?”
“Joust? Oh, you mean, like touch dicks in her mouth and shit? Yeah, me and my nigga Killer always do that shit. He was the fourth, you know, he was the one who shot his load right before me-” He paused. “Wait, I gotta do somethin’.” He reached down for the pants he had thrown down onto the ground. He pulled out his cell phone.
“Is something wrong?”
“I gotta tell Killer somethin’, you can keep strokin’ my dick. You gonna swallow my nut or what?” He said as he dialed.
“I just like to play with it first. It’s so big,” Rob said smiling at how Lamar proudly bristled and arched his back. Rob stuck out his tongue and licked Lamar’s dick from root to tip, very slowly, slathering spit the entire way.
That made Lamar moan uncontrollably, and his cock rocketed to full erection. Killer, on the other side of the line, laughed — he must have heard the moan as soon as he answered the phone. Rob couldn’t hear Killer’s words though, just his laughter.
“Thought you should know my dick is like three shades lighter,” Lamar said. He chuckled at Killer. “Yeah, yo’ nut stained my shit, Killer! I know it was yo’s — nah, you know that nigga ain’t got — oh — Fuck dat shit, nigga!” Lamar went on, laughing and carrying on, but he and Killer talked over each other so much that Rob couldn’t follow the conversation. He gathered that Lamar and Killer had made an inside joke last night, something to do with all the cum sticking to Lamar’s cock after he had sloppy fifths and staining it until it was a lighter shade.
Rob kept on stroking it though. He wanted Lamar desperate to blow his nut.
“Yeah, nigga. Okay. Peace, one love,” Lamar said and hung up the phone. He glared at Rob and tried to sit up, but Rob chose that moment to put the tip of his cock in Rob’s mouth. He suckled on the piss-slit and slathered a huge wad of saliva that dripped down the shaft. A wave of pleasure hit Lamar, who moaned and leaned back, laying down again on the couch, the same position he had been asleep in just a few minutes ago. “Yo, honky, you just playin’ wit’ it. I’m lettin’ you swing on that shit, you best handle it proper. Don’t you blueball me.”
“I’d never do that,” Rob said. “You want me to swallow it now?”
Every fiber of Lamar’s being told him to say yes. He writhed on the couch, cock throbbing in Rob’s hand. But still, Lamar didn’t. He crossed his arms over his chest.
“If you want, I ain’t into that nasty-nasty, and I got females all over,” Lamar said, even as he gasped and writhed beneath Rob’s touch. “I, uh… I mean… I’m just doin’ this for a couch to crash on. If’n you okay wit’ just swallowin’ a nut, I ain’t tryin’-a, y’know, do nothin’ wit’ you, I ain’t swallowin’ nothin’.”
“I would never make you swallow anything,” Rob said. He kept stroking Lamar’s shaft, but he kept his rhythm slow and inconsistent so Lamar’s body cried out for a warm, wet mouth.
Lamar murmured. “You best pay me,” he said. He laughed at himself, and at Rob, as he covered his face with a pillow to avoid seeing Rob’s masculine features.
“You want money?” Rob said. “How about I let you borrow my car? Is that okay?” Rob could afford plenty of money, but he had a feeling admitting that to Lamar would end up poorly for him. So he was pretending to be poorer than he was.
“Borrow your car, like anytime?”
“As long as you live here,” Rob said. “And let me keep playing with your dick.”
“Fine, fine,” Lamar said. “Okay. Just get me off…” His voice was muffled because of the pillow over his face.
Rob put the tip back in his mouth again, and he suckled on it loudly. Lamar moaned and his back arched. He nearly leapt off the couch. Then Rob removed his mouth and giggled. “You want me to swallow or spit?”
“Swallow, swallow, man, come on, just do it,” Lamar said, his attempt to show reluctance now forgotten. He roared in frustration and bit the pillow in front of his face. His youthful muscles cringed, and his dick reached up into the air, searching instinctively for a hole to penetrate. “C’mon, man, I gotta blow my load-“
Rob mounted Lamar the best he could as he laid on the couch, so that Rob’s dick and Lamar’s met. Lamar looked away and groaned, while Rob began frotting both cocks together.
“Let’s cum together,” Rob said.
A loud sucking sound came from Lamar’s mouth. He’d jousted with his niggas before in a bitch’s mouth, but he’d never frotted before. He looked at his massive cock rubbing against Rob’s, which was smaller but not small enough that Lamar could really make fun of him for it. Lamar looked away. “C’mon, man, nah, nah-” He grunted.
“Your dick is so big…” Rob said with a smile.
“I know but — I know but — I-” Lamar didn’t want to ruin a good thing by refusing or hitting Rob, though his hand formed a fist like he might do it out of instinct. Really Lamar wouldn’t have minded frotting — it was gross, but for a place to sleep, he could live with it — as long as he could guarantee Rob wouldn’t cum on his face or go any farther than this. And Lamar wished he could sober up and eat something first.
“Sorry, sorry, can’t help it…” Rob said, his voice warbling and breaking, as he shot his load. Pleasure wracked Rob’s body, and a jet of jizz spurted out. It plopped onto Lamar’s dick and into his crotch hair, but then Rob aimed it up to his six-pack and beyond.
Lamar groaned in disgust, and cum sprayed over his powerful brown chest. It made his tattoos gleam as his muscles flexed. Pleasure shuddered through Rob’s body, making him shimmy and shake, and his cock pulsated where it rubbed on Lamar’s own dick.
“I won’t cum on your face,” Rob said, but even as he said that Rob leaned back and moaned again, and his last spray of cum got as far as Lamar’s chin.
“Ew, man, shit…” Lamar let out a nervous chuckle as he wiped his chin off. He faced away from Rob, so he didn’t get more cum on his face and didn’t have to watch his cock frot with Rob’s. “You gonna swallow my load, right?”
Rob did so without another word. He jammed his own head into Lamar’s crotch, swallowing as much of that massive shaft as he could get in his throat. Rob gagged and choked, but kept going until he had nearly every inch. He tasted Lamar’s machismo in the precum trickling down his throat, its salty flavor and creamy thickness overwhelming his senses.
“Aaaaaaaaah….” Lamar moaned like he was finally scratching an itch he had been trying to reach for a long time.
Then Lamar grabbed Rob’s head to plow down on his throat. Rob loved that, and Lamar normally did too, but as soon as he did, Lamar knew it was a bad idea. That’s because Rob had very short hair, and when Lamar touched it, he was reminded of the man on his dick.
Lamar groaned with disappointment. His dick didn’t get any softer, but it did slow down. That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, since Rob thought he could still take this farther. But for now, Rob thought, Lamar was disappointed that Rob wasn’t a girl.
“Damn, man, I can’t forget you ain’t a bitch,” Lamar said. “Hang on, lemme call this fat chick.” He dialed another number on his phone. “Yo. Hey, baby. Nah, I can’t tonight. I got, uh, y’know, a meetin’ to go to.” The plump girl on the other end was Miranda, and Lamar made sure to emphasize meeting in a way that suggested it was some sort of gang activity. Miranda was a rotund white girl who loved bad boys, so she giggled at the thought of Lamar at a gang meeting. Her voice made Lamar grunt, and another few drops of precum coated Rob’s tongue. Lamar removed the pillow from his face.
Rob moved down to slurp on Lamar’s balls. He put them both in his mouth and gargled loudly, making Lamar laugh into the phone even as he talked to his booty call.
“I know it’s early, baby. I just wanted to hear yo’ voice. I been, y’know, I been in trouble and shit,” Lamar said. His voice kept trailing off, distracted by the feelings of pleasure arising from his sensitive balls in Rob’s mouth. Lamar’s voice cracked. “Yeah, baby. I’m in jail. Uh-huh. I be out soon. My lawyer is comin’ to bail me out. Uh-huh. Can you talk me off? I’m jackin’ it right now.” He paused and laughed. “Yeah, there’s some whiteboy here cryin’. I think he okay, he just glad I ain’t gonna beat his ass.” He paused and affected a charming smile. “Yeah, I’s talkin’ ’bout you, whiteboy. If there wasn’t a phone in here, I’d be beatin’ you to shreds just to pass the time.”
As Lamar talked, showing off to his female friend, Rob continued slurping on his balls. Then he moved back up to the shaft. His tongue traced the pulsating veins all the way from root to tip.
“Yeah, you gonna give up the booty, right? Maybe I skip that meeting tonight, after I get bailed out. Maybe I come over. Uh-huh. You gonna let me tap that ass, right? No condom. Uh-huh. I wanna taste yo’ titties, girl,” he said. He groaned. “Maybe I titty-fuck you for a bit. You know I love thick-ass bitches and I am — no, wait! Baby! Baby!” He screamed into the phone, which he then threw onto the ground. “Fuck you! Fuckin’ hell!” He roared and slapped his own thighs. His dick throbbed in Rob’s mouth. “Fuck!”
Rob pulled off his dick. “What happened?”
“I called her a thick-ass bitch,” Lamar said. “I sorta forgot she was white and she gonna take that as an insult. Ain’t no insult!”
“Oh, that’s too bad, baby…” Rob thwacked Lamar’s erection against his face.
“She ain’t even listen to me explain. I was in jail, y’know, I prolly heard all kind of bad words. I just forgot to moderate myself, y’know,” he said. He groaned as he started to grind his hips, shoving his dick back into Rob’s mouth.
Rob pulled away, gently stroking Lamar’s dick even as Lamar flexed his hips, trying to get his knob wet again. Rob said, “You’re not in jail.”
“Yeah, but she thought I was!” Lamar said. He squirmed, his body overly energetic from both horniness and anger. “Ain’t fair. You can’t hang up on a nigga who call you from jail, just cuz he use some bad words. It’s fuckin’ jail!”
“Sure, sure,” Rob said. He licked Lamar’s dick from root to tip. Once again, Lamar grabbed his head and tried to force it back into position to swallow his whole shaft. Rob resisted. Lamar didn’t even seem to be aware of the fact that he was trying to force his dick into Rob’s mouth, he just kept talking about how angry he was at the girl and his cock and his hands worked on autopilot.
Rob enjoyed teasing him. Every few seconds, he’d let Lamar ram his dick down his throat. Lamar would moan and let go of Rob’s head. Then Rob would pull off and Lamar would swear some more before doing it again.
“That fuckin’ bitch, she don’t know jack shit! She think she my girlfriend, she think I just fuck other females cuz my niggas expect it. That’s what I tell her. She dumb as shit. She dumb as her own fat ass.”
“Are you gonna go back to her and apologize?”
Lamar thought for a moment. “Yeah. I prolly will. Not fo’ awhile. Give it a month or two, and I’ll go over there in the night, tell her I been in lockup and I need a woman’s touch. I be back in her asshole right quick, I tell you that!” His anger was gone now. He laid back and let Rob lick his cockshaft.
“Speaking of assholes…” Rob said.
“You want me to stick you?”
Rob nodded.
He sighed dramatically, and recovered his face with his forearm. “You gotta buy me somethin’. There’s a gold chain wit’ a platinum crucifix on it. Got rubies and some shit. Fair-trade mined in Kenya,” he said. “You gotta buy me that.” He paused. “And Netflix, man. Why ain’t you got Netflix?”
Rob laughed. “I just don’t watch a lot of TV. I’ll get Netflix, I’ll buy you that chain, no problem.”
“You ain’t fuckin’ wit’ me, is you?”
“I swear,” Rob said. “You gotta do something else for me too though.”
“What’s that? I ain’t touchin’ yo’ dick, whiteman. Don’t even try and ask me fo’ a reacharound.” He groaned and slapped his dick over Rob’s face.
“No, not that. Call my dad.”
“What?”
“Call my dad and tell him what’s going on,” Rob said. He explained about how much he hated his father and how he loved humiliating him.
Lamar looked dubious at first, but then he smiled. He and his friends often made fun of this crackhead named Greenbelly, and Lamar did a spot-on impression of him. He was so excited to use that impression that he wasn’t even nervous as Rob’s ass slid onto his cock.
It was only as he dialed that Lamar realized he could feel Rob’s short ass-hairs on his dick. With wide eyes, Lamar watched Rob slide up and down. The feeling was disgusting — faint, but still, Lamar could feel it too strongly to pretend he was with a woman. He turned his head away so he wouldn’t have to see it.
“Hello?”
“Yo, you got a son who a real bitch? I got my dick in his ass, and he keep squirmin’. What’s up wit’ dat, honky? Huh? I’m tryin’-a smoke some crack while I dip my dick in ‘im, and he don’t sit still.”
Rob was distracted by the pain and pleasure in his ass, but he still laughed. Lamar’s crackhead-impression was great, with a frantic, clipped tone like he was really angry Rob was interfering with his crack-smoking. Rob’s father didn’t say anything on the other line, but his scoffing and his annoyed breathing were audible.
“Huh? You gonna make him sit still? Gonna burn yo’ boy wit’ dis crack pipe. He pay me eight dollar, honky, and I tells him dat, fo’ eight dollar, you get my dick and you get my hepatitises and you get my Lucy on yo’ back — I calls my crack pipe Lucy — she say I gotta smoke her e’ry day. What? What do you call yo’ crack pipe? Oh, you don’t name it? It ain’t gonna know it’s special if you don’t-” Lamar paused. “Oh, he hung up.”
“You’re really good at that,” Rob said as his prostate exploded with pressure and intense pleasure. Lamar’s cock throbbed in his ass.
“Yeah, that’s my Greenbelly impression. He this crackhead I know back in the projects, always sellin’ wifebeaters and shit,” he said. He snorted and sat up. Rob was sitting on Lamar’s crotch, so Lamar had to struggle to rearrange himself. “Gonna blow a nut in ya. Then I gotta take yo’ car and go visit my parole officer. You buy Netflix and make sure you got a credit card you can charge two grand on. When I get back, we goin’ to the mall so you can buy me that chain.”
“Okay,” Rob said, wincing as he moved with Lamar’s thirteen-inch cock inside him.
Lamar swayed as he got up on his feet — he hadn’t stood since last night — but he regained his balance quickly. He took a deep breath and slammed his dick in and out hard.
It was an intensely awkward position. Lamar alternated between trying to pretend he was a hardcore thug who knew how to treat a man like a prison bitch, and pretending he was so utterly macho he was disgusted by what he was doing. In reality, the truth was in between — he wasn’t disgusted, really, just awkward and glad his friends weren’t here to see.
Lamar forcefully pushed Rob’s face to the floor, while he lifted Rob’s hips. It was an awkward position for Rob, who took Lamar’s dick with such force he had trouble keeping his feet on the ground, meaning a large portion of his weight was supported by his own head.
Now that he was in position, Lamar drilled his cock in deep. He bellowed and pounded on his chest while he used all his weight to slam his dick in deeply. He chuckled and looked around as though waiting for his niggas to laugh with him, but of course they weren’t here.
Then he grabbed Rob’s hips and gyrated his crotch. He slammed his dick in a few times before he realized he was touching Rob’s mannish body. He let go and pounded freestyle for a couple seconds.
“Damn…” He grabbed Rob’s hips again to steady him, but then dropped him again. Every time Lamar felt Rob’s male body-hair, it reminded him he wasn’t with a woman, so he let go.
He felt like that slowed him down, like every time it happened he got farther from his orgasm. But that wasn’t really true. Lamar was too young for much of anything to slow him down — it just slowed down his mind.
So he was still thinking that he had to struggle to cum when an orgasm hit him suddenly. He grunted and yelped, embarrassed at his own animated reaction — he had thought he’d barely be able to do it at all, but he actually shot one of the biggest loads of his life.
His tight young muscles all flexed at once, and he groaned. Rob moaned in harmony with him, which made Lamar nervous because he could hear the masculine twinge to Rob’s voice. Pleasure ran up Lamar’s spine, so intense it made Lamar shudder and shake.
A torrent of cum flooded Rob’s ass. It came in thick waves, great gobs of cum flowing into him. Lamar groaned as he spewed more and more, laughing at himself and at Rob — was this a normal amount? He thought he might just be surprised because he was with a man, and it wasn’t really a normal sensation for him.
The cum just kept on coming, and it filled up Rob’s hole. It dripped out the sides of his ass, coating Lamar’s cock and dripping in gobs onto the floor.
Just when Lamar thought he was done, Rob shuddered. That caused a couple things to happen all at once. First, an intense orgasmic aftershock hit Lamar. Second, the motion made a great clump of cum plop out and into Lamar’s hairy crotch. Third, the sight of that happening made Lamar gag. So all at once, Lamar both experienced a second mini-climax and was overcome with such physical disgust that he retched.
And all that combined to make him laugh. Lamar always laughed at things that made him uncomfortable. He gingerly removed his rapidly limpening cock, and the sight of it covered in pearly white cum made him gag again.
“Yo, I gotta get a picture fo’ Killer,” Lamar said, his discomfort totally gone now. He grabbed his phone and snapped a photo of his cock, which was white with the semen that still soaked into it. He sent the photo to Killer with the caption, ‘this is what I looked like after sloppy-fifths. That’s yo’ nasty all over my dick, nigga’.
He stood up and ignored Rob, who laid there with his ass in the air, exulting in his own post-orgasmic pleasure. Lamar wandered off towards the bathroom, watching his gigantic dick throb and shake as it limpened.
“Gonna take a shower, honky,” Lamar said. “Don’t forget to buy Netflix.”
“Okay,” Rob said, his voice weak and breathless.
Lamar sauntered into the shower, already dialing his parole officer to make excuses for being late. He wasn’t late yet, but Lamar assumed he probably would be.
Besides, he thought as he stepped into the shower, there was a black slut who lived near the parole office. He could stop by and see her beforehand, get his dick wet in a real pussy and probably smoke a blunt. She usually had weed.
‘Oh, that reminds me! I should’ve asked for that!’ Lamar poked his head out the bathroom door, just before he stepped in the shower. “Yo, honky, leave some money on the counter for me. Like eighty bucks. I wanna buy some weed too.”
“Okay!” Rob said. He smiled as he put the cash out for Lamar and fired up his long-canceled Netflix account.

The Florist

Rob is after a studly ex-con working as a florist, and he nabs him with an offer of money for manmeat. That’s a good trade, made complicated by the arrival of a patronizing customer and by this florist’s intense need to up his asking price. Can Rob meet both his floral needs and satisfy his florist?

Read it now as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

“We close in four minutes, suh,” Thurgood said when Rob walked in to the florist shop.
Rob nodded. “That’s okay. I don’t actually want any flowers right now,” he said. His heart skipped a beat. He had no idea what made him think this would work, but he’d wanted to do it ever since he bought flowers here a few weeks ago. Rob loved flowers and florist shops, but he’d never seen a florist like Thurgood Pugh.
That’s because Thurgood had stacks of muscle with a brusque demeanor and a scruffy face, looking like a muscular goat. He licked his teeth and looked down Rob’s slim twink body. Thurgood had a rough-tinged voice too, a distant-thunder murmur like a car driving very slowly over rumble strips, and his fingers were thick, his hands big and callused like mallets.
“Oh, you got the roses for that wedding?” Thurgood asked. He said it with a twitch in his nose like he wasn’t used to talking politely with men. “How was it?”
“It was wonderful! Thank you!” Rob said. He flashed a limp wrist at Thurgood. Last time he was here, Rob sensed Thurgood checking him out, looking him up and down, and he was confident Thurgood was the kind of alpha male who would stick his dick in a man. He was a ‘a hole’s a hole’ kinda man, and he’d do what was necessary to get his dick wet. He had that swaggerous stance that suggested he got stiffies a lot and needed to bust a nut to get rid of them. Rob licked his lips and touched Thurgood’s muscular arm through his polo shirt. “You were so helpful, oh my god.”
“Good. Whatcha need?” Thurgood took a deep breath. He snorted and rubbed his face. He leaned against the counter, then against the wall behind himself, then he stood up straight.
“Can I ask you a question?”
He sucked on his teeth. “Yeah, fine.”
“I’ll give you a hundred dollars to stick your dick in me,” Rob said. “That’s not technically a question. Will you stick your dick in me for a hundred dollars? There you go.”
“Hmmm… Thought you was thinkin’ sumfin like that. You crazy, man, you crazy. Man…” Thurgood looked away and covered his face for a minute. “No way, suh, not for no amount of money. No way.”
“Oh-“
He furrowed his brow. “Two hunnerd dollars, man. Two hunnerd dollars. I stick ya you so good you won’t eat beef for a week, man, two hunnerd dollars.”
“Oh, well… You said no way… but okay. Yeah. I can do that. Two hundred dollars,” Rob said.
“Wait, uh… Whatchoo want, huh? You can taste my dick. That what you want?”
“Yes, I want to taste your dick, please, sir, Thurgood. Mr. Pugh. But I also want it in the butt…” Rob said with a seductive smile.
“Hmm… Lemme think, boy.” Thurgood’s reaction had gone from no way to hell yeah to maybe. Rob suspected that the answer was yes, but Thurgood thought he could negotiate more money this way. Rob didn’t mind too much — he could afford it, and he wanted to see what he could tease out of Thurgood.
“Why don’t I just start licking? When you’re ready, you can tell me to bend over and spread my cheeks.”
“Hmm…” He grumbled like he didn’t want to do this, but a smile flickered over his face too. Rob came around to the other side of the counter.
“What? Right now?” Thurgood bristled. “The store’s still open, man.”
Rob smiled as he dropped to his knees behind the counter, concealed from anyone who might come in. Rob pulled his head under Thurgood’s apron, then unzipped Thurgood’s khakis, which had a musky unwashed smell even over the floral scent that dominated the florist shop.
His cock popped out. It was thick and veiny and so long it sent an anticipatory thrill up Rob’s spine. That was going to hurt. But he couldn’t wait, Rob loved a challenge. He touched the firm bulge of Thurgood’s cock through his khakis. His hands moved upward, under Thurgood’s polo shirt.
“Yo, whiteman, you doin’ it or what? Huh?” He shouted, his gravelly deep voice a low throaty rumble that made Rob’s throat crave his meat. Rob’s fingers explored his warm stone-like chest until Thurgood swatted his hands away. “Get started, damn…” Rob unzipped Thurgood’s jeans and let his cock come out the fly.
At last, Rob licked Thurgood’s shaft. It twitched beneath his tongue, and the flavor of his coconut-oil-scented skin overwhelmed Rob’s senses. He shivered and ran his tongue up and down the shaft.
“Man, I ain’t closed. Someone could walk in here anytime,” he said.
“Then go lock the door.”
He shrugged. “I don’t wanna lose no customers, man. People sometimes come in the last couple minutes — oh, good evenin’, ma’am,” he said with a forced warble to his voice.
Rob suppressed a laugh at the realization that a customer had indeed come in. Rob couldn’t see from this side of the counter, but he heard her fat-footed steps and her heavy breathing. She sounded like a heavy woman, possibly old.
“Oh, hello…”
“How can I help you today, ma’am?” Thurgood asked. He sounded vaguely flirtatious. Rob wasn’t sure if that was because he flirted with all his female customers, he flirted with this one in particular or because he was just overwhelmed and found it difficult to modulate his demeanor with Rob slurping on his cock under his apron and behind the counter. Thurgood chuckled. “You gettin’ flowers for the beauty contest you just won?”
“Oh, stop, you’re bad, you’re so bad,” she said. Rob could tell that she blushed and also that she didn’t want Thurgood to stop. The customer giggled like a high schooler, though it was clear she was much older than that. “I’m hosting a dinner party for my Purple Hat friends.”
“Sure, sure, of course.” It was clear Thurgood didn’t know what Purple Hat was. His cock stiffened and throbbed in Rob’s mouth. A few drops of precum leaked out.
“And I wanted a table decoration,” she said. “Something understated. Something like this, but more colorful. Maybe that — but that’s awfully large. And it can’t have geraniums in it. My friend Suzie is actually allergic to geraniums, can you believe it?”
“Gerania,” Thurgood said.
“I’m sorry, dear?”
“The plural of geranium. It’s gerania.” Thurgood pounded on the glass counter. It probably looked like he was in pain, but he was just covering up a moan. His cock dripped precum, its salty flavor coating Rob’s tongue.
Rob was pinned between Thurgood and the counter, which was high enough that the woman couldn’t see anything below Thurgood’s chest. Rob probably would have been overwhelmed by hysterical laughter if his mouth weren’t full. He reached around and grabbed Thurgood’s asscheeks, making him yelp and squirm. Thurgood leaned over the counter and smiled at the woman.
“Oh my, are you alright?” she asked.
“Yes, ma’am.” He pointed to something. “I was just… ugh… I was, uh… That’s a very nice bouquet. No gerania.”
“Oh, that is remarkable!” She scurried away from the counter. “That is remarkable, Thurgood. Did you put this together?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You are an artiste, sir,” she said. “I am so happy for you. I think it’s great that your passion for flowers has brought you out of the ghetto.” She smacked her lips. “It just brings a tear to my eyes. Most people think that flower arranging is unimportant. But it matters, it really does. It beautifies our homes, and-“
“Uh-huh.”
“It changes lives. If there were a reality show about florists, Thurgood, you should apply. You would win. You have such a great life story,” she said.
“Yep. Yes, ma’am. Uh-huh,” he said. His knees buckled, and he licked his lips. He laughed, apropos of nothing, shifting his weight between his feet as he covered up his moans of desire. His cock throbbed in Rob’s throat. Thurgood tried to keep his hips still, but his instincts had him grinding his dick on Rob’s tongue, and he kept fidgeting to cover up the motion. The first credit card she gave him was declined.
“Oh is that card not working? My husband, I swear, it’s like he barely even tries to manage the finances. Try this card,” she said as she handed Thurgood her backup credit card.
Thurgood sighed and flared his nostrils. Rob guzzled down precum, making big moisty sounds that Thurgood had to cover up with a coughing fit. Thurgood writhed and ran the second credit card.
“Are you okay tonight, dear? You seem distracted.”
“Uh… Just… Comin’ down wit’ something, I’s afraid, sweetheart,” he said with a sigh. “It’s not serious. Credit card went through, here you go, darling. I hope the hat… I hope the hats, the purple hats… I hope they’re okay. With the flowers. Good flowers. Okay.” He bit his lip and rolled his chest. “Ma’am.”
She clicked her tongue against her teeth. “Oh, you poor dear, you get some sleep tonight. Don’t stay up all night carousing with pretty young girls.”
“Oh, I won’t. I’m… I’m a Christian man, ma’am,” he said. As though to accentuate his point, he grabbed Rob’s forehead and held it in place. Rob guzzled anyway, fighting against Thurgood’s hand to sswallow his cock deeper. Thurgood got two hands on Rob’s head, trying to pull him off, but Rob was stubborn and stayed right where he was, letting Thurgood’s cock rest in his throat. Even as he tried to stop Rob, Thurgood kept humping his dick back and forth in Rob’s mouth, moving his hips in little circles so the woman wouldn’t see.
“That’s wonderful, it really is!” she leaned against the counter and sighed. “I think this country has really moved away from religion in a big way, and that’s not a good thing. I’m not a believer myself, but I think people need that. People need a sense of mystery, and a sense of social obligation, a reason to be part of the community.”
“Yep. Uh-huh.”
“I did… Thurgood, I did want to talk to you about something,” she said. “I hope this doesn’t come across as rude. I’ve just been buying flowers from you for a long time.”
He sighed and muttered, ah, god…, but he just smiled and nodded at her. Rob reached his hand into the fly of Thurgood’s khakis and played with his balls, which were sweaty and heavy, low-hanging, feeling juicy and plump in Rob’s fingers.
“Are you a Democrat?”
“Ain’t allowed to vote, ma’am. Convicted felon,” he said.
“Oh, right, yes. Of course. But you would vote Democrat, is that right?”
“I, uh… I don’t really follow politics. Since I can’t vote…” He spoke through gritted teeth. Surely it was obvious to the woman that he wanted her to leave, Rob thought, but she didn’t let on that she was aware. Rob nuzzled his nose all the way down into Thurgood’s dense nest of pubic hair.
“Sure, that makes sense. But most… African American people nationwide-” she said it like she expected Thurgood to burst into applause for using the politically correct term. “-do vote for Democrats.”
“Yeah, okay.”
“Well I’m part of the city Democratic Party, and we’ve been seeing a decline in voting rates, and I think that means we’re not communicating, you know?” Her voice was bright and sunny. “So we’ve been trying to come up with ways to speak to the African American community. No, I’m sorry, that was offensive. We don’t want to speak to them. We want to speak with them. With you. With people like you. We want to have a dialogue.”
“Uh-huh.”
“So we’re having a dinner next Friday!” She cackled as if that was a punchline but stopped when Thurgood didn’t join in. “And we’re inviting some local businesspeople and religious figures. From churches. Black churches. I mean, African American churches. I mean, churches catering to African American people. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.” She smiled at him. “And, uh, anyway, I wanted to invite you. You’re a local business leader.”
“Yeah.”
“Oh, you’ll come?! Thank you so much, Thurgood! I can’t wait, we’re going to have such a dialogue!”
“Ah…” His mouth twisted into shapes. It was obvious to Rob that he searched for an excuse to say no but didn’t come up with any. All he could think about was his cock spewing precum down Rob’s throat. So he just sighed and said, “Okay…”
“That’s wonderful! I’ll see you then! Thank you!” she said as she walked out the door. When the door swooshed close, Thurgood sighed and looked down at Rob. He opened his mouth to say something angry, but then the door opened. The woman walked back in. “And God bless! Thank you, Thurgood, and God bless you!”
“Uh… Yeah. Good… night.” He scoffed when the door finally shut with her on the other side. He grabbed Rob by the neck and slapped him. “That lady was a Democrat. If she saw you, she’d shit a brick. Ladies like that can’t know about this kinda prison shit.”
“She might be into it,” Rob said, gasping for air. “You should communicate better with her, as a representative of your community-“
“Shut up,” he said. He sniffed. “Now go lock the door.”
“Me-?”
His nostrils flared. He slapped Rob on the cheek with one hand, his cock pulsating on Rob’s face. “I ain’t pullin’ my pants up on ‘ccount of I got a big cock, and it hurts to try to tuck it when it’s hard. And this place got windows, man, I can’t go walkin’ over there.”
Rob nodded and walked over to the door. “So, Thurgood, have you fucked that woman?”
“Hell no. You don’t understand girls. She the kinda fat white chick I don’t fuck. She that other kind,” he said. He lowered his eyes. “The bad kind.”
Rob flicked the lock, and turned the sign over from Open to Closed. “Sorry you have to go to a Democratic Party dinner.” He looked at Thurgood sympathetically. “That sucks.”
“Yeah, I oughta kick yo’ ass, boy, that was fucked up. I couldn’t think of no reason to say no, man. I got a million reasons now. I should’ve told her I gots a court order to stay away from Reverend Chandler. I know he’s who she meant by ‘local religious leaders’.” When Rob returned to the counter, Thurgood scowled and grabbed him by the neck. Thurgood dragged him into the backroom, where there were no windows that could be seen from the street. “I hate how white people like that say ‘African American’.”
“I want to taste your African American cock,” Rob said as he got back to his knees. “Was that better?”
He wrinkled his nose. “Yeah. You do it fine. I bet you don’t say it often though. Do you?”
“No, I just say black people.”
“See?! I gots this theory,” he said as Rob resumed licking his cock, which had only lost a trace of its erection as they shifted rooms. Thurgood cleared his throat. “Outside of the media and shit, the only people who say African American is racist. They’s overcompensatin’. They think black is an insult so they don’t wanna say it. If you ain’t racist, you just say black.”
Rob’s mouth was full, so all he could do was nod and mumble in an agreeable way. It didn’t seem Thurgood really cared what he thought anyway. Thurgood barely paid attention to his own dick. He fumed and humped his shaft down Rob’s throat. When Rob gagged, Thurgood lightly slapped him on the cheek but kept plowing his face. His dick slipped out and rammed all over Rob’s face, but Thurgood didn’t stop pumping his hips back and forth, he just aimed it back for Rob’s mouth.
“Maybe I’ll tell her I got somethin’ black I gotta do that day. What do black people do that she can’t deny? I got… a meeting with the parole officer that day? Nah, that’ll confirm her stereotypin’. I gotta go buy some doo rags?” He chuckled.
Rob had an idea, but he couldn’t say it with his mouth full. He tried to pat Thurgood’s plump asscheeks to signal he needed a break, but Thurgood ignored that signal, treating his face like a pocket pussy. His balls slapped against Rob’s chin.
“Somethin’ ‘bout diabetes? Nah, she fat as shit, I bet she got diabetes too,” he said. He lowered his eyes as he finally realized Rob’s flailing signaled he wanted Thurgood to stop. Thurgood glowered at him. “What? You want a break? You payin’ for it’, man, I oughta charge you extra for breaks. I like plowin’ bitch’s throats. You serious you need a break? Show me on a scale of one to ten how bad you need a break, boy. Just stick up fingers.”
Rob’s face was bright red. He didn’t even really want a break, he just had an idea to tell Thurgood. So he only held up two fingers.
“Two? You don’t need a break then. You tell me when you really need it, boy,” he said. He shook his head. “Don’t be tellin’ yo’ nigga to stop ‘nless you really need it, that ain’t right. Ain’t respec’ful.” He paused. “We ain’t nevuh finalize no price for that butt nonsense, boy. I’ll stick it in you for five hunnerd.”
Rob’s throat closed up around Thurgood’s throat. He clawed at his body as his lungs cried out for air. He knocked a vase off the counter, but Thurgood caught it with lightning-fast reflexed. Some of the flowers — a bunch of pale irises — landed on the floor. Thurgood ignored them.
“Hold up yo’ right hand if five hunnerd is alright. That’ll be seven hunnerd total,” Thurgood said. “Hold up yo’ left hand if you sayin’ no.”
Rob held up his right hand.
“Good.” Thurgood stood there with his hands on his hips, watching Rob squirm. He didn’t hump anymore, he just stood still with his cock being rubbed and caressed by Rob’s sputtering throat. Great gobs of saliva escaped out of Rob’s choking mouth, soaking into Thurgood’s khakis.
“Bend over and grab your ankles. Don’t cry about the position, that’s the only way I do it with a man,” Thurgood said.
He finally pulled away from Rob’s mouth, allowing Rob to gasp for air. Rob staggered away from the wall. He was overwhelmed by dizziness as he gulped down air. Thurgood roughly dragged him to the center of the room, surrounded by buckets full of potted roses. He snarled at Rob.
“I say bend over, boy!” He smacked Rob’s asscheek hard. “You want a nigga to stick you? You gonna get hard, and you gonna get it rough. That ain’t easy. You might not like it. But you ain’t pay me to make you like it.”
Rob knew he would like it, but he was still apprehensive. Thurgood’s cock was huge, after all. He bent over and grabbed his ankles. It was an awkward position for him, but Rob didn’t mind it — part of the joy was getting it from unusual angles, from unusual people, in unusual situations.
“I had an idea,” Rob said. He was still gasping for air, tendrils of spit and precum clinging to his lips. “That was what I wanted to say. She’d love it if you were doing something Democrats like. So tell her you had to drive to some other city because you bought a black barbershop, and there was some problem you had to fix. Tell her some employee was selling drugs out of it, so you went over there to beat him up and tell the police. She’ll think you’re the greatest African American ever.”
He stopped with his cock right at the tip to Rob’s asshole. He grunted. “Yeah. That’s good. Okay.” He chuckled and slipped a few more inches in. “Good idea, whiteboy. When I call her, I’ll be on the road, man, I’ll call her last minute.” He groaned with his dick almost all the way in Rob, then mockingly imitated his own voice on the phone with her. ‘Yo, girl, I can’t come to yo’ dinner tonight on ‘ccount of I gotta go rip this nigga’s head off fo’ sellin’ crack outta my store. I don’t even care ‘bout getting locked up again, I ain’t got my religion no mo’, I just wanna make this nigga dead for disrespectin’ me!’ She gonna freak the fuck out and talk me outta killin’ that nigga. I tell her I go sleep in a church somewhere to recover my faith. I thank her for savin’ my soul. Then I don’t gotta go talk to a bunch of Democrats and Rev’rnd Chandler. Fuck him, he do anything for a pancake dinner, man, I swear to God. Devil can tempt him easy: high yellow girl wit’ pancakes. He sin every which way for a high yellow girl with a plate of pancakes.”
Just like before, Thurgood seemed distracted. He complained about Reverend Chandler as he slammed his dick in Rob’s hard. His cock slammed all the way in, tickling Rob’s innards and sending shards of pleasure through his body. Thurgood may not have noticed that he didn’t prepare Rob’s ass in any way.
“I bet that’s the only reason he comin’. There gonna be at least one high yellow girl there. Pancakes prolly not, but somethin’ carby, that’s for sure. Whatever it is, you could squish it down on ya plate till it’s flat.”
“Uh-huh.” Tears welled up in Rob’s eyes, the pressure in his ass was so intense he thought he was falling apart. It was too difficult to jack off with his hands around his ankles and his ass in the air, so his own cock just throbbed between his legs. When he let go of his ankles once to touch himself, Thurgood just smacked him in the back of the head.
“Nah, boy. You pay extra if you wanna jack off while I stick ya,” he said. “I like it like this.” He paused. “You wanna pay extra? For five hundred dollars, you can jack off. For another five hundred dollars, I kiss ya while we both cum. You want that?”
“Hell yeah! I’ll do it! Please! Do it, Thurgood!” Rob knew he was being cheated — Thurgood must have decided Rob could afford to pay more, which was accurate, and he was cheating Rob into agreeing to it.
“I like hearin’ you beg, boy,” he said. He grabbed Rob’s head by his hair, and he took them both down to the ground. Thurgood dropped, but it was a controlled fall like he had done this many times before. Rob’s heart leapt into his chest because it felt like he was falling, but he ended up landing on his stomach.
Thurgood was atop his back, pressing down with all his weight. He slammed Rob’s face into the floor — not a painful attack, just a grinding push onto the tiled floor. He swayed his hips from side to side as his balls crawled up in his sac.
“Look at me, boy,” he said with a growl. Rob turned his head to the side. Thurgood kissed him on the lips. It was a very awkward, sideways kiss because Rob’s head was shoved into the floor. Moments later, however, Thurgood rolled over.
Rob screamed in pain and pleasure. He sat on Thurgood’s cock, all twelve inches of which pulsated in his ass. He could feel Thurgood’s orgasm growing. Rob laid back onto Thurgood’s chest, exulting in the feel of his prison-starved muscles flexing against Rob’s smooth skin.
From this angle, Rob could kiss Thurgood more effectively. He sucked on his lip and stuck his tongue in Thurgood’s mouth. Thurgood kissed him back passionately, slathering spit over Rob’s tongue as he ground his cock in Rob’s ass.
They both came at the same time. Almost as soon as Rob felt the first burst of cum in his ass, his own cock throbbed in his fingers and his wad spurted out. It sprayed over Thurgood’s chest and shoulders.
Pure liquid bliss flowed through Rob’s veins. He gasped and gulped down air, savoring the taste of Thurgood’s sweaty body and hot breath. He licked Thurgood’s grizzled chin and neck, prompting a grimace from Thurgood as he filled up Rob’s ass.
He shot a huge load. It just kept on flowing, even after Rob had emptied his own balls over Thurgood’s pecs and shoulders. Thurgood kept on groaning into Rob’s his ear, licking his cheek and spurting jet after jet of creamy hot cum into him.
Finally he was done, but Thurgood didn’t stop. He wrapped both arms and legs around Rob’s body to hold him in position. He pistoned his hips to keep his limpening dick inside, until his massive wad turned into a big frothy mess that leaked down his shaft into Thurgood’s bushy crotch.
Thurgood groaned and fell limp. His cock was still hard, but the rest of his body was soft like half-melted chocolate. Rob loved that feeling. He rolled his head over to lick Thurgood’s neck, then down to his sweaty chest. Rob licked every drop of salty sweat off, while he watched cum drip out of his ass.
“Alright, you got yo’ money’s worth,” he said. He didn’t physically force Rob off him though. He just held his hands above Rob’s head and watched him lick.
Rob pulled away. He stood and stretched his sore legs. Thurgood remained there on the floor, khakis around his ankles, apron and shirt pulled up and over his jizz-splattered chest. After a minute or two, he finally got up and wiped his chest off.
“Thanks,” Rob said as he wrote out a check. He laid it on the table surrounded by gerania.
“Lemme see that,” Thurgood said with a growl. Rob handed him the check and he hobbled to his feet. Pants still around his ankles, he went to a check-reading machine. “Don’t go nowhere. I wanna make sure this is a valid check.”
“Sure. I’m just gonna lick your ass a bit,” Rob said. He dropped to his knees and licked Thurgood’s smooth plump asscheek.
Thurgood growled. He shifted his weight between his feet as though he expected a show of hostility to scare Rob off. That was probably a good bet most of the time — Thurgood was large, muscular and scary, while Rob was thin, delicate and weak. But Rob knew how to handle men like him. So he just licked all of his ass-sweat off his butt. From the way his back shuddered, it was clear Thurgood liked the attention.
He grumbled as he cursed the check-reading machine for taking so long. He sighed and clicked his tongue against his teeth. Finally he clapped. “Alright, it’s done. You fine. Get outta here, freak.”
Rob nodded and stood up. He put his clothes back on, using Thurgood’s body for support as he got his pants on. Thurgood snorted and rolled his eyes, but he allowed it.
Then Rob kissed Thurgood once more on the lips. Again, Thurgood bristled and grumbled, but he didn’t make Rob stop. He narrowed his eyes to slits.
“Thanks, Thurgood. You’re a great florist, a real artiste, a rose sprouting from concrete. Do you wanna be a Democrat?” Rob said, giggling.
“Just get out.”

The Fat Jock Bottoms

A lot of rugby jocks are six-packed hunks with perfect physiques… Orson Gammond is not one of them. He’s desperate for a woman to pay attention to him, so when some cheerleaders dare him to let their twinky buddy ride him like a pony, Orson is eager to agree!

But can Orson bend over and take it long enough to put on a good show for the ladies he craves?!

Read it now as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

The cheerleading squad consisted of fourteen girls and Bart Dazzle — he was the only man on the squad. They were best friends, and Bart spent all his time with them. Bart always felt more comfortable with women, but he did appreciate the male form. The cheerleaders attracted some pretty appealing exemplars of the male physique, and they got Bart invited to all the coolest parties and get-togethers at Goldendale Hills University.
At first Bart enjoyed watching the cheerleaders take turns sucking off Raython, the football player, but soon it became old hat. He watched them take turns “reverse-gangbanging” the captains of the football team, and then the captains of the basketball, rugby and soccer teams. Not every cheerleader participated, but most of them did. They thought it was hilarious, which Bart had to admit it kind of was. But it was hot too. Bart enjoyed watching sex more than joining in.
One of the few players they didn’t think was sexy was Orson Gammond. He was a prop on the GHU rugby team, and like most props, he was huge. He wasn’t fat, but he hardly had a perfect body either. He was one of those men who was too muscular to have a six-pack. His belly jutted out with the sheer power of his oversized frame. He was goofy, with a big round face, a perpetually uncombed shock of thick black hair, and an awkward sprinkling of tufts of hair over his strapping chest. He had an ass that just didn’t quit — too plump to be a “bubble-butt” but plenty round and thick and inviting. Bart just wanted to spend hours covering it in whipped cream and licking it clean.
At a giggley late-night drinking session on Saturday, Bart and the girls had rated the members of the rugby team. The discrepancy over Orson’s ranking was tremendous — Bart rated him highly, while the girls uniformly put him on the bottom of the list.
That was what had sparked the girls to come up with this plan, which Bart had raced to agree to.
“Hey, so we’re having a sauna, Orson, and you can come in if you want…” said Lisa Anne, poking her head out of the sauna and into the locker room. The other cheerleaders giggled behind her.
Orson’s eyes opened wide. Everyone else in the locker room fell silent. They usually did when one of the girls came in. Orson had never been invited into the sauna with the cheerleaders before.
He grinned like a goofy bastard, and he even did a little dance there in front of Lisa Anne before going into the sauna. That made his jockstrap bounce and his pecs shake. Lisa Anne squealed because of his big caveman-like face leering at her. She blushed.
“Hell yeah, are you gonna jerk Orson off? Hey!”
“Can I come too?”
The other players were both surprised and annoyed that they didn’t get to come. The cheerleaders usually only took one player into the sauna at a time — reverse-gangbanging jocks was a cheerleading tradition here at GHU. Bart had come in and watched a few times, and he got to very briefly taste Raython Lake’s cock once. He had thought Raython wanted some dome from him as he ate cheerleader pussy, but it turned out Raython wanted a blowjob and simply hadn’t noticed who was on his cock at the time.
The sex was exaggerated though. It was more of a prank than anything else. Usually the entire cheerleader squad would bring one player in, and they’d tease him, dancing, laughing, maybe give him a massage and a lapdance, and then either suck his dick or fuck him. Sometimes they’d all do it. They’d usually all pretend to join in — at least touching him — so they could say it was an orgy. But Bart had never seen any man have actual sex with more than two girls in the sauna. Usually they’d make a big deal out of it, but then only the sluttiest girls on the squad did anything, while the rest giggled and teased. The athletes at GHU were usually too testosterone-charged to fuck a dozen girls before cumming.
He had also never seen Orson in there.
Orson was so huge — nearly seven feet tall — that he seemed to fill up the sauna. As soon as he strode in, the girls all fell silent. Orson blushed. He had a big dick that barely fit in his dingy jockstrap. His body heat turned the sauna even warmer.
“Hi, uh, girls.” Orson chuckled, his deep voice resonating in the wooden-ceilinged sauna. He blushed deeper every time he caught a glimpse of a naked girl through the steam.
“Hi, Orson…” said Lisa Anne, who grinned at him. “So… don’t get too excited, we didn’t invite you here because we want to fuck you.”
They all laughed because Orson looked crestfallen. Bart felt bad for him and got up. He wrapped one hand around Orson’s waist, hugging him close. “Oh, you poor baby…”
“Man…” Orson lifted his nose. “Why’d you invite me in here then?” He completely ignored Bart, who nuzzled his belly and even touched his asscheeks. Bart’s delicate arms reached all the way around Orson’s wideness, and Bart nuzzled the sweat-dappled flesh of his torso.
“Oh, sorry, sweetheart… you’re so nice, baby…”
“We just love you so much, Orson!”
“You’re so cool! Really, so so cool!” The cheerleaders squealed and cooed. Their tits jiggled, which was what Orson’s eyes followed.
Only then did Bart tweak Orson’s nipples, which finally got his attention. Orson looked at Bart’s petite body wrapped around him, as Bart licked a trail down his belly.
Orson frowned. That frown turned into a scowl, though he didn’t seem annoyed by Bart touching him. It seemed like he scowled just because that was what he thought guys should do, or maybe he thought he needed to in order to communicate that he wanted to mess with the girls in here, not Bart. Or maybe he was just a scowler.
In any case, his dick was hard. His belly was in the way, so the girls didn’t see, but Bart could tell. Orson might not have even realized he was hard. His eyes were hypnotized by the enchanting jiggle of their tits.
Lisa Anne touched Orson right on the navel, and she giggled — all the girls were giggling, that was their natural state — but Lisa Anne’s giggles intensified when she touched Orson’s belly. His bellyfat jiggled like her tits. Lisa Anne didn’t touch men with bellyfat. Her last boyfriend was Raython the football player, who had a six-pack like a movie star. She had never dated a man who didn’t have a six-pack, and Orson had never even seen his ribcage.
Bart could feel his ribcage though. Orson watched her finger explore up his body to his powerful chest. Orson’s muscles rippled under his torso fat when Lisa Anne traced her finger back down his belly, then scampered away like a Japanese photographer before Godzilla. Orson wasn’t touched by girls often, so that made him shudder and shake.
“So, we didn’t invite you in here so we could fuck you,” Lisa Anne said. The girls all laughed. Orson — who had a reputation as a dummy — just stared at her blankly. Lisa Anne patted him on the side. “I would like to propose a trade. You get to do whatever you want with someone on this squad, and then someone on this squad gets to do whatever they want with you.”
“Okay.” His baritone voice rumbled. He blurted out his answer without taking any time to think. It was obvious he hadn’t figured out where this was going.
Lisa Anne giggled. “I didn’t tell you who yet.”
He shrugged. “I don’t care, you’re all beautiful.” He blushed again as they all oohed and aahed at him. He wiggled his body and even covered up his jockstrap as he felt momentarily vulnerable. He seemed to have forgotten it was Bart stroking his asscheeks and his muscled thighs. Bart slurped up the sweat clinging to his flesh.
“Thank you so much, sweetie,” Lisa Anne said. She blushed too. She wasn’t usually this forward with men, but it was obvious Orson wouldn’t catch anything that wasn’t made very explicit. Lisa Anne cleared her throat. “Okay, you have to let Bart here ram you up the ass. And then we’ll-“
Orson looked down at Bart, who still clutched his torso. It took a moment to sink in, then Orson grunted and stepped away. It looked like he might leave the sauna. He covered his jockstrap with both hands, as though he just now noticed he was naked in front of a gaggle of girls plus Bart.
“What? He ain’t a girl.”
Lisa Anne and the other cheerleaders giggled. “Well, yeah, we know that. We just think it’d be so hot, baby. We wanna watch-“
Orson jumped between his feet a couple times. He was too nervous to stand still. He cleared his throat. “Yo, girls, come on… Come on…”
“You can say no, Orson.”
“Yeah, we’ll just mess with each other instead. We can have an all-girls day, y’know, if you don’t want to do anything…”
“Ooh, we should do that while Orson gets it up the ass! That way he’ll have something to watch!” Lisa Anne squealed, and the other cheerleaders all agreed that that was a good idea. They sometimes made out or even ate each other’s pussies for the benefit of the players, so that part wasn’t so strange for them.
They all reacted as though that settled it, and Orson had said yes. He hadn’t, but he hadn’t left either. A part of him knew he was going to do it even as he tried to bargain with the girls.
“How about I let him just jerk me off or whatever? That’s not too weird.” Orson’s big round cheeks were red as cherries.
“We’ve seen that, baby. We’ve seen Bart jerk off all kinds of guys,” Lisa Anne said. That made Bart giggle — it was true, they, or at least a couple of them, had done that before. Men would do anything Lisa Anne said. “Besides, he can’t bottom all the time-“
“He’s a bottom, I can tell by lookin’ at him!” Orson shouted.
“Oh, you don’t know, you can’t tell how much of a bottom someone is by looking at him,” Lisa Anne said. She crossed her arms over her chest. Orson sighed and nodded. Then, just to help make this easier for Orson, she kissed another cheerleader right on the lips.
Orson watched the girls making out like his life depended on catching every detail. Bart came back to hugging him close, just to see how comfortable he was so far. Bart’s hand moved down to his crotch and handled his fat erection. Orson twitched but he didn’t respond. Bart kissed him on the belly, then climbed onto the sauna bench to kiss up his chest. Orson was totally stiff, unmoving, staring straight at the girls as they made out.
His muscles were hard as rock. Since Orson didn’t have a perfect body and he was usually pretty low-key, his muscles were never really this firm. It was like touching a stone statue. He seemed to be going for pretending it wasn’t happening.
“Ooh, Orson, that’s so hot…”
“We love you, baby!”
Orson grunted at them. Bart knelt in front of him and put his mouth on Orson’s cock, just long enough to make it hard. Orson had a deliciously greasy flavor, full of machismo and unwashed manhood.
But instead he sat down and spread his legs. Bart couldn’t help but giggle — he couldn’t believe he was really doing this. The sight of girls fingering themselves and each other was strange too, something Bart never really had seen before, not like this.
Even when the girls told him to put his mouth on Bart’s dick, Orson didn’t stop watching them eat each other’s pussies. He knelt in front of Bart, blushing intensely. He opened his mouth and winced even before Bart’s dick passed his lips. He scrunched his eyes shut.
“Swallow it!”
“Oh my god, that’s so hot! You’ve never been sexier, Orson!”
Bart couldn’t tell if they were telling the truth, teasing Orson or exaggerating to make him feel more comfortable — Bart had won a bet with the girls, that was why they agreed to make Orson do this. Plus they probably wanted to see how much they could make a frustrated and horny fat guy do. So they hooted and flashed their tits at Orson as cringingly brought his mouth closer and closer to Bart’s manhood.
As soon as Bart’s dick touched his tongue, Orson gagged so violently Bart didn’t think this was going to happen. Orson retched and spat up a big wad of saliva onto the floor of the sauna. His now-open eyes looked dourly on towards the girls, who all giggled as they watched, having removed their tops now entirely. When Orson caught sight of their breasts, he again was hyponotized them. His cock twitched, and Bart stroked it with one hand the best he could — Orson was so tall that it was difficult for him to stoop low enough to put his mouth on Bart’s dick, and when he did, that placed his crotch nearly out of reach for Bart’s hand.
He opened his mouth and gagged again when he took Bart’s dick past his lips. His gags made his bellyfat and his thunderous thighs wobble and made the muscle under his meat flex and ripple. Bart explored those jiggling muscles as his dick jabbed and roped around on Orson’s face — Bart didn’t focus on getting it straight in Orson’s mouth, because that made Orson gag and spit it out, and Orson was more focused on the girls and their catalogue of tits. That meant Bart and his hands could roam over every inch of Orson’s face and chest and even his ass. Orson was a big man with a big mouth, and he tried to take Bart’s dick without actually touching it any more than he could help it — he tried to take his dick in his mouth without letting it touch his tongue or the sides of his mouth.
And he was big enough, he could sort of do it. His mouth was cavernous, and Bart got his entire dick in there before he felt Orson’s tongue finally batter his shaft.
“Oooh, baby, that’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen…” The girls moaned, their giggles turning to quiet titters so Orson wouldn’t feel they were laughing at him. They were, of course, or some of them were, holding back hysterical laughs so hard their cheeks were turning red like Orson’s. Orson did not notice.
When Bart’s dick got to be too much for Orson, he closed his eyes, only to open them when he realized that meant he couldn’t see the cheerleaders. With some effort, he managed to keep his tongue on Bart’s cock. He was surprised to find that the taste wasn’t so bad. He had gagged initially because he was humiliated and worried about how gross it would be.
But it actually tasted just like pussy, he thought. A lot of girls refused to fuck him, they just let him lick their pussies — because he had a nice big tongue but his dick was too big for them, and they didn’t like having to cram beneath his massive body — so Orson was an experienced pussy-eater. He had tasted a lot of vaginas, and this cock tasted just like one.
He wasn’t sure if that was because all cocks rather tasted like pussies, which seemed logical if disconcerting, or if Bart specifically tasted like a girl. That option had a certain logic to it, since Bart was effeminate.
Regardless, once he got started, Orson thought it wasn’t so bad. He had to watch the girls out of the corner of his eyes, but that was enough to see them, and as long as he thought about that, he wasn’t too embarrassed at the cock drilling down his throat. He could almost ignore it.
Bart didn’t mind the awkwardness of it. He was a bottom by habit and by nature, so he rarely got jerked off like this, and he had certainly never been jerked off by a massive rugby jock who outweighed him by like two hundred pounds. He forced his dick down Orson’s throat, and the more Orson got into it, the less he gagged and the more he could keep an intent stare at the naked chicks in front of him.
It was almost too awkward and nerve-wracking to really be enjoyable. For a moment Bart wasn’t sure this would go anywhere. It was the worst dome of his life, objectively speaking, but when he felt that tongue slather spit on his shaft, and Bart touched the sweat-dappled muscles of Orson’s back, a shiver of pleasure ran up his spine.
Bart moaned. Precum flowed onto Orson’s tongue, enough to spark another torrent of gagging. That made the girls giggle, but they didn’t stop. Orson just arranged his body so he could get a better look. More and more precum spewed forth, as Bart was overcome by throes of passion and an intense desire to blow his wad. He tried to hold back though.
Finally, when Bart thought he was about to cum, he pulled out. He bent over and kissed Orson on the lips before Orson could say anything else.
The girls cheered him on. Orson wrinkled his nose and didn’t kiss back, but he didn’t stop Bart. Bart’s tongue plunged into his mouth. Orson sighed but endured it, while Bart’s hands roamed all over his body.
Bart very nearly sat on his lap as they kissed, out of pure instinct and habit — he loved taking it up the ass like that, sitting on his alpha’s lap. But instead he reversed it, sitting on that bench and motioning for Orson to sit on his cock.
“Oh.” Orson hung his head. He had hoped maybe Bart would cum just from the blowjob. But there were so many naked girls all around him that Orson couldn’t bear to say no. He wanted this more than anything. Orson would have found it difficult to say no to any number of naked girls for any reason.
The position was awkward, but Bart loved it — he feel of Orson’s fat body twisting into position made the whole thing sexier. Bart held onto Orson’s hefty ass and back as though he could help support him, while Orson lowered himself onto Bart’s crotch.
“Do it! Do it!” The girls squealed and squirmed in each other’s arms. They must really be enjoying the sight of Orson getting it up the ass, Bart thought. He was glad. He wondered if they could do this again.
Then Orson let out a deep-chested howl as Bart’s cock slipped in. For a moment, Orson thought something was wrong. This hurt too much; it wasn’t supposed to be like that; something, he thought, had gone wrong.
His muscles all tensed, and he stopped moving with just the tip of Bart’s dick in his ass. His hole clenched, making Bart gasp, already on the verge of orgasm.
It was lucky that the discrepancy in size made this position difficult, because Bart was so turned on he would have blown his load right away if it was easy. He gripped Orson’s massive asscheeks, each one of them seemingly bigger than Bart’s whole body, and he guided Orson down.
The girls slowly stopped making out to watch. Orson gasped and heaved, his face turning redder and redder with every bit of Bart’s cockmeat sliding into him. He fumed and stopped a few times, resuming only when he looked up and saw the tits and pussies surrounding him.
“Oh, shit, man,” Orson said, his voice breathless and weak.
“That is so hot! Oh my god!”
The girls all agreed. Hoping to buck up Orson, they took turns kissing him on the lips while he focused on letting Bart’s entire cock fill up his ass. Bart moaned, his voice breaking and wavering.
Finally, he was in. Bart was overwhelmed by both the pressure and the arousal. He reached up to massage Orson’s back, which stretched above Bart’s head, deliciously imperfect with a few scars and marks, along with a mat of body hair stretching over his shoulders from his chest.
Orson held himself on Bart’s cock. He couldn’t bring himself to move, so Bart pumped his hips upward, plowing Orson’s tight asshole.
“You have such a nice ass,” Bart said. “Goddamn…” That made the girls giggle. Bart reached around Orson’s body. He managed to grab his dick, which was limp. Bart intended to give him a reacharound, but Orson was totally soft, so, Bart thought, that wouldn’t happen.
Just as he was about to let go, however, Bart felt his dick twitch and Orson’s ass loosen. Bart could plow harder now, and Orson seemed to be in less pain. Soon his cock was rock-hard, throbbing in Bart’s grip.
Orson was barely aware of that happening. He could tell that the pain had diminished, and there was a strange, offputting sort of pleasure building up in his ass. He had never experienced anything like it. It wasn’t unambiguously blissful, there was a certain agonizing quality to it, like when you removed a cast and the skin felt good but was so sensitive it hurt at the same time.
That pleasure grew more intense with every passing moment. Orson’s deep moans resonated in the sauna, and his voice was so low and rumbling that it seemed impossibly loud to the girls. He sucked on his lip as he realized he was getting a reacharound and liking it.
He hoped it wasn’t obvious how much he was enjoying this. The pain was still there, but it wasn’t so important. It seemed irrelevant right now, like he couldn’t possibly worry about his sore asshole when his prostate sent wave after wave of inexhaustible pleasure through his veins.
“Oh god, stick him!” The girls squealed and clutched each other.
Bart struggled to reach Orson’s dick. His body was so big it was tough to do, especially with Bart taking the lead in plowing Orson’s ass too. His balls slapped into Orson’s hairy cheeks, while he stroked that massive uncut cock. He had to use both hands to keep spreading the voluminous flesh of Orson’s cheeks.
And then at last, they both finished. Bart orgasmed first, and while he moaned into the meat of Orson’s back and filled his ass up with cream, he was able to speed up his handjob. That sent Orson over the edge at the same time, so he sprayed jets of cum onto the sauna floor.
Bart’s spurting cumloads lasted for what felt like forever. Bart didn’t mind, as he was wracked by spasms of pleasure like golden chords striking throughout his slim body. Though he struggled to accommodate Orson’s hefty frame above himself, Bart didn’t mind at all. He had been hoping to mess around with Orson for awhile. He massaged every inch of those rugby-toned muscles, while pumping his last few drops of cum into Orson’s hairy ass.
Finally, Orson slid off him. He was too exhausted now to sit, so he laid down, glad to see that Lisa Anne sat next to his head. She patted him on the cheek.
“Oh my god, Orson, that was so hot…” Lisa Anne said with a giggle. The other girls all rushed to agree.
Bart took a deep breath. The girls were swarming Orson, who beamed — despite his embarrassment, he was glad to have done it because girls had never given him attention like this before. He had already cum but Orson was desperate to go again as long as it was with a girl this time.
So by the time Bart was on his feet again, Orson was smiling as one of the cheerleaders sat on his face. He snarled like a wolf, making her laugh, and then pounced on her pussy, ramming his tongue right in.
“Oh god, Orson!”
Bart was tired. He hung around for a few more minutes. Orson let him suck on his balls a bit, but eventually the girls were too involved for Bart to find a way in. He was done anyway. There was a linebacker Bart wanted to check out, and he just might have an in with one of GHU’s chunkier coaches too. The campus was full of thick-bodied alpha men, and Bart was on a mission to worship every one of their bodies.

The Linebacker Bottoms

This game of Truth Or Dare is getting out of control! That’s because football linebacker Davy and two sorority chicks are so drunk they’ll do anything they’re dared to. Luckily for Avery, that includes bending over and taking one for the team! Avery is a cute little twink who never thought he’d top a massive alpha male football jock who’s too thick for girls! Can Avery satisfy Davy’s football-toned thickness?

Read it now as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

When Avery came into the kitchen at Omega Omicron Tau House, he didn’t think anyone was still partying. He hoped to find some bread he could eat before the long walk back home. It promised to be a long, lonely walk. He wasn’t a college student, he just lived near campus and often found himself at college parties.
Much to his surprise, there were still partysimps milling about in the kitchen. Some girls he didn’t know appeared to have had the same idea — eating bread and butter as though it was ambrosia, hoping to sober up. But there was still a trio laughing and drinking as well. They giggled around the kitchen table: two of them were Lisa Anne and Brenda, two Omega Omicron Tau sisters and friends of Avery’s. The third was Davy, a burly white football jock with a square jaw, an awkwardly shy grin and a hefty body crawling with muscle. He was too big and crude and hairy to be cool and get invited to the cheerleader parties. Avery had been daydreaming about those muscles ever since glimpsing Davy shirtless at football practice the other day.
He was only here because the other football players were here. Everybody was invited to this rager. He was only here — in the kitchen right now — because everyone else on the football team was either passed out drunk or drunkenly fucking someone, probably a cheerleader, in one of the upstairs bedrooms. Some might have drifted into the house next door, which was Mosley House, one of the off-campus partyhaunts.
“Oh my god, Avery, you have to join in!” Lisa Anne said. “We’re gonna play Truth or Dare with Davy.” She and Brenda sat together, near Davy, who burped and blushed at himself. He raced to nod, but he was drunk enough to move slowly, and it looked like his nod threw his head off-balance.
Davy was not the kind of football jock who was successful with women. That was why he stayed up even so drunk he could barely stand — the girls were paying attention to him, and he didn’t want that to end. Lisa Anne and Brenda wouldn’t give him the time of day when they were sober. Alcohol was the great equalizer in a way, Avery thought. We are all equal at the bottom of a cup of tequila. Lisa Anne and Brenda giggled, and Avery could tell they were giggling at Davy’s bigness.
Their teasing laughter did not bother Davy. He was so girl-starved he would do literally anything they said, including drink until he was queasy. Lisa Anne and Brenda normally only hung out with the six-packed prettyboy football players. Jimmy, Raython, Ted, Bodie, Ezekiel, George, Charlie. Davy was the exact opposite of that. The girls were squealing and laughing, drunk as hyenas, clutching his arms — treating him like an ugly puppy, whose ugliness somehow makes him even cuter.
“That’s a baby’s game,” Avery said with a grin, “But yes. I’ll join in.” He hoped someone would dare Davy to take off his shirt soon. He probably wanted to go shirtless, as it was warm in here and Davy looked to have had the drunken sweats. His silver and red jersey was stuck to his skin near his armpits and down his ribs.
They were all drunk. Avery was sober-ish, but Davy was sloshed and the girls were blotto. Davy flexed his muscles beneath his jersey and his cargo pants, which was caused by anxiety, not a desire to be seductive. Davy was not the kind of man who knew how to be seductive. His pecs rippled like an earthquake, and that made his jersey ripple again and again.
“Davy keeps daring us to make out, he’s a pervert,” Lisa Anne said. She and Brenda giggled profusely, red-faced and bubbling. “But it’s your turn first, Avery. Truth or dare?”
“Dare,” he said. “Always dare.”
“Uh, lick the part of Davy’s body you most want to taste,” Brenda said, laughing so hard her face was red. Lisa Anne squealed like a piggie and hugged her close. The two of them hugged tightly through a sea gof giggles, which made them almost sway off their chairs and onto the beerspill-scented floor.
Davy bristled and forced a wan smile on his face. Avery grinned back at him. This was exactly why he came to sorority parties — you never knew when a bunch of jocks were gonna get naked. Avery loved frat boys, football players and big macho jocks like Davy, making him the ideal man for Avery.
“You can do it, Davy! If we can make out for you, you can let him lick your… whatever,” Brenda said, clutching Lisa Anne and hugging her as they giggled through the drunken hilarity of it all.
Avery looked at Davy bashfully, then lifted up his shirt. Rather than taking Davy’s shirt off — which Davy allowed for by leaning back in his chair and raising his arms — Avery simply inserted his head under Davy’s loose-fitting jersey. Avery loved the musty smell of his sweat-stains, which were intense under his shirt. Avery licked his nipples and every inch of his gigantic chest.
Davy took the jersey off anyway, and Avery blushed as he sat back up. The girls hooted and hollered. They stayed red-faced and laughing, but Davy outright cherried up. He looked at his feet and flexed his pecs again, making them ripple like an earthquake wracking a pair of mountains. The more the girls laughed, the more embarrassed he got and the more determined he was to not express his embarrassment.
Next up was Davy’s turn, and he murmured in his awkward, plodding baritone, “Truth.”
The girls hadn’t stopped giggling, but Lisa Anne managed to speak, through peals of laughter. “Have you ever been jacked off by a man?”
Davy remained red-faced. He was stony and silent at first, then a smile crept onto his face. “Well… Uh…”
“What is it?!”
“Oh my god, you have to tell us!” Lisa Anne positively screamed. Her and Brenda were clutching each other. This was the side of womanhood that Avery wasn’t a big fan of — the loud, screeching, ever-giggling side — but he was glad to have the opportunity to lick Davy’s chest, which Avery clutched from the side like a liferaft. He wondered how far Davy would let this go. The girls were so loud, Avery thought. When girls get drunk, their volume dial falls off.
“I let a guy jerk me off last year!” Davy blurted out. The girls cheered, but everyone else in the kitchen right now was either drunk enough to be passing out or was involved in their own private conversations. Davy cleared his throat and spoke over the girls’ laughter. “It’s tradition… Before the homecoming game, every player on the team has to let a man jerk him off.”
Lisa Anne and Brenda seemed to be expecting that, maybe they knew about the tradition. Probably do. They hang out with all the football players.
After that, the girls both picked Dare. Avery wanted to lightbulb up something funny for them to do, but Davy blurted that they should make out. They wasted no time in doing so. They were drunk enough that they merely fell over each other at first, but it soon evolved into a sloppy fascimile of two sorority sisters kissing. Lisa Anne even fingered Brenda, which she performed dramatically and expertly as though they did it all the time.
Maybe they did do it all the time. If Avery was a girl, he would. Why not?
Davy watched them groping each other with his eyes bugged out, tongue hanging from his mouth like a cartoon dog. His chest remained red, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat to accomodate what Avery was certain was a hardon.
“Dare,” Avery said, even before anyone pointed out it was his turn. “Always dare, darling.”
“Finger Lisa!” Brenda screamed, exactly like Davy had dared her to do just now. She guffawed in her best friend’s arms, both of them laughing so hard Avery wasn’t sure he could get his finger beneath their clothes.
Avery shrugged. Lisa Anne spread her legs and grunted like a macho man as Avery shoved his hand beneath her shorts.
Her vagina was hot and moist, not too dissimilar to fingering a man’s ass, a thin and bony man with an unpleasant ass. But still, Avery fingered her for a few seconds, and she suddenly stopped laughing, blushing as her pussy got moist beneath his touch. It looked like she hadn’t expect this to actually turn her on, but she was drunk enough to be an easy lay. Avery withdrew his finger and smelled it, making the whole circle laugh.
“Smells like nasty slut,” Avery said with a smile. “You been fuckin’ truckers again?”
“Oh fuck you!” Lisa Anne shouted. She mockingly slapped Avery, as her and Brenda descended into faux-accusations of sluttery.
Everyone’s eyes turned to Davy, who blushed. He opened his mouth and began to say ‘Truth’ again but Lisa Anne and Brenda interrupted him.
“You can’t just keep picking truth!” Lisa Anne said.
“If you don’t start picking Dare, we’re going to pick Truth,” Brenda said.
“Yeah. This isn’t fair. We’re doing all kinds of nasty stuff, come on!”
“Fine, fine,” Davy said. He licked his lips because Lisa Anne’s pouting involved her leaning forward, which gave Davy a perfect shot of her tits. He would have agreed to anything in that moment. “I’m game. I’m down for whatever.” He watched the girls giggle drunkenly in each other’s arms. “Dare.”
“Let Avery jerk you off!”
“No, no, wait, mess around with Avery, but let Avery be on top! Like prison shit.”
“Oh my god, yes, you’ll love it!”
“You totally will!”
“Ramrodding is prison shit, gu’l, you dunneed to know nuttin’ ’bout it.” Lisa Anne was doing an imitation of a black guy, someone who presumably told her about ramrodding. Avery was surprised, Lisa Anne and Brenda seemed too nice to know about that.
Nobody should tell girls about that stuff, Avery thought. They were all too drunk for him to say it out loud though.
Davy cleared his throat. It looked like his instinct was to say no, but he desperately wanted to keep playing and watching Brenda and Lisa Anne hook up in front of him. He scrupulously avoided eye contact with Avery, who was so shocked Davy didn’t refuse out of hand that he couldn’t think of anything to say.
“We’ll mess around at the same time! You can watch us!” Brenda said. Lisa Anne whispered in her ear, and they both giggled together. Their hands roamed over each other’s tits — over the clothes, but that was enough to make Davy’s eyes pop out.
Davy stuttered like a train. “Okay! Y-y-y-y-yeah… Okay. Okay. But we ain’t, uh, you know… we should-should-should, we should go somewhere, not doin’ it here, in here, in the kitchen, you know, where anyone can see.”
The girls agreed, still giggling so much they had trouble walking. They led Davy and Avery up the stairs to one of the unused bedrooms. The other two bedrooms had people passed out on the bed and on the floor, but this one was just a bed in a room, no other furnishings.
Davy stood there next to the bed, his red chest heaving for breath nervously beneath his loose-fitting jersey. He blushed and looked away when he happened to meet Avery’s gaze.
The girls immediately crawled on the bed and started kissing, hands groping each other’s bodies. Davy’s dick visibly jerked beneath his cargo pants. Avery grabbed it and stroked, which made Davy sigh. His muscles all relaxed at once.
Avery quickly took off his own clothes, then lifted Davy’s football jersey — Davy was too tall for Avery to take it off all the way himself, but he lifted it up and Davy removed it. His strapping chest was dappled with sweat, which Avery licked off. He slurped off the salt crystals that remained in every corner of Davy’s cavernous chest. That was exactly what he had imagined himself doing when he watched Davy shirtlessly practice with his teammates a few days ago, so it got him hard right away.
He pushed his hands down Davy’s pants and gave him a stroke. Davy had a massive dick that was already half-hard in the cotton prison of his jockstrap. Avery shivered as excitement coursed through his veins, and he tugged down that jockstrap. His cock popped out.
“C’mon, get to it, Davy!” Brenda said with a giggle before returning to kissing Lisa.
Avery leaned back on the bed and spread his legs. His dick hung, half-hard and ready. Davy sighed deeply, then kneeled down. Even as he did that, Avery wondered if he might back out. Davy had already gone farther than Avery had ever thought possible. Davy did not seem like the kind of linebacker who would ever bottom.
“Do it! Do it!”
He hesitated before sticking his tongue out. The girls chanted their encouragement, and Davy looked up at them before doing it. Then he closed his eyes again and, moving quick like he was ripping a bandaid off, he licked Avery’s shaft from tip to root, then gagged furiously when Avery’s dick jerked to attention.
The girls giggled and resumed making out themselves. Davy watched, mouth agape, his hips undulating as though he was trying to fuck the side of the bed. Avery pushed his dick in, deciding he needed to take charge of this situation or Davy would take forever.
“He’s doing it!” The girls squealed into each other’s bare breasts.
His dick jabbed into the back of Davy’s mouth, which was so big he could easily swallow all of Avery’s dick. Avery was surprised at how tenderly his tongue battered the shaft when he finally got into it, moaning into Avery’s crotch with every thrust of that dick inside his throat.
He soon stopped gagging and even seemed to almost not notice what he was doing, like he wanted desperately to forget so he didn’t think about it at all. He simply watched the girls take off each other’s clothes, writhing around on the bed together. Avery angled his body so he didn’t interrupt Davy’s view.
Davy’s tongue wrapped around Avery’s shaft, covering it with saliva. It was a hot and moist mouth. He drenched Avery’s crotch in his spit. He was a massive man with a massive throat, and he didn’t seem aware that he displayed extraordinary skill at swallowing Avery’s shaft. He didn’t even hesitate in going all the way down, until his fat nose nuzzled Avery’s crotch. Davy’s hands formed fists that dug at the mattress underneath him and Avery
The whole world came alive in Avery’s eyes, as intense shivers ran through his body. Davy’s tongue battered his cock. Avery moaned as pleasure assaulted his senses. Davy’s mouth was exquisite, and his amateur fumbling made it even better — an expert bottom with his skills and his cavernous throat could have got Avery’s nut off in seconds, and it was only his awkwardness that dragged out the exquisite sensations wracking Avery’s body. While Davy’s eyes remained pointed straight at the girls, Avery watched Davy’s curvy back muscles shift and flex as he moved up and down on Avery’s precum-leaking dick.
Davy made a sour face when he tasted that precum, but he didn’t move away. He just pretended it wasn’t happening and kept going. His eyes wildly flitted between Brenda and Lisa.
“Okay, boys, it’s time for you to move on,” Brenda said, now that her and Lisa Anne were naked. They were well beyond ‘making out’ now, they were all over each other, both of them watching Avery and Davy like they were a fascinating documentary. “We’ll sixty-nine, but we wanna watch some ramrodding.”
“Yeah, we dare you to let Avery ramrod you like a prison thug nigga-!”
“Yeah, like that nigga — keep it real, ramroddin’ bitches-!” They were both imitating some black guy again. They musta got catcalled or overheard a black guy on the subway or something. Avery didn’t want to ask because he was busy and besides, their response would be a long double-voiced story that was screamed by drunk banshees.
“Let him cum inside you!” Brenda shouted, her face turning red as she giggled into Lisa’s shoulder. They were both dizzy now, clutching each other because they laughed too hard to keep themselves upright.
Davy hesitated before nodding. He buried his head in the blankets while the girls giggled and pawed all over each other. Avery stood up, his head bonking Davy on the ear. Davy’s eyes stayed trained on the girls and their marvelously bare tits.
Avery’s dick dripped saliva, which was good because he was going to need a lot of lubricant if Davy’s ass was really intact, Avery thought. He arranged himself behind Davy’s burly body, standing on the floor next to the bed.
With his head resting on the mattress, Davy watched the girls like they were a lifeline and he was drowning in an ocean of dicks. Avery pulled his cargo pants down, then smiled at the sight of his big plump asscheeks.
The best thing about Davy’s ass, Avery thought, was how imperfect it was. Davy didn’t have the sculpted body of a quarterback or a lacrosse jock; he had a thick ass with plenty of padding, a bit of hair and a ruddy tone, rather than pure alabaster like most white guys in perfect shape. His asscheeks were like those pumpkins that win awards at county fairs, and Avery kneaded the soft flesh so he could savor the feel of the firm muscle underneath.
Avery spread his asscheeks. “Don’t worry, baby,” he said, patting Davy on the ass. “I’ll give you a reacharound.”
The girls laughed as they climbed on top of each other to start sixty-nining. Avery wedged his dick between Davy’s asscheeks but let it lay there at first, while he used one hand to get lube out of his pants pocket and his other hand snaked around to stroke Davy’s dick. Davy remained rock-hard, despite — or perhaps because of — his anxiety.
Avery worked the tip of his dick in but quickly felt resistance, along with a surge of intense pleasure that got his voice wavering. “You gotta loosen up, man, you’re bunched up tighter than Dick’s hatband. Don’t worry, I’ve got plenty of lube and I’ll stop if it hurts too bad. Just relax, it’ll feel good once I get goin’.”
“Come on, Davy, open up…” Lisa Anne said. “We’re doing all this for you.”
Brenda giggled. “You’re not. You love this, you slut!”
“I do not! You’re the filthy slut!” They began mock wrestling on the bed, which made Davy moan with desire as he watched their drunken tits jiggle. It was exciting enough for him that it distracted him, and his ass loosened. His face was wide-eyed and excited.
Avery pushed his dick in before Davy could tighten up again. It was hot and soft and moist, better than any ass Avery had ever penetrated before. Davy moaned and grunted. He closed his eyes briefly, then resumed watching the girls, pretending nothing was happening in his ass. The lube helped a lot, and the spit that still dripped from Avery’s throbbing cock. Davy gritted his teeth as Avery ground his dick in deeper and deeper.
There was no mistaking this for a non-intact ass, Avery thought. He had never encountered a man that required so much patience. Every few seconds, Avery stopped to let Davy adjust. His ass would loosen just enough for another half-inch or so to go in, then Avery would feel yet more resistance.
But despite the awkwardness, Davy was already the best piece of ass Avery had ever plowed. Part of that was, of course, because Avery rarely ever plowed anyone. But the main reason was that Davy’s ass was both huge and tight, a double whammy.
Eventually he loosened up enough that Avery could get the entire length of his shaft in there. Davy bit his lip and grunted, his face still a bright red and fixed strictly on the sight of Brenda and Lisa’s coupling nearby.
Pounding his dick in and out, Avery felt an incredible surge of pleasure, like nothing he had ever experienced. His balls slapped against Davy’s big meaty body as he thrusted. Avery moaned so loud he blushed almost as deeply as Davy did, and the girls giggled. Davy shook his head and hid his face.
The difference in size between Avery and Davy made things rather awkward. The male body simply wasn’t built for a small, trim and delicate-bodied man to top a big, bulky brute like Davy. Avery had to stand on his toes and still had trouble getting up Davy’s ass.
But somehow the awkwardness of it made the whole experience better for Avery. He had to grasp and claw at Davy’s plump, juicy boss in order to keep his bearings. He moaned, his voice drowned out by Davy’s more pained grunting.
Despite Davy’s apparent discomfort he was also clearly aroused. His dick leaked precum into Avery’s fingers. When Avery finally found that Davy’s ass was open and loose enough for serious plowing, Davy’s dick spasmed and his grunting turned to aroused groans of surprised desire.
Avery smiled. He had found Davy’s prostate, and Davy didn’t seem to even notice the girls anymore. He bucked and flexed beneath Avery’s body, more and more enthusiastic with each slam of Avery’s dick inside him.
“Oh fuck yeah-” Davy moaned, then cut his own voice off. He moved along with Avery’s thrusts now, contorting as he accepted every inch of cockmeat deep in his tight ass.
While Davy’s passion was appreciated, it was also difficult for Avery — it was hard enough to remain on top of Davy’s massive frame when Davy lay still. Now Avery had to mount him like he was riding a horse, and he used his toes to support himself on the edge of the mattress, which Davy remained bent over top of.
Davy’s ass was so sexy that Avery had trouble focusing on giving a reacharound, which was also difficult given their position, with Avery straddling Davy’s ass, and Davy’s strapping body, which Avery had to strain to reach around. Avery could do little more than strain his arms around Davy’s waist to barely reach his crotch.
But then before Avery could adjust himself to get back to the reacharound, Davy crawled forward on the bed. He lifted his blushing head up, so that his ass jutted out, giving Avery perfect access to it. He was so big he took up more than half of the bed’s surface area, which was fine with him since it meant he could watch Brenda and Lisa Anne so closely he could smell their pussyjuice.
Not only that, Davy started jacking himself off. Even as he winced with Avery’s dick slamming in and out, Davy flexed his chest and stroked his own dick. It almost looked like an instinctual reaction, like he was only dimly aware he was doing it.
The girls were approaching orgasm, having long since stopped paying attention to Davy’s masculine heaving and grunts. They writhed in each other’s arms, while Avery gripped Davy’s thick-skulled head.
“Oh, damn, yeah…”
Avery wished he could have gone for longer, but he knew Davy would back out once the girls were done. So Avery didn’t fight back as his own orgasm washed over him in waves.
He collapsed to Davy’s back, planting his face between those massive undulating shoulderblades, which were hot to the touch and slippery with clean, salty sweat. The most intense orgasm of his life wracked Avery’s body, so powerful it hurt. He grunted in pain just like Davy did.
Moments later, Davy shot his own load into his hands and onto the bed. The smell of semen filled the air, which Avery was glad for because it replaced the scent of womanhood. Davy’s ass tightened all over, sending pulses of post-orgasmic pleasure up Avery’s spine.
Cum flowed deeply into Davy. Avery wasn’t sure he had ever shot so much. It felt like gallons of cum entering Avery and filling Davy up. Avery rubbed his face and ground his tongue into Davy’s back muscles, as they both orgasmed together.
Avery fell totally limp, savoring the feel of Davy’s football-toned back muscles beneath his tiny twink body. He had never felt so small in his life, and he loved it. He sucked on Davy’s meaty back until he was sure he had given him a few hickeys.
“Okay, okay, you’re done,” Davy said, his voice pinched and breathless; the agony was coming back to him now that it wasn’t overshadowed by bliss. “Get off me.”
Avery giggled and pulled away. Davy breathed a loud sigh of relief now that his ass was empty, and he winced as he grabbed a tissue to wipe his hand off.
Exhausted, Avery lay down on the bed next to the girls. They were done too, cuddling in each other’s arms. Davy stood over him, watching the girls.
When Avery reached up to massage Davy’s belly — which was almost, but not quite flat, exactly the way Avery liked it — Davy winced like he was ticklish. He smiled and crawled into the cramped bed. He climbed over Avery to lay between him and the girls, who giggled as he kissed Brenda on the cheek.
Avery, in turned, kissed Davy on the cheek as well, and slowly massaged his shoulders and chest. His pecs twitched beneath Avery’s fingers. Avery’s dick pressed against Davy’s thigh. Davy ignored him and did the same to both girls. They lay there for what felt like forever, until the girls were both asleep.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Avery asked.
Davy blushed. “I’ll deny it if anyone asks,” he said. “But that was incredible. If you ever get some more girls to play Truth Or Dare, gimme a call. I’ll pick dare every time.”
“Dare always, huh?”
“Dare always.”

The Linebacker

Avery is offended by the hazing horseplay of the GHU football team, so they come by to say sorry and give him a ride on the player of his choice. Avery is all too happy to forgive them, but then he turns down the six-packed studs everyone thought Avery would pick…

Instead he opts for the stout linebacker they call Gravyboat! Can Avery handle this thick-ass jock’s mountain of manmeat?!

Read it now as an ebook!

Or read the whole thing here!

When the waiting room to the massage parlor erupted in noise, Avery assumed it was a mistake. There was a bar next door, so maybe this group of rambunctious dudes had intended to go there and entered the wrong door. That seemed probable. They were whooping like this was the last stop on a pub crawl.
Avery hurried out to the waiting room, where he stopped short.
The entire football team from the GHU campus had come, more than fifty men filling into the cramped space, which had twelve chairs. Avery was flummoxed by the conglomeration of young bucks in loose-fitting sweatpants and ripped t-shirts.
“Youths…” Avery furrowed his brow. There was a time when he sought the vitality of young men. And he still did, in his own way. But Avery was more mature now. He had more to lose. He did not like the way they leaned on his chairs and the counter and the bamboo mats on the wall, and he could smell their feet from here, or maybe that was them, not just their feet, but Avery didn’t like it.
He wrinkled his nose.
They all spoke at once, the air filling with bravado, threats and challenges. At least three spoke to Avery, who couldn’t make out what anyone was saying. Two of the young men began arm-wrestling, which required them to get down on the floor on their bellies. The armwrestling, Avery later determined, was to decide which of the two “called dibs on upstairs for the party tonight, broh”. Six of them explained simultaneously why that was important. It involved girls. They wanted to fuck, presumably.
Avery could sympathize with that. He didn’t feel the same way, but he understood the impulse.
“Hey, hey, shut up, y’all, e’ryone shut up!” shouted the square-jawed quarterback, Jimmy, who looked like a Disney prince with a powerful shock of blond hair and broad shoulders like a plow. His brilliant eyes flashed handsomely. He made Avery’s heart flutter. His muscles rippled under the jersey he wore, not a jersey for his team, it was a 49ers jersey.
That was when Avery spotted Quinn Webblehutt, the quiet one in the corner, looking like he didn’t want to be noticed. He sat in a chair properly, and he blushed when he laughed. He avoided eye contact with Avery.
That’s because Avery knew Quinn. He came in last weekend.
Quinn was a freshman linebacker, and he was fat. He was also very strong and athletic and he was very fast for his size, but he was more than four hundred pounds and he had a belly that could fit a dozen Averys. He had come into the massage parlor and gotten a massage. Afterwards, he took out his disgusting fat dick and farted with his disgusting fat ass and told Avery to “lube up”.
That fucking asshole had come in here thinking Avery was some kind of cum receptacle of last resort for peanut-dicked hairy lardasses. Quinn said that he was being hazed, that he was told he had to come here and ram the fuck out of Avery and that Avery was to bend over and take it in whatever position Davy chose.
Anyway, Avery might choose to service a man he liked, someone with a physique worth admiring. But he did not take watery loads from some nineteen-year-old behemoth who smelled like a load of bread that got left out in the rain, and he did not appreciate his services being assumed. He said that first to Quinn and second on the phone to the head coach at the GHU athletic department. Coach Marshall Shapiro.
Now Quinn was over there in the corner looking chagrined as a toddler, eyes aimed at his feet. He didn’t talk to anyone.
“Hey, y’all, shut up!” Jimmy shouted again and again until they finally fell more or less quiet. Jimmy cleared his throat and spoke to Avery. “Uh, look… So, we heard, like… You were pretty mad ’bout the, you know… hazing.” Jimmy smiled, showing off his dimples. A girl could drown in those dimples, Avery thought. Jimmy flashed his grin like he thought it would get him out of any problem. “We didn’t mean that you had to, y’know… do anything. It wasn’t like… it was just a little thing that got out of control. You know, hazing. Nobody was like… it wasn’t required.”
A few of the other players laughed. Avery crossed his arms over his chest. He felt very small right now, but powerful.
“So, uh… We… I — I, very much, but also we, we need you to call Coach Marshall, and, uh, tell him that we’re okay now. You gotta tell him we apologized and everything’s alright, broh. It’s all good. He won’t stop being, like… he’s been like very shouty, it’s been, you know… Like…” Jimmy blushed like Quinn, as an underhushing arose from the assembled jocks, some of whom played out like they were grabbing each other’s balls and squeezing, which made them silently laugh. That made Avery suspect Coach Marshall had squeezed the shit out of Jimmy’s balls. “Coach Marshall was like… mega-pissed. I mean, you just gotta tell him that, alright? Tell him you accepted our apology.”
“You haven’t apologized,” Avery said.
“Oh, yeah.” Jimmy stripped off his shirt and flexed his muscles in front of Avery’s face. His chest was broad and clean, brightly pale, his six-pack etched, his pecs rippling like a sea in a storm. He got down on his knees as though he was going to propose marriage. “I’m sorry. I apologize for not respecting you and having the… not respect to, uh… I’m an in-grate. I was in-grating. I was ingrated. Ingrating to you. Disrespectfully,” he said. So… I apologize.” Then his eyes lit up. “And Quinn’s a fucking dumbass, I made him run a buncha laps and do this thing… It’s gross, but it’s like… He sucked on my jockstraps for a whole practice-” The players all tittered. “It was in his helmet. It’s cool, he’s cool You’re cool, man. We’re cool. All cool now.” He raised his eyebrows in Avery’s direction.
“Hmm.”
“And, to make up for it,” Jimmy said with a wry grin and a smile. “You can — you don’t got to — but you can, if you want… You can pick one of us, and uh… y’know…” He blushed. “You can do, like… If you want ‘em in ya ass, y’know… Whoever you pick gonna do it. Anyone you want.” He again made his pecs ripple and flexed his six-pack in Avery’s direction. A few guys snorted and snickered at him. Jimmy smiled again. He seemed to think Avery would pick him, presumably because he was the one girls threw themselves at. His body language suggested the picking was just a formality, and it was already a given that Jimmy would be the choice.
Avery smiled. “So you’re going to apologize for assuming I wanted to get it up the ass from a stranger by allowing me to pick the stranger?”
Jimmy shrugged. “Well, yeah. Kinda.” He paused. “Yes. That exactly, that’s what we’re doing. Sorry, is that-?”
“That’s fine,” Avery said, but he rolled his eyes. That seemed like a bad lesson for Coach Marshall to be teaching. But Avery really did want to take it up the ass from someone in this room. A linebacker, in fact, not the quarterback Jimmy. Not the freshman linebacker Quinn.
The entire room was silent. Avery’s heart thumped. These men all looked at him.
Avery already knew who he was going to choose. There was a senior linebacker with pale skin and a massive barrel-shaped frame, kneeling because there were no more chairs available. He was big and brutish in a crude, cavemanish way. He was Gravyboat — his real name was Davy. He looked like the kind of beast that Avery wanted. He was exactly the kind of man Avery wanted most: too big and too raunchy for girls, too hairy, too rough, crude, rude and overwhelmingly massive. His hair was thick and greasy, his chin scruffy, his clothes stained and torn. He didn’t have a six-pack at all, but he wasn’t fat either. He had just the right amount of heft over his powerful body.
“Who you want, huh?”
“He’ll pick Jimmy. Or Raython if he likes black dick, like Kelly-“
“Shut up, broh-“
“Don’t give him ideas, nigga!”
“-jacked me off in the exam room-“
“Fuck you-“
Avery just ignored their arguments. He walked slowly through the crowd, tickling each one. He grabbed their asses and even kissed their biceps as though carefully inspecting each player to see who fit his needs. When a pair of cocky black guys pulled their dicks out together to show off how big they were, Avery gave each one a stroke and nodded.
“Nice ones, sure,” Avery said. He was about to move on, but then he had an idea. “Sword-fight.”
They must not have heard that term, cuz they both looked confused for a moment, then their eyes lit up at the same time. They flopped their limp dicks at each other, laughing and jumping away, then they came closer and did it again as the rest of the team erupted in laughter. A few others did the same — sword-fighting right there in the waiting room — but Avery just moved on.
“Sorry guys, stop by and see me sometime. Come together.” He winked at them, and they both erupted in furious laughter, which made their dicks jiggle like fat baseball bats in an earthquake. Avery moved on down the line. “Don’t stop swordfighting.”
The two black guys — Raython and Easy — laughed and chortled, and they kept their dicks touching. They avoided looking at each other or at Avery after that, they just kept their heads cocked to the side as their fronts jutted towards each other so their limp cocks smushed against each other. Easy and Raython more or less stopped sword-fighting, they watched Avery instead, but they did keep their dicks touching, which Avery appreciated.
But he kept on going, tracing the outline of one handsome stud’s pectoral muscles and even kissing his bare nipple, prompting another outpouring of chatter and laughter from the others. But Avery at last stopped when he reached the one they called Gravyboat, who kneeled in a ratty old t-shirt without sleeves.
“Lift your arm,” Avery said.
Gravyboat furrowed his brow, but did so, emitting a baritone laugh to conceal his anxiety as his teammates chuckled. Avery hadn’t gone for anyone else’s armpit. But Gravyboat was sweaty and unwashed, and Avery could tell that he was going to be fragrant. Avery sniffed his armpit, which was rank and made Avery’s cock throb in his pants. The team erupted in applause, and Gravyboat blushed — it took a lot for him to be embarrassed, but that was enough.
“Gravyboat! Gravyboat! Gravyboat!”
“Do the Gravyboat!”
The “Grayboat” was a dance and an intimidation tactic on the field. Gravyboat had a deep voice befitting his massive size, and when he let out a warcry, it could be heard over the cheering fans in the stadium, at least on the sidelines. He did a shaking-ass dance at the same time. The crowd went wild, always did. He had spent hours practicing it back in high school.
But it felt awkward to do it now, off the field, outside of practice and in front of this tiny flamboyant weirdo. Gravyboat did it because his friends demanded it. He roared and flexed his muscles all at once, cringing because he felt Avery’s feminine fingers stroking him as he did.
It was a joke because Gravyboat did not have a perfect body. Not fat like Quinn, Gravyboat — Davy Mitchell — was just thick. He was perfectly thick, in Avery’s view. The other football players mostly competed on their six-packs. It was only Gravyboat, Quinn and a handful of others who had any meat on their bones.
Gravyboat blushed so red Avery wondered if he was going to pass out, while Avery’s hands explored his chest and the firmness underneath the padding atop his torso. He even licked a trail from Gravyboat’s neck — which Avery had to practically jump up to reach — down to his pecs, feeling his lungs expel that awesome cloud from his cavernous lungs. His anxiety made his pecs and stomach and shoulders and arms all ripple in turn.
“I choose you,” Avery said, just in case it wasn’t obvious. “Will you carry me into the room?”
Gravyboat blushed. Part of why he had adopted the Gravyboat-persona was that he found it difficult to present himself well — he didn’t have the patience to wash and brush his hair, to shave, to wear deodorant every single day, to always shower after a workout, to do his laundry and wear clean clothes. He found that the best way to overcome the teasing and snickering was to get so big and muscular that people were scared of him and to pretend that his behavior was a deliberate choice, that it came with being The Gravyboat.
But he had never been sexy as far as he was concerned. He got girls sometimes, but they never seemed satisfied with him. They told him when to shower (seemingly all the time), they tried to get him to cut his hair, shave his chest, wear beard-oil, which he thought was preposterous, and even cologne, which he hated.
So he blushed beet-red as he scooped Avery up in his arms and carried him into the back of the massage parlor. His friends laughed, clapped and slapped Gravyboat’s plump asscheeks as he walked past them. Avery laughed too, and one of his arms wrapped around Gravyboat’s barrel-shaped body to hug his thickness close.
In the massage room, Gravyboat put Avery down. It was impossibly quiet back here, once the door slammed shut, the carrying-on in the waiting room now sounding distant and faded. Gravyboat’s smile disappeared. Gravyboat wondered if he smelled bad, or if he looked dumb and unfashionable. Why didn’t Avery choose someone who knew how to pick out clothes? He was surprised that Avery had gone for him instead of Jimmy, whom the girls loved and who always wore impeccable clothing, or one of those black tight ends who danced well and smelled like coconut lotion. One of them had an old dude who jerked him off for money all the time. He says — the old dude says — the cum of a young black athlete will make his own dick bigger and his erections last longer.
Maybe that was true. Gravyboat was still not gonna drink a black dude’s cum. He blushed and looked down at his ugly boxish shoes, which he had to buy at a fat dude’s store.
“Are you okay?” Avery asked. “You look nervous. It won’t hurt, I promise. You’ll like it.”
Gravyboat shrugged. “I ain’t never done this.” He blushed again and bit his lip. “I mean… I’ll do it, I don’t care. Ass is ass, right?” He pounded on his chest and made that warcry again — no dance this time, cuz the massage room was small — the sound prompted whooping and cheers from out in the hall, where some of his teammates listened at the door — but now it sounded forced and weak, at least to Gravyboat himself. They weren’t into it. If you do it too much, the crowd loses interest, Gravyboat had learned that. Always leave ’em wanting more.
Avery giggled. He liked Gravyboat’s machismo being inhibited by his anxiety. It was cute. Gravyboat’s hairy body trembled as Avery pulled his shorts down. His crotch smelled strongly, not bad, but it smelled of fresh sweat and old cum. It smelled like the crotch of a man who jacked off a lot.
That was exactly true. Gravyboat did jack himself off a lot. The women threw themselves at Jimmy and Raython, not Gravyboat and Quinn.
He bristled and firmed up as soon as Avery touched his cock. He jiggled and grunted. Not knowing how to react, he stood motionless, like he was at a doctor’s appointment. He opened his eyes wide, arms forming fists that dangled stiffly at his side. He murmured to himself as his dick got rock-hard right away.
“You sure get hard quick. You must be real horny,” Avery said. He smiled.
His cock throbbed in Avery’s grasp. Gravyboat stared at it like it was disobeying him. He gulped and looked at Avery. “I get girls. I had a girlfriend.”
“I wasn’t implying anything,” Avery said. “You have such a big dick. You must have hurt your girlfriend, huh?”
Flattery seemed to help Gravyboat relax. He grunted his acknowledgment as his dick throbbed. It was thick as a coke can, smooth aside from one clear vein running up the undershaft. Avery liked how it pulsated in his grip.
When it was fully hard, Avery put the tip in his mouth. Gravyboat sucked in his breath, which Avery both heard and felt in his cock twinging. Avery giggled around the meat in his mouth, which he licked and slathered spit on. He ran his tongue up and down the shaft.
“Wait, wait,” Gravyboat covered his eyes with one arm. He shifted his weight on his feet.
Avery did not wait right away. He wanted to make sure Gravyboat felt the pleasure of Avery’s cock on his shaft, as Avery slurped and spat up all up over it. Both of Avery’s hands worked it too. When Gravyboat stilled looked too tense, Avery pulled his mouth off it. He kissed it on the piss-slit. “You have a nice cock.” He thwacked it on his own face. It was so thick and heavy it was like a club, but Avery enjoyed the meatiness of it when it slapped against his flesh.
“This is so weird. Raython does it all the time. He has an old guy. White guy. I think he hasn’t said, oh shit, my god, shit, so like, his name is Raython, he’s the one out there with… I don’t know, what, a shirt probably it’s cool but anyway he’s okay, he’s okay, Raython is, what was I saying. Raython Lake. That’s his name. The black guy, I don’t know the white guy’s name. I guess maybe he’s not white, I don’t know. Raython just says he’s ‘my old guy’. He buys him beer and stuff. Shirts.” Gravyboat sounded like a man on the verge of exploding. “Uh-uh. So that’s cool. I’m not asking you to buy me anything! I mean, just, I was sayin’, Raython does it all the time.”
Avery wasn’t listening. He stuck his tongue out and ran it down Grayboat’s shaft, then slurped up some of the spit he left behind. Gravyboat’s voice wavered and broke. He gasped.
Once the taste of salty precum hit Avery’s tongue, he knew Gravyboat was ready for the next step. Avery turned around and bent over. Gravyboat stood perfectly upright, chest as he pretended he wasn’t nervous. He was glad Avery’s ass was smooth and hairless, like a girl’s.
“Oh…” Gravyboat grunted in surprised as his manhood slipped into Avery’s ass. He was expecting it to be uncomfortable — the girls he had fucked in the ass had been small and delicate and unsure about Gravyboat’s size and his willingness to go slow, so those experiences had not been entirely successful. He had never had someone take charge of forcing his uncut cock into their tight asshole before. He just stood there like an idiot, arms flailing in mid-air.
Then he slapped Avery’s asscheek and groaned. He blushed, thinking it was too weird to touch Avery’s ass. But he couldn’t stop himself. It felt so good to spread those cheeks and give himself better access to Avery’s tight hole, which he drilled into inexorably. Avery’s cheeks even jiggled kinda, not exactly like a girl’s but not entirely unlike a girl’s. Gravyboat was glad to not have a girl telling him to slow down every few seconds. He was glad that Avery didn’t even consider backing out because his dick was too big or because his breath smelled like garlic fries.
He had intended to remain like that, standing upright, so he didn’t have to touch Avery. But as his orgasm approached, Gravyboat found himself losing his inhibitions.
“Open that ass up, damn…” His voice was hoarse and monstrous, he thought, and it caused Avery to shudder.
That wasn’t actually his voice that made Avery shudder, it was his cock, sending sparks of sensation up Avery’s spine. He was adept at taking big cocks, but Gravyboat’s was exceptionally thick, and it filled him up in a most delightful way. Avery intended to make loud orgasm sounds to embarrass Gravyboat in front of his friends, but it turned out to feel so good he didn’t have a choice. He made those sounds by instinct, and he cried out for more.
Finally he wrapped one of his broad arms around Avery’s face, and they both went down to the ground. Gravyboat didn’t mind. The idea of rutting on the floor was nasty and raunchy and perfect. Avery was too enthralled by the intense pressure in his ass to even consider the location important.
Gravyboat’s chest rubbed against Avery’s smooth back as he slammed his cock in and out. He was aware of his teammates peering in through the door, shushing each other and running away when they caught a glimpse. Someone even threw something at him, maybe a paper airplane? He was too engrossed in Avery’s ass to go look.
“Ah, fuck!” Gravyboat roared. He pounded away at Avery’s ass, using his entire body to drill Avery into the massage room floor. Avery was only dimly aware of the discomfort and pain that resulted, because his prostate exploded in intense pleasure.
Avery barely even touched his cock before an orgasm erupted within him. He moaned, the sound drowned out by Gravyboat’s baritone bellow. He writhed, biting his lip so hard he drew blood. Cum flew into his ass, while Avery shot his own jizz too, onto the floor.
So much cum filled him up that Avery could do little more than lay there and bask in the glory of creamy heat seeping into him. The puddle of cum on the floor from his own load coated his belly.
As he shot his wad, Gravyboat didn’t stop fucking. He kept grunting, the sound breaking, interrupted with moist exhalations as he slathered spit over the back of Avery’s head. He gripped Avery in a tight chokehold, making it hard to breathe.
“Fuck, broh, take it, don’t move, don’t move.” Gravyboat’s voice was plaintive and desperate. His hot breath condensed on Avery’s cheek. “Shit.”
They were both motionless for a moment. Gravyboat’s cock shot another wad of cum, a final jet of heat seeping into Avery’s guts, and Avery felt it trickle out of his ass. It puddled up on the floor of Avery’s massage room.
Then all at once, they both fell limp. Gravyboat landed on top of Avery, plopping there, his dick limpening inside him. Avery was utterly unable to breathe, or tell Gravyboat to get of. He couldn’t even squirm.
He wasn’t upset though.He exulted in the feel of Gravyboat’s muscles enveloping him, the musk of his unwashed body potent now that he was covered in fresh sweat.
“Shit, man.” Gravyboat coughed. He got up, his dick plopping out of Avery’s ass. “Shit… Shit, man.” He took a deep breath.
Avery sat up, heaving for air. He was exhausted. He had never been taken a dick that felt that good. He stood on uneasy legs. “Thanks,” he said weakly.
Gravyboat nodded. His swarthy face was crimson from both embarrassment and exhaustion. He thought if he said anything, his voice might break, so he was quiet. He put his tattered jockstrap on without bothering to clean his cock off.
Jimmy stuck his head in the door, but kept his eyes aimed upward so he didn’t see anything. “Did you bite his head off, Gravyboat?”
“No. He was a perfect gentleman,” Avery said. He smiled at Gravyboat, who walked out carrying his clothes. He wore nothing but that jockstrap, which was soaked to transparency with the fluids that clung to Gravyboat’s cock. Gravyboat sniffled like he didn’t care as his teammates howled and slapped his hairy asscheeks, which were bare, cradled by that jockstrap. Those two black guys, Raython and Easy, were still dick-to-dick because Avery never said they could stop sword-fighting, and they still avoided looking at each other.
Jimmy furrowed his handsomeness in Avery’s direction. “Really? A gentleman?”
Avery nodded. “He was perfect. You can send me men like him anytime. I’ve got plenty of happy endings to give out.”

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.