featuring black men – Page 2

The Inmate

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

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

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

The Basketball Team

Lance is teaching financial literacy to some basketball players when they have trouble concentrating… they need someone to service their manly needs, and Lance is eager to help out. Can Lance keep their attention long enough to finish his presentation?

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

“Okay, guys, I know this isn’t fun,” Lance said. “But it is important. You won’t be able to play basketball your whole lives, so the money you make now needs to work for you for a long time to come.”
The team sat in front of him in the locker room. Lance would have rather done this in a more formal environment, but Coach Thickman had said that if you take the players somewhere else, like Lance’s office, after the game, a lot of them will sneak away. ‘You gotta git ’em when they still in the locker room’, Coach Thickman had said.
“Alright, before we talk about your options, let’s go over some terminology,” Lance said. “First off, risk. I’m sure you all use the word risk, but in finance it’s a very important concept. All investment is about balancing risk, and-” Once he got into the flow, he could tune out any distractions. He had perfect tunnel vision for this presentation. After having given this exact spiel plenty of times, he had it more or less memorized.
But he was mid-monologue when he realized most of the team wasn’t paying attention. They were either on their phones or chatting with each other, and one was distractedly rolling a joint as though it required all his concentration. None of them even seemed aware that they were supposed to be paying attention to Lance, like they thought he just came here to monologue about finance in an empty locker room and was willing to do it around them. Lance’s voice trailed off.
“Hey, gentlemen, shut up!” Coach Thickman barked, his voice weary and glowering. He jumped in front of Lance and meanmugged at the players. They did shut up, but they glared at Coach Thickman, whose broad, bare chest gleamed as he stared his team down. “This is an important presentation, and y’all gots to hear e’ry word of it.”
A long pause followed. Lance wasn’t sure if this was normal, or if the players were seriously challenging Coach Thickman’s authority. Thickman furrowed his brow in expectation of utter obedience and furrowed it deeper when the players looked at him like a crazy person for telling them what to do. A few rebellious snickers underhushed, and someone muttered, “Shut that ol’ nigga up.”
“Get’cha butts in the sauna!” Thickman said. “Now!”
The players groaned but stood. They clucked their tongues against their teeth as they sauntered away. More than a few glared at Coach Thickman and licked their teeth, punching fists into the palms of theit other hands, but they all did as told.
They didn’t move quickly though. They sort of sauntered in, all except for the one white player on the team, who hurried in first. Lance wondered if this meant his presentation was over.
When Thickman barked at the others, they hustled into top gear. “I ain’t say mosey into the sauna like sleepy glaciers, did I? I said get’cha booties in the sauna right now, pissheads!” They darted into the sauna, and all conversation stopped.
Lance blushed and bristled. Was that it? Did Coach Thickman think Lance was so useless as to make the presentation irrelevant? Lance was surprised how little of a chance he got. He hadn’t grabbed their attention in the first thirty seconds, and Coach Thickman had just given right up? That didn’t seem fair.
Then Coach Thickman’s hefty hand clasped Lance’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, hoss, they don’t wanna pay attention to nobody. You can give your spiel in a sauna, right?”
“Uh… in a sauna?”
“They’ll be naked, you comfortable wit’ that? You ain’t gotta be naked too. I mean… you can’t really go in there in a suit, you gonna get heat stroke fo’ real. But you can go in there in yo’ drawers,” Thickman said, walking away. “They won’t listen anywhere else. Too many distractions.”
Lance’s heart started pounding. He certainly didn’t mind hanging out in a sauna with a bunch of naked basketball players — Lance was a keen admirer of the male form, so he would enjoy that very much. He’d never given his financial-risk spiel in his underwear though. Would they mind if he was in there with them? What if he got a hardon?
The boisterous chatting of the players made it easy for him to find the sauna, which was at the far end of the locker room. Lance folded his clothes and left them on the bench outside the sauna. He kept his boxer shorts and a t-shirt on, since he knew his body would look pitiful in comparison to the players’s. He wasn’t in bad shape, but he was skinny and short by comparison.
“Yo, Coach, where dat white man at? My balls is stickin’, nigga! I gots bitches beggin’ me to come over, man! Let’s hurry dis shit up!”
When Lance walked in, one of the players — Trent Wyatt, a power forward — was standing right in front of the door, stark-naked, pantomiming aggressive action, he must have been who was bragging about bitches through the closed door. He bucked his hips into an imaginary woman, his thick cock flopping with every thrust of his body. His toned ass was dappled with sweat from the humid air of the sauna.
They all stopped laughing at Trent and looked at Lance. Everyone was quiet for a second.
Then Trent said, “So I told her it’s s’posed to hurt, you s’posed to bring along a girlfriend to lick yo’ pussy at the same time. Ain’t mah fault women hate you too much to get on that girl-girl trip wit’ cha.” That made his team burst into laughter all over again.
It finally died down after a minute or two, and the men all looked to Lance. He blushed, both from embarrassment and from overheating in the crowded, steamy sauna. Trent moved out of the way so Lance could address the whole team. Lance’s bare chest gleamed with sweat.
“Okay, guys, this is really important,” Lance said. “I know it feels like you’re gonna have this income forever, but you won’t. You can’t play until you’re old men. You-“
“But we’s gonna have sponsorship deals and shit, right?”
“Uh, well, some of you probably will, but not all of you, and that won’t pay like-“
They all cheered and clapped their hands as if that ended it. Lance waited until they were done before speaking again.
“That won’t last as long as you think, guys. Unless your name is Michael Jordan-“
But they weren’t listening again. They were talking over his words, bragging about what they intended to do with the money when they finally got it. They spoke of buying islands, of mansions around the world, servants by the fleet and yachts by the flotilla.
“Hey! Hey! Hey, guys!” Lance yelled until he had their attention again. “Please, y’all, let me get through this. You’ll make enough to retire as long as that money is wisely invested. Not in boats or tropical islands, but in income-generating assets. Who knows-“
“I got some income-generatin’ assets waitin’ for me back at the crib,” said one of the players. He chuckled a deep, raspy laugh, and the others joined in with him. “She about this tall, and she got a ass that ain’t nevuh quit.”
The door to the sauna opened. Coach Thickman barged in. The players all fell silent at once. Their eyes were downcast, avoiding contact with either Lance or Coach Thickman. Thickman wore his sweatpants and a sleeveless shirt, and his shirt became soaked in sweat from the steamy sauna.
“Hey, you goddamn shitwads, shut yo’ fuckholes and listen up! Cuz I know from personal experience that at least a half-dozen of you gonna call me in the next year, and be all ‘oh Coach Thickman, I spent all my money at a casino in Vegas and buying high-class whores fo’ mah niggas and now I needs you to pay mah child support or else I’s goin’ to jail and can’t play next month.’ And I ain’t havin’ that. Not even a li’l bit, nah,” Coach Thickman said. He crossed his arms over his chest and frowned. “Put yo’ jockstraps on anyway. Mr. Williams here don’t wanna look at yo’ wingwangs.”
“Reckon he does…” someone said.
Lance didn’t see who said that, but it was obvious that someone had guessed he was into that. It was hard to hide his interest surrounded by jocks. Lance had managed to avoid getting a hardon, but it must have been apparent from the expression on his face and his body language that he enjoyed the physiques of the men around him.
“Hey! Nah!” Coach Thickman barked. “Don’t accuse the nice white man of nothin’.” When some of the players nodded their agreement, Thickman paused. He looked at Lance and raised his eyebrows. Lance blushed. The players hooted. Thickman frowned. “Okay, well, maybe, but still, you best shut yo’ mouths til he finishes his talk.”
“C’mon, old nigga, we got this,” Trent said. He stood up and wagged his dick, swaying his hips to make it slap against each thigh in turn. “Y’old man…”
Lance’s eyes were drawn to Trent’s massive cock. It was nearly a foot long and thicker than Lance’s forearm, and it was moist from the humid air, so it gleamed, the dark skin of Trent’s shaft practically glowing in the well-lit sauna.
“Hey all y’all shut the hell up,” Thickman said. “The league says you gotta listen to this white man’s speech. You gotta have financial advisement, fellas. Tomorrow I gotta fill out a little piece of paper and send it to the league. It’s gonna have the name of every nigga here — and you, Dirk — every nigga who listen up about finances. Whichever motherfucker ain’t on that list, ain’t gonna be playin’ till next season. Got it?” No one spoke, not even Dirk, the token white guy. Then Coach Thickman cleared his throat and opened the door. “So all you niggas best shut the hell up. And you too, Dirk. Listen good.”
“Thanks for rememberin’ me, Coach,” Dirk said with a laugh as the door shut.
For a moment all was silent. Lance was nervous. He felt like a bad substitute teacher who needed the teacher from the classroom next door to keep his students in line. Everyone looked at him.
The heat had begun to get to him as well. His underwear and shirt were plastered to his skin with sweat. Lance cleared his throat. “Okay, well… I’m going to assume that you guys know absolutely nothing about financial investing. That’s probably not true, but I don’t know what you do know, so-“
“Yo, math nerd!” Trent called out. “Nobody gives a shit. We all know what to invest in.”
“Do you?”
“Yeah,” Trent said. “I gots a recording studio, man. I got-“
“You have a recording studio? Does it make a profit?”
Trent paused. “I mean… I got an idea for a recording studio. Alright?”
“What’s that?”
“It’s a place you record-“
“No, I know what a recording studio is. What’s your idea for one?”
“Gonna record all the rappers in town, man, all of ’em. I got connects with everyone around here, man. Ain’t gonna be Crips-only or Bloods-only, gonna get ’em all.”
“No you won’t,” Lance said. The sauna was silent for the first time since he had walked in. “You won’t get a single one. Recording studios are one of the riskiest businesses out there. The major record companies can offer multiyear, multimillion-dollar guarantees. You won’t be able to match that, and in any case, recorded music is barely profitable to begin with. Even if you win, you’ll lose money,” Lance said. “You know you’ll have to hire a dozen sound engineers to run that properly right?”
“I can do that.”
“Cuz your multimillion dollar salary from the league is paid out over a couple years,” Lance said. “Those sound engineers are gonna start costin’ you thousands a month on day one — they aren’t cheap. They demand salaries. They demand a guarantee of a job — they won’t move from here for some basketball player’s month-long whim. You’re gonna have to guarantee them a job, one that pays as much as your job is gonna pay. And you know what? They won’t sign up a single rapper. In addition to spending all your money opening a studio and spending all your time hiring sound engineers, you’re gonna have to spend all your time signing those rappers. Oh, and I almost forgot, your professional basketball career will take up essentially all of your time,” Lance said. “I’ve seen hundreds of athletes try to open up a recording studio. You know how many have made a profit?” He paused for effect. “Wait… fuck that, you know how many actually built a functioning recording studio that created at least one actual commercial recording? Zero. Not a single one. Fact is, it’ll take like a third of your salary over the next ten years just to build the recording studio, that’s before you buy any equipment for it, hire anyone to work it or start recording a single song. Again, there’s no money in recorded music anyway. You’d be better off opening a bar that books live acts.” Lance paused. “But don’t do that! Bars are an awful investment!”
There was a long pause. Everyone looked at Trent, whose eyes were downcast. Lance blushed. He hadn’t meant to go off on a rant like that. Every athlete he spoke to these days wanted to open a recording studio, and it was a dismal failure every single time.
“I’m sorry,” Lance said. “But really, I want you guys to succeed. You will be making enough money that you can retire. You can have fun in a recording studio. You can give money to your friends. You can buy jerseys for the little kids in your old neighborhood. But first you have to learn about mutual funds, not fantasize about glamor businesses. The most profitable businesses are boring, behind the scenes things, companies you’ve never heard of.”
Lance cleared his throat. He had their attentions now, but now he was so sweaty — and a bit horny — that he had trouble remembering his spiel. He closed his eyes and went over the beginning again in his mind.
“Okay,” he said. “Let’s talk about a few words you should know. Who can tell me what inflation is?”
“Yo, I’m too horny fo’ this right now,” said one of the players, a light-skinned man with a handsome face and bouncing dreadlocks. “Trent was talkin’ ’bout his bitches ‘fore you walked in, and now I can’t stop thinkin’ ’bout ’em.”
Another player jumped in. “Plus you made me think about girls. Who’s gonna see that new Sally Anne Whitaker joint, huh? I’s ’bout to bust mah nut just thinkin’ ’bout that bitch. She gimme stiffies for real.”
That caused another bout of laughter and boasting from the players. This didn’t last very long, however, before Trent yelled for silence.
“Hey, y’all niggas shut the hell up. If we let ‘im finish, we can all go fuck our bitches,” Trent said.
“Let’s just ram ‘im, he obviously wants it,” said a player. Lance couldn’t tell who it was who said that, but as soon as he did, Lance shuddered a little. Then he smiled as they all laughed — it was obvious Lance wanted it. That comment helped to shatter the awkwardness of the situation.
Everyone fell silent, waiting for Lance to respond. Lance couldn’t think of anything to say at all, he couldn’t bring himself to get on his knees and start servicing them all, even if that’s what he wanted to do, and he couldn’t remember how to continue his presentation. He was utterly dumbfounded, couldn’t agree, couldn’t disagree, couldn’t do anything but stand there in his boxers like a nerd.
“Alright, well let’s do it,” Trent said. He jumped to his feet and approached with his cock in hand. He gave it a stroke. His team chittered, as though they thought he was all-talk.
Lance dropped to his knees. He had a feeling this was going to turn out to be a big prank, like Trent was going to throw a cream pie in his face instead of his cock, but he couldn’t just decline.
“Go’n nigga, damn!”
“Throat the honky down, Trent!”
The other players oohed and aahed, which turned into whooping and hollering when Trent fed his dick down Lance’s throat. He had a cocky smile on his face like he was glad to be the most adventurous player on the team.
The taste of sweaty cockmeat overwhelmed Lance. This was all happening so quick that he gagged on the flavor, then began excitedly deep-throating. Trent’s cock was only just starting to firm up, but he swallowed it as deep as he could get it, making the other players cheer and laugh. He nestled his nose in Trent’s thick pubic bush.
“Lemme in there, nigga,” said one of the other players. He thwacked his cock against Lance’s cheek. Trent grumbled, but he didn’t say no, not even when their cocks glancingly touched each other, which made both men wince and look away. Both looked like they would have objected, but nobody wanted to get called out as squeamish by the others.
Lance moved from Trent to the next player, Jashwan, a tall and lean thug who sneered at Lance. He gripped Lance by both ears and began plowing his face. “Take it, bitch, you little nerd, damn…”
“Force it down that bitch’s throat!”
“Lemme in there-“
“-feels like a shallow pussy-“
“Damn, honky got throat, yo!”
They were in a circle around Lance now, and they laughed as they passed his head between them. Each person grabbed him by the ear, pushed their dick into his throat until he gagged, then passed him onto whoever was next.
“Damn,” that Jashwan Mitchell said, “I ain’t nevuh had a whiteboy on mah dick ‘cept a prison bitch. They actually handle a dick pretty good when you ain’t forcin’ it.”
His teammtes all laughed, but stopped just a moment later when someone shot his load already. It was a burly, mustachioed black man named Deontay, who appeared to be embarrassed at cumming so soon. He sprayed his load right over Lance’s face and a little even got on Trent’s cockshaft before he pulled away.
“Yo, I oughtta beat yo’ ass fo’ that, nigga! You got yo’ cum on me!”
“Damn, that nigga lasted about three minutes…”
Trent’s anger vanished as the rest of the team laughed at Deontay, who stroked his limpening cock like he didn’t notice them guffawing at him. His creamy cum dripped into Lance’s mouth as Lance licked every drop off.
“Taste sum white meat now, honky!” said Dirk, the team’s only white player, causing a burst of hilarious laughter from the others. He rammed his dick in Lance’s mouth. Lance got the distinct impression that this was Dirk’s first time with a man, and that he wouldn’t have agreed except everyone else did and he didn’t want to be left out. His dick was soft, but it jerked to full attention once Lance started working on it.
Soon enough Dirk was in the same circle as the others, laughing as they pulled Lance from cock to cock. Precum coated Lance’s tongue, the salty flavor combining with the general air of sweatiness in the cramped sauna. He loved that taste, and he licked the sweat off their heavy scrotums.
“Hey, let’s bukkake the math nerd!”
It was Trent’s idea, but everyone was into it. They thought the idea was hilarious, and no one asked Lance if it was okay with him. It was, of course, but it would have been nice to be asked. Also, Lance wasn’t a math nerd. He was a business nerd, and he used to work as a merchant marine and even a lumberjack, but it didn’t feel like a good moment to bring that up, and his mouth was full of dickmeat.
“Oh, nasty! This sauna gonna get real gross real quick!”
He loved it when guys painted cum all over his face. That was precisely what center Khyree Pankhurst did just a moment after they agreed to bukkake. He grabbed Lance by the forehead and sprayed cum all over Lance’s face.
It dripped over his body as Lance jerked Khyree’s dick until it was totally limp and had no more cum dripping off the tip. He thought that was it, that no one would touch his face now that it had cum all over it, but the next player to go was Lamar, the one they call a prettyboy cuz he had Nickelodeon dimples and few tattoos. Despite his prettyboy face, he had no compunctions about smearing jizz over Lance’s nose and cheeks with his dick, which he then jacked off into Lance’s mouth. When he came, he pulled out to spray his nut all over Lance’s already cream-coated face.
“Damn, that nigga touched that cummy face! Fuckin’ gross!”
“Buncha little babies,” Lamar grumbled as he stepped away. “How y’all ever gangbang a bitch if’n you ’boutta explode every time you get a little nut on ya?” He wiped semen from his fingers onto Lance’s shoulder.
After Lamar, the men burst one after another in quick succession. They cared less and less with every passing second about touching each other’s cum. Two of them even shot at the same time then, both big pulsating shafts resting on Lance’s face as he stroked them off with both hands. Their fleshy cocktips touched as they sprayed salty seed over Lance’s face.
“Nigguz make a mess, damn!”
Then came Dirk, who blushed as he approached. He definitely avoided touching Lance’s face, right up until he actually orgasmed. He closed his eyes and his dick twitched until it touched Lance’s lips. A big ball of sticky cum dripped there, touching Dirk’s finger and cocktip.
That made him shudder in disgust. Even with his eyes closed, Dirk could tell what was happening, that his cock was touching other men’s cum. His discomfort made it obvious to the other players as well, and they laughed away the awkwardness.
“White man gettin’ nasty too, nice!”
It was Trent who approached with his cock, still rock-hard since he had been saving himself to go last, and wrapped one arm around Dirk’s still-orgasming shoulders. “Come on, whiteboi,” he said. “Don’t tell me you never gangbanged a bitch befo’?”
Then Trent put his limp cock on Lance’s face right next to Dirk’s throbbing white member. Dirk blushed and gagged in disgust but didn’t complain, even as Trent’s ropy muscles left a layer of sweat over his body and Dirk’s cock dribbled the last of his cum all over Trent’s cockshaft.
“Lookit that whiteboi blush, he ain’t nevuh jousted dicks befo’, huh?”
A part of Lance felt bad about making Dirk uncomfortable — the rest of the team acted as though no man had ever become an adult without jousting cocks in someone’s mouth — but Lance was so aroused he couldn’t resist. He took both cocktips in his mouth at once, mashed them both together and flickered his tongue in both pissholes.
“He’e it cums, white man, you gonna taste this fo’ real…”
Before Dirk could pull away, Trent had his own orgasm. He sprayed his load all over Lance’s tongue and teeth, and Lance kept his mouth moving so the entire wad of nut coated Dirk’s limpening cockshaft. Lance sucked it up, then spat it out over both Dirk’s and Trent’s dicks then sucked it up, then spat it out, and he only stopped when they both pulled away.
Lance sat there for a moment, savoring the feel of cum covering his face. He barely even noticed that he was masturbating himself, not until that moment, when he shot his own load onto the floor.
“Ew, nasty-ass pervert, gettin’ his own nut e’rywhere!”
Pleasure undulated through his body, along with a potent sense of shame as the team laughed at him. He blushed and looked down, embarrassed even as an incredible orgasm washed over him. He laughed with the others though, as they swatted dicks and flicked jizz at each other.
At last it was all over. Lance slowly licked all the cum off his face as the players wiped their dicks clean, breathing heavily and speaking quietly — their boisterousness was mostly gone now.
Lance rose to his feet. “Uh, okay…” The men all laughed at his awkwardness.
“Go on, man,” Trent said. the whole team fell quiet. “We need to know this shit. What is inflation anyway?”
“Yeah. When you’re done, can we do that again? I’ll be ready to get hard again,” said Lamar.
Lance blushed and smiled. He gathered his breath. “Absolutely,” he said to throngs of cheering. “And if you want… every time you come to my office to talk about your options, I’ll jerk you off again.”

Gettin’ Dome at the Barbershop

Desmond cuts hair in his barbershop, and he often gives his studlier customers a “happy ending”… But when one encounter with a wannabe rapper leads to a hit song name-checking Desmond’s oral skills, this downlow arrangement becomes more out in the open than Desmond expected! That leads to a series of man-on-man encounters with some of the toughest and handsomest alpha male thugs, ex-cons, jocks and even strippers around!

Read it now as an ebook!

The Truck Stop

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

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

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

Thug Punishment

Avery is a personal trainer for the legendary ex-con Thumper White, when Thumper sets up for him an outrageous alpha male punishment scenario like Avery’s been dreaming of!

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Avery thought his new client was going to be a pain in the ass. He was a rough-looking middle-aged black man, a former pro boxer supposedly. He had argued with and fired two personal trainers already. Rumor had it that he had spent the last thirty years in prison.
He introduced himself as Thumper, and he had a big smile on his round face. He was covered in crude tattoos and muscles, with a thick layer of padding. His tats were faded, maybe prison tats. Avery felt small and weak in front of him, and his knees buckled under Thumper’s withering gaze. He had a simmering intensity that made Avery both uncomfortable and warm, a-thrum with desire. Thumper’s broad chest muscles rippled, already dappled with sweat because he had been on the treadmill before Avery arrived.
“You still like what you see?” His pecs bounced.
“Oh, you… uh, yeah, I think you’ve got a lot of potential. We can work on your abs-“
“Nah,” Thumper said.
A long, terse silence filled the air. Avery thought Thumper was going to say something else, but he didn’t. Thumper pointedly waited. He sniffed, then grabbed at his crotch to scratch his balls. His thick cock was briefly outlined by his shorts, and Avery felt his knees grow weak. A burst of unwashed convict musk hit Avery’s nostrils.
Thumper grinned. “Spot me, man.” He got down on the bench press machine.
Avery began counting along with Thumper’s lifts. One. Two. Three. Normally as he counted, Avery would give some helpful advice, tips or encouragement, but Thumper’s shorts still outlined his cock and Avery couldn’t tear his eyes away. It was so big, like a kielbasa, and his shorts were so thin Avery could see the veins of his cockshaft through the fabric.
When he finished the first set, Avery nervously said, “So you don’t want to work on your abs?” Truthfully he just wanted to get between Thumper’s legs to hold his feet down, but most men were ab-focused, so Avery thought Thumper might want to work on that.
Thumper shook his head. “I’m too old to worry about that. Ain’t gonna get six-pack abs anyway. So it don’t matter,” he said. “You got a quiet back room or something?”
“Uh… not really. I mean the locker room is pretty quiet-” Avery stopped himself because he realized Thumper wanted a private spot. Thumper licked his lips and Avery’s knees went weak. Avery blushed. “I mean… There’s a sauna. No one’s probably in there this early in the morning. We could lock it-“
“There ya go,” Thumper said. He gestured towards the back of the gym. “Lead the way, man. As you go that way, practice making a face like this.” He demonstrated an open-mouth face, complete with his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek to simulate a cock.
Avery walked into the steamy sauna, glad to see that no one was in there. He quickly locked the door behind Thumper. “This won’t really give us a lot of privacy. The door’s not supposed to be locked, it’s not safe. If someone on staff sees it-“
“Hush up, boi,” Thumper said. He got real close to Avery, so his broad chest touched Avery’s lean torso. The body heat emanating from Thumper wrapped Avery up, and he backed himself up so his shoulders rubbed against the firmness of Thumper’s body.
“Uh-“
“Say yes, sir.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You my trainer, right? You work for me? You call me sir.” Thumper’s voice was a low throaty growl that made Avery’s heart flutter.
“Yes, sir.”
“You wanna jerk me off, boi?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then get on yo’ knees and do it.”
Avery sunk to his knees. A part of him was still worried he’s get in trouble, but not a big part of him. He desperately wanted Thumper’s cock.
He reached up to pull down Thumper’s shorts, which were soaked with sweat and moisture from the humid air here in the sauna. But Thumper swatted his hand away.
“Nah, boi. Use yo’ teeth,” Thumper said. He smiled cruelly down at Avery, who shuddered.
Avery gripped Thumper’s shorts with his teeth and pulled them down. It was difficult to get enough leverage to do so, but when he did, and he saw Thumper’s stiff cock jump out at him, Avery was more aroused than he had ever been.
He swallowed the tip of Thumper’s dick. He tried to jack him off at the same time, since Thumper’s dick was much too big for Avery to deep-throat him, but Thumper again swatted his hand away. The taste was warm and musty, salty from sweat or maybe precum or maybe that was the unadulterated taste of manhood. Thumper guzzled it down.
“No hands, Avery,” Thumper said. That was the first time Thumper had said his name, and the way he muttered it like he had never said the word before made Avery shudder with anticipation. Thumper spat, his saliva landing right on the base of his dick. “You can go deep, right?”
Avery nodded without taking the cock out of his throat. Precum filled his mouth. Thumper groaned and began bucking his hips, pushing his dick gently down Avery’s throat. It wasn’t violent, it was more of a gentle grinding motion, like Thumper was making love to Avery’s throat.
Thumper said softly, “I been locked up a lot. I got experience turning every hole I see into a pussy. That’s what yo’ throat is to me. A pussy. My pussy. Make some noise, boi.”
Avery tried to hum, but that triggered him to gag. He fought against it, but then Thumper gripped his head and pulled him off his cock. Thumper leaned down, his face suddenly angry and accusatory. Gobs of spit connected Avery’s mouth to Thumper’s shaft, which throbbed, dripping precum onto the floor. His dick was veiny and thick, and it jabbed around on Avery’s face.
Though Thumper’s words hung in the air, Avery was more focused on that cock. It was so big, so thick, so warm and pulsating. Avery chased it with his mouth, but Thumper didn’t let him catch up with it. Instead, he smeared his dicktip over Avery’s face.
“I say to make noise, Avery. Make it loud. You fightin’ against yo’self. Huh? Why you bein’ disobedient?”
“I’m uh, sorry,” Avery said, breathless. Then he added, “Sir.”
“Good. You should be sorry,” Thumper said. He pushed his cock back down Avery’s throat. Avery sputtered loudly, spitting up a torrent of spit that ran down Thumper’s shaft. Thumper smiled.
“Good. Good job, Avery,” he said. “You are doing a very good job right now. I’m gonna give you somethin’ nice, somethin’ I’m sure you are gonna like. Whatchoo think? You want that?”
Avery pulled off, tears welling up in his eyes from excitement and lack of oxygen. “What is it?!”
“Nah. You agree first,” Thumper said.
“I agree!” Avery said without a second thought.
Thumper chuckled. He dragged Avery to his feet and told him to bend over. “Grab yo’ ankles.” When Avery didn’t immediately follow orders, Thumper bent him over. Avery’s ass aimed high, and Thumper spread his cheeks.
This was a position that Avery had never used. It was difficult to keep his balance like this, with his ass in the air and his entire body down near the ground. He held tightly onto his ankles as Thumper pushed his dick in to Avery’s ass. Intense pressure erupted, but also pleasure coursed through his veins. Thumper’s cock awakened every one of Avery’s nerves.
“Take it, bitch! Don’t fight me, don’t try and get away, you stay right there and swallow my dick up wit’ yo’ ass, bitch.”
The awkward position somehow made this even more arousing for him. Avery had to continue concentrating on remaining upright, and he probably would have fallen except that Thumper kept a tight grip on his ass and hips, forcing Avery to remain in position. That meant Avery was at his mercy, as Thumper plowed hard at his ass again and again.
Then one of Thumper’s hands crept around to Avery’s crotch. There wasn’t much space there since Avery was doubled over, but Thumper managed to grip his dick anyway.
“Yeah, whiteboi, take it!”
Avery was shocked. Not many men were willing to give a reacharound. As Thumper’s cock pounded in and out of his ass, Avery writhed, struggling to let Thumper stroke his dick while remaining in the position Thumper demanded.
“Grab yo’ ankles!” Thumper barked every time Avery was unable to stop himself from letting go. Avery gulped and followed orders. He kept stumbling, as Thumper relentlessly slammed his dick in and out of Avery’s ass. He kept barking orders too. “Make some more sounds, whiteboi. But don’t quit holdin’ onto yo’ ankles, you just hold on tight and keep them knees where I put ’em.”
He was so intensely aroused that Avery barely noticed his own impending orgasm until it happened. Then his whole body bucked and he let go of his ankles, while cum flew down from his cock, sprinkling over Thumper’s fingers and Avery’s body.
“Oh, you gettin’ outta position, huh?” Thumper said. He grabbed Avery by the hair and lifted his upper body, so Avery’s back pressed against Thumper’s chest and his face was right next to Thumper’s. Thumper licked his cheeks as he rubbed the cum from his fingers onto Avery’s face. Thumper didn’t even seem to mind that Avery’s cum coated his face, and soon both men’s features were covered in a bright sheen of cum. It was more apparent on Thumper’s face because of his dark brown skin.
“Don’t you dare kiss me, boi,” Thumper said. Despite his words, moments after that, he did kiss Avery, right on the lips. His tongue plunged into Avery’s mouth.
Avery was shocked again, but he was also distracted as the slick, slippery muscles of Thumper’s body all tensed. He groaned directly into Avery’s mouth, and Avery felt the sound rumbling through his powerful chest.
Cum sprayed into Avery’s ass, a huge, thick load that spread to every corner of his insides. Avery moaned loudly, dimly aware that he heard someone trying the door and finding it locked. Cum dripped down his thighs.
Avery didn’t know how long that lasted. It felt like it may well have been forever. He grunted as his muscles went limp and Thumper pulled out of his ass. Avery nearly collapsed all the way to the floor.
When he opened his eyes, Avery’s blood ran cold. Standing above him, with his arms across his chest, was Jerry Whittock, the general manager for the Cornerside Gym. He was the only management employee whom Avery had no chance of convincing to look the other way.
“Avery,” Jerry said. “Put your clothes on and meet me in my office.” His eyes flickered to Thumper, who smiled, seemingly oblivious. Fluids coated his entire body, a mixture of sweat and cum and spit and more. He flexed his muscles. Jerry ignored him, turned around and left.
“Hey, sorry, man,” Thumper said.
But Avery just blushed, nodded and walked out. Oh well, he thought, that was totally worth it.
He continued to think it was worth it all day. Jerry was furious, of course. He said Avery was being unsanitary, that it was a bad image for the Cornerside Gym, that women would never want to join if they thought that was the kind of thing they might walk in on. Avery didn’t point out that him and Thumper were in the men’s sauna. No women would be in there anyway.
Regardless, Jerry didn’t do anything. He gave Avery a written warning, which is statistically indistinguishable from doing nothing. He didn’t even send Avery home, because Avery closed this evening and Jerry didn’t want to have to stay late enough to do it himself.
There was no point in being mad at Thumper for getting him in trouble, but Avery was still irked by that. So when Thumper knocked on the Cornerside Gym front door a few minutes after close one night, Avery wasn’t about to let Thumper in now. He shook his head at Thumper through the glass door.
That was when he saw that Thumper wasn’t alone. There was a half-dozen additional black thugs behind him, each looking angry. Thumper himself had a cruel grin and a determined look on his face. Thumper pulled out his phone, and moments later, Avery’s own cell phone rang.
Did I ever give Thumper my phone number? I don’t think so…
He heard catcalls and threats from the other men with Thumper, their voices barely audible through the door but clearly audible through the phone. They were laughing at him through the doorway, calling him a snitch and a “little bitch”. Avery’s heart started pounding as he wondered whether he should call the police.
“Yo,” Thumper said. He sounded confident and stern, but not menacing. “Avery. I know you got in trouble for what happened. So I was gonna make it up to you, man. I was gonna do somethin’ real nice for you.” He paused and held his hand up so his buddies would fall silent. “But instead you had to be a little snitch… Now don’t worry, since it’s yo’ first-time, this is only a warning. We’s gonna come in there, and we gonna ramrod you in every hole you got, homeboy. That’ll be yo’ warning. If it happens again, well… This’ll happen again, but in prison, and for the rest of your life. Now let us in, homeboy.”
His tone made it obvious what was happening. Avery was excited — Thumper had set this up for him to say thanks. Thumper had sensed that Avery wanted nothing more than to be violently penetrated by a bunch of his thuggish friends. Avery’s hostility vanished. Thumper smiled, his cruel visage vanishing; his friends couldn’t see his face, so Thumper crossed his arms over his chest such that his body language was hostile and menacing, but his face said, let us in, we’ll have a good time.
Avery opened the door. He had to suppress a smile, but luckily the other gangbangers were not really paying much attention. It seemed they expected to see a terrified Avery, so that was what they saw. Avery was legitimately afraid, even if he was also excited.
“How we gonna do this, Thumper?”
“Let’s punish that snitch!”
“Alright, homeboys, we gonna destroy this whiteboi,” Thumper said. He placed one hand on Avery’s shoulder, and squeezed supportively. “But we can’t hurt ‘im too bad. No leavin’ marks, homeboys, or he just gonna squeal all over again.”
Thumper led them all into the locker room, and the shower area. Someone turned on the water, so hot steam filled the air. Thumper pushed Avery to stand next to the shower, with his face in the water stream. That made it hard for Avery to hear as the others all took off their clothes.
Avery didn’t need to pretend to be scared. He was terrified, excited, aroused and trembling all at once.
“Wreck that snitch, Thumper!”
Thumper wasted no time in slamming his dick into Avery’s ass. He hooted and pumped his biceps as he did, and he pulled Avery out of the water. Avery gulped and blinked his eyes open, sliding to his knees along with Thumper.
“Make ‘im squirm!”
“Now, we gonna mess you up, boi…” Thumper muttered, spitting directly into Avery’s ear.
The pain in his ass was intense, but Avery could feel pleasure mounting as well. His whole body throbbed in Thumper’s arms. Thumper slammed his dick in hard, ramming it in and out as the hot shower water pooled beneath their bodies.
“Damn, Thumper, you ruinin’ that ass!”
“Alright, let’s have a snitch party,” Thumper said. “Rupert, come here and make ‘im eat yo’ ass.”
Rupert was a tall thug with dreadlocks and a Jamaican accent. He sneered at Avery, whose heart pounded. It looked like Rupert would have beat Avery up if Thumper weren’t here to stop him, and that thought send a thrill up Avery’s spine.
“Eat mi bum, snitch…” Rupert said, his lilting accent echoing in the shower. He turned around and bent over, long dreadlocks dangling over the side of his body. He spread his asscheeks, which were plump and thick even though his body was lean and lanky.
Avery dived in. He didn’t remember to look unwilling, but it seemed no one noticed. They flogged their limp dicks as they watched and hooted out encouragement.
“Ew, he doin’ it! This snitch is nasty as fuck!”
Avery’s tongue lapped at Rupert’s ass, snatching up every drop of sweat he could find. He stimulated Rupert’s prostate, which sent a shiver of desire up Rupert’s spine. Avery could tell that made Rupert hard even if he was facing the wrong way to see it.
Avery was so involved in the rimjob that he barely noticed Thumper guiding his hands up to other men’s cocks. They all had huge cocks, big enough that Avery wondered if Thumper had chosen them based on cock size. Avery stroked someone off with each of his hands as he licked Rupert’s ass.
Then Rupert turned around without warning. He slammed his dick down Avery’s throat, laughing as Avery gagged. He had an incredibly long cock, and it was already dripping precum from the rimjob.
Avery was so focused on slurping off Rupert that he didn’t realize the cock in his right hand was nearing orgasm, not until whoever it was pushed his cock in next to Rupert’s. He felt its heat pulsating against his lips as both shafts mashed up next to each other.
“Shit, you double-teamin’ that snitchin’ bitch!”
Rupert growled and said something Avery didn’t catch, all the men were being so loud right now he could barely make out any words — but he gathered that Rupert didn’t like touching cocks. Nobody seemed to worried about Rupert’s comfort, however, as cum flowed into Avery’s mouth from both dicks, the one he had been jacking off and Rupert at the same time.
They were trying to bukkake him though, so neither sprayed right down his throat. Instead they burst their loads all over Avery’s face.
“Ugh, damn, homeboy, you got yo’ nut on me!”
“Fuckin’ hell, this is sum nasty-ass shit, Thumper, can’t believe you talked me into this.”
Somebody else took Rupert’s place, Tyrell Brickley. Another big black cock invaded his throat, and Avery slathered spit up and down it. By this time Avery had lost count of how many different dicks had blown their wads on his face. They began taking turns on his mouth, jabbing their dicks in just long enough to get hard and make Avery choke a bit, then pulling their cocks out.
None of them seemed to mind that Avery’s face was covered in cum, so they were touching each other’s nuts with their dicks and sometimes even their fingers.
“Makin’ snitch soup on this bitch’s face! Gonna make him slurp that shit up!”
Meanwhile Thumper remained right behind Avery, with his fat cock in Avery’s ass. Thumper was close enough that Avery thought he must have gotten some cum on his face as well, but Thumper either didn’t notice or didn’t mind.
When a thug nutted, nothing changed — the other men kept slapping their dicks over Avery’s face even as their buddy coated their meat with his seed, and then they used their shafts to smear it around on Avery’s lips.
“I bet you wish you ain’t snitch now, huh?”
The taste of cum was intense, and only grew with every passing moment. Avery had never experienced anything so hot, and so delicious. He desperately wanted to lick his face off, but he didn’t. He let them spray and spray until there was no corner of his face that wasn’t covered in hot cum.
Since they didn’t stop smacking Avery’s face with their dicks even after they came, Avery didn’t notice that they were done until he saw that everyone was limp — everyone except Thumper. He was still in Avery’s ass, slowly grinding like he wanted to save himself for the end.
Then he stood up and pulled his dick out. Intense relief flooded Avery, whose ass had grown numb anyway. He could still feel little spermies covering his face and dripping down his body onto the shower floor.
“Make ‘im nasty, Thumper!”
“Ass to mouth! Ass to mouth!”
Thumper smiled cruelly and smacked his dick over Avery’s face. His throbbing hard dick sopped up a mountain of cum, huge gobs of it sticking to his shaft.
“Damn, Thumper, that is some nasty shit!”
Avery opened his mouth even before Thumper was ready. Thumper’s sweaty balls plopped in first, and Avery sucked every drop of fluid from there. Then he kept his mouth open as Thumper aimed his dick right in to Avery’s throat.
He tasted deeply of cum already, since his dick was coated with it. But Thumper ignored that and rammed his dick all the way in. Avery gagged and the other thugs all cheered. They clasped Thumper on his naked back, so close together that Avery could see their floppy cocks brushing up against each other. Either no one noticed or they didn’t care.
Thumper shot his load moments later, grunting and heaving as his wad flowed right down Avery’s throat. He had a huge dick, heavy balls and thick nut, creamy and hot. It tasted sour and sweet and savory all at once, making Avery so aroused he shot his own load into his hands.
Luckily it seemed none of the thugs around him noticed that Avery was jacking himself off — that would surely have tipped them off that he wasn’t the unwilling snitch they all thought he was. He wondered how often they had treated actual snitches like this.
Thumper pulled off. He spat on Avery’s face. “You learn yo’ lesson, snitch?”
“Yes, sir,” Avery said. He didn’t have to force himself to gag when Thumper withdrew his dick, and he gagged again just at the thought of so much cum still clinging to his face.
Thumper reached down and touched Avery’s cheeks. He wiped his hand over Avery’s face, covering his fingers in cum. That much was apparently more than the other thugs expected, because they all clutched each other and hooted like they had never seen something so incredible.
“Damn, Thumper you are one nasty old nigga!”
His hands were callused and firm. Avery licked them clean, and again he didn’t need to force himself to gag. He sucked up every drop off Thumper’s dirty hand, and then when Thumper turned around, Avery kissed his asshole as ordered.
“Give it a nice sloppy kiss, snitch, and then we leave you alone,” Thumper said.
Avery collapsed into a sweaty mess on the floor. He was spent and exhausted. The other men all interpreted it as fear and self-loathing, and they all wagged their dicks in his direction as they put their clothes back on.
“Twenty minutes, bitch,” Thumper said. “You ain’t allowed to clean up for twenty minutes. You sit there with our nasty on yo’ face and think about being a dirty snitch. You can clean yo’self up after twenty minutes.”
They all walked out, leaving Avery there alone to gather his breath. He didn’t know if Thumper had any way of verifying that Avery waited twenty minutes, but he had no intention of disobeying anyway. Avery loved the bukkake all over his face, and he would have stayed there all night if it hadn’t dried and gotten crusty eventually.
Instead Avery waited until the twenty minutes were up, then took a shower. He was surprised to find Thumper waiting for him out in the main room. Thumper grunted.
“You okay?”
Avery nodded. “Thanks, that was-“
“Shut up. I wanted to make sure you was okay,” he said. “I just might have some more homeboys in the future who wanna punish a snitch. You ready to be that snitch?”
“Hell yeah.”
“Good.”

The Gangbang

A hardcore gangbang porno shoot gets out of control before an old-school fluffer is brought in to help out. Can Rob save this nasty interracial video shoot?

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Rob was excited as he walked onto the set. He showed up on-time, but none of the talent was there yet. That didn’t much surprise him. He was let in by a mouse-faced white man with a balding head. He checked Rob’s name against a list, and he initially said no after a cursory glance.
“You ain’t on the list.”
“I’m supposed to be, I swear,” Rob said. He momentarily wondered if Thumper had lied to him.
“Look, this ain’t that kind of movie. You prolly got the wrong address,” the bald man said. “This is a gangbang flick. Black guys and a white chick. You ain’t a black guy, and you ain’t a white chick.”
“I swear, I’m on there as a fluffer.”
“Fluffer? We ain’t had fluffers since they invented that little blue pill,” the man said, then he glanced back down at the list. “Oh, wait… You’re on here as Mr. White’s ‘personal assistant’.”
“That’s it. That’s me,” Rob said.
“He brought his own fluffer?”
Rob shrugged. “He said no one’s taking Wiagro anymore.”
“I’ve been shooting porno all week, they’re all taking Wiagro.”
“White guys?”
“What?”
“I mean… in his words… well, I don’t wanna use his wording exactly, but he basically said black guys aren’t taking it anymore.”
“Oh. What? Really?”
“Yeah, something about police brutality.”
“What does Wiagro have to do with police brutality?”
“I dunno. Ask him.”
The bald man shrugged. “Fine. You can’t eat from the craft services table, I’ll kick you out if you do.”
“Okay.”
Rob walked in. The set was made up to look like a dingy alleyway, with trash strewn about and a dumpster nearby. The dumpster was covered in paint that looked like garbage. The set was very well-done, and it seemed like it should smell bad, but all Rob smelled was hand sanitizer.
Near one wall was a table of food — the craft services table, presumably. Rob was too nervous to eat, and the lunch meat looked gray and cheap and room-temperature, so he was not tantalized. The bald man kept glancing at him though, like he was expecting Rob to sneak a few bites.
He soon saw evidence of the woman — not her, but her agent appeared on set and whispered to the bald man, something about her “having some questions about the scene”. Rob desperately wanted to sneak closer, but he didn’t want to get kicked off the set before anything even started.
When the men began to show up, Rob was excited, awkward at first as they all looked at him like he was a benign tumor they had just found. No one asked why he was there. Rob didn’t know if that was because Thumper had told them, or if they just didn’t care.
Thumper was last to arrive. He made eye contact with Rob, nodded, then went straight for the nine other black men who were already there. They milled about in one corner of the set.
After slapping hands with the other nine guys, Thumper lowered his voice to say something important, and they all leaned in. Rob couldn’t tear his eyes away. It sounded like he was encouraging them, almost like a coach or a civil rights leader, and every few seconds he was interrupted by a chorus of uh-huh and yeah, homeboy.
Rob drooled at the thought of bedding these studs, who were the literal embodiments of the black buck mandingo archetype in the national consciousness — these were some of the biggest stars in the industry today.
Thumper White, a middle-aged former convict and heavyweight boxer, had been humping Rob off and on since he got out of prison, and invited him along to the filming of Ten in Three at One Time, an interracial gangbang porn film that Thumper starred in, being filmed right off campus. Rob was skipping class to be here.
Attending a shoot like this had always been one of Rob’s dreams, and this had to be one of the best movies for him to watch. He gleaned from overhearing the crew set up that the ten gangbangers were supposed to “dp her every which way” including double-anal, double-vaginal and double-anal, even supposedly at the same time. He says it’s impossible, he just wants to film them trying.
The girl appeared, flanked by her manager. She was Jaleena Tight, a well-known star in the industry. She was tall, pretty but in a fake, made-up way — Rob got the impression she would be a lot less hot up close and without her makeup on. She looked bored, as if she got triple-penetrated by ten cocks at once every day.
“Alright, let’s get started, come on, guys, over here,” said the director, the bald man, whose name was Gerry. He didn’t look at all excited to be here, Rob thought.
Thumper broke up the huddle. They had all wrapped arms around each other, and Rob was so close he could imagine himself in the center of that circle. His dick jumped to full erection in his pants.
As Gerry ran through the shooting schedule, Rob daydreamed. He couldn’t have assembled a better cast of hardcore thugs. All of the legends in the field were here, including Bryan Plumper, who pretended not to recognize Rob even though he’d been giving Rob reluctant reacharounds every week for months now — Bryan was in desperate need of money and Rob made him agree to regular reacharounds in exchange for cash. Bryan kept that on the downlow though.
Rob was already rock-hard before anyone took their cocks out. He was embarrassed to jack off, so he just let his cock get hard in his pants as the men approached the girl.
“Yo, girl, you look good enough to eat.”
“Look good enough to fill up, ya mean.”
She smiled, though she obviously didn’t much want to be doing this. All ten men talked at once, muttering seductive come-ons to her, interspersed with trashy insults. “Come on, slut, suck my dick” She unzipped the fly of the first man, Bryan Plumper, and his limp dick flopped out.
Bryan Plumper remained one of the top black male stars of porno today, both because of his Hollywood handsome face, his perfect body like a professional athlete, his outrageously huge cock and because of his cocky onscreen personality. He grinned like a jerk as he flopped his dick against her face.
“How my balls smell, ya trailer park bitch?”
His limp cock was still one of the biggest Rob had ever seen. He didn’t want to get kicked off the set, so he didn’t get too close, but he was impressed — it was even bigger in real life than it seemed on his computer monitor.
“Hey, uh… Bryan…” the director, Gerry said. “Uh… Can you get hard?” He sounded like he was surprised he wasn’t already hard.
Bryan shrugged. “Get me a better girl, and I will.” He frowned at the girl, who blanched but didn’t respond. She licked his dick slowly, but not in a slow, seductive way, just in a sloppy, bored way, as though she was imagining herself licking a popsicle she didn’t much enjoy.
“Aren’t you on Wiagro?”
Bryan shook his head, echoed by the other nine. It was Thumper who spoke up though. He had his dick, half-hard already, sticking out the fly of his jeans. “We ain’t takin’ that no mo’. Ain’t you on Twitter, man?” The other guys chorused their agreement.
Gerry nodded. “Yeah, technically. I don’t do it personally though. I have a Sri Lankan woman who does that for me. What’s going on?”
“The CEO of the company who makes Wiagro is a fucking racist,” Thumper said. The other nine tried to explain it all at the same time, so Rob couldn’t hear what they were saying, but he got the gist of it: the CEO had said that black men killed by the police ‘should have been following the law, so they wouldn’t get themselves shot’.
Did he really say that? Rob followed politics closely and hadn’t heard that one, so he found it dubious — and why would anyone have even asked some pharmaceutical executive about police brutality? The gangbang crew all flexed their muscles at the director, as though Gerry was responsible for it all.
“Okay, okay, okay,” Gerry said, holding his hand up for silence. “I get it, guys, I do. I understand. But you know… we’re shootin’ porno here, right? You have to have a hardon. That’s pretty much a basic rule. You can’t just flop your dick around like a dead fish.”
Thumper walked over to Rob. “We goin’ old-fashioned, Gerry. I brought a fluffer along,” he said. “Get down.”
Rob got on his knees, swallowing Thumper’s cock in one smooth motion. The others all burst into laughter and chatter.
Disappointingly, the other nine made it clear they weren’t going to use Rob to get hard. They all said they could do it on their own.
“I don’t need no sissy, Gerry. I do this the even more old-fashioned way.”
But Rob could see that more than a few were watching him out of the corner of their eyes.
Rob deep-throated Thumper’s cock, putting on a good show for the guys who weren’t focused on the girl — she was still sucking off Bryan Plumper, who was dressed as a pimp and making demands of her. The others all looked away, but Rob could see them glancing over out of the corner of their eyes.
“Yeah girl look up at me when you suck my cock. Go on, go deeper. Deeper, baby, you can do it. It’s okay to gag a little, ain’t nuffin’ wrong with dat.”
When it felt like Thumper was near orgasm, he pulled away from Rob. He hurried over to Bryan Plumper and rammed his cock next to his in the girl’s mouth.
“Hey, homeboy! Ain’t nobody asked for yo’ dick!” Bryan said. He looked at Thumper crossly. If it weren’t for the others laughing at him, Rob suspected Bryan would have punched him.
“Thumper don’t care, homeboy. He old-school like that. He a prison homeboy.”
For his part, Thumper didn’t even seem to notice. He let his dick touch Bryan’s, and the girl sucked on both tips. She didn’t use a lot of tongue, and it didn’t look like a great blowjob. Bryan shook his head. “Old man, you are one nasty homeboy.”
Thumper shrugged. “Whatchoo complainin’ ’bout? We double-teaming this bitch every way, right?”
“Yeah, but we don’t do that any more than we got to. We start off with just some one-on-ones,” Bryan said. His erection had deflated.
“Bryan… What happened to your hardon?” Gerry asked. He sounded frustrated.
“This homeboy’s cock happened to it!” Bryan shouted. He dropped his green pimp pants and turned around. His perfectly smooth, round asscheeks were right in front of the woman’s face. “Come on, lick my ass, bitch. That always gets me hard.”
“No.”
Bryan looked at her through his legs in anger. He had to move his cock and balls to one side to see her face. “What?”
“That wasn’t on the list. I ain’t being paid for a rimjob,” the girl said. She looked away from Bryan’s ass. “Get your ass outta my face.”
Gerry sighed. “Yeah, that’s right. No rimjobs today.”
“You said we was doing it all!” Bryan said. He stood up and crossed his arms over his chest. “You said we was doing rimjobs!”
Gerry shook his head. “I said that was the plan, Bryan. I said that like two months ago. Plans change.”
As they continued arguing, Rob was surprised by Enrico Strong. He was a plump young black man, the one there with the biggest belly, though he wasn’t fat, he just had a lot of muscle and a fair amount of padding over it. He didn’t seem at all self-conscious about it. Enrico was the only one who had taken his shirt off so far, so everyone could see his body.
“Yo, you get me hard, huh, sissy… Huh?” Enrico said.
Rob kissed his cock without answering. He swallowed it all the way down to the root. Enrico looked like he didn’t want to attract attention from the others, who were whacking their limp dicks against the woman’s face. She sucked off each one in turn.
“Yo, this bitch ain’t suckin’ like she need it.”
“Come on, bitch, deep-throat that shit. You just playin’ with the tip.”
Then Enrico pulled away from Rob and shoved in between the others. He didn’t seem to notice — or didn’t care — that his dick leaked precum on their thighs as he squeezed past them to shove his dick in her throat.
“Finally!” Gerry said. “A hard cock.” He looked to Rob and raised his eyebrows. Rob nodded. Gerry cleared his throat. “Okay, everybody — everyone but Thumper and Enrico, I mean — go on and let the fluffer get you hard.”
Rob opened his mouth wide. He smiled proudly. He had fantasized about these porn stars off so much, and now it was actually happening. “Oh shit, I ain’t think we was gonna do it, but this sloppy-ass slut is not doin’ it fo’ me.” First was Justyn Dong, a tall, lean man with a tight little face, not especially handsome, though he had a nice body and a huge cock.
There was a little blood flowing through his cock already, and when Rob sucked it down, it quickly perked into life. “Damn, this punk know how to do it right” Justyn fed his dick down Rob’s throat. He lightly slapped the side of Rob’s throat as though that helped it go down.
“Okay, come on, Justyn, let’s go. Y’all need to learn how to use a fluffer. You just get hard, then come over here and fuck a little,” Gerry said. Justyn mockingly saluted him as he left Rob’s mouth and returned to the set.
“Alright, slut, you ain’t had nothin’ yet.”
He was replaced by Tyrell Brickley, a local, and Steel Lexington, a cool, fashionable homeboy, who wore reflective sunglasses still, even though he had taken off the rest of his clothes. He slowly spat onto his rod as Rob sucked down all that sweat, and the other one, the local Tyrell, was mollywopping his dick on both Rob’s face and Steel’s dick.
His dick was thick and veiny, and it soon stirred to life in Rob’s throat. “Fuck yeah, you got that nice open punk’s neck, I like that.” He even lifted his sunglasses over his head as the first few drops of salty precum leaked down Rob’s throat.
Next up was Shortie Nack, a squat young thug with a thick mustache and a plump body, not quite as wide as Enrico’s but with plenty of thickness. “Get ready to choke, alright? My paps always told me if you gonna ramrod a homeboy, you gotta show him who’s boss. I know you ain’t a homeboy, but I think the same principle apply even more to honkies.” Rob deep-throated his dick and licked his sweaty nutsack as he enthusiastically agreed.
Then Shortie took Rob by the ear, held him in place, and rammed his cock down Rob’s throat. His gyrations were so intense Rob choked loudly, and Gerry yelled at Shortie to shut up.
“Can’t help it, Massa Gerry, this’s the only one I’s uh-know how to use his dick, suh!” He laughed as he left Rob’s spasming face to join the gangbang. He looked back longingly at Rob, whose features were bright red from both embarrassment and lack of oxygen.
After that was Mr. Markum, the only one there who actually looked like a nice guy. He had deep dimples and a round face, and he smiled a lot, even as he nervously let Rob swallow his cock. He didn’t quite have a six-pack, and his fat dick pulsated in Rob’s throat.
“This is actually my first time lettin’ a man on my meat. Ain’t that bad, really… Works too, he gettin’ me hard in no time.”
As Mr. Markum went back to the girl, Rob swallowed down Baron Hung. He whacked his dick across Rob’s face before he let himself get fully hard. “Just wanna make sure you see this meat before you gag on it some more — you worship it, huh?” Rob’s throat was already too full to answer. He let his eyes say yes as he choked on the entire ten inches of black cock in his throat.
Wesley Gripes came next, second-to-last. He was possibly the oldest, Rob thought, or maybe roughly tied with Thumper. But while Thumper was a burly thug with a few gray hairs appearing on his chest and head, Wesley had a smooth, hairless body, and a few wrinkles on his face, but otherwise didn’t look especially old. “These other homeboys don’t even know, man. But I do. I was makin’ porno when these homeboys was in diapers. Back then, we always had fluffers, and they was always sissies. Or sometimes just some homeboy who piss me off, so I tell him he gotta be my fluffer fo’ a day. Lemme spit in yo’ throat, bitch. He took his dick out and spat a thick wad of saliva right down Rob’s throat. Rob choked and gasped for more. “I wish I could stay, bitch, but that bitch over there wants me, and I’s gettin’ paid fo’ that.”
When Wesley walked away, spit dripping from his dick, the only one left was Bryan Plumper. He sneered down at Rob and crossed his arms over his massive chest, still pretending he didn’t know Rob. He had a huge rod, so big Rob thought it might be the first cock in his life he couldn’t deep-throat.
At least one of the other gangbangers chuckled as though they didn’t believe him, but Bryan didn’t acknowledge it. He took a deep breath and whacked his limp dick over Rob’s face. He put the tip in Rob’s mouth, then stopped himself.
“Nah. I can’t do this,” Bryan said. “You gonna eat my ass, bitch.” He bent over on all fours, putting his face on the ground and his ass wide in the air. He wiggled his hips as though waiting to get a dick up his ass. “I was lookin’ forward to a rimjob today.”
Rob dived right into his ass. He plunged his tongue deep in Bryan’s ass.
“You see, bitch? You should do this, take a fucking lesson from this punk,” Bryan said, chuckling. He repeated himself until the girl angrily said she heard him. He moaned passionately, so loud he grabbed attention from the guys who weren’t currently getting in position to start fucking the girl.
Finally, his cock hard, Bryan got up and raced over to the girl. She was sitting on Mr. Markum’s cock, easing into her ass. Without a word of warning, Bryan pushed his own cock into her pussy. His balls touched Mr. Markum’s as they both began fucking her.
The woman was limp, as though she had been double-penetrated so often she barely noticed. Bryan roared and flexed his biceps as he pushed inside her.
“Yo, Bryan, can you get your balls off me?” Mr. Markum said. His voice was muffled because he was under the girl, who was herself under Bryan’s heavy body.
But it didn’t sound like Bryan even heard his words. He kept fucking the girl, slamming his dick in with each powerful thrust of his hips. Each time, his balls hit Mr. Markum’s, making a sweaty, moist slapping sound that all the other gangbangers groaned at. All except for Thumper who kneeled down to get a better look at their balls slapping together.
“Man… homeboy! Bryan, homeboy, hang up for a sec,” Mr. Markum said, louder. “You keep touchin’ my balls and shit, man. That’s gross. I hate balls.”
“Yeah, I’m ’bout to lose my erection. This bitch is too loose,” Bryan said. “Where’s that fluffer at?”
Gerry sighed. He obviously didn’t want to keep interrupting the shoot for this, but he motioned for Rob to get in there. “Don’t take your dicks out, guys. Come on, we got a lot to shoot today.”
Rob hurried into the shot and put his head between Mr. Markum’s and Bryan’s hips. It smelled like assholes and ball-hair, he thought as he licked Mr. Markum’s balls first, then Bryan’s. “Damn, he gettin’ in there! That is a fuckin’ expert move right there!” They were both deep in the girl’s body, so their cocks were not visible, and their hairy scrotums overlapped. Rob licked each ball separately at first, then opened his mouth so wide he could get all four in at once.
Bryan grunted, and the sound was palpable through his balls, which made Rob moan with pleasure. Bryan said, “Damn… I ain’t think ball-lickin’ could make me get hard.”
“Yeah, that’s nice, I like it when you move your tongue,” Mr. Markum said. His balls crawled up in his sac as his dick got hard inside the girl.
“Okay fluffer, come on out of there, they’re hard,” Gerry said.
Rob was disappointed, but he crawled away. He needn’t have been upset because he hadn’t even taken a deep breath before someone shoved a dick in his mouth. He soon saw that it was Steel Lexington, who just rammed his dick in a few times, then moved to the girl’s mouth.
A few yards away, outside the current shot, Rob saw Thumper and Wesley Gripes laying on the floor, facing each other before they laid on their backs. Their thickly corded legs wrapped around each other’s bodies as they scooted so close that their dicks touched.
Thumper didn’t seem to mind, but Wesley was grossed out. “Ah, damn, yo’ dick feel like a damp sponge, Thumper. This shit is nasty.” His dick immediately fell limp. Rob crawled over to slurp on his meat. Their cocks together were as thick as a fist, Rob thought, he’d be impressed if she got them both fully in her ass.
But he took both dicks in his mouth just to get Wesley hard, as Thumper was still rock-hard anyway. Rob pleasured both cocktips at once, and he flicked his tongue in and out of Wesley’s pisshole. He couldn’t believe he was jerking off the Wesley Gripes!
“You real nasty,” Wesley said. He curled his lip up and stuck out his tongue.
The girl walked over to Wesley and Thumper. She moaned in pain when she sat on their cocks, straining to get both in her asshole. “Oh shit, she got ’em in her ass, this girl a nastiness champion.” Wesley gave some of the guys dap from his position on the ground.
While she worked two dicks into her ass, Shortie Nack got his own dick serviced. He looked on at the scene, watching the girl strain to get two dicks inside her. Rob swallowed him down to the root, then did the same for Baron Hung. Their dicks tasted like pussy now.
They both moved onto her mouth. She was concentrating on taking both dicks in her ass, so she didn’t really suck, just left her mouth open while they rubbed their cocks together on her lips. “Alright, bitch, you got four in you, now, two in the mouth, two in the ass. You got five more to go!” The men all laughed as they reached in to touch her tits.
Enrico and Bryan were next. Enrico let Rob lick his dick for a few seconds, but he was still half-hard, so he was ready right away. He got on his knees and pushed his dick into her pussy, while Bryan Plumper bent over in front of Rob. He grunted.
“Don’t fight me, bitch, take this dick, like the slut I know you is, whore.”
Rob licked his asshole until Bryan was hard again. His musty ass-flesh tasted like sweat, and his dick was hard almost right away. He stayed at it until Gerry yelled at him to hurry into position. He even lifted one of his legs and shook it like a dog.
So the girl had Wesley and Thumper in her ass — both of them on the floor on their backs, cocks jammed in together. Shortie and Baron flopped their limpish dicks on her face, joined soon by Mr. Markum, whose dick was half-hard. Her face was entirely concealed by the three limp cocks covering her.
“You look so nasty with three dicks all on you, slut, so fuckin’ nasty. What would yo’ daddy say if he saw you right now?”
Enrico was the only one who was seriously humping, shoving his dick into her pussy. Rob didn’t have much experience with vaginas, but he could tell she was loose, and Enrico was having trouble maintaining an erection. But then Bryan got into position.
“Ah, get your ass out of my way,” Enrico said. Bryan had gotten in front of him and slowly lowered his thick body between Enrico and the girl. Bryan’s dick left a trail of precum on her tits. His ass was only inches from Enrico’s face, and his cheeks rubbed against Enrico’s belly as Bryan slid down to her pussy.
She already had two cocks in her ass, so the positioning was awkward. Bryan’s feet were planted wide, on the far side of both Thumper’s and Wesley’s thighs. His asscheeks spread, baring his hole right on Enrico’s chest.
“Ah, fuck, I lost it! Fluffer!” Enrico shouted. “There’s a goddamn asshole on my chest.” They all laughed nervously.
“That asshole is wet with that sissy’s spit.”
Rob jumped in. He had a feeling the director was about to say not to worry about it — he had said he knew they wouldn’t get all ten dicks inside her at once, after all — so Rob got in there before he could say no. He took Enrico’s balls in his mouth and made a loud gargling sound.
Instantly Enrico’s cock perked up. Rob could feel it in his jerking ballsac. Rob moved between cock and ballsac, having no idea which one he was licking as there were so many down there he couldn’t tell.
But that wasn’t all. There were still two men left. Justyn Dong, who approached Rob and put his dick in his mouth, and Steel Lexington, who stroked himself off as he waited his turn.
“Yo, Gerry, how we gonna do this?” Steel said. He looked on dubiously. “Ain’t no way I’m gonna get in there.”
“I know, I know,” Gerry said. “Just try. I wanna shoot you guys tryin’, y’know, jousting as you get it in there.”
Rob moved from Justyn’s dick to Steel’s and back again. Steel took off his sunglasses and sighed. “I ain’t gettin’ paid enough for this,” he said. He looked to Justyn. “You want the pussy or the ass?”
Justyn shrugged. “Uh. Pussy, I guess.”
“Oh shit, this is one for the record books.”
Steel nodded. He was rock-hard again, and he approached the girl from behind. Gerry moved the camera down to catch it as Steel mounted Thumper’s chest. Steel’s hairy ballsac even touched Thumper’s skin when Steel poked his dick at the top of the girl’s ass.
“Damn, sorry, homeboy, them’s my balls on yo’ belly.”
She already had two dicks in her ass, so Steel could do nothing more than jab at the crowded entrance. He quickly got limp again as his balls dragged on Thumper’s hairy belly, so Rob got in there and licked his cock from behind, while Gerry moved over to film the pussy.
He had to squeeze his head to get at Steel’s balls, and Rob managed to lick them as well as at least one cock and someone else’s taint, he couldn’t even keep track of whose body was whose. And he couldn’t see the girl at all anymore.
“If this bitch wasn’t already nasty, she would be now.”
“Whoever’s balls I’m touching, man… wash yo’ fuckin’ balls sometime, homeboy. Feels like a soggy wetnap.”
“She loose as a goose, mah homeboy. She actually got three homeboy dicks in her pussy right now?”
“Really? You got yo’self in there.”
“Just the tip, but still.”
“Get yo’ asshole off my face, homeboy.”
Justyn had to grip Enrico’s hefty body, and even held onto Bryan’s asscheeks as he jammed his dick into the confused mess down there. He actually got his dick just slightly in, though Rob didn’t think anybody could tell except for him because his head was right there.
As the camera moved back and forth from her ass to her pussy and back, Rob did likewise, licking whichever dicks weren’t in the shot.
“Okay, guys, fluffer, out of the way,” Gerry said. He backed up until he got them all in the shot. “Alright, folks we’re in the home-stretch, hump away. If your dick ain’t in her, that’s fine, just pretend. Nobody can tell from his distance anyway. I just need to get some shots of all ten of you at once.”
“Okay this is it, I’m out, I ain’t doin’ no more gangbang shit after this. This is too fucking nasty, mah homeboy.”
“I know, right? I told this homeboy… years ago when I got started, I told this homeboy you don’t know that I ain’t doin’ nothin where my dick touch another dick. He said okay, but then he made it happen like a hour later. Now here I am eight years later, man, and I can’t even feel this girl. I’m humpin’ yo’ nutsack right now.”
Rob masturbated as he watched. All ten men moved, ten powerful black bodies undulating in sync with each other. The girl was virtually invisible behind them.
“Ah, fuck, I got someone’s precum on my finger.”
“Okay, let’s get ready for the cumshots,” Gerry said.
The men were all relieved. “Finally, shit! I feel like my dick been toyed with all day!” They pulled away, leaving the girl there, looking bored. They were all limp now, except Thumper, so they lined up for attention from Rob.
“Shit, I’m glad to get away from this nasty bitch.”
He opened his mouth and let them plow at his throat like an assembly-line. They took turns, passing him around, and chuckling as he deep-throated every last cock. He was disappointed that he didn’t get to taste their cum, but he loved the one-after-the-other throating he got.
Since their cocks had been touching each other more than her, he didn’t taste much of the girl on them either. Their sour-sweet precum flooded his mouth, and Rob let it wash over his face to at least give himself the illusion of getting the cumshots. He didn’t mind so much, as he got plenty of cock either way.
Unsurprisingly, it was Thumper who came first. He ran over to the girl and shot a load over her face. She gagged a little but then left the cum there, playing with her loose pussy for the camera.
“Paint that slut, homeboy!”
“Here come another! Gonna turn her even whiter…”
“Direct hit!”
Thumper then let Rob play with his limp cock while the other guys shot their load on her. One by one, they brought their spent dicks to Rob to be licked clean. So he got to taste plenty of cum before the scene was complete. By the time the last man was done, Enrico, Rob’s throat was well-lubed, and the girl’s face was covered in cum.
“Alright, that’s a wrap,” the director said. He clapped. “I wasn’t sure we’d get through this, but we did it.” He clasped Rob on the shoulder. “I should hire you for all my shoots from now on. You’re better than Wiagro. Write down your email address for me, man.”

On the Run

Lamar is on the run from the police, so he’s staying in the barn of redneck Demarcus… When Demarcus comes to him at night, Lamar finds ‘on the run’ just might mean ‘on the downlow’!

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Lamar wondered if he should have just turned himself in. He would have ended up serving twelve to fifteen years in prison, but he could have gotten through that. He would have been treated like a king behind bars because he refused to snitch.
Instead, he ran. Lamar had always been fast, so he got away from the cops that night in downtown Baltimore.
But then what? He was going to be a fugitive for the rest of his life. They had his fingerprints. He even considered burning them off, but he figured that would be suspicious — who but a fugitive would be walking around with burned-up fingertips? Besides that, they had a picture of his face too, and they could probably find a DNA sample without too much difficulty.
Was this going to be the rest of his life? He was staying in a barn — an actual barn — behind Demarcus’s house. Demarcus was one of Baltimore’s most powerful Bloods. It was Demarcus who had arranged this and figured out a way for Lamar to sneak out of the city in the trunk of some white bitch’s car.
The only mitigating quality that made Demarcus’s run-down old house reasonable was that it sat on several acres of former farmland, which was dotted by barns and unused stables. Trees were slowly taking over the fields, giving plenty of obfuscation. It was an ideal spot for someone like Lamar to hide out in.
So the barn was where Lamar stayed for now. Demarcus said he’d be able to move into the house once things quieted down, but for now they needed him to be well away from the road, away from any prying eyes that might happen by. The barn wasn’t awful. It was green, the paint outside peeling. A few holes in the ceiling let in light and rain, but Lamar hoped to find a tarp and a way to get it up on the roof to block the holes.
It all seemed copacetic until that first night, when Lamar tried to sleep on the air mattress Demarcus had given him. It was uncomfortable and cold. The air mattress seemed lumpy. How could air be lumpy?
He was grateful for all the help he got from Demarcus, but he was nervous about how sustainable it was — would he be living like this for the rest of his life? What would be the point? He wondered how much extra time he’d get for running away if he turned himself in now.
Footfalls resonated in the rickety barn. Someone was coming in. Lamar sat up, heart pounding. What if it was a SWAT team? Maybe Demarcus had sold him out? Sweat beaded on Lamar’s shoulders.
But it was just Demarcus himself. He carried a flashlight, though he didn’t turn it on, instead using the ample moonlight to illuminate his way. He stumbled through the disused rakes and wheelbarrows, finally making a lot of noise when they clattered to the floor.
“Demarcus?”
“Oh good, you’s up, huh, nigga?” Demarcus said, his thick drawl echoing in the drafty barn, his voice stawkless as a white man. He sat down on the edge of the bunk. Demarcus had thick muscles toned by his own time behind bars, tattoos decorating his densely-scarred brown skin, including a deer with a target on its head tattooed over his chest. He seemed even larger and more menacing now, wearing only his plain white boxers in the humid air of this Virginia summer night. Demarcus was young but seemed old to Lamar, or maybe it was the other way around.
“Yeah, I, uh… I guess I’m havin’ trouble sleepin’ tonight,” Lamar said. He felt young and stupid. He was almost nineteen, but he felt like a child again, like he was asking Demarcus for a glass of warm milk.
“Reckon you just need to make this barn ya own,” Demarcus said. “Make it into a home ‘stead of a place to lay ya head.”
“Yeah.” Lamar was too nervous to think about this right now. Besides, the best way to feel like this place was his home would be to maintain control over it, and that meant scolding Demarcus for coming in without knocking. Not being in charge of it was what made it feel like not a real home. But he couldn’t very well get angry with Demarcus for coming into his own barn.
“That’s how I got through prison. When I first got the’uh, I thought I’d never sleep in that tiny, scratchy-ass bunk,” he said. He placed one hand on Lamar’s smooth shoulder, and left it there. “But once I hung up some pictures and y’know… jacked off in those sheets a couple times, it felt like home. You pickin’ up what I’m puttin’ down?”
“Yeah,” Lamar said, though he very much did not.
“It helped that my entire cell was Bloods. I felt like I was livin’ wit’ my brothers.”
“Really? Cool.” Lamar felt too nervous to really pay much attention.
“Hell yeah, we got through that togethuh. That’s how a brothah do,” he said. He wiped his forehead, which was soaked in sweat. “Do what it takes, nigga!” Demarcus laughed as though that was a joke. He drunkenly lolled and leaned back against the wall of the barn. That moved his hand from resting on Lamar’s shoulder to his back, and Demarcus’s entire arm weighed him down. Lamar couldn’t decide what that meant — was it possessive? Was he trying to seduce him?
“I ain’t know you was in prison,” Lamar said. “How long were you in for? Which prison was it?”
“Shit, it’s bettuh if we pretend we ain’t shared nothin’ personal. I don’t officially know you’s a fugitive, by the way.”
Lamar nodded. He bit his lip, unable to think of anything to say that was not a question.
“I was behind bars for four years, nigga. I still on parole, reckon, I got three more years, so I gotta keep my nose cleaner ‘an a Virginny hog,” Demarcus said. “But don’t worry, I still a banger at heart. We gangmates, Lamar, you and me. We brothahs too, in a sense. You feel me?”
“Uh… yeah.”
A long awkward silence filled the barn. Lamar was intensely aware of Demarcus’s arm resting on his back, fingers caressing the skin there. Demarcus breathed heavy, and the sweat clinging to his skin added a spicy, salty scent to the air. His fingertips rubbed the divot in the small of Lamar’s back.
Lamar decided to roll over to lay on his back — definitely on the back, not on his belly, which would bare his ass in Demarcus’s direction — Lamar had been around the block, he knew better than to present his ass to a booty bandit outta the penitentiary. He hoped laying on his back would make Demarcus lift his arm up and maybe move it away.
But much to his surprise, that wasn’t what happened. Instead Demarcus rested an arm on either side of Lamar, then leaned down and kissed him on the lips. He tasted like cigarettes and cocoa butter.
“Hey, do you and ya niggas still jack off on the downlow?” Demarcus asked. “Back befo’ I got locked up, e’ry nigga did that-“
“I mean, no! Not all of ’em! Of us, I mean…”
“Y’all niggas jack yo’selves off? Wit’cha hands? Like a teenager?”
“I mean, yeah, prolly, kinda, maybe,” Lamar gulped and faced away from Demarcus. Why did rednecks act like this?
“What about you? You ever mess around? You know, get a nut off wit’out no female to draw it out…?”
“Well…”
“I thought so, pretty face like you. Ain’t no nigga e’er smash you?”
“No!”
“Guarantee some nigga want to. Guarantee that!” Demarcus said, with a loud cackle and guffaw, then a slap upon his knee. He kissed Lamar again and pushed his tongue past Lamar’s lips. It was a long, slow, moist kiss that ended when Demarcus lifted his head, smiling as his hands caressed Lamar’s shoulders. “Don’t worry, what happens in the barn stays in the barn.”
“Is that a real rule?”
“It is in this barn. The green barn is where that kinda shit happens, the kinda shit you city boys call ‘on the downlow’,” Demarcus said. His kisses moved down Lamar’s neck and chest, and he even sucked on each nipple as though expecting to find a breast. His dick poked out the fly of his boxers, rock-hard already, and it jabbed into Lamar’s crotch.
Demarcus mounted Lamar’s face. He didn’t pull down those thin white boxers — which Lamar was now certain were prison-issue underwear — he just aimed his dicktip down from the fly and pushed his dick right into Lamar’s mouth. The taste of male meat assaulted his tongue. Lamar sputtered as musty flesh overwhelmed his senses.
Thinking Demarcus was about to lay atop him, making for an awkward sixty-nine, Lamar submitted. He didn’t like the taste of cock, and he hated being on bottom during a sixty-nine, because he ended up with big sweaty balls flopping against his nose and face. It seemed to happen most of the time when he sixty-nined with his niggas.
But he could live with that, as once he got into it, once his own dick got hard, Lamar could ignore the smell of manmeat on his own nose. Good sex, even with a clean woman, didn’t smell nice either, as far as Lamar was concerned. You oughta smell like a pig in heat.
Lamar wrinkled his nose. He was trying not to think about barnyard animals right now.
In any case, this didn’t turn out to be sixty-nining, because Demarcus never opened his mouth. He bent over Lamar’s body, slamming his dick into Lamar’s throat and placing Demarcus’s own head on Lamar’s legs, just inches from his limp cock. It seemed like he was going to open up and take it.
But that didn’t happen. Demarcus didn’t open his mouth except to moan as his dick leaked precum into Lamar’s throat. He humped his crotch on Lamar’s face, and those heavy balls kept slapping against Lamar’s nose, sending wafts of ball-scent and kinky pubic hairs into his nostrils. Lamar clasped Demarcus on the asscheeks to signal Demarcus should do his part.
Lamar hadn’t even stopped choking on the cock in his mouth before he felt a finger exploring his ass. Demarcus chuckled as Lamar squirmed. Demarcus’s finger didn’t penetrate him yet, just squeezed underneath his legs and played with the rim, which sent waves of both intense pleasure and awkward pain up his spine.
Demarcus pumped his hips over and over, keeping his dick in Lamar’s throat even as he choked around it. When he pulled out to let Lamar take a deep breath, Demarcus rubbed his neck affectionately. His callused middle finger remained on the rim of Lamar’s asshole, but Demarcus didn’t quite shove it in.
“Good nigga, you got it, you doin’ just fine. Won’t make you pay no kinda rent like this,” Demarcus said through gritted teeth, as though Lamar’s mouth made him angry. “Young niggas don’t know nuffin’ ’bout showin’ respect. No nigga e’er made you take a dick b’fore?”
“No!” Lamar said, barely managing to spit the word out past his precum-choked mouth.
“He should. They used to, when we was growin’ up. Cuz undercover pigs ain’t nevuh swallow dick, they wouldn’t do that,” Demarcus said. He didn’t wait for a response before pushing his dick back in, and in that same moment, plunging his pinkie finger into Lamar’s ass. “Guess it’s all ’bout bein’ a real man now, ain’t no room for helpin’ ya gangmate out. That’s some bullshit.”
Lamar squirmed and yelped around the dick spasming in his throat. The taste of ballsweat clinging to his face was intense, but even as he disliked it, he couldn’t help but admit the passion was getting to him. He had been feeling like a dejected loser since running from the police, so it was nice to feel a little lust and desire, even if it wasn’t ideal. Demarcus moaned as pleasure rolled through him, and he caressed Lamar’s skin. It felt an awful lot like fumbling, awkward sex with a woman who smelled bad and was firm-bodied and flat-chested — he had to admit he had done that on more than a few occasions, and this was frankly better than some of them.
Lamar had fucked with some gross women. His niggas made fun of him anytime he turned down sex. He’d had a reputation as a hornball since middle school. He was an early bloomer, and he could never quite live that down. He dated all the girls in high school, when he had been a champion basketball player and the girls threw themselves at him. Not so much anymore.
“I’m-a stick you now, okay?” Demarcus said. He pulled his cock out and, in one smooth motion, moved behind Lamar. He kept both hands on Lamar’s belly, not exactly holding him down but keeping him from moving away. “Don’t worry, I won’t make it hurt, baby.”
If he trusted Demarcus to not tell anyone, Lamar would have been more enthusiastic about this. But he had a feeling Demarcus didn’t really follow that what happens in the barn stays in the barn rule. People took that ‘downlow’ shit seriously back in Lamar’s hood.
A yelp of surprise escaped Lamar’s lips as Demarcus lifted his hips up, leaned down and plunged his tongue into Lamar’s ass. Lamar had only ever had a rimjob from one girl, and she was a nasty slut, so he had never really enjoyed it — it was always more of a theoretical possibility than something anyone might really do. He was especially shocked that Demarcus would do it to him.
His dick spasmed and leaked precum even though no one touched it. He was so aroused he thought he might cum just from the tongue delicately prodding his prostate. Demarcus seemed to know exactly how to do it right.
Again passion overwhelmed Lamar. Twinges of sensation sparked up and down his body. He gasped and writhed beneath that tongue, which seemed impossibly huge, somehow stimulating every inch of Lamar’s insides.
“In prison, I had a magic tongue,” Demarcus said with a grin. “I had niggas payin’ me ten fuckin’ packs of cigarettes to get my tongue in they ass.”
That image made Lamar grimace. It reminded him that he could end up in prison — that could be him next, he thought, and looked away. He was surprised that someone like Demarcus had willingly licked ass like that, but the rules for that kind of thing changed once you got into prison. Booty bandits and old heads get touchy-feely with a nigga, Lamar had learned that multiple times since graduating from high school.
But it had never been like this. He was throwing his head back, pushing his ass at Demarcus’s face. Demarcus was loudly, moistly slurping on Lamar’s asshole, lapping at it like he was going to find a treasure there. His massive mitts gripped Lamar’s sides and held him in place. The sensations his tongue sparked made Lamar cry out for more, every part of his body tensing up beneath Demarcus’s potent pounding upon his tender prostate.
But as he knew it would, the pleasure ended soon enough, leaving Lamar a quivering husk of desire. Demarcus pulled his mouth away from Lamar’s ass, wiped his face off with his hand and separated Lamar’s cheeks.
“You got a cherry ass, doncha, boi?”
Lamar hung his head, not in shame exactly, since it was hardly shameful to have an intact ass. He was just embarrassed to tell Demarcus yes because it was like giving in, like acknowledging that Demarcus was the superior man who could pluck that cherry.
But Demarcus got the answer even without Lamar verbalizing it. He smiled like a victorious invader, spat into his fingers and rubbed the saliva into Lamar’s asshole, again pushing a finger into it as he lowered Lamar’s ass to his crotch-height. He used Lamar’s duffel bag of clothes to prop up his hips.
“I’ll stroke you off too, if you agree to swallow ya own nut,” Demarcus said with a sick smile. “I’ll catch ya nut in my palm and you can suck it down…”
“What?!”
“Sssh, just say yes…” Demarcus said. “I wanna watch you eat nut, okay? Unless you wanna do ass-to-mouth, it’ll have to be ya own. You got a nice pretty face, nigga. It’s gonna look real pretty wit’ yo own cum all over it. Ain’t no shame in tasting ya own nut, okay?”
Lamar’s moan of pain sounded sufficiently yes-like for Demarcus, who smiled again and nodded as he pushed his dick into Lamar’s ass. It was a hot, throbbing slab deep within him, and Lamar’s body bucked and writhed in Demarcus’s powerful arms. He stabbed a symphony of sensations in the deepness of Lamar’s body, making him cry out in agony and in bliss at the same time. Lamar arched his back, shocked that his dick only got harder even as pain wracked his body.
But behind that pain was intense, surprising pleasure. Demarcus had loosened up Lamar’s ass enough with his fingers and tongue that Lamar could take his entire dick with relative ease. It also meant his prostate tingled with sensitivity even before Demarcus’s dick slid past it.
Lamar gasped and held his breath as unimaginable bliss and torturous agony hit him both at once. He rolled his eyes and bit his lip. It would have been so painful he made Demarcus stop except that Demarcus kept on stroking Lamar off, his callused hand jacking his shaft, lubed up by Demarcus’s spit and Lamar’s own precum.
“Yeah, nigga, you got a nice ass, let’s make it bounce,” Demarcus said. He lightly slapped Lamar’s asscheek and groaned when the movement made Lamar grunt, writhe and clench on Demarcus’s dick. His taut little buttcheeks, toned by years of basketball in high school and then more recently in a neighborhood intramural league, rippled with each tap from Demarcus’s meaty hands. Lamar gasped and writhed. Demarcus made some kissy noises and said, “Sorry, nigga, I know that hurt. I won’t do it again, I promise. Gonna make this feel good for ya one way or another.”
Demarcus even wrapped his free hand around Lamar’s neck. He didn’t squeeze, but he kept a firm grip. Lamar writhed beneath his touch, panting and gasping for air.
The pressure in his ass was so intense it was all Lamar could do to force himself to breathe. Both the pain and the pleasure were unbearable, and Lamar couldn’t help himself from orgasmic moaning as he instinctively flailed, hands awkwardly gripping Demarcus’s muscles. He felt his climax coming and tried to slow it down, but Demarcus was in relentless control of his cock and his prostate, so Lamar could only contort as pleasure spasmed through his body.
It was humiliating for Lamar to cum first — only a pussy of a man cums with another man’s cock in his ass, he thought, but he lost control of himself and he didn’t care, he just wanted to blow his load. He moaned so loud he was glad he was in a barn far away from anyone else. He howled and growled, and the aggression he felt was swallowed up by the confident thickness Demarcus keeping him in place.
“There you go, nigga… There. You. Go,” Demarcus said as though he loved watching men ejaculate. You could see the moment when intense pleasure erupted in Lamar’s body, his whole body buckling, knees no doubt would gone weak if he was standing, it was all Lamar could do to avoid explicitly begging for more.
But Demarcus could tell. That was what Lamar wanted. All the young pups secretly wanna get jackhammered by an older man like Demarcus. Even — especially — the ones who militate against it, bristle against an order from an older man, them is who wants it most of all. They wanted the discipline that can only come from a cock ramming its way into a hole that don’t want it. A proper man can force his bottom to enjoy it.
Semen sprayed all over Lamar’s bare chest, coating his six-pack abs and his tight pecs. Demarcus groaned too, as though he had been waiting for this moment. He sped up his gyrations, slamming in and out with each thrust of his hips. He used one hand to sop up all that cum, and he held it up, so they both could see the creamy semen dripping from his fingers in the silver moonlight.
Lamar knew what was coming, but it was still terrifying, and his stomach churned even before it happened. He opened his mouth, and Demarcus brought his hand to meet it. Some of the cum dripped past his lips before Demarcus’s hand got there, so Lamar’s tongue was flooded with semen.
It was intensely salty, powerfully enough that Lamar shocked at the bracing taste. It was creamy like alfredo, and it coated Lamar’s tongue. He groaned in Nelon’s bulging arm muscles.
He choked and gagged, but Demarcus had him suck on each finger. Lamar writhed, his orgasm having never quite ended due to his prostate stimulation, even if his mind was overwhelmed by shame and disgust as he tasted salty cum all over his mouth.
“Gonna clean you up, nigga, cuz that’s what a nigga do,” Demarcus said with a little chuckle that made his dick pulsated in Lamar’s ass.. He leaned his powerful body between over, kissed him on the lips and then licked his cheek. He gagged too when he tasted Lamar’s cum on his tongue and felt it coating his lips, but that didn’t stop from lapping it up like a cat with a bowl of milk.
He had his tongue in Lamar’s mouth when an orgasm hit him as well. His prison-toned muscles all shook and flexed, and he sprayed his load deep inside Lamar’s ass.
“Uh, yeah, take it, nigga…” A warm heat suffused Lamar’s body. He groaned, glad no one could see him writhing while cum covered his insides. It felt like more than any man could shoot, Lamar thought, shuddering, creaminess spreading to every corner of his insides. Each thrust of his hips sent another wave of goop through his insides.
In a moment that seemed to last a lifetime, pleasure sparked through Lamar’s body, the pressure in his ass intensifying the sensations into a tsunami of desire that crashed into Lamar’s mind. His hands curled into claws, as he gasped and begged both for more and for this to end.
Lamar fell limp, numbing bliss spreading from his ass as Demarcus finished filling him up. One final burst of jizz exploded within him, and then Demarcus stopped his gyrations. He paused there, cock limpening inside Lamar’s ass, breath condensing on Lamar’s sensitive skin. Lamar tried not to show how much pain he was in, because he wanted to seem tough, but after a minute or two, he couldn’t bear it any longer. He grimaced and tried to roll away, sending a fresh spasm of pain up his spine.
Demarcus chuckled and pulled out. He smacked Lamar on the bare ass, and laughed again as Lamar spasmed in pain. He leaned down and kissed Lamar’s on the plump asscheek. He gave it a loving caress.
“You got a nice, tight ass, Lamar. I’m gonna love you living wit’ me,” he said. “This’ll be real nice. I’ll get you some lube to keep out here, okay? That’ll make this feel better than you ever thought possible.”
“Oh, uh…”
“Say okay, nigga.”
“Okay.”
“Good,” Demarcus said. “You might be able to stay outta prison, Lamar, but you gonna take it one way or another. Have a good night, nigga. Sleep tight.” Then he walked away, stark naked with those prison boxers in hand as he strode into the moonlit yard. Lamar breathed a sigh of relief that it was over.

Smashwood Trailer Park

Rob is at it again, this time at the legendary Smashwood Trailer Park for an ultra-raunchy tale of redneck, hick, hobo, thug and hillbilly action! It’s filthy… it’s disgusting… it’s gotta be Smashwood!

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Rob Winthrop strode into Smashwood Trailer Park trying to look confident. This was a rough place, and he wasn’t a tough guy. Rob was wealthy, but he hadn’t let on when setting up today’s event. Hopefully nobody knew he was a billionaire. Everyone in the trailer park stared at him surreptitiously, but no one met his gaze.
Smashwood Trailer Park crawled with men. There were a few women too, but Rob could safely ignore them. They would be irrelevant today. Once things got started, they’d probably find better things to do anyway, Rob assumed. That was how it usually happened. And Smashwood was mainly home to single men, this part of it, anyway — the other side of Smashwood was for women and families.
Here was where the single men lived.
A gravel strewn with glitters of glass ran down the way, with a few dirt offshoots leading to tiny cul-de-sacs. The further from the main gravel road, the more rundown the trailers went, culminating in a suburb of sorts of shacks and shanties and lean-tos and cardboard boxes stacked in little palaces of rain-soaked debris, where muddy, unshaved men with wild eyes lived.
He went to the trailer of Baxter Pence, which was on a dirt road but not at the end of one. His was the last proper trailer on this spoke, as it was followed by a burnt-down husk before the trailers became shacks. He glowered at Rob but he opened the door and let him in. Bax Pence was a grungy hick, ropy-muscled and taut like he was hungry — he always looked hungry — with a heavily tattooed body that was very tan because he worked outside — he held up a stop-sign for a road crew — and rarely put a shirt on. He kept a tight wifebeater with him most of the time so he could put it on if he had to go into a store, but he only did that when he needed to. Around here, most stores didn’t give too much of a crap about the whole no-shirt-no-shoes-no-service thing. Bax was so tan he could pass for black if he wore a doo rag.
“Ah, shit, man… Let’s get this over with,” Bax said. “I got shit to do today.” He didn’t reveal what that “shit” was, but it was pretty obvious to Rob — Bax wanted to smoke meth. Or maybe sell meth, but Rob suspected the only reason he might have sold it was in order to buy it and smoke it for himself as well.
He caressed Bax’s ropy-muscled bicep as Bax cleared away some mud-splattered clothes from a small loveseat. His wiry body plopped down on it, and Rob went right to his chest.
He had an amazing six-pack, though it was obviously not because he was in great shape — it was because he was so skinny, he had that meth-addled physique. He even missed one front tooth, and his other teeth were chipped and yellowed. His body was greasy, unwashed for a long time, reeking of sweat and body hair, even though Bax was not hairy.
Rob pulled Bax’s cock out. He put the tip in his mouth and gurgled merrily on the nasty flavor — it was sour and salty, like unclean meat, like a steak you don’t want to eat. But Rob did want to slurp all that nastiness off. Bax’s muscles rippled beneath Rob’s touch. His tattoos were distorted and distended, like they had been done when he was much bigger than he was now.
A few other guys headed to Bax’s trailer, poking their head in but backing off when they saw Bax’s meth-starved body pounding away. No one wanted to seem too eager, so they didn’t line up, they just pretended there was no particular reason to mill around there, yet they did it anyway. They smoked cigarettes and pretended not to sneak peeks inside.
“Ah, shit, boys, he’s doin’ it!” Bax called out. He had decided there was no point in trying to be surreptitious or discrete about it. It was what it was. They all knew what was going on in here. His lithe body bounced back and forth. He wasn’t sure if he still had a hardon at this point, but his dick was in the freak’s mouth, so he was fulfilling his obligation as he saw it. All Bax cared about was getting enough money to buy his next hit of meth. “He best not stiff us, you won’t stiff us, right?”
“I’ll pay, I’ll pay,” Rob said through his moans.
“Oh yeah, Bax’s doin’ it! Bax’s doin’ it!”
“Shut up, man, don’t be a pansy. You’ll be on top-“
“Aw… fuck, there’s no way I’m doing it. I’m no-” That was the young redneck with the blond shaggy mane that was almost a mullet, Cabel Yoder, who kept blushing and looking away but sticking around with a face like someone had a gun to his head. “Aww, man, shit…” He had a big grin on his face. His pecs rippled beneath his sleeveless shirt every time he laughed.
“You sure?”
“You turnin’ down a nut, dude!?”
“Aww, man…” Cabel was clean-cut for a trailer park, in that he had all his teeth and no track marks. He was from a military and firefighter family, and he had some kinda Army crest tattooed on his back, along with rows of thorny roses. His back was lined with muscles. “Should I do it?” His cheeks burned red. He did like getting blowjobs, and he didn’t mind a blowjob from an ugly woman. This was no different, he thought…
Rob’s eyes were bugging out by the time he started to deep-throat Bax, whose cock got hard in his mouth. It was long but not too thick, making Rob wonder if his cock had gotten skinny when Bax started smoking meth just like the rest of Bax’s body got skinny. It tasted grimy, gritty, slimy with layers of sweat caked on, and Rob slurped all of it off. Before he knew it, that Cabel Yoder’s hardon was in his hand too.
“Aaah…” Bax moaned.
But that wasn’t going to happen. He writhed as his cock throbbed in Rob’s mouth. Bax was glad the meth hadn’t ruined his erections yet.
They were all going to ram Rob, all of the men in this trailer park. They were going to do it dirty, they were going to do it nasty, they were going to do it as one massive, multi-man pile-up, and Rob was going to enjoy every moment of it.
Rob got them to do this by promising two things every slice of trailer trash wanted: money and hot chicks.
Or one hot chick anyway: Jaleena Tight the porn star. She had been looking to do some kind of a redneck gangbang movie — they were hot right now — and she needed the rednecks. Rob, a long-time friend of hers, had agreed to provide them, and he middlemanned in the best way he could think of — only those trailer park trash who were willing to ramrod him now would get to gangbang Jaleena later.
So virtually all of them were going to do it. Most of the trailer park was coming in today, from this side of it at least. A couple of married guys from the other side were probably going to sneak over soon, but presumably without telling the wives. This wasn’t the kind of activity wives needed to know about.
“C’mon in, boys,” Rob called out when he sensed Bax was nearly ready to cum. Bax groaned — he had really wanted this gangbang to be more of a serial thing, not all-at-once. He didn’t need all of these white trash fuckheads cumming in his trailer. But that was already happening, with that Cabel Yoder and his buddy Jacob Billyman jousting in Rob’s open mouth, where Bax was smearing his precum on Rob’s tongue.
Rob reached out and pushed the door open, pulling off Bax’s dick for a few seconds to grab it. He thought Bax must have locked it, that was why no one had come in yet.
But the door popped open easily. That wasn’t why no one had come in.
No one wanted to be the first to start. They milled around and poked their heads in, gasping but trying to seem nonplussed when they saw Rob slathering spit up and down the local methhead’s shaft. It throbbed against his tongue, and Rob stroked it with both hands.
“Ah, shit-“
“Nasty-“
It was Cooter — Jethro Wilde — who came in first. He was older than most of the men in the trailer park, and he didn’t see any reason to dilly-dally. That was for young pups. He wasn’t going to be self-conscious, and he’d rather go now than wait for the nasty stranger to be all cum-coated and nasty.
“This the sissy who wanna get gangbanged?” Cooter said with a sneer. He licked his lips.
“Uh-huh, hang on, I’m gonna cum in a sec-“
“Nah,” Cooter said. He had a big hairy barrel chest, with curls of salt and pepper hair extended around the fabric of his sleeveless shirt. He was here laying asphalt this summer, and he had a burly body that was streaked with sweat and a few clumps of gray in his chest hair. There was even some cement that had gotten fixed to his broad shoulders. His sun-wizened face crackled with the layer of fine cement dust that clung to his skin and which flaked off when he moved. His callused fingers gripping Rob’s face to hold it in place.
Cooter dropped his jeans and slapped his dick on Rob’s face. Rob sucked on it too, leaving Bax’s precum-coated shaft to focus on Cooter, who had a nice thick dick, a big ugly knobbly prick that tasted like the sweat that made his chest hair cling to his body.
It was sour and salty and it got hard right away — Cooter didn’t drink or smoke meth, so he got hard easily. Bax was embarrassed by that, in his mind, it was very obvious that Cooter got hard more quickly than Bax did, and everyone who had even slightly glanced in the trailer must have noticed. He didn’t realize that no one was paying that much attention to him.
So he overcompensated by pushing Cooter aside. He meant to push on his thighs — because Cooter stood by the couch Bax still sat on — but he ended up touching his ass. “Get off, man, wait your turn-“
“I’m tryin’-a get off, and don’t touch my ass.”
“No, I mean, lay off him until I’m done, I ain’t cum yet-“
“You don’t know how this works, boy! Ain’t no ‘layin’-off’ until you done, that is the exact opposite of how this works,” Cooter said with a laugh. “Come on in, boys, the water’s just fine! He sucks a treat!” Cooter whooped. A few guys poked their heads in more openly, but no one actually came on in as Cooter had demanded. It was cramped in there, for one thing, and it was impossible to get in without touching Cooter’s hairy body and ass or the masturbating duo of Yoder and Jacob.
“Can you boys double-team my mouth?” Rob asked. He took both dicks in hand, pushed them onto his tongue and suckled moistly, letting Bax’s precum run down Cooter’s shaft. Rob loved mixing fluids from multiple alphas, and the part he liked best was that they acted like it was a betrayal. They both twitched and sneered their faces at each other, as they dicks smashed knobs together in Rob’s mouth.
“Hell yeah-“
“Oh… yeah…”
Actually neither of them were especially keen on jousting. But no one wanted to be the only one to back out either.
“Only pussies get scared of jousting,” Cooter said, eyeing Bax and rather hoping he would complain — Cooter was older and tougher (he thought) than most of the guys here, so he really wanted to demonstrate that today. “You ever done that before, Bax?”
Bax scoffed as though the answer should have been obvious. “Of course, man,” he lied. He gasped then as a pearly drop of precum slipped out of Cooter’s dick and onto his cock. Ah, shit, there’s another man’s cum on me, shit, shit, shit, they gonna think I can’t defend myself…
He was so entranced by that anxiety that he didn’t quite know what to make of the orgasm that hit him hard. His eyes opened wide. His dick was rubbing against Cooter’s older, thicker shaft as he gasped and writhed, pleasure rocketing up his spine. That pleasure came more from the friction of rubbing against Cooter’s shaft than from Rob’s mouth. Bax nervously bit his lip, subduing a howl as his ropy-muscled body twisted on the couch.
Cum sprayed down Rob’s throat, and he guzzled every salty, creamy drop. Another man had come into the trailer now, a scuzzy older man, not quite as old as Cooter, but with a more weathered face and a beard like a hobo. He was in there just in time to see Bax cum and watch all that semen run down Cooter’s shaft.
Cooter came too, soon after that, while the young men Yoder and Jacob needed only a few seconds on Rob’s mouth to add their loads to the mess clinging to Rob’s face. They were glad to get out of there early, before things got too gross.
Despite the sheen of white goob on Rob’s face, that out-of-town stranger with the wild beard came in next. The hobo-beard man— who wasn’t quite homeless — he told everyone he met he was “no homeless bastard” — ignored the stink of jizz in the room and didn’t even seem ot notice Cooter’s jizz spurting onto his leg as he came in. Cooter’s orgasm was loud and animated, sweaty, like a hyperactive coyote.
That bearded near-hobo didn’t realize that no one had rammed Rob in the ass yet (today). He was oblivious enough to not really notice or care that Rob was still sucking the cum off Cooter’s cock and that his ass wasn’t even bare yet.
“Lemme in that ass, bitch…” hissed the near-hobo who didn’t know anybody else here. His name was Ramblin’ Joe — t’was what the whole world always done did call him — and he knew damn well how to ram a goledarned sissy. They want it hot and hard and relentless. He had a jutting square jaw, a crooked nose and two cauliflowery ears, looking like a prize fighter despite his small size.
It was kind of nice, he thought, ripping Rob’s pants down and lifting him up, no need to be nice or gentle, all you had to do was ram. He aimed Rob’s face towards the door to the trailer, dragging him to the floor and jamming his dick in that tight ass even before it was fully hard. It went right on, sending a wave of pleasure up Rob’s spine.
It had been a long time since he had done wreck a booty, so that near-hobo, Ramblin’ Joe, whom no one knew was hard at just the thought of it. He was glad to see the other guys were cleaning up after themselves, since Rob’s ass wasn’t covered in cum already — not that that would have slowed him down.
The near-hobo gripped Rob tight, feeding his dick in, letting out a grunt when he was finally hard. Rob felt a tight pressure and a pinch. He reached behind himself to guide the near-hobo’s dick in, but the layers of dirty pants and overshirts were in the way — he had only lowered his pants, not actually taken them off or even all the way down.
But it seemed he didn’t need to do much anyway. Rob was on the floor and the near-hobo pounded away at his ass, hard and relentless. Rob reached for the cocks in front of him — he was angled towards the trailer door, where two guys stood there with their dicks out — Buck Sampson and Cody Lankford. Laughing with each other and ignoring Rob they took turns slapping Rob’s face with their cocks, letting him lick both shafts, though they hadn’t gotten hard yet.
“Ah, this sissy is naa-aasty!” Cody peered like an explorer at the sissy’s face, but he didn’t touch it. He watched with wide eyes as Ramblin’ Joe’s balls went thwack-thwack on the sissy’s chin, and Cody giggled like a girl when a drop of spit his cheek. He backed off. He was little, just a spit over five feet tall, powerfully built for his size but still scrawny, with a raggedy shock of mud-blond hair. He was bright-eyed, green as jade, with light skin and a youthful face, looking younger than his big-ass buddy Buck, though they were the same age.
“They’s all like that, man, I swear, they’s all into that kinky shit…” Buck Sampson shook his head. His mighty thirteen inch cock flip-flopped between his callused mitts. He was a roughneck like some of the others, home from the oil rig to spend his money on his woman, which in fact was where she was today, shopping like a mother hen, leaving him free to wreck this sissy in whichever hole was free when Buck got into the trailer. Buck was damn near seven foot tall, built like a stevedore, which was not a word with which Buck ever done made acquaintance with, and he had a deep huffy-puffy voice. “He prolly narsty, Cody…”
“Lemme in that bitch’s mouth, I’m gonna get a little neck, shite…”
Finally someone else was ready to get in his throat. Rob didn’t even look up in time to see his face — it was a biker who went by Greaser — so he could do little more than open wide and let his mouth fill. He had a little rattail of hair, skinny as a sumbitch, walking leaning back a little all the time, ready whenever the moment struck him with a comb and some grease to slick back his hair. That was how he got the name. He had a fat dick, which joined Buck’s and Cody’s and whoever else’s that Rob jerked off in turn.
As he swallowed Greaser’s erect cock, Rob tried to get up on all fours, but the near-hobo behind him was shooting his nut up Rob’s guts, so when Rob moved, he smacked him. “Stay still, bitch, lemme in there-“
“Yo, dawgie, lemme in there too,” said some black guy, a big shaved-head man with big ditch-digger’s arms. He pushed past the others, his erect cock rubbing against their asscheeks and thighs — which he did deliberately so everyone would see how big his cock was — as he pushed into the trailer. He grimaced a little at the sight of that cum-filled hole, but he didn’t wait. It wasn’t gangsta to wait to your turn.
The black guy — Deff Jasper — loved to gangbang sluts. He and his niggas Tyrell, Killer and all them, Slim Jay, Thumper, they all got a bitch to give up her booty and all on at lesat a monthly basis. Deff be gangbanging.
But Done never ramrodded a man like this. Thumper spent thirty-four years in prison, so you know he done wreck a honky booty now and then. Slim Jay was a straight up pimp, off the clock right now though, cuz there ain’t no point in bringing hos to Smashwood Trailer Park, cuz don’t nobody got money there. He do come by to stick it in a cummy asshole. Slim Jay always say a nigga has gotta stick his dick in something nasty now and then. That’s what means it to keep it real. Slim Jay ain’t wear his pimping suit today though. He got standards. Tyrell Brickley did likewise dress down, cuz he was a clean-cut kinda nigga with the ugly dick like a caveman. He got his meat in there using all them other niggas’s nuts as lube, and Tyrell busted a nut quick cuz a nigga like him got shit to do.
Oodles of cum gushed down Rob’s thighs, and his asshole gurgled up the cumwad still in there. Deff wondered how many men had already gotten in there as he plowed in, grimacing at the feel of cum spilling out and around him. That was Tyrell’s and Slim Jay’s and all them.
It spilled over his dark skin and into his pubic hair, making a big frothy mess. “Woo-hoo, shit yeah! Sloppy seconds, baby!” His eyes opened wide when his entire cock slipped into Rob’s ass without a moment’s hesitation — no girl had ever done that. His whole ten-inch shaft got sucked right in. He wondered if Rob was that slutty or if it was just part of sloppy seconds, if cum was really just a great lubricant.
The smell of cum grew overpowering in the trailer. Deff both laughed and wrinkled his nose. It ain’t never smell this bad when he gangbanged a female. But this white-ass punk smelled like a hundred hobos’s cumloads, and there might well have be that many on his face as far as Deff knew.
“Damn, boy, take that shit!” Deff smacked Rob’s ass and then instantly regretted it because he felt someone else’s cum on his fingers. It was hot and goopy, and it made his stomach churn.
There were more men in the trailer now, and someone’s erect cock rubbed against Deff’s ass. He tried to blow it off. It wasn’t a big deal — he had done the same thing, after all, just a few minutes ago. It was attention-grabbing though, the feel of another man’s cock right next to his asshole. What if someone attempted at him? Deff would have to throw down.
His anxiety didn’t stop him from filling Rob’s ass with creamy seed. He hooted and hit Rob in the side, just hard enough to make him squirm and clench around Deff’s cock. Deff sighed and pulled out.
“Make it leak out, bitch, I wanna see it gape and get frothy, shit!” Deff wanted to watch his cum spill out of Rob’s asshole, but before he could, another trailer trash — Ransom Wargrave — was already flopping his dick over Rob’s ass.
Wargrave was hard and ready to go. This was gonna be humiliating and disgusting but worth it if he got to fuck Jaleena Busty. Just picturing her and her enormous tits was enough to make Wargrave horny. He loved porn.
He was in his late twenties, wearing a football jersey because he had been a star player in high school, and he hadn’t yet grokked that he looked like a loser still wearing it all the time. He was skinny for a football player, like he was stuck in the thirties before they learned about protein powder and creatine. Wargrave slid his dick into Rob’s ass, surprised at how easy it was — he thought he’d have trouble staying hard with so many dicks everywhere (he’d accidentally touched ten or eleven on his way in here).
Cum poured out and added to the puddle on the trailer floor. Wargrave was ginger at first when he saw that, but somehow the disgust only made his erection throb harder, and he slammed his dick in. He chuckled at the sight of droplets of cum spraying out and around.
Rob focused on slurping on Wargrave’s dick. That was his usual plan in these sorts of gangbangs. He just wanted to get as much dick as he could, but his mouth was the part that needed the most active attention. The trailer trash could just keep plowing his ass, he needed only to let them go to town on him.
But servicing cock actually required his attention, at least the way he usually did it. The more this whole experience continued, however, the more Rob could just lay there — on his back eventually because that was easier — while he was plowed into on both his ass and his mouth. He got them all: muscular studs like Julian Bondarinko and his buddies Hyler and Specs, black guys — like this local musclebound rapper Killer and his multiracial posse Lamar, Mikey, Mane, Hansen and J-Moc — this tubby fatso named Piggie whose belly stank like cheap cheese, a stringy-haired beggar named Tommy Weathers, a trucker named Manky who was just passing through, crackheads with names like Belmont and Spider and Nugget, all of them came to make Rob as nasty as could be. As predicted, at least one married man from the other side of the park, Jerry Maple, did come over and get a nut off real quick, before his wife noticed he was gone.
“Gonna make ya dirty-“
“Ah, boys, that is some nasty shit, lookit his ass, it’s all… gross…”
He lay on his back with his head dangling over the edge of the top-step leading out of the trailer. That angle made it easier for scumbag after scumbag to throat him down, until his mouth was coated with gobs of precum, semen and puddles of his own spit.
His throat was sore, but this was the part that Rob loved most. He could keep his mouth open as though his jaw was slack, and they just kept plowing in. Every time one person finished spewing jizz down his gullet, another one took his place. Once he got into the swing of things, Rob could — and gladly would — deepthroat any cock, no matter how big. In fact a couple of them had noticeably tiny dicks, like that Mikey Thimble, but even that contributed to the nasty mess all over Rob’s face, and he appreciated the lack of self-consciousness these men had about that.
How many loads was this? Rob had lost count. He was pretty sure he had at least thirty on his face now. He tasted cum everywhere. He couldn’t even tell which loads were on his face and which had been shot right down his throat.
“Make him cummy! Make him cummy!”
“His face is so nasty, got like a million babies on his face-“
“Ew, don’t say it like that, man-“
“It’s more than a million anyway. That is so gross. It looks like snot and shit!”
The last guy on his face was a young man who had very nearly refused to participate in this. He was Chris Hazel, and he was only nineteen, barely out of high school. He didn’t want to do anything gross, so he had opted out. He didn’t want to gangbang a female porn star either. He had cute-boy dimples but white-trash hair, and his furry chest was meaty and well-fed like he didn’t come from here. He did come from Smashwood, he just looked well-fed for a trailer park.
But when the others started teasing him about it, asking if he was unable to get hard, he felt compelled to do it. He stuck his hard dick in Rob’s mouth and closed his eyes, trying not to feel the clumps of cum that stuck to his thighs and his pubic hair.
Rob’s face had been virtually bukkaked — most of the men had shot in his throat, so it wasn’t real bukkake, it was more spit and precum and spat-up cum — and Chris was shocked to feel that sticky seed all over his balls and his shaft.
The guys in Rob’s ass were the raunchier ones — it took a special kind of guy to gangbang a male stranger. It was the ragged, long-haired Logan Barnaby who was last to go in there.
“‘Course Logan’s doin’ it…”
“He’ll stick it in anything!”
He had climbed in the window to get in that ass. Logan would gladly fuck any woman in the ass — he was known for that in the park, he had no shame about plowing morbidly obese women, elderly women, toothless drug whores, any woman who would willingly give up the ass, he fucked them.
He done stuck more than a few men in the ass too, but he was at least discrete about that. Usually. He was in a hard rock band, and he had a hard-living kind of face, he looked like the kind of man who lived in his car, which he in fact did — it was parked at the end of a dirt road at the far end of Smashwood. His work-hard jowls and broad shoulders were sore, his hairy greasy and unkempt, his cock uncut and fat as the beer bottles he was constantly drinking from.
Going last was not bad at all, he thought. It was like swimming in spooge. He wasn’t even sure he could feel the walls of Rob’s guts. It was all cum, like dipping his dick in a sauce made of raunch. His long stringy hair rocked back and forth and covered his face as he watched that young pup Chris spray one last load all over Rob’s face.
“Ah, damn, bitch…” he said with a sigh as his own orgasm rocked his body. It was intense, prideful — he felt like he had conquered a weaker man.
He added his own cum to the soupy mess that was Rob’s ass. Rob was still on his back, legs in the air, so as he finally experienced the last throes of his potent prostate orgasm, Rob’s toes gripped Logan’s hairy shoulder-muscles.
Logan didn’t mind. He stayed right there, dipping his dick in that cummy soup as it limpened in Rob’s ass. He cocked his head to the side, marveling at the intense pleasure his cock could bring someone like Rob. Rob squirmed and squealed, making the jizz that coated his face and body stream down onto the floor of Bax’s trailer.
“Well, fuck, bitch, you are nasty!” Logan said, in a tone that suggested he did not see that as an insult.
“I know,” Rob said, giggling. “But thanks for pointing it out.” He sighed and began licking up all the cum he could get to from his face, chest and ass. It tasted like spit and armpit sweat and other flavors he couldn’t quite identify. He was so focused on that he ignored the men laughing at him — and at Bax, whose trailer was positively soaked in cum.
“Ah… it’s nasty in here,” Bax said. He hadn’t predicted this would all happen in his trailer. He had put a sheet down on the couch, but of course, that hadn’t been enough. He’d assumed the action would move out into the trailer park proper.
“Yeah, it’s pretty nasty,” Rob said, rubbing his sore ass. He giggled and blushed. “Just the way I like it.” He put his clothes back out, and groped all the men he could reach as he headed for the trailer park’s entrance. “I’ll send Jaleena over tomorrow. I’ll be your fluffer too.”
Once they were away from Bax’s trailer, most of them got excited about tomorrow’s gangbang, and they began to brag about who would fuck her best, first and in the most interesting ways. Rob couldn’t wait for that too. He knew he wouldn’t get as much cum tomorrow, but it would be fun in its own way.
Plus he already had a lead on a construction crew who was willing to cornhole the everlasting fuck out of him next week.

Sharing a Bed With a Baseball Jock

Avery drives the team bus when he gets a chance to share a bed with a hunky basketball jock. Trent Wyatt’s girlfriend won’t let him go near another woman, but she won’t mind him getting his needs met another way…

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

“My woman said she gonna cut my nuts off if I talk to another female,” Trent Wyatt said in a press conference. That caused a huge controversy that attracted Avery’s attention. Unlike everyone in the media, Avery was not worried because he said “nuts” nor because he used the term “my woman” nor because he used the word “female” in a dismissive manner nor because he accused his girlfriend of threatening assault. That was all silly nitpicking from Avery’s point-of-view.
It seemed the media was very thin-skinned these days.
Avery was interested because Trent Wyatt had specified — and repeated a few times in interviews since — that his girlfriend had warned him off other “females”. She hadn’t said anything about males.
That gave Avery an idea. He managed to pull a few favors within the GHU athletic department, which got Avery a gig driving the team bus for a game between the GHU Titans and Montana State. It was far enough away that they would have to spend a night in a hotel room.
Trent Wyatt was handsome like a movie star, and Avery had a plan to get a swing on his tasty basketball-jock meat. Trent was tall and lean, ropy-muscled with long legs and a sculpted face with dimples and cheekbones and all that jazz. He had only one tattoo — that was another thing that made him unusual in the American College Basketball Association — but it was a colorful doozy, a full-arm sleeve depicting the whole of US African American history, ending in the ornately decorated face of his grandmother near his wrist.
There had been so many reports on that goddamn tattoo last year. Avery had gotten sick of them. He watched a lot of them because Trent Wyatt was well-sculpted, and they showed tons of shirtless pictures of him to display the tattoo — Avery was ninety-percent sure that the reason Trent tried so hard to get the media to pay attention to the tattoo was to show off his chest.
And Avery had wanted him the entire time. He never even recalled what Trent said about the stuff on the tattoo because Avery was mesmerized by those dimples and those deep, dark eyes.
So he was giddy when the Titans climbed onto the team bus. Avery smiled politely but didn’t say much. The players mostly ignored him. They were huge — basketball players always seemed skinny on average to Avery, because they were never barrel-chested or bulky, but when he saw them in person, he could see how heavily stacked most of them really were. Their muscles were compact, pulled taut, so tight it almost looked painful, Avery thought, Trent especially. He looked like a three-hundred pound bodybuilder crammed into a hundred-eighty-pound body.
“Alright, gentlemen, I gotta read the required safety standards,” Avery said when they were all settled in. “Is anyone here a child under eighty pounds?”
“Yeah, me,” said Jashwan Mitchell. “I’m only seventy-four pounds.”
“Then you have to sit either in a child-seat or on my lap,” Avery said. “I choose my lap.”
They all laughed at Jashwan, who laughed too, a little too aggressively, like he wanted everyone to know it could only be a joke, that he’d never actually sit on Avery’s lap. Avery went through the rest of the required safety standards, then he got behind the wheel and set off. Avery got his caffeine pills out and kept them on the dashboard to take when he got tired, and he’d avoided caffeine for the last week to be sure it had a strong effect on him. He’d be driving until midnight. He could probably drive longer, but he wasn’t allowed to, and they should arrive at the hotel but midnight. Not just any hotel either, Avery planned this trip to be sure they stopped at the hotel whose setup was conducive to his plans.
Avery expected lots of rowdy behavior on the bus. They were athletes after all, and he had gone on the football team’s bus once back in high school. The guys then had been loud and rambunctious, and the bus driver had had to pull over twice to tell them to settle down. He was expecting horseplay, off-color jokes, crude gestures aimed at other drivers on the road and aggressive fight songs.
But the ride didn’t turn out like that at all. Maybe basketball and football players behaved differently on bus rides. The loudest they got was a debate over keto versus paleo diets. There was some snickering that Avery was pretty sure came from ogling over pictures on someone’s phone — presumably someone’s girlfriend in a bikini — but other than that, it was very quiet.
“Hey, man, is there gonna be a bar or somethin’ at this place?” Jashwan Mitchell asked when they got close to the night’s hotel.
“A bar at the hotel, yeah, I think so,” Avery said. He had actually chosen this hotel precisely because it had a nice bar and because the bar’s regular patrons included a number of women of loose repute. The basketball players were sure to get laid.
But he let the players discover that on their own. When they pulled in at the hotel, Avery parked and let them all out. He waited in the bus for a few minutes. The players all hurried into their rooms.
Avery came out when he saw the players beginning to head out to the bar. Few of them drank, but there were women galore in the bar, and that was what they were interested in. They all had a game tomorrow, that was why nobody wanted to get drunk. Once he had parked the bus and made sure all the players were checked in, Avery went to the main desk at the hotel to get his own room key.
“I’m sorry sir, there are no vacancies,” the clerk said.
“Are you sure? I was told there was always a room available for the bus driver.” Avery kept arguing with the clerk as he waited for Trent Wyatt to come out of his room. Finally it happened. He was hesitant, smoothing his fine, ironed shirt and fiddling with the gold chain around his neck.
“I’m sorry, there’s nothing I can do.”
“So I have to sleep on the bus?!” Avery threw his hands in the air. He hoped this was coming out believable — Avery in fact knew he needed to call ahead to register a room. Avery used to be a clerk in a motel, he knew exactly how this worked.
But he also knew that, if he couldn’t get a room of his own, he’d end up sharing a room and hopefully a bed with one of the players. He had exactly which player in mind.
“Hey, man, you need a room?” Trent said when he saw the fracas at the front desk.
Avery turned to face him and nodded. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know I needed to reserve a room. That’s not how most hotels around here work.”
The clerk was about to correct him, but Avery walked away with Trent before he could open his mouth. Avery patted Trent on the back, which was firm like a barrel of packed sand. Trent had taken a shower, and his skin exuded warmth still, a few beads of moisture still dotting his nape. His hair remained slightly moist, glistening in the brilliant light of the hotel lobby.
“That sucks, man…” Trent’s voice trailed off. There was an intense pressure in the air. It was obvious Trent felt he should invite Avery to stay in his room, but he wasn’t going to do that. Avery wasn’t surprised. He hadn’t expected it to happen quite like this. He just wanted to put the thought in Trent’s head. He’d let it bounce around in Trent’s mind for awhile.
“Oh, it’s not a big deal. I’ll just sleep in the bus, it’s comfortable enough,” Avery said. “I can rough it.”
“Huh, yeah.” Trent chuckled dryly.
“Thanks, sugar,” Avery said. He patted Trent on the six-packed belly. “Are you going to the bar? Don’t let those women lead you astray — you got a girlfriend at home, right? Stay with her, man. Do what she says, y’know…”
“Yeah…” Trent glanced at the bar, which was crowded and filled with hollering. Word had spread that most of an ABA team was hanging out in this bar, so it had filled up with skanks and hangers-on. One of those skanks was sucking off Jashwan Mitchell right when Trent walked in and nearly walked into his friend’s cock.
Avery watched. He wasn’t a voyeur, but he did enjoy seeing Jashwan’s veiny cock throb in the trashy woman’s mouth, and he enjoyed the bartender’s pained, desperate attempts to get them to stop without calling the police. It all happened too fast for the cops to get involved though. The whole blowjob took maybe three minutes, and then the slut ran off with a mouthful of basketball star cream.
That was hot. Avery licked his lips. He preferred to watch men fuck than to participate, and he’d found driving sports teams really gave him opportunities to watch.
Avery went out to the bus to wait. He thought he had about an eighty percent chance of getting Trent tonight. Avery had a sixth sense about that kind of thing. He spent the time looking on his phone to verify that quote — Trent had definitely specified that he wasn’t allowed to be with “females”, and Avery had definitely reminded him that he was not a female.
He googled Trent on some forums he knew of, to see if there were any rumors about Trent’s sexual history. He may have gotten sucked off by a stripper in Boise, Idaho — a woman claimed as much in a basketball forum, just days before Trent started specifying to reporters that he never got frisky on the road. Avery felt sure that was what had prompted Trent’s girlfriend to make him promise to stop. The stripper had probably contacted her.
That had only been six months ago. If he was really trying to be faithful now, Avery thought, he was probably desperately horny. He hadn’t been back to his house, and his girlfriend, in almost a month, after all. Avery didn’t think it was fair for women to expect their men to be faithful away from home, but Avery did enjoy it — it was one of the things that made it so easy for Avery to find the alpha males he enjoyed.
Back in the hotel, Trent Wyatt hadn’t stopped thinking about Avery.
He’d never messed around with a male. Back in the neighborhood Trent grew up in, it was considered acceptable, more or less, for men to mess around on the downlow. But Trent had never done so. Mainly that was for guys who couldn’t get laid by females. There was a flamboyant man in his neighborhood who would jerk off any eighteen-year-old if he wasn’t fat or addicted to drugs. Trent always had a bevy of females after him, so he would never do anything like that. He’d teased all the guys who did. He ignored it when they said that males throated dick better than any female. He didn’t believe it.
But the older he got, the more he could believe it. He still hadn’t done it. Somehow sex had gotten more complicated, even though he was married and an international sex symbol. His girlfriend rarely wanted to have sex anymore, and she didn’t even suck his dick except on his birthday.
That flamboyant bus driver was outside, waiting. He hadn’t explicitly said he would jack off Trent’s dick.
But Trent had a feeling it would happen if he went out there. He could get sucked off by one of these chicks too, no doubt. But she would likely want his phone number, she’d tell TMZ he was an asshole, she’d brag to her gal-pals, and his girlfriend would eventually find out. Plus, perhaps most importantly, Trent thought he’d be unable to avoid looking guilty if he went back to his girlfriend after fucking with another woman.
You can always bust a nut in a sissy. Feels just like a woman cuz they got the right equipment. They know how it all works.
That was what some of the older guys in Trent’s neighborhood said. Trent had thought it was a joke. They didn’t really believe it, right?
But now that Trent had a woman, he couldn’t help but believe it. It made sense, didn’t it? It wasn’t like Trent would ever leave his girlfriend to jack off with some white man. And he wasn’t even going to do something with Avery that he would do with his girlfriend — she rarely sucked his dick and never did anal.
Trent found himself walking out there without making the decision to go through with it. But he second-guessed himself when the cool night air hit his face. He scratched his balls through his jeans and discovered his dick was so hard it hurt. The women in the bar were so easy, and Trent’s girlfriend was so far away.
I gotta do something. Trent winced. He had an idea that would make it seem like less of a big deal, he thought, plus it’d make him look like a nice guy.
He went out to the bus and told the bus driver he could share his room. “I’m goin’ to sleep now, but you can come with me if you want,” Trent said. “We gonna have to share the bed.”
“Oh, thank you so much!” Avery said, squealing and hugging Trent’s chest. Avery could see the telltale bulge of his hardon, but he didn’t bring it up. He just followed Trent to the hotel room. “I thought my back was going to get sore from sleeping in there.”
“Uh-huh.” Trent bit his lip. He remained tense in the hotel room as he took off his shirt. He liked it when anyone, even men, complimented his chest and his six-pack abs. Avery giggled at the sight.
“Damn, you must work out all the time.”
“Yeah. Pretty much,” Trent said. He posed. He flexed his biceps so Avery could squeeze them, and he even made his pecs bounce. He felt like a stripper. He was awkward at first, but when Avery’s infectious smile caught on, Trent smiled proudly and relaxed.
“Do you normally watch TV to go to sleep?” Avery asked as they settled in.
“Sometimes. My girlfriend don’t like it though.”
“Well she’s not here, so let’s do something she wouldn’t let you do normally,” Avery said. He added with a knowing wink, “You might prefer to have something to look at. You can always turn it off later.” He put the remote on the nightstand on Trent’s side of the bed.
It was softcore porn. Avery had put it on a video of a woman fingering herself, a pretty blonde with tits like sandcastles. Trent’s eyes were drawn to her. Avery winked at Trent, whose half-hard dick twitched in his boxers, but it didn’t seem Trent noticed. The sound was almost off, so all Trent could hear was the woman’s feminine moaning.
Only when the camera moved away from that woman and her tits that Trent noticed Avery watching him. Trent bristled, his muscles all flexing, though he pretended not to notice.
He’s definitely planning on tastin’ my dick… Trent gulped nervously. He couldn’t wait. His dick still throbbed mightily in his boxers.
Avery crawled under the covers and patted the mattress for Trent to join him. Trent grimaced and did so. That sexy babe on TV was hard to tear his eyes away from.
“Hmm… Just relax,” Avery said. “I bet that tonight, you’re going to sleep better than you have in a long time.” He whispered once Trent had settled under the covers, and Avery scooted closer to him. “Do you think so? Is there anything I can do to make you fall asleep better?”
“Uh, well…”
“Shush, you don’t have to say anything,” Avery said. He moved so close his breath condensed on Trent’s ear, and Avery’s hand crept over Trent’s chest. “I’ll just slip under the covers and you can put my hand and my mouth and… other parts… wherever you want them to be.”
Trent sucked in his breath. His dick was hard now, that woman onscreen drawing him in. Avery’s soft fingers caressed Trent’s flat belly. His touch made Trent’s muscles ripple and his pecs bounce, and Avery felt his heartbeat quicken.
It was so easy to believe those fingers belonged to that sexy woman on the TV, Trent thought, especially in the dark, under the covers. That was what her fingers would feel like, Trent was sure. He could picture it in his mind.
“Ssssshhh…” Avery licked Trent’s earlobe. “You can pretend you’re asleep…”His hand slid over Trent’s six-pack to his cock, reaching into his boxers. He gripped his dick and gave it a stroke, bringing it the rest of the way to full erection.
Trent moaned. “My girlfriend…”
“Ssssssssh…. You’re asleep, it’s okay, your girlfriend can’t be mad at you for things your body does when it’s asleep, and anyway, you won’t remember any of this,” Avery said. “Everybody needs a little release…”
“I’m not drunk, I don’t drink-“
“I know, shush…” Avery kissed him on the cheek and lowered his head beneath the covers. He sucked some of the sweat that beaded in the valley between Trent’s pecs. It was salty and warm, and it made Avery’s whole body surge with desire.
At last Avery made it to that cock. He’d freeze-framed on a video of Trent playing basketball in his shorts, cock plainly outlined by the fabric. He had that pic on his phone right now. So he’d been daydreaming about this moment for a long time. He was giddy that he finally got to taste the great Trent Wyatt’s cock.
It was even bigger than he had thought it’d be. He popped the tip in his mouth, making Trent’s whole body shake. His muscles flexed. Avery giggled. His soft limps caressed the rock-hard shaft, which throbbed beneath his touch.
“Oh god….-” Trent cut his moan off because Avery shushed him again. His dick pulsated in Avery’s mouth, rapidly firming up even though Avery hadn’t done much with it.
As Trent’s whole body undulated, Avery pushed his head up and down the shaft, deep-throating it, then pulling all the way off to take a sweat-scented breath of air, then deep-throating it again. Every time his nose hit Trent’s pubes, a moan came out of Trent. Avery murmured, “Shush, you’re asleep, remember? You can tell your girlfriend nothing happened, because you don’t remember it.”
Trent did feel like sleeping. He wasn’t asleep. But this was dark, and he couldn’t see Avery at all. With his eyes closed, he didn’t even see the TV, but he heard the moist, feminine sounds of emanating from the woman on TV.
The sour-salty taste of precum hit Avery’s tongue, and he slurped down every drop. Avery loved precum. He suckled on the tip of Trent’s dick, then throated him deeply until Trent gasped and cried out.
Trent wrapped his hands around Avery’s scalp and held on. He pumped his hips, humping Avery’s mouth as aggressively as anyone ever had.
He was on the verge of blowing his wad when Avery pulled off him. Trent let out a roar of frustration, followed by a desperate little mewling sound. His cock was ready to explode. He had never been this horny. The thought of not blowing his load right away made Avery pained.
He needn’t have worried. Before he could think, Trent felt Avery climb atop his body. Avery carefully kept the covers over him the best he could — the room was dark, so it didn’t hardly matter, but he knew from personal experience that men considered that sexy. It was easy to pretend he was a woman if they couldn’t see him.
Avery gripped Trent’s cock and slid down on it. He bit his lip at first, as intense, uncomfortable pressure flooded his ass. Trent’s dick stretched his tight hole, sending a few twinges of pain through his body. He kneaded the smooth, hard flesh of Trent’s muscled chest as he slid lower and rode him.
At last he was all the way down. His ass squeezed around Trent’s manhood, which pulsated inside him, throbbing so Avery could feel Trent’s heartbeat throughout his body.
He leaned his head down and kissed Trent’s grizzled chin — he was normally clean-shaved, but he hadn’t shaved yet on this road trip. Avery moaned into Trent’s ear. Pleasure exploded in Avery’s veins.
“Goddamn, man,” Trent said. He slowly lost his inhibitions and wrapped his hands around Avery’s waist. He guided him up and down on his cock.
The sheets and blankets fell off Avery’s body, but the room was dark enough that Trent still didn’t see him. Avery shivered a little in the sudden chill of the air-conditioned room.
Avery’s ass clenched. He moaned, his desire to sound like a woman momentarily fading as he shot his own load into his hand. His prostate exploded in intense pleasure that rocked through his body. He leaned his head back and would have howled but he didn’t want the hotel staff to tell them keep it down, so he muffled the sound and instead undulated intensely atop Trent’s crotch.
“Holy shit!” Trent didn’t worry about being loud. He was having the most potent orgasm he’d felt in a very long time. He filled Avery with his creamy seed, each gyration of his hips sending a new wave of pleasure that ratcheted his sensations up to a new level.
Trent couldn’t believe good that felt. His voice broke and he caressed Avery’s chest as though he might find breasts there if he looked hard enough. His body went from smooth and clean to drenched in sweat in mere moments.
Then he felt limp and fell back onto the bedspread. Still, he squirmed there as though it hurt because Avery remained on top of his dick, which still throbbed, exquisitely sensitive in Avery’s tight ass. It felt so good that Trent grunted with pain.
Finally, Avery slid off him, his entire body moist and slathered in fluids. Avery let out a long moan that filled the still hotel room.
The comfortable silence was interrupted moments later by a knock on the door. Trent’s heart nearly leapt out of his chest and he jumped out of bed.
“Uh… Hello?”
Trent’s eyes opened wide. “Hello?! What?!”
“Uh, sir… could you… We have received a complaint, sir. Can you keep it down in there?” the clerk said, his voice wavering, especially when Trent virtually ripped the door open. He hadn’t meant to come across as angry or intimidating, but he did, especially since he was so tall, muscular and stark-naked, massive dick dangling and gleaming with moisture between his legs. A few drops of cum still clung to the tip, and Trent hoped the clerk didn’t see it. It was dark, so probably it wasn’t visible.
Trent hadn’t meant to flash his cockmeat at the clerk. So he just grunted. “Uh-huh. Later.” He slammed the door shut.
Well, he thought, that clerk was definitely going to post about it on the ESPN forums. At least it wasn’t obvious he was in here with a man, or so Trent hoped.
He scooted back into bed besides Avery, who had cleaned up. Avery cuddled up next to Trent, who sighed and let him do so, even when he felt Avery’s dick touching his thigh.
“I’m glad I’m your driver,” Avery said. He kissed Trent’s neck. “Do you want me to wake you up in the morning, sweetie?”
“Hell yeah, babe. Keep ya head under the covers though, since there’ll be light in the room. And don’t make no noise if my girlfriend calls me in the morning. She prolly will.”

The Construction Worker

Avery likes to hang out near a construction site, so he can service whichever alpha needs a nut after work. When one older worker comes to him, Avery is eager to help him out by relieving his relentless stiffy!

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Elton George virtually sprinted out of the construction site. He tried to slow himself down, to match his coworkers, because he didn’t want to look like a little boy when school just let out. Some of them strode slowly as though it didn’t matter.
Indeed, it didn’t matter. The construction site was miles from the city, there was nothing around here, no place to run to, no reason to hurry. Running didn’t get you home any quicker. They had to wait for the bus. Jambone Construction paid for the charter bus to bring them to and from the construction site every day. So Elton knew they had some twenty minutes, maybe more, to wait for the bus.
“You nasty! You so nasty!”
“She was fuckin’ fat! You should-a saw it when she got outta her car, man, the whole thing lifted up like six inches, and it wheezed like my dad gettin’ outuva chair-“
“You yungin’s don’t even know, the fattest cat is the baddest pussy,” said Cooter, who let out a crass wheezing laugh. Everyone else joined in laughing with him — or maybe at him, or a bit of both. Elton couldn’t decide. Cooter was the oldest one here. The other workers were all in their mid to late twenties, but Cooter was well past fifty years old.
And he wasn’t even in charge of the work-crew. Elton would be ashamed if he was that old and he was still just a construction worker.
“Oh, there’s that creep.”
They all got quiet as they got close to the bus stop. While this area was rural, there was a small building here — a warehouse for a medical supply company. It was not far from the highway and conveniently located between some major cities, so it made sense as a location for a warehouse. There was one employee at the warehouse.
That employee was Avery, who liked to check out Elton and the other construction workers at the end of the day. His summer vacation was almost over, and then it’d be back to college. For now though, he was enjoying the weather and appreciating the physiques of the workers who walked past his warehouse every afternoon.
Hushing up and filing to the bus stop, nobody turned to look at Avery, even though he waved.
“It’s Africa-hot today!”
“I’s sweaty as a hog,” said Paul Del Toro, who had taken his shirt off. Most of the workers did so whenever they got off-duty. It was hot this time of year, sweltering, sweat pouring down their bodies. Paul had a six-pack like a movie star, and he liked to show it off. Elton wasn’t jealous though — Paul had a six-pack and carved muscles but also a weird bulgey butterface, making him as ugly as a punch to the face. Paul glanced over to Avery. “That sissy is watchin’…”
“Sissies ain’t into yo’ stanky ass, Paul-“
“He prolly want my nigga ass,” Jaycee said, prompting an outpouring of laughs, as Jaycee lifted up his shirt as though to show off a six-pack like Paul’s. Jaycee didn’t have a six-pack. He always bragged about picking up chicks, but that was in part because he liked his females as thick as him, or moreso, and didn’t mind what their faces looked like — as he said, I prefers ’em bendin’ over anyhow, so I don’t see they faces much. Jaycee laughed along with them, and said, “Watch, he gonna be cummin’ in his drawers.” He bent over to tie his sneaker, aiming his ass right at the sissy man in front of the warehouse across the way. Jaycee shook his ass.
Everyone oohed and aahed, sneaking glances at the college boy Avery — who was maybe seventy feet away, looking in this direction, but not seemingly aware that Jaycee was bent over and waving his ass at him. Then Cooter — the older white guy with silver hair and a scruffy beard that made him look homeless — rammed one hand into Jaycee’s jeans as he said, “Watch out, he gonna stick it up ya rear, Jaycee!”
Jaycee yelped and jumped away. His deep voice bellowed. “Ah, man, Cooter, you nearly got in my asshole-“
Elton and the others all laughed so hard their sides hurt. That was just like Cooter too — he often called the others squeamish about male contact. He said the younger generations were wusses. Elton had once been pissing on a tree when Cooter came up to piss next to him and talked to him, cock hanging freely, so close Elton couldn’t help but look at it. Cooter hadn’t even realized that was weird. Elton hadn’t been able to tear his eyes away from that veiny shaft — which was huge and intimidating, hoggish, knobbled, like an animal’s organ that had been grafted onto Cooter’s body.
“Shit, Cooter, you touched his asshole-“
“Shut the fuck up-” Cooter grumbled. He smacked Paul in the back of the head. “You boys is a bunch of motherfuckin’ squeamish whippersnappers. You know we used to shower after work e’ry day, and now we can’t on account of kids like you boys get all scared ’bout queers as soon as you gotta look at a real man’s dick. A real man can see another man wit’out goin’ squeamy, ya feel me?” He pulled his dick out, lowering his pants enough to bare it and then pulling his shirt off — revealing a broad chest covered in grayish hair — so his crotch was more visible.
“Ah, shit!”
“He whipped it out!”
“That old fart took his dick out!”
“Ah, fuck! Put that old-man dick away!”
“Hey, what’s that? There’s a note.” Jaycee noticed it first. There was a piece of paper taped to the bus-stop sign. Jaycee read it. “Who wants to blow a nut? I’ll give fifty bucks to whoever comes to my warehouse and lets me service their body on the downlow. Signed, Avery. P.S. No condom and yes I swallow.”
A long awkward silence filled the air. Then Paul laughed, and the others all joined in. Jaycee clutched his belly and grabbed his crotch, aiming his cock towards the warehouse. The men there waved awkwardly.
“Yo, man, you nasty! No one wanna do that shit!” Jaycee yelled to him.
“Fuckin’ gross! He prolly takin’ in nut from all kinda hobos and shit!”
“I gots females, man, I got female beggin’ for my meat. Ain’t doin’ nothin’ sissy for fifty bucks!” Vic de Santo yelled, throwing his hands in the air.
“You fuckheads don’t know what’s up, does ya dick even work? How else you gonna pass the time that’s better than dippin’ ya dick in some bitch?” Cooter said, running his fingers through his greasy white hair. His shirt was off, wadded up and dangling from the back of his workpants. He touched his bare chest like he was nervously thinking about it. Again, everyone fell silent as it became apparent Cooter was going to do it. “Fifty bucks? And you get ya dick wet? Man, back in my day-“
“Back in yo’ day slutty dinosaurs sucked you off?”
“Man, Cooter-!”
“You so old, man, I don’t even think he meant you-“
“Yeah, he want some young meat. Nobody do like an old man.”
“He prolly assumed your dick ain’t work, Cooter. He ain’t even think you might do it.”
“He might not even be able to tell that you old, Cooter, he never seen us up close.”
Cooter turned around. “If you fuckheads ain’t bold enough, stay here and pull ya goddamn puds. I’m-a go get my dick wet.” He walked away, towards the warehouse, leaving the others to cackle him up.
“Sorry, uh, Mister Sissy Dude! He ain’t know how old he is, he still think he a young buck!”
“You can just give him some hard candy and he’ll go away!”
Cooter growled as he approached the warehouse. The young sissy, Avery, lounged against the wall. “Hmmm… Hi,” Avery said.
“Howdy. I’m Cooter,” Cooter said. His voice was gruff and rough-hewn, like he lined his throat with river rocks. He looked Avery up and down. “You a punk, huh? You wanna get it up the ass? You gonna pay?”
Avery smiled nonchalantly. “I like to be wooed.” He held out a hand, which Cooter took and kissed the back of. He ignored the whooping shouts from his coworkers. Cooter’s callused hands ran up Avery’s arm, feeling his smooth skin. Then Cooter forcibly pushed Avery face-first into the wall. Avery grunted and gripped the brick. Cooter rammed his hand down Avery’s pants and touched his asscheeks, then his hole. He didn’t finger him, he just touched the rim and let go. Avery’s heart skipped a beat. “Oh, you brute! You’re so rough!”
Cooter grunted. “I know you prolly wanted them young bucks, but you got me. They’s all a bunch of squeamish nancies. They scared you gonna turn ’em into bitches.” He put his hands on his hips. “Pardon my French, that’s the word I use.”
“I don’t think that was French,” Avery said with a giggle. He touched one of Cooter’s nipples, then played with some of the sweat-dappled fur of his chest. “You’re all sweaty and dirty.”
“What’d you think was gonna happen? I just got off work.”
“I wasn’t complaining,” Avery said. He leaned in and kissed Cooter on the chest. The taste was sour and salty, with a muskiness like the smell of clothes that had sat in the closet all winter. “It was just an observation.” Avery licked a trail from his chest up to his neck.
But then Cooter gruffly shoved his head away. “Nah. You can touch me below the neck. C’mon, let’s go,” Cooter said. He walked into the warehouse. “Be quick, I don’t wanna miss my bus. And you best pay me. If you stiff me, motherfucker, I will kick your ass so hard ya farts fall out.”
“Yes, daddy,” Avery said. He came up close behind Cooter, whose weathered skin was taut over his looping back muscles. Cooter bristled but didn’t complain as Avery licked his broad shoulders — he had, after all, said Avery could touch him below the neck all he wanted.
Inside the warehouse were long rows of shelves filled with medical supplies. Cooter grunted at the sight of them. “You got Tonaltia?”
“Hmmm…?” Avery’s mind didn’t quite process his question because he focused on the grimy dust that clung to Cooter’s body hair. Avery sunk to his knees behind Cooter, who looked over the rows of goods. Avery pulled down Cooter’s mud-caked workpants, revealing a pair of tattered, threadbare boxers. Avery pulled them down too and kissed Cooter’s asscheeks. His old-man dick flopped out.
“You got Tonaltia here? It’s a lotion, it’s medicated but it’s over-the-counter.”
“I dunno, I don’t think so,” Avery said.
Cooter was quiet for a moment. “If you want, you can pay me in Tonaltia. That’s shit’s expensive. If you got a case of it here-“
“Hmmm…” Avery finally realized what he was saying, and the word Tonaltia hit his brain. “Oh, yeah, we got that. I can say a box got ruined due to mice or something, they’ll send us a replacement box.” He quickly went and found one. It had twenty bottles of Tonaltia in it — worth close to two hundred bucks at retail.
Cooter stood there waiting with his pants and boxers around his ankles. His prick dangled freely. He grabbed the box and seemed satisfied, like he would have gladly walked out with his pants still down. But he stood still, box in hand.
“Alright then, sissy, get to whatevuh it is you wanna do,” Cooter said. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked down at his feet, where Avery kneeled once more. Avery didn’t use his hands, he bent his head over and chased Cooter’s cock with his mouth.
Cooter harrumphed and used his hands instead — he grabbed Avery’s head and fed his dick down. “Quit playin’ wit’ it, man, young fellers is always playin’ and shit. Take it serious.” He started fucking Avery’s throat immediately, even though his dick was soft and rubbery.
Avery didn’t mind. It gave him a chance to deep-throat Cooter’s dick while it was still limp, and he slathered it with spit. He suckled loudly, moistly generating as much saliva as he could, until it ran down his chin and onto the warehouse floor.
He gripped Cooter’s asscheeks for support, using both hands there so he could slurp hands-free — he liked doing that because it clearly annoyed Cooter. Cooter didn’t want to touch Avery’s head since he wasn’t wearing that Marilyn Monroe wig — Cooter hadn’t let a man jerk him off without that wig in a very long time; Cooter hadn’t been sober for it for an even long time. Soon he found his dick was rock-hard, balls swinging against Avery’s chin. He grunted. Did this feel better than it did when he was drunk?
At least, he thought, he had months worth of that damn lotion his insurance wouldn’t cover. That was worth way more than the fifty bucks.
“Ah, damn…” A jolt of pleasure shot up his spine. Cooter bit his lip and moaned. He gripped Avery’s head and found that now, he wasn’t so uncomfortable with the clearly-male hair underneath his fingers. It no longer reminded him so much that he wasn’t with a female, and he could picture a pretty woman in his mind — the warehouse was dimly lit, after all, so he could barely see Avery.
Moist choking sounds emanated up from Avery’s lips, and Cooter grew increasingly impassioned. Cooter didn’t sound friendly when he was aroused though, and he kept grunting, clucking his tongue against his teeth and grimacing when he felt resistance from Avery’s throat.
“C’mon, man, open that throat up,” Cooter murmured. “You fightin’ back, don’t fight me, boy!” He let go, and Avery pulled off to gasp for air.
“Hmmm… You can keep throating me down, even if I gag, that’s fine-“
“I know, punk,” Cooter said with an angry snort. He rammed his dick back in even before Avery could gather his breath. As a burst of pleasure ran up his spine, Cooter let out a long chest-rattling sigh.
“Eww! Eww! Eww! “
“Did you see it?”
“I could hear it! It was so nasty! It was the nastiest sound ever!”
“He’s really jerkin’ off that old man!”
Those other younger construction workers must have poked their head in. Avery didn’t see them, but he made as many loud choking sounds as he could when he thought he heard the door creak open again. They all snickered like children and dashed off.
Cooter shouted back. “Man, you youngins best shut ya goddamn mouths! I may be old but I can still whip ya silly bitch-asses!” When he yelled, his hoary old crotch rammed into Avery’s face, his nose nuzzling in his wiry pubic hair.
Avery choked once more, and a big wad of fluids plopped on the ground. That was a loud enough sound that it made the young men outside holler like their favorite team had just scored a goal.
“Shit, Cooter, you are fuckin’ disgustin’!”
“Damn! Didya hear that!”
“Shit, when I fuck girls in the ass, it make more of a thwomp-thwomp sound-“
“But you ain’t got droopy old-man balls like Cooter, his sac goes all the way to his knees and shit-“
“Gray pubic hair prolly smells like a fuckin’ library.”
“Hey, Gramps, is in you in his ass or his mouth?”
“That ain’t no choke, I made girls choke on my meat before, they don’t sound like that-“
“That’s cuz girls don’t like chokin’. They quit when they choke.”
Cooter let out another growl. His dick throbbed, salty precum running down the shaft. He swiped it over Avery’s face, leaving a layer of gleaming fluids there, which seemed to virtually glow in the dim light of the warehouse.
“Shit, I bet his cum smells like Werther’s Originals-“
“Hey!” Cooter shouted. He walked away, dick dragging out of Avery’s mouth. He went right to the doorway, shuffling because his pants and boxers were around his ankles. The younger workers scattered away from the door when they saw him getting close, cock jutting from his silver-tinged pubic hair.
“Gah! Old man dick!”
“Oh shit! He gonna ram you, Jaycee!”
“You motherfuckin’ little shits best get the fuck away from me! We fuckin’ in here, alright? I don’t come to ya mama’s place and heckle you when you fuckin’ her stank asshole, Paulie, don’t you dare come after me!” Avery bristled because he felt Avery come up behind him, licking his back and his ass. Avery’s hands roamed around to Cooter’s front and jacked his dick off right there in the threshold. The other workers ran around in the parking lot making nervous jokes and pretending they weren’t sneaking glances.
“Hmmm… Will you ram me now, daddy? I need your cock inside me. Please? Stick it in me and don’t use a condom, just fill me up with your cum-“
“Quit beggin’, of course I’ll ram you. I just gotta make a point. Stand here and grease yaself up,” Cooter said. He tried to grab Vic de Santo when he ran near the door — attempting to throw cold water on Cooter’s head, though Vic’s water bottle only had a little water left in it, and it wasn’t very cold, so Cooter didn’t notice — to punch him, but Vic escaped from his grasp.
“Shit, Vic!
“Old man balls! Old man balls! That’s what we callin’ Cooter now: Old-Man Balls! Lookit that, man, he got dangly balls-“
Cooter cursed under his breath and turned around. Avery had bent over right there, using the door itself for support. Cooter grimaced and got behind him. With the door swung all the way open, Avery’s head was mostly concealed by the wall, but his ass was plainly visible from outside.
It was so smooth and greasy, lubed up now — the warehouse carried lube, so Avery had opened a bottle — it got Cooter’s attention. He was annoyed by the young men’s caterwauling, but the sight of Avery’s ass got his dick throbbing again. It looked so feminine. His hips were hourglass-shaped, his cheeks plump and perky, his hole tight, begging him to plow into it. He looked more feminine from behind than some of the females Cooter had been fucking lately.
His dick wedged in, and Cooter sucked in his breath. The guys backed even farther away, nearly all the way to the bus stop, pushing each other towards the warehouse.
A throaty sound escaped from Cooter’s throat. He couldn’t believe how good it felt when his dick slipped in. The door swung on its hinges because Avery had to use it for support. He pressed his face against the cold steel door and held onto the knob with both hands.
“Oh shit…” Avery moaned. His prostate sent waves of pleasure through his body. The fact that Cooter was more focused on looking tough for the guys outside just made it hotter — Avery was being used like a toy, his face hidden by the door itself, and only his ass mattered. He couldn’t open it wide enough, but that didn’t slow Cooter down any.
He gripped Avery’s smooth ass and plowed in over and over, bending his wrinkled silver muscles this way and that so the others would notice. He even flexed his fleshy biceps and pounded on his chest like Tarzan, prompting a wave of hoots and laughter from the bus stop.
“Oh god, deeper! I love your old cock inside me!” Avery screamed loud enough for the others to hear.
Cooter licked his lips. His face was red, veins throbbing against the taut skin of his neck, his weathered cheeks glistening with sweat, silver hair matted to his chest with the spit from Avery’s worship.
“Ow, damn, son, don’t move, don’t move, don’t move-” He gripped Avery’s shoulder and held on as an orgasm exploded within him. “I said don’t move, boy! Stay still-” He groaned, voice wavering as he came.
“Oh shit, Old-Man Balls is cummin'”
“Go lick his nuts, Jaycee! You said you wanted to-“
“You prolly got a big ol’ hardon-“
Great wads of cum sprayed into Avery’s ass, more than he thought possible in such an old man. Cooter’s wiry pubic hair scratched Avery’s smooth cheeks. Fluids sloshed around inside him, the heat seeping into Avery’s flesh. Avery cried out, his own orgasm overwhelming him in waves.
Avery shot a cumwad onto the floor of the warehouse, sight of which made the other workers grumble nervously — it was one thing to sneak glances at them fucking, it was another thing to watch Avery shoot his cum on the ground, while Cooter’s gray muscles flexed and glistened.
“Ah…” Cooter didn’t intend to drop Avery to the ground. But the pleasure wracking his body was so intense he couldn’t help but grab Avery by the hair and pull his head up. His intent was just to more tightly control the position of Avery’s ass, but when Avery couldn’t hold onto the door anymore, they both thudded painfully to the ground.
“Shit! Did he just bodyslam that man?”
“Oh god, he’s really cornholin’ him!”
They all rushed the warehouse because, for a moment, it looked like Cooter had rammed Avery’s face onto the cold cement floor. But it hadn’t been as violent as it looked, Avery was fine, a little pain in his ass and his knees, but it was overshadowed by the waves of pleasure wafting through him.
Cooter writhed atop him, toes curling, cock grinding within every corner of Avery’s asshole. His cum was a big frothy mess now and still Cooter plowed, until it had all slipped out into a nasty puddle on the ground.
“Goddamn…” Avery said with a moan, his voice weak and tinny. The guys heard the pleasured tone to his words and stopped short in the parking lot. They nervously looked away.
There was some nervous snickering, but nobody laughed out loud now as they watched Cooter’s wrinkled ass — which was ropy, well-muscled and taut, covered in fine grayish hairs, writhe, dimple, flex, his limpening dick roaming around in the cummy soup that filled Avery’s hole.
“Shit, boys, watch this…” Cooter lifted his upper body off Avery’s soft frame. He grimaced, and the guys watched with baited breath, wide eyes and nervous, voiceless chuckling as Cooter’s long dick slowly slipped out of Avery’s asshole. “Lookit that, he gapes like a porn star-“
“Nobody wanna see that, old man,” Jaycee said quietly, even though everyone stared as it happened.
“Shit…” Cooter moaned. His cock flopped out, and Avery sighed. Avery twitched. He scampered away and jumped to his feet. He blushed at the sight of the strangers all staring at his naked, cum-soaked body.
“Goddamn, Cooter.”
“You really rammed him good.”
Cooter aimed his crotch so his heavy cock and low-hanging balls were plainly visible. “I can break open any asshole so good it falls off. I know how to get my dick wet, on account of I ain’t no squeamish pansy like you little shit-sandwiches.”
Avery hurried into the warehouse while they all made fun of Cooter. Avery got the box of lotion that Cooter had left on a shelf. He brought it back to him, along with his clothes and some wetnaps he used to wipe Cooter’s dick clean.
Cooter grunted and watched Avery clean his dick off. ” Sissies is nice, they clean you up. Girls make you do that yaself-“
Paul snorted. “Yeah, that’s a good reason to do it, Old-Man Balls.”
“Fuck you, young buck-!”
Another argument was about to develop when the rumbling engine of the bus could be heard. It was on its way.
“Ah, shit-!”
“Don’t let it leave, man!”
“Who’s driving today? Wave ya hands so he sees us!”
They all ran to the bus stop, all except Cooter, who stood there with his shirt in hand, ready to put it back on. He paused for a moment, made sure no one was looking at him, then wrapped Avery in his arms, kissed him on the lips, rammed his tongue down his throat and pulled away, all in about two seconds.
“There. I-” He paused to gag because Avery’s mouth tasted like precum. “I kissed ya. You like that, huh? You lemme ram you e’ry day and I’ll kiss you one time. And take ya money and lotion, but I kiss you e’ry day. That make you feel good? I kiss you one time if you lemme ram like that e’ry day, all that gaggin’ and shit, and lettin’ me pound into you. That’s good.” He pointed at Avery as though he was accusing him of something. “Don’t tell no one ’bout the kissin’, and from now on we gotta do that first so you don’t taste like dick when I kiss ya.”