featuring black men – Page 3

On the Downlow

As the city burns in riots over police violence, recently released ex-cons Thumper and his prison wife Angel find themselves sharing the night with a handsome young thug named Rico… Can Rico make it through the night with his dignity intact?

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Read the whole thing here!

There were three people at the apartment that night as the sultry heat led to tempers flaring in the city streets outside. Timmy Angel was one, and another was Thumper White. The two of them were released from prison at the same time a few weeks ago and were living together in a small apartment.
As he looked out the window, where an occasional rioter fled cops heading towards Sycamore or a fracas of rowdy protestors spilled down the ave, Angel shook his ass and made a cock-swallowing face for Thumper, who growled and pursed his full lips. He licked his teeth and sucked on his tongue.
“Yo, whiteboi, you pretty on the eyes,” he said. “You got ass like a homeboy. I like that.” His eyes roved up and down Angel’s body, taking him in. He took a deep breath. “I already invited over this homeboy named Rico. I guess we gonna have a three-way. Rico’ll do it. That okay with you?”
“Hell yeah!” Angel said, and Thumper laughed — or rather, he lowered his eyes to slits and breathed slightly, which was as close to laughter as he could get without losing his hardcore-menacing-thug look.
“Good. I be in charge, whiteboi,” he said. “I set the rules-” He stopped because a torrent of sirens filled the streets with shrieks and then faded to a distant whine..
Thumper and Angel went to the window to look outside. There was smoke rising into the air in the distance, it looked like the library had burned down, or some building close to it. There was shouting, screaming, the rattatat of gunfire echoing in the night-time sky.
“You think this shit gonna lead to change?” Thumper asked. Angel wrapped an arm around his waist and hugged him like a girlfriend. Thumper patted him gently, and Angel nuzzled his muscles. He smelled like cocoa butter.
“Uh… Well, that’s hard to predict,” Angel said. He shrugged. “Things usually don’t change, but somehow… things are always different.”
Someone knocked on the door then, conveniently rescuing Angel from trying to come up with a better answer.
The man at the door was Rico. He was much younger than Thumper, at barely twenty-one years old, and he was a handsome, slimly-muscled thug with dimples and an ass so thick it looked like a mismatched body part, like he had stolen it from a bigger, taller man. He wore baggy jeans that were slung low enough for Angel to get a good look at his shorts-clad asscheeks. He sauntered in, swagger thick as pudding, and he sucked on his teeth. He bristled when introduced to Angel, like he done reach his limit for meeting white men. He lowered his eyes and glowered. Outside, there was the sound of twisting metal and a loud crash — a car accident, somewhere far away.
“Yo, homeboy,” Rico said to Thumper once he was in the apartment. He sighed and rolled his eyes. “I… I’ll do whatevuh you want, but let’s just do it.”
“Whatchoo mean?” Thumper narrowed his eyes to slits.
“I mean… I know…” he laughed to cover up his nervousness. “I know, uh… them other homeboys told me why you wanted me to come over here. I-“
“Them other homeboys shouldn’t be talkin’ ’bout shit they don’t understand. I told you to come here tonight cuz you workin’ fo’ me now that I’m outta the joint. We gotta get to know each other,” Thumper said. “You gonna be slingin’ my rock, so I gotta know what you is like.” He clasped Rico on the bicep and squeezed. It started off like an affectionate pat, but Thumper left his hand there, massaging Rico’s arm.
“Yeah, uh… I already know what you like,” Rico said with a sigh. “You into that prison shit.” He shrugged. “Whatevuh. I’m hardcore, I’ll do hardcore shit.”
A long awkward silence ensued. Angel’s heart skipped a beat. There was gunfire outside, but Thumper and Rico ignored it.
“Take off yo’ shirt, homeboy,” Thumper said after a long pause. He flared his nostrils. “I gotta make sure you ain’t wearin’ a wire.”
Rico took off his shirt. He had been a basketball player in high school, and he had largely kept up the same training regiment even now, giving him a perfect six-pack and a powerful chest. He carried himself like he thought he was bigger and taller than his actual size. Thumper would say he was uppity like a fog in the sky. But Thumper do enjoy a pretty young nigga with dimples and a booty too big for his britches.
“I mean… Thumper, you ain’t gotta… y’know, grope me and shit,” Rico said. He glared again at Angel. “I’ll do it. I know… They said you was gonna, y’know, make me jerk you off.”
“I ain’t a ramrod,” Thumper said.
It did not look like Rico believed that. “Well, uh… just… you ain’t gotta seduce me, homeboy. I done fuck around on the downlow before. C’mon, tell me what to do.”
“Maybe I like seducin’ homeboys, man. Shut yo’ mouth. Don’t just say it. Seduction is half the fun,” Thumper said. He delicately kissed Rico on the side of the cheek and frowned when he winced. “Today is yo’ lucky day, Rico. Cuz I got this pretty whiteboi right here. He gonna service us both. You ain’t gotta do nothin’ but sit here and look handsome.”
“Oh… okay…”
Thumper cleared his throat. “Well, you gotta do a few things besides look handsome. Go on and do some push-ups, homeboy.”
Rico rolled his eyes. He just wanted to get straight to the nasty stuff so he could finish up with that and leave. He was missing the riot. If he went out there soon, he could still get into a few stores and do some looting.
He got down on the ground to do his push-ups, while Thumper and Angel sat on the couch together. Angel buried his head in Thumper’s arms. Thumper had taken his shirt off as well, so Angel could rest his face in Thumper’s bicep and smell his funky armpit while they watched Rico work out.
The lines on his back flexed and writhed as though his muscles were trying to escape. He had a little padding over his flesh — the perfect amount of padding in Angel’s eyes — but when he was stretched and straining to do more push-ups, all that padding seemed to disappear, leaving behind nothing but powerful curves gleaming with beads of sweat.
Angel kissed Thumper’s bicep, which flexed beneath his lips. Thumper didn’t look away from Rico though, and he listened intently as Rico grunted with each push-up. Angel smiled. Rico seemed to be surprised by how exhausted he was, like he had thought he was just supposed to do a few push-ups to pump up his muscles, but Thumper had him continue until he struggled to keep going.
Thumper watched like a coach angry over an insolent player, or like he was annoyed Rico hadn’t turned into a woman already. His muscles flexed where Angel touched him.
Then Thumper kissed Angel on the lips — he grabbed Angel’s hair and lifted his head. He kissed him as though it was an attack, planting his lips on Angel’s and shoving his tongue into Angel’s mouth. He held Angel’s head in place and opened his mouth wide.
Angel was so shocked by the suddenness of it that for a moment his tongue just lay there like a dead fish. Then he kissed Thumper back, their hearts pounding in sync as Angel contorted in Thumper’s powerful grasp.
“Ugh! That’s that nasty-nasty,” Rico said. He’d stopped his push-ups and was on his knees now, his upper body gleaming with sweat.
“Shut yo’ face. I ain’t say to stop yo’ push-ups, did I?” Thumper snarled. “They tol’ me that the only reason they give you any responsibility is on account of yo’ muscles, homeboy. So I gotta make sure they as big as can be. Do a hundred more push-ups.”
Rico shook his head and rolled his eyes like he didn’t want to do it. He had already done at least a hundred push-ups. His eyes flickered to the riots outside the window. “It’s hot in here,” Rico said. “You got air conditioning?”
“Nah. Take off yo’ pants if you hot.”
Rico hesitated like he didn’t want to do it, but he accepted that it was going to happen eventually anyway. He took off his shoes and pants. His ass was perfectly plump, cradled by his tight boxer shorts.
The sight of his cheeks, fabric clinging to the skin by the fresh sweat that dripped over his ass, made Angel so hard he had to resist jacking himself off right then and there. But instead Thumper kissed him some more.
Finally Rico groaned and collapsed onto the floor on his belly. “That was a hundred, Thumper. That was a hundred thirty-three total.”
“Was it? You sure you count right?”
Rico lay flat on the floor on his belly, covered in sweat. His arms and shoulders quivered. “Yeah, nigga. I sure. I counted right.”
It seemed clear to Angel that Thumper didn’t know if that was or was not right — Thumper was making out with Angel the entire time. It would be impressive if he maintained a count of Rico’s push-ups at the same time.
“You dance, homeboy?”
“What?”
“I axt you if you dance. homeboy.” Thumper spat his words like he didn’t tolerate repeating himself. He scowled at Rico.
“Uh… Yeah. I mean… Sorta.”
“What? You best get better at answerin’ questions, nigga,” Thumper said. He kissed Angel again, frowning at Rico as he watched his body tremble on the floor. Angel nuzzled the tight, tattooed flesh of Thumper’s neck. He inhaled of his delicious old-homeboy scent — Thumper wasn’t really old, but he smelled like an old man, like all the older homeboys he had lived with behind bars until just a few days ago. He smelled like an old homeboy whom time had left behind.
That was fine with Angel. He didn’t like conflict, but he loved Thumper’s body. He tongued Thumper’s prison-toned chest and arms as Thumper settled back to watch Rico, who stood on weak knees at Thumper’s command.
“Dance for me, homeboy. Make it girlish,” Thumper said.
Rico had that macho awkwardness around dancing, especially in an unusual situation like this. He actually danced a lot — with girls, in darkened nightclubs, when no one really paid much attention to him, and where there was loud music playing with an easy beat to dance to. None of that was true right now, so Rico did little more than writhe awkwardly.
But Thumper nodded as though that was acceptable. He looked Rico up and down hungrily, like he wanted to reach out and touch Rico but wasn’t allowed to. Instead his hands roamed over Angel’s smooth body.
“You a pretty whiteboi.”
Thumper’s fingers were callused and work-roughened from his time behind bars. He had worked on a chain gang nearly every day of his thirty-four years behind bars. He had built most of the new prison infirmary building, and Angel could sense all of that hard work in this thickened pads of his fingertips caressing Angel’s smooth skin.
Now that he had gotten started, Rico was dancing a little better, with more confidence. He bounced around in front of the couch, his massive cock and balls flopping beneath his boxer shorts.
“Turn around and get yo’ ass up in the air,” Thumper said. He resumed kissing Angel, as Rico backed himself up and started to shake his ass right in front of Thumper.
His boxer shorts stuck to the skin of his ass as he shook his cheeks. Thumper watched those massive globes tremble and vibrate in sync with an unheard beat — the only sounds in the apartment, aside from moist kissing and Rico’s tired grunts, were the pop of gunfire, the blare of sirens and the shouts of an ongoing brawl outside.
Then, without warning, Thumper rammed his entire face between those cheeks, planting his nose in the fabric covering Rico’s asscrack. Thumper loudly inhaled, like Rico was cocaine and Thumper wanted to snort him up, and he sighed at the intensely sweaty smell in his nostrils.
“Take off yo’ shorts now, nigga,” Thumper said. He guided Angel’s hand to his crotch. Thumper still wore his jeans, so Angel massaged his cock through the denim. It was rock-hard and throbbing already.
Rico bristled as he dropped his shorts. His brown ass was perfect, and his mandingo dick was so big Angel could see it from behind, where it dangled between his legs. It was like a forearm, Angel thought, a veiny slab of meat that Angel wanted to suck to the root.
“Keep dancing.”
He sighed again but did so. His bare asscheeks shook in front of Angel’s face, but Angel focused more on kissing Thumper’s nipples, sucking on his powerful pecs, as he stroked Thumper’s cock.
The smell of his fresh sweat was alluring. It was intense and it brought tears to Angel’s eyes. He wanted to lick that ass more than anything.
“Go’n, whiteboi, do it,” Thumper murmured. “I wanna watch you do it.”
Angel’s heart thrilled as he dove between those cheeks. Rico yelped in surprise, and he stopped moving, bent over with his ass high in the air. Angel had to stretch his neck to reach his ass.
The sweat tasted just as good as he hoped. He licked each asscheek, and a jolt of desire shot through him as he felt Rico tremble beneath Angel’s tongue’s touch.
It was Thumper who guided Angel’s head. He grabbed Angel’s hair and rubbed his face up and down between Rico’s cheeks, murmuring and groaning as Angel licked and sucked on every inch of Rico’s backside.
“Turn around, Rico,” Thumper said.
Rico did. His eyes were half-closed, and his dick was half-hard, sticking straight out from his hairy crotch. He was a big man with a cock to match; it was at least twelve inches long and it wasn’t even fully erect yet.
“You hard, homeboy,” Thumper said with an annoyed grunt.
Rico winced and frowned. “I don’t mean nothin’ by that, Thumper. E’ryone knows you into this shit. I just like gettin’ my asshole licked. Not many girls is into that.”
“Hmm-hmm,” Thumper said. “I need to check ya for contraband, homeboy. You got a wire under there?” His hand snaked between Rico’s legs and under his balls. He thoroughly fingered the flesh there, making Rico’s dick twitch and grow even harder.
Angel started sucking without really thinking about it. He got the feeling Thumper wanted him to, and of course Angel wanted to, and it seemed Rico was eager to just get his nut off so he could go out and loot with his homeboys. So Angel swallowed his cock while Thumper played with Rico’s balls.
“Damn…” Rico laughed to cover up his anxiety. “I, uh… I know you ain’t checkin’ for a wire under my balls.”
“Shut yo’ facehole, Rico.”
He deep-throated Rico’s cock even before Rico started throating him down. He nestled his nose deep in Rico’s crotch, his tongue slathering saliva all along the shaft as it pulsated inside Angel’s throat. He couldn’t quite deep-throat the whole thing, but he enjoyed trying.
One of Thumper’s hands was on the root of Rico’s cock, stroking it, just that little length that Angel couldn’t fit into his mouth. Thumper’s other hand wrapped around Angel’s body, gently stroking Angel’s dick — since Angel was on the verge of blowing his load already, Thumper didn’t fully jack him off, or Angel would have cum in seconds.
“You ain’t gotta cover it up, Thumper. No one cares. They know you did time for the organization, nigga,” Rico said. His voice broke and he shuddered as a wave of pleasure went through him. Sour-sweet precum coated Angel’s tongue. Rico grunted. “They got respect for you even if you a pervert.”
“I said shut yo’ facehole, Rico,” Thumper said. “I’s just gettin’ to know you, that’s all. We gotta know each inside and out, nigga. ‘Specially inside.” Then he pulled on Angel’s hair to drag his face off Rico’s cock. In one smooth motion he leaned in and licked Rico’s shaft, from root to tip, slowly and with great care like if he did it wrong, Rico might shatter into a million pieces. Rico shuddered. Thumper smiled, then reinserted Angel onto his cock. “Now I know you a little better, Rico. I need to rely on you to do yo’ part, and I need to know how you work. Now I know how a piece of you work.”
“My cock? You know how my cock work, homeboy? It work the same as any other cock, nigga-” Rico cut himself off and blanched as Thumper scoffed at him. Rico bit his lip. Then his dick spasmed and his balls crawled up in his sac. Angel could feel the orgasm beginning in his cockroot and extending out in waves. Rico’s muscles flexed as Thumper massaged his chest and his plump asscheeks.
Then a burst of cum sprayed into Angel’s mouth. It was a thick and creamy load, which coated Angel’s tongue and the roof of his mouth. It trickled down his throat.
He continued cumming for what seemed like a long time, as though there was a big backlog of cum in his balls. Angel moaned at the salty flavor overwhelming him, and Thumper even moaned too, his face so close to the action that Angel’s sputtering resulted in drops of cum and spit landing on Thumper’s face.
Then finally Rico was done. He sighed. His cock throbbed as it grew limp in Angel’s mouth.
“You blow a good load, homeboy,” Thumper said. He kissed Angel on the lips, licking up the remnants of cum that still coated Angel’s face and tongue. He groaned into Angel’s mouth. “Yeah… now I think we gettin’ to know each other fo’ real.”
Rico took a step back. He pulled his exquisitely sensitive dick away from Angel’s face. Thumper stroked his moist shaft.
“So, Rico… Do you like the taste of chocolate or vanilla better?” Thumper asked. He and Angel leaned back on the couch.
Rico rolled his eyes. “Uh… Chocolate, I guess.”
“I’m glad you said that, Rico. You got a nice mouth. My dick’s gonna look real nice in there,” Thumper said. “Come here and sit on this whiteboi’s cock.”
Rico shrugged. He turned around with his ass aimed at Angel, who had him wait for a moment while Angel licked his hole some more to open it up. Once he had it well-lubed with spit, Angel leaned back. Rico gritted his teeth as he lowered his ass onto Angel’s meat.
All at once when Angel’s cocktip slid into Rico, the big thug grunted, his muscles tensed and his asshole clenched. A jolt of incredible pleasure shot up Angel’s spine.
“Relax, homeboy, take a deep breath,” Thumper said. He massaged Rico’s ass, rubbing on the fleshy cheeks and caressing his back. Rico remained right there with just the first couple centimeter’s of dick inside him. Thumper licked the sweat off his back. “Ain’t nuthin’ bettuh than watching a homeboy get it up the ass fo’ the first time.”
“Ain’t the first-time, homeboy. I tol’ you I mess around on the downlow, right?” Rico wrinkled his nose. “No pro’lem. Feels fine. I don’t even notice no whiteboy dick.” Despite that, he did grimace in pain.
Thumper snorted like he was disappointed, but he didn’t say anything. Rico bit his lip as he lowered his ass a little more. Angel’s fat white cock slid into his tight hole.
The positioning was awkward for Angel, though all he had to do was sit there. Angel massaged the muscles of Rico’s back, but could only reach halfway up, not even far enough to touch those awe-striking shoulder muscles.
Then Thumper stood up. His body was much more toned than Rico’s, his asscheeks like tight little orbs. He didn’t have a perfect six-pack either — he was too old for that — but he was thickly-built. He stood on the couch next to Angel, who was overwhelmed by stimulation from the massive ass now riding his dick. Rico grimaced and grunted with each motion he made, his ass lowering itself onto Angel’s throbbing meat.
From his vantage point on the couch, Angel caressed both Rico’s asscheeks and Thumper’s thighs. Meanwhile Thumper grabbed ahold of Rico’s head, and slowly, gently but firmly, guided Rico to face Thumper.
Rico sighed and opened his mouth. Without a word of warning, Thumper’s fat cock pushed in past his lips.
With Rico focused on the cock in his mouth, Angel could really start plowing his dick in. Rather than Rico lowering his ass onto Angel’s cock, Angel started to pump his dick upward, ramming Rico deep in his backside.
“Nice mouth, homeboy, I can tell you got good experience at it,” Thumper said with a moan. “You gotta introduce me to the homeboys you on the downlow wit’. I can swing downlow too.”
Though Rico flexed and snorted in pain at first, he soon relaxed, and he took every inch of Angel’s cock. It slid into him, slapping into his massive ass, as his muscles writhed beneath Angel’s touch. Angel reached around to handle his dick, which was still moist and soft — there was always something appealing, Angel thought, about playing with soft dickmeat. It felt like a piece of loose flesh, an extra muscle not attached to anything, and its veiny shaft pulsated beneath Angel’s grasp.
The whole situation was so incredible that Angel shot his load first. He pumped his dick all the way in, surprised at how intense his pleasure was as it rocketed up his spine. His fingers turned into claws that gripped Rico’s meaty back.
Cum flowed and poured into Rico’s ass. It coated his insides, its warmth spreading to every corner of his body. Angel could tell that his load was huge even though he couldn’t see it. He just sprayed wad after wad of manjuice into Rico’s body.
“Sit over here now, homeboy,” Thumper said, pointing to the spot on the couch next to Angel.
Rico pulled off Angel’s cock and sighed with relief as his ass emptied. A giant wad of cum escaped, landing on Angel’s dick and his thigh. Then Rico sat down on the couch, wincing as pain enveloped his sensitive ass when he first put his weight on it.
“Open up, but you gotta share, homeboy,” Thumper said. He didn’t give Rico much of an opportunity before shoving his precum-leaking cock back into Rico’s mouth.
Angel joined in. Rico seemed to want to let Angel take over on Thumper’s dick, but Thumper didn’t allow it. Angel had to stand on the couch in order to put his face even with Rico’s, so he could lick Thumper’s shaft and slurp on his balls.
“Both you handle a nigga dick pretty good,” Thumper said. Only Rico was really doing that though, since Angel was licking up and down Thumper’s juicy ballsac, slurping up the sweat that clung to his underside.
Angel had only barely gotten started when Thumper groaned. Thumper’s hands guided Rico’s up to his chest, where Rico awkwardly played with Thumper’s nipples. Thumper bucked his hips, slamming his dick all the way into Rico’s choking throat.
Angel felt the orgasm even before it began, in the throbbing of Thumper’s heavy ballsac in Angel’s mouth. Then those balls ascended in his scrotum, and Angel sensed the cum pouring forth from Thumper’s cock.
“Swallow it, nigga. So you get to know my body,” Thumper said with a moan.
Rico gagged at the taste of cum coating his tongue, but he didn’t stop. So much spit was generated that it spilled out past Rico’s lips, coating his massive chest and dripping onto Angel’s face.
It was both cum and saliva, as Rico drooled and accepted the torrent of fluids down his throat. Thumper’s powerful trunk-like thighs flexed and shook.
Finally, when he was done. Thumper pulled out and kissed Rico on the lips, tasting his own cum. Rico grimaced but accepted that. “Nasty, nigga,” he said when Thumper pulled away. “I knew you was gonna do that too.”
“Oh, you think you know e’rything, huh, Rico?”
Rico shrugged. “Can I go now? I wanna go loot some, befo’ the riot is all done.”
“Fine, nigga,” Thumper said. He sat next to Angel and wrapped his sweaty body around him. Angel snuggled into his muscles. Thumper smiled and kissed Angel on the cheek.
Rico stood up to leave. He looked relieved.
“Just make sure you come back,” Thumper said. “Get some lube while you out. Come on back befo’ too late. We got some all-night… tasks to perform.”

The Retired Boxer Bottoms

Avery is a masseur with an older man as a client. He’s a retired boxer, and he has some interesting ideas about how to get his needs met. Can Avery do what it takes to satisfy his studly new client?

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Avery awkwardly accepted payment from a client. He smiled and said some polite things, but that didn’t make the situation any less awkward. This client was a hefty young man, a beefy jock with a powerful body but also a big belly and a hairy, unpleasant ass. He had come to the massage parlor in search of sexy Asian masseuses who could give him a handjob for a few dollars. There were no sexy Asian masseuses here, there was only Avery, and he didn’t give handjobs to tubby stinkbombs.
It was a miscommunication that happened often in this massage parlor right off campus. It simply came with the territory. He didn’t mind — it was awkward, but on the other hand, he sometimes got a hunky jock who was just horny enough to go for it, and on those occasions, Avery both got paid and got to give a handjob.
He was finally almost done with college. He needed this one massage practical credit to complete his degree in physical education. Then, at last, his parents would get off his back about graduating.
He went back into his massage room and cleaned up in preparation for his next client, whose name was Carver Weatherbee. That was such an old-man name it made Avery chuckle to himself. He liked mature men with good physiques, but not old guys. Aa lot of decrepit old men came in here for massages in lieu of surgery they had declined over and over.
Carver Weatherbee was probably another man like that. Avery got a lot of that kind of business because this massage parlor accepted Medicare. They barely paid anything for the massages he gave, but Avery made them quick and simple. Some of those old people told their younger friends, family and nurses that he gave good massages. A lot of those who didn’t want a handjob — who genuinely wanted a massage — preferred to find out about massage parlors through word-of-mouth because all advertising for massage parlors ended up looking prostitute-y.
Carver Weatherbee… Avery snickered. If he was a screenwriter brainstorming names that screamed “old coot”, that’s what he would come up with.
He went out into the waiting area when he heard the bell tinkle, fully expecting to see a rickety white man with an oxygen tank and a Congolese nurse at his side.
Instead, however, he saw a mature black man with the physique of a warrior. Avery blushed and dropped his clipboard. He blanched and covered his face as he picked up it up.
Carver Weatherbee was about fifty, and, though his face didn’t look younger than that, he did have the body of a younger man. He was built like a boxer — which was because he, in fact, was a boxer. Or had been thirty years ago, and he’d been a boxing coach for more than a decade, helping him keep his barrel-shaped box-like stack of muscles intact.
His face was worn and weathered now, wrinkles along his cheeks and his square jaw. His hair was mostly black and streaked with gray, but his unkempt goatee was mostly gray and streaked with black. He chewed on his lower lip.
“Hiyuh,” Carver said with a sigh. He had rather hoped his masseur would be a woman, even though his daughter said that wouldn’t happen — she said “masseur” meant “male”. Carver didn’t believed her. As far as he was concerned, no self-respecting man would ever become a masseur. That was woman’s work.
He had forgotten about pansies, he thought as he followed Avery into the back. The pinkboy shook his ass in a most tantalizing way. Carver flared his nostrils, looking Avery up and down hungrily.
“So, uh, Mr. Weatherbee, is there a specific area of the body you need assistance with? I believe your daughter mentioned you had shoulder pain on the phone.”
“Umm-huh. Shoulder.”
“Okay, okay, well, I’m going to do whatever I can to make you feel better,” Avery said. He opened the door to the massage room.
Carver looked Avery up and down with a horny simmer in his eyes. Avery sensed that, and caught a glimpse of the tall man’s eyes aimed down at Avery’s ass. Was he checking out Avery’s behind? Or was he angry that he had to let a sissy touch him? Could be either one.
“Is it both shoulders that are hurting you?” Avery said. He patted the exam table, and Carver hopped up onto it. He wore a sleeveless work shirt, through which his long, fleshy arms protruded, the sleeveless hole having ripped to the point where Avery could see his side and his armpit. He wore tattered old basketball shorts too, the real long kind they don’t make anymore.
Avery shuddered with desire as Carver took off that shirt and explained. “So, uh, yeah, mistuh, uh, I gots pain in my left shoulder, evuh since this time last year, right, I was helpin’ this homeboy move into a new ‘partment on Windsor Ave, huh? You feel me?”
“Hmmm.” Avery had trouble focusing on his words because Carver’s chest and broad back beckoned. He took a deep breath and quickly checked out Carver’s joints — if there was something seriously wrong, Avery wasn’t allowed to do the massage; he would have to refer him to a doctor or orthopedic surgeon. But he saw no clear anatomical reason for pain.
“So, uh, this homeboy be askin’ me, like can I help and shit? Ya know? And I’s like, yeah, sure, cuz I’m his coach — I coach boxers and shit, y’know? And uh, I was like yeah I help ya motherfucker, but I ain’t know he wasn’t even gonna do nothin’. I ain’t expectin’ payment, ya feel me? I’s doin’ that as a friend. As a coach. As yo’ homeboy. You feel me?”
“Hmmm… Yeah, I, uh-” Avery wasn’t sure how this story seemed to have gotten away from the shoulder pain.
“But he ain’t even try and buy me no dinner or nothin’. He got a Puerto Rican girl too. They can cook, I reckon. They got them little tamale things — they don’t call ’em tamales, they slap the fuck outta you if you call ’em tamales. But they good as shit. I can eat the crap outta them, lemme tell you!” His big booming voice echoed.
“Your shoulder?”
“Right, yeah, so I’s like liftin’ and shit, puttin’ his junk in the truck, right?” He demonstrated himself lifting and even stood as though he needed to re-enact it. Avery didn’t mind watching because it meant he could see those broad shoulders flex and stretch. He even massaged them a little as he looked for anatomical irregularities. Carver continued the story. “See? And I lift his shit up into the truck — he got his girl’s brother to let ‘im borrow that. You best believe I don’t let no one borrow my truck, no suh, I tells ’em straight up I been burned on that one too many times. I don’t care if I’m yo’ coach, yo’ friend, yo’ homeboy, yo’ goddamn identical twin brother, I ain’t handin’ ovuh my truck, ya feel me?”
“Hmm-hmm. Your shoulder?”
“Yeah, so it started hurtin’. I tol’ that homeboy, you best show some goddamn gratitude, ya feel me? I done took you in when ya mama wasn’t takin’ no care of you, and I done raised you like a son, and you can’t even buy yo’ old man some pizza or some shit?”
Avery rolled his eyes. It took that incredibly long story and all he had to say was that he lifted something and his shoulder started hurting. Trying to get information from old people, he thought, was impossible.
“I see, okay,” Avery said. He patted Carver on that broad, firm back. “Go ahead and lay down on your belly. Take off your shorts please.”
Most men only took off their actual shorts, not their underwear. Even the ones who knew Avery would give them a handjob didn’t do that. But for some reason, Carver did, without a second thought.
He just dropped his shorts and his boxers, and flopped his limp dick between his fingers. “You ain’t gonna try and jack me off, is you?”
“No, sir,” Avery said. He was deflated. Obviously that clued him in that Carver was in the no-handjob camp. Avery almost added: unless you want me to but he thought that might not go over very well, so he bit his tongue.
“Shit, I don’t do that handjob nonsense. Man, that is some weakling bullshit,” he said. “I got real man dick, ya feel me? I got homeboy-dick.” He flopped his hefty shaft against his palm, then climbed up onto the massage table.
His back stretched out, his asscheeks bare and quivering as he settled into place. He had nice, huge plump cheeks, not perfect, just slightly fleshy and saggy, just the perfect amount, Avery thought, enough to grab onto and play with but not fat or flabby. He wanted to kiss each cheek.
“Man, I need this shit, damn. Wifey don’t touch me much these days, swear to God,” he said as Avery began kneading his back and his thick muscles. He rolled his spine, undulating as though trying to massage his own back on Avery’s hands.
He had that dense muscularity that barrel-chested men had, and which Avery adored. It felt like there were layer after layer of meaty muscle atop Carver’s body, and Avery caressed every inch of it.
“How’s that feel?”
“Good….” Carver said, letting out a deep roaring moan.
“Okay, you can roll over,” Avery said.
Carver hesitated. “Hey, so, uh… I don’t wanna, like… I mean, I ain’t mean nothin’ by it, but you know… I got a big dick and I get hard at anything, man, I swear, like a homeboy half my age. I ain’t meanin’ nothin’. I ain’t sayin’ I is gonna ramrod you or nothin’.”
“Oh? Do you have an erection? That’s okay, it’s very common,” Avery said.
Carver grimaced as he rolled over. His foot-long cock throbbed, as hard as his muscles beneath all his padding. That was not as common as Avery had implied — sure a little chubby here and there was normal, but a full-on throbbing boner? That was not typical.
As professionally as he could muster and without looking at Carver’s dick, Avery massaged his chest and his shoulders. Carver closed his eyes. He grunted like he was frustrated.
“Man, lemme show you a spot… Okay?” Carver’s callused paw gripped Avery’s hand.
Avery sucked in his breath. Carver brought Avery’s hand down to his cock. His fingers brushed against it. Carver opened his eyes wide.
“I thought you didn’t want me to… Do you…?” Avery blushed, his heart thumping.
“Ssssssh… I don’t wanna hear you askin’ no questions,” Carver said. “I said I don’t want no handjob, cuz I’m a real man. That don’t mean you can’t touch it a bit.” He gently touched Avery’s head. “You act a sissy, right?”
Avery nodded. “Yes, sir.”
He licked his lips. “Goddamn, I love it when whiteboys call me sir.” He watched as Avery’s hand wrapped around his cock and began stroking. Carver instantly threw his head back, sighed and pistoned his hips, forcing his dick up and into Avery’s hand.
He kept touching Avery’s head. It was obvious he wanted Avery’s mouth, but didn’t want to ask for it. Avery slowly lowered his head. He pretended to be hesitant, like he had never done it before. “Do you want me… to put my mouth on it?”
“Shush, no questions, boy. Just do what comes natural. You the massager, you know how to do it. Just massage me, okay? Massage me like you feel-” He groaned as Avery’s mouth touched his dick.
He guided Avery’s head as he licked the shaft, then suckled on the tip, making lots of spit drip down into Carver’s crotch. Avery deep-throated him the best he could.
Carver’s hand remained on his head, pushing and pulling him up and down. It soon became apparent he wanted Avery to focus on the underside of his shaft.
“Yeah, lick it down real low, man, lick it real low,” Carver said with a throaty moan.
Avery did so. He placed his head underneath Carver’s big black cock, which flopped all over his face. He licked and slathered spit on the throbbing vein there, near the base of his dick where it met his scrotum.
“Hmmm… You doin’ real good, boy, just keep slurpin’. Do what comes natural to ya. I know you like dick, right? You like balls too, most likely, I ‘xpect,” he said. He moistly sucked on his lower lip, making his salt-and-pepper goatee shake.
Does he want me to lick his balls? That seemed to be where he was pushing Avery’s head, so Avery obliged. They were big and full, ripe, moist with sweat and precum. He tasted salty and delicious. Avery guzzled it down and let his mouth with fill with that heavy sac, until his nose was pressed into the base of his shaft.
“Hmm, you got it, you got it good, boy, hell…”
Then in one smooth motion, without a word of warning, Carver lifted his legs. He was laying on his back, and he lifted his giant trunk-like thighs. That gave Avery easy access to Carver’s balls.
And his taint and his asshole. Does he want a rimjob now?
Avery did it. He licked a trail down Carver’s taint to his ass and plowed his tongue right in. Carver shuddered and moaned.
“I ain’t say you could lick my butthole, boy,” he said. He opened his eyes and lifted his head to look down. He grabbed Avery by the hair and made eye contact with him. “I’ll allow it this time, but I don’t let no one play wit’ my butthole. No fingers.”
Avery nodded. He was definitely trying to get me to lick his ass, he thought. What game is Carver playing? But for now, he just licked
Carver’s ass was warm and funky and just slightly hairy, just enough to remind Avery he was licking a man. Still though, he sensed Carver wasn’t quite done. Carver was waiting for something. When Avery tried to jack him off as he lapped at his asshole, Carver swatted his hand away.
Does he want to ramrod me? Avery was excited at the prospect.
Carver took Avery’s hand in his once more, taking it away from his cock and to his ass. He seemed to want Avery to spread his cheeks to get his tongue deeper in there.
“Don’t you dare finger me, sissy,” Carver said with a knowing smirk on his face.
Avery caught that smirk and stopped licking for a moment. Was Carver hinting the opposite of what he said? His face looked sarcastic. Did he want to get fingered? He dragged Avery’s finger closer to his ass.
“There ain’t nothin’ wrong wit’ gettin’ pleasure, boy,” Carver said. “I can get pleasure from all kinda females. Ya know? They do… different things.”
“Hmm-hmm.” Avery pulled off his asshole and slurped up all the moisture that leaked out of his tight hole. “Did you want me-?”
“No questions. Just do what comes natural, sissy. If I don’t like it, I will smack the tongue outta yo’ mouth,” he said, with a moist, gravelly mouth.
“I…” Avery wasn’t sure what to do or say. He resumed licking, but this time he planted his finger very near Carver’s hole. He played with the rim, just pressing down lightly.
Carver again pushed his hand, just a tiny bit, pushing his finger a half-inch lower.
That made Avery’s fingertip slip into Carver’s ass. Carver grunted and groaned, his whole body coming alive. He writhed in exquisite pleasure. Carver closed his eyes and covered his eyes with his arm, which bared his big furry armpit.
“Hmm, whiteboy, I like the way you think. Ain’t nothin’ wrong wit’ gettin’ a nut off in strange places, is there? Nosuh, nothin’ wrong wit’ that at all.” He sucked in his breath as Avery’s entire pinkie finger slid into his ass.
His ass is definitely not intact, Avery thought. He kept fingering Carver with one pinkie while jacking him off with his other hand. It made him giggle to think his tiny pinkie finger could bring such intense pleasure to such a large man.
He found Carver’s prostate and pressed, making Carver’s whole body quiver and flex. Carver sucked in his breath.
“You got a big dick, sissy?”
Avery blushed and looked up from Carver’s ass. His voice was shaky. “Uh… Not… huge, I guess. It’s… normal.”
Carver grunted as though he didn’t care. “I know you wanna bring it out. Don’t me stop you. Don’t you dare try and stick it in my ass. I ain’t on the DL.”
Now what was this? Given everything that had happened up to now, the only reasonable explanation was that Carver wanted to take dick in his ass.
But surely that wasn’t it.
Regardless, Avery did take his dick out and gave it a few strokes. He was ready to bust any time. He kept licking and fingering Carver’s ass, using both pinkies now, not even stroking him off. Carver had both hands behind his head.
“Shit, man, that little whiteboy dick ain’t barely bigger than yo’ pinkie,” Carver said. “Wouldn’t hurt at all to take that in.”
That had to be a sign. First of all, Carver hadn’t even looked. He didn’t know how big Avery’s dick was. Secondly, Avery’s dick was much bigger than any pinkie finger. He didn’t have a giant dick like Carver, but he was certainly way bigger than a pinkie finger.
He wants to get cornholed.
“Have you ever… y’know… been cornholed?” Avery asked. He blushed.
“I done ramrod some prison bitches and certain disreputable mothahfuckahs who needed to get taught a lesson,” Carver said. He chuckled, making his whole body writhe and clench around Avery’s fingers.
“So you don’t want to… get ramrodded now?”
“Man, yo’ questions is ruinin’ the mood. I said no questions,” Carver said. “I ain’t a bumbasher.”
Avery frowned. He still didn’t have a clear answer. Was a bumbasher a sissy? Or a ramrod? Either way, it wasn’t an answer to the question. “So if I started to put my dick near your ass, like this-” He stood up excruciatingly slowly and wedged his dick into Carver’s asscheeks. “You’d stop me if you were going to hit me for doing it?”
“I ain’t some kinda bashful homeboy. I will beat yo’ ass if you even think ’bout makin’ me into yo’ bitch,” Carver said, his eyes scrunched tightly shut. He closed his eyes, reached for his own ass and gripped Avery’s cock. He guided it to his hole. “You gonna stick it in, sissy?”
Avery thought the more he said, the less likely Carver was to keep going. So he just shrugged and slipped the tip of his dick in. Carver’s hairy tree-like thighs trembled. He had been holding them aloft for a long time, but he showed no signs of being exhausted.
With a stool to stand on, Avery was able to slowly drill his cock in. Carver squirmed and writhed as though he was already on the verge of pleasure — obviously, Avery thought, Carver loved the butt-stuff.
“Have you ever been ramrodded before-?”
“Hey!” Carver barked, wincing because that made his ass move painfully around Avery’s dick. “Hey! I ain’t nevuh get ramrodded, no way. I got… I got pleasures deep inside me, and yeah, I let mothahfuckahs go diggin’ for ’em…” He smiled like he was imagining it, and he even touched Avery’s chest as though there might be breasts there. “You pretty as pink, boy. I can forgive you not having titties. But remember, no way am I lettin’ you ram me — I got anal integrity, yessuh! I will let you… you know… when we in the throes of passion, boy, rules don’t apply. Don’t you dare go thinkin’-” He howled as Avery’s dick slipped the rest of the way in. “C’mon, boy, slam it in. Work it!”
Avery tried to plow him hard. But Carver was so much bigger than him that it was awkward, and Avery had to hold onto his legs for support. He pushed his meat in, using all of his might to keep Carver’s massive flesh in position.
He stroked Carver off at the same time, making it hard for Carver to stay still. He squirmed and gasped and bit his lip, undulating beneath Avery. Avery had never rammed anyone like this — not anyone that old, anyone that strong, anyone that macho.
He had never even thought this might be where his appointment with Carver Weatherbee would go.
It was obvious Carver was aroused because he shot his wad before Avery. Avery was still plowing into him over and over, making his big asscheeks shake. He felt Carver’s hole clench around him, and Carver let out a bellowing scream.
He gripped Avery by the neck and pulled him roughly down to his face. He kissed Avery on the mouth, tongue ramming violently in as Carver sprayed his cumwad all over his belly. Carver gagged too, from the taste of his own ass still clinging to Avery’s face, but that didn’t slow him down any. He kept on kissing as Avery plowed in and out of his ass.
At last, Avery orgasmed too, his tongue still intertwined in Carver’s. Carver’s goatee scratched at his face.
Great creamy gobs of cum filled Carver’s tight ass, more and more pouring out with each thrust of Avery’s hips. He slammed into Carver over and over — it was nice to plow such a big man, Avery thought, because he could really take a pounding.
“Ah, god-“
“Fuck yeah, whiteboy! Get it in there!” Carver slammed his fists on his chest and screamed in both pain and pleasure.
Avery shot the biggest load of his life. He’d never done anything like that. It made him scream and shout too, but his voice was much weaker than Carver’s.
Then, it was done. Avery blinked a few times, still in shock that this had even happened. His dick limpened slowly. He let it pour out of Carver’s ass, which gripped it as though not going to let go, even though Carver gritted his teeth and growled as though he wanted Avery to pull out faster.
“Ah, shit, whiteboy…”
Every inch sliding out of his ass was exquisite pleasure for both of them. Carver’s heart pounded, his whole body tensing and shaking until at last, Avery’s dick plopped out.
Carver was suddenly exhausted. He closed his eyes. His legs flopped down, nearly knocking Avery to the floor. Carver sprawled out on the massage table, arms dangling off the sides.
“Hmmm… You okay?” Avery asked.
“Hmm-hmm. You give a good massage,” Carver said. He didn’t open his eyes though. Avery got some tissues and wiped Carver’s dick clean, and then he rolled over so Avery could clean his ass.
“Thanks,” Avery said. He blushed. Carver looked like he wanted to take a nap. “Uh… did you…-?”
Carver sighed and stood. He looked down at his massive dick, dangling between his legs, and he winced at the pain in his ass. “Hey, boy, if I send you some homeboys. Boxers — they won’t all be homeboys, some’ll be Puerto Rican,” he said. “Would you take care of ’em?”
“Take care of them how?”
“You’ll see. Just do what comes natural, boy,” Carver said. He took his clothes in hand and walked out, not even getting dressed. His dick swung, still a bit hard, thwacking his meaty thighs. He sniffed his own armpit and wrinkled his nose. “Need a shower, damn…” he murmured to no one in particular.
Avery was too exhausted to tell him to put his clothes on before leaving the building. He didn’t care. Carver would figure it out, he thought, and after that tense encounter, Avery just wanted to nap.
Luckily he had no clients for a couple hours. Just as luckily, Avery was already excited about the prospect of a bevy of boxers coming through. What did Carver expect him to do with them? Avery could imagine he meant anything from giving a real massage to plowing them hard.
Oh well, he figured. I’ll enjoy anything in between there.

Jockstrap Raid!

The football team at GHU did a panty raid, which means the gymnast team is allowed to turn the tables… The jocks get their jockstraps raided, resulting in a massive-athlete multiple-man locker room showdown both teams will never forget!

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Last year, the football team had done a panty raid on the cheerleaders in the locker room. They stormed in there half-naked and shouted ‘Panty Raid!’ over and over as they grabbed used and clean panties from the girls. It was a big scandal at GHU afterwards. The cheerleaders themselves called it an enjoyable prank, but the feminist groups on campus were less enthused.
But now this year, Avery and the other gymnasts marched into the men’s locker room a few minutes after football practice ended. His heart pounded as he and the other gymnasts chanted, “Jockstrap Raid! Jockstrap Raid! Jockstrap Raid!”
That was because the gymnastics team had won the state championship this year, the first GHU team to win a championship in years. The football team had had a dismal season, so Coach Marshall told the gymnasts to come on in and go to town on the football jocks.
The players were sullen, sweaty beasts, angry with each other for having lost the season badly and having had a disappointing practice today. They stood and sat on benches in the locker room, dressed mainly in their jockstraps, though a few were naked, crotches covered by their hands as they watched the gymnasts file into the locker room.
“Jockstrap Raid! Jockstrap Raid! Jockstrap Raid!”
Avery blushed. He wasn’t used to being this forward. It was normal for athletes to be so horny they couldn’t resist stealing girls’s panties. But he and his fellow gymnasts just didn’t do that kind of thing.
“Give us your jockstraps, men!”
The gymnasts clapped and hooted as they spread out. Someone even turned the lights off, so the locker room was dimly illuminated only by the emergency lighting. That made it significantly easier for Avery, who didn’t feel like he was about to be beat up as he approached Jimmy.
Jimmy was the quarterback and team captain, and he had the most well-sculpted ass that Avery had ever seen. Once a few months ago, Avery walked past the men’s locker room and caught a glimpse into the door as it swung shut. Jimmy was there, wearing a jockstrap and nothing else, flicking a wet towel. His muscled back was covered in either sweat or shower water, Avery couldn’t tell which. There was a sink area near the door, so Jimmy’s presence near enough that Avery could see him from outside suggested that Jimmy and the team were engaging in horseplay there in the lockers. Avery had shuddered at the sight of Jimmy’s plump asscheeks cradled by a soaked jockstrap.
Now he went up to Jimmy’s shadowy body. He stood with one foot on the bench, mid-conversation with a linebacker when the gymnasts filed in. He remained right there, balls overflowing from his jock pouch where it dangled between his open legs. His broad muscles were bare, his crotch unblocked from view, cuz Jimmy was shameless like that. When he spoke, his balls jiggled in the pouch of his jockstrap.
“Give up the jockstraps, gentlemen!” shouted the gymnastics team captain, Fred. He was the most flamboyant and feminine of the gymnasts, and as he spoke, he shook his ass in his trackpants in front of the tight end Charlie Smitkowski, who giggled like he was watching his first stripper give him a lapdance.
“This is weird, Jimmy.”
“Don’t be fuckin’ squeamish, man. Ain’t a big deal. We told the cheerleaders it weren’t a big deal, so it can’t be a big deal now-” Whoever that was — Avery didn’t see in the darkness — squealed then, and there was an explosion of movement.
“Damn, whoever that was, that’s too much, you can’t stick your finger in my ass!”
Avery ignored the nervous laughter of the football players. He steeled his own nerves and reached out for Jimmy’s broad, strapping chest muscles. Jimmy must not have realized it was going to happen, because he yelped in surprise and his muscles all tensed at once.
That rolling undulation of his powerful muscles was enough for Avery to get dizzy and overheated. Jimmy dripped with sweat, and his pectoral muscles were like overinflated soccer balls, hard and unyielding yet soft and inviting at the same time. Avery leaned in and licked the sweat off his nipples as Jimmy joined the other teammates in laughter.
“Oh yeah, nasty!”
“Lick it up, boys! Lick it up!”
They laughed cockily as though they enjoyed being the object of attention from a bunch of flamboyant gymnasts, but they were all distinctly nervous. Their muscles remained tensed as the gymnasts explored their football jock bodies.
“Jockstrap Raid! Jockstrap Raid!”
Meanwhile Avery’s hands roamed down Jimmy’s body. Jimmy stood there, flat on both feet now like a soldier at attention. His muscles quaked like he was slightly ticklish or just plain nervous at Avery’s hands on the straps of his jock.
A part of Avery wanted to keep going and stroke Jimmy off, but he didn’t — nobody else was, and he didn’t think Jimmy would allow that. Coach Marshall hadn’t said they could do it (though he hadn’t say they couldn’t either). And the football players hadn’t had sex with the cheerleaders after the panty raid — or had they? Now Avery wasn’t sure. He knew he heard once that the football players had all eaten out a cheerleader’s pussy at the same, and they had switched girls as a competition to see who was best.
That seemed gross and unsanitary to Avery, but, he could hardly complain. Once he pulled down Jimmy’s jockstrap and had it in his hand, he shoved the entire thing in his mouth. He suckled on it, trying to get every drop of salty moisture.
“Oh damn, I ain’t think they was gonna lick on ’em!”
“That’s is fuckin’ nasty. We ain’t suck on the panties.”
“Raython did.”
“Fuck you, I did not! I licked one panty-“
“You brought it back to the dorm afterwards though-“
“I ain’t suck on it!”
A fight broke out. In the dark, Avery couldn’t see who was involved. There was a flurry of punches, shouts of ‘come at me, then!’ and ‘try me, bro!’ but soon enough it was done. Avery couldn’t even tell who fought — Raython exchanged punches with someone, but that only lasted a moment and was more friendly than a real fight. But the players bumped into each other, sparking a real fight. Avery was right there in the melee. His heart raced. In the dark, fists flew willy-nilly, and more than one gigantic hulking linebacker rammed into him accidentally.
Yet Avery didn’t want to find his way out of the crowd. Everywhere he looked and everyplace he flailed his hands, all he gripped was sweat-dripping muscles, hairy flesh and jockstraps that Avery was desperate to get his hands on.
“Come at me, then bro!” someone shouted, as a brief fight erupted.
“Fuck you, man, no fighting in the locker room!” Jimmy shouted as the other shadowy player got up and stalked off towards the showers. Jimmy wagged his fat cock in that player’s direction. He scoffed. As the team captain, it was up to him to make sure they didn’t fight in the locker room. He sighed and glared at his teammates.
The remaining players were crammed in so close together that Avery could barely breathe. He was short, especially for a gymnast, so on most of the football players, Avery’s face was even with their nipple lines or even lower than that. Since the players were crammed into a tiny part of the locker room, Avery was pinned between their slabs of sweaty meat. He stuck his tongue out and everywhere he turned, he lapped up a fresh batch of freshly sweat-dappled muscle.
“Fuck you, Jimmy! You thought we would win! You promised it-“
“Oh grow up, Tony! I’m the team captain, of course I said we would win if we worked hard and played our best,” Jimmy said. “What kinduva team captain would say anything else?” He put his hands on his hips. Avery managed to squeeze through the players until he was behind Jimmy, whose sweaty back pressed against Avery’s face. Without thinking about it, Avery’s hand began loosely caressing the light blond hairs of the small of Jimmy’s back. When Jimmy didn’t protest, his fingers moved lower, playing with the moist funk of Jimmy’s asscrack.
“Maybe you shouldn’t be our team captain anymore!”
“After the season is over?! There’s not even any point to having a team captain anymore. There’s no more games,” Jimmy said.
“The cheerleaders are going to the basketball team party. The basketball team barely did any better than we did, and they’re all gonna get blowjobs-“
“We were invited to the same party,” Jimmy said. “Come on, guys-” Jimmy bristled and tensed up as Avery’s finger brushed over his asshole, his tight, dark, funky hole. His voice cut off and broke.
“We can get you off!” Fred shouted, and the other gymnasts all cheered.
The football players exchanged odd glances in the dark. It looked like some of them had forgotten the gymnasts were here. Avery realized only just now that more than a few of his fellow gymnasts were stroking off the football players in the dimly-lit locker room. A few of the football players let out some nervous laughter. One of them walked away, shaking his head as he headed to the showers.
But most of the team remained. Avery couldn’t believe this was happening. His hand roamed from Jimmy’s ass to his crotch. Avery’s heart skipped a beat as he gripped that thick shaft.
“Uh… Is this… okay?” Jimmy asked, directing the question at his teammates. There was a chorus of sharp breaths as the football players gasped. They looked at each other, raising their eyebrows, questioning who was going to give in to this and who was going to go take a shower.
No one actually answered Jimmy, but since no one — including Jimmy himself — walked away, the answer was apparently yes, at least for those jocks who hadn’t already left (a few had). Someone let out a long, low groan that provoked laughter in the other players.
“Who was that? Huh? Someone really likes it!”
“That was Raython, I’m sure of it.”
“Guess again, motherfucker. It was Tuck.”
“No it wasn’t. The guy on my dick ain’t even do it very good, nothing personal.” That was Tuck, the left tackle, who gasped then as the gymnast on his dick fell to his knees and swallowed his dick all the way down to the root.
“Ah, shit they doin’ it now! They doin’ it!”
One by one, the football players each said it was no big deal. Even Jimmy said it, though his voice quavered and his body tensed like he didn’t entire believe that. Or maybe he was so horny that his body tensed beneath Avery’s grasp. His dick throbbed.
Either one drop of precum escaped from Jimmy’s cock, or maybe it was a droplet of sweat. Regardless, Avery felt it coat Jimmy’s shaft and Avery’s fingers, lubing his hand up.
Something had changed then. Avery sensed it, and he knew everyone else had sensed it too — this jockstrap raid had become a circlejerk. The jockstraps themselves tumbled to the floor, forgotten. Someone was already getting someone else off, Avery could hear the moist suckling sounds.
“Ah, goddamn, it’s true what they say about men throating better than females… fuck…”
Avery dropped to his knees to start throating as well He was so short that when he went all the way to the ground as he usually would, he was too short. He could have crawled like that between Jimmy’s legs and Jimmy’s balls wouldn’t have dragged on Avery’s back — Jimmy was just too tall.
So Avery had to stretch his head upright, on his knees in front of Jimmy. He still had to strain to reach Jimmy’s cock, which was just slightly hard. It twitched as though trying to run away from Avery’s mouth when he kissed it on the tip.
“Oh, damn, my guy is makin’ out with it,” Jimmy said, with one muscled arm covering his eyes even though he was in a darkened locker room so he couldn’t see anyway. He giggled nervously like a little boy. The other players were reacting similarly — all except Raython, who reacted like he did this all the time.
“C’mon,” Raython said, “Go deeper…” He groaned and moaned as he did so. Avery couldn’t tell who was licking Raython’s shaft, but whoever it was gurgled as Raython’s cock rammed down his throat.
But Jimmy was too ginger about this to do anything like that. He flailed his hands above Avery’s head as though he wanted to start guiding him but didn’t want to touch him, like Avery’s short hair would remind him that the person tasting his cock was not a girl.
By now Jimmy’s cock was hard as stone. It throbbed and pulsated in Avery’s mouth, and it twitched as though it had a mind of its own. It communicated its desire to Avery through its vibrations in Avery’s hungry throat.
“Holy hell…”
“I was not expectin’ practice to end like this…”
Even in the dark, Avery could tell that Jimmy was red-faced, his chest and neck ruddy as pleasure wafted through his body. He suspected that Jimmy would have never agreed if the lights weren’t off in the locker room.
One of Avery’s hands snaked out without him thinking about it and grabbed the muscular booty of one of the players standing nearby. Avery moaned as he felt another pair of sweaty asscheeks, which twitched nervously beneath his touch.
He moved down to Jimmy’s balls, which were heavy and low-hanging. They smelled rank with sweat right now, though that scent was mostly indistinguishable from the locker room itself. Avery made as much noise as he could because it made the football players laugh — a deep, boisterous chorus of laughter that echoed in the locker room — and the other gymnasts joined in.
“Ah fuck, he slurpin’ on my balls now,” Jimmy murmured. Some of the other jocks laughed at his shocked tone.
Soon the locker room was filled with the deafening roar of loud suckling, moist bubbling sounds and wet choking as the gymnasts sputtered on massive jock cockmeat sliding down their throat. More than a few of the football players made plenty of noise too, moaning softly, cutting themselves off because no one — save Raython, who was shameless — wanted to seem like they were really into this.
But the sharp gasps and hyperventilating made it clear how enjoyable this was for the players, including Jimmy, who felt up his own nipples now.
Avery guided Jimmy’s hand from his chest to Avery’s own head. Jimmy instinctively gripped him tight and slammed his dick all the way down. They both groaned, but then Jimmy pulled away like he hadn’t meant to do that.
“Damn, why couldn’t you have long hair like a girl?”
Avery wanted to explain why, but his mouth was full of ballsack. He had had long hair in high school, but it made him look like a girl from behind and the football jocks had teased him so much he cut his hair. It wasn’t conducive to serious gymnastics either.
He gargled on the balls in his mouth, making a loud, somewhat nasty sound that caused the football players to all laugh. Only Jimmy didn’t laugh, because he threw his head back and moaned.
He wasn’t paying attention, which was perfect for Avery’s new plan. He took ahold of Jimmy’s hand again. Before, he had guided it to his head so Jimmy could really get it down his throat, though Jimmy had been uncomfortable with that. This time, however, Jimmy was busy moaning as his sensitive balls bounced and dripped sweat into Avery’s mouth.
So Avery guided Jimmy’s hand to his buddy, who was the dark-haired wide receiver George. Jimmy didn’t seem to notice as he clutched his teammate’s muscled back, and his hand was guided down to George’s ass.
Both Jimmy and George realized what was happening at the same moment. They both yelped and jumped. Jimmy drew his hand away, and Avery giggled.
Avery kept his mouth in position beneath Jimmy’s juicy balls, but then he moved his tongue back as he slid between Jimmy’s legs. Avery’s tongue ran along Jimmy’s sensitive taint, causing a shudder to run up his spine.
“Ah, damn, that tickles…”
The sweat here was fresh. It was salty and grimy, and it made Avery’s own cock pulsate in his hands. He writhed and Jimmy must have felt similarly, because his knees buckled and he nearly fell over.
But Avery didn’t stop there. He continued licking Jimmy’s taint as though he wanted to lick right through the skin. Then he slipped through Jimmy’s legs and came up, tongue-first on the other side.
That meant his face dived between Jimmy’s asscheeks. Jimmy wasn’t a very hairy jock overall, but his ass had plenty of fine blond fur. As soon as his tongue ran over Jimmy’s sensitive asshole, Jimmy bent over and moaned. His teammates laughed at him, but no one could quite see what was happening so they didn’t know that Avery was giving a rimjob.
Jimmy had clearly never had anyone lick his ass before. He gasped in shock with every lap of Avery’s tongue on that sensitive hole, and he writhed as though it hurt when Avery finally entered his ass. He backed his hips up, penetrating himself with Avery’s tongue.
The sweaty ass-funk of Jimmy’s unwashed body coated Avery’s mouth. He loved licking a big macho straight man’s asshole because it always tasted so nasty in a perfect way — it tasted like pure manhood, like Avery had taken all of the things that make a man manly and put them in a blender, then chugged it by the mouthful.
“I don’t know ’bout y’all,” Raython said with a groan. He loudly smacked his gymnast’s ass. “But I’m gonna stick this guy in the ass. That okay wit’ you, queer?” He laughed.
“What?!”
“You serious, Raython?”
In the darkness, Avery couldn’t see, but it sounded like Raython wasn’t waiting for the approval of his teammates. A moist slapping sound filled the air, and Avery could tell that it was Raython’s uncut cock sliding into someone’s ass.
“Hell yeah, I’s serious,” Raython said. “Real men don’t care what they stick it in, y’know. When yo’ balls is full, you gotta drain ’em somewhere.”
“No way!”
“Uh-huh.”
Raython cackled. “What ’bout you, Jimmy? You a real man or what?” The laughter vanished. Avery stuck his tongue deep in Jimmy’s ass as he reached around to stroke Jimmy’s cock. Jimmy bristled and his spine arched. Avery got the impression that Raython was Jimmy’s chief rival for the team captaincy next year, so this was just the most recent of Raython’s attempts to degrade Jimmy’s manhood.
“Fuck you, Raython, I ain’t squeamish. You know that. I took sloppy ninths on that fat chick, remember-?”
“Yeah, that ain’t nothin’, Jimmy.”
“Nothin’?! There was cum oozing out of her, man! It was dripping off my balls in clumps!”
“You drew the short straw!”
“Yeah, I know, but if I was squeamish I would’ve backed out. And I am gonna stick my guy in the ass. He been beggin’ me for it,” Jimmy said. He roared and pulled his ass away from Avery’s face. Before Avery even realized what was happening, he was bent over the thin bench between the lockers, and Jimmy began to shove his dick in.
Avery was focused on two things — first, he needed to relax his ass so Jimmy could get really deep inside him in it. Second, he needed to balance himself on the narrow bench, at one end of which sat a player, the wide receiver George. He faced away from Avery as he allowed some gymnast to get him off.
Since Avery was behind George, every time Jimmy slammed his dick into Avery’s ass, that forced Avery’s face forward. The motion planted Avery’s entire head in the meaty asscrack of George’s body, which was hairier and thicker than Jimmy’s.
He stuck his tongue out. He would have tried to lick George’s ass, maybe even given him a rimjob while Jimmy rammed his cock into Avery’s ass, but Jimmy pounded so hard Avery couldn’t keep still. All he could do was leave his tongue poking out so as he moved he covered George’s asscheeks and his lower back in his spit. He wasn’t even sure if George noticed — the players and the gymnasts were still crammed into a small area, so hands and tongues and muscled bodies bumped into each other all over the place.
“Yeah, ram it in that ass!”
Then the sensations grew so intense Avery couldn’t even keep his tongue out anymore. Jimmy pounded into him, his gingerness diminishing with every thrust of his hips. He used one thick-fingered hand to keep Avery’s head low, and his other elevated Avery’s hips so they were at the perfect height.
Jimmy’s big throbbing cock slid in and out. The precum flowed like frothy champagne, rivulets of it dripping into and out of Avery’s ass. Jimmy slammed his cock over and over, grunting — his reluctance had switched to aggressive lust now that he needed to prove something to Raython, who pounded even harder.
“Ugh, I smell that…”
The smell of cum and santorum filled the air. Was that Raython? George? Someone else? Avery couldn’t tell. Someone shot a huge, ripe load that smelled so tasty Avery licked at the air, succeeding only in getting a tongue-load of George’s ass instead.
After that first person — whoever it was — came, the others followed suit quickly. It seemed no one had wanted to be first, but no one wanted to be last either. They sprayed their loads over their bottoms’s faces and down their throats, moaning and flexing their muscles as they did. More than a few of them even slapped hands with each other while orgasming and filling their bottoms up with cum.
“Yeah, take that shit! Swallow it!”
“Open up!’
“Gonna fill yo’ guts, boi. Gonna fill ’em up real good.”
The loudest was Raython, whose roaring and pounding on his chest could be heard over the satisfied gurgling of the others. He grunted as he sprayed his load inside his bottom’s hole, coating his guts in cum that dripped out and onto the floor.
The smell of cum seemed to trigger Jimmy, who moaned in disgust, then in pleasure as he ran headlong into his own orgasm. His dick tingled and quivered, sending waves of pleasure up from Avery’s prostate.
He and Jimmy both came then at once, Avery shooting his load onto the floor and into his own hand, while Jimmy filled him up. “Ah, damn…” For the first time, Jimmy stopped gingerly avoiding touching Jimmy’s body. His knees buckled, and he leaned forward until his massive chest rested on Avery’s bare back.
If Avery weren’t mid-orgasm, it would have been painful because Jimmy was so big. His quarterback muscles pressed down on Avery, which forced Jimmy’s dick in so deep Avery tried to howl at the intense waves of sensations wracking his body — he couldn’t howl, however, because he couldn’t take a deep breath.
“Yeah, take it… Take it all…”
The cum flowed into him like water from a hose. He and Jimmy both moaned. Jimmy’s chest rattled where it dragged against Avery’s back, and Avery could hear Jimmy’s orgasmic grunt through his fleshy chest in addition to through his ears.
Jimmy lowered his head as he came, and he either didn’t notice or didn’t care that his face was planted in George’s muscled back. Finally Jimmy’s cock twitched one last time, sending a final wave of bliss through Avery’s body.
Then Jimmy pulled off. His cock plopped out with an audible moist sound that made Avery shake with desire.
“Well, uh-” Jimmy’s voice was cut off by the lights flickering back on.
For a moment, both teams were visible. The football jocks were standing and seating, while the gymnasts were on the floor, hunched over, bent down, kneeling, groaning, writhing as they swallowed the cum that had just been sprayed over them.
“Hey!” Coach Marshall stood there, his face red. He blew his whistle. “Hey! Gymnasts, get outta here! I told you could come in and steal their jockstraps! I ain’t say you could steal their virtue! Get the fuck out!”
Avery felt a surge of fear, like he was going to get in trouble — he had always been a good student. He wasn’t used to being in trouble. But he saw that his teammates weren’t getting worked up. They slowly cleaned themselves and headed towards the door behind Coach Marshall.
“Football players! Get in the shower! Now! On the double!” He screamed at the top of his lungs, so loud spittle dripped from his lips. “We’re having a team meeting in the shower, and I’m turning the hot water off!”
The players grumbled, but they jumped into action. They were all naked already, so they hurried towards the shower, where a few of their teammates were already cleaning themselves off. The shower area was still steamy for now, because Marshall hadn’t yet turned the hot water off.
Avery and the other gymnasts just giggled and headed towards the door. As Avery passed Coach Marshall, he tickled his crotch and felt his middle-aged cock twitch underneath his own jockstrap. Avery had thought Marshall was intensely arousing since the first moment he laid eyes on him.
“Hey! I ain’t part of the jockstrap raid!” Coach Marshall said. Avery and his fellow gymnasts giggled. Coach Marshall’s authoritarian, drill-sergeant-vibe vanished like he didn’t know how to interact with non-jock men. “You had better not do this without permission, again, boys. I give permission for all jockstrap raids. Only me.”
“Well, when do we get to do it again?”
“Yeah, what about the wrestling team?”
Coach Marshall opened his mouth as though to bark out some orders. Then he nodded his head thoughtfully. “Yeah. Fine. If the wrestling team loses next weekend, you can do a jockstrap raid on them. And the baseball finals are the week after that…”
The gymnasts cheered over Coach Marshall’s recitation of the sports teams at GHU and their final matches, and Avery smiled. He thought he was going to enjoy his freshman year.

The Porn Star

When a porno shoot goes wrong, it’s up to one janitor to make it right! His name is Rob, and he’s eager to service the handsome porn star Bryan Plumper. Can Rob live up to Bryan’s expectations? Can Bryan satisfy Rob?

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Rob hung out in the hall. He wasn’t sure what was going to happen, but he couldn’t wait for it to begin. Inside the studio, he heard muffled words. It was all boring and banal for now though. None of the talent was on set yet.
That was why Rob waited. He had a mop and bucket, though he was not a janitor. He had sought out a role in the interracial-porn industry because he loved the men who filled it. He didn’t care what he did, he just wanted a chance to see — and touch — the gangbang studs he had seen on screen so many times.
A door opened. A tired-looking woman stepped out — Kelly was her name. She glanced in Rob’s direction but didn’t look at him. She headed onto the set. She was a porn star, or so Rob assumed. She certainly looked like it, rather hot, but trashy and made-up.
A few seconds later, Bryan Plumper came out of a different room. Rob recognized him and felt a thrill of desire running up his spine. He’d spent hours fast-forwarding through porno movies looking for shots where you could see Bryan’s handsome face.
He was flanked by two other men. All three were black. Bryan was ungodly handsome, with a square jaw and broad shoulders, deep dimples, deep eyes and a flat belly. He put out charm and easygoing swagger, and he carried himself like a gangbanger. His retinue were less attractive; one was tall and skinny, with a gaunt, grayish look (Lil Bee), and the other was tubby and dreadlocked (T-Boy). They carried themselves like security, but Rob got the impression they were just Bryan’s old friends, not actual bodyguards.
“Yo, nigga, hey,” Bryan said. He slapped hands with Rob. To an objective observer, it might have come across as polite — the well-known porn star saying hello to a nobody janitor. But Bryan Plumper had a certain smarmy, sarcastic way about him. It wasn’t clear how much was deliberate and how much was a default-douchebag face. So when he said hello to a stranger, it came across like an insult.
“Hey, hi,” Rob said.
Bryan scoffed a little and withdrew his hand. His bodyguards both scowled at Rob. Bryan just turned around and walked away. He muttered something, and his buddies burst into laughter. It sounded forced, like they only laughed at his poorly-delivered jokes because he was the boss.
When they burst into the studio, Bryan said something deep and booming. His two buddies laughed, but no one else did. Once again, it sounded to Rob like Bryan thought he said something very funny but no one else did. It also sounded like Bryan was oblivious enough that he didn’t notice that no one laughed except for the two people he paid a salary.
Rob waited outside the studio, pondering whether he could sneak in. He heard the filming begin.
“Oh yeah, bitch, I know that! I know that real good!” That was Bryan’s leering voice resonating out of the studio. There was some more laughter. This time it wasn’t just his two buddies, it was the crew too.
There was a clatter and a clang. It sounded like something fell. Rob hurried into Bryan’s dressing room and sprayed the mirror with cleanser. He wiped it off very slowly so he would still be half-done when Bryan came back.
“You like black dick, slut?!”
Only Bryan’s voice was that loud. Rob wasn’t even near the studio now, but Bryan’s deep barrel voice reached all the way here, or at least it was loud enough when he said certain lines.
“No, wait-!” That was not Bryan. It was a man, a white man, it sounded like.
“Ew!”
“What?!”
“That is so nasty! I quit! No way!” That was her. That was the woman, Kelly.
Rob poked his head out of the dressing room, just in time to see her naked body stride through the hall. She once again failed to notice him. She went into her dressing room and slammed the door shut.
Bryan popped out of the studio a moment later. He was naked, his massive cock swaying between his legs. It was rock-hard and throbbing, veiny, looking delicious like a gourmet meal. Rob wanted to ram it down his own throat right now.
Bryan’s muscles were tense like he had to hold himself back from losing his temper. He carried his arms away from his side too. He had an angry, harsh smile on his face as he pounded on the door.
“Fuck you, man!” She yelled out the door of her dressing room.
“Man, baby, don’t freak out, it don’t mean a thing. You was gonna put yo’ tongue in there,” Bryan said, holding back laughter. His tall buddy had his hand on Bryan’s bare muscled back as though he needed to hold Bryan up.
She came out of her dressing room, clothes half on. “Fuck you! That was never the deal! That wasn’t part of the script!”
“I ain’t mean to!”
“Bullshit! Not farting is a major part of getting a rimjob, asshole!”
Bryan laughed. “Nah, assholes is a major part of getting a rimjob. Farting comes with eatin’ asshole, baby.” His niggas laughed, pretending it was so funny they needed to grip Bryan’s sweat-dripping chest to support themselves. “I ain’t even do it, I just asked if I could-“
“Fuck you!” She strode towards the exit, one of her titties still hanging out of her dress. She carried her shoes. “You don’t know jackshit, asshole!”
“Oh come on? Don’t say no one ever talked to you like that, bitch! You got titties like deflated wine bottles, slut! You got flappy butt, bitch, you got sloppy ass!” He held onto his flat belly and laughed.
She slammed the door shut. The hallway was silent except for Bryan and his buddies standing there laughing. He was still naked, his dick still hard.
“Thanks, Bryan!”
He poked his head back into the studio. “Sorry, man, you should-a told me she was sensitive-“
“No one ever wants you to fart on their face, Bryan. I don’t need to tell you that.”
He chuckled. “It seems that you do,” Bryan said. He let the door shut, then hurried into his dressing room.
He was taken aback at the sight of Rob standing there. “Hey, man, sorry you had to see that,” Bryan said, snickering.
“No problem,” Rob said. He licked his lips. He could see Bryan’s eyes whirring as he thought — Bryan was not especially bright, and when he was trying to think about something, it was obvious. Rob waited patiently. He glanced down at Bryan’s throbbing hard cock. “Looks like you’re disappointed that scene isn’t happening.”
“Whatever. She was nasty. She smelled like garbage. I mean literally, like she slept in a fucking dumpster,” Bryan said. He shrugged. “It don’t matter. I don’t need the money.”
His two buddies bristled, and for the first time, Rob sensed a little conflict between them. He wondered if Bryan was telling the truth, did he really not need the money? Why would he have even tried to fuck a girl who smelled like a dumpster if he didn’t need the money?
“How much were you going to get paid?”
“Ain’t some janitor’s business, reckon,” Bryan said. “I get paid more than you, man.”
Rob smiled. “Fifteen hundred dollars.”
“What?”
“I’ll pay you fifteen hundred dollars,” Rob said. He grabbed Bryan’s cock, which throbbed in his hand. “In exchange for… Well, services to be determined later.” Bryan looked down at his dick in Rob’s hand and took a step away, but he didn’t make Rob let go.
His two homies chuckled nervously, but Bryan laughed a deep, resonant laugh that sounded like he was covering up his own anxiety. His pecs rippled. He couldn’t stop smiling, showing off those deep dimples.
“Yo, nigga, I ain’t, y’know… I ain’t into that downlow shit,” Bryan said.
“Then tell everyone.”
“No, I mean…” Bryan chuckled. “I just don’t do that.”
“You don’t want the money?” Rob kept squeezing Bryan’s dick, which was still hard.
Bryan was silent. His two buddies stared daggers at him, but Bryan pretended not to notice. Bryan had that cocky look on his face, beaming at Rob as though he wasn’t nervous. His dick was hard and pulsating beneath Rob’s grasp.
“I, uh… Course I don’t need the money, nigga. I don’t do this shit, sorry,” Bryan said. “You can play with it a little, but… uh… I don’t do sissy shit.” It sounded like he really wanted to say yes but couldn’t think of a way to do it while maintaining his reputation.
“I won’t tell anyone,” Rob said. He stuck one of his fingers in his mouth, all the way down his throat to show off his minimal gag reflex.
“That’s hot, I’ll admit it, that’s hot,” Bryan said. “Can you get two fingers down there?” He whistled when Rob did so. “I bet you swallow dick pretty good.” He swiped his cock away from Rob. “But I got a rep, homie. I got street cred-“
His tall buddy cleared his throat. “Damn, Bryan… You know, a lotta niggas do shit on the downlow. A lotta street niggas.”
“Real thugs,” said the fat one. They both glared at Bryan, who either didn’t notice or pretended not to.
“Whatchoo want, broh?” Bryan asked, lowering his eyes and staring intensely at Rob. His tone of voice had changed too, like he now thought he was charming enough to get money out of Rob without doing anything too sissy. “Huh? I can get you weed. Heroin. Coke. You want coke? I can bring you fifteen hundred bucks of coke tonight.”
“No. I want you.”
Bryan snorted. He shook his head. He pushed Rob against the wall of his dressing room. He still had that charming, deep-dimpled smile on his face. He grabbed Rob’s wallet out of his pocket. There was no cash in it.
“Fuckin’ liar,” Bryan said.
“Not a lie.” Rob pulled the cash where he had hidden it in his sock. Bryan tried to grab for it, but Rob pulled it away.
“Nah, nah,” Bryan said. He flared his nostrils. “Boy, I can smack the fuck outta you, you know that? I could just take it.” His smile was gone now.
But it was his two friends who pushed him away from Rob. They got in front of Bryan’s face and scowled at him.
“Nigga, come on, don’t get yo’self arrested. Just do it.”
“Yeah, man. We all know it won’t be the first time-“
“Ssh! Shush yo’self, nigga,” Bryan scowled. He looked at Rob. “He lyin’. I don’t do this shit.”
The fat guy pushed Bryan again, against the wall. “Yo, nigga, we ain’t got paid in weeks. I think you need to make that right.”
“We can always walk away, Bryan.”
Bryan gulped and smiled. He chuckled. He patted the tall nigga on the side. “Damn, calm down.” He took a deep breath. “I ain’t nevuh done nothin’ like this, I don’t do-“
“Shut up, nigga.” The fat one turned around and faced Rob. “He did this befo’. When we was comin’ up, there was this sissy dude-“
“Nigga, shut yo’ mouth.”
“Bryan ain’t nevuh make no money sellin’ crack. Even when he was doin’ it-“
“Shut up!”
“He wasn’t nevuh good at it. He just looked good. He just made it look sexy and got all the girls-“
“Nigga, shut yo’ mouth-“
“But they was all nasty girls and they made him pay for all kinds of shit to give up the booty, buyin’ em cars and shit. He ain’t make no money from crack, so he borrowed cash from us and from his grandmoms-“
“Nigga, I will bust you-“
“And he had this sissy cracker paying his rent all the damn time. Remember, nigga?”
The fat one laughed so hard his belly jiggled like Santa. “Remember that time Limey slapped you.” Then he imitated an older black man. “You sold one crack rock e’ry week, nigga. One rock a week. This ain’t some handmade crack where you sell it to connoisseurs fo’ an extra thousand bucks each, Mikey!” He guffawed. “That’s Bryan’s real name, you know. Mikey.”
“You fired, nigga! You fired for, spreading info’mation — false info’mation! — I ain’t payin’ you jack-shit!” Bryan’s face had turned reddish and he stamped his feet like an immature toddler having a breakdown.
They both laughed so hard they rocked back and forth. The tall one imitated someone else, a fae white man’s voice. “See you tonight, right, Michael? Right?” Then he imitated Bryan’s deep, smooth voice. “Yes, sir, Mr. Greenburg. I won’t go out to the clubs tonight so you can suck my armpit-“
“Nigga…” Bryan’s eyes were flat, his lips pursed. “That ain’t how it happened.” He paused. “Man, nigga, it weren’t even Greenburg who — Nevermind. Fuck you both. You’re both fired.” He glowered. Neither of his niggas responded like they thought they were really fired.
The tall one looked at Rob. “He’ll do it,” he said.
Bryan sighed and shook his head. “I… I ain’t say that.”
“Bryan, you have to pay us. That’s gotta happen. If you keep messin’ up yo’ scenes, you gonna have to make money some other way. You could still go apologize to that girl and make the scene. But you owe us money, man. You gots to pay it.”
Rob spoke up. “Two grand, okay? There’s actually two grand in that wad of bills.”
A long awkward silence filled the room. Bryan looked down at his cock — which was still hard — like it had betrayed him. He sighed and flared his nostrils again.
“C’mon, nigga. That’s more than you was gonna get paid for the scene,” the fat one said.
“Shut the fuck up, nigga,” Bryan muttered. He sighed. Without looking up, he whispered, “Fine. But if any of you evuh say anything, I will kill you, I swear to God. You two know I ain’t playin’.”
Judging from the look Bryan’s two niggas shared, they did think he was playing. Rob thought he was playing too. Bryan played like he was hard, but he was a lot softer than he let on.
Luckily his body was plenty hard. Rob planted his face right on Bryan’s left pec, which made him groan and throw his head back. His muscles tensed beneath Rob’s lips, as Rob slid down to his knees.
He was sweaty. He had gotten sweaty under the studio lights while starting the scene, but he had only gotten sweatier since then, especially now that he was nervous at being manhandled. His sweat tasted salty and musky, like an entire gym locker room distilled into one mind-blowing flavor.
“You promised you’d deep-throat it,” Bryan said. He snorted. He kept his head held high. It seemed that, since he wasn’t coming across as too tough right now, he was going to make up for that with dickishness. “So I’m gonna throat you down. If you want me to stop, you gotta tap my ass three times. Okay?”
“Wait-” Rob said. He patted Bryan’s ass more than three times, giggling at the sight of his meaty cheeks rippling. “I just wanted to practice-“
“That’s enough,” Bryan said. He didn’t wait any longer than that. He wrapped his hands around the back of Rob’s head and rammed his dick all the way in. He groaned animatedly — thought it seemed a little forced and practiced — and swayed his dick from side to side. He cackled as the movement caused Rob to gag. “See? No one can deep-throat my dick without gagging, on ‘ccount of it’s so big. You like it, huh?”
Rob nodded and said yes the best he could with Bryan’s cock jammed down his throat. He loved the flavor of it, the sweat-soaked musk of it, and the burst of salty precum on his tongue. He reached up to caress Bryan’s pecs with one hand, while his other roamed over Bryan’s asscheeks.
He let his hand slip between Bryan’s cheeks. He was perfectly smooth — he must have shaved his ass, Rob thought, no men were completely hairless in their asscrack. He was disappointed because he liked ass-hair.
He left his finger there at the entrance to Bryan’s hole, teasing the rim. “I ain’t let no queer in my ass, nigga, so you best get yo’ finger away. Don’t let my niggas confuse you. They was makin’ up stories ’bout that Greenburg shit. I don’t know no Greenburg, and I ain’t nevuh let ‘im in my ass, no way.” Bryan glared down at Rob, watching him swallow cock like it was a boring TV show.
The fat one snickered. “What about his tongue, nigga?”
Bryan shrugged. “Oh, that don’t count. Ain’t happen though, no. I let all kind of girls put they tongue in my asshole. You know I love that. But no men, never.” He paused and pulled his cock out. Gobs of spit dripped off it. Rob gasped for air. “You lick asshole? You wanna lick my asshole?” He smiled eagerly. “I ain’t nevuh done that, never let no sissy lick my ass.” He glared at his friends as though daring them to contradict him. “This’ll be my first time.”
“Yeah! I’ll do that! Hell yeah!” Rob said. He didn’t mean to sound so eager, and he winced as the men laughed at him.
Bryan laid on the ground on his back, then lifted his ass up, like a female porn star getting drilled. He supported himself on his shoulders and neck, his huge thighs trembling as he suspended them in the air and spread his asscheeks. His niggas even held onto his ankles to help him keep his legs aloft.
That was a perfect angle for Rob. He dove his face between those thick cheeks. It tasted perfectly clean, polished, like a life-like statue of a porn star. He even tasted lotion — did Bryan use lotion inside his ass?
But the funk of his ass shone through more and more the more Rob licked. He sucked down every drop of assjuice, and flickered his tongue deep into it. He made his rimjob loud and moist, suckling on Bryan’s asshole and generating so much spit that it spilled down his back and his crotch.
“Damn, nigga…” said the tall one. “That is one nasty sound.” They both laughed softly, a little nervously. They held Bryan’s legs up, facing away so they didn’t have to watch. The sound alone was enough to make them buckle like they had to suppress a gag.
“Goddamn, boy, fuck!” Bryan moaned. “You got a hell of a tongue. You should teach these white bitches how to lick ass. They don’t even get all up in there cuz the camera can’t really see it anyway, most of the time. They just lick the crack a bit.”
Rob’s fingers explored Bryan’s body. He stroked Bryan’s cock, but just once because that was enough to make it spasm, veins throbbing, Bryan gasping and biting his lip — he must really love rimjobs, he was on the verge of cumming, Rob thought.
He pulled his tongue out.
Bryan yelped, which he turned into a deep, more masculine-sounding bark partway through. His eyes were closed, ass still in the air, legs supported by his niggas. Rob licked both of those fleshy asscheeks, then blew on his asshole. He didn’t lick it, he just blew air over it.
“Aw, fuck, goddamn!” Bryan screamed like it hurt. His whole body rippled. He hyperventilated a little, until it made his niggas laugh at him, and Bryan stopped. Rob blew some more, and Bryan writhed. Finally Bryan pulled away and dropped his ass to the ground. He growled. “No blowin’ on my ass. I don’t like that.”
“Sure looked like you liked it.”
“You loved it, nigga. Don’t gimme that,” said the tall one with a suppressed chuckle.
“Shut the fuck up.” Bryan rolled his eyes. He lay on his back, limbs sprawled out. His dick stood straight up, begging for attention.
Without another word of warning, Rob mounted Bryan and lowered himself onto his cock. Bryan grunted and closed his eyes. Rob grunted too as a bolt of pain hit him. That didn’t last long, however, and the pain soon melted away into a deep, abiding pleasure.
It was uncomfortable though, until Rob’s ass loosened up enough to accept it. He moaned and bit his lip. He stroked his own cock.
“Oh wow, you ram me so good, daddy,” Rob said, again as feminine as possible. He sensed that Bryan was feeling down on himself, and he wanted to puff him up. “Can I kiss you?”
“Fuck no!” Bryan shouted, his voice suddenly full of so much confidence and bravado that his dick twitched in Rob’s ass. He screwed up his face, the serenity and bliss he displayed while getting a rimjob having vanished, replaced by tension and annoyance. “As a matter of fact, bitch, turn around and get off me. You don’t get to be on top. No way.”
Bryan stood up. He didn’t wait for Rob to agree or to do anything, he just used his powerful muscles to lift Rob up without taking him off his cock. A spasm of agony hit Rob’s ass, followed by a bolt of pleasure as his prostate came alive.
But it was awkward and painful, since Bryan pushed Rob into position. He forced Rob to rotate on Bryan’s dick — that was an extremely painful motion to do with a cock in his ass — until he was on all fours. Bryan was on top of him, and he leaned forward, resting both forearms on Rob’s back like it was a table.
“Alright, bitch, we doin’ this my way,” Bryan muttered. He slammed his hips all the way in like he was trying to make this difficult for Rob, who loved it as hard and rough as possible. Rob moaned. Bryan grunted and wrinkled his nose — he wanted to show off by cornholing Rob harder than he could handle. But Rob was determined to accept every ounce of pounding Bryan dished out.
He writhed on Bryan’s cock. Bryan used every muscle in his body to plow, slamming his barrel chest down on Rob’s back. Rob struggled to remain on all fours. He wanted to jack himself off, but he needed both hands to remain balanced on the ground.
“Take it, bitch,” Bryan muttered. “Beg me for it. You like big dick? Lemme hear it.”
“I want your big dick, Bryan-“
“Not so loud, ain’t nobody allowed to know,” Bryan said. “Say it, just say it quiet.” He wrapped one of his arms around Rob’s neck and pulled his head up. Rob was stretched, leaning forward so far that he would have fallen to the ground since his hands were not on the floor anymore, but Bryan held him up with one powerful arm. Since Rob was not supporting himself, he could do little more than focus on relaxing his ass so Bryan could pound away at it.
“I love your big cock, Bryan, it’s so huge. It’s the biggest I’ve ever taken, and you get so deep,” Rob said, trying to sound as feminine as he could muster.
“I know. Keep sayin’ it though,” Bryan said with a cocky laugh. When he laughed, his chest shifted against Rob’s back and his cock twitched in his ass.
The other two men stood in front of Rob, facing away with their arms across their chests. They whispered to each other, avoiding making eye contact with Rob the entire time.
Finally the tall one said, “Hey, uh, man… You gonna keep payin’ Mr. Plumper for’-?”
“Nope!” Bryan shouted. “This is a one-time thing.”
“A one-time thing like our paychecks, you mean? Or like a long-term thing, like the paychecks we gonna be gettin’ in the future?”
Bryan’s smile disappeared. “Nigga, you had better shut up ’bout that shit-“
“You had better pay up, Michael.”
“Quit callin’ me Michael. My name’s Bryan.”
They both sighed at each other. The tall one leaned down and lightly slapped Rob’s cheek to get his attention. He winced at the sight of Rob’s orgasm-addled eyes. “Ew, alright, nigga, I’s askin’ you a question. Mr. Plumper here would be glad to cornhole you e’ery week for two grand. You in?”
“I don’t know…” Rob said.
“I bet we can convince you,” said the fat one. He leaned into Bryan’s ear and whispered. Rob’s head was still pinned in front of Bryan’s neck and chest, gasping and heaving for air as he sucked on Bryan’s corded forearm. In that position, he could hear the tenor and tone of the fat one’s words, but he couldn’t make out the exact verbiage. It sounded like a firm suggestion.
Bryan blanched and pushed him away. “Man, fuck you, nigga. Get yo’ tongue outta my ear. Or pay two grand like this sissy.” He sighed. Despite Bryan’s words, it sounded like was going to do whatever the fat one had said. Bryan sighed again, sounding angry this time. He kept his one arm holding Rob against his chest.
Then his other hand stretched to Rob’s chest. “If any of you evuh tell anyone ’bout this, I swear to Christ I’ll slit yo’ goddamn throats.” Bryan’s deep voice rumbled, his chest muscles flexing against Rob’s back. His free hand roamed all the way down to Rob’s cock.
“Relax, Bryan. We won’t tell no one, you can trust us.”
“You told this bitch ’bout Mr. Greenburg.” Bryan paused and shuddered when his hand wrapped around Rob’s dick. “Which you made up, course. Ain’t no Mr. Greenburg.”
“Right.”
“Yeah, we shouldn’t’ve made that up, Bryan. Sorry.” The fat one looked Rob in the eye. “We was just teasin’ him. He ain’t nevuh do that. He never been no rentboy. He got lots of offers, but he always say no. He shoot e’ry white man who ask. He real gangsta like that.”
Rob didn’t believe it, but he didn’t say that. He just submitted as all of his muscles went limp — his orgasm began from the moment Bryan touched his dick. Bryan stroked his cock with one hand, slowly at first, then speeding up as both men reached orgasm at once.
Cum sprayed over Rob’s belly and onto the floor, coating Bryan’s hand with goblets of milky white. Bryan groaned in disgust, but he didn’t stop, he just kept on stroking as he finished his nut off in Rob’s ass.
The power of his own orgasm was heightened by the feel of jets of hot cum coating his prostate. Rob moaned so loud it was nearly a scream, and Bryan’s two niggas checked the door to make sure no one was outside. Bryan groaned right into Rob’s ear, which he even licked a little — seemingly out of habit — as he writhed and filled Rob up with his cum.
When they were both done, Bryan dropped Rob unceremoniously to the ground. His cock plopped right out of Rob’s ass. Bryan growled. He wiped his cum-dripping hand off on Rob’s face. “Get yo’ nut off my hand, bitch.” He muttered and shook his head. “I nevuh do reacharounds, just so you know. Don’t evuh ask me fo’ that.”
“Okay.” Rob was too breathless and overwhelmed to point out that that wasn’t true. He sighed and stretched his legs.
“You best wipe my dick off. That’s yo’ ass all over it.” Bryan stood. His muscles were flexed, like he was showing off or trying to intimidate Rob. He cackled arrogantly. “Prison rules, bitch. You got yo’ ass all over my dick, so you best get it nice and clean, I don’t care how much yo’ ass is bleeding.”
Rob got some tissues and wiped Bryan’s dick off. Bryan put his hands on his hips. His buddies exchanged knowing glances like they thought Bryan had no idea what prison rules were. He’d never been to prison.
“His ass ain’t bleedin’, nigga,” the fat one said with a laugh. “He ain’t intact-“
“Shut up.” Bryan took a deep breath. “His ass is bleedin’. You seen it. I seen it. He was beggin’ me to stop. I made him finish me off. Not that we evuh gonna tell no one ’bout this.” He snorted and sniffled. “Stupid weakling couldn’t handle it.”
Rob had all his clothes on. He handed over the wad of cash.
“That money best be in there, nigga. Don’t think I won’t track you down if it ain’t,” Bryan said. He straightened the pants he had just pulled back on. “I ain’t some kinda prettyboy. I am a straight-up thug, nigga. I got connections, ya dig? I will find you, and I will fuck you up.” His friends had to suppress a smile, but Rob saw it. Bryan faced away from them, so he didn’t see it. “You best believe me.”
Rob grinned. He opened his mouth as though he was going to respond, but instead he just let his fist fly. He punched Bryan right in the jaw. Though Rob was perhaps a third of Bryan’s size, he threw a mighty punch, which collided with Bryan’s dimpled chin.
Bryan groaned and collapsed to the ground. He just crumpled up like he was a toy person, landing in a heap on the ground. His two niggas burst into laughter. They clapped. Bryan wiggled, and his toes twitched.
Then Rob turned around and flounced away, leaving Bryan to stagger back to his feet while his two friends laughed. “See you next week, Bryan!”

Humiliated by a Scammer

Zion has no idea his family was targeted by a scammer who took everything they owned, and now it’s Zion’s turn to experience the ultimate in alpha male dominance! Can he submit to the superior man?

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Read the whole thing here!

“Look here, Zion, boy, I’m gonna be real upfront wit’cha,” said Uncle Nelson. Zion had trouble concentrating on his words because Uncle Nelson was so intimidating. He was tall, broad shouldered and thick-bodied. He had a dense bristly mustache. He had come over without Zion’s grandmother — who had married Uncle Nelson just a few months ago. He had never come to Zion’s apartment above the family restaurant without her. “I came into ya grandmama’s life wit’ an ulterior motive.”
“Where is she-?”
Nelson slapped him. “Don’t you interrupt me. I put her in a home.”
“What?” Zion’s heart sank. “Where? What?”
He slapped Zion hard. “Make me say it again, nigga! Make me say it again! Shut yo’ mouth!”
Despite his huge size, Uncle Nelson had always been incredibly kind until today. Zion was much smaller and weaker, so he had been scared from the moment his grandmom brought Nelson home from church one day. He was new to the area then, and he had fallen in love with her right away. Nelson was broad and muscular, so strong it looked painful, like he must struggle to carry around all those muscles.
“Now yo’ grandmama signed this whole building over to me,” Nelson said. He paused to see if Zion would interrupt him again, but he didn’t. Zion trembled in front of him. Nelson lightly slapped his cheek again. “Listen Zion boy, you know what liquidate means? Course you don’t, you a dummy. It means when you take somethin’ that ain’t worth much and you take it apart and you use all the parts some other way. Like when a store goin’ outta business, they liquidate it. You feel me, Zion boy?”
“Yeah, man, but where’s my dad-?”
“Yo’ daddy’s in jail, but I’m comin’ to that.” He smiled. “I ain’t a nice nigga, Zion boy. I know I been actin’ nice, but I ain’t nice at all. Yo’ family was not wise to trust me.” He undid his belt and let his pants plop heavily to the floor, then he took his dick out. Zion yelped in surprise — and fear, because it was more than a foot long, veiny and dark, and it smelled vaguely of sweat and pussyjuice — and he tried to stand up, but Nelson pushed him back down. “Lemme just be real frank wit’cha. Yo grandmama married me and signed e’rything over to me. So I own yo’ family’s house and yo’ family’s store and I even own yo’ car, nigga, which by the way, you may not use.”
“You can’t do that-!”
“Already done, nigga. Yo’ daddy’s in jail cuz I tol’ him I put yo’ sister out on the street as a ho if he ain’t sign this murder confession — there was a killin’ I had weighin’ me down, nigga. Not no more,” he said. He carefully folded his pants and put them on the table next to him. Then he picked up his dick as though to display it for Zion’s benefit. He held it in one hand, and Zion was unable to look away from it. It jiggled when Nelson spoke. “Now yo’ sister was a little old to start hoin’, but I’m gonna make it work. She can make me a pretty penny.”
“Wait, what?!”
“I am liquidatin’ yo’ family, nigga. Y’all is a bunch of rank-ass pussies, and I am takin’ ya out,” he said. He thwacked his limp dick over Zion’s face. “You might wanna start lickin”, befo’ I get real mad, Zion boy.”
“My dad is in jail? He-“
But Nelson’s cock pushed into Zion’s mouth, and Nelson chuckled as Zion gagged. His dick was limp and rubbery at first, tasting of salty sweat. Tears welled up in Zion’s eyes. That fat cock rested on his tongue, and when he tried to push it off, Nelson slapped his hands away. He didn’t do anything with his dick, it just rested there, like Zion’s mouth was its new natural home.
Then Nelson swayed, making his limp dick jiggle and jump around, roping over Zion’s face. It was so thick, much thicker than Zion’s, and it smelled like a locker room in a low-cost gym. Zion’s stomach churned.
His mind kept replaying the things Nelson had said. None of that made sense, what did he mean? Zion’s sister was not a prostitute. His father was not a murderer, none of this made sense. Why was Nelson acting like this? But Zion couldn’t formulate any words because he was entranced by the rod of throbbing hot dickfat smearing Nelson’s body odor over every inch of Zion’s face.
“Ah, yeah, this is the part I love,” Nelson said. “No teeth. No hands. No regrets.” He moaned without breaking eye contact with Zion, who felt a flush of embarrassment and looked away. Nelson dug his nails into Zion’s cheeks and forced his eyes back to Nelson’s. “Lookit me when I’s plowin’ you, boy. You mine now, nigga. You should thinka yo’self as a slave, even if the law ain’t allow slaves no more.”
“But, Uncle Nelson, I-“
He laughed, forcing his cock back into Zion’s throat. It was so huge that it didn’t feel real to Zion, who had never seen a cock so big. A few drops of precum hit his tongue, and the electrifyingly salty flavor made Zion gag.
“You still callin’ me uncle, boy? I ain’t yo’ family.” He wrapped his hands around the back of Zion’s head, and began to slowly grind his dick lower and lower in Zion’s throat. “I let you be a busboy in the restaurant. I ain’t gonna pay you a damn dime, but I let ya eat scraps and shit. You may not find any of the waitresses sexy.”
Having been in shock since this began, Zion hadn’t really fought back. But as his throat heaved and his lungs cried out for oxygen, he realized he could fight. He clawed at Nelson’s muscle-bound body and squirmed. His whole body tensed up, but Zion was skinny and lanky, not solid like Nelson.
“Ah, there it is, there you go,” Nelson said. He held tightly onto Zion’s head. “You fightin’ now, huh? That’s normal, that’ll pass. I’m gonna break you, boy. See it used to be that the rule of law weren’t so strong, and weak-kneed motherfuckers like you and yo’ whole family just get took up by some strong motherfucker like me, someone who can make sure you reach yo’ maximum potential. For you…” Nelson laughed, smearing tendrils of spit over Zion’s face as he watched him choke on his massive cock. “Yo’ maximum potential is a busboy who occasionally gets to eat my asshole. Yo’ whole family was garbage, Zion boy. Yo’ granddaddy was worth a damn, but he dead now. You’d have just run this company into the ground. I’m takin’ it.”
Zion squealed and tried to crawl away, but Nelson = punched him again. Pain erupted in Zion’s side, and he collapsed onto the floor. Zion rolled onto his back. Nelson slowly lowered his hefty, broad ass right on Zion’s face. His crack was choked with dark kinky black hairs, which scratched Zion’s skin.
“Lick it up, Zion boy, get ya tongue in there.” When Zion didn’t comply right away, Nelson punched him in the belly. Zion groaned. “Get yo’ tongue inside my asshole now, bitch.”
Zion still wanted to fight, but he was so weak and skinny. His body submitted even as his mind wanted to fight back. His tongue slipped into Nelson’s asshole. The taste of man-funk flooded his senses.
It was so rank, so foul, the flavor overwhelming all of Zion’s other senses. Utter humiliation wracked his body. Only an absolute fool would let another man do this, he thought.
Nelson loudly moaned. His ass-sweat trickled into Zion’s mouth, and Zion gagged so violently his stomach hurt. Nelson sat on his face, all of his weight pressing down on Zion’s head. He was big man, and it felt like Zion’s head was going to cave in. He couldn’t focus on anything but squirming beneath Nelson’s giant body.
“Move ya tongue around some more. How’s my ass taste, boy?”
“Please… stop-” Zion had to shout to be heard through the meat of Nelson’s ass. That made Nelson laugh and pound on Zion’s belly some more.
“Nah, this is yo’ life now, Zion boy, it’s already done. Get used to it.” Nelson rubbed his asshole over Zion’s face, leaving a layer of funk. Zion’s nose dug into his asscrack from top to bottom. “From now on, e’ry time I come into my restaurant, or up here — anytime you see me, basically — I want you to lick my asshole, okay?”
“No!”
Nelson stood up and punched Zion in the belly. Zion screamed and gagged as the rush of fresh air made the assy taste on his tongue even more rancid. He writhed, but Nelson made him stay on his back. “What’d I say? You my slave, bitch. You can leave any time, but I own ya ass. I own this building and I own ya car and I own ya job and I own e’rything here in this apartment. I got ya daddy in jail and ya grandmom in care and ya sister out hoin’. I can decide to drop any one of ’em loose anytime,” he said.
Through his tears, Zion grunted. “I can… do…-“
“You can leave, wit’ nothin’. I will take the shoes off ya feet. I just might break all the bones in yo’ feet too, just to make sure you nevuh work again. You will work for me, Zion, for the rest of your life. Or I will make your whole family’s life hell. Ya feel me?”
“Y…. Yes.”
“Good. Now say ‘I will lick yo’ asshole, Nelson’.”
A sob escaped from Zion’s lips. “I… I will lick ya asshole, Nelson.” Zion’s tears were squashed by Nelson plopping down on his face again.
This time, Zion had no choice but to lap at that funky hole as tears streamed down his cheeks. The filthy, gritty feeling was almost, but not quite, enough to make him forget his sobbing. Nelson guided Zion’s hands around his body to his cock. Zion’s tongue ran up his guys and tasted his sweat, while his hands stroked from the root to the tip of Nelson’s fat throbbing dick.
“Stroke me off, boy. That’s how you do a rimjob. Tongue in deeper. Tongue deeper, boy!” He punched Zion in the belly again, and when Zion cried out, he grabbed his tongue. He pulled it out until Zion squealed. “See this? You got a good five inches of tongue here, boy. I wanna feel all five inches in my ass, or I swear to Christ I will shove my foot up your ass, and I am not playin’, I can show you the evidence I did it before.”
He nearly lifted Zion from his knees by his tongue but instead lowered his ass to meet his face, so he reached underneath himself to shove Zion’s tongue into his asshole. He did it so forcefully his own finger penetrated his own ass at the same time, while Zion sobbed into the filthy asscrack of the superior man above him.
Zion tried to look away, but each time Nelson slapped him and forced him to look him in the eye. He was so intimidating that Zion couldn’t think of any plan besides squirming and begging whenever he could catch a breath. Nelson’s burly mustache shook as he sneered.
“You are one pitiful li’l bitch. You a sissy?” He raised his eyebrows and looked down at them.
“No! No, come on!”
“You should be
The fact that Nelson was not a thug made him scarier to Zion. He looked like a church deacon — he was, in fact, a church deacon — and he spoke like a Hollywood hero (or villain). He had a slightly stawk-heavy East Coast accent, sounding like he was from maybe Philadelphia or someplace like that. New Jersey, maybe. His words rang out like a prophecy in Zion’s ears.
Zion felt filthy and worthless. Zion sobbed in Nelson’s plump ass, while Nelson rubbed his hole over Zion’s tongue like a dog with infected anal glands. Every time Zion’s tongue stopped moving for even a second, Nelson hit him or pinched him hard until Zion resumed lapping at his grimy prostate.
Nelson let out a long, low whistle. His cock throbbed in Zion’s hands. “Hell yeah, there ya go. Fuck yeah. You got it. This is how you do a rimjob, Zion. All of ya tongue in there, hands on my dick… You gonna make me nut, boy, I swear… I was gonna wreck ya asshole today, but maybe I wait.”
A fluid hit Zion’s tongue. It was rancid and sour, and it tasted like farts, but Zion was pretty sure it was spit, cuz Nelson was spitting on his face, it seemed. Through his sobs and retches, Zion heard him calmly hocking up loogey after loogey. Zion squirmed, sobbing in pain and disgust. Nelson punched him in the belly over and over again.
“Keep ya tongue up in there, boy, and move it around some,” Nelson said. He groaned. “Yeah, nigga… Hell yeah…” His muscles all flexed at once, and a hot spray of cum shot over his flat belly. He shot a huge flow that seemed to go on for minutes, real honest-to-god minutes of continuous flow, coating his muscular chest in a sheen of jizz, which immediately ran down to his balls and his taint and then at last onto Zion’s tongue in his ass.
Zion was only barely aware of his own hands on Nelson’s dick. He didn’t really move them, he just held on, while Nelson ground his ass over Zion’s face, the movement making Zion give him a handjob as he licked his asshole. It must have felt good, the handjob or maybe the tongue, because Nelson let out a long simmering murmur that rattled the walls of Zion’s apartment.
A loud gag escaped from Zion’s throat, the sound swallowed by Nelson’s hefty body. Zion cringed as sticky fluids ran down his throat, coating his tongue. He thought for sure he’d never make that taste go away.
“Yeah, nigga… Ah shit, I am gonna like keepin’ you ’round as a rimjob-bitch. Get used to this,” he said with another whistle. He rubbed his butt over Zion’s face, sending fresh new waves of disgusting flavor onto Zion’s tongue. “Keep ya tongue out, boy.”
He grabbed Zion’s tongue as he lifted himself up. Zion yelped because Nelson really squeezed on his tongue with his fingers. Then Nelson kneeled next to Zion, put his nose right in front of Zion’s tongue and inhaled deeply.
“You smell like pure submission, bitch.” He hocked up another big loogie and spat it onto Zion’s tongue. It was grimy and sour, and Zion squirmed all over again. Drool spilled out of his mouth as he gagged over and over. Nelson had a disgusted sneer on his face, holding Zion by the tongue. He spat again and again.
Then he pointed to the cum he had sprayed over his own chest and flat stomach. It looked like a huge load, great puddles of it that ran in rivulets down his chest. It was so thick, like sour cream, it made Zion’s own jizz seem watery and pitiful. He had spurted a huge load, and a few drops continued plopping out one by one into Nelson’s crotch hair. “Lick my cum off me. I’m gonna make ya tongue so nasty you wanna cut it off.” He licked his lips, as he pulled Zion’s face over the puddles of jizz that coated his pectoral muscles.
Keeping a grip on Zion’s tongue while he rubbed it over his chest was difficult and awkward for Nelson because he was so much bigger than Zion. He had to scrunch in to make it work. But he didn’t let Zion control his own tongue — despite telling him to lick, Nelson didn’t allow it, he instead used Zion’s tongue like a rag to clean the cum off his chest.
The salty bitterness of cum cut through Zion’s pain and humiliation, making him sob all over again. Licking his chest reminded Zion how much stronger Nelson was than him. He felt like a warm marble statue. Zion didn’t want to caress his shoulder muscles like a girl being seduced, but his hands flailed and that’s what they did, embarrassing him even further.
“Now sit there. Look me in the eye.” Nelson pointed to a spot on the floor. “Don’t get up, don’t wipe your face off. You may swallow the nastiness on your tongue. If you spit, I will beat you. I wanna watch you swallow that. I wanna see it go down yo’ throat, cuz that’ll be you agreein’ to be my rimjob-bitch-slave. That’s yo’ willing agreement.” He held onto Zion’s throat with one of his massive hands.
Zion didn’t want to swallow. Every part of him rebelled against the concept.
But he knew Nelson wasn’t kidding about beating him if he spit, so he tried to hold the soup of filth in his mouth. Its creamy thickness sloshed around, viscous, and he imagined he could feel Nelson’s sperms swimming around on his gums and his tongue. That was ridiculous, right? You can’t feel sperm.
But it sure seemed like he could. He sobbed, and he felt the tears running down his cheeks. He felt that for sure. Just like he felt the sperm swimming, looking for something to impregnate on his tongue.
A moist sniffle came outta his nose, and Nelson looked down him like a pititful pile of dogshit. Zion wanted to come up with a plan, to gin up the courage to attack Nelson, or at least to call the police when he left. None of those options sounded optionable though. Nelson was a gangster, that was clear now, and looking back on it, maybe Zion should have always known that was true. It did seem weird that a man like that would marry his grandmother.
But old people were weird, Zion couldn’t understand why they did what they did.
And now it was too late anyway. He couldn’t go to the police, Nelson would punish him. All he could do was submit. He couldn’t avoid his instinct to swallow though, and he gagged violently as it went down his throat. He imagined he could feel Nelson’s sperm swimming in his belly.
Nelson spat on him again. “Don’t move from that spot. Don’t wipe ya face off, not until I walk out the door.”
He began to very slowly get dressed. His slacks were wrinkleless, perfectly flat — ironed, obviously — because he had folded them when he took them off. His shoes were fine leather too. Halfway through, as he pulled up his pants, he stopped, turned around and farted right in front of Zion’s face. The stench of spit-flavored fart hit Zion’s nostrils and he gagged. He wept continuously.
“If you do what I say, Zion boy, everything’ll be fine.” He went into Zion’s kitchen. “You got enough food in here to last a couple weeks. You tell me when you run out, I’ll give you more.”
Zion cried, sitting there. Nelson didn’t let him move yet, so he had to sit there with a mask of cum, spit and assjuice on his face. Nelson took some stuff out of his kitchen and placed it by the door. It was all the nice things, the meat from the freezer, a fancy bottle of olive oil, that kind of thing, plus a stack of fine china. He carefully arranged it all in a pile he could carry in one hand.
“I’m takin’ some of ya shit. You ain’t worth none of this, boy. Don’t worry, I ain’t gonna let ya starve to death. You know how to cook beans, right?”
“Yeah.” Zion croaked. He gurgled and gagged all over again. Nelson chuckled.
“Good. Beans is cheap, I gonna give you mostly beans and rice.” Nelson walked past where Zion sat. He undid his belt, plopped his plump asscheeks in front of Zion again and farted on his face. He wrinkled his nose. “You is one worthless piece of shit, man, you know that?”
“Yes.” Zion’s voice had never felt so weak and wavery. He felt nothing but submission towards this man, who’d ruined his life and even despite that, Zion was going to do everything he said. He was like a God to Zion.
“Did you like eatin’ my ass?” He paused, then, just as Zion was about to answer, he snapped, “Say yes, bitch, or I’ll throw you out the window.”
Zion hesitated. “Yes.” When Nelson motioned for him to stretch that out, he winced and moaned. Nelson slapped him. Zion cringed. “I… I enjoyed eating your ass.”
Nelson’s phone rang. He looked at it, and his mustache wriggled. “It’s one of my bitches.” He answered it. “Hey, baby. Yeah. I be ovuh later. Uh-huh. Yeah cook me up somethin’. That sounds good. I’s just doin’ a little work.” He chuckled. He glanced at Zion. “Ain’t that kinda work. You ain’t gotta lick my doodoo-hole tonight though, baby, on ‘ccount of what I’s doin’ at work.” He laughed. “Nah, it ain’t a girl. This nigga displeased me. Nah, don’t worry, my princess, you ain’t gotta be jealous. Oh yeah? Oh shit… Alright, alright.” He looked at Zion. “Go sit in the bathtub, nigga.”
Zion retched as he got up, but Nelson kicked him in the belly.
“Crawl! When you in fronta me, bitch, you crawl!” Nelson chuckled into the phone. “Yeah, he my slave. Yeah, sure. He come clean ya house e’ry weekend.” He licked his lips. “Damn, baby, you got a evil side. I like that.” He knocked Zion over with his foot, then kicked him in the belly until Zion gasped and cried out. He heard a cruel female voice laughing through the phone. “Get in there, bitch!”
Nelson allowed him to crawl on his hands and knees into the bathroom. Zion was too exhausted and scared to fight back, or even to think about what was going on.
“Yeah, baby. You can do whatever you want to him. I’m-a do it now, I gotta put the video on.” He started recording. He took his dick out through the fly of his pants. “Open up ya mouth, boy, and start singing ‘I’m a Little Teapot’.”
The girl laughed hysterically as Zion tried to sing through his tears, and the sound of her guffaws carried tinnily from the phone in Nelson’s hand. The melody of the song was interrupted by hot, bitter piss flowing over his face, so it ended up just being the sound of him choking to the tune of the woman’s laughter. Zion sobbed and gagged, his stomach twisting in knots when urine streamed down his throat.
He pissed so much there was a little puddle around Zion’s bare ass on the floor of the bathtub. He cried and cried as Nelson put his dick away.
“Uncle Nelson… Please-“
“You still callin’ me uncle?” Nelson gathered up everything else in the apartment that he wanted — or that he judged to be too nice for a slave to have. He got it all up in a couple boxes, which he carted out to his Mercedes one by one. Before he left, Nelson stood over Zion and glared down at him. That mask of filth was still on his face, and Zion trembled, unable to think about anything but his desperate desire to be free of it.
Without another word, Nelson pursed his lips, hocked up a massive loogey and spat it out onto Zion’s face. It splatted and covered him in stinking saliva from his forehead to his nose, and it coated his eyes too, so it was in everything he saw.
Then, at last, Nelson turned around and walked out the door. Zion was relieved to be able to clean his face off and cry, alone.

The Boss

Lamar is glad to have work, even if it’s difficult, dirty and remote. He’s gotta shower with other men, including his boss Nelson. When it turns out Nelson has some ideas on how two men can meet their needs far from women, Lamar just might have to swing on the downlow whether he wants to or not!

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Lamar stumbled through the worksite towards the temporary showers. Moonlight shone upon the upturned dirt and scattered heavy equipment. Lamar’s hardhat almost fell off, but he righted it. He wasn’t drunk, but in the dark and on the uneven surface of the construction site, it looked like he was. He nearly fell several times.
Behind him, the rest of the work crew hooted and clapped. They were drunk. The crickets were impossibly loud here too — Lamar had thought coming here to the middle of nowhere would be a nice, quiet place to relax, but during the day his fellow workers catcalled each other (since there were no women here) amid the rumbling of heavy machinery, and at night, the crickets crippeted, the sound joining with the men to create a lively chorus louder than any city street Lamar had lived on.
He couldn’t complain. He hadn’t come here for peace and quiet, that was just something he had hoped to find anyway. He had come here to escape a debt.
A lot of what he had expected turned out not to be true. Lamar was a strong young man, a high school basketball star and all-around ladysman. His life was made — he was a good student, a good player, a law-abiding kid who wanted to go to college and was good enough to get a scholarship.
Only he wasn’t quite that good. His senior year had been a disaster. It wasn’t really his fault, the team just fell apart. His grades were awful. In the end, he had been offered a five hundred dollar scholarship to a podunk school that cost thirty-eight times that amount per semester. It was a joke.
And so that had been the end of all his dreams. There was no other way to do it, and he had fucked up.
Now here he was, working for his uncle’s friend, Nelson, who helped Lamar pay off his debt and gave him this job out in the middle of nowhere.
The rural construction site was in south Louisiana, near but not quite on the Gulf Coast. Nelson’s crew was building worker housing for an oil rig that would be built nearby afterwards. They were some thirty miles from the nearest road, living in tents, using endless generators to power makeshift equipment with limited supplies. The pay was not bad, especially since it was impossible to spend any of it most of the time.
But conditions were tough. Nature was loud, the work was long, the heat was stultifying, and the lack of electricity made everything boring.
At least the shower — which was just a tent with a hose contraption attached — seemed likely to feel good. It had its own generator to make its own hot water. That had seemed useless when he started and the day’s heat was like a woolen blanket he couldn’t throw off. But he was getting used to it, and it was chilly at night. A warm shower was going to feel good.
It was funny how something you took for granted could become a luxury in a matter of hours. Hot running water is too basic to be thankful for until the moment you don’t have it anymore, and then it’s the only thing that matters.
He stepped into the shower tent and sighed. He was glad to get away from the other workers. Nelson was the only black man on the crew, and he was the crew leader. That meant Lamar was the only black man among the rank and file. Lamar’s arrival had doubled the black population here, and he wasn’t sure that wase a good thing. The others seemed to see him as an extension of Nelson.
The rest were rednecks and roughnecks and other kinds of necks, Lamar didn’t know. He didn’t understand most of what they said, the drawl, holler and stawk in their voices mixing like currents in an eddy, and what came out was an incomprehensible wash of syllables. Nelson was in charge, and it was plainly obvious that none of them liked taking orders from a black man.
Nelson didn’t take any shit from them, but Lamar commanded no such respect. He was a rookie. He tried to let their words roll off him, but it was tough — if they had been outright racist, that would have been easier, he thought. He could fight them or at least dismiss them as ignorant hillbillies in his mind.
But they weren’t racist, at least not openly, not in a way Lamar could be sure he wasn’t imagining. They just gave Lamar all the worst tasks to do. They delighted in making fun of his skinny arms and relative lack of experience. In the showers, they had taken to pretending his dick was small even though it wasn’t.
That was the other reason he was glad to shower by himself at night. He hadn’t realized the only light in the shower tent came from the sun. It seemed obvious now, but he hadn’t even thought about it before stepping into the tent and realizing he was going to be showering in the dark. That must be why they all showered as soon as work stopped, when the sun was just setting.
Still, the shower tent was just a big wide open area, so there was nothing to bump into, and there was enough moonlight that it wasn’t pitch-black. He sighed when he got in, glad to be able to shower without a bunch of white rednecks crowding in around him.
They were entirely too comfortable with man-on-man contact for Lamar’s taste. They had a game they called the Crack Game, which basically meant they tried to thwack each other with their dicks in the asscrack. It wasn’t even a real game, there was no way to win or lose, no points, no beginning, no end. Lamar panicked the first time one of those hairy hillbillies attempted at Lamar, ramming his cock between Lamar’s plump brown cheeks — half the reason he had never joined a gang was that people had been telling him since he was a boy that his ass was too perfect for prison.
These workers were not too perfect for prison. Most of them had records, and a handful were open about being booty bandits. Lamar tried to stay away from them.
He turned the water on, and let it warm up before stepping under the stream. He sighed. He felt the day’s sweat wash over him, and the pounding stream of water pushed anxiety and aches from his labored muscles. He really liked being in here alone in the dark, he thought, deciding right then and there that he was going to continue showering at night as long as he worked here.
“Who dat?” came Nelson’s deeply accented rural voice.
“Lamar, man. I’m just showerin’-“
“I see that. What’d I tell you ’bout callin’ me man, nigga?”
Lamar rolled his eyes. Luckily Nelson couldn’t see that. Lamar said, “Sorry, sir.” Nelson had told him to call him sir so it didn’t look like he was showing favoritism to his friend’s nephew. Lamar had never called anyone ‘sir’ consistently like that.
He took off his hardhat and placed it next to Lamar’s. Since this entire area was technically a worksite, the hardhat was legally required everywhere except the sleeping quarters and the showers. He’d had it on so long Lamar’s scalp was super-sensitive when he first took it off tonight.
Lamar sighed, annoyed that he wasn’t getting his shower alone. That was another luxury that seemed basic until he didn’t have it anymore.
Even though he couldn’t see the man’s crotch, Lamar kept his eyes scrupulously above Nelson’s waist. That was just polite, that was how he and his fellow teammates had done it in the showers in the projects he grew up in — the juvenile shower had individual stalls, but when they moved up to the adult showering area, they did it in small groups of awkward, gaze-avoiding young men. They pretended not to have ever seen each other’s cocks no matter how often they showered together.
But the rednecks here didn’t do that at all. They compared sizes and pretended to masturbate on each other. They grabbed each other’s nuts and held on just to get the other person’s attention.
A part of Lamar wondered if he would feel better if he could be that relaxed and uninhibited. It wasn’t good to be uptight. They were right, it was just nudity. It was just a dick. We all have them, why not let them out? None of the men here had anything to hide. They all had imperfect bodies, with bellies and hairy backs and some of them have little dinky dicks that they weren’t even ashamed of it.
“Woo-hoo! I’m the undisputed champion of the Crack Game! Ain’t nobody can compete with me!” A hillbilly drawl echoed from the campsite. Sound traveled so clearly at night that Lamar could hear it easily even here in the shower. “Got a cock like a baseball bat!”
Lamar shuddered. That was a hillbilly named Cooter, who had a Confederate flag on his belly and a hoggish cock, ugly as a dead baby in a puddle, shit! He had hair on his back, he was one of those kinds of white men. Lamar did not like that kind of white man. Not in a racist way, he felt the same way about an Arab or a Jew or a Mexican whose chest hair had grown up over his shoulders and onto his back. Nah. Lamar don’t play that way. Cooter loved the Crack Game, the other workers must have been playing it outside.
“Cooter is shameful white trash,” Nelson said. He shook his head, wrinkling his nose as he got in the shower next to Lamar. “He dirty.”
Lamar wanted to complain and ask him to use a different shower, further away, but he didn’t dare. He just nodded and trembled.
“You seen that Confederate flag tattoo, right?” he asked and Lamar nodded. Nelson spat on the wooden floor of the shower tent. “He racist as shit.”
“He told me he wasn’t, he said he lost his virginity to a black girl,” Lamar said.
“Yeah, that’s just what he say. It’s true — I think — but he ain’t tellin’ the whole story cuz he don’t know you yet. That black girl was a prostitute his papa bought him. He told me that last year,” Nelson said.
“Oh. Okay.”
“They’s all racist. They don’t like me givin’ ’em orders,” Nelson said.
“They seem to respect you.”
“They do, but they don’t like it,” Nelson said. He cleared his throat and leaned back so the water ran over his powerful chest and big cock — Lamar couldn’t tell how big it really was because he refused to look directly at it, but even out the corner of his eye, he could tell it was big. “You like it here?”
Lamar shrugged. “The pay’s good.”
“That ain’t what I asked, boy. I’m gonna talk to yo’ uncle when I go back to the office tomorrow,” he said. “What should I tell him?”
“Tell him it’s fine, tell him I’m doin’ good,” Lamar said.
Nelson nodded. “Okay.” He paused, then whistled and placed one hand on Lamar’s flat belly. “You got a nice six-pack, boy. You probably get all kinds of girls with that, huh?”
Lamar burned with embarrassment as he mumbled his agreement. The other workers had been making fun of his ladysman smile and taut belly as well. Really Nelson had pretty close to a six-pack too — not quite, there was a hint of pudge there, but it was close enough that Lamar didn’t see much of a difference between their bellies.
His entire body tensed at the touch of Nelson’s hand. Lamar was a star basketball player, so he was used to his coach slapping his ass and rubbing his back. But something about the darkened, humid environment made this more nerve-wracking.
“You doin’ okay wit’out a girl here?”
Lamar nodded, then realized Nelson couldn’t see that. “Yeah,” he said, as casually as he could muster. Nelson’s hand slipped around his belly and clutched the small of his back. It rested there, gripping him loosely. Nelson’s hand was callused and firm, his fingers thick.
“You ever mess around on the downlow?”
His words hung there in the humid shower air. Lamar gulped. “No,” he said. He trembled, cursing himself for looking weak in front of Nelson.
Nelson chuckled dryly. “Really? That don’t sound like the truth, nigga.”
“Well… I mean…”
“You ain’t gotta go on,” he said. “I know what that means, you don’t wanna mess wit’ those rednecks. I don’t mess around with white men neither. Reminds me too much of prison life.”
“Okay.”
“You ain’t no kinda white man,” he said.
“Yeah…”
“You wanna jack me off?”
“No…”
“You wanna take it in the ass?”
“No way!” Lamar yelped and bit his lip as Nelson took his hand and placed it on Nelson’s thick rod. It spasmed as soon as Lamar touched it. Lamar felt a shudder of disgust, as well as horniness, run up his body. He’d been on the DL with some buddies in the past but never an older man like Nelson. Nelson sighed loudly, right in Lamar’s ear. Lamar’s heart raced and he shuddered. He tried to take his hand away, but Nelson held it in place, and Lamar had no choice but to hold onto its hot, throbbing thickness. Lamar gulped. “I, uh… If we on the downlow, that means I get to stick you too, right, nigga?”
“What was that?”
“I mean… sir.”
“Thank you. No, that ain’t right, Lamar. I’m yo’ boss. How would it look if I let you put it in me?” He said, softly, moving his mouth right next to Lamar’s ear.
“Nobody is here-“
“They could walk in,” he said. He kissed Lamar on the ear. “How about this, nigga? I’ll give you a reacharound.”
“What’s that?” Lamar asked before he had even given it any thought — of course it was obvious if you paused to consider it. He blushed, thinking he probably sounded naive. He knew what a reacharound was. His mind simply wasn’t working fast enough to keep up with the reality unfolding around him.
Nelson laughed. “Your uncle ain’t nevuh tell you what a reacharound is? He ain’t tell you ’bout prison?”
“Uh… My mom won’t let him tell me that stuff. She says it’s impolite to talk about prison.”
“Oh, you one of dem sheltered chilluns, huh?”
“No!”
In one smooth motion, Nelson slid behind Lamar. He wedged his dick between Lamar’s cheeks. Nelson was rock-hard, already leaking precum into Lamar’s ass.
“Well, when yo’ uncle and me was in prison together, we had sum rules. The guards took it serious, nigga,” Nelson said. He leaned in close so he could whisper in Lamar’s ear. “They ain’t wanna get involved when inmates get in fights with stiffies. So they make up a rule. You can do whatevuh it takes to blow a nut if the nigga on top give a reacharound. Then you ain’t a bitch, not a punk, you just lettin’ another man use yo’ butthole for awhile.”
Lamar shuddered. He bit his lip and looked down.
“Don’t be like that, nigga. We messin’ around on the downlow,” Nelson said. “Don’t go telling yo’ uncle I hurt you. I ain’t. You can tell me to fuck off if you want.”
A part of Lamar did want to tell him that, but a bigger part of him didn’t want to. Not only would it be easier to just go along with it, Lamar was very horny. He hadn’t realized how much he was going to miss girls. Back when he messed around on the DL in his old neighborhood, Lamar had always sworn he wouldn’t do it again, but when the opportunity presented itself and he was horny… the prospect of getting it in the butt seemed like a good trade for getting to blow a nut himself. He let his stiffies guide him then. It was only after it was all over that Lamar again promised himself that next time he would say no.
He was older now, more mature, better able to handle the sometimes intense horniness arising from his crotch.
“Will you jerk me off too? On the downlow?” Lamar asked. “I mean… since you don’t wanna take it in the ass-“
“Nah, I don’t do that,” Nelson said, taking Lamar’s words as acquiescence. “Thank you, baby. I’ll tell yo’ uncle you doin’ real good. I won’t tell ‘im about this.”
“Okay.”
“It don’t count in the dark, nigga. By the time morning comes around, you gonna be walkin’ normal again,” he said. “And if not, I’ll take you with me back to the office, so you get a whole day to recover. It’ll be like this nevuh happened.”
Then Nelson pumped his hips, slamming his dick into Lamar’s ass. Lamar bucked and squealed. A sharp burst of pain hit him, and he arched his back. Lamar held his breath and gripped the hose supplying his showerhead for support.
“Sssh, sssh,” Nelson said. “When you and yo’ buddies mess around on the downlow, you ever do it in the butt?”
“Uh… no…” That wasn’t true, but Lamar didn’t want to admit it to Nelson.
Nelson smiled. “I ain’t realize that, nigga. Hmm-hmm, I’s takin’ yo’ intactness,” he said. “Sorry ’bout that.” He paused to grab a bar of soap and work up a lather. He used that as lube as he slowly worked more of his dick into Lamar. He handed Lamar the bar of soap so he could use both hands to guide his cock.
As soon as he grabbed the soap, Lamar knew he was going to drop it. It slipped right out of his hand and plopped onto the wet wooden floor. Lamar gasped, and Nelson laughed.
“Go on then, bend over,” Nelson said. “That’s a better position anyway.”
Sharp, shooting pains ran up his side as Lamar bent over. He had no sooner touched the soap when another ray of agony shot through him. Lamar gasped as a deep ball of pleasure boiled up too — it felt distant for now, like it occurred behind all the pain, but it was undeniably there.
“Grab yo’ ankles, boi,” Nelson said.
Lamar did so. He couldn’t decide if this was a more or less painful position than any others. He gritted his teeth as Nelson pushed another inch or two of his dick in, and that pit of pleasure grew stronger.
Then Nelson’s hand crept around and grabbed Lamar’s dick. Lamar yelped again, even though it wasn’t a surprise. He lifted his head as intense pre-orgasmic energy roiled through him.
His ass loosened up enough that Nelson could plow him more easily, a fact that Lamar found humiliating. It was comforting to know that Nelson wouldn’t bring this up tomorrow. Nelson even kissed him on his grizzled neck, his own thick mustache bristling against Lamar’s skin.
Then Nelson’s free arm wrapped around Lamar’s body and held him close. His smooth chest rubbed against Lamar’s back, muscles rippling. Lamar’s dick pulsated beneath Nelson’s grip. Lamar wanted to let go but didn’t. The more he squeezed, the more Nelson’s whole body rippled and his muscles flexed where they pressed against Lamar’s limbs.
“You gonna nut now, nigga?”
“I dunno…” Lamar said, breathless. He wasn’t lying, but as soon as he said it, he knew the correct answer was yes.
Nelson seemed to realize that. He licked Lamar’s cheek. “I love feelin’ niggas orgasm when my dick’s inside ’em. So go on. I wanna feel it,” he said. He repeated himself over and over, his deep, gruff voice resonating in Lamar’s ear. Lamar really wanted to tell him to shut up, but before he could, his orgasm hit him. He moaned and bucked, hips flexing as he pushed his ass backwards onto Nelson’s manhood.
Hot cum sprayed within the shower, mixing with the warm water and slipping between the slats of wood that made up the floor. Lamar writhed in Nelson’s biceps as pleasure erupted deep within him.
Nelson held on tight as the orgasm burst in Lamar’s ass, spreading throughout his body. Then Nelson let out a long low sigh right in Lamar’s ear, making the hair on the back of his neck stand up.
Both of Nelson’s arms wrapped around Lamar’s belly. “Sorry ’bout this, nigga. Might hurt a bit,” he said softly. Then he rammed his dick in and out in a series of long, smooth actions. Blinding pain erupted in Lamar’s ass, and he bit his lip to avoid screaming. The pain grew more and more intense before transforming into intense bliss.
He didn’t know how long Nelson plowed him hard like that. It felt like eons, but was probably only a few seconds. Soon enough, it was over and Nelson held on with his dick at maximum penetration.
Then hot semen spurted out, coating Lamar’s insides. Lamar moaned, embarrassed at how orgasmic the sound was — he didn’t mean to sound like he was enjoying this, even if a part of him did enjoy it. Intense sensations wracked his body, and he cried out as spasms of pleasure spread through his frame. He hoped it sounded like pain to Nelson, so he wouldn’t think Lamar wanted to do this again.
He did want to do it again. He just didn’t want to want to do it again.
He shuddered with humiliation as wad after wad of cum flowed into him. It dripped down his thighs and landed on the floor. The creamy semen seeped into every corner of Lamar’s body.
“Gimme yo’ hand, boy,” Nelson said with a growl. “I don’t like it when my dick just fall out of a nigga’s ass. Keep stroking it, okay?” He placed Lamar’s hand on the root of his limpening dick as he slowly withdrew it.
Lamar gulped nervously but did as he was told. Nelson’s dick was thick and slimy, dripping with shower water, soap suds, dried sweat and sticky semen. Lamar’s stomach churned and he gagged at the warm texture of it.
Finally it was all the way out. Nelson kissed him on the lips, and even shoved his tongue into Lamar’s mouth. Then he stepped away and washed his dick off in the stream of hot shower water.
“You okay, nigga?” he asked.
Lamar winced and straightened his legs. He still felt burning pain, and deep inside, remnants of his orgasm, but he tried to hide it. He mumbled, “Yeah, it’s okay, nigga.”
“What?”
“I mean… I’m okay, sir.”
“Good. I put a tub of aloe in yo’ bunk. It’s under yo’ pillow,” Nelson said as he walked back to his clothes. He didn’t put them on though, he just put that hardhat back on his head — that was legally required, after all — and picked his clothes up. “Put that aloe in your ass. It’ll help,” he said, then walked out of the tent, bare cock flapping in the breeze.
Lamar breathed a sigh of relief. That hadn’t been too painful, he thought, and at least he didn’t get caught. He shuddered at the silhouettes of his redneck coworkers, who were still hanging out by the campfire, hollering at each other and thwacking each other’s asses with their cocks.
The sound of their carrying on filled the night sky. Lamar just smiled, washed his ass off and walked to his tent. That had been humiliating, he thought, but fun as well, and it seemed like a worthwhile trade if it gave him a chance to work here and pay off his debt. Just like Nelson, he remained naked on the walk to his bunk except for the hardhat he kept on his head. The aloe was there at his bunk, just as Nelson had promised, and it did help the pain.
He managed to sink into restful sleep before the rednecks even got back to their bunks, and for the first time since he got there, Lamar felt like he was where he was supposed to be.

The Librarian

Everyone’s always surprised Traymon is a librarian, but for a man like Avery, that’s of secondary importance — what matters is that Traymon is a muscular alpha male willing to give Avery a swing on his massive throbbing meat!

Read it now as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Avery thought that Traymon was a generally polite and solicitous person, because that was the way he acted. It wasn’t until he happened to see Traymon in a grocery store one day that Avery realized it was all an act.
Perhaps that shouldn’t have been surprising. In the Sidetop Public Library, Traymon was a librarian. Since he was a shockingly tall black man in a kangol hat and a dense Muslim-looking beard, he didn’t exactly fit in. The other librarians were mostly either elderly white women who struggled to right-click a mouse or politically activist young women who struggled to put down their abortion signs long enough to come into work. Traymon was the only male librarian, possibly in the whole county-wide library system.
And he wasn’t just male, he was handsome and strong and stately, with a voice like a bottle of bourbon and a bulge in his cheap slacks that attracted Avery’s eye. Traymon had muscles pushing against the fabric of his button-down shirt — literally, his body didn’t seem to fit in his shirt. It looked as though flexing his biceps would make his clothes fall apart like a Hulk.
Did he do that deliberately? Or was he unable to afford clothes that fit? He probably needed to shop at the Big & Tall store, which was expensive and way out across the state line in Maryland.
Whenever Avery came into the library and saw Traymon, he was unable to tear his eyes away from that powerful frame. Avery was a great admirer of the male physique, and Traymon’s was an exemplar.
“That’s right, ma’am, I do work here. I’d be glad to help,” he said. Even when he spoke quietly, his baritone voice boomed like a cannon, echoing smoothly in the tiny library. He didn’t really have a quiet voice. His voice sounded like his chest was so massive his words resonated around in there before making their way out, so they came out echoey and cavernous. The little old white lady who had approached the information desk quaked.
She whispered something Avery couldn’t hear. He wasn’t trying to eavesdrop on that though. He was busy fantasizing about Traymon.
He spoke so properly at the library, but when Avery ran into him at the grocery store, he was hanging out with a couple of other young black men — younger than Traymon. They had been talking about something, but the only words Avery could make out were Traymon saying, “yeah, nigga, I made that ass shake, you don’t even know, she was vibratin’ all over my meat.”
He hadn’t been speaking properly at all. He had been passing himself off as a thug. Or had he simply stopped trying to pass himself off as a kindly librarian? Avery didn’t know which was the case.
He didn’t much care either. It was mildly interesting, but Avery wasn’t here for that. He was here to jack Traymon off. He’d been wanting to do it for weeks.
He waited until the end of the night. Avery knew from personal experience that Traymon closed up alone. He let the other employees go when it was still light out. He even escorted them to their cars like a gentleman before returning to close up.
Avery waited for that tonight. He pretended to read a book in the study room, which was out of the way enough that Traymon wouldn’t know Avery was here until he checked right before leaving for the night.
“You have a good night too, Missus Thickman, uh-huh,” Traymon said. “Lemme get the door.” She must have told him to call her by her first name, because Traymon then said, “Oh thank you, darlin’, Vera. Aren’t you a sweet young thing? If you weren’t too young to date, I’d ask you out.” She must have let out an old-lady laugh too quiet for Avery to hear, but Traymon responded with some friendly laughter of his own.
Avery straightened his back there in the study room, and he moved himself to a more visible seat. After a few minutes, Traymon came back in, sans Vera. Avery still sat there, waiting to be noticed. He heard Traymon moving around behind the counter, finishing up for the night.
Then, at last, Traymon came closer. “Hello, anybody there? We closin’ now, you best wake up if you out there.” It didn’t sound like he had any expectation that anyone would be left in the library. He looked in the bathrooms and down each of the rows purely out of habit. “Hello?!”
Avery stood up and put out a shocked look as Traymon came around the corner and saw him. Avery cleared his throat. “Oh, are you closed?”
“Yes, sir,” Traymon said.
Avery nodded and grabbed his things. He headed for the door. He took in Traymon’s intoxicating scent, which was almost enough to get him hard in itself. He brushed past Traymon’s thick chest on his way out of the study room.
Then he headed for the stairs to the main floor. The front lights were already off, but there was emergency lighting that never turned off. Avery stopped there at the base of the stairs.
“Hey, can I ask you a question?”
Traymon frowned. “Yes, I’m a real librarian. I know I ain’t typical.” He flexed his arm and kissed his bicep. “It’s just what I do, y’know. Ain’t nothin’ wrong wit’ a brother gettin’ a degree in library science. In fact-“
“Yeah, yeah, sure, I get that, that’s not the question,” Avery said. “Though it’s kinda related. I was wondering…” He pulled out a wad of five hundred dollar bills. “What you’d be willing to do for five hundred dollars?”
“Man, I ain’t a thug, I ain’t beatin’ up no one for you, I swear to Christ-“
“No, not that-“
“You axin’ me for coke? Can’t get you coke, man,” he said. When he spoke to Vera moments ago, he said ‘ask’, but now he said ‘ax’. That wasn’t a racial thing either, as Vera Thickman was black. Maybe Traymon reverted to his natural accent when the library reached its closing time.
“No, no this is nothing like that,” Avery said. “What if you just stood there and closed your eyes and let me jerk you off? I’ll swallow your cum til you dehydrate. And I’ll give you five hundred dollars.”
Traymon frowned and chuckled. “Hmmm…” He grunted. “Uh. Uh-huh.” He shifted his weight between his feet. “Uh… yeah. Five hunnerd bucks? Okay.”
Avery dropped to his knees as soon as Traymon said it. He leaned against the check-out counter, near a stack of children’s books. Avery unzipped his slacks and took his cock out. It was thick and veiny, hefty enough to have some weight to it when Avery flopped it over his mouth, and the scent of his musky crotch assaulted Avery’s nostrils through the open fly.
“Man, you said you wanted to swallow it, honky. Whatchoo playin’ at? If you wanna do it, do it. Put it in ya mouth and get it wet, shit…” He leaned back as though bored already. He sucked on his teeth, then leaned forward so he could see the front door and make sure nobody was coming in.
Avery smirked and started licking the shaft, his tongue running up and down it, tracing the veins that ran the length of it. He planted his lips on the tip and made a loud moist suckling noise. He still hadn’t started throating it yet. He just sucked on the tip like a lollipop he was trying to melt in his mouth as quickly as possible.
A gurgle of desire came from Traymon, covered it up with a grunt like Avery’s efforts were minimally acceptable. Avery knew that wasn’t true. He gave dome like a champion.
Traymon had only unzipped his khakis and undone his belt. His pants were open but not down. His shirt was in the way. Avery didn’t mind — in his view, that just made this whole thing more aroousing. He could smell the musky fabric of his khaki pants, which he had probably worn more than once since he last washed them, mixing with the artificially “fresh” detergent scent of his cleaner underwear.
“C’mon, man, if you gonna deep-throat it, get to swallowin’. Open that mouth up and get it down.” Traymon chuckled dryly. He swiped his dick — just getting a bit hard now — over Avery’s face. “You like that, man?”
“Hmmm… I do…” Avery smiled up at him. He stuck his tongue out and chased Traymon’s dick with it, trying to lick it while Traymon tried to rub that limp shaft over his face. Traymon kept a tight frown on and he kept looking away with a sigh like he really wished Avery would get on with it. But a smile flickered over his face too.
Soon enough his cock was rock-hard, throbbing like an alien engine, and it had swollen to such a huge size Avery wasn’t sure he could swallow the whole thing. He’d love to try though. He slathered spit up and down the shaft, then slurped all that saliva up, then spat it out again. Each time Traymon let out a grunt that turned into a moan that he stifled back into a grunt, like he didn’t want Avery to think he was doing a good job.
But Avery was doing a good job. He always gave good dome, and he could tell Traymon loved it by the his rapidly hastening breath and pulse and the way he kept shifting his weight between his feet. Traymon’s hands hovered above Avery’s head. Every minute or two, he held Avery’s head in place so he could throat him down, making love to his mouth like a delicate pussy, then he let go again. Avery only swallowed him to the root when Traymon forced it, otherwise he let it jab around on his face and in his mouth while Avery chased it with his tongue.
Finally Traymon roared. “I know you just teasin’ me. You wanna swallow it fo’ real, right?”
“I do…” Avery said coyly. That was his cue to start really throating. He went as far down as he could in one smooth motion. He was practiced, so he was able to swallow Traymon like a champion. His nose buried itself in Traymon’s pubic hair, and his throat soon fought because Traymon finally rocketed to full erection.
A long low moan chambered its way outta Traymon’s throat, and his knees went weak. He grabbed Avery’s head, and this time, he didn’t let go. He pounded away at Avery’s throat while emitted a series of spine-tingling moans of ecstasy. His dick throbbed in Avery’s mouth, its veiny shaft pulsating against his tongue. Avery smiled up at Traymon, whose eyes were closed.
“Wait…” Traymon stopped moving, but he didn’t take his dick out. Avery made eye contact with him, and Traymon furrowed his brow. “When I said I’m a real librarian, you said that wasn’t the question you wanted to ask, but it was related. Why was it related?”
Avery had to laugh even though he still had Traymon’s dick in his throat. That made him choke, his whole body spasming. He didn’t stop though, not until Traymon dragged his cock out and frowned at him.
“I’s askin’ you a question, man, answer me.” He crossed his arms over his chest. His dick bobbed in front of Avery’s face. Avery, gasping for air, chased it with his mouth until Traymon swiped it away. “I swear,” he said, “white boys can’t even handle having a conversation in front of black dick.”
Avery giggled and blushed. He sighed. “I just meant that I thought you were handsome, and librarians usually aren’t muscular and well-formed, that’s all. That’s what people are always asking you, right? If you’re a real librarian? Cuz you’re too muscular to be a librarian. But you are muscular enough for me to admire your physique and… you know…” He motioned to Traymon’s cock, then planted his tongue on the knob.
Traymon eyed him suspiciously. “That’s weird.”
“Exactly.”
“So you ain’t one of them white cuckold dudes or somethin’? You got a thing for mandingo dick?”
“Not unless they’re attached to a man like you,” Avery said. “But no, I’m not turned on by library science and didn’t really need to know how or why you became a librarian.”
“Hmmm.” Traymon nodded. He ordinarily got annoyed when people acted like it was an oddity for a black man to become a librarian, especially a big tough guy with a beard and a criminal record like him. So he should have been happy that Avery didn’t care about that. But now that he had someone uninterested in whether he got his degree through a prison education program or not, Traymon kind of wanted Avery to know about it all.
Regardless, he wasn’t about to give up on an orgasm partway through. He drilled his dick back in Avery’s mouth. This time he kept his arms crossed over his chest.
“No hands,” he said when Avery tried to hold onto the root of his dick. Since Traymon’s arms were over his chest, neither of them could touch his dick as he slammed it in and out of Avery’s throat. It wasn’t quite an aggressive throating — which Avery would have been fine with — it was more of a warm, passionate humping in his mouth. Avery swallowed it the best he could, moving his head to match Traymon’s hips movements, so he could keep on swallowing that massive veiny shaft.
Soon the sour and sweet flavor of precum hit Avery’s senses. He moaned and swallowed it, choking down as much as he could. He loved precum. He always snarfed it down and smiled the whole time, every time. He thought precum was better than actual cum because it reflected a man’s inner nature. It smelled and tasted and felt like his entire body, while actual cum, Avery thought, was all more or less the same: too salty to have an individual flavor.
Precum flowed copiously down Avery’s chin. Traymon smeared some of it around with his thumb, smiling at the desirous look in Avery’s eyes. Traymon could land plenty of sexy chicks who wanted him, but it was rare for them to love sucking his dick.
That was why Traymon liked blowing his nut in men. He rarely admitted it, and he never told those men that he did it often. He preferred to make them think it was something he would never do, that they’d have to seduce him — or give him money — to do it.
But he adored getting dome from a man because he could really pound their throat like he was doing now with Avery. He could make his balls slap against Avery’s chin and even pinch his nostrils shut to make it easier for him to swallow the whole thing.
“Hmmm…”
“You wanna stick me in the ass?” Avery asked, pulling off his dick and letting it spew precum on his lips. That muddled his words, making them sound like he spoke into a glass of syrup, blowing bubbles with his lips as he talked.
Traymon grunted. “Hell yeah.” He chuckled as Avery stood and gripped the shelves behind him. “You holdin’ onto the African American history section. Sounds ‘ppropriate to me.”
Avery smiled and gripped the metal shelf tightly. He gritted his teeth as he felt that thick dick slide into his ass. It was girthy and long and so hard it made Avery wince. He gasped.
But Traymon petted his scalp and said, “Hmmm… it’s okay, man, it’ll feel good in just a second. You just gotta give ol’ Traymon a second to find the right angle. How ’bout that?” He drilled in from one angle, and Avery let out a pleasured moan. His ass stretched to accommodate Malcom’s meat.
That wasn’t good enough for Traymon, however, who kept stroking Avery on the head and neck. He massaged him gently as he penetrated him from a different angle. A few more inches made it in this time, and it sent a wave of pleasure through Avery’s body. Avery gripped the library checkout counter hard with both hands, and he lowered his head to lay his face down on the cool counter surface.
This time, Avery’s howl of desire was so loud it echoed in the library, and Traymon looked around again to be sure no one else was here. He laughed at Avery’s frenzied squirming and his intense panting, as Traymon slowly worked his dick inch by inch.
“Damn, my man, there it is, that’s the angle you been waitin’ for, I expect.” Traymon loved bringing his bottoms to pleasure, and on that score, it didn’t matter if they were male or female. He couldn’t stay hard if the person he was with wasn’t having the orgasm of their lifetime.
So no matter how much his body cried out for him to force it into Avery as hard as he could, from whatever angle helped his giant dick fit in better, Traymon didn’t. He found Avery’s prostate and rubbed his dick against it, smiling when he saw Avery’s legs shake and his hands turn into claws that grappled with the shelves.
“Shit… Aw, fuck, man…” Traymon moaned.
Then, he and Avery both stopped — the door opened. The main door had swung open on the ground floor. If the lights had been on, whoever had walked in would surely have seen Avery and Traymon. But instead they were bathed in darkness, silhouettes indistinguishable even with the dim emergency lighting that never turned off.
“Shit — shush….” Traymon pulled his cock out, and Avery flopped to the ground. It took all his concentration to avoid shouting and groaning out loud, so he ended up rolling around like a dying fish. Traymon hurried to pull his pants up. He still had a hardon, and his cock dripped with precum and anal juices. He grimaced as he put that in his khakis — that was going to feel filthy, he thought, and his dick was still awkwardly erect.
He went to the stairs. “Yo! Who’s there?”
“Oh, Traymon… is that you? I thought that was your car outside. You’re still here?”
“Vera? Yeah… I’m, uh… I was just about to leave,” Traymon said.
“Oh, well, I forgot my phone,” she said. Traymon came down the stairs. He had to walk slowly because his dick was hard in his pants, and he couldn’t let it show. It made it very awkward to use the stairs. He was so focused on that that, by the time he reached the main floor, Vera had found her phone.
“You got it?”
“Yes,” she said. She gestured for him to follow her to the door. Traymon gritted his teeth. She smiled. “Aren’t you leaving?”
“Uh… yeah. My keys is upstairs though. You surprised me,” Traymon said. His chest and neck were dappled with sweat, even though the library was cool. Vera was too far away to notice though. “You go’n ahead. I’ll see you tomorrow, darlin’.”
“Oh, uh, well… Okay,” she said with a shrug. She tottered towards the door.
She had never walked so slow. Traymon walked up the stairs as she left, moving casually, like he was just looking out for his keys. Vera must not have been paying much attention to what Traymon said, or she would have noticed that it made little sense for his keys to be upstairs. Why would he have put his keys in the nonfiction section? But she either didn’t think of that or was too polite to ask.
Traymon waited at the top of the stairs,listening intently for the heavy front door to slam shut. His erection was finally starting to subside, which made it uncomfortable every time he took a step and his sensitive shaft rubbed against the fabric of his underwear.
When he heard the front door click shut, Traymon raced into action. He practically sprinted the rest of the way, even though that made his cock jostle painfully in his khakis. He found Avery, still sprawled out on the floor, and Traymon pulled his pants back down to his ankles. He lifted his shirt up enough that it wouldn’t get in the way and plunged into Avery’s ass like he was putting out a fire.
“Aaaaaaah….” He moaned, his mind finally relaxing now that he was back in Avery’s tight, warm ass. His cock throbbed, and both men erupted in throes of ecstasy. His hands rested on Avery’s smooth back and caressed it as he worked his entire foot-long cock up Avery’s behind. “There you go, thanks for waitin’ while I dealt with that old broad.”
“Hmmmmm… Thanks for coming back,” Avery said. He tried to raise his ass, to get on all fours, but Traymon’s heavy body kept pinning him down.
Finally Traymon realized what Avery was trying to do and lifted his head up. He wrapped one arm around Avery’s neck, putting him in a light chokehold. He dragged Avery into a doggystyle position, all without missing a beat. Avery was too stiff and orgasmic, on the verge of his own climax, his dick throbbing in his hand, to move in a coordinated way.
It was the most intense orgasm of Avery’s life. He cried out, muffling the sound at first and then shouting as loud as he could when he realized it didn’t matter. His shouts echoed in the high-ceilinged library. He hadn’t accepted a dick this big in his ass in a long time, and Traymon was his new favorite librarian.
“Ah, god, I’m gonna cum in ya, I’m goin’, I’m goin’, you ready?” Traymon breathlessly grunted into Avery’s ear. His breath condensed into a layer of moisture on the side of his head. His pecs rippled where they pressed against Avery’s back.
Avery shot his load at the same time, beginning just before he felt the first drops of Traymon’s cum coat his insides. Avery wanted to cry out again, to scream his orgasm into the darkness of the library, but the sensations roiling within him were too intense. He could feel Traymon shooting into every inch of his body, coating his insides in creamy, sticky warmth.
It seeped throughout him and soaked into his body. Avery couldn’t believe how much cum there was, flowing into him like a flow from a massive hose. He felt the creamy heat of his cum spreading through his insides. Traymon’s heavy balls drained deep into Avery’s body, until it dripped down the sides of his hole and into a puddle on the carpeted floor of the library.
“Aaaah… goddamn…” Traymon said as though he was done, but he kept pistoning his hips. He grunted like an animal, like he couldn’t believe he was still going.
Avery couldn’t tell if Traymon was still cumming or not. He felt semen flowing in and out of him, but that was probably just because Traymon was still moving his dick around. It twitched within him, and he frothed his load into a big wet mess that flowed over his limpening mahogany cockshaft.
Finally, he pulled out, and Avery let out a chest-rattling moan. He twitched and fell limp on the ground, marinating in the puddle of cum and juices that lay there. Avery rolled over onto his back so he could see Traymon, who kneeled there.
He had never taken his shirt off, and his pants were still around his ankles. Avery’s toes rubbed over his dickshaft, while Traymon breathed heavy. Then he stood and sighed. Avery grabbed some tissues from the nearby circulation counter, and he wiped his own ass off. Traymon stood there like he expected Avery to clean his dick too, so Avery did so.
“Damn, boy,” Traymon said with a dry laugh. He stroked Avery’s smooth chin. “I like you a lot. You gonna be a regular patron?”
“I dunno, maybe…” Avery smiled. “I do like this library.”

The Foreman

When Rob meets factory foreman Ezra McCormick, he didn’t know he was in for a ride on his massive, muscular meat! Can Rob accept Ezra’s hot, throbbing authority?

Read it now as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Rob’s eyes opened wide when he saw Ezra McClintock. He wasn’t expecting someone like that. He knew it was silly when he walked into the factory — he had the assumption in his head that a factory that made specialty graphing calculators was probably full of bespectacled nerds with pens leaking over their pocket protectors, their whiny singsong voices drowned out by the whirr of the machinery.
But that wasn’t the case. Just because it was used by nerds didn’t mean it was manufactured by them.
Mr. McClintock was statuesque and powerfully built, that was why Rob was shocked — also he had arranged this meeting through email with a woman named “Kendra”, so he was predisposed to picture a bunch of nerds and women. But that wasn’t Ezra McClintock. Kendra was just an office manager. Mr. McClintock was a rough-edged black man in his mid to late forties, with big burly shoulders and a broad barrel chest. His hair was jet-black and trimmed neatly — it was so black that Rob suspected it was dyed, since Ezra seemed old enough he ought to have a few gray hairs.
His most attractive feature, however, was not the way he barely fit in his workshirt and dickeys, it was his mustache.
Nobody wore mustaches like that these days. It was a glorious mustache, 1970s-style, making Mr. McClintock a man out of time, Rob thought, phenomenally huge and bristly, like he had a push-broom on his upper lip. It trembled as he shook Rob’s hand.
“What can I do for you? We got some older types around, but I dunno how they can help ya,” Mr. McClintock said. He led Rob into his office but then he sat on the edge of his desk. “We don’t advertise in magazines.”
Rob was momentarily flummoxed. Mr. McClintock sat on the edge of the desk, with one foot resting on the chair at the other side of the desk — meaning there was nowhere for Rob to sit. If Rob weren’t distracted by the massive bulge in Mr. McClintock’s workpants, he would have realized that he chose this position to block the chair and get Rob to leave more quickly.
That bulge was huge. His cock was at least a foot long and it looked as thick as a beer can. Maybe that isn’t his dick, maybe he had something in his pocket, Rob thought.
“Oh, uh… I’m not selling advertising,” Rob said. He blushed, his voice wavering because he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the cock-bulge in Mr. McClintock’s workpants. They were thick, canvas-like pants, stained with bleach near the ankle and a big grass stain on the left ass and thigh, like he had been wearing them when he slid into home during a baseball game.
He kind of looks like a baseball player, Rob thought. He was too thickly built for basketball, and probably not swift enough for football, even back when he was younger. He had a heavy, plodding way of moving and talking; he was solid, all heft and mass, shifting his weight as though he found his own muscles tiresome. He chewed on his lower lip.
Rob cleared his throat. “Uh, sorry, I, uh… I didn’t say I was selling ad space. Our magazine is aimed at older readers, and uh…” He blinked his eyes a few times, his purpose here today vanishing from his mind. He blushed. “Uh… An article on factories! We’re doing an article on older people who work in factories, and we wanted to find some workers to interview.”
Mr. McClintock grunted. “How old is older?”
“Sixty-five.”
“We got one, he ain’t gonna be yo’ type though, mistuh,” Mr. McClintock said. When he spoke his mustache worked up and down like an excited bat, even as his face and his voice remained flat. “He a good worker, but… He don’t even work on the factory floor, he’s in the mailroom.”
“Oh, well, still…”
“He got Down’s Syndrome.”
“What?”
“He got Down’s Syndrome. He disabled as shit, man,” Mr. McClintock said. “He livin’ in a care home and e’rything. You wanna interview him? You go ahead. I dunno if he got anything to say that might be relevant to yo’ readers. He do talk though, he ain’t one them non-verbals, he talks, he do.”
“Oh… I mean…” Rob tried to be diplomatic. “I’m sure, uh… his experiences are… Uh… full of useful-“
“You don’t gotta be politically correct.”
Rob smiled awkwardly. “I don’t want to interview him. That won’t be… maybe sometime in the future, we are planning a disabilities issue.”
“Well, sorry, man, he the only over-65 we got workin’ here,” Mr. McClintock said. He sniffled like that was the end of the conversation, and he expected Rob to leave. He picked up a stack of papers off his desk. He rifled through them before looking up at Rob once more.
Rob’s mind whirred. That mustache was amazing, he thought, and he would give anything to see that fat cock sliding into his own mouth. He wanted him so bad he could already taste it.
But how to tantalize him? Rob often offered guys money for a chance to swing on their meat, but Mr. McClintock was already a foreman at a large factory — he probably wasn’t in need of cash, and he might be offended at the suggestion that he was.
“You need somethin’ else, man? I gotta get back to work. Can’t be hangin’ out wit’ some journalist all day,” he said with a throaty chuckle and a sigh.
“Oh, I’m not a journalist,” Rob said. “I own the magazine. We only have three employees so far, and I’m doing a lot of the research and-“
“You own the magazine?” He lowered his eyes. “You rich?”
“Well… I have a lot of money tied up in assets,” Rob said. He laughed a little nervously. “Most of those lose money though. Like the magazine is notionally worth a half-million, but if I tried to sell it today I’d be lucky to get fifty grand. It’s technically cash-flow positive, but, uh… It’s complicated. Anyway, I-“
“Uh-huh. So you lookin’ for new business opportunities?”
“Always,” Rob said. “But I have a business manager I have to justify things to. Don’t expect me to, you know-“
He waved Rob away. “I gots an opportunity for you. You gonna have to seize it real quick. You wanna sell some graphing calculators?”
“What? That’s not a market I’m in…”
“Well, man, I gots an idea. I was tellin’ my boss ’bout this, but he weren’t… he wasn’t open to new ideas at the time,” he said with a knowing frown. “When we get supplies, like the computer chips and the plastic cases and all that, we always get a couple extra in case some got damaged. We can make them into actual calculators. The only thing we don’t got is the batteries — we buys ’em from Duracell in bulk and put ’em in the package with the calculator, but Duracell don’t give extras. Mr. Bossman don’t wanna make a separate product line that’s the same thing ‘cept without the batteries pre-installed, ya dig?”
“Right…”
“But we already gots ’em, and the supplies don’t cost nothin’. We could churn out another five-hundred calculators a month at no extra cost beyond a few bucks in overtime pay,” he said. “You feel me? You gettin’ where I’m goin’?”
“Not exactly…”
“Well, man, we can make them calculators and sell ’em to you. No batteries, no logo. You buy ’em for us at twenty bucks each, you can sell ’em to college brats like my idiot stepson for two hundred bucks each.”
“Is that… legal?”
“Ain’t breakin’ no criminal law, nosir,” Mr. McClintock said. “This is our property, and we’s allowed to sell it. My contract with the company don’t really allow for that, but it ain’t a crime. Worse they can do is find a new factory, but we the only factory in North America that makes graphing calculators. They ain’t gonna wanna build a new one, cuz this is a dyin’ industry anyway. So they gonna look the other way, if they ever find out — they prolly won’t cuz no one gonna know. You could put ‘Made in Vietnam’ on the package, ain’t no one ever gonna think to check.” He paused. “That part is illegal, that’s on you, if you wanna mark the packagin’ incorrectly, I ain’t gonna make my boys do that.”
“Hmmm…” Rob tried to think. The math certainly worked out. This would be a good profit-making opportunity, if only he could get away with it. But there was also a chance he was being scammed, he thought. Maybe Mr. McClintock was trying to offload a couple hundred calculators that didn’t work.
“Maybe I could sweeten the pot,” Mr. McClintock said when Rob hesitated. He pointed to the chair, on which his foot still rested — Mr. McClintock sat on the edge of the desk, so when Rob sat there, he faced Mr. McClintock’s crotch.
Mr. McClintock rolled his eyes. He was annoyed with how much some men appreciated his physique. It was kind of funny, he thought, when he was young, he didn’t mind getting jerked off because he was horny and they were easy and he could do it without going out on dates or sweet-talking a female. But some men swished in his direction all the time — they liked older men. The older Mr. McClintock got, the more he noticed men checking him out, blatantly staring at him, fat slobby perverts blushing as they begged for his dick — he always said no — while the kind of pretty girl who used to go crazy for his muscles became more and more turned off by him. Nowadays most young women thought he was creepy, not sexy. Girls are prudes these days.
Though it was annoying, Mr. McClintock didn’t mind letting men jerk him off. He always made a big deal out of it because most of them would pay if they thought he was reluctant, and because if he seemed too eager, they’d want to do more than just handle his dick. Mr. McClintock had given handjobs before, and he didn’t like to think about that. If he wasn’t desperate for cash, he wan’t going to do it again.
But to offload these useless calculator parts? And to make a profit off it that he could keep for himself? He’d gladly let Rob jerk him off every month when he picked up the calculators, and hell, he thought, he’d kiss Rob for that.
“I’d like to make this happen, man,” Mr. McClintock said. He looked up and unzipped his workpants. He let his dick flop out. He sensed Rob’s eyes opening wide. He crossed his arms over his chest, which made a few hairs visible over the upper edge of his shirt — there, Rob noticed, were the gray hairs he suspected Mr. McClintock dyed off his head and his beard.
Rob’s heart fluttered. That dick was just as big as he had thought, the bulge wasn’t an optical illusion at all. It was like a massive brown cucumber, he thought, no, bigger than any cucumber, but firm like one even though it wasn’t hard. Rob touched it gingerly to see how Mr. McClintock reacted, but he just grunted and ignored Rob.
One of his fingers ran up and down the shaft, tracing a bluish vein barely visible against the deep brown of his skin. He had a lot of dickskin too, Rob thought with a suppressed laugh as he wrapped his hand around it, it was still limp and that skin moved along with his strokes. It put out a palpable wave of heat, and it pulsated in Rob’s grip. He leaned in and smelled it.
The scent was musky, zesty, spicy, glorious. Rob took a huge deep sniff of it, then blushed because Mr. McClintock looked at him like a loathsome slug. Rob kept both of his hands on the shaft though, and he kept stroking it slowly, not trying to get it hard, just sort of petting it.
This dick might be more than a foot long, Rob thought, it might well be the biggest dick I’ve ever touched. He blushed and said, “it’s so big…”
Mr. McClintock sniffled. “Won’t get hard if you just play wit’ it. You gotta swallow it.” He stood up straighter. “And you gotta get deep on it too, get it real nice and wet. Go deep on it.”
Rob nodded. He didn’t want to go too fast though. He slapped himself with Mr. McClintock’s dick, which was so thick and heavy it really almost hurt to be hit with it, like it was a warclub. He stuck his tongue out and chased it, getting a few tastes of his funky, cocoa butter-scented dick but not actually tasting it yet.
“Hmm-hmm, see you just playin’ wit it,” Mr. McClintock said. “I got no time for you to play around, man. Just do it it if you gonna do it.” His mustache twitched.
“It’s gigantic, I wanna play with it some, okay?” Rob said. He put the tip in his mouth, playing with the loose skin there, while Mr. McClintock rolled his eyes. “You’re all business, Mr. McClintock. Relax-“
“No.” He grunted. He leaned back and took his dick away from Rob. “I got work to do. If you ain’t serious-“
“Fine, fine, I’ll do it,” Rob said. He tried to grab Mr. McClintock’s dick from him, but he slapped Rob’s hand away.
“Fo’ real?” He shook his head and stroked his chin. “Goddamn, wussy-ass sissies always play fuckin’ games… can’t just do what they want, y’know.” He forced Rob’s jaw apart and slid the tip of his dick in there. “Unless you can really deep-throat the shit outta me, there ain’t much point. Lemme just jack off on ya tongue.”
“That’s not as hot-” Rob said, his voice muffled and cut off by Mr. McClintock’s dick slipping into his mouth. He struggled to take it because it was so thick. He had to stretch his mouth. He tried to say, “will you ram me in the ass?” But his mouth was full, so all that came out was a confused jumble of sounds.
“Hmmm-hmm… If you do this, I’ll let you get a nut outta me off e’ry time you come pick up the calculators, okay? It’s gotta be you, I don’t wanna deal wit’ delivery guys or whatevuh,” Mr. McClintock said. He kept one callused hand on Rob’s head, trying to ram Rob’s throat though his dick remained only partially hard. It coiled like a big black rope all over Rob’s face. “You can jerk me off then e’ry time, okay? No anal. I’ll let you play wit’ it a bit, and you can touch my muscles. But just for a few minutes, okay? I ain’t yo’ boyfriend.”
“No anal…? Come on…” Rob said with a winsome smile. “Can I tell you a secret? I’m a great deep-throater. I can swallow your entire dick and beg for more, and I’ll choke down every drop of your cum like no woman ever has-“
“Yeah, right.” He chuckled, ropy dick twitching where it rubbed over Rob’s face. “You can’t even swallow half of it. I shoot big loads, man.”
“If I get the whole thing in there, or enough anyway that my nose hits your pubic hair,” Rob said. “Will you kiss me when we’re done?”
“You want me to kiss you?”
Rob nodded and blushed. “I’ll swallow first, it won’t taste like cum.”
“Ya lips’ll still taste like cum,” Mr. McClintock said. He sighed and flared his nostrils. “Fine, whatever, you won’t be able to do it anyway. If you can’t, if you fail, you gotta lemme just jack off in your mouth real quick, cuz you ain’t gonna get me hard any other way.”
Rob nodded. “Deal.” He opened his mouth as wide as he could and let Mr. McClintock flex his hips, forcing his dick down Rob’s throat. Rob relaxed himself as much as he could, even as he felt suffocated and his lungs cried out for oxygen.
He really was a very good deep-throater. He had been playing around — Mr. McClintock was right about that — but when he loosened up his jaw, he was able to slide inch after inch of rapidly hardening black meat down his throat. Mr. McClintock looked at him directly for the first time since this began, watching his dick fill Rob’s throat.
“Goddamn, whiteboy,” he said. He let out a whistle. He was about to add more, but then a wave of pleasure hit him and his dick finally got hard. It was quick once it got started. Before Rob knew it, he had to lift his head because Mr. McClintock’s dick was as straight and immovable as a crowbar. His heart sped up, and Mr. McClintock groaned at the realization he had lost that bet. He wished if he was going to kiss Rob that it would be before the dome, not after.
He couldn’t deny it that he had done it before though — not with a man, but when he was growing up in Chicago, kissing a girl after she sucked you off was a sort of a rite of passage. It was disgusting but it was dirty and sexy and raunchy and a lot of guys bragged that they did it — they bragged both that they did it and that they thought it was gross, so it was a fine line to hew. You had to do it willingly while being unwilling to do it.
A grunt escaped from his clenched lips. He frowned and tried to pretend he wasn’t as impressed as he was — he didn’t want to give Rob the wrong impression. His dick throbbed in Rob’s throat, which clenched around it. Rob gripped Mr. McClintock’s asscheeks through those thick workpants, clutching them to hold on as his lungs cried out for air.
Mr. McClintock pulled his balls out through the fly of his workpants — which he realized now he had been wearing the last few times he let a man get a nut outta him as well. They must reek of his cum, he thought.
His balls slapped against Rob’s chin. Rob was dizzy from lack of oxygen, but he refused to pull off until he absolutely couldn’t take it. Then he gasped for air and held his mouth open so Mr. McClintock could see how good he did it, how open his throat was and how his mouth was coated in Mr. McClintock’s precum.
Then he went back to stroking, to deep-throating that massive shaft, while stroking his balls with one hand to bring him to orgasm. Rob throated that shaft until his nose pressed against Mr. McClintock’s fleshy crotch, nuzzling his pubic hair and rubbing his chin against his ballsac.
At last he felt those balls rising up in the sac, and Rob gagged uncontrollably. Mr. McClintock’s dick throbbed as though it was coming alive. Mr. McClintock had been rather absent for most of this dome, letting Rob do the whole thing, but now as an orgasm shuddered through him, he grabbed Rob’s head and held on tight.
“Oh fuck yeah, boy…”
Cum flew down Rob’s throat, right into his belly. Mr. McClintock’s shaft was so deep in him that Rob didn’t even taste it right away. He felt it flowing hotly into him, but it didn’t touch his tongue. He sensed it in the pulsations fo Mr. McClintock’s cock on his tongue and the rising up of his balls as he prepared to bust one of his fat wads.
It was hot and creamy, and it seeped into Rob’s flesh like nothing else could. He moaned and choked and begged for more all at the same time, and Rob’s hands clasped Mr. McClintock’s trunk-like thighs. A baritone grunt came from Mr. McClintock, who thrust his hips one more time, making his balls slap Rob in the chin.
“Goddamn, boy, swallow that shit…”
He shot a huge load, especially for an older, mature man, Rob thought, his mind reeling as his lungs cried out for oxygen and his throat spasmed painfully. He thought he might lose consciousness before Mr. McClintock withdrew his dick slowly.
He moved very slow. Mr. McClintock loved this part of dome, but women never let it happen like this — he pulled out slowly, using both hands to force Rob’s head to remain in place — and to cover his face so Mr. McClintock didn’t have to see it. Rob squirmed, his throat squeezing as he tried to take a breath, but Mr. McClintock’s dick didn’t allow it, and he removed it arduously slowly. Every inch to get squeezed on was a new source of pleasure that wracked Mr. McClintock’s body.
Finally Rob tasted it, salty cum coating his tongue when Mr. McClintock’s cocktip finally reached his mouth. Rob took a deep, hoarse breath and spat up a mouth full of cum that spilled out over his mouth and lips. He gurgled and smeared it over himself before sucking most of it off his fingers.
That thirteen-inch dick throbbed limply over Rob’s face. Rob nudged it with his nose, giggling at the exhausted look on Mr. McClintock’s face. Rob smacked his lips and opened his mouth again to demonstrate that he had swallowed.
Then he stood. “Kiss me…”
Mr. McClintock looked like he might back out. His brow furrowed, eyes narrowing, his lips grim and tight. Rob had swallowed his cum, but Rob’s face and lips still glimmered. He was definitely going to taste like it.
He had kissed men, and he had kissed women who tasted of his own cum, but he had never kissed a man who tasted of his own cum. He closed his eyes and lowered his head, thinking he should just get it over with. Then he let out a loud croaking gag when he got close and smelled Rob’s breath — he smelled like a brothel and a well-used jockstrap, Mr. McClintock thought — was that what his dick smelled like? No wonder his wife refused to suck him off anymore.
But he wasn’t going to shirk his duty. He had agreed to kiss Rob, so he did so, even as he let out another baritone gag. It was just disgust, after all, he frequently had to deal with nasty and even painful stuff here at work. He could deal with it.
Rob’s mouth tasted snotty and sticky, his lips sour and cottony. He could tell right away that he was going to taste this for a long time, he wouldn’t be able to wash it away. Their tongues interlocked in Mr. McClintock’s mouth. Rob’s tongue moved around, but Mr. McClintock didn’t move anymore than he thought he absolutely had to.
He only pulled away when Rob began sucking on his upper lip and the mustache there. Mr. McClintock gagged again, but then resumed his stiff, dour look, his soft dick still dangling out of the fly of his workpants.
“You okay?” Rob asked.
Mr. McClintock nodded. He didn’t trust himself to speak because he thought he might gag again, and he didn’t want to look weak.
“Well, then, I guess we have an agreement,” Rob said. He kept playing with that huge dick until Mr. McClintock scowled and tucked it back in his pants. Then he stood, kissed Mr. McClintock on the neck, and walked out of his office. “I’ll see you on the first of the month to pick up the calculators.”
Rob was exhilarated as he left. There were a lot of hot older guys in this factory, he noticed. The average worker was about forty or forty-five here. Rob had a lot of opportunities, he thought with a squeal of glee.
Coming back here every month was going to be fun. He could mess with Mr. McClintock for calculators, then jerk off the rednecks and blue-collars for beer money. They’d probably even gangbang him for a big enough payday, he thought with a shiver of anticipation.

The Stripper

Lemond is a stripper who needs a break… and a few extra dollars! Avery is glad to help out in return for a swing on Lemon’s huge throbbing slab of mahogany meat!

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Avery had never been to a high-class bachelorette party. It was not at all what he expected. The bride-to-be was Daphne Jardine, a wealthy heiress to a chandelier fortune. Avery didn’t know her that well — she was just a friend of a friend whom he saw often at parties — but she had insisted he come. Avery only agreed because he hoped to see a stripper. Avery was a great admirer of the male form, and strippers often had incredible physiques.
When he arrived, however, at Daphne’s ancient mansion, Avery decided that wasn’t going to happen. This wasn’t that sort of party. People who owned mansions like this didn’t hire strippers. He didn’t realize Daphne was this rich.
A butler showed Avery to the party, which consisted of a half-dozen women drinking champagne. The decorations were present, everywhere, scattered expertly, chic and expensive, covering every part of the mansion, but they had a certain soulless quality — Avery could tell that some servant had put them up, not someone who actually wanted to attend the party. There were streamers and a golden goblet for the bride to drink out of, and the giftbag included a skin cream with actual diamond dust in it.
“Oh my god, Avery! I’m so glad you’re here!” Avery’s friend Mandy hugged him. She whispered in his ear, “Oh my god, Daphne has such a stick up her ass, it’s… like a whole tree.”
“Woo, we’re partying! Let’s bring out the cake!”
“Yeah! Oh my god, Daphne, do you know what your fiancé is doing tonight?”
Daphne sat, skeletal and grimly smiling — she was skinny and well-manicured, with brittle hair and a saccharine smile — and shaking her head. “I don’t know, he wouldn’t tell me what men do on their bachelor parties.”
“You know what they’re doing…” Avery said with a laugh.
Daphne shot him an angry look. “I told him no stripper, if that’s what you’re implying, Avery. We are remaining loyal to each other. He wouldn’t do that to me.” She shuddered.
“Okay, sorry….” Avery murmured. He rolled his eyes. The putative stripper was the only reason Avery came.
But now, it seemed, she was opposed to strippers. As a servant of some sort — some sort of “games maid”? Avery didn’t know — brought them out a game to play, Avery considered leaving. This felt more like a child’s birthday party thrown by the servants than a real bachelorette party.
The music playing, Avery realized, was a nocturne by Chopin. What kind of bachelorette party played classical music?
The game was essentially Duck, Duck, Goose, but with little penis-shaped cookies — it might have been fun with a bunch of silly girls, a male stripper and enough alcohol that they were all drunk before beginning the game. With just Daphne and some other haughty bitches, none of whom would drink enough to get tipsy much less drunk, the game was a somber, annoying diversion.
There was a knock on the front door — the cavernous main hallway had an echo, so the knock was audible even in the party. Everyone turned to look at Daphne, but she just said to wait. “Velma will answer the door. I believe this is all the guests, right? Are we missing someone? No one else was invited.” Daphne furrowed her brow.
Avery sat in grim silence. No one wanted to start the next round of this utterly idiotic game knowing that whoever the new partygoer was would interrupt them momentarily. Avery looked among the women here — who was missing? Most of these women showed up to parties together, that was how Avery knew them. Mandy was an associated hanger-on who used to work with Daphne at her feminist bookstore, and she was how Avery came to know Daphne and the others. Now Mandy’s eyes twinkled in Avery’s direction.
The door opened, and in walked a tall, broad-shouldered black man in a fine suit. He had dimples like LL Cool J and light brown skin, with a broad chest that barely fit in the suit. It was a plain navy blue suit with an impeccable alabaster tie. He walked with swagger and a thick jaw, and the bulge in his pants attracted Avery’s eye.
“Daphne Jardine?” he said. He had a clipboard in hand.
“Yes.”
“You’ve been served,” he said. He handed over a stack of documents to her.
Daphne’s face turned into a bitter scowl. “I’m being served! You asshole! It’s my bachelorette party! How dare you?!” She called out of the room. “Velma! How could you let this man in? He’s not from the party! Velma! I swear to Christ, I’ll have your son deported-!”
“Daphne, wait! Wait!” Mandy got up and went to her.
But Daphne was in a rage, screaming at Velma in the hallway. Velma quaked and backed away from her. “Don’t tell me to wait, what is this? Is it that jerkoff from the City Council? I told him I read the code, his patriarchy won’t bring me down,” she said to the black man who had served her with papers. His eyes were opened wide like he was shocked she was upset. Daphne wagged her finger at him. “Are you a real process server? I’d like to formally dispute that I was properly served-“
“Daphne, what are you being sued over?” Mandy asked with a big grin on her face. She pointed to the papers in Daphne’s hand.
Daphne sighed and shook her head. “The city council has a bee in its bonnet about my store. They’re claiming that a bookstore is a Class D commercial establishment, but the definitions provided in the zoning code make it clear that Class C is the more appropriate fit. That’s for retail stores that aren’t everyday shops like gas stations. The examples given in the city code include a CD store — the zoning guide was written in the 90s — which is pretty much the same thing as a bookstore, right? Why would it-?”
“Daphne, look at the papers,” Mandy said, exasperated.
Daphne nodded and glanced at them, but it was obvious she was too worked up to really process what she was reading. She looked at the black man. “You! What are you still doing here? This is a private function, and you’ve done what you were hired to do, you jackal! You court-sponsored… hound!” Her face was ruddy, veins popping against the skin of her neck.
“Hey, lady, relax,” the black man said with a sigh. He straightened his tie.
“Daphne! Read the goddamn papers!” Mandy said.
“Now? I have lawyers for that, Mandy,” Daphne said. She finally looked at the papers and read the words. “I’m being sued for… improper use of party-related materials and utter craving for mahogany manmeat. What does that mean? I don’t use mahogany, that’s endangered, I would never do that! This inaccurate accusation will not stand! I’m being persecuted!” It was apparent she was still worked up because she said manmeat like she didn’t recognize it. She looked up. “I will be contacting the National Organization for Women and-“
The black man looked at her. “That’s right, but don’t worry, I’m here to work on both of those charges with you! I am… the Mahogany Miracle!” He shrugged his suit jacket off, and Mandy squealed, followed by the other girls, at the sight of his incredible shoulders straining against the tight fabric of his button-down shirt.
Mandy pressed play on an app on her phone, and the sound of pulse-pounding hip hop filled the air. Avery hurried to turn off the Chopin, though no one could hear it anymore.
“Wooooooh!”
“Oh my god, that’s so crazy!”
“He’s a stripper!!!!”
Finally it began to feel like a real party. The Mahogany Miracle — who later said his real name was Lemond — took his tie off and wrapped it around the back of Daphne’s neck like a lasso, and he pulled her closer to him as he danced. He puckered up as though to kiss her. He had good instincts though, and when Daphne frowned a little, he let go — obviously she didn’t want to kiss him. She was still fuming about the City Council’s zoning regulations.
So he kissed Mandy instead. She was coming up behind him, pretending for the benefit of the other girls that she was going to grab his ass. Then he turned around, took her in his arms and plowed his tongue into her throat and they swooned together like the hero of some romance novel.
Mandy squealed and grabbed at Lemond’s back. His shoulder muscles barely fit in that shirt, which looked like it could pop right off.
“Woo-hoo!” Avery danced with some of the more demure women, hoping to get the party going. Most of these women were too high-class to have ever seen a stripper before, and Avery thought they’d be more comfortable with it if they started off dancing with him.
“Dance with him!”
“Avery! Avery! Avery!”
Avery hadn’t even realized that some of the women were chanting for him to get the next dance — Lemond the Mahogany Miracle was surrounded by Mandy and a few other relatively bold women, while Avery and the other prudes danced in the other side of the room. Now they all began chanting for Lemond to come to him.
At first it seemed Lemond would refuse, that he would say he didn’t dance for men. But then he shrugged, took one step and ripped his button-down shirt off, buttons flying across the room. One button landed in Daphne’s glass of champagne, and she squealed in both shock and delight.
“Oh god…” Avery murmured to himself. Lemond had an impeccable chest, with big mountainous pectorals and a six-pack more perfect than Avery had ever seen. He looked good in his slacks, a big bulge plainly visible in his crotch. His chest was smooth, unblemished, gleaming with a few beads of sweat that had collected there as he danced.
Avery blushed and pantomimed a fishing rod, as though he had lured Lemond, who grinned and played along — neither could speak because the music was too loud. Lemond shimmied over to him, and leaned back to outstretch his chest.
“Body shots!” Avery shouted, and got on his knees right in front of Lemond. He put his tongue out, touching the firm flesh of Lemond’s waist just above his pants, while Mandy poured a bottle of champagne onto Lemond’s chest, so that it ran between his pecs and poured directly into Avery’s mouth.
“Hell yeah!”
“Body shots! Oh my god!”
That helped loosen things up. Avery was glad for that; it felt more like a party now, even if Daphne herself seemed glum. The girls took turns taking body shots off his chest, until those slacks were soaked with champagne.
Then he ripped the pants off, revealing his trunk-like thighs, toned calves and the sausage-hugging banana hammock he wore over his cock and balls. Avery’s jaw dropped — he had never seen such a huge package before. The banana hammock briefs were much too small for him, just like the suit, and if he hadn’t shaved it, most of his pubic hair would be visible. As it was, his heavy cock and balls weighed down the tiny spandex material so much that the root of his shaft was visible.
Mandy took her body shot with her tongue out, running over the round bulge of his cock through those briefs. The girls all squealed and clapped.
It was shocking, Avery thought, how the presence of a handsome stranger changed these women’s willingness to do stuff — he was quite sure that most of them had said they didn’t suck dick at a party last year — they had said oral sex was “oppressive to women in developing nations”; they certainly didn’t lick some stranger’s cock.
And now here they were, kneeling while a man whom none of them knew dragged his dick over their faces.
He was really very handsome, Avery thought, Mandy had chosen well. He was dimpled and charming when the music stopped, with a lilting, smooth voice. He came across like the streetwise older brother on a Nickelodeon kids’ show.
Finally, he let Daphne take that banana hammock off. She gingerly squealed, giggling, blushing, halting several times as she stuck one finger under the fabric and pulled it down. His thirteen-inch cock popped out, limp but meaty, and it slapped at her wrist.
“Oh my god! It felt like a leg of lamb!” Daphne screamed so loud that the “games maid” came to make sure everything was alright. Daphne held her hand up as though they were going to worship any body part that had touched Lemond’s body.
At last, the bachelorette party continued apace, and Avery felt right. Lemond flopped his dick all over Avery’s face — most of the girls hadn’t quite taken it that far, but Avery made it clear he’d love to. He even stuck his tongue out, chasing Lemond’s shaft as it heavily slapped him all across the face.
“Hmmmm… I’m not s’posed to let you lick it,” Lemond said with a wink. “My agency has a rule against that.”
“I just stuck my tongue out,” Avery said. “I wasn’t trying to lick it, it’s not my fault your dick keeps moving around all over my tongue.” He blushed, running his tongue from the root to the tip before Lemond moved on.
By then, some of the girls had passed out, or were nearly there. Even Daphne was half-asleep. Most of these girls didn’t really drink very often. A few glances of champagne was enough to make them sleepy.
Soon enough, the party was over. It happened quickly once it got closer — every time somebody passed out or called for a rideshare, there was one fewer person actually partying, which made the others more and more tired. Even Daphne “retired to her bedroom” with a guilty look on her face that suggested she was going to fuck herself with a dildo until she could forget about Lemond.
The only people left were Avery, Mandy and Lemond, and with the music off, all they ended up doing was sitting around and talking. Mandy was drunk, but neither Lemond nor Avery had had anything to drink. Lemond rolled them up a blunt with the weed Mandy had brought.
Before he lit it though, Mandy begged off. She said she had a headache and thought the weed would just make her throw up. She told them to go ahead and smoke it though.
Lemond talked about his career as a rapper as he lit it and passed it to Avery, who was entranced by that fat cock sticking to his thigh. Lemond, as it turned out, was more realistic than most of the aspiring rappers Avery had met — he wasn’t trying to be a gangsta, he didn’t care about street credibility at all — he was a kid’s entertainer. He had released an album of songs about counting, letters, body parts and colors. It had done well, he said — he didn’t make much money, but he was about to go into the studio for a follow-up, and this time, he had a much better contract.
“But for now, you know, I still gotta strip to make ends meet. This month is tough,” Lemond said. “There ain’t a lotta call for strippers in March. It’s been a dry spell.
“Oh that sucks,” Avery said. “I wish I knew of some more parties coming up you could strip at.”
Lemond shrugged. “I’ll figure something out. Lemme know if you get an idea,” he said. He handed over a business card. Then he sighed. “I guess I should go. Technically they hired me for another twenty minutes, but…”
“I… I have an idea,” Avery said. He licked his lips and looked at Lemond. “If you stick it in me, I’ll give you five hundred dollars.”
Lemond looked at him as though his knee-jerk reaction was to say no. Then he shrugged. “Make it eight hundred.”
“Fine.” Avery considered haggling, but he could afford it, and Lemond had been so charming, he didn’t want to nickel-and-dime him.
Lemond sighed and leaned his head back as though this was a huge imposition and he was exhausted. Avery wondered for the first time if he had been working up to this — was he a hustler? He had been hesitant, yet willing, to dance for Avery all night, and now he was hesitant yet willing? If shaking his ass for Avery had been uncomfortable, why would he agree to plow into him? Lemond grumbled a bit, but it was too realistic, like Lemond knew the best way to get more money was to pretend he needed to be convinced to do it.
Oh well, Avery shrugged. That was part of being into rough trade, he thought, sometimes you got hustled.
“Your cock is so big,” Avery said as he picked it up with one hand. He sunk to his knees between Lemond’s legs, while Lemond lit up his blunt and took a deep drag off it. The fragrant smell of weed filled the air. Lemond’s dick was so big Avery couldn’t wrap his fingers all the way around it. “It’ll be a challenge to swallow.”
Lemond snorted. “You can’t deep-throat it, no one can,” he said like he hated having a big cock. But a smile flickered over his lips too.
“Well, I can’t wait to try,” Avery said. He let the tip fill his mouth. There was still a good ten inches of dickmeat left to slurp on, but Avery just focused on the tip at first.
“Man… I can’t believe I’m lettin’ a man jack me off,” Lemond said as he smoked on the blunt. “I ain’t like that, you know? Don’t fall in love with me. I can’t look, I gotta cover my eyes.” He leaned his head back and put one of his forearms over his eyes. He left enough room for him to keep smoking on the blunt.
Avery had to roll his eyes. This had passed the point of believability — Lemond was too focused on smoking weed to lie effectively. If he was really this nervous about being with a man, he wouldn’t be ignoring Avery to smoke the blunt. Who got off from a man for the first time, made a big deal out of it and then ignored it to smoke some weed?
But Avery wasn’t going to accuse him of being a hustler. He was plenty handsome, after all, that wasn’t a trick.
His dick firmed up in Avery’s mouth, but it was too big to really get hard without some serious deep-throating. Avery took a deep breath and used his own fingers to pry his jaw open the best he could. He let that massive rod slide down him.
“Damn, I never had a man jack me off like that,” Lemond said with a sigh. “You really get deep.” Then his whole body startled and he blurted out, “I mean, I never had a man jack me off at all.” He laughed nervously. “See, uh… Cuz it’s my first time.” His eyes opened wide as a visible shiver of pleasure ran up his spine. “Goddamn… You can get awful deep on there…”
Avery was an expert at swallowing dick. He had been practicing on loosening up his throat for years — he did exercises daily — and was glad to see that was paying off. He pulled off and hocked up a big mouth full of spit. Lemond watched with a cocky grin on his face. Avery moaned through the moisture in his mouth, murmuring, “Hmmm… I wanna taste your whole dick in my throat…”
Lemond licked his tongue. The clue was in his mouth, Avery saw, which was grinning and pursed, excited, glad to get a nice mouth, while his eyes showed the shock he was trying to display — he was a good liar, it was just hard to lie with your mouth. Lemond’s eyes had never been jacked off by a man, but his mouth was a hustler.
Saliva slid down his shaft as Avery slammed his head down. He choked but kept going, hands roaming up to Lemond’s gorgeous pecs. Soon he gagged over and over, producing more spit that helped lube up Lemond’s throbbing manhood, and his nose pressed into the shaved skin of Lemond’s crotch.
“Goddamn, holy fuck, you’re — shit!” Lemond’s voice broke, and he writhed on the chair he still sat on. His muscles all flexed and he grunted loudly. He dropped the blunt on the floor. Thirteen inches of stripper manmeat flooded Avery’s throat, stretching it and making him sputter. His jaw was sore.
Though Avery’s mind cried out for oxygen, he didn’t want to stop just yet. He didn’t mind his lungs desperation or the heaving, retching his body went through. The fact that this was slightly painful just made it hotter, he thought, and all the tension in Avery’s body was in Lemond’s too as he approached his orgasm. The only difference was that Avery’s lithe body twisted, while Lemond’s thickness flexed and firmed up. Lemond gasped and shifted around on his chair. Soon he was literally on the edge of his seat, licking his lips, gripping Lemond’s ears to keep his face angled the right way.
At last, Avery pulled all the way off and gasped loudly, hoarsely, for air. He grinned at the shocked look on Lemond’s face. “Hmmm… Your dick tastes so good.”
“I know, baby.”
“You wanna stick it in me?” Avery said. He turned around, still heaving for air and dizzy from lack of oxygen. He showed off his bare ass, lowering his face to the floor. “C’mon, I wanna feel you inside me.”
“Hell yeah, lemme in there,” Lemond said. He wedged his dick between Avery’s cheeks. “You feel how big that is? Huh? You gonna take that whole thing in there? I bet you can.”
“I can… You won’t be gentle, will you?” Avery asked with a giggle.
Lemond chuckled. “Not if you don’t want, baby,” he said. He aimed his dick for the hole as he smeared lube over the shaft — he had apparently brought his own lube. He bit his lip and slid the tip in. Avery grunted and tightened his body instinctively, before taking a deep breath and relaxing it. He sighed. Lemond slapped one asscheek, then he grunted like he had forgotten he was supposed to be reluctant.
“Shit, you as smooth as any female, I like that in a man-” he winced and cut himself off again. “Not that I ever did it before. I like — That’s why I was, y’know, reluctant, I wasn’t sure I could handle a man’s ass. That’s all.”
“Uh-huh. Cuz… it’s your first time?” Avery said with a tense giggle. He had to suck in his breath to relax his ass more and more, as that entire thick shaft slipped in deeper and deeper. “That’s good lube,” Avery said between gasps.
“Yeah, it’s Shaft-Slipper, you ever heard of it? Good stuff, it’s what I always bring to shows.” He paused. “With women, I mean. Women pay for, you know…” He shuddered and his voice broke. His dick was all the way in now, all thirteen inches throbbing in Avery’s ass. Lemond backed his cock up, slowly at first as he began gyrating his hips.
“Women pay you for anal? You’re an… anal gigolo?” Avery giggled. It was getting easier to concentrate even with that forearm-sized cock stretching his asshole, and he felt thin slivers of pleasure flowing through his veins.
“Uh… Yeah. Yeah, some of ’em, uh… really love anal,” Lemond said.
“I… don’t believe you,” Avery said, his voice hoarse and breathless. He slid his ass back on Lemond’s cock. “You cornhole men for money all the time, right?”
Lemond smirked but shook his head. “I swear, you’re my first.”
Avery rolled his eyes. “No woman pays to get fucked in the ass by a thirteen-inch cock.” He grunted, reaching behind himself to guide Lemond’s dick in and out. “Only a man would ever do that.”
Lemond grumbled without answering. He wrapped one of his massive biceps around Avery’s head, so Avery’s face was ensconced in his stone-like muscles. His other arm held Avery’s ass firmly in place. “Women love me,” he said, ramming his dick in, the entire shaft in one motion that made Avery howl with pleasure. “They’ll pay anything for my meat…”
Avery’s cock throbbed, precum dripping onto the floor. Avery’s hands flailed, the sensations coursing through his body so intense he couldn’t even jack himself off. He was impaled on Lemond’s rock-hard shaft, and the best part was how Lemond seemed distant now, moaning, groaning, but still just heavy breathing into Avery’s ass — was Lemond really enjoying this that much or was he exaggerating for Avery’s benefit? It was impossible to be sure. Avery squirmed in his arms, gasping, licking, sucking all the sweat off his body.
“Hey… I really need the money, man,” Lemond said. He whispered directly into Avery’s ear. “I’m desperate. You wanna gimme another five hundred bucks? I’ll admit it, you were right, I’ve stuck men before. I’m not proud of it, I just… I need the money, and I need it now.”
“Oh god, stick it in me!” Avery slammed his own ass back and forth the best he could, but he was curled up in Lemond’s arms. Lemond was motionless right now, his cock standing up straight within Avery’s ass. Lemond breathed heavily, his hot air condensing on Lemond’s ear.
“I will. I want to. For five hundred dollars… I’ll do something nasty,” Lemond said. Then he whispered right into Avery’s ear as though it was a secret. “I’ll give you a reacharound and let you kiss me for five hundred dollars. That’ll be thirteen hundred total. No checks.”
“Okay, yes! Yes!”
“You got cash?”
“Not with me! Not all of it! I swear, I can get you the rest! I swear! Do it!”
“Don’t mess with me, man, I’ll mess you up, and not in a way you enjoy,” he said.
“I won’t! I’ll pay!” Avery felt tears in his eyes. He wiggled this way and that on Lemond’s crotch, but he couldn’t move forward or back because Lemond’s powerful arm held him in place.
Lemond thought for a moment, then sucked on Avery’s earlobe and said, “Fine.” He turned Avery’s head to the side, planted his lips on Avery’s and his tongue invaded Avery’s mouth. At the same time, his hand wrapped around Avery’s cock and gave it a stroke.
Avery had never felt anything like this. He had been swallowed up by Lemond’s massive body, and all he could do was take it. He’d never taken dick like this. Lemond’s tongue explored his mouth, while his hand expertly ran up and down his shaft. Avery’s fingers clawed at his stone-like body, which Lemond ignored.
The most intense orgasm of his life smacked into Avery like a train. He would have cried out loud but his mouth was clogged with Lemond’s tongue, so all he did was whimper. His ass loosened, then clenched tightly as Lemond plowed in.
Cum flew over Lemond’s fingers and onto the floor. Lemond had been holding off on his own orgasm, wanting to make Avery cum first — he’d been doing this often enough he had remarkable control over his cock. Once he felt that first spray of sticky cum on his hand, he rocked his hips back and forth a few more times and let his orgasm happen.
Avery shuddered and sobbed — he’d never cried during an orgasm before, but the pain in his ass was so intense he couldn’t help it, even if he didn’t feel the pain — he was aware it was there; he couldn’t help but be aware of the biggest dick of his life throbbing in his ass — it was like a distant pain that was happening to someone else, and Avery could sense it but not experience it.
Instead, he experienced an orgasm. Red-faced and panting, he accepted every drop of Lemond’s load as he begged for more. Avery felt cum trickling throughout him, Lemond’s sticky wad jetting into him deeply, seeping into his flesh until Avery could feel it all over.
His tongue slathered spit over Avery’s face, which was a little sour and salty because he had been slurping on Lemond’s dick earlier — Lemond didn’t like that, but he’d done this often enough it didn’t bother him as long as it was his own precum. He did gag at the taste, but he knew that just turned some men on even more. When he gagged, his broad chest muscles all flexed against Avery’s smooth back.
At last, Avery fell limp, and Lemond knew that meant he was done. He backed up slowly, grimacing at the sight of his shaft stretching out that tight hole. It was full of cum, which seeped out and coated Avery’s ass.
“Shit…” Lemond said with a dry chuckle. He slapped Avery’s cheek. “I’m glad I did that, even if it was… y’know, gross.”
“Right.” Avery was breathless. “And it was your first time.”
“Uh-huh.” Lemond stood. He wiped his dick off and put his pants back on. He didn’t bother to put his pants on too. “I’m all done, man, I’m off. So… I’m leaving.”
“Okay, cool,” Avery said. “Thanks for the dick… Your first time.”
“Right, yeah, first time. I jacked off a man,” Lemond said absent-mindedly. He wasn’t really trying to lie effectively now. “Gross. That was gross. Cuz I never did it before.” He sighed as he got dressed. “You gotta get your phone out.” He snapped when Avery didn’t immediately jump into action. “You got PayUp, right? Go get yo’ phone. You best pay me. Lemond always gets paid.”

The Mover

When Rob hires the Garmon brothers as movers, he knew about their legendary physiques… but not about their legendary uncle!

That means Rob is in for a wild ride of ebony DILF action, and he just might have the most successful move-in of his life!

Read it now as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Avery felt like he wanted to throw up. Nothing was wrong with him, really, it was just the stress of moving in. He had purchased a new home and only now, after months of paperwork and last-minute snafus, he was moving in.
The only thing that distracted him from his anxiety was the movers. They were the Garmon Brothers Moving Company. When they showed up, Avery was floored — they had incredible physiques, like action heroes — but it wasn’t until a few minutes later that he recalled that was precisely why he had hired them in the first place. Months ago some friends recommended them and mentioned their outrageous physiques and the fact that they were usually shirtless. Avery chose them then but forgot why until they showed up, stripped off their shirts and got to work.
By the time the Garmon brothers were done, Avery felt a little better, if only because he had been staring at them instead of at his awkwardly empty house — he didn’t really own much furniture. He had never lived in a house, just apartments, and he barely had enough stuff to fill the living room. Aside from the mattress and bedframe, all of his things fit in one corner of the living room. The costs of moving in filled his mind, making it hard to think about anything else — Avery needed to set up cable service, a home security system; he needed to buy a wireless router, a couch, a couple chairs — how many chairs were normal? He had no idea, how many people should he assume might be here at one time? — and a lawnmower — how do you mow a lawn? He had never done it. What about a hot water heater? Did he need to buy one of those? His landlord had always taken care of that stuff.
The Garmon brothers were black, dark-skinned, all of them with the same barrel-shaped chests and huge biceps, built like the weightlifters they presumably were. They looked similar, with identical short haircuts and even the same tattoo (of their mother) on their chest above their heart, though they each had an array of other tattoos as well. It wasn’t even clear which of them was eldest, they all looked the same to Avery. Could they be quadruplets?
Seemed unlikely. But Jamid, Lashaun, Treyvon and Riddle Garmon looked shockingly similar.
They distracted Avery from his anxiety over the move. He paced uselessly around the house, alternating between staring at empty rooms and watching their sweat-dappled muscles tense and flex. When they didn’t see Avery for a little while, they started teasing each other, apparently playing some sort of game involving slapping each other’s asscheeks while carrying heavy things (apparently to make them drop stuff? The point of the game wasn’t clear to Avery, but he enjoyed watching).
There was one older one in the five-man Garmon crew, whom they just called Uncle. The Garmon brothers were young and virile and bull-headed, while Uncle was experienced, wizened and dripping with so much swagger it hurt to watch him.
He was tall, lankier than the others but still thick-bodied. He had ropy, well-used muscles, and just one tattoo, a Bible verse printed above his heart. He had a scruffy beard streaked with gray, though the hair on his head featured just one or two gray hairs. His muscles were taut and tight, like he had as much power as his nephews, just crammed into physically smaller muscles.
Avery liked older men like Uncle, who was a dilf if he ever saw one. He didn’t mind the younger boys too, with their six-packed abs and clean-shaved faces, but they paled in sheer power and swagger to their older uncle. He introduced himself as “Uncle” too, like that was his name. Maybe it was. Uncle Garmon. Probably not though.
When the four younger Garmons began loudly discussing a group sexual encounter recently, it was Uncle who snapped at them. He glared sourly and narrowed his eyes to slits.
Lashaun told the story of a gangbang gone wrong. “Man, I thought her thong was on my balls and then I remembered she took her drawers off, she threw ‘em on my face, nigga, I remembered that, so what the fuck is on my balls? So I reach around her and-“
“You was strokin’ my nuts, nigga, I thought it was her fingers, that was fuckin’ nasty-“
“You ain’t s’posed to slap yo’ balls on mine, Treyvon! That ain’t how you do-“
“Yo’ fingers prolly still smell like my nutsweat, you whiny bitch motherfucker!”
“Hey!” Uncle barked. He came into the living room in time to see their argument. Avery kept himself just around the corner, so he could see their shirtless chests heaving as they laughed and argued with each other, but Uncle didn’t see him. “Y’all niggas shut up. No ‘ffensive dialog. We can’t be gettin’ more complaints against us.”
The brothers scoffed and talked all at once. Uncle barked at them to shut up. Then Jamid, who was the oldest of the four Garmon brothers, spoke up. “He’s cool, Uncle. Don’t worry.”
“You don’t know that.” Uncle put his hands on his waist and frowned at his nephews.
“He one them muscle-admirers, Uncle.”
“Yeah, he, he like that.” Riddle might have put out a limp wrist, Avery couldn’t see from this angle, but he did something that made his brothers snicker.
“Bet he’ll like it if I flex my biceps.”
Uncle growled. “You pups best behave-“
“You ain’t in charge, Uncle-“
“Shut the fuck up!” Uncle eyed his nephews suspiciously. “Yo’ daddy said I was in charge-“
“He ain’t say that, he said we gotta give you a job, Uncle.”
“We know how to handle the client, Uncle. He be tippin’ me, man,” Riddle said, flexing his biceps and showing off his six-pack.
“Nuh-uh, you ain’t even seen how he lookin’ at my ass,” Jamid said. “You don’t even know. He gonna eat a BLT outta my ass. I bet I can talk him into givin’ me a grand to touch me, like that one freak, remembuh?”
“No way, he’s movin’, he won’t pay that much,” Treyvon said. He had a cocky grin on his face. “You know he’s gonna pick me. I’m the sexy one.”
“You the cute one, nigga, that ain’t the same thing. Girls like cute,” Lashaun said.
Uncle’s deep gravelly voice filled the air. He wasn’t as loud or as boisterous as the others, but his voice brimmed with authority that made it hard to ignore him. His nephews fell silent whenever he spoke. “What the fuck is you niggas talkin’ ‘bout?”
The Garmon brothers laughed nervously. None of them spoke at first. Then Jamid answered. “Uh… It ain’t, like… Lotta guys, you know… They been hirin’ us for a long time. I think they, like, trade our business cards or some shit. Like in certain clubs-“
“We got a reputation, Uncle. It don’t involve you. They like young boys, not old niggas.”
“They sometimes… you know-“
“All the time.”
“They always pay, like… extra, Uncle.”
Uncle furrowed his brow. “For what?”
“For dick.” Treyvon chortled and grabbed his dick through his jeans. He bit his lip and looked away. He and his brothers chuckled. They exchanged knowing glances, and they glanced behind themselves to see if Avery could hear. Avery was in the other room though, they couldn’t tell that he was around.
Uncle frowned. “What?”
“Don’t worry ‘bout it, Uncle, just go wait in the van.”
“Yeah-” They laughed and shoved each other’s half-naked bodies. Then they all hushed up because Uncle barked aggressively.
“What?!” He glared at the four of them. “Say that again. You tellin’ me to go wait outside? Like I’m some fuckin’ disobedient dog? Huh? Whatchoo-?”
“Relax, Uncle.”
“No one’s disrespectin’ you. This is just-“
“Chill out, Uncle. We know you ain’t wanna get involved in this, man-“
“Cuz it’s that rentboy shit? Huh? Yo’ daddy know ‘bout it? Huh?”
They laughed at him. “It ain’t like that, Uncle. He just gonna jerk some nigga off. It ain’t no thing. Chill out, Uncle.”
Uncle crossed his arms over his chest. He looked sourly on at his nephews, who smiled sheepishly. They rolled their eyes and exchanged eye contact.
Avery stepped into the living room then. The Garmon brothers straightened their backs. Treyvon fixed his pants to make them sag a little lower, so Avery could just see the shadow of his pubic hair extending above his waistline. Uncle was the only one who looked hostile, the others making faces they intended to be smooth and seductive (Avery thought they looked more like they were all holding in a fart at once, but still, he thought it was cute that they tried).
“Thanks for all your hard work today, boys,” Avery said. He pulled out his wallet. “Why don’t I give you each a fifty dollar tip?” He accentuated the word tip, then dropped his wallet on the floor. With exaggerated delicacy, Avery grabbed Jamid’s muscled forearm to support himself as he bent over. “Oops,” he said. He picked up the wallet. “But you still have an opportunity to earn more. There’s more work to be done.”
“What’choo need, suh?”
“I can do anythin you want,” Riddle said. He nonchalantly grabbed at his dick through his jeans. “You want a taste, right? I can see it in yo’ eyes.”
His brothers scoffed, and Jamid threw his hands up. Jamid had been trying to get his brothers to stop volunteering because it undercut their bargaining position. Jamid thought they should pretend they had never done it and that they hated it, so they would only do it for a large amount of money. No one could convince Avery he needed to pay a lot now, since Riddle had made it obvious that he was comfortable with this and had done it before.
But Jamid’s brothers were too rambunctious and headstrong for that. They didn’t like beating around the bush, and they definitely didn’t like pretended to be inexperienced. As soon as any client even hinted at wanting to swing on some big black dick, they started to making offers. Jamid had to join in or the clients would never choose him.
“Riddle don’t know how to treat ya right, boy!”
“For a hundred bucks, I’ll rock yo’ world, no problem! Just bend over and grab ya ankles!”
“Bam!” Lashaun simply pointed to his perfect six-pack abs, which Avery had to admit was remarkable. He would have enjoyed licking Lashaun’s hard body from head to toe.
Jamid seemed to think he was already a shoe-in because Avery had touched his forearm, which Avery did again as he thought. Jamid didn’t respond. His strong, noble jaw remained still. Avery smiled and licked his chest from nipple to shoulder, making Jamid shuffle awkwardly. He laughed to cover up his anxiety.
“You four have great physiques,” Avery said. He giggled. “I’d love to get rammed by all four of you.”
“Hell yeah-“
“Hundred bucks, whiteboy! I’ll rock yo’ world!”
“You want this meat, huh?!”
“I know you like my biceps, weirdo,” Jamid said, flexing his arm in front of Avery’s face. Avery licked up a little more sweat there.
Uncle cleared his throat. “All y’all niggas is nasty-ass suckers. I’m tellin’ yo’ daddy you rentboys fo’ a pervuht.” He nodded at Avery.
The other four all fell silent, unsure if Uncle had offended Avery. Uncle glared dourly at them all.
“Shut up, ol’ nigga. You don’t know nothin’.”
“A mouth is a mouth, and an ass is an ass. Pops knows that. As long as you do it on top, you know, as long as you ain’t the one gettin’ penetrated like a female, its okay. Pops do it too, Uncle. He ain’t a bitch.”
Uncle snarled. “My brother don’t do that! He-“
He stopped yelling because Avery approached him. Avery smiled as he heard the other four brothers chuckle. Then Avery pulled out a one hundred dollar bill and displayed it for Uncle. He tucked it in his shirt pocket as he sunk to his knees.
“I like my meat finely aged,” Avery said. He licked his teeth.
Uncle snarled and hissed, but he didn’t say anything. He glared at his nephews as though this was their fault. “Man…”
“You like ‘em old?”
“That ain’t how it’s s’posed to work.”
“He got a gray old dick, man-” Treyvon said with a laugh
Uncle smacked Treyvon right in the face. Treyvon’s face tensed like he was going to fight back, but then he didn’t. “Shut yo’ mouth, nigga.”
Treyvon looked down at Avery, who was on his knees in front of Uncle. Treyvon frowned. “He ain’t, y’know… He don’t do that, you gotta-“
“Shut yo’ mouth, nigga,” Uncle said again. He smacked Treyvon in the back of the head. “I ain’t say no.” He furrowed his brow and started at Avery. “Hundred bucks?” He snorted, chuckling as he unzipped his jeans and let a massive dick pop out. He took the hundred dollar bill out of Avery’s pocket before letting Avery get to work.
The situation was tense, but that just made it more arousing for Avery. He sucked on just the tip at first, making enough noise and moisture that it filled the dead air in the mostly-empty house. He slathered spit all over Uncle’s cocktip.
As he got hard, his massive dick turning veiny and throbbing in Avery’s mouth, Uncle ignored his nephew’s annoyed glances. Uncle grimaced and his hands formed fists at his side because he didn’t want to touch Avery’s head — he knew if he did, he’d start forcefully throating him down and Uncle wasn’t sure Avery wanted that.
“Uncle, I thought you ain’t like this-“
“Shut up,” Uncle said with a snarl. He began pumping his hips back and forth, letting his dick rub on Avery’s tongue and his lips.
His nephews chuckled to each other. They all looked away from Uncle’s dick sliding in and out of Avery’s mouth. The Garmon brothers flared their nostrils, annoyed that they hadn’t been picked. They each regarded it as almost a betrayal — they had thought they were going to make that hundred bucks, not Uncle. It seemed unfair since, as far as they were concerned, they had better bodies than Uncle. They didn’t get that it wasn’t all about youth and perfect bodies.
“Uncle…”
“You is one fuckin’ hypocrite, you was givin’ us shit just cuz you ain’t think he was gonna pick you.”
“You goin’ booty bandit now, Uncle? Why’d you try so hard to get out of prison then? Huh? Wasn’t you already where you wanna be-?”
“Shut the fuck up!” Uncle barked. He sniffled. “I only did this cuz I ain’t wanna deprive this little fairy, he deserve what he-“
“Then why’d you act like we was fucked up for doin’ the same thing?”
“You was gonna tell on us to Pops, Uncle! You was gonna tattle like a little boy.”
Uncle ignored them, watching his dick slip in and out of Avery’s mouth. “Get outta here, or I’ll tell ya daddy you was tryin’ to watch me fuck my bitch.” He paused and whispered to Avery — loud enough for everyone to hear — “don’t worry, boy, I don’t mean nothin’ by callin’ you a bitch.”
Avery nodded. He was getting annoyed by all the talking, so he grabbed Uncle’s hands and guided them to his head, hoping to distract Uncle from his nephews. Uncle was reluctant at first — he was used to throating his bottoms in prison, not on the outside. It was soon apparent that Avery wanted him to ram as hard as he could, which was not an invitation oft-extended in prison.
So Uncle crossed his arms at the wrist and gripped Avery’s scalp with both hands. He held on tightly as he drilled his dick in, ignoring the instinctual resistance that welled up from Avery’s throat. It squeezed around Uncle’s fat dick.
“Damn, he goin’ at it!”
“I knew you messed wit’ boys in prison, Uncle. You said you never did it-“
Uncle flared his nostrils. “I ain’t do it in prison wit’ no boy.”
“So this is ya first time?” The brothers snickered with each other. It was obvious none of them believed that this was Uncle’s first time. Avery had to admit that Uncle didn’t seem like a first-timer.
“Shut up.” Uncle moaned as his dick leaked precum. The salty-sour flavor assaulted Avery’s senses, while he struggled to hoarsely breathe. He clasped Uncle’s plump asscheeks, which were round and hairy, bare because his pants were around his ankles — that made him look silly, his nephews thought, because real gangstas either took their pants all the way off or only lowered them just enough to get their dicks out. Uncle looked like an idiot, they decided, shuffling around with his pants around his ankles.
His balls slapped against Avery’s chin. Avery was delirious, blinded by tears that had welled up in his eyes as his lungs cried out for oxygen. He reached up with his hands to massage Uncle’s barrel-chest and the grayish hairs plastered to his skin there with sweat from the day’s work.
As he continued to plow at Avery’s throat, holding onto his head while the precum flowed, Uncle dragged Avery to the corner of the living room where most of Avery’s boxes were. He had to shuffle because his pants were still around his ankles.
“Alright, boy, we gonna get deep in that ass now. You ready to bend over this box?”
Avery nodded, looking up at Uncle, whose deep dark eyes stared down at him judgmentally.
“You wrong. You ain’t ready. Finger yaself,” Uncle said. “Don’t stop it wit’cha mouf.”
Avery slipped a finger into his ass. He kneeled by one of the boxes, which had his bathroom stuff in it. He managed to find his tube of lube and smeared some in his ass, all without letting Uncle’s dick pop out of his mouth again. He slobbered all over that pulsating shaft, making Uncle grunt and groan.
“Uncle, we know you done it before-“
“Shut up.”
“Uncle, c’mon, man, you can admit it. It don’t even count in prison. It ain’t-“
“Shut the fuck up!” Uncle’s rough, gravelly voice rang out. He roughly pulled away from Avery, grabbed his shoulders and lifted him up just enough to toss him over the box. Avery was still desperate for air because his throat had been full of salty dickmeat. Uncle either didn’t notice or didn’t care.
He rammed his dick in right away and gripped Avery by the shoulder. Avery cried out. The pain wasn’t that intense, really — he had pre-lubed and fingered himself, which helped quite a bit — but it was awkward and difficult. Uncle didn’t take Avery’s feelings into consideration at all. He simply bent Avery over the box of bathroom supplies and rammed the tip of his dick right in.
Avery howled and bit his lip. Uncle’s nephews fell grim and silent, wincing because Avery looked to be in agonizing pain at first. That lasted only a moment, however, before Avery’s ass began to loosen and his prostate came alive. Uncle slammed into it again and again. He knew exactly what he was doing, Avery could tell, he had plenty of experience with this. His big callused fingers roamed all over Avery’s smooth both.
Uncle didn’t seem to much care about the pleasure wracking Avery’s body, making him shimmy and shudder like an electric snake. Uncle’s manhood rammed at every corner of Avery’s insides. He slapped Avery’s asscheek whenever he felt resistance, and he pounded away, getting a little more of his massive dick in with every thrust of his hips. He held Avery’s head down with one hand, while his other spread Avery’s asscheeks.
“Damn, Uncle…”
“He hittin’ that ass hard!”
A wet moan escaped from Uncle’s mouth, and he followed Avery to the ground as his entire cock shifted into him, pushing past the final remnants of resistance in Avery’s throat. Uncle’s powerful body tensed and flexed from top to bottom, pecs flexing, legs straightening. His dick throbbed in Avery’s ass, each throb intensifying the sensation, while Avery’s hands clawed at his iron-like thickness. Avery couldn’t breathe or think or move, all he could do was experience the incredible sensations arising from his ass. He had never taken such a big dick in his ass, and it seemed to get bigger with every passing moment. Uncle moved his cock as though he was an expert in teasing prostates, and he made Avery squirm with pleasure.
Uncle knew a lot more than he let on about ramrodding men. He didn’t see it in the same way as his nephews did because he was older and he was raised differently — as Uncle saw it, he hadn’t rammed any men in prison, he’d fucked “females”. They may not have been female biologically speaking, but in the prison hierarchy, that’s what they were. As far as he was concerned, the best part about booty-ramming was when the bottom orgasmed. He slowed himself down to be sure he didn’t finish before that happened.
So he was relieved when he felt Avery’s ass clench around his dick. The smell of cum filled the air. Uncle rather liked that smell — to him, it smelled like passion and love and excitement. That smell made everything bearable, and Uncle wished he could have brought Avery’s tight ass with him into prison. A long howl of ecstasy came outta Uncle’s mouth, and when he thought that might sound too passionate, he turned into a raspy-voiced chuckle. He sneered at his nephews.
“Fill ‘im up, Uncle!”
“Destroy that ass!”
Uncle’s nephews’ bravado had diminished though. They were less than thrilled about seeing their older uncle naked, and they were each upset (not that they would ever admit it) that Avery hadn’t picked them. They sucked on their tongues and lifted up their shirts to show off their six-packs even though nobody was looking in their direction.
Avery experienced the most intense orgasm of his life. He had never taken it up the ass this good. He couldn’t even guess how long it had taken — had it been a few minutes? A couple hours? He guessed it couldn’t have been too long or Uncle’s nephews would have gotten bored and left. But it felt like a lifetime.
At last Uncle sprayed cum into Avery’s ass, a thick and bountiful load that filled him up. Uncle’s entire body pressed onto Avery’s back, smearing him with frenzy-soaked sweat and condensation from his hot breath. Avery couldn’t breathe at all, not that he wanted to, he wanted to lay there and submit, allowing Uncle to spurt gallons of cum into him.
“Ah, goddamn…” Uncle moaned into Avery’s ear, making him shudder and shake. More jets of cream spurted into Avery’s insides, and he exulted in the sticky, warming goopiness of it. It was all over his insides, like he melted into Uncle’s muscles.
“Okay, Uncle, you done. You can quit now.”
“Yeah, you gonna cuddle wit’ ‘im?”
“You two could make out all night long if you want, but we leavin’ wit’ the truck.”
Uncle snorted. He lifted his head, his dick still limpening inside Avery. He grabbed Avery’s wallet and pulled out another twenty-dollar bill. He twitched his dick, reawakening Avery’s orgasm and making him moan. Uncle smiled for the first time since this had begun. “I’m takin’ twenty more bucks, boy. That’s yo’ payment for me doin’ you extra-good.”
Avery was too tired and full-up to complain. He would have given over the twenty if Uncle had bargained with him to begin with, so it didn’t seem like a big deal to let Uncle just take it.
Then Uncle’s dick finally plopped out, covered in creamy white cum. He let it rest there for a moment, wiggling it around and wiping some of his load off on Avery’s ass.
He tucked his cock away and stood up. “Alright, there you go, suh.”
A long awkward silence filled the room. Avery was exhausted enough he didn’t care, but the Garmons all exchanged unsure glances, except for Uncle himself who just pulled his pants up and ignored everyone else.
“Thanks,” Avery said breathlessly. He gasped, whole body still thrumming with aftershocks of his climax. He gingerly wiped his ass clean. “I’ll be sure to recommend you to my friends.”