MN Manmacker's mansploitation
Rob is ready to buy a car, but the hunky salesman is desperate to get him to yes, which gives Rob the power to demand a taste of his manhood. When the dealership’s burly mechanic joins in, all bets are off, and Rob puts these company reps to the test!
Rob is after a studly ex-con working as a florist, and he nabs him with an offer of money for manmeat. That’s a good trade, made complicated by the arrival of a patronizing customer and by this florist’s intense need to up his asking price. Can Rob meet both his floral needs and satisfy his florist?
Read the whole thing here!
“We close in four minutes, suh,” Thurgood said when Rob walked in to the florist shop.
Rob nodded. “That’s okay. I don’t actually want any flowers right now,” he said. His heart skipped a beat. He had no idea what made him think this would work, but he’d wanted to do it ever since he bought flowers here a few weeks ago. Rob loved flowers and florist shops, but he’d never seen a florist like Thurgood Pugh.
That’s because Thurgood had stacks of muscle with a brusque demeanor and a scruffy face, looking like a muscular goat. He licked his teeth and looked down Rob’s slim twink body. Thurgood had a rough-tinged voice too, a distant-thunder murmur like a car driving very slowly over rumble strips, and his fingers were thick, his hands big and callused like mallets.
“Oh, you got the roses for that wedding?” Thurgood asked. He said it with a twitch in his nose like he wasn’t used to talking politely with men. “How was it?”
“It was wonderful! Thank you!” Rob said. He flashed a limp wrist at Thurgood. Last time he was here, Rob sensed Thurgood checking him out, looking him up and down, and he was confident Thurgood was the kind of alpha male who would stick his dick in a man. He was a ‘a hole’s a hole’ kinda man, and he’d do what was necessary to get his dick wet. He had that swaggerous stance that suggested he got stiffies a lot and needed to bust a nut to get rid of them. Rob licked his lips and touched Thurgood’s muscular arm through his polo shirt. “You were so helpful, oh my god.”
“Good. Whatcha need?” Thurgood took a deep breath. He snorted and rubbed his face. He leaned against the counter, then against the wall behind himself, then he stood up straight.
“Can I ask you a question?”
He sucked on his teeth. “Yeah, fine.”
“I’ll give you a hundred dollars to stick your dick in me,” Rob said. “That’s not technically a question. Will you stick your dick in me for a hundred dollars? There you go.”
“Hmmm… Thought you was thinkin’ sumfin like that. You crazy, man, you crazy. Man…” Thurgood looked away and covered his face for a minute. “No way, suh, not for no amount of money. No way.”
“Oh-“
He furrowed his brow. “Two hunnerd dollars, man. Two hunnerd dollars. I stick ya you so good you won’t eat beef for a week, man, two hunnerd dollars.”
“Oh, well… You said no way… but okay. Yeah. I can do that. Two hundred dollars,” Rob said.
“Wait, uh… Whatchoo want, huh? You can taste my dick. That what you want?”
“Yes, I want to taste your dick, please, sir, Thurgood. Mr. Pugh. But I also want it in the butt…” Rob said with a seductive smile.
“Hmm… Lemme think, boy.” Thurgood’s reaction had gone from no way to hell yeah to maybe. Rob suspected that the answer was yes, but Thurgood thought he could negotiate more money this way. Rob didn’t mind too much — he could afford it, and he wanted to see what he could tease out of Thurgood.
“Why don’t I just start licking? When you’re ready, you can tell me to bend over and spread my cheeks.”
“Hmm…” He grumbled like he didn’t want to do this, but a smile flickered over his face too. Rob came around to the other side of the counter.
“What? Right now?” Thurgood bristled. “The store’s still open, man.”
Rob smiled as he dropped to his knees behind the counter, concealed from anyone who might come in. Rob pulled his head under Thurgood’s apron, then unzipped Thurgood’s khakis, which had a musky unwashed smell even over the floral scent that dominated the florist shop.
His cock popped out. It was thick and veiny and so long it sent an anticipatory thrill up Rob’s spine. That was going to hurt. But he couldn’t wait, Rob loved a challenge. He touched the firm bulge of Thurgood’s cock through his khakis. His hands moved upward, under Thurgood’s polo shirt.
“Yo, whiteman, you doin’ it or what? Huh?” He shouted, his gravelly deep voice a low throaty rumble that made Rob’s throat crave his meat. Rob’s fingers explored his warm stone-like chest until Thurgood swatted his hands away. “Get started, damn…” Rob unzipped Thurgood’s jeans and let his cock come out the fly.
At last, Rob licked Thurgood’s shaft. It twitched beneath his tongue, and the flavor of his coconut-oil-scented skin overwhelmed Rob’s senses. He shivered and ran his tongue up and down the shaft.
“Man, I ain’t closed. Someone could walk in here anytime,” he said.
“Then go lock the door.”
He shrugged. “I don’t wanna lose no customers, man. People sometimes come in the last couple minutes — oh, good evenin’, ma’am,” he said with a forced warble to his voice.
Rob suppressed a laugh at the realization that a customer had indeed come in. Rob couldn’t see from this side of the counter, but he heard her fat-footed steps and her heavy breathing. She sounded like a heavy woman, possibly old.
“Oh, hello…”
“How can I help you today, ma’am?” Thurgood asked. He sounded vaguely flirtatious. Rob wasn’t sure if that was because he flirted with all his female customers, he flirted with this one in particular or because he was just overwhelmed and found it difficult to modulate his demeanor with Rob slurping on his cock under his apron and behind the counter. Thurgood chuckled. “You gettin’ flowers for the beauty contest you just won?”
“Oh, stop, you’re bad, you’re so bad,” she said. Rob could tell that she blushed and also that she didn’t want Thurgood to stop. The customer giggled like a high schooler, though it was clear she was much older than that. “I’m hosting a dinner party for my Purple Hat friends.”
“Sure, sure, of course.” It was clear Thurgood didn’t know what Purple Hat was. His cock stiffened and throbbed in Rob’s mouth. A few drops of precum leaked out.
“And I wanted a table decoration,” she said. “Something understated. Something like this, but more colorful. Maybe that — but that’s awfully large. And it can’t have geraniums in it. My friend Suzie is actually allergic to geraniums, can you believe it?”
“Gerania,” Thurgood said.
“I’m sorry, dear?”
“The plural of geranium. It’s gerania.” Thurgood pounded on the glass counter. It probably looked like he was in pain, but he was just covering up a moan. His cock dripped precum, its salty flavor coating Rob’s tongue.
Rob was pinned between Thurgood and the counter, which was high enough that the woman couldn’t see anything below Thurgood’s chest. Rob probably would have been overwhelmed by hysterical laughter if his mouth weren’t full. He reached around and grabbed Thurgood’s asscheeks, making him yelp and squirm. Thurgood leaned over the counter and smiled at the woman.
“Oh my, are you alright?” she asked.
“Yes, ma’am.” He pointed to something. “I was just… ugh… I was, uh… That’s a very nice bouquet. No gerania.”
“Oh, that is remarkable!” She scurried away from the counter. “That is remarkable, Thurgood. Did you put this together?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You are an artiste, sir,” she said. “I am so happy for you. I think it’s great that your passion for flowers has brought you out of the ghetto.” She smacked her lips. “It just brings a tear to my eyes. Most people think that flower arranging is unimportant. But it matters, it really does. It beautifies our homes, and-“
“Uh-huh.”
“It changes lives. If there were a reality show about florists, Thurgood, you should apply. You would win. You have such a great life story,” she said.
“Yep. Yes, ma’am. Uh-huh,” he said. His knees buckled, and he licked his lips. He laughed, apropos of nothing, shifting his weight between his feet as he covered up his moans of desire. His cock throbbed in Rob’s throat. Thurgood tried to keep his hips still, but his instincts had him grinding his dick on Rob’s tongue, and he kept fidgeting to cover up the motion. The first credit card she gave him was declined.
“Oh is that card not working? My husband, I swear, it’s like he barely even tries to manage the finances. Try this card,” she said as she handed Thurgood her backup credit card.
Thurgood sighed and flared his nostrils. Rob guzzled down precum, making big moisty sounds that Thurgood had to cover up with a coughing fit. Thurgood writhed and ran the second credit card.
“Are you okay tonight, dear? You seem distracted.”
“Uh… Just… Comin’ down wit’ something, I’s afraid, sweetheart,” he said with a sigh. “It’s not serious. Credit card went through, here you go, darling. I hope the hat… I hope the hats, the purple hats… I hope they’re okay. With the flowers. Good flowers. Okay.” He bit his lip and rolled his chest. “Ma’am.”
She clicked her tongue against her teeth. “Oh, you poor dear, you get some sleep tonight. Don’t stay up all night carousing with pretty young girls.”
“Oh, I won’t. I’m… I’m a Christian man, ma’am,” he said. As though to accentuate his point, he grabbed Rob’s forehead and held it in place. Rob guzzled anyway, fighting against Thurgood’s hand to sswallow his cock deeper. Thurgood got two hands on Rob’s head, trying to pull him off, but Rob was stubborn and stayed right where he was, letting Thurgood’s cock rest in his throat. Even as he tried to stop Rob, Thurgood kept humping his dick back and forth in Rob’s mouth, moving his hips in little circles so the woman wouldn’t see.
“That’s wonderful, it really is!” she leaned against the counter and sighed. “I think this country has really moved away from religion in a big way, and that’s not a good thing. I’m not a believer myself, but I think people need that. People need a sense of mystery, and a sense of social obligation, a reason to be part of the community.”
“Yep. Uh-huh.”
“I did… Thurgood, I did want to talk to you about something,” she said. “I hope this doesn’t come across as rude. I’ve just been buying flowers from you for a long time.”
He sighed and muttered, ah, god…, but he just smiled and nodded at her. Rob reached his hand into the fly of Thurgood’s khakis and played with his balls, which were sweaty and heavy, low-hanging, feeling juicy and plump in Rob’s fingers.
“Are you a Democrat?”
“Ain’t allowed to vote, ma’am. Convicted felon,” he said.
“Oh, right, yes. Of course. But you would vote Democrat, is that right?”
“I, uh… I don’t really follow politics. Since I can’t vote…” He spoke through gritted teeth. Surely it was obvious to the woman that he wanted her to leave, Rob thought, but she didn’t let on that she was aware. Rob nuzzled his nose all the way down into Thurgood’s dense nest of pubic hair.
“Sure, that makes sense. But most… African American people nationwide-” she said it like she expected Thurgood to burst into applause for using the politically correct term. “-do vote for Democrats.”
“Yeah, okay.”
“Well I’m part of the city Democratic Party, and we’ve been seeing a decline in voting rates, and I think that means we’re not communicating, you know?” Her voice was bright and sunny. “So we’ve been trying to come up with ways to speak to the African American community. No, I’m sorry, that was offensive. We don’t want to speak to them. We want to speak with them. With you. With people like you. We want to have a dialogue.”
“Uh-huh.”
“So we’re having a dinner next Friday!” She cackled as if that was a punchline but stopped when Thurgood didn’t join in. “And we’re inviting some local businesspeople and religious figures. From churches. Black churches. I mean, African American churches. I mean, churches catering to African American people. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.” She smiled at him. “And, uh, anyway, I wanted to invite you. You’re a local business leader.”
“Yeah.”
“Oh, you’ll come?! Thank you so much, Thurgood! I can’t wait, we’re going to have such a dialogue!”
“Ah…” His mouth twisted into shapes. It was obvious to Rob that he searched for an excuse to say no but didn’t come up with any. All he could think about was his cock spewing precum down Rob’s throat. So he just sighed and said, “Okay…”
“That’s wonderful! I’ll see you then! Thank you!” she said as she walked out the door. When the door swooshed close, Thurgood sighed and looked down at Rob. He opened his mouth to say something angry, but then the door opened. The woman walked back in. “And God bless! Thank you, Thurgood, and God bless you!”
“Uh… Yeah. Good… night.” He scoffed when the door finally shut with her on the other side. He grabbed Rob by the neck and slapped him. “That lady was a Democrat. If she saw you, she’d shit a brick. Ladies like that can’t know about this kinda prison shit.”
“She might be into it,” Rob said, gasping for air. “You should communicate better with her, as a representative of your community-“
“Shut up,” he said. He sniffed. “Now go lock the door.”
“Me-?”
His nostrils flared. He slapped Rob on the cheek with one hand, his cock pulsating on Rob’s face. “I ain’t pullin’ my pants up on ‘ccount of I got a big cock, and it hurts to try to tuck it when it’s hard. And this place got windows, man, I can’t go walkin’ over there.”
Rob nodded and walked over to the door. “So, Thurgood, have you fucked that woman?”
“Hell no. You don’t understand girls. She the kinda fat white chick I don’t fuck. She that other kind,” he said. He lowered his eyes. “The bad kind.”
Rob flicked the lock, and turned the sign over from Open to Closed. “Sorry you have to go to a Democratic Party dinner.” He looked at Thurgood sympathetically. “That sucks.”
“Yeah, I oughta kick yo’ ass, boy, that was fucked up. I couldn’t think of no reason to say no, man. I got a million reasons now. I should’ve told her I gots a court order to stay away from Reverend Chandler. I know he’s who she meant by ‘local religious leaders’.” When Rob returned to the counter, Thurgood scowled and grabbed him by the neck. Thurgood dragged him into the backroom, where there were no windows that could be seen from the street. “I hate how white people like that say ‘African American’.”
“I want to taste your African American cock,” Rob said as he got back to his knees. “Was that better?”
He wrinkled his nose. “Yeah. You do it fine. I bet you don’t say it often though. Do you?”
“No, I just say black people.”
“See?! I gots this theory,” he said as Rob resumed licking his cock, which had only lost a trace of its erection as they shifted rooms. Thurgood cleared his throat. “Outside of the media and shit, the only people who say African American is racist. They’s overcompensatin’. They think black is an insult so they don’t wanna say it. If you ain’t racist, you just say black.”
Rob’s mouth was full, so all he could do was nod and mumble in an agreeable way. It didn’t seem Thurgood really cared what he thought anyway. Thurgood barely paid attention to his own dick. He fumed and humped his shaft down Rob’s throat. When Rob gagged, Thurgood lightly slapped him on the cheek but kept plowing his face. His dick slipped out and rammed all over Rob’s face, but Thurgood didn’t stop pumping his hips back and forth, he just aimed it back for Rob’s mouth.
“Maybe I’ll tell her I got somethin’ black I gotta do that day. What do black people do that she can’t deny? I got… a meeting with the parole officer that day? Nah, that’ll confirm her stereotypin’. I gotta go buy some doo rags?” He chuckled.
Rob had an idea, but he couldn’t say it with his mouth full. He tried to pat Thurgood’s plump asscheeks to signal he needed a break, but Thurgood ignored that signal, treating his face like a pocket pussy. His balls slapped against Rob’s chin.
“Somethin’ ‘bout diabetes? Nah, she fat as shit, I bet she got diabetes too,” he said. He lowered his eyes as he finally realized Rob’s flailing signaled he wanted Thurgood to stop. Thurgood glowered at him. “What? You want a break? You payin’ for it’, man, I oughta charge you extra for breaks. I like plowin’ bitch’s throats. You serious you need a break? Show me on a scale of one to ten how bad you need a break, boy. Just stick up fingers.”
Rob’s face was bright red. He didn’t even really want a break, he just had an idea to tell Thurgood. So he only held up two fingers.
“Two? You don’t need a break then. You tell me when you really need it, boy,” he said. He shook his head. “Don’t be tellin’ yo’ nigga to stop ‘nless you really need it, that ain’t right. Ain’t respec’ful.” He paused. “We ain’t nevuh finalize no price for that butt nonsense, boy. I’ll stick it in you for five hunnerd.”
Rob’s throat closed up around Thurgood’s throat. He clawed at his body as his lungs cried out for air. He knocked a vase off the counter, but Thurgood caught it with lightning-fast reflexed. Some of the flowers — a bunch of pale irises — landed on the floor. Thurgood ignored them.
“Hold up yo’ right hand if five hunnerd is alright. That’ll be seven hunnerd total,” Thurgood said. “Hold up yo’ left hand if you sayin’ no.”
Rob held up his right hand.
“Good.” Thurgood stood there with his hands on his hips, watching Rob squirm. He didn’t hump anymore, he just stood still with his cock being rubbed and caressed by Rob’s sputtering throat. Great gobs of saliva escaped out of Rob’s choking mouth, soaking into Thurgood’s khakis.
“Bend over and grab your ankles. Don’t cry about the position, that’s the only way I do it with a man,” Thurgood said.
He finally pulled away from Rob’s mouth, allowing Rob to gasp for air. Rob staggered away from the wall. He was overwhelmed by dizziness as he gulped down air. Thurgood roughly dragged him to the center of the room, surrounded by buckets full of potted roses. He snarled at Rob.
“I say bend over, boy!” He smacked Rob’s asscheek hard. “You want a nigga to stick you? You gonna get hard, and you gonna get it rough. That ain’t easy. You might not like it. But you ain’t pay me to make you like it.”
Rob knew he would like it, but he was still apprehensive. Thurgood’s cock was huge, after all. He bent over and grabbed his ankles. It was an awkward position for him, but Rob didn’t mind it — part of the joy was getting it from unusual angles, from unusual people, in unusual situations.
“I had an idea,” Rob said. He was still gasping for air, tendrils of spit and precum clinging to his lips. “That was what I wanted to say. She’d love it if you were doing something Democrats like. So tell her you had to drive to some other city because you bought a black barbershop, and there was some problem you had to fix. Tell her some employee was selling drugs out of it, so you went over there to beat him up and tell the police. She’ll think you’re the greatest African American ever.”
He stopped with his cock right at the tip to Rob’s asshole. He grunted. “Yeah. That’s good. Okay.” He chuckled and slipped a few more inches in. “Good idea, whiteboy. When I call her, I’ll be on the road, man, I’ll call her last minute.” He groaned with his dick almost all the way in Rob, then mockingly imitated his own voice on the phone with her. ‘Yo, girl, I can’t come to yo’ dinner tonight on ‘ccount of I gotta go rip this nigga’s head off fo’ sellin’ crack outta my store. I don’t even care ‘bout getting locked up again, I ain’t got my religion no mo’, I just wanna make this nigga dead for disrespectin’ me!’ She gonna freak the fuck out and talk me outta killin’ that nigga. I tell her I go sleep in a church somewhere to recover my faith. I thank her for savin’ my soul. Then I don’t gotta go talk to a bunch of Democrats and Rev’rnd Chandler. Fuck him, he do anything for a pancake dinner, man, I swear to God. Devil can tempt him easy: high yellow girl wit’ pancakes. He sin every which way for a high yellow girl with a plate of pancakes.”
Just like before, Thurgood seemed distracted. He complained about Reverend Chandler as he slammed his dick in Rob’s hard. His cock slammed all the way in, tickling Rob’s innards and sending shards of pleasure through his body. Thurgood may not have noticed that he didn’t prepare Rob’s ass in any way.
“I bet that’s the only reason he comin’. There gonna be at least one high yellow girl there. Pancakes prolly not, but somethin’ carby, that’s for sure. Whatever it is, you could squish it down on ya plate till it’s flat.”
“Uh-huh.” Tears welled up in Rob’s eyes, the pressure in his ass was so intense he thought he was falling apart. It was too difficult to jack off with his hands around his ankles and his ass in the air, so his own cock just throbbed between his legs. When he let go of his ankles once to touch himself, Thurgood just smacked him in the back of the head.
“Nah, boy. You pay extra if you wanna jack off while I stick ya,” he said. “I like it like this.” He paused. “You wanna pay extra? For five hundred dollars, you can jack off. For another five hundred dollars, I kiss ya while we both cum. You want that?”
“Hell yeah! I’ll do it! Please! Do it, Thurgood!” Rob knew he was being cheated — Thurgood must have decided Rob could afford to pay more, which was accurate, and he was cheating Rob into agreeing to it.
“I like hearin’ you beg, boy,” he said. He grabbed Rob’s head by his hair, and he took them both down to the ground. Thurgood dropped, but it was a controlled fall like he had done this many times before. Rob’s heart leapt into his chest because it felt like he was falling, but he ended up landing on his stomach.
Thurgood was atop his back, pressing down with all his weight. He slammed Rob’s face into the floor — not a painful attack, just a grinding push onto the tiled floor. He swayed his hips from side to side as his balls crawled up in his sac.
“Look at me, boy,” he said with a growl. Rob turned his head to the side. Thurgood kissed him on the lips. It was a very awkward, sideways kiss because Rob’s head was shoved into the floor. Moments later, however, Thurgood rolled over.
Rob screamed in pain and pleasure. He sat on Thurgood’s cock, all twelve inches of which pulsated in his ass. He could feel Thurgood’s orgasm growing. Rob laid back onto Thurgood’s chest, exulting in the feel of his prison-starved muscles flexing against Rob’s smooth skin.
From this angle, Rob could kiss Thurgood more effectively. He sucked on his lip and stuck his tongue in Thurgood’s mouth. Thurgood kissed him back passionately, slathering spit over Rob’s tongue as he ground his cock in Rob’s ass.
They both came at the same time. Almost as soon as Rob felt the first burst of cum in his ass, his own cock throbbed in his fingers and his wad spurted out. It sprayed over Thurgood’s chest and shoulders.
Pure liquid bliss flowed through Rob’s veins. He gasped and gulped down air, savoring the taste of Thurgood’s sweaty body and hot breath. He licked Thurgood’s grizzled chin and neck, prompting a grimace from Thurgood as he filled up Rob’s ass.
He shot a huge load. It just kept on flowing, even after Rob had emptied his own balls over Thurgood’s pecs and shoulders. Thurgood kept on groaning into Rob’s his ear, licking his cheek and spurting jet after jet of creamy hot cum into him.
Finally he was done, but Thurgood didn’t stop. He wrapped both arms and legs around Rob’s body to hold him in position. He pistoned his hips to keep his limpening dick inside, until his massive wad turned into a big frothy mess that leaked down his shaft into Thurgood’s bushy crotch.
Thurgood groaned and fell limp. His cock was still hard, but the rest of his body was soft like half-melted chocolate. Rob loved that feeling. He rolled his head over to lick Thurgood’s neck, then down to his sweaty chest. Rob licked every drop of salty sweat off, while he watched cum drip out of his ass.
“Alright, you got yo’ money’s worth,” he said. He didn’t physically force Rob off him though. He just held his hands above Rob’s head and watched him lick.
Rob pulled away. He stood and stretched his sore legs. Thurgood remained there on the floor, khakis around his ankles, apron and shirt pulled up and over his jizz-splattered chest. After a minute or two, he finally got up and wiped his chest off.
“Thanks,” Rob said as he wrote out a check. He laid it on the table surrounded by gerania.
“Lemme see that,” Thurgood said with a growl. Rob handed him the check and he hobbled to his feet. Pants still around his ankles, he went to a check-reading machine. “Don’t go nowhere. I wanna make sure this is a valid check.”
“Sure. I’m just gonna lick your ass a bit,” Rob said. He dropped to his knees and licked Thurgood’s smooth plump asscheek.
Thurgood growled. He shifted his weight between his feet as though he expected a show of hostility to scare Rob off. That was probably a good bet most of the time — Thurgood was large, muscular and scary, while Rob was thin, delicate and weak. But Rob knew how to handle men like him. So he just licked all of his ass-sweat off his butt. From the way his back shuddered, it was clear Thurgood liked the attention.
He grumbled as he cursed the check-reading machine for taking so long. He sighed and clicked his tongue against his teeth. Finally he clapped. “Alright, it’s done. You fine. Get outta here, freak.”
Rob nodded and stood up. He put his clothes back on, using Thurgood’s body for support as he got his pants on. Thurgood snorted and rolled his eyes, but he allowed it.
Then Rob kissed Thurgood once more on the lips. Again, Thurgood bristled and grumbled, but he didn’t make Rob stop. He narrowed his eyes to slits.
“Thanks, Thurgood. You’re a great florist, a real artiste, a rose sprouting from concrete. Do you wanna be a Democrat?” Rob said, giggling.
“Just get out.”
Desmond is a trustee at the local police station, and that means he gets his pick of alpha-male cop meat… except for the studly Officer Savillano.
Until one day Savillano himself arranges a meetup. His wife is sick, and he is desperate to get a load off, which Desmond is all too happy to help with!
Can Officer Salazar Savillano find the sweet release he craves?!
Read the whole thing here!
The storage closet was dim and dark. Desmond Talley hurried in, then tried to switch the light on. The door shut as he flicked the switch. The light didn’t turn on. The closet remained pitch-black.
“Damn it,” he muttered to himself. “Nothing in this place works right.” He grabbed for the doorknob to reopen the door — just enough to get some light in so he could see.
But the door swung open before he could, and Officer Savillano walked in, quickly, quietly shutting the door behind himself as though he didn’t want anyone to see him come in here. Desmond caught a whiff of his cologne, which was potent and spicy, warm, musky, pungent, like the jockstrap of a very clean Chinese sailor.
Desmond had been in the jailhouse at Precinct 17 for a couple weeks, and he’d found it mind-crushingly dull. He had always greatly admired the male form, and he thought the one bright spot of going to prison was that the men would have marvelous physiques. That might be true in prison — Desmond hadn’t gone yet — but in a jail, it seemed, like the jailhouse here, the average inmate was sixty-four, sickly, fat and possessing a cock like a mosquito bite. Desmond was not into it. The one genuinely handsome guy he got to share a cell with at all was a male stripper (a bit of a prettyboy, but Desmond wasn’t going to complain) who was also literally piss-drunk. Desmond wasn’t into molesting unconscious prettyboys who stank of urine.
But the one bright spot was Officer Salazar Savillano.
That’s because Savillano was a thick-limbed amateur bodybuilder, with a craggy face, square jaw and an intense, stawk-laden accent like a Bronx cabbie. He was short, about Desmond’s height, and he carried around his muscles like he stole them from a much taller man. He had a harsh voice like he gargled with cigarette butts, which made the other cops call him a goblin.
“Yo, hey man, hey,” Officer Savillano said, whispering, his double-barreled voice resonating in the tiny closet, into which he followed Desmond.
The jailhouse was quiet because it was night-time in the middle of the week, no crowds of revelers in the drunk tank, no convention at the hotel filling up with desperate men and desperate hos, no holidays right now to drink at then drive home. It promised to be a night of quiet dullness at Precinct 17.
Except for this one dalliance in the closet, wherein Desmond got so close to Savillano he could smell both his cologne and the medical-grade deodorant he wore underneath it.
Savillano was the only officer on duty right now, though the kitchen crew was in the other room cleaning up for the night. Desmond wasn’t in his cell because he was a prefect now, which meant he was allowed out to work in the jailhouse. He mopped floors and did whatever other tasks the cops asked.
Sometimes that included jerking them off, when their no-doubt bitchy wives refused to put out. Sheriff Torkelson told Desmond he could say no any time he wanted, but Desmond had a thing for cops, and he hadn’t yet met one he would turn down. Savillano never asked though.
It was Officer Savillano who had asked him to come into this walk-in closet to get a box of breathalyzer tubes. As always, when that gravel-coated voice filled Desmond’s ears, Desmond felt a surge of adrenaline and shivered in the wake of his body heat. His uniform shirt was partially unbuttoned now, revealing his hairy chest. One pearly drop of sweat plopped off his heavy cavemanish brow onto Desmond’s nose, making him shimmy and lick his lips. The salty flavor flooded his senses.
“Yo, hey,” Officer Savillano said. His gravelly voice wavered, and it filled the air like a steam cloud, echoing in the walk-in closet. He pursed his lips and let out a little grumble like there were other things he wanted to say but hadn’t yet come up with the words to say them.
“Hey. The light isn’t working. I think the breathalyzer tubes are over here. But the lightbulb doesn’t work, I keep telling Jefferson he needs to get more lightbulbs, he’s such a retard. If you just open the door a crack-” Desmond blushed, not that anyone could see it. It was obvious Officer Savillano wanted to talk to him, probably to ask if Desmond knew who was smuggling weed into the jail. Desmond did know, but he wasn’t about to say.
His hands clutched Savillano around the waist, which Officer Savillano didn’t stop or even respond to. Desmond liked the thickness of his meaty frame, and his muscles flexed under Desmond’s touch.
Trustees weren’t allowed to touch cops, and cops couldn’t touch trustees except by following the Five Pillars of Compliance. Desmond had seen the training video, and he’d watched the cops sign off on it without watching the video. Desmond couldn’t blame them for not watching it, but the rank hypocrisy did annoy him. Desmond had had to watch the same video, so that he would know how to comply, using the Five Pillars of Compliance.
So far, not a single Pillar had been used.
“I know it don’t work. The light ain’t workin’ cuz I took the bulb out,” Savillano said. He paused. “I threw it away. I’ll tell Jefferson to put in the order. But shush up.” He wrapped his powerful arms around Desmond, whose heart fluttered, then Savillano picked him up to switch positions with him. That placed Desmond right next to the door.
“Oh. Savillano…” Desmond was confused, a bit scared, and a whole lot aroused. Savillano’s warmth and the musk of his cologne swarmed and swirled around him, and Desmond got dizzy in his thick-bodied presence.
“I put ya next to the door, on account of so you can leave,” Savillano said, aiming his voice right at the back of Desmond’s neck, where his breath condensed moistly. He whispered, but he had such a deep, potent voice that it wasn’t very quiet. No one was around anyway — it was after five, so all the cops save Savillano were gone. There were only four inmates in the jail census, so there was only a need for one officer at night.
“Oh…” Desmond’s dick rocketed to attention. He was already imagining getting rammed by Savillano’s hopefully fat cock, but the intellectual part of his mind assumed that wasn’t it. Savillano presumably had something else to ask. Desmond was just too horny to think of any other reason to go through all this.
“So… I ain’t like… a bad guy or nothin’,” Officer Savillano said. He talked a lot of shit about his prowess with women, he was always bragging about it. Desmond didn’t believe a word of it. Savillano was married, and he didn’t cheat. Desmond would put money on it. Savillano liked to front, but he wasn’t the kind of man women lust for. He wasn’t charming, rich or even tall.
“Oh. Okay…”
“I mean… Look, man… Y’know ‘bout my wife?”
“No.”
“Ain’t Thorne tell you?”
“No.”
“Oh. She got cancer, man. She-“
“Oh, wow, I’m sorry, man, that sucks…”
“Yeah. She got bone cancer, she gonna be dead soon.”
“Damn…” This dark-closet encounter was becoming more morose than arousing, Desmond thought. But he caught another whiff of Officer Savillano’s natural musk beneath his cologne, and Desmond had to suppress an embarrassing moan.
“Yeah, look, man… You can say no. Forgett’boutit, yu know. It ain’t a big deal. I got, y’know… I can do… othuh shit… I just was, yu know, like, whatevuh…” He snorted and wiped more sweat off his square-jawed face with one hand. “Look, dawg, man, like… I been, yu know… You cool, right?”
Desmond nodded, too nervous to say anything. Then he remembered he was in the dark, so he had to say yes out loud. Before he could, Officer Savillano just kept talking as though he had said it anyway.
“Well… I mean… Ain’t no big deal, but yu know, I seen you lookin’ at me, and shit, and Thorne told me you-” He paused, and Desmond didn’t need to see his face to know he was blushing. Savillano chuckled throatily. “He say you told him you’d eat beef stew outta my ass.”
Desmond giggled. “He told you that?”
“Yeah, I mean, whatevuh, but, yu know… I don’t want that. Not that. That’s weird. And gross. And dirty. And-“
“It was just a joke. I wouldn’t really eat beef stew out of your ass. I’m not sure it’s possible. Maybe like some pad thai.”
“Uh-huh. Well, yu know… Just…”
“What’s wrong, Savillano? Just say it. If you don’t want me to check out your ass all the time, just say so. And, y’know, get an uglier ass, or at least looser-fitting uniform pants. I like muscular thighs, and I can not lie.” Desmond was embarrassed now that he assumed he was in trouble for looking at Savillano’s ass. Could I be arrested over that? He didn’t think so.
“Can I ram you?!” he blurted out.
“What?”
Savillano murmured to himself. “Look, man, you can say no. I ain’t comin’ to you as an officer of the law. You gettin’ outta here in two weeks, ain’t nothin’ I could do about that even if I wanted to, which I don’t. You ain’t gonna be in trouble or nothin’, you can say no.”
“Okay…”
“But, yu know… If you wanted… I’s…” He grabbed his crotch, which Desmond couldn’t see but did sense in the darkness. “I could do, like… I just… Yu know…”
“Oh, you can’t screw your wife anymore, I see…” Desmond said with a sympathetic cluck of his tongue. “Of course, sweetie.” He touched Savillano’s belly. He was a weightlifter, so he had a strong, no-fat belly, but it wasn’t flat either, he was muscular enough that his belly protruded a bit. His muscles all twitched and rippled as soon as Desmond touched him through his uniform shirt, like he had been waiting a long time to be touched.
“Ah, shit, okay, thanks, thanks a lot… You can make me stop or slow down or whatever. Just say it, no problem,” Savillano said. He cleared his throat. “It ain’t even like I can’t, yu know, mess around wit’ a girlie. I got females all over, y’know, they want me, they be sayin’ I should calls ‘em up as soon as… Yu know, if I evuh wanna play around, ya feel me? But I ain’t gonna cheat on my wife on her deathbed. That ain’t right.” He sighed a long chambersome sigh of relief. “Alright, man. Here.” He had a bag with him, or maybe he had placed it in the closet in preparation for this encounter.
Desmond had been daydreaming about this for so long he went right to massaging Savillano’s biceps, making it hard for him to take things out of the plastic bag in his hands. Then Desmond wrinkled his nose as Savillano sprayed him with perfume. His muscles flexed beneath Desmond’s touch.
“There, that’s her perfume. Put this on,” Savillano said. He put a wig on Desmond. It was a long, feminine wig — blonde? Desmond couldn’t tell because it was too dark, but he thought maybe blond; Officer Savillano seemed like the type to date a blonde, or more likely an Italian raven with dyed blonde hair.
Savillano sniffed deep of Desmond’s scent, his big, ungainly nose coming so close it glancingly touched Desmond’s neck. Whatever he smelled there must been enticing, because Savillano moaned, and his thick-fingered, callused hands wrapped around Desmond’s waist. Desmond wasn’t allowed cologne in his cell, so he just smelled like soap and deodorant, hopefully. He did buy the soap that smelled like mango though.
“Girl, you smell good enough to eat…” Savillano said with a menacing rumble, sounding like that was how he initiated sex with his wife. Desmond shivered and let out a girlish giggle. He placed both hands on Savillano’s broad shoulders, then slowly helped him shrug off his uniform shirt. He leaned in and jerked a few droplets of sweat off Officer Savillano’s hairy chest, on the rim of his sweat-suffused wifebeater.
It was unwashed, Desmond realized. The undershirt. The uniform shirt was dry-cleaned, but Savillano wasn’t washing his clothes. Or rather, Mrs. Savillano wasn’t. That made Desmond again cluck his tongue sympathetically, though he didn’t say why. Maybe Officer Savillano realized it. In any case, a chamberous moan escaped from his chest as Desmond spat up and down the width and breadth of his powerful torso.
As Desmond removed his shirt, Savillano explored Desmond’s body with his hands. He knew he wasn’t with his wife, of course, but Desmond looked similar to her; he was the right height and size, and he even had a similar personality. Savillano felt his waist and his smooth thighs as he took Desmond’s pants down. He kept his hands away from Desmond’s crotch and chest, not wanting to shatter his own illusion. Desmond smelled so much like her that Savillano could picture her as she had been back when she was well.
She had told him to sleep with other women. When she went into the hospital last month — and it was pretty obvious, no matter what the doctors said, that she wouldn’t ever leave — she had told Savillano to find someone else, not to even wait for her to pass away. Savillano had refused, of course.
But the more he heard the sound of Desmond’s effeminate panting just like his wife made when they shared the marital bed, the more Savillano knew he had to do it. The fact that Desmond was a man made it easier — physically more difficult, but emotionally easier because it wasn’t cheating. Savillano remained fiercely devoted to his wife and would never cheat on her.
When she died though… he didn’t want to think about that until it happened. Dating was going to be difficult. He hadn’t been on a date in twenty years.
Desmond dropped to his knees to handle Savillano’s cock, but much to his surprise, Savillano caught him. He wrapped his muscular arms around Desmond once more. Desmond gripped Savillano’s corded-muscle forearm while Savillano swooped down and kissed him on the lips.
He moaned into Desmond’s mouth. Desmond never thought an alpha male like Officer Savillano would agree to kiss him, so he was momentarily disconcerted. Then he kissed him back, and Savillano’s tongue plunged into his mouth.
Desmond wrapped his arms around Savillano’s broad shoulders, then jumped up and gripped his thick torso with his legs. “You’re so strong, sweetie-“
“Call me big boy,” Savillano said breathlessly, before resuming his shower of kisses..
“Ooh, I love your muscles, big boy,” Desmond said. He kissed Savillano on the neck while he unbuttoned his uniform shirt. “I bet you’ve been struggling with overflowing balls for a long time, huh?” He reached down and teasingly touched his cock through his uniform slacks with one hand, the other one massaging the hump of his toned biceps. “You’re so strong…”
“I need you…” He sounded like he was near tears. He kissed Desmond again, his tongue exploring Desmond’s mouth. He was firm and forceful, but gentle, his muscles hard as iron beneath Desmond’s touch. Desmond swooned, dizzy with desire, glad he could support himself on Officer Savillano’s sturdy body.
He put Desmond down, then took his shirt off while Desmond dropped back to his knees. Desmond flopped his cock out through the fly of his slacks. He was already half-hard, and Desmond kissed him right on the cocktip.
“Ooh, big boy, I can’t wait to taste your dick in my throat. Can I deep-throat you? Please?”
“Course, baby…” He pursed his lips. He moaned as Desmond flopped his cock over his face, and Desmond teased his tongue along the underside of his veiny shaft. “C’mon, baby, make it wet…”
Desmond knew he was good at getting a man off. He could get any man off in minutes if he wanted to, which he did not. He swallowed his cock down to the root right away, making Officer Savillano’s whole huge body shudder and grunt.
He had a big dick. Desmond was glad because a lot of bodybuilder-types didn’t. They either started working out because they were self-conscious about their small cocks or else their dicks got smaller due to steroid use. But not Savillano. His muscles were entirely natural, his frame naturally hefty and inclined towards fatness — he prevented that by working out every day, jogging and lifting weights for hours. That was how he had met his wife, she was a personal trainer at his gym.
His dick was rock-hard now, throbbing in Desmond’s mouth. He gripped Desmond’s head and pushed his dick in and out of Desmond’s throat. It was a throating — which Desmond loved — but it was different, more affectionate than Desmond had expected. He would have assumed Savillano wanted aggressive, even violent head, but in fact he made sweet love to Desmond’s mouth.
He swayed his hips, clucking his tongue as he worked his dick in. Desmond focused on nothing but keeping his mouth wide open, letting his nose nuzzle into Officer Savillano’s wiry pubic hair. He experienced a flood of desire every time he felt Savillano’s cock pulsate in his throat, leaking torrent after torrent of salty precum down Desmond’s gullet. The taste was so bright and sunny, so thick and creamy, Desmond could tell Savillano had been starved of a woman’s touch for a long time.
“Oh, god, babe, you got such a nice mouth, babe, damn…” Savillano said. He clucked his tongue like he was being seductive and flirty with a girl.
Desmond gently massaged his balls. He figured this was one thing Savillano’s wife probably never did right — girls couldn’t do it so well because they didn’t have balls. Desmond knew how to make it feel good.
Sure enough, it made Savillano’s whole body shake. He grunted, and his muscles all tensed. He could have shot his load right then, but he didn’t. He pulled out of Desmond’s mouth, and his knob jabbed around on Desmond’s face. He chased it with his tongue.
“Lemme in ya ass, babe, okay?”
“Sure-“
“C’mon, I’ll be so gentle… It won’t be like last time, baby, I’ll go real slow and nice-like…” He bent down and kissed Desmond on the forehead. He cooed and moaned like he needed to seduce Desmond into doing it.
“You don’t have to be gentle-“
“Shush.” Savillano’s seductive voice was gone. “Don’t talk like a slut, man.”
“Oh, sorry.” Desmond had to put himself in the mindset of a woman. “I don’t know, big boy, what if it hurts? You could tear my ass up…”
“I won’t… I’ll make you feel so good, babe.” He kissed Desmond on the lips, seemingly uncaring of the taste of his own cock there. His tongue again explored Desmond’s mouth. Desmond wrapped his arms around those broad shoulders, and mounted his chest with his arms and legs. Officer Savillano held him aloft.
Desmond stood and gripped the shelves on the side of the closet. He stuck his ass out. The fact that it was dark in here helped it go more smoothly — Officer Savillano assumed that whatever Desmond was doing in the dark was what his ex-wife would have been doing, that Desmond was shimmying like she used to and moaning for more like she did. He grunted affirmatively like Desmond was doing it right, even though all Desmond did was turn around and grip the shelves.
His hairy chest pressed against Desmond’s back, his pants around his ankles. He squeezed his dick between Desmond’s cheeks. It was hot and thick and moist and throbbing like it was its own living being, and it was so fat it didn’t even fit between Desmond’s buttcheeks much less in his hole.
“Stick it in me, big boy…” Desmond said. He opened his ass the best he could. “C’mon, I need your cock, big boy…”
“I love you.” He grunted and slammed his dick in. A part of his mind was embarrassed because he hadn’t meant to say that, but it was overcome by the part of his mind that just wanted to ram Desmond’s tight hole. All he cared about in that moment was getting his dick in there.
Pain erupted in Desmond’s ass. He moaned, his whole body tensing at first. The agony lasted only a few seconds, however, before it melted away, replaced by an intense, overwhelming pleasure. His moan turned into a closet-shaking cringe of desire.
“Shush, it’s okay, baby, I love you, I love you, I’ll never hurt you…” Officer Savillano said. He again sounded like he was on the verge of tears, and he kissed the back of Desmond’s head. “Here, baby, you can bite me.” He wrapped one arm in front of Desmond’s face, giving Desmond perfect access to bite on the muscle of his forearm.
Desmond didn’t want to bite down though. He just nuzzled it, licking and jerking all the sweat off the surface of Savillano’s forearm. The sensations in his ass grew as Savillano worked his dick in deeper and deeper.
“Oh god, yes, ram me, big boy, ram me harder!”
Savillano grunted and grinned. “Hell yeah I will. You ready?”
“Yes!”
“Shush, don’t be so loud. Them kitchen folks could hear,” Savillano said. He kissed Desmond on the cheek and slammed his dick in. He pulled it out, grimacing and shushing Desmond as he did, then pistoned his powerful hips again.
Desmond slammed against the shelves, which shook, making more noise than Desmond ever had. But Officer Savillano didn’t seem to notice. He rammed harder and harder, grunting more with each thrust of his hips.
Wrapping his hand around his own dick, Desmond reached orgasm as Savillano’s cock rammed into his prostate over and over. The waves of pleasure wracking his body made Desmond tremble like the shelves. Beneath the bliss was just a little pain, enough to make the pleasure even more intense.
But it was also enough to make it difficult for Desmond to stay still. He danced between his feet while he sprayed his load over the shelves. Savillano lifted him up as he rammed, picking Desmond off the floor, just a foot or so, enough to give Savillano complete control over his ass.
“Oh god, yes, do it to me, big boy!” Desmond couldn’t control himself anymore. He was off the floor now, supported entirely by Savillano’s muscles and his manhood. Desmond’s bright red face gasped as the most incredible orgasm of his life hit him hard. Officer Savillano kissed him again as he too climaxed, groaning, moaning into Desmond’s waiting mouth.
Cum flowed into his ass. It had been months since Savillano rammed — he hadn’t gone more than a week or two without sex since high school, so he shot a massive load. It kept coming, filling Desmond up and seeping into his flesh.
Since Desmond wasn’t supporting himself, all of that cum slipped right back out, making a big frothy mess as Savillano kept gyrating. Even as his cock limpened inside Desmond’s ass, Savillano continuing humping, groaning and grimacing as he did. He nibbled on Desmond’s nape, while his callused hands roamed over Desmond’s chest and belly. He even glancingly touched the sensitive tip of Desmond’s cock, reawakening Desmond’s orgasmic shudders and moans of delight.
“Ah, baby, yeah… take it…” He bit his lip. He kept on grinding his dick within Desmond’s ass, while spasms of post-orgasmic pleasure ran up his spine. He made a big frothy mess of all that cum, which bubbled out and soaked into his slacks.
“Shit…”
“Damn, you okay?” Officer Savillano grunted. He was exhausted, disappointed that it was over — he had an instinctual and emotional urge to take Desmond out with him to go on a date, take him to a movie and a fancy restaurant, then ram him again in a cheap motel room.
But he couldn’t do that. Of course.
“I’m perfect….” Desmond moaned. The pressure in his ass was too intense to say anything else.
Then Officer Savillano pulled his cock out. “So… like… we still cool, right? You was like… into that?”
“So into it.”
“Good. Maybe, y’know… Maybe…” Officer Savillano was nervous like a schoolboy. “Maybe, like, we could… you know…”
“Do it again?”
“If you want!”
“You just let me know when, baby.” Desmond said breathlessly. He pulled his own pants up.
Officer Savillano was about to do the same, then realized that all of his cum had spilled onto the pants and underwear that were around his ankles. He groaned. “Oh. Can you go to my locker and get my spare pants?”
“Sure, baby.” Desmond paused. He opened the door to leave, but then didn’t go just yet. “Can I kiss you again?”
Savillano paused and sighed. There was light in the closet now, which made it more difficult to pretend he was kissing his wife. He hadn’t intended to kiss Desmond at all, and he certainly hadn’t intended to say he loved him.
But he didn’t want to be a jerk, and he didn’t mind the kiss earlier. He could just close his eyes. So he planted his lips right on Desmond’s, and their tongues interlocked. Desmond squealed and jumped up, wrapping his legs around Savillano’s bare chest again. His skin was slick with sweat.
Finally Desmond pulled away. “Thanks, big boy. I’ll be right back with clothes for you.”
Rob thought he was in for a boring day when he runs into a studly young black man in a warehouse. He needs money for court fees, and Rob needs his throbbing fat meat! Can they reach a mutually agreeable deal?
Read the whole thing here!
Rob Winthrop was bored. He felt like crying as he sat there and endured the world’s most hideous presentation. It was so boring it hurt. He couldn’t even think of anything exciting to do, like this presentation was so boring it made other things less exciting through contagion, like it crowded out the part of Rob’s brain that could experience excitement.
What was an exciting thing? Planes… Explosions… Movies? The only movie Rob could remember was Nanook of the North, which he had watched in film class. And that Andy Warhol movie that was just a twelve-hour video of a skyscraper.
Excitement was a real thing, wasn’t it? Rob felt like prying his eyelids off.
It was a presentation about the relative popularity of the costs of implementing various water purification strategies in certain parts of rural Colorado. The presenter was a dour-faced black woman who was probably chosen as a presenter because she was beautiful and they thought Rob would be interested.
Rob didn’t care about her. He only came here because he wanted to humiliate his father yet again. But there were no good opportunities. He could just rip all his clothes off in the middle of the meeting — that would certainly add some excitement — but he’d done that before. People just assumed he had a psychotic break or an alcohol problem, something like that. Rob was a billionaire’s son, so everyone found it easy to believe there was something wrong with him.
No, if he was going to humiliate his father today, it would have to be something else. His father periodically set him up with companies to manage, in hopes of pushing him towards a more responsible future.
But Rob hated his father with a fiery passion, so he always ran those companies into the ground (or just ignored them). Toqay he was in Colorado, taking control of a county government services company. Rob was supposed to help them expand into state and federal government contracts. It was the single most boring goal anybody has ever had.
A woman came into the meeting. She meekly apologized for interrupting it. She needed the CEO, to sign something, which he did with a scowl like he was annoyed, not at being interrupted, but at the thing he needed to sign.
“Another one? Tell him to keep it in his pants, for Ch-f-sh…” It sounded like he was going to say for Christ’s sake, then for fuck’s sake, then for shit’s shake but didn’t want to curse because Rob was here, so he just stammered and said nothing. “He’s going to be a slave sooner or later.”
Then he suddenly blushed intensely. He coughed like he hadn’t meant to say that. He glanced at the presenter, the only black person in the room. She was on the other side of the conference table so it didn’t seem that she heard what he said.
Rob’s eyes opened. This, he thought, was a thing. He didn’t know what, but there was clearly something happening here.
He excused himself and made his way out after the woman, who hurried towards the door marked Human Resources at the end of the hall. She glanced at Rob. “The bathrooms are down that way, sir-“
“That’s not why I came out,” Rob said. He glanced at the clipboard. “Is that…?”
The human resources lady did not know that Rob was not a businessman. She assumed he was given this company because he wanted to and knew how to run it. So she assumed that he asked to see the paperwork because it was relevant to his business, which indeed it was. That simply wasn’t why Rob wanted to see it.
It was a court order, demanding that the company garnish the wages of Jaekwan Malcolm Brown. One hundred and seventy-eight dollars were to be taken from his paychecks and sent to a child-support-payments processing company.
“It’s just a garnishment order, sir,” she said. She blushed. “It’s okay, we know how to do it. Mr. Brown has… other garnishments on his file.”
Rob made a serious face like his father would have. “Well, ma’am,” he said, “I’m going to have to investigate this. Where do I find Mr. Brown?”
“He works in the warehouse,” she said. She watched him walk away like she was nervous, like she was supposed to stop him — which was technically true, since human resources matters were supposed to be confidential. But Rob didn’t care. The more rules he broke, the more embarrassed his father would be, and then Rob wouldn’t have to run any more companies into the ground for awhile.
He went down to the warehouse on the first floor. About twenty guys worked there shipping and receiving supplies. A huge part of the warehouse was filled with blue recycling bins.
The warehouse guys didn’t know who Rob was, and he didn’t really carry himself like an executive, so they didn’t react to him. He asked where Jaekwan was and they said only that he was around here somewhere.
Rob eventually found him among the stacks of blue recycling bins. He didn’t know that’s who it was at first. That’s because he didn’t see him right away. He heard him first.
It sounded like someone trying to lift something heavy. There was the sound of a woman there too. Rob smiled when he realized it was the sound of sex.
It was him. Jaekwan wore the blue pants and polo shirt of the warehouse workers, but he had pulled the pants down and lifted the shirt over his head. He had a tight grip on a thick woman’s hair as he pounded into her.
She was the married receptionist at the pool services company next door. She was thick and not especially attractive.
Jaekwan, however, was perfect. He was young and tall and ropy-muscled, not exactly thick but not skinny by any means. He had cornrows and deep, dark skin inked with blueish tattoos. His face was noble and square and big and expressive, and Rob wanted to gaze into his eyes. He wasn’t sexy or even really handsome, or at least not especially handsome, but he had swagger to spare, and Rob was sure Jaekwon could get any woman he wanted. Presumably that was exactly what he did, hence the garnishments on his paychecks. He let out a growl as he filled the woman’s pussy with his seed. Rob watched cum drip down onto the floor.
“Damn, girl, you treat me right,” he said. He grinned, showing off his deep dimples. His massive dick flopped out of her body limply. She blushed and whispered something to him. Jaekwan bent over and kissed her on the forehead. “Nah, baby, I can’t kiss you on the lips. You sucked my dick earlier. That’s nasty.”
“Jaekwan! I’m leaving my husband for you!” She looked down at her feet as she pulled her panties up.
“Don’t. I tol’ you not to, baby,” he said. He already had his phone out and was texting someone, his pants still around his ankles, fat cock bobbing around and dripping a few remnants of cum and pussyjuice onto the warehouse floor.
“Come on…”
“No.” He pulled his pants up and scowled at her. “That ain’t the kinda nigga I am. You best get back to yo’ office, baby.” He walked away with a noticeable pimp lean. He didn’t pull his shirt back down, so his sweat-dappled chest was bare. Rob had a feeling he did that because it would imply to his fellow workers that he had had sex among the stacks of recycling bins.
Sure enough, he heard their deep-throated greetings, slapping hands and macho boasting. It all erupted at once so he couldn’t hear exactly what was said, but the meaning was clear. They must have known he was here fucking a woman.
Rob tried to make his way back to the main part of the warehouse without being seen, but he made slow progress. He heard Jaekwan become upset about something. He shouted curses about lawyers and judges, which Rob took to mean he found out his paycheck had been garnished yet again.
Soon the warehouse guys filtered out. Rob’s cell phone blew up with text messages from the executives upstairs — they didn’t know where he went, and they needed him to make a decision on some issue that bored Rob so much he couldn’t possibly choose. So he turned his cell phone off.
Jaekwan worked later than the others because it was his turn to clean up. That meant he had to sweep and double-check that all of the heavy machinery was turned off and unplugged, so he was to leave some half an hour after the others. He was supposed to verify that the office was empty, lock the warehouse door and close the gate too.
That gave Rob an idea. He went around Jaekwan — who swept with earbuds in, so it was easy to sneak around him — and went upstairs. He wrote Hey Jaekwan, you wanna make a thousand dollars by demolishing some ass? on a whiteboard, with an arrow pointing into the CEO’s office.
Rob went in there and bent over with his bare ass high in the air. He covered himself in lube.
Finally he heard Jaekwan come upstairs. He opened the door from the stairwell and called out, “Hey! Any motherfucker here?” He sounded angry.
Rob paused, waiting for him to come in here. He was supposed to check that no one was in the office. The company’s insurance required him to look in each room.
But he didn’t. Rob hadn’t even considered the possibility that Jaekwan might not actually do it. Rob hurried out into the hall once he heard the doors slam shut.
Am I gonna be locked in?
He made his way to the stairwell. Jaekwan was down on the first floor. “Hey Jaekwan! Hey!” But his earbuds were still in. Jaekwan danced as he went down the steps, murmuring along with the song. He had a bitter, angry look because he was still mad about the garnishment order. He was pretty sure that kid wasn’t his anyway.
Rob made it into the warehouse behind Jaekwan. He shouted and even knocked over a recycling bin to try to get his attention. Jaekwan opened the bay doors. He stood there waiting for them to open.
Then he stepped out and pushed the button to close them. He only turned around and saw Rob sprinting through the warehouse towards him as the bay door slid shut in front of him.
“Hey!”
“Yo! Hey! Was someone in there?!”
There was a moment’s silence. Rob kept running even as the lights flicked off. He was plunged into pitch-blackness and collided face-first into the bay door just as it began raising once again. Pain exploded in his nose. “Ow, fuck!”
“Hello? Mister? Who in there?” Jaekwan sneered when the door opened. He took the earbuds out of his ear.
Rob was out of breath. “Hey. Sorry. Hey. I’m… I’m Rob.”
“Rob? Do you work here?”
“Sorta… I… own… it.”
“You own it? Own what?”
Rob gestured all around him. “This.”
It looked like Jaekwan either didn’t understand or didn’t believe him. He scowled. “What?”
“I own this place. I’m Rob Winthrop.”
“Oh.” His eyes lit up. “Oh! You’re that guy?!”
“Yeah. That’s me.”
He paused, then forced a smile on his face. “Yo. Uh, hey! Hey… Nice to meet’cha, sir.” He shook Rob’s hand.
“Don’t…” Rob wanted to tell him not to be so polite, to not treat him like a boss. But he was still out of breath. It had been exciting, he thought, after a day of boring work, he had had to race or be locked in overnight.
“Don’t what?”
“Sorry, uh…” Rob said. He leaned against the wall. He took a deep breath. “We’re not at work anymore. You don’t have to call me sir. I mean, you can call me Rob even at work, but now you should really call me Rob.” He took a deep breath.
“Oh. Okay, Rob. I’m Jaekwan.” He grinned. “Sorry I was in a bad mood before. I, uh… I’m kinda upset-“
“I know. I heard. You got your wages garnished.”
He nodded. “Man, I can’t get ahead. It ain’t fair. Court fees got me down. Costs so damn much…” He paused and spat on the ground. “You alright? You fall asleep in there or what?”
“No, not that,” Rob said. He took a deep breath. “I wrote something upstairs — we should…” He chuckled. “Nevermind. It’ll be a surprise tomorrow.” He paused. “I was hoping to talk to you.”
“Me?”
“I would be willing to help you with your court fees and child support,” Rob said. “But you gotta do something for me.”
“Hmm?”
“Cornhole me.”
His eyes opened wide. “What?”
“I want you to cornhole me. I’ll get you hard-“
“Okay.” He paused. Then he paused and bristled. He looked around, shutting the bay door behind himself. “I mean… how much? I don’t do that shit. You gotta pay-“
“Jaekwan, it would be more effective if you negotiated before you said okay.”
“I ain’t mean to say okay. I was…” He smiled like he had been caught in a lie. “You gotta pay a lot. I don’t do this. It’s, y’know… You gotta pay me a lotta money. Twenty grand.”
Rob choked. “Shit, are you serious?”
“Twenty grand.”
“Jaekwan…”
“What, man?!”
“I’m not paying you twenty grand.”
“Why not? I got good nigga dick!” He grabbed his cock through his crotch and snorted. “Bam!”
“That’s not happening, Jaekwan. I’m not paying twenty grand,” Rob said. “I was gonna offer two hundred dollars.”
“Man…” He sucked on his teeth. “Five hundred dollars.”
“Fine.” Rob shook his hand and giggled. “Did you really think I was gonna pay twenty grand?”
He opened the door to the warehouse and led Rob in. “Man, you should pay that. I’m good, man. I swear. I can stick you so good-“
“There is no way you do it twenty grand good. Unless your jizz is Apple stock, it can’t be that valuable.”
He sniffled. He stepped into the warehouse, leaned against a wall and lifted his shirt over his head again. “I’m worth twenty grand, man.”
“Well, prove it,” Rob said as he dropped to his knees.
He unzipped his jeans and let a thick black cock flop out over Rob’s face. He laughed and slapped Rob on the cheek with it. “You like nigga dick, huh?”
Rob blushed and nodded. That wasn’t exactly true — Rob loved all kinds of men. One funny thing about them was that they always assumed he had a fetish for their type. He didn’t have a special love for black guys, but whenever he jerked one off, they assumed he had a black-men fetish. Whenever he jerked off a Texan, they thought he had a fetish for Texans. When he jerked off plumbers or Mexicans or stuntmen or bus drivers or Native Americans, they always assumed he had sought them out for their identity. He didn’t bother to explain that because he knew from personal experience that Jaekwan would just think he was lying anyway.
“Uh-huh…” Rob licked his dick from tip to root. It twitched and got hard in his hand. He kept licking, not putting it in his mouth, just licking it, until it was fully hard and throbbing where it lay against his face.
“Why don’t white boys offer money more? Huh?”
Rob went right to throating it. He didn’t really understand what Jaekwan was asking, and Rob was too focused on his cock to consider it. He slurped up all the day’s sweat off Jaekwan’s dick, while his hands roamed up to Jaekwan’s perfectly flat belly.
“Huh? Man?” He grabbed Rob by the ears and pulled him off his dick. “What’choo think? My daddy always said-“
“Lemme get-” Rob stuck his tongue out. He managed to tease the tip of Jaekwan’s dick, but Jaekwan wouldn’t let him go back to it. Rob pushed against his hand with his tongue out. Jaekwan’s dick, which still stank of that fat girl’s pussy, throbbed half-hard, tantalizingly close to Rob’s face.
“My daddy used to say that you could get white boys to pay you for dick, to make they dick better. Like if’n you swallow some big nigga dick, it make yo’ dick bigger. He say he got this white man who pay a thousand dollars to jack ‘im off. He got all these rules-“
“C’mon…” Rob managed to break free and taste his dick for a few seconds, his mouth plunging deep on Jaekwan’s shaft, but Jaekwan pulled him off without missing a beat.
“He got rules, like you can go behind a swanky nightclub and they’s always gonna be there, givin’ cats dome. But I done that and ain’t no one there but some swishy sissy passed out cold. Ain’t even have no money in his wallet.” He paused. “Well, answer it, man.”
Rob rolled his eyes. “You didn’t ask a question.” He really wanted to get back to Jaekwan’s dick. He had one hand on the base, stroking it slowly, hoping to get Jaekwan hard enough he’d get on with it.
He furrowed his brow. “What up with that?”
“That’s… I don’t know, uh… I mean… Your dad, uh… sounds like he’s full of shit.”
He threw his hands in the air. “I know, right?!”
“Maybe it used to be true. Maybe when he was growing up, there were guys offering money behind a nightclub. That’s not, like, a tradition though,” Rob said. “Can I get back to your dick now?”
“Yeah, man, go for it.” He wrinkled his nose like he hadn’t made Rob stop. He moaned as Rob immediately throated him deeply. He leaned against the wall. “Shit, man…” He paused. “We should set up some regular thing, man. Like… I can come over, and you can pay me-“
“No.” Rob smiled. “Sorry. I don’t do that.”
“Man-“
“Do you have a girlfriend?”
“What?”
“Do you have a serious girlfriend?” Rob stroked his dick and teased it, tracing the veins that ran up and down the shaft with his tongue.
Jaekwan scoffed. “Nah. I don’t do that. I got bitches I fuck wit’.”
“Well, I have similar arrangements,” Rob said. He thwacked Jaekwan’s cock around his face. “I’m not going to be sticking around here. I’ll call you up when I’m in the area.”
“Like a bootycall?”
“If you like.”
He frowned. He watched his dick disappear down Rob’s throat. “Yo, man, you prolly know lots of rich people, right?” Rob nodded without taking his dick out of his throat. “You should give ‘em my number. Tell ‘em I got good nigga dick. Tell ‘em five hundred dollars but I can negotiate. No, wait, tell ‘em I don’t negotiate, but like… hint that I might. But don’t hint toward any rich ones. You know rich folk? Don’t give ‘em an amount. I’ll say-“
“Jaekwan, shush,” Rob said. He slurped up the precum starting to leak out of Jaekwan’s piss-slit, despite the fact that Jaekwan was seemingly not paying attention to what Rob was doing.
“Man…” Jaekwan sucked on his teeth.
“I don’t know any one who would pay you-“
“You know girls who pay for sex? I’ll be a gigolo. I’ll fuck fat chicks, no problem. Old chicks too, I don’t care. I’ll do it. Hundred bucks. Plus expenses, if they want me to take ‘em out to dinner or somethin’.” He beamed like this was an act of charity he should be commended for. “I eat pussy real good too. See?”
Rob sighed. He kept stroking Jaekwan’s dick with one hand, while Jaekwan pulled out his cell phone. He played a video for Rob, showing Jaekwan eating some woman’s pussy. Jaekwan was holding the camera as it recorded and as he licked her vagina, so it was a blurry, poorly-shot video. It was held so close it looked like some alien creature gave birth to a full-grown man but his tongue got stuck.
“See? Look, man, I eat pussy so good.”
Rob rolled his eyes. “Jaekwan, quit it. I don’t know any women who will pay you for sex.”
“I’ll give ‘em the first time for free,” he said. Rob just ignored him though. Rob decided to move on. He turned around, dropped his pants and bent over. He stuck his ass high in the air. Jaekwan’s voice trailed off as he looked at Rob’s tight bottom. “Shit…”
“You ready?”
He wedged his thick dick between Rob’s cheeks. There was a moment of merciful silence, which seemed spookily sepulchral in the high-ceilinged warehouse. The tip of his dick slid in, and Rob grunted.
“Oh!” Jaekwan slapped Rob’s asscheek. “I got an idea. You like nigga dick, right? I know all kinda niggas. You gimme a hundred bucks per nigga, I can send you like a million of ‘em. You gonna be drownin’ in nut-“
“Jaekwan, stop-“
“I could send you like twenty of ‘em tonight. Like all them warehouse dudes-“
“I don’t have a black-guy fetish.”
“What?”
“I won’t just mess with any black guy,” Rob said, panting cuz of the pressure in his ass. “I think you are desirable. You, personally. None of the other warehouse guys.”
He looked taken aback, like he hadn’t thought Rob was capable of showing discretion. He stood there with just the first half-an-inch of his dick in Rob’s ass. “Oh. Well, what kinda black guys you like? I can send you ‘em. You want big dicks? I’ll measure dicks, I don’t care. I can do that. Shit, us warehouse niggas all gangbanged this chick last year. I saw most of they dicks then, and Jerome Nicklebee accidentally shot most of his nut on my shoulder-“
“I don’t like them!” Rob shouted. “C’mon, Jaekwan, you gotta cornhole me. I don’t like the other warehouse guys.”
“Not even Malik Jumper? He got a six-pack, swear to God-“
“No!” Rob had no idea if he had seen Malik before, but he didn’t want to talk about this anymore.
Jaekwan grumbled. “Man… you ain’t nice. I know all kinda niggas.” He drilled his dick in a little deeper. “I can hook you up wit’ any nigga you want. We can go drivin’, you pick someone out, on Center Street, there’s always tons of niggas there, most of ‘em shirtless in summertime. I don’t know ‘em all, but you gimme two hundred bucks, I’ll find ‘em. Don’t tell them how much you payin’ me, cuz I’ll only give them fifty bucks-“
“Jaekwan, stop it. I’m not giving you any money for anything besides cornholing me right now. That means you gotta stop talking about other stuff. You gotta focus on cornholing me. You gotta earn your money.”
Jaekwan let out an annoyed growl. “Fine.” He pumped his hips, gradually shoving more of his dick in. At first it hurt — he was in a bad mood and didn’t try to make it feel good, then he remembered he was being paid and he made long, slow, smooth motions with his hips. “That feel good, baby?” His voice was seductive, like he was talking to a girl.
“Hmm… Yeah…” Rob backed his ass up until he felt Jaekwan’s pubic hair and crotch on his ass. He moaned, which made Jaekwan laugh like a cocky bastard.
Jaekwan wrapped one arm around Rob’s face. His father had told him that you should put men in a chokehold when you cornhole them, so that was what he did. It was gross because he was so sweaty — the air conditioning was off, so it was getting hot in the warehouse — but Jaekwan didn’t mind the sweat.
He went down to the ground with Rob. His shirt was over his head, his pants around his ankles. Jaekwan pounded away at Rob’s ass, his bare chest pressing down on Rob’s back.
He stopped moving with his cock all the way in Rob. “Hey. Do you smoke weed? You want weed? I can get you great weed. Or coke. Or Ecstasy, man, I do it all. You want pills? I can get fent, or-“
“No,” Rob said through gritted teeth.
“Damn it… I thought rich guys did lots of drugs.”
“Jaekwan. If you’re going to cornhole me, please focus on cornholing me,” Rob said. He grunted. The pressure in his ass was intense. It felt good too, but it was hard to have a conversation right now. He was ensconced in Jaekwan’s powerful arms.
“Oh. Yeah.” He sounded like he had forgotten his dick was in Rob’s ass. He slammed all the way in and out, grinding his cock deeply into Rob’s tight hole. “Shit, you got a nice ass…”
“You have an amazing cock…” Rob said.
“I know! You should pay me more, man, that’s what-“
“Shut up,” Rob said through gritted teeth.
Jaekwan sighed and kept going. He grumbled to himself as he went, and he tightened his grip on Rob’s arm. The one nice thing about sticking men, he thought, was that they didn’t complain about going at them too hard. A girl would have made him slow down by now.
He was about to ask if Rob needed any work done on his car — Jaekwan was a pretty good mechanic — when an orgasm erupted deep within him. Jaekwan slapped Rob’s ass and pounded him into the ground. He didn’t even notice Rob shoot his own load all over the concrete floor.
Cum sprayed into Rob’s ass. Jaekwan, even though he had just fucked a couple hours ago, shot a massive wad of cum. It just kept flowing, filling Rob’s ass up, until hot, creamy cum seeped into every corner of his flesh.
“Goddamn…” Jaekwan said. He took a deep breath. Aftershocks of his orgasm ran through him. “Yo, man… You got a car?”
Rob heard his question but was too overwhelmed by his own climax to answer. He just shuddered and moaned. Gradually Jaekwan pulled out of his ass, asking the same question again and again. One final long flow of jizz seeped into Rob’s guts, and Rob sighed as aftershocks of his orgasm wracked his body.
“You got a car, man? Huh? I can fix it. I can do anything, man, swear to God. I’m good with cars,” he said. He pulled out and Rob sighed. Jaekwan stayed on top of him, his dick leaking a few more drops of cum onto Rob’s asscheeks. He whispered into Rob’s ear. “Huh? How’s your car?”
“It’s fine. I don’t need any work,” Rob said. Then he smiled. “I’ll give you an extra hundred bucks if you kiss me. With tongue.”
Jaekwan made a face like he would never do that. But then, without another word, he turned his head to the side and kissed Rob right on the lips. His tongue plunged in. It was rather awkward and unpracticed. Jaekwan felt a few stray mustache hairs on Rob’s mostly smooth face, and that made it difficult for Jaekwan to forget he was with a man. The kiss reawakened the sparks of bliss from Jaekwan’s cock, and Rob’s whole body twisted as intense sensations roiled his petite frame.
Finally he was done. Jaekwan sniffled like it was no big deal. He got up and wiped his dick off. “You best pay me, man.”
Rob nodded. He got out his smartphone and arranged a direct transfer into Jaekwan’s bank account.
“Hey, you like Mexicans? I can hook you up with this cholo I know. He’ll rob you, so don’t bring no cash. But he’ll cornhole you first,” Jaekwan said as Rob got dressed. “I’ll tell him not to beat you up. I know buncha Mexicans. Most of ‘em got tiny dicks though.”
Rob ignored him. He just went to his car. There were only two cars in the parking lot, so it was obvious which one was Jaekwan’s. Jaekwan frowned at him.
“Come on, man. He’s great, you’ll like him,” Jaekwan said. “Hey. You think about it. Call me, man.”
“See you later, Jaekwan.” Rob got in his car.
“Yeah! You can lick my asshole!” Jaekwan called out as Rob pulled away. “Uh… Six hundred dollars.” He saw Rob laughing through the driver’s side window, so Jaekwan thought he had guessed wrong. “Twenty bucks!” The last thing he did was pull his sagging jeans down and display his bare brown ass for Rob in the rear-view mirror.
Rob watched his ass get smaller as he drove away. He giggled. He didn’t normally mess around with guys more than once, but Jaekwan was very alluring. He couldn’t resist.
He might wait to run this company into the ground until he had gotten everything he could out of Jaekwan.
Rico is temporarily homeless, but luckily his gang gives him a place to stay… but he’s got a roommate. His name is Thumper, and he’s an old head, an ex-con and a booty bandit to boot! Can Rico satisfy his new roommate’s unbridled desires?!
Read the whole thing here!
Rico walked into the Cityside Barbershop. Heart thumping, he carried with him virtually all of his belongings in a trash bag. He hoped nobody who saw him knew that. He tried to look cocky. The people in the barbershop — barbers and customers — looked at him like they knew what was up, like they could tell at a glance what he was: homeless.
He tried not to think of himself as homeless, even though he knew that’s precisely what he was.
He had money. Not quite enough to rent a nice place, but he might have been able to get a cheap room somewhere. The downside to that was that he wouldn’t be able to afford to save up enough to afford somewhere nicer. His stepdad kicking him out without warning had really put a damper on things.
The last couple months had been rough for Rico. After losing two ounces of heroin, he was in trouble with his boss in the Bloods, Thumper. Then his girlfriend dumped him, and now his stepfather had kicked him out as punishment for selling drugs. Everything was going wrong in Rico’s life. Six months ago he was the most respected gangbanger in the Bloods. Today, he was a hobo, considering whether he could squat above a barbershop for free. What time does a barbershop open in the morning? Probably early.
Avoiding eye contact, Rico went into the backroom. He had a feeling the customers and barbers at the Barbershop knew why he was carrying a trash bag into the back. He also knew that Thumper didn’t tell them, but they looked at him with a mixture of pity and scorn. They knew he was homeless.
Of course no one said anything. Everyone pretended to think Thumper was merely taking in a roommate half his age, rent-free. Which he was. There was just more to the story, and all them all knew it.
Behind the Cityside Barbershop was a staircase that led to an apartment on the second floor of the building. That was Thumper’s apartment. To be more precise, it was a Bloods apartment, and the Bloods let Thumper live in it because Thumper did thirty-four years for the Bloods. They owed him, and part of that was giving him a free apartment.
The catch was that Thumper had to share it with a young nigga now and then, which did not bother Thumper. It did bother Rico.
He heavyfooted into the apartment, a feeling dread spreading deep in his loins. Rico had the sinking feeling that this was adulthood, and he was soon going to wish he was a teenager again. High school was so simple, but so long ago. Thumper was in his forties, maybe older, which was ancient as far as Rico was concerned.
When Rico arrived, Thumper was in his living room, meeting with a few other gangbangers. As they all finished up Bloods business, Rico “moved in”, a process completed when he dropped his trash bag.
There was no spare bedroom, so Rico was sleeping on the couch. He was fine with that because he hoped it would spur him into finding a new place. He didn’t want to live here forever, like Thumper’s little butt-boy.
“Yo, Rico, come here and rap at us,” Thumper said, the meeting dwindling as the others left one by one. His voice was deep and tough, commanding respect. “We talkin’ ‘bout what to do regardin’ the Sweet Hill boys. Whatchoo think?”
“Well, I think we gotta beat them niggas down,” Rico said, more because he wanted to seem tough than because he had any particular knowledge of the situation. He was only vaguely aware that the Sweet Hill gang had begun selling crack on territory the Bloods considered to be their own.
“Alright, that’s a plan,” Thumper said. He smiled at Rico. “You get yo’ niggas together and do it this week, okay?”
Rico hadn’t thought he’d be put in charge of it, but he could hardly say no when Thumper was letting him stay here rent-free. He nodded as though it wasn’t going to be difficult. Some of the other thugs looked at Rico pitiably, and Rico tried not to notice.
Now the big problem Rico had was that he needed to find some niggas who were willing to put their lives at risk for a plan Rico hadn’t come up with yet to attack some unknown number of strangers somewhere in the city. Rico was going to struggle to put that crew together, and he wondered if Thumper had assigned him that role to see if he was up to snuff, if could actually put plans together. As a true blue gangbanger — or a true red gangbanger, as Rico liked to think of it — Rico very much thought of himself as capable of doing that.
But none of his friends would even let him sleep on their couch, so Rico had doubts he could get them to go in at the Sweet Hill boys guns blazing.
Thumper clapped his hands together as though the Sweet Hill problem was as good as solved, and the last few Bloods headed out the door. Rico’s mind raced as he tried to think of a way out of this. He shouldn’t have agreed to the Sweet Hill mission so readily. He didn’t even know where Sweet Hill was — Sweet Hill was the name of the shopping center with the CVS and the T-Mobile store. Was Rico supposed to gather a crew to go shoot up the T-Mobile store? He couldn’t very well ask Thumper now, could he? He’d already agreed to do it, he’d look like an idiot admitting only now that he didn’t know where the Sweet Hill boys were, who they were, how to hit them, how many they were, etc.
And no guns! Rico didn’t have any guns! He had a week to put together a crew, find out what and where the Sweet Hill boys are, find guns, go in shooting, succeed in intimidating them and dispose of the guns and perhaps dead bodies. Since he’d agreed to do it so confidently, if he succeeded — which he obviously wouldn’t — but if he succeeded, he’d barely get any credit for it. Thumper would just say ‘good job, you did what you said you’d do’.
He should have made a bigger deal out of how difficult it would be. Maybe he could have gotten Thumper to at least provide the guns.
Once the door shut, Rico was alone with Thumper for the first time ever — it hadn’t occurred to Rico until this moment that he had never been alone with Thumper. Thumper was one of the head honchos in the Bloods, but Rico had only ever spent time with him in a group.
Now he very much wished one of his niggas had let him sleep on the couch.
The apartment stayed silent once the others were gone. Rico gulped. Sweat beaded on his forehead because he sensed Thumper staring at him, evaluating him, maybe just seeing how long he’d take being stared at before he snapped. Thumper was like that. He be testing niggas.
“You ever mess around on the downlow, Rico?” Thumper asked after a long, awkward silence fell between them.
“Uh, yeah. Once,” Rico said. He instantly regretted saying that. It was true, but he had heard Thumper was often on the downlow with his close niggas — only for Thumper, “downlow” meant you serviced him, not any kind of reciprocal behavior. That wasn’t what Rico meant by it.
Rico looked down at his feet, avoiding eye contact from Thumper.
After a long pause, Thumper raised his eyebrows. “Just once, huh? You do it with a nigga you respec’?”
“I guess so.” Rico didn’t know how to answer that. He did it with Kayshawn Henderson, who he didn’t really respect or get along with — they were just drunk — but he didn’t want to explain that to Thumper. Kayshawn wasn’t even a Blood. Plus it was downlow, which means secret. Thumper might be angry if Rico shared a secret, because Thumper trusted Rico not to spill the beans on Bloods business.
“Huh,” Thumper said with a knowing nod. He raised his eyebrows. Rico sighed. He winced. He got a very strong impression that Thumper wanted Rico to jerk him off.
Thumper was like that. After thirty-four years in prison, Thumper did not jack himself off. He saw it as demeaning. He often demanded niggas jack him off — with mouth! Swallowing! The whole nine yards! Rico could understand the impulse. He didn’t like jacking himself off either. It made him feel like an immature brat.
But he couldn’t bring himself to mouth Thumper off. Thumper was an old man by Rico’s standards. It would be humiliating. Thumper could get any random crackhead in this neighborhood to mouth him off.
Thumper crossed his arms over his chest, accentuating the softball-sized pecs beneath his tight t-shirt. He ran his tongue over his teeth and clucked. “Huh,” he said again.
“Thumper, I… Uh, thanks a lot fo’ lettin’ me stay here,” Rico said. His heart raced again. Just like when he was nervous those niggas in the barbershop would realize he was homeless, he was nervous now that all the niggas in the Bloods would hear about him jerking Thumper off.
Thumper nodded.
Rico sighed again. This wouldn’t be that bad, he thought, he’d done it before. A lot of Bloods had jerked Thumper off too — Thumper loved finding reasons to make a loyal Blood do it, like if they fucked something up. So nobody would be shocked to find out Rico did it. In fact, they’d probably assume he did, cuz Thumper seemed like the type to make his roommate jerk him off. He was precisely that kind of nigga, and Rico was too young and powerless in the organization to resist.
When Thumper had stood before him for what seemed like a long time, Rico sunk to his knees, afront the couch he was to sleep on tonight. Thumper seemed huge from down below him. Rico gulped.
At last that position made Thumper grunt out his satisfaction. He stood still, looming over Rico, who winced and wished there was another position to do it in — he could hardly make demands though — it would be less humiliating if Thumper sat on the couch and Rico could lay down on it or something like that. Any position in which Rico didn’t have to kneel like a beggar would be an improvement.
Rico waited for a moment, thinking Thumper would take his own dick out, but he didn’t. He just towered over Rico and watched. Rico winced at the realization that Thumper wanted Rico to take it out. That was prison bitch stuff, he thought.
Reaching up for Thumper’s dick, Rico shuddered. Then, much to his surprise, Thumper batted his hand away.
“You should ask a nigga fo’ permission befo’ you start stroking his dick,” Thumper said. “If that’s what you wanna do.”
Rico spoke quietly, blushing so hard his cheeks burned. “Thumper… do you want, uh…? I mean… is it okay, uh, if I jerk you off?”
“That’s a real nice offer, nigga. That’s a good gesture,” he said, as though it was the first time he had said that word and was unsure how to pronounce it. Before Rico could undo his belt, Thumper clucked his disapproval. “Play wit’ it through my pants first, nigga. Go slow, make it feel good.”
Rico blanched and winced. He gently stroked the bulge in Thumper’s dick, and for some reason just feeling that spongy flesh through his jeans made Rico gag. Thumper’s manhood stirred beneath the denim. He groaned in a way that made Rico shiver with disgust. He groaned like he was on the verge of orgasm, even though all Rico had done was touch his dickshaft through his jeans. Thumper wasn’t even hard.
He took Thumper’s belt in hand to undo it, but Thumper stopped him. He dragged Rico’s hand back to the bulge in his jeans. “No, don’t take my pants off,” Thumper said. “Just undo the fly and take it out. Look me in the eye when you jerk me off. That’s a mark of respec’, nigga.”
His hands trembled. Rico wasn’t sure if he could do that — stroking another man’s cock was humiliating enough, but looking Thumper in the eye while he did it would make it even worse. The zipper seemed impossibly loud, and when it was open, Rico got a burst of stale crotch sweat in his nostrils. He gagged again, and Thumper clucked with disapproval once more.
“You may take it out now, Rico,” Thumper said. Something in the way he said his name made Rico shudder all over again.
Rico had to reach in to pull out Thumper’s dick, which was still soft and veiny, dark brown like dirt, slick with sweat. He wanted to wipe it off, but Rico was sure Thumper would say that was disrespectful. The smell of unwashed ballsweat made Rico’s stomach churn.
That cock was huge. Rico knew Thumper had a big one, lots of niggas said so, but he had never seen it in person. It was a foot long even fully soft, and it was hot and slimy with sweat, so thick Rico could barely get his whole hand around it. It dangled afront Thumper’s crotch, and it swayed like a pendulum when Thumper moved.
Rico opened his mouth and closed his eyes, and he waited.
After a few seconds of nothing happening, Rico opened his eyes again. Thumper’s dick was still there, still limp, and seeing it made the smell of crotchsweat more potent, so Rico bit back a gag. That was when he looked up and saw Thumper’s furrowed brow aimed down at him. Rico gulped.
“Well? Put’cha mouth on it, nigga,” Thumper said. “Get’cha hands on it. Is you showin’ respec’ or not?”
“I am-“
“Then do somethin’ with it,” Thumper said. He put his hands on his hips and raised his eyebrows.
Rico touched it again, gently with one hand, which he then wrapped around the shaft. He grimaced. This was a lot easier with Kayshawn, he thought. Then they were drunk, having snuck booze into a church lock-in, and they were sharing a bed, the lights stayed off, they barely talked, it was more of an accidental fumbling thing than a real downlow “seduction” of any kind. By the time Rico pondered it, it was over with.
This felt entirely different. Thumper’s cock had that old-man smell too, with seemingly too much dickskin. Rico didn’t like how it roped around in his grasp as he stroked it gingerly, slowly, as badly as possible at first because he didn’t want a reputation for doing it good, then he realized the better his hands were, the less Thumper might demand he use his mouth, so Rico stroked it as good as he could. Thumper kept letting out little moans and pumping his hips as though so horny he couldn’t resist attempting at Rico’s mouth. Thumper’s dick stayed soft though, and he was obviously not that horny, he was just pretending.
“Hmm, you got a real pretty mouth, nigga,” Thumper murmured. “Put it on my dick.”
Rico winced, but he opened his mouth. He held onto Thumper’s cock by the root with one hand, and he moved his open mouth in that direction with his eyes scrunched shut. Thumper used both hands to guide Rico’s head until his mouth and nose collided with Thumper’s sweaty cockshaft.
A furious gag came outta Rico’s mouth as Thumper’s spongy limp dick touched his lips and then his tongue. There was already a slight cummy taste, either precum from Rico’s masturbating it through Thumper’s pants or maybe left over from something else. Maybe it was leftover from when he was “on the downlow” with some other nigga, Rico didn’t know how often a downlow gangbanger like Thumper would do that. Maybe lots. They said he was a booty bandit in prison.
Thumper kept his arms over his chest, so Rico had to chase his cock with his mouth. Every time the tip got in his mouth, he tasted sweaty old-nigga nastiness again, gagged and spat it out. Thumper wasn’t getting an erection like that.
But rico couldn’t quite bring himself to go any deeper than the tip. Even that felt impossibly thick, and Rico wasn’t sure he could go any farther. Thumper’s dick was thicker than his mouth.
“When you handle the dick of a nigga you respec’, Rico, you should deep-throat it,” Thumper said. “You know what that means? You evuh get head from a girl?”
“Yes!” Rico said, annoyed at Thumper’s patronizing tone.
“Don’t you talk to me like that, nigga,” Thumper said, his voice growly and threatening. Rico shuddered. Thumper forced his eyes open — Rico hadn’t even noticed he closed them — and sneered down at Rico. “Real niggas got backup plans, Rico, you know that? They ready to get kicked outta they place. They got cash.”
Rico wanted to defend himself, but when he tried to pull off Thumper’s dick, Thumper’s hands gripped his head and held it in place. Thumper growled again, and he pushed Rico’s head deeper onto his shaft. Rico gagged all over again as that cock pushed into his throat.
“Take my balls out wit’ one hand, and play wit’ em. Gentle-like,” Thumper said. He groaned as Rico did so, gingerly playing with his sweaty sac. The feel of that slick flesh made Rico’s stomach churn. His cock throbbed and grew warmer and warmer as it firmed up in Rico’s mouth. “Yeah, that’s nice, nigga. That’s respec’.”
The sour flavor of precum assaulted Rico’s senses, and brought tears to his eyes. He was glad it was dark enough in this room that Thumper couldn’t see — it wasn’t really crying anyway, he thought, it was tears from suffocation and stress, not being a pansy. He didn’t think Thumper would acknowledge a difference though.
The tasty of sweaty cockmeat grew more and more tolerable, though Rico thought that was mainly because he sucked up all the sweat and grime, replacing it with plain spit. The veiny shaft invaded his throat with each powerful thrust of Thumper’s cock.
The moist grunting of Thumper’s voice was offputting to Rico. He sounded like a rutting animal, and it reminded Rico that his mouth was just being used now. Thumper was going to continue to use his mouth and body — though hopefully not his ass — until Rico moved out. That was possibly the entire reason Thumper offered to let him stay here.
“Whatchoo plan wit’ my nut?” Thumper asked as he groaned.
Rico didn’t understand the question. He just looked up at Thumper, and tried to ignore that massive shaft drilling into his throat. All of a sudden, a burst of salty precum hit his tongue, and Rico gagged violently.
But Thumper kept a grip on his head. Rico tried to look down as he retched, only he couldn’t with Thumper’s hands on his head. All he could do was gag up around the erect cock bobbing around on his face, leaving a layer of precum that only made him gag again and again.
“Huh? I’m gonna blow my load,” Thumper said. “Whatchoo gonna do wit’ it? You want me to shoot it on yo’ face or what? In yo’ hand? You need a plan.”
Rico was glad to hear that he had a choice. He pulled off Thumper’s dick, intending to say in my hand, which was the least objectionable option. But then he saw Thumper’s scrunched-up face, and Rico knew this was a test. He wasn’t sure exactly what the answer was, but in my hand wasn’t it.
“Think long and hard, Rico. You got a lotta factors to consider. Yo’ respec’ fo’ me, if you got any,” Thumper said. He sniffled.
“I’ll… uh, swallow it,” Rico said, wincing as Thumper mollwopped his erection onto Rico’s face, smearing spit and precum all over it. He held his breath to avoid gagging.
“Yeah,” Thumper said. “You will. But befo’ that, I wanna see it. I like seeing it. Play’ wit’ it a bit.”
“Oh.”
“So whatchoo think?”
“I, uh… I guess I’ll do that.”
“So where you want me to nut? In yo’ mouth?”
It was obvious he wanted Rico to say yes, so he did so. Then Thumper pushed his cock back in Rico’s mouth. He grunted as he wrapped his hands behind Rico’s head.
He thrust his hips so powerfully his cockshaft pushed down Rico’s throat until his nose was nestled in Thumper’s pubic hair. Rico couldn’t even gag because his throat was so choked with throbbing dickmeat. All he could do was sit there on his knees and let it happen.
“That’s a good idea, Rico. I’ll shoot my load in yo’ mouth, just like you askin’ me to. That’s very respec’ful, nigga. Don’t swallow nothin’ till I tell you to, okay? We gonna play a bit first.”
Rico nodded, but even as he did, Thumper was blowing his wad. He shot it right in the back of Rico’s throat. Some of it dripped into his gullet, but Rico instinctively avoided swallowing it. He would have accidentally spilled it all but Thumper kept a tight grip on his head. Thumper grunted, rutting like a pig as his fat cock spasmed inside Rico.
At last it was over, and a burst of jizz spurted onto Rico’s tongue. Salty cum filled his mouth. It seemed like a huge amount, but Rico wasn’t sure how much was normal or how much it really was. His stomach churned with disgust, begging him to spit it out. The sour and salty flavor made his eyes water all over again, and he had to hold back a violent retch.
“Open up,” Thumper said, his voice wavering as another jet of cum hit Rico’s mouth. He kneeled down and looked in. “Come on,” he said. “It’s dark in here. I wanna see yo’ pretty-boy mouth.”
Gagging and holding onto his stomach, Rico managed to spread his lips without spilling any of the cum filling his mouth, as Thumper’s dicktip hovered over his face and spewed a few final drops onto his nose and upper lip. Thumper looked into his mouth as though trying to find something. He smiled with satisfaction, then spat right into it. The bitterness of his saliva made Rico choke. He nearly spilled but Thumper held him by the neck.
“That’s a big one,” Thumper said. He stuck one finger in, all the way back until Rico gagged. Then Thumper held the palm of his hand out until Rico spat the entire wad into it. Rico was glad to be rid of it, though he could still feel that snotty texture on his tongue. There was a pubic hair stuck in the back of his throat too, but he couldn’t spit it out right now.
Thumper raised his eyebrows as Rico got ahold of his stomach and his gagging. He kept that cum-filled palm right in front of Rico’s face, where the scent assaulted his nostrils, making it hard for Rico to regain his composure. Thumper cleared his throat. “I’ll ignore your gagging, Rico. That’s rude, but I understand…” It was obvious he wanted Rico to suck the cum back up, and he raised his eyebrows as though to say You better do it now, it’ll get worse when it’s cold. Rico opened his mouth, but Thumper cleared his throat and shook his head.
Rico blushed. “Uh… Thumper, can I eat your nut?”
“Yes, you may. Thank you for askin’, nigga.”
Rico gagged and nearly vomited as he sucked it off Thumper’s callused palm. He choked it down and waited there, blushing intensely as Thumper looked him in the eye. Then Thumper’s fingers forced his mouth open, and he checked that Rico had swallowed the whole thing. Rico felt that hot lump in his belly, the creamy texture and the sheer warmth of it suffusing into his flesh.
“Good,” he said. “Now go to sleep. Set yo’ alarm for seven o’clock, nigga. By seven-thirty, I want you wakin’ me up wit’ yo’ prettyboy mouth on my dick again. Have breakfast ready when you swallow my first nut of the day. You understand?”
“Yes, Thumper,” Rico said. He gulped. Remnants of jizz shone all over his mug. “I’ll do it.”
“I know. I ain’t ax fo’ yo’ agreement, Rico. I axt fo’ yo’ comprehension. Yo’ agreement is assumed,” Thumper said. He slapped his limp dick over Rico’s face again. “Don’t wipe that nut off yo’ face. I wanna see it dried on there in the morning.”
Rob is at it again, this time landing an entire college football team! Their coach lets Rob go to town all over their studly alpha male bodies, and these jocks are all too happy to use him as they see fit!
Can Rob handle these young men’s carnal desires?
Read the whole thing here!
Rob got hard as soon as he walked into the locker room. The entire GHU football team was there, eyeing him suspiciously. They knew who he was, of course, they just weren’t sure how to treat him. Rob entered as Coach Marshall finished his pre-practice spiel, which involved significant scolding, the slapping of asscheeks and many sexually charged insults. During all of that, the players focused on sneaking curious glances at Rob.
When he was done, Coach Marshall briefly introduced Rob to the team and said to do whatever he said and that Rob was no excuse for poor performance today. Coach Marshall was embarrassed with this part, so he got through it quickly and left. Once he was gone, Rob blushed and told the players to just relax.
“I won’t hurt, I promise,” Rob said with a casual grin.
He started with Raython Lake, a beefy running back with a curvy body and broad shoulders. Lake had implied he was very comfortable with this and even got dome from men in the past — he had an “old guy” who paid him for his old jockstraps and an occasional swing on his meat — Lake says “all dome is good dome”, and he has similar views on pussy. All that made him seem like a good place to start. Lake was sitting on a bench between rows of lockers, wearing nothing but a jockstrap soaked with sweat.
Rob inserted his tongue into the top of Lake’s asscrack, making him giggle like a schoolboy, then Rob licked in one long smooth motion all the way up Lake’s spine. Salty sweat coated his tongue and made him moan with desire.
“Holy shit, Lake, is he lickin’ your butt?”
“He is, he is-“
“That’s a rimjob, broh.”
“Nah, nah,” Lake said, suppressing a baritone laugh that came from either anxiety or ticklishness or both. His back arched and squirmed as Rob’s tongue explored the smoothness of his flesh. “He just lickin’ my back.”
“Is that a thing?”
“Are you into backs?”
That made Rob laugh as well. “No, no, not really, guys, I’m not especially into backs,” he said. He clutched the broad muscles of Lake’s back. “That’s not what this is about-“
“Then why are you licking my back?”
“I have never licked a girl’s back.”
“Right? There’s no point. There’s nothing there.”
“Maybe it’s foreplay! Maybe he’s gonna seduce you, Lake.”
“Will not.”
“Maybe back licking is just the first step-“
Rob held up his hands. “Guys, relax. There’s no secret to uncover here. I just like muscles, that’s all. I like sweaty muscles, no matter what muscle it is. His back was right there, available, big and sweaty so I licked it. That’s all. There’s no wider lesson to be learned from that.”
There was a long awkward pause. Then Rob smiled and licked the back of Lake’s neck, scooping up every drop of salty sweat that collected there. He massaged Lake’s sensitive flesh, feeling his ribs and his flat belly. He tweaked each of his nipples.
“Why do you like sweat? That’s gross.”
“Yeah, don’t you want to wait until after we shower?”
“No!” Rob blushed as they giggled at his reaction. “I mean… No need for a shower.”
“Okay, guys, come on, quit payin’ attention to him, we got practice to get ready for. He ain’t here to distract us,” said Jimmy, the broad-shouldered blond quarterback and team captain. He rolled his eyes at the assembled group. He had a big grin on his face. “We gotta talk about the game tomorrow, or Coach Marshall is gonna lecture me about leadership again. First of all, Tuck, did you finish your mission?”
Rob had finished licking Lake’s back and moved on to the next player, Tuck, a hefty tackle with a deep Texan drawl, a cowboy hat on his head — which he only took off during games — and an expansive tattoo of the Confederate flag on his back. He had an unkempt beard and an even unkempter mustache, and his broad shoulders gleamed with beads of sweat that clung to the hairs that extended to his shoulders and beyond.
“Well, I went ovuh to that campus, and I reckoned they wouldn’t tell me nothin’ unless I fit in. So I got to drinkin’,” he said. And then he began a long story about going to a frat party at a different college on the other side of Atlanta. It was obvious — to Rob, anyway — that Tuck’s story was going to end with him getting too drunk to steal the other team’s playbook, which was what he had been told to do. But he took a long time to get to that point in the story. “I was drunker ‘an a skunk on Sunday, lemme tell you!” He whooped and slapped his meaty thigh. He continued his story — it was obvious his teammates were used to his slow, rambling stories.
That didn’t bother Rob, who used that time to get freaky. He bent down between Tuck’s legs and kissed his jockstrap-clad balls, making him stop talking for about a second as he gasped in surprise. He blushed and tried to pretend he wasn’t distracted by Rob’s ball-sucking.
“Tuck, are you about to tell us you passed out drunk on the lawn?”
“No!” His voice broke, and he blushed as his balls twitched. Tuck roared in frustration and stood up. He took off the jockstrap, and his heavy redneck cock popped out. He threw the jockstrap on Rob’s head and sat back down. Tuck arranged the straps so the jock-pouch part was over Rob’s nose — and he got a head full of muscle, sweat and Texan machismo, pubic hairs coating his cheeks, the astringent scent bringing tears to his eyes. But if Tuck intended to distract Rob, that effort failed because Rob just licked his bare cock instead.
“Then what happened?”
“I… fell asleep.”
“You passed out!” Jimmy shouted. “I oughta make you lick that guy’s balls, man.”
“Fuck you, Jimmy! You said to get drunk with them!”
“Oh, I’m sorry, I guess I should have specified that you shouldn’t get so drunk you pass out without completing your mission. Let’s just make that a permanent rule, okay? Anytime I give you a mission, I do not want you to get so drunk you can’t fulfill it. I also do not want you to get distracted by chasing butterflies, smoking crack or joining the Scientologists, Tuck! Should I list everything that should not distract you from your mission? No? Of course not, nothing should distract you from your mission, Tuck, that’s what makes it a mission!”
The entire team was laughing now, and even Tuck chortled, though he also winced and blushed. His dick twitched beneath Rob’s tongue, but it didn’t get hard.
He moved on to a dark-haired white man named Charlie, who looked at him like an oncoming tsunami as Rob came closer to him. He flexed his bicep, either as a threat or an invitation, since Rob had promised to lick muscles, or maybe as a distraction because he didn’t want Rob to focus on his cock.
So Rob did it — he loudly, moistly kissed Charlie’s left bicep, then slathered spit all along it. He had a barbed wire tattoo encircling his arm, which Rob traced with his tongue. He marveled at how rock-hard the muscle was, like he was licking a warm statue instead of a person. Why did only young bucks ever taste and feel like this?
“Hey! What’re you pussies still doin’ in the locker room? Huh? Sprints! Now!”
That was Coach Marshall, or Coach Hardass as he was known. When he bellowed from his office, the team jumped to their feet and hurried to throw their practice uniform on. For most of them, that meant those little half-shirts and dingy workout shorts.
“Relax yo’ old fart-factory, Coach Hardass…”
Rob watched them change, and aside from getting to kiss Tuck on his hair-dappled asscheeks — “kiss ‘em for good luck, okay, man?” — before he pulled his shorts up and headed out to the field, Rob wasn’t able to do more than watch them put clothes on. Watching men take clothes off was fun. Watching them put clothes on was less enjoyable.
He had only paid to have his way with them in the locker room, not out on the field. So Rob needed to stay in the lockers. He didn’t mind that too much. It was a nice break from the action, and he got to explore the masculine-scents and sweat stains of the clothing and equipment that filled the locker room.
Partway through the practice, as Rob wandered around sniffing jocks, he heard heavy footsteps and labored breathing. He jumped into the large cart near the door, wherein the players tossed their shared jockstraps and underclothes. Wifebeaters, t-shirts, boxer shorts and underwear abounded.
The smell was intoxicating, almost enough to distract Rob from the argument in the locker room. Coach Marshall had brought Jimmy in, dragging him by the earlobe.
“Coach! I told them to practice and I told them to do what you-“
“Shut your dumb mouth, Spokes!” Coach Marshall barked.
Jimmy yelped then, and Rob had to peek over the top of the hamper to see why. Coach Marshall had gotten Jimmy’s attention by gripping his crotch — his big, meaty hands held Jimmy’s jock-pouch in his palm, squeezing just hard enough that Jimmy held his breath, stood on his toes and flexed all his muscles at once. His blond hair trembled.
“Coach…”
“You want me to squeeze, boy!”
“No!”
“Then show some goddamn leadership! I tol’ you this job ain’t just ‘bout tellin’ ‘em what to do and handin’ out orange slices durin’ practice,” Coach Marshall said. “You gotta influence yo’ teammates, make ‘em do what they supposed to. Get ‘em to make good decisions instead of actin’ like ingrates.”
“Coach, I told them to!”
“And then they went out and got drunk and got balls-deep in some slut and you hung out and you double-teamed that slut along with ‘em, right? Lemme guess, Tuck was in her pussy cuz he’s a hillbilly and you was in her ass cuz you’re the team captain. And your balls slapped against Tuck’s and yer ballsweat mixed with his and your balls got all snuggly next to his-“
“Why are you so into balls, Coach?”
“Shut up!” He must have squeezed, because Jimmy gasped and straightened his back. Coach Marshall used his other hand to pull down Jimmy’s shorts. He slapped him on the ass — not in a kindly coach-like way or even in a mean pimp-like way, instead, he really slapped hard, like he wanted to slap the asscheek right off Jimmy. That made Jimmy buckle and cry out, and he nearly fell over but Coach Marshall kept ahold of his cock and balls with his other hand. Coach Marshall growled. “Only bein’ team captain ain’t about gettin’ the asshole when you double-penetrate a slut. That ain’t leadership, Spokes. That’s anal sex.”
“I know, Coach. That ain’t even what happened, you know-“
“So this weekend, you get Tuck to run like I told him to. If that seems difficult, just remember, I got you to agree to train Tuck, and all I had to do was squeeze your balls a bit. That ain’t hard. Tuck got balls you can squeeze too,” Coach Marshall said. He let go of Jimmy’s sac then, and wiped his hand off on Jimmy’s face.
“Yes, Coach,” Jimmy said with a shudder.
“Good. Now bring ‘em in for a break,” Coach Marshall said. “The lacrosse team needs the field for an hour.”
“Yes, Coach.”
They both went back out onto the field. Rob stayed there, buried in jockstraps until he heard footsteps heading towards the locker room. He could hear the lacrosse team as well, but they were in the visitor’s locker room next door.
“I am gonna fill that bitch up till cum be drippin’ down my balls, man!”
“She gonna suck me off too?”
“Fuck yeah, boys!”
“Tuck! You’re on the bottom for a team tackle!” Jimmy barked. His voice was tense and clipped, angry, or at least trying to get his teammates to think he was genuinely angry. “You should have done your runs last weekend.”
“Jimmy, come on! You were there! You can’t get mad at me about it now!”
“I told you to go running! I told you to do that, Tuck!” Jimmy frowned. He frowned, an expression aimed inward as much as at Tuck. He didn’t enjoy being the person who enforced the rules. He glanced over at Rob, who smiled. Jimmy nodded at him. “The little dude can tackle first.” He paused. He lowered his voice and spoke to Rob. “If you don’t mind getting tackled by some big fuckers.”
Rob wanted that more than anything. He ran across the linoleum-tiled floor of the locker room, while the whole team chanted and clapped, all except Tuck, who frowned at Jimmy.
“Tackle him! Tackle him! Tackle him!”
“Tackle-grope!”
Rob jumped onto Tuck’s chest, clutching his torso with his arms and legs. Tuck’s body was slick with sweat, and Rob had to struggle as he started to slide down the moment he connected with Tuck’s bulging muscles. He stuck his tongue out, so as he dragged down Tuck’s body, he got to lick his chest muscles.
Then Tuck sighed, groaned and climbed down to the floor as though he had been tackled — since he outweighed Rob by nearly two hundred pounds, that was the only way Rob could get him on the ground.
“Hell yeah, brought down by a li’l guy, huh, Tuck?”
“Shoulda gone runnin’, man…”
“Stick yo’ fist in his ass! Fist that hillbilly, man! What’s the dude’s name? Rob! Fist him, Rob!”
But before Rob could do anything but lick up all the sweat that had collected between Tuck’s shoulderblades, he oomphed as another football player landed on his back — it was Lake, that six-packed black halfback who didn’t quite jump (thankfully, since Rob’s delicate body would have been shattered) onto the pile, but he did flop rather awkwardly onto Rob’s back.
“Locker room tackle!”
Beneath Rob, Tuck groaned. He squirmed as Rob’s rock-hard cock rubbed against the small of his back, where a pool of sweat had developed. Rob was still clothed, but he wore just a pair of shorts and underwear, and his erection rubbed against the moist muscle of Tuck’s back.
“You got your fist in ‘im yet?” Lake asked with a laugh. He reached his big head down and kissed Tuck on the back of the head, prompting another wiggle from Tuck.
“More tackle!” Jimmy shouted.
“I can take it!” Tuck shouted. “Bring it on!” His voice was strained like he didn’t want to let on how difficult it was to breathe right now.
It wasn’t Jimmy who joined the tackle next, it was someone else — Rob couldn’t see who — and soon there were maybe four players atop Rob, who couldn’t really breathe. He could just barely sputter and take a gasping half-breath.
He didn’t mind though. His cock spasmed and leaked precum, which joined with the sweat in the small of Tuck’s back. “Hurry up and cum if you gonna,” Tuck said weakly.
And then Rob was distracted by Lake’s massive dick — it was still in his shorts, but he had either taken off the jockstrap (which seemed unlikely since somebody would have said something if they saw that) or his dick had popped out of it. Rob could feel Lake’s dick rub against Rob’s asscheeks, then slip into the crack.
Rob groaned. There was a shift in weight above him. He couldn’t see or hear, but it sounded like someone had gotten up, possibly replaced by someone else. Thick fingers even explored Rob’s crotch, apparently in search of Tuck’s ass.
“Gonna finger you, Tuck! But you’s already gettin’ it up the ass from the little guy, ain’t ya?”
“Hey, he is still alive, right? He ain’t crushed to death?”
“Say somethin’ sissy! Lemme hear you lisp!”
“I’m alive…” Rob said weakly. “I’m fine…” For some reason speaking sent a wave of pleasure through Rob, who realized he was going to cum like this whether he wanted to or not. That didn’t need to be too humiliating, since he had a feeling Lake was going to cum also.
“Ah, shit, Lake’s doin’ it, ain’t he?”
“I can’t help it, man, this nigga got balls!” Lake said. His booming voice echoed and resonated in Rob’s lungs, since Lake was pressed down on Rob’s back. It was clear that Lake tried to sound tough and nonplussed by the hundreds of pounds of muscle on his back, like he was dry humping because he wanted to and not because he was so young and horny he couldn’t resist.
Lake’s dark muscles writhed. His hips flexed the best he could, since he was in the middle of the tackle. He moaned, the sound making the hairs on the back of Rob’s neck stand up. The other guys in the tackle — who were all above Lake — laughed like this was a prank they were playing.
“Cum in Tuck’s ass, Lake! Teach him a lesson!”
If Tuck knew what was happening, he didn’t let on. He wiggled beneath Rob. Lake’s dick was right on Rob’s ass. The other team kept implying Lake could ram Tuck, but he couldn’t even if he wanted to and was able to move, because Rob was in the way. Rob couldn’t penetrate Tuck’s ass either, because he wasn’t positioned right on his asscrack and he couldn’t move with all the football players weighing him down.
In the end, Lake even came right before Rob, and it was the feeling of his hot, cum-soaked shorts dripping onto Rob’s back that sent Rob over the edge. The smell of cum filled the air. Rob spasmed and would have squirmed, but the only part of his body that could move at all were his fingers, which dug into the meat of Tuck’s body. Rob filled his own shorts with jizz, and some of it escaped the fabric, smearing up and down Tuck’s asscrack. Some of it must have gone into his butthole too, and still more trickled down between his legs to puddle up on the locker room floor.
“Ew, gross, he doin’ it!”
“He just want a big tip from the dude.”
“He gonna get the tip. Just the tip.”
Lake groaned. “Shut the fuck up!” His voice was weak now, having used all his energy to shout before and then cum into the messy tackle. He struggled to breathe under the weight of his own teammates.
Had anyone even realized that Rob himself had cum? He didn’t really think so. No one mentioned it. Tuck didn’t react as though a guy had dry-humped his ass until his cummy shorts left a layer of sperm on Tuck’s plump cheeks.
One by one, the football players climbed off the tackle pile. When Lake stood, his shorts were soaked. He pumped his biceps and his pecs, beaming at the assembled jocks. He swayed his hips, making that massive cock flop back and forth in his goopy shorts.
“Ew, nasty, man, you just dry-humped a man!”
“Why do you always cum in a locker room tackle?”
“Man, fuck you!” Lake said. “I cum whenever I want, man.” He grabbed his soaked cock through his shorts, so his shaft was outlined by the fabric. He reached into his shorts, stroked his dick one time so his hand was covered in cum, then tried to touch one of his teammates on the face.
“Get away from me, man!”
“C’m’ere, ain’t you wanna feel me, dawg? C’mon!” Lake cackled. He was so focused on that — Rob was positive Lake had cum despite his best efforts not to and was trying to cover it up with bluster and bullying his teammates — that Lake barely noticed Rob drop to his knees.
He had already cum, so when Rob pulled his shorts down and kissed his dick, Lake was startled and jumped. He grinned at the sensations arising from his sensitive shaft. Rob licked his dick from tip to root, lapping up every drop of cum he could access.
“Holy hell, the white dude really loves my cock.”
Lake writhed like it hurt. His massive dick was big even though it was limp, and Rob could feel how sensitive it was. He kept stroking it, even as Lake winced and shut his eyes. His muscles all flexed. He sat down on the bench as though he had planned to, but it was clear in the way his dick throbbed that he found this too exquisitely sensitive to remain standing while Rob lapped at his dick.
“Hey, you gonna jerk us all off, man?”
“Yeah… I mean… I got a girl, I don’t need it.”
“Me too. I get plenty of girls. But, y’know… If you wanted to…”
“He is payin’ money. We want him to get his money’s worth.”
Rob stood and held up his hand for silence. He felt good and exulted in their quietude and attention — he rarely felt like the center of attention around men like them.
“I’m not going to jerk you off,” Rob said. “But if you want to turn my throat into your pussy-” He laid on the back on the edge of the bench, so his head was angled over the corner. That put his face just below a low-hanging pair of sweaty balls — he couldn’t even tell whose because the jocks were crammed in so close together. He lifted his mouth up and suckled on them for just a second, prompting a chorus of nervous giggles. “I would be open to that. Why don’t I just lay here with my mouth open? You all can put whatever body part you want in there.”
It was Tuck who went first, like he wanted to reclaim his masculinity after the locker room tackle and being dry-humped. He stretched his muscles, smiled cockily and flopped his limp dick onto Rob’s face.
“Holy shit, I ain’t know he was gonna do that.”
“Is this a bukkake thing?”
“Bukkake the little dude!”
“You really into sweat?” Tuck asked. “Cuz I think I’m covered in all these motherfuckers’ sweat. Here…” He got down on his knees and lifted up his right arm. The overwhelmingly potent scent of his armpit assaulted Rob’s senses. He sniffed it loudly, and planted his face right there in the crook of his arm. Tuck guffawed as though he hadn’t expected Rob to actually do it.
As sweat coated Rob’s tongue and he gurgled, he lazily flopped his own dick between his fingers. He had already cum, but he had a feeling he would do it again if these football players all decided to bukkake him.
And then the hair of Tuck’s armpit was replaced by his fat cock. It slipped into his mouth, already hard, bulging, precum flowing over Rob’s tongue. He gurgled.
“Damn, this is nasty!”
“Paint his face white!”
“I got the cock you need, man,” said Jimmy, who clapped his hands and yelled at the others to shut up. Once he had silence, he dropped his jockstrap and placed it right on Rob’s nose, so Tuck’s balls slapped on it each time he humped his dick into Rob’s throat. Jimmy stood there, resplendent like a Greek god, his blond hair sweaty and matted to his head. He had a huge cock which he jutted forward to be sure everyone could see. “And this sissy made me promise to ram him in the ass. He said he needed the biggest cock on the team, or else there’d be no deal and none of us would’ve made a hundred bucks today…” He sighed dramatically.
None of that was true, but Rob didn’t intend to correct him. His mouth was full, for one thing, and he desperately wanted to get it up the ass. Jimmy hung his head as though being forced to do this as he straddled the bench and had Rob lift his legs up.
“You can do it, Jimmy!
“Takin’ one for the team, huh?”
“Bullshit, man, you guys see this, right? He wants to do it. Don’t make it seem like he’s sacrificin’ nothin’. He’s gettin’ booty. That ain’t a fuckin’ gift to us.”
“You wanna ram him, man?”
“No, I got girls beggin’ me to fuck ‘em. Mad pussy, yo! I’m just sayin’, anyone on this team would be doing it if that’s what the little dude wanted. It ain’t a big deal. We already all did it.”
That argument continued, but Rob was distracted. Two things happened at once, both of which were so huge and even difficult that Rob struggled to follow what was happening. First, Jimmy slid his dick in — it was clear he had a lot less experience with this than he had let on, he just forced it in and if Rob didn’t love being cornholed, it would have hurt a great deal — and he began humping Rob wildly. He showed off for his teammates by using all of his muscles when he stuck his dick into Rob. Secondly, Tuck groaned and came. That happened so suddenly that Rob didn’t even realize it wasn’t precum until Tuck was finishing up.
His load coated Rob’s tongue and the back of his mouth. It trickled down his throat. The intensely salty flavor assaulted Rob’s senses, mixing with the potent sweat that still filled his mouth.
“Fuck yeah! Gonna fill ya up, huh? You getting your money’s worth, ain’t ya?!” Tuck pumped his biceps as he rubbed his cock and balls over Rob’s face. “You sure you like this? It’s so fuckin’ nasty.”
Before Tuck could pull away, another player, George, had taken his place. His long, thick cock was already hard, and he must have been jacking off because he was already throbbing, his orgasm gathering like an approaching thunderstorm. Rob could feel it in his dick’s spasms in Rob’s throat.
He didn’t seem to notice that Rob had spat up most of Tuck’s cum. It flowed over the new cock in his mouth — that was a fullback named Will. Will had been the most popular football jock in his high school and had been annoyed that here at GHU, he was just another athlete, not even a first-stringer. He bragged about getting girls just like the other athletes, but he had only had sex with one girl since coming to college, and she wasn’t even very hot.
As Will sprayed his wad over Rob’s face, Rob sensed another player approaching him, the kicker Étienne. He was a Haitian immigrant, his upper body wiry, his lower half thick like a much larger man, and his trunk-like thigh muscles positively glowed because of the palm butter he rubbed into his skin every day. He masturbated into his own hand, looking at the naked pictures of girls in his locker. He sprayed his load into the palm of his hand.
He had planned on wiping all that cum off on Rob’s face, but when he was ready, his dark brown palm covered in goopy white cum, he didn’t want to touch him there. So he held his hand in front of Rob’s face — Rob was in between cocks at the time, Will having finished and two guys jousted near his face before Etienne pushed in front of them — and tipped his palm down. His cum stuck to his skin, but Rob raised his tongue and sucked it all off. He wanted to grab Etienne’s fingers and suck them each, maybe even play with that long, uncut cock. But he sensed that Etienne would have been uncomfortable with that.
“Don’t be squeamish, hoss! It’s just a little cum on yer balls!”
“Yeah, when we gangbanged that fat bitch, ain’t you get some cum on your dick then?
“Real men don’t care ‘bout that shit!”
Etienne was the only person who refused to participate. As those two players finished up in Rob’s mouth, jousting and denying how uncomfortable they were with it, Rob started stroking off whatever cocks he could grab.
Soon cum dripped in clumps off his face, and there was a puddle on the floor beneath his head. Rob was overwhelmed by pleasure as Jimmy’s cock began to tickle his prostate — Jimmy was so inexperienced at this that it took this long for him to get the hang of it.
Jimmy had been swearing to his teammates all year that he would fuck any female who gave up the ass. He said he refused to accept any girlfriend that didn’t let him in the ass. That means they’re not really on the pill, guys, that means they’re trying to trap you. He said he got every girl he dated to give up the booty, but Rob knew that wasn’t true. He shouldn’t have expected it to be true, since Jimmy had a massive cock — there were few women of any age or level of sluttitude who would be willing to take that it in the ass.
Rob’s ass was, in fact, only the second ass that Jimmy had ever penetrated, and he was the first whom Jimmy successfully fucked in the ass. His previous girlfriend had made him stop with less than a third of his dick inside her, and then she had frustrated him by refusing to let him in her pussy or mouth either because his dick smelled like ass. Jimmy had been so frustrated he beat up a couple of nerds on the way back to his dorm, then had angrily jacked himself off to Internet porn.
A Polynesian wide receiver named Poahi was the next to really ram Rob’s face. He alone had no compunctions about this whatsoever — on his home island in Samoa, there was a football coach who frequently jerked his players off. That was an expected, normal part of life for rugby jocks in Samoa. Poahi had been surprised to learn that didn’t happen in America.
So he alone made love to Rob’s face. The others didn’t want to touch Rob any more than necessary, but Poahi didn’t care. His planted his uncut cock in Rob’s throat, letting his balls drag over Rob’s nose and make a mess of the soup of loads he had taken on his face so far. Poahi smeared around the jizz with his fingers.
“Gonna paint yo’ balls white, Poahi!”
Someone shot their load right on Poahi’s balls. Most of the cum dripped down onto Rob’s face and forehead, and the entire team erupted in nervous laughter. The salty creaminess of whoever’s cum made Rob moan around the shaft of Polynesian meat throbbing in his throat.
“Let’s bukkake his sac!”
They had started off this day thinking that Rob would just lick their biceps and jack off in the hamper as he sniffed their jockstraps. Then they had accepted a little more contact, and a little more, and then they had agreed to bukkake him.
“I’m gonna nut on his ear, man, let’s drown that little guy!”
But now the remaining players were trying to make this as gross as possible, just to see if they could — none of them wanted to be the squeamish one who backed out. Poahi remained dick-deep in Rob’s throat, his heavy body leaning forward so there was plenty of room for the other players to cum on his massive ballsack.
All Rob could see was that scrotum, and all he could smell was football sweat. Poahi had always preferred American football to rugby, and he had been overjoyed to be accepted by an American university. He could have played professional rugby, but the Samoan team was barely paid anything. He hoped to make it into the NFL, and he really didn’t see why the other players reacted like it was weird for him to allow them all to cum on his balls.
“His throat feels like a nice, smooth pussy,” Poahi said, shrugging at this teammates, who were shocked at how little disgust he had with the situation.
Finally there were maybe fifteen loads on Poahi’s scrotum. It felt like another whole layer of flesh, like the cum that stuck to his hairy skin was palpably heavy. He pulled his dick out and plopped his balls in Rob’s mouth before Rob could even take a deep breath.
That was it for both Poahi and Jimmy, who reached orgasm as his cock tickled Rob’s prostate. Rob tasted an explosion of cum like he had never experienced before, as fifteen loads landed on his tongue at once, and a sixteenth erupted on his face at the same time from one of the backup tight ends who had been waiting for his turn.
Poahi moaned and felt up his massive pecs, while his low-hanging balls overflowed from Jimmy’s mouth. Poahi had always loved it when women handled his sensitive sac, and he groaned. His nipples were hard beneath his fingers. Rob tried to jack him off as he sucked on Poahi’s balls, but it was difficult because Poahi was simply huge — at more than seven feet tall and four hundred pounds, he was so wide that Jimmy could barely reach around his waist to stroke his dick.
He was also distracted by Jimmy, who groaned as he shot his load inside Rob’s ass. Jimmy’s handsome face tensed up, and his muscles flexed — he was momentarily self-conscious as the team cheered him on, and he felt tiny in comparison to Poahi.
“Ram his ass, Jimmy! Destroy it! Show him who’s boss!”
Poahi exclaimed in Samoan. Cum spurted out of Poahi uncut cock and coated Rob’s fingers, spraying over Rob’s chest, as his balls rose up in his sac in Rob’s mouth. Poahi shifted awkwardly, moaning. Since Rob had trouble reaching his dick, it was an uncomfortably intense orgasm, Poahi struggling and squirming, dragging his cum-soaked ballsack over Rob’s face.
Meanwhile hot cum flowed into his ass. Jimmy grunted and clapped. He made sure to pull his dick out all the way so everyone could see how big it was — it was even bigger than Poahi’s, which Jimmy was proud of and he wanted everyone to know it since he had a feeling most of them just assumed that a beefy giant like Poahi must have a beefy giant cock.
Intense pleasure shuddered through Jimmy’s body. He shot a gigantic load that filled up Rob’s tight ass. Jimmy kept plowing back and forth and laughed as he did, and his teammates slapped him on the ass. Jimmy tried to pretend his orgasm wasn’t as intense as it really was because he didn’t want to seem inexperienced.
“Naasty…”
“This locker room is gross. Smells like a fuckin’ brothel. Smells like that fat chicks sorority house.”
“Hell yeah! We should go over there later.”
At last it was over. Most of the players had already wandered off to the showers. Practice wasn’t over, but they were sweaty, covered in each other’s sweat, and most of them had at least one person’s cum dripping from their body. So while the lacrosse team was still on the field, they went in for a quick shower.
“How was that, man?” Jimmy asked as the other players filed out.
“Amazing,” Rob said. His voice was weak and wavery. It was almost four o’clock. That was as far as he had paid for, so it was about time for him to leave.
“You done?”
“Yeah,” Rob said. “Is it okay if I just lay here for a bit? I’m not sure I can get up right now.”
Jimmy snickered. “Oh? Did I ram you too good?”
“You did it just right,” Rob said with a giggle. “But yes. Besides, maybe somebody will want some one on one attention when they’re done showering.”
Rob Winthrop invites a hundred big black thugs with big black meat to give him a big black experience! This is a once-in-a-lifetime no-holes-barred event he’ll never forget!
Read the whole thing here!
Rob Winthrop started getting nervous as he always did, when the guys filed in one by one to what Rob had called a “physique appreciation event”. A raucous pit of butterflies fluttered in his belly as the convention center filled up with men. There were a hundred of them, all swaggering thugs who concealed their own anxiety as well — Rob could sense it in the way they avoided eye contact with anyone and shuffled forward in line. They each carried with them the appropriate paperwork.
101 happened to be the fire marshall’s stated capacity for the convention hall, so it was packed tight with no room to spare, especially since part of the room was set off with a large table for them place their clothes on. When Rob instructed them to remove their clothing and get ready, they grumbled.
“Yo, when we gettin’ paid?”
“You best not stiff us, whiteman!”
Rob held up his hands for silence, his heart thumping. He had specifically sought actual thugs, not just thug-acting men — everyone here had a criminal record. There were robbers, muggers, home-invaders, drug dealers, pimps and even two convicted murderers. “No worries, no worries, I will pay all of you. I’ve got the first hundred dollars right here, you can take it when you get started. You understand the rules, right?”
“Yessuh!”
“We do it, fo’ real, man, don’t worry ‘bout that. I ‘xpect to get paid, mothafuckah.” They all laughed and slapped hands with each other.
“I’mma do this propuh, nigga!”
“Wreck that whitey!”
Rob grinned. They were enthusiastic again, and they started to take off their clothes. He re-explained the rules just in case they had forgotten. They were each required to ram him, ideally in both the mouth and ass, though a few had refused that and Rob allowed it anyway. Most of them agreed to do whatever else he wanted short of him penetrating them. They got a hundred dollars no matter what. But if the whole group — which included members of several rival gangs — succeeded in remaining peaceful the entire time, they’d each be paid a thousand dollars instead.
This would not be the first time Rob had paid more than a hundred grand for one physique appreciation event. He had plenty of money from the family business and his trust fund. He couldn’t imagine anything he’d rather spend his fortune on than this. His smooth twink body gleamed in the harsh light of the hotel convention hall, and he kept his hips angled to give a feminine curve to his body.
“Yo, whiteman, we gonna destroy dat ass! You know dat, right?”
“You ain’t gonna walk fo’ a week, man!”
Rob smiled. “That’s the plan, gentlemen.” He chuckled, and they all laughed, their deep and gravelly voices ringing out in the convention hall. The smell of bare balls and even a few drops of precum filled the air — someone must have been real horny, Rob thought, or just loved gangbangs so much he was already hard. A scent of malt liquor was noticeable too, suggesting a few of them had gotten drunk before coming in.
The person who got fully naked first was named Nathaniel Simpel, but he went by the name ‘Truck’. He was eager to get naked because he felt confident that he would have the biggest dick here and, he thought to himself, being the biggest-dicked-nigga at a hundred-man gangbang was really something to be proud of.
So he made sure to get undressed first. Then Truck turned around, standing next to Rob and waving his fat cock between his fingers — that way all the other thugs could see his gigantic meat, which swung between his legs and reached almost all the way to his knees. The chains around his neck jangled like Mr. T. He stayed like that, dick out where every nigga here gotta see it, as he thwacked it back and forth between his thighs.
“Yo, fo’ a thousand dollars,” Truck said, “I can guarantee we gonna stay peaceful long enough to bust a nut.” He laughed, a deep, booming barrel laugh that forced his shoulders back and his hips forward, flapping his fourteen-inch hog towards the other thugs.
Rob handed over the initial payment of a hundred dollars before he grabbed Truck’s fat cock. He gave it a long stroke, and Truck sighed in a highly exaggerated way, prompting laughs from the other men.
“Damn, nigga…”
“He into that, Truck is like that…”
Truck bristled and sucked on his teeth. They all looked at his cock, and a lot of them were hesitant to get naked now. Truck didn’t know that Rob had ensured all one hundred men were of appropriate quality — many of them were used to being the biggest man in any room, so seeing Truck’s legendary meat made them nervous, but everyone there had at least a foot of cock. That was another of Rob’s rules.
“Smells like ballsweat in here.”
“He playin’ wit’ that nigga dick.”
“Can you back up, nigga? Yo’ dick is touchin’ my leg…” There was some grumbling from the men now that they were naked. They were crammed in so close together that they were all over each other, limp cocks and hard muscles rubbing against each other as they pushed in closer to watch the action.
“You scared of my big meat touchin’ ya, huh? Don’t worry, he don’t bite. He treat you right if you just bend over, nigguh…”
“I swear to god, nigga, if you touch my dick one more time, I will lay you out!”
“Hey! No fightin’! All you niggas shut the fuck up. We all crammed into a li’l place, we all gonna be touching each other’s dicks. We all know that was gonna happen. Just chill out. None of us here is gonna ramrod no nigga. We ain’t in prison…” There was some tittering laughter, but aside from some grumbling here and there, the arguments more or less stopped.
Opening his mouth to tease the tip, Rob started slurping on the knob of Truck’s dick. It was veiny and so thick it felt like a muscle of its own beneath Rob’s fingers. He licked it and blushed as the watchings thugs whooped and laughed.
“He doin’ it! He handles dick like a slut too…”
“Shiiiiiiit!”
“That honky do it right!”
Rob reached out for another dick, grabbing a long, uncircumcised one. That was Rupert, the only Jamaican out of the one hundred — Rob loved Jamaican mandingos, but it was rare to find one who would ram him.
“Aw, mon…”
Rupert was as reluctant as any Jamaican, but he was desperate for money. He had grown up among American black men, who frequently boasted they didn’t mind being serviced by men, especially for money. So he was possibly the most nervous person here — none of these men would lose their reputations if word got out what they were doing, but Rupert would. He needed to repay some loans, though, so he had little choice. He sneered and looked away — Rob wasn’t even jerking him off yet. He simply thwacked Rupert’s dick against his face and made him joust with Truck. He suckled on both tips, licking both piss-slits.
When Rupert felt precum slide down his cockshaft, he gagged again. His dick was getting hard, which shocked him. He had wondered if he’d be able to perform, but now he had gotten an erection without even sticking his dick in any hole — this boner came from the friction of his dickshaft rubbing against Truck’s cock.
“Yoh buddy come like a… wet sponge, mon,” Rupert said, making some of the other men laugh. It did feel like a very wet sponge, he thought, with just a little give and plenty of moisture collecting on the surface.
Rob sensed that both Rupert and Truck were nervous about jousting. They both jumped when their cocks first collided, but both bristled with machismo. Neither wanted to admit they were self-conscious about it. Rupert especially didn’t want to draw attention to the fact that Truck’s cock was bigger than his or that Truck himself was thicker-bodied and visibly more muscular than Rupert’s lean frame. He closed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest — it was easier when he didn’t have to see Rob suck on him like a sissy boy.
As Rob moved on from playing with both of those dicks to actually sucking on each one in turn, he felt thick, callused fingers lifting his ass into the air. A few of the thugs had said they didn’t want to ram Rob in the ass — Rob normally didn’t allow that; he could find enough men willing to hit him at both ends that he didn’t need to compromise — but in the end Rob had made some exceptions.
Luckily for him, one thug in particular was Samson Miles, who loved ass no matter who he had to ram. He was a middle-aged and massive, broad-shouldered thug with dark brown skin, a thick mustache and a deep, booming voice. He was grizzled like a shaved bear, with a deep and penetrating stare. Rob had found him as he walked out of prison a few days ago.
“Gonna plow you like a fuckin’ ox,” Samson said, laughing at himself. He was one of the few men besides Rob who got that “plow” and “ox” was wordplay, as he spent his incarceration reading, instead of chasing honeybuns and twink butt. His dick — just as long as Truck but not quite as thick — was already hard, and he guided it in without compunctions. He had been eager to get started. “See, nigga? This is how you do it! This is how you do it!”
In Samson’s eyes, he directed his words at Rico, a young prettyboy who been complaining about Samson’s jacking off — he was briefly in prison alongside Samson and was released yesterday with him. Rico was too nervous to pay much attention though, so he didn’t even realize Samson directed his words Rico’s way. At the state prison, most men messed with a few times, and Rico was no exception. But most of them had the decency to be ashamed of it. They didn’t bring it up, and they didn’t do it in public. They did it in hidden shadowy corners, or they set up a sheet as a curtain in their cell before getting started.
Samson, however, had never had any reluctance at all. He loved booty, and he didn’t really care whose ass he stuck his meat in. He slammed his dick into Rob’s ass, making a game of it as he tried to thrust so hard Rob couldn’t concentrate on the cock in his mouth. All Rob could do was keep his mouth open and let each nigga take a few turns on his throat.
“You like me in yo’ ass, sissy? Huh? I bet you do. I feel you, boy. I feel you good. I know you tryin’-a get my nut. Don’t you worry, boy, I won’t deny you dat. No way. Ol’ Samson gonna fill you up like a whore. You wanna be Samson’s whore? Course you do, boy. E’ry sissy wanna be my cumdump.”
Samson also didn’t see any reason to hold back from cumming. He had barely gotten started before he felt his orgasm approaching, and he wasn’t about to slow down — after all, if he didn’t cum now, he would have to do it after some other guys did. Samson didn’t mind having sloppy-seconds, or even tenths or whatever, but he would rather be the one who makes the seconds sloppy.
“Gonna make you real sloppy, sissy. Real sloppy.”
So when he came, he grabbed ahold of Rob’s hair, lifting his head up. Rob flailed and gripped tattooed brown muscles all around him, but the sensations were too intense for him to stroke. It was all he could do to moan and groan while Samson’s thick body rippled against Rob’s smooth back.
Cum sprayed into Rob’s ass, at the same time that someone else finally finished on Rob’s face. So he savored the flavor as his mouth filled up, and cum flowed into his ass. It tasted thick and buttery, its heat seeping into his skin. Since he couldn’t concentrate, Rob didn’t swallow. Semen dripped out past his lips and coated his cheeks and chin.
“Ah, damn, now we gettin’ into it. We broke the cumdump in…”
Samson was just as nasty — he laughed as the other niggas told him to stop, to let them take a turn. Someone even tapped him lightly on the ass, his plump cheeks jiggling, like he was a tag-team wrestler whose partner wanted in.
But Samson didn’t want to give up his turn yet. He wanted to leave his mark. His deep, booming laughter echoed as he kept on humping his now-limp dick in Rob’s tender ass. That had the effect of making his load into a big frothy mess. It trickled out of Rob’s hole through the sides of Samson’s dick, and then when he finally pulled out, huge bubbling clumps of cum flowed out. It coated Rob’s asscrack in Samson’s creamy seed.
“There, niggas. Them seconds is real sloppy,” Samson said, laughing as the others groaned in disgust.
Someone else finished on Rob’s face. Now that his ass was empty again — however briefly — Rob managed to swallow it deep. He savored the cummy flavor flowing over his tongue, and he let most of it drip out past his lips to make a bigger mess on his face.
The second man in his ass must have been stroking himself off hard, Rob thought, because he came right away. Another thug pushed nakedly through the crowd, his erect cock throbbing. “Outta my way, niggas, outta my way, I’m gonna blow-” and he didn’t quite make it in time. The first wad of his nut hit another thug on the thigh, but the rest made it onto Rob’s face, where is smeared over the trio of cocks there at the moment.
“You nutted on my leg, nigga!” someone roared.
A fight nearly broke out. There was some confusion about who had cum on whom — or maybe several people had accidentally done the same thing, Rob couldn’t even tell how many loads he had taken yet.
“Yo, no fightin’!”
“If you make us lose this thousand dollars, nigga… I swear to God!”
“What?! Try somethin’, nigga!”
But the older and cooler heads among them prevailed. It helped that all of the gangs represented here had a few leaders who could provide order and ensure peace, and Rob had promised those leaders an extra thousand dollars — to be disbursed later, when no one else was around — if they made sure the gangbang went smoothly.
Rob was surprised at how quickly they reached orgasm as they went, and how many of them came mainly from masturbating. A lot of them must have been watching intently and getting hard even though there were no women around — and Rob had forbidden porn from the scene.
Two thugs came at the same time in his mouth, the salty-sweet flavor of their cum distracting him from his thoughts. Rob guzzled it all down but made sure to play with both dicks too, so a lot of that cum covered their shafts before he sucked it back into his mouth. Those two thugs were Gariah and Bammy, a pair of identical twins. They specialized in gangbanging girls, just the two of them, and cumming simultaneously — they had initially tried it on a dare (and had been unsuccessful at timing it on that first occasion), but now managed to do it with every girlfriend either one had.
“Damn, simultaneous nuts! That was impressive, niggas.”
The pain in his ass went away as another fat cock slipped in his ass. The stout, tattooed thug who did that — Uggs was what he went by — groaned in disgust as cum leaked out and coated his dick and fingers. But it didn’t slow him down at all, and the cum probably helped, Rob thought, because it was an effective lube.
As Uggs approached his own orgasm, a thug named Sharnell appeared suddenly. He tried to ram his dick in as though Rob might get double-penetrated, but both dicks were way too big for that. So he just jabbed his cock in the direction of Rob’s ass, spraying his sudden cumload onto Ham’s cock.
“Oh, nigga! Why the fuck would you do that?”
“I dunno, man,” Sharnell said with a sheepish chuckle. “I wanted to cum in his ass and… I guess I got… y’know, confused…”
“You thought my dick was his asshole?” Uggs asked to assorted laughter. It looked like he was about to add something else, but he groaned and his eyes fluttered. He sprayed his own load into Rob’s guts, pulling out and letting another thug — Delroy — plump right in before Rob’s asshole had a chance to relax.
“Ugh, sloppy fifty-thirds…?”
“Somethin’ like that, at least fifty! How’s that feel? Huh, nigga? Yo’ dick be swimmin’ in cum!”
Delroy groaned like he was disgusted, but it didn’t slow him down any. “Don’t care, nigga, I love booty!” He play-kissed the air and laughed, as he plunged his cock into Rob’s moist, meaty goodness, and he laughed nervously when a great ball of filthy cum splashed up onto his ballsack.
Then another thug got involved — at first it looked as though he and Delroy might argue over Rob’s ass. But then they decided to take turns. Delroy mounted Rob from up high, while the other thug kneeled behind him. They each pushed their dick in once, then watched the other do so, frothing up all those loads and laughing at the mess they made.
Finally the both of them finished, spraying their loads onto Rob’s asshole just as a third nigga came out of nowhere to do the same. They all clasped hands and cheered each other on, no longer bothering to try to avoid splashback from each other’s loads. The prissiest men had cum first, probably, and a handful had simply jacked themselves off and cum on Rob — disappointing, but Rob wasn’t expecting them all to actually follow through. If all one hundred men took five minutes each, Rob would have to spend more than eight hours on this, and not even Rob’s ass could take that much punishment.
“Damn, let’s make this sissy the nastiest! Lookit that! I ain’t nevuh seen no female get this nasty!”
A lot of the finished guys held their clothes in their hands. They had all wanted to get dressed, but the first few niggas to finish stayed naked, watching intently, and the others just wanted to fit in. Nobody wanted to be the one who was so self-conscious he couldn’t handle being naked among the others.
They crammed in close to watch as the last few thugs finished cumming all over Rob. Their cocks rubbed against each other, leaving behind a residue of anal juices, cum and saliva. About half of them didn’t notice the dickmeat brushing up against each other, and the other half could think of nothing else.
Rob barely even noticed the final man approach. He was Tyrell, and he went last because he had bragged that he could. He didn’t meant to actually say he wanted to — what had happened was simply that he boasted how much of a horny mandingo he was, and the others had taken that at face value. Tyrell said he would ram anyone, in any hole, anytime, because he was a “real nigga” and “real niggas blow loads!”
When the others had teased him about going last, Tyrell instinctively agreed without thinking about it. That was not the first time he had mistakenly agreed to something due to his bravado, but, he thought as he approached Rob’s ass, this might be the worst time.
“Splash in!”
“Sloppy seventy-sevenths, nigga!!”
Tyrell bit his lip and slipped his cock in. When he was in prison last year, he had ramrodded a man several times. He had sloppy seconds once, and it was revolting. The other inmates teased him when he backed out and made the bottom wash up first, so Tyrell had changed his mind and slammed his meat into Rob’s ass so quickly that a big bubble of frothy cum had come up and popped. That had covered Tyrell’s crotch in sticky-white cum. He gagged then, but the other inmates clasped him on the back and encouraged him. ‘That’s how we do in this cell, baby! We get nasty!’ Tyrell had been proud of himself then. He even bragged about it to his father when he came for a visit, though his dad had smacked Tyrell in the face and told him “real niggas get nasty behind bars, but they don’t tell no one about it. What happens in there, stays in there.”
Tyrell gagged again at the feel of sticky cum dripping over his cock like alien goop. He was half-hard, hard enough he should be able to stick it in Rob’s ass, but he was nervous about touching so much cum. He didn’t know how many niggas had cum inside Rob, but it was at least fifty, probably more.
He tried to avoid using his hands, but his dick was not hard enough to just ram it in. He gingerly touched Rob’s cum-dripping asscheeks to pull them apart. There was so much cum there it was a bubbling out, no doubt making little fart-like noises though no one could hear that over the sound of niggas cheering.
“Get nasty, Tyrell!”
He took a deep breath and used his hand to guide it in. He gagged again but covered it up with a cough so no one knew how nervous he was. He prayed that he wouldn’t lose his erection. He couldn’t believe that he had agreed to go last — why didn’t he realize how gross this would be at the time? Of course the last nigga in a hundred-man slamfest was gonna get a nasty, loose asshole.
And it was loose. If it weren’t for the clumps of cum, Tyrell might have barely even felt the sides of Rob’s asshole. But as it was, he was just horny enough to stay hard as he forced his dick in. Great gobs of cum dripped from his fingers.
“Ah, shit, nigga, that is the most disgusting thing I evuh seen!”
Tyrell cheered. He liked hearing men clap and hoot at him. He knew they were teasing him, but he had always found that the best way to get past that was to pretend you loved whatever they teased you about. He grinned and growled. He even pounded on his chest, making his muscles jiggle as his hands dripped semen all over his dark brown flesh.
Finally, when he was on the verge of cumming, Tyrell groaned. He yelped as Rob pulled away from him, and his cock was temporarily visible to everyone — he had a big, brown veiny shaft that no one could see because it was coated in santorum. Dingy white cum, its pearlescence obviated by the anal juices mixed in, dripped off and onto the ground as his dick vibrated.
“Ah, shit, lookit that nasty meat!”
“That is one slutty sissy!”
Tyrell’s dick was only bare for a half a second or so, but that was enough time for everyone to see it. Tyrell himself gagged at the sight of his own meat soaked in other niggas’s cum. Seconds later, Rob turned around and licked a clean stripe on the underside of Tyrell’s dick.
The taste of ass-and-cum overwhelmed Rob’s senses. He groaned and moaned, letting out such a cringingly potent sound that everyone fell silent as they watched. The thugs leaned in, coming closer together, so everyone’s bare crotches and sweaty, gleaming muscles rubbed against each other.
“Ah shit, a champion slut for the ages!”
“You should teach my whores how to be this nasty, boy. You could give lessons and shit…”
“Ass-to-mouth! Ass-to-mouth!”
Rob licked every inch of Tyrell’s incredible meat. It tasted so bad and so good at the same time that Rob wished he had made them all do ass-to-mouth. He deep-throated that assy cock as he felt Tyrell’s balls crawl up in his sac.
After getting ninety-nine loads all over his body, Rob wanted to swallow this one. He moaned and gripped Tyrell’s asscheeks so tightly Tyrell couldn’t pull away if he wanted to. Tyrell’s massive dick throbbing in Rob’s throat before he finally shot his load.
His dick was aimed right down Rob’s gullet, so Rob didn’t taste any of that cum at first — he still tasted all the other cum that stuck to Tyrell’s cockshaft, but the actual fresh load was spurted too deep down his throat to taste it. Instead he felt it flow into his stomach, settling into a tight, warm, savory ball of lust deep in his belly.
“Oh, yeah, whiteboy, that is the way to do it…” Tyrell said with a moan, forgetting his anxiety about getting so much cum all over his body.
He kept on spraying. He leaned his head back and smiled at his fellow thugs as he finally finished, leaving his limp dick in place until every last drop was in Rob’s stomach. Then he pulled out, and Rob gagged again as that shiny shaft plopped out of his mouth.
“Hell yeah, nigga! You got him good!”
“Where’s our money? Huh, sissy?! We ain’t fight! We did what we s’sposed to,” someone shouted indignantly. Rob couldn’t see who that was, but whoever it was sounded annoyed that Rob hadn’t already given out the thousand dollars.
“Relax, relax,” Rob said, holding hands up for silence. “I haven’t even finished swallowing yet, chill out. I’ve got a thousand dollars for each of you. Why don’t you get dressed and form a line right here?” He leaned back and sighed.
They cheered and clapped their hands, waving their bare cocks in his direction. When this began, it was obvious who was in which gang because they clustered together. But now, that was no longer the case. They had seemingly forgotten about their differences and were lining up. They didn’t even notice that Rob had told them to get dressed first. Most of them were in line already, still stark naked.
That was fine with Rob, who stretched as he stood on his sore knees. Everywhere he looked were naked thugs, and he was already wondering if he could get any more action out of them.
He decided not to do that because it would take too long. He paid them with an app, of course, as he was definitely not bringing a hundred grand in cash to this event. As his phone whirred and worked, each thug had stand there while Rob paid him using one hand, his other hand caressing their muscles and their limp dicks.
All in all, it took nearly two hours to pay them all off, and by the time he was done, Rob was just about ready to go again. He smiled and leaned back in his chair.
Maybe I’ll do rednecks next, Rob thought. He had passed a trailer park on the way into Detroit, and that had looked promising. But first he wanted to simply sit back and finish basking in his post-orgasm glow.
And then he’d head over to the trailer park to get started.
Avery is at a bachelor party when the others guys all go off with a ho. He’s not interested, but the pimp Slim Jay has something for everyone… even when that something is an anatomically gifted alpha male gangsta willing to bend over and let this twink climb on top!
Can Avery find satisfaction from Slim Jay’s diverse stable?
Read the whole thing here!
Avery was embarrassed for himself because he assumed Slim Jay was a mugger at first. Luckily he didn’t respond based on that assumption, so no one knew what he thought.
He and the rest of Jinky’s bachelor party had stumbled out of Lipsweet, a strip club in Lawndale, Chicago. They were all in high spirits, even Avery who thought he’d hate that part of the evening. He was not into strippers. It was fun enough though, and the other partygoers bought Avery a bunch of drinks. That was good, because cash was strapped right now.
The fresh air was cold and invigorating, but it came with a brisk wind that soon made it uncomfortable. Avery did not like the Chicago weather. It was only October, and it already felt like February. The men he was partying with, including the soon-to-be groom Jinky, were drunk, most of them drunker than Avery. They were loud and rambunctious. That soon dwindled though, once they were out of the strip club.
When they made it around the corner, Slim Jay was waiting. He shook hands with Jinky, while Avery reached for his wallet before realizing that this was not a mugging.
Slim Jay was a pimp. He had dark brown skin, a clean-shaven chin beneath his handsome face, which was marred by a scar — which looked recent — that stretched almost to one eye, like someone had attempted to gouge out his eye. He wore a violet suit and a yellow tie, with a purple hat and white belt, and somehow the clashing colors all worked on his muscular frame. He was flanked by a bevy of beautiful women in slutty clothes.
“Alright, gentlemen,” he said. “Step right up and pick the female of yo’ choosing. It’s all been paid for. Y’all got the bachelor party package. Congrats to the lucky groom. You pick first.” He nodded to Jinky.
The guys all jostled, confused at first, then excited. The best man had paid for this, that was why he was making smirky comments about “not nutting in your pants before the afterparty” all night. What was even the point of all the lapdances then? Avery rolled his eyes. They could have seen a show or gone to a nice restaurant and still fucked these cheap-ass whores all night. Or for an hour or two, since Avery doubted that these women were paid enough to spend a whole night with every man here.
Well, every man minus one. Avery didn’t intend to do it.
The others all paired off with a girl, and they headed in giggley pairs to a cheap motel across the street, the Top Inn. Jinky himself went first and got two beautiful girls, the two cleanest-looking ones in the group. That was apparently part of the ‘bachelor party package’ that the pimp had offered.
Awkward and nervous, Avery hung around until the end. It seemed they were all so excited to get laid after hours of being blue-balled in the strip club that none of Avery’s friends noticed he was left last. Finally there were only two girls left, one rather fat and the other horse-faced, which was presumably why they had been last to be chosen.
“Well? Pick one, honky,” Slim Jay said when Avery was the only one left. “I ain’t got all night.”
“Oh, uh… No, thanks. I’m uh…” Avery blushed. “No, thank you.”
“He don’t wanna, Slim Jay,” said the fat one with a chuckle. “Ain’t you see that? He got a wrist limp as a dead snake, and-“
“Shut up, Bethlyn,,” Slim Jay said. He peered closely at Avery.
“No offense, it’s just not my thing. I don’t sleep with prostitutes. I’m not even… I didn’t even get any lapdances in there. Well, one, but that wasn’t my choice,” Avery said. “I’m friends with Jinky from where he used to work, I don’t even know most of those guys-“
“Shut up,” Slim Jay said. He stroked his chin. “You like my hos?”
“Uh… Not… in a sexual way,” Avery said. “They’re cool and all.” He gave a smile and a nod hello to the thick ho, who smiled more eagerly back. She waved at him. “I love your top.”
“Thank you, baby,” she cooed, the motion of which made her corpulent breasts jiggle.
“Shut up.”
Slim Jay nodded. “You Christian?”
Avery nodded.
“Fine. Go to Room 16. Just wait there. I’ll send you someone.” Slim Jay turned and walked away, pulling out his cell phone as he went.
The fat prostitute and the awkward, horsey-faced girl shrugged. They followed after Slim Jay, who went toward the motel lobby. Not sure what else to do, Avery just went to Room 16. If nothing else, he could wait there until the other groomsmen were done. This would not be the first time he waited for other men to be done at a brothel. Room 16 was unlocked, even though this was one of those motel rooms whose doors automatically lock. The lock was disabled, apparently.
He had just given up on Slim Jay doing anything when there was a knock at the door.
Avery got up from the bed, where he had been trying to figure out the remote control. He wasn’t into prostitutes. If Slim Jay brought him a new ho, Avery was just going to tell her to leave.
Standing there, glowering in the doorway to Room 16, was Nutter, a tall, broad-shouldered black man with a barrel chest and a cocky grin on his face. He wore a powder-blue baseball cap backwards, and a large crucifix was tattooed running up his sternum to his neck. He had dark brown skin that was smooth and creamy, and he carried with him a bottle of malt liquor that he finished as he entered the room.
“Yo,” he said, showing off his alluring smile and dimples. He stepped in, his muscular chest tense and puffed out like he meant to intimidate someone, despite the smiling face. “I’m Nutter.”
Slim Jay stood outside the door, with his arms crossed over his violet suit and purple tie. He smiled at Avery’s shocked face. “Nutter’ll do anything you say. Have a good bachelor party, man”
“Thanks…” Avery’s voice trailed off. He had no idea what was going on. The motel room door slammed shut. Of course, the lock had been disabled, so it simply bounced in the doorframe before settling on the threshold, barely shut at all.
But the door was shut enough to give an air of privacy to the dingy motel room.
“You blow weed?” Nutter asked. He pulled out a blunt he had been keeping behind one of his ears. He lit it and puffed til it had a good cherry, then he passed it to Avery, who took a deep drag. He hadn’t smoked a blunt since high school, so he coughed before passing it back. Nutter smiled. Avery took another hit, then passed it to Nutter, who puffed on it like a smokestack. He sucked down like a third of the blunt in his two hits.
Then Nutter held the smoke in his open mouth before exhaling a long plume. “A’ight… You want me to jerk you off, right? Let’s get it over wit’. You gonna stick me in the ass, honky?”
“Oh. Uh… Okay. Yeah, I, uh… I do that, do you, uh, mean…?” Avery was sure he had heard this wrong. He had to laugh at his own nervousness. This was like a dream, he told himself, you better not get so nervous you can’t even take advantage of it while you can. There was no way Slim Jay had a stable of both pretty women — kinda pretty — as well as this alpha male mandingo with the huge muscles and a no-doubt tight ass.
Nutter put the blunt down on the ashtray on the nightstand. He took off his hat, removed his shirt, then put his hat back on. His bare chest muscles rippled.
“So, uh… Nutter, are you…? I mean, uh, do you work, uh, for Slim Jay?”
“You mean am I a ho like a bitch?” Nutter asked. He scoffed. He stood up. He took another puff on the blunt, then exhaled the smoke directly in Avery’s face. “Do I look like a female ho?”
“No! That’s why I was asking! You didn’t seem like it, like that,” Avery said. What if he got beat up and robbed? Did Slim Jay really have any reason to trust Nutter? What if this was a set-up?
“No. I do not work for Slim Jay, whiteboy. I got cash, see?” He pulled out a wad of hundred dollar bills. “I got whores of my own, turnin’ tricks for me. Ya dig?”
“Oh. You’re a pimp?”
“Not ‘xactly, but yeah. I got whores workin’ for me, so…” He shrugged as he took off his clean sneakers.
Avery nervously undressed. He was a thin and delicate man, and he felt tiny standing next to Nutter, who was a round-chested, bulging-muscled macho. His chiseled torso was smooth, but Avery could tell it was only because he shaved it, whereas Avery had always been naturally smooth.
“You smell like girl,” Nutter said. He inhaled deeply.
“Uh… I guess… thanks?” Avery said. His dick dangled between his legs. He was proud of it — he rivaled Nutter’s own cock size. Judging from the look on Nutter’s face, he had intended to make fun of Avery for having a small dick and was annoyed to see that Avery didn’t, so he couldn’t.
Nutter got down on his knees. He laughed. “You believe me that I’m alpha as fuck?”
“Yeah!” Avery said. He blurted it out, and as soon as he said it, it was apparent that Nutter didn’t believe him, which made sense since Avery’s instinct was to say no.
“No, you don’t. You just want me to jerk you off,” Nutter said. “But you don’t get it.” He took Avery’s dick in hand and put it in his mouth, for just a second. “See? I can do it.”
“Yeah, I-“
Nutter scowled and frowned at Avery. “I was locked up for a long time, that’s all. I had a girlfriend. I mean, she was a boy, but I plowed her like a bitch and I always call her a her. I-“
“You had a girlfriend in prison-?”
“Don’t interrupt me. I plowed her ass until it turned into a pussy. She grew a clit just to satisfy me, whiteboy, and so I could make her cum so hard her teeth fall out. You believe that?”
“Well… Not really. No…”
“Shut up. I did it, I swear to God,” he said. He kissed Avery’s cock on the tip. “She had a dick like yours. Sometimes I liked to satisfy her dick. It feels good to be close to someone, y’know. Can’t be alone forever. I wanted to make someone happy, ya dig?”
“Yeah,” Avery said. “That makes sense.” He had trouble concentrating because Nutter seemed so aggressive even though his words were not. Avery couldn’t even think about what Nutter was saying. Nutter just scoffed at Avery, flopping his limp dick between his fingers.
“So go fuck yourself, whiteboy,” Nutter said. Then he swallowed Avery’s dick again.
The hostility in the air made Avery nervous. He disliked confrontation. But the anxiety actually made this even better than he expected — in truth, Nutter had an awkward, sloppy mouth. Avery felt his teeth more than once, and he attacked Avery’s dick as though he was angry with it. Avery couldn’t stop thinking about how Nutter could bite his dick off anytime.
That didn’t stop him from getting hard though, and the more anxious he got, the more his dick spasmed and throbbed, stiffening and prodding Nutter’s throat. Since Nutter was so big, he could deep-throat Avery easily, and with just a little struggle, he managed to nestle his nose deep into Avery’s flesh. Pleasure bubbled up Avery’s body.
“Aw, okay, oh god…” Avery babbled, too anxious to keep his mouth shut. It felt so good he stood on his toes and his eyes fluttered, hands hovering above Nutter’s head.
Finally Nutter pulled away. He swallowed, snorted and sniffled. He shot an angry look up at Avery, who blushed and turned his head away. Nutter stood and reached for his pants. He withdrew a bottle of lube.
“You wanna get in my ass, whiteboy?”
“Uh… okay… Yeah,” Avery said.
Nutter continued his hostile glare, never breaking eye contact for a moment as he squeezed lube out onto his hand. He rubbed it between his asscheeks. “You ain’t half the man Ramon was.”
“Okay. Ramon?”
“That was my girl, man.” Nutter spat onto the carpet. He sounded like he thought Avery should have already known that. “In prison. She tasted better than you.” He smirked at Avery, then he shook his head.
“Oh. Sorry,” Avery said. “You know, I’m like… cool with that, right?”
“Yes, you are. You wanted to ram a big black buck, and so that’s what Slim Jay got.”
“Whoah, that is not what happened. I never asked Slim Jay for anything,” Avery said. “You came in here and asked to jerk me off. You asked me to stick you in the ass. So I’m doing it. Don’t get mad at me for doing what you asked me to.” Avery blushed. He was rarely that confrontational with anyone.
Nutter bristled and wrinkled his nose. Then he smiled again. “Whatever, fuck Slim Jay. He’s a shithead. I turned his mom out, y’know,” he said. “She’s a trashy crackwhore.”
“Oh. Okay,” Avery said, slim-lipped and sucking in his breath.
“You’ll go at me hard, right?” he said. “I can take it.” He bent over the bedspread and clutched the blanket there. His big brown ass was bare, gleaming with lubricant.
Avery gulped and spread his asscheeks. He felt small in comparison to Nutter, whose asscheeks were wider than Avery’s entire chest. He rubbed each cheek and moaned at the power he felt in their quivering flesh.
“You gotta get lower,” Avery said softly. “You’re too tall.” His dick was at Nutter’s knee-height.
“Damn, short-ass whiteboy,” he said. He scooted down so he squatted on his ankles. Avery had to sit on the ground under him, making for a very awkward position since Nutter was much bigger and heavier than he was. Nutter chuckled, and his massive muscles writhed in front of Avery’s face. “Ramon was not that short.”
“It sounds like you really cared about him,” Avery said as he wedged his dick in.
“Her!” He barked so angrily Avery didn’t understand what he said at first. Then Nutter said, “Ramon was my bitch. I let her do things to me cuz I loved her, and I needed a tangible expression of my love.”
“Oh, yeah, sorry,” Avery said. “Her. Sorry. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, man, get goin’,” he said. “Come on, hurry up.”
Avery nodded and started to work his dick in. It felt like Nutter hadn’t taken any dick in a long time. His asshole was so tight Avery wasn’t sure this would work. But he squeezed on more lube and slowly got his dick in there, inch by inch.
Soon Avery was all the way in his ass, which squeezed and clenched around his cock. He moaned as little sparks of pleasure erupted in his manhood, and it throbbed in Nutter’s tight guts. Avery topped so rarely that he felt weird doing it now, especially in this awkward position.
But Nutter appeared to only be willing to do it like this. He kneeled in front of the bed as though he was going to start praying. His gold and platinum chains dangled around his neck, and his muscles all tensed as he struggled to accept Avery’s dick.
“You gotta relax,” Avery said when Nutter’s tight body started making it difficult for Avery to keep plowing him.
Nutter took a deep breath. He wrenched his body and gasped. Avery couldn’t tell if he was in pain or pleasure or both, but Nutter writhed. He leapt up and onto the bed so fast he dragged Avery with him.
And then Avery was literally on his back, supported entirely by Nutter’s spasming muscles. Since he had no leverage, it was all Avery could do to hold onto Nutter’s shoulders like a rodeo-rider on a rampaging bull. Avery’s body was wracked by intense sensations, which made him moan and groan, the sound of which was swallowed up by Nutter’s back.
“I would give you a reacharound,” Avery said breathlessly. His hands tried to grope around Nutter’s body, but Avery’s arms were much too short. He could barely finger Nutter’s erect, precum-leaking cock. “But I can’t reach.”
“Ramon always gave a reacharound,” Nutter muttered. “She loved me. Like a good bitch.” He took another deep breath and winced as Avery started to move his hips in a circle. That reawakened the bliss coursing through Avery’s veins.
Since Avery just laid on Nutter’s back and ass for now, he couldn’t plow. He just swayed, moving his dick around in Nutter’s ass as Nutter slowly grew comfortable with it. Nutter’s back muscles writhed, his tattoos gleaming with the sweat that collected there.
Eventually it felt like Nutter had grown used to Avery’s dick in his ass. Avery massaged his back and licked up the salty beads of sweat that dappled his flesh. Nutter moaned, his hostility gone now. Avery was able to slowly grind his dick in and out, every centimeter’s worth of motion wracking both men’s bodies with spasms and shocks of pleasure.
“Yeah, stick it in me, whiteboy,” he said. “You got a bigger dick than Ramon. It hurts more. But it feels good more too.” He chuckled but cut off his laughter when the movement made the pain worse.
Avery smiled. “Yeah. I got a big dick. Not as big as yours,” he said. He wasn’t sure that was strictly true, but he saw the wisdom in pumping up Nutter’s pride. Nutter did straighten his back out when he heard that.
Then Nutter’s cell phone rang. He roared in frustration, reached down to his pants and pulled out the cell phone. “Keep it down, whiteboy,” he said. His movement made his asshole squeeze around Avery’s cock. “I gotta take this. You might hear me get real.”
“Oh. Okay,” Avery said, too overwhelmed by passion to think about what that might mean.
“What?” Nutter said by way of greeting into the phone. “Uh-huh. No. No. No. No. No! You know my answer, Coolie. You pay me tomorrow.” He groaned into the phone. “Shut up, bitch. I’m fuckin’ a female in the ass. You wanna hear her croon?” He held up the phone to Avery, who was startled. He let out a feminine oah, ooh! “You hear that, Coolie? I just might hear you making that sound if you don’t pay me — well, it ain’t that hard, motherfucker. Just charge the shitmunchers more to make up for it. If you was a real hustler, you could it, nigga! Lil Bee do it. Rakhim Shockley do it. Wink do it. Nailboy do it,” he said. His face was red and screwed up, his anger at Coolie mixing with the intensity of being rammed in his sensitive ass. He roared into the phone. “You can do it too. Nailboy is straight up retarded, you fuckin’ bitch-ass nigga, you sell that shit and pay me tomorrow, or I will get the money outta yo’ ass!” By the time he hung up, Nutter was screaming so loud it made the light fixtures rattle. Avery was sure people in other rooms could hear that. His shouting made his asshole squeeze, sending shoots of pleasure through Avery’s body.
Avery was perfectly motionless, focusing on not orgasming despite Nutter’s massaging his dick. He was terrified of the argument — he had seen enough movies to worry that a driveby was coming next. But Nutter didn’t seem upset about it.
“Sorry ya had to hear me act like that,” Nutter said, his voice tense and clipped, Avery’s cock throbbing in his ass. “I know street talk makes white folk uncomfortable.” He sniffled. “Now get back to business.”
“Okay, yeah, sure, okay,” Avery said. “Cool. Fine.” He took a deep breath to stop himself from babbling again.
He took his dick all the way out, then pushed it back in with a loud sigh. He got up on his knees, while Nutter remained laying on his belly on the bed, one hand underneath himself jacking his own manhood.
That gave Avery leverage. He worked his dick in and out, and they both moaned in harmony with each other. Nutter had a deep, baritone voice that resonated in the rickety motel, while Avery’s flamboyant lilt gave the sound a musical air.
Avery was short enough and Nutter’s body was thick enough that Avery could plow his plump, bubbling cheeks while Avery kneeled behind him and Nutter laid on his belly. Avery just rocked his body forward, slipping his dick all the way in and most of the way out.
One of Avery’s hands gripped the bed beneath him, while the other kneaded the thick meaty slab of flesh over Nutter’s shoulder. Nutter moaned loudly. Each thrust of Avery’s hips brought both men closer to their climaxes.
His asshole clenched, and the smell of cum filled the air. Avery moaned as well, as his orgasm overwhelmed him. He felt the most incredible sensation of his life bursting deep within his body. His muscles all tightened.
The feeling of Nutter’s orgasm was palpable in the squeezing of his asshole and his muscles writhing in Avery’s delicate fingers. Nutter spurted a massive load into his hand and onto the bedspread. It soaked into the fabric there and filled the air with its cottony-sour scent. Nutter inhaled deeply of the aroma, while the first drops of cum filled up Nutter’s ass and landed on his sensitive prostate.
For a moment, Avery felt as strong as Nutter was — it was ridiculous, of course, since Nutter was easily twice Avery’s size. Avery pounded on his chest and roared, the sound drowned out by Nutter’s much deeper, louder grunting.
Cum sprayed into Nutter’s ass. It was a huge load, bigger than any Avery had ever shot. He just kneeled there motionless, using Nutter’s muscular back for support. He threw his head back and moaned his eyes, his girlish moan filling the air as wad after wad of jizz flooded Nutter’s ass.
Finally Avery was done. But his orgasm continued, in great waves as he felt Nutter’s muscles contract and flex beneath him. His cum filled up Nutter’s body and dripped out, further soaking the motel’s bedspread.
“God damn,” Nutter said with an exhausted moan. “You like that, whiteboy?”
“Hell yeah…” Avery said as he pulled out his limpening manhood. He took a deep breath. He was suddenly dizzy, overwhelmed by both fear and desire — he had visions of that Coolie person who had been on the phone coming by to fight with Nutter. Avery leaned down and kissed each of Nutter’s cheeks, which trembled beneath his lips.
“Clean up my ass now, bitch,” Nutter barked. Avery grabbed the tissues of the nightstand. He cleaned up Nutter’s ass, where creamy white cum flowed out of it.
Then Nutter stood and stretched his legs. He avoided eye contact with Avery as he got dressed.
“Thanks,” Avery said.
“Thank Slim Jay,” Nutter said. He shrugged. “If anyone asks, you was in here beggin’ me fo’ some free crack. I made you jerk me off and then I still ain’t give you none.”
“Uh… okay,” Avery said. He sat back on the bed. He had no intention of telling anyone that, but he wasn’t going to tell Nutter no.
When Nutter was dressed, he sneered at Avery’s naked body. “You skinny as shit,” he said. “You gotta get bigger.” He relit the blunt he had placed in the ashtray before. He took a deep breath and glanced out the window. “Aw, fuck, there’s that Coolie nigga. I’m-a go beat his ass. Have a good time, y’know, wit’ whatevuh whiteboys do.”
He left before Avery could answer. Avery crept forward to the window, where he watched Nutter stride out into the street. He confronted a trashy-looking, low-class thug, and they argued but soon walked away from the well-lit motel parking lot.
Avery got dressed and stepped out. By then, Jinky and the other groomsmen were finishing up with their prostitutes as well. Slim Jay smiled when Avery came out of the hotel room and met up with the others.
“You have fun, man?” he asked.
Avery nodded.
“Fo’ real?” Slim Jay asked, and in the way he raised his eyebrow, it seemed Slim Jay knew what had happened in here. He knew that Nutter had bottomed, and he knew that Avery wasn’t supposed to reveal that.
“Yeah,” Avery said with a smile. “I jerked him off, y’know. He’s an alpha male, a real gangsta. He throated me down hard. I, uh… I couldn’t take it. He’s too hardcore for me.”
Ramon is a flamboyant twink behind bars, but his release is coming up soon. That’s when a guard brings him a special visitor… Barrack Zales is a new prison guard caught smuggling in drugs, which means he’s in for a special punishment.
This is a punishment that Ramon is gonna enjoy doling out!
Read the whole thing here!
The night before Ramon’s release date, he couldn’t sleep. He had been dreaming of this day for what felt like a lifetime. He tossed and turned. It was the worst night in the state prison since his very first, when Ramon wept and trembled in fear until dawn.
Now he thought he should feel good about his imminent release, and a part of him certainly did. But a part of him also wept and trembled in fear until dawn yet again. He didn’t know what he was going to do when he walked out those doors. He didn’t have a plan, aside from the vague boilerplate “integration plan” he had come up with during his legally-mandated meetings with a parole officer.
When the first rays of sunlight came through the tiny window in one corner of his cell, Ramon’s heart skipped a beat. He got up and paced since he couldn’t sleep anyway. He could only walk three feet back and forth in his cell, so it his pacing was subpar, but that was the best that could be managed in his rinky-dink prison cell.
Footsteps echoed in the silent corridor of the protective-custody cell block. There were three guards — including Officer Uglymug — escorting another uniformed guard that Ramon didn’t recognize. The other guard appeared to be new, with a clean uniform and an unfaded ID badge, polished black boots and an insecure swagger.
Was he under arrest? His hands were behind his back as though handcuffed, but Ramon couldn’t see whether they were.
Ramon’s anxiety about his imminent release diminished as he tried to figure out what was happening. Newly-hired guards sometimes thought they could smuggle drugs in and sell it to the inmates easily, since that happened in the movies all the time. But the state prison had ways of preventing that, and it was common for new guards to work a day or two and then be seen leaving the prison in handcuffs (they never served a sentence here).
Officer Uglymug opened the door to Ramon’s cell. He smiled broadly. “You are one lucky sissy, Mister Mercado,” he said. “Meet Barrack Zales, a former guard here.”
Barrack smiled wanly at Ramon. “Congratulations on your release,” Barrack said. His voice was deep and gruff, and he sounded confident, but it was a faux confidence, like he really was insecure but tried to hide it.
“Thanks, Officer Zales,” Ramon said.
“Don’t call him that,” murmured Uglymug. “He ain’t an officer.”
“Oh… Okay, well, then, Barrack,” Ramon said. He stuck his hand out to shake, but Barrack was handcuffed, so all he could do was nod back.
“Barrack here thought he could smuggle heroin into my prison,” Officer Uglymug said. “He wanted to get inmates like you addicted so he could profit off you-“
“That ain’t what I was planning!”
“Oh? What was your plan again?”
“I was… I mean… I wasn’t gettin’ no one addicted,” he said. “I was just gonna sell…”
“You were going to sell drugs at inflated prices to people who would otherwise be in rehab, but aren’t since they get drugs from you,” Officer Uglymug said. “Can you explain the morality of that to me? It sure sounds-“
“Okay, we’ve been over this, man. I’m doing what you want,” Barrack said. He rolled his eyes.
Officer Uglymug stared daggers at Barrack until the silence was so thick it could be stabbed with a shiv. Then he turned back to Ramon and smiled again. “But we decided to spare the taxpayers the expense of a trial. We think you can, uh… well, insert the law into Zales through the asshole, and I figured that’d be a good going-away present for you too.”
Another long silence filled the cell. Ramon cleared his throat. “So… you want me to cornhole him? Instead of being arrested, he gets it up the ass from me?”
Barrack flared his nostrils. “I’ll do whatever you want, man.” He flexed his biceps the best he could with his wrists handcuffed behind his back, and his big bear-like pecs jiggled beneath his uniform shirt. “I don’t care.” Despite his words, it sounded like he did care very much. He looked nervous and vaguely ill. He ignored it as Uglymug undid the buttons of his uniform shirt, which couldn’t come off without removing the handcuffs, but Uglymug let the shirt fall off his shoulders behind his back.
Ramon sighed. “Hell yeah, come on in, Barrack. I’ll do you so good you decide to go to prison for fun.”
Officer Uglymug laughed, but Barrack bristled and rolled his eyes, staying put until Uglymug shoved him forward. The Uglymug closed the door behind him. He remained outside Ramon’s cell though, watching through the cell bars.
“Can I get the handcuffs off?”
“No,” Uglymug said. He stood there with his arms folded over his chest once again.
Barrack straightened his back, towering over Ramon. He struggled against the handcuffs on his wrists, muscles bulging as though he was seriously trying to tear the handcuffs apart with his raw strength.
“Well, I guess… Why don’t we get started?” Ramon said. He pulled down the fly of Barrack’s uniform slacks and removed his throbbing slab of thick dickmeat.
One “good” (relatively speaking) part of coming to the state prison was that Ramon got to show off his substantial dick. Everyone assumed that since he was a little man, he had a small cock, and Ramon was glad to prove them wrong. It had been enough to make him into a celebrity on his first day. The Aryans called him the “Mexican wit’ a big prick”.
Now Barrack sighed and shook his head when he saw it. He looked away, and he gulped.
The tension in the cell remained thick, as Ramon gently picked up Barrack’s meaty member. He swayed it back and forth in his hand. It was thick and juicy, and it made Ramon lick his lips. Then Ramon walloped Barrack’s dick with his own, and they sword-fought there — well, Ramon did, Barrack stayed still like a stone statue, wrinkling his nose, keeping his chin high, like he was pretending not to notice Ramon smashed both limp cocks together. Ramon liked the feel of Barrack’s fat limpness rubbing against his own, leaving a layer of masculine sweat and grime. The tension in the cell diminished, replaced by a comfortable arousal. Ramon’s hands roamed all over Barrack’s body.
When he got to Barrack’s nipples, he tweaked one, then the other, then both, and Barrack twitched. His pecs rippled. Barrack bucked, and Uglymug laughed out loud.
“You seriously uncomfortable with that shit, huh? You were never gonna like workin’ here,” Officer Uglymug said with a big grin on his face. “Can’t be squeamish if you gonna be a prison guard.”
Ramon kept jousting with Barrack, who faced away from him, his body stiff but tense. Ramon’s cock was firming up, so their jousting turned rapidly from dickfat jiggling together to Ramon stabbing his erection into Barrack’s soft cock and trimmed pubes. Barrack wrinkled his nose.
“Get on your knees,” Ramon said, then added, “Bitch!” Uglymug reacted with thunderous applause.
Barrack sneered and lunged like he was going to punch Ramon, but his arms were still handcuffed, so Ramon held firm. He didn’t flinch. Barrach growled.
“Get on your knees,” Ramon said again.
Barrack gritted his teeth and sunk to the ground on his knees. His eyes narrowed into slits aimed up at Ramon.
He was still much too tall to swallow Ramon’s dick like that. Ramon stood there with his hands on his hips. Even on his knees, Barrack’s face was even with Ramon’s bellybutton. Ramon rubbed his erect dick between Barrack’s massive pectoral muscles. Barrack ignored it.
“Ya gettin’ titty-humped, nigga,” Officer Uglymug said. “I think you’re gonna have to go lower than that to swallow his dick.”
“Take your time though,” Ramon said with a smirk. He really meant that, he was enjoying humping Barrack’s muscles. He wasn’t gonna cum like that, but Ramon was in no hurry. Anything to distract from the stress of his imminent relase was worth it. His dick rubbed on Barrack’s sternum, which made his pecs ripple, so Ramon switched to thwacked his erection on the meat of Barrack’s muscle.
Barrack scowled but did open his mouth. He stooped over and took Ramon’s stiff dick past his lips. He gagged loudly, and spit choked down Ramon’s shaft, which he spat out. There was something defiant in his gag, like he was proving that he couldn’t do this.
Little did he know — or maybe he did know — that a gag wasn’t gonna stop Ramon Mercado. Gagging made Barrack’s muscles flex, and it sent a squeezing shiver of pleasure up Ramon’s spine. He smiled.
When Barrack had regained his composure, Ramon rammed his dick in, laughing as Barrack sputtered, eyes opening wide. Ramon’s cock throbbed in his throat, and since he was handcuffed, with his arms behind his back, he could do nothing but submit while Ramon drilled into him.
“Yeah, make him choke!”
“Hmmm…” Ramon gripped Barrack by the head and pushed his dick in, not throating him down like a lot of men in this prison do — Ramon had found his mouth was in strong demand during his time here — but more making love to his throat, humping his tongue, and making sure Barrack tasted Ramon’s cock with every inch of his mouth.
“Gag him! Gag him! Gag him!” Uglymug chanted
The tightness of Barrack’s throat was exhilarating. Every time he gagged on Ramon’s cock, it sent a wave of pleasure through Ramon’s body. He moaned and blushed at how intense his reactions were. He hadn’t topped anyone since well before coming to this prison, so it was nice to experience a hot mouth on his cock again, even if it was unwilling.
Copious spit leaked out his mouth, as Barrack was unable or unwilling to swallow anything. He drooled up on Ramon’s shaft, his whole body buckling when he gagged. Ramon was gentle now that he was getting into it, forcing — gently — oh so gently — his cock down Barrack’s throat. When he did it slow enough, Barrack was unable to spit it out, as he could only retch.
Ramon was in charge of his gullet though. He forced his cock down there then held it in place, as he played with Barrack’s face and head. He had handsome features, big ones too, Barrack was a large man with a big head and big everything on it. Ramon’s petite hands played with his nose, his cheekbones, his chin, his ears, and Barrack glowered and simmered, erupting in a furious choke every few seconds.
At last, Ramon pulled his cock outta Barrack’s mouth, quickly lest he bust his nut. He did not want to finish this until he had gotten up Barrack’s behind.
“Lay down on your back, here on the bunk,” Ramon said. He blushed as he pointed to his bunk.
When Barrack hesitated, Ramon frowned. Officer Uglymug pulled out his cattle prod, which made Barrack roll his eyes and shake. He struggled to fit his broad body into the bunk. He was too tall, so his feet had to curl up so that his head could rest over the edge, and it was difficult to balance himself with his hands still cuffed behind his back.
“Up like this, so I can really get deep in that throat,” Ramon said. He lightly tapped Barrack’s cheeks, then leaned down and kissed him on the lips. Barrack had nice, full lips and a big tongue, which lay in his mouth like a dead fish. He didn’t kiss Ramon back. He just stayed limp as Ramon explored his mouth.
When his burgeoning orgasm had died down, Ramon placed his spit-dripping cock right at the entrance to Barrack’s mouth. Barrack’s lower lip quivered — it was his upper lip at the moment, because his head dangled upside-down over the end of the bed — as Ramon wiped precum off on his handsome face.
His chin and cheeks were smoothly shaved. Ramon slid his dick over the man’s face until Barrack’s entire face glistened with pearly white pre-cum. He gagged every few seconds even when Ramon pulled his dick away, as the smell of precum had seeped into his skin. Ramon thwacked his erection on Barrack’s nose.
There was a symbol of three claws tattooed onto Barrack’s neck. Ramon rubbed them with one thumb as he played with the precum on Barrack’s face.
“What’s the significance of this tattoo?”
Barrack bit his lip. “It’s a gangsta thing. You wouldn’t understand.”
“You’re a gangsta?!” Officer Uglymug barked angrily. “What? Why did they even hire you? You got a fuckin’ neck tattoo…”
“Fuck you, Uglymug.”
“Shut up, you don’t get to call me that,” Uglymug said.
“You fuckin’ bitch-ass-!” Barrack’s shouts were muffled moments later by Ramon’s balls, which dropped right into Barrack’s mouth. They were sensitive, and his mouth sent tingles of sensation up Ramon’s body, but Ramon did so mainly to shut him up. He didn’t want this to turn into a fight between Barrack and Uglymug. Ramon could end up blueballed.
Instantly Barrack gagged on the sweaty ballflesh coating his tongue and slipping into his throat. His mouth quivered and the fluids pooled there, a mixture of Barrack’s and Ramon’s bodily secretions filling up Barrack’s mouth. Barrack’s mouth filled and overflowed with drool and ballsweat, as all his muscles flexed when he struggled not to retch. Ramon’s balls filled his mouth and tickled his throat.
“Gargle, motherfucker,” Ramon said. He had to repeat himself as Officer Uglymug turned the cattle prod on again before Barrack did so.
He wasn’t able to gargle in any meaningful sense, because as soon as he moved his tongue at all, he gagged profusely. He spat up a giant ball of spit that landed on the uniform pants he still wore. Ramon wiped up all the saliva he could with one hand and smeared it over Barrack’s face.
“You are one nasty shit,” Officer Uglymug said, as though he was both impressed and sympathetic to Barrack’s struggle.
“Open your mouth wider,” Ramon said. He demonstrated an open mouth. Barrack had a large mouth by nature, but Ramon thought he could do better. “Open that mouth, bitch.”
Barrack looked away, then scrunched his eyes shut.
“Nah. Look me in the eye like the bitch you are,” Ramon said. He was petite, even effeminate, so he knew he sounded ridiculous calling someone else a bitch. But that was what made it so humiliating for Barrack.
“Shut up,” Barrack muttered, his voice weak cuz he was struggling not to gag. He closed his eyes and opened his mouth wide.
“Let’s see how this does,” Ramon said. He pushed his dick in slowly, dragging it out so Barrack tasted every drop of salty precum on his tongue. Barrack held out until his nose nestled into Ramon’s crotch. His throat squeezed around Ramon’s shaft. But Ramon was relentless — he had been a bottom in prison for years, so he knew a lot of tricks to force someone into deep-throating a huge cock.
“That was pretty good deep-throating,” Ramon said, as he let his erection slide out so Barrack could take a breath. “You’re learning… Good job.”
“You fuckin’ pansy!” Barrack screamed.
“That was rude,” Ramon said with a laugh. “I’ll give you a choice for this next part. Do you want to lick my ass? Or would you rather drink some piss?”
“Fuck you!”
“Both? Really? Officer Uglymug, did he really say he wanted to both lick asshole and drink piss?”
“That’s what I heard. He said, ‘I love licking prostates, almost as much as I love drinking urine.’ I heard him say that,” Officer Uglymug said with a chuckle. “Thought it was weird, but you know… I don’t like to judge.”
“That was a really good impression, Officer Uglymug. Sounded exactly like him,” Ramon said. He paused. “Maybe you can help with this. My dick is hard, and I’m not sure I can piss.”
“I’d be glad to assist, inmate,” Uglymug said. He pulled out his thick cock, and he left it dangling out the fly of his uniform slacks.
“Stick your tongue out, bitch,” Ramon said. When Barrack didn’t immediately comply, Ramon grabbed his tongue with his fingers and pulled. He had a notably long tongue, at least two inches sticking well out of his mouth. Ramon shuddered with anticipation. He had never gotten a rimjob like this. “Keep your tongue out. Remember when folks say you gotta lick ass, that isn’t really what they mean. You gotta stick your tongue inside my ass and lick the insides. Not the asscheek. There’s no point to licking an asscheek. Got that?”
Barrack wiped away tears from his eyes. “Please! I-“
“That was a yes or no question. Do you understand?”
“Yes!”
“Good. Keep that tongue out. Move it around,” Ramon said. He faced his pale, smooth ass at Barrack’s face. “Move your tongue around.” He laughed as Barrack wiggled his tongue. Then Ramon planted his ass on Barrack’s face.
Barrack bucked and screamed into Ramon’s asshole. His tongue flickered away at first, then gingerly touched Ramon’s hole. He gagged as Ramon’s ass-sweat dripped into his mouth.
“Get that tongue in there,” Ramon said. He did not expect a real rimjob, but it was fun to try, and the delay meant he moved further away from the orgasm he could feel gathering deep within.
Barrack struggled to make himself do it. His big tongue pushed into the hole, then out, then back in again. Each time he penetrated Ramon’s asshole, a wave of pleasure washed over Ramon’s body.
Grinding his hips to get his ass lower, Ramon managed to literally sit on Barrack’s face. With Barrack laying on his back on the bunk, Ramon was supported entirely by his head, by his tongue sliding in and out of his slippery asshole.
Ramon’s dick twitched and spasmed. Precum dripped from his shaft. Ramon threw his head back and moaned. He could have cum like this, from the intense pleasure emanating from his prostate. But he didn’t want to.
He pulled away just in the nick of time. Barrack hoarsely belched and gasped for air. He sat up and took a deep breath. His reddish face looked away from Ramon until Ramon pulled on his handcuffs to get his attention.
“Look me in the eye! Beg me for more ass!”
“Please… Please… Uh, Inmate… Please… Let me lick your ass some more.”
“What did I say? Are you supposed to be licking my ass?”
“I mean… Let me lick your rectum or whatever,” Barrack said. Tears winkled in his eyes. He turned to Officer Uglymug. “Please… You can arrest me. I would rather be on trial. Please!”
“Too late now,” Officer Uglymug said. “Besides, you don’t wanna know how they’d treat you when you are convicted. At least this will only last one day, Zales. You ready to drink some piss?”
“No!”
“Well, here it comes,” Officer Uglymug said. He had his hoggish prick out and aimed towards the bunk. After just a moment’s silence, he began pissing, a long, solid stream of acrid yellow piss arcing all the way to the bunk. It soaked into the mattress.
It landed on Barrack’s leg. He squirmed and looked away, then he saw Ramon’s harsh glare. His big, muscled body crept forward and to the ground. He opened his mouth right in the stream of piss, which dripped from his face.
“Alright, lemme take a turn on that ass,” Ramon muttered, as Uglymug was finishing up his stream of piss. He pulled away from Barrack’s mouth and got behind him. Barrack didn’t seem to notice since he was focused on the bitter piss filling his mouth and spilling past his lips. He sputtered and spewed, and he twisted around on the now-soaked mattress.
Barrack had such a wide, broad back that Ramon could barely wrap his arms around it. With his dick wedged between Barrack’s toned asscheeks, Ramon couldn’t reach Barrack’s nipples — it was like climbing onto a great beast whose muscles rippled beneath Ramon’s tiny body.
“What are you doing?!” Barrack screamed as Officer Uglymug finished pissing. Barrack’s face dripped. Since he was in the midst of a furious storm of retches, his asshole wasn’t clenched tight.
A loud pained croaking sound ripped out of Barrack’s throat as Ramon forced his dick in. He pushed it in farther and farther while Barrack squirmed and cried out. With his body unprepared for the sensation, Ramon got most of his cock in before Barrack instinctively tightened his asshole
That made it feel even better. Ramon loved the sensation of Barrack’s entire musculature tightening as he tried to buck Ramon off him. But Ramon just held on tight, his feet no longer on the floor. Barrack roared and screamed.
Ramon had no idea how long that lasted. He held on as Barrack wiggled and squirmed. Ramon couldn’t really ram back and forth at all, he had no leverage with which to move his body. He just gripped Barrack’s muscles and kept his cock all the way in Barrack’s ass, while the writhing of Barrack’s powerful body massaged pleasure into Ramon’s cock.
“God damn, man… Get off me!” Barrack screamed.
Then he went down, and his asshole clenched even tighter again as Officer Zales zapped Barrack with the cattle prod. The tingling of his skin was palpable, and Ramon even squirmed as the electricity poured through him as well.
But it was just a little buzz for Ramon — those cattle prods weren’t set to a strong shock — while Barrack screamed and collapsed into a sweaty, piss-covered heap of limp muscle on the bunk. His entire body tightened and stayed tense.
“There you go, good…” Ramon whispered into Barrack’s sweat-covered face. He began pistoning his hips, slamming his cock in over and over. Barrack’s asshole was clenched tight, but Ramon didn’t care, and he had already torn through his ass once. Barrack couldn’t do anything to stop him as Ramon pounded away at his plump behind.
The sound of Barrack’s tears were music to Ramon’s ears — he had spent years enduring the jeers and taunting of the other guards. He had been extorted and beaten and even worse, and now he got to hear a guard (or a former guard anyway) going through the same tortures.
“At least you get to leave here too,” Ramon said. He hoped his point was getting through to Barrack, but the man was sobbing hard enough that Ramon wasn’t sure he could hear.
Every time Ramon’s cock reached the deepest depths of Barrack’s ass, Barrack’s entire well-muscled body flexed and contorted like he was having a seizure. Sprawled out on the bunk he could do little more than writhe as Ramon slammed his ass again and again.
Finally Ramon could put it off no longer. An orgasm ripped through his body, so powerful it made him gnaw like a baby on Barrack’s shoulder. He grunted. Barrack roared and Ramon barked. They both tensed as Barrack clenched his ass around Ramon’s dick, which spurted a flood of cum into his tight asshole.
It was a huge load, having built up over the last few days — Ramon wasn’t in general population since he was about to be released, so he hadn’t had busted a nut. He hadn’t even masturbated because he hoped to fuck a woman s soon as he was released, and he wanted to have a big buildup of cum. He was glad to have saved it up for something special like this.
He twitched as his passion drained away like the last drops of cum that filled Barrack’s ass. Ramon stayed right there in position, giggling at Barrack’s exhausted choking, as his dick slowly limpened inside Barrack’s ass.
“Do you regret your actions?” Ramon asked. He crawled forward to wipe his ass-dripping cock off on Barrack’s face and lips.
“I do! I’m sorry! I’ll never try anything like it again,” Barrack said. He winced but opened his mouth and even extended his tongue to suck the filth of his own ass off Ramon’s cock. His skin was still so sensitive Ramon shuddered, his knees weakening. Barrack’s tongue sent him to new heights of pleasure, as Ramon experienced the final aftershocks of his climax.
“Good,” Ramon said. He leaned back and took a deep breath of the cum-scented air. He sat on Barrack’s muscled chest.
“You better get your clothes together, both of you,” Officer Uglymug said. “I”m takin’ you both for showers. You’re both going home today, and hopefully, neither of you are coming back.”
Desmond becomes an unlikely hero when he saves the day at the barbershop he works in, and he gets a reward he never dreamed of — he gets his choice of men! He chooses his boss, a big burly man who would never bend over and take it… or would he?!
Or read the whole thing here!
When the tall Jamaican thug walked into the Cityside Barbershop, Desmond wasn’t interested at first. He seemed like nothing more than another customer. A part of Desmond’s mind realized that the man had long, thick and unkempt dreadlocks — he obviously wasn’t here for a haircut.
But Desmond was deep in to an anecdote, talking to a handsome young man named Lamar as he finished giving Lamar a haircut. Desmond thought that if he played his cards right, he might be able to jerk Lamar off after the haircut.
And then it all changed — the Jamaican man pulled out his gun. He pointed it at Isaiah, the barber who was standing at the register at that moment. Isaiah yelped but did as he was told, taking all the money from the drawer and putting it in a bag. Desmond wanted to scream; he was so close that he could see the sweat beading on the Jamaican’s neck, and he could have reached out to pull on those dreadlocks.
The Jamaican got the money. It all only took a few seconds. He turned to flee out the door, put the gun in the waistband of his pants and ran. Desmond reacted without a second thought. He stuck his foot out.
He tripped the Jamaican man as he fled across the threshold. There was a loud splat as the Jamaican landed face-first on the concrete, dreadlocks akimbo. His jaw shattered, and he spent the next nine months in the hospital. He was still there when he was convicted of armed robbery. Rupert Alan was his name. It was all instinct. Desmond gave it literally no thought. He saw the possibility of tripping the man and did it without considering whether it would work or backfire — a lot could have gone wrong. Rupert could have avoided the trip and shot Desmond in anger, he could have dropped the gun and it went off, he could have gone on a shooting spree. If Desmond had thought about it, he wouldn’t have done it.
But he didn’t think about it, and he did do it, and that was how Desmond became an unlikely hero for the Cityside Barbershop, when all he wanted in the crucial moment was to swing on Lamar’s big fat dick (which he didn’t end up getting to do because the cops showed up and put a damper on the excitement). The whole thing happened so fast.
The other barbers treated him like a champion, especially Isaiah, but the one who was most appreciative was Johnny Cee. Johnny Cee owned this location of the Cityside Barbershop, so he was the one who had the most to lose if Rupert Alan made away with the day’s take.
“You really saved my hide, Desmond, damn,” Johnny Cee said over and over when he showed up an hour later. “Damn… My fuckin’ business insurance lapsed this month. Havin’ cash flow problems. If I’d got robbed, I’d have lost the shop for sure. No way I would have been able to keep goin’. How can I repay you, my man?”
But Desmond didn’t know how he could be repaid (aside from the obvious, money, which Johnny Cee said he simply couldn’t afford), nor did he even especially want it. He was happy to be treated like a celebrity all night. The others bought him drinks and clapped him on the back until they all stumbled home in the darkness of night.
When Desmond showed up for his shift the next morning, however, he was surprised to find the entire chain there, even Isaiah, who was supposed to be off today. They clapped and hooted when Desmond walked in.
He blushed and lowered his eyes. He liked being the center of attention, but this was becoming ridiculous. Then Johnny Cee stepped forward and cleared his throat. He stammered as he waited for the others to quiet down.
“Uh, hey… Desmond, I uh… I was talkin’ to the guys, and y’know, I can’t pay you a bonus, not even a dime. I’m sorry about that,” he said. “But I was wonderin’… I’d like to give you something. So, uh, as yo’ reward, I was gonna say… if you want… you can pick a nigga, and he gonna… you know… do whatever, even… you know, take some dick… or… y’know, on the bottom.” He looked relieved to have finally gotten that out.
All barbers looked at him like they were awaiting news on which of them had cancer. Desmond giggled and blushed. “So, I get to pick one of you, and you’ll jerk me off, take it in the ass, everything?”
They all nodded, and Desmond’s giggle turned into a cackle. They were treating this like such a serious offer, like they were choosing who had to take the fall and go to prison for a crime they had all committed.
“Oh, this is going to be fun,” Desmond said grandly, raising his arms in a long, low sweeping motion. “Johnny Cee, I thank you for your kind offer. And I choose you.” He didn’t even have to think about it. He loved older daddies like Johnny Cee, whose beard was tinged with exactly two strands of gray. He had a deliciously thick body, with just the right amount of meat in just the right places. Johnny Cee was also the only one here who had never gotten dome from Desmond on the downlow.
Johnny Cee made this offer assuming Desmond would pick one of the young handsome muscle-boys with dimples. But Desmond had tasted their meats already. What he wanted was Johnny Cee himself.
Everyone else whooped and hollered. Johnny Cee chortled. “Damn… I thought you’d pick someone younger, nigga.” He lowered his eyes, avoiding meeting anyone’s gaze.
Desmond laughed and took Johnny Cee by the hand, then gestured for him to lead the way into the backroom. He did so, and as Desmond followed he squealed with a leering grin aimed at the other barbers.
The sound of clapping only died out when the door swung shut behind Desmond. He followed Johnny Cee through the darkened supply area to a small spot with a chair and a bit of carpet. This was where Desmond plied his trade. There used to be porn magazines around, but Johnny Cee had made Desmond throw them away. They made it look unprofessional, he had said, though now he looked rather like he had regretted that decision.
Johnny Cee dropped to his knees as Desmond sat down. Johnny Cee sighed and smiled. “Damn, boy, you smell like a girl. Thanks fo’ that, it does help. You smell like a stripper.”
Desmond grinned. He wore women’s perfume to work for precisely that effect. Johnny Cee had to awkwardly stoop, he was simply too tall to bend right over Desmond’s lap and be able to take his dick in his mouth. Desmond felt a surge of guilt as he saw Johnny Cee’s face — he looked like he had just eaten an extra-sour pickle, and he hadn’t even tasted dick yet, he just undid Desmond’s pants and pulled them down. Desmond awkward lifted his hips to give him space to work on his pants. Johnny Cee averted his eyes when Desmond’s big brown dick flopped out. It looked like he had hoped that Desmond’s little twink body came with a little bitty dick, which was far from the truth.
“You know… you ain’t really gotta do this,” Desmond said. “Just lemme jerk you off. That’s all the thanks I need. I been wantin’ to taste your meat since I started here, nigga.”
“I know. I seen the way you look at me,” he said with a growl — he didn’t like it when Desmond used the n-word. Desmond blushed. “But I don’t mind. I gotta show my appreciation. You really saved my bacon.”
“Aw, your bacon is sexy, Johnny Cee. I’ll always save it.”
“This ain’t the first time I done this. Don’t tell the others.” He nodded to the front room, where nervous laughter could be heard — they were no doubt whispering about what Johnny Cee was doing in here. Johnny Cee took a deep breath. “I… Before I got married, me and my buddy Mando used to trade dome on the downlow.”
“Really? Mando Ray?” Desmond had trouble picturing that.
“This was befo’ Mando got real fat.”
“It’d pretty much have to be,” Desmond said.
Johnny Cee nodded, opened his mouth, scrunched up his nose and swallowed Desmond’s dick in one smooth motion. The smoothness only lasted a moment though, because he was overwhelmed by gagging when Desmond’s shaft penetrated the back of Johnny Cee’s throat.
“Swallow it, Johnny Cee!”
“Make him your bitch, Desmond! Fist him!”
It sounded like they were laughing so hard they were crying. There was more catcalling going on, but most of it was drowned out by a torrent of laughter and jeers. Johnny Cee often badmouthed them — reminding them of their religious obligations, mainly — when they were back here receiving dome, so it sounded like they all wanted to return the favor now.
“I’m tellin’ Reverend Chandler! He gonna punish the fuck outta you, Johnny Cee!”
“Maybe Reverend Chandler will go up your behind next! He could ram the repentance into ya!”
Johnny Cee tried to pretend it wasn’t bothering him, like he barely noticed it at all. His eyes were downcast and dark as he pushed his head up and down on Desmond’s shaft. His mouth was warm and wet, and it sent a shiver of desire through Desmond’s body. The whole situation was such a surprise that Desmond didn’t get hard right away, as though his body had forgotten how to react in all the confusion.
But as Johnny Cee’s tongue began stroking up and down Desmond’s shaft, he fell into the old groove again — he had been a bottom for a long time, and Desmond hadn’t received dome in nearly six months. He had never received dome from a big burly daddy-bear like Johnny Cee.
His hands roamed onto the back of Johnny Cee’s head. He had thick, kinky black hairs that were cut short, which was unfortunate, Desmond thought, as he would have liked to hold on as Johnny Cee got more and more into it. He gradually stopped gagging, though he never lost that sour-lemon look on his face. Then Desmond’s hands explored lower, sneaking under Johnny Cee’s shirt and caressing his rippling back-flesh.
“Can you take off your shirt?” Desmond asked, feeling uncertain that Johnny Cee would do it. Maybe that would seem too weird? Almost romantic? He wasn’t sure. Alphas had such weird rules about this sort of thing. But, Desmond thought with a sigh, that was part of what he loved about them.
“You feel spermies tryin’-a impregnate yo’ rectum, Johnny Cee? Hope you’s on the pill!”
Johnny Cee lifted his head and frowned as he unbuttoned his shirt, removed it and lifted his wifebeater over his head. He had a strong, thick-muscled body with a hairy barrel-shaped chest, his thick arms jiggling as he paused with his shirts in his hand. He had just one tattoo, the Lord’s Prayer in flowing script on his right bicep. He said a brief prayer, then leaned forward and kissed Desmond on the lips.
Desmond was so shocked he didn’t kiss back at first. That was one of the rules that most niggas at the Cityside Barbershop never broke — no kissing. They might even lick Desmond’s ass to lube it up, jack him off as a favor, taste his cum by accident, touch dicks with a nigga during a gangbang, maybe even let someone finger his ass while he was knee-deep in some pussy.
But none of them would kiss a man, except, it seemed, for Johnny Cee. His burly body pressed heavily down on Desmond’s thin chest as they made out, Desmond wrapping his arms around Johnny Cee’s body and clinging on.
They stopped only when Johnny Cee’s cell phone buzzed. He looked at the screen and growled in frustration, and the men in the frontroom burst into laughter again — obviously, they had sent him a teasing message.
“Whatchoo think, Johnny Cee? I know a pimp who’d treat you right!”
Desmond wanted to ask what it said, but before he could, Johnny Cee kissed him again. His grizzled chin was rough and scratchy, his tongue awkwardly flailing about. It was a weird kiss, Desmond thought, especially since he was so much smaller than Johnny Cee — it felt like he was a child again, being kissed by a giant, like Johnny Cee could open his mouth wider at any moment and swallow Desmond whole.
Then Johnny Cee undid his pants, let them fall and dropped his shorts as well. His heavy dick was thick, juicy, and not totally limp, which made Desmond giggle: Johnny Cee was more aroused by this than he let on.
Desmond stroked Johnny Cee to full erection as they kissed, and then Desmond licked his way down to Johnny Cee’s pecs. He looked like he had probably had a six-pack and a mountainous chest when he was younger, but now there was a perfectly thick layer of flesh atop his body, which hadn’t lost a lick of power since then. That was just the way Desmond liked it. He liked the massive meat of Johnny Cee’s middle-aged frame, and he enjoyed the way it nervously quivered as Johnny Cee got more and more into it.
Every fiber of Desmond’s body said he should start jerking Johnny Cee off, but Desmond didn’t want to, even though his dick was hard as steel and already oozing precum into Desmond’s fingers. This was an opportunity that wouldn’t likely happen again, and Desmond wasn’t going to squander it.
“Alright, be gentle,” Johnny Cee said. He sighed and turned around, his pants still around his ankles so he had to shuffle awkwardly. He bent over like a prisoner submitting to his cellmate: he put his hands on the floor and stuck his ass in the air.
Desmond giggled. “You greatly overestimate my height, Johnny Cee,” he said. Johnny Cee’s ass towered above Desmond’s head where he sat in the chair.
“Oh yeah,” he said with a grunt. “Mando was taller than me.” He lowered his ass slowly, yelping in surprise when Desmond’s fingers gripped those big hairy orbs. He grinned at Johnny Cee’s reaction. Johnny Cee winced and turned his head to face Desmond. “Yo’ fingers are cold, man.”
Desmond clucked like a mother hen. “Sorry, baby, lemme warm ‘em up.” He breathed on his fingers, then caressed Johnny Cee’s asscrack. Johnny Cee shuddered and stopped moving, his back flat and ass right at the level of the chair in which Desmond said.
“Make his ass bleed, Desmond! If you ram him hard enough, he’ll learn to love it!:
His skin was marked with hair and rough spots, which Desmond loved. He kissed both asscheeks and spat into the dark, funky hole. Then he dove his head in to get it loosened up.
The taste was musty and masculine, dripping with salty sweat and the flavor of coconut oil-scented soap. It was a decidedly feminine kind of soap, Desmond thought, no doubt chosen by Johnny Cee’s wife. His tongue plunged in to that tight, dark hole and explored it as Johnny Cee stiffened his entire body in response.
A loud, foundation-shaking moan escaped from Johnny Cee’s lips. He cut it off when he realized the niggas in the frontroom could hear and were guffawing as though they had never heard anything like that (which was very possibly true — Desmond had never heard that kind of moan either). Johnny Cee’s asshole bloomed, loosened and opened up all at once, while his dick spasmed and leaked precum even with no one touching it.
Then Desmond stood, ready to begin the actual ramrodding. Johnny Cee breathed fast, tense, and hung his head low. Desmond couldn’t believe this was happening, and he kept thinking that Johnny Cee was going to back out. He stood on the chair, looking over Johnny Cee’s broad, rippling back.
“Uh… damn…” Desmond said. “I, uh, I don’t know how to do this.”
“Well you’re the expert. Don’t ask me for help,” Johnny Cee snapped.
“I know, I know. It’s just you so big. Normally I’d give you a reacharound but I don’t even know if I can reach,” Desmond said.
“Don’t worry about that. Once you get into me, I ain’t gonna have a boner no more,” Johnny Cee said. His voice sounded clipped and annoyed.
Desmond didn’t think that was true, but he wasn’t about to argue. He decided to just go for it. He kneeled on the edge of the chair and wedged his dick between Johnny Cee’s asscheeks, which he pulled apart with both hands.
As soon as his dick entered him, Johnny Cee grunted, bit his lip and threw his head back. Desmond lightly caressed his meaty back muscles, or at least the lower third of his back, which was all Desmond could reach.
He tried to gyrate his hips, but with himself sitting on the chair and Johnny Cee lowering his ass onto him, that wasn’t too easy to do. His dick couldn’t move much in this position. That didn’t detract from the intense pleasure he felt as Johnny Cee’s tight asshole clenched around his dick. A wave of exquisite sensations rollicked through Desmond’s petite frame.
“Did you and Mando ever share any ass?” Desmond asked, his voice tight because he had a behemoth riding his cock.
Johnny Cee shook his head but didn’t answer. He groaned and sighed. Desmond suspected that meant the answer was: not in any way that counts, meaning we did it when we was drunk, stoned, in prison or homeless, or some combination thereof. Johnny Cee’s ass pinched and flexed as he struggled to take all of Desmond’s dick.
When it became clear that it wasn’t going to work like this, Desmond used the chair for leverage. He thought he’d ride Johnny Cee to the ground and just hump him there on the floor, but that wasn’t what happened — Johnny Cee easily supported Desmond’s weight.
So Desmond clutched his thick back and held on as he began working his dick in and out. He was completely off the chair, riding Johnny Cee like a piggy-back ride, just lower down on Johnny Cee’s back. He stayed bent over, on his hands and feet with his ass still high in the air.
Johnny Cee was so tall that he seemed to take up an impossible amount of room, filling the tiny space Desmond had set aside for jerking off horny men. He had never thought he’d use this space to top anyone.
As Desmond humped, Johnny Cee bit his lip to avoid crying out. The men in the front room were quiet now except for a few scattered giggles. Desmond had been back here often enough to know what that meant — they were listening at the door but not talking about what they heard, probably because there was a child in the shop. It was just past nine, after all, so the Cityside Barbershop was open now.
Johnny Cee staggered and bumped into a shelf, nearly knocking it over. A box full of unsold doo rags fell onto Desmond and scattered over the floor. Johnny Cee was breathing heavy, having trouble supporting himself not because Desmond was so heavy but because Johnny Cee was jacking himself off as he took it up the ass, which meant he only used one hand to support his body now.
That suggested that he was hard. Desmond wanted to point out that Johnny Cee’s prediction was proven incorrect, as he had known it would be, but his own pleasure was too intense to stop. The more he humped, the more frenzied was Johnny Cee’s reaction.
“Damn, get it in me, man…” Johnny Cee said softly. He grunted and heaved, stumbling throughout the room and bumping into the walls head-first. The emotions galloping across his tense face were equal parts agony, pride, humiliation and jaw-dropping bliss. Johnny Cee’s entire body reacted to each thrust of Desmond’s dick inside him, tension rolling up and down his flesh from head to toe and back again. His face, when he looked behind himself so Desmond could see it, was ruddy and covered with sweat, eyes bugging out of their sockets.
When Johnny Cee clenched hard on Desmond’s dick, Desmond didn’t know why. He just knew it sent a crescendo of pleasure up his spine, and Desmond grunted so loud the sound overpowered Johnny Cee’s reactions for a moment. But then it was clear why Johnny Cee had clenched down — he was cumming.
That much was a surprise. Desmond knew that most men would get hard when being rammed, simply due to prostate stimulation, that was why Desmond had disbelieved Johnny Cee’s prediction that he’d remain soft. But he was shocked that Johnny Cee had managed to cum while Desmond still pounded his ass.
“Aw, fuck yeah, nigga…”
But there was no mistaking the cummy smell that filled the area, and the intense moan that came from Johnny Cee’s throat. Someone applauded outside the room, leading to another burst of laughter. Johnny Cee tried to cover up his pleasurable groaning with a cough, but his coughing spasm sent a shiver of pain up his spine as it made Desmond’s dick grind even deeper into his ass.
That was it for Desmond, who couldn’t hold back anymore. He dug his nails into the flesh of Johnny Cee’s back while an intense orgasm rocketed through his body. It grew in waves, each successive outpouring of pleasure more incredible than the last. With his face buried in the meaty middle of Johnny Cee’s back, Desmond felt like he was ensconced in masculine flesh in a way he hadn’t felt even when being rammed all over by big men in the past. For a moment, he and Johnny Cee might as well have been one person.
Desmond yelped and squirmed atop Johnny Cee’s body, and he even bit at the flesh of his back when the intensity of his climax was too overwhelming for Desmond to accept. Johnny Cee didn’t even seem to notice the bite.
At long last it was over. Johnny Cee was perfectly still now, stooped over so his back was flat. He breathed heavily, waiting for Desmond to finish. Desmond was still too exhausted to react, so he remained there as his dick softened inside Johnny Cee’s ass. He tightly gripped Johnny Cee’s body, which he still clung to like a small adult riding a giant stallion. Johnny Cee cleared his throat, but Desmond still remained right there.
Then Desmond let go of his back, which made Johnny Cee let out a sigh of relief. That sigh accelerated as Desmond slid down and his cock finally plopped out of Johnny Cee’s ass. Desmond’s face rubbed up against the burly man’s lower back and his cum-dripping asscheeks until he finally landed on the ground on his feet. He nearly fell as his orgasm had weakened his knees, but Desmond managed to remain upright.
Johnny Cee turned around and winced. He kissed Desmond on the lips, and their tongues awkwardly interlocked once again — Johnny Cee’s massive tongue overfilling Desmond’s mouth, in which it barely fit. Then Johnny Cee pulled off and smiled bashfully.
“Sorry,” he said.
“You don’t have anything to apologize for. You’ve got a nice ass, Johnny Cee.”
“Yeah, well… Thanks, for that, and for, uh… y’know, saving the shop,” he said.
“You’re welcome,” Desmond said with a gasp and a shudder. They both got dressed. When they were done, Johnny Cee took a deep breath.
“So, y’know, I’m gonna tell them niggas that you go hard but it ain’t hurt too much. I ain’t gonna tell ‘em… y’know… that I jacked off too.”
“Okay,” Desmond said, sighing and smiling at Johnny Cee’s nervous stammering. “No one ever has to know you enjoyed bottoming. Your secret is safe with me.”
