Lem is a roughneck and, allegedly, the world’s greatest uncle.
Description
Lem sported salt-and-pepper cornrows on his dark brown scalp, yellowed eyes and teeth, and long lanky limbs brimming with muscle. He was wiry like a stack of weasels.
There he met up with this old feller Lem, one the few Americans upon that rig. He do keep in touch with Lem yet. Lem goes all o’er to find work. He don’t got a home to go back to, or maybe he did and don’t nobody want his ripply ass there. Lem was a elderly homeboy with elbows all o’er, he was strong as hell despite being skinny, he one them kinda angular homeboys. He was darkskin. Or maybe t’other homeboys might call him a nightcheek, cuzza his face, but don’t tell him that, cuz Lem Staggerman disrumbles to Africans. Lem’s dick stayed limp as a worm. It weren’t as long as Buck’s, but it was thick as hell, specially next to Lem’s wiry-muscled body, shit, that old head was built like a buncha telephone poles got smushed together.
Lem was wearing his tight-whites and shadowboxing in the dead-end him and he bedded down in. He got no fat on him, all lean muscle, so nothing moved ‘cept his old-nigga dingdong in his drawers, which flopped about like it weren’t really attached to nothing in there. When Steel gets drunk enough, he laughs at that, cuz there was something funny as hell about Lem’s jiggle-free body ‘cept for the pecker jiggling like a jello store in a tornado. But Steel weren’t yet drunk enough to laugh it tonight. Lem be going all around for work, he work on oil rigs, he be lumberjacking and shit, he be setting up factories and laying down roads, claimed he was a bodyguard for Manuel Noriega, which Steel disbelieved but ain’t say so.
Buck placed one foot on Lem’s cornrows. His scalp was palpable and smooth beneath the coarse rows of silver-and-black hair. “Old black men with cornrows look ridiculous, Lem, you know that, right?” “Shut the fuck up. What do you know about black hair?” Lem glared at the foot resting on his scalp, but he didn’t push it off. Buck’s balls dangled between his legs in front of Lem’s face. “I know it ain’t nevuh been cool to got cornrows lookin’ like graverows. Ya scalp look like the cemetery you ’bout to move into, Lem-” He put both feet on Lem’s shoulders.
He that dumbass nasty trashy old homeboy who stink like a dirty doorknob.
Lem’s whole body felt like layers of salty sandpaper, and he was too bony. Buck wouldn’t wanna fuck a woman Lem’s shape. He might buy her a hot meal and a bus ticket home, but he wouldn’t fuck her… Anyway, Lem got a face like a crackhead who got crowned king of all the hobos.
Anyways, Lem held his own in gen-pop that first weekend. Shit always kicked off on weekends cuz there was less guards then. Lem got cracked upside his head, as he was a hard worker and a passionate lover and also the world’s greatest uncle at that time but not a fighter. He wasn’t gonna make it in gen-pop forever. There was more crackheads with shivs there than Lem had muscles… His prison work ain’t pay enough, and Lem got nobody sending him dollars in his commissary — supparently being the world’s greatest uncle, Christmas, 1977, don’t get a nigga no funds. Lem still got the tee shirt to prove it if any fat-nose hillbilly wanna call him on that.
Lem was swaying like a wiggley inflatable tube thing like they got advertising car dealerships along the highway, like he was dancing to two different songs at once. Lem was old — only some fifteen years older than Steel, not that much really, but he seemed old for real to Steel, old as a turtle. He was wiry too, all muscle and sinew, like a frown came to life. Lem’s whole body was hard as iron raisins.
Lem was just as skinny then as he was nowadays — back then he wasn’t “skinny”, he was “ripped”, six-packed, handsome, but his same body shape now was “ropy“, “wiry” and “raisiny” — that was how Steel did describe him. Anyway, Lem was a young whoopty nigga then, and Big Eddie was the same age.
Mason knew Lem back when he drank, and Lem drank a lot. He quit last year. Mason thought Lem’s eccentric behavior and wild tangents were due to his drinking, but after a year of sobriety, Lem was just as off the wall as ever. Maybe even more so. Maybe the liquor had kept him calm back before.
As Buck lay upon his back, done with his workout and catching his breath, Lem stood up, then stepped his gnarly old feet upon Buck’s belly. He was dry like tree bark, and Buck was slick with sweat, his chest hair matted to his skin.
Before Lem could finish fixing the cardboard, Buck pulled down his briefs and let his dick hang free. He thwacked his dick against the small of Lem’s back. In the dim light of their space, for about a half-second, Buck thought it felt like a woman’s skin. But then he felt coarse hairs, and Lem’s firm muscle, and his old-head wrinkles, and the puckered scar of a bullet wound. He left it resting there on the sweaty skin of Lem’s back.
His scalp was palpable and smooth beneath the coarse rows of silver-and-black hair. “Old black men with cornrows look ridiculous, Lem, you know that, right?” “Shut the fuck up. What do you know about black hair?” Lem glared at the foot resting on his scalp, but he didn’t push it off. Buck’s balls dangled between his legs in front of Lem’s face. “I know it ain’t nevuh been cool to got cornrows lookin’ like graverows. Ya scalp look like the cemetery you ’bout to move into, Lem-” He put both feet on Lem’s shoulders. With both of Buck’s feet on his shoulders, his cock and balls were right in front of Lem’s face.
Lem was skinny-muscled, like he was made of stretched raisins, so’s he got cold easy and wore long johns, sweatpants and a heavy shirt to the shower… Lem was a elbow-mad homeboy with ashy knees,brown skin and black hair. He was pushing past fifty, Buck reckoned, but he got taut muscles. He was wiry though, not bulky like Buck. Plus Buck was well o’er six and a half feet tall, while Lem was short as sugar.
Lem drank and smoked constantly when he was off-duty (and more subtly when he was on-duty), so Buck did likewise. Lem had been working on rigs most of his life. Specifically, he’d done a couple contracts for Mr. Chow, so he knew his way around the rig already.
Nobody wanna taste Lem’s “nasty old black pecker” (Buck’s words), and Lem’s body was rough and not big and squishy like Buck’s. Lem was a “sandpapery chimney of a homeboy” (also Buck’s words). In fact, Mason didn’t mind Lem being too taut for it to feel proper, as Buck described it. Lem’s body was wiry, like he was naturally skinny but forced by a hard life to cram muscles on. His thighs were firm and corded-muscle, and his cock was soft as he swaggered over to Mason.
Buck the Roughneck: Buck is off to a rig to make a little dough… and maybe a friend!He’s bunking up with an older black fellah named Lem, and the two are gonna get into some crazy shenanigans, both on the rig and on leave. They’re ain’t no females around most of the time, so Buck and Lem are gonna have to satisfy their needs one way or another.That means they’re in for a world of gloryholes, roughhousing, horseplay and hot, throbbing manhood!
Steel the Roughneck: Steel is off to work on an oil rig, which means he’s surrounded by men without any women to tame them! Him and Lem are the only two American black men on board, and they need to get their rocks off one way or another. That’s a recipe for hardcore man-on-man action, which Steel just might have to endure…Can Steel get through his stint as a roughneck?
Buck on the Oil Rig:Buck Sampson is working on an oil rig once more, and without women around, the hard-edged roughnecks there get their rocks off through whatever means necessary! Buck’s bunking down with Lem, an old black feller with dick for days and muscles to match, and when the two of them have leave, they really do get down and dirty!Can Buck make it through his contract with his booty intact? Can Lem?
He opened his mouth to say more but caught eye of Buck’s club-like dick resting on the floor between Buck’s legs — Buck was sitting splay-legged to air out his balls, which was disgusting.
B’fore’n the tussle ‘tween ’em could erupt, a hubbub commotioned itself behind ’em, and they both turned to see someone walk in. They both squared up.Ain’t nobody allowed in they dead-end.But it was Mistah Chow, the wonton-shape sunnyskin sumbitch who do run this oil rig. He was a scowling soybean, ticktocky voice like snapping chopsticks, ...
At least that prison cell ain’t got no honkies at that time.
Couple honkies did come later, and naturally they be stirring up all kinda conflict, as a honky do, Lord have mercy!
One them said he was from Abba-dabba-doo, and that was from the fucking Flinstones. Lem know when a A-rab is pulling his leg, cuz it’s attached to this nigga brain.
After that, the convo turned to who was suspected of being the rig thief, cuz that was the hot topic of the moment. Somebody was stealing shit outta personal effects, and it was causing ripples all over the rig. Lem blamed the Haitians, cuz they was like that and cuz he was like that. Steel ...
“Which one you lookin’ at?” Lem turned the magazine around, so now Steel was looking at the female Lem was looking at a second ago and vice versa. Lem sucked on his teeth. “This bitch got a played-out pussy. You can tell.”
B’fore’n the tussle ‘tween ’em could erupt, a hubbub commotioned itself behind ’em, and they both turned to see someone walk in. They both squared up.Ain’t nobody allowed in they dead-end.But it was Mistah Chow, the wonton-shape sunnyskin sumbitch who do run this oil rig. He was a scowling soybean, ticktocky voice like snapping chopsticks, ...
Kareem blushed and tried to cover himself again with both hands, but he was shivering so bad it hurt, and his teeth chattered so hard he couldn’t speak. He couldn’t stand still. Lem batted his hands away. Buck burst into uproarious laughter when he saw.
After that, the convo turned to who was suspected of being the rig thief, cuz that was the hot topic of the moment. Somebody was stealing shit outta personal effects, and it was causing ripples all over the rig. Lem blamed the Haitians, cuz they was like that and cuz he was like that. Steel ...
Buck immediately took off his sandals and briefs, and he sat on the bench in the center of the locker area. Lem undressed more slowly, as he continued a long story that had begun before they entered the corridor.
He opened his mouth to say more but caught eye of Buck’s club-like dick resting on the floor between Buck’s legs — Buck was sitting splay-legged to air out his balls, which was disgusting.
That’s called ‘frotting’. Kax don’t know it had a name, and he was surprised Buck knewed sump’in he don’t. Buck don’t got a reputation as a smarty-pants.
In prison, Steel saw a documentary, and it turned out lizards drink mad water, like desert lizards when it floods, they be guzzling that! Lizards is wise motherfuckers. Drink when it floods, nigga!
After that, the convo turned to who was suspected of being the rig thief, cuz that was the hot topic of the moment. Somebody was stealing shit outta personal effects, and it was causing ripples all over the rig. Lem blamed the Haitians, cuz they was like that and cuz he was like that. Steel ...
Hassle is a bucket trustee at the police station, Precinct 17.
Bartholomew “Hassle” Havens, aka Barry Havens
Hassle was tall, broad-shouldered, as strong as an ox. He had thick callused fingers, which gripped Anthony’s cock like it was nothing, looking up at Anthony as if Anthony was supposed to say something. But all Anthony could think about was his cock in Hassle’s grip. That, plus the swastikas. His brother had mentioned that Hassle was a Nazi. Anthony thought that was an exaggeration. But Hassle had a shaved head, pale as fresh snow, and his back was adorned with a giant red swastika, which rippled over his taut muscles. German words were printed in Gothic letters on his chest. His square jaw jutted, as he grimaced at Anthony, those club-like fingers still tweezering Anthony’s limp dick.
Anyway, everybody called him Hassle, not Barry. Hassle was a Nazi. He said he weren’t a real heil-Hitler kinda Nazi, he just joined up with the Aryan Way in prison. Maybe perhaps he was telling the truth. But his broad shoulders was tattooed with German lettering on the front, while a huge red swastika took up mosta his back. He got a typical white-man face with a jutting jaw so square it looked painful, and he got a permanent scowl on his face. He the kinda honky you couldn’t ever imagine smiling.
Officer Goober came back out a few moments later, followed by a stately man with broad, alabaster shoulders contained within a strappy wifebeater. His muscles barely fit beneath the fabric. He had a tight six-pack, barely visible because that wifebeater was too small for him and had a giant hole in it, and he wore a pair of sweatpants that you could tell were his pajamas. His eyes were dim and clouded, like Goober had just woken him up. It took Simon a minute to realize that was Hassle. The swastikas tattooed over his heart, belly and shoulder were the giveaway. He also had the name HASSLE tattooed across his neck, but it was harder to make those letters out because they were shadowed by his square, jutting jaw. The big dark blob of a tattoo on his chest was Hitler’s flinty face. Hassle was as strong as Buck, maybe, Simon thought, or at least close to it. He was shorter than Buck by a little. And he was basically hairless, very much unlike Buck. Hassle had a shaved head like an albino cue ball, and his chest was just as smooth — either naturally hairless or maybe he shaved that too. Simon hadn’t got a look at his legs because he was wearing those sweatpants. Now those sweatpants were crumpled up on the floor by the bunk. His back was tattooed with the number 88 and some arcane Gothic lettering. Simon moved closer to read it, only for Hassle to let go of his cock because the angle was awkward. Simon pressed his dick on the meaty muscle between Hassle’s shoulder blades, right on an unidentifiable shape (which Simon gathered was a crude map of the Nazi empire at its height).
He was not as tall as Buck, but he was built the same, huge and blocky, big prison-toned muscles gleaming white where’n he weren’t tattooed. Hassle was a chowder-white Aryan Way feller, so’n those tattoos was swastikas and German words and obscure symbols and shit like that. He done say he weren’t a real Nazi, he just joined up in prison. Buck softly believed that. Hassle was pale as could be and got a face ugly like a microwave dinner.
Hassle was a big-ass skinhead — he got swastikas and Hitler quotes tattooed all over his back under that denim workshirt, including a giant red swastika that stretched from his shoulderblades to the top of his buttcheeks. His shaved cueball head and square jaw made him look fierce, and his well-muscled body towered over Cody.
He was tall, and as bald as a cue ball cuz he shaved it on the regular at the sink in the hall. He was broad in the shoulders and chest, his muscles working and jerking as he got the vomit up. He done sprinkled sawdust on it to make it easy to sweep up into a dustpan, and he wrinkled his nose when he whiffed of it. In his long-sleeve prison shirt and denim trousers, the only visible tattoo was a red swastika on his neck, but he got dozens of ’em lining his muscles and running up and down his buttcheeks. Hassle used to be a member of the Aryan Way. He ain’t never been a committed Nazi, he often said, but he joined in prison, and he joined for life.
“Thumper,” Hassle said with a frown upon his squareness — he got a big square face, all the parts of which seemed too big for each other, like he was made of inflated rectangles. He be stone-facing. He do that, Hassle is like that. He looked down on Bill, who got even paler than usual. That’s cuz Hassle got a swastika on his right bicep, and his shirt-sleeves was rolled up, so Bill clocked it. Hassle was covered in iron crosses, swastikas, quotes in German, all that hoohah. He done told Thumper he weren’t never a real nazi, he just played at one cuz in prison. Could be true. Thumper don’t know. It happens. Thumper and the Aryan Way was stab-mad with each other, but lucky for Hassle, Hassle was on the outs with the Aryans too. So Thumper ain’t feel no urge to gut him.
Hassle was a chowder-white Nazi, straight-up Nazi like a shot of vodka! He claimed he only joined the Aryan Way in prison and he don’t believe in the swastikas and German quotations tattooed on his body, and he was on the deep-out from the Aryan Way regardless.
Hassle was a chowder-white Aryan — complete with swastikas visible on his back around the moth-nibble holes and raggedy edges of his wifebeater. He got a cueball head and a bald chin, a big noble jaw and a fist-shape nose.
Hassle was a bull-headed neo-Nazi, his boxer’s body covered in swastikas and German words. His head was as smooth as a cue ball. He had been a trustee, living at the jail and doing odd jobs for the cops, for a long time. His skin was porcelain, untanned and unblemished, aside from the tattoos.
A large man walked around the police station in a denim outfit — grass-stained jeans and a thick workshirt, his arms stretching the fabric. He got a shaved head and colorful tattoos barely visible on the edges of the fabric. He carried a painfully block-shaped face with a beat-up fist of a nose. His name was Barry Havens. Hassle. They be calling him Hassle. Bull-headed. Chowder-white. Some six-three, maybe six-four. Heavyset. Late thirties. Aryan Way tats.
Hassle was a “bucket trustee”. That meant he was a long-time prison inmate, possibly a lifer. Rather than do his sentence in the state pen, he worked at the police station, mopping floors and keeping the lawn trim. That meant he gotta get the cops off when they needa blow a nut, as well as sometimes whoeversoelse was walking around town with a uncontrollable stiffy. Better to let Hassle get ’em off than have ’em groping waitresses and nice girls.
Now Wayne remembered him well. Those colorful tattoos was German quotes in gothic letters, iron crosses and swastikas. He claimed before that he weren’t a Nazi. He done join the Aryan Way in prison, before he got this trustee job. Wayne weren’t sure he believed Hassle wasn’t a real Nazi. It was believable enough though. Wayne ain’t much care. He wouldn’t leave Hassle alone with a little Jewish girl, let’s leave it at that. From Wayne the Ex-Cop
In the back cell, the biggest, there was a well-furnished cell. Inside sat a cuehead Hassle. He was tall and stacked with corded muscles, and he glowered at the assembled wrestlers. Something about him was offputting to them — he had a big square face, no neck and a broad body covered with scars and swastika tattoos. His flat mien made the wrestlers all fall silent and awkward. They were quieter than ever. Not even Coach Marshall could get them that quiet. It was those white-power tattoos that did it. Some of them was bigger than Hassle, but they all sensed he could and would kick their asses if he wasn’t a trustee. Being a trustee meant he was a prison lifer, he just worked off his sentence here at the local precinct. He mopped floors and mowed lawns.
It was Hassle — an Aryan skinhead who was the trustee here at the jail and who Buck knew. They’d met a year or two back. Hassle was big and broad, but his head and chest were hairless and his skin was as pale as a piglet.
There, mopping the floor, was a tall, burly and broad-shouldered white man with a shaved head and a thick square jaw like Buck’s. He wore workpants and a denim shirt that read TRUSTEE in big block letters above his heart.
He was a bull-headed man with portentous tattoos, including a bright red swastika upon his back. He was muscular and broad-shouldered, and he put out ignore even when t’was clear Buck was staring at him.
A muscular man with a shaved head came to the cell bars in that other cell at the back of the jailhouse. He was solid as bricks, arms like steel girders, shoulders broader than a doorway. He wasn’t as tall as Jimmy, but he was cut, while Jimmy was more meaty. Anyway, his size wasn’t what Jimmy focused on, once his eyes focused on the man. It was his tattoos. Specifically, the iron cross on his neck and the swastika on his bicep.
You could tell Hassle been in prison a long time cuz his skin was pale as plaster — he was chowder white fer real, in ‘tween the colorful swastikas and German words. His asscheeks in particular ain’t seed the sun in decades. Buck do skimp to starkers off and on, so’s his own booty got a tan to it.
Hassle’s cell was the last one on the left. It was bigger than the others, and it had a small teevee, a chair and personal photos, clothes and shelves all over. The other cells were unfurnished except for a toilet and sink.
The only cell with a’rythang in it was Hassle’s, the last one on the left. T’was outfitted with a bunk covered in nice blankets and pillows, a bean-bag chair, a writing desk with pictures of his daughter upon it and a mirror aside the sink and toilet.
The Alpha Jock & the Trustee: Jimmy is a college football jock whose throbbing stiffy distracts him and gets him into trouble… Lucky for him, the local cops keep a trustee ready for just this sort of need. His name is Hassle, a muscle-bound Aryan who will do as he is told, even if that means getting Jimmy off time and time again! Can Jimmy handle the man-on-man action he’s in for?
Winston Steel is a recovering alcoholic, ex-con and devout Christian.
Descriptions
Steel was a broad-ass black man, curling his lip at Nicholas, his work-faded jeans sagging. He wore a big gold crucifix atop his wifebeater, along with a leather jacket.
Avery turned around. Afront him was a towering black man in a black leather jacket and black-cat shades. He was thick-chested, powerfully built but not cut — he had gigantic fleshy arms visible in the bulge-filled wifebeater he wore under his black leather jacket. Who wears a sleeveless shirt under a leather biker jacket? Avery recognized him from the meeting, but he couldn’t put a name to the face. The jacket smelled musky like an old potato, Avery caught a whiff of it during the meeting and that was all he could think about then. He shook Avery’s hand. Avery was a petite man, while Steel’s mitt was huge and leathery like a bearskin rug.
This nigga named Steel came by. He was a plump darkskin man with a handsome face, etched features, high cheekbones. He bebopped into the back like he was in a music video in his mind… Steel was tall and powerfully built but not at all cut. He had a nice juicy body, it was hard to describe, full of padding and firmness at the same time, like a beanbag… Steel was big and thick-bodied by nature, each of his thighs jiggling and quivering while his muscles flexed again and again, like it took every ounce of strength just to turn around and lay on his back on Desmond’s bunk.
Steel was Nubian perfection itself, looking like Osiris but not with a jackal head, with a normal nigga head, but shit, Steel was pharaohic and majestic back then, if he was the King of Sheba he’d a-fucked that bitch right! Proper willy, y’all!
Steel dropped his hefty pants and bared his giant pair of asscheeks. He was a hefty kinda nigga, with the kinda buttcheeks fat girls have, but he had ’em atop a powerhouse nigga’s kinda buttcheeks. Best of both worlds.
Steel the Roughneck: Steel is off to work on an oil rig, which means he’s surrounded by men without any women to tame them! Him and Lem are the only two American black men on board, and they need to get their rocks off one way or another. That’s a recipe for hardcore man-on-man action, which Steel just might have to endure… Can Steel get through his stint as a roughneck?
Steel and the Whiteboy Skater: Mucker has gotta quit drinking! That means AA meetings and working with his sponsor Winston Steel, who’s got some “interesting” ideas about how to motivate a drunk to quit. He’ll drill sobriety into Mucker one way or another! Can Mucker handle Steel’s brand of man-on-man hijinks?! Read it now!
Avery’s Adventures in Interracial Manlust: Avery’s gotta stay outta prison, and that means satisfying his AA sponsor Winston Steel. But Steel just might be more than Avery can handle — he’s a lotta man! Luckily, Avery loves big men and their big swinging meats, and Steel sure gets Avery’s motor revving… But Steel has a history in prison, which means Avery …
Winston Steel & the White Man: Steel’s an alcoholic, an ex-con and an alphamale with mixed feelings about white men. His years in prison, dealing drugs and working on an oil rig have given him plenty of opportunities to form opinions on ’em. And he’s ready to share ’em all! But that’s not the only thing he’s gonna share. Steel’s had legions of man-on-man experiences at the top and on bottom. He’s done it all, and you’re about to get every one of the macho, manly, hardcore and raunchy details!
“Pass it up, nigga!” “You dribble like a retard, man, send it over here. You know you won’t know what to do wit’ it.” Avery sat on the ground near the basketball hoop. He had a basketball with him. He didn’t like his basketball because it was clean. He had just bought it at All-Mart a few minutes ago. It hadn’t occurred him to use it a little first. It was very obviously brand-new, and it made him stand out as an outsider here. “Take that shot, Rakhim! Take the shot! Take-“ “Ah, nigga!” Rakhim was one of the guys playing basketball. He was younger than the others — he had just turned eighteen a few days ago; the rest of the men playing were at least in their late twenties, some well into their forties.
Avery tried not to feel too self-conscious. He was in a public court in one of the worst ghettos of inner-city Baltimore. He stood out because he was the only white person here — what was even weirder was that he was, by far, the lightest-skinned person here: there wasn’t even a single light-skinned black person anywhere at the court. He also stood out because he was watching but not from the sidelines. He was there at the front of the court, behind the basket, so he was almost knocked over a few times as they played.
“Yo, whiteman, bounce it up.” A ball landed near Avery. His heart skipped a beat as he picked it up and bounced it back to Rakhim. He was young and broad-shouldered, with tight, taut muscles that were dappled in sweat. He was on the “skins” team, so he was shirtless — Avery had watched him deliberately get himself on the skins team, presumably because he wanted to show off in front of the girls who chatted on the sidelines. None of the girls appeared to be paying much attention, but Rakhim smiled at them and made sure they got lots of views of his six-pack abs. As confident as Rakhim was in front of the girls, he showed less confidence in front of the older men he played with. Rakhim was smaller than any of them, and he was easily the most handsome, so they all treated him like a prettyboy. He wasn’t scarred or heavily tattooed, and he had a smooth, unblemished face. “Watch this dunk, nigga!” Rakhim shouted. He was much too short to be dunking, wasn’t he? Avery wasn’t a basketball expert, but he didn’t think someone like Rakhim had any chance of making it. Sure enough, Rakhim slammed the ball onto the rim but didn’t make it in the basket. He landed on the ground and groaned as the other players all burst into applause. The girls stopped chatting and watched, giggling while Rakhim stood, stony-faced, grimaces flashing over his eyes. He tried to smile good-naturedly. “You must be this tall to dunk-!” “That is why you got fired from Dunkin’ Donuts, nigga!” “Yo, Rakhim, you gonna dunk ’bout two minutes after that whiteman over there.” They all laughed. Avery blushed, but he didn’t respond. He grabbed the basketball he had brought with him, lifted it over his head and licked the underside of it. He made sure it looked like he was licking a testicle. All of the basketball players were quiet for a moment. The girls watching from the sidelines laughed — but they were confused, not recognizing the ball-slurping for what it was. Then the basketball players chuckled dryly and resumed the game. There was some faint whispering and casual glances in Avery’s direction, but no one spoke to him. That was fine with Avery. He knew how to do this. It was one of the middle-aged guys that came to talk to Avery. He was probably the oldest one here, with a burly body covered with gray-tinged chest hair. He had a gravelly voice like he gargled with nails, so low and spine-tingling that Avery struggled to understand his words. “Yo, wuzzup? Whatchoo want, whiteman?” Avery giggled as girlishly as he could manage. “I just wanted to jerk some dick. Do you know anyone with a dick?” He glowered. He spat on the ground. “You payin’?” “I’ll pay you and him five hundred dollars if I get to jerk off Rakhim over there,” he said. The man chuckled. “So you go’n pay me? For his dick? He my nephew, you know.” “I’ll pay him too.” Avery smiled. “Or if you’d rather, I’ll pay a thousand dollars to the whole lot of you. All ten of you. Hundred bucks each.”
He thought for a moment. “Nah. You pay me. The whole amount, thousand dollars. Don’t tell Rakhim you payin’.” He paused, thought for a moment and rolled his eyes. “Nevermind, no. His daddy’s my brothah. You pay him the whole thousand dollars.” He sighed again like he really didn’t want to do that. “His daddy’s doin’ time. I gotta do what’s right… Fine, you pay him a thousand dollars. But don’t tell him till it’s done. I go’n mess wit’ him.”
The game seemed to have paused. The middle-aged man — Reg– jogged back off to the other older players. They spoke in hushed tones. It sounded like they had sent Reg to see what Avery wanted. They all laughed, then hushed each other. Rakhim shot baskets lazily. He glanced back at the others, and he made eye contact with Avery then looked away. “Alright, you shitheads got the ball,” Reg said, and the huddle at the far end of the court broke up. The game resumed. Avery watched, slowly licking the basketball in front of his face. He heard some of the girls mutter catty insults about him, but Avery didn’t mind. He serviced a lot of alpha men, which tended to piss off females. He knew that. It was normal. He could handle the bitches. “You ain’t nevuh got a dunk in, Short Stuff,” Reg said to Rakhim. Short Stuff must have been an old nickname for him, because Rakhim sucked on his teeth and scowled like he hated it. “Rakhim’s the only one here who ain’t nevuh one time dunk.” “He can’t do it, nigga, no one that short can dunk. He shorter than Spud Webb.” “I ain’t!” Rakhim yelled. “Nah! I’m five nine, nigga! I’m taller than Spud Webb! All y’all fuckers shut yo’ mouths! Spudd Webb was five seven. I can dunk any time I want, nigga.” They laughed. Even some of the girls watching laughed, and Avery chuckled. Rakhim seemed to realize he had come across as very defensive. He grabbed the ball from one of the other players. “I got two inches on Spud Webb!” Rakhim shouted, even though he knew it made him look even more defensive — he just couldn’t help himself. Rakhim grabbed his cock, its massive shaft momentarily outlined by his sweaty basketball shorts. Rakhim laughed cockily. “I got more than two inches on ‘im, man, I swear to God!” He pumped his biceps. “How you know how big Spud Webb’s dick is?” “Yo, are you sayin’ you swallowed Spud Webb’s dick?” Rakhim shouted, “Y’all can slurp the sweat off my balls! Fuck you! I can dunk! I’ll take you all on, motherfuckers!” He paced in a little circle as though he was going to challenge someone to a fight but couldn’t decide who. His fuming just made the others laugh more. The men laughed and clutched each other’s half-naked bodies as they watched. Five of them wore sleeveless shirts, and four (plus Rakhim) were shirtless, but they all pawed at each other’s sweaty muscles while Rakhim shouted. They laughed as though it was the funniest thing they had ever seen. “Nah, nah,” Reg’s deep voice cut through Rakhim’s yelling, and he had such gravity and authority in his tone that everyone fell silent immediately. Even Avery stopped laughing. Reg’s chest rumbled. “Nah. Nah, nigga. None of us gonna slurp the sweat off ya balls.” “Damn right.” “You still the little’un, Rakhim. And you only just turned eighteen.” “I’m an adult, nigga, fuck you. I can dunk. You ain’t gotta show me disrespec’,” Rakhim said. He sucked on his lip. Reg chuckled and placed one hand on his shoulder. “Look, young pup, you wanna show us what you got? Go for it. Let’s make a bet. You get three dunks, nigga. If you make one of ’em, you win and Slim Jay here gonna set you up wit’ one of his fine-ass hos.” Slim Jay was one of the other players, on the Shirts team. He wasn’t dressed like a pimp now, but he was clean and had brand-new sneakers and about fifteen trashy-looking women cheering him on. Slim Jay was the only one with his own cheering section. Slim Jay pointed towards the girls cheering him. “You can pick which one you want, man.” “Sharlene. I want Sharlene.” There was a moment of silence, and the men all laughed. Rakhim’s face was tight and pinched, and he bit his lip. “You in love wit’ a whore, nigga?” “You gonna eat that bitch’s cummy, flappy pussy?” “No! She just hot! She got ass all over, nigga, and I heard she suck dick good. That’s all! I don’t love her, no way,” Rakhim said. He sighed because none of the men could hear him over their own taunting. He crossed his arms over his bare chest. “Anyway, whatever, fuck you, Slim Jay. I could get her anytime I want. I could get a freebie. Girls love my meat, nigga. She be beggin’ for it if-“ “Nah.” Slim Jay said. He got up real close, and laughter stopped. His face was less than an inch from Rakhim’s. Since he was taller than Rakhim, he had to stoop over so his eyes lined up. “Nah, Rakhim. You ain’t gonna do that. She my girl. I love her. She know that. Ain’t nothin’ you do gonna change that. She don’t do freebies. She love me too much to betray me like that.” After a long pause, Slim Jay kissed Rakhim on the lips. It was a momentary, dry, chaste kiss that ended as soon as Rakhim pushed him away. Despite it lasting only a half a second, the kiss made Rakhim howl and wipe his lips off as though he had just kissed battery acid. The other men laughed and clutched each other for support once more. “Ya got a new boyfriend, Rakhim? You gonna turn tricks for Slim Jay?!” Slim Jay smiled as they all hooted at Rakhim, who switched his hostile glares from Slim Jay, to the others, to the girls who shouted for more from the sidelines. But Slim Jay was already jogging away, to Avery. He wangled his dick in his jeans and smiled at Avery. “Yo, man. Gimme ten bucks for kissin’ Rakhim. I know you got off on that.” “Uh…” Avery wasn’t expecting that. He pulled out a twenty dollar bill from his pocket, as he had no ten. “I, uh-“ Slim Jay took the twenty. “Good. The other ten bucks is you payin’ me to watch my ass as I walk away.” He laughed and shook his plump cheeks as he went back to the cluster of older men. Rakhim dribbled by himself in front of the basket, eyeing Avery suspiciously. It looked like Rakhim wanted to practice dunking but couldn’t do so right now without looking weak. “You wanna do this, nigga?” Reg said to Rakhim. “If you can make just one dunk, you get to fuck wit’ Sharlene. If you can’t make a dunk, you gotta stop talkin’ trash ’bout yo’ skills… and you gotta get whiteman over there to slurp the sweat off yo’ balls. And you gotta ram him.” Reg crossed his arms over his chest. The other men did the same, presenting a united front. Rakhim scoffed. “What? Fine, whatever.” Then, like the details hadn’t really sunk in just yet, he said, “Wait, what? What’d you say? I gotta…” “You scared?” “Yo’ daddy’s is a punk behind bars, you know that, right?” “Shut up! My pops ain’t a punk! Fuck you, man.” Reggie scowled and stamped his feet. Reg rolled his eyes. “So whatchoo think? Can you do it? Can you dunk wit’ yo’ tiny ass?”
“Nigguh! Ah…” Rakhim paced again. He was furious that his father’s affairs were being aired in public. He screamed at Reg, “I know you lyin’! My pops ain’t no prison punk!” That made Reg laugh some more, and Rakhim took a deep breath through slitted teeth. “You don’t know jack-shit, old nigga. You don’t know nothin’. My pops don’t act like that. He ain’t fuckin’ around on that ramrod trip on bottom. Nope. No way.”
Reg covered his face as he tried to look serious. “Sure, nigga. Right. I know he introduced you. Julius, right? His name was Julius? You should respect him, he’s yo’ stepmama.” “No he ain’t!” “Alright, Rakhim, you wanna do it? Huh? You takin’ the bet? Quit makin’ a fuckin’ scene and do it. Or don’t, if you don’t think you can dunk…” Rakhim flared his nostrils and nodded. “Hell yeah, ‘course I can do it. I can dunk, nigga. I can get all three, I bet. I can dunk, no problem. Three dunks in a row.” “Let’s see it then…” Reg said with a wry grin. He and the other men lined up like they were watching a free throw. They clapped and hooted. The girls watching from the sidelines did the same thing. Rakhim went back a few yards so he could run up to the basket. He dribbled a couple times. He shook his short braids out of his eyes and ran his fingers over his scalp. His tight pectoral muscles flexed and rippled. Then he ran for it. He dribbled down the court, between the rows of clapping men and leapt. Since Avery was there by the basket, he got a good look at Rakhim’s cock pressed against the fabric of his shorts. And he missed. Rakhim whiffed completely. He barely touched the basket at all and didn’t even get the ball near the rim. Laughter exploded from the other men. Rakhim roared and screamed profanities. His eyes bugged out. Some of the girls called out supportive words, which only seemed to make Rakhim angrier. He raced back to try again before anyone could even tell him to hurry up. He ran faster, not even really dribbling anymore — he dribbled a bit, but if this was a real game, he’d have been called out for traveling. He got closer, but this time he merely touched the rim with the ball. There was a metallic clang, but no basket. Again, the audience all erupted in clapping. Avery joined in, shouting encouragement even though he wanted Rakhim to lose more than anything. He paused for a long time before his third try. He hushed the crowd, which made the other players laugh harder before Reg told them all to be quiet. “Nah, let him concentrate, man. We gotta give him a chance. Let him try,” Reg said until they all fell silent. Slim Jay even made his hos shut up. Rakhim took a deep breath and ran forward for his last try. It was, once again, a miss. He got it on the rim and it almost went in but bounced right off. No dunk. Rakhim lowered his head and closed his eyes. He frowned and tightened his hands into fists as the other players alternated between teasing and sarcastic words of support. “You suck, nigga!” “Short Stuff! Short Stuff!” “You tryin’, nigga, you get a medal for tryin’. You got spunk, man. You got gumption.” “Gumption! Short Stuff full of gumption! And spunk!” “Spud Webb’s spunk…” “Fuck you! Fuck you!” Rakhim screamed. He threw the basketball away as hard as he could. It sailed over the fence and bounced into the road outside the court. A few of the girls booed. “Ah, don’t be a shit, Rakhim,” Reg said. “Jesus Christ, you’re such a little bitch sometimes.” “Say that to my face, Uncle Reg!” “I just did say it to yo’ face, motherfucker! Open yo’ ears!” Reg laughed and mimed plucking something from Rakhim’s ear. Rakhim bristled and rubbed his ear as though he thought there was something in there. Reg clasped Rakhim on the shoulder and squeezed. “Chill the fuck out, nigga.” “We just givin’ ya shit, man. You ain’t gotta throw the ball away. That’s a punk move.” “If we was in lockup, nigga, I’d stab yo’ ass for that. I’d stab ya in the ass, and then, once I blew my nut inside ya, I’d stab you wit’ a shiv.” They all laughed at Rakhim’s heavy breathing. Rakhim’s eyes were narrowed to slits. He looked so furious he might explode. “Yo, you gonna do what you promised?” Reg asked. “Huh? You gonna back out like a loser?” “Nah. Nah. No.” Rakhim bristled. His anger broke, and he glanced back at Avery. He took a deep breath, rolled his eyes and forced a smile on his face. “Whatever. Fine. Let him suck the sweat off my balls. Fuckin’ bitch. I ain’t, you know… I ain’t some squeamish nigga, you know. I don’t fuck around on the downlow, but I could. I could. I could. I just got females, y’know. I ain’t a bitch who can’t get no pussy. I ram a male, sure, I ram a male, you know… I would ram a male, if I needed to. Sure. No problem, nigga. If we was in prison, I’d-a done took whiteman back there to be my bitch. He’d already be doin’ my laundry, you know, hand-washin’ my drawers. I be eatin’ that bitch’s fruit cup from day one.” “Is ‘fruit cup’ how young’uns say ‘asshole’ now?” “I do it, no problem.” Rakhim seemed to be trying to convince himself as much as anyone else. “Sure. Where? I ain’t invitin’ no man into my mama’s house.” “Right here, nigga. We do it how yo’ daddy make love to his boyfriend, wit’ all his boys blocking the view from the screws,” Reg said. “Get in a circle, niggas.” Before Avery even realized it was going to happen right here — there was a public bathroom in the courts, so that’s where Avery assumed they were going — the nine players had come to him and formed a circle. Avery leaned against the pole supporting the basketball hoop. He had his own basketball in hand, but he dropped it to the ground and held it in place with one foot. With nine very large men in a tight circle, flesh-on-flesh, there was no way to see in from outside. Even if you got up real close and tried to look through their legs, all you’d see was low-hanging basketball shorts. You’d have to get all the way down on your belly to see anything, and even then you’d only be able to tell that Avery was on his knees. Rakhim stood there in the center of the circle. His eyes closed, hands on his waist, his pert chest muscles rose and fell as he breathed heavily. He gulped. He tried to put on a tough-nigga face. “Alright, man, get to it. I got some sweaty-ass balls right now-“ Someone pulled down Rakhim’s shorts and his drawers, laughing when it made Rakhim bristle. He had a nice thick cock dangling between his legs, and heavy balls with sweat dripping off his kinky black hairs. Avery wanted to get started right away before Rakhim decided to drop out. He dove his head between his legs and let both balls plop into his mouth. He gurgled moistly, making as much noise as he could because it made Rakhim bite his lip with embarrassment while the others clapped and cheered. Rakhim shuddered. He had never had his balls licked before, not really — he’d had girls lick his sac a bit, but they were never willing to suck on his balls. He was ticklish, which he thought would make him look weak so he tried to avoid reacting. But the more he resisted, the more Avery teased his taint with his tongue, making Rakhim giggle like a schoolboy. “Quit playin’, quit playin’…” Rakhim muttered. Avery suckled all the sweaty balljuice off his body. He even got way down deep between Rakhim’s legs and slurped like he was trying to suck his taint right off. Rakhim was ungodly funky right now, with fresh sweat dripping in rivers down Avery’s throat — Rakhim was sweaty because he was playing basketball on a humid summer afternoon, and because he was nervous about showing off his cock in front of a bunch of older men. But he had nothing to be ashamed of. Not only was his cock plenty big, but it got hard right away — almost too quickly, Rakhim thought, hoping no one noticed that he got an erection easily, as though he was with a girl. “Throat him down, Rakhim!” His plump cocktip pushed into Avery’s throat. Avery deep-throated him right away, prompting the other men to clap again. Rakhim shuddered and closed his eyes. He leaned back against the pole holding up the basketball hoop. “Course, I’ll throat him down, man,” Rakhim said. His voice sounded a lot less confident than his words suggested, which made the other men chuckle. Rakhim snorted. He took a deep breath and grabbed Avery by the head. And then he let go and laughed. His laughter was tremulous and anxious. Rakhim had trouble focusing. He tried again, touching Avery’s scalp, but when he felt Avery’s straight, short, man’s haircut, he laughed nervously again. He pulled his fingers back. “You scared, Rakhim?” One of the older men poked Rakhim in his bare ass with one finger, making Rakhim buck and smack his hand away. “Nah, man, this, uh… This man’s just nasty, that’s all,” Rakhim said. “Whatever. I can ram his throat. I ram hard, you know it. I can make him gag.” He closed his eyes and tried again. He grabbed Avery by the scalp, so tightly it hurt. But Avery didn’t mind, he just swallowed Rakhim down to the root, and he didn’t gag even when his throat cried out for it — Avery had been doing this long enough he could usually suppress his gag reflex. “He ain’t gaggin’, Rakhim. Maybe yo’ dick ain’t big enough.” “You got another, bigger dick somewhere? Whip it out, nigga.” “He… He prolly slurp too many dicks to gag. Ain’t that right, man?” Rakhim asked. He pulled out and lightly slapped Avery on the cheek. “Huh? Is that why you don’t gag?” “Yes,” Avery said, the first thing he had said to Rakhim all day.
“I bet my dick tastes like pussyjuice, don’t it? I was fuckin’ a female earlier. I was dick-deep in her, man.” He beamed proudly, and glanced behind himself to see if the others were impressed. They were not.
“I don’t taste pussyjuice, sorry,” Avery said. “Your dick tastes really good though-“ “You don’t know what real pussy tastes like, whiteman,” Rakhim said. He rubbed his hard cock over Avery’s face, smearing precum over him. “That’s all. I was fuckin’ a female, I swear. Right before I came here. I busted all up in her.” “You ain’t fuck her in the ass?” “Nah. Nah. Not her,” Rakhim said. “Not this morning. I do fuck bitches in the ass, man. No problem.” Avery smiled. “Are you ready to ram me in the ass?” “Hell yeah he is, boy! He gonna get up in there!” “Destroy him, Rakhim!” “Do yo’ daddy proud and wreck his ass!” Avery turned around and bent over. He stuck his ass up high, too high for Rakhim to ram him in it. Rakhim had a beaming, prideful smile on his face until he saw Avery’s tight asshole twinkling in front of his face. Rakhim looked away. “You scared?” “Ain’t you evuh been locked up, Rakhim? This yo’ first time?” Rakhim scoffed. “Course it’s my first time, nigga. I ain’t a booty bandit or nothin’. I ain’t gone inside. Nope. I said that before, nigga. I don’t mess around on the downlow,” he said. “So this ain’t downlow? We can tell everyone?” “No!” “I’m tellin’ yo’ daddy,” Reg said with a grin. “I’m gonna call him right now. You gonna get in there?” Reg fished out his cell phone from his shorts pocket. He dialed a number. “No one prolly gonna answer, on ‘ccount of it’s a smuggled cell phone. They keep it turned off. They gonna call me back if yo’ daddy’s available.” “You ain’t gotta tell my pops, Uncle Reg! Come on! Don’t tell him!” “Why not?” Rakhim’s mouth was agape, and he mumbled like he wanted to come up with a reason but couldn’t think of any. He just thought and stood there with his erect cock resting on the surface of Avery’s ass. Avery got bored with waiting. He reached behind himself and grabbed Rakhim’s dick. His fingers shocked Rakhim out of his reverie, and Rakhim slapped his hands away. “Nah! Don’t tell him, Uncle Reg! Quit playin’! Come on, nigga…” He paused. He grabbed Avery’s hand. “Get yo’ hand back here again, whiteman. You guide my dick in.” He put Avery’s hand right back where it had been before he smacked it away. “Get in there, Rakhim!” Rakhim took a deep breath and pushed his cock in. He gasped and gagged when it finally went in. He closed his eyes, and then he covered them with one ropy-muscled tattooed forearm. His breathing was short and shallow as though he was on the verge of tears. “You evuh ram a male in the ass?! Huh? Fo’ real?” “No, man! I said that! I ain’t nevuh do it. I get pussy. I get females,” Rakhim said with a roar. He pounded on his chest muscles. “I get females beggin’ for my meat, you don’t even know!” The more he bragged, the more the others cackled and jeered at him. They kept squeezing his muscles, pretending to be girls overwhelmed with desire. “Ooh, Rakhim, you turn me on so much, will you lick my butthole?!” “Nothing turns me on more than watching niggas fail to dunk, Rakhim, that’s my kink. Come here and titty-fuck me!” “If I threw a ball at you, Rakhim, could you not catch it? That makes my pussy so wet. I’m a fumble-holic, nigga.” “Ooh, nigga, could you miss an easy lay-up while you fuck me, Rakhim? That’d be so hot.” Someone gave Rakhim the ball that Avery had brought to the court. Rakhim scowled and ignored them, but a chant soon erupted. He held the ball. “Miss it! Miss it! Miss it! Miss it! Miss it! Miss it! Miss it! Miss it! Miss it! Miss it! Miss it! Miss it! Miss it! Miss it! Miss it! Miss it! Miss it! Miss it! Miss it! Miss it! Miss it!” Finally Rakhim screamed in rage — he barely even paid attention to his cock sliding in and out of Avery’s ass right now — and threw the ball. He was behind the basket, so he had to throw it high to get it over the backboard. The ball whiffed completely. It didn’t even touch the net. It bounced away on the ground, and the men erupted in cheers. “That was so hot!” “If you plow hard enough, Rakhim, you might grow some balls. Then you’d be a real boy, just like yo’ fairy godmother promised.” “Fuck you!” Rakhim screamed and threw a punch, but with his dick in Avery’s ass, it was a useless gesture. He just flailed his fist in the direction of one of the men. They all laughed and clapped. Rakhim shouted justifications — mainly claiming that Avery’s movement had distracted him — but no one could hear him over the sound of the others razzing him. Rakhim seemed to realize that the only way out of this was to just finish up. The more he responded, the more the others teased him. He bit his lip, gritted his teeth and grabbed Avery by the cheeks to ram him harder. Then he realized he was touching a white man’s ass, and he let go with a pained grimace. A cell phone rang. Everyone laughed, except Rakhim, who moaned, until Reg hushed them all and answered the phone. Reg serioused up. “Yo, nigga. Yo, I know you gotta pay for this, don’t worry, I put some money in yo’ commissary — nah, it ain’t ’bout none of that, relax. It’s a joke,” Avery said. “Yo’ son is here gettin’ his cherry popped on the court.” “I ain’t a virgin, pops! Shut up, Uncle Reg! Nah, that ain’t what’s happenin’! Nah! Nah!” Rakhim grabbed for the phone, but without pulling away from Avery’s ass. His cock throbbed and sent shivers of pleasure through Avery’s body. Rakhim flailed uselessly towards the phone in his uncle’s hands. Some of the other men slapped his hands down. “Shut up, Rakhim.” “Yeah, there’s some white man hanging out here. We set up a little wager, and yo’ boy ain’t dunk one time — yeah, I know, he still think he can dunk-“ “I can dunk, nigga! My pops seen me dunk! He saw it!” Reg was quiet for a moment. “He say you ain’t nevuh dunk on no regulation basket.” “It was reg’lation, man! It was just as high as this one!” Rakhim pointed to the basket he had missed. “I can do it. I swear to God, I can do it.” “You ain’t gotta swear to God to prove it, nigga. All you gotta do is do it.” “Yeah, so he rammin’ that man. He deep in his ass right now. I think he might be in love.” “Nuh-uh! Fuck you, Uncle Reg! Say that to my face! Come on!” Rakhim shouted. He seemed to have forgotten his dick was in Avery’s ass. Avery squirmed and held back squeals, as the thick shaft in his guts sent paroxyms of pleasure through his body. “He ain’t nevuh get no female, so this is sorta practice, you know. He learnin’ how to use his dick for the first time.” Reg paused and laughed at whatever Rakhim’s father said. Reg cleared his throat. “Hey, so you know that boy? What’s his name, Julius? Yeah. He yo’ cell wife or what?” He paused, then said, “Ha! Tol’ you, nigga.” He put his phone on speaker. The sound of a crowded prison filled the air, macho grunting and a whistle in the distant background. “Go’n, say that again.” A deep, gravelly voice intoned, “Julius’s my boy. He’s my cell wife. I ram him all the damn time, nigga, you know that.” “Nah! Tell ’em the truth, Pops!” Rakhim shouted. “Fuck you all!” They all laughed hard for a long time. Avery found it difficult to follow all this, because he jacked himself off while Rakhim rammed his ass. Rakhim’s cock was rock-hard even as he got embarrassed, and it tickled Avery’s prostate with every thrust of his hips. Soon Avery shot his own load onto the ground. No one noticed because they were focused on Rakhim, who took the phone from Reg and spoke into it — it was off speakerphone now. Rakhim’s voice went from macho and braggy to calm and respectful. “Hey, Pops. Uh-huh. Yeah. I’m doin’ it! Uncle Reg’s being a prick, nigga. I’m- Uh-huh. I know. Yeah. Yeah. Yes, sir,” Rakhim said. His voice was weak now, like he didn’t enjoy showing respect in front of others. He looked down at his cock, still pulsating in Avery’s ass. He stopped moving it, but Avery kept sliding back and forth, up and down on the shaft. “Yeah, I’m rammin’ him. Just… Pops… Come on, man… Yes, sir. I’m… Yeah, I can do it. I won’t. I won’t. I won’t! Shut up, man, I said I won’t! Why you gotta have a cell wife?! Tell him he gotta wear makeup! I got niggas in there, man, they tellin’ e’rybody — Mom don’t know! Mom don’t know ’bout that shit! She don’t know nothin’- Nah, pops! Nah! Nah, nigga!” He paused and sighed. He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, sir, I don’t say the n-word that much, Uncle Reg got me worked up,” he whispered. Then he sighed again and gritted his teeth. An involuntary surge of sensations ran through his body, making his muscles all flex as his hips gyrated, forcing his cock in and outta Avery’s ass. “Yes, sir. Sorry. Yeah. Okay. Yeah. Yes, I’m going to church!” “No he ain’t!” “I ain’t seed him at church!” Reg shouted at the phone. “I am going to church! I missed one week! Just one!” He paused. “I swear to God, Pops, just make him yo’ bitch. I don’t wanna hear that shit. Nah. Nah! He ain’t — Pops! Man, don’t say that! Don’t say that! If he can be yo’ cell wife, he can be yo’ bitch! Make him a bitch! Pimp him out! Fuck you then! No! No! Don’t-! Don’t tell her! Man… I’m sorry, Pops, just chill out. Don’t tell Mom. I ain’t mean it. I just… I got respec’ for you, Pops. I was just mad. Don’t call him yo’ cell wife.” He sighed again. “Yeah, fine. Okay. Yes, sir. I’ll… Yes, I’ll meet Julius next month in visitation. Fine. I’ll be nice. Yes, sir. Don’t tell Mom.” He hung up the phone and handed it back to Reg. “He said he treats Julius like a bitch. He just calls him a wife cuzza prison rules or some shit. Don’t mean nothing.” “Yeah, right.” “Okay, Rakhim,” Reg said with a snorting laugh. “You gonna cum or you gonna fall in love over there?” “He gonna fall in love like his daddy did.” “He ain’t in love! It ain’t real love anyway, it’s prison love. All y’all shut up! He ain’t takin’ dick! He’s on top anyway, I know that!” Rakhim said, his eyes closed. They all tittered with laughter, which made Rakhim frown though he didn’t say anything else. He just gripped Avery by the ass and started ramming again. Then he twitched like he hadn’t meant to touch Avery’s ass with his hands. He grimaced and let go. He kept ramming back and forth though. Avery had already shot his wad onto the floor, so every stroke of Rakhim’s cock inside him just extended his post-orgasmic bliss. His ass was in terrible pain now, since Rakhim had a huge cock and rammed with it clumsily, like he had never stuck anyone in the ass before. But the pleasure of the man’s cock throbbing inside him combined with the arousal flowing through Avery’s body to make him writhe uncontrollably. Avery felt like he was falling apart. “I can ram you so hard, whiteman, you gonna be beggin’ me for mercy,” Rakhim said, his voice trailing off like he realized he was making a boast he might not be able to back up. He wrapped one of his arms around Avery’s throat. “Gonna treat you like a prison bitch. This is prolly how that bitch Julius gets it.” He put Avery in a loose chokehold and slammed his cock in, moving his hips around as though he needed to do it from every angle. He groaned and grunted into Avery’s ear. Avery moaned and bucked, resisting at first then allowing Rakhim to ram him harder and harder. “Fuck you, man, fuck you!” Rakhim hissed directly into Avery’s ear. That made Avery shudder with both fear and desire, and his ass clenched around Rakhim’s cock. At last that was it. Rakhim groaned, and it was obvious he was relieved to finally finish. The other men clapped. His voice broke in Avery’s ear, his breath condensing on his skin. “Oh damn, I guess those balls do work.” Hot cum flew into Avery’s ass. Rakhim was young so his balls were full, bursting with juices. It all flowed into Avery like his cock was a hose, and his cum sprayed throughout Avery’s body. He could feel it trickling into every corner of his flesh. Some of it seeped down his thighs too, trickling onto the ground and the puddle of Avery’s own cum. Rakhim roared and pounded on his chest, breathing heavily. His roar was interrupted by his own gasp, and then he snarled as Reg pinched his asscheek again. “There you go, you got it. You worked hard for yo’ money, nigga,” Reg said. Rakhim nodded. “Uh-huh. Tol’ you. Told you I could do it.” “You said you could make him beg you-“ “He begged. I heard it,” Rakhim said. He pulled out and grimaced, gagging at the sight of Avery’s cum-filled asshole. Avery giggled and squeezed his ass, making a big clump of cum slide down his leg. The men all laughed and clapped. Rakhim took a deep breath. “I did it, nigga.” He paused. “Wait, what? Whatchoo sayin’ ’bout money?” No one answered him. They all exchanged knowing glances. Rakhim furrowed his brow, looking right at Reg. He didn’t notice Avery pull out his checkbook and start writing. “Huh? Uncle Reg, what was you sayin’?” Avery handed Rakhim a check for eleven hundred dollars — the extra was to cover the cost of cashing the check at a payday-loan place. Rakhim took the check, but it didn’t register, he just scowled at Reg. “Uncle Reg, what did-?” He saw the check. “What’s this? Huh?” Avery just walked away, cum still dribbling down his thighs. He squeezed between two sweaty bodies, since the men were still interlocked in a tight circle. He kept his tongue out as he went so he got to lick all the salty sweat off one man’s ebony torso on his way out. Whoever it was jumped away like Avery’s tongue was painful. “Yo, did he just pay me?! Why ain’t you tell me I was gettin’ paid?! Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that, nigga! Hell yeah, I got white men payin’ fo’ my meat. Ain’t nothin’ wrong ’bout that. You tell my pops, right? He won’t believe me. Uncle Reg, you gonna tell him?” “Nah. I will tell yo’ moms though.”
Avery had six months of parole, and he was looking forward to it. He had been assigned to Gerald Richards, a buff black P.O. and ex-drill sergeant. Avery had had to pull a few strings to make sure he was assigned to Mr. Richards’ caseload. He had asked for that because, according to street rumors, Mr. Richards was known to force his parolees to jerk him off. He had a great mustache. Avery was a sucker for a black guy with a mustache. He wanted to suck the hairs right off his upper lip. And he had big broad shoulders that shook as he filled out a form with Avery’s personal information on it. “So you work as a writer? A freelance writer?” “Yep.” “That don’t sound like a real job. I want you to get a real job,” Mr. Richards said. “Yes, sir,” Avery said. He wasn’t going to do that, but he wanted to agreeable. “Do you have any skills?” “Just-“ “Don’t say writin’, man.” “Then no. Sir.” “Alright, I can hook you up with a job at Taco Dell. I know the manager there. I like the way you called me sir without me…” He looked Avery up and down and sucked on his lower lip; the mustache on his upper lip quivered. “Without me makin’ a big deal out of it.”
Damn it. That was it, Avery thought. If Avery hadn’t called him sir, Mr. Richards would have made him throat dick, he was sure of it. That was what the look on his face said. Damn it!
“Oh, uh…” Avery blushed. He quaked. Had he gone through all this for nothing? He was entranced by Mr. Richards’ big muscles, his biceps bulging from the rolled-up sleeve of his stained and faded button-down shirt. Mr. Richards wordlessly filled out his paperwork. “You do drugs?” “No, sir.” “You’re gonna do a piss test next time,” he said. He glanced up and made eye contact with Avery. “What? You look mad. What?” “It’s just…” Avery took a deep breath. He decided to be blunt with him. “I heard a rumor about you, Mr. Richards.” “What? I don’t like rumormongering. I don’t condone it. A man should stand behind the shit he says,” Mr. Richards said. “I heard… you sometimes make guys jerk your dick.” Mr. Richards glowered at him. His dark eyes were expressionless. “What? You insinuatin’ I force my parolees into somethin’?” He watched Avery pop one of his fingers into his mouth and sucked on it. “Motherfucker, you think I’m a pervert?! That is fucked up. That ain’t no kinda thing I would ever do,” Mr. Richards said. “And I resent you for bringin’ up that kinda scurrilous accusation.” “Oh, I’m sorry-“ “Shut ya lie-hole, pansy. Ain’t not a soul make no kinda accusation of that sort. Sometimes motherfuckahs be beggin’ for a way to prove how much respect they got for me. Y’know… sometimes, motherfuckahs be thinkin’ callin’ me sir is the worst thing I could force ’em to do… only the trick is, I can’t force ’em to do that. I can’t pull no words outta someone’s mouth. So I gotta focus on gettin’ respect out of ’em through some other means. Ya feel me?” He stood up and came closer to Avery. He grabbed him by the chin and played with his lower lip. “You wanna jerk my dick?” “Yes!” Avery immediately moved to grab for his crotch, but Mr. Richards slapped his hand away. “I ain’t say you could. I was just doin’ a survey like, for gauging general interest among the populace,” Mr. Richards said. He pointed to a spot on the floor. “Get on yo’ knees.” Avery did as he was told. His heart thumped. He was going to get to do this after all. “You know our meetin’ is done, right? I ain’t keepin’ you here no more? I’d rather you leave, to be honest,” Mr. Richards said. He unzipped his slacks and pulled out a massive cock. When Avery went for it, Mr. Richards slapped him. “I ain’t consent to you throatin’ it. I’m still makin’ sure you know I don’t like you, and I don’t want you throatin’ my dick. This ain’t how I get off. I ain’t like that. Strikes me as unbiblical,” he said. “That ain’t the parole department’s opinion, mind you, that’s a personal thought and I gots a right to it.” “Yes, sir.”
“I think this is a tool,” he said. He flopped his limp dick over Avery’s face. Avery opened his mouth to lick, but Mr. Richards slapped him again. “Get that tongue back in yo’ mouth, boy. This here is my tool, not ya lollipop. It’s a tool I use to insert respect back into mouthy motherfuckahs who lost they respect in some tragic accident. Ya feel me? It ain’t yo’ personal plaything.”
“Yes, sir.” “Now, I am gonna ram you in the throat cuz you asked me nice and I like the way yo’ lips is all soft and shit,” he said. He rubbed Avery’s lips with one callused finger. “Don’t you dare be spreadin’ none of them falsities ’bout how I make men jerk me off. I don’t do that. That’s against regulations.” “Yes, sir.” “You seducin’ me right now. You turnin’ this office into a hostile work environment ‘gainst me, boy. I oughta cite you for that,” he said. He chuckled throatily as he spread Avery’s lips with his fingers and rubbed his limp dick over Avery’s gums and teeth. “You may open ya mouth.” Avery did so, as wide as he could, and he swallowed Mr. Richard’s dick down to the root. He looked up at Mr. Richards’ surprised face — he probably didn’t normally get dome from guys who could deep-throat like Avery. Mr. Richards held onto the back of Avery’s head and plowed into him, treating his mouth like it was a pussy. His balls slapped against Avery’s chin. “Alright boy, no spillin’ my nut, that ain’t respectful,” he said. Then he chuckled. “What am I sayin’? I ain’t gotta tell you that. I bet you love swallowin’ nut.” His chuckling broke as he orgasmed. He slammed his dick all the way in. Avery could feel him orgasm in the throbbing of the vein on his dick, which pulsated against Avery’s tongue. But Mr. Richards’ dick was so deep in his throat that Avery didn’t taste the actual cum at first, just the precum that already coated his shaft. “Hmmm… boy, you drainin’ me, that’s good…” His voice was low and rumbly like velvet sandpaper, and he bucked his hips, making sweet love to Avery’s throat. He gripped his hair tightly, rubbing his crotch and balls all over Avery’s face.
Finally, he pulled out, and the taste of salty-sweet cum assaulted Avery’s senses. He moaned and swallowed every drop, even as his belly contorted and his lungs cried out for oxygen. He slathered Mr. Richard’s dick with spit and cum as he let it slowly plop out.
“Goddamn, boy.” Mr. Richards said with a chuckle. Avery gasped for air. “Hmmm… You taste so good… I love your dick, Mr. Richards, I-“ “Hush. I don’t need you to talk,” Mr. Richards said. The mustache on his upper lip quivered. He sighed and leaned back. “Shit…” “Hmmm…” Avery smacked his lips and wiped his face off. “I didn’t spill any, I promise.” He quickly put his own clothes back on. It was always best, he thought, to leave them wanting more, so he intended to leave right away. Mr. Richards nodded. “Hey, boy.” “Yes, sir?” Avery headed for the door. “I take back what I said about my dick not bein’ your personal lollipop. You can come back and jerk me off whenever you want,” he said. He handed his business card over, with his home address written on it. “Okay?” “Yes, sir!”
Avery waited in the McDonnell’s with his computer open, though he didn’t do anything with it. He wasn’t here to use to his computer, that was just a ruse. Instead, he waited. A half-dozen guys came in wearing yellow reflective vests. One was young and skinny, and he had a cold. Avery didn’t like him that much, so he waited. He sipped his coffee, which was cold by then. Finally, another group of workers came in. The van they had parked outside read Jambone Construction. There was a plump redneck with shaggy blond hair, and another, leaner redneck with a vaguely Nazi look to his shaved head. There was a trio of rotund Mexicans. There was a middle-aged black man with wild eyes and a fat belly. The last one was Gambo, a black man with a powerful body and a scruffy beard. He didn’t have a six-pack, but he had a flat belly and thick ass. Gambo looked groggy, like he had just woken up. “Yo, you best call Mr. Lillen,” said the other black guy. Gambo rolled his eyes and nodded. “Man, I need a break.” “You’re on break,” the other black said with a scoff. He got into line to place his order at the McDonnell’s counter. “I mean… like a real break, y’know,” Gambo said, though no one listened to him except Avery who pretended not to see him.
Gambo stalked off into the bathroom, already sneaking sips from his flask. Avery timed himself perfectly to get up a few seconds later and follow him in there. He slipped in the door quickly, pushing past Gambo, who was shocked — this was a small McDonnell’s with individual bathrooms, not stalls. Gambo was too surprised to stop Avery from going in with him.
They were both in a dingy room that stank of piss. There was a filthy toilet and an even filthier urinal there. The sink was clogged with paper towels and the trash can overflowed. “Hey.” “Uh… I was in here first, man,” Gambo said. He looked at Avery dourly as the door slammed shut. “I’ll give you a break.” “What?” Avery reached into his pocket and pulled out a fifty dollar bill. “I’ll give you this if you let me swallow your dick.” After a long pause, Gambo chewed on his lip and said, “I could just take it.” Then he did so, plucking the fifty out of Avery’s fingers. Avery smiled. “You could.” He sunk slowly to his knees, maintaining eye contact with Gambo. “I gotta take a piss.” He grunted. “Damn it, you was talkin’ ’bout gettin’ me off, now I gotta piss but I got a hardon.” He paused. “Fuck… When we done, you best stay in here, I don’t want them out there seein’ you come outta here at the same time as me.” “Okay.” Avery undid Gambo’s fly. He liked dirty men, so he didn’t take Gambo’s pants off all the way — they were filthy. His jeans were caked with mud, which you could tell was from yesterday; he must have taken his jeans off outside, probably sitting around his traphouse room in his drawers all night. His jeans stank of unwashed clothing, and the musk of his massive brown cock made Avery moan with desire. Gambo leaned back. “You ain’t my first, motherfucker. Don’t think that, I been jerked off by males before.” Avery swallowed the tip of his cock and looked up at him. Gambo’s eyes were closed, scrunched shut, and his lips were pursed. Avery couldn’t decide if Gambo was lying or not. He looked nervous like he had never done this before. It didn’t much matter to Avery though, so he didn’t call him on it. He nuzzled his nose deeply into Gambo’s hairy crotch. The smell of ball-sweat and mud and precum flooded Avery’s senses. He slobbered spit up until it soaked Gambo’s jeans. Gambo hadn’t noticed yet, but it made Avery giggle — his coworkers might notice that and make fun of him for it. His cock was rock-hard and throbbing in Avery’s mouth. Avery moaned, slathering spit all up and down the shaft. As he pulled Gambo’s heavy balls out, his fingers reached up under his tattered tee shirt and the yellow reflective vest he wore. Gambo wasn’t muscular, but he was ropy-muscled and leanly powerful. Avery couldn’t quite reach his pecs because Gambo was so tall, but he teased his nipples, which made Gambo’s pecs bounce. There was a loud banging on the door. Avery and Gambo both jumped. A loud booming laugh rang out from outside the bathroom. “Shit-Shock! Shit-Shock! A shit, Gambo, you ain’t do it right!” “Fuck you, Cooter! I ain’t shittin’!” Gambo snarled. He pounded on the door again. “Then whatchoo doin’ in there?!” The plump redneck outside laughed and pounded on the door. “Nothin’!” Gambo bucked like he was going to fight the door itself. His cock throbbed in Avery’s mouth, while Avery’s heart raced. He loved jerking off men. Gambo pulled out his cell phone and pretended to be making a call. “Yeah, baby, it’s just that redneck-bitch bein’ a shit. I’m still comin’ to see you later.” “You talkin’ to ya female in the shitter?” “Shut the fuck up, Cooter! I don’t play that nasty Shit-Shock game!” Gambo said. He snarled and rolled his eyes as Cooter walked away with the other workers. Gambo gasped — pleasure enveloping him now that the distraction had gone. The “Shit-Shock” game was that no one on the crew was supposed to lock the door when they took a shit, either here or in the office or in the Port-a-Potty at the worksite; if someone realized you were in there taking a shit, they were “allowed” to burst in and throw a cup of ice-water on you. It was a stupid and disgusting game that Gambo saw as too low-brow for him (that didn’t stop him from thinking it was funny when it didn’t involve him).
Realizing that he needed to hurry up, Gambo gripped the back of Avery’s head. His whole body undulated and his knees went weak. He held onto the handicapped-bar with one hand while he slammed his dick all the way down Avery’s throat.
“Damn, boy, shit… Not many girls deep-throat like that,” Gambo said. He let out a little gasp but tried not to let on that this was the best, nastiest blowjob he ever had. “You know that site on Cherry Hill? We’re buildin’ an elementary school. You should come there, man, tell ’em you gotta verify a delivery. They’ll get me.” His voice broke. Avery nodded. He opened his throat as wide as possible as he felt Gambo’s balls crawl up in his sac where it rested against Avery’s chin. Then cum sprayed down his gullet, coating his belly in creamy warmth. Gambo had heavy balls that shot a giant load, more and more continually flowing into him until Avery thought he couldn’t possibly swallow anymore. “Goddamn…” Gambo stayed in position right there above Avery’s head, gripping his scalp. Outside, his coworkers launched into a rowdy round of laughter, and Gambo scrunched his eyes shut tight. Avery pulled off and grinned. “Thanks,” he said as he wiped his lips off. “You have a nice dick.” Gambo sniffled. “I know.” Avery stood, stretching his legs. “You can go, I’ll wait a few minutes then leave by myself.” Gambo nodded. “Okay. Don’t forget, keep comin’ by the worksite. Bring fifty bucks, I’ll let you jerk me off every day.” “Oh… I’m not that kinda guy,” Avery said. “I might come by and see you again sometime. But not every day.” “Why not? Ain’t I got a good dick?” “You do,” Avery said. He stroked Gambo’s limp dick before Gambo shoved it back in his pants and redid his fly. Avery giggled. “But so do lots of other guys. I’ve gotta service ’em all.”
Avery sat in his car, waiting for his stupid brother-in-law to send him a stupid text message. His sister had asked him to help out with something: giving her no-good husband a ride to his boss’ house to beg for his job back. Avery didn’t like his brother-in-law, but he did love his sister. So he agreed, and now he had to sit out here in his car and wait to get the all-clear to leave. He was about to drive off regardless. If his stupid brother-in-law wanted to get picked up again, he could damn well call and ask for another favor. Finally a text message appeared on his phone: nvrmind, thx Avary, all good. That meant Avery’s brother-in-law presumably had his job back again. Avery was glad for him, even if he did strongly dislike the man. He didn’t get why anyone would give him a second chance. He was especially annoyed that, after four years in the family, his brother-in-law still didn’t know how to spell Avery’s name. That was when Avery saw what appeared to be a naked man, climbing out of the top floor of a three-story building. The man was tall and muscular, tattooed, dark-skinned, with short hair and a handsome face. “You fuckin’ piece of shit! I’ll kill you!” A lanky middle-aged white man stuck his head out the window and screamed. Then he ran out, following close behind the black man.
The black man was Tyrell, and he had one hand over his flopping cock as he climbed down the fire escape. He assumed that would be enough to get away from the white man — husband to Tyrell’s latest conquest, whose name was Karen or Carol or something like that.
Tyrell only then saw that this husband was more limber than he seemed. He had long legs and he wasn’t fat like most of the husbands whose wives Tyrell stole. He was rapidly catching up when Tyrell dropped into the alley and ran for the street. He wished he had managed to at least grab his shoes. The pavement here was covered in sharp stones and bits of garbage, and the fire escape rattled above his head where the white man darted down after him. Reaching the street, Tyrell looked left and right, not sure where to go. A police vehicle drove past, but luckily the cop behind the wheel didn’t notice Tyrell standing there naked. Tyrell frowned. He didn’t have a cell phone or any cash on him. He had no car. He had nowhere to go. “Hey, man, need a ride?” Avery’s voice called out from his car. He waved to get Tyrell’s attention. “Hey, man, need a ride?” “Ah, shit, thanks,” Tyrell said. He darted in just as the husband came out of the alley. Avery peeled away in a hurry, and Tyrell breathed a sigh of relief. That sense of relief didn’t last long, however, before Tyrell realized he had gotten into a complete stranger’s car. He was naked, so Tyrell knew he wouldn’t be robbed — he had nothing to steal. But that hardly made this safe. He had been so worried about getting away from that husband that he hadn’t really made sure his sudden escape route was safe. He looked out the car window in time to see the husband shake his fist at the car driving away. Tyrell smirked. He glanced over at the slim black man behind the wheel. “My name is Avery,” the driver said, with a feminine lilt. “I’m Tyrell.” Tyrell sighed and rolled his eyes. “Well, Tyrell, what would you think about… playing around a bit?” Avery’s hand clasped Tyrell’s thigh. Tyrell rolled his eyes and grunted his yes. He sighed more dramatically this time. He acquiesced as Avery’s hand roamed up his well-muscled thigh. But he said, “Nah, man…” “Hmm-hmm.” Avery groped Tyrell’s thigh. “Where do you want to go?” “Ummm… there’s this place out in Crandwell,” Tyrell said. It was the only place he could think of to go. His muscles flexed wherever Avery touched him. He cleared his throat. “I’m technically between places right now. I ain’t homeless or nothin’. There’s this chick out in Crandwell who lets me keep some shit there. I got clothes I can wear — get ya hand off my dick, man.” Avery frowned. Tyrell’s cock was moist and thick, sticking to his leg. Avery had just barely brushed one hand over it to gauge Tyrell’s reaction. “Sorry. I ain’t say you could touch my dick-“ “Can you flex a bicep? You have great arms.” “No.” Avery giggled and stroked Tyrell’s bicep, which was firm even though he didn’t flex it. Avery’s hand moved lower and tweaked Tyrell’s nipple. Touching his nipple made Tyrell’s dick twitch. Tyrell assumed that Avery saw it, though Avery was actually watching the road because he got on the highway. Tyrell sighed. “Don’t read nothin’ into that, my dick ain’t gettin’ hard. I just like it when girls touch my nipples, y’know.” He chuckled throatily. “Hmm-hmm. You’re really handsome.” Avery was a little annoyed that he didn’t get to grope Tyrell’s dick. He had a nice body though, and that felt great beneath Avery’s hand — even that was disappointing because Avery had to watch the road and couldn’t really see Tyrell’s frame or his flexing muscles. “Yeah, whatevuh, man.” Tyrell looked out the window, ignoring Avery’s hand over his chest. “Can I use ya phone? Shit, nah… I don’t know nobody’s numbers.” “How about… if you let me jack you off right now, I’ll let you use my phone, you can message your friends if you want, and I’ll even buy you a new phone if you can’t get your old one back,” Avery said. “What, no shit?” Tyrell scoffed and nodded. “Hell yeah, man!” It was only a handjob, after all, Tyrell thought. He pretended it was fine. It was, really, fine, he assured himself over and over, it wasn’t even his first time with a man. There was a dude in the neighborhood he grew up in who used to jerk off virtually any eighteen-year-old who wanted a blowjob. He had been legendary, and he had throated Tyrell so good Tyrell thought he had broken his cock. But Tyrell had been incredibly horny then, plus drunk. He’d only ever been with two women at that point. He had been desperately horny, and all his friends did it too. They lined up outside the man’s door one night, coming in one by one until the neighbors complained. It would have been weird to not do it at the time. He was drunk enough that it barely mattered, he didn’t even think about it at that moment, and it had only taken about two minutes (he was young, dumb and full of cum). But he had plenty of sex these days. He don’t need none that DL shit. But Tyrell did need a phone and he ain’t want Avery to kick him outta the car, so he just closed his eyes and leaned his head back. His dick was soft and spongy because he had fucked that woman a couple times last night, and his manhood was still recovering. He grinned at the thought of that tight middle-aged pussy. He loved plowing into a pussy some other man thought was his. “You fuck with a lot of married women?” Avery asked. Tyrell scoffed. “Yeah. Guys don’t even know, you don’t own a pussy, y’know, ya gotta earn it, you gotta keep earnin’ it e’ry day. Man, white men gotta have money, ya know, but they don’t realize they females is still out fuckin’ wit’ nigga dick, ya feel me?” “Hmm-hmm…” Avery murmured. Tyrell’s dick was slow to firm up in his hand, especially since Avery was kind of awkward jacking him off in a moving car while he had to also focus on driving. He put it on cruise-control though, now that they were on the highway. “You ever let a guy on you before?” Tyrell nodded. “Once. I was younger then, don’t even try nothin’ now,” he said. “I don’t like messin’ with white dudes. That other nigga got me off real good. But there was this white dude who used to look at me all the time, man. He be hangin’ out in the shower and shit, rubbin’ my back. I know he wanted my dick. I don’t wanna let some white man have that over me, y’know, runnin’ around tell all his little white buddies ’bout the time he got some nigga-dick in his mouth. Nah. No way, nigga, that ain’t how I play.” “It sounds like you have a problem with white men,” Avery said. Tyrell’s dick was rock-hard now, veinily throbbing in Avery’s hand. A few drops of precum slipped out, lubricating him, and Tyrell sighed. Avery giggled. “I ain’t lettin’ you jerk me off neither,” Tyrell said because he could see Avery’s eyes intently staring at his dick — he knew Avery was going to try to throat it sooner or later. “Nah, I ain’t into that. Nothin’ personal, no offense.” “No offense taken.” Tyrell grabbed Avery’s hand as it stroked his dick, and he guided it up and down more quickly. “Like that, good, like that, nigga.” He sighed. Tyrell’s hips pumped, so he humped Avery’s hand just as much as Avery’s hand stroked him. He was surprised at how good the handjob really was. He’d never really enjoyed a handjob like this. He grunted and bit his lip. His breathing sped up as he tried to hump Avery’s hand harder, lifting his hips off the seat. “Damn, nigga-” He choked off his own words as pre-orgasmic pleasure surged through him. He gasped. Avery teased him by stopping, squeezing his dick but not moving his hand again — Tyrell was on the edge of his orgasm, so that made him writhe in frustration and use both of his hands to again force Avery’s hand to move once more. Avery smiled and did so, as Tyrell’s dick erupted in a torrent of cum. “Oh fuck-!” It sprayed all over his bare chest, coating his smooth brown skin in creamy goodness. Avery giggled because it just kept on coming, even though he’d fucked last night, he just had big dangling balls that were chock-full of creamy cum. His wad clung to his muscles and dripped from his pecs. “Ah, shit!” Tyrell said through gritted teeth. A few beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. He couldn’t believe a simple handjob felt this good, and he hoped Avery didn’t get the wrong idea about him because of it. “Ah, nice, nigga, keep strokin’… Hmmm…” He licked his lips. “Don’t let go-” He grunted. “Stroke it real slow now, real slow…” Tyrell’s whole body undulated and he moaned, jetting out a long flow of jizz. Avery’s hand got coated in cum, and Tyrell’s dick soon was soft again, exquisitely sensitive. Tyrell’s whole body trembled as Avery kept on stroking until Tyrell couldn’t take it any more and pushed his hand away. “Good timing,” Avery said. He sucked the cum off his finger, the sound of which made Tyrell gag — girls were never that enthusiastic about cum. Avery grinned as he sucked every drop of salty, cum-drenched man-chest. He pulled off the highway into Crandwell. “We’re almost there.” “Yeah, cool,” Tyrell said. He chuckled, trying to recover his breath without looking impressed. It was just a handjob, a mandingo-nigga like himself couldn’t get excited over a handjob without blowing his rep. He heaved for air as casually as he could manage. “Cool. You better buy me that phone.”
“I will. Where’s this house you can get clothes at?”
Tyrell gave him directions to a tony neighborhood a ways off the highway. There he pulled up to a house with a pool out back. “Don’t worry, I fuck wit’ this divorced lady, she don’t need to hide nothin’.” He got out, wrapping a jacket around his waist so he could walk to the front door without flashing the neighborhood. He had no sooner stepped out, however, when a slightly haggard woman came out of the front door. “No way, Tyrell! Get outta here! My husband’s back!” “What?” “My husband’s back! You gotta go-“ A burly middle-aged white man came out from behind the house. He saw Tyrell’s mostly naked body. “What the fuck’s going on? Who are you?” Tyrell was crestfallen for a couple reasons. Most importantly, he was shocked that she had chosen her husband over him. She’d been bad-mouthing her husband for more than a year. She said over and over that Tyrell was younger, sexier, bigger-cocked, better-in-bed and just plain more charming. He was better in every way than her ex-husband. So what, Tyrell thought, was wrong with him? Why had she chosen the husband over him? Not that long ago, he could say “all I care about is smashing sum pussy” and that was true; now, Tyrell wasn’t so sure. “Huh? Whatchoo doin’, man? You best get outta here!” The man’s face turned ruddy, and he came closer. “You tryin’-a mess wit’ my wife?” Tyrell was used to messing around with nerdy white guys’ wives, not big men like him. He didn’t like retreating but he had few options. He took a step back then darted back into Avery’s car. “Drive.” “What’s happening?” Avery was confused, scared of the large white man approaching his car. “What the fuck is going on?” said the white man. “You coming at my wife, boy?” “Just drive!” Avery ripped the car into reverse and floored it out of the driveway. Luckily no one was coming on the street or Avery might have backed right into them. He peeled away towards the highway. “Shit,” Tyrell said. He sighed. “Well, fuck.” “You wanna go get that phone now then?” “Yeah, I guess so,” Tyrell said. Now he really didn’t know what to do. Now, he thought, he was technically homeless. But he didn’t say that just yet. “Do you… want to stay with me?” Avery asked. He got the feeling from Tyrell’s silence that he now needed a place to stay. Tyrell shrugged. “Do, I, uh… gotta… pay rent?” “Sort of,” Avery said with a giggle. “I only have one bed.” There was a long awkward silence in the car. Tyrell wrinkled his nose. “Fine. But you gotta buy me stuff. Not just the phone. Like I need some clothes and shit, and, uh… a toothbrush.” “Sure.” “And…” There was so much going on that Tyrell struggled to think of something nice he could demand. “Uh… nice clothes. Like real nice clothes.” “Yeah, cool.” Avery drove to the All-Mart. Since Tyrell couldn’t go in without any clothes, he stayed out in the car, while Avery went in to buy a cheap smartphone, some clothes, shoes and a few odds and ends. He was relieved to come out and find Tyrell hadn’t hotwired his car. “These clothes’ll have to do for now,” Avery said. “I’ll buy you some nicer stuff online, okay?” “Fine.” Tyrell felt better when he had some clothes on, and he quickly got to work on his phone. Once he got logged into Facebook, he could send his friends his new number. So he was involved in that and didn’t talk much, or even pay any attention to Avery’s groping of his biceps and limp cock, until they pulled into Avery’s driveway. Avery led him inside. In the house, Avery was disappointed to see Tyrell in clothes. They both kept to themselves for a little while. Tyrell needed to get his life back in order — canceling his old phone, sending desperate messages to that married woman (until she blocked him), bragging to his niggas about the white chick he had boned (which made him feel better). Avery made spaghetti — he had plenty of pasta and jarred sauce, and he figured Tyrell would like to have a big meal that was not quite home-cooked, but still plenty damn good. It was the good kind of jarred sauce anyway. “So do I gotta… you know, perform for my dinner?” Tyrell asked. Avery clucked his tongue. “No. I’m not gonna starve you, Tyrell. You can ram me later tonight, once you’ve eaten.” Tyrell was relieved. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until he saw the food. He slurped down spaghetti, noodles and the leftover Italian sausage Avery had added. Tyrell felt much better once he had eaten. He went in and took a long hot shower, which felt good too. Then he came out before bed, in time to see Avery putting on a silky bathrobe. Tyrell followed him into his bedroom, his heart pounding. He’d never plowed a man in the ass before. Tyrell fucked mainly with middle-aged white women, and while he liked to brag that he got them to give up the booty, that wasn’t really true. He’d only ever had anal sex with four women, and three of them made him quit before he even got his whole dick in there. Tyrell closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. He could do this. It would be easier, he thought, if he just pretended he was with a woman. He leaned in slowly, like women liked, and wrapped his muscles around Avery. He wrinkled his nose when Avery planted his lips on Tyrell’s, but Tyrell submitted as Avery’s tongue invaded his mouth. Avery erupted in moans, stroking Tyrell’s powerful chest, which was moist with shower water. Avery figured Tyrell would feel most comfortable if Avery acted like a woman in love with him, being seduced. Avery giggled girlishly as Tyrell kissed him on the lips and the neck, then Avery slowly lowered himself to his knees. “Alright, then, man, go ahead and jerk me off,” Tyrell said with a grunt. Avery pulled off Tyrell’s towel, revealing that big floppy cock. Tyrell took a deep breath, and his cock popped into Avery’s mouth. Avery smiled around it — it was clean and meaty and he could tell it was well-used too, like a muscle exhausted after a long day of work. Tyrell fucked so many women that he got hard quickly even though he’d cum a couple times today already. It had been hours, after all, which was plenty of time for him. He put his hands on his hips, watching his dick slide down Avery’s throat. “Yeah, swallow it, boi, swallow it deep…” It was rock-hard and throbbing soon enough, and the salty taste of precum hit Avery’s lips. Avery smiled up at him, his hands roaming over Tyrell’s muscular chest. When he was ready, Avery turned around, leaned over the bed and jutted his ass up. Tyrell tried to cover up his lack of confidence, but Avery could tell how nervous he was. Tyrell wondered how much like a woman’s ass this would feel. It’s good to do this once, Tyrell tried to tell himself. Lotta niggas ram once or twice. Avery gritted his teeth as a jolt of pain hit him. Tyrell had a big dick, so even with lube, there was a little agony as that first inch or two of cockmeat pushed into him. Avery struggled, and Tyrell grunted. “Damn, boy,” Tyrell said. He’d never really worked through this kind of anal resistance. He was ginger, reluctant at first. He’d only fucked four girls in the ass and three of them gave up as soon as he hit resistance. The fourth was a major slut who took it in the ass all the time, so there had been no resistance. Tyrell slowly worked his cock in, centimeter by centimeter. His hands instinctively touched Avery’s ass, then he pulled away because he didn’t want to touch a man. Then a surge of pleasure hit him, and Tyrell moaned despite his anxiety. He found his fingers on Avery’s pert ass — which, he thought, looked and felt very much like a girl’s — spreading the cheeks. “Damn, man…” Tyrell grunted. His cock slid the rest of the way in, and they both moaned together. “Oh god… Damn, nigga!” Tyrell didn’t know anal could be like this. Avery was tight and strong and experienced, and he could take every inch of dickmeat like few women could. He wasn’t loose either; he didn’t feel like a slut. He felt amazing, and Tyrell couldn’t believe it. This, he thought, was better than any of the female asses he’d ever been in, not that Tyrell was going to admit that. He pounded away, soon losing all of his inhibitions. He didn’t even mind his chest touching Avery’s back as he rammed his dick in harder and harder. Soon he had Avery pinned on the bed, squirming beneath Tyrell’s massive body. Tyrell slammed his dick in and out, having lost his gingerness as he now realized Avery could take any amount of ramming. “Shit yeah!” Tyrell gripped his cheeks and moaned out his orgasm, surprised to see that Avery shot his own load at the same time. The smell of cum filled the air, and Tyrell sprayed his giant wad within Avery’s ass. It just kept on flowing, overflowing, dripping down and coating Avery’s thighs in creamy goodness. He had a big dick too, which Avery loved, and that meant Avery could feel its protruding veins throbbing inside him. At last, it was over, and Tyrell pulled out. He grinned, wiping sweat off his chest. “Damn, boy… Hmm, you got ass fo’ real…” “Hmmm…” Avery wanted to say something flirtatious, but he was too overwhelmed by the most intense orgasm he’d felt in a long time. He curled up on the bed and motioned for Tyrell to lay next to him. Tyrell did so. He was tired now, having barely slept the night before. He didn’t even mind letting Avery paw all over him as they settled into bed together. When I tell people about this — if I ever do — I’ll definitely tell them I made Avery sleep on the couch. The last thing Tyrell did before falling asleep was tap Avery on the shoulder. Tyrell grinned. “Hey, you wanna mess around tomorrow?” Avery nodded, bleary-eyed. “Then get ready to buy me a car.”
“There you are, Wink, I see you comin’ my way! Why don’t you break me off a piece of that sugar?” That was it, that was him. Avery stepped out from behind the dumpster and stopped in front of Wink. He was a short black man, muscular but not large, firm and tight-bodied beneath an ill-fitting suit. It wasn’t colorful enough or nice enough to be a pimp suit — it was faded and frayed, loose threads and old stains abounding.
Andre “Wink” Winkle came down here to Canal Street every weekend. He always paid for a blowjob from one of the hookers. He always asked for anal, but he never had the money for it. He begged them to let him in the back-door for free, promising that he’d lick their pussy when he was done — Avery suspected he would have an excuse to leave if that ever happened: no straight man ate prostitutes’ pussies, he thought.
Avery thought Wink was willing to try a different route to that backdoor. “I’m comin’ fo’ you, girl!” Wink said to the prostitutes. He walked slowly, with a barely perceptible limp.
“Hey,” Avery said. He startled Wink, who glared at him. “You wanna make some money? I’ll pay you a hundred bucks to do to me whatever you were gonna do to her, and more. You can ram me six ways to Sunday.” Wink had been bopping his head to an unheard beat as he came down the alley. He kept bouncing on his feet, even as his eyes bugged out. Then finally he stopped and chuckled. “Yo,” he said, flat and simple. “What?” Avery repeated himself. He blushed a little. This was always the awkward part, and he was suddenly a lot less confident that Wink would say yes. “I’ll give you a hundred dollars. All you gotta do is ram me.” “Yo, I, uh, I don’t mess ’round on the downlow, sho’ don’t, sho’ don’t.” “This wouldn’t be on the downlow, this would be here in public.” “That ain’t a sellin’ point, man,” he said with a snarl. He pushed Avery out of the way. “Go’n, boi, get outta here b’fore I swipe ya head off. I ain’t no boytoy, no way, no way.” He had barely even stopped walking for a moment before continuing on, doing his little rap to that same beat he had been tapping as he came in. He shook his head and headed towards the girls. “C’mon, baby, you look tasty tonight! You wear that suit like a stud!” “You get all dressed up like that for me, sweetie? Ain’t you the handomest?!” Avery was disappointed. He was usually a good read on men. Wink had seemed like he’d do it for some money, but the way he phrased that and the way he moved on right away made it seem like he would not do it for any amount of money. “Yo, sweetheart, you lookin’ fine in that purple. Whatcha think ’bout-” Wink stopped talking and turned around. He jogged back to Avery and smiled, showing off deep dimples. “Yo, I forgot, I do it. Two hundred and some pee.” Then, he gasped, “I mean, in a cup, man. Pee in a cup. Not, you know… Pee in a cup. I need it tomorruh for a pee test. Need it bad, fo’ real, this nigga need it bad.” Avery was taken aback. “Oh. You forgot? You forgot you do swing downlow?” “I just… I remembered this little chore I got, yo, it’s real impo’tant and it ain’t not a bit of yo’ business ‘t all,” he said. He snorted. “But yeah, I gots a plan fo’ that money, hell yeah, hell yeah. And that’ll be the first time I evuh got clean pee for my PO.” He peered at Avery. “You smoke weed?” He screwed up his eyebrows, “No. Well, yes, but I haven’t smoked in months,” Avery said. He nodded. “Okay, good.” He produced a specimen cup — an actual one, from a lab — and handed it over. Avery went behind the dumpster to pee. “You carry this around with you?” “I was goin’ somewhere wit’ it, yo,” he said, snarling like he didn’t like Avery inquiring about it. He came up behind Avery by the dumpster. He swiped the cup from him as soon as Avery had replaced the lid. He didn’t seem to care that a few drops of pee got on the sleeve of his ratty old suit. “Get on yo’ knees. You ain’t a girl, so don’t even think I’mma seduce you or call you ‘sweetheart’ or kiss you. I don’t nevuh did stick no male man, no way. Nope, nope.” “No problem,” Avery said as he dropped to his knees. The nearby hos could still be heard. “Where’d Wink go? He was just here.” Wink chuckled dryly. He had a nice, raspy throat that made Avery hard. Avery undid the fly of his nattered suitpants. He pulled out a juicy, fat cock. Since Wink was short and not especially large, his cock looked even bigger, extending almost all the way to his knees and as plump in diameter as his forearm. “Just put the tip in yo’ mouth, boy,” Wink said. Then he clucked his tongue against his teeth. “Yo, I don’t like sayin’ that. I’mma call you girl. Okay, girl? Huh? Huh?” “Uh-huh,” Avery spoke around the cock throbbing in his throat. It was limp still, but it was gathering steam. He could feel it twitching and twinkling as Wink got used to the situation. “Alright, yo, girl, alright, put the tip in yo’ mouth.” He paused and pulled out a cigarette. He patted his pants pockets. “Damn, girl, you got a lighter?” Avery shook his head. He put the tip of Wink’s dick in his mouth and suckled loudly, moistly. He got a taste of clean cock — it was clear Wink had showered right beforehand. He must have wanted to be at his cleanest for the prostitute he planned on hiring. Wink snorted. A trashy-looking white redneck walked past the dumpster, heading towards the girls. He didn’t notice Wink throating down in the shadows. “Yo, hey, man,” Wink called out to him. “You got a light, man?” The redneck nodded. He fished a lighter out and gave it to Wink, who lit his cigarette and took a deep drag. The redneck realized then that Wink was getting dome from a man, and he backed away. “Uh, keep the lighter,” he said. He turned around and darted towards the prostitutes. Wink cackled. “Whiteboys don’t know nothin’ ’bout this kinda shit. They squeamish as all hell, yo.” He took another drag. “Free lighter, alright, alright, alright.” He sighed. “Alright, now get ya tongue out a bit, girl. Move it around some.” Avery did what he said. He kept sucking on the tip and licking the shaft at the same time, his tongue flickering out to tease every inch of his manhood. Wink leaned against the brick wall facing the dumpster. He closed his eyes and groaned. “Yo, lick right here, baby,” he said. He pointed to a spot, and when Avery licked that enthusiastically, Wink groaned again. He smiled. “Yeah, you pretty good. I’m gonna keep tellin’ you how to do it, girl. Hope that’s okay. I’m sure you got ‘xperience, but I like it done in just the right way. Lick here now, girl, get that tongue out… Yeah… Yeah…” He spoke in a low, slow-melting voice. “Hmmm, c’m’ere big boy…!” “Want a date, sugah?” “Is that you, Wink? I see you there. Whatchoo doin’ behind the dumpsters? Ain’t you gonna come see me?” Wink laughed and covered his face. He poked his head out from behind the dumpster. “Hey, sweetheart! I might take a break this week.” He snorted and smiled. “Wait! Nah! You come on ovuh here, Sharlene! I got somethin’ for ya! It’s gonna be real special!” His voice was smooth and kind, but then he glared down at Avery and spoke more brusquely. “Alright, you can deep-throat me now, girl.” Avery was excited to show his capabilities. He slammed his face all the way down on Wink’s dick, until his nose mashed into the fabric of his slacks. His wiry pubic hair scratched at Avery’s lips and his balls swayed past his chin. “Okay, nice, alright then, alright, alright,” Wink said, like he hadn’t expected Avery to make it feel so good. He smiled as Sharlene approached. She was a big black girl with a wide ass. She wore a bright green dress that showed off her assets. She smiled at Wink, then frowned when she saw that he was in a man’s mouth. “Hello,” she said. She glared at Avery and barked out, “What’s this? You stealin’ my customers? My daddy Slim Jay ain’t gonna be happy ’bout that.” Avery grinned, but he didn’t pull off Wink’s cock, which throbbed in his throat. Wink gasped like he was shocked that Wink could deep-throat him all the way to the root. “Don’t be salty, baby,” Wink said. He leaned over and kissed Sharlene on the cheek. “He payin’ me, I’m just savin’ some money. You still my one and only. Maybe I can pay you fo’ some anal action next week, you know.” “Uh-huh.” She put her hands on her hips. “You leavin’ me high and dry.” “I don’t want you dry, no way, no way. Lemme give you ten,” he said. He pulled out a ten-dollar bill. “I finger ya real good, baby, baby doll.” He smiled and held up two fingers like he was negotiating. “I put two fingers in ya pussy and one in the ass. You like that? Huh? Or you want two in the ass and one in ya pussy?” She took the ten-dollar bill. She frowned down at Avery. “You best hurry up, man. If my daddy come by and you still here, he gonna kick at least three asses. Ten dollahs ain’t enough to make him happy.” Wink kissed her on the lips. His tongue plunged into her mouth. His head was turned to the side to reach her face, while his crotch was forward for perfect access for Avery. As always, when Avery got into the swing of his latest piece of street trade, he felt a real sense of intimacy with his man. He always thought the best way to get to know a man was to get him off. All of his inner feelings and dreams were palpable when you had him at his most vulnerable, allowing a man to swing on his meat. And Wink was no exception. Avery swallowed his cock to the root as Wink kissed the prostitute and fingered her pussy and ass. She submited boredly, but Wink acted like she was just as passionate as she was. Wink wore this suit to impress her. Avery had been going back and forth whether he wore it for her or because he just thought he looked good or maybe he was going to go club-hopping later, maybe he just wanted to get his rocks off before hitting on pretty girls so he wouldn’t be too horny. Or maybe he just always wore a suit, or he was hoping to become a pimp one day. There were a million reasons he might be wearing the cheap, ill-fitting burgundy suit. But the more he swallowed, the more Avery knew the answer — Wink wanted to look his best for Sharlene, or whichever prostitute looked best to him when he got here. He felt like a trashy loser when he dressed in his ordinary t-shirt and jeans to get a blowjob from a whore, so he wore his only suit instead. He talked like he was seducing her, like she was his girlfriend, like he really loved her, because he wished he was the kind of man who felt that way about a girl. Now that Wink was knuckle-deep in the plump prostitute, his dick throbbed and jerked around within Avery’s throat. It spewed precum in copious quantities. “I love you, baby, I love you so much, yo, yo,” Wink murmured to her. He tried to drag Avery’s head off his cock, but Avery resisted. Wink grunted. “Am I the only nigga you want?” “Baby, you really are,” she said with a canned moan. She kissed him back on the neck. He chuckled. “Damn, I like this. Only cost me ten bucks, and I’s gettin’ paid by the sissy. I’s makin’ a profit tonight, damn-howdy!” The prostitute took a step back. She shook her head. “Nah. My daddy gonna be very mad ’bout that, Wink.” “What?” He had a big smile on his face like a mischievous little boy who had just gotten in trouble. “Only his girls is allowed to work this alley,” she said. “He go’n cut you. Or just demand all the money the sissy is paying you. Or both.” Wink chuckled. “Baby, don’t tell him, okay? You still gettin’ paid-“ “He’s my daddy, I gotta tell him! He get salty if I don’t.” “If you don’t tell him, he won’t know nothin’, baby, baby,” Wink said. He slipped a second finger into her pussy and groaned. She kissed him on the neck. Wink groaned. “Tell him the sissy ain’t pay. Tell him I let him jerk me off as a freebie.” “He won’t like that much either, nigga,” she said. Wink sighed. “Then tell him to fuck off, I don’t care. Quit talkin’ ’bout yo’ pimp.” He looked down at Avery, whose head bobbed up and down on his dick. “You can stop, whiteboy. I got a female now.” Sharlene started rubbing his chest through his shirt and talking about how much she wanted a taste of his cock. Wink just smiled and fingered her pussy. He brought his fingers up to his nose to sniff them. Precum flowed into Avery’s mouth now, as Wink’s cock hit the back of his throat again and again. Avery’s nose was buried in Wink’s pubic hair and the burgundy fabric of his suit. Wink kept half-heartedly trying to get Avery to stop — Wink had money now, so he could buy whatever he wanted from Sharlene. Avery wasn’t about to stop until he got his money’s worth. “Suck on ’em, baby, lemme see it,” Wink said. He tried to put his fingers in her mouth, but she kept her lips closed. “Another ten bucks, sweetheart,” she said softly. “You charge money to suck on my finger? It just got ya pussyjuice on it, baby? I love you-” His dick throbbed in Avery’s mouth. “I love you too, Wink, but I gotta pay my daddy,” she said. “Ten bucks and I’ll suck on any finger you put in front of my mouth.” He chuckled and handed over another ten dollar bill. He shook his head and bit his lip. He put his fingers back in her pussy, then removed his other finger, the one that had been in her ass. “Hmm,” she moaned like she had been waiting for that. She swallowed his callused finger, making him shudder and lean back again. Avery stopped throating his cock. Wink watched his finger slide in and out of her mouth like he was hypnotized, like he hadn’t even noticed his climax was finished. Avery pulled his pants down and bared his ass. Without a word from Wink, Avery backed up. He squeezed Wink’s cock into his asshole. Wink just kept sticking his fingers in the prostitute’s holes; he switched his fingers around like it was a game, smilingly sickly as she sucked her pussy and ass juices off his finger. Finally he looked down to see his cock slide into Avery’s ass. He wrinkled his nose a bit, then went back to kissing the prostitute. His whole body trembled beneath the suit. “Yo, baby, I love ass,” he said. “Love it!” He said it to her even though the only person whose ass he was in was Avery. His hands roamed over her tits and tweaked her nipples through her green dress. “Can I suck on ya titties, baby, baby doll? I love you so much. I’mma be wit’ you forevuh.” “Uh-huh,” she crooned. “Twenty bucks.” “Twenty bucks to suck on ya titties?!” She smiled. “If you gimme another twenty bucks, I’ll have made fifty bucks off ya. That’s enough I can give my daddy, he ain’t gotta be mad,” she said. “Alrighty, then, alrighty, but only cuz I love ya and I don’t want him beatin’ on ya, baby. That ain’t a good value, twenty bucks fo’ some titties, nah,” he said with a laugh. But he paid the twenty dollars anyway, and he dove for her chest. He lowered her dress to bare the tits and began licking. He groaned. His cock spasmed in Avery’s ass.
Avery savored the exquisite feeling of Wink’s meat throbbing inside him. He moaned. He had to grip the side of the dumpster for support. It took all of his coordination to keep moving his ass back and forth on Wink’s cock, because Wink didn’t move his hips at all; Avery was responsible for the entirety of the action. Wink ignored Avery completely, kissing and pawing over the prostitute instead.
Wink had never told anyone, but Avery was not the first man he stuck up behind. When Wink was in prison for two years, he had a thin, delicate black man as a cellmate. Initially, Wink had beaten him up and taken his fruit cup in the mess hall. He arrived at prison wanting to show off and make a name for himself, and he was glad to have a small, weak cellmate he could pound on. But over the next nineteen months, Wink went him hating his lilting cellmate to feeling sorry for him to being grateful for his attention to enjoying his presence to even giving an enthusiastic reacharound after a few gulps of toilet wine (when there was a sheet up over the cell bars so no one knew Wink had touched another man’s cock). When Wink was released, he had sworn to himself he was going to make changes in his life, and one of those changes was that he was going to keep visiting his former cellmate. He liked to feel wanted. He had sworn on his good name that he’d keep coming back. But once he was free, and he saw girls all over the place, and he got some good-natured ribbing about what he might have done with other males in prison, Wink wasn’t comfortable with it. In his cell, he could put up a sheet for privacy. If he went to prison as a visitor, he couldn’t hide anything. So in the end, he had never once visited the man he spent all those passionate nights with. He regretted it often, but Wink never looked him up again. He counted down the days to the man’s scheduled release date, and then he counted up the days since he had been released. When he rammed Avery there in the alley, that was what he thought about, even as he fingered Sharlene. He kissed her while imagining he was kissing a man who didn’t need to be paid to care for him. “Kiss me, baby,” he moaned. He grabbed her body and held her close. He kissed her tight on the lips, his tongue exploring her mouth. He was short and she was a little taller than him, but she was much thicker, so he looked even smaller in comparison, like she could have swallowed him up whole if she wanted. His cock spasmed as he groaned into her mouth. His muscles tensed beneath the suit, which was now plastered to his chest with sweat. His balls drew up in his sac, and for the first time since this had begun, he gripped Avery’s bare asscheeks. He loudly orgasmed, gasping and heaving in the shadowy alley. Wink held Avery in place and swayed his hips from side to side, humping every inch of his insides. Cum sprayed over his prostate, triggering Avery’s own orgasm at last. He sprayed his wad onto the garbagey alley ground, while Wink’s load coated his body. Wink kept on ramming, sucking on the prostitute’s tongue and tweaking her nipples with both hands. His cock rammed in and out of Avery’s cum-dripping ass. The more he rammed, the more of a mess he made — Wink had developed this game with his cellmate, making his load frothy, spilling out, bubbling forth in a big drippy wad that made him gag and laugh. “Damn, boy, you take it — I mean, damn, girl, you got real nasty there, that was nice,” Wink said. He whistled. He pointed to the messy ass. “You see that, Sharlene? Lookit that. That is some nasty anal. That is right. That’s how you do it That’s how you do it!.” “I do that, sugah,” Sharlene said like she was offended at the insinuation that she didn’t know how. “You know my price. You know I don’t give no discounts on anal, not no how.” He smiled. He kissed Sharlene on the lips. “Yo’ daddy lettin’ you go out sometime, baby? I take you out to dinner-“ “No, sugah, that ain’t allowed,” she said. She pulled her dress back up over her tits. He shrugged like he was expecting that answer, which he was: he asked her that every time she sucked him off. She said no every time he hired her, which was most weeks — basically unless she was with a different john when he arrived. He didn’t like waiting for her because it gave him plenty of time to wonder what kind of guy she was with, and then she’d inevitably taste like another man when he did get to kiss her. He knew that she was with a lot of men regardless; it was just easier to forget that when he didn’t have to wait for her to be finished with them. “Hey, girl,” he said to Avery as he smacked Avery’s asscheeks. “Will you suck my nut out ya asshole? I want that. That’s hot, man. I love that. Ain’t no kinda girls ever do that. I never seen a female do that, and it turns me on so much-” He paused, then lied as he realized he had sort of admitted he did this with a man before “I mean, some girls do it, some do. That’s how I know how hot it is. But a lot of ’em won’t do it, nuh-uh.” The only person he had ever seen suck cum out of his own ass was his cellmate, but Wink wasn’t about to admit that. “Okay, yeah,” Avery said. Wink smiled. He let go of the prostitute and slowly withdrew his limp dick. He gagged at the sight of juices dripping from it. He laughed so loud it echoed against the walls of the dumpster. “Ugh, this is so nasty, girl, I love it. I’m gonna love you too if you do this. I swear to God, I will marry you any day if you promise to suck on ass-to-mouth. So fuckin’ nasty. Nasty. Nasty. Nasty. I love it.” He stroked his cock with one hand. It was so sensitive he yelped and his body undulated beneath the suit. He loosened the tie with his other hand. He rammed two fingers into Avery’s ass. He gagged again, laughing nervously at his own reaction. He clawed inside Avery’s body, causing a torrent of pain and exquisite post-orgasmic pleasure. He pulled his fingers out and watched with wide-eyed amazement as Avery sucked them clean. His fingers and hand were soaked in cum and assjuice. Avery loved it. If he had thought Wink would ever agree to finger his asshole, he would have asked — he would have paid more if he knew it was an option, so he was glad Wink had initiated it for free instead. Wink’s fingers were callused and scarred, and they tasted like stale sweat beneath the assjuice and cum. “That was so disgusting, girl, I love it,” he said to Avery. “I swear to God, I will marry you, baby.” He paused. “I ain’t serious, I know you ain’t no girl. I won’t marry you. No how, no way.” “I know,” Avery said. He pulled his own pants up. He felt grimy and dirty, but he loved that feeling. He watched Wink tuck away his own cock and zip his slacks back up. Daddy’s here, where’s my money, babies?! A big black man in a fine blue suit — this one was perfectly tailored, vibrantly colored and clean as a whistle — Slim Jay — walked into the alley. He bellowed, and the prostitutes at the other end of the alley all spoke at once. There was a chorus of feminine voices. The pimp didn’t notice Sharlene there, so she stepped out from behind him. She smiled and giggled to get his attention. “Oh, hello, baby, whatchoo doin’ back there?” He saw Wink. “G’evenin’, sir. You got ya usual?” Wink laughed. “Not the usual, exactly. But I got what I need, nigga, no pro’lem.” He walked away, dapping his head as he walked, dancing to an unheard beat just like he was when he entered the alley. Avery hid there in the shadows for a moment, while the prostitute handed her money over and explained what had happened. When her pimp glowered a little like the money she had earned was not enough, Avery wondered if he was going to get in trouble after all. So he fled into the night. He was thin and quick, and the pimp didn’t know he was there, so he just darted right past him and ran out of the alley.
