Avery loves alpha males, which is one reason he likes the Cornerside Gym — that’s where all the toughest, biggest and strongest alphas like to work out. But Avery didn’t realize what he was in for when one studly specimen of white trash approaches him, in desperate need of some release.
That means Avery is in for some intense man-on-man action in this grimy gym’s filthy sauna! Can Avery handle his newfound alpha’s superior manhood?
Or read the whole thing here!
Avery Flowers joined the Cornerside Gym of Myrtle Beach to work out. He was finding it more difficult to maintain his lean, athletic body as he got older. He just wanted to work out somewhere there were few women, and the Cornerside Gym had a reputation as being a place for boxers, MMA and crossfit guys and serious bodybuilders. Most of the personal trainers and coaches working out of there have a history of steroid trafficking arrests. It was that kind of gym.
That was not a problem for Avery, who was a great admirer of the male form. The Cornerside Gym was crawling with men whose physiques made Avery’s mouth water. On his first day working out there, he was especially interested in this one broad-and-bulky type, a literal red neck and a figurative redneck who wore sweatpants, backwards hat and a sleeveless tee marked with the logos of several college football teams. He was blond and scruffy, with a thick, bushy beard and unkempt hair, wild eyes with drunken bloodshot veins around his irises. He had a certain white trash look that made Avery’s blood boil.
But the football boy got into his own routine at the pull-up bar on the other side of the gym from Avery on the treadmill. He wasn’t visible in the mirror either. Avery entertained himself on his phone for about thirty seconds. It’s funny how phones can be endlessly distracting when you want to pay attention to something else, but when you’re on the treadmill and need a distraction, the phone is dull and uninteresting.
Avery looked around the gym again. There were a couple old guys, this one hideous steroid freak Avery tried to avoid looking at because he was kind of nauseating, a trio of twinkish Asians who combined could almost outweigh an American sushi roll, a few other sad sacks and underweight banker-types, but not many men at the moment who caught Avery’s eye. A few more men were trickling in though, as the early morning headed towards noon.
Then he saw that that one blond trashy stud with the muscles of a Navy SEAL, muscles that were barely concealed by the string-like sleeveless muscle shirt he wore. He came back around the corner from the pull-up bars because he got a phone call, to which he spoke in hushed whispers. He paced angrily up by the door, where the treadmills were, and Avery pretended to involve himself in his phone so it wasn’t obvious how interested he was in the bulky man’s physique.
And he was trying to surreptitiously overhear the angry phone call the man made. With a woman who was screaming. Asking for something? Accusing him of something? He muttered something vituperative but quiet. Avery scrutinized his phone intently so it wouldn’t look like he was listening.
The trashy musclegod was constantly taking his backwards baseball cap off, touching his head as though rubbing his fingers through his hair — he didn’t have enough hair to actually do so, but he touched his scalp like he wanted to — and then put the backwards baseball cap back on.
Hitch! The woman on the phone was calling him Hitch. Or maybe bitch, but Avery was pretty sure it was Hitch.
Hitch made eye contact with Avery, who couldn’t tear himself away or conceal his massive boner. He was sure anyone who looked in his direction would see it. He blushed before anything else even happened, and felt for a moment of intense eye contact, it felt like Hitch’s powerful body was dripping sweat into Avery’s mouth. Avery could taste the salty acrid flavor of his flesh. Hitch rolled his eyes in Avery’s direction.
He probably even tasted like trailer park trash. Avery bet he tasted real bad. Men like Hitch were precisely the reason women hated this gym. They didn’t go here because it was the kind of low-class spot that had puddles of dripped sweat on the benches. Men don’t care about that stuff. Women can’t abide. Avery loved it.
When Avery looked away to avoid gawking at Hitch, he spied a gaggle of men coming out of the locker room together shirtless or in sleeveless shirts or those little half-shirts that football players wore, lifting weights, touching each other’s muscles, shooting funny-sexy videos for their YouTube channels. Avery’s face bloomed ruddy and dappled in nervous sweat.
That was when he saw Hitch coming over here. He had that awkward thick way of walking that heavy, strong-bodied men had, like his feet didn’t know how to carry a man of this size. Hitch wore one of those “stringers”, the tank tops with no sleeve or shoulder, just a thin strip of material that ran between the shoulderblades and over the spine, soaking up all that delicious backsweat. His muscles stretched and flexed with each step he took.
Hitch walked over to Avery, whispering in his ear with such sexiness that Avery nearly exploded with desire. “I seen the way you lookin’ at me,” he said with a thick Lowcountry-hick accent.
Avery stammered over his words. “Uh… Well, I…” He looked at his feet but found himself staring at Hitch’s huge shoes. You know what they say about guys with big feet… He got the feeling Hitch was implying he wanted Avery to jerk him off. That was what Avery wanted to do, and Hitch seemed like the type. But he could have meant he knew Avery was eavesdropping on his phone call. So Avery didn’t say anything in return. “Hmm… Uh, well…”
“Don’t say nothin’,” Hitch said with a sneer. “You one snivelin’ li’l pansy, ain’cha? I got sumpin you can do wit’ that dumb mouth of ya’s, if’n you want. Or if’n you don’t want, I don’t give a shit. Come on.”
Avery looked around to see if anyone else was listening, but the other men were all grunting as they worked out alone or in small groups. No one paid attention to him and Hitch, who turned to walk away without checking if Avery followed.
Avery did follow though. Of course he did. He would love to get bullied some more by this foul-armpitted muscle-man in a stringer. Avery wanted to suck that fabric clean. A stringer has such little fabric to begin with that as soon as the wearer starts sweating, it becomes sweat-soaked. That was the main reason to wear one, really. If an alpha male athlete knows whatever shirt he wears will soon be a sweat-soaked rag, he might as well wear one with as little fabric as possible. It’s for when you want to be shirtless but decorum or state law or whatever prohibits. Hitch, wearing that stringer his muscles bulged out of, loomed tall and strong ahead of Avery, who was a little scared — what if this was a prelude to a beating? That seemed eminently possible.
“C’mon, brah, lift that shit! Do it! Do it!” One man was trying to get another one pumped up as he did a bench-press. He slapped the younger man’s pectoral muscles, which were bare, gleaming, growing larger seemingly as Avery walked by watching and licking his lips.
He followed Hitch into the locker room, into a deserted corner in the back of the showering area, behind a curtain. Avery knew this was potentially dangerous, that Hitch was an obviously disreputable lout — he literally had Bad Boy tattooed on his neck — and slice of white trash and that he could be walking into an ambush. But Hitch was had better muscles than any man Avery had ever seen, and he was so horny he wasn’t sure he could resist even if he wanted to.
“G’on, then, do it, sissy.”
So when Hitch pulled his cock out and pushed Avery down to the ground, refusing to let him do any of “that sissy shit” like play with his thick pecs and biceps, Avery was so turned on he swallowed Hitch’s cock right down. He had a long, thick shaft that was dripping with rancid sweat, which Avery savored and suckled. It smelled like he hadn’t showered in a couple days, and Avery wondered, not for the first time, if Hitch was homeless.
Without thinking about it, his fingers crept back up, underneath Hitch’s stringer. He barely caught a feel of his hard pecs and nipples before Hitch swatted his hand back.
“If’n you keep tryna-a feel me up, sissy, I will beat you senseless, maaaahn, foolish mug,” he murmured. He sneered down at Avery, whose head worked up and down Hitch’s rapidly firming up cock. “Goddamn, shit, lick that cock, boy, goddamn…” Hitch murmured. He slapped Avery’s cheek, not real hard but hard enough to make a loud ringing sound. Avery put one of his hands on Hitch’s ballsac, gently stroking his scrotum, while his other hand jacked himself off. Hitch grunted and again slapped Avery on the cheek, a little harder this time. “Back in prison, we had one sneak to the fence j’st ‘bout e’ry Sunday, on account of they know the guards don’t have ‘nough folks workin’ on Sundays to monitor the fence. They gives us couple bucks to jerk us off through the fence.” Hitch grumbled and grunted. “That you?”
Avery tried to answer — he had never done that but absolutely would if he found out where exactly — but Hitch didn’t let up on his throat, so he just mumbled the best he could with a full mouth. He flickered his tongue up and down Hitch’s shaft, making sure he got every drop of sweat off there.
He could taste that prison-life in Hitch’s body. Avery had thought at first he might have been talking shit, but Avery had jerked off enough guys to taste the different kinds of men. Hitch had a musky metallic quality, like sucking on a copper penny that had been marinated in ball-sweat for hours, and Avery had learned long ago to associate that with ex-cons. It was like those steel corridors and handcuffs and rough-hewn, poorly-washed clothing had seeped into their skin — more prosaically, Avery thought they tasted similar because they ate the same, mostly canned food and wore the same brands of clothes washed with the same brands of detergent. He preferred to imagine it as the taste of prison life though.
The sour, salty flavor of precum coated his tongue, and Avery moaned as he shot a load in his own pants. Hitch didn’t even seem to notice that Avery had jacked off. Hitch might have made Avery stop if he had seen it.
Avery quickened his rhythm on Hitch’s cock, struggling to choke the whole thing down. He nuzzled it deeply until his nose was buried in Hitch’s pubic hair, and by now, Avery was reaching up to massage Hitch’s pecs and around to play with his plump asscheeks — Hitch had allowed him to do it now that his dick was hard, and all he could think about was getting deeper in Avery’s ass. Hitch had never taken his workout shorts off, they were just down around his ankles, so he couldn’t really move forward without tripping (or without picking his shorts up). That meant he couldn’t effectively throat Avery down, he had to keep leaning forward, almost losing his balance, trying to grip Avery’s head without losing his balance.
“You disgusting,” Hitch said with a loud hoot. He slammed his fist into the wall and let out a moan. “Disgustin’, yeah, but you got a fine mouth, boy, goddamn!”
Avery choked as Hitch began plowing his face even harder. He had finally gotten a good grip on his skull, and Avery submitted to the aggressive throating. He could deep-throat like few others. Hitch pushed Avery’s head against the wall of the locker room and began slamming into him. With every flex of his hips, the lockers rattled behind Avery.
The locker room door swung open, and Avery heard footsteps and Southern-tinged laughter.
“Hitch, you in here?” asked one of the men. “Or’d you beat that sissy down?”
A couple deep voices filled the locker room with their laughter.
“Over here,” Hitch said. “Got the sissy swinging on my dick.”
The other men turned the corner and saw them. They burst into laughter. Avery was embarrassed, but it seemed Hitch was even more so. They had known he was going to do this, but they hadn’t really believed it. It was especially funny because Hitch had a shocked look on his face, like he never thought dome from a man would feel good. He muttered and looked away, his face and chest flush as he slammed Avery against the wall. He was plowing Avery’s throat even harder now, no doubt showing off to his friends, Avery thought, not that he minded.
And though Avery tried to stand up, Hitch had him pinned against the wall. Hitch’s muscular frame jiggled up and with his thrusts, as Hitch and his gym-rat buddies laughed together. Hitch rammed his hips again and again, forcing every inch of his cock down Avery’s choking throat. Avery dug his nails into Hitch’s backside, but Hitch was relentless. The sweat dappled and twinkled as it evaporated off Hitch’s prison-tatted muscles.
“Watch,” Hitch said with a cruel sneer. He glared down at Avery, then looked up at his buddies and laughed. “I gonna make this sissy spit my spunk out his nose. You hear that, sissy? We gonna play a game. It’s called Choke-the-Sissy.”
His balls slammed against Avery’s chin. Hitch used one hand to pinch Avery’s nostrils shut, and the other to massage his neck. The other guys got closer, then backed away because they didn’t want to get splashed with cum.
Hitch closed his eyes. He looked almost pained, like he had to struggle to bust a nut. He murmured a little, and he flexed his biceps and his traps. Avery was pinned straight-up against the wall at this point, Hitch’s balls resting on his chin as Avery’s lungs cried out for oxygen. Hitch moved his waist in little circles, like he was making love to every inch of Avery’s gullet, which spasmed and choked.
Maybe it was that spasm that finally triggered Hitch’s orgasm. He grunted and slapped Avery — hard this time — really hard — just as he reached his climax, and pleasure visibly rippled through Hitch’s chest muscles. Jizz spurted into Avery’s belly, Hitch’s cock extending down so deep it was past Avery’s tongue and he didn’t taste it.
He let go of Avery’s nose just as he shot his load right down his throat. Avery let loose a torrent of choked coughing, but Hitch kept his dick in place, so the cum spurted out Avery’s nostrils. It sprayed in a giant wad into Hitch’s wiry crotch hair.
“Ah, shit, he’s doing it!”
“It’s happening!”
“Oh god…”
“Eww, nasty!”
They all laughed and clutched each other as though they might get splashed, which was a real possibility. A huge cumwad sprayed from Avery’s nostrils and soaked Hitch’s meaty frame. More kept coming. At this point Avery’s sore throat couldn’t clench even if he wanted to, and Hitch was back to ramming his dick back and forth, moaning again and again as his orgasm ran through him.
He shot a huge load, or maybe Avery just choked up a huge amount of creamy spit, or both. In any case, he made a huge cummy mess on the floor and on Avery’s chest. Hitch’s cock was covered in his own cum and more of Avery’s spit, which Avery sucked up loudly as he tried to regain his breath. The watching men alternately laughed and groaned.
“Alright,” Hitch said. His dick dangled in front of his crotch, and when he swayed, it slapped into the soupy mess on Avery’s face. “Let’s clean up and go find some bitches..” He was ruddy and covered in sweat.
And that was it. Hitch and his friends went off, to find bitches, presumably.
Avery thought it was a one-time thing, that surely a stud like Hitch wouldn’t be interested in plowing a sissy on a regular basis. He must have had bitches to fuck, right?
But the next week he saw Hitch again, and knew right away from the look in his eyes that Hitch wanted another go. The muscle-bound hick was doing bench presses in another stringer, a tattered old one with a Confederate flag on it. Avery saw him when he walked by and glanced in his direction. He tried to remain aloof but saw Hitch watching him out of the corner of his eye.
Hitch approached him later, looked around to make sure no one was watching, then whispered, “Hey, I got a better place we could go this time. We ain’t gotta rush like before.”
“Hey, I didn’t, uh… I mean, yeah, fine,” Avery said, shocked that once again Hitch had approached him instead of the other way around. He forgot any of the things he wanted to say. All he could think about was being used and abused again.
Obviously, he agreed to follow Hitch.
This time, Hitch brought him back to a room where unused equipment sat. It looked and smelled like a gym, just with more dust and less sweat in the air. Plastic exercise mats and disused weights were scattered about, among machines that seemed possibly broken or simply out-of-date. A couple treadmills were back there too, each one with a post-it note listing what was wrong with it.
Hitch unceremoniously dropped his workout shorts and jockstrap, letting his dick flop out. He kept the stringer on. It was so wet with sweat it was plastered to his skin. Of course a stringer is just a narrow strap of fabric running down the center of the back and chest, so almost his entire torso was revealed. Avery stroked his cock, using Hitch’s own sweat as grease. His heart began pounding again as he wondered how private this room was — it wasn’t locked, and it wasn’t even marked as off-limits.. He kissed Hitch’s chest and licked his nipple, letting his tongue run up and down Hitch’s powerful torso. Acrid sweat smeared over Avery’s face.
Hitch again batted his face away, just like last time. “Nah,” he said. “We ain’t makin’ love. You wanna get it up the ass, get started and jerk it. Quit playing games.”
That momentary taste of Hitch’s nipple gave Avery a shot of adrenaline, and his own dick popped into full erection. “You need to quit playing games,” Avery said without thinking about it. He slathered his tongue on Hitch’s pecs, which rippled and twitched when Hitch grunted. Avery didn’t want to risk losing this chance to jerk off this alpha once more, but he didn’t like being lectured. “If you want dome, I want a taste of your chest. I wanna see what those nipples taste like, and I wanna lick the sweat off your body.” With an overexcited cluck of his tongue, Avery rammed his own hardon onto Hitch’s thigh, which he humped until Hitch shoved him to his feet. He left a sheen of precum on Hitch’s sweat-greasy thigh.
“Alright you bitch-ass punk, I don’t gotta be nice,” he said. He shoved Avery to his knees. “This ain’t ’bout you, and I ain’t wastin’ my time so’s you can lick my chest.” He smacked Avery in the cheek. “You a sissy, you got me hard, now you is finishin’ me off.”
Avery wanted to stand his ground and demand some respect, but he didn’t want to risk missing that opportunity. He glared up at Hitch, whose handsome face glared right back. Hitch grabbed ahold of Avery’s ears, just like before, and held his head in place for maximum fucktoy-use. He had big, sweaty balls that slapped against Avery’s chin as he began working his dick into Avery’s throat.
Just like before, Avery choked — but earlier this time — and Hitch didn’t stop. Avery didn’t want him to stop, but still, when he tapped Hitch on the meat of his asscheeks, Hitch just rammed harder at his tender throat. The familiar flavor of manflesh assaulted Avery’s senses, and he moaned around the cock in his throat. He suckled all the fluids and precum off it, letting all of Hitch’s macho juices flow into him.
“Hey, let’s turn it round,” Hitch said with a laugh. “We can do this right. There’s only one good way to cornhole a punk in the throat. Learnt this in prison, watch this.” Hitch dragged Avery by the head to a slanted bench — that must have been why he chose this room, cuz this bench was in here. Avery laid on it backwards, so his throat was arched upward as he leaned his head back to let Hitch ram his mouth.
Avery opened his mouth again, and Hitch rammed it in. This time his cock easily pushed all the way in, so Avery’s nose was buried in the thick, coppery bush around his balls. The scent of sweat was overwhelming, and Avery shot his load onto his own chest and belly with just a few tugs of his dick.
“I ain’t say you could jack off,” Hitch said. He growled and open-hand slapped Avery on his belly, right in the puddle of jizz — it was just a slap, but it was hard, and Avery cringed in pain. “Now we gonna do something really nasty,” Hitch said. “Actually you gonna do something real nasty. You ready for that?”
Avery nodded the best he could with Hitch’s cock shoved down his throat. The precum leaked out of his lips and stuck to his chin, and some of it came out his nose too, just like last time. The movement prompted Avery to gag violently, which made Hitch sneer, watching gobs of spit spill out of Avery’s mouth.
The smell of saliva was thick and cloggy in the air. Hitch let his dick plop out, and he snickered as Avery’s face turned red and he heaved for breath. Tendrils of saliva connected Avery’s heaving mouth and nose to Hitch’s dick.
Hitch turn around and bent over. “I know you know how to do this, bitch,” he said. “Not even the filthiest female sluts like eating ass though. So you is my only chance to do it real nasty. Get ya sissy tongue all the way up there, bitch.”
Avery wasn’t really a rimjob-lover, so he would have said no if asked, but it was somehow more arousing that he didn’t have a choice in the matter, and in any case, he wanted nothing more than to taste the musty sweat dripping down oHitch’s body. Avery dove in enthusiastically, separating Hitch’s toned, jiggling asscheeks with his fingers. He had a slick buttcrack, covered in sweat from his workout. Avery jerked every drop of it up.
Still gathering his breath from that throating a few seconds, Avery went to work on the asshole, slipping his tongue directly inside. The musky, filthy taste overwhelmed him, and Avery reached his hands around Hitch’s body to jack him off. Hitch’s huge cock throbbed in Avery’s fingers, spewing copious precum that lubed up Avery’s hands.
Hitch flexed his hips, moving his body up and down, rubbing his asshole on Avery’s face and tongue like a dog with an infected ass. His big muscles shifted with every move, and he let out an uncontrollable moan. For the first time, he seemed to be losing control, his passion and lust overtaking him.
“Man, you is nasty,” Hitch muttered. He drew his stringer up high so it wouldn’t get in Avery’s way, as Avery slathered his ass in spit. His asshole loosened as Avery jabbed his tongue farther and farther in, wiggling it around, poking at his spongy prostate. The funk was intense and marvelous, and Hitch let out a howl of intense pleasure. His muscles rippled under that stringer from his shoulders to his thighs, which Avery gripped as he lapped at Hitch’s asscrack. His tongue ran from the taint to the small of his back, but Avery paid special attention to Hitch’s tight hole. His tongue explored the rim and entered the hole, which made Hitch grunt and howl again and again.
When he could resist no longer, without a single word of warning, Hitch turned around and rammed his cock back down Avery’s throat. His shaft spasmed and spat a thick load of cum. It sank into Avery’s gullet, filling him up with hot, sticky fluid.
More and more came out, and since Hitch still wore that now-disgusting stringer — its paltry fabric soaked in several body fluids — it was draped over Avery’s face, as he no longer held it up. All Hitch cared about now was his orgam, which overwhelmed him and made him cry out loud. He aggressively held Avery’s head in place, though Avery didn’t try to move it away.
Avery swallowed every drop of his jizz, savoring the flavor as Hitch stood up and sneered at him. His heart pounding, Avery cowered beneath him. It tasted salty and warm and a little grimy, which was exactly the flavor Avery liked best.
“You’re nasty,” Hitch said, sweat pouring down his forehead. He took off his stringer and pulled up his workout shorts. He tossed the nasty-wet stringer at Avery. “Luckily, that’s the only quality I like in you.”
“Me too,…” Avery said. He caught the stringer tank top, which he wadded up into a ball and inhaled from deeply. “You smell nasty too…” A long, low moan came outta Avery, as the scent sent him reeling. Then he passed Hitch his business card. Avery sucked up more of the sweat and jizz clinging to the stringer. “Call me. Anytime.”
