featuring Jews – Mansploitation

The Fullback

Malachi is a football fullback… and a Jew on Christmas! So when Avery runs into him at a Chinese restaurant, he’s eager to swing on Malachi’s massive alpha male meat. Can Malachi perform on Hanukkah?

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Avery enjoyed traveling during the holidays. He found it exciting, and he always met strange people and got into strange situations. He had gone to a Christmas Eve party for his extended family out in Florida and was heading back home to Sacramento. He decided to drive so that he could spend some time without his sister and her daughters — Avery lived with his sister’s family, whom he loved very much but occasionally needed a break from. They took a plane back to California. Avery rented a car and had one glorious week without the Frozen soundtrack dominating his life.
Let it go! Let it go! Let it goooooooo!
Avery was ready to let Frozen go. He was utterly sick of it. He drove west from Florida through Texas just so he wouldn’t have to see a lick of snow because he thought it would remind him of that movie, which he had positively adored when he first saw it. He dressed up as Elsa for Halloween. His nieces thought it was hilarious.
But his nieces performed the music from that movie (or really just that one song) so many times he would have gladly strangled every single character if he could. He would have supported a Constitutional amendment banning the song. He had even considered stealing his nieces’s copy of the movie (but they’d just buy it again). He was completely and utterly sick of it.
He awoke on Christmas Day in a cheap motel. Avery had hoped he might get a little excitement on this trip, and this motel seemed like a perfect opportunity. These sorts of cheesy motels in nowheresville — Hampton, Mississippi, in this case — were often crawling with muscular men who would gladly let someone like Avery service them.
But it seemed all the good ones were at home with mom, no doubt overeating cheesy gratins and dry turkey. Avery was disappointed. There was a tubby black guy in the room next door and an elderly white man down the hall. The motel clerk was fat and slovenly. Two tired-looking women shared another room. There was a nerdy fellow who looked almost cute, but he disappeared anyway, and Avery didn’t see him again.
So he just went out to dinner by himself. The only restaurant open on Christmas Day was the Chinese dive across the street from the motel. Avery intended to get some takeout fried rice and eat it while watching something arousing on TV — he wasn’t sure if there would be anything arousing on TV right now, but he wasn’t about to watch some Christmas special.
However, when he went into the restaurant, there was another patron there who sent all of Avery’s plans out the window.
The young man was tall, broad-shouldered, dark-haired, white but very swarthy. He had a curly mess of black hair, tangled and akimbo atop his head. He snorted as he shoveled rice into his mouth. He wore one of those little half-shirts that football players wore at practice, along with loose-fitting track pants. He didn’t seem to notice Avery. Nothing made him look up from that bowl of rice, except the pretty Chinese waitress who brought him a refill of ice-cold Coke.
Avery got his fried rice and sat down across from the young man, who furrowed his brow at him. “Sorry,” Avery said. “Is it okay if I sit here? No one else is really out today, but I hate eating alone.”
He shrugged. He looked uncomfortable, but he nodded, so Avery sat down. Avery introduced himself, and the man said he was Malachi.
“You a Jew?” Malachi asked.
Avery shook his head. “Nope. My family’s just doing a… well, it’s kinda complicated. My sister did a Christmas dinner at our parent’s house on Christmas Eve, and we’re doing… Nevermind, it’s not that interesting. I’m just celebrating Christmas like three different times this year, none of them on Christmas Day.”
“Oh.”
“You’re Jewish?”
He nodded. He spoke with a mouth full of rice. “You know what Samoans is?”
“Samoans? The people? They’re… people. From Samoa.”
“Are they Christian?”
“Uh… Yeah, I think so. Maybe. Mainly. I guess some are probably not,” Avery said.
Malachi nodded. He shrugged. “Don’t matter. There’s this Samoan guy… He gets all the chicks. He’s on my football team. I thought he wouldn’t celebrate Christmas. I thought he could get some Jewish chicks and give me one. Girls love him so much, they think his accent is sexy. Then he said he did celebrate Christmas, so he couldn’t be with me. He doesn’t even have a family out here, they’re back in Samoa. Fuckin’ asshole. He just didn’t want to hang out with me. He’s probably got Jewish chicks all over him. Girls fucking love him because of that accent and cuz he’s exotic.” He said that last word with a sneer. “He’s not even, really, I mean, Samoa’s way out there but he’s totally a normal dude. He’s into the fucking Kardashians and shit. When this cheerleader asked him how to cook some traditional Samoan thing, he had to look it up on Wikipedia.” He paused. “He’s got great hair, they like his hair. I’ll give him that one, he does have great hair.”
“Oh, you poor baby.” Avery smiled. “So you’re all alone? You’re the only nonchristian on your team?”
He nodded. “Coach says we have to do everything together, so now that they’re all gone for Christmas, I’ve got jack shit to do.”
“What are you doing for Hanukkah?”
He shrugged. “Nothing really. I’ve got a menorah set up back at my place. My mom’s sending me presents, but I’m not going back home for Hanukkah. Too expensive. I’m from California.”
“Really? Where?”
“Sacramento.”
“That’s where I’m from too,” Avery said.
“Oh. Cool.” Malachi bit his lip. Avery could see the thoughts running through his mind. He wanted to ask for a ride home, but he didn’t want to sound desperate, and he didn’t want to admit he couldn’t afford to pay for gas. Today was the first day of Hanukkah, so they’d get to Sacramento before it was over. Until it was an option, Malachi hadn’t realized how much he missed his family and wanted to see them for the holiday. “That’s cool.”
Avery cleared his throat. Malachi had finished his food, and he eyed Avery’s fried rice hungrily. Avery hadn’t finished it. He offered it to Malachi, whose massive fullback body bristled. He shoveled the last of it into his mouth in about three bites.
“So, uh… Malachi, I could drive you home. I wouldn’t ask you to pay anything in money,” Avery said. “But maybe… we’ll be sharing a motel room, so maybe you could let me have a taste of your cock?”
He furrowed his brow. “What?”
“Nevermind. You’re not into it-“
“Wait, what?” His muscles all shook and flexed, rippling up and down his body. “Wait, what? What? What?”
Avery chuckled. He hadn’t meant to make Malachi so nervous. Malachi blushed and stammered. He looked to the Chinese family behind the counter as though they would jump in. They didn’t seem to pay any attention though.
“I just… I think you’re really handsome, and I bet you have a big dick. It’s no big deal. Whatever. Here, let me just give you enough money for a bus ticket,” Avery said.
“No. I’ll do it.” He gulped like he regretted it as soon as he said it. “I’ll do it. We gotta… I gotta call this guy.”
“What?”
“Nevermind. Let’s go,” he said. “Will you buy me some shoes?”
“Wait, what?” Now it was Avery’s turn to repeat that a few times.
“You’ll buy me some new shoes, right? I need sneakers.”
“Oh. Well… Yeah, sure. Okay. No shoe stores are open though. Tomorrow,” Avery said.
“Yeah. Tomorrow.” He seemed ambivalent and nervous about doing this, even though he spoke confidently. His hand trembled when Avery brushed up against it, like he was terrified of accidentally holding hands with Avery. He cleared his throat but didn’t say anything else. His eyes were downcast.
It took Avery an embarrassing amount of time to realize that Malachi wanted him to pay the bill. Avery smiled and did so. He loved paying for men because it always made them nervous and there was nothing alluring than a nervous handsome alpha.
“Did you want me to pay the bill?” Avery asked. “I can treat you.”
Malachi nodded. “Sorry. I’m not a very good Jew.”
The waiter took a long time to finally bring the bill, and Malachi told Avery some long rambling stories about Hanukkahs past. Avery had shockingly little interest in Hanukkah or Jewish holidays in general, but he liked the way Malachi’s big jaw and huge square cheeks worked up and down when he talked. He had a big goofy face like his chest was hollow, and he guzzled from a glass of water like a dying man in a desert.
He had been at his college weight room, Malachi said, that was why he wore his half-shirt and trackpants. He wanted to work out there alone today. He hadn’t even showered afterwards — he said the hot water had been turned off — so he smelled musky and funky, which Avery loved. He had to resist the urge to bury his nose in Malachi’s armpit and sniff.
“I’ll take a shower,” he said when they got back to Avery’s motel room. Malachi gulped and blushed. “Then we can… I dunno, whatever.”
“No. No shower, not yet,” Avery said. “Let’s do the whatever first.”
“Oh god… You’ll definitely buy me shoes, right? Any kind I want?”
Avery furrowed his brow. “What’s your deal with shoes? Is this a trick? I’m not buying like twenty thousand dollar sneakers or something, if that’s what you want.”
“No. They’re like two hundred bucks.”
“That’s fine.”
He took a deep breath. “It’s just… there’s this guy on my team. His name is Raython. It’s a stupid fucking name, and he’s an idiot. I hate him.”
“You hate a lot of your teammates.”
“They’re fucking assholes, every single one of ’em,” he said with a snarl. “Raython is always braggin’ cuz he’s got a sugar daddy. When he started bragging about it in September, I thought everyone would call him call him names.”
“A sugar daddy?”
“But no one called him any names about it! He brags about it! Got some old guy who swallows his loads and buys him shoes and clothes and jewelry! This guy bought him a car! A car! And he sold it, like an asshole, so he could buy some designer handbag for this girl. Fuckin’ purse that costs three grand. Everyone on my team thinks he’s like a fucking genius.”
“So you wanna get in on that? You want a sugar daddy of your own?”
“Hell yeah! I’ll show him up. You gotta buy me something else though too. Besides the shoes,” he said. “Maybe something Jewish. Do they sell blinged-out menorahs? No, that’ll look stupid.” He brought out his smartphone. “I’ll find something on Amazon. The WiFi doesn’t work here, does it?”
“It’s been hit or miss all day.”
“Well, I don’t have much data left on my data package. I’ll probably run out soon. I’ll find something quick. You can order it and have it sent to the college athletic department, that way I’ll open it in front of everyone,” he said. He was intently focused on his phone.
Avery at first thought he should let Malachi take a little time to find something he wanted. But then Avery realized that was silly — he had the entire drive to Sacramento to figure it out. It might take that long too. Avery was beginning to think Malachi wasn’t that smart — he hurried to search Amazon because it hadn’t occurred to him that Avery had a phone as well, and Avery could afford a much larger data plan.
Avery didn’t want to distract him with that though, so he didn’t mention it. He just got down on his knees and planted his face between Malachi’s legs. His track pants smelled very sweaty, which made Avery’s dick hard. He must have worn these whenever he worked out, and he either didn’t wash them very often or he had just sweated into them so much that no amount of washing would clean them.
The taste was salty and bitter and astringent, and it tasted so good Avery drooled onto Malachi’s trackpants. Above his head Malachi grunted and grumbled. He looked down with wide-eyed amazement as though he hadn’t thought Avery was serious.
“Damn… Raython said it was easy,” Malachi said. “But it’s weird. It’s not like a girl. Girls don’t… sniff my crotch. Like a dog.” He laughed nervously.
“That’s cuz girls don’t know what’s good,” Avery said. He smiled and stroked Malachi’s dick through his pants. It was hard almost right away — Malachi had that youthful vigor still, and he got hard at the drop of a hat. Circumcised, of course, but Avery didn’t mind that one bit. It was hefty enough to be meaty in Avery’s hand.
“Shit, my battery’s almost dead too. I don’t know where my charger is,” he said. “Damn it, I’m not gonna have a cell phone all the way back to Sacramento.” Again, it hadn’t occurred to him to ask Avery to buy a new charger for him. Malachi, Avery thought, was a real dumbass. It’s a good thing he’s handsome.
Malachi gasped and his knees buckled when Avery pulled his trackpants down and took his cock out. Once again, Malachi looked shocked that this was happening. He held his cell phone in his hand and tried to keep clicking on it, but he kept getting distracted. “Estimated time remaining: seven minutes,” he said with a chuckle. “I better find something nice in seven minutes. Do you know about black guys? What impresses black guys?”
Slathering spit up and down Malachi’s shaft, Avery didn’t really want to talk. But he felt an obligation to help. “He’ll be more impressed if you aren’t trying to impress him. I thought you wanted girls, not him. What does it matter what he thinks anyway?”
“Cuz he thinks he’s hot shit! He’s some old man’s toy, and he thinks that makes him special! He gets chicks but only because his sugar daddy pays for stuff. He takes ’em out to the theatre, man. Not like a movie, I mean like… musicals and shit.”
“Girls like that-“
“It’s fucked up!” Malachi threw his hands in the air.
“Okay, Malachi-“
“He thinks he’s a fucking gigolo, but he’s not. He’s a manwhore. If his sugar daddy wore a colorful suit, Raython would be a street-walkin’ rentboy,” Malachi said. He looked down and watched his half-hard dick slip into Avery’s mouth, but he watched with disinterest as though he was so intent on fuming about Raython that he didn’t even notice where his dick was.
Avery decided to just ignore it. Malachi would calm down and focus on his dick when he was ready. Soon enough, his cock did get hard. Malachi moaned and bit his lip. He brought his cell phone back up and looked through it some more. “He thinks he’s hot shit because he’s so popular. I’m popular too. I’ve got six minutes left to find something. What about a couch? No, no matter how expensive that is, Raython won’t care. Jewelry, Raython wears jewelry. But I’m white, I’ll just look weird if I wear jewelry.”
Avery flopped Malachi’s massive dick over his face. He slipped his tongue up Malachi’s body, licking sweat off his belly. His muscles twitched and flexed beneath Avery’s tongue.
“What about a butt-dial? What if I accidentally called Raython while you were here? He could hear you giving me money,” Malachi said. “Nah, he’ll just hang up, he won’t listen. He’s at Christmas with his family.”
Avery sucked on each of his nipples. Malachi still didn’t seem to notice, not even when Avery’s tongue traveled up to his neck. Finally when Avery suckled on his neck hard enough to leave a hickey, Malachi winced and pushed Avery back down.
He chuckled dryly, and a bit nervously. “No, no. Anything above the neck is a kiss, man, and I don’t kiss dudes.”
“Okay,” Avery said. He went back to his knees and sucked the sweat off Malachi’s heavy balls, which tasted clean and salty, like a well-used but just-washed jockstrap. Avery sucked every drop of moisture off, making Malachi groan and shake so hard he put his cell phone down.
Precum flowed down Avery’s throat. He gurgled merrily on it, deep-throating Malachi, who seemed to have at last forgotten about his cell phone. He watched with baited breath as Avery swallowed his entire massive rod. Avery’s throat squeezed around it, and Malachi’s muscles all flexed, then relaxed, then rippled as his whole body undulated. His hands fluttered behind Avery’s head.
“Jesus Christ!” Malachi said with a moan. “Hell, I ain’t know dudes could swallow so deep like that. Fuck…”
Avery giggled at the thought of a Jew exclaiming about Jesus on Christmas, but he didn’t want to stop licking Malachi’s cock, so he didn’t point that out. He nuzzled his nose in Malachi’s dense, kinky pubic hairs, his tongue slithering out to tease his entire shaft.
Ready to move on, Avery pulled off his cock. Malachi gasped. Avery smiled up at him. He pulled out a bottle of lube and worked some onto his ass.
“Ah, shit, down to less than four minutes,” Malachi said, picking his phone back up. “Are black guys impressed by dirtbikes? I know the Texans on my team are always bragging-“
“Malachi, stop asking me questions about black guys,” Avery said. “I’m paying you for your dick. You have to focus on that, at least a little bit.”
“Sorry, okay.” He looked genuinely chagrined. “I just only have three minutes left to find something.”
“You have a whole fucking drive to look it up, Malachi, and you can charge your phone in my car. If you do it good enough, I’ll buy you a Ferrari. I can afford it. You need to focus. No matter what you do, the other guys on your team will think you are a pussy if you do it to impress them,” Avery said.
He paused. “A Ferrari? Really?” He sighed. “I don’t think I can do it that good. Sorry.”
“Black guys are not impressed by humility, Malachi,” Avery said, still gathering his breath from that cock in his throat.. He lifted his well-lubed ass up and twinkled his hole in Malachi’s direction.
Malachi sighed. “I guess you’re right. Raython has to find out about this though. I’m only doing it to show him up,” he said. “But I’ll focus on you now. Okay, okay, I can do this,” Malachi said like he was trying to convince himself. He stroked his cock a few times, aiming a very serious face at Avery’s ass, as though it had displeased him by being attached to a male body. He sighed. He winced as he slipped his dick between Avery’s cheeks. Then he smiled. “It really feels like a woman’s ass. Raython always said, that but I didn’t believe him. I’m glad you’re not hairy.”
Avery was about to tell him again to stop talking about Raython, but then Malachi’s cock slid into his well-lubed ass. Avery grunted. A jolt of pain and intense pressure ran up his spine. They both moaned in sync with each other.
The pain slowly melted away, bit by bit with every thrust of Malachi’s cock inside him. It was replaced by an ever-mounting wave of pleasure, growing stronger each time Malachi got another inch of his massive meat inside him. Each thrust amplified the thrumming pleasure in Avery’s body too, which made him growl and paw and the air in front of his face.
After a few moments of awkward dysrhythmic gyrating, Malachi seemed to get his groove. He grunted and moaned as he moved, his rod ramming all the way in then pulling almost all the way out. Avery’s sensitive rim quivered and stretched to accommodate him.
The feelings ricocheting around in Avery’s body were so intense he couldn’t quite handle them. He tried to make feminine orgasmic sounds, since men always preferred that, but the sensations overwhelming him were too potent to control. He couldn’t do anything more than moan and squirm as he struggled to accept Malachi’s dick. Spasms of bliss wracked Avery’s body.
“God damn, boy, hell, you got a nice ass,” Malachi said.
“Oy vey,” Avery said with a giggle. “You got a nice cock, boy.” He leaned his head back and licked Malachi’s meaty pecs.
Malachi chuckled. “This is really easy. I don’t know why I was nervous. I should have been looking for a sugar daddy a long time ago.”
“Yeah. You should. Tell your teammates. All football jocks should have a sugar daddy,” Avery said. His face was red, his own cock throbbing in his hands as he furiously stroked himself off.
Tendrils of orgasmic pleasure shot through Avery’s body. He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, but still moaned so loud he was sure that the tubby guy in the room next door heard. Avery squirmed in Malachi’s powerful arms.
“Oh, fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck…” Malachi gasped like he was surprised to orgasm at all. His muscles flexed and stayed tense, which Avery loved — he licked Malachi’s chest while Malachi’s cock throbbed in his ass.
Avery felt the cum flowing through his shaft even before the first few drops of it sprayed into him. Then there was a torrent of hot, sticky fluids flowing through Avery’s body. He let out a long, low groan that made Malachi shudder, the motion of which kept Avery’s orgasm going and sent Avery over the edge. He shot his own load onto the carpeted floor of the hotel room.
But even though Malachi had begun cumming before Avery, Avery still finished first — Malachi had heavy athlete balls and a hefty, testosterone-filled body, so he shot a massive load that matched his manhood. It just kept on coming, flowing into Avery’s body and trickling throughout his innards. His creamy cum coated Avery’s flesh.
Finally Malachi was done. He sighed and pulled out, making Avery twitch as he collapsed onto the bedspread. Malachi chuckled.
“Well, shit…” Malachi said with a deep breath rattling his cavernous chest.
“You have a nice cock…” Avery said dreamily. He wiped that moist shaft clean with a tissue. Malachi watched him do so with a satisfied grin. His chest had re-broken out with fresh sweat, which Avery licked off his taut flesh.
Malachi flopped down on the bed. He picked up his cell phone again, eyeing Avery dourly as he allowed Avery to lick his muscles. He endured it like a man allowing a pet cat to lick him: with a certain amount of bemusement even though he was annoyed by it.
“Huh, the cell phone’s still working. I’ve still got data, a couple bars left,” he said. He shrugged. “It’s a miracle, I guess. What about…?”
“The Ferrari?”
Malachi nodded.
“If you can do me like that at least twice a day till we get to Sacramento, I’ll buy the Ferrari. Do you have a job?”
“No.”
“Then I’ll also pay for your insurance and gas, but only till the end of the school year. Then I’m taking the Ferrari back,” Avery said. “You won’t be able to afford to keep it going anyway.”
Malachi nodded. “Fine. As long as Raython sees it so I can tell him where I got it.”
“Good. And if you need a note from me to prove it to him, I’ll write you a note, sweetie,” he said. He kissed Malachi on the neck. Malachi bristled but allowed it. Avery smiled as he played with Malachi’s limp dick. “Happy Hanukkah. This is going to be a fun road trip.”
“Yeah,” Malachi said. “Happy Hanukkah.”

The Marine Bottoms

Moshe often stumbles across Marines and cadets from the nearby base, so when one of each approaches his door, he wasn’t surprised. A cadet and his drill sergeant are in desperate need of something only Moshe can provide — a chance for the studly cadet to prove his devotion by bending over, grabbing his ankles and whistling dixie while Moshe goes to town all over his alpha-male ass!

Read it now as an ebook!

Or read the whole thing here!

The Megillah was even more difficult to get right this year. Every year, Moshe found that he struggled a bit more to get the pronunciation right and to nail the rhythm of it — he didn’t speak Hebrew that well, much to his shame, and now that he no longer lived in Israel, he was losing his memory of the language. But every year during Purim, his family had him read the Megillah (that’s the same thing as the Bible’s Book of Esther and is part of the Tanakh whose recitation during the holy season of Purim is required for observant Jews; Purim is a March holiday that commemorates the Jews’s deliverance from certain genocide in the ancient Persian Empire). It was a sort of family tradition.
If Moshe had gotten married and had a child or two, his family would have had his kid begin reading the Megillah, or at least a few brief segments of it as he learned Hebrew. But Moshe had no desire for a child and seemed likely to remain a perpetual bachelor. That was exactly how he liked it.
That was why it remained his increasingly awkward duty to recite the Megillah every year.
There was a knock on the door. Moshe sighed and went to see who it was — if it was his NRA-loving, conservative neighbor with another gun-rights pamphlet, he was going to file a harassment complaint. He had promised himself that before as well, but he didn’t like to make waves, and it was always simpler just to take him at his word that he wouldn’t be back.
But it wasn’t that neighbor at all, it was the neighbor from the house on the other side, Sergeant Powers. Moshe didn’t see that much of him. He was from Camp Pendleton, the Marine Corps training facility here in San Diego. While Sergeant Powers was not exactly “nice”, he was always polite. Moshe rather liked him, certainly compared to the other neighbor.
It helped, of course, that Sergeant Powers was a big burly bear of a man, with muscles and a square jaw and so much swagger that Moshe nearly came in his pants the first time he had spied Powers lifting weights shirtless in his backyard. Today he was here, bright and early in the morning, with a younger man in tow.
The younger man was just as alluring as Powers and arguably even more sexy in a classic sense. The cadet had a Hollywood-handsome dimpled face, kind eyes and it was apparent he sported a six-pack under his t-shirt. Sergeant Powers was a bit older, with a few tinges of gray in his crewcut, and while he still had the body of a Marine, it showed notable wear and tear. The younger cadet was smooth, pert and taut, with dark hair and skin, an olive complexion and deep, dark eyes.
As Moshe opened the door, he realized the younger man looked like a cadet — he wore a crew-cut and a faded green t-shirt with short shorts, both of which appeared to be Marine Corps-issued. They were wrinkled as though he had been roused from bed early in the morning to come here.
“Shalom, Moshe,” Sergeant Powers said. He smiled. Moshe had taught him the word ‘shalom’ a few weeks ago, and now he used it every chance he got. “This is Cadet Pucci. He has a favor to ask you. May we come in?”
“Uh… I suppose,” Moshe said. He led them into his living room, where they both sat down. The situation was tense — Sergeant Powers appeared angry, enough so that Moshe wondered if he had done something wrong. Cadet Pucci, however, looked upset and guilty, as though it was he who had done something wrong. Moshe felt small and girlish in comparison to these two hulking brutes. Moshe cleared his throat. “A favor? I’m sorry, do I know you, Cadet… Antonio?”
Cadet Pucci shook his head. His face was worried, his dimples deep. He licked his lips. “Name’s Cadet Pucci, sir. I was askin’ Sarge here, man, I was-” He stopped talking and winced as Sergeant Powers cleared his throat. Cadet Pucci started again, his voice stilted and awkward. “Good morning, sir. I was hoping I could get your assistance this morning. I am a cadet at Camp Pendleton, and I need a day off-“
“The fuck you do!” Sergeant Powers barked.
Cadet Pucci again blanched and looked down at his feet. “I don’t need a day off. I want one. I’m a lazy guido bastard,” he said, looking to Powers as though expecting him to confirm it — he nodded his assent to Pucci’s words. Then Cadet Pucci continued. “I already had some leave, two weeks ago. And I met this girl. She was beautiful, you wouldn’t even believe it, she looked like, bam! She-” Cadet Pucci stopped himself, his hands fluttered by his sides like he wanted to mime out the silhouette of her body. He cleared his throat. “Well, she was hot as a frying pan, shit! And she’s moving to Georgia, so tonight is the last time I might see her. And I asked my sergeant if I could move a day of leave up. I wouldn’t even have to miss any training, I could leave at night-“
“Tell him why I said no,” Sergeant Powers said gruffly. He placed one hand on Cadet Pucci’s shoulder and squeezed.
“I… I have not always been followin’ the rules,” Cadet Pucci said. “I snuck out before. That was just to get laid though. I didn’t love that girl.”
“You don’t love any girl,” Sergeant Powers said with a scoff, like he disbelieved in the entire concept.
“I do!” Cadet Pucci said as his cheeks blushed. He looked to Moshe. “And anyway, Sergeant Powers said I had to prove I loved her and I wasn’t just after sex.”
“I may be a hardass, but I ain’t gonna stand in the way of true love,” Sergeant Powers said, mockingly wiping a tear from his eye. “Cadet Pucci skipped over a few details. He tried to sneak out for trim four times — that I know of. I caught him each time, so he been skatin’ on very thin ice for some time. He has been one mouthy fuck since the day his wop-dago ass got here.”
“So… uh,” Cadet Pucci said. “If you want… you don’t have to, sir. But, uh, if you want… we could, y’know… do stuff.” His cheeks were red as cherries now. “Like… masturbation stuff.” That made Powers snort and laugh under his breath. Cadet Pucci added, “Or like, whatever. I could do stuff — it’d be worth it to do, you know… whatever. Like cornholing.”
“What?” Moshe was shocked — he had thought Cadet Pucci was going to ask for a ride or for help finding the local girl, something like that. Sometimes cadets at the military base did that. Moshe liked to help them out when he could.
And he liked to help them out when they let him play with their dicks, which they very often did. Nobody is hornier than a Marine at boot camp. Or not yet a Marine, an almost-Marine.
“He’ll do anything you want, Moshe,” Sergeant Powers said. “I want to see how devoted he is to this girl. Plus as long as he gets his rocks off now, I’ll now he ain’t motivated by overflowing balls neither.” He looked at Cadet Pucci and nodded. “Go on, tell him.”
Cadet Pucci sighed. “I’ll… jerk you off, and you can plow me in the ass as hard as you want.” He blushed intensely. Then he took off his shirt, revealing a perfectly tapered torso and a powerful chest, which he flexed. He smiled proudly, though still shamefully, as Moshe looked on. He was splendidly muscled, his shoulders as broad as a barn, and he reeked of youth and sweat and power. Moshe’s dick was already twitching in his pants.
“I thought you’d enjoy this,” Sergeant Powers said.
Moshe nodded. This was awkward, but he certainly was not going to refuse such an incredible opportunity. He wasn’t sure how to begin, and now that he knew what was happening, he couldn’t stop himself from jumping right into it. His dick jerked to half-mast just from the realization of what was about to happen.
After a few seconds of silence, Cadet Pucci closed his eyes like he expected Moshe to get started, which was exactly what he did. Moshe dropped to his knees.
He dove into Cadet Pucci’s crotch before he could drop those shorts, which were musty, moist and sprinkled with dried salt from Cadet Pucci’s sweat. He must have been doing PT in these shorts for weeks, Moshe thought, wondering how long it had been since they were washed. It smelled like a long-time. He tasted layers of dried-in funk. His thick cock and heavy balls were cradled beneath the fabric by his Marine Corps-issued underwear. Moshe licked the bulge from top to bottom, and stuck his head between Cadet Pucci’s trunk-like thighs. Sergeant Powers laughed, either out of discomfort or glee at Cadet Pucci’s stiff-bodied anxiety.
“At attention, solider!” Powers barked. Cadet Pucci stood straight and tall, arms trembling as Moshe’s hands explored his bare upper body. His pecs twitched beneath Moshe’s fingers. Additional beads of nervous sweat appeared on his shoulders, and Moshe smeared them over his musculature.
Horniness arising from deep within and overwhelming him, Moshe wanted desperately to taste every inch of Cadet Pucci’s body and to feel his cock deep inside him. But Moshe also enjoyed topping, and he knew he’d never get a chance to top someone like this again. So he was in a quandary about how to proceed — he decided his best bet was to help Cadet Pucci relax a little by swallowing his cumload first. This would be better for everyone if Cadet Pucci were aroused too, and a virile young Marine like Cadet Pucci would surely cum quickly.
Moshe pulled down Cadet Pucci’s shorts and underwear, whistling to show his appreciation at Pucci’s big uncut cock — alphas loved it when you pretended they had some uniquely huge and wonderful cock. Pucci’s was in fact huge and wonderful, but then Moshe liked all dicks, so it wasn’t unique. Still, the smell of his rank crotch and his heavy balls made Moshe wrinkle his nose as desire flooded him, and Moshe’s dick rocketed to full erection in his pants. Without a word of warning, Moshe swallowed it to the root, as Cadet Pucci gasped and struggled to remain at attention.
“That girl worth it, Cadet Pucci?” Sergeant Powers asked. From his vantage point, Moshe couldn’t see or hear Cadet Pucci’s response, but it must have been yes, judging from the way Powers grunted back at him. Then Cadet Pucci’s entire body stiffened even more, and he yelped. Moshe saw Sergeant Powers’s hand disappearing behind Moshe’s ass.
“You got a tight ass, Cadet. That must be why all the girls like you,” Powers said. He smirked and licked his teeth as he did something with his hand that made Cadet Pucci gasp, bug out and clench his teeth tight.
He must have stuck a finger in there, Moshe realized with a sense of shock. Cadet Pucci’s toes curled and his hands tightened into fists behind his back as he submitted to the fingering. But the prostate stimulation helped him get hard too, and soon his cock was pulsating in Moshe’s mouth.
The taste of precum hit Moshe’s tongue. Above his head, he heard Sergeant Powers get close enough he was nearly kissing Moshe on the cheek. He spoke softly but with an authoritarian tenor to his voice. “That girl still worth it?” He violently rammed his finger — or maybe more than one finger, Moshe couldn’t see — in and out of Cadet Pucci’s juicy asscheeks. Cadet Pucci yelped and blushed, and for a moment he wasn’t at attention, he was leaning on Moshe’s shoulder, his knees buckling as pain and prostate pleasure alike rocketed up his spine.
“Yes,” Cadet Pucci said through gritted teeth. His muscles undulated in sync with his sergeant’s finger ramming into his asshole. His muscles all flexed every time he winced. He bit his lip. “I have to see her this weekend. I love her. Sir.”
Moshe stood and took off his own clothes. He felt tiny next to these two hulking men. Moshe was short, fair-haired and smooth-bodied, lean and trim. He had always been skinny, and though he had been working on bulking up, he simply didn’t have the body type to get big. That was very much unlike Cadet Pucci, whose broad body and fat cock seemed to take up all of the space in this room.
“Gimme one of your hands, Cadet Pucci,” Moshe said as authoritatively as he could muster. Sergeant Powers chuckled at the weak tenor of his voice, and he repeated the order.
“Give ‘im a hand, Cadet Pucci.”
Cadet Pucci did so, gingerly placing his hand on Moshe’s cock. He shrank back as soon as he touched it, as though he had never touched a hard dick before. Then he gripped it again and gave it a tentative stroke.
Moshe had to stand on his toes to kiss Cadet Pucci on the lips, which he did even as Cadet Pucci kept his face straight and stony, so it was like kissing a warm statue. Moshe’s tongue pushed into Pucci’s mouth — on one level, it was a bad kiss, Pucci’s tongue was limp and still like a dead rooster, but on the other level, it was warm and nervous and oh-so-macho. Moshe didn’t mind the lack of passion, as he rather enjoyed the roughness of Pucci’s fingers and the shamefully aroused passion of his body, which still stood at attention. He wasn’t even really stroking Moshe’s cock anymore, he just held onto it loosely while Moshe humped his manhood into Cadet Pucci’s grip. It took all of Pucci’s focus to remain at attention with Sarge’s finger in his tight ass and Pucci’s own hand on Moshe’s precum-soaked cock.
Then Moshe leapt into Pucci’s arms and mounted his chest. Cadet Pucci grunted in surprise and nearly fell over, but he was strong enough to support Moshe even without preparing for it first. He looked down in shock at the sight of Moshe’s hard dick on Pucci’s gym-toned torso, spewed precum over his six-pack abs.
Scooting up Pucci’s trunk-like chest, Moshe let his dick rest between those mountainous pecs, which were still hard from the tension and the pain in his ass. Now that his head was over Pucci’s body, Moshe could see Sergeant Powers’s cruel smile as he wedged a second finger into Pucci’s asshole. His cheeks jiggled marvelously.
Using Pucci’s head for support, Moshe climbed up even farther, until his crotch was right in Pucci’s face. His dick leaked fluids over his nose and cheeks, and Cadet Pucci trembled as he tried hard to avoid gagging.
“This still worth it, Cadet?”
“Sir, yes, sir.” Pucci’s voice was pinched and strained, and muffled by the cockshaft pulsating against his lips. He gagged as the taste of cock flooded his senses.
Moshe struggled to get his dick into Pucci’s mouth from this angle. He had to angle his hips outward, and Cadet Pucci had to support his ass with both hands, but when he did, Cadet Pucci swallowed his entire cock easily. He was a big man, so he had a big throat. Even as it spasmed and choked on the flavor, and Cadet Pucci blushed intensely, he let Moshe’s dick enter his throat. He swallowed it down deep, until his nose was nestled in Moshe’s crotch.
A moan escaped from Moshe’s lips, as Antonio gagged. Cadet Pucci had that thick lustrous dark hair that Italian men were known for. It was cut into a short Marine Corps crew-cut, but it was obvious that he had perfect politician’s-hair when he let it grow out. Moshe gripped his head, savoring the rolls of flesh in the back of his scalp as he shoved his dick down the man’s spasming throat.
From this vantage point, Moshe saw Sergeant Powers’s hand in Pucci’s ass. He smiled at Moshe, who threw his head back and moaned, and Sergeant Powers slowly worked a second finger in. Cadet Pucci bucked and he nearly fell over again, but managed to stay standing, despite the series of gags wracking his throat.
“Keep at attention, Cadet!”
It didn’t take very much for Moshe to feel his orgasm coming. He didn’t want to end like this, without plowing Cadet Pucci in the tight Italian ass, so he hopped down from the man’s shoulders. Pucci’s entire face was moist with precum and his own saliva, which dripped from his lips — he couldn’t wipe his face off without breaking his posture, so he remained there with his wrinkled-nose face shiny, manfluids running in rivulets down his square jaw.
“Gimme twenty!” Moshe said, and after a moment’s hesitation to consider whether to obey, Cadet Pucci dropped to the ground.
He began doing push-ups, counting them off as Sarge put one hand on his bare back to guide him. As he did so, Moshe mounted Pucci’s ass, just wedging his dick between the cheeks for now. Antonio struggled to keep going with the push-ups now that he had Moshe’s weight on his back. His firm back muscles flexed beneath Moshe’s smooth body.
“One!” Sergeant Powers said as he watched Cadet Pucci struggle to get his push-ups right. “I ain’t countin’ these granny-push-ups, Cadet. Do ’em properly!”
Cadet Pucci began doing push-ups much more slowly with Moshe’s weight on his back. He grunted and heaved with each motion. His powerful biceps worked up and down.
“C’mon, Cadet, don’t give up!” Sergeant Powers barked. He got on his knees right in front of Pucci’s face and demanded he keep going. Pucci’s back muscles strained, covered in sweat.
As Cadet Pucci struggled to finish his push-ups, Moshe again had to work on his angle so he could penetrate the cadet. He lowered his body until his cock lined up with Pucci’s ass, then he managed to get the tip of his dick in while still resting his body on Pucci’s ass. Instantly, Cadet Pucci dropped to the floor, gritting his teeth with pain. He squirmed there.
“Get up, Cadet! You fuckin’ pussy! If you can’t finish these push-ups, I swear to Christ you’ll never do a push-up without a cock in your ass again!”
Cadet Pucci struggled back to supporting himself on his arms and legs, while Moshe worked his dick in deeper, rocking his body back and forth to help it slide in. Pucci’s hole had been loosened a bit by Sarge’s fingers, but it was still so tight Moshe though he might cum from the moment he entered. The squeeziness of his booty sent waves of pleasure to crash through Moshe’s twink frame.
“He keepin’ hisself open how you want it, Moshe?” Sergeant Powers asked.
“Yeah, Sarge,” Moshe said. “He’s doin’ good.” That was when Moshe noticed that Powers had a bulge in his shorts too. Moshe reached for that bulge without giving it a second thought, and blushed when Sergeant Powers smiled.
“Stick it in me…” Moshe said, his voice weak and breathless as he worked to hold back his orgasm. He stopped moving with his cock all the way in Pucci’s ass, letting it throb there,
Powers grinned. He smacked Pucci’s ass and laughed at how the motion made him writhe and flex every muscle on his powerful body. Then Sergeant Powers got behind Moshe and pulled his shorts down.
He rammed his dick in hard and grunted as it melted right in. Moshe was well-practiced at taking huge cocks like his — and at taking Powers’s cock specifically — so he gritted his teeth and submitted to it. He dug his nails into Pucci’s broad back as he loosened himself up. He lost himself in the exquisite sandwich of Marine meat both in front and behind him.
Cadet Pucci stopped doing push-ups. Nobody was counting anymore, but Moshe was fairly sure he had hit at least twenty — though Sergeant Powers had refused to count many of them. Regardless, Cadet Pucci lay flat on the ground now, grunting with every thrust of Moshe’s dick and yelping when Powers thrust into Moshe, which forced Moshe to penetrate Cadet Pucci even harder.
Moshe felt like a bug being squashed between two large stone statues. Powers, however, was a bit soft — he was bigger than Cadet Pucci, but older, hairier and less perfectly etched. Moshe was fine with that. While he certainly appreciated the Hollywood-handsome good lucks of Cadet Pucci, he enjoyed the burly hairiness of Sergeant Powers as well.
As Moshe neared orgasm, he rested his face in Pucci’s broad, sweat-covered back. He licked his strapping muscles. Above him, Powers did much the same, resting his weight partially on his knees but also on Moshe. That put Powers’s head above Moshe and near Pucci’s ruddy, wincing face.
“You like this, Cadet?”
“Sir, no, sir!”
“Good,” Powers said. He laughed as he licked Pucci’s earlobe, making Cadet Pucci shudder in humiliation and agony. Moshe managed to get one of his hands under Pucci’s body, and was surprised to feel a rock-hard cock — he must really enjoy prostate stimulation, Moshe thought. He stroked Pucci’s dick the best he could, and Cadet Pucci began humping his hips instinctively.
“Tell me when you feel cum in yer ass,” Sergeant Powers said. When Cadet Pucci winced and looked away, he repeated himself. “I wanna cum at the same time. So tell me.”
It looked like Cadet Pucci didn’t want to acknowledge the feeling of semen in his ass, but he nodded anyway. As Moshe felt his orgasm approach, Powers lifted both Cadet Pucci and Moshe, so all three were on their knees. Moshe was still sandwiched between the huge men on both sides of him, and Moshe barely even moved himself, allowing both men’s powerful bodies to provide all the motion. Moshe just licked and sucked on the taut muscles all around him.
In the end, Cadet Pucci acknowledged it even before Moshe had realized he was cumming. His orgasm washed over his body and made him shudder with delight. His spine was wracked by exquisite pain from his ass, which mingled with the pleasure he felt all over. Hot cum sprayed within Pucci’s asshole.
Then, a few seconds later, both Cadet Pucci and Sergeant Powers shot their own load. Powers had a huge wad that sunk into every corner of Moshe’s body, while Cadet Pucci bucked and gagged when he shot his load into the palm of Moshe’s waiting hand.
While all three dicks limpened, Moshe raised his handful of steaming cum to Pucci’s mouth. Cadet Pucci gagged again, and winced, still in pain from Moshe’s dick in his ass.
“Open your mouth, Cadet,” Sergeant Powers said. “Still worth it?”
Cadet Pucci opened his mouth. “Absolutely worth it, Sarge.” Moshe emptied the cumload into Pucci’s mouth, and sighed as Pucci’s ass clenched around his cock once more. Cadet Pucci choked and gagged down every drop.
And then it was at last over. Powers dismounted Moshe, who pulled away from Pucci’s naked, moist body. Cadet Pucci collapsed onto the ground, but only for a moment before Sergeant Powers barked at him to get up.
“Up, Cadet, at attention!”
Pucci’s ass was in terrible pain, so his knees buckled, but he managed to stand at attention. His limp dick hung between his legs. Moshe giggled as he stroked it and got a few nervous shakes from Pucci’s body, tensing his muscles again as his overly sensitive dick throbbed in Moshe’s fingers.
Moshe smiled. “I guess his love is true, Sarge,” he said.
Sarge nodded. “I sure thought he’d back out,” he said. “Alright, Cadet Pucci, you can have your leave, and I won’t charge you for conduct unbecoming.”
Cadet Pucci gasped. “Thank you, Sergeant Powers,” he said, then added, “And Moshe, thank you too.” He cleared his throat. “Perhaps when I want an extra night off in the future-“
“Absolutely-” Moshe said, but was interrupted by Sergeant Powers.
“No way, Cadet. Next time, you submit to me,” Powers said with a grin.

The Santa Monica Alpha

Moshe’s violin concert ends on a surprising note, when a massive alpha cholo comes to him with an unusual request… Sazonito wants to explore the exciting world of twink on top!

Read it now as an ebook!

Moshe Katz always meditated after a concert. The actual performance was so nervewracking that he needed a release or he’d remain wired, unable to sleep, for hours afterwards. He’d be jittery untol the morning. His shows were not huge — he was as big of a star as existed in the classical piano scene, but that was not saying much. The audience was just big enough to be scary and anxiety-provoking, and it was made even worse tonight because the Israeli Minister of Cultural Development was in attendance here in Santa Monica.
There was a knock on his dressing room door. Moshe sighed. He had requested not to be bothered after a concert. He told everyone that. He was almost done with his half hour of meditation, but he still had two minutes left. He got such little time to himself, he was jealous to maintain it. He even considered ignoring the knock for two minutes, but whoever it was kept knocking.
Ignoring the knock would seem petty and rude, he decided. He was petty and rude, so he tried to hide it when he could. It might have been a fan anyway.
Yes, a classical pianist has fans. He has a Facebook group! Almost two thousand subscribers!
When he opened the door, he had to suppress a yelp. His eyes bugged up. Standing in front of him was a tall Latino man with the staggering body of a football player, crammed into an ill-fitting suit made of mismatched parts. Cholo tattoos crept up his neck, barely visible behind the suit. He had the macho air of a gangster, and Moshe’s heart leapt into his chest.
“Yo, hombre, Meester Katz, señor,” he said, narrowing his eyes as though to size Moshe up.
Moshe forced on a smile. “Please, call me, Moshe, sir.” He hoped that didn’t sound rude. This man was making him both scared and aroused — he looked like a thug, a vato, a murderer or extortionist, maybe, what Moshe would have called in Hebrew a בִּריוֹן. Moshe knew the type well from his native Israel — this was simply some Mexican-American variant of it. He was only vaguely aware of the word cholo, but he knew this man was one. He also knew security was just around the corner, and Moshe’s mind told him to yell for help. But the man was also a big burly-bear type who looked like he hadn’t worn a suit since high school prom, if he even was still in school then. His slacks were slung low, pristine sneakers poking out from the oversized trouser-legs.
As a long-time connoisseur of the male form, the stranger’s powerhouse body allured and intrigued Moshe.
“Moshe,” the man said, with some difficulty. He clicked his tongue against his teeth. “Yo, hombre… I… I gotta say, I ain’t come here tonight cuz I thought I wuz gonna like yu’ music, yo.”
“I see…” Moshe said, though he very much did not. The man’s face was tight, tense, and fearful, like he struggled to put into words what he wanted to say — or perhaps he just struggled to find the English words. Moshe didn’t know whether this guy was going to rob him, burst into tears or plow him, but Moshe felt sure it was going to be at least one of those things, maybe all three at once.
“I’s just here, hombre, cuz I need a alibi, right? I need everyone to know I weren’t at this other place somewhere else, cuz I know the polizontes is gonna think I was there,” he said. “But I’m here. My… boss, he said to come here. To see you. Mess wit’ my parole officer’s head. Gonna flip his lid when he find out I ain’t lying ‘bout where I was.” He laughed dryly. Then he blinked his eyes. “But yo’ music, esé… It was… special to me. I dunno how to say it. It moved me, hombre.”
“Oh, okay… That’s, uh… amazing. Flattering. Thank you, uh… I’m sorry, your name is-“
“You can call me Sazonito,” he said. He pushed into the room and let the door shut behind himself. “You are… a sissy, right?” He whispered as though it was a secret.
Moshe nodded, heart pounding. Was this burly vato about to let him jerk him off? That was the impression Moshe got from the aroused look in the man’s eye. What did Sazonito mean in Spanish? Moshe didn’t know. He had a feeling it was not a name though.
“I feel like… you and me, we had a close connection when you was playing. I been alone along time, Moshe,” he said, again struggling to say the name in his thick accent. “I wanna taste. I want you to fill me up wit’cho manhood. Please, esé. I wanna feel you inside me. You gots a beautiful soul, hombre.”
“Oh… You want me to plow you?” Moshe asked, certain that this was just a language barrier. Gigantic macho bulls like Sazonito didn’t let themselves get plowed by tiny Jewish twinks like Moshe.
But he couldn’t deny that Sazonito knelt down and kissed Moshe as passionately and intensely as any woman ever had or could. It was also clear that Sazonito was uncomfortable with it and had either never done it before or maybe never done it willingly. He hesitated as he kissed, like his body fought against himself to do it.
His lips were thick and plump, the surface a bit dry and chapped but not grossly so. His massive arms wrapped around Moshe’s body and held him close. He was so much taller and thicker than the notably tiny Moshe that Moshe felt like a little boy being hugged by his daddy. He reeked of cheap cologne covering up the intense musk emanating from his armpits and his sweat-soaked back.
“Uh… Sazonito…?” Moshe pulled away. This time it was his body’s turn to fight it — he wanted nothing more than to do whatever this massive hulking brute demanded, but Moshe’s instincts said to either run away, surrender or get on his knees and jerk Sazonito off rather than the other way around.
“What? Please plow me…” He sounded like he was near tears.
“Are you… sure?”
He hung his head and began unbuttoning his shirt. He shrugged his tuxedo jacket off, and it fell on the floor. “I was in prison for six years. They just let me out last week, esé. I… I wanted to try it in there, but I can’t lose face. I would be disrespected. I want to feel your cock inside me. I want to pretend I love you.”
Well, that was pretty clear, Moshe thought, Sazonito is certain he wants to do this. No more ambiguity about his intentions.
Yet Moshe still felt sure a catch was going to come up sooner or later. Was he an undercover cop? What would be the point of that — he wasn’t proposing anything illegal. Was this all a trick to do with that alibi he had wanted to establish? But simply coming to the concert in front of all those witnesses and cameras would be enough. Jerking someone off in secret wouldn’t make the alibi more convincing.
And he was here. Whatever was going on somewhere else, Sazonito wasn’t there. He was here. That was not a trick. Moshe stared in disbelief as Sazonito removed his clothes. He carefully folded up his suit — which he had obviously made by purchasing cast-offs from a thrift shop — and placed it on the chair in Moshe’s dressing room.
His tattiied chest was even bigger and sexier than Moshe had imagined, brimming with power that Moshe could feel radiating off it. He was more aroused at the sight of Sazonito’s naked body than he ever had been before. It might not have been his usual cup of tea, but Moshe intended to guzzle every drop of it.
“Déjame probar su polla…”
Sazonito was inked all over with tattoos and scars. Since tattoos were forbidden under Jewish law, Moshe had rarely seen any in person. He had never seen a naked man with numerous tattoos covering nearly every inch of his body. A lot of them appeared to be amateurish, perhaps done in prison. Scars, seemingly from knives or perhaps bullets or taser prongs, dotted his muscles, which bulged as though they were going to burst out of his skin.
Keeping eye contact with Moshe, Sazonito sunk to his knees as he dropped his prison-issued boxers to the ground. His long cock was uncut, dangling limp and meaty between his legs. That was another part of Sazonito’s physique that was new to Moshe — his uncircumized cock. Moshe had never seen a foreskin up close and personal.
Moshe instinctively wanted to get on his knees as well, because Sazonito’s cock was fat and juicy, and it was already stirring with the beginnings of an erection. Yet much to his surprise, Sazonito really did want to take that place, kneeling afronta Moshe.
Still certain the rug was about to be pulled out from under him, Moshe was so distracted he hadn’t even started to undress himself. Sazonito’s thick fingers fumbled with Moshe’s designer slacks, dropping them to his ankles, which was enough to wake Moshe from his fugue. He quickly took off his own shirt and tie while Moshe pulled his underwear down as well.
Was this really happening? Was it a dream? Moshe still wasn’t sure this wasn’t a trick. But if so, Sazonito was taking it all the way.
“Te ves tan sabrosa…”
He picked up Moshe’s dick and smelled it like he was checking to see if it was ripe, then he wrinkled his nose as though he wasn’t sure. That didn’t stop him though, he opened his mouth and swallowed it as deep as he could. Sazonito’s eyes widened, and he paused for a moment like he was holding back a choke.
Nothing happened though. Moshe was still so shocked he didn’t even feel anything at first, then the sensation of Sazonito’s warm mouth and moist tongue sent ripples of pleasure through Moshe’s body. His cock rapidly swelled to full tumescence, and it poked into Sazonito’s throat.
Moshe wasn’t small in the cock department, so Sazonito’s unpracticed mouth didn’t manage to deep-throat the whole thing. He let out a loud retching sound, which Moshe couldn’t quite interpret — was he suppressing a gag or pushing back a moan of desire? Maybe both?
This was all happening so fast. Moshe’s knees went weak as his dick went hard. His hands fumbled — he was too nervous to actually grab Sazonito, who seemed too frightening to touch. Moshe’s instinctive mind worried he wouldn’t let a little Jewish man touch him, so Moshe’s hands hovered above Sazonito’s head.
Sazonito was so much larger than Moshe that he had to stoop way over to swallow his cock. It felt like Sazonito took up the entire dressing room, and Moshe just inhabited a tiny corner of it. As his dick throbbed in Sazonito’s mouth, Moshe moaned exquisitely.
“I, uh… Oh… Wow, Sazonito…” Moshe mumbled, too embarrassed to think of anything to say. Moshe had too much propriety for dirty-talk. He could only mumble as he worked his precum-leaking cock down Sazonito’s throat.
But breaking the silence made this whole thing easier for Moshe; it relaxed him and made him realize that, if a reprisal was coming, he was safe for now. He came crashing back down to reality just in time for a wave of pleasure to roll over his body like a tsunami. His knees again went weak, and as he buckled, he would have fallen but he gripped Sazonito’s broad shoulders. The warmth of his rippling muscles was intense; was it normal for someone to be that hot to the touch? Moshe didn’t think so, but all he could do in response was moan again. He bucked his hips, slamming his dick all the way into Sazonito’s throat. Sazonito’s nose nestled itself in Moshe’s pubic hair.
He thought that might make Sazonito pause and back out, but he only got more into it. He nuzzled his nose deep in Moshe’s dick as he forced himself to deep-throat it. Moshe’s cock rammed all the way down his gullet, the precum flowing copiously now. Sazonito guzzled it greedily as though he had been swallowing cock his whole life.
Moshe’s instincts kicked in and he grabbed ahold of Sazonito’s head. He pushed his dick in and pulled it out, with so much force each time he didn’t think he had ever throated anyone so aggressively. For tiny twink Moshe, it was the most potent plow of his life — he had a feeling Sazonito still thought of him as weak and feckless.
Then Sazonito pulled off. Thick tendrils of saliva connected his face to Moshe’s dickshaft and down to his balls. He flat-lipped his face up at Moshe and said, “You are beautiful, esé. Can you play your violin while you plow me?”
“Yes,” Moshe said without thinking about it. He wasn’t sure that was really true though. The violin required all of his concentration, could he really do it while plowing Sazonito up the ass? It seemed dirty, almost disrespectful of the instrument.
But the sight of Sazonito’s broad bare ass as he bent over in the center of the dressing room made Moshe willing to try anything. He grabbed his violin and put it on his shoulder.
“Please, plow me hard, Moshe,” Sazonito said softly. He hung his head as though a bit ashamed, even as he reached one hand behind himself to spread his asscheeks. He had powerful thighs and thickly muscled cheeks, so thick he felt like two powerful men stuffed into one skinsuit.
Without hands, Moshe managed to wedge his dick into the hairy crack of Sazonito’s ass — Moshe had always thought a hairy ass was unattractive, right up until this moment. Now he wanted more than anything to fill Sazonito with his cock.
But he needed both hands to play the violin. That meant he couldn’t guide his dick in. In any case, Sazonito’s intact butthole was resistant, and even when he attempted at it the best he could, not even the tip went in.
Then, much to Moshe’s surprise, Sazonito’s hand spread his cheeks and then pushed the tip of Moshe’s dick in. The soft, luxuriant hair of his ass brushed against Moshe’s pulsating manhood.
“Ah, damn, hombre…”
Sazonito arched his back as Moshe played the first few notes of “Shalom Chaverim”, an Israeli folk song that he knew very well because he often used it to warm-up. It was the only simple song he could think of that he knew well and that wasn’t religious or nationalist (both of which seemed inappropriate, even sinful, to play in this situation). The notes rang out in the tiny dressing room.
Sazonito stuck his head up and moaned. Again it wasn’t clear if he moaned in pain and humiliation or in bliss, or maybe a bit of both. His ears wiggled as though he carefully scrutinized every ringing note from Moshe’s violin.
He was surprised how easy it was once he got started. Moshe could play on autopilot since the song was so simple, and once he got started, it was surprisingly easy to plow Sazonito without the use of his hands. Sazonito’s ass practically swallowed his cock up. It was not easy, however, to get his entire dick in there. Sazonito was clearly intact and had trouble taking the whole thing.
Not that he was resisting. Every thrust of Moshe’s cock sent a bolt of pleasure through his body and a wave of some sensation through Sazonito’s too. Sazonito grunted like he was in pain, and he moaned like he was in bliss, and he clawed at the ground as Moshe’s balls slapped against the meat of his asscheeks.
Judging from the look on Sazonito’s face, he was more entranced by the music than overwhelmed by the agonizing pleasure in his ass. After a few moments, Sazonito even started jacking himself off with one hand. He must have already gotten a hardon.
The more and more he rammed at Sazonito’s ass, the braver Moshe got, until his balls were thwacking against Sazonito’s meaty asscheeks. Moshe’s dick slid in and out, easier with every thrust of his hips, and each time Sazonito gasped while pre-orgasmic pleasure rippled over his tattooed back muscles.
With one powerful thrust, Moshe managed to shove the last of his cock into Sazonito’s body. Sazonito moaned and grunted. His ass clenched, which Moshe could tell was because he neared his orgasm. Neither man was quite there yet, and Moshe tried to drag this out — he didn’t want to rush through the sexual experience of a lifetime. It felt so good his knees went weak.
Then the phone rang.
Both Moshe and Sazonito stopped moving. Moshe’s heart skipped a beat thinking he had been caught, then realized that was silly — he wasn’t breaking any rules.
And in any case, he soon realized it wasn’t his phone. It was Sazonito’s
Sazonito grabbed his cell phone out of the pants of his tuxedo, which was folded up on the chair near his head. He put it on speaker because, it seemed, he was too overwhelmed to hold it to his ear.
“Yo. What?”
You still there, vato?
“Si.”
What’s going on?
“Todavía estoy allí.”
Yeah, I… Somethin’ wrong? Speak English, motherfucker. You know I don’t know español that good.
“I’m still here. I’m talking to the violinista entre bastidores. Él es judío, pero él está bien.”
What? Nevermind, man. Just hurry up. It’s all good.
“Okay.”
… You takin’ a shit, vato?
“No.”
You sound like-
“Shut up.”
Fine, look, vato… Just don’t go to Mario’s place like we planned. His mama there. But it all went down just like we wanted.
“¿Son los traidores muertos?” He groaned, the words escaping from gritted teeth. His voice had an agonizing slowness to it, like he was grinding the words from stones in his mouth.
Si, esé.
“Good. Estoy colgando el teléfono. No me llame de nuevo unless someone is dead who is not s’posed to be,” Sazonito said, then he angrily hung up the phone and threw it back at his crumpled-up tuxedo on the floor. “Fuckin’ puta…”
Then Sazonito’s back arched as though he only just remembered he was getting plowed. His mouth opened like he wanna shout or maybe moan, but no sound came out. He pushed his ass back on Moshe’s dick, sending a wave of pleasure rocking up Moshe’s spine. Moshe gasped, his fingers digging into the meaty thickness of Sazonito’s back. Sazonito writhed before him, lifting one of his massive trunk-like thighs up as he accepted every inch of Moshe’s dick.
Moshe had gradually lost his inhibitions, and by now, he was ramming back and forth as if Sazonito’s ass was his fleshlight. At this point he figured if it was a trick, he might as well lean into it. It was the most enjoyable trick of his life.
He started playing the violin again. This time he played “Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds”, another song he knew well enough to play by heart. Once again Sazonito shuddered and moaned as though the violin itself made him orgasm.
“¡Su musicalidad es más hermoso que cualquier cosa que mis oídos han tenido!” Sazonito shouted to be heard over the violin. He groaned and bucked beneath Moshe’s hips, which slammed powerfully against his jiggling asscheeks. Moshe didn’t need to know Spanish to know that Sazonito was complimenting his plowing, or maybe demanding to be plowed harder.
Finally Moshe felt his orgasm coming on, just as he felt it running through Sazonito’s body as well. He thought he’d have to stop playing while he busted a nut, but his hands were on autopilot. He definitely lost the rhythm and played some notes incorrectly, but it was clear Sazonito didn’t notice — he didn’t even seem to recognize the song, though he reacted as though the sound itself caused his orgasm.
Cum sprayed into Sazonito’s ass, so thick and creamy that it clung to every corner of his insides. Moshe shuddered and shivered as he filled Sazonito up. The load was bigger than anything he had ever produced — Moshe rather wished he had pulled out so he could see how much it was. This was such an incredible experience that his body kept spurting more and more, like he was getting rid of reserves that his balls had been storing up.
As Moshe’s body twitched and he yelped, Sazonito barked; his massive muscles writhed. His pain was obvious, his humiliation apparent in his dim, dark eyes, but the overwhelming feeling that Moshe could read in every muscle in his body was arousal and fulfillment. He had genuinely wanted this.
Somehow in that moment, all language and cultural barriers between them dissolved. Moshe knew exactly why Sazonito was doing this, and it was precisely as he had explained. Moshe was just too set in his ways to realize it. Sazonito had ramrodded prison bitches, but just one was important to him, a girlish man who had been Sazonito’s lover when he was in jail; he had formed a serious relationship with that man. He had treated his bitch like a wife, and a part of him had always wondered how far their relationship could be taken. His prison bitch had probably treated him better than his girlfriends on the outside. They were friends and lovers and roommates, allies, confidantes and more, but the one thing they could never be was equals. Sazonito had wished he could have a real relationship as his sexual peak dwindled while he was locked up.
But in prison, big macho tops didn’t bottom for tiny twinks, not even behind closed doors and with makeshift curtains up to block the view. That was not a rule Sazonito could break. Not until he was out of prison and he had come to a place where no other vato would be, where nobody would know what taboos Sazonito was breaking.
The smell of cum filled the dressing room as Sazonito shot his own load, just as Moshe was finally finishing up. A few final jets of jizz spurted up Sazonito’s guts, creamy goop spreading to every corner of his insides and seeping into his inner being. From his vantage point Moshe couldn’t see, but he could experience every bit of Sazonito’s orgasm through the tight clenching of his ass and the low, rattling groan that escaped from Sazonito’s throat. Sazonito’s hands were claws that raked the ground.
Then at last it was all over.
Moshe pulled his cock out and smiled sheepishly as Sazonito sighed like he had been waiting for that exact moment — Moshe had taken enough big cocks to know what he was feeling. The stress relief of that moment was intense, and Sazonito’s moan of desire was an aching rumble that echoed in the tiny dressing room. Sazonito crumpled to the dirty floor of the dressing room, his big muscles limp, perhaps limper than they had been since he was with his beloved in a prison cell.
Moshe sat next to his prone body and gently rubbed his muscles. They twitched under Moshe’s grip. “Sazonito… do you want me to call you? When I am in town again?”
“Yes. Si.”
“Okay,” Moshe said. “I will. We can have whatever relationship you want, and I won’t tell anyone.”
Sazonito nodded. “And if anybody asks, you will tell them I was at your concert, esé? Tell them I was here early, that you saw me before the show and then you saw me during the show and after.” He paused, then narrowed his eyes to slits. “Do not tell them what we did after the show.”
Moshe nodded. “I will.”
“Good. Thank you. Nunca lo reemplazará.” Sazonito closed his eyes and gripped Moshe’s hand with his massive meaty fingers. Then Sazonito’s sweat-dappled back fell limp and soft, and he drifted off to sleep right there on Moshe’s dressing room floor.