MN Manmacker's mansploitation
Avery is working the front desk at the legendary Night Along motel when the hardcore pimp Darkie comes by, willing to give Avery a taste of his magnificent manhood. Can Avery service his needs well enough to earn the hard-fought approval of the utter alpha pimp Darkie?!
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Jay Bone is a pimp who only lets one man cut his hair… the twinky barber Desmond, who’s also willing to service every inch of Jay bone’s body. But Jay Bone has an interesting offer on Desmond’s birthday, cuz this alpha male pimp is willing to experience a twink on top!
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Desmond was glad to see Jay Bone come into his barbershop for two reasons. First of all, it had been a slow day and Desmond could use the tip — Jay Bone was a pimp, which meant he was very particular about who cut his hair. He only accepted Desmond. He was a good tipper, so Desmond was glad to cut his hair. The second reason Desmond was glad to see Jay Bone was that Jay Bone always gave Desmond a swing on his dick after his haircut. His delicious dick made Desmond’s mouth water, and Jay Bone had a powerful body brimming with muscle, along with a handsome face that made the girls come running.
Hence, he was a pimp. Desmond eagerly invited him to sit down in his barber’s chair with the same fervor all his bitches promised to please him.
Jay Bone strode in wearing his powder-blue suit with a pink tie and an azure fedora, like an old-school cabbie’s hat. He was dipping and dapping, walking to his own rhythm. He was tall and stately like a skyscraper, and he commanded attention like a white man with a clipboard. Everybody turned to look at his mug, he got a handsome face but an ugly nose, which somehow accentuated the handsomeness of his face.
Though everyone looked at him, conversation stopped when he entered and didn’t resume until he spoke. That was because he exuded authority like sweat and because he was a Crip. The Cityside Barbershop of Lawndale was not a gang-affiliated business, but it was in a Bloods neighborhood and everyone who worked there, including Desmond, was Bloods-affiliated.
Jay Bone came in all the time. It wasn’t forbidden for a Crip to come into a Bloods barbershop. But it did make all the niggas and homies in the waiting room shush their mugs and avoid looking at him. All except Desmond, in whose chair Jay Bone sat.
“How you doin’, Desmond-wit’-a-Geo? You got a new tattoo, huh, I ain’t seen that one?” Jay Bone always called Desmond Desmond-wit’-a-Geo because Desmond used to have a Chevy Geo, and he stopped to give Jay Bone a ride once. That car had been totaled in an accident two years ago, but Jay Bone was fixated on it — he was the kind of nigga who picked one fact about each person and repeated it often as though it showed that he cared about others. Of course, his inability to update that fact when it changed made him seem like he was incapable of caring about anyone other than himself.
But Desmond was willing to forgive him for all of his faults, as long as he got the chance to swing on that meat once in a while. “Yeah, I just got it a month ago-“
“You the man, Desmond, I only let you cut my hair, nigga. My hair’s too perfect to let any nigga touch it. You’s a fool if you let anyone but a sissy cut yo’ hair. Sissies and bitches, in that order, that’s who know how to cut hair,” he said. He paused thoughtfully. “And Italian men. I dunno what it is ’bout them, they can do it. You know any Italian barbers, Desmond-wit’-a-Geo?”
“No. Well, one, I think but he-” As usual, Jay Bone didn’t let Desmond get a word in. He always took over the conversation like this, asking questions without listening for an answer. He only spoke in monologues.
“Not in Baltimore, course. Them guidos is in Jersey and shit,” Jay Bone said. “We only got Pollacks here. You know about Pollacks? They’s like white people but retarded and uuuh-uuuugly!”
“Uh-huh.” Desmond just got started on the haircut, nodding along with Jay Bone. There was no point in trying to really talk to him. Conversation resumed in the rest of the shop. No one wanted to get on Jay Bone’s bad side, so everyone kept their voices lower than his.
“I got this new bitch, Desmond. You’d like her. She Spanish or some shit, half-Spanish, I think. Like Colombian. Is El Dorado a real place? She might be from El Dorado. She got a nice fat ass. Gonna get you over some time to get me off so she can see it though. She don’t suck a nigga dick worth a damn. Need a fuckin’ map and compass to find it and shit,” Jay Bone said as Desmond cut his hair and nodded along. “Got a mouth like a puppy’s water bowl. You know this nigga need more ‘an that!”
“Sounds like a doll.”
“Yeah, she got ass that don’t quit. She can learn about the blowjobs. That’s teachable. You can’t teach ass, that’s what I always say, nigga.”
“Yeah.”
“That shit is inborn, y’know. Reckon ya get that from yo’ mama. That’s prolly where sissy come from too. When yo’ mama bigger than yo’ daddy,” he said.
“My mom is tiny,” Desmond said. “She-“
“I mean big in spirit,” he said. He glowered at Desmond like he didn’t like to be contradicted.
“Oh, uh… yeah, I guess maybe.” Desmond wrinkled his nose. Jay Bone glared at him and Desmond didn’t want to antagonize him. “She got spirit.”
“Yup. That’s it,” he said as Desmond finished up the haircut. “You busy on Saturday? You can come over and jerk me off, show her how. Gonna have to be early though, she gotta work in the evening. She got a legion of johns and jimmies lookin’ to run up and down that snatch, and you know Jay Bone do provide!”
“Hmm… I’ve got, uh… not plans, exactly, uh… this weekend. It’s my birthday. Technically today, actually,” Desmond said. He was glad to have a subtle way to throw that in there because he thought Jay Bone would give him a bigger tip as a birthday present. It would be grubby to ask.
“Yo’ birthday is today?”
Desmond nodded. He took Jay Bone’s money and a satisfyingly generous tip, then smiled at him, gesturing towards the backroom. Jay Bone nodded and followed him that way. The other barbers and customers were visibly relieved that he was gone, and conversation became louder the moment the door to the backroom shut.
“Happy birthday, nigga.”
“Thanks.”
The back of the Cityside Barbershop was a dusty old storage area, with an office at the far end, next to the door leading to the alley behind the building. The owner — Johnny Cee — strictly forbade anyone from using the office when he wasn’t there, and he had told Desmond on numerous occasions not to use it to jerk niggas off.
But that was where Jay Bone went. That was where he always went. He knew Johnny Cee didn’t want him there, which was precisely why he did it. Johnny Cee didn’t get mad, and he didn’t blame Desmond for it. He knew nobody could tell Jay Bone no.
Not that Desmond wanted to tell him no. As Jay Bone pushed a stack of papers off the sturdy table in one corner of the room, Desmond admired the twisting of his muscles beneath that powder-blue suit. He had a big, broad body with a square jaw and rippling flesh, like a Hollywood-Hercules but dressed like a colorful pimp. When the table was clear he sighed as though having second thoughts about this.
Desmond sunk to his knees. “Is somethin’ wrong, sugar? Lemme show you what’s right…”
“Just thinkin’ some thoughts, lil queer,” Jay Bone said. Then he grunted and frowned at Desmond. “Gonna give you a birthday present, Desmond. You gonna enjoy, cuz of course you will. You game?”
“Uh… for what?” Desmond wondered if he was going to give weed, which Desmond would enjoy, or maybe cocaine, which Desmond would also enjoy but wished he wouldn’t offer. Desmond knew he wouldn’t turn it down though.
It was his birthday weekend, after all.
“Seven minutes, nigga. You get seven minutes in heaven, got it? That’s my birthday present to you. That’s seven birthday presents, really. You keep yo’ mouth shut about dis. You tell people you jerked me off,” he said. He took a deep breath. “But you can have yo’ way wit’ me fo’ seven minutes. I ain’t nevuh been wit’ a nigga… y’know, like that. I ain’t nevuh take dick in the ass. I gave a nigga head once in the joint. Nasty. Don’t tell no one that neither, or I’ll shove yo’ dick down yo’ throat. You gonna love this! Jay Bone got a killer body, all over, dick, ass, balls, shit, his toes is worth a million bucks apiece. Know dat!”
“Wait, so…?”
He scowled and furrowed his eyebrows. “You got seven minutes. You can make me do anything you want fo’ seven minutes. You can plow my ass, make me swallow yo’ dick, whatever you want. Jay Bone is a full-service kinda nigga, y’know. I would give you seven minutes wit’ one of my bitches, but I know you wouldn’t know what to do wit’ ’em,” he said. “My bitches needta be treated propuh! Proper as pandas!” He took out his cell phone and set up the timer.
“Ain’t you gonna take off your clothes?”
“Nah, nigga. That’s part of yo’ seven minutes,” Jay Bone said with a mean grin.
His mind raced. Desmond hurriedly took off his own clothes before Jay Bone was ready with the timer. He blushed, certain he looked like a drooling idiot. But he was glad to have the chance to plow Jay Bone — there was no way anyone would ever believe him anyway, so Desmond had intention of telling anyone.
“Yo’ time starts… now,” Jay Bone said. He put his phone down. This was all happening so fast that Desmond had trouble adjusting. He had a feeling that was part of Jay Bone’s plan — by flummoxing Desmond, he could still give this “present” without giving Desmond the chance to take full advantage of it like he might be able to if he had known this was going to happen.
“Uh… okay, you gotta get down on yo’ knees,” Desmond said, his voice wavering. He wasn’t used to telling alpha males what to do, and this situation felt especially awkward because Jay Bone was more than a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier than Desmond. Every fiber of Desmond’s being told him to get down on his knees instead. He was the thin twink, so that’s the position he felt he was “supposed” to be in. Topping Jay Bone felt like a transgression, Desmond thought, whose nervous voice repeated his request, “Get down on yo’ knees, nigga.”
Jay Bone did so. Even on his knees he was much to tall to jerk Desmond’s dick. He had to stoop down even lower than that. He inhaled deeply of Desmond’s dick as though he enjoyed the scent, though when he looked back he wrinkled his nose.
“You smell like coconut, nigga,” he said, over-enunciating like he either hated coconut or loved it. Before Desmond could ask which, pangs of pleasure shot up his body as Jay Bone swallowed his dick. His mouth encircled Desmond’s shaft.
He didn’t do this like someone who had only ever done it once, in prison, Desmond thought. He wasn’t about to say that though, that was a sure way to raise Jay Bone’s massive ire.
The sensation wracking his body was incredible, made all the more intense by the awkwardity of the situation — Jay Bone’s fumbling tongue, his hesitant movements, his scratchy scruffy chin rubbing against Desmond’s flesh. Desmond rumbled and moaned so loud it was audible in the frontroom of the barbershop.
“Yo, Desmond havin’ a good time! Jay Bone must be feedin’ him all kind of birthday meat!”
“Nigga frontin’-!”
“Sit’cha ass down!”
“Jay Bone doin’ it right, Desmond?!”
They wouldn’t be teasing Jay Bone if there was some chance Jay Bone recognized their voices. The men in the front room laughed in a mixture of bravado and anxiety. Though most of them let Desmond jerk them off from time to time, they all tried to keep it more discrete than Jay Bone did. None of them would ever even think about jerking Desmond off instead.
But Jay Bone was doing it, and he wasn’t even hesitant or reluctant. He did it like he knew what he was doing and enjoyed it. He deep-throated Desmond to the root, and he snuck his tongue out to lick Desmond’s shaft, making Desmond shift his weight between his feet and suck on his breath.
“Goddamn, Jay Bone… Holy fuck… who taught you how to do this?” Desmond’s hands clutched Jay Bone’s head, upon which was still balanced his blue fedora. It was much darker than his suit, and Desmond worried he would leave fingerpints on it — no doubt resulting in Jay Bone admonishing him and making him pay to have it drycleaned — so Desmond let go of it right away.
Spit dripped in great gobs down Desmond’s shaft. Jay Bone’s mouth was loud and moist, exactly the way Desmond loved it. He bucked his hips to help Jay Bone swallow every inch of his meat, snaking his dick down Jay Bone’s tight throat.
Desmond was deeply aware of the time ticking away. He saw the timer on Jay Bone’s cell phone display, sitting on the desk in the center of the office. Desmond reached down to undo Jay Bone’s pink tie and take his jacket off.
It was awkward, to say the least. Jay Bone made no effort to make it easy for Desmond, though he didn’t go out of his way to make it difficult. Desmond’s fingers fumbled as he strained to reach Jay Bone’s shirt-buttons, but he eventually managed to get it unbuttoned and off.
Then he shuddered. His knees went weak. His hard cock spasmed, and for the first time, Jay Bone let out an intense moan, making a sound for the first time. It wasn’t clear if it was a moan of disgust or delight now that he tasted precum. It was hot and creamy, and Desmond felt it spewing out into Jay Bone’s mouth.
The precum flowed down his throat. Desmond had never felt himself emit so much, but this was such an awe-inspiring situation that he couldn’t stop himself. The precum was voluminous and thick, and it coated Jay Bone’s tongue.
Desmond gasped and threw his head back. His mind said to move on to anal. He only had five and a half minutes left — had it really only been a minute and a half? But it was tough to tear his cock away from such unimaginable bliss inside Jay Bone’s mouth.
“Okay, uh, take off your pants,” Desmond said. His voice sounded impossibly weak and tinny in the cramped office. Jay Bone sighed and growled. Desmond felt a surge of fear as Jay Bone pulled off and stood, like he might be about to attack Desmond. “I mean… if you want to…”
“It’s yo’ birthday, nigga. I do whatevuh you want,” he said with a grin. “I wanna see why my bitches complain so much about gettin’ stuck in the ass. You got a big dick?”
“Uh… It’s pretty big,” Desmond said. He blushed.
Jay Bone knelt against the table, but again, he was much too tall for that to work. Desmond chuckled and smacked his cheeks to tell him to get down lower. “You’re bending over like I do,” Desmond said. “But I’m shorter than you. We can’t just reverse positions and expect that to work.”
“Alright, lil queer, I get it, I’s pickin’ up what you puttin’ down,” Jay Bone said. He sunk all the way to the ground on his knees, crouched over. He dropped his powder-blue slacks and the silk boxers he always wore, revealing a perfectly plump, smooth brown ass. He sighed and shook his head.
“There you go, that’s good, nigga,” Desmond said. He tried to sound like a deep-voiced thug, like Jay Bone, but that only accentuated how flamboyant and effeminate his actual voice was. Both he and Jay Bone laughed.
Desmond’s instincts said to dive in head-first and lick his ass — Desmond loved giving Jay Bone a rimjob on those rare occasions when he allowed it (he always said he saved rimjobs so he could make his hos do it as punishment, he didn’t want to cheapen it). Besides that, this was a special occasion and Desmond didn’t want to waste it doing something he could talk Jay Bone into anytime. So Desmond grabbed the bottle of lube he kept around for emergencies and got started.
When he saw that there were just barely four minutes left, Desmond got excited. He slathered half a tube of lube on his cock just because he was in too much of a hurry to measure out a smaller amount. The goopy lube dripped onto the floor.
“Damn, calm down, Desmond,” Jay Bone said with a nervous chuckle.
Desmond blushed. “Sorry. You put a time limit on this, I gotta hurry,” he said, and his plaintive tone made Jay Bone laugh again. It was a deep, cocky barrel-laugh, which the men in the frontroom apparently interpreted as some sort of victorious alpha male grunt, and they all hooted and clapped.
Desmond rammed his dick in, and Jay Bone let out a loud, pained growl — which he turned partway through into a grunt, seemingly putting on a show for the folks in the frontroom. Again, they must have heard because they clapped and cheered Desmond on. They all assumed Desmond was bottoming, jerking Jay Bone off or even taking it in the ass. Nobody would have ever even made a joke about Jay Bone bottoming instead.
“Sorry, sorry,” Desmond said. “I didn’t meant to make it hurt.”
“That’s alright. My bitches is whinin’ like hell. You got substantial meat, nigga, and it ain’t that… bad,” he winced on that last word, and twisted his body as Desmond ground his dick into Daddy’s Rico’s ass.
Desmond couldn’t help but giggle. It looked like Jay Bone now understood why his hos complained about getting rammed in the ass. He grunted and his chest heaved.
“You’re loosenin’ up, nigga, it’ll get easier,” Desmond said. He patted Jay Bone on the arm and shuddered. Normally Jay Bone was so strict about touching. He didn’t let Desmond touch most of his body, no grabbing his ass, no tweaking his nipples under the shirt, and no kissing. So Desmond had never really gotten an opportunity to feel those incredible muscles.
The nicest thing about Jay Bone’s body, Desmond thought, was that it wasn’t perfect. He didn’t have a six-pack, though he came close. He had a big thick body, bulging in all the right places, brimming with power, swagger and strength. If he had time, Desmond would have gladly licked him from head to toe like a cat cleaning its kitten.
Then, like a switch had been flicked, Jay Bone changed. His pained grunting changed to an aroused moan, and Desmond could tell even though he couldn’t see that Jay Bone had gotten hard. He smiled. Obviously, he thought, he had discovered the location of Jay Bone’s prostate.
Desmond reached around him and grabbed ahold of his dick. “This is called a reacharound,” Desmond said. “It’s polite to give a reacharound when you plow a nigga in the ass-“
“I ain’t nevuh doin’ that, lil queer. You can stop bringin’ that up right now,” Jay Bone said. “But you go ahead. I like that.” He shook his head and whinnied like a horse, as though he was surprised — and maybe a bit frightened — by how much he enjoyed getting it up behind.
Now that Desmond had found Jay Bone’s prostate, he knew how to make it feel good.
He had never before topped with a man so much bigger than himself, and it was a nice change of pace, even if the positioning was awkward and difficult. The more he rammed back and forth and the more passionately Jay Bone reacted, the more Desmond struggled to hold back his climax.
By the time he felt his orgasm rising, Desmond was on his toes, using both hands to grip Jay Bone’s back and slam his hips down over and over. Luckily he had used so much lube — and Jay Bone was simply a big man — that Desmond slid easily in and out of Jay Bone’s tight ass.
“Damn, nigga, damn damn damn…”
Much to Desmond’s surprise, his own orgasm was interrupted by Jay Bone himself shooting his load. He gave little indication beforehand, as though he was just as shocked as Desmond was. All of a sudden Jay Bone’s cock throbbed and spasmed in Desmond’s hand, and cum sprayed over Desmond’s fingers. It landed in a big creamy clump on the floor.
But still he kept cumming. His massive body bucked and writhed beneath Desmond’s grasp, until eventually Desmond wasn’t on the ground at all. He was born aloft by Jay Bone’s broad back, to which Desmond held on for dear life, grinding his cock into Jay Bone as the seconds tumbled away on the timer.
“Can you turn your head and kiss me?” Desmond asked, his voice low and breathless. His climax bubbled just under the surface.
Jay Bone smiled and did so. Again, it was awkward — he had to strain his head back, and Desmond had to crawl up his shoulders to reach. But he first gave Jay Bone his hand, which dripped with Jay Bone’s own cum.
He gave no hint of hesitation before grabbing Desmond’s wrist with his big meaty hand, and sucking up every drop of his own cum of Desmond’s fingers. He bucked and writhed as though he was both disgusted and aroused by the flavor, and he slurped on Desmond’s hand like he tried to drain it of juices.
“Fifteen seconds left, nigga,” Jay Bone said, his voice tense like he was eager for it to be over. He sighed as he licked the last of his own cum off Desmond’s fingers.
Then he kissed Desmond without a moment’s hesitation. The taste of cum flooded Desmond’s mouth, the smear of semen all over Jay Bone’s face colliding with the sweat that dripped down Desmond’s cheeks. Desmond had never kissed anyone like that.
At last Desmond’s own body erupted in orgasm. “Ah, fuckin’ hell!” he roared as cum sprayed into Jay Bone’s broad ass.
The orgasm lasted for what felt like forever, though judging from the timer, it was more like thirty seconds. The timer went off near the end as Desmond shuddered. The beeping was impossibly loud, resonating in Desmond’s ears as he filled Jay Bone with his load.
“Shit yeah…” Jay Bone muttered. Desmond could do little more than bark and yelp into Jay Bone’s tattooed back.
The most unimaginable pleasure in his life wracked Desmond’s body. He dug his nails into Jay Bone’s meaty muscles, and he licked all the sweat off where it collected between the man’s broad shoulderblades. He writhed there, precariously balance on Jay Bone, for what felt like forever.
His thin twink limbs contorted, and he dug into Jay Bone’s body. Jay Bone just smiled wryly, rolling his eyes as Desmond’s dick jabbed into him over and over. It was a big, thick and creamy load, which dripped out of Jay Bone’s ass and onto the floor between his trunk-like thighs. It clung to his skin and the hair of his crotch.
“Alright, nigga, you done,” Jay Bone said. He flicked the timer off. “Was that seven minutes in heaven?”
“It certainly was.”
Jay Bone let out a long chest-rattling moan. He glared at Desmond like he was mad at him. “You said you was busy on Saturday, right? What about Sunday?”
“Yeah, I’m free.”
“Good. I’m gonna throat you so hard yo’ mama gags,” he said. He bristled and straightened his back like he wanted to recapture his swaggerous mojo now that he had taken dick in the ass. “You can show my new ho how to take it right.”
“Okay,” Desmond said. He was too tired to think about it now, but he thought he would enjoy that.
“I ain’t gonna have no mercy, Desmond, this nigga can ball!” he said, adding an inscrutable hand gesture that involved snapping his fingers. “You know how I do. I plow hard. Know dat!”
“Yeah,” Desmond said with a grin. “You taught me well.”
Rob loves raunchy men, so when he goes to the docks, it’s time to worship the sweat-soaked filth of a Greek sailor’s unwashed armpits! Can Rob handle the raunch?
Read it soon as an ebook!
Read the whole thing here!
“Swallow your cum. Swallow your cum.” Rob stood dockside as men streamed off the S.S. Admiral Smikovsk. They were a diverse group of men: Jamaicans, Brazilians, Greeks, Filipinos, Nigerians, Nicaraguans, probably more, but Rob most expected those nationalities based on his inspection of the ship’s manifest. They were deliciously filthy, with blackish smudges of soot and coal on their skin, unwashed beards from weeks at sea, most of them with half-hardons from the moment they walked off the ship.
The reason most of them had hardons was the same reason Rob found it difficult to get the men he wanted — they were macho, and there were women galore.
“Swallow your cum. Swallow your cum. Swallow your cum. Eat your ass.” Rob made eye contact with as many of them as he could. They mostly winced and looked away.
“Hey. Hey, whatcha doin’?” said a stout man with a colorful hat and a dour disposition. Rob didn’t need to be an expert to identify him as a pimp. The pimp scowled at him. “You bein’ a distraction, boy.” He sucked on his teeth. His New Jersey stawk was thick and cloying, like he spoke through a layer of engine oil. “My girls is busy, y’know, ya feel me, boy? They lookin’ for a man. That’s all. They need a date for tonight, and maybe tomorrow night too. Ya feel me, boy? I bet you do.”
“Uh-huh,” Rob said. “Nobody’s taken me up on it, so I don’t think I’ve stolen any of your clients-“
“What’d I just fuckin’ say? Huh? Did I say you was distracting they clients? That ain’t even… They don’t see clients, okay, they are serious ladies, doing serious things… with their boyfriends, understand me? They’s out here looking for boyfriends, and sometimes, they just might find one. Ain’t nothin’ improper goin’ on here. What I accused you of, however, that’s improper — I said you was bein’ distracting. Girls is distracted real easy. It’s them tits, it keeps ’em from gettin’ focused. That’s why men with big chests is dumbasses too, and that’s a fact. I know you ain’t gonna steal none of my girls’s boyfriend. That’s on account of these men don’t cotton to perverts, and my girls know how to satisfy a man. Ya understand me?”
“Uh-huh. I see your point,” Rob said.
“You wanna work for me? I can help you find dick,” the pimp said with a frown like he really hoped Rob would say no.
“No, thank you. I’m very good at that already.”
“Thank god,” the pimp said. “Look, you had best get the fuck off my dock. My girls work here-“
“But I’m not stealing your business-“
“You is stealin’ my girls’s hearts! They ain’t gonna be so eager to find new boyfriends when they see you offerin’ to get on ya knees for nothin’. It’s discouraging to my girls’s capitalistic spirit, ya feel me?”
“I guess…” Rob gulped. This pimp scared him. Rob mumbled an apology and walked away. He entered the crowd of men walking away from the dock. The lanky Latino walking past him had a visible hardon bulging against the fabric of his sailor’s bellbottoms. He popped the low collar of his shirt. The Latino was already touching his dick through his pants as he approached the rather trashy women calling for him on land.
“Swallow your cum?” Rob said, but the Latino completely ignored him. He took his dick out, said something in Spanish and disappeared among the prostitutes. His cock hung free as he raced to take out the wad of cash in his pocket. Rob watched it dangle and twitch, getting hard, the foreskin slowly retracting as the Latino stroked it.
The docks were amazing. Rob didn’t want to leave without seeing the docks, and to bathe in the glorious hunks who filled it with their muscles and swagger and massive cocks. Men had poured out of the ship, hardons already evident — they knew there were girls waiting for them. The girls smiled and cooed, and blushed bashfully when the men kissed them and took out their cocks.
“Go’n, hoss!”
“Do it, Lyle!”
“Lyle, Lyle, Lyle!”
Lyle turned out to be a rather skinny young farmlad in an ill-fitting sailor’s uniform — obviously new to the merchant marine — who approached Rob with a nervous tremble. He gulped and went pale, fingers trembling as he let his massive dick flop out. He lowered his bellbottoms just enough to bare his crotch as he looked away, watching his friends instead of Rob.
His friends laughed so hard Rob couldn’t tell what was going on. Obviously this was some sort of joke or prank, or a hazing episode. Rob touched Lyle’s cock, which twitched beneath his fingers, and then Lyle went running back to his buddies with his eyes opened wide.
“He did it!”
“You squeamish pansy! It’s just a goddamn finger!”
One of the older sailors with Lyle looked at Rob. “Go to prison, pervert! You’ll find plenty of men there.” Then they all walked away. Lyle’s cheeks were bright red. His friends clasped him on the back, and one of them even grabbed Lyle’s cock as a joke, making them all laugh.
Rob was left alone. The S.S. Admiral Smikovsk was empty of people now, presumably. Rob watched the prostitutes pair off (in some cases in larger ratios than pairs). It seemed so far that this dock was more difficult than he had thought.
It had seemed easy. Sailors loved to get a load off and needed money and weren’t usually too squeamish about man-on-man contact. That was perfect.
But those prostitutes… it was hard to get a man to swing downlow with a gaggle of beautiful women beckoning. Or at least somewhat attractive women, Rob thought, whose lack of attractiveness was equivalent to their willingness to fuck. He sighed and decided to go back to his hotel. It was run-down and nasty, crawling with trashy man who, Rob suspected, would be willing to let him swing on their meat for a little consideration. However, Rob didn’t want that. He was here to get a taste of a raunchy sailor. What was the point of visiting a port city if not to jerk off some sailors?
Maybe, he thought, he should find a bar frequented by sailors. Whoever was unable or unwilling to find/pay a female would still be there late at night, and Rob might be able to get a taste of sailor meat then. Of course they’d be drunk, which was disappointing — Rob preferred his men fully conscious.
He turned around, but then stopped because he heard shouting from onboard the ship. The only word he could hear clearly was fuck, but there were definitely other insults, some of which were not in English.
Then two men were visible, and Rob’s knees went weak. One of them — presumably the captain — was a stout older man with an unappealing beard. Rob ignored him and zeroed in on the second man.
He was Nikos — Rob got that from the shouting — and he was the strongest sailor Rob had seen yet. He was tall and broad-shouldered, Greek with swarthy skin the color of toasted grain and an intensely hooked nose, a square jaw like a warrior, and so much body hair his sailor’s uniform barely fit. The fur poked out the wide collar. He was muscular but not big, and he walked with a heavy gait, like his boots were cast-iron.
He was utterly filthy. Rob had no idea why, but would soon learn that Nikos had snuck a rather large amount of alcohol onboard at the last port, and had been selling it at rather exorbitant prices to the other sailors. He had been punished by being sent to shovel coal for the last few days, and at such a feverish work-schedule that he didn’t bathe during that time.
So his clothes were plastered to his skin with sweat, and smudges of black coal dust and soot splattered over and stained much of his face. His clothes appeared to be more clean of coal — presumably he had dug coal naked, or at least in different clothes than these, but wearing them over his foul body had soaked them in sweat and dirt.
“You no-good pissant! When you come back, I’ll search you so good I will tickle your tonsils from behind! If you ever try to sneak that shit on my ship again, I swear to Christ, Nikos-!”
That was all Rob heard because Nikos turned around and exploded in anger as well. He shouted in Greek, fingers running through his dense, tangled mat of black curls. He made some sort of rude gesture that Rob didn’t understand. It wasn’t clear who he shouted at, as the port crawled with sailors, laughing, pointing, shouting at each other. Nikos must have been talking to one of them.
Eventually Nikos made it to the dock, away from the ship and his captain amd whoever he was arguing with a moment ago. He scowled, but he didn’t seem to notice Rob at all. He turned around and made that gesture again, which raised his arms and bared his armpits just inches from Rob’s face — Nikos still hadn’t noticed Rob because he was focused on his argument — sending a wave of intensely acrid sweat over Rob’s nostrils. It was funky and wild, and it made Rob’s heart skip a beat.
That gave Rob an idea. He hadn’t given much thought to what he wanted to do with his sailors — usually he had to let his men choose what they were comfortable with, since many wouldn’t go as far as Rob wanted.
But those armpits were incredible. He was so hairy Rob drooled to look at him. That bushy beard, and the dense growth of armpit hair that looked like a whole nother crotch. Rob giggled, eyes mesmerized by the sight of Nikos’s arm-bush, nose wrinkling at the waves of stale, fetish man-scent that assaulted his nostrils.
“Suck your armpits. Suck your armpits.” Rob’s dick stiffened as Nikos’s greasy body wafted his stink over Rob’s face. “Suck your armpits. I’ll suck your armpits, lick all that sweat up. I’ll worship your armpits.”
But Nikos just muttered to himself in Greek, paying no mind to the small, lithe man talking about armpits next to him. He took a wallet out of his pocket, then a coin-purse. He counted his change. He had very little weekend. He wasn’t getting paid today — he had leave for the weekend, but the captain had refused to pay him due to his continued disobedience. That’s what he was shouting about when he caught Rob’s attention.
He gulped. He barely had enough to buy a meal tonight. He certainly wouldn’t be able to get drunk or hire a prostitute. He could rob someone, he thought, he sometimes did that — he wasn’t a bad man, and he’d never hurt anyone, but he did sometimes rob rich people to fund his lifestyle.
“Lick your armpits. Hey, uh, man? I’ll lick your armpits for twenty bucks. I’ll give you twenty bucks to let me go at your armpits-“
Finally Nikos turned around and realized Rob was speaking to him. It took him a moment to process what Rob had said. Then he furrowed his brow.
“I’ll give you two hundred dollars,” Rob said. He pulled out a stack of twenty-dollar bills — that was enough by far to get drunk, eat a fine meal, fuck a woman — possibly not even a prostitute — and pay for a hotel room by himself. He dangled it in front of Nikos’s face.
Nikos’s eyes opened wide. “What?” He had a noticeable Greek accent, but it wasn’t real heavy. He had been speaking English since he was a boy. He had learned it from a Brit though, so some of his words were tinged with an upper-class British accent.
“I want to lick your armpits, suck them all over, drink all your sweat,” Rob said. He came closer. “Please? Let me lick your pits.”
“Lick my armpits? Why? What does that mean?”
“It means…. Exactly what it sounds like. I want to lick your armpits. I’m into pit worship,” Rob said. He blushed a little at Nikos’s harsh glare. Of course pit worship was not a known thing to most men, so Nikos had to deduce what it meant. He still assumed he had missed something, but he didn’t want to look like a fool by asking again.
Nikos nodded. He looked around to make sure no one was nearby who knew him. Nobody seemed to be paying much attention anyway — sailors went straight for the girls and ignored pretty much everything else. Virtually no one had even yet clocked Rob’s existence. Nikos tried to grab the money from Rob, but Rob tucked it back away in his pocket.
“I will need the money to rent a hotel room,” Nikos said. “So I can shower. Then I will… I will let you do what you wish.”
Rob shook his head. “You have completely misjudged the point of pit worship. Let’s go, I know a spot.”
“What do you mean? Misjudged how? What is pit worship?”
“I already said,” Rob said with a laugh. “It’s licking your armpits. Like, a lot. You misjudged because you thought I wanted you to shower first. That ruins the whole thing. There’s no point in you showering first. I might as well lick a bar of soap. I want to suck your armpits.”
Nikos frowned like he was confused. His English was good, but he assumed he was missing something. “I will not… You may not put your… manhood, uh… in my armpit.”
Rob rolled his eyes, having difficulty controlling not laughing at Nikos. “That’s not my intent. Neat idea, but not my plan. Maybe somebody else, some other time.” He led Nikos into an alley near the beach, where there was a little concealed area behind a mound of trash in the back of the alley.
Nikos wrinkled his nose. “I feel dirty already, I am very sweaty and you will not enjoy my body odor-“
“Oh my god, Nikos, you still don’t get it. How did your people invent democracy? Okay, stop talking, you’re making me even hornier,” Rob said. “I’m gonna blow my wad early.” As soon as they were both behind the mound of trash, Rob dove his face into Nikos’s chest. He had that sailor’s shirt with the very open collar, so Rob could get right into the greasy valley between Nikos’s pecs, which were especially firm right now because he had been using them for days to shovel coal. Nikos’s eyes opened wide.
To Nikos, doing anything like this when he was sober was a new experience. He had been raised to believe it was only an ex-con would ramrod a man knowingly, but in the merchant marine that qualifier — knowingly — had evolved to the point that it barely seemed to matter. As long as the sailor could pretend he thought it was a woman, it wasn’t “knowingly sinful” and therefore didn’t count.
A lot of times, ships had one or two sailors who would put on fishnet stockings and spray on some perfume, and everybody would pretend to think they were a real woman. Nikos did that too. Pretending made it feel more real, and he could ramrod those men for hours fooling himself that he was making love to a woman.
But he was sober now and couldn’t pretend to be confused, and there was a chance he could fuck a real woman. Rob wasn’t even bothering to dress like a lady or wear a wig, or even any perfume. Nikos stood there like a statue because he didn’t want to give the impression that he was becoming aroused and because he still wasn’t sure what Rob was doing or what he expecte from Nikos.
“I will need a woman to get hard. Or at least you will need to act like a woman,” Nikos said with an embarrassed grunt as Rob pulled his bellbottoms down. His trunk-like thighs were covered in dense, coarse black hairs, matted to his skin with sweat. Rob licked a trail from his thighs up his chest — lifting his shirt up over his body — and sucking down all the sweat he could get to. He was surprised and elated to see Nikos didn’t wear any underwear, his dick just flopped freely out, uncut and gleaming.
The scent of his unwashed crotch was acrid and intense, and it brought tears to Rob’s eyes. He gave Nikos’s dick a stroke, just to get him started. It throbbed in his hand. It was hot and clammy, unwashed for days, maybe more than a week. Nikos furrowed his brow like he only just now understood what was happening.
“How long will this take? I can’t spend all evening-“
“Relax, just gimme… an hour. Less than an hour, probably,” Rob said. “Lift your arms.” He nuzzled Nikos’s armpit with his arms tightly at his side, then he lifted them and the fragrantly fruity scent of his rancid armpits hit Rob’s nostrils.
“Ah…. That is nasty. You’re just licking my armpit. What… is that?” Nikos said, furrowing his brow as he watched. He was surprised to learn that Rob had been entirely literal about licking his pits.
It was somewhat ticklish, but Nikos at first didn’t think much of it. It was an awkward situation, standing with another man in a disgusting alley, worrying that someone might come around the corner anytime. He kept looking up to be sure no windows aimed down here on this side of the trash.
But it wasn’t unpleasant. Nikos’s dick wouldn’t get hard like this — which was fine with Rob, since he would rather drag this out — yet it did throb a bit beneath Rob’s touch. Rob even dropped his own pants and let his dick joust with Nikos’s as he slathered spit all over Nikos’s armpit. He slurped down every drop of sweat, and he sucked on every one of the fine hairs of Nikos’s armpits.
Saliva dripped down his powerful chest, matting his body hair to his skin. Nikos still tried not to think about it. Looking at it was gross because Nikos didn’t want to think about what that would taste like. It was probably so moist with sweat, he thought, and gritty with salt, and bitter from the coal dust. Watching Rob’s tongue made Nikos’s tongue taste it too, so he looked away.
Rob moaned. His own cock leaked precum over Nikos’s shaft. Nikos ignored it — he and his fellow Greek sailors thought little of touching dicks when they shared a prostitute, so letting Rob joust with him didn’t feel so strange. He was not squeamish, after all. He sighed.
Was this really going to take an hour? An hour of his armpit being licked? Nikos sighed again, even louder, and rolled his eyes as Rob switched to his other freshly-funky armpit.
Still, for two hundred dollars, Nikos could spend an hour.
The taste was potent and pure stank all over again. Rob moaned, his voice breaking, his whole body cringing. Precum flowed freely over Nikos’s shaft now, which gleamed, sticky and creamy. Nikos was almost hard now.
And then, like a switch being flicked, it felt good.
Nikos’s grunted and moaned. His knees went weak, and for a moment, Rob supported him with his hands on Nikos’s dick. His heavy, sweat-slickened body rubbed against Rob, who could never have held him up for more than a few seconds. Nikos leaned against the brick wall.
He threw his head back and moaned. He couldn’t believe that his armpits felt good. It was his dick that really sent waves of pleasure through his body, but it was Rob’s tongue snaking back and forth between both armpits that made that pleasure grow, giving him an erection that throbbed against Rob’s own hardon.
Both men’s precum flowed over their shafts, lubricating Rob’s hands, which both rubbed up and down in sync with Rob’s tongue flickering over the moist valley of Nikos’s armpits. His biceps were huge and firm, flexed hard as brick now.
“Ah, goddamn, I’m going to-” Nikos bit his lip, and his whole muscled body shook as he orgasmed. It looked so intense it hurt. His knees buckled again, but he leaned against the wall for support instead of relying on Rob.
Rob dropped to his knees, kneeling among the spilled trash bags. He hurried to lower his head and let both of Nikos’s heavy, sour balls plop into his open mouth.
He kept both hands on Nikos’s shaft, which was already throbbing and beginning to spray his first wad of cum when his sac slipped into Rob’s mouth. Having not showered in days, his balls stank powerfully, the sweat dripping in rivers down Rob’s throat. Even though Rob loved mansweat of any kind and in any quantity, this was enough to make him gag and choke.
It certainly didn’t stop him though. His tongue snaked out to Nikos’s nasty taint as cum sprayed up. Rob jacked his cock off with both hands, giggling at the feel of his balls rising up in his sac. Rob could sense the cum coursing up his sac as wad after wad shot straight up.
“Ah, damn…” Nikos grunted. “Nai, afto efnai kalo…” He repeated that a few times — Rob didn’t know Greek, and he was too involved in suckling Nikos’s sweaty ballsac to ask.
Some of it coated Nikos’s chest, matting his fur to his skin, but much of it just dripped right back down on Nikos’s shaft or on Rob’s face. Nikos shuddered and shook. He was surprised at how good it felt, since after all, it was “technically speaking”, just a handjob. His dick hadn’t even gotten wet.
But Rob gave surprisingly expert handjobs, and Nikos he shot a massive load that coated Rob’s face and Nikos’s dick, where it dripped down onto Rob’s body. Then Rob licked a trail up from Nikos’s nasty balls — which now just smelled of saliva — back to his shaft. Rob sucked down every drop of sour-sweet cum there, the saltiness bringing tears to his eyes. He loudly slurped on the mess of fluids on Nikos’s cockshaft, and the sensation of Rob’s mouth on his sensitive knob made Nikos gasp, muscles rippling, as he stood up on his toes.
At last, he was done, Rob’s own load congealing warmly on the trashy pavement. Rob sat back and plopped his ass on the garbage. He lazily reached up to stroke Nikos’s limp dick, making Nikos’s hairy body tremble with post-orgasmic bliss. His brown skin had already gleamed with sweat, but now much of it was covered in either semen or spit or both, so he was positively shimmery.
Nikos suddenly felt cold and dirty. He really wanted to take a shower, and he was annoyed that he hadn’t been able to before leaving the ship. He let out a menacing growl when he realized Rob hadn’t paid him yet. Rob hurried to hand over the money, the full two hundred dollars, which he counted out in twenty-dollar bills in Nikos’s hand.
“Have fun this weekend,” Rob said. “When you find a prostitute, you should pay extra to fuck her in the ass.”
“Why?”
Rob shrugged like the answer should have been obvious. “Because it’s awesome.” He laughed. “Or so I’ve been told, I don’t know much about women.”
Nikos grunted and put his clothes on. Now that he had his money, all he could really think about was getting away from Rob before he blew his reputation. That and he still desperately needed a shower. He walked away, ignoring Rob’s eyes aimed at his ass.
Rob smiled and sighed. He leaned back in the garbage. Had he had his fill of sailor meat? He thought so. But it was just armpits, there were more sailors and more body parts, and Rob was ready to track down every single one.
Avery is at a bachelor party when the others guys all go off with a ho. He’s not interested, but the pimp Slim Jay has something for everyone… even when that something is an anatomically gifted alpha male gangsta willing to bend over and let this twink climb on top!
Can Avery find satisfaction from Slim Jay’s diverse stable?
Read the whole thing here!
Avery was embarrassed for himself because he assumed Slim Jay was a mugger at first. Luckily he didn’t respond based on that assumption, so no one knew what he thought.
He and the rest of Jinky’s bachelor party had stumbled out of Lipsweet, a strip club in Lawndale, Chicago. They were all in high spirits, even Avery who thought he’d hate that part of the evening. He was not into strippers. It was fun enough though, and the other partygoers bought Avery a bunch of drinks. That was good, because cash was strapped right now.
The fresh air was cold and invigorating, but it came with a brisk wind that soon made it uncomfortable. Avery did not like the Chicago weather. It was only October, and it already felt like February. The men he was partying with, including the soon-to-be groom Jinky, were drunk, most of them drunker than Avery. They were loud and rambunctious. That soon dwindled though, once they were out of the strip club.
When they made it around the corner, Slim Jay was waiting. He shook hands with Jinky, while Avery reached for his wallet before realizing that this was not a mugging.
Slim Jay was a pimp. He had dark brown skin, a clean-shaven chin beneath his handsome face, which was marred by a scar — which looked recent — that stretched almost to one eye, like someone had attempted to gouge out his eye. He wore a violet suit and a yellow tie, with a purple hat and white belt, and somehow the clashing colors all worked on his muscular frame. He was flanked by a bevy of beautiful women in slutty clothes.
“Alright, gentlemen,” he said. “Step right up and pick the female of yo’ choosing. It’s all been paid for. Y’all got the bachelor party package. Congrats to the lucky groom. You pick first.” He nodded to Jinky.
The guys all jostled, confused at first, then excited. The best man had paid for this, that was why he was making smirky comments about “not nutting in your pants before the afterparty” all night. What was even the point of all the lapdances then? Avery rolled his eyes. They could have seen a show or gone to a nice restaurant and still fucked these cheap-ass whores all night. Or for an hour or two, since Avery doubted that these women were paid enough to spend a whole night with every man here.
Well, every man minus one. Avery didn’t intend to do it.
The others all paired off with a girl, and they headed in giggley pairs to a cheap motel across the street, the Top Inn. Jinky himself went first and got two beautiful girls, the two cleanest-looking ones in the group. That was apparently part of the ‘bachelor party package’ that the pimp had offered.
Awkward and nervous, Avery hung around until the end. It seemed they were all so excited to get laid after hours of being blue-balled in the strip club that none of Avery’s friends noticed he was left last. Finally there were only two girls left, one rather fat and the other horse-faced, which was presumably why they had been last to be chosen.
“Well? Pick one, honky,” Slim Jay said when Avery was the only one left. “I ain’t got all night.”
“Oh, uh… No, thanks. I’m uh…” Avery blushed. “No, thank you.”
“He don’t wanna, Slim Jay,” said the fat one with a chuckle. “Ain’t you see that? He got a wrist limp as a dead snake, and-“
“Shut up, Bethlyn,,” Slim Jay said. He peered closely at Avery.
“No offense, it’s just not my thing. I don’t sleep with prostitutes. I’m not even… I didn’t even get any lapdances in there. Well, one, but that wasn’t my choice,” Avery said. “I’m friends with Jinky from where he used to work, I don’t even know most of those guys-“
“Shut up,” Slim Jay said. He stroked his chin. “You like my hos?”
“Uh… Not… in a sexual way,” Avery said. “They’re cool and all.” He gave a smile and a nod hello to the thick ho, who smiled more eagerly back. She waved at him. “I love your top.”
“Thank you, baby,” she cooed, the motion of which made her corpulent breasts jiggle.
“Shut up.”
Slim Jay nodded. “You Christian?”
Avery nodded.
“Fine. Go to Room 16. Just wait there. I’ll send you someone.” Slim Jay turned and walked away, pulling out his cell phone as he went.
The fat prostitute and the awkward, horsey-faced girl shrugged. They followed after Slim Jay, who went toward the motel lobby. Not sure what else to do, Avery just went to Room 16. If nothing else, he could wait there until the other groomsmen were done. This would not be the first time he waited for other men to be done at a brothel. Room 16 was unlocked, even though this was one of those motel rooms whose doors automatically lock. The lock was disabled, apparently.
He had just given up on Slim Jay doing anything when there was a knock at the door.
Avery got up from the bed, where he had been trying to figure out the remote control. He wasn’t into prostitutes. If Slim Jay brought him a new ho, Avery was just going to tell her to leave.
Standing there, glowering in the doorway to Room 16, was Nutter, a tall, broad-shouldered black man with a barrel chest and a cocky grin on his face. He wore a powder-blue baseball cap backwards, and a large crucifix was tattooed running up his sternum to his neck. He had dark brown skin that was smooth and creamy, and he carried with him a bottle of malt liquor that he finished as he entered the room.
“Yo,” he said, showing off his alluring smile and dimples. He stepped in, his muscular chest tense and puffed out like he meant to intimidate someone, despite the smiling face. “I’m Nutter.”
Slim Jay stood outside the door, with his arms crossed over his violet suit and purple tie. He smiled at Avery’s shocked face. “Nutter’ll do anything you say. Have a good bachelor party, man”
“Thanks…” Avery’s voice trailed off. He had no idea what was going on. The motel room door slammed shut. Of course, the lock had been disabled, so it simply bounced in the doorframe before settling on the threshold, barely shut at all.
But the door was shut enough to give an air of privacy to the dingy motel room.
“You blow weed?” Nutter asked. He pulled out a blunt he had been keeping behind one of his ears. He lit it and puffed til it had a good cherry, then he passed it to Avery, who took a deep drag. He hadn’t smoked a blunt since high school, so he coughed before passing it back. Nutter smiled. Avery took another hit, then passed it to Nutter, who puffed on it like a smokestack. He sucked down like a third of the blunt in his two hits.
Then Nutter held the smoke in his open mouth before exhaling a long plume. “A’ight… You want me to jerk you off, right? Let’s get it over wit’. You gonna stick me in the ass, honky?”
“Oh. Uh… Okay. Yeah, I, uh… I do that, do you, uh, mean…?” Avery was sure he had heard this wrong. He had to laugh at his own nervousness. This was like a dream, he told himself, you better not get so nervous you can’t even take advantage of it while you can. There was no way Slim Jay had a stable of both pretty women — kinda pretty — as well as this alpha male mandingo with the huge muscles and a no-doubt tight ass.
Nutter put the blunt down on the ashtray on the nightstand. He took off his hat, removed his shirt, then put his hat back on. His bare chest muscles rippled.
“So, uh… Nutter, are you…? I mean, uh, do you work, uh, for Slim Jay?”
“You mean am I a ho like a bitch?” Nutter asked. He scoffed. He stood up. He took another puff on the blunt, then exhaled the smoke directly in Avery’s face. “Do I look like a female ho?”
“No! That’s why I was asking! You didn’t seem like it, like that,” Avery said. What if he got beat up and robbed? Did Slim Jay really have any reason to trust Nutter? What if this was a set-up?
“No. I do not work for Slim Jay, whiteboy. I got cash, see?” He pulled out a wad of hundred dollar bills. “I got whores of my own, turnin’ tricks for me. Ya dig?”
“Oh. You’re a pimp?”
“Not ‘xactly, but yeah. I got whores workin’ for me, so…” He shrugged as he took off his clean sneakers.
Avery nervously undressed. He was a thin and delicate man, and he felt tiny standing next to Nutter, who was a round-chested, bulging-muscled macho. His chiseled torso was smooth, but Avery could tell it was only because he shaved it, whereas Avery had always been naturally smooth.
“You smell like girl,” Nutter said. He inhaled deeply.
“Uh… I guess… thanks?” Avery said. His dick dangled between his legs. He was proud of it — he rivaled Nutter’s own cock size. Judging from the look on Nutter’s face, he had intended to make fun of Avery for having a small dick and was annoyed to see that Avery didn’t, so he couldn’t.
Nutter got down on his knees. He laughed. “You believe me that I’m alpha as fuck?”
“Yeah!” Avery said. He blurted it out, and as soon as he said it, it was apparent that Nutter didn’t believe him, which made sense since Avery’s instinct was to say no.
“No, you don’t. You just want me to jerk you off,” Nutter said. “But you don’t get it.” He took Avery’s dick in hand and put it in his mouth, for just a second. “See? I can do it.”
“Yeah, I-“
Nutter scowled and frowned at Avery. “I was locked up for a long time, that’s all. I had a girlfriend. I mean, she was a boy, but I plowed her like a bitch and I always call her a her. I-“
“You had a girlfriend in prison-?”
“Don’t interrupt me. I plowed her ass until it turned into a pussy. She grew a clit just to satisfy me, whiteboy, and so I could make her cum so hard her teeth fall out. You believe that?”
“Well… Not really. No…”
“Shut up. I did it, I swear to God,” he said. He kissed Avery’s cock on the tip. “She had a dick like yours. Sometimes I liked to satisfy her dick. It feels good to be close to someone, y’know. Can’t be alone forever. I wanted to make someone happy, ya dig?”
“Yeah,” Avery said. “That makes sense.” He had trouble concentrating because Nutter seemed so aggressive even though his words were not. Avery couldn’t even think about what Nutter was saying. Nutter just scoffed at Avery, flopping his limp dick between his fingers.
“So go fuck yourself, whiteboy,” Nutter said. Then he swallowed Avery’s dick again.
The hostility in the air made Avery nervous. He disliked confrontation. But the anxiety actually made this even better than he expected — in truth, Nutter had an awkward, sloppy mouth. Avery felt his teeth more than once, and he attacked Avery’s dick as though he was angry with it. Avery couldn’t stop thinking about how Nutter could bite his dick off anytime.
That didn’t stop him from getting hard though, and the more anxious he got, the more his dick spasmed and throbbed, stiffening and prodding Nutter’s throat. Since Nutter was so big, he could deep-throat Avery easily, and with just a little struggle, he managed to nestle his nose deep into Avery’s flesh. Pleasure bubbled up Avery’s body.
“Aw, okay, oh god…” Avery babbled, too anxious to keep his mouth shut. It felt so good he stood on his toes and his eyes fluttered, hands hovering above Nutter’s head.
Finally Nutter pulled away. He swallowed, snorted and sniffled. He shot an angry look up at Avery, who blushed and turned his head away. Nutter stood and reached for his pants. He withdrew a bottle of lube.
“You wanna get in my ass, whiteboy?”
“Uh… okay… Yeah,” Avery said.
Nutter continued his hostile glare, never breaking eye contact for a moment as he squeezed lube out onto his hand. He rubbed it between his asscheeks. “You ain’t half the man Ramon was.”
“Okay. Ramon?”
“That was my girl, man.” Nutter spat onto the carpet. He sounded like he thought Avery should have already known that. “In prison. She tasted better than you.” He smirked at Avery, then he shook his head.
“Oh. Sorry,” Avery said. “You know, I’m like… cool with that, right?”
“Yes, you are. You wanted to ram a big black buck, and so that’s what Slim Jay got.”
“Whoah, that is not what happened. I never asked Slim Jay for anything,” Avery said. “You came in here and asked to jerk me off. You asked me to stick you in the ass. So I’m doing it. Don’t get mad at me for doing what you asked me to.” Avery blushed. He was rarely that confrontational with anyone.
Nutter bristled and wrinkled his nose. Then he smiled again. “Whatever, fuck Slim Jay. He’s a shithead. I turned his mom out, y’know,” he said. “She’s a trashy crackwhore.”
“Oh. Okay,” Avery said, slim-lipped and sucking in his breath.
“You’ll go at me hard, right?” he said. “I can take it.” He bent over the bedspread and clutched the blanket there. His big brown ass was bare, gleaming with lubricant.
Avery gulped and spread his asscheeks. He felt small in comparison to Nutter, whose asscheeks were wider than Avery’s entire chest. He rubbed each cheek and moaned at the power he felt in their quivering flesh.
“You gotta get lower,” Avery said softly. “You’re too tall.” His dick was at Nutter’s knee-height.
“Damn, short-ass whiteboy,” he said. He scooted down so he squatted on his ankles. Avery had to sit on the ground under him, making for a very awkward position since Nutter was much bigger and heavier than he was. Nutter chuckled, and his massive muscles writhed in front of Avery’s face. “Ramon was not that short.”
“It sounds like you really cared about him,” Avery said as he wedged his dick in.
“Her!” He barked so angrily Avery didn’t understand what he said at first. Then Nutter said, “Ramon was my bitch. I let her do things to me cuz I loved her, and I needed a tangible expression of my love.”
“Oh, yeah, sorry,” Avery said. “Her. Sorry. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, man, get goin’,” he said. “Come on, hurry up.”
Avery nodded and started to work his dick in. It felt like Nutter hadn’t taken any dick in a long time. His asshole was so tight Avery wasn’t sure this would work. But he squeezed on more lube and slowly got his dick in there, inch by inch.
Soon Avery was all the way in his ass, which squeezed and clenched around his cock. He moaned as little sparks of pleasure erupted in his manhood, and it throbbed in Nutter’s tight guts. Avery topped so rarely that he felt weird doing it now, especially in this awkward position.
But Nutter appeared to only be willing to do it like this. He kneeled in front of the bed as though he was going to start praying. His gold and platinum chains dangled around his neck, and his muscles all tensed as he struggled to accept Avery’s dick.
“You gotta relax,” Avery said when Nutter’s tight body started making it difficult for Avery to keep plowing him.
Nutter took a deep breath. He wrenched his body and gasped. Avery couldn’t tell if he was in pain or pleasure or both, but Nutter writhed. He leapt up and onto the bed so fast he dragged Avery with him.
And then Avery was literally on his back, supported entirely by Nutter’s spasming muscles. Since he had no leverage, it was all Avery could do to hold onto Nutter’s shoulders like a rodeo-rider on a rampaging bull. Avery’s body was wracked by intense sensations, which made him moan and groan, the sound of which was swallowed up by Nutter’s back.
“I would give you a reacharound,” Avery said breathlessly. His hands tried to grope around Nutter’s body, but Avery’s arms were much too short. He could barely finger Nutter’s erect, precum-leaking cock. “But I can’t reach.”
“Ramon always gave a reacharound,” Nutter muttered. “She loved me. Like a good bitch.” He took another deep breath and winced as Avery started to move his hips in a circle. That reawakened the bliss coursing through Avery’s veins.
Since Avery just laid on Nutter’s back and ass for now, he couldn’t plow. He just swayed, moving his dick around in Nutter’s ass as Nutter slowly grew comfortable with it. Nutter’s back muscles writhed, his tattoos gleaming with the sweat that collected there.
Eventually it felt like Nutter had grown used to Avery’s dick in his ass. Avery massaged his back and licked up the salty beads of sweat that dappled his flesh. Nutter moaned, his hostility gone now. Avery was able to slowly grind his dick in and out, every centimeter’s worth of motion wracking both men’s bodies with spasms and shocks of pleasure.
“Yeah, stick it in me, whiteboy,” he said. “You got a bigger dick than Ramon. It hurts more. But it feels good more too.” He chuckled but cut off his laughter when the movement made the pain worse.
Avery smiled. “Yeah. I got a big dick. Not as big as yours,” he said. He wasn’t sure that was strictly true, but he saw the wisdom in pumping up Nutter’s pride. Nutter did straighten his back out when he heard that.
Then Nutter’s cell phone rang. He roared in frustration, reached down to his pants and pulled out the cell phone. “Keep it down, whiteboy,” he said. His movement made his asshole squeeze around Avery’s cock. “I gotta take this. You might hear me get real.”
“Oh. Okay,” Avery said, too overwhelmed by passion to think about what that might mean.
“What?” Nutter said by way of greeting into the phone. “Uh-huh. No. No. No. No. No! You know my answer, Coolie. You pay me tomorrow.” He groaned into the phone. “Shut up, bitch. I’m fuckin’ a female in the ass. You wanna hear her croon?” He held up the phone to Avery, who was startled. He let out a feminine oah, ooh! “You hear that, Coolie? I just might hear you making that sound if you don’t pay me — well, it ain’t that hard, motherfucker. Just charge the shitmunchers more to make up for it. If you was a real hustler, you could it, nigga! Lil Bee do it. Rakhim Shockley do it. Wink do it. Nailboy do it,” he said. His face was red and screwed up, his anger at Coolie mixing with the intensity of being rammed in his sensitive ass. He roared into the phone. “You can do it too. Nailboy is straight up retarded, you fuckin’ bitch-ass nigga, you sell that shit and pay me tomorrow, or I will get the money outta yo’ ass!” By the time he hung up, Nutter was screaming so loud it made the light fixtures rattle. Avery was sure people in other rooms could hear that. His shouting made his asshole squeeze, sending shoots of pleasure through Avery’s body.
Avery was perfectly motionless, focusing on not orgasming despite Nutter’s massaging his dick. He was terrified of the argument — he had seen enough movies to worry that a driveby was coming next. But Nutter didn’t seem upset about it.
“Sorry ya had to hear me act like that,” Nutter said, his voice tense and clipped, Avery’s cock throbbing in his ass. “I know street talk makes white folk uncomfortable.” He sniffled. “Now get back to business.”
“Okay, yeah, sure, okay,” Avery said. “Cool. Fine.” He took a deep breath to stop himself from babbling again.
He took his dick all the way out, then pushed it back in with a loud sigh. He got up on his knees, while Nutter remained laying on his belly on the bed, one hand underneath himself jacking his own manhood.
That gave Avery leverage. He worked his dick in and out, and they both moaned in harmony with each other. Nutter had a deep, baritone voice that resonated in the rickety motel, while Avery’s flamboyant lilt gave the sound a musical air.
Avery was short enough and Nutter’s body was thick enough that Avery could plow his plump, bubbling cheeks while Avery kneeled behind him and Nutter laid on his belly. Avery just rocked his body forward, slipping his dick all the way in and most of the way out.
One of Avery’s hands gripped the bed beneath him, while the other kneaded the thick meaty slab of flesh over Nutter’s shoulder. Nutter moaned loudly. Each thrust of Avery’s hips brought both men closer to their climaxes.
His asshole clenched, and the smell of cum filled the air. Avery moaned as well, as his orgasm overwhelmed him. He felt the most incredible sensation of his life bursting deep within his body. His muscles all tightened.
The feeling of Nutter’s orgasm was palpable in the squeezing of his asshole and his muscles writhing in Avery’s delicate fingers. Nutter spurted a massive load into his hand and onto the bedspread. It soaked into the fabric there and filled the air with its cottony-sour scent. Nutter inhaled deeply of the aroma, while the first drops of cum filled up Nutter’s ass and landed on his sensitive prostate.
For a moment, Avery felt as strong as Nutter was — it was ridiculous, of course, since Nutter was easily twice Avery’s size. Avery pounded on his chest and roared, the sound drowned out by Nutter’s much deeper, louder grunting.
Cum sprayed into Nutter’s ass. It was a huge load, bigger than any Avery had ever shot. He just kneeled there motionless, using Nutter’s muscular back for support. He threw his head back and moaned his eyes, his girlish moan filling the air as wad after wad of jizz flooded Nutter’s ass.
Finally Avery was done. But his orgasm continued, in great waves as he felt Nutter’s muscles contract and flex beneath him. His cum filled up Nutter’s body and dripped out, further soaking the motel’s bedspread.
“God damn,” Nutter said with an exhausted moan. “You like that, whiteboy?”
“Hell yeah…” Avery said as he pulled out his limpening manhood. He took a deep breath. He was suddenly dizzy, overwhelmed by both fear and desire — he had visions of that Coolie person who had been on the phone coming by to fight with Nutter. Avery leaned down and kissed each of Nutter’s cheeks, which trembled beneath his lips.
“Clean up my ass now, bitch,” Nutter barked. Avery grabbed the tissues of the nightstand. He cleaned up Nutter’s ass, where creamy white cum flowed out of it.
Then Nutter stood and stretched his legs. He avoided eye contact with Avery as he got dressed.
“Thanks,” Avery said.
“Thank Slim Jay,” Nutter said. He shrugged. “If anyone asks, you was in here beggin’ me fo’ some free crack. I made you jerk me off and then I still ain’t give you none.”
“Uh… okay,” Avery said. He sat back on the bed. He had no intention of telling anyone that, but he wasn’t going to tell Nutter no.
When Nutter was dressed, he sneered at Avery’s naked body. “You skinny as shit,” he said. “You gotta get bigger.” He relit the blunt he had placed in the ashtray before. He took a deep breath and glanced out the window. “Aw, fuck, there’s that Coolie nigga. I’m-a go beat his ass. Have a good time, y’know, wit’ whatevuh whiteboys do.”
He left before Avery could answer. Avery crept forward to the window, where he watched Nutter stride out into the street. He confronted a trashy-looking, low-class thug, and they argued but soon walked away from the well-lit motel parking lot.
Avery got dressed and stepped out. By then, Jinky and the other groomsmen were finishing up with their prostitutes as well. Slim Jay smiled when Avery came out of the hotel room and met up with the others.
“You have fun, man?” he asked.
Avery nodded.
“Fo’ real?” Slim Jay asked, and in the way he raised his eyebrow, it seemed Slim Jay knew what had happened in here. He knew that Nutter had bottomed, and he knew that Avery wasn’t supposed to reveal that.
“Yeah,” Avery said with a smile. “I jerked him off, y’know. He’s an alpha male, a real gangsta. He throated me down hard. I, uh… I couldn’t take it. He’s too hardcore for me.”
When Yoder’s leave from the lumber camp goes wrong, he’s got no choice but to spend the night with Cooter! Cooter’s a filthy, hairy redneck with some curious ideas on what men can do on lonely nights…
Can Yoder handle the kind of sweet release Cooter’s seeking?!
Read the whole thing here!
Yoder assumed he would get laid on his night out. He had spent two weeks living in a remote camp in the middle of nowhere, working as a lumberjack on a remote tree farm in West Virginia. It was just him and about two dozen roughnecks like him, no women, for weeks. The work was arduous, and Yoder’s muscles ached so bad they were numb some days. Even today, when he was off all day, he struggled to get out of his bunk. His back and his legs and his shoulders ached like a Monday morning, and he could still feel the vibrations of yesterday’s chainsaw reverberating through his body.
Needless to say, the lumberjacks all planned on fucking whores when they finally got a night off in town (the “town” being Laramy, West Virginia). They done been talking about it for weeks even before Yoder showewd up — some them working-harders been living there in the woods for a couple months already. This was Yoder’s first job of this sort, but the others was old hats at it, and some had done been lumberjacking for decades. They steady procured a prostitute on their first night off, they did declare. It was a tradition of sorts.
Or maybe “tradition” was overselling it. They was just horny, and they don’t got the patience, stature or stability needed to attract a woman as a partner. Their only outlet — Yoder’s only outlet — was a prostitute.
That made Yoder nervous. He ain’t never had been with a prostitute. He was raised a God-fearing lad, and he wasn’t sure he could go through with it. He was afrighted for his very soul.
But he don’t admire to be left out, so he shown up to the alley behind the late-night bar in Laramy at the designated time with money in his pocket. There was a pimp there — dressed in a resplendent multicolored suit — and a bevy of women.
One by one, the roughnecks did choose a woman. That included this fat-ass Pollack who talked like he had gotten one of his extra chins stuck between his teeth, a half-Mexican who was the most racist son of a bitch Yoder had ever met and a gibbering hillbilly who had Mountain Dew for brains. None them got any trouble hiring a woman for the night, or for a couple hours at least.
But Yoder done arrived there last, and by the time it was his turn, there were no women left. The pimp shrugged and said sorry, that was it, he don’t got any more hos. He walked away, leaving Yoder there, dejected and alone.
Alone save for Cooter.
Jethro “Cooter” Wilde was the tallest lumberjack at the camp and the biggest one too. He was one them with experience, having done work as a lumberjack much of his life, and he had bulging muscles, a powerful body and a hairy chest. He spoke with a hoarse, gravelly voice from his constant smoking, and he was so loud and rambunctious that Yoder considered getting a hotel room just for himself, even without a whore — he didn’t much like the idea of spending the evening in camp with no one but Cooter to keep him company.
They could have drank alone in a bar, but that seemed pointless if there was no chance of getting laid (and in this rural area inhabited almost entirely by roughneck men, the chances of getting laid by a non-prostitute approached zero — even meeting a woman was a slim prospect). It was cheaper to drink back in the camp, so that was what they decided to do.
But when they got back to the cabins they had done built — first step on the job had been building their own cabins — they had locked up the stash. That wasn’t to keep Yoder and Cooter out, it was because another fracking company crew was working nearby and they had a reputation for stealing beer. Arnie ain’t think anyone would be here tonight.
So they ate dinner and then went to bed, both Yoder and Cooter too depressed to do much else. The lack of sex didn’t seem like a big deal to Yoder really, he was ambivalent about prostitution anyway. Well, not ambivalent, opposed.
But he would have done it. He thought now he would have done it. He had a girlfriend before coming to work at the lumberjack camp, and he missed her more than he thought possible. Not just her body either, but including her body. She loved to fuck.
If nobody ever brung up the prostitute thing, Yoder would have been fine. If nobody ever done invent prostitution, it wouldn’t have even occurred to him that he was missing out on a chance to fuck this weekend. No way to get a girlfriend living as a lumberjack out in the woods, so there was no way to fuck.
But there was a way to fuck without a girlfriend, and Yoder had missed out on it. Being so close to getting laid left him horny and unable to think about anything else. He even had the money to pay for it still in his pocket.
But now here he was, trying to sleep in the cabin he shared with nineteen other men. It smelled like body hair and like sweat and engine grease and sawdust. He wanted to go home. He wanted to see that old girlfriend again. Just hear her voice.
Or maybe hearing her voice would tantalize him all over again.
“Hey… Yoder…” came Cooter’s gravely voice from his upper bunk on the other side of the cabin.
“What?”
He jumped down from his bunk. His massive body jiggled as he stretched his legs and came over to Yoder’s side. “I can’t sleep,” he said. “I’m too horny.”
“Me neither.” Yoder paused. “You wanna take a turn in the porn shed?” That was a tool shed near the living quarters. Inside was a trunk filled with old-fashioned porn magazines (it also had tools). The roughnecks took turns jacking off there at night, and sometimes they didn’t even take turns. No room for squeamishness in Lumber Camp D. Yoder thought it was gross — he did it, of course, but in his mind, men should pretend they didn’t masturbate. He didn’t see the attraction of making everyone cum on the same photo in the same magazine until the entire thing was wrinkled and soggy, pages stuck together. Yoder didn’t like to touch it.
Some of the others, including Cooter, thought it was hilarious to make it filthy.
“I don’t wanna jack off.” Cooter stood there like he was waiting for something. With only two men, the cabin had an eerie liminality to it that made the hair on the back of Yoder’s neck stand on end. He didn’t like being in camp without all the people. It felt like a post-apocalyptic hauntscape. Cooter cleared his throat.
“Okay… then I guess go back to bed?”
Cooter took a deep breath. “You wanna… do somethin’?”
“What?”
“I mean… we could share mouth.” Cooter had suggested that before. Back when he was a young man, he claimed, there was no porno shed, or at least there was no porno. The lumberjacks traded mouths to get their nuts off.
Seemed gross to Yoder. It was gross. Yoder didn’t even like getting dome that much. Sure, it’d be nice, but it was no ass. Yoder loved ass for sure.
After a long pause, Yoder said, “Are you serious?”
Cooter nodded. He sat down on the edge of Yoder’s bunk. “Come on… if you swallow my dick, you know, full mouth, I’ll let you stick me up the ass.”
“What? Really? Yeah, I mean…” Yoder blurted out without thinking about it. In his mind, he wasn’t agreeing to do that, he was agreeing that it was a good trade, it was beneficial for him — Yoder would be getting more than he gave.
He wasn’t saying ‘yes’, per se, even if the thought of getting his dick in some booty was tantalizing. Yoder’s stiffy was still tenting his boxers. Cooter had a well-muscled ass, and Yoder was no stranger to cornholing a man when he got to — Yoder was from Smashwood Trailer Park, where cornholing a hobo was a veritable rite of passage.
But Cooter? He was hairy, sweaty, big… Yoder mighta said no if he got time to think about it, but Cooter took his agreement as a yes and ran with it, and by the time Yoder was brainstorming how to say no, Cooter was dropping his drawers.
“Oh thank god,” Cooter said. He flopped his fat cock between his fingers, swaying it left and right.
This was all happening very fast. Yoder still lay on his side on his bunk, and now Cooter sat naked right next to him. His broad, plump asscheeks spread out on the mattress. Yoder looked at the hair of his ass with considerable discomfort, both because he could only imagine Cooter farting onto Yoder’s mattress right now and because he was nervous about getting up into that hairy, massive ass. He was not going to be able to pretend he was with a woman.
But Yoder didn’t want to back out. He remained on his side but curled up around Cooter’s body so his head was near Cooter’s lap. The smell of cockmeat assaulted his nostrils. Cooter had a big dick, which he whacked across Yoder’s face. Cooter laughed.
“Can you not fuckin’ hit me with your cock?” Yoder asked. He flared his nostrils, not that Cooter could see it in the dark.
Cooter chuckled like Yoder was an idiot for asking. “Sorry, I was just playin’, hoss,” He sighed at the serious expression on Yoder’s face, dimly illuminated by the dim light at the cabin’s door. “Just get to it, Yoder, don’t blueball me. Make it nice and wet.”
Yoder sighed, but he cut his sigh short because his mouth filled with humid air from Cooter’s hairy crotch, as Cooter stood and faced Yoder’s bunk, his barbaric dick dangling free near Yoder’s head.
The air tasted like cock already. Cooter was a hairy redneck with a wild bear, and his wild furry crotch was dense and bushy. His dick was even bigger than it seemed from a distance because so much of it was concealed behind his pubic hair.
But Yoder didn’t want to put this off any longer, or Cooter was going to get angry, and Yoder’s cock was crying out for ass. Yoder opened his mouth and swallowed his dick down to the root.
Instantly a few sensations overwhelmed Yoder — first, there was disgust, as Cooter’s cock tasted like distilled manhood, like Yoder was licking every inch of his body rather than just sucking on the tip of his dick. Second, it didn’t taste anywhere’s near as bad as he had predicted. Maybe it was just because he was horny, Yoder thought, but this really wasn’t too bad. It tasted a lot like dirty pussy.
Of course he didn’t want to admit that. His throat opened up as he forced himself to deep-throat Cooter, all the way to the root. He had a big cock so Yoder struggled to get it all down, but when he did, Cooter’s entire body writhed from intense pleasure. His nose nuzzled Cooter’s pubic jungle.
That veiny beefy shaft throbbed in Yoder’s mouth. He let his tongue roam up and down the shaft because he knew he liked it when girls did that to him, and apparently Cooter enjoyed it too because he moaned and arched his back as Yoder did it. Yoder blushed — he hadn’t meant for it to look like he was good at this.
“Hey… will you gimme a reacharound when you stick it in me?” Cooter asked, his voice quiet as though there was some chance someone might could have done snuck into their camp to hear him. He pulled his dick away from Yoder’s mouth, and Yoder held back a gag as he wiped off spitty tendrils connecting his face to Cooter’s cock. That made him gag again.
“A reacharound?” Yoder’s voice was clipped and moist. He drooled because he didn’t want to swallow what was in his mouth, and he didn’t want to spit on the floor of the cabin he lived in.
“Yeah. Do I gotta explain what that is?”
“Well… I suppose I can guess,” Yoder said. “I thought you wanted mouth?”
“I do. I did. I can’t conc’ntrate on it knowin’ what’s ’bout to happen,” he said. “So if’n you j’st gimme a reacharound while you do it, t’won’t be that bad..”
“Fine, yeah, I’ll jack you off,” Yoder said, glad to stop tasting his nasty dick. He stood up next to his bunk and quickly dropped his sweatpants, while Cooter got on his knees and bent over.
That’s when Yoder realized how awkward this was gonna be.
Cooter was quite a bit taller and a lot heavier than Yoder. Even on his knees, the size difference was substantial, and Yoder hadta get him to lower his ass so Yoder could get it in him. Yoder was on his tiptoes to get his dick lined up with Cooter’s ass.
He felt small and skinny next to Cooter. In comparison to these other roughnecks, Yoder came across like a skinny prettyboy. That’s how they saw him. He wasn’t, not really, he just wasn’t the kind of raunchy-bearded hard-living freak who spent his whole life wandering between prison cells, work-camps and oil rigs.
And there was that hairy ass. Yoder hadn’t really thought about that until he saw it bent over before him, and now the time had come — he was going to put his dick in there. He felt like he was sticking it into a trap, but he was too horny to back out now. Besides that, he had already done his half. Quitting now would be humiliating.
He pushed his limp dick between those cheeks, nestled in the thick fur of Cooter’s hillbilly ass. Cooter grunted as though he was already in pain, though Yoder hadn’t even penetrated him yet. His body hair was coarse and unpleasant, distinctly unfeminine, Yoder was unable to pretend it was a woman’s pubic hair.
“You have a hairy ass, you fuckin’ redneck, shit…” Yoder gritted his teeth as he rubbed his dick in the hair of Cooter’s crack. Cooter laughed at him — he, like most of the other roughnecks in this camp, wore the redneck badge proudly.
Much to Yoder’s surprise, his dick got hard quickly, despite the ass-hair. The tension and anxiety flowing through his veins probably helped, but he hadta admit that Cooter’s muscular ass was arousing. The cheeks were tight, but plump, and the hair was moist with sweat, so when he could stop thinking about what he was doing, he could imagine a woman.
Yoder didn’t want to seem like he had trouble getting hard, so he quickly pushed his dick in, just the tip at first. He felt a surge of pleasure as his dick squeezed into Cooter’s tight asshole. He was not expecting it to feel this good.
Cooter grunted and buried his face in his meaty forearm. He held his breath, biting his upper lip as he struggled to loosen his ass. His toes curled against the ground.
“Open up, hoss,” Yoder said, chuckling as he imitated Cooter’s accent. Cooter grunted again, as though he didn’t appreciate Yoder’s joke, but Yoder didn’t care. He felt powerful, like he wasn’t the green rookie anymore. He felt like he had conquered Cooter, a much bigger and stronger man than he.
Yoder’s hands flailed above Cooter’s body. Cooter’s back muscles writhed, his shoulders etched like a statue; there was a confederate tattoo on his spine, and a Bible verse printed in flowing script on his ribs, extending onto his back. With the tattoos and the undulating muscles, Yoder couldn’t imagine he was touching a woman’s back, which was why Yoder kept his hands away.
But it was awkward to plow back and forth into his ass without touching Cooter. The more Yoder rammed his lower half at Cooter’s body, the fewer inhibitions he had, so his one hand separated the cheeks, ignoring the dense blanket of fur on Cooter’s ass. Meanwhile his other hand caressed Cooter’s back. His instincts took over, and all he could do was watch as his hand did what it wanted. The muscles beneath his grip writhed firmly like a layer of snakes below the skin.
“Don’t forget, hoss, you gotta gimme that reacharound…” Cooter said, his voice pinched and tense from pain.
Yoder had sort of forgotten that, or at least tried not to think about it. He sighed. His right hand moved from Cooter’s back muscles to his front. He had a hairy chest too, but Yoder moved down, through the dense thicket of fur there, until he felt coarse pubic hairs.
Then he wrapped his hand around that cock, which felt greasy and slick from Yoder’s mouth. The saliva was evaporating from the shaft, but there was still enough there to provide some lubrication. He trembled as he gave it a stroke and felt Cooter’s entire body move. The dickshaft pulsated beneath Yoder’s fingers.
Despite his discomfort with the situation, Yoder plowed harder and harder. His dick thrust into Cooter’s ass, each motion making Cooter gasp in a combination of pain and pleasure. Each thrust also sent tingles of desire up Yoder’s spine, making himg runt and groan along with Cooter.
“Damn, hoss, you go hard…”
Yoder was proud of that. He was smaller, weaker and less confident than Cooter in almost everything, so it felt good to know his dick caused Cooter some pain. He ground his dick in slowly, savoring the waves of pre-orgasmic pleasure that washed over him.
“You got a nice ass, Cooter, tight as hell… Wish you’d shave your asshole though,” Yoder said.
“Not a chance.”
The crippeting of the crickets and spring peepers outside was deafening, but Yoder listened attentively to it so he would hear if the others returned to the site. The more excited Yoder was, the more paranoid he became that the other campmates would be back early. Yoder knew Cooter had more to lose than he did, at least right now, but he remained paranoid as his dick slammed in and out of Cooter’s ruddy ass.
Yoder wasn’t sure he wanted to cum first, but he wasn’t able to prevent it. He thought it’d make him look like a wuss who couldn’t last a long time.
But Cooter’s ass was tight, and not even the forest of hair that choked his asshole could prevent Yoder from cumming. He moaned and slammed his hips hard against Cooter’s plump blue-collar ass. Cooter’s cheeks jiggled like a stripper’s.
Though Yoder would later call it weak to save face, the orgasm that wracked his mind and body was the most intense and potent of his life. His mind melted and his muscles all tensed at once. He felt victorious in a way he never had before, like he was extracting all of the manhood from Cooter, who cringed and writhed beneath Yoder’s much smaller body.
“God damn, you hillbilly fuck! Hell yeah!” Yoder was unable to conceal his excitement anymore. His spine arched as his climax roiled through his frame.
Cum spurted out and coated Cooter’s insides, his hot and creamy seed spreading within Cooter’s massive body. Yoder wasn’t sure how much he shot, but it felt like a lot, a bigger load than he had ever produced. Jet after jet of it angled into every corner of Cooter’s guts.
It dripped out and down Cooter’s legs, getting tangled in the coarse hairs of his thigh. Cooter moaned and shuddered. His fingers gripped the mattress on the bunk, and he took a deep breath as his ass filled up with Yoder’s cum.
When Yoder finally fell limp, his dick flopped out of Cooter’s ass. Yoder sighed with the power of his post-orgasmic pleasure, while Cooter sighed from relief that his ass was finally empty again.
“Get back to my dick, hoss…” Cooter said. His voice was tight like he was still in pain.
He sighed and got on his knees next to the bed, while Cooter rolled over. He winced and tentatively put weight on his ass. Yoder tried to hide how proud he was of the fact that his cock had hurt Cooter — Cooter was so much bigger than Yoder that it seemed reasonable to be proud of being able to hurt him. Yoder would have guessed that Cooter was big enough and tough enough to take any dick easily, if he had wanted to.
Cooter struggled to settle on his ass. His dick was rock-hard, throbbing and ready — it felt like it was already near orgasm as Yoder gripped it again. It seemed harder than his own dick ever was. Was that an illusion, he wondered? Or was Cooter really as hard as rock?
Regardless, Yoder swallowed it down, just like before. It tasted worse now, like salty cum as though Yoder’s load had come out Cooter’s dick. He tasted it for a few seconds before he realized it was precum.
That made him gag, but Yoder didn’t stop. Cooter wrapped his hands around Yoder’s head and held on. He slammed his dick all the way — all his gentility was gone, like he had only been gentle about it before because he wanted Yoder to treat him gently when Yoder got him in the ass, or maybe it was because he now felt he needed to reassert his masculine dominance. Or maybe, Yoder thought, he was just so horny he couldn’t help himself. He throated Yoder hard, chuckling as Yoder gagged when his dick hit the back of his throat.
He stopped moving with his cock all the way into Yoder’s throat, his shaft pulsating, the veins of his dick throbbing as Yoder sensed cum flowing towards the tip. That sensation — feeling semen flow through Cooter’s dick in his mouth, his balls crawling up in his sac, giant muscles tensing and relaxing in waves above Yoder’s head — made Yoder gag all over again.
“Ah, yeah, makin’ love to yo’ throat, hoss, that’s what that is…” Cooter said with a groan and a laugh.
Yoder had thought his own load was thick and plentiful, but that was nothing compared to what came out of Cooter’s cock. It felt like he was chugging it, and it flowed out in a constant stream. It coated Yoder’s tongue and the inside of his cheeks, and it sprayed down his gullet, while more dripped out past his lips.
The taste was sour, sweet and salty all at once. It made Yoder’s eyes water the flavor was so potent, and he could sense its heat suffusing from his stomach to every corner of his belly.
At last Cooter let go of Yoder’s head. Yoder pulled off and sputtered as cum dripped from his mouth. He held back a gag, then darted to the back door of the cabin to spit it up into the grass.
“Thanks,” Cooter called out from the bunk. “You swallow dick good, hoss.”
“Fuck you, you got a nice, tight ass. Or you did have a nice, tight ass anyway,” Yoder said with a nervous laugh, as he returned from the back door.. He stayed away from Cooter, whose limp dick still loomed large between his legs. They both tried to catch their breath.
Then Yoder’s blood froze when he heard a truck engine rumbling outside the cabin. Raucous laughter emanated from outside, and Yoder jumped to his feet. He bumped into Cooter, who did likewise, and Yoder got a faceful of funk-sweat plastered all over his skin. The salt of Cooter’s chest hair and sweat trickled into Yoder’s mouth, making his lips pucker.
Damn, those bitches is already asleep! I’m glad I got my nut off!
They were back early. Yoder felt like he was covered in cum and it would be obvious what happened. Should he take the time to wipe his face off? Or just hide under the covers?
Cooter strode outside, stark naked, totally confident, stretching his legs as he tried to hide the pain in his ass. He grabbed his shower stuff as he went — he was known for walking to the shower-tent naked, so that was a good idea. Yoder wished he had thought of it. He watched Cooter’s naked hairy ass jiggle as he walked outside.
What’s up, boys? You fuck the shit outta those ugly whores?!
You’re a damn pussy, Cooter. You could’ve had sloppy seconds, y’know.
Did you and Yoder have a circlejerk?
What?
That’s what we all guessed you was doin’ back here.
We ain’t do that. We just took turns in the porno shed.
Yoder quickly wiped his face off with his own t-shirt, then darted underneath the sheet on his bunk. The whole mattress stank of Cooter and his hairy ass, but Yoder was terrified of being caught so that didn’t bother him. Would they see cum on his face? Had he wiped it all off? Would they smell the funk?
The cabin door opened, and Yoder scrunched his eyes up to pretend to be asleep. He had, however, never been more awake in his life. He sighed and tried to pretend he was ignoring his campmates as they took their own clothes off, bragging about how hard they had fucked their respective whores.
If only they knew, Yoder thought with a wry smile as he finally drifted off to sleep. A part of him was glad he hadn’t fucked a prostitute. That would have been immoral and expensive. It was better to swing on the downlow with Cooter.
As a matter of fact, Yoder had another leave coming up in two weekends. He wondered if Cooter would be willing to take a second go. This, Yoder thought, just might make his time as a lumberjack a lot more satisfying.
Madhu is approached by a pimp with a bizarre offer — tutor his brother in computer programming in exchange for the ride of a lifetime. You see, Perry the pimp doesn’t want his brother to follow in his footsteps, meaning he is willing to give Madhu a free swing on a ho for lessons…
But when Madhu’s not interested in a ho — he prefers Perry’s studly body — Madhu is in for a topsy-turvy climax of alpha male twink on top action!
Or read the whole thing here!
Living in Philadelphia during presidential caucus season meant that Madhu Sharma was used to being harangued by ideologues of various sorts, distributing pamphlets, QR codes, rumors, surveys, social media pile-ons, revenge porn and, worst of all, merch. So when he saw a flamboyantly dressed man on his doorstep, knocking loud like a swat team, Madhu assumed it was some sort of political stunt. Gato had been calling Governor Saltieri a “pimp for ethanol” for a long time, so Madhu thought perhaps this was a Gato operative.
He opened the door with a dour frown. “I’m a registered Democrat,” he said. “Please don’t give me a sales pitch on any Republican-” He stopped talking because he realized the man in front of him was — or at least was very good at appearing like — a real pimp.
He was black as twilight, and the clothes were fine, tailored, brightly-colored, and seemingly real, not a costume. How many Republican political volunteers were black men with actual pimp clothes? Probably very few. This could only be a real pimp. He was tall, kind of lean but powerfully built, with a harsh face and a long scar from his chin to his cheek. He looked like he thought he was more handsome than he was, and he probably was very handsome as a younger man. Now he was craggy and scarred, with the despirate cast-iron look of an ex-con.
“I ain’t no Republican, motherfucker,” said the man in a hippy rhythm, like it was the opening line to a song. He put a big smile on his face. “The name’s Perry. Can I come in?”
“Uh…” Madhu didn’t answer, but Perry didn’t wait. He pushed past him into the house. He was a lot taller than Madhu, and Madhu’s face was shoved into the door by the massive man as he shoved his way in. Madhu shut the door behind him.
“Can I… uh… help you? I haven’t hired a… well, anyone. I haven’t hired anyone for anything,” Madhu said.
“I know. I gotcha, baby,” he said. “I pickin’ up what you’s puttin’ down, sweetheart. You got confusion, I got answers. Listen, cuz they is packing a wallop. Perry got answers for e’erything, man. Madhu, right? You got any questions about the universe, God, science, history, whatever you want, Perry will lay down the truth to you.” He walked into Madhu’s kitchen and opened the fridge. He snarled in frustration. “You got no beer?”
“No-“
“Liquor?”
“Uh, yeah, in the cabinet over there,” Madhu said. He pointed, and Perry found a bottle of bourbon. He poured himself a drink and added ice. As he did, he passed over his smartphone, which was open to a picture of a scantily clad girl. She looked pretty, but in a rather whoreish way. Madhu couldn’t tell if it was a photograph or a publicity still from a porno. He glanced at it. “What am I supposed to do with this?”
“Look through there for a girl you like,” he said.
Madhu did as he was told, flipping through pictures of slutty-looking women in low-cut dresses. Many of the photos seemed to have been taken in the same low-rent apartment, some ghetto-ass place, and some of the girls were wearing the same dresses. His heart pounded as he tried to figure out what was going on. He had no interest in any of these girls. Why had a pimp burst into his house like this? Should he call the police? If he had his phone nearby, he might have done it, but it was sitting on the charger in his bedroom.
“You know my brother, Jerembee.”
“No I don’t,” Madhu said. “Look, these girls are nice. They’re very pretty, but I don’t see what-“
“That wasn’t a question, bitch, shut yo’ mouth,” Perry said with a dramatic sigh. “When Perry graces you wit’ a statement, you shut yo’ fool mouth and listen.” He took a sip from his bourbon. “You hear me?”
“Yeah… I get it, I just don’t understand-“
“Shut the goddamn fuck up before I shut you up. I is in the process of explainin’, but you ain’t respondin’ right. I’s talkin’, and you’s over there flippy-flappin’ like a penguin about the phone-“
“You told me to look in the phone-!”
“You can do two things at once, dumbass!” Perry jabbed a finger in his direction. “Both look at the girlies and listen to me!”
“Fine.” Madhu flipped back through the pictures of trashy women. He’d already seen them all. When he went back to the end of the photo album, he saw a dick pic of Perry’s cock — presumably — a photo of a birthday cake and some pics of puppies doing cute puppy things. He wondered if Perry realized he was able to flip past the women.
“”You do know Jerembee. He lives next door to you. He lives right over there.”
“Who? Oh, Jay Man?”
“He calls himself Jay Man?”
“Yeah, that’s what he introduced himself as,” Madhu said, though now that he thought about it, he had received mail addressed to his neighbor, so he did know his real name was Jerembee. He just hadn’t thought of it in time. Perry’s presence and his big-chested swagger made it hard to think about anything else.
Perry chuckled. “Don’t call him that. Call him Jerembee from now on. That’s good enough for our mama, it’s good enough for him.” He took another long drink of bourbon. “Fuckin’ Jay Man.” He looked at the glass of bourbon like he had just noticed it was in his hand. “That’s good bourbon. What is it, French?” He looked at the label.
“All bourbon comes from Kentucky.”
His face screwed up tight, and he wagged a finger at Madhu. “Don’chu dare educate me ’bout liquor, you spicetip shit, I will correct you in a most unpleasant fashion, you hear?”!
“Yeah, fine, I still don’t get why you’re here,” Madhu snapped.
“Don’t get snippy wit’ me. You find a girl you like?”
“I… uh… I’m not into prostitutes,” Madhu said.
Perry cocked his head to the side and looked him up and down. “What?” he asked. His eyes cringed at the sight of Madhu’s thin twink body and girlish face. He inspected Madhu up and down. His menace made Madhu shiver with fear. He frowned and grabbed Madhu’s crotch. Madhu felt a surge of pain as Perry squeezed hard on his cock and balls through the fabric of his pants, and Madhu sucked in his breath and stood on his toes. Despite that, Madhu’s cock swelled up, both from arousal and fear. Perry frowned again.
“I’m sorry… Why are you here?” Madhu asked.
“You know my brother, right? And you a computer programmer?”
“Yeah.”
“Can you teach him?”
“Teach him what?”
“Programming, motherfucker.”
“Uh… I’m not a teacher,” Madhu said.
“I know, but he can’t afford college or nothing like that,” Perry said. “Hs gotta go clean. I ain’t gonna let him end up a thug. I know he can get a job if he programs. I read them tech firms is lookin’ for niggas, cuz they get protested all the time, for being like ninety percent white.”
Madhu scoffed. “Try ninety percent Indian.”
“Well, not ninety percent nigga, that’s for damn sure. They want niggas, and Jerembee’s gonna be one of ‘em,” he said. “I was gonna let you go to town on one of my bitches anytime you want, if you keep givin’ him lessons. I was thinkin’ computer programmers is a bunch of nerds, right? Prolly a virgin, gonna teach Jerembee all kinda shit if he get some nice pussy.”
Madhu shook his head. “That’s gross. And I’m not a virgin. You’re taking advantage of those women.”
“Shut up.”
Madhu’s heart started pounding as he wondered if this meant he was going to get a chance to handle Perry’s meat. He blushed at the thought, and his eyes were inexorably drawn to the crotch of Perry’s crimson slacks. He’d noticed when Perry moved before, Madhu caught a glimpse of a massive bulge there.
Perry put his hands on his hips. “Well, fine, you got me,” he said. He wrinkled his nose. “Whatchoo want? You want me to jerk you off?”
“What? Really?” Madhu had thought maybe he could get a chance to swing on Perry’s cock — these ubermacho thugs sometimes let that happen, on the downlow, and Madhu was all too willing to keep it as downlow as they wanted. But he never thought Perry would be willing to bottom. He wasn’t even sure he had heard that correctly. “You want to bottom?”
“No.” He scoffed. “But I will. If it gets my brother the education he needs.”
“You know how to do it?”
“I can do anything, motherfucker,” he said. “I’m a pimp. You can’t be good at this job if you don’t know e’rything about dick. You gotta be willin’ to sacrifice. And I been locked up. So I done spent my turn on bottom before. Ain’t my preference, but if you’ll give Jerembee lessons, you can stick it in any hole you want, bitch.” He got on his knees, needing to stoop to reach Madhu’s dick.
“Wow, so you’ve done this before?”
“Just twice,” he said as he pulled down Madhu’s pants. “Not by choice. But you know, sometimes in prison the shitty-shit happens, and a nigga gotta bend over.” He was quick and unceremonious, like he just wanted to get this over with, to check the boxes that he had indeed handled Madhu’s dick. He put it one hand and gave it a few rough strokes. “And you best believe, if Perry is gonna give up the booty, it is gonna be fine indeed! I will show my own bitches up, they don’t act right, Madhu, if you can believe it, they do trifle, even though I try to teach ’em. You ever try to teach a woman?”
Madhu inhaled sharply and said, “No. Haven’t. Done. That.” He was still unsure if this was a trap or a trick, though he couldn’t imagine what the point would have been. He watched his dick spring free, already half-hard as much from nervousness as actual arousal. It throbbed in Perry’s hand.
He frowned distastefully at the sight of Madhu’s cock, as though he had been hoping it’d be smaller. He gave it a few long, slow strokes, and he looked up at Madhu as though expecting a big dramatic moan of desire. But Perry’s hand was thick and callused, and Madhu was only beginning to get into.
Madhu’s knees went weak, and he almost lost his balance. He gripped Perry’s thick arm muscles for support, which Perry frowned at but didn’t complain. He got both hands on Madhu’s meat now, one hand holding the root of his cock, the other expertly working the shaft. Despite the discomfort of his rough macho-man’s skin on Madhu’s sensitive dick, he was getting hard, slowly.
“I only did it in prison, when I ain’t have a choice… Cuz that’s just the way it is in there, and when you as sexy as me, you know… prison guards wanna take a whack at’cha. They only got millimeter peters though, mosta ’em, so I don’t count it, you feel me?” He leaned in. “Don’t tell nobody that, ‘specially not my brother.”
“Okay…” Madhu bit his lip. Precum was oozing out the tip of his dick now.
“You look kinda like a girl to begin with, so I’m already likin’ you better than the last one. That was a hairy-ass Italian dude. Smelled like a loaf of bread you forgot about in the backa the pantry.”
“Oh, okay,” Madhu said, holding his breath. He couldn’t really think about what was happening right now enough to formulate a more cogent response. Maybe Perry realized that, cuz he narrowed his eyes in Madhu’s direction.
Then, still kneeling in front of him, Perry opened his mouth. Madhu’s knees went weak again as his dick slipped into Perry’s mouth. He gripped Perry’s bright red fedora for support, holding him so tightly that the fedora fell off, and Madhu clutched Perry’s tight cornrows instead.
His dick got fully hard right away, as Perry’s tongue slicked spit up and down the shaft. Madhu was so shocked by what was happening that he could only look down at it as though it was a computer program that didn’t make any sense. Perry didn’t seem into it, but he didn’t seem to hate it either. He approached it like a non-vegan might eat a vegan lasagna when there was nothing else available. He frowned at it, but he slathered spit all along the shaft, and he didn’t stop to gag once.
Looked like he had to bite back a couple gags though.
Perry didn’t take his red and violet suit off, so his back muscles rippled beneath the fine cloth. He loudly suckled, clenching his throat every few seconds and sending waves of pleasure up Madhu’s spine. This day was not turning out at all like he expected.
“Oh, fuckin’ hell, Perry… Damn,” Madhu said, blushing at how exaggerated his reaction was. He twisted and gasped for air, and he leaned on Perry’s cornrowed head for support.
Perry didn’t stop to say anything, but he murmured around the cock in his throat. Madhu didn’t know what he said, all heard was a moist explosion of syllables. Perry’s grizzled chin scratched against Madhu’s thigh as he nuzzled his nose deep into Madhu’s crotch, and he produced so much spit it dripped onto the floor beneath him. His lips caressed Madhu’s shaft, so expertly that Madhu began to doubt that Perry was as ill-experienced as he had suggested.
Precum leaked down Perry’s throat. He gurgled and made a sour face when he tasted it, but it didn’t slow him down any. Perry grabbed ahold of Madhu’s bare asscheeks, slapping them as though appreciating their plump roundness, even if he couldn’t see them from his position.
Since Perry was so tall, he had to bend way over to get his head in Madhu’s crotch. That meant his broad, strapping back was laid out in front of Madhu. He leaned forward and slipped his hands underneath Perry’s clothes, caressing the man’s smooth, ropy-muscled back.
A humming, moaning sound came from Perry’s throat. He pushed his head all the way down, until his nose was buried in Madhu’s pubic hair. His throat clenched as he gagged out loud for the first time, then pulled away and spat on the floor of Madhu’s kitchen. Madhu was too intensely horny to care about the mess on his floor.
Avoiding eye contact with Madhu, Perry pushed his head between Madhu’s legs — his head was so big it barely fit, and Madhu had to spread his feet to accommodate him. Then Perry swallowed Madhu’s entire ballsack.
The sensitive skin of Madhu’s scrotum tingled, and his knees went weak again. He murmured to himself as he slowly sank to the ground, hips mounting Perry’s face. Since Perry had to struggle to lower his head under Madhu’s crotch, it was easier for him to just lay on his back anyway.
Lifting his balls, Madhu aimed his cock back for Perry’s mouth again. He swallowed it down greedily, as though he enjoyed it even as he gagged at the onrush of salty precum hitting his tongue. Perry was tall, with a big mouth and a cavernous throat, and he swallowed Madhu’s cock easily.
Madhu leaned forward as though to start sixty-nining, but he was nowhere’s near tall enough to actually jerk Perry off. He snuck his hands beneath those violet slacks and stroked his dick, which was, much to Madhu’s surprise, already hard as stone.
They continued like that, faux sixty-nining until Perry slapped Madhu’s perky brown asscheeks. Madhu pulled away, and Perry took a deep gasping breath. He sat up and frowned at Madhu. “How was that?”
“That was… amazing…” Madhu said, looking down at his feet. He was shocked once again as he saw Perry turn around and pull his slacks down. Perry bared his asscheeks, still keeping his shirt, tie and suit jacket on, just lifting them all up enough to show off his plump brown asscheeks.
“I always tell my bitches I could handle dick better than them. Pity they’ll never know. You best not tell no one about this,” Perry said. He thought for a moment. “He gonna ask me when I tell him about this. He gonna want to know if I’m payin’ you.”
“Uh, well…”
“You like niggas? I tell him I gave you Mackdog. He got that disease that make him white, just a bit on his leg. Tell him that.”
“Vitiligo?”
“That’s it, he got that and the biggest dick you ever seen. I ain’t ashamed to admit he packin’ more meat than me. He don’t know how to use it though, and he mess around wit’ any kinda nigga on the downlow. So you tell him you rammed Mackdog. Jerembee will get a laugh outta that,” Perry said, turning his head back to see Madhu. “I’ll tell Mackdog to back it up. He don’t care, he’s a animal.”
“Okay. Mackdog, yeah.”
Madhu felt tiny behind Perry, who was broad-shouldered and wide-assed. He had big round cheeks that Madhu had to stretch on his toes to reach, even with Perry on all fours. As soon as his finger touched the rim, Perry’s hole puckered. He winced even before anything penetrated him.
“You want me to lick your ass first?” Madhu asked.
“Hell yeah, sissy,” Perry said. “If’n you eat ass, eat away. I ain’t nevuh turn down a rimjob.”
Madhu got on his knees and dove in. He loved giving rimjobs, and he especially loved smooth black assholes like Perry’s. He ran his tongue through the asscrack, collecting all the sweat that dripped there. Perry had an intensely masculine musk, with a faintly chocolate flavor which Madhu thought of as the taste of the cocoa butter lotion most black men used.
Then his tongue plunged in to that musty dark hole. Perry lifted his head up and howled, his pride returning now that he wasn’t jerking cock. His body undulated as Madhu lapped at his ass.
Perry’s back arched as he grunted. It sounded like he hadn’t really expected this to feel that good. Madhu was proud of his rimjobbery skills and he beamed, not that anyone could see it. He inhaled noisily. Perry made a proudful sort of moan, and his cock throbbed — Perry was glad to be dominant for at least part and he rubbed his asshole all over Madhu’s face.
He made sure to lick loudly and messily. Madhu loved the sight of a man with spit dripping down his ass, some of it even sliding all the way through his taint and into the messy nest of sweaty pubic hair at the base of his balls. A few drops of that assy saliva even dribbled into the seat of Perry’s nice slacks, which were around his ankles. Madhu hoped he wasn’t going to be furious about that when he saw it later — he seemed like the kind of pimp who hated getting his clothes dirty.
“Ah, damn, you sure you ain’t black, boi? Cuz you eat ass like a nigga!” Perry said loudly. He slapped his hand on the floor as he said it. “Alright then, whiteboi, time to stick it in me. You be gentle, ya hear?”
“Yeah, I will. Just tell me to stop if it hurts too much,” Madhu said.
Perry grumbled as though he didn’t want to do that. Madhu got the impression he didn’t like to show pain. But Perry got back up on all fours and spread his perfectly round asscheeks. His hole twinkled, beckoning Madhu with its temporary looseness.
Madhu stood back up on his toes, slipping the tip of his dick in before Perry’s ass had time to tighten back up after the rimjob. Perry bit his lip and grunted.
Pleasure shot through Madhu’s body like a bullet. He worked his dick in inch by inch, smiling as he saw Perry wince and try to pretend he didn’t feel any pain, or even pleasure. He stayed as stoic as he could, stone-facing there on all fours, his muscles all tensing and relaxing in sync with the thrusts of Madhu’s cock into his ass. The pleasure was even more shameful for him, it seemed, than the vulnerability he showed when he writhed in agony. Behind that agony was the bliss he didn’t dare acknowledge out loud.
But his dick couldn’t lie — or at least, it didn’t lie, as Madhu noticed when he reached around Perry’s body to his cock and stroked it, rock-hard despite the meat in his ass. Perry grunted and held his head down.
Madhu felt his orgasm grow and grow, and though he wanted to delay it, this was too arousing to stop himself. He didn’t know how long he humped there, slamming his dick in and out, smiling as Perry grimaced with every thrust of his hips. It could have lasted for a minute, it could have lasted for hours, Madhu would have had no idea.
Perry squeezed and clenched. He grunted heavily as he endured the pain, but his ass remained loose and his cock pulsated in Madhu’s fingers — it was clear that a part of Perry enjoyed this, he just didn’t want to admit it.
“Uh, god, yeah, give it to me, nigga…”
Muscles writhing beneath the colorful suit he had never taken off, Perry’s grunts of agony turned to gasps of pleasure. His dick leaked precum into Madhu’s fingers as those thick veins in the shaft throbbed with sexual desire. Madhu could feel the cum flowing before he actually shot his load.
They both came at nearly the same time, Madhu just a few seconds earlier. He sprayed his load within Perry, coating his insides in creamy goodness. It was the most intense orgasm of his life, wracking Madhu’s body with uncontrollable pleasure. He bit his lip so hard he drew blood.
Then, without taking his dick out of Perry’s ass, Madhu reached both hands around Perry’s hips. He used both hands to stroke him off, faster and faster as Perry panted heavily. He could already feel the cum flowing, and he could sense through his body when Perry’s balls crawled up in his sac.
At last Perry shot his own load, Madhu’s cock still throbbing limply in his clenched ass. Cum spurted out all over Madhu’s hands, dripping down and onto the floor. Perry writhed in that suit, which was now soaked with sweat and matted against his skin in a few spots — hopefully that meant he wouldn’t notice the stains in the crotch of his pants, Madhu thought.
He pulled out and Perry breathed a sigh of relief. Madhu had him roll over on his back, with Madhu’s cum-coated hand still elevated. Perry winced when he saw it, but he reached for it just the same. He knew exactly what Madhu wanted to do.
He and Madhu both licked it clean, Madhu enthusiastically tonguing every drop, while Perry gagged and choked it down. He sucked on Madhu’s fingers and even let Madhu’s cum-filled mouth kiss him on the lips. It was only when Madhu pushed his luck by trying to put his tongue in Perry’s mouth that Perry pulled away. His smile faded to a sneer.
“Nah, no kissing,” he said. He flopped his dick back into his underwear and pulled his pants up. He finished the last of the drink he had poured for himself, then picked up the bottle of bourbon and chugged from that.
“Thanks, Perry, that was amazing,” Madhu said, blushing. He sounded like a fanboy who finally got to be with his idol, he thought to himself. He tried to stand nonchalantly but failed and just looked awkward. “You’ve got an incredible cock and ass and body.” He thought he should try to puff up Perry’s ego a bit before he left, or who knew how he might overcompensate.
“I know, sissy. Every thing I do, no matter what, it’s always amazin’. That’s the Perry guarantee,” he said, slowly regaining his pimpy cockiness. He even danced a little on his feet. He licked his teeth. “I’m takin’ the resta this bourbon. It’s nice.”
“Oh, well, I’ll do whatever you want if you keep comin’ back,” Madhu said.
“So you’ll teach him?” Perry asked. “I’ll keep coming over every month, as long as you’re still tutorin’ him.”
“We have a deal,” Madhu said.
He smiled and put his fedora back on. “See ya next month then, sissy. Buy lube. And more bourbon.”
Slim Jay is a hardcore pimp who don’t take no guff from nobody, and that includes his hos, his neighbors and anyone else he meets! That all might change when he meets a twinky young man named Sammy, who sends Slim Jay’s heart a-thumping!
But Slim Jay’s got a rep to maintain! Can he get his rocks off with Sammy without losing face?!
She had a open-face pussy as loose as free beer and big bouncy titties you just knew she been letting mad niggas suck on.
She had a open-face pussy as loose as free beer and big bouncy titties you just knew she been letting mad niggas suck on. You could virtually see the trashy-nigga toothmarks around the tits. Most likely, she was one of Slim Jay’s hos. He always got girls on each arm, and they was usually kinda nasty. She cooed all slut-like, in a way that made Tyrell’s cock throb and ache.
From Tyrell the Ex-Con
Davon is a thug and pimp who goes to prison and emerges as a devout religious convert!
Descriptions
Davon was also a mud-color darkskin prettyboy with teeth like a skeleton and lips made for kissing buttflaps. He was a jubilous talkalot who pretended to pal with people like a pushy puppy. Already he be pimping palms with honkies and addressing ’em like he knew ’em. “There you is, welcome back! Love to see ya, sohn! You keepin’ it real… Scott.” He got they names off they idees as he checked ’em, but he pretended he remembered ’em. In return, they all pretended to be charmed by him. Thumper done hung out with farts that was more interesting than that nothing-muffin. His forgettable six-pack and baby-clean name-brand jeans stretched a teaspoon of charismatic gravy over two hundred fifty pounds of that nigga’s salisbury steak. If niggas was books, Davon’d be a romance novel fulla correctly spelled words. Davon was a sea of smiles and dimples, the velveeta of niggas, like a cushion and a cloud didn’t bake a cake, and that cake was sugar-free, fat-free, declawed, defanged and stuffed with puffs of nothingness. That nigga gladhanded every one them no-hoot pecker-toters who lined up to exercise they stiffies in Lipsweet.
The difference between Thumper and Davon — aside from the obvious ones — was that Davon got no problem saying all the fool-ass shit the world want him to say. He do stick to the lines he been given, and he wanna be nice to everyone in case they got more lines to give him in the future.
He bin talking about his girl like he expected Thumper to care and be jealous and wanna know the details, but Thumper weren’t gonna give him the satisfaction. Davon done pause his lifting as he raised his eyebrows at Thumper. He was muscled, but he was polished like glass — you could tell he never used them muscles for nothing but impressing females. If a nigga gonna lift, he oughta lift proper. Be the nigga you is pretending to be.
Davon wore a lor band-aid on his cheekbones. Nigga musta got a rainbow of band-aids cuz he steady wore one to match the drawers he displayed under his sagging jeans — Mr. Gregarian was mad on the “trousers” trip and curled his lip at sagging, but Davon could smile through any of Mr. Gregarian’s tut-tuts. So Davon rumped pink drawers tonight and a pink band-aid to match. Thumper ain’t even got the words to call that out.
Davon, who showed up like a smooth sac of pointless dimples, smiling at everything but responding to nothing, like he ran outta reality, looking like a charred koala bear, shit, he just sat there, like a boatload of cuteness collided with a glacier of too-good-for-this and went down in a sea of swooning females. He got on a shiny shirt with like Chinese letters or some shit all over it, like Davon was too handsome for the English alphabet. He wore a white band-aid on his cheek too. As if he’d ever risk letting his cheekbone get cut.
Davon ain’t stick around, cuz he gotta go home and polish his dimples. He prolly got honkies to suck up to and women to agree with. Or maybe he worked at Lipsweet tonight. Anyway, Thumper still be hating on him till he walked out the door. His drawers was plain white tonight, as was his band-aid, but you could tell them drawers was some name-brand, prolly something Italian, bet they cost a pretty penny and he’d throw ’em away if they ever get a skidmark, goddamn, he too good to fart. Thumper ain’t gonna fixate on that nigga though. Not when he got a young pretty thing like Rico to touch all over. Rico be mad on that frown train, choo choo! His frown made his muscles pucker and ripple and shine! Davon wouldn’t never allure a nigga, that was the difference between him and Rico.
Frowning was hard for Davon, this smile-a-minute fluffernutter man, the kinda muscle-bound plasticy stack of dimples who young women went crazy for and older men want to strangle.
From Max the Beach Bum
Tonight working the door was Davon. Simon’s eyes kept getting drawn to him because he had a big jolly grin and a rambunctious laugh, and he wore very colorful clothes for a bouncer — a lime green doo rag, matching shirt with Japanese lettering and even a tiny band-aid over a scar on his left cheek that was also the same lime green color. He always wore a color-coordinated outfit, including that mini-band-aid. The other bouncers and Simon’s dad hated it.
Nobody could deny that Davon was correct though: girlies loved it. Girls threw themselves after him. It was the dimples, Simon thought. Girls went mad for dimples. They were handsome, he had to admit, he enjoyed looking at a man with dimples. But they weren’t that special. Lots of guys had dimples.
They didn’t make a guy cute, trustworthy or nice. That was what Simon had deduced over the years. Dimples overwhelmed other shortcomings. His friend Kendra had dated a guy for months, only to admit after they broke up that he had been a jerk who stole from her and hit on her mother — he had seemed nice at heart, she said, because he had dimples. She assumed his kind soul would eventually reveal itself.
He tried not to stare at Davon, but it was hard to avoid. He didn’t want to look at the girls, after all. Davon was thick and powerful, and so big he had to duck to get into the building. His arms bulged. His smile was infectious, his dimples so deep you could fall in. He had a laugh that just made you want to laugh along with him, even if you hadn’t heard the joke.
Davon was perfectly smooth and symmetrical, except for that scar on his cheek covered up by the color-coordinated band-aid. He must reapply that after every shower. And he must have them in every color, since he changed it every day to match his outfit.
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