The Apia Alpha

When Lance goes through a bad breakup, he never thought his neighbor the Samoan rugby player would console him like this! That’s because Poahi wants to explore the world of twink on top!

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Lance had smoked weed a few times but not often, and he had never enjoyed it. It sometimes gives him a headache, and sometimes he doesn’t even get really stoned, just sleepy. It just wasn’t his bag. He never sought it out until today.
And even that was only because he was upset. His girlfriend dumped him, completely out of the blue. Lance cried himself to sleep as he wondered if he’d be forever truly alone. In the morning, he woke up and immediately decided he wanted to get high. Maybe that, he thought, would put him in a good mood. It helped that his only easy source of weed was smoking with his neighbor, which had its perks.
Lance’s neighbor was a massively muscular man with an excellent physique that Lance often admired. He was Poahi, a Samoan immigrant who had played professional rugby for half a season before getting kicked off the team for failing a drug test — rugby fans called him the “Titan of Apia”, referring to the capital city of Samoa. Poahi didn’t care, it seemed, rugby was his ticket to an American work visa, which he now had and could use. Now that he was here, he had little need for rugby. He was nearly seven feet tall, brimming with muscle and swagger. But he wasn’t cocky at all, he was just confident in his body and his masculinity, and he was stoned all the time.
That was not an exaggeration. Lance smelled weed wafting into his apartment from next-door about twenty minutes after Poahi first moved in. He literally hadn’t moved anything in besides his bong and a lighter. He was taking bong hits before he had a chair to sit in.
And now for the first time in his life, Lance wanted to join him in that.
He wondered if that was a sign of a burgeoning addiction, but he didn’t care, he just wanted to feel better. That was why, this morning, he waited to hear the sounds of Poahi getting up — he always had a cup of tea first thing in the morning, and Lance could hear his kettle whistle.
When he heard that shrill whistle, Lance went over and knocked on the door.
“Hey, hā, mate,” Poahi said, bleary-eyed from his early morning rise (it was nine o’clock, which for Poahi was very early). He wore nothing but a pair of shorts and sandals, his gigantic chest heaving as he drank coconut milk from the carton. A few driblets of coconut milk ran down his powerful torso. He was nearly seven feet tall, so Lance had to crane his neck to make eye contact with him.
“Suzanne dumped me!” Lance hadn’t meant to blurt that out and come across as an overly emotional weakling.
Poahi was definitely uncomfortable. He ran his fingers through his thick curly hair, which he let grow into an unmanageably dense Polynesian-afro. He frowned, his jovial brownness suddenly awkward and tense. But despite his obvious desire to get away from this conversation, he did submit to listening as Lance explained — in entirely too many words — the entire course of his relationship with Suzanne, which had ended badly yesterday. Poahi acted as though this was the first time he’d heard of Suzanne, which was incorrect. His memory was subpar.
“And so apparently she was still mad about all that stupid bullshit drama from like a year ago!”
“Oh, uh, wow, I’m sorry to hear that. Shitty as, mate,” Poahi said. His lilting accent was deep and resonant, rumbling on account of his huge body and low voice. He had that typical alpha-male reluctance to acknowledge any feelings, so he stood awkwardly in his doorway. He leaned against the threshold clutching a now-empty carton of coconut milk in his hand. It was a huge bottle, but since his hand was so big it looked miniature to Lance’s eyes.
“I was just… I could use some weed,” Lance said. “I don’t feel like getting a prescription. And I’ll probably just do it one time, just today, so there’s no point in buying a bong myself or anything.”
“Oh, you want some weed?” He sounded a little unsure, like he didn’t want to give it up.
“I, uh… I’ll pay for it,” he said. “And I’d like you to show me how. I mean, I know sort of. But not really.”
Poahi nodded and shrugged. “Okay,” he said. “Come on in. I was just about to wake-and-bake, mate.”
He had a typical bachelor apartment. His clothes were scattered over the floor — and they were huge clothes since he was a giant, so they took up a lot of space. His living room was dominated by a weight set, which smelled of sweat, and the zesty funk of it made Lance aroused. Lance adored the male form, and Poahi’s form was highly appreciable. Poahi had to stoop to fit his bigness through the doorway, and his body was so broad he barely fit in his kitchen.
As Poahi finished putting together his breakfast in the kitchen, Lance told him all about the breakup. It didn’t sound like Poahi was listening, but it felt good to say it all out loud regardless. Verbalizing problems had a way of putting them in perspective.
Poahi ate five eggs and six links of sausage for breakfast, and he finished another entire bottle of coconut milk. He ate like an athlete too, shoveling food in his mouth as though it was going to escape if he didn’t eat quickly. He smacked his lips and chewed with his mouth open, snorting as he swallowed like a feral hog, as though it took every muscle in his cavernous body to eat. He listened — or pretended to listen — as Lance told him stories of the better times between him and Suzanne.
When Poahi was done eating, he looked significantly more awake and less bleary-eyed. He sat down on his ratty old couch, tossing an enormous pair of jeans aside to make room for himself. He grabbed a tall green glass bong, which was shaped like a dancing hula lady.
He pointed to the hitter, which was still packed up from the night before. “Okay, you light this bit right here as you inhale from the bong part, then when your lungs are starting to feel full, put the lighter down and pull the stem out — that’s what you call this bit, the stem — and inhale the last of the smoke that’s in the shaft.” He demonstrated. It looked simple when he did it.
Lance shivered with sexual tension. He was horny because of the recent breakup and because Poahi’s physique was in even condition than usual today. He looked like he had recently gotten a pump on, even though he just got up moments ago. The fluid movement of his muscles as he inhaled was arousing, as though it took every ounce of strength he had to light and inhale from the bong. He pursed his lips as he took his bong hit, like he was kissing the smoke inside the bong.
He passed the bong to Lance, holding the breath in his lungs for what felt like a long time — maybe normal for such a big man, but it sure seemed incredible to Lance. The fragrant smell of weed filled the room when he finally exhaled. A long puff of smoke filled the air.
Lance had taken precisely one bong hit in his life before this. He had embarrassed himself at a party by not knowing how to do it many years before. But he had seen it a million times since then, mainly when visiting Suzanne’s brother, who was a daily smoker. Suzanne loved her brother hated weed, which was why they had never partaken together.
He coughed before taking the bong away from his mouth, which meant he spewed bong water through the stem. It sprayed over the multi-stained couch.
“Whoah, party foul, mate,” Poahi said, though he didn’t really seem all that concerned. “Take a small hit, since it is your first time and you are small.” He held up his hand with two of his fingers about a half-inch apart.
Astringent tears twinkled in Lance’s eyes — this weed was much harsher than that bong hit he had taken before, and it was way stronger than the handful of joints he had smoked with a former girlfriend. The taste was acrid and intense.
But it wasn’t bad. It hurt his lungs, but he did feel a mental lightening.
Lance tried again, this time barely lighting the weed for a second before pulling the lighter away. He managed to finish the hit, and he got a lungful of smoke. He sighed as he exhaled. This one was much smoother, smaller, less painful. He felt like he manipulated the bong correctly.
“Hold the smoke in as long as you can,” Poahi said, taking the bong back from him. He emptied the hitter and packed it up. As he did, he smiled at Lance’s watery eyes and pained expression. “That hurt, man?”
“A bit.”
“Good. That means you will get real high,” Poahi said in his pitchy Samoan accent. “It’ll make you forget all about that Suzanne, mate. Fuck her.”
Lance burst into a sob that he tried to hold back a sob, and he blushed. He really wasn’t crying because he was so emotional, it was mainly the weed in his eyes and the potent smoke still in his lungs, though the reminder of the breakup didn’t help. But it must have looked to Poahi like he had made Lance cry.
“Oh, sorry, mate. I should not have said anything.”
“No, no problem, it’s okay,” Lance said. “I don’t even really care, not really. I was thinking about dumping her anyway. I just feel like an idiot for not realizing this was coming. Have you ever felt like that?”
Poahi shook his head as he took a hit. Then, with his lungs still full, his voice deep yet nasal, he said, “I have never been dumped, not by a serious girlfriend or anything.”
“Really?”
“Nope. Only person who ever dumped me and made me cry was… well, I was young then.”
“High school sweetheart?” Lance took the bong and lit it. This time his hit was much more practiced and fluid, and he coughed, but wasn’t in a lot of pain. It didn’t look so amateurish.
“Sort of. I was in school, back in Apia. She wasn’t, she was older,” Poahi said. He paused as though there was more to the story that he wasn’t saying.
“Did you love her?”
“No,” he said as though the answer should have been obvious. “She was… A lot of the guys in my school rammed her.”
“Ah. So she was kind of a slut?”
He shrugged. “I guess so. It wasn’t like that. She was…” Poahi sighed. “She was a fa’afinafe.”
“… What?”
“It’s a Samoan thing. She was a, well… We call her a woman. But she was really a man,” he said as he exhaled. “She was…”
“A man who lived as a woman?”
“Yeah. We call them fa’afafine. Her name was Kekepovi, and I felt alofa for her,” Poahi said. “Do not tell no one, okay? Only Polys understand.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that. Nobody knows how to make a cock feel better than someone who has one,” Lance said. He declined his next bong hit, as his head was already swimming. He smiled. He felt much better now, and the breakup felt like the distant past.
“Hell yeah.” Poahi took one more big hit to finish the weed off in the stem, then put the bong down. “Can I tell you a secret? Something not even other Polys understand?”
“Okay.”
Poahi exhaled a huge plume of bluish smoke. He sighed with satisfaction. “Uh… She jerked me off a lot. And I put it in her ass.”
“Okay… That’s kinda what I assumed happened.”
“But that is not all. She…” He blushed and averted his eyes.
“She plowed you too?”
He winced. “Don’t put it like that.”
“Oh, sorry. I mean… she made love to you too.”
He wrinkled his nose. “Bloody hell, don’t put it like that either.”
“Sorry.”
“But yeah,” he shifted his weight on his couch.
“I know.”
“But it wasn’t bad.”
“Poahi… Do you want to do it again?” Lance asked. He didn’t really think too much about the question, he just saw an opportunity and went for it. He assumed Poahi was going to say no, and Lance was all set to pretend he had just been kidding.
But then Poahi did not say no.
There was a long pause. Poahi blushed and looked away, more bashful than Lance had ever seen him. He put down the bong and the lighter.
“I, uh… Just cuz you are so upset over the breakup,” Poahi said. “And you are so small, like she was. She was little too. Sorry, I mean… You are-” He snorted and pulled his shorts down without another word, revealing a huge cock, thick and jiggly with fat. It was uncut and veiny. “I never say no to starting the day with a nut.” A long throaty chuckle came outta his mouth.
Lance dropped to his knees, wanting to get started before Poahi changed his mind. Guys with a physique like Poahi never backed out once they got hard, he knew that from experience. He kissed the tip of Poahi’s cock, which instantly twitched against his lips.
“Aaah, yes, mate…” Poahi grumbled, and his bare chest muscles rippled. As Lance slurped on the tip of his dick, Poahi picked up his bong and took a long deep hit.
When he exhaled, letting out a long plume of smoke like a train engine, Lance licked a trail from the tip to the root of Poahi’s manhood. The taste was sunny and musty at the same time, reeking of Poahi’s unwashed manhood and his ratty old bachelor sheets.
“Ah, yeah…”
His dick twitched and swelled to attention beneath Lance’s lips, as Lance sent his hands creeping up Poahi’s bare chest to those gigantic, rugby-toned pecs, each one the size of volleyballs. His nipples puckered at his touch. His flesh was firm as rocks beneath his smooth skin.
Poahi leaned back on the couch and groaned, still holding the bong in one hand and his lighter in the other. He spread his legs so Lance could crawl between them. Poahi was so tall that the couch was awkward for him, and his ass barely fit on the cushion at all. Most of his chest and back extended above the back of the couch, and his knees angled up like he was in a booster seat.
His tongue slurping down Poahi’s fat, throbbing shaft, Lance moved lower and lower. He teased the root of Poahi’s sweaty cock. Then Lance let both of his big sweaty balls fall into his mouth, and he suckled loudly on them. He wasn’t entirely sure what Poahi was agreeing to, so Lance took it slow as he removed his own clothes. Poahi either didn’t notice or didn’t care.
Did Poahi really mean it when he said “she” plowed him up the ass? That didn’t sound right. Maybe it was a translation problem, Lance thought, maybe that meant something different in Samoan.
But he wasn’t going to tempt fate by asking. Poahi had a marvelous manhood, and Lance was willing to do whatever with it that Poahi would agree to.
“Come on, let us sixty-nine,” Poahi said, sliding to lay on his back on the couch. He didn’t even come close to fitting — the entire length of his legs were raised to drape over the foot of the couch, and his head was still jammed up against the other end. It didn’t look particularly comfortable for him, but then he was so tall, he was probably used to furniture not fitting him, Lance thought as he climbed aboard the man’s mountainous chest. His muscles rippled beneath Lance’s body.
Lance giggled. “Uh… You were with that fay-aff-in-a-ffay when you were a lot shorter, huh?”
“Oh, yeah,” Poahi said, realizing the problem — Lance was much too short to sixty-nine with Poahi. If Lance jerked Poahi’s cock, his own crotch would be above Poahi’s chest, lower than the nipples even, nowhere’s near close enough for Poahi to touch his dick.
But Lance thought it would be fun to try — he did want to swallow Poahi’s cock some more, and this would be a good first step to getting his dick in Poahi’s mouth, he thought. Poahi could get comfortable touching dick without having to really do much with it.
He mounted Poahi’s broad chest and took the tip of his cock in his mouth. Lance played with the head as he ground his cock between Poahi’s cavernous pecs. He let his spit dribble down Poahi’s long manhood, which was even bigger than it looked. It smelled of coconut and sea salt, and Lance’s mouth watered as he sucked it down as deep as he could get.
“Hmmm…”
Poahi growled and smacked his ass. He let his pinkie finger travel between Lance’s cheeks until it pushed into his asshole. Lance bent his back and moaned. His finger felt so good inside Lance that he was unable to focus on swallowing dick, so he just flopped its shaft against his face and panting tongue.
When Poahi spread his legs a bit and scooted his ass far as it would go to bare his hole, Lance got the impression he wanted Lance to finger his ass as well, but was too embarrassed to say it. So Lance didn’t stop licking on that massive meat as he crept his finger between Poahi’s sweaty thighs and past his hairy taint. His massive legs raised like wind turbines above Lance, who slurped spit all up and down Poahi’s shaft and his hefty ballsac.
Poahi had to lift his hips up a bit, but soon Lance was able to get his own index finger in the hole. As soon as he did, Poahi grunted and arched his back. Lance gripped both sides of his broad barrel belly as he jerked on that veiny brown shaft. Poahi’s ass was so thick and broad that Lance’s entire wrist fit between his cheeks just to get the tip of his finger in his hole.
“Uh, yeah, mate, that’s nice as…” Poahi said, his chest muscles quivering. Lance leaked precum between those meaty pecs, which he humped slowly — titty-fucking him, in a sense, Lance thought. Poahi actually had enough pec muscle that Lance could sort of do that.
It reminded him of Suzanne though, so Lance didn’t say anything. She fingered his ass too. He was into that, and she was willing to put up with it. She pretended she liked it, but she didn’t really like anything sexual. Lance was pretty sure she was asexual and was just willing to put up with sex if it was necessary. That was why she was willing to do most anything — none of it was any more or less appealing to her, so she might as well agree to whatever Lance wanted to do. What Lance wanted to do was have a woman who wanted to have sex.
And he wanted a man with a physique like Poahi on the side. Or in the relationship even! Lance didn’t care, he was fine with polyamory. But he worked for a staid accounting firm. It would be scandalous for him to do anything that wasn’t passionless penis-in-vagina sex, horizontal, in a bed with the lights off at night.
Lance and Poahi both lay there fingering each other. Lance writhed above the towering Polynesian’s body, which was big enough he could explore it for hours. He had had a six-pack when he was a professional athlete, but he wasn’t in training right now, so he had just a hint of flab over his otherwise flat belly. That was just enough for Lance, who didn’t like his men too chiseled. A physique was better when it had some heft to it.
It was apparent that Poahi liked prostate play more than Lance would have guessed. He gasped and grunted as he spread his own cheeks to help Lance get in there. When he tasted precum, Lance knew it was time to try something else before Poahi shot his load. Lance pulled off him and stood.
Much to his surprise, Poahi leaned off the couch, took Lance’s cock in hand and licked it. He winced and gagged a little but didn’t slow down as he deep-throated. He had a nice, loose throat that easily swallowed every inch of Lance’s meat. He showed no reaction as he gulped it down, sending a wave of pleasure up Lance’s spine. Poahi’s nose nuzzled Lance’s crotch.
“Oh, damn, Poahi, you really did learn a lot from that, f’af’a… f’affinafe?…”
“Fa’afafine.” He pulled off, still showing no reaction, even as his mouth overflowed with spit and the goopy cream of Lance’s precum.
Lance had intended to sit on his dick, but after Poahi returned to sucking down Lance’s cock, Poahi got off the couch. He had to stoop all the way down until he was nearly laying on the floor to line his mouth up with Lance’s dick. Lance gripped his rippling shoulder muscles as his knees went weak, bliss rushing up his body and his face blushed bright red.
But then Poahi pulled away and turned around, splaying his legs apart and spreading his asscheeks with both hands. Lance’s heart pounded as he realized he was going to get to plow Poahi.
That was not a mistranslation. That was what Poahi wanted. Lance’s eyes bugged out, already on the verge of orgasm.
“Stick it in me, mate…”
Lance pushed the tip of his dick in, and he sighed as warmth suffused his body. He couldn’t believe his luck in getting this gigantic bear, so soon after getting his heart broken. Poahi was tight and his whole body shook as Lance penetrated him.
His asshole was warm and tight, and it squeezed Lance’s manhood. Both of them gasped. Lance felt exquisite sensations wracking his body, and it took all of his concentration not to cum alredy.
He gasped and said something in Samoan as Lance began pushing his dick in and out. Again, Poahi’s size worked to his advantage — he simply had a large enough asshole that it didn’t seem to hurt all that much. His broad cheeks jiggled with each thrust of Lance’s dick. Poahi moaned, a low, deep sound — he was trying to keep his voice quiet, but he was the kind of person who had no whisper, not even when he was moaning.
Lance’s hands crept around Poahi’s body. He had to strain to reach Poahi’s crotch due to the man’s enormous size, but as soon as he did, Poahi twitched. His cock oozed precum in Lance’s grip.
Poahi’s back bucked as intense pleasure ran up his spine, and Lance ran his finger along to match the pre-orgasmic bliss. Lance kissed his muscles as he worked the last of his dick in, pushing it in and out.
They were moving in sync now. Poahi lost all of his alpha-male awkwardity, and his body writhed along with Lance’s gyrations. It felt like a comical mismatch, Lance thought, since Poahi was preposterously huge in comparison with him. Even on his knees, Poahi had to stoop and Lance had to stretch on his toes to get his cock in Poahi’s ass.
But the awkwardity of the positioning didn’t slow Lance down any. He grunted along with Poahi as they both reached orgasm at once.
Cum sprayed over Lance’s fingers and onto the couch beneath Poahi’s spasming body. Meanwhile Lance’s own load filled up Poahi’s ass with his creamy goodness. Poahi again said something in Samoan, an outpouring of vowels and sonorants that echoed in his small apartment.
Poahi’s muscles tensed and flexed all at once, the intricate agate-colored lines tattooed over his biceps and half of his torso rippling as he contorted. He groaned and bit his lip. Lance kneaded the meaty flesh of his chest.
“Yeah, mate…”
Lance sighed and pulled out. He used his thumb to rub Poahi’s sensitive rim, pushing the cum back in when it started to ooze out. With every centimeter he inserted, Poahi flopped over the couch and gripped the cushion. His coconut-colored skin writhed, sweat dappling his forehead and neck.
“Ah, god, fa’afetai, that was even better than before,” Poahi said. Then he blushed and said quickly, “I mean… I hope you feel better now, about the breakup.” Poahi sighed and leaned back. Lance kissed each of his nipples, and Poahi again bucked. He leaned up to kiss Lance on the lips.
“Thanks, Poahi. I really do,” Lance said.

Warriors need a woman to come home to

Koa was big and tough, brimming with machismo and power, all traits that women here liked — but he was too much of all those things. He was so big he’d hurt any woman he was with, and he was too crude to be seductive or charming. But he was exactly the kind of man whom Makana liked.

“I… I had no one here for me when I returned from battle. There was no one to clean me and to apply salve to my wounds. Warriors need a woman to come home to.” His voice rang out as deep as the moon. “A woman to mourn them if they fall in battle.”

Koa was big and tough, brimming with machismo and power, all traits that women here liked — but he was too much of all those things. He was so big he’d hurt any woman he was with, and he was too crude to be seductive or charming. But he was exactly the kind of man whom Makana liked.

From The Hawaiian Warrior

The Hawai’ian Warrior

In pre-contact Hawai’i, Makana is a gentle young man, which means the other islanders assume massive warrior Koa would only come to him for a little oral service… But Koa wants to try something totally different!

This Hawai’ian alpha male is about to go twink on top!

The warriors had come back from Ni’ihau earlier today, victorious, with the blood of their enemies still clotting in their hair, running in rivers down their tattooed chests. That was why the day had been exciting, for everyone, warrior or no.
But now the day was done, the feast was had, the ancestors were thanked and Makana was home.
Looking out the opening in the sides of his hale noa, Makana’s cock twinged at sight of the warriors laughing on the beach. They were richly brown, backs lined with muscles, tattooed shoulders arching and flexing as they roughhoused and carried on. They were still pumped from the war party, that was why. It would take days for their jubilance to diminish.
One of the younger warriors glanced in Makana’s direction, saw his face watching with brilliant, flashing eyes, and then looked away and kicked sand towards the ocean. Makana waved when the warrior glanced this way again. He was cute — he had just faced down death and the island’s enemies, but still, he cast nervous glances in this direction.
The sun was going down, so Makana prepared his own evening meal. Dried fish in coconut. A few pieces of fruit. He felt lonely at nights these days, as he felt himself getting old, his joints aching, his sleepiness coming on earlier and earlier. The sun spent such short time in the sky.
But tonight that loneliness never came, even though he was alone; the island — Makana’s people — had shared a stressful experience and then a powerful release when the warriors returned with captives and treasure. He felt a kinship with everyone else here that he hadn’t felt recently. He felt united in purpose with his tribe.
“Hello, Makana…?” came a deep voice from outside his hale.
Makana peered around the edge of his hale and saw that sturdy-muscled young man. He had been bruised and bloodied in battle but was cleaned up now. His eye was blackened, nose flattened, one ear much swollen, the other lightly swollen. His worst injuries were on his right thigh, where the flesh was torn up by an enemy’s leiomano, a shark-toothed club. It was obvious he had been through a great struggle, and that his side may have won, but he barely survived. He limped but stonefaced through the pain. His leg was bandaged and poulticed, beset with herbs that would prevent infection.
His name was Koa, that same young man who was embarrassed when he waved at Makana earlier. This must have been his first battle, Makana thought, that was why he had been beat up so bad. And he had no woman, which was why he was playing on the beach even after the island’s other warriors had gone home to bed their wives.
“Hello, Koa,” Makana said. He emerged from his hale with a plain skin around his body. “Come in.” The evening was cool for this time of year, and the gentle sea-breeze blowing in borne on the waves felt invigorating on Makana’s skin.
Koa trembled as he entered the hale. His big body swayed with every step, muscles heaving up and down as if his heft beleaguered him. Koa was so broadly muscled that he took up most of the space in here and exuded heat that further filled the hale with a cozy air.
“What can I do for you, Koa?” Makana said, being pumehana and showing it in his voice.
“I, uh… I don’t have a woman,” he said. He was tall enough that his face was still aimed down at Makana, even when he hung his head. “There is no wife waiting for me.”
“That’s too bad,” Makana said. He led him to his bed in one corner of the hale.
“I… I had no one here for me when I returned from battle. There was no one to clean me and to apply salve to my wounds. Warriors need a woman to come home to.” His voice rang out as deep as the moon. “A woman to mourn them if they fall in battle.”
“Of course,” Makana said. “You deserve a wife.”
“I… had a woman whom I wanted to bed. But she has chosen someone else,” he said, as though that had been tough to admit. It shouldn’t have been — everyone already knew about that; if he had meant to keep it a secret, he had failed. Koa’s bare chest muscles rippled. “So… I am here.”
Makana nodded. He stood behind where Koa sat on the floor of his hale. Koa plopped himself on the cold stone ground, which Makana had swept clean today. Koa was so much taller than Makana that, even with him standing and Koa seated, Koa’s face was only a few inches above Makana’s head — his body from the waist up was nearly as tall as Makana’s entire frame. Koa lifted his head as Makana began rubbing his shoulders. He breathed in a deep sigh and then let it chamber out of him. There was great tension in his shoulders. “The other warriors, they say that you are… that you provide… sometimes… that you are available.”
“I am.”
“Available for things.”
“Indeed.”
“That girl, she was very pretty.” His shoulders tensed, then relaxed under Makana’s grasp. His muscles were firm as a polished pohaku and warm as a campfire pohaku. “The battle today… I have never seen a man die, not like that. I have seen the elderly die, and I have seen children die from sick,” he said. “But that is all. I have never seen a man I know well, a man I grew up with, laying dead on the beach. Blood poured from his head.” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “And then blood stopped pouring. I do not know if he ran out of blood, or… It just stopped.”
Makana kneaded Koa’s flesh, which was tired and tense. Makana did not know what to say and felt awkward at first, but the more he massaged the powerful muscles of Koa’s body, the less the awkwardness bothered him. It soon descended into a comfortable silence, and Makana no longer felt a need to say anything. The silence was sufficient. Koa groaned with an intense sound, like he had never felt anything as potent as Makana’s delicate fingers.
“When I returned… I wanted a woman to be there waiting for me. Not my mother. I would have give anything for a woman to be waiting for me, to take care of me,” Koa said. He repeated that again a few more times.
“I know, you said that, of course you wanted a woman. You fought bravely for your people. You deserve to have someone waiting for you when you return,” Makana said. He kissed the back of Koa’s neck and let his tongue explore the broad muscles of his shoulder. It was lined with dark blue tattoos — he’d have more tattoos in a day or two, since he had fought and won his first battle, but for now he had only a few lines outlining his shoulders and biceps, enhancing his natural curves. Makana kissed each of those lines, while his hands reached around to his chest.
His dick accidentally brushed against Koa’s back. Makana pulled away, hoping that didn’t scare him off — a lot of these big warriors were willing to mess around with Makana but didn’t want to touch his dick at all. Koa seemed like precisely that kind of man. He was big and tough, brimming with machismo and power, all traits that women here liked — but he was too much of all those things. He was so big he’d hurt any woman he was with, and he was too crude to be seductive or charming. But he was exactly the kind of man whom Makana liked.
But that brief contact with Makana’s dick didn’t seem to scare Koa at all. If he noticed, he didn’t let on. He continued to groan as Makana’s fingers massaged his broad chest. His skin was smooth in between his wounds and a few remnant scars he must have accumulated in training for battle. Makana clucked his tongue and worked his hands lower on Koa’s body.
“I wanted a woman to be there for me,” Koa said again, and he was maybe going to say it one more time when Makana put on finger on his lips to shush him.
When Koa sputtered, unable to think of a response, Makana laughed and pushed his finger into Koa’s mouth. After a moment of hesitation, Koa sucked on it. “It’s okay, huapala,” Makana said. “You’re much too big for most women anyway. Too many muscles.”
Koa blushed and smiled, his anxiety vanishing, replaced by boastfulness. He flexed his biceps and made his chest muscles ripple, which sent a thrill of desire through Makana. Makana’s heart sped up, and all of a sudden, his hale seemed smaller and more snug. Koa’s expansive frame puckered beneath Makana’s touch, as Makana’s lips caressed the curve of his muscled arms.
A few beads of sweat appeared on his shoulders and dripped down his side. Sweat of anticipation, not from warmth. That was how Makana knew that Koa was excited as well.
“Now that you have me, what did you wish to do?” Makana said, his voice as soft as his touch.
“I don’t know… I don’t know what I want,” Koa said. He looked down. “You must tell me what to do.”
Makana stepped in front of Koa, flaunting his bare ass, which gleamed in the dim light outside his hale. His self-consciousness about his lack of breasts didn’t bother him in this moment, as it was increasingly clear it did not bother Koa. Makana was doing his part for his people — the warriors needed someone to offer them succor and compassion in private, and this warrior was one who needed him to offer it. He was all too happy to oblige.
The only surprising thing, Makana thought as he lowered his head to kiss Koa’s smooth chest, was that Koa wanted to kiss him — most of these warriors enjoyed feeling his mouth on their bodies and penetrating his rear with their manhoods. They did not want to pleasure him in return.
But that was exactly what Koa did. He kissed Makana on the lips, rough hands caressing Makana’s shoulders and roaming down his slim hips. Koa had thick and meaty fingers, like miniature clubs battering Makana’s tender body. Then his hands roamed down to Makana’s ass, which he squeezed hard. That sent a frisson up Makana’s spine, and he squealed as he lost himself in Koa’s arms and his warmth. Koa’s kisses moved lower along with his hands, as Makana moaned in surprise and desire.
Koa was so tall that he struggled to lower his head much past Makana’s bellybutton — he towered over Makana, so Makana had to stand on his toes. Koa’s kisses moved like tender butterflies as low as he could go on Makana’s body.
But even then, Koa could not take Makana’s cock in his mouth, not without kneeling, which Koa would not do — too proud, as a warrior, to kneel before any man beside the chief. Koa instead sat on his ass with his legs out, so Makana could climb onto his thunderous thighs.
That at last placed Makana’s smooth cock and balls (he had shaved off his hair just yesterday) right in front of Koa’s mouth. Koa parted his lips, trembled nervously and let Makana’s manhood enter him.
A wave of wet warmth washed over Makana, who gripped Koa’s wild mane as pleasure wracked Makana’s body. His cock fit perfectly in Koa’s mouth, his thick tongue rubbing against the shaft as Makana entered his throat. The warmth and moisture of Koa’s tongue battered Makana’s sensitive manhood. Koa didn’t move at first, like he had no idea what was supposed to happen beyond the fact that a penis was to enter his mouth. But then his instincts took over, aided by Makana flexing his hips, and Koa moved his mouth up and down Makana’s shaft.
His dick disappeared down Koa’s throat. Koa gagged when it hit the back of his tongue, but that didn’t slow him down at all. Koa twitched awkwardly at first, then his muscles rippled and flexed with increasing excitement.
“Oh, Koa…”
Makana’s dick was hard already, spasming and leaking precum into Koa’s mouth. Koa didn’t seem in the least bit put off by it, and he actually guzzled down every drop. Makana had very rarely been in this position and never with a young buck-strong warrior like Koa. He scarcely believed it was happening.
Koa pulled off Makana’s penis and looked at it as though he had never seen it before. He stroked it with one hand and pulled the foreskin back. He licked the tip and even flickered his tongue into Makana’s piss-hole. He threw his head back and moaned as passion overwhelmed him, and he let out a spine-tingling moan of desire.
Makana’s penis rubbed against Koa’s face. He kissed it and worshipped it breathlessly, and his tongue slathered wetness up and down the sensitive shaft. He suckled on Makana’s balls while Makana’s humped his dick overtop Koa’s mouth and cheeks. He was astonished that he was getting perhaps the biggest and roughest warrior on the island to jerk him off instead of the other way around. That happened so rarely he had always assumed it would never happen to him.
Makana looked around to make sure no one was nearby. Most of the warriors were at home, in their own hale, with their wahine. No one was on the beach, and the only voices he heard were distant.
“Don’t worry, Koa, no one will see, and no one will tease you for it even if they did see. They know better than to cross me,” Makana said. He was an herbalist for the island, and many a men came to his for healing when they were sick or injured. No one wanted to get on his bad side.
Many men also came to him when their wives were angry with them, and Makana would treat them as Koa did now. The powerful warriors who protected this island and its inhabitants deserved the tender, sensitive touch of Makana, he thought, but none of them had reciprocated an experience like Koa was doing now.
Koa nodded. He kissed the tip of Makana’s dick, then moved around to Makana’s ass. Koa rotated his body and groaned when he tasted Makana’s light brown asscheek, like he had never seen a rear end before. His lips caressed the curve of Makana’s backside.
Makana leaned forward and placed his hands on the ground. Now this, he thought, was proceeding in a little more typical manner — Koa was going to lick Makana’s bottom until it was nice and loose, then stick his manhood in. That was what Makana expected from a big warrior like Koa, one who was strong and enduring.
His massive head squeezing between Makana’s cheeks, Koa’s tongue tentatively explored around his ass, as though expecting him to say it was tabu for him to put it inside him. But he didn’t say that because it wasn’t forbidden, merely rare; Makana twinkled his asshole in front of Koa’s face.
Then Koa growled hungrily and dove in.
Makana gasped as Koa’s thick tongue pushed inside him. His tongue was just as disproportionately big as the rest of his body, so it squeezed into Makana’s behind. It was good to take such a tongue now, Makana thought, because Koa’s dick was much bigger. Makana wanted to be loose enough to could accept every inch of Koa’s manhood inside his ass.
He lapped at Makana’s ass, more and more enthusiastically with every lick of his tongue. Koa growled and grunted, snorting like a hog and breathing heavily. Shaking with erotic frenzy, Makana struggled to raise his ass all the way up in the air so Koa could reach it without stooping down. His tongue sent him into spasms of pleasure and desire, and Makana clawed at the ground. His eyes rolled back in his head.
Then Koa pulled out. Makana knew what was coming, so he lowered his ass and closed his eyes to prepare for both pleasure and pain.
But nothing happened. He turned around and saw that Koa had gotten in the same position Makana was in, his smooth plump asscheeks high in the air, well above Makana’s head.
“Lick me, Makana…” he said softly, weakly. He closed his eyes and shook his ass. His cheeks were smooth like Makana’s but not slim, they were rather meaty and plump, luscious, inviting like a banquet and no doubt tasty as one too.
Makana giggled and reached up to stroke his heavy ballsack and the hairy spot between his thighs. He ran his finger up to Koa’s ass. “You have to lower yourself, huapala. How tall do you think I am?”
Koa lowered his ass until he was on all fours on the ground, just like Makana had been moments ago. He aimed his ass up, placing it at the perfect height for Makana to dive in. Makana loved licking fresh ass like this, so he moaned as he spread Koa’s cheeks.
Planting his tongue deep inside Koa, Makana moved his hands to caress his cheeks. Then he slowly worked his way around to grip Koa’s dick with both hands. Again his size made the positioning difficult — he had to really stretch to reach Koa’s crotch from behind him. But he enjoyed working at it, and Koa’s asshole clenched around his tongue as he stroked his already erect manhood.
After only a few moments, Koa grunted loudly. It felt like he was near orgasm. His muscles pulsated and rippled above Makana’s face, which worked up a puddle of moisture in the crevice between Koa’s powerful asscheeks.
“Makana…” Koa said, keeping his head hung low. “Will you… put it in me?”
“You want me to do that?” Makana asked, his eyes opening wide, eyebrows raising. That was one thing he had never done — plenty of warriors wanted to do it the other way around and a handful had wanted to jerk him off. But none ever wished to be penetrated.
Koa, Makana thought, was truly special.
“Yes, please…” Koa’s voice was plaintive and desperate. He wondered how long Koa had been thinking about this. Koa only eighteen so it couldn’t have been for all that long — Koa had been a late bloomer anyway — but he seemed so desperate, as though he had been longing for it for decades. He was an old soul, Makana thought, that was why.
“Of course, sweetheart,” Makana said. “I’ll be as gentle as you need.” He stood behind Koa, on his toes to make his crotch line up with Koa’s ass. “Are you ready?” His cocktip throbbed at Koa’s tight entrance.
“Yes, please, do it!” Koa exclaimed. Then he bit his lip as Makana slid into him. Makana’s tongue had opened his ass up enough that he could get the first little bit in without any difficulty or pain. A constellation of sensations erupted deep within Makana, pleasure emanating from his crotch and spreading to every corner of his body, increasing with each thrust of his dick like the tide growing with every wave.
After those first couple of inches, Makana felt resistance and slowed down, though Koa showed no sign of pain. Despite his ass fighting and clenching, Koa lifted his bruised head and howled with pleasure. He threw his face back as though trying to kiss Makana, though he was much too tall for his lips to reach Makana’s face.
Makana worked his dick in deeper and deeper, surprised with every thrust that Koa didn’t back out or ask him to slow down. He gripped Koa’s tattooed back tightly and held on. His muscle squirmed and coiled beneath Makana’s fingertips.
As soon as his fingers reached all the way around his body and touch Koa’s dick, Koa bucked and gasped, bliss rippling through his musculature. His orgasm began then, but Makana knew well how to keep it going. He ground his dick slowly inside Koa’s ass, triggering the point of ultimate sensitivity, and his tiny body made Koa’s massive muscles shake and tremble — he loved the kind of power he had over warriors like Koa. He could never have bested them in battle, but in love and lust, he aroused their passions more than anything else.
He sensed Koa’s orgasm through the clenching of his ass and the writhing of his back muscles beneath Makana’s fingers. It was tight and bursting with power, and Koa groaned so loud he was sure everyone nearby must have heard. Nobody spoke of it though, so maybe their passion could yet remain in the shadows.
Cum sprayed over the floor as Koa shot his load in Makana’s hand. Makana had never seen so much semen at once, as if Koa had never cum before and was emptying his balls for the first time. It drenched Makana’s hand, wad after creany wad flowing like a river, but he continued stroking, even as Koa’s muscles contorted beneath his touch. His exquisitely sensitive flesh writhed beneath Makana’s grasp.
Koa twisted and turned as he plowed him harder and harder. Koa’s dick flopped limply between Makana’s fingers, but he didn’t tell Makana to stop. He gulped and swallowed nervously, accepting every inch of Makana’s dick deep inside him. Makana’s sac slapped on the firmness of Koa’s body too, a thwack-thwack sound resounding in the steamy hale.
Finally Makana was done too. He let out an intense grunt when an orgasm washed over him. He stopped moving for a moment, then resumed long, slow strokes of his hips as he spurted out a jet of cum inside Koa.
He had a big load too, just as big as Koa’s, and it seeped into Koa’s body. An intense and continuous flow of cream filled up Koa’s, the heat of it suffusing through his flesh. He sighed in sync with the last throbbing pulsations of his dick inside Koa’s behind, his juices spreading within him and dripping down his thighs.
It was unlike any orgasm Makana had ever experienced, more intense than he had thought possible. Makana had never penetrated such a man before, so he didn’t know if it was so knee-droppingly potent because that was how it felt to plow a man in the ass, or if Koa was simply that good. It was, Makana decided, a bit of both.
“Oh, Koa… you make me feel so good,” Makana said with a cringe and a moan.
At last it was done. They were done. The day was done, the battle gone, the pleasure complete and total. Makana pulled his dick out and wiped it off. Koa collapsed into a sweaty heap of tired muscles and bruised, tender flesh on the ground.
Makana closed his eyes and sighed. He took a cloth and dipped it in clean water. He slowly wiped off the sweat and other juices until Koa’s brown skin gleamed and shimmered again, and only then did Makana wipe his own manhood clean. He rubbed more of a a poultice into Koa’s wounds, but Koa was already asleep. He had a deeply placid look on his face.
In the warmth of Makana’s hale, he lay there next to Koa caring for him and experiencing an wild, thrumming constellation of emotions for what felt like forever. The moon hadn’t yet reached its apex when Makana finally curled up in Koa’s arms to sleep. Makana told himself not to get too excited — many a warrior had sworn to be with him forever only to change their mind when a pretty young girl appeared interested.
But for now, this was good enough, and that was all that mattered. He settled into the warmth of Koa’s firm arms and drifted off into a satisfying slumber.

Poahi on brotherhood and purpose

Content

  • Nobody heard that symphony but him
    They lifted with a rhythm, he thought, and without even trying, they formed a percussive symphony.
  • That feeling he could not quite name was camaraderie
    He enjoyed playing in those days. It might have been better, he thought, if there was no pay. As it was, it felt like the team was an argument about money more than it was about the rugby.
  • The fa’afinafe
    “Sort of. I was in school, back in Apia. She wasn’t, she was older,” Poahi said. He paused as though there was more to the story that he wasn’t saying.

Poahi (Big Toe) Fuimaono

Poahi is a former professional rugby player and is a hobbyist surfer.

Descriptions

The sun shined bright and boisterous, baking the sand and the brash, bracing salt-spray. Poahi let the heat beat on his shoulders as he surfed the sun away. Waves swelled and crashed, and Poahi spent his hours astride the sea like the dolphins diving next to him. Him and his backstop Dale talked — or yelled the best they could as the ocean churned around them — but Poahi didn’t register any of it.
Today was all about the surf. And the dozens of onlookers looking on. They clapped and cheered and whooped when Poahi surfed, and their support kept him going. He didn’t respond to them, didn’t even acknowledge them. It was better that way. Dale waved at them, and he stopped to chat in between waves. Not Poahi. When Poahi washed in to the beach, he went back out to greet moana again.
When Poahi was a tamaiti, he and his friends always climbed on stuff — if there was something climbable, Poahi’d surmount it. His mother never understood and always yelled at him to get down. Poahi could never explain it to her — it just felt right to be above everybody else, to see things from above. Surfing in front of the crowded beach of swimmers and sunbathers felt the same way. He let a wave lift him up, and for a few seconds at least, Poahi was above it all, and mortal concerns seemed like somebody else’s problem entirely. When he was high on a wave, Poahi didn’t worry about Alison or about Lipsweet or his green card or about being a deadbeat or a ballhead. All he worried about was climbing those waves so he could look upon the land like a wairua.

From Poahi the Lackey

Books

Poahi the Lackey: In 1980s Los Angeles, Poahi works as a lackey for a small-time gangster, which doesn’t give him a lot of time for women… Luckily, he’s willing to ram his manhood at anyone crosses him. That’ll give this Polynesian alpha male plenty of opportunities to get a nut off!

Pictures

Poahi the Lackey

In 1980s Los Angeles, Poahi works as a lackey for a small-time gangster, which doesn’t give him a lot of time for women… Luckily, he’s willing to ram his manhood at anyone crosses him.

That’ll give this Polynesian alpha male plenty of opportunities to get a nut off!

Read it now!