An elbowy man with trackmarks abundant knelt between her thighs and lapped at her wet pussy. He had blue hair as well, but his was done up in a giant spiky mohawk that must have taken a gallon of product. There was a photorealistic tattoo of Che Guevara on his belly, which was a tattered and hungry six-pack pockmarked with sores and spots.
The skinny-ass punk looked up and jumped to his feet. His bony ass gleamed with sweat, which coated his tattoo. He turned off the music, and the silence spilled like spoiled milk.
Jenner’s ass was pale as cream where he wasn’t tattooed. He was a marble-hard honky with thighs like coils of rope and a rock-hard ass, which dimpled bare in the cool night air… Steel moved his foot to Jenner’s mohawk, the spikes of which was sticky with hairspray. Mosta his head was shaved smooth as a dolphin, all he got left was them spikes… Jenner was a punk in the whiteboy sense, with his anarchy tattoos, safety pin piercings and spiky mohawk, but he was about to be a punk in the niggas-in-prison sense too, cuz Steel was fixing to ram at his ass.
The deadbeat in question was Jenner, and he was a mohawked shithead and crust punk. He sometimes slept on their couch, or more often just passed out there. He was a long and ranky pale-pearl with anarchy tattoos and paperclip piercings. He was well-muscled but skinny. It wasn’t obvious to Dale and Poahi at first that he was a hobo and a heroin addict. Or maybe he was only one of those things when they first met him, but it wasn’t clear which — one or the other would be tolerable. Both together were a problem.
After spending years living with roommates, Avery was overjoyed at finally having a home of his own. He rented a house in the inner-city. It wasn’t the nicest neighborhood, but it wasn’t the worst either. And Avery didn’t even really care about how nice the neighborhood was — he could take care of himself. Or so he thought. One night, just a few weeks after moving in, his ability to defend his home was put to the test. Avery woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of a man breaking in. Maybe two men. His heart nearly leapt out of his chest. He grabbed the pepper spray he kept in his bedroom and hurried into the hallway. There were two men there. Avery stepped into the bathroom so they wouldn’t see him just yet. The closer one was young, handsome, a bit short and lanky, but with wiry muscles beneath his baggy clothes. He had tight cheekbones and a smooth chin. The other, who was unplugging the television in the living room, was bigger and older, scruffy, cornrowed and lighter-skinned.
“Yo, Rico, help me pack up this Playstation,” said the older one. “Yeah, Thumper, in a sec.” Rico — the younger, handsome one — glanced down the hall. He looked worried, in contrast to Thumper’s confident glare. Rico seemed uncertain of whether he had seen movement; Avery hid deeper in the bathroom, looking around for anything he could use as a weapon.
“Rico! Nigga, come on!” Thumper said. “Nobody here, okay? Just help me get this shit!” Rico sighed. He turned around. Avery wished he had his cell phone with him so he could call the police, but he had stupidly plugged it in using a kitchen outlet — he was all out of outlets in his bedroom. Now it seemed so simple, he could have unplugged something he wasn’t going to use tonight. There were a ton of reasons to keep his phone near the bed. They stacked up the television and the Playstation near the door, then Rico opened the hall closet. He whistled in surprise, and Avery blushed, knowing what he saw there. “Thought you said it was just a single man living here,” Rico said. “Yup.” “He got a closet full of women’s clothes,” Rico said. That seemed to throw Thumper for a loop. Avery couldn’t see from his vantage point, but he thought Thumper was looking in the closet too. That meant they were both facing away from the bathroom. This is your opportunity, he told himself. “Tall woman too,” Thumper said. “Probly an ex-wife or some shit. Go on and look in the bedroom-“
“Fuck you, assholes!” Avery screamed — cursing himself for sounding so weak as he did it — and came into the living room, pepper spray in hand. He realized only when Thumper and Rico looked at him that he had never looked closely at this pepper spray. He didn’t know how to use it, or whether there was some kind of safety latch he needed to remove first. Sure enough, when he pressed the trigger, nothing happened. The can of pepper spray was unopened, and Thumper lazily knocked it out of Avery’s hand.
For a moment, all was silent. Thumper and Rico looked at Avery as though they had never seen a white man before. Avery was too scared to move. Thumper chuckled. “Oh, damn. It’s a man.” “Don’t hurt me!”
“Tie him up in his room,” Thumper said. He turned around to look in the drawers of the desk in the living room. He picked up an old iPod as though considering stealing that, then decided it wasn’t worth it. He set it back down. Rico approached Avery with the confident, cocky glare of a thug. Avery, embarrassed at having been outmatched so easily, felt a surge of adrenaline — if he let these home invaders dictate what happened here, this would end up bad for sure. “Goan, man,” Rico said. “Get to the bedroom.” Despite his confident demeanor, Avery could tell he was wavering; he had never done anything this violent. “No. Fuck you,” Avery said. “Get outta my house.” “Just take him, Rico!” Thumper barked.
Rico pushed Avery towards the hallway, but Avery had a few pounds on him. He stood flat-footed and didn’t move an inch. He pushed Rico back, and the smaller man nearly tripped over the couch. Rico looked like he hadn’t expected to have to make an effort. He was used to intimidating scared white men, but Avery’s adrenaline flowed too hard for him to be easy to scare. Thumper laughed. “What’s wrong wit’choo, boy?” “He pushed me!” shouted the annoyed Rico, who stomped towards Avery yet again. “Yeah, he do that!” Thumper said. “We’s robbin’ him. He might push back. That happens, nigga.” That momentary burst of success gave Avery a spring in his step. This time when Rico approached him, Avery used his self-defense techniques — he nearly knocked Rico over with a foot sweep, but instead put him in a bear hug. Rico’s lithe muscles squirmed beneath Avery’s touch as Avery dragged him to the front door. He literally tossed Rico out into the front lawn, as Thumper laughed behind him. When Avery turned around, Thumper was screaming peals of laughter, clapping his hands on his meaty thighs. “You got that, man, you got that!” Avery blushed. He hadn’t meant to impress Thumper. Now that Rico was gone, Avery just needed to get rid of Thumper, or make it into the kitchen to call the police. But then Rico walked right back in behind Avery. He once again tried to push Avery, who easily tossed him out the front door yet again. This time, he was distracted long enough for Thumper — who still laughed as though he had never seen anything so funny — to grab Avery from behind. He wrapped both muscular arms around Avery and hissed. “This is how you do it, nigga!” he barked at Rico, his anger suddenly dissipated, replaced by rage. Rico, embarrassed, muttered as he followed Thumper, dragging Avery into the bedroom. Rico shut the front door and wiped wet grass off his stained t-shirt. Despite or maybe because of all the fighting, Avery was horny. It came both from general excitement as well as from the strapping muscles of Thumper’s body, undulating behind his back. Avery could even feel a horsey cock beneath Thumper’s jeans, rubbing against the small of Avery’s back. “Get some rope,” Thumper said as he tossed Avery on the bed on his belly. Avery felt naked and vulnerable. He wore only a pair of sweatpants and a plain t-shirt. He tried to get up, but Thumper sat on the bed next to him, resting one heavy arm on Avery’s back. “Get a rope!” “I, uh, I ain’t got one.” “I tol’ you bring a rope!” “You said he wouldn’t be home! And I ain’t got a motherfuckin’ rope, nigga!” Thumper sighed. “You stupid fuck. What we s’posed to tie him up with?”
“You said he wouldn’t be home.” “What I said was bring a rope, nigga!” Thumper said. “You should stay prepared, man. Don’t come into some nigga’s house without rope to tie him up.” He patted Avery on the back of the head. “Sorry ’bout callin’ you a nigga, whiteboy.”
“That’s okay. Just get out! Lemme go,” Avery said. “Go find something we can tie him up with,” Thumper said with a sigh. He held Avery’s face in the pillow, not suffocating him, but keeping him from seeing what Rico was doing. After a few seconds, Thumper shouted in frustration. “Not in here, nigga! If there was something in here we could use to tie him up, I’d-a said ‘hand me that, nigga’. I said go find something!” Rico muttered angrily to himself as he walked out the door the bedroom. He could be heard pawing through the hallway closet. “Sorry, man, he young. He slow,” Thumper said. Leaving one hand on Avery’s neck and hand, his other rested on Avery’s back. That hand moved slowly lower. “He ain’t nevuh been locked up. He don’t know.” He leaned in and kissed the back of Avery’s neck. “You got a nice body.” He let out a choked moan. “Boy, if you was my cellmate… I’d brew up something in yo’ ass and yo’ mouth, e’rry damn day.” Avery shuddered at the thought. He was so aroused now his dick was already getting hard, even pressed awkwardly into the mattress beneath him. “You into that, huh?” “Hell yeah,” Avery said. “You can ram me. Just don’t rob me.” Thumper laughed. “Those things ain’t mutually exclusive, man,” he said. “And you ain’t in position to be making demands.” He chuckled as he stood up. He unzipped the fly of his jeans and fished out a long dark cock. His head moved of its own will towards Thumper’s cock. Avery hesitated, inhaling that musty, prison-starved scent — he could tell that the underwear Thumper wore was that plain white kind, prison-issue boxers. But before Avery could open his mouth to suck it down, Thumper took his head in hand and pulled it into his crotch. The silky taste of limp cockmeat filled Avery’s mouth. Thumper had an intense and potent flavor; he tasted of blunt ash and grimy city streets. He smelled of prison cells, men in cramped conditions and unwashed ballsweat. Avery tasted all of the grime that came from his gangbangin’ lifestyle, and he guzzled it down. In no time his cock began to firm up within Avery’s mouth. It grew hot and thick, and Avery let his tongue caress the underside of Thumper’s veiny shaft. “Oh yeah…” Thumper murmured. “I only got outta prison yesterday, man. I needed this.” Thumper kept all his clothes on. He didn’t even drop his pants, he just let his cock poke out of the fly of his jeans. As Avery licked, Thumper stooped more and more to give Avery better access to his entire dick. Soon enough, Thumper was leaning over the entire bed, humping Avery’s face like a dog. The smell of a lit cigarette filled the room. Avery was annoyed — he didn’t allow smoking in his home. He hated cigarettes, but he wasn’t about to complain, even if his mouth weren’t full. Lit cigarette cocked between his lips, Thumper climbed all the way onto the bed. The position was awkward. No one would have ever chosen to get dome in this position, but Thumper didn’t seem to mind. Maybe he was used to overcrowded prisons. Avery’s body jammed against the wall of his room, laying on his side, while Thumper crawled onto the bed, stooping over so his cock could reach out of his sagging jeans and into Avery’s throat. “Slurp it good, nigga,” Thumper said. He snuck one callused hand behind Avery’s head, holding it still while he worked his cock in and out. When Avery finally gagged on its thickness invading his throat, Thumper murmured his approval. “There ya go. That’s the sound of a job done right. Move yo’ tongue around mo’.” Avery did as he was told. He had never tasted a cock this delicious before. Thumper’s tasted of masculinity; Avery could still savor the drops of untainted sweat that clung to his shaft, rather than tasting nothing more than his own spit, which is what usually happened to blowjobs after a few minutes. Then the overwhelming saltiness of precum hit Avery’s senses. He moaned, which made Thumper laugh. He lightly smacked Avery on the cheek. “You fo’ real, man,” he said. “I like you. You wanna slurp on my balls?” He didn’t need to ask Avery twice. Avery reached into the hairy dankness of Thumper’s crotch and withdrew a low-hanging sac from the fly of his jeans. He drooled as he pulled off Thumper’s cock and let both hairy balls fall into his mouth. That enormous brown dick stood straight up from his face. Avery lazily stroked it with one hand, giggling as he saw Thumper twitch with every touch — Avery kept his hand off-rhythm, light, virtually torturing Thumper, whose hands fluttered as though he was unwilling to touch himself no matter how much his instincts demanded it. “Whatchoo doin, nigga?!” Rico screamed when he came back into the bedroom. He dropped the soft cloth belt from a bathrobe, which is apparently what he found with which to tie Avery down. Rico sounded like he was about to start crying. Thumper laughed. “What’s it look like, lor nigga?” Rico hesitated. He stood there in the doorway. Avery couldn’t see his face because Thumper’s balls overflowed from his mouth, and all that was in front of his eyes was that towering shaft of chocolate brown cock. With every barrel laugh of Thumper’s heavy body, Avery felt the balls on his tongue quiver. He suckled as loudly as he could, and the moist sound of gargling balls filled the room. Rico audibly gagged. He came closer, approaching gingerly, as though it was a bomb he needed to find a way to defuse. “You ramrodding’ that man?” Rico asked. Thumper laughed again, and his balls twitched in Avery’s mouth. “Nah, he likes it.” There was a long silence. Avery could hear Rico come even closer, and kneel as he looked right at the balls disappearing down Avery’s throat. “He likes the taste of balls?” He peered closer but stepped away as though worried about being splashed. He wrinkled his nose. Thumper grabbed Rico’s head. Rico squealed and tried to pull away, but Thumper held him close. He dragged his head right to Avery’s ball-slurping face. For a moment it looked like Thumper was going to make Rico swallow his cock. But he didn’t. He just held Rico’s face there for a moment, so close the spit from Avery’s ball-slurping splattered on Rico’s nose. Rico gagged and bucked, and Thumper let him go. This time, Thumper and Avery both laughed together. Rico wiped his face off and roared in frustration. “Don’t nevuh get locked up, nigga,” Thumper said. He pulled his moist scrotum out of Avery’s mouth, planted it right on his nostrils and laughed at Rico’s shocked reaction. “I won’t!” “You go’n embarrass me if you do,” Thumper said. He pointed the tip of his dick into Avery’s mouth, but just jabbed it in once before getting up. He kneeled on the bed, straddling Avery’s body. “You know how things go in there, nigga. You-“ “Yeah!” Rico sounded like he was about to cry. “I know how lockup works, brah. If I was in there, I might lay some pipe in a nigga. But I ain’t. I-“ “You don’t want that to be yo’ first time, Rico,” Thumper said. His fingers gripped Avery’s face, rubbing his cheeks and stretching his mouth open. He leaned over until he was so close he nearly kissed Avery right on the lips. Rico watched with baited breath, but then all Thumper did was purse his lips and spit. A wad of saliva landed right in Avery’s mouth, and Thumper forced his lips shut. Thumper licked Avery’s spasming face from his chin to his forehead. “You mine, bitch.” He chuckled to himself. “It ain’t the same if you want it. I kinda miss makin’ prison bitches squirm,” he said, a bit ruefully. “You wanna throat down this nigga too?” “God yes!” Avery shouted. Rico didn’t respond and maybe didn’t understand what Thumper said. He wavered, and looked away when Thumper smiled at him. Without taking his body off Avery’s bed, Thumper wrapped one arm around Rico’s shoulder. “C’mon, nigga. You should do this. You ain’t gotta tell no one,” Thumper said. “You gonna look like an idiot if yo’ first time wit’ a man happens behind bars. Ain’t young niggas do shit on the downlow these days?” “No!” Thumper rolled his eyes. “You don’t, you mean. I know some young niggas do.” “I got females, Thumper!” Rico said, his voice plaintive and desperate as though he felt a need to convince himself as well as Thumper. He closed his eyes while Thumper guided him close to the bed. Rico began undoing his belt, but Thumper stopped him. “Nah. Real thugs don’t take they clothes off, not fo’ jackin’ off wit’ some whiteboy,” Thumper said. “You might have to run wit’ a quickness.” Rico’s breathing was slow and swift. He was very nervous, and his hands trembled as he unzipped his fly. He took a deep breath and let his cock flop out. “Well? Come on, put it in his mouth,” Thumper said. He chuckled. “Gonna break you in tonight, Rico, shit…” Rico winced. He closed his eyes again, and bit his lip. His dick waggled in front of Avery’s face. “Rico, you fucking pussy, just do it, if you gonna do it. If you scared of this whiteboy and wanna run out the door, do that,” Thumper said. “Is you a thug or ain’t you? Thugs ain’t goddamn squeamish ’bout who jerks they cock.” Rico nodded. He didn’t seem any more relaxed, and with his eyes still closed, he could do little more than flop his cock in the general direction of Avery’s mouth. Avery was eager to taste it. He lifted his head the best he could with Thumper still pinning him down. He got the tip of Rico’s dick in his mouth, but as soon as he touched it with his tongue, Rico giggled like a teenager and backed away. “Rico!” Thumper screamed. “Don’t be a goddamn pussy. You almost twenty years old, actin’ like a fuckin’ pansy.” Rico blushed and stepped forward again. He opened his eyes just long enough to see that Thumper’s cock was still rockhard, resting against Avery’s face. Thumper roared in frustration and grabbed Rico’s cock. “Shit, Thumper! You touchin’ my dick!” Rico’s eyes opened wide, looking at his shaft in Thumper’s hand. “Don’t be squeamish,” Thumper said with a snarl. Avery was shocked that Thumper would touch another man’s dick; it looked like Rico was even more surprised. He looked at it like a bad car accident as Thumper led his dick to Avery’s mouth. Rico stepped forward stiffly, wishing he hadn’t agreed to rob houses with Thumper — he had known something like this would happen — not this exactly, but something similar — Rico considered leaving even now. He could have; Thumper would have teased him about it. No matter what Thumper said, Rico thought, this wasn’t gangsta. But a part of Rico didn’t want to seem squeamish, and a part of him did want a little consequence-free orgasm. So he didn’t leave. He just tried to pretend it wasn’t Thumper’s middle-aged, callused fingers pawing over Rico’s meat. Avery opened and swallowed it again. This time he immediately licked the tip, which perked up right away. Rico frowned and sucked in his breath, still watching as Thumper stroked him and Avery slurped on him. Again, Thumper seemed uncaring of how much he touched Rico’s cock, as he pointed his own cock towards Avery’s mouth as well. Avery focused on getting Rico off while Thumper’s dick poked at his lips. Rico’s lithe frame was so tense he was like a fully clothed statue, his knees trembling as he got hard in Avery’s mouth. “See, nigga? It ain’t bad. You gangbang bitches?” “Yeah!” “You ever joust in a bitch’s mouth?” Rico mumbled over some words that Avery couldn’t quite catch. It sounded like Rico had a lot less experience than he was letting on. Thumper laughed, wrapped one arm around Rico and brought his head in. He kissed Rico on the forehead and laughed again as Rico pulled away from him. “Lay off me, nigga! Why we gotta joust and shit?” Rico said. “I just like fuckin’ wit’ you, nigga,” Thumper said. “But we ain’t gotta joust if you want.” Then he backed away. He rolled Avery over onto his back, so Rico had to mount his body just like Thumper had been, in order to aim his dick into Avery’s mouth. Meanwhile, Thumper, in one smooth motion, lifted up Avery’s legs and pulled his sweatpants down. “Oh shit, you gonna ram that man!?” “Hell yeah, I ain’t some squeamish nigga who just wanna get his dick wet,” Thumper said. “I been locked up, nigga. I ain’t stick my dick in nothin’ for a long time.” “Brah, I ain’t wanna hear that shit. That’s fuckin’ disgustin’-“ “Nigga! Shut yo’ goddamn mouth. If you keep complainin’, I’ll have you stick ‘im too,” he said. Rico wasn’t really paying attention to his dick. He was much smaller than Thumper, so in order to mount Avery’s chest, he had to stretch his hips and thighs apart. It was distinctly uncomfortably for him, especially in those loose-fitting jeans he still wore. He kept his hips perfectly still as Avery slurped on his smooth brown shaft through the fly. “Keep yo’ head lookin’ that way if you don’t wanna see it,” Thumper said gruffly as he wedged the tip of his dick between Avery’s cheeks. He shoved a small pillow under there to lift up Avery’s ass, then rammed his dick in. It was just the first few inches at first, but the pain was intense. Avery moaned around the cock in his throat, as pleasure followed the pain in pulsating throughout his body. That hot cock pushed deeper and deeper inside. “Brah, can’t you give a warning? He almost bit down on my dick-“ “You ain’t know what was about to happen?” Thumper asked with a laugh. He lifted his shirt up so it wouldn’t get in the way, then lifted it over his head, without taking it off. His high yellow chest was bare and gleaming with sweat. Thumper ground his dick in even deeper, and chuckled at Avery’s squirming. “This honky know how to take it. How’s that dome, nigga?” Rico didn’t answer. He closed his eyes again. His dick was hard, but it seemed that he was too nervous and distracted to notice. His lithe body bucked instinctively. “You best get tougher, nigga, or less handsome,” Thumper said. “Prison go’n eat you alive.” “I ain’t goan to prison! And can you not talk? Yo’ voice is right in my ear. I can’t nut wit’ yo’ voice all up in my shit,” Rico said. Thumper was leaning forward, so his breath condensed on Rico’s neck. “When you locked up, there ain’t always bitches around. Most of the time, you in a cell wit’ some dudes. Even if you got a bitch, he prolly ain’t around when you want him.” “I ain’t tryin’-a get locked up, brah.” “No one tries to get locked up, sometimes it just happens,” Thumper said. “And you gotta feel good however you can.” Rico shuddered as Thumper’s hands caressed his back. Thumper lifted up his shirt to reveal a broad, smooth brown back. His fingers danced up and down Rico’s spine. Then his hands roamed lower and lower, until they went past the waist of Rico’s jeans. He grabbed Rico’s plump asscheeks. “You ever took it up the ass before?” “No!” “You got a hell of an ass, nigga,” Thumper said gruffly. He kissed Rico’s bare shoulder then rammed one finger up his asshole. Rico was so nervous that his erection flagged inside Avery’s mouth. Avery didn’t mind, as this was arousing enough that he didn’t want it to end. Anything that made it go on a little longer was fine by him. “How’s that feel, nigga?” Rico closed his eyes, not willing to answer. He leaned forward and grimaced in pain as his hips began instinctually flexing forward and back, digging his dick deep into Avery’s throat as he went forward. Rico couldn’t see what Thumper was doing, so he had no idea that Thumper caressed Avery’s flat stomach. Then he grabbed Avery’s cock and gave it a stroke. He made a quiet shushing sound, which Avery gathered was aimed at him — Thumper didn’t want Rico to know he was giving a reacharound (of sorts — it wasn’t a real reacharound, since Avery was on his back; it was a reach-front). With the taste of one cock in his mouth and another stimulating his prostate, Avery had no ability to delay his orgasm. He was about to bust a nut without anyone even touching his cock, and now that Thumper was stroking it, he couldn’t resist. Cum spurted from his cock, coating Thumper’s fingers. Thumper didn’t slow down at all. He kept stroking, and moaned as Avery’s body contorted around the cock in his ass. Rico was so focused on the pleasure coming from both ends that he didn’t notice Avery orgasm. He breathed a sigh of relief as Thumper removed one finger from his ass then gasped when Thumper replaced it with one from the other hand, the hand he had just stroked Avery off with. Rico had no idea that the pinkie finger in his ass was coated in Avery’s cum. “Ah, gawd, here it comes, brah,” Rico said, his voice soft and weak now that he was letting Thumper finger him. His voice even broke as the first few drops of cum coated Avery’s tongue. “Nah, niggas paint they bitches’ face,” Thumper said. He grabbed Rico’s cock as it shot its load, pulled it out of Avery’s mouth and aimed it to spray all over his face. Rico’s entire tight body spasmed at Thumper’s touch, and his cock pulsated beneath Thumper’s fingers, his asshole squeezing the finger of Thumper’s other hand.. As the orgasm wrapped around Rico’s muscles, he leaned forward, gasping. Rico yelped and squirmed but didn’t try to crawl away; he just submitted to the humiliation of enjoying his cumwad’s spray into Avery’s mouth. Thumper grunted. He stayed still for just a moment. He kissed Rico’s neck, making Rico shudder at the touch of Thumper’s lips. Avery stroked Rico’s sensitive cockshaft as he felt Thumper’s cumload spray within him. It was hot and creamy, and Avery and Thumper moaned together, as though harmonizing with each other. Thumper’s guttural, tremulous tone filled the room, and Rico shuddered in disgust at the sound. Avery, feeling bold, pushed his hands up underneath Rico’s shirt. He gripped his pecs — just as he had suspected, Rico was small, but powerfully-muscled. Each pectoral muscle was like an overpumped basketball, tense with post-orgasmic glow and awkward tension, his older thug friend still massaging his back and fingering his ass. Then he was done. Thumper didn’t move. He kept his limp cock right in Avery’s ass, while both cum-covered hands caressed Rico’s body. It was obvious he was playing a prank on Rico, seeing how much touching he would accept before complaining. Rico held his breath and closed his eyes, trying to pretend there weren’t men feeling him up from both sides. “Okay, that’s enough, you two,” Rico finally said. He nearly fell off the bed in his haste to get away, and he sighed when Thumper leggo his ass. He shuddered as he pulled his shirt back down and tucked his cock away in his pants. “I know you just messin’ wit’ me.” Thumper dismounted Avery’s ass, the intense pressure of being penetrated finally leaving Avery’s mind. Thumper stood next to the bed, then much to Avery’s surprise, he dropped his pants all the way to his ankles. A thick, hairy pair of asscheeks waited right above Avery’s face. Thumper pulled those cheeks apart to reveal a twinkling brown asshole. He laughed at Rico’s shudder of disgust, and Thumper planted his ass right on Avery’s face. “Give it a kiss, man,” Thumper said. Avery did as he was told. Thumper waited for the kiss on his ass, then shuddered and stood up. He pulled his pants back up. “Okay, we ain’t takin’ this man’s shit,” Thumper said. “What?! After all that, nigga?” Thumper nodded. “We already rammed him. That’s enough. Ain’t really got shit anyway.” “Come back anytime,” Avery said. He blushed. He thought he should follow them out to the living room, to make sure they didn’t actually take anything. But he was too weak from the dick he just took to stand or walk, so he just watched them both march out the door. From the living room, he heard Rico scoff. “We ain’t comin’ back-“ “Hell yeah we is,” Thumper said. “You find me a female tomorrow night, Rico. If you can’t get one to take it in the ass, I’ll either ram you or this honky. Your choice.” “Man, Thumper… I mean, him, obviously-“ “Yo’ choice. I like touchin’ yo’ ass while I ram. Might keep you wit’ me e’rry time from now on,” Thumper said. He paused and yelled back, “Later, whiteboy. Get some porno mags we can look at next time.” “Okay,” Avery said, his voice too weak for anyone outside the bedroom to hear. He heard Thumper chuckling as he slammed the front door, and Avery breathed a sigh of relief. He was exhilarated. He settled down in his sheets, unwilling to move because he could still smell that thuggish scent; he didn’t want it to ever go away. There was a tap on his window. It was Rico’s handsome cornrowed face, frowning at him. “Hey, man? Thanks for that. I’ll come back alone sometime. I don’t wanna mess around with that ol’ nigga. But I want another nut from you. Don’t tell no one, okay?” “Okay,” Avery said breathlessly. Rico paused and whisper-yelled away from the window. “Alright, Thumper, damn! I’m comin’! I just dropped my lighter.” Then he muttered into the window before scurrying away. “Keep yo’ door unlocked and yo’ lips unchapped, man. I be back.” Avery smiled and watched them disappear into the night. He couldn’t wait to seem them both again — together, one at a time, bringing their friends, he didn’t care. He just wanted more.
Rob was stuffed full of sausage and mustard, and now he was eager to find a different kind of sausage. Rob had been touring Europe for weeks now, and he was enjoying the sights and sounds of Berlin. The city was warm and windy tonight. Rob wanted to stay outside, but he didn’t want to waste his time. It didn’t seem there was anything going on on the streets of Berlin. So he went into the first nightclub he saw. It turned out to be a rather old, not very hip club, playing dansmusik, which was just dorky enough to be charming. There were a wide range of both men and women. The men were not really his type, however. They were mostly thin, tall, stately — he liked men who were rough, crude and at least a little bit dangerous. He made his way across the dancefloor. There were a lot of women here, that was the first thing he had noticed. A lot of hot women. That did not bode well for his chances of finding a man. A lot of women meant no desperate guys. He decided to try his luck elsewhere. He headed out and towards the seedy side of town. He hadn’t gotten very far when he saw a Bier Palas that was still open. It was very touristy, so he wasn’t sure if it was for him. Rob wasn’t in Germany for the tourist stuff — he wanted men. He wanted to touch and taste them; he wanted to savor every drop of German manhood. He went to the door just to pop his head inside. It was mostly women, he saw, once again, just like the nightclub (why are there so many German women?! Damn it!). Fat tourists guzzled cheap, watered-down beer. The girls were dressed as frumpy fraus in dirndls, with big tits mostly visible, like if a Hooters restaurant were tossed back in time to the late 19th century. “Guten Abend.” A man’s dour voice filled the air. Rob turned around and gulped nervously. The man in front of him was an intimidating sight. He was nearly seven feet tall and built like a professional wrestler, with arms bigger than Rob’s head and a broad strapping chest like he was part-Volkswagen. He was blond and squarish, with a very Teutonic face and a crooked nose like der Kämpfer. His hair was short and neatly combed. He crossed those massive arms over his chest. “Oh, hallo,” Rob said. Now that he had taken in the man’s towering physique, Rob was turned on. He also noticed now that this man — Otto according to his nametag — worked for the Bier Palas. He was a bouncer or security guard of some sort.
That meant he was dressed like an employee, in traditional German garb. He wore liederhosen and a green and white shirt. This Bier Palas did not have a uniform that fit him well, so the liederhosen were too short, stopping at the knee, and his muscles bulged out of the clothes.
The German man grunted. “Are you the thief?” “What?” He paused, eyeing Rob up and down. He frowned, and Rob’s heart raced. Otto casually opened Rob’s shirt pocket and peered inside. “Someone has been picking the pockets of our customers as they leave.” He paused. “Wenn du der Dieb bist, werde ich dich fangen.” He waited for Rob to show he understood the German — which Rob did, but poorly enough he could pretend he didn’t. Rob nodded. “Oh, yeah, I swear, that wasn’t me. I don’t do that. I actually have plenty of money,” he said. “I wanted to ask you something. My name is Rob,” he said. He blushed and stammered because Otto was such an imposing figure wie eine Statue eines heidnischen Gottes. “I wanted to offer you a job, of sorts. It’s not the kind of job you are used to, I assume-“ “Please be quick.” He inhaled deeply and glowered at Rob. “I have a tight schedule. I must be home shortly.” “Oh, yes, well, I can offer you money,” Rob said. “I will pay you five hundred euros to cornhole me.” He paused, but Otto had no reaction. “Are you okay? What do you think?” He tweaked Otto’s bicep, which was harder than Rob expected; Otto must have been an amateur bodybuilder, he thought, with skin like Alabasterstein. He giggled and stroked it again, but Otto pushed his hand away. “You are offering me money for sex. That is prostitution. Die Hure.” “Well… Yes, that’s right,” Rob said. “Glad we’re on the same page.” He flared his nostrils. “Fine. But I will not interrupt my workplace. That would be inefficient. I have a job to do.” He pointed to a door in the alley, behind the door into the Bier Palas. “Go in there and wait.” He didn’t stick around to see if Rob would do it. Rob hesitated but did so. It was a small vestibule with a locked door on the other side, beyond which were a few offices. Rob guessed these were the administrative offices for the Bier Palas. After an hour or so, Otto returned. He still had his lederhosen on. He came into the small vestible, locked the door behind himself and frowned at Rob. “Do it.” Rob’s eyes opened wide. “Uh… Otto? You mean-?” Otto’s lips were pursed. “I said do it. You want me to give penis, you must do it.” “Oh, yeah, okay. I just thought, uh…” Otto stood there stiff as a board, arms crossed over his massive chest. He was so tall Rob could barely reach his shoulders at all. Rob touched Otto’s flat stomach through his shirt, then started to lift it over his chest. The blond hairs on his belly were fine und Weich, and his skin was perfectly smooth. His six-pack rippled beneath Rob’s touch. Otto stopped him. “You said you wished to have dick of mine. Like oral and anal penis? Yes?” “Uh, well… yeah.” “You do not need to take my shirt off. It could become wrinkled. It would be inefficient,” Otto said. “Oh. I, uh… I mean, I think if I am paying for it… It would be nice… Okay, fine…” Rob’s voice trailed off. Otto narrowed his eyes to slits, and Rob realized it was best to just move on. He didn’t mind jacking off guys in clothes. Otto wore lederhosen, which were like britches and overalls combined, so they were held up with straps that ran over his chest. Rob was going to undo the straps, but Otto raced to do it like he was in a hurry. He gently but firmly pushed Rob to his knees. “You are wasting time,” Otto said. His ill-fitting lederhosen were tight around the knees, so they didn’t fall all the way down. They just lowered enough to give Rob access zu seinem Schritt, clad in plain, unadorned but perfectly clean briefs. Rob thought that was cute: virtually no men between eighteen and eighty wore briefs back in America. Otto took his briefs down, again doing it before Rob could. Rob couldn’t tell if Otto was in a hurry now because he wanted to get this over with (perhaps worried he’d get caught) or if he was embarrassed about it or if Otto simply never dawdled. His dick bobbed and weaved. Rob hesitated, giggling until Otto took charge and dropped his cocktip into Rob’s mouth. Rob started jacking then, teasing the tip and sliding his tongue over the shaft and into Otto’s pisshole. An emotionless grunt escaped from Otto’s mouth. His Schwanz twitched, then began to stiffen up in Rob’s mouth. Rob’s hands roamed up to his chest, underneath his shirt, and he managed to just barely reach the bottom of Otto’s pecs. Otto snarled and looked displeased, but he didn’t make Rob stop feeling him up. “Stop.” Otto’s voice filled the vestibule. Rob looked up at him. He pulled off Otto’s cock but left it there resting above his head. He licked the underside of the shaft. Otto showed no pleasure on his face, which made Rob giggle. “If you wish to do it in anal sex, you must do it now.” Otto motioned for him to turn around. “It is best to do it with you an all four of your hands and feet. Stick your buttocks high in the air.” Rob scoffed. “I know how to do it-“ “Then do it! Why do Americans dilly-dally so much?” “Okay, first of all,” Rob said as he bent over. “I was technically born in Toronto. Second of all, how did you learn the word dilly-dally? No one says that-“ “Shut up. All Americans say they are Canadian.” Rob was bent over now in front of him, and he had to drop to his knees to get himself lined up with Otto’s manhood. He still hadn’t taken off his lederhosen, which were around his ankles, or his traditional shirt, which he just unbuttoned a bit near the bottom to give himself unfettered access to Rob’s ass. He drilled into Rob’s ass without any fanfare. He didn’t give Rob much of a chance to adjust to it either. He just slammed his Schwanz in and kept pushing, even as Rob writhed and cried out. “You must open your buttocks hole.” Otto grunted. He smacked Rob’s asscheeks. “Relax it-“ “Yeah, I know how, thanks,” Rob said through gritted teeth. The pain was substantial. He wasn’t sure if Otto had never done this, or if he’d only done it with very slutty women with loose asses, or maybe only with kinky women who enjoyed it painful. Or maybe this was just how it went in Germany, Rob thought, and it was expected to be difficult. Soon, Rob’s ass did adjust, despite Otto pounding away at it. Rob gripped the floor and howled in both pain and pleasure. The pain, however, slowly diminished with each thrust of Otto’s cock inside him. The pleasure grew and grew, until Rob was covered in sweat and moaning. His prostate sent wave after wave of bliss through his veins. Once he got used to it, Rob enjoyed Otto’s rough, awkward way of cornholing. It was very efficient — he got his dick in right away, and every time he thrust, he brought his cock virtually all the way out, so just the tip remained in Rob’s ass, then he plowed all the way in until his balls slapped against Rob’s body. Whenever Rob shifted his weight even a little, Otto wordlessly brought him back to the position he was in to begin with. Otto kept Rob perfectly straight in front of his body, centered, so that when Otto penetrated him, he could go in perfectly straight and symmetrically. “Goddamn…” Rob cried out. He stroked himself off as he got cornholeed, and he lowered his head until Otto forced him back into position once more. “Wait.” Otto stopped with his dick all the way in Rob. He reached for the lederhosen around his waist. His cock was so big that Rob mewled and whimpered, and he squirmed, but Otto stopped him. “I said wait. There is no need to make any noise.” “I’m sorry, it feels so good-“ “Hush, that is not necessary.” Otto pulled a small paper bag out of his pocket. Inside was a styrofoam container — leftovers from lunch. He kept his dick in Rob’s ass as he opened it up. “Are you-?” “Hush. Ich muss jetzt essen,” Otto said. “I will finish when I am ready.” “Oh, I-“ “Hush.” Inside the container was about a third of a sausage resting on a bed of sauerkraut. He took a bite of the sausage. “I saved this from my lunch to eat on my home after work. That would be now, if I weren’t here with you.” “Oh.” That still seemed weird to Rob, but it was hard to think about anything except that massive Teutonic cock in his ass. Rob sucked in his breath. Otto took another bite of the sausage. The smell of sausage and potently funky sauerkraut filled the air. It was enough to cut through the intense sensations rsouroiling Rob’s body. His voice broke and he lowered his body, jutting his ass back um es tiefer auf den Schwanz zu pochen, der in seinem Arsch pocht. Otto grunted but didn’t complain, he just used a plastic fork to eat sauerkraut from the to-go container. Then he spent an inordinate amount of time cleaning up, all still without moving a muscle, that massive cock still throbbing against Rob’s prostate. Otto put the plastic fork, the container and the napkins he had used back into the to-go bag he had come with. He carefully folded the top of the paper bag, then placed it by the door to grab on the way out. “Okay, can we finish?” Rob asked. He was getting annoyed. He had paid for this, after all, and Otto had forbidden him from touching his chest or removing his shirt, had strictly decided on the position he would take, right down to the orientation of his head, which didn’t even affect Otto, and now he made Rob wait while he ate leftovers. It hardly seemed fair to pay for that. Wasn’t the customer always right? But when Rob turned his head to say something, he saw Otto’s broad chest muscles flexing beneath his shirt, ruddiness running up his neck to the pale skin of his cheeks as he resumed cornholing Rob. He put headphones on too, so Rob realized there was no point in complaining, Otto wouldn’t hear. Otto forced Rob’s head to face forward again. Then he began plowing hard, his orgasm slowly building. He finally moved a little too as he went, lowering himself, first to pin Rob down and in place, then as Otto reached orgasm, he got lower and lower. Soon that seven-foot tall body landed on Rob, pinning him to the floor. Rob struggled to breathe, but he didn’t complain — he loved it. He finally sensed some passion and real desire in Otto’s body. Otto breathed heavily and grunted. “Okay, I am going to finish now, cowboy. I am going to shoot my semen into your ass, and you will take every drop. That is the plan, do you understand it?” His voice was still flat and firm, but there was a note of urgency now, like he raced to say this before he finally shot his wad. “Yes, okay!” Rob cried out the best he could beneath Otto’s chest. Since Otto was so tall, Rob was crushed beneath his chest and flat stomach, so Otto could feel his pecs on the back of his head. Rob’s own face was above the floor, Rob’s entire body squirming beneath Otto’s muscles, which were like a blanket that weighed him down. He still had those headphones on, and his eyes were closed. Pulsating Technomusik was audible from the headphones, and it pounded like a soundtrack as Otto rutted. Otto grunted, a few drops of spit slipping past his lips and onto Rob’s cheeks. Then, finally, he was done, and cum filled Rob up. He shot a massive load, thick and milky, which seeped into Rob’s flesh. Its heat overwhelmed him, along with the body heat of Otto’s broad muscles, until Rob could feel it all over himself, like he had been literally covered inside and out. “Aaaaah….” Otto moaned directly into Rob’s ear. Then he wrapped one of those powerful corded-muscle arms around Rob’s thin, reedy chest. He lifted Rob up. The other orgasm running through Rob was so intense he had little awareness of what was happening. He didn’t get why Otto lifted him up, not until Otto’s hand reached around to Rob’s own cock and touched it. Rob couldn’t speak right now, so he didn’t ask why Otto gave him a reacharound — and he wouldn’t have asked even if he could, because he worried asking would make Otto realize he didn’t need to and therefore stop. Otto actually just thought this was part of it. He found it distasteful, but it was just a handjob. He kept his limpening dick in Rob’s ass — he just assumed that was what most men did, because it seemed logical and efficient — as he stroked him off. Since he had just gotten plowed and Otto’s cock still teased his prostate, Rob began orgasming basically the moment Otto started stroking him off. He writhed, impaled on Otto’s dick, wrapped up in his pale stone-like arms. Finally cum sprayed over Otto’s fingers and onto the floor. Rob cried out, his whole body vibrating in a ferocious frenzy that was only more intense because Rob knew how much he stood out — Otto barely moved at all, no more than necessary, so Rob’s wild motions seemed odd and unsuitable to Otto. Not that he would ever say that. Otto was intensely aware of the sticky cum dripping from his fingers, but he didn’t let himself get bothered by it. He waited until Rob was done shooting his wad. Then Otto let go. His dick flopped out, and Rob toppled to the ground, letting out a loud post-orgasmic sigh. Otto stood. He shook his dick between his fingers, then grabbed the remaining napkins from his to-go bag. He quickly and efficiently wiped up his own hands and cock, then he even wiped up the cum off the floor and off Rob’s ass. He threw the napkins back into the bag that waited by the door to be thrown away. He pulled his lederhosen back up, cursing at the sight of a few drops of cum that had hit the fabric. “I will have to wash these now. You must pay extra,” Otto said. “Hand over the money now. Five hundred and twenty euros.” Rob didn’t really think it was reasonable to pay to clean the lederhosen. If it was up to him, after all, he’d have had Otto take his clothes off, and they wouldn’t have gotten cum-stained. But Otto didn’t look like he would entertain any haggling. That was something Rob had noticed in Germany so far — no haggling, no special deals or sales, just plain posted prices. It was nice, he thought, even if annoying at times. He handed over the five hundred and twenty euros, then smiled at Otto. “Thanks for that.” He nodded. “I hope you have a good time in Germany, sir.” Then he added. “It is simply inspiring.” He smiled, which was awkward on his big squarish face. “Simply Inspiring” was the tourism slogan of Germany and was printed back in that Bier Palas in several languages on one of the walls. But Rob didn’t know that. He just thought Otto was awkwardly describing Germany as “simply inspiring”. He nodded and smiled. “Oh. Yeah. Cool. Germany’s, uh… been nice.” “Good. Tell the tourism board I am nice to tourists and I do not frighten you even though I am very big, tell them that,” he said. He nodded. “Thank you, sir.” He turned around and left, grabbing the paper bag to throw away before he was gone. He put his headphones back on too, and before Rob could even say goodbye, Otto was gone, tapping his feet to the sound of techno before he got on a bus going home. Rob smiled when he finally left the vestibule. He had done what he set out to do in Germany, he thought, and he was ready to move on.
Rob was smoking a ciggie near the CentreLink on Bulumbaga Road. It was a bright and sunny day, but the gray squat building in front of Rob made the whole area dismal and bleak; it exuded an aura of dull-edged banality. Craggy bogans bustled in and out of CentreLink, interspersed with a few elderly schmucks and a disabled man accompanied by a nurse. There must have been a separate employee entrance and exit, Rob thought, because he didn’t see anyone who worked here. He was just waiting for the bus anyway. He had ended up missing it by two minutes, so now he had most of an hour to wait for the next one. That’s when he heard a fight break out. It was down in the car park. First, he heard a bunch of gruff macho shouting, vowels extending broadly like sunbeams, consonants clipped — he couldn’t make out the words, but he could make out the accent. They were bogans, fighting. “You bloody tosser, get off me!” “Razza, you prick-“ “Where’d you go last night, huh, mate?” “Why’d you hit me-?” He made out the names Keith and Razza before he snuck down there to take a peek. Razza was the shirtless one, wearing a bushranger hat. He was shorter than his brother, Keith, but thicker-built, and heavily tattooed all over like a bikie — he wasn’t a bikie, though he used to own a motorcycle, he just had bikie-like tattoos because his bikie dad was also his tattoo artist. Keith only had one tattoo, of Uluru, on his shoulderblade — he didn’t get along with dad — and he had terrible teeth and a greasy mullet. They shouted and heaved as their sweat-glistening bodies tore into each other. The fight seemed half-real and half-playful, with punches interspersed with more casual smacks and winking slaps. They both wore short black shorts that showed off their powerful thighs, and Rob lost himself trying to see up those shorts to see if the boys wore grundies or not. “Don’t pull my hair, mate, that makes you a bitch-“ “Get off me, you little ratbag, Razza! I’ll smash your teeth in!” Razza’s superior thickness and powerful arms gave him an advantage though, and his shortness wasn’t much of a hindrance. He finally landed a powerful blow to Keith’s belly, knocking him to the ground. “Who’s the petrol-sniffing ratbag now?!” Razza took off one of his thongs and slapped his brother in the face. He laughed like this was all a big prank — he had looked serious moments ago, but now that he was the winner, he joked and smacked his brother with his thong. Keith slapped the thong out of his face. “Get your fuckin’ thong off me, you abo bastard-“ “You better pay me for that fuckin’ petrol!” Razza said, having to pause for a moment to remember what this fight was even about. He had loaned Keith his car, a vintage Holden he’d been restoring for years, to drive to his job last night. That should have been a five-kilometer trip in total. But an entire tank of petrol had gone missing, a fact that Razza only realized when he had come here to CentreLink to see his case manager. His Holden had barely puttered into the car park. Keith had come later in the day to see his own case manager as well, and Razza was here waiting for him. Keith backed away, ripping his shirt off, ready to have a go at Razza, because it had been obvious from the beginning that Razza was looking for a fight. That happened a lot. The Histexile brothers were known throughout their suburb for fighting each other, and anyone else available. Razza pumped his fists after beating his brother down and didn’t even notice Rob there watching. Razza was glad to win because his brother had called him a racial slur — an Abo. Though Keith and Razza were brothers, Razza claimed to be Aboriginal (1/32 Gadigal clan) and Keith claimed to be descended from convict stock. Both found each other’s claims spurious and worth brawling over. “Come hit me then, fight me like a man-“ “I just whooped your ass!” Razza shouted, feinting forward, his broad chest greasy with old sweat. “Remember? Like two seconds ago?” “You hit me with your thong, that’s not whooping-“ “Bullshit, you little fucker, I’ll do it again-“
“You are such a moron!” Keith gestured towards the CentreLink building, where people had stopped to watch. One person — Rob — came close enough to hear. Keith and Razza were both momentarily self-conscious, then smiled broadly and stamped their feet. Keith wiped the trickle of blood off his nose.
“You wasted a whole tank of petrol!” “Katie wanted to root, man! I drove to her place in Gagamazoo!” Razza threw another punch. “Why didn’t you pick me up? I’d bone that root-rat, mate! We were gonna do donuts today! We were talking about it — right before you went to work, we decided we were gonna kill a case of goddamn stubbies and do-“ “Hey, guys, you know they’re calling the police?” Rob said. He cleared his throat. “Sorry to interrupt.” Keith and Razza exchanged glances and rolled their eyes. Razza looked to the white van Keith had come here in — a work van. Keith was a tradie — so was Razza, technically, but he had been suspended for punching his supervisor. Keith went right to the driver’s seat, and Razza to the passenger’s side as though he was going to get in. “No, rack off, mate,” Keith said. “I’m not supposed to have anyone else in the van. It’s a rule-“ “Oh, fuck you!” Razza shouted from the other side of the van. He had one of his thongs in hand, smacking the van on the side of it when Keith drove away. “You stupid asshole, Keith!” Razza stood there, glowering at Rob. “What do you want?” Rob shrugged. “I’ll jack your dick.” “What?” “You need a ride out of here, right? Let me jack your dick. I’ll give you a ride, let you do some donuts in my car and buy you a slab of beer,” Rob said. Razza heard sirens off in the distance. He laughed nervously, covering it up with a macho chuckle as though he got propositioned like this all the time. He shrugged. “Yeah. Where’s your car?” He scoffed when he saw the tiny Kia. “I can barely fit my dick in this thing, mate,” he said as he got in. “Doin’ donuts’ll wreck this car’s suspension to fuck and back. Could blow out the tyres too.” He had to adjust the driver’s seat so he could fit, hurrying when the sirens got closer. Rob sat in the passenger seat. “I don’t care, it’s a rental,” Rob said. He blushed. He knew he sounded like a wealthy jerk — he was going to have to pay to fix the transmission one way or another — but he couldn’t help it. He could afford it. “Well, shit… Let’s do some circlework! I chucked a sicky to blodge off for the day, so me and my brother were gonna hoon all day. I know a great spot, a dirt road you’d never know it’s there unless you knew it was there. We can stop for stubbies on the way,” Razza said. He was hesitant to really go at it in his own Holden — he’d replaced the suspension several times because of doing donuts in it; he could do it again, but it was expensive and time-consuming, so he tried to avoid it. If this weird pervy stranger was willing to wreck a rental, he could do that. Even if it was a Kia. He headed away from CentreLink at top speed before the police could arrive. He sped to the bottle-o a few kilometers away. Rob went in and bought stubbies of Carlton Draught. He was already hot and horny because Razza’s shirtless body had filled the Kia up with his musk. It occurred to Rob only then that he shouldn’t have left Razza out there with the keys and the car. He could drive away anytime. Razza would lose the beer Rob was buying, but he’d gain a rental car he could do donuts in and then sell for parts. Rob’s heart quickened. He peered into the car park. Razza was still there, showing no signs of leaving. Rob paid for the beer. When he got out there, Razza popped the boot, and Rob plopped the stubbies of beer in there. “Later, mate!” That was when Razza stole the car. After Rob put the beer in the boot. He guffawed and slapped his hand on the roof of the Kia. Then Razza sped out of there bottle-o’s car park, and Rob watched the Kia disappear down the road. Razza whooped and hollered like a cowboy, loud enough for Rob to hear from back at the Dan Murphy’s. So Razza did steal the beer after all. Rob had been right to be nervous, he was just off on his timing. Not sure what else to do, Rob just walked away. He could have called the police. He’d have to eventually, or the car-rental place would accuse him of stealing it. But he didn’t feel like dealing with an Australian cop right now — they were all knobs, and dumber than dirt, as useless as a kangaroo’s crib. So he decided to tell them that his cell phone’s battery was dead, which it very nearly was, so that was why he didn’t call them right away. He just walked down the road. He wasn’t even sure where he was going. He didn’t know how to get back to his hotel, or the CentreLink, from here. He saw a dirt road that came right off the main road. It was unmarked. It was indeed, as Razza had said, tucked in amongst some trees such that, if you didn’t know it was there, you’d never see it. It was around the bend of a curve. It sure looked like that was the road Razza had described, and just beyond the copse of trees on the hill where the dirt road met the paved road, there was a big dry dusty spot, like someone had clear-cut the area to build houses and then never built them. That looked right. You could do donuts down there, Rob thought. Razza had said something about “circlework”, which meant doing donuts on dirt in order to create circles on the ground and kick up a circular cloud of dust in the air. Sure enough, when Rob got beyond the trees, he could see down the hill. There was his Kia, doing donuts, dust kicking up in a grand tornado that filled the air, reaching almost all the way to where Rob stood. He wrinkled his nose and walked down the hill. He got almost all the way down when the car stopped. He heard Razza cursing inside the car, swerving all over because he was trying to squash a poisonous spider that had just bit him. When he either killed it or lost track of it, he focused more on the donuts, building up a huge whirlwind of ocher-laden dirt. Rob shouted, “Hey! You mongrel! Get out of there!” Razza opened the door and smiled broadly at him. A smile on his face really accentuated how dirty he was — plus he stood on the threshold to the car before the dust had settled, so a layer of it clung to his sweaty skin, giving him a tan coat. He had tied an Australian flag to his shoulder at some point since stealing the car, and it fluttered in the breeze his circlework had kicked up. “You followed me? Good on ya, mate!” “Okay, fuck you, Razza, for the following reasons,” Rob said. “First, fuck you just because. Second, fuck you for stealing my car. Third, fuck you for stealing my beer. Fourth, fuck you for not letting me jack you off. Fifth, fuck you for being a goddamn cunt-“ “What? You ratbag-?” “Shut the hell up — the only part of our deal you welshed on was the part where your dick has to work. What’s up with that? What’s wrong with your pecker?” “Awwwwww….” Razza groaned. He knew perfectly well that this pervy foreigner was trying to goad him into it. With a sneer, he ate macadamia nuts from a baggie of scroggin. “Americans are a bunch of pansies, mate.” “If you had asked if you could steal the car, I’d have said you could take it. I’d give you a couple hours before I called the police,” Rob said. “You were scared to get jacked off, weren’t you? You don’t know how to root-“ “I am not scared of shit, mate!” Razza was annoyed with himself for giving in. It was obvious that Rob just wanted his dick. But he couldn’t resist pulling it out to prove it worked. He flopped it between his fingers. He was glad it was a warm day because his cock hadn’t shrunk at all. Rob giggled inwardly but got back in the passenger car in a huff. He glared at Razza, who sat back behind the wheel. “I’ve always wanted to jack someone off while they did donuts,” Rob said. “That’s all. So I was pissed you tried to cheat me-“ “Aw, don’t be a shit, mate,” Razza said. “You’re still whinging about that?” He whacked his dick against his palm as he started the engine again. “You’re not gonna bite down if I go spinning or a tyre blows out, will you?” Rob bent over and put the tip of Razza’s dick in his mouth. “No promises. Don’t blow out.” He giggled and jacked it down, slurping down the dust that had settled on his cock. It tasted filthy, but warm, inviting, sunny, and a little coppery. Rob could even taste the gritty bitterness of brick, which presumably came from Razza’s career as a brickie. Rob wondered if he still tasted like that because he hadn’t washed since then, or if the flavor had seeped into his flesh. “Crikey!” Razza said with a whoop and a holler. He put his foot on the accelerator and turned the wheel, struggling to turn it hard enough with Rob’s head in his crotch. It was disconcerting enough that he barely even noticed what his dick felt like at first. He was too focused on the driving and making sure he didn’t jostle Rob so much he bit down. But then, at last, a shiver of pleasure ran up Razza’s spine, and his dick twitched. His hands clenched tightly on the steering wheel. “Aaaaaah, shit!” Razza whooped. He wished his brother was here to see this, but it was too late now. He’d have to tell him about it later. He’d say it had been a female on his cock, of course. Keith wouldn’t believe that, but he wouldn’t be able to disprove it either, since Razza was going to be coming home with stubbies and a shitty old Kia. Keith wouldn’t be able to explain where he got that. His dick was rock-hard now. It was happening very fast. Razza moaned and groaned, slamming his fists on the dashboard. It ended up not being very good circlework because he was distracted, but still, it was exciting enough, and it left him dizzy in a giant cloud of dust all around him. “Oh shit, mate…” Razza’s voice broke, making him laugh with embarrassment. He felt his orgasm coming on and was sure he would run into the ditch he had been avoiding — he was dizzy and distracted and no longer sure where the Kia was in relation to the ditch. It would be too easy for Rob to be startled and bite down if the car slid into the ditch. So he stopped the car, realizing only as he did, placing one hand on Rob’s head to push him deeper, that it had happened — one of the tyres blew out. He was no longer going that fast, so the car just drifted in a wild, careening circle until at last, it came a stop. A full quivering stop, with Razza’s foot slammed onto the brake-pedal. “Aw, mate, goddamn — shit-” He jacked in his breath, now aware that he had been close to orgasm for a few seconds, only delaying it because the situation had been so exciting. He held onto Rob by the back of the head and pistoned his hips up, throating Rob’s face in a way not many girls let him do. It was awkward to do so crammed between the driver’s seat and the steering wheel, especially in this tiny Korean car. But Razza was too close to cumming to let himself be interrupted by stepping out of the car, or even rolling the window down or putting it in park so he could take his foot off the brake. All of his concentration went to jamming his dick all the way down Rob’s choking throat. Rob loved being throat-abused more than anything, and he was good at it, so he swallowed every bit of Razza’s uncut shaft. “Shit, mate, jack it, goddamn!” Razza moaned again, slamming his hand on the dashboard. A few drops of cum spurted into Rob’s mouth and ran down his gullet. “Aw, there I go mate-” He was tense, veins pulsating on the side of his ruddy head and his neck. His orgasm looked almost painful. Finally it came, great gobs of creamy hot cum spurting into Rob’s throat and down to his belly. Razza kept on spewing more and more, and even he looked surprised by the amount. He kept a tight grip on Rob’s head, the scent of his bogan sweat filling the air once more now that the dust was beginning to dissipate. “Aww…” It was salty and warm, intensely flavorful, thick and creamy, coating his throat like a melted milk bar. Rob couldn’t swallow it all because his mouth was filled with raunchy bogan foreskin, and the dust that had settled there made him cloggy and coughy anyway. But he didn’t mind — Rob liked to make a mess. He swallowed what he could, but the rest spilled out and soaked into Razza’s pubic hair. Razza groaned at the mess, but even he had to admit he liked it better that way. A sloppy blowjob was better than a clean one. And anyway, having a wet spot in his crotch was going to make this story seem more believable when he told his brother that it was a woman who gave him a car to suck his dick. “Well, damn, mate, you made a big mess,” Razza said with a chuckle. He patted Rob on the head, and Rob lifted off. “You-“ The Kia jolted forward and slid into a ditch. They were both so startled they yelped and nearly jumped out of the car. But all that had happened was Razza took his foot off the brake, forgetting that it was on a slight incline, leading into that ditch, and that he had never put it in park. So it rolled right in, nose first. “Fuck!” Rob shouted as he bumped into the dashboard. He rolled out into the muddy ditch, covered in cum and dust and now, mud. Razza laughed as he climbed out. He was already dirty, so it was hard to even tell. He looked at the Kia — one tyre blown out, end in the ditch, who-knew-what-else wrong with it. “You were right. I would have totally bit your dick if that happened when it was in my mouth,” Rob said. He blushed. “Car’s totaled.” “Wanna walk with me back to that Dan Murphy? There’s a grocery store there too,” Razza said. “I’m hungry. Buy me some snags and lammingtons.” “Yeah, okay,” Rob said. He shrugged. “I don’t know what those are, but fine.” He wondered if he’d be able to get Razza’s brother before leaving. “Hmmm… I’ll call the car-rental place in awhile.” Rob was not going to enjoy paying whatever they ended up charging him for this. But, he thought, it had all been worth it.
