featuring twinks – Page 3

The Cocky Football Jock

Raython is a college football star who needs something from twinky barber Desmond. If Raython’s going to get into the frat of his choice, this cocky football jock has gotta let Desmond have a taste… and more of Raython’s throbbing manmeat! Can handsome prettyboy Raython perform when he really needs it?

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Desmond knew who Raython Lake was before he came into the barbershop. Raython was the starting running back for the GHU Titans, and around here, that meant everyone knew his name. Desmond didn’t have to watch college football to know who he was. Raython entered the City Barbershop one sunny Saturday with the cocky strut of a man used to having skinny white girls on each arm. With dimples like those, Desmond knew that was exactly where he got that strut from. He was the kind of stud that girls fell head over heels in love with and guys hated from the moment they laid eyes on him. He looked arrogant, mean, bullying, haughty. Despite his handsomeness, Raython turned Desmond off from the moment he walked in.
Or rather, he turned him on, but also off. Desmond appreciated Raython’s physique, as probably all people did, you’d have to be a sociopath not to be allured by him, but he was mentally turned off by Raython’s personality and indeed his very demeanor. Something about the way he carried himself made Desmond want to punch him in the face. And then rub his shoulders and jerk him off. Then maybe punch him in the face again.
Raython was that kind of man.
“Yo, hey, you Desmond, right, my man?” Raython said. He flashed a grin and slapped hands with Desmond. He spoke like he was used to charming people and had no awareness that some people found him grating and off-putting, like he wasn’t even aware it was possible to dislike him.
“That’s right. I’m Desmond,” he said. He looked away and pouted, rearranging the selfies he had posted over his mirror, hoping to look nonchalant. Desmond didn’t like to let alphas like Raython have unbridled power over him. Raython did have such power over him, which was why Desmond spent so much energy acting nonchalant. He knew what Raython wanted, so he was going to make him work for it. Raython happened to arrive while the other barbers were out at lunch. Desmond was minding the shop alone.
“Well, I’m Raython, I was hopin’ you might jack a nigga dick, y’know… whatever….” He sniffed. “And you know… whatever.” He shuffled his weight between his feet like a man who was not used to being unsure of himself. “I got… other requirements, or whatever.”
“Requirements?”
“Yeah… You know… It’s, uh… Can we go in the back to talk?”
“I’m not really supposed to leave the front room until the other barbers get back,” Desmond said. He crossed his arms over his chest. He let out a wan smile. “Besides, I’m not sure I want to jack you off.”
“What? Why not?” He furrowed his brow. He had definitely not been turned down very often. He looked around as though there must be some emergency preventing Desmond from agreeing. He snorted and rubbed his nose.
Desmond shrugged nonchalantly. “You’re kind of a prettyboy. Not my type. Have you got the goods?”
Raython dropped to his knees and pulled his shirt off. He had a perfect chest, six-pack abs and a v-shaped torso. Again, he looked around the empty room as if this might be a secret-camera reality show. He flexed his biceps. “Yo, come on? You know it.” When that didn’t immediately work, he kissed each bicep, and he flexed each pec in turn.
And again, or rather still, he bestowed his arrogant gaze upon Desmond, who shrugged.
“Hmmm… Nice…” Desmond pretended to ponder it — Raython was a jerk, but Desmond did want to taste every part of his body. The college school year had only just begun, so a lot of new niggas were coming in this way. Desmond’s barbershop was the closest black barbershop to the GHU campus. It sometimes took awhile for the black men from away to discover where to get their haircut, but they inevitably came a-calling, and Raython was no different. Plenty of them probably had Cityside Barbershops back in their home ‘hoods. Most likely they all did. Most inner-city neighborhoods had a Cityside Barbershop, and most of those locations had a barber like Desmond, a small twink with a smooth, hairless body, a girlish shape and a willingness to service the alphas, thugs and jocks who came by to get their hair cut and their needs serviced. Raython had an expectant face on. Desmond’s hand roamed over Raython’s solid pectoral muscle, which throbbed beneath his touch. Raython smiled, flashing those dimples. Raython picked up Desmond’s hand and kissed it like a proposing prince.
Raython leaned forward and kissed Desmond on the earlobe, making Desmond’s taut twink body shudder with anticipation. His lips stayed on Desmond’s sensitive skin, and Raython gently nibbled the earlobe. That made Desmond suck back a howl of desire. Raython’s muscles rippled and exuded heat behind him. Raython chuckled, his voice smooth and dry as a wind-swept rock, and he whispered in Desmond’s ear. “You can pretend all you want, but I know you want my dick. I can see it in yo’ eyes.”
He picked Desmond up in his powerful running-back arms and carried him into the backroom. Once they actually got past the door, it wasn’t realistic to carry him like that — the corridor was lined with shelves and was too narrow. So he hefted Desmond up over his bare shoulder like a sac of flour. Desmond squealed, and he clutched Raython’s powerful shoulders to stay on his back.
They went to the back storage area, which had a little more space. Raython put Desmond down and pulled a clipboard out of his bag. Desmond was dizzy. He kept his grip on Raython’s body for support, his hands slipping under Raython’s pants to tease his juicy asscheeks.
“Yo, uh… You gotta sign this.” Raython handed over the clipboard as Desmond goosed his ass, which Raython ignored.
“What?” This was the part Desmond knew about — he’d been in this area for awhile, and he knew about the Kappa Kappa Pi initiation procedures — but he didn’t let on that he was already aware of what was going on. He read the paper on the clipboard like he had no idea what it said.
The gist of it was that Raython had signed a bet regarding his skill at throwing a football, there was more football jargon involved, but Desmond skipped over it. The upshot of the bet was that some cheerleader was gonna fuck him in the locker room. The downside of the bet was that Raython had to cornhole “the man of his choosing, with light foreplay and a reacharound” — the document was written in some no-doubt weed-induced late-night fit of semi-serious pseudo-legalistic wording — if he lost.
As had come to happen, Raython had lost. He probably fucked the cheerleader in the locker room anyway. Desmond certainly would, if he were Raython or if he were a cheerleader.
“So you have to cornhole me ‘with light foreplay and a reacharound’? And I have to sign this thing, since none of your teammates wanted to come watch to verify it?”
Raython flashed his dimples again and shrugged. “Yep, that’s it. No big deal. They thought I’d be upset about it or some shit. I ain’t.”
“Have you ever done it before?”
“Nah, nigga. I got girls,” Raython said as though that should have been obvious. “I got females beatin’ down doors to get they mouths on my meat. Swear to God. White girls. Nice white girls.”
“So what counts as ‘light foreplay’?”
Raython groaned. “That’s, uh… up to you. But you can’t put nothin’ in my asshole. No way. And I ain’t putting my mouth on yo’ dick, nosirree. But that’s, you know… you can do basically anything else.”
“Hmm-“
“And no fingerin’ nothing — you can grope, but no fingers, and no, you know… No doin’ nothin’ gross. No peepee. None of that nasty-nasty, you know, like prison booty bandit shit. I ain’t no nigga’s fool,” Raython said. “I keep a firm veto. But you can do whatevuh.”
“I see… You said I can’t put nothin’ in your asshole, but does that include my tongue?”
Raython chuckled. His eyes opened wide. “No. That’s fine. You can do that. Rimjobs is fine.” He paused. “That ain’t ‘light foreplay’ though, nigga. That’s heavy. Medium at least. Girls don’t do rimjobs as foreplay.”
“Girls are dumb as donuts,” Desmond said. “And I don’t do light foreplay.” He licked his lips. “I start at a heavy medium.” He stepped forward and planted his lips on Raython’s. Raython jerked and stiffened, his muscles all flexing. He stood up straight, requiring Desmond to jump up and mount his muscular torso to keep his mouth on Raython’s.
That was not a problem for Desmond, who enjoyed climbing up Raython’s powerful body. The more Desmond wrapped his body around Raython’s torso, the stiffer Raython was and the more Desmond had to climb all over him in order to kiss him on the lips. Raython bristled, and he scrunched his eyes up, but he didn’t make Desmond stop.
Raython stood straight up like a statue. He didn’t kiss Desmond back either. Desmond gripped his shoulders and wrapped his feet around Raython’s chest. His tongue plunged into Raython’s mouth. Still, Raython just submitted as though he was paying attention to something else, like this kiss was a purely physical exercise of no more importance the bicep curls he no doubt performed daily in front of a mirror. His arms stiffly dangled at his side.
“Kiss me back. That’s part of foreplay,” Desmond said. He licked his lips. “That’s not how you kiss a girl, is it?”
“Nah, nigga.”
“Then kiss me properly.” Desmond kissed Raython on the neck with enough fervor to possibly leave a hickey, which was enough to get Raython to react.
Raython wrinkled his nose and nodded. He planted his tongue in Desmond’s mouth. He was actually an excellent kisser, Desmond was surprised because very handsome men were often bad kissers in general and were almost always bad kissers when Desmond got his lips on them, they got enough girls that they weren’t used to pretending to be passionate when they were not. Raython, however, kissed like he had been waiting for this moment.
No wonder all the girls on campus loved him. Desmond had no proof that was true, but he was certain it was.
Desmond lost himself in Raython’s arms and his mouth. Raython finally gripped Desmond’s back and ass with his hands, supporting him so Desmond could focus on kissing him. His strong hands dug into Desmond’s perky asscheeks, making Desmond wonder if he held onto girls’s asses so firmly. Desmond hoped so. That was exactly how he liked to be treated.
Eventually Raython gently pulled away. He licked his teeth with a cocky sneer on his face. “You kiss like a girl,” he said.
“And you kiss like a man. You’ve never done this before?” Desmond asked.
“Nope.” He put Desmond on the ground and turned around. He put both hands on the wall as though he was being arrested. He jutted his ass out.
Desmond pulled his pants down, baring that plump brown ass. It was perfectly round, soft and firm at the same time, with just a bit of hair on the crack. Desmond kissed each cheek, making them jiggle. Despite being cooped up in his pants until moments ago, his skin tasted clean and fresh.
A groan came from Raython, who spread his legs like he was expecting to be searched. Or maybe he just really liked Desmond kissing, licking and slurping on his asscheeks and didn’t want to show it, so he covered up his moan of desire with that annoyed groan. His looping, arching back muscles all flexed at once above Desmond’s head.
“You’re a lot more comfortable with this than I expected,” Desmond said. He spread Raython’s ass and dove his tongue right in. Raython’s hole was tight, and Raython yelped when Desmond’s tongue entered it. Even this deep in his ass, Raython tasted very clean, he must have scrubbed up right before coming here. He tasted of cologne, cocoa butter and soap, like a fancy girlish soap with flowers and fruit in it.
“My brother got a nigga…” His voice trailed off like he hadn’t meant to share this, but was distracted by the pleasure in his ass. “I mean…” Raython said, mumbling as he endured Desmond’s rimjob. Desmond giggled, glad to get Raython nervous again. He was just so arrogant and handsome that Desmond felt a deep, abiding urge to make him nervous.
Desmond rammed his tongue in deep. He used a finger to tease the rim, and Raython didn’t complain. Desmond didn’t actually push his finger in, since Raython had said only his tongue was allowed, but Desmond did rub his asscrack and the edge of his hole with one delicate pinkie finger. Raython’s voice rumbled like he was thinking about finishing his story about his brother’s nigga, but then all that came out was another simmering groan. Raython jutted his ass back, giving Desmond better access to lap at his butthole.
“Your brother has a nigga?” As soon as Desmond said that, he jammed his tongue in and aimed it right for Raython’s prostate. He slapped his tongue at it, making Raython’s whole body ripple as pleasure coursed through him.
“He-eeeeee…” Raython tried to answer, but when Desmond’s tongue got deep in there, his words turned into a meaningless moan, as he was unable now to hide how good this felt. Raython even lifted one of his feet like a dog getting scratched in a sensitive spot. Raython’s knees buckled and he almost fell over. “Fuckin’ hell, man… When girls lick my asshole, it ain’t like this…”
“Girls probably lick your ass, not inside your asshole. Girls don’t lick prostates,” Desmond said. “Or at least, not the kind of girls you’d go for.” He smirked and did it again. This time Raython moaned and grunted so passionately his knees did buckle. Raython went down to the ground on all fours, his ass high in the air to give Desmond easy access to it. Desmond ran his tongue all the way from Raython’s taint to the small of his back.
“Yeah… Damn…” Raython said. He cleared his throat and chuckled. “Shit… Okay, swallow my dick now, damn.”
He got up on his feet again, and leaned against the wall. He closed his eyes. Once again, that arrogant jock look was back. His fat cock was rock-hard — he must have really enjoyed that rimjob — and it twitched, visibly on the verge of spewing precum. Its twitches were synced with the rippling and flexing of Raython’s broad chest.
Raython opened his eyes when he realized Desmond hadn’t started yet. He touched his dick, then let go, then touched it again, then let go, and his hands fluttered in the air above Desmond’s head.
“And I’m just supposed to kneel on the concrete?” Desmond asked. He pointed to a pile of blankets on one of the shelves. “Make a little bed for us.”
“Man, I was just on all fours, I ain’t complain…” Raython rolled his eyes and sighed like a kid being told to clean his room, but he did what he was told. He got the blankets down and spread them over the floor. He even added a small pillow for Desmond’s knees. Then he laid down on his back at Desmond’s direction. “Man… We ain’t makin’ love, nigga. Like my brother.”
“What? Tell me about yo’ brother.”
“I ain’t s’posed to say nothin’. No snitchin’, y’know.”
“Your brother’s carrying on with a cop?!”
“No!”
“Then it’s not snitching, technically-“
“What do you know about snitching? You ain’t a gangsta? You a sissy.”
Desmond stopped with Raython’s cock in his hand, the spongy tip rubbing over Desmond’s lips. Desmond wasn’t really upset about being called a sissy. If you worked in a Cityside Barbershop and specialized in jacking off guys, it happened a lot. Desmond wasn’t worried about it. But Raython was a well-spoken and articulate young man in college, he should have known better. And besides that, Desmond thought he could get something more out of him if he made a big deal out of it.
“Donchu call me a sissy-“
“What? You is a…” Raython looked at his dick, throbbing in Desmond’s hand, and he flexed his hips to fuck Desmond’s hand, like he was only slowly figuring out why he didn’t feel Desmond’s mouth on his cock. “You’re mad?”
“You still haven’t told me about your brother and his nigga,” Desmond said. “Now I really wanna know,” Desmond said. He mounted Raython’s crotch and jousted his cock with Raython’s. Raython had a hefty piece of meat, but Desmond’s was substantially thicker. Raython wrinkled his nose like he was disappointed at the sight, and then he wrinkled it even harder when their precum mixed on his shaft. Desmond played with both dicks with one hand, while his other hand massaged Raython’s chest. “If you’re gonna call me names, we might have to move that foreplay up to ‘severe’.”
“Man…”
“I’m gonna keep jousting with you until you tell me what you were gonna say about your brother-“
He snapped, “My brother just got a nigga, okay? When he got outta lockup a couple years ago, he found some sissy dude. He brought him over. He live in my mom’s garage now. He rams his… He rans his ass all the damn time, man. He say it’s how real niggas is. He says thugs should have a couple females and one male. He out there in the garage goin’ at it, nigga. He do ram that boy so hard he knock shit off the walls in the house, man. Don’t you tell no one. He said I can’t spread it around. He said a man should have a couple females and one man but he should keep all but one female a secret. He ain’t keep his females a secret though. Or even his man really. Fuckin’ pansy-ass sissy… man.” His voice trailed off as Desmond swallowed his dick, just the tip at first but Desmond slathered his tongue upon it, and he choked up mouthloads of spit that ran down the shaft. Raython groaned and sighed, muscles relaxing now that he was being serviced again.
Desmond deep-throated him until his nose nestled in Raython’s hairy pubic bush. Desmond kneeled next to Raython, perpendicular to him. But as he kept working on Raython’s meat, he gradually spooned Raython until his cock was rubbing against Raython’s firm bicep. Raython either didn’t notice or didn’t care. Desmond’s precum smeared over his tattooed arms.
Precum flowed down Desmond’s throat, the bright salty flavor assaulting Desmond’s senses as Raython let out a rumbling roar of arousal. Raython gripped Desmond by the ear, guiding his head up and down at a slow but accelerating pace. He sucked on his lips and inhaled sharply as he did, like he had never felt this good. Desmond was proud of himself — that was his specialty, after all, he could make any man beg for more.
Eventually tears welled up in Desmond’s eyes, and he had to take a break to breathe. He gasped for air, stroking Raython’s dick furiously with both hands, while thick tendrils of spit connected Desmond’s face to Raython’s shaft.
“Holy fuck…” Raython moaned. “Shit… Why don’t girls do it like that?”
“Ugly girls do,” Desmond said. “Pretty girls don’t need to impress you with skill.” He giggled and massaged Raython’s chest before resuming his deep-throating. This time he openly humped Raython’s arm as he did. Raython still pretended he didn’t notice, even when Desmond’s dick smeared precum over his bicep, tricep and forearm, and Desmond even humped his armpit til it was greasy with precum.
Eventually Desmond was ready to move on, lest he blow his wad too early. He licked a trail from Raython’s cocktip to his root, then up his muscular chest. He nuzzled Raython’s neck, while Desmond’s bare cock spewed precum on Raython’s side, jetting it up to his ribs and all over his asscheek. Raython’s pecs flexed, one after the other.
“Wait… Are you gonna kiss me on the lips? You’ll taste like cock…”
“Does your brother kiss his man?”
“Yeah… He does nasty shit wit’ him. He says he only tops, but… I seen ‘im in there makin’ out and shit. Is that…?”
“Don’t worry, Raython. Don’t be so worked up about technicalities,” Desmond said. He kissed Raython on the lips again. This time, Raython was hesitant, especially when Desmond’s hard cock again pressed against Raython’s. Their precums mixed.
Raython was so focused on the kiss that he was surprised when Desmond sat down on his rod. His cock slid easily into Desmond’s ass. Desmond mounted him, facing him at first, but when Raython winced, Desmond knew that wasn’t going to work — Raython had to give a reacharound, but he wouldn’t do it if he had to watch as Desmond shot his load onto Raython’s face and chest. So Desmond had to ride him in a reverse-cowgirl position, facing Raython’s feet.
His ass hurt a little as Raython’s cock slipped in, but that lasted only a moment. His manhood throbbed and awakened a tingling sensation in Desmond’s asshole. Desmond winced and struggled to stretch himself open enough gradually he worked more and more of Raython’s meat into his ass. Each inch stretching into him sent a new wave of sensatiosn through Desmond’s body.
“Alright, nigga…” His hand hesitatingly closed around Desmond’s dick, which throbbed beneath his fingers.
Desmond giggled. He so rarely got a reacharound, it was always hot when it happened. He lifted his ass up and down, impaling himself on Raython’s cock while Raython began to stroke his rod. Raython’s thick hands wrapped around Desmond’s cock, which he didn’t need to handle much because Desmond was moving.
It was an awkward handjob, both because Raython was unpracticed and because he wasn’t watching himself. He didn’t want to see his hand wrapped around another man’s cock.
“Does your brother give his man a reacharound?”
Raython murmured, “Yeah, nigga. I think so. He eats his cum,” Raython said. “You can’t tell no one that. Tell everyone I gave you a shitty reacharound too.”
“It is a shitty reacharound.”
“Really?” Raython sounded like he had never been criticized. To his credit, he tried. He sped up his stroking and even used his other hand, holding onto the base of Desmond’s cock and teasing his balls with a gentle touch.
“That’s better, thanks,” Desmond said. Then he threw his head back and moaned. He lowered his shoulders until he rested on Raython’s chest. He turned his head to the side and licked the sweat off Raython’s nipples as he squirmed atop his cock.
At last both men reached orgasm at much the same time. Desmond used all of the focus at his disposal to delay himself until he felt Raython’s rod spray his nut deep into Desmond’s ass. It was a thick, hot load that coated Desmond’s prostate in creamy goodness. It flowed into him in spurts, and each time Raython’s whole body gyrated, his massive muscles all flexing at once, swallowing Desmond up in his arms while filling him up with jizz.
Desmond shot his nut onto his own chest and belly, not to mention Raython’s hands. Raython groaned with the power of his own orgasm — and no doubt a little disgust at the cum dripping from his fingers. Desmond’s load spurted into the concrete floor, while Raython jetted burst after burst of cum inside him.
As soon as he was done, Desmond scooted up on Raython’s chest. He kissed him again on the lips. His body was especially hot right now, its heat seeping into Desmond’s flesh. Desmond wanted to curl up on his chest and sleep there like a cat.
But when Raython felt he had kissed him a reasonable amount, he gently deposited Desmond onto the blanketed floor. Then he jumped up and jogged in place for a minute.
“Alright, nigga, sign that shit. We went well beyond ‘light foreplay’. Don’t put that on there, just sign it,” he said. He sighed. “You best not tell no one ’bout my brother. Or ’bout me. Or ’bout nothin’ at all. Just keep yo’ mouth shut till I come back to fill it again.” He laughed his cocky laugh and wagged his dick between his cum-dripping fingers.
“Okay, sure.” Desmond was too tired now to keep teasing him. He signed the paper.
“You got a shower in this place? Or at least a sink? You can watch me shower,” Raython said with a wink. “I know you want to.”

The Married Cop

When Avery is robbed, he meets up with a cop with a wife and a physique Avery could… and just might worship for days! Officer Heartley is a bull-headed macho cop who needs to get a little relief, and Avery is all too happy to help out!

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Avery was furious about his hotel room being robbed. It was only eighty dollars, but still — having security to prevent this sort of thing was exactly why Avery was loyal to the chain. He had explained this to the manager in no uncertain terms, and he had gotten a refund as well as a free day in the room. That was worth more than what he had lost.
There was nothing to do now, however, but wait and pace. The police were on their way, supposedly. Avery knew the police wouldn’t do anything for eighty dollars, but he wanted to make his statement. This was an annoying distraction when he was trying to be more productive in his life. He wanted to hurry up and file his complaint so he could get back to work.
When the cops arrived, however, Avery was at a loss for words. His blood ran hot and his cock twitched in his pants, his annoyance at the robbery having vanished. One of the officers was a skinny young woman, but the other was a sturdy older man. He was Officer Malcolm Heartley, and he had a square jaw like a superhero.
“Sorry to hear about ya troubles, sir,” Officer Heartley said with the most delightfully full-bodied voice, all baritone echoes emanating from beneath his scruffy throat, a somewhat awkward tremble to it — he was one of those delightfully strong men who weren’t swaggerous and cocky. Avery thought a note of unconfidence made him even more handsome. “So you sure there ain’t nothin’ else missin’?”
“Yeah, that’s it, thanks,” Avery said. He blushed a little because he could feel Officer Heartley looking at him. He wished he could come up with a reason to make Officer Heartley stay.
“Alright, thank you for callin’ it in,” Officer Heartley said. Avery could tell by the look on his face that he didn’t think they would find the money. The woman cop said they would keep looking for the culprit, but Avery didn’t find her very convincing. It was only eighty dollars, after all, Avery thought, surely there were more important crimes in this city.
“Thank you for your help, officer,” Avery said. He clasped Officer Heartley’s well-muscled arm in hand. He shook the woman’s hand too, but he was so blinded by Officer Heartley’s strength and the body heat radiating off him that he shook her hand in an automaton trance.
And that was that, Avery’s distemper was gone, and the hotel-room robbery seemed like a memory from his distant past. Avery loved older men with fantastic physiques, and Officer Heartley was a perfect one. He was dark-skinned, thick and jowly, but not fat, just muscle and meat all over, you could tell he was used to home-cooked meals in a warm home. His face had a few wrinkles under the eyes, and his beard hairs were flecked with gray.
“We’ll call you if we learn anything,” said the perky blonde cop. She was hot too, beautiful really, Avery thought, but he had no interest in her. She was lost in the alluring aura emanating from Officer Heartley.
But he couldn’t stick around. The florist trade-show was over. It was time to go back home. He checked out of his room.
He sat down in the hotel lounge to work on the novel he had promised himself he’d finish a rough draft of on this trip. It took a few hours to get his focus back. He took several breaks, and drank a ton of coffee in a coffeeshop next to the hotel.
He finally got a little writing done around eight o’clock, and he went down to the hotel bar to celebrate afterwards. He was just about to sit when he realized he shouldn’t reward the hotel for letting someone steal from his room. He should go to a different bar.
He had no sooner walked outside, however, when he saw a police car pull into the parking lot. It was Officer Heartley, and he rolled down his window. “Hey, there you are. We caught the guy who had your cash, we can give it back if you come with me. You gotta fill out some forms.”
Avery got in. “Really? You caught him?”
“Yeah, I’m as surprised as you. But he hit a couple hotels in the area, apparently he hacked a swipe card that works in any of them. One of the hotels caught him on camera,” Officer Heartley said as he drove away and Avery buckled his seat-belt.
“Where’s your partner?”
“Oh, we’re off now. She’s out with her hot new boyfriend.”
“Oh, you’re off-duty?! That’s so sweet of you to come get me!” Avery said.
“Well, you know… I don’t like out-of-towners gettin’ the wrong impression ‘bout my town,” Officer Heartley said. “You single?”
“Yes I am,” Avery said. He cleared his throat. “What about you?” He made sure to speak in a slow, seductive tone. Officer Heartley had to know what that meant.
“I’m separated. My wife left me.”
“Oh you poor baby, it must have been a long time since you’ve been with a woman,” Avery said. He patted Officer Heartley’s well-muscled forearm.
He nodded.
“Well you know, I have a magical power,” Avery said. “I can make guys forget about their wives. Who’s got a mouth, an ass and a need to please? This guy!” Avery pointed to himself.
“That’s… I don’t do that, no thank you, sir,” Officer Heartley said, but with a nervous tremble to his voice. Avery could tell he wanted to do it. He was responding to Avery’s flirtatious tone. But a lot of guys did that because they liked the attention, it didn’t mean they were interested. Especially once they were married, many guys were desperate for someone to call them handsome.
“Hmm… That’s unfortunate. Tell your wife I’m going to steal every inch of her husband.”
After a long pause, Officer Heartley said, “I’m not going to tell her that.”
They pulled into the police station then. Avery went in with him, filled out the requisite paperwork and saw the skeezy-looking guy who had been caught. He was sitting there in a hallway in handcuffs. Avery didn’t know that’s who it was until Officer Heartley pointed him out.
When he had his eighty dollars back, Avery headed out to the parking lot. Officer Heartley brought him to the police car. Then he sat behind the steering wheel and didn’t say anything. It looked like he was waiting.
“Officer Heartley?” Avery wondered if he had done something wrong. “Hey, uh… are you okay? You don’t have to take me back to the hotel, I can afford a cab. Or an uber. Or I can walk, it’s like five blocks.”
“Shush…” Officer Heartley said with a desperate gulp. He opened the door for Avery to get in. “I ain’t pervy.”
A long pause ensued. Avery wanted to say fine, but he had just been shushed, so Avery didn’t say anything.
Finally Officer Heartley spoke again. “You, uh… My wife… My wife used to be so different, y’know. I don’t think I changed that much since we got married. We used to go out and she wanted to, y’know…” He glanced at Avery. “Like… she wanted to suck me off, y’know, in the bathroom.”
“What?”
He blushed. “No, I mean, she don’t have a bathroom-fetish, I just mean we’d go out somewhere and she’d wanna bang in like a closet or bathroom or something. She’d wanna suck my dick.” He paused. “But now, she just like… She don’t even wanna look at me. She got kinda fat and her hair is always a mess and she don’t shave her pussy no more, she barely even shaves her armpits, and if I mention it at all, she freaks out, but she is always calling me a fat-ass and when I fart she calls me a nasty shit.” Then he whispered hoarsely. “It makes me feel bad.”
“Oh, you poor baby…” Avery said. He patted Officer Heartley’s belly. He wasn’t fat, but he had a belly there. He looked like he probably had a six-pack back when he met his wife, so any amount of fat might have seemed like a beer-gut to her. Officer Heartley’s muscles rippled beneath his uniform shirt. “You can tell her how you feel. Tell her it hurts your feelings.”
He rolled his eyes. “I, y’know… I can’t say that.”
“You said it to me.”
“Yeah, but you’re… you know.”
“So you can tell a guy you barely know, but not your wife?”
He shrugged. “She won’t care. She’s…” He whispered again. “She’s such a bitch.”
“Do you want me to-?”
“Shush. Don’t say it,” he said. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the headrest of his squad car. It was parked in a row of other squad cars. No one was behind them, just a solid fence with barbed-wire atop it, so they couldn’t be surprised. In the main part of the parking lot, officers currently on-duty met with their partners and sipped coffee before getting in their own squad cars and driving off.
Officer Heartley unzipped his slacks and pulled his cock out. It was big and fleshy, and Avery thought you could tell just by looking at it that no one had been treating it right in a long time. He bet Officer Heartley’s wife even got mad if he jacked off to Internet porn, so Heartley was probably in a world of frustration.
Sure enough, it twitched as soon as Avery touched it. “Oh, it’s so big! Your wife must have loved taking it in her ass when you two were just dating!” Avery smiled at the frustrated look on Officer Heartley’s face. He suspected that, if he kept bringing up anal sex, Officer Heartley would be unable to resist. “I know I couldn’t resist begging for it in my tight asshole if we dating and I was a girl. I would crave this cock all up in me. What was her pussy like?”
His dick twitched beneath Avery’s fingers. Officer Heartley moaned. “Ah, shit, man, it was velvety and smooth and… damn, I want that again. Shit…”
Avery breathed heavily, and he tried to sound as girlish as he could. Officer Heartley’s eyes were closed, his great cavernous chest heaving as he breathed and Avery stroked his dick, slowly and unctuously at first, sliding his hand up and down. He paused to spit onto his palm, which made Heartley moan again when Avery resumed stroking.
“Were you a cop when you met her?”
He shook his head. “I wanted to be. I told her that on our first date,” he said. His voice sounded croaky and tense, his eyes still scrunched shut tightly. “But I was just a painter then.”
“Oh?!” Avery snaked his other hand into Officer Heartley’s pants, from which his cock stuck out through the fly. He handled his sweaty balls.
“Shit, man, that feels so good…” Officer Heartley said. He settled back in his seat like he was ready for this to last a long time.
“I know. I think you’re really handsome in that uniform. And I bet you’d be just as handsome in anything else,” Avery said. He unbuttoned the bottom of Officer Heartley’s uniform shirt, making his undershirt-clad belly visible. He bent over and kissed his belly, blowing a raspberry as though it was a baby’s hairy belly. Officer Heartley laughed and his dick twitched in Avery’s hand. “You’re so manly, your wife is stupid if she doesn’t suck you off all the time.”
Officer Heartley glanced at him, his eyes open now. He watched his cock pulsate, a few drops of precum leaking out and lubricated Avery’s fingers. “Man… I dunno.”
“Nothin’ wrong with men makin’ each other feel good. You just close your eyes and let me make you feel good. Is it okay if I put my mouth on it, sweetie?”
He grunted and gritted his teeth as though being called sweetie turned him on. He shook his head. “Wait… I mean…” His pecs bounced beneath his shirt. “I mean…”
Avery could tell he was wavering. Avery moaned right in his ear. “Oh, sweetie… Your dick needs to get wet, I can tell. It’s so dry. Your balls are so full they’re going to burst, you poor baby.” He unbuttoned his uniform shirt the rest of the way. “What if I just put the tip in my mouth? Okay? Just the tip? I won’t do nothin’ else until you tell me it’s okay.”
His voice was breathless and jagged. “Yeah. Just the tip, okay. Okay.” He put one meaty hand on the back of Avery’s head and guided him down to his cock. Avery opened up and put his cocktip on his tongue, then slurped exuberantly. He spat up plenty of spit that ran down Officer Heartley’s shaft and soaked his crotch.
Now that he was so close to Officer Heartley’s body, he could smell his unwashed clothes — was he in trouble with his wife? Staying in a motel? Possibly, Avery thought.
“Just the tip, okay?” Officer Heartley said, his voice a low throaty rumble.
Avery made eye contact with him, but Officer Heartley immediately closed his eyes. Flopping his hard dick over his face, Avery let out a long cooing moan and called Heartley his baby again. “My sweet little baby… Ooh… Your dick tastes like candy, baby, I wanna make love to your cock.”
“Just the tip.” His voice sounded like he wanted to be firm and confident, but it came out as weak and wavery.
“‘Course, baby, just the tip,” Avery said, trying to hide his disappointment. He used one hand to stroke his shaft, while he kept his mouth on just the tip, suckling loudly, moistly. He had to cram his head in between Officer Heartley’s massive body and the steering wheel.
“Hey! Alan! You in there?”
“I’ll go see, he probably knows where it is.”
Avery heard that, but he couldn’t see because his head was in Officer Heartley’s crotch — and he didn’t even know Heartley’s first name was ‘Alan’. He assumed it was other cops getting into a patrol car. But when he heard their voices getting closer, he lifted his head.
Luckily, the sun shined into the windshield; it would have been blinding, but these patrol cars had glare-canceling windshields. It did make it impossible for anyone outside to see into the car from this angle, however, which was good because Avery saw a pair of uniformed officers some thirty feet away. If it weren’t for that glare, they would have seen Officer Heartley leaning back and then seen Avery’s head pop up from his crotch.
“Shit! Someone’s coming,” Avery said.
Officer Heartley opened his eyes, roared in frustration and jumped into action. He forced Avery’s head back down where it couldn’t be seen, his hard dick still leaking precum onto Avery’s face. He turned the engine on and rammed the car into drive.
“Shit!” Officer Heartley grunted, his voice desperate and plaintive, dick leaking precum over Avery’s cheeks. He drove to the right — which was not the way out of the parking lot, but did mean the officers would be on the driver’s side, so they wouldn’t see Avery without coming very close to the car.
“Where are you going, Alan?”
“Hey, did you see that memo from the DA? We wanted to ask if you knew about the plea forms, how does that work? Sheila said she never heard of them.”
Officer Heartley’s face was ruddy. He rolled down his window and waved as though this was normal, and nothing was wrong. “Hey guys,” he said. His mind whirred, his cocktip now back in Avery’s mouth. “Uh… Yeah… Plea forms are the same thing as those D9s. Just tell Sheila that, you need D9s.”
The other two cops exchanged glances that were both confused and enlightened — that was a helpful answer to their question, they were simply confused because Officer Heartley had a tense, pained expression on his face. But they just assumed he wasn’t feeling well, or had gotten in a fight with his soon-to-be ex-wife on the phone — perhaps, they thought, that was why he had been sitting in his car in this parking lot for a long time.
They just watched the squad car drive all the way around the parking lot, finally leaving onto Poplar Avenue and nearly going the wrong way on it until Heartley realized what he was going. He drove south into downtown.
“You still got your hotel?”
“No, I checked out,” Avery said.
He barely even noticed his hand pressing down on Avery’s head. He didn’t really intend to get deep-throated. That was an uncomfortably pervy idea to him. But he had an instinctual urge to push Avery all the way down on his shaft, plus he wanted Avery to keep his head down. So he did it without thinking about it, without even noticing until he realized Avery’s nose was in his pubic hair.
“Oh god…” Officer Heartley moaned.
His cock tasted amazing: salty and warm and musky, Avery crooned and sucked it all down. He didn’t care about his own throat crying out for oxygen and relief. He wanted to taste Officer Heartley until he had had enough and couldn’t take it anymore.
He drove to the most rundown motel in the bad part of town, a motel that was well-known as the epicenter of the city’s red light district. That was where all the hos brought their johns. Officer Heartley felt disgusted with himself going there at all for non-law-enforcement purposes, but it was where he had driven without thinking about it.
“I’ll get us a room,” he said. He took a deep breath. His cock ached. He wanted to get go at it all night like his wife used to do. He wanted to have so many orgasms it made up for the years his wife had been ignoring him.
But first, he had to awkwardly put his dick back in his uniform slacks and get out of the patrol car. It must have been obvious he had an erection, and he was pretty sure there was even a wet spot on his crotch — he was too excited and exhilarated and mind-bogglingly horny to even look down.
He raced into the front lobby and virtually tossed some cash at the dour-faced man behind the counter. “I need a room!”
“How many hours? Officer?” the man asked. He looked at Officer Heartley as though he thought he was catching him doing something wrong. He probably assumed a cop would only be here because he was getting free services from a prostitute. But Officer Heartley was too horny to stop and explain that he was just jacking off.
“Uh…” He had no idea what was normal. “Overnight.”
“You’re thirty bucks short,” the man said.
Officer Heartley cursed and scowled and handed over his credit card. That hardon wasn’t going away, it just kept throbbing painfully in his clothes.
It took forever, but finally Heartley got his key. He darted out into the parking lot again, and motioned for Avery to come to him. They scampered to the room, Officer Heartley’s pants already coming off even before he opened the door.
He dove onto the bed on his belly — which caused intense pain in his still-erect cock — then he rolled over onto his back. In seconds, his dick was out the fly and in Avery’s mouth. He let out a long, low sigh.
It took a few seconds for either of them to notice that the door was still open. Avery had barely gotten the fresh taste of precum in his mouth before he got up to slam the door shut. He returned to swallowing Heartley’s shaft.
“Oh god, yes…” Officer Heartley held onto Avery by the back of his head, fucking his throat deeply.
It was all over in seconds now. Officer Heartley’s balls crawled up in his sac, and his veiny shaft pulsated in Avery’s throat. Hot, creamy cum coated his mouth and slicked down to his belly. It was thick and warm, and it sat hotly in his stomach.
He tasted salty and sour and a bit sweet, with a strongly musky taste that Avery adored. There were flavors of steel and copper and unwashed fabric, cocoa butter and cheap deodorant. Avery guzzled down every drop, smiling at the sight of Officer Heartley writhing violently beneath him.
Then at last he pulled off, grinning at Officer Heartley’s shocked expression. “That was not just the tip,” Avery said coyly. He stroked his limp dick.
“Yeah, well… I changed my mind.” Officer Heartley groaned. “I paid for this room all night and I busted a nut in about five seconds.”
Avery giggled. “You didn’t think this was all over already, did you? I’m going to stroke your dick until it falls off. And then I’ll find another penis to attach, and I’ll stroke on that till it falls off.” He playfully groped Officer Heartley’s chest beneath his uniform shirt.
“You got spare penises?” He chuckled dryly. He was about to speak again, when there was a loud moan in the hotel room next door.
They both blushed and smiled. This motel rented rooms by the hour to prostitutes, and it seemed there was one such transaction going on right next-door. Officer Heartley sighed and stood up. The moaning from next-door was not too loud — they could only hear the man, whose deep voice was easily audible. Avery could hear a woman’s practiced heavy breathing only when he pressed his ears against the wall.
He yelped and stepped away when a woman let out a little yelp. “I said not to pull my hair,” she said. “Quit it, get off me.” There was a loud thump, it sounded like she had pushed the man off her and he fell off the bed.
“You bitch! I paid for an hour, you best believe I am getting all sixty minutes! I swear I’ll call Bernard-“
“He says no one can pull my hair, not for no amount of money, cuz my hair could fall out-“
“I wasn’t gonna pull ya hair out, you fuckin’ cunt! I just needed somethin’ to grab onto. Ya tiny-ass titties ain’t enough-“
“Oh, you’re complainin’ ‘bout my size? I thought you stuck your nipple in my pussy until I opened my eyes!”
Avery listened to the argument with wide eyes and baited breath. Should he call the police? He realized he didn’t need to just as Officer Heartley was redoing his belt and running out the door. “Stay here,” Heartley said.
Avery didn’t want to get in the way, so he followed orders. He stayed with his ear to the wall so he could hear. Both the man and Officer Heartley shouted at once, as Officer Heartley pounded on the door. Then when it was opened, there was more shouting, with the woman joining in this time.
“Shut the fuck up! You don’t know what was going on here!”
“I do know! I could hear every word-“
“Oh? What were you doing in this place? Huh?”
“Not any bit of your business, motherfucker, it was totally legal,” Officer Heartley said.
Avery poked his head out the door and was shocked to see that the man being led away in cuffs was another cop. Officer Heartley had arrested a state trooper. The woman in the hotel room glanced at Avery without noticing him.
Then Avery just sat and waited in the hotel room. He was glad to have the chance to recover. After a few minutes, he went over and talked to the prostitute. He helped her fix her hair and makeup. She said she didn’t want to file any report about the cop who had attacked her, but Avery talked her into doing it. Some other officers arrived then — Heartley had shown up at the police station, his uniform shirt still unbuttoned and askew, his hair a mess, so he had endured great ribbing and later got written up for dress code violations.
He told them about the state policeman, so others came out take a statement from the prostitute.
Finally the door opened, and Officer Heartley returned to the hotel room. He had fixed his uniform and his hair only to realize he had waited until too late — by the time he came out of the station men’s room looking like a professional, he was no longer needed. He was off-duty again. So he had gotten scrubbed up just to come back to Avery.
“Goddamn,” Officer Heartley said when he saw Avery sitting there on the bed. Avery immediately dropped to his knees and grabbed for Heartley’s crotch as though he was in desperate need for more cock. He didn’t even let him drop his pants, he just undid the fly and started slurping on it until Officer Heartley made him stop long enough to take his pants off.
“Do you wanna stick me in the ass?” Avery asked. He shook his ass towards Officer Heartley. “Please? I want to feel your cock inside me… You can ramrod me so hard, harder than your wife ever let you, I bet. I’ll never make you stop. And you can cum inside me, okay? You can drown me in cum…”
“Shit, boy, don’t talk like that, you’re gonna make me nut…” Officer Heartley closed his eyes again. He stood there, impatiently waiting as Avery took his pants off.
Then, at last, Avery got to back up on his dick. Like a lot of guys, Officer Heartley didn’t really know how to plow a man in the ass, so Avery had to take charge. Heartley just stood there by the bed while Avery lifted his ass up.
He ground his ass against Officer Heartley’s cock, letting it rub against his asshole. He clenched his hole too, making Heartley grunt and writhe. Avery reached behind himself and guided it into his ass.
“Oh, god, it’s so big!” Avery exclaimed. That was not a lie — it was big — but Avery only said it to puff up Officer Heartley’s ego. Besides that, he knew the position he wanted and it might take some effort to talk him into it. “Oh… I don’t know if I can do this,” Avery said.
“You said you could take it no matter what-“
“I didn’t know it was gonna be so big… You’re gonna ruin my ass, it’ll feel so good I never wanna do it again,” Avery said with a plaintive wail. “Hmm… Here, give me your arm.” He backed himself up farther, making Officer Heartley’s whole body shake as his dick sank deeper onto Avery’s ass. Avery took Officer Heartley’s well-muscled arm and wrapped it around himself, in a loose chokehold. That both provided more support and allowed Avery to lick and kiss every inch of Officer Heartley’s arm. “There you go, you’re so strong… I’m sure I can take your dick as long as I feel your strong arms around me, sweetie. That way I’ll know you’re keeping me safe.”
“Hmmm…” Officer Heartley grunted and bucked. His voice broke in Avery’s ear.
Avery loved getting plowed by older men like him. Officer Heartley was so handsome and macho and desperately horny. He craved affection — his wife was mean to him, and his fellow officers always gave him shit, and the civilians he interacted with almost universally hated him — so when Avery moaned and begged for more cock, that was nearly enough to make him cum all by itself.
“Oh god, get it deep in me!” Avery cried out. He wondered if there was anyone else in the motel who could hear that. That made him giggle, burying himself back on Officer Heartley’s cock.
He was all the way in now. Officer Heartley’s ex-wife had never taken it in the ass like this. She’d let him put it in her butt when they were dating, but only a few times, and only until it started to hurt — with a cock like that, it hurt right away. So he’d never had anal sex to completion, never got his entire shaft in her ass.
But Avery took it easily, with just a bit of struggle. Avery exaggerated it over and over to puff up Heartley’s ego. “It’s so big!” He even bit down on Heartley’s forearm, prompting a grunt from Officer Heartley’s lips.
Then they both went down to the bed, Avery squashed by Heartley’s massive bear-like body. Heartley finally began plowing without Avery needing to take charge. He pounded away, sticking his entire foot-long dick in, then pulling out and marveling at Avery’s asshole twinkling, begging for more.
“I’m gonna nut…” He grunted right into Avery’s ear. His wife used to like it when he said that. It was enough to trigger her orgasm, as it triggered Avery’s right now. But now she thought it was gross when he said it, or when he said anything else during sex, or anything at all about sex any other time.
Cum flowed into Avery’s ass. Even though he had already shot his wad once, he shot a huge load again — he must have had a lot built-up in his balls, Avery thought. It dripped out Avery’s ass and onto the motel mattress.
Finally he was done. Avery pulled off him. He had shot his own wad onto the mattress too, and it was now soaked.
Avery wrapped one arm around Officer Heartley’s meaty belly. “We made a big mess, and we’ve still got all night.”
Officer Heartley kissed him chastely on the cheek. “I’ll rent another room, baby. You’re worth it.”
Avery sighed and kissed each of Officer Heartley’s hairy asscheeks. “Let’s make this one filthier first.”

The Cops

Avery works at a coffee shop with a couple police officer regulars, and when they need some cash in a hurry, Avery is all too willing to help them out in exchange for a swing on their alpha-cop meat!

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

The only reason anyone worked nights was that someone had to be there to receive deliveries. So they might as well be open. That someone was Avery. The delivery truck came anytime between two and six o’clock in the morning.
He didn’t mind working nights. He did hate how boring it was, but he liked being up at night. Most of the time, not a single customer came in before five o’clock. Aside from the delivery drivers, the raving homeless and an occasional cop, only two actual, civilian customers had ever come in between two and five in the morning.
So Avery was bored most of the time. Even when the delivery arrived, all he had to do was sign for it and watch the delivery guy drop the boxes off. That happened at the coffee shop all through the dawn. It was just boring enough to make Avery long for the comfort of his bed.
Then there was Officer Tripiani. He was a regular. The regular, really. He came in most nights for a cuppa coffee and a donut, and he usually wound up chatting with Avery. Avery found him compelling, and his sturdy physique attracted Avery’s eye. Tripiani was an olive-skinned dago with no neck and a well-muscled body — he was an amateur bodybuilder when he found time to lift weights, which wasn’t often. He was squat and tattooed, with a craggy chin and a thick mess of black hair.
Tripiani and usually one or two other cops sat in the coffeeshop to talk, usually around three o’clock in the morning. It was the closest thing to excitement Avery got to witness most of these night shifts. They never did anything interesting, but it was more compelling than the empty store.
“Yo, hey, yo, I’ll shake it as I walk ovuh there, if you get me a laage brew cawffee with cream, no sugaa,” said Officer Tripiani, in his smooth New Jersey stawk, accent that fit him like the fitted baseball cap he wore when he was off-duty. He spoke so suddenly, appearing behind Avery in the front door, that Avery yelped and jumped. His heart raced.
It took Avery a moment to realize what he had said. Officer Tripiani shook his ass like a stripper in Avery’s direction as he walked to the table where the other cops sat. They hooted and laughed, and Tripiani sat down.
Avery got him his coffee, and he put it down in front of him at the table. Tripiani’s broad shoulders stretched his shirt, and his cheeks burned a bright red.
“Hey, Avery, Trip here was hoping to kiss you on the lips-“
“You wanna make out? He just wants to cuddle-“
“You’s guys can go fuck yaselves,” Tripiani said. His dimples flashed a smile at Avery. “They’s just a buncha assholes, hon, don’t worry about ’em.”
They all burst into laughter. Avery blushed and walked away.
Something similar happened a couple days later, then a couple days after that. The other cops, pudgy as pillows, all of them, thought Tripiani’s muscular body was funny.
As a keen admirer of the male form, Avery didn’t object. He didn’t think Tripiani’s muscles were funny, he thought they were ideal. Avery would have gladly kissed and cuddled with Tripiani. But he rarely got more than a quick grope of his biceps or of the meat of his torso, which was hot and firm and usually a little moist with sweat, and Avery could feel his body hair underneath the fabric of his police uniform.
That was as far as it went until one morning, soon after midnight — that was earlier than the cops ever came in. Avery had only just come on duty.
Officer Tripiani stepped in. He smiled goofily. “Hey, man, uh… hey.” He looked around the shop. “I’m glad no one else is here.”
“Hi,” Avery said. He liked it when Tripiani came into the Darling Donuts. He had a warm solidity to him, and he made the whole place feel cozier.
“So, like… I’m trying to save some money, man, I got real financial problems. I got two ex-wives and three cars I’m making payments on,” he said. “It’s messed up, I don’t even got any of those three cars, I wrecked one, my wife wrecked one and she took the third.”
“Uh-huh.”
“So, I, uh, I gotta save some cash,” he said. “Or maybe make some money. You know what I mean?”
“Uh-huh.” Avery blushed because Tripiani came even closer. He could smell his toothpaste-scented breath.
“I thought, maybe… you might want me, y’know… I know you want it… I thought, like…” Tripiani blushed, leaned in and whispered in Avery’s ear. “You could jack me off, man.” He chuckled as Avery shuddered, his knees going weak. He instinctively reached out, grabbing Tripiani’s barrel-chested torso for support. Tripiani licked his lips. “You gimme free coffee every night when I come in here. I’ll let you jack me off as much as you want. Huh? Whatchoo think man?” He stepped even closer, his bulging crotch pressed against Avery’s thigh. “I know you want it, baby. Know dat! Know! Dat!” He snapped his fingers.
“Uh… Well… Isn’t that illegal?”
“Nah. Nah, don’t worry ’bout that, man. You just givin’ coffee to a friend. At worst, that’s misunderstandin’ ya store policy. And you just givin’ out handjobs to that friend, ain’t nothin’ wrong wit’ two sober, consentin’ adults doin’ the ol’ handy-tug tango, ya feel me, homeslice? So you see, there ain’t no crime goin’ on here.” He paused. “Don’t tell the other cops though. If they ask, tell ’em I don’t pay cuz I gots a tab on account of I did some work for the owner.”
“Okay.” Avery was in a trance. He ‘d been daydreaming about doing something similar, but he assumed Tripiani would turn him down.
Before he knew what was happening, they were in the bathroom in the back of the store. The door wasn’t closed so Avery could hear if someone came into the shop. Tripiani dropped his slacks and his boxers. His uniform shirt covered his cock though, until Avery reached underneath and pulled his foot-long dick out.
Trip raised his eyebrows like a cocky bastard. Avery stroked it slowly, while Trip threw his head back and moaned. His dick twitched right away in Avery’s hand.
“You have a giant cock,” Avery said. His free hand explored under Trip’s uniform shirt, massaging his muscles. Trip’s nostrils flared when Avery touched his nipple, but he didn’t make him stop.
“I know. You can tell people that part, tell ’em you begged me to see it and I whipped it out for you,” Officer Tripiani said. He chuckled.
Avery dropped to his knees. “Is it okay if I put my mouth on it?”
“Nah, nah, that’s sailors and convicts.” He bristled and sniffled. “And black guys.”
“Just the tip? Come on…” Avery blushed. He had never had to talk someone into dome before. He stroked more quickly as Trip sped up. Avery considered trying to slow Trip down, to prevent him from cumming too soon — that way he might let Avery jerk him off.
Tripiani smiled down at him. He began flexing his hips, fucking Avery’s hand like a pussy as precum began leaking down his shaft
“Hey, come on, use both hands, man…” He firmly guided Avery’s free hand to his dick as well, and Avery began stroking with both hands.
Trip had a nice, huge cock that pulsated in his fingers. Avery arranged his hands to jack him off right onto his face. Trip grinned at that, and moaned, his whole body twitching, muscles flexing beneath his uniform.
His pants, up to this point, had been bared just enough to let his cock come out through the fly of his boxers. But all of a sudden, the weight of his gun and utility belt made his pants fall to his ankles.
As if that was the trigger he was waiting for, Officer Tripiani moaned and writhed. He grabbed Avery’s head, pushed his mouth onto his cock, then grunted and laughed at himself like he hadn’t meant to do that.
“God, sorry-” His voice broke.
Avery got about a tenth of a second to taste to the tip of his dick as Tripiani rubbed the cocktip over his tongue, but then he just barely touched Avery’s lips. Finally he came like that, the tip of his dick right at the entrance to Avery’s mouth.
But since Avery wasn’t actually swallowing anything, his mouth wasn’t open, so all of Tripiani’s cum sprayed over Avery’s face and coated his lips. It dripped down his neck and onto his own uniform polo shirt.
“Ah, shit, ah, shit, ah, shit, man, you give good handjobs… Shit… lick it, okay? Shit, swallow it, no wait, just put the tip in ya mouth-” He was already mostly done orgasming when he said that, but Avery didn’t mind. He rammed his head down on Tripiani’s cock. “I mean, just a little, just slurp on it… I mean, don’t do nothing with it, but put it in your mouth… Just put it in your mouth a bit…”
It was too big to deep-throat, but Avery swallowed the first couple inches of it, getting Trip’s last few cumwads in his mouth. Trip shook as though it hurt, having one of the most animated orgasms Avery had ever seen, even grabbing the wall behind himself for support as he nutted.
Finally he was done. Avery giggled as he pulled off his cock. Since Trip had tried not to cum in Avery’s mouth, most of his semen had spilled. It now soaked Avery’s uniform polo shirt and Trip’s uniform slacks.
“Shit,” Trip said. “I’ve got spare pants out in the car. Can you go get them?”
Avery had to change his shirt too, but his coffee shop had a box of spare shirts in the back. Trip just stood there, pants around his ankles, gasping for air, still too overwhelmed to do much of anything. He hadn’t even taken his belt off yet even though he would need to in order to put clean pants on.
“I’ll go out there for you if you let me have a lick,” Avery said. “Just one lick.” He got back down on his knees. He made a big show of planting his tongue on the tip of Officer Tripiani’s cock, which made his whole body shake as it reawakened his orgasm, and then Avery licked all the way down his shaft, to his balls, and then he awkwardly crawled between Tripiani’s legs above his soaked pants — making Trip grunt and flare his nostrils, demanding again that Avery go get him pants — before he licked up Trip’s bare, hairy ass.
Avery had promised to only lick him once, but Avery intended to make that lick last as long as possible. Once Trip realized that, he sighed. Since he had still never taken his shirt off, Trip’s body was not easily accessible. Avery didn’t mind, licking him while moving his uniform out of the way so he could crawl back and forth between his legs.
Finally, Avery lost his balance and his tongue came off Trip’s asscheek. Trip sighed. “Okay, that was one lick. Damn, man, come on, go get my pants.”
Avery took the keys from him. “Okay, but one last rule. You gotta watch my ass as I walk away.” He didn’t verify, but he shook his ass and he was pretty sure Trip watched. Avery wondered if he could get Trip in his ass eventually.
He thought he could. It would just take a little time.
Luckily he had plenty of time. Tripiani came back most every night that he worked and sometimes even on his off nights. He always livened up Avery’s shifts.
Officer Tripiani was a friendly and charming man. Avery thought it might have been awkward to interact with him once he started giving him handjobs for free coffee — what a strange trade, Avery thought. But Tripiani was always charismatic, and he didn’t seem to be in the least bit awkward about it.
The other cops knew. Tripiani had said not to tell them, but it seemed Avery didn’t need to. They whispered about him, they made jokes about getting a free donut in exchange for letting him jerk him off. It was obvious Tripiani had told, or maybe they had guessed.
That only changed when Avery ran into Tripiani outside of the coffee shop. He was walking out of a nightclub on his night off. He snuck out into the alley, where he was blinded by flashing blue lights. There were cops right there on the main street. Avery came forward only to see that he was blocked, trapped in the alley by a cop car.
It was Officer Tripiani, standing there by his car with his partner, while another gaggle of cops pushed a trio of screaming Puerto Ricans into three separate cars. It looked like the Puerto Ricans had been drunkenly brawling just moments ago. Tripiani and his partner, Officer Heartley, were on crowd control, so they just watched as the other cops trundled off with perps in cuffs.
“Hey, Trip,” Avery said. “You wanna move your car? Or should I just shove it up your ass and tickle your prostate with it?” He paused and grinned. “Or should I just climb over the hood? I’ve had two drinks, not much but enough that climbing over a cop car might be difficult.”
“Oh, shit, Avery! Hey!” Tripiani threw his hands in the air. “Holy fuck!”
The black cop, Heartley, looked nervously at Avery. He bit his lip and shifted his weight. Tripiani looked at him and gestured towards Avery.
Heartley older than Tripiani, and he wasn’t a bodybuilder, so he didn’t have that squarish, blocky shape. But he was naturally thick-bodied, with a bristly mustache and a powerful frame that made Avery drool.
“You said you listen to hip hop, right, Avery?” Tripiani asked. Avery was trying to find a graceful way to climb over the cop car out of the alley, but it looked impossible from any angle. He would likely dent the hood any way he went, and he’d look like a clumsy imbecile.
“Yeah.”
“Heartley here is a rapper,” he said. “He raps, like Eminem-“
“Watch it.”
“He’s so good, he used, like, all the rhymes.”
“Man, shut up, Trip, we ain’t on a blind date,” Officer Heartley said. “I’m not a rapper. I just got this-“
“He is so a rapper. He rapped for me like an hour ago-“
“I’m not a rapper, Trip! I sing along with the radio too, I’m not a singer-“
“You didn’t just rap along with the radio, you were freestyling-” Officer Tripiani said.
“That don’t make me a rapper!” Heartley rolled his eyes. “Trip, just mind your own business.”
“My own business was not tellin’ you jack-shit. If you pay that bitch Kendra this month, it’s only because I ain’t mind my own business-“
“You don’t gotta talk me up like a fucking wingman!” Heartley said with a growl. He looked at Avery. “Look, ignore Trip, he’s a fucking retard. I ain’t like him — I know you give him handjobs.”
“Fuck you, Heartley!”
“I need two hundred dollars, man. If I don’t pay my child support on time… well, I’ve put men in handcuffs for less,” Heartley said. “So, uh… I was gonna come find you later-“
“No you wasn’t. You don’t know him, Heartley. I was going to help you, on account of me being so nice-“
“I knew which coffee shop he worked at-“
“He wouldn’t pay to jerk you off if you’re just some random stranger-“
“Oh like you’re some kinda of expert, Trip, come on! You know how often guys check me out? I’m a black man with a nice ass, I could get paid for a nut every time I go to the gym!” Heartley straightened his uniform. “Not like you, you fucking dago troglodyte.”
For a moment it looked like a fight was going to break out.
Then Avery, still a little confused, said, “what?” He was still trapped in the alley by the cop car. The arrest was complete now, so Heartley and Tripiani had no reason to remain here.
Heartley turned to look at him. “Sorry. I ain’t mean for him to be so blunt about it-“
“Oh please, Heartley-“
“Shut up, Trip!” He glared at him, then forced a charming smile aimed at Avery. “I need money and I heard, y’know…” He sighed. “I was gonna be subtle, just so you know. I was gonna seduce you. It wasn’t gonna be some grimy shit. This is Trip’s fault, he just came right out and said it-“
“Heartley, damn it, I will smash your goddamn teeth in!”
“I need two hundred dollars for child support or I’m going to jail next month,” Heartley said. “Can you do it? You can jerk me off.”
“Oh, uh…” Avery’s mind raced. He wanted to do it, of course, but could he afford it? Even as his mind considered his finances, his mouth kept on going. “Hell yeah!”
Heartley smiled, and Tripiani howled with laughter. Heartley hopped over the car hood and walked deeper into the alley. Avery followed, leaving Trip there to holler — it was obvious he was either nervous or maybe a little upset that Avery hadn’t argued about Heartley being more handsome than him.
But Heartley and Avery ignored him. There was a spot behind the dumpster in this alley where men often came to bust a nut after leaving the nightclub. That was where they went now. There was even an old ratty pillow there for Avery to kneel on.
He unzipped the fly of Heartley’s uniform slacks, and let his big, veiny cock flop out. Heartley sighed like he had been waiting a long time for this.
“Is my dick bigger than Trip’s?” Heartley asked when Avery jerked on the tip. Just like Trip, Heartley only unzipped his slacks to let his cock flop out.
“I don’t know, maybe. You’re both big. You’re both about the same size-“
“I’m bigger, we’ve compared it. I’ve got about a quarter-inch. Ask that Asian prostitute on Canal Street. You know her?”
“Oh yeah, there’s nothing I love more than female whores. We talks about boobs and vulvas all night long, and there’s nothing I love more than a vagina that smells like bread.”
“Okay, you don’t need to be bitchy. Well she measured, and she said I was bigger by a quarter-inch. She was very precise.”
Avery smiled. “Well, she is Asian. They’re good at math,” he said. “Can we stop talking about girls now? I wanna jerk you off-“
“Fine, yeah.” He let Avery resume jerking, then hollered out to Trip. “He said mine’s bigger! He said you were wrong, black dicks taste better!”
“I didn’t say that, Trip!” Avery yelled.
“Man-” Heartley was about to complain to Avery, but then Trip shouted a bunch of insults into the alley. Heartley shouted back to him, and stood there yelling at his partner while Avery got him hard.
He only stopped when his dick twitched, fully erect now, and a few drops of salty precum hit Avery’s tongue. Heartley grunted and writhed like he was surprised at how good this felt, but didn’t want to admit it.
“Damn, man, I swear, you do that pretty good. Not bad at all,” Heartley said — which sounded like a major overstatement. Avery knew he was good, he was certainly better than the trashy girls who usually jerked Heartley off. Heartley smiled. “Almost as good as this stripper I used to fuck wit’-“
Trip bellowed — he had come closer, though he faced away so he didn’t have to watch, making his voice loud — “is he talking about Destiny? She was a plus-size stripper, Avery. She was this thick!” Avery and Trip both faced away from each other, so Avery couldn’t see what gesture he was making.
“I ain’t embarrassed, man, I love big girls. There ain’t nothin’ wrong with that!” Despite his confident words, Heartley sounded embarrassed. “That just means there’s more cushion for the pushin’.” He cackled. “Hey, man, hey man, hey, can I throat you down?” He asked like he thought Avery would say no.
“Yeah, please,” Avery said. He had thought that was assumed.
Heartley clapped his hands. “Ah, shit, ah, shit, alright,” He gripped Avery’s ears. He was so excited he danced a little on his feet, making his balls sway and slap against Avery’s chin. He had a big dick, so girls rarely let him do any throating. His eyes opened wide as pleasure visibly coursed through his body, and he kept daggering his hips, making love to Avery’s throat over and over.
It all ended up only lasting a few seconds, but it seemed like forever to Avery, who loved every moment of it. He submitted as Heartley pounded at his throat, making him gag and sputter and choke. The taste of his throbbing, precummy cockshaft made Avery moan and stroke himself off, soon shooting his wad onto the garbage-strewn alley floor.
Avery opened his throat as wide as he could, letting Heartley plow away at him. His hands flailed, massaging Heartley’s plump ass and his uniformed muscles. Finally, as Avery began to get dizzy from lack of oxygen, he felt Heartley’s balls crawl up in his sac.
Then creamy, salty cum filled Avery’s throat. He didn’t taste it at first because Heartley’s dick was so deep in his neck, he just shot his cum directly into Avery’s belly. It sat there hotly, filling him up with warmth.
“Oh god, yeah, fuckin’ swallow it, girl, swallow it, shit…” Heartley murmured. When he called Avery girl, it made Trip laugh and clasp Heartley on the back. Heartley’s whole body rippled underneath his uniform shirt as he shot another burst of jizz down Avery’s gullet.
Every time Avery tried to pull off his cock, Heartley like the motion caused a sensation too intense to feel good, and he tensed up, standing on his toes and sucking in his breath. That accompanied another cumwad spurting into Avery’s throat, and then Avery didn’t pull off until he was thought he was done. Then it happened all over again. Heartley must have been horny as hell, Avery decided, that was why he shot such huge loads.
Finally he was done. Avery kept going as long as he could, but soon Heartley pushed him off. Avery took a deep breath, then cleaned the cum off his face. Heartley’s sweaty face was tense, his eyes closed. It was obvious he hadn’t really thought it would be that good of an orgasm, but he didn’t want to let on in front of Officer Tripiani.
“Well, shit,” Heartley said. “You got mad skills, whiteboy.” He sighed. He let his dick dangle between his legs for awhile, looking at it like he didn’t understand why it wasn’t doing anything. It lay limp, moist and gleaming, so overstimulated you could practically see the lines of post-nut ache emanating from the shaft. It was dark and glistened until Tripiani wiped it off with the tail of his uniform shirt. Avery played with it a bit too — there was something wonderfully alluring, Avery thought, about playing with a limp penis. Hartley watched him flop his dick left and right, making no effort to take it away and put it back in his uniform pants. “Thanks. That was… Don’t forget, you owe me two hundred dollars.”
“Just come by the coffee shop tomorrow night. I’ll go to the ATM,” Avery said. He kissed the tip of Heartley’s limpening cock. “And maybe I can play around a little more before I hand it over.”
Heartley wrinkled his nose, then he finally tucked his dick back in his pants. He zipped up the fly and straightened the belt. “Maybe,” he grunted. “We’ll see.”

The Mechanic

Teddy is getting his car repaired at the legendary Screw Tight auto garage, and that means he gets a ride on the studly mechanic of his choice. He choose the outrageously muscled redneck Duncan Walsh, who had no idea what kind of man-on-man experience he was in for. Can Teddy satisfy his man and get his muffler fixed?

Read the whole thing here!

Read the whole thing here!

Teddy moseyed down the street. He was just killing time until class started again. This was such a college town that when school was out, the streets were deserted. Teddy stayed on campus through Thanksgiving by himself. It had been nice to be alone for awhile. Campus was ordinarily so crowded.
When his car had broken down, Teddy finally felt trapped. He hadn’t wanted to leave town, but now that he couldn’t, he felt a need to go somewhere, anywhere.
He knew very well that Mr. Jackson was an old, fat, greasy man, and he was a serious, non-nonsense Christian church-goer, so he would probably not allow Teddy to service his mechanics instead of paying the bill in cash. Mr. Jackson owned the Screw Tight Auto Repair Garage mechanic shop, which was where Teddy’s car sat waiting for him. He was always nervous picking his car up after repairs. He didn’t know enough about cars to know if the mechanics were screwing him over (in a bad way).
But it all went perfectly. Teddy paid for his car — it needed a couple new spark plugs — and then signed documents in front of the pretty blonde girl who worked there. The name on her ample bosom said her name was ‘Sally’. His eyes were drawn to the macho mechanics in the repair shop, which he could see through a window separating the office from the garage.
“Howdy,” said Mr. Jackson, who walked into the front office with a clipboard in hand. He handed it to the pretty blonde. Then he smiled at Teddy. “You got a nice ride out there. Could use a little work on the muffler, you know. It’s probably lowerin’ yer gas mileage, a good ten percent. Whatchoo think?”
Teddy smiled. “Maybe in a few weeks. Money is pretty tight right now. I can’t afford anything that isn’t absolutely required,” he said with a sigh. It wouldn’t be a visit to the auto mechanic without a bunch of vague claims of nonspecific faults that need to be fixed.
“If’n you agree to it right now,” he said, “We can do it for just four hundred dollars. That’s a right nice deal. Normally like eight hundred, but we gonna need a re-carburetor to get it done and we ain’t gotta order one at this moment, it’s sittin’ right there in the garage-” he pointed through the window, at his mechanics, “-next to Duncan there. So I ain’t gotta charge you fo’ that.”
“Uh… Still though, four hundred dollars is a lot of money.” Teddy was distracted by Duncan, the redneck mechanic with a body like a Marine and tattoos like a biker. He was grizzled and broad-shoulder, with a handsome face and a powerful body. Teddy was a keen admirer of the male form, so Mr. Duncan Walsh attracted his attention and wouldn’t let it go. It was possible Mr. Jackson said more about his proposal. He nattered on about something.
But Teddy remained noncommital.
“I understand. We can get it done while you wait,” Mr. Jackson said. He followed Teddy’s gaze into the repair shop. It looked like an argument had developed, and Duncan’s face screwed up tight as he screamed something at the black mechanic with the face like a bar of melted chocolate and a voice like his throat was coated in bark and splinters. The black mechanic Bunker screamed right back at the white mechanic Duncan. Mr. Jackson scowled at them both through the window, then said, “‘Scuze me for a second, suh.” Mr. Jackson opened the door into the garage. The sound of the two men arguing filled the air.
“Fuck you then! You think I can’t kick yo’ ass again!?”
“You redneck shit! I’ll pop yo’ goddamn face off! Don’t think I won’t!” Bunker Fiddle put his fists up. “I’ll beat a whiteboy down any day of the week!”
“Hey!” Mr. Jackson bellowed. His big belly shook, and his face turned red. “You two shit-fucks shut yer fuck-shittin’ mouths or I will fuck your shit up so bad yer mama don’t recognize yer shit… Fuck!”
There was a long silence. Then the two mechanics rolled their eyes and nodded.
“Yessuh.”
“Sorry, Mistuh Jackson.”
Mr. Jackson glanced at Teddy and shrugged. He looked back at the mechanics. “Hug it out, boys!”
“What?”
“No fightin’! Hug it out! Nice long hug, boys, pretend you like each other,” Mr. Jackson said. Their flesh was taut, shiny with engine oil and dried sweat. One was white and the other was black, but both had very similar skin color — the white one, Duncan, was so tan and dusky-skinned, not to mention smudged with black grease, that he was barely lighter than the black one, who was fairly light-skinned to begin with. Teddy hadn’t intended to leer at the hugging men, but he realized he had done so when Mr. Jackson chuckled and patted him on the shoulder.
Duncan shook his head. “Sorry, uh, Mistah Jackson. I-“
“Shush.” Mr. Jackson turned to Teddy. “I think I know what you need to get that muffler fixed,” Mr. Jackson said. “How ’bout you pay four hundred dollars, and one of ’em there fixes it while you… wait.” It sounded like he didn’t mean wait exactly, but Teddy wasn’t sure what he did mean.
It was hard to think about much when Teddy could see that Duncan Walsh’s powerful arms bare in his sleeveless shirt. He had a very admirable physique, and Teddy was eager to admire it in person. That made it hard to pay attention to what an old fuddy-duddy like Mr. Jackson had to say.
“Uh… Well…”
“Which one you like better?” Mr. Jackson asked. His mustache moved up and down when he spoke, and his greasy belly jiggled under his shirt. “Either one of ’em can fix the muffler. You take the one you like best. The othuh one can fix it fer you, wit’ a quickness.”
Teddy smiled. “Take ’em… and do what?”
“Whatevuh you want,” he said with a shrug. “So long as you don’t make ’em-” He paused and looked to the pretty blonde girl behind the desk. “Sally, why don’t you take yer lunch break? This is man-talk.”
She giggled and blushed. She nodded knowingly as though she was aware of exactly what was going on, but she didn’t want to admit that because a nice Southern gal shouldn’t know about this stuff. She grabbed her purse and hurried out the door. You could just tell her lunch was gonna be a twelve-dollar “coffee” that was mostly whipped cream, that she’d buy because a liquid felt lighter than a solid meal, even if the liquid had copious added sugar.
Or maybe Teddy was just being judgemental today.
Once the door slammed shut, Mr. Jackson frowned. “I don’t ‘pprove of this nonsense, by the way. A man should subdue his lusts, not exercise ’em,” he said. “But you can take a swing on whichever piece of meat strikes yer fancy. They ain’t gonna let you in they backdoor, mind you, I ain’t gonna order ’em to do nothin’. Don’t you try and stick ’em.”
“No, sir,” Teddy said. He blushed. “That’s not what I’m into.”
“I ain’t think so,” he said. He sniffled. “Which one you like?”
“Duncan. The white one,” Teddy said.
“Really? I thought you was leanin’ towards that dark meat. Mosta the swishy sorts do prefer a colored feller,” Mr. Jackson said. Then he said, cautiously, “African American.” He waited to see if Teddy was going to lecture him, and when he didn’t, Mr. Jackson nodded dourly. “Wait here.” He went into the garage. He talked to the two mechanics for a few minutes, then they both burst into laughter.
Mr. Jackson turned around and motioned for Teddy, who came into the garage. It smelled like grease and gasoline, and below that was a fainter melange of human scents: sweat, piss, spit, cum. Teddy was already starting to get hard. He always thought these sorts of handyman blue-collar repair-type places were arousing. So much better than a strip club, he thought.
He handed the key to his car over to the black mechanic Bunker Fiddle, who ran out to get it and start work on the muffler. He opened the garage door on his way out.
Duncan’s swarthy face was bright red beneath the layer of dirt that darkened his skin, and his pecs kept rippling whenever he snorted or licked his teeth, as his eyes roamed up and down Teddy’s body. Duncan flared his nostrils. He blanched and looked away when Teddy walked to him. His bulky chest didn’t fit in his filthy overalls, and his massive pecs spilled out — he didn’t wear a shirt underneath, so his chest was bare beneath his overall-straps, aside from the smudges of dirt, faded tattoos, dense hairs and twisted scars.
“You ready to go, Duncan?” Mr. Jackson said with a laugh. His big meaty hand grabbed Duncan’s crotch through his overalls.
“Yessuh,” he said, bristling at Mr. Jackson’s touch. He stood on his toes, his massive cock plainly visible in his overalls and framed by Mr. Jackson’s hand. Though his eyes flittered around, Duncan avoided looking at Teddy.
Teddy sunk to his knees, his dick rock-hard already in his pants, in front of Duncan and behind a counter that was all that blocked Teddy from view of anybody happening past. Teddy’s heart sped up. He wasn’t expecting to get to taste a throbbing slab of alpha-male mechanic meat when he brought his car in today.
With Teddy’s hands sliding up Duncan’s body and groping his powerful chest, Duncan licked his lower lip. He looked like he was eager to get his dick wet but didn’t want to look too eager. He sneered in Teddy’s direction without looking at him.
“You want me to do this here?” Duncan asked, aiming the question at Mr. Jackson.
Mr. Jackson shrugged. “I don’t care. Just don’t make a mess,” he said. Then he looked down to Teddy and said it again. “Don’t make a mess. You swallow e’rything he give you.” He walked back into the office. “Be done before Sally gets back. If she sees you, I’ll beat both yer asses.”
“Yessuh.”
“Yes, sir,” Teddy chimed in. He grabbed Duncan’s cock through his filthy workjeans and rubbed the shaft, making Duncan bristle and shift his weight between his feat.
The garage door opened and Teddy’s car slowly drove in. A loud house music beat pounded from the speakers, the entire car shaking. The music resonated in the garage, and the black mechanic driving it danced behind the steering wheel, laughing. The beat was pulsating, eminently danceable and not at all something a black redneck would listen to, so the sight of Bunker Fiddle dancing to it in the driver’s seat made Teddy laugh.
“Yee-haw, Duncan! You gonna blow a nut prison-style, toot-sweet!” The black mechanic shouted. He turned off the car once it was in place, and the music stopped. He got out of the car and activated the lift so he could get under it.
At last, Teddy unzipped the fly of Duncan’s overalls. He smiled up at him, but Duncan kept his eyes straight ahead. His fat, uncut cock popped out. It was long, greasy with dried-on sweat, and it smelled like the most potent scents in the garage, all distilled into a delicious juicy sheen from which Teddy inhaled deeply.
He stuck his tongue out, licking the shaft from tip to root. That made Duncan chuckle and shift his weight on his feet once more. He snorted. He covered his eyes with his meaty forearm. His cheeks were red, though he kept up a nonchalant face for Bunker Fiddle’s benefit.
His dick stiffened up in Teddy’s mouth. He was slow to get hard, but once his dick twitched one time, it quickly turned form as stone. Duncan’s pecs flexed, and Teddy could see the moment when Duncan realized how good this felt, when his anxieties over the situation diminished enough that he could really enjoy it.
For the first time since this had begun, Duncan looked down at Teddy. Then he frowned and turned his face away again. He sniffled. “Dang…”
“You ‘njoyin’ that, Duncan?” The black mechanic Bunker called out as he banged and rattled on Teddy’s car. He hooted and whistled in between examining the bad muffler, getting it ready for the repair.
“Hell yeah,” Duncan said with a grunt. His dick was fully hard now, throbbing in Teddy’s mouth, as Teddy slurped on the entire length of it.
“I bet. You look like you ‘njoyin’ yo’self pretty much,” said the black mechanic Bunker Fiddle. He was quiet a bit older than Duncan, and he dripped with swagger and had a delicious ropy-muscled body. Bunker clapped his hands. “You lookin’ like a piggie. Skin all pink and greasy like a hog. I wanna smoke and cure yo’ bacon, whiteboy!” He cackled up Duncan.
“You ain’t gotta keep talkin’ to me,” Duncan muttered.
“Oh, that make you uncomfortable, big boy?” The black mechanic Bunker Fiddle whistled again, like he was watching a stripper dance. “Shake yo’ ass, big boy! Lemme see it move!”
Teddy interrupted Duncan before he could respond by ramming his head all the way down onto Duncan’s cockshaft. Duncan reacted as though he had never been deep-throated, which was very possible true — his dick was so big few women would even try to swallow the whole thing. Not Teddy. Teddy prided himself on the accommodating nature of his throat, and he didn’t care how much his lungs cried out for oxygen. It felt so good for Duncan that he let out a little moan. His knees buckled and his hefty body shook, his barrel chest flexing. He groaned and grumbled.
As the smell of engine grease was replaced with man-sweat in Teddy’s nostrils, his hands patted Duncan’s ass though his overalls, and those massive plump asscheeks trembled. That made the black mechanic laugh and yell.
“Shake it some mo’, big boy! Lemme see ya move!” Bunker Fiddle walked by with a dirty rag in hand. He peered behind Duncan’s strapping body, whistled at his asscheeks shaking beneath Teddy’s fingertips. He laughed and slapped those cheeks again.
“Okay, man, it’s just an ass, shut up ’bout it…” Duncan muttered.
“Why you teasin’, huh? Take them overalls off.” The black mechanic Bunker made a kissy face, then ripped the clasps on the back of Duncan’s overalls. They would have fallen to the ground but were held aloft by Duncan’s cock sticking out through the fly. Teddy pulled the overalls down the rest of the way over his erection, and Duncan’s tattered white boxers beneath that. The black mechanic cackled at the sight of his bare ass. He slapped those cheeks again, making a porno-strip club soundtrack, whock-whock-whock as he watched Duncan’s hairy orbs bounce beneath his hand.
“Hey! One of you gotta work. I don’t care which is which, but get to it!”
“Sorry, Mistuh Jackson,” said the black man as he resumed working on the muffler. He activated the lift to raise Teddy’s car. The machinery was overwhelmingly loud for a moment, drowning out the sound of Teddy’s moist suckling on Duncan’s cock.
When it stopped whirring and making the entire garage shake, Teddy lowered his head and plopped both of Duncan’s balls in his mouth. Duncan bristled and shook like he was shocked, and a torrent of salty, funky sweat poured down Teddy’s throat. He loved the musk of a man’s underball; it made Teddy’s cock stiffen up in his own hand.
“Will you stick me in the ass?” Teddy asked. It looked like Duncan was about to say no, so before he could, Teddy dropped his pants all the way down and displayed his plump, smooth ass. “I just shaved it, so it looks just like a girl’s ass.” He shook his cheeks in front of Duncan. Teddy did not mention that he was just going to ask Mr. Jackson if Duncan said no. Mr. Jackson would probably tell him to do it.
He let out a low grunt and glanced towards the black mechanic, who had gotten deeply involved in the actual repairwork. “You is one nasty sissy,” Duncan said with a sigh as he spat on his cockshaft for lube. “My dick is dirty as hell.”
“Good. I love the dirt,” Teddy said. “That’s the best part.” He lifted his ass and winked his hole. He pushed back, trying to penetrate himself with Duncan’s cock.
But Duncan was having none of that. He smacked Teddy’s cheeks and dragged him into the perfect position, ass high in the air, head low to the ground, so Duncan could ram him without looking at anything but the ladylike curves of his pale, smooth ass.
He pushed his dick in with all his might, like he wanted to get this over with, which he very much did. Teddy moaned. Pain exploded in his ass, followed within moments by a surge of pleasure as his prostate came alive. A howl came out of Teddy, while Duncan’s grunts turned into a surprised groan.
Just like with his dick in Teddy’s mouth, Duncan was nervous and thought it would be gross, that he’d lose his hardon, right up until it happened and it felt so good Duncan wanted to beg for more. He might have done so if Bunker weren’t right over there.
Pleasure arising from deep within Teddy, it sent tendrils of sensations through every corner of his body, pleasure that mounted with each thrust of Duncan’s hips at Teddy’s ass. Teddy tried to jack himself off as he got it up the booty, but Duncan pistoned his waist more and more relentlessly, and Teddy found it difficult to keep stroking his own self off. His cock strained and begged for release.
But all he could do was submit to Duncan’s powerful rutting. His hefty body trembled as he slammed into and out of Teddy’s ass, grunting whenever it made Teddy wince and clench his ass. He grumbled.
“Fuck, Duncan! Whatchoo doin’ over there?! Mistuh Jackson ain’t say to do that!”
“He ain’t say not to,” Duncan said. He wiped sweat off his face and smacked Teddy’s ass.
The black mechanic bunker Fiddle returned to watching Duncan ram. He had a disgusted sneer on his face like he didn’t want to be here, but he watched with grave interest. After a few moments, he even got down on his knees and peered at Duncan’s cock sliding into Teddy’s ass.
“Squeal like a piggie, Duncan! Oink! Oink!” He pushed his nose back like a hog and squealed. He laughed like that was the funniest joke in the world. “You would do well in prison,” he said. It wasn’t clear if he was talking to Teddy or Duncan, but neither of them asked.
Duncan roared — more like a bear than a hog — and he pushed the other mechanic Bunker away. He grabbed Teddy’s hair with one hand and lifted his head up.
The change in position sent a wave of arousal through Teddy’s body, as well as a twinge of pain. He grunted too, almost as loud as Duncan but with a much more lilting, feminine sound to it. That made the black mechanic laugh.
“You likin’ this, boi?” he asked, peering into Teddy’s intent face.
“Yessuh,” Teddy said.
He smiled. “Oh, I like it when whiteboys call me sir,” he said, “‘ceptin’ cops and prison guards. Don’t like that one bit. You wanna taste my dick too? Don’t tell the missus.”
“Yessuh,” Teddy said. He wanted to make it sound seductive, but he was getting it up the ass so hard he couldn’t concentrate. He barely got the words out at all.
“Course you do. E’ry whiteboy love black meat, that’s just a fac’,” he said. He snorted and pulled a long black cock out from the fly of his jeans. It was not as thick as Duncan’s, but it was longer, which Teddy was fine with because he could deep-throat it even at almost a foot long.
So that was precisely what he did. He lowered his head on that salty cock, already half-hard — he must have been trying to find a way to join in for some time. He had a firm-muscled body, less meaty than Duncan’s but just as admirable, from Teddy’s perspective. Within seconds the sour-salty flavor of precum hit Teddy’s senses as his dick leaked juices all over Teddy’s tongue.
“Hey! What the fuck did I tell you idiots?!” Mr. Jackson came right into the garage. His face was redm and his nostrils flared.
“I’s done, suh!” the black mechanic Bunker Fiddle turned his head to look at Mr. Jackson, but he didn’t stop plowing into Teddy’s throat even as he did it. He scoffed. “I’s finished! It’s just up on the lift, suh!” He hesitated like he hadn’t meant to be so rude to his boss. “And this limp-wrist done ask me for a taste of my meat, suh. I ain’t wanna say no, on ‘ccount of that customer service shit, y’know. Goin’ the extra mile.” He snorted and spat on the ground. He sighed, his cock throbbing as it spewed precum down Teddy’s gullet. “Sorry, suh, I can tells him no if’n ya want-“
“Shut up,” Mr. Jackson said. “Just… Just shut up, okay? In the future, take the car off the lift when you’re done.”
“Yessuh, sorry, suh.”
“And hurry the fuck up, both of you,” Mr. Jackson bristled and straightened his tie. He lit a cigarette.
It looked like was about to say something else, but all three men started to make more noise at the same time. They each neared orgasm simultaneously. Teddy was the first to cum. He shot a thick load right onto the floor and in his hand.
The pleasure of his climax made Teddy’s mouth open wider and his ass clench tighter, which was what sent both men into the throes of their own orgasm. Teddy was overwhelmed at first by the spray of hot cum inside his ass, great gobs of it seeping into his flesh. He could feel its sticky, creamy texture soaking into him, and it made him moan.
That was followed within seconds by the black mechanic Bunker’s cock shooting his own smoky, thick load right down his throat. The creamy texture tasted strong and brought tears to Teddy’s eyes, but he suckled deeply, making sure to swallow every drop — Mr. Jackson had forbade him from making a mess, after all, and Teddy did not want to disappoint.
At last, it was all over. Teddy kept going for as long as he could, but once their dicks fell limp, both men were eager to get away from him. Bunker Fiddle just tucked his dick away and went right back to work, but Duncan looked at his cum-dripping cock with disgust. He wiped it off with some paper towels on a worktable nearby.
“The muffler is fixed?” Mr. Jackson asked, raising his eyebrows.
“Muffler is fixed,” said Bunker Fiddle.
“Thanks,” Teddy said, watching his car descend on the lift. He took out his phone and quickly paid the bill. He was too tired now to do anything more than take the car and go.
“Here’s a comment card,” Mr. Jackson said as he took the check and handed back Teddy’s keys. “If’n you got any comments ’bout the customer service you received here today, I’d appreciate it if you write ’em in here.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“And Sally gonna read this card, boy. She a nice girl. Don’t give her no education she don’t need,” he said. He winked at Teddy and walked away.
Teddy took the keys and smiled. He walked to his car, watching Duncan shuffle, naked, into the bathroom to give his dick a more thorough wipe. He waved at Duncan, who blushed, flexed his biceps and then shot him a middle finger. Teddy sighed and backed out.
This, he thought, was the best mechanic shop ever.

The Aryan Bottoms

When Moshe confronts the neo-Nazis protesting his synagogue, he didn’t know what he was in for! That’s cuz he winds up with Tower, the hardcore alpha with a secret need for a twink like Moshe to climb on top!

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

When Moshe saw his new neighbor — ‘Tower’ was his name, according to what Moshe had overheard — among the crowd of men near the synagogue, he marched right up to him and confronted him about the things he had said. Moshe had tried to look the other way when it only affected him, but now Tower was protesting the synagogue, and Moshe couldn’t tolerate that.
He had heard Tower through the paper-thin walls separating their apartments, ranting and raving last night about the Jews, as he talked with someone on the phone. Moshe hadn’t done anything particularly Jewy when they met, so Tower had no way of knowing Moshe was Jewish until they made eye contact there at the synagogue.
Moshe didn’t want to look the other way anymore. Rabbi Kaplan’s words of wisdom today had made him feel like he needed to become a man of action, not timidity. He should confront evil and replace it with good: a simple idea, but one that was hard to put into practice.
“I’ll have you know that those things you said last night — I could hear them through the wall — those things were wrong, and you are an anti-Semite and a big jerk and… and….” Moshe stammered over his words as the other neo-nazis hooted at him. “You shouldn’t protest us. We are kind and gentle, and we don’t want to hurt anyone.” The neo-nazis jeered and sneered. At least they moved away from the synagogue Temple Man Asaf, which let the last few elderly folks inside scurry off to the parking lot.
Tower, on the other hand, remained firmly planted to the ground, his face placid and stony. He was the biggest neo-nazi there, at well over six and a half feet tall, skin white as oyster shell, bedecked with colorful tattoos and a big square jaw like an action hero. He towered over the small, thin and delicate Moshe. He would probably not have confronted Tower if he had realized how big he was. His dimpled face and strong cheekbones would have been handsome if it weren’t for the Aryan gang tats reaching up his neck to his chin.
He actually was handsome, Moshe realized. It was hard to see because of his prison muscles and anti-Semitic tattoos, but it was there — a handsome face. Tower had sweet eyes and a potent jaw and high cheekbones like a Roman emperor.
It looked like the more Moshe spoke, the more Tower hated him, and the other neo-nazis jeered louder and louder. So Moshe just darted away. He blushed. He was glad the neo-nazis couldn’t see him anymore. He felt like an idiot even as he tried to tell himself that he had done what was right — he had expressed his beliefs, he had remained true to himself and spoken righteousness in the face of evil. He just wished he wasn’t such a thin, small man, then he might have had a chance to intimidate some of the nazi scum.
By the time he got home and made himself some dinner, the humiliating incident with the neo-nazis seemed like a distant memory. He had gone to synagogue today, which he often was too pressed for time to do, so he tried to remain proudful of that. He had been attempting to reconnect with his Jewish heritage this year. He sighed as he got the oven started, then went upstairs to change his pants.
As he opened the door, he saw a large man in his bedroom, creeping forward. He halted when Moshe saw him, and then realized it was Tower. He was here, in Moshe’s house, in his bedroom. Moshe screamed, only for Tower to dart forward and clamp one meaty palm over Moshe’s mouth.
His hand was enormous, and it easily covered Moshe’s entire face. His cries of fear were muffled by the man’s gigantic palm. His fingers were tattooed, spiderwebs covering the interior of his middle and ring fingers, so it looked like the space between those fingers was infested with spiders.
“Sssh,” Tower said. “I ain’t gonna hurt you, Jewboy.” He hissed through gritted teeth, and his other hand caressed Moshe’s tender neck. “I ain’t here to hurt ya. I’m-a give you somethin’ I’m pretty sure you’ll like.”
He lowered his hand but kept a tight grip on Moshe’s face and neck. Moshe was intensely aware of Tower’s muscular body, which was intimidating — he was a large man whose sleeveless shirt showed off his thick barrel chest and powerful frame. Neo-nazi tattoos covered his entire body, almost every scrap of flesh from his neck to his ankles.
“What… What do you want?”
“I wanna tell you somethin’ for starters,” he said. He spoke directly into Moshe’s face, so close they were virtually kissing. His big dimpled smile made Moshe swoon now that he was so close that Moshe couldn’t see his cue-ball head or his offensive tattoos. Moshe’s heart fluttered. Tower smiled menacingly. “I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry, about what I said and what happened earlier. I don’t want bad blood wit’ my neighbor. I ain’t really a neo-nazi. I mean… Yeah, I joined the Aryan Way. I did that in prison a couple years back. I had to do it to survive, man.”
“Okay…” Moshe voice faltered, weakly wavering. He barely even listened to Tower’s words because he was so terrified of what was going to happen. “Take whatever you want-“
He sighed and cocked his head to the side. “I ain’t here to rob you, man, I- But since you said that, I am gonna rob you. Ain’t a robbery if you gimme permission, so don’t go calling the police.”
“Fine!”
“But that ain’t why I came here, man. What’s yo’ name?”
“Moshe.”
“I’m Leopold. That’s my real name. Not Tower.”
“Okay, Leopold… Leopold?”
“It’s a family name.”
“Oh, I… Okay, I don’t-“
“I don’t believe in none of that neo-nazi shit. I got these tattoos to fit in.”
“Okay.”
“You don’t believe me?”
“Well…”
“Nevermind, it don’t matter,” Leopold said. “I only stay in the Aryan Way to make money, Jewboy. They got the meth market in this town locked up.”
“Oh. Okay,” Moshe said. A part of him did believe Leopold. It was hard to accept, but Leopold’s general mien right now came across more like a hardened thug who adopted a neo-nazi look to fit in. He smiled self-effacingly, deep dimples flashing in the dim light of Moshe’s bedroom.
Pretending to be neo-nazi in order to sell meth was hardly morally superior to genuinely believing in neo-naziism while coincidentally selling meth, Moshe thought. It wasn’t much of an excuse.
“I want you to do somethin’ for me,” Leopold said. He smiled at the sight of an iPad on the nightstand. He scooped it up and put it in his baggy jeans pocket. Then he sat on the bed and slowly untied his heavy military boots.
“Uh, what are-“
“Get down on the ground, on your knees and open your mouth, Jewboy,” Leopold said. His nostrils flared. “If you’re still here in a minute, we’re gonna mess around, prison-style. One of us might cry a little. One of us is gonna taste a whole lotta cum. One of us just might beg fo’ mercy. You might be able to guess which is which. You can run away if you want. I’ll just hurry up and rob you, then get out. But if you are still here when I get my clothes off… well, we gonna have a little fun. At least one of us is gonna enjoy it. Fair warning: it won’t be kosher.”
Moshe’s mouth dropped. He had always loved skinheads — not the racist kind — shaved men, smooth skin, he loved it all. Tower — or Leopold as he thought of him now — was so muscle-bound and intense he was entirely too much for Moshe, who told himself over and over to leave. Moshe greatly appreciated a sturdy male physique like what Leopold had.
The safe thing to do was run away. He could grab his cell phone out the door, and he could run to the McCloud family down the street. He knew they kept their front door unlocked, so he could just run in, and make noise, wake them up, call the police. He’d be safe.
He didn’t run away. He kept telling himself to do so, but he wanted more than anything to service this hot alpha male. He wasn’t going to be able to force himself to give up on that. He was beginning to believe him about not really being an anti-Semite.
Leopold had taken off both of his boots. He sneered at Moshe. “You fuckin’ pervert. You so nasty, boi. You want me to spit on you?”
“Yes-“
He spat before Moshe could finish answering. He let out a huge wad of saliva that splatted all over Moshe’s face. Moshe sputtered and Leopold guffawed. Moshe was mesmerized as Leopold took off that sleeveless shirt. He had massive pecs, which he flexed and laughed when he saw Moshe’s hungry look.
“I hate weak men,” he said with a hiss that sent a chill up Moshe’s spine. “Take off your clothes. All your clothes.”
Moshe trembled as he unbuttoned his shirt and slowly took it off. Leopold simply undid his belt and let his black pants fall to the ground. He stepped out of them, scratched at his massive cock through the plain white boxers he wore, then pulled them down as well. They were, Moshe suspected, prison-issued underwear.
He was so scared that he didn’t quite process what happened as he dropped his own pants: Leopold simply climbed on the bed and laid on his back on the edge, so his head hung down. There were more spiderwebs tattooed on his face and even spiders tattooed crawling out of his eye sockets — Moshe wondered, terrified, if the spiders represented murder. That was what tears meant when they were tattooed in, he thought, but what did spider-tears mean?
Leopold was so tall he didn’t fit on the bed when he laid crossways. His feet dangled off the edge. He grumbled. “It’s like being in prison again, man. I was seven inches too tall for them bunks. It was like fucking torture after a few months man. I couldn’t stretch my legs at night. It seems minor but it ain’t.”
It was only as he talked that Moshe realized Leopold was laying on the bed as though in position to get throated. In a position for Leopold to get throated. Not Moshe.
Leopold lay on his back with his head dangling over the side of the bed. Moshe shook as he approached. This surely wasn’t right?
“Come here, pervert,” Leopold said. He reached out and grabbed Moshe’s dick with one of those huge hands — Moshe’s dick was not small by any means, but in comparison with Leopold’s massive paws and his large head, Moshe looked like a miniature person. He had to stand on his toes to get his crotch lined up with Leopold’s head. Leopold smiled, flashing deep dimples that would have been handsome if they weren’t on a menacing tattooed face.
Then he opened his mouth and swallowed Moshe’s dick down to the root. He gagged as though he hated it, but his tongue ran up and down Moshe’s shaft like he had extensive practice at it. Moshe was so shocked he yelped and screamed, but muffled the sound himself.
He leaned back a little, as though he’d get in trouble for touching a neo-nazi man’s tattoos. But the man’s body beckoned. Leopold struggled to keep Moshe’s dick in his throat, and every time he gagged, his corded chest muscles roiled. Those softball-sized pecs flexed and relaxed in sync — was that what massive muscles normally looked like? Moshe had never seen anything like that in person. Even as he told himself this was dangerous and he ought to run away, his hands roamed forward and grabbed those nipples.
They were hard beneath his touch. Leopold’s body stretched to accommodate Moshe’s dick, and Moshe writhed, barely able to support himself on his toes as his manhood hardened and sent throes of passion through his limbs. His knees were weak.
The sound of moist suckling filled the air. Moshe could tell he was leaking precum into Leopold’s mouth, but that somehow didn’t seem to bother him. Leopold continued enthusiastically even as his throat sputtered and choked. Leopold managed to stick his tongue out past his lips and flickeringly touch Moshe’s balls with it.
Then at last Leopold pulled off. He growled at Moshe. “I don’t like you, you little bitch. You talk like a goddamn pussy.” Leopold’s eyes narrowed. He jumped to his feet on the bed, his body so big Moshe wondered if he was going to shatter the bedframe. He crouched low, glaring at Moshe, his heavy-hanging balls dangling just in front of Moshe’s face. He had a girthful cock with a red and black swastika tattoo on it. He spat again on Moshe’s face. “I was just… I wondered… Uh… You were strokin’ my dick, and, uh…-“
Leopold jumped down from the bed. He marched forward, his chest bumping up against Moshe as though challenging him to a fight. Since he was so much taller than Moshe, Leopold bumped his chest and belly against Moshe’s face. He outweighed Moshe by more than a hundred pounds of solid muscle, so Moshe could do little more than stumble backwards, pinned against the bedroom wall.
‘Oh damn,’ he thought to himself, ‘am I about to get jewbashed now? Had I been given the gift of one outrageous muscley smooth-bear jerking me off and I squandered it? I shouldn’t have said anything.’ Moshe cursed himself.
“Lemme be clear. I would never swallow no dick,” he said through gritted teeth, stepping even closer with every word until his sweaty belly-meat smacked into Moshe’s face. Moshe could taste the sweat from the giant swastika over his bellybutton, which seemed to taste different, more sour and rancid, than the rest of his sweat. “I’d rip yo’ dick off and choke you to death with it before I touch your dick like this-” he grabbed Moshe’s dick with one callused hand. His rough-hewn fingers stroked it, and he laughed at Moshe’s pale face and frightened shake. “Don’t you ever suggest I might do that. I ate Jews like you up when I was in prison.”
“Oh, okay. Sure. Sure, uh… Leopold,” Moshe said. His voice sounded weak and pinched, and he knew he was rambling, but he couldn’t help himself. “I’ll uh… Sure. You’re not into that. I realize that. You would never jerk me off-“
“Quit talkin’ about it, Jew,” he said. He saw Moshe’s jewelry box nearby, and picked it up. He looked at the handful of cheap necklaces and bracelets, sneered and tossed them on the ground near his pants. “They ain’t worth jack shit.” He sniffed like he was offended. “I’m still gonna steal ’em. Cuz fuck you, that’s why.” He spat on Moshe’s face again.
“Okay. Yeah. I’m sorry. I don’t have any nice jewelry. You might get a few dollars for-!… uh… for that, uh, one… gold bracelet there.” Moshe’s voice trailed off because Leopold grabbed his hand and shoved it behind himself, in between Leopold’s own asscheeks, which were plump, juicy and tattooed with crude statements about various races, inviting them to lick his ass.
Moshe rather wanted to act out some of those statements — Leopold had a round, firm and delicious-looking pair of cheeks, aside from the rude tattoos. But Leopold forced Moshe’s pinkie finger to separate from his others, and before Moshe realized what he wanted, he pushed Moshe’s pinkie into his ass.
Leopold gripped the dresser in front of him, leaning forward a little to separate his cheeks. Moshe gulped nervously. He inserted his pinkie back and forth, slowly at first as Leopold yelped and breathed heavy, struggling to accept it. His broad back muscles rippled, sending distortions up and down the intricate tattoos that crisscrossed his flesh.
“Deeper, Jew!”
As Moshe fingered him, Leopold slowly, painfully moved his body around. He opened each drawer of the dresser and threw all of Moshe’s clothes onto the floor. He stopped only when he found a wad of cash — Moshe’s emergency money. He threw the money onto the pile of clothes and jewelry he intended to steal.
Then Leopold roared, his bullish nostrils flaring. He gripped Moshe’s wrist and held on tight, digging his nails into the flesh. Moshe yelped, thinking he had made a mistake — now, he thought, Leopold’s violent side would come through.
“Listen to me, Jew, since you ain’t got a lotta nice stuff to give me, I’m gonna have to punish you.”
But instead of hitting him, he guided Moshe’s hand to more violently finger his ass. Moshe slipped a second finger in, and Leopold groaned with a mixture of agony and rage. His face was ruddy now, the color spreading down to his massive chest, which was shaved perfectly smooth though Moshe got the impression he was hairy by nature.
Then he jumped around in a full circle to face Moshe, whose fingers left his ass. Leopold’s face was crimson, and he scrunched up his eyes as he roared in frustration and hatred. Moshe’s balls crawled up in his sac, and he was overcome, yet again, by certainty that this was it, that Leopold was about to reveal his true nature.
But Leopold simply made a face like a Hulk, and he flexed his arms like he was trying to terrify Moshe (who could not possibly had been any more frightened than he’d been ever since Leopold appeared in his home). He grunted loudly, then spat once again on Moshe’s face. He stomped angrily back to the bed and bent over it.
It was both obvious what he wanted and obvious that he didn’t want it at all. Leopold was in position to get it up the ass, that was clear. He bent face-first over the bed and stuck his ass in the air. He spread his asscheeks.
But he was obviously, blatantly and drastically too tall for Moshe to ram him in that position. His ass was well above Moshe’s head. Moshe stood there like an idiot, looking up at Leopold’s ass and dangling cock and balls.
“Whatchoo doin’ back there?!” Leopold barked. He turned his head and realized that Moshe couldn’t reach his ass. “Oh yeah,” Leopold said with a dry chuckle, “I forgot you was a fuckin’ weak-ass midgetty Jew.” He lowered his ass, dropping his hips and resting on his knees, his entire upper body splayed over the bed. He sneered at Moshe.
Moshe stood there with his dick behind Leopold’s ass, too terrified to actually insert it.
“I hate limp-wristed Jews like you,” he said. He spat towards Moshe again, but this time his head was too far away. He ended up just spitting on the bed.
Then before Moshe could respond, Leopold jutted his hips backward. He grabbed Moshe’s dick to keep it in place as he backed his ass onto it. Then he let go and gripped the bedspread, letting out a long, slow howl of pain. His giant body shook and vibrated.
Moshe gasped. He once again leaned back, unwilling to touch Leopold in any way that Leopold didn’t initiate. But as Leopold ground his ass and lowered his head, it was apparent that he needed a pair of hands to guide him. Moshe tentatively grabbed the man’s wide fleshy asscheeks, trembling at the feel of their vibrating thickness. His fingers dug into a tattooed invitation for Asian people to swallow Tower’s farts. He closed his eyes, certain that that would be it, that Leopold was going to attack him.
But he didn’t. He kept working his hips back and forth, even as he continued to grumble about blacks and Jews. It sounded like he was in too much pain to speak clearly, but that didn’t stop him from spitting invective at Moshe.
“Fuck you, you little squealing piggie. If we was in prison right now, I’d pimp you out to the mud-people,” he said. He hung his head low, cradling it in his biceps as he struggled to accept Moshe’s dick. His other hand crept lower and stroked himself off.
As Moshe began plowing harder and harder, he realized that Leopold wasn’t getting upset about him touching his ass. So he kneaded those jiggling orbs of tattooed flesh, then let his hands roam upwards, massaging Leopold’s rippling back muscles.
“You really don’t buy into that nazi stuff?” Moshe asked.
“Not at all,” Leopold said. “I just like making money. Ha! I bet you know about that, Jew. If your people bought more meth than the nazis, I’d have a fucking yarmulke tattooed on my face.”
“Really?”
“Well… Probably not that specifically,” he said, wincing but covering up the pain with a firm jaw. “Aren’t tattoos forbidden? But anyway, I’d be Jewish. You wanna taste my cum, Jew?”
“Uh…-“
“I thought so,” he said. Then he threw his head back and moaned. His asshole clenched, sending Moshe over the line into the throes of the most intense orgasm of his life. He gasped as Leopold lifted his upper body, so he was kneeling now, next to the bed, head upright.
Leopold’s muscles all flexed at once. Moshe clutched his thick torso, face planted in the meaty swastika tattooed over the center of his back. It was all Moshe could see as his climax erupted deep within him. Their size difference made ramming difficult when Leopold had been bent over, but now that he kneeled, it was impossibly awkward. Moshe had to clutch him like a tree trunk he was trying to shimmy up, in order to keep his spasming dick inside Leopold’s tattooed ass.
Cum sprayed within Leopold, who groaned and grunted as his hole tightened hard around Moshe’s dick. Sweat dripped down his German-tattooed skin, its salty flavor overwhelming Moshe’s senses. He had never experienced anything as intense as the feeling of cum pouring into Leopold’s tight fat ass. His body undulated beneath Moshe’s tiny delicate fingers.
A loud smacking sound could be heard — Moshe was so overcome by passion that he didn’t process it right away. Then pain exploded in his face, followed by a surge of salty cum flavor: Leopold had slapped him hard, with a hand covered in nazi cum. He smeared that wad of semen all over Moshe’s face, and pushed him to the ground. He stood over Moshe with his dick in hand.
His phone rang. Leopold grabbed it from his pile of clothes. He sneered at Moshe and used one toe to rub the cum around on Moshe’s face. “Yo,” he said into the phone. “Yeah. I’m still in there. The Jew was complainin’ like a whiny little Jew, so I had to pop him one. He ain’t got much money, for a Jew. But he got a bit. I took a shit on his pillow. He’s tied up in the bathroom now. Fuck you, man, I’m sending a message to fuckin’ Israel. The message is ‘eat shit, Jews’. What’re you in a hurry for? You got a hot date with some Jew? Ha, yeah, okay. I’ll be out in a minute.”
He quickly threw his clothes back on. When Moshe moved to do the same, Leopold glared at him. He didn’t need to say anything to know that wasn’t allowed. Moshe remained there on his knees, cum drying on his face.
“You can clean yo’self up in eleven minutes,” Leopold said. He set the alarm clock by Moshe’s bedside. “You sit there wit’ my cum on your face until then, Jew. You nasty-ass Jew. Get forgiveness, and find Christ.”
“Okay-“
“Shut up. And when you call the cops, you tell them it was a black guy, okay? If you tell them it was a black guy, I’ll come back. I’ll teach you a lesson about Jewry you never forget. Got it?” He raised his eyebrows like he was asking whether Moshe understood what he was really offering — to keep coming back and getting wrecked by him at night, so long as Moshe didn’t tell the cops who it was.
“Oh, uh… okay.”
“Good. Now sit there and think about how nasty you is,” Leopold said. He hefted Moshe’s belongings in a sac and headed out the door.
Moshe sighed and leaned back. He wasn’t going to stay in this spot for eleven minutes, but he saw now reason to clean off his face. He wanted to bask in the smells and sensations of Leopold’s cum on his face, and he wanted that to last as long as possible.

The Pilot

Teddy works for a billionaire on a charter flight, but when it turns out to be just him and the pilot sharing a hotel room and a bed, Teddy is in for the alpha-male pilot service experience of his dreams!

Read it now as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Teddy was glad to buckle up when the plane glided to the ground at the airstrip in Bucket Hole. He was ready to move on with the plan. This part was easy. The flight took a long time, since this little old charter plane couldn’t go real fast. Teddy’s ass was sore, his legs were tired and his mind was going crazy for lack of stimulation. He was glad to have arrived in the town of Bucket Hole, which was aptly named, as looked like the kind of run-down-company-town without-a-company where you probably couldn’t find anything worth buying, the kind of town that produces nothing but buckets with holes in them.
Bucket Hole wasn’t much of a town, but it had a small dusty airstrip. It was about thirty miles from an oil field, which was the only reason anyone used the airstrip. That airstrip was the only reason Bucket Hole was still a town. When that oil field dried up eventually, the airstrip would be abandoned, and the town of Bucket Hole would fade away like a forgotten film.
The CEO of Blinkendale Energy was Charlie Walthenham, and it was he who had chartered the flight. Mr. Walthenham had arranged for Teddy to bring gourmet food from his country club — the Rockhard Country Club. Serving that food was essentially the only reason to have a flight attendant on the flight, since Mr. Walthenham could serve his own drinks (he merely drank his scotch neat). So he had hired Teddy from the country club to serve as his flight attendant.
Not a big stretch for Teddy, who used to work as an an actual flight attendant and knew well how to serve that food, because that was what he did at the country club every day. This was the same thing, but it came with a free trip to Wyoming.
It hadn’t become apparent until too late that there was literally no reason to go to Bucket Hole except to strike it rich in oil, and there was no chance of Teddy becoming a roughneck. It wasn’t worth what Mr. Walthenham was paying him.
The plane landed amid a cloud of dust on that airstrip. It was going well, Teddy thought, he looked like a real flight attendant. He even managed to look like he dreaded spending the night in this one-horse town. He emphasized his discomfort with the situation in hopes of inspiring Mr. Walthenham to give him a big tip at the end of the weekend. That might make make this whole thing worth the time.
Usually on these kind of small-plane short charter flights, the pilot didn’t wear the typical pilot’s uniform. Usually the flight attendant didn’t either, but Teddy wanted to look as professional as possible. The pilot seemed to have the same idea. He was tall and a bit of redneck, but only in a tasteful way, a slight twang in his voice, no holler, no trace of a trailer park. He was the kind of redneck people can trust, with broad-shoulders that filled out his uniform nicely. His name was Wyatt Kettenhauer, and he had a gorgeous head of raven hair that made Teddy’s heart skip a beat. He looked young, which Teddy thought might turn Mr. Walthenham off, but he did look solid. He exuded competence, and he was as handsome as a politician.
Wyatt even came out once the plane landed and stood there in the cabin next to Teddy. They both held in their breath, standing at attention as Mr. Walthenham waddled fatly off, yelling at some poor soul on his cell phone. Wyatt made eye contact with Teddy, but both stayed at attention like soldiers.
“You had better get it done, asshole, I’m not waiting another day! I want motherfucking results, or I will come down there to St. Louis and ram my foot so far up your ass you could snort coke off my pinkie toe!” Mr. Walthenham strode out, seemingly not noticing Wyatt or Teddy at all.
They waited until he was good and gone. Since the airstrip was so small, that meant waiting until he left the tarmac entirely.
“Phew! I tell you one thing,” Wyatt said, taking off his cap when they were truly away from Mr. Walthenham. “That man is frightening with a capital F and a capital U. E’ry time I land the plane with him on it, I breathe a sigh of relief, cuz I just know he could have me pistol-whipped for makin’ it a bumpy ride.” His Western twang was peal-y like a mockingbird, his voice a slow rumble like a cowboy, which Teddy soon realized he was, underneath that pilot’s uniform. Or at least he had grown up on a ranch and fancied himself a cowboy, right down to the well-worn cowboy hat when he was back at home. “If you don’t mind me, Teddy, my good man, I’m gonna get find some fine slice of womanhood and see if I can’t plow her furrows.”
“Yes, sir.” Teddy was disappointed in both his desire and his metaphor. Teddy wanted to spend time with Wyatt, whose handsome face and alluring stature got Teddy excited. Teddy was a keen appreciator of a well-formed male physiqye, and Wyatt Kettenhauer was an exemplar of the masculine shape.
Teddy left the plane after tidying up and getting it ready for the return trip. Wyatt the pilot headed into the rinky-dink airport, but Teddy hung behind. He didn’t want it to be obvious he was following Wyatt.
In a tiny airstrip like this one and in a tiny town like Bucket Hole, it should be easy, Teddy thought, to not look like a stalker. There was probably only one motel, only one bar (if that), not that many places a ranch-hand floozy might hang out — that was the kind of woman Teddy thought Wyatt was likely to be after. There was no way to hide in a town like this, and there were hardly going to be multiple women available.
Or maybe the place would be crawling with loose women, given the roughnecks that came through on a regular basis en route to that oil field. They no doubt came out on leave with full balls and cooped-up stiffies. Teddy knew the type. As Teddy moseyed to the hotel though, it looked like there was literally nobody in this podunk little burg.
“How many vacancies have you got?” Teddy asked when he came in the front lobby and approached the desk.
“One,” said the waify, bored-looking clerk. He didn’t look at the computer screen.
“I’ll rent it. Is it a single?”
“Yes, sir,” said the clerk.
Teddy nodded. That was good. He was confident Wyatt hadn’t rented a room first, he most likely went straight out to get laid. Men like Wyatt were like that. He wouldn’t even think about a place to stay tonight until he actually needed it. The clerk handed over the key. He didn’t bother to tell Teddy in which direction the room was. Teddy used to be a hotel clerk, so he mentally deducted one star from his rating for this place.
Not that this was the kind of hotel that cared abouts it rating. There was literally no competition. It was either sleep in the hotel or get eaten by a bear, so the clerk’s hospitality only had to be greater than that of a hungry bear.
The room was drab and dreary. It wasn’t dirty, or at least not actively so, but it was hardly clean either. It was coated in a layer of dinge. But at least it didn’t smell like urine or blood, Teddy thought, which sometimes happened in these tiny motels. Once they get a bad stain, it never goes away, because management won’t spend what it takes. The bed was surprisingly comfortable, and the bathroom was clean, which was what was most important for Teddy. He could deal with the rest.
He settled back to relax and wait for Wyatt to be visible from his vantage point in front of his room, where he could see much of the main street in this town. The clerk inside the lobby kept watching Teddy, trying to figure out his game.
But Teddy just watched the dullness develop as day turned to night, and the moon’s long darkness spread over the landscape. There was the town’s bar too. Teddy couldn’t make out the name on the sign. After a long time trying to decipher it from this far away, Teddy just googled it.
The Clean Pipe. Sounds like a biker bar, he thought. It didn’t even have a proper website though. Just a Facebook page last updated seven months ago.
He soon saw Wyatt coming out of the bar. He staggered out shouting at someone inside, like he had just gotten in a fight and been kicked out — he hadn’t been in there long enough to get drunk though, or at least not real drunk. He sighed and came towards the motel.
Teddy left the hotel room and waited outside as casually as he could muster. He nodded to Wyatt, who had a visible erection in his tight pilot’s uniform slacks. It bulged against the fabric, and Wyatt gave it a squeeze through his clothes as he walked. He must have gotten in trouble with a woman, Teddy thought. Wyatt went to the clerk in the window, ignoring Teddy.
Soon, Wyatt’s deep voice filtered out into the night-time air. “No vacancies! What are you talking about? No one ever comes to this shit-heel of a town! How could you be full?”
Finally, Wyatt came out with an angry snarl. He glared at Teddy, then his snarl brightened into a smile. He walked over to him. “Hey, did you get a room?”
Teddy nodded.
“Can we share? I couldn’t get one. This one-horse town is down to a half-a-horse, and it’s sickly,” Wyatt said. “There was one girl in that bar and she was a prude. She wouldn’t even talk to me!” He threw his hands in the air, then winced because the motion caused pain in his sensitive cock. His erection appeared to have diminished a bit, but there was still a noticeable bulge in his tight pants.
“There’s only one bed, but we can share,” Teddy said with a casual shrug. He sniffed Wyatt’s breath. No alcohol. “Are you drunk?”
He shook his head. “I’m not drinking tonight. Mr. Walthenham seems like the kinda man who might wake me up in the middle of the night cuz he wants to leave early. I gotta be sober as a Monday morning,” he said. He took a deep breath and looked up and down the main drag of Bucket Hole. “Well, I’m gonna go try to get laid. Nothing personal, but if I can, I’m not sleeping with you tonight. Don’t wait up.” Wyatt paused. “You wanna come with me?”
“No thanks, I’ve got a girlfriend,” Teddy said. He scribbled down his room number and passed it to Wyatt. “Come on in. I’ll leave the door unlocked.”
Wyatt scoffed like he didn’t get why a girlfriend should stop Teddy, but he accepted it. He headed down the street to see where else there might be some females. Teddy suspected he would have poor luck — in a tiny town like Bucket Hole, there were not likely to be many options as far as nightlife went. That bar he got kicked out of has gotta be the entirey of Bucket Hole’s nightlife. Probably there were more prostitutes when the roughnecks had leave.
But Wyatt was a charter pilot, and he saw the perks of that job as including all the fine women he met throughout the world. Ladies loved pilots. He could talk a woman out of her panties in virtually any city. He’d bedded (women who claimed to be) Saudi princesses, billionaires, Bruce Willis’s daughter, porn stars and supermodels.
But Bucket Hole, Montana, was proving to be difficult. There was no one here.
It was barely an hour after they separated when Wyatt knocked on the motel room door. He pushed right in when Teddy opened the door. He still had his cowboy hat on, and he removed it as he entered, then put it right back on. His cheeks were ruddy, and he chewed on his lips as he fumed.
“Goddamn this town sucks! You know it’s a dry town? Apparently liquor stores are illegal, there’s only one liquor license in town and it’s the bar that just kicked me out.”
“That sucks,” Teddy said. “I thought you weren’t drinking?”
“I’m not! It’s just an observation. No wonder there’s no nightlife here! There’s no minibar in this room either, is there?”
“No sir.”
“Well shit… I guess this is officially the most boring town in North America, huh, Teddy?” he said. He sighed. Then he glanced up at Teddy with a guilty grin. “Or maybe we’ll fool around when the lights go out, you know what they say — cowboys can do it in the dark, it don’t count, yee-haw!” He paused to gauge Teddy’s reaction. “And they say that about pilots too when they ain’t in they home time-zone, shit yeah!”
Teddy laughed along with him. He wasn’t sure how joking Wyatt was. Hopefully not at all.
Both of them settled into Teddy’s room, and Teddy was glad to have a chance to see Wyatt like this: casual, shirtless, brushing his teeth, taking a shower, putting on deodorant even just to go to bed, clipping his toenails. Wyatt talked, mostly about women, the whole time, and he badmouthed Mr. Walthenham, who hired him often but never learned his name. He kept calling him “Ryan Kettleman”.
Eventually, the night dragged on, and they put on a movie, some superhero thriller that seemed poorly edited for tv and didn’t entirely make sense to Teddy. He could barely follow it though, because Wyatt kept talking the whole way. Mainly he commented on the women onscreen and compared them to the women he had slept with. His conclusion was that he got hotter women than this movie starred. It annoyed the piss out of Teddy, who hated people who talked during movies. Wyatt was too handsome to be mad at though.
Finally, the movie was over, and Teddy was already half-asleep as he turned the light out. He could tell Wyatt was restless and didn’t want to go to bed just yet.
Wyatt paced for a moment quietly. He hadn’t gone to bed with neither sex nor alcohol, nor even weed, in a long time. He wasn’t an addict, he thought, but it was difficult to convince himself that he could go to bed horny and sober. It just didn’t feel right. Every time a woman appeared in his mind’s eye, his dick rocketed back to full erection, and Wyatt resumed pacing in the dark hotel room.
Eventually, he did lay down next to Teddy. Wyatt was used to a more comfortable bed than this. He rarely slept at home, as he usually was in hotels all around the world — wherever Mr. Walthenham needed to go — or sometimes in the bed of his latest female conquest.
Once he got under the covers just a few inches from Teddy, however, Wyatt realized he could satisfy his sexual urges as well. He genuinely thought of it as “not counting” in a situation like this, in a tiny town and a cramped motel. In pilot school, everybody had said it doesn’t count if you’re at least two time zones away from home. That meant cheating. It was okay to cheat on a wife if she was at least two time zones away.
But, Wyatt thought, it could apply to messing around “on the downlow”, as the black guys say. It would not be Wyatt’s first time. It would be his first time since becoming a pilot, however. Women threw themselves at pilots. So did men like Teddy.
“Hey, man…” Wyatt whispered, finally breaking the silence in the silentious motel room, the only sound being the whirr of the air conditioner. “You wanna jack off with me?” he asked with confidence, like he already knew the answer.
Which was true. He did know the answer. Wyatt had noticed Teddy checking him out all day, and he knew perfectly well Teddy wanted to swing on his dick. Most male flight attendants were that way.
“Hell yeah. I didn’t know you were into that,” Teddy said, hoping to sound coy instead of naive. His hands flitted over underneath the covers to Wyatt’s muscular chest, and Teddy scooted closer, so he could feel the solid warmth emanating from Wyatt’s body.
“I grew up on a ranch.” Wyatt chuckled dryly. “You know, out there you stick your dick wherever you can find a nice tight hole, ya feel me? Sheep run scared ’round my parts. Not that I ever partook, cuz I had females hanging off e’ry inch I got, ya feel me?” He patted Teddy on the head, and he gently pushed his head closer to Wyatt’s crotch.
“Uh-huh.” Teddy sighed and allowed Wyatt to move his head closer, putting up just a little resistance, like a nice woman would, just enough resistance to let Wyatt know this wasn’t an automatic gimme. Teddy kissed Wyatt on the treasure trail of body hair leading from his flat belly to his dick, and as Teddy moved lower and lower. He resisted Wyatt hurrying him down to his groin. Finally Wyatt’s half-hard dick collided with Teddy’s face. Wyatt let out a twanging moan as his dick touched Teddy’s hand. Teddy gripped that thick shaft and gave it a few strokes, then opened his mouth and kissed it, right on the tip.
Wyatt’s whole body buckled. He whispered “Yee-haw” again and laughed, very quietly, even though there was no way anyone could hear but Teddy. He pushed Teddy’s head lower on his dick.
“Yeah, man, put your mouth on it…”
Finally, Teddy did so, allowing his mouth the envelop Wyatt’s rapidly firming up cock. It pulsated like an alien beast, and his muscular chest rippled beneath Teddy’s fingertips. The taste of his dickshaft was clean and sweet, with a musky after-scent. He liked feeling Wyatt’s rock-hard meat exploring his throat, pushing all the way in until Teddy’s nose nuzzled Wyatt’s pubic hair.
Soon he was rock-hard, his cock throbbing on Teddy’s tongue. Wyatt moaned as he guided Teddy up and down, firmly but gently. Teddy’s tongue slathered spit up and down Wyatt’s rock-hard shaft, and the first few drops of salty, sun-bright precum hit Teddy’s tongue.
Much to Teddy’s surprise, Wyatt intended to return the favor — he assumed a macho pilot and boss like Wyatt would never reciprocate. He leaned down and stroked Teddy’s dick with one hand. It was a slow, lazy stroke, but it got Teddy hard, and soon both men leaked precum onto each other. It was almost, but not quite, a sixty-nine because Wyatt didn’t taste Teddy’s dick —where Wyatt came from, men could jack each other off in exchange for whatever or because they lost a bet, but swallowing a nut was too much. Wyatt wouldn’t do that. He could do almost anything else though. Teddy was not gonna complain.
“Hey, man, can I stick ya?” Wyatt asked, his voice soft and low, aimed directly into Teddy’s ear.
“You gotta gimme a reacharound,” Teddy said, gasping for more. He chased Wyatt’s cock with his mouth, but Wyatt kept moving it out of his way, already getting in position to go up Teddy’s ass, even though Teddy hadn’t agreed yet. Wyatt wasn’t used to anyone telling him no.
“Hell yeah, you oughta be a full-time flight attendant, yessuh. Pilots could use someone with a mouth like you. Women stewardesses are teases these days, I tells yah!” Wyatt said with a loud whoop, which he then muffled. “Sorry, that was loud.”
“No one can hear.” Teddy’s voice was huffy and plaintive, as he was desperate to get Wyatt’s manhood inside him.
“I know… This kinda thing is best done on the hush and in the dark, ya feel me?”
“Yeah…”
Wyatt slid behind Teddy and hefted his dick between his cheeks. Teddy’s asshole tingled, then the tip slid in. Teddy bit his lip as pleasure and pain both enveloped him in equal measure. This was happening faster than he thought it would. Despite the lack of any potential audience, Teddy still swallowed back a moan of pleasure, as sensations sparked up and down his body. Wyatt’s cock slammed into his prostate, both men moving as one as pleasure filled both men’s bodies.
The hum of the air conditioner outside the motel room seemed impossibly loud. Teddy couldn’t hear anything but that and Wyatt’s heavy breathing condensing on the back of his head, as Wyatt’s hands explored Teddy’s smooth chest. The intense pressure overwhelmed him, but gradually loosened with every passing second.
“Sssh… it’s okay,” Wyatt said, his low twang echoing in Teddy’s ear like a banjo. His hands roamed over Teddy’s body and then gripped his dick. A jolt of pleasure shout through Teddy. “I’m inside ya now, son…”
Teddy’s whole body tensed as more of Wyatt’s cock slid in, each centimeter sending a new wave of bliss to wrack his tiny frame. He clenched and bit down. Wyatt began slowly stroking him in sync with the gyrations of his hips. His balls slapped against Teddy’s thighs.
He kissed Teddy on the lips, and their tongues interlocked in Teddy’s mouth. Teddy let out a long, slow moan of pleasure. He couldn’t believe how good this felt. It continued for what felt like forever, and Teddy didn’t want it to end. He cried out and gasped. Wyatt moaned over and over, smiling, glad that he had gotten his rocks off after all, even without a girl. Teddy was probably tighter than any of the women in this town anyway.
Wyatt grunted and his body spasmed. Cum sprayed into Teddy’s ass, great gobs of it that filled him and coated his insides. Some of it dripped out and onto the mattress beneath him. A burst of it seeped into Teddy’s flesh, the creamy heat flowing into him like a river.
“Shit, boy… Hell yeah,” Wyatt said. Spasms of pleasure overwhelmed his body. His free hand tightened into claws that dug into Teddy’s body, while his other hand kept stroking Teddy into an impassioned orgasm. Bliss erupted in Teddy’s body, while Wyatt’s climax turned to a low moan that resonated in Teddy’s ear.
Teddy let out a sigh as he shot his own load into Wyatt’s hand. He felt a slow-burning orgasm that only grew as he came and Wyatt’s dick limpened inside him. Then he took it out. He kissed Teddy on the cheek, where his lips lingered as his hands ran up and down Teddy’s body.
The smell of cum filled the air. Wyatt smiled and pounded on his chest. He flexed his biceps too, as though there was a woman here to impress — of course there was only Teddy, and he didn’t even face the right way to see. Teddy sensed the flexing of his powerful muscles behind his back though, and he rubbed his smoothness on Wyatt’s powerful body.
“Shit…” Wyatt said again with a chuckle. “That was right nice, yessuh. I am sure glad I hooked up with you. You’re a good flight attendant.”
“I’m not even really a flight attendant,” Teddy said with a laugh.
Wyatt shrugged and settled back onto the motel bed. Teddy curled up next to him. He liked the solidity of Wyatt’s muscles and the warmth of his body heat as it suffused over him.
“You’re a good pilot,” Teddy said with a giggle. He snuggled up to Wyatt’s body. “Tomorrow, I might be available in the cargo area during the flight home. Maybe you could sneak back there when the plane’s on autopilot.?”
“That ain’t allowed,” Wyatt said with a shrug. “But if you treat me like that again, son, I’ll do whatevuh you want!”

The Boxer

When Avery sees the legendary heavyweight boxer Wallace Stamper in the gym, he takes a chance and makes him an offer — he’ll pay for his gym membership in exchange for a swing on his fat alpha male meat. Can Wallace perform for Avery despite his cornerman trying to stop it?!

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

“C’mon, Wallace, you don’t need this place.”
They turned around and headed back into the locker room. Avery watched from within the locker room, then he headed away from the door so it wasn’t obvious he was eavesdropping.
He resumed mopping the locker room floor — it was his job at the Cornerside Gym, after all. He didn’t look in the direction of the man he was here to find: Wallace
It was always hard to force yourself to “look casual”, but that was what Avery did. He affected a complacent pose, idly sliding the mop about as though he had been at this for hours and had no chance of finishing soon.
A few ropy-muscled black men showered a few feet away, but Avery wasn’t interested in them, and they totally ignored him. A hunky Puerto Rican with a fledgling mustache changed into workout gear on one of the benches. Avery would have loved to jerk him off, but that wasn’t why he had come here.
He had come here to meet Wallace Stamper, the greatest heavyweight boxer in the world. Avery didn’t actually follow the sport, but he was very good and very famous.
And he had a body to die for.
And, it seemed, Wallace couldn’t afford to pay for his gym. His trainer, friend and cornerman followed him into the locker room. That was a handsome Italian man named Valdemaro. He was arousing too, in his way. Like the Puerto Rican, Avery might have jerked him off gladly if there weren’t a grade-A specimen of manhood right next to him. At the moment, though, Avery had eyes only for Wallace Stamper
“Fuck that asshole,” Wallace said with a hostile growl. He shadowboxed the air in the sauna.
“Relax, Wallace, it’s okay,” Valdemaro said. “We’ll work this out. You don’t need a gym to train anyway. We’ll go home and you can punch that mattress. You run home, okay? You run home, I’ll take the bus and meet you there.”
“Shut up, Valdemaro.” Wallace punctuated each word with a punch in the air.
“Come on, don’t be depressed. You’re gonna win on Saturday, I can feel it. With that purse, you’ll be able to pay for the gym membership for years to come,” Valdemaro said. He had a charming grin, but it didn’t look like Wallace was buying his optimism.
Avery pushed between them. He stood in front of Wallace and smiled. He made sure to seem as feminine as possible. “Hi,” he said with an impish smile. “I’m Avery.”
“Nice to meetcha, Avery,” Wallace said. His grumpy face frowned. He was big and thick-chested, with a deep barrel voice like a dragon, and he made Avery shiver in place. Wallace picked up on that. He sneered and sighed, flexing his pecs. “Whatchoo want, man?”
“Uh… I saw your match a little while ago. You’re so good,” Avery said. “You’re a legend.”
“Thank you, sir,” Valdemaro said, touching Avery on the shoulder to get his attention. He tried to hurry him along, to get him away from Wallace.
But Avery just shrugged him off. He smiled flirtatiously at Wallace. “I bet girls throw themselves at you.”
Wallace beamed. “Yeah, kinda. Some. Lotta girls don’t like big guys,” he said. He demonstrated his size by pumping one bicep. He licked his lips and chuckled when Avery grabbed it with both hands and kissed it. Avery licked Wallace’s bicep from his elbow all the way to his shoulder, then he flickered his tongue into Wallace’s sweat-moist armpit.
“Oh, hey, no way, sorry,” Valdemaro said. He pulled Avery away.
Wallace growled. “Shut the fuck up, Valdemaro.” He looked Avery right in the eye, not breaking his gaze. He was such a huge, hulking brute that Avery shivered in fear. His arms were like a stack of pumpkins, his legs thicker than Avery’s whole body, and his ass was thick and juicy like a pair of chicken pot pies. When he moved, his buttcheeks jiggled and his massive pecs shifted up and down with each step.
Despite his trepidation, Avery did not think he was in danger. Wallace looked at him like a hungry man looks at a meal, while Valdemaro continued shooing Avery away. Avery could tell Wallace wanted to bust a nut, but not where anyone could see it, including Valdemaro.
Wallace glanced around. The Puerto Rican was finishing his shower, his long, uncut cock gleaming in the moisture and steamy air. The other men had finished and were walking out the door.
“Wallace, we should go,” Valdemaro said. He kissed the crucifix around his neck. He glared at Avery, then wrapped one arm around Wallace’s wide body, hugging him close and gently pushing him towards the door.
“I said shut the fuck up, Valdemaro. You ain’t in charge of mah dick,” Wallace said. He grabbed his cock through his satin boxing shorts.
“I, uh, I’m in charge of your training, Wallace. That includes your moral development,” Valdemaro said. “I know you know the Bible. Jesus wouldn’t want you doin’ nothin’ you can’t tell ya mama ’bout.”
“Shut the fuck up, Valdemaro. God forgives, don’t he? Even the Cath-olics believe that, right? Confession and shit.”
“That’s not… You have to have real regret in your heart,” Valdemaro said. “Wallace-“
“I’ll pay,” Avery said. He pulled out the three hundred dollars in his pocket. “Is this enough to cover the gym membership?”
Judging from the look on both men’s faces, it was more than enough. Valdemaro snatched it. His Christian morals seemed to have vanished into thin air. He smiled and whistled a jaunty tune. “Okay. You two have fun. I’ll go pay at the front desk.”
He walked away. Wallace grinned at Avery. He glanced at the Puerto Rican, who was oblivious, then he looked at a door on one outer wall of the locker room. He stood up and walked towards it. From the way he walked, it was apparent his cock was already hard. Those giant asscheeks jiggled up and down with each step he took.
“C’mon, girlboy, the sauna’s in here,” Wallace said. He opened the door, and steam billowed out. His hefty body shifted as he slipped in. Avery followed. The heat and humidity hit Avery like a punch to the face.
Wallace had stopped right there by the door, so Avery’s face planted into his mountainous back. His muscles rippled and sweat dripped onto Avery’s lips. He sucked it all up, while Wallace quickly dropped his shorts and stepped out of them. His ass was framed by elastic straps.
He had on those old-fashioned white jockstraps, the strappy, unglamorous kind, dingy and worn with age. Avery moaned at the sight — he hadn’t been expecting that, but now that he saw it, he wanted to suck on it. He pulled it off Wallace’s body and put the whole thing in his mouth. The taste of old funky sweat, soaked in and wildly fragrant, flooded his senses. The jockstrap was so wet it tasted soggy, gritty with salt crystals that remained on the fabric, and the stink of Wallace’s heavy ballsac made Avery’s eyes water, not that that slowed him down at all.
“Oh, damn, you get nasty,” Wallace said. He shook his head and laughed, clutching his belly as though he needed to hold it in and it took all of his muscles to do so.
The jockstrap was sour and salty, and Avery drooled over it. While he loved the taste and the grimy feel of it in his mouth too, the hottest part was Wallace’s reaction, his big squarish face showing equal parts disgust and delight, like he was disgusted that Avery would do such a thing but delighted that his own body fluids would bring someone such joy.
Eventually though, the jockstrap just tasted like spit, and Avery dropped it to the floor. He tweaked each of Wallace’s nipples, making his pecs bounce and Avery’s heart skip a beat. Wallace still had a bemused smile on his face, and he didn’t react to Avery’s fingers on his nipples.
Since he didn’t complain, Avery shifting from tweaking his nipples to sucking on them, while his hands massaged the firmness of Wallace’s torso. His muscles flexed.
“A’ight, prettyboy, you got’cha taste,” Wallace said. “You gonna get me off or what?”
“I definitely am!” Avery said and sunk to his knees, while Wallace plopped his heavy ass down on one of the wooden benches in the sauna. He leaned back and spread his legs. He was so big he took up at least a quarter of the entire sauna, arms outstretched. His balls hung down, cock dangling. He leaned his head back and sighed.
His dick was half-hard already. Avery sensed that he was extremely horny — maybe that cornerman Valderamo prevented him from fucking any women, to keep his testosterone high for fights. His dick jumped right out of his hand when Avery touched it. Wallace gasped and bit his lip. Avery stroked it. It was moist with sweat and condensation from the air, and it twitched as soon as Avery’s fingers danced over his shaft.
“You got nice hands, boy,” Wallace said. “Nice and soft. I like the way yo’ fingers feel.” He didn’t open his eyes. He groaned, chest rumbling, tongue lolling around within his mouth.
“You got a nice cock,” Avery said, whispering like a shy girl.
That made Wallace chuckle and moan. He gently guided Avery’s head down to Wallace’s dick. Avery opened up and swallowed it in one smooth motion, lowering his head until his nose squashed into Wallace’s hairy crotch.
“Goddamn,” Wallace said. “Lordie, fuckin’s hell, fuck…” He gasped and raised his brow. His dick swelled in Avery’s mouth, moisture coating Avery’s tongue with his unwashed flavor. Wallace moaned like he was scratching an itch he’d been waiting to scratch for a long time. His whole body shook, his limbs all flexing and rippling in turn.
Avery’s hands explored Wallace’s broad chest, tweaking his nipples and playing with the network of kinky fur that covered his pecs. He was very hairy for a black man, with coarse hairs coating his pecs and running in a treasure trail down his belly. Wallace’s muscles twitched beneath his touch.
“Hey, you know Roger?” Wallace asked suddenly. He pulled Avery off his cock.
“Who? No. I ain’t from around here,” Avery said. His tongue flickered as he tried to go back to sucking, but Wallace held his head in place, just near enough that he could taste that cock but not actually resume sucking on it.
“Oh he ain’t from around here neither. He from Nashville. But he a… he a sensitive type, like you, with soft fingers like yo’s. He do slurp a nigga nut up.”
“We don’t all know each other.”
Wallace shrugged. “Okay. You handle mah dick better than him, that’s all. And you pay, I like that,” he said. “He just do it fo’s fun.”
Avery furrowed his brow at that. He assumed he needed to pay, but it seemed Wallace would do this for free if he asked nice enough. licked his dickshaft, his tongue tracing the veins that run all the way up from root to tip. Avery could tell that Wallace liked that because his cock spasmed, precum leaking out.
The salty flavor of semen filled Avery’s senses. Wallace continued to talk, telling some story about how Roger jerks him off whenever he’s in Nashville for a fight — Wallace said he never let Valdemaro know about it because Valdemaro was Catholic and snooty and he don’t approve of jacking off, whether alone or with another man. Valdemaro thought a man should save his seed for the marital bed.
“I ain’t nevuh think he was gonna ‘pprove of me dippin into yo’s ass,” Wallace said with a snorting laugh. “Guess he don’t care ’bout none of that if you got the green. Shoulda been tellin’s him all along that Roger be payin’. I thought payin’ fo’ it makes it worse, right? But Roger don’t give a shit. I don’t get Catholics.”
Avery gurgled as he happily sucked. He giggled. Wallace kept talking as though he was having a real conversation, though Avery didn’t respond at all.
“You evuh been to a Catholic mass? Valdemaro took me once. It was weird. I ain’t like it,” Wallace said. “Confession is fuckin’ strange. I ain’t tellin’ some pervuht priest ’bout my sins and shit. That’s between me and God, ya dig?” He leaned his head back and closed his eyes again. “Yo, man, can you suck on my balls a bit? You do that? Winchell Green did that. You know him?”
“I don’t know him,” Avery said, rolling his eyes. He dropped his head between Wallace’s legs and slurped on both of his balls at once. Wallace had heavy, pendulous balls and a hairy sac, which Avery loved. It was slick with sweat and precum, so moist that Avery could slurp the juices off as Wallace groaned.
“Yeah, I ain’t think you would. He in prison. Still there, ‘far as I know,” Wallace said. “He was my cellmate. He licked balls fo’ hours. Some nights he jerk my dick till I nut, then he lick my balls while I play cards or somethin’, then I get hard and he swallow up my dick again.”
“Uh-huh,” Avery said around the balls throbbing in his throat.
“You evuh been in prison, whiteboy? That where you learn this shit?”
“No,” Avery said. He went back to licking Wallace’s cockshaft, working his kisses up and down the veiny underside of his meat.
“Well, you be queen in there, I swear to God. If you was my cellmate, I’d tell you I love you, and I wouldn’t nevuh pimp you out, no way. Not unless you want it,” Wallace said with a chortling laugh. “You give up the ass, right?”
“Yes,” Avery said. His voice was muffled and moistened by the ballsac he kept furiously slurping on, while both hands stroked Wallace’s fat cock. It spasmed in his fingers.
“Then yeah, you be my prison queen,” Wallace said. “Fuckin’ hell. Why don’t girls evuh like suckin’ balls, huh? I ask this girl one time and she say ‘nah’, she say don’t no one suck balls. She say no way, no how, no time, not evuh. Fuckin’sbitch.”
“Uh-huh,” Avery said. He was too aroused to really pay attention to Wallace, who smacked Avery’s asscheeks. He whistled at the sight of their jiggling.
“Hmm-hmm! Hell yeah! Fuckin’ hell. You like big homeboys, right? Huh? I know this homeboy in the Tennessee State Pen’tent’ary. You wanna be his bitch? Shit, you could retire there,” Wallace said with a laugh. “You just gotta commit a state crime, ya dig? You into that?”
“No thanks,” Avery said. He rubbed Wallace’s dick over his face. He kept flickering his tongue out to tease him. Wallace smiled — he liked dragging this out as much as he could. He bent over and stuck his ass in the air. “It doesn’t matter. Just cornhole me, stick it in me, all the way in, as hard as you can….”
“Hell yeah! I will wreck you, whiteboy. You said as hard as I can, you said that and I’s gonna hold you to it, boy!” Wallace cackled and clapped his hands, then he checked the sauna door to be sure no one was coming. His fat cock stuck out from his crotch like an antenna, and then he got behind Avery. His rod stabbed Avery in the small of his back. Wallace had to bend his knees to get his cock low enough to line up with Avery’s asshole, and he wrapped both arms around Avery’s body. “You ready, whiteboy? It’s goin’ in…”
Avery gasped and jerked his head as Wallace’s cock slid into him. Pain exploded in his ass. It lasted only a second though. Wallace spat on his palm and wiped the lube off on his dick, which combined with the slickness of the steam that filled the sauna to make his dick slip right in.
Pressure erupted in his ass, followed by a twinge of pleasure that grew stronger with every passing second. It hurt too, but the pain was overshadowed by the positive sensations wracking his body. Avery slid all the way down. He rarely took such a huge dick that quickly, but Wallace pulled him by the shoulders down. Avery squealed and slipped, losing his balance so his hands and feet were both in the air. Wallace’s powerful body gripped him however, and held him in position atop Wallace’s cock. Neither man moved for a moment.
“So… this do hurt, right? Roger say he like it, but it do hurt. Winchell say it hurt and he don’t like it,” Wallace said. “You look like it hurt.”
Avery bit his lip. The pain was there, he couldn’t deny that, but his prostate was alive too, sending wave after wave of pleasure up Avery’s spine. It was difficult to concentrate enough to say anything at all.
“Yeah. It hurt. But, uh… I like it,” Avery said with grave difficulty. “It feels good too.”
“Why?”
“Uh… Sorry, can you just cornhole me? I can’t really talk right now,” Avery said, his voice clipped and desperate. He breathlessly gasped and flailed at the air in front of his face.
Wallace cackled. “Alright, sorry, man,” he said. “Let’s do this!” He wrapped both of his arms over Avery’s body, holding him tight and close to Wallace’s barrel chest. Then Wallace began to slam his hips up, virtually punching Avery in the ass with his massive cock. Avery let out a yelp that turned into a long, slow moan.
Much to Avery’s surprise, Wallace forced his head to the side. That put Avery’s face atop Wallace’s strapping chest. Wallace bent his head down and kissed Avery right on the lips. His tongue plunged in, and Wallace groaned right into Avery’s mouth. Wallace seemed to have no compunctions about kissing Avery as he slammed him up and down on his cock. He allowed Avery to suck on his upper lip and even lick his face when their fucking became too frenzied to coordinate a kiss. Wallace’s stony face trembled as Avery kissed his cheek and sucked on his grizzled neck.
“Hey! Wallace! You in there!”
“Yeah, Valdemaro! Leave me alone!” Wallace grunted and growled into Avery’s ear.
“Okay. You alright?”
“Yes! Fuck off, Valdemaro!”
There was a long pause. Avery held his breath, barely able to control himself — he wanted to scream and shout the orgasm welling up within him was so tense. But he wasn’t sure how Valdemaro would take it. He bucked his hips back, making Wallace gasp again.
“Are uh… you okay? Uh… other guy? The, uh… white one. You alright?”
Avery heard him and tried to respond, but all that came out was a choked strangle. The door to the sauna opened. Through the steam, Avery saw Valdemaro’s face poke in, but he remained facing away like he couldn’t bear to watch.
“Huh? You ain’t hit him, did you Wallace?” he asked.
“He fine, Valdemaro. Get the fuck out.”
“Yeah. Okay. I am. Okay,” Avery said, the climax boiling so intensely he could barely grunt. He bit his lip and groaned. A wave of bliss flowed through his veins, and Avery’s knees went weak. Wallace supported him in his powerful arms, which were firm with muscle and slick with sweat.
Valdemaro slammed the door shut with an audible sigh. He laughed nervously on the other side of the door, while Wallace kissed Avery some more. He groaned, his tongue lolling over Avery’s face when Wallace become too impassioned to kiss. His balls crawled up in his sac.
“You know you can’t kiss him, right, Wallace? “
“I know, Valdemaro, shut the fuck up! I won’t kiss him! Just go away, Valdemaro!” Wallace bellowed. He pounded on the bench beneath him with one massive fist. Then he kissed Avery again on the lips.
“Okay, sorry. Just… don’t, uh… We’re going to church as soon as we’re done here, Wallace.”
“Fine! Fuck off!” He paused and roared. “I know you still there, Valdemaro, fuck off! I won’t be able to nut wit’ you hecklin’ me from out there.”
“Okay, okay, sorry, I’ll go reserve the punching bag.” He paused. “I’m coming back in five minutes. That’s enough time, plenty enough time to finish up. I’ll dump cold water on you if I have to, Wallace. You need to focus on your training.”
“Valdemaro, if you don’t fuck off right now, I’m going to ram you next. Swear to god, I will shove yo’ mama’s lasagna up yo’ butthole,” Wallace said. “I will take as long as I want to.” Wallace growled into Avery’s ear. “I wouldn’t waste his mama’s lasagna, that shit’s goo-ooood!” He laughed and clapped. “I would take longer than five minutes just to piss him off. If he dump cold water on me, I swear to God I will hold him down so you can ram him. But there ain’t no way I can wait five minutes. You got ass like none other, I swear to God. I will fill you up wit’ my battuh, you gonna be drownin’ in it. You want that? Huh?”
“Yes, please…” Avery moaned. His cock spasmed in his own hand as an orgasm ripped through him. He tightened up and clenched, which was enough to send Wallace over the edge as well.
“Hell yeah, bitch, hell yeah, hell yeah, hell yeah,” Wallace moaned so loud it echoed in the sauna. His muscles all flexed where Avery rested against his back.
Cum sprayed over Avery’s belly at the same time it filled up his ass. Wallace’s hot breath condensed on Avery’s ear, his cum spraying over Avery’s prostate, which accentuated Avery’s own orgasm. Both men roared — Wallace a deep, booming baritone, while Avery lilted out a feminine growl. Waves of pleasure hit Avery hard, and he writhed in Wallace’s powerful arms. Wallace was less expressive, but Avery could feel and hear the burgeoning moan of desire in his chest, which pressed into Avery’s smooth back.
At last Avery was done. A big stinking puddle of cum rested on his thin belly, while Wallace’s meaty body pulsated beneath him. Wad after wad of cum filled Avery up, as though Wallace was piping it in from somewhere.
“Ah, damn, alright, alright, alright,” Wallace said with a chuckle. “You done there. You can get off me.”
Avery haltingly crawled off. Each movement he made sent a wave of both mind-blowing agony and body-melting arousal through his mind. He gasped and struggled to move. He slipped over and over because Wallace’s body was drenched in sweat, and the humid sauna air made everything slick.
Finally Avery crumpled to the ground. He crawled back up onto the bench, where he wrapped his arms over Wallace’s chest. Wallace bristled when he felt Avery’s limp cock press against his thigh, but he didn’t make him stop.
Wallace snorted and sniffled, like he was signaling that he had allowed Avery to cuddle for the maximum amount of time he would accept. He was too polite to tell Avery to let go, but Avery got the message.
Avery grabbed his clothes and hurriedly got dressed. Wallace was much slower. He grabbed his shorts and headed for the door, still naked, his cock not even fully limp yet — it still dripped with his own cum and remnants of Avery’s assjuice.
He opened the door, and there was Valdemaro’s serious-looking gaze.
Then a bucket-load of cold water landed on Wallace’s face, and a few drops hit Avery’s legs — the water was ice-cold. Wallace screamed in shock. Valdemaro said something about God.
Avery slid out of there before a fight developed. It looked like either Valdemaro or Wallace, or both, were about to throw a punch. Avery was done with them both.
But before leaving the gym, he wondered if that Puerto Rican boxer was still around…

The Married Trucker

When Garvey heads into the truck stop shower, he didn’t know what he was in for! That’s cuz the legendary bottom Avery Flowers is in there, servicing any alpha male trucker who needs a little release! Garvey is eager to get his rocks off, and Avery is eager to get started! Can they both please each other?

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Avery pulled his truck into the truck stop on the side of the interstate. His ass was sore from sitting so long. He was glad to stretch his legs. The engine whirred and roared, rumbling beneath his ass as he angled the truck into a parking spot.
Then he got out, in the lusty warmth of the evening Texas sun. It had been an unseasonably hot day today, and the heat had lingered like a stench. Now it was dissipating ever so slightly, bit by bit, and Avery was grateful for it.
He wasn’t hungry for food, so he didn’t go to the diner. He ignored the trashy woman who gave him a come-hither stare from the dingy window. The showerhouse, not the diner, was the only reason he had come here.
At all Ramwide Truck Stops, there were four showers, two each for men and women. One of each was for anyone of the appropriate gender. The other was for those who weren’t scared away by the disclaimer on the door.
In this shower, anything goes. Let the bather beware. Adults only.
That was what Avery wanted. For a lot of guys, being on the road meant letting men like Avery do whatever they wanted. It didn’t count as long as they were away from home, on the road.
He had a particular love for truckers and truck stops. So he was disappointed to see no one whatsoever in the showerhouse. His heart sank.
He just showered by himself then. It was a dismal and lonely shower. He didn’t even need the shower, he showered a couple hours ago. He just wanted to be ready in case anyone showed up, and he kind of liked group showers, even without the group. The empty showerhouse had a peaceful, zen-like quality.
It wasn’t until he was almost done that he heard the rumble of a truck engine park. He hurried to the door to peer outside. He wanted to get an idea of who the trucker was.
Not a woman, not a woman, not a woman…
The trucker was a burly man with the gait of an ex-military officer but the long, luxuriant mane of a tango singer, and a mustache that Avery just wanted to suck off his face. The trucker was muscular and thickly built beneath a white tee shirt and jeans. The trucker sauntered over to the vending machines and bathrooms first. Avery was disappointed, but he wasn’t surprised — most people didn’t come here just to go to the truck stop and service men.
So he waited while the trucker went into the bathroom, then to the diner. Avery rolled his eyes and swore under his breath. He sat down on one of the benches that lined the shower.
At last, he spotted the handsome trucker with a dense mop of hair came out of the diner. He patted his belly and headed towards the men’s shower.
The other men’s shower.
Avery was beyond disappointed. After hanging out in this shower for most of an hour, he wasn’t going to get to bust a nut after all. He had almost forgotten the other shower was an option.
He had just about given up hope and considered leaving when he saw the trucker stop. The trucker glanced back at Avery’s showerhouse and hesitated. He took two steps towards the no-funny-business shower, then three steps towards Avery’s.
“Fuck it,” the trucker said, loud enough that Avery could hear it. He grabbed his dick through his rank old jeans and came towards Avery’s showerhouse.
Avery went from grim to giddy in moments. He didn’t want to look like he had been perving out, so he went into the showering area and turned the water back on.
His name was Garvey, and he was nervous. He had never come into one of these showerhouses. He wasn’t sure what to expect. He only did go in this time because he couldn’t stop thinking about sex — his wife had left him last week — and he needed to bust a nut.
Garvey was single (sort of) for the first time in years. He and his wife weren’t compatible on a lot of things, but they were sexually compatible. That was why they had stayed together for so long. She wanted sex every day, and she loved anal, sucking cock, guzzling his cum. She was perfect from Garvey’s perspective, aside from her being a bit chunky and not the prettiest girl around.
But as long as she gave up the ass, Garvey thought, he would have never dumped her. She complained that he was boring though, and she disliked that he spent most of his days on the road. She swore she had never cheated on him, that she was dumping him because she didn’t think she could resist her horniness when he was gone anymore. But the more Garvey thought about it, the more he thought he didn’t believe that — she was so horny all the time, surely she had found a guy while he was gone. She complained if she went one full day without sex when Garvey was at home, so how could she last up to six weeks without him while he was on the road?
The only possible answer was that she couldn’t.
The divorce papers were coming soon. Garvey wasn’t sure yet if he’d sign them. He didn’t even want to think about that until he had to though.
Garvey had let his body go while he was with her. He wasn’t corpulent by any means, but he no longer had the six-pack and barrel chest he’d had in his youth. Now he was just barrel-shaped, all muscle and curvy heft and kinky black fur that covered his chest (and which he had shaved when he was younger — now it was so dense and thick he wasn’t sure he could shave it, while women had come to despise body hair in general, he didn’t think he’d ever get laid again if he didn’t start shaving).
He belched when he came into the shower. He didn’t know what he was going to do. He kind of hoped nobody would be in here. He could just jack off and not feel too grimy.
But he’d been jacking off since she dumped him. Garvey wanted some ass.
As soon as he walked into the shower — it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim light in there — his dick twitched.
There was a man there. He was slim and weak. Garvey could bend him over and plow into his tight hole. It would feel just like his wife.
“Hey,” said the man. “I’m Avery.”
“Hmmm….” Garvey wasn’t sure what to say. Despite his big size and demeanor, Garvey was often shy, especially since his wife left him. He felt like everything he said and did was wrong.
Avery was stroking his dick and looking square on at Garvey, who blanched. Garvey had been under the impression from his trucker buddies that these showerhouses were full of other truckers who sat around circlejerking, or sometimes slim men who wore women’s clothes and pretended to be women. So it was either like just chilling with some friends, or it was like plowing a woman. Both of those options had seemed okay to Garvey. He wasn’t sure how to take this more ambiguous situation.
“So where are you going?” Avery asked with a nervous quaver. Garvey glowered, coming closer without having even taken off his clothes. Avery took a few steps back.
Once Garvey was in the showering area, he realized he had forgotten to undress. His dick was hard. Was that normal? But his dick was hard, while Avery still had a half-limp cock. He played with it casually as Garvey took off his sweat-stained tee shirt, kicked off his boots and socks, then dropped his jeans.
He had a big hairy chest that was broad and thick muscled, exactly the sort of men’s physiques Avery most appreciated. He came closer because he could see that Garvey was sweaty — from spending hours crammed in the cab of his truck — and Avery wanted to lick all that sweat up before Garvey got in the shower spray and it was washed off.
His dick hung free, and Garvey tried not to be nervous. He considered leaving. He could turn around and go shower in the other showerhouse.
But then when he looked back at Avery, who sunk to his knees with his mouth wide open, Garvey knew he was going to do it. His dick was already jutting out. Avery aimed his mouth up and either gurgled or said something, Garvey couldn’t tell what because everything was a blur. All he could focus on was the feel of his cock throbbing, pulsating, demanding he do something with it. He needed to ram it in some place tight and dark and moist, and he needed to do it now.
A long loud sigh like nothing Avery had ever heard emanated from Garvey’s mouth, beginning even before his dick touched Avery’s tongue. It was such a strangely loud sound, like a cow with a particularly sonorous moo, that Avery barely noticed the salty taste of his dick.
Avery looked up at Garvey’s eyes, but Garvey had leaned his head back. He looked like he was on the verge of orgasm already, and it had been only half a second. Avery giggled.
“You must be horny…” Avery said as he thwacked his own face with Garvey’s cockshaft. Every time he did, there was a satisfyingly meaty thump, and each time, Garvey jumped.
“C’mon… I need you,” Garvey said, his deep voice crackling with stale moisture. It felt like it had been years since he blew a nut and his balls were about to explode.
“Hmmm…” Avery opened his mouth wide and stuck his tongue out. He planted his tongue on the underside of Garvey’s dick, which twitched when it touched his soft, moist tongue. Avery stayed right there, motionless, his tongue touching the spot where the underside of Garvey’s dick met his ballsac.
Men both loved and hated that, Avery knew well. He waited while Garvey first breathed heavy, his chest rising and falling mountainously, his dick pulsating veinily. Then when he realized Avery wasn’t going to lick any spot other than this ultra-sensitive bit of flesh, Garvey grunted. Avery’s tongue lapped like a cat’s at that one spot.
“C’mon, man, swallow it…” Garvey’s deep voice was plaintive, desperate. His hands flailed. He gripped Avery’s head, then let go.
Still Avery remained right there, smiling around the tongue he kept in place on the root of Garvey’s dick. At last, Garvey started humping, his instincts taking over. That was what Avery was waiting for. Garvey got past his reluctance and began pistoning his hips, rubbing his dick back and forth atop Avery’s tongue.
That meant Avery was ready to move on. He licked all the way up Garvey’s shaft and kissed the tip of his dick. When that made Garvey shudder, Avery kissed it again and again, slathering spit on the tip. The shower was still on, spraying hot water and filling the air with steam, so when Avery’s spit dripped onto the shower floor, it mingled with the warm water and went right down the drain.
“Goddamn, boy, open that throat up, don’t fight it, c’mon, don’t fight it,” Garvey murmured, alternating between plaintive begging and aggressive demands. “Don’t fight it. You makin’ it feel goood…” He gyrated his hips, forcing his cock all the way down Avery’s throat.
A loud baritone moan escaped from Garvey’s mouth. He couldn’t believe how good this felt. Why hadn’t he been doing this all along? His wife had loved sucking cock, but she couldn’t deep-throat like this. She even enjoyed getting facefucked — even then though, she simply couldn’t swallow this much cockmeat. She had never gotten more than half of Garvey’s cock in her throat. Women, Garvey realized, were physically much too small to really swallow a dick properly.
Why did he ever let women give blowjobs? He ought to just fuck women in the pussy, since that was something he couldn’t get from men.
Just a few minutes ago, Garvey wasn’t sure if he wanted to do this. But now that his dick throbbed mightily, leaking precum right into Avery’s throat, Garvey was already making plans to return. He wondered if these showerhouses always had men like Avery, men who could handle a dick like magic, deep-throat him to the root until he could feel his bottom’s throat clench, nose nuzzling his pubic hair. He hoped so, but he feared that Avery was unique.
Avery had to force his own head off Garvey’s cock — Garvey kept trying to ram his face. Even after Avery had removed himself, Garvey kept humping the air like he hadn’t noticed. Avery gave his dick a stroke, then licked a trail down his leg to his feet.
His feet were nice and funky. Avery slathered spit between Garvey’s toes, slurping every drop of nastiness and savoring every bit of it. The taste was grimy and gritty, potent as a punch to the face. Garvey looked down at him like that was crazy — which maybe it was, it certainly felt crazy to Avery — but he didn’t complain or even mention it at all. He lifted one of his feet up so Avery could slather his tongue up and down the underside of it. The bottom of his feet was even more nasty, tasting of the foulness of this truck stop and others, the dirty showers Garvey used.
When Avery was ready to move on, he let out a moan of desire, his own cock throbbing hard between his legs. He sucked up his own footy spit from Garvey’s toes. He gurgled, “You wanna ram my ass-?”
But Garvey was so horny, he cringed and shuddered at the sound of Avery’s moistly seductive voice. Without a moment’s hesitation, Garvey grabbed Avery by the hair and bent him over on all fours.
It all happened so fast that Avery struggled. He nearly fell, and he pulled away until he realized Garvey just wanted him bent over. Avery struggled to get onto all fours. Even though Garvey wanted him in the same position, his hands seemed to be everywhere, pushing Avery and pulling him in every direction, and Avery was too overwhelmed by arousal to get down on his arms and legs on the floor. He liked the feeling of being manhandled by Garvey’s powerful arms.
“C’mon, man, bend over and take it, I need ya ass, boy, I need to get in there. Okay? Huh? Say it’s okay, I’ll ram you so good-” Garvey spoke quickly, like he was desperate to get all this out before his dick rammed up Avery’s backside.
“Ram me in the ass, please…” Avery said with a seductive moan that made Garvey grunt. The sound echoed in the uncleaned linoleum of the Ramwide Truck Stop.
“Goddamn, man…” Garvey pushed his dick in as soon as he could, without waiting for Avery to settle into position. He rammed it in as though he’d get in trouble for every second it wasn’t inside Avery.
Then he sighed, just an inch or so of dickmeat inside Avery’s ass. Garvey could take a deep breath and ponder for a moment — he hadn’t really intended to actually ram a man in the ass. He hadn’t decided he definitely wouldn’t. But he sort of assumed his first time in the Ramwide Truck Stop would be all-oral.
It wasn’t what happened though. Once he saw Avery’s tight asshole, Garvey wanted in it. He plowed in there with a loud grunt and a moan. Every additional inch of dickmeat he got in there sent another wave of pleasure through Garvey’s body, and he let out groan after spine-tingling groan.
He had always loved fucking his wife in the ass, but this was different. She liked it despite the fact that it was a bit painful for her — she liked a bit of pain, she said it made the pleasure better. Avery could sympathize with that point of view. But for Avery, he wasn’t in pain at all. He liked getting rammed in the ass. There was an intense pressure, but it didn’t hurt. It felt good. It felt amazing, and he wanted it as hard and as deep as Garvey could manage. Every thrust sent waves of ecstasy through both men’s bodies.
So Garvey started off a bit ginger, thinking Avery would make him slow down and go more gently like his wife always had. When that didn’t happen, he rammed a little harder. He forced his dick in deeper.
Still, there was no complaint. A surge of pleasure shot up Garvey’s spine, and he grunted. He slammed more of his dick in, until he was all the way inside Avery’s tight ass. His balls thwacked hard against the smoothness of Avery’s firm asscheeks.
“Oh god… ram… me…” Avery had trouble focusing on his words because of the intense sensations flowing through him.
“Shit, boy, fuck yeah. Yee-haw!” Garvey shouted, his reluctance finally dwindling to nothing. Now he understood why his other trucker buddies came in here. You could do whatever you wanted here. As long as there were men like Avery here, you could go more and harder and better and longer than any female would do it. Men could simply take more punishment than women, and they knew how to use the equipment.
Garvey hadn’t even noticed his eyes were closed until he felt Avery pull off his dick. Garvey shuddered, his shaft suddenly cold, his orgasm fading away like a mountain getting smaller and smaller in the rear-view mirror.
Then, before he could even ask what was happening or do anything more than grunt, Garvey was forcibly bent over. His ass was high in the air. Belatedly, a shiver of fear ran through Garvey because it felt like he was about to get rammed in the ass, which he wasn’t willing to endure. If he had more time to think about it and wasn’t overwhelmed by desire, he would have refused to get in that position at all. It certainly wasn’t wise to stay bent over with an accessible bare ass in a Ramwide Truck Stop. That was just begging for a ramrodding.
That wasn’t what Avery wanted though. He put Garvey on all fours over the drain in the center of the showerhouse. Then he spread Garvey’s asscheeks and rammed his tongue right in.
The whole shift took only a second, and Garvey’s dick didn’t lose any of his erection. He wasn’t sure he liked the rimjob at first — it kind of tickled, and it felt like a cat licking him. It didn’t feel bad, but it was hardly erotic either.
And then all at once, Garvey shouted as an explosion of pleasure hit him. It felt so good it almost hurt, and Avery’s tongue explored his ass deeply. It plunged into his prostate, making Garvey’s whole body shake. He lifted up one of his legs like a dog trying to pee, which gave Avery easy access to his cock with both hands.
“Oh god, damn, boy, get ya tongue in there, fuck!” This was something Garvey had never experienced. Even his wife in her most sexually adventurous mood had never wanted to give him a rimjob. She didn’t even touch his ass — she’d offered to peg him, but Garvey had refused, and that was as close as they had ever come.
Now he could plow into Avery harder than he thought possible. Garvey had no idea how long that lasted. It felt like he had rammed for hours. It felt so good he could have done it forever, just laying there, bent over, getting his hairy asshole licked.
It was deliciously nasty. Pleasure visible roiled Garvey’s body as Avery spat up coious saliva into Garvey’s intact asshole. It filled him up and turned into a frothy mess that coated Avery’s face. That tasted so nasty that Avery couldn’t resist sucking it back up into his mouth, and he let out a moan that made Garvey’s whole body shake in throes of ecstasy.
“Shit, man, I’m gonna blow…” Garvey turned around and jammed his dick right into Avery’s throat, which was still wide open, tongue extending mid-lick because Garvey had stopped him in the middle of his rimjob. An explosion of exquisite bliss hit Garvey hard, and he let out yet another baritone moan. His knees went weak the moment his sensitive cocktip touched Avery’s tongue.
He was already shooting his load when he turned around, and the first jet of creamy cum shot onto Avery’s chin. That was quickly smeared into a dripping puddle by Garvey’s balls, which slapped against Avery’s chin as he shoved his orgasmic cock into his throat. He held onto Avery by the head so he could ram down his throat with all his might.
Avery gagged this time because it happened so quickly and without warning. Once he was able to adjust, however, he opened his throat wide. Garvey’s cock plugged deep into him, shooting cum the whole way, coating Avery’s tongue, mouth, cheeks and the back of his throat. Garvey let go of his head because he thought Avery was asking him to, but Avery didn’t pull off even when he could. He savored the feel of a huge cock throbbing in his throat.
That made him sputter and choke even as he swallowed Garvey’s massive cock. He swallowed it to the root and sucked down every drop, while Garvey’s whole hairy body tensed and flexed above Avery’s head.
“Damn, shit…” Garvey grunted and shook. His muscles all shuddered at once, and so did that glorious mustache on his upper lip.
Then he re-gripped Avery’s head and went to the ground with him, balls rubbing over the cummy mess on Avery’s chin. Avery lay on his back in the pool of hot shower water while Garvey rammed his mouth, moving his hips in a circle, making love to the back of his throat. Avery couldn’t resist gagging at last, when Garvey hit the back of his throat, but that didn’t slow Garvey down at all.
Avery was only dimly aware of his own orgasm, which hit him just as Garvey’s was finishing up. Avery’s hands moved of their own accord to stroke his own cock, which spewed a fat puddle of cream that pooled on Avery’s belly. When Avery moved, it spilled onto the filthy shower floor.
At last, Garvey pulled off, his dick sliding out of Avery’s mouth. It was followed by multiple mouthloads of jizz, which Avery spat out as he was overcome by a series of gags. His hands caressed the fleshy firness of Garvey’s asscheeks, which were furry and warm to the touch. Avery giggled through the mouthful of cum that spilled out and coated his face. Garvey chuckled throatily as he flopped, limp and exhausted, covered in sweat — though that was washed off by the shower water right away. He hadn’t even realized another man had come into the shower, and was jacking off as he watched.
That made Garvey nervous, but he was now confident enough he didn’t care. He could handle a man jacking off. He’d handled a lot more than that.
He got up and grinned down at Avery. “Thanks, man… I, uh… This truck stop is great.”
“Yeah,” Avery said. He went over to his clothes., fingers teasing the broad body of the masturbating trucker as he walked by — the new trucker looked disappointed to see that Avery was leaving.
“You come here a lot?”
Avery shook his head. “Not that often. Don’t let that stop you though,” he said. “You’ll always have fun in a Ramwide Truck Stop.”
Then he walked out, still putting his shoes on. He always left quickly. Avery liked to leave his men wanting more.

The Custodian

Turner Coop is a recovering crackhead and a custodian at the local college, and he’s got a physique Avery craves. When they run into each other one day, Avery is willing and ready to service every inch of Turner’s manhood. Can Turner accept?

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Read the whole thing here!

Avery stood by the door to his English classroom, waiting. He always ended up here a few minutes before class let out — he was in the next class, Advanced Poetry-Writing Techniques with Frau Klomp. He had been looking forward to that class all last semester, and it had proven as rewarding as he hoped. He only had time on Sundays, so it was a special Sunday-only summer class.
But Frau Klomp didn’t really follow a schedule very closely. Her previous class was supposed to let out at eleven o’clock, but she usually didn’t dismiss until eleven-fifteen, sometimes even later. Avery could tolerate this inconsistency, though many of his fellow students hated it — they had other classes, work schedules, girlfriends and boyfriends, etc., that made it difficult to accept an unpredictable ending to the class. And today was Father’s Day, so most likely a lot of people had plans.
Avery, however, didn’t much care about Frau Klomp’s inconsistent schedule, except that it was annoying to show up early and have to wait in the hall.
“Howdy, fella, glory be to God,” said Turner the custodian. He jawed and jived, smiling charismatically at the college students as they streamed past him in the halls. “You there, nice to see ya again. You still got the Lord’s joy in ya heart, I feel that! Heck yes!” It wasn’t clear he was actually talking to anyone specific. He was just generally saying things, aiming them at whoever happened to be within his field of vision at the time.
Avery’s heart skipped a beat. He’d had a crush on Turner for a long time. He didn’t even get why exactly. Turner wasn’t some handsome sex-god — he was a weird Christian custodian. He was dirty blond with a mustache like a 70s porn star, a great thick one that ran down the sides of his mouth, like he was trying to grow a goattee and but the lower part could only grow by dripping off his upper lip. He was a bodybuilder, but he didn’t have an excellent body — it was fine, adorable in Avery’s eyes — Avery didn’t much like that vascular bodybuildery look — because he had (supposedly) spent forty years as a homeless crackhead. Considering his age, that suggested Turner had been a homeless crackhead when he was a teenager back in the early days of crack — Avery thought that was very possible, but he wasn’t sure he believed it. In any case, he had become a born-again Christian who “sculpted God’s temple” in the gym every day just a few years ago.
So his wiry-hobo frame had gradually filled out, until he was bulging all over with thickness and firm muscle. He looked like his body didn’t quite fit on him, like he had combined a thin man’s body with a hefty man’s muscles.
But the mustache was what really drew Avery in. He did admire a man with a proper ‘stache.
“You still prayin’, Jay-Bay?!” Turner slapped palms with a fat black football player who laughed politely (and who made a face like his name was not anything similar to Jay-Bay). “The good lord loves ya!”
“Yeah…”
Turner pushed his mop bucket through the halls. He whistled loudly. He attracted a lot of attention, both for his dirty mullet and his mustache, as well as his frequent exhortations to pray. He’d been nearly fired for it twice because students complained about his proselytizing. It did not look like any of those actions resulted in him stopping.
“Who’s got the love in they heart? Do you, huh? Li’l fella, huh?” He tried to slap palms with a short young man walking by, but he nervously shuddered and quickened his pace. Turner watched him go. “Don’t worry, God loves ya just the same, boy!”
He got to work mopping the side corridor, the foreign language hallway, which didn’t have much activity on Sundays. Turner nodded at Avery who was still standing there by the door.
“How you doin’, God’s son?”
“Uh…” Avery had never actually spoken to Turner. He blushed. “I’m… cool.”
“It’s a glorious day, ain’t it?”
“Yeah, yeah-“
“A glorious day fo’ the Lord! Hallelujah!”
“Hmm-hmm.” Avery was interrupted by the arrival of a woman.
She pushed in front of Avery, ignoring him completely, and said, “There you are! I need the keys.”
“What for?”
“I gots to drive, baby,” she said as though he should have known that.
It was obvious this was Turner’s wife. Avery had noticed the wedding ring, but he had never seen her before. Another factor that made it obvious she was his wife was that she looked, like Turner, like she had been smoking crack for decades and quit recently. Her hair was thin and straw-like, her skin yellowed, her body portly and lumpy in all the wrong ways.
Somewhat less obviously, Avery thought she was on crack again. There was a trace of herky-jerky in her movements, her voice had a warble-grunting tone to it, and her eyes had that cloudy look of a crackhead. Avery was no expert, but she looked like a current-day crackhead.
Judging from the disappointed, betrayed look on Turner’s face, he knew it too. Turner’s mustache quivered. A long silence lay between them like a coffin, and Turner was, for the first time since Avery had seen him, speechless. She fluttered and jittered like she didn’t notice the penetrating stare from her husband.
He looked down his nose at her, kindness in his eyes and sternness in his voice. “Baby, remembuh the decisions you wanna make, remembuh the life you chosen to lead, glorifying our God above-“
“Just gimme the damn keys, Turner,” she snapped. Then she added, “I gots a doctor’s appointment.”
Turner sighed and took the keys out of his pocket. He handed them over to her. Avery kept his head down, pretending he wasn’t listening. He couldn’t believe Frau Klomp hadn’t yet dismissed her class. She was still deep in the throes of a lecture, it looked like through the little window in the door. Did schedules mean nothing to her? Not everybody has the free-wheeling, haphazard lifestyle of a college English professor. She probably has literally no deadlines that matter. Avery did.
“See you, baby, I love you and God loves you and-“
“Same to you.” She virtually sprinted away from him.
Turner watched her go. He hung his head and shook it. He glanced up at Avery and frowned. “I ain’t nevuh gonna see that car again,” he said. He took a deep breath. “You ain’t looking to sell a car on the cheap, is ya?” He chuckled.
“Actually…” Avery had an idea. He could handle skipping one poetry class. “I do have a car I want to get rid of. It’s a Geo Metro, it works just fine but it’s not worth that much money anymore, it’s all beat-up. No one will buy it. It runs, no problem.”
“Really? How much? I can fix it up, yessuh, I can make it run good as new, I know all ’bout cars. The good Lord give me a mind that works like that, ya see-” He pointed to his head. “I got that mechanical brain, ya feel me? Spark plugs and that. Transmission. Mufflers. Carburatuhs. They don’t make cars with carboratuhs no more, but you know, I knows about ’em.”
“Uh-huh,” Avery said. “I’ll-“
“Startuh! I can fix a startuh, no problem.”
“Okay that’s great. I’ll give you the car for free, if you do something for me.”
“What’s that?”
“Stick it in me.”
For the second time in a long time — possibly the second time since he quit smoking crack — Turner was at a loss for words. He opened his mouth to speak but only grunted. His eyes opened wide. “The car?”
“No, I mean, I want to jack you off, and I want to lick your dick, and I want you to stick me in the ass. I know it isn’t Christian and-“
“Yeah.” Turner grabbed Avery by the head and led him forcefully — not aggressively, but firmly — into the walk-in supply closet in the foreign-language hallway. Turner’s mustache quivered on his upper lip like he was upset. His powerful arms exuded heat, and the smell of his deodorant-clad armpits assaulted Avery’s nostrils.
Avery wondered if he had miscalculated. Was Turner going to beat him up? Was he being brought into the closet just for that purpose?
“What’s ya name, son?”
“Avery.”
“You Christian, Avery?” Turner asked, and Avery nodded. Turner shook his hand in the tiny closet. “Oh that’s a good fella. I got nothin’ against no kinda folks, just so’s ya know. I loves ’em Islam’slims, with the-” He pantomimed a turban or some other head-covering. Avery just smiled and nodded as the door to the closet closed. Turner went on to make more gestures that apparently referred to Muslims, but it was dark in the closet, so all Avery could sense was some quick furtive hand movements. Then Turner turned on the single bare lightbulb, bathing the closet in light.
“Oh, I-” Avery blushed as Turner took his shirt off. His bare chest muscles rippled as though he had to use every single one to take his shirt off.
“Hmm-hmmm…” Turner let out a little moan even though nothing had happened yet. Avery hadn’t even touched him.
That was because Turner believed strongly that fornication was wrong — also that any ejaculation outside the confines of a marriage was wrong or at least less than ideal. He thought that accepting money for jacking off — or a car, in this case — was sinful. But he also believed that God forgave anything, especially sins that were inspired by momentary lust and an inability to overcome God’s urges. Besides that, Turner had long ago decided that the greatest sin was destroying his body with crack. Anything that wasn’t that was a minor sin in comparison — he wasn’t hurting anyone, except his wife — and that marriage, he thought, was all but over — and he was only doing it because he was overwhelmed by need and want and desire.
So the sooner he could make himself feel like he was “overwhelmed”, the sooner Turner could abandon his inhibitions. God would forgive anything if Turner was too aroused to control himself, and so that is exactly how aroused Turner endeavored to be.
“Hmmmm….” This time his voice was a low, throaty growl that made Avery shiver. Turner’s hand slipped onto Avery’s shoulder. Turner leaned in and kissed Avery right on the lips. His mustache scratched at Avery’s upper lip. His tongue plunged into Avery’s mouth, and the dusty, sun-choked flavor of his mouth hit Avery’s senses. Avery swooned, and his arms fluttered around Tommy, then wrapped around his shoulders and held on. Turner’s muscles rippled as he kissed Avery passionately — awkwardly at first, then passionately, so it felt like Turner forgot partway through that he was kissing a man. It felt like how he might have kissed his wife, at least back before she stole his car a few minutes ago.
When jacking men off and swallowing their loads, getting them to ramrod him like a prisoner, Avery found they were rarely willing to kiss. They were more likely to give him a reacharound than lock lips with him. He didn’t mind so much. Kissing was optional as far as he was concerned, but he did enjoy it.
So he was shocked that Turner kissed him without even a trace of hesitance. Avery hadn’t even asked him to. He stood there limply for a moment, letting Turner’s tongue explore his mouth. Then Avery’s hands gripped Turner’s chest through his coveralls.
“Boy, you makin’ me forget my religion, and on Father’s Dady!” Turner said softly, his throaty voice echoing in Avery’s ear. “Get on ya knees. You got nice soft, silky lips. Lemme feel ’em, okay? I wanna feel ’em all nice and moist on my dick. Lemme feel it.”
Avery was going to say yes, but Turner kept talking — just like he usually did, except he talked about Avery jacking him off instead of his love for God. Avery didn’t want to interrupt him, so he simply sunk to his knees without another word. Turner ran his fingers through his tangled mullet and gently pushed down on Avery’s shoulders until he was in position.
The closet filled with the scent of cleaning fluids and bleach, which clung to Turner’s bleack-speckled coveralls. Avery’s dick rocketed to attention even before he had gotten to his knees, as the smell of Turner’s manly body and his heavenly crotch got Avery’s blood flowing. He unzipped the fly of Turner’s ratty old coveralls and reached in.
“Hmmm, boy, yeah, you got nice fingers too… You makin’ me forget ’bout sin, yessuh, you makin’ me forget!” Turner said with a whoop and a slap of one palm on his thigh. Avery hadn’t even touched his dick yet, and it was one hundred percent limp still, but Turner was acting like it felt really good. Avery inhaled the zesty must of his unwashed crotch.
And then Avery finally did get his fingers on Turner’s cock, squeezing through the fly and into the humid jungle of his groin. It was hot in there, and Turner’s shaft was greasy and throbbing, veiny even though Avery only barely touched it with his fingertips. The darkened, moistened crevice of his crotch smelled strong, the scent leaking out through the open fly of his coveralls. It was funky and sour, sweet like baking bread, the warmth and humidity of it wafting out onto Avery’s face even before he had gotten the zipper fully down.
His dick was slippery with sweat, and it pulsated beneath Avery’s touch. Turner’s whole body shook from that barest of touches. He leaned back and rested his hefty arms on the shelves of the supply closet. That put his crotch at a perfect height for Avery to nuzzle. His cock slipped into Avery’s mouth.
“Take it out, boy, take it out and make it wet, make it nice and wet…” Turner closed his eyes and leaned against the wall. “Dang, boy… Dang, I say!”
Avery was surprised at how big it was. He had had no reason to think it wouldn’t be big, he just generally assumed that men with huge dicks talked about it a lot and found reasons to bring it up. But Turner, it seemed, was too Christian for that. Turner was short and skinny, tautly muscled but skinny, so it seemed like all his body parts should be small.
But his cock was well over ten inches long and so thick Avery struggled to swallow it. Avery battered it with his tongue, and he held it with two hands while he aggressively worked the tip. He hocked up a mountain of spit that ran down the veiny shaft and soaked into Tommy’s off-black, off-blond, off-gray pubic hair.
When he was fully erect, Turner slapped Avery over the face with his rod — that was something Turner remembered being done to him in his crackhead days. Or had he just witnessed it in prison? He couldn’t remember now. All that seemed like distant memories. Everything from when he was smoking crack was just filed into one confused bucket, and Turner couldn’t get anything coherent out of that bucket.
“Aaaaah…” Turner recalled now. Back when he was living on the streets, man stuff was something that just sort of happened — he’d wake up sixty-nining a man and have no idea why or when he started. Not just men, mind you, he’d participated in some massive orgies, spent hours licking tight pussies and generally just gotten laid way more often than you might think a hobo did.
It had happened a lot less since he quit the drugs, and even less since he got married. He couldn’t even remember the last time he got jacked off by a man. There weren’t nothing wrong with it, as he saw back before he became a Christian. Nowadays, of course… everything that ain’t Christ-full is a sin, and Christ was nowhere to be found in this funk-stinky closet. Turner moaned and gripped Avery’s head, drilling back and forth as he slid his dick down Avery’s throat.
“C’mon, boy, get it down deep…” His voice was hot, gruff, urban and throaty, and Avery wanted to tease him so he’d keep talking and making demands. So Avery just licked his shaft instead of jacking on it. That was hot enough to get Turner hard, but he still found it frustrating. “C’mon, boy, what’choo doin’? You just playin’? Ain’t ya? You ain’t takin’ nothin’ seriously, I see that. You wanted to jack on it, so put it in ya mouth, son, and swallow.”
“Hmmm… Okay,” Avery said with a flirty giggle that made Turner grunt. Avery deep-throated his shaft in one smooth motion. Turner grunted again, and his whole body shook.
“Damn…” Turner couldn’t remember if he’d ever been jacked off this good by a male. His cock throbbed at full erection, and it rubbed in Avery’s throat, which squeezed the shaft and sent wave after wave of pleasure through Turner’s body.
He stood on his toes and threw his head back so hard his mullet slammed into a shelf, and Turner groaned in pain. He lifted his hands up, unsure if he should hold Avery’s head or not — would that be too gross? Would Avery dislike it? Would it make Avery go slower or worse? Turner didn’t want to do anything that would interrupt the mind-blowing pleasure suddenly flowing through his veins.
“You ready… to smash?” Avery asked with another flirty laugh. He recognized that Turner liked that feminine sound, so he did it again and again as he turned around and bent over.
“Hmm-hmm…” Turner couldn’t believe how much like a female Avery’s ass felt. It was plump and smooth and round and had a very feminine shape. He turned out the light, bathing the closet in darkness and making it almost impossible to tell that Avery was not a woman. Turner murmured a brief prayer begging for forgiveness, but he reminded God that he had merely fallen prey to a victimless (nearly-so) sin because he was so uncontrollably horny since his wife no longer jacked him off.
Should I divorce her?
That thought sent a chill up Turner’s spine. He didn’t want to divorce her. His church didn’t even allow it. He couldn’t even ponder that. He’d have to find a way to make the marriage work.
The nice thing about cornholing males, Turner thought but didn’t say, was that anal was “allowed” — not really “allowed”, of course, but anal wasn’t especially prohibited if it was with a man. Turner hadn’t cornholed his wife in the ass because that was a sin (and because she said no). Jacking off with a man was already lust, and that’s a sin in the Bible, so what did it matter in which hole it occurred?
Turner grinned, glad that it was too dark in here for Avery to see how excited he was. He hadn’t cornholed anyone in the ass in years, and he didn’t do anal sex with his wife because it was forbidden in the Bible, or so Turner did believe. He spread Avery’s cheeks and slipped his dick in, awkwardly at first because it was dark and he was unpracticed — and he didn’t want to touch Avery’s ass any more than absolutely necessary.
“Damn!” Avery bit his lip as a jolt of pain hit him. His asshole stretched. Once the tip got in though, he accommodated Turner’s cock the best he could, and he was able to allow more and more of that massive slab of manhood to fill him up.
“Shit, boy, take it…” Turner murmured, his voice soft because people could be heard walking by the supply closet. It wasn’t lockable. Someone could come in any time. That seemed unlikely, simply because nobody here had any reason to open the supply closet, except for Turner himself.
Avery’s head hit the door, making it rattle. He gasped and tried to squirm away, but Turner was oblivious — and didn’t care that much about being caught — and just kept cornholing. Avery let out a howl of desire, which he covered up by biting his lip. The door would have rattled loudly on its hinges, but Avery instead pressed it hard, forcing it to sit tautly in its threshold rather than loosely moving with Avery’s writhing. Vast pleasure wracked Avery’s body, making him writhe and twist in Turner’s grasp. Avery panted and begged for more.
Turner moaned. It was a loud sound, but it didn’t carry well and its origin wasn’t obvious to the few students walking past the closet. They looked around, but assumed it was someone making a joke. Avery would have screamed if he could, but the pleasure that exploded throughout his body was so intense it was all he could do to breathe heavily.
“Shit…” Avery whispered. He jutted his ass back to meet Turner’s dick, until his smooth cheeks rubbed against Turner’s coarse pubic hair. Turner’s balls slapped against his asscheeks.
“Here I go, boy, take it, you gonna take e’ry drop, right? I don’t wanna pull out. Don’t make me spill my seed-“
“No, don’t pull out. Cum inside me, please, please…” Avery said breathlessly. He leaned against the door, just inches from the people filing by in the hallway.
Cum sprayed into him, great creamy torrents of it. His semen was thick and warm, the heat seeping into Avery’s flesh in waves. Turner kept going — he’d been trying not to masturbate lately, and his wife hadn’t been putting out — because he was so horny it hurt. His balls felt over-full, like he was a young man again, and all he could think about was creaming Avery’s ass with his load.
It kept flowing, wad after creamy wad jetting into Avery’s guts. Avery jacked himself off onto the door itself, but Turner didn’t even notice that. He was entirely focused on his own desire. A part of him did notice his cell phone beep, but he ignored it. He just gripped Avery’s asscheeks and held on tight.
“”Hell yeah, boy…” Turner moaned. He stayed in, even as his dick limpened. He didn’t pull it out. He just watched it throb in Avery’s clenching ass.
Eventually, however, Avery had had enough. He pulled off Turner’s cock and sighed. He grabbed some paper towels from one of the shelves and cleaned his ass off, and Turner’s cock too. When he touched the shaft, Turner’s whole body shook and his muscles flexed all together.
“Damn, Turner, that was good,” Avery said with a giggle. “I’m glad you decided to sin with me.”
“Will you go to church with me on Sunday?” Turner asked even before his breathing had recovered. He wiped sweat off his forehead.
“Uh…”
“I done somethin’ wit’ you, you should do somethin’ wit’ me,” Turner said. “I tell you what: I meet you early, okay? You pick me up in the car you about to give me. You can touch me up all kinda ways. Once we get there, I gonna be recommittin’ myself to a life of virtue, and so will you, I hope, wit’ God’s love. We both gonna be seekin’ forgiveness, and we gonna get it, son.”
“Oh, uh, well… Okay,” Avery said. He sighed. Had he really just agreed to go to church? At least, he thought, he’d get to mess around beforehand. He’d have never agreed if he was foggy with post-nut brain.
Turner finally remembered his cell phone beeped. He took it out of his pocket and scowled. “Car’s gone. She said it got stolen.”
“You don’t believe her.”
“She done sold it, I know that. She got a big ol’ bag of crack. I bet I won’t see he for a couple days, she gonna be talkin’ ’bout she at her sister’s,” Turner said. He sighed. “Guess I’ll see you on Sunday.”
“Yeah, see you then,” Avery said. “I can’t wait to make you forget about her.”

The Trucker Bottoms

Avery loves getting on his knees for alpha male truckers, but this “session” of truck stop mayhem goes in a direction he never saw coming! That’s because the legendary Lionel Telluride insists he would never endure a twink on top… yet that’s exacty what he craves!

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Read the whole thing here!

Avery had never been to the Ramwide Truck Stop on Interstate 82. It was a rarely used highway in his experience, so there was little reason for anyone to go to the truck stop there. Avery was not a truck driver, so there was no point at all in him going to a truck stop that was rarely used.
But he felt like doing something new, and he was in a weird, funky mood. He wouldn’t have even minded if there was no one else there. He could just hang out in the woods, smoke the joint in his pocket, then go home. That’s what he would have done in high school. He and his friends met in the woods to smoke a joint after school, but Avery went even when he knew none of his friends would be there. He could do that again here and now. Most days being alone at a truck stop would have been disappointing, but today, he was okay with that.
It was sunshiney today, but it had been raining a lot recently, so he thought maybe that was why he had been in a weird, dark mood. Maybe it was better for there to be no one here.
No one is precisely who he saw. The parking lot was empty except for an old sedan that looked like it might well have been abandoned here for decades, it had literal cobwebs in it. Avery was suddenly struck by a paralyzing feeling of loneliness. There were no people around for maybe a mile or more. He might as well have been lost in the wilderness.
He had been feeling lonely lately, and he’d been considering making changes in his life. Maybe I need to find a girlfriend. He was disappointed in his life lately, and he didn’t know how to get out of the funky rut he found himself in.
He went to the showerhouse. The Ramwide Truck Stop was well-known as a spot where a trucker could get a vending machine sandwich, a nut in a man’s mouth and a shower, not necessarily in that order. Avery could only really help with one of those things. He did enjoy the male physique and the male body, and he enjoyed the things men did with their bodies, but he did have a taste for something besides dropping to his knees and jerking off truckers yet again. Sometimes he did take one up the ass, and he managed to give a lot of truckers rimjobs — which he loved — but most of them were only into head. That was fine with Avery. Fine enough anyway. He greatly adored the male physique, and he didn’t mind, indeed kind of enjoyed, the taste of a masculine man’s dick and jizz.
That was why he came to Ramwide Truck Stops most weekends: because that was where horny, desperate men went.
The showerhouse was a big empty space with a changing area and some showerheads. No one was there. There were not even any puddles — no one had showered here in a long time, the linoleum was bone-dry. It didn’t have that humid stale-steam smell that the more-used showerhouses did at other truck stops. A sock in a corner had green mold growing on it.
No one was around, Avery thought. He wasn’t too disappointed. It was a beautiful day, and he could always go to one of the better truck stops before he went home. He stayed for now though. He enjoyed the liminal nature of the empty truck stop and showerhouse. It looked like a scene from a post-apocalyptic movie.
The sound of a truck engine rumbling filled the air. Avery was so used to hearing that that he didn’t quite register it at first — he just let the sound wash over him while he stared at the empty showerhouse.
Then he realized what it meant: somebody was here.
The engine turned off. Avery crept outside cautiously. With only one trucker here, he felt unsafe. Most Ramwide Truck Stops were clogged with people. The people were unsavory, but still, Avery felt sure no one would hurt him in a normal truck stop — they might rip the stereo out of his car when he wasn’t looking or even take the wallet out of his pants while he showered or messed around, but they wouldn’t hurt him.
Here, at this Ramwide Truck Stop, there were no witnesses for miles around. No one could protect Avery here.
The man who stepped out of the truck was handsome and well-formed. He was a short but muscular man with a thick scruffy beard, a dense mop of unkempt hair that extended to his neck, and a powerful barrel-shaped chest. He wore camo pants and a plain wifebeater, beneath which his muscles rippled as he climbed out of the cab of his truck.
The truck stop was silent. The man stood there near his truck, and he loudly sniffed like he was testing the air.
“Piggie! I smells a piggie!” he called out. He glanced at Avery’s car, parked in the front lot, and at the abandoned sedan collecting dust in the back. “Where you at, piggie?”
Avery remained unsure about what he should do, but there was nowhere to hide in the showerhouse, which was clearly the first place the trucker was going to check, so Avery just stepped outside. He blushed as the trucker approached him with a crude sneer.
“Hey, I’m Avery-“
The man rushed forward as though he was going to tackle Avery. Instead he just bent Avery’s head back, stuck his nose in Avery’s mouth and inhaled. Avery could feel the air in his mouth escaping up the trucker’s nostrils, and the man’s bristly beard scratched against Avery’s face.
“You smell like piggie,” the man said.
“Uh… Okay. My name is Avery-“
The man was quiet. He pondered Avery for a long time. “Fine,” he said, as though there was some chance he would have decided that Avery’s name was not fine. He scowled at Avery. “You one of them truck stop booty boys?”
“Uh… yeah,” Avery said. “You want to blow a nut?”
“Yes, I do. Lemme make sure you deserve it,” he said. “Get on your knees and sniff my crotch.”
Avery blushed. He looked around to make sure no one was coming. Then he dove his face into the trucker’s crotch. He felt his thick, soft cock through the fabric of his camo pants. He inhaled loudly. The only scent he got was unclean fabric, with a faint afternote of piss. But the scent was strong and dizzying, and Avery enjoyed it. He gasped and smiled, then licked the fabric of his pants.
“Now sniff my ass,” he said. When Avery hesitated, the trucker sniffled. “Gotta make sure we’s compatible.”
Avery crawled around to the man’s backside. He had a juicy, plump ass that Avery wanted to taste. He didn’t hesitate before ramming his head between those cheeks the best he could without dropping the trucker’s pants. His ass was toned and firm, and it felt perfectly hairy. It smelled a little like rump and a lot like sweaty musk. It made Avery hard in his pants.
“Stay on your knees,” the man said. “My name is Lionel.”
“Nice to meetcha, Lionel,” Avery said.
“I don’t mess with truck stop booty boys,” he said. “Never.”
Avery nodded as though he believed it. Most of the truckers in America told him that right before they let him handle their cock, so he didn’t actually believe it. But he smiled like he was glad Lionel made an exception for him.
He licked his teeth and stayed silent for a long time. Avery blushed and looked down at his feet.
“If you want me to ram you, we’re gonna do it my way,” he said. “Crawl after me.” He walked swiftly away, towards the back of the showerhouse. Avery crawled after him as fast as he could, like a clumsy puppy. The trucker grunted his approval. “That means you don’t get to touch me. I’ll drain my dick down your throat, maybe ram you in the ass. You beg me for it the whole time. If you stop beggin’, I will not stop wreckin’ you. Once we get in there, it ain’t gonna stop til I is satisfied, and I am never satisfied.”
“Okay.”
“I’m not gonna ram you nice either. Don’t bother tellin’ me how to do it in a way that you like, cuz I won’t do it. As far as I’m concerned, if we both enjoy it, then there ain’t no point. I is here to take pleasure from you. Any pleasure you feel is sumpin’ I ain’t yet grab. But I will, and it will hurt, you little bitch. I will take pleasure outta you til God hates you.”
Avery was unsure about the theological validity of that promise, but he had no interest in arguing about it. He just nodded his understanding as he scurried on all fours along the muddy ground. They went behind the showerhouse, not into it.
“I’m gonna ram you in the ass til my dick comes out ya mouth, and even then I’ll keep goin’. I’m gonna make you my gutter bitch. That okay with you?” He barked, following behind Avery crawling forward, and he spat on the ground. “No, don’t tell me. If you don’t like it, just crawl away. I won’t come after you.”
Avery stayed right where he was. Lionel had stopped in the woods. There was a creek nearby, and it appeared that the creek frequently overflowed its banks. They were in a wide, smooth, flat area where the ground was saturated and muddy. Behind Avery and Lionel was the truck stop, and ahead was the highway, but in between was this creek and a small patch of woodland.
“I want you to know that I got a swastika tattooed on my chest,” Lionel said. He sniffed. “That don’t mean nothin’, ‘cept that I needed a little protection in prison. Don’t ask me no questions about it.” Lionel stripped off his shirt, and his powerful, hairy chest made Avery’s heart skip a beat. There was also a brilliant crimson swastika that stretched over his entire chest. That made Avery a little afraid, but he had known more than one white American who had prison tats he didn’t really believe in, so Avery was willing to look the other way. Besides that, he had to admit Lionel’s entire redneck-in-the-muck look was appealing, and it made Avery’s dick hard. It was so exciting to jack off with men, like this, dangerous men who could hurt him badly if they wanted to.
“Okay,” Avery said. He took off his own clothes. He tried to keep his shirt from getting too muddy — he laid it to rest on a clean-ish log. But his body was already covered in mud.
Avery was about to drop to his knees and start stroking, but Lionel stopped him with a firm, callused grip on his shoulders. He growled.
“You promise you won’t try to ram me, right?” He muttered through gritted teeth. He very lightly slapped Avery on the cheek. “I don’t do that! Don’t even try!” He scowled and spat a foul-smelling wad of saliva onto Avery’s face. “Right? I’m not touchin’ ya dick under any circumstances. You don’t get to put anything up my ass. ‘Cept maybe ya tongue. But only if you don’t like it.”
“Right. That’s right. That’s correct. Yes. Uh-huh. Certainly. Absolutely. Sure. Yes. Right. Yes. Absolutely. Uh-huh,” Avery said. Once he started babbling, he couldn’t stop until Lionel literally squeezed Avery’s lips together with one hand.
“Good.” Lionel spat on the ground. He unzipped his camo pants and took his dick out through the fly. It was huge, thick and almost a foot long, maybe even longer. It was veiny and pale as marble. Lionel’s skin was all pale, in between the tattoos, shockingly pale, like it made sense to think he might be freshly released from prison. He obviously didn’t go outside shirtless often, like he was now.
Avery was on the ground on his knees. Lionel’s bare, uncut cock swayed in front of him. There were already a few spatters of mud on it.
Before he could start stroking, however, Lionel sunk to the ground as well. He laid on his belly, lifted his head up and swallowed Avery’s dick so fast Avery didn’t realize what was happening until it had already begun.
“Uh… Okay. Well… I see. Okay…” Avery gasped. A shiver of pleasure ran up Avery’s spine, as his cock hurried to full erection. He was so surprised he could only babble some more. “I didn’t, uh, I didn’t think you were into this…” His hands fluttered above Lionel’s head.
Lionel just noisily continued, ignoring Avery’s words. He deep-throated Avery’s half-hard cock until his nostrils wedged in Avery’s meaty crotch and pubic hair. Once Avery was fully hard, Lionel struggled to get his whole cockshaft in his mouth, but he kept on trying even as he choked and sputtered on it.
His unkempt beard scratched against Avery’s thighs. Avery was such a thin, delicate man that Lionel’s bushy beard was wider than Avery’s entire body. Every time Lionel gagged, his massive muscles all flexed at once.
Since Avery wasn’t very tall and he was still on his knees, Lionel had to get real low to line his mouth up with Avery’s cock. Lionel’s hairy chest and belly were down in the mud, while Avery lowered himself as much as possible, until he just sat on the ground. He sank into the mud as Lionel jerked him off, lips encircling his shaft.
“Oh, god, uh… Lionel…”
Lionel’s hands grasped Avery’s fingers and dragged his hands to the back of his head. Avery’s fingers gripped his greasy hair and held him in place. That gave Avery the leverage to force his dick all the way down Lionel’s gullet. He felt unsure about using Lionel’s head for leverage to throat him down like this, but Lionel had put him in this position, and Avery couldn’t bring himself to stop even if he wanted to. This had only been going on for a minute or so, and already it felt so good Avery was on the verge of blowing his nut.
But then Lionel slapped Avery’s asscheeks. A growl escaped from around the cock in his throat, and he slammed his head as far down as he could on Avery’s cockshaft. He gagged.
It was clear he wanted Avery to throat him down, so Avery took a deep breath and did the best he could. The tiny muscles of his delicate chest writhed as he used every part of his body to hold onto Lionel’s head and ram his dick all the way down his throat. His balls slapped against the dense nest of coarse hairs on Lionel’s chin.
Once he got started, he became more and more excited by it. Avery realized that this was the kind of change he needed — he’d been considering a move, but why move somewhere else where you’ll just jerk off guys at the same kind of truck stops? Given the nature of truckers, it might be the very same guys, demanding blowjobs since their wives don’t put out anymore and they’re too lazy and stinky rutting bastards to have an affair with a girl.
Lionel gagged and choked up profuse spit. His face was red and his eyes teared up as his body cried out for oxygen. He flopped around in the muck, splashing up mud until his hairy body was covered in filth.
To an outside observer, it would have looked like the tiny, delicate-bodied twink, Avery, managed to hold down the powerfully-built bear Lionel, whose muscled back and hairy shoulders writhed as he allowed his throat to be drilled mercilessly. In reality, of course, Avery was too weak to force anything on Lionel.
Avery pulled out only when he felt his orgasm approaching, and he didn’t want to finish this soon. He took a deep breath and jammed his erection over Lionel’s face. Lionel gasped for air, and Avery moaned.
Lionel gasped for air. “You stupid weirdo! You’re gonna have to hold me down and make me squeal like a piggie. Oink, oink, motherfucker.” He opened his mouth again and tried to lick Avery’s dick some more. He looked so hungry and mean that Avery was momentarily afraid he’d bite his cock off, so Avery angled his dick away. Lionel continued to crawl around in the dirt like he was trying to get at it.
“You want me to ram you? In the ass?”
“I want you to make me squeal like a piggie!” he said and rubbed his face between Avery’s asscheeks. “Make me nasty. Make me deserve all this mud and muck. Make me so dirty not even my mama could ever look me in the eye again.”
“Uh…”
But then Lionel bent over. He put his face deep in the mud — right in, so deep that he couldn’t breathe — and stuck his ass in the air. He had big broad, plump cheeks that were covered in fine black hairs. If his ass weren’t also dripping with clumps of mud, Avery might have wanted to lick his crack and his asshole.
Instead he approached Lionel on foot, his boner sticking out from his unkempt crotch. He had to stand on his toes to get his dick into Lionel’s ass, which was so wide Avery’s entire face could have fit between those cheeks. He paused with his dick waiting there in Lionel’s sweaty, moist and muddy asscrack.
“Are you sure you want this?” Avery asked. His heart pounded. He still wasn’t sure he was reading this situation correctly.
Lionel howled. Avery didn’t even realize he howled the word yes until it was complete, and Lionel backed his ass up. His asshole twinkled as its rim rubbed against Avery’s dick, sending a wave of pleasure through his body. Lionel shuddered too.
Taking a deep breath, Avery pushed his cock into Lionel’s ass. As soon as the tip entered him, Lionel sharply gasped and threw his head back. He pulled his face out of the mud, which dripped off him in great gobs that plopped back into the mud-pit beneath him.
When Avery didn’t detect resistance, he kept on shoving his dick in deeper and deeper. The mud acted as a lubricant and Avery moaned at the intense sensations rolling through his veins. Avery had never rammed a swastika-clad muscle-heavy redneck’s hairy ass like this.
Though Lionel didn’t try to stop him, Avery did feel some internal resistance. Lionel’s body was tight like a glove. Was he intact? Avery thought probably not, but it did feel tight as a corset Avery threw his head back and moaned, spasms of ecstasy enrobing his body.
He had rarely felt like such a real man. Avery normally serviced big alpha males like Lionel. He occasionally got a handjob, or more often a reacharound, and that was about as much as he could ever expect. True, every once in awhile he’d get to mess around, hump on a bigger man until he made Avery stop. The closest he’d ever come was sticking his dick in the ass of some muscle-bound football player until he scampered away. That had lasted maybe thirty seconds.
Avery grabbed ahold of Lionel’s thick mane, which had been greasy even before he doused his head in mud. Now his skin was so slick it was hard to keep a tight grasp on. Avery held on and rammed back and forth, even as his hands slipped all over Lionel’s slick body.
“Gonna make you squeal like a piggie!” Avery said with a laugh. His voice felt deeper than it had ever been. As he cackled, he rammed his dick all the way in, making Lionel’s ass clench and his spine straighten.
“Soo-eee!” Lionel screamed over and over. Avery tightened his hold on Lionel’s head, while the bigger man rutted and writhed in the mud pit.
Lionel roared in anger, arousal, pain and overwhelming bliss. Pain erupted in his scalp while pleasure exploded in his crotch. Lionel jacked himself off furiously, and his asshole twinkled and clenched as he shot his load onto the ground beneath him.
“Ah hell yeah! Fuck!”
Cum sprayed into the mud beneath him. Lionel’s whole body turned red, and his muscles went hard all at once — so Avery felt like he was gripping a muddy statue — then soft, then hard again before he turned into a limp pile of redneck flesh that collapsed into the muck.
Avery was on top of him, laying on his back. He kissed the sweaty filth of Lionel’s reddish, hairy back. He licked it up, savoring the salt of his sweat and the grimy, earthy flavor of mud. Lionel moaned.
Grinding his hips, Avery moved his cock in a circular motion inside Lionel, who contorted in sync with Avery’s motions. He made sure to ram every inch of Lionel’s insides, and he moaned as well, his open mouth moaning directly into the meat of Lionel’s shoulders.
“Fill me up, bitch!” Lionel said. He spat onto the ground like he hated Avery and was imagining spitting on Avery. His face was ruddy and tense, sensations visibly roiling his body from head to toe, as exquisite bliss wracked both men’s bodies.
Avery was already overwhelmed by the power of his orgasm. His eyes rolled back as he slammed his dick all the way in again. He could feel Lionel’s pulsating prostate beneath the tip of his dick, and Lionel puffed up his chest. He bit his lip and Avery moaned again, even nibbling on Lionel’s flesh.
Finally he was done. Cum sprayed into Lionel’s ass. He shot a thick, dense load, with a texture like the mud that coated both men’s bodies. Avery’s wad filled Lionel’s body with his creamy seed, so much of it seeping into him that it dripped out his ass and into the mud beneath.
Avery stayed there for as long as it took. Every few seconds he made a rough oinking sound, and Lionel did likewise, with a reedy, exhausted tenor to his baritone voice, as a few final jizzwads spurted from both men’s manhoods. Avery waited until every last drop of cum had escaped from his dick.
Then he pulled away, and his cock slipped out of Lionel’s ass. He took a deep breath. He felt like a conquering champion, and he even pumped his biceps though he knew they looked like pale matchsticks.
His powerful feelings only lasted a second. Then he was overwhelmed by exhaustion, and a little fear. His knees buckled and he nearly collapsed.
“You stay here,” Lionel said. “I don’t wanna let some dude watch me shower.” He stood in front of Avery, his bare dick swinging between his legs. He grabbed up all his muddy clothes and walked away. “You stay here in the mud and you keep on making oinking noises like the little cum-piggie you is.”
Avery was still too dazed by his orgasm and his uncertainty around this situation to respond. He just nodded. He let out a tired, half-hearted oink.
“And if you even think about putting your dick inside me, I will come back here and rip your head off, you bastard,” Lionel said as he walked away. “I don’t do that. Nobody can make me do that!”
Avery stayed there in the dirt for a long time, feeling mud and assjuice drip off him. “Okay,” he said in response to Lionel, who was long gone, no doubt already in the shower. By the time Avery was able to take a deep breath and rise to his feet, he could hear Lionel’s truck engine start up again.
When he walked on uneasy legs around the corner, he saw Lionel’s truck drive away. Avery waved, but Lionel ignored him.
“Well,” Avery said out loud but aimed at no one in particular. “This is my new favorite truck stop. I’ll be back here again.”