featuring victims – Mansploitation

The Fat Cop

Bart is out and about when a violent encounter leads to him meeting the hunkiest of pudgy cops — Officer Lawrence Lumpowski! Can Bart handle the voluminousness of Lumpowski’s alpha male meat?

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Bart was tiny, and he felt like an idiot standing outside with a broom in his hand. What was he going to do with a broom? Sweep the man to death?
A few yards away, Josh Winters, a skinny white thug with a tattooed neck and a ropy-muscled body, stood in a wifebeater and jeans, shouting into a brick wall. He wasn’t even comprehensible anymore, just red-faced, blaring, spittle flecking the wall, fingers tightened into a fist that smacked against the bricks. He had so many endorphins running through his veins he didn’t even respond like he was in pain, even though he must be, his hands were bleeding.
A lesser man, Bart thought, or any woman would think Josh was the most handsome.
But Bart wasn’t into skinny guys, or even muscular guys. He appreciated the physiques of fat, stout, big or chunky men. Josh was the exact opposite of Bart’s preferred body type.
He stood in the doorway with his broom, ready to jab it into Josh’s face if he tried to come in again. Luckily it didn’t seem to have occurred to Josh to try a window, or one of the other doors into the photography studio — which, now that it was relevant to him, seemed disastrously hard to secure to Bart. There were a dozen windows on the ground-floor, and three doors.
If this was a zombie movie, he thought, there’d be no way I could keep this place secure.
There was just the one man though, not a horde of zombies. He had shown up to “speak to” his girlfriend, a plus-sized model named September. She was stunningly gorgeous, and she worked for Bart at his plus-size modeling agency. She was here to model lingerie intended for “rubenesque ladies with curves for miles”, according to the description the label had sent him. That was September. She was rubenesque for sure, or maybe a few pounds under rubenesque, which was even better for fashion purposes. She was achievable-hot for actual rubenesque women.
Anyway, Bart had been keeping Josh Winters at bay with the broom for ten minutes, waiting for the cops to show up.
“Girl, you had better get ya stanky ass out here or I swear I will smack the tits off ya body! Huh? You playin’ wit’ me? Huh? You think I wouldn’t find out about ya sluttin’ it around! You is fuckin’ every man in the state, bitch! You disrespectin’ me! I swear to Christ, girl, I will take that broom off ya bitch-ass boss and ram it so far up his ass I gonna sweep his tongue clean!”
Bart’s heart raced as he jabbed the broom at him. He had started off using the handle-end, but he soon learned that the straw end was actually very painful, and it covered a wider area. He jabbed it into Josh’s face, leaving a multitude of red marks and making him groan and scratch at his eyes. Bart tried to punch Josh while he screamed obscenities, but he only bumped into the door itself.
“Ah!” Bart squealed. He was a tiny man who had never been in a fight in his life. He didn’t know what to do about this. He swatted Josh in the face again and tried to push him away.
“Fuck you! Little bitch! I’m comin’ in there! Bitch, you had better get out here right now-!” His face was blustery as the broom handle again pushed him from the doorway.
Finally, a siren could be heard. It felt like he had called the police an hour ago. It had actually been some twenty minutes, which was a superlative response time for the Baltimore City Police Department. Bart waved the broom towards Josh, who staggered around, blinded — some of the straw from the broom had scratched his eyes.
“Fuckin’ shit! Did you call the cops on me, you bitch?! I never hit you! I ain’t never hit you! Don’t tell ’em I was ever violent, bitch! You fuckin’ bitch! I never hit you! You fell, you fall, you fell, you fell, bitch! You know that!”
Soon it was all over. Two bored-looking cops got out of their car and grabbed Josh. They seemed to know him personally, and they seemed to take offense at having to arrest him yet again. They tossed him into the wall until he stopped shouting, and they got handcuffs on him. His nose bleeding, eyes red like a stoner, bleary and cursing under his breath, he was forced into the back of the cop car.
One of the cops went in to talk to September and take her statement, while the other cop stayed with Bart. Bart had been so excited and worked up that he didn’t notice until then that this second cop had one of those physiques he craved.
He was pudgy, which was what Bart liked most about him. He was white and bald — it looked like he was balding by nature, but he shaved his head to a gleaming cue ball — with a powerful body and a layer of fat atop it. His flesh bulged against his uniform shirt.
“Uh-huh, sweet, okay, so you jabbed him wit’ the broom?”
“Only when he was trying to get in and threatening my model,” Bart said. He wondered if he should be making a statement at all — would they charge him with a crime? What if Josh was blinded by that broom?
“Don’t worry, we ain’t lookin’ to charge no one. You shoulda broke that broom off inside his bitch-ass,” the cop said. He had deep dimples like he would have been handsome if he weren’t so pudgy. He had a stentorian Baltimore accent with a souciant of East Coast stawk. His name, according to the badge on his chest, was Officer Lawrence Lumpowski.
The name was appropriate, as he was shaped like a muscle-bound lump of manmeat.
Bart wondered if he could get a taste of Officer Lumpowski. He wanted to so bad he could already imagine what it would taste like — bitter and salty and warm, fleshy, soft and firm at once. He wanted him real bad.
But how could he make that happen?
As Bart finished giving his statement, another car pulled up, followed by a second one. These weren’t police cars. A pair of young men got out, running their fingers through their fantastic hair. They wore sunglasses and sleeveless shirts that showed off their bodies. They had six-packs and perfect teeth.
They were models as well, and a few minutes later they were joined by a photographer, a makeup lady and a talent agent — they were who had rented this photography studio after Bart. Bart had forgotten that he only had the space until four o’clock. The fashion shoot was supposed to be quick in the studio, then him and September were to go to the florist shop on Elm to shoot some more pictures. The arrival of Josh Winters had delayed everything.
As the male models filed in, and September came out with her girlfriends comforting her — she had called them — Bart stood back with Officer Lumpowski. Lumpowski’s eyes opened wide at the sight of September — a big-ass beauty if there ever was one — and watched her get in her friend’s car. He didn’t stop staring until she was out of sight, and there was nothing to look at but two male models comparing abs.
“Shit… Was I starin’ at her? I shouldn’t stare at battered girls, but damn, she was hot,” Lumpowski said. “What was she doin’ with a loser like Josh?”
“Ugh, don’t even get me started. You shoulda seen her last boyfriend. He tried to get her to sign one of those consensual slave contracts, and he lived with his mom in a trailer,” Bart said. He rolled his eyes. “Women have awful judgement.”
“Yeah.”
“You like your girls thick, huh?” Bart said.
“If they look like that, hell yeah,” Lumpowski said with a low whistle aimed at no one in particular. He glanced at the male models with their oil-glistening six-packs. Lumpowski laughed and clutched his belly. “I ain’t never one day in my life have a six-pack like that. Shit, I ain’t never have a one-pack. I once had a dream ‘bout doin’ half a situp and woke up sore as a dog.”
“I prefer the physiques of a larger man,” Bart said. He cleared his throat. “In fact… I love to jack off big men.” He patted Lumpowski on the arm. “Including large cops.”
Lumpowski laughed, then cut himself off, bit his lip and blushed. His big chunky cheeks turned bright red. He realized Bart was serious. “Oh… Wait, what?”
“You actually have the perfect male physique, Lumpowski,” Bart said. “I wouldn’t change a thing. I’d gladly get you off anytime. You could treat me like a fake pussy, like your own personal fleshlight. Shit, if you weren’t a cop, I’d have already offered you fifty bucks just to let me stroke it a bit.” He threw his hands up. “But I realize you’re not into that. Sorry.” He paused and giggled. “I was just kiddin’ about offering money, Officer. That’s probably a crime, I would expect, some sort of hygiene thing, right? At least against department policy, I’m sure. And I would never ask you to violate a department policy.”
“Uh-huh. You serious? You into them…?” He grunted and covered his leering eyes, suppressing a laugh. “You’re into… like… fat… men?”
He looked so embarrassed that it made Bart laugh along with him. Luckily September was gone so it didn’t seem disrespectful. Bart clutched Officer Lumpowski’s jiggling body for support as he guffawed, and Lumpowski turned redder and redder. He watched Bart’s hands clutch his chest and belly.
“Oh yeah, yeah, I sure do-” Bart said, clutching Lumpowski’s bicep through his uniform shirt. though covered with a layer of flab, Bart could feel the giant firm muscle beneath.
“Lumpowski! Let’s go!” His partner, Heartley, called out. He was getting in the patrol car, but he stopped when he saw Lumpowski. He motioned towards the driver’s side door as though Lumpowski should already be behind the wheel. Then Officer Heartley said, “Whatchoo makin’ that face at?”
“Oh, just this dude…” Lumpowski said. “It’s a… Nothing. Nevuhmind.” He glanced at Bart. “Nevuhmind, you. That ain’t… Don’t do nothin’ Jesus wouldn’t do.” He was still red-faced and chuckling as he got in the patrol car and drove away. Bart was disappointed. He had thought that that encounter was going somewhere.
So he just went home. That photo shoot had been a bust. Lumpowski had been a bust. He never even took a single pic for the lingerie company. He was going to have to set up another photoshoot with September. He sent her a text asking how she was doing and asking her to let him know if she would be willing to do the photoshoot again, once she was ready.
He’d already paid her too. Shit…
Then he went out for his nightly walk. He liked to walk as the sun went down and it wasn’t so hot anymore, and the traffic on the road wasn’t so bad — there was no sidewalk in the area he did most of his walking. It was much easier once the day’s traffic died down, and he preferred walking in the neighborhood to using a treadmill.
He hadn’t gotten very far, however, before there was a car by his side — a police car. It pulled to a stop and the driver’s side window rolled down.
“Hey, man! Hey… you want a ride home?” It was Officer Lumpowski, his big bald face gleaming as he smiled. Heartley was gone, it seemed.
“Oh, uh, well… I was just walking, y’know… for walking.” Bart slid into the passenger seat. “But thanks.”
Lumpowski started driving again. “So, uh… I was kinda hopin’ I’d run into you,” he said. He cleared his throat.
“Uh-huh.” Bart pretended to have no idea what Lumpowski was talking about, though he had a pretty good idea where this was going.
“And, like… how you… you’re into… jacking off big guys. You know? Like… was you serious?”
“Very,” Bart said. “Did you get my address from the statement I made? Is that legal?”
“It ain’t illegal unless I access the data in the database for an impropuh purpose,” Lumpowski said. “Ain’t illegal to remembuh what you told me and write it down somewhere othuuh than the private database.”
“I see. That’s a cute technicality. Remember to take it for a walk and feed it every day.”
“So, like… If you serious, y’know… When I was growin’ up, my Uncle Ralph, he was a biker and shit-“
“Sounds nice.”
“And he was always, y’know… He said one time — or a couple times, but y’know… like he said… you know… it ain’t wrong, like it ain’t a sin — you know, like you can still — I don’t mess wit’ girl crime victims. Okay? Don’t make me do that sensitivity trainin’ again, I can’t handle that-“
“I won’t complain. You can park there,” Bart said, pointing to his driveway. Lumpowski pulled in and stopped the car.
“So, like…” Lumpowski’s big face was as red as a cranberry, shadowy with the dim light of dusk. “So, uh… I was… My uncle… and like, my dad, and some other guys, uh… back then… They was like… It ain’t, you know, makin’ ‘em sinfulnessly… if they’s… like on top. You know? Like… tops and bottoms, you know about that?”
“Yes, I know about that.”
“So, uh… like… Do you… think that… is right?”
“Well, it didn’t make any sense, you were babbling. But your uncle sounds like a very smart man, Officer Lumpowski,” Bart said. “I think he was right.”
“Shit, so like… I want… I mean… I got a wife, you know, but uh… She don’t like me… We is on the feud… I mean… She’s at her sister’s. She say I’m… Well, she ain’t too fond of me right now,” he said. “So, y’know-” He gasped and sucked in his breath as Bart’s hand snaked over to his lap. Bart’s delicate fingers snuck under his belly and into his crotch, where he ran his fingertip over the shaft of Lumpowski’s cock, stretching against the fabric of his uniform slacks.
“How far back does that seat go?” Bart asked softly.
“Pretty far, see?” He raced to activate the lever and scoot his seat back. That gave Bart plenty of room to get his face on Lumpowski’s dick between his belly and the steering wheel.
“I think cops should blow their nut all the time. It aids in focus,” Bart said. “But of course I’d never make girls do it, that would be wrong. So I’d just have to step up to the plate and jerk all those dicks.”
“Ah, shit, man, I ain’t stick my dick in a wet mouth in like six months. My wife won’t do it anymore. She said she read on a website how it’s like… impressive.”
Bart looked up at him. “What?” He undid the belt and unzipped Officer Lumpowski’s slacks.
“I swear, that’s what she said. She can’t do it anymore because it’s impressive.”
“Oh… Are you sure she didn’t say oppressive?”
“Ah! Oh, fuck! Yeah, that makes more sense!” He lifted his ass up enough to rearrange the tight white briefs he wore, giving him enough space to pull his fat bullish prick out through the fly. It flopped onto Bart’s face. “Oh sorry, I ain’t mean to mollywop you.”
“That’s okay,” Bart said. “I appreciate a good mollywopping.” He took Lumpowski’s dick in his hand and let it slide into his mouth.
Lumpowski sighed. “Shit, man…” One of his heavy hands touched Bart’s head, spreading his mouth open. “Sorry, shit, Jesus, man, that feels good. I needed that.” He leaned his head back and sighed. His dick stiffened up quickly — he must have been very horny, Bart thought.
Soon it jabbed into the back of Bart’s throat, and Bart deep-throated him into his meaty crotch, his nose nuzzling Lumpowski’s unkempt pubic bush. He inhaled deeply of his unwashed scent, the day’s musk having built up. Bart bet Lumpowski didn’t wash these slacks every day either, they smelled stale, like they were soaked in Lumpowski’s intense scent.
“Damn… My wife never sucked me off like that, yo,” he said. “I used to know this girl who did, but she dumped me a long time ago. My wife, shit… she never deep-throated me. Or even tried to. I thought that was messed up, she was always givin’ me tips on how to lick her pussy better, and printing out these weird-ass articles about how I should watch her put makeup on cuz that’ll make me lick pussy better. She said it helped but then like a week later…” His voice trailed off into a moan, and he humped his hips up, forcing his dick deeper into Bart’s throat. “Shit, man…”
Car 91. Car 91. Are you still on the road?
“Shit!” Lumpowski grabbed the radio off the dashboard. He took a deep breath, hoping he didn’t sound like he was getting off. “Yeah. I’m still out. What’s up?”
Chief says you gotta come back, you never signed that report about the domestic violence call.
“Goddamn it…” Lumpowski said. “Hey, man, was there anything you forgot to tell me earlier?”
“What?” Bart pulled off his cock, thick tendrils of spit still connecting him to the shaft.
“I gotta go back to sign it today, which is a pain in the ass, unless I gots a valid reason for not finishing it. It’s a law,” he said. “If you forgot to tell me somethin’…”
“That guy, Josh, he called me a pussy. Did I mention that before?”
“Nah, you ain’t say that. Good. That’s good, that’ll do,” he said. He spoke into the radio. “I had to re-interview the witness, about a possible miso… misojinny hate-crime charge. I’m doing it right now,” he said. “I’ll have to sign it tomorrow.”
Ten-four.
Lumpowski laughed. “Shit, thanks, man.”
“No problem… You could say thanks another way, you know…”
“What?” Lumpowski was already trying to feed his dick back into Bart’s mouth. He grunted, his cheeks ruddy again as he was nearing his orgasm. Precum ran down his shaft, and Bart licked it up.
“Hmmm… You taste real good, but you’d feel even better in my ass,” Bart said.
“Holy shit, you’re serious? You don’t think I’m too pudgy?”
“Too pudgy? Is that a thing?” Bart said. “I’m pretty sure it isn’t. I’m an expert, and I’ve never heard of it.” He leaned his own seat back as far as it would go. Then he climbed up into the basket-seat, facing backward. The cop car was barely spacious enough for Lumpowski to fit behind him, but Bart enjoyed the feel of him squeezing in there.
“Man, can’t we go inside?”
“No way,” Bart said. “I wanna get plowed in a cop car. Don’t worry, none of my neighbors can see.” Trees and an unkillable grove of bamboo blocked the view from the road, and the only house nearby was for sale and not currently being lived in.
“It’s a tight fit,” he said, then he chuckled as he slid past Bart. He grunted and squeezed to get behind him, his rock-hard dick rubbing against Bart’s ass. “Ha, ‘tight fit’.”
Bart giggled too. “Tight fits are the best.” He didn’t make it too easy for Lumpowski to get behind him. He liked making Lumpowski work and rub all over Bart’s body as he squeezed into the passenger seat. Bart was crouched down, spreading his cheeks to give Lumpowski easy access.
“Does your wife ever let you fuck her in the ass?” Bart asked.
He snorted. “No way. She wouldn’t even let me look at her ass,” he said. “She said I got a dick like a billyclub. She weren’t never gonna let me try anal.”
“Why did you hook up with her? She sounds like a bitch.”
“Yeah… But she’s hot, and y’know… Women don’t like pudgy guys, so I don’t got a lotta choices.” he said. “And she was nice… y’know, before. Before we got married.” He wedged his dick between Bart’s cheeks. “Ah, shit, I can’t believe I’m gonna stick a dude’s butt. I seen guys do that in jail, but shit, man…”
Bart opened his mouth to respond but all that came out was a wrenching oomph as he felt intense pressure in his ass. He could understand why Lumpowski’s girlfriend was not so enamored of the way he plowed into — he was aggressive and awkward, plowing in at different angles, huffing and puffing like a tired bull, his heavy body pressing down on Bart.
But while his girlfriend might not have liked it, Bart loved being treated like a piece of meat. Lumpowski could use and abuse his ass for as long as he wanted and, ideally, a little longer than that. He groaned and moaned, turning his face so Lumpowski’s hot breath condensed on his cheeks instead of the back of his head. His hands turned into claws that dug into the upholstery beneath him.
“Shit, man, damn, lemme in, shit, don’t move, don’t move, don’t move—” Lumpowski said. He sucked in his breath and a few drops of spit escaped onto Bart’s face. Intense pressure erupted in Bart’s ass, as Lumpowski’s cock rammed inexorably deeper and deeper. You could tell he’d never fucked a woman in the ass, because he was awkward and fumbling, with the cramped quarters contributing to his struggles. Bart writhed in his powerful body, as pleasure flowed like wine through his veins.
Bart slurped it all down, and when he got Lumpowski’s thick arm in front of him — Lumpowski’s writhing atop him ended with Bart in a loose chokehold — he slurped the sweat that clung to him, and he licked Lumpowski’s dense arm hairs. The smell of Lumpowski’s armpits wafted into his nostrils. A cavernous moan of bliss escaped from Lumpowski’s throat, and he squeezed Buck tight.
His uniform scratched at Bart’s back as Lumpowski pressed down on him, cock all the way in, moving in little circles, grinding atop Bart’s prostate. Bart cried out, the sound muffled by Lumpowski’s uniform and arm. Bart jacked his own self off, reaching his orgasm as his prostate exploded in ecstasy.
Cum sprayed onto the seat, followed moments later by a burst of semen into Bart’s ass. Bart sighed and moaned, slurping on Lumpowski’s forearm hard enough to leave a hickey. The pain in his ass right now was intense, but the pleasure was even intenser, and it made Bart dizzy, giddy with desire. He could have gladly flailed beneath Lumpowski’s body forever.
But eventually he was done, and Lumpowski’s cock fell limp inside him. Great gobs of cum spilled out, but Lumpowski remained right there. He murmured “don’t move” every few seconds, though Bart couldn’t move anyway, the pleasure within him was so potent he couldn’t think of it, and there wasn’t space to move in the tiny squad car.
Then Lumpowski backed out with a chortling gasp. He struggled to back away enough to get his dick out, since he was trapped in the little space between the seat and the dashboard.
Finally, Lumpowski was out, and Bart scampered over the passenger seat into the back, where he sprawled out, exhausted and spent. “Shit…” Bart said.
Lumpowski sat back, his dick out, copious sweat beading on his forehead. “Goddamn… Hey, can I come see you again, man?”
Bart smiled. “Sure. Anytime. I’m not always around though. Text me first,” he said. “If I’m in the city, I’ll come running.”
Lumpowski nodded. He lay there in the passenger seat, dazed, while Bart cleaned himself up. Then Bart cleaned off Lumpowski’s cock, kissed him on the neck and climbed out of the car.
He hoped Lumpowski did call him, though Bart expected he might not be around. He traveled often, both to find new plus-sized ladies for his modeling agency and to go in search of his ultimate love: fat men.

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 now 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.”

Humiliated by a Scammer

Zion has no idea his family was targeted by a scammer who took everything they owned, and now it’s Zion’s turn to experience the ultimate in alpha male dominance! Can he submit to the superior man?

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Read the whole thing here!

“Look here, Zion, boy, I’m gonna be real upfront wit’cha,” said Uncle Nelson. Zion had trouble concentrating on his words because Uncle Nelson was so intimidating. He was tall, broad shouldered and thick-bodied. He had a dense bristly mustache. He had come over without Zion’s grandmother — who had married Uncle Nelson just a few months ago. He had never come to Zion’s apartment above the family restaurant without her. “I came into ya grandmama’s life wit’ an ulterior motive.”
“Where is she-?”
Nelson slapped him. “Don’t you interrupt me. I put her in a home.”
“What?” Zion’s heart sank. “Where? What?”
He slapped Zion hard. “Make me say it again, nigga! Make me say it again! Shut yo’ mouth!”
Despite his huge size, Uncle Nelson had always been incredibly kind until today. Zion was much smaller and weaker, so he had been scared from the moment his grandmom brought Nelson home from church one day. He was new to the area then, and he had fallen in love with her right away. Nelson was broad and muscular, so strong it looked painful, like he must struggle to carry around all those muscles.
“Now yo’ grandmama signed this whole building over to me,” Nelson said. He paused to see if Zion would interrupt him again, but he didn’t. Zion trembled in front of him. Nelson lightly slapped his cheek again. “Listen Zion boy, you know what liquidate means? Course you don’t, you a dummy. It means when you take somethin’ that ain’t worth much and you take it apart and you use all the parts some other way. Like when a store goin’ outta business, they liquidate it. You feel me, Zion boy?”
“Yeah, man, but where’s my dad-?”
“Yo’ daddy’s in jail, but I’m comin’ to that.” He smiled. “I ain’t a nice nigga, Zion boy. I know I been actin’ nice, but I ain’t nice at all. Yo’ family was not wise to trust me.” He undid his belt and let his pants plop heavily to the floor, then he took his dick out. Zion yelped in surprise — and fear, because it was more than a foot long, veiny and dark, and it smelled vaguely of sweat and pussyjuice — and he tried to stand up, but Nelson pushed him back down. “Lemme just be real frank wit’cha. Yo grandmama married me and signed e’rything over to me. So I own yo’ family’s house and yo’ family’s store and I even own yo’ car, nigga, which by the way, you may not use.”
“You can’t do that-!”
“Already done, nigga. Yo’ daddy’s in jail cuz I tol’ him I put yo’ sister out on the street as a ho if he ain’t sign this murder confession — there was a killin’ I had weighin’ me down, nigga. Not no more,” he said. He carefully folded his pants and put them on the table next to him. Then he picked up his dick as though to display it for Zion’s benefit. He held it in one hand, and Zion was unable to look away from it. It jiggled when Nelson spoke. “Now yo’ sister was a little old to start hoin’, but I’m gonna make it work. She can make me a pretty penny.”
“Wait, what?!”
“I am liquidatin’ yo’ family, nigga. Y’all is a bunch of rank-ass pussies, and I am takin’ ya out,” he said. He thwacked his limp dick over Zion’s face. “You might wanna start lickin”, befo’ I get real mad, Zion boy.”
“My dad is in jail? He-“
But Nelson’s cock pushed into Zion’s mouth, and Nelson chuckled as Zion gagged. His dick was limp and rubbery at first, tasting of salty sweat. Tears welled up in Zion’s eyes. That fat cock rested on his tongue, and when he tried to push it off, Nelson slapped his hands away. He didn’t do anything with his dick, it just rested there, like Zion’s mouth was its new natural home.
Then Nelson swayed, making his limp dick jiggle and jump around, roping over Zion’s face. It was so thick, much thicker than Zion’s, and it smelled like a locker room in a low-cost gym. Zion’s stomach churned.
His mind kept replaying the things Nelson had said. None of that made sense, what did he mean? Zion’s sister was not a prostitute. His father was not a murderer, none of this made sense. Why was Nelson acting like this? But Zion couldn’t formulate any words because he was entranced by the rod of throbbing hot dickfat smearing Nelson’s body odor over every inch of Zion’s face.
“Ah, yeah, this is the part I love,” Nelson said. “No teeth. No hands. No regrets.” He moaned without breaking eye contact with Zion, who felt a flush of embarrassment and looked away. Nelson dug his nails into Zion’s cheeks and forced his eyes back to Nelson’s. “Lookit me when I’s plowin’ you, boy. You mine now, nigga. You should thinka yo’self as a slave, even if the law ain’t allow slaves no more.”
“But, Uncle Nelson, I-“
He laughed, forcing his cock back into Zion’s throat. It was so huge that it didn’t feel real to Zion, who had never seen a cock so big. A few drops of precum hit his tongue, and the electrifyingly salty flavor made Zion gag.
“You still callin’ me uncle, boy? I ain’t yo’ family.” He wrapped his hands around the back of Zion’s head, and began to slowly grind his dick lower and lower in Zion’s throat. “I let you be a busboy in the restaurant. I ain’t gonna pay you a damn dime, but I let ya eat scraps and shit. You may not find any of the waitresses sexy.”
Having been in shock since this began, Zion hadn’t really fought back. But as his throat heaved and his lungs cried out for oxygen, he realized he could fight. He clawed at Nelson’s muscle-bound body and squirmed. His whole body tensed up, but Zion was skinny and lanky, not solid like Nelson.
“Ah, there it is, there you go,” Nelson said. He held tightly onto Zion’s head. “You fightin’ now, huh? That’s normal, that’ll pass. I’m gonna break you, boy. See it used to be that the rule of law weren’t so strong, and weak-kneed motherfuckers like you and yo’ whole family just get took up by some strong motherfucker like me, someone who can make sure you reach yo’ maximum potential. For you…” Nelson laughed, smearing tendrils of spit over Zion’s face as he watched him choke on his massive cock. “Yo’ maximum potential is a busboy who occasionally gets to eat my asshole. Yo’ whole family was garbage, Zion boy. Yo’ granddaddy was worth a damn, but he dead now. You’d have just run this company into the ground. I’m takin’ it.”
Zion squealed and tried to crawl away, but Nelson = punched him again. Pain erupted in Zion’s side, and he collapsed onto the floor. Zion rolled onto his back. Nelson slowly lowered his hefty, broad ass right on Zion’s face. His crack was choked with dark kinky black hairs, which scratched Zion’s skin.
“Lick it up, Zion boy, get ya tongue in there.” When Zion didn’t comply right away, Nelson punched him in the belly. Zion groaned. “Get yo’ tongue inside my asshole now, bitch.”
Zion still wanted to fight, but he was so weak and skinny. His body submitted even as his mind wanted to fight back. His tongue slipped into Nelson’s asshole. The taste of man-funk flooded his senses.
It was so rank, so foul, the flavor overwhelming all of Zion’s other senses. Utter humiliation wracked his body. Only an absolute fool would let another man do this, he thought.
Nelson loudly moaned. His ass-sweat trickled into Zion’s mouth, and Zion gagged so violently his stomach hurt. Nelson sat on his face, all of his weight pressing down on Zion’s head. He was big man, and it felt like Zion’s head was going to cave in. He couldn’t focus on anything but squirming beneath Nelson’s giant body.
“Move ya tongue around some more. How’s my ass taste, boy?”
“Please… stop-” Zion had to shout to be heard through the meat of Nelson’s ass. That made Nelson laugh and pound on Zion’s belly some more.
“Nah, this is yo’ life now, Zion boy, it’s already done. Get used to it.” Nelson rubbed his asshole over Zion’s face, leaving a layer of funk. Zion’s nose dug into his asscrack from top to bottom. “From now on, e’ry time I come into my restaurant, or up here — anytime you see me, basically — I want you to lick my asshole, okay?”
“No!”
Nelson stood up and punched Zion in the belly. Zion screamed and gagged as the rush of fresh air made the assy taste on his tongue even more rancid. He writhed, but Nelson made him stay on his back. “What’d I say? You my slave, bitch. You can leave any time, but I own ya ass. I own this building and I own ya car and I own ya job and I own e’rything here in this apartment. I got ya daddy in jail and ya grandmom in care and ya sister out hoin’. I can decide to drop any one of ’em loose anytime,” he said.
Through his tears, Zion grunted. “I can… do…-“
“You can leave, wit’ nothin’. I will take the shoes off ya feet. I just might break all the bones in yo’ feet too, just to make sure you nevuh work again. You will work for me, Zion, for the rest of your life. Or I will make your whole family’s life hell. Ya feel me?”
“Y…. Yes.”
“Good. Now say ‘I will lick yo’ asshole, Nelson’.”
A sob escaped from Zion’s lips. “I… I will lick ya asshole, Nelson.” Zion’s tears were squashed by Nelson plopping down on his face again.
This time, Zion had no choice but to lap at that funky hole as tears streamed down his cheeks. The filthy, gritty feeling was almost, but not quite, enough to make him forget his sobbing. Nelson guided Zion’s hands around his body to his cock. Zion’s tongue ran up his guys and tasted his sweat, while his hands stroked from the root to the tip of Nelson’s fat throbbing dick.
“Stroke me off, boy. That’s how you do a rimjob. Tongue in deeper. Tongue deeper, boy!” He punched Zion in the belly again, and when Zion cried out, he grabbed his tongue. He pulled it out until Zion squealed. “See this? You got a good five inches of tongue here, boy. I wanna feel all five inches in my ass, or I swear to Christ I will shove my foot up your ass, and I am not playin’, I can show you the evidence I did it before.”
He nearly lifted Zion from his knees by his tongue but instead lowered his ass to meet his face, so he reached underneath himself to shove Zion’s tongue into his asshole. He did it so forcefully his own finger penetrated his own ass at the same time, while Zion sobbed into the filthy asscrack of the superior man above him.
Zion tried to look away, but each time Nelson slapped him and forced him to look him in the eye. He was so intimidating that Zion couldn’t think of any plan besides squirming and begging whenever he could catch a breath. Nelson’s burly mustache shook as he sneered.
“You are one pitiful li’l bitch. You a sissy?” He raised his eyebrows and looked down at them.
“No! No, come on!”
“You should be
The fact that Nelson was not a thug made him scarier to Zion. He looked like a church deacon — he was, in fact, a church deacon — and he spoke like a Hollywood hero (or villain). He had a slightly stawk-heavy East Coast accent, sounding like he was from maybe Philadelphia or someplace like that. New Jersey, maybe. His words rang out like a prophecy in Zion’s ears.
Zion felt filthy and worthless. Zion sobbed in Nelson’s plump ass, while Nelson rubbed his hole over Zion’s tongue like a dog with infected anal glands. Every time Zion’s tongue stopped moving for even a second, Nelson hit him or pinched him hard until Zion resumed lapping at his grimy prostate.
Nelson let out a long, low whistle. His cock throbbed in Zion’s hands. “Hell yeah, there ya go. Fuck yeah. You got it. This is how you do a rimjob, Zion. All of ya tongue in there, hands on my dick… You gonna make me nut, boy, I swear… I was gonna wreck ya asshole today, but maybe I wait.”
A fluid hit Zion’s tongue. It was rancid and sour, and it tasted like farts, but Zion was pretty sure it was spit, cuz Nelson was spitting on his face, it seemed. Through his sobs and retches, Zion heard him calmly hocking up loogey after loogey. Zion squirmed, sobbing in pain and disgust. Nelson punched him in the belly over and over again.
“Keep ya tongue up in there, boy, and move it around some,” Nelson said. He groaned. “Yeah, nigga… Hell yeah…” His muscles all flexed at once, and a hot spray of cum shot over his flat belly. He shot a huge flow that seemed to go on for minutes, real honest-to-god minutes of continuous flow, coating his muscular chest in a sheen of jizz, which immediately ran down to his balls and his taint and then at last onto Zion’s tongue in his ass.
Zion was only barely aware of his own hands on Nelson’s dick. He didn’t really move them, he just held on, while Nelson ground his ass over Zion’s face, the movement making Zion give him a handjob as he licked his asshole. It must have felt good, the handjob or maybe the tongue, because Nelson let out a long simmering murmur that rattled the walls of Zion’s apartment.
A loud gag escaped from Zion’s throat, the sound swallowed by Nelson’s hefty body. Zion cringed as sticky fluids ran down his throat, coating his tongue. He thought for sure he’d never make that taste go away.
“Yeah, nigga… Ah shit, I am gonna like keepin’ you ’round as a rimjob-bitch. Get used to this,” he said with another whistle. He rubbed his butt over Zion’s face, sending fresh new waves of disgusting flavor onto Zion’s tongue. “Keep ya tongue out, boy.”
He grabbed Zion’s tongue as he lifted himself up. Zion yelped because Nelson really squeezed on his tongue with his fingers. Then Nelson kneeled next to Zion, put his nose right in front of Zion’s tongue and inhaled deeply.
“You smell like pure submission, bitch.” He hocked up another big loogie and spat it onto Zion’s tongue. It was grimy and sour, and Zion squirmed all over again. Drool spilled out of his mouth as he gagged over and over. Nelson had a disgusted sneer on his face, holding Zion by the tongue. He spat again and again.
Then he pointed to the cum he had sprayed over his own chest and flat stomach. It looked like a huge load, great puddles of it that ran in rivulets down his chest. It was so thick, like sour cream, it made Zion’s own jizz seem watery and pitiful. He had spurted a huge load, and a few drops continued plopping out one by one into Nelson’s crotch hair. “Lick my cum off me. I’m gonna make ya tongue so nasty you wanna cut it off.” He licked his lips, as he pulled Zion’s face over the puddles of jizz that coated his pectoral muscles.
Keeping a grip on Zion’s tongue while he rubbed it over his chest was difficult and awkward for Nelson because he was so much bigger than Zion. He had to scrunch in to make it work. But he didn’t let Zion control his own tongue — despite telling him to lick, Nelson didn’t allow it, he instead used Zion’s tongue like a rag to clean the cum off his chest.
The salty bitterness of cum cut through Zion’s pain and humiliation, making him sob all over again. Licking his chest reminded Zion how much stronger Nelson was than him. He felt like a warm marble statue. Zion didn’t want to caress his shoulder muscles like a girl being seduced, but his hands flailed and that’s what they did, embarrassing him even further.
“Now sit there. Look me in the eye.” Nelson pointed to a spot on the floor. “Don’t get up, don’t wipe your face off. You may swallow the nastiness on your tongue. If you spit, I will beat you. I wanna watch you swallow that. I wanna see it go down yo’ throat, cuz that’ll be you agreein’ to be my rimjob-bitch-slave. That’s yo’ willing agreement.” He held onto Zion’s throat with one of his massive hands.
Zion didn’t want to swallow. Every part of him rebelled against the concept.
But he knew Nelson wasn’t kidding about beating him if he spit, so he tried to hold the soup of filth in his mouth. Its creamy thickness sloshed around, viscous, and he imagined he could feel Nelson’s sperms swimming around on his gums and his tongue. That was ridiculous, right? You can’t feel sperm.
But it sure seemed like he could. He sobbed, and he felt the tears running down his cheeks. He felt that for sure. Just like he felt the sperm swimming, looking for something to impregnate on his tongue.
A moist sniffle came outta his nose, and Nelson looked down him like a pititful pile of dogshit. Zion wanted to come up with a plan, to gin up the courage to attack Nelson, or at least to call the police when he left. None of those options sounded optionable though. Nelson was a gangster, that was clear now, and looking back on it, maybe Zion should have always known that was true. It did seem weird that a man like that would marry his grandmother.
But old people were weird, Zion couldn’t understand why they did what they did.
And now it was too late anyway. He couldn’t go to the police, Nelson would punish him. All he could do was submit. He couldn’t avoid his instinct to swallow though, and he gagged violently as it went down his throat. He imagined he could feel Nelson’s sperm swimming in his belly.
Nelson spat on him again. “Don’t move from that spot. Don’t wipe ya face off, not until I walk out the door.”
He began to very slowly get dressed. His slacks were wrinkleless, perfectly flat — ironed, obviously — because he had folded them when he took them off. His shoes were fine leather too. Halfway through, as he pulled up his pants, he stopped, turned around and farted right in front of Zion’s face. The stench of spit-flavored fart hit Zion’s nostrils and he gagged. He wept continuously.
“If you do what I say, Zion boy, everything’ll be fine.” He went into Zion’s kitchen. “You got enough food in here to last a couple weeks. You tell me when you run out, I’ll give you more.”
Zion cried, sitting there. Nelson didn’t let him move yet, so he had to sit there with a mask of cum, spit and assjuice on his face. Nelson took some stuff out of his kitchen and placed it by the door. It was all the nice things, the meat from the freezer, a fancy bottle of olive oil, that kind of thing, plus a stack of fine china. He carefully arranged it all in a pile he could carry in one hand.
“I’m takin’ some of ya shit. You ain’t worth none of this, boy. Don’t worry, I ain’t gonna let ya starve to death. You know how to cook beans, right?”
“Yeah.” Zion croaked. He gurgled and gagged all over again. Nelson chuckled.
“Good. Beans is cheap, I gonna give you mostly beans and rice.” Nelson walked past where Zion sat. He undid his belt, plopped his plump asscheeks in front of Zion again and farted on his face. He wrinkled his nose. “You is one worthless piece of shit, man, you know that?”
“Yes.” Zion’s voice had never felt so weak and wavery. He felt nothing but submission towards this man, who’d ruined his life and even despite that, Zion was going to do everything he said. He was like a God to Zion.
“Did you like eatin’ my ass?” He paused, then, just as Zion was about to answer, he snapped, “Say yes, bitch, or I’ll throw you out the window.”
Zion hesitated. “Yes.” When Nelson motioned for him to stretch that out, he winced and moaned. Nelson slapped him. Zion cringed. “I… I enjoyed eating your ass.”
Nelson’s phone rang. He looked at it, and his mustache wriggled. “It’s one of my bitches.” He answered it. “Hey, baby. Yeah. I be ovuh later. Uh-huh. Yeah cook me up somethin’. That sounds good. I’s just doin’ a little work.” He chuckled. He glanced at Zion. “Ain’t that kinda work. You ain’t gotta lick my doodoo-hole tonight though, baby, on ‘ccount of what I’s doin’ at work.” He laughed. “Nah, it ain’t a girl. This nigga displeased me. Nah, don’t worry, my princess, you ain’t gotta be jealous. Oh yeah? Oh shit… Alright, alright.” He looked at Zion. “Go sit in the bathtub, nigga.”
Zion retched as he got up, but Nelson kicked him in the belly.
“Crawl! When you in fronta me, bitch, you crawl!” Nelson chuckled into the phone. “Yeah, he my slave. Yeah, sure. He come clean ya house e’ry weekend.” He licked his lips. “Damn, baby, you got a evil side. I like that.” He knocked Zion over with his foot, then kicked him in the belly until Zion gasped and cried out. He heard a cruel female voice laughing through the phone. “Get in there, bitch!”
Nelson allowed him to crawl on his hands and knees into the bathroom. Zion was too exhausted and scared to fight back, or even to think about what was going on.
“Yeah, baby. You can do whatever you want to him. I’m-a do it now, I gotta put the video on.” He started recording. He took his dick out through the fly of his pants. “Open up ya mouth, boy, and start singing ‘I’m a Little Teapot’.”
The girl laughed hysterically as Zion tried to sing through his tears, and the sound of her guffaws carried tinnily from the phone in Nelson’s hand. The melody of the song was interrupted by hot, bitter piss flowing over his face, so it ended up just being the sound of him choking to the tune of the woman’s laughter. Zion sobbed and gagged, his stomach twisting in knots when urine streamed down his throat.
He pissed so much there was a little puddle around Zion’s bare ass on the floor of the bathtub. He cried and cried as Nelson put his dick away.
“Uncle Nelson… Please-“
“You still callin’ me uncle?” Nelson gathered up everything else in the apartment that he wanted — or that he judged to be too nice for a slave to have. He got it all up in a couple boxes, which he carted out to his Mercedes one by one. Before he left, Nelson stood over Zion and glared down at him. That mask of filth was still on his face, and Zion trembled, unable to think about anything but his desperate desire to be free of it.
Without another word, Nelson pursed his lips, hocked up a massive loogey and spat it out onto Zion’s face. It splatted and covered him in stinking saliva from his forehead to his nose, and it coated his eyes too, so it was in everything he saw.
Then, at last, Nelson turned around and walked out the door. Zion was relieved to be able to clean his face off and cry, alone.