friendship – Mansploitation

The White Trash Veteran: Chapter 7

The White Trash Veteran

Goose robbed a grocery store in Wheeling at the tail end of 1983, went off smooth as a cat in a puddle of butter. Nobody said nothing about it when he got back to Martinsburg. He ain’t even spend none the cash yet. He was too focused on Buck, who be shooting up like a sunflower. Lil Buck and his buddy Cody was spending they days exploring the woods, wrassling, getting into shit.
It made Goose wish he was a boy again. Li’l boys like Buck crave the sombriety of adulthood, but soon as they grow up, they only wish was being young again. Goose admired watching Buck and Cody tussle.
That ain’t last long though. The cops showed up to Smashwood one day soon after he returned for his visit, clapped him up and brung him to the clink. Goose ended up pleading guilty so he could claim the money burnt up in a fire. Detectives ain’t believe him, but the judge did. Store got they insurance company to reimburse ’em, so ain’t nobody looking for the cash.
When Goose got outta prison, he’d be able to spend some tender at last. No more cheapy-deeping for this hillbilly! He gonna give mosta it over to Missus Dowdy anyway — that was who Buck was staying with right now. He called her Grammaw Daisy.
Prison turnt out to be not too bad. Food was awful, but leastways there was enough, and the guards let the Army vets all share a cell block.
And holy hokey-pokey, Harley was there!
His old Army buddy Harley was arrested a couple months back and was in the West Virginia Pen for a spell — he was arrested in Huntington, and he weren’t from West Virginia, so he don’t know he’s sposedta be humiliated by that. It felt good as gravy to be with Harley once more. It felt like the army again, but in a good way. Not a Vietnamey in sight.
That’s what Masterson and Berringer was saying, Goose now reckoned. They said to seek brotherhood, and here he was, surrounded by brothers. Dog tag brothers steada womb brothers. They done gone through the same trials and tripplations, and they done survive ’em. Goose was sadly glad to learn ain’t none of ’em — Harley included — make the transition to civilian life. All of ’em was struggling, and though they ain’t much talk about it, them’all got feelings in concert, difficulties in a row, memories sharing silhouettes against the same firelight.
“And I ain’t nevuh menace that man, nuh-huh!” Harley done explain the situation that got him locked up bunchesa times, and he maintained his innocence in the whole affair.
Or at least his innocence as to the menacing charges that got him locked up for a year. He pled guilty to those in exchange for more serious charges getting dropped. He ain’t dispute those more serious charges.
“Cops is fucked, man,” Goose said with a sigh. He was tired of agreeing with Harley on this matter.
Bucket hooch be bubbling away in one corner of the cell, which was filled with the yeasty aroma of drunken futures. Goose got three buckets working off right now, taking up halfa the cell. The guards let ’em get away with it — just this cell block, fulla veterans — and Goose was gonna make a pretty penny selling it soon.
Not ready yet though.
“Cuz I admit — I does admit, I was there, I was waving a gun around. Wouldn’t use it on a lady, mind you, I don’t shoot ladies,” Harley said, tapping his feet in sync with the melody of the calypso song they was listening to — they done bought some cassettes from a Jamaican on another cell block. It reminded them both, Harley and Goose, of boot camp, before anything happened. Neither them two acknowledged that. Neither one done spoke word one of boot camp, Army or Vietnam yet. T’was nice to be with a man who savvied without you savvying him. It was a happy calypso, but they both frowned through it, cuz it reminded them of the unspokeable river that will have done been flowing underneath and of Lucent, who shot hisself last year. Harley be puffing on his cigarette, leaning against the cell bars like he might could see something interesting out there.
Ain’t nothing interesting out there. That’s the whole point of prison. That’s the best parta it from a Asian perspective: prison can be torture or meditation, depending on how you hope to experience it. Goose chose torture at the time, as most people do most always. Enlightenment is the option that’s always at hand but is hard as torture to choose.
Harley was a burly sumbitch, with a rusty mustache that extended down to his beard hairs. He was a ruddynut whombody from Pennsylvania. That means he got red hair, but it’s the darkest possible shade of red with the swarthiest skin color that comes with red hair. He was like a ginger who been baked to crispy brown.
He used the cherry at the end of his smoke to light his next smoke. Harley be doing that. He worked as a mechanic before his arrest and after in the prison automotive shed, so he drew upon a good wage for a convict. He was swimming in cigarettes.
Goose stockpiled his. He waited till he genuinely needed a cigarette before smoking one. He coulda bummed some off Harley. But Harley’d want something in return, likeishly a buncha free pulls on the bucket hooch when it was ready.
But now, as the cell block started to quiet down in advance of lights out, Goose let hisself burn one. He savored the warmly blissful sensation of smoke filling his lungs, filling his veins with calm, filling his mind with sultry relaxation. It made him both alert and sleepy, like a blowjob from a ugly librarian.
He ain’t chain-smoke, so as he could anticipate his next ciggie. In prison, a feller has gotto find things to look forward to, or so did Goose think at the time. Nowadays he do advise a feller to abandon attachments and all that jazz. Pecan, Monongahela, ocean, done. Most fellers in prison got alotta attachments keeping ’em on the riverbank.
“That colored boy is comin’ ’round again,” Harley said with a guilty chuckle. He looked at Goose. “You gunna do it again?”
Goose shook his head. “Go fer it, man,” he said. He took another drag on his cigarette. He assumed ‘the colored boy’ meant this big-ass feller named Wimpy, who be coming round for to sell these larrupin’ apple pies he made in the kitchen. They was like turnovers, and they was tasty as a Vietnamey pussy, swan to God. Goose be eating them up! Last time Wimpy came by, Goose bought one pie with the ciggies he had on him, then two more he paid for with future hooch — first batch to be done, he gotsta give up cupfuls to Wimpy.
He don’t like the idea of being in hock to any man. Not just a colored man neither, any man. So Goose done say he weren’t doing that again.
But damn doodle, them pies was calling to him!
It turned out not to be Wimpy after all, it was a different colored boy. His name was Jugs, and his special skill was that he got lipstick.
He was dark-skinned like charcoal with big white eyes and teeth. He was slim but well-muscled — prolly bigger on the outside, but he been locked up for awhile, and he was owned by this tub of brown Darren who be swiping his food-meals. Darren do make Jugs go on all around and jerk men off for cash. Jugs don’t get to keep none of it neither.
That’s called ‘punking’. It prolly mean Jugs do heroin, and Darren won’t give him none unless he earns his keep. Since Jugs was broke as smoke, he got no way of gathering tender ‘cept by jerking fellers off. He use his mouth too. Narsty!
“Jerk ya off? Jerk ya off?” Jugs strolled among the cells, making offers. He sounded like he was on the verge of tears. Goose never did see him cry, but he stayed sounding like he was holding back a sob. Maybe that was his normal voice. Goose looked down on that. A man’s gotta keep his nose up, no matter what. Women cry and go limp when they get in a bad situation. A man’s gotta take action. Can’t take action when you’s bothered up hot, bawling like a waterfall.
Somebody musta said yes finally, cuz Jugs couldn’t be heared no more. Some titters of laughter over by Hash and Tingle and them suggested it was one those fellers who done it, prolly Hash, cuz he was like that. Cells was locked, but a feller could stick his dingus ‘tween the cell bars, and Jugs could slurpy-durp no problem that way. He puts a towel over his head, so you ain’t gotta look at him. Used to charge a half-packa smokes more to put a picture of Farrah Fawcett atop the towel, but Warden conscifated the fuck outta that. Gotta respect a lady.
“You should do it,” Harley said with a chuckle. He got out a pack of smokes, ready to do it the moment Jugs came by.
Goose sighed and shrugged. He did kinda wanna blow a nut. But the reason Harley hope him to do it and the reason Goose was reluctant was the same — Goose got a giant cock. That was how that he got his name, after all. It was like a goose’s neck.
But Jugs was little and got a shallow throat, and he don’t even try to swallop deep. Darren don’t care about customer complaints. T’was barely worth it to Goose. His own hand go as far up and down as he want it to. All thirteen inches. Goose done had enough of shallow head.
“C’mon, I wanna see you cover his face again,” Harley said with a cackle and a laugh. He mimed Jugs’s gagging last time when Goose shot his massive wad all over his face — all over his face and not down his throat cuz Jugs don’t swallow worth a goose turd. That made it funny for Harley to watch but disappointing for Goose to pay for. Last time Goose ain’t cum since before he got to the pen, so he had loads built up. He shot so much Jugs was sopping wet, huge wads of it overflowing his mouth, soaking his shirt and making his brown skin gleam white, knappy hair dripping with it. Jugs did retch as Harley guffawed and slapped his knee. Then Jugs scurried away.
It was funny, Goose hadta admit that. But it ain’t feel especially good, and Goose had swollen balls then. That was only a week ago. He ain’t build up that much this time.
“You go’an drown that boy,” Harley said, already laughing as hard as he did last time. Ain’t nothing even happen yet.
Jugs musta done wipe his face offa Hash’s nutjuice but miss a spot, cuz there was some goopy circles of jiss on his forehead and dripping off his earlobe. That made Harley cackle again. He got a hyena-like laugh that irked Goose, though it was infectious, and it made Goose smile along with him, reminding Goose of worse times but in a good way.
“Jerk ya off?” Jugs said. He was hurrying past, no doubt hoping nobody’d say yes.
“Heck yeah, get on ya knees, boy!” Harley clapped and cackled again. He opened up his pack of smokes and put one cigarette behind his ear, then tossed the pack to Jugs — Jugs was required to accept that as payment of a pack of smokes. It was one cigarette short, which made Jugs a better deal than mosta the other punks in this prison. The resta them charged a full pack.
Harley got his britches down and his dick dangling through the cell bars before Jugs even smeared the lipstick on his lips. When he did, he smacked them cherry-red lips together. He picked up Harley’s dick with two fingers and put it in his mouth. He held back a gag as he went down to the root, smearing lipstick along the shaft all the way into Harley’s light burgundy crotch hair.
A sigh escaped from Harley’s lips as Jugs put the towel up over his face. He started off without the towel so the fellers watching could see the lipstick. Was sposedta make it feel more like a woman.
Goose was dubious about that. He finished his cigarette and snubbed it out. He then got up and checked on his hooch, drained his bladder into the toilet and sat back down. He wanna do his workout, but the buckets of hooch took up half the cell and Harley’s bare ass dimpling as he humped the cell bars took up mucha the rest.
Harley ain’t got a huge dick. It weren’t nothing to be ashamed of, it wasn’t small, but it was small enough to be easy for Jugs to swallow it. Even with the cell bars separating him from Harley’s reddish-furred crotch, Jugs got that whole cock in his mouth. His nose was buried in Harley’s pubes.
Every couple seconds Jugs’s whole body undulated, but he held back his gags. He choked up spit that dripped onto the cell bars. A long low moan escaped from Harley, who turned the sound into a laugh, followed by a gut-hurtingly loud retch from Jugs.
“Uhnnk…” Both Jugs and Harley made similar sounds.
First couple bursts of jizz went straight into Jugs’s throat. Jugs squealed moistly and squirmed, pulling off Harley’s pecker in time for one final cumwad to jet onto his face. Harley’s hands pulled through the cell bars in an attempt to get Jugs back on his dick, but he couldn’t reach.
“Ewwck-“
“C’mon, punk, finish it off!” Harley groaned and grunted, his hips still flexing as if to fuck the cell bars themselves. He finished himself off with one hand though, draining the last of his juices onto the floor outside the cell.
Holding back a peal of gags, Jugs wiped his face off with that towel. He paused, clutching his stomach as though to force all that nastiness to stay down.
When he had recovered, Jugs looked at Goose. “Hey, you’re the one they call Goose, right?”
Goose nodded.
“Well, uh… my man, Darren — my husband-” Jugs winced as he said that. “He said, uh… He said you can have a free ride on my ass, if you promise to give up a cupful of hooch when it’s ready.”
“Ah, sheeit, boy, you gettin’ booty!” Harley said. He grabbed for Goose’s crotch to pull his denim prison trouser-pants down, but Goose slapped his hand away.
“Ass? I dunno… Tha’ss dui’ty.” Goose ain’t want a reputation as a booty bandit. He ran his fingers through his hair, but he sighed.
“Ain’t ya big ol’ dick still work?” Harley asked.
Goose said, “Yeah, shuddup, Harley.” A sigh drug its way outta his chest. “But you best take the whole thang, Jugs.” He stood up. “You got lard, right?”
Jugs nodded with a sick frown on his face. He pulled out a little metal tin, half-fulla lard from the kitchen. “I don’t have much, I don’t — just go slow, okay?” Black boys in prison foreverlasting got lard. Ain’t no better lube in the world.
Goose snorted. He stood up and dropped his denims. When Jugs sawn Goose’s cock, he looked even sicker, he musta done forgot how big it was. Well over a foot long and thicker than a can of beer, it unfurled between Goose’s legs and swung back and forth.
Frown lingering on his face, Jugs kneeled with his back to the cell bars, ass pressed against ’em. He let the steel bars pull his cheeks apart. Harley cackled up Jugs’s butthole and smacked each cheek the best he could by reaching between the cell bars. Harley later on claimed Jugs got jisms dripping out his ass, but he was funning, Jugs got dark skin and cum would be visible if it was there. It weren’t. It was just a funnier story to tell if he got a dripsy butthole.
“Nah,” Goose said. “Stand up. Mah knees get sore kneeling.” Plus Goose was much taller than Jugs, so it’d be awkward to plow into his ass kneeling. And through the cell bars? Not easy.
“Oh, c’mon, man, c’mon, it hurts like that,” Jugs said.
Goose shrugged. “No complainin’, or I’s allowed to tell Darren you wasn’t cooperating.”
“No, don’t! I am! I’m doing it!” Jugs said amid a storm of wincing and cringing. “Don’t tell him that.”
“Then don’t fight me, punk. I’ll be quick,” Goose said. He wondered when he had done agreed to this. He ain’t never say yes, but Harley and Jugs both assumed he would, and Goose ain’t wanna back out now. They’d accuse him of having a donkeydoodle that don’t work right.
Jugs stood up, his underpants pulled down to bare his taut asscheeks. He stood with them separated by the cell bars, revealing his tight brown hole, no dribbles of nut. Jugs bent over, keeping his knees straight and pushing his ass up as high as he could. It looked much too small to take all of Goose’s dick.
But Goose done acquire plentya experience forcing his pecker into a man’s behind. They was surprisingly accommodatious, and you know a black punk done took plentya giant black-boy peckers. Goose bent his knees a little to lower it enough to aim for Jugs’s hole.
He got the tip in easy enough, the lard helping it slide right in. But then he hit resistance, and Jugs seethed through his teeth.
“Ow, wait, wait-“
“Okay, okay, just spread it open,” Goose said. He weren’t waiting though. He kept pushing, forcing Jugs’s ass to open wider and wider. Jugs’s hands fluttered behind his back as if he could do something that way, but that made it hard to remain bent over on all fours. His face plopped onto the floor.
“Owwwww!” Jugs cried out and slipped away from the cell bars. “Ow, shit!”
“Hey! Punk-ass, mothahfuckah, get ya black ass back on mah dick,” Goose said. “Or I’s tellin’ Darren-“
“Okay, okay, honky, shit,” Jugs muttered. With a weary groan, he got back in position. He squatted like to force out a troublesome turd, and he again backed his ass up to the cell bars.
When Jugs came in one of slipping off again, Harley saved the day by grabbing Goose’s sweat-soaked tee shirt from the basket of dirty clothes. He lassooed it around Jugs’s head through the cell bars, holding it tight in one hand so Jugs couldn’t complain or move his head.
That forced Jugs to stay in position, even as Goose forced his fist-thick dick into Jugs’s tender tight ass. Jugs seethed through the sweaty tee shirt in his mouth, making a series of rhythmic grunts with each thrust of Goose’s cock into him.
“He’uh I go, boy, he’uh I go, c’mon…” Goose’s voice broke as pleasure hit him hard. The one bad side of a big dick was that it took a lot of effort to get hard and a lot to go over the edge.
Finally Goose stepped over that edge, and a fat wad jetted into Jugs’s asshole. Jugs winced. Goose pumped his hips hard, his heart beating fast now, chest sweating. A grand sigh escaped from his lungs.
More cum spurted into his guts, and Goose let out a long low sigh as an orgasm overwhelmed him. “Aww, sheeit, Jugs…” That felt good, Goose thought, damn good.
Finally his dick popped out, followed by a torrent of jiss that stained Jugs’s ass white. Goose ain’t realize he was still cumming, so he grabbed his cock and stroked his last few spurts of jizz out with both hands. It coated Jugs’s left asscheek in ropes of cream.
Harley cackled and lit yet another cigarette. “Shit, that was hilarious,” he said.
Goose chuckled as he wiped his dick clean with toilet paper. He nodded sheepishly. “That did feel good,” he thunk. But now he owed three whole cupfuls of bucket hooch, and he ain’t even finish making one batch yet. Bucket hooch is temporary as rain, apple pies is fleeting like a waterfall, and orgasms last only a moment. Goose’s hillbilly ass be fording a river fulla them things, when he needta be flowing down ’em. He knew all that, cuz prison was nothing but studyment, but he ain’t yet have a sense of vairagya, ain’t even have the word. He thought the other bank of the river was too far away to reach, but in fact, t’was the distant ocean that was right at hand. Goose kept across the stream disregardless.

The Scarred Bouncer: Chapter Eleven

The Scarred Bouncer

Chapter One: An Affectionate Touch

Chapter Two: The Liminal Space

Chapter Three: A Glorious Face

Chapter Four: An Unexpected Connection

Chapter Five: A Deserved Choke

Chapter Six: A Good Friend

Chapter Seven: A Present of Sorts

Chapter Eight: That Sweet Release

Chapter Nine: A Plan for Repayment

Chapter Ten: An Unpleasant Chore

Chapter Eleven: A Sweet Release

Knuckle had offered Teddy a free fuck of any of the Gray Snakes’ prostitutes. Knuckle was allowed a free fuck because that was a perk of doing time on the Gray Snakes behalf (the bare-knuckle bout he was arrested for was put on by the Gray Snakes). Knuckle was willing to give the lay up to Teddy. But Teddy refused.
He was just glad Knuckle had made it out of prison in one piece.
So after Knuckle got his free fuck from a bad-ass biker prostitute, he came by Teddy’s place. He was going to stay there for a few days, since that’s where his belongings were anyway, until he rented a place of his own.
“When I get drunk,” Knuckle said as soon as Teddy shut the door behind him. “You can do whatever you want to me. Ramrod my butt if you want. Your dick ain’t big enough to hurt. I’ll get drunk enough to pass out cold. I ain’t been able to get very drunk in prison.” He undressed, as Teddy made them both a drink.
“Really?” Teddy handed Knuckle a drink, then started sipping his own.
But Knuckle took the drink, chugged the whole thing, then grabbed the bottle and chugged from that. “I just wanna get drunk,” he said when he was done, rum spilling past his lips and wetting his shirt. “You sure you don’t wanna fuck a slut? I can get a Gray Snakes bitch like that.” He snapped his fingers. “She gonna be as butch as a baseball bat, not like one of Mistuh Gregarian’s ladies. She be a biker bitch, likely.” He chugged again from the rum.
“No, no, I don’t, uh, I’m sure she’d be very… No thanks,” Teddy said. “I’m saving myself for marriage.” Knuckle cradled his belly like he was gonna be sick, but he took another swig from the bottle anyway. Teddy said, “Don’t rush yourself, you’ve got all night. I’m sure your tolerance has gone down.”
Knuckle nodded, but he already looked blitzed. He leaned back on the couch.
Teddy unzipped his jeans and pulled Knuckle’s dick out. He’d fucked a ho a few hours ago, so it still smelled rancid of old pussy, plus Knuckle hadn’t showered in days, so his ball-stench was intense. Teddy put the tip in his mouth.
“I ain’t shuh….” Knuckle mumbled, trying to take his dick away. He wanted to explain to Teddy that his dick had been in his bitch’s asshole a couple times since his last shower, but he was incomprehensible, and Teddy didn’t care anyway.

He gobbled down Knuckle’s dick. It took awhile to get hard since he had cum this morning — in Lance’s asshole — and then again in a biker bitch’s pussy a few hours ago, plus Knuckle was drunk enough that his dick flopped around in Teddy’s mouth for a few minutes. Teddy didn’t mind a bit. He enjoyed playing with a limp dick and savoring its funky, sweaty taste.

Finally Knuckle’s manhood firmed up, and it leaked precum into his mouth. Teddy smacked it upon his face. He thought Knuckle was passed out already, but when he looked up, Knuckle was bleary-eyed looking at him. He had a faint smile on his flat face.
“Hmmmm… Shigggarette…” Knuckle murmured. He lit a smoke. It cleared his mind a little, so he could talk. “I had a fine-ash bitsh in prissshon, Teddy.” He chuckled. “You’d-a liked him. Till me and Buck wreckt him.” He sighed and exhaled a long plume of smoke.
“Really? A real prison bitch?” Teddy asked with a guilty grin. “So you, like, made him turn tricks?”
Knuckle nodded. He opened up the duffel bag he had brought. He had to lean over to pick it up, which he managed to do without letting his cock pop out of Teddy’s mouth again. He withdrew a thick stack of cash. He dropped it at Teddy’s feet. “Here. That’s what we made off him.”
Teddy looked up at him. “What? You’re giving it to me. All this?”
With just a little nod, Knuckle slipped his dick back into Teddy’s mouth. Teddy tried to say something else, but Knuckle held his head in place. Knuckle shrugged. “It’s less than it looks. It’s all small bills.”
Teddy tried to say that it was too much, that Knuckle didn’t need to do that for him. But Knuckle was gently humping his throat still, and the taste of precum was strong, so all Teddy could do was swallow and savor it.
The wad of cash turned out to be seven hundred dollars. Knuckle and Buck had split fourteen hundred dollars — not just from pimping out Lance. It also came from smuggling in porn, brewing bucket hooch and extorting protection fees from newmeat, plus they sold Lance to the Crips on their last morning. He was pretty well used-up by then, his asshole so slack he couldn’t walk straight, but the Crips didn’t mind crowding into a ruint butthole.
Teddy was still recounting the cash to be sure he got the correct total, because it was hard to count with Knuckle’s cock spilling precum into his mouth. But then all of a sudden, Knuckle spewed a thick jizzwad into Teddy’s mouth, and he moaned sleepily.
It was a shock, so Teddy choked and spat most of it out. He dropped the cash mid-count and resumed stroking Knuckle through his orgasm. Knuckle’s muscles all flexed as he filled Teddy’s belly with creamy seed. Knuckle groaned again, but his eyes were closed.
“Hmmm… Your cum tastes good,” Teddy said softly, checking whether Knuckle was awake.
Even as a few more drops of jizz spilled into Teddy’s mouth, Knuckle began snoring. Teddy licked up every bit of cum he could find.
Then Teddy stood and kissed Knuckle on the lips. He didn’t respond. Teddy kissed him again, his tongue pushing into Knuckle’s mouth. “You okay, buddy?”
Knuckle nodded, but then laid down on his side on the couch. He tottered drunkenly and nearly fell off the coach, then climbed down to the floor. He lifted his head when Teddy got him a pillow. Knuckle laid there stark-naked on his back. Soon he was snoring, as Teddy re-counted the cash more carefully and played with Knuckle’s limp wang.
Finally, Teddy got on his knees and touched Knuckle’s cheek with his dick. “Knuckle? You awake?” He slipped his cocktip into Knuckle’s mouth. It was wet and warm, and Teddy moaned. He instantly roared to full erection.
Teddy’s fingers massaged Knuckle’s cheeks and throat, working him loose. Knuckle kept snoring when Teddy’s dick didn’t go too deep in his throat, but when Teddy really got it in there, Knuckle’s snore turned into a choking sound. Each one made his throat clench around Teddy’s dick and was followed by a big ball of spit leaking from his mouth.
“Sorry, you okay?” Teddy said a couple times, but Knuckle was sound asleep. “You okay, Knuckle?”
Knuckle’s pecs gleamed with his spit and Teddy’s precum, and thick tendrils of those fluids connected Teddy’s twinky little body to Knuckle’s scarred face. After a few more chokes, Knuckle’s neck relaxed.
That meant Teddy could get his whole dick in, until his balls rested on Knuckle’s chin. Knuckle’s square jaw worked up and down a little as though trying to snore, but all that came out was a moist gurgling sound. The movement resulted in his tongue caressing Teddy’s shaft.
“Oh god, fuck yeah, oh god, thanks, Knuckle…” Teddy moaned, leaning on Knuckle’s massive head as he pumped a load down his unconscious throat.
Teddy filled Knuckle’s gullet with his jizz, and then all at once, Knuckle’s muscles tensed, and he vomited up Teddy’s dick. “Oh sorry,” Teddy hastened to say as he pulled off. Knuckle blank, bleary eyes were wide open.
But Knuckle just covered his mouth with one hand, retched and tottered drunkenly to the bathroom. It wasn’t far away, and the door was open. He vomited right into the toilet.
“Sorry, Knuckle. Sorry!” Teddy said a couple times in between heaves.
“Nuh-urry ‘out it…” Knuckle murmured as he leaned over the toilet bowl. “That wasssh the boooze.”
“Really?”
Knuckle nodded. He slumped over, unconscious again. His naked body wrapped around the commode.
But this time, his muscular asshole was accessible. He was crouched at first, leaning on the toilet bowl. Teddy sat down behind him and massaged his back.
“You done throwing up, buddy?” Teddy asked. But Knuckle didn’t respond. So Teddy pushed his limp dick into Knuckle’s asshole. He had cum just minutes ago, so he was still totally soft. But Knuckle’s butt was warm and inviting, and in his crouched position, it was easily accessible and stretched open.
So as Teddy groped Knuckle’s unconscious muscles, he got hard again and instantly slipped it in. Knuckle let out a little grunt when Teddy got in.
He wasn’t intact, Teddy noticed. He didn’t feel much resistance. He moaned into the meat of Knuckle’s back as his dick slipped right in.
His butt clenched tightly around his dick, while Teddy worked his dick up and down. Intense pleasure overwhelmed him, and his gentleness gradually diminished as Knuckle didn’t respond, aside from some instinctual flinching at first.
With a load moan, Teddy shot a massive wad deep into him. Though he had already cum not long ago, Teddy still managed to fill Knuckle up. Since Knuckle was crouched and slumped over the toilet, all Teddy’s jizz immediately spilled out onto Teddy’s crotch and the floor between Knuckle’s feet.
Knuckle’s muscles were soft, relaxed as could be, though his body jerked every few seconds with Teddy’s dick in his butt. Teddy lightly massaged his shoulders.
“Thanks, Knuckle,” Teddy said. He didn’t pull his dick out. He just wanted to let it marinate in there a little while. He let it soften in Knuckle’s body, as Teddy leaned against his face against Knuckle’s back and groped Knuckle’s firm, scarred shoulders. “I’m glad we’re friends.”