fronting – Page 2 – Mansploitation

The Gangbanger

Rico is temporarily homeless, but luckily his gang gives him a place to stay… but he’s got a roommate. His name is Thumper, and he’s an old head, an ex-con and a booty bandit to boot! Can Rico satisfy his new roommate’s unbridled desires?!

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Read the whole thing here!

Rico walked into the Cityside Barbershop. Heart thumping, he carried with him virtually all of his belongings in a trash bag. He hoped nobody who saw him knew that. He tried to look cocky. The people in the barbershop — barbers and customers — looked at him like they knew what was up, like they could tell at a glance what he was: homeless.
He tried not to think of himself as homeless, even though he knew that’s precisely what he was.
He had money. Not quite enough to rent a nice place, but he might have been able to get a cheap room somewhere. The downside to that was that he wouldn’t be able to afford to save up enough to afford somewhere nicer. His stepdad kicking him out without warning had really put a damper on things.
The last couple months had been rough for Rico. After losing two ounces of heroin, he was in trouble with his boss in the Bloods, Thumper. Then his girlfriend dumped him, and now his stepfather had kicked him out as punishment for selling drugs. Everything was going wrong in Rico’s life. Six months ago he was the most respected gangbanger in the Bloods. Today, he was a hobo, considering whether he could squat above a barbershop for free. What time does a barbershop open in the morning? Probably early.
Avoiding eye contact, Rico went into the backroom. He had a feeling the customers and barbers at the Barbershop knew why he was carrying a trash bag into the back. He also knew that Thumper didn’t tell them, but they looked at him with a mixture of pity and scorn. They knew he was homeless.
Of course no one said anything. Everyone pretended to think Thumper was merely taking in a roommate half his age, rent-free. Which he was. There was just more to the story, and all them all knew it.
Behind the Cityside Barbershop was a staircase that led to an apartment on the second floor of the building. That was Thumper’s apartment. To be more precise, it was a Bloods apartment, and the Bloods let Thumper live in it because Thumper did thirty-four years for the Bloods. They owed him, and part of that was giving him a free apartment.
The catch was that Thumper had to share it with a young nigga now and then, which did not bother Thumper. It did bother Rico.
He heavyfooted into the apartment, a feeling dread spreading deep in his loins. Rico had the sinking feeling that this was adulthood, and he was soon going to wish he was a teenager again. High school was so simple, but so long ago. Thumper was in his forties, maybe older, which was ancient as far as Rico was concerned.
When Rico arrived, Thumper was in his living room, meeting with a few other gangbangers. As they all finished up Bloods business, Rico “moved in”, a process completed when he dropped his trash bag.
There was no spare bedroom, so Rico was sleeping on the couch. He was fine with that because he hoped it would spur him into finding a new place. He didn’t want to live here forever, like Thumper’s little butt-boy.
“Yo, Rico, come here and rap at us,” Thumper said, the meeting dwindling as the others left one by one. His voice was deep and tough, commanding respect. “We talkin’ ‘bout what to do regardin’ the Sweet Hill boys. Whatchoo think?”
“Well, I think we gotta beat them niggas down,” Rico said, more because he wanted to seem tough than because he had any particular knowledge of the situation. He was only vaguely aware that the Sweet Hill gang had begun selling crack on territory the Bloods considered to be their own.
“Alright, that’s a plan,” Thumper said. He smiled at Rico. “You get yo’ niggas together and do it this week, okay?”
Rico hadn’t thought he’d be put in charge of it, but he could hardly say no when Thumper was letting him stay here rent-free. He nodded as though it wasn’t going to be difficult. Some of the other thugs looked at Rico pitiably, and Rico tried not to notice.
Now the big problem Rico had was that he needed to find some niggas who were willing to put their lives at risk for a plan Rico hadn’t come up with yet to attack some unknown number of strangers somewhere in the city. Rico was going to struggle to put that crew together, and he wondered if Thumper had assigned him that role to see if he was up to snuff, if could actually put plans together. As a true blue gangbanger — or a true red gangbanger, as Rico liked to think of it — Rico very much thought of himself as capable of doing that.
But none of his friends would even let him sleep on their couch, so Rico had doubts he could get them to go in at the Sweet Hill boys guns blazing.
Thumper clapped his hands together as though the Sweet Hill problem was as good as solved, and the last few Bloods headed out the door. Rico’s mind raced as he tried to think of a way out of this. He shouldn’t have agreed to the Sweet Hill mission so readily. He didn’t even know where Sweet Hill was — Sweet Hill was the name of the shopping center with the CVS and the T-Mobile store. Was Rico supposed to gather a crew to go shoot up the T-Mobile store? He couldn’t very well ask Thumper now, could he? He’d already agreed to do it, he’d look like an idiot admitting only now that he didn’t know where the Sweet Hill boys were, who they were, how to hit them, how many they were, etc.
And no guns! Rico didn’t have any guns! He had a week to put together a crew, find out what and where the Sweet Hill boys are, find guns, go in shooting, succeed in intimidating them and dispose of the guns and perhaps dead bodies. Since he’d agreed to do it so confidently, if he succeeded — which he obviously wouldn’t — but if he succeeded, he’d barely get any credit for it. Thumper would just say ‘good job, you did what you said you’d do’.
He should have made a bigger deal out of how difficult it would be. Maybe he could have gotten Thumper to at least provide the guns.
Once the door shut, Rico was alone with Thumper for the first time ever — it hadn’t occurred to Rico until this moment that he had never been alone with Thumper. Thumper was one of the head honchos in the Bloods, but Rico had only ever spent time with him in a group.
Now he very much wished one of his niggas had let him sleep on the couch.
The apartment stayed silent once the others were gone. Rico gulped. Sweat beaded on his forehead because he sensed Thumper staring at him, evaluating him, maybe just seeing how long he’d take being stared at before he snapped. Thumper was like that. He be testing niggas.
“You ever mess around on the downlow, Rico?” Thumper asked after a long, awkward silence fell between them.
“Uh, yeah. Once,” Rico said. He instantly regretted saying that. It was true, but he had heard Thumper was often on the downlow with his close niggas — only for Thumper, “downlow” meant you serviced him, not any kind of reciprocal behavior. That wasn’t what Rico meant by it.
Rico looked down at his feet, avoiding eye contact from Thumper.
After a long pause, Thumper raised his eyebrows. “Just once, huh? You do it with a nigga you respec’?”
“I guess so.” Rico didn’t know how to answer that. He did it with Kayshawn Henderson, who he didn’t really respect or get along with — they were just drunk — but he didn’t want to explain that to Thumper. Kayshawn wasn’t even a Blood. Plus it was downlow, which means secret. Thumper might be angry if Rico shared a secret, because Thumper trusted Rico not to spill the beans on Bloods business.
“Huh,” Thumper said with a knowing nod. He raised his eyebrows. Rico sighed. He winced. He got a very strong impression that Thumper wanted Rico to jerk him off.
Thumper was like that. After thirty-four years in prison, Thumper did not jack himself off. He saw it as demeaning. He often demanded niggas jack him off — with mouth! Swallowing! The whole nine yards! Rico could understand the impulse. He didn’t like jacking himself off either. It made him feel like an immature brat.
But he couldn’t bring himself to mouth Thumper off. Thumper was an old man by Rico’s standards. It would be humiliating. Thumper could get any random crackhead in this neighborhood to mouth him off.
Thumper crossed his arms over his chest, accentuating the softball-sized pecs beneath his tight t-shirt. He ran his tongue over his teeth and clucked. “Huh,” he said again.
“Thumper, I… Uh, thanks a lot fo’ lettin’ me stay here,” Rico said. His heart raced again. Just like when he was nervous those niggas in the barbershop would realize he was homeless, he was nervous now that all the niggas in the Bloods would hear about him jerking Thumper off.
Thumper nodded.
Rico sighed again. This wouldn’t be that bad, he thought, he’d done it before. A lot of Bloods had jerked Thumper off too — Thumper loved finding reasons to make a loyal Blood do it, like if they fucked something up. So nobody would be shocked to find out Rico did it. In fact, they’d probably assume he did, cuz Thumper seemed like the type to make his roommate jerk him off. He was precisely that kind of nigga, and Rico was too young and powerless in the organization to resist.
When Thumper had stood before him for what seemed like a long time, Rico sunk to his knees, afront the couch he was to sleep on tonight. Thumper seemed huge from down below him. Rico gulped.
At last that position made Thumper grunt out his satisfaction. He stood still, looming over Rico, who winced and wished there was another position to do it in — he could hardly make demands though — it would be less humiliating if Thumper sat on the couch and Rico could lay down on it or something like that. Any position in which Rico didn’t have to kneel like a beggar would be an improvement.
Rico waited for a moment, thinking Thumper would take his own dick out, but he didn’t. He just towered over Rico and watched. Rico winced at the realization that Thumper wanted Rico to take it out. That was prison bitch stuff, he thought.
Reaching up for Thumper’s dick, Rico shuddered. Then, much to his surprise, Thumper batted his hand away.
“You should ask a nigga fo’ permission befo’ you start stroking his dick,” Thumper said. “If that’s what you wanna do.”
Rico spoke quietly, blushing so hard his cheeks burned. “Thumper… do you want, uh…? I mean… is it okay, uh, if I jerk you off?”
“That’s a real nice offer, nigga. That’s a good gesture,” he said, as though it was the first time he had said that word and was unsure how to pronounce it. Before Rico could undo his belt, Thumper clucked his disapproval. “Play wit’ it through my pants first, nigga. Go slow, make it feel good.”
Rico blanched and winced. He gently stroked the bulge in Thumper’s dick, and for some reason just feeling that spongy flesh through his jeans made Rico gag. Thumper’s manhood stirred beneath the denim. He groaned in a way that made Rico shiver with disgust. He groaned like he was on the verge of orgasm, even though all Rico had done was touch his dickshaft through his jeans. Thumper wasn’t even hard.
He took Thumper’s belt in hand to undo it, but Thumper stopped him. He dragged Rico’s hand back to the bulge in his jeans. “No, don’t take my pants off,” Thumper said. “Just undo the fly and take it out. Look me in the eye when you jerk me off. That’s a mark of respec’, nigga.”
His hands trembled. Rico wasn’t sure if he could do that — stroking another man’s cock was humiliating enough, but looking Thumper in the eye while he did it would make it even worse. The zipper seemed impossibly loud, and when it was open, Rico got a burst of stale crotch sweat in his nostrils. He gagged again, and Thumper clucked with disapproval once more.
“You may take it out now, Rico,” Thumper said. Something in the way he said his name made Rico shudder all over again.
Rico had to reach in to pull out Thumper’s dick, which was still soft and veiny, dark brown like dirt, slick with sweat. He wanted to wipe it off, but Rico was sure Thumper would say that was disrespectful. The smell of unwashed ballsweat made Rico’s stomach churn.
That cock was huge. Rico knew Thumper had a big one, lots of niggas said so, but he had never seen it in person. It was a foot long even fully soft, and it was hot and slimy with sweat, so thick Rico could barely get his whole hand around it. It dangled afront Thumper’s crotch, and it swayed like a pendulum when Thumper moved.
Rico opened his mouth and closed his eyes, and he waited.
After a few seconds of nothing happening, Rico opened his eyes again. Thumper’s dick was still there, still limp, and seeing it made the smell of crotchsweat more potent, so Rico bit back a gag. That was when he looked up and saw Thumper’s furrowed brow aimed down at him. Rico gulped.
“Well? Put’cha mouth on it, nigga,” Thumper said. “Get’cha hands on it. Is you showin’ respec’ or not?”
“I am-“
“Then do somethin’ with it,” Thumper said. He put his hands on his hips and raised his eyebrows.
Rico touched it again, gently with one hand, which he then wrapped around the shaft. He grimaced. This was a lot easier with Kayshawn, he thought. Then they were drunk, having snuck booze into a church lock-in, and they were sharing a bed, the lights stayed off, they barely talked, it was more of an accidental fumbling thing than a real downlow “seduction” of any kind. By the time Rico pondered it, it was over with.
This felt entirely different. Thumper’s cock had that old-man smell too, with seemingly too much dickskin. Rico didn’t like how it roped around in his grasp as he stroked it gingerly, slowly, as badly as possible at first because he didn’t want a reputation for doing it good, then he realized the better his hands were, the less Thumper might demand he use his mouth, so Rico stroked it as good as he could. Thumper kept letting out little moans and pumping his hips as though so horny he couldn’t resist attempting at Rico’s mouth. Thumper’s dick stayed soft though, and he was obviously not that horny, he was just pretending.
“Hmm, you got a real pretty mouth, nigga,” Thumper murmured. “Put it on my dick.”
Rico winced, but he opened his mouth. He held onto Thumper’s cock by the root with one hand, and he moved his open mouth in that direction with his eyes scrunched shut. Thumper used both hands to guide Rico’s head until his mouth and nose collided with Thumper’s sweaty cockshaft.
A furious gag came outta Rico’s mouth as Thumper’s spongy limp dick touched his lips and then his tongue. There was already a slight cummy taste, either precum from Rico’s masturbating it through Thumper’s pants or maybe left over from something else. Maybe it was leftover from when he was “on the downlow” with some other nigga, Rico didn’t know how often a downlow gangbanger like Thumper would do that. Maybe lots. They said he was a booty bandit in prison.
Thumper kept his arms over his chest, so Rico had to chase his cock with his mouth. Every time the tip got in his mouth, he tasted sweaty old-nigga nastiness again, gagged and spat it out. Thumper wasn’t getting an erection like that.
But rico couldn’t quite bring himself to go any deeper than the tip. Even that felt impossibly thick, and Rico wasn’t sure he could go any farther. Thumper’s dick was thicker than his mouth.
“When you handle the dick of a nigga you respec’, Rico, you should deep-throat it,” Thumper said. “You know what that means? You evuh get head from a girl?”
“Yes!” Rico said, annoyed at Thumper’s patronizing tone.
“Don’t you talk to me like that, nigga,” Thumper said, his voice growly and threatening. Rico shuddered. Thumper forced his eyes open — Rico hadn’t even noticed he closed them — and sneered down at Rico. “Real niggas got backup plans, Rico, you know that? They ready to get kicked outta they place. They got cash.”
Rico wanted to defend himself, but when he tried to pull off Thumper’s dick, Thumper’s hands gripped his head and held it in place. Thumper growled again, and he pushed Rico’s head deeper onto his shaft. Rico gagged all over again as that cock pushed into his throat.
“Take my balls out wit’ one hand, and play wit’ em. Gentle-like,” Thumper said. He groaned as Rico did so, gingerly playing with his sweaty sac. The feel of that slick flesh made Rico’s stomach churn. His cock throbbed and grew warmer and warmer as it firmed up in Rico’s mouth. “Yeah, that’s nice, nigga. That’s respec’.”
The sour flavor of precum assaulted Rico’s senses, and brought tears to his eyes. He was glad it was dark enough in this room that Thumper couldn’t see — it wasn’t really crying anyway, he thought, it was tears from suffocation and stress, not being a pansy. He didn’t think Thumper would acknowledge a difference though.
The tasty of sweaty cockmeat grew more and more tolerable, though Rico thought that was mainly because he sucked up all the sweat and grime, replacing it with plain spit. The veiny shaft invaded his throat with each powerful thrust of Thumper’s cock.
The moist grunting of Thumper’s voice was offputting to Rico. He sounded like a rutting animal, and it reminded Rico that his mouth was just being used now. Thumper was going to continue to use his mouth and body — though hopefully not his ass — until Rico moved out. That was possibly the entire reason Thumper offered to let him stay here.
“Whatchoo plan wit’ my nut?” Thumper asked as he groaned.
Rico didn’t understand the question. He just looked up at Thumper, and tried to ignore that massive shaft drilling into his throat. All of a sudden, a burst of salty precum hit his tongue, and Rico gagged violently.
But Thumper kept a grip on his head. Rico tried to look down as he retched, only he couldn’t with Thumper’s hands on his head. All he could do was gag up around the erect cock bobbing around on his face, leaving a layer of precum that only made him gag again and again.
“Huh? I’m gonna blow my load,” Thumper said. “Whatchoo gonna do wit’ it? You want me to shoot it on yo’ face or what? In yo’ hand? You need a plan.”
Rico was glad to hear that he had a choice. He pulled off Thumper’s dick, intending to say in my hand, which was the least objectionable option. But then he saw Thumper’s scrunched-up face, and Rico knew this was a test. He wasn’t sure exactly what the answer was, but in my hand wasn’t it.
“Think long and hard, Rico. You got a lotta factors to consider. Yo’ respec’ fo’ me, if you got any,” Thumper said. He sniffled.
“I’ll… uh, swallow it,” Rico said, wincing as Thumper mollwopped his erection onto Rico’s face, smearing spit and precum all over it. He held his breath to avoid gagging.
“Yeah,” Thumper said. “You will. But befo’ that, I wanna see it. I like seeing it. Play’ wit’ it a bit.”
“Oh.”
“So whatchoo think?”
“I, uh… I guess I’ll do that.”
“So where you want me to nut? In yo’ mouth?”
It was obvious he wanted Rico to say yes, so he did so. Then Thumper pushed his cock back in Rico’s mouth. He grunted as he wrapped his hands behind Rico’s head.
He thrust his hips so powerfully his cockshaft pushed down Rico’s throat until his nose was nestled in Thumper’s pubic hair. Rico couldn’t even gag because his throat was so choked with throbbing dickmeat. All he could do was sit there on his knees and let it happen.
“That’s a good idea, Rico. I’ll shoot my load in yo’ mouth, just like you askin’ me to. That’s very respec’ful, nigga. Don’t swallow nothin’ till I tell you to, okay? We gonna play a bit first.”
Rico nodded, but even as he did, Thumper was blowing his wad. He shot it right in the back of Rico’s throat. Some of it dripped into his gullet, but Rico instinctively avoided swallowing it. He would have accidentally spilled it all but Thumper kept a tight grip on his head. Thumper grunted, rutting like a pig as his fat cock spasmed inside Rico.
At last it was over, and a burst of jizz spurted onto Rico’s tongue. Salty cum filled his mouth. It seemed like a huge amount, but Rico wasn’t sure how much was normal or how much it really was. His stomach churned with disgust, begging him to spit it out. The sour and salty flavor made his eyes water all over again, and he had to hold back a violent retch.
“Open up,” Thumper said, his voice wavering as another jet of cum hit Rico’s mouth. He kneeled down and looked in. “Come on,” he said. “It’s dark in here. I wanna see yo’ pretty-boy mouth.”
Gagging and holding onto his stomach, Rico managed to spread his lips without spilling any of the cum filling his mouth, as Thumper’s dicktip hovered over his face and spewed a few final drops onto his nose and upper lip. Thumper looked into his mouth as though trying to find something. He smiled with satisfaction, then spat right into it. The bitterness of his saliva made Rico choke. He nearly spilled but Thumper held him by the neck.
“That’s a big one,” Thumper said. He stuck one finger in, all the way back until Rico gagged. Then Thumper held the palm of his hand out until Rico spat the entire wad into it. Rico was glad to be rid of it, though he could still feel that snotty texture on his tongue. There was a pubic hair stuck in the back of his throat too, but he couldn’t spit it out right now.
Thumper raised his eyebrows as Rico got ahold of his stomach and his gagging. He kept that cum-filled palm right in front of Rico’s face, where the scent assaulted his nostrils, making it hard for Rico to regain his composure. Thumper cleared his throat. “I’ll ignore your gagging, Rico. That’s rude, but I understand…” It was obvious he wanted Rico to suck the cum back up, and he raised his eyebrows as though to say You better do it now, it’ll get worse when it’s cold. Rico opened his mouth, but Thumper cleared his throat and shook his head.
Rico blushed. “Uh… Thumper, can I eat your nut?”
“Yes, you may. Thank you for askin’, nigga.”
Rico gagged and nearly vomited as he sucked it off Thumper’s callused palm. He choked it down and waited there, blushing intensely as Thumper looked him in the eye. Then Thumper’s fingers forced his mouth open, and he checked that Rico had swallowed the whole thing. Rico felt that hot lump in his belly, the creamy texture and the sheer warmth of it suffusing into his flesh.
“Good,” he said. “Now go to sleep. Set yo’ alarm for seven o’clock, nigga. By seven-thirty, I want you wakin’ me up wit’ yo’ prettyboy mouth on my dick again. Have breakfast ready when you swallow my first nut of the day. You understand?”
“Yes, Thumper,” Rico said. He gulped. Remnants of jizz shone all over his mug. “I’ll do it.”
“I know. I ain’t ax fo’ yo’ agreement, Rico. I axt fo’ yo’ comprehension. Yo’ agreement is assumed,” Thumper said. He slapped his limp dick over Rico’s face again. “Don’t wipe that nut off yo’ face. I wanna see it dried on there in the morning.”

The Prisoner Bottoms

Rob has paid for “seven minutes in heaven” with the inmate of his choosing, but that inmate turns out to be the alpha male thug Nutter, who’s got a secret desire of his own. Nutter can’t wait to get Rob alone so he can learn what happens when he puts a twink on top!

Can Rob handle this prison-life rough trade turned upside down?!

Read it now as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Rob strode into prison with as confidence as he could muster — he didn’t want to look like he was a sniveling weakling precisely because he was about to act like one — but his ego quickly deflated. He was searched, poked and prodded by Officer Budinsky. It was demeaning, and it made Rob feel like a prisoner. It both helped and exacerbated the problem that Officer Budinsky was a handsome man himself, with a sturdy physique and a big square jaw.
But Rob wasn’t here for Officer Budinsky. Rob had paid to meet an inmate.
He walked through the state prison increasingly nervous at the hooting, shouting, whooping and thudding he heard in the cells lining every corridor. He was glad when they at last came to Cell Block Omega, which Budinsky had said was not in use due to a sewage line break.
Spread among the cells of Omega Block were eight prisoners who met Rob’s criteria and were willing to let Rob’s tiny twink body service them. Rob had been daydreaming about setting this sort of encounter up for years, and he never thought he’d go through with it until a few months ago, when he realized he needed to just bite the bullet and try. The worst that could happen was being refused by the prison guard he approached.
“Wuddup, Booty!” came a voice from one of the cells.
“Fuckin’ A, man, c’mon, hurry it up!”
“Tell him I’ll do it! Tell him I got the biggest dick, Booty!” They called Budinsky ‘Officer Booty’, maybe because he had a big ass crammed into his too-tight uniform pants. He had powerful trunk-like thighs and thick arms.
“I’ll make his bigguh, I got tasty cum, tell him I’ll be gentle, Booty! Tell him my cum works a treat!”
“Nah, nah, my jizz is the most effective, swear to God, nigga!”
Rob did not tell Budinsky that he thought ingesting the semen of strong, testosterone-laden men would make him bigger, stronger, tougher or possessing of a larger penis. Rob did not believe that, and Budinsky never even asked if that was why he was setting this up. It seemed he assumed though, as several of the hooting inmates made reference to it.
Seven minutes ought to be enough, Rob thought. That was all Rob paid for. Budinsky assured him that these men would be horny and ready to take charge, so the brief duration wouldn’t be a detriment to the experience. Rob wanted to be held down and rammed hard, slapped, treated like a submissive prison bitch, and he was told most prison “bitch-outs” took only a few minutes. The sight of empty cells and the hollering of men in a far off block made him hard even before he had seen a single inmate. This whole prison smelled of men. You could tell no women ever came here, not past the visitation area. Rob had had to adjust his erect cock in his pants several times on the walk through the prison.
The one in the first cell was tall and lean, with dreadlocks and hawkish features. He spoke with a faint island accent, but Rob suspected that was an affectation, he was probably from like Delaware or somewhere humiliating like that. No wonder he was pretending to be from anywhere else. He had an East Coast stawk that was his deeper than his Caribbean lilt. He flopped his dick between his fingers and showed off his perfect six-pack. “Yo, mon, you like me-uh treat you poorly? I will ram you senseless, whiteman. You will cry when I am uh-done wit’chou. I will plow the sissy-boy outta you, and then I gonna plow it right back in.”
Rob preferred men with a little meat on their bones — as much as he wished he could get on his knees and jerk the dreadlocked man off through the cell bars, Rob thought there was someone better in one of the other cells. It’s a good thing he never became a prison guard, cuz he would spend all his time on his knees in front of these men.
Then he passed a burly black man with a wild beard and a sour look on his face. He nodded at Rob, ran his tongue under his upper lip and said, “Damn, whiteboi, you look good enough to eat.”
But Rob moved on. He wasn’t quite right. The next one was Latino and bald-headed. “You wanna be my puta?” he asked as Rob walked past.
The fourth person was heavily tattooed. He didn’t say anything, he just nodded at Rob and bucked forward as though he was going to attack Rob through the cell bars. Rob instinctively shrank back and blushed when the tattooed thug cackled at him.
As soon as Rob came to the fifth cell, he knew he had found his man.
“So, you the man who wanna be my bitch, huh?”
His smooth baritone made Rob blush. He quickly hurried to the end of the corridor to see the others — that just seemed polite, after all, they had come all the way here — but he knew what he wanted. That man in the fifth cell was tall and broad-shouldered, with a powerhouse physique, dripping with muscle and meat. His skin was camel brown and moisturized like a warrior, smooth and glistening, you could tell the sweat would gleam on him. Looked like he scrubbed up though, he was clean and smelled like industrial soap. He didn’t have a six-pack, just a tiny belly, barely enough to grab on to, but that was the perfect size for Rob. There was a crucifix tattooed over his sternum and a gun on each bicep.
“Yo,” he said with a big wide, shit-eating grin when Rob chose him. “I’m Nutter.” He undressed Rob with his eyes, and his dick visibly shifted in his orange prison pants.
“Charles Everly,” Officer Budinsky said. “Mister Everly here is an armed robber and an arms-trafficker-“
“I sold one gun, Budinsky, don’t be dramatic,” he said. He snorted and avoided looking at Rob. “So you the one who wanna be a prison bitch, huh? Ain’t nevuh heard of no one who want that. But you kinda look like a bitch, so it ain’t hard to believe. It’s been awhile for me. I enjoy holdin’ a nigga down and makin’ him cry uncle — not that I stop then, it’s just nice to hear him cry — but I might like-“
“Don’t hurt him, Mister Everly,” Budinsky said. “I’ll be right out here.”
“You think my cum is gonna make yo’ dick bigger, huh?” Nutter asked.
Rob shrugged. “Not really. Some people do. I’ve never been convinced,” he said. “I’m just doing it because I want to.”
Nutter nodded like that was a very good reason. He glanced at Budinsky, who unlocked the cell. “Can we put the curtain up?” Nutter asked with a sultry rumble to his voice.
Officer Budinsky looked to Rob, who blushed again and nodded. “Please! Let’s do that. I wanna have the real prison bitch experience.” Rob’s heart felt like it might jump out of his chest. This was really happening! He couldn’t believe he’d put it off for so long, then it turned out to be easy, and now Rob was gonna get wrecked by Nutter’s huge slab of alpha male prison-starved meat.
“Oh, yeah, that’s what we gonna have, the real prison bitch experience,” Nutter said. He laughed, and the men in the other cells joined in. “I am gonna treat you bad, whiteboi, bad in all the right ways. Hope you wasn’t intendin’ to walk outta here.”
“Destroy ‘im, Nutter!”
“He picked Nutter?”
“Damn-“
“He don’t want a Mexican. Don’t nobody want a Mexican. Even Mexicans is itchin’ to get away-“
“Nutter! Nutter! Wreck his asshole!”
Rob had never felt so weak and submissive. His dick was rock-hard, and it started leaking precum the moment he heard the lock slide into place. The door was shut, and the prison cell was stuffy. Nutter’s smell and body heat filled the air.
“Gonna destroy you, pansy,” Nutter said with a sneer. He quickly hung up a sheet that blocked the cell from view. Rob shivered as he anticipated what was going to come next. Nutter towered over him by more than a foot, and he must have outweighed Rob by a hundred and fifty pounds or more.
“Make him squeal like a piggie, Nutter!”
“I will!” he called out. Once the sheet was hung up, however, his smile changed. He sunk down so he looked Rob right in the eyes. It almost felt like he was going to kiss Rob. He whispered, “Yo, I got a proposition for ya. I been in this place fo’ a long time, and I done had a million prison bitches. I plowed ‘em up, and I wrecked ‘em, and I moved on to the next. I wanna do somethin’ different.”
“Oh… like what?”
“I want you to ram me,” he said. He looked down and bit his lower lip. Then, for the benefit of everyone listening on the other side of the curtain, he called out, “You know what prison lube is? It’s how we get a bitch to deep-throat. Lemme spit in yo’ throat, lube it up real good.” He spat on the ground, and everyone cheered him on. Then he whispered again, “I wanna taste yo’ dick and feel you inside of me.”
“Are you serious?”
“This is a serious place, and I am a serious nigga,” he said, his face flat. “Come on, honky. I know you came here to bottom, and I’ll plow the shit outta you — literally — if that’s whatchoo want. But I wanna get it up the ass. I can’t let anyone in here know a white man got me up behind. That’ll ruin my rep. So this my only option. I ain’t think I ever gonna have the chance to bottom for a pretty boy like you. Whatchoo think?”
“Are you serious? Hell yeah,” Rob said, focusing hard to keep himself from being too loud. This was all happening so fast, it was hard to recalibrate his expectations. It wasn’t what he had come in here for, but he couldn’t imagine anything more enjoyable than plowing Nutter’s massive body.
“Alright,” he grinned. “Let’s hurry up, or we gonna run outta time. Seven minutes ain’t much.” He hesitated, then stooped over and kissed Rob on the lips. He was halting and slow. His tongue pushed into Rob’s mouth.
Though his passion was lacking at first, a few seconds in, Nutter let out a moan that resonated in Rob’s mouth. His tongue suddenly moved, clobbering Rob’s own tongue, and his thick fingers grasped Rob’s shirt. He ripped it, buttons flying to the bunk and dingy toilet in the corner of his cell.
“I ain’t hear him squeal yet, his mouth full?”
“Sounds moist in there, I can kinda hear it. He plowing that fairy in the face, I think.”
“Nutter, how that sissy-boi takin’ it, mon?”
“You can’t hear him choke, nigga? Guess his bitch mouth is just too full to choke. He ain’t breathe in a minute, son,” Nutter said. “Got too much dick in there, and he lovin’ it, like a fuckin’ Big Mac and shit!” His big eyes twinkled as he pecked Rob on the lips and then worked his way down Rob’s pale, lithe body. He shuddered like he was surprised at the taste, and he stopped to suck on Rob’s nipples. Then he licked Rob’s flat belly and stopped only when he reached Rob’s pubic hair (which he kept trimmed very short).
Nutter was so much bigger than Rob that even getting on his knees wasn’t enough, he was still too tall to swallow Rob’s dick. He had to get on all fours, with his plump ass high in the air, while Rob stood on his toes in front of Nutter’s face.
But when he did get his head in position, Nutter wasted no time in swallowing Rob’s dick to the root. He seemed surprised that Rob’s cock wasn’t as proportionately small as his body was. He motioned for Rob to make some noise. An immediate shudder of pleasure wracked Rob’s body, as Nutter’s warm mouth encircled his cock.
Rob blushed but spat and sputtered, hocking up a few loogies and even sticking a finger far enough down his throat to gag once, making a sound that could be heard outside the cell. That made the other men laugh and cheer, banging on the bars of their cell.
“That sounds right, nigga!”
“Choke him! Show him how we do it!”
In no time Rob was rock-hard, and he started getting into it. Every time the men quieted down, he made it sound like he was getting throated and loving it, and they’d laugh again. Even Officer Budinsky chuckled quietly.
“You got this, Nutter!”
Nutter had a broad back, pocked with a few scars and marks, plus some dark blue prison tats that Rob couldn’t quite make out (some kind of writing, he thought, possibly Hebrew, like an Old Testament verse). He stroked Nutter’s muscles, trying to reach his plump ass, but he was much too short. Instead he grasped at Nutter’s back and shoulders, sighing as pleasure moved through him. They both threw their heads back and moaned. Rob’s moan was drowned out by Nutter’s, and Nutter made his sound exaggerated and comical so it wasn’t obvious to their audience why he was moaning.
“He change his mind about being a prison bitch, Nutter?”
“No, he ain’t! He is lovin’ every second of it! He’s serious.” Nutter guffawed, then aimed his voice at Rob. “You should commit some crimes and shit, whiteboi. You could be the queen bitch in this place!” Nutter said. His voice was joyous and light-hearted, even as his face was serious, gasping, with Rob’s dick throbbing against his nose and cheeks.
As he resumed slurping on Rob’s dick, Nutter moved his head more and more aggressively up and down. Rob felt like he was being attacked by Nutter’s massive head, which made him throw his head back and moan — he covered his mouth with a hand to muffle the sound. Nutter took Rob’s hands in his and wrapped it over his head. The sensation was exquisite, and it felt so good Rob’s toes curled and his hands formed fists at his sides. It felt so good it hurt, and Rob had to avoid moaning lest the thugs outside this cell realized what was happening.
Rob had been on the receiving end of a jailhouse-style throating on several occasions, but he had never topped for that kind of scenario.
But he wanted to give Nutter what he desired. He held onto the ragged short afro on Nutter’s head, gripping his hair, and he slammed his dick all the way in. Nutter let out a chortling gurgling sound with a moistness that made everyone else burst into cheers. To Rob, it sounded much too deep to be his own voice — he was more high-pitched and feminine than that — but luckily it seemed the other inmates didn’t realize that. They had never heard Rob before today so they had no basis for comparison.
“Ram ‘im harder!”
Nutter pulled off and laid on his back on the bare mattress on the bunk in the cell. He snorted and sniffled, wiping fluids off his face, and he smiled silently at Rob. He let his head hang over the foot of the bed. “That’s the proper position for a prison bitch, alright, pervert? Get ready to get yo’self throated.”
“Yeah, plow ‘is gullet, nigga!”
“Ram ‘im! Ram ‘im! Ram ‘im!”
Rob squealed loudly, blushing as the other inmates cheered him on. Nutter was in exactly the position Rob liked to get throated in. Rob had never in his life been on this side of it. He approached Nutter’s broad face and pushed his dick past those thick, juicy lips. His cock slammed into Nutter’s throat, making him retch and writhe atop the filthy prison mattress.
“He regrettin’ signin’ up fo’ this yet?”
Incredible pleasure rocketed through Rob’s spine. He had never felt like this, not even on those few occasions when he got to top someone. Bliss roiled his body and made his knees weak. He shuddered and moaned quietly, every ounce of concentration he could muster going towards not being so loud that he alerted the others to the fact that he wasn’t bottoming as they thought.
Precum flowed down Nutter’s throat. From the reaction on his face, it seemed he had little experience with that. Did he like the taste or hate it? Rob couldn’t tell, and in this position, he didn’t have to care. He felt like he was overpowering Nutter, whose muscular limbs contorted as he accepted the throating. His muscles flexed and bucked as though he was fighting back, and his movement made the bunk beneath him move. The sound of steel scraping against the prison cell floor caused a torrent of cheers from the other cells.
He pulled off once again, grabbed Rob’s slick dick. He lowered his head farther, so he could suck on Rob’s balls. Then he called out, “He suckin’ the sweat off my balls now, what a nasty punk he is!” He let both of Rob’s balls fit easily in his big mouth. He suckled loudly, making a sputtering sound that provoked more cheers from the other cells.
“Nasty! Can’t believe he signed up for this!”
Then Nutter pulled away, stood up and turned around, in a hurry like he had just remembered they were on a time limit. Spit clung to his lips in tendrils, and his ruddy face was moist with tears from lack of oxygen and sweat dappling his forehead. Rob too was sweaty and exhausted, sensations still flowing through his veins, and he had to focus to avoid nutting.
“Four minutes left, guys,” Officer Budinsky said. “You better hurry up.”
His ass was much wider than Rob’s body, not because he was fat, it was just big and broad and juicy. Each cheek was nearly twice the size of Rob’s head. He lowered his ass onto Rob’s dick, slowly. Rob still stood at the foot of the bed, so Nutter crouched on all fours on the ground and backed up until his ass lined up with Rob’s crotch. His crack was choked with sweaty hair, which Rob would have gladly licked clean like a good prison bitch. He felt like he was losing his entire body in the choked masculine jungle of Nutter’s ass.
“Gettin’ in his ass now, Budinsky, cool yo’ jets,” Nutter said. “Don’t worry, he gettin’ e’ry inch of me that he entitled to. Don’t you worry yo’ sweet redneck head about that, Budinsky.”
“You alright in there, sir?” Budinsky asked through the curtain.
“Yeah…” Rob said, too embarrassed to think of anything else to say. He wasn’t sure how to say it that wouldn’t give away what was really happening in here. “I… uh, he’s treating me right.”
“That’s right, he is! Nigga please! Showin’ you how it’s done!”
“You mean he treatin’ you wrong, but he doin’ it in the right way.”
Rob gulped as Nutter penetrated himself with Rob’s dick. Rob gingerly gripped his shoulders and held on while he began humping back, gradually losing his inhibitions. Another jolt of pleasure ran up his body from the moment his dick poked through that jungle of sweaty ass-hair and into his tight hole.
When Nutter grunted in pain, he covered it up with a louder roar, an aggressive sound that made the other inmates whoop and holler along with him. Nutter threw his head back and wordlessly moaned, smiling at Rob even as he grunted out threats and insults.
“Gonna ram you so hard you wear a diaper, honky…” Nutter said out loud, with as much confidence as he could muster.
Rob was not an actor. He tried to pant like a submissive man might — he should have been better at it, since that was the role he normally played, but everything happening here was outside his wheelhouse. He couldn’t remember what kind of sounds he might normally make in the reverse of this situation.
“Make ‘im beg for mercy, nigga!”
It was clear that Nutter wasn’t kidding about having never gotten it up the ass — not that Rob ever doubted him. His asshole was so tight that Rob had to really shove to get his dick in there. There was no time for a gentle approach either. Rob pushed it in farther and farther, and when Nutter didn’t stop him, he began to ram his shaft back and forth, uncaring of his resistance or the hairs that Rob’s dick accidentally ripped from his crack.
“Teach ‘im a lesson! Fuckin’ white man, comin’ in here, tryin’-a get it up the ass and shit…”
Each time Rob rammed his dick into him, Nutter winced and blanched. The whole experience was so incredible that each time Rob thrust past Nutter’s resistance in his ass, a surge of awkward pleasure hit him and Rob moaned in a pained, struggling way. It genuinely did sound like a prison bitch getting plowed, which just egged the other inmates on.
“Wreck him! Ruin him! Show him how we do it, nigga! No mercy!”
“No mercy!”
Rob did indeed plow with no mercy. Of course it was Nutter who responded, “He takin’ it, nigga. Ain’t like a prison bitch, he been opened up a million times before. Kinda nice plowin’ a bitch who ain’t too squirmy. Gonna fill him up wit’ some nut.”
“Two minutes left, guys. You still alright in there?”
“Yes! Yes, officer…” Rob said, his excitement making everyone, including Budinsky, laugh. “I’m, uh… I’m just finishing up.” He threw his head back and moaned as wave after wave of unimaginable bliss washed over him, so intense it was painful as he lost himself in the massive muscled ass trembling before his gentle frame.
Nutter’s ass clenched when he approached his own orgasm. He had started jacking himself off. Rob tried to give him a reacharound, but he could barely reach all the way around, so he just fumbled with Nutter’s powerhouse body while slamming his dick in and out of Nutter’s jiggling, tight ass.
“Aw, shit…” Nutter grunted. “You take dick good!”
When Rob’s orgasm finally came, it felt like it had been a lifetime, way more than seven minutes. Rob yelped and scratched at Nutter’s back — he was so big and thick-skinned he didn’t seem to notice — while intense pleasure suffused both men’s bodies, in sync with each other like no one Rob had ever been with before.
Cum flowed into Nutter’s ass, a huge load that dripped out and down those giant trunk-like thighs. It splatted on the floor, but still Rob came. Nutter roared as he shot his own load into his hand and all over his chest. He managed to make the roar sound like a manly cavemanesque grunt.
Rob’s entire body went limp. He knew they were running out of time, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull out, not yet. He kept it there, stimulating Nutter’s prostate while Nutter’s body writhed and flexed with both bliss and agony, pride and shame visible on his contorting face.
Nutter turned around, his massive chest gleaming, covered in his own cum. Rob licked every inch of it, savoring the meaty feel of the man’s muscles. Nutter made sure the cum reached up to his face, so when Rob moved upward and kissed Nutter on the lips, he tasted it. He had to climb the man’s mountainous torso to get there, gripping his throbbing muscles with Rob’s delicate fingers.
They shared cum for another minute or so, stopping only when Officer Budinsky counted down the last thirty seconds. Rob was bashful and hurriedly cleaned himself up with a napkin before putting his clothes back on. Nutter just stood there, covered in fluids, his cum mingling with his sweat so it wasn’t obvious what it was. His dick dangled between his legs.
“Damn, Nutter, put some clothes on,” Officer Budinsky said when he reached zero and pulled the curtain down.
Rob was bright red, too scared he’d blurt out what happened to say anything at all. He quickly dressed and clasped the sweaty small of Nutter’s back.
“Bye, Nutter, that was amazing. You’re the best prison alpha-“
“Shut up, bitch, I ain’t tryin’-a please you,” Nutter said. “You come back here again, and I’ll fist you, punk.”
Rob just nodded and followed Officer Budinsky out. He pretended his ass hurt as he walked past the other inmates.
“Was that everything you thought it was gonna be?” Officer Budinsky asked once they were out of Cell Block Alpha.
“No,” Rob said. “It was completely different, and so much better.”

The Prison Guard Bottoms

Ramon is a flamboyant twink behind bars, but his release is coming up soon. That’s when a guard brings him a special visitor… Barrack Zales is a new prison guard caught smuggling in drugs, which means he’s in for a special punishment.

This is a punishment that Ramon is gonna enjoy doling out!

Read it now as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

The night before Ramon’s release date, he couldn’t sleep. He had been dreaming of this day for what felt like a lifetime. He tossed and turned. It was the worst night in the state prison since his very first, when Ramon wept and trembled in fear until dawn.
Now he thought he should feel good about his imminent release, and a part of him certainly did. But a part of him also wept and trembled in fear until dawn yet again. He didn’t know what he was going to do when he walked out those doors. He didn’t have a plan, aside from the vague boilerplate “integration plan” he had come up with during his legally-mandated meetings with a parole officer.
When the first rays of sunlight came through the tiny window in one corner of his cell, Ramon’s heart skipped a beat. He got up and paced since he couldn’t sleep anyway. He could only walk three feet back and forth in his cell, so it his pacing was subpar, but that was the best that could be managed in his rinky-dink prison cell.
Footsteps echoed in the silent corridor of the protective-custody cell block. There were three guards — including Officer Uglymug — escorting another uniformed guard that Ramon didn’t recognize. The other guard appeared to be new, with a clean uniform and an unfaded ID badge, polished black boots and an insecure swagger.
Was he under arrest? His hands were behind his back as though handcuffed, but Ramon couldn’t see whether they were.
Ramon’s anxiety about his imminent release diminished as he tried to figure out what was happening. Newly-hired guards sometimes thought they could smuggle drugs in and sell it to the inmates easily, since that happened in the movies all the time. But the state prison had ways of preventing that, and it was common for new guards to work a day or two and then be seen leaving the prison in handcuffs (they never served a sentence here).
Officer Uglymug opened the door to Ramon’s cell. He smiled broadly. “You are one lucky sissy, Mister Mercado,” he said. “Meet Barrack Zales, a former guard here.”
Barrack smiled wanly at Ramon. “Congratulations on your release,” Barrack said. His voice was deep and gruff, and he sounded confident, but it was a faux confidence, like he really was insecure but tried to hide it.
“Thanks, Officer Zales,” Ramon said.
“Don’t call him that,” murmured Uglymug. “He ain’t an officer.”
“Oh… Okay, well, then, Barrack,” Ramon said. He stuck his hand out to shake, but Barrack was handcuffed, so all he could do was nod back.
“Barrack here thought he could smuggle heroin into my prison,” Officer Uglymug said. “He wanted to get inmates like you addicted so he could profit off you-“
“That ain’t what I was planning!”
“Oh? What was your plan again?”
“I was… I mean… I wasn’t gettin’ no one addicted,” he said. “I was just gonna sell…”
“You were going to sell drugs at inflated prices to people who would otherwise be in rehab, but aren’t since they get drugs from you,” Officer Uglymug said. “Can you explain the morality of that to me? It sure sounds-“
“Okay, we’ve been over this, man. I’m doing what you want,” Barrack said. He rolled his eyes.
Officer Uglymug stared daggers at Barrack until the silence was so thick it could be stabbed with a shiv. Then he turned back to Ramon and smiled again. “But we decided to spare the taxpayers the expense of a trial. We think you can, uh… well, insert the law into Zales through the asshole, and I figured that’d be a good going-away present for you too.”
Another long silence filled the cell. Ramon cleared his throat. “So… you want me to cornhole him? Instead of being arrested, he gets it up the ass from me?”
Barrack flared his nostrils. “I’ll do whatever you want, man.” He flexed his biceps the best he could with his wrists handcuffed behind his back, and his big bear-like pecs jiggled beneath his uniform shirt. “I don’t care.” Despite his words, it sounded like he did care very much. He looked nervous and vaguely ill. He ignored it as Uglymug undid the buttons of his uniform shirt, which couldn’t come off without removing the handcuffs, but Uglymug let the shirt fall off his shoulders behind his back.
Ramon sighed. “Hell yeah, come on in, Barrack. I’ll do you so good you decide to go to prison for fun.”
Officer Uglymug laughed, but Barrack bristled and rolled his eyes, staying put until Uglymug shoved him forward. The Uglymug closed the door behind him. He remained outside Ramon’s cell though, watching through the cell bars.
“Can I get the handcuffs off?”
“No,” Uglymug said. He stood there with his arms folded over his chest once again.
Barrack straightened his back, towering over Ramon. He struggled against the handcuffs on his wrists, muscles bulging as though he was seriously trying to tear the handcuffs apart with his raw strength.
“Well, I guess… Why don’t we get started?” Ramon said. He pulled down the fly of Barrack’s uniform slacks and removed his throbbing slab of thick dickmeat.
One “good” (relatively speaking) part of coming to the state prison was that Ramon got to show off his substantial dick. Everyone assumed that since he was a little man, he had a small cock, and Ramon was glad to prove them wrong. It had been enough to make him into a celebrity on his first day. The Aryans called him the “Mexican wit’ a big prick”.
Now Barrack sighed and shook his head when he saw it. He looked away, and he gulped.
The tension in the cell remained thick, as Ramon gently picked up Barrack’s meaty member. He swayed it back and forth in his hand. It was thick and juicy, and it made Ramon lick his lips. Then Ramon walloped Barrack’s dick with his own, and they sword-fought there — well, Ramon did, Barrack stayed still like a stone statue, wrinkling his nose, keeping his chin high, like he was pretending not to notice Ramon smashed both limp cocks together. Ramon liked the feel of Barrack’s fat limpness rubbing against his own, leaving a layer of masculine sweat and grime. The tension in the cell diminished, replaced by a comfortable arousal. Ramon’s hands roamed all over Barrack’s body.
When he got to Barrack’s nipples, he tweaked one, then the other, then both, and Barrack twitched. His pecs rippled. Barrack bucked, and Uglymug laughed out loud.
“You seriously uncomfortable with that shit, huh? You were never gonna like workin’ here,” Officer Uglymug said with a big grin on his face. “Can’t be squeamish if you gonna be a prison guard.”
Ramon kept jousting with Barrack, who faced away from him, his body stiff but tense. Ramon’s cock was firming up, so their jousting turned rapidly from dickfat jiggling together to Ramon stabbing his erection into Barrack’s soft cock and trimmed pubes. Barrack wrinkled his nose.
“Get on your knees,” Ramon said, then added, “Bitch!” Uglymug reacted with thunderous applause.
Barrack sneered and lunged like he was going to punch Ramon, but his arms were still handcuffed, so Ramon held firm. He didn’t flinch. Barrach growled.
“Get on your knees,” Ramon said again.
Barrack gritted his teeth and sunk to the ground on his knees. His eyes narrowed into slits aimed up at Ramon.
He was still much too tall to swallow Ramon’s dick like that. Ramon stood there with his hands on his hips. Even on his knees, Barrack’s face was even with Ramon’s bellybutton. Ramon rubbed his erect dick between Barrack’s massive pectoral muscles. Barrack ignored it.
“Ya gettin’ titty-humped, nigga,” Officer Uglymug said. “I think you’re gonna have to go lower than that to swallow his dick.”
“Take your time though,” Ramon said with a smirk. He really meant that, he was enjoying humping Barrack’s muscles. He wasn’t gonna cum like that, but Ramon was in no hurry. Anything to distract from the stress of his imminent relase was worth it. His dick rubbed on Barrack’s sternum, which made his pecs ripple, so Ramon switched to thwacked his erection on the meat of Barrack’s muscle.
Barrack scowled but did open his mouth. He stooped over and took Ramon’s stiff dick past his lips. He gagged loudly, and spit choked down Ramon’s shaft, which he spat out. There was something defiant in his gag, like he was proving that he couldn’t do this.
Little did he know — or maybe he did know — that a gag wasn’t gonna stop Ramon Mercado. Gagging made Barrack’s muscles flex, and it sent a squeezing shiver of pleasure up Ramon’s spine. He smiled.
When Barrack had regained his composure, Ramon rammed his dick in, laughing as Barrack sputtered, eyes opening wide. Ramon’s cock throbbed in his throat, and since he was handcuffed, with his arms behind his back, he could do nothing but submit while Ramon drilled into him.
“Yeah, make him choke!”
“Hmmm…” Ramon gripped Barrack by the head and pushed his dick in, not throating him down like a lot of men in this prison do — Ramon had found his mouth was in strong demand during his time here — but more making love to his throat, humping his tongue, and making sure Barrack tasted Ramon’s cock with every inch of his mouth.
“Gag him! Gag him! Gag him!” Uglymug chanted
The tightness of Barrack’s throat was exhilarating. Every time he gagged on Ramon’s cock, it sent a wave of pleasure through Ramon’s body. He moaned and blushed at how intense his reactions were. He hadn’t topped anyone since well before coming to this prison, so it was nice to experience a hot mouth on his cock again, even if it was unwilling.
Copious spit leaked out his mouth, as Barrack was unable or unwilling to swallow anything. He drooled up on Ramon’s shaft, his whole body buckling when he gagged. Ramon was gentle now that he was getting into it, forcing — gently — oh so gently — his cock down Barrack’s throat. When he did it slow enough, Barrack was unable to spit it out, as he could only retch.
Ramon was in charge of his gullet though. He forced his cock down there then held it in place, as he played with Barrack’s face and head. He had handsome features, big ones too, Barrack was a large man with a big head and big everything on it. Ramon’s petite hands played with his nose, his cheekbones, his chin, his ears, and Barrack glowered and simmered, erupting in a furious choke every few seconds.
At last, Ramon pulled his cock outta Barrack’s mouth, quickly lest he bust his nut. He did not want to finish this until he had gotten up Barrack’s behind.
“Lay down on your back, here on the bunk,” Ramon said. He blushed as he pointed to his bunk.
When Barrack hesitated, Ramon frowned. Officer Uglymug pulled out his cattle prod, which made Barrack roll his eyes and shake. He struggled to fit his broad body into the bunk. He was too tall, so his feet had to curl up so that his head could rest over the edge, and it was difficult to balance himself with his hands still cuffed behind his back.
“Up like this, so I can really get deep in that throat,” Ramon said. He lightly tapped Barrack’s cheeks, then leaned down and kissed him on the lips. Barrack had nice, full lips and a big tongue, which lay in his mouth like a dead fish. He didn’t kiss Ramon back. He just stayed limp as Ramon explored his mouth.
When his burgeoning orgasm had died down, Ramon placed his spit-dripping cock right at the entrance to Barrack’s mouth. Barrack’s lower lip quivered — it was his upper lip at the moment, because his head dangled upside-down over the end of the bed — as Ramon wiped precum off on his handsome face.
His chin and cheeks were smoothly shaved. Ramon slid his dick over the man’s face until Barrack’s entire face glistened with pearly white pre-cum. He gagged every few seconds even when Ramon pulled his dick away, as the smell of precum had seeped into his skin. Ramon thwacked his erection on Barrack’s nose.
There was a symbol of three claws tattooed onto Barrack’s neck. Ramon rubbed them with one thumb as he played with the precum on Barrack’s face.
“What’s the significance of this tattoo?”
Barrack bit his lip. “It’s a gangsta thing. You wouldn’t understand.”
“You’re a gangsta?!” Officer Uglymug barked angrily. “What? Why did they even hire you? You got a fuckin’ neck tattoo…”
“Fuck you, Uglymug.”
“Shut up, you don’t get to call me that,” Uglymug said.
“You fuckin’ bitch-ass-!” Barrack’s shouts were muffled moments later by Ramon’s balls, which dropped right into Barrack’s mouth. They were sensitive, and his mouth sent tingles of sensation up Ramon’s body, but Ramon did so mainly to shut him up. He didn’t want this to turn into a fight between Barrack and Uglymug. Ramon could end up blueballed.
Instantly Barrack gagged on the sweaty ballflesh coating his tongue and slipping into his throat. His mouth quivered and the fluids pooled there, a mixture of Barrack’s and Ramon’s bodily secretions filling up Barrack’s mouth. Barrack’s mouth filled and overflowed with drool and ballsweat, as all his muscles flexed when he struggled not to retch. Ramon’s balls filled his mouth and tickled his throat.
“Gargle, motherfucker,” Ramon said. He had to repeat himself as Officer Uglymug turned the cattle prod on again before Barrack did so.
He wasn’t able to gargle in any meaningful sense, because as soon as he moved his tongue at all, he gagged profusely. He spat up a giant ball of spit that landed on the uniform pants he still wore. Ramon wiped up all the saliva he could with one hand and smeared it over Barrack’s face.
“You are one nasty shit,” Officer Uglymug said, as though he was both impressed and sympathetic to Barrack’s struggle.
“Open your mouth wider,” Ramon said. He demonstrated an open mouth. Barrack had a large mouth by nature, but Ramon thought he could do better. “Open that mouth, bitch.”
Barrack looked away, then scrunched his eyes shut.
“Nah. Look me in the eye like the bitch you are,” Ramon said. He was petite, even effeminate, so he knew he sounded ridiculous calling someone else a bitch. But that was what made it so humiliating for Barrack.
“Shut up,” Barrack muttered, his voice weak cuz he was struggling not to gag. He closed his eyes and opened his mouth wide.
“Let’s see how this does,” Ramon said. He pushed his dick in slowly, dragging it out so Barrack tasted every drop of salty precum on his tongue. Barrack held out until his nose nestled into Ramon’s crotch. His throat squeezed around Ramon’s shaft. But Ramon was relentless — he had been a bottom in prison for years, so he knew a lot of tricks to force someone into deep-throating a huge cock.
“That was pretty good deep-throating,” Ramon said, as he let his erection slide out so Barrack could take a breath. “You’re learning… Good job.”
“You fuckin’ pansy!” Barrack screamed.
“That was rude,” Ramon said with a laugh. “I’ll give you a choice for this next part. Do you want to lick my ass? Or would you rather drink some piss?”
“Fuck you!”
“Both? Really? Officer Uglymug, did he really say he wanted to both lick asshole and drink piss?”
“That’s what I heard. He said, ‘I love licking prostates, almost as much as I love drinking urine.’ I heard him say that,” Officer Uglymug said with a chuckle. “Thought it was weird, but you know… I don’t like to judge.”
“That was a really good impression, Officer Uglymug. Sounded exactly like him,” Ramon said. He paused. “Maybe you can help with this. My dick is hard, and I’m not sure I can piss.”
“I’d be glad to assist, inmate,” Uglymug said. He pulled out his thick cock, and he left it dangling out the fly of his uniform slacks.
“Stick your tongue out, bitch,” Ramon said. When Barrack didn’t immediately comply, Ramon grabbed his tongue with his fingers and pulled. He had a notably long tongue, at least two inches sticking well out of his mouth. Ramon shuddered with anticipation. He had never gotten a rimjob like this. “Keep your tongue out. Remember when folks say you gotta lick ass, that isn’t really what they mean. You gotta stick your tongue inside my ass and lick the insides. Not the asscheek. There’s no point to licking an asscheek. Got that?”
Barrack wiped away tears from his eyes. “Please! I-“
“That was a yes or no question. Do you understand?”
“Yes!”
“Good. Keep that tongue out. Move it around,” Ramon said. He faced his pale, smooth ass at Barrack’s face. “Move your tongue around.” He laughed as Barrack wiggled his tongue. Then Ramon planted his ass on Barrack’s face.
Barrack bucked and screamed into Ramon’s asshole. His tongue flickered away at first, then gingerly touched Ramon’s hole. He gagged as Ramon’s ass-sweat dripped into his mouth.
“Get that tongue in there,” Ramon said. He did not expect a real rimjob, but it was fun to try, and the delay meant he moved further away from the orgasm he could feel gathering deep within.
Barrack struggled to make himself do it. His big tongue pushed into the hole, then out, then back in again. Each time he penetrated Ramon’s asshole, a wave of pleasure washed over Ramon’s body.
Grinding his hips to get his ass lower, Ramon managed to literally sit on Barrack’s face. With Barrack laying on his back on the bunk, Ramon was supported entirely by his head, by his tongue sliding in and out of his slippery asshole.
Ramon’s dick twitched and spasmed. Precum dripped from his shaft. Ramon threw his head back and moaned. He could have cum like this, from the intense pleasure emanating from his prostate. But he didn’t want to.
He pulled away just in the nick of time. Barrack hoarsely belched and gasped for air. He sat up and took a deep breath. His reddish face looked away from Ramon until Ramon pulled on his handcuffs to get his attention.
“Look me in the eye! Beg me for more ass!”
“Please… Please… Uh, Inmate… Please… Let me lick your ass some more.”
“What did I say? Are you supposed to be licking my ass?”
“I mean… Let me lick your rectum or whatever,” Barrack said. Tears winkled in his eyes. He turned to Officer Uglymug. “Please… You can arrest me. I would rather be on trial. Please!”
“Too late now,” Officer Uglymug said. “Besides, you don’t wanna know how they’d treat you when you are convicted. At least this will only last one day, Zales. You ready to drink some piss?”
“No!”
“Well, here it comes,” Officer Uglymug said. He had his hoggish prick out and aimed towards the bunk. After just a moment’s silence, he began pissing, a long, solid stream of acrid yellow piss arcing all the way to the bunk. It soaked into the mattress.
It landed on Barrack’s leg. He squirmed and looked away, then he saw Ramon’s harsh glare. His big, muscled body crept forward and to the ground. He opened his mouth right in the stream of piss, which dripped from his face.
“Alright, lemme take a turn on that ass,” Ramon muttered, as Uglymug was finishing up his stream of piss. He pulled away from Barrack’s mouth and got behind him. Barrack didn’t seem to notice since he was focused on the bitter piss filling his mouth and spilling past his lips. He sputtered and spewed, and he twisted around on the now-soaked mattress.
Barrack had such a wide, broad back that Ramon could barely wrap his arms around it. With his dick wedged between Barrack’s toned asscheeks, Ramon couldn’t reach Barrack’s nipples — it was like climbing onto a great beast whose muscles rippled beneath Ramon’s tiny body.
“What are you doing?!” Barrack screamed as Officer Uglymug finished pissing. Barrack’s face dripped. Since he was in the midst of a furious storm of retches, his asshole wasn’t clenched tight.
A loud pained croaking sound ripped out of Barrack’s throat as Ramon forced his dick in. He pushed it in farther and farther while Barrack squirmed and cried out. With his body unprepared for the sensation, Ramon got most of his cock in before Barrack instinctively tightened his asshole
That made it feel even better. Ramon loved the sensation of Barrack’s entire musculature tightening as he tried to buck Ramon off him. But Ramon just held on tight, his feet no longer on the floor. Barrack roared and screamed.
Ramon had no idea how long that lasted. He held on as Barrack wiggled and squirmed. Ramon couldn’t really ram back and forth at all, he had no leverage with which to move his body. He just gripped Barrack’s muscles and kept his cock all the way in Barrack’s ass, while the writhing of Barrack’s powerful body massaged pleasure into Ramon’s cock.
“God damn, man… Get off me!” Barrack screamed.
Then he went down, and his asshole clenched even tighter again as Officer Zales zapped Barrack with the cattle prod. The tingling of his skin was palpable, and Ramon even squirmed as the electricity poured through him as well.
But it was just a little buzz for Ramon — those cattle prods weren’t set to a strong shock — while Barrack screamed and collapsed into a sweaty, piss-covered heap of limp muscle on the bunk. His entire body tightened and stayed tense.
“There you go, good…” Ramon whispered into Barrack’s sweat-covered face. He began pistoning his hips, slamming his cock in over and over. Barrack’s asshole was clenched tight, but Ramon didn’t care, and he had already torn through his ass once. Barrack couldn’t do anything to stop him as Ramon pounded away at his plump behind.
The sound of Barrack’s tears were music to Ramon’s ears — he had spent years enduring the jeers and taunting of the other guards. He had been extorted and beaten and even worse, and now he got to hear a guard (or a former guard anyway) going through the same tortures.
“At least you get to leave here too,” Ramon said. He hoped his point was getting through to Barrack, but the man was sobbing hard enough that Ramon wasn’t sure he could hear.
Every time Ramon’s cock reached the deepest depths of Barrack’s ass, Barrack’s entire well-muscled body flexed and contorted like he was having a seizure. Sprawled out on the bunk he could do little more than writhe as Ramon slammed his ass again and again.
Finally Ramon could put it off no longer. An orgasm ripped through his body, so powerful it made him gnaw like a baby on Barrack’s shoulder. He grunted. Barrack roared and Ramon barked. They both tensed as Barrack clenched his ass around Ramon’s dick, which spurted a flood of cum into his tight asshole.
It was a huge load, having built up over the last few days — Ramon wasn’t in general population since he was about to be released, so he hadn’t had busted a nut. He hadn’t even masturbated because he hoped to fuck a woman s soon as he was released, and he wanted to have a big buildup of cum. He was glad to have saved it up for something special like this.
He twitched as his passion drained away like the last drops of cum that filled Barrack’s ass. Ramon stayed right there in position, giggling at Barrack’s exhausted choking, as his dick slowly limpened inside Barrack’s ass.
“Do you regret your actions?” Ramon asked. He crawled forward to wipe his ass-dripping cock off on Barrack’s face and lips.
“I do! I’m sorry! I’ll never try anything like it again,” Barrack said. He winced but opened his mouth and even extended his tongue to suck the filth of his own ass off Ramon’s cock. His skin was still so sensitive Ramon shuddered, his knees weakening. Barrack’s tongue sent him to new heights of pleasure, as Ramon experienced the final aftershocks of his climax.
“Good,” Ramon said. He leaned back and took a deep breath of the cum-scented air. He sat on Barrack’s muscled chest.
“You better get your clothes together, both of you,” Officer Uglymug said. “I”m takin’ you both for showers. You’re both going home today, and hopefully, neither of you are coming back.”

Naked in New Zealand

Rob is visiting New Zealand when he runs across a surfing young Maori man who needs a few dollars for a new surfboard… or maybe a lot of dollars! Rob is all too happy to help him out with a hand, a mouth and maybe even more, giving this Kiwi the thrill of a lifetime!

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“Hey, have you boys ever heard of The Talltops?” Rob Winthrop asked the foursome of young kiwis. The Talltops were an all-Maori ukulele-based pop band, well-known locally, or so the Talltops’s social media claimed. Rob was here to investigate the truth of that.
All four erupted in cheers and laughter. It was too much too quickly for Rob to hear what they said. One of them must have made a joke because they all laughed, and there was some shoving too. One of them, the handsome one, nearly fell over into the sand.
“Hell yeah, mate, they’re famous as, around here,” said one.
“Yeah, everyone listens to them,” said the handsome one. He had a thick curly mane of black hair sticking above his head. His skin glistened with the sea spray. He had been surfing recently, it seemed, and he carried two halves of a broken surfboard. He glanced wistfully at the ocean, just maybe thirty meters away. The waves crashed audibly against the beach, which Rob always thought was such a peaceful, joyous sound, it was a strange contrast with the rambunctious tomfoolery of these young surfers.
“Shut up, Joseph, don’t pretend you know what you’re talking about. You never heard of them three months ago, and now you’re talking like you’re their biggest fan-” said the first.
The handsome one, Joseph, playfully thwacked his friend with his broken skateboard. “Fuck you, mate, I never said I liked them longer than anyone-“
“Okay, okay, don’t fight, guys,” Rob said before punches were about to be thrown. “I just wanted to know. What are some other local bands you like?”
“Who the hell are you, eh?”
“Are you American?”
“No, no, my name is Rob Winthrop, I’m a scout for a small record label,” Rob said.
They all nodded. “You’re looking for a band?”
“We play! I know guitar and that.”
“I write songs!”
“No, no, sorry guys,” Rob said. He threw his hands up. “Not like that. We’re only looking for established bands with a following. I can’t sign anyone without thousands of Facebook and Twitter followers. Not you personally, the band’s followers. I have to justify my acquisitions to my boss. I think The Talltops are the only band I can consider around here.”
They grumbled and looked down at their feet. No one said anything. They all shared knowing glances with each other, leaving Rob to feel left out.
“What happened to your surfboard?” Rob asked Joseph when the silence became too awkward.
“Busted it, mate,” Joseph said as though it should have been obvious. He pointed to one of the others. “It was his fault-“
“Was not, dickweed!”
“You want a new one?” Rob asked.
“Cheers, broah! A new surfboard, eh?”
Rob nodded. “All you have to do is stick your dick in my ass.”
As Rob expected, there was a long awkward silence and then an outpouring of laughter. Joseph turned so deep red his face looked like an overripe strawberry. He was naturally swarthy, just light enough that his blushing could be seen. His friends all tried to pat him on the ass — he was sitting down on a sandy brick wall, so they just felt up his back instead. He bristled and winced and pushed them away.
“Wait, you serious, mate?”
“I’ll buy you any surfboard you want.”
“The Hemanawa, eh.” He said it as though he had been waiting for this moment. He chuckled. “Sorry, mate, I know that’s-“
“Fine.” Rob shrugged.
He looked at Rob like he never expected Rob would agree to that. “What? That costs heaps! Eleven hundred dollars, mate.”
“Fine,” Rob said. He blushed. “I can afford it. We’ll go to that beach shower over there, your friends can be lookouts.”
“Ew, gross-!”
“No way!”
“I’ll pay you guys fifty bucks each to be lookout,” Rob said. Despite their reluctance moments before, they each raced to agree. Rob smiled. “What do you say, Joseph?”
“Do it! Do it! Do it!”
“Yeah, mate, do it!”
Joseph smiled wanly and nodded. “Fine. Okay. I’ll do it, mate. I’ll… you can’t stick nothing in me, right? I’m not touching your dick and that, eh.”
“Yeah, fine. I just jerk you off and you ram me in the ass,” Rob said. “That’s it.”
He nodded and led Rob to the beach shower. This was not a highly trafficked area of beach with no bachs nearby, so the shower was empty. It was an open-air shower with wooden walls. Rob loved to mess around in a place like this, and this was the first time he could actually make it happen.
Rob sunk to his knees and pulled down Joseph’s shorts. A fat, uncut cock popped out, a deep brown color like a tan macadamia nut. Joseph chuckled. His wide-brown face was dappled in sweat.
“How is it, broah?”
Joseph grumbled. He couldn’t keep still as Rob kissed his cocktip. There was something delightfully immature in the way he fidgeted, shifting his weight on his feet, bringing his hands together and apart, stroking his forehead and running his fingers through his curly black hair. When he smiled nervously, his deep dimples were apparent.
“So, wow… you’re serious as, mate?”
That made Rob laugh too. “You waited until your cock was in my mouth to ask if I was serious? I’d say at this point, you have your answer, Joseph.”
He smiled. “Yeah…”
“Have you ever done this before?” Rob asked. He flopped Joseph’s limp cock over his face. It was big and fleshy, uncut, smelling vaguely of sea-spray, sand and sunlight, or maybe that was just the Pacific Ocean a few meters away.
Joseph frowned. “No! No, mate,” he said. Then he checked that his buddies couldn’t see or hear — they stood on the other side of the doorway, whispering in hushed tones — and he whispered, “Yeah.” He held up two fingers. He mouthed the words “two times”.
Rob nodded. Now that he was swallowing it deeply and moistly, Joseph’s cock began to perk up. It stiffened in Rob’s mouth, and Joseph let out a muffled moan.
“There he goes, are you cumming already, Joseph?”
“I bet he is, his girlfriend told me he got that premature ejaculation-“
“Heaps quick-“
“Shut up out there!” Joseph called out. He grinned broadly. He grabbed one of the halves of his surfboard and threw it over the wall of the showerhouse. When he did, his cock spasmed in Rob’s mouth and precum exploded on Rob’s tongue, as though the only reason he hadn’t already started to leak precum was that he was nervous and distracted. Now that he focused on throwing the surfboard, his cock moistened and slickened, sliding directly down Rob’s throat.
Rob moaned around the knob in his mouth. Joseph and his buddies began throwing rocks over the wall back and forth at each other. They were just small pebbles, so when they hit Rob, they didn’t hurt. Joseph howled through, when one hit him on the lip. A few drops of blood appeared.
“Quit it, mate!”
“You started it, Joseph!”
“I’m trying to make money, and you lot are getting paid heaps too! You should be supporting me!”
“Way to go, Joseph! You’re an excellent rentboy! Hardout!”
“I’ll tell your mom how good you are at bludging with your tiny dick. Finally, a skill!”
“I got skills, mate! I can outsurf you drongos!” Joseph bellowed over the wall. He stood on his toes to get as close to his friends as possible, which forced Rob to lift himself up on his knees as high in order to keep at his dick. Joseph also moved closer to the wall, slamming Rob against it. Joseph’s hips kept moving like he was desperate to get deep in Rob’s mouth, but Joseph’s upper half seemed to have forgotten that’s what was happening. Joseph tried to climb the wall without removing his shaft from Rob’s throat, as his dick pulsated and spewed precum into Rob’s belly.
Joseph — bending over sideways so he didn’t have to remove his cock from Rob’s mouth — grabbed a discarded jandal off the ground. He tossed that over the wall. There was some shouting and an annoyed grunt.
“Ow, that hit me on the mouth, Joseph!”
Joseph laughed. “Why was your mouth open?” He had his hands on his hips, looking up at the wall. “Huh? Whose cock was in there?”
“Only one of us is doing that right now, mate.”
“It’s the Maori way!” Joseph said. “As long as you’re on top-“
“Oh now he’s interested in Maori ways. Hey, broah, don’t let him make you think he’s really Maori. In grade five it took him so long to say Aotearoa he started crying. The teacher called him a retard.”
“Nah-ah!” Joseph screamed. He looked down at Rob and blushed. “That wasn’t the teacher, who called me a retard, you’re wrong! Idiot! I had a speech problem. I had a speech therapist.” He chuckled. “I am Maori. I just don’t speak Maori. None of them speak it either.”
“I do!”
“You take classes on it cuz you like teacher’s cock-“
“Shut up!”
Rob was annoyed that Joseph kept moving around — he had stopped watching Rob, so he didn’t realize that Rob was bobbing and weaving all over the place trying to keep the taste of Joseph’s meat on his tongue.
“Oh,” Joseph said. He sighed. “Sorry. Are you, like… turned on by Maoris? You can call me Hohepa if you want. That’s my Maori name.”
“No it isn’t, broah. Hohepa is just the Maori version of Joseph. No one calls him that.”
“It’s not a big deal,” Rob said. He just wished Joseph would calm down and focus on his dick. He seemed to be looking for opportunities to distract himself.
“Oh, good, good,” Joseph said. He hesitated. “My older brother says there are American chicks who come to New Zealand because they want to pay Maori men for sex and that. He said he made heaps for screwing hot Californian chicks, eh. But he said you have to have a Maori accent and dance the haka and stuff,” He sighed. “Is that…?”
“Joseph, I’m not American and I’m not a chick,” Rob said. “But no, I don’t think that’s true.”
“Your brother is a useless fat drunk, Joseph. He doesn’t get laid by hot American chicks. He doesn’t even get laid by hot Australian chicks.”
“Your brother is s sad sac like you are, Joseph!”
“Hey, fuck you, mate!” Joseph said with a big belly laugh. He again tried to throw something over the wall at his friends, but this time, the thing he grabbed was his own swim trunks — togs. Rob really wanted to focus on playing with Joseph’s sweet, tropical-tasting cock and his potent salty precum, but he had to laugh and roll his eyes at that.
“Joseph… why did you throw your trunks over?”
Joseph closed his eyes and groaned. He smiled sheepishly, dick twitching on Rob’s lips. “I forgot that was the only clothes I had in here. I was gonna throw my boxers at them but I’m not wearing any. The togs are my underwear. Hey, give them back! Hey! Hey!”
Rob sighed and sat back. Sometimes, the drawback to jerking off hot young jocks and immature alphas like Joseph was that they were young and immature, like Joseph. Joseph didn’t even seem to notice that he was getting a nut off right now.
He jumped around on his feet, dancing as he looked for stuff to throw out of the showering area. His erect cock flopped around, dripping precum everywhere. He found a handful of pebbles and threw them over.
“Hey, fuckheads!”
But his friends mostly didn’t respond. They were being quiet. Rob sighed and leaned back against the shower wall.
“Hey!” Joseph jumped up and grabbed the top of the wall. He peered over the edge and held on. “Hey, they’re throwing my togs in the ocean! Hey! Quit it! Hey! Hey! Bring that back, broah! Hey! Quit playing!”
“Relax, Joseph, relax, I’ll buy you new trunks,” Rob said. “Relax, man, okay? Just relax. Chill out.”
Joseph hung from the top of the wall. His plump, tight little ass faced Rob, while Joseph yelled across the beach at his friends. He gave no indication of listening to Rob.
Rob rolled his eyes and kissed one of Joseph’s asscheeks. His skin was taut, powerful muscles brimmin beneath the surface. Now wonder he could jump all the way up to grab the edge of the wall, Rob thought, with thigh- and ass-muscle like this. That must come from surfing.
“Oh, whoah, broah, what are ya doing?” Joseph asked with a nervous squeal like a surprised piglet. He peered behind himself to watch Rob’s face dive between his cheeks. His ass tasted very strong of seawater, so salty and astringent it brought tears to Rob’s eyes.
But it tasted clean too, warm and inviting, musky, coconutty, like some hot exotic dessert filled with fruits Rob had never tasted. He teased the rim of Joseph’s asshole, making him shudder and turn red. Still he hung from the wall.
“You’re gonna be stuck in there forever, Joseph!”
His shorts just washed up again.
“Hey, wait a sec, I’ll be back. I need to bash them,” Joseph dropped back to his feet, darted around Rob and out of the showers. His hard cock jutted straight out and bobbed around as he ran.
He surprised his friends, who were not near the doorway — they had clustered near the wall where Joseph was poking over the edge — and ran past them. Rob rolled his eyes as he watched, peering carefully around the corner of the showerhouse entrance.
Joseph was fast. He was short, but he had long legs and he had a head-start on his friends. He made it to the waves first, picked up his dark red shorts and held onto them like a championship trophy. His massive cock was bare, erect and still dripping — either seawater or precum or both, Joseph couldn’t tell.
Then one of the other surfing Maoris tackled him. Joseph was knocked into the spray, and the whole bunch of them went down in a tangle of limbs. Rob wanted more than anything to go over to them and dive in as well — it must be glorious, he thought, laying there on the pristine beach wrestling with the bodies of a bunch of surfing jocks.
They were wrestling, elbowing and kneeing each other. It would probably hurt to be in the pile — Rob wasn’t a young tough buck like Joseph, he couldn’t handle that.
They didn’t seem too worried about accidentally touching Joseph’s naked body. Joseph and his friends did not have any aversion to naked wrestling, at least not until they realized Rob was watching them.
Then they came back to the beach shower. Rob was excited to see that the swim trunks were torn to shreds. He was annoyed to see that Joseph had lost his erection.
“Hey, mate, come buy me the surfboard now and new togs,” Joseph said. He wagged his dick between his fingers, aiming it at the surf shop just a few meters away from the showers. “Let’s hurry this up. I don’t want you to shoot through when I’m done.”
He didn’t wait for Rob to answer, he just headed over to the shop. He was confidently naked, his massive dick swaying between his legs. That was no doubt why he was so confident, Rob thought. He was probably glad for an excuse to make everyone see his dick.
“Holy shit, he’s doing it! He’s going in there naked!”
“He’s blue-ballin’ himself!”
“I am not, I’ll be done in a minute and I’ll ram that broah so hard his mum feels it,” Joseph said as he opened the door. “The fucking cold water messed with me anyway, I need a minute.” He chuckled. He opened the door and strode in.
“Hey! Joseph! No pranks! No hazing!” the shopkeeper bellowed and pointed towards the door. “Put your clothes on, Joseph!”
“I’m keen for some, mate,” Joseph said. He grabbed a pair of blue swim trunks and placed them on the counter. “I’m here to buy togs.”
“You have money now? I’m not haggling, Joseph.”
“He’s got a sugar-daddy.”
Rob stepped forward. “Hi. We’re in a hurry. Just the shorts and-“
“The Hemanawa.” Joseph crossed his arms over his chest. He smiled proudly.
The shopkeeper looked at Rob like a math equation that didn’t add up. “Are you really his sugar daddy? Does that mean what I think…? Nevermind, don’t tell me. The Hemanawa is very expensive.”
“I know.”
“And this.” Joseph grabbed a tin of surfboard wax and put it on the counter.
“Hey, broah, can I get a long surfboard too, eh?”
“Oh yeah, we can share it! We don’t use long boards, but we could all try it! C’mon, broah!”
Rob blushed and nodded. “Wait,” he said. “I’ll buy you all a long board, but you have to share it. And Joseph, you have to-” He cut himself off by grabbing Joseph by the six-packed torso and kissing him right on the lips. The others, including the shopkeeper, all guffawed and hooted. Joseph’s face turned bright red.
Joseph didn’t resist, he was just stiff. His muscles tensed up. He allowed Rob to kiss him, and he let Rob’s fingers roam over his body. Joseph shuddered.
When Rob finally pulled off him — Joseph’s friends had piled add-ons onto the counter: surfboard wax, some sort of coconut candy, iPhone earbuds, some tobacco for durries and a case of beer. Rob planted his lips on Joseph’s smooth neck. Joseph bristled and giggled nervously. He stood up straight as Rob withdrew his credit card with one hand, his other roaming down Joseph’s bare ass.
The shopkeeper grumbled. “Don’t you ever come in my store naked again, Joseph,” he said. He smiled at Rob. “Come again, sir.”
“Chur broah!”
“Sweet as, mate.”
It was thousand of dollars worth of stuff, and Rob hadn’t even paid the other guys for watching the showers yet. Rob couldn’t believe he had been talking in to spending so much. He didn’t mind the money, it was just that he knew by now — it was very obvious — that Joseph wouldn’t have required much convincing. Rob could have given him a hundred bucks, and Joseph probably would have seen that as more than enough.
But still, Rob wouldn’t have gotten all these perks, he thought as he leapt onto Joseph’s back — his friends had suggested Joseph carry him back to the showerhouse. Rob was clothed, but his rock-hard dick pressed into the small of Joseph’s back as Joseph strained to carry him across the street into the showers. His shoulder muscles writhed beneath Rob’s touch.
“Okay, damn, my balls ache, hurry up, man,” Joseph said when they were back in the showers. “I wanna use that surfboard while the waves are still good.”
The others were already arguing about who got to use the long board first, which meant they were not paying attention when Joseph again leaned against the wall so Rob could jerk him off. Rob slunk once more to his knees, and he popped Joseph’s knob in his mouth. But Rob had no sooner made contact with his dick before Joseph was hard all over again.
“Are you ready to ram me?”
“Hell yeah,” he said. Despite his words, he looked nervous. Joseph grimaced. “It’s a part of Maori culture. It’s okay if you’re on top. A real man should only ever be on top, like a conquering warrior.” He shrugged. “It’s okay for you to be on the bottom, that’s… You haven’t lost a battle, it’s just-“
“I know. I don’t need an explanation, Joseph,” Rob said. “Just stick it in.” He bent over and aimed his bare ass in Joseph’s direction.
“Pork him, Joseph! Make him squeal like a piggie!”
Joseph shrugged and stroked his dick. He approached Rob’s ass and gingerly touched it. When it didn’t turn out to be gross, he got more confident. He spread Rob’s cheeks and wedged his dick in. He held his breath and winced with his eyes, despite his cocky demeanor.
“You doin’ it, Joseph? Hurry up, mate!”
“Shut up! Just be quiet, man, I can’t root with you blathering!” Joseph said, speaking with more confidence than he displayed.
Then his cock jolted into Rob’s ass. There was a burst of pain and pleasure, and both men stopped. Joseph’s leering grin disappeared.
“Oh god…” Rob’s voice broke. His asshole tingled and sang as Joseph slid a few inches of his smooth manhood into him. Rob backed his ass up the best he could, ignoring the strain as he accepted more and more of Joseph’s fat dick.
“Is, uh… that okay? Uh… I mean, you best take it. Bitch,” Joseph said in his best — though not very good — impression of an American rapper. He smacked Rob’s asscheek. “Are you-?” But the motion of Rob’s plump cheeks and the clenching of his ass around Joseph’s cock made Joseph’s voice break. He moaned and grunted. His friends laughed on the other side of the wall.
“Oh. I think broah broke him.”
“Joseph must love that American broah’s cock. It probably tastes like meatloaf.”
“Meeeatlooooaf!” One of the others said in what was presumably an attempt at an American accent. The guys outside the showerhouse kept making meatloaf references — it must be an inside joke, maybe a YouTube video, Rob thought. He didn’t think of meatloaf as characteristically American, but maybe to kiwis it was different.
“Fuck you!” Joseph called out. He tried to make his voice as deep and macho as possible, but he ended up sounding weak and wavering because he was wracked by spasms of pleasure shooting up his body. He bit his lip.
It sounded like Joseph had another retort ready, or at least that he wanted to have a retort ready, but he just moaned. His cock throbbed in Rob’s ass. He was balls-deep now, on the verge of cumming. Rob could feel precum flowing into him.
Then Rob shot his own load onto the shower floor. It was a thick, hot wad of cum, but Joseph didn’t notice it — which was probably a good thing, as it likely would have made him less comfortable.
“Hurry up, Joseph, or we’re gonna use your new board.”
“Better not,” Joseph said. “I’ll deal to you, heaps!” He either sounded serious because he was angry at the possibility they’d use his surfboard before he did or because he was so close to orgasming that he had to concentrate to speak at all. He closed his eyes and gasped for air.
Rob slammed his ass all the way back. He lifted his head up until his shoulders pressed against Joseph’s writhing chest muscles. Rob turned his head and kissed Joseph once more on the lips just as he felt a wave of cum flow into his ass.
Joseph didn’t seem to even notice the kiss. He had his eyes closed, and he held onto Rob’s body with both hands, as though searching for tits on his chest. Rob’s tongue snaked into Joseph’s quivering mouth.
It was a long, flowing load that filled up Rob’s ass. It seeped into his flesh, its creamy warmth trickling through his body. Rob felt like he was bathing in the bright, sunny warmth of Joseph’s youth and vitality. It coated his entire body in its salty, cummy flavor.
And then it was over in a freezing cold flash — a bucket of cold water was dumped over the showerhouse wall. It landed on Joseph’s head, but most of it hit Rob as well. It was a bucket filled with seawater.
Rob and Joseph both gasped, their orgasms barely complete before the water snapped them out of their respective climaxes. Rob fell to the ground, twitching as he enjoyed his orgasm.
Joseph’s more energetic body leapt into action. He ran out of the showers, naked again, screaming insults and threats. He came back in a few seconds, muttered a few words of thanks to Rob and then put his new shorts on. He ran back out there, and a fight immediately ensued.
“Get off me, mate!”
“It was my board!”
“Fuck you!”
Rob watched for a few moments, but he got bored soon. He had gotten what he wanted. He left all of his remaining cash there with the long board, the wax and the other stuff he had bought — that included more than fifty dollars for each of Joseph’s friends. He didn’t wait for them to notice him leave.
He had gotten what he paid for, and he even got the info he needed on The Talltops. They were a signable band, he thought. He wondered if they would let him jerk them off too. He had a feeling they’d do anything for a record deal, and Rob intended to push them as far as they would go.

The Barbershop

Desmond becomes an unlikely hero when he saves the day at the barbershop he works in, and he gets a reward he never dreamed of — he gets his choice of men! He chooses his boss, a big burly man who would never bend over and take it… or would he?!

Read it now as an ebook!

Or read the whole thing here!

When the tall Jamaican thug walked into the Cityside Barbershop, Desmond wasn’t interested at first. He seemed like nothing more than another customer. A part of Desmond’s mind realized that the man had long, thick and unkempt dreadlocks — he obviously wasn’t here for a haircut.
But Desmond was deep in to an anecdote, talking to a handsome young man named Lamar as he finished giving Lamar a haircut. Desmond thought that if he played his cards right, he might be able to jerk Lamar off after the haircut.
And then it all changed — the Jamaican man pulled out his gun. He pointed it at Isaiah, the barber who was standing at the register at that moment. Isaiah yelped but did as he was told, taking all the money from the drawer and putting it in a bag. Desmond wanted to scream; he was so close that he could see the sweat beading on the Jamaican’s neck, and he could have reached out to pull on those dreadlocks.
The Jamaican got the money. It all only took a few seconds. He turned to flee out the door, put the gun in the waistband of his pants and ran. Desmond reacted without a second thought. He stuck his foot out.
He tripped the Jamaican man as he fled across the threshold. There was a loud splat as the Jamaican landed face-first on the concrete, dreadlocks akimbo. His jaw shattered, and he spent the next nine months in the hospital. He was still there when he was convicted of armed robbery. Rupert Alan was his name. It was all instinct. Desmond gave it literally no thought. He saw the possibility of tripping the man and did it without considering whether it would work or backfire — a lot could have gone wrong. Rupert could have avoided the trip and shot Desmond in anger, he could have dropped the gun and it went off, he could have gone on a shooting spree. If Desmond had thought about it, he wouldn’t have done it.
But he didn’t think about it, and he did do it, and that was how Desmond became an unlikely hero for the Cityside Barbershop, when all he wanted in the crucial moment was to swing on Lamar’s big fat dick (which he didn’t end up getting to do because the cops showed up and put a damper on the excitement). The whole thing happened so fast.
The other barbers treated him like a champion, especially Isaiah, but the one who was most appreciative was Johnny Cee. Johnny Cee owned this location of the Cityside Barbershop, so he was the one who had the most to lose if Rupert Alan made away with the day’s take.
“You really saved my hide, Desmond, damn,” Johnny Cee said over and over when he showed up an hour later. “Damn… My fuckin’ business insurance lapsed this month. Havin’ cash flow problems. If I’d got robbed, I’d have lost the shop for sure. No way I would have been able to keep goin’. How can I repay you, my man?”
But Desmond didn’t know how he could be repaid (aside from the obvious, money, which Johnny Cee said he simply couldn’t afford), nor did he even especially want it. He was happy to be treated like a celebrity all night. The others bought him drinks and clapped him on the back until they all stumbled home in the darkness of night.
When Desmond showed up for his shift the next morning, however, he was surprised to find the entire chain there, even Isaiah, who was supposed to be off today. They clapped and hooted when Desmond walked in.
He blushed and lowered his eyes. He liked being the center of attention, but this was becoming ridiculous. Then Johnny Cee stepped forward and cleared his throat. He stammered as he waited for the others to quiet down.
“Uh, hey… Desmond, I uh… I was talkin’ to the guys, and y’know, I can’t pay you a bonus, not even a dime. I’m sorry about that,” he said. “But I was wonderin’… I’d like to give you something. So, uh, as yo’ reward, I was gonna say… if you want… you can pick a nigga, and he gonna… you know… do whatever, even… you know, take some dick… or… y’know, on the bottom.” He looked relieved to have finally gotten that out.
All barbers looked at him like they were awaiting news on which of them had cancer. Desmond giggled and blushed. “So, I get to pick one of you, and you’ll jerk me off, take it in the ass, everything?”
They all nodded, and Desmond’s giggle turned into a cackle. They were treating this like such a serious offer, like they were choosing who had to take the fall and go to prison for a crime they had all committed.
“Oh, this is going to be fun,” Desmond said grandly, raising his arms in a long, low sweeping motion. “Johnny Cee, I thank you for your kind offer. And I choose you.” He didn’t even have to think about it. He loved older daddies like Johnny Cee, whose beard was tinged with exactly two strands of gray. He had a deliciously thick body, with just the right amount of meat in just the right places. Johnny Cee was also the only one here who had never gotten dome from Desmond on the downlow.
Johnny Cee made this offer assuming Desmond would pick one of the young handsome muscle-boys with dimples. But Desmond had tasted their meats already. What he wanted was Johnny Cee himself.
Everyone else whooped and hollered. Johnny Cee chortled. “Damn… I thought you’d pick someone younger, nigga.” He lowered his eyes, avoiding meeting anyone’s gaze.
Desmond laughed and took Johnny Cee by the hand, then gestured for him to lead the way into the backroom. He did so, and as Desmond followed he squealed with a leering grin aimed at the other barbers.
The sound of clapping only died out when the door swung shut behind Desmond. He followed Johnny Cee through the darkened supply area to a small spot with a chair and a bit of carpet. This was where Desmond plied his trade. There used to be porn magazines around, but Johnny Cee had made Desmond throw them away. They made it look unprofessional, he had said, though now he looked rather like he had regretted that decision.
Johnny Cee dropped to his knees as Desmond sat down. Johnny Cee sighed and smiled. “Damn, boy, you smell like a girl. Thanks fo’ that, it does help. You smell like a stripper.”
Desmond grinned. He wore women’s perfume to work for precisely that effect. Johnny Cee had to awkwardly stoop, he was simply too tall to bend right over Desmond’s lap and be able to take his dick in his mouth. Desmond felt a surge of guilt as he saw Johnny Cee’s face — he looked like he had just eaten an extra-sour pickle, and he hadn’t even tasted dick yet, he just undid Desmond’s pants and pulled them down. Desmond awkward lifted his hips to give him space to work on his pants. Johnny Cee averted his eyes when Desmond’s big brown dick flopped out. It looked like he had hoped that Desmond’s little twink body came with a little bitty dick, which was far from the truth.
“You know… you ain’t really gotta do this,” Desmond said. “Just lemme jerk you off. That’s all the thanks I need. I been wantin’ to taste your meat since I started here, nigga.”
“I know. I seen the way you look at me,” he said with a growl — he didn’t like it when Desmond used the n-word. Desmond blushed. “But I don’t mind. I gotta show my appreciation. You really saved my bacon.”
“Aw, your bacon is sexy, Johnny Cee. I’ll always save it.”
“This ain’t the first time I done this. Don’t tell the others.” He nodded to the front room, where nervous laughter could be heard — they were no doubt whispering about what Johnny Cee was doing in here. Johnny Cee took a deep breath. “I… Before I got married, me and my buddy Mando used to trade dome on the downlow.”
“Really? Mando Ray?” Desmond had trouble picturing that.
“This was befo’ Mando got real fat.”
“It’d pretty much have to be,” Desmond said.
Johnny Cee nodded, opened his mouth, scrunched up his nose and swallowed Desmond’s dick in one smooth motion. The smoothness only lasted a moment though, because he was overwhelmed by gagging when Desmond’s shaft penetrated the back of Johnny Cee’s throat.
“Swallow it, Johnny Cee!”
“Make him your bitch, Desmond! Fist him!”
It sounded like they were laughing so hard they were crying. There was more catcalling going on, but most of it was drowned out by a torrent of laughter and jeers. Johnny Cee often badmouthed them — reminding them of their religious obligations, mainly — when they were back here receiving dome, so it sounded like they all wanted to return the favor now.
“I’m tellin’ Reverend Chandler! He gonna punish the fuck outta you, Johnny Cee!”
“Maybe Reverend Chandler will go up your behind next! He could ram the repentance into ya!”
Johnny Cee tried to pretend it wasn’t bothering him, like he barely noticed it at all. His eyes were downcast and dark as he pushed his head up and down on Desmond’s shaft. His mouth was warm and wet, and it sent a shiver of desire through Desmond’s body. The whole situation was such a surprise that Desmond didn’t get hard right away, as though his body had forgotten how to react in all the confusion.
But as Johnny Cee’s tongue began stroking up and down Desmond’s shaft, he fell into the old groove again — he had been a bottom for a long time, and Desmond hadn’t received dome in nearly six months. He had never received dome from a big burly daddy-bear like Johnny Cee.
His hands roamed onto the back of Johnny Cee’s head. He had thick, kinky black hairs that were cut short, which was unfortunate, Desmond thought, as he would have liked to hold on as Johnny Cee got more and more into it. He gradually stopped gagging, though he never lost that sour-lemon look on his face. Then Desmond’s hands explored lower, sneaking under Johnny Cee’s shirt and caressing his rippling back-flesh.
“Can you take off your shirt?” Desmond asked, feeling uncertain that Johnny Cee would do it. Maybe that would seem too weird? Almost romantic? He wasn’t sure. Alphas had such weird rules about this sort of thing. But, Desmond thought with a sigh, that was part of what he loved about them.
“You feel spermies tryin’-a impregnate yo’ rectum, Johnny Cee? Hope you’s on the pill!”
Johnny Cee lifted his head and frowned as he unbuttoned his shirt, removed it and lifted his wifebeater over his head. He had a strong, thick-muscled body with a hairy barrel-shaped chest, his thick arms jiggling as he paused with his shirts in his hand. He had just one tattoo, the Lord’s Prayer in flowing script on his right bicep. He said a brief prayer, then leaned forward and kissed Desmond on the lips.
Desmond was so shocked he didn’t kiss back at first. That was one of the rules that most niggas at the Cityside Barbershop never broke — no kissing. They might even lick Desmond’s ass to lube it up, jack him off as a favor, taste his cum by accident, touch dicks with a nigga during a gangbang, maybe even let someone finger his ass while he was knee-deep in some pussy.
But none of them would kiss a man, except, it seemed, for Johnny Cee. His burly body pressed heavily down on Desmond’s thin chest as they made out, Desmond wrapping his arms around Johnny Cee’s body and clinging on.
They stopped only when Johnny Cee’s cell phone buzzed. He looked at the screen and growled in frustration, and the men in the frontroom burst into laughter again — obviously, they had sent him a teasing message.
“Whatchoo think, Johnny Cee? I know a pimp who’d treat you right!”
Desmond wanted to ask what it said, but before he could, Johnny Cee kissed him again. His grizzled chin was rough and scratchy, his tongue awkwardly flailing about. It was a weird kiss, Desmond thought, especially since he was so much smaller than Johnny Cee — it felt like he was a child again, being kissed by a giant, like Johnny Cee could open his mouth wider at any moment and swallow Desmond whole.
Then Johnny Cee undid his pants, let them fall and dropped his shorts as well. His heavy dick was thick, juicy, and not totally limp, which made Desmond giggle: Johnny Cee was more aroused by this than he let on.
Desmond stroked Johnny Cee to full erection as they kissed, and then Desmond licked his way down to Johnny Cee’s pecs. He looked like he had probably had a six-pack and a mountainous chest when he was younger, but now there was a perfectly thick layer of flesh atop his body, which hadn’t lost a lick of power since then. That was just the way Desmond liked it. He liked the massive meat of Johnny Cee’s middle-aged frame, and he enjoyed the way it nervously quivered as Johnny Cee got more and more into it.
Every fiber of Desmond’s body said he should start jerking Johnny Cee off, but Desmond didn’t want to, even though his dick was hard as steel and already oozing precum into Desmond’s fingers. This was an opportunity that wouldn’t likely happen again, and Desmond wasn’t going to squander it.
“Alright, be gentle,” Johnny Cee said. He sighed and turned around, his pants still around his ankles so he had to shuffle awkwardly. He bent over like a prisoner submitting to his cellmate: he put his hands on the floor and stuck his ass in the air.
Desmond giggled. “You greatly overestimate my height, Johnny Cee,” he said. Johnny Cee’s ass towered above Desmond’s head where he sat in the chair.
“Oh yeah,” he said with a grunt. “Mando was taller than me.” He lowered his ass slowly, yelping in surprise when Desmond’s fingers gripped those big hairy orbs. He grinned at Johnny Cee’s reaction. Johnny Cee winced and turned his head to face Desmond. “Yo’ fingers are cold, man.”
Desmond clucked like a mother hen. “Sorry, baby, lemme warm ‘em up.” He breathed on his fingers, then caressed Johnny Cee’s asscrack. Johnny Cee shuddered and stopped moving, his back flat and ass right at the level of the chair in which Desmond said.
“Make his ass bleed, Desmond! If you ram him hard enough, he’ll learn to love it!:
His skin was marked with hair and rough spots, which Desmond loved. He kissed both asscheeks and spat into the dark, funky hole. Then he dove his head in to get it loosened up.
The taste was musty and masculine, dripping with salty sweat and the flavor of coconut oil-scented soap. It was a decidedly feminine kind of soap, Desmond thought, no doubt chosen by Johnny Cee’s wife. His tongue plunged in to that tight, dark hole and explored it as Johnny Cee stiffened his entire body in response.
A loud, foundation-shaking moan escaped from Johnny Cee’s lips. He cut it off when he realized the niggas in the frontroom could hear and were guffawing as though they had never heard anything like that (which was very possibly true — Desmond had never heard that kind of moan either). Johnny Cee’s asshole bloomed, loosened and opened up all at once, while his dick spasmed and leaked precum even with no one touching it.
Then Desmond stood, ready to begin the actual ramrodding. Johnny Cee breathed fast, tense, and hung his head low. Desmond couldn’t believe this was happening, and he kept thinking that Johnny Cee was going to back out. He stood on the chair, looking over Johnny Cee’s broad, rippling back.
“Uh… damn…” Desmond said. “I, uh, I don’t know how to do this.”
“Well you’re the expert. Don’t ask me for help,” Johnny Cee snapped.
“I know, I know. It’s just you so big. Normally I’d give you a reacharound but I don’t even know if I can reach,” Desmond said.
“Don’t worry about that. Once you get into me, I ain’t gonna have a boner no more,” Johnny Cee said. His voice sounded clipped and annoyed.
Desmond didn’t think that was true, but he wasn’t about to argue. He decided to just go for it. He kneeled on the edge of the chair and wedged his dick between Johnny Cee’s asscheeks, which he pulled apart with both hands.
As soon as his dick entered him, Johnny Cee grunted, bit his lip and threw his head back. Desmond lightly caressed his meaty back muscles, or at least the lower third of his back, which was all Desmond could reach.
He tried to gyrate his hips, but with himself sitting on the chair and Johnny Cee lowering his ass onto him, that wasn’t too easy to do. His dick couldn’t move much in this position. That didn’t detract from the intense pleasure he felt as Johnny Cee’s tight asshole clenched around his dick. A wave of exquisite sensations rollicked through Desmond’s petite frame.
“Did you and Mando ever share any ass?” Desmond asked, his voice tight because he had a behemoth riding his cock.
Johnny Cee shook his head but didn’t answer. He groaned and sighed. Desmond suspected that meant the answer was: not in any way that counts, meaning we did it when we was drunk, stoned, in prison or homeless, or some combination thereof. Johnny Cee’s ass pinched and flexed as he struggled to take all of Desmond’s dick.
When it became clear that it wasn’t going to work like this, Desmond used the chair for leverage. He thought he’d ride Johnny Cee to the ground and just hump him there on the floor, but that wasn’t what happened — Johnny Cee easily supported Desmond’s weight.
So Desmond clutched his thick back and held on as he began working his dick in and out. He was completely off the chair, riding Johnny Cee like a piggy-back ride, just lower down on Johnny Cee’s back. He stayed bent over, on his hands and feet with his ass still high in the air.
Johnny Cee was so tall that he seemed to take up an impossible amount of room, filling the tiny space Desmond had set aside for jerking off horny men. He had never thought he’d use this space to top anyone.
As Desmond humped, Johnny Cee bit his lip to avoid crying out. The men in the front room were quiet now except for a few scattered giggles. Desmond had been back here often enough to know what that meant — they were listening at the door but not talking about what they heard, probably because there was a child in the shop. It was just past nine, after all, so the Cityside Barbershop was open now.
Johnny Cee staggered and bumped into a shelf, nearly knocking it over. A box full of unsold doo rags fell onto Desmond and scattered over the floor. Johnny Cee was breathing heavy, having trouble supporting himself not because Desmond was so heavy but because Johnny Cee was jacking himself off as he took it up the ass, which meant he only used one hand to support his body now.
That suggested that he was hard. Desmond wanted to point out that Johnny Cee’s prediction was proven incorrect, as he had known it would be, but his own pleasure was too intense to stop. The more he humped, the more frenzied was Johnny Cee’s reaction.
“Damn, get it in me, man…” Johnny Cee said softly. He grunted and heaved, stumbling throughout the room and bumping into the walls head-first. The emotions galloping across his tense face were equal parts agony, pride, humiliation and jaw-dropping bliss. Johnny Cee’s entire body reacted to each thrust of Desmond’s dick inside him, tension rolling up and down his flesh from head to toe and back again. His face, when he looked behind himself so Desmond could see it, was ruddy and covered with sweat, eyes bugging out of their sockets.
When Johnny Cee clenched hard on Desmond’s dick, Desmond didn’t know why. He just knew it sent a crescendo of pleasure up his spine, and Desmond grunted so loud the sound overpowered Johnny Cee’s reactions for a moment. But then it was clear why Johnny Cee had clenched down — he was cumming.
That much was a surprise. Desmond knew that most men would get hard when being rammed, simply due to prostate stimulation, that was why Desmond had disbelieved Johnny Cee’s prediction that he’d remain soft. But he was shocked that Johnny Cee had managed to cum while Desmond still pounded his ass.
“Aw, fuck yeah, nigga…”
But there was no mistaking the cummy smell that filled the area, and the intense moan that came from Johnny Cee’s throat. Someone applauded outside the room, leading to another burst of laughter. Johnny Cee tried to cover up his pleasurable groaning with a cough, but his coughing spasm sent a shiver of pain up his spine as it made Desmond’s dick grind even deeper into his ass.
That was it for Desmond, who couldn’t hold back anymore. He dug his nails into the flesh of Johnny Cee’s back while an intense orgasm rocketed through his body. It grew in waves, each successive outpouring of pleasure more incredible than the last. With his face buried in the meaty middle of Johnny Cee’s back, Desmond felt like he was ensconced in masculine flesh in a way he hadn’t felt even when being rammed all over by big men in the past. For a moment, he and Johnny Cee might as well have been one person.
Desmond yelped and squirmed atop Johnny Cee’s body, and he even bit at the flesh of his back when the intensity of his climax was too overwhelming for Desmond to accept. Johnny Cee didn’t even seem to notice the bite.
At long last it was over. Johnny Cee was perfectly still now, stooped over so his back was flat. He breathed heavily, waiting for Desmond to finish. Desmond was still too exhausted to react, so he remained there as his dick softened inside Johnny Cee’s ass. He tightly gripped Johnny Cee’s body, which he still clung to like a small adult riding a giant stallion. Johnny Cee cleared his throat, but Desmond still remained right there.
Then Desmond let go of his back, which made Johnny Cee let out a sigh of relief. That sigh accelerated as Desmond slid down and his cock finally plopped out of Johnny Cee’s ass. Desmond’s face rubbed up against the burly man’s lower back and his cum-dripping asscheeks until he finally landed on the ground on his feet. He nearly fell as his orgasm had weakened his knees, but Desmond managed to remain upright.
Johnny Cee turned around and winced. He kissed Desmond on the lips, and their tongues awkwardly interlocked once again — Johnny Cee’s massive tongue overfilling Desmond’s mouth, in which it barely fit. Then Johnny Cee pulled off and smiled bashfully.
“Sorry,” he said.
“You don’t have anything to apologize for. You’ve got a nice ass, Johnny Cee.”
“Yeah, well… Thanks, for that, and for, uh… y’know, saving the shop,” he said.
“You’re welcome,” Desmond said with a gasp and a shudder. They both got dressed. When they were done, Johnny Cee took a deep breath.
“So, y’know, I’m gonna tell them niggas that you go hard but it ain’t hurt too much. I ain’t gonna tell ‘em… y’know… that I jacked off too.”
“Okay,” Desmond said, sighing and smiling at Johnny Cee’s nervous stammering. “No one ever has to know you enjoyed bottoming. Your secret is safe with me.”

The Pickup Truck

When Avery has car trouble, he hitches a ride with a pair of rednecks with a pickup truck. They’re eager to get a nut off, a problem Avery is eager to help with, cuz Avery loves nothing more than submitting to alpha male hillbilly manhood.

Can Avery get his truck fixed and satisfy his newfound redneck buddies?

Read it now as an ebook!

Or read the whole thing here!

Avery sighed as his car rattled to a stop on the side of the road. He had just gotten the starter replaced, and now something else was wrong with it. He cursed and kicked at the car when he got out. He opened the hood as though there was some chance he could fix it.
But he didn’t know anything about cars. Unless there was a sign in the hood describing what was wrong and how to fix it, he wouldn’t have known what to do. Unsurprisingly, there was no sign. Even if there was a sign, he’d probably need help.
The engine looked normal. It was hot and dirty and greasy, and it looked just like it always did. He checked the oil because that was one of the few things he knew how to do. The oil level was fine. Well, I successfully ruled out oil, he thought, at least that’s something.
He sighed and started walking. There was no point in hanging out here, in the middle of nowhere, Bumfuck, West Virginia. He could have called AAA, but his cell phone only had a little charge left. He turned it off in case he needed it later. He knew there was a garage up the road, so he thought it would end up being quicker to walk there and arrange a repair job.
As he crested the next hill, he muttered about his car. His Kia was notoriously crappy, he had learned after owning it for a few months. This was only the latest in a series of setbacks for the car. He should have done more research before he picked it out, he thought. That must be why it was so cheap.
He was startled out of his reverie by the sight of a man on the side of the road up ahead. He was a hundred feet or so away from where Avery was overtop the hill, and he faced backwards with a thumb out. When he saw Avery, he waved.
“Howdy, brotha!” he called out.
Avery waved back. The man was shirtless, a lean and lanky redneck in a red backwards baseball cap and muddy camo pants. He was a hillbilly, Avery thought and shivered as a frisson of desire ran up his spine. Avery appreciated the male form, and this ropy-muscled young man was an ideal example.
“Howdy, friend,” said the young man when Avery got closer. He accentuated the word friend as though he called everyone his friend but really meant it this time. He had a charming, dimpled smile.
Avery giggled and said hello. “Nice to meet you,” Avery said.
The man had a Confederate flag belt buckle, and tattoos dotted his bare torso. “You hitchin’?” the man asked. He spat on the ground.
Avery shook his head. “My car broke down right over the hill. I was just going to the garage down the street.”
“Old Ray’s? That place shut down. Ol’ Ray was a fat fuck anyway. He dead now,” said the hillbilly. “Name’s Cody.”
“Nice to meetcha, Cody,” Avery said. “I’m Avery.”
He nodded. “Mah buddy is on his way to come get me. He’ll give you a ride too, reckon.”
“Thanks.”
“Gonna have to ride in the back though. In the bed of his pickup, I mean. Ain’t got room in the cab for three.”
“Okay,” Avery said.
“There he is now. His name Buck,” said Cody. His tongue rolled around in his mouth as though it was too big for him, as he sized Avery up, looking him from head to toe.
They had only gone a little ways when a beat-up red truck came from behind and pulled to a stop on the side of the road.
A beefier hillbilly stuck his head out the window. He was tall enough that he was squashed into the truck cab, and he had a furiously untamed mullet that framed his oversized head. “Need a ride, li’l hoss? You know the rule: cash, grass or ass,” Buck called out and hooted out a series of baritone laughs.
Then he saw Avery, and his eyes turned dark and hostile.
“Hey this man here had a breakdown up the road. He goin’ to Old Ray’s,” Cody said.
“Old Ray dead.”
“I told him that,” Cody said.
“Hop in, li’l hoss,” said Buck. “You got that Kia on the road a f’ur piece back?” He had a grizzled chin, with a lazy look on his face. He was much thicker than Cody and hairier. He also made Avery feel a flush of hormones and a stiffening in his cock, and Avery wondered if he could nab both of these hunky rednecks.
“Yeah, that was me,” Avery said as he got in the back. “The car just died on me.”
“Kias’ll do that. Buy ‘merican next time.”
There were blankets and pads all over the back of the rickety old pickup truck. It looked like Buck had recently helped someone move. The truck pulled away, and Avery crawled to the passenger side, where he could hear through and speak into the little window that opened into the truck cab. Cody’s arm was out the window, its reddish hue ruddening in the brilliant Alabama sun. Avery’s heart pounded as he gathered up the courage to make a proposition.
“Hey, so are you down?” Avery asked, raising his voice so Cody could hear in the truck cab. The wind was loud enough — not to mention the rackety engine — that Avery didn’t think Buck would hear. That was necessary because Cody was gonna offer to jerk him off, and he assumed Cody would want to go somewhere private, not let his buddy know that Cody was messing around on the downlow.
Cody hesitated. “Yeah. Down for what? You got pills?”
“No! I’ll jerk you off, that’s all. If you-“
“You take it in the ass too?”
“Hell yeah,” Avery said. “If you got somewhere private to go.”
Cody told his buddy to stop, then said something quiet enough that Avery didn’t hear. Buck laughed a deep belly laugh. His voice boomed audibly out the driver’s side window. “That boy?”
The truck shivered to a stop
Avery shivered in anticipation. Now that he heard that laugh, he was sure Buck would join in, he thought, if he could get him out from behind the wheel. But before he came up with a plan, Cody hopped into the bed of the truck.
“Ain’t never rammed no feller,” Cody said. He smiled, then blushed as the truck pulled into gear and returned to the road. He almost fell over — Buck laughed again as though he had been trying to knock Cody off-balance — then sat down next to Avery.
As soon as the truck lurched back into motion on the road again, Avery grabbed for Cody’s dick through his camo pants and stroked it. They had turned onto a rural road, so there were no cars around, but even if one came by, this truck had a very low bed with a high wall, so there was plenty of room to avoid being seen. Once Avery’s head was in Cody’s lap, only Cody’s head could be seen from outside the truck.
“Oh fuck, you that kind of freak? Daaaang…” Cody whistled. He played himself off as nonchalant, but Avery could tell he was more nervous than he let on.
Avery inhaled deeply of his musky scent, then pulled down Cody’s pants. His dick popped out of his tattered old boxers. It was long and thick, already getting hard just from Avery handling it through the fabric. Cody was young and horny, that was why, Avery thought, he must get hard so easy.
After just a few strokes, Avery lowered his head so he could swallow Cody’s cock all the way down to the root, nestling his nose deep in Cody’s pubic hair. Cody chuckled, then gasped as though he never thought it would feel this good. His eyes opened wide.
“He doin’ it furreal, yeah!” Cody yelled out to his buddy, Buck, who hooted and reached to the top of the truck, his meaty fist slamming down on the roof. He might have yelled something back, but Avery couldn’t hear it.
His dick zoomed to attention, and it throbbed in Avery’s mouth. It smelled of redneck sweat, which Avery loved, and he slurped down every drop he could get to. Cody tasted of dirt and distilled manhood, and the flavor made Avery want to cum as soon as he got a mouthful of Cody’s cock. He could taste the boisterous four-wheeling and the early morning hunting trips, wild ramps, barbecue sauce and chewing tobacco, he could even taste the unbridled patriotism.
“I love an enthusiastic mouth,” Cody said with a relaxed sigh. It sounded like he had been nervous about getting dome from a man but now was settling into it. He leaned back, resting his shoulders on the wall of the truck bed. “You better at this than most women even, you know that? You should teach lessons and-” Cody stopped talking as the truck taking a sharp turn caused him to slip all the way to the other edge of the truck bed. Avery had to crawl back over to him. The truck swerved all over the road, so Cody and Avery slid on the pads and blankets covering the bed. Cody’s cock bobbed around, and Avery chased after it.
That was fun at first, but it soon became apparent Buck was swerving the truck left and right as a prank — his baritone laughter could be heard emanating from the truck cab — and watching Cody’s naked body sliding around while Avery tried to get ahold of him.
“C’mon!” Avery called out, his voice wavering because he didn’t want to upset the giant redneck behind the wheel and because he was starting to get motion-sick from the motion.
Cody called out to his buddy, “Hey, quit swervin’, asshole!”
“Can’t you control yaself?” Buck shouted from the driver’s seat. He guffawed like a jackal.
Avery settled into the messy pickup bed the best he could with the truck sliding left and right beneath him. Underneath the pads and wadded up sheets was bright orange parkas and other gear — hunting equipment. He grabbed ahold of that stuff to keep under him, to avoid jostling too much as the truck barrelled and rattled down the road.
It didn’t seem that Buck was making any effort to keep the truck steady. He cackled with laughter every time Cody slid into the side of the truck and groaned. Buck opened the window between the cab and the bed, then he said, “Hey sissy! If you havin’ trouble findin’ it, just look for the pimple. Ain’t a pimple. Doctor says it’s a cock, just a li’l bitty withered one-“
“Shut up, Buck. Nobody gives a shit — we all know you got the biggest dick around. Nobody cares, it’s ugly, and girls don’t even like it cuz it’s too big. You got the ugliest dingdong in the world.”
“Shuddup, Cody, girls do so like my dick,” Buck said. He sounded chagrined though, like women really had said his dick was too big or too ugly or both.
That would not be a problem for Avery. He loved a big cock, and he had never seen an ugly one.
“Gonna fill you up, boy!” Cody cackled. He scooted over to block the window between the cab and the bed — that was also the center, the most stable part of the bed of the truck. He gripped Avery’s ears and held onto his head as he aimed his dick for Avery’s mouth.
Once again the wild flavor of stale hillbilly crotch-sweat filled Avery’s senses, and he swallowed as much as he could. Cody was even more into it this time, and he had no reluctance in holding Avery by the head so he could use his mouth like a pussy. He humped his dick down Avery’s throat, ignoring it each time Avery gagged.
He opened his gullet wide to let that entire cockshaft in. Avery loved how Cody visibly lost control of his muscles even though he hadn’t orgasmed yet, and his muscles rippled. Cody sucked in his breath. “Damn…” he murmured.
Precum began to flow from Cody’s cock, and Avery slurped it down like a delicacy. Cody’s whole body shook, both from the pickup truck moving beneath him and from the pleasure that exploded in his veins. His arms and legs went limp like a rag doll as Avery swallowed his dick down to the root.
“Who? That bitch?” Cody said. At first Avery thought he was talking to him and he looked up, confused, then realized Cody was talking to Buck through the window separating the cab and the bed of the truck. Avery couldn’t hear Buck’s part of the conversation. “Yeah, he’s hella better than her. She only sucked dick good in ya ‘magination, and she looked like an overinflated clown — she was not hot, you are so wrong, that was ya ‘fuckin’ oinkers’ phase — don’t gimme that ‘I need fat chicks for mah big dick shit’ — oh hell, you hafta bring up ya cock e’ery goddamn time — I don’t believe you fo’ a second about that, no women is that into big dicks — it is so ugly! It looks like a dead barbarian! — shut up, anyway, I’m gettin’ head. I don’t wanna talk to you.”
There was a commotion, and Avery looked up from Cody’s precum-oozing cocktip. Buck kept the truck rolling forward slowly, jerking every few seconds because Buck was riding the brake. He poked his burly, furry head through the window between the cab and the bed, guffawing so hard he slapped his knees as he plastered a sloppy kiss on Cody’s cheek. Cody screamed and pushed him away — he had closed his eyes, so he didn’t see until it was too late.
“You fuckin’ prick, you ruined my boner!” Cody said, trying to punch Buck through the window. He couldn’t quite reach though. Avery just kept swallowing his meat — in fact Buck’s kiss hadn’t weakened Cody’s erection in the slightest.
“Okay, ya mouth is nice, sissy, but I want some ass. A real man needs ass,” Cody said with a sigh. He pulled out of Avery’s mouth and wiped his dick off on Avery’s cheek. “Girls never wanna take it in the ass. But you do, right?”
“Hell yeah,” Avery said. He took a deep breath.
“You gonna take the whole thang?!” Cody asked, and Avery nodded as he gathered his breath. Cody arranged himself behind Avery — a difficult feat as the truck continued down the road. He pushed into Avery’s ass, his thick cock sending a twinge of pain up Avery’s back. He remained sitting, so Avery was in control, pushing back onto Cody’s crotch, as they got into something approaching a reverse-cowgirl position, or at least as close as they could come in a moving truck bed.
The truck pulled to a sudden stop, and Avery slid across the bed. He and Cody both bumped into the edge of the truck, this time with enough of a bang that Cody cried out in pain. The motion forced Cody’s whole cock all the way into Avery’s ass, more dick and more quickly than Avery was expecting. A howl of surprise and pain came from Avery’s mouth, and the sound quickly turned into a moan of pleasure as Cody’s cock stimulated his prostate.
Buck’s booming laugh echoed in the woods surrounding the road. He got out of the driver’s seat, then jumped into the bed — he was surprisingly limber for a big man. His damn near seven-foot-tall frame effortlessly hefted his bigness up into the truck bed. He stripped his shirt off as he moved, revealing a furry barrel chest and several tattoos: a broken heart with four drops of blood around it, a gray coiled snake on his belly, the Grateful Dead bears on his shoulder and an American flag on the side of his neck.
“Go drive for a minute, Cody,” Buck said. He frowned down at Avery’s ass, in which Cody had his cock sliding back and forth. “I ain’t know he was givin’ up the ass — all you said was dome. You best believe I’s takin’ mah turn, and it won’t be sloppy seconds from my little buddy.”
“Man-“
Since Avery was facing away, he didn’t see exactly what Buck did. But apparently it intimidated Cody enough that he gave in, and he pushed Avery off his cock. Cody hopped off the bed with his pants around his ankles, landing on the ground on his belly. He groaned in pain.
“Fuck you, Buck! He was mine! I’m the one who found him!”
“I’s bigguh,” Buck said with a shrug. He dropped his pants. He had a huge cock, as thick as a forearm, and his entire body was hairy. He was well more than a foot taller than his buddy and at least a hundred pounds heavier. He had a thick, crude face, like a caveman, like every part of his head was too big for all the other parts.
“Hi, I’m Avery-“
He didn’t even look Avery in the eye. He just grabbed him by the hair, pulled him into position for doggystyle and rammed his cock in. A burst of pain wracked Avery’s body, and he clawed at the truck bed. That pain quickly melted into an oozing pleasure, as Buck’s reawakened Avery’s sensitive prostate.
“Don’t talk,” Buck said in his gravelly baritone. “Reminds me you ain’t a chick.”
“Okay. I won’t,” Avery gasped.
“I said don’t talk,” he said. He worked his dick in deeper, holding Avery still with both hands when he squirmed in pain and tension. Avery desperately wanted to jack himself off, but he couldn’t reach his cock with his face jammed in the corner. Buck called out to his buddy, as he got in the driver’s seat. “Gonna ruin this hole for ya, lil bro.”
“Fuck you. Get down, man, someone’s gonna see you.”
Buck, it seemed, was not concerned with being seen. He stayed well atop the truck bed, so it was obvious what he was doing. Anybody going by would have seen that he could only be plowing his cock back and forth, so they’d assume he was fucking a woman, probably. This was a deserted country road though, and no cars passed by., Avery was still pretty low, so anyone driving by could see only Buck’s hairy bare ass dimpling and bouncing up and down.
“There’s only one way I know how to ram a man. Hope that’s what you is into. I only ram ‘em one way: hard and rough, just like I ram my prison bitch. You-“
“Ha! Don’t let him scare you!” Cody called out, as he was climbing into the driver’s seat. “He was in jail for two weeks. It was local county lockup. The only other person there was a ninety year old man.”
“Shut up, Cody!” Buck roared. He reached through the little window between the bed and the cab, and he tussled with Cody, who was navigating the truck back into motion on the road. When he got Cody’s nape in one hand, Cody squealed. The truck swerved, pushing Avery deeper into the corner of the truck. “That ain’t true anyway.”
Buck grabbed Avery by the hair with his other hand and pushed his head through that window between the cab and the bed. Avery moaned in ecstasy — he could finally reach his own dick, which was on the verge of ejaculating already — as his head appeared right next to Cody’s. He was so close he could smell the sweat of Cody’s unwashed armpit.
“Oh, man, get his face outta here…” Cody murmured, seemingly resigned to his buddy ignoring him. “I don’t wanna watch a man as you sodomize, Buck.”
“Yeah but fuck you,” Buck boomed. He banged on the top of the truck cab. “Hey, sissy, kiss him. He won’t hitcha or nothin’. Just kiss him. Use tongue.”
Avery placed his head in the crook of Cody’s neck. He kissed the best he could as he himself was orgasming, spraying cum all over the bed of the truck. Buck, it seemed, didn’t notice. A fat puddle of jizz spread over the bed, while Avery stuck his tongue out and slurped up the dried sweat on Cody’s skin. He tasted the dried salt crystals on the nape of Cody’s neck, as a wave of pleasure washed over him.
Cody swerved all over the road. It would have been terrifying but he was only going about five miles per hour, and there was no one else anywhere to be seen — they weren’t even on a paved road anymore, it was gravel. It was a two-lane road technically, but it was barely wide enough for the truck.
“Oh, man, get the sissy off me,” Cody said. He leaned over a bit but didn’t seriously stop Avery, who craned his neck to reach the corner of Cody’s mouth. He tried kiss Cody on the mouth, but when Cody both resisted and showed off the hardon that never went away, Avery lowered his head to swallow his meat once more instead.
Now that Avery wasn’t trying to stroke himself off, he could lean even farther through the window. He could easily get his upper half in, which was enough to put his head in Cody’s crotch. He tasted the familiar funk of Cody’s goopy erection, and Avery moaned around the shaft in his mouth.
Cody’s ass-stained cock was still half-hard. Avery picked it up and put it in his mouth before Cody even realized what was happening.
“Oh yeah, he doin’ that ass-to-mouth sheeit,” Cody said. “He swallowin’ up mah dick, sheeit!”
Buck banged on the roof again. His voice was so deep it sent a chill up Avery’s spine just as the truck went over a rough spot and jostled, which in turn caused a spasm of pain from Buck’s rod ramming into Avery’s ass. Buck laughed. “That hurt, man? Hit some more bumps there, bro.”
Cody pulled to a stop as he approached orgasm. His dick pulsated in Avery’s ass, and both rednecks moaned at once.
That was when Avery realized they were going to cum simultaneously. But he actually tasted Cody first, his youthfully spicy cum spraying into Avery’s mouth a half-second before Buck went off. Avery liked making a mess, so he didn’t swallow any of the jizz, he just held it in his mouth then let it dribble out to soak into Cody’s pubic hair and the torn upholstery of the seat. He wondered how many other nuts had been spewed in this truck.
Then a load of cum sprayed into Avery’s ass. Buck roared and pounded on the roof of the cab, then said, “Like this, bro?” He pulled his cock out at the last second and aimed into into the cab. He had to aim very precisely to get it through the window and onto his buddy’s face, and he didn’t succeed, most of it landing on Avery’s bare ass, the rest on the window frame.
Cody was gasping for air after his own orgasm so he didn’t notice right away. Then he screamed, “Oh what the fuck man?!”
“Just gettin’ you back, man, you pulled that sheeit last munf-” Buck said.
“You done got me back! You beat me up fo’ that!”
“Yeah, so? We were even, and now I’s ahead by one, which is right as sunshine, cuz I’m bigguh and stronguh and I got a bigguh cock,” Buck said. He whacked his softening meat against Avery’s asscheek.
Avery licked the cum off Cody’s cheek. Cody shuddered in disgust, then called out to Buck — who was still above the cab and couldn’t see in — “You missed me anyway. A couple drops got on my pants, that’s it.”
“Yeah right.”
“Fuck you anyway,” Buck said. He took his pants all the way off and sat on the edge of the truck bed. Avery pulled out of the window and kneeled next to him, so his head was between those trunk-like thighs. He licked the cum and assjuice off Buck’s massive dangling meat. Buck chuckled in disgust. He lit a cigarette.
“You’re a dickhead, Buck.”
“Shut up and drive home, Cody.”
“Home?”
“Yeah. I’ll get my tools. Least I can do is fix the man’s car,” Buck said. “And when I’m done, he’ll take some more cock.”

The Terraformer

Madhu is part of a terraforming crew on an inhospitable planet, and his team includes one hunky handyman named Buck. He’s filthy, he’s strong, he’s crude and he’s ready to give Madhu a swing on his mechanically minded meat!

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His arms bulged from the too-small uniform shirt. He wore the uniform of a doctor even though he was not a doctor. Madhu couldn’t tear his eyes away from that bicep bulge above the caduceus patch. The green fabric of his right sleeve — the one Madhu could see most clearly from where he sat at his desk — was torn in parts, and there was a burgundy stain — dried blood from who knew what — up near the collar. Had his ear bled onto his shoulder? That’s kind of what it looked like, Madhu thought.
He turned his head back to the microscope just in time to avoid it being obvious that he was checking Buck out. Madhu sighed as he counted algae on the microscope slide.
“Hey, Buck, the O2 levels in the command hold are low!”
Buck grumbled. He yelled out of the lab, down the hall. “I know! I said that at breakfast!”
After a few moments, Commander Chumbers called out, “Well, can you fix it?”
“Yes!” Buck snarled. He ran his fingers through his hair, which was jet-black and greasy, flopping over itself as he tried to straighten it. It ran down to his shoulders, dense curls making it tangled since he didn’t shower often.
Madhu didn’t shower often either. That’s because water was at a premium still. They were able to give themselves sponge-baths from time to time, but not actual showers. Even the sponge-baths were strictly limited to avoid wasting water.
Soon, that problem should be fixed. Madhu was happy with the amount of algae he found in the microscope — they were colonizing the small amount of water that Commander Chumbers’s crew had managed to create. There were now a few ponds on the surface of Lannentia, with algae.
There were five species on the planet now, six if you counted humans. It had taken eight years to get to that point — Madhu had only been here for six months, but the terraforming colony had been around for seven and a half years by then — and would probably take another eight to be minimally inhabitable by humans with just a few adaptations. Terraforming tended to be like a snowball running down a hill: very slow at first, taking three years just to establish one kind of microscopic purple sulfur bacteria that made the whole planet smell like a turd, but then it would go quickly. This time next year Madhu hoped to be stocking the oceans with fish.
But his more immediate goal, the reason he had come to Lannentia, was to taste Buck’s dick.
“Zhing Chuen!” Buck snapped at himself. The screw he was trying to remove had become stripped. He glanced at Madhu to make sure he wasn’t offended by the neo-Chinese cursing. Madhu pretended not to notice.
Buck was the only non-scientist on the crew. He was the handyman, the “rank and file” — this organization divided its employees into “knowledge workers” and “rank and file”, but poor Buck was the only “rank and file” on the entire planet.
“Buck?” Commander Chumbers stuck his head in the lab.
“What?” Buck said with an angry snarl. Then he mumbled, “Sir?”
“Can you fix the O2 in the command hold-?”
“Yes! I’ll do it! Ya want this radiation shielding to work or not? That has gotta be mah first priority!” Buck said.
Commander Chumbers glared at him, while Buck strained to get a screw out. Chumbers was not used to this level of disrespect.
Buck’s arms gleamed with grease-stained sweat, and his biceps bulged and flexed as he worked. Madhu was hunched over the microscope, but when he looked up, he saw Buck’s ass because he was bent over, ass upraised and aimed towards Madhu’s head. He had a thick and juicy ass, and it made Madhu’s mouth water.
“Fine. Yes.” Commander Chumbers hesitated. It was obvious he was reluctant to scold Buck. He should have, he was commander, he was entitled to respect and obedience. But Buck was also right — the radiation shielding was mission-critical, while the command hold could deal with low oxygen levels for a little while. Buck could have said that in a respectful way but hadn’t.
Commander Chumbers turned to leave. He no doubt didn’t want to risk losing Buck, who, despite being the lowest-paid person here, had brought his own shuttle. He could leave anytime. That was, Madhu supposed, necessary for someone like Buck, who probably got fired without notice on many occasions.
Madhu got the feeling Buck left most of his past jobs when he lost his temper and punched his boss. He seemed like that type.
Once he was gone, Buck stood up and rushed the door like he was going to stab Commander Chumbers in the back with the screwdriver in his hand. “Fuckin’ asshole! Ming te tin!” He spat on the ground. Then he glanced at Madhu. “Sorry.” He snorted and grabbed his dick through his uniform overalls, which were tight on him — he had been too big for any of the uniform pieces on the planet, which was why he was dressed as a doctor (there had been a Migwadlian doctor here last year, and they tended to be very large, so the colony had plenty of large doctors’s uniforms).
“No worries,” Madhu said. He stood and stretched his legs. “Commander Chumbers is a fucking asshole.”
“Yeah.”
Madhu came closer to Buck, who furrowed his brow at him. The scientists were usually shy and intimidated by Buck, and Madhu was too, but Madhu was also aroused by his intense masculinity and his dominant attitude. Madhu was a great admirer of the male form. He smiled at Buck. “Do you need money, Buck?”
“What?” Buck stopped, arms upraised as he was about to screw in a new, non-stripped screw. He held the screwdriver up, so his armpits were bare, his big fleshy arms firmly flexing in front of Madhu’s face. The furry bush of his armpits was clearly visible, and the smell of his unwashed sweat filled Madhu’s nostrils.
“Do you need money? I have thirty-four credits burning a hole in my pocket,” Madhu said. He pulled the money out and counted it. “Oh, no, I apologize, I have thirty-five credits.” He paused to lick his teeth. “I’d be glad to hand them over if you let me do certain things.” He tried to insert a finger beneath Buck’s shirt-sleeve onto his biceps, but his arm was high in the air, and anyway it was squeezed into a too-tight sleeve, so there was no space for Madhu’s finger. He rubbed the part that was palpable through a tear in the fabric, which got Buck’s attention.
Buck’s eyes opened wide. “Oh… Well, shit…” Buck blushed and groaned. He laughed and blushed even harder. His muscles rippled beneath the too-tight doctor’s uniform. “Ah, damn… I mean, there ain’t no females around…”
“Well, there’s Leslie.”
He chuckled. “Yeah. Ain’t no females around.”
Madhu laughed with him, though that was mean — Leslie was a rather mannish woman who didn’t even have a pleasant personality to fall back on. Madhu liked her, but he wasn’t surprised that Buck didn’t.
Buck sighed and nodded. Madhu touched his dick through his overalls, and Buck snorted. He hadn’t expected it to happen right here. This was technically in public — no one would likely be here, and it was impossible to sneak up, but still, the micro lab was not a private place.
Buck rolled his eyes like this was yet another unpleasant duty as a handyman — Buck always played everything off like it was a big imposition — everything from addressing his Commander as sir to fixing the plumbing to sponge-bathing himself, he treated it all like he had better stuff to do. That made it easier to demand a high rate of pay, and as a handyman working in off-world locations like this uninhabitable planet (so far), Buck was always negotiating a higher rate of pay.
Pulling his pants down was k awkward since they fit so poorly. He had to shimmy them down, as they were taut against his thunderous thighs. Madhu helped to pull, and he was rewarded with a limp but huge cock flopping into his face when it was finally bared. His shaft was fat, jiggling as it swayed between his muscled thighs.
“Hmmm… Looks tasty,” Madhu said with a petite giggle of desire. He chased Buck’s cock with his tongue as it bounced around, Buck still shaking and struggling to get his overalls down and his shirt off. His muscles rippled.
He didn’t sponge-bathe as often as ships regulations commanded. To Buck, a sponge-bath felt too much like he was a child who had shat himself. Anyway, he didn’t see a need to impress anyone here — there were no women to speak of, and who cared if a bunch of men thought he stank? He did stink, but so did the other men here.
Not Madhu. Madhu smelled like a woman, moreso than Leslie even.
That was why Buck did not care that he smelled like engine grease and stale sweat and who knew what else. It wasn’t a foul smell, but it was intense and astringent, almost cloying, and it brought tears to Madhu’s eyes as he kissed Buck’s chest. He slurped up the sweat that made Buck’s body hair cling to his pecs. Buck eyed him warily — he had only agreed to be jerked off, and he didn’t want to be taken advantage of.
His pecs flexed, and Madhu sucked on each nipple. Sour smoggy oil coated his tongue because Buck had repaired the tao furnace earlier. Buck firmly pushed his head down.
“You said you wanted to jerk me off, not lick my fuckin’ chest,” Buck said with an annoyed growl. He didn’t force Madhu to stop, but he did hurry him along to his knees.
Madhu opened his mouth and swallowed that big greasy hog down. He let it fill his mouth and throb there, dry and soft at first. Buck frowned like he was about to demand more money to get hard — Madhu hadn’t said that was a condition of his offer, after all — but then his dick twitched and firmed up in Madhu’s mouth.
Buck’s frown turned into a surprised shake as a shiver of pleasure ran up his spine. Madhu smiled up at him, his fingers reaching up for those nipples, which remained hard, pecs bouncing beneath Madhu’s touch. Buck grunted.
He wasn’t expecting it to feel this good. Buck was usually disappointed by the mouths of men — it simply wasn’t as good as a blowjob from a woman. But Madhu seemed to be an expert, his mouth silky and warm, and it made Buck let out a moan as his cock rocketed to full erection.
His fingers ran through his mane of jet-black hair, and he grumbled like he was disappointed even though it was plainly obvious that this was the best dome he’d had in a long time — the look on his face was unbridled ecstasy. He groaned and gripped Madhu’s head.
He plowed in deeply, his reluctance gradually melting away. By the time he had his whole cock in, balls slapping against Madhu’s chin, Buck had lost most of his inhibitions. This wasn’t the first time he’d gotten jerked off by a man anyway — it was the first time he’d done it sober when he knew for absolutely certain that it was a man, but as far as he was concerned, if you hadn’t checked the DNA and/or if you were drunk, it didn’t count.
And in prison, it didn’t count in prison either. Or on a farm without women. Any place without women. Any place with fewer than ten women.
“Shit…” Buck definitely didn’t expect it to feel this good. He was only doing it for the money and to avoid awkward situations with Madhu in the future. But he found it more pleasurable than he thought possible, actually better than most any blowjob from any woman he had ever been with. He didn’t know how to take that. He didn’t want Madhu to know he felt that way, so he played it off like it was no big deal. “Damn, man, get deep on there, go’n… Shit… You ain’t best, you know, I’ve had females as good as you.”
Despite that, his words wavered, his voice broke and his knees weakened, and Madhu could tell Buck had rarely felt such unbridled pleasure. Women didn’t give blowjobs with as much enthusiasm as Madhu jacked off Buck’s cock with his mouth, swallowing every inch of that alpha male dickmeat.
A giggle escaped around Madhu’s lips, which were still stuck tightly around Buck’s shaft. Madhu knew perfectly well Buck was lying about how much he enjoyed this. For one thing, Madhu knew he handled dick good — legendarily good — and for a second thing, no one made a point of comparing him to a female unless they wanted to conceal the fact that Madhu was better than a woman.
Madhu didn’t mind. He wasn’t looking for credit, and he could already tell that Buck would gladly do this again whenever Madhu asked. Madhu probably didn’t even need to offer money next time.
Well, Buck would demand money, since he knew Madhu would give it. Madhu would have to pretend to be broke.
At last precum filled Madhu’s mouth, great gobs of it, so much that Madhu first wondered if Buck had blown his wad early. It flowed like milk into Madhu’s mouth, and it coated Madhu’s tongue with its intensely salty, bright flavor. Madhu guzzled down every drop, savoring its sweetness and letting it spill out onto his chin and cheeks.
“Hmmm… You taste good,” Madhu said. He kept his tongue out as he rubbed it up and down on Buck’s shaft, on the underside now, sort of licking, but using his head to move his tongue rather than moving his tongue itself. That sent sparks of pleasure through Buck’s body.
Buck’s eyes opened wide. No girl had ever let him treat her mouth like this. That’s because Buck was dirty and hairy and he usually had an excuse to skip showering — women did not like that. His balls were dark and heavy, low-hanging, begging for Madhu’s attention.
When Madhu’s tongue finally touched his ballsac, Buck moaned exquisitely. It felt good — he had asked girls to do it, but they never would, even if they said they would do it — once they saw how sweaty his balls got, they backed out.
Not Madhu. He loved his ballsacs as sweaty as possible. He loved getting his head real low and letting Buck dip his sac in Madhu’s open mouth. It was just a small piece of his body, but it felt like the whole thing, like the sweat that trickled past Madhu’s waiting lips contained Buck’s entire body in it.
“You wanna ram me?” Madhu asked, his mouth moist and gargly cuz it was full of Buck’s ballsac. He had to repeat it a couple times before lifting Buck’s balls out of his mouth so he could say it more clearly. Then he slurped up all the sweat off his wrinkled scrotum.
“Shit, yeah, c’mon, bend ovuh, baby,” Buck said, clucking his tongue and jumping into position. He bent Madhu over on all fours before stopping himself, as he remembered he was pretending to be reluctant. “I mean… Yeah…” His dick throbbed, precum leaking onto Madhu’s back. Buck hesitated, his body trying to gyrate while his mind slowed himself down. “Uh-huh.”
Madhu giggled. “It’s okay to want it, Buck, you don’t have to pretend. You must be so horny-“
“I’s waitin’ for a female,” Buck said. He blushed and wiped sweat off his face. It was hot in here, but that couldn’t be fixed until he had finished this repair job. His hairy body and head were so overheated he thought he might pass out.
But he wasn’t going to stop. There was something alluring about ramming in sauna-like heat like this, he thought, something aside from the sweat making effective lube. It made him feel like a beast, a feeling that was aided by Madhu’s willingness to let Buck come at him like an animal. No woman would ever want to do it, cuz it might mess up their hair and cuz they don’t wanna be around Buck when he was dripping in sweat.
That was not a problem for Madhu, who bent over and raised his ass so Buck could easily access it.
Buck raced to ram his dick in Madhu’s asshole, both because he was horny and because he thought he might lose his nerve and look weak if he hesitated. He growled and roared, stroking his dick just twice before sliding it into Madhu’s tight, unprepared asshole.
That caused an outpouring of pain, and Madhu howled. He made Buck slow down by reaching his hand behind himself and placing it on Buck’s hairy belly. Buck stopped, with just the first inch or so of his dick in Madhu’s ass. That was enough to cause a wave of both pleasure and pain to wrack Madhu’s body.
“Hmm, okay…” Madhu gritted his teeth. He took a deep breath and his ass slowly relaxed. Buck tried to drill into him as soon as he could, but Madhu stopped him again. “Gimme a sec… Damn, your cock is huge, man, you’re splittin’ me apart.” Madhu wrenched his head back — he exaggerated his pain a bit, since alpha men always liked that.
Buck clucked his tongue and massaged the small of Madhu’s back. He sounded sympathetic but still frustrated that he had to stop. When he sighed and rolled his eyes, his dick twitched and Madhu winced in pain. Buck held back a moan of pleasure.
“Sorry,” Buck said, his deep voice echoing in the low-ceilinged lab. He grinned despite his sullen apology. He had to hold back a laugh at the sight of Madhu writhing and relaxing. Then Buck sucked in his breath as Madhu nodded and spread his cheeks. “You okay?”
“Ram me, Buck! Ram me hard!” Madhu screamed, the pressure in his ass so intense he couldn’t help himself. He clawed at the ground beneath himself, and he squirmed so powerfully he knocked over the stool he had been sitting on just moments ago.
What’s going on? Buck? You okay?
“Ah, shit! Commander Chumbers!” Madhu said. He couldn’t quite bring himself to pull off Buck’s uncut cock, which throbbed all the way inside him, slowly rubbing as Buck began plowing back and forth harder and harder. “He’s coming!”
Buck chuckled throatily. “Let ‘im. He ain’t gonna fire me, can’t find a new handyman,” he said. “He won’t fire you either. He’s a goddamn pussy.”
Madhu nodded. He was too engrossed in the pleasure emanating from his ass to consider whether he agreed with Buck’s conclusion.
What was that? Buck! If you hurt that scientist, I’ll have you court-martialed!
“Fuckin’ fuck-ass jing ma shit!” Buck spat vituperatively without missing a beat as he rammed Madhu. “Why is he assumin’ I’m attackin’ you? You’re the one who shouted, he shouldn’t be makin’ assumptions! Maybe’s you’s assaultin’ me!”
“Uh-huh,” Madhu moaned. He lowered his head to the cool steel floor, which helped him savor the explosion of bliss deep in his ass. He had rarely taken it up the ass this good. Buck’s increasing anger and distraction was part of what made it feel so good — it meant he just plowed back and forth with abandon, without thinking about it, without even being aware of it. His dick rammed at every corner of Madhu’s asshole, which stretched and clenched as he accommodated it.
Buck squatted — simply because he thought that was the most intimidating posture, precisely because it was so awkward. It made his thugs ache almost immediately. But it did make his dick feel good. It gave him the perfect angle to plow in as he approached his orgasm, which he felt growing in his loins.
It probably would have taken longer for him to cum if he weren’t distracted by cursing at Commander Chumbers, whose heavy-booted feet were plainly audible heading this way. Chumbers climbed down the airshaft, which took a minute or two, before he arrived at the micro lab.
He flung the door open just as Madhu sprayed his own wad on the steel floor. Madhu howled and threw his head back, his face reddish and tense. Commander Chumbers’s middle-aged silver-bearded face looked on, in anger, then confusion, then dismay.
“What are you — ? What…?”
“Mind ya own goddamn business,” Buck said with a loud groan, sounding like his entire body was going to fall apart. Jizz flowed into Madhu’s ass. He grunted and growled once more, putting Madhu in a headlock as he rammed his dick all the way in and held it there.
Cum flowed into Madhu’s ass, a great river of it that just kept on going. It almost felt, Madhu thought — but didn’t really believe since it seemed impossible — that Buck kept fucking because he could tell it annoyed and disgusted Commander Chumbers.
“Ah…” Chumbers blushed and tried to avert his eyes, but he kept looking back at it. “Ah…” He was entranced by the sight of Buck’s greasy zheing-lein class body, all hair and muscle and meat, shimmering with sweat as he plowed into Madhu hard.
“Hell, yeah, boy, take it, take it deep, shit…” Buck moaned. He collapsed right onto Madhu’s back as though pinning him down.
Jet after jet of cum filled Madhu up, each drop sending his own orgasm to new heights. It was hot and creamy, sticky, seeping into Madhu’s flesh and dripping onto the puddle of fluids that had already collected on the steel floor.
“Shit…” Buck said with a loud sigh. He glanced up at Commander Chumbers, who frowned at him. His dick throbbed in Madhu’s ass, a few final drops of jizz leaking in. Buck grunted. “You ain’t sposedta watch ya employees naked, sir.”
“You’re not supposed to-!”
“Then fire me,” Buck said. He pulled his dick out and wiped it clean on Madhu’s ass. An intense sense of relief flooded Madhu’s body.
“We don’t hire the likes of you just so you can befowl our-“
Madhu giggled breathlessly, glancing up at Commander Chumbers. Madhu kneeled next to Buck and hugged his muscled torso tight. “Commander Chumbers, shut up.”
Buck laughed. “Yeah, man, shut up. We know you ain’t gonna fire no one on account of you got a deadline to meet. If you fire me, it’ll take you six months to get a new handyman in, and he won’t be any better than me — he’ll be worse, prolly, at fixin’ shit, but he’ll be the same as far as bein’ dirty and stinkin’ the place up and havin’ a big dingdong that scares you. Ain’t that-?”
“I’m not scared of your dick.”
“Then look at it.” Buck stood and crossed his arms over his chest. His massive dick dangled. His muscles all flexed. Commander Chumbers gritted his teeth and lowered his head.
He barely glanced at it before turning to Madhu. “What about you? I can get a new microbiologist in a heartbeat-“
“Then do it,” Madhu said. He shrugged and kept touching Buck’s chest until Buck gently but firmly shoved him away. Madhu smiled.
Buck waved his dick in Chumbers’s direction. “Go’n, sir, why don’t you go get my toolbox and bring it to the command hold. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
After a long pause, Commander Chumbers said, “Clean yourself up, Buck. You’re representing Tao Terraforming-“
“Ain’t no one here to represent to-!”
But Madhu just got dressed, ignoring the argument. It was obviously never going to end. Commander Chumbers really couldn’t afford to delay things — and there was a constant need for repairs here, so without a replacement, the entire place would shut down in days — but he wasn’t so much of a weakling as to ignore Buck’s insolence. Madhu wasn’t interested anymore.
He had gotten what he wanted.

The Cocky Thug

Alboroto is a badass and a ladysman, but when he gets in a bad spot, a weird gringo white dude is willing to give him a few dollars in exchange for a swing on his alpha male meat!

Not that Alboroto needs any help…

Read it now as an ebook!

Or read the whole thing here!

Rob settled into his motel room at the Top Inn and got to work. The weather was beautiful, and the beach was not far from here. He really wanted to go out and bask in the sun, swim in the sea for the first time in years, not to mention eyebang the hunks and hotties whom he suspected would be there. Riverside, California seemed to be full of studs.
So that was what he needed to get done today. He had already written most of it. He just needed to churn the ending out, then he could go out guy-watching — Rob appreciated the male physique, and Riverside was full of splendid examples of it. Any city with this many men had to leave most of them unsatisfied, since there weren’t anywhere’s near as many sexy women that Rob could see.
When he reached a good stopping point, he decided to take a break. All he had to write was another four thousand words or so for the ending, and he’d be done for the day. Rob could write ten thousand words a day without breaking a sweat.
He resolved to at least sketch out the chapter, but then he nearly bumped into the bare, bulging bicep of a young Latino man walking by. Rob caught a whiff of his cheap cologne and a few sweaty notes that made his dick chub up.
The Latino didn’t notice that he had nearly bumped into Rob because he was on his cell phone, clicking his tongue against his teeth as a feminine voice yelled at him. His pants were slung low, and his muscles bulged from his wifebeater, atop which hung a couple shimmering chains.
“I told you, chica, I’ll buy it. I promise. Yo’ birthday ain’t till tomorrow, right? I ain’t late. I’ll pawn some chains, baby, don’t worry. I never let you down,” he said. “Yeah. Alright, baby.” He sighed and whispered. “Yeah, I’m sorry. I said I was sorry. I, uh, I love you, chica. C’mon… I love you. I was drunk then, but I love you, c’mon…” He looked at the phone and tssked his tonge against his teeth again. He put the phone back in his pocket — she had already hung up. He shook his head and lit a cigarette.
“Girl trouble?” Rob asked.
He glanced at Rob like he hadn’t known he was there. He nodded noncommitall and mumbled something like wuzzup.
“I’m Rob,” he said. “I’m a writer.”
“Cool.” He took a drag on his cigarette.
“I’ve got two hundred and three dollars cash in my wallet. I’ll give it to you if you let me jerk you off,” Rob said. He was blunt since it appeared this guy was not going to engage in a conversation.
The Latino looked up at Rob — though built like the proverbial brick shithouse, he was not tall — and glared at him.
He sneered. “Gringo… You should not be talkin’ ‘bout cash in this city,” he said. “I am gonna take yo’ two hundred and three dollars. And I will also let you jerk me off. Those two things ain’t related. I am robbin’ you, motherfucker, I ain’t yo’ rent boy.”
“Uh, okay,” Rob said. “Can we use your room?” He didn’t want to give this guy the chance to steal his laptop. He wasn’t writing this plowing lesbian story all over again, and he hadn’t backed up since Monday.
The Latino nodded, then let him in. He had the room next to Rob’s. As soon as he walked in, he took off his shirt. He kept his chains and his backwards baseball cap on, and he didn’t lower his pants. “You’ll lick balls, right?”
“Yes, sir, I will,” Rob said. He blushed at the sight of the Latino’s rippling muscles. That made Rob’s face and chest turn red, and his dick got a little harder in his pants. The Latino beamed like he didn’t get called sir a lot, which is exactly why Rob had done it. “What should I call you, sir?”
“Gimme that money and start,” he said, sneering at the question he refused to answer.
Rob’s hands shook as he pulled out his wallet. He had exactly two hundred and three dollars in there. He tremblingly handed it over to the Latino, and his hands fumbled with the Latino’s fly.
The word Alboroto was tattooed on his belly; Rob didn’t know what it meant. It looked like a nickname, so that was what Rob decided to call him. He unzipped Alboroto’s jeans and pulled his long, thick dick out through the fly.
“Get to suckin’, gringo,” Alboroto said. He crossed his arms over his bare chest.
Rob kissed the tip to tease him. He produced a mouthful of spit and spat it out on Alboroto’s shaft. Then he sucked the spit back up and repeated that a few times, as he licked the sides and rubbed the entire cockshaft over his lips.
But he didn’t actually put it in his mouth yet. Rob loved provoking macho alpha males like Alboroto, who kept his chin up, avoiding looking down at Rob. His arms were over his chest, and every few seconds he scoffed like he was annoyed Rob hadn’t made him cum yet.
“What do you need to buy for your girlfriend?” Rob asked. He thwacked that massive cock over his face. It was only half-hard yet, throbbing and meaty, slick with saliva. He kept his tongue out of his mouth, rubbing Alboroto’s dick over it as he talked. “Is it a present? I could help. I know a lot about what girls want.”
“What do you know about girls?”
“I’m a romance author.”
“What?”
“Remember I said I’m a writer? I mainly write romance for women,” Rob said. He licked cocksweat off his own lips and rubbed his tongue along the veins that lined Alboroto’s shaft. Rob giggled. “I know a lot about what they want.”
Alboroto scoffed and clicked his tongue against his teeth. “Man, that ain’t relevant. My girl don’t read some gringo’s romance-” He paused like he had just realized something. “Oh. I mean, she read some shit on her kindle-“
“Yeah, that’s it.”
“She read yo’ shit?”
“Well, I dunno about that, prolly not me specifically,” Rob said. “Is she into rugby jocks?” He deep-throated Alboroto’s dick one time, just lowering his head all the way until he gagged and sputtered. His nose nestled in Alboroto’s trimmed pubic hair. Alboroto gasped. His knees buckled and his dick perked up in Rob’s mouth.
His muscles roiling, jaw trembling, Alboroto mumbled something that Rob didn’t understand. It was clear that he was saying that he didn’t know what rugby was and he didn’t pay enough attention to his chica’s interests to know if she read romance novels on her kindle.
Rob pulled off and smiled up at Alboroto, who had a flat expression on his face though his suddenly pulsating cock suggested he was enjoying the dome very much. He just didn’t want to admit it. He shifted his weight.
Rob took a deep breath. “Your dick tastes so good. I bet your chica loves sucking on it.”
He flared his nostrils. “No. She-” His voice broke as Rob deep-throated him again. Alboroto grunted as he again covered up how aroused he was. “She only sucks dick if I, uh… If I do…” His voice trailed off. He looked down at his cock disappearing down Rob’s throat. “I mean, she sucks me off whenevuh I tell her to.”
Rob pulled away and clucked his tongue. “Oh, you poor baby. I think all girls should suck their man off every day,” he said. Always tell ‘em what they wanna hear…
“Hell yeah, you should run for president,” Alboroto mumbled. He groaned as his dick spasmed in Rob’s mouth.
“Is it okay if I lick your balls, sir?” Rob asked. He giggled and blushed.
Alboroto nodded. “Yeah, man, open up. You like that?” Alboroto loved it when his girl sucked on his balls, but she hated it and had only done so once.
“I love it. I bet you have tasty balls,” Rob said with a laugh.
“Si.”
Rob turned his head upwards and opened his mouth. Alboroto pulled his heavy, hairy ballsack out of the fly of his jeans, and he plopped it right in Rob’s waiting mouth. Instantly the flavor of Alboroto’s sweat assaulted Rob’s senses. He moaned and gurgled, producing more saliva and tickling Alboroto’s scrotum skin.
Alboroto grunted and heaved some more. He kept his arms folded over his chest, accentuating his thick pecs; his muscles kept tensing and flexing and he had to force his hands to remain in position. He closed his eyes and moaned, but bit his lip to stifle it.
“You okay, man,” Alboroto said with a dry, throaty chuckle. He wrinkled his nose. “You okay at this. I had better. Pity you ain’t got tits.”
Rob said he was sorry for not being a girl, but his mouth was full of sweaty balls, so all that came out was a moist, muffled sound. He licked Alboroto’s scrotum, lapping at it as Alboroto shifted his weight. His eyes bugged out like he had rarely had someone suck his balls so perfectly.
Finally Alboroto couldn’t bear to keep his arms folded over his chest anymore. He smacked the motel room wall behind himself and threw his head back. He groaned so loud the sound resonated in Rob’s ears, and he could even feel the vibrations in Alboroto’s cock.
“C’mon, lick my dick.” He grabbed Rob’s head as though going to throat him down. But then the feel of Rob’s hair stopped him — it was short and entirely too masculine. Alboroto didn’t want to touch him.
But he was enjoying the dome. He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. He put his arms over his chest again, though he found it difficult to keep them there.
Alboroto had never gotten dome from a man before. He would have never admitted that. When he was eighteen, he spent three weeks in prison. When he came back, he told his friends that he had turned a inmate into a whore and had throated him until he begged for mercy.
None of that had been true but it had made Alboroto seem like a real gangsta. He was glad to have an opportunity to really do it for once, so now he could truthfully say he wasn’t a bullshitter about this (or at least, it wasn’t completely bullshit). His friends still called him Violador sometimes in reference to it.
But he couldn’t admit, even to himself right now, how good the dome from Rob was — he always swore that prison dome was sloppy and crappy. Alboroto had been complaining to his friends for years about how he needed a girl who would suck his dick like a good, submissive bitch should.
“Swallow it deep, man, get it all the way in there… Bajo”
He wondered if he should ram this gringo in the ass. A part of him said no, of course not, that was too gross. But another part of him said to do it. He had been bragging about plowing that man in prison — he had told people he rammed that prison punk until he cried — so maybe it would be good to actually do it once. He’d never tell his friends about this one, but at least he wouldn’t be lying when he said he did it.
In truth, his friends would not think less of him for ramrodding a man. That would simply make him an hombre, which was fine. In his culture, men were either hombres who rammed or pasivos who got rammed. It wasn’t bad to be an hombre. That made you a real man, especially if you rammed your pasivo in a hard and cruel way.
So that was what he intended to do. But first, Alboroto called his friend Jamaal. “Yo.”
Yo, sup.
“You got that Carter Ave deal, right?
Yeah. Why you callin’ ‘bout that again?
“Just wanted to make sure, nigga.”
Whatchoo doin’?
“Gettin’ head. You wanna hear?” Alboroto smiled and held the phone low, right next to where his cock plunged down Rob’s throat. His dick was rock-hard now, precum flowing like piss. If he wasn’t distracted by his discomfort with being with a man, Alboroto thought he would have cum already.
Sounds nice, man. I thought yo’ chica wasn’t doin’ that anymore-
“Shut the fuck up, nigga. My bitch does it when I tell her to.”
So that is her?
“I ain’t say that. I ain’t say it was a her at all. I gots me a prison bitch, Jamaal.”
Oh yeah, right, just like that one in prison, huh?
“Fuck you.”
E’rybody know you a big bullshitter, Durango. Tha’s prolly some whore you paid like two bucks for dome.
“Man, Jamaal-“
How much she charge to take her teeth out first? You know you gonna have to pay for antibiotics, right? Would-a been cheaper to pay more fo’ a better whore.
“Ram you, Jamaal! Shut your mouth,” Getting annoyed, Alboroto resumed throating Rob down, since at least that way he could express his frustration, even if it wasn’t aimed at the right person. He gripped Rob’s head with one hand, holding the phone with the other — a few minutes ago he had found it distracting to touch a man’s hair, but now he was both hornier and more distracted, so he didn’t think of that. “Yeah, you here that, Jamaal? Huh? That’s my balls slappin’ on my bitch’s chin.”
Oh yeah? That must be nice. Ain’t nobody evuh manage to suck my dick that deep, y’know. Mouths don’t come that big.
“I’m gonna come throat yo’ face next,” Alboroto said with a snarl. He hung up the phone and threw it on the bed. He closed his eyes and mumbled to himself. He should never have called Jamaal. Jamaal was going to tell everyone that Alboroto was mess with a toothless herpes-ridden crackwhore.
He tried to banish those thoughts from his mind. He focused on the pleasure twinging up from his veiny cockshaft as saliva dripped down it in clumps, landing in his shortened pubic hair — his chica demanded he keep himself trimmed. He pumped his hips, slamming his dick down deep in Rob’s throat.
“You gonna make me nut, boy…” Alboroto said. He didn’t mention that his girlfriend’s toothy, off-rhythm sucking never brought him to orgasm so easily, on those rare occasions when he talked her into trying it.
When he felt an orgasm coming on quickly, Alboroto grabbed Rob and pulled him off his dick. He felt momentarily disappointed as his dick was now without attention. It felt cold, and it throbbed like it demanded someone touching it, sucking on it, taking it inside some tight, dark hole.
“You gonna give up the ass, gringo?”
“Yes, sir,” Rob said. He teased Alboroto by standing up and stretching his legs. He knew he had a nice plump ass, which he displayed after dropping his jeans. He made a big show of slowly bending over the bed, knowing that Alboroto would just get more frustrated as he waited. “Do you have lube?”
Alboroto nodded. He pulled a tube out of a duffel bag, out of which he had been living for the past month. He poured the lube onto the top of Rob’s asscrack, so it seeped down into his hole. It was cold at first, and Rob let out a shiver.
Then he felt an explosion of pressure in his asshole. As always, it hurt at first, more than it felt good, especially this time since Alboroto was not trying to be gentle.
But within a few seconds of that throbbing brown meat entering him, Rob moaned as a shard of pre-orgasmic pleasure hit him. He was already rock-hard from the taste of Alboroto’s dick, and now his excited prostate sent him to the next level.
“Ah, yes, stick it in me, Alboroto…” he said. His voice broke and he hung his head.
“You ain’t gotta tell me that,” Alboroto said. He saw Rob’s wallet on the floor and fished it out as he worked his dick in, centimeter by centimeter. He didn’t want to steal the man’s credit cards, that was too dangerous, but he did want to see if he had any emergency cash. Sure enough, there was a folded-up fifty dollar bill, which Alboroto pocketed. He wanted to distract the gringo, so he grabbed his own clean wifebeater and used it like a tether in the guy’s mouth.
Rob bit down hard on the fabric, which smelled of Alboroto’s sweat and his cheap cologne, a generic-brand body spray by the scent of it. That made Rob’s dick throb and leak precum onto the mattress — Rob loved the funky smell of unwashed men.
“Gonna ramroad you the way a vato should,” Alboroto said. “Get on your back, bitch.” His chest was dappled with sweat. He dropped the wifebeater, pulled his dick out and rolled Rob over. Right after being released from prison when he was eighteen, Alboroto’s uncle had told him how a real hombre should ram his pasivo. He said that the pasivo has to be on his back, with his legs in the air, both because that was similar to a position you might fuck a woman in and because it meant he couldn’t run away — Alboroto’s uncle had been in prison off and on throughout his life, in the US, Mexico and also Guatemala briefly.
Now he really wanted that position, even if it did mean he’d be able to see Rob’s cock as he jacked himself off. That just seemed gross. Alboroto couldn’t imagine how anyone took dick in the ass and liked it, and seeing Rob’s hard cock made it impossible to avoid thinking about that.
So he closed his eyes and pumped his hips. His cock was all the way in Rob’s ass. That had been so easy, and it felt so good, he didn’t even notice that he felt no real resistance. He had never fucked a girl who didn’t complain about his dick in her ass. It was nice to be able to pound away as hard as he could, knowing he wouldn’t have to hear constant whining and telling him to take a break.
He held Rob’s feet in position, and he was so aroused he didn’t even notice Rob’s leg hair scratching against Alboroto’s flesh. Alboroto slammed his dick in and out, marveling at how tight Rob’s ass was, yet loose enough that Alboroto could ram him hard.
The more he plowed back and forth, the less inhibited he got. Alboroto slapped Rob’s asscheeks, which his girl hated, and smiled as that made Rob clench and moan.
Waves of pleasure erupted from deep within Alboroto. He was about to orgasm when his cell phone rang. He knew who it was even before he pulled his cell phone out of his pants pocket. It was his chica, Rosa.
“Keep quiet, man,” he said. He answered the phone. “Hey, baby.”
You pawn those chains yet?
“It’s been like twenty minutes, chica.”
So? My birthday is still tomorrow, and if you think I’m lettin’ my sister show me up, you got another thing comin’.
“Baby, I tol’ you, I’d buy it,” he said. He sniffled. Alboroto spoke quietly and plainly to her, his bravado largely gone. He kept plowing as he talked, but he moved his hips slowly, both to keep himself from orgasming as he talked and because he didn’t want to make noise. He sighed.
Don’t you roll your eyes at me, nigga. I can hear you-
“You can’t hear my eyes roll.”
Yes, I can, you no-good asshole. You fuckin’ some slut right now?
“No, baby!”
I want that perfume, Durango. You promised it. You always say that you buy me nice things because you’re such a gangsta, but you never actually do it-
“I said I’d do it! I’ll buy it!” he said. He stopped moving with his dick all the way in Rob’s ass, so deep Rob’s balls even touched Alboroto’s crotch-hair. His dick throbbed against Rob’s prostate, making Rob writhe as he tried to avoid crying out. Alboroto was very annoyed, especially that she had called him Durango — that’s what she always called him, but Rob had started to call him Alboroto because he didn’t know his real name and it was tattooed on his belly. Alboroto had never gotten his girl to call him that. She constantly “forgot” and called him Durango. He felt like a loser complaining about it to her, but it did annoy him, and as he had been listening to Rob moan about how much he loved Alboroto’s cock sliding into him, Alboroto was now reminded of why he liked to be called by his street name.
The perfume was one recently released by a Latina rapper named Reinita Ray. Alboroto didn’t see what the big deal was — it was just a perfume — but his girlfriend idolized Reinita Ray, and her sister had gone to a concert that Alboroto had “accidentally” (but really on-purpose) forgotten to buy tickets for. So he couldn’t fail to buy the perfume as well.
You had better, nigga. You gonna pawn those chains?
“Nah. I’m robbin’ this gringo instead. Don’t call me again, I’m in the middle of a robbery,” he said. He hung up the phone before she could say anything. He turned it off. That oughta sound like a real gangsta, he thought to himself, and it wasn’t even a lie, not really.
He rammed so hard his balls slapped against Rob’s asscheeks. One of his hands had wandered over while he was on the phone, and now it rested above Rob’s neck, holding him in place. Alboroto gave him a squeeze.
It wasn’t tight enough to strangle Rob, but it did get his attention. His mind was swimming with pleasure, as he stroked himself off and wiggled on the bedspread. The blankets and sheets were wadded up by now, on the foot of the bed.
It was obvious Alboroto was about to cum. Rob orgasmed as well, his prostate singing and tingling with every thrust of Alboroto’s cock into him. Rob’s entire body tensed and clenched. He threw his head back and screamed so loud people outside the motel room could hear.
As cum flew over Rob’s stomach, Alboroto wrinkled his nose. He knew a lot of hombres didn’t allow their pasivos to jack off while they got rammed — he wished he had thought of that before, because now he could smell semen, which made his stomach churn. He even saw it trickle down Rob’s flesh, most of it going over the side and onto the mattress, but one rivulet ran down to Alboroto’s cock. If he wasn’t on the verge of orgasming as well, he would have stopped to punish Rob for getting cum on him.
“Take it, man, yeah…”
But he didn’t want to stop, even if he did feel another man’s semen coating his dick. That made him shudder with disgust. His muscles tensed. His gold and platinum changed tinkled when they clanged against each other as he rammed.
“Take it, gringo, yeah, you gonna get filled up…” He moaned as he came. He forgot about pretending he would rather be plowing a girl — he would, of course, but only if she had an ass exactly like this gringo. He strangled Rob for real, for just a few seconds, long enough to make him wiggle and clench his ass again. It felt like he was tearing that ass up, which made Alboroto feel like a tough guy, like his father.
“Oh god, Alboroto, your dick is so perfect…”
He slammed his dick in and out, even as it became uncomfortably sensitive. He liked hearing Rob enthusiastically beg for more, and he liked watching how every thrust of his hips made Rob squirm a little more. He also liked how his cumload made a big mess the more he rammed, big waves of bubbly, frothy cum coating his crotch and soaking into the mattress.
“You done, punk? Huh?” Alboroto asked — his uncle had said this was how you finished inside a pasivo in prison, so Alboroto wanted to try it out — “Huh? Answer me, bitch. You want me to pull out? I ain’t gonna pull out till you beg me to do it. Gonna stay inside ya-“
“Don’t ever pull out,” Rob said, his voice weak and tremulous. His entire body shook as aftershocks of his orgasm washed over him. He moaned again and clutched the mattress beneath himself.
Alboroto’s dick slowly limpened inside Rob’s guts. “Tell me when you done, bitch. Tell me…” His menacing voice trailed off as he realized this wasn’t going to work. Maybe in prison where you weren’t doing it on a comfortable bed, and you didn’t have nice lube. But here, this gringo was in no hurry to get Alboroto to pull out. That meant Alboroto had painted himself into a corner — he was too proud to remove his cock without hearing Rob beg, since he had sworn he wouldn’t. If Rob wasn’t going to beg, there was nothing Alboroto could do without losing face.
“Can you move your dick a little to the left?” Rob asked. “There’s a spot there…” He groaned and smiled as Alboroto’s dick shifted and another wave of pleasure hit him. In actuality, there was a lot of discomfort too, now that they had both cum. But Rob liked making things difficult for Alboroto — it brought out the machismo in him. Alboroto’s muscles tensed and flexed.
“Ain’t gonna pull out till you make me, bitch. Beg me for it,” Alboroto said. He spat on Rob’s face, but Rob just sucked it up. That made Alboroto gag, as did the sight of his dick in Rob’s hairy, frothy-cummed asshole. Could he just pull out? Embarrassing himself in front of some random gringo who wasn’t even from Riverside shouldn’t be a problem, he thought. But he still didn’t want to do it.
Rob grinned. It finally got uncomfortable enough he gave in. “Please, sir, take your dick out, so I can clean it off.”
“Alright,” Alboroto said, relieved to be done. He pulled his dick out, deliberately keeping his head up so he didn’t see it — he didn’t want to know how nasty his cock looked right now. He hadn’t thought to make his bitch clean his dick off, but that was a good idea.
Rob used kleenex to wipe the shaft off. He used most of an entire box, sopping up all the cum and the assjuice and the spit that still clung to it. Then he kissed Alboroto’s dick right on the shaft.
Alboroto shuddered as his knees buckled. His dick spasmed, reawakening all of the pleasure that had diminished since he finished plowing. His voice broke as he mumbled for Rob to quit playing with it. “Damn, gringo. You really like cock, huh?”
“I like your cock, baby,” Rob said. He leaned back on the bed, naked, until Alboroto barked at him to get dressed.
“We done now, gringo. Unless you got more cash I ain’t rob off you yet,” he said. He put his wifebeater back on.
Rob slowly put his clothes on while Alboroto grinned at him. Rob made a kissy face, and Alboroto looked away. “Hey, Alboroto,” Rob said. “I don’t have any more cash. But I’ll write you a check for a hundred dollars if you kiss me, with tongue. You don’t have any way of knowing if the check will clear. You’ll just have to trust me.”
“No way! Fuck no! I ain’t no kinda pansy,” Alboroto said. His blood boiled, but his anger came mainly from the fact that he knew he was going to say yes — a hundred bucks and all he had to do was spend a couple seconds pretending he was with a girl? He could do that. “Absolutely not, gringo. That is fuckin’ nasty.”
But then before Rob could say anything, Alboroto grabbed him in his arms and threw him back on the bed, where Rob felt the wet spots and smelled the cumstains they had just created. Alboroto’s muscular chest flexed beneath Rob’s grasp as Alboroto kissed him right on the lips.
His tongue plunged into Rob’s mouth and stayed there, completely still, not moving even when Rob’s tongue touched it. It was like Alboroto thought sticking his tongue in Rob’s mouth was okay, but moving it around made it feel too weird.
To Rob, Alboroto’s awkwardness made it even better. That was what he liked. It was, objectively speaking, the worst kiss ever. But Rob got to grope Alboroto’s strapping back and even his plump asscheeks beneath his jeans, before Alboroto finally pulled away.
He growled. “You best write that check, bitch. And if it don’t cash… I swear to God, I will track you down. Your address is on the check, y’know.”
“Oh right,” Rob said, making it sound like he had really forgotten that. The address on the check was in Florida, and if Alboroto did go there, he’d find just a UPS store. But Rob didn’t let on. The check would clear.
Alboroto beamed like he had just gotten away with something as Rob wrote out the check. He put machismo in the memo line. “I’ll leave that top line blank,” Rob said, “since you don’t want to tell me your real name.”
He nodded and swiped the check. “Now get out, bitch.”
Rob did as he was told. He was glad to be away from Alboroto safely, even if he was also going to miss that cock.

Humping the Enforcer

Avery has to pay protection money to the mafia, but when the don comes by too, Avery is given a gift that just won’t stop giving! He gets to do what he wants to the crude enforcer Joey, who has muscles and swagger and not a lot of brains.

The don is frustrated by Joey’s idiocy, which gives Avery a chance to explore another episode in the world of Twink on Top!

Read it now as an ebook!

Or read the whole thing here!

When Avery Flowers saw Joey at the door of his shop, he felt the usual surge of feelings: fear, annoyance, rage and a dash of arousal, since Joey had an alluring and arousing physique.
But this time, the mafia enforcer Joey Rizzoli was accompanied by a stout older man in a fine suit.
That older man kept a faint grin, and he stopped to look at the flowers on the counter. Joey, as usual, stone-faced, sturdy as a chair. He looked vaguely displeased at everything, even the flowers that filled the store.
Avery sighed. Running a florist shop in Little Italy in New York meant he had to pay protection money to the Mafia. He had been doing it since before the shop even opened. Today was the fourth of the month, making it Joey Rizzoli’s regular day to collect a payment.
The money was in an envelope hidden in the register. Avery made sure to put it there this morning. He liked to tease Joey, who was gruff, mean and macho, riddled with muscle and bravado. He had a temper and a cocky attitude, but he was barred by Mafia rules from hurting anyone who paid proper protection money. That meant Avery could flirt with him, squeeze his biceps, repeatedly ask him out on a date as if Joey was a slutty woman, and Joey just accepted it like an awkward statue made of frowns. He occasionally growled and flexed his pecs beneath the ill-fitting suit he always wore.
But Avery had no idea who the portly older man was at first. That changed when the man took off his hat and spoke — this is the Don! Don Caprinelli! Avery gasped and bit his own lip.
“Good afternoon, Mister Flowers,” the stout man said. “My name is Tranquillo Caprinelli.”
“Yo, you should address him as Don Caprinelli,” Joey cut in, barking at Avery as though he had been disrespectful already.
Don Caprinelli held a hand up to silence Joey, whose crude yet handsome face scrunched up. The Italian flag tattoo on his neck stretched when he tightened his visage. He wrinkled his nose at Avery, and his broad shoulders expanded as he took a deep breath. From their body language, Avery gathered that the Don often told Joey to take a deep breath and calm down and that Joey was annoyed every time he said it.
“It’s nice to meet you, Don Caprinelli,” Avery said. He bowed his head respectfully.
“My daughter’s wedding is this month, Mister Flowers,” he said in a smooth voice like melted caramel, “And in recognition of that joyous day, I am asking that you spend the money you would normally pay for Caprinelli security services. Spend it on yourself or on the charity of your choosing, and have a joyous month.” He smiled.
“Oh! Okay, thank you, Don Caprinelli-“
“Do not mention it, and as always, you and your beautiful shop here remain under my protection for the entire month. And the usual perks at the Hotel Sweet,” he said with a smile. He shook Avery’s hand.
“Oh… thank, you, that’s… the Hotel Sweet?” Avery had no idea what that meant. The Hotel Sweet was a rundown motel down the street. It was known as a hotbed of prostitution.
“He doesn’t… Don, he, uh… has never been interested,” Joey said. He stammered like he had done something wrong, and when Don Caprinelli shot him a quizzical look, he looked down and bit his lip.
Don Caprinelli turned to Avery, looked at him with shock in his eyes, then examined him head to toe. He nodded in realization.
“Yeah, sorry,” Avery said. “I’m not into anything down at the Hotel Sweet… Unless Joey ever hangs out there.” He smirked as Joey, who, predictably, blushed. His glowering face looked down at his feet, then glanced at the flowers as though he was suddenly very interested in petunias.
“He does not spend time at the Hotel Sweet…” Don Caprinelli smiled, then spoke quickly with Joey in Italian. Joey let out a laugh as they talked — the first time he had laughed in all the time Avery knew him. Their conversation sounded like a negotiation to Avery. Joey continued to laugh, nervously, with many cautious glances towards Avery. He kissed the crucifix around his neck. Don Caprinelli’s Italian was fluid and rhythmic, while Joey’s was halting and sounded like mispronounced English.
“Ten minutes,” Joey said softly — another first: the first time he ever sounded less than totally confident. He had been collecting extortion money from Avery for years and never showed any hesitance or uncertainty about what to do.
“What-?”
“I have worked out a deal. I give all the businessmen who pay me a free weekly visit to one of the ladies at the Hotel Sweet. Since Joey failed to offer you anything as a substitute for that perk, he has agreed to give you ten minutes with him. You may do anything you wish to Joey for ten minutes,” Don Caprinelli said.
Joey spoke with that thick New York-Italian stawk that had always turned Avery on so good. “No stickin’ it in.” He looked down at his feet yet again when Don Caprinelli clucked his tongue and shot him a harsh look.
“Uh… what?”
“You can… like… gimme a handjob, or whatever. No penetration,” he said. He sniffed and pushed past Avery into the backroom, Avery’s office. Joey’s heavy body barely fit in the doorway, and Avery felt a surge of body heat and intense desire as Joey’s suited muscles brushed past him. Joey called back to Don Caprinelli, saying something in Italian.
Don Caprinelli chuckled. “He is afraid you will hold him down and cornhole him-“
“That ain’t what I said!”
“I tell him you are three times the boy’s size, Joey, you can overpower him if he tries to cornhole you,” Don Caprinelli said. He smiled and followed into the backroom. “I will not watch, but I will stand at the doorway.”
Avery turned to enter the office, still trying to comprehend what, exactly, was happening, Was Joey really letting him give a handjob? Joey stood there in front of him, scowling, with his arms across his chest. He filled out that suit nicely; it looked even better on him than a nicer suit would have, Avery thought, the undersized shirt and oversized jacket making him look like the world’s meanest high-schooler getting ready for an away game.
“No poop or pee neither,” Joey said. “And no putting cigarettes out on me. And no farting.” He threw his hands in the air. “No puttin’ it in!”
“In where? By whom?”
“Any hole. Anyone, man,” Joey said. “Just gimme a handjob or whatever.”
“Oh, I think I can get more creative than that,” Avery said. He smiled as Don Caprinelli chuckled behind him. He quickly stripped off his clothes.
Joey snickered at Avery’s small body, pale skin and weak muscles. “How old are you, man?”
“I’m twenty-four.”
“You look like you’re about twelve. Gonna feel like I’m lettin’ a little boy grope me up,” he said.
“You’re exaggerating, I don’t even get carded for cigarettes. I just have a youthful, girlish glow,” Avery said. His dick was out, and he tried not to feel self-conscious — not about his cock size, which was ample, just that he was so much smaller than Joey.
Joey didn’t look like he bought into Avery’s defense. He faced away as Avery unbuttoned his shirt. It was cute to see Joey nervous for the first time after he had been extorting money from Avery for years. Avery slowly stripped off Joey’s suit and suit.
He kissed his nipples beneath the tight a-shirt he wore. Joey’s pecs rippled, sending a thrill up Avery’s spine. His hands roamed over Joey’s muscled side, which made Joey twitch out of either anxiety or ticklishness or a bit of both.
Then Avery pulled the t-shirt off Joey’s body — or he lifted it up, anyway, Joey was too tall for Avery to actually take it all the way off. Joey removed it himself. He had a broad chest and a nearly flat belly, with just a hint of meat there. Avery’s mouth moved down to that belly, licking the trail of black hairs there leading down past his belly button.
He undid the belt holding up Joey’s slacks. Joey let out a strange sort of mewling sound as Avery dropped his pants, then pulled down the plain tight white boxers he wore.
His massive cock sprung forth. Avery gasped and smiled at Joey’s cocky grin. He must have liked showing off his big dick.
Don Caprinelli clucked his tongue. “You like his monster, huh? That’s the difference between ‘fairy’ men and girls. Girls run screaming from it-“
“No, they don’t, Don, that happened one time,” Joey said with a hangdog look. “One girl walked away because she said it was too big.”
Avery stroked his shaft, slowly at first, as Joey spoke. Then he sped up, as Joey’s face went from annoyed to surprised at how aroused he was. He looked down at his dick as though he had never seen it get hard before. Its long shaft throbbed beneath Avery’s grasp.
“And Anita?” Don Caprinelli said, snickering from the doorway, where he remained, still facing away from the scene.
“She didn’t see it-“
“She saw you. She said he looks like a caveman. I bring him a girl to bed, as a present for his years of loyal service, and he acts like a goon-“
“Don Caprinelli…” Joey’s voice turned into a moan as his dick pulsated in Avery’s hand.
“Shut up, you embarrassed me. The sissy probably understands girls. Maybe he can help you avoid the same fate if I ever bring you another girl,” Don Caprinelli said.
Avery smiled, stroking Joey faster and faster. Joey’s muscles rippled and he closed his eyes like he was ready to cum. Avery wasn’t ready to let that happen, but he liked seeing Joey prepare for it. He chewed on his lower lip, and his biceps flexed as he flailed his arms, too embarrassed to touch either Avery or himself at the moment.
“I’m no expert in women. They’re mystifying to me too,” Avery said, hands working hard at Joey’s cock. “Virtually any girl could dress like a slut and get all the big hairy macho men to bang them, but almost none of them do that. That doesn’t make any sense to me. If I was a girl, I’d be such a cheap lay. I’d suck your dick every day, Joey, I’d let you and all your buddies demolish me.”
Joey chuckled dryly, like he wanted to laugh harder but was too distracted by his dick leaking precum into Avery’s hand. Don Caprinelli guffawed from the doorway, laughing so hard he bent over and slapped his own thigh.
He let go of Joey’s cock. Joey’s eyes bugged out, and he flexed his hips, humping the air. His muscles twitched again, and he let out an involuntary growl. It seemed he wanted Avery to continue jacking him off, but he didn’t want to admit that because Don Caprinelli would hear him.
Avery walked around Joey, and his heart skipped a beat when he saw his ass. It was thick and plump, but firmer than Avery thought possible. Joey was tall enough that Avery had to reach up to massage those round cheeks, which were as hard as overinflated volleyballs — it was clear that Joey was tense, which was part of the reason his flesh was hard, but it was also clear that Joey’s ass was simply bursting with strength.
“Will you bend over?” Avery asked.
“You can’t put nothin’ in my ass!”
“I won’t,” Avery said. He lightly caressed the strapping muscles of Joey’s back. He felt Joey sigh through his spine, then Joey bent over and grabbed his ankles.
That position forced his asscheeks to separate, revealing his hairy hole. But as much as Avery wanted to stick his fingers and tongue (and everything else) in there, it was clear Joey wouldn’t cotton to that. So Avery just massaged the hairy crack of Joey’s ass, then had him bend his knees until he was crouched.
Avery hadn’t really known where he was taking this until he saw Joey in that position, his great, hairy trunk-like thighs pressed close together. Avery stripped off his own clothes while both Joey and Don Caprinelli were facing away from him.
Then he lined up behind Joey’s crouching body. Joey winced and trembled when he felt Avery’s cock pushing into his back, but Avery made sure to wrap his fingers around Joey’s cock first. Joey sighed and forced his muscles to relax as his dick re-hardened beneath Avery’s grasp.
“Damn, fairy… what is this?” He asked.
Avery didn’t answer. He pushed his dick lower still, through the tangle of coarse black hairs on Joey’s thighs. Joey didn’t even seem to notice as Avery’s dick slipped between his legs and poked out below his crotch.
Since Joey was crouched over but was much taller than Avery, the simplest position was for Avery to kneel behind him. He wrapped his arms around Joey’s broad body, his left hand straining to reach Joey’s nipples while his right stroked Joey off.
“Uh, oh…” Joey realized Avery’s dick was between his thighs. He cleared his throat. “Don Caprinelli… Is it… a sin if you… If uh, his… dick is uh, not in me, but…-“
“Then no, Joey, please spare me the details. Don’t let him put it in a hole. That is what the Church teaches,” Don Caprinelli said. He kept his face angled well away. “Is the little fairy hurting you?”
“No!” Joey said.
“Then it is fine. You can stop him if you wish. I would give you a girl instead, but you would only scare her away,” Don Caprinelli said. “You should develop some culture and sophistication, Joey.”
Joey hung his head and sighed. It was obvious he had heard this lecture many times before. “Yes, Don.”
“I brought him to the symphony, Mister Flowers,” Don Caprinelli said. “He fell asleep. I pay for his tuxedo and for a girl to sit next to him, and he falls asleep. He snores so loud the oboist dropped his instrument in the third movement-“
Avery snorted and held back laughter.
“He tells the girl he prefers hot air balloons-“
“I like Led Zeppelin!”
“I tell you, he is a caveman. I have never been more mortified, Mister Flowers,” Don Caprinelli said. He still faced the other way in the door threshold, so he didn’t see Avery dry-humping Joey’s thighs.
Avery thought it was a funny story, but the funniest aspect was how embarrassed Joey was. He had always looked uncomfortable in the suit he wore to extort Avery, but now it was obvious how humiliated he was by his lack of class. Joey’s face burned a bright red, and his thighs tensed, squeezing Avery’s cock.
The increase in tightness sent a shiver of sexual pleasure up Avery’s spine. He began humping harder and faster, and he reached around to Joey’s long cock with both hands.
“It smells like a brothel in there,” Don Caprinelli said. He wrinkled his nose. “It smells like Hotel Sweet.”
But Avery was too aroused to answer, and Joey was either too tense, too horny or too embarrassed. He grunted, nostrils flaring as his ass puckered, its iron-hard globes pressed against the smooth, slim flesh of Avery’s torso.
Joey slowly leaned forward. It didn’t seem he was really aware he was doing it, at least not until he was on his belly, where Avery couldn’t jack him off anymore because his dick was jammed against the floor.
But that allowed Avery to crawl atop Joey’s back. He was so much shorter than Joey that his face pressed into the center of Joey’s back, which was dappled with sweat and a few stray black hairs. Avery licked him while Joey growled, out of either discomfort or desire or even ticklishness again, it wasn’t clear which.
Meanwhile Avery slammed his dick in and out of Joey’s thigh. It really did feel exactly like cornhole a man in the ass, Avery thought, just without the hole — the thighs felt like an asscrack, so Avery felt like he was ramming his dick between asscheeks.
And that thought gave him an idea. He crawled up Joey’s body until his cock throbbed in between Joey’s cheeks. Then he humped the hot, sweaty groove there, his dick pulsating against the tight rim of Joey’s asshole.
“Nope, nope,” Joey said after just a few seconds. He rolled over, pushing Avery onto the ground beside him. “I ain’t doing that, fairy.”
“Joey-!” Don Caprinelli snapped.
“I’m sorry, Don, he was trying to-“
“You can simply be more polite. This is why girls run in terror from you,” Don Caprinelli said.
“He ain’t a girl-“
“Politeness is mandatory, Joey.”
Joey sighed and shook his head. “Mister Flowers, I… You best not… I mean… I would prefer you did not… touch my, uh… You know… Back there… My… I don’t know the polite word for it, Don.”
“Anus,” Avery said with a giggle. The word made Joey chuckle too, like a little boy laughing at a fart joke.
Avery wasn’t surprised that Joey had backed out of the ass-humping. But now he was laying on his back on the floor, his rock-hard dick sticking straight up. Avery mounted his thighs and pressed his dick right next to Joey’s.
Joey’s body remained stiff and hard, almost as rock-solid as his dick, which pulsated hotly in Avery’s fingers as he jacked them both off together. His other hand tweaked Joey’s nipples, and caressed his broad shoulders. Joey’s chest was once again hard, the tension making it impossible for him to relax his muscles.
When the first few drops of precum lubricated Avery’s hand, he realized Joey wasn’t going to let this continue for long. Joey heaved and gasped for breath as though he was terrified of how aroused he was. It was his dick producing the precum, but Avery thought he shouldn’t point that out or risk angering Joey.
Avery instead lowered his body until he could once again stick his dick between Joey’s thighs. This time he was on Joey’s front side, so his face nestled in Joey’s chest, between his mountainous pecs. Joey’s dick dug into Avery’s flesh above his crotch.
Then Avery’s rod plunged between those thighs, reawakening Avery’s arousal and making his shaft spasm. He gasped and even lightly nibbled on Joey’s skin, which made him twitch and bark.
“Hey! Don Caprinelli, he’s trying to eat me!” Joey said like a boy tattling on his friend.
Don Caprinelli snorted. Avery didn’t see Don Caprinelli glance over with a sick look on his face, because Avery was slamming his dick up and down between Joey’s thighs. Joey’s dick throbbed and leaked precum onto Avery’s belly and chest.
“It is fine. It is dry-humping,” Don Caprinelli said. “Or it is humping, at least. I do not think he is a cannibal.”
Then a potent orgasm began, deep within Avery, who only dimly heard Joey sigh and mutter to himself. Avery gasped and threw his head back. Joey looked down at him from his reclining position, eyes wide like he had no idea where this was ending up. He watched in horror as bliss wracked Avery’s body, and Avery buried his face in Joey’s mafia-tatted chest.
Meanwhile Avery’s whole body spasmed and roiled atop Joey’s powerful frame. He rammed his dick back and forth as he licked and sucked hickeys onto Joey’s pecs. His dick spewed cum down onto the floor, making a big mess on the backside of Joey’s thighs and ass.
“Oh god, he’s doin’ it…”
Avery felt the most intense pleasure of his life rolling through him. He writhed and moaned into Joey’s body, his spine arching as the orgasm overwhelmed his body. By the time he was done, his skin was dripping with sweat, both his own and Joey’s.
He lifted his head. Joey was still rock-hard, with a vaguely nauseated look on his face, and Avery gripped his dick with both hands. He rubbed it against his smooth chest, intending to get Joey off that way, but then Joey got his attention.
Joey pulled lightly on his hair until Avery looked up at him, still gasping from his own post-orgasmic pleasure. He made a shushing face, then grasped an imaginary penis in front of his face. He pretended to jack it off, using his tongue to push against his cheeks.
“Damn, you one nasty fairy…”
Avery was still recovering from the aftershocks of his orgasm, so he was confused at first. After a moment, he realized what Joey was asking for — they both glanced up at Don Caprinelli, who faced the other way with his arms across his chest. He gave no indication he realized that Joey’s actions and his words were no longer quite linked.
That was interesting, Avery thought, he had assumed that Joey didn’t want to do anything and Don Caprinelli had talked him into it. Now it seemed that Joey’s reluctance was, at least in part, a show for Don Caprinelli’s benefit — maybe Joey had only been unpleasant about it because Don Caprinelli would punish him for being enthusiastic.
Without a peep, Avery lowered his head until he could swallow Joey’s dick. He tasted that salty cocktip, precum flowing like water from a tap as Joey’s aroused body spasmed. But it only lasted a moment: Joey must have been on the verge of orgasm already. From the moment Avery’s lips encircled his dick, cum throbbed in his thick shaft, and his balls crawled up in his sac.
By the time Avery managed to get his mouth all the way down the first two-thirds of Joey’s dick, his tongue slathering spit along the piss-slit, Joey had gripped his head. He sneered at Avery like he was punishing him for the puddle of cum Joey now sat in, and he slammed Avery’s head down on his dick.
“Hurry up and finish, fairy-“
“Be nice, Joey. Let him take his time,” Don Caprinelli snapped at him. “You have forgotten all the manners I have been teaching you.”
Joey threw his head back, but he had to suppress making any sound beyond a vague, quiet grunt. Avery could imagine how girls were scared of him if this was how he made love, Avery thought, but he didn’t say so because his mouth was full.
A hot load of cum sprayed into Avery’s mouth. It was creamy and sweet, thick like yogurt, and it coated Avery’s tongue and throat. It slipped down into his gullet as Joey made harsh, violent love to Avery’s face. Avery gagged involuntarily; as soon as he did, he realized he had attracted Don Caprinelli’s attention.
“Joey!” Don Caprinelli snapped. He had turned around, and he saw what was happening.
Joey winced and pulled away. He hurried to his feet as Don Caprinelli glowered at him. Cum still dripped from his cocktip as he tucked his dick away and blushed.
“Sorry, Don. The fairy seduced me-“
“Do not blame it on the fairy. He did what is only natural to him,” Don Caprinelli gripped Joey by the hair and pulled his head down to the level where they could look each other in the eye. It was arousing to watch for Avery, who cleaned cum off his face as it unfolded — once again, Joey was forced to submit to someone much smaller than him. Don Caprinelli shook his head with disgust. “I do not wish to have such depravity in my organization.”
“I’m sorry, Don.”
“Yes, you are,” Don Caprinelli said. He let go of Joey’s hair. “Now put your clothes on. We will go home now.” He turned to Avery and nodded politely. “Thank you for making loyal payments these last few years. You have been such an aid to my organization.”
“Uh, yeah… Thank you, Don Caprinelli,” Avery said. “For keeping my business safe.”
He nodded again. He pushed Joey towards the bathroom. “Clean yourself off, beast. I think you can please Mister Flowers every month from now on, Joey. Perhaps you will learn your manners that way.”

The Macho

Sasha is refurbishing a house in California, and that means hiring a painter. When he winds up with the burly Perico instead of the young hunk he preferred, he didn’t know he was in for a wild ride of alpha male machismo, activo and pasivo action and dominant masculinity!

Read it now as an ebook!

Or read the whole thing here!

Sasha Lavendeur paid for the painting of the “rec room”, and he went with a low-budget local company, Paint-It Quick, because he was in Santa Monica and California deserved no better than a low-budget company such as that. If Sasha were back in Texas, where he did hail from, he would have chosen a classier outfit.
He needed the guest bedroom painted too, in this hideous home he was renovating in California, but he didn’t want to do that just yet. The house was almost ready to move into. Not that he was going to move in. This home was a flip.
Sasha did not see why anyone would move in, but he was confident the house would sell for a tidy profit.
His knees went weak when he went into the rec room. He had expected Cergio — the eighteen-year old handsome Puerto Rican boy he had hired to do the painting. Instead it was a thirty-something broad-shouldered craggy-faced man with a mustache like a push broom and and an uncomfortably thick ass. He was as handsome as a box of rope and has a similar shape, texture, outlook, attitude and odor.
“Oh. Hi… Where is…?”
“Cergio, he ees gone, señor,” he said with a cluck of the tongue that suggested he was unhappy about that. “I am his father. Perico.” His accent was much thicker than his son’s. He had the broadly lilting accent of a Puerto Rican, which was unusual, even exotic, out here in California.
“Uh… Oh. Okay,” Sasha said, not really listening. He lost himself in Perico’s deep brown eyes and his powerful hands gripping Sasha’s. They shook. Sasha blushed, he couldn’t think about anything but Cergio, who had been positively lovely.
But Perico had a certain brutish charm to him, Sasha thought. Oh, that hair, so wild, untamed, like the mighty mustang of the Texan prairie, and lo, the flecks of paint so tantalizing across his sturdiness… Sasha wanted to run his fingers through that tangled mane. He wanted to wash and comb it then watch Perico get it all greasy and tangled again.
“You want odduh room, señor?” Perico asked. “I will paint, eh?” He counted and put away the money Sasha had done proffer for the rec room. He tucked it into the pocket built into his painter’s overalls.
Sasha blushed and smiled at him, then blushed even more intensely because Perico patted his arm. It was coachly, not at all seductive. It was professional and warm and it made Sasha swoon because he could smell Perico’s clothes and feel his body heat radiating off him.
Perico’s overalls were speckled with multi-colored paint, most freshly the pale seafoam green that he had painted the rec room. “I can paint the other room, señor, two hours. fiddy bucks, señor, I do a good job. Do very good, very quick, more quick than so is my son. He is a lazy and he is gone again and I will hit him in the face for you.” He made a fist to demonstrate.
“That’s not necessary, muh dear Perico-“
But Perico’s face narrowed to slits, and his nostrils flared. “It is needed for yes, I will. He should not have left me, señor, to do this all myself.”
“Hmm… indeed,” Sasha said.
Perico grunted. “So you will hire me for now for the other room, si?”
“Oh, uh, not today, sorry,” Sasha said. “I’m not sure what color we’re going to want that. We might not want the seafoam.”
Perico nodded but didn’t acknowledge it. He led Sasha into the other room, which was currently a dingy, slightly-yellowed white, like the color of an abandoned asylum. The paint was peeling, and Perico pointed it out to Sasha as though he hadn’t noticed it. Sasha always noticed imperfections in decor.
“See? I am to paint, si?” Perico said. “Fiddy dollars for right now, yes?” He paused. “Forty dollars, and I will do it now.” Then, like he had forgotten, he added, “Señor.”
“Yes, it needs to be painted,” Sasha said. “I’m just not sure what color we want it, so I can’t hire you right now.”
Perico shrugged. “I have the paint here, señor. I do it now?”
Sasha shook his head. Perico was big and didn’t seem to want to take no for an answer. He put one of those meaty paws on Sasha’s shoulder and squeezed firmly.
“You want dick? I will ram you and paint the room.” His voice trailed off, and he added another one of those distinctly Puerto Rican tongue-clucks that passed for communication. “Sixty dollars, señor.”
Sasha hesitated, but he already savvied the answer. He batted his eyes as winsome as the most tender of French prostitutes. Sasha pretended to be coy, and Perico roughly grabbed Sasha’s asscheeks like disobedient dough.
He grimaced and grunted into Sasha’s face. Sasha’s heart skipped a beat, he wasn’t expecting this, but he loved it, and his whole body fluttered. “Oh… Ah, Perico-“
“¡Silencio!” Perico said. He waited to make sure Sasha would obey him. Then he very roughly, painfully kneaded the flesh of Sasha’s ass with one hand. He spread his cheeks and ran his fingers through the asscrack. Then he nodded like Sasha had passed his inspection.
Sasha clutched Perico’s chest. “Ooh, papi, can I-“
“No, silencio,” Perico said. He squeezed Sasha’s cheeks, checking his mouth. Sasha couldn’t tell if he was more interested in size, or moistness, or maybe he was looking for sores. But again, he nodded like Sasha was sufficient.
Perico stood there, motionless, muscles rigid. He nodded. “Manos a la obra.”
Sasha smiled. He caressed Perico’s bicep, which Perico flexed for him. He was a hard worker and he was naturally thick, but he was no bodybuilder. Something was alluring about his real, everyday muscles, moreso than any of the bodybuilders Sasha had worshiped.
He reached into Perico’s overalls to test the size of his cock — he wanted to “inspect” Perico since Perico had inspected him. Sasha was glad to feel that it was thick and long and uncut. Sasha nodded.
“Good,” Perico said. He sighed and leaned against the wall. He undid the overalls and let his cock fly — he had obviously done this before, Sasha thought.
That was true. Perico let guys jerk him off all the time. Fellow Puerto Ricans could do it for free, as long as no one saw (or at least no females). But he made gringos pay. He didn’t used to, but after letting this one farmer jerk him off for years, Perico discovered he was paying other hombres for their cocks. He had been insulted that he was never offered money.
This gringo — Sasha — was rich though, Perico was certain of that, and he wasn’t gonna walk away without at least getting some extra work out of it.
Almost as soon as his dick touched Sasha’s tongue, Perico snarled and swiped it away. “You have beer, gringo? I like to drink when I let a male jerk me off.” Perico was scrupulously polite to his clients, but when he let a man jerk him off, he didn’t do it nicely — that was demanded by his machismo.
Sasha nodded. “I’ve got beer, papi, whatever you want.” He got up, the tender taste of the tip of Perico’s dick still dancing on his tongue. He loved its funky, spicy taste, and he adored the unwashed musk of Perico’s crotch that wafted out when he undid his fly.
He had a case of beer in the fridge, bottles of a fine microbrew. He wasn’t sure if Perico would like it, but that was all he had. “I hope you’re okay with an IPA!”
When he went back, Perico still stood there, leaning against the wall, his big brown cock hanging limply out of his overalls. He hadn’t lowered them at all. They were unzipped just enough to let his cock hang free.
Sasha played with his limp dick. Perico swayed back and forth to make it slap between his legs. He always did that when he had his cock out because he liked to remind his friends who had the biggest one around. It was normal for him and his friends to drink beer in the backyard behind his house, and when he had to piss, Perico just stood up and whipped it out. It was macho to be unconcerned with letting males see it, since Perico could hold his own if a male tried anything, and, of course, he wanted them all to see how big it was. His friends’ machismo required them to do the same thing, of course.
“You gonna jerk it, esé?” Perico laughed. He was cocky, moreso than normal — being naked around men always did that to him. He always felt threatened and overcompensated at first, but once he started getting his dick jerked, it was like slipping into an old sock that fit right. Getting jerked off by a man was better than a woman, Perico often thought but never said out loud. He thwacked his cock against his palm, trying to make a loud sound, a meaty thwacking that caused a sly smile to appear on Sasha’s face.
He drank from the beer. It felt good to drink beer while you got a nut off, he thought. He’d been drinking all day, but he didn’t tell this gringo that.
“Don’t tease me, esé, get it wet,” Perico said. Sasha was on his knees now, and Perico felt a surge of victory like he had conquered Sasha — it felt good to have a rich man jerking his dick. Perico hooted and lightly slapped Sasha, first with his palm, then with his dick. He watched Sasha’s eyes light up as he begged for more. Perico slapped him harder. He rubbed his limp, sweaty cock over Sasha’s face. When Sasha tried to chase it, Perico pulled it away, teasing him.
“Please?! Lemme taste it…” Sasha begged as femininely as he could manage. He blushed as Perico hit him in the forehead, eyes, nose, even his ears — Perico’s girlfriends never let him do that.
Finally, Perico leaned against the wall again and closed his eyes. He lifted his sweat-stained tee shirt over his head so it wouldn’t get in the way, but he didn’t take it off, he just put it behind his neck.
“Go on, make it wet,” he said with an annoyed grunt as though he hadn’t been the one teasing Sasha.
His dick twitched even before Sasha slipped lips over it. Then as soon as it popped into his mouth and hit his moist tongue, Perico moaned and grunted. His dick firmed up in Sasha’s mouth in seconds.
Perico would never admit this, but he preferred getting jerked off by males. Females were smaller, so had smaller mouths and throats, which was annoying enough, but even worse, they saw a blowjob as a preamble to real sex. They just wanted to suck long enough that they could say they’d done it and move on to pussy-sex. As far as Perico was concerned, it made more sense to just move right to pussy-sex and skip the blowjob — as a rule, he did not eat pussy himself, so that was not an option, he saw that as a blow to his machismo.
He had only ever licked one girl’s pussy. That memory filled his mind now, with both arousal and shame. She had been a beautiful blonde college girl, slumming it with the painter her father had hired. She pushed his head down to her pussy as though she expected him to lick there, and he was so excited that he had done it. That was his first and only time performing oral sex on a woman. He had enjoyed it but also felt humiliated, because she rode his face and used him like a dildo. Maybe that would have been okay if she would be his girlfriend, but she never talked to him again. She had just spent that day rubbing his face in it like a disobedient dog, humping that mustache until it gleamed with moisture.
“Chúpalo todo el camino,” Perico murmured, drilling his dick into Sasha’s throat.
His dick was rock-hard now. Salty precum flowed down his shaft, and it coated Sasha’s tongue. It tasted spicy and warm and it made Sasha want to guzzle down more. As usually happened in these situations, Sasha was so impassioned in the moment that he wanted to spend his life doing exactly this.
He looked up to make eye contact with Perico as he nuzzled his nose deep in Perico’s pubic hair, but Perico had his arms over his chest and his face aimed away, as though he wasn’t experiencing a mind-numbing wave of pleasure that wracked his work-weary body.
Perico was uncut, so when he was hard, his shaft seemed to have lots of extra skin. Sasha loved that. He played with it, stroking Perico’s shaft with one hand. He kept looking up, trying to make eye contact, no longer deep-throating. He teased Perico by daintily licking the vein that ran all the way up and down his dick, but Perico just grunted and shifted his weight the best he could with those overalls still around his ankles.
“C’mon, esé, swallow it, don’t play wit’chit,” Perico murmured. He repeated that a few times, “don’t play wit’chit, don’t play wit’chit, you just playin’ wit’chit it now, esé.” He kept humping, pumping his hips even when Sasha just had a hand on his shaft, so he was humping Sasha’s hand instead of ramming down his throat.
But Sasha liked teasing, and he loved making machos desperately horny, so turned on they couldn’t even control where their cock went. He slurped Perico’s cock and slathered spit up and down the shaft with his tongue. He let the cocktip leak precum into his mouth as he stroked that meaty shaft.
“Shit, c’mon, señor…” He jabbed his dick into Sasha’s face, but still Perico didn’t look directly at him.
That’s because Perico was an activo, and Sasha was a pasivo, or at least in a pasivo’s role. That meant Perico would be on top. His goal as an activo was to stick his dick in Sasha’s moist mouth or tight asshole, he didn’t care. If he did that — which he often did — then he was more of a man: he was an activo. If Sasha were Latino, he’d be called a pasivo. Perico pounded on his chest. He had been raised to believe in the distinction between activo and pasivo. It was very important to his father, and his uncle, and all the older males back in Puerto Rico.
The first time Perico had done it, he had been barely eighteen. He was skinny then, and he had just gotten his first tattoo. His father and uncle had brought him a puto as a belated birthday present — he was just a man in a dress and a wig that kept falling off.
But Perico’s father referred to the man was her.
“Put your dick in her, it will make you a man,” his father had said. The prostitute waited in an alley on his knees. Perico had gone back there, heart pounding. He thought he might just do it enough to get his dick wet, to say he had done it.
The man started swallowing with such force Perico yelped, like he was about to slurp his cock off. “Oh, papa, he is… Oh… I do not think I can do it-“
“Of course you can, you are a real hombre! I know it” His father yelled out from around the corner. “Just do it, your dick will know what to do.”
By then it was too late anyway. That man had swallowed him down better than any female ever did. Perico stood there like a wuss as the man swallowed his cock and sucked out every drop of his nut, all in a matter of a minute or two.
“You took no time, boy! You must take control of it-“
“Wreck his throat, you should make him gag and sputter-“
“Yes, men should struggle to swallow dick, it should not be easy, you made it too easy on him-“
Perico had not taken the criticism well back then. He got defensive and punched his father, leading to a fight that Perico was sure to lose because he was young, small and still had his pants around his ankles.
But he had taken the lesson well, in the long run. He needed to take control of men when they jerked him off. He needed to ram their throat like a pussy.
“Jerk on my huevos, gringo.” His eyes narrowed to slits. The longer he spent with his dick hard and getting jerked off, the more he imitated his father’s brutally aggressive treatment of his pasivos. Sucking on balls, his father had said, was humiliating, something only a true macho could make anyone do. So Perico had to suppress his grin at the sight of Sasha hurrying to obey and suck the sweat off his balls.
Sasha pulled Perico’s heavy ballsac out of his painter’s overalls, which were around his ankles now. There must have been a few drops of undried paint somewhere on those workpants, because the astringent scent of paint hit Sasha’s nostrils. It didn’t slow him down, he still swallowed both of Perico’s balls.
Perico groaned. He puffed up his chest and held Sasha in place as he lifted his balls up and plopped them in his mouth over and over. “They are sour, si, esé, you are good pasivo, suck on them…” He couldn’t believe Sasha actually got deep under his balls, licking all of the funky sweat off his sac, and he even got between Perico’s legs to the dense and kinky black hairs of his taint.
This was good, Perico thought, he kind of wished his friends were in the other room, because they would have spied and laughed and teased him for it, but that was a teasing Perico could accept. They’d say he had over-full huevos, that his cock was so macho he couldn’t resist getting it wet and it must have tasted so good it made the puto jerk his nasty hairy balls.
“Will you ram me in the ass?” Sasha asked, licking his lips to get all that uncut Puerto Rican cock flavor.
He already knew the answer — it was obvious that Perico was preening his machismo: he flexed his muscles even though his eyes were closed and no one else was around. Perico hesitated and bit his lip. He could do anal with a pasivo, he had done it before.
The first time he had done anal with a male was in prison, back in Puerto Rico. A punk there who begged Perico for it for months. Perico only gave in a few days before his release, when a guard said the man had been tested for disease — that was the thin thread of justification Perico needed.
He had thought he would never do it. His father and uncle had said it was fine — again, as long as he was no pasivo, it was fine — Perico had always been reluctant simply because it wasn’t necessary. He could prove his machismo simply by plowing his cock down a man’s throat. No need to do anal.
But that man in prison had been youthful and female-like, slutty, feminine, flirtatious, coy, always showing his big brown ass and begging Perico to ram him in it. Finally Perico had given in, and he was surprised at how good it felt.
It didn’t just feel good because he was in prison and it had been months since he’d felt a tight hole around his cock; it wasn’t just because it made Perico feel like uno hombre macho. It just plain felt good to ramrod a man who didn’t care how hard you plowed or if you accidentally banged his head into the wall or the side of the prison cell toilet, or if you belched during sex or if your balls were sweaty and smelled bad. He had rammed his bottom every which way, for hours, cumming five or six times before he was spent.
That was the memory that flooded Perico’s mind when Sasha turned around and bared his ass. “Please, papi, I need your cock inside me… Ruin my ass, please?! I want it so bad…”
Perico couldn’t resist that, it was rather like what the man had said in prison in Puerto Rico. He couldn’t stop thinking about that. All of a sudden, all of his reluctance was gone.
He let out a growl. He’d later on brag that he had said no and Sasha wouldn’t stop begging so pitifully that Perico had agreed even though he already had a girl who’d asked him to come fuck her that evening.
“Bend over, puto,” Perico said. He groaned, his dick aching, huevos begging for release. “I will ram your ass hard now. You can beg me to go easy, but… do not beg me to go easy. Spread those cheeks. You will love it, yes? You will say you love it?”
“Yes! Si! Yes! Fuck me!” Sasha cried out. He bent over the stool Perico used to reach the upper part of the walls. It was splattered with paint, some of it still wet, which left a seafoam stain on Sasha’s clothes.
He bared his big white ass and showed off his tight hole. Perico let out another growl of desire, this one less forced. He felt that familiar surge of uncontrollable desire just like when that man had seduced him in prison. Perico slipped his dick in, gasping and biting his lip at how easy it went in, just the tip at first.
“Yes, you will say you love it-?”
“I love it!”
“Say my name.”
“Perico!”
Perico grinned. He loved it when women called out his name. He liked the idea of anyone walking by hearing and knowing what he had done.
Sasha called it out again. “Perico!” Sasha’s voice broke. “¡Amo la polla de Perico!” Every time Sasha called out his name, he felt Perico’s dick twitch again in his ass as they both came closer to orgasm.
He gripped Sasha’s hair and held on tight, drilling his dick all the way in. Part of that machismo Perico felt was that he had to make it good for Sasha — Perico felt obligated to ram him hard but to also bring him to orgasm; making sweet love would not be as manly, nor would rutting in his ass like a dog.
Perico had to really grind his dick in, hitting Sasha’s prostate and making him let out a long, low moan. That was how Perico knew he was doing this right. All he had to do was touch the right spot with his cock and Sasha cried out with an intense prostate orgasm. Girls, on the other hand, required a whole series of action and romance, lots of kissing, so much time-wasting, Perico thought, and if anything went wrong or just unusual at any point, she’d back out. Not Sasha. Sasha would take anything.
So Perico pounded into him, with all his might, with more power with each thrust of his hips as he grew to realize that Sasha wouldn’t make him slow down no matter what. He grunted and moaned as though he didn’t care that Sasha was turned on too. He rammed his dick in and out.
Then he wrapped one muscular, paint-splattered arm around Sasha’s neck. He didn’t actually choke him, he just wanted Sasha to know he could. He wanted to feel a clenching burst of fear in him. His biceps flexed, squeezing Sasha’s neck as Perico slammed his dick in once more.
Perico grunted into Sasha’s ear. He moved his hips in little circles on Sasha’s ass, ramming at every corner of his insides.
Hot breath condensed on Sasha’s cheek. Perico’s breath smelled of the fried chicken he had eaten for lunch (which Sasha had bought him, thinking it was for Cergio), and his hairy chest undulated against Sasha’s smooth back. The chokehold was just tight enough that Sasha needed to concentrate to breath, but he didn’t mind that, both because the tension made his orgasm more intense and because it meant he was ensconced in Perico’s work-toned arms.
“Oh god, yes, fill me, Perico!” Sasha forgot all his Spanish, so he yelled in English. A potent prostate orgasm exploded within him, as Perico’s cock twitched and spasmed in his ass. Pleasure shuddered up his spine.
That sight was enough to take Perico to the next level too — he loved seeing a man cum with his cock in his ass, because to Perico, that seemed magical. His manhood had brought so much pain to this weaker man that he had orgasmed from it — that was how Perico saw his pasivos — and that made Perico roar with pride. Just the sight of Sasha twitching, ass clenching as he sprayed cum onto the floor was enough to send Perico into his climax.
Sasha sprayed his wad all over the floor and that stool he had been bent over, just as Perico let out his own crooning howl. The sound of Perico’s orgasm echoed and resonated in Sasha’s ear, making him squirm and beg incomprehensibly.
I need to go to Puerto Rico for certain, Sasha thought as the most powerful orgasm he’d had in years hit him like the donkey-like cock rampaging through his ass.
Cum filled Sasha’s body, great gobs of it seeping into him, trickling into his flesh. It was warm and creamy and copious, and it dripped through his body, some of it slipping out and coating his ass.
“Shit, esé…” Perico said with a hoarse snicker. He kissed Sasha on the cheek, just once, chastely — he’d never done that, but his orgasm had been so intense he felt he needed to show it. He acted on pure instinct and even very nearly kissed Sasha on the lips.
Then he kissed Sasha on the neck, and his hands roamed over his tiny twink body. Perico had no idea he was doing it or why, he just felt compelled to slather Sasha in kisses. Sasha was just as surprised as Perico, and he didn’t react.
It only lasted a moment. “Esé…” Perico said, moaning into Sasha’s ear, as his hand touched Sasha’s cock.
As if a switch had been flicked, Perico let go. That was turning too romantic. He dropped Sasha, who flopped onto the ground where he had just shot his load. Perico stood up.
He pulled his overalls up and tried to look nonchalant, as though he kissed his bottoms all the time. He blushed, ignoring Sasha’s shocked stare.
“You best pay up, esé, or I’ll kick your ass,” Perico said. He paused. “I will do painting too, as I did promise I say would do.” He shook his limp dick between his fingers and took a deep breath. He closed his eyes, trying to switch back to his polite-worker mode. “Si, señor? I will do a good job.”
“I’ll pay.” Sasha patted him on the belly. “I’ll pay, don’t worry. Thanks, Perico. You’re a great worker.”
Perico paused and bit his lip. He tucked his cock away in his overalls again, and he put that tattered, dingy tee shirt back on. He looked serious. “Señor, maybe you will hire me more again in the future?”
“Si, Perico,” Sasha said with a satisfied smile. “That is very likely.”