Reacharound From a Drill Sergeant

Avery is a cleaner at a military base, so when he decides to tease a cruel drill sergeant, he is able to take it farther than he ever thought possible! Avery is not as obedient as Sergeant Powers expects his cadets to be, which means Avery just might be in for a reacharound he’ll never forget…

Sir, yes, sir!

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Avery stood in the barrack with a mop in hand. He waited. He thought it would be a long wait, but that didn’t end up being the case.
That was because Drill Sergeant Powers went for a run this morning. He didn’t always run in the mornings because there was a good chance he’d run across some cadets doing something against the rules — sneaking back onto base after an illicit night in town, for example — and then he’d need to punish them. He had a reputation for strictness, so he couldn’t look the other way when he saw cadets sneaking in. But he didn’t want to enforce every rule quite that strictly. He thought it was important to let them get away with certain things. It provided a certain sense of camaraderie among soldiers, and it gave them skills in sneaking, spycraft and teamwork. Plus, ignoring certain lesser offenses gave him the time and the latitude to go after major ones.
So he only went for an early-morning jog when he was pretty sure he wouldn’t run across any cadets breaking the rules. Today, he could easily make that assumption because there were no cadets on the base — they had all left yesterday, to be replaced later today by the first of the new batch.
So as far as Sergeant Powers was concerned, the base was empty. It wasn’t literally empty, of course, there were support staff and other drill sergeants, plus the ever-burgeoning ranks of military administration. But compared to the constant thrum of activity from the young men who filled up the barracks, this was a dead land, like the corpse of a military base, like it was some post-apocalyptic wasteland, Powers thought, and nature was about to start reclaiming this area.
When Sergeant Powers saw a flash of movement in one of the barracks, he barged right in. There shouldn’t be anyone in there, he thought, unless one of the cleaners had come in early today.
“Who’s in there?” His booming voice rang out.
Avery started mopping when he heard Sergeant Powers come into the barrack. Powers was burly and middle-aged and a bit jowly but with a body to die for, great strapping muscles and thick thighs. This morning he wore a tight tee shirt, Army-green, soaked with sweat until it was nearly translucent. Avery could see the hair coating his chest through the shirt.
And oh god those shorts made Avery’s dick hard. They were ridiculous — the kind of short-shorts that the Army made soldiers wear back in the 50s, when that was normal. They would have made Daisy Duke blush. They showed off Sergeant Powers’s thick thighs and tightly accentuated the pouch of his jockstrap stretching the fabric of the shorts, which pulled them low enough that one of the straps was visible running above his plump old-man ass.
“Oh, hi,” Avery said. He smiled bashfully as though this was an accident and he hadn’t meant to see Sergeant Powers like this. Hmmm… he’s got on nasty old shoes… Avery wasn’t a foot-fetishist, but he thought it was cute that Sergeant Powers still wore these ancient, dilapidated sneakers — the young men on base always wore fashionable, ultra-clean sneakers when running. Only old guys would wear old-fashioned short-shorts with beaten-down old shoes.
Of course Sergeant Powers wasn’t old, he was maybe forty-five or so, that was why Avery had been lusting for him for so long. He blushed when he made eye contact with Sergeant Powers, who looked at him suspiciously.
“You’re a cleaner. Why are you here so early?”
“I just… I have a doctor’s appointment later today,” Avery said. “I needed to get my work done early. They said there are no cadets today so it didn’t matter-“
“Yes.” Sergeant Powers barked like he was angry. Then he snorted and wiped his lips with one hand. He interacted almost exclusively with cadets he was allowed to order around, so he sometimes had trouble focusing on a more normal interaction with civilians. “Yes,” he said more softly, though his voice was still a guttural growl that bounced around in Avery’s ears.
“Oh,” Avery said, blushing. “Cool.” He resumed mopping, but he jutted his ass out, aiming it at Sergeant Powers.
Avery didn’t need to be facing him to tell that there was a reaction on Sergeant Powers’s face. His eyes opened wide, and he took a deep breath, nostrils flaring. Avery could feel his eyes aimed at Avery’s plump ass.
Avery mopped, but the mop just shifted around uselessly because he focused more on seducing Sergeant Powers, who now had no reason to be in the barrack but still hadn’t left. His eyes were trained on Avery’s ass.
Then he grunted. “Uh, I… I… What is that?!” he bellowed at no one in particular and picked up a pair of scissors somebody had left behind on a counter. “It’s scissors! It’s… Somebody left these. Nothing sharp in the barracks.”
“Uh-huh. You want me to throw them away for you?” Avery said. He took the scissors, ignoring the growing bulge in Sergeant Powers’s shorts — which were too short and tight to leave anything to the imagination.
Sergeant Powers’s whole body bucked. He closed his eyes and didn’t say anything at first. Then at last he gurgled and said, “No… I… I will keep them.” He put them back down.
“Are you okay?” Avery asked, clucking his tongue. “You look weak. Maybe you’ve been jogging too much, you poor baby.” He patted Sergeant Powers on the sweaty side of his body, and his touch made his whole body ripple, and a little baritone grunt was emitted from his mouth. Avery held his hand up. “Ew, you’re all sweaty!” He smiled at Sergeant Powers. “That’s so gross.”
“Sorry.” Sergeant Powers blushed. He was glad no cadets were around. He had blushed talking to a woman once in front of some cadets, and years later whole new groups of cadets had heard about it and laughed.
“Oh, that’s okay, sweetie, you can make it up to me,” Avery said. “My back itches.” He turned around and rubbed his back and ass against Sergeant Powers’s body, his sweaty flesh rubbing against Avery’s clothed ass and back. Avery felt the hardon in Sergeant Powers’s shorts, and he felt all of his muscles ripple again when his hardon pulsated and a grunt fell out of his mouth.
“Shit… I… Ain’t you s’posed to be mopping?” Sergeant Powers said. Goddamn, that ass just doesn’t quit.
“Hmmm… Yes, I’m supposed to,” Avery said. “But I just can’t seem to focus. I don’t have the discipline.”
“Discipline is my specialty,” Sergeant Powers said. His nostrils flared. “Get back to mopping, cadet!”
Avery saluted — though he faced the wrong way, so he merely saluted the bunk in front of him. “Sir, yes, sir!” He took the mop in hand and started running it over the floor in a little circle. “Sir, like this, sir?” He bent over even farther to keep his ass in front of Sergeant Powers’s crotch.
“No, cadet, you little shitheel maggot! Ain’t ya mama evuh teach you to mop, motherfucker!”
“Sir, no, sir, I’m sorry-“
“Well then I reckon your mama must be the dumbest cunt a donkey ever fucked onstage, ain’t that right? Is your daddy a donkey, son?”
“Sir, yes, sir!” Avery said. He held back a series of snickers, but he soon let up and the snickers turned into full-on guffaws. He stopped when Powers aimed a threatening face at him.
“You laughin’ at me, cadet? Am I a clown for ya? Huh? Do I amuse you?”
“Sir, no, sir-“
“Cuz I said to mop, not laugh. I ain’t seein’ a lotta moppin’ goin’ on!” His deep voice echoed in the empty barrack. Avery took a step away then to keep his teasing going. He mopped seriously for just a moment, then looked over his shoulder at Sergeant Powers’s ruddy face. “Did I say to look at me, cadet?! You don’t decide where to look! Your eyes are owned by Uncle Sam now, and Uncle Sam wants ‘em aimed at that floor! You had better mop until I can eat off that floor!”
“Sir, yes, sir!” Avery said, holding back a giggle. “Sir, when you eat off the floor, are you going to do it like this?” Avery lowered his head until his face was on the floor, but he kept his ass high in the air, shaking it back and forth in front of Sergeant Powers’s body. His dick was blatantly hard now, and it must have slipped out of his jockstrap because it jutted forward in his shorts.
“Cadet! You’re playing games, and if it’s not Tiddlywinks, I am not interested in any games! Do you understand me?”
“Sir, yes, sir!”
“Because I’m not so sure you do! Where are you from, cadet?!”
“Canada. Most recently.”
“Canada?! Canada?! The only thing they got in Canada is boars and whores, and I don’t hear you squealing like a piggie! Not yet anyway.”
“Sir, not yet, sir! I can squeal like a piggie on command! Or any other squeal-type animal! Sir!”
“You look like the kinda man who would ram another man in the ass and not have the common courtesy to give that man a reacharound! Is that the kind of man you are?”
“Sir, no, sir! I love reacharounds, sir-” Avery yelped because he felt one of those big sausage-like fingers on his ass. Powers gripped his cheeks roughly, like a hunk of dough he wanted to rip off. A chamberous growl came out of his chest at the same time. Avery moved to stand up, but Sergeant Powers pushed him back to the mop. Avery had to lean on it for support.
“Let’s see if that’s true! If you’re lying to me, boy, I swear, I will have you guarding Bumfuck, Canada from the walrus-men before you can blink! Do you believe me?!”
“Sir, yes, sir! I’m from Bumfuck, Canada, sir, I know the walrus-men. They want only peace and fresh mackerel-“
“You think this is a joke, cadet?!” His hand rammed underneath Avery’s pants, pulling them down roughly and tearing his underwear in his haste to bare his ass. “I didn’t tell you to stop mopping, did I?”
“Sir, no, sir! Uh… I just didn’t want to be distracted — so I can do the best mopping job possible-“
His callused fingers kneaded Avery’s ass with such force it hurt. One of his fingers extended into Avery’s smooth asscrack. He teased the rim of his hole. “You had better do the best job possible! This Army is not in the business of giving a gun and a uniform to any piece of shit capable of doing a couple push-ups, you little pissant! This Army gives guns and uniforms to men, who can do things right the first time, men who can follow orders, cadet!”
“Sir, yes, sir!”
“So you keep mopping and you don’t stop even for one moment!” Sergeant Powers grinned behind Avery, his heart pounding. He hadn’t expected today to go like this. He hadn’t even been horny until he saw the cleaner — who worked for an outside contracting crew and was obviously a limpwristed sissy ogling cadets every chance he got, Powers had been noticing that for weeks. Then as soon as he saw Avery’s ass and felt it rubbing against his cock, Powers had been overwhelmed by an intense and uncontrollable desire to — as the young cadets said — ‘bust a nut’. That was not a vernacular Sergeant Powers could endorse. Literally, the Army had policies on that sort of thing.
Now he desperately wanted to ram someone who could take every inch of his big dick without complaint, allowing him to plow in with all his might. He loved women, of course, but they never really let him go hard, and sometimes, he didn’t want to be nice.
This was one of those times. “Don’t you turn your head and look at me, you little punk! Your ass belongs to the Army now!”
“Sir, yes, sir!”
His ass was bare, jutting upward. Sergeant Powers couldn’t even see his face now, just that ass, so plump and small yet big enough to have a little padding. He spread the cheeks and stroked his dick with one hand. “Do you feel like begging me to lube your ass up, cadet?!”
“Sir, yes, sir! Please, sir, lube me up! I can’t take it if you don’t use lube!”
“I don’t have any lube, so I’ll have to use spit, cadet! That’s all you’re worthy of anyway, I’d never spend money on lube for your dumb ass anyway!”
“Sir, yes, sir!” Avery cried out. He leaned forward on the mop handle, which he still tried to move around like he was cleaning the floor. But it was hard with Sergeant Powers kneading his ass flesh and spreading his cheeks. The mop itself was slippery, so it didn’t support Avery well, and he had to focus on keeping it upright instead of sliding away. That made it hard to arch his back as Sergeant Powers required.
When Powers got Avery’s ass high enough and his own crotch low enough, he lined his dick up with Avery’s hole. “Soldier, you had best get ready, cuz you is in for it now. You in for a world of trouble. You ready for it.”
“Ye — eeeesssss!” Avery yelped because Powers forced his dick in with one powerful thrust before Avery had even finished agreeing. A burst of pain erupted in Avery’s backside, followed by a surge of blood-curdling pleasure. He grunted and mewled, his body twisting back and forth because both his feet and the mop stayed in the same place.
“Does that hurt, cadet?” Sergeant Powers grunted. He spat noisily in his palm and wiped it on his dick, the tip of which sat in Avery’s tight asshole. His whole body undulated as he tried to ram and ram and ram, forcing his dick in despite Avery’s tight hole. He wanted to break that smoothbody open, and he pressed his hairy chest against Avery’s back. His chest hair was already matted to his skin with the sweat from the morning’s run, so it rubbed moist and coarse and salty all at once over Avery’s shoulders and spine. The sensation and the rank and utter manhood smell made Avery’s cock spasm and spew precum even before anybody had touched it.
Avery bit his lip. “Sir, yes, sir! It hurts bad!”
“No it doesn’t, cadet! Your ass is owned by the Army, right? That means you don’t feel pain without my permission!” He pumped his hips, forcing more and more of his dick in. Avery shuddered and moaned into the mop handle.
“Sir, yes, sir! I’m sorry, sir!”
“This feels as good as lemonade in August, you little punk!”
“Sir, yes, sir-“
“Shut up! You’re from Canada, cadet, you wouldn’t know jack-shit about hot summers!” He held back a chuckle as Avery’s back rippled and more of his dick slipped in that tight hole. Soon his balls swayed and slapped against Avery’s backside. That sent further ripples of bliss up Avery’s spine. Powers grunted. “To you, I expect this feels as good as gravy on ya french fries-“
“Sir, yes, sir!”
“Which I had better never see you do, cadet! If I ever see you put gravy on ya french fries in the mess hall, I swear I’ll stick my foot so far up your ass my toes sing ‘O, Canada’ using your goddamn vocal cords!”
“Sir, yes, sir!” Avery let out a loud moan as a wave of pleasure hit him suddenly. He lifted his head up, and the motion made the mop he was leaning on move — it was still wet and on the slick floor, so it was only a matter of time until it slid across the linoleum.
Avery would have toppled to the ground, but Sergeant Powers grabbed him. He was stretched out though, his entire body rigidly diagonal and taut, and he still felt like he would fall flat on his face and belly at any moment. He was supported entirely in Powers’s brick-muscled arms. His powerful chest pressed against Avery’s back, while cock throbbed in Avery’s ass.
“Ah, shit, son…” Sergeant Powers grunted, unable to bring himself to move now, even though it was difficult to keep Avery upright in this position, because it felt too good. But he didn’t want it to feel too much like he was making love so he moved his hips, grinding his dick and making Avery cry out again in both pleasure and pain. “Did I say to stop moppin’, cadet?!”
“Sir, no, sir!” Avery gritted his teeth and lifted his head arduously, ignoring the waves of pleasure making his back undulate and his mouth gasp for air. His responses now were more breathless and less loud, a fact that made Drill Sergeant Powers cluck his tongue.
“You ain’t usin’ ya big boy voice now, is ya! C’mon, lemme hear you say it!” Sergeant Powers said, watching as Avery’s hands trembled moving the mop handle around. He wasn’t really mopping effectively, but he was moving the mop across the floor. “C’mon, son, soldiers gotta have a voice you can hear!”
“Sir… I… Sir… I’m mopping now! Sir!” Avery gasped and squirmed, holding the mop handle against his body with both hands, so he used his entire lithe frame to move it around, like he was hugging and kissing the mop handle instead of Sergeant Powers.
A jolt of pleasure shot up Sergeant Powers’s spine as well, and he took a deep breath. His thick paws moved down Avery’s smooth body, grimacing a little when he felt his cock — Powers had jacked men off before — that kind of thing was not such a big deal when he was in boot camp, and circlejerks were common — yet he still felt a twinge of disgust at it.
Avery’s dick throbbed, rock-hard, in Sergeant Powers’s hand, the skin of which was rough like leather but slick from sweat and spit, which made it soft and intense and provocative of an intense constellation of sensations. Precum flowed down the shaft of Avery’s manhood, further lubing up Sergeant Powers’s grip. It felt angry, insistent, already humping his hand from the moment he touched it, Avery’s sticky precum lubing the shaft up and turned the coarse friction from his rough calluses to silky moisture that sent him into convulsions of pleasure. Avery had been craving a hand on his cock since this began, but he leaned on the mop with both of his own hands, making it impossible to touch himself.
One of the reasons Sergeant Powers gave handjobs was that it distracted his bottom and made his ass loosen up some. That worked on Avery too, who groaned and moaned as Powers’s cock drilled in and out, his ass now slack enough that Sergeant Powers could ram as hard as he wanted. Still Avery had to keep focus on the mop.
“Aaaah… Cadet, are you enjoying yourself?”
“Sir… Not as much as gravy on my french fries, sir!” Avery said through gritted teeth. He stuck his head in the air and howled, trying to muffle the sound at first, then he remembered the base was almost empty right now, so he could be as loud as he wanted.
Powers chuckled, making his dick pulsate in Avery’s sensitive ass. He could watch the pleasure wash over Avery’s body, making it ripple and stretch. Avery even lifted one of his feet off the ground like a dog until Sergeant Powers barked at him. “Why are you lifting your leg, cadet? Keep both feet on the floor!”
“Sir, yes, sir!” Avery said, gasping. His orgasm finally began, but was still inhibited by the tension of him nearly falling, trying to mop even as he got slammed in the ass and jacked off at the same time. “Sir… I’ve finished… mopping-” A moan escaped from his lips. “I’ve finished mopping this area, sir!”
“Well, then let’s mop over there,” Sergeant Powers said. He smirked as he took a step, forcing Avery to lift a foot again and take a single orgasm-inducing step. The motion sent a wave of blissful agony to wrack his body, and his knees buckled. Again, he almost fell to the floor. If Powers’s handjob wasn’t a little disrhythmic, unpracticed and callused, Avery would have already came all over his hand.
It took what felt like forever to move just a few yards, but then Avery began mopping the back area, near the toilets. His red face was tense, tears of sheer pleasure leaking down his cheeks as Sergeant Powers pounded into his prostate. Each thrust of his hips sent explosions of sensation through Avery’s body.
“Oh, god, shit, goddamn-” Avery’s voice broke, and he panted for air. His hands flailed, the mop toppling noisily to the ground.
Powers stopped ramming with his dick all the way in Avery’s ass, throbbing, feeling so thick inside him that Avery wondered if it was a fist. He lifted his head, leaning back until he felt that sweat-soaked tee shirt from Sergeant Powers’s morning run rubbing against Avery’s smooth back. “Cadet! Did you just address me without saying sir?!”
“Sir, yes, sir…” Avery moaned. For the first time since this had begun, he turned his head and looked at him. They both moved at once — so they both thought the other initiated it — and their kips interlocked. With Avery getting it up behind, his head craned to the side, it was a somewhat awkward kiss, but their tongues managed to collide within Avery’s mouth.
A burst of cum hit Avery’s insides, and he let out another moan, this one a blood-curdling, echoic moan that made the hairs on the back of Sergeant Powers’s head stand up. The sound reminded him that he was definitely with a man — as feminine as Avery was, that was a masculine wail — but it didn’t slow him down any, nor did the feel of sticky hot cum spreading over his fingers.
More juices sprayed out and onto the floor, while Powers filled Avery’s ass with a torrent of his white-hot cum. He held Avery tightly in place, letting his delicate lips lick on Powers’s tongue — not even really kissing anymore, just literally licking on it — as Avery writhed in his arms. Gobs of his cream coated Avery’s insides.
“Cadet-!” Powers tried to shout an order when Avery pulled away, but another wave of pleasure hit him, and his throaty voice broke. At the same moment, Powers shot another long flow of jizz, gallons of it, it felt like but probably wasn’t, Avery could feel the roping jets of jizz spurting into and leaking out of his ass. He exulted in the warmth seeping into his flesh, and he turned his head to the side so he could plunge his tongue back into Powers’s mouth.
The last few drops of Sergeant Powers’s cum drained into him, and still Powers didn’t let him go. Avery was still shooting a few last drops of his own climax onto the floor and the filthy water collected in the mop-bucket. Powers waited until he was done, Avery’s dick dangling limply in his grasp.
Then at last he let go and pulled out at the same time.
Avery would have slid to the ground, but Powers held him up, and then let him down gently on a bunk. Avery curled up, cum dripping out of his ass.
“Cadet! I’ll give you two minutes to rest, and then you had better get up and finish mopping!”
“Sir, yes, sir…” Avery said with a yawn. He stretched his legs. “Are you going to be around?”
Powers frowned. “No. I have things to do… Do you want to clean the showerhouse? You can watch me shower.”
“Yes!” Avery got up and giggled as the motion sent a fresh burst of pleasure from his still-sensitive ass. “I’d appreciate that very much,” he said with a salute. “Sir.”

The Basketball Coach: Chapter 1

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CHAPTER ONE
Professor Thickman

Avery walked slowly through the hallways of the Forrester Building. The corridor was choked with young men and women — more women than men, though Avery was only interested in the latter. He felt a little old and out-of-place because… well, because he was old and out-of-place.
He was hardly ancient, but he didn’t quite fit in here. He didn’t mind too much, it was just very apparent at times like these. Everyone here was wrinkle-free and skinny, with fine, mussed-up hair — apparently college males weren’t allowed to style their hair these days — and active, charming grins. Avery didn’t remember being anywhere’s near this active when he was their age. These folks spent all day running around, taking classes, then spent all night partying, with tons of interpersonal drama and even some occasional studying. Whereas if Avery went to the bank and spent ten minutes there, he considered that “enough errands, I’m too tired to do anything else today”. He couldn’t imagine going to class and partying and giving a crap about social issues — all in one day.
He went into his poetry class and sat down. As usual, he sat near — but not next to — the seat near the back where Rayshawn Mitchell would be. Rayshawn was a star basketball player on the college team. He was a bedimpled, well-coiffed young black man with a six-pack that was so perfect it was nearly an eight-pack. He had females literally hanging off him most of the time — last time Avery saw him outside of class there was a girl hanging off his arm by the bicep and giggling like she wanted him to think it was gross, even though she was obviously about to suck Rayshawn’s dick.
Avery had to admit he thought Rayshawn was alluring. He was immaculate, almost too perfect, like what an alien might conclude was a handsome man after spending years studying human attractiveness. His cornrows were tight and more symmetrical than seemed possible; his eyes were living pools of brown that gleamed and flashed in the light.
Avery stared into his dreamy eyes as Rayshawn sat down. Then Avery slipped over a couple pieces of paper onto Rayshawn’s desk.
It had an interpretation of “Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard” by Thomas Gray. Two thousand words, double-spaced, original material not based on or inspired by any of the online essays about this poem.
Avery had written it, and another one besides to turn in for himself. He wrote all of Rayshawn’s papers for him, in exchange for jacking him off. Rayshawn didn’t like to masturbate but he enjoyed spending time away from women sometimes. Avery was ideal from his perspective. Avery licked his dick but didn’t make him watch comediennes or go to political protests.
Rayshawn leaned over to Avery, holding onto the assignment Avery had done for him. “Thanks… Hey, you gotta go see Coach Thickman.”
“What?”
“You gotta go see Coach Thickman. He wanna see you.”
Avery had no idea who that was or why he would want to see Avery, or why Rayshawn would deliver a message about it. Avery furrowed his brow. “Uh… What?”
“Go see Coach Thickman, man. He’s the industrial development teacher,” Rayshawn said, before smiling at a pretty blonde girl who sat down near him. She shivered and giggled at nothing in particular.
Avery sat back and furrowed his brow. He looked it up on his phone. Mr. Thickman was real; he was an assistant basketball coach, and he taught “industrial development”; Avery had no idea what that was.
It turned out to be something like metalshop, possibly. Avery went to see Coach Thickman after Poetry Appreciation. It was in the Forrester Building, but in the basement — which Avery hadn’t even realized featured any classrooms — and it was dark, dim, smelling of steel and oil and mopwater.
Mr. Thickman taught certain blue-collar skills like welding but mainly focused on Foreman Qualifications Engineering — which was apparently a degree program intended for factory foremen. Avery had never heard of it before because it was mainly taken by athletes who needed an easy A and a simple degree.
He was there in a heavy black apron, a helmet, filthy jeans and little else — no shirt beneath the apron. The helmet, with built-in goggles, was to protect himself from the sparks flying from his welding torch. They illuminated the caliginous workshop like a spotlight aimed at his sweat-gleaming cabled shoulders.
Avery yelped and stepped back, surprised both to see him welding and that he did so without a shirt on. The apron protected his chest, but a few bits of spark scorched his bare arms and shoulders.
Oh god those arms… Professor Reginald Thickman — as the sign on the door said, not Coach Thickman — had incredible arms. He was a black man with very dark skin and big fleshy arms. He had a thick barrel chest too. He was entirely unlike the skinny, lanky college boys Avery had been chasing after.
He was exactly what Avery wanted nowadays.
Avery blushed and cleared his throat. Professor Thickman glanced up at him, turned the welding torch off and removed his helmet and goggles. He had a dense mustache that was well-trimmed and a layer of unkempt beard hairs beneath that.
“Yeah?” His voice boomed like fireworks but rasped like sandpaper.
“Uh, hi… I’m… Avery,” Avery said, his voice weak and tinny because he felt small in the cavernous space. He blushed and shrank back from Professor Thickman.
“Sup.” He made a face like he was annoyed Avery hadn’t already finished explaining why he was here.
“I, uh… I heard…”
“You wanna sign up for the Factory Skills Seminar?”
“Umm…. No.”
He grunted, which made his mustache quiver. “Good. Cuz you ain’t…” He looked Avery’s slim body up and down. “I dunno if it’d be a good fit.”
Avery blushed. “I like things that aren’t a good fit.” He came closer to Thickman, who furrowed his big squarish brow.
“What?”
“I’m just sayin’… Sometimes it’s fun to take something big and stick it in something small, even if you have to struggle-“
“Oh.” He rolled his eyes and took off his leather apron, revealing that massive chest with protruding muscles, cradled tightly beneath a sleeveless tee. It had been concealed by the apron until now. It may have been a white shirt at some point, but now it was gray in the areas it wasn’t stained with black grease. “Whatchoo want? I got shit to do, get to the point.”
Avery frowned. He had hit a brick wall — he initially thought Thickman seemed like he might be down to mess around, but he now glared at Avery as though that was not an option. Avery shrugged. “Well, Rayshawn Mitchell said you wanted to talk to me-“
“You? You the guy?”
“Well, I dunno about the guy, but I am a guy-“
“Shut up. You the pervert.” Professor Thickman scowled. He went to the door and slammed it shut. Then he crossed his arms over his chest, which showed off his big beefy pecs, a few hairs poking out from under that rancid wifebeater. He must wear that whenever he welds and never washes it… Avery blushed. Professor Thickman came closer. “I know what you doin’. You ain’t even young, man. You like thirty or somethin’, you got no business goin’ after my boys. They some upstanding men, they gonna marry nice girls and not chase skirt or do the nasty on the DL.”
“What?”
“Don’t play dumb wit’ me, I know about you, man. I know.” He looked like he didn’t want to say anything more specific. But he sighed and added, “you jackin’ off my boys. You goin’ after ’em, chasin’ ’em around like they some goddamn hoes and you the playa callin’ after ’em-“
“I’m sorry, what? I don’t chase them around, first of all — and anyway I don’t mess with your boys — first of all — second of all, I mean — they’re not your boys. They’re adults. They can choose to hang out with me if they choose-“
“They choose no.”
“Have you told them that?” Avery quaked. He was so much smaller than Professor Thickman, but his nostrils flared like he might take him on in a fight.
“Yes, I told them that, you little punk. I told ’em in no uncertain terms, but they say you makin’ pers’stent advances. Rayshawn Mitchell say you always beggin’ him for it, you followin’ him around and givin’ him money and shit-“
“Uh, I don’t think so, you big-ass blockhead! Rayshawn Mitchell calls me! He says he needs to get a nut off every night or his dick’ll fall off. Are you gonna swallow his nut at four in the morning? I gave him twenty dollars to buy some flowers for his mama for her birthday, that’s the only money I ever gave him-“
“You do his homework? His… poetry…homework?” Professor Thickman snickered a little.
“I… I help… and…-“
“No more. I put him in that fuckin’ poetry class cuz it’s easy. You can’t do poetry wrong, man. Make him do it. Nobody has ever failed that class.”
“I…”
“What?”
Avery put his hands on his hips. “No. I don’t want him to do it himself! I like his dick!”
“Man! I said leave my boys alone-“
“Rayshawn is twenty-one! He has a baby of his own! He can ask me to get his nut off if he wants! If you don’t like it, tell him to ask you to jack him off-“
“I oughta smack the pansy outta your garden! You are distractin’ my boys, and I don’t like it one bit!”
“You bullying asshole! First of all, Rayshawn is the only basketball player I mess with — is Jamaal Hartlee telling you shit about me? Cuz I told him no, cuz he is a skinny fuck with a dick that is also a skinny fuck, and he’s a douchebag-“
“You don’t mess wit’ Jamaal Hartlee?”
“The only way I’d touch his dick is if it was full of Rayshawn’s dick.”
“And Tommy Smith?”
“Tommy Smith, didn’t he graduate? I got him off last year.”
“Hmmm… You swear you ain’t messin’ around with them all?”
“Just Rayshawn. And he calls me. He says he’s too busy ‘smashin’ pussy’ to read poems,” Avery said. He crossed his arms over his chest. “You make it sound like I hang out in the locker room trying to cop a feel-“
“Well, I don’t much like you messin’ around. The rumors are a distraction for the team, and they spendin’ all they time arguin’ ’bout who got jacked off by you and who don’t do that. You like black boys?”
“No! I like Rayshawn-“
“Then why don’t you leave my boys alone and fuck wit’ the rugby team or some shit? Or lacrosse?”
“Uh, I do! I’m good at seducing jocks, race irrelevant. It’s kinda my thing. I jack off Greg Lambert every day! He’s on the rugby team.” Avery paused. “I didn’t know this school had a lacrosse team. What do they look like? Where do they practice-?”
“They’s intramural. I dunno where they practice. I dunno what they — I never seen ’em.” Professor Thickman frowned. After a long pause, he said, “Look… Just don’t let yo’ mouth distract him from practice, okay?”
“No.” Avery had his hands on his hips. “Your basketball games are a low priority for me. If they’re high priority for Rayshawn, then tell him to appreciate poetry by himself.”
Thickman took a deep breath and rolled his eyes. He was used to bossing around big tough guys, both his students and his players. When he wore this nasty shirt that showed off his arms and he told his “boys” what to do, they jumped to it. They knew he meant business. Professor Thickman did not play around.
So he was annoyed that this fruitcake was so insolent. Thickman frowned again. He shifted his weight between his leather-booted feet.
“You’re not gonna bully me,” Avery said. “Rayshawn is his own man. If he lets you plant your flag in his dick, that’s fine with me. Until then, it’s his dick, it’s my mouth, and it’s happening. Look away if you don’t like it.”
Thickman growled, making that mustache shake. “I ain’t bullyin’ no one. You a grown man. Kinda.” He throatily chuckled.
“Okay, well, I’ve had enough of that. I am a man, you piece of shit. At least I’m man enough to pursue my own life instead of domineering some fucking college boys. You spend all day telling them how to spend their life just so you can go home to what I’m guessing is a sad little apartment all by yourself, microwave a sad little TV dinner, lift your little weights like a fucking convict. Hey, how much furniture do you have that isn’t a bench press?”
“Hey!” Thickman had to hold himself back. If one of his athletes talked to him like that, he’d grab him by the balls and shout some goddamn respect into his throat. “You ain’t gotta be personal-“
“Oh, I’m personal?! You made accusations at me, Thickman! You called me a pervert first! You virtually accused me of being a gropey stalker! Don’t get all self-righteous now.”
“I ain’t mean it like that, okay? Just…” Thickman growled again. “Just quit fuckin’ bitchin’.”
“No.” Avery crossed his arms over his chest.
“Look… I know you… I ain’t mean for this to get all rude. I wasn’t gonna like… I know I got a rough manner, okay? I ain’t threatenin’ you or nothin’. I ain’t a bully.”
“Well, that’s nice.”
“I was gonna let you swing on my dick if you promised to leave Rayshawn alone, I thought, y’know, I was thinkin’ you love black dick-“
“So you were going to do me a favor? Oh well, the great Professor Thickman sees fit to bestow his dick upon me!” Avery threw his hands up and dropped to his knees like he was going to worship him. “Let this day be forevermore remembered as the day Professor Thickman granted the gift of his magnificent manhood-“
“You are such a bitch, dude. You’re as bad as my sister. If you don’t wanna do it, just say no.”
He sighed again and rolled his eyes as Avery grabbed his cock through his paint-splattered jeans. It throbbed beneath his touch. Thickman looked around and sniffled. He didn’t look down, even as his dick twitched beneath Avery’s grasp.
“I didn’t say no,” Avery said. Thickman’s chest muscles flexed beneath his wifebeater, and he lifted his arms up to avoid touching Avery. The smell of his armpits overcame the sulfurous steel and sparks scent that had lingered in the workshop.
“Man… I ain’t… In case you wonderin’, you racist prick, I ain’t a ex-con.” His dick twitched beneath Avery’s touch. He still hadn’t taken his pants off, so it was under the grimy denim of his workpants.
“But you do live in a small apartment by yourself, and lifting weights is your only hobby, and you don’t get why, when you hit thirty-five, your muscles became a turnoff for girls, and you don’t wear enough deodorant-“
“Shut up.”
“No. Do you want me to get you off or not? I promise I won’t come on to Rayshawn, okay? And I’ll make him write his class poem by himself. No help. But he’s going to call me and say he needs me to suck his nut, and I’m going to go, Professor Thickman. I’m going to open wide and swallow every drop I can find. I like him. If some hot chick wanted to skip her, I dunno, jazz recital or whatever, to fuck you, would you tell her no?”

Professor Thickman grumbled and nodded but didn’t answer. He stood there with his arms folded over his chest. He looked hostile, but Avery thought he had technically just agreed to Avery’s offer.


Avery blushed and continued stroking him through his jeans. “You’re really handsome. Would you ever convince Rayshawn to cornhole me?”
Thickman grunted and held back a laugh. “He don’t do that?”
“He says it’s too dirty,” Avery said, shaking his head. He unzipped Professor Thickman’s jeans and pulled his dick out through the fly. Thickman looked away and chewed on his lip. Avery kissed the tip. He flopped it limply over his face. He kept checking up at Thickman’s face, waiting for him to respond, but he just stared at the thing he had been welding — an unidentifiable hunk of metal — and ignored Avery.
So Avery pulled his balls out too, and gave each of them a quick suck. He kept teasing Thickman with his mouth while his hands roamed up, under that disgusting old wifebeater. He tweaked Thickman’s nipples.
Soon his dick twitched where it rubbed against Avery’s lips. Avery spit right on the shaft and then sucked it off. He repeated that a few times, making it as loud as he could. But he still hadn’t actually put Thickman’s cock in his mouth.
“Alright, boy, you just teasin’ me now, that ain’t fair,” Thickman said, voice like an old gravel road. He grunted. “You teasin’. You playin’ games. I don’t like games. Put it in if you gonna put it in.”
“You don’t like games? Aren’t you a basketball coach?”
“Basketball ain’t a game, it’s a war,” Thickman said with a groan. He glanced down at Avery long enough to slap him over the face with his cock. Then he drilled it into Avery’s mouth. He sighed and looked away, glad to have finally got this twerp to shut up. They had both teased each other — Avery had licked his dick and played with it rather than swallow it, just to annoy Thickman, while Thickman had stood there like he was uninterested just to annoy Avery.
Now Thickman’s dick finally firmed up, and they were both eager to get started for real. Thickman refused to admit that though — he tried to look like he was doing a favor for Avery. Once he got his dick ramming in and out of Avery’s throat, he again looked up as though coming up with a lesson plan for tomorrow, like he didn’t have any interest in why Avery choked and loudly gagged on the cockmeat invading his throat.
Avery didn’t mind the choking. He preferred it. As far as he was concerned, if you didn’t struggle a bit, it wasn’t worth it. He throated Thickman down to the root, until his nose nuzzled his pubic hair and that girthy shaft threatened to split his neck wide open.
“Damn, boy, you eager as shit now, huh? I guess I see what Rayshawn sees in ya,” Thickman said with a guilty leer. He watched Avery slurp on his dick as though it had little to do with him, even as his chest heaved and his heart sped up. He didn’t touch Avery’s head except when his dick accidentally popped out, and Avery took a long hoarse breath. Thickman didn’t wait for even a second, he just forced Avery’s head back into place and relentlessly forced his cock back in.
It was so moist and tight, it was unlike any mouth Thickman had had had in years. He had had no intention of sticking Avery in the ass, right up until he heard Rayshawn refused to do so — Thickman wasn’t going to let some punk like that show him up. He was going to have to cornhole this twerp, and he was going to have to do it better than Rayshawn ever would.
“You ready for me to get up in ya guts?” Thickman asked. His voice was throaty and gurgly.
“Oh. God. Yes.” Avery blushed and spoke through his gasps for air. He let Thickman’s cock throb and leave a layer of precum all over his face. He stuck his tongue out to tease it a little more while he lowered his pants and boxers.
Then he turned around and gripped the metal thing Thickman had been welding — was it a plow? It kind of looked like a plow, but Avery assumed that couldn’t be right. Why would any modern-day American human weld a plow? Weren’t they made in factories? In… presumably like Vietnam or something? Avery didn’t know. But he assumed they weren’t made by one middle-aged American with a welding torch in a college basement.
“What is this?” Avery finally asked as he jutted his ass back. It hit Thickman’s cock, and he rubbed it up and down — teasing him once more by making it difficult to aim for his hole.
“What is what? That’s my dick-“
“No, this… thing I’m leaning on,” Avery said. He rattled the plow-like collection of steel. “What is it?”
“Oh. It’s a sculpture,” he said. “It ain’t done.” He slipped the tip into Avery’s ass, then wrapped one arm around Avery’s neck to keep his head in position. His other hand brusquely spread Avery’s asscheeks.
“You- Shit, goddamn –” Avery took a deep breath, inhaling the sweaty funk of Professor Thickman’s elbow. “Goddamn, man.” He loosened his ass the best he could. “You’re a sculptor?”
“Shut up. It ain’t only white snobs who can be into art,” he said. He used his hips to mercilessly force more dick in. The nice thing about ramrodding men, he thought, was that they liked as much dick as possible, as hard as possible. Women loved gentle fucking, which annoyed Professor Thickman.
He liked to ram.
“I didn’t say that, I just… Ah shit…” Avery couldn’t even remember exactly what he had been trying to say. He didn’t care. He just held onto the sculpture for support as he accepted every inch of Thickman’s incredible cock.
His prostate sang with every thrust of Thickman’s hips. Once he got into it, Thickman thrusted with all his might, making Avery howl and scream. At first Avery tried to be quiet, but then he realized this entire basement was devoid of people, so he could be as loud as he wanted. He moaned out loud, the sound echoing in the industrial arts basement.
Thickman rammed into him hard, like it really took every muscle in his body to do it the way he wanted. He kept his workpants and wifebeater on the whole time. His balls slapped against the back of Avery’s ass, sending wave after wave of pleasure through his body.
But he wouldn’t let Avery know how good this felt. He tried to make it feel like he was doing a favor for Avery, grinding within him, finding his spongy prostate and ramming into it over and over. But Thickman couldn’t help but moan a little himself, his deep voice carrying and echoing through the empty space.
Finally he was done, and he let out a loud grunt as he smacked Avery’s cheeks, making them ripple around his cockshaft. He tightened the chokehold around Avery’s neck, just enough to make him struggle and clench Thickman’s manhood.
“Take it, almost done, don’t worry, I’s almost done, you got it, you got it, baby, you doin’ great,” Thickman said into Avery’s ear as he squirmed beneath his powerful body. The sculpture rattled beneath Avery.
Just as the first wad of cum hit Avery’s insides, Thickman snarled and grabbed his hands. He pulled Avery off the sculpture, and for a moment, Avery was falling — he had nothing to support himself on but Thickman’s arm wrapped around his neck. Avery gripped Thickman’s sweat-soaked bicep and squealed.
Cum sprayed into him. Avery had been jacking himself off until this moment, but now he panicked and let go of himself to claw at Thickman’s arm. Thickman’s dick felt so good inside him that it didn’t even matter, and Avery orgasmed anyway.
“Oh shit-“
“Ssssssshush, shut up, boy, I’m nuttin’ in ya. Don’t move.” Thickman gurgled throatily into Avery’s ear. Avery struggled to breathe and to remain upright, even though he could tell Thickman had a firm grip on him — Avery’s mind kept panicking, sure he would fall flat on his face any moment now.
But instead he just shot his own wad onto the floor, some of it hitting the sculpture, while he took the biggest load of his life in his ass. It was creamy and hot, seeping through his flesh and sinking into him. Thickman moaned right into Avery’s ear, deafeningly loud and raspy, a little moist because Thickman let out a few drops of drool too, wetting Avery’s face.
Finally he was done, and Thickman put Avery down on the floor. His dick popped out. Avery sighed. Thickman grunted and wiped sweat off his forehead. He waddled to his desk with his dick still jutting straight out through the fly of his workjeans. He wordlessly wiped his cock off with a clean rag.
“You good?” Thickman asked. He tucked his cock away in his jeans, then straightened up his wifebeater. It had been sweaty even before he started today, but now it was like a wet rag again. He knew he needed to bring a new one in so he wasn’t wearing this every day. Some of his students were beginning to make fun of him for smelling bad. And Avery’s comment about needing more deodorant had gotten to him.
But Avery never responded. Thickman chuckled. Sometimes, when he cornholed males, they were too overwhelmed by his massive dick to do anything afterwards but experience the majesty of it. Thickman went over to Avery, who was bent over in front of the sculpture.
“You okay, boy?”
Avery nodded. “I was just… I like your sculpture,” he said. “I can’t really think of why. But it’s very… well, not pretty, but it has a certain, I dunno, elegance to it. All of the joints are different.”
“Yeah.”
Now that he wasn’t getting cornholed, Avery could take a closer look at the sculpture. It was intensely complex, with different kinds of welded joints combining each piece of steel. Some of the steel was more polished than other steel. There was a pattern to it, something consistent in the seemingly haphazard collection of steel beams and rods.
It was a chaotic panoply of monochrome — all black — yet it seemed somehow more vibrant than it had any right to be. It was sturdy like a tool, solid like its sculptor, with a bewildering firmness like a mountain. But it had wiggled when Avery leaned on it, and now it gently swayed in the delicate breeze from the far-off industrial fan that kept this basement cool. It was a plow at heart — an old design, an ancient and functional workhorse that looked already as though it had been used in the fields — but it had the looping whorls, looming grandeur and shimmery sheen of modern space-age materials. Its curves echoed of timelessness, the past and the future leading together into a present that made this very moment feel like a lifetime.
Avery couldn’t look away from it, not until he smelled Professor Thickman’s nasty wifebeater coming closer to him. Then Avery looked up and smiled. “I like your sculpture.”
Thickman grunted. He didn’t take compliments well, especially about something like that. “Fine.” After a long pause, he stroked his mustache and said, “Cool. Thanks.” He added, “If Rayshawn calls you again, I will beat his ass.”
“Sounds hot. Can I watch?”
“I ain’t mean it like that,” Thickman said, his dour voice concealing the smile underneath his mustache.
“I know.” Avery stood. He hugged Thickman around the belly and nuzzled his stinky wifebeater. “Thanks for that. How about the next time Rayshawn calls me, I’ll come over to your place? I’ll make your apartment less sad, then you can stick me. I’ll tell Rayshawn to jack off and do his homework. No promises after that, I might hook up with Rayshawn later. But next time, I’ll give you another chance.”
“Okay.” He wiped his cock off with a paper towel.
Avery smiled and walked away. “I’ll see you soon,” he said.

(continue to Chapter Two)

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