MN Manmacker's mansploitation
At the brothel Lipsweet, Vivienne rules as queen, and the many roughnecks who come through are her subjects… But when her position is threatened, Vivienne finds herself on the outs, while the men around her must see to their own needs. Whether at the local jail, in a dusty backroom or in a dirty motel, these macho alphas will have to take matters into their own hands!
Rob goes to a hockey game with some female friends, and he winds up in the locker room with all the players! That’s when he gets the incredible opportunity to experience Seven Minutes in Heaven with the studliest hockey player around, resulting in Rob’s most intense experience in Twink on Top yet!
Read it soon as an ebook!
Read the whole thing here!
Rob Winthrop came to the hockey game with a bunch of his female friends, but he didn’t come because he liked hockey. Hockey was boring, as he saw it. He came because he wanted to see the GHU Titans change out of their hockey gear. The women said they were going into the locker room after the game. One of his friends had an in with the team.
But the whole thing had turned into a boring, time-consuming mess. Rob left last night and spent the night in a hotel room because the traffic promised to be nightmarish both before and after the game. They had to get to the game two hours early to make it through security in time, and then the game started a half-hour late.
It frankly wasn’t worth it. While Rob greatly appreciated the male physique and he had no doubt the Titans comprised some excellent specimens of it, it seemed unlikely he’d get to do much more than catch a few peeks. The girls were already divvying up the hockey players. The players were not gonna give Rob the time of day if they were women to paw over.
He didn’t leave though, because of the aforementioned traffic. It would take him like an hour just to get to the street through the mobbish crowd, and out on the street, hooligans were lighting shit on fire, or so the rumor mill went. It happened that way — Titans fans rioted in celebration if they won and in frustration if they lost, and somehow they were justified either way. If Rob left now, he’d have to venture out mid-riot to get somewhere placid enough he could catch an uber, and then if he did so, he’d be paying surge pricing. Surge pricing. Boo!
So he stuck with it. He hung back nervously as the girls flirted with the men, who stood around in their hockey gear, uncertain whether they should strip while the girls were there. The players had just come in and were excitedly talking to each other and the girls. The topic of conversation was a party back on campus or possibly at a house, nobody was sure where or which one.
“You ladies wanna mess around?” asked a player, Derek. He was the goalie, a broad-shouldered stud with a grizzled chin and a tough look on his face. He had a crooked nose and cauliflower ears, blood trickling down his cheek from a fight that happened near the end of the game.
“Yeah, we do! You got a party to go to?”
“He probably wants a blowjob, Paula, go on and suck him off. We all know you want to!”
“You’re such a slut! “
“I bet Megan wants to lick your asshole, Derek!”
The girls hadn’t been drinking, but they giggled like they had been — they were just covering up their nervousness about being around sweaty men. They squealed and fell over each other, pretending they didn’t like the body odor of the masculine men filling up the locker room with their armpits and feet. Rob smiled and tried to play along, but the smell of these players in their sweat-stained gear got him excited. His dick painfully stiffened in his pants. He laughed with his girlfriends and tried not to look too creepy.
As predicted, the men ignored him. Rob had a feeling that, if you asked, the hockey players would have denied there being a male among the women who came in here after the game. They had situational blindness to him.
“Let’s split up,” Derek said. “There’s one girl for each guy here, right?” He paused to count. “Oh wait, we’re one short…”
Everybody looked at Rob, and all of a sudden, Rob was not invisible anymore. Well, not sudden, as the hockey players had to count, and you know how they are with math. It took a minute or two. Derek even looked around the locker room and peered under the bench most of the players sat on, as though there might be a heretofore undiscovered component of his hockey team.
His face burning, Rob extended one limp wrist for Derek to kiss it. He smirked and said, “Are you proposing something, Derek?”
It was Derek’s turn to cough nervously and turn bright red. The girls screamed peals of laughter. They all spoke at once, but the consensus was that they should totally pair up, even if that meant one of the hockey players had to be with Rob.
“Well, I don’t care, I’ll let anyone jerk me off-“
“I just need to bust a nut, man!”
“Megan wants to lick your asshole!”
“Shit, I don’t care, I just wanna talk to girls,” Derek said like that was a brag. “I’ll get off, yeah, cool, I mean-“
“Ewww, Megan loves to give rimjobs-!” Megan and Paula were falling all over each other laughing over accusations of rimjobs. The reason why is long and complicated and full of girls, so Rob was uninterested, but the gist of it was that Megan would never give anyone a rimjob, much less one of these hairy unwashed hockey players.
Despite his words, Rob got the impression that Derek, and most of the other players remaining — a few had already gone off with women — did care very much about who jerked them off. They didn’t want to be paired up with Rob. But each player had only a one in eight chance of being chosen, so each one was individually confident he wouldn’t get Rob, and no one wanted to be the one who brought the girls’ excitement down. As soon as Derek boasted and made himself look tough and macho, anyone who declined would seem weak and beta in comparison.
When Rob passed Chazz, a defenseman with a stocky body and visible jockstrap above his pants, Rob let his finger curl under that elastic strap. It was sweaty, and he felt kinky hairs there. He giggled as Chazz tensed but grinned.
“Let’s see, who do I want…?” he said, dramatizing his indecision as he walked around the locker room. Of course, he already knew who he wanted — Derek. He was the biggest, toughest and hairiest macho on the team. Luckily for Rob, he was also confident that Derek was the one the girls liked least, he had such alpha machismo that it was a turnoff for most girls, plus he was hairy, dripping with sweat and had a face that hadn’t been classically handsome even before years of fighting had bashed it into a crude, cauliflowery menace.
Then Rob stopped in front of Reybaud, the Quebecois player with broad shoulders and an intense grin. He smiled as Rob slipped his hand into the back of his pants, cradled his bare ass and even ran a finger in his asscrack. The girls all squealed on the conga line extending behind Rob.
“Wait, we should do this fairly! Spin the Bottle! Seven Minutes in Heaven!”
“Ooh, yeah, Seven Minutes in Heaven! Let’s play that!”
The girls didn’t even wait for the guys to agree. They just assumed everyone would be into it. Rob was annoyed he wasn’t going to be able to engineer a situation in which he got Derek. Shoulda chosen him right off the bat. He liked being the center of attention for awhile, that was it, he shoulda realized that wasn’t going to last. Women would never tolerate not being the center of attention.
“The men have gotta do whatever their partner says, no matter what! Even if Megan wants to lick your asshole!”
“Oh my god, you are so gross! I told you I’d never do it!”
“Once you go brown, you’re always down, that’s what they always say!”
“No one ever says that!”
The guys nervously assembled in a circle, while the girls did the same. Someone said they should alternate male and female, but the girls were too excited and the players were too nervous to really do that. In the end, it was a mixed hodgepodge, but they were in a circle. They used an empty water bottle to spin.
Reybaud spun first. He smiled when he came up Megan. Then came Nestor, who got Paula, and Chazz, who was matched up with Rachel.
And then was Derek. As he spun the water bottle, Rob prayed it would point at him.
That was exactly what happened.
Derek groaned and clutched his sides. The girls squealed and cheered. The girls who had already gotten a man — and had gone off to the individual shower stalls to do whatever they were going to do — poked their heads out to see who had been assigned with Rob.
A part of Rob was insulted that this was seen as such a spectacle, but a bigger part of Rob was excited. Despite Derek’s words, he had a feeling Derek wasn’t going to let Rob do anything more than feel up his chest, maybe — maybe — give him a handjob, but it was still exhilarating. Just standing with Derek in the tiny shower stall would be arousing enough.
A lot of college boys these days were all talk, no action. That rapper Commodore had a song about getting dome with a clear implication that he got it from a man, cuz a real tough alpha don’t care whose mouth he nuts in. Every alpha male at GHU was echoing that sentiment, but a much smaller proportion acted on it.
“Carry me, big boy!” Rob called out. That made Derek blush, but he did. He took off his hockey sweater and swooped Rob up in his arms. The other players and the remaining girls whooped, then got involved in spinning the bottle for the last couple of remaining pairs.
He carried Rob to the showers, while Rob squirmed in his arms and nuzzled his thick biceps. He smelled of sweat and a bit of blood, mixed with the clean linoleum scent of the locker room. By the time they reached the shower, Rob’s hands had explored every inch of Derek’s biceps, and Rob’s dick was rapidly firming up in his pants.
Derek was much taller than Rob, and the individual shower stall they were in was so narrow that they had to squeeze into it. Rob felt like a midget in comparison with Derek. He licked his lips, unsure how to proceed, and just stroked his hands up Derek’s chest, beneath his t-shirt. Derek took the t-shirt off and flexed his pecs, whether to make Rob swoon or out of pure anxiety, Rob didn’t know. He kissed each nipple in turn.
“You don’t have to do anything…” Rob whispered as his hands cradled Derek’s ass. He pulled down Derek’s pants and played with both plump cheeks. “I’ll tell them it’s a secret what we do in here. It’s no big deal-“
“Have you put it in his ass yet?”
“Hope you have the common courtesy to give him a reacharound, Derek!”
“Yeah, you don’t look like the kind of man who’d refuse to give a reacharound! He deserves it!”
It sounded like the girls were barely even doing anything to their men (except maybe Megan, who hadn’t spoken since going in her shower stall, and was probably sucking dick — she was just as big of a slut as her friends said). They enjoyed catcalling out to Derek, who blushed but remained quiet.
Derek sighed and shrugged. “I’ll do it… I promised,” he said. He looked hopefully towards the other shower stalls. “Just tell them I’m cool.”
Rob felt a pang of pity for him. It was hard for Rob to understand how girls didn’t eat Derek up with a spoon, but he knew they didn’t. Derek was entirely too buff and big and crude, and not at all suave. He stood there awkwardly fumbling with his own underwear, which he dropped, revealing a thick, hoggish prick.
“You’ll do what…?” Rob asked.
Derek sighed and blushed. “Whatever…”
Rob decided to take this as far as he could. It seemed Derek really wanted to impress the girls. Rob pulled out his dick and stroked it alongside Derek’s. Derek reacted like Rob’s dick was made of poison ivy. He spasmed and looked away, holding his breath and closing his eyes.
“Will you tell Megan I’m hot?”
“She can see you, sweetie. She doesn’t need me to fill her in on that,” Rob said. As Rob listened Derek whisper about how desperate he was for pussy, he snuck his hand past Derek’s jockstrap. A surge of desire ran up Rob’s spine as Derek’s dick spasmed in his hand. Poor boy must be awfully horny, Rob thought, you could feel it in the veiny throbbing of his cock.
“I just… I know she’ll fuck me, I just can’t figure out why she hasn’t done it yet. She likes hockey players, right? Everyone said she’ll fuck any hockey player.”
Rob didn’t know how to tell him that Megan liked handsome, charming dudes. She liked it when guys had smooth lines to give her, she hated chest hair, and she didn’t like guys who were so much taller than her. Derek looked like a bully even if he was nicer than he seemed to be, and his faded acne scars made him look older than he really was. He reminded Megan of her grandfather, who had a craggy face like a windswept sailor, and for Megan, that was not a turnoff.
“Ah, god, yes, f-” That was Megan, Rob guessed from the voice. She cut herself off and giggled nervously as her friends called her a slut all over again. She was probably the only one having actual sex, Rob suspected.
She was like that.
Rob put a hand on Derek’s shoulder, the sweat clinging there melting into his soul and making Rob dizzy with desire. Some of the girls were either showering with their hockey player or making their player shower before getting started. Rob wanted to feel up Derek’s muscles, which quivered nervously at his touch, and when he got to Derek’s shoulders, Derek finally stopped complaining about women.
Derek sighed and rolled his eyes. He sunk to his knees as though Rob was telling him to jerk him off — which Rob would have done if he thought Derek would agree. Rob had to suppress a gasp when he realized Derek was going to do it.
He had a thick shock of black hair that was matted to his head with post-game sweat. Rob gripped that magnificent mane as Derek, stooping to reach Rob’s crotch in the tiny shower, opened his mouth and hesitated.
Then he took Rob’s dick in his mouth, all in one smooth motion, like he’d done it before. Rob was shocked at how forward he was. He had never thought he’d get this hockey player to even touch his dick much less taste it.
In no time, Rob was rock-hard, dick rampaging in Derek’s mouth. Derek gagged when Rob’s cock hit his throat, but he didn’t stop. He didn’t even seem to mind the taste all that much, he was simply unpracticed at deep-throating, so he gagged each time Rob’s dick hit his gullet. Each time it sent a wave of pleasure coursing through Rob’s veins, and Rob held his sweat-soaked head tight;y in place.
“Ram his throat, Derek. He loves that!”
“Throat him down, like a pu-uuuuuusssy!” That was Megan. She was saying pussy as an impression of some stupid movie about how women are right about everything, including how to say ‘pussy’. Or maybe someone she knew, Rob had no idea.
Rob smiled. It seemed the girls assumed that Derek would refuse to bottom. Rob whispered, “Don’t worry, I’ll tell them you just let me give you a handjob, okay?”
Derek nodded, those big dumb player eyes twinkling as he deep-throated Rob. Rob’s dick pulsated in his throat as he forced his dick in as deep as he could. Rob daggered his hips into Derek, moaning as he felt that awkward tongue licking up and down his shaft.
Intense sensations rocked Rob’s spine. He gasped as he gripped Derek’s messy black mane tighter, using the big player’s body for support as his own knees weakened. Rob licked his lips. Derek was wedged against the wall of the shower by Rob’s petite body.
Then Derek stood. He gagged again after removing Rob’s dick from his mouth, and he had a sour look on his face. He frowned and choked before pulling a pubic hair out of his mouth. Rob’s dick pulsated angrily, demanding more attention, Rob wished he would have kept going but he wasn’t too surprised — he certainly couldn’t expect Derek to swallow his nut.
He was about to offer to jerk Derek off next, but much to his surprise, Derek turned around. He was so tall that his ass lined up with Rob’s belly. Rob spread those cheeks, wondering if Derek wanted a rimjob or if he was really asking to be rammed — he had to assume it was the former. Mouthing a man off was one thing, but Derek wouldn’t allow himself to be penetrated, would he?
Either way though, Rob figured he should start with a quick rimjob. He bet Derek had never had one before, and if he did want to get rammed, that would be the only lube they had available. He dived face-first into that funky asscrack.
Judging from the way Derek’s body stiffened and he jumped, startled, Rob realized with a shock that in fact Derek had been expecting to get rammed. Rob’s heart pounded as he realized he was going to get to top this gigantic hockey stud.
But first he needed to open that tight asshole up. Rob lapped at the man’s crack, sucking up all the post-hockey game grime, and he slurped, noisily and moistly, his whole way up and down Derek’s asscrack.. The few pads he had not taken off in the locker room were on the floor now, and Rob had to step on the soaked cotton to get his face into those juicy cheeks.
His tongue pressed into Derek’s ass, which was thick and hairy and choked with clean, fresh sweat. It was so salty and sour it rather tasted like cum already, just without the creamy texture. Derek grunted and shook as though he was shocked that the rimjob felt good, and he let out a pained grunt that turned into a moan of desire. When Rob reached around Derek’s body to handle his cock, it was already rock-hard.
The smell of ice from the rink filled Rob’s senses, and he smelled the coppery blood that stained Derek’s sweater, the funk of his skates, the bitter, salty sweat that splattered on his lips every time he collided with another player on the ice. All of the flavors from the match remained on his skin, dripping into Rob’s waiting mouth.
His hands roamed up Derek’s broad back, caressing his muscles as they rippled. He had even had a few hairs there, which Rob adored — it was just the perfect amount of hair.
Feeling like he had to do something nice for Derek, Rob pulled out of his moist ass. “You know… you need to shave your back.”
“What? My back’s not hairy.”
“No, it’s not hairy, but there’s some hair here. It creeps around from your chest.”
“So? It’s barely noticeable.”
“Girls hate it, trust me. Megan won’t fuck you if you have even the slightest bit of hair on your back,” Rob said. “Get a friend to shave it. Or… I’ll give you my phone number. I’ll jerk you off and shave your back anytime you want.”
“Okay-“
“I mean that, Derek. Any time you want,” Rob said with a giggle. Derek was looking behind his back at Rob, who reached around to casually stroke Derek’s dick. It pulsated like an alien beast in his grasp.
“Okay, thanks,” Derek said. He sighed. “Girls are picky.”
“Uh-huh” Rob said with a sloppy-faced grin. “You have to lower yourself now. Get lower so I can get to your ass.”
Derek crouched on his knees so his ass was low enough for Rob to reach with his dick. He took up almost the entire shower stall, so Rob had to squeeze into position behind him. He got the tip of his dick lined up with Derek’s asshole, and he lightly fingered the rim to make sure it was good and open.
“Two minutes, sluts! Rob, you better finish up!”
Rob had forgotten this game was called “Seven Minutes in Heaven”. He hurried up and rammed the tip of his dick into Derek’s ass as soon as he heard that, and Derek raised his head, his whole body tensing up at the same time.
Derek squealed and moaned, but bit his lip to avoid making too much noise. His entire body quaked as he struggled to accept Rob’s dick. Rob rather suspected that he had assumed Rob’s dick would be small because Rob was not large, but nothing could be further from the truth. Rob was significantly bigger than average, so his dick spent pangs of pain up Derek’s spine. Derek had had a surprised look on his face when he first saw it, but when he felt it inside him, he looked so shocked his face might fall off.
He assumed that Derek wouldn’t be able to get hard with a dick in his ass, but when Rob reached around him, he discovered that wasn’t true. He had to stretch to get there and stroke off Derek’s throbbing dick through the messy tangle of the man’s (curly) pubic hairs. Ecstasy erupted in both men simultaneously, arising first in Rob’s body as he thrust then seemingly transferred to Derek’s by Rob’s cock colliding with his sensitive prostate.
By the time he had just barely begun jacking him off, Rob felt his own orgasm approach. The sensation was so intense he had to bite his lip to avoid crying out loudly. It was like an echo reverberating in his body, beginning in his ass and moving in waves up and down Rob’s tiny frame.
Incredible pleasure shot through his muscles. Rob gripped Derek’s strapping back with his free hand, while his other stroked hard, sending Derek into throes of his own orgasm. They both rocked and shook there, Derek barely fitting into Rob’s thin, weak arms.
Hot cum dripped from Derek’s ass, but he didn’t pull away — or maybe just couldn’t in the tiny shower stall — so Rob stayed there. He enjoyed the feel of Derek’s dick spasming in sync with the clenching of his ass, and Rob’s dick sent a new shockwaves of pleasure running through both his own and Derek’s body with each tiny motion. Every time either one of them moved even a bit, Derek’s body vibrated in agonized bliss all over again.
It wasn’t much later that Derek shot his load into Rob’s hand. He gasped and furtively moaned. He sprayed a big wad, much of which ended up on the floor, but the rest dripped from Rob’s hands. The texture was creamy and vibrant, milky white in color, and the smell of cum filled the air.
Finally, that was it, they were done. Rob pulled out as Derek shot the last of his cumwad onto the shower floor. D erek breathed a deep sigh of relief. The other couples squealed and giggled in the other stalls.
“Why are Rob and Derek so quiet? Think they fell in love?!”
And then Paula, always the organized one, called out that the seven minutes were up. Megan — who had ruffled, just-fucked hair and smeared makeup — hurried to the shower stall that Rob and Derek were in, and she flung open the curtain as though hoping to walk in on something compromising. Her gleeful smile turned to a frown at the sight of both men casually getting dressed.
“What?” Derek asked.
“I just gave him a handie,” Rob said. “Not a big deal. He’s got the perfect-sized dick, by the way. Absolutely perfect.” He smiled and slapped Derek’s rumbling ass. “He’ll make you feel so good your pussy will fall off.”
Tupou is a Tongan exchange student playing football in Dallas, so when he gets an inconvenient stiffy, it’s up to the masseur Avery to help him out. Can Tupou get his needs met?
Read it here!
Tupou Moala had been going along to get along since he arrived in America. He smiled a lot, and he nodded whenever he thought it appropriate. He agreed with whatever anyone suggested.
That’s because he was from Tonga, and while he had grown up speaking English alongside Tongan, he had trouble understanding nearly everything that happened in America. It wasn’t just the language — his English was good — it was everything about the culture. People spoke of television shows he didn’t know, hashtags he had never tweeted about. It might as well have been a completely different world. He felt like an old man angry about technology, even though he was only nineteen.
He had come to GHU to play football. Before he got here, he was only vaguely aware he was supposed to take classes at the same time. They had said that, but they minimized it. They said not to worry about the university part of university football. The only part that mattered was the football.
Now he struggled to get through his coursework, and didn’t even understand how to get tutoring — much less getting nerds to take his tests for him, which he also could have done if he had known that was an option — nobody had told him that because they assumed all jocks knew it. A lot of things in America were not explicit. Churches were racially segregated, for example, which nobody would acknowledge. It was impossible to know which churches were for white people or for black people except by going there and looking at the people going inside. Everybody assumed Tupou knew that nerds would do his homework if he asked them to. No one back in Tonga did homework for the rugby and cricket jocks who dominated the sports scene there. Those were the sports Tupou came up playing, and when he wasn’t busy with practices, he continued playing rugby with a local amateur team. Nobody here played cricket.
A lot of the people here didn’t speak English as he had learned it. There were a group of players from Florida who had spoken what Tupou was certain was a foreign language before finally learning it was, in fact, a peculiar dialect of English. He didn’t understand the black people who talked like rappers. He didn’t understand Coach Marshall at all, and they said he spoke proper American English. He needed to see a doctor every month and the medical system here was incomprehensible to Tupou — every time he went there, they said he was doing it wrong, signing in incorrectly, handing over the wrong cards, sitting in the wrong place. Every time, he did it differently, handed over a different card with his name on it, stood out of the way rather than sit, and still, they always said he was doing it wrong. It was a minefield too, because he’d found that he kept getting surprise bills in the mail, for medical appointments that he’d been told would be free. He assumed it was because he was doing things wrong, yet no one could tell him the correct way to do it.
But despite all that, Tupou really enjoyed America. The people were friendly, and the parties were fun. It was scary: there were so many people here, and none of them knew each other, it was so big, you could get lost in the woods here for years. It was cold most of the time too, which Tupou actually liked — he was big enough that he was normally overheated, so the cold was enjoyable.
Yet it was very very much unlike Tonga. There was not even any ocean for hundreds of miles in any direction. Tupou did not know how to take that. It wasn’t something that occurred to him until he had been in Dallas for some time, and then the thought of it gave him a claustrophobic feeling. Even though he could see for miles in every direction — Texas was very flat — he still felt penned in, cooped up and isolated.
Tupou was more than seven feet tall, and he had a full head of thick, wavy black hair. Men here did not have long hair, and many Americans made a big to-do about his hair. They thought it was either funny or gorgeous or weird or just plain interesting. Many men in Tonga have long hair. Many people in America liked touching Tupou’s hair.
He enjoyed American football. It wasn’t as much fun as rugby, but it was fun enough, even though Americans took it too seriously. He couldn’t believe they paid for him to come here and go to school just so he could play football.
It was because there were so many people. It took Tupou an embarrassingly long time to realize that was why. In Tonga, every single person would have to pay to see many games and buy many jerseys just to produce as much money as the university football league Tupou played in, and that was not even the main league! The National Football League was many times more popular than that, and a dozen or so minor leagues were also scattered around the country. And of course there were unpaid amateur leagues as well.
The city of Dallas had thirteen times the population of the entire country of Tonga. That was why there were many professional athletes in America, and virtually none in Tonga. Even their national rugby team mostly had side careers, and that was the most popular team in the country. In America, even minor sports have semi-professional leagues.
But the university sports team Tupou played for was very professional, and Tupou was expected to attend many practices, strategy sessions, weightlifting and cardio events, as well as massages from Mister Avery. He was an assistant coach who mainly taught gymnastics, not football, but he did provide massages for all of the football players. He was a very smart man indeed. He had an office near the showers in the locker room.
But Tupou had never gotten a “full massage” from Mister Avery. The others on Tupou’s team did speak of a “full massage” from Mister Avery, without specifying what it was.
Again, Americans love to not say things out loud.
Mister Avery had massaged his shoulders a few times and his leg once when he was limping in practice, and he had bandaged Tupou when he sprained a wrist during a match. But Tupou had never spent time alone with Mister Avery before he summoned him to his office one day.
“Am I in trouble?” he asked when his teammates told him he was to go see Mister Avery for a “full massage”.
His teammates had moved on to sharing stories of girls, and they ignored him. Tupou didn’t understand why he was supposed to see Mister Avery, or why his teammates were looking at him like he had done something wrong.
“Nah, you ain’t in trouble,” said George Hill — wide receiver — with a chuckle when he saw that Tupou was confused.
“Oh. What is it? What do I need?” Tupou said, and the others snickered. Tupou smiled as if he was in on the joke, but he did not know why he must now go see Mister Avery.
Perhaps, he thought, it was related to the hardon that struck Tupou the other day in the locker room. He was talking about a woman who he was to see that weekend, and when he told his teammates about her, his dick got hard. He was not the only one to get “boners”, as the Americans did say.
And Tupou had gathered that yet another thing Americans did not say was that those athletes who got an inconvenient boner went to go see Mister Avery. So perhaps that was why he was summoned to Mister Avery’s office.
“He’s prolly gonna jack you off. Do you do that in Tonga?”
“He’s gonna taste ya coconuts, Tupou.” That was Tuck McCarraher, one of those rednecks whose accents Tupou did not understand. He had long hair like Tupou but somehow it was always greasy, even right after he shampooed it. Tupou saw him shampoo it in the shower, and yet he came out greasy and hairy like a tired pig.
Tupou laughed along with the others, though he didn’t quite get it. It sounded like they were saying that Mister Avery would give him a handjob. But that, he assumed, couldn’t be right.
Still, the more he stood there, the more sure he was. That was why they hooted and made masturbation gestures.
The other players all assumed Tupou would freak out. That was why they made a big deal out of it. They more or less assumed that anyone who wasn’t from a Western country was probably from a pretty homophobic place.
But Tonga was one exception. Everyone hooted and laughed and pantomimed ramming Tupou in the ass — since Tupou towered over everyone, they just pretended to hump his thighs.
“He will wank me off?” Tupou asked.
The others laughed and said yes. They all thought it was funny that Tupou didn’t know it already. They had been talking about it all year. Tupou just hadn’t been listening or understanding well enough to pick it up.
But it was true. Mister Avery was known for giving out handjobs to any athlete who wanted it. They all thought it was better to go to him than to try to train with a stiff dick and blue balls. That was an idea Tupou well understood. Tongan men did something similar. Tupou was the son of a chief, and he was given a man to jack him off as soon as he turned eighteen.
Why did Americans not simply say so? They treat their women as fragile wisps, that was why, he decided. They did not want women to find out what men did behind closed doors.
“Will he let me ram him?” Tupou asked, his eyes opened wide. “In the bottom?”
That made the rest of the team fall quiet. Mister Avery handed out handjobs and swallowed their loads if they wanted that, but no one did anal. That, they all thought, was a step too far. No one here wanted to do that, no one on the football team at least.
“Prolly will, you big lug…” someone said, and everyone laughed. “He’ll love you…”
“Tupou’s crazy…”
“Mister Avery is small. Tupou will split him in half!”
They all burst into hysterical laughter over that. They all pretended they were talking about Tupou being tall — which he was, at nearly seven-feet — and heavy — which he was, being so thick and beefy he didn’t even fit in any standard-size jersey — and not his cock size. No one was willing to admit they checked out each other’s cock sizes in the shower.
But that was, in fact, what they were all talking about. Tupou had a gigantic dick, and Mister Avery was not a large man.
Tupou hurried off to Mister Avery’s office. He was ready to do it. That girl he hung out with this weekend had refused to have sex with him. A lot of the girls around here were like that, he had noticed, they talked about how cute he was and they played with his muscles and they rode his back like a horse, but they didn’t like the idea of actually getting fucked by the seven-foot-tall Tongan with a body like a shaved bear and a foot-long cock. They liked flirting with him and that was about it.
“Come in, Tupou,” Mister Avery said when Tupou knocked on his door.
Tupou walked in. He wore nothing but his jockstrap, cradling his sweaty balls and cock that barely fit in the pouch. He smiled at Mister Avery, wondering if those confused glances had been because athletes weren’t supposed to walk around in their jockstraps. No one had told him that either. But he shrugged it off for now. “Yes, Mister Avery. I will-“
“Did you talk to the Student Foreign Aid people? About the State Department?”
“What?” Tupou grunted.
Mister Avery sighed. “Of course you didn’t. You have to do what he says, Tupou, he’s been emailing you. He said the State Department needs an interview with you. It’s for your visa.”
“Oh.” Tupou grunted. He frowned. Were those other players wrong? Maybe Mister Avery was not planning on giving him a handjob after all.
“Is something wrong? He said it’s not a big deal. They just need to talk to you.”
“Oh.” Tupou grabbed his dick through his jockstrap. He wondered if his teammates were playing a prank on him. “Will you… Can I ram you?”
Mister Avery always took everything in stride, but that was sudden enough to shock him. He assumed Tupou was worried he’d be deported.
A long pause came between them, as both men froze like they had done something wrong. Mister Avery cleared his throat. His eyes bugged out. “Uh… Tupou…”
“The other players, they say that you jack them off. They say that you-“
“Tupou, I invited you in here to tell you about your visa, so you wouldn’t get deported. I don’t-“
“You don’t jerk players off? I want that.” Tupou crossed his arms over his chest. “I will do the visa, fine. I want-“
“I don’t just jerk players off.” Mister Avery wrinkled his nose. “That’s inappropriate.” He paused, and a sly smile crept on his face. “Sometimes… Men have urges, Tupou. Sometimes those urges lead to actions. It doesn’t mean anything happened, not really. It just means men are sometimes overcome by urges. They do things by instinct. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” It didn’t look like he understood. In truth, Tupou didn’t really care. He was waiting for Mister Avery to say either yes or no.
Mister Avery stood up and walked behind Tupou. He placed both hands on his broad shoulders. “I’ll just give you a massage. We’ll see what happens from there. If you need a hand at some point… I’d be glad to help out.”
Tupou smiled. He nodded. He could tell what was going to happen, and he enjoyed the massage — Mister Avery was really very good at it. He sighed, the stresses of dealing with a foreign country flowing away from him as he sunk down in the chair at Mister Avery’s desk.
His stiffness diminished slowly at first, then quickly. Tupou sat stiff until he took a big long breath, and he realized for sure that he was not in trouble. He had not done something wrong. Mister Avery was going to jack him off after all, and for now, the massage eased away the aches in his shoulders, then his back and his arms.
Soon enough, his muscles were big and soft now, relaxed, like liquefied meat beneath Mister Avery’s soft fingers. Tupou had to fight off the urge to kiss Mister Avery on the lips.
Somehow, Tupou ended up on the couch on one side of Mister Avery’s office. He just lay there, lounging, while Mister Avery kneaded his thick flesh. His jockstrap was off now, his massive uncut cock dangling over the side. Tupou couldn’t remembered if he had taken it off, or if Mister Avery had.
At last, it was happening. Tupou let out a baritone moan that echoed in the tiny cement-walled office. His cock throbbed, instantly running to full erection in Mister Avery’s hand. Tupou was uncut, well more than a foot long, his dick flopping at first before it was as hard as iron.
Mister Avery stroked it slowly, teasing him, his other hand continuing to caress Tupou’s chest and shoulders. Tupou licked his lips. He wanted to demand that Mister Avery start jerking him off — the other players had implied it was allowed, after all — but he had a feeling it would be better to not say it out loud. It seemed a lot of Americans were more willing to do things like this as long as they never had to admit they had done them.
Indeed, his teammates only communicated about Mister Avery’s “full massages” through sarcasm, jokes, accusations, etc. Nobody admitted clearly that they themselves had done so. Americans never say what they mean.
“Hmmm… You were tense, Tupou. You must have been stressed out about moving to America,” Mister Avery said softly. He leaned over and sucked a few beads of sweat off in the valley between Tupou’s powerful pecs.
“Yes.” Tupou’s voice rumbled and resonated, the sound booming in Mister Avery’s ears because he was still bent over, licking his chest, so the sound was close to his head. He sucked on both nipples.
Avery’s head moved lower, his kisses and his soft lips making a trail down Tupou’s belly to his crotch. Tupou closed his eyes as his dick disappeared down Mister Avery’s throat. A wave of soft, blissful pleasure enveloped him, and Tupou stretched his arms and legs like he was just waking up.
“Eeeeehhhh…” Tupou groaned. His whole muscular body rippled from head to toe.
It had been a long time since Tupou had gotten jerked off by a man, the last time he did it was back in Tonga. He wasn’t even aware how horny he was until he finally felt a warm mouth encircle his dick once more. He moaned, his pitching island accent shining through in the sound as it resonated in the office.
For the first time, Mister Avery felt like he was being seduced by a player instead of the other way around. They often came to him wanting handjobs, but they never outright asked for it, and they certainly never asked for it. Instead, the other players usually just let themselves get hard while he massaged their shoulders or refused to take their jockstraps off because of an erection, and Mister Avery would “convince” them to let him help out. When they wanted to bust a nut, they just stood there hemming and hawing, refusing to either lay down or leave, until Mister Avery took the initiative to get on his knees.
But Tupou was different. He guided Mister Avery’s head in place, and he made sweet love to his throat like no football player ever had. Mister Avery tasted the sweet and fresh flavor of Tupou’s cock, which tasted of sunlight and ocean waves. He moaned and guzzled it down deep.
Salty precum flowed. Tupou was young and virile, already nearing orgasm though Mister Avery suspected he would last longer than most men his age. His dick was slick with fluids, which Mister Avery guzzled down.
The dome didn’t last long. Tupou was too large — both overall and in his cock specifically — and too enthusiastic. He gripped Mister Avery’s head and rolled around with him on the couch, like he might find an alternate throat in there big enough for Tupou’s entire cock. He plowed in and out with all his might, but somehow it didn’t come across like a violent throating. It was more of a plain and pleasant love-making session, and it made Mister Avery swoon with desire, hands roaming all over Tupou’s powerful thighs and thunderous asscheeks.
Eventually Mister Avery pulled off his dick, leaving thin tendrils of saliva collecting his lips to Tupou’s shaft. Tupou gasped with desire and wiped up all that spit and precum on his shaft, wiping it off on Mister Avery’s chin.
He was used to his men laying there, maybe pretending to be asleep or to think that his love-making was a form of massage. But Tupou took charge and made love to Mister Avery’s mouth.
And then, all in one smooth motion, he had Mister Avery bent over the couch. Tupou towered over him, flexing his chest muscles and gently but firmly forcing his cock into Mister Avery’s tight ass.
“Damn.” Mister Avery muttered through gritted teeth. He rarely got it up the ass — he enjoyed it, it was just a step too far for most of his players, so he didn’t do it very often. He grimaced as Tupou’s cock invaded his ass.
It was tight and pinching. Mister Avery sucked in his breath. Tupou wrapped Mister Avery’s tiny body up in his massive arms, plowing in inexorably though not cruelly. Just like when he had lovingly rammed his dick in and out of Mister Avery’s throat, Tupou had a way of plowing that was both aggressive and soft, sensitive yet hard and difficult and strugglesome in all the right ways. Mister Avery cried out for more.
The pain turned very quickly into pleasure, and when Tupou’s uncut dickhead hit his prostate, a jolt of pleasure wracked Mister Avery’s body, and a shiver of mind-numbing sensations ran up his spine. It felt so good he literally drooled and had to wipe the fluids off his lips, which still tasted of Tupou’s precum.
The couch strained to support them both as Tupou rammed his cock in and out. Tupou was gigantic and he plowed in an animated way, rocking the couch to its foundations and even making the floor creak. Somehow the rickety old office couch held despite its creaking and wheezing.
Mister Avery was shocked at how easy it was to take. For him, Tupou’s massive size was a challenge he wanted to rise to meet. Tupou was not used to that because the university girls he had been with since coming to America (and most of the Tongan girls back home) found his size a turn-off. Tupou was well-practiced in using his dick as gently as he could, so he managed to get it all in without too much difficulty, much to his surprise.
So they both moaned as they plowed hard. Mister Avery barely needed to jack himself off, which was good because Tupou plowed so hard he barely could. Mister Avery cried out, grunting and groaning loud enough that he was sure anyone outside the office could hear.
Hopefully, he thought, no one was there.
An orgasm ripped through Mister Avery’s body, and he shot his wad onto the couch. As he experienced the most incredible climax of his life, Tupou reached his own orgasm. He shot a huge load that filled Mister Avery’s tight ass.
It soaked into his flesh. They both sighed, and Tupou grunted something in Tongan. The indecipherable words rang out in Mister Avery’s ears as cum flowed through him, and the creamy, sticky texture of it coated Mister Avery’s body.
They both moaned together. “Oh god, yes, Tupou…” Mister Avery murmured. Every time he thought it was over, more cum filled into him, great gobs of it, more and more with every passing moment. Was that because he was so big? Mister Avery wondered, or maybe it was because he was a young and virile man? Or was it that he was a little — or a lot — socially inept and hadn’t had a girlfriend since coming to America? Maybe a little of all those things, Mister Avery thought, or maybe Tupou simply had overfull balls.
In any case, Mister Avery accepted every drop, letting it flow into him and seep into his flesh. There was so much cum in his body Mister Avery imagined he could taste its salty flavor.
Mister Avery laid limp on the couch, while Tupou groaned and humped his hips a few more times. When he was satisfied that every drop of cum had escaped his dick, he sighed and leaned back. Then he was motionless for a moment. At last he grunted again, and twisted his hips as though his post-orgasmic bliss felt so good it hurt. His cock popped out.
Mister Avery took a deep, relieved breath. He turned his head to smile at Tupou and gently rubbed his shoulders. “Good job, Tupou. I hope you feel better now.”
“I do, Mister Avery.” Tupou’s big goofy grin spread over his face. “If I need another massage, can I come see you again?”
“You can come see me anytime,” Mister Avery said with a smile.
Avery is a masseuer who occasionally lands a taste of a roughneck from an oil rig, but when Dog Barren comes in, he didn’t think Dog was interested. Dog even says he’d never let a man get with him on the downlow…
But then all rules are off when Dog turns out to really need the sweet, sweet release of Avery’s twink body!
Or read the whole thing here!
Avery swept up his massage room — or his “office”, as he and the other masseurs called it — with an old splintery broom. It had been a slow day, a bunch of old men who wanted handjobs, which Avery was not willing to give, and one lady who needed a genuine massage for medical reasons.
That was Avery’s job. As a certified massage therapist, he dealt with both people hoping he was a prostitute as well as people who needed massages to help with muscle soreness, stiffness or joint pain. It wasn’t a great career, but Avery loved it. He enjoyed the people, the independence — he made his own hours — and perhaps most of all, he loved the men. Not the old men who wanted handjobs, the more rare but rewarded stately, elegant and handsome types. They sometimes asked for handjobs and even more, and as a great admirer of the male form, Avery tried to oblige. No oldies, fatties, losers or stinkwads.
“Hey,” came a deep, solid voice like a taut length of sissel rope.
Avery turned around and was flustered to see a white man with dark skin, tattoos creeping up his neck, his weathered face craggy and worn. He had ropy muscles and long limbs. He was alluring, in a dangerous-drifter kind of way. He had the presence of a silent thundercloud, and he smelled like leather oil.
But he didn’t — this man seemed to be a roughneck. He probably worked at one of the oil rigs outside of town. Those men were rough-and-tumble, crude, rude, mean, often violent. They sometimes came in for massages because they were required to try that first before worker’s compensation would pay them anything for pain relief after an on-the-job accident. But they rarely came in for a second massage. Mostly they were just trying to get worker’s comp or were working a pain doctor for opiate prescriptions and needed to prove they gave massage a try.
“Oh hello, my name is Avery, welcome to Thackenswitch Massage Parlor. What kind of services are you looking for today?”
“Uh… What? I ain’t nevuh done this before.” The dowdy roughneck blushed, which was barely visible because he was so tan.
Avery nodded and waited for the roughneck to say something else. When nothing else proved forthcoming, Avery added, “Are you here for a worker’s comp claim?”
“Nah.”
“Okay,” Avery said. This roughneck seemed like the kind who normally brimmed with confidence and bravado but now came across as nervous. He had that walking-callus thickness that roughnecks get — from the vibrations — everything on oil rigs vibrate — like you could just tell his hands were gonna be leathery. Avery could tell without looking he’d have thick sausagey fingers. “What, uh…? Well, do you have pain? Is that why you came here? You want me to help you with some back pain or something like that?”
“No. I just… I been tense, man. That’s all.”
Avery smiled. “I see. Alright.” He sensed there was more to the roughneck’s motivations, but Avery didn’t know what question to ask. “Why don’t you take off your clothes? Just hop up on the table, and we’ll get started.”
He lifted his t-shirt off over his head. His chest was not exactly muscular, it was toned, worked, wiry, plenty of strength but not a lot of bulk, like he would have been a lot bigger and more chiseled, but he didn’t eat enough protein, so the muscles he had strained to fit within his sun-burnished skin. He chewed on his lower lip.
“What’s your name, sir?” Avery asked as the roughneck took off his heavy boots, which were caked with dust and mud.
“Dog.”
“Dog?”
He nodded like that was totally normal. He hesitated before undoing the belt on his jeans, which were filthy and stained. “Dog Barren.” He undid the belt, but he didn’t lower his jeans.
“It’s okay. If you want me to help you, I need to be able to massage your thighs, even your butt,” Avery said. He gulped. This man looked potentially violent. Maybe he should have just started with a backrub.
It looked like Dog didn’t really trust Avery either. He stood there, belt undone so he held his overly baggy jeans up with one mitteny hand.
“Nah. I ain’t worried ‘bout that,” he said. “I work at the oil rig. I shower wit’ men e’ry day. Ain’t concerned ‘bout no man seein’ me in my all-togethuh. Just… I ain’t sure, y’know…” He took a deep breath and dropped his jeans. He pulled down his boxer shorts and hopped up onto the table. His hoggish fat prick swung between his legs.
Avery suspected Dog would relax once the massage began. Men like him weren’t used to being touched in a gentle, non-sexual way. He wasn’t the kind of man you want to hug. So Avery got some oil on his hands and got to work. Dog’s shoulders were meaty and dully tattooed — his tattoos were hard to see because his skin was so tan — his shoulder-meat broad, rippling beneath Avery’s fingertips. He laid on his belly, moving with the grace of an oafier man, like he was not used to being noticed.
“So, Dog, how long have you been working at the oil rig?”
“Thirteen years. Reckon.”
“Wow, you like it?”
“Nah. Just a job, y’know. I ain’t cut out for other kind of jobs.”
Avery’s hands moved down to Dog’s wiry thighs, which had barely any fat on them at all. He could see Dog’s hairy ballsac and his heavy balls between his legs, but Avery’s eyes were drawn to his asscheeks instead. Dog had nice plump cheeks, just a bit hairy and the face of an angry woman tattooed on one side.
“Is this tattoo…?”
“She my ex-wide. She’s a total cunt. I hate that bitch,” Dog said, his voice still flat and flinty, like his throat was made of charcoal.
“I see.”
“She tol’ the police I hit her, but I ain’t hit her ‘cept this one time, that weren’t the time she called the cops. So that was a lie, yeah? Judge say I gotta pay that bitch alley-money, I ain’t pay her nothing, I don’t even care,” he said with a snort that made his asscheeks jiggle..
Avery worked his hands down Dog’s wiry-muscled legs. “Don’t you get in trouble for not paying it?”
Dog shrugged. “Just gotta go to jail for a little bit. Ain’t so bad.”
“Roll over,” Avery said.
Dog hesitated before doing so. He sucked in his breath and rolled over. Avery saw why he was reluctant to do so — Dog had a hard-on. It wasn’t fully erect, but his fat cock was firm and it stuck up. It looked like he had extra dickskin, Avery thought and had to suppress a giggle, like when you rubbed his cock, even fully hard, it would feel like a lot of dickskin under his hand. Avery liked that. He really wanted to touch it.
“Sorry ’bout the stiffy, man, I ain’t no kinda pervert or nothin’, sometimes I don’t got control over it,” Dog said. “I ain’t had no female for a minute. That’s all.”
“No worries,” Avery said. He bit his lip and cleared his throat. “You seem stressed and anxious.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I can help with that,” Avery said. He wrapped one hand around Dog’s dick, which twitched and throbbed its way to full erection in his hand. Avery smiled. Dog gasped. He lifted his head up. but kept the rest of his body laying flat on the massage table.
Dog looked down at his own cock like he didn’t recognize it. His eyes narrowed to slits. He bit his lip. He closed his eyes, then opened them, then covered them with one dusky forearm, which had the word J-E-S-U-S-C-H-R-I-S-T tattooed in Gothic letters down the underside of it.
With just a few seconds of stroking, Dog’s dick was rock-hard. Its veiny shaft pulsated beneath Avery’s grasp. Avery slid his hand up and down it slowly at first as he checked whether Dog was willing to do this.
He did indeed have a lot of dickskin. Avery again had to suppress a giggle at that.
“I ain’t into no kinda pervert or nothin’,” Dog said again. He kept his head up, but as he watched, he also lifted up his shoulders and upper body, which he supported on his elbows. He growled at Avery and ran his fingers through his dense wad of hair.
His face remained stoic, like he was still apologetic about the stiffy but was stonefacing about Avery giving him a handjob. He licked his teeth.
“Okay.” Avery didn’t stop jacking him off, and Dog didn’t complain.
“You look like a girl.” His voice was gravelly and rough, abrasive like sandpaper in Avery’s ear. It was deeper than seemed reasonable too, considering that Dog was not a big person. He snorted and closed his eyes again, but just like before, it lasted only a few seconds, like he was too nervous to be without sight for long.
“That’s, uh… Yeah.”
He still looked down at his cock in Avery’s hand as though he had nothing to do with it and didn’t know what was happening to it. “Gimme ya hand.” He took Avery’s hand off his cock, then hocked up a big mouthful of spit and spat it into the palm of Avery’s hand. Then he brought it back to his dick. The newly moist texture of Avery’s skin was apparently enough for Dog, who groaned and leaned his head back.
“Can I put my mouth on it?” Avery asked, not sure if Dog would tolerate that.
“Nah. That’s that nasty shit. I said I wasn’t into that. I ain’t in prison,” Dog said, his eyes narrowing to slits. His face turned from shock and shame to menace and danger. His dick pulsated in Avery’s grasp. A few drops of precum leaked out the piss-slit, and Avery eyed them hungrily.
Was he really going to stick to just a handjob? Some roughnecks were like that. There was a whole gaggle of Muslims last year who insisted on handjobs and only handjobs. Their imam brought them every week. But Avery had never met a white American like that.
Wonder what happened in prison to make him not want to do it…
“Okay, no problem.” Avery was disappointed. He didn’t love the idea of just giving a handjob, and that precum looked salty and fresh and delicious as his hand stroked it into a creamy smear coating the upper third of his dickshaft.
But it seemed that was all Dog was willing to allow. So he just kept stroking, both hands now. Dog’s warm spit sliding between his fingers and coating his hand. Avery spat on his own hand. Maybe it was coincidence, but the moment after he spat, Dog’s cock throbbed in his hand, and Dog’s pecs rippled. It was the body language of a gasp, but Avery didn’t hear a gasp.
“You can kiss it.” Dog threw his head back and maybe gasped at last, or maybe he just grunted or licked his teeth, Avery couldn’t tell because he threw his head back.
Avery smiled. He thought he knew where this was going. He kissed Dog’s cock on the tip, right on the piss-slit, and he made sure to generate a mouthful of saliva that ran down the shaft. The musk and zest of Dog’s precum and his dickmeat and both his and Avery’s spit flooded Avery’s senses, and he noisily slurped up all the fluids that remained. Then he gently spat them back out to coat his fat cock.
The contact, or maybe the noise, made Dog squirm. The veins in his dick nearly jumped right out of his body and into Avery’s hand, which still moved slowly up and down. Dog began moving his hips, humping Avery’s hand with his cock, though his face remained stony like he was unaware he was doing it.
“Thanks for letting me kiss it,” Avery said. “I’ll just finish the handjob-“
“That weren’t no kiss. A cock-kiss got tongue, man. Use a little tongue. Do not jerk me off wit’cha mouth, I ain’t that kinda ex-con..”
Avery nodded. He lowered his head again, planted his lips right on the tip of Dog’s cock and kissed it. This time he did it loudly, flickering his tongue out and smearing more spit all over it. That taste assaulted his tongue again, and Avery kissed a trail down the shaft to Dog’s cockroot. He hefted Dog’s hairy ballsac in one, looking up at him to see if he’d object. He did not.
Dog shuddered and grunted, the sound turning from aroused to angry as he jabbed his fists into the air. He roared. He nearly hyperventilated, as another burst of precum flowed from his knob. Avery slurped it up — his lips still pursed like a kiss, so he was, as far as Avery was concerned, still abiding by Dog’s limits.
“Dog? I want to swallow your cum,” Avery said. He figured it was time to end the charade and just say what he meant. He smiled sweetly up at Dog, who bristled, his upper lip twitching like Elvis — he liked to be flattered, Avery suspected. “You have a perfect cock. It’s so big, and you’re so strong. I want you so bad. Please let me swallow your cum.”
“Fine, but only cuz you beggin’ so bad, man,” he said. He scoffed. “You pitiful.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “No way I’m puttin’ it in your ass though. Don’t even ask ‘bout that.”
There was something in the way he said that that made Avery think he meant the opposite. He sounded like he could and perhaps wanted to be talked into ramming Avery in the ass, almost as easily as he had been talked into letting Avery swallow his cum.
“Will you ram my face, please? You can pretend my throat is a pussy,” Avery asked. He blushed and deep-throated Dog’s dick without waiting for a response. “I’m good at that.” He smacked his lips. “Real good, I can swallow-“
Dog grunted and wrapped his hands around Avery’s head and started to grind, shoving his cock deep into Avery’s throat. He moved like he didn’t notice he was interrupting Avery. That musty taste, like his cock had been cooped up in those workjeans for weeks, made Avery croon around the meat in his throat. It tasted so good his hands reached all the way up Dog’s body and to tweak the nipples atop his rippling taut pecs. Dog groaned as though this was scratching an itch he had been unable to reach for a long time.
All of his muscles flexed as he throated down Avery, who was indeed an expert at swallowing huge cocks — he was fine with it, loving the struggle as his throat cried out for oxygen. He loved it even more when Dog’s legs rested atop Avery’s shoulders, as though putting him in some kind of cock-handling chokehold. He used those wiry legs to pin Avery’s head in place, while Dog’s hands pushed his head down to the root of his fat cock.
A burst of precum or maybe an initial foray of jizz flowed down Avery’s throat. The taste was salty and creamy, and it tasted so good Avery gurgled even as it made him choke and gag some more. A big ball of spit and fluids slipped out past his lips and soaked Dog’s pubic hair.
“Ah, shit, yeah,” Dog murmured. His hands stroked Avery’s scalp through his hair. His muscles tensed and flexed. Avery’s hands moved up to Dog’s chest, caressing his pectorals and rubbing his shoulders. Dog grumbled. “I ain’t gonna ram you, man.”
Avery just smiled and nodded without taking Dog’s cock out of his throat. He let it squeeze down his neck, and he sputtered as it sprayed its seed down his gullet. Avery still couldn’t decide if it was precum or real jizz. Dog’s moaning voice broke like it was cum, but then he took his dick out and it was still hard. More precum flowed from the piss-slit in pulses though, Dog groaning each time like he was holding back an orgasm.
“Get up,” Dog said, his deep voice echoing in the massage room. “Lay on your back.”
It was clear he was about to ram Avery in the ass, no matter what he said just a few seconds ago. Avery smiled and wiped spit off his face. “Okay. Will you be gentle? You’re such a big man, you could hurt me. Please don’t hurt me too bad?”
Dog glowered. “I ain’t say I was gonna ram you. I don’t do that.” He took a deep breath. “I won’t hurtcha too bad. You ain’t as bad a bitch as my ex-wife and I ain’t nevuh hurt her, so you be okay, man. Just get on yer back.”
Avery loved getting it up the ass as roughly as possible. So he wasn’t worried about that situation. He actually liked the idea of making Dog work for it, especially now with his dick raging, demanding attention.
“Have you ever done a man up the ass?”
“Nah,” Dog said. “I rammed this fellah in the ass in the shower once, but don’t ask me ‘bout that. It was an accident. It don’t proper count. I ain’t never booty bandit no bitch though. Don’t say I did, I ain’t like that. Couple times I did. Only when I had to. It don’t count, you can’t count it.”
“Okay,” Avery said with a grin. He laid on his back on the massage table, lifting his feet in the air. Dog placed Avery’s feet on his shoulder muscles, so Avery could grip his flesh with his toes — and, Avery thought, so he couldn’t run away.
A frown appeared on Dog’s face as he lowered his knees a little to line his cock up with Avery’s ass. He looked away but guided his dick in with one hand.
A burst of intense pressure hit Avery’s senses. He moaned. The pain was overwhelming at first, but it lasted only a moment before he felt a wave of pleasure, dim and dismal at first. It grew, however, with each thrust of Dog’s dick inside him. Dog grunted as though each thrust hurt, but then he grunted again on the outswing of his thrust as though it felt so good he was melting.
Dog kept his head to the side, looking at the wall. He held his breath when he encountered resistance in Avery. Avery’s fingers tightened into claws that dug into the cushion of the massage table, while Dog inexorably pushed his dick in deeper, inch by inch.
“You got nice, pretty toes like a little girl.” Dog said with a long, low groan. Avery’s feet were still propped up on Dog’s shoulders, Avery’s toes curling up and gripping his flesh. Dog picked up one of Avery’s feet and sucked on the big toe, the taste of which made him shudder. His muscles flexed and his dick throbbed within Avery’s ass.
As Avery’s hand finally reached his own cock to start jacking off, he felt a surge of pleasure emanating up his spine from his sensitive prostate. It tingled, growing more alive and awake with every touch from Dog’s dicktip exploring his insides.
Dog moved his hips in a slow circle like he needed to tickle Avery in some hard-to-reach cranny of his body. Dog groaned, licking Avery’s foot and sucking on his toes, which made Avery giggle like a schoolgirl.
Avery’s free hand roamed up to Dog’s chest, where he teased those powerful pecs — they weren’t big, but Avery could tell how strong Dog’s work-toned body really was. Dog reacted like it hurt when Avery touched his nipples, and he howled like his namesake.
Avery’s orgasm came on slowly, bit by bit, but he could feel it growing as Dog continued to hump. He could feel it coming from Dog too, in his breathing speeding up, his face turning slightly reddish and then, at last, his balls crawling up in his sac.
In the end Avery shot his load just a few seconds before Dog, the intense pleasure that rocketed through his body being enough for Avery to clench down on Dog’s dick. That caused Dog to shake and grunt so loud it made the framed pictures on the wall rattle.
“Gonna shoot my babies up in you now, girl… You best not get pregnant…” Dog closed his eyes and wrinkled his nose.
A burst of hot, creamy cum sprayed within Avery, whose entire body tensed around Dog’s dick. The most mind-numbing pleasure of his life assaulted Avery, making him squirm and wiggle on the dick his ass was impaled on. He squealed like a piglet and roared like a jaguar, all while slithering down on Dog’s dick like a snake.
Dog didn’t slow down. He wrapped both of Avery’s legs in his arms, holding them tight so Avery couldn’t do anything more than submit. He kept slamming his dick in slowly but deeply, wiggling it around as he took a deep breath and watched Avery writhe.
He kept on going, moving slower and slower but still jamming his dick in, even as it finally grew limp. Dog rattled and shook. His cock made a big frothy mess of bubbly cum inside Avery, spilling out down his thighs.
“Yer ass is nasty,” Dog said with a leering smile, like he was proud of having made it so “nasty”.
Avery crooned and groaned. He bucked as a wave of sensitive prostate-stimulation hit him. He squirmed, his ass now exquisite and tingling, sensations too potent for him to cope with as Dog moved around inside him.
“I won’t nevuh kiss a man,” Dog said, his entire body suddenly still. “Nuh-uh. No way.”
“Okay…” Avery’s voice was tight and clipped. Dog’s dick was still in his ass, his feet were still bundled up and squeezed between Dog’s arms. He could have squirmed away if he’d really wanted to, but the intensity of Dog’s manhood in his ass made Avery want to stay, and besides that, every movement he took caused uncontrollable waves of painful ecstasy to erupt in his ass.
“You gonna seduce me?” Dog asked.
“Uh…” Avery’s mind was too overwhelmed to think of a real response. All he could do was gasp and croon as though on the edge of tears.
Then without a second though, Dog dived his head down and kissed Avery passionately, sloppily, moistly, right on the lips. Their tongues collided in Avery’s mouth.
With his dick finally flopping out of Avery’s ass, tremendous relief flooded him. It was like a second little post-orgasm orgasm, which a burst of pleasure hitting him all over again. He groaned into Dog’s mouth. He flopped limply, submitting to Dog’s kiss and his rough, callused fingers caressing Avery’s body.
Then at last, and all at once, Dog backed off. He frowned at Avery. He flopped his dick between his fingers and wiped it off with a tissue.
“You seduced me,” he said, his eyes narrowing to slits.
“Uh… Not really. I-“
“Shush,” Dog said. “I don’t nevuh ram men, you best believe that. You believe that?!” He paused. “Huh?!”
“Well… Yeah. I believe it,” Avery said.
Avery sat up, dizzy now that that was over. He hadn’t been rammed that good in a long time. He was still scared, not sure where Dog was taking this.
Dog paused. He bristled and slowly put his clothes on. He ignored Avery the entire time. Only after he had put his shirt back on and tied his heavy boots did he glance in Avery’s direction. “You gonna be around in a couple days?”
“Uh… Well, I work here most days-“
“No. I mean, like, midnight or so. Well, two in the morning, more like, after the bars close.”
“We’re closed then.”
“What’s your address?”
Avery’s rational mind said not to tell him, but Avery’s body and his cock and his prostate all demanded he do it. So even as he told himself not to, he gave Dog his address and phone number.
“If I come by to see you at night when I’m drunk,” Dog said as he headed towards the door. “You best let me in and lemme sleep on yer couch, boy. I won’t steal nothin’, I’s a God-fearin’ man. You better not molest me neither. I ain’t gonna let you jerk me off, and I definitely won’t be sticking you up the ass neither.” He paused in the doorway and took a deep breath. “I ain’t mean to act unchristian towards ya. I’ll come pass out on yer couch, just don’t you dare take advantage of me.”
“Okay, I won’t,” Avery said with a deep sigh. He was glad to see Dog walk away, but Avery already looked forward to seeing him again.
Avery is hoping to see some admirable male physiques at a notorious campground, so he hangs out cruising the scene. When one alpha male Army vet catches his eye, Avery is off to the races in hopes of landing the outrageous manhood of this military stud.
Can Avery land the man of his dreams?
Or read the whole thing here!
Avery leaned back in his camp chair and sipped at his nalgene bottle full of ice-cold water. He had a cooler in the tent. It tasted good. It had taken him hours to get all set up. Putting a tent up seemed to get more arduous every time he did it, he thought, as his joints got older.
Campgrounds always made him feel old these days anyway. It seemed like everyone he saw was younger than him. Public campgrounds like this used to be full of older people. That was what Avery thought about them when he was growing up. It was a place full of old people. Now, he was the old people.
He was in rural Wyoming. He didn’t know any of the people, but he knew that, sooner or later, he’d make a friend. The people in this kind of place were always nice. That was why Avery liked to hang out in campgrounds.
That and the fact that men with excellent physiques were usually there too. Fat and skinny men as well, but not as many. Maybe, Avery thought, the out-of-shape ones were at home eating potato chips and commenting on the internet, leaving the more well-formed men to throng in place like this, the Crambighter Woods campground.
“Anybody wanna drum fo’ us? We need some rhythm, boy howdy!”
“Who got a percussion?”
A band was starting up, an impromptu group around the campfire near Avery’s tent. They had been talking about music and discovered several of them had brought guitars, so they started tuning up.
“I can drum,” Avery said when he casually milled in that direction. He was self-conscious because it seemed a lot of these guys knew each other. But he wanted to fit in, and he was a drummer — he had even been in a band as a teenager.
Someone produced a bongo drum. Avery had never actually used one, but once he got started, he got the hang of it. It wasn’t any different than the drumsticks he was used to.
It was just a jam session — not even any singing. They played popular songs by the Rolling Stones, Beatles, Hank Williams Jr, Dwight Yoakam. Avery just played the rhythm, but he didn’t mind. He liked being part of the group.
There were quite a few women at the Crambighter this weekend. That was a well-known campground with lots of ladies, giving the men plenty of opportunities for sex. That was a big part of why so many men came here. Avery was only interested in the men — women bored him — but he appreciated the women because they attracted the men. A lot of the ladies were’t that ladylike anyway — some were outright prostitutes. That would make it difficult for Avery to find a man willing to swing downlow. The handsomest ones had women hanging off them.
As Avery started banging out a Funkadelic song — a man with a bass had shown up and requested it — he took stock of his options. There was a blond long-haired stud who looked Nordic, but he had a woman with him and Avery gathered from her body language that they were going to go off and fuck soon. There was a scruffy young biker-type (impossible to tell if he was really a biker or not, but his beard and tattoos made him look bikerish, or at least he was attempting to come across that way) who looked promising but had gotten drunk. He would be too drunk by the time Avery managed to get him alone.
All that guy-watch made Avery lose the rhythm for a moment. Luckily no one noticed in the cacophony of guitars. It was hard to stay in sync, because Avery was pretty sure some of the guys were playing “Up for the Downstroke” — technically a Parliament song — instead of “Hit It & Quit It” as they had agreed.
A man caught Avery’s eye, and that made him stop drumming for a moment.
He looked military. He definitely wasn’t, judging from the mustache which was surely not regulation, but he had a crew-cut and he was slightly balding, and he wore a green tee shirt like a soldier over workpants splattered with white paint. He was in his mid-forties, older than most of the men here, and he slightly balding, but his tight tee shirt showed off a potent body. He wore his pants high — very unfashionable — and heavy boots on his broad feet.
Maybe a cop? He looked like maybe a cop. But there were people smoking weed not far away — Avery had smelled it earlier — so he thought a cop, even an off-duty one, would have either intervened or left. Maybe a former cop.
He certainly carried himself like an authority figure, that was for sure. He glowered at the carousing, drunk bikers and rednecks who fell over each other around the campfire. He didn’t say anything. Was he here with someone? Avery didn’t think so.
As Avery banged on his bongo, he saw the man talk to a woman finally. He looked stiff, nervous like a man half his age, and Avery could tell instantly that she was turned off. She was blatantly the fun-loving youngster-type, Avery thought, she was never going to go for a dowdy daddy like him.
But Avery did overhear — in a brief break in the song — that the man’s name was Bernard. That was a great name for a sturdy man, Avery thought, it made him think of big dogs and mountain passes.
“Play ‘Free Bird’!”
“Who wants to blow this joint?”
“Yeah!” A chorus of agreement rang out. It seemed nobody wanted to play “Free Bird”. Avery certainly didn’t. He had his limits.
The band disbanded to go smoke weed. Avery wasn’t interested in that either. He milled about and saw Bernard talk to another woman, this one a bit older, plumper, precisely the type who might like Bernard’s thick body and burly middle-aged look.
But in the hustle of everyone switching places, Avery was jostled about and he lost track of Bernard. He was pretty sure Bernard had gone into a tent with the thick girl.
Oh well… Avery sighed. That little opportunity was busted. He ought to have gone smoking weed with the other guys. Now he both didn’t have Bernard and wasn’t stoned.
He was alone again. Hot chicks had hooked up with handsome guys with nice cars; fat chicks had hooked up with handsome guys without cars; couples had retired to their tents, and the night was drawing to a close.
It was funny how that happened so fast at campground events like this. Once a few charismatic people realized they were tired — or found someone and somewhere to fuck — the remainder were all introverted weirdos like Avery. The party dwindled.
That wasn’t a problem for Avery’s plans. In an hour or two, any man who had failed to land a woman would be ripe for the plucking. Anyone drunk would be passed out cold. Avery could take his pick from the remainder, most of whom would be horny enough and desperate enough to at least let Avery give them a handjob.
But he had to wait a bit for that. He decided to go take a shower. Not only were there probably lots of men there, he just plain needed to bathe.
The showerhouse was near the entrance to the Crambighter Campground. Avery flopped there in his sandals, carrying a towel and his shower gear. He went to the adult men’s side — it was divided into quarters, for adults and juveniles, both male and female (though this weekend was an adults-only event, which was why drinking was allowed).
No one was in there. Avery was disappointed. Maybe he was going to strike out tonight after all. It seemed the women this weekend were determined to use up all the men. The showerhouse was big and empty, cold until he turned the hot water on. At least the lack of people meant there was plenty of hot water.
Avery started showering by himself. It felt lonely in that big cavernous space all alone. He wished someone else would be here, even some old loser.
The door swung open, and Avery held his breath — it took a few moments for whoever it was to come around the corner.
It was him!
It was Bernard. Avery was giddy, and his heart skipped a beat. Bernard hadn’t hooked up with that plump girl after all. Her loss.
He glanced at Avery and nodded a polite hello, then went to the changing area. Bernard had a furrowed brow, and his muscles were tense from the moment he walked in. Was that a bulge in his workpants? Did he have a hardon?
That was when Avery noticed the little cut on his cheek, which was red. He had been slapped.
That explained it! He had hooked up with the heavy girl, but he must have come on too strong or something. She slapped him, and judging from the bruising Avery saw, she either did it a couple times or she really packed a wallop. Either option seemed possible.
Bernard hesitated. He eyed the slim white man — Avery — with a dim eye. He rather wished he was showering alone, as then he could jack himself off. He needed that. That plump woman had blueballed him. When he dropped his pants — standing behind the barrier that protected the changing area from the showers — he saw that his dick was still hard.
Instead he just stood there and sighed. When he realized that made him seem weirder than having a hardon would be, he just shrugged and went into the showering area. Avery stared at his erect cock when it became visible.
“Don’t make fun, man,” Bernard said, his voice a low throaty growl, like he didn’t speak often and his vocal cords were unpracticed. He looked at his massive dick, still mostly hard and throbbing, begging for action. “I got hard earlier and couldn’t get it down, I was wit’ this female, man, and she slapped the shit outta me. Got me all worked up and then ain’t wanna put out.”
“Oh yeah? That sucks…” Avery clucked his tongue. “You poor baby.”
Bernard nodded and stepped under the showerhead furthest from Avery. “Wish I was drunk,” Bernard said. The water sprayed over his broad chest. His body hair was already matted to his skin with sweat — he was palpably hot, Avery could feel his body heat when he walked by, his plump but chunky thick-body ass jiggling as he did. Avery saw that erect cock and had to stop himself from drooling.
Avery’s mind raced as he considered what it might take to land a taste of Bernard’s excellent meat.
“Man, she invited me into her tent, ‘nd shit, man, swear to god, she was beggin’ for it. Then all of a sudden she say she only doin’ handstuff.” He threw his hands in the air — revealing big bushy armpits — and scowled. “What the fuck? Is we in middle school again? She was like nearly thirty…” He rolled his eyes. “Doin’ handstuff…”
Avery chuckled. “Yeah… girls can be teases.”
“Yeah.” Bernard grunted. “I can do handstuff mah own goddamn self!” He poured shampoo into his hand and washed his scalp — his hair was so short Avery didn’t see the point, but he didn’t say that out loud. Maybe it was dandruff shampoo.
“You still have a hardon.”
As he rinsed the shampoo off his scalp, Bernard opened his eyes and glowered darkly at Avery. Obviously Avery wasn’t supposed to mention it after Bernard already apologized for it. Avery smiled at him, and he turned his hips so Bernard could see his pale, smooth ass.
Bernard groaned.
Avery saw the thoughts flicker over Bernard’s face. Avery didn’t make any offer yet, wanting to give Bernard a chance to ruminate on his options. Avery continued washing his body with a washcloth, making sure his smoothness and petite frame were visible in the dim light of the showerhouse. He turned around to dance his ass towards Bernard.
Bernard narrowed his eyes to slits at the sight of Avery’s plump bubble-butt. Avery was slim, but his ass was thick, plump, smooth. It looked tight too. Bernard could just plow into that. It would feel so good, he thought.
But he wasn’t going to do that.
He had done it, once, back in boot camp. He and a buddy had had leave together, and when Bernard was unable to find a prostitute — this was back in the 1970s in a remote part of Alaska — he had traded mouth with his buddy. They just jacked each other off first, but when that proved difficult to cum to, they had sixty-nined. Later, Bernard woke up to find himself grinding his cock into his buddy’s asshole and giving a reacharound as he did it.
That had been one crazy weekend that he had blocked out of his mind. Bernard didn’t think about that, and when he did think about it, he tried to convince himself it hadn’t happened.
But his cock, he soon realized, had gotten harder since he walked in here. It wasn’t going to go down. It throbbed and pulsated like it had a mind of its own, a mind that was demanding a warm, tight place to ram itself into. The more he looked at Avery’s taut ass and his creamy smooth skin like a woman’s, the more Bernard wanted him.
He has such soft lips too, Bernard though, be he could do amazing things with those lips.
“So do you have a wife?” Avery asked. He already guessed the answer, but he wanted to keep Bernard thinking about women and sex.
“No.” Bernard grunted. His mind raced too fast to think of anything to say except touch my dick, which he couldn’t bring himself to say no matter how much he wanted it to happen.
“Are you okay? You looked upset,” Avery said. “Or maybe it’s just that hardon that won’t go away. You want me to help?”
“Uh…” Bernard closed his eyes. He spread his legs and put his hands behind his back as though he was at parade rest. He jutted his hips forward enough to make his foot-long dick stick out, making it look even bigger. His chest muscles rippled.
That was a pretty clear signal, Avery thought. He came closer.
Bernard looked so handsome, like an AWOL soldier about to be scolded by his commanding officer. He winced even before Avery got on his knees in front of him. Avery waited a good long time to give him a chance to change his mind — he knew Bernard was ready when he peeked his eyes open to see why Avery hadn’t started yet.
Avery plunged deep on his dick then, all in one smooth motion, slamming his head all the way down. He wanted to interrupt that parade-rest position, but Bernard forced himself to stay put. He swayed back and forth but didn’t move his feet or his hands. His chest muscles all flexed like it took all of his effort to avoid moving his hands — he no doubt wanted to hold Avery’s head and ram his throat — alphas always wanted that — but thought that would feel too weird.
It was cute to watch. Bernard furiously squeezed his eyes shut and refused to move either his feet or his arms. He was so focused on keeping his limbs still that he made lots of horse-like snorting and whinnying sounds as his hips tossed his upper body around like a bobblehead.
His dick tasted like the paint-stained workpants he had been wearing. That was because he had gotten hard wearing them, Avery thought — he’d long noticed that men who concealed hardons in their pants ended up smelling like their pants when they finally got their dick out, like the scent of his fabric had seeped into his dickshaft. He must have been horny enough with that woman to leak some precum from his dick, because Avery could taste the salt of recently dried funk on his shaft as well. Avery’s tongue slathered spit up and down, gathering up all that stale flavor and the desperate sexual frustration in Bernard’s manhood.
“Ah, goddamn, man… Shit, I needed that…” Bernard’s tension slowly melted away. His muscles gradually relaxed. He remained at parade-rest, hands firmly locked on his own wrists behind his ass. His whole body tensed and flexed and buckled, as he let out petite groans and grunts.
“Can I slurp on your balls, sir?” Avery asked, letting his voice gurgle moistly with the salty precum that coated his lips.
“Hmmm… Oh god, yeah… lick my balls, man, c’mon…” Bernard’s deep voice echoed. “I love that…” He was one of those people who didn’t really have the ability to whisper, Avery thought. He was so big that he had a deep, rumbling voice, which melded in with the hum of the fluorescent lights and the excited shouts outside by the campfire, so his voice wasn’t very disruptive even if it was quiet. It sort of melded in with the atmosphere of the campground.
Avery produced copious spit that flowed down Bernard’s shaft all the way to his heavy balls, which Avery slurped and licked loudly, his tongue working all over the hairy sac. He made his own saliva drip into puddles on the linoleum floor before running to the drain. Two showers still sprayed warm water, but Bernard had backed up to the wall, so he was out of the spray of both showers.
“Hmmm, ah yeah, man… it’s been a long time since, uh… someone licked my balls,” Bernard said. He very nearly said ‘a dude’ but stopped himself because he wasn’t ready to admit he’d messed with a man back in boot camp. But it was true, no girl had ever licked his balls for more than a few seconds because they were too big, too heavy, too low-hanging, and too hairy.
They were just plain too much.
Those traits were exactly why Avery loved them. Women don’t know how to value a hairy, sweaty ballsac. He slurped down every drop of shower-water that still clung to Bernard’s sac, and he slipped his head between those powerful legs too.
Soon, Avery was on the other side, kissing each of his work-weary asscheeks below which his hands had a death-grip on each other. “You ready to ram me?” Avery asked, as he licked the mighty meat of Bernard’s ass.
“Hell yeah…” Bernard murmured.
Avery slid back in front of Bernard on the smooth linoleum floor, arranging himself on all fours, with his ass high in the air. Bernard’s eyes opened wide.
There’s that ass again. It’s so tight. Tell him no. Tell him you only want to do mouth-stuff.
But his asshole beckoned, and Bernard didn’t want to back out. It was so warm and smooth, better than that girl’s chunky ass would have been, Bernard thought but would never say out loud. He blushed as though someone might have heard his thought. He was already kneeling behind Avery before he even decided to do it.
It was like his body was on autopilot. Even with his buddy in boot camp, Bernard had never done it like this. That had been fumbling in the dark, not an actual hardcore cock-in-ass ramrodding, like they were prisoners on lockdown.
“Aaaah…” He finally used his hands on Avery’s body. He gripped each of this thick bubble-butt cheeks and held on tight as he plowed in. Avery’s hole was tight and resisted at first, but with just a little push, Bernard’s cock sank in deeply.
“Shit!” Avery yelped. Bernard had a big dick, and there was a potent pinching pressure in Avery’s backside. Avery lifted one foot off the ground and howled.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, go on, keep going,” Avery said breathlessly as more and more of Bernard’s mature meat slid into him, ignoring his body’s instinctual resistance. Avery moaned, as his prostate came alive and sent waves of sensation through his body. He heard activity outside the showerhouse — he suspected some men had heard what was going on in here and left so they wouldn’t walk in on it. That made Avery laugh to himself even as he grunted in pain.
With a final potent push, Bernard’s entire cock was inside him. Avery cried out for more, as Bernard began pumping his hips back and forth. Bernard was shocked — few girls could take his dick in its entirety, especially without a lot of lube and extra time to adjust. Avery had simply taken it with a minimum of whimpering, and now he moaned with pleasure that grew with every thrust of Bernard’s cock in and out of him.
“Damn, ah, shit!” Avery cried out again. His hands tightened into claws that dug at the linoleum floor of the showerhouse. He had scooted forward enough that his face was in the warm shower-water, while Bernard stayed mostly dry.
Bernard couldn’t ever fuck a woman like this, she would say he was doing it too hard, too rough, not romantic enough. It was nice to be able to just plow without worrying about that. He gripped Avery’s asscheeks and held on tight, using all of his weight and his strength to ram his meat in and out. He was so aroused he even found his hands roaming around to Avery’s cock.
He had given a reacharound back in boot camp, and he did it again out of instinct or habit, or maybe just plain repressed desire. He didn’t realize he had done it until his hands gripped Avery’s thick shaft and felt it pulsating beneath his grasp. Cum flowed over his fingers, as his grasp instantly sent Avery over the edge to his climax. It was hot and sticky, and it made Bernard focus his entire attention on that.
He was jacking a stranger off in the shower. He couldn’t believe it, but it didn’t slow him down any. He reached his own orgasm moments later, amid the frenzied moans arising from Avery’s throat. Jizz spurted out of both men, Avery’s puddling up near the drain it then flowed into while Bernard filled Avery’s ass with his creamy seed.
“Ah, shit, yeah, take it!”
Creamy cum sprayed deep into Avery’s ass. Avery had been just as surprised as Bernard about the sudden reacharound, but he certainly wasn’t about to complain. He just used both hands to support himself as he rammed his ass back and forth on Bernard’s studly cock.
More and more juices filled Avery up, turning into a frothy mess that dripped onto the floor of the showerhouse. The smell of funk was intense and potent, and it didn’t wash away even with the pair of showers still on.
Finally he was done. Bernard leaned back until his cock plopped out. Both men felt a surge of relief and an intense twinge of pleasure that dwindled slowly.
He sighed grandly. “Shit, man… I don’t even miss that girl.”
“Wanna sleep in my tent?” Avery asked, breathless and sweaty. He needed to take a whole nother shower, he thought with a laugh.
Bernard blushed and bit his lip. “I mean… I dunno…”
“How about this? It’s the red tent at the corner there by the campfire ring. You know where I mean…? The big one? You can just come in, so no one will know I’m already in there when you come in. You can just slide right in,” Avery said. “I’ll wake up if I’m already asleep.”
“Okay…” Bernard gulped.
“Don’t worry, it’ll be a ton of fun,” Avery said. He displayed his ass as Bernard backed out towards the changing area again. Avery stuck a finger in, brought some cum out and smeared it over his asscheek. “I’ll just get ready.”
Bernard grabbed his clothes and ran out. He didn’t even bother to get dressed first. His cock flopped between his legs as he tumbled out into the darkness. Luckily, nobody noticed.
Was he really going to sleep with that man tonight? He told himself no, but he had a feeling the answer was yes.
If I can’t find a woman, I’ll go back to him. But I’ll really try. For real. I won’t just wait a few minutes and then go there. Sir, no, sir.
