hazing – Mansploitation

Jockstrap Raid!

The football team at GHU did a panty raid, which means the gymnast team is allowed to turn the tables… The jocks get their jockstraps raided, resulting in a massive-athlete multiple-man locker room showdown both teams will never forget!

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Last year, the football team had done a panty raid on the cheerleaders in the locker room. They stormed in there half-naked and shouted ‘Panty Raid!’ over and over as they grabbed used and clean panties from the girls. It was a big scandal at GHU afterwards. The cheerleaders themselves called it an enjoyable prank, but the feminist groups on campus were less enthused.
But now this year, Avery and the other gymnasts marched into the men’s locker room a few minutes after football practice ended. His heart pounded as he and the other gymnasts chanted, “Jockstrap Raid! Jockstrap Raid! Jockstrap Raid!”
That was because the gymnastics team had won the state championship this year, the first GHU team to win a championship in years. The football team had had a dismal season, so Coach Marshall told the gymnasts to come on in and go to town on the football jocks.
The players were sullen, sweaty beasts, angry with each other for having lost the season badly and having had a disappointing practice today. They stood and sat on benches in the locker room, dressed mainly in their jockstraps, though a few were naked, crotches covered by their hands as they watched the gymnasts file into the locker room.
“Jockstrap Raid! Jockstrap Raid! Jockstrap Raid!”
Avery blushed. He wasn’t used to being this forward. It was normal for athletes to be so horny they couldn’t resist stealing girls’s panties. But he and his fellow gymnasts just didn’t do that kind of thing.
“Give us your jockstraps, men!”
The gymnasts clapped and hooted as they spread out. Someone even turned the lights off, so the locker room was dimly illuminated only by the emergency lighting. That made it significantly easier for Avery, who didn’t feel like he was about to be beat up as he approached Jimmy.
Jimmy was the quarterback and team captain, and he had the most well-sculpted ass that Avery had ever seen. Once a few months ago, Avery walked past the men’s locker room and caught a glimpse into the door as it swung shut. Jimmy was there, wearing a jockstrap and nothing else, flicking a wet towel. His muscled back was covered in either sweat or shower water, Avery couldn’t tell which. There was a sink area near the door, so Jimmy’s presence near enough that Avery could see him from outside suggested that Jimmy and the team were engaging in horseplay there in the lockers. Avery had shuddered at the sight of Jimmy’s plump asscheeks cradled by a soaked jockstrap.
Now he went up to Jimmy’s shadowy body. He stood with one foot on the bench, mid-conversation with a linebacker when the gymnasts filed in. He remained right there, balls overflowing from his jock pouch where it dangled between his open legs. His broad muscles were bare, his crotch unblocked from view, cuz Jimmy was shameless like that. When he spoke, his balls jiggled in the pouch of his jockstrap.
“Give up the jockstraps, gentlemen!” shouted the gymnastics team captain, Fred. He was the most flamboyant and feminine of the gymnasts, and as he spoke, he shook his ass in his trackpants in front of the tight end Charlie Smitkowski, who giggled like he was watching his first stripper give him a lapdance.
“This is weird, Jimmy.”
“Don’t be fuckin’ squeamish, man. Ain’t a big deal. We told the cheerleaders it weren’t a big deal, so it can’t be a big deal now-” Whoever that was — Avery didn’t see in the darkness — squealed then, and there was an explosion of movement.
“Damn, whoever that was, that’s too much, you can’t stick your finger in my ass!”
Avery ignored the nervous laughter of the football players. He steeled his own nerves and reached out for Jimmy’s broad, strapping chest muscles. Jimmy must not have realized it was going to happen, because he yelped in surprise and his muscles all tensed at once.
That rolling undulation of his powerful muscles was enough for Avery to get dizzy and overheated. Jimmy dripped with sweat, and his pectoral muscles were like overinflated soccer balls, hard and unyielding yet soft and inviting at the same time. Avery leaned in and licked the sweat off his nipples as Jimmy joined the other teammates in laughter.
“Oh yeah, nasty!”
“Lick it up, boys! Lick it up!”
They laughed cockily as though they enjoyed being the object of attention from a bunch of flamboyant gymnasts, but they were all distinctly nervous. Their muscles remained tensed as the gymnasts explored their football jock bodies.
“Jockstrap Raid! Jockstrap Raid!”
Meanwhile Avery’s hands roamed down Jimmy’s body. Jimmy stood there, flat on both feet now like a soldier at attention. His muscles quaked like he was slightly ticklish or just plain nervous at Avery’s hands on the straps of his jock.
A part of Avery wanted to keep going and stroke Jimmy off, but he didn’t — nobody else was, and he didn’t think Jimmy would allow that. Coach Marshall hadn’t said they could do it (though he hadn’t say they couldn’t either). And the football players hadn’t had sex with the cheerleaders after the panty raid — or had they? Now Avery wasn’t sure. He knew he heard once that the football players had all eaten out a cheerleader’s pussy at the same, and they had switched girls as a competition to see who was best.
That seemed gross and unsanitary to Avery, but, he could hardly complain. Once he pulled down Jimmy’s jockstrap and had it in his hand, he shoved the entire thing in his mouth. He suckled on it, trying to get every drop of salty moisture.
“Oh damn, I ain’t think they was gonna lick on ’em!”
“That’s is fuckin’ nasty. We ain’t suck on the panties.”
“Raython did.”
“Fuck you, I did not! I licked one panty-“
“You brought it back to the dorm afterwards though-“
“I ain’t suck on it!”
A fight broke out. In the dark, Avery couldn’t see who was involved. There was a flurry of punches, shouts of ‘come at me, then!’ and ‘try me, bro!’ but soon enough it was done. Avery couldn’t even tell who fought — Raython exchanged punches with someone, but that only lasted a moment and was more friendly than a real fight. But the players bumped into each other, sparking a real fight. Avery was right there in the melee. His heart raced. In the dark, fists flew willy-nilly, and more than one gigantic hulking linebacker rammed into him accidentally.
Yet Avery didn’t want to find his way out of the crowd. Everywhere he looked and everyplace he flailed his hands, all he gripped was sweat-dripping muscles, hairy flesh and jockstraps that Avery was desperate to get his hands on.
“Come at me, then bro!” someone shouted, as a brief fight erupted.
“Fuck you, man, no fighting in the locker room!” Jimmy shouted as the other shadowy player got up and stalked off towards the showers. Jimmy wagged his fat cock in that player’s direction. He scoffed. As the team captain, it was up to him to make sure they didn’t fight in the locker room. He sighed and glared at his teammates.
The remaining players were crammed in so close together that Avery could barely breathe. He was short, especially for a gymnast, so on most of the football players, Avery’s face was even with their nipple lines or even lower than that. Since the players were crammed into a tiny part of the locker room, Avery was pinned between their slabs of sweaty meat. He stuck his tongue out and everywhere he turned, he lapped up a fresh batch of freshly sweat-dappled muscle.
“Fuck you, Jimmy! You thought we would win! You promised it-“
“Oh grow up, Tony! I’m the team captain, of course I said we would win if we worked hard and played our best,” Jimmy said. “What kinduva team captain would say anything else?” He put his hands on his hips. Avery managed to squeeze through the players until he was behind Jimmy, whose sweaty back pressed against Avery’s face. Without thinking about it, Avery’s hand began loosely caressing the light blond hairs of the small of Jimmy’s back. When Jimmy didn’t protest, his fingers moved lower, playing with the moist funk of Jimmy’s asscrack.
“Maybe you shouldn’t be our team captain anymore!”
“After the season is over?! There’s not even any point to having a team captain anymore. There’s no more games,” Jimmy said.
“The cheerleaders are going to the basketball team party. The basketball team barely did any better than we did, and they’re all gonna get blowjobs-“
“We were invited to the same party,” Jimmy said. “Come on, guys-” Jimmy bristled and tensed up as Avery’s finger brushed over his asshole, his tight, dark, funky hole. His voice cut off and broke.
“We can get you off!” Fred shouted, and the other gymnasts all cheered.
The football players exchanged odd glances in the dark. It looked like some of them had forgotten the gymnasts were here. Avery realized only just now that more than a few of his fellow gymnasts were stroking off the football players in the dimly-lit locker room. A few of the football players let out some nervous laughter. One of them walked away, shaking his head as he headed to the showers.
But most of the team remained. Avery couldn’t believe this was happening. His hand roamed from Jimmy’s ass to his crotch. Avery’s heart skipped a beat as he gripped that thick shaft.
“Uh… Is this… okay?” Jimmy asked, directing the question at his teammates. There was a chorus of sharp breaths as the football players gasped. They looked at each other, raising their eyebrows, questioning who was going to give in to this and who was going to go take a shower.
No one actually answered Jimmy, but since no one — including Jimmy himself — walked away, the answer was apparently yes, at least for those jocks who hadn’t already left (a few had). Someone let out a long, low groan that provoked laughter in the other players.
“Who was that? Huh? Someone really likes it!”
“That was Raython, I’m sure of it.”
“Guess again, motherfucker. It was Tuck.”
“No it wasn’t. The guy on my dick ain’t even do it very good, nothing personal.” That was Tuck, the left tackle, who gasped then as the gymnast on his dick fell to his knees and swallowed his dick all the way down to the root.
“Ah, shit they doin’ it now! They doin’ it!”
One by one, the football players each said it was no big deal. Even Jimmy said it, though his voice quavered and his body tensed like he didn’t entire believe that. Or maybe he was so horny that his body tensed beneath Avery’s grasp. His dick throbbed.
Either one drop of precum escaped from Jimmy’s cock, or maybe it was a droplet of sweat. Regardless, Avery felt it coat Jimmy’s shaft and Avery’s fingers, lubing his hand up.
Something had changed then. Avery sensed it, and he knew everyone else had sensed it too — this jockstrap raid had become a circlejerk. The jockstraps themselves tumbled to the floor, forgotten. Someone was already getting someone else off, Avery could hear the moist suckling sounds.
“Ah, goddamn, it’s true what they say about men throating better than females… fuck…”
Avery dropped to his knees to start throating as well He was so short that when he went all the way to the ground as he usually would, he was too short. He could have crawled like that between Jimmy’s legs and Jimmy’s balls wouldn’t have dragged on Avery’s back — Jimmy was just too tall.
So Avery had to stretch his head upright, on his knees in front of Jimmy. He still had to strain to reach Jimmy’s cock, which was just slightly hard. It twitched as though trying to run away from Avery’s mouth when he kissed it on the tip.
“Oh, damn, my guy is makin’ out with it,” Jimmy said, with one muscled arm covering his eyes even though he was in a darkened locker room so he couldn’t see anyway. He giggled nervously like a little boy. The other players were reacting similarly — all except Raython, who reacted like he did this all the time.
“C’mon,” Raython said, “Go deeper…” He groaned and moaned as he did so. Avery couldn’t tell who was licking Raython’s shaft, but whoever it was gurgled as Raython’s cock rammed down his throat.
But Jimmy was too ginger about this to do anything like that. He flailed his hands above Avery’s head as though he wanted to start guiding him but didn’t want to touch him, like Avery’s short hair would remind him that the person tasting his cock was not a girl.
By now Jimmy’s cock was hard as stone. It throbbed and pulsated in Avery’s mouth, and it twitched as though it had a mind of its own. It communicated its desire to Avery through its vibrations in Avery’s hungry throat.
“Holy hell…”
“I was not expectin’ practice to end like this…”
Even in the dark, Avery could tell that Jimmy was red-faced, his chest and neck ruddy as pleasure wafted through his body. He suspected that Jimmy would have never agreed if the lights weren’t off in the locker room.
One of Avery’s hands snaked out without him thinking about it and grabbed the muscular booty of one of the players standing nearby. Avery moaned as he felt another pair of sweaty asscheeks, which twitched nervously beneath his touch.
He moved down to Jimmy’s balls, which were heavy and low-hanging. They smelled rank with sweat right now, though that scent was mostly indistinguishable from the locker room itself. Avery made as much noise as he could because it made the football players laugh — a deep, boisterous chorus of laughter that echoed in the locker room — and the other gymnasts joined in.
“Ah fuck, he slurpin’ on my balls now,” Jimmy murmured. Some of the other jocks laughed at his shocked tone.
Soon the locker room was filled with the deafening roar of loud suckling, moist bubbling sounds and wet choking as the gymnasts sputtered on massive jock cockmeat sliding down their throat. More than a few of the football players made plenty of noise too, moaning softly, cutting themselves off because no one — save Raython, who was shameless — wanted to seem like they were really into this.
But the sharp gasps and hyperventilating made it clear how enjoyable this was for the players, including Jimmy, who felt up his own nipples now.
Avery guided Jimmy’s hand from his chest to Avery’s own head. Jimmy instinctively gripped him tight and slammed his dick all the way down. They both groaned, but then Jimmy pulled away like he hadn’t meant to do that.
“Damn, why couldn’t you have long hair like a girl?”
Avery wanted to explain why, but his mouth was full of ballsack. He had had long hair in high school, but it made him look like a girl from behind and the football jocks had teased him so much he cut his hair. It wasn’t conducive to serious gymnastics either.
He gargled on the balls in his mouth, making a loud, somewhat nasty sound that caused the football players to all laugh. Only Jimmy didn’t laugh, because he threw his head back and moaned.
He wasn’t paying attention, which was perfect for Avery’s new plan. He took ahold of Jimmy’s hand again. Before, he had guided it to his head so Jimmy could really get it down his throat, though Jimmy had been uncomfortable with that. This time, however, Jimmy was busy moaning as his sensitive balls bounced and dripped sweat into Avery’s mouth.
So Avery guided Jimmy’s hand to his buddy, who was the dark-haired wide receiver George. Jimmy didn’t seem to notice as he clutched his teammate’s muscled back, and his hand was guided down to George’s ass.
Both Jimmy and George realized what was happening at the same moment. They both yelped and jumped. Jimmy drew his hand away, and Avery giggled.
Avery kept his mouth in position beneath Jimmy’s juicy balls, but then he moved his tongue back as he slid between Jimmy’s legs. Avery’s tongue ran along Jimmy’s sensitive taint, causing a shudder to run up his spine.
“Ah, damn, that tickles…”
The sweat here was fresh. It was salty and grimy, and it made Avery’s own cock pulsate in his hands. He writhed and Jimmy must have felt similarly, because his knees buckled and he nearly fell over.
But Avery didn’t stop there. He continued licking Jimmy’s taint as though he wanted to lick right through the skin. Then he slipped through Jimmy’s legs and came up, tongue-first on the other side.
That meant his face dived between Jimmy’s asscheeks. Jimmy wasn’t a very hairy jock overall, but his ass had plenty of fine blond fur. As soon as his tongue ran over Jimmy’s sensitive asshole, Jimmy bent over and moaned. His teammates laughed at him, but no one could quite see what was happening so they didn’t know that Avery was giving a rimjob.
Jimmy had clearly never had anyone lick his ass before. He gasped in shock with every lap of Avery’s tongue on that sensitive hole, and he writhed as though it hurt when Avery finally entered his ass. He backed his hips up, penetrating himself with Avery’s tongue.
The sweaty ass-funk of Jimmy’s unwashed body coated Avery’s mouth. He loved licking a big macho straight man’s asshole because it always tasted so nasty in a perfect way — it tasted like pure manhood, like Avery had taken all of the things that make a man manly and put them in a blender, then chugged it by the mouthful.
“I don’t know ’bout y’all,” Raython said with a groan. He loudly smacked his gymnast’s ass. “But I’m gonna stick this guy in the ass. That okay wit’ you, queer?” He laughed.
“What?!”
“You serious, Raython?”
In the darkness, Avery couldn’t see, but it sounded like Raython wasn’t waiting for the approval of his teammates. A moist slapping sound filled the air, and Avery could tell that it was Raython’s uncut cock sliding into someone’s ass.
“Hell yeah, I’s serious,” Raython said. “Real men don’t care what they stick it in, y’know. When yo’ balls is full, you gotta drain ’em somewhere.”
“No way!”
“Uh-huh.”
Raython cackled. “What ’bout you, Jimmy? You a real man or what?” The laughter vanished. Avery stuck his tongue deep in Jimmy’s ass as he reached around to stroke Jimmy’s cock. Jimmy bristled and his spine arched. Avery got the impression that Raython was Jimmy’s chief rival for the team captaincy next year, so this was just the most recent of Raython’s attempts to degrade Jimmy’s manhood.
“Fuck you, Raython, I ain’t squeamish. You know that. I took sloppy ninths on that fat chick, remember-?”
“Yeah, that ain’t nothin’, Jimmy.”
“Nothin’?! There was cum oozing out of her, man! It was dripping off my balls in clumps!”
“You drew the short straw!”
“Yeah, I know, but if I was squeamish I would’ve backed out. And I am gonna stick my guy in the ass. He been beggin’ me for it,” Jimmy said. He roared and pulled his ass away from Avery’s face. Before Avery even realized what was happening, he was bent over the thin bench between the lockers, and Jimmy began to shove his dick in.
Avery was focused on two things — first, he needed to relax his ass so Jimmy could get really deep inside him in it. Second, he needed to balance himself on the narrow bench, at one end of which sat a player, the wide receiver George. He faced away from Avery as he allowed some gymnast to get him off.
Since Avery was behind George, every time Jimmy slammed his dick into Avery’s ass, that forced Avery’s face forward. The motion planted Avery’s entire head in the meaty asscrack of George’s body, which was hairier and thicker than Jimmy’s.
He stuck his tongue out. He would have tried to lick George’s ass, maybe even given him a rimjob while Jimmy rammed his cock into Avery’s ass, but Jimmy pounded so hard Avery couldn’t keep still. All he could do was leave his tongue poking out so as he moved he covered George’s asscheeks and his lower back in his spit. He wasn’t even sure if George noticed — the players and the gymnasts were still crammed into a small area, so hands and tongues and muscled bodies bumped into each other all over the place.
“Yeah, ram it in that ass!”
Then the sensations grew so intense Avery couldn’t even keep his tongue out anymore. Jimmy pounded into him, his gingerness diminishing with every thrust of his hips. He used one thick-fingered hand to keep Avery’s head low, and his other elevated Avery’s hips so they were at the perfect height.
Jimmy’s big throbbing cock slid in and out. The precum flowed like frothy champagne, rivulets of it dripping into and out of Avery’s ass. Jimmy slammed his cock over and over, grunting — his reluctance had switched to aggressive lust now that he needed to prove something to Raython, who pounded even harder.
“Ugh, I smell that…”
The smell of cum and santorum filled the air. Was that Raython? George? Someone else? Avery couldn’t tell. Someone shot a huge, ripe load that smelled so tasty Avery licked at the air, succeeding only in getting a tongue-load of George’s ass instead.
After that first person — whoever it was — came, the others followed suit quickly. It seemed no one had wanted to be first, but no one wanted to be last either. They sprayed their loads over their bottoms’s faces and down their throats, moaning and flexing their muscles as they did. More than a few of them even slapped hands with each other while orgasming and filling their bottoms up with cum.
“Yeah, take that shit! Swallow it!”
“Open up!’
“Gonna fill yo’ guts, boi. Gonna fill ’em up real good.”
The loudest was Raython, whose roaring and pounding on his chest could be heard over the satisfied gurgling of the others. He grunted as he sprayed his load inside his bottom’s hole, coating his guts in cum that dripped out and onto the floor.
The smell of cum seemed to trigger Jimmy, who moaned in disgust, then in pleasure as he ran headlong into his own orgasm. His dick tingled and quivered, sending waves of pleasure up from Avery’s prostate.
He and Jimmy both came then at once, Avery shooting his load onto the floor and into his own hand, while Jimmy filled him up. “Ah, damn…” For the first time, Jimmy stopped gingerly avoiding touching Jimmy’s body. His knees buckled, and he leaned forward until his massive chest rested on Avery’s bare back.
If Avery weren’t mid-orgasm, it would have been painful because Jimmy was so big. His quarterback muscles pressed down on Avery, which forced Jimmy’s dick in so deep Avery tried to howl at the intense waves of sensations wracking his body — he couldn’t howl, however, because he couldn’t take a deep breath.
“Yeah, take it… Take it all…”
The cum flowed into him like water from a hose. He and Jimmy both moaned. Jimmy’s chest rattled where it dragged against Avery’s back, and Avery could hear Jimmy’s orgasmic grunt through his fleshy chest in addition to through his ears.
Jimmy lowered his head as he came, and he either didn’t notice or didn’t care that his face was planted in George’s muscled back. Finally Jimmy’s cock twitched one last time, sending a final wave of bliss through Avery’s body.
Then Jimmy pulled off. His cock plopped out with an audible moist sound that made Avery shake with desire.
“Well, uh-” Jimmy’s voice was cut off by the lights flickering back on.
For a moment, both teams were visible. The football jocks were standing and seating, while the gymnasts were on the floor, hunched over, bent down, kneeling, groaning, writhing as they swallowed the cum that had just been sprayed over them.
“Hey!” Coach Marshall stood there, his face red. He blew his whistle. “Hey! Gymnasts, get outta here! I told you could come in and steal their jockstraps! I ain’t say you could steal their virtue! Get the fuck out!”
Avery felt a surge of fear, like he was going to get in trouble — he had always been a good student. He wasn’t used to being in trouble. But he saw that his teammates weren’t getting worked up. They slowly cleaned themselves and headed towards the door behind Coach Marshall.
“Football players! Get in the shower! Now! On the double!” He screamed at the top of his lungs, so loud spittle dripped from his lips. “We’re having a team meeting in the shower, and I’m turning the hot water off!”
The players grumbled, but they jumped into action. They were all naked already, so they hurried towards the shower, where a few of their teammates were already cleaning themselves off. The shower area was still steamy for now, because Marshall hadn’t yet turned the hot water off.
Avery and the other gymnasts just giggled and headed towards the door. As Avery passed Coach Marshall, he tickled his crotch and felt his middle-aged cock twitch underneath his own jockstrap. Avery had thought Marshall was intensely arousing since the first moment he laid eyes on him.
“Hey! I ain’t part of the jockstrap raid!” Coach Marshall said. Avery and his fellow gymnasts giggled. Coach Marshall’s authoritarian, drill-sergeant-vibe vanished like he didn’t know how to interact with non-jock men. “You had better not do this without permission, again, boys. I give permission for all jockstrap raids. Only me.”
“Well, when do we get to do it again?”
“Yeah, what about the wrestling team?”
Coach Marshall opened his mouth as though to bark out some orders. Then he nodded his head thoughtfully. “Yeah. Fine. If the wrestling team loses next weekend, you can do a jockstrap raid on them. And the baseball finals are the week after that…”
The gymnasts cheered over Coach Marshall’s recitation of the sports teams at GHU and their final matches, and Avery smiled. He thought he was going to enjoy his freshman year.

The Linebacker

Avery is offended by the hazing horseplay of the GHU football team, so they come by to say sorry and give him a ride on the player of his choice. Avery is all too happy to forgive them, but then he turns down the six-packed studs everyone thought Avery would pick…

Instead he opts for the stout linebacker they call Gravyboat! Can Avery handle this thick-ass jock’s mountain of manmeat?!

Read it now as an ebook!

Or read the whole thing here!

When the waiting room to the massage parlor erupted in noise, Avery assumed it was a mistake. There was a bar next door, so maybe this group of rambunctious dudes had intended to go there and entered the wrong door. That seemed probable. They were whooping like this was the last stop on a pub crawl.
Avery hurried out to the waiting room, where he stopped short.
The entire football team from the GHU campus had come, more than fifty men filling into the cramped space, which had twelve chairs. Avery was flummoxed by the conglomeration of young bucks in loose-fitting sweatpants and ripped t-shirts.
“Youths…” Avery furrowed his brow. There was a time when he sought the vitality of young men. And he still did, in his own way. But Avery was more mature now. He had more to lose. He did not like the way they leaned on his chairs and the counter and the bamboo mats on the wall, and he could smell their feet from here, or maybe that was them, not just their feet, but Avery didn’t like it.
He wrinkled his nose.
They all spoke at once, the air filling with bravado, threats and challenges. At least three spoke to Avery, who couldn’t make out what anyone was saying. Two of the young men began arm-wrestling, which required them to get down on the floor on their bellies. The armwrestling, Avery later determined, was to decide which of the two “called dibs on upstairs for the party tonight, broh”. Six of them explained simultaneously why that was important. It involved girls. They wanted to fuck, presumably.
Avery could sympathize with that. He didn’t feel the same way, but he understood the impulse.
“Hey, hey, shut up, y’all, e’ryone shut up!” shouted the square-jawed quarterback, Jimmy, who looked like a Disney prince with a powerful shock of blond hair and broad shoulders like a plow. His brilliant eyes flashed handsomely. He made Avery’s heart flutter. His muscles rippled under the jersey he wore, not a jersey for his team, it was a 49ers jersey.
That was when Avery spotted Quinn Webblehutt, the quiet one in the corner, looking like he didn’t want to be noticed. He sat in a chair properly, and he blushed when he laughed. He avoided eye contact with Avery.
That’s because Avery knew Quinn. He came in last weekend.
Quinn was a freshman linebacker, and he was fat. He was also very strong and athletic and he was very fast for his size, but he was more than four hundred pounds and he had a belly that could fit a dozen Averys. He had come into the massage parlor and gotten a massage. Afterwards, he took out his disgusting fat dick and farted with his disgusting fat ass and told Avery to “lube up”.
That fucking asshole had come in here thinking Avery was some kind of cum receptacle of last resort for peanut-dicked hairy lardasses. Quinn said that he was being hazed, that he was told he had to come here and ram the fuck out of Avery and that Avery was to bend over and take it in whatever position Davy chose.
Anyway, Avery might choose to service a man he liked, someone with a physique worth admiring. But he did not take watery loads from some nineteen-year-old behemoth who smelled like a load of bread that got left out in the rain, and he did not appreciate his services being assumed. He said that first to Quinn and second on the phone to the head coach at the GHU athletic department. Coach Marshall Shapiro.
Now Quinn was over there in the corner looking chagrined as a toddler, eyes aimed at his feet. He didn’t talk to anyone.
“Hey, y’all, shut up!” Jimmy shouted again and again until they finally fell more or less quiet. Jimmy cleared his throat and spoke to Avery. “Uh, look… So, we heard, like… You were pretty mad ’bout the, you know… hazing.” Jimmy smiled, showing off his dimples. A girl could drown in those dimples, Avery thought. Jimmy flashed his grin like he thought it would get him out of any problem. “We didn’t mean that you had to, y’know… do anything. It wasn’t like… it was just a little thing that got out of control. You know, hazing. Nobody was like… it wasn’t required.”
A few of the other players laughed. Avery crossed his arms over his chest. He felt very small right now, but powerful.
“So, uh… We… I — I, very much, but also we, we need you to call Coach Marshall, and, uh, tell him that we’re okay now. You gotta tell him we apologized and everything’s alright, broh. It’s all good. He won’t stop being, like… he’s been like very shouty, it’s been, you know… Like…” Jimmy blushed like Quinn, as an underhushing arose from the assembled jocks, some of whom played out like they were grabbing each other’s balls and squeezing, which made them silently laugh. That made Avery suspect Coach Marshall had squeezed the shit out of Jimmy’s balls. “Coach Marshall was like… mega-pissed. I mean, you just gotta tell him that, alright? Tell him you accepted our apology.”
“You haven’t apologized,” Avery said.
“Oh, yeah.” Jimmy stripped off his shirt and flexed his muscles in front of Avery’s face. His chest was broad and clean, brightly pale, his six-pack etched, his pecs rippling like a sea in a storm. He got down on his knees as though he was going to propose marriage. “I’m sorry. I apologize for not respecting you and having the… not respect to, uh… I’m an in-grate. I was in-grating. I was ingrated. Ingrating to you. Disrespectfully,” he said. So… I apologize.” Then his eyes lit up. “And Quinn’s a fucking dumbass, I made him run a buncha laps and do this thing… It’s gross, but it’s like… He sucked on my jockstraps for a whole practice-” The players all tittered. “It was in his helmet. It’s cool, he’s cool You’re cool, man. We’re cool. All cool now.” He raised his eyebrows in Avery’s direction.
“Hmm.”
“And, to make up for it,” Jimmy said with a wry grin and a smile. “You can — you don’t got to — but you can, if you want… You can pick one of us, and uh… y’know…” He blushed. “You can do, like… If you want ‘em in ya ass, y’know… Whoever you pick gonna do it. Anyone you want.” He again made his pecs ripple and flexed his six-pack in Avery’s direction. A few guys snorted and snickered at him. Jimmy smiled again. He seemed to think Avery would pick him, presumably because he was the one girls threw themselves at. His body language suggested the picking was just a formality, and it was already a given that Jimmy would be the choice.
Avery smiled. “So you’re going to apologize for assuming I wanted to get it up the ass from a stranger by allowing me to pick the stranger?”
Jimmy shrugged. “Well, yeah. Kinda.” He paused. “Yes. That exactly, that’s what we’re doing. Sorry, is that-?”
“That’s fine,” Avery said, but he rolled his eyes. That seemed like a bad lesson for Coach Marshall to be teaching. But Avery really did want to take it up the ass from someone in this room. A linebacker, in fact, not the quarterback Jimmy. Not the freshman linebacker Quinn.
The entire room was silent. Avery’s heart thumped. These men all looked at him.
Avery already knew who he was going to choose. There was a senior linebacker with pale skin and a massive barrel-shaped frame, kneeling because there were no more chairs available. He was big and brutish in a crude, cavemanish way. He was Gravyboat — his real name was Davy. He looked like the kind of beast that Avery wanted. He was exactly the kind of man Avery wanted most: too big and too raunchy for girls, too hairy, too rough, crude, rude and overwhelmingly massive. His hair was thick and greasy, his chin scruffy, his clothes stained and torn. He didn’t have a six-pack at all, but he wasn’t fat either. He had just the right amount of heft over his powerful body.
“Who you want, huh?”
“He’ll pick Jimmy. Or Raython if he likes black dick, like Kelly-“
“Shut up, broh-“
“Don’t give him ideas, nigga!”
“-jacked me off in the exam room-“
“Fuck you-“
Avery just ignored their arguments. He walked slowly through the crowd, tickling each one. He grabbed their asses and even kissed their biceps as though carefully inspecting each player to see who fit his needs. When a pair of cocky black guys pulled their dicks out together to show off how big they were, Avery gave each one a stroke and nodded.
“Nice ones, sure,” Avery said. He was about to move on, but then he had an idea. “Sword-fight.”
They must not have heard that term, cuz they both looked confused for a moment, then their eyes lit up at the same time. They flopped their limp dicks at each other, laughing and jumping away, then they came closer and did it again as the rest of the team erupted in laughter. A few others did the same — sword-fighting right there in the waiting room — but Avery just moved on.
“Sorry guys, stop by and see me sometime. Come together.” He winked at them, and they both erupted in furious laughter, which made their dicks jiggle like fat baseball bats in an earthquake. Avery moved on down the line. “Don’t stop swordfighting.”
The two black guys — Raython and Easy — laughed and chortled, and they kept their dicks touching. They avoided looking at each other or at Avery after that, they just kept their heads cocked to the side as their fronts jutted towards each other so their limp cocks smushed against each other. Easy and Raython more or less stopped sword-fighting, they watched Avery instead, but they did keep their dicks touching, which Avery appreciated.
But he kept on going, tracing the outline of one handsome stud’s pectoral muscles and even kissing his bare nipple, prompting another outpouring of chatter and laughter from the others. But Avery at last stopped when he reached the one they called Gravyboat, who kneeled in a ratty old t-shirt without sleeves.
“Lift your arm,” Avery said.
Gravyboat furrowed his brow, but did so, emitting a baritone laugh to conceal his anxiety as his teammates chuckled. Avery hadn’t gone for anyone else’s armpit. But Gravyboat was sweaty and unwashed, and Avery could tell that he was going to be fragrant. Avery sniffed his armpit, which was rank and made Avery’s cock throb in his pants. The team erupted in applause, and Gravyboat blushed — it took a lot for him to be embarrassed, but that was enough.
“Gravyboat! Gravyboat! Gravyboat!”
“Do the Gravyboat!”
The “Grayboat” was a dance and an intimidation tactic on the field. Gravyboat had a deep voice befitting his massive size, and when he let out a warcry, it could be heard over the cheering fans in the stadium, at least on the sidelines. He did a shaking-ass dance at the same time. The crowd went wild, always did. He had spent hours practicing it back in high school.
But it felt awkward to do it now, off the field, outside of practice and in front of this tiny flamboyant weirdo. Gravyboat did it because his friends demanded it. He roared and flexed his muscles all at once, cringing because he felt Avery’s feminine fingers stroking him as he did.
It was a joke because Gravyboat did not have a perfect body. Not fat like Quinn, Gravyboat — Davy Mitchell — was just thick. He was perfectly thick, in Avery’s view. The other football players mostly competed on their six-packs. It was only Gravyboat, Quinn and a handful of others who had any meat on their bones.
Gravyboat blushed so red Avery wondered if he was going to pass out, while Avery’s hands explored his chest and the firmness underneath the padding atop his torso. He even licked a trail from Gravyboat’s neck — which Avery had to practically jump up to reach — down to his pecs, feeling his lungs expel that awesome cloud from his cavernous lungs. His anxiety made his pecs and stomach and shoulders and arms all ripple in turn.
“I choose you,” Avery said, just in case it wasn’t obvious. “Will you carry me into the room?”
Gravyboat blushed. Part of why he had adopted the Gravyboat-persona was that he found it difficult to present himself well — he didn’t have the patience to wash and brush his hair, to shave, to wear deodorant every single day, to always shower after a workout, to do his laundry and wear clean clothes. He found that the best way to overcome the teasing and snickering was to get so big and muscular that people were scared of him and to pretend that his behavior was a deliberate choice, that it came with being The Gravyboat.
But he had never been sexy as far as he was concerned. He got girls sometimes, but they never seemed satisfied with him. They told him when to shower (seemingly all the time), they tried to get him to cut his hair, shave his chest, wear beard-oil, which he thought was preposterous, and even cologne, which he hated.
So he blushed beet-red as he scooped Avery up in his arms and carried him into the back of the massage parlor. His friends laughed, clapped and slapped Gravyboat’s plump asscheeks as he walked past them. Avery laughed too, and one of his arms wrapped around Gravyboat’s barrel-shaped body to hug his thickness close.
In the massage room, Gravyboat put Avery down. It was impossibly quiet back here, once the door slammed shut, the carrying-on in the waiting room now sounding distant and faded. Gravyboat’s smile disappeared. Gravyboat wondered if he smelled bad, or if he looked dumb and unfashionable. Why didn’t Avery choose someone who knew how to pick out clothes? He was surprised that Avery had gone for him instead of Jimmy, whom the girls loved and who always wore impeccable clothing, or one of those black tight ends who danced well and smelled like coconut lotion. One of them had an old dude who jerked him off for money all the time. He says — the old dude says — the cum of a young black athlete will make his own dick bigger and his erections last longer.
Maybe that was true. Gravyboat was still not gonna drink a black dude’s cum. He blushed and looked down at his ugly boxish shoes, which he had to buy at a fat dude’s store.
“Are you okay?” Avery asked. “You look nervous. It won’t hurt, I promise. You’ll like it.”
Gravyboat shrugged. “I ain’t never done this.” He blushed again and bit his lip. “I mean… I’ll do it, I don’t care. Ass is ass, right?” He pounded on his chest and made that warcry again — no dance this time, cuz the massage room was small — the sound prompted whooping and cheers from out in the hall, where some of his teammates listened at the door — but now it sounded forced and weak, at least to Gravyboat himself. They weren’t into it. If you do it too much, the crowd loses interest, Gravyboat had learned that. Always leave ’em wanting more.
Avery giggled. He liked Gravyboat’s machismo being inhibited by his anxiety. It was cute. Gravyboat’s hairy body trembled as Avery pulled his shorts down. His crotch smelled strongly, not bad, but it smelled of fresh sweat and old cum. It smelled like the crotch of a man who jacked off a lot.
That was exactly true. Gravyboat did jack himself off a lot. The women threw themselves at Jimmy and Raython, not Gravyboat and Quinn.
He bristled and firmed up as soon as Avery touched his cock. He jiggled and grunted. Not knowing how to react, he stood motionless, like he was at a doctor’s appointment. He opened his eyes wide, arms forming fists that dangled stiffly at his side. He murmured to himself as his dick got rock-hard right away.
“You sure get hard quick. You must be real horny,” Avery said. He smiled.
His cock throbbed in Avery’s grasp. Gravyboat stared at it like it was disobeying him. He gulped and looked at Avery. “I get girls. I had a girlfriend.”
“I wasn’t implying anything,” Avery said. “You have such a big dick. You must have hurt your girlfriend, huh?”
Flattery seemed to help Gravyboat relax. He grunted his acknowledgment as his dick throbbed. It was thick as a coke can, smooth aside from one clear vein running up the undershaft. Avery liked how it pulsated in his grip.
When it was fully hard, Avery put the tip in his mouth. Gravyboat sucked in his breath, which Avery both heard and felt in his cock twinging. Avery giggled around the meat in his mouth, which he licked and slathered spit on. He ran his tongue up and down the shaft.
“Wait, wait,” Gravyboat covered his eyes with one arm. He shifted his weight on his feet.
Avery did not wait right away. He wanted to make sure Gravyboat felt the pleasure of Avery’s cock on his shaft, as Avery slurped and spat up all up over it. Both of Avery’s hands worked it too. When Gravyboat stilled looked too tense, Avery pulled his mouth off it. He kissed it on the piss-slit. “You have a nice cock.” He thwacked it on his own face. It was so thick and heavy it was like a club, but Avery enjoyed the meatiness of it when it slapped against his flesh.
“This is so weird. Raython does it all the time. He has an old guy. White guy. I think he hasn’t said, oh shit, my god, shit, so like, his name is Raython, he’s the one out there with… I don’t know, what, a shirt probably it’s cool but anyway he’s okay, he’s okay, Raython is, what was I saying. Raython Lake. That’s his name. The black guy, I don’t know the white guy’s name. I guess maybe he’s not white, I don’t know. Raython just says he’s ‘my old guy’. He buys him beer and stuff. Shirts.” Gravyboat sounded like a man on the verge of exploding. “Uh-uh. So that’s cool. I’m not asking you to buy me anything! I mean, just, I was sayin’, Raython does it all the time.”
Avery wasn’t listening. He stuck his tongue out and ran it down Grayboat’s shaft, then slurped up some of the spit he left behind. Gravyboat’s voice wavered and broke. He gasped.
Once the taste of salty precum hit Avery’s tongue, he knew Gravyboat was ready for the next step. Avery turned around and bent over. Gravyboat stood perfectly upright, chest as he pretended he wasn’t nervous. He was glad Avery’s ass was smooth and hairless, like a girl’s.
“Oh…” Gravyboat grunted in surprised as his manhood slipped into Avery’s ass. He was expecting it to be uncomfortable — the girls he had fucked in the ass had been small and delicate and unsure about Gravyboat’s size and his willingness to go slow, so those experiences had not been entirely successful. He had never had someone take charge of forcing his uncut cock into their tight asshole before. He just stood there like an idiot, arms flailing in mid-air.
Then he slapped Avery’s asscheek and groaned. He blushed, thinking it was too weird to touch Avery’s ass. But he couldn’t stop himself. It felt so good to spread those cheeks and give himself better access to Avery’s tight hole, which he drilled into inexorably. Avery’s cheeks even jiggled kinda, not exactly like a girl’s but not entirely unlike a girl’s. Gravyboat was glad to not have a girl telling him to slow down every few seconds. He was glad that Avery didn’t even consider backing out because his dick was too big or because his breath smelled like garlic fries.
He had intended to remain like that, standing upright, so he didn’t have to touch Avery. But as his orgasm approached, Gravyboat found himself losing his inhibitions.
“Open that ass up, damn…” His voice was hoarse and monstrous, he thought, and it caused Avery to shudder.
That wasn’t actually his voice that made Avery shudder, it was his cock, sending sparks of sensation up Avery’s spine. He was adept at taking big cocks, but Gravyboat’s was exceptionally thick, and it filled him up in a most delightful way. Avery intended to make loud orgasm sounds to embarrass Gravyboat in front of his friends, but it turned out to feel so good he didn’t have a choice. He made those sounds by instinct, and he cried out for more.
Finally he wrapped one of his broad arms around Avery’s face, and they both went down to the ground. Gravyboat didn’t mind. The idea of rutting on the floor was nasty and raunchy and perfect. Avery was too enthralled by the intense pressure in his ass to even consider the location important.
Gravyboat’s chest rubbed against Avery’s smooth back as he slammed his cock in and out. He was aware of his teammates peering in through the door, shushing each other and running away when they caught a glimpse. Someone even threw something at him, maybe a paper airplane? He was too engrossed in Avery’s ass to go look.
“Ah, fuck!” Gravyboat roared. He pounded away at Avery’s ass, using his entire body to drill Avery into the massage room floor. Avery was only dimly aware of the discomfort and pain that resulted, because his prostate exploded in intense pleasure.
Avery barely even touched his cock before an orgasm erupted within him. He moaned, the sound drowned out by Gravyboat’s baritone bellow. He writhed, biting his lip so hard he drew blood. Cum flew into his ass, while Avery shot his own jizz too, onto the floor.
So much cum filled him up that Avery could do little more than lay there and bask in the glory of creamy heat seeping into him. The puddle of cum on the floor from his own load coated his belly.
As he shot his wad, Gravyboat didn’t stop fucking. He kept grunting, the sound breaking, interrupted with moist exhalations as he slathered spit over the back of Avery’s head. He gripped Avery in a tight chokehold, making it hard to breathe.
“Fuck, broh, take it, don’t move, don’t move.” Gravyboat’s voice was plaintive and desperate. His hot breath condensed on Avery’s cheek. “Shit.”
They were both motionless for a moment. Gravyboat’s cock shot another wad of cum, a final jet of heat seeping into Avery’s guts, and Avery felt it trickle out of his ass. It puddled up on the floor of Avery’s massage room.
Then all at once, they both fell limp. Gravyboat landed on top of Avery, plopping there, his dick limpening inside him. Avery was utterly unable to breathe, or tell Gravyboat to get of. He couldn’t even squirm.
He wasn’t upset though.He exulted in the feel of Gravyboat’s muscles enveloping him, the musk of his unwashed body potent now that he was covered in fresh sweat.
“Shit, man.” Gravyboat coughed. He got up, his dick plopping out of Avery’s ass. “Shit… Shit, man.” He took a deep breath.
Avery sat up, heaving for air. He was exhausted. He had never been taken a dick that felt that good. He stood on uneasy legs. “Thanks,” he said weakly.
Gravyboat nodded. His swarthy face was crimson from both embarrassment and exhaustion. He thought if he said anything, his voice might break, so he was quiet. He put his tattered jockstrap on without bothering to clean his cock off.
Jimmy stuck his head in the door, but kept his eyes aimed upward so he didn’t see anything. “Did you bite his head off, Gravyboat?”
“No. He was a perfect gentleman,” Avery said. He smiled at Gravyboat, who walked out carrying his clothes. He wore nothing but that jockstrap, which was soaked to transparency with the fluids that clung to Gravyboat’s cock. Gravyboat sniffled like he didn’t care as his teammates howled and slapped his hairy asscheeks, which were bare, cradled by that jockstrap. Those two black guys, Raython and Easy, were still dick-to-dick because Avery never said they could stop sword-fighting, and they still avoided looking at each other.
Jimmy furrowed his handsomeness in Avery’s direction. “Really? A gentleman?”
Avery nodded. “He was perfect. You can send me men like him anytime. I’ve got plenty of happy endings to give out.”

The Space Marine

When Avery is rescued by a heroic space marine, he didn’t realize he was in for a taste of sweat-nasty alpha male military meat! This is his most incredible adventure in down and dirty man-on-man action yet!

Read it now as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here

Avery knew that the Space Marine Corps would come rescue him, but that didn’t make it any less scary. Or at least, not all that much less scary.
His ship had been overrun by the Beta-Rezzedian bug-people, who were a sort of gooey beetle-like species of human-genociding monster.
When the Beta-Rezzedian people swarmed into Avery’s mostly empty ship, he activated the switch that released a poison gas. They quickly died, while Avery waited it out in space. It was pretty grody, the beetle-people’s bodies leaking fluids onto the floor of the ship, their carapace disintegrated and their innards flowing like spilled spaghetti onto the floor.
Avery didn’t much care about the ship though, so he wasn’t worried about the mess. He was going to abandon it. He was the only person on board, and he had already sent out the rescue signal. He waited with a spacesuit on, sitting on top of the ship while the beetles died inside.
The stars shone in the inky blackness of space, which was suffocatingly silent, the only sound Avery could hear being the pump of his own oxygen tank. Inside the Beta-Rezzedians melted from the inside out, but Avery didn’t hear that. He just waited.
Space was not beautiful here, Avery thought. It was just an inky black vastness. Even with the spacesuit on, Avery could feel the sheer nothingness all around him, nothingness so profound it would turn him to nothing too. In some parts of space, it had a calm, sepulchral beauty to it.
But not here, he thought, or maybe it was just the knowledge that the ship beneath him was filled with liquified bug-people. Maybe knowing that put him in a foul mood and tainted everything he saw.
Finally, just when he was beginning to wonder if it wasn’t going to happen, there was the UFW Joseph Conrad, a ship from the United Federation of Worlds. They were simply a beam of light at first, a mote in the infinite blackness of space. Avery hurried back into the ship even though he had hours to spare before the Joseph Conrad made it here.
The bugs were gone, the ship covered in goo. The poison gas smell lingered (it wasn’t toxic to humans, though it would be nauseating in large doses). Avery quickly grew bored waiting. He practiced his distressed wail.
UFW Joseph Conrad to Private Ship XKIL233234, do you read me?
“Yes, sir… I’m sorry, sir, I don’t know how to work this radio. Are you getting this?” Avery tried to sound helpless.
Yes, we heard you, sir. We have received your distress signal and are en route.
Avery went to the pilot’s pod, the only part of the ship not covered in Beta-Rezzedian innards. He waited there.
“There he is, we got you, sir-“
“You have nothing to fear, all the buggers are gone!”
Avery was disappointed that some shirtless hunk didn’t carry him to the rescue ship. But their sensors still read poison gas, and they beamed aboard well before they could determine that the air was safe. They wore biohazard suits — distinctly unsexy. Avery wasn’t even positive that the person who carried him was human until they got aboard the Joseph Conrad.
“Everything’s gonna be alright, sir, we gotcha!” said the scruffy-bearded space marine when his helmet was finally off.
“Oh, I… I… I don’t think I’ll ever feel right again!” Avery said, pretending to feel faint so the space marine would hold him in his arms.
He was Private Wojohowitz, but everyone called him Wojo. Once he took the protective suit off, he was down to his skivvies and a tee shirt that was so stained it was black. He didn’t have time to put more clothes on because he wanted to get Avery to sickbay right away.
Besides that, it was ungodly hot on the Joseph Conrad, and there were no women. So more than one space marine went around fully naked all the time. Avery spied one such man just before being whisked into the sickbay.
“Oh, I’m feeling much better-“
“Well, I’ll need to monitor you for awhile. You had a traumatic experience, after all,” the doctor said. He was handsome and steely-eyed, but he was a little old for Avery’s taste, and he was no space marine.
Avery wanted Wojo.
But he waited until the doctor was done, or at least had walked away. Then Avery got up, detached the needles and monitors from his body and headed out.
He went off to find the man who had rescued him, that square-jawed steely-eyed man, Wojo. He found him in the gym, playing a game with another studly young man. It was something rather like squash or racquetball, Avery gathered, but with flashing multicolored lights that appeared to mean something. By the time he thought he was starting to understand it, it was over, and Wojo had won.
He came out of the room shirtless and sweaty, bucking his hips and chanting. “I’m the champion once again!” He pounded on his chest and bumped the man he had just beaten, who scowled, hair matted to his head.
Then Wojo saw Avery standing there, fully-clothed and not at all looking like a space marine. “Oh, hey, you’re looking better.”
“Hmmm…” Avery grinned and looked Wojo up and down, blushing as he was overwhelmed by the body heat and the intense macho aura emanating from Wojo’s body. “I wanted to say thank you for rescuing me.”
“You ain’t gotta do that.” Wojo was visibly jazzed up. His pecs bounced a few times, seemingly without his awareness, and he shifted his weight on his feet. He would always deny it, but Wojo got a thrill when he realized Avery was checking out his body. “It’s our duty, you ain’t gotta say thanks.”
“Well… not say it. I wanted to demonstrate it,” Avery said. He sucked on one finger while his other hand grasped Wojo’s sweat-soaked shirt. He pulled gently on the fabric.
Wojo’s eyes opened wide and he nodded. He licked his lips as he looked Avery up and down. He shifted his weight between his feet, then moved to pull his workout shorts down but stopped short — he had forgotten they weren’t somewhere private.
He checked that no one was watching — there were others preparing to work out, or to play this squash-like game next, but no one facing this way right now. He gripped Avery by the lip and spread his mouth. He examined it briefly — whether checking for disease or whether it would be big enough to deep-throat him, Avery couldn’t tell — then grabbed his ass through his clothes. He slipped one hand into Avery’s pants, fingered his asshole very lightly and then nodded. He wiped his finger off on Avery’s shoulder. He looked dubiously into Avery’s eyes. “You’re into that?”
“I am… Do you have any women on this ship?”
Wojo scoffed. “No. It’s not allowed, no women aboard a Corps vessel. The presence of women saps men of their power.”
“Hmm… I can do that too. I love sapping all kinds of things out of men,” Avery said with a giggle.
“Come then.” He grabbed Avery by the wrist and dragged him off. He walked awkwardly like he had a hardon already, and it kept getting worse in his pants. Avery teased him by breathing heavily so he could hear it, and moaning softly into his ear from behind.
“You’re going to ram me, right? Do I get to eat your ass too?” Avery stuck his tongue out and licked his lips. Wojo faced the other way so he couldn’t see, but he could hear it and his ears pricked up. Avery smiled — he knew he had him.
Wojo stopped short. “You serious?” His face turned from serious to giddy, then serious again. He took a deep breath. “Hell yeah, that’s nasty. No one can find out though, they’ll make fun of me for rammin’ a man.”
“Sure. Is it against the rules?”
“Sorta. It’s not a big deal, but, like… I don’t wanna get caught anyway.” He licked his lips and grabbed his cock through his satiny shorts. Avery tried to touch them too, but Wojo stopped him and continued.
Wojo led him out of the gym and into the locker room. Beyond that was a long row of showering stalls. Avery was annoyed to see that they were all individual stalls. Usually space marines had big shared showers, and that, he thought, was always sexier.
As he walked through the showering area, Wojo dropped his shorts, not even willing to take the time to stop walking first. Avery tried to get a grope of his ass, but Wojo walked more quickly than him and he couldn’t really get a touch. Finally Wojo stopped and Avery bumped into his sweaty back. His asscheeks jiggled as Avery had to clutch them for support.
“You really gonna eat my ass? And jerk me off, aw, fuck yeah,” Wojo said, his voice increasing in volume now that they were alone in the shower. He had a big grin on his face. He loved to ram, and he didn’t get to do it very often. Avery’s hand stroked those hairy asscheeks so plump and full of power.
There was a tattoo there on Wojo’s lower back, an outline of a spaceship and a phrase in an ancient script: Honor Is the Only Virtue.
“Some of the nice-lookin’ guys get their ass eat up by girls, like whores.” He blushed, licking his lips like he couldn’t wait to start. “I’m too hairy, they won’t do that to me.”
“You poor baby…”
They went to one of the shower stalls in the middle — since there were two entrances, one at either end, those were the remotest showers. The stalls were not completely enclosed, however, and the walls only went up to chest height (on Wojo; it extended up almost to Avery’s shoulders).
“Goddamn, man, I really need this. Get on your knees, okay? C’mon, get on your knees. Let’s go it, let’s go,” Wojo said, excited like a little boy on Christmas.
No one else was showering at the moment, and since the room wasn’t hot or humid, and Wojo didn’t seem concerned, Avery guessed this was not a designated showering time. That was good because Avery didn’t want to get interrupted and caught. Once they were safely behind the little curtain — which only covered about a foot of vertical space, just barely enough to conceal most men’s groin and butt regions — Avery dropped to his knees as Wojo turned the water on.
It was scorching hot at first, and Avery yelped. He crawled away, and Wojo fell, nearly on top of him.
It was a good thing that Wojo was already slick with sweat or he would have toppled right onto Avery’s leg and probably broken it because he was so heavy. His muscles were dense and leaden, and he fell on the threshold between the tile flower and the shower tub. Instead he just slid over Avery’s ankle and then his heavy, fur-covered thigh landed on Avery’s chest.
Intertangled as they were on the ground — which was freezing cold linoleum right up to where the water spray made it burning hot — Avery finally got a really good grope of Wojo’s ass and trunk-like thighs. Wojo reached up to turn the cold water up as he struggled to his feet in the slippery shower.
He furrowed his brow at Avery, who blushed, his hands caressing Wojo’s tattooed muscles. There was a flower, something similar to a tulip, on Wojo’s thigh. It was a brilliant flash of green leaves and rich violent petals, just fingernail-sized and right on his inner thigh.
“What’s that? Why’d you get a flower tattoo?”
He blushed. “It’s nothing. It’s… just part of being in this unit,” he said. He was in the shower spray now that the water had cooled down enough that it was merely hot, not scorching. Avery pretended to have difficulty standing and used Wojo’s sturdy body for support. Clean water flowed over them both, and Avery licked some of the sweat off Wojo’s chest before it was washed away.
Wojo didn’t need to explain. The space marine corps had an informal rule that any man who was caught having sex with a very fat woman — like, very, very fat, probably morbidly obese — had to get this very tattoo somewhere on his body. Wojo had presumably chosen the inner thigh because it was unobtrusive and not very sensitive to pain. There were other colored tulips that members got tattooed to signify that they were caught in flagrante delicto with a nonhuman alien, a man, an old woman and even an animal, as well as variously embarrassing acts like touching another man’s balls when gangbanging a woman or cumming in one’s pants when getting a lapdance.
That thought made Avery giggle — he loved military men and their sophomoric machismo. He wondered if Wojo’s solitary tattoo signified that he was sexually inexperienced, or if he just never got caught doing any of the things that would warrant another colored tulip.
If he were caught ramming Avery, he’d have to get a pink tattoo of a tulip, which was called a “Pinkslit Tulip”.
“Oh, come on… tell me what it means,” Avery said with a laugh.
“Shush.” Wojo frowned. He looked very serious now. Reminding him about the tattoo had made him realize how much he didn’t want to get caught doing this. He didn’t think about not doing it — having not seen a woman for weeks, and having no chance of seeing one for weeks more, he was desperate to get his dick wet. “I ain’t allowed to explain it,” he said, his voice flat and unwavering. “It’s just a tattoo, it’s not important.”
Wojo gently but firmly pushed Avery to his knees, while he kept an eye out for anyone coming into the shower. A few voices could be heard out in the locker room, but Wojo wasn’t concerned.
Avery shrugged. He thought it would have been hot for Wojo to admit he fucked an extremely fat woman and had been caught by his friends. He’d liked to know what led to it happening — probably a prostitute, Avery guessed — but it seemed clear Wojo wasn’t going to be forthcoming with that.
So he finally got on his knees and popped Wojo’s dick in his mouth. Wojo didn’t look down, he just closed his eyes for a moment and grunted. Shower water streamed over his head, washing his sweat down over Avery’s face.
“Goddamn, yeah, get your tongue on it… Shit…” Wojo closed his eyes. The hot water felt so good in his greasy hair, and his cock throbbed as it came to life. He had to fight back an urge to shout and pound on his chest — he always wanted to be loud during sex — but he knew that would attract attention from the others. That was how he had gotten caught with the fat whore, whom Wojo adored and missed and looked forward to seeing again; he had yelled fuck yeah as he came so loudly that one of his squadmates, having just finished fucking a different prostitute, came to see what was happening. He had been dragged to the tattooist moments after blowing his wad inside her.
None of that was technically allowed. Neither pre-marital sex nor any kind of interaction with a prostitute nor any tattoo that communicated a message “incompatible with the mission of the Space Marine Corps” were allowed. Most of those rules, however, were enforced roughly never, certainly not on a bucket of bolts like this drifting through outer space. The brig on this ship had been turned into overflow shortage for canned food since the replicators had stopped working after about a week.
But aside from the tattoo, the only punishment for getting caught would maybe be a few weeks cleaning the shower — which Wojo would only do half-assedly anyway. It was mainly the teasing he wanted to avoid.
“Hell yeah, swallow that shit deep, man,” Wojo said, trying to keep his voice low despite being a big man with a chest-rattlingly deep voice. It resonated in the shower room. Luckily no one was around to hear it, though Avery heard voices talking and laughing not too far away.
Soon, Wojo’s manhood was rock-hard. He grunted and flexed his hips to ram Avery’s throat as hard as he could without making any noise or moving his head too much, since he wanted to keep an eye out. Avery reached up to massage his plump nipples; his pecs rippled, but then he swatted Avery’s hands away because they could be seen.
Creamy precum stuck to Avery’s lips and flowed down Wojo’s shaft. Every time Avery suckled a few drops off his veiny manhood, Wojo grunted again and his spine shimmied. He moved a lot because he thought it helped him avoid making noise — it didn’t really, it just felt quieter in Wojo’s mind because he was focused on his body instead.
Salty precum coated Avery’s tongue. He played with it, smearing it over his face and making a big mess with it, so when Wojo finally glanced down he beamed giddily and opened his eyes wide. “Shit, you love that nut, huh?” He chuckled dryly.
“I do… I love it so much…” Avery giggled every time he saw Wojo’s body trembling with desire and arousal. He was so horny Avery was pretty sure he could have brought him to orgasm with just seductive dirty-talk. Every time Avery moaned or begged for more, Wojo’s whole body shook. “Can I lick your balls, please? Please? Please?” Avery teased him by begging as Wojo frantically nodded yes.
“Do it, do it!”
Avery moved down to slurp on his balls, again making him shake. His dick throbbed and precum flowed like water from a hose. He gargled loudly on the precum that had coated his hairy sac, giggling and making Wojo scowl. “Shush!” Wojo scolded him even though Wojo was much louder than Avery was, and since Wojo had a deep baritone voice, it carried much more and echoed more resonantly in the showering area.
Avery backed up betweens Wojo’s legs, licking all the way, his tongue slathering spit over Wojo’s muscled thighs and slurping on his balls the whole way. He kept going, licking a trail to Wojo’s ass
By this point, clean water had rinsed away all of the sweat but there was still just enough funk to keep the flavor spicy enough for Avery. He plunged into Wojo’s hairy crack and slurped a trail up to his back. He was pinned behind and beneath Wojo’s massive body.
“Goddamn, boy, you really get in there! Not a single one of the whores’ll do that, I can barely get ‘em to touch me at all,” he said. “They say I’m too hairy and rough.” As if to prove the point, he belched, which made his whole hairy torso shake beneath Avery’s body. He laughed.
“What’re you laughing at, Wojo? Ya nasty-ass balls?”
Wojo hadn’t noticed Cowlick Squad coming in to shower. He had forgotten Cowlick Squad had a showering time now They had no reason to go past this shower stall, so he thought he was still safe. It was hard to be sure though. He wanted to be quick and get this over with, but he couldn’t tell Avery that now that more people were here. Besides that, his mind wanted to finish up quickly, but his cock wanted to bang for hours.
“He’s goin’ space-crazy-“
“He’s goin’ girl-crazy, ever since Lysette wouldn’t fuck him because his chest was too hairy-“
Wojo roared in anger. “Fuck you! I get ingrown hairs, okay? I’m not even allowed to shave my chest cuz they don’t wanna have to give me antibiotics-” He bit his lip because they were all just laughing at him, not listening.
Wojo’s whole body shook around Avery’s delicate fingers stroking his thighs and his ass. He reached up to rub his lower back too, which meant his hands were technically visible — just the fingertips, and with the shower room filling with steam, there wasn’t much risk — to the other space marines that swaggered through. They slapped each other’s asses and made jokes about dropping soap in the tiny showers they shared with each other.
“Get ya dick off my ass, boy!”
“Quit tryin’ to back ya ass up onto my cock!” A fight broke out in one of the other stalls. Two hairy men grappled naked with each other, exchanging punches and making the back-wall, which connected all the shower stalls, shake.
The noise of that fight drowned out the sound of Wojo trying not to cum right now. He didn’t want to cum before he got to ram Avery in the ass, and anyway, he didn’t want to get caught. He rumbled and rubbed his ass over Avery’s face. He couldn’t believe how good it felt to have someone’s tongue in his ass. He’d thought it would tickle or maybe barely feel like anything at all, but instead the most intense pleasure of his life wracked his body.
All he could do was stand there in the shower spray and hope he didn’t look weird as his whole body struggled to remain still, pleasure coursing through his veins. Avery slurped at his ass and covered it with spit.
The Cowlick Squad only used the first couple shower stalls. Surprisingly enough, they shared showers — that was another tradition among the Space Marine Corps, even though there were plenty of stalls open, they were supposed to share with their immediate squadmates as a sign of brotherhood and intimacy. Don;’t bend over in the shower — that was a “motto” of sorts of Wojo’s class of cadets, just eighteen year-olds who had never showered with other men before. The first time Wojo accidentally touched another man’s dick, he had gasped, and that other older man, a long-time drill sergeant, had laughed and called him a pansy. To prove it, right there in the crowded locker room — that hadn’t been this ship’s relatively spacious accommodations, that had been the boot camp’s cheap shared showering area — Wojo’s drill sergeant had bent over and taken one of his fellow officer’s dicks in his mouth. It was just for a moment, a chaste, dry thing, not even sexy, just to demonstrate that he could do it and not be embarrassed.
That had been the older generation though.
The shower room filled with steam as Avery moved his tongue back to Wojo’s dick, trying several times to touch his mountainous pecs. Each time Wojo swatted his hands away so they wouldn’t be seen. Wojo licked his lips. He realized he couldn’t wait for the other guys to leave because it would be obvious he was still in the shower; he’d have to cum right now.
So Wojo grabbed Avery by the shoulders, and tried to get him to change positions — so he could ram him in the ass — without saying anything or moving his head or shoulders.
“Hey, Wojo, did you see the orders about Garlaxon 9?”
“Yeah,” Wojo said. He bit his lip. He couldn’t concentrate as he tried to get Avery to move. His hand shook as he poured shampoo onto his palm. He washed his hair yet again.
Finally Avery realized what he wanted. He had to rather awkwardly bend over in the shower so he couldn’t be seen above the little half-wall. He gripped the slippery linoleum and jutted his ass up to meet Wojo’s crotch.
Getting rammed by big men was always awkward, even when they were experienced at it. Wojo was not, and he was stuck in a small space trying not to move anything above the shoulder. So that made it extra difficult for Avery, who had to handle all the movement, forcing himself onto Wojo’s cock.
He struggled, his ass straining to accept every inch of Wojo’s throbbing manhood. He practiced deep breathing as pain and pleasure enveloped him in equal amounts.
Avery grunted, but Wojo shushed him. Wojo shuddered too, barely managing to keep his head still, as a bolt of pleasure shot through his body. His dick slipped deeper into Avery’s ass.
“Wojo! Hey, Wojo! Wojo, man! Yo! Hey!” one of the other space marines shouted from another shower. He was very tall, so the half-wall barely extended past his hairy navel, and his pubic hair was plainly visible despite the wall. He had been yelling for Wojo for some time. Finally Wojo looked at him, steam filling the air between them, which concealed Wojo’s rolling eyes. The other space marine frowned. “What do you think of the Garlaxon rules of engagement?”
“Fine.” Wojo took a deep breath. “I mean… it sucks. It’s… it… Uh…” He felt his orgasm approaching, and even though people were looking at him right now, he couldn’t slow it down.
“Yeah, we gotta get permission from our squad leader just to go in a village-“
“We don’t even need a translator, it’s fucking ridiculous!”
“They said we can’t smoke anywhere on the planet either-“
“And we’re the ones saving them from the Beta-Rezzedians!”
“Uh-huh.” Wojo tried to sound like he was involved in the conversation even though he wasn’t paying any attention. He gripped Avery’s hips and drilled his dick in deeper and deeper.
Avery’s own orgasm began, heightened by the anxiety of the situation. He didn’t want to be responsible for getting Wojo in trouble or embarrassing him, but it was obvious Wojo was about to get caught no matter what, and it was even more obvious that Wojo didn’t want to stop.
Wojo didn’t notice himself slowly losing control or making it obvious he was doing something secretive. He pounded away, and leaned his head back. He let out a moan, which wasn’t loud enough to be heard over the shower water, but the nearest couple of space marines could see him moving.
“What are you doing, Wojo?”
“Are you beating your meat?”
They rushed forward to see — masturbating in the ship shower was a Fairlight Tulip, which was yellow, and was a tattoo that almost all of them proudly had over their heart (Wojo was an exception because he had always been relatively discrete). They laughed and cheered. Even though nearly every one of them had been “caught” previously, they still loved doing it and carrying a compatriot’s naked body to the tattoist.
Wojo realized he was about to be caught. That was going to be annoying, but he wasn’t going to blue-ball himself — there was nothing to be done about it now.
So he plowed deeply into Avery, slamming into him and even hitting him against the wall of the shower. The other marines were quiet for a moment, trying to figure out who he was, then they began to laugh.
“Ah, fuck! Wojo’s a booty bandit’!”
“He gonna get a pink tulip!”
The others laughed and tried to think of any other tulips that might apply to the situation.
Wojo blushed, but he was beyond trying to stop it right now. He was just glad he didn’t have to subdue himself; he could plow back and forth with all his might and with all the passion that flowed through him. He rammed his dick all the way into Avery and held on as his orgasm overwhelmed him. Avery came too, and his ass clenched on Wojo’s dick.
Thick, creamy cum coated Avery’s ass and dripped down to his legs. It filled him up, great jet after jet of warmth seeping into his flesh and flowing through every corner of his body. Avery shot his own wad onto the shower floor.
Avery moaned, but the sound was weak and thready compared to Wojo’s baritone roar — he figured that the least he could do at this point was sound like a real hardcore alpha when he came. The other space marines cheered and clapped, though they teased him at the same time.
“Oh shit, Wojo’s gone to the pink side!”
“What would Commander Darius say?”
One of them imitated Commander Darius’ stuffed-shirt voice. “Now see here, Mr. Wojohowitz, you represent the Space Marine Corps out there-” They howled with laughter. “And you had better have the common courtesy to give that man a reacharound.”
“Of course!” Wojo said, his voice breaking. He pounded on his chest with one fist, while his other hand reached around. He gulped — he never thought he’d be touching another man’s cock, but he knew this would be funny — and touched Avery’s dick. He gagged at the feel of snotty cum on his fingers, since Avery was mid-orgasm at the moment.
“Goddamn…” Avery’s whole body bucked. He was breathless and exhausted, his whole face turning ruddy.
Wojo’s squadmates laughed so hard they fell over each other’s naked, soaped up bodies. Wojo kept ramming though, and he even touched Avery’s dick again. It spasmed in his touch.
Avery could do little more than twist and writhe. Wojo’s dick was right on his prostate, and Avery’s orgasm continued at full intensity until he at least slid off Wojo and landed in the pool of shower water on the ground.
Wojo stood there, making sure his laughing compatriots could see that he wasn’t embarrassed — and that he had a huge cock, he always made sure they could see that. Of course, he was embarrassed, but he thought he had hidden it pretty well.
He looked down at Avery. “Thanks,” he said.
“Sorry you got caught,” Avery said. He struggled onto his knees, kneeling next to Wojo so he could wrap his arms around his body and lean his face against his thigh.
Wojo shrugged. “Whatever. It was worth it. Are you gonna stick around?”
“No,” Avery said. He stood and stretched his legs. He kissed each of Wojo’s nipples. He would have kissed him on the neck too, but he couldn’t reach. Avery smiled. “It’s time for me to move on, I think.”

Boot Camp

Sgt. Powers is a no-nonsense drill sergeant who tolerates a bit of nonsense: horseplay! He doesn’t mind his cadets dipping into the down and dirty, especially if it means he gets to bend a soldier over and give him what-for!

Can he keep control over his squad of alpha male recruits?!

Read it now as an ebook!

Or read the whole thing here!

Drill Sergeant Powers stood behind the barracks, peering into the window. He stood on the air conditioner so he could see in the high window to the showering area in the back of the barracks. He smiled as he watched Cadet Willie Redman sit on Nathaniel Muckham’s face.
Two dozen of the heftiest, most athletic cadets in the Army were in those barracks, and Powers watched them shower. He could have gone in there, but then they would have stopped and he couldn’t watch any more. He liked to watch the hijinks.
Redman’s shower-glistening body was broadly muscled, and every one of those muscles seemed to be in use as he squatted over Muckham’s face. It wasn’t a rimjob, of course. Muckham had a bet, so he allowed Redman to sit on his face, as the others chanted and cheered. It was only for a moment. Had he farted on his face? Maybe, but Powers didn’t think so. He could hear them laughing as Muckham blushed and clawed at his own cheeks.
Then they all started dancing and Powers was confused — a sudden dance party? Was this a Japanese game show?
But then he heard a pounding techno beat. That seemed to be A Thing, which he didn’t understand because he was too old — every once in a while, this generation of cadets put on electronic music and they all danced like club kids. It wouldn’t have been strange if they actually enjoyed that kind of music, but not a single one of them actually chose to listen to it in any other context.
Powers didn’t understand the younger generations.
They danced together for about a minute, stopping only when someone slapped Cadet Haruto Amasuzi’s ass. It soon degenerated into a torrent of laughter and horseplay — they treated each other like strippers, slapping each other’s ass and jiggling their buttcheeks in front of each other’s faces.
Drill Sergeant Powers began masturbating. He was just inches from those plump asses — inches that included the wall of the showerhouse — and he could even taste the soapy shower water as it covered their taut skin.
These were not any random collection of Army recruits. They had been chosen to be on the US Army wrestling team. They were given a shared barrack and Powers was put in charge of their training, all because the Army was tired of losing to the Navy in wrestling.
It was Powers’s job to turn them into champion wrestlers, and hopefully soldiers as well.
Inside the barracks, the horseplay had turned into a game called Boner Loses. They didn’t invent it, it had been passed down from an earlier group of cadets. Drill Sergeant Powers had even played a very similar game back when he was a new recruit, which felt like it was eons ago. Powers was glad that Cadet Redman was going to play this game now, because he really hoped to watch Redman lose.
Willie Redman frantically tried to come up with way to get out of it, but he came up with nothing. Everyone expected him to do it, and Willie wasn’t willing to violate their expectations like that — they were his expectations too. That’s because Willie saw himself as more sexually experienced than anyone else here. He had had sex with nine girls, more than anyone else in his barracks. He had had sex with two women at once. He had had sex with an older woman.
So he thought he was well-suited to win Boner Loses. That was a game wherein the player (Willie) stood still while another player (usually someone who had lost a bet, in this case Haruto Amasuzi) had to put his dick in his mouth.
“Do it!”
“Oh, nasty, he’s really doing it!”
“You can lick it if you want, Haruto!”
Haruto just kneeled and winced and gagged before letting Willie’s limp dick flop onto his tongue. Haruto gagged again as he felt wiry pubic hair rub against his cheek and his tongue.
The object of the game was not to get hard. If Willie got an erection, he was required to lick Haruto’s dick. That was it, that was the whole game, just don’t get a boner. When the older cadets had first explained it to Willie, he thought it was beyond stupid. He thought no one would ever play that “game”.
But the others had done it. Willie didn’t want to be the only one who was too prudish to join in. So he never told anyone he disliked it, and he even pretended he was always trying to get others to play it (that was virtually part of the game: no one ever wanted to play it, but it was fun to cajole others into playing it).
Since he was not an undersexed hornball like these other soldiers, Willie thought he would be alright. He wasn’t going to get hard for no reason. So he was alarmed to feel Haruto’s mouth silkily encircle his dick as Willie’s whole body twitched. He couldn’t pull away or stop, he could do nothing but watch as his dick firmed up in Haruto’s mouth. He watched it happen in slow-motion, like some horrible scene in a terrifying movie.
“Ah, shit, Willie lost!”
“On your knees, boy!”
Willie sighed and blushed. He knew the best way to avoid being humiliated was to simply pretend it wasn’t a big deal, so that was what he did. He rolled his eyes and dropped to his knees. He was much taller than Haruto, so he had to stoop to reach his crotch.
This wasn’t the first time this game had degenerated into dome. Willie never thought it would be him that did it. He didn’t want to be a wuss who refused to follow through. No one still made fun of Martin, who had been the first to lose this game.
So he opened his mouth and swallowed Haruto’s dick, gagging again — Haruto had taken a dick in his mouth a few weeks ago when he was on the other side of this game. T
It seemed so silly, Martin thought as he closed his eyes. Haruto’s cock stiffened up, and it jabbed down his throat. The taste of salty, musty dickmeat flooded his senses. He tried to think about anything other than that taste and the jeers and laughter of the cadets surrounding him.
When he was in college in an ROTC program before joining the Army, Willie had been the most popular guy on campus. He was the most athletic man anyone knew. That was why he had been recruited for the Army wrestling team. He was a state champion wrestler back in Pennsylvania.
So it had been difficult for him to accept that he was no longer the top athlete around. He was one of many athletes, and the officers of the US Army were strict in an entirely different way than any of his coaches had ever been. He did not like that he wasn’t in charge of hazing like he had been in college. He was one of many men here, each of them equally “in charge” most of the time.
It had been difficult to accept. So Willie struggled with his pride as he licked his compatriot’s dick. At first he thought he could just get it over with, it wouldn’t be a big deal unless he made it a big deal — he used to get freshmen to lick his balls when he was working out, so he was all sweaty, so he’d be a hypocrite if he regarded it as beyond the pale for him to be hazed similarly. It was just difficult to accept.
Willie’s face turned red, and his wrestling-toned chest was ruddy, sticky with the spit that dripped from his square chin. He was surprised at how much saliva he produced — girls didn’t normally, unless he could encourage them to, but he wasn’t trying to do this. Somehow he made loud gurgling sounds which would have been embarrassing except that his barrackmates howled peals of laughter that drowned out the sound.
Outside, Drill Sergeant Powers masturbated furiously.
He fully intended to get into Cadet Willie Redman’s ass eventually, and he could stand here and watch those cheeks jiggle all night long. He inhaled deeply of the musky scent that emanated out of the barracks, which was enough to send him over the line into orgasm.
Cum sprayed onto the air conditioner he stood on, while Powers watched Willie swallow Amasuzi’s load. Cadet Haruto Amasuzi bellowed and barked and pounded on his chest, moaning more passionately than he probably needed to — he exaggerated to humiliate Willie more.
“He’s swallowin’ it!”
“How’s that cum taste, man?!”
Sour, salty cum sprayed into Willie’s mouth, coating his tongue in thick, sticky spooge. Willie gagged once again, though the most compelling fact he noticed was that cum didn’t really taste bad, or at least, not worse than vagina. He allowed that sticky fluid to flow down his throat.
As soon as Amasuzi let go of his head, Willie pulled off and winced. Everyone laughed and clasped him on the shoulder.
“Didja like that, Willie?”
Willie blushed. He stood up straight, making certain everyone could see that he held his head high. For a brief second, he thought he saw his drill sergeant’s face in the window, but then it was gone. Willie was glad. He’d have been humiliated if he knew Powers had seen him.
He was just glad the game was over. After that they showered and changed to go out on leave. This was the first night of leave they’d had in weeks, so Willie and all the others looked forward to it. Boot camp was almost over.
They headed out, all but two of the cadets: William Morton and Tommy Draper. Powers told the two of them to suit up for some wrestling practice. They dourly did so. Those two did not have leave because they were in the doghouse.
The practice proceeded quickly, as it wasn’t a real practice, Sergeant Powers simply wanted the cadets to begin with something easy. They were both good wrestlers. He had them scrimmages, and he cheered them both on.
“Go for it, Morton!” Powers clapped and barked. “You got it, Tommy!”
The scrimmage proceeded as he had thought. He knew Morton would lose. He simply wasn’t as good. He was stronger than Cadet Tommy Draper, but he was slower and not as smart or tactical. Of course Tommy won.
“Alright, alright, you two go shower up,” Powers said. He was glad the practice was finally over. He slapped them both on the ass through their sweat-soaked singlets, and he took the opportunity to savor both meaty asses.
Everyone but these two was out on leave. Powers had been forced to take away Draper’s and Morton’s leave because they failed this silly test about sexual assault and racial tolerance. It wasn’t even a real failure, they simply hadn’t taken it seriously. They thought it was more like a survey, and they just filled in the bubbles without reading the questions.
So Powers made them retake the test, and he made sure they took it seriously this time. He didn’t let them continue until they filled out all of the correct answers.
“Good job, boys,” he said when they were done. He had really only wanted Draper to practice — Morton was not likely to make weight in time for the tournament, and he wasn’t very good besides. Powers saw him as a backup. If one of the others was forced to leave the Army, Morton would be a real part of the team.
A big part of the problem was that Morton was so handsome and charming. He had no need to be good at anything because he got laid plenty — he had no need to change. Girls thought he was hot and didn’t care how good he actually was at wrestling. Morton smiled a lot and had plenty of friends, so he seemed only dimly aware of the fact that he simply wasn’t very good.
But Morton wasn’t smiling today, as he walked away towards the barracks alongside Tommy. He wished he had had his leave taken away with literally anyone besides Tommy. Morton felt nervous — he often got the feeling Drill Sergeant Powers watched his ass shake in those tiny green Army shorts. Today Powers had slapped his ass and held on for a few seconds, but even after that, Morton could feel someone staring at his ass. When he turned around, Powers was gone.
It was going to be a long night in for the both of them, made worse by the fact that Morton was gonna have to take it up the ass from his buddy Tommy. Morton had lost a bet.
“Gonna ram you in the a-a-a-sssssss…” Draper sang a little, laughing when he saw Morton blush. “Come on, let’s get it out of the way.”
“Fine.” Morton bit his lip.
During their last leave, they had both been horny. They spent the entire day talking about how horny they were and how much they were going to get laid. Then they made a bet — Morton always did so well with girls he assumed he would get laid. He promised he would, and he said that if he didn’t, he’d let Draper ram him in the ass. Draper made the same bet. Morton assumed Draper would fail and he would succeed, but the opposite had happened.
So now, this weekend, Morton had to give up the ass.
The barracks was empty, but it still stank of men and stale underwear. Morton wished they could do it somewhere else, but this was the only spot on the whole base where they could be sure Drill Sergeant Powers wasn’t around. That man somehow seemed to be everywhere, Morton thought.
Tommy Draper spat on his cock for lube. He was almost as nervous as Morton, but he hid it well. He laughed and slapped Morton’s ass, cheering when those cheeks rippled. It really was a nice ass, he thought, if only it was attached to a woman.
He slid his dick in, grimacing when he felt it enter Morton’s tight asshole. Morton grunted and immediately clenched.
Neither of them moved. “Damn it,” Morton said with a grunt. His face turned red as Draper began drilling his dick in farther and farther. “Ah, oh, shit…” Morton’s voice was weak and thready.
“Damn… Oh, shit…” Tommy said more or less the same word, but his had an entirely different tone. He was shocked at how good this felt. He had thought ramming a man in the ass would be worse than a girl, or at best maybe the same so long as he didn’t feel any hair or accidentally grab for where her tits would be. But it was actually far better.
He didn’t know if it was better because Morton was intact (presumably) or because he was simply better, or maybe because Tommy didn’t need to worry about making his bottom enjoy it. He didn’t need to make Morton feel good, so he could focus on slamming away at that tight wrestler ass.
Morton kept squirming, and he clawed at the bunk beneath him. The most embarrassing part, he thought, was that it wasn’t entirely painful — he felt pleasure too. It happened very slowly, growing with every thrust of Tommy’s cock inside him.
Vague and distant at first, overpowered by the pain, Morton’s prostate orgasm grew more potent over time. Soon he was moaning and grunting with bliss, not agony, though he avoided making that obvious so Tommy wouldn’t know. The one way, he thought, that would ensure he was teased for this forever was to enjoy it.
But he had to admit there was a certain amount of pleasure that came with it. He moaned and bucked and writhed beneath Tommy’s body.
Just like the pleasure in Morton’s ass, Tommy’s own passion had grown slowly over time. At first he tried to avoid touching Morton any more than absolutely necessary. But the more excited he got by this, the more he pounded away, and the more he actually touched Morton.
Soon, Tommy’s hands gripped his back, trying to pretend his muscled shoulders were a female’s. Tommy closed his eyes. He lowered his chest until he pressed down on Morton’s body, ramming him wildly, grunting and moaning into his ear.
“Oh, fuck…” Morton moaned, and the tremulous note to his voice made it clear he was enjoying himself.
Only Powers was able to detect that though. Tommy was too engrossed in his powerful plowing. Powers shot his wad onto the outside wall of the barracks, just as he caught his first whiff of cum from the soldiers.
Morton did shoot his own load onto the bunk beneath him, but he managed to avoid being obvious about it, so Tommy didn’t notice that either. Tommy slammed into Morton until his balls crawled up in his sac, and he shot a thick load that coated Morton’s insides.
“Ah, shit yeah, take it, man!” Tommy closed his eyes and moaned. He sprayed the biggest wad of his life, and it spread within Morton. Tommy loved cumming inside girls, and he was surprised to see that he loved cumming inside boys just as much. He could have stayed like that forever, feeling victorious once again and dominating Morton’s powerful body.
At last he was done. Tommy pulled out, slapped Morton’s ass once and laughed as he squirmed. Morton groaned loudly.
“Shit,” Morton said. He breathed heavily. He hoped Willie didn’t notice that he had cum too. “That hurt.”
Tommy snorted like a cocky bastard. “Of course it hurt.” He grabbed his dick. “That’s cuz I got huge meat.” He paused. “It ain’t feel good too, did it?”
Morton blushed and protested a little too vociferously. “No! No, man, that was terrible. The worst. I ain’t enjoy that at all.”
They both headed back to the barracks then. Drill Sergeant Powers had disappeared at some point. Morton didn’t notice where he went. But as he passed by his office, he saw him in his office, with a cadet named Wojohowitz, who looked like he was in trouble. Morton hurried pst.
Cadet Wojohowitz was the best wrestler in the unit, so Powers didn’t want to kick him out. As he stood there, watching Wojohowitz’s nearly-naked body take the news, Powers’s heart broke.
Wojohowitz was young and thick-bodied, a star heavyweight wrestler. He was honestly not the best soldier, just the best wrestler, but as far as Powers’s superiors were concerned, wrestling was more important anyway.
Wojohowitz quiveringly said it was his girl, that she had smoked a joint and he hadn’t taken a hit but he had inhaled some. Powers believed him, but he didn’t have any control over this rule: A failed drug test means the soldier must go.
“Sir, I swear, I didn’t smoke any of it. I don’t have a drug problem, sir.”
Powers flared his nostrils. “Don’t beg, cadet. You’ll be okay-“
“I — I’ve been looking forward to the Army for so long.” He stood there in his boxers, his muscles rippling. “Uh… Sir… My dad said, uh… back when he was in the Army… he said that, like, if you was really regretful ‘bout something, like… your drill sergeant was, y’know… you could get a second chance if you was willing to… like… y’know-“
“Cadet, what in the bloody hell are you talking about?”
“My dad said… you could ram… you know, that I could give up the ass, and you’d, y’know, see that as a sign that I’m in the for the long haul, that I’m willing to do what it takes to stay,” Wojohowitz said. “I swear, I won’t let girls smoke weed around me. I won’t even go to any concerts. I promise.”
“You’ll give up the booty if I give you a second chance?”
Wojohowitz nodded.
Powers pretended to think about it. He had been waiting for an opportunity to get in Cadet Wojohowitz’s plump ass. It was going to be so tight Powers was already drooling. But Powers pretended to be reluctant. “I don’t know, cadet… Look… In my day, a man could ram another man in the ass as long as he had the common courtesy of giving a reacharound,” he said. He sighed grandly; he hoped he didn’t sound too eager. “So bend over, cadet.”
“Sir, yes, sir,” Wojohowitz said. His voice broke a little as he knelt over his own bunk, sticking his ass in the air. He thought he could do this. No one would ever know, he thought, since he was pretty sure Sergeant Powers wouldn’t tell anyone.
Powers sighed. He had been waiting to get in this ass for a long time. Wojohowitz’s ass was so thick and juicy he couldn’t resist. Powers had a plan to make the drug test go away. He could claim to his superiors that the lab had suggested it might be a false positive. That could happen — they had said that with a result two months ago, they said they needed another sample to be sure because this one was weakly positive (the second sample turned out to be negative). He could put off the replacement drug test for a month to make sure Wojohowitz could clean himself up, or maybe Powers could just supply his own piss instead.
Regardless, he could do it. It was worth it to get in that tight ass. He moaned as his cock slid in, and Wojohowitz’s muscles all twitched. He had that cocky alpha strut, which Powers loved to ram out of a soldier. He smiled when he saw Wojohowitz’s toes curl — Powers knew what that meant: pleasure. Somewhere deep within Wojohowitz, his prostate was coming alive and making him feel such pleasure he couldn’t even acknowledge it yet.
Powers slammed the rest of his cock in, sliding his coarsely-furred forearm in front of Wojohowitz’s mouth. Wojohowitz bucked and grunted — he would have shouted but the sensations inside him were too intense.
“You can bite down on my arm,” Powers said. His left arm was in place for Wojohowitz to bite on — which he did, biting hard enough to make Powers’s arm cry out in pain; he didn’t stop though because Powers always liked feeling just a little pain while he rammed. It made it better.
“Sir, yes, sir,” Wojohowitz said. He was surprised at how much it helped to bite down. It was a good distraction from the pain. He gnawed on the firm muscle of his sergeant’s arm.
And then Wojohowitz realized the pain was going away anyway. That’s because Sergeant Powers reached out and grabbed Wojohowitz’s dick. He stroked it, gently and slowly at first. Wojohowitz moaned and found himself licking the salty-sweat off his drill sergeant’s forearm.
He blushed, not that anyone could see it. Wojohowitz was shocked and humiliated at how easily he got hard with a dick in his ass. It felt impossibly big. He wondered how big it really was. Was Sergeant Powers’s cock bigger than his?
But he couldn’t have asked right now even if he was willing to, because the feelings that rocked his body were too intense. Sergeant Powers’s muscled, hairy chest pressed down on Redman’s smooth back. Wojohowitz grimaced a little, as he wasn’t used to feeling a man’s chest muscles rippling over his skin. Sergeant Powers had that distinct “old man texture”, he thought, not wrinkled but well-worn, his skin coarse in parts, his chest hairy and stinky with sweat.
But even despite all that, Wojohowitz had never been more aroused. He gasped and groaned, rubbing his face against Drill Sergeant’s forearm. He bit down hard enough to taste blood.
Powers didn’t notice that. He was singularly focused on his cock, which rammed into Wojohowitz’s intact ass and stayed there as he came. His balls crawled up in his sac and he filled Wojohowitz with his creamy seed.
“You ready, son?”
“Sir, yes, yes,” Wojohowitz said, his normally confident voice now weak and wavery. He wasn’t scared though, because he trusted his drill sergeant implicitly. He knew this would all be okay. When it was over, he’d be able to pretend that he hadn’t been rammed by a man and, even more importantly, that he hadn’t liked it.
He shot his own load onto the floor beneath himself, coating Powers’s hand as his reacharound continued. Despite it being just a handjob and despite the limpening cock in his own ass, Wojohowitz experienced the most mind-blowing orgasm of his life.
He writhed beneath his drill sergeant’s firm embrace, and his asshole squeezed around his dick. Both men grunted, their mouths so close together they nearly kissed. Pleasure coursed through both men’s veins.
But then it was over. Drill Sergeant Powers stood, and they both sighed together when his dick finally plopped out. Cadet Wojohowitz twitched.
“At attention, cadet.”
Wojohowitz’s knees were weak, and his cheeks were red. But he managed to stand on uncertain legs. His cock dangled, still dripping cum onto the floor. Sergeant Powers grabbed it and squeezed.
“Good work, cadet,” he said. “You’ve proven your dedication to the Army.”
“Sir, yes, sir!” Cadet Wojohowitz had never responded with such confidence and swagger. He didn’t know why, he just suddenly felt better than he had in a long time, even if his ass was still sore. “I’m glad I don’t have to leave the service, sir. I want to serve the Army for as long as I can.”
Powers stood up, dick dangling and dripping fluids onto the barrack floor. “Son, you’ll be able to serve the Army for life.” He walked away with a proud grin on his face.

Coachly Bonding

When wrestler Josh Chadwin has to shower with his college coach, he knew things would get awkward, but he didn’t know how enjoyable it could be! That’s cuz Josh is in for a wild ride of truck stop action, jock manhood and coachly bonding!

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Or read the whole thing right here!

Kyle Chadwin told himself he was being silly. Coach Walker wasn’t going to do anything to him. Chadwin was being punished, but it wasn’t like a real punishment; this wasn’t prison.
As he walked to that truck stop shower, it felt like prison though.
Chadwin was a college wrestler. He was one of the best athletes on the team, maybe the best, or at least the most consistent at meets, and everyone knew it. He was raised to be proud and confident and to make certain everyone knew that he could hold his own. He should show leadership. He needed to make certain the younger wrestlers understood his authority. He wasn’t the team captain, but if he got past this punishment and did well, he might be team captain next year.
Anyway, Chadwin had been trying to show leadership to the freshmen when some hazing got out of control. The end result was that Chadwin made one freshman wrestler run around the campus in his jockstrap. It wasn’t even really hazing, Chadwin thought, because the freshman was only doing it to be invited to an upperclassman party. But since the jockstrap exposed the freshman’s bare ass, it was treated as a “flashing incident” by the dean — women could have seen it, if there were any on campus at the time, which there weren’t, making the whole thing stupid, Chadwin thought. But he had been suspended for three weeks anyway. That suspension was up tomorrow, which was just in time for the state tournament. The dean even raced to institute the suspension so it would be over with in time for him to compete in the tournament.
But Chadwin had had no way of getting to the tournament aside from the team bus, which he was prohibited from riding in because he was still under suspension. The rest of the team had gone today and were spending tonight in a motel.
That was why Chadwin had had no choice but to ride in Coach Walker’s car.
They had to spend one night here in a Ramwide Truck Stop along the highway. Chadwin thought that was insane — he hadn’t asked beforehand, but he assumed they were going to sleep in a motel, separate from the team because the athletic department couldn’t pay for accommodations for him while his suspension was still on. He had assumed him and Coach Walker each have a room to themselves.
Now that assumption made him feel spoiled. Coach Walker said he couldn’t afford even one motel room. Chadwin could have asked his parents to pay. They probably would. But now he’d sound bratty if he said so, and it was too late anyway. The sun was going down.
“Does the truck stop have… beds?” Chadwin asked. He didn’t know if that was a foolish question or not. Semis have little bedrooms behind the truck cab, don’t they? But anyway, surely not all of them did, so maybe the truck stop did have rooms to rent overnight?
“No. But I don’t got the cash for a motel room, and the next one isn’t for miles anyway. All my money goes to my bitch ex-wife,” Coach Walker said with a dry chuckle, as his use of a curse word made Chadwin bristle and straighten his back. He patted Chadwin on the back. “Don’t worry, we’ll be fine. We’ll sleep in the car. I’ve done it before. My car’s real comfortable. My current wife makes me sleep out there at least once a month.”
Chadwin felt a sense of dread but agreed. He didn’t have any choice anyway — he wasn’t about to miss the state tournament for any reason.
But now they were at a Ramwide — that was a chain of truck stops known throughout the country — and Coach Walker told Chadwin to come take a shower with him. Chadwin had a much better body than Coach Walker, but he didn’t feel like it as they undressed together. Coach Walker snorted and sniffled, making noise every step of the way. He seemed ancient, though he was only middle-aged, and his darkly tanned skin was marked with scars and a few faded tattoos. He didn’t have a perfect six-pack, but he looked like he probably did back in the day.
Chadwin, on the other hand, was ropy-muscled and solidly built, but without all the heft of Coach Walker’s body. Chadwin was light-skinned and six-packed, with deep dimples and not a single scar, tattoo or mark anywhere on his mostly hairless body. Chadwin thought he shouldn’t be intimidated by the older man. If anyone saw them together, they’d say Chadwin was in better shape. He had a six-pack and plenty of muscles. Girls came running. Not that Chadwin was a pervert. He was ROTC, he was ready for the Army, or maybe the Marines, he hadn’t decided.
So he shouldn’t be nervous about showering with Coach Walker. He showered with his teammates and his ROTCmates. That was always awkward at first and even later. But they played around, snapped towels at each other’s asses, tried to fart on each other, competed to piss the furthest distance in the shower, talked about girls — horseplay, basically.
Can’t do horseplay with a grandfather. Coach Walker might not have been a grandfather, Chadwin had no idea. But he was old enough he could be, which was weird enough.
One of the Chadwin’s squadmates in the ROTC was a couple years older, and he was already out of boot camp. He said his drill sergeant came in and showered with his barrack cuz they kept getting in trouble for playing around, making a mess, squirting dandruff shampoo on each other and wasting time. He said his drill sergeant had a fat old wrinkly dick that was hard not to stare out, but they’d get shouted at for being pansies if they got caught looking at it.
Which was hilarious, but now that he was changing with Coach Walker in the truck stop bathroom, Chadwin also found himself unable to look away. It was big but not freakishly huge, and Chadwin suspected Coach Walker was a show-er, not a grower. Chadwin was the opposite. His cock was nothing to sneeze at, but it wasn’t impressive until it firmed up.
He gulped. Chadwin was stripped to his underwear, hesitating as Coach Walker got his socks off and then rubbed his feet with like a brush or something. Was that something old men did? Chadwin didn’t want to ask.
The other old man in the shower, some mangy redneck with a mustache, he came out into the changing area then. He too was naked and had a wrinkly old-man cock, though he was only maybe thirty. Looked like a hard thirty though.
“You fellers truckin’?” asked the mustachioed man. He stood there with his dingy tight-whites in one hand, scratching his balls and playing with his wet dick like he was trying to make it dry off quickly.
A disquieting sensation roiled Chadwin. He opened his eyes wide.
“Nossuh,” Coach Walker said. He sat down on the bench next to Chadwin, spreading his legs wide to let his cock and balls graze in the air. “We’s on the way to Richmond, for a wrestling tournament. Triple-A. This is Josh, he’s the wrestler. I’m a coach, obviously.”
The man nodded. “Cool, cool, wrestlin’ is a real man sport, I do declare,” he said. He stepped into his ratty tight-whites. “Not like gymnastics.” He sneered. “Or golf.”
They both chuckled, and Chadwin forced himself to do likewise. “Yeah, golf…” he muttered. Possibly neither of them noticed he said anything.
“Hmm-hmmm,” Coach Walker murmured, and he wrapped one arm around Chadwin’s well-muscled side. They both sat there — Chadwin still in his underpants — as the mustachioed man dressed and headed out the door. He did seem to notice that Coach Walker and Chadwin were just sitting there, not showering or anything, but he didn’t ask why. Maybe that was normal at Ramwide Truck Stop. “You okay, Josh?”
“Yes, yes, sir,” Chadwin said, as confidently as he could muster. Coach Walker’s hand stayed wrapped around his waist, gripping his ribcage firmly, as though the check how much fat there was there. None. Chadwin was aiming for a low weight class, that was why.
“I’ve been following that meal plan!” Chadwin blurted out. “And doin’ the sauna like you said.”
“Good, good.” Coach Walker stood up. His manhood dangled in front of Chadwin’s face, and Chadwin could smell the rank sweat of his ballsac. Or maybe that was just him. Chadwin wrinkled his nose. Coach Walker twirled his cock and thwacked it against one palm, then the other. “C’mon, let’s get our shower over with.”
Chadwin forced himself not to look at Coach Walker’s cock. Chadwin tried to tell himself it was okay, and it wasn’t bigger than his. That was true, it wasn’t, or at least it was maybe only barely right now, but when they were both hard — not that they were gonna both get hard, that would be ridiculous — but when they were both hard, they’d be the same size, Chadwin was sure.
Was Coach Walker getting a boner? As Chadwin finally dropped his underwear, he thought he detected a sliver of firmness in Coach Walker’s cockshaft.
He assumed that they’d go immediately into the shower, but instead Coach Walker grabbed Chadwin’s dick with one hand. He held it tight, almost tight enough to hurt. Chadwin sucked in his breath, then didn’t exhale.
Coach Walker’s other hand gripped Chadwin’s shoulder, then ran down his arm and to his chest. “Flex your biceps,” he said.
Chadwin did so. He cock throbbed in Coach Walker’s rough hand. Coach Walker rubbed his free hand all over Chadwin’s biceps and triceps, and he tweaked each pec until they twitched and rippled. Then — much to Chadwin’s growing wide-eyed horror — Coach Walker leaned in to take a deep long sniff of Chadwin’s armpit.
His nose got right in the hair too. It wasn’t a little sniff, it was a full-throttle snort, like he was hoping to inhale Chadwin’s sweat. Then he straightened up.
“Why you nervous, Josh?” Coach Walker asked. He placed his hand back on Chadwin’s dick, holding onto it like a handle. He normally called him ‘Chadwin’ even when most others called him ‘Josh’. Now that they were alone at the motel, he was calling him ‘Josh’. It sounded weird coming out of his old-man mouth.
“I’m not!” Chadwin blushed. He knew he sounded defensive. No one else was in the shower, so he really shouldn’t feel nervous. Only a pansy was nervous to be naked around men. A man. One man. One old man with big droopy balls.
“Big handsome boy like you, I know you get girls all the time!” He laughed. His other hand dropped to Chadwin’s ass, while his right hand stayed tightly wrapped around Chadwin’s cock.
Chadwin blushed. He was embarrassed though he didn’t know why. Coach Marshall — the head of the athletic department at GHU — had walked in on Chadwin plowing a nursing student in the girl’s locker room one morning. Chadwin had gotten in big trouble for that. The rest of the coaching staff kept saying that Chadwin was a real casanova and a pervert because of it, though Chadwin didn’t really think of it like that.
She was his steady girlfriend, after all. Not a one-night stand. They broke up last month, but it was a serious relationship. They were both Christian. They were talking about getting married. It was close enough to marital to be acceptable in Chadwin’s eyes.
“Hmmm… I know the girls love you and those dimples…”
“Yeah,” Chadwin said. He bit his lip. “I mean, yeah, yes, sir, Coach Walker.”
“Relax, relax, boy,” he said with a laugh. Both hands rested on Chadwin’s ass now, caressing his plump cheeks, which Chadwin was surprised to find he enjoyed. It was ticklish and awkward but pleasant. “Take a deep breath. We’s on a road trip now. I know you’re still young, you dunno what that means. On a road trip, y’know… when you’s away from home, Joshie-“
Chadwin grunted because Coach Walker was closer to him now, virtually hugging him and speaking directly in his ear. That meant his soft cock pressed limply against Chadwin’s thigh. Chadwin really hated it when anyone called him Joshie — that’s what his parents called him, and he didn’t even like it then.
“Nothing counts on a road trip, son,” Coach Walker said. “What happens here, it didn’t happen. Got it?”
“Uh, sir?”
“That means you can say what you want. You can do whatever feels right,” he said. He grabbed Chadwin’s cock with one hand. “You can smoke that weed I know you got in your duffel bag.” He chuckled, his hot breath condensing on Chadwin’s face. “As long as you share.”
“Oh…” Chadwin’s blood ran cold. Did it smell? He thought it might smell, but he double-wrapped it, then put it in a sealed container. It didn’t seem to smell.
“Have you ever thought about kissing a man, son?”
“No.” Chadwin’s voice trembled.
“I find that difficult to believe,” he said.
“I mean… I’ve thought about it. I would try it, uh, you know… if I knew anyone who…”
Coach Walker planted his lips on Chadwin’s. Chadwin quivered. It was a quick, chaste kiss. “You can go wait for me in the car, son. Or you can stay here and get dirty all over again.”
“Um… Okay.” Chadwin wanted to leave. He was glad to have that option.
But he didn’t.
No matter how much his mind told himself to walk away, he didn’t; he didn’t want to; he craved finding out what would happen next and how it would make him feel. His dick was already twitching and he was thinking about how much he needed a stiffy — he’d been single for a month, and his balls were aching. He wasn’t sure what was happening. A part of him still thought that maybe Coach Walker was just messing with him.
But nevertheless, Chadwin’s body apparently found it to get hard. His cock tingled and thrummed. He desperately wanted to blow his wad. He couldn’t think about anything else but Coach Walker’s hand encircling his cock. He wasn’t stroking it, just holding on for now.
“I’m glad you stayed, son. A lotta college boys is too scared to shower with me.” He flopped his dick between his fingers and hit Chadwin’s cock with it. Chadwin had a big slab of meat when it was hard — not as big as Coach Walker’s — but he felt small right now. “You scared this is gonna feel so good you forget about girls, huh?”
“Uh-“
“That won’t happen.” He smiled. “You wanna jack me off?”
“Uh, no…”
He frowned. “Fine. You don’t got to. You wanna taste my dick?”
“Uh, no…”
“You want me to ram you in the ass?”
“No!”
He laughed like he knew what the answer to that last one would be, he was just messing with Chadwin. He chuckled and shrugged. “Fine,” he said. “Remember, once we leave this truck stop, none of this happened.”
“Yeah.” Chadwin’s voice was weak and wavering. “Yes, sir.”
Then, without another word of warning, Coach Walker dropped to his knees and popped Chadwin’s cock in his mouth. He smiled and looked up at Chadwin, who gasped.
A shiver of pleasure ran up and down Chadwin’s spine. He groaned and grunted. Coach Walker’s mouth was warm and moist, and it sent tingles of intense sensations to wrack Chadwin’s body. Coach Walker ran his tongue up and down the shaft, making eye contact with Chadwin, who stood on his toes and held his breath.
“That feel good?”
Chadwin nodded. He didn’t know why, since it was awkward for him, not pleasurable. He had never been with a man at all. He had never even let a man touch his dick outside of some wrestling team horseplay — and once he stuck his cock in a gloryhole to let a woman suck him off, but another wrestler on his team Wesley said afterwards that it was a man in there. His cock throbbed, sending waves of pleasure through his body. Chadwin gasped.
It felt good, in a way. Chadwin’s mind reeled as Coach Walker started really slurping on it, slathering spit up and down his shaft, using his mouth and both hands on it. Chadwin wondered if he was even going to be able to get hard. It felt like a blowjob from a girl, he thought, but somehow more distant, less real.
That lasted only until he managed to take a deep breath and relax a little though. When his eyes were closed, he could almost forget he was with a man. The longer this lasted, the more he felt pleasure instead of awkwardity.
Finally his dick was hard. He hadn’t even felt it stiffen up, but it was as hard as steel now. Coach Walker was a hefty man who could swallow the whole thing, nuzzling Chadwin deep until his nose was nestled in his kinky pubic hairs. He had a cavernous mouth. He was big enough that he had to stoop over to take Chadwin in his throat.
This wasn’t the first time Coach Walker had gotten a taste of one of his wrestlers.
He had been able to tell that Chadwin would be willing from just a few days after the season began — he had discovered one easy way to tell which jocks would be willing and which wouldn’t: they fucked ugly girls, or at least fat girls. Chadwin was a handsome, popular, dimpled young man with a nice body; he could have, and did, get laid nearly every weekend, Coach Walker was pretty sure, and his locker room banter had made it clear he didn’t mind fucking large girls, ugly or unpopular girls, or girls he simply didn’t like.
Coach Walker had long determined that those athletes who fucked girls despite their appearance would also be willing to be jerked off by a man, even if they didn’t know it yet. He savored the clean, salty flavor of the precum flowing from Chadwin’s cocktip.
Or maybe Chadwin wasn’t like that, he’d often said he was Christian. Maybe he was just pretending in that locker-room talk. It wasn’t cool to be prudish nowadays.
He looked up at Chadwin and smiled around the cock in his throat.
Chadwin’s eyes were closed — scrunched shut tightly — and his face was tense. Chadwin twisted and writhed, hands flailing because he had briefly touched Coach Walker’s head only to be reminded he wasn’t with a woman. Coach Walker’s bald head (shaved, but you could tell he was naturally balding) felt distinctly masculine beneath Chadwin’s fingertips. So his hands hovered in the air instead.
As he felt Chadwin’s orgasm rising, Coach Walker tried to make him grab his head. He didn’t say anything because he knew his deep, gravelly voice would make Chadwin uncomfortable again. But he guided Chadwin’s hand to his scalp. Chadwin gripped him for only a moment, rammed his throat like a tender womanhood and he was a rampaging viking, until his cock filled up Coach Walker’s neck and throbbed in his throat.
Walker sputtered and gagged despite himself, letting out a moan in his baritone voice. His beard hairs scratched at the base of Chadwin’s dick, again reminding him he was with a man. He let go of his coach’s head, opening his eyes again just in time to meet his coach’s gaze.
Chadwin gasped, unable to look away or close his eyes as an orgasm coursed through his veins. He blushed intensely and cried out. Coach Walker grabbed Chadwin’s ass to make him throat him that way, using his gullet like a pussy, and he got that entire pulsating dick back in his throat just seconds before Chadwin filled him up.
Creamy hot cum sprayed down Coach Walker’s throat, coating him in his sticky juices. He could feel it trickling through his flesh and spreading through his veins. Coach Walker moaned as he shot his own wad on the floor. Chadwin didn’t notice that.
That’s cuz Chadwin’s young-man orgasm was intense and lasted a whole minute or two, maybe three. He lost his inhibitions and, in that moment, he really plowed Coach Walker’s mouth. His balls slapped over and over on his chin.
And still more jizz spurted out. It coated every inch of Coach Walker’s mouth and belly, and it collected hotly in his stomach. It was thick and creamy like alfredo sauce and just as savory. The taste was bright and sunny, salty, warm, delicious in every way, and Coach Walker tried his hardest to swallow it all.
That proved impossible, as he was already starved for oxygen when it began. As Chadwin came buckets, Coach Walker choked up his cock, just in time for the last and thickest of Chadwin’s jizzoms to jet out over Coach Walker’s face. It coated him from his forehead to his chin in hot creamy goodness., and Chadwin’s hands firmly gripped him by the ear as though still throating him down, but his cock was roping out over Coach Walker’s face, so Chadwin could only hump his erection atop the creamy soup of jizz he’d made covering his head.
Then Chadwin took one small step away, and his cock slid off Coach Walker’s face.
Slurping up what cum he could get to, Coach Walker kissed his way up Chadwin’s body, licking all of that cum off and teasingly taking the shower water off his body too. Chadwin’s wrestling-toned muscles throbbed beneath his tongue. He sucked on both nipples, and again, his beard hairs scratched at Chadwin’s skin, reminding Chadwin he wasn’t with a woman. Chadwin pulled away before Coach Walker could kiss him on the lips.
Coach Walker cursed himself. He should have shaved first, he thought. Always shave first, I’ve learned that lesson before.
But he pulled off Chadwin’s cock, now that it was clear he was uncomfortable with this once more. He smeared up the jizz drying on his face so he could slurp it off his hand, while his other hand teased out every drop of cum from Chadwin’s rapidly limpening dickshaft.
When both men were done, Coach Walker stood. He sighed and placed one hand on Chadwin’s shoulder.
“How was that, son? That’s how things go on road trips.”
Chadwin blushed and smiled nervously. “I guess that was… okay… I mean…”
“If we shower together on the way home, I’m gonna do that again. So you can signal yo’ okayness by either showering wit’ me again or not. You got a couple days to think about it.”
He turned around and finally trooped into the shower, leaving Chadwin there to regain his breath. A lot of times there were other men in a Ramwide Truck Stop, sometimes many. The showers were a social affair in these kinds of places, and Coach Walker enjoyed that aspect of them, the camaraderie, the brotherhood, the manly bodies…
In fact, if he weren’t with Chadwin, Coach Walker would have played around with that mustachioed man who was there to begin with. Oh well, he thought as he turned on a showerhead and let the water wash him clean. There was always next time, so long as Chadwin chose to shower with him on the return trip.
He sensed the answer was yes. Coach Walker vigorously soaped himself up and washed his armpits — he’d loved the smell and taste of Chadwin’s armpits. They had a fragrantly masculine aroma that got his dick hard, and he was going to smell even better after the wrestling tournament. They always did.
By the time he was ready to join Coach Walker in his shower, Chadwin had already decided to do it. As long as it was on a road trip, he thought, he wouldn’t have to tell anyone and it wouldn’t count.
And he couldn’t wait to learn what else Coach Walker had in store for him.

The Fireman

Lance is an accountant who appreciates the male form, especially this hunky firefighter named Yoder. He’s a redneck, a macho and a devored fireman, and he’s gonna be willing to bend over and let a twink on top situation develop if it means he gets a full-time role at a fire station!

Can Lance take full advantage of this redneck’s sweat-covered muscle-bound firefighting body?!

Read it now as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Lance had never been as nervous as he was when he got behind the wheel of the firetruck. He wasn’t a firefighter. He didn’t even think he was very good at driving his own, ordinary car.
There was only one thing he was good at — accounting. Lance was an accountant, who volunteered his time to the local fire station. That’s why he was there when two of the firefighters on call, Yoder and Walter, got in a fight over a girl. The donnybrook began with a series of harsh insults, continued into a medley of fists and kicks and concluded with a broken nose, a “possible cranial” and a Jackson Pollack of purples and yellows. Yoder was crowing about his victory and Walter was bleeding from the head and on the way to the hospital when the alarm blared.
whoo-oo, whoo-oo, whoo-oo, whoo-oo, Benevolent 43 to Pittering and 9 Mile Road, whoo-oo, whoo-oo, whoo-oo, whoo-oo, Benevolent 43 to Pittering and 9 Mile Road, please copy
Everyone stopped moving. Mosta the firemen were whooping and calling after Yoder’s victory dance. Nobody much liked Walter Law. He was a perfect-jawed blond prettyboy with shoulders and a six-pack and a black eye. Girls loved him, especially hose junkies, cuz he was in the calendar, of course.
Lance had to admit he enjoyed Walter Law’s spread in the calendar too. But Yoder had a certain mullety handsomeness as well. He wasn’t in the calendar cuz he was just a volunteer then, not a full-time firefighter. He was a full-timer now though.
Anyway, due to the fight, there was no one to drive the firetruck — no one except Lance
He initially thought it was a joke when Yoder said he needed to do it, but the alarm was for an actual fire, not an automated alert, at an elementary school. Yoder was under orders to remain in the station until Chief Kettle arrived to handle the fight situation. Lance panicked, knowing he couldn’t bear to be responsible for even the slightest delay, what if there was a real fire at an elementary school and the truck doesn’t show up because Lance the accountant refused to drive it?
So he hustled his bustle down to the garage and jumped into the driver’s seat even before asking if it was a stick-shift (luckily it wasn’t). The firefighters were suited up in gear in mere moments, and Lance, terrified, pulled out into the street, sirens blaring. The truck was surprisingly easy to handle despite being so big. It drove like a silken dream, and cars moved out of the way. That was good because Lance was terrified to maneuver it.
In the end, the drive was simple. The elementary school was right down the street, not many turns to get there, which made Lance breathe a sigh of relief. He did bump into a postal service mailbox, possibly knocked it over, but he thought that would be forgiven.
It turned out there was a fire at the elementary school, but it wasn’t a huge one. It was just a cigarette incompletely extinguished and stuck to somebody’s shoe. Some flooring was scorched, and the playtime mats in one of the classrooms were partially melted. No injuries.
Before Lance knew it, a cop was driving him in a squad car back to the fire station. Lance was still in shock, the sirens still ringing in his ears.
He came into the fire station soon after the arrival of Chief Kettle, a burly middle-aged redneck who was furious that Lance, a mere accountant, had driven the firetruck. He had his own cigarette in his lips when Lance strolled in, proud as a lion, but it dropped to the ground as he snarled in rage.
“You redneck dumb fuck!” Chief Kettle picked up the cigarette he dropped and put it back between his lips.
Lance stopped short, proudful smile draining away. Chief Kettle jabbed a finger at Yoder and ignored Lance, but Lance still took it personally. He knew as well as anyone that he was not certified to drive the firetruck, or even the chief’s emergency vehicle, which was just a jeep with sirens.
“You know how much trouble we’d be in if he got in an accident? Our insurance wouldn’t cover it,” Chief Kettle said. His eyes narrowed into slits aimed at Yoder. “It would have bankrupted this station. We’d have been uninsurable.”
“I’m sorry, Chief. He called my girl a slut and he already fucked her one time, before we were together, and he said-“
“Don’t fill my head with ya silly trailer-hick drama, Yoder,” Chief Kettle said. “You could’ve ended this station. You let a fuckin’ accountant drive the firetruck. A sissy-ass accountant…” He turned to Lance, who blushed. “Nothing personal, Lance. You’re a great accountant and all… Nothin’ wrong with being a sissy neither.” He shifted his weight on his feet as though he wasn’t quite sure of that last part but was too polite to say it.
Lance stammered, his shyness preventing him from formulating any response. He blushed. He never met to come across as a sissy. He couldn’t deny there was a flare of truth in it. He may not have had a lisp and a limp wrist, but he wasn’t a big tough guy like the firemen. He worked out but never got bulky like they did.
“I’m sorry, suh, Chief Kettle.” Yoder hung his head and rolled his eyes when they were aimed at the ground.
“I dunno if that’s good enough this time,” Chief Kettle said. “This ain’t the first time you let someone else drive the truck.”
“That wasn’t-“
“Shut up! You let ya girl drive the truck, then you get in a fight in the station and let an accountant drive it? Yoder… Our insurance requires me to fire you.” Chief Kettle crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t got any discretion on this.”
“Jerry…”
“Don’t you gimme that,” Chief Kettle said. He left the station then so he could get in the firetruck that Lance had left parked out on the street. The reversing beeps began as he backed the truck into the station.
Conversation back at the station died down. Nobody made eye contact with Yoder, who stared at his feet. Lance was extremely shy, flushed and nervous. Yoder was short for a fireman, but he was a ropy-muscled spitfire of a man, his filthy-blond hair like dirty sand arranged in an almost mullet with an outright rattail sticking out the back. His powerhouse frame was scrawny even where it was thick — you could tell he would be more muscular if he focused on eating enough protein. The muscles he had were bursting out of him, which was why his punches knocked out Walter, who was a prettyboy maybe eighty pounds heavier than Yoder.
Lance wasn’t surprised. Yoder was the kind of redneck whose machismo and muscles and outgoing nature made him popular in high school, successful in the Army, an active member of his church, and a well-respected volunteer firefighter.
The truck rolled to a stop inside the station. The other firefighters in the back of the truck jumped off and removed their gear, while Chief Kettle and Yoder stood near the front of the truck. Lance hoped to melt into the background so he wasn’t seen. He no longer felt like a hero for driving the truck. It sure felt like he had sabotaged Yoder’s career.
A long fat pause sat between Yoder, whose face vacillated between genuine regret and proudly stubborn. Yoder’s upper lip even quivered.
“I ain’t gonna fire you, Yoder. I need you,” Kettle said.
“Oh thank god. I need this, Jerry,” Yoder said in his big drawly voice. “I… I don’t got a lot in my life right now. I need this. Don’t take it away from me.”
“You gotta prove to me that you’re really dedicated by not doing stupid shit.”
“I won’t. I promise. I’m done behaving like that. I’ll do whatevuh you want to prove it, suh, Chief Kettle, suh,” Yoder said.
“You don’t gotta do nothin’, just act better-“
“No, I will. I’ll show my dedication… You were in the Marines, right? You know the bend-over promise?”
“What?” Kettle wrinkled his nose. “You weren’t a Marine.”
Lance wasn’t sure what that was either. He also wasn’t sure that either one remembered that he was even there. He stood beside the firetruck, feeling like a third wheel (or, given where he was, a ninth wheel). He thought if he walked away, Kettle might put more and more of the blame on him. Lance was just a volunteer accountant, he was replaceable, more replaceable than an experienced firefighter.
“I was Army, but Marines did the same thing. I guess they ain’t do that back in your day,” Yoder said. He sighed. “My sergeant used to make us do this thing, when we wanted special treatment, like an extra day of leave, or getting away with hair past regulation length. It was… I only did it a few times.”
“What the fuck is you talking about, Yoder?” Chief Kettle’s broad cheeks was still red, looked like he was too mad to think about Yoder’s words.
“He called it a bend-over promise. He said if you really need something, you’ll be willing to bend over to get it.” Yoder gulped. “Y’know, bend over and grab your ankles.”
A long, awkward silence filled the firetruck. Lance’s mind whirred — the only thing he could think of was that Yoder was offering to get it up the ass to show his devotion. What else could ‘bend over’ be implying? But surely that wasn’t right.
“You what?” Chief Kettle chuckled. “I guess the Army ain’t changed all that much. Y’all is the same as you ever was. The Corps wasn’t as crude in my day. We called that a ‘lavender promise’. I never did it. I could handle just the leave I was allowed to take-“
“Well, I couldn’t, alright,” Yoder snapped down. “Lemme do this. It’ll prove I deserve to stay.”
“I already said I wasn’t gonna fire you. Besides, I got a wife, Yoder. I got no reason to ram up a man’s backdoor.”
“But you believe you should fire me. You believe I ain’t really devoted to this station, and you ain’t gonna give me a full-time position like that,” Yoder said. He turned to Lance and flashed a nervous grin. “I guess it’s your lucky day, Lance.”
Lance blushed. Surely, he thought, I’ve misunderstood what’s going on. But Yoder, dressed in his fireman pants and suspenders over a plain white t-shirt, crawled into the backsweat of the firetruck and motioned for Lance to join him.
Chief Kettle cackled up Lance’s face. “You look like a pig who just found out mud is worth its weight in gold, Lance, but you too horny to say nothin’, huh?” He didn’t even give Lance a chance to respond, he turned right to Yoder. “How many times you done this, Yoder?”
“Four,” Yoder said. “But don’t tell no one. This ain’t gonna be that bad. Those other four times I got plowed by my sergeant, who was big and mean and, uh… Nothin’ personal, Lance, but you ain’t as big as him. I guarantee that!” He whooped and laughed.
Blushing, Lance nodded and mumbled something about appreciating the male form, which he did. That wasn’t why he climbed up into the back of the firetruck can though. He did that because he wanted to blow a nut up a fireman’s behind.
It proved to be awkward in the cramped confines of the back of the firetruck. Yoder’s tall body took up a lot of space, especially as he stripped off his shirt, revealing his broad shoulders and Army tattoos. Lance was already rock-hard even before he had taken his own clothes off.
The smell of Yoder’s unwashed armpits filled the truck cab. He was sweaty by nature, sweaty from the exertion of the fight, sweaty from fear that he would be fired. His zesty musk was so thick in the cab that Lance could taste it.
“You really doing this? You know this technically breaks the rules too, right, Yoder?” Chief Kettle said with a snicker. “Our insurance company only allows the trucks to be used for valid firefighting purposes-“
Yoder sighed. “Shut the fuck up, Jerry. Everything is against some rule or anothuh,” he said. “Yes, I is really doing this. You’ll know how devoted I am to this station.”
“A’ight, le’ssee it.”
Yoder had his fireman pants still on, but unattached, so they hung low enough that his pubic hair was visible. Lance unzipped his fly, then hesitated, not sure if Yoder was ready or even if this was all a prank.
But still glaring intently at Kettle, Lance bent over in the back seat of the firetruck, fished Lance’s cock out through his fly and opened his mouth. He closed his eyes and sighed before swallowing Lance’s dick to the root.
Lance gasped. An explosion of intense sensations arose from his crotch, and he sucked in his breath. He knew this was coming, but still, he was shocked. A part of him thought Yoder would back out or would say that he had demonstrated his willingness to do so but didn’t need to actually do it. He could have just let Lance jerk him off, that would have been favor enough, and all the firemen knew Lance would do that if they wanted.
But instead he turned the tables and his massive body took Lance’s dick in his mouth.
He was so well-muscled that his shoulders alone took up the entire space in front of Lance’s chest. When Lance reached out to touch him, Yoder’s pecs twitched like he was ticklish and his back muscles all flexed at once. The positioning was awkward, but that just made it even sexier. Lance could barely grope his entire chest because Yoder was wedged in front of him, between Lance and the passenger seat. Yoder loudly suckled on Lance’s pulsating shaft, which rocketed right to a speedy erection.
Sparks of pleasure flew through Lance’s body, and he couldn’t stop gasping. His hand gripped Yoder by the rattail and mullet on the back of his head, and the greasy sweat of his hair reawakened the musk he exuded in the truck.
Precum flowed from Lance’s dick, and the taste made Yoder subdue a gag. Lance blushed as Chief Kettle chuckled nervously — it wasn’t clear whether he laughed at Lance’s surprised reaction or Yoder’s loud moaning, like he was so disgusted he could barely manage to keep going. Despite that, he didn’t slow down at all, and he even spat copious spit onto Lance’s dick, like he was an expert at this.
Given that he had done it in the Army multiple times, Lance thought, maybe Yoder was an expert at it.
Lance threw his head back, embarrassed at how enthused his reaction was. With his dick getting ready to shoot its load down Yoder’s gullet, he couldn’t help but grip and moan and rub and grind more passionately than anyone he had ever been with. He held onto Yoder’s head as he rode his throat like a porn star.
Yoder smiled wanly when he finally pulled off, long strings of spit connecting his lips to Lance’s shaft. “Hey, at least you ain’t Sergeant Powers. That man was ruthless. He used to plow my throat, talk about turning my tonsils into a clitoris and shit,” he said. He wiped spit off his face. “But it definitely proved I really really needed an extra day off, to get a girl — there was this one stripper who-“
“Quit gabbin’ and give up the booty!” Chief Kettle said with a snicker.
“Man…” Yoder shook his head and sighed.
Yoder bent over the seats in the back, and shimmied his fireman pants down. The fabric was so thick and heavy that his thighs were dappled with sweat, matting the hair to his muscles. His ass, now that it was bare, was trembling and pale, perfectly plump. Lance smacked one cheek without giving it a second thought.
“Woo-hoo!” Chief Kettle said, laughing. “You treat him right, boy, like that stripper you was tryin’-a fuck! Damn hoot, I bet you get promoted to captain of the accountants fo’ this, huh?”
“I don’t think that’s how accountants work, Chief,” Yoder said. He was bent over with his face in Lance’s lap, licking Lance’s cockshaft and shuddering as he tasted precum. Lance blushed, trying to think of something witty to say, but all he could focus on was his own dick spasming and pulsating. He was on the verge of cumming already.
He wanted more than anything to get his dick in Yoder’s ass. A part of him still thought Yoder would back out, that he wouldn’t go quite this far. But Lance had to try. Yoder’s ass was in position, or a close as was possible in the space they had.
Lance pulled away from Yoder’s face and climbed overtop him — literally mounting his broad shoulders and back like he was crawling over a hill. His moist cock and balls dragged along Yoder’s muscled back, and the friction very nearly sent Lance over the edge. Precum smeared over Yoder’s spine.
At last he was in position, cock wedged between Yoder’s asscheeks. They were tight, and the hole twinkled, resisting Lance’s cock. Yoder trembled nervously and buried his face in his own forearm, ready to bite down.
Luckily Lance’s dick was well-lubed with Yoder’s spit. When he pushed it into Yoder’s hole, Yoder spasmed and sucked on his teeth. He bit down on his tattooed forearm.
His asshole clenched, then relaxed, and Lance’s cock slid deeply in. Lance sucked in his breath just like Yoder did, and for a moment, neither of them moved. Bliss coursing through his veins, Lance found his cock sinking in deeper and deeper, as Yoder’s ass squeezed an orgasm out of his sensitive shaft.
“Well, damn, I ain’t think you was gonna do this,” Chief Kettle said. He chuckled nervously and wrinkled his nose.
As he worked his dick in inch by inch, intense pleasure ran through Lance’s veins. Yoder’s ass was tight, hot and moist. He felt like intact, presumably because he hadn’t been plowed since that drill sergeant back in his Army days.
“Ah, damn, you don’t feel like an accountant when ya dick is in my ass, boy!” Yoder cackled before the motion made him erupt in pain again, and his whole body tensed up.
Lance’s hands massaged Yoder’s back, kneading the muscular flesh there. He wanted this to feel good for Yoder, not that there was any chance Yoder would choose to do it again. He kissed the tattoos of thorny roses and military crests that dotted Yoder’s broad back.
He felt tiny in comparison to Yoder, whose back was broad as an ox and firm as one too. His muscles flexed, curvy lines appearing in spots where Lance had no idea there were muscles. Yoder was in good shape, even compared to the other firefighters.
Every few thrusts were strong enough to make Yoder clench, tightening his asshole around Lance’s cock as though trying to hold onto him by it. Yoder frowned and even howled, the sound resonating in the cab of the firetruck.
Outside, in the station, Lance heard some of the other firemen come back into the garage. They checked the equipment they had used on the call, making sure it was ready for the next trip. Lance froze with his dick deep in Yoder’s guts. Both Yoder and Lance fell silent, Yoder still seething and Lance resisting his orgasm. Outside the truck Chief Kettle stayed silent, blocked by the truck from being seen by the other firefighters.
“Where’d Yoder go? He came back with us, didn’t he?”
“I thought so, but maybe he went somewhere with Chief Kettle.”
“So that accountant was driving us back with no one else up there in the cab?”
“Guess so. Can you believe Yoder punched Walter? Chief Kettle probly bent him over and plowed him. That’s how rednecks do it y’know.”
Chief Kettle chuckled. He glanced out the window, but didn’t say anything to the firefighters out there. Lance’s heart pounded, which he knew was silly — he was the only person who couldn’t be punished if he was caught. But he would be ashamed if the other firefighters knew what he was doing in here. He moved slowly, grinding his dick in as Yoder winced and gnawed on his own arm.
Despite Yoder’s apparent discomfort, Lance sensed pleasure emanating from deep within him. Yoder tried to hide it, but Lance could feel it in his soft, smooth sighs when Lance withdrew his dick and his cooing grunts when Lance hit his prostate.
“That’s how cockheads do it, ya mean. But that’s okay, Kettle is both a redneck and a cockhead.”
Their voices faded as they headed towards the door to the station, apparently satisfied that all the hoses and other gear on the truck were in their proper places. Yoder breathed easier now.
“Yoder’s gear is still gone, ain’t in his locker. He must be with Kettle. Prolly gettin’ chewed out.”
“Yoder’s a fucking redneck too. So’s Walter, so I can’t really hold that against him.”
“So are you, Taney.”
“Fuck you, man-“
The door slammed shut before Lance could hear how their argument ended. He knew from experience that they probably continued arguing and eventually came close to fighting but didn’t actually do it. He was glad to have privacy again, and he began plowing with renewed vigor.
After all that, Yoder was much looser and more accepting of Lance’s dick. He groaned smoothly, relaxing his ass the best he could. He still grimaced each time Lance’s cock hit its apex deep within him, but it was clear that he felt more pleasure than pain. Lance didn’t have much experience on top, especially topping a burly redneck much bigger than he was, but he knew well how to make it feel good for both he and Yoder.
As his orgasm approached, Lance wished he could prolong this, but he knew Yoder wouldn’t put up with it forever. And besides that, Lance wasn’t sure he could prevent himself from cumming. He had never cornholed a powerhouse firefighter like this, and it was the most incredible experience of his life.
When his orgasm finally hit, Lance lost control of his body. He collapsed onto Yoder’s back, gnawing and sucking at his skin, which made Yoder chuckle awkwardly. Yoder bit down on his teeth as pain overwhelmed him, and he grunted out loud.
“Damn, you likin’ this, boy…”
Cum flowed into Yoder’s ass, great creamy gobs of it bursting up his guts, and pleasure erupted in Lance. It wracked his spine, making Lance twist and writhe atop Yoder’s back. He gasped, squealing right into Yoder’s meaty flesh; the sound made Yoder and Chief Kettle laugh.
“Hot hell, you do sound like a girl, Lance,” Chief Kettle said. Yoder made a sound that may have been a yes he does but just sounded like an agonized yelp. So much cum filled Yoder’s ass that he couldn’t even form any words.
Lance lay there, contorting as his dick fell soft within Yoder’s body. He felt too weak to get up, especially in comparison to Yoder’s tensed muscles. He nuzzled his nose in Yoder’s flesh.
Finally he realized Yoder was not going to accept this much longer. For now he was just laying there, holding his breath as he waited for Lance to finish. Lance pulled out and they both breathed a sigh of relief — Lance’s was a smooth exhalation, while Yoder rolled his eyes and grunted. His muscles finally relaxed all at once.
Lance rolled off him, dick flopping out of Yoder’s ass. Lance squeezed into the tiny space between the back and the driver’s seat. Yoder’s sweat-moistened t-shirt was right there on the floor, and Lance had a sudden urge to sniff it. One of the things he loved most about volunteering here was that he could see the firefighters in their underclothes and occasionally even caught a whiff of their sweaty armpits.
But sensing that this was an opportunity to do it without judgement, Lance grabbed the t-shirt. He inhaled deeply of Yoder’s musk, while the other two gasped as though they had never heard of anything so gross. Then Yoder guffawed, stopping only when he sat up and winced due to the pain in his tender ass.
“Ha, how’s that smell, Lance?”
“So good…” Lance blushed a bright red. His love for sweat was so personal to him he had never admitted it.
“Keep it,” Yoder said weakly, grimacing at the pain in his ass. He stayed on his side as he struggled to get his underwear back on in the cramped rear of the truck cab.
Lance smiled. “Okay, thanks,” he said. He felt too weak to climb out of the truck, so he just watched as Chief Kettle turned the seat down so Yoder could climb out as well. He still wore nothing but his underwear, carrying the fireman pants as he went. He stretched his sore thighs when he was finally out of the truck.
“You believe I’m devoted to this station now, Chief?”
“I do, I absolutely believe it,” Chief Kettle said. He turned to Lance, who still sat in the back of the truck. “You coming?”
Lance nodded. “Just… Gimme a minute. I gotta recover.”