Avery is at a diner when the massively hunky cook catches his eye. A hundred dollars later, Avery gets wrecked by this studly giant of a man in the rear pantry, which both is and is not a euphemism! Can Avery both get a full behind and a full belly?
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Avery darted through the woods, cum still drying on his lips. He was stark naked, but he carried his clothes with him, so he stopped behind a tree to get dressed. He had lost the Texan and his buddies, he was pretty sure.
His heart raced, his mind fleeting as he tried to come up with what to do next— go home? Or stay and play? The cruising spot in the woods had gotten rough, but the Texan was gone from it now. Maybe he could return in a few minutes.
He wiped his face off and swallowed down the last few drops of cum he could get to. His own dick was hard, or at least half-hard still — he hadn’t had enough time to get his own nut off; he was saving himself for a big finale, which had never happened.
There was a street up ahead, he saw it and headed that way. He hoped he didn’t look like too gross, with jizz in his hair and stuck to his ears. He didn’t have a mirror so it was impossible to be sure. He wiped himself off as thoroughly as he could manage.
Avery was in downstate Illinois. He passed a state trooper car in a parking lot abutting the woods. Avery thought about leaving the woods for the road, but he didn’t want to do that near the police car. It was theoretically possible that the Texan had called the police, and maybe the cops were looking for him.
That seemed unlikely. The Texan was at the cruising spot doing the same thing Avery was doing. Why would he call the police?
But still, there was no reason to tempt fate, so Avery simply walked through the woods avoiding the cop car. The officer inside was watching drivers on the road and paid Avery no notice.
The forest was dense with underbrush and Avery found the going difficult. His backside was still sore from his escapades with the Texan and, prior to him, a gaggle of Mexicans, who were enjoyable but rough. He and the Mexicans were interrupted by the Texan — or the man in a cowboy hat with a Texan accent anyway, Avery was thinking of him as “the Texan” — who cornholed Avery up the duff till he cried and begged for more. Afterwards, he got violent. Avery had to run off. Avery hadn’t done anything illegal, but he high-tailed it out of there anyway, so he never got to stroke his own self off. He had been waiting to finish off the Mexicans first.
Finally, he found a secluded road and followed it. He kept a little ways off the actual shoulder of the road, so he could hide behind a tree if anyone came past. No one did. This was one of Illinois’s rural routes that saw like two cars a day.
Soon the rural route connected with a less rural route — which was paved — and then that came to a state highway, which was downright civilized. At that point, Avery looked like any other derelict walking along the side of the road. A trim, well-dressed derelict with jizz in his hair. Or maybe not, he was pretty sure he got all the jizz out. Well, not all of it, but all of the visible jizz. He wasn’t gonna look like a cumrag to any strangers, at the very least.
That was good, because Avery soon came to a roadside diner, which was smack dab at an intersection between the state highway and yet another rural route that was a dusty road. The diner was scrutably named “The Dusty Road”.
And it looked homey enough, clean enough and devoid enough of violent post-orgasmic Texans, so Avery decided to stop there. It was as likely a spot as any to relax for awhile. He went in and was instantly struck by two things.
First and foremost, the short-order cook cut a commanding figure. He was well over six feet tall, built like an ox with strapping chest muscles that flexed and rippled and writhed like a barrel of snakes beneath his thin white shirt, which was too small for his giant frame. The sleeves ended midway down his fleshy arms. He was black as plums, his very dark skin gleaming in parts with sweat and splattering grease from the grill afront him. With a dour, frowny look on his roundness, he scooped up a heap of fried eggs and put them on a plate next to a mound of hash browns. He rang the little bell.
The second thing Avery noticed was the waitress. She was a young, pretty girl with the face of an ugly girl, her head buried in her hands as she sobbed with two other girls who did not appear to work here. The waitress was trying to tell some story through her tears. The other diners were trying not to stare. The cook seemed unperturbed. The sobbing waitress wailed, and her powder blue uniform jiggled.
Avery stood in the doorway, not entirely sure what to do. Did you just go right to a table? Or was that crying waitress supposed to show him to a table? He didn’t want to seem like an ass. The waitress didn’t notice him.
In any case, it seemed she wasn’t going to do anything, so Avery just sat down at the counter. That short-order cook muscled arm-flesh jiggled and worked up and down as he finished the second of a pair of platees. That sleeveless shirt was utterly soaked in sweat. It looked like it had been white at one point, but now it was dingy gray like mopwater, and it probably stank like armpits and pancake batter. Avery wanted to suck it clean.
The short-order cook glanced at Avery, then rolled his eyes. He was about to ding the little bell again to signify that the fried eggs and the waffles he had made were finished. But he eyed the sobbing waitress — whose nametag read Polly — that petite white girl with light brown hair, and it was clear she was in no mood to deliver a meal. The cook sighed. He took the plate of eggs and waffles himself to a table near the bathrooms, where a pair of businessmen openly eyed the waitress.
Then the cook approached Avery. He curtly licked his teeth. “Whatchoo want, suh?”
Avery said, “I’d like to look at a menu.” He avoided starting at the crying waitress and also at the cook’s powerful body. That left few directions for Avery’s gaze, and he looked down at the countertop.
The cook snarled and grabbed a menu. “Whatevuh you want, suh.” He tossed the menu in front of Avery, then returned to his spot at the blacktop.
Avery took a few minutes to relax. He perused the menu, but it was exactly what he had expected — typical diner slop. He could have guessed every single thing on the menu.
It was going to be difficult to proposition this middle-aged black man with the tastiest-looking chest in Illinois, Avery thought, with a weeping white girl just a few yards away. It was distracting. From what Avery got through the girl’s tears, she had been on a date with a boy who got handsy, and she was upset because he had seemed like a nice guy.
She can’t cry forever, can she? Girls can though, they have an infinite supply of tears. She’s got two friends comforting her. This could never end. It’s really ruining the anonymous-groping vibe I was hoping for. Avery glanced at the girl and smiled. Wish I was still cruising. He hoped he didn’t look like a creep. He wasn’t flirting with her, he really wasn’t. Some girls assume anyone who looks at them is flirting. Would she like it or dislike it if a flamboyant stranger came over to comfort her? Dislike it, probably.
Avery ordered a cup of coffee and scrambled eggs — he was on a low-carb diet — and sat there, hoping to get a chance to talk to the short-order cook. Damn the waffles looked good though. And they came with apple butter… Avery could eat apple butter with a spoon.
Eventually the businessman behind Avery finished his meal and got up to leave. Avery didn’t care because he was a sniveling nerdy type, and he was skinny. But Avery noticed him head over towards the waitress, who was now wiping tears off her cheeks and sucking in her sobs.
“Hey, sweetheart, how are you doin’?” the businessman said. He straightened his tie, and his eyes roamed up and down the girl and her friends. “I bet I could turn that frown upside-down. Make you feel good as a spring morning, baby…”
There was a moment of awkward silence. Then the girl covered her face and turn away, and her friend hugged her while glaring at the businessman. They all looked at him accusatorily.
“C’mon, baby, I know you lookin’ to get fresh. Why not lemme give you a hug? My hugs feel right as rain, swear to God-“
“Hey! She ain’t interessed, and she made dat clear!” The short-order cook’s voice boomed, loud enough to make the nearby stack of plates rattle. He came around from the grill into the diner, striding in big long steps, heavy feet stomping on the floor. “So you best get ya cheap-suit ass outta hee-ah!”
“What?!” The businessman’s eyed opened wide. “I won’t be talked to like that by some colored boy-“
“I dunno who you callin’ a boy, cuz this right here is a man, fixinna kick ya ass into next week!” The short-order cook stepped closer to him, grabbed the man by the tie and shoved him out the door.
Avery grinned as he watched. When it was done and the door had swung shut with the businessman on the other side, the cook turned around and glowered. The crying waitress got up and hugged his broadly muscled chest, grimacing a little at the sweat-soaked shirt she had to touch. Her arms weren’t even close to long enough to get all the way around his barrel-shaped frame.
“Oh, thank you, Eddie! You’re so nice! You didn’t have to do that, you know. Will you get in trouble?”
Big Eddie looked nervous about the white girl hugging him, and he looked around to see who was watching — just the entire diner — but he bristled and stood motionless. His deep voice grumbled. “Reckon it’s alright, Polly. Just… tell the police I was doin’ right.”
Avery cleared his throat. “I doubt he’ll go to the police. He was wearing a wedding ring, he wanted to cheat on his wife,” Avery chimed in from the counter.
“That pig!”
“Men are all pigs,” said the waitress’s friend.
The short-order cook, Big Eddie, seemed glad to be finished with the hug. He returned to the grill, which he laboriously scraped clean. Avery watched those big meaty arms shake as he did so, and he caught a glimpse of the man’s muscled chest through the opening in his sleeveless shirt.
Nobody would be allowed to wear a shirt like that in the restaurants up north, Avery thought, not while serving food. They’d be worried about armpit-hair falling into the food. Avery wasn’t worried about that at all, he would have gladly eaten some occasional armpit hair if it meant men like Big Eddie got to wear shirts like that.
There was a freshly moist sweat stain on the back of the shirt, which Avery only made out because he stared so closely. He was entranced by the flexing of the man’s firm-fleshed muscles.
Soon the cook turned around and glanced at Avery again. He stared crossly at the waitress, who was still chatting with her friends. No new customers had come into the diner. Big Eddie said, “You want sumpin’ else, suh?”
Avery pretended he couldn’t hear, and Big Eddie repeated himself. Avery smiled. “Sorry, lemme come closer.” He scooted around the counter into the kitchen in the back.
“You want somethin’ else? You finisht ya eggs.”
“Oh, no, thank you, darling,” Avery said. He smiled. “Actually, that’s not quite true, I do want something else.”
“What?”
“You.” Avery came closer and touched Big Eddie on his fat chest. Big Eddie furrowed his brow. Avery played with the greasy tee shirt’s fabric. “You’re very handsome. Can you get away from the grill for a few minutes? I’ll take you out back — or wherever you want — and let you just destroy me.” Then Avery wasn’t sure he was communicating effectively, so he said, “with your dick. I’ll stroke your dick and you can cornhole me in the ass. I’ll make you feel so good, Big Eddie, you won’t even know what hit you-“
Big Eddie looked taken aback. He seemed open to the possibility, Avery thought, but he didn’t trust Avery.
“How about I help you out some? I’ll give you a hundred dollars,” Avery said.
Big Eddie let out a throaty hollow laugh. He glanced up front at the lack of customers. He called out to the waitress. “Hey! I takin’ mah break.” The waitress said okay, and Big Eddie put one big meaty paw on the back of Avery’s neck. “You is sure nasty, mistuh. You de nastiest white man I e’er sawn.” He led Avery into the back, into a walk-in pantry filled with canned goods, sacs of potatoes, napkins and sundry other items. “No ‘ffense.”
“Oh? Are there black men who jack you off a lot?”
Big Eddie nodded. “Dey don’t pay though. And dey don’t do it like this,” he said. He lit a cigarette and leaned against one of the pantry walls. He just stood there like he expected Avery to do all the work.
“What do you mean?” Avery asked. He pulled Big Eddie’s nasty sweat-marinated tee shirt up, baring a big hairy flat and a well-muscled torso. Avery kissed and slurped on a line from his pecs to his crotch, wrinkling his nose at the intensely fruity, sour scent of his sweat. He slurped up a few drops of moisture.
Big Eddie’s mouth was open. “Dey don’t… They don’t go lickin’ on mah chest and shit, man. What is wrong wit’choo? De like… you know, dey j’st sucks a dingle and all. De makes me wear a nice shirt doh, and I gots to take a shower or dey won’t look at me twice. Make me rub dey shoulders and all. You j’st… do it?”
Avery nodded and giggled. “Why make you wear a nice shirt when I’m just gonna ask you to take it off?”
Big Eddie obediently took off his shirt. “You like big-meat colored boys?”
“I appreciate the physiques of strong men,” Avery said. “Color irrelevant.” He slurped up the sweat from Big Eddie’s well-muscled chest. His right hand snuck under his chest, to Big Eddie’s pants. He undid the belt and let them fall to the floor.
He had on tighty-whiteys, which made Avery lick his lips. Avery slid a hand under the fabric and gripped Big Eddie’s massive dick.
“I love your name,” Avery said. He kissed one of the firm pecs on Big Eddie’s chest. “Has everyone always called you Big Eddie?”
Big Eddie shrugged and chuckled. “Nah. I got that name at the Y.”
Avery didn’t really know what that meant, but he was too horny to ask for more information. His mind processed it slowly though, and he realized later that Big Eddie must have showered at the YMCA because he didn’t have hot water in his home, and the men he showered with there must have been the ones who dubbed him Big Eddie… presumably because they saw something big, something only visible in the showers…
As he sunk to his knees, he licked a trail down Big Eddie’s chest and sucked all the grime and diner-grease he could get off his skin. He tasted like breakfast sausage, Avery thought, plus a little funky and cheesy — probably because he didn’t shower often.
Avery didn’t mind that one bit. He loved his men big, strong and a little dirty — or a lot dirty.
On his knees, that broad chest looming overhead like an awning, Avery popped the tip of Big Eddie’s dick in his mouth. He was already hard, his knobbly dick jamming into Avery’s throat.
He used his ass-muscles to pound his cock into Avery’s mouth. Avery was surprised, not expecting such an aggressive throating so quickly. He relaxed his throat and swallowed every bit of cockmeat that he could. Big Eddie’s body rocked back and forth, shaking the shelves in the supply closet.
“Damn… swallow that deep, yeah… Ooh, you got mouth like silk, baby…”
It was so slick with sweat it was like guzzling saltwater. At first Avery thought Big Eddie had already cum, but he soon realized it was just sweat from working in this unairconditioned diner in heavy pants all day. His balls were positively soaked with moisture, which Avery suckled clean when Big Eddie finally pulled his dick out.
He had been nice to the girl, Avery noticed, but he was hardly chivalrous to Avery — he plowed into Avery’s throat as though punishing him. Avery wondered if that was how everyone was around here — did anyone ever admit in public to enjoying them? Maybe he was mean because he assumed he was supposed to? Or maybe that was just what he thought Avery wanted?
Or maybe, Avery thought, Big Eddie was just plain mean to non-girls. Regardless, Avery didn’t mind one bit. He loved powerful, confident men who plowed into his throat without regard for his gagging and choking. Great gobs of spit spilled out of his mouth and onto the floor of the pantry, while Avery had to grip those massive fleshy asscheeks on Big Eddie’s backside for support. His chest slapped Avery on the forehead.
Soon Avery was forced against the door of the pantry, Big Eddie using his entire body to slam his dick into Avery’s throat. His chest got in the way though, squashing against Avery’s forehead. For a moment, Avery was dizzy and thought he might pass out from lack of oxygen. He clawed at Big Eddie’s fleshy ass.
Then Big Eddie pulled away. “You aw’ight?” His voice was gruff and mean still, but Avery didn’t get the impression he intended it that way. He simply didn’t have much of a nice-man’s voice anywhere in his throat, Avery thought.
He slapped his cock over Avery’s face, chuckling throatily as he did, without even waiting for Avery to answer. Avery gasped for breath and chased Big Eddie’s dick with his mouth playfully. He suckled on those balls again, making Big Eddie gasp.
“Damn, you get nasty wit’ dem balls,” Big Eddie said. “You gonna bend ovuh and grab ya ankles?”
“Hmmmm… Yes,” Avery said, blushing. He tried to scoot out from under Big Eddie, but that chest pinned him against the door. “You gotta let me move-“
Big Eddie snarled and stepped away. He grabbed Avery and tossed him like one of those sacs of potatoes against the shelves. “Bend ovuh, whiteboy. What de fuck is wrong wit’choo?”
Avery bent over and stuck his bare, pale ass high in the air. He leaned against the lower shelf, giving Big Eddie the perfect angle to stick him in the ass. Big Eddie hefted his chest up and flopped it right onto Avery’s ass, leaving a layer of greasy sweat there.
“Ya nasty-ass boy, shit…” Big Eddie growled. “Bet yo’ daddy’s ‘shamed of you…” He spread Avery’s asscheeks and peered at his tight hole. He rammed his pinkie finger in — even that was thick and fat, and it made Avery moan in pain and pleasure.
Then there was a burst of pressure as Big Eddie’s cock slipped into Avery’s ass. It was girthy and meaty, so there was a little pain at first, especially bent over in this awkward position. Avery gritted his teeth as Big Eddie drilled into him.
He was relentless. Big Eddie believed that taking dick in the ass was a profound sin — he didn’t see it as a sin to be on top, simply on the bottom, because the man on top was doing as God intended with his cock — more or less — while the bottom was using his body in a way God never intended. So he saw it as reasonable to be aggressive, like he needed to be God’s hand in punishing his bottoms for their sin.
He plowed in, grimacing when he felt resistance and plowing harder. Soon he was all the way in, rocking Avery back and forth as he plowed into. A loud squishing sound could be heard, which made Big Eddie chuckle.
“Big Eddie! We got a customer!” the waitress’s voice could be heard.
Big Eddie shushed Avery, leaned back and opened the door a crack, so just his face could be seen. “I be up there in a sec, girl. I’s takin’ care of man-business.”
“Oh… Okay…” she said, seemingly aware that there was something in the pantry she wouldn’t want to see. She hurried back to the front.
Big Eddie growled and returned to plowing into Avery, slamming into him so hard Avery oomphed — almost crying out loud, though he managed to subdue it — and went with him to the floor. Big Eddie was so broad-bodied he took up almost the entire space there, and his chest flopped on Avery’s small, delicate back.
Avery could barely breathe, both from the intense pressure in his ass and Big Eddie’s heavy body pressing down on him. Big Eddie’s hot breath condensed on the back of Avery’s head, which Big Eddie gripped tightly to force him in place even as Avery squirmed.
A prostate orgasm arose within Avery, who finally shot his load all across the floor. Big Eddie didn’t even notice that because he was busy with his own growing orgasm.
He snorted and sniffled like an out-of-control horse, pounding at Avery’s body so hard Avery wondered if he would break a bone. Avery submitted, gritting his teeth and slurping on whatever bit of salty flesh he could get in his mouth — he was pretty sure it was one of Big Eddie’s manboobs.
Cum flew into him, huge creamy wads of it, flowing in his ass, seeping into his flesh and making him feel like a big nasty sweat-soaked cumrag. He was covered in fluids from head to toe, including even a few drops of drool that had snuck out of Big Eddie’s lips as he was in the throes of his orgasm.
Avery was soft, covered in fluids, dazed, his sore ass aching as Big Eddie finally rolled off him. There wasn’t quite enough space in the pantry to do that, so Big Eddie had to actually stand up before his dick slipped out of Avery’s ass. He slapped one of Avery’s asscheeks hard.
“Aw’ight, whiteboy, let’s see dat tenduh,” Big Eddie said. He didn’t wait for Avery, who lay limp and gasping on the floor. He pulled Avery’s wallet out of his pocket. Luckily he just took the money he had been promised.
Then he tossed the wallet at Avery’s head. He pulled his pants up and went outside to the kitchen to resume cooking.
“Clean yaself, nasty-ass honky,” Big Eddie said as he left.
Avery basked in the afterglow of his orgasm until he was ready to go. Then he cleaned himself up and headed out. That waitress gave him an odd look. Big Eddie had told her that he was doing “man business” in the pantry. She didn’t know what that was, but she assumed it was like her and menstruation — something only to be discussed with members of the same sex — so she was surprised to see Avery leave soon after Big Eddie did, she didn’t know anyone else had been back there.
For now, all she saw was the strange white man with the messed-up hair and crooked clothes smile at her as he walked out. “Have a nice day!” she said.
“I certainly will, ” said Avery with a smile on his face.
