humiliation – Mansploitation

The Bodybuilding Coach Bottoms

When the tutor Donovan is approached by some football jocks, he thought he’d be servicing their hot, throbbing needs… But it turns out they have another plan! Coach Mike Bagworth has lost a bet, which means the whole team gets to watch as Bagworth endures a twink on top!

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As he walked into the locker room, a part of Donovan was worried that this was all a trick. He was used to being pranked and teased by the seniors, the jocks and the bullies at Goldendale Hills University, and the three guys who had come to get him were all of those things. They simply said that Coach Bagworth needed him and that Donovan was to come with them.
Coach Bagworth was the head of the athletic department at GHU, and Donovan had jacked him off a couple times. Bagworth was in charge of the whole department, but he actually coached football. Football was the only sport that mattered at GHU. The only sport that mattered to Donovan, on the other hand, was gymnastics — he was here at GHU on a gymnastics scholarship.
The only reason Donovan didn’t believe right away that he was being pranked was that all three were shirtless, covered in sweat from the practice they had just finished. They were three big buff black studs who made Donovan’s knees weak. He was so distracted it wasn’t until he was in the men’s locker room that he began to get nervous. The football players wore shorts that barely concealed their jockstraps, no shirt, their bare chests dappled with sweat — it looked like they had just finished a practice when they came to get Donovan.
“Come on in here,” said one of them, snickering as he showed Donovan to the lockers.
But he hadn’t even known that he was going to the locker room when he followed the three black jocks. His heart started pounding as he realized that’s where they were going, and his heart nearly leapt out of his chest when he saw the entire football team clustered at one end of the locker room. This was a prank, wasn’t it?
“There he is, you ready, Coach?!”
“He’s fuckin’ tiny! What’s he weigh, like eighty pounds?”
“I could lift him with my cock.”
They all whooted and hollered as though they were excited to see Donovan, who didn’t know any of them. They all sat there in their jockstraps and not much more.
Hair and beefy muscle spilled out everywhere, and the best thing about it was the way they touched each other. Men crowded onto narrow benches, their bare asses spilling out from their jockstraps and touching their neighbors’s sweaty bottoms. A few of them rested their arms around their buddies’s broad shoulders, and as Donovan walked in, that gigantic Samoan linebacker Poahi goosed his buddy’s ass, making everyone around him laugh.
Coach Bagworth was in the back of the locker room, against a wall. He wore the same shorts and shoes, no shirt, as the players, though he wasn’t sweaty like they were. Donovan didn’t really care for football, but Coach Bagworth was famous in his heyday — and he still retained his professional athlete figure. It was slightly concealed by a thin layer of pudge, which was just the right amount as far as Donovan was concerned. He had a few tattoos inked on his chest, dismal gray ones mostly, but there was a brilliantly colored American flag as well, and a large football on his belly.
The players only stopped the hooting when Coach Bagworth lifted one hand up and snarled as though he was going to order them to run laps. Their booming voices and chortling laughter faded away. Donovan’s heart pounded, and his dick stiffened in his pants, from anxiety, from horniness at the sight of so many nearly-naked football jocks, and from arousal at the smell of their untreated musk, overflowing jockstraps exuding their intoxicating scent into the humid air of the locker room.
“Donovan… right? That’s your name? You’re on the gymnastics team.”
“That’s right.” Donovan smiled. Coach Bagworth was pretending to not know Donovan well, even though Donovan had jerked him off — and more — on numerous occasions. Donovan wasn’t surprised. Most men he serviced did the same.
“He got swishy hips and everything!”
“Lookit him, he’s drooling and shit!”
“Well, Donovan… You may know we won an important game last night. A game that I… before the game, I said I ain’t think we would win. Nobody thought we had a chance, they was s’posed to be a better team, so I told the team I ain’t expect much from ’em,” he said. He took off his GHU cap and lowered his head. “For that I’m sorry. I was wrong. I should’ve had faith in my boys.”
They cheered and pumped their fists. Donovan saw that one, a six-packed white redneck in the front row, grabbed at his crotch as though his dick was hard. What was going on here? Donovan thought the air was filled with tension.
“And, uh… I made a bet,” Coach Bagworth said with a chest-rattling sigh. “A bet I gotta pay up on right now.”
“What bet, Coach Bagworth?” Donovan asked. He was trying to butch it up the best he could — he simply didn’t think it was a good idea to be flamboyant here in the locker room.
“Tell ‘im Coach!”
“His lack of faith was disturbing!”
“I bet these motherfuckers that they’d lose,” Coach Bagworth said over the nervous giggling of his players, his voice grim and pained. “And they proved me wrong. What I bet was… my ass.”
“What?”
“I’m gonna give it up. You can stick it me, Donovan, any way you want,” he said. “Right here in front of these fuckers. The only rule is that we never mention this again. It don’t leave this locker room. That’s why they picked you, cuz you got a reputation for being a discrete… person.”
“Take it, Coach!”
“Oh my god, are you for real?” Donovan asked. His eyes opened wide. But no one could hear him over the sudden eruption of masculine laughter and good-natured jeering. Someone pushed him forward, again and again until Donovan stumbled into Coach Bagworth’s chest. Donovan got a faceful of chest hair, meaty pectoral muscles and weary flesh that tasted of cocoa-butter soap.
“Stick him! Stick him! Stick him!”
“Make him like it!”
Coach Bagworth again held one hand up for silence. The football players all dutifully did quiet down, though an underhushing of jeers and cheers filled the locker room. Bagworth looked dourly down at Donovan and rolled his eyes as though considering backing out now. But he didn’t. He just raised his eyebrows as though asking how to get started.
“Uh… Well, do you… uh? I mean… will you… uh, let me… lick… and-“
“You gotta just tell him what to do, man!”
“He’ll do anything you want!”
Donovan blushed as the players all laughed. Donovan took a deep breath. He knew he was going to look like an idiot if he didn’t develop some confidence. He sighed and took off his shirt. He was about to drop his pants, then smiled and told Coach Bagworth to do it.
“Oh damn, shit’s getting real. Drop those pants, Coach!”
“Do it! Do it!”
Coach Bagworth dropped to his knees, sighing as the locker room slowly filled with silence, everyone watching with baited breath. It seemed a lot of players still thought Coach was going to back out, but he didn’t. Coach Bagworth had massive sausage-like fingers and he fumbled with the tiny button of Donovan’s jeans. They were tight, so he had to shimmy them down to Donovan’s ankles.
Everyone burst into laughter again at the sight of Donovan’s bright pink briefs. He wouldn’t have worn them if he knew he’d be baring them in front of football jocks. Donovan was so small and twinkish in comparison to everybody here — likely he weighed a third of anyone else in the locker room. Donovan felt small and weak in comparison, but that wasn’t a bad feeling for him. Donovan preferred to be among massive men with big meaty manhoods, and his own trim, almost feminine, body helped to allure them.
“Honey, you better start licking before you take my drawers off, cuz I don’t think you can handle jumping right into it. My dick is not for beginners,” Donovan said when things had quieted down enough for him to be heard. That caused another uproaring of laughter, and that Samoan Poahi clasped him on the back as Coach Bagworth closed his eyes and kissed Donovan on the bulge of his underwear. Donovan shuddered in anticipation at the feel of the Samoan’s giant jock hands on Donovan’s smooth shoulders.
Coach’s thick lips planted on Donovan’s dick through his pink briefs. That sent a shiver of pleasure up avery’s spine. Coach Bagworth looked away as though he was going to gag, but then he didn’t. He licked the entire length of Donovan’s dick through those briefs and rolled his eyes at the rollicking players in front of him.
“He kissed it!”
“How’s that taste, Coach?”
“Fo’ us it taste like victory. For him, it taste like defeat!”
Donovan moved away and leaned against the wall, forcing Coach Bagworth to turn around. That meant Donovan faced the rest of the team, who were now mostly standing, clustered so close together their bodies were pressed against each other, hands gripping each other, jockstrap-clad cocks dragging against each other’s bare asses. They all crowded in together so they could see their coach’s humiliation.
Donovan cleared his throat. “You know, boys, it’s considered rude to watch without taking your cocks out,” he said. “I wanna see all your meat.” They laughed, nervously this time, but one by one they did take off their jockstraps, their cocks flopping like limp baseball bats, while Coach Bagworth slowly lowered Donovan’s pink briefs. Donovan’s erection popped free. They all hesitated to drop their jockstraps at first because no one wanted to be first — what if they accidentally got hard? — but once someone had done it, no one wanted to look self-conscious either, so they all did it.
“God damn, boy, I was not expectin’ that,” Coach Bagworth said when he saw Donovan’s big dick. Donovan blushed and thwacked his dick across Coach Bagworth’s embarrassed face. Coach frowned and turned around. “You fellahs said you picked him cuz he was discrete. You actually picked him cuz he got a big dick, ain’tcha?. He gonna tear my ass up.”
“Swallow it, Coach! Swallow it deep!”
True to his word, Coach Bagworth opened his mouth and let Donovan’s bare dick plump down his throat. He gagged loudly, and his bristly beard hair scratched against Donovan’s shaved crotch. Donovan sucked in his breath, as bursts of pleasure exploded throughout his petiteness.
“Oh damn, he doin’ it! Coach is swallowin’ dick!”
The players realized that Donovan was aroused by the sight of their naked bodies. Some of them were embarrassed and covered their dicks with their hands but otherwise flexed their biceps and wrapped their hands around each other’s backs, showing off their pecs and sweat-dappled shoulders.
“Slam ‘is face, Donovan! Make him take it like a porn star!”
As the players egged him on, Donovan gradually lost his inhibitions. He wrapped his hands around Coach Bagworth’s fat head and ground his hips until he could get his entire dick down there. The pleasure running up and down his spine was incredible, mind-melting, making it hard for Donovan to focus on the entire football team standing naked before him.
They all were so close that their dicks touched each other. Every few minutes someone angrily demanded someone else quit touching them with their cock, and a fight almost broke out. But they were too glad to see Coach Bagworth humiliated to stop watching and fight. Donovan spied a few dicks twitching and growing half-hard.
Everywhere Donovan looked he saw a naked body, in every shade of brown, pink and tan. He writhed, his knees buckling as his crotch sent waves of pleasure through his twiggy limbs. He tried to pound Coach Bagworth like the team kept demanding, but he was too weak, not to mention too small, so he could do little more than stand there as Coach guzzled his dick deeply.
Precum flowed down Coach Bagworth’s throat, making him gag and sputter over the din of his cheering players. Coach Bagworth snarled around the cock in his gullet. Donovan gasped and trembled at the incredible pleasure wracking his body so powerfully it almost hurt.
“Make him gag, Donovan!”
“Woot-woot! He’s really doin’ it!”
“Never thought he’d go through with it…”
Coach Bagworth was more than a foot taller and at least a hundred and fifty pounds heavier than Donovan, making it awkward for him to reach Donovan’s dick with his mouth. Even being on his knees wouldn’t be enough, he had to stoop as low as he could go. The more he swallowed, the more he shifted until he was nearly laying on his belly, just lifting his head up far enough to reach Donovan’s crotch.
That left his plump ass, beneath his dingy gray shorts, ready for Donovan to slam it in. He could have cum down Coach Bagworth’s throat anytime, but Donovan knew he’d likely never have the chance to pound a football coach like him in the ass ever again and he didn’t want to give that up. He concentrated on backing away from his climax, while his cock throbbed and his hands explored Bagworth’s well-muscled chest and thighs. Donovan wanted to reach down and feel up Coach’s ass, but he was too short to reach, so all he could do was caress the meaty muscle of his back.
“Alright, Coach Bagworth, stand up, turn around and grab your ankles,” Donovan said. The last few words were drowned out by a torrent of cheers from the team, but Coach Bagworth himself was close enough to hear his words. Donovan knew that position wouldn’t really work, he just wanted to make Coach try it.
He hung his head as he stood, stretched his sore legs and bent over to grab his ankles. His gigantic asscheeks parted in front of Donovan’s face as he got in position, but he was so tall that his ass kept rising until it was in perfect position for Donovan to lick it.
“Damn, Coach, you tall as shit. He can’t even reach yo’ ass like that.”
And so that was what Donovan did — he didn’t have any lube, after all, so if he were going to pound Coach Bagworth in the ass, he was going to need to do something to loosen things up. Besides, it ought to slow down Donovan’s throbbing erection, so he didn’t blow his wad too quickly. The team gasped, and even Coach Bagworth snorted like he had never heard of a rimjob. Donovan could feel the snort in the rippling of his ass muscles and the tightening of his sphincter as Donovan’s tongue plunged in.
Coach Bagworth lifted one leg like a dog and his whole body trembled, in a combination of pain, shock and intense pleasure when Donovan’s tongue hit his prostate. Donovan’s face buried itself in Coach’s ass, so he didn’t see his face, but judging from the laughter and comments from the other players, he must have had a funny look in his eyes.
“Lookit him! Can’t tell if he loves it or if he’s terrified!”
“Both, I think.”
“Nasty-ass shit… Crazy!”
Donovan lapped at Coach Bagworth’s sweaty ass, which was choked with coarse black hairs. Donovan suckled all the salty sweat off while producing enough spit to lube him up. The taste was musky, savory, so hot that Donovan wanted to jack himself off — but he forced himself not to touch his dick, so he could last as long as possible. His tongue rammed in and out of Coach Bagworth’s ass like he was trying to get at the center of a lollipop.
“Alright, now you’re going to have to get down lower,” Donovan said. He kissed each of Coach Bagworth’s plump cheeks, then slapped his ass as he lowered it. Coach Bagworth shuddered. Donovan slapped it again, like a coach encouraging his players.
But Donovan focused on getting Coach Bagworth down low enough to get in his ass. Once again, his height was an issue — Donovan had to stand on his toes, even with Coach Bagworth on all fours. He kept his ass low and his head high. Donovan spread Bagworth’s buttcheeks.
“Stick it in ‘im! Stick it in ‘im!”
Donovan’s dick was throbbing hard, nearly ready to cum already as he lined it up with Coach Bagworth’s ass. Then he pushed it slowly in, adding some spit to make sure it slid in easily enough. Coach Bagworth grunted and bit his lip. His head dangled and he lifted that foot again until Donovan made him lower his leg — he was so big that moving one asscheek to raise his leg made it impossible for Donovan to penetrate him.
“Stick ‘im harder, man!”
Donovan was a bottom by habit. He appreciated the physiques of men like Coach Bagworth, and he enjoyed servicing them. He rarely got a chance to top though. It was intimidating to pound it into someone so much larger and stronger than Donovan. It felt wrong. Coach Bagworth was so big Donovan felt like he was going to be swallowed by his massive ass, which retained all of the power from his pro football days, now comfortably padded and able to take every inch of Donovan’s dick.
“Damn, he destroyin’ that ass.”
“I ain’t know li’l dudes could plow like that.”
Donovan beamed with pride. The pleasure rocking his body was so intense Donovan moaned out loud, the sound ringing out and echoing in the linoleum-lined locker room and overpowering even the hooting and hollering of the football team. They clapped, encouraging Donovan to be even louder and pound Bagworth even harder.
Donovan had never felt physically smaller yet emotionally larger, like his primitive mind thought he had overpowered Coach Bagworth. His heart skipped a beat as pre-orgasmic throes of bliss made all his muscles spasm. Coach Bagworth grunted and covered his face from the watching team.
He didn’t know how long he kept pounding at Bagworth’s wide ass. It felt like forever to Donovan, but at the same time, it seemed to be over in a flash. He wished he could have stayed deep in Coach Bagworth’s ass until the end of time.
But his orgasm overwhelmed him soon enough. Donovan’s fingers curled and he gripped Coach Bagworth’s thick back muscles. He held on, mounting him so high that his feet were no longer on the floor. Supported entirely by Coach Bagworth’s athletic body, Donovan used all the power of his hips to slam his cock down.
The awkward positioning and the lack of leverage made the whole thing hotter for Donovan, who grunted and groaned, losing all of his femininity. His body was assaulted by waves of orgasmic energy, making him throw his head back and scream even before the first drops of cum sprayed into Coach Bagworth’s ass.
“Fill him up! Let’s see it drip down, boy! I wanna see that nut in his ass!”
And then it actually happened. His body shot jets of cum, copious gobs of it, more than Donovan had ever shot before. It was a pity he shot it inside Bagworth’s ass, he thought, because it would have been impressive to see it puddled on his back or somewhere like that.
The orgasm was so incredible that Donovan howled like a wolf, and the team joined in, harmonizing with him. They hollered and slapped each other on their backs.
“C’mon, Coach, make a hobby out of it! You did so good with Donovan, why give up now?!”
“That’ll teach you to think yo’ team ain’t gonna win!”
Donovan’s body went weak, and if he weren’t laying on Coach Bagworth’s back, he would have collapsed to the floor. Instead he limply lay atop Bagworth’s spasming back muscles as he moaned into the meat of Bagworth’s shoulders. Donovan clutched his body tightly.
“Damn, he fillin’ you up, Coach!”
“You sure he ain’t pissin’ inside you?”
“I see it dripping, here it comes! Here comes the cum!”
Donovan lay there for as long as he could. He enjoyed the taste of Coach Bagworth’s back-sweat and the feel of his ass clenching around Donovan’s dick as Coach Bagworth struggled to accept all of that cum. Donovan felt his semen dripping out of Coach Bagworth’s thick ass, sticking to the hair that it matted to his skin. Donovan licked Coach Bagworth’s ass until he stopped him.
“Okay, you had your fun,” Coach Bagworth said, his voice booming to be heard over the jeers of the team. He stood up, wincing as pain erupted in his ass and Donovan slid down, his big dick flopping out. Coach Bagworth burned with embarrassment when the team clapped and hooted, again shaking their own dicks in his direction.
The cum flowed out of his ass and dripped onto the floor. Donovan instinctively reached out to grab it, stroking his fingers in Coach’s taint and soaking up all the cum he could get. Coach Bagworth grunted but ignored him as Donovan wiped the cum off all over his giant ass.
“Woo-hoo! You got stuck, Coach!”
“How’s that feel for ya!”
“You ain’t nevuh gonna underestimate us again, huh?!”
Coach Bagworth again used one hand to demand silence. Everyone fell quiet — even getting cornholed in front of them wasn’t enough to ruin his sense of authority — and he opened his mouth to speak, then winced as Donovan’s hand brushed past his tender asshole. Coach Bagworth bent his knees and supported himself with his hands on the bench in front of him. When a few tittering laughs filled the air, he again held his hand up.
“Shut your fucking mouths,” he said with enough authority that they all clammed up immediately. The humid, cummy-aired locker room was so silent Donovan could hear the water running in the pipes — girls must have been showering in the other locker room. “Remember this is it. Once this boy here — sorry, I can’t remembuh yo’ name right now — once he leaves, nobody says nothin’ about this again, or I’m kickin’ you off the team.”
He shook his ass, forcing Donovan’s hand away. He turned his head and glared at Donovan, who for a moment thought he was in trouble. Then he saw the players smiling and clapping silently now that Coach Bagworth wasn’t facing them. They held a fist up in the air in a show of solidarity with Donovan.
Donovan decided to be bold — he stepped forward and kissed Coach Bagworth on the lips. He only stayed there for a second, because he knew Coach would push him away once he had a chance to react, and Donovan wanted to end this on his terms. It was a short, sweet kiss. Donovan wished he could have dragged it out.
Then Donovan pulled away and walked towards the door. He didn’t even bother to put his clothes on as he went. The team cheered and clapped, and this time, Coach Bagworth didn’t stop them.
“Yeah, you go, Donovan!”
“You can stick Coach anytime you want, you got my permission!”
Once he was near the door, Donovan breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn’t realized how tense he was until he was away from all those gigantic alpha males. He grabbed his spare clothes from his locker at the other end of the locker room, then got dressed, abandoning the clothes he had come here in back there. He left his clothes both because it made his exit more dramatic to sway his bare twink ass and because it gave him an excuse to come see Coach Bagworth later.
Donovan had a feeling that Coach Bagworth would be willing to reclaim his masculinity by topping Donovan, and Donovan planned on giving him that opportunity tonight. He smiled and whistled a jaunty tune as he walked out of the locker room, already formulating his plan for this evening.

The Poolboy

Rob’s got a hunky poolboy named Todd, and he’s got enough cash to get Todd’s pants off. Can he satisfy Todd’s throbbing young alpha needs?!

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read it here!

Rob Winthrop clicked through pages from an online Chinese dictionary, looking for the tattooed symbols that danced along the pool boy’s shoulderblade. It turned out to be more difficult than he thought to identify them by sight. The poolboy had a few tattoos, and Rob thought they were sexy. He had been trying to identify the Chinese symbols for a long time. He suspected they meant nothing at all. Rob had an app that was supposed to identify them, but he couldn’t get a good enough picture. Or maybe the app was crap.
“Yes, sell it when it hits twelve no matter what. That’s what I said, isn’t it?” That was Rob’s father, the multibillionaire Eugene Winthrop. His gruff voice filled the air, followed by some tinny suckuppery from whichever employee was on the line. He glanced at Rob and scowled. “Tell them to go fuck themselves.” He hung up his phone. “You’re going to this fundraiser tonight.”
“What kind of fundraiser?”
“It’s a dinner thing. Some kind of cancer. Or maybe teachers? I don’t know. Just bring the checkbook, they’ll have a vegetarian option-“
“I’m not going, and I haven’t been vegetarian for years.” Rob was vegetarian for about three weeks back in high school. He gave it up because his dad was oddly supportive of it. It was a pitiful rebellion, and Rob winced every time his dad reminded him of it.
“You have to go,” he said, and they both erupted in shouting, as Rob had known would happen. They almost never interacted without shouting.
“You don’t control me-!”
“I pay for so much-!”
“You fucking asshole!”
“Me?! How am I the asshole? You have to play a role in this business, Robert! You’re not just an inheritance hole!”
The servants scurried away. None of them wanted to be around Mr. Winthrop when he was angry, or he was wont to fire them. Rob didn’t think that was right — he was always nice to his servants. He didn’t even really want to have servants, beyond the security that was necessary for him to be safe — as an heir to a multibillion-dollar company, Rob was always a kidnapping risk. Rob deeply despised his father and used every opportunity at his disposal to humiliate him, so he liked seeing him blush and wince at the sight of his servants pretending not to listen to the argument.
“You ungrateful brat! I built this company so I’d have enough to provide for you.”
Rob scoffed and went to the sliding glass door, beyond which sat the pool. The poolboy was out there. He had brown hair that hung down in a casual, tangled mess around his head. His eyes were bleary and blue, his body lanky, ropy-muscled. He said he played basketball in high school until graduating last year, but he didn’t come across as a jock. Those Chinese characters — or probably-faux-Chinese characters — were visible on his back around the edges of his sleeveless shirt, one of those strappy kinds that barely covered his shoulders at all.
His name was Todd, and Rob had been trying to figure out how get a taste of his dick from the moment he saw him.
“I’m going to stay here and hang out with the poolboy,” Rob said. “You can’t make me go to some stupid fundraiser-“
“That’s disgusting, he’s a poolboy, for god’s sake, we don’t even let him in the house! Look at that hair!”
“His hair is glorious. It’s better unwashed and uncombed.”
“I forbid it!”
“Well, stick around, and you’ll be able to watch anyway,” Rob said. He stood up and headed for the sliding glass door that led to the backyard. He slid it open. Todd was by the pool, skimming the leaves off the top. His bare shoulders flexed as he dipped and dapped to the beats emanating from the headphones he always wore when working.
“You had better not do anything to embarrass me!” Rob’s father shouted through the door. He banged on the glass.
Rob smiled and waved at him. He went to Todd, who saw him and pulled the headphones down. Todd blushed — he was always nervous around upper-class people like Rob and his father. Todd ran his fingers through his confused mess of black hair.
“Hey,” Rob said.
“Hi. I’m just about done,” Todd said.
“Cool, cool…” Rob giggled. “So… Todd… do you have a girlfriend?”
“No.” Then a wry smile appeared on Todd’s face. “Well, there’s this girl. She’s… I mean, she’s not a girlfriend. But she’s like…” He blushed. He pantomimed a woman’s hourglass-shape in front of himself. “Tits like sirens on an ambulance, dude. She’s fucking awesome, man. And she smokes weed.”
“Yeah? There’s nothing better than hot chicks who smoke weed.”
“I know, right!”
“So… Todd… has my dad paid you yet today?”
Todd shook his head. “He direct-deposits it in my account, but not till the end of the day. Actually he never paid me last time, I just asked him about it and he said-“
“I don’t know anything about that,” Rob said. “But maybe I could help. Do you see that cabana over there?”
Todd nodded. He glanced over at the row of cabanas at the far end of the pool.
“Why don’t you go in there and take off your clothes? I’ll meet you inside in just a minute, and I’ll go to town all over your body,” Rob said, smirking at Todd’s blushing face. “In return for that, I’ll give you five hundred dollars. Plus I’ll make my father pay you for last time and this time, because he was probably going to stiff you again.”
“Oh…” Todd’s eyes opened wide. “Oh… wait… Oh…!”
Rob giggled. “Have you ever done anything like that before?”
“No!” Todd took a deep breath. “Wait… I mean… what?”
“Oh god, Todd… Smoke less weed, okay? This is a very simple transaction. You’re lucky you’re handsome, because you are dumb,” Rob said with his hands on his hips. “Just go in the cabana and get ready for me to come jack you off. I’ll give you money.”
Rob headed for the house, leaving Todd there to ponder what had just happened. Todd looked like he had more questions, but then he just shrugged and went to the cabana. Rob rolled his eyes — the handsome ones were always dumb.
He opened the door. His father had been waiting, watching by the door, but before Rob opened it, he scurried off. He pretended to be cleaning the kitchen — as though he ever cleaned anything himself — and nodded at Rob like he didn’t care that Rob was jerking off the help. Rob knew it bothered him though. He just stopped complaining because he was smart enough to realize complaining made Rob do it more.
“So he said no? The poolboy had enough class to turn you down?”
“Of course he’s not into it. I don’t want him to be into it.”
His father looked at him and furrowed his brow. Then he scowled at Rob. “You act like a fucking teenager sometimes, Robert. You’re a goddamn grown-up,” he snapped. Rob just smile insouciantly and went back outside.
The pool was deserted. Rob strode, shaking his ass for his father’s irate benefit and went to the row of cabanas.
He hadn’t actually intended to point at any specific cabana when he told Todd where to meet him. There were four here, but Rob had rather assumed Todd would go to the first one, the one closest to the pool. But something in his bleary-eyed stoner mind made him think Rob had pointed to the fourth one, the one furthest from the pool.
So at first Rob opened the door and was disappointed to see no one in it. Had he scared Todd off? He hadn’t seemed that uncomfortable with it, Rob thought.
But then he saw Todd poking his head out of the fourth cabana. “There you are,” Rob said. “Why’d you come to this one?”
“What?”
“No one ever uses this. We only ever use one cabana at a time,” Rob said. “It’s always the first one, just cuz it’s closer to the pool.” He came in and closed the door. It was always warm and humid in the cabanas. No matter the weather outside, it was always a bit warm and very humid in the cabanas, which had a certain smell too — bamboo, Rob assumed, since the inside was lined with it. This cabana had a few old tiki torches too. The servants must have put them here a long time ago (tiki was so gauche Rob would never have allowed a tiki party here while he lived in the house, so it must have been when he was away).
“So why have them?” Todd asked. He sucked in his breath nervously because Rob came closer.
Rob could smell Todd’s intoxicating aroma. It wasn’t a “good” smell in the sense that it was fruity and sweet. It smelled a bit chemical, like chlorine, a bit of bamboo, some cheap almost metallic-scented deodorant and the musk of an early twenties inconsistent-showering slacker. Todd wore a sleeveless shirt, so his biceps flexed as Rob came near and touched his arms. Todd still seemed confused and didn’t react to Rob groping his bicep.
“Huh? Why do you have cabanas if you don’t use them?”
Rob sighed. “What?” He hadn’t really wanted to discuss cabana theory.
“You said you only ever use one of them. So why have four?”
Rob thought for a moment. “I dunno. I guess the builder told my dad that was how many was normal for a pool of this size,” he said.
“It just seems stupid to build more cabanas than you need. Of course the builder is always gonna exaggerate, you shouldn’t just take his word for it-“
“Maybe he suggested ten and my dad talked him down to four,” Rob said. He rolled his eyes. “Why am I defending my father? I agree, it was stupid. We don’t really need any cabanas. They’re just a place for people to change. They could be replaced with one of those Asian folding wall things.”
“Yeah!”
“Are you gonna complain about the cabanas? Or are you gonna make five hundred dollars?”
Todd thought for a moment as though this was a serious debate. Then he shrugged. “I guess I’ll make five hundred dollars. If your dad ever wants to get rid of some of them, tell him he can hire me. I’ll do it for real cheap.”
Rob sunk to his knees. He knew he should just get right to jacking dick. Todd seemed very distractible — he was still talking about cabanas — so Rob thought this would never proceed unless he forced it along. But he also felt bad for Todd.
“You know, Todd, you shouldn’t advertise yourself as cheap.”
“What?”
“It makes you seem low-quality. You didn’t demand my father pay you last time you worked, and now you volunteer to work cheap before you even find out how much work the job is? That’s bad salesmanship,” Rob said, rolling his eyes. He didn’t mean to get involved in the economics of the pool-cleaning business, but he was on a roll now. He tugged down Todd’s board shorts. “You should try to convince people that this stuff is hard, that they need to hire you and pay you good money to do it. If my dad wants to hire someone cheap, he’ll find an immigrant willing to do it for half a Twinkie.”
“Really? A half a Twinkie-?!”
“That’s an exaggeration, but yeah, basically. Don’t compete for the bottom, Todd,” Rob said. “And my dad will never pay you once he knows he can get away with stiffing you.”
Todd sighed again, the sound turning into a growl. He blushed at the realization that his shorts were down, revealing threadbare boxers. He had been so involved in the conversation he had barely noticed Rob pulling his shorts down.
Then Rob got his boxers down too, and Todd’s hefty tan dick popped out. It was thick and juicy, and it twitched even before Rob planted his lips on it. He looked up at Todd, whose face turned bright red as his whole body shook. The smell of Todd’s musty crotch, liberally seasoned with chlorine, hit Rob’s nostrils.
“Ah, shit, man… you’re like… serious…” Todd’s eyes opened wide. He leaned back against the wall of the cabana, jutting his hips forward and forcing his still-soft dick deeper into Rob’s mouth.
Since Todd hadn’t even gotten a bit erect yet, Rob had to lick his limp dick. He always thought that was kind of arousing, Rob liked it when men needed a minute or two to get hard. A lot of them were nervous they’d be unable to get hard without a woman around, but Rob hadn’t yet met one who proved unable to do so. Rob could get any man hard.
Todd was no exception. Once he had taken a deep breath and Rob noisily suckled on his dick, Todd let out a moan. Then his dick twitched again, and again, and it slowly firmed up in Rob’s mouth. It was long and throbbing, and the more it firmed up the more Todd sucked in his breath like he couldn’t decide if it hurt or not. Or maybe he thought he wasn’t supposed to moan, so he kept suppressing them when Rob’s mouth sent shivers of pleasure up his spine.
Soon it was as hard as any cock Rob had ever tasted, and Todd jammed it down his throat. He didn’t pound into Rob like aggressive alphas usually did — Todd was more of a gentle slacker than that — but he did ram his dick in, he just did it more obliviously. Rob wondered how often he had been with a female — definitely some, Todd was too handsome to be a virgin, and he had fantastic hair. Surely some ladies had snapped him up.
But he certainly plowed at Rob’s throat like he had little experience. He was probably nervous because this was his first encounter like this, Rob decided. His dick awkwardly slipped in and out of Rob’s throat, making him choke and sputter on it. Todd kept stepping back when that happened, like he was used to women who never wanted to gag and would complain if he was impolite.
That wasn’t Rob. Rob never complained about an aggressive throating.
“C’mon, plow my face, force it down my throat, it’s okay…” Rob said when Todd pulled away. Long tendrils of spit still connected Rob’s lips to Todd’s cock.
Todd’s eyes opened wide and he stammered. “Oh… you’re into that? Oh… Oh…! I see… Oh!” He pushed his dick in again and laughed. “It really feels like a girl, but uh… you swallow dick better than them,” he whispered. He looked around as though people might have been hidden in this tiny cabana. “You go, like, way deeper. Waaaay deeper.”
“I know,” Rob said the best he could as he sucked on the tip of Rob’s dick. “Men always do it better than females, because we have the equipment ourselves. We know what it feels like.” He slammed his own face deep onto Todd’s cock, making himself choke loudly and his throat clench around Todd’s manhood. Todd’s tautly muscled chest rippled, and his eyes opened wider.
Now Todd began to get into it, his inhibitions gradually diminishing because he was hard. Precum flowed down Rob’s throat. It was salty and warm, and it made Rob’s own cock throb painfully in his pants until he took it out. Todd didn’t seem to notice.
“Shit…” Todd’s voice broke, and he chuckled quietly to himself.
Rob smacked his lips as he pulled off Todd’s cock. He thwacked it against his cheeks a few times, making Todd jump each time there was a satisfyingly meaty thwack-thwack sound.
“You ready to stick it in me?” Rob asked, gurgling on the mouth full of precum he hadn’t swallowed yet.
Todd smiled with a flash of excitement first — he didn’t get anal very often — and then nervousness. He had known this was coming, but he was nervous that he wouldn’t do it well. Of course, one of the nice things about being a “hustler” — aside from getting paid — was that he didn’t care how it made Rob feel. It seemed Rob preferred it that way. Todd didn’t need to sweet-talk him like he would a girl or find a way to be sure this wasn’t painful. He could just bend Rob over and plow into him as deep as he could manage. It didn’t even matter if he came too quick.
So that was what Todd did, or would have done if he were a more aggressive sort of muchacho. He grimaced at the sight of Rob’s ass — it was pale and smooth and perfect like a statue’s. He kind of wished there was something imperfect about it.
But he’d been with women who had hairier asses, and Rob even smelled like a woman (he wore female perfume on his ass precisely to make encounters of this sort go more smoothly). So Todd grunted and gritted his teeth as he lined his cock up with Rob’s backside. He used both hands to spread Rob’s asscheeks.
“Oh god!” Rob bit his lip when he felt Todd’s dick slip into him. The pain, as it usually was at first, was intense and mind-blowing. For just a moment Rob considered backing out — Todd’s dick was very girthy — but as usual, that lasted only a moment. He liked his dicks a little “too” thick. He enjoyed the challenge.
Sure enough, with just an inch or two of dickmeat sliding into him, Rob’s pain slowly transformed into pleasure. Todd’s awkwardity made the same transition, as his staccato breathing shifted from sounding like he was on the verge of running away in terror to sounding like he might blow his wad at any moment.
“Shit…” Todd moaned as he began to plow in earnest. He used all of his strength to pound away at Rob’s tight ass, his cock sliding in and out with each thrust of Todd’s hips.
Todd was surprised that this felt so good, it seemed maybe embarrassing to be that into it. Todd wasn’t an ex-con, after all. It felt so amazing because Rob knew how to use his ass. He was somehow both loose and tight at once: loose enough for Todd to plow away with all his might, tight enough for there to be a struggle and for Rob’s ass to clench around Todd’s cock.
It was incredible. Todd didn’t know anal could be like this. It was enough to, for a moment, make Todd wonder if he could be a hustler as a career — could he find numerous wealthy men like Rob? Probably not, he figured that was likely more difficult than it seemed. Plus they’re probably all into black guys.
He wondered if he could keep Rob as a consistent lay — this could be a nice little side-income stream, he thought. Plus when he was unable to get laid… It would be convenient to both blow a nut and get paid.
As an orgasm exploded deep within him, Todd finally smiled, the last of his reluctance melting away only now that he was done. This, he thought, was a lot less nervewracking than he had seemed. He ran his fingers through his scruffy hair and let out a loud moan that resonated in the cabana.
“Rob!” Rob’s father’s voice filtered through the air. He had been looking in the first cabana — the one everyone actually used — and when he heard Todd’s moan, he realized they were actually in the fourth cabana instead.
Rob orgasmed too. Waves of pleasure emanated from his prostate. The best thing about getting cornholed by young men was that they didn’t even understand the prostate — they just slammed, hard and passionate and intense, and their dick went wherever it ended up, which was somehow always right there on the prostate, Rob’s little pleasure-button, making him gasp and moan and writhe there on the floor of the cabana.
“Robert! Robert Winthrop!” His father was outside now, pounding on the door. It wasn’t locked, but he wouldn’t open it. “Are you trying to humiliate me?!”
“Aaaaaah….” Rob called out and sighed, attempting to say yes though all that came out was a wordless moan. He tried to giggle too, but the orgasm still flowing through his veins made it hard to concentrate.
A surge of fear hit Todd even before his orgasm was even done. He pulled out, heart pounding — was he in trouble with Mr. Winthrop? He hadn’t really considered what would happen if he got caught. At the very least, he thought, he probably lost this client for his pool-cleaning business.
“Don’t worry,” Rob said with a dry chuckle. He stood and stretched his legs. “My dad won’t do anything. He hates me for getting it in the ass, not you for doing it.”
“Oh…” Todd looked down at his limp dick like it had betrayed him. He wiped it off with a towel that was here in the cabana. His cheeks and chest were ruddy and dappled with sweat, both from exertion and from the humid air of the cabana.
“Robert Winthrop! You had better come out of there! I need you getting ready for the fundraiser!”
“I told you, I’m not going unless it’s Spiceman Catering!” Rob said. He crossed his arms over his chest, then realized his father couldn’t see that because the door was still shut. He just shrugged and pulled his pants up. Todd’s panicked expression continued, so Rob added, “and you have to pay Todd! You shouldn’t have stiffed him last time.”
After a long pause, Rob’s father said, “if I pay him now, will you go to the fundraiser? And behave yourself.” He gulped audibly. “Yes, it is Spiceman Catering. But you have to-“
Rob threw the cabana door open. “Why didn’t you say so?” Spiceman Catering was a Sri Lankan catering company whose employees were the entirety of a local semi-professional cricket team, trying to launch a league in the United States. They were all hunky jocks, and they had big dicks and marvelous mustaches, and Rob had jacked most of them off at previous black-tie events. They were his favorite catering company.
“I didn’t want you to embarrass me!”
“I won’t! I’ll be as discrete as possible,” Rob said with a grin. “Oh, almost forgot.” He looked at Todd. “You should have reminded me to pay you. Don’t let rich folk stiff you.” He counted out the five hundred dollars. “And dad, don’t count this as his payment for cleaning the pool. You still owe him.”
“Yeah, fine. Donate five grand to whatever the fundraiser is for, and make sure Adam Patelli sees you do it.”
“Sure, whatever,” Rob said with a shrug. He didn’t care about that part. He had his own goals for the evening.
Ignoring his father, Rob headed into the house to change into a tuxedo. He didn’t like dressing up, but for some studly Sri Lankan caterers, he’d wear whatever it took. He remembered only at the last moment to go back out there and meet Todd before he left, making sure he got paid for all of his pool-cleaning.
It was funny that that was probably what pissed his father off the most. Getting off the poolboy was embarrassing, and getting plowed by the caterer was too — but most of his wealthy buddies messed with the help too. That was expected. Rob’s mother was fucking her tennis pro, and everybody in the Western Hemisphere knew it.
Actually making sure the help was paid? That was beyond the pale for the Winthrop family, or at least the older generation of it.
Rob, on the other hand, was already figuring out how much cash he’d need to bring to nab an entire cricket team’s worth of Sri Lankan man-meat.

The Warehouseman

Rob thought he was in for a boring day when he runs into a studly young black man in a warehouse. He needs money for court fees, and Rob needs his throbbing fat meat! Can they reach a mutually agreeable deal?

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Rob Winthrop was bored. He felt like crying as he sat there and endured the world’s most hideous presentation. It was so boring it hurt. He couldn’t even think of anything exciting to do, like this presentation was so boring it made other things less exciting through contagion, like it crowded out the part of Rob’s brain that could experience excitement.
What was an exciting thing? Planes… Explosions… Movies? The only movie Rob could remember was Nanook of the North, which he had watched in film class. And that Andy Warhol movie that was just a twelve-hour video of a skyscraper.
Excitement was a real thing, wasn’t it? Rob felt like prying his eyelids off.
It was a presentation about the relative popularity of the costs of implementing various water purification strategies in certain parts of rural Colorado. The presenter was a dour-faced black woman who was probably chosen as a presenter because she was beautiful and they thought Rob would be interested.
Rob didn’t care about her. He only came here because he wanted to humiliate his father yet again. But there were no good opportunities. He could just rip all his clothes off in the middle of the meeting — that would certainly add some excitement — but he’d done that before. People just assumed he had a psychotic break or an alcohol problem, something like that. Rob was a billionaire’s son, so everyone found it easy to believe there was something wrong with him.
No, if he was going to humiliate his father today, it would have to be something else. His father periodically set him up with companies to manage, in hopes of pushing him towards a more responsible future.
But Rob hated his father with a fiery passion, so he always ran those companies into the ground (or just ignored them). Toqay he was in Colorado, taking control of a county government services company. Rob was supposed to help them expand into state and federal government contracts. It was the single most boring goal anybody has ever had.
A woman came into the meeting. She meekly apologized for interrupting it. She needed the CEO, to sign something, which he did with a scowl like he was annoyed, not at being interrupted, but at the thing he needed to sign.
“Another one? Tell him to keep it in his pants, for Ch-f-sh…” It sounded like he was going to say for Christ’s sake, then for fuck’s sake, then for shit’s shake but didn’t want to curse because Rob was here, so he just stammered and said nothing. “He’s going to be a slave sooner or later.”
Then he suddenly blushed intensely. He coughed like he hadn’t meant to say that. He glanced at the presenter, the only black person in the room. She was on the other side of the conference table so it didn’t seem that she heard what he said.
Rob’s eyes opened. This, he thought, was a thing. He didn’t know what, but there was clearly something happening here.
He excused himself and made his way out after the woman, who hurried towards the door marked Human Resources at the end of the hall. She glanced at Rob. “The bathrooms are down that way, sir-“
“That’s not why I came out,” Rob said. He glanced at the clipboard. “Is that…?”
The human resources lady did not know that Rob was not a businessman. She assumed he was given this company because he wanted to and knew how to run it. So she assumed that he asked to see the paperwork because it was relevant to his business, which indeed it was. That simply wasn’t why Rob wanted to see it.
It was a court order, demanding that the company garnish the wages of Jaekwan Malcolm Brown. One hundred and seventy-eight dollars were to be taken from his paychecks and sent to a child-support-payments processing company.
“It’s just a garnishment order, sir,” she said. She blushed. “It’s okay, we know how to do it. Mr. Brown has… other garnishments on his file.”
Rob made a serious face like his father would have. “Well, ma’am,” he said, “I’m going to have to investigate this. Where do I find Mr. Brown?”
“He works in the warehouse,” she said. She watched him walk away like she was nervous, like she was supposed to stop him — which was technically true, since human resources matters were supposed to be confidential. But Rob didn’t care. The more rules he broke, the more embarrassed his father would be, and then Rob wouldn’t have to run any more companies into the ground for awhile.
He went down to the warehouse on the first floor. About twenty guys worked there shipping and receiving supplies. A huge part of the warehouse was filled with blue recycling bins.
The warehouse guys didn’t know who Rob was, and he didn’t really carry himself like an executive, so they didn’t react to him. He asked where Jaekwan was and they said only that he was around here somewhere.
Rob eventually found him among the stacks of blue recycling bins. He didn’t know that’s who it was at first. That’s because he didn’t see him right away. He heard him first.
It sounded like someone trying to lift something heavy. There was the sound of a woman there too. Rob smiled when he realized it was the sound of sex.
It was him. Jaekwan wore the blue pants and polo shirt of the warehouse workers, but he had pulled the pants down and lifted the shirt over his head. He had a tight grip on a thick woman’s hair as he pounded into her.
She was the married receptionist at the pool services company next door. She was thick and not especially attractive.
Jaekwan, however, was perfect. He was young and tall and ropy-muscled, not exactly thick but not skinny by any means. He had cornrows and deep, dark skin inked with blueish tattoos. His face was noble and square and big and expressive, and Rob wanted to gaze into his eyes. He wasn’t sexy or even really handsome, or at least not especially handsome, but he had swagger to spare, and Rob was sure Jaekwon could get any woman he wanted. Presumably that was exactly what he did, hence the garnishments on his paychecks. He let out a growl as he filled the woman’s pussy with his seed. Rob watched cum drip down onto the floor.
“Damn, girl, you treat me right,” he said. He grinned, showing off his deep dimples. His massive dick flopped out of her body limply. She blushed and whispered something to him. Jaekwan bent over and kissed her on the forehead. “Nah, baby, I can’t kiss you on the lips. You sucked my dick earlier. That’s nasty.”
“Jaekwan! I’m leaving my husband for you!” She looked down at her feet as she pulled her panties up.
“Don’t. I tol’ you not to, baby,” he said. He already had his phone out and was texting someone, his pants still around his ankles, fat cock bobbing around and dripping a few remnants of cum and pussyjuice onto the warehouse floor.
“Come on…”
“No.” He pulled his pants up and scowled at her. “That ain’t the kinda nigga I am. You best get back to yo’ office, baby.” He walked away with a noticeable pimp lean. He didn’t pull his shirt back down, so his sweat-dappled chest was bare. Rob had a feeling he did that because it would imply to his fellow workers that he had had sex among the stacks of recycling bins.
Sure enough, he heard their deep-throated greetings, slapping hands and macho boasting. It all erupted at once so he couldn’t hear exactly what was said, but the meaning was clear. They must have known he was here fucking a woman.
Rob tried to make his way back to the main part of the warehouse without being seen, but he made slow progress. He heard Jaekwan become upset about something. He shouted curses about lawyers and judges, which Rob took to mean he found out his paycheck had been garnished yet again.
Soon the warehouse guys filtered out. Rob’s cell phone blew up with text messages from the executives upstairs — they didn’t know where he went, and they needed him to make a decision on some issue that bored Rob so much he couldn’t possibly choose. So he turned his cell phone off.
Jaekwan worked later than the others because it was his turn to clean up. That meant he had to sweep and double-check that all of the heavy machinery was turned off and unplugged, so he was to leave some half an hour after the others. He was supposed to verify that the office was empty, lock the warehouse door and close the gate too.
That gave Rob an idea. He went around Jaekwan — who swept with earbuds in, so it was easy to sneak around him — and went upstairs. He wrote Hey Jaekwan, you wanna make a thousand dollars by demolishing some ass? on a whiteboard, with an arrow pointing into the CEO’s office.
Rob went in there and bent over with his bare ass high in the air. He covered himself in lube.
Finally he heard Jaekwan come upstairs. He opened the door from the stairwell and called out, “Hey! Any motherfucker here?” He sounded angry.
Rob paused, waiting for him to come in here. He was supposed to check that no one was in the office. The company’s insurance required him to look in each room.
But he didn’t. Rob hadn’t even considered the possibility that Jaekwan might not actually do it. Rob hurried out into the hall once he heard the doors slam shut.
Am I gonna be locked in?
He made his way to the stairwell. Jaekwan was down on the first floor. “Hey Jaekwan! Hey!” But his earbuds were still in. Jaekwan danced as he went down the steps, murmuring along with the song. He had a bitter, angry look because he was still mad about the garnishment order. He was pretty sure that kid wasn’t his anyway.
Rob made it into the warehouse behind Jaekwan. He shouted and even knocked over a recycling bin to try to get his attention. Jaekwan opened the bay doors. He stood there waiting for them to open.
Then he stepped out and pushed the button to close them. He only turned around and saw Rob sprinting through the warehouse towards him as the bay door slid shut in front of him.
“Hey!”
“Yo! Hey! Was someone in there?!”
There was a moment’s silence. Rob kept running even as the lights flicked off. He was plunged into pitch-blackness and collided face-first into the bay door just as it began raising once again. Pain exploded in his nose. “Ow, fuck!”
“Hello? Mister? Who in there?” Jaekwan sneered when the door opened. He took the earbuds out of his ear.
Rob was out of breath. “Hey. Sorry. Hey. I’m… I’m Rob.”
“Rob? Do you work here?”
“Sorta… I… own… it.”
“You own it? Own what?”
Rob gestured all around him. “This.”
It looked like Jaekwan either didn’t understand or didn’t believe him. He scowled. “What?”
“I own this place. I’m Rob Winthrop.”
“Oh.” His eyes lit up. “Oh! You’re that guy?!”
“Yeah. That’s me.”
He paused, then forced a smile on his face. “Yo. Uh, hey! Hey… Nice to meet’cha, sir.” He shook Rob’s hand.
“Don’t…” Rob wanted to tell him not to be so polite, to not treat him like a boss. But he was still out of breath. It had been exciting, he thought, after a day of boring work, he had had to race or be locked in overnight.
“Don’t what?”
“Sorry, uh…” Rob said. He leaned against the wall. He took a deep breath. “We’re not at work anymore. You don’t have to call me sir. I mean, you can call me Rob even at work, but now you should really call me Rob.” He took a deep breath.
“Oh. Okay, Rob. I’m Jaekwan.” He grinned. “Sorry I was in a bad mood before. I, uh… I’m kinda upset-“
“I know. I heard. You got your wages garnished.”
He nodded. “Man, I can’t get ahead. It ain’t fair. Court fees got me down. Costs so damn much…” He paused and spat on the ground. “You alright? You fall asleep in there or what?”
“No, not that,” Rob said. He took a deep breath. “I wrote something upstairs — we should…” He chuckled. “Nevermind. It’ll be a surprise tomorrow.” He paused. “I was hoping to talk to you.”
“Me?”
“I would be willing to help you with your court fees and child support,” Rob said. “But you gotta do something for me.”
“Hmm?”
“Cornhole me.”
His eyes opened wide. “What?”
“I want you to cornhole me. I’ll get you hard-“
“Okay.” He paused. Then he paused and bristled. He looked around, shutting the bay door behind himself. “I mean… how much? I don’t do that shit. You gotta pay-“
“Jaekwan, it would be more effective if you negotiated before you said okay.”
“I ain’t mean to say okay. I was…” He smiled like he had been caught in a lie. “You gotta pay a lot. I don’t do this. It’s, y’know… You gotta pay me a lotta money. Twenty grand.”
Rob choked. “Shit, are you serious?”
“Twenty grand.”
“Jaekwan…”
“What, man?!”
“I’m not paying you twenty grand.”
“Why not? I got good nigga dick!” He grabbed his cock through his crotch and snorted. “Bam!”
“That’s not happening, Jaekwan. I’m not paying twenty grand,” Rob said. “I was gonna offer two hundred dollars.”
“Man…” He sucked on his teeth. “Five hundred dollars.”
“Fine.” Rob shook his hand and giggled. “Did you really think I was gonna pay twenty grand?”
He opened the door to the warehouse and led Rob in. “Man, you should pay that. I’m good, man. I swear. I can stick you so good-“
“There is no way you do it twenty grand good. Unless your jizz is Apple stock, it can’t be that valuable.”
He sniffled. He stepped into the warehouse, leaned against a wall and lifted his shirt over his head again. “I’m worth twenty grand, man.”
“Well, prove it,” Rob said as he dropped to his knees.
He unzipped his jeans and let a thick black cock flop out over Rob’s face. He laughed and slapped Rob on the cheek with it. “You like nigga dick, huh?”
Rob blushed and nodded. That wasn’t exactly true — Rob loved all kinds of men. One funny thing about them was that they always assumed he had a fetish for their type. He didn’t have a special love for black guys, but whenever he jerked one off, they assumed he had a black-men fetish. Whenever he jerked off a Texan, they thought he had a fetish for Texans. When he jerked off plumbers or Mexicans or stuntmen or bus drivers or Native Americans, they always assumed he had sought them out for their identity. He didn’t bother to explain that because he knew from personal experience that Jaekwan would just think he was lying anyway.
“Uh-huh…” Rob licked his dick from tip to root. It twitched and got hard in his hand. He kept licking, not putting it in his mouth, just licking it, until it was fully hard and throbbing where it lay against his face.
“Why don’t white boys offer money more? Huh?”
Rob went right to throating it. He didn’t really understand what Jaekwan was asking, and Rob was too focused on his cock to consider it. He slurped up all the day’s sweat off Jaekwan’s dick, while his hands roamed up to Jaekwan’s perfectly flat belly.
“Huh? Man?” He grabbed Rob by the ears and pulled him off his dick. “What’choo think? My daddy always said-“
“Lemme get-” Rob stuck his tongue out. He managed to tease the tip of Jaekwan’s dick, but Jaekwan wouldn’t let him go back to it. Rob pushed against his hand with his tongue out. Jaekwan’s dick, which still stank of that fat girl’s pussy, throbbed half-hard, tantalizingly close to Rob’s face.
“My daddy used to say that you could get white boys to pay you for dick, to make they dick better. Like if’n you swallow some big nigga dick, it make yo’ dick bigger. He say he got this white man who pay a thousand dollars to jack ‘im off. He got all these rules-“
“C’mon…” Rob managed to break free and taste his dick for a few seconds, his mouth plunging deep on Jaekwan’s shaft, but Jaekwan pulled him off without missing a beat.
“He got rules, like you can go behind a swanky nightclub and they’s always gonna be there, givin’ cats dome. But I done that and ain’t no one there but some swishy sissy passed out cold. Ain’t even have no money in his wallet.” He paused. “Well, answer it, man.”
Rob rolled his eyes. “You didn’t ask a question.” He really wanted to get back to Jaekwan’s dick. He had one hand on the base, stroking it slowly, hoping to get Jaekwan hard enough he’d get on with it.
He furrowed his brow. “What up with that?”
“That’s… I don’t know, uh… I mean… Your dad, uh… sounds like he’s full of shit.”
He threw his hands in the air. “I know, right?!”
“Maybe it used to be true. Maybe when he was growing up, there were guys offering money behind a nightclub. That’s not, like, a tradition though,” Rob said. “Can I get back to your dick now?”
“Yeah, man, go for it.” He wrinkled his nose like he hadn’t made Rob stop. He moaned as Rob immediately throated him deeply. He leaned against the wall. “Shit, man…” He paused. “We should set up some regular thing, man. Like… I can come over, and you can pay me-“
“No.” Rob smiled. “Sorry. I don’t do that.”
“Man-“
“Do you have a girlfriend?”
“What?”
“Do you have a serious girlfriend?” Rob stroked his dick and teased it, tracing the veins that ran up and down the shaft with his tongue.
Jaekwan scoffed. “Nah. I don’t do that. I got bitches I fuck wit’.”
“Well, I have similar arrangements,” Rob said. He thwacked Jaekwan’s cock around his face. “I’m not going to be sticking around here. I’ll call you up when I’m in the area.”
“Like a bootycall?”
“If you like.”
He frowned. He watched his dick disappear down Rob’s throat. “Yo, man, you prolly know lots of rich people, right?” Rob nodded without taking his dick out of his throat. “You should give ‘em my number. Tell ‘em I got good nigga dick. Tell ‘em five hundred dollars but I can negotiate. No, wait, tell ‘em I don’t negotiate, but like… hint that I might. But don’t hint toward any rich ones. You know rich folk? Don’t give ‘em an amount. I’ll say-“
“Jaekwan, shush,” Rob said. He slurped up the precum starting to leak out of Jaekwan’s piss-slit, despite the fact that Jaekwan was seemingly not paying attention to what Rob was doing.
“Man…” Jaekwan sucked on his teeth.
“I don’t know any one who would pay you-“
“You know girls who pay for sex? I’ll be a gigolo. I’ll fuck fat chicks, no problem. Old chicks too, I don’t care. I’ll do it. Hundred bucks. Plus expenses, if they want me to take ‘em out to dinner or somethin’.” He beamed like this was an act of charity he should be commended for. “I eat pussy real good too. See?”
Rob sighed. He kept stroking Jaekwan’s dick with one hand, while Jaekwan pulled out his cell phone. He played a video for Rob, showing Jaekwan eating some woman’s pussy. Jaekwan was holding the camera as it recorded and as he licked her vagina, so it was a blurry, poorly-shot video. It was held so close it looked like some alien creature gave birth to a full-grown man but his tongue got stuck.
“See? Look, man, I eat pussy so good.”
Rob rolled his eyes. “Jaekwan, quit it. I don’t know any women who will pay you for sex.”
“I’ll give ‘em the first time for free,” he said. Rob just ignored him though. Rob decided to move on. He turned around, dropped his pants and bent over. He stuck his ass high in the air. Jaekwan’s voice trailed off as he looked at Rob’s tight bottom. “Shit…”
“You ready?”
He wedged his thick dick between Rob’s cheeks. There was a moment of merciful silence, which seemed spookily sepulchral in the high-ceilinged warehouse. The tip of his dick slid in, and Rob grunted.
“Oh!” Jaekwan slapped Rob’s asscheek. “I got an idea. You like nigga dick, right? I know all kinda niggas. You gimme a hundred bucks per nigga, I can send you like a million of ‘em. You gonna be drownin’ in nut-“
“Jaekwan, stop-“
“I could send you like twenty of ‘em tonight. Like all them warehouse dudes-“
“I don’t have a black-guy fetish.”
“What?”
“I won’t just mess with any black guy,” Rob said, panting cuz of the pressure in his ass. “I think you are desirable. You, personally. None of the other warehouse guys.”
He looked taken aback, like he hadn’t thought Rob was capable of showing discretion. He stood there with just the first half-an-inch of his dick in Rob’s ass. “Oh. Well, what kinda black guys you like? I can send you ‘em. You want big dicks? I’ll measure dicks, I don’t care. I can do that. Shit, us warehouse niggas all gangbanged this chick last year. I saw most of they dicks then, and Jerome Nicklebee accidentally shot most of his nut on my shoulder-“
“I don’t like them!” Rob shouted. “C’mon, Jaekwan, you gotta cornhole me. I don’t like the other warehouse guys.”
“Not even Malik Jumper? He got a six-pack, swear to God-“
“No!” Rob had no idea if he had seen Malik before, but he didn’t want to talk about this anymore.
Jaekwan grumbled. “Man… you ain’t nice. I know all kinda niggas.” He drilled his dick in a little deeper. “I can hook you up wit’ any nigga you want. We can go drivin’, you pick someone out, on Center Street, there’s always tons of niggas there, most of ‘em shirtless in summertime. I don’t know ‘em all, but you gimme two hundred bucks, I’ll find ‘em. Don’t tell them how much you payin’ me, cuz I’ll only give them fifty bucks-“
“Jaekwan, stop it. I’m not giving you any money for anything besides cornholing me right now. That means you gotta stop talking about other stuff. You gotta focus on cornholing me. You gotta earn your money.”
Jaekwan let out an annoyed growl. “Fine.” He pumped his hips, gradually shoving more of his dick in. At first it hurt — he was in a bad mood and didn’t try to make it feel good, then he remembered he was being paid and he made long, slow, smooth motions with his hips. “That feel good, baby?” His voice was seductive, like he was talking to a girl.
“Hmm… Yeah…” Rob backed his ass up until he felt Jaekwan’s pubic hair and crotch on his ass. He moaned, which made Jaekwan laugh like a cocky bastard.
Jaekwan wrapped one arm around Rob’s face. His father had told him that you should put men in a chokehold when you cornhole them, so that was what he did. It was gross because he was so sweaty — the air conditioning was off, so it was getting hot in the warehouse — but Jaekwan didn’t mind the sweat.
He went down to the ground with Rob. His shirt was over his head, his pants around his ankles. Jaekwan pounded away at Rob’s ass, his bare chest pressing down on Rob’s back.
He stopped moving with his cock all the way in Rob. “Hey. Do you smoke weed? You want weed? I can get you great weed. Or coke. Or Ecstasy, man, I do it all. You want pills? I can get fent, or-“
“No,” Rob said through gritted teeth.
“Damn it… I thought rich guys did lots of drugs.”
“Jaekwan. If you’re going to cornhole me, please focus on cornholing me,” Rob said. He grunted. The pressure in his ass was intense. It felt good too, but it was hard to have a conversation right now. He was ensconced in Jaekwan’s powerful arms.
“Oh. Yeah.” He sounded like he had forgotten his dick was in Rob’s ass. He slammed all the way in and out, grinding his cock deeply into Rob’s tight hole. “Shit, you got a nice ass…”
“You have an amazing cock…” Rob said.
“I know! You should pay me more, man, that’s what-“
“Shut up,” Rob said through gritted teeth.
Jaekwan sighed and kept going. He grumbled to himself as he went, and he tightened his grip on Rob’s arm. The one nice thing about sticking men, he thought, was that they didn’t complain about going at them too hard. A girl would have made him slow down by now.
He was about to ask if Rob needed any work done on his car — Jaekwan was a pretty good mechanic — when an orgasm erupted deep within him. Jaekwan slapped Rob’s ass and pounded him into the ground. He didn’t even notice Rob shoot his own load all over the concrete floor.
Cum sprayed into Rob’s ass. Jaekwan, even though he had just fucked a couple hours ago, shot a massive wad of cum. It just kept flowing, filling Rob’s ass up, until hot, creamy cum seeped into every corner of his flesh.
“Goddamn…” Jaekwan said. He took a deep breath. Aftershocks of his orgasm ran through him. “Yo, man… You got a car?”
Rob heard his question but was too overwhelmed by his own climax to answer. He just shuddered and moaned. Gradually Jaekwan pulled out of his ass, asking the same question again and again. One final long flow of jizz seeped into Rob’s guts, and Rob sighed as aftershocks of his orgasm wracked his body.
“You got a car, man? Huh? I can fix it. I can do anything, man, swear to God. I’m good with cars,” he said. He pulled out and Rob sighed. Jaekwan stayed on top of him, his dick leaking a few more drops of cum onto Rob’s asscheeks. He whispered into Rob’s ear. “Huh? How’s your car?”
“It’s fine. I don’t need any work,” Rob said. Then he smiled. “I’ll give you an extra hundred bucks if you kiss me. With tongue.”
Jaekwan made a face like he would never do that. But then, without another word, he turned his head to the side and kissed Rob right on the lips. His tongue plunged in. It was rather awkward and unpracticed. Jaekwan felt a few stray mustache hairs on Rob’s mostly smooth face, and that made it difficult for Jaekwan to forget he was with a man. The kiss reawakened the sparks of bliss from Jaekwan’s cock, and Rob’s whole body twisted as intense sensations roiled his petite frame.
Finally he was done. Jaekwan sniffled like it was no big deal. He got up and wiped his dick off. “You best pay me, man.”
Rob nodded. He got out his smartphone and arranged a direct transfer into Jaekwan’s bank account.
“Hey, you like Mexicans? I can hook you up with this cholo I know. He’ll rob you, so don’t bring no cash. But he’ll cornhole you first,” Jaekwan said as Rob got dressed. “I’ll tell him not to beat you up. I know buncha Mexicans. Most of ‘em got tiny dicks though.”
Rob ignored him. He just went to his car. There were only two cars in the parking lot, so it was obvious which one was Jaekwan’s. Jaekwan frowned at him.
“Come on, man. He’s great, you’ll like him,” Jaekwan said. “Hey. You think about it. Call me, man.”
“See you later, Jaekwan.” Rob got in his car.
“Yeah! You can lick my asshole!” Jaekwan called out as Rob pulled away. “Uh… Six hundred dollars.” He saw Rob laughing through the driver’s side window, so Jaekwan thought he had guessed wrong. “Twenty bucks!” The last thing he did was pull his sagging jeans down and display his bare brown ass for Rob in the rear-view mirror.
Rob watched his ass get smaller as he drove away. He giggled. He didn’t normally mess around with guys more than once, but Jaekwan was very alluring. He couldn’t resist.
He might wait to run this company into the ground until he had gotten everything he could out of Jaekwan.

The Plumber

Rob hires a plumber with a body to die for and an ex-wife he can’t stand. Luckily Rob is there to help him out with a soft touch, an open mouth and a willing ass!
Can Rob get his plumbing fixed at last?

Read it now as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Rob had never seen a pleasant plumber. They were always fat and gross in his experience, like a sour frog mated with a rejected hog. So when Dino showed up, his knees went weak. Rob stood there at the front door, quaking like a child.
Dino was a tall, broad-shouldered man, with swarthy skin betraying his Greek heritage, though his accent had the baritone stawk of an American man. He had a dense mop of curly black hair that extended in an unruly mess all the way to his shoulders, not that he had a long hairstyle — he had a short hairstyle that was overgrown enough to cover his nape. He wore a tight wifebeater, much too small for his expansive frame, and a thick layer of curly black hair extruded from beneath it.
He had a surly look about him. A lot of people would have seen him as rude — quite accurately — but Rob didn’t care. Rudeness didn’t bother Rob. Meanness did. Some people had forgotten there was a difference. Rob thought that difference was the most important fact that was largely unknown and unspoken of.
It was a simple job, and it only took a few hours. Rob went away to surf the web. It was difficult to distract himself, and he kept getting hard thinking about Dino there under the sink. Dino was sprawled out, head in the under-sink cabinet, long thick legs stretched across the kitchen floor.
“What?” Dino’s angry voice spat out. It was deep and resonant.
Rob was flush with fear. Had he angered Dino? Had he offended him? He wasn’t even in the same room. He cautiously crept into the kitchen.
“I told you about that.” Dino said. His fingers gripped the cell phone tight as he held it to his ear, rolling out from the undersink cabinet. The wide nostrils of his fat nose flared. His shoulder muscles rippled beneath the wifebeater that was now sweaty and marked with grease. He stood up and paced in the kitchen. “I told you — baby, look, I said I’d pay for it, right? So — so just fuckin’ wait for it! Don’t tell me not to curse at you, you’ve been cursing at me since the moment I answered the phone! Well fuck you, I told you about that and you dumped me, so it’s none of your business, you fat stupid cow!”
He hung up the phone and nearly slammed it on the counter but stopped himself at the last moment. He tossed it into his toolbox instead, then he roared and shadowboxed the air, his face ruddy and his hands tightened into fists.
“Sorry about that,” he said. “That was my bitch ex-wife. She’s such a fucking whore. You know she’s makin’ me pay for my daughter’s makeup? I don’t even think she should be wearing makeup yet, she’s only thirteen. I said no. I threw it all away into the garbage. But I don’t get a say, I just have to pay for it.” His face was red and he paced in Rob’s tiny kitchen. He stopped and looked at Rob. “Sorry. She’s just… She’s being a bitch. Wants me to cough up two hundred bucks out of the blue. Like I’m fuckin’ made of money.”
“I know how you can make two hundred bucks,” Rob said with a flirtatious grin, which he hoped looked nonchalant. “Not plumbing. I mean, in addition to the plumbing.” Rob reached out to pat Dino on the belly through his wifebeater. He had so much body hair there Rob didn’t feel the firmness of his flesh, just the tangle of body hair beneath the fabric of his shirt. Dino showed no reaction. Rob said, “And if you do it the way I tell you, I’ll give you five hundred.”
He cocked his head to the side. “Do what?”
“I’ll give you a hint,” Rob said. He blushed and grabbed for the loose waistband of Dino’s jeans. He tickled the rim of his boxers, and Dino’s eyes opened wide. His muscles all tensed. “It’s long, I’m pretty sure, and thick, and it’s probably a light brown, and I’ll make it feel very good-“
“You, uh…” Dino paused. “You tryin’…?” He looked away and bit his lip.
“Yes. Exactly. I’m not big and tough like you, and I’ve read that playing with the dick of a bigger man can make me stronger. I’ll make you forget that bitch ex-wife,” Rob said. “I just want you to help me embarrass my own embarrassing former family. My dad. He’s disowned me, I like to call him sometimes and let some guy he’d think is white trash make it clear he’s made me his bitch.”
Dino blushed and laughed nervously. He covered his mouth with his face. He grabbed his crotch with his other hand. “Let’s, uh, be clear,” he said. His eyes flashed menacingly. “I ain’t gonna touch your dick. You don’t get up in my ass or nothing. I will rip yo’ face off if you even think about it.”
“No, no, nothing like that. I’ll swallow your dick. You stick me in the ass. You make a lotta noise when I call my stepdad,” Rob said with a shrug.
Dino paused. He caressed his own chest, his muscles rippling as he looked away from Rob — he found eye contact very intense and uncomfortable right now. He sighed like he was going to say yes, but then he stopped and reconsidered. He opened his mouth. He laughed again. “Aw, fuck, it’s for my daughter…”
“A noble cause,” Rob said. He gently touched Dino’s meaty but flat belly, through his wifebeater. Then he pushed one of his fingers beneath the fabric, tracing a trail through the sweaty hair there. His chest muscles rippled when Rob came into contact with them.
“You, uh, want me to take a shower first?” He asked. He raised one arm and sniffed at the pit. “I stink-“
“No!” Rob blushed and rammed his head into Dino’s hairy armpit. He suckled on the coarse, sweat-slickened hairs there, which made Dino chuckle. Normally Dino was ticklish there, but he was too shocked to react that way. He was used to people treating his sweaty, hairy body as gross — as impressive, given his muscles, but still foul-smelling and unpleasant no matter how much he washed. Dino was used to it by now, so he found it weird and off-putting to have someone actually worshiping every inch of his raunchy flesh.
“Damn, you are nasty,” Dino said with a bass chuckle, which Rob heard through the thickness of Dino’s chest.
Rob licked the flesh of Dino’s chest. He licked over Dino’s hairy pecs, lapping at the kinky hairs and sucking up all the sweat. Dino’s muscles rippled as he tensed up. He had never had a girl who was really, genuinely into his muscles and hairy body — they occasionally thought he was handsome enough, but they would have preferred he was smaller and smoother.
But Dino couldn’t do anything about that. He had been beat up too much as a kid to be willing to slim down, and anyway he was a big boy by nature. He put on muscle-weight easily, so he worked out a lot. At first he had only worked out because he wanted to look good for when he picked up chicks. He had simply overshot his goal, and he refused to change his trajectory, so he just kept getting bigger and bigger and less and less appealing to women.
He felt self-conscious and vulnerable when Rob undid his belt and dropped Dino’s heavy workpants. His cock and balls dangled. His dick had never been so limp, and he wasn’t even sure he’d be able to get hard. Finally he had the bright idea to bring up some medical-supply catalogue models on his cell phone. Hot chicks dressed as nurses usually got him going. It was close enough to pornography, if you know the right sites to look at.
Rob saw Dino take out his phone and mumble to himself as he looked up some chicks. Rob didn’t mind, he was used to servicing big alphas in need of women to get fully hard. He inhaled deeply of Dino’s musk, then swallowed his dick to the root. It was limp and soft, but as soon as it touched Rob’s tongue, it twitched.
It pulsated in Rob’s mouth. He could tell when Dino found a pic he was really into because his dick jumped and hardened. It went from soft to erect as stonehenge in seconds, and Dino groaned over Rob’s head. He began pumping his hips back and forth, gently at first but with more force with each thrust of his hips. His swollen cock rubbed on Rob’s tongue, while Rob’s hands gripped the hairy firmness of Dino’s thighs.
As the sour taste of precum overwhelmed Rob, he gurgled merrily. Dino tasted salty and sweet, and a little like seawater — his precum tasted like Rob imagined seawater did on a remote Greek island. It tasted sunny and warm and savory, and it made Rob’s mouth water as he savored the creaminess and the brine that assaulted his senses. He licked and lapped at that throbbing cock, while giggling at how it made Dino twist and writhe as though it hurt.
Really though Dino just contorted because it felt so good. His knees were weak. His body was overcome by pleasure wafting over him in waves. He wanted to grab ahold of Rob’s head and fuck his throat like a slut’s pussy. Dino rarely got the chance to cum in anyone’s mouth like that — mostly girls thought his body hair was gross enough that any kind of contact was a favor. Women disliked the way his chest hair, back hair, crotch hair, leg hair and armpit hair all kind bled together into a carpet of fur. Rob loved a hairy man. Dino’s ex-wife had made him lick her pussy without ever sucking his dick, and then when he complained, she called him a misogynist.
None of that bothered Rob in the slightest. He loved a hairy man.
His cock spewing prejizz into Rob’s mouth, Dino grunted. He was still on the page for that nursing catalogue when a call came. It bounced him off the website and those beautiful blonde nurses disappeared. He was angered, especially when he saw that it was his ex-wife again.
“Fuckin’ bitch,” he murmured to himself. He answered the phone, which required him to bend over and grab it from the toolbox he had put it away in. His hairy asscheeks loomed high in the air for just a moment. Then Dino snarled into the phone, “What?”
“You are such an asshole, Dino! You never told me about that slutty bitch at the club. It’s just like Tampa all over again-“
“It is not, you stupid bitch!” Dino screamed. “I did tell you about her, and I ain’t fuck her, and we ain’t together so it wouldn’t be any of ya bizness if I did! I don’t gotta tell you ‘bout this shit!”
“If you ever want to see your daughter, I have to be convinced you have a healthy living environment, Dino. You can’t be getting drunk with sluts.”
“I don’t do that when I have Lydia! You are one miserable bitch of a cock-sucking whore! How’s that accountant’s dick taste, huh?”
“Dino! I can’t deal with you when you’re like this. I oughta send my brother over there-“
“Go ahead, I’ll kick his ass again,” Dino said. “What do you want, Marina? I’m busy right now, I got a girl over.”
You’re not at work?
“She was one of my clients. She been beggin’ for my meat,” Dino said.
Yeah, right. You’re a pussy, Dino. And you’re a hairy fuck.
Dino whispered, “make some sounds like a girl.” Then he put the phone next to Rob’s mouth. Rob blushed but did as he was told. As he swallowed, he made loud gurgling sounds, taking care to ensure his voice was as feminine as could be.
Ew, god, Dino, did you just put the phone near your cock? That sounded disgusting. You’re disgusting. She sounds like a total slut. And she sounds fat.
“You’re disgusting, you stupid bitch,” Dino said. “I gotta go. I got my dick in a girl who’s worth a damn.” He hung up, glad he had gotten the final word for once. That rarely happened. He grinned down at Rob.
His dick throbbed in Rob’s mouth like getting the final word made his erection firmer. Now that Dino had gotten more comfortable with this whole thing, he went ahead and plowed into his throat hard. He wrapped his meaty palms around the back of Rob’s head. Rob paused to situate himself at the perfect angle to deep-throat Dino, who began grinding his dick into Rob’s gullet.
That must have sent a wave of sensations through Dino, who groaned and threw his head back when he felt the earliest tingling of his orgasm. He went slow, not wanting to blow his load so soon. He ground his dick into Rob’s throat, which spasmed and struggled to accept every inch of his load.
Dino had been raised Greek Orthodox, so he was overcome with guilt as he pounded. Dino had always thought masturbation was wrong. A man should save up his seed for the holiness of matrimonial passion. He really ought to start going to church, to prove he’s not a degenerate, but also because his ex could try to get him in legal trouble and a history of going to church would look good in court. Plus Dino’s mother would want be furious if she knew he wasn’t a churchgoer.
It didn’t seem like it should be sinful to Rob. He was just jacking off in a welcome, warm, wet hole — what could be sinful about that? The Bible didn’t forbid it. Rob pulled off Dino’s cock and slobbered on the tip. He smiled up at Dino.
“You’re gonna put on a show on my phone too, right? I wanna embarrass my dad,” Rob said.
Dino shrugged. “Fine, whatevuh.” His muscles rippled again as a shiver of pleasure ran up his body. Rob didn’t even stop servicing his cock when he pulled his own phone out of the pocket, and he didn’t let it pop out of his mouth as he scrolled through his contacts either. Finally, he dialed his dad.
When Rob gave him his phone, Dino was surprised — he assumed Rob would start the conversation. He didn’t know what to say to Rob’s father, and he was so overwhelmed by the pleasure snaking through his body that he didn’t know if he could come up with anything to say.
“Yo. Hey, Mr. Winthrop?” Dino asked, his voice wavering because the pleasure arising from his loins.
Yes. Who, may I ask, is calling? He sounded annoyed at being interrupted. Rob snickered around the cock in his mouth. He’d changed his phone number so his dad would accept his calls again, and it looked like that worked.
“Yo, uh, this is Dino. I just wanted to say thanks, for makin’ ya son. He got a nice tight throat, and my dick fits perfectly down it.”
A loud sigh came from the phone. Am I on speaker-phone? Robert, this is truly immature behavior.
“His mouth is full, sir, full of my dick. He looks good wit’ dick in his throat,” Dino said. “You wanna listen as I stick ‘im? I’m gonna stick him in the ass now.”
He grabbed Rob by the hips, and pulled him off. His dick was cold and alone, begging for attention — Rob tried to stroke it as he got in position, but Dino kept moving, making it impossible to jack him off as they arranged themselves.
Rob dropped his pants and bent over on all fours. He put the phone on the ground in front of his face, so his father could hear everything that happened.
“Hey, Dad! I’m just using my inheritance,” Rob said. “I paid Dino five hundred dollars to stick his dick in me.”
Robert… You shame me.
“I know, but you deserve it,” Rob said. He threw his head back and moaned as Dino slipped into him. There was an intense, uncontrollable pressure. He moaned again, as loud as he could, a powerful, cringing sound that resonated in the kitchen. Rob’s father groaned in disgust.
You don’t need to call me for this.
“I absolutely do!” Rob said. His voice broke as a twinge of pleasure erupted in his prostate. He pushed his ass back, squeezing every inch of Dino’s dick into him.
Now that he had started and was into the groove of it, Dino was less nervous. He was surprised by how easy this really was — Rob’s ass felt exactly like a girl’s. It helped that Rob was such a feminine man, with a bubble-butt that was smooth, clean and unblemished, not to mention tight. He writhed like a sexy snake below Dino’s firm body.
“Yo’ son is a pervert, Mr. Winthrop!” Dino called out. He cackled. “That’s my dick in his ass!”
Really, son, you are disgusting. I’m hanging up now. And then he did so.
Rob was disappointed, but he wasn’t surprised. Dad always hung up once the noise started getting really passionate; Rob liked to imagine that he sobbed once he hung up the phone, but he didn’t know if that was true or not. Rob reached behind himself to spread his asscheeks, giving Dino more access to his asshole.
With a loud roar, Dino slapped Rob’s asscheek. He held onto it tightly as he humped. When he had gotten started, Dino didn’t want to touch any more of Rob than he absolutely had to. He was worried he’d feel some body hair and remember he was deep in a man. He’d be humiliated if his dick went soft in the middle of this.
But now that he was into it, he wasn’t worried about that all. Rob’s ass felt exactly like a girl’s, and he was so smooth he put most girls to shame. Dino gripped his ass and slammed his dick all the way in.
“Take it, bitch, god-damn!”
Once he was more comfortable with it, he knew what position he wanted — no girl ever let him do it for more than a few seconds because they said he was too heavy and hairy. But Dino had long wanted to do it laying on his partner’s back.
So that was what he did. He rammed his dick until it was all the way in, and he wrapped one forearm in front of Rob’s mouth. He sighed and moaned directly into the back of Rob’s head. His sweaty, hairy chest plopped down on Rob’s back. Bliss flooded Dino’s body, making his chest muscles spasm and flex against the smoothness of Rob’s spine and shoulders.
Entirely pinned beneath the Greek giant, Rob couldn’t even squirm, due to Dino’s heavy body pressing down on his back. He couldn’t breathe either, both because of the mass of Greek muscle atop his back and because he was too overcome by passion to take a breath. The body hair scratched Rob’s smooth back and left a sheen of sweat that Rob both felt and smelled.
“Hell, bitch, slut… You take dick good, damn! You must do this a lot…”
Dino rotated his hips, moving his dick in a wide circle within Rob’s ass. He hit every corner of Rob’s insides, his cock aiming into every part of Rob’s guts. He could even tell — as disgusting as it was — when his dick touched Rob’s prostate because it made Rob writhe beneath his body. He couldn’t move much, but Dino could feel his body struggle to squirm, and he sensed the pleasure roiling Rob’s innards.
Rob gasped, and Dino grunted.
Finally Dino felt his orgasm coming on strong. Rob had stopped breathing, the pressure in his ass so intense he couldn’t even gasp. Dino snorted like a hog, the sound of his rutting filling the air and echoing in Rob’s ears. Spasm of pleasure wracked both men’s bodies, which made Dino’s muscles ripple while Rob gaspingly pressed his back into Dino’s hairy chest.
“Here I go, baby, gonna fill you up, I love you so much, sweetheart-” Dino stopped and blushed because he remembered he wasn’t talking to a female. Luckily Rob either didn’t hear his words or didn’t take them seriously.
A wad of hot cum sprayed into Rob’s ass. Dino groaned loudly, his deep voice resonant and rough like sandpaper. His cum was hot and creamy, and it seeped into Rob’s flesh. Rob moaned as he shot his own load onto the floor and into his hand. Dino wrinkled his nose in disgust — he hadn’t known Rob was pleasuring himself — but he didn’t stop Rob even if it seemed disrespectful. Dino had been raised to believe a real man commanded respect, and he didn’t let his bitch distract him.
But this was too potent an orgasm to do anything while it still coursed through his veins. Dino’s hands curled into claws, then tightened into fists. He smacked Rob, not outright punching him of course, but hitting him in an affectionate way — or at least he saw it as affectionate; Rob saw it as bullying, but he was so aroused by it so he didn’t complain — harder than he would have ever hit a girl. More and more jizz jetted into Rob, until he was drenched inside and couldn’t even feel if it was still happening. But he could still feel Dino’s thickness throbbing within him, as cream and santorum dripped out between his legs.
He burped and laughed. Any girl would have kicked him out of bed for burping in their face, but Rob inhaled deeply of it and moaned. Dino screwed his nose up in disgust. His cock slowly limpened, but he remained in position, deep in Rob’s ass, his heavy body pressing down on Rob’s back.
“You ain’t gonna stiff me, is you?” Dino asked. It hadn’t occurred to him before now that Rob could just refuse to pay him, and Dino would have no recourse. He should have demanded money upfront. His dick still lay in Rob’s ass, its pulsations sending waves of pleasure up his spine.
“No. I won’t. I’ve got cash in my wallet,” Rob said, his voice strained and clipped. He bit his lip and moaned.
Dino nodded and moved to get up. When he did, his dick swam through the sea of cum that gurgled within Rob’s ass. He could feel the sticky fluid clinging to his soft cockflesh. Rivulets of jizz slid out Rob’s behind and onto the floor.
“Wait,” Rob said. “Can you stay there for a moment? I like feeling you inside me.”
“Fine,” Dino said with a grunt. It now felt pretty gross — this was more what he had imagined it would feel like before he started. He was intimately aware with every passing moment that he was inside a man’s ass. There was no way to pretend he was with a woman, not now. He reached out and grabbed Rob’s pants. “In here?”
“Yeah.” Rob’s voice was weak and wavery.
Dino pulled out the wallet. He briefly considered stealing Rob’s credit cards, but he figured someone as wealthy as Rob probably had excellent security on the cards, and Dino didn’t want to get in any legal trouble, as he might lose the right to see his daughter at all. He pulled out the cash — there was six hundred dollars in there. He took it all, though he had only been promised five hundred dollars.
“I’m taking six hundred dollars. The extra hundred bucks is for the performance I put on for your daddy,” Dino said. He pulled his dick out of Rob’s ass. “And you still gotta pay for the sink too.”
“Okay,” Rob said with a sigh. He turned around and frotted his dick with Dino’s much bigger, caramel-colored shaft. He smushed them both together.
Dino sneered. “That’s nasty, that’s nasty,” he said. But he let it continue for a few seconds, looking away. “I ain’t do no circle-jerkin’ since I was a merchant marine.” He glanced at Rob’s curious face. “When I lived in Greece, I was a merchant marine. Ain’t no females around, just a buncha A-rabs, and they do, y’know…” His cheeks turned red. “They do circle-jerkin’. I ain’t wanna.” He laughed. “But I did.” He finally put his cock away.
“Thanks, Dino,” Rob said. “You’re a great plumber.”

Jail Intake

Greg got drunk last night, so when he wakes up, he’s under arrest and being processed by the legendary cruel alpha-male bully Officer Awful! He’s in for a hardcore tale of domination, submission and utter humiliation!

Read it now as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Greg was still drunk, but he felt serious now. It had all seemed like a big joke when he was being arrested. He laughed the whole time. But he had been left in the little waiting area for what felt like hours, and the silence and the solitude made him realize he was in big trouble. It was just some drunk-in-public stuff, but he had gotten into it with the cop — into it hard — and they were going to hit him with resisting arrest, assaulting an officer, destruction of property and who even knew what else! Greg was fucked.
Now at last a bulky cop with a shit-eating grin came to get him. That wasn’t the simpering little nerd-looking cop who arrested Greg for public drunkenness. This man had an air of authority.
“Good evening, Mister Hardesty, my name is Officer Auffernan. Some people call me Officer Awful. I don’t condone that,” he said. He held up one hand as though he was testifying in court. “But I don’t forbid it. I’m gonna process you into jail tonight. Now unfortunately our only judge for the weekend has gone home, so you’re going to have wait to be arraigned on Monday.”
“For public drunk’ness?” Greg hiccuped, still slightly drunk.
“I’ll tell you when the time for questions has come,” Officer Auffernan said. “And you should address me as sir.”
“Uh… yes, sir.”
“Hmm, thank you, Mister Hardesty. I’m going to start calling you ‘fuckweasel’. Will that trigger anything in you? Was ya mama raped by a weasel or something like that? Good.” He didn’t give Greg a chance to say anything. Officer Auffernan frowned down at Greg like a disgusting species of frog. “Now what I’m going to do next is punch you right in the belly, as hard as I can.” He lowered his head to look Greg in the eye. Greg blanched, but Officer Auffernan held his head in place. “But don’t you worry, there is a valid penological reason for it.”
Then there was an explosion of pain, so fast that Greg didn’t even realize it had happened until he was already on the floor, clutching his belly. He cried out and twitched so hard his head banged into the wall.
“Now get up and take ya clothes off. I need to search you for contraband. If you is bringin’ contraband into my jail, I will rock ya fuckin’ world, fuckweasel.”
But Greg could do nothing more than groan and squirm. He tried to stagger to his feet, but he was at a loss for breath. He hoarsely squeaked out a gasp, and he managed only to kneel on one foot.
“I said get up and take ya clothes off, fuckweasel!”
Every move he made was arduous. Greg let out a sob and a cry of pain as Officer Auffernan got down real close. He shouted like a drill instructor, his spit splashing onto Gary’s face.
“Take your clothes off, fuckweasel, right now, or I swear to God I will shove this entire jail up your asshole!”
Even as Greg started to unbutton his shirt, fumbling from both pain and terror, Officer Awful kept his face so near his breath condensed on Gary’s cheeks. “Hurry up, fuckweasel. I’ve got a nice hard cot with your name on it. You are gonna regret every day you ever breathed air on this planet, you are gonna feel like a mule rented by a red-headed stepchild if you don’t hurry your stupid ass up, boy. Do you think I am playing with you? Huh? Do you?”
“No! No!” Greg gasped. One of the buttons flew off his shirt, which ripped as he tore it off himself. He threw it on the floor.
Officer Awful pushed Greg over as he tried to drop his pants, and he fell to the ground. “Hurry up, fuckweasel!”
“I’m trying!” Greg ripped the fly of his jeans trying to get them off, as he sobbed into the linoleum floor. It was cold and felt wet, in a vaguely urinal-y way that churned Greg’s stomach. Humiliation rose up in him. He didn’t know how his life was turning out this way. He wasn’t this kind of guy — he wasn’t a criminal, a bad boy.
Was it the alcohol? Greg didn’t think of himself as an alcoholic. He didn’t drink every day. Well… not every day. There was a day a couple months ago… Greg somehow got his pants off over his shoes, which he kicked off as he squirmed on the moist linoleum.
“Alright, fuckweasel.” He grabbed Gary’s hair. His clothes were off, and he lay flat, panting, on the floor. Officer Awful grinned, revealing dimpled cheeks, like he woulda been handsome if he weren’t so craggy and worn. “I’m gonna tell you something in just a second. You should know that I’m telling you this as a friend — or a potential friend — this is not in my position as an officer and representative of the state government.” He took a deep breath as though confiding a great and vital secret. “Here it is: you should beg me to spit in ya mouth. It would make things go easier if you do that, as a gesture of submissive goodwill.”
“What?”
Greg doubled over again as Officer Awful punched him once more in the gut. He was already on the floor, but he now could not get up. Spasms of pain wracked his body.
“No questions!”
Greg gasped for air. He tried to apologize but couldn’t.
“Get up, now, fuckweasel!” Officer Awful mock-kicked him — kicking his foot but stopping it just centimeters from Gary’s body, so Greg flinched and wept each time. He buried his face in his arms. “Gonna turn ya head into my soccer ball, fuckweasel, if you don’t get up.”
When Greg could do little more than crawl, Officer Awful deemed that good enough and opened the door to the next little locked corridor in the jail. Crawling was the most humiliating experience in Greg’s life. His bare ass poked up high in the air, and his knees ached, his stomach ached, everything ached. He wanted to puke, run, cry and hide all at once.
“Please, uh… what, uh…you can do that, uh, spitting thing, just let me up-“
“Don’t you speak like that to me, fuckweasel. If you want something, you address me like a man, as sir, and you plan your words before you open ya mouth. None of this uh or ah business. That’s for girls and pansies, and I don’t see tits or petals on you.”
“Okay, please…” Greg found it difficult to be blunt and not say uh. “Please, you can spit in my mouth-“
‘I know I can. That ain’t what I told you as a friend,” he said. “Wasn’t you payin’ attention? I was tryin’ to be helpful.”
“Please spit in my mouth!”
He smiled again, and took off his sheriff’s hat. “Why, don’t mind if I do.” He hunkered down real close to Greg and hocked up a loogie into his mouth. It was clotty and thick, and it smelled like a doorknob. He spoke moistly as he gathered up spit in his mouth, making Gary’s stomach churn. “In my jail, we call this a ‘bitch-kiss’. It’s how a prison top makes his bottom know his place.” He let loose with another giant wad of saliva and phlegm that plopped in Gary’s mouth.
Greg choked and tried to spit it out, but Officer Awful grabbed him by the neck, squeezing tight enough that he nearly lifted Greg off the ground. Greg squealed and sputtered. Officer Awful spat again, directly into Gary’s mouth, then again. His lips were so close they nearly kissed.
“You feel it, fuckweasel? Ya feel how intimate this is?” He paused and hocked up a loogie in his mouth. He forced himself to couch to fill his mouth even more. He very moistly said, “You my bitch now, fuckweasel. I’m gonna make you open up and suck up the spit in my mouth now. It’s gonna taste real nasty, but you’re gonna choke it down while I watch. You ready?”
Greg shook his head.
“Tough…” He squeezed Gary’s cheeks until his mouth opened, and then a massive mouthful of spit and fluids landed in Gary’s mouth. He still hadn’t swallowed what was already there, so his mouth was overflowing now. Saliva flooded his face from his forehead to his chin, both Officer Awful’s and Gary’s own.
Officer Awful very slowly forced Gary’s mouth closed. “Swallow, fuckweasel. Swallow…” He massaged Gary’s neck like he was forcing a dog to swallow a pill.
Greg gagged and retched, but Officer Awful kept his mouth close and Greg could do nothing but choke back the gags emanating out of his raging stomach. He kept one arm curled over his belly as though to keep it all in. Finally he had quelled the nausea, though he could still taste snot in his mouth.
Before he could recover, Officer Awful dragged him into the next room. A handful of other officers were visible through the windows here, watching and laughing. Greg couldn’t hear them, but he could see their faces light up when they saw him. The nerdy-looking officer who had arrested Greg was there as well, leering at him. They all cheered when Greg let out a choked sob.
“Can… Can I say I’m sorry?” Greg asked. He nodded to the nerdy officer. “Can I apologize to him? I was rude to him before, last night. And… I might have hit him, I don’t remember-“
He doubled over in pain as Officer Awful punched him in the gut again. Through the soundproof glass, the watching officers laughed and cheered.
“You got freedom of speech, fuckweasel. You can always apologize. Jail rules say you can’t ask no questions, that’s why I had to punch you,” he said. “They can hear you through the loudspeaker.”
“Uh… I’m sorry, Officer… Uh… I don’t know your name-“
“Boy, what did I tell you about sayin’ uh?”
“I’m sorry!”
“Well, I appreciate your apology, fuckweasel, and yes, you were quite rude to my fellow officer last night. You said some very hurtful things. Words are weapons, doncha know. So, despite ya ‘pology, you still gotta spend a weekend with me. Don’t worry. I’m sure we gonna be real good friends,” Officer Awful said. “Do you enjoy gettin’ gutpunched?” He did so again, even harder this time, making Greg double over and gasp for air. His flat belly was crying out in pain. He could there was gonna be a huge colorful bruise there tomorrow.
“C’mon…”
“This is not the time for begging. This jail has a begging period every day, please save it for then,” Awful said. Then he directed Greg to stand over the drain in one end of the room, with his legs and arms spread, leaning against the wall. Greg’s bare ass dimpled and jiggled. It was cold in this room.
“Are you gonna…?” Greg wanted to ask if Officer Awful was going to cornhole him. That’s what it felt like in this position. But he couldn’t ask questions. “This position is… it feels like you’re going to cornhole me.”
“Oh. Do you want me to ram you up the asshole til ya buttcheeks fall off? Keep your head still, fuckweasel.” Officer Awful was doing something, getting some piece of equipment ready, but all Greg could see was the wall in front of him. Or was Awful taking off his belt?
“No, don’t! Don’t do that!”
“What was that? Are you begging me to ram you? If you really want me to, I’ll consider it later, fuckweasel. It’s technically against the rules though. Close your eyes,” he said. Then there was a cloud of white powder in the air. Greg coughed and sputtered. Officer Awful made him turn around and covered him in more of the acrid white powder. “Turn back around.”
Greg hacked as he tried to get his breath. His stomach still hurt from being punched, and his drunken headache was getting worse. He could tell — even though he couldn’t hear or see them — that Officer Martin and the other cops in the next room were laughing at him.
Water sprayed onto his back. It was ice-cold, and it made Gary’s balls crawl up in his sac. He gasped and twitched.
“Stay still, fuckweasel!”
The water was so cold Greg couldn’t breathe. His skin tightened up, and his stomach dropped. Officer Awful made him bend backover, sticking his ass in the air. He sprayed water from the hose directly onto Gary’s asshole, which hurt so bad Greg screamed. He clawed at the wall of the tiny room.
Finally the water turned off, and Officer Awful dragged Greg away, into the next room once more. Greg tried to get on his feet, but Officer Awful didn’t give him a chance to. Greg was naked and wet, so he kept slipping and couldn’t even crawl for more than a few feet, he kept collapsing as Awful kicked him and dragged him over the floor.
“Please!” Greg cried out, then clamped his mouth shut lest he start begging again, outside of the designated begging time. He wondered if there was really a designated begging time.
He was dragged over the linoleum floor, naked and wet, dizzy, nauseous. He begged, but Officer Awful barked at him to be silent every time he said anything, so all he could do was pant.
As it turned out, the next room was a medical examination. There wasn’t much to it though — Officer Awful tossed him up onto the cushioned chair and rammed his finger into Gary’s ass so fast Greg hadn’t even finishing sitting down before he felt that finger wiggling inside him.
“Let’s take a walk,” Officer Awful said. “I wanna make sure I search all up in you, and that means you gotta move. Shift your contraband around.”
“I. Don’t. Have. Any,” Greg said, gritting his teeth through the pain. He forced himself to take a step, then another, but every move he made sent waves of agony through his body.
At least he reached the doorway, and Officer Awful gave him a shove. He stumbled forward, Officer Awful moving with him and that finger stayed in his asshole the entire time.
Those other cops were there in the next room, watching and cheering as Greg stammered. He couldn’t even think about a plan because of the pain in his ass.
“Wreck him! Wreck him! Wreck him!”
“Put him on his knees, Auffernan!”
Officer Awful moved his finger like a fishhook, pointing down, and in order to alleviate the pain, Greg lowered himself. Soon he was on his knees on the ground. Officer Awful at last removed his finger.
But the relief was short-lived because he shoved his finger in Gary’s mouth. Greg gagged at the assy taste, but his head was jammed against a wall.
Then before Greg could even get his bearings or stop gagging, his mouth was pried open. He knew what was coming, but it was still shocking to feel that fleshy, rubbery limp cock slide onto his tongue. He choked all over again. Officer Awful let his dick slide out of the fly of his uniform slacks, ramming as much of it as he could fit into Gary’s mouth.
“You got contraband in yer throat, fuckweasel? Huh? If you do, I’ll find it, swear to God, and I will ram you so hard yer mama gonna feel it,” Officer Awful said. “Now listen here.” He rammed his cock in as far as it would go, maybe halfway in, as it started to stiffen up. “My pops always said you ain’t ram a fuckweasel’s throat hard enough till there’s tears comin’ out of his fuckweasel eyes and there’s ballsweat dripping from his fuckweasel chin. Ya feel me, fuckweasel? You had better swallow enough of my dick to rub my balls on your chin.”
Greg was dizzy, and he choked so hard it hurt his stomach, but with Officer Awful’s cock in his throat, he couldn’t do anything but squirm. The wall was hard and stubbly, scratching against his skin as he moved up and down. It was iron-hard, pressing at his throat like a battering ram.
Finally Officer Awful backed off to let him have a breath. Greg collapsed to the ground, but he had no sooner taken a breath before he was on the floor on his back. Officer Awful pushed him into position, then kneeled over his face so that his balls plopped on Gary’s nose.
“You had best loosen up that throat boy, or there is gonna be some consequences. You won’t like ’em one bit,” he said. Then he bent over Gary’s body like he was doing a push-up. He pointed his dick into Gary’s mouth and slammed down with all his weight.
Greg choked once more. He had never regained his breath, and now his throat was sore even before that massive cock pushed in. But Officer Awful was relentless. He pivoted his hips, laughing as Gary’s throat gradually lost its resistance.
Soon Officer Awful’s balls rested on Gary’s nose and eyes. Gary’s whole world went white, and at first he thought it was cum, that Officer Awful had finally shot his wad. But no, he just lost consciousness for a few seconds.
When he went limp, Officer Awful pulled up and out of his mouth. He patted Greg on the back of the head and chuckled as he hoarsely gasped. “There you go, you did it, hoss, good boy,” he said. “That means I am gonna ram you in the ass, but just one time. And then… well, if you be good, I just might let you go. Got it?”
He nodded.
“See, now you answered me without using words, fuckweasel. I don’t like that,” he said. “Not at all.”
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry!” Greg squealed and sobbed. “I do understand. I’ll do whatever you want.”
“I know… Get on your back, lift your feet in the air,” Officer Awful said. He got on his knees. Greg was terrified, and he especially didn’t want to take that massive dick up the ass in this position. But of course, he didn’t have any choice.
“I like rammin’ like this cuz it hurts my bitch,” Officer Awful said as though that was a good rationale. “Plus it lets me finish with a punch and a choke, so you’ll have that to look forward to.”
Greg tried to think of a way to ask what that meant without asking a question, but he had a feeling he knew the answer. Officer Awful smirked at him. He spat on Gary’s face again, and as Greg winced and gagged, he drilled his cock in.
He lightly smacked Greg on the cheek. “I’m in you now, bitch. Guess how many inches you got in ya.”
“Uh… I-“
He smacked Greg harder, and Greg groaned. “What did I tell you about saying uh?”
“You said not to. I apologize. It hurts…”
“Guess how many inches you got in you?”
“Three?” Greg had no idea, it was just a random guess.
“Wrong. Gimme yer hand,” he said. He didn’t wait. He grabbed Gary’s hand and brought it forward to his ass. The movement made the pain worse. He touched Officer Awful’s cock with one hand. There was still a whole lot of cockmeat to go. “Feel that? You only got like a half-inch in your ass.” Greg could hear deep male voices laughing from the other room — the officer who arrested him, maybe more cops too, they were over there laughing as he endured unimaginable agony.
“Yes, sir, Officer Awful.”
“Now start chanting, thank you big brother, can I have another? You got that? Keep sayin’ it ‘till I get all my dick in ya,” he said.
“Thank you big brother, can I have another! Thank you big brother, can I have another! Thank you big brother, can I have another! Thank you big brother, can I have another!” Greg shouted it at first with nothing happening, but then Officer Awful started to ram his dick in between each chant. “Thank you big brother, can I have another!” Over and over again, he pumped his hips in the silence between chants. And each time, that caused mind-blowing agony in Gary’s asshole. “Thank you big brother, can I have another!”
It continued for what felt like forever. Greg didn’t know how he managed to do it, but eventually he felt that heavy hand close over his mouth.
“Shut up, fuckweasel,” he said with a groan. “I’m all way in you now. You’re my property. Say that.”
“I’m Officer… Officer Awful’s property,” Greg said. He bit his lip and threw his head back. The pain was excruciating, and it quickly got worse as Officer Awful began to gyrate his hips back and forth.
His balls slapped against Gary’s asshole. He wrapped his arms around Gary’s ankles and pressed them close to his muscular chest. His cock throbbed deep in Gary’s ass, which squeezed and churned. He clawed at Officer Awful’s chest, but to no avail. Awful was built like a bear, and he rammed like a stallion.
“Beg me to cum. Come on, be like a porno chick, man. Improvise a little,” Officer Awful said. He spat in Gary’s mouth as soon as he opened up to speak.
“Please… Cum in me… I want your cum inside me…” Greg said through his tears of pain and humiliation. That massive cock drilled into him, back and forth, demolishing his ass, regardless of how Greg squirmed or his hole clenched. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry I was rude and drunk… Please fill me up with your cum… Please-“
He was cut off because all of a sudden Officer Awful’s hands slapped Greg’s cheeks. He then squeezed Gary’s throat, hard enough to choke him, and his other hand formed a fist. It hovered above Gary’s face.
Greg tried to scream, but he choked, so all he could do was tighten and spasm. His whole body shook. His asshole clenched around Officer Awful’s cock.
Just when he thought the pain couldn’t get any worse, Officer Awful finally punched him right in the nose. Gary screamed in pain, as Officer Awful let go of his neck and Greg let out a series of hoarse sobs. That cascade of sensations inside Gary’s body was what sent Officer Awful over the edge.
“Cummin’ up in you now, boy, you in the home stretch…”
He gasped. Greg screamed. That spectacled officer, still watching outside the room, clapped and cheered. Cum sprayed into Gary’s ass, deep, hot and creamy. It stuck to his flesh and seeped into him like mud. He choked and gagged even though nothing was in his mouth.
“Hell yeah, fuckweasel, you got a nice ass,” Officer Awful said with a sigh. “Had a nice ass.” His cock spasmed inside Greg, sending more thick wads of cum inside him. It was a massive wad, it felt like, gobs of it spreading to every corner of Greg’s insides. He felt the heat seeping into him.
Then at last, Officer Awful withdrew his dick. The most incredible relief of his life flooded Greg, who closed his eyes. He shuddered, a frisson running up his spine. He didn’t want to ever open his eyes again.
That meant he didn’t see when Officer Awful scooted forward, reached for his mouth to open it and ram his dick inside. The taste of ass and cum intermixed in Gary’s mouth, making him retch and gag so hard his stomach hurt. The shame of tasting his own ass on another man’s dick flooded Gary, and the only consolation was that he was crying too hard to see what he was doing or how many cops were laughing at him.
“Clean up your mess, fuckweasel,” Officer Awful said. He swiped his dick over Gary’s face, making him lick every inch of the shaft, tracing every vein, as Officer Awful moaned and curdled above him. The taste was foul and sickening, and Greg couldn’t stop gagging, both from disgust and from the shame of those other cops watching him at his lowest.
Finally he was done. Officer Awful pulled away, stood and pulled his pants back up. He straightened his uniform. When Greg moaned and tried to stand, he kicked him in the thigh and Greg collapsed to the ground.
“Stay here,” Officer Awful said. “Now that I’m done checking you in, it’s time to show you to your cell. Don’t worry, I promise I won’t do that again and again all weekend.”
“You said… you’d let me go…”
“I said I’d consider it. And, I am going to let you go, eventually,” he said. He winked at Greg. “But you still got punishment coming to you.”

The Raunchy Hobo

Lance has to go into the ghetto to buy coke, which makes him nervous. But when his dealer is hassled by a muscle-bound hobo, Lance gets the chance for a raunchy and filthy threesome that he’ll never forget!

Can he handle the utter depravity he craves?!

Read it now as an ebook! Or read the whole thing here!

Lance normally preferred to meet Tyrell in a public place, somewhere near Lance’s home but not at home. That’s because Tyrell was a thug who often bragged to Lance of how good he was at robbing idiot white boys who wanted to buy crack off him. Lance bought cocaine but he was white, so he felt vulnerable. Whenever he said that, Tyrell always said, oh, but you safe, Lance. I ain’t gonna hurtchoo. You my best customer. You never ask me for a short like a fucking crackhead.
And every time Lance heard that, and every time he had another tense buy with Tyrell, when he felt certain Tyrell was going to rob him or maybe just kill him for fun, Lance swore he’d find a new coke dealer. But coke dealers were so damn unreliable. Every single time Lance met someone, he’d do one test buy, get a short bag that was badly cut, and he’d go back to Tyrell again.
Tyrell was, at least, reliable. And it would be rational not to rob Lance, who made good money and bought coke regularly. Tyrell didn’t want to kill his cash cow. Hopefully.
So that was who Lance relied on when he needed cocaine for his friend’s housewarming party. Lance was known as “the guy who brought coke”, and he didn’t want to live down his reputation. This time, however, Tyrell said he couldn’t leave the city, so Lance needed to come to his place.
It wasn’t his home though — Tyrell met him in a ramshackle rundown house, with caution tape over the door (Tyrell told him to ignore that and just come in). When he walked in, the house smelled of cobwebs and piss. Tyrell stood there in the living room with a gun in his hand as though considering whether or not to shoot Lance.
Lance’s heart raced. He threw his hands in the air. He knew he shouldn’t have trusted Tyrell.
Should never have come to a crackhouse. Never go with a drug dealer to a second location, that’s basically what this was. Lance knew better.
“Ah, don’t worry about this, honky,” Tyrell said with a loud laugh. He put the gun in his waistband. “I was just cleanin’ it. Ain’t even loaded. Might just shoot the addict in the other room though. Motherfucker was beggin’ to jerk me off the other day for some fent.”
“That’s nasty,” Lance said, too nervous to think of anything else to say. Not wanting to sound like a nerd, he repeated it more casually, “That’s so nasty, man.”
Tyrell nodded, then led him into the other room. He opened up a lockbox, pulled out an eight-ball of coke and handed it over. Lance gave him the money and slipped the bag into his pocket.
Went pretty easy. Still wasn’t a good idea to come here. Better be a good party, Lance thought.
That was when he noticed the semiconscious man lounging around on the floor. He was tall and very dark-skinned but still clearly white — perhaps of Greek or Italian extraction — with wiry, ropy muscles, like his body was too small for his strength. His hair and beard were unkempt and wild. Lance must have passed him when they first came in the traphouse, but he hadn’t noticed him then. He was too nervous about the deal going bad.
“Hey Tyrell,” Lance asked when they had finished up. He whispered so the addict wouldn’t hear. “Is that the man who wanted to jerk you off for fent?” he asked, blushing. Tyrell nodded, and Lance smiled. “How much do you think I’d have to offer to get him to lemme cornhole him?”
“You wanna plow him?”
Lance nodded. He blushed again. Tyrell had a horrified expression, like he didn’t know why Lance would want to plow a trashy addict, despite his filth. Lance had a flair for nasty, disgusting stuff though, and this would not be the first time he cornholed a hobo. But he was concerned the guy would become cognizant partway through and would turn violent. Fent addicts were like that.
“Shit… gimme forty bucks. I’ll make him do whatever you want,” Tyrell said.
Lance nodded and handed the money over. His heart skipped a beat. This was all happening so fast. He felt tiny in comparison to Tyrell, and, though the addict was hardly big, he was a lot stronger and tougher than Lance. Would Tyrell really make the addict stop if he got violent?
“What’s his name?” Lance asked as he kneeled next to the man on the floor. He caressed those broad shoulders, and the man stirred. He was powerfully muscled, more than Lance was expecting for a hobo.
“Uh… Greg, I think,” Tyrell said. “I mostly call him Shitweasel. He’s racist as shit, y’know. He called me a nigger one time when I told him I was all outta fent.”
“Oh, that’s not nice, Greg,” Lance said. He rubbed the man’s well-muscled shoulders. “He’s strong.”
“He works on a oil rig, most of the time,” Tyrell said. “Whenever he on land, he spends all his money on fent. Ends up beggin’ me for a short before he gets called away. Then he comes back when he gets paid again.”
Greg lifted his head. His groggy eyes looked at Lance in confusion. Lance pushed his head back down. Greg was tall and muscular, so he could have easily outmuscled Lance, but it seemed he wasn’t quite aware of that. He just submitted. His muscles flexed, but they had no power in them at the moment, it seemed.
“Open your mouth, Shitweasel,” Tyrell said. “This pervert here is gonna plow you. You gonna submit, okay?”
“Tyrell…” Greg croaked. “You fuckin’ shit.”
Tyrell looked disappointed that wasn’t a racist insult.
“You ever swallow a dick before?” Lance asked. His fingers continued stroking Greg’s hairy chest and shoulders. His muscles felt too big for his body — that was that addict gauntness, Lance thought, but since Greg worked hard on the oil rig, he didn’t get skinny and threadbare like most addicts, he remained thick and bulging. Greg shook his bleary-eyed head, then looked at Tyrell, who laughed.
“Hell yeah, he swallows himself some nuts. Don’t you lie, Greg. Tell him about it,” Tyrell said. He crossed his arms over his chest.
Greg closed his eyes and sighed. “I… Man, fuck you, Tyrell!” He looked at Lance’s dick, which he took out of his pants and stroked right in front of Greg’s face. Greg wrinkled his nose. “I jerked this guy off once.”
“What kinda nigga was he?” Tyrell asked.
“He was… homeless.”
“He was a addict, an old, fat gross-ass addict,” Tyrell said. He cackled. “Shitweasel here was actin’ like a fuckin’ piece of shit, trying-a buy fent when he was short. So I told him I ain’t gonna sell him none unless he go and find the nastiest addict on the streets, bring him back here, jerk him off and show me a mouth full of nigga-addict cum.” Tyrell laughed so hard he slapped his own thigh. “This stupid honky forget what he was s’sposed to do while he jerkin’ that nasty-ass dick. He spit the cum out, an’ I told him not to do that. I wanted to see his mouth full of slimy nut. So I made him go find me a different addict. That one was even nastier. But he remembered to follow instructions. And nowadays he only calls me when he got money. That’s a better system.”
Greg’s face was a bright red, but from the expression in his eyes, Lance guessed that the story was entirely accurate. As Tyrell told it, Lance flopped his dick in front of Greg’s face.
“Jerk me off, Greg,” Lance said softly. “Use your mouth.”
Greg sighed and opened his mouth. His scruffy chin trembled as Lance shoved his dick in. Greg gagged and his throat resisted, but he didn’t try to stop. It was hot and moist, and instantly it sent a wave of pleasure through Lance’s body. Lance laughed though, because he was kinda ticklish and cuz the indignant look on Greg’s face was funny.
“You nasty,” Tyrell said. He looked at Lance. “You both nasty. Nasty-ass whiteboys…”
“I know,” Lance said. He let Greg spit his cock out. “How good are you at deep-throating, Greg?”
“Not good!” Greg said like he was proud of that.
Lance grabbed a couch cushion that was laying on the floor — it looked like Greg had originally been using that as a pillow, but in his fent-induced stupor, he had rolled off it. Lance placed it on the floor and instructed Greg to lay on his back.
“Put your head hanging off the back, like this,” Lance said, demonstrating the position he wanted. Greg stumbled and slowly moved. He paused to wipe his face off, but Tyrell smacked him hard in the chin.
“Get to it, honky-ass bitch!”
Greg stepped to Lance as though going to fight him, but he was too wobbly and uncertain on his feet. He nearly fell even before Tyrell reached back and punched him hard. Greg collapsed to the floor, and Tyrell dragged him into position for Lance.
Greg groaned. His neck and upper back rested on the cushion, while his head hung over the edge. That gave Lance the perfect position to slam his dick right down Greg’s throat. Greg couldn’t resist deep-throating it even if he wanted to, which it wasn’t clear he did.
As soon as his dick pushed past Greg’s lips, Greg let out a loud gag. He sputtered but Lance was relentless. He pushed his cock in even further despite his throat’s resistance.
The smell of cigarette smoke filled the air as Tyrell lit one up. He looked on in disgust, but with a faintly amused expression on his face. He took a deep drag on his cigarette, then kneeled behind Lance. He watched Lance’s balls thwack on Greg’s chin, as he began plowing back and forth in his throat.
He looked closely at Greg’s face, which turned red from both humiliation and lack of oxygen. He sneered and blew smoke at him, filling his nostrils with it and making tears well up in his eyes from the acrid smoke.
“You one nasty-ass addict, Shitweasel.”
As pleasure emanated up his dick, Lance humped wildly. He couldn’t see Greg’s face, so he couldn’t see the utter shame and pain in his eyes, but he could hear it in Greg’s sputtering. Lance leaned forward as he humped Greg’s mouth, his hands extending across Greg’s broad chest. Despite Greg’s apparent disgust, he was obviously experienced at swallowing a cock. Lance was big enough most men (and all women) couldn’t do it, not in any position.
But Lance got every inch down Greg’s throat, which squeezed and massaged his shaft as it sent waves of bliss up Lance’s body. He loved a revolting hobo. The scent of Greg’s unwashed body filled the air, mixed with the cloying aroma of saliva and Lance’s precum.
Lance had always thought of addicts as being skinny, but Greg was actually well-muscled. He wasn’t thick like a bodybuilder though; he was thick like a naturally thick man, one who bulked up regularly aboard the oil rig. There was a scrappy tightness to him too, which Lance attributed to his lack of nutrition and hard living. All of those muscles tensed up every time Greg gagged on Lance’s dick, and Lance pounded hard enough to make Greg’s pecs jiggle with each thrust.
Tyrell’s deep voice was gravely. “I’m gonna put this cigarette out on ya forehead now, Shitweasel. Gonna make you my ashtray.”
Lance gripped Greg’s ropy, spongy muscles with both hands. He clearly couldn’t hold Greg down, but Greg was overwhelmed by the fent, so his muscles were loose and slack. Greg could do little more than buck as his skin sizzled.
Lance turned around in time to see Tyrell put the cigarette out, right in the center of his forehead. Greg’s throat spasmed, squeezing around Lance’s dick.
With a loud sigh, Lance withdrew his dick. Greg gasped for air, the first time in what felt like forever to Lance, though he knew that couldn’t be right; he had probably been sneaking little breaths in between Lance’s thrusts.
“Will you plow him, Tyrell?”
Tyrell shook his head. “That’s nasty. I’ll help you do it, Lance, but I ain’t stickin’ my dick inside that addict.”
Lance nodded. He smacked his dick against Greg’s face. He smiled. “Will you… sit on his face? Make him lick your asshole.”
“A rimjob?” Tyrell was about to shake his head, then considered it. He shrugged. “Whatever, fine. That ain’t nuthin’. Gimme another twenty bucks.”
“Uh… I don’t have it on me, but I can go to an ATM after,” Lance said.
“Fine-“
“You’re… paying me?” Greg asked, still heaving for air as Lance smeared his spit-covered cock over Greg’s face. Greg had flushed a bright red now, as blood pooled in his low-hanging head .
“He’s payin’ me, addict-bitch!” Tyrell said with a laugh. “I ain’t givin’ you jack-shit. I own yo’ ass, bitch.”
Lance slid down Greg’s body. His balls left a trail of sweat through the center of his chest. Then he pulled down Greg’s filthy jeans and threw them on the floor. Greg had a huge cock, uncut, limp as could be. Lance gave it a few strokes.
“You ain’t gonna get much outta that, man,” Tyrell said. “Addicts can’t get hard.”
“I can get hard!” Greg said. His voice moist cuz his mouth was still clogged with spit and precum.
Tyrell laughed. “No, you can’t.”
“Lift your legs up,” Lance said. Greg’s thick, trunk-like thicks elevated, separating his asscheeks and baring his hairy hole. Lance rammed a finger in and smiled as Greg gasped in pain. “You ever been cornholed before?”
“No!” Greg said.
“You sure? I know you was in prison,” Tyrell said.
“I never was. I joined an Aryan gang in prison,” Greg said. “I was protected. I kept my ass pure, intact, like it should be.”
“Well, I’m gonna enjoy this, you Aryan fuck. Get ready to lick Tyrell’s ass,” Lance said.
Greg moaned and gagged just at the sight of Tyrell’s bare brown ass. Lance waited with his dick right at the entrance to Greg’s hole, while Tyrell slowly lowered his unwashed ass onto Greg’s face.
Greg’s whole body bucked when he actually felt Tyrell’s ass on his face. Lance took that moment to slam his dick in, chortling in laughter at Greg’s body’s resistance. He was so distracted by the ass on his face that his own ass was wide open.
But Lance still felt substantial resistance. He shoved as hard as he could, laughing when Greg’s big roughneck body shook and flexed hard. He still didn’t seem to realize that he could overpower Lance, or maybe he just didn’t care; maybe he was willing to do anything Tyrell said on the assumption that disobedience would mean less fent down the line.
“Get your tongue in there, bitch!” Tyrell shouted. He had never taken his pants off, just pulled them down. His balls rested right above Greg’s frantic eyes. Then Tyrell yelped and moaned, a low, blood-curdling sound, as Greg did precisely that. The moan was exaggerated, Lance was pretty sure, Tyrell was funning, maybe to tease Greg or maybe he thought Lance would be more willing to pay for this again if Tyrell seemed to enjoy it.
That was a thought Lance hadn’t considered — maybe Tyrell was gonna bring a hobo every time Lance bought coke. That would be fun.
Lance sighed. He could feel it when Greg stopped resisting and stuck his tongue into Tyrell’s ass; he could feel it in the sudden relaxation of Greg’s sphincter. Greg choked and sobbed into Tyrell’s big black ass.
“Is he making that feel good, Tyrell?” Lance asked.
Tyrell shrugged and clicked his tongue against his teeth. He angled his body away from Lance, so Lance couldn’t actually see the expression on his face, but from his tone and body language, Lance guessed it actually felt very good, and Tyrell just didn’t want to admit he enjoyed a rimjob from an addict. Tyrell didn’t seem to plan on getting hard, but it happened anyway, and he made Greg stroke his dick off.
Soon Greg had trouble keeping his legs in the air, and he kept trying to lower them. Lance barked at him to keep them up, which made Greg try again until his fent-exhausted muscles gave up again. It felt incredible to Lance, whose cock was massaged by Greg’s powerful thighs coming together in an attempt to keep him out. He didn’t have any tightness in his asshole though, so his clenching did nothing to keep Lance’s shaft out. Every thrust of Lance’s crotch sent sparks of bliss through Lance’s body, while Greg’s muscles twitched in pain each time.
Tyrell moaned and shuddered. He muttered something Lance didn’t catch, then lifted himself up. He turned around and rammed his dick right into Greg’s mouth — violating his own ‘no-penetrating-the-addict’ rule.
He sighed as cum flowed, and Tyrell’s cock pulsated. Creamy cum burst into Greg’s open mouth. Greg gagged loudly, and much of the cum spilled past his lips and down his chin or running in rivulets into Tyrell’s unkempt pubic bush. Tyrell flexed his hips to slam his throbbing dick down Greg’s throat.
Greg bucked and gagged over and over, but Tyrell kept his cock in place. Greg’s pecs were hard as rocks as he heaved, his nipples like razorblades beneath Lance’s grasp. The cum was plentiful and thick, and it stuck his skin. Some of it even sputtered out of his nostrils as he tried everything to avoid swallowing it.
At last Tyrell pulled out. He lightly smacked Greg’s face as Greg gasped for air. Then Lance leaned forward, leaving his dick planted deep in Greg’s ass, and he reached forward to smear Tyrell’s cum into Greg’s mouth.
He continued to gag — it seemed he was unable to get used to the taste of cum, or maybe it was the residual taste of ass that did it. Every time he did gag, his asshole clenched hard around Lance’s dick, sending another pleasurable thrill up Lance’s spine.
“You licked ass pretty good, honky,” Tyrell said with a surprised laugh, like he had thought the rimjob would be a crushing bore. “You eat farts too?”
“No-!”
“Let’s find out,” Tyrell said. He turned around and plopped his ass right on Greg’s face yet again. He closed his eyes, and then a loud rumbling fart filled the air. Greg bucked and fought again, his fent-addled arms failing to push Tyrell away as Tyrell cackled.
When Tyrell finally pulled away, Greg’s face was bright red, smeared with tears and various fluids. Tyrell looked at him like he was a dirty diaper, and he spat over and over onto his face. He hocked up big loogies, making certain they covered his eyes and nose.
That put Lance in utter heaven. Greg’s entire muscular body rejected the mask of filth on his face, but Tyrell kept smacking his hands down so he couldn’t wipe his mouth off. The ruddiness of his face extended down to his chest and shoulders now.
Greg’s dick remained limp, even as Lance lazily stroked it. He had a nice big cock that felt perfect in Lance’s hand, and he didn’t even mind that it remained soft.
“Hey, Greg,” Lance said softly. He had to repeat himself a few times until Greg responded by lowering his eyes to look at Lance. Lance continued pounding away, gripping those massive upright thighs as though he was holding them aloft. Lance grinned at his pained expression. “I’m gonna cum in a minute or two. I’m gonna cum in your mouth. You understand me? Repeat what I just said but put it in your own words.”
As the last remnants of Greg’s pride deflated, he stumbled and staggered over his words. “Uh… You’re gonna cum… soon. In a minute or two. You’re gonna nut in my mouth.”
“That’s right. Good boy. Now when I say I’m gonna nut in your mouth, you might think I mean like they do in porn — where I’d jack myself off and shoot my cum on your tongue. That way the camera sees it. But there isn’t any camera here, Greg, so I’m going to shove my dick all the way in your throat. You understand.”
“Yes.”
“Don’t worry, you’ll be able to deep-throat it because it’s nicely lubed with your own assjuices. You ever taste assjuice before today?”
“No…” Greg said. His voice sounded weak, like he was already about to vomit.
“His throat is lubed up wit’ my cum too, plus that fart I blew down his gullet,” Tyrell said. He stood up now and pulled his pants up. He looked on as though utterly disgusted with what he saw.
“That’s a good point, Tyrell,” Lance said. “Are you ready, Greg?”
“Yes, damnit! Just do it! You fuckin’ pervert!” Greg screamed, his face was red. He tried again to wipe it off, but Gun easily kicked his hands away. His face gleamed with the mask of body fluids stuck to his skin.
As frustration roiled his body, his asshole clenched once again. This time it was so tight that Lance paused, unable to keep grinding. He groaned as his dick spasmed, and he shoved it in anyway. Greg gasped, bit his lip and gripped the cushion beneath himself with his fists.
Lance was a little disappointed that he wasn’t going to cum in Greg’s ass, but he so-very-rarely got the chance to do some ass-to-mouth. So he pulled out and scooted to Greg’s face.
Greg took a deep breath and dry heaved in the few seconds Lance’s throbbing dick hesitated in front of his face. The anal remnants clung to his shaft, glistening in the dim light of the crackhouse. Then Lance shoved it in.
A loud retching sound emanated from Greg’s throat, which spasmed and pulled. Lance felt such intense pleasure as he had never known before roll through his body. He jerked and his knees went weak. He leaned forward to support himself on Greg’s strong, sweat-covered body.
Cum flowed down his throat, a huge, plentiful load that coated the sides of his gullet. Tyrell kneeled down to watch again, and he traced Lance’s dick through Greg’s neck, where he could see spasming cockshaft and the flow of cum into his stomach.
“You nasty-ass deadbeat…”
The gagging was so loud it resonated in the ramshackle crackhouse. Lance was certain that anyone walking by outside could hear, but he supposed they probably heard that sort of thing a lot. Lance shook, lifting one leg like a dog as he humped his limpening dick down Greg’s throat. His grizzled chin and cheek hair scratched at Lance’s smooth skin.
At last it was over and Lance pulled out. He sighed as Greg retched, once again trying to sit up and clean himself off. But Tyrell used his feet to force Greg to stay on the ground — Tyrell no longer wanted to use his hands because Greg was entirely covered in assjuice and cum.
Lance laughed as he watched Greg struggle. His big body writhed, covered in so much sweat he was slick and slippery. Lance massaged his muscles and smeared around the body fluids that covered him.
“You don’t get to clean yourself off yet, addict-bitch,” Tyrell said. “Wait till the men who plowed you is done. That’s proper, bitch. You lay there and let the cum dry on yo’ stupid bitch-face, thinkin’ ‘bout how to show proper respect to me. Don’t come beggin’ for shorts no mo’.”
Lance stood up and wiped his dick off with the wetnaps he always kept in his pocket. He tucked it away as he pulled his pants up. Tyrell kneeled next to Greg’s red face. Lance made sure the eight-ball of coke was still in his pocket, plus his wallet — Tyrell hadn’t lifted it — and watched Greg retch violently, using every muscle in his body to do so.
“Hey, Shitweasel,” Tyrell said. He had to repeat it a few times to get his attention. “You my bitch now. I ain’t nevuh been a pimp for men, but I’m thinkin’ I might start. You my first bitch.”
“Tyrell, please-“
Tyrell kicked him in the side. “Nah. You call me sir from now on,” he said. “You gonna get out there tonight and work?”
“Fuck you! I will kill-“
“No you won’t,” Tyrell said. “Don’t you get mouthy wit’ me, honky. I will pimp you out for however much money I can get. If you beg me nice, I’ll let you have some fent now and then.”
Greg settled back, grumbling and spitting invective, but it seemed the promise of fent pacified him somewhat. He closed his eyes as though trying to forget what was drying on his face.
“You know more perverts that’d pay to plow him?” Tyrell asked.
Lance sighed. He fingered the eight-ball in his pocket to be sure it was still there. “Yeah,” he said. “I could bring some friends by.”
“Well, charge ‘em a hundred bucks a person. I’ll let ‘em do whatever they want to his bitch ass, and I’ll give you a little commission,” Tyrell said with a laugh. “Gonna turn this bitch from a fent addict to a cock addict!”