impotence – Mansploitation

The Gangbang

A hardcore gangbang porno shoot gets out of control before an old-school fluffer is brought in to help out. Can Rob save this nasty interracial video shoot?

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Rob was excited as he walked onto the set. He showed up on-time, but none of the talent was there yet. That didn’t much surprise him. He was let in by a mouse-faced white man with a balding head. He checked Rob’s name against a list, and he initially said no after a cursory glance.
“You ain’t on the list.”
“I’m supposed to be, I swear,” Rob said. He momentarily wondered if Thumper had lied to him.
“Look, this ain’t that kind of movie. You prolly got the wrong address,” the bald man said. “This is a gangbang flick. Black guys and a white chick. You ain’t a black guy, and you ain’t a white chick.”
“I swear, I’m on there as a fluffer.”
“Fluffer? We ain’t had fluffers since they invented that little blue pill,” the man said, then he glanced back down at the list. “Oh, wait… You’re on here as Mr. White’s ‘personal assistant’.”
“That’s it. That’s me,” Rob said.
“He brought his own fluffer?”
Rob shrugged. “He said no one’s taking Wiagro anymore.”
“I’ve been shooting porno all week, they’re all taking Wiagro.”
“White guys?”
“What?”
“I mean… in his words… well, I don’t wanna use his wording exactly, but he basically said black guys aren’t taking it anymore.”
“Oh. What? Really?”
“Yeah, something about police brutality.”
“What does Wiagro have to do with police brutality?”
“I dunno. Ask him.”
The bald man shrugged. “Fine. You can’t eat from the craft services table, I’ll kick you out if you do.”
“Okay.”
Rob walked in. The set was made up to look like a dingy alleyway, with trash strewn about and a dumpster nearby. The dumpster was covered in paint that looked like garbage. The set was very well-done, and it seemed like it should smell bad, but all Rob smelled was hand sanitizer.
Near one wall was a table of food — the craft services table, presumably. Rob was too nervous to eat, and the lunch meat looked gray and cheap and room-temperature, so he was not tantalized. The bald man kept glancing at him though, like he was expecting Rob to sneak a few bites.
He soon saw evidence of the woman — not her, but her agent appeared on set and whispered to the bald man, something about her “having some questions about the scene”. Rob desperately wanted to sneak closer, but he didn’t want to get kicked off the set before anything even started.
When the men began to show up, Rob was excited, awkward at first as they all looked at him like he was a benign tumor they had just found. No one asked why he was there. Rob didn’t know if that was because Thumper had told them, or if they just didn’t care.
Thumper was last to arrive. He made eye contact with Rob, nodded, then went straight for the nine other black men who were already there. They milled about in one corner of the set.
After slapping hands with the other nine guys, Thumper lowered his voice to say something important, and they all leaned in. Rob couldn’t tear his eyes away. It sounded like he was encouraging them, almost like a coach or a civil rights leader, and every few seconds he was interrupted by a chorus of uh-huh and yeah, homeboy.
Rob drooled at the thought of bedding these studs, who were the literal embodiments of the black buck mandingo archetype in the national consciousness — these were some of the biggest stars in the industry today.
Thumper White, a middle-aged former convict and heavyweight boxer, had been humping Rob off and on since he got out of prison, and invited him along to the filming of Ten in Three at One Time, an interracial gangbang porn film that Thumper starred in, being filmed right off campus. Rob was skipping class to be here.
Attending a shoot like this had always been one of Rob’s dreams, and this had to be one of the best movies for him to watch. He gleaned from overhearing the crew set up that the ten gangbangers were supposed to “dp her every which way” including double-anal, double-vaginal and double-anal, even supposedly at the same time. He says it’s impossible, he just wants to film them trying.
The girl appeared, flanked by her manager. She was Jaleena Tight, a well-known star in the industry. She was tall, pretty but in a fake, made-up way — Rob got the impression she would be a lot less hot up close and without her makeup on. She looked bored, as if she got triple-penetrated by ten cocks at once every day.
“Alright, let’s get started, come on, guys, over here,” said the director, the bald man, whose name was Gerry. He didn’t look at all excited to be here, Rob thought.
Thumper broke up the huddle. They had all wrapped arms around each other, and Rob was so close he could imagine himself in the center of that circle. His dick jumped to full erection in his pants.
As Gerry ran through the shooting schedule, Rob daydreamed. He couldn’t have assembled a better cast of hardcore thugs. All of the legends in the field were here, including Bryan Plumper, who pretended not to recognize Rob even though he’d been giving Rob reluctant reacharounds every week for months now — Bryan was in desperate need of money and Rob made him agree to regular reacharounds in exchange for cash. Bryan kept that on the downlow though.
Rob was already rock-hard before anyone took their cocks out. He was embarrassed to jack off, so he just let his cock get hard in his pants as the men approached the girl.
“Yo, girl, you look good enough to eat.”
“Look good enough to fill up, ya mean.”
She smiled, though she obviously didn’t much want to be doing this. All ten men talked at once, muttering seductive come-ons to her, interspersed with trashy insults. “Come on, slut, suck my dick” She unzipped the fly of the first man, Bryan Plumper, and his limp dick flopped out.
Bryan Plumper remained one of the top black male stars of porno today, both because of his Hollywood handsome face, his perfect body like a professional athlete, his outrageously huge cock and because of his cocky onscreen personality. He grinned like a jerk as he flopped his dick against her face.
“How my balls smell, ya trailer park bitch?”
His limp cock was still one of the biggest Rob had ever seen. He didn’t want to get kicked off the set, so he didn’t get too close, but he was impressed — it was even bigger in real life than it seemed on his computer monitor.
“Hey, uh… Bryan…” the director, Gerry said. “Uh… Can you get hard?” He sounded like he was surprised he wasn’t already hard.
Bryan shrugged. “Get me a better girl, and I will.” He frowned at the girl, who blanched but didn’t respond. She licked his dick slowly, but not in a slow, seductive way, just in a sloppy, bored way, as though she was imagining herself licking a popsicle she didn’t much enjoy.
“Aren’t you on Wiagro?”
Bryan shook his head, echoed by the other nine. It was Thumper who spoke up though. He had his dick, half-hard already, sticking out the fly of his jeans. “We ain’t takin’ that no mo’. Ain’t you on Twitter, man?” The other guys chorused their agreement.
Gerry nodded. “Yeah, technically. I don’t do it personally though. I have a Sri Lankan woman who does that for me. What’s going on?”
“The CEO of the company who makes Wiagro is a fucking racist,” Thumper said. The other nine tried to explain it all at the same time, so Rob couldn’t hear what they were saying, but he got the gist of it: the CEO had said that black men killed by the police ‘should have been following the law, so they wouldn’t get themselves shot’.
Did he really say that? Rob followed politics closely and hadn’t heard that one, so he found it dubious — and why would anyone have even asked some pharmaceutical executive about police brutality? The gangbang crew all flexed their muscles at the director, as though Gerry was responsible for it all.
“Okay, okay, okay,” Gerry said, holding his hand up for silence. “I get it, guys, I do. I understand. But you know… we’re shootin’ porno here, right? You have to have a hardon. That’s pretty much a basic rule. You can’t just flop your dick around like a dead fish.”
Thumper walked over to Rob. “We goin’ old-fashioned, Gerry. I brought a fluffer along,” he said. “Get down.”
Rob got on his knees, swallowing Thumper’s cock in one smooth motion. The others all burst into laughter and chatter.
Disappointingly, the other nine made it clear they weren’t going to use Rob to get hard. They all said they could do it on their own.
“I don’t need no sissy, Gerry. I do this the even more old-fashioned way.”
But Rob could see that more than a few were watching him out of the corner of their eyes.
Rob deep-throated Thumper’s cock, putting on a good show for the guys who weren’t focused on the girl — she was still sucking off Bryan Plumper, who was dressed as a pimp and making demands of her. The others all looked away, but Rob could see them glancing over out of the corner of their eyes.
“Yeah girl look up at me when you suck my cock. Go on, go deeper. Deeper, baby, you can do it. It’s okay to gag a little, ain’t nuffin’ wrong with dat.”
When it felt like Thumper was near orgasm, he pulled away from Rob. He hurried over to Bryan Plumper and rammed his cock next to his in the girl’s mouth.
“Hey, homeboy! Ain’t nobody asked for yo’ dick!” Bryan said. He looked at Thumper crossly. If it weren’t for the others laughing at him, Rob suspected Bryan would have punched him.
“Thumper don’t care, homeboy. He old-school like that. He a prison homeboy.”
For his part, Thumper didn’t even seem to notice. He let his dick touch Bryan’s, and the girl sucked on both tips. She didn’t use a lot of tongue, and it didn’t look like a great blowjob. Bryan shook his head. “Old man, you are one nasty homeboy.”
Thumper shrugged. “Whatchoo complainin’ ’bout? We double-teaming this bitch every way, right?”
“Yeah, but we don’t do that any more than we got to. We start off with just some one-on-ones,” Bryan said. His erection had deflated.
“Bryan… What happened to your hardon?” Gerry asked. He sounded frustrated.
“This homeboy’s cock happened to it!” Bryan shouted. He dropped his green pimp pants and turned around. His perfectly smooth, round asscheeks were right in front of the woman’s face. “Come on, lick my ass, bitch. That always gets me hard.”
“No.”
Bryan looked at her through his legs in anger. He had to move his cock and balls to one side to see her face. “What?”
“That wasn’t on the list. I ain’t being paid for a rimjob,” the girl said. She looked away from Bryan’s ass. “Get your ass outta my face.”
Gerry sighed. “Yeah, that’s right. No rimjobs today.”
“You said we was doing it all!” Bryan said. He stood up and crossed his arms over his chest. “You said we was doing rimjobs!”
Gerry shook his head. “I said that was the plan, Bryan. I said that like two months ago. Plans change.”
As they continued arguing, Rob was surprised by Enrico Strong. He was a plump young black man, the one there with the biggest belly, though he wasn’t fat, he just had a lot of muscle and a fair amount of padding over it. He didn’t seem at all self-conscious about it. Enrico was the only one who had taken his shirt off so far, so everyone could see his body.
“Yo, you get me hard, huh, sissy… Huh?” Enrico said.
Rob kissed his cock without answering. He swallowed it all the way down to the root. Enrico looked like he didn’t want to attract attention from the others, who were whacking their limp dicks against the woman’s face. She sucked off each one in turn.
“Yo, this bitch ain’t suckin’ like she need it.”
“Come on, bitch, deep-throat that shit. You just playin’ with the tip.”
Then Enrico pulled away from Rob and shoved in between the others. He didn’t seem to notice — or didn’t care — that his dick leaked precum on their thighs as he squeezed past them to shove his dick in her throat.
“Finally!” Gerry said. “A hard cock.” He looked to Rob and raised his eyebrows. Rob nodded. Gerry cleared his throat. “Okay, everybody — everyone but Thumper and Enrico, I mean — go on and let the fluffer get you hard.”
Rob opened his mouth wide. He smiled proudly. He had fantasized about these porn stars off so much, and now it was actually happening. “Oh shit, I ain’t think we was gonna do it, but this sloppy-ass slut is not doin’ it fo’ me.” First was Justyn Dong, a tall, lean man with a tight little face, not especially handsome, though he had a nice body and a huge cock.
There was a little blood flowing through his cock already, and when Rob sucked it down, it quickly perked into life. “Damn, this punk know how to do it right” Justyn fed his dick down Rob’s throat. He lightly slapped the side of Rob’s throat as though that helped it go down.
“Okay, come on, Justyn, let’s go. Y’all need to learn how to use a fluffer. You just get hard, then come over here and fuck a little,” Gerry said. Justyn mockingly saluted him as he left Rob’s mouth and returned to the set.
“Alright, slut, you ain’t had nothin’ yet.”
He was replaced by Tyrell Brickley, a local, and Steel Lexington, a cool, fashionable homeboy, who wore reflective sunglasses still, even though he had taken off the rest of his clothes. He slowly spat onto his rod as Rob sucked down all that sweat, and the other one, the local Tyrell, was mollywopping his dick on both Rob’s face and Steel’s dick.
His dick was thick and veiny, and it soon stirred to life in Rob’s throat. “Fuck yeah, you got that nice open punk’s neck, I like that.” He even lifted his sunglasses over his head as the first few drops of salty precum leaked down Rob’s throat.
Next up was Shortie Nack, a squat young thug with a thick mustache and a plump body, not quite as wide as Enrico’s but with plenty of thickness. “Get ready to choke, alright? My paps always told me if you gonna ramrod a homeboy, you gotta show him who’s boss. I know you ain’t a homeboy, but I think the same principle apply even more to honkies.” Rob deep-throated his dick and licked his sweaty nutsack as he enthusiastically agreed.
Then Shortie took Rob by the ear, held him in place, and rammed his cock down Rob’s throat. His gyrations were so intense Rob choked loudly, and Gerry yelled at Shortie to shut up.
“Can’t help it, Massa Gerry, this’s the only one I’s uh-know how to use his dick, suh!” He laughed as he left Rob’s spasming face to join the gangbang. He looked back longingly at Rob, whose features were bright red from both embarrassment and lack of oxygen.
After that was Mr. Markum, the only one there who actually looked like a nice guy. He had deep dimples and a round face, and he smiled a lot, even as he nervously let Rob swallow his cock. He didn’t quite have a six-pack, and his fat dick pulsated in Rob’s throat.
“This is actually my first time lettin’ a man on my meat. Ain’t that bad, really… Works too, he gettin’ me hard in no time.”
As Mr. Markum went back to the girl, Rob swallowed down Baron Hung. He whacked his dick across Rob’s face before he let himself get fully hard. “Just wanna make sure you see this meat before you gag on it some more — you worship it, huh?” Rob’s throat was already too full to answer. He let his eyes say yes as he choked on the entire ten inches of black cock in his throat.
Wesley Gripes came next, second-to-last. He was possibly the oldest, Rob thought, or maybe roughly tied with Thumper. But while Thumper was a burly thug with a few gray hairs appearing on his chest and head, Wesley had a smooth, hairless body, and a few wrinkles on his face, but otherwise didn’t look especially old. “These other homeboys don’t even know, man. But I do. I was makin’ porno when these homeboys was in diapers. Back then, we always had fluffers, and they was always sissies. Or sometimes just some homeboy who piss me off, so I tell him he gotta be my fluffer fo’ a day. Lemme spit in yo’ throat, bitch. He took his dick out and spat a thick wad of saliva right down Rob’s throat. Rob choked and gasped for more. “I wish I could stay, bitch, but that bitch over there wants me, and I’s gettin’ paid fo’ that.”
When Wesley walked away, spit dripping from his dick, the only one left was Bryan Plumper. He sneered down at Rob and crossed his arms over his massive chest, still pretending he didn’t know Rob. He had a huge rod, so big Rob thought it might be the first cock in his life he couldn’t deep-throat.
At least one of the other gangbangers chuckled as though they didn’t believe him, but Bryan didn’t acknowledge it. He took a deep breath and whacked his limp dick over Rob’s face. He put the tip in Rob’s mouth, then stopped himself.
“Nah. I can’t do this,” Bryan said. “You gonna eat my ass, bitch.” He bent over on all fours, putting his face on the ground and his ass wide in the air. He wiggled his hips as though waiting to get a dick up his ass. “I was lookin’ forward to a rimjob today.”
Rob dived right into his ass. He plunged his tongue deep in Bryan’s ass.
“You see, bitch? You should do this, take a fucking lesson from this punk,” Bryan said, chuckling. He repeated himself until the girl angrily said she heard him. He moaned passionately, so loud he grabbed attention from the guys who weren’t currently getting in position to start fucking the girl.
Finally, his cock hard, Bryan got up and raced over to the girl. She was sitting on Mr. Markum’s cock, easing into her ass. Without a word of warning, Bryan pushed his own cock into her pussy. His balls touched Mr. Markum’s as they both began fucking her.
The woman was limp, as though she had been double-penetrated so often she barely noticed. Bryan roared and flexed his biceps as he pushed inside her.
“Yo, Bryan, can you get your balls off me?” Mr. Markum said. His voice was muffled because he was under the girl, who was herself under Bryan’s heavy body.
But it didn’t sound like Bryan even heard his words. He kept fucking the girl, slamming his dick in with each powerful thrust of his hips. Each time, his balls hit Mr. Markum’s, making a sweaty, moist slapping sound that all the other gangbangers groaned at. All except for Thumper who kneeled down to get a better look at their balls slapping together.
“Man… homeboy! Bryan, homeboy, hang up for a sec,” Mr. Markum said, louder. “You keep touchin’ my balls and shit, man. That’s gross. I hate balls.”
“Yeah, I’m ’bout to lose my erection. This bitch is too loose,” Bryan said. “Where’s that fluffer at?”
Gerry sighed. He obviously didn’t want to keep interrupting the shoot for this, but he motioned for Rob to get in there. “Don’t take your dicks out, guys. Come on, we got a lot to shoot today.”
Rob hurried into the shot and put his head between Mr. Markum’s and Bryan’s hips. It smelled like assholes and ball-hair, he thought as he licked Mr. Markum’s balls first, then Bryan’s. “Damn, he gettin’ in there! That is a fuckin’ expert move right there!” They were both deep in the girl’s body, so their cocks were not visible, and their hairy scrotums overlapped. Rob licked each ball separately at first, then opened his mouth so wide he could get all four in at once.
Bryan grunted, and the sound was palpable through his balls, which made Rob moan with pleasure. Bryan said, “Damn… I ain’t think ball-lickin’ could make me get hard.”
“Yeah, that’s nice, I like it when you move your tongue,” Mr. Markum said. His balls crawled up in his sac as his dick got hard inside the girl.
“Okay fluffer, come on out of there, they’re hard,” Gerry said.
Rob was disappointed, but he crawled away. He needn’t have been upset because he hadn’t even taken a deep breath before someone shoved a dick in his mouth. He soon saw that it was Steel Lexington, who just rammed his dick in a few times, then moved to the girl’s mouth.
A few yards away, outside the current shot, Rob saw Thumper and Wesley Gripes laying on the floor, facing each other before they laid on their backs. Their thickly corded legs wrapped around each other’s bodies as they scooted so close that their dicks touched.
Thumper didn’t seem to mind, but Wesley was grossed out. “Ah, damn, yo’ dick feel like a damp sponge, Thumper. This shit is nasty.” His dick immediately fell limp. Rob crawled over to slurp on his meat. Their cocks together were as thick as a fist, Rob thought, he’d be impressed if she got them both fully in her ass.
But he took both dicks in his mouth just to get Wesley hard, as Thumper was still rock-hard anyway. Rob pleasured both cocktips at once, and he flicked his tongue in and out of Wesley’s pisshole. He couldn’t believe he was jerking off the Wesley Gripes!
“You real nasty,” Wesley said. He curled his lip up and stuck out his tongue.
The girl walked over to Wesley and Thumper. She moaned in pain when she sat on their cocks, straining to get both in her asshole. “Oh shit, she got ’em in her ass, this girl a nastiness champion.” Wesley gave some of the guys dap from his position on the ground.
While she worked two dicks into her ass, Shortie Nack got his own dick serviced. He looked on at the scene, watching the girl strain to get two dicks inside her. Rob swallowed him down to the root, then did the same for Baron Hung. Their dicks tasted like pussy now.
They both moved onto her mouth. She was concentrating on taking both dicks in her ass, so she didn’t really suck, just left her mouth open while they rubbed their cocks together on her lips. “Alright, bitch, you got four in you, now, two in the mouth, two in the ass. You got five more to go!” The men all laughed as they reached in to touch her tits.
Enrico and Bryan were next. Enrico let Rob lick his dick for a few seconds, but he was still half-hard, so he was ready right away. He got on his knees and pushed his dick into her pussy, while Bryan Plumper bent over in front of Rob. He grunted.
“Don’t fight me, bitch, take this dick, like the slut I know you is, whore.”
Rob licked his asshole until Bryan was hard again. His musty ass-flesh tasted like sweat, and his dick was hard almost right away. He stayed at it until Gerry yelled at him to hurry into position. He even lifted one of his legs and shook it like a dog.
So the girl had Wesley and Thumper in her ass — both of them on the floor on their backs, cocks jammed in together. Shortie and Baron flopped their limpish dicks on her face, joined soon by Mr. Markum, whose dick was half-hard. Her face was entirely concealed by the three limp cocks covering her.
“You look so nasty with three dicks all on you, slut, so fuckin’ nasty. What would yo’ daddy say if he saw you right now?”
Enrico was the only one who was seriously humping, shoving his dick into her pussy. Rob didn’t have much experience with vaginas, but he could tell she was loose, and Enrico was having trouble maintaining an erection. But then Bryan got into position.
“Ah, get your ass out of my way,” Enrico said. Bryan had gotten in front of him and slowly lowered his thick body between Enrico and the girl. Bryan’s dick left a trail of precum on her tits. His ass was only inches from Enrico’s face, and his cheeks rubbed against Enrico’s belly as Bryan slid down to her pussy.
She already had two cocks in her ass, so the positioning was awkward. Bryan’s feet were planted wide, on the far side of both Thumper’s and Wesley’s thighs. His asscheeks spread, baring his hole right on Enrico’s chest.
“Ah, fuck, I lost it! Fluffer!” Enrico shouted. “There’s a goddamn asshole on my chest.” They all laughed nervously.
“That asshole is wet with that sissy’s spit.”
Rob jumped in. He had a feeling the director was about to say not to worry about it — he had said he knew they wouldn’t get all ten dicks inside her at once, after all — so Rob got in there before he could say no. He took Enrico’s balls in his mouth and made a loud gargling sound.
Instantly Enrico’s cock perked up. Rob could feel it in his jerking ballsac. Rob moved between cock and ballsac, having no idea which one he was licking as there were so many down there he couldn’t tell.
But that wasn’t all. There were still two men left. Justyn Dong, who approached Rob and put his dick in his mouth, and Steel Lexington, who stroked himself off as he waited his turn.
“Yo, Gerry, how we gonna do this?” Steel said. He looked on dubiously. “Ain’t no way I’m gonna get in there.”
“I know, I know,” Gerry said. “Just try. I wanna shoot you guys tryin’, y’know, jousting as you get it in there.”
Rob moved from Justyn’s dick to Steel’s and back again. Steel took off his sunglasses and sighed. “I ain’t gettin’ paid enough for this,” he said. He looked to Justyn. “You want the pussy or the ass?”
Justyn shrugged. “Uh. Pussy, I guess.”
“Oh shit, this is one for the record books.”
Steel nodded. He was rock-hard again, and he approached the girl from behind. Gerry moved the camera down to catch it as Steel mounted Thumper’s chest. Steel’s hairy ballsac even touched Thumper’s skin when Steel poked his dick at the top of the girl’s ass.
“Damn, sorry, homeboy, them’s my balls on yo’ belly.”
She already had two dicks in her ass, so Steel could do nothing more than jab at the crowded entrance. He quickly got limp again as his balls dragged on Thumper’s hairy belly, so Rob got in there and licked his cock from behind, while Gerry moved over to film the pussy.
He had to squeeze his head to get at Steel’s balls, and Rob managed to lick them as well as at least one cock and someone else’s taint, he couldn’t even keep track of whose body was whose. And he couldn’t see the girl at all anymore.
“If this bitch wasn’t already nasty, she would be now.”
“Whoever’s balls I’m touching, man… wash yo’ fuckin’ balls sometime, homeboy. Feels like a soggy wetnap.”
“She loose as a goose, mah homeboy. She actually got three homeboy dicks in her pussy right now?”
“Really? You got yo’self in there.”
“Just the tip, but still.”
“Get yo’ asshole off my face, homeboy.”
Justyn had to grip Enrico’s hefty body, and even held onto Bryan’s asscheeks as he jammed his dick into the confused mess down there. He actually got his dick just slightly in, though Rob didn’t think anybody could tell except for him because his head was right there.
As the camera moved back and forth from her ass to her pussy and back, Rob did likewise, licking whichever dicks weren’t in the shot.
“Okay, guys, fluffer, out of the way,” Gerry said. He backed up until he got them all in the shot. “Alright, folks we’re in the home-stretch, hump away. If your dick ain’t in her, that’s fine, just pretend. Nobody can tell from his distance anyway. I just need to get some shots of all ten of you at once.”
“Okay this is it, I’m out, I ain’t doin’ no more gangbang shit after this. This is too fucking nasty, mah homeboy.”
“I know, right? I told this homeboy… years ago when I got started, I told this homeboy you don’t know that I ain’t doin’ nothin where my dick touch another dick. He said okay, but then he made it happen like a hour later. Now here I am eight years later, man, and I can’t even feel this girl. I’m humpin’ yo’ nutsack right now.”
Rob masturbated as he watched. All ten men moved, ten powerful black bodies undulating in sync with each other. The girl was virtually invisible behind them.
“Ah, fuck, I got someone’s precum on my finger.”
“Okay, let’s get ready for the cumshots,” Gerry said.
The men were all relieved. “Finally, shit! I feel like my dick been toyed with all day!” They pulled away, leaving the girl there, looking bored. They were all limp now, except Thumper, so they lined up for attention from Rob.
“Shit, I’m glad to get away from this nasty bitch.”
He opened his mouth and let them plow at his throat like an assembly-line. They took turns, passing him around, and chuckling as he deep-throated every last cock. He was disappointed that he didn’t get to taste their cum, but he loved the one-after-the-other throating he got.
Since their cocks had been touching each other more than her, he didn’t taste much of the girl on them either. Their sour-sweet precum flooded his mouth, and Rob let it wash over his face to at least give himself the illusion of getting the cumshots. He didn’t mind so much, as he got plenty of cock either way.
Unsurprisingly, it was Thumper who came first. He ran over to the girl and shot a load over her face. She gagged a little but then left the cum there, playing with her loose pussy for the camera.
“Paint that slut, homeboy!”
“Here come another! Gonna turn her even whiter…”
“Direct hit!”
Thumper then let Rob play with his limp cock while the other guys shot their load on her. One by one, they brought their spent dicks to Rob to be licked clean. So he got to taste plenty of cum before the scene was complete. By the time the last man was done, Enrico, Rob’s throat was well-lubed, and the girl’s face was covered in cum.
“Alright, that’s a wrap,” the director said. He clapped. “I wasn’t sure we’d get through this, but we did it.” He clasped Rob on the shoulder. “I should hire you for all my shoots from now on. You’re better than Wiagro. Write down your email address for me, man.”

The Model

Avery hires a hunky model for a photoshoot, but the stud’s girlfriend ruins everything, and he’s got an inconvenient bulge he can’t get rid of… That’s where Avery comes in! He’s willing to service this handsome alpha if that’s what it takes!

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Apparently, this was the only weeping willow tree in front of a barn and a pond in this area. Avery didn’t think that could possibly be true. Weeping willow trees were everywhere. Ponds and barns were quite common. How could this be the only suitable location? It was probably just the only one they could find a picture of on the Internet.
But Avery wasn’t about to complain. He had a spot laid out he thought would look good, so long as the model showed up soon, before the sun moved.
He paced back and forth. This was the first time he had been hired as a photographer, after months of selling cut-rate services online. Thus far, it had been kind of a bust.
But then all of a sudden, a large Indian company hired him to take twelve pictures — of handsome shirtless American men. They were making a calendar, it seemed. Avery was excited. This seemed like a real possible entrance into the world of professional photography. On the one hand, taking shirtless-hunk pics was kind of cheap, but on the other hand, it was indisputably professional, not amateur — Avery would be able to put on his resume that he had produced the pictures for a best-selling calendar (obviously he didn’t know if it would be best-selling, but no one regulated that kind of claim, and for all he knew, it would be a best-seller in India).
He wondered if he should have looked up what Indian women thought was handsome. He hadn’t considered that. Should he assume they wanted what he would want? Would an American man think the same thing was sexy as some Indian women? The Indian company who hired him hadn’t even said that they were releasing it in India, so that all might not even matter.
He tried doing some googling with the Google India portal. As far as he could tell, aside from a preference for beards, there wasn’t much he could glean about handsome Indian men.
They wouldn’t want a picture in front of an American barn if they wanted him to look Indian, Avery thought. What if the model is Indian? He should have asked more questions when he accepted the gig. It had seemed so simple at the time: just snap some pics of a handsome bare-chested dude in front of a weeping willow, a pond and a barn. They even found the location for him and hired the model (and when the original model had had to cancel, they found a replacement).
Finally a little red Ferrari zoomed along the winding country roads that carved through the mountains. It was going way too fast, Avery thought. It came to a screeching halt on the asphalt — not on the little gravel road that led to the barn, which was where Avery had parked.
“Oh my god, Owen if you think you’re parking my dad’s Ferrari in the fucking gravel, you are very mistaken,” said a female voice. She was Veranda, and she was a pretty but harsh-looking woman with an angular face and blonde hair so perfectly cascading past her shoulders that it looked like she had scalped a Barbie. Avery instantly took a disliking to her and not just because she was Owen’s girlfriend.
Owen was the model, and he was dreamy, impossibly hunky, cringe-inducingly handsome. Avery wanted to gaze into his soulful eyes and hear him wax philosophically about sunsets. He wanted to slather him with kisses. Avery hadn’t expected him to be like that. He was kind of lean, but well-muscled, long-limbed, tall but not extraordinarily so. He had dark hair in an impeccable little foppish wave, every strand in place and plastered there with some sort of mousse that Avery guessed was very expensive. He had dour dimples and a disaffected grin on his face as he got out of the car, tossed his head back to get his hair out of his eyes and nodded at Avery.
Still on the road, they had to walk to meet Avery. Owen was mostly silent the whole way, but Veranda kept talking. “This is all so ridiculous. I can’t believe we drove all this way for this.”
“You didn’t have to come.”
“I mean, we drove for like an hour to get here, an hour back, that means you’re making like twenty bucks an hour. That’s bullshit. I’m sorry, I wouldn’t piss on a dead dog for that,” she said. She lit her cigarette. “And for that…” She glanced over at Avery as though she didn’t want to finish her sentence in front of him.
That’s because she and Owen had been about to have sex when he got the call asking him to come here for a photoshoot. Owen had been struggling to break into modeling for awhile. He was desperate for any gig he could get. So he went even if it disrupted them from having sex.
Unfortunately, that didn’t happen until after Owen took a little blue boner pill.
It wasn’t until Avery had shaken Owen’s hand and gotten him to take his shirt off that he noticed the erection. Owen had aimed it up so it wasn’t that obvious at first. Once you saw it though, you couldn’t hardly miss it.
For one thing, he had worn tight skinny-jeans. There was nowhere to hide his ten inches of manmeat in those pants. Avery snuck glances at it as he explained the photoshoot and got a look at Owen next to the barn and weeping willow. He looked good in the right light, real good. This was going to be a nice photoshoot. But Avery’s eyes were drawn over and over to the Wiagro-fueled bulge in his designer jeans.
Owen blushed when he saw Avery checking it out. He again re-angled his cock upwards, so it wouldn’t tent his pants. It was still visible though.
“Ah, so… You have a, uh…” Avery blushed. “That’s going to be a problem.” He pointed to Owen’s crotch. “It’s very distracting.”
“Sorry, man… what kinda pants am I supposed to wear? I can hide it,” Owen said. He bit his lip nervously, showing off those outrageous dimples that made Avery swoon. His whole body sort of undulated when he got nervous, showing off those outrageous abs — he did one-hundred sit-ups twice a day. He demonstrated that, with his cock at the right angle, it wasn’t visible. But every time he moved, it was no longer at the right angle, and he winced each time because his erect dick was so sensitive. “Sorry. I, uh… I have a hardon. It’s hard to get rid of-“
“He’s not kidding, it won’t go away for hours.”
“Don’t worry, I, uh, I have spare pants. They’re corduroys,” Avery said. “Let’s go into the barn and change.” He glanced back at Veranda. “I’ll… I’ll work around, uh… your anatomical… issues-“
She scoffed and took a deep drag. “He took a pill, mister, that thing’s not going away for a couple hours. Cuz if he thinks I am letting him fuck me in a fucking barn in the fucking middle of fucking nowhere, he is sorely mistaken-“
Owen interrupted her, his face suddenly tense and red. “I didn’t fucking ask you to fuck me in a fucking barn in the fucking middle of fucking nowhere-!”
“Don’t you shout at me, you loser!” She shouted right back. “Go ahead and get him off, mister! He’s gonna stay hard until you do.” She crossed her arms over her chest and took out her phone to start texting. Avery got the feeling she had been waiting for a good opportunity to lose herself in her phone and that she was not going to pay any more attention to Owen. Owen seemed relieved by that.
Avery nodded as politely as he could muster at her, not that she was paying attention, she was focused on that phone. He walked away, arm in arm with Owen.
When they got in the barn, Avery handed the corduroys over to Owen, who dropped his pants. That was when Avery saw how huge his cock was, and how throbbing that erection. He had been blue-balled, it seemed, and Avery was tantalized by its meaty heft and how close it already appeared to orgasm
I bet I could just run my finger along the top of it and he’d bust out, Avery thought. He blushed.
“Corduroys, huh? Do people still wear corduroys?”
“Maybe in India,” Avery said with a shrug. “They told me these would be good pants to wear.” He watched as Owen tried to fit into the corduroys, but they were a little small for him, and his massive erection kept getting in the way. Owen blushed until he was as red as Avery.
“Uh… I’ve been working out, getting more muscle tone,” Owen said. “I prolly need bigger pants. I have big thighs now. I can do it though, I just… uh…”
“Was your girlfriend serious about me jacking you off?”
Owen nodded. “You’re like… into that? Is that… cool? I mean…?” He was one of those people who talked as if everything was a question, so it was hard to tell what he actually intended as a question and what was a statement.
Avery dropped to his knees. “I just need you to go soft enough for us to take a couple pics. No biggie. I’m a professional like that. I’ll do what it takes to make this photoshoot a success.”
Owen sucked in his breath and nodded again. He peered outside to see if his girlfriend was coming closer. She was focused on her phone and wouldn’t likely put it down until he said he was done. Owen rolled his eyes. This wasn’t the first time he’d let a man jack him off. Owen found a lot of modeling gigs came easier if he let a producer manhandle him. He didn’t mind. In this case, it wasn’t even that — he already had the gig. He could even have masturbated if he really wanted to.
But that would have definitely made Veranda make fun of him. She would have called him a pussy for jacking his own self off, like a loser-ass pansy. She was like that.
Avery sunk to his knees at Owen’s feet, and he pulled those corduroys down until his cock was bare. Avery chased it with his mouth, while Owen stood there like he was modeling already, putting out a smoldering handsome face aimed in no direction in particular. He looked contemplative, serious yet casual.
Finally, his dick plopped heavily on Avery’s waiting tongue. It tasted like sex, Avery decided, you could tell he had been thinking about sex, maybe even precummy, not that long ago. He might have fucked Veranda recently. Though she did seem like the kind of girlfriend who usually found an excuse not to have sex. She was like that, Avery could tell.
He could sense that Owen had been hard for a long time too. He was rock-hard but still springy and just a bit floppy in the best possible way. His veiny shaft was not pulsating like a normal hardon at first, but it did begin to throb once Avery got it excited — basically, it was still and dull when his erection was caused by pharmaceuticals, but once it was caused by arousal, it was a potent, throbbing stiffy like any other.
Avery played with it a bit first, while Owen made nervous mewling noises and kept checking his girlfriend. She had said he “could” do this, but he didn’t want her to know he actually did it. She’d probably insist he make friends with Avery so anytime she didn’t want to suck him off — pretty much always — she’d tell him to get his nut off from Avery.
That’d be a great plan from Avery’s perspective. Not so much for Owen.
He sighed and tried to relax to enjoy the mouth on his cock, which Avery worked on with enthusiasm. It did feel good, he thought, as Avery slathered his shaft with spit and slurped merrily on the tip. It was nice to get jacked off by someone eager to do it. Veranda treated it like a chore, like doing the dishes — a chore that Owen couldn’t even tell her not to worry about, because she insisted he would cheat on her if she didn’t do it. Somehow she did things neither of them wanted, yet it was Owen’s fault.
Not Avery. Owen could tell Avery did this because he wanted it, because he needed it, because Owen’s cock was that good. Avery guzzled it down.
“Hmmmm…. You taste sweet,” Avery said when he pulled off Owen’s shaft. A few drops of precum came out the tip, and Avery slurped them down. The bright, salty taste of Owen’s body hit his senses.
Avery slurped on the tip with a smirk as he played with the underside of Owen’s shaft. He let it dance overtop his face, with his mouth and lips planted right at the root, on the underside. He let his tongue snake out and tickle the veiny spot where his dick met his ballsac. The taste was salty and funk, accentuated by the vaporous chypre of the drugstore cologne Owen wore.
Owen groaned and closed his eyes. “Goddamn, man, you got a nice mouth. You’re better than Veranda. I swear, she’s like ninety-percent teeth. She’s like a shark.”
Avery chuckled. He spat on the shaft then licked it off, making Owen groan and shudder in excitement. Avery licked his way down the shaft until he got to those low-hanging balls, which were clean and ripe and juicy. Avery guzzled them down, letting his mouth fill with Owen’s fleshy sac.
“Can I lick your ass?” Avery asked. He didn’t often give out rimjobs, but if he were ever going to do it, Owen was perfect. He had a nice clean ass, fleshy and firm and strong. It smelled of sunshine and coconut soap.
His eyes opening wide, Owen blushed as he turned around. He once again checked his girlfriend — she was texting angrily now, presumably either bitching about him or sympathizing with one of her friends who was bitching about her boyfriend. She ignored him. She didn’t seem to have even noticed that this was taking a long time — technically, Owen had only come in here to change his pants. But it had already been a good five minutes, maybe more like ten.
For all she knows, this photographer turned out to be a serial killer and he’s already turning my dick into a lampshade, Owen thought to himself. The more time he spent with Veranda, the more he wanted to dump her.
But Owen was one of those guys who was literally never single. Since middle school, he always had a serious girlfriend. He hadn’t gone more than a week or two without a girlfriend in years. He didn’t know how to handle life without a woman telling him what to do.
And supporting him. Owen didn’t make enough from modeling to pay the bills.
Avery kneeled behind Owen, who leaned on a railing of some kind — this barn wasn’t used anymore, but it looked like at one point it had been for milking cows. Owen grimaced and spread his legs wide so Avery could get between his cheeks. His thighs were thickly muscled, and his buttcheeks were smooth like porcelain. Avery rammed his tongue in quickly, his hands kneadig the flesh of Owen’s backside.
“Oh god…” Owen wasn’t expecting it to feel so good, especially right away. He threw his eyebrows way back, and he let out a long moan.
From the moment Avery’s tongue hit his asshole, spasms of pleasure shot up Owen’s spine. Owen grunted and groaned. Avery’s tongue rammed into him. It seemed impossibly long, and Owen even looked behind himself to check if it was really his tongue or if it was a finger.
But he’d never gotten a rimjob before, so he didn’t know what it was supposed to be like. Was his ass that sensitive? Or was Avery’s tongue that big? Or maybe Avery was just really good at it. A wave of pleasure exploded in Owen’s body, like something he had never experienced, it was toe-curlingly intense.
Regardless, Owen’s eyes bulged out and he lifted one foot like a dog getting scratched. He wrenched his head back and held his breath.
Avery lapped at his perfectly clean and smooth ass. Owen had even gotten his anus bleached a few weeks ago, so it was pristine. His asscheeks were a lightly tanned brown, the same shade as the rest of his skin — obviously, Avery thought, he tanned in the nude. He had no tan lines at all.
Finally Owen had had enough. His cock strained to finally shoot his wad. He pulled away a little gingerly, his knees going weak when Avery’s face moved away from his ass. “Okay, man, I gotta nut. I swear it feels like I’ve been hard for years, man. I don’t even remember what it feels like to not… y’know… to be able to think about something else.” He gasped. “Oh god, I need to nut-“
“You wanna stick it in me?” Avery asked. He turned around, baring his own ass, which was paler and not as perfectly smooth as Owen’s, but still it was good enough for Owen’s horny body. He didn’t even care anymore, he just wanted to ram his dick in some tight hole and finally blow his wad.
So he didn’t even answer Avery’s question. He didn’t want to speak for fear of attracting attention from Veranda out there. She might have genuinely gotten angry if she knew what he was doing. She didn’t even know about cornholing, Owen was pretty sure. Or if she knew about it, she thought it was an urban legend, not something anybody would do.
And she’d never touch Owen again if she knew.
In any case, Avery was plenty loud for him from the moment Owen’s cock rammed up his backside. Avery grunted and groaned, pawing at the ground just from sheer excitement as that meaty shaft slid between his cheeks. It felt even girthier because Owen was skinny-muscled. It looked like he had stolen a thick man’s cock, Avery thought, making him giggle as he squeezed the lube he always kept in his pocket over his own ass and Owen’s shaft.
That helped the rest of Owen’s erection slide into Avery’s ass. Owen grimaced, humping his dick between Avery’s cheeks until he saw lube bubbling in and out of the hole. Then he aimed it in, closed his eyes and moaned.
It felt so good. Fucking Veranda hadn’t been this good in years, not since they first hooked up, if ever. None of his girlfriends ever made him feel like this.
He completely lost track of time. Owen didn’t even care how long it took or about the money from the photo shoot. None of that seemed important. All that mattered was ramming his entire rod into Avery’s ass, ramming into him over and over, exploring every inch of his tender body. Sensations exploded through both men’s bodies. Owen moved with more passion than he ever had.
“Oh god, stick it in me!” Avery called out. He had completely forgotten Veranda was out there. Owen didn’t think much about that either. She had excised herself from his life, Owen thought, so why should he care if she knew about this? What was the worst she could do? Bitch about it like she already bitched about every single thing that happened?
He wasn’t sure he had ever gotten his entire dick in a woman’s ass. He was big enough that that was a challenge, and he was too much of a doe-eyed prettyboy to really push for it anyway. So it felt nice to jam his dick in and out, clapping his hands and smacking Avery’s plump cheeks. Most women couldn’t even take his whole cock in their pussies, and Veranda would never lower herself to trying. She thought only ghetto-sluts did anal.
Finally he felt an orgasm approach, exquisite bliss spiderwebbing through Owen’s body, making his muscles all tighten up at once. Owen sighed and moaned out loud, blushing as he saw Veranda poke her head into the barn. Her eyes opened wide.
She was just in time to watch Owen’s six-pack undulate as he orgasmed. He closed his eyes, gritted his teeth and sucked in his breath. His balls slapped against Avery’s asscheeks, making a loud thwack-thwack sound with each thrust of his hips at Avery’s tight booty. Veranda’s face froze.
He stayed there all the way in, cock throbbing within Avery’s ass, as the most intense orgasm of his life burst within him. Owen shouted and pounded on his chest. He ran his fingers through his coiffed hair, finally messing up his hairdo and giving himself that ‘just-fucked-a-chick’ look. A similar surge of pleasure coursed through Avery’s veins, and Avery panted, crying out for more.
“Owen!” Veranda shouted, yelping at the sight of her boyfriend’s ruddy face and bulging eyes. She held her breath and tried to look away but found herself unable to do so.
Owen didn’t respond. He was too busy writhing with bliss as he climaxed into Avery’s tight ass. Avery had been stroking himself off the whole time, and he shot his own wad soon after, spraying it over the wooden floor of the barn. A vast flood of it spurted several feet in front of him, as Owen’s cock stimulated a prostate orgasm that wracked Avery from head to toe.
Her feet tapped on the barn floor. Veranda had said Owen should get jacked off by Avery, not stick him in the butt. She had trouble thinking of a reason she should be angry about this, but she wasn’t about to let an opportunity to win an argument pass her by.
“Owen! How dare you?!” Veranda scowled.
“What?” Owen said, his voice wavering because he was still in the throes of orgasm. “You said to jack off with him.” The last few drops of his load filled up Avery’s ass.
Only then did Avery realize Veranda was even here. She seemed so unimportant to him. Even now, as Owen and her yelled, Avery’s attention remained on the fat cock in his ass, stimulating his prostate and causing a symphony of sensations to continue sparking up and down Avery’s petite body.
“I said to put it in his mouth, you jackass!” She scowled. “That’s disgusting, what you’re doing… It’s… It’s…”
“Nuh-uh,” Owen said with a throaty laugh. He took a deep breath, watching his dick throb within Avery’s cheeks. Then he pulled slowly out. Both him and Avery sighed when his cock left Avery’s ass, and both men’s knees went weak. “Goddamn, man, I needed that. Shit, you-“
“Don’t you talk back to me!”
“-you got hella nice ass, man,” Owen said, speaking over Veranda. He blushed intensely. That was true and he meant to say it, but he said it mainly to prove to Veranda he didn’t need to hang on her every word. He was his own man, not simply her boyfriend.
“Thanks. You got a nice dick. It’s a pity this photoshoot isn’t naked,” Avery said. He cleaned himself off with a wetnap.
“You hear me, you jerk?! This photoshoot is over!”
“No! We’re over. Go home, Veranda,” Owen said. He looked to Avery. “You’ll give me a ride home, right? That’s her car. Or her dad’s, I mean. Nothing is hers. You can play with it some more on the way. I’m sure I’ll be hard again by then.”
“Sure,” Avery said as Veranda stomped away to her car. Avery cleared his throat. “Okay, well, get those corduroys on. We’ll have to hurry to get these pics taken before your boner comes back.” Avery smiled. His first photoshoot as a professional photographer had gone better than expected.

Massaging the Baseball Player

When Byron the baseball player needs some good luck, he heads to the massage parlor to see if Avery will rub, lick and worship the luck into Byron’s throbbing alpha male meat!

Read it now as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

“Is you into voodoo?”
At first Avery assumed he had misheard that. Why would he be into voodoo? Avery was a white man from right here in New Hampshire. He only recently found out voodoo was a real thing, not just a movie trope.
“Uh… Not really.”
“Oh.” Byron was a quiet young man with a juttingly handsome face accentuated by his ever-present blush. He was a redneck with a Louisiana drawl so thick you could make gumbo out of it. He was short for a baseball player, with broad shoulders that were sunburnt red, the color extending up his neck. He had a military buzz-cut, though he was not in the military, he went to GHU, where he was on the baseball team.
Unfortunately, Avery doubted he would get to touch Byron’s meat, not even here in a massage parlor. He was the kind of shy boy that would never allow that. He was probably a devout Christian (though Avery was surprised to see that he neither wore a crucifix or had any religious tattoos, which Avery would have bet money he had).
His fingers kneaded the tense flesh of Byron’s shoulders, making him groan and squirm as he relaxed. His muscles kept tensing up, then relaxing again.
“So you don’t know nothin’ ‘bout voodoo?”
“No. Sorry. I’m just a masseur.”
“Yeah. I’m from Louisiana.”
“Then it sounds like you should know about voodoo,” Avery said.
Byron chuckled. “Yeah. Guess so.” He rolled over then at Avery’s command, laying on his back. There was a towel over his bare crotch, but Avery could see the bulge of his half-hard cock. Byron had been too shy to get naked in front of Avery. It wasn’t a big towel though. Avery couldn’t tear his eyes away from that bulge.
“Are you… worried about voodoo?”
“No. Well, yes. Sorta,” he said. “I gots a game this weekend. A real ‘portant one, reckon. It’s a tournament game, and there’s gunna be MLB scouts. The Orioles, man. Orioles.”
“Oh yeah, cool. Good luck.”
“Yeah, thanks. I need luck, I do.”
It sounded like he was going to add something. Avery was quiet for a moment to give him a chance, but then Byron fell silent. Avery worked on his taut pecs, which rippled beneath his touch. Byron must have been working up to something, Avery thought, because he was holding his breath. Avery waited until it was clear Byron wasn’t gonna come out with whatever he wanted to say. Then Avery said, “I don’t have any luck to give you-“
“I know, I know. Look, I’s just — I went home last week, to Looeesyana. Just fo’ couple days. My sister got this court date cuzza her husband, he own a alligatuh farm — nevermind, it’s complicated, I went home,” he said. “And there’s… I ain’t a supuhstitius type, ya see? My family is.”
“Uh-huh.”
“My family do that, they… They got alotta supuhstitiuns and junk. I don’t believe ‘em. I don’t. But they do seem to work, ya feel me? They get it done. They work like a meatpacker on a Monday, man.”
“Okay…” Avery cocked his head to the side as his hands moved down Byron’s smooth chest to his six-packed abs, which were perfectly outlined even now, when he wasn’t flexing. Every minute or two though, Byron’s anxiety grew great enough that his muscles did flex, and his six-pack was gloriously visible.
“I don’t believe in ‘em, I swan. I been tellin’ my mama and papa that for years. So, uh, I ain’t tell ‘em, y’know…. Nothin’. I just… I wanted to get some luck, and I ain’t hanker for them to know. I went to these, y’know…” He whispered, “African Americans.”
“I see.”
“And they was, y’know, they got all kinda supuhstitiuns. I thought they was messin’ wit’ me at first, but I looked ‘em in the eye. They said it with a straight face, and they don’t mess wit’ that. You don’t even know, the blacks in Looeesyana are all about the juju — I mean African Americans. They don’t play games. They made me eat a crow.”
“They made you eat crow?”
“No, they made me eat a crow. It just tasted like chicken. But it was gross. They laughed but me, I ate it, and they said it would gimme luck.”
“Are you sure they weren’t messing with you? I don’t think crow tastes like chicken, they probably gave you chicken-“
“That’s what I thought, but they don’t do that, man, I swan. They take that ser-iuss. It sounded right. They wasn’t laughin’ at me,” Byron said.
Avery was very dubious about that. That sounded a lot more like a prank than a real superstition, but he didn’t see any reason to argue about it any further. It was clear Byron believed in it wholeheartedly.
“And, uh, there was anodduh, uh… supuhstitiun.” Byron’s face turned bright red. “It was — you know there’s like, spirits? Not demons! I’s Christian. I a Bible-believin’ boy. I don’t truck wit’ demons, nosir. But, uh, spirits is okay, they di’rent. And uh, some of ‘em is, like, Baron Samedi, you know about him, right? He famous. But a lot of ‘em are, y’know, more obscure. So if I can’t find a Wikipedia article ’bout one of them, that don’t mean he ain’t real. Spirits is real. They ain’t on Wikipedia.” He bit his lip. His dick was definitely rock-hard now, throbbing beneath the towel covering his crotch. Avery’s hands were down to his cabled-muscle thighs now, working the tension out of his tight muscles. “So, anyway, those-” he whispered again “-African Americans, they said there was a spirit who, uh… said I gotsta nut off without a woman this weekend, and I’ll pitch a no-hitter.”
“What?”
“If I do it, the spirit will make me pitch a no-hitter this weekend.”
“What? Those black guys told you that?”
“Yeah. I know you don’t believe me, you think ya yankee smarts makes you better than me-“
“No, Byron, not at all. I would never dream of talking you out of this,” Avery said, suppressing a smile.
“You think they’re messing with me.”
“Uh… Well… That doesn’t sound like voodoo, Byron. And even if it were, voodoo doesn’t work.” Avery paused. “But it’s none of my business. So come on, you didn’t need to take ten minutes to explain that. You didn’t really need to explain it at all. You definitely don’t need to convince me.”
“Oh.” He looked like he really wished Avery had said no. “Okay. Well… I’ll do anything to get in the major leagues, man. What if I can’t get hard?”
“You’re already hard, and I haven’t even touched it yet,” Avery said. He pulled the towel off. Byron gasped and covered his crotch. He blushed. Avery giggled. “Relax, relax, I won’t bite. You want me to turn the lights off?”
“No! No, no way,” Byron said. “I don’t want, y’know… I wanna see what’s happenin’.” He leaned back and covered his face with one arm. “Go ahead and do it. Go on. Oh, man, don’t make alotta sounds, okay?”
Avery smiled. He touched Byron’s dick, just a brief touch, then let go. Byron was still wriggling like the massage was going on, and he didn’t even seem to notice Avery had touched his dick. Byron lifted his head up, supporting his upper body on his elbows, which accentuated the size and power of his pecs. They bounced when Avery touched his nipples, and Byron’s eyes opened wide. He still gave little indication he noticed Avery touching him.
“I don’t no’mally take mah dick in front of strangers,” Byron said. “Just my teammates.”
“Hmmm… You guys always change together in the locker room?”
“Uh-huh.” Byron’s eyes moved down to his dick, just as Avery wrapped one hand around it. He gave it a stroke. It had been fully hard before, when he was covered by a towel, but he was more self-conscious now, and his fat cock had softened some. It was still part-hard, flopping left and right in Avery’s hand like a melted periscope.
It throbbed in his grip. Avery didn’t stroke it just yet, he simply held on like a handle. As long as he had one hand on Byron’s cock, it seemed Byron paid no attention to Avery’s other hand or his mouth. Avery kissed Byron on the pecs, just a chaste and dry kiss at first, then Avery sucked up the nervous sweat clinging to his skin, then Avery moved to his nipples. Even as Byron’s pecs bounced like a stripper’s over and over again, Byron stared at his cock resting in Avery’s hand.
Avery gave it a squeeze, and Byron jumped.
“Shit! Sorry, suh, suh, sorry fo’ the cussin’, I ain’t — I’s a Christian boy,” Byron said again.
“Okay. Christians are allowed to masturbate, right?”
Byron nodded a little too eagerly. He nodded with his whole body. “Oh yeah, yeah. Fo’ sh’ore. Kinda. Not sposedta do it all the time. Sposedta have a godly, you know, in the marital way, a bed, in the marital bed… wit’cha wife,” he said. “I ain’t married. It’s okay to, you know, you know, you know… mastuhbate.” It kinda sounded like he had never said ‘masturbate’ out loud before. He sucked in his breath.
Avery finally stroked his dick, just one time, rubbing his hand from the root to the tip, then back to the root, which he held onto with a firm hand. When he did, Byron jerked and twitched like he was being electrocuted. He gasped and grunted, and even those sounds had a Southern drawl and a Cajun lilt that made Avery smile.
Since Byron still had eyes only for his dick in Avery’s hand, Avery let his kisses move over Byron’s upper body. He kissed him on the neck even, almost hard enough to leave a hickey. He suspected Byron would be upset if he did though, so Avery stopped before leaving any marks on his neck. The thought of anxious-ass Byron trying to explain where the hickey came from made Avery chuckle to himself.
“No kissin’ on the lips,” Byron said, softly but firmly.
Avery nodded. He’d assumed that was a rule anyway, but it was nice to know Byron was okay with — and aware of — Avery’s lips all over his upper body. He even flexed his biceps now, giving Avery a pair of hard muscles to slather spit upon. He had a bicep bulge that was almost cartoon-like, Avery thought, wondering if that was genetic or what. Not since Popeye had anyone had such a bicep bulge.
Finally, Avery put both hands on Byron’s dick, and he slowly stroked with one. His other hand stayed tight on Byron’s cockroot, squeezing it enough to send little tremors of pleasure through Byron’s muscular frame. Avery’s left hand worked up and down the shaft.
His cock finally rocketed back to attention, despite Byron’s anxiety over getting hard, and Byron once again sucked in his breath. He lifted his ass off the massage table, then he forced himself to react again.
Byron looked horrified at his own dick as if he wished he had struggled to get hard. His veiny dickshaft pulsated in Avery’s grip, and his breathing kept speeding up until it sounded like he was on the verge of hyperventilating. His eyes bulged out. His muscles were all flexed rock-hard now, and they stayed that way.
As he stroked with one hand and held on with the other, Avery continued lapping at Byron’s now firm-tense torso and arms. He had never stopped flexing his biceps — he seemed to have not noticed Avery wasn’t sucking the sweat off his arms anymore — which gave Avery a chance to get into his armpits. The sweat there was especially musky and vibrant, wildly salty, and it gave Avery a heady rush. He sucked on both armpits. Byron must have noticed that finally, cuz he stopped flexing his biceps, then realized Avery wanted to suck on his armpits, so he raised his arms above his head, moving with clinical efficiency, like Avery was a doctor who told him to do so.
He had a boner, so it must have felt good, but Byron hadn’t yet given any obvious sign of that. He looked terrified of admitting it felt good. Then all of a sudden, Byron’s whole body bucked, and he again lifted his ass off the massage table.
“Ah, goddamn, boy, you got fingers like…” Byron’s voice broke and he blushed. “I dunno, I can’t think of anything with soft fingers. A baby, I guess, but that’d be creepy.” His cheeks were almost as red as his sunburnt neck.
Avery let go of his cock. Byron’s whole body twitched, and Avery smiled. Byron sucked in his breath. He was supporting his upper body on his elbows, but when he twitched, he lifted up and nearly fell off the table.
“Hmmm… I’m gonna use my mouth now, is that-?”
“Yes!” Byron nodded. “I mean, yeah. Fo’ sh’ore. Those African Americans said it would get me into the Major Leagues.”
“It won’t.”
“So I gotta, I gotta, damn, I got such a hardon. Sorry I just cussed. Sorry. I don’t — aaaah…”
“You didn’t cuss. ‘Damn’ doesn’t count. You did cuss earlier.”
“Those black guys said it, those black guys, those black guys, not all of them were guys, sorry, I was wrong, there was some girls. Women. Ladies. Females,” Byron said. He thrummed and licked his lips in anticipation, and his cock throbbed visibly, though Avery wasn’t touching it yet.
But now that it was clear Byron wanted it, Avery smiled and lowered his head. He bent over to make sure Byron watched as he planted his lips on the tip. It was just the tip at first, sucking on the piss-slit and slathering spit all over it.
It was hard as iron now, he was in no danger of losing his erection. Avery could tell Byron was concerned about that though. Young men usually were. You’d think they’d only be concerned about when they got old enough it might happen, but that wasn’t the case. Young men were always terrified of getting or not getting hardons.
Byron shook and trembled, his hands flailing above Avery’s head. Every time he accidentally touched Avery’s hair, he remembered he was with a man and moved his hand away. He closed his eyes every few seconds, then got overwhelmed and opened them again.
His cock was moving of its own accord now. Byron watched but didn’t reckon his hips pumping, gently, just barely moving, but moving enough to hump his cocktip on Avery’s tongue. It was soft and warm and moist, and Byron couldn’t believe the sparks of sensation erupting all over his body.
Those black guys were right, he thought but didn’t say, a man does do it better than any woman. Not that Byron had gotten that many blowjobs, he wasn’t like that. These black guys told him once to get a man to do it — not the Creoles who told him to do this as a voodoo thing, this was a different group of black guys he ran into when his team went to California for a game. They were yankee black guys, and they talked like black guys from a movie, and they said if your dick works, “you can always find a man to pay you money for a nut”.
Byron would never ask for money for it. But asking for favors from the spirits, that was allowed. In a Christian way, of course.
“Is you gonna sit on it?” Byron asked. He knew guys did that, put a dick up their ass, but it seemed weird, like an urban legend that would turn out to be untrue. Plausible but not real.
Avery nodded. “If you want.”
“Yeah! It’s prolly — the black guys said…” Byron sucked in his breath. Precum exploded in Avery’s mouth, and he sucked down every drop. “It’s prolly the way, the voodoo — those black guys said… the Major League…”
“Oh, yeah, the Major League will love it if you ram me up the ass,” Avery said with a giggle, as he slapped Byron’s hardon on his outstretched tongue.
Avery loved precum. He let it fill his mouth, and he savored the bright, salty flavor. He stopped deep-throating Byron’s dick now, lest he accidentally trigger an orgasm before getting it up the ass. Young men could accidentally bust a nut in a moment, it would be easy to do. Avery had done it before.
But he couldn’t bring himself to stop tasting the intensely masculine flavor of Byron’s precum. There wa something intensely Southern about it, like you could taste the pawpaw and magnolia trees in it. Avery wondered idly what alligator meat tasted like. Byron’s brother-in-law owned an alligator farm, so he must have eaten it a lot.
But he didn’t want to distract Byron by asking. Avery pulled his mouth off Byron’s cock at last with a smack of his lips. Byron sucked in his breath.
“I’m gonna do it. Sit my ass on it, I mean. You’re sure you’re okay with that? I can just finish you off with my mouth,” Avery said.
“Yes!” Byron said. His cheeks were red as cranberries now, and he nodded his head overly enthusiastically. “Yeah!”
“You ever fuck a woman in the ass?”
“No way! I ain’t a pervert!” Byron said. “My priest — Father Alcide — he said that’s a sin. He said only a pervert does it.”
“Hmm…” Avery shrugged. “I don’t agree, but whatever, you have to make your own decisions, Byron.” He kept one hand on the root of Byron’s cock as he rubbed lube onto the shaft. “You let those black guys tell you what to do, you let some liberals tell you to call them African-Americans, you let your coaches, those scouts for the Orioles, your priest, you let everyone tell you what to do. You’re a grown man,” Avery said. “Take responsibility for your choices.”
“Uh-huh.” Byron didn’t seem capable of taking in life lessons right now. He was thinking with his erection, which was pulsating like it might expode any second.
The massage table was wide enough for Avery to climb up there without Byron moving to make room for him. That necessitated Avery to let go of his dick, which got Byron jibbering like a hillbilly again.
“Aaaaah, shiii… ship! Ship!” He closed his eyes. “I wanna nut so bad, shiiiiiiiiip!” His plaintive voice turned into a howl of desire, as Avery mounted him.
Riding a man’s cock in the reverse-cowgirl position was difficult, but Avery knew that was what big alpha males liked best. If they literally couldn’t see anything but Avery’s smooth, girlish back, it wasn’t as obvious they were with a man.
That didn’t stop Byron from laughing nervously as Avery got ready though. His baseball-toned muscles were tense, all of the looseness that Avery’s massage gave him having melted away because he was focused on ramrodding a man and fulfilling his superstition. Avery smeared lube on his ass to match the lube he put on Byron’s shaft, which was so thick Avery was sure he’d need a lot of lube.
Amid the sounds of the New Age music that still played, both men fell silent. Avery held onto Byron’s shaft with both hands, keeping it in place as he lowered his ass onto it. Byron kept his hands behind his head, his eyes opened wide and staring. He grimaced when his cock slid in, then moaned as a wave of pleasure hit him.
“Ship, man, that feels like a girl’s ass…” Byron said. “Ssssh…” He blushed at the realization he was shushing himself. He twitched and licked his lips. “Oh god, oh god, oh god…”
All at once, as his cock eased inch by inch into Avery’s ass, Byron realized that this superstition was silly. That was what he had thought even when those African Americans told him about it. But somehow as the game got closer, Byron’s faith in rationality — and his faith in Catholicism — diminished. He was willing to do everything to improve his pitching just a tiny bit. He made minor adjustments to training, diet, stretching, his daily schedule, everything was subordinate to baseball.
So it made sense, he thought, to do what he could superstitionally too. It’s not like it was even a big deal, he told himself, ramrodding a man was fine. Father Alcide said it was only a sin if it was uncontrollable, or even if you eschewed women for it, or if you were violent or mean or motivated by lust.
And Byron wasn’t motivated by lust. He was feeling lust, but he was motivated by a desire to play for the Orioles. Or whoever, the Astros, ideally, but they weren’t looking for a pitcher.
The pleasure flowing from his cock through his body felt just like it did when he made love to a girl, a fact that wasn’t as mollifying as Byron thought it should be. It just reminded him that “doing the premaritals” was sinful.
He oughta just get jacked off by men til he was married. It seemed so simple now.
“How does that feel?” Avery asked as he slid down lower on Byron’s cock. Intense pressure erupted in his ass, but he used enough lube that it slowly dissipated over time. It was followed by a low, melting surge of pleasure that grew and grew with every motion of Avery’s body up and down on Byron’s cockshaft.
“So good…” His voice broke, and he chuckled at himself. He stopped wiggling as his dick slid the rest of the way in, and Avery felt Byron’s kinky pubic hairs rubbing against his asscheeks. Byron’s hands flailed, then covered his face. “Ah shit, man…”
He must have been really horny — or embarrassment and anxiety turned him on — because Avery could feel his orgasm coming on almost right away. Luckily Avery himself was right behind, his prostate sending a wave of pleasure up his spine as Byron’s cock stimulated it.
Avery orgasmed quickly. He didn’t mean to, but he controlled everything about Byron’s body right now, and he could feel every inch of his jockish muscles flexing beneath Avery’s body. That made Avery moan and groan, stroking himself off until he shot a massive load that covered the linoleum floor beneath Byron’s feet.
It was Avery’s asshole clenching on Byron’s dick that sent him over the edge as well. Byron’s loud grunting and heaving grew frenzied, impassioned, and his hands gripped Avery’s back tightly. He held on as he lifted his hips up and really plowed Avery’s ass for the first time, letting Avery just stay there and enjoy it.
“Oh heck, yeah, this better work…” Byron moaned as he came. He hugged Avery from behind and held on tight.
Hot cum flew into Avery’s body, its creamy heat seeping through his flesh. He bit his lip and cried out, the sound dwarfed by Avery’s deeper rumbling grunts. They both sighed together as the sticky juices in Avery’s ass trickled throughout his body, coating him in Byron’s masculine scent inside and out.
Avery giggled. “You got a nice cock,” he said. “Are all Louisiana boys that good at this?”
His face was already red even before he came, and his orgasm made it even redder. So Byron didn’t show any reaction to Avery’s question even though it embarrassed him. “I dunno,” he said breathlessly, watching his cock plop out of Avery’s ass. “I never got cornholed by any Louisiana boys. Ship…”
“Well,” Avery said. He stepped off the massage table. “Lucky me.” He wiped off Byron’s sensitive cock and his own ass. He smiled at Byron. “Good luck at your game. If you win and want me to congratulate you, come back and see me. If you lose and want me to console you, come back and see me. Either way-” Avery touched his dick, which was so sensitive it made his whole body jerk, “-come back and see me.”
“I will.”

The Hobo

Carlos goes to a legendary homeless encampment in order to swing in the dirt with a filthy hobo named Tommy. He’s filthy, he’s drunk and he’s willing to let Carlos service his nasty homeless body.

Can Carlos get the raunchy manmeat he craves?

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Read the whole thing here!

Father Carlos brought food to the hobo encampment called Ditchway, out by the interstate in Jackson, Mississippi, but he didn’t wear his collar. The hardscrabble men who swamped the area from the hardware store parking lot to the highway tolerated him because he brought food, but it didn’t stop them from demanding other things. Mainly malt liquor, sometimes just plain cash. They lived in tents and cardboard boxes, strewn with radios and clothes hung up to dry like in a prison cell. Interspersed here and there were overturned shopping carts, municipal trash cans and legions of scavenged buckets, barrels and crates of all kinds.
But since he didn’t bring any alcohol or give them any cash, most of them left pretty soon after the meal. They headed off to panhandle during the evening rush hour. That left Carlos with Tommy Weathers, one of those poor benighted souls who live here. He was sober for now, but Tommy fully intended for that to be a temporary condition
Tommy was a broad shouldered white man with skin tanned brown as a Mexican, or a Texan at least. He was dirty, like all the rest, with greasy hair and smudges of filth all over his skin. He wasn’t exactly skinny, but he was lean, ropy-muscled and long-limbed, with a square jaw and deep-set, dark green eyes. He spoke with the accent of his native South Carolina, with a Low Country drawl that Carlos found alluring.
“I’s homeless on ‘ccount of my lying bitch of an ex-wife. Glenda Shay, that’s what she go by now. Got remarried, to an ‘ccountant who talks like a fuckin’ college professor. Glenda Shay. You know that bitch?”
“Uh… no.”
“If’n you evuh meet her, suh, you run far away,” he said. He ate the last of his hot dog and licked the ketchup off his fingertips. That’s what Carlos had brought him. He paid for it with his own money, not church funds. “I love ketchup. I put it on e’rything at the soup kitchen. I even put some in dat minestrone-” he pronounced it minnuhstrahn, as he licked ketchup out of his unkempt gray-tinged beard — “did that in lockup, yessuh. Pissed off this one off’cer so bad he swipe my head off. Said ya can’t put ketchup in soup. I lodge a complaint, suh, cuz I gots mah pride, even in lockup, yessuh, and I gots rights. I ain’t no Commie, ‘fter all. Ronald Reagan won, y’know. Dat guard gots an offishul reprimand, sho’ nuff, yessuh. I gots a right to put ketchup in dat minestrone.”
“Uh-huh. Ketchup in your minestrone, huh? I’ve never tried that. I think they put tomato paste in the broth anyway-“
“Mah mama always done say I eat so much ketchup mah head gonna turn into a tomatah, yessuh, she was a real saint, y’know. She always stand by me even when I get in trouble, yessuh.”
“Uh-huh-“
“But she pass on couple years back. I reckon it was for the best, she had dat livuh cancer, on ‘ccount of her drinkin’ like a Texan, y’know,” he said.
“Right.”
“Lordy, if she knew I was livin’ in the hobo camp with dem colored boys and a Chinaman, she would be rollin’ ovuh in dat grave,” he said.
“Sure, sure.” Carlos would have reprimanded him about his language if he was here in an official capacity. That’s why Carlos had come all the way to the far side of Jackson, Mississippi. He didn’t want to meet anyone he knew as a priest. Carlos was not here in a priestly capacity, and he didn’t have to correct the man. “So, uh, you don’t have a girlfriend or anythin’?”
“Girlfriend? What the fuck you talkin’ ‘bout? Hobos don’t got girlfriends. There’s a female I know, she suck my dick sometime. She a whore though. She suck me off for free. She say I’m cute,” he said, beaming, showing off his gap-toothed grin. “But she ain’t been ‘round much no mo’. She got a pimp, say she can’t be givin’ out no freebies. He a black man, ya see. They don’t like dat. I ain’t prejudice. Just speakin’ the God’s honest truth.”
“Uh-huh.” Carlos cleared his throat. “You wanna bust a nut?”
“‘Course. You got a female?”
“I’ll give you five hundred bucks if you treat me like one. Treat me like a filthy whore,” Carlos said. His heart skipped a beat as Tommy looked him up and down.
He burped and frowned. “Five hun’red bucks is a lotta money,” he said. “You got beer?”
“No. You gotta do it before you start drinking,” Carlos said.
He nodded. “Fine. If you stiff me, I’s gonna rip yo’ goddamn head off.”
“Yes, sir,” Carlos said. His heart skipped a beat. He got on his knees in front of Tommy, who sat on the dirt in the woody copse of trees by the highway. Just twenty yards to the east was the onramp, and maybe fifty yards to the north was the highway itself. Cars whizzed by. The foliage was dense along the road though, with forsythia bushes in full bloom providing dense cover and rendering this piece of wilderness cut off from the outside world. A couple dozen tents and sleeping bags were scattered around, and the remains of two campfires. Empty bottles of liquor and abandoned crackpipes lay scattered like headstones after a tornado.
Tommy burped up a rancid smell, then apologized. Carlos ignored it. He undid Tommy’s belt and made him lift his ass up so Tommy could lower his pants. His fat cock flopped out of his tattered prison-issue boxer shorts.
“Hang on just a moment, suh, I gotta beg fo’ forgiveness fo’ mah everbegottened lusts,” Tommy said. He moved his dick out of the way at the last moment as Carlos tried to take it in his mouth. Tommy closed his eyes and looked up at the sky. He clasped his hands together and murmured a prayer. Carlos didn’t hear the words, he just sat quietly watching Tommy’s greasy dick sway between his legs. His mouth watered like a hungry dog.
It felt good that nobody knew he was a priest. He didn’t have be in charge, didn’t have to report anything to the archbishop, didn’t have to be the voice of moral clarity. He could just be. He didn’t pray. Carlo kneeled before Tommy’s cock, which dangled and sway as he prayed in a rumbling murmur that Carlos didn’t hear.
Then at last Tommy finished praying. He smiled down at Carlos and flopped his dick between his fingers. Then he thwacked it over Carlos’s face.
“God say it’s alright, cuz I gots a need, man,” Tommy said. “I got real pain, and I gotta do what I gotta do. He do want me to get a promise from you though.”
“Oh, what?”
“Go to church,” he said.
“Oh…”
“Just go one time,” he said. “God will forgive you your trespasses, suh. He always do.”
“Okay, okay, I’ll go,” Carlos said. His heart quickened, because he felt like he was getting away with something not mentioning that he was a priest. Normally it was all anybody could see him as. They only ever spoke to him as a priest, even in a casual setting. This was the first time in a long time he’d spoke to someone who didn’t know.
“Alright. If He can forgive me, suh, He can forgive you, fo’ sho’,” he said. “You get a man off good? Wit’cha mouth? Huh?”
“Real good,” Carlos said. He licked his lips and opened his mouth as wide as possible. He wiggled his tongue right in front of Tommy’s cock.
Tommy smiled. He pushed his dick in, its limp, long shaft filling Carlos’s mouth with raunchy, sweaty flesh. It tasted like soil: dry, dusty, infertile dirt, but with a thick, greasy texture that Carlos loved. He felt a shiver of desire run through him. His heart raced as fast as the cars flying by just past the trees and forsythias that lined the hobo camp.
He opened his throat and let that deliciously nasty cock slide down it. Sometimes jerking off hobos was a double-edged sword — all that nastiness and filthy Carlos craved made them unhealthy, cocks unable to get hard (especially if they smoked crack). But Tommy was not a crackhead, and his dick popped right into full erection in Carlos’s mouth. It tasted stale but warm and savory, yeasty like good bread or bad beer. He sniffed deeply of it like a sacraent.
“Ooh, boy, you handle my dick nice, damn, that feels good,” Tommy said with a hoot. He pulled out a ziploc baggie filled with cigarette butts he had scavenged from a public ashtray. He lit one that still had a good half-inch of unsmoked cigarette. He took a deep breath and exhaled it right into Carlos’s face.
The acrid smoke brought tears to his eyes, as did lack of oxygen as he kept guzzling down cockmeat. Carlos pushed his head down until his nose nuzzled Tommy’s unkempt pubic bush. Tommy gasped like he was surprised, and a shiver of pleasure visibly shook his spine. Tommy licked his teeth.
“Damn, boy, you swallow like a sissy in prison, hell yeah,” Tommy said. He groaned as he took a deep breath. Then he grabbed Carlos’s ears and pulled his head off his cock. “Hey. Can I throat down ya face, boy? You okay wit’ dat?”
“Yes, please do,” Carlos said through his gasps for air.
“You nasty,” he said. He dropped the cigarette butt, smoked down to the filter, on the muddy ground. Then he stood up. He gave his dick one stroke and then grabbed Carlos by the ear again. “Open up.”
He fed his dick down Carlos’s throat inch by inch. When he got almost the whole thing down there, Carlos instinctively choked and sputtered. Tommy gripped his ears tighter and shook his head, causing a torrent of more choking.
“Nah, open up, you payin’ fo’ it, now take it,” Tommy said through his thin lips. He closed his eyes and groaned, his hips gyrating as he slammed his dick in.
At last that entire shaft throbbed in Tommy’s throat. Precum flowed like water from a hose, coating his entire gullet. It had a thick texture and a savory flavor that made Tommy crave more.
Tommy grumbled. “Don’t get the wrong impression ‘bout me, suh. I ain’t ram no sissy in prison, no sir. That’s just an ‘xpression I learned, and I ain’t nevuh ramrod no one in prison neither. God don’t like ugly. So that’s what I, uh… My time behind bars was a time of spirit’al reflection, suh, and I used that time to get closuh to God hisself. God is, uh, there… in, uh… God is in a’rrything, you know. In the soul of the…” He blinked and twitched as another surge of pleasure visibly wafted through the taut musculature. He must have forgot the point he had been failing to make. “Prison food was real bad, suh, you don’t even know.”
He kept talking about God and his time in prison, but he continued to lose track of his thoughts as well. He seemed to almost forget that his dick was in Carlos’s throat until there was a tiny bit of give, and Carlos almost backed off. Then he growled, grabbed Carlos’s ears again and held on tight as he moved his hips in circles, hitting every corner of Carlos’s throat.
“Reckon there was a lot of sissies in lockup, yessuh, you prolly know some of ‘em. Like a Julius. You know Julius…? I dunno his last name. Got big soft lips. I rammed him one time cuz he ast me to,” Tommy said.
He didn’t give Carlos time to actually answer whether or not he knew Julius. Carlos was more focused on working that greasy dickshaft to full tumescence. It was now moist with clumps of spit and precum. The dusty hobo camp ground beneath Tommy’s feet was turning wet with all the fluids that dripped from Carlos’s mouth.
“Keep yer mouth open, boy,” Tommy said. He pulled away and used his fingers to keep Carlos’s mouth open even as Carlos heaved and writhed, grabbing for air. “Gonna give you a prison-kiss. This is how the Mexicans show they love in lockup, man,” he said. He pursed his lips like he was going to kiss, but then just filled his own mouth with saliva and spat into Carlos’s open gullet. His spit tasted like dirt and made Carlos moan with desire. Tommy spat again, then again, this time making sure it landed right on Carlos’s nose, a hot stinking puddle of alpha male redneck nastiness stinking up his nostrils.
Carlos inhaled deeply of it, his mind swimming from lack of oxygen and intense arousal. Tommy didn’t wait long before pushing his dick back in again.
“We call dat throat lube, suh, yes we do,” Tommy said. He cackled and resumed drilling Carlos’s throat. “Get yo’ head down on the ground then, suh, if’n ya please. Get real low in the dirt.”
Carlos laid on his back on the ground. Tommy mounted his head, aiming his dick down so he could just lower himself as well. He was virtually laying down now, with his cock aimed down Carlos’s throat.
And then he began humping. He gyrated his hips like he was fucking an actual pussy, while Carlos’s spit-slickened throat allowed him to get his entire dick down there once more. Tommy’s nasty, sweat-dripping balls landed on Carlos’s nose, so Carlos was overwhelmed by a torrent of raunch covering every part of his face. All he could see was the filth and the hair of Tommy’s balls, taint and asscheeks.
Eventually Tommy pulled off. He looked disappointed in himself. “You want me to get you up the ass too, right?”
“Yeah…” Carlos was too starved for oxygen to say anything else. He gasped. “Can I… Can I lick your ass first?”
Tommy stopped moving and his smile turned into a frown. He furrowed his brow like he was trying to understand Carlos. “You wanna lick hobo ass?”
“God yes, please…” Carlos felt like crying. He was on his knees, so his head lined up with Tommy’s ass anyway. He stuck his nose in the air and sniffed the raunchy ass scent. It was almost enough to make him cum.
“Fine. But just for a minute or two, that’s nasty,” Tommy said with pursed lips, like he was seriously annoyed with Carlos for asking.
Carlos tried to separate Tommy’s cheeks, but Tommy just unceremoniously sat. He didn’t even lower himself slowly, he let Carlos stick his face in Tommy’s hairy ass and then sat down. He squatted like he was about to do a high jump, and most of his weight was on Carlos’s face.
Carlos had no idea how long the rimjob lasted. He was so overwhelmed by the suddenness of it and by the weight of Tommy’s body on his face that he was dizzy from the moment it began. Unfiltered masculine scents assaulted his nostrils. It smelled like dirty underwear or like a crowd of men, like an entire worksite’s worth of men all sitting on his face at once.
His tongue pushed past the layer of thick hair in Tommy’s asscrack. He groaned and moaned, and he even began rubbing his own dick through his jeans — a lot of men were annoyed by the sight of men masturbating, so Carlos kept it low-key. It didn’t look like Tommy really noticed anyway.
“You one nasty freak,” Tommy said with a laugh that shook his entire wiry frame. His ropy thigh muscles trembled, asscheeks flexing around Carlos’s tongue as though he was trying to hold onto it. His voice wavered as he spoke, when a surge of pleasure wracked his body from his prostate to his neck.
Carlos gurgled, letting a big mouthful of spit fill Tommy’s ass before it overflowed back onto Carlos’s face. Carlos groaned. His hands roamed over Tommy’s dick, the veiny shaft spasming beneath his fingers.
Tommy groaned like he was surprised at how good this felt. He murmured incomprehensibly to himself, and he rubbed his ass all over Carlos’s tongue. He moved it up and down, penetrating himself in his asshole with Carlos’s muscular tongue, which grew to be coated with Tommy’s masculine funk. His ass was taut and firm as iron, cuz he ate so little, but it was also strong, cords of firm muscles etched into his tight frame.
“Damn, you one nasty-ass boi,” Tommy said with a cackle. He stood up and pushed Carlos to roll over. “Lemme get in dat ass. Open up. I say open up. Get yer head down in the muck. That’s where God wants ya till you get forgiveness.”
He pushed Carlos’s face into the mud and aimed his dick right for Carlos’s ass. He groaned when it slid in and a bolt of pain erupted in Carlos’s body. As he always did it, he gritted his teeth as he struggled to bear it.
But at last the pain melted away into a tense, uncontrollable pleasure that spread through his body like a convulsion. Tommy was relentless, completely ignoring Carlos’s struggle and his body’s instinctive resistance.
“You want it, suh? Huh? You really like this?”
“Yes, please, god, stick it in me…” Carlos said with a moan, choking on a mouth full of mud and cigarette butts.
“Don’t you dare ask God fo’ dat, suh, I can still walk ‘way. Ain’t gonna tol’rate ya disrespectin’ God,” he said. He stopped moving with his dick deep in Carlos’s ass, hand holding onto Carlos’s hair. Tommy frowned down at Carlos. “Ain’t no man’s dick worth ya eternal soul, young man-“
“Okay, yes, I’m sorry. I won’t use the Lord’s name in… whatever. Please just get back to it me, Tommy, go at me as hard as you can,” Carlos said breathlessly.
“I will,” Tommy said. He sniffled. He laid his wiry chest on Carlos’s back and pounded away. He groaned and grunted right into Carlos’s ear, and he cackled with laughter again as he rubbed muddy dirt into Carlos’s face. “You like it dirty, right? Ain’t you say dat? Take some dirt then, suh. Open up.”
He shoved clumps of dirt into Carlos’s mouth, making him gag and sputter as he tried to jack himself off. Carlos couldn’t reach his own crotch though. All he could do was submit to Tommy’s frenzied pounding, his drilling away at Carlos’s asshole.
“Ew, what the fuck-?”
“Aw damn, that is some nasty shit right there.”
“I knew he weren’t just comin’ up in he’e to give up some food. I tol’ you dat.”
“You said he was gonna try ‘nd fuck Lisa wit’out payin’.”
A foursome of hobos had appeared in the woods, having returned from panhandling. They all groaned like they were disgusted by Carlos getting it up the ass from Tommy, but no one turned around or even faced a different direction. They seemed both disgusted and excited by it.
“Aw fuck, go ‘way, guys, I’m… busy, alright?” Tommy blushed, but he didn’t stop. “Hey where mah money at?” he asked Carlos. He didn’t wait for a response. He grabbed Carlos’s wallet out of his pants, then pulled out the five hundred dollars in it, as well as the spare fifty bucks that Carlos kept hidden. He swiped the three crackpipes sitting in the dirt. Then he gave one of the other hobos some money, all without missing a beat or slowing down his deep-dicking. “Go get us whiskey. I got all yo’ crackpipes so don’t you dare blow it all on crack. You can buy one rock wit’ dat, bring it back and share it. The whiskey is just for me, but we celebrate this filthy bitch wit’ some crack.” He smacked Carlos’s ass. “Ya got it?”
Yo, gimme some mo’ of dat money-
“Nah, I’s the one gettin’ paid,” Tommy said. “It’s my money. I’s puttin’ my eternal soul at risk by doin’ the nasty wit’ a male. Go on then, get some whiskey and crack and I gonna keep us in clover for a week wit’ this cash. Maybe longer if’n I wreck this man’s ass so good he keep comin’ back for more.”
The hobos grumbled, but took the money and walked away. Tommy scoffed and spat at them. “Fuckin’ pieces of shit, man, I swear. They ain’t God-fearin’ like me,” he said. He looked at Carlos then like this was the first time he had really seen him. He peered into his eyes. “You really enjoyin’ yerself, ain’t ya?”
“Yeah…” Carlos gasped. He managed to finish himself off then, blowing a massive load of cum into the dirt. His whole body tensed as waves of bliss spread through. His fingers and toes tighteneed, and Carlos gasped. He shot a bigger load than he had ever seen.
“Reckon I don’t ‘pprove. When I was growin’ up, a man’d only take it up behind as a punishment, like in boot camp. That’s how my pa raised me — he was a drill sergeant: strict but fair,” Tommy said. “Now this part is gonna hurt, suh. Here, you can bite on my arm.” He placed his smudged forearm in front of Carlos’s mouth.
Carlos knew he could take it, but he nibbled on the worn flesh there, feeling the toned muscles underneath the skin. Tommy sped up his rhythm, groaning and grunting with each flex of his hips.
The pain did grow worse, and Carlos bit down hard enough that he tasted a single drop of coppery blood. Tommy didn’t seem to notice; he just slammed his hips, ramming his dick all the way in as he nutted. His balls crawled up in his sac. A shudder of pain or desire or disgust ran up Tommy’s body.
A load of rancid hobo cum filled Carlos’s ass, a big arcing jet of juices that seeped into his flesh. It was hot and thick, sticky, clinging to every inch of Carlos’s body. Carlos groaned.
It was the most intense orgasm of Carlos’s life, while Tommy reacted as though it was a painful climax. He grunted and snorted, sniffling like an angry bull. He spat over and over onto the back of Carlos’s neck, while grinding his cock so deeply in Carlos’s ass that Carlos couldn’t help but bite down hard on Tommy’s forearm.
Carlos finally stopped squirming. He sighed, totally spent, his gaping ass now in utter submission to Tommy’s rapidly limpening manhood.
“Alright, suh, I’s done,” Tommy said. “Reckon I cornholed you good, right? You ain’t feel cheated, right? You got yer money’s worth?”
“Yeah…” Carlos was too overwhelmed by sensations in his asshole to really respond. He moaned.
“Good. I ain’t wanna cheat ya.” He pulled out and sighed. He stroked his slimy dick, using a hand to get all of those nasty fluids off. He wiped it onto Carlos’s bare ass. He wrinkled his nose. He sat back in the dirt, his spent dick and low-hanging balls dragging in the mud between his legs. He frowned. “I gotta take a piss. You into piss?”
“Uh, no thanks,” Carlos said. He was exhausted, and he was worried about those other hobos now that they knew he could afford to pay Tommy five hundred dollars. Who knew what they might do when they came back with alcohol and crack?
So Carlos just hurried up and got dressed. His body was covered in mud and redneck sweat, not to mention cum still dripping down his ass. Tommy ignored him as he pissed into the rancid dirt of the Ditchway homeless encampment. He looked like he was getting antsy waiting for his whiskey and crack.
“Wait, suh,” Tommy said before Carlos left. “Lemme do one more thing, so anyone who smell you know you’s my bitch.” He pried Carlos’s jaw open, then spat a stinking load of saliva into Carlos’s mouth. “Don’t you go payin’ some other hobo for dick. You come back to me, suh. Ya hear? You mine now.”
“Okay. Yes, sir, I promise,” Carlos said as he walked away, his mouth gurgling over the fetid wad of saliva on his tongue. Despite that, he had no plans on coming back. If he did, sooner or later someone would identify him, and Carlos didn’t want that.
Next time, he’d hafta find a different source of raunchy alpha male men who don’t know him. Luckily, there was a whole world of rough trade out there, and Carlos was eager to get started.