Raython is a college football star who needs something from twinky barber Desmond. If Raython’s going to get into the frat of his choice, this cocky football jock has gotta let Desmond have a taste… and more of Raython’s throbbing manmeat! Can handsome prettyboy Raython perform when he really needs it?
Read the whole thing here!
Desmond knew who Raython Lake was before he came into the barbershop. Raython was the starting running back for the GHU Titans, and around here, that meant everyone knew his name. Desmond didn’t have to watch college football to know who he was. Raython entered the City Barbershop one sunny Saturday with the cocky strut of a man used to having skinny white girls on each arm. With dimples like those, Desmond knew that was exactly where he got that strut from. He was the kind of stud that girls fell head over heels in love with and guys hated from the moment they laid eyes on him. He looked arrogant, mean, bullying, haughty. Despite his handsomeness, Raython turned Desmond off from the moment he walked in.
Or rather, he turned him on, but also off. Desmond appreciated Raython’s physique, as probably all people did, you’d have to be a sociopath not to be allured by him, but he was mentally turned off by Raython’s personality and indeed his very demeanor. Something about the way he carried himself made Desmond want to punch him in the face. And then rub his shoulders and jerk him off. Then maybe punch him in the face again.
Raython was that kind of man.
“Yo, hey, you Desmond, right, my man?” Raython said. He flashed a grin and slapped hands with Desmond. He spoke like he was used to charming people and had no awareness that some people found him grating and off-putting, like he wasn’t even aware it was possible to dislike him.
“That’s right. I’m Desmond,” he said. He looked away and pouted, rearranging the selfies he had posted over his mirror, hoping to look nonchalant. Desmond didn’t like to let alphas like Raython have unbridled power over him. Raython did have such power over him, which was why Desmond spent so much energy acting nonchalant. He knew what Raython wanted, so he was going to make him work for it. Raython happened to arrive while the other barbers were out at lunch. Desmond was minding the shop alone.
“Well, I’m Raython, I was hopin’ you might jack a nigga dick, y’know… whatever….” He sniffed. “And you know… whatever.” He shuffled his weight between his feet like a man who was not used to being unsure of himself. “I got… other requirements, or whatever.”
“Requirements?”
“Yeah… You know… It’s, uh… Can we go in the back to talk?”
“I’m not really supposed to leave the front room until the other barbers get back,” Desmond said. He crossed his arms over his chest. He let out a wan smile. “Besides, I’m not sure I want to jack you off.”
“What? Why not?” He furrowed his brow. He had definitely not been turned down very often. He looked around as though there must be some emergency preventing Desmond from agreeing. He snorted and rubbed his nose.
Desmond shrugged nonchalantly. “You’re kind of a prettyboy. Not my type. Have you got the goods?”
Raython dropped to his knees and pulled his shirt off. He had a perfect chest, six-pack abs and a v-shaped torso. Again, he looked around the empty room as if this might be a secret-camera reality show. He flexed his biceps. “Yo, come on? You know it.” When that didn’t immediately work, he kissed each bicep, and he flexed each pec in turn.
And again, or rather still, he bestowed his arrogant gaze upon Desmond, who shrugged.
“Hmmm… Nice…” Desmond pretended to ponder it — Raython was a jerk, but Desmond did want to taste every part of his body. The college school year had only just begun, so a lot of new niggas were coming in this way. Desmond’s barbershop was the closest black barbershop to the GHU campus. It sometimes took awhile for the black men from away to discover where to get their haircut, but they inevitably came a-calling, and Raython was no different. Plenty of them probably had Cityside Barbershops back in their home ‘hoods. Most likely they all did. Most inner-city neighborhoods had a Cityside Barbershop, and most of those locations had a barber like Desmond, a small twink with a smooth, hairless body, a girlish shape and a willingness to service the alphas, thugs and jocks who came by to get their hair cut and their needs serviced. Raython had an expectant face on. Desmond’s hand roamed over Raython’s solid pectoral muscle, which throbbed beneath his touch. Raython smiled, flashing those dimples. Raython picked up Desmond’s hand and kissed it like a proposing prince.
Raython leaned forward and kissed Desmond on the earlobe, making Desmond’s taut twink body shudder with anticipation. His lips stayed on Desmond’s sensitive skin, and Raython gently nibbled the earlobe. That made Desmond suck back a howl of desire. Raython’s muscles rippled and exuded heat behind him. Raython chuckled, his voice smooth and dry as a wind-swept rock, and he whispered in Desmond’s ear. “You can pretend all you want, but I know you want my dick. I can see it in yo’ eyes.”
He picked Desmond up in his powerful running-back arms and carried him into the backroom. Once they actually got past the door, it wasn’t realistic to carry him like that — the corridor was lined with shelves and was too narrow. So he hefted Desmond up over his bare shoulder like a sac of flour. Desmond squealed, and he clutched Raython’s powerful shoulders to stay on his back.
They went to the back storage area, which had a little more space. Raython put Desmond down and pulled a clipboard out of his bag. Desmond was dizzy. He kept his grip on Raython’s body for support, his hands slipping under Raython’s pants to tease his juicy asscheeks.
“Yo, uh… You gotta sign this.” Raython handed over the clipboard as Desmond goosed his ass, which Raython ignored.
“What?” This was the part Desmond knew about — he’d been in this area for awhile, and he knew about the Kappa Kappa Pi initiation procedures — but he didn’t let on that he was already aware of what was going on. He read the paper on the clipboard like he had no idea what it said.
The gist of it was that Raython had signed a bet regarding his skill at throwing a football, there was more football jargon involved, but Desmond skipped over it. The upshot of the bet was that some cheerleader was gonna fuck him in the locker room. The downside of the bet was that Raython had to cornhole “the man of his choosing, with light foreplay and a reacharound” — the document was written in some no-doubt weed-induced late-night fit of semi-serious pseudo-legalistic wording — if he lost.
As had come to happen, Raython had lost. He probably fucked the cheerleader in the locker room anyway. Desmond certainly would, if he were Raython or if he were a cheerleader.
“So you have to cornhole me ‘with light foreplay and a reacharound’? And I have to sign this thing, since none of your teammates wanted to come watch to verify it?”
Raython flashed his dimples again and shrugged. “Yep, that’s it. No big deal. They thought I’d be upset about it or some shit. I ain’t.”
“Have you ever done it before?”
“Nah, nigga. I got girls,” Raython said as though that should have been obvious. “I got females beatin’ down doors to get they mouths on my meat. Swear to God. White girls. Nice white girls.”
“So what counts as ‘light foreplay’?”
Raython groaned. “That’s, uh… up to you. But you can’t put nothin’ in my asshole. No way. And I ain’t putting my mouth on yo’ dick, nosirree. But that’s, you know… you can do basically anything else.”
“Hmm-“
“And no fingerin’ nothing — you can grope, but no fingers, and no, you know… No doin’ nothin’ gross. No peepee. None of that nasty-nasty, you know, like prison booty bandit shit. I ain’t no nigga’s fool,” Raython said. “I keep a firm veto. But you can do whatevuh.”
“I see… You said I can’t put nothin’ in your asshole, but does that include my tongue?”
Raython chuckled. His eyes opened wide. “No. That’s fine. You can do that. Rimjobs is fine.” He paused. “That ain’t ‘light foreplay’ though, nigga. That’s heavy. Medium at least. Girls don’t do rimjobs as foreplay.”
“Girls are dumb as donuts,” Desmond said. “And I don’t do light foreplay.” He licked his lips. “I start at a heavy medium.” He stepped forward and planted his lips on Raython’s. Raython jerked and stiffened, his muscles all flexing. He stood up straight, requiring Desmond to jump up and mount his muscular torso to keep his mouth on Raython’s.
That was not a problem for Desmond, who enjoyed climbing up Raython’s powerful body. The more Desmond wrapped his body around Raython’s torso, the stiffer Raython was and the more Desmond had to climb all over him in order to kiss him on the lips. Raython bristled, and he scrunched his eyes up, but he didn’t make Desmond stop.
Raython stood straight up like a statue. He didn’t kiss Desmond back either. Desmond gripped his shoulders and wrapped his feet around Raython’s chest. His tongue plunged into Raython’s mouth. Still, Raython just submitted as though he was paying attention to something else, like this kiss was a purely physical exercise of no more importance the bicep curls he no doubt performed daily in front of a mirror. His arms stiffly dangled at his side.
“Kiss me back. That’s part of foreplay,” Desmond said. He licked his lips. “That’s not how you kiss a girl, is it?”
“Nah, nigga.”
“Then kiss me properly.” Desmond kissed Raython on the neck with enough fervor to possibly leave a hickey, which was enough to get Raython to react.
Raython wrinkled his nose and nodded. He planted his tongue in Desmond’s mouth. He was actually an excellent kisser, Desmond was surprised because very handsome men were often bad kissers in general and were almost always bad kissers when Desmond got his lips on them, they got enough girls that they weren’t used to pretending to be passionate when they were not. Raython, however, kissed like he had been waiting for this moment.
No wonder all the girls on campus loved him. Desmond had no proof that was true, but he was certain it was.
Desmond lost himself in Raython’s arms and his mouth. Raython finally gripped Desmond’s back and ass with his hands, supporting him so Desmond could focus on kissing him. His strong hands dug into Desmond’s perky asscheeks, making Desmond wonder if he held onto girls’s asses so firmly. Desmond hoped so. That was exactly how he liked to be treated.
Eventually Raython gently pulled away. He licked his teeth with a cocky sneer on his face. “You kiss like a girl,” he said.
“And you kiss like a man. You’ve never done this before?” Desmond asked.
“Nope.” He put Desmond on the ground and turned around. He put both hands on the wall as though he was being arrested. He jutted his ass out.
Desmond pulled his pants down, baring that plump brown ass. It was perfectly round, soft and firm at the same time, with just a bit of hair on the crack. Desmond kissed each cheek, making them jiggle. Despite being cooped up in his pants until moments ago, his skin tasted clean and fresh.
A groan came from Raython, who spread his legs like he was expecting to be searched. Or maybe he just really liked Desmond kissing, licking and slurping on his asscheeks and didn’t want to show it, so he covered up his moan of desire with that annoyed groan. His looping, arching back muscles all flexed at once above Desmond’s head.
“You’re a lot more comfortable with this than I expected,” Desmond said. He spread Raython’s ass and dove his tongue right in. Raython’s hole was tight, and Raython yelped when Desmond’s tongue entered it. Even this deep in his ass, Raython tasted very clean, he must have scrubbed up right before coming here. He tasted of cologne, cocoa butter and soap, like a fancy girlish soap with flowers and fruit in it.
“My brother got a nigga…” His voice trailed off like he hadn’t meant to share this, but was distracted by the pleasure in his ass. “I mean…” Raython said, mumbling as he endured Desmond’s rimjob. Desmond giggled, glad to get Raython nervous again. He was just so arrogant and handsome that Desmond felt a deep, abiding urge to make him nervous.
Desmond rammed his tongue in deep. He used a finger to tease the rim, and Raython didn’t complain. Desmond didn’t actually push his finger in, since Raython had said only his tongue was allowed, but Desmond did rub his asscrack and the edge of his hole with one delicate pinkie finger. Raython’s voice rumbled like he was thinking about finishing his story about his brother’s nigga, but then all that came out was another simmering groan. Raython jutted his ass back, giving Desmond better access to lap at his butthole.
“Your brother has a nigga?” As soon as Desmond said that, he jammed his tongue in and aimed it right for Raython’s prostate. He slapped his tongue at it, making Raython’s whole body ripple as pleasure coursed through him.
“He-eeeeee…” Raython tried to answer, but when Desmond’s tongue got deep in there, his words turned into a meaningless moan, as he was unable now to hide how good this felt. Raython even lifted one of his feet like a dog getting scratched in a sensitive spot. Raython’s knees buckled and he almost fell over. “Fuckin’ hell, man… When girls lick my asshole, it ain’t like this…”
“Girls probably lick your ass, not inside your asshole. Girls don’t lick prostates,” Desmond said. “Or at least, not the kind of girls you’d go for.” He smirked and did it again. This time Raython moaned and grunted so passionately his knees did buckle. Raython went down to the ground on all fours, his ass high in the air to give Desmond easy access to it. Desmond ran his tongue all the way from Raython’s taint to the small of his back.
“Yeah… Damn…” Raython said. He cleared his throat and chuckled. “Shit… Okay, swallow my dick now, damn.”
He got up on his feet again, and leaned against the wall. He closed his eyes. Once again, that arrogant jock look was back. His fat cock was rock-hard — he must have really enjoyed that rimjob — and it twitched, visibly on the verge of spewing precum. Its twitches were synced with the rippling and flexing of Raython’s broad chest.
Raython opened his eyes when he realized Desmond hadn’t started yet. He touched his dick, then let go, then touched it again, then let go, and his hands fluttered in the air above Desmond’s head.
“And I’m just supposed to kneel on the concrete?” Desmond asked. He pointed to a pile of blankets on one of the shelves. “Make a little bed for us.”
“Man, I was just on all fours, I ain’t complain…” Raython rolled his eyes and sighed like a kid being told to clean his room, but he did what he was told. He got the blankets down and spread them over the floor. He even added a small pillow for Desmond’s knees. Then he laid down on his back at Desmond’s direction. “Man… We ain’t makin’ love, nigga. Like my brother.”
“What? Tell me about yo’ brother.”
“I ain’t s’posed to say nothin’. No snitchin’, y’know.”
“Your brother’s carrying on with a cop?!”
“No!”
“Then it’s not snitching, technically-“
“What do you know about snitching? You ain’t a gangsta? You a sissy.”
Desmond stopped with Raython’s cock in his hand, the spongy tip rubbing over Desmond’s lips. Desmond wasn’t really upset about being called a sissy. If you worked in a Cityside Barbershop and specialized in jacking off guys, it happened a lot. Desmond wasn’t worried about it. But Raython was a well-spoken and articulate young man in college, he should have known better. And besides that, Desmond thought he could get something more out of him if he made a big deal out of it.
“Donchu call me a sissy-“
“What? You is a…” Raython looked at his dick, throbbing in Desmond’s hand, and he flexed his hips to fuck Desmond’s hand, like he was only slowly figuring out why he didn’t feel Desmond’s mouth on his cock. “You’re mad?”
“You still haven’t told me about your brother and his nigga,” Desmond said. “Now I really wanna know,” Desmond said. He mounted Raython’s crotch and jousted his cock with Raython’s. Raython had a hefty piece of meat, but Desmond’s was substantially thicker. Raython wrinkled his nose like he was disappointed at the sight, and then he wrinkled it even harder when their precum mixed on his shaft. Desmond played with both dicks with one hand, while his other hand massaged Raython’s chest. “If you’re gonna call me names, we might have to move that foreplay up to ‘severe’.”
“Man…”
“I’m gonna keep jousting with you until you tell me what you were gonna say about your brother-“
He snapped, “My brother just got a nigga, okay? When he got outta lockup a couple years ago, he found some sissy dude. He brought him over. He live in my mom’s garage now. He rams his… He rans his ass all the damn time, man. He say it’s how real niggas is. He says thugs should have a couple females and one male. He out there in the garage goin’ at it, nigga. He do ram that boy so hard he knock shit off the walls in the house, man. Don’t you tell no one. He said I can’t spread it around. He said a man should have a couple females and one man but he should keep all but one female a secret. He ain’t keep his females a secret though. Or even his man really. Fuckin’ pansy-ass sissy… man.” His voice trailed off as Desmond swallowed his dick, just the tip at first but Desmond slathered his tongue upon it, and he choked up mouthloads of spit that ran down the shaft. Raython groaned and sighed, muscles relaxing now that he was being serviced again.
Desmond deep-throated him until his nose nestled in Raython’s hairy pubic bush. Desmond kneeled next to Raython, perpendicular to him. But as he kept working on Raython’s meat, he gradually spooned Raython until his cock was rubbing against Raython’s firm bicep. Raython either didn’t notice or didn’t care. Desmond’s precum smeared over his tattooed arms.
Precum flowed down Desmond’s throat, the bright salty flavor assaulting Desmond’s senses as Raython let out a rumbling roar of arousal. Raython gripped Desmond by the ear, guiding his head up and down at a slow but accelerating pace. He sucked on his lips and inhaled sharply as he did, like he had never felt this good. Desmond was proud of himself — that was his specialty, after all, he could make any man beg for more.
Eventually tears welled up in Desmond’s eyes, and he had to take a break to breathe. He gasped for air, stroking Raython’s dick furiously with both hands, while thick tendrils of spit connected Desmond’s face to Raython’s shaft.
“Holy fuck…” Raython moaned. “Shit… Why don’t girls do it like that?”
“Ugly girls do,” Desmond said. “Pretty girls don’t need to impress you with skill.” He giggled and massaged Raython’s chest before resuming his deep-throating. This time he openly humped Raython’s arm as he did. Raython still pretended he didn’t notice, even when Desmond’s dick smeared precum over his bicep, tricep and forearm, and Desmond even humped his armpit til it was greasy with precum.
Eventually Desmond was ready to move on, lest he blow his wad too early. He licked a trail from Raython’s cocktip to his root, then up his muscular chest. He nuzzled Raython’s neck, while Desmond’s bare cock spewed precum on Raython’s side, jetting it up to his ribs and all over his asscheek. Raython’s pecs flexed, one after the other.
“Wait… Are you gonna kiss me on the lips? You’ll taste like cock…”
“Does your brother kiss his man?”
“Yeah… He does nasty shit wit’ him. He says he only tops, but… I seen ‘im in there makin’ out and shit. Is that…?”
“Don’t worry, Raython. Don’t be so worked up about technicalities,” Desmond said. He kissed Raython on the lips again. This time, Raython was hesitant, especially when Desmond’s hard cock again pressed against Raython’s. Their precums mixed.
Raython was so focused on the kiss that he was surprised when Desmond sat down on his rod. His cock slid easily into Desmond’s ass. Desmond mounted him, facing him at first, but when Raython winced, Desmond knew that wasn’t going to work — Raython had to give a reacharound, but he wouldn’t do it if he had to watch as Desmond shot his load onto Raython’s face and chest. So Desmond had to ride him in a reverse-cowgirl position, facing Raython’s feet.
His ass hurt a little as Raython’s cock slipped in, but that lasted only a moment. His manhood throbbed and awakened a tingling sensation in Desmond’s asshole. Desmond winced and struggled to stretch himself open enough gradually he worked more and more of Raython’s meat into his ass. Each inch stretching into him sent a new wave of sensatiosn through Desmond’s body.
“Alright, nigga…” His hand hesitatingly closed around Desmond’s dick, which throbbed beneath his fingers.
Desmond giggled. He so rarely got a reacharound, it was always hot when it happened. He lifted his ass up and down, impaling himself on Raython’s cock while Raython began to stroke his rod. Raython’s thick hands wrapped around Desmond’s cock, which he didn’t need to handle much because Desmond was moving.
It was an awkward handjob, both because Raython was unpracticed and because he wasn’t watching himself. He didn’t want to see his hand wrapped around another man’s cock.
“Does your brother give his man a reacharound?”
Raython murmured, “Yeah, nigga. I think so. He eats his cum,” Raython said. “You can’t tell no one that. Tell everyone I gave you a shitty reacharound too.”
“It is a shitty reacharound.”
“Really?” Raython sounded like he had never been criticized. To his credit, he tried. He sped up his stroking and even used his other hand, holding onto the base of Desmond’s cock and teasing his balls with a gentle touch.
“That’s better, thanks,” Desmond said. Then he threw his head back and moaned. He lowered his shoulders until he rested on Raython’s chest. He turned his head to the side and licked the sweat off Raython’s nipples as he squirmed atop his cock.
At last both men reached orgasm at much the same time. Desmond used all of the focus at his disposal to delay himself until he felt Raython’s rod spray his nut deep into Desmond’s ass. It was a thick, hot load that coated Desmond’s prostate in creamy goodness. It flowed into him in spurts, and each time Raython’s whole body gyrated, his massive muscles all flexing at once, swallowing Desmond up in his arms while filling him up with jizz.
Desmond shot his nut onto his own chest and belly, not to mention Raython’s hands. Raython groaned with the power of his own orgasm — and no doubt a little disgust at the cum dripping from his fingers. Desmond’s load spurted into the concrete floor, while Raython jetted burst after burst of cum inside him.
As soon as he was done, Desmond scooted up on Raython’s chest. He kissed him again on the lips. His body was especially hot right now, its heat seeping into Desmond’s flesh. Desmond wanted to curl up on his chest and sleep there like a cat.
But when Raython felt he had kissed him a reasonable amount, he gently deposited Desmond onto the blanketed floor. Then he jumped up and jogged in place for a minute.
“Alright, nigga, sign that shit. We went well beyond ‘light foreplay’. Don’t put that on there, just sign it,” he said. He sighed. “You best not tell no one ’bout my brother. Or ’bout me. Or ’bout nothin’ at all. Just keep yo’ mouth shut till I come back to fill it again.” He laughed his cocky laugh and wagged his dick between his cum-dripping fingers.
“Okay, sure.” Desmond was too tired now to keep teasing him. He signed the paper.
“You got a shower in this place? Or at least a sink? You can watch me shower,” Raython said with a wink. “I know you want to.”
