in a closet – Mansploitation

Jocks in the Dark

Charlie and his football team threw a college party that was a bust, but it ends with Charlie playing Seven Minutes in Heaven with the stud of his dreams… and he follows it up with a nighttime sneaky bed-share that will rock his world!

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Charlie was disappointed when he got to the Halloween party. There weren’t many partygoers, just a bunch of jocks hanging out by themselves. Charlie went right to the two women, Claire and Lisa Anne, the only two who had shown up. That’s why the party was a failure: not enough women. The men had no reason to do more than sit around drinking beer and burping, because there were no women to impress or flirt with or annoy. Charlie spent most of his time at these sorts of college parties dancing with his female friends, while the other men dared each other to go talk to the girls. But there were only two women tonight.
It was while he danced with Claire and Lisa Anne that they were approached by one of the other football jocks, with an invitation to play a game.
“It’ll be a lot of fun,” said Jimmy, a tall, blond quarterback with a beery grin and broad shoulders. He was the most outgoing and popular person among the Kappas, so he was de facto in charge, or so it always seemed to Charlie — he was the team captain on the football team anyway, where Charlie was a tight end. The girls fawned over Jimmy, as they always did. He wore a toga as his Halloween costume, no doubt because it allowed him to bare his broad chest and bulging biceps. “C’mon, you’ll like it, girls,” he said pointedly, as though rather hoping Charlie wouldn’t play but unwilling to say so out loud. “Girls always like it, it’s — it’s silly, it’s just an immature little nothing… It doesn’t matter.” He blushed ran his fingers through his hair. “But you should play. The girls, you two, I mean, Claire and Lisa Anne. You’ll like it.”
“I’m in,” Charlie said, knowing perfectly well Jimmy didn’t want him to join in. Charlie wasn’t surprised by that. Jimmy only wanted the girls.
Charlie ignored his reticence, and he, with Claire and Lisa Anne, formed a small circle with a few other Kappa guys in the living room. It seemed they were about to start a game, and he wanted to be involved. The girls blushed — they had a crush on Jimmy, so they were willing to join in on whatever game he had proposed (Truth Or Dare? Spin the Bottle? Something like that, Charlie suspected). They were drunk enough to have few inhibitions.
This was at least livening up the party a little. Charlie was glad to see people laughing, instead of looking dejectedly into their beers. They all spread out in a circle in the living room, and Charlie sat next to one of his fellow football players with broad muscles and a musky smell coming from his unwashed armpits. He smelled like a jockstrap, Charlie thought. Claire and Lisa Anne had whispered something similar a few minutes ago, but they meant it as a bad thing. Charlie inhaled deeply of the scent, and he held it as long as he could.
“Seven Minutes in Heaven! Seven Minutes in Heaven! Seven Minutes in Heaven!” the jocks chanted as everyone got in a circle.
“Oh yeah-“
“Hope I get you, baby…”
“Hmm, girl, you look good enough to eat!”
Claire giggled and whispered in Lisa Anne’s ear, and whatever she said made Lisa Anne giggle as well. Claire said, “Okay, we’ll play.”
“Yeah,” Lisa Anne said, her face bright red and laughing. “You gotta go in with whoever you end up with, and that’s it. No switching or refusing after we start.”
Claire hugged Lisa Anne and kissed her on the neck, making all of the boys open their eyes wide and gawk. They giggled. “Yeah, we’ll totally do it with each other if that’s what the game says. You boys have to do the same thing though. You just might have to get each other off.”
“Hmm, hopefully…”
“That’d be so cool!”
“It’s such a turn-on!” Claire and Lisa Anne were laying it on thick, hands clutching each other. The young men who filled up the party watched with wide eyes, and they all nodded their agreement even though not a single one paid attention what they said.
With the exception of Charlie. He did listen, and he was eager to get started.
The odds were good, nearly a guarantee, that Charlie would be paired up with one of his teammates, who filled up the game. He played it nonchalant though, looking as reluctant as the others, though Charlie didn’t understand what they were reluctant about.
“So we’ll have to get each other off…”
“Man, shit, they’re gonna do girl-girl stuff!”
“They’re gonna be in a closet with the door closed…”
“So?! We can hear, dude. We’ll hear them!”
Now it was Jimmy’s turn to blush and hesitate. He ran his fingers through his thick blond hair. He looked over to his other teammates, who exchanged nervous glances. No one appeared ready to say no, however. With only two women at the party, they all were willing to do anything Claire and Lisa Anne wanted to do.
“Fine…” Jimmy said finally. He tried to make it sound like he was really fine with this, but it was apparent that it made him nervous — but there was really only a small chance that he would end up with a man. It looked like he was annoyed at having to do all this just to hook up with two girls, but he wasn’t about to fail to hook up with them. His masculine image virtually required him to
The Kappa house often settled disputes by drawing straws, so they did that again to decide who was with whom for this game: Seven Minutes in Heaven. One of the other frat brothers pulled them out, and they each took one — there were four males here and only two females, so it was apparent that (at least) two men would wind up with each other.
Jimmy prayed it would be him as he drew a long straw. He was desperate to match up with Lisa Anne. Or Claire, Jimmy didn’t care. He would give either girl seven minutes in heaven.
Claire revealed her straw first. It was short, and it matched up with Tuck, who grinned like a cocky bastard as he nodded towards the hallway closet. Him and Claire headed in that direction. Then Lisa Anne showed off her straw, a medium-length one that matched up with George’s.
That was it. That was the two girls taken. The remaining players avoided making eye contact with each other.
Charlie’s heart sped up as he looked up at Jimmy, the both of them realizing at the same time that their straws matched. The girls giggled and blushed, fawning over Jimmy, whose broad muscles twitched nervously. They laughed at his blatant anxiety, while he himself cursed his luck for not getting either of the girls. Jimmy looked more angry than disappointed. He wasn’t often told no, and he crackled with energy as though about to punch the girls for having failed to draw his straw.
The three pairs split off. Lisa Anne and George went into the pantry — which held nothing but beer — leaving the utility closet for Charlie and Jimmy. They stopped outside the door.
“We don’t have to go in there,” Charlie said. “No one will see if you don’t want to do it.”
The door at the other end of the hall opened. Claire stuck her head out. “I heard that! You agreed to play this game, bastards! You better do it!” She giggled along with herself, and in the pantry Lisa Anne giggled as well. She shouted something that was too muffled to be heard, but Charlie got the gist of it: she was demanding that Charlie and Jimmy play the game.
Jimmy opened the door and went in. Charlie followed nervously. “Seven minutes, huh?” Charlie said as he followed Jimmy in. The utility closet smelled of cleaning supplies, which were overpowering now that the door was shut. It was pitch-black in here too, so all Charlie could sense was the smell of detergent.
Then Jimmy flicked the light on. It was just a bare bulb, and it blinded Charlie at first, but then bathed the closet in warm light. Charlie was intimately aware of how close he was to Jimmy, whose football player body bulged from the Roman toga he wore. All Charlie could think about was that his hand was about an inch from Jimmy’s cock, with only a sheet separating them (Jimmy had made a big deal about not wearing any underwear under his toga).
“We don’t have to do anything,” Charlie said softly. He felt small and weak next to Jimmy, who grunted his acknowledgement. His heart fluttered. Despite his words, he hoped desperately that Jimmy would go through with it.
“That’s right,” Jimmy said. His voice was low and gruff, as though he didn’t want to be heard. His breath condensed on Charlie’s cheek. One of his hands gripped Charlie’s shoulder firmly. His hand slowly moved down Charlie’s body, then moved to his arm and finally his hand.
Charlie wished he had started drinking before this. Charlie was suddenly very nervous. Why had Jimmy come in here and now was seemingly trying to touch Charlie?
Was he trying to hold hands? Charlie was astonished to feel Jimmy’s thick fingers grab his hand. That was about the last thing Charlie expected. Jimmy didn’t seem to have any inhibitions in here.
“We’ll just wait seven minutes,” Jimmy said. He whispered, but his voice still boomed in the tiny room. He arranged Charlie’s fingers to form a tube of sorts. “We won’t do anything. Nothing… You know, nothing that counts…”
Charlie realized what was happening only about a half a second before something warm and fleshy hit his hand. It was Jimmy’s cock. It was soft and thick, and it jerked as soon as Charlie touched it. Jimmy dragged Charlie’s hand to his crotch, and Charlie sucked in his breath.
“Jimmy, I thought you-?”
“Sssh, I ain’t gonna do nothin’, man,” Jimmy said, murmuring softly like he couldn’t admit even to himself what was happening. “Just hold ya hands still. Hand stuff isn’t, y’know… anything.” He used both of his hands to keep Charlie’s wrist and fingers still, and he began slowly humping his body back and forth. His dick slid limply through Charlie’s fingers.
He had such a huge cock. More than a foot long and thicker than any Charlie had seen. He’d spied Jimmy’s manhood in the shower, but it wasn’t erect then, and Jimmy kept it covered enough that Charlie caught only brief glimpses of it. Now, of course, he couldn’t see it at all, because the utility closet was dark as night, but it throbbed in his hand, which moved of its own accord up and down Jimmy’s shaft.
Charlie’s heart thumped. He couldn’t believe he was doing this. It felt so wrong, but at the same time, right — that was the point of this game, after all. Whatever they did here in the closet wouldn’t count, and they weren’t allowed to tell anyone about it later. Once the seven minutes were up, it was supposed to be as though it had never happened.
It was just jacking off anyway. Jacking off with the handsome quarterback with dimples and broad shoulders… the brash blond god who had been haunting Charlie’s dreams since the beginning of his freshman year.
“Uh, yeah…” Jimmy said slowly. His mouth was so close to Charlie’s ears now that the sound of Jimmy’s moan made him shudder. His breath condensed on Charlie’s head, which made Charlie speed up his breathing. Jimmy was very nearly kissing him, and the aroma of his hot breath hit Charlie’s nose.
Then Jimmy’s knees buckled and went weak. He grunted. His muscular body nearly fell, and Charlie instinctively reached out for him. His free hand grabbed Jimmy’s meaty frame through the toga. Though he wasn’t strong enough to provide much support, he did grip Jimmy’s chest and try to hold him up. Jimmy just leaned against the hot water heater, however. His pecs trembled beneath the robe of his toga.
His dick pulsated and throbbed in Charlie’s hands. Charlie heard a frenzy of female giggling from the pantry, which reminded him that the others were playing this game too. It sounded like the girls were having a great time with their men. Charlie wondered if they were having sex. It sounded like it. They were at least getting to second base.
“Hey, Jimmy, why don’t you jack me off too?” Charlie said. He lowered his voice partway through because his words seemed impossibly loud, like he was shouting. “We could circlejerk…” It was apparent that Jimmy wasn’t listening. He would never have thought Jimmy would agree, but then, he had never thought Jimmy would let Charlie jack him off either, so it seemed Charlie’s preconceptions weren’t quite right.
Jimmy groaned and grunted. He bucked his hips, closing his eyes. His muscles all relaxed at once beneath Jimmy’s fingers. Then he laughed nervously. “No way. Gross, dude.” His voice was tensed and clipped despite his laughter.
Then the first drops of sticky precum hit Charlie’s hand, and he moaned. He tried to pull his hand away, but Jimmy held it in place with one hand on his wrist. Charlie grumbled. “C’mon, man, I’m jackin’ you off, you should get me off too-“
“No way, I’m the team captain. I don’t need to do that shit,” Jimmy said. That was sort of true. Jimmy was team captain, which meant he was in charge. But Coach Marshall had made it clear that part of leadership was doing the difficult stuff. He made Jimmy come to all practices and workouts, for example, even the ones that didn’t involve quarterbacks. Jimmy even scheduled field maintenance, handled the scoreboard and hired the announcers for the games.
Jimmy’s whole body shook, his muscles flexing and rippling. He trembled. His dick throbbed, and Charlie felt Jimmy’s balls crawling up in his sac.
The most arousing thing about the orgasm, Charlie thought, was the sounds Jimmy made. It wasn’t clean moaning like in a porn. It was moist, chewing-like sound, almost choking at one point, and Charlie could hear his phlegmy snorting as he shot his load.
But then he decided what was really the most arousing thing about this — Jimmy shot his load right onto Charlie’s thigh. It was sticky, creamy and hot, and he shot so much Charlie wondered if it was some kind of trick. It dripped into the black slacks he had worn as part of his vampire costume, and it soaked into the fabric. It dripped down his legs.
“Whoah,” Jimmy said with a sigh. He smiled like a cocky bastard, kissed Charlie on the cheek, then humped his dick on Charlie’s thigh. “Thanks, man,” he said, as a few final spurts of jizz jetted all the way up Charlie’s side. Cum coated his ribs, running from his armpit to his hips, and Charlie breathed a sigh of relief that turned into a moan of desire. His own hands were all over Jimmy’s powerful torso, making his pecs bounce and twitch.
The buzzer went off. That was it. Seven minutes were up, and the game was over. Charlie was disappointed. That all happened so fast, and he hadn’t gotten to do everything he wanted to. He was annoyed that Jimmy didn’t reciprocate. Now Charlie had a hardon and no way to get rid of it.
The door to the utility closet opened, and Jimmy hurried out. He blushed and pumped his biceps as though victorious, though Charlie could hear him deny that anything had happened.
“Nah, I only got hard thinkin’ of you gals, I’m savin’ up to finish you off later,” Jimmy said, while Charlie dallied in the closet to to wipe the cum off his leg. He came out smiling a few minutes later. He was surprised that none of his teammates seemed to care about what had happened — they laughed at first, asking questions, teasing — but sooner or later, they were focused on the girls again. With only two girls at the party, they were the center of attention.
In the end, nobody got the girls. Lisa Anne and Claire hung out until nearly midnight, and then that was it. This desultory Halloween party was over.
So they all just went to bed a few minutes later, sharing the house’s unused beds. Charlie was sleepy, and there seemed little point to remaining awake at the party any longer. It was clear none of the straight guys were going to mess with him any more than Jimmy already had.
Once Charlie made it into his room and got ready for bed, he heard some of the guys come home from the party — they were excited, rambunctious, bragging about the blowjobs they had gotten. Charlie could hear Jimmy’s annoyed response to them, and it gave Charlie a measure of satisfaction to know that Jimmy had hadn’t had a good night either. Jimmy had apparently hoped to get girls over here after the party.
He awoke sometime early in the morning. The first rays of sunlight were just beginning to creep into his bedroom. He didn’t know why he had awoken at first, then realized someone was in his room.
“Who’s there?”
There was no answer, but there was a flurry of movement. Before Charlie realized what was happening, Jimmy was in bed with him. His heavy body took up most of the mattress. He stank of body odor and deodorant, a melange Charlie inhaled deeply of. Jimmy’s body was firm and yet soft at the same time, and the bed they now shared was so small that Charlie had little choice but to cuddle up close to his powerful temamate.
“Hey,” Jimmy whispered. “George puked in my bed.”
“Well, sleep on the couch-“
“It’s already taken,” Jimmy said. “Sssh, don’t worry, man. I won’t hurt you. I know you want me to cornhole you, shush… Right?”
“Jimmy…”
Jimmy wrapped one of his arms around Charlie as though hugging him close. Charlie’s head was ensconced in his big muscles and his hairy armpit, and his pecs rippled beneath Charlie’s touch. A surge of desire ran through Charlie, whose dick raced to full erection before he even touched it. Jimmy brought Charlie’s hand to his chest, and Charlie instinctively played with his nipples for a few seconds before pulling away in embarrassment. He rolled over to face away from Jimmy.
“Come on, lemme just put the tip in,” Jimmy said. He spooned Charlie, hugging him even closer and wedging his bare cock between Charlie’s asscheeks.
His dick was rock-hard, throbbing. He was already humping and kissing the back of Charlie’s neck. Jimmy must have been horny to begin with. Had he woken up from a sexual dream? Something like that must be it, Charlie thought.
“Oh god, Jimmy, are you serious?” Charlie asked in a desperate whisper. “Yes, please, yes! Put it in!” He had long wanted to be cornholed, to see what it would feel like. Ever since the first time he heard about it — in a rap song — before he even knew what it was. He knew ‘ramrodding’ was something interesting, and he’d looked it up right away.
Jimmy must have taken that as a yes, because he pushed his dick in. Blistering pain hit Charlie’s asshole. It felt like he was being split open, and he roared in agony. He bit a pillow to hide the sound, and his fingers clawed at the mattress beneath him. The pain soon gave way to a flood of pleasure though, which wracked Charlie’s body.
“Sssh, I’ll make it feel better,” Jimmy said. He reached for something and produced a bottle of lube he must have brought in here with him. He squeezed out a bit and spread it over the shaft of his throbbing meat, then rubbed it around the surface of Charlie’s ass.
“Here, I’ll get you off too,” Jimmy said. His rough, callused fingers roamed over Charlie’s body until reaching his cock. He held on there for a moment as though not sure what to do with it.
Then all at once, he both gave Charlie’s dick a stroke and pushed his well-lubed cock into Charlie’s ass. Both pleasure and pain shot up Charlie’s spine. He yelped and clawed at the air around him.
Since Jimmy was so much bigger, he took up a lot of space on the bed, and he didn’t make room for Charlie. So when Charlie flailed, he nearly fell off the edge. If it weren’t for Jimmy’s powerful arms holding him in place, Charlie would have fallen right onto the floor.
He gasped as his dick got hard. Charlie was astonished at how easy it was, and how little pain he was really feeling, considering that Jimmy plowed into him hard and aggressively. The pain was definitely there, it was just subdued, overwhelmed by the pleasure emanating from his cock and even a little bit of pre-orgasmic bliss that grew in waves coming from his asshole.
Precum dribbled from his dick. That stopped Jimmy for a few seconds, as he looked at his hands with disgust, like he had no idea how precum had ended up there. But then he resumed bear-hugging Charlie from behind, using one hand to stroke him off.
The meaty sound of Jimmy’s balls slapping against Charlie’s ass rang out in the small bedroom. Charlie wondered how loud that was, and if anyone else could hear. Luckily, he thought, the other seniors were all pretty drunk. They should all be passed out by now, he hoped. Nobody could be heard moving around in the hall.
“Make some sounds like a girl,” Jimmy said. Then he modeled it, giggling at himself as he let out a high-pitched laugh.
The sensation was entirely too intense for that, as Charlie couldn’t concentrate on anything but the spasms of pleasure exploding all over his body. Jimmy’s free hand roamed over Charlie’s chest as though imagining a bounteous bosom there.
Charlie was glad to realize he was going to cum first, hoping to embarrass Jimmy. Cum flew all over Charlie’s chest, which roiled and twisted as an orgasm washed through him. The movement caused pain to reawaken in his ass, and it was precisely that sudden tightness that made Jimmy blow his load as well.
Hot semen sprayed within Charlie, who cried out loud at the sensation as his own pleasurable orgasm pumped through his veins. He writhed in Jimmy’s biceps and shuddered as Jimmy kissed the back of his head. It was thick and creamy, and Charlie felt it flowing to every inch of his insides.
At last it was over. For a moment Jimmy lay there with his limp dick throbbing inside Charlie. Even though it wasn’t moving and was a bit smaller, it was more painful now that Charlie wasn’t distracted by his own imminent orgasm. He tried to pull away but couldn’t without falling off the bed, and in any case, even the slightest movement reawakened the sensations in his backside.
“Hey, Jimmy, move over, man,” Charlie said, worried that Jimmy would fall asleep with his cock in Charlie’s ass.
But Jimmy groggily responded. He scooted back, and at last his entire rod slipped out of Charlie’s ass. A sense of overwhelming relief hit Charlie, who rolled away from the edge of the bed.
“Jimmy…” Charlie pushed at the senior’s bulky body, but it was obvious Jimmy was asleep. He wasn’t going to move. He took up pretty much the entire bed, and Charlie would only be able to sleep here by remaining ensconced in Jimmy’s muscles. He found that he liked the feeling of warm muscles quivering around him as Jimmy slept. He curled up with Jimmy, smelling his masculine scent and basking in the heat of his body. A little moan escaped from Charlie’s throat, as his hands wrapped around Jimmy’s shoulders. “Thanks,” Charlie said. “You can come sleep with me anytime.”

The Champion of Diversity

When Avery has to go in for a diversity class, he didn’t think he’d be sharing it with an alpha male soccer jock. But Pierce Rippence doesn’t understand the difference between a Christmas party and a holiday party, meaning he’s in the same diversity class as Avery, leading to a hardcore conclusion bursting with man-on-man diversity-respecting action!

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Avery couldn’t decide if it was good or bad that he was the only person in the classroom. He had assumed there would be others. That was rather implied by the word “class”, after all. Otherwise, wasn’t it technically a “session”? That’s what he would have called it.
Regardless, Avery had to spend his whole Saturday learning about diversity in order to return to campus after Christmas break (or rather, “Winter Break”, as the school sternly insisted it was called). All this started because of a dumb joke he made about Puerto Rican men being argumentative.
At Goldendale Hills University, making a joke was a serious offense. Avery was hauled before a tribunal that cast judgement on him with all the fury of an angry cat lady, and he was sentenced to an entire Saturday of diversity training. An argumentative Puerto Rican might have felt stigmatized, the Vice-Dean of Student Inclusion and Indigenous Ways of Knowing had said, speaking so seriously that Avery had to hold back a laugh. Even now he giggled thinking about it.
In the classroom was just Avery and the instructor, a perky young chowder-white woman with a big smile and empty eyes. She kept staring at Avery as though he was a flower of infinite beauty unfolding with the wisdom of the ancients. Avery pretended not to notice. He wasn’t sure what facial expression he was supposed to use: chagrined, annoyed, bored, racist, ashamed, unrepentant? Nothing seemed quite right.
Finally she cleared her throat. “Okay, well, I guess you’re the only one this week. Welcome to Diversity Awareness, Acknowledgement of Harms in as to and regarding Inclusion, Surveying Inappopriate Attitudes and Combatting Social Ills, -Phobias and Intersectional Bigotries. Hot dog, that’s a mouthful!” she said that with the cadence of a joke and waited for laughter, seemingly unaware that her audience was only one or that that wasn’t a joke. Or was it? Then she laughed out loud, very loud, like she was competing with other laughers and needed to win. Avery looked around the classroom. No one was here. Had she made a joke? “My name is Margaret Sole, and today we’re going to explore what it means to be aware, diverse and inclusive. Just the two of us. That’s wonderful. That’ll really give us a chance to get into the nitty-gritty of it all.”
Avery nodded. Margaret looked at him like she was expecting a response, so he supported his head in his hands and said, “Hmm…”
“That’s right, thanks so much for that,” Margaret said. Again, her plastic cheer came across like it was aimed at some invisible supporter in the room. Avery looked around to see who she could be responding to. She didn’t have an earpiece in, and there was nobody Zooming in on a laptop or anything like that.
She cocked her head to the side. “And what’s your name?”
“Avery Flowers.”
“Avery, that’s fantastic, really it is, I love that name,” she said. She ticked a box on her clipboard with a flourish, like she really wanted someone to be impressed with the skill she used to tick off Avery’s attendance. “I love names, I really do.”
Who loves names?! Avery tried not to look disgusted at that. What does it even mean to love names?! How boring does someone have to be before that seems like a viable way to seem more interesting?
The door opened, and a frat boy walked in. He was short and athletic, and with a high-energy sort of machismo like he was making up for being short, and he must play some kind of running-based sport — maybe track and field — because his legs were like the legs of a racehorse stallion ten times his size, he could support a barge on those things. Despite that, he had the casual vibe of a hackeysack-enthused stoner, along with deep dimples and a smarmy grin. Avery instantly thought he was handsome, but he could tell that Margaret was turned off — he had that trying-too-hard charm that came from having always been the most popular, outgoing guy around. Avery wanted to taste his dick right away, while Margaret, he assumed, wanted to nothing more than to avoid getting hit on.
He was on the GHU soccer team, as it turned out. Avery didn’t follow soccer or he would have recognized him. He was well-known on campus and even off it.
That explained the calves too. The young man had legs like cannons.
“Yo, hey, ma’am, how you doin’?” He smacked his lips as though he might hit on Margaret. “I’m Pierce Rippence.” He flashed her a dimpled grin. “Hmmm… You’re a good teacher, miss, I can already tell.” He nodded hello at Avery and sat right next to him. He sat perfectly still, miming as an ‘attentive student’ for her benefit. He looked up at her with the rapturous eyes of a toddler watching his favorite teacher.
“Okay, well, thank you, Pierce,” the teacher said. “You missed my beginning spiel, it’s so important, so I’m going to go over it again.”
Avery didn’t understand that, because she hadn’t yet said any spiel or anything really. All she’d said was the name of the course and that she likes names.
But he didn’t want to say anything that might result in this class being any longer than it was, so he let Margaret repeat her “spiel”, which turned out to be the name of the class. She again said, “Hot dog, that’s a mouthful!” afterwards and again seemed to think that was a joke. She again waited for someone to respond as though it was a joke, then laughed like someone had done so. This time, Pierce looked around the room in search of someone who could explain what was amusing about all of this.
At least she didn’t re-explain that she liked names. Pierce remained forever ignorant of that fact about Margaret Sole.
Her “spiel” thankfully complete, Margaret began a whole new spiel. “Today we’re going to really come to understand what diversity and tolerance are. First off, can we talk a bit about what brought you both here to us today?”
Avery kind of zoned out then. He listened to Pierce’s explain his faux pas that led to this punishment — he had disobeyed the student government by promoting a campus party as a “Christmas party” instead of a “Winter Party”. Avery explained his dumb Puerto Rican joke, which didn’t even make sense out of context. Pierce didn’t respond, but about two minutes later he busted out laughing, turned around and said, “hey, I just got that, bro. Hilarious shit!”
The teacher frowned, her first unenthusiastic expression. “No, no, no, that was not ‘hilarious shit’. It was highly offensive to Puerto Ricans, especially those who are not argumentative. Personality traits are a highly racialized issue-“
“Uh, Miss? The Vice-Dean said it was offensive to argumentative Puerto Ricans. You say it’s offensive to non-argumentative Puerto Ricans,” Avery said.
“Yes, well…! Twice as bad then,” Margaret said.
Once the class got underway, Avery sat as quietly as possible, and he answered every question he could with whatever Margaret was looking for. While it was obvious Avery wasn’t taking this seriously, Pierce was luckily even more silly, so Avery seemed less problematic by comparison. He even filled out the “test” at the end with all of the blatantly correct answers. Pierce made a game of getting several wrong and making her explain obvious answers, like he insisted that Sri Lanka was a fictional place, like Xanadu or El Dorado, until she got out a map and showed him.
“It doesn’t sound like a real country,” Pierce said. “It sounds ridiculous. Sri Lanka.”
Avery tried very hard not to laugh. “I think I heard that too, Margaret. Like people used to think it was real-“
“It’s definitely real. It’s on the map.”
“I saw a map of Middle-Earth. Is that real?” Avery asked.
“Yep!” Pierce said. “Middle Earth is the equator. The equator is in the middle of Earth.”
“No. No, that’s made up, that’s-“
“The middle of Earth is a core of molten hot magma,” Avery said.
“Sri Lanka is definitely real,” she said. “So many people with racialized identities struggle with the validity of their homelands. It’s so important to treat these issues with respect-“
“That’s why I support the Republican Party,” Avery said. “Only the Republicans promise to fight against validity.”
“No, validity is a good thing — that’s — that’s not how-“
“My mom had validity once,” Pierce said. A smile flickered over his face. “It got real bad.”
Avery reached over to Pierce’s desk and gave his hand a supportive squeeze. “I’m so sorry, that’s awful.”
“I think you two are being silly now,” Margaret said. “There are students in this very school from Sri Lanka.”
“Name three.”
She paused and cocked her head to the side. Then she said, “No, that’s, that’s… that’s tokenism.” She shook her head, making her blue-dyed asymmetrical haircut tremble. “And that’s bad.” She sighed deeply, then took some forms off the stack of papers attached to her clipboard. “Since you both completed the course, I’m going to give you a certificate declaring you a Champion of Diversity-“
“Yes! A certificate?!” Pierce pounded on his desk with a big grin on his face. “My niggas are gonna be so jealous-“
“No, Pierce-!”
Avery laughed harder than he had ever laughed at anything. It was a double-edged sword, because when Avery and Pierce had stopped laughing at Margaret’s relentless sputtering, they then had to sit through a supplemental course in “n-word” use. Avery very nearly refused. He’d completed the course he’d been ordered to, but he figured she would just take away his next Saturday if he raised a fuss over it. Pierce seemed to reach a similar conclusion, and he too sat through it.
This time, neither of them made jokes. Pierce must have regretted prolonging this. Still, that laugh was worth it. Avery had to hold back snickers when he thought about it.
Finally, at the end of the afternoon, after six and a half hours of training, Margaret signed both Champion of Diversity certificates and told Pierce and Avery they needed to turn it into the Student Life Center in order to lift their suspensions. Avery wanted to point out that he wasn’t allowed in the Student Life Center while suspended, meaning he couldn’t turn in the certificate without violating his suspension.
But pointing that out would only drag this out even longer, so Avery kept his objections quiet.
At last it was all over, and Avery walked out of there with his certificate of completion. Pierce did too, though Avery could tell that more jokes thrummed beneath the surface. If he didn’t have a frat party to get to tonight, he would have continued teasing Margaret.
“Hey, can I show you something?” Avery asked when they left the classroom. Margaret stayed in there as though she had clean-up to do, though nothing had happened that would require a clean-up. Avery and Pierce headed towards the front of the building. “Come on, you’ll like it.”
Pierce shrugged. He followed Avery down the stairs and into the building’s basement, where Avery knew very well there was a storage area that the janitors rarely visited. This building was entirely unused on weekends (aside from the diversity classes, apparently), so the basement was a dingy empty maze of corridors beset by the constant hum of a weary old air conditioner.
“Man, that lady was crazy, bro. Did you hear her talking about Abijorins? What the fuck was that?”
“Yeah, she was reading a thing about Australian Aborigines I think, they’re real people,” Avery said.
“Oh, yeah, I’ve heard of Aborigines! There’s no such thing as Abijorins?”
“I don’t think so,” Avery said. “I don’t think she was very smart.”
“Of course not, bro. If she was smart, she’d have a better job,” Pierce said.
“I’m pretty sure she’s a diversity volunteer.”
Pierce stopped short. He screwed up his eyebrows. “Damn, bro. A volunteer?!”
“I know, shit’s fucked up,” Avery said. He opened the door to a supply closet. It was big and mostly empty — the only thing stored here was folding chairs, hundreds of them in long rows. Pierce looked around as though he might see something exciting, and he frowned.
“Why’d you bring me here?”
“I wanted to see if you were horny,” Avery said. He sunk to his knees. “Because you should know I can jerk you off better than any female. You looked horny in there.”
Pierce chuckled and turned bright red. “Better than a girl? Yeah, right, man.”
“Let me prove it,” Avery said. “I’ll take you out to dinner.”
“Like a date? No way,” Pierce said.
“I’ll give you cash, I just want to-“
Pierce blurted out, “Will you pay for the keg rental this weekend for my frat?”
“A keg? That’s a lot more expensive than one dinner,” Avery said. He pretended to think hard for a long time as he slowly undid Pierce’s belt and lowered his pants. “Fine,” he said. “One keg this weekend. Not Miller Lite though, because I’m coming to the party and I hate Miller Lite.”
“We don’t drink that shit,” Pierce said. “Make it Natty Bo.”
“Seriously? That’s what you drink?” Avery chuckled.
“It’s a Maryland tradition, man!”
“So’s catching crabs from a plus-size stripper. But fine, whatever, Natty Boh it is,” Avery said. He unzipped the fly of Pierce’s pants and reached in to get his dick. It was hot and moist with sweat, and Pierce sucked in his breath like he thought Avery would say no. Avery very nearly did. But he wasn’t gonna let this Saturday be that dull.
Pierce’s cock popped out the fly of his sagging pants, and Avery kissed it on the tip. Pierce closed his eyes and turned his baseball cap around backwards. He wrinkled his nose and spread his legs like he was preparing for a fight. He grumbled to himself as the flavor of his musty cock assaulted Avery’s senses, and Avery ran his tongue up and down the shaft.
“Hmmm… That does feel pretty good, bro,” he said. “But girls are still better-“
“I’m just gettin’ started. You gotta gimme a chance to show you what I can do,” Avery said.
Pierce shrugged and nodded, and he shifted his weight between his feet. As Avery deep-throated the shaft, Pierce let out a nervous little shimmy, and his dick twitched in Avery’s maw. Pierce said, “Hey, do you think that teacher would fuck me?”
Avery rolled his eyes. “No, Pierce. That’s very unlikely,” he said. He began slurping on the shaft, and Pierce gasped. Avery slathered spit up and down Pierce’s cock, his hand gently but firmly squeezing the root. It was long and thick, meaty even before it firmed up, which it did slowly.
“Oh. Shit… I, uh… Oh!” Pierce was about to say something else, but he sucked in his breath and held back a nervous laugh. “Oh, I, uh… You’re like… really… into that…” His dick twitched in Avery’s mouth. “Damn, man… I swear though, that Margaret chick was totally into me. She was groovin’ on me. Did you see how she touched my shoulder when we was doing that role-play, bro?”
Avery took the dick out of his throat long enough to make eye contact with him. “She was roleplaying a gropey boss. She was not into you.” He thwacked Pierce’s cock all over his face.
“Yeah, but like, she was really groping. She was all up on my shoulder,” he said. He pointed ot the part of his shoulder she touched. “I think I should ask her out. Maybe she likes to suck dick, you don’t know. She said sexual expression was one of the whatevers.”
“She also thinks Australia is full of Abijorins, Pierce. If she knew literally anything, she’d have a better way to occupy her time, and if you ask her to suck your dick, you are going to be taking diversity classes until the end of the time,” Avery said. He kept chasing Pierce’s dick with his tongue. “Do not do that.”
“Can I invite her to the party? There’s nothing wrong with going to a party.”
“But she’ll see something offensive at the party, Pierce!”
“Like what?”
“Like any of an infinite number of things! Drunk people kissing. Non-organic food. Ethnic decor. Disrespectful treatment of kitchen magnets. I’m guessing a dog that gets shotguns of kind bud. And what are the chances someone in your frat will call someone else a retard?”
He sighed and nodded reluctantly.
“So don’t do it,” Avery said. He had both hands on Pierce’s fully erect cock now, and it pulsated in his grip. “If you want to get your nut off, call me. But I only pay the first time, so don’t try to make more money off me.”
“Ah, man… I really wanted her to suck my dick,” Pierce said. He let out a long chest-rattling sigh.
“Well I’d feel bad if you end up having to learn about diversity again, Pierce, so I have to advise you against that,,” Avery said. He thwacked Pierce’s erection over his face. It was veiny and firm but not yet precummy. “If you’re done talking, can I get back to your dick?”
“Yeah…” He paused. “Can you get some girl drinks too? Like Smirnoff Ice?”
Avery didn’t answer, he just resumed licked Pierce’s shaft from root to tip. He had a feeling that the more he let Pierce talk, the more Pierce would ask for. Pierce’s dick was hard and throbbing, and once Avery got back to tasting it, salty precum began leaking out. Avery loved playing with that, smearing it over his own face as well as Pierce’s cockshaft. Every time he thwacked Pierce’s dick against his face, Pierce’s whole body jerked like he hadn’t expected it.
Deep-throating it to the root, Avery nuzzled his nose in Pierce’s pubic bush. That made Pierce stand on his toes as his knees weakened, and he sucked in his breath. “Daaamn, man!” he chuckled. “You should give lessons.”
Avery giggled around the cock in his throat, but he didn’t stop. He choked up mouthfuls of spit that ran down Pierce’s shaft and soaked his crotch and his long-hanging balls.
“Man… There’s a Jew in my frat who celebrates Christmas,” Pierce blurted out like he was tattling on a wrongdoer. He looked away, biting his lip.
Avery looked up at him without stopping swallowing Pierce’s dick to the root. He rolled his eyes. Pierce didn’t even look at him. He grabbed Avery’s ears and held on as he drilled his cock in deeper. He seemed to be talking on autopilot now, like he either didn’t notice he was talking or didn’t notice he was sort of fucking Avery’s throat like it was a diversity counselor’s pussy.
“I think he does. I mean he doesn’t complain when we put up a Christmas tree and shit,” Pierce said. His dick pulsated in Avery’s throat. “You know, there’s nothing literally Christian about a Christmas tree, it’s not a Jesus tree. They should make a Hannukah tree. That would solve everything! Why don’t the Jews do that?”
Avery tried to shake his head without stopping, but he didn’t think Pierce realized Avery was saying no. Pierce was totally ignoring Avery now — talking to him, but paying no attention as Avery gulped down his cock by the throatful.
With a gurgling murmur of desire, Pierce’s eyes bugged out as he lightbulbed up an idea, still seemingly unaware of his cock in Avery’s throat or the intense pleasure coursing through his body as a result. “I should do that. I could sell Hannukah trees, man, I’ll make millions. Jews aren’t anti-tree, are they? Are trees kosher?” Pierce said. “And what’s that black people thing? Kwanzaa? Do they have trees? They should have trees too, bro. I’ll tell Margaret that.” He paused. “Hey, wait, bro, I’m gonna nut, you wanna swallow it?”
Avery nodded, a few tears beading up at the corner of his eyes as he struggled to deep-throat him without choking too hard. His hands roamed up and down Pierce’s soccer-toned frame.
“Sweet, cool, brah, girls never wanna swallow,” Pierce said. He closed his eyes and leaned against the wall of the storage area, holding on tightly to Avery’s head. He drilled his dick in and out and finally seemed fully engrossed, not thinking of ways to hit on the diversity woman. He almost looked surprised at his own orgasm, like he had forgotten it was a man and not Margaret on his dick.
Avery’s hands reached up to Pierce’s chest as he came, and Avery could feel his orgasm in the roiling tension in his muscles. Pierce wasn’t bulky, but he was athletic, and his ropy muscles all flexed at once beneath his shirt as his balls crawled up in his sac.
“Damn, brah…”
Pierce threw his head back and moaned. Creamy hot cum shot out and hit the back of Avery’s mouth. It seeped down his gullet and into his belly, and Avery guzzled down every drop. He didn’t want to spill any. Young men always had such a bright and sunshiney flavor to their cum. He swallowed every bit he could, only a few drops spilling out and trickling down to his chin.
A loud throaty moan escaped from Pierce’s throat. His cheeks turned red, and he held onto Avery’s head until his dick was fully limp. Then at last he let go, and his cock popped out. Avery chased it with his tongue as he gasped, because whenever he touched it, Pierce’s whole body shook and he let out another moan.
“Awright, brah, you’re done, okay?” Pierce said. He took a deep breath and put his dick back. “Hey, let’s go reserve that keg now, brah, okay?” He paused. “If my frat brothers ask, will you tell them I did some work for you? Like I cleaned your house or something? Not that, something cool. Like I beat up a dude for you, like some dude tried to rob you and I beat him up.”
“Yeah, fine,” Avery said. “But you gotta let me frot with you. I gotta bust my nut too.”
“Frot?”
“You never heard of that?” Avery blushed and laughed. He pulled down his pants and took his dick out, then he thwacked his hardon against Pierce’s soft, spongy cock. Pierce jumped when he did, like Avery’s cock hurt, which given how firm it was and how sensitive Pierce’s was, it might well have done.
But Avery always enjoyed a good frotting, and Pierce’s blushing anxiety made it even more arousing for him. Pierce kept shifting his weight between his feet, as Avery stroked both cocks together. Pierce’s was so sensitive that it throbbed and his knees kept going weak when Avery touched the tip.
“Oh god, man, shit, shit, you really are into that, bro, huh?” Pierce looked down at his dick like it was betraying him, and he grabbed a row of paper towls he found on a shelf in the supply closet, but he couldn’t clean himself off yet because Avery was spewing precum into his crotch.
His cock pulsating in his grasp, Avery stroked both dicks in both of his hands, then let go with his right hand so he could go back to groping every inch of Pierce’s lithe soccer-toned chest. His torso was much less muscular than his magnificent legs, but Avery still liked the way his pecs rippled when Avery touched them.
Pierce was so embarrassed he looked like he might explode as Avery finally reached his own orgasm, and pleasure exploded up and down Avery’s taut little both. Avery shot his wad into Pierce’s pubes, a vast flow of it that soaked his entire crotch in cream.
Pierce chuckled and laughed, as he raced to dot the jizz up with a wadded up bit of paper towel.
“You should let me swing on your dick again at the party.”
“Man, there’ll be girls there… Maybe that Margaret-“
“No! Do not invite her, Pierce! You will be back in that diversity class next weekend, and I am not gonna jack you off afterwards again,” Avery said. They both headed for the door.
“Fine… I won’t invite her to the stupid Christmas party,” he said.
“Pierce… You have to call it a Winter Party,” Avery said. “We just spent hours learning that.” He patted Pierce on the ass. “It’s a good thing you’re handsome, sweetie, because you are dumb.”
“That’s what my mom says…”
Avery laughed as they walked out of the building. He had a car and enough money he could put a deposit down on a keg without checking an ATM first, which, as far as Pierce was concerned, made Avery wealthy. He was impressed. Avery didn’t disabuse him of that notion, he just headed home to get ready to go to this frat party.

The Gloryhole

Patrick is working as a roughneck at an oil drill site in North Dakota and enduring the hazing and horseplay that comes with the job… But that all changes when a gloryhole appears, and the workers and rednecks he labors alongside all have a filthy chance to get their motors revving.
Can Patrick perform in front of the others?

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

It was Patrick’s first time working as a roughneck, but he hoped that wasn’t obvious. Some people knew, of course, but Patrick kept to himself. He didn’t want to stand out like a rookie because he knew places like this often hazing their newbies.
He wasn’t opposed to hazing, mind you, he’d do what he had to do to fit in. The best way to get the worst of it was to stand out from the crowd, so he intended to go with the flow.
Normally, Patrick always stood out in any crowd because he was six and a half feet tall, and he was built like a linebacker. He was, in fact, a semi-pro linebacker, three hundred and fifty pounds of solid muscle. Not that he had a six-pack, he wasn’t that cut, but compared to most of the men on Site G9, he was built like a gym. The others were mostly older, scruffier and either much fatter or skinnier, and definitely hairier.
Patrick felt young. He had never been nervous about being naked in a group until he got to the oil drill site. He realized only as he stripped off his clothes in a ridiculously crowded rig locker room that he reason he had never been nervous as a football player was that the men he changed alongside were his teammates he knew well and that they were around his own age.
But some of these roughnecks had fought in wars. There were bikers, meth-dealers, convicted murderers released after decades in prison, disgraced cops, a gaggle of men were from some indigenous tribe in the Amazon. They were craggy and stronger than Patrick even when their muscles were smaller. They had bulletwound scars and missing toes and silver-tinged chest hair that extended over their shoulders and onto their back. Nobody on Patrick’s football team had back hair.
It was one of those, a biker named Cooter who first touched Patrick’s dick.
It felt silly to make a big deal out of it, so Patrick didn’t. In the showers, it didn’t count. That’s what everyone said working on the drill site. That was like a motto.
Cooter with the broad shoulders and mat of silver chest fur over a barrel-shaped body wrapped one hairy arm around Patrick’s smooth back. “You’re a big hoss, huh? Saw you out there hauling lineboxes like a madman, good on ya,” he said. He gripped Patrick’s dick for just a half-second. He didn’t stroke it, and he made a point of not touching his balls — he lifted up Patrick’s cock and hefted it as though to make sure it was real.
Patrick sucked in his breath. In his semi-pro football league, if you accidentally touched someone’s dick, you had to shout “no pansy!” They did it even if they just brushed near it, or you accidentally touched someone’s pubic hair. Patrick gulped. He would have asked Cooter not to touch his cock again, but it was over before it began, and Cooter moved on. Patrick felt someone else’s chest hair rub on his back, and he closed his eyes rather than try to figure out who it was.
Cooter was very hairy. Patrick had always thought of himself as hairy too — some of his college teammates called him an ape because of all his chest hair. But Cooter and some of the others here, relatively old men, middle-aged guys, a lot of them had really hairy chests and bellies, and sometimes even backs. Old guys with muscular bodies were scary, Patrick thought.
There was a tattoo of a disemboweled man on Cooter’s belly. Patrick couldn’t tear his eyes away from it. Was the disemboweled man a cop? Patrick closed his eyes. Something about the scene looked oddly specific, as though it illustrated a real event.
“Come on, man, let’s wash this shit off!” Cooter again wrapped a hand around Patrick’s body and led him into the shower. Cooter was drenched in engine grease because he worked on the internal combustion coils. Somebody else slapped Patrick’s ass too, a lanky black Jamaican who leered at him as they all filed into the shower.
Patrick gulped. This was the nerve-wracking part. The shower. It was well-lit and cleaner than Patrick had expected — he was picturing something mildewy and dank like a prison shower. This wasn’t that bad, aside from the astoundingly cramped quarters.
It was obvious why that “no pansy” rule that applied on the team didn’t apply here. The locker rooms for semi-pro football teams (usually college stadiums and the attached athletic departments) were roomy and spacious. But here, the shower fit twenty or so but would have been cramped with ten.
As soon as Patrick entered, he felt limps dicks rubbing over his thighs and his ass, along wiry pubic hair, copious chest hair and frizzy beard hairs, and the smell of unwashed male armpits and ballsacs filled his nostrils. The only thing more disconcerting was that his own cock caressed Cooter’s ass — and Cooter’s ass-hair — as they filed into the shower. Patrick was terrified that he would get hard.
Despite all that, they were more or less nice — Patrick was surprised. He kind of thought there’d be fights, and maybe more, in the shower. But there was a lot of horseplay, whipping towels at each other, pretending to jack off on each other, that kind of thing, but no real fighting in the shower.
It was during that night, however, when things got real.
Men jacked off openly here. They just lay back in their bunk, which were stacked five high, with barely room to roll around in, and stroked it. Not under the covers or anything, they straight-up stroked it.
The lights were off, but there was emergency lighting out in the hall. The barrack was a long thin room with rows of bunks. The emergency lighting filtered in through the doors and kept the entire room illuminated enough that Patrick could see men pounding their meat.
Patrick resolved to pretend he hadn’t noticed. There was no way he would ever get hard enough to jack off in full view of a bunch of strangers like that. He rolled over and went to sleep, ignoring the smell of sour cum blooming in the air.
That continued for a few days. No one ever remarked on it, not even when it smelled rank of cum when they all woke up. He saw one middle-aged black man with creamy white cum dried on his belly when they all got dressed. Patrick tried to just stay quiet and fit in. He wasn’t going to be here for long.
But he got so horny. Soon he was getting random erections, for seemingly no reason. He’d never gone this long without fucking a woman.
That was when the hole appeared. He heard vague chatter about it, and when his shift was over, he and the others all went to check it out.
It was a gloryhole.
They said it was a woman who loved cock. Yes, a woman, name unknown, who sucked any dick a roughneck shoved through the gloryhole. Patrick thought that sounded like a cover – no one had ever seen “her”.
But supposedly, she came to the rig every once in awhile, drilled a hole in the middle of the night and stayed in some hidden chamber, ready to jerk off any cock that came through the hole. She was a pretty blonde woman who loved cock but didn’t want anyone to know, she was a fine Egyptian lady with a tongue for jizz, she was a Japanese lass or an Irish redhead, an Aussie with an insatiable appetite for cock. The rumors were hot and fast, and Patrick wasn’t sure if anyone believed any of it. They claimed they believed it, but they claimed it with a wink and a nod, not like something they really believed in.
The man on the side of the hole was named Rob. He had never spread a rumor that he was a woman. He would have gladly spoken to any of the roughnecks who he jerked off and would have told them he was a man. But he’d learned long ago that the best way to get men like these to let him handle their meat was to just make a gloryhole, hang out and wait.
Sure enough, one fat cock had popped through almost right away. He had recognized that as Barry Bagley, who was the convicted murderer Patrick had heard worked on the rig. Barry was a middle-aged man with gray hair and a powerful body like a painting of Zeus. He had been a prison boxer until he had been paroled this year, and the rig was the only place that would hire him — he wasn’t allowed to leave the state, which greatly reduced the options that were open to him.
Luckily, he had gotten used to being serviced by men behind bars. Doing it through a gloryhole was nicer than in person, and the man on the other end — Barry was not one who liked to pretend it was a woman — had nice, softer lips and a moister mouth than any of the men who had jerked him off in prison. The gloryhole mouth went down deep too, noze nuzzling into his crotch, eagerly, smooching it, slurping on it, hocking up massive loogies and choking up saliva by the mouthful to let it run down his sensitive shaft.
It was toe-curlingly good dome.
There was something alluring about not being able to hold onto the man’s head too. It seemed worse. Barry wished, while it was going on and while he got hard, that he could grab Rob’s head and plow in, ramming as hard as he could. But he wasn’t able to do that with the solid steel wall of the supply closet in the way. He could only try to grip the smooth surface while bucking his hips to ram the hole the best he could.
“Goddamn, Rob, you got mouth like liquid silk, boy, goddamn…” Barry sighed. He belched loudly as he finally orgasmed, and the moist sound of his cumwad overflowing filled the air. He knew he was first to use this particular hole, so he liked to make a big frothy mess that spilled out and dried on the stainless steel — which wasn’t stainless when it came to cum.
He pulled out, peered through the hole and suppressed a gag at the sight of Rob’s open mouth, full of creamy, snotty cum. Barry walked away with his dick still dangling between his legs, workjeans unbuttoned and unzipped.
“Hole’s open, boys,” Barry said to each of the groups of men as he passed them.
They all snickered, exchanging knowing glances at the sight of Barry’s foot-long cock. The more time they spent on the rig without any leave, the more often all of them found excuses to walk around naked. What started out as a bunch of awkward men who mostly didn’t know each other became a group of not-quite friends who had seen, and probably rubbed against, every part of each other’s bodies. So it seemed silly to rush to put their cocks away or to pretend to hide masturbating.
Not that anyone wanted to jack off now that there was a hole available. Rob handled dick better than any of the women at Madame Rosa Sumillo’s house — she was the brothel owner whose girls mainly catered to the rig’s workers on leave, in the tiny town of Onagnok. They were beautiful and willing and they had parts that jiggled in all the right ways. Patrick’s ears burned hearing the other roughnecks’s wau-wau about the dirty things they did.
No leave for three weeks though. It felt like forever in the future.
So when Patrick finally realized what they meant about a hole appearing, he was eager to do it. That eagerness vanished when he realized there was a line. The closet was barely big enough for two people, but there were five or six in there, and five or six more stroking their cocks outside the closet getting ready.
“You wanna take a spot in line?” Cooter asked, motioning for Patrick to stand beside him.
Patrick did so. He wanted to leave and come back later, when there was no line — and hopefully when Rob had wiped down the hole, because Patrick didn’t really want to touch another man’s cum. But he was too horny to stop, and he could already feel his dick getting hard. Despite the smell of male armpits and bodyhair and both fresh and stale cum, Patrick was getting hard just at the thought of getting his nut off.
He had no sooner stood there beside Cooter that Patrick heard a man’s deep-throated moan of orgasm. It sent a chill up Patrick’s spine. That was Lem Staggerman, who cackled like it was a big joke as cum sprayed into the hole. He felt his balls slap against the steel and was disgusted — he knew there was oozing cumloads right there, now no doubt sticking to his ballsac. Lem had a thick body and a thicker cock, thick enough that some of the whores at Madame Sumillo’s house of sin refused to see him. They said he stretched them out for other men.
That was the kind of thing Lem liked to hear. Rob had had to widen the gloryhole for him too. Lem was getting splinters on his dingadingdoo, but it fit just right now, and Rob went to town all over it. Lem’s whole body tensed up, his work-carved muscles undulating and flexing as he pounded at the gloryhole with all his might.
Rob opened his mouth to show the cumwad filling it up, but the men were in too much of a hurry to even check. Lem was followed by his another of the drill site’s black men, Kale, whose fat cock barely fit in the hole.
“Ah, nasty, I heard that shit splash in her mouth,” Kale said. “She’s so foul…” He chuckled, pounding on the steel, eyes opening wide as his cock rocketed to full erection. Kale was one of those who was well aware that Rob was a man. But he had been unsure the first time he did it. A part of him knew it felt like a man, but he had been told it was a woman and Kale had been just horny enough not to question that.
If he had known it was a man, he’d have refused to do it back then, and he’d have probably never worked up the nerve. His buddies in his old hood would never let him live it down if they found out. As long as he could pretend he had no idea it was a man, however, he could do it without compunctions, without worrying about Lem’s creamy load sticking to his pubic hair, without thinking about Albert Spackle’s cock, half-hard already, rubbing against Kale’s ass.
Cooter was in the closet by then, as Kale shot his wad, and the line kept moving. Then Albert went, and he had been dry-humping Kale’s ass — no one talked about any accidental contact in the closet, that was a major faux pas — so he shot his wad quickly. Albert always did that. He liked to be efficient.
A shiver of anticipation ran up Patrick’s spine. One of those indigenous Brazilian men was behind him now, erect cock so close Patrick could feel his body heat. When he stepped into the closet, the Brazilian behind him did too, cramming in so that his dick touched Patrick’s thigh. It was hot and throbbing, and it rubbed against Patrick’s well-muscled leg.
“Sorry, I’m too horny to wait…” the Brazilian murmured. Patrick rotated his body, panicking that he was about to be ramrodded — no one had suggested that was a possibility here, it just felt too much like a prison to dismiss it as a concern — so that his ass no longer faced the Brazilian.
But that meant their cocks touched. It looked deliberate. Patrick sucked in his breath. “Oh, sorry, man-“
“Ssssssh, it is okay, yes? We are in the darkness,” the Brazilian chuckled. “Ees okay, does not count, man…” But he thwacked his dick on Patrick’s hot shaft. Then he grabbed both dicks in one hand and stroked them both together — frotting, the other roughnecks called it —his chuckle turned into a laugh at the shocked, turned-off expression on Patrick’s face.
The Brazilian’s cock wasn’t especially big, even rock-hard, as he rubbed it aggressively. Patrick was certain the feel of it touching him made him lose his hardon. He was wrong, but he was certain of it, and he couldn’t see and wouldn’t touch it, so he had no way of knowing. Precum jetted out into Patrick’s pubes, and the Brazilian roughneck’s breathing grew labored.
‘Is he gonna cum on me?’ Patrick wasn’t sure if he would be expected to fight the indigenous Brazilian if that happened or not.
That continued until the next man shot his wad, then turned around and walked out. He walked right between Patrick and the Brazilian — whose name he had never learned — so their erect dicks touched his hairy redneck thighs. Patrick gulped. In the closet, it seemed, anything really did go.
Cooter was in the hole now. He growled and rumbled, pounding his fists on the steel. “Hey, Patrick, new man, you wanna lick my asshole? Huh? Go ahead, I’ll let ya-“
They all laughed hard, and Patrick blushed. “No!” he raced to say, even though he knew that made him look defensive.
“You sure?” Cooter wasn’t even looking at the hole now, his head craned around to look at Patrick.
The other guys in the closet saw how nervous the question made Patrick and kept asking. “You sure? Ain’t nothin’ wrong wit’ givin’ a little rimjob-“
“Yeah, or a big rimjob. Filthy, for sure. Cooter got greasy ass, you know that!”
“Go’n and give us a lick, man, we love you forevuh for it-“
“Ain’t nothin’ dirty ’bout it.”
“No! No way,” Patrick laughed, hoping he sounded nonchalant. It was hard to think with his erect dick still touching the Brazilian man’s dick. It was uncut, and it seemed to have way too much skin, Patrick thought. He gulped and closed his eyes.
He considered leaving. It would be embarrassing, but staying was embarrassing as well. If he left, they’d tease him the same they teased him now — the only difference would be that Patrick didn’t get dome. Patrick realized only now that his own hardon had not deflated the least bit, despite the Brazilian’s hardon rubbing on it. Or maybe because of it. It did feel kinda good, in a massage-y kinda way. It was hot and stiff and it pulsated lightly like a massage wand.
Patrick didn’t want to share that observation with anyone.
So when Cooter shot his wad into the hole, Patrick decided to fit in the best he could. He got up behind Cooter, dick rubbing against Cooter’s hairy ass, and murmured, “You done yet, redneck?”
“Get the fuck off me!” Cooter said, angry and laughing at the same time, his orgasm still finishing. As he leaned back, he grabbed Patrick’s cock — making Patrick suck in his breath — and guided it to the hole. Their dicks touched, and Patrick felt the gooey, sticky ooze of cum and spit and precum and who-knew-what-else.
It only lasted a moment. But Patrick felt like he was dripping with Cooter’s cum and his filthy redneck sweat. That Brazilian man was right up behind him, stroking himself furiously for a few seconds, his fist hitting Patrick’s ass with each stroke, then let go when he realized he was going to cum too quickly if he kept jacking off. He was just keeping hard while he waited for his turn.
There was another cock on his hand — was someone trying to get him to touch another man’s dick? Patrick closed his eyes and touched the wall, as his cock finally slipped in by itself. He realized then that this was why all of them thus far had stayed against the wall as they got serviced — it was the best way to stop touching the handful of men who crowded into the closet. They all pushed in close behind him, and Patrick felt their mnahoods and their body hair and their precum leaving a layer of sweaty filth on his smooth back.
“Oh god…” Patrick was shocked that it felt this good. He had been so nervous about doing it that he didn’t give much consideration to how it would feel. He just thought he’d blow his nut and finally stop thinking about sex all the damn time.
But this was amazing!
Rob swallowed him down to the root, all in one smooth motion, with no struggle at all. Patrick had never had anyone deep-throat him like that.
“Oooooh, oh — aaaaah, shit, goddamn — ah-” Patrick laughed, which again he realized happened for the same reason the others had laughed before him — it made this seem more like a joke than the rather dirty sex act it really was. Plus nobody wanted to sound like some naif busting a nut for the first time and not knowing what it was supposed to be like.
His dick throbbed in Rob’s throat. Rob had sensed that this was a new man. He was very good at distinguishing between cocks. He remembered Cooter’s dick, for example, from a different rig owned by a different company. He didn’t know Cooter’s name, but he knew his cock.
Patrick was fresh, unserviced, and Rob tried to give him an experience to remember. He gurgled and guzzled, his nose even extending into the gloryhole, ensconced in Patrick’s unkempt pubic bush. His tongue battered his erection, which throbbed in Rob’s mouth.
Someone was touching Patrick’s back now, and he didn’t mind it. He was as surprised as anyone could be. He kind of liked the broad hairy muscles of that unnamed Brazilian man behind him, his hot cock throbbing between Patrick’s legs.
Patrick got it now. He could have gotten himself hard rubbing his dick between Cooter’s hot asscheeks — they were hairy though weren’t they? Patrick laughed quietly at the thought that he was going to have to check that during the next shower. He’d have to find someone with a nice smooth ass whose cheeks were very humpable — maybe that indigenous Brazilian, who had no body hair at all — and Patrick would try to slip in behind him next time.
“Ah, shit…” Patrick let out a long, deep moan that echoed and made the other guys in the closet burst into uproarious applause. They had all gathered that Patrick had never done this before, so they liked to embarrass him, pinching his ass when he twitched and shook.
Creamy cum flowed down Rob’s throat, and he swallowed every drop. It was salty and warm, and a little grassy as though Patrick had absorbed the flavor of the turf he played football on. Rob didn’t let go even when Patrick was done shooting and Rob’s lungs cried out for oxygen.
He waited for Patrick to pull out, his muscles all flexing at once, letting out the roar of a champion, as he did when his team had just scored a touchdown. It was a similar, victorious thrill. He knew that wasn’t entirely logical — it wasn’t like he had done anything that required any tremendous skill.
But he had gotten it. He was no longer some young pup hoping no one figured out he was new around here. He had a confident lilt to his step, and when you knew you were tough, like he did, there was no reason to be squeamish about the Brazilian man’s precum and dickcheese sitting on his ass.
‘I’m about to go take a shower anyway’, he thought as he headed into the shower. He wasn’t nervous about crowding in there either. He had nothing to be ashamed of. He was just one real man among many. He laughed and groped his coworkers as a joke, even circlejerking with them before his next leave.
He was no longer a rookie, he was a roughneck.

The Home Invaders

When Avery is woken up by a home invasion in progress, he never thought it would end like this!

Read it now as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

After spending years living with roommates, Avery was overjoyed at finally having a home of his own. He rented a house in the inner-city. It was a run-down, two-bedroom affair, broken windows sealed up with cardboard and all, a stamp-sized front yard that was all brown like a mummified lawn. But it was Avery’s first chance to live totally on his own, and he had never felt more independent than when he first slept in his new bed there.
It wasn’t the nicest neighborhood, but it wasn’t the worst either. Avery didn’t even really care about how nice the neighborhood was — he could take care of himself.
Or so he thought. One night, just a few weeks after moving in, his ability to defend his home was put to the test. Avery woke up before dawn to the sound of a man breaking in.
Maybe two men.
His heart nearly leapt out of his chest. He grabbed the pepper spray he kept in his bedroom and hurried into the hallway.
There were two men there.
Avery stepped into the bathroom so they wouldn’t see him just yet. The closer one was young, handsome, short and lanky, but with bulging muscles beneath his baggy clothes. He had tight cheekbones and a smooth chin, cute but thinks he’s handsome, like an adorable newt. Avery might have seen him before, maybe at the bodega? He caught Avery’s eye because he had those dimples you could do dishes in.
The other one, who was unplugging the television in the living room, was bigger and older, scruffy, cornrowed and lighter-skinned. He was heavyset like a professional wrestler, with a craggy face like a lighthouse keeper. He had a deep scratchy voice too, and his smooth panther-like movements contradicted his apparent roughness, age and heavyset frame. Avery was a great appreciator of male physiques, and both of these men had remarkable ones.
There was no time to consider that though. Avery needed to get to his phone, so he could call the police.
“Yo, Rico, help me pack up this Playstation,” said the older one.
“Yeah, Thumper, in a sec.” Rico — the younger, handsome one — glanced down the hall. He looked worried, in contrast to Thumper’s confident glare. Rico seemed uncertain of whether he had seen movement.
Holding his breath, Avery hid deeper in the bathroom, looking around for anything he could use as a weapon.
“Rico! Nigga, come on!” Thumper said. “Nobody here, okay? Just help me get this shit!”
Rico sighed. He turned around.
Avery wished he had his cell phone with him so he could call the police, but he had stupidly plugged it in using a kitchen outlet — he was all out of outlets in his bedroom. Now it seemed so simple, he could have unplugged something he wasn’t going to use tonight. There were a ton of reasons to keep his phone near the bed.
Wait! A memory lightbulbed up in Avery’s mind. He had put that box of stuff in the bathroom closet, the box with the flashlight and stuff from that one drawer in the apartment — the drawer that was beside the door in his old apartment, which was why he put the pepper spray in that drawer. The pepper spray was in the closet.
While the two home invaders were stacking up Avery’s television and Playstation by the door, Avery silently opened the bathroom closet. He rifled through the box until he found the pepper spray.
Just around the corner, in the hall, Rico opened the hall closet — which was adjacent to the bathroom closet Avery was in, though neither of them knew they were a few feet from each other, practically looking at each other despite the wall in the way. Rico whistled in surprise, which was when Avery realized where he was.
“Thought you said it was just a single man living here,” Rico said.
“Yup.”
“He got a closet full of women’s clothes,” Rico said.
That seemed to throw Thumper for a loop. Avery couldn’t see from his vantage point, but he thought Thumper was looking in the closet too. That meant they were both facing away from the bathroom.
This is your opportunity, he told himself. He crept out of the bathroom closet and quietly pushed the bathroom door open.
“Tall woman too,” Thumper said. “Prolly an ex-wife or some shit. Go on and look in the bedroom-“
“Fuck you, assholes!” Avery screamed and came into the living room, pepper spray in hand. He realized only when Thumper and Rico looked at him that he had never looked closely at this pepper spray. He didn’t know how to use it, or whether there was some kind of safety latch he needed to remove first. Sure enough, when he pressed the trigger, nothing happened. The can of pepper spray was unopened, and Thumper lazily knocked it out of Avery’s hand.
For a moment, all was silent. Thumper and Rico looked at Avery as though they had never seen a white man before. Avery was too scared to move.
Thumper chuckled. “Oh, damn. Someone is here.”
“Don’t hurt me!”
“Tie him up in his room,” Thumper said. He turned around to look in the drawers of the desk in the living room. He picked up an old iPod as though considering stealing that, then decided it wasn’t worth it. He set it back down.
Rico approached Avery with the confident, cocky glare of a thug. Avery, embarrassed at having been outmatched so easily, felt a surge of adrenaline — if he let these home invaders dictate what happened here, this would end up bad for sure.
“Goan, man,” Rico said. “Get to the bedroom.” Despite his confident demeanor, Avery could tell he was wavering. He had never done anything this violent.
“No. Fuck you,” Avery said. “Get outta my house.”
“Just take him, Rico!” Thumper barked.
Rico pushed Avery towards the hallway, but Avery had a few pounds on him. He stood flat-footed and didn’t move an inch. He pushed Rico back, and the smaller man nearly tripped over the couch. Rico looked like he hadn’t expected to have to make an effort. He was used to intimidating scared white men, but Avery’s adrenaline flowed too hard for him to be easy to scare.
Thumper laughed. “What’s wrong wit’choo, boy?”
“He pushed me!” shouted the annoyed Rico, who stomped towards Avery yet again.
“Yeah, he do that!” Thumper said. “We’s robbin’ him. He might push back. That happens, nigga. Shit’s fucked up.”
That momentary burst of success gave Avery a spring in his step. This time when Rico approached him, Avery used the self-defense techniques he learned in a karate class at the Y — he nearly knocked Rico over with a foot sweep, but instead put him in a bear hug. Rico’s lithe muscles squirmed beneath Avery’s touch as Avery kept a hold of him and dragged him to the front door.
He literally tossed Rico out into the front stoop, as Thumper laughed behind him like a baritone jackal. When Avery turned around, Thumper was screaming peals of laughter, clapping his hands on his meaty thighs.
“You got that, man, you got that!”
Avery blushed. He hadn’t meant to impress Thumper. Now that Rico was gone, Avery just needed to get rid of Thumper, or at least make it into the kitchen to call the police.
But then Rico walked right back in behind Avery. He once again tried to push Avery, who easily tossed him out the front door yet again.
This time, he was distracted long enough for Thumper — who still laughed as though he had never seen anything so funny — to grab Avery from behind. He wrapped both muscular arms around Avery and hissed. His basketball-thick arms were like iron bars, and Avery was unable to escape his hold.
“Get off me!”
“This is how you do it, nigga!” Thumper barked at Rico. Thumper’s powerful body pressed against Avery’s back.
Rico muttered as he followed Thumper, who dragged Avery into the bedroom. Rico shut the front door and wiped wet grass off his stained t-shirt. Avery wiggled in Thumper’s might grasp, ensconcing himself in Thumper’s broad chest muscles.
Despite or maybe because of all the fighting, Avery was horny. It came both from general excitement as well as from the strapping muscles of Thumper’s body, undulating behind his back. Avery could even feel a horsey cock beneath Thumper’s jeans, rubbing against the small of Avery’s back.
“Get some rope,” Thumper said as he tossed Avery on the bed on his belly.
Avery felt naked and vulnerable. He wore only a pair of sweatpants and a plain t-shirt. He tried to get up, but Thumper sat on the bed next to him, resting one heavy arm on Avery’s back.
“Get a rope!”
“I, uh, I ain’t got one.”
“I tol’ you bring a rope!”
“You said he wouldn’t be home! And I ain’t got a motherfuckin’ rope, nigga!”
Thumper sighed. “You stupid fuck. What we s’posed to tie him up with?”
“You said he wouldn’t be home.”
“What I said was bring a rope, nigga!” Thumper said. “You should stay prepared, man. Don’t come into some nigga’s house without rope to tie him up.” He patted Avery on the back of the head. “Sorry ‘bout callin’ you a nigga, whiteboy.”
“That’s okay. Just get out! Lemme go,” Avery said.
“Go find something we can tie him up with,” Thumper said with a sigh. He held Avery’s face in the pillow, not suffocating him, but keeping him from seeing what Rico was doing. After a few seconds, Thumper shouted in frustration. “Not in here, nigga! If there was something in here we could use to tie him up, I’d-a said ‘hand me that, nigga’. I said go find something!”
Rico muttered angrily to himself as he walked out the door the bedroom. He could be heard pawing through the hallway closet.
“Sorry, man, he young. He slow,” Thumper said. Leaving one hand on Avery’s neck and hand, his other rested on Avery’s back. That hand moved slowly lower, then he squeezed Avery’s asscheek. “He ain’t nevuh been locked up. He don’t know.” He leaned in and kissed the back of Avery’s neck. “You got a nice booty.” He let out a choked moan. “Boy, if you was my cellmate… I’d brew up something in yo’ ass and yo’ mouth, e’ry damn day.”
Avery shuddered at the thought. He was so aroused now his dick was already getting hard, pressing into the mattress beneath him.
“You into that, huh?”
“Hell yeah,” Avery said. “You can ram me. Just don’t rob me.”
Thumper laughed. “Those things ain’t mutually exclusive, man,” he said. “And you ain’t in position to be making demands.” He chuckled as he stood up. He unzipped the fly of his jeans and fished out a long dark cock. “There’s two options before you, but they both lead you to the same place.”
His head moved of its own will towards Thumper’s cock. Avery hesitated, inhaling that musty, prison-starved scent — he could tell that the underwear Thumper wore was that plain white kind, prison-issue boxers. He must be a recent releasee, or maybe he just never quite got over his release.
But before Avery could open his mouth to suck it down, Thumper took his head in hand and pulled it into his crotch. The silky sensation of limp cockmeat filled Avery’s mouth, and Avery inhaled deeply of the scent of his wiry pubic bush, which was all-black despite the streaks of gray in his beard and his cornrows. Thumper had an intense and potent flavor. He tasted of blunt ash and grimy city streets. He smelled of prison cells, men in cramped conditions and unwashed ballsweat.
In no time his cock began to firm up within Avery’s mouth. It grew hot and thick, and Avery let his tongue caress the underside of Thumper’s veiny shaft. He slurped up the sweat that clung to his shaft.
“Oh yeah…” Thumper murmured. “I only got outta prison yesterday, man. I needed this.”
Thumper kept all his clothes on. He didn’t even drop his pants, he just let his cock poke out of the fly of his jeans. As Avery licked, Thumper stooped more and more to give Avery better access to his entire dick. Soon enough, Thumper was leaning over the entire bed, humping Avery’s face like a dog.
His dick kept angling out of Avery’s mose and smearing spit over his face. It was at least a foot long and thick as Avery’s wrist, and it throbbed with a desperate, intense horniness. Thumper thrust with all his might even as he missed Avery’s mouth. Whenever he got a good rhythm of throating Avery down for a few seconds, he moaned and groaned and undulated his powerful chest muscles.
The smell of a lit cigarette filled the room. Avery was annoyed — he didn’t allow smoking in his home. He hated cigarettes, but he wasn’t about to complain, even if his mouth weren’t full. Lit cigarette cocked between his lips, Thumper climbed all the way onto the bed.
The position was awkward. No one would have ever chosen to get dome in this position, but Thumper didn’t seem to mind. Maybe he was used to overcrowded prisons. Avery’s body jammed against the wall of his room, laying on his side, while Thumper crawled onto the bed, stooping over so his cock could reach out of his sagging jeans and into Avery’s throat.
“Slurp it good, nigga,” Thumper said. He snuck one callused hand behind Avery’s head, holding it still while he worked his cock in and out. When Avery finally gagged on its thickness invading his throat, Thumper murmured his approval. “There ya go. That’s the sound of a job done right. Move yo’ tongue around mo’.”
Avery did as he was told. He had never tasted a cock this delicious before. Avery could still savor the drops of untainted sweat that clung to his shaft, rather than tasting nothing more than his own spit.
Then the overwhelming saltiness of precum hit Avery’s senses. He moaned around the fat cock in his throat, which made Thumper laugh. He lightly smacked Avery on the cheek, and his callused fingers squeezed his nose shut to help his throat open more.
“You fo’ real, man,” he said. “I like you. You wanna slurp on my balls?”
He didn’t need to ask Avery twice. Avery reached into the hairy dankness of Thumper’s crotch and withdrew a low-hanging sac from the fly of his jeans. He drooled as he pulled off Thumper’s cock and let both hairy balls fall into his mouth.
That enormous brown dick stood straight up from his face. Avery lazily stroked it with one hand, giggling at sight of Thumper’s meat twitching with every touch — Avery kept his hand off-rhythm, light, just barely stroking Thumper’s shaft as he gurgled on those sensitive balls. That was tortuously tantalizing for Thumper, whose hands fluttered as though he was unwilling to touch himself no matter how much his instincts demanded it.
“Whatchoo doin, nigga?!” Rico screamed when he came back into the bedroom. He dropped the soft cloth belt from a bathrobe, which is apparently what he found with which to tie Avery down. Rico sounded like he was about to start crying.
Thumper laughed. “What’s it look like, lor nigga?”
Rico hesitated. He stood there in the doorway. Avery couldn’t see his face because Thumper’s balls overflowed from his mouth, and all that was in front of his eyes was that towering shaft of chocolate brown cock. With every barrel laugh of Thumper’s heavy body, Avery felt the balls on his tongue quiver. He suckled as loudly as he could, and the moist sound of gargling balls filled the room.
Rico audibly gagged. He came closer, approaching gingerly, as though it was a bomb he needed to find a way to defuse.
“You ramrodding’ that man?” Rico asked.
Thumper laughed again, and his balls twitched in Avery’s mouth. “Nah. He slurpin’ on my balls, nigga. Does it look like my dick is in his ass?”
“Ewwww…! He’s slurpin’ on ya balls, nigga!”
“I know, I just said that-
“Why’s he slurpin’ on ya balls? Ain’t that gross?”
“He likes it.”
There was a long silence. Avery could hear Rico come even closer, and kneel as he looked right at the balls disappearing down Avery’s throat.
“He likes the taste of balls?” He peered closer but stepped away as though worried about being splashed. He wrinkled his nose.
Thumper grabbed Rico’s head. Rico squealed and tried to pull away, but Thumper held him close. He dragged his head right to Avery’s ball-slurping face. For a moment it looked like Thumper was going to make Rico swallow his cock while Avery kept working on his balls.
But he didn’t let Rico go. He just held his face there for a long time, so close the spit from Avery’s ball-slurping splattered on Rico’s nose. Rico gagged and bucked, and Thumper let him go.
This time, Thumper and Avery both laughed together, though the sound of Avery’s laughter was a moistly muffled roar because his mouth was full. Rico wiped his face off and roared.
“Ewww! Ew, nigga! I tasted that!”
“Don’t nevuh get locked up, nigga,” Thumper said. He pulled his moist scrotum out of Avery’s mouth, planted it right on Avery’s nostrils and laughed at Rico’s shocked reaction. Avery snaked his tongue out to tease the underside of Thumper’s ballsac.
“I won’t!”
“You gunna embarrass me if you do.” Thumper pointed the tip of his dick into Avery’s mouth, but just jabbed it in once before getting up. He kneeled on the bed, straddling Avery’s body. He grabbed Rico’s dick and put it on his dick, but Rico let go without acknowledging that. Thumper said, “You know how things go in there, nigga.”
“Yeah!” Rico sounded like he was about to cry. “I know how lockup works, brah. If I was in there, I might lay some pipe in a nigga. But I ain’t. I-“
“You don’t want that to be yo’ first time, Rico,” Thumper said. His fingers gripped Avery’s face, rubbing his cheeks and stretching his mouth open. He leaned over until he was so close he nearly kissed Avery right on the lips. Rico watched with baited breath, but then all Thumper did was purse his lips and spit. A wad of saliva landed right in Avery’s mouth, and Thumper forced his lips shut. Thumper licked Avery’s spasming face from his chin to his forehead. “You mine, bitch.” He chuckled to himself. “It ain’t the same if you want it. I kinda miss makin’ prison bitches squirm,” he said, ruefully. “You wanna mouth off this nigga too?”
“God yes!” Avery shouted.
Rico didn’t respond and maybe didn’t understand what Thumper said. He wavered, and looked away when Thumper smiled at him. Without taking his body off the bed, Thumper wrapped one arm around Rico’s shoulder. Rico shuddered.
“C’mon, nigga. You should do this. You ain’t gotta tell no one,” Thumper said. “You gonna look like an idiot if yo’ first time wit’ a man happens behind bars. Don’t young niggas do shit on the downlow these days?”
“No!”
Thumper rolled his eyes. “You don’t, you mean. I know some young niggas do.”
“I got females, Thumper!” Rico said, his voice plaintive and desperate. He closed his eyes while Thumper guided him close to the bed. Rico began undoing his belt, but Thumper stopped him.
“Nah. Real thugs don’t take they clothes off, not to ram it up some whiteboy,” Thumper said. “You might have to run wit’ a quickness.”
Rico’s breathing was slow and swift. He was very nervous, and his hands trembled as he unzipped his fly. He took a deep breath and let his cock flop out. It was plenty long but not as remarkable as Thumper’s, and it wasn’t as thick. Avery still looked at it hungrily.
“Well? Come on, put it in his mouth,” Thumper said. He chuckled. “Gonna break you in tonight, Rico, shit…”
Rico winced. He closed his eyes again, and bit his lip. His dick waggled in front of Avery’s face. Thumper held it in one hand and wagged it like a dog’s tail. Rico sucked in his breath and looked away.
“Rico, you fucking pussy, just do it, if you gonna do it. If you scairt of this whiteboy and wanna run out the door, do that,” Thumper said. “Is you a thug or ain’t you? Thugs ain’t goddamn squeamish ‘bout who swallow they nut. Head is head.”
Rico nodded. He didn’t seem any more relaxed, and with his eyes still closed, he could do little more than flop his cock in the general direction of Avery’s mouth. Avery was eager to taste it. He lifted his head the best he could with Thumper still pinning him down. He got the tip of Rico’s dick in his mouth, but as soon as he touched it with his tongue, Rico giggled like a teenager and backed away.
“Rico!” Thumper screamed. “Don’t be a goddamn pussy. You almost twenty years old, actin’ like a fuckin’ pansy.”
With a startle, Rico stepped forward again. He opened his eyes just long enough to see that Thumper’s cock was still rock-hard, resting against Avery’s face. Thumper roared in frustration and grabbed Rico’s cock with one hand. He aimed it for Avery’s mouth.
“Shit, Thumper! You touchin’ my dick again!” Rico’s eyes opened wide, looking at his shaft in Thumper’s hand. He stood on his toes and sucked in his breath, but he didn’t back away from Thumper.
“Don’t be squeamish,” Thumper said with a snarl.
Avery was shocked that Thumper would touch another man’s dick. It looked like Rico was even more surprised. He looked at it like a bad car accident as Thumper led his dick to Avery’s mouth. Rico stepped forward stiffly, wishing he hadn’t agreed to rob houses with Thumper — he had known something like this would happen — not this exactly, but something unpleasant, Thumper was like that — Rico considered leaving even now. He could leave. Thumper would tease him about it and probably tell everyone Rico left because he couldn’t get hard.
Rico didn’t want to seem squeamish, and a part of him did want a consequence-free orgasm. So he didn’t leave. He just tried to pretend it wasn’t Thumper’s middle-aged, callused fingers pawing over his meat, stroking the shaft and forcing it like a dead snake into Avery’s waiting mouth.
This time Avery immediately licked the tip, which perked up right away. Rico frowned and sucked in his breath, still watching as Thumper stroked him and Avery slurped on him.
Again, Thumper seemed uncaring of how much he touched Rico’s cock, as he pointed his own cock towards Avery’s mouth as well. Avery focused on getting Rico hard while Thumper’s dick poked at his lips. Rico’s lithe frame was so tense he was like a fully clothed statue, his knees trembling as he got hard in Avery’s mouth. Avery got one hand on both dicks and slurped on them both at the same time. Thumper’s was still rock-hard, Rico’s stayed soft as pudding.
“See, nigga? It ain’t bad. You gangbang bitches?”
“Yeah!” Rico scrunched his eyes half-shut, and he leaned back like he wanted to be as far from his dick as possible. He might have been holding his breath, Avery couldn’t tell.
“You ever joust in a bitch’s mouth?”
Rico mumbled over some words that Avery couldn’t quite catch. He sucked in his breath and looked away, then back at his dick touching Thumper’s dick and being battered by Avery’s tongue, then looked away again, then back. With a jolly grin, Thumper wrapped one arm around Rico and brought his head in. He kissed Rico on the forehead and laughed again as Rico pulled away from him.
“Lay off me, nigga! Why we gotta joust and shit?” Rico said.
“I just like fuckin’ wit’ you, nigga,” Thumper said. “But we ain’t gotta joust if you want. I’ll do him up the ass.” Then he backed away. He rolled Avery over onto his back, so Rico had to mount his body just like Thumper had been, in order to aim his dick into Avery’s mouth. Meanwhile, Thumper, in one smooth motion, lifted up Avery’s legs and pulled his sweatpants down.
“Oh shit, you isgonna ram that man!”
“Hell yeah, I ain’t some squeamish nigga who just wanna get his dick wet,” Thumper said. “I been locked up, nigga. I ain’t fuck for a long time.”
“Brah, I ain’t wanna hear that shit. That’s disgustin’-“
“Nigga! Shut yo’ goddamn mouth. If you keep complainin’, I’ll have you stick ‘im too,” he said.
Rico wasn’t really paying attention to his dick. He was much smaller than Thumper, so in order to mount Avery’s chest, he had to stretch his hips and thighs apart. It was distinctly uncomfortably for him, especially in those loose-fitting jeans he still wore. He kept his hips perfectly still as Avery slurped on his smooth brown shaft through the fly. Rico didn’t notice his dick was getting hard in Avery’s mouth.
“Keep yo’ head lookin’ that way if you don’t wanna see it,” Thumper said gruffly as he wedged the tip of his dick between Avery’s cheeks. He shoved a small pillow under there to lift up Avery’s ass, then rammed his dick in.
It was just the first few inches at first, but the pain was intense. Avery moaned around the cock in his throat, as pleasure followed the pain in pulsating throughout his body. That hot cock pushed deeper and deeper inside.
“Brah, can’t you give a warning? He almost bit down on my dick-“
“You ain’t figger out what was about to happen?” Thumper asked. He lifted his shirt up so it wouldn’t get in the way, then lifted it over his head, without taking it off. His high yellow chest was bare and gleaming with sweat. Thumper ground his dick in even deeper and chuckled at Avery’s squirming. “This honky know how to take it. How’s that dome, nigga?”
Rico didn’t answer. He closed his eyes again. His dick was hard, but it seemed that he was still too nervous and distracted to notice. His lithe body bucked instinctively.
“You best get tougher, nigga, or less handsome,” Thumper said. “Prison go’n eat you alive.”
“I ain’t goan to prison! And can you not talk? Yo’ voice is right in my ear. I can’t nut wit’ yo’ voice all up in my shit,” Rico said.
Thumper was leaning forward, so his breath condensed on Rico’s neck. “When you locked up, there ain’t always bitches around. Most of the time, you in a cell wit’ some dudes. Even if you got a bitch, he prolly ain’t around when you want him.”
“I ain’t tryin’-a get locked up, brah.”
“No one tries to get locked up, sometimes it just happens,” Thumper said. “And you gotta feel good however you can.”
Rico shuddered as Thumper’s hands caressed his back. Thumper lifted up his shirt to reveal a broad, smooth brown back. His fingers danced up and down Rico’s spine.
Then his hands roamed lower and lower, until they went past the waist of Rico’s jeans. He grabbed Rico’s plump asscheeks.
“You ever took it up the ass before?”
“No!”
“You got a hell of an ass, nigga,” Thumper said gruffly. He kissed Rico’s bare shoulder then rammed one finger up his asshole.
Rico was so nervous that his erection flagged inside Avery’s mouth. Avery didn’t mind, as this was arousing enough that he didn’t want it to end. Anything that made it go on longer was fine by him.
“How’s that feel, nigga?”
Rico closed his eyes, not willing to answer. He leaned forward and grimaced in pain as his hips began instinctually flexing forward and back, daggering his dick deep into Avery’s throat as he went forward.
Rico couldn’t see what Thumper was doing, so he had no idea that Thumper caressed Avery’s flat stomach. Then he grabbed Avery’s cock and gave it a stroke. He made a quiet shushing sound, which Avery gathered was aimed at him — Thumper didn’t want Rico to know he was giving a reacharound (of sorts — it wasn’t a real reacharound, since Avery was on his back; it was a reach-front).
With the taste of one cock in his mouth and another stimulating his prostate, Avery had no ability to delay his orgasm. He was about to bust a nut without anyone even touching his cock, and now that Thumper was stroking it, he couldn’t resist. Avery cried out but the sound was muffled by Rico’s cock.
Cum spurted from his cock, coating Thumper’s fingers. Thumper didn’t slow down at all. He kept stroking, and moaned as Avery’s body contorted around the cock in his ass.
Rico was so focused on the pleasure coming from both ends that he didn’t notice Avery orgasm. He breathed a sigh of relief as Thumper removed one finger from his ass then gasped when Thumper replaced it with one from the other hand, the hand he had just stroked Avery off with. Rico had no idea that the pinkie finger in his ass was coated in Avery’s cum.
“Ah, gawd, here it comes, brah,” Rico said, his voice soft and weak now that he was letting Thumper finger him. His voice even broke as the first few drops of cum coated Avery’s tongue.
“Nah, niggas paint they bitches’ face,” Thumper said. He grabbed Rico’s cock as it shot its load, pulled it out of Avery’s mouth and aimed it to spray all over his face. Rico’s entire tight body spasmed at Thumper’s touch, and his cock pulsated beneath Thumper’s fingers, his asshole squeezing the finger of Thumper’s other hand..
As the orgasm wrapped around Rico’s muscles, he leaned forward, gasping. Rico yelped and squirmed but didn’t try to crawl away, he just submitted to the humiliation of enjoying his cum spray into Avery’s mouth.
Thumper grunted. He stayed still for just a moment. He kissed Rico’s neck, making Rico shudder at the touch of Thumper’s lips. Avery stroked Rico’s sensitive cockshaft as he felt Thumper’s cumload spray within him.
It was hot and creamy, and Avery and Thumper moaned together, as though harmonizing with each other. Thumper’s guttural, tremulous tone filled the room, and Rico shuddered in disgust at the sound. Avery, feeling bold, pushed his hands up underneath Rico’s shirt. He gripped his pecs — just as he had suspected, Rico was small, but powerfully-muscled. Each pectoral muscle was like an overpumped basketball, tense with post-orgasmic glow and awkward tension, his older thug friend still massaging his back and fingering his ass.
Then he was done. Thumper didn’t move. He kept his limp cock right in Avery’s ass, while both cum-covered hands caressed Rico’s body. It was obvious he was playing a prank on Rico, seeing how much touching he would accept before complaining. Rico held his breath and closed his eyes, trying to pretend there weren’t men feeling him up from both sides.
“Okay, that’s enough, you two,” Rico finally said. He nearly fell off the bed in his haste to get away, and he sighed when Thumper leggo his ass. He shuddered as he pulled his shirt back down and tucked his cock away in his pants. “I know you just messin’ wit’ me.”
Thumper dismounted Avery’s ass, the intense pressure of being penetrated finally leaving Avery’s mind. Thumper stood next to the bed, then much to Avery’s surprise, he dropped his pants all the way to his ankles. A thick, hairy pair of asscheeks waited right above Avery’s face.
Thumper pulled those cheeks apart to reveal a twinkling brown asshole. He laughed at Rico’s shudder of disgust, and Thumper planted his ass right on Avery’s face.
“Give it a kiss, man,” Thumper said.
Avery did as he was told. Thumper waited for the kiss on his ass, then shuddered and stood up. He pulled his pants back up.
“Okay, we ain’t takin’ this man’s shit,” Thumper said.
“What?! After all that, nigga?”
Thumper nodded. “We already rammed him. That’s enough. Ain’t really got shit anyway.”
“Come back anytime,” Avery said. He blushed. He should follow them out to the living room, to make sure they didn’t actually take anything. But he was too weak from the dick he just took to stand or walk, so he just watched them both march out the door.
From the living room, he heard Rico scoff. “We ain’t comin’ back-“
“Hell yeah we is,” Thumper said. “You find me a female tomorrow night, Rico. If you can’t get one to take it in the ass, I’ll either ram you or this honky. Your choice.”
“Man, Thumper… I mean, him, obviously-“
“Yo’ choice. I like touchin’ yo’ ass while I ram. Might keep you wit’ me e’ry time from now on,” Thumper said. He paused and yelled back, “Later, whiteboy. Get some porno mags we can look at next time.” The door slammed shut, then Thumper opened it. “Black chicks!”
“Okay,” Avery said, his voice too weak for anyone outside the bedroom to hear. He heard Thumper chuckling as he slammed the front door again, and Avery breathed a sigh of relief.
He was exhilarated. He settled down in his sheets, unwilling to move because he could still smell that masculine scent. He didn’t want it to ever go away.
There was a tap on his window. It was Rico’s handsome cornrowed face, frowning at him. “Hey, man? Thanks for that. I’ll come back alone sometime. I don’t wanna mess around with that ol’ nigga. But I want another nut from you. Don’t tell no one, okay?”
“Okay,” Avery said breathlessly.
Rico paused and whisper-yelled away from the window. “Alright, Thumper, damn! I’m comin’! I just dropped my lighter.” Then he muttered into the window before scurrying away. “Keep yo’ door unlocked and yo’ lips unchapped, man. I be back.”

The Frat Boy Bottoms

When Avery attends a college party, he never thought he’d get to play Seven Minutes in Heaven with a studly frat bro named Chad. But not only does that happen, Chad is willing to bend over and take it however Avery wants to give it, as long as Avery puts in a good word with a woman. That gives Avery an incredible opportunity to explore the world of Twink on Top!

Read it now as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Avery came to the Omega Omicron Tau party with Claire Quentin, who was possibly the hottest girl in the entire nursing college. She knew it too. Men reacted like cartoon dogs when a pretty girl-dog walks by and their dog-jaw literally drops to the ground while their dog-heart pounds out of their chest. The frat boys blushed as they stared at her beautiful body and sweet face. Her body parts jiggled in a most delightful way with every step she took, like a sultry stack of jello. Avery sighed and beat back his jealousy.
They were all young enough that the genders didn’t mix too much once the party began. Everyone was too awkward for that. The couples danced together, and eventually made their way upstairs or into the pantry to make out. Meanwhile the single boys remained in their own little huddle, drinking, daring each other to drink more and insulting each other’s ability to hold their alcohol. The single girls danced and giggled with each other, sneaking glances at the boys whenever they thought no one was looking.
“Hey, Lisa Anne, which one do you think is cutest?”
“Chad.” Lisa Anne blushed and giggled.
“Chad,” said Brenda, without even being asked. Everyone laughed as the boys glanced over, especially Chad, who seemed to have heard that the girls were talking about him. He tried — and failed — to look like he was not eavesdropping.
It was only Avery who felt equally at home among the women and the boys. He smiled to Chad. “I was just telling these total sluts what a hottie you were.” Chad turned bright red even as he forced a cocky smile on his face. “I’m on your side, Chad,” Avery said and made a mock black-power salute.
Avery and the other girls continued to drink daiquiris and sneak glances at the boys, especially Chad. Chad was a square-jawed all-American type, with blond hair and a perfect little nose. He was muscular and athletic, and he was rumored to have a giant dick. That was the only thing Avery could think about every time he saw Chad. He didn’t know if it was true, but he hoped it was. Chad kind of moved like he had a big dick.
“Seven Minutes in Heaven! Remember that?” Lisa Anne asked, snapping Avery back to reality. He enjoyed watching Chad’s neck muscles writhe as he chugged a beer to the chanting and whoops of his buddies.
“Ohmigod, Lisa Anne that is such a good idea! I haven’t played that since in forever!”
“Boys, do you want to play Seven Minutes in Heaven?!” The girls laughed as the boys hesitated, then agreed all at once — none of them wanted to seem like the loser who didn’t want to play along. There were more fraternity brothers from the university than sorority sisters from the nursing college at this party, even though it was a sorority party. That was simply because GHU was much bigger than the women’s nursing college.
Not that there were too many men for Avery. He greatly appreciated the male form and would have been fine with no women at all. More than fine. Well, without women, there’d be no way to get the men to play Seven Minutes in Heaven. Frat boys will do anything for the chance to bang a sorority girl. So Avery did find women useful in that sense.
They all sat in a circle, while Lisa Anne found an empty beer bottle. There were only four closets in the house, which was going to limit the game. The whole point of Seven Minutes in Heaven was that they needed to have some privacy. So only four pairs were going to be able to play at once.
Avery felt a twinge of awkwardness. He hung back, not quite in the circle but not out of it either. He wasn’t sure at first if they would even want to include him. He wasn’t a student at GHU, he just lived near the campus and hung out there often.
“C’mon, Avery, the boys will be good sports about it. If the bottle points to you… They’ll follow the rules,” Lisa Anne said, her cheeks turning red as she giggled with Claire. “Right, boys? Us girls will go in a closet with each other if that’s what the bottle says.”
None of them spoke at first. Then one of the frat boys, Nail, grumbled, “Yeah fine.”
Avery wondered what would happen if he really did end up in a closet with a girl. Would he be able to handle it? They sat alternating genders. Avery kind of wished he hadn’t agreed to play, but he desperately wanted a chance to spend seven minutes in heaven with one of these guys. One in particular — Chad, with the dick large enough to have its own rumor mill.
Lisa Anne spun first since it was her idea to play the game. The bottle pointed to Nail, who was cute and well-muscled, with a perfectly coiffed hairdo. He beamed broadly, and breathed an audible sigh of relief that he ended up with hot blonde Lisa Anne and not Avery or the fat chick. Lisa Anne squealed with delight and scurried off to the front closet with him.
Chad sat next to Lisa Anne, so it was his turn to spin next. He watched Claire, the sexy chick in a slutty dress, as though he could will the bottle to point to her. She was so pretty few of the boys ever looked away from her. They were like puppies watching a can of dog food get opened.
Since Claire sat next to Avery, he and Chad both made a hopeful face when the bottle slowed down in that direction.
But then it landed on Avery.
It took the circle of drunken college students a few moments to realize what had happened, then they all lapsed into squeals of laughter. The girls giggled and clutched each other, while the boys slapped their own thighs, falling over each other in exaggerated and drunken laughter.
Chad blushed but nodded dourly. His broad shoulders twitched. He glanced at Claire as though hoping she would give him permission to say no. But she just giggled and hid her face in her best friend’s arms. He walked towards the closet in the hallway, trembling though he tried to hide it with a cocky, heavy-footed strut.
“Wait,” Avery said, flipping his limp wrist in Chad’s direction. “Aren’t you going to carry me across the threshold?”
Chad’s face turned an even brighter cranberry red, as the assembled partygoers erupted in whoops and catcalls. But he looked past Avery to the girls, especially Claire, and whatever he saw there apparently suggested he should do whatever it took to keep her laughing. Chad stripped off his shirt, revealing a chest that was even more sculpted than Avery had thought, and he plastered on a big fake smile. There were thick tufts of hair over his bulging pecs, and his muscles roiled with anxiety.
It all happened so fast, and before Avery realized that his joke worked, Chad had swept him up in his arms. Avery swooned, exaggerating his reaction, though there was a big kernel of truth in his squeals of desire that he blurted out like some romance novel heroine. His face nuzzled those iron-hard bulging biceps as Chad squeezed him into the tiny closet at the end of the hall.
In the end, there was simply no way to carry someone across that particular threshold. Chad had to put Avery down on his feet and they crammed into the tiny closet. Avery shut the door behind him, then took out his cell phone. He set the timer for seven minutes (and then when Chad looked away, Avery added another thirty seconds).
“You don’t have to do anything,” Avery said, disappointed in himself for saying it. But he’d feel bad pawing all over Chad if he didn’t want to do it. Just being in his arms for a few seconds had been thrilling enough.
Well, not enough. But you know, Avery could live with it.
Chad breathed a sigh of relief. “Look…” he said, the anxiety evident even in the dimly lit closet. “I’ll do whatever you want, if you can get Claire to hook up with me.”
“What?”
“Put in a good word for me. Tell her I’m cool. She listens to you,” he said. “I’ll let you jerk me off or whatever if you want.”
“Other way around, big guy,” Avery said. He meant it as a joke as he said it, but he realized even before he had finished speaking that Chad was more comfortable with this than Avery had assumed. He was embarrassed about it in front of his friends, but now that they were in the closet alone, he didn’t seem to mind Avery’s hands clutching his toned torso. Avery tweaked his nipples and let his fingers roam up and down Chad’s perfect chest and torso.
“What?” He had that dumb-frat-boy look on his darkened face. Avery kissed him on the neck, and his muscles bristled, tensing beneath Avery’s grasp.
Swallow his dick, Chad! You’ll love how it tastes!
Do it, broh!
The other frat boys laughed at each other as they catcalled to Chad, who just rolled his eyes and ignored them.
“I wanna be on top,” Avery said as though it was the most natural thing in the world. In truth, he would have jumped at the chance to jerk off Chad or even just tweak his nipples once. But he was drunk enough to ask for more than that, and he got the impression Chad would do anything for a chance to get laid by Claire, so Avery thought he might as well shoot for the moon.
“You want…?”
“I won’t tell anyone. I’ll tell them I just jacked you off,” Avery said. “They’ll never know. But I can get Claire to go out with you.”
“Really?”
“I can’t promise she’ll put out. But if you take her to that French restaurant on Market, and you don’t ask her for a blowjob, she’ll probably at least give you a handie,” Avery said. “If you’re not pushy, she’ll give up the pussy on date three.”
“Really?!”
Avery nodded. “She’s told me her schedule. She doesn’t like pushy guys. You gotta pretend you don’t care if she puts out or not.”
“Oh,” he said like that was an impossible request.
“So come on,” Avery said. “You’re really gonna give it up? I’ll put in the world’s best word for you with her. I’ll tell her you saved my cat.”
“Is that a metaphor?”
“What? No, I have an actual cat. I’ll tell her it ran away and you grabbed it right before a car ran over it. No, a truck, a truck almost ran over it,” Avery said. Then he thought for a moment. “Wait, no, a truck did run over it, a truck driven by a greasy redneck who didn’t notice because he was distracted catcalling a girl. You rescued it and brought it to a vet and paid for emergency treatment. Then you brought it back to me. Her name is Buttfucker, by the way.”
“Your cat’s name is Buttfucker?”
“Long story.”
“I don’t have enough money to pay for emergency vet surgery-“
“That doesn’t matter, sweetheart,” Avery said, hugging his big dumb chest close. “The cat wasn’t actually run over by a truck. If she asks, you don’t have money because you spent it all on surgery. She’ll believe that.”
“Oh, yeah, good idea,” he said.
“I know. Boys are so dumb. You were probably planning on taking her to Olive Garden or something.”
“What’s wrong with Olive Garden?”
“Taking a girl to Olive Garden is kinda like saying you’re such a slut I don’t need to woo you at all, but since I’m a gentleman, I’ll buy you a boatload of shit-covered carbs in the hopes of making you too tired to bother saying no. It’s not a romantic place, Chad. Don’t ever take a girl to Olive Garden. You’re better off giving her a few slices of buttered bread and a glass of tap water.”
“Wow, geez, is that what went wrong with Anne?”
“Anne Slattery, from Beta Kappa Tau?”
“Yeah.”
“Is that really where you took her? Ohmigod, yes, that’s a problem, that’s where you went wrong. She has class, Chad, she’s from Connecticut. You can’t take someone like that to Olive Garden. Egads,” Avery said, “What do they teach you boys in school?”
“Chemistry,” he said with a long low sigh of regret.
Avery rammed his hands down Chad’s pants and shivered with delight as he felt the frat boy’s limp cock dangling in the humid jungle of his crotch. It was just as big as they said, and its meaty thickness gave Avery a startlingly intense wave of desire. Avery gave it a squeeze as he used his other hand to undo Chad’s pants.
Chad grimaced but did the same. He pushed his hand into Avery’s pants and wrinkled his nose as he gave Avery’s cock a limp, lifeless stroke. Avery didn’t mind that so much. His awkward fumbling was half the attraction, Avery thought, and it more than made up for his awkward technique.
“So, uh, do I just… get on my knees?” Chad asked.
“Of course. Haven’t you ever had a blowjob?”
“I didn’t know if guys did it differently,” Chad said. He slowly sunk to his knees as he undid Avery’s belt. He pulled down his designer underwear and looked away as Avery’s dick twitched and spasmed in front of his face. His hot breath condensed on the shaft. “You promise you’ll tell her I’m a good guy?”
“Baby, I’ll talk you up so good she’ll marry you,” Avery said. He put his hands on his hips, heart pounding — he never thought Seven Minutes in Heaven would be this heavenly. A full minute was already gone.
A part of Avery still thought Chad would back out right up until he held his breath, opened his mouth and swallowed Avery’s dick. He gagged as soon as it hit the back of his throat, but he didn’t stop. He was determined to get the whole thing in his mouth.
You can hold him down and ram him, Avery! We’ll all back you up, Chad was dressed like a girl. He’s been totally begging for it all night! The boys who hadn’t been chosen in the game laughed as though this was the funniest thing they had ever heard. Chad blushed in the dark. He loves it in the ass, okay? He shoves everything up there: carrots, dicks, dick-shaped carrots, a manual on carving carrots into dicks, he’ll take anything up the ass!
Yeah, he loves being fisted! Absolutely loves it! And when he says no, that’s his way of saying ‘fist me harder’!
His tongue slathered spit up and down the shaft, sending waves of sensation up Avery’s spine. Avery gripped his broad shoulders, holding him tight. His knees went weak from a combination of pleasure and anxious relief that it had begun. He reached down to caress Chad’s strapping back muscles.
That felt so good Avery couldn’t help but moan. His voice wavered, and he held onto Chad’s powerful body for support. Chad seemingly didn’t realize how good he was at servicing Avery’s cock — men were always better at that than women because they have the equipment and know how to make it feel good. Chad didn’t know enough to know he could do it badly. His tongue battered Avery’s cock, and Chad’s big mitts gripped Avery by the smoothness of his pale asscheeks.
“Can I ram you?” Avery asked, holding his breath. He assumed Chad would say no, but he felt he had to ask. He could already tell that Chad had a perfectly firm pair of asscheeks, and normally Avery would just ask if he could give him a rimjob. Chad had a very rimjobbable ass. But since Chad seemed to be willing to bottom, Avery figured it couldn’t hurt to ask.
Chad pulled off his dick and hesitated. “I dunno,” he said. “I don’t like the taste of cock, so that’d be… But won’t that hurt? I don’t have any lube with me. Do you just stick it in?”
Avery shrugged. “I can provide the lube. I know how to do it.”
“You carry lube with you?”
“I’ll use nature’s lube,” Avery said with a giggle. He stuck his tongue out and licked the air, miming out a rimjob.
“Really?” Chad said with a sick smile. “You’ll lick my ass?”
Avery nodded. “You ever had a rimjob?”
“Only black guys ever get rimjobs,” Chad said. Then he stammered as though he hadn’t mean to say that. “I mean… The only two guys I know who ever got a rimjob are both black. It’s no big deal.” He excitedly bent over, gripping the door handle and spreading his asscheeks by pulling his legs far apart. “Not in a racist way. Just, girls give black guys rimjobs more than white guys.”
Oh…,” Avery said. He had no idea that that was true. He’d have to ask his female friends wht that is. “There’s so much I don’t know about girls. It’s a mystery, wrapped in an enigma, and smelling of fish tacos.” He sunk to his knees and dove face-first into Chad’s ass. His cheeks were just as firm as Avery had imagined, and his powerful thighs were tensed tight. Chad’s whole body was tight right now, as both anxiety and arousal kept him flexing hard.
Avery’s tongue ran all the way up and down the crack first, shuddering as he ran overtop that grimy tight hole. Avery loved to give rimjobs to men with intact asses, so he had to really push to get his tongue in there. Chad’s muscles rippled when his tongue passed the rim and teased his sensitive prostate. His ass tasted clean too, like cheap soap and the scrubbed linoleum of a group shower, a little bit of the scent of sweat-soaked elastic seeping into Avery’s nostrils from the edges of his ass, where the straps of the jockstrap he often wore would be.
He flicked his tongue in, which made Chad yelp as a twinge of pleasure — and maybe a bit of pain too — ran up his spine. But Avery was inexorable, lapping at the beautiful brown hole until he could easily get his entire tongue in there.
Then Avery stood. Chad shuddered again in anticipation as Avery spat into his palm, then used that hand to cover his own dick in spit. When it was good and slick, Avery wedged it in between Chad’s cheek and shoved the tip in before he could tighten his ass all over again.
“Are you okay?” Avery asked when Chad threw his head back and let out a hushed howl.
“Yeah…” Chad said, his voice trailing off. He panted as Avery’s dick slid in bit by bit. “We only got like two minutes left. Can you cum that quickly?”
“With an ass like that, I could cum in ten seconds if I was going for speed,” Avery said with a smile. He humped slowly at first, gradually building up speed when Chad didn’t complain too much. He did wince and grimace, but there was a surprised pleasurable tone to his voice — it didn’t hurt as bad as he had thought it would, and a part of him exulted in his prostate’s sensitivity sending shockwaves through his system.
Avery’s orgasm began almost immediately. He wanted to slow himself down, but he knew Chad would back out as soon as the seven (and a half) minutes were up. So he kept himself going even as he shot his load embarrassingly quickly. Huge gobs of it flooded Charlie’s body, more than Avery had ever shot before.
But not before experiencing such intense pleasure that Avery wondered if frat boy ass would forever be ruined for him. No other man’s ass would ever be as tight and perfect, quivering like a bowl full of jelly, as Chad’s. His asshole clenched around Avery’s dick as he moaned, then bit his lip to avoid making too much noise. Both him and Avery struggled not to cry out loud.
They both groaned. Luckily it sounded like the party had moved to one of the other closets, where they listened and giggled at whichever couple was in there. Chad’s face was bright red as he closed his eyes, trying to take every inch of Avery’s dick. Each thrust into his ass sent a spurt of pain through Chad’s body and an explosion of pleasure through Avery’s.
Finally the end came, and Avery felt a twinge of regret as cum flowed from his dick — he wished he had had more time within Chad’s plump, juicy ass. He squirmed, spraying his load over every inch of Chad’s insides. He shivered with desire as intense pleasure rocketed up and down his body. It was so intense his fingers tightened into claws that ripped at Chad’s smooth back.
It continued for what felt like forever. Avery’s orgasm seemed to be more than seven and a half minutes in itself, but the alarm didn’t go off. He filled Chad up with his seed and stayed there, still, savoring the feel of Chad’s ass tightening up around his dick. Cum dripped down between Chad’s thighs. Every time either one of them moved it sent a whole new wave of sensations to wrack both men’s bodies.
Chad groaned and pulled off. He gasped as his ass emptied, and he breathed deeply. He was relieved when he sunk slowly to the ground on weakened knees. Then he winced when he put weight on his aching ass. He rolled onto his side and struggled to his feet.
“There, there, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Avery asked.
Chad shook his head. “It hurt,” he said. “A lot. But no. It wasn’t that bad.” He blushed intensely. “It did hurt though.”
“It always hurts the first time. It’ll feel better next time.”
“There is definitely not ever gonna be a next time,” Chad said, his voice suddenly hostile. He glared at Avery. “I’m not doing this again, and you better follow through.”
“I will, I will, I promise,” Avery said. He pulled out his cell phone, just seconds before the seven-minute alarm he had set went off. “I’m texting her now. I’ll tell her you have a fantastic dick.” Though a part of him wanted to brag about what happened, he knew that if he followed through and Chad ended up getting laid, the other frat boys would find out. Chad would probably just tell them that he allowed Avery to jack him off, but Avery was alright with that — he would gladly jack off every single frat boy in this house right now if they’d let him.
You two done making out in there? I’m pretty sure it’s been seven minutes. That was Lisa Anne’s voice, outside the closet.
Avery opened the door and smiled. They were both dressed now. It smelled like sex in the closet, but he didn’t think Lisa Anne noticed. It smelled strongly of beer outside the closet, which probably overpowered the semeny scent inside.
“Yeah, we’re done,” Chad said. He pumped his biceps and held his shirt in his hands as he flexed his pecs. Lisa Anne swooned, blushed and tried to hide how aroused she was. Chad gently pushed Avery out of the way. “He got fresh, but I gave him seven minutes to remember.”
Before Chad could react, Avery lowered his head and sucked on his left nipple. His pec was hard like a volleyball, which made Avery want to plow him all over again. Chad’s eyes bugged out, and Avery pulled away.
“That’s right, sweetheart,” Avery said, breathlessly exaggerating how tired he was, as though being in Chad’s presence had exhausted him. He collapsed into Lisa Anne’s arms as they all hurried back to the main room.
The circle had reformed. The bottle was in play, and Avery sat down, getting ready for his second go. He smiled and glanced around at all the frat boys, wondering which one he would get next.
This party, he thought, was turning out better than he ever thought it would be.

The Officer

Desmond is a trustee at the local police station, and that means he gets his pick of alpha-male cop meat… except for the studly Officer Savillano.

Until one day Savillano himself arranges a meetup. His wife is sick, and he is desperate to get a load off, which Desmond is all too happy to help with!

Can Officer Salazar Savillano find the sweet release he craves?!

Read it now as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

The storage closet was dim and dark. Desmond Talley hurried in, then tried to switch the light on. The door shut as he flicked the switch. The light didn’t turn on. The closet remained pitch-black.
“Damn it,” he muttered to himself. “Nothing in this place works right.” He grabbed for the doorknob to reopen the door — just enough to get some light in so he could see.
But the door swung open before he could, and Officer Savillano walked in, quickly, quietly shutting the door behind himself as though he didn’t want anyone to see him come in here. Desmond caught a whiff of his cologne, which was potent and spicy, warm, musky, pungent, like the jockstrap of a very clean Chinese sailor.
Desmond had been in the jailhouse at Precinct 17 for a couple weeks, and he’d found it mind-crushingly dull. He had always greatly admired the male form, and he thought the one bright spot of going to prison was that the men would have marvelous physiques. That might be true in prison — Desmond hadn’t gone yet — but in a jail, it seemed, like the jailhouse here, the average inmate was sixty-four, sickly, fat and possessing a cock like a mosquito bite. Desmond was not into it. The one genuinely handsome guy he got to share a cell with at all was a male stripper (a bit of a prettyboy, but Desmond wasn’t going to complain) who was also literally piss-drunk. Desmond wasn’t into molesting unconscious prettyboys who stank of urine.
But the one bright spot was Officer Salazar Savillano.
That’s because Savillano was a thick-limbed amateur bodybuilder, with a craggy face, square jaw and an intense, stawk-laden accent like a Bronx cabbie. He was short, about Desmond’s height, and he carried around his muscles like he stole them from a much taller man. He had a harsh voice like he gargled with cigarette butts, which made the other cops call him a goblin.
“Yo, hey man, hey,” Officer Savillano said, whispering, his double-barreled voice resonating in the tiny closet, into which he followed Desmond.
The jailhouse was quiet because it was night-time in the middle of the week, no crowds of revelers in the drunk tank, no convention at the hotel filling up with desperate men and desperate hos, no holidays right now to drink at then drive home. It promised to be a night of quiet dullness at Precinct 17.
Except for this one dalliance in the closet, wherein Desmond got so close to Savillano he could smell both his cologne and the medical-grade deodorant he wore underneath it.
Savillano was the only officer on duty right now, though the kitchen crew was in the other room cleaning up for the night. Desmond wasn’t in his cell because he was a prefect now, which meant he was allowed out to work in the jailhouse. He mopped floors and did whatever other tasks the cops asked.
Sometimes that included jerking them off, when their no-doubt bitchy wives refused to put out. Sheriff Torkelson told Desmond he could say no any time he wanted, but Desmond had a thing for cops, and he hadn’t yet met one he would turn down. Savillano never asked though.
It was Officer Savillano who had asked him to come into this walk-in closet to get a box of breathalyzer tubes. As always, when that gravel-coated voice filled Desmond’s ears, Desmond felt a surge of adrenaline and shivered in the wake of his body heat. His uniform shirt was partially unbuttoned now, revealing his hairy chest. One pearly drop of sweat plopped off his heavy cavemanish brow onto Desmond’s nose, making him shimmy and lick his lips. The salty flavor flooded his senses.
“Yo, hey,” Officer Savillano said. His gravelly voice wavered, and it filled the air like a steam cloud, echoing in the walk-in closet. He pursed his lips and let out a little grumble like there were other things he wanted to say but hadn’t yet come up with the words to say them.
“Hey. The light isn’t working. I think the breathalyzer tubes are over here. But the lightbulb doesn’t work, I keep telling Jefferson he needs to get more lightbulbs, he’s such a retard. If you just open the door a crack-” Desmond blushed, not that anyone could see it. It was obvious Officer Savillano wanted to talk to him, probably to ask if Desmond knew who was smuggling weed into the jail. Desmond did know, but he wasn’t about to say.
His hands clutched Savillano around the waist, which Officer Savillano didn’t stop or even respond to. Desmond liked the thickness of his meaty frame, and his muscles flexed under Desmond’s touch.
Trustees weren’t allowed to touch cops, and cops couldn’t touch trustees except by following the Five Pillars of Compliance. Desmond had seen the training video, and he’d watched the cops sign off on it without watching the video. Desmond couldn’t blame them for not watching it, but the rank hypocrisy did annoy him. Desmond had had to watch the same video, so that he would know how to comply, using the Five Pillars of Compliance.
So far, not a single Pillar had been used.
“I know it don’t work. The light ain’t workin’ cuz I took the bulb out,” Savillano said. He paused. “I threw it away. I’ll tell Jefferson to put in the order. But shush up.” He wrapped his powerful arms around Desmond, whose heart fluttered, then Savillano picked him up to switch positions with him. That placed Desmond right next to the door.
“Oh. Savillano…” Desmond was confused, a bit scared, and a whole lot aroused. Savillano’s warmth and the musk of his cologne swarmed and swirled around him, and Desmond got dizzy in his thick-bodied presence.
“I put ya next to the door, on account of so you can leave,” Savillano said, aiming his voice right at the back of Desmond’s neck, where his breath condensed moistly. He whispered, but he had such a deep, potent voice that it wasn’t very quiet. No one was around anyway — it was after five, so all the cops save Savillano were gone. There were only four inmates in the jail census, so there was only a need for one officer at night.
“Oh…” Desmond’s dick rocketed to attention. He was already imagining getting rammed by Savillano’s hopefully fat cock, but the intellectual part of his mind assumed that wasn’t it. Savillano presumably had something else to ask. Desmond was just too horny to think of any other reason to go through all this.
“So… I ain’t like… a bad guy or nothin’,” Officer Savillano said. He talked a lot of shit about his prowess with women, he was always bragging about it. Desmond didn’t believe a word of it. Savillano was married, and he didn’t cheat. Desmond would put money on it. Savillano liked to front, but he wasn’t the kind of man women lust for. He wasn’t charming, rich or even tall.
“Oh. Okay…”
“I mean… Look, man… Y’know ‘bout my wife?”
“No.”
“Ain’t Thorne tell you?”
“No.”
“Oh. She got cancer, man. She-“
“Oh, wow, I’m sorry, man, that sucks…”
“Yeah. She got bone cancer, she gonna be dead soon.”
“Damn…” This dark-closet encounter was becoming more morose than arousing, Desmond thought. But he caught another whiff of Officer Savillano’s natural musk beneath his cologne, and Desmond had to suppress an embarrassing moan.
“Yeah, look, man… You can say no. Forgett’boutit, yu know. It ain’t a big deal. I got, y’know… I can do… othuh shit… I just was, yu know, like, whatevuh…” He snorted and wiped more sweat off his square-jawed face with one hand. “Look, dawg, man, like… I been, yu know… You cool, right?”
Desmond nodded, too nervous to say anything. Then he remembered he was in the dark, so he had to say yes out loud. Before he could, Officer Savillano just kept talking as though he had said it anyway.
“Well… I mean… Ain’t no big deal, but yu know, I seen you lookin’ at me, and shit, and Thorne told me you-” He paused, and Desmond didn’t need to see his face to know he was blushing. Savillano chuckled throatily. “He say you told him you’d eat beef stew outta my ass.”
Desmond giggled. “He told you that?”
“Yeah, I mean, whatevuh, but, yu know… I don’t want that. Not that. That’s weird. And gross. And dirty. And-“
“It was just a joke. I wouldn’t really eat beef stew out of your ass. I’m not sure it’s possible. Maybe like some pad thai.”
“Uh-huh. Well, yu know… Just…”
“What’s wrong, Savillano? Just say it. If you don’t want me to check out your ass all the time, just say so. And, y’know, get an uglier ass, or at least looser-fitting uniform pants. I like muscular thighs, and I can not lie.” Desmond was embarrassed now that he assumed he was in trouble for looking at Savillano’s ass. Could I be arrested over that? He didn’t think so.
“Can I ram you?!” he blurted out.
“What?”
Savillano murmured to himself. “Look, man, you can say no. I ain’t comin’ to you as an officer of the law. You gettin’ outta here in two weeks, ain’t nothin’ I could do about that even if I wanted to, which I don’t. You ain’t gonna be in trouble or nothin’, you can say no.”
“Okay…”
“But, yu know… If you wanted… I’s…” He grabbed his crotch, which Desmond couldn’t see but did sense in the darkness. “I could do, like… I just… Yu know…”
“Oh, you can’t screw your wife anymore, I see…” Desmond said with a sympathetic cluck of his tongue. “Of course, sweetie.” He touched Savillano’s belly. He was a weightlifter, so he had a strong, no-fat belly, but it wasn’t flat either, he was muscular enough that his belly protruded a bit. His muscles all twitched and rippled as soon as Desmond touched him through his uniform shirt, like he had been waiting a long time to be touched.
“Ah, shit, okay, thanks, thanks a lot… You can make me stop or slow down or whatever. Just say it, no problem,” Savillano said. He cleared his throat. “It ain’t even like I can’t, yu know, mess around wit’ a girlie. I got females all over, y’know, they want me, they be sayin’ I should calls ‘em up as soon as… Yu know, if I evuh wanna play around, ya feel me? But I ain’t gonna cheat on my wife on her deathbed. That ain’t right.” He sighed a long chambersome sigh of relief. “Alright, man. Here.” He had a bag with him, or maybe he had placed it in the closet in preparation for this encounter.
Desmond had been daydreaming about this for so long he went right to massaging Savillano’s biceps, making it hard for him to take things out of the plastic bag in his hands. Then Desmond wrinkled his nose as Savillano sprayed him with perfume. His muscles flexed beneath Desmond’s touch.
“There, that’s her perfume. Put this on,” Savillano said. He put a wig on Desmond. It was a long, feminine wig — blonde? Desmond couldn’t tell because it was too dark, but he thought maybe blond; Officer Savillano seemed like the type to date a blonde, or more likely an Italian raven with dyed blonde hair.
Savillano sniffed deep of Desmond’s scent, his big, ungainly nose coming so close it glancingly touched Desmond’s neck. Whatever he smelled there must been enticing, because Savillano moaned, and his thick-fingered, callused hands wrapped around Desmond’s waist. Desmond wasn’t allowed cologne in his cell, so he just smelled like soap and deodorant, hopefully. He did buy the soap that smelled like mango though.
“Girl, you smell good enough to eat…” Savillano said with a menacing rumble, sounding like that was how he initiated sex with his wife. Desmond shivered and let out a girlish giggle. He placed both hands on Savillano’s broad shoulders, then slowly helped him shrug off his uniform shirt. He leaned in and jerked a few droplets of sweat off Officer Savillano’s hairy chest, on the rim of his sweat-suffused wifebeater.
It was unwashed, Desmond realized. The undershirt. The uniform shirt was dry-cleaned, but Savillano wasn’t washing his clothes. Or rather, Mrs. Savillano wasn’t. That made Desmond again cluck his tongue sympathetically, though he didn’t say why. Maybe Officer Savillano realized it. In any case, a chamberous moan escaped from his chest as Desmond spat up and down the width and breadth of his powerful torso.
As Desmond removed his shirt, Savillano explored Desmond’s body with his hands. He knew he wasn’t with his wife, of course, but Desmond looked similar to her; he was the right height and size, and he even had a similar personality. Savillano felt his waist and his smooth thighs as he took Desmond’s pants down. He kept his hands away from Desmond’s crotch and chest, not wanting to shatter his own illusion. Desmond smelled so much like her that Savillano could picture her as she had been back when she was well.
She had told him to sleep with other women. When she went into the hospital last month — and it was pretty obvious, no matter what the doctors said, that she wouldn’t ever leave — she had told Savillano to find someone else, not to even wait for her to pass away. Savillano had refused, of course.
But the more he heard the sound of Desmond’s effeminate panting just like his wife made when they shared the marital bed, the more Savillano knew he had to do it. The fact that Desmond was a man made it easier — physically more difficult, but emotionally easier because it wasn’t cheating. Savillano remained fiercely devoted to his wife and would never cheat on her.
When she died though… he didn’t want to think about that until it happened. Dating was going to be difficult. He hadn’t been on a date in twenty years.
Desmond dropped to his knees to handle Savillano’s cock, but much to his surprise, Savillano caught him. He wrapped his muscular arms around Desmond once more. Desmond gripped Savillano’s corded-muscle forearm while Savillano swooped down and kissed him on the lips.
He moaned into Desmond’s mouth. Desmond never thought an alpha male like Officer Savillano would agree to kiss him, so he was momentarily disconcerted. Then he kissed him back, and Savillano’s tongue plunged into his mouth.
Desmond wrapped his arms around Savillano’s broad shoulders, then jumped up and gripped his thick torso with his legs. “You’re so strong, sweetie-“
“Call me big boy,” Savillano said breathlessly, before resuming his shower of kisses..
“Ooh, I love your muscles, big boy,” Desmond said. He kissed Savillano on the neck while he unbuttoned his uniform shirt. “I bet you’ve been struggling with overflowing balls for a long time, huh?” He reached down and teasingly touched his cock through his uniform slacks with one hand, the other one massaging the hump of his toned biceps. “You’re so strong…”
“I need you…” He sounded like he was near tears. He kissed Desmond again, his tongue exploring Desmond’s mouth. He was firm and forceful, but gentle, his muscles hard as iron beneath Desmond’s touch. Desmond swooned, dizzy with desire, glad he could support himself on Officer Savillano’s sturdy body.
He put Desmond down, then took his shirt off while Desmond dropped back to his knees. Desmond flopped his cock out through the fly of his slacks. He was already half-hard, and Desmond kissed him right on the cocktip.
“Ooh, big boy, I can’t wait to taste your dick in my throat. Can I deep-throat you? Please?”
“Course, baby…” He pursed his lips. He moaned as Desmond flopped his cock over his face, and Desmond teased his tongue along the underside of his veiny shaft. “C’mon, baby, make it wet…”
Desmond knew he was good at getting a man off. He could get any man off in minutes if he wanted to, which he did not. He swallowed his cock down to the root right away, making Officer Savillano’s whole huge body shudder and grunt.
He had a big dick. Desmond was glad because a lot of bodybuilder-types didn’t. They either started working out because they were self-conscious about their small cocks or else their dicks got smaller due to steroid use. But not Savillano. His muscles were entirely natural, his frame naturally hefty and inclined towards fatness — he prevented that by working out every day, jogging and lifting weights for hours. That was how he had met his wife, she was a personal trainer at his gym.
His dick was rock-hard now, throbbing in Desmond’s mouth. He gripped Desmond’s head and pushed his dick in and out of Desmond’s throat. It was a throating — which Desmond loved — but it was different, more affectionate than Desmond had expected. He would have assumed Savillano wanted aggressive, even violent head, but in fact he made sweet love to Desmond’s mouth.
He swayed his hips, clucking his tongue as he worked his dick in. Desmond focused on nothing but keeping his mouth wide open, letting his nose nuzzle into Officer Savillano’s wiry pubic hair. He experienced a flood of desire every time he felt Savillano’s cock pulsate in his throat, leaking torrent after torrent of salty precum down Desmond’s gullet. The taste was so bright and sunny, so thick and creamy, Desmond could tell Savillano had been starved of a woman’s touch for a long time.
“Oh, god, babe, you got such a nice mouth, babe, damn…” Savillano said. He clucked his tongue like he was being seductive and flirty with a girl.
Desmond gently massaged his balls. He figured this was one thing Savillano’s wife probably never did right — girls couldn’t do it so well because they didn’t have balls. Desmond knew how to make it feel good.
Sure enough, it made Savillano’s whole body shake. He grunted, and his muscles all tensed. He could have shot his load right then, but he didn’t. He pulled out of Desmond’s mouth, and his knob jabbed around on Desmond’s face. He chased it with his tongue.
“Lemme in ya ass, babe, okay?”
“Sure-“
“C’mon, I’ll be so gentle… It won’t be like last time, baby, I’ll go real slow and nice-like…” He bent down and kissed Desmond on the forehead. He cooed and moaned like he needed to seduce Desmond into doing it.
“You don’t have to be gentle-“
“Shush.” Savillano’s seductive voice was gone. “Don’t talk like a slut, man.”
“Oh, sorry.” Desmond had to put himself in the mindset of a woman. “I don’t know, big boy, what if it hurts? You could tear my ass up…”
“I won’t… I’ll make you feel so good, babe.” He kissed Desmond on the lips, seemingly uncaring of the taste of his own cock there. His tongue again explored Desmond’s mouth. Desmond wrapped his arms around those broad shoulders, and mounted his chest with his arms and legs. Officer Savillano held him aloft.
Desmond stood and gripped the shelves on the side of the closet. He stuck his ass out. The fact that it was dark in here helped it go more smoothly — Officer Savillano assumed that whatever Desmond was doing in the dark was what his ex-wife would have been doing, that Desmond was shimmying like she used to and moaning for more like she did. He grunted affirmatively like Desmond was doing it right, even though all Desmond did was turn around and grip the shelves.
His hairy chest pressed against Desmond’s back, his pants around his ankles. He squeezed his dick between Desmond’s cheeks. It was hot and thick and moist and throbbing like it was its own living being, and it was so fat it didn’t even fit between Desmond’s buttcheeks much less in his hole.
“Stick it in me, big boy…” Desmond said. He opened his ass the best he could. “C’mon, I need your cock, big boy…”
“I love you.” He grunted and slammed his dick in. A part of his mind was embarrassed because he hadn’t meant to say that, but it was overcome by the part of his mind that just wanted to ram Desmond’s tight hole. All he cared about in that moment was getting his dick in there.
Pain erupted in Desmond’s ass. He moaned, his whole body tensing at first. The agony lasted only a few seconds, however, before it melted away, replaced by an intense, overwhelming pleasure. His moan turned into a closet-shaking cringe of desire.
“Shush, it’s okay, baby, I love you, I love you, I’ll never hurt you…” Officer Savillano said. He again sounded like he was on the verge of tears, and he kissed the back of Desmond’s head. “Here, baby, you can bite me.” He wrapped one arm in front of Desmond’s face, giving Desmond perfect access to bite on the muscle of his forearm.
Desmond didn’t want to bite down though. He just nuzzled it, licking and jerking all the sweat off the surface of Savillano’s forearm. The sensations in his ass grew as Savillano worked his dick in deeper and deeper.
“Oh god, yes, ram me, big boy, ram me harder!”
Savillano grunted and grinned. “Hell yeah I will. You ready?”
“Yes!”
“Shush, don’t be so loud. Them kitchen folks could hear,” Savillano said. He kissed Desmond on the cheek and slammed his dick in. He pulled it out, grimacing and shushing Desmond as he did, then pistoned his powerful hips again.
Desmond slammed against the shelves, which shook, making more noise than Desmond ever had. But Officer Savillano didn’t seem to notice. He rammed harder and harder, grunting more with each thrust of his hips.
Wrapping his hand around his own dick, Desmond reached orgasm as Savillano’s cock rammed into his prostate over and over. The waves of pleasure wracking his body made Desmond tremble like the shelves. Beneath the bliss was just a little pain, enough to make the pleasure even more intense.
But it was also enough to make it difficult for Desmond to stay still. He danced between his feet while he sprayed his load over the shelves. Savillano lifted him up as he rammed, picking Desmond off the floor, just a foot or so, enough to give Savillano complete control over his ass.
“Oh god, yes, do it to me, big boy!” Desmond couldn’t control himself anymore. He was off the floor now, supported entirely by Savillano’s muscles and his manhood. Desmond’s bright red face gasped as the most incredible orgasm of his life hit him hard. Officer Savillano kissed him again as he too climaxed, groaning, moaning into Desmond’s waiting mouth.
Cum flowed into his ass. It had been months since Savillano rammed — he hadn’t gone more than a week or two without sex since high school, so he shot a massive load. It kept coming, filling Desmond up and seeping into his flesh.
Since Desmond wasn’t supporting himself, all of that cum slipped right back out, making a big frothy mess as Savillano kept gyrating. Even as his cock limpened inside Desmond’s ass, Savillano continuing humping, groaning and grimacing as he did. He nibbled on Desmond’s nape, while his callused hands roamed over Desmond’s chest and belly. He even glancingly touched the sensitive tip of Desmond’s cock, reawakening Desmond’s orgasmic shudders and moans of delight.
“Ah, baby, yeah… take it…” He bit his lip. He kept on grinding his dick within Desmond’s ass, while spasms of post-orgasmic pleasure ran up his spine. He made a big frothy mess of all that cum, which bubbled out and soaked into his slacks.
“Shit…”
“Damn, you okay?” Officer Savillano grunted. He was exhausted, disappointed that it was over — he had an instinctual and emotional urge to take Desmond out with him to go on a date, take him to a movie and a fancy restaurant, then ram him again in a cheap motel room.
But he couldn’t do that. Of course.
“I’m perfect….” Desmond moaned. The pressure in his ass was too intense to say anything else.
Then Officer Savillano pulled his cock out. “So… like… we still cool, right? You was like… into that?”
“So into it.”
“Good. Maybe, y’know… Maybe…” Officer Savillano was nervous like a schoolboy. “Maybe, like, we could… you know…”
“Do it again?”
“If you want!”
“You just let me know when, baby.” Desmond said breathlessly. He pulled his own pants up.
Officer Savillano was about to do the same, then realized that all of his cum had spilled onto the pants and underwear that were around his ankles. He groaned. “Oh. Can you go to my locker and get my spare pants?”
“Sure, baby.” Desmond paused. He opened the door to leave, but then didn’t go just yet. “Can I kiss you again?”
Savillano paused and sighed. There was light in the closet now, which made it more difficult to pretend he was kissing his wife. He hadn’t intended to kiss Desmond at all, and he certainly hadn’t intended to say he loved him.
But he didn’t want to be a jerk, and he didn’t mind the kiss earlier. He could just close his eyes. So he planted his lips right on Desmond’s, and their tongues interlocked. Desmond squealed and jumped up, wrapping his legs around Savillano’s bare chest again. His skin was slick with sweat.
Finally Desmond pulled away. “Thanks, big boy. I’ll be right back with clothes for you.”

The Janitor

Desmond is bored at an art museum when he spies a surly janitor with an alluring physique… setting Desmond off on another round of alpha male rough trade!

Read it now as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Desmond was in an art museum, devoted to antiquities, because there was a doe-eyed docent he was interested in. The museum was deserted though. There was probably more foot traffic in the tombs and burial sites the objets d’art here were looted from. There were a few Roman and Greek statues brought from Europe, but otherwise it was mostly Native American pieces from throughout the American Southwest and Mexico. Necklaces, arrows and bows, strips of leather used for something or another, plus an array of glittering gold Aztec sculptures.
Some of it was rather interesting. Desmond stood for a long time reading about the ancient Mesoamerican ball game in which the losing team was executed. The painting that depicted the game was lifelike, and really made Desmond feel like he was back there. What would it have been like to live in a culture that valued human life so lowly? Or was it even a low value? Maybe it was more of a matter of them valuing the ball game so highly instead. What other aspects of their culture did this attitude affect without leaving an archaeological trace? Did women race to weave clothing with the slowest among them executed? Did people commit suicide when they lost other games?
One of the Aztec men illustrated playing the ball game was so handsome it made Desmond think about the sturdy yet slender docent he had come here in search of. Desmond wasn’t really into Aztec men, just this one illustration.
“Oh, indeed, this is a beautiful piece,” said a woman, who peered closely at a crudely carved woman. Her voice startled Desmond, nearly making him knock over the figurine she was looking at. “Isn’t it? Look at the form. The form. Indeed, the mastery thereof.” She glanced at her companions, a group of other females and one male whose sexual interest in her was apparent.
“Yeah. The mastery. It’s… uh… gorgeous.”
“Oh, yeah, that is a beautiful piece. It really speak to the essence of soul itself.”
“Good point,” said the classy, elegant woman, whom Desmond already hated. She gestured grandly to another objet: a human-like shape etched onto a rock. “Oh isn’t this lovely! The Aztecs were such an impressionistic people!”
Desmond couldn’t take any more of that kind of pretentious nonsense, so he hurried away. It was probably just a child playing with a sharpened rock, he thought, that etching didn’t look like a completed piece of artwork. It wasn’t impressionistic, it was bad, he thought. He sighed. People were so annoying. Now he remembered why he didn’t like museums.
Only now the docent with a degree from Cornell, Rakwan, with the dimples and the lion tattoo on his neck, seemed to be gone. Desmond shrugged. Oh well, he thought, maybe I could get some rough trade while I’m here.
That made him chuckle. A museum was not a place for rough trade. The males here were betas, dorks and nerds. Desmond did not see the appeal. Looking for rough trade here would be like asking a McDonald’s cashier for the gourmet menu.
That white boy art enthusiast was cute, especially in how he flirted with that woman, but still, he was white and not handsome, and anyway, he was with a girl so he would not likely be willing to dip on the downlow with Desmond. None of the other males here were even remotely eligible. A lot of them were elderly, and the rest were skinny or fat nerds.
This trip seemed to have been a total bust, he thought. He turned around to head for the front door, nearly knocking over an elderly white man who hobbled away in a hurry.
Normally Desmond was polite, unfailingly so. But this particular old white man seemed unfazed by Desmond bumping into him for that first fraction of a second — then he swore, but only when he saw the color of Desmond’s skin.
“You piece-of-shit street trash,” said the old man, his voice creaky and tremulous. “Watch where you’re going, boy.”
The racial implications of the encounter were obvious to Desmond. But the old man’s voice was low, so no one heard him but Desmond. He scoffed. “Why don’t you watch yourself, you old coot,” Desmond said. “Don’t you tell me what to do! I can lay you out, old man!”
A few people heard Desmond raise his voice. He realized only too late that this wouldn’t work out for him — the old man seemed sympathetic, hadn’t said anything explicitly racist (and no one but Desmond heard him say anything at all) and Desmond had, in fact, bumped into him. The onlookers all glared at Desmond as though he had just stomped a puppy.
“Hey! You! Nigguh, you over there flouncin’ ‘bout like some princess in a tutu! You can’t talk like that!”
It was a middle-aged janitor. He had dark-brown skin and deep-set eyes, with a hefty, well-muscled body that still had plenty of meat to it — he was no sculpted gym rat. Desmond’s jaw dropped because he was so aroused.
The man’s name was Elmer, according to his nametag.
“It wasn’t like it seemed,” Desmond said, “That old man was racist-“
“Uh-huh, save it for the security guards,” Elmer said. He shoved Desmond towards a service hallway. The old man smirked and the crowd gasped all together. Desmond rolled his eyes but didn’t fight back. Elmer snarled and growled. “You can’t be disruptive here, boi. We ain’t got no time for yo’ princess nonsense.”
Desmond went with him, his mind already reeling at the possibilities. He wanted Elmer. He needed him. Elmer was close enough that Desmond could smell the cleaning solutions that clung to his clothes. The most overwhelming odor was bleach, which looked to have been splashed on Elmer’s workpants, covered in faded spots especially near the ankles. He had a gloriously thick body like he used to be a bodybuilder, and he still brimmed with power. A few twinges of gray in his hair were enough to make Desmond’s dick so hard he struggled to walk until he rearranged himself in his pants.
“I don’t have to go with you,” Desmond said. He wanted to take control of this situation, and he knew his rights.
“Then you can get outta my museum,” Elmer said. “I ain’t lettin’ you talk to no old white man like that, nigguh. That ain’t proper. Some flouncin’ little sissy like you… This is a nice museum, for nice folk.”
Desmond had to giggle. He clutched Elmer’s well-muscled arm as though being escorted to a cotillion.
“Let go.”
“Ain’t you gotta escort me to my fate?” Desmond asked with exaggerated melodrama, like he was about to faint and needed to lean on Elmer for support.
“You can walk yaself,” Elmer said.
“But I won’t,” Desmond said. They passed a door labeled ‘Supply Closet’, so Desmond stopped walking right there. He opened the door. “What’s in here?”
“Just some cleanin’ shit, boi,” Elmer said. “C’mon, security office is down there.”
“What I’m going to do,” Desmond said. He placed one finger on Elmer’s chest. “is go in there. You’re going to follow me. I’m going to get on my knees. I’m going to pull your pants down, and I’m going to jerk you off. Then you’re going to ram me in the ass. You can blow the world’s biggest load in me, or on me, or in whatever manner suits your fancy. We’ll be real quick, and real quiet, and no one will ever know you did it.”
“If you think I’m some kinda pervert, you are one crazy-!”
“You didn’t let me finish. The last step would be when I put one hundred and nine dollars in your pocket,” Desmond said. He was a little disappointed because he had hoped Elmer would do it for free. But he didn’t mind paying. “That’s what I’m going to do. You don’t need to give any feedback on that plan. Just go along with it. Or don’t. If you don’t follow me into the closet, I will be so disappointed. But I’ll move on. Maybe I’ll find some white dick. I wonder what Vanilla Ice is up to these days…”
Elmer furrowed his brow. He opened his mouth but he didn’t say anything. Desmond took that for a yes. He went into the supply closet. There was just barely enough room in there for him to mess with a thick man like Elmer. That was fine with Desmond, who liked the idea of being in a cramped space with him.
Dropping to his knees, Desmond opened his mouth. He could tell Elmer wanted to do this, but yet he still stood there in the doorway. He looked back and forth down the hallway. Desmond just kneeled with his mouth open. He could see the bulge in Elmer’s workpants.
“This ain’t allowed, don’t you think I’m some kinda pervert,” Elmer said. “I don’t got a habit of gettin’ jerked off by sissies in closets. Nosir, I don’t do that.”
He took one step towards the closet as though going to come in, then changed his mind and slammed the door shut with Desmond in and Elmer outside. Desmond was there in the dark by himself, mouth wide open.
Desmond was disappointed, he had really thought this was going to work; older black men like Elmer were usually game, when he could get them alone. Was this a no?
Then Desmond heard the footsteps of someone walking down the hall. Elmer was trying to look inconspicuous.
“G’evenin’, Mr. Moskowitz,” Elmer said outside the closet. His voice was deep and raspy, with the more sonorous tones blocked by the shut door. All Desmond heard was the throaty, gravelly part of his voice. “I’s moppin’ that west hallway like you said, suh, real good, uh-huh.”
Mr. Moskowitz responded, but Desmond didn’t hear what he said; it sounded polite and encouraging, but patronizing. Desmond suspected that Mr. Moskowitz didn’t remember who Elmer was.
The door opened a few seconds later and Elmer strode in. “Fuckin’ asshole, I oughta lay that mothafucka out,” he muttered as Mr. Moskowitz’s footsteps could be heard walking away.
The smell of cleaning solutions was even more intense here, joined by the musky mud-scent of the mop-bucket and the soapy deodorant Elmer wore. Desmond recognized the hair pomade that Elmer used too, because Desmond’s grandfather had worn it. That made Desmond giggle. Where did Elmer even get pomade like that?
The closet had a single bare lightbulb in it, that cast everything in shadows but still provided enough illumination to see. Desmond reached up to tweak Elmer’s nipples through his clothes, but Elmer snarled and slapped his hand away.
“No messin’ around, just get to it,” Elmer said. “I ain’t here to seduce you, nosir.” He paused. “And you definitely ain’t here to seduce me, don’t even think ‘bout that. Nosir. I am strictly a top, boy, fo’ real, don’t even think ‘bout talkin’ me out of it.”
“I won’t-“
“I will lay you out, and don’t think I won’t,” Elmer said. Despite his threats, he came across as a crotchety old man more than a violent thug. He made Desmond smile more the more serious he acted, which only made Elmer more angry. “Quit ya laughin’, boi, this ain’t a Richard Pryor show. Ain’t no one makin’ ya laugh here.”
Elmer dropped his bleach-splattered pants as he ranted. He wore briefs — not many of Desmond’s conquests wore tighty-whities anymore. Desmond moaned in desire because he could see that massive mature cock already twitching beneath the threadbare white fabric.
His tongue planted on it without removing Elmer’s underwear. Elmer grunted like he didn’t approve, but he didn’t stop Desmond. Desmond licked his dick through his underwear until it was so soaked it was virtually translucent.
“You getting serious, huh? Lickin’ me through my drawers, that’s nasty. That’s real nasty, boi. You must be all kinda ashamed, yessir,” Elmer said.
Elmer’s dick was wet already, hard and leaking precum even before he had dropped his briefs. Finally Desmond pulled them down, his cock popped out and Desmond swallowed it to the root. Elmer closed his eyes and grunted to conceal a moan that he worried would sound loving — he didn’t want to give this man any kind of wrong impression.
“Finally. I swear, you sissies is always playin’ ‘round and shit, not takin’ nothin’ serious.” He murmured like he didn’t really expect Desmond to listen. “Talkin’ mean to some old white man, you ingrate-“
Desmond pulled off his dick, which was just beginning to get hard. “Look, I swear, that man was blatantly racist. He only got mad when he saw that I was black, and I know-“
“He call you a nigger?”
“No-“
“Then shut ya face. You ain’t encounter real racism, nigguh,” Elmer said. He frowned, which looked like a natural face for him — Desmond strongly suspected Elmer was always bitterly frowning. Elmer slapped him with his cock a few times. “Quit playin’ wit’ it!”
He rammed it into Desmond’s mouth. But Desmond wanted to frustrate him and make him play with his cock. Elmer wanted to just lean back and let Desmond service him. But Desmond kept teasing him until he took the initiative to spread Desmond’s cheeks and drill into his throat.
He growled. Young people, Elmer thought, never took anything seriously, not even dicks. He had to grip Desmond’s face with one hand and his scalp with the other. He held on to Desmond’s hair tightly, giving himself adequate leverage to pound away at Desmond’s throat.
His balls slapped against Desmond’s chin, and Desmond opened his throat as much as he could to allow it. He clasped Elmer’s thick cheeks as he got throated down.
“Ah, shit…” Girls rarely deep-throated Elmer, and they never let him throat them like this — not anymore, and rarely even when he was young and handsome. Elmer could tell that Desmond not only loved it, he enjoyed the occasional gag and choke, the sputtering, the spit that built up in his mouth and dripped onto the concrete floor of the closet with every thrust of Elmer’s hips. His flat belly smacked Desmond’s nose, pubic hair scratching at his lips.
When Desmond felt Elmer’s balls about to crawl up in his sac, he pulled his face away. He had to swat Elmer’s hands from his cheeks too, or he would have kept plowing into his throat and cum without noticing. Elmer chased his mouth with his dick until he realized that Desmond had stopped.
But Desmond pushed him off and giggled when Elmer roared in frustration. “Whatchoo doin’, nigguh? Keep goin’! C’mon, where you goin’?” He kept humping even though Desmond’s mouth was nowhere’s near his cock, like his crotch was on auto-pilot, now just humping the air.
“I said I wanted to get rammed in the ass too,” Desmond said. “You better get started before you blow your wad.” He gripped the door to the supply closet for support. He jutted his ass high in the air.
“Man, nigguh, I was all up in ya mouth-“
“I’m paying for this, and I said I wanted anal,” Desmond said. He turned around and shook his ass in Elmer’s direction. He backed up and rubbed his asscrack over Elmer’s cock.
“Oh? You want it in the butt, huh?” Elmer said with a frustrated snarl. He grabbed Desmond by the back of the neck and held on as he slammed his cock right in. He spread Desmond’s asscheeks. Elmer bit his lip and sank in deeply, all in one smooth motion.
The pain was extraordinary at first. Elmer made no effort to be easy on Desmond. He penetrated him with so much force Desmond’s head banged against the door. A girl, Elmer thought, would have never let him do all that, but Desmond cringed and moaned like he liked it.
The pain was potent, but brief, and Desmond cried out with pleasure. “Damn…” Desmond gritted his teeth, and Elmer gripped his asscheeks.
“Open up that ass, nigguh.” Elmer smacked his back until Desmond did as he was told. Desmond managed to relax his ass, and the rest of Elmer’s thick shaft jammed into his asshole. His flat belly smacked against Desmond’s cheeks. Elmer used his weight to force his dick in deeper and deeper, until at last every inch throbbed within Desmond’s asshole.
“Ah, ow, shit!” Desmond bit his lip. He cried out again, fists pounding on the door. If anyone was out in the service corridor now, they’d definitely hear what was happening, and Desmond didn’t think he had the wherewithal to reduce it.
“No noise, boi,” Elmer said, though he was just as loud as Desmond. He used one callused hand to hold both of Desmond’s delicate wrists in place. That meant Desmond was unable to support himself at all. He leaned forward, with Elmer ramming him from behind, supported entirely by Elmer’s powerful arms and his thick dick in Desmond’s ass.
So he rammed Desmond harder and rougher than he would have ever fucked a woman. He rammed until his balls slapped loudly against Desmond’s ass. He kept thinking sooner or later, Desmond would tell him to stop or slow down, but that never happened.
When Desmond didn’t complain, Elmer even grabbed Desmond’s hair and held on that way. He sighed and moaned. No woman let him do that anymore. They disliked it when he pulled their hair and even choked them a little.
“Come on, boi…” Elmer’s voice was still harsh and guttural, but now with a smoothly seductive tone to it that made Desmond shudder. Desmond felt like his own cock was going to explode. He lost himself in Elmer’s thick chest.
He put Desmond in a chokehold, not real tight, just enough to make him squeal and clench around Elmer’s dick. Elmer loved having total control over Desmond’s tight feminine frame. In the darkness of the supply closet, Elmer thought, the only thing separating Desmond’s ass from a woman’s was that Desmond didn’t complain when Elmer slammed into him with all his might.
That’s because Desmond loved it. Desmond tightened his fingers into claws that dug at Elmer’s forearm, which were firm like iron beneath the flesh padding of his age. Elmer didn’t notice, he was too busy experiencing an orgasm more intense than anything he’d felt in twenty years.
“Shit, boi, you take it good… You feel me inside ya, huh? Say it-“
“I feel you inside me…” Desmond’s voice was weak and tinny, almost plaintive.
Elmer’s voice was deep and scratchy, resonant in the cramped closet. “Say my name, boi.”
“Elmer… Ram me, Elmer! Ram me hard!” Desmond said as loud as he could.
For just a moment, Elmer didn’t feel his sore knees or the ever-present exhaustion or his worry about his blood sugar. All that mattered was getting every inch of dickmeat in the squirming man’s tight hole and making him beg for more.
They both went to the ground, landing with a loud crash that shattered a box of lightbulbs on the floor. Elmer felt himself kissing Desmond on the lips even as he told himself he wouldn’t do that. Cum flew in ribbons into Desmond’s ass. Desmond cried out in shock as Elmer’s tongue entered his mouth.
A the last few jets of cum filled Desmond’s ass, Elmer grunted into his ear. “No kissin’, boi, I oughtta smack you for that.” He squeezed on Desmond’s neck a little more to remind him who was boss. He didn’t even stop kissing as he told Desmond to quit it.
Desmond gasped. He was dizzy and delirious. He leaned his head back, kissing Elmer on the scruff of his neck. Elmer grumbled but allowed it, still lightly humping his limpening dick in and out of Desmond’s ass. Their tongues slathered spit along each other’s cheeks and lips. “No more kissin’, boi, quit that. I ain’t ya boyfriend, I’m ya daddy.”
“Ram me, daddy!” Desmond shouted. He loved the daddy look, and he liked how acting like a slutty female seemed to make Elmer treat him like one. Elmer ground his dick within Desmond’s ass, making sweet love to his prostate as he kissed every inch of Desmond’s face.
It was only polite to give a reacharound, Elmer thought, his mind working too fast for him to censor his own thoughts. That was another thing he had “forgotten” — or preferred to pretend hadn’t happened — from his youth. It felt so natural now he didn’t even think about it.
As the last vestiges of his climax roiled his veins, Elmer reached around Desmond’s body to his cock. He grimaced a little at the feel of it throbbing beneath his grasp but he stroked anyway.
Now he remembered why he liked it. “C’mon, nigguh, cum, blow ya nut.” His coarse voice was aimed directly into Desmond’s ear. Elmer had gotten in the habit of stroking his bottoms off after he came because it made them stay on his dick until it was totally soft, and when they orgasmed, they clenched down tight on it all over again.
Cum sprayed into Desmond’s ass, more than Desmond thought possible. He moaned as it filled him up, but it kept going until Desmond couldn’t moan anymore. Even then, Elmer’s body — perfectly still, muscles taut — kept shooting, wad after wad of creamy cum seeping into Desmond’s flesh.
So much semen filled him up that it dripped out and down his thighs, and Desmond thought he could taste it. It had coated his insides like he had become one with Elmer’s cock, which still shot the last few drops of cum from his low-hanging balls.
“Hmmm…” Desmond’s feminine, lilting voice filled the tiny closet. Since Elmer’s handjob was rather awkward and difficult to accept, continuing as it did throughout Elmer’s orgasm, Desmond didn’t cum as quickly as he might have. That wasn’t a bad thing from his perspective. It gave him even more opportunities to grind his ass back on Elmer’s now soft dick, making a moist dripping sound like a clogged drain as more cum splashed out and over Elmer’s low-hanging balls.
“You seduced me, boi, that ain’t right. I don’t give men handjobs,” Elmer said, his throaty voice making Desmond’s spine shudder. “That ain’t a thing I do. I oughta kick ya ass for that.”
Elmer wanted to keep talking, maybe even hit Desmond a few times — not real hard, just enough to be sure Desmond wouldn’t try to be his boyfriend. But when Desmond orgasmed, his asshole clenched just as Elmer had expected. It was like a second orgasm for Elmer; it reawakened all of those sensations that had just passed. His dick twitched and Desmond spasmed.
A massive load sprayed over the floor and Elmer’s hand — he hadn’t stopped the reacharound even as he demanded Desmond do so. Elmer kept stroking, ignoring the cum that coated his fingers.
Elmer grunted. Then, at last, he couldn’t take any more. He let go. Desmond nearly toppled to the ground, and Elmer’s cock plopped meatily out of his hole.
“Goddamn…” Desmond said with a moan.
“No blasphemin’,” Elmer said out of pure instinct — he didn’t allow young black men to blaspheme in front of him. That made Desmond giggle a little as he rubbed his face over Elmer’s powerful chest. Elmer used a paper towel to wipe his dick clean, ignoring Desmond’s groping hands.
“Hmm… Thanks for that,” Desmond said. He pulled his wallet out of his pants and handed over the money to him. It was all of the cash he had in his wallet.
Elmer nodded. “Don’t you think I’m some kinda street whore. I ain’t poor. I ain’t some fuckin’ hobo or some shit,” he said. He frowned as he let Desmond play with his heavy meat. When he had enough, he swiped it away. “You gotta pay more if you wanna keep playin’.”
Desmond clucked his tongue. “I think I’m done,” he said. “Thanks for that. I had a good time. This is a great museum,” He managed to kiss Elmer’s bicep once more before Elmer shoved him away.
“Get outta here, sissy. You got some dick, you done for the day. Ain’t no old white man in here for you to cuss at.”
Desmond sighed. “I ain’t cuss out some old — I-” He stopped himself. Why argue about this? It didn’t matter. “Nevermind, Elmer.” Desmond opened the door and winced at the bright light in the hall. He headed out into the deserted corridor.
“Go’n, boi, don’t come back neither. If you wanna taste my dick again, hang out in the alley behind the Canal Street Bar,” Elmer said. “I usually piss drunk in the alley before I go home. Maybe I let you take another taste.”

The Annapolis Alpha

Abdul’s latest IT job brings him onto a naval base, where the hunky older officer Chumbers corners him in a closet with an urgent need for a little twink on top!

SIR YES SIR!

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Abdul was nervous when he got to work on the base at Annapolis. He had two reasons to be nervous, though luckily he hoped the second might counteract the first — he was a brown-skinned Muslim named Abdul, and he knew a lot of American military folk were skeptical of Muslims. So he was worried about anti-Muslim harassment and xenophobia. Counteracting that, Abdul was a slim nerd of Turkish extraction, and while he normally had only a slight lisp and a bit of limp wrist, he accentuated both right now. His glasses and dorky demeanor probably helped too, and he was sure to make a Star Trek joke as he checked in with the secretary. Hopefully that made him seem less like a terrorist.
Indeed, everyone on the base ended up being extraordinarily kind and helpful. That was no doubt in part because they desperately needed his help. The wireless router in one building had been broken for weeks, and no one with the Navy was able to fix it.
Fixing stuff like that was Abdul’s job. He could fix anything, as long as it was a computer.
The secretary was a perky young man who looked about twelve years old, but he was in the Navy, so presumably he was older than that. He had no idea what a router was, where it might be or who would know about the wifi. He was the most useless secretary in the history of the Navy.
But he did manage to make a call, to a Captain Chumbers, who must have told him where to go. He then showed Abdul the closet with the routers in.
He got to work, glad when that babyface sailor left him alone. Abdul had been unsure that would be allowed. Maybe, after all, they would require a security minder to be present.
Honestly, they ought to. Did the Navy know they had some random fiddling with their wifi? Abdul could have installed a bug. He didn’t bring that up because he didn’t want to tempt fate.
First of all, the permissions were all messed up. Abdul had to get into the mainframe to open up the router, and that alone took a whole hour. He had to go find that useless secretary to get the password, and then he had to explain what a password was, and then he had to wait for the password. It took forever. The Navy have a real problem with efficiency.
Eventually though, he fixed the permissions issue, and he got down into the nitty-gritty of the broken wifi.
“Do you know what’s wrong?” asked a deep man’s voice, startling Abdul.
Abdul was nearly done fixing it, but he didn’t want to say that because there might end up being more work to be done, and then he’d look like he failed. In fact, he suspected that the Navy’s own IT folk had been messing with it while they tried to fix it, and they might have broken it even worse. “I think a few things are wrong with it,” Abdul said without turning to look at the man behind him. He forced his voice to deepen as he became self-conscious about his nerdiness. “I’m about to finish fixing the main thing. That was probably the initial problem. But these issues have a way of snowballing and causing more problems as time goes on, so I’ll need another couple hours.”
It was only as he finished speaking that Abdul looked up and saw that he was not speaking to that secretary or the cadets he had met earlier. This was clearly someone in charge — he was tall, stately, broad-shouldered and stiff-necked. He had a square jaw and pale skin, with a few colorful tattoos peeking out from under his uniform. He had such an authoritarian demeanor that Abdul jumped up and saluted as soon as he made eye contact.
The officer smiled. “At ease… sailor?”
Abdul blushed and looked down. “Sorry. I guess I watch too many movies.”
“That’s fine. My name is Captain Chumbers,” he said with a throaty chuckle. He cocked his head to the side as though considering Abdul. “You are… uh… I’m sorry, I’m not sure the politically correct way to ask this, you’re-“
“I’m Turkish,” Abdul said. “And I’m Muslim. But don’t worry, this doesn’t actually give me access to the secure server, I don’t have access to any classified information.”
“There’s nothing to speak of on this network anyway,” he said. “All you’d find out is what we’re having for lunch this week.”
“Is it pork?”
Captain Chumbers chuckled. “No, we don’t serve pork, or beef. We have Muslim and Hindu seamen,” he said. Despite the gravity of the situation, when he said seamen, Abdul had to stifle a laugh.
“Cool. Okay,” Abdul said.
“Oh.” It was apparent he wanted to ask for more, but didn’t think he should, so he shut up. He shifted his weight on his feet. “I’m sorry, I’m distracting you from your job.”
“No, it’s okay. This next part needs to run on its own. It should take like a half-hour,” Abdul said. “Did you need this room? I can wait-“
“No, stay here,” Captain Chumbers said. He sidled in and closed the door behind him. This was a small, cramped IT closet, with servers and computer gear scattered about on rickety old shelves. Captain Chumbers had an intent look on his face, like he had a very serious plan, and whatever it was, it made Abdul’s heart flutter.
“Okay…” Abdul’s eyes opened wide. He stammered over his words, though he had nothing to say. What was Chumbers’s plan?
“My wife just gave birth,” Captain Chumbers said.
“Congratulations. Is that your first child?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, awesome,” Abdul said. This was such an awkward situation he wasn’t sure how to muster up any enthusiasm. He blushed. It seemed that Captain Chumbers wanted something, but Abdul didn’t know what. “That’s really great. Cool. It’s cool to be a dad.”
“She lives in Georgia. That’s where I’s from,” he said. He had only a trace of an accent, but now that Abdul knew it was there, he couldn’t unhear the drawl dripping broadly from his voice.
“Oh. I’ve never been to Georgia. It’s… uh, it’s hot there, right?-” Abdul gulped. This closet was feeling more and more cramped with every passing moment.
“I haven’t seen her in almost a year. We talk on the phone, but it’s not the same.”
“Yeah, I understand. That’s tough.”
“I haven’t seen any women in almost a year.”
“Really?”
“I mean… not literally,” Captain Chumbers said. “I’ve seen women, of course. But I haven’t been with one or even flirted with one.”
“Oh, yeah, that must be difficult-“
“When I was a cadet…” His voice trailed off. “Officers were allowed to order cadets to do pretty much anything. On my first day, my commander ordered me to bend over and grab my ankles. You can guess where it went from there.”
“Yeah-“
“But that isn’t allowed anymore. Cussing is ‘gainst the rules now,” Captain Chumbers said with a dismissive scoff. He came closer to Abdul.
“Hmm-hmm.”
“I’m going to order you to do something in a moment,” he said. He frowned and blushed, averting his eyes, appearing nervous for the first time since he had come in this room. “I’m gonna make it seem like you have to do it. But you don’t. I just… I don’t want to have a conversation about it.”
“Okay…”
“I’ve been giving and receiving orders for so long, it’s hard for me to interact normally,” he said. “If you say no, or walk away, that’s fine. I won’t stop you.”
“Captain Chumbers, what are you doing? What is this?”
“Take off my clothes, sailor,” he said. His voice was soft and weak, so Abdul at first thought he had misheard.
“Sir?”
“I said take off my clothes, sailor!” he barked with the stentorian tone of a drill sergeant who expected utter obedience.
Obedience was something Abdul could provide. He jumped to his feet before he even thought about it. It was difficult to disobey someone like that. He stood there for a moment, calculating his options. Of course the idea of servicing some studly navy officer was alluring to Abdul, who did appreciate the male form and physique, but was that what was really happening here?
His pristine white uniform was tight, a little too small for him, and it was stiff, starched. The fabric was firmer than Abdul had expected. His heart raced as he fumbled with the buttons. He had never taken off a navy officer’s uniform before.
“Quicker, sailor!”
“Sir, yes, sir,” Abdul said. His voice trembled and broke. He blushed. Why was he calling him sir? He didn’t need to. Chumbers simply exuded such authority that Abdul felt no choice but to show him the respect of an underling.
This was probably how that babyfaced secretary reacted when Chumbers gave him an order, Abdul thought.
Underneath that uniform shirt, Chumbers wore a plain white t-shirt, bleached white, presumably by some sailor who worked in the laundry. It was also perfectly clean. His colorful tattoos were more visible now that only the t-shirt separated them from — there was a fight scene between two knights on horseback on his left bicep, and a tractor on his right. An American flag waved in the wind over his heart, the vibrant colors visible through his t-shirt. He had a broad, muscular chest with a few tufts of hair on it. Abdul gulped.
Abdul tried to take off that t-shirt, but Captain Chumbers was so much taller than him that he couldn’t do much more than lift it up to his shoulders. That put Abdul’s fingers beneath the fabric, however, and he shivered with anticipation as he brushed past those powerful pecs, which flexed beneath his touch. Chumbers’s was broad and muscular, and it exuded warmth that enveloped Abdul.
“I can’t lift your shirt all the way up.”
“If’n you don’t address your superior officer smartly, I swear I’ll rip ya dick off, sailor!”
“Uh… Sir! I can’t lift your t-shirt up all the way, sir! You’re too tall, sir! Or… I’m too short. Sir.”
“Then you might have to put me on my knees, sailor!” he said. He still stood straight as an arrow, at attention, with his hands clenched into fists as though he was going to beat Abdul any moment.
“Uh… Okay. Sir,” Abdul said. He had to stand on his toes to reach Captain Chumbers’s shoulders, then he gently pushed down. He had no leverage, and even if he had, Captain Chumbers outweighed Abdul by at least a hundred pounds of solid muscle. So he did not, in any meaningful sense, push him down.
But nevertheless, Captain Chumbers sunk to his knees as though being forced. His torso remained straight, and his skin puckered as Abdul lifted his t-shirt up. Captain Chumbers raised his arms so Abdul could pull the shirt up and over his head, then lowered them again now that his chest was bare.
Abdul hesitated, not sure what to do next. But Captain Chumbers had said to take off his clothes, not just his shirt, so Abdul did as he was told. He undid Captain Chumbers’s belt and pulled those pure white dress uniform pants down. Since he was on his knees, they didn’t go all the way down, but they did reveal his unfashionable white briefs, which were tight, clean and hugged his plump ass. Kinky black hairs escaped from the elastic waistband.
“Take your dick out, sailor!”
Again Abdul was so nervous he didn’t follow orders right away. This was rather looking like Captain Chumbers intended to bottom — that would explain why he was on his knees and why he demanded Abdul take his own dick out rather than taking Captain Chumbers’s out. But that hardly made any sense. Surely, Abdul thought, a big macho Navy captain like him was a top, if he was willing to jack off with a man at all.
Maybe that was why he mentioned his wife being so far away? Abdul’s heart quickened its beat.
“I said-” He paused because some sailors walked past the closet. Once they were safely out of earshot, he narrowed his eyes in Abdul’s direction. “I said take your cock out now, sailor!” Chumbers barked.
Abdul gulped and did as he was told. He dropped his pants and pulled his dick out of his boxers. His crotch was sweaty because this tiny room was hot, a problem that was worsened by all the heat from the computer equipment in here. It was like a hamam.
“Now, grab my head and put it in position, sailor,” he said. Captain Chumbers still stared straight ahead, his face solid and emotionless. His grizzled jaw worked as though he chewed on his tongue.
“Which, uh… position-?”
“Now!”
Just as before, his tone was so strict Abdul jumped into action instinctually. The only logical position was to force Captain Chumbers’s head low enough that he could swallow Abdul’s dick. Nothing else made sense, even if that also didn’t really make sense given the situation. But Abdul hurried to follow orders, and once again, Captain Chumbers did as he was “forced” to do. His upper body awkwardly stooped over so that his face was right in front of Abdul’s dick, which was half-hard even though neither of them had touched it yet.
The situation was so arousing that Abdul’s cocked jerked, resulting in it brushing against Captain Chumbers’s lips. He gagged lightly and winced.
“Sorry.”
“Sailor, what did I say about addressing me as sir.”
“Sorry, sir. I, uh… I should have said… Sorry, sir,” Abdul said. “I mean, I’m sorry I didn’t say sir when I said sorry, sir. I mean, I said sorry, but not sir, and now… I’m sorry, sir. I-” He cut himself off because he realized he was babbling and thought he looked like an idiot.
“Open my mouth,” he said. “Use your hands to open my mouth, sailor!”
“Oh… what? Are you sure? Sir?” Abdul asked. His voice stammered, certain he had misheard the command. Was this man really going to bottom? In Turkish culture, a man was either a top or a bottom, strictly, no exceptions.
“Jacking off wasn’t even allowed in this navy until recently, sailor,” Chumbers said. “You are going to have to force my mouth open, sailor.”
Abdul’s mind raced. He flopped his dick against Captain Chumbers’s lips, which were pursed shut tightly. Again Captain Chumbers winced as though he found it disgusting, like Abdul’s dick was gonna make him gag. Abdul gripped his jaw to spread his mouth open.
His fingers seemed so small in comparison to Captain Chumbers’s big head and thick jaw. His cheeks and chin were shaved smooth but Abdul could already feel a bit of the day’s stubble growing in. He gently pulled Captain Chumbers’s jaws apart.
Despite being forced, it was apparent that Captain Chumbers didn’t resist. When Abdul just exerted a bit of pressure on his jaw, Captain Chumbers opened wide, though Abdul did feel tension, like he had to fight against himself to do it.
“Now throat me down!” Captain Chumbers said — he had to close his mouth to talk, then opened it again — and he growled at Abdul. “Do it hard and merciless, sailor.”
Abdul’s heart raced, but he didn’t need to be ordered twice. He wedged his dick in and gasped as Captain Chumbers accepted it. He was a big man, so he had a big mouth, and he easily got most of Abdul’s dick in before it reached the back of his throat. Then he gagged, but didn’t stop.
Abdul sighed as pleasure overtook him. His dick was rock-hard now, throbbing in Captain Chumbers’s throat. His fingers held onto his nearly bare head, and Abdul began slowly, gently plowing his mouth, his erection hitting the back of Chumbers’s throat.
That caused Abdul to just stand there. He didn’t want to throat Chumbers down if that wasn’t what he was supposed to do. He figured Chumbers would just do whatever his plan was. If he wanted to deep-throat Abdul, he could do that anytime.
But Captain Chumbers was having none of that — he put his hands behind Abdul’s body, clutching his smooth twink asscheeks, and forcibly made him drill his dick deep into Captain Chumbers’s throat.
It was such an arousing situation that Abdul thought he might blow his load within seconds. That would have been disappointing; he wanted to savor this. But he couldn’t do much to stop himself. He gasped as he plowed Captain Chumbers’s face, balls slapping against his chin. Captain Chumbers choked with every thrust.
His ass was visible, hugged by those tight briefs, down below — since he was stooped way over to swallow Abdul’s dick, his ass jutted out behind him. His big body filled up the small IT closet.
Captain Chumbers pulled away. He still stared straight ahead, looking at the saliva dripping from Abdul’s uncut cock. “Can you reach my ass from there, sailor?!”
“Uh…” Abdul strained to reach forward, pushing his cock and balls against Captain Chumbers’s face. His dickskin was so sensitive he could easily feel that day’s stubble scratching against his flesh. He shuddered as he smeared precum all over Captain Chumbers’s nose and cheeks. His hand barely reached his ass. “Sort of, sir.”
“Well, you better find a way to get your finger in my ass, sailor, or I’ll dish out a big barrel full of serious trubs!” Captain Chumbers barked, his voice muffled by Abdul’s cock. He reopened his mouth and swallowed Abdul’s dick. He also raised his hips as far as he could, which put his ass within reach. Abdul didn’t know what trubs meant, but he assumed it was some American idiom, and he got the gist of it.
Abdul slipped his hand under those tight white briefs, shuddering with desire as he felt Chumbers’s powerful asscheeks clench. Abdul stroked his sweaty asscrack, then hesitated as his finger massaged the rim of his asshole.
He didn’t need Captain Chumbers to order him onto the next step. Abdul could tell what he was about to say. He plunged his finger in, which made Captain Chumbers arch his back. He gurgled around Abdul’s dick, and saliva dribbled out past his lips. Chumbers grunted as his face turned ruddy.
Since he had to stretch to reach his asshole at all, Abdul couldn’t fit more than the tip of his middle finger in. But that was enough to loosen Captain Chumbers’s ass up. It clenched tightly but submitted to Abdul’s fingering.
He pulled off and looked up at Abdul with stern eyes, the first time he had made direct eye contact since this began. He didn’t need to bark his order this time before Abdul guessed what it was, but Abdul did wait for him to say it.
“Now you got two seconds to get ya dick in my ass before I beat’choo senseless, sailor!”
“Yes, sir!” Abdul was wedged between him and the wall, so he had to awkwardly squeeze out of the way — Captain Chumbers didn’t move to make it easy for him. Abdul gripped Captain Chumbers’s back for support as he climbed around him.
It did take more than two seconds, but Abdul didn’t think he was actually timing it. Captain Chumbers’s asshole twinkled as Abdul rammed his cock in, rushing to get it in before Chumbers changed his mind.
For a moment, all was silence. Then Captain Chumbers grunted and moaned in a combination of pain and pleasure. He lifted his head up and gripped the wall tightly. Abdul had to stand on his toes while Captain Chumbers bent his knees to help him get in position.
“Ram me harder, sailor! Don’t think I won’t throw you overboard if you don’t!” he shouted at the wall through gritted teeth. It was obvious he was in pain, but from the rippling of his back muscles, it was obvious he experienced intense bliss as well. He was so much taller that Abdul’s head was pressed against the meaty center of Captain Chumbers’s back. He felt like a child riding his father, and he had never felt so small.
Plowing back and forth with as much power as he could muster, Abdul gripped Captain Chumbers’s sides for support. He humped his hips to pump his dick all the way in and out of Chumbers’s tight asshole, uncaring of Captain Chumbers’s instinctive clenching and grunting.
“Now, grab my dick, sailor!” he said, and then without even giving Abdul the chance to comply, he repeated himself. “Now! You don’t look like the kind of man who would be so rude as to cornhole a man without the common courtesy of a reacharound, are you? Are you that kind of man?”
“Uh, no sir,” Abdul said, his voice nervous and strained. He again had to struggle to reach, but this was easier than reaching his ass had been. As soon as he touched Captain Chumbers’s dick, it spasmed, spewing precum. He was obviously very near orgasm, despite the pain he was in.
He stroked, and the sensation was so exquisite that Captain Chumbers writhed. He gasped, and Abdul did too. His ass clenched on Abdul’s dick as though going to squeeze his dick off with his sphincter, which sent a thrill of arousal up Abdul’s spine.
Captain Chumbers heaved and moaned. His muscles undulating, flexing as an orgasm ran through him. Abdul could actually see the orgasm flow up his back in the contortions of his muscles. Abdul licked the sweat that trickled down his spine, holding on for dear life — he wasn’t even really ramming anymore, since he couldn’t get much leverage on his toes. Captain Chumbers’s body writhed, and his hips pushed back and forth, so all the power and motion came from Captain Chumbers instead of Abdul.
The cum flowed from Captain Chumbers’s dick so suddenly that Abdul gasped in surprise. He shot a huge load, most of which landed on Abdul’s fingers. His ass tightened again, which sent Abdul over the edge as well. He exclaimed in Turkish as he bucked atop Captain Chumbers’s expansive ass.
He shot his own load moments later, yelping and squealing when the exquisite pleasure rolled over him. He clutched at Captain Chumbers’s back and held on tight. He had never experienced such an intense orgasm, heightened this time by the awkward positioning and the difficult situation. A part of him still worried he was getting in serious trouble.
But then it was all over. They both limpened at once, and Captain Chumbers took a deep breath. He sighed. Abdul’s knees went weak, and he leaned into Captain Chumbers’s back for support.
“Get your dick outta me, sailor,” Captain Chumbers said with a growl. He no longer sounded like he enjoyed the plowing, and Abdul hurriedly pulled away. His cock popped right out.
“Sorry, uh, sir-“
“Shut up,” he said. “Make me suck my cum off your fingers, sailor.”
Abdul again hesitated, but Captain Chumbers turned around. He lowered his head until it was near Abdul’s cum-coated hand. But he stopped there, mouth open, waiting for Abdul.
It looked like Captain Chumbers was going to punish him for his delay, so Abdul hurriedly rammed his fingers in. Captain Chumbers’s mouth was so big Abdul could probably have fit his entire first in, but he didn’t. He just put his fingers in, and Captain Chumbers sucked off every drop of cum.
Then he dropped Abdul’s hand and pushed him away. Abdul breathed a sigh of relief that this was over. He pulled his pants up while Captain Chumbers put his dress uniform back on. His shirt was crooked, and Abdul fixed it for him.
“Thank you,” Captain Chumbers said. “I hope… I hope our Internet breaks again sometime.”
“Yeah me too.”
“I’ll be sure to call you.”
“Okay!” Abdul blushed. He hadn’t mean to sound so eager. “If you ever wanna…-“
“No, I don’t want to. You’re going to have to hold me down if you want to plow me again,” Captain Chumbers said. He gently rubbed Abdul’s smooth cheeks. “You look like a girl. You wouldn’t last ten minutes in the Navy.”
“Yeah… No, probably not,” Abdul said. He had never even considered joining the military.
“Get this Internet fixed,” Captain Chumbers said. “Now.”
“Sir, yes, sir!”

The Scarred Bouncer: Chapter 4

The Scarred Bouncer

Chapter One: An Affectionate Touch

Chapter Two: The Liminal Space

Chapter Three: A Glorious Face

Chapter Four: An Unexpected Connection

Chapter Five: A Deserved Choke

Chapter Six: A Good Friend

Chapter Seven: A Present of Sorts

Chapter Eight: That Sweet Release

Chapter Nine: A Plan for Repayment

Chapter Ten: An Unpleasant Chore

Chapter Eleven: A Sweet Release

On Friday night, two bouncers worked after nine o’clock. One worked inside, the other worked the door. Tonight, Knuckle kept the peace inside the bar. He preferred working the door. Inside, there was too much going on, too many spinning plates to take care of, lights flashing on and off, music booming boisterously, waitresses coming and going and dancers in and out of the champagne room and the dressing room and the back closet where they snorted drugs with men. Men ain’t allowed to touch the dancers, but the dancers could touch the men and even put the men’s hands wherever they wanted. Men ain’t allowed to be drunk, but they was allowed to get drunk. Men ain’t allowed in the back unless a dancer was escorting them to the champagne room. Inside the bar was a night stuffed with inconsistencies and unpredictable decisions. Knuckle hated it.
Not that any of that showed on his face. He was placid and firm, and his staggering stare stopped baddies from trying any tricks.
Knuckle stood by the bar, arms across his chest, legs slightly spread. He ain’t put on a tough face like the other bouncers, like Chuy, who worked the door, and he ain’t put on his smiling-brah face like Davon or his burly-daddy face like Wayne.
Conversation was subdued when Knuckle looked over the bar, and nobody sat at the tables nearest him.
Sanders Clampett sat closest to him. He was a regular, a middle-aged black man who often chatted with Teddy. He liked a couple of the girls enough to stare mouth agape every time one came near, and the girl he fancied most was Lace Laceright. She was big, buxom, heavily tattooed.
Tonight, she waitressed, so Sanders nursed his beer and flirted with her every time she passed him.
“Hey, baby, love ya top,” Sanders said when she came to the bar with orders from a table. It was obvious he been brainstorming ways to start a conversation with her. He flashed a grin at her.
“Thanks, sugah…”
“Hey, baby, you busy tonight?”
“Sure am, sugah…”
“Hey baby, you look thirsty. Wanna drink?”
“Hmm, I’d love a Sweetlips Sour,” she said. That was a mostly-water cocktail that the girls were encouraged to order. They got a bonus for it. Teddy made it for her, with the extra shot of tequila Lacey Laceright always requested.
As she bent over the bar to take it, Sanders looked at the tattoos on her back. “You got a redhead whiteboy tattooed on you, sweetums. That ya boy?” It was on her left shoulder. Teddy had noticed it too, but he’d never asked after it. Lacey Laceright had a lot of tattoos.
“That’s Skinny Malinky. He’s from a children’s book I like,” she said. She giggled and took a sip from her Sweetlips Sour. “Gotta take that table’s order, sugah.” She kissed Sanders on his cheek. “Thanks…”
“Hmmm… Hmmm…” Sanders let out a little moan and licked his lips when she kissed him, but then she was gone.
That night, hours later, Teddy was again closing down the bar. Arthur the bouncer at the door walked the girls to the parking lot, while Knuckle drank at the bar. Knuckle’s broad shoulders stretched his too-tight shirt. He gulped from the whiskey drink Teddy made him, so Teddy made him another one.
When Lacey Laceright walked by, her purse in hand, Knuckle looked at her and said, “The War Between the Pitiful Teachers and the Splendid Kids.”
Lacey Laceright and Teddy both looked at him with questioning eyes. Teddy stayed shocked — both by the bizareness of Knuckle’s words and the fact that he spoke without a direct question to respond to — but Lacey Laceright’s eyes lit up.
“Yes, oh my god, you’ve read that, Knuckle?!”
He nodded. “I read it a long time ago. I ai’t recognize the name when you said it, but I remember it…” He blushed and took a step towards her. “I like your tattoo a lot. Ma’am.”
She patted him on the chest and said, “You’re like maybe the third person I’ve ever met who’s read that. Thanks, sugah, have a good night.” And she walked out. She didn’t wait for Knuckle to escort her to her car, and Knuckle’s knees were weak, his teeth nervous, so it didn’t occur to him to go.
Teddy was impressed. That was the most personal thing Knuckle done ever said to anyone in Lipsweet, and it was the nicest any of the dancers done ever treat him. Knuckle hurried into the back — he was still living in the backroom next to the gym.
But he didn’t go straight there.
He went down the corridor behind the dance room, and he checked in the utility closets. He looked in the alley out back and behind the dumpster. He went to the champagne room and to the private spot where you could peep into the champagne room. He finally went into the “pantry” — that was what they called the room full of unopened liquor.
And there was Ernie the janitor. He was sweeping, singing softly to himself.
Ernie was in the pantry in hopes some shelf might be unlocked. He done tried them all — he did that every night because once, two years ago, he’d nabbed an entire shelf of fancy tequila that way. He’d been drunk for a month straight.
But when he heard someone in the hall, he got to sweeping. He assumed it was Teddy the bartender, here to get a new bottle of something, and Ernie needed an excuse to be in here. So he swept the floor of the tiny closet.

And he looked nonchalant at the sight of Knuckle. Ernie ain’t care about Knuckle — sure, he was ugly, even for a honky, and he was weird. But Ernie was a crackhead who done spent years behind bars. He done met more ugly, weird honkies than normal men. Knuckle was quiet, and he ain’t never told nobody nothing, so Ernie ain’t pay him no mind.

So Ernie shrugged and stopped pretending to sweep when he saw it was Knuckle. “Bottles is all locked up good,” he said. “Sometimes up at the bar there’s some rail liquor that-“
But Knuckle paid not a lick of attention to Ernie’s words. He strode into the tiny closet, shut the door behind himself and pulled down Ernie’s loose-fitting jeans. His other hand was in his pants, stroking his rock-hard dick.
“Hey! Honky-ass bitch!” Ernie yelped. “Git-“
But then Knuckle ripped Ernie’s tight white briefs apart to bare his bony asscheeks. Ernie squirmed and dropped the broom, then tried to pick it up to use it to fend off the giant bouncer behind him.
If it ain’t happen so fast, Ernie woulda realized bending over to pick up the broom was a bad idea. His yelp turned into a howl as Knuckle’s cock sank into his loose asshole.
“Shit, honky! Quit it! You gotta use some damn lube!” Ernie panted and clawed at Knuckle’s powerful chest behind him.
“Sssssh.” Knuckle ain’t get why Ernie was fighting him, but he ain’t care, he just sunk his dick in deeply. Ernie was a crackhead and a prison punk, and Mr. Gregarian was always making Knuckle cornhole him — any time he saw Knuckle (or any bouncer) with a stiffy, he told them to cornhole Ernie. Mr. Gregarian was worried a horny bouncer would get fresh with the dancers. Mr. Gregarian also found Knuckle just as creepy and offputting as everyone else, so he sometimes pretended to think Knuckle had a hardon to have an excuse to tell him to go away, to cornhole Ernie, so Mr. Gregarian wouldn’t have to endure Knuckle’s intense silence.
“Why you gotta rip my drawers?” Ernie said through gritted teeth. He spread his legs the best he could, and he grabbed the bottle of lube he kept in here. He still wore his underwear, but Knuckle done ripped the back of it in half to bare his butthole.
No answer was forthcoming. Knuckle grabbed Ernie by his knappy-ass hair, and he held on tight. That had the effect of making Ernie struggle with the lube — Knuckle ain’t trying to stop Ernie from lubing up, he done simply forgot that that was normal.
By the time Ernie got his hand down to his backside to smear some lube on, Knuckle was already pumping him full of cum. Great creamy gobs of it jazzed into Ernie’s butthole with such sudden energy that Ernie jerked and twitched.
His dick slid out. A couple cumwads sprayed over Ernie’s dark, gray-haired buttcheeks and dripped down his ropy thighs.
Knuckle sighed and pulled his rod with one hand. He drained the last couple drops of jizz out and flung them onto Ernie’s legs.
Ernie scowled and slipped away. “You a shit, honky,” he said. He wiped cum off his butt and ropy thighs. “Goddamn…” he pulled his pants up, torn briefs as well, and walked away muttering to himself. “Crazy-ass honky mothahfuckah…”

The Scarred Bouncer

Chapter One: An Affectionate Touch

Chapter Two: The Liminal Space

Chapter Three: A Glorious Face

Chapter Four: An Unexpected Connection

Chapter Five: A Deserved Choke

Chapter Six: A Good Friend

Chapter Seven: A Present of Sorts

Chapter Eight: That Sweet Release

Chapter Nine: A Plan for Repayment

Chapter Ten: An Unpleasant Chore