in a trailer park – Mansploitation

Smashwood Trailer Park

Rob is at it again, this time at the legendary Smashwood Trailer Park for an ultra-raunchy tale of redneck, hick, hobo, thug and hillbilly action! It’s filthy… it’s disgusting… it’s gotta be Smashwood!

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Rob Winthrop strode into Smashwood Trailer Park trying to look confident. This was a rough place, and he wasn’t a tough guy. Rob was wealthy, but he hadn’t let on when setting up today’s event. Hopefully nobody knew he was a billionaire. Everyone in the trailer park stared at him surreptitiously, but no one met his gaze.
Smashwood Trailer Park crawled with men. There were a few women too, but Rob could safely ignore them. They would be irrelevant today. Once things got started, they’d probably find better things to do anyway, Rob assumed. That was how it usually happened. And Smashwood was mainly home to single men, this part of it, anyway — the other side of Smashwood was for women and families.
Here was where the single men lived.
A gravel strewn with glitters of glass ran down the way, with a few dirt offshoots leading to tiny cul-de-sacs. The further from the main gravel road, the more rundown the trailers went, culminating in a suburb of sorts of shacks and shanties and lean-tos and cardboard boxes stacked in little palaces of rain-soaked debris, where muddy, unshaved men with wild eyes lived.
He went to the trailer of Baxter Pence, which was on a dirt road but not at the end of one. His was the last proper trailer on this spoke, as it was followed by a burnt-down husk before the trailers became shacks. He glowered at Rob but he opened the door and let him in. Bax Pence was a grungy hick, ropy-muscled and taut like he was hungry — he always looked hungry — with a heavily tattooed body that was very tan because he worked outside — he held up a stop-sign for a road crew — and rarely put a shirt on. He kept a tight wifebeater with him most of the time so he could put it on if he had to go into a store, but he only did that when he needed to. Around here, most stores didn’t give too much of a crap about the whole no-shirt-no-shoes-no-service thing. Bax was so tan he could pass for black if he wore a doo rag.
“Ah, shit, man… Let’s get this over with,” Bax said. “I got shit to do today.” He didn’t reveal what that “shit” was, but it was pretty obvious to Rob — Bax wanted to smoke meth. Or maybe sell meth, but Rob suspected the only reason he might have sold it was in order to buy it and smoke it for himself as well.
He caressed Bax’s ropy-muscled bicep as Bax cleared away some mud-splattered clothes from a small loveseat. His wiry body plopped down on it, and Rob went right to his chest.
He had an amazing six-pack, though it was obviously not because he was in great shape — it was because he was so skinny, he had that meth-addled physique. He even missed one front tooth, and his other teeth were chipped and yellowed. His body was greasy, unwashed for a long time, reeking of sweat and body hair, even though Bax was not hairy.
Rob pulled Bax’s cock out. He put the tip in his mouth and gurgled merrily on the nasty flavor — it was sour and salty, like unclean meat, like a steak you don’t want to eat. But Rob did want to slurp all that nastiness off. Bax’s muscles rippled beneath Rob’s touch. His tattoos were distorted and distended, like they had been done when he was much bigger than he was now.
A few other guys headed to Bax’s trailer, poking their head in but backing off when they saw Bax’s meth-starved body pounding away. No one wanted to seem too eager, so they didn’t line up, they just pretended there was no particular reason to mill around there, yet they did it anyway. They smoked cigarettes and pretended not to sneak peeks inside.
“Ah, shit, boys, he’s doin’ it!” Bax called out. He had decided there was no point in trying to be surreptitious or discrete about it. It was what it was. They all knew what was going on in here. His lithe body bounced back and forth. He wasn’t sure if he still had a hardon at this point, but his dick was in the freak’s mouth, so he was fulfilling his obligation as he saw it. All Bax cared about was getting enough money to buy his next hit of meth. “He best not stiff us, you won’t stiff us, right?”
“I’ll pay, I’ll pay,” Rob said through his moans.
“Oh yeah, Bax’s doin’ it! Bax’s doin’ it!”
“Shut up, man, don’t be a pansy. You’ll be on top-“
“Aw… fuck, there’s no way I’m doing it. I’m no-” That was the young redneck with the blond shaggy mane that was almost a mullet, Cabel Yoder, who kept blushing and looking away but sticking around with a face like someone had a gun to his head. “Aww, man, shit…” He had a big grin on his face. His pecs rippled beneath his sleeveless shirt every time he laughed.
“You sure?”
“You turnin’ down a nut, dude!?”
“Aww, man…” Cabel was clean-cut for a trailer park, in that he had all his teeth and no track marks. He was from a military and firefighter family, and he had some kinda Army crest tattooed on his back, along with rows of thorny roses. His back was lined with muscles. “Should I do it?” His cheeks burned red. He did like getting blowjobs, and he didn’t mind a blowjob from an ugly woman. This was no different, he thought…
Rob’s eyes were bugging out by the time he started to deep-throat Bax, whose cock got hard in his mouth. It was long but not too thick, making Rob wonder if his cock had gotten skinny when Bax started smoking meth just like the rest of Bax’s body got skinny. It tasted grimy, gritty, slimy with layers of sweat caked on, and Rob slurped all of it off. Before he knew it, that Cabel Yoder’s hardon was in his hand too.
“Aaah…” Bax moaned.
But that wasn’t going to happen. He writhed as his cock throbbed in Rob’s mouth. Bax was glad the meth hadn’t ruined his erections yet.
They were all going to ram Rob, all of the men in this trailer park. They were going to do it dirty, they were going to do it nasty, they were going to do it as one massive, multi-man pile-up, and Rob was going to enjoy every moment of it.
Rob got them to do this by promising two things every slice of trailer trash wanted: money and hot chicks.
Or one hot chick anyway: Jaleena Tight the porn star. She had been looking to do some kind of a redneck gangbang movie — they were hot right now — and she needed the rednecks. Rob, a long-time friend of hers, had agreed to provide them, and he middlemanned in the best way he could think of — only those trailer park trash who were willing to ramrod him now would get to gangbang Jaleena later.
So virtually all of them were going to do it. Most of the trailer park was coming in today, from this side of it at least. A couple of married guys from the other side were probably going to sneak over soon, but presumably without telling the wives. This wasn’t the kind of activity wives needed to know about.
“C’mon in, boys,” Rob called out when he sensed Bax was nearly ready to cum. Bax groaned — he had really wanted this gangbang to be more of a serial thing, not all-at-once. He didn’t need all of these white trash fuckheads cumming in his trailer. But that was already happening, with that Cabel Yoder and his buddy Jacob Billyman jousting in Rob’s open mouth, where Bax was smearing his precum on Rob’s tongue.
Rob reached out and pushed the door open, pulling off Bax’s dick for a few seconds to grab it. He thought Bax must have locked it, that was why no one had come in yet.
But the door popped open easily. That wasn’t why no one had come in.
No one wanted to be the first to start. They milled around and poked their heads in, gasping but trying to seem nonplussed when they saw Rob slathering spit up and down the local methhead’s shaft. It throbbed against his tongue, and Rob stroked it with both hands.
“Ah, shit-“
“Nasty-“
It was Cooter — Jethro Wilde — who came in first. He was older than most of the men in the trailer park, and he didn’t see any reason to dilly-dally. That was for young pups. He wasn’t going to be self-conscious, and he’d rather go now than wait for the nasty stranger to be all cum-coated and nasty.
“This the sissy who wanna get gangbanged?” Cooter said with a sneer. He licked his lips.
“Uh-huh, hang on, I’m gonna cum in a sec-“
“Nah,” Cooter said. He had a big hairy barrel chest, with curls of salt and pepper hair extended around the fabric of his sleeveless shirt. He was here laying asphalt this summer, and he had a burly body that was streaked with sweat and a few clumps of gray in his chest hair. There was even some cement that had gotten fixed to his broad shoulders. His sun-wizened face crackled with the layer of fine cement dust that clung to his skin and which flaked off when he moved. His callused fingers gripping Rob’s face to hold it in place.
Cooter dropped his jeans and slapped his dick on Rob’s face. Rob sucked on it too, leaving Bax’s precum-coated shaft to focus on Cooter, who had a nice thick dick, a big ugly knobbly prick that tasted like the sweat that made his chest hair cling to his body.
It was sour and salty and it got hard right away — Cooter didn’t drink or smoke meth, so he got hard easily. Bax was embarrassed by that, in his mind, it was very obvious that Cooter got hard more quickly than Bax did, and everyone who had even slightly glanced in the trailer must have noticed. He didn’t realize that no one was paying that much attention to him.
So he overcompensated by pushing Cooter aside. He meant to push on his thighs — because Cooter stood by the couch Bax still sat on — but he ended up touching his ass. “Get off, man, wait your turn-“
“I’m tryin’-a get off, and don’t touch my ass.”
“No, I mean, lay off him until I’m done, I ain’t cum yet-“
“You don’t know how this works, boy! Ain’t no ‘layin’-off’ until you done, that is the exact opposite of how this works,” Cooter said with a laugh. “Come on in, boys, the water’s just fine! He sucks a treat!” Cooter whooped. A few guys poked their heads in more openly, but no one actually came on in as Cooter had demanded. It was cramped in there, for one thing, and it was impossible to get in without touching Cooter’s hairy body and ass or the masturbating duo of Yoder and Jacob.
“Can you boys double-team my mouth?” Rob asked. He took both dicks in hand, pushed them onto his tongue and suckled moistly, letting Bax’s precum run down Cooter’s shaft. Rob loved mixing fluids from multiple alphas, and the part he liked best was that they acted like it was a betrayal. They both twitched and sneered their faces at each other, as they dicks smashed knobs together in Rob’s mouth.
“Hell yeah-“
“Oh… yeah…”
Actually neither of them were especially keen on jousting. But no one wanted to be the only one to back out either.
“Only pussies get scared of jousting,” Cooter said, eyeing Bax and rather hoping he would complain — Cooter was older and tougher (he thought) than most of the guys here, so he really wanted to demonstrate that today. “You ever done that before, Bax?”
Bax scoffed as though the answer should have been obvious. “Of course, man,” he lied. He gasped then as a pearly drop of precum slipped out of Cooter’s dick and onto his cock. Ah, shit, there’s another man’s cum on me, shit, shit, shit, they gonna think I can’t defend myself…
He was so entranced by that anxiety that he didn’t quite know what to make of the orgasm that hit him hard. His eyes opened wide. His dick was rubbing against Cooter’s older, thicker shaft as he gasped and writhed, pleasure rocketing up his spine. That pleasure came more from the friction of rubbing against Cooter’s shaft than from Rob’s mouth. Bax nervously bit his lip, subduing a howl as his ropy-muscled body twisted on the couch.
Cum sprayed down Rob’s throat, and he guzzled every salty, creamy drop. Another man had come into the trailer now, a scuzzy older man, not quite as old as Cooter, but with a more weathered face and a beard like a hobo. He was in there just in time to see Bax cum and watch all that semen run down Cooter’s shaft.
Cooter came too, soon after that, while the young men Yoder and Jacob needed only a few seconds on Rob’s mouth to add their loads to the mess clinging to Rob’s face. They were glad to get out of there early, before things got too gross.
Despite the sheen of white goob on Rob’s face, that out-of-town stranger with the wild beard came in next. The hobo-beard man— who wasn’t quite homeless — he told everyone he met he was “no homeless bastard” — ignored the stink of jizz in the room and didn’t even seem ot notice Cooter’s jizz spurting onto his leg as he came in. Cooter’s orgasm was loud and animated, sweaty, like a hyperactive coyote.
That bearded near-hobo didn’t realize that no one had rammed Rob in the ass yet (today). He was oblivious enough to not really notice or care that Rob was still sucking the cum off Cooter’s cock and that his ass wasn’t even bare yet.
“Lemme in that ass, bitch…” hissed the near-hobo who didn’t know anybody else here. His name was Ramblin’ Joe — t’was what the whole world always done did call him — and he knew damn well how to ram a goledarned sissy. They want it hot and hard and relentless. He had a jutting square jaw, a crooked nose and two cauliflowery ears, looking like a prize fighter despite his small size.
It was kind of nice, he thought, ripping Rob’s pants down and lifting him up, no need to be nice or gentle, all you had to do was ram. He aimed Rob’s face towards the door to the trailer, dragging him to the floor and jamming his dick in that tight ass even before it was fully hard. It went right on, sending a wave of pleasure up Rob’s spine.
It had been a long time since he had done wreck a booty, so that near-hobo, Ramblin’ Joe, whom no one knew was hard at just the thought of it. He was glad to see the other guys were cleaning up after themselves, since Rob’s ass wasn’t covered in cum already — not that that would have slowed him down.
The near-hobo gripped Rob tight, feeding his dick in, letting out a grunt when he was finally hard. Rob felt a tight pressure and a pinch. He reached behind himself to guide the near-hobo’s dick in, but the layers of dirty pants and overshirts were in the way — he had only lowered his pants, not actually taken them off or even all the way down.
But it seemed he didn’t need to do much anyway. Rob was on the floor and the near-hobo pounded away at his ass, hard and relentless. Rob reached for the cocks in front of him — he was angled towards the trailer door, where two guys stood there with their dicks out — Buck Sampson and Cody Lankford. Laughing with each other and ignoring Rob they took turns slapping Rob’s face with their cocks, letting him lick both shafts, though they hadn’t gotten hard yet.
“Ah, this sissy is naa-aasty!” Cody peered like an explorer at the sissy’s face, but he didn’t touch it. He watched with wide eyes as Ramblin’ Joe’s balls went thwack-thwack on the sissy’s chin, and Cody giggled like a girl when a drop of spit his cheek. He backed off. He was little, just a spit over five feet tall, powerfully built for his size but still scrawny, with a raggedy shock of mud-blond hair. He was bright-eyed, green as jade, with light skin and a youthful face, looking younger than his big-ass buddy Buck, though they were the same age.
“They’s all like that, man, I swear, they’s all into that kinky shit…” Buck Sampson shook his head. His mighty thirteen inch cock flip-flopped between his callused mitts. He was a roughneck like some of the others, home from the oil rig to spend his money on his woman, which in fact was where she was today, shopping like a mother hen, leaving him free to wreck this sissy in whichever hole was free when Buck got into the trailer. Buck was damn near seven foot tall, built like a stevedore, which was not a word with which Buck ever done made acquaintance with, and he had a deep huffy-puffy voice. “He prolly narsty, Cody…”
“Lemme in that bitch’s mouth, I’m gonna get a little neck, shite…”
Finally someone else was ready to get in his throat. Rob didn’t even look up in time to see his face — it was a biker who went by Greaser — so he could do little more than open wide and let his mouth fill. He had a little rattail of hair, skinny as a sumbitch, walking leaning back a little all the time, ready whenever the moment struck him with a comb and some grease to slick back his hair. That was how he got the name. He had a fat dick, which joined Buck’s and Cody’s and whoever else’s that Rob jerked off in turn.
As he swallowed Greaser’s erect cock, Rob tried to get up on all fours, but the near-hobo behind him was shooting his nut up Rob’s guts, so when Rob moved, he smacked him. “Stay still, bitch, lemme in there-“
“Yo, dawgie, lemme in there too,” said some black guy, a big shaved-head man with big ditch-digger’s arms. He pushed past the others, his erect cock rubbing against their asscheeks and thighs — which he did deliberately so everyone would see how big his cock was — as he pushed into the trailer. He grimaced a little at the sight of that cum-filled hole, but he didn’t wait. It wasn’t gangsta to wait to your turn.
The black guy — Deff Jasper — loved to gangbang sluts. He and his niggas Tyrell, Killer and all them, Slim Jay, Thumper, they all got a bitch to give up her booty and all on at lesat a monthly basis. Deff be gangbanging.
But Done never ramrodded a man like this. Thumper spent thirty-four years in prison, so you know he done wreck a honky booty now and then. Slim Jay was a straight up pimp, off the clock right now though, cuz there ain’t no point in bringing hos to Smashwood Trailer Park, cuz don’t nobody got money there. He do come by to stick it in a cummy asshole. Slim Jay always say a nigga has gotta stick his dick in something nasty now and then. That’s what means it to keep it real. Slim Jay ain’t wear his pimping suit today though. He got standards. Tyrell Brickley did likewise dress down, cuz he was a clean-cut kinda nigga with the ugly dick like a caveman. He got his meat in there using all them other niggas’s nuts as lube, and Tyrell busted a nut quick cuz a nigga like him got shit to do.
Oodles of cum gushed down Rob’s thighs, and his asshole gurgled up the cumwad still in there. Deff wondered how many men had already gotten in there as he plowed in, grimacing at the feel of cum spilling out and around him. That was Tyrell’s and Slim Jay’s and all them.
It spilled over his dark skin and into his pubic hair, making a big frothy mess. “Woo-hoo, shit yeah! Sloppy seconds, baby!” His eyes opened wide when his entire cock slipped into Rob’s ass without a moment’s hesitation — no girl had ever done that. His whole ten-inch shaft got sucked right in. He wondered if Rob was that slutty or if it was just part of sloppy seconds, if cum was really just a great lubricant.
The smell of cum grew overpowering in the trailer. Deff both laughed and wrinkled his nose. It ain’t never smell this bad when he gangbanged a female. But this white-ass punk smelled like a hundred hobos’s cumloads, and there might well have be that many on his face as far as Deff knew.
“Damn, boy, take that shit!” Deff smacked Rob’s ass and then instantly regretted it because he felt someone else’s cum on his fingers. It was hot and goopy, and it made his stomach churn.
There were more men in the trailer now, and someone’s erect cock rubbed against Deff’s ass. He tried to blow it off. It wasn’t a big deal — he had done the same thing, after all, just a few minutes ago. It was attention-grabbing though, the feel of another man’s cock right next to his asshole. What if someone attempted at him? Deff would have to throw down.
His anxiety didn’t stop him from filling Rob’s ass with creamy seed. He hooted and hit Rob in the side, just hard enough to make him squirm and clench around Deff’s cock. Deff sighed and pulled out.
“Make it leak out, bitch, I wanna see it gape and get frothy, shit!” Deff wanted to watch his cum spill out of Rob’s asshole, but before he could, another trailer trash — Ransom Wargrave — was already flopping his dick over Rob’s ass.
Wargrave was hard and ready to go. This was gonna be humiliating and disgusting but worth it if he got to fuck Jaleena Busty. Just picturing her and her enormous tits was enough to make Wargrave horny. He loved porn.
He was in his late twenties, wearing a football jersey because he had been a star player in high school, and he hadn’t yet grokked that he looked like a loser still wearing it all the time. He was skinny for a football player, like he was stuck in the thirties before they learned about protein powder and creatine. Wargrave slid his dick into Rob’s ass, surprised at how easy it was — he thought he’d have trouble staying hard with so many dicks everywhere (he’d accidentally touched ten or eleven on his way in here).
Cum poured out and added to the puddle on the trailer floor. Wargrave was ginger at first when he saw that, but somehow the disgust only made his erection throb harder, and he slammed his dick in. He chuckled at the sight of droplets of cum spraying out and around.
Rob focused on slurping on Wargrave’s dick. That was his usual plan in these sorts of gangbangs. He just wanted to get as much dick as he could, but his mouth was the part that needed the most active attention. The trailer trash could just keep plowing his ass, he needed only to let them go to town on him.
But servicing cock actually required his attention, at least the way he usually did it. The more this whole experience continued, however, the more Rob could just lay there — on his back eventually because that was easier — while he was plowed into on both his ass and his mouth. He got them all: muscular studs like Julian Bondarinko and his buddies Hyler and Specs, black guys — like this local musclebound rapper Killer and his multiracial posse Lamar, Mikey, Mane, Hansen and J-Moc — this tubby fatso named Piggie whose belly stank like cheap cheese, a stringy-haired beggar named Tommy Weathers, a trucker named Manky who was just passing through, crackheads with names like Belmont and Spider and Nugget, all of them came to make Rob as nasty as could be. As predicted, at least one married man from the other side of the park, Jerry Maple, did come over and get a nut off real quick, before his wife noticed he was gone.
“Gonna make ya dirty-“
“Ah, boys, that is some nasty shit, lookit his ass, it’s all… gross…”
He lay on his back with his head dangling over the edge of the top-step leading out of the trailer. That angle made it easier for scumbag after scumbag to throat him down, until his mouth was coated with gobs of precum, semen and puddles of his own spit.
His throat was sore, but this was the part that Rob loved most. He could keep his mouth open as though his jaw was slack, and they just kept plowing in. Every time one person finished spewing jizz down his gullet, another one took his place. Once he got into the swing of things, Rob could — and gladly would — deepthroat any cock, no matter how big. In fact a couple of them had noticeably tiny dicks, like that Mikey Thimble, but even that contributed to the nasty mess all over Rob’s face, and he appreciated the lack of self-consciousness these men had about that.
How many loads was this? Rob had lost count. He was pretty sure he had at least thirty on his face now. He tasted cum everywhere. He couldn’t even tell which loads were on his face and which had been shot right down his throat.
“Make him cummy! Make him cummy!”
“His face is so nasty, got like a million babies on his face-“
“Ew, don’t say it like that, man-“
“It’s more than a million anyway. That is so gross. It looks like snot and shit!”
The last guy on his face was a young man who had very nearly refused to participate in this. He was Chris Hazel, and he was only nineteen, barely out of high school. He didn’t want to do anything gross, so he had opted out. He didn’t want to gangbang a female porn star either. He had cute-boy dimples but white-trash hair, and his furry chest was meaty and well-fed like he didn’t come from here. He did come from Smashwood, he just looked well-fed for a trailer park.
But when the others started teasing him about it, asking if he was unable to get hard, he felt compelled to do it. He stuck his hard dick in Rob’s mouth and closed his eyes, trying not to feel the clumps of cum that stuck to his thighs and his pubic hair.
Rob’s face had been virtually bukkaked — most of the men had shot in his throat, so it wasn’t real bukkake, it was more spit and precum and spat-up cum — and Chris was shocked to feel that sticky seed all over his balls and his shaft.
The guys in Rob’s ass were the raunchier ones — it took a special kind of guy to gangbang a male stranger. It was the ragged, long-haired Logan Barnaby who was last to go in there.
“‘Course Logan’s doin’ it…”
“He’ll stick it in anything!”
He had climbed in the window to get in that ass. Logan would gladly fuck any woman in the ass — he was known for that in the park, he had no shame about plowing morbidly obese women, elderly women, toothless drug whores, any woman who would willingly give up the ass, he fucked them.
He done stuck more than a few men in the ass too, but he was at least discrete about that. Usually. He was in a hard rock band, and he had a hard-living kind of face, he looked like the kind of man who lived in his car, which he in fact did — it was parked at the end of a dirt road at the far end of Smashwood. His work-hard jowls and broad shoulders were sore, his hairy greasy and unkempt, his cock uncut and fat as the beer bottles he was constantly drinking from.
Going last was not bad at all, he thought. It was like swimming in spooge. He wasn’t even sure he could feel the walls of Rob’s guts. It was all cum, like dipping his dick in a sauce made of raunch. His long stringy hair rocked back and forth and covered his face as he watched that young pup Chris spray one last load all over Rob’s face.
“Ah, damn, bitch…” he said with a sigh as his own orgasm rocked his body. It was intense, prideful — he felt like he had conquered a weaker man.
He added his own cum to the soupy mess that was Rob’s ass. Rob was still on his back, legs in the air, so as he finally experienced the last throes of his potent prostate orgasm, Rob’s toes gripped Logan’s hairy shoulder-muscles.
Logan didn’t mind. He stayed right there, dipping his dick in that cummy soup as it limpened in Rob’s ass. He cocked his head to the side, marveling at the intense pleasure his cock could bring someone like Rob. Rob squirmed and squealed, making the jizz that coated his face and body stream down onto the floor of Bax’s trailer.
“Well, fuck, bitch, you are nasty!” Logan said, in a tone that suggested he did not see that as an insult.
“I know,” Rob said, giggling. “But thanks for pointing it out.” He sighed and began licking up all the cum he could get to from his face, chest and ass. It tasted like spit and armpit sweat and other flavors he couldn’t quite identify. He was so focused on that he ignored the men laughing at him — and at Bax, whose trailer was positively soaked in cum.
“Ah… it’s nasty in here,” Bax said. He hadn’t predicted this would all happen in his trailer. He had put a sheet down on the couch, but of course, that hadn’t been enough. He’d assumed the action would move out into the trailer park proper.
“Yeah, it’s pretty nasty,” Rob said, rubbing his sore ass. He giggled and blushed. “Just the way I like it.” He put his clothes back out, and groped all the men he could reach as he headed for the trailer park’s entrance. “I’ll send Jaleena over tomorrow. I’ll be your fluffer too.”
Once they were away from Bax’s trailer, most of them got excited about tomorrow’s gangbang, and they began to brag about who would fuck her best, first and in the most interesting ways. Rob couldn’t wait for that too. He knew he wouldn’t get as much cum tomorrow, but it would be fun in its own way.
Plus he already had a lead on a construction crew who was willing to cornhole the everlasting fuck out of him next week.

The White Trash

Avery’s surprise encounter with the white trash hunk Calloway leads to a bout of intense rough trade, as he gets to swing on the trashiest redneck this side o’ the holler!

Read it now as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Calloway Hitch stumbled home, exhausted. His boss dropped him off at just past four o’clock in the morning at the entrance to Smashwood Trailer Park. He probably would have driven into the trailer park, right to Calloway’s front door if Calloway had asked him to.
But he hadn’t asked. He didn’t want him to do that, it was too awkward.
He thought there was a chance his girlfriend had kicked him out. He didn’t want to get dropped off at a trailer with a sign on the door saying Calloway fuck off! It would be awkward. Calloway was used to it. He could just sleep on the grass, and his boss would never have to know what a deadbeat he was.
It wasn’t like he wasn’t already dirty.
He worked on a road crew rebuilding the parking lot at the local hospital. His job involved standing around, sometimes for hours, then working furiously to dig trenches. It wasn’t specialized labor but it was boring and it was physically arduous and it left him covered head to toe in dirt.
Clumps of dirt clung to every scrap of skin that was visible, and some had even gotten under his pants somehow — he was shirtless because it was a hot Mississippi night, so his chest was absolutely covered in dirt. It had been mud originally, but it dried into just plain dirt.
The farther he got from his boss’s truck, the more tired he became. The adrenaline flowed out of his veins, and every step he took was wearying. He was increasingly sure his girlfriend would have found a reason to be pissed at him.
Sure enough, when he got close to the trailer, he saw a piece of paper on the door to his trailer. He groaned. He felt so tired he didn’t even want to keep going to read it. He could just curl up here on the grass and sleep.
But he wanted to read it. What if the note said Daenerys has a fever, we’re at the hospital? He’d look like an absolute piece of shit if he never showed up to see his own daughter at the hospital just because he was too lazy to get close enough to read the note.
So he staggered there on tired legs. Sure enough it read fuck off Calloway yr child spprt check bounced again will call cops if u come in go away go away go away. He let out a growl aimed at no one in particular. He didn’t understand why that check had bounced, he had thought there was enough money in there to cover it.
“Goddamn fuck!” He shouted at the sky. He knew he ought to be quiet, but he was upset and he needed to express it. Somewhere a dog barked.
A light turned on in the trailer. Calloway groaned and spat on the ground. He didn’t want to get in trouble and he couldn’t handle getting arrested again, but if that bitch baby-mama of his was going to come out here, he was going to defend himself.
“There you are, Calloway, you piece of shit! Daenerys needs school clothes-“
“So do I, bitch!” Calloway shouted, pointing at his shirtless body and tattered old jeans.
His girlfriend wore one of his oversized tee shirts over a pair of shorts. She came out with a baseball bat in her hand. She was red-faced and puffy because she had been asleep — and probably was binge-drinking — until moments ago. “You told me you’d pay up this month-“
“I tried, but you kept borrowin’ money for beer-“
“Don’t try to pawn this off on me, you deadbeat piece-of-shit-“
“If I’m a dead beat, you’re an entire dead rap-“
Not that far away, Avery woke up with a start. He had found an empty trailer in the Smashwood Trailer Park and moved in yesterday. He went outside just in time to see Calloway curse at some of the neighbors who had poked their heads out of their trailers. Nobody called the cops in places like this, not unless it was absolutely necessary, they just shouted at Calloway and “that bitch” to shut up.
“Why don’t you go suck that cop’s dick again?!” Calloway shouted at her as she backed into the trailer. “Maybe his cum is beer! You dumbass bitch!” He faced the neighbors in the rest of the trailer park. “She loves sucking off cops! She especially likes that fat motherfucker Heartley!”
Some people snickered. It wasn’t clear if they were laughing at Calloway for calling Officer Heartley fat or if they were laughing at Calloway’s girlfriend for sucking off a cop. Calloway smiled victoriously — he had obviously interpreted it as the latter, but the look on his girlfriend’s face as she went inside suggested she thought it was the former.
Calloway tried to look like he was confident and proud as he chose a spot on the grass. It was on her property, in front of her trailer, but it was close to the road. The grass was cool and dewy. It actually felt very good — it was moist, the cold wetness sliding over his bare chest and forming clean rivulets that ran down his chest.
Once some of the filth had been wiped off, a few tattoos were visible, pale looping lines, soldiers carrying American flags and an iron cross on his neck. Clumps of mud fell off his taut, leanly muscled chest. Avery watched him settle out and lay down. Calloway didn’t last very long though before he got back up and looked around to see who was up.
Calloway didn’t go to bed without drinking. He wasn’t an alcoholic, mind you, he just didn’t go to bed without drinking. He often had only a few drinks, it was just a way to relax and get sleepy.
But of course he didn’t have any, and his girlfriend wasn’t about to let him in to nab a beer (she had probably drank it all anyway). No one else was even awake.Was he going to have to sleep totally sober?
“Psst! Hey,” Avery said, approaching him in the darkness.
Calloway nodded at him as though he often chose to sit, covered in dirt and dew, in the grass at four o’clock in the morning. He didn’t recognize Avery. “Sup, man.”
“Hi. I’m Avery.”
“Sup.”
“I just moved in across the way,” Avery said. He pointed to his new trailer.
“Cool.” Calloway paused, then said, “Hey, you got any liquor? I need a drink. No biggie, I just need a little-“
“I do in my trailer, yeah,” Avery said. He came closer and sat down in the grass next to him. “I’ll give it to you. I’ve got five bottles — I filled out my bar when I moved in. I got a bottle each of vodka, brandy, rum, gin and tequila.”
“Ah, no shit? What? What’d you say your name was?” He looked at Avery as though he really mattered now.
“Avery.”
“Cool. Hey Avery, I’m Calloway. Lemme get a drink of that rum,” he said. As he said it, he thought there had to be a catch. This trailer park was home to tons of poor white trash like him — not quite as poor or as trashy as him, but still, no one who lived here believed there was such a thing as “extra rum”, and they never had bottles around the trailer without a plan to drink them in the near future.
“Sure, sure, but first… Will you cornhole me?”
Calloway paused for a long time, his face emotionless. Then he furrowed his eyebrows. The dirt that clung to his skin cracked because he didn’t often move in that direction, and little bits of it dropped over his face and his bare chest. “What?”
“Cornhole me,” Avery said. “I wanna taste your dick and feel you in my ass — you gotta cum inside me. You don’t pull out, do you?”
“Uh… What?”
Avery smiled. He reached for Calloway’s crotch, and Calloway sucked in his breath and scooted back. Calloway licked his lips. Avery moved very slowly so Calloway could get away if he wanted to. But Calloway just watched as Avery’s hand grabbed his cock through those mud-choked jeans.
“Is that cool? I’ll give you the best dome of your life, man.”
“Right here? I mean…”
“Yeah, it’s gotta be here,” Avery said. “It’s not that public.” They were not illuminated by the street lights strung up to the trees along the dirt road through the trailer park, and it was four o’clock in the morning, so no one was around. It was barely “in public” at all.
Calloway had a hollow hick laugh, and his heavily tattooed body shook. He was very muscular — not like a bodybuilder, like a worker, with heavily overdeveloped shoulders because he spent a lot of time digging trenches. He also spent most of his money on bills, debt, court fees and child support, with a hefty amount going to booze, weed and some occasional pills. He spent virtually no money on food.
So there was no padding anywhere on his body. Avery gently stroked his dick through his pants as Calloway hemmed and hawed, and Avery’s other hand began to touch his ribs. He had a perfectly flat belly, with not an ounce of fat anywhere to be seen.
That didn’t mean he had a six-pack though. He didn’t go to the gym or work out in an organized enough fashion for an actual six-pack, his abs weren’t that well-developed. His limbs were skinny despite the corded-muscles attached to them.
Avery suspected he smoked meth, which wasn’t true — but only because he had cleaned up when he was last in prison. Calloway had smoked meth for years before getting locked up. Now he didn’t see any of that other stuff as being real drug use: the weed, the pills, none of that mattered as long as he stayed off the meth.
“Fine,” Calloway said. He smiled nervously, revealing his jagged teeth with a gaping hole on the front-bottom. He was missing a few teeth in the back too. He leaned over on his back on the grass, raising his arms over his head so he didn’t have to watch it happen.
“Have you ever been jerked off by a man before?” Avery asked. He unzipped Calloway’s jeans and pulled his dick out. It was long and not that thick, just like Calloway’s body, but it looked tasty. He flopped it over his face, and chased it with his tongue. When he did finally get a taste of it, Calloway shuddered and shook like he hadn’t thought that would really happen.
“Uh…” Calloway blushed. His voice was weak and wavery. “In prison, once. That was… not, uh… like this.” That had been totally different. His father had told him once that it ain’t none of that shit if there ain’t no females around, like in the Army. Calloway had taken that to heart. That had been the one thing he had been excited about in prison — getting jerked off by prison bitches all the time.
But it hadn’t really turned out like he had thought. Sissies in prison weren’t treated as bitches, they were treated like queens. They got to do anything they wanted. The one sissy Calloway had wanted to get dome from — because he was very girlish and had excellent, thick lips — refused on account of Calloway being a filthy hick who smelled like ball-sweat.
Not only was Calloway not allowed to force anyone into giving him dome, he couldn’t even pay or beg for one — he had only ever gotten that one nut off because he spent all weekend showering, even buying cologne in the Commissary, and then he had had to take “his man” out “on a date” in his prison cell. It had taken weeks to set up. It was more difficult to get jerked off on in the inside than it was on the outside.
This, however, had happened so quickly and so suddenly Calloway was still pondering it when it had happened. His pants were virtually ripped down and his cock plopped right into Avery’s mouth.
At last, he felt a twinge of pleasure. This dome was a little weird and awkward and he prayed that no one was awake to look out their window — even in the darkness, they could probably see what was happening — it was a full moon tonight, after all.
His dick soon firmed up in Avery’s mouth, long and throbbing against his tongue. Avery deep-throated him until his nose was buried in Calloway’s bushy pubic hair.
The taste was raunchy and sour, and it made Avery gag most deliciously. Calloway’s dick had the flavor of dirt and mud from the day’s work, and even more intensely, an underscent of old, stale dirt, the scent of dried mud and of dusty rooms, all clinging to his dick. There were even clumps of what Avery could only assume was actual dirt, or maybe some sort of grease or oil, since it had a rather chemical, astringent flavor to it.
It was actually engine oil, from when Calloway had given his boss an oil change for a few extra dollars. That had been three days ago, and Calloway hadn’t showered since then. So that extra-ripe funk emanating from his ballsac was all the stale sweat that had collected in the humid area between his legs.
It felt good to have his pants down and his cock out. Calloway didn’t get to wash that often, so his crotch didn’t get bared that often either. He sighed and tried to concentrate on how good this dome felt — he had to admit it was the best dome he’d had in awhile.
“Goddamn,” he said as he lit a cigarette. He hadn’t intended to smoke any more before he went to sleep tonight — he was trying to conserve his cigarettes — but this seemed like a fortuitous enough even to justify it. Besides, he always smoked when he got dome. He was saving enough in getting this free rum that it didn’t seem that important — he could use the money he saved by not needing to buy alcohol for a few days to buy more cigarettes instead. He could even buy a carton, he thought, which would save him even more money.
His cock leaked precum that coated Avery’s throat and tongue. Avery guzzled it down greedily, slathering spit all up and down that greasy dick. He didn’t use his hands, preferring to sneak up and over his raunchy body. His muscles rippled beneath Avery’s touch.
Then Avery pulled off and slurped on his balls, which were so sour with funk that he gagged violently. The taste brought tears to his eyes. There was so much sweat there it tasted like he had splashed his tongue into a puddle of muddy taint-juice.
“Ha!” Calloway pumped his bicep as though he had been hoping to make Avery gag like that. He blushed a little too, though that wasn’t visible beneath the layer of mud that still dappled his cheeks. His taint-hairs tickled Avery’s tongue as he licked the spot beneath Calloway’s ballsac. “You are a fuckin’ nasty freak… — Avery, I mean,” he said when he remembered Avery’s name. He flopped his dick over Avery’s face.
This, Calloway thought, was what he had been expecting out of prison bitches. He thought there’d be lots of gagging and he’d get to mollywop his prison bitch on the cheek. He did that now as Avery slurped on his balls and retched. He slapped his cock over Avery’s face, again and again. He chuckled to himself. Now that he had done it this way, all nasty and humiliating and raunchy, he was glad he had done it romantically and sweetly in prison — this was a funnier idea than an actuality.
“Are you ready to get in my ass?” Avery asked. He blushed because of the disgusted look on Calloway’s face.
Calloway shrugged and sighed. “I guess so.” He had refused to do anal in prison. It just seemed too gross, he thought. Those prison-sissies probably had old cumwads drying in their ass. Every time he watched his cellmate do it — Calloway tried to look away when it happened, but like a car accident, he couldn’t always look away — he thought he saw little dried flecks of cum on the man’s cock. It wasn’t easy to see if that’s really what it was, not without getting on his knees and peering closely — which he wasn’t going to do — it could have been bits of fuzz from the prison-issued underwear, for example.
But it seemed like it could have been dried up, old cum, and he wasn’t going to let himself touch that. No way. That was nasty.
Avery, he could be somewhat confident, wouldn’t have cumwad still soaking into his ass. Avery bent over the grass, with his ass high in the air, swaying back and forth. Avery used one hand to spread his asscheeks, revealing a tight brown hole that beckoned.
Calloway whistled. “Damn, that looks tight. I know it ain’t, it can’t be — you must be nasty-loose on account of you wanderin’ ‘round trailer parks gettin’ it up the ass…”
Avery giggled and shook his ass. “Yeah. You got a good point. I’m good at keeping it tight though. Go ahead and just ram it in.”
Calloway grimaced. He normally would hold his dick in his hand and guide it in, but he didn’t want to do that because it would mean he had to touch Avery’s ass with his hands. He instead closed his eyes and tried to jab it in with no hands — but of course he just missed. He rammed it into Avery’s asscheek, leaving a moist spot of precum.
“You missed, dude,” Avery said with a giggle.
A blush bloomed on Calloway’s face again. He was glad no one could see. He looked like he was fumbling through his first time. He grimaced and tried again, this time getting it close into Avery’s cheeks.
He found the hole but had trouble getting his dick in without touching Avery’s ass. More than once, his hands instinctively grabbed those cheeks and his shaft, and tried to help his dick in, but then he pulled back when he realized he was touching Avery too much.
He took a deep breath. Touching a man’s ass wasn’t that bad, he thought, it looked better than fumbling like a squeamish virgin. He bit his lip and separated those cheeks with one hand, while his other slid his dick in.
“Damn…” Much to his surprise, it fit in very easily. Avery’s ass slid apart to almost suck his cock in. He had only intended to stick the tip in at first, to go slowly and see how much pain Avery was going to be in.
But instead Calloway watched with wide open eyes as his cock was slurped up by Avery’s ass. It clenched tightly around his shaft, and Calloway began to piston his hips.
He had been so focused on his surprise and his discomfort that Calloway gasped when a shudder of pleasure flowed through him. He bit his lip. He gripped Avery’s ass even more tightly with his fingers, so he could easily ram his dick in and out.
“Shit, boy, goddamn,” Calloway said, with a groan as pleasure flowed through his veins.
He had to admit this was better than fucking most women. It had its drawbacks, sure — no tits to grab on to, no pussy to play with, and he couldn’t kiss Avery — or wouldn’t, anyway — but Avery fit in that sweet spot between ‘tight and intact’ and ‘nasty and loose’. He was loose yet tight because he clenched hard on Calloway’s dick, as though trying to prevent him from ever pulling out. No girl did that.
Avery winced and writhed beneath Calloway, clawing at the dewy grass beneath him. He had thought they only just started plowing, but when he saw the first brilliant fingers of dawn sliding over the horizon, Avery realized he had lost track of time. It must be getting late, he thought.
It was well past five o’clock. Avery had been worshiping every inch of Calloway’s body for more than an hour, and now his prostate sang with every thrust of Calloway’s cock into him. Calloway’s lean and ropy body wrapped around Avery as he neared his orgasm, pounding away, his inhibitions finally gone at last. He didn’t even stop himself when he fondled Avery’s nipples out of pure instinct — Calloway had forgotten he wouldn’t find any tits there, and he was glad no one was around to see him do that.
An orgasm ripped through Avery’s body first. Calloway, again, was surprised — he didn’t know it was possible to orgasm while getting rammed in the ass. Girls never did that when getting fucked.
Avery shot cum all over the grass and his own hands, while Calloway felt his body ripple and massage his dick; he could sense the orgasm flowing through Avery’s body, and it was enough to bring him to the edge of his own climax.
“Damn, nasty-ass pig, you are gross!” Calloway barked right into Avery’s ear. Then he pushed Avery’s still-orgasming face into the mud. Avery got a mouthful of dirt as the raunchiest cock he’d ever taken shot its creamy wad into his guts. “Gonna fill you up wit’ my babies, bitch…”
Creamy hot cum sprayed into Avery, who moaned, his own climax still emanating through his body. The sticky, milky texture of cum was palpable inside him, and still more shot in, jet after jet of the most incredible load Avery had ever taken. It coated his insides and spilled out in a big cummy mess that coated Calloway’s crotch.
Exquisite waves of pleasure wracked both men. Avery howled out loud, uncaring of whether or not he attracted attention from the neighbors. Calloway did the same for a moment, then clenched his teeth shut and looked around to be sure no one was watching. He was unable to resist letting out a long, low and lingering moan though, as his hands gripped Avery’s smooth flesh.
Shudders flowed up Avery’s body, and his fingers tightened into claws that dug up clods of dirt underneath. Avery threw his head back, unable to howl anymore because the pressure and the pleasure were too intense. He could only gasp and cry out and beg for more from Calloway, who was still grunting with each thrust of his hips, sending spurt after spurt of creamy hot jizz up Avery’s body. Calloway’s sweat-soaked body gained a whole new layer of salty sweat that clung to his muscular frame.
Clumps of cum slipped out and onto the grass. “Ewgh, oh shit, I can see it, damn…” Calloway pulled out slowly, watching his creamy white semen plop out with his dick, until Avery’s entire ass was covered in glistening cum. Calloway’s dick rested on the surface, marinating in the santorum that dried there.
“How was that?” Avery said. His body was weak and tender, but he managed to stand on wobbling knees. He grabbed Calloway’s dick with one hand and gave it a stroke. A post-orgasmic shudder of exquisite pleasure shot through Calloway, who’s long limbs all tensed.
“Cool…” Calloway’s voice was breathy and tired, even more exhausted now than when he had gotten home from work.
“Come on,” Avery said. He held onto Calloway’s dick as he led him inside. “Lemme get you that rum.”
“Hell yeah,” Calloway said. “I gotta get drunk quick before the sun goes up, or I won’t be able to sleep.”
Avery nodded. He didn’t care. Once Calloway passed out drunk it would be morning, and he had heard a rumor there was a garbage man who sometimes wagged his massive knob at women who were up that early. Avery fully intended to be there.

The Alpha in a Pair of Overalls

Avery could use a handyman, and lucky for him, a white-trash alpha comes by looking for work. That means Avery is in for another wild ride of hardcore, man-on-man action with this studly but desperate semi-homeless beggar!

Is Avery ready for Thomas’s brand of redneck action?!

Read it now as an ebook!

Or read the whole thing here!

Avery sighed as he looked over the mess he had made. The bed-frame was together in two pieces, with a pile of extra screws near his feet. The extra screws were problematic, he thought, because there were some of a type he had not used at all — why would the furniture-makers have put an unnecessarily long screw in the box?
But there were no screw holes he had missed, and he had even read through the directions. They didn’t make a lot of sense though. Extra screws would make sense, in case some got lost. But why would there be a whole nother kind of screw that wasn’t used?
Maybe they got mixed in from a different product?
Now he wasn’t sure how to get the two parts of the bed-frame together. The box said one person could put it together in ten minutes, but it had taken more than an hour and Avery no longer thought he could do it alone — somebody needed to hold the frame in position while he screwed in the last four screws.
He cursed at himself and sat down, deciding to take a break. He didn’t need a bed-frame at all, he reminded himself. He had slept on a mattress on the floor for years, and he didn’t think it was absolutely necessary to have a bed-frame.
The doorbell rang and Avery was so startled he jumped. He glanced out the living room window.
He saw a stranger, a young buck of a redneck in overalls with paint and grass stains covering the fabric. He wore no shirt, revealing a broad, ruddy and work-toned chest. He had on heavy work-boots stained with mud. His dirty blond hair was long and scraggly.
He opened the door. The redneck opened his mouth to speak, then hesitated. Avery got the impression he paused because he was surprised to see a man and maybe was reconsidering what he came here for. Then he cleared his throat and spoke, in a deep, lowcountry South Carolina accent, but sounding like he was trying to speak as politely as he could.
“Uh, hello… sir, my name is Thomas, and I’s here fer askin’ fo’ work. I ain’t goin’ on the welfare but I needs to make me a little money.” He blushed. “Mah family’s farm, it ain’t workin’ no mo’. We ain’t got a dime.”
Avery smiled. “I’m sorry to hear that, Thomas. It’s very nice to meet you. My name is Avery,” he said. “It just so happens I could use a hand with something right now.”
Thomas smiled nervously and stepped in when Avery motioned for him. Thomas sighed. “I can work for a you, no problem- I respec’ e’rybody, and I does good work, I do, as the Bible commands. I got the Lord-“
Avery nodded and shook his hand, interrupting him because he could tell Thomas was the kind of gibbering redneck who never stopped talking. Avery smiled. “Well, Thomas, there’s a couple things I could have you do,” Avery said.
“I’m good with tools, and my hands. I can build all kinds of things, sir.”
“I’m sure you’re great with your hands, and I do have some work like that for you to do,” Avery said. “But first, I just want you to stand there for a minute. Okay?”
He nodded, but watched Avery warily as Avery shut the front door. Then Avery approached him and grabbed at his dick through the rough denim of his overalls.
Thomas stiffed and gasped in shock, but he kept it subtle — he must really need the money, Avery thought. His toes curled as he blushed but submitted to Avery’s fingering of his cockshaft.
“I do have something that needs to be done with the hand,” Avery said. He intended to continue talking, to say that he wanted to give Thomas a handjob. But then Thomas nervously reached out to Avery’s jeans and grabbed at his crotch.
Avery gulped. Apparently, Thomas had interpreted his words to mean that he was supposed to give Avery a handjob — Avery would never have guessed Thomas would agree to that, so he hadn’t even thought of asking, but now he decided to play along.
“Good, good boi. You is good wit’ yo’ hands,” Avery said, accentuating his accent to match Thomas’s redneck dialect.
Thomas winced as his hand reached into Avery’s jeans to grab his cock. He let go as soon as he touched it, then picked it up again. Thomas giggled as though he was a little boy dared into doing something scandalous.
“Just so’s you know, sir, this ain’t the first time I jacked off a man,” Thomas said. He beamed as though he was proud of that.
“That’s good,” Avery said. “You ain’t the first redneck I messed with neither.”
He sniffed. “I ‘spect not.” His meat was limp. It had initially stirred but as Avery reached under the man’s overalls to finger it, he lost it — he must have been disgusted by touching Avery’s dick. He blushed when Avery took out his massive meat, which was ruddy like his shoulders. “I ain’t circlejerked in a long time… ‘s hard to get a stiffy with a man touchin’ me.”
Avery angled his hips so his cock touched Thomas’s. They sword-fought, which made Thomas frown and furrow his brow. As he relaxed, he got hard all over again, and in no time he was jabbing his dick at Avery like a club. Thomas’s cock was much longer and thicker, which probably helped him feel more comfortable with this, Avery thought, and it was veinier too, rougher beneath Avery’s fingers, already pulsating with the youthful vigor of Thomas’s sexuality.
Then Avery wrapped both of Thomas’s hands around both cocks, so he could masturbate them both at once. Thomas looked down like a mad scientist alarmed at what his creation was doing. Thomas’s muscles all tightened at once and then didn’t loosen. He stayed flexed.
Precum coated Thomas’s fingers. Avery figured it must have been his own because Thomas had just gotten hard moments ago, but Avery scooped some up without stopping Thomas’s strokes. The precum stuck to his fingers, which he sucked clean, much to Thomas’s disgust. More precum leaked out and coated Thomas’s hand down to his wrist.
“You into that?” He paused. “For real?”
Avery nodded with a wry smile. “I appreciate the male form,” he said. He gave Thomas’s cock a firm squeeze. “Some parts more than others.”
“Well, shit… You know the Bible say not to do that, right? I feels obligated to tell you that, boy,” Thomas said. “You should only e’xperience ‘rousal in the context of a marital spouse.” He was stroking both cocks slowly now, peering down into Avery’s face as he did. His own cock was hard, but not rock-hard, he was too distracted.
Avery, on the other hand, was going to bust anytime. A wave of pleasure battered his body, and he probably would have cum already if not for Thomas’s awkward grip and slow strokes. Avery’s dick pulsated next to Thomas’s. Avery had trouble speaking since he was so close to orgasm. All he could focus on was the hot slab of redneck meat throbbing against his own cock. He smelled sunlight and hay emanating from Thomas’s burly body and the dirty overalls he had unbuttoned.
“I done this before,” Thomas said, licking his lips. “I circlejerked a couple times, back in the day.” He grunted. “I’s just lettin’ you know cuz I ain’t a saint, I done sin in the premarital fashion too. I done got overcomed by desire, for sh’ore, for sh’ore! The Lord Jesus does forgive.”
“Really?” Avery asked, genuinely surprised by that. Thomas nodded, barely stroking both dicks together anymore, but he did grip them, and the callused grip of his workaday hands sent thrills of desire up Avery’s spine. Avery cleared his throat and said, “C’mon, tell me more.”
“Oh well, my pa hired these black boys. Them two used to circlejerk all the time. Said they learnt it in prison,” Thomas said. “They used-ta be sleepin’ in the barn at night, and just ‘bout e’ry night I be hearin’ ‘em out there groanin’. My paps’d kill me if’n he knew I go out there, just ta see what they’s doin’. Well, not jest that, I did join in sometimes, but them black workers, they got muscles and use ‘em all on they meat, I dunno why, they attack that shit like they angry wit’ it.” He blushed. “Feels good in its way. You even better at it, boi. Don’t tell my paps I say that. He ain’t ‘nlightened ‘bout that stuff like I is, he ain’t think I should be spendin’ time with you.”
Unable to stop himself any longer, Avery moaned as cum spurted from his rod. He leaned in and kissed Thomas’s toned body, sucking on the sweat that clung to his frame — Avery liked muscular men, but not perfect six-pack bodybuilder-types, so Thomas’s ropy muscles were exactly what he wanted. Thomas’s nipples were erect in Avery’s mouth, and his tense pecs were hard as rocks.
Jizz sprayed over Thomas’s cock, which twitched as he groaned in disgust. Avery’s whole body bucked, but Thomas didn’t let go, even as Avery’s semen soaked into his crotch and dripped onto the ground at his feet. Avery kept pumping his hips, humping Thomas’s hand and Thomas’s cock, whose erection remained half-hearted. Cum lubed it up, and Thomas kept up with his slow strokes, even as his hand and his dickshaft became slick with the cream of Avery’s load.
“Oh hell,” Thomas said, his eyes opening wise. “You crazy… You payin’ me for real, right? This ain’t a trick?”
“I promise. Thirty bucks an hour,” Avery said. He took a deep breath as Thomas dropped Avery’s dick, stroking himself off instead. “Wait,” Avery said. He put his limpening cock back next to Thomas’s hard manhood, and Avery scooped up as much of the cum as he could from Thomas’s dark blond pubic hair. Thomas didn’t seem to realize how soaked his crotch was with Avery’s cum, or maybe he did and it just didn’t bother him.
“Fuck, thihty bucks an hour?! Hell yeah! I’ll do anythang for thihty bucks an hour!” Thomas said. He looked away and curled one hand over his belly as though he was nauseous, rather than look at Avery’s puddle of semen in his crotch and his own hand stroking two cocks at once. “Yee-fuckin’-haw!” Then he blushed and shut his mouth. “I’m sorry. That ain’t Christian language.” His eyes opened wide and he rushed to correct himself. “When I say I do anything fo’ thirty bucks an hour, I ain’t mean anything ‘t all. I-“
“I know,” Avery said. “I won’t hold you to that. You can say no to anything you want. And I really do have some work for you to do. I want you to put together my bed-frame in the other room.”
“I can do that.”
Thomas had stopped stroking himself off, and he looked at his hands, dripping with Avery’s jizz, as though he didn’t get how that happened. Then Avery guided his hands back and smiled at Thomas’s awkward fumbling with his own cum-slickened cock.
The cum on his hand was rapidly cooling. Avery wanted to eat it, but it was his own cum, which was always less appealing than someone else’s. So he grabbed for Thomas’s nipples again.
He had taut pecs, which flexed and tightened when Avery touched them. He smeared the creamy cum all over Thomas’s torso, savoring the feel of his short, fine blond hairs. Thomas had closed his eyes, so he didn’t immediately notice that Avery was smearing cum all over his chest. When he did, he groaned in disgust but didn’t complain, not even when Avery started licking it off.
“Gonna git my nut now, boi,” he murmured softly. His dick was fully hard now, and Avery stroked it with both hands. “You ready? You really want it?”
His body flexed, his shaft pulsating in Avery’s grip. Avery wasn’t expecting him to cum from a handjob at all, much less so quickly, but as soon as Avery had nutted and focused on stroking Thomas off with both hands, Thomas’s cock rocketed right to readiness. The smell of his funk filled the air.
Thomas turned beet-red just before he came. His knees weakened, and he bucked his whole hefty body, nearly knocking Avery over when he grabbed Avery’s shoulders for support. His muscles roiled. He clenched his teeth, then opened his mouth to gasp, then clenched his lips shut again.
“Got-damn, boy! Yeah, thass right!” he cried out, then looked regretful about his blasphemy.
Hot cum sprayed right into Avery’s crotch, a fat load of it that spread over Avery’s dick and balls and soaked into his pubic hair. It coated his limp dick and dripped onto the floor, though Avery again caught most of it in the palm of his hand. Thomas was young enough that he shot an enormous load, more than Avery could even hold in his palm, and more and more kept on coming.
As Thomas ejaculated, he pumped his hips back and forth, humping Avery’s hands. Avery loved holding onto an orgasmic alpha by the dickmeat, cuz he could squeeze it and stroke it and send waves of pleasure through his alpha’s body. Thomas grunted and groaned, his red neck turning redder, the ruddy color of his skin spreading to his tan face and his pale chest.
“You got a nice healthy meat,” Avery said. “Nice and big, thick.”
Thomas opened his mouth and sighed. “Damn, boy, that weren’t bad. I-” He stopped himself when he saw Avery about to suck the cum out of the palm of his hand, even as Thomas was not quite done cumming, and more kept leaking out into Avery’s paws. Thomas looked queasy, but he didn’t complain as Avery let go of his dick and brought his hand up to his mouth. That salty puddle disappeared past Avery’s lips, and Avery gulped down every drop. Thomas gagged uncontrollably as though he tasted it himself.
“Damn… You some kinda nasty,” Thomas said. He threw his hands in the air, the motion making his now limpening dick jiggle and sway. “Nothin’ personal. But you best get right with Jesus.” He took a deep breath. “Okay, where this work at?”
Avery nodded. He licked his hand clean, then pointed to the bedroom. The frame was halfway put-together.
“Can I take a shower first?” Thomas asked, looking down at the shiny layer of cum over his chest. He was sweaty as well, both because it was warm in here and from his sexual exertion. Avery licked the sweat off his biceps. His dick still hung out the fly of his overalls, but he tucked it away at last.
Avery almost said yes, as long as he got to watch, but he decided not to. He wanted to watch Thomas work with the smell of cum all over him — he was paying a lot of money for Thomas’s time, after all. Plus, he figured that this way, Thomas would get good and sweaty just like Avery liked his men.
And hopefully, he’d be ready for another handjob later.
“No,” Avery said. “I’m paying for your time to do work. You can shower on your own time.”
“Fine. Yes, sir,” he said. He shrugged, but he got right to work. He knelt down to examine the partially assembled bedframe. “Ain’t surprised. My pa don’t let the colored boys shower ‘till the end of the day neither. And then they gotta use the green barn shower like a cow.” Avery watched his muscles flex as he figured out what needed to be done and quickly got the frame screwed together — he was as good at tools as he had suggested. Avery helped him keep the frame still, but it looked like Thomas would have been able to do it by himself if he needed to.
So maybe the instructions were right, it was a one-man job. It just had to be one strong, handy man. Not Avery. The screws remained superfluous though.
Then Avery had him fix the back door — Avery had bought a replacement doorknob, since the lock often got stuck, but he had never gotten around to replacing it. He rarely used the back door anyway.
By the time he was done with that, the cum on Thomas’s chest was no longer visible, covered with a fine layer of sweat that made those short blond hairs stick to his skin. Thomas grunted as he tested the door by locking it and slamming it shut over and over.
“‘S good,” he said. He looked at the time. “I been here fo’ one hour and fo’ty minutes. You gonna pay out for two hours or what?”
Avery shrugged. “I might have something you could do for twenty minutes,” he said.
Thomas smiled. “You wanna mess ’round again? You gonna gimme another handjob?”
“Not exactly,” Avery said. He sunk to his knees and kissed Thomas’s dick through his overalls.
Thomas jumped back as though it hurt, then laughed and said, “Oh, you like swallowin’ dick?”
Avery smiled — Thomas sounded surprised by that. His crotch stank of stale cum, which made Avery even hornier. He wondered how much of that smell came from the orgasm he had just had one hour and forty minutes ago, and how much came from those circlejerks with the “colored boys” his father hired.
“I love swallowin’ dick,” Avery said. “You ever get dome before?”
“Hell yeah!” Thomas said. Then he paused, blushing intensely. “I mean… Not often. I ain’t married, reckon. I did… I done got a blowjob or two in my day, but I ain’t proud.” His smile turned beaming. “I usedta have a girl who loved sucking dick. But she said it tasted like sweat, and she ain’t like that.”
“Won’t bother me none. I love sweat,” Avery said.
“Nasty.” Thomas looked away as Avery undid his overalls, letting them fall to his ankles. Then he swallowed that fat dick in one smooth motion, getting almost the whole shaft in his mouth before it began to get hard. It tasted like the stale jizz from the handjob a little awhile ago.
This time he did get hard right away. Judging from the expression on his face, he was shocked by how good this felt, and maybe his cock remained painfull sensitive from his recent orgasm. He stared down in open-mouthed amazement, as his dick leaked precum down Avery’s throat. His balls twitched with anticipation.
He had an enormous cock, and once it got hard, it was too thick for Avery to deep-throat effectively. He was very good at throating down alphas, but even he had his limits. The more he was unable to swallow, the more forcefully Thomas’s body humped his throat. He even gripped Avery’s head to better force his meat down Avery’s gullet.
Soon Thomas was throating Avery, not in a violent way, but more of an unknowingly instinctual way, like he couldn’t help but hold his scalp in place to treat his mouth like a pussy. Precum coated Avery’s tongue, while Avery used both hands to stroke him off at the root. He could see those fine blond hairs standing up — Thomas had goosebumps, his whole body shaking with excitement and anxiety. Thomas even tweaked one of his own nipples then blushed again and stopped as though there was something wrong with that.
“I got something better for us to do,” Avery said. “You wanna… go all the way?”
Thomas blushed and looked away. “You mean…?”
Avery undid his own jeans and bent over, making sure not to let Thomas see his cock — he had discovered that men were more likely to go along with anal if they didn’t have to actually look at a penis. Avery kept his ass smooth; if you didn’t look anywhere else, it might look rather like a woman’s ass. He didn’t want to ruin that impression.
“How do I do it?” Thomas asked. He whispered, glancing in every direction in case someone was peering in the windows. He looked at Avery’s ass as though he had never seen anything like it.
Avery was on all fours, and he lifted his ass up so it would line up with Thomas’s crotch. This wasn’t an ideal position for himself, Avery thought, but it would be best for Thomas — Avery very much wanted Thomas to enjoy this so he might come back.
“Just let me handle it,” Avery said. “You do what comes naturally.”
“You makin’ me feel things, boy…-” He sounded momentarily threatening, a growling, menacing quality to his voice, as his naive farmboy demeanor momentarily vanished. Then he groaned as his rod pushed into Avery’s ass. Despite his claims, Avery got the strong impression that this was not Thomas’s first time.
A twinge of pain hit Avery, which made his dick get hard as well, but he focused on pushing his ass back onto Thomas’s crotch. Avery’s pain and pressure grew worse, but as Thomas began humping, it got better and better, and soon Avery’s prostate twinkled into action. Pleasure washed over Avery’s bones, and his dick spasmed, leaking precum even though no one was touching it.
But then someone was. Thomas’s hands crept around Avery’s body and took hold of his dick. He gave it a stroke with both hands, then let go. He hesitated before continuing.
“Sorry, ‘m I sposedta do that?”
Avery tried to say yes, but all that came out was an orgasmic groan. The pressure in his ass was too intense to say anything, and he was shocked that Thomas was giving a reacharound. Exquisite bliss flowed through Avery’s veins.
“My pa say if you ever ram a man in the ass, you better have the common courtesy to give a reacharound,” Thomas said. “I ain’t know what a reacharound was… But I guess this is it, huh?”
“Yeah, you got it…” Avery said breathlessly.
Avery was unable to stop himself from cumming any longer. First he arched his back, very nearly standing up so he could twist his face behind himself and lick Thomas’s cum-stained pecs, while semen flew from his rod, once again coating Thomas’s hands. Avery’s spasming body squeezed around the cock in his rear.
Thomas didn’t notice because he was about to cum as well. His dick spasmed and stopped moving deep within Avery’s ass, pausing while it spewed a massive load. Then he resumed humping, harder and more passionate now, possessing the barbarous violence of an alpha male — Avery loved that transition, the shift from naive juvenile to dominant alpha; he had awakened the macho in this farmboy, and now he rammed with so much power that Avery could only scream in pain and passion.
He didn’t stop even as the cum stopped flowing. He used his hands more forcefully now, to mold Avery back into a doggystyle position with his head upraised. In the process he spread Avery’s cum from his own fingers to every corner of Avery’s body. He seemed devoid of reluctance, even though Avery’s jizz now covered much of his frame.
Finally he was done humping. He pulled out, having made Avery’s asshole into a frothy mess. A soup of santorum spilled onto the carpet. Avery gasped and begged wordlessly, while Thomas whistled in disgust. “That ain’t nice. You really into this?”
Avery collapsed onto the floor in a sweaty mess. He let out a choked cry of orgasmic pleasure.
“Hey mister, you okay? Did I do that wrong?”
“No, you did fine,” Avery said breathlessly.
“Oh. Okay. Anythang else you want from me, sir?”
“Go take a shower,” Avery said as he crawled onto weakened knees. “I’ll get your money. Come back tomorrow, I’ll have more work to do.”
He hesitated but beamed bashfully, his face a bright red. “Yessir.”
Avery paused. “No, wait. Next week. I need time to recover.”

Breaking Alpha

Madhu is cooking meth for a biker gang, who supply him with a bodyguard. That’s Knuckle, a terrifying brute of a man who just might have a softer side, one that Madhu is excited to explore.

Will Madhu survive alongside Knuckle’s brand of massive masculinity?!

Read it now as an ebook!

Or read the whole thing here!

Madhu Sharma was always nervous when he came to “work”. He was only just starting to see it as a job at all, but that’s what it was. He certainly didn’t enjoy doing it, and he only did it for the money. He was in desperate need of cash.
It sure felt like a job. It was only missing an obnoxious HR person to make him go on team-building workshops.
Madhu had started cooking meth because he needed money. It wasn’t his plan to make money that way. He had simply graduated with a degree in chemistry and no way to make money with it. The only people hiring a chemist were drug dealers.
He had also had nowhere to live, and the Jagged Right — a biker gang here in Smashwood Trailer Park — provided a solution to both of his problems. They gave Madhu a trailer to live in, and they paid him a weekly, tax-free stipend to make meth. He was doing better than most of the people he went to college with; they struggled to find jobs with major multinationals, while Madhu was rolling in the dough from the beginning.
It was easy, really. There was a lot to the process, but Madhu was well-practiced at it.
So Madhu was always nervous when he came to work. That simply entailed leaving his trailer and walking to the trailer next door. The trailer park was closed to outsiders, with bikers sitting by the gate to alert when visitors arrived — uninvited visitors were treated with extreme suspicion.
When Knuckle arrived, Madhu was terrified. Even as Math (the head biker in charge around here) explained, Madhu couldn’t pay attention because his heart fluttered. Knuckle was a giant, nearly seven feet tall, and built like a linebacker. He had a mean, craggy face that made him look older than he was, and his tanned skin was marked with what looked like prison tats.
“Knuckle here is gonna be your bodyguard. Don’t go nowhere without him,” Math had said, and that was it. That was the only explanation Madhu was given.
Knuckle grunted. He ignored Madhu. He went to the door to the trailer and stood there, unmoving, like a statue. He remained motionless for a few minutes, but eventually he walked around the perimeter of the trailer. He tried each of the windows, which had been sealed shut already.
Only then did he come in and speak. “What is the opening on the roof?” His voice was deep and gravelly. He was so big, with cavernous lungs, that he was hard to understand, his voice resonating and bouncing around in his body.
He wore only a sleeveless shirt, revealing a crude network of colorful tattoos. It wasn’t an “arm-sleeve”, it was more haphazard than that, but it coated his left arm and much of his right, and more tattoos — including what appeared to be a couple of weasels humping — were visible on his chest. He even had a network of camouflage designs on the side of his neck, which was so short and thick it was barely visible. He pointed up at the roof of the trailer.
“Uh… That? The ventilation system?” Madhu pointed upwards. His heart skipped a beat. “It’s, uh… ventilation.”
“It ain’t secure. Someone could get in.”
Madhu blushed. “Uh, well, maybe, but we need ventilation. These chemicals put out toxic fumes. This trailer would be a lethal gas chamber in an hour or two if you made it airtight.”
He frowned. He was quiet for a long time. He looked Madhu up and down. Knuckle furrowed his brow.
“Fine.” He frowned. “I will fix it.”
Madhu’s heart skipped a beat. Knuckle was so scary it hurt. He had an amazing body though — oh god those muscles, Madhu had to suppress a leer and a lick of his teeth. Madhu wondered if Knuckle understood that the ventilation system was absolutely required. He seemed to think Madhu was making that up, that the chemicals weren’t really poisonous.
This was not some debatable liberal agenda though, Madhu thought. If made airtight, this trailer could be used as a gas chamber to execute inmates; it was highly toxic; it would make his lungs melt if the concentration got high enough. The whole trailer could explode too. Madhu didn’t think Knuckle got that.
Sure enough, soon, Knuckle was up on the roof banging away. Madhu stepped outside. Should I confront him? Am I allowed to? Should I go to Math and complain? If he blocks up the ventilation, I’m going to die.
“Uh, Knuckle… what, uh… what are you doing?”
Knuckle came to the edge of the roof of the trailer and looked down. He scowled, then jumped to the ground. He grabbed Madhu and dragged him back into the trailer.
Knuckle grunted. He tossed Madhu into the trailer. Madhu was shocked because that had happened so fast, and because he was more than a little turned on by the feel of Knuckle’s muscles. He felt like his body was filled with writhing snakes, Madhu thought, and his sweat tasted salty and clean and delicious.
“What-?”
“You gotta stay in here, man. It ain’t secure for you to be off wanderin’ around,” Knuckle said. “When you on duty, you gotta stay in here.”
“Oh, uh… okay.” Madhu thought he should argue or leave or go get Math, but he didn’t. He was worried he’d get in trouble. He could always talk to Math about it later. Did he really even need security? He hadn’t needed this kind of security up until now.
Knuckle nodded. He again paused to look Madhu up and down, and he even licked his lips. He almost looked like he was aroused, but Madhu assumed that wasn’t it. Knuckle left the trailer and went back to the roof.
Madhu returned to his lab. The day was almost done anyway, and then he’d need to leave the reaction to catalyze all night. He was about to leave the trailer when the door opened and Knuckle walked in.
“I installed a lock. It can still ventilate,” Knuckle said, “But no one can break in.”
“Oh. Cool, okay,” Madhu said. He blushed.
“I do not want anyone to hurt you.” He glowered, sucking on his teeth and chewing his lower lip.
“Right. Thanks.” Madhu cringed, the situation suddenly too intense for him to think. Knuckle peered deep into his eyes. The aroma of his unwashed scent turned Madhu on.
He had no way of knowing that Knuckle was thinking similar things. He found his eyes drawn to Madhu’s perky young body all day. He had a delightfully feminine shape to his ass, and though his voice wasn’t obviously girlish, it was flamboyant and lilting and it made Knuckle’s dick twitch.
Madhu smiled nervously, and Knuckle’s eyes opened wide. He wanted him bad.
I could just pretend this is prison. This trailer is about the size of a prison cell. Knuckle refused to let himself consider that. Yet when he looked down at his feet, he saw that his dick was out. Did I take that out? Knuckle didn’t remember doing so, but he surely would have noticed if Madhu unzipped his pants.
“Didja take my dick out?”
Madhu gasped. “No!” He thought he might cry. What was he even being accused of? “You took your dick out like two seconds ago!”
Knuckle grunted. He stood there, not sure what he should do next. All he could think about was getting his rocks off. He hadn’t blown a nut off in what felt like forever. The funny thing was he hadn’t been horny until he saw Madhu.
Another grunt escaped from his lips when Madhu wrapped one hand around his cock. Knuckle moaned. Madhu grinned, his anxiety slowly diminishing now that it was more apparent what Knuckle wanted.
Though Madhu would have enjoyed getting rammed, he knew better than to try to push his luck. He still wasn’t even sure Knuckle was comfortable getting a handjob — he hadn’t said no, hadn’t made Madhu stop, and he was the one who took his dick out in the first place, which all seemed like pretty clear signals. But Madhu didn’t want to push his luck by trying to jerk off the brutish giant. Knuckle was terrifyingly massive, and he had that big bull head like an ape. Madhu didn’t want to do anything that might make him uncomfortable.
So he just stroked his cock to full erection — that took only a few seconds because Knuckle was unbelievably horny to begin with. Soon his dick was hard as iron, throbbing like its own living entity. Madhu could feel his heartbeat.
It twitched, and Knuckle moaned. His deep voice rang out. “Why you doin’ that?”
Madhu said softly. “Do you want me to stop?”
Knuckle growled and gripped Madhu’s hand with both of his big meaty paws. He closed his eyes and began to pump his hips, plowing Madhu’s hand with that massive manhood. His balls swayed beneath him and slapped Madhu’s side as he stroked.
It was an exhilarating experience for Madhu, exciting and frightening at the same time, like a poorly-maintained roller coaster. He moved his head closer to the dingy sleeveless shirt, and inhaled deeply of Knuckle’s musky scent. One of his hands crept up, under that shirt, massaging his belly before reaching his chest.
His pectorals twitched and flexed beneath Madhu’s touch, and Knuckle grunted. He rammed Madhu’s hand hard, like he wanted to punish it. Madhu could do little more than squeeze and hold on until Knuckle finally reached his orgasm.
“Ah….” Knuckle bit his lip as pleasure overwhelmed him, and cum sprayed onto Madhu’s leg and hand.
The smell of salty-sour cum filled the air. Knuckle gasped, and his whole hefty body leaned forward. His cock pressed against Madhu’s hip, still pulsating, spraying wad after wad up over Madhu’s shirt and even onto his chin.
“Oh-” Madhu blushed. He kept his hand in position, both of Knuckle’s hands gripping it so firmly it hurt a little. =
Finally, with cum still shooting out of his dick, Knuckle leaned far enough that Madhu couldn’t support him. He leaned against the table, then a chair, and then sunk to the floor. Knuckle grabbed the chair before he fell — which was good because he would have toppled onto Madhu, probably hurt him and possibly knocked over some of the chemicals.
“Damn…” Knuckle said. He stood, dick limpening as it still dripped a few droplets of creamy cum onto Madhu’s face.
“Hmmm…” Madhu blushed and sat up. “That was…-“
“Shut up.” Knuckle grunted. “You seduced me. That ain’t right. I ain’t into that poervert nonsense. I don’t do that. Don’t seduce me no more.”
Then he turned around and walked out of the trailer, leaving Madhu there to clean up and savor the sweet scent of Knuckle’s alpha male body. Madhu sighed.
Maybe, he thought, this job won’t be as bad as I had thought.
Madhu assumed that the handjob was going to be kept secret. Something like this could only be on the downlow, he thought. That just seemed like a reasonable guess. He didn’t even think about it. It wasn’t like he socialized with the trailer trash of Smashwood Trailer Park anyway.
But the next morning, he saw grimy rednecks — the shirtless swastika-ed perpetual drunks who spent their days searching for smokeable cigarette butts in city ashtrays — laughing at him, and making murmured jokes about Knuckle. Knuckle ignored them but wrinkled his nose a little. He remained standing at the entrance to the trailer, eyeing the addicts and dealer that came through to buy meth. He wore the same clothes as yesterday.
Since Madhu knew he hadn’t told anyone, it could only have been Knuckle.
“Freak! Ugly-ass Knuckle…”
“Who you gonna ramrod today, booty bandit?!”
The grimy rednecks (who were constantly around though Madhu wasn’t aware of any purpose here) laughed at Knuckle, but he didn’t respond in the slightest. He grimaced, his squat neck turning ruddy at first before he relaxed.
But he didn’t say anything to Madhu all day. He didn’t even look at him. It was a lonely day — the only person Madhu talked to was the clerk at the drug store where he went, Knuckle in tow, to buy more cough medicine.
Knuckle got drunk on Saturday. That was Knuckle’s day off, and Madhu’s too. Madhu spent the day in his trailer as he normally did, reading, trying not to think about his life. He heard Knuckle getting drunk all day outside. He could hear the men laughing at Knuckle too.
Knuckle’s low voice rumbled, his words slurred. But Madhu couldn’t make out his words, just the other’s response.
Madhu tried not to listen. He felt a little bad for Knuckle, but Knuckle didn’t seem to mind. He hadn’t even attempted to keep it a secret.
He was just about to go to bed when Knuckle drunkenly stumbled into his trailer. Knuckle belched loudly, his sweat-soaked body gleaming. Blood trickled from his crooked nose.
“Jzzzheeerkk meee offf.” Knuckle pulled his camo pants down, waving his dick in front of Madhu’s face. He stepped forward but toppled to the floor so hard Madhu yelped and ran to him.
“Are you okay?”
Knuckle rolled over. His massive dick was soft, blood now pouring from his nose. Madhu sighed and stopped the bleeding, while Knuckle drunkenly squirmed. He kept demanding Madhu jerk him off, but he didn’t make any effort to force Madhu’s head down.
“I’m not giving you dome when you’re this drunk. It’s gross. You’ll probably puke on me. Or pass out on me,” Madhu said. He wasn’t sure Knuckle heard or accepted that, but he didn’t argue — or if he did, he was too drunk to be clear.
It took ten minutes for Knuckle’s nose to stop bleeding — he still had a big nasty bruise on his cheek from the fall though — and then another hour and a half for Madhu to get Knuckle up into bed. By then, Madhu was exhausted. He put a glass of water on the bed next to Knuckle and climbed in on the other side.
Knuckle was out cold, like sleeping next to a big warm stone. Madhu fell asleep nuzzling his bicep, one hand resting on his meaty chest.
It was the most satisfying sleep Madhu had had in years, since before he graduated college. He didn’t wake up until early the next morning, when Knuckle slid back into bed — Madhu hadn’t awoken when he left the bed, but he did when he came back.
Knuckle was sober now. His head hurt, but he wasn’t hungover. He had never been a big drinker, and spending time behind bars meant his tolerance had gone down, so it didn’t take too much for Knuckle to pass out last night. He then showered, drank some water and ate dry bread in Madhu’s kitchen. He wasn’t drunk anymore, just a little queasy.
Now as he slid under the covers again, Madhu’s smooth fingers clutching his belly, Knuckle felt well again. He shushed Madhu — even though he hadn’t said anything — and gripped the back of his head.
“Good mornin’-“
“Shush, I said.” Knuckle guided Madhu’s head, gently but firmly, to his crotch. His dick was limp, and it smelled of spilled beer and man-sweat. Madhu inhaled deeply of it.
He picked up the shaft and kissed Knuckle’s cocktip before driving it into his mouth. He suckled on the tip. He began to get the idea of what Knuckle wanted — he wanted Madhu to resist a little. He wanted to be in charge, overcoming Madhu’s reluctance.
So Madhu pretended to have difficulty with the size of Knuckle’s cock — he didn’t have to pretend much, because it was big and extremely girthy, but Madhu had handled enough big cocks to deep-throat it. He choked and hesitated, and Knuckle clucked his tongue, pushing his head down deeper.
He covered Madhu with a sheet. It felt like he was with his prison wife again, Knuckle thought, since he couldn’t see anything but that sheet and Madhu’s writhing body beneath it, all that mattered was Knuckle and the potent pleasure coursing through his veins. He raised his hips, firmly plowing his meat down Madhu’s throat.
Despite the size of Knuckle’s cock, it didn’t hurt a bit, and Madhu even moaned around the cock as it filled his throat. Madhu tried to jack himself off, but found that he needed to use both hands to stroke Knuckle’s dick. Madhu’s own cock rubbed over Knuckle’s leg, and when Knuckle didn’t complain, Madhu began dry-humping him.
“Ugh….” Knuckle grunted and his whole body twitched. He used both hands on Madhu’s head, holding him in place as wad after wad of sweet cum flowed down Madhu’s throat.
Madhu shot his own load right onto Knuckle’s leg — Knuckle barely noticed — while guzzling down every drop of Knuckle’s own juices. It coated his belly and its body heat seeped into his flesh. Madhu gurgled, choking on the intense flow of cum down his throat.
At last, they were both done. Madhu fell limp and slid off Knuckle’s cock. He curled up next to him on the bed, kissed him on the neck and cuddled up with him.
“Thanks-“
“Shush.” Knuckle turned his head. He placed one hand over Madhu’s mouth. “No talking. I’m going back to sleep.”
The next morning, Madhu awoke happy and content. Knuckle was already awake, just waiting for Madhu to disentangle himself from his arms. Then Knuckle yawned and went to the trailer door.
That was where the officers of the Northern Florida Methamphetamine Task Force were waiting.
They streamed into the trailer, putting Knuckle in handcuffs and roughing him up. Madhu didn’t look like such a thug, so they treated him a little better, but still, he was marched out of the trailer park in handcuffs and driven away, in a different van than Knuckle was in.
So that was the end of Madhu’s foray into drug manufacture. He didn’t last very long. He would have been better off hustling for multinational jobs like his pharmacy school classmates.
Maybe it was always fated to end like this. Madhu did his part though, he cooperated with the cops arrested him, but he didn’t tell them anything. He let his lawyer do the talking. He already planned on pleading guilty. His lawyer said he’d do okay because he didn’t have a record like all the others. He would look like a nice man who had been forced into manufacturing meth.
That was small comfort to Madhu, who couldn’t hold his own in prison like the other Jagged Right could. He thought they would protect him — they said they would — but then the bikers and rednecks were all transferred from jail to prison, whereas Madhu was not seen as enough of a risk to bother. So Madhu stayed there there in jail, with no one to protect him from the legion of drunks, thugs and ruffians who came through.
His first week was bad. Madhu considered killing himself. But his lawyer had said he’d be out in a few years. He thought he could handle that. He might even be able to start a new life when he left. He thought about writing a book, maybe he could make some money on the outside as a writer.
But first, he needed to survive.
When his cell door opened and Knuckle walked in, Madhu’s first thought was that Knuckle was here to kill him. Maybe Knuckle thought Madhu would squeal, or maybe he blamed Madhu for the trailer park being busted, or maybe he just wanted to kill.
“What are you doing here-?”
“They said we gotta go on trial together. Cuz we was arrested together.” Knuckle’s gravelly voice filled the cell. The door slammed shut behind him. Knuckle came into the cell and scowled at Madhu. Madhu sat at the little writing desk in the cell, watching as Knuckle moved all of Madhu’s things from the top bunk to the bottom. “I’m taking the top bunk. That’s for real men.”
“Oh, uh… okay.” Madhu thought it was best not to fight about that. “I guess I’m glad I got you as a cellmate. I-“
“Shut up. Why you gotta talk about everything?”
“I guess… That’s just how I am.” Madhu opened his mouth to continue explaining, but he realized Knuckle wouldn’t want that. Madhu just fell quiet.
Then Knuckle began working out. He didn’t tell Madhu to move out of his way, but Madhu got the message anyway. Knuckle was so big he took up all the space in the cell. Madhu could do little more than crouch in his bunk and watch Knuckle’s massive body move.
He did push-ups until he couldn’t anymore, and then he did a series of lunges and lifts, using whatever he could find as a weight. He even made Madhu climb up on his back and hold on while Knuckle did a round of deep-knee squats.
That was what he did when the lights finally flicked out. Madhu was so surprised he almost fell off Knuckle’s back, sliding over his sweat-soaked bare flesh.
“They don’t give any warning before turning out the lights,” Madhu said. “In movies, they always announce it.”
“This ain’t a movie,” Knuckle said. Then he wrapped his big bearish arms around Madhu and plowed his tongue down his throat. He brought Madhu to the floor, his heavy body pinning him down.
Madhu squealed and squirmed out of sheer shock. He had assumed Knuckle would want dome at some point — he’d always said he didn’t do that kind of thing except in prison, which was a lie, but Madhu figured the “except in prison” part was probably not a lie. But he didn’t think Knuckle would kiss him.
“Boy, I been lustin’ for you wit’chu since I first saw you. You got pretty all over, and I wanna taste it.” Knuckle growled, slathering Madhu’s face in kisses. He moved to Madhu’s neck, which was long and slender. It felt so smooth, like porcelain, Knuckle thought. His dick twitched. It was so hard it hurt. “I been waiting for this for a long time.”
“Waiting for what?”
“Waiting to lust fo’ you. I don’t mess wit’ males outside of prison,” Knuckle said. “But in here, wit’ the lights out… That’s where lust is real.” He whispered into Madhu’s ear and sucked his earlobe. “I wanna ram you so bad, boy. Get my dick wet.”
He mounted Madhu’s chest and jabbed his rock-hard dick into Madhu’s mouth with incredible urgency, like his life depended on getting his dick in there as soon as possible. He moaned right away.
Hey keep it down in there! 37A, if you’re plowing, I don’t wanna see it or hear it and I definitely don’t wanna smell it!
“Ssssssssssshhh….” Knuckle chuckled throatily, his shushing disappearing into a baritone growl aimed right in Madhu’s ear. “We gotta be private.” He kept shushing Madhu like that even though, once again, Knuckle was the one making noise.
When Knuckle was good and hard, he slid down behind Madhu. He kissed him on the lips, sucking up all the precum and spit that clung to Madhu’s cheeks.
“Oh god…” Madhu whimpered. The bunk they shared was narrow, barely big enough for one person, much less two. But they both laid on their side, and Knuckle laid with his back flat against the cold concrete wall.
His cock rubbed between Madhu’s cheeks. Knuckle reached up to his own bunk for his sheet and blanket. The cell was cold, so he laid it out on top of both he and Madhu. Madhu snuggled deep in his arms as he finally managed to feel warm.
No fighting! Are you fighting in there?
That was about the only thing the guards would do anything about at night, so Madhu heard them scatter away from the central control area in the cell block. More grunts and bellowing could be heard too. Somone was fighting in another cell.
“I guess we can make a little noise now,” Knuckle said. His deep voice was impossibly loud, echoic in the tiny room, resonating around in Madhu’s ear. Madhu shuddered and rubbed his ass over Knuckle’s pulsating cock.
“Yeah… Will you be gentle?”
“Yes, baby, I be real gentle,” Knuckle said. He kissed Madhu on the back of the head. “I been waitin’ so long to get inside you…”
His dick slipped in, moistened and lubed by Madhu’s spit. There wasn’t a bit of pain, which astonished Madhu — Knuckle’s dick was so thick it seemed there had to be a little pain, but there was only an incredible, overwhelming pleasure.
Either Madhu or Knuckle must have cried out, because inmates in other cells all laughed, but neither were aware — Knuckle grunted and snorted as he drilled his dick in, ignoring the increasingly loud jeers from the other cells.
“I hear some marital bliss over there! Woop-woop!”
“Honeymoon!”
“Who is it? Raymont?”
“Nah, I’m spankin’ it over here, I got that big-butt magazine-!”
They all laughed until they shushed each other. The guards were involved in breaking up the fight, so the inmates in this corner of the cell block were emboldened.
But then Madhu’s pressure grew too great for him to pay attention to their words. It was all a meaningless blur of shouts and profanity, and whistle squeals, but above all that, Madhu was aware of Knuckle’s body covering him, tongue coating his face as his dick rammed in and out. Madhu’s had never been plowed as hard, but somehow he had never been rammed as easily and softly at the same time. He took it all, and his dick throbbed in Knuckle’s hand. Madhu had no way of knowing it but, for Knuckle — based on his previous prison experience — giving a reacharound was the ultimate form of intimacy behind bars. It was akin to a proposal of marriage.
Madhu didn’t know any of that, and his whole body melted in Knuckle’s arms as he reached the most intense orgasm of his life. Cum sprayed into his body, great rivers of it flowing into him. He felt it coating his insides, as Madhu shot his own load onto the floor of the cell.
“Oh god, I been beggin’ for a chance to get in that ass-” Knuckle kept his mouth open, intending to keep talking, but all that came out was a chest-rattling roar. He had never shot so much, not even with his previous prison wife.
At last, Knuckle fell limp, his heavy body resting on Madhu. For a moment, Madhu couldn’t breathe due to his heaviness, then Knuckle rolled back onto his side.
Madhu sighed and clutched him close. “Thanks, Knuckle.”
“No,” Knuckle said. “Thank you.”

The Hick

Ray is investigating a poacher when he winds up in the legendary Smashwood Trailer Park. That’s where he meets up with the raunchiest hick around: Cody Lankford! Cody is a filthy redneck who always says “a mouth is a mouth”, which is a philosophy Ray can get behind… or underneath!

Can Ray find what he’s looking for?!

Read it now as an ebook!

Or read the whole thing here!

Ray parked in the public lot facing the Smashwood Trailer Park in Bunson, Arkansas. He got out of his car and stretched. It had been a long drive from Little Rock.
This area was beautiful, he thought. He had passed verdant hills and sun-choked meadows that rolled into the horizon like thunderclouds. Dense forests with layers of old growth and explosions of wildlife scattered along the roadside, where little campgrounds and isolated farms were the only landmarks for miles.
But Ray wasn’t here just to sightsee. He was here for business.
When he headed into the trailer park, he was first struck by the man in boxer shorts staring at him. He was tattooed, smudged with dirt all over as though he had been used as a sponge to clean a dirty window. His hair was pale brown and hung back in a mullet that extended well below his shoulders. He wore only boxers and was covered in soap suds — he was bathing himself with a hose.
Ray nodded across the ditch that demarcated the end boundary of the trailer park. The bathing redneck nodded back. He was lean and lanky, ropy-muscled, suds covering his dusky tattoos. He rinsed, getting some of that dirt off and soaking his boxers in water and soap. He still had smudges of dirt all over, and his tanned skin looked the color of dirt anyway — or maybe he wasn’t tanned, and the dirt had been ground into his skin until he was the color of dried-out-clay.
“Howdy,” Ray said with a grin.
“Howdy stranger,” said the man, Cletus, who scratched his balls nonchalantly, as though he bathed here in these nearly-translucent white boxers every day. They were threadbare and plastered to his ropy legs with soapy water. They were plain white boxers, and, Ray suspected, prison-issue.
“I’m looking for someone named Cody Lankford,” Ray said with a smile. He extended his hand to shake, but the man just scowled. Ray added, “I’m not a police officer.”
“Don’t know ‘im.” The man turned his head away.
Ray shrugged and continued. Ray had Cody Lankford’s picture, and he was certain he was here. He thought he could find him. In any case, he didn’t believe this half-naked trashy man. Ray meandered towards a group of children playing ball. He thought maybe they would be more willing to answer. Then he heard deep-throated guffaws from the other side of a trailer.
He headed to the backside, where the trailer faced a row of trees. There stood a trio of black men. They were just as dirty as the white man upfront, wearing ratty old wifebeaters above mud-splattered jeans. One of them reeked strongly of body odor when Ray approached and wrinkled his nose.
“Whatchoo want?”
“Hey, uh, sorry for interrupting,” Ray said. They appeared to be dumping out a bucket that smelled of rubbing alcohol — was this moonshine? It looked like they were getting rid of a bad batch of moonshine. But Ray pretended not to notice. “I was looking for Cody Lankford. He-“
They all laughed, and one of the black men clutched his meaty belly beneath his wifebeater, which was formerly white but now gray like dishwater. He howled with laughter. “Cody?! You lookin’ for Cody?”
“Whatchoo want wit’ him? You studyin’ hicks?”
“He the raunchiest hick in this whole trailer park, man, you don’t want him-“
“He prolly fuckin’ a fat girl who make a face like this-” The younger black man made a funny, possibly orgasmic face, and they all guffawed. “And she got hair the color of raccoon piss, he be in there-” He pantomimed eating pussy and gagging on the taste. “Ummm…. Yum-yum, yummy in my tummy, I love eatin’ rancid snatch-“
“He prolly wallowin’ in sum mud-pit, mistuh.”
“He is nasty, right nasty. You police? He ain’t a bad fellah, just a stinky one-“
“And he loves fat-girl pussy-“
“Shut the hell up, Mane, yo’ female ain’t exactly skinny neither-“
“Least she don’t smell like a beached whale!”
“Smellin’ like a whale in the ocean ain’t that much better, Mane-“
“Like either of you two niggas ever see a whale. You never even seen the ocean-“
“He seen a whale! He eat whale pussy up!”
Ray walked away. It seemed this argument was going to continue indefinitely. He heard them laughing and arguing over who fucked fatter women. Ray had no interest in that. At least he knew he was on the right track.
He was surprised that nobody had reacted like Cody Lankford was a bad guy. They had asked if he was police, but that was probably pretty typical for around here. They hadn’t reacted like they were scared of him, or like Ray could have been a rival gangbanger, or like Ray should just run away. The inescapable conclusion was that they didn’t see Cody as a threat.
He headed deeper into the trailer park. He saw a bevy of haggard women who appeared to be smoking meth, but Ray didn’t want to talk to them — it was clear they wouldn’t give useful information anyway, they were hazed out and dim. He saw a fat man in holey white briefs guzzling vodka from a bottle as he picked shards of broken glass from his foot. But Ray just continued. He thought he should walk through the whole park before deciding on what to do next. He stopped only when he heard an engine roaring, coming closer. It was zippy, buzzy, not rumbly like a car.
It was a dirtbike.
Ray turned around just in time to see a shirtless white man in a tangled blond mullet approach on the back of a mud-splattered dirtbike. The dirtbike was slowing down, and the blond man guffawed as he came to a stop near Ray.
“Goddamn hell!” the blond man said. He hopped off the dirtbike. Ray couldn’t tell if he was talking to him, or just plain talking. It was weird to stop next to a stranger in a trailer park as though continuing a conversation with him. “It was chokin’, I swear it was chokin’ like Chucky gobblin’ cock. I gotta get back in the engine and fix it up, I don’t like it chokin’ when I’s out runnin’, swear to God! That was a good run, I say! Woo-hoo!” He looked at Ray as though he had only just now realized he didn’t know him. “Who are you?”
“I’m Ray.”
“Cody.”
“Hi, Cody,” Ray said.
Cody had deep dimples which belied the trashy look, and he was well-muscled though short, wiry like he struggled to gain weight. His hair was unwashed, his furry armpits glistening with sweat. His body was splattered with wet clumps of mud that dripped off him as he brought the dirtbike to a tattered trailer. He flopped onto a lawnchair.
There appeared to be more mud on him as well, not only the wet mud from the dirtbike ride he had just finished. He had been muddy even before then. He had never bathed from last night, when his boss made him come over to start assembling a gazebo. He had bought all the wood and the plans, and Cody started work on it until the rain got too bad and he went home.
“You Donna’s brother?” Cody asked after a brief pause, nodding towards one of the trailers next to his own. He spread his legs in his rank jeans as he settled down in his lawn chair. He pulled out a pouch of tobacco and rolling papers, and he began to roll a cigarette of his own.
“No, I don’t know Donna,” Ray said. “I think I came here to talk to you. You Cody Lankford?”
“Aaaaah, man… I swear, I know that bitch ain’t have my baby, okay? She wasn’t even pregnant like three months after we fucked, okay? I swear, I’ll do a DNA test, no pro’lem-“
“No, it’s not that,” Ray said. “Two years ago, you were arrested with a gun. A Beretta M9-“
“Hey, I did my time, man. I don’t drink neither, ask my parole officer. I see him e’ry other week. I don’t give ‘im no trouble neither, nosuh-“
“Yes, yes, that’s fine. I just wanted to know what happened to the gun.”
Cody paused and raised his eyebrows like he thought this was a trick question. “I got arrested, man. I ain’t have a license for the gun. The police took it.”
“So what happened to it?”
“It sat in a evidence locker till I pled guilty.”
“Then?”
Cody shrugged. “I dunno. Never thought about it. Don’t they auction that shit?”
“They don’t auction guns, no. Police don’t want to spread them around, and plus they can’t be sure you didn’t modify it to make it more likely to malfunction.”
“I ain’t modify shit, mothahfuckah. What’s this about?”
“A few months ago, that gun was used to kill an elephant. Someone shot the elephant nine times in the head,” Ray said. “A poacher who just wanted the ivory, left the elephant to rot in the grass. That’s what I do, I’m hunting down ivory poachers-“
“What?”
“I’m just trying to find what happened to that gun. I matched the ballistics through an Interpol search of convicted-“
“What? You accusin’ me of shootin’ a elephant?”
“No! Not you, I know you didn’t do it. I already investigated you. You don’t even have a passport.”
“That’s right, shit…”
“I guess somebody with the police department must have taken the gun,” Ray said. “Either a cop or someone in the evidence room. They probably took all the guns that were supposed to be destroyed and sold them. Do you have any thoughts on who might have done that?”
Cody’s smiling face had gone dour and frowning. He glared at Ray. “I ain’t… I don’t work wit’ police.”
“I’m not the police. I’m hoping to get a cop arrested. That’s the opposite of what police do-“
“I know. But it’s still kinda like bein’ a cop — it’s a con-undrum.” Cody sounded like he had never said that word before. “I don’t help the police arrest no one. No snitchin’ is a rule we gots around here, boy. It’s a rule we take mighty serious.” He spat on the ground, some of it landing on his ankle. He either didn’t notice or didn’t care. He took a deep drag off his home-rolled cigarette. His scruffy beard hairs wiggled as he inhaled. “I dunno if it applies if the person gettin’ arrested is a police officer too.”
“Well, I can’t arrest anyone-“
“Man, you tuggin’ on my shit and tellin’ me it ain’t a turd,” Cody said. “You workin’ to solve a crime, right? ‘Round here, man solve his own crime. If’n you think someone done killed an elephant, you take the fight to him. Don’t go gettin’ po-lice involved, nosir.”
“Okay.”
“What?”
“I’ll do that. I’m not really looking to arrest whoever this is. I’d settle for making sure everyone knows they’re an elephant poacher, and maybe kicking a little ass. What do you think?”
“Man… jerk me off,” Cody said with an absent-minded sigh. He hobbled out of his chair, his big fleshy body shaking. He flexed his biceps and punched his own palm.
“Whip it out then.”
Cody didn’t seem to be listening. He went into the trailer and rummaged around. He finally emerged with a stack of papers. “Here. The fellah who signed my evidence out of storage was named Robin Thorne — oh…” Cody had clearly just realized something, but he didn’t say it.
“What happened? You know him?”
“He… Man, I don’t like folks who pry into anothah man’s business. I just… I know he got a side business dealin’. He know folks who might could know other folks who might could buy some guns now and then. Ain’t sayin’ nothin’ more, mistuh, and you can jerk me off, shit…” Cody went pale and guffawed nervously as he realized only then that when he said “jerk ne off” a few moment ago, Ray had told him to whip it out. Cody said “jerk me off” so often it threw him for a loop that Ray had taken it literally.
“I said, whip it out,” Ray said. “You’ve been very helpful.”
Cody shifted his weight between his big meaty feet. His pecs rippled. He frowned. “What?”
“You keep demanding I jerk you off. But you have to take it out,” Ray said. “I promise I won’t let anyone know you put me onto Mr. Thorne. It’s in the court papers, so I didn’t technically need anyone to tell me. I could have found that out myself, if I had known to look.”
“Hmmm.” Cody blushed and laughed uproariously. He clutched his belly. “You serious ‘bout swallowin’ my dick, mistuh? Cuz I don’t mess around ‘bout that-“
Ray dropped to his knees right there at the side of Cody’s trailer. He opened his mouth. Then he nodded to the trailer next to it. “Maybe we should go somewhere more private-“
“Nah. Donna’s gone. She in jail for a week,” Cody said. He swaggered back and forth, trying to work up the courage to do it. He loved dome, and he even loved getting them from men — he didn’t much care — a mouth was a mouth was a mouth, after all, that was what his pappy always said.
“Oh. Okay then,” Ray said. He liked the idea of kneeling in the mud and servicing Cody’s filthy body anyway. Cody reeked of sweat, but it wasn’t foul — it was fresh, recent from the dirtbike-ride he had just finished. His jeans were more rank, like they hadn’t been washed in months. Ray could smell layers of sweat that had soaked into the denim. Mud splattered all over him, weighing down those jeans.
“You serious ‘bout swallowin’ sum dick? Sheeit, man, sheeit…” Cody cackled. He took another drag off his home-rolled cigarette and undid his fly. His cock flopped out and slapped Ray in the face. Cody chuckled, making his dick bounce up and down and jab Ray in the nose. It smelled especially strongly of crotch-sweat, filthy manhood and stale funk. Somehow a few drops of mud had gotten in there and stuck to his dickshaft.
But Ray certainly didn’t mind. He enjoyed his honkies rough-and-tumble and as dirty as they came. Cody certainly seemed to live up to his reputation as the raunchiest honky in the trailer park, so Ray put his cocktip in his mouth and suckled loudly.
“Goddamn, boy!” Cody bellowed, a little overconfidence in his voice, like he was covering up his own discomfort with bluster. He shook his ass back and forth, swaying like a stripper and making Ray follow his cock with his mouth. “You was serious ‘bout this shit. You ain’t even thinkin’ twice, swear to God. You like dirty boys?”
Ray nodded without pulling Cody’s dick out. It slowly firmed up as it rubbed against his tongue, and Ray slathered it with spit. He ran down the shaft, bit by bit, making eye contact with Cody’s shocked face the whole way, until soon he was nuzzling that coppery pubic hair that scratched at Ray’s cheeks and lips.
“Holy sheeit, boy! Goddamn!” Cody smiled. He wished he had struggled to get hard — not because he wanted to be impotent, he just wanted it to look like Cody had to concentrate. Cody’s father had once said — where Cody could overhear — that he let his buddy jerk him off on a camping trip but that it took him forever to get hard. That sounded manly, Cody had thought, like he didn’t even want to do it but his cock was powerful he couldn’t deprive someone of its salty load, so he felt obligated to oblige.
That was what Cody wanted to be like. His pa was in prison for shooting a cop on a jet-ski, but Cody still idolized him.
Ray moved to licking Cody’s shaft, his tongue curling over its thickness and sucking off the mud that had splattered there. Cody threw his head back, ran his fingers through his tangled, knotted mullet and howled. He beat on his chest, making sweat and something sour — old fruit juice or maybe beer that had spilled on his furred skin some time ago — ran down to Ray’s face. It was sweet but rancid on Ray’s tongue like hot garbage baking in a dumpster, and he guzzled it down.
Then Ray moved lower. He was in a mood for some serious raunch today, and he more he drank of Cody’s filth, the more he wanted.
Cody was shocked that Ray wanted to jerk him off. The trailer park sissy around here always made Cody shower first. That was the most common reason Cody showered — or sprayed himself with the hose, since he didn’t actually have running water in his trailer. He had sold the copper pipes for money years ago, figuring that the hose outside would do just fine.
“Hang on, hoss, lemme get a beer,” Cody said. He only ever let that local perv jerk him off when he’d been drinking, so doing it sober this time, he thought, was probably why he felt weird about it. He reached for the cooler in the shade underneath his trailer and popped the top on a can of beer. He barely drank from it, cuz he was focused on the pleasure arising from his cock.
Ray lowered his head to Cody’s balls, which were even more foul. They had a medicinal scent from the talcum powder Cody used — that was the only bit of personal hygiene he actually did even when he had no meeting with his parole officer or mother to prepare for, because his balls got mad-sweaty until it felt like they had become saltwater.
So his balls smelled and tasted of chalky medicine, though that flavor disappeared quickly in Ray’s mouth, replaced by the sour taste of sweaty balls. His sac was hairy and moist, his balls full and heavy, spreading to fill Ray’s mouth with the flavor of unadulterated, unwashed, unclean manhood.
Ray kept licking until he was sucking on Cody’s taint, sliding through his legs and necessitating Cody to spread his feet as though being arrested. Then Cody turned around. He’d never gotten anyone to lick his ass before. He never even tried — people called him a filthy hick since he was a boy — he didn’t think it was possible for someone to want to lick his ass.
It was thick and hairy and fleshy and a bit reddish from having sat on the rumbling dirtbike for so long. Ray didn’t mind the foul stink emanating from it — that, he thought, was the purest expression of manhood. He loved the struggle of getting through it, of exploring the folds of funk and stench that exploded with every tickle of his tongue into Cody’s tight crack.
“Goddam, boy, you gonna put me to shame! I think we gots a new nastiest mothahfuckah in the park!”
He’d never been rammed, fingered or even rimmed, so his asshole was tight, choked with tangled blackish-blond hairs. Ray’s tongue rammed in quickly, unceremoniously, so thick it stretched Cody’s asshole and made him grunt.
“Shit, damn! You lick like a mutt lookin’ fo’ peanut buttuh on the ground, goddamn!” Cody laughed. He couldn’t decide if it felt good. It had a certain pleasurable quality to it, a deep-burning pit of sensation that roiled within him as his prostate was stimulated for the first time. But it was also kind of like getting rammed with a moist, fleshy dildo, he thought, and there was just a bit of stretching pain.
He was so focused on that that he didn’t realize it made his dick throb and leak copious precum. Cody pounded on the wall of his own trailer, spreading his legs wider and then using one hand to spread his ass the best he could. That gave Ray perfect access to chow down on his hairy crack.
Ray’s entire face was lost in his plump asscheeks. Ray gagged a few times as he lapped at the hair that rubbed against his face. There was so much flavor here, he thought with a giggle. He could have kept tasting it all day, even if it was disgusting. The disgust, he thought, was the best part.
But Ray didn’t want to leave without getting it up the ass. He pulled away, leaving behind such moisture and a sense of desire in Cody’s undulating body that Cody didn’t even notice right away.
“Whatchoo doin’, boy? Get ya tongue back in there, swear to God-” Cody turned around and his eyes opened wide at the sight of Ray’s tight asshole beckoning. Ray backed up and rubbed his asscheeks against Cody’s shaft.
Cody grumbled. He’d only rammed a man in the ass a few times, and he had been drunk enough then he hadn’t remembered it — he only knew because his friends made fun of him for it the next day. But Cody was hard and he had never before turned down a nut.
So he grimaced, stroked his dick one time and wedged it into Ray’s asscrack. He was glad it was smooth and clean. Cody was neither of those things, but if he was going to ram a man in the ass, he was glad it was a man whose ass was smooth and pristine like Ray’s.
The one nice thing about plowing men, Cody thought, was that you could really ram into them. Wrinkling his nose and whinnying like a horse, Cody pressed down on Ray’s back to keep him in position.
“Gettin’ in ya dirt road now, boy, damn! Gimme ya hands!” Cody took Ray’s hands in his and held onto them, forcing Ray to lay his head on the muddy ground with his ass in the air. Cody slipped his cocktip in and shook his head, making his mullet waver. “Goddamn, boy, don’t fight me now! If you want me to stop, say it!”
“Don’t stop! Oh god, don’t stop!”
Cody had dropped his beer, which now spilled out. He frowned — he had spilled most of his first beer of the day. It put him in a foul mood because he couldn’t afford “enough” beer, so he often had to buy that disgusting moonshine from the black men in the front of the park — and that stuff, he thought, would eventually make him go blind. So he didn’t want to waste beer, even this piss-cheap nasty shit that spilled out into the mud and trickled into Ray’s face.
Cody’s bare foot was just inches from Ray’s face. He lifted Ray’s ass to use it like a sex-toy, ramming his dick in and squealing with delight as Ray squirmed beneath him. It felt better than any female he’d ever been with, Cody thought as his cock slid all the way in and out with just the right amount of resistance, enough to make Ray clench and send waves of pleasure through Cody’s body.
A howl and a hoot escaped from Cody’s chest. He tried to spit on his dick to provide more lube, but he plowed back and forth too energetically for that, moving all around the muddy grass between his trailer and Donna’s. Ray could do little more than undulate with pleasure as he was dragged this way and that by the asshole.
Someone he ended up mostly underneath Donna’s trailer, in the little crawlspace there surrounded by water pipes and electrical wires. Cody hadn’t meant to go under here, it was just where he had ended up, and it felt right, hiding underneath a trailer in the dirt. Ray’s face was pressed into the dirt, smashing onto a worm as it tried to wriggle away.
“Oh god! Shit!” Ray shouted out loud, the sound resonant and ringing in the little crawlspace. He could barely reach his dick, but he got enough of a hold on it to stroke himself off, instantly triggering the orgasm his body had been waiting for since Cody’s knobbly dick hit his prostate.
He sprayed cum all over the muddy clay beneath Donna’s trailer. He tightened up as Cody orgasmed as well, then relaxed, letting Cody’s cock shoot the most massive load of his life deep into Ray’s guts. It spilled into him, seeping through his flesh like syrup, creaminess flowing through every nook and cranny of his body.
Cody lifted his head to howl once more, a few drops of drool dripping onto Ray’s shoulders as he did. He painfully banged his head into the trailer above and winced. “Damn-” he pounded on Ray’s ass, the pain in his head overshadowed by the intense climax flowing through his veins. “Take it, man, don’t spill none, don’t move, don’t move, shit, shit…” His breath condensed on Ray’s tense face.
He pinned Ray in position as he emptied those rank, unwashed balls into Ray’s guts. He had never gotten to cum like that, he thought as he watched his cock throb, shooting all the way into a woman’s tight ass.
“Ah, shit…”
“Hmmmm…” Ray sighed, but even that motion was enough to reawaken his orgasm and make him twitch. He was painfully sensitive right now, but he loved every minute of it. Cody’s dick limpened as it marinated in Ray’s cummy asshole, which clenched around it.
“Gonna make you dirty, boy,” Cody said, snorting and whispering right into Ray’s ear. When he saw Ray moan, Cody spat on his face and smeared the fluids all over his cheeks and nose. That made Ray gag and his asshole tighten once more.
Cody kept plowing. Girls never let him do this. It was arduous and painful for Cody, whose dick was soft now. But he liked doing it anyway. He bit his lip and rocked back and forth, turning his load into a big frothy, bubbly mess that coated Ray’s ass.
Ray squirmed as he felt cum slide out of his behind. He was delirious with the pleasure still rocking him in waves. His ass was a giant puddle of cum now, and he loved every moment of it. The heat of Cody’s load seeped through Ray’s flesh.
At last, it was done. Cody’s dick popped out, and Ray let out the loudest sigh of relief ever. He sprawled out in the dirt beneath Donna’s trailer.
Cody climbed out with a hefty chortle. His asscheeks rippled and his back muscles all flexed as he stretched, his goopy dick dangling between his legs. He gave it one last stroke and roared, then wiped his hand clean on Donna’s trailer, leaving behind a whitish-brown mixture of cum, mud and who knew what else. He laughed. She would be furious about that if she had seen it.
“Remember, prettyboy, don’t tell no one I gave you no kinda help,” Cody said. He kicked gently at Ray’s feet. “You hear me under there?”
From under the trailer Ray called out, “Yeah, no problem. I’ll see you later.”
Cody chuckled as he walked away. “Tha’ss right, bitch,” he said.

Buck the Ex-Con

Buck is out of prison again, and he’s up to his old tricks! He’s got a plan to stay out, but will it work? Buck is a muscle-bound ex-con redneck who doesn’t want to go back to prison and doesn’t want a reputation as a jailhouse booty bandit… but even more than that, he wants to stick his rod in anything that moves! So he’s got to satisfy his needs on the DL, even if that means holding down some hobos, addicts and losers, while doing the dirty in the dirt!

Read it now!

Trailer Park Noir

Calvin moves into a trailer park, but he’s in for a ride of man-on-man hijinks. He’s one of few black men in Smashwood Trailer Park, so he doesn’t fit in among the white trash bad boys who live there. That’s not gonna stop him from making waves and getting hot and heavy!

Can he make it through the rigors and risks of his new hood?

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The Trashy Alpha in the Trailer Park

Whatever feels right in the dark of night…

Wyatt craves the macho trailer park bad boy next door, but until his release from prison and a period of homelessness, Wyatt never thought he could nab this particular bit of rough! Now that Julian is desperate and horny enough to do… whatever… in the dark, Wyatt’s in for the ride of a lifetime!

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The Redneck Ex-Con

Buck’s back!

The white trash alpha ex-con Buck Simpson is out of prison again, and he’s got a new partner-in-crime, Nathan. If Nathan doesn’t meet Buck’s standards, he might be in for a pretty rough time, because as much as Buck tries to deny it, he’s a jailhouse booty bandit who doesn’t take no for an answer!

That means Nathan is in for a bevy of noncon man-on-man action full of rednecks, raunchy prison sex and disgusting hobo rutting!

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The Alpha White Trash

He’s down on his luck and lookin’ fer a place to crash…

Buck is a rough-and-tumble ex-con on parole, and he’s ready to swing on the downlow if that’s what it takes! His brawny manhood will satisfy his “benefactor” like only a macho alpha male can. Buck even has a couple friends with some adult needs, and that’s about to lead to some of the raunchiest man-on-man action ever!

Read it now!