Italians – Mansploitation

The Cocky Guido

Avery is at the Jersey Shore, where he finds himself servicing a cocky guido named Freddie. He can’t get enough of that Italian slab of manmeat!

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Read the whole thing here!

Most guidos were actually fat or skinny. They were arrogant, orange-skinned prettyboys who weren’t even pretty. The men at the gym had turned out to be a bitter disappointment.
That was the Cornerside Gym of Northtown Meadows in Seaside Heights, New Jersey. Avery worked there. Cornerside Gym had a reputation nationwide as a place for serious meatheads, weightlifters, boxers, etc., and the gym didn’t even accept women as members except where legally required to.
Seaside Heights, New Jersey, was not one of those places, so no women ever came into Cornerside except as cleaners at night. Avery didn’t mind that one bit. He enjoyed watching men work out, and he greatly appreciated the physiques of the men who worked out here. Seaside Heights was on the Jersey Shore, so a lot of those men were guidos.
It wasn’t like the guidos from that teevee show though. In the real world, most guidos were fat, or at least the ones who came to Avery’s gym were pretty tubby. They didn’t seem to realize it though. They carried themselves like they had good bodies they wanted to show off. One of them even once pulled up his shirt and smacked on his protruding belly as he insulted a skinny nerd in the locker room, even though the skinny nerd was in better shape than he was.
It was disconcerting. More than once, Avery wondered if he had wandered into an alternate reality where the standards for having a good body had changed. Still though, there was something about their cocky confidence that was arousing even when their bodies weren’t perfect, and sometimes they had both the perfect body and the cocky confidence.
Those, of course, were Avery’s favorites. One of them was Freddie Rizzoli.
Freddie walked out of the weight room one afternoon wearing nothing but sandals and a pair of sweat-marinated basketball shorts. Freddie was short and squat, too muscular for his body size, like he had trouble supporting so much muscle, yet he didn’t have that awkward-bodybuilder shape either — he looked too muscular only because he was so short, he packed more power than seemed possible into a small space.
“That’s right, man, fuck it! I told them how it is!” He pounded on his chest, talking to some friends as they all headed into the locker room. His bare chest flexed. He ran his fingers through his greasy slicked-back hair. “I don’t even play like that, man, swear to God! No disrespect, baby!”
Avery blushed and looked away. He hoped he didn’t look too obvious. He went about his business, ignoring Freddie and the other guidos. He heard them grunting and encouraging each other as they did bench presses. They were touchy, gripping each other’s muscles and casually masaging each other’s shoulders in between sets. When walking by, he even saw Freddie laying on that bench press with those sweat-soaked shorts clinging to his flesh. The outline of his huge, uncut cock was clearly visible pressing against the fabric of the shorts. It left nothing to the imagination.
When Freddie lifted, he grunted and his dick twitched. Avery drooled a little. He hurried away. Avery’s own cock was rock-hard, and he couldn’t stop thinking about Freddie. He rushed home to jack off.
But then he didn’t see Freddie at the gym next time he went. Avery was disappointed.
It wasn’t until a few weeks later that he saw Freddie again, still with those same couple of friends — he seemed to spend all of his time with them. Freddie ran his fingers through that over-brushed mop of straight, crunchy hair as he went into the locker room, having finished his workout, muscles drenched in sweat and cradled by the too-tight tank top he wore. Avery wondered if he could come up with an excuse to go into the locker room to check Freddie out. He blushed even though he was alone, not wanting to feel like such a lush.
But Freddie and his friends remained in there for only a minute or two. They returned with towels around their waists, having taken off their shirts. Avery watched sweat gleam on Freddie’s chest — which was freshly shaven, and not at all orange (Freddie actually tanned using sunlight, unlike most of his friends).
“Man, it’s just head,” Freddie said to one of his buddies, with a haughty chuckle, “you shouldn’t be picky about head.” He grabbed his dick through the towel around his waist.
“Why not?”
He laughed as though the answer should be obvious: “Cuz then you might get less. A mouth is a mouth, after all. So long as it’s warm and wet, who cares what she looks like?” His friends snorted and agreed with him, except for the one who had asked the question. Avery didn’t mean to follow them, but they went in the same direction he went. They went to the sauna, whereas Avery intended to walk past the sauna to go to the employee lounge. Freddie glanced at him and nodded his chin in his direction. “Fat girls love suckin’ dick,” he said quietly, like he thought Avery would scold him for being crude.
“Ain’t that nasty?”
“You ain’t gotta look down, do ya?” Freddie said as he went in the sauna, friends following behind him. They guffawed and slapped Freddie on the back. Freddie’s dimpled face, wide-eyed and exhilarated, was visible through the little window in the sauna door.
Wow, he is a champion douchebag… That was one aspect of guido life that came through on TV loud and clear. Avery didn’t like men because they were nice though.
He liked men with muscles and machismo and manhood to spare, and Freddie as exactly that sort of man.
Avery was disappointed that he didn’t get to watch Freddie any longer. Unfortunately, the sauna was one of the few spots in this gym where he couldn’t justify simply walking in whenever he wanted. Staff normally stayed out of there, and there was no storage or anything else he might have been able to use as an excuse. Plus, he had some actual job responsibilities he needed to get back to eventually.
For now though, he kept an eye on the little window in the door though. He was able to watch Freddie’s shoulder muscles flex as he laughed. The sight of his muscles and the sound of his arrogant alpha-male laughter made Avery’s dick twitch and harden up in his pants.
Avery was about to walk away to jack off alone when he heard some low murmured comments in the sauna, followed by more chortling laughter. It was very loud this time, loud enough to startle Avery from his daydream. From the tone, he guessed somebody had made some sort of scandalous joke. Something about the sound made him stand flat against the wall, listening the best he could.
A part of him could tell that they had been talking about him. The hairs on the back of Avery’s neck stood on end. He couldn’t put his fingers on what made him think that until he heard their words, but he was certain of it even before he listened.
“Man, that ain’t what I’m sayin’!” Freddie insisted, his voice audible through the door. It sounded like he was trying to stay light-hearted, to prove this wasn’t a big deal, whatever it was. Avery could hear him rolling his eyes in there as his friends laughed at him, a forced smile on his face to make himself seem easygoing even though he wasn’t. “A mouth is a mouth is all I’m saying. That’s how they did it in the Old Country-“
“As though you know, man.”
“Fuck you, bitch, say that to my face!” Freddie barked and everyone fell silent. That part was clearly audible outside the sauna. Then Freddie cleared his throat and chuckled like he hadn’t just snapped. “Yo, I been there, you know that. In Sicily, man, if you act like some disrespec’ful punk, man, you get on ya knees, boi! Verità!” He laughed cruelly. “I ain’t done it myself, but I know how shit goes down. My uncle got this one punk who owe him money, man, he puts that bitch in his place e’ry day, man!” He paused. “‘Cept on Sunday, man, he don’t do that. That’s God’s day.”
His friends murmured quietly in response, but nobody challenged him. It sounded like Freddie said this frequently and they tolerated it but didn’t approve. They exchanged glances with each other, and they laughed politely at Freddie’s antics. As always, he had taken it too far. Freddie always took things too far. When his friends laughed, he laughed harder. When his friends bullied a nerd, Freddie got too mean about it and did time in juvie. When his friends smoked weed or drank beer, Freddie smoked or drank until he puked. When they insulted a pimp, Freddie insulted him so bad the pimp tried to stab him.
The one thing Freddie couldn’t do was stop himself.
Freddie didn’t like the idea of his friends thinking of him as a braggart — he liked the idea of being old-school, hardcore, not behaving like some “prettyboy”, as his father would have called his friends. Only pansies worried about projecting an image; a real man trusted that reality would show off his manhood to everyone who needed to see it. His body streaked with sweat, he made sure his friends could all see his muscles. He kissed first one bicep, then the other, and he let his towel “accidentally” fall away to reveal his gigantic dick.
He knew he had the biggest dick among his friends. He made sure they never forgot it. His shaft was more than a foot long, veiny as fuck, and it was thick like a coke can.
“Man, Freddie, admit it, you playin’, right? You wouldn’t do nothin’ like that, and we all know it,” someone said, and everyone else fell quiet. They all shared knowing snickers with each other. “This ain’t the Old Country-“
Freddie scoffed loudly. “Yo, you don’t even know, man. No disrespect, but you don’t get how a real man is, ya feel me?” He sniffled and laughed to show how little he cared for that suggestion. He shrugged like it was no big deal. “If you got a real man’s cock and balls like me, you need to use ’em, y’know. That’s how Italians do, man, ya gotta drain ya nuts.”
“That’s why you get fat girls, man-“
“Yeah, well, fat chicks suck dick the best, everybody knows that. They know how to get deep, and they don’t get pissy about it if you force it in deeper.” He imitated a girl’s plaintive voice begging for more cock, and he pumped his hips, shadow-fucking a woman’s mouth. “Oh, it’s too big, don’t make me deep-throat it, Freddie, I can’t take the whole thing. But it tastes so good… Oooh, I want more…” He switched back to his own voice. “When I get a woman, I get inside that pussy, man. It’s all about the pussy.” He paused. “Or ass, ‘course, if she a dirty bird.”
“You could get some ass right now.”
“Yeah, do it, Freddie.”
Freddie snorted. “What?”
“There’s that dude out there, right? The one who works here? The little flamboyant one?”
Avery blushed. Am I caught? They must have noticed me checking him out. Avery was the only one who worked at this gym who might be described as a “little flamboyant” man. Avery held back a giggle.
“Yeah, he wanna slurp yo’ balls, man. He looked at you like a fat kid looks at cake.”
“So let ‘im.” Freddie shrugged. He wagged his pecker towards his friends. He guffawed too, slapping his knee at the sick look they made — they didn’t like being reminded that he had the biggest cock in the whole crew.
“Yeah, that’s some Old Country shit, Freddie. Does ya dick work or not?”
They all laughed, all except Freddie. He bit his lip and scoffed again, like this wasn’t a big deal and of course he would do it, like there was no doubt, even though the hesitation in his voice was palpable. “I mean… yeah, like… Uh-huh…. He prolly ain’t allowed to.” He cleared his throat. “Gym prolly got rules and shit.” Then he let out another forced laugh, like that ended the conversation and he wasn’t going to continue it. “So what’re you’s doin’ tonight-?”
“Uh-huh, you scared?”
“He is, he’s worried his dick won’t work-“
“Probably worried the creep gonna have a bigger dick than him.”
“What if the dude makes him bend over and ramrods him like a prison bitch?”
“That’s prolly what’ll happen-“
“Freddie gonna bottom for him-!”
They all laughed, all again, except Freddie, who roared and bellowed. “Man! I could kick that punk’s ass!” Even as he said it, he knew it made him sound weak — it was obvious he could kick that punk’s ass, that’s why his friends had suggested otherwise as a joke. Freddie knew he made himself sound defensive and weak, but he couldn’t help himself. He hated it when anyone questioned his masculinity, even a little bit. “I could do it, no problem. No disrespect, but I could knock that boy’s block off.”
Having a feeling that Freddie was about to come out of the sauna, Avery stepped away. He went to the closet just down the hall and made it look like he had just brought the mop bucket there and needed to move stuff around to make space for it. Since he wasn’t near the sauna anymore, he couldn’t hear what they said, but they kept laughing and chanting while Freddie listed excuses.
“Man, you know how I am, I don’t like, y’know… This gym is real important, I don’t wanna ruin it, y’know, get kicked out and shit. Gotta get my gym on, pump up the muscles, y’know-“
“Uh-huh, Freddie, just admit it, you’ve never jacked off in a dude’s mouth-“
“And you never would-“
“And you know fuck-all about how they would do it in the ‘Old-Country’-“
“All you’s guys can go fuck yaselves,” Fredde said with a grimace. He flexed one bicep and kissed it again, showing off a dimpled smile — for no clear reason that Avery could tell, Freddie was just unsure of himself and filled up awkward pauses with bluster and self-worship. “Course I’ll do it. Ain’t nevuh said I wasn’t gonna do it.”
Finally Freddie came out of the sauna. He had only a towel wrapped around his waist. He blanched at the sight of Avery like he had hoped maybe Avery would have left by now.
But Avery was there by the closet, fiddling with the mop bucket. He smiled at Freddie.
“Hey, uh, yo…” He sounded like he was going to ask a question politely. But then he heard his friends all clustered by the door to hear, poking at his back and teasing him under their breath. He felt he needed to maintain his macho image. So he grabbed his dick through his towel. “Yo, freak, you wanna slurp my meat?”
Avery blushed. “Uh…” His first reaction was, of course, to say yes, but he instinctually wanted to avoid looking too pervy, and Freddie was such a jerk Avery had an unquenchable desire to tell him no, even if he really wanted to say yes. So he played coy. He giggled and touched Freddie’s nipple, making both pecs flex in sync with each other. Freddie furrowed his brow. “I don’t know,” Avery said with another girlish giggle.
“Course you do.” Freddie scoffed. He took a deep breath and dropped his towel, standing there cockily in the hallway like he expected Avery to be so turned on by his foot-long dick that he couldn’t help but start swallowing it down right then and there. He was almost right, but Avery kept a nonchalant look on his face, despite desire blooming deep within him. When his posing didn’t result in Avery dropping to his knees, Freddie just scowled and said, “Come on.” He opened the door to the sauna.
Avery blushed but came in. The other guidos were rushing to get their own towels over their waists — they had been wearing the towels, but they hadn’t bothered to keep them secured, so most of them were loose; now that there was a stranger in the sauna, they made sure to fix the towels.
“Ah, shit, is he really doin’ it?”
“Oh damn, Freddie!”
“Bow-bow-chicka-wow-wow!”
Avery and Freddie were in the center of the sauna, which forced the other guidos by the door. They all clustered together as though worried they’d get splashed on. Though they thought it was too weird to be near Avery, they didn’t mind bumping into each other, clasping each other’s sweaty muscles and getting so close together they could taste each other’s bodies. Avery could even see one man’s towel ride up enough on his thigh that his dick protruded and rubbed against his buddy’s hairy orange-tanned thigh — they were all so engrossed in watching Freddie that no one noticed.
“Well, get on ya knees, boi!” Freddie said, pumping his biceps for the benefit of his friends. He even kissed one bicep, which made Avery giggle. Freddie ran his fingers through his greasy black hair. “You’s guys thought I wasn’t gonna do it, you thought I was just playin’!”
“Freddie’s fo’ real!”
“Aw, shit, baby!” one of them shouted, ran forward a few feet and smacked Freddie on the ass — that seemed to be some kind of inside joke — before going back to his compatriots. As he did, his towel fell, baring a splendid orange-brown ass, gleaming with sweat in the overheated sauna. Avery wondered which of that guido’s friends spray-tanned his buttcheeks.
“Get ya naked ass outta here-!”
“Don’t let your dick touch me!”
They shoved him away, and the one who had run away from the group looked behind his back. He didn’t want to pick up the towel that he had dropped because it would mean he had to bend over, ass facing either his friends or Avery and Freddie. Finally he squatted awkwardly, covering his crotch with one hand, picked up the towel and wrapped it around his waist again.
Avery sunk to his knees. He blushed, embarrassed at the leering, laughing guidos who surrounded him. Freddie had a nice big cock. His pubic hair was trimmed, which Avery was not a fan of — he preferred a more natural man — and his chest was shaved as smooth as a billiard ball. But that gym-toned body was perfect enough to make up for any disappointment in his lack of hair.
When he took Freddie’s dick in his mouth, Freddie gasped but tried to cover it up by sternly grunting, so his friends didn’t think this was a big deal for him. He crossed his arms over his pecs and flexed his muscles, making Avery giggle and blush again.
“See? You’s guys is a bunch of pansies, gettin’ all squeamish like girls,” Freddie said with a scoff, as though this had happened a hundred times and Freddie was fed up with their response. “A mouth is a mouth, boi!” He flexed both biceps over Avery’s head.
But Avery could sense the nervous energy in the thrum of Freddie’s muscles and the tension even in his relaxed limbs. It didn’t bother Avery none, as he focused on slurping that rod down deep.
“Damn, Freddie…”
“Get deep in his throat!”
Ruddy arousal bloomed over Freddie’s face and chest, his tanned neck turning burgundy. His tongue lolled around inside his mouth. Sweat covered his body. Freddie tensed up because he was worried he would cum too quickly. He had been raised to think being on top made him tough but cumming too quick would make him weak — a real man should take a little time to fuck his bottom’s throat.
But taking a break or otherwise slowing down directly would look weak too. Freddie’s instinct was to grab Avery’s head and fuck his face aggressively. He didn’t entirely want to to do though, because it would require touching his head and reminding himself he was with a man. In any case, he was sure that would make him cum right away.
“Swallow it, yo…” Freddie paused and added, in poor Italian, “Succhiare il mio cazzo!” He thought a little trash-talk would be a good compromise — it would make him look tough without making him cum more quickly, and that sentence was one of the few Italian things he could say confidently. So he said it again, “Succhiare il mio cazzo!”. He chuckled. Ain’t nobody else here knew what that meant, so Freddie flexed his pecs to make them bounce and sneered down at the weak man slobbering on his knob. Spit dripped down the shaft and soaked his pubic hair. “Aw, shit, you gonna play with it like a tubby bitch, huh? You best-” His voice broke, which he only barely managed to cover up by coughing. A shiver of potent pleasure ran up his spine. Freddie blushed — it wasn’t obvious because he was very tan and he was ruddy anyway from the heat in this humid sauna, but he could feel it, and he grew antsy trying to affect a nonchalant attitude in front of his friends. “You best deep-throat that shit, baby…” He winced as his friends laughed — he hadn’t meant to call Avery baby. That was a step too far, he thought.
“Baby? You two gonna fall in love?”
“Ooooooh! Freddie’s in love!”
“Fuck you, man, you’s guys-” Freddie pumped his hips one time, cutting off his own words because his dick rammed all the way into Avery’s throat and an explosion of pleasure like nothing he had ever experienced wracked his body. It felt so good it hurt.
He had never been deep-throated like this. He couldn’t admit how unprecedented it was because he had been bragging to his friends for years about how he made his girls deep-throat him. He said that they loved it. He specifically said that his balls rested on their chin when he came. That had never been true until now.
His balls slapped against Avery’s chin, and Freddie let out a tortured crying wail as an orgasm erupted within him. Already his friends snickered — that had taken maybe three minutes — and hooted as they slapped his ass.
He grunted, his orgasm so intense it almost hurt, and he gripped Avery’s head tightly, ignoring his short, masculine haircut. He grimaced and sprayed a massive wad down Avery’s throat, filling his belly up with creamy warmth.
The taste was salty and savory, and Avery guzzled down every drop. He loved straight boy cum because it had a vibrant, spring-like quality that made him crave more even as he swallowed Freddie’s load and licked every drop off his limpening shaft.
It just kept on flowing, more and more. Freddie’s eyes opened wide as he watched. His friends peered closer — they’d never really seen someone cum before. Of course they’d watched porn and they’d fucked their girlfriends alongside each other — they even once gangbanged this older lady who had begged for Italian meat — but they had always been distracted by their own desires and the female flesh around them. Not this time. They had no reason to look anywhere else, and like people unable to turn their heads away from an accident, they stared as Freddie’s dick throbbed and pulsating.
Great creamy gobs of cum spilled out and over Avery’s face. He saw all those eyes staring at him, and he thought to make a big mess, letting most of the cum in his mouth overflow. That embarrassed them all.
“Aw, shit-“
“Lookit that nasty!”
“Oh it’s all over his face! It’s all over his face! You the man, Freddie!”
“Ah, shit, yo, damn…” Freddie said. He shook his head and sighed, trying not to reveal how surprised he was by that big load. Avery had really pulled it right out of his balls. Freddie shrugged as though that was how much cum he normally shot. “Damn… Alright, I was, y’know… You can go now, man-” His voice broke and his friends laughed at him. “We done, you, uh… I used you as quick as I could. I wasn’t tryin’ to take a lotta time, so now you gotta go.” Freddie again knew he sounded defensive; he sounded like he was embarrassed about how quick that had been (which he was), but he couldn’t stop himself. “Man, that was what they call a cazzo veloce in the Old Country.”
Avery remained sitting right there. Freddie was so focused on demonstrating to his friends how macho he was and how he had forced Avery to slurp his dick then leave that he didn’t notice that Avery hadn’t left. Avery sat next to Freddie and clutched his muscular body. Freddie was too uncomfortable to make him leave, so he endured it until he and his friends had finally had enough of the sauna.
Then they left Avery there to remember the taste of Freddie’s fine Italian cock. That, Avery thought, had been unici deliziosi!

The Cocky Pimp Bottoms

Jay Bone is a pimp who only lets one man cut his hair… the twinky barber Desmond, who’s also willing to service every inch of Jay bone’s body. But Jay Bone has an interesting offer on Desmond’s birthday, cuz this alpha male pimp is willing to experience a twink on top!

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Desmond was glad to see Jay Bone come into his barbershop for two reasons. First of all, it had been a slow day and Desmond could use the tip — Jay Bone was a pimp, which meant he was very particular about who cut his hair. He only accepted Desmond. He was a good tipper, so Desmond was glad to cut his hair. The second reason Desmond was glad to see Jay Bone was that Jay Bone always gave Desmond a swing on his dick after his haircut. His delicious dick made Desmond’s mouth water, and Jay Bone had a powerful body brimming with muscle, along with a handsome face that made the girls come running.
Hence, he was a pimp. Desmond eagerly invited him to sit down in his barber’s chair with the same fervor all his bitches promised to please him.
Jay Bone strode in wearing his powder-blue suit with a pink tie and an azure fedora, like an old-school cabbie’s hat. He was dipping and dapping, walking to his own rhythm. He was tall and stately like a skyscraper, and he commanded attention like a white man with a clipboard. Everybody turned to look at his mug, he got a handsome face but an ugly nose, which somehow accentuated the handsomeness of his face.
Though everyone looked at him, conversation stopped when he entered and didn’t resume until he spoke. That was because he exuded authority like sweat and because he was a Crip. The Cityside Barbershop of Lawndale was not a gang-affiliated business, but it was in a Bloods neighborhood and everyone who worked there, including Desmond, was Bloods-affiliated.
Jay Bone came in all the time. It wasn’t forbidden for a Crip to come into a Bloods barbershop. But it did make all the niggas and homies in the waiting room shush their mugs and avoid looking at him. All except Desmond, in whose chair Jay Bone sat.
“How you doin’, Desmond-wit’-a-Geo? You got a new tattoo, huh, I ain’t seen that one?” Jay Bone always called Desmond Desmond-wit’-a-Geo because Desmond used to have a Chevy Geo, and he stopped to give Jay Bone a ride once. That car had been totaled in an accident two years ago, but Jay Bone was fixated on it — he was the kind of nigga who picked one fact about each person and repeated it often as though it showed that he cared about others. Of course, his inability to update that fact when it changed made him seem like he was incapable of caring about anyone other than himself.
But Desmond was willing to forgive him for all of his faults, as long as he got the chance to swing on that meat once in a while. “Yeah, I just got it a month ago-“
“You the man, Desmond, I only let you cut my hair, nigga. My hair’s too perfect to let any nigga touch it. You’s a fool if you let anyone but a sissy cut yo’ hair. Sissies and bitches, in that order, that’s who know how to cut hair,” he said. He paused thoughtfully. “And Italian men. I dunno what it is ’bout them, they can do it. You know any Italian barbers, Desmond-wit’-a-Geo?”
“No. Well, one, I think but he-” As usual, Jay Bone didn’t let Desmond get a word in. He always took over the conversation like this, asking questions without listening for an answer. He only spoke in monologues.
“Not in Baltimore, course. Them guidos is in Jersey and shit,” Jay Bone said. “We only got Pollacks here. You know about Pollacks? They’s like white people but retarded and uuuh-uuuugly!”
“Uh-huh.” Desmond just got started on the haircut, nodding along with Jay Bone. There was no point in trying to really talk to him. Conversation resumed in the rest of the shop. No one wanted to get on Jay Bone’s bad side, so everyone kept their voices lower than his.
“I got this new bitch, Desmond. You’d like her. She Spanish or some shit, half-Spanish, I think. Like Colombian. Is El Dorado a real place? She might be from El Dorado. She got a nice fat ass. Gonna get you over some time to get me off so she can see it though. She don’t suck a nigga dick worth a damn. Need a fuckin’ map and compass to find it and shit,” Jay Bone said as Desmond cut his hair and nodded along. “Got a mouth like a puppy’s water bowl. You know this nigga need more ‘an that!”
“Sounds like a doll.”
“Yeah, she got ass that don’t quit. She can learn about the blowjobs. That’s teachable. You can’t teach ass, that’s what I always say, nigga.”
“Yeah.”
“That shit is inborn, y’know. Reckon ya get that from yo’ mama. That’s prolly where sissy come from too. When yo’ mama bigger than yo’ daddy,” he said.
“My mom is tiny,” Desmond said. “She-“
“I mean big in spirit,” he said. He glowered at Desmond like he didn’t like to be contradicted.
“Oh, uh… yeah, I guess maybe.” Desmond wrinkled his nose. Jay Bone glared at him and Desmond didn’t want to antagonize him. “She got spirit.”
“Yup. That’s it,” he said as Desmond finished up the haircut. “You busy on Saturday? You can come over and jerk me off, show her how. Gonna have to be early though, she gotta work in the evening. She got a legion of johns and jimmies lookin’ to run up and down that snatch, and you know Jay Bone do provide!”
“Hmm… I’ve got, uh… not plans, exactly, uh… this weekend. It’s my birthday. Technically today, actually,” Desmond said. He was glad to have a subtle way to throw that in there because he thought Jay Bone would give him a bigger tip as a birthday present. It would be grubby to ask.
“Yo’ birthday is today?”
Desmond nodded. He took Jay Bone’s money and a satisfyingly generous tip, then smiled at him, gesturing towards the backroom. Jay Bone nodded and followed him that way. The other barbers and customers were visibly relieved that he was gone, and conversation became louder the moment the door to the backroom shut.
“Happy birthday, nigga.”
“Thanks.”
The back of the Cityside Barbershop was a dusty old storage area, with an office at the far end, next to the door leading to the alley behind the building. The owner — Johnny Cee — strictly forbade anyone from using the office when he wasn’t there, and he had told Desmond on numerous occasions not to use it to jerk niggas off.
But that was where Jay Bone went. That was where he always went. He knew Johnny Cee didn’t want him there, which was precisely why he did it. Johnny Cee didn’t get mad, and he didn’t blame Desmond for it. He knew nobody could tell Jay Bone no.
Not that Desmond wanted to tell him no. As Jay Bone pushed a stack of papers off the sturdy table in one corner of the room, Desmond admired the twisting of his muscles beneath that powder-blue suit. He had a big, broad body with a square jaw and rippling flesh, like a Hollywood-Hercules but dressed like a colorful pimp. When the table was clear he sighed as though having second thoughts about this.
Desmond sunk to his knees. “Is somethin’ wrong, sugar? Lemme show you what’s right…”
“Just thinkin’ some thoughts, lil queer,” Jay Bone said. Then he grunted and frowned at Desmond. “Gonna give you a birthday present, Desmond. You gonna enjoy, cuz of course you will. You game?”
“Uh… for what?” Desmond wondered if he was going to give weed, which Desmond would enjoy, or maybe cocaine, which Desmond would also enjoy but wished he wouldn’t offer. Desmond knew he wouldn’t turn it down though.
It was his birthday weekend, after all.
“Seven minutes, nigga. You get seven minutes in heaven, got it? That’s my birthday present to you. That’s seven birthday presents, really. You keep yo’ mouth shut about dis. You tell people you jerked me off,” he said. He took a deep breath. “But you can have yo’ way wit’ me fo’ seven minutes. I ain’t nevuh been wit’ a nigga… y’know, like that. I ain’t nevuh take dick in the ass. I gave a nigga head once in the joint. Nasty. Don’t tell no one that neither, or I’ll shove yo’ dick down yo’ throat. You gonna love this! Jay Bone got a killer body, all over, dick, ass, balls, shit, his toes is worth a million bucks apiece. Know dat!”
“Wait, so…?”
He scowled and furrowed his eyebrows. “You got seven minutes. You can make me do anything you want fo’ seven minutes. You can plow my ass, make me swallow yo’ dick, whatever you want. Jay Bone is a full-service kinda nigga, y’know. I would give you seven minutes wit’ one of my bitches, but I know you wouldn’t know what to do wit’ ’em,” he said. “My bitches needta be treated propuh! Proper as pandas!” He took out his cell phone and set up the timer.
“Ain’t you gonna take off your clothes?”
“Nah, nigga. That’s part of yo’ seven minutes,” Jay Bone said with a mean grin.
His mind raced. Desmond hurriedly took off his own clothes before Jay Bone was ready with the timer. He blushed, certain he looked like a drooling idiot. But he was glad to have the chance to plow Jay Bone — there was no way anyone would ever believe him anyway, so Desmond had intention of telling anyone.
“Yo’ time starts… now,” Jay Bone said. He put his phone down. This was all happening so fast that Desmond had trouble adjusting. He had a feeling that was part of Jay Bone’s plan — by flummoxing Desmond, he could still give this “present” without giving Desmond the chance to take full advantage of it like he might be able to if he had known this was going to happen.
“Uh… okay, you gotta get down on yo’ knees,” Desmond said, his voice wavering. He wasn’t used to telling alpha males what to do, and this situation felt especially awkward because Jay Bone was more than a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier than Desmond. Every fiber of Desmond’s being told him to get down on his knees instead. He was the thin twink, so that’s the position he felt he was “supposed” to be in. Topping Jay Bone felt like a transgression, Desmond thought, whose nervous voice repeated his request, “Get down on yo’ knees, nigga.”
Jay Bone did so. Even on his knees he was much to tall to jerk Desmond’s dick. He had to stoop down even lower than that. He inhaled deeply of Desmond’s dick as though he enjoyed the scent, though when he looked back he wrinkled his nose.
“You smell like coconut, nigga,” he said, over-enunciating like he either hated coconut or loved it. Before Desmond could ask which, pangs of pleasure shot up his body as Jay Bone swallowed his dick. His mouth encircled Desmond’s shaft.
He didn’t do this like someone who had only ever done it once, in prison, Desmond thought. He wasn’t about to say that though, that was a sure way to raise Jay Bone’s massive ire.
The sensation wracking his body was incredible, made all the more intense by the awkwardity of the situation — Jay Bone’s fumbling tongue, his hesitant movements, his scratchy scruffy chin rubbing against Desmond’s flesh. Desmond rumbled and moaned so loud it was audible in the frontroom of the barbershop.
“Yo, Desmond havin’ a good time! Jay Bone must be feedin’ him all kind of birthday meat!”
“Nigga frontin’-!”
“Sit’cha ass down!”
“Jay Bone doin’ it right, Desmond?!”
They wouldn’t be teasing Jay Bone if there was some chance Jay Bone recognized their voices. The men in the front room laughed in a mixture of bravado and anxiety. Though most of them let Desmond jerk them off from time to time, they all tried to keep it more discrete than Jay Bone did. None of them would ever even think about jerking Desmond off instead.
But Jay Bone was doing it, and he wasn’t even hesitant or reluctant. He did it like he knew what he was doing and enjoyed it. He deep-throated Desmond to the root, and he snuck his tongue out to lick Desmond’s shaft, making Desmond shift his weight between his feet and suck on his breath.
“Goddamn, Jay Bone… Holy fuck… who taught you how to do this?” Desmond’s hands clutched Jay Bone’s head, upon which was still balanced his blue fedora. It was much darker than his suit, and Desmond worried he would leave fingerpints on it — no doubt resulting in Jay Bone admonishing him and making him pay to have it drycleaned — so Desmond let go of it right away.
Spit dripped in great gobs down Desmond’s shaft. Jay Bone’s mouth was loud and moist, exactly the way Desmond loved it. He bucked his hips to help Jay Bone swallow every inch of his meat, snaking his dick down Jay Bone’s tight throat.
Desmond was deeply aware of the time ticking away. He saw the timer on Jay Bone’s cell phone display, sitting on the desk in the center of the office. Desmond reached down to undo Jay Bone’s pink tie and take his jacket off.
It was awkward, to say the least. Jay Bone made no effort to make it easy for Desmond, though he didn’t go out of his way to make it difficult. Desmond’s fingers fumbled as he strained to reach Jay Bone’s shirt-buttons, but he eventually managed to get it unbuttoned and off.
Then he shuddered. His knees went weak. His hard cock spasmed, and for the first time, Jay Bone let out an intense moan, making a sound for the first time. It wasn’t clear if it was a moan of disgust or delight now that he tasted precum. It was hot and creamy, and Desmond felt it spewing out into Jay Bone’s mouth.
The precum flowed down his throat. Desmond had never felt himself emit so much, but this was such an awe-inspiring situation that he couldn’t stop himself. The precum was voluminous and thick, and it coated Jay Bone’s tongue.
Desmond gasped and threw his head back. His mind said to move on to anal. He only had five and a half minutes left — had it really only been a minute and a half? But it was tough to tear his cock away from such unimaginable bliss inside Jay Bone’s mouth.
“Okay, uh, take off your pants,” Desmond said. His voice sounded impossibly weak and tinny in the cramped office. Jay Bone sighed and growled. Desmond felt a surge of fear as Jay Bone pulled off and stood, like he might be about to attack Desmond. “I mean… if you want to…”
“It’s yo’ birthday, nigga. I do whatevuh you want,” he said with a grin. “I wanna see why my bitches complain so much about gettin’ stuck in the ass. You got a big dick?”
“Uh… It’s pretty big,” Desmond said. He blushed.
Jay Bone knelt against the table, but again, he was much too tall for that to work. Desmond chuckled and smacked his cheeks to tell him to get down lower. “You’re bending over like I do,” Desmond said. “But I’m shorter than you. We can’t just reverse positions and expect that to work.”
“Alright, lil queer, I get it, I’s pickin’ up what you puttin’ down,” Jay Bone said. He sunk all the way to the ground on his knees, crouched over. He dropped his powder-blue slacks and the silk boxers he always wore, revealing a perfectly plump, smooth brown ass. He sighed and shook his head.
“There you go, that’s good, nigga,” Desmond said. He tried to sound like a deep-voiced thug, like Jay Bone, but that only accentuated how flamboyant and effeminate his actual voice was. Both he and Jay Bone laughed.
Desmond’s instincts said to dive in head-first and lick his ass — Desmond loved giving Jay Bone a rimjob on those rare occasions when he allowed it (he always said he saved rimjobs so he could make his hos do it as punishment, he didn’t want to cheapen it). Besides that, this was a special occasion and Desmond didn’t want to waste it doing something he could talk Jay Bone into anytime. So Desmond grabbed the bottle of lube he kept around for emergencies and got started.
When he saw that there were just barely four minutes left, Desmond got excited. He slathered half a tube of lube on his cock just because he was in too much of a hurry to measure out a smaller amount. The goopy lube dripped onto the floor.
“Damn, calm down, Desmond,” Jay Bone said with a nervous chuckle.
Desmond blushed. “Sorry. You put a time limit on this, I gotta hurry,” he said, and his plaintive tone made Jay Bone laugh again. It was a deep, cocky barrel-laugh, which the men in the frontroom apparently interpreted as some sort of victorious alpha male grunt, and they all hooted and clapped.
Desmond rammed his dick in, and Jay Bone let out a loud, pained growl — which he turned partway through into a grunt, seemingly putting on a show for the folks in the frontroom. Again, they must have heard because they clapped and cheered Desmond on. They all assumed Desmond was bottoming, jerking Jay Bone off or even taking it in the ass. Nobody would have ever even made a joke about Jay Bone bottoming instead.
“Sorry, sorry,” Desmond said. “I didn’t meant to make it hurt.”
“That’s alright. My bitches is whinin’ like hell. You got substantial meat, nigga, and it ain’t that… bad,” he winced on that last word, and twisted his body as Desmond ground his dick into Daddy’s Rico’s ass.
Desmond couldn’t help but giggle. It looked like Jay Bone now understood why his hos complained about getting rammed in the ass. He grunted and his chest heaved.
“You’re loosenin’ up, nigga, it’ll get easier,” Desmond said. He patted Jay Bone on the arm and shuddered. Normally Jay Bone was so strict about touching. He didn’t let Desmond touch most of his body, no grabbing his ass, no tweaking his nipples under the shirt, and no kissing. So Desmond had never really gotten an opportunity to feel those incredible muscles.
The nicest thing about Jay Bone’s body, Desmond thought, was that it wasn’t perfect. He didn’t have a six-pack, though he came close. He had a big thick body, bulging in all the right places, brimming with power, swagger and strength. If he had time, Desmond would have gladly licked him from head to toe like a cat cleaning its kitten.
Then, like a switch had been flicked, Jay Bone changed. His pained grunting changed to an aroused moan, and Desmond could tell even though he couldn’t see that Jay Bone had gotten hard. He smiled. Obviously, he thought, he had discovered the location of Jay Bone’s prostate.
Desmond reached around him and grabbed ahold of his dick. “This is called a reacharound,” Desmond said. “It’s polite to give a reacharound when you plow a nigga in the ass-“
“I ain’t nevuh doin’ that, lil queer. You can stop bringin’ that up right now,” Jay Bone said. “But you go ahead. I like that.” He shook his head and whinnied like a horse, as though he was surprised — and maybe a bit frightened — by how much he enjoyed getting it up behind.
Now that Desmond had found Jay Bone’s prostate, he knew how to make it feel good.
He had never before topped with a man so much bigger than himself, and it was a nice change of pace, even if the positioning was awkward and difficult. The more he rammed back and forth and the more passionately Jay Bone reacted, the more Desmond struggled to hold back his climax.
By the time he felt his orgasm rising, Desmond was on his toes, using both hands to grip Jay Bone’s back and slam his hips down over and over. Luckily he had used so much lube — and Jay Bone was simply a big man — that Desmond slid easily in and out of Jay Bone’s tight ass.
“Damn, nigga, damn damn damn…”
Much to Desmond’s surprise, his own orgasm was interrupted by Jay Bone himself shooting his load. He gave little indication beforehand, as though he was just as shocked as Desmond was. All of a sudden Jay Bone’s cock throbbed and spasmed in Desmond’s hand, and cum sprayed over Desmond’s fingers. It landed in a big creamy clump on the floor.
But still he kept cumming. His massive body bucked and writhed beneath Desmond’s grasp, until eventually Desmond wasn’t on the ground at all. He was born aloft by Jay Bone’s broad back, to which Desmond held on for dear life, grinding his cock into Jay Bone as the seconds tumbled away on the timer.
“Can you turn your head and kiss me?” Desmond asked, his voice low and breathless. His climax bubbled just under the surface.
Jay Bone smiled and did so. Again, it was awkward — he had to strain his head back, and Desmond had to crawl up his shoulders to reach. But he first gave Jay Bone his hand, which dripped with Jay Bone’s own cum.
He gave no hint of hesitation before grabbing Desmond’s wrist with his big meaty hand, and sucking up every drop of his own cum of Desmond’s fingers. He bucked and writhed as though he was both disgusted and aroused by the flavor, and he slurped on Desmond’s hand like he tried to drain it of juices.
“Fifteen seconds left, nigga,” Jay Bone said, his voice tense like he was eager for it to be over. He sighed as he licked the last of his own cum off Desmond’s fingers.
Then he kissed Desmond without a moment’s hesitation. The taste of cum flooded Desmond’s mouth, the smear of semen all over Jay Bone’s face colliding with the sweat that dripped down Desmond’s cheeks. Desmond had never kissed anyone like that.
At last Desmond’s own body erupted in orgasm. “Ah, fuckin’ hell!” he roared as cum sprayed into Jay Bone’s broad ass.
The orgasm lasted for what felt like forever, though judging from the timer, it was more like thirty seconds. The timer went off near the end as Desmond shuddered. The beeping was impossibly loud, resonating in Desmond’s ears as he filled Jay Bone with his load.
“Shit yeah…” Jay Bone muttered. Desmond could do little more than bark and yelp into Jay Bone’s tattooed back.
The most unimaginable pleasure in his life wracked Desmond’s body. He dug his nails into Jay Bone’s meaty muscles, and he licked all the sweat off where it collected between the man’s broad shoulderblades. He writhed there, precariously balance on Jay Bone, for what felt like forever.
His thin twink limbs contorted, and he dug into Jay Bone’s body. Jay Bone just smiled wryly, rolling his eyes as Desmond’s dick jabbed into him over and over. It was a big, thick and creamy load, which dripped out of Jay Bone’s ass and onto the floor between his trunk-like thighs. It clung to his skin and the hair of his crotch.
“Alright, nigga, you done,” Jay Bone said. He flicked the timer off. “Was that seven minutes in heaven?”
“It certainly was.”
Jay Bone let out a long chest-rattling moan. He glared at Desmond like he was mad at him. “You said you was busy on Saturday, right? What about Sunday?”
“Yeah, I’m free.”
“Good. I’m gonna throat you so hard yo’ mama gags,” he said. He bristled and straightened his back like he wanted to recapture his swaggerous mojo now that he had taken dick in the ass. “You can show my new ho how to take it right.”
“Okay,” Desmond said. He was too tired to think about it now, but he thought he would enjoy that.
“I ain’t gonna have no mercy, Desmond, this nigga can ball!” he said, adding an inscrutable hand gesture that involved snapping his fingers. “You know how I do. I plow hard. Know dat!”
“Yeah,” Desmond said with a grin. “You taught me well.”

The Cook

Avery is after a hunky waiter, but when he gets shot down, he finds himself servicing a perfectly chunky cook with a cocky attitude and a manhood to match!

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Avery Flowers ate the salad. It was a terrible salad. It was just a little plastic container full of lettuce, with a half a tomato plopped on top, and a cup of ranch dressing on the side. It was obvious no one ever ordered the side salad.
That was fine with Avery, he wasn’t here for the salad. He was here for the men. Or one man specifically.
His name was Robert Halberman, and he was handsome like a movie star. He had deep dimples and a trim, lean body, with high cheekbones that looked like they were sculpted from the finest clay. His chin was strong and wide, his jaw high and square. He had a thick shock of black hair that was slicked back.
He was handsome enough to make Avery forget how disappointing the salad was. It’s not like he wanted it anyway, it was just an excuse to be here.
“Hey, man, whatchoo puttin’ it off for? She gave you digits, you best use ‘em or I might!” That wasn’t Robert, that was the cook behind the little window into the back. He was chunky and had a few acne scars on his cheek, but Avery hadn’t gotten a good look at him yet — he certainly wasn’t handsome like Robert, and he seemed obnoxious. Avery wished he would go away.
Robert said something that Avery couldn’t catch, and the other guy exclaimed, “Hell yeah, I’ll take a run at her. She might like me, ya never know, homeboy!” His deep barrel laugh filled the air.
Avery already didn’t like the cook. He was loud and grating. As closing time drew near, Avery wondered if it would be possible to get Robert alone. It was just the two of them, so he hoped that the cook would have stuff to do in the kitchen while Robert prepared the front to close. That would be convenient. It would give Avery plenty of opportunity to talk to Robert.
This place did mostly takeout and delivery, so no one came in during the last few minutes they were open. Then the elderly Chinese woman who did the deliveries this evening got her last order and left. She locked the door on the way out because it was two minutes to close.
No one had told Avery to leave yet, but he had finished his salad — or rather, he had nibbled sufficiently on his bowl of lettuce (the tomato half was too underripe to eat). He saw Robert sneaking sideways glances at him. It was no doubt weird for someone to come in and eat a terrible, overpriced salad at nearly midnight. But Avery had really come here for Robert, not the salad (and secondarily, Avery had come here to get away from his mother, who was probably farting herself to sleep right now after having tuckered herself out muttering racist comments at the news).
“Hi, sir, we’re closed now. You can, uh… stay and finish,” Robert said. “For a little while, but, uh…” He had the mop bucket out, and he smiled, flashing those charming dimples at Avery.
“Yeah, no problem,” Avery said. “I’ll be gone soon. Can I make you an offer first?”
“An offer? What?”
“I’ll give you two hundred dollars if you let me take a swing on your dick,” Avery said. “I’ll slurp you dry, man, I’ll-“
“What? No way. No. I mean… gross, man, no way.” Robert blushed. “I got a girlfriend. And no, y’know, just plain no.” He backed away.
Avery was deflated and embarrassed. He had really thought that would work. He could tell he had intimidated Robert. That happened sometimes.
‘Oh well’, he thought. ‘It was worth a try. Tomorrow I’ll take an uber’. There was an uber driver around here, a Brazilian hunk who seemed willing to take his dick out at a moment’s notice. Avery didn’t even need to pay to jack him off, he was so enthusiastic it was too easy.
That made it less fun though. He didn’t like to admit it even to himself, but Avery enjoyed the hunt. He liked tracking down straight boys and getting them to cross that line. If he didn’t get turned down sometimes, then he wasn’t pushing his luck enough, that was how he saw it.
He got up to throw the remains of his “salad” away. He thought about getting a bottle of water for the ride home, but it was so expensive here, and Robert had probably already shut down the register.
“Ha ha ha ha ha!” That cook laughed so loud it echoed in the squat little corner pizza shop. “You gettin’ paid, boi! How’s dat?! Huh? What? You fuckin’ pansy-ass, a mouth is a mouth! What’s ya goddamn problem, jabroni?”
The cook waddled out to the front of the shop, his big cheeks ruddy, which covered up the spot of acne scarring over by his left cheek. He was thickly built — he definitely didn’t have a six-pack, but he wasn’t fat — he looked like he fancied himself a bodybuilder and lifted weights a lot, but ate too much of the pizza he cooked here to really have a great body.
He had dark hair like Robert’s, but his was curly, tangled and greasy, slick with sweat. He did not have sculpted cheekbones — he had no cheekbones at all that Avery could see — and his jaw was entirely too square, giving him a cavemanish look.
So he was not a handsome movie-star type. He looked Italian though, like he should really work in a pizza shop — he even had a map of Italy with the state of Puglia colored in tattooed on his wide but short neck — while Robert looked more like a dark-haired Irishman.
“Hey, yo, man, lemme rap atcha, huh? I heard you like some manmeat. I know I got some hella belly, I see that, swear to God, I know I ain’t on the slim and skinny prettyboy train!” the cook said. He lifted up his shirt to reveal his paunch — which was really minimal, he sort of carried himself like a fat guy, Avery thought, which accentuated it. If he lost just twenty pounds, he’d have a perfect body.
Avery didn’t mind that though. He blushed at sight of the cook slapping his belly. He didn’t need his men to have a perfect body — to some degree, he thought, an imperfect body was more interesting. He’d met plenty of swarthy loverboys like Robert, but the cook was novel.
“But I got meat to spare, lemme tell you, bud, lemme say that. I got all kinda meat, I got Italian sausage — no lies, man, swear to God, I swear to motherfucking God, you got me? You wanna see it?” He made like he was going to drop his pants right here in front of the wide open windows. He undid his belt, then grinned — he had dimples too, deep pools excavated into those chipmunkian cheeks — and put it back. “Can’t do it here, and you gotta pay if you wanna see it, huh?”
“Well-“
“I ain’t no kinda liar, swear to God. I got a foot of meat, and I think you can pay me to see it, okay? I’m from Queens — and my name is Vinnie Delatucci, okay? Nice to meetcha-” He shook Avery’s hand vigorously, then he rammed Avery’s hand down his pants. Avery yelped in surprise as his hand brushed over a big sweaty dick. “Grab it so you can see-” Vinnie yelped and blushed when Avery actually grabbed his cock, like he hadn’t thought Avery would actually do it. “See? Ain’t no baby dick like Robert’s-“
“Shut the fuck up, Vinnie-!”
“Hey! You said no. I am a firm believer, yessuh, that the customer is always right, baby. You see, back in Queens, New Yawk where I’m from-“
“You ain’t gotta tell no one that, Vinnie. Literally no one is impressed,” Robert called out from the counter, where he counted up credit card receipts.
Vinnie puckered his lips. “Man, you don’t even know, you don’t even know, boy, swear to God. I call it how I see it, that’s right, motherfucker. Back in Queens, swear to God, there’s all kinda old dudes who wanna touch a big dick, they say it makes ya dick bigguh-” For the first time, Vinnie seemed momentarily flustered. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, swear to God. They’s always payin’ motherfuckers, you know, you can easy anytime make a couple bucks off some old-ass freak.” He paused. “You ain’t a old freak, I ain’t callin’ you that.”
“Hmm-hmm. So you’ve done it before?” Avery asked. He tweaked Vinnie’s nipple through his uniform polo shirt.
“Nah.” Vinnie sniffled, watching Avery touch his chest with wide-eyed amazement. “I had females beggin’ for my meat. So I ain’t need to get wit’ them. Ain’t got time. You don’t even know, swear to God. Chicks around here is a bunch of prudes, swear to God, ain’t like New Yawk chicks-“
“Don’t listen to him, man, he was a tubby shit in high school-“
“I ain’t talkin’ ‘bout high school-!”
“You left New York City when you graduated, motherfucker, ain’t no girls into you unless they wanted to get grope some tubby fat kid who probably stank like his sister’s oozing pussy-“
“Don’t you talk ‘bout my sister! I wasn’t — man, he don’t even know, he don’t know ‘bout New Yaw — that’s what you call it, man, swear to God. Only outsiders say New Yawk City. And none of that’s true, man, swear to God-“
“It is so true! His brother told me! And I am an outsider, man, I’ve never been to New York City-“
“Don’t fucking say that-!”
“Shut your fat fucking face-!”
“Hey!” Avery screamed. He smiled. “I don’t care who was fat in high school.” Both men looked at him, and Avery waited to be sure they would stay quiet. “Vinnie… Yes, I’ll take you up on that. But you have to put it in my butt too, okay?”
Vinnie scoffed and sucked on his teeth. “Of course, man. I’ll stick you good, fo’ real, you won’t even know. You gonna get rocked, boy! Gonna wreck that ass, fo’ real.” He shouted and clapped his hands. “You got a hotel room or some shit?”
Avery shook his head. “Do you have a supply closet?”
“Fuck yeah, that’s nasty, that’s real nasty, I like that,” Vinnie said. Despite his overconfidence, Avery detected a trace of anxiety in his voice. Vinnie scoffed. “In the closet, yeah. You ain’t gonna snitch, right, Robert? Snitches get stitches.”
“I won’t snitch.”
“Good. Get in there, boy, and get on ya knees!” Vinnie said. He affected a nonchalant look. “I’ll come plow ya throat in a sec, boy, swear to God. I gotta make a call, y’know-“
“He’s gotta call his bitch-ass sister to tell her not to come pick him up right away-“
“Man, shut up, you don’t even know, you don’t even know-“
“That’s what it is, mister! His sister is such a nasty slut-“
“Donchu talk ‘bout my sister, man!” Vinnie headed towards the kitchen, swaggering and screwing up his face.
Avery just ignored him. He decided that Vinnie’s bluster was best ignored. That seemed to be what Robert did anyway. He didn’t know how that argument was resolved, all heard was Vinnie’s deep voice repeating his catchphrases — “You don’t even know, Robert, swear to God!” His Queens accent made it sound like yew done evehn knaw, Rahberh, swuh to Gahd! Several times it sounded like Vinnie was about to punch Robert.
But somehow, it was all resolved in the time it took Avery to find some towels to kneel on. Vinnie swaddled in, his hefty body barely fitting in the doorway because he didn’t open it all the way — as though hiding from someone, though no one was around but Robert. His ass was big and plump, barely fitting in his nasty jeans that reeked of pizza grease — he probably wore these to work every day.
“Man, you gonna beg for it? Lemme hear you beg.” Vinnie sounded confident, but he still looked less so than he wanted to — his body language was nervous. He crossed his arms over his chest. Avery was quite sure that he had witnessed someone do it like this, some macho New Yawker who had leaned back against a wall and looked very cool letting a man jerk him off. Vinnie looked like he was imitating someone Avery had never met.
“Please, let me taste your dick, I’ll do it so good, I promise. You can smash my throat real hard,” Avery said.
“Course I can, baby, that’s how I do! We call it how we see it, swear to God, I ain’t even playin’!” Vinnie pounded on the wall as though he was continuing his argument with Robert. Then he gulped audibly in the darkened closet — there was a dim light sliding in from the hallway outside, but it was otherwise dark in here. He unzipped his jeans.
“Hmm… No, take your pants down,” Avery said. He actually liked jerking guys off through their fly, but he predicted that making Vinnie drop his pants would provoke a reaction.
Sure enough, Vinnie scoffed and sucked on his lip. “Alright, boy, goddamn, you need good access, huh? You scared? I bet, donchu worry, I ain’t no kinda, y’know… I can drop my pants, you don’t even know.” He let his jeans, heavy with grease and sweat, plop to the ground. He wore dingy grayish boxers, which he dropped as well.
He had a big dick, that was true. It was not a foot long, Avery could tell that for sure. It was maybe ten inches — still big enough to brag about, but he had clearly been exaggerating. If he lost enough weight to have a six-pack though, Avery thought it might have looked more like a foot long, that always made cocks look bigger.
Avery teased him first by planting his lips on the tip. Vinnie shuddered, but tried to play it off as though it was deliberate. “Woo-hoo, alright, there ya go, yeah. You got it, baby, you got it.” He kissed the air.
He tasted like pizza-grease. Avery loved it. He didn’t eat stuff like pizza anymore — he tried to limit his carbs, though he wasn’t quite on a low-carb diet (he couldn’t handle a true low-carb diet). It was nice to taste a disgustingly delicious pizza once again.
Avery lowered his head quickly, wanting to surprise Vinnie, who shuddered again and clucked his teeth. Avery let that thick shaft fill his throat, and Vinnie gingerly touched his hair.
“Hmmm, yeah, boy, get that shit wet,” Vinnie said, loud enough that Robert could hear on the other side of the wall. He was obviously performing for Robert’s benefit, Avery thought — his dick was only now getting hard and he was already moaning like he was about to blow his nut. “Man, you don’t even know, Robert, you squeamish pansy! Scared to get ya dick wet, boy, swear to God! Feels just like a fine-ass female!”
He finally shut up when his dick did twitch and firm up. A wavery moan escaped from his lips — that sounded a lot more genuine. He grunted and his hands finally gripped Avery’s head. Up until now he’d just been touching his scalp gingerly, like he wanted to feel he was fucking Avery’s throat, but couldn’t bring himself to actually do so.
He held onto Avery’s head and pistoned his hips. A surprised groan escaped and his balls swayed in front of Avery’s chin. His dick was rock-hard now.
Avery let a big clump of spit spill out from his mouth, coating Vinnie’s shaft. It ran down into his unkempt pubic bush. His veiny shaft throbbed, and Vinnie’s voice broke — he covered that up by coughing and grumbling. “Uh, yeah, alright then, you gettin’ deep on there!” His knees went weak as a burst of precum hit Avery’s tongue. Vinnie’s voice swooned. “Like a champion, man, shit…”
Robert could be heard laughing — it was obvious that Vinnie was surprised and nervous by how good this felt. Precum flowed down Avery’s throat, the salty and sweet taste making him want to deep-throat forever. His lungs cried out for oxygen, and he pulled off despite Vinnie gripping his head tightly.
Vinnie gasped. “Goddamn, man, shit,” he sucked in his breath. His muscles all quivered as Avery’s hands snuck up under his shirt. Vinnie lifted it up, baring his chest, and took his shirt off. Sweat glistened on his broad chest.
“Are you ready to fuck? Can you handle that?”
“‘Course I can, swear to God, boy! You think I might say no, boy, no way. You best turn around and bend the fuck over, swear to God, I’ll smack the punk off ya face!” He chuckled, then stopped. “I mean, I’m just sayin’, y’know, if you wanna get cornholed-“
“It’s fine, just fuck me.” Avery was too horny to think. His ass tingled, demanding action. He ripped the fly on his jeans in his haste to get them down, and he bent over. He had to stick his upper body on one of the supply closet shelves, so his head was surrounded by trash bags and oregano shakers.
“Okay, man.” Avery took a deep breath and slid his dick between Vinnie’s cheeks. He shivered. “You hear that, man? He beggin’ me for it! He need it, swear to God! Ain’t nobody want you, ya skinny prettyboy blockhead!” He smacked on the wall again.
“He chose me first, Vinnie, you were his consolation prize! Remember?” Robert’s voice came through the wall.
Vinnie paused. Then he scoffed loudly. “That’s cuz he ain’t see me on account of I wuz in the back. Swear to God, man.” He paused and grunted. “Swear to God, he tellin’ me I got a better body than you-“
“He ain’t say that-“
“Swear to God, motherfucker!”
“Lemme hear him say it!”
“His mouth is full, bitch! Just go home, Robert! This is man stuff, okay? Real-man shit goin’ on in here!”
“Yeah, I know, it’s man-stuff, yeah. Have fun with your pervy shit, Vinnie., that’s the ultimate in man-stuff. I’ll tell your sister that’s one less cock for her to suck. Don’t forget to lock up.”
The front door could be heard opening and closing, bell jingling. Vinnie growled like he wanted to shout another insult, but Robert was already gone. Vinnie was slow because he slipped his dick in deeper and deeper.
Intense pressure hit Avery’s ass, making Avery grunt and bite his lip. The pain was potent, and the pleasure distant, at first, but with every thrust of Vinnie’s awkward dick, it felt better and better. His barrel-shaped belly slapped against Avery’s asscheeks.
“Shit, man…” Vinnie had been distracted until now, and Avery could sense the increase in his awkwardity now that he was talking to Robert through the door. With no one to impress, Vinnie’s bravado diminished somewhat. “Hey, lemme get in there, shit, shit, okay, swear to God… shit…”
Slowly the agony in his ass became a mind-melting pleasure. Avery jacked himself off. He raised his head until it bumped into the shelf above him, and he had to lift his head out of the shelving area. That placed himself right in front of Vinnie’s now-bare chest.
It was hairy and broad, fleshy, meaty, muscles flexing over and over as he nervously plowed into Avery’s ass. Avery loved feeling his men’s body behind him, so he jutted backwards until Vinnie had no choice but to wrap his arms around Avery to pound him hard.
“Stay like that, boy, goddamn, here I go, shit!” Vinnie jammed his dick in harder and harder, his inhibitions slowly melting away now that he saw Avery wasn’t going to make him stop. He could understand now why all the older New Yawkers he had grown up with always talked about male ass as though it was as good as female — aside from the lack of tits to grab onto, he thought, it was fine.
“Hmm, fuck me, Vinnie, I wanna get cornholed by a real macho from New York City,” Avery said, his voice breaking. He crooned and turned to rub his face against Vinnie’s broad shoulders.
Vinnie groaned into his ear. “You playin’, boy, I know that. I from New Yawk, baby, not no New Yawk City. Now shut ya face and beg me to ramrod you.”
“Ramrod me, baby, I wanna feel your nut inside me,” Avery said. He puckered his lips and kissed Vinnie on the cheek the best he could like this. He managed to kiss him a little bit on the lips too, and Vinnie didn’t seem to notice or care.
At last they both orgasmed. Avery felt like his entire lower half had turned to liquid, and he wasn’t even aware of his hand jacking himself off until a powerful orgasm erupted within him. It sprayed over those trash bags and the shelf in front of his crotch, while Vinnie let out a long, rumbling roar right into Avery’s ear.
He grunted, and his voice broke. This time, without Robert to make fun of him, Vinnie didn’t bother to cover it up with a cough. He moaned again and again, cooing, his breath condensing on Avery’s cheek. He even kissed Avery back — chastely, no tongue — until he realized what he was doing. In the dark, Vinnie thought, it was easy to forget he wasn’t fucking a woman.
Cum coated Avery’s insides, great creamy gobs of it, every drop stimulating his prostate with a wave of pleasure. He cried out loud and rattled the shelves he still gripped for support. One of the oregano shakers toppled onto the floor, and the smell of oregano bloomed in the air, overpowering the cottony cum-scent that was exploding in Avery’s nose.
“Shit, man, take it, damn… Swear to God…” Vinnie moaned. He shuddered again, his hefty body rubbing against Avery’s back.
“Hmmm… You have a nice dick,” Avery said, his voice a faint tingle since he still had that massive cock stretching his ass and making it hard to concentrate. “Thanks for that.”
“That’s how we do, y’know, you wanna feel some dick, I got plenty,” Vinnie said as he watched his dick slide out. He clucked his tongue. “Swear to God, I ain’t some squeamish fuck. Men get they dick wet. Yeah, hell, yeah, boy, swear to God. Men get they dick wet.”
They both shivered in post-orgasmic bliss when his cock finally plopped out. Cum dripped down Avery’s thigh, but he cleaned himself off with some napkins. Vinnie did the same.
“You got that money, right? You best pay up! I’ll wreck ya if you try to stiff me, ain’t playin’, I’ll wreck the fuck right outta ya!” He punched his own palm, which he no doubt thought was intimidating, but with his pants around his ankles and his voice post-orgasmically warbling, it didn’t come across as intimidating.
Avery giggled. He pulled the money out of his pocket, and placed it in Vinnie’s pants as he pulled them up. He slid his hand all the way in his pocket, giving Vinnie’s cock one last stroke through his pocket. In the same moment, he kissed Vinnie on the lips.
Vinnie just grunted. “Alright, fine. Hey, man, hey man… Since my sister ain’t come, can I get a ride home?”
“Sure,” Avery said. “Can I play with your dick on the way home?”
Vinnie clucked his tongue. “Yeah, fine, whatevuh.” He opened the door and walked out. His pants were up, but he hadn’t taken his short down, so his broad chest muscles, glistening with sweat, were bare. Avery touched one nipple and giggled. Vinnie stopped. “I mean, you best pay, motherfucker. If you wanna play wit’ it… you know-“
“Hmm… We’ll talk,” Avery said. He didn’t intend to pay anymore, not unless he got to at least give a handjob. But that depended on how long the ride would be — if it was long enough for Vinnie to get hard again and cum on the way home, that would be worth a few bucks.
Avery didn’t normally mess around with the same guy twice, but Avery thought he might make an exception for Vinnie. “You’ll have to tell me more about New York City,” Avery said with a giggle.
“Shit, lemme tell you, ain’t no one say that back in New Yawk, swear to God, baby. Back in New Yawk, e’ry motherfucker get his dick wet, fo’ real, ain’t none of that squeamish crap. So yeah, you wanna play wit’, boy, I ain’t tryin’ to stand in ya way. You need some real dick, huh? Ain’t want that prettyboy Robert, right?”
“That’s right,” Avery said.
He wondered if he could find Vinnie’s old neighborhood in Queens. That sounded like a fun place to try next.