Jews – Mansploitation

The Aryan Bottoms

When Moshe confronts the neo-Nazis protesting his synagogue, he didn’t know what he was in for! That’s cuz he winds up with Tower, the hardcore alpha with a secret need for a twink like Moshe to climb on top!

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

When Moshe saw his new neighbor — ‘Tower’ was his name, according to what Moshe had overheard — among the crowd of men near the synagogue, he marched right up to him and confronted him about the things he had said. Moshe had tried to look the other way when it only affected him, but now Tower was protesting the synagogue, and Moshe couldn’t tolerate that.
He had heard Tower through the paper-thin walls separating their apartments, ranting and raving last night about the Jews, as he talked with someone on the phone. Moshe hadn’t done anything particularly Jewy when they met, so Tower had no way of knowing Moshe was Jewish until they made eye contact there at the synagogue.
Moshe didn’t want to look the other way anymore. Rabbi Kaplan’s words of wisdom today had made him feel like he needed to become a man of action, not timidity. He should confront evil and replace it with good: a simple idea, but one that was hard to put into practice.
“I’ll have you know that those things you said last night — I could hear them through the wall — those things were wrong, and you are an anti-Semite and a big jerk and… and….” Moshe stammered over his words as the other neo-nazis hooted at him. “You shouldn’t protest us. We are kind and gentle, and we don’t want to hurt anyone.” The neo-nazis jeered and sneered. At least they moved away from the synagogue Temple Man Asaf, which let the last few elderly folks inside scurry off to the parking lot.
Tower, on the other hand, remained firmly planted to the ground, his face placid and stony. He was the biggest neo-nazi there, at well over six and a half feet tall, skin white as oyster shell, bedecked with colorful tattoos and a big square jaw like an action hero. He towered over the small, thin and delicate Moshe. He would probably not have confronted Tower if he had realized how big he was. His dimpled face and strong cheekbones would have been handsome if it weren’t for the Aryan gang tats reaching up his neck to his chin.
He actually was handsome, Moshe realized. It was hard to see because of his prison muscles and anti-Semitic tattoos, but it was there — a handsome face. Tower had sweet eyes and a potent jaw and high cheekbones like a Roman emperor.
It looked like the more Moshe spoke, the more Tower hated him, and the other neo-nazis jeered louder and louder. So Moshe just darted away. He blushed. He was glad the neo-nazis couldn’t see him anymore. He felt like an idiot even as he tried to tell himself that he had done what was right — he had expressed his beliefs, he had remained true to himself and spoken righteousness in the face of evil. He just wished he wasn’t such a thin, small man, then he might have had a chance to intimidate some of the nazi scum.
By the time he got home and made himself some dinner, the humiliating incident with the neo-nazis seemed like a distant memory. He had gone to synagogue today, which he often was too pressed for time to do, so he tried to remain proudful of that. He had been attempting to reconnect with his Jewish heritage this year. He sighed as he got the oven started, then went upstairs to change his pants.
As he opened the door, he saw a large man in his bedroom, creeping forward. He halted when Moshe saw him, and then realized it was Tower. He was here, in Moshe’s house, in his bedroom. Moshe screamed, only for Tower to dart forward and clamp one meaty palm over Moshe’s mouth.
His hand was enormous, and it easily covered Moshe’s entire face. His cries of fear were muffled by the man’s gigantic palm. His fingers were tattooed, spiderwebs covering the interior of his middle and ring fingers, so it looked like the space between those fingers was infested with spiders.
“Sssh,” Tower said. “I ain’t gonna hurt you, Jewboy.” He hissed through gritted teeth, and his other hand caressed Moshe’s tender neck. “I ain’t here to hurt ya. I’m-a give you somethin’ I’m pretty sure you’ll like.”
He lowered his hand but kept a tight grip on Moshe’s face and neck. Moshe was intensely aware of Tower’s muscular body, which was intimidating — he was a large man whose sleeveless shirt showed off his thick barrel chest and powerful frame. Neo-nazi tattoos covered his entire body, almost every scrap of flesh from his neck to his ankles.
“What… What do you want?”
“I wanna tell you somethin’ for starters,” he said. He spoke directly into Moshe’s face, so close they were virtually kissing. His big dimpled smile made Moshe swoon now that he was so close that Moshe couldn’t see his cue-ball head or his offensive tattoos. Moshe’s heart fluttered. Tower smiled menacingly. “I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry, about what I said and what happened earlier. I don’t want bad blood wit’ my neighbor. I ain’t really a neo-nazi. I mean… Yeah, I joined the Aryan Way. I did that in prison a couple years back. I had to do it to survive, man.”
“Okay…” Moshe voice faltered, weakly wavering. He barely even listened to Tower’s words because he was so terrified of what was going to happen. “Take whatever you want-“
He sighed and cocked his head to the side. “I ain’t here to rob you, man, I- But since you said that, I am gonna rob you. Ain’t a robbery if you gimme permission, so don’t go calling the police.”
“Fine!”
“But that ain’t why I came here, man. What’s yo’ name?”
“Moshe.”
“I’m Leopold. That’s my real name. Not Tower.”
“Okay, Leopold… Leopold?”
“It’s a family name.”
“Oh, I… Okay, I don’t-“
“I don’t believe in none of that neo-nazi shit. I got these tattoos to fit in.”
“Okay.”
“You don’t believe me?”
“Well…”
“Nevermind, it don’t matter,” Leopold said. “I only stay in the Aryan Way to make money, Jewboy. They got the meth market in this town locked up.”
“Oh. Okay,” Moshe said. A part of him did believe Leopold. It was hard to accept, but Leopold’s general mien right now came across more like a hardened thug who adopted a neo-nazi look to fit in. He smiled self-effacingly, deep dimples flashing in the dim light of Moshe’s bedroom.
Pretending to be neo-nazi in order to sell meth was hardly morally superior to genuinely believing in neo-naziism while coincidentally selling meth, Moshe thought. It wasn’t much of an excuse.
“I want you to do somethin’ for me,” Leopold said. He smiled at the sight of an iPad on the nightstand. He scooped it up and put it in his baggy jeans pocket. Then he sat on the bed and slowly untied his heavy military boots.
“Uh, what are-“
“Get down on the ground, on your knees and open your mouth, Jewboy,” Leopold said. His nostrils flared. “If you’re still here in a minute, we’re gonna mess around, prison-style. One of us might cry a little. One of us is gonna taste a whole lotta cum. One of us just might beg fo’ mercy. You might be able to guess which is which. You can run away if you want. I’ll just hurry up and rob you, then get out. But if you are still here when I get my clothes off… well, we gonna have a little fun. At least one of us is gonna enjoy it. Fair warning: it won’t be kosher.”
Moshe’s mouth dropped. He had always loved skinheads — not the racist kind — shaved men, smooth skin, he loved it all. Tower — or Leopold as he thought of him now — was so muscle-bound and intense he was entirely too much for Moshe, who told himself over and over to leave. Moshe greatly appreciated a sturdy male physique like what Leopold had.
The safe thing to do was run away. He could grab his cell phone out the door, and he could run to the McCloud family down the street. He knew they kept their front door unlocked, so he could just run in, and make noise, wake them up, call the police. He’d be safe.
He didn’t run away. He kept telling himself to do so, but he wanted more than anything to service this hot alpha male. He wasn’t going to be able to force himself to give up on that. He was beginning to believe him about not really being an anti-Semite.
Leopold had taken off both of his boots. He sneered at Moshe. “You fuckin’ pervert. You so nasty, boi. You want me to spit on you?”
“Yes-“
He spat before Moshe could finish answering. He let out a huge wad of saliva that splatted all over Moshe’s face. Moshe sputtered and Leopold guffawed. Moshe was mesmerized as Leopold took off that sleeveless shirt. He had massive pecs, which he flexed and laughed when he saw Moshe’s hungry look.
“I hate weak men,” he said with a hiss that sent a chill up Moshe’s spine. “Take off your clothes. All your clothes.”
Moshe trembled as he unbuttoned his shirt and slowly took it off. Leopold simply undid his belt and let his black pants fall to the ground. He stepped out of them, scratched at his massive cock through the plain white boxers he wore, then pulled them down as well. They were, Moshe suspected, prison-issued underwear.
He was so scared that he didn’t quite process what happened as he dropped his own pants: Leopold simply climbed on the bed and laid on his back on the edge, so his head hung down. There were more spiderwebs tattooed on his face and even spiders tattooed crawling out of his eye sockets — Moshe wondered, terrified, if the spiders represented murder. That was what tears meant when they were tattooed in, he thought, but what did spider-tears mean?
Leopold was so tall he didn’t fit on the bed when he laid crossways. His feet dangled off the edge. He grumbled. “It’s like being in prison again, man. I was seven inches too tall for them bunks. It was like fucking torture after a few months man. I couldn’t stretch my legs at night. It seems minor but it ain’t.”
It was only as he talked that Moshe realized Leopold was laying on the bed as though in position to get throated. In a position for Leopold to get throated. Not Moshe.
Leopold lay on his back with his head dangling over the side of the bed. Moshe shook as he approached. This surely wasn’t right?
“Come here, pervert,” Leopold said. He reached out and grabbed Moshe’s dick with one of those huge hands — Moshe’s dick was not small by any means, but in comparison with Leopold’s massive paws and his large head, Moshe looked like a miniature person. He had to stand on his toes to get his crotch lined up with Leopold’s head. Leopold smiled, flashing deep dimples that would have been handsome if they weren’t on a menacing tattooed face.
Then he opened his mouth and swallowed Moshe’s dick down to the root. He gagged as though he hated it, but his tongue ran up and down Moshe’s shaft like he had extensive practice at it. Moshe was so shocked he yelped and screamed, but muffled the sound himself.
He leaned back a little, as though he’d get in trouble for touching a neo-nazi man’s tattoos. But the man’s body beckoned. Leopold struggled to keep Moshe’s dick in his throat, and every time he gagged, his corded chest muscles roiled. Those softball-sized pecs flexed and relaxed in sync — was that what massive muscles normally looked like? Moshe had never seen anything like that in person. Even as he told himself this was dangerous and he ought to run away, his hands roamed forward and grabbed those nipples.
They were hard beneath his touch. Leopold’s body stretched to accommodate Moshe’s dick, and Moshe writhed, barely able to support himself on his toes as his manhood hardened and sent throes of passion through his limbs. His knees were weak.
The sound of moist suckling filled the air. Moshe could tell he was leaking precum into Leopold’s mouth, but that somehow didn’t seem to bother him. Leopold continued enthusiastically even as his throat sputtered and choked. Leopold managed to stick his tongue out past his lips and flickeringly touch Moshe’s balls with it.
Then at last Leopold pulled off. He growled at Moshe. “I don’t like you, you little bitch. You talk like a goddamn pussy.” Leopold’s eyes narrowed. He jumped to his feet on the bed, his body so big Moshe wondered if he was going to shatter the bedframe. He crouched low, glaring at Moshe, his heavy-hanging balls dangling just in front of Moshe’s face. He had a girthful cock with a red and black swastika tattoo on it. He spat again on Moshe’s face. “I was just… I wondered… Uh… You were strokin’ my dick, and, uh…-“
Leopold jumped down from the bed. He marched forward, his chest bumping up against Moshe as though challenging him to a fight. Since he was so much taller than Moshe, Leopold bumped his chest and belly against Moshe’s face. He outweighed Moshe by more than a hundred pounds of solid muscle, so Moshe could do little more than stumble backwards, pinned against the bedroom wall.
‘Oh damn,’ he thought to himself, ‘am I about to get jewbashed now? Had I been given the gift of one outrageous muscley smooth-bear jerking me off and I squandered it? I shouldn’t have said anything.’ Moshe cursed himself.
“Lemme be clear. I would never swallow no dick,” he said through gritted teeth, stepping even closer with every word until his sweaty belly-meat smacked into Moshe’s face. Moshe could taste the sweat from the giant swastika over his bellybutton, which seemed to taste different, more sour and rancid, than the rest of his sweat. “I’d rip yo’ dick off and choke you to death with it before I touch your dick like this-” he grabbed Moshe’s dick with one callused hand. His rough-hewn fingers stroked it, and he laughed at Moshe’s pale face and frightened shake. “Don’t you ever suggest I might do that. I ate Jews like you up when I was in prison.”
“Oh, okay. Sure. Sure, uh… Leopold,” Moshe said. His voice sounded weak and pinched, and he knew he was rambling, but he couldn’t help himself. “I’ll uh… Sure. You’re not into that. I realize that. You would never jerk me off-“
“Quit talkin’ about it, Jew,” he said. He saw Moshe’s jewelry box nearby, and picked it up. He looked at the handful of cheap necklaces and bracelets, sneered and tossed them on the ground near his pants. “They ain’t worth jack shit.” He sniffed like he was offended. “I’m still gonna steal ’em. Cuz fuck you, that’s why.” He spat on Moshe’s face again.
“Okay. Yeah. I’m sorry. I don’t have any nice jewelry. You might get a few dollars for-!… uh… for that, uh, one… gold bracelet there.” Moshe’s voice trailed off because Leopold grabbed his hand and shoved it behind himself, in between Leopold’s own asscheeks, which were plump, juicy and tattooed with crude statements about various races, inviting them to lick his ass.
Moshe rather wanted to act out some of those statements — Leopold had a round, firm and delicious-looking pair of cheeks, aside from the rude tattoos. But Leopold forced Moshe’s pinkie finger to separate from his others, and before Moshe realized what he wanted, he pushed Moshe’s pinkie into his ass.
Leopold gripped the dresser in front of him, leaning forward a little to separate his cheeks. Moshe gulped nervously. He inserted his pinkie back and forth, slowly at first as Leopold yelped and breathed heavy, struggling to accept it. His broad back muscles rippled, sending distortions up and down the intricate tattoos that crisscrossed his flesh.
“Deeper, Jew!”
As Moshe fingered him, Leopold slowly, painfully moved his body around. He opened each drawer of the dresser and threw all of Moshe’s clothes onto the floor. He stopped only when he found a wad of cash — Moshe’s emergency money. He threw the money onto the pile of clothes and jewelry he intended to steal.
Then Leopold roared, his bullish nostrils flaring. He gripped Moshe’s wrist and held on tight, digging his nails into the flesh. Moshe yelped, thinking he had made a mistake — now, he thought, Leopold’s violent side would come through.
“Listen to me, Jew, since you ain’t got a lotta nice stuff to give me, I’m gonna have to punish you.”
But instead of hitting him, he guided Moshe’s hand to more violently finger his ass. Moshe slipped a second finger in, and Leopold groaned with a mixture of agony and rage. His face was ruddy now, the color spreading down to his massive chest, which was shaved perfectly smooth though Moshe got the impression he was hairy by nature.
Then he jumped around in a full circle to face Moshe, whose fingers left his ass. Leopold’s face was crimson, and he scrunched up his eyes as he roared in frustration and hatred. Moshe’s balls crawled up in his sac, and he was overcome, yet again, by certainty that this was it, that Leopold was about to reveal his true nature.
But Leopold simply made a face like a Hulk, and he flexed his arms like he was trying to terrify Moshe (who could not possibly had been any more frightened than he’d been ever since Leopold appeared in his home). He grunted loudly, then spat once again on Moshe’s face. He stomped angrily back to the bed and bent over it.
It was both obvious what he wanted and obvious that he didn’t want it at all. Leopold was in position to get it up the ass, that was clear. He bent face-first over the bed and stuck his ass in the air. He spread his asscheeks.
But he was obviously, blatantly and drastically too tall for Moshe to ram him in that position. His ass was well above Moshe’s head. Moshe stood there like an idiot, looking up at Leopold’s ass and dangling cock and balls.
“Whatchoo doin’ back there?!” Leopold barked. He turned his head and realized that Moshe couldn’t reach his ass. “Oh yeah,” Leopold said with a dry chuckle, “I forgot you was a fuckin’ weak-ass midgetty Jew.” He lowered his ass, dropping his hips and resting on his knees, his entire upper body splayed over the bed. He sneered at Moshe.
Moshe stood there with his dick behind Leopold’s ass, too terrified to actually insert it.
“I hate limp-wristed Jews like you,” he said. He spat towards Moshe again, but this time his head was too far away. He ended up just spitting on the bed.
Then before Moshe could respond, Leopold jutted his hips backward. He grabbed Moshe’s dick to keep it in place as he backed his ass onto it. Then he let go and gripped the bedspread, letting out a long, slow howl of pain. His giant body shook and vibrated.
Moshe gasped. He once again leaned back, unwilling to touch Leopold in any way that Leopold didn’t initiate. But as Leopold ground his ass and lowered his head, it was apparent that he needed a pair of hands to guide him. Moshe tentatively grabbed the man’s wide fleshy asscheeks, trembling at the feel of their vibrating thickness. His fingers dug into a tattooed invitation for Asian people to swallow Tower’s farts. He closed his eyes, certain that that would be it, that Leopold was going to attack him.
But he didn’t. He kept working his hips back and forth, even as he continued to grumble about blacks and Jews. It sounded like he was in too much pain to speak clearly, but that didn’t stop him from spitting invective at Moshe.
“Fuck you, you little squealing piggie. If we was in prison right now, I’d pimp you out to the mud-people,” he said. He hung his head low, cradling it in his biceps as he struggled to accept Moshe’s dick. His other hand crept lower and stroked himself off.
As Moshe began plowing harder and harder, he realized that Leopold wasn’t getting upset about him touching his ass. So he kneaded those jiggling orbs of tattooed flesh, then let his hands roam upwards, massaging Leopold’s rippling back muscles.
“You really don’t buy into that nazi stuff?” Moshe asked.
“Not at all,” Leopold said. “I just like making money. Ha! I bet you know about that, Jew. If your people bought more meth than the nazis, I’d have a fucking yarmulke tattooed on my face.”
“Really?”
“Well… Probably not that specifically,” he said, wincing but covering up the pain with a firm jaw. “Aren’t tattoos forbidden? But anyway, I’d be Jewish. You wanna taste my cum, Jew?”
“Uh…-“
“I thought so,” he said. Then he threw his head back and moaned. His asshole clenched, sending Moshe over the line into the throes of the most intense orgasm of his life. He gasped as Leopold lifted his upper body, so he was kneeling now, next to the bed, head upright.
Leopold’s muscles all flexed at once. Moshe clutched his thick torso, face planted in the meaty swastika tattooed over the center of his back. It was all Moshe could see as his climax erupted deep within him. Their size difference made ramming difficult when Leopold had been bent over, but now that he kneeled, it was impossibly awkward. Moshe had to clutch him like a tree trunk he was trying to shimmy up, in order to keep his spasming dick inside Leopold’s tattooed ass.
Cum sprayed within Leopold, who groaned and grunted as his hole tightened hard around Moshe’s dick. Sweat dripped down his German-tattooed skin, its salty flavor overwhelming Moshe’s senses. He had never experienced anything as intense as the feeling of cum pouring into Leopold’s tight fat ass. His body undulated beneath Moshe’s tiny delicate fingers.
A loud smacking sound could be heard — Moshe was so overcome by passion that he didn’t process it right away. Then pain exploded in his face, followed by a surge of salty cum flavor: Leopold had slapped him hard, with a hand covered in nazi cum. He smeared that wad of semen all over Moshe’s face, and pushed him to the ground. He stood over Moshe with his dick in hand.
His phone rang. Leopold grabbed it from his pile of clothes. He sneered at Moshe and used one toe to rub the cum around on Moshe’s face. “Yo,” he said into the phone. “Yeah. I’m still in there. The Jew was complainin’ like a whiny little Jew, so I had to pop him one. He ain’t got much money, for a Jew. But he got a bit. I took a shit on his pillow. He’s tied up in the bathroom now. Fuck you, man, I’m sending a message to fuckin’ Israel. The message is ‘eat shit, Jews’. What’re you in a hurry for? You got a hot date with some Jew? Ha, yeah, okay. I’ll be out in a minute.”
He quickly threw his clothes back on. When Moshe moved to do the same, Leopold glared at him. He didn’t need to say anything to know that wasn’t allowed. Moshe remained there on his knees, cum drying on his face.
“You can clean yo’self up in eleven minutes,” Leopold said. He set the alarm clock by Moshe’s bedside. “You sit there wit’ my cum on your face until then, Jew. You nasty-ass Jew. Get forgiveness, and find Christ.”
“Okay-“
“Shut up. And when you call the cops, you tell them it was a black guy, okay? If you tell them it was a black guy, I’ll come back. I’ll teach you a lesson about Jewry you never forget. Got it?” He raised his eyebrows like he was asking whether Moshe understood what he was really offering — to keep coming back and getting wrecked by him at night, so long as Moshe didn’t tell the cops who it was.
“Oh, uh… okay.”
“Good. Now sit there and think about how nasty you is,” Leopold said. He hefted Moshe’s belongings in a sac and headed out the door.
Moshe sighed and leaned back. He wasn’t going to stay in this spot for eleven minutes, but he saw now reason to clean off his face. He wanted to bask in the smells and sensations of Leopold’s cum on his face, and he wanted that to last as long as possible.

The Aryan

Avery is working as a clerk at a low-rent motel near the state prison, so when an Aryan alpha is released after nineteen long years behind bars, it’s up to Avery to alleviate his unsatiated urges!

Can Avery help this possible-Nazi brute get his load off?!

Read it now as an ebook!

Or read the whole thing here!

Avery’s hands shook from the moment Hassle walked into the lobby of the Top Inn, where Avery was a clerk. Avery tensed up and bugged his eyes up at sight of Hassle’s broad shoulders, square jaw and simmering swagger. His cueball head gleamed, and his square jaw jutted, chewing, boxing, his crooked nose and cauliflowered ears giving him the mien of a fighter. He sent a chill up Avery’s spine. Hassle exuded violence like an aura. He had a smile on his face, but that just made him look more sinister.
That’s because Hassle was an Aryan, fresh out of state prison. At more than six and a half feet tall, he was a towering beast of a man, all bone-white skin covered in tattoos — swastikas and Gothic lettering and a map of Germany on his forearm — and a chest that puffed out, straining against the fabric of his over-tight tee shirt.
He had worn that tee shirt when he was incarcerated nineteen years ago. Back then, he had been skinny, that was why the tee shirt no longer fit. It clung to his muscles like a second skin, and his tattoos were clearly visible through the threadbare fabric.
A scowl plastered on Hassle’s face. “Donchu be scared,” Hassle said, showing off his dimples — he would have been charming and handsome if he weren’t a nazi. “I ain’t no kinda racist or nothin’.”
“Oh.” Avery was new to this job, so he fumbled with the reservation software. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he waited for it to work. Hassle looked down his nose at Avery.
At last, it was done. Avery slid the key to Room 244 over the counter to Hassle.
“Here you go.” Avery held his breath.
“I just got outta lockup. You know how it works in there, right? You seen movies? You gotta pledge a gang-“
“Sure.”
“And you gotta do what the gang tells ya, you feel me?”
“Uh-huh.”
“So if they say you gotta talk shit ‘bout black folk and put a swastika on ya belly, then that’s what you gotta do,” Hassle said.
“Right, yeah. Gotta do what the boss says,” Avery said. He forced a weak, wan smile on his face. He did understand having to join a disagreeable group to survive, but in this moment, it hardly mattered — all he could think about was how terrifying Hassle was. He loomed overhead like a moai. “Uh-huh.”
What Avery wanted to say but didn’t have the wherewithal to do was that he understood and wouldn’t hold it against Hassle. Avery worked at the Top Inn of Abilene, Texas, which was near the state prison. It was a cheap motel, and a significant part of the clientele were recent releasees needing a place to crash. Avery knew that coming in.
“Ya see?” Hassle lifted his shirt to show off the swastika crudely tatted on his belly. His prison-starved body was devoid of fat, so he had a six-pack that was almost too perfect — it looked painfully lean. He flexed his chest. “Huh?”
He hadn’t said that Avery should touch it, but he looked at Avery with a sort of a flirtatious smile. Avery’s hand moved as though of its own accord and touched Hassle’s six-pack. Avery was too scared to be really aroused though, despite his natural predilection for appreciating the male physique. That swastika consumed Avery’s attention, and Hassle’s massive body loomed overhead like a thunderstorm.
There’d been other hardcore gangsters, these Russian guys, a bunch of cholos with teardrop tattoos and the like. They were intimidating in their own way too. Swastikas were just such a taboo in Avery’s life he found it hard to look away. He blushed and looked down at his feet.
“Whatchoo think?”
“It’s… Uh… Okay.” Avery blushed. “I’m not like… in charge, of, you know… anything besides the keys. And the vending machines. You don’t have to convince me of anything.”
Hassle shrugged and dropped his hand holding his shirt to his side. His alabaster pecs rippled, and he sucked on his teeth. He grabbed his cock through his jeans, which fit better than his shirt — he had worn his jeans slung low when he was arrested. He was a thug at the time of his arrest, he hung out with the black kids at his old high school in Houston — he sold coke with them, this was in the early seventies, so crack wasn’t a thing. In prison though, he lost touch with his homeboys and had gotta join up with the Aryan Way, lest the other gangs take a crack at him. He walked outta there shirtless, “See ya, y’know… Later tonight or whenever.” Hassle said before he walked out the door. He backed out, so he kept eye contact with Avery the whole way out, his bare chest gleaming with sweat. He probably hadn’t had a real shower in nineteen years, not a shower in a normal bathroom.
That thought sent a shiver of desire through Avery, but only after the Nazi giant was gone. Avery breathed a sigh of relief. He felt safe again.
The lobby was quiet as a rabbit, the only sound the tick-tocking of the perpetually incorrect clock above the desk. Avery sighed. Now he kinda missed the excitement of having an Aryan in the lobby.
And his muscles were remarkable. He would have been quite handsome if it weren’t for the tattoos. He could be a model.
Or more likely, if he weren’t in prison, he’d have gorged himself on beer and french fries, and he’d be fat right now. Quite a physique conundrum.
But all afternoon, that final moment hung in his brain. Had Hassle grabbed his crotch like that because he was signaling Avery should come jerk him off?
It almost seemed like it. He had even said he might see Avery “later tonight”. What did that mean?
A lot of men at the Top Inn did want that. That was one of the reasons Avery wanted this job. He liked the alphas and ex-cons who came out from the state prison with urges and stiffies and no women to come rub their backs and lick their dicks and tell them they’re still handsome. Avery wanted to be that guy. Ex-cons don’t ask too many questions. They just want to bust a nut.
And there were maybe a dozen of them who seemed likely to agree if Avery went and propositioned them right now. There were a couple black guys, this cholo who was definitely interested but was kinda fat, what a pity, some weird like Laotian guy who might be worth it, a few plain old whitey-whites. One of them was quite alluring, the white man in Room 29.
But he wasn’t the statuesque muscle-mountain that was Hassle. That was who Avery’s mind continued to drift to.
He was a nazi, Avery reminded himself. He wasn’t safe. Avery shouldn’t go and seduce nazis. That was bound to end poorly.
He got a text from Officer Heartley, asking him to start a fresh pot of coffee — Heartley came in most mornings to talk to Avery, drink coffee and look for open warrants among the people at the motel. That made Avery feel more confident. He started the coffee and responded to Heartley, letting him know that he “might be in Room 244” when Heartley showed up. Avery felt safer then, not that he was planning on going to Hassle’s room. If Avery wasn’t around, Officer Heartley would come looking for him.
Hassle was still a nazi, after all.
That was the permission Avery needed, in his mind, to go see what Hassle meant by grabbing his crotch in that suggestive manner.
Leaving the lobby with the ‘back in ten minutes’ sign turned over, Avery went to the two-hundred-block of rooms, on the second floor. They all had doors that faced the outside, and a window next to the door. Avery told himself he was just going to check that Hassle wasn’t doing something illegal.
The blinds were closed, but not quite all the way, and the light was on inside. Avery could see clearly through the edge of the window into the room.
Hassle was in there, doing push-ups, wearing only a pair of prison-issued boxers. His plump ass was perfectly round, and it swallowed up a bead of sweat that Avery watched slide down Hassle’s spine. Avery gulped. His shoulders flexed up and down as he rose and fell with military precision. You could rap to the beat of his push-ups, Avery thought.
He knocked on the door without a moment’s hesitation, or even really a first one, since Avery had never decided to go through with it. It just occurred to him Hassle would be sweaty and intense and arousing even if he turned Avery down, and Avery wanted to experience his presence again. He held his breath as he awaited Hassle opening the door.
“Howdy,” Hassle said, a casual smile showing off his dimples. He cackled and slapped one of his trunk-like thighs, which made his dick sway in those paper-thin but starchy white boxers. Avery’s eyes opened wide, entranced by Hassle’s massive chest and the scent of his musky body.
“Hi,” Avery said. He blushed.
Hassle grabbed Avery by the shirt and dragged him in. Avery held onto Hassle’s iron-like biceps, unable to tear his eyes away from Hassle’s bright stare and deep dimples. He had brilliant flashing blue eyes.
“What do you want from me?” Hassle said, screwing up his lips like he was furious. He narrowed his eyes to slits, then planted his lips on Avery’s before Avery could react. His tongue rammed into Avery’s mouth like it was Poland, and Avery’s hands fluttered, then gripped Hassle’s muscle-ripped chest.
His skin was hot and moist with sweat. The air conditioning was not turned on yet in the room, even though it was stuffy and sweltering in here — Hassle was used to the unchilled air of a prison, that was why. He hadn’t yet thought to check the air conditioning.
The scent of his sweat assaulted Avery’s nostrils, as Avery swooned in his powerful arms and accepted his aggressive kiss. He could sense the sexual frustration roiling withing Hassle, the nineteen years of incarceration, the complete lack of women…
No wonder Avery could feel an erection poking through those thin boxer shorts.
The kiss left Avery flummoxed. He had a knack for seducing men but they almost never kissed him. Avery didn’t usually ask because a lot of them were uncomfortable with the request even if Avery wasn’t pushy about it.
But Hassle didn’t seem to care, though he kept a sour look on his square mug like he was being forced into it. His tongue was firm and aggressive, and it battered Avery’s mouth, then his lips and even his smooth cheeks. Avery was ensconced in Hassle’s powerful frame. Hassle was well over six and a half feet tall, so he had to lower his head to meet Avery’s lips.
“Huh?” Hassle asked when he pulled away. His hot breath condensed on Avery’s face, and Avery was enveloped in the greasy sweat pooling on his tattooed paleness. Avery’s uniform shirt was already soaked. “How you wanna mess wit’ me? Tell me now cuz I don’t like listenin’ to my bitches when I cornhole ‘em-” He held up a hand as though to forestall objections. “I just don’t like hearin’ complaints and shit. So pick now-“
“I, uh-“
Hassle slapped Avery on the cheek. “Don’t interrupt me. You pretty as pink, but I’ll still fuck you up fo’ disrespect.” He paused. “I ain’t a violent man, I just don’t accept disrespect. I won’t mess you up, and I wouldn’t even hurt’cha for bein’ colored or Jewish or nothin’, I love the Jews, swear to God. My little sister’s youngest daughter is half-Jewish on her daddy’s side, and I love her to bits — my sister won’t let me see her on account of she’s a bitch and she don’t like nazis, but I like the little Jewess.”
“Oh. Uh-huh.” Avery gulped.
“So you tell me how you wanna do it? You wanna do anal? You want me to plow into that butt?” Hassle grabbed Avery’s asscheek and squeezed so hard it hurt. Avery squirmed, and Hassle grunted right into his ear. “Use ya big boy voice.”
“I, uh… I wanna mess around, and…” Avery knew he should ask for something that was kind of a stretch. He didn’t often get it up the ass from skinheads, so that was special enough, but he had a feeling Hassle would do more than the average ex-con. “Will you… gimme a reacharound?”
Hassle paused, then shrugged. “Hell yeah, boi, I can do that. Ain’t nothin’ like makin’ a man jack off wit’ yo’ dick in his ass. Make him cum before you cum, I like that. Could take hours.” He eyed Avery up. “I mean, not you. You gonna cum real quick. I make you orgasm right away.” He sniffled and dropped his boxers, revealing a massive white cock the color of heavy cream. “Go’n then. Get it wet.”
Avery dropped to his knees, heart thumping. He couldn’t believe this was really happening. He opened his mouth and let the tip of Hassle’s dick slip onto his tongue. Immediately Hassle gripped him by the head and forced it in. He was still limp, so Avery couldn’t swallow it, and it roped around his face, leaving a layer of dicksweat, the smell of which clung to Avery’s upper lip.
He cupped Hassle’s balls with one hand, and he chased the tip with his lips. He could have grabbed it with his other hand, but Avery preferred to tease him.
Until he looked up at Hassle, whose no-nonsense frown was aimed down at him. The subtext was clear: quit playin’ with it, pansy.
So Avery grabbed it with the other hand and held it by the root, while he put the knob in his mouth and choked up as much spit as he could manage. A baritone rumble came out of Hassle, whose cock rocketed right to full erection faster than Avery had ever seen. In moments his foot long behemoth was pulsating on Avery’s tongue, while still Avery gripped the root with one hand and cupped his ballsac with the other. His sac was so sweaty it was silky, and the scent of his aroma wafted into Avery’s nostrils.
Having jerked a lot of guys, Avery was good at it. He could deep-throat anyone, and he loved getting throated down. Hassle was probably not used to anyone handling his meat willingly, or at least, he acted like he wasn’t expecting that.
“Ah, shit, you got throat like velvet…” He held Avery’s head in place as though he had to stop him from running away, and he pumped his trunk-like thighs to fuck his throat like a pussy. Actually that’s not quite right either. Hassle didn’t ram Avery’s face, he made love to it. He wrapped one of his hands over Avery’s mouth, as though to conceal the fact that Hassle’s dick was in there, so he didn’t have to actually watch Avery swallow his dick, and he used his other hand to force Avery’s lips to tightly seal around his shaft.
He drilled his dick in without regard for Avery’s choking, but he didn’t do it in an aggressive way like Avery would have guessed. He slid his dick in as though he expected Avery to grow to adore it filling up his throat, which he did. Avery was glad to choke on a massive slab of manhood like that.
“Spread that neck open, lemme feel it open up,” he said softly, cooing, licking his lips. One of his hands massaged Avery’s neck like a vet getting a dog to swallow a pill. “Keep eye contact when you swallow my dick.”
That was difficult because Hassle had an intense gaze, but Avery managed to do it despite his thumping heart and sputtering throat. Hassle’s dark eyes flashed down at him, overtop a sick grin — he obviously liked seeing Avery struggle just as much Avery enjoyed doing it — and he even laughed when Avery’s hands reached up to his pecs. He stooped over a little to give Avery better access to his nipples, and he flexed his pectoral muscles like a stripper.
His cock throbbed, precum leaking over Avery’s tongue. Hassle swayed his hips, moaning seductively every time Avery choked on it. When some drool snuck out of Avery’s mouth, Hassle smiled and smeared it over his face.
“Hmmm… You handle my dick nice and nasty, and I ain’t even gotta train you in the proper way,” Hassle said. “That’s nice. That’s real nice.” He sucked on his middle-finger, the one that had just smeared his own precum over Avery’s cheeks, so he tasted his own cum. He grimaced like it was nasty, but then he did it again.
He held onto Avery’s ears and drilled into his throat. He smiled at the frantic expression in Avery’s eyes. He moaned caringly as he did, lightly slapping Avery on the cheek when he felt resistance.
“You ready fo’ some butt-stuff? I’m-a get deep inside you. Give you the reacharound of a lifetime.” When Avery didn’t immediately answer, he repeated himself but with hand motions, like sign language. He kept pumping his hips to make love with his dick to Avery’s gullet the whole time.
Avery nodded the best he could with Hassle’s entire manhood in his throat. He gasped for air when Hassle pulled it out, but his gasps were swallowed up by another kiss. Hassle rammed his tongue into Avery’s.
There was something oddly dispassionate about his kisses. Avery had no way of knowing that Hassle kissed him as a show of dominance — in his prison gang, that was how someone like Hassle took an exclusive claim on a weaker man. If he hadn’t kissed Avery, that would be a sign that Avery was a prison bitch, or would be punked out for money; kissing was a sign of affectionate ownership. That was why Hassle kissed him, without regard for the cum on his lips — there was no room for squeamishness behind bars. Gagging at the taste of your own cum on “your man’s” lips got you a punch from all the real men in the gang.
“I’m ready,” Avery said when Hassle pulled off him. Avery had brought his own lube, luckily, so he smeared some on his ass while Hassle bent him over the motel bed.
“Alright, here’s ya reacharound,” Hassle said wearily, with a grunt. Though he enjoyed the actual practice of a reacharound — in particular the moment when a man’s ass clenched as he shot his wad, clenching tight enough to bring Hassle to orgasm — he didn’t so much enjoy the actual stroking of a cock. Once he got into it, he could forget he was doing it and just focus on destroying that bottom boy’s ass. He slipped one hand around Avery’s slim body and held his dick just as he rammed his own cock into Avery’s asshole.
A burst of pleasure hit Hassle, who moaned and slapped Avery’s asscheek. He smiled. He had rammed plenty of men before his release from prison earlier today, but it had rarely been as good as this. Avery was even better than most other men Hassle had ever been with. He didn’t whimper when Hassle rammed his dick in, he just gritted his teeth and loosened his ass the best he could.
“There you go, baby, lemme in, I’ll make you feel so good,” Hassle said with a howl. “I-” He bit his lip and stopped talking because Avery’s ass sucked in the last inch of his cockmeat like a vacuum cleaner, and Hassle was shocked. For a moment he thought Avery’s ass wouldn’t let go and he’d be stuck deep in there. He didn’t mind that idea.
But Avery gripped and released, and Hassle let out a cringing moan that echoed in Avery’s ear. Hassle’s hand began sliding up and down Avery’s cock, which was already hard and throbbing, leaking precum over Hassle’s fingers. Waves of pleasure wracked the both of them, and Avery let out a howl. Hassle instinctively swallowed his sound as though to hide from the guards doing their rounds.
He pounded away. He kissed Avery again as he ground his dick within Avery’s ass, and this time avery was less intimidating, so he kissed back. He writhed in ecstasy swaddled in Hassle’s powerful arms.
A loud cry escaped from Avery’s lips, but Hassle swallowed the sound up. Hassle groaned, his big body pressing down on Avery’s back. Avery squirmed and gasped.
It was one of the most potent orgasms of Avery’s life. He couldn’t believe it could feel this good. He wanted to cry and beg for more, but he didn’t think he could take anything more intense than this. He just clawed at the bedspread beneath himself as a prostate orgasm erupted deep within him.
Cum sprayed into his ass, and Avery moaned. Hassle’s hand furiously stroked his dick off. Avery even lifted one feet off the floor as waves of pleasure crashed over him. The smell of jizz exploded in the motel room, as Avery panted and begged for it to never end.
“Goddamn, boy,” Hassle murmured into his ear. His voice was tense and moist, and he gritted his teeth as he came.
He shot a massive load, wad after wad filling Avery up. He could feel it sloshing within him, like Hassle hadn’t cum his entire time in prison and now had all that built-up nutjuice ready to go. Avery knew that wasn’t true, but he couldn’t help but think it as he felt Hassle’s rod throb and shoot more and more cum into him. The heat seeped into Avery’s flesh.
“Shit…” Avery mewled.
“Aaaah….” Hassle held up his right hand, which glistened with Avery’s cum. Avery had shot a pretty big load as well, so it dripped down his palm in clumps. His dick slowly limpened in Avery’s ass, and with every passing second, Avery found it more and more difficult to pay attention to anything but that sensation.
In the Aryan Way, being “squeamish” with your prison “girlfriend” was a faux pas. There was no rule about what you had to do with your prison bitch, prison wife, jail girlfriend, etc, at least not a strict, consistent rule. But when one Aryan sucked his “girlfriend”‘s cum off his fingers, the others usually did too, lest they be called squeamish. The bigger men like Hassle competed over who could be the least squeamish — as long as they didn’t take it in the ass or swallow dick, they didn’t lose any face.
So Hassle actually liked sucking his bottom’s cum off his fingers. It wasn’t the first time he had done it. The taste was gross, the texture snotty, and his stomach rebelled, making him gag; but it was intense, visceral and so real he had craved it every moment he was behind bars. His limp dick twitched in Avery’s ass.
“Ugh, it’s nasty,” Hassle said with a laugh. But he jerked his fingers clean just the same. He was a little queasy when he was done, but it felt good. He let his cock flop out of Avery’s sensitive asshole. Cum spilled out too, onto the mattress. Hassle chuckled. “You got my mattress all nasty.”
Avery stood and stretched his legs. “I’ll put you in a new room,” he said, “if you promise to let me wake you up in the morning.”
Hassle frowned. “Nah. Not in the mornin’. This is my first night outta prison, man. I ain’t gettin’ up till noon.”
“Perfect. That’s when I get off duty. I’ll come in and wake you up with a mouth on your dick,” Avery said. He put his clothes back on. “There’s a cop on his way to get coffee, just so you know. He gets coffee here this time every morning. Don’t be scared.”
“I won’t. I’ll be sleepin’ sound as a pound, motherfucker, waitin’ for yo’ mouth to tell me it’s time to wake up,” Hassle said.