kissing – Mansploitation

Reacharound From a Soccer Jock

Simon and soccer player Octavio share a dorm room, but when Octavio gets dumped and has a stiffy that won’t go down, Simon is eager to help out! Can he accept this Uruguayan exchange student’s exotic machismo and his powerful manhood?

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Read the whole thing here!

“Don’t worry, he won’t wake up,” Octavio’s voice filtered into Simon’s mind as he slept.
But that wasn’t quite enough to wake him up yet. Simon lingered in between sleep and wakefulness, as the conversation beneath him grew steadily louder and louder. Octavio’s deep voice echoed in the dorm room they shared.
Simon had come to GHU just three weeks ago, and he already disliked his dormmate. It was tough because, while Octavio was a prick, he was also a handsome soccer star. Simon loved his square jaw, broad shoulders and deep, dark eyes, his unbridled machismo, his bulging muscles that didn’t fit in the too-small soccer shorts he wore to bed. He was rough and brusque and seemed much older than his age. His jaw was broad, his hair short like a soldier, his chest perpetually shirtless.
His jersey and those musty shorts lay crumpled on the floor. Simon sat up as he heard the argument in the bed beneath him grow more heated. Octavio had brought his girlfriend over to the dorm. It was awkward, to have those two giggling and flirting, probably touching — maybe fucking — or at least, you know… touching each other — in the same room as Simon, while Simon wasn’t involved at all. Not a double date, not a friend of a friend, not a party. Simon had no connection to what was happening in his room.
Octavio’s frustrated voice muttered, muffled by the bed separating them. It sounded pleading. Was he asking her for something? Simon wondered if his breathing sounded like he was asleep. How do asleep people breathe? He exhaled slowly. Octavio and his girlfriend probably couldn’t hear though, they were talking, in increasingly animated voices. Octavio sounded frustrated.
“I don’t care, Octavio, don’t be a jerk! Why can’t we wait?!” That was Mandy, Octavio’s girlfriend. She was kind of a bitch, but she was beautiful — big tits, long legs, a round ass, a hefty head of mouse-brown hair. Mandy and Octavio had hooked up two weeks ago, but it already felt like forever. They argued constantly. She set up tasks for Octavio to do a lot, she seemed to think she was his social manager. She wanted Octavio to confront various people about wrongs done, to switch classes and majors, to say various things to various people in specific tones of voice, to buy her things even though she was the one from a wealthy family, while Octavio had to borrow money from her to buy the crap she insisted on. She’d barely looked at Simon. Women like her didn’t notice men like him existed.
“I been waiting!” he said with a groan. Octavio backed away from the dorm bed beneath Simon. She still lay there. Octavio must have been undressing, and maybe she did too? Simon heard a flurry of activity underneath him, which might have been her putting clothes on. Octavio’s face was ruddy and tense
He wore only a clean white jockstrap. The bulge of his dick would have been visible if it weren’t so dark in here, Simon had seen that on several occasions. When it was really hot, Octavio walked around in his jockstrap, either uncaring or unaware of how much his bare ass got Simon’s attention, especially when it was cradled by the straps of his jock.
Hoping to avoid any awkward situations, Simon pretended not to wake up. He couldn’t help but sneak peeks at Octavio’s nearly-naked soccer-toned body, however. Octavio was a soccer phenom back in his native Uruguay — he claimed to have been offered a position as a player for a professional club, but turned it down to go to school in America, here in the middle of nowhere. Simon wasn’t entirely sure he believed Octavio about the professional team offer, but it was plausible. He was the best soccer player on the GHU team, or so everybody said. Soccer fans seemed to think Simon should be overjoyed to be sharing a room with the Octavio Juárez.
“You’re being a real asshole right now. I said we could come up here and make out. I’m not…” her voice trailed off to a whisper, “having sex in front of your roommate.”
“He’s a wuss, and he’s uno nadie. He don’t matter, chica. Only you matter…” he said with a sigh. “I want you. I need you. Now shut up or he’s gonna wake-“
“Don’t you tell me to shut up! I told you about that, I hate that! You fucking asshole, Octavio! I knew this was going to happen. Didn’t I-?” She jumped to her feet.
“Oh, shut your stupid bitch mouth for a minute and let me talk!”
“What did you call me?!” Mandy put her hands on her hips, exchanged dark-eyed stares in the unlit dorm room with Octavio, whose jockstrapped body rippled and flexed like he was using all his muscles just to stand there. Her tits nearly overflowed from her bra, and she carried her blouse in hand. She put the blouse on and clumsily buttoned it as she strode to the door, then stood in the threshold and screamed at Octavio. “You are a real prick, Octavio, you know that? You’re a worthless piece of shit!” Then she slammed the door shut.
Simon sat up, as there was no point in pretending he slept through that. He looked at Octavio, who paced across the darkened dorm room. Light from the streetlamps outside and from the computers and charging cell phones kept the room illuminated enough to see his flat stomach and hairy chest, his nut-nose skin and his grizzled square jaw. Simon felt inadequate — he was small and skinny, and he seemed young in comparison even though he was actually three weeks older than Octavio. How did someone just barely eighteen look like he was pushing thirty? How did he have such muscle and body hair? Simon cursed his luck. Most of the guys in the drama department had a sixth floor dorm. Simon wished he was with them. He wasn’t a drama major — Dad would never allow that — but he hung out with theater people, and it sounded like they had such fun.
They didn’t have handsome machos like Octavio though. Simon licked his lips. He got to shower with Octavio sometimes, and he always did enjoy the camaraderie and the horseplay and the fat jiggling cock. He didn’t think Octavio felt reciprocally though — Simon enjoyed those things when Octavio did them, but Octavio wouldn’t enjoy them if Simon did them, which he didn’t. So to Octavio, those showers were probably boring and dumb, and he probably preferred to shower with his fellow soccer stars.
“Sorry ’bout that!” he muttered, his tone still angry as though this was Simon’s fault. He kept pacing.
“Oh, no worries,” Simon said. “It’s okay. I, uh… I’m sorry-“
But he wasn’t listening. He interrupted Simon with an expressive flourish of his hands. “That fucking bitch promised me she’d put out tonight!”
“Well, she might have-“
“I ain’t bein’ a prick, she was teasing me about it all night! All night, she was sayin’, you just wait till we get back to your dorm!”
“Yeah, Octavio-“
“And now she fuckin’ blueballs me! That goddamn perra! ¡Es la perra más grande del mundo!” he said. He put his hands on his hips and glared at Simon. “Why are you always lookin’ at me in my jockstrap, huh?” His pubic hair peeked out from the edge of the overstuffed jockstrap. It looked like his balls were about to fall out of the pouch.
Simon blushed. He didn’t answer. He just bit his lip. He hadn’t realized how obvious he’d been. But even now, he had trouble looking away from the overstuffed bulge of Octavio’s crotch.
Octavio came closer to the bunk beds. Simon was on the upper bunk, and Octavio was a little too short to look him right in the eye. He sneered at Simon.
“You can swallow my nut, Simon, but if you ever tell anyone, I will kick your ass!” he said. “¡Te voy a arrancar la polla!”
“She was right, you are a jerk!”
But Octavio didn’t register the words right away. He dropped his jockstrap, revealing a half-hard dick angrily throbbing, the veins in its shaft visibly pulsating even in the dim light of the dorm room. He was obviously very horny, Simon thought, which made Simon horny as well. He would greatly enjoy stroking, tasting and rubbing every inch of that awe-striking rod of man-meat.
“You are to say no? You do not want to do chack me off?”
“No! Well… I don’t have to. You shouldn’t take people for granted-“
“But you want to?”
Simon clamped his mouth shut. Saying no wouldn’t sound believable, he thought, so he simply said nothing.
Octavio sighed and flared his nostrils. He paced again, gave his dick a touch, then let go and glared at Simon. Then through gritted teeth, he said, “Will you please get me off? I know you want to…” His voice trailed off like he had wanted to add another insult but didn’t. He clucked his tongue against his teeth.
Simon slid off the edge of the bed, dropping to the floor, and Octavio scoffed like he was annoyed it had taken this long. Heart pounding, Simon moved one hand to grab Octavio’s dick, but Octavio gently pushed him down to his knees.
“C’mon… man… Put your mouf on it…” he said, again struggling to avoid insulting Simon. Simon was on his knees now, so close to Octavio he could smell the funk of his crotch and the floral bouquet of his girlfriend’s perfume, which clung to his skin. In the darkness, Simon could barely make out the silhouette of his cock, but the small portion he saw through the dimness was half-hard, throbbing and veiny, and the sight of it made Simon’s mouth water. Overhead, Octavio’s baritone boomed. “You’re my little pasivo now. You want it, I know it. You are having been looked at it many times. In the shower. You want it. You want me.”
He pushed his dick into Simon’s mouth. It tasted spicy and fresh, and a little like clean cotton from his jockstrap. The flavor reminded Simon of Latin food, the grass of the soccer pitch and the musty sweat scent that Simon caught a whiff of each time Octavio came back from practice exhausted. There was a certain sunniness to his flesh, like Simon could taste all the hours he had spent shirtlessly practicing in the Uruguayan sun.
His throat loosened as Octavio pushed his cock inexorably, but not violently, down. He grunted and moaned in half-articulated Spanish as he went, and his balls slapped against Simon’s chin. Simon’s hands fluttered at first, unsure if Octavio would allow him to touch his body.
He groaned as he fed his dick down Simon’s throat. He held onto Simon by the ear, grinding his dick as he pushed it ever deeper. Simon gripped his plump, muscular asscheeks and held on tight. Octavio’s ass was shockingly hairy for such a young man, the hairs were fine and soft, and his cheeks were firm yet juicy, jiggling beneath Simon’s fingertips.
There was a knock at the door. Simon gasped as Octavio pulled out. Octavio roared in frustration, then he seemed to consider it could be Mandy back again. He ran to the door and looked through the peephole.
“Octavio? Simon? Are you guys alright in there?”
It was Auden, the RA. He was an annoying Young-Republican taste of paste, a thick-thighed bespectacled business major who claimed to tolerate no tomfoolery but actually had such little authority he had no ability to prevent it. Nobody in the dorm liked him. He was mainly concerned with demonstrating his respect for diversity, enforcing rules was a second-order priority.
“Yeah, we’re fine,” Octavio said through the shut door.
“Everything’s cool, Auden,” Simon said, his voice weak because he was desperate to get back on Octavio’s cock.
“It’s just… There was a lot of shouting just now. Are you sure everything’s okay? I can set up a conflict circle for tomorrow.” His voice was wavery like a weak string. “We should talk through-“
“Yes, it is okay now! We just have had a little disagreement,” Octavio said through flared nostrils. His dick pulsated in the darkness as it demanded more attention. Octavio opened the door all the way, boldly showing off his huge Hispanic prick, which was hard and dripping with precum and spit.
That made Simon suck in his breath. American men didn’t just flash their dicks in well-lit public areas like, apparently, Uruguayan men did.
The hallway outside the dorm room was quiet and dark aside from the emergency lighting that illuminated Auden. His portly body blocked the door way. “Uh… Oh…” Auden blushed. His fat cheeks jiggled, even when he wasn’t stumbling over any words. He stood there in the doorway, staring at Octavio’s cock. He was as mesmerized by it as Simon was, it seemed. Auden stumbled over his words. “Is… uh… your girlfriend still here?”
“I ain’t gotta tell you shit, esé,” Octavio said.
Auden backed up a few steps. “Okay, okay. I have great respect for the, uh… Uruguayan, uh… traditions, and uh… So, that’s — I’ll get that conflict circle set up-“
“No!” Simon cried out from the dorm room. He hadn’t wanted to get involved in this conversation. But Octavio seemed like he wasn’t going to argue about the conflict circle — Octavio had a coach and practice to use as an excuse, Simon had nothing and would have to talk to Auden about the conflict circle if he didn’t nip that it in the bud right now. “There’s no conflict, Auden. It’s fine. We don’t need a conflict circle!”
“Okay, it’s just, uh, reconciliation, and we need to solve-“
“I am closing the door now. It is a Uruguayan tradition,” said Octavio. He slammed the door in Auden’s face.
Outside the doorway, Auden’s voice could still be heard. “Uh, yeah, okay then… Just keep it down, Octavio.” He paused. “And Simon.”
Octavio’s hardon had almost diminished. But he muttered to himself, stroking it back to erection as he returned to Simon and slapped him over the face with his cock. Simon opened his mouth, and Octavio pushed his dick back down Simon’s throat, still muttering in Spanish about Auden. His dick was now as hard as it had been before the interruption, and he slammed it right down Simon’s throat.
“Swallow it, pasivo, yeah…” Octavio said, and he seemed to be going out of his way to be even louder just to prove he could, to prove that Auden meant nothing to him. He even situated himself towards the doorway as though Auden would be aware that Octavio’s anger was aimed at him.
Soon precum dripped down Simon’s throat again. It was salty and sweet, and it made Simon moaned with desire around the cockmeat in his throat. Octavio’s thick fingers rubbed Simon’s face and neck as he worked his dick all the way down Simon’s spasming gullet.
Then, without warning, Octavio pulled out. He pushed Simon onto his belly on the bed, and rammed his pinkie finger into his ass. He screwed up his nose as though he didn’t want to do it, even as he continued fingering Simon right in the ass. Pressure, pain, bliss and discomfort all hit Simon at the same time.
“Oh, hell… Octavio…” Simon’s voice broke. He threw his head back and moaned. He was on Octavio’s bed now, and he smelled both Mandy’s perfume and Octavio’s manly funk, his sweat, his socks and feet, the pillow he slept on every night, his unwashed sheets. Mandy’s perfume faded to the back of Simon’s mind.
All that mattered right now was Octavio’s youthful aroma and that fat cock, which Simon reached for even as Octavio moved both him and Simon into position. Into position for what? Simon didn’t know, but he was eager to find out.
“I want to stick it in you, americano,” he said breathlessly as he mounted Simon from behind. He didn’t put his dick in yet, just slid it hotly between Simon’s cheeks, and it pulsated there on Simon’s asscrack, as though it was massaging his sensitive hole. It sent waves of sensation through Simon’s body. He spoke right into Simon’s ear. “C’mon, you be my pasivo?”
“What does that mean?” Simon asked, his voice wavering and soft like Mandy’s had been (before she got salty).
“It means I get to stick my dick in ya culo when my girl won’t put out. I’ll be real gentle, promise…” he whispered, like he was embarrassed about it. “You will want it.”
“Oh, well… I guess, I…” Simon said. His heart pounded.
He had no sooner closed his mouth when Octavio pushed his dick in. A tight pressure erupted in Simon’s ass, and he clenched. Octavio had a tube of lube though, and he squeezed some out. Was Octavio planning on talking his girl into accepting anal sex tonight? That seemed hard to believe, but he was just cocky enough to try it.
Or maybe his dick was so big he needed lube for vaginal sex. Simon was a virgin and had no idea if that was normal or not.
Pangs of pleasure erupted in Simon’s sensitive ass, and he gripped the bunk bed tightly. Simon bit his lip to suppress a moan, not wanting Auden to interfere again, even as exquisite feelings ricocheted around in Simon’s body. It felt so good Simon’s whole body tensed and wrenched, and he slammed his head on the pillow underneath.
As Octavio worked his dick in deeper and deeper he moaned into Simon’s ear. He even kissed him on the cheek, then pulled away as though he hadn’t realized what he was doing. As he kept going, however, drilling his hard cock in deeper and deeper, his awkward kissing moved from Simon’s cheek to his lips. He even plunged his tongue into Simon’s mouth.
“I am a machote, you know what that means?” Octavio said when he pulled away from Simon’s lips. He wrapped his arms around Simon’s body as though holding him in place. He growled. “You want me to slam you like I should? An hombre should make his pasivo hurt, y’know. Mi papi always say a pasivo should be crying, that way he knows he is no real man.”
“Yes, oh god yes, Octavio,” Simon said, gasping for air as he was squeezed by Octavio’s muscles. Octavio’s dick, perfectly still, throbbed in Simon’s ass. He didn’t understand and wasn’t listening to Octavio’s words.
“Now take it, puta,” he said. He drove his dick in and out so hard and so quick that Simon gasped, not even able to concentrate enough to scream.
Then Octavio rolled him and Simon over onto their sides. He kept Simon’s chest in a tight hold, and he wrapped his feet around Simon’s ankles to hold him in position. Simon was wedged between Octavio’s lithe soccer-toned chest and the dorm room wall. He wondered if their neighbors would be able to hear. It seemed hard to believe there were two people sleeping maybe five feet from this spot and they didn’t know what incredible things were happening here.
He rammed his dick in and out, pushing the entire length of it, then pulling it almost all the way out, so just the tip remained, just enough to keep Simon’s attention focused on the pressure and pleasure in his ass. He moaned and bit his lip to avoid being too loud.
“Mi papi also teach me another rule,” he said, his voice suddenly low and soft. He kissed Simon on the cheek. “He say it should hurt, but it should also feel good. An hombre should give a reacharound.” His accent was growing thicker now, the more passionate he had become. “If he did his submission like a good pasivo should…”
His hand crept gingerly around Simon’s body, then wrapped around his cockshaft. Octavio moaned as though it was disgusting to him, but he gave it a few strokes all the same. That made a potent tenderness erupt in Simon’s cock, which spewed precum like water from a hose.
Soon Octavio had a good rhythm going. He used one arm to hold Simon into position, while his other hand jacked Simon off and his dick pounded in and out of Simon’s ass. He snorted like a bull as he humped, and Simon was totally immobilized, melting into Octavio’s powerful muscles, which squeezed and rippled and rubbed against the smoothness of Simon’s back.
“I’m going to fill you up. Don’t spill, that’s disrespectful to an hombre,” Octavio said. He sniffled as he drenched kisses on Simon’s back. “Okay, gringo? You promise you will not spill?”
“I promise…” Simon said, groaning as his own orgasm approached.
Octavio hit his climax first. He paused with his dick balls-deep in Simon’s ass, then gasped. Hot cum spread within Simon, who moaned loudly as it spread to every corner of his insides.
As he nutted within Simon, Octavio stopped stroking him off. Pleasure pounded through Simon’s veins. Then he squirmed, desperate to get himself off. His movement made Octavio’s dick twitch, and Octavio’s whole body writhed atop Simon.
And then Octavio resumed stroking. His limpening dick remained in Simon’s ass, even as his muscles all tightened and he groaned loudly.
It was only a minute or two later that Simon’s own orgasm overwhelmed him. He bit the pillow to avoid screaming, then rolled his head back and buried his face in Octavio’s hairy armpits. He grunted and groaned into Octavio’s body as cum sprayed over his chest and belly.
He didn’t know how long he lay there in Octavio’s arms. He would have gladly slept in exactly that position, but after what felt like forever, Octavio moved. He sopped up all the cum that had coated Octavio’s hand and Simon’s chest. Octavio gathered all of it up in one hand, his snorting disgust making it sound like he was being forced to do so, even though Simon hadn’t even asked him to.
Then Octavio held up his cum-dripping hand. He showed it to Simon, then very slowly pushed each finger into Simon’s mouth.
“Yeah, eat that nut, slut… You gettin’ nasty…”
Simon had always loved the taste of cum, but he’d only ever tasted his own. He also enjoyed sucking on Octavio’s fingers, which tasted of leather and grass, like what he imagined sucking on a soccer ball was like. Octavio moaned too, as though Simon’s sucking on his fingers caused him intense pleasure.
Then he finally pulled his limp cock out. He kissed Simon on the lips again and wrinkled his nose at the salty taste of cum. That didn’t stop him from pushing his tongue into Simon’s mouth and licking up all the semen that stuck to the inside of his mouth.
“Are we gonna do this again?” Simon asked.
He grunted in a negative way but paused before answering. “Probably,” he said. “But only at night. Don’t try to touch me during the day, and don’t tell no one about this. I’ll kick your fucking ass to pieces, puta.”
“Okay,” Simon said. He crawled out of the bed but Octavio stopped him. He dragged him back to where he was, ensconced in Octavio’s muscular limbs.
“Don’t go,” he said. “I wanna sleep with someone.”
Simon blushed, shocked that Octavio would do this. His heart pounded, and he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to sleep. He wanted to lay here and lick those caramel biceps all night, but he knew Octavio would kick him out if he squirmed. So he lay still as Octavio drifted off to sleep.
“You better get out when the sun comes up, pasivo,” was the last thing Octavio said. “I don’t wanna see you in my bed in the light.”
“Okay,” Simon said. “Mi hombre. I’ll get up early.” He cuddled up closer to Octavio’s muscular chest, which exuded solidity and warmth. When he was sure Octavio was asleep, Simon arranged their bodies so that Octavio’s hot dick throbbed in Simon’s sscrack and his powerful arms wrapped around Simon’s body. In that position, Simon drifted into the most comfortable sleep of his life.

The Groomsmen

Avery meets a trio of hunky groomsmen at a Jewish wedding, and when he offers to pay for their party at a strip club, they agree to let him take a taste of their alpha male meat! Can this wedding crasher service all three groomsmen?

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

When Avery first crashed the wedding at Temple Mann Asaf, he had no intention of doing anything more than eating some free shrimp and getting drunk off an open bar. But it turned out to be a dry wedding — apparently the bride had a nasty history of alcoholism — and there weren’t even any shrimp because this was a Jewish wedding. The disappointments just kept on coming.
The groom was a college frat bro-turned-car salesman with a square jaw like a Roman nobleman, dark hair and a body that could barely be contained by his tuxedo. Avery was a keen appreciator of the male form, and Samuel Feinman had a fantastic one. So did the groomsmen. Avery enjoyed a man who could rock a tux and yarmulke.
Nobody had to tell Avery that the groomsmen were the groom’s frat brothers and probably his teammates too, most likely teammates in some silly frat bro sport like quidditch or ultimate frisbee. They looked and acted like frat boys. They laughed loudly and carried on throughout the reception, they ate like pigs, argued incessantly and called each other “bro” over and over. They were disgusting, rude and exuded masculinity, and Avery couldn’t look away.
Avery still wasn’t sure what to do or how to get close to them without revealing that he was a wedding crasher. But he lightbulbed up when he went to the bathroom — the main men’s room was full, but he found a different one at the end of the back hall — and saw one of the groomsmen there, having just finished up his piss.
“Hey,” Avery said. “You’re the best man, right?”
“Yeah, bro,” he said. He nodded back at Avery. “I’m Charlie Chodorow. Chuckles to my friends.”
“Well, Chuckles… Are you taking the guys out to a strip club later?”
“What?”
“Is that not a tradition around here? Where I’m from, the best man has to take the groomsmen to a strip club after the reception. The groom goes on the honeymoon, and the groomsmen get blowjobs from cokeheads, or whatever,” Avery said with a casual grin.
“Oh, no, Jews don’t do that. We’re not a cool enough religion to get blowjobs from strippers.”
“You sure? It’s a baller move.”
“Bro, I don’t got enough money for that. I could barely afford to go to the strip club by myself,” he said. He chuckled and blushed a little. “I’m not the rich kind of Jew. I’m a poor mofo, bro.”
“I could pay.”
“What? You’d pay? Who are you anyway?”
“My name is Avery. I’m a friend of Samuel’s from way back. I’d want something in return, of course…” Avery said. “I’d like to jack off you and your groomsmen buddies. What do you think? I’ll give you five hundred dollars.”
“Hell yeah.” He paused like he hadn’t meant to agree so readily. “I mean… Whatever, maybe. Like six hundred dollars-“
“Nope, five hundred.”
“Man! Come on, I…”
“You agreed to five hundred, sorry. Learn to negotiate,” Avery said. “You really are bad at being Jewish.” He dropped to his knees and massaged Chuckles’s cock through his slacks.
Chuckles blushed hard and rolled his eyes. “I know,” he said. His cheeks turned pinkish like a baby’s butt.
“You ever let a man jack you off before?”
He sighed. “Not sober. Not deliberately. My bros tricked me once…” He winced as Avery unzipped his slacks and pulled his long, floppy dick out through the fly. Chuckles blushed intensely. “Damn, bro, you are like a vacuum cleaner for cock.” His voice broke as his meat disappeared into Avery’s mouth.
Almost immediately it stiffened and stuck up straight in Avery’s mouth. He gurgled and moaned, savoring the clean flavor and salty taste of that rock-hard slab of meat. A little spit dripped off Avery’s lips and into the fabric of Chuckles’s slacks.
“Hey. Uh-huh.” Chuckles called one of the other groomsmen. “Hey, you two wanna go to the strip club? I dunno, I guess the Pink Fold. Ew, no way, Lipsweet is nasty! That chick had a c-section scar, bro! And the stripper with the hairy legs!” He laughed so hard his cock spasmed in Avery’s mouth. Chuckles ran his fingers through his hair. “So, uh… I can’t afford it and I know you can’t either. But there’s this guy… Uh… You remember Raython? Yeah. You remember how he made money?” Chuckles groaned and chuckled. “No, not that way. I mean the way that’s legal — or well, less illegal than that. Yeah, that’s it. Shut up, bro. It isn’t like that.”
Avery moved down to Chuckles’s balls. He pulled that entire sac out of Chuckles’s slacks and slurped all the sweat up. He let both balls fill up his mouth and he gurgled on them loudly, making Chuckles grunt, shake and blush as he tried to continue his conversation.
“Yeah. He slurpin’ on my balls right now, yo! I am not fuckin’ with you, bro. You wanna hear?” He put the phone down near his balls. Avery made some especially loud ball-slurping sounds. He heard a masculine voice laughing on the other end.
Chuckles laughed too. “See? Don’t tell me you don’t know what teabagging sounds like. What?” He looked at Avery. “Hey, does the Torah forbid this on Shavuot?”
Avery shrugged. “You’re the Jew.”
“We’ve already established I’m bad at being Jewish, you don’t need to rub it in. Nobody ever told me anything about abstaining from busting a nut on Shavuot.” He spoke back into his phone again. “Look, it’s not a big deal. He’s gonna jack us off, and he’ll pay five hundred bucks. We could have a good time at the Pink Fold for that. At the Pink Fold, five hundred dollars makes us kings. We could buy the damn club and make her shave her legs.” He paused. “Yeah, I volunteered your cock, and Hopper’s too. It’s too late, I already agreed on your behalf. If you back out now, the po-po’s gonna come and make you get you do it. Uh-huh. Okay.” Chuckles looked down at Avery. “Hey, we’re gonna tell Hopper he has to put it in your ass for the five hunnies, okay? You do that, right?”
“Yeah, that’s fine.”
Chuckles spoke into the phone again. “He said that’s fine. I know, hilarious, bro.” He smiled at Avery. “Just get out here, to the bathroom in the back hall.” He hung up the phone as a bolt of pleasure shot up his spine, making him moan again. He leaned against the wall.
“Hey, we’re gonna…” Chuckles began to speak but his voice trailed off as he lost track of his words. He looked down at his veiny cock throbbing in Avery’s mouth. He cleared his throat. “That tall groomsman is Hopper — not who I was just talking to, he’s Pud — Hopper is the one who’ll stick you in the ass. He, uh… He jumped over this hedge once, that’s where he got the name. Ah shit, fuck…” He closed his eyes and raised his arms to lean on the sink for support. His knees buckled and his tie shook, dangling in front of his barrel chest.
His phone rang. It was so surprising it made Chuckles’s dick twitch. He sighed and looked at the phone. It was Hopper, and he swore.
“What?” He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, Hopper. Too bad. You wanna go to the strip club right? You always wanna go — I don’t think “leftover money” is a thing, but fine, you can have it. I am getting lap dances though, asshole. Don’t even try — nope! No! No way, Hopper! You are not wasting five hundred dollars buying drinks for strippers, bro!” He paused and bristled. “Man, shut up, I can’t stay hard listenin’ to your voice. He swallows dick good, and he got a nice ass. You’ll like it.” He made a flapping “talking too much” motion with his hand.
Avery’s hands roamed up Chuckles’s body. He loved men in suits, and he loved feeling Chuckles’s muscles beneath the suit fabric. His muscles were tense and tight, both because he was nervous about getting jacked off by a man and because he was excited about busting a nut.
“He’s hotter than that Asian chick. Don’t even give me that, bro, you licked her asshole and she looked like Jackie Chan, but less hot. You said it tasted like those baby ears of corn! Don’t even say that, bro, don’t even- Uh-huh.” Chuckles laughed so hard his face turned red. “C’mon, bro, you’ll smash anything in the ass. That’s why I don’t let you in a room alone with my dog.” He laughed so hard his face turned red. His whole body buckled. He gasped, the intensity of his laughter and the anxiety of his conversation making it hard for him to concentrate on remaining upright and holding the phone.
There was a knock on the bathroom door. Hey, bro! Chuckles!
Chuckles hurriedly got off the phone with Hopper and opened the door a crack. He took great pains to sidle over there to the door slowly so that Avery didn’t have to stop working on his cock. Spit ran down the shaft as Avery slurped up the precum sliding out.
“Hey, Pud,” Chuckles said.
The third groomsman was Asher Idelson, or “Pud” to his Zeta Tau Sigma friends. He tried to come into the bathroom, but Chuckles held the door open just a crack. Chuckles’s muscles strained beneath his suit.
“Wait up, out there,” Chuckles said, breathless, distracted as his veins throbbed in Avery’s mouth. He grunted. “I’m gonna nut in a minute.”
“So we can’t see it? I wanna see this dude-“
“Why? He’s just a dude. There’s nothing to look at.”
“I wanna see the money. He could cheat us.”
“You’re too stupid to count it anyway, what do you know?” Chuckles said with a grin. His cock throbbed mightily, and precum flowed down Avery’s throat. Avery was surprised that Chuckles hadn’t cum yet — he had felt like he was on the verge right before the knock on the door. The distraction, Avery thought, seemed to inhibit him. That was fine with Avery, who would have gladly jacked him off all night long.
“Bro, what’s up? Why don’t you want me in there?”
“We’re taking turns,” Chuckles said.
“What? I’m not gonna push in before you’re done, bro, just lemme in.”
“Why you wanna watch me so bad? Huh? You tryin’ to sneak a peek at my cock, bro?” Chuckles’s voice seemed plaintive, almost like he was about to cry. It was enough to make Avery look up at him.
But it wasn’t that — it was an orgasm. Chuckles nutted as he continued to argue with Pud, who pushed on the door and grabbed for Chuckles’s muscled shoulder through the doorway. Chuckles’s whole body shook and he grunted.
“Ew, bro! Are you blowin’ your wad right now?! Holy shit, bro!” Pud screamed on the other side of the door. His hands were on Chuckles’s shoulder, so Pud must have been able to sense the orgasm in the rippling of Chuckles’s muscles. “He’s all down your zakhrut, dude.”
Chuckles’s face turned bright red — that was normal for him when he orgasmed, not a function of his embarrassment — and he bucked. He grabbed Avery’s head and rammed his dick all the way down Avery’s throat.
He groaned as he sprayed his massive wad down Avery’s gullet. It was hot and thick and creamy, and it tasted so salty it made Avery moan. He guzzled down every drop, even as he choked and sputtered on Chuckles’s massive cock.
“Aw, fuck, bro…”
With both of Chuckles’s hands on Avery’s head, he was no longer keeping the door shut. Pud came charging in — he pushed his way through as though he thought he’d have to shove Chuckles out of the way. He nearly fell over when there was no barrier.
Chuckles sighed. “Damn…”
“Oh shit, bro! You seriously just nutted! Holy shit, bro!” Pud said. He was tall and short-haired, with an angular nose and a lean, lanky body. He was built like a basketball player, Avery thought, who was getting excited already even before he had finished swallowing Chuckles’s nut.
It was clear Chuckles didn’t want to be seen by his buddy, but he hid his discomfort well now that he didn’t have a choice. He cleared his throat. He pulled his cock out and flopped it over Avery’s face.
“Damn, so I gotta do this too?” Pud asked, concealing his eyes so he didn’t have to see his bro’s cock.
Chuckles chuckled. “Yep. He’s paying for the strip club.”
Pud was quiet for a long time. “We always told Raython that it was-“
“Shut up, bro.”
“I’m just sayin’, you were the worst about that. You called Raython a rentboy cuz that dude was paying his tuition-“
“There’s a big difference in letting a dude pay for one nut and letting one pay your entire tuition,” Chuckles said.
Pud was quiet for a long time. “Not really…” Then he burst into a torrent of ticklish laughter as Avery kissed his cock through the fabric of his black slacks. When he didn’t complain, Avery pulled his dick out and jacked on the tip.
It was just as big as Chuckles’s, maybe bigger — skinny guys usually had big dicks, so Avery wasn’t surprised. Pud grabbed ahold of Avery’s head and guided it up and down on his dick, which twitched and firmed up in Avery’s mouth.
“Okay, lemme outta here…” Chuckles muttered.
Pud slammed the door shut before Chuckles could leave. They both made eye contact and laughed. Chuckles tried to pull Pud away, but Pud fought back.
“Bro, c’mon on!”
“Stay here, bro!”
“Get outta the way!”
“Don’t you wanna watch?”
“No, man! Let go, bro!” Chuckles had been red-faced from his orgasm, but as a fight very nearly broke out yet again, he turned even redder. He clawed at Pud’s suited shoulders, but Pud stood in front of the door, blocking his way. Pud leered as Chuckles scrambled to get out of the bathroom.
His dick throbbed in Avery’s mouth. It was hard and throbbing, longer than Chuckles’s, though not quite as thick. That was fine with Avery, since it made it easier for him to swallow. He giggled as he took in every inch.
“Get off me!”
“Man, quit it!”
They probably would have started actually fighting by now except that Avery was in the way. Chuckles couldn’t get a good punch in — or rather, he might have been able to, but he had an instinctual need to avoid getting anywhere near his Zeta Tau Sigma brother’s cock, so he had to stretch to reach Pud or the door at all. Pud meanwhile just pushed and shoved Chuckles away, too distracted by his dick to do anything else.
“Hey, boys, quit fighting,” Avery said when the jostling got too distracting. “Shut up. I’ll give you both another hundred dollars if you kiss right now.”
“No way!”
“Nope!”
But Avery didn’t care. He assumed they’d say no anyway, he just wanted to distract them from the fight. Pud resumed grabbing ahold of Avery’s head and plowing down his throat.
“You had to think about it, bro,” Pud said.
“No I didn’t, I was just waiting for you to say no first. I thought you were gonna say yes.”
“No way! I-” Pud stopped talking then because his cock twitched in Avery’s throat. He blushed and moaned. His voice broke.
“Ah shit, you’re nutting. You’re nutting.”
“Shut up, bro, I can’t do it if you’re talking. Shut up-“
“I’m taking both hundred bucks!” Chuckles blurted out. Then he pecked Pud right on the lips, laughing so hard his face turned red as Pud sputtered and spat.
It felt like an almost violent, painful orgasm, since it was interrupted by Chuckles’s kiss — which was a pitiful kiss: dry, chaste and lasting about an eighth of a second — and Pud roared in a combination of anger, disgust, shock and arousal. The sounds coming out of both groomsmen filled the air and echoed in the tiny bathroom. Cum sprayed down Avery’s throat, the taste making him moan and groan, begging for more. He choked too, since Pud kept his cock all the way into Avery’s gullet, moaning and red-faced as he spurted his wad.
Finally he was done. He pulled out and watched his spit-dripping cock plop out of Avery’s mouth, with a wide-eyed, horrified stare like he was watching an alien monster give birth. He covered his eyes when it was over.
“Shut up, bro,” Pud said. He blushed, while Chuckles laughed so hard he was doubled over. Pud smirked. Cum dripped over Avery’s face and down his chin. “You kissed a dude, bro. That was so nasty.”
“Boys, boys, boys, relax,” Avery said. He licked off the cum that had collected on his face. “What happened to that third groomsman? Hopper?”
“I’ll call him,” Chuckles said. He pulled out his phone and dialed. “Hey. Where are you? In the back hall, remember? What the fuck-? No, that was not a joke, man. You gotta do it. You shoulda seen it, Pud was making out with a man. It was the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen.”
“He did it!” Pud shouted. “Don’t listen to him, Hopper! It was him!”
“Shut up. No, no that wasn’t nothing. Come on, bro. You gotta come stick it in this dude. Okay. Yeah. See ya.” He hung up. “He said he’d do it.”
“What? Just like that? He was saying hell no a minute ago.”
“He found out Sarah didn’t come to the wedding.”
Pud threw his hands in the air. “That boy is retarded for that girl. She doesn’t like him. She’ll never like him.”
“I know.”
“Did he really think she was gonna throw herself at him because he put on a suit?”
“Which he looks like an idiot in,” Chuckles said. “He sounded pissed.” He looked down at Avery. “Don’t worry ’bout Hopper, okay? He won’t hurt you. He looks ugly as shit, especially when he’s angry, but he won’t hurt you.”
Avery wrinkled his eyebrows. He didn’t think Hopper looked ugly, though he wasn’t surprised to hear someone else say that. Hopper was short and squat, with a rather flat face. He was built like a prison rapist, Avery had thought during the ceremony, and he looked like he never wore a suit. His face had some acne-scarring, which was unfortunate.
All told, he was not ugly. A lot of women would say he was, or that he was at least off-putting and scary. But Avery didn’t mind a man with a little roughness around the edges, as long as he could still rock a suit. Hopper looked like he was one of those guys who went straight from acne-ridden-teenager to hulking-brutish-man without a charming-handsome-college-boy phase.
Hopper virtually ripped the door off its hinges when he stormed in. He scowled and glowered at his friends in the ill-fitting suit — he was the only one of the three who appeared to not know how to wear a suit. Hopper did not look at Avery at all, as though he hadn’t even noticed him.
“Nobody told me Gerald was gonna be here,” Hopper said with a growl. “I was about to lay that fucker out.”
The other two both sighed. “Relax, Hopper.”
“Yeah, chill out, he’s different now. He’s just as annoying, but in a different way, and he’s less punchable.”
“Just cornhole this dude and we can go to the strip club.”
“I’m getting laid,” Hopper said with a growl. “If we go to the strip club, I am getting some pussy.”
“Bro, that’ll take the entire five hundred dollars-“
“Seven hundred,” Avery said. He dove his face into Hopper’s crotch and inhaled deeply of his musky scent. He smelled unclean. He unzipped his slacks and pulled his dick out. Hopper remained so angry he barely seemed to notice — though he did stop pacing, so he must have been aware.
“Yeah, seven hundred.”
“What? I thought it was five,” Hopper said, absent-minded now that he saw his cock disappearing into Avery’s throat.
“He paid us a hundred bucks each to kiss,” Chuckles said.
“I ain’t kiss him,” Pud added. “Chuckles kissed me. It was gross.”
“I didn’t even use tongue- Damn, Hopper,” Chuckles said. Hopper’s dick was hard already, and as soon as it was, he reached over to Avery’s ass to smack it. He bared Avery’s cheeks and got ready to plow into him. Chuckles chuckled nervously. “You are quick, Hopper. You goin’ straight for the ass, huh?”
“That’s what I’m getting paid for, right?” Hopper said with a growl. “Hold on, so you’re paying two hundred dollars for a kiss?”
“No!” Avery cried out. His voice broke as Hopper’s dick rammed unceremoniously into him — that was another reason he must have trouble with the women, Avery thought, he was crude and graceless like a caveman. He had gone straight to anal without even making eye contact with Avery. Avery loved it, but women didn’t. Avery submitted to Hopper’s powerful pounding and forced himself to concentrate to say anything at all. “Uh… That was just a one-time thing. I’m not paying again for a dry little peck on the lips.”
As he slid his cock into Avery’s ass, Hopper snorted. He grabbed Chuckles by the chin and planted his lips right on Chuckles’s. This time, he kissed hard, almost violently, and he slammed his tongue into Chuckles’s mouth. It was not exactly a passionate kiss, but it was much more intense than the earlier one. Pud clapped and laughed.
Hopper pulled away. He smacked one of Avery’s asscheeks. “Pay up, weirdo.”
“Okay, fine,” Avery said breathlessly, his ass stretching to accommodate Hopper’s massive meat. “That was hot.”
Chuckles coughed and blushed, wiping Hopper’s spit off his face. He took a few steps away to be sure he wasn’t within Hopper’s range if he did the same thing again. Chuckles leaned against the wall as though too shocked to support himself. His muscles rippled beneath his suit.
Hopper snorted and sniffled like a rampaging bull as it trampled a bullfighter. The room filled with the smell of his sweat, which made Avery’s dick throb in his fingers. Hopper removed his suit jacket and tossed it on the grimy bathroom floor. That revealed his sweat-soaked armpits, which in turn made Chuckles and Pud laugh.
“Damn, Hopper, calm down.”
“You’re sweatin’ like a fat girl, bro,” Pud said.
“You promised you’d use deodorant from now on-“
“I don’t live with you anymore.”
“That was a long-term agreement. It was not specific to being roommates,” Pud said with a groan.
“You two set this up, huh? I’m just doin’ what you said. I am fucking that blonde chick tonight, and you two are paying for it,” Hopper said with a snarl. He smacked Avery’s ass. “This is how you wanted to pay for it, don’t get pissy at me about it.”
Pud and Chuckles exchanged nervous glances. But they just shrugged and agreed. Avery had a feeling that, when they got to the strip club, they would refuse to pay for Hopper’s prostitute. Avery also felt sorry for Hopper, who would surely be unable to land a stripper (or most any woman) without paying for her.
But Avery didn’t mind Hopper being crude and mean to him. He loved it. He enjoyed the feeling of Hopper slamming into his asscheeks, his brutish cock tearing Avery up inside. Every time his prostate twitched, Avery moaned and squirmed on the floor.
Finally he shot his own load onto the ground. None of the groomsmen seemed to notice. Chuckles and Pud watched with baited breath — Avery got the impression that they both wanted to leave but felt an obligation to stay and protect Avery in case Hopper got violent — and shared knowing glances. Avery moaned so loud it made the hair on the back of his neck stand up and made Chuckles giggle like a blushing schoolboy.
At last Hopper was done. He grabbed Avery by the throat, not squeezing him but lifting his head up forcefully. A massive wad of cum sprayed into Avery’s ass, coating his insides and making him moan blissfully. He had never felt anything quite so potent, as though he could taste every inch of Hopper’s macho muscles and feel every inch of his body stimulating Avery’s prostate.
A big, thick wad sloshed around inside Avery, getting bigger with every thrust of Hopper’s cock. He slammed his dick in over and over and made a loud, meaty slapping sound each time his balls slapped against Avery’s ass.
“Damn…”
Pud laughed, his face turned red. “That was the most disgusting thing I have ever seen. I’m gonna have nightmares.”
“Yeah, that was terrible,” Chuckles said. “I thought it was bad watching your nasty-ass fuck a fat chick.”
Hopper growled and mumbled. “I don’t fuck fat chicks.”
The other two laughed knowingly, but they didn’t seem to want to anger Hopper by contradicting him. They just shrugged.
Hopper took a deep breath and shook his body like a dog drying off after a rainstorm. The movement reawakened the pain and the bliss in Avery’s ass, making him moan once again. That seemed to remind Hopper that he was touching a man. He pushed Avery away and jumped to his feet.
“Damn,” Hopper said, shaking his head. He groaned as he watched a final few drops of cum leak out of his cocktip.
Avery turned around, grabbed some toilet paper, and wiped Hopper’s dick off. He always loved servicing alpha males, and as far he was concerned, cleaning up his man when he was done was an essential part of the process. Hopper watched, wrinkling his nose like he would rather remain dirty.
“Alright, you feel better, Harold?” Chuckles asked, clasping Hopper on the shoulder.
“You best pay up,” Hopper said to Avery. His nostrils flared. “You owe nine hundred dollars.”
Avery nodded. He had a thousand dollars in his wallet. He had a feeling Hopper was going to take the entire wallet when he saw the money, so Avery took all ten hundred dollar bills out. “Here’s a grand. Have a good time at the strip club, boys.”
“Ah shit, okay!”
“A bonus! You must be good at that, Hopper.”
Hopped sniffled. “We can get that blonde stripper to go out with us-“
“Hopper, no.” They opened the door and walked out, rejoining the reception. They ignored Avery as though they forgot he existed. He was fine with that. He enjoyed watching their plump asses shake in the suit-pants.
“Yeah, we’re not making friends with a stripper, Hopper. You’re never going to get one to fall in love with you. They only like you when you have money. That’s what makes them strippers.”
“You ain’t see how she was looking at me last time, bro,” Hopper said. “She liked me.” That was the last of their words that Avery could hear, though he could tell from the tone of their conversation that Pud and Chuckles were increasingly annoyed with Hopper’s reluctance to believe them. For all his grizzled scruff, Hopper seemed delightfully naive, or maybe simply optimistic.
Avery stayed there in the bathroom, naked and basking in the afterglow of his orgasm. He couldn’t believe his luck. Of all the weddings to crash, he got the one featuring three alpha groomsmen in yarmulkes with a willingness to do whatever it took to make a few dollars.
Avery couldn’t wait to get some more cash out and continue his hunt for men in suits to jack off. He wondered if the groom had any more frat brothers at the wedding.

The Stripper

Lemond is a stripper who needs a break… and a few extra dollars! Avery is glad to help out in return for a swing on Lemon’s huge throbbing slab of mahogany meat!

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Avery had never been to a high-class bachelorette party. It was not at all what he expected. The bride-to-be was Daphne Jardine, a wealthy heiress to a chandelier fortune. Avery didn’t know her that well — she was just a friend of a friend whom he saw often at parties — but she had insisted he come. Avery only agreed because he hoped to see a stripper. Avery was a great admirer of the male form, and strippers often had incredible physiques.
When he arrived, however, at Daphne’s ancient mansion, Avery decided that wasn’t going to happen. This wasn’t that sort of party. People who owned mansions like this didn’t hire strippers. He didn’t realize Daphne was this rich.
A butler showed Avery to the party, which consisted of a half-dozen women drinking champagne. The decorations were present, everywhere, scattered expertly, chic and expensive, covering every part of the mansion, but they had a certain soulless quality — Avery could tell that some servant had put them up, not someone who actually wanted to attend the party. There were streamers and a golden goblet for the bride to drink out of, and the giftbag included a skin cream with actual diamond dust in it.
“Oh my god, Avery! I’m so glad you’re here!” Avery’s friend Mandy hugged him. She whispered in his ear, “Oh my god, Daphne has such a stick up her ass, it’s… like a whole tree.”
“Woo, we’re partying! Let’s bring out the cake!”
“Yeah! Oh my god, Daphne, do you know what your fiancé is doing tonight?”
Daphne sat, skeletal and grimly smiling — she was skinny and well-manicured, with brittle hair and a saccharine smile — and shaking her head. “I don’t know, he wouldn’t tell me what men do on their bachelor parties.”
“You know what they’re doing…” Avery said with a laugh.
Daphne shot him an angry look. “I told him no stripper, if that’s what you’re implying, Avery. We are remaining loyal to each other. He wouldn’t do that to me.” She shuddered.
“Okay, sorry….” Avery murmured. He rolled his eyes. The putative stripper was the only reason Avery came.
But now, it seemed, she was opposed to strippers. As a servant of some sort — some sort of “games maid”? Avery didn’t know — brought them out a game to play, Avery considered leaving. This felt more like a child’s birthday party thrown by the servants than a real bachelorette party.
The music playing, Avery realized, was a nocturne by Chopin. What kind of bachelorette party played classical music?
The game was essentially Duck, Duck, Goose, but with little penis-shaped cookies — it might have been fun with a bunch of silly girls, a male stripper and enough alcohol that they were all drunk before beginning the game. With just Daphne and some other haughty bitches, none of whom would drink enough to get tipsy much less drunk, the game was a somber, annoying diversion.
There was a knock on the front door — the cavernous main hallway had an echo, so the knock was audible even in the party. Everyone turned to look at Daphne, but she just said to wait. “Velma will answer the door. I believe this is all the guests, right? Are we missing someone? No one else was invited.” Daphne furrowed her brow.
Avery sat in grim silence. No one wanted to start the next round of this utterly idiotic game knowing that whoever the new partygoer was would interrupt them momentarily. Avery looked among the women here — who was missing? Most of these women showed up to parties together, that was how Avery knew them. Mandy was an associated hanger-on who used to work with Daphne at her feminist bookstore, and she was how Avery came to know Daphne and the others. Now Mandy’s eyes twinkled in Avery’s direction.
The door opened, and in walked a tall, broad-shouldered black man in a fine suit. He had dimples like LL Cool J and light brown skin, with a broad chest that barely fit in the suit. It was a plain navy blue suit with an impeccable alabaster tie. He walked with swagger and a thick jaw, and the bulge in his pants attracted Avery’s eye.
“Daphne Jardine?” he said. He had a clipboard in hand.
“Yes.”
“You’ve been served,” he said. He handed over a stack of documents to her.
Daphne’s face turned into a bitter scowl. “I’m being served! You asshole! It’s my bachelorette party! How dare you?!” She called out of the room. “Velma! How could you let this man in? He’s not from the party! Velma! I swear to Christ, I’ll have your son deported-!”
“Daphne, wait! Wait!” Mandy got up and went to her.
But Daphne was in a rage, screaming at Velma in the hallway. Velma quaked and backed away from her. “Don’t tell me to wait, what is this? Is it that jerkoff from the City Council? I told him I read the code, his patriarchy won’t bring me down,” she said to the black man who had served her with papers. His eyes were opened wide like he was shocked she was upset. Daphne wagged her finger at him. “Are you a real process server? I’d like to formally dispute that I was properly served-“
“Daphne, what are you being sued over?” Mandy asked with a big grin on her face. She pointed to the papers in Daphne’s hand.
Daphne sighed and shook her head. “The city council has a bee in its bonnet about my store. They’re claiming that a bookstore is a Class D commercial establishment, but the definitions provided in the zoning code make it clear that Class C is the more appropriate fit. That’s for retail stores that aren’t everyday shops like gas stations. The examples given in the city code include a CD store — the zoning guide was written in the 90s — which is pretty much the same thing as a bookstore, right? Why would it-?”
“Daphne, look at the papers,” Mandy said, exasperated.
Daphne nodded and glanced at them, but it was obvious she was too worked up to really process what she was reading. She looked at the black man. “You! What are you still doing here? This is a private function, and you’ve done what you were hired to do, you jackal! You court-sponsored… hound!” Her face was ruddy, veins popping against the skin of her neck.
“Hey, lady, relax,” the black man said with a sigh. He straightened his tie.
“Daphne! Read the goddamn papers!” Mandy said.
“Now? I have lawyers for that, Mandy,” Daphne said. She finally looked at the papers and read the words. “I’m being sued for… improper use of party-related materials and utter craving for mahogany manmeat. What does that mean? I don’t use mahogany, that’s endangered, I would never do that! This inaccurate accusation will not stand! I’m being persecuted!” It was apparent she was still worked up because she said manmeat like she didn’t recognize it. She looked up. “I will be contacting the National Organization for Women and-“
The black man looked at her. “That’s right, but don’t worry, I’m here to work on both of those charges with you! I am… the Mahogany Miracle!” He shrugged his suit jacket off, and Mandy squealed, followed by the other girls, at the sight of his incredible shoulders straining against the tight fabric of his button-down shirt.
Mandy pressed play on an app on her phone, and the sound of pulse-pounding hip hop filled the air. Avery hurried to turn off the Chopin, though no one could hear it anymore.
“Wooooooh!”
“Oh my god, that’s so crazy!”
“He’s a stripper!!!!”
Finally it began to feel like a real party. The Mahogany Miracle — who later said his real name was Lemond — took his tie off and wrapped it around the back of Daphne’s neck like a lasso, and he pulled her closer to him as he danced. He puckered up as though to kiss her. He had good instincts though, and when Daphne frowned a little, he let go — obviously she didn’t want to kiss him. She was still fuming about the City Council’s zoning regulations.
So he kissed Mandy instead. She was coming up behind him, pretending for the benefit of the other girls that she was going to grab his ass. Then he turned around, took her in his arms and plowed his tongue into her throat and they swooned together like the hero of some romance novel.
Mandy squealed and grabbed at Lemond’s back. His shoulder muscles barely fit in that shirt, which looked like it could pop right off.
“Woo-hoo!” Avery danced with some of the more demure women, hoping to get the party going. Most of these women were too high-class to have ever seen a stripper before, and Avery thought they’d be more comfortable with it if they started off dancing with him.
“Dance with him!”
“Avery! Avery! Avery!”
Avery hadn’t even realized that some of the women were chanting for him to get the next dance — Lemond the Mahogany Miracle was surrounded by Mandy and a few other relatively bold women, while Avery and the other prudes danced in the other side of the room. Now they all began chanting for Lemond to come to him.
At first it seemed Lemond would refuse, that he would say he didn’t dance for men. But then he shrugged, took one step and ripped his button-down shirt off, buttons flying across the room. One button landed in Daphne’s glass of champagne, and she squealed in both shock and delight.
“Oh god…” Avery murmured to himself. Lemond had an impeccable chest, with big mountainous pectorals and a six-pack more perfect than Avery had ever seen. He looked good in his slacks, a big bulge plainly visible in his crotch. His chest was smooth, unblemished, gleaming with a few beads of sweat that had collected there as he danced.
Avery blushed and pantomimed a fishing rod, as though he had lured Lemond, who grinned and played along — neither could speak because the music was too loud. Lemond shimmied over to him, and leaned back to outstretch his chest.
“Body shots!” Avery shouted, and got on his knees right in front of Lemond. He put his tongue out, touching the firm flesh of Lemond’s waist just above his pants, while Mandy poured a bottle of champagne onto Lemond’s chest, so that it ran between his pecs and poured directly into Avery’s mouth.
“Hell yeah!”
“Body shots! Oh my god!”
That helped loosen things up. Avery was glad for that; it felt more like a party now, even if Daphne herself seemed glum. The girls took turns taking body shots off his chest, until those slacks were soaked with champagne.
Then he ripped the pants off, revealing his trunk-like thighs, toned calves and the sausage-hugging banana hammock he wore over his cock and balls. Avery’s jaw dropped — he had never seen such a huge package before. The banana hammock briefs were much too small for him, just like the suit, and if he hadn’t shaved it, most of his pubic hair would be visible. As it was, his heavy cock and balls weighed down the tiny spandex material so much that the root of his shaft was visible.
Mandy took her body shot with her tongue out, running over the round bulge of his cock through those briefs. The girls all squealed and clapped.
It was shocking, Avery thought, how the presence of a handsome stranger changed these women’s willingness to do stuff — he was quite sure that most of them had said they didn’t suck dick at a party last year — they had said oral sex was “oppressive to women in developing nations”; they certainly didn’t lick some stranger’s cock.
And now here they were, kneeling while a man whom none of them knew dragged his dick over their faces.
He was really very handsome, Avery thought, Mandy had chosen well. He was dimpled and charming when the music stopped, with a lilting, smooth voice. He came across like the streetwise older brother on a Nickelodeon kids’ show.
Finally, he let Daphne take that banana hammock off. She gingerly squealed, giggling, blushing, halting several times as she stuck one finger under the fabric and pulled it down. His thirteen-inch cock popped out, limp but meaty, and it slapped at her wrist.
“Oh my god! It felt like a leg of lamb!” Daphne screamed so loud that the “games maid” came to make sure everything was alright. Daphne held her hand up as though they were going to worship any body part that had touched Lemond’s body.
At last, the bachelorette party continued apace, and Avery felt right. Lemond flopped his dick all over Avery’s face — most of the girls hadn’t quite taken it that far, but Avery made it clear he’d love to. He even stuck his tongue out, chasing Lemond’s shaft as it heavily slapped him all across the face.
“Hmmmm… I’m not s’posed to let you lick it,” Lemond said with a wink. “My agency has a rule against that.”
“I just stuck my tongue out,” Avery said. “I wasn’t trying to lick it, it’s not my fault your dick keeps moving around all over my tongue.” He blushed, running his tongue from the root to the tip before Lemond moved on.
By then, some of the girls had passed out, or were nearly there. Even Daphne was half-asleep. Most of these girls didn’t really drink very often. A few glances of champagne was enough to make them sleepy.
Soon enough, the party was over. It happened quickly once it got closer — every time somebody passed out or called for a rideshare, there was one fewer person actually partying, which made the others more and more tired. Even Daphne “retired to her bedroom” with a guilty look on her face that suggested she was going to fuck herself with a dildo until she could forget about Lemond.
The only people left were Avery, Mandy and Lemond, and with the music off, all they ended up doing was sitting around and talking. Mandy was drunk, but neither Lemond nor Avery had had anything to drink. Lemond rolled them up a blunt with the weed Mandy had brought.
Before he lit it though, Mandy begged off. She said she had a headache and thought the weed would just make her throw up. She told them to go ahead and smoke it though.
Lemond talked about his career as a rapper as he lit it and passed it to Avery, who was entranced by that fat cock sticking to his thigh. Lemond, as it turned out, was more realistic than most of the aspiring rappers Avery had met — he wasn’t trying to be a gangsta, he didn’t care about street credibility at all — he was a kid’s entertainer. He had released an album of songs about counting, letters, body parts and colors. It had done well, he said — he didn’t make much money, but he was about to go into the studio for a follow-up, and this time, he had a much better contract.
“But for now, you know, I still gotta strip to make ends meet. This month is tough,” Lemond said. “There ain’t a lotta call for strippers in March. It’s been a dry spell.
“Oh that sucks,” Avery said. “I wish I knew of some more parties coming up you could strip at.”
Lemond shrugged. “I’ll figure something out. Lemme know if you get an idea,” he said. He handed over a business card. Then he sighed. “I guess I should go. Technically they hired me for another twenty minutes, but…”
“I… I have an idea,” Avery said. He licked his lips and looked at Lemond. “If you stick it in me, I’ll give you five hundred dollars.”
Lemond looked at him as though his knee-jerk reaction was to say no. Then he shrugged. “Make it eight hundred.”
“Fine.” Avery considered haggling, but he could afford it, and Lemond had been so charming, he didn’t want to nickel-and-dime him.
Lemond sighed and leaned his head back as though this was a huge imposition and he was exhausted. Avery wondered for the first time if he had been working up to this — was he a hustler? He had been hesitant, yet willing, to dance for Avery all night, and now he was hesitant yet willing? If shaking his ass for Avery had been uncomfortable, why would he agree to plow into him? Lemond grumbled a bit, but it was too realistic, like Lemond knew the best way to get more money was to pretend he needed to be convinced to do it.
Oh well, Avery shrugged. That was part of being into rough trade, he thought, sometimes you got hustled.
“Your cock is so big,” Avery said as he picked it up with one hand. He sunk to his knees between Lemond’s legs, while Lemond lit up his blunt and took a deep drag off it. The fragrant smell of weed filled the air. Lemond’s dick was so big Avery couldn’t wrap his fingers all the way around it. “It’ll be a challenge to swallow.”
Lemond snorted. “You can’t deep-throat it, no one can,” he said like he hated having a big cock. But a smile flickered over his lips too.
“Well, I can’t wait to try,” Avery said. He let the tip fill his mouth. There was still a good ten inches of dickmeat left to slurp on, but Avery just focused on the tip at first.
“Man… I can’t believe I’m lettin’ a man jack me off,” Lemond said as he smoked on the blunt. “I ain’t like that, you know? Don’t fall in love with me. I can’t look, I gotta cover my eyes.” He leaned his head back and put one of his forearms over his eyes. He left enough room for him to keep smoking on the blunt.
Avery had to roll his eyes. This had passed the point of believability — Lemond was too focused on smoking weed to lie effectively. If he was really this nervous about being with a man, he wouldn’t be ignoring Avery to smoke the blunt. Who got off from a man for the first time, made a big deal out of it and then ignored it to smoke some weed?
But Avery wasn’t going to accuse him of being a hustler. He was plenty handsome, after all, that wasn’t a trick.
His dick firmed up in Avery’s mouth, but it was too big to really get hard without some serious deep-throating. Avery took a deep breath and used his own fingers to pry his jaw open the best he could. He let that massive rod slide down him.
“Damn, I never had a man jack me off like that,” Lemond said with a sigh. “You really get deep.” Then his whole body startled and he blurted out, “I mean, I never had a man jack me off at all.” He laughed nervously. “See, uh… Cuz it’s my first time.” His eyes opened wide as a visible shiver of pleasure ran up his spine. “Goddamn… You can get awful deep on there…”
Avery was an expert at swallowing dick. He had been practicing on loosening up his throat for years — he did exercises daily — and was glad to see that was paying off. He pulled off and hocked up a big mouth full of spit. Lemond watched with a cocky grin on his face. Avery moaned through the moisture in his mouth, murmuring, “Hmmm… I wanna taste your whole dick in my throat…”
Lemond licked his tongue. The clue was in his mouth, Avery saw, which was grinning and pursed, excited, glad to get a nice mouth, while his eyes showed the shock he was trying to display — he was a good liar, it was just hard to lie with your mouth. Lemond’s eyes had never been jacked off by a man, but his mouth was a hustler.
Saliva slid down his shaft as Avery slammed his head down. He choked but kept going, hands roaming up to Lemond’s gorgeous pecs. Soon he gagged over and over, producing more spit that helped lube up Lemond’s throbbing manhood, and his nose pressed into the shaved skin of Lemond’s crotch.
“Goddamn, holy fuck, you’re — shit!” Lemond’s voice broke, and he writhed on the chair he still sat on. His muscles all flexed and he grunted loudly. He dropped the blunt on the floor. Thirteen inches of stripper manmeat flooded Avery’s throat, stretching it and making him sputter. His jaw was sore.
Though Avery’s mind cried out for oxygen, he didn’t want to stop just yet. He didn’t mind his lungs desperation or the heaving, retching his body went through. The fact that this was slightly painful just made it hotter, he thought, and all the tension in Avery’s body was in Lemond’s too as he approached his orgasm. The only difference was that Avery’s lithe body twisted, while Lemond’s thickness flexed and firmed up. Lemond gasped and shifted around on his chair. Soon he was literally on the edge of his seat, licking his lips, gripping Lemond’s ears to keep his face angled the right way.
At last, Avery pulled all the way off and gasped loudly, hoarsely, for air. He grinned at the shocked look on Lemond’s face. “Hmmm… Your dick tastes so good.”
“I know, baby.”
“You wanna stick it in me?” Avery said. He turned around, still heaving for air and dizzy from lack of oxygen. He showed off his bare ass, lowering his face to the floor. “C’mon, I wanna feel you inside me.”
“Hell yeah, lemme in there,” Lemond said. He wedged his dick between Avery’s cheeks. “You feel how big that is? Huh? You gonna take that whole thing in there? I bet you can.”
“I can… You won’t be gentle, will you?” Avery asked with a giggle.
Lemond chuckled. “Not if you don’t want, baby,” he said. He aimed his dick for the hole as he smeared lube over the shaft — he had apparently brought his own lube. He bit his lip and slid the tip in. Avery grunted and tightened his body instinctively, before taking a deep breath and relaxing it. He sighed. Lemond slapped one asscheek, then he grunted like he had forgotten he was supposed to be reluctant.
“Shit, you as smooth as any female, I like that in a man-” he winced and cut himself off again. “Not that I ever did it before. I like — That’s why I was, y’know, reluctant, I wasn’t sure I could handle a man’s ass. That’s all.”
“Uh-huh. Cuz… it’s your first time?” Avery said with a tense giggle. He had to suck in his breath to relax his ass more and more, as that entire thick shaft slipped in deeper and deeper. “That’s good lube,” Avery said between gasps.
“Yeah, it’s Shaft-Slipper, you ever heard of it? Good stuff, it’s what I always bring to shows.” He paused. “With women, I mean. Women pay for, you know…” He shuddered and his voice broke. His dick was all the way in now, all thirteen inches throbbing in Avery’s ass. Lemond backed his cock up, slowly at first as he began gyrating his hips.
“Women pay you for anal? You’re an… anal gigolo?” Avery giggled. It was getting easier to concentrate even with that forearm-sized cock stretching his asshole, and he felt thin slivers of pleasure flowing through his veins.
“Uh… Yeah. Yeah, some of ’em, uh… really love anal,” Lemond said.
“I… don’t believe you,” Avery said, his voice hoarse and breathless. He slid his ass back on Lemond’s cock. “You cornhole men for money all the time, right?”
Lemond smirked but shook his head. “I swear, you’re my first.”
Avery rolled his eyes. “No woman pays to get fucked in the ass by a thirteen-inch cock.” He grunted, reaching behind himself to guide Lemond’s dick in and out. “Only a man would ever do that.”
Lemond grumbled without answering. He wrapped one of his massive biceps around Avery’s head, so Avery’s face was ensconced in his stone-like muscles. His other arm held Avery’s ass firmly in place. “Women love me,” he said, ramming his dick in, the entire shaft in one motion that made Avery howl with pleasure. “They’ll pay anything for my meat…”
Avery’s cock throbbed, precum dripping onto the floor. Avery’s hands flailed, the sensations coursing through his body so intense he couldn’t even jack himself off. He was impaled on Lemond’s rock-hard shaft, and the best part was how Lemond seemed distant now, moaning, groaning, but still just heavy breathing into Avery’s ass — was Lemond really enjoying this that much or was he exaggerating for Avery’s benefit? It was impossible to be sure. Avery squirmed in his arms, gasping, licking, sucking all the sweat off his body.
“Hey… I really need the money, man,” Lemond said. He whispered directly into Avery’s ear. “I’m desperate. You wanna gimme another five hundred bucks? I’ll admit it, you were right, I’ve stuck men before. I’m not proud of it, I just… I need the money, and I need it now.”
“Oh god, stick it in me!” Avery slammed his own ass back and forth the best he could, but he was curled up in Lemond’s arms. Lemond was motionless right now, his cock standing up straight within Avery’s ass. Lemond breathed heavily, his hot air condensing on Lemond’s ear.
“I will. I want to. For five hundred dollars… I’ll do something nasty,” Lemond said. Then he whispered right into Avery’s ear as though it was a secret. “I’ll give you a reacharound and let you kiss me for five hundred dollars. That’ll be thirteen hundred total. No checks.”
“Okay, yes! Yes!”
“You got cash?”
“Not with me! Not all of it! I swear, I can get you the rest! I swear! Do it!”
“Don’t mess with me, man, I’ll mess you up, and not in a way you enjoy,” he said.
“I won’t! I’ll pay!” Avery felt tears in his eyes. He wiggled this way and that on Lemond’s crotch, but he couldn’t move forward or back because Lemond’s powerful arm held him in place.
Lemond thought for a moment, then sucked on Avery’s earlobe and said, “Fine.” He turned Avery’s head to the side, planted his lips on Avery’s and his tongue invaded Avery’s mouth. At the same time, his hand wrapped around Avery’s cock and gave it a stroke.
Avery had never felt anything like this. He had been swallowed up by Lemond’s massive body, and all he could do was take it. He’d never taken dick like this. Lemond’s tongue explored his mouth, while his hand expertly ran up and down his shaft. Avery’s fingers clawed at his stone-like body, which Lemond ignored.
The most intense orgasm of his life smacked into Avery like a train. He would have cried out loud but his mouth was clogged with Lemond’s tongue, so all he did was whimper. His ass loosened, then clenched tightly as Lemond plowed in.
Cum flew over Lemond’s fingers and onto the floor. Lemond had been holding off on his own orgasm, wanting to make Avery cum first — he’d been doing this often enough he had remarkable control over his cock. Once he felt that first spray of sticky cum on his hand, he rocked his hips back and forth a few more times and let his orgasm happen.
Avery shuddered and sobbed — he’d never cried during an orgasm before, but the pain in his ass was so intense he couldn’t help it, even if he didn’t feel the pain — he was aware it was there; he couldn’t help but be aware of the biggest dick of his life throbbing in his ass — it was like a distant pain that was happening to someone else, and Avery could sense it but not experience it.
Instead, he experienced an orgasm. Red-faced and panting, he accepted every drop of Lemond’s load as he begged for more. Avery felt cum trickling throughout him, Lemond’s sticky wad jetting into him deeply, seeping into his flesh until Avery could feel it all over.
His tongue slathered spit over Avery’s face, which was a little sour and salty because he had been slurping on Lemond’s dick earlier — Lemond didn’t like that, but he’d done this often enough it didn’t bother him as long as it was his own precum. He did gag at the taste, but he knew that just turned some men on even more. When he gagged, his broad chest muscles all flexed against Avery’s smooth back.
At last, Avery fell limp, and Lemond knew that meant he was done. He backed up slowly, grimacing at the sight of his shaft stretching out that tight hole. It was full of cum, which seeped out and coated Avery’s ass.
“Shit…” Lemond said with a dry chuckle. He slapped Avery’s cheek. “I’m glad I did that, even if it was… y’know, gross.”
“Right.” Avery was breathless. “And it was your first time.”
“Uh-huh.” Lemond stood. He wiped his dick off and put his pants back on. He didn’t bother to put his pants on too. “I’m all done, man, I’m off. So… I’m leaving.”
“Okay, cool,” Avery said. “Thanks for the dick… Your first time.”
“Right, yeah, first time. I jacked off a man,” Lemond said absent-mindedly. He wasn’t really trying to lie effectively now. “Gross. That was gross. Cuz I never did it before.” He sighed as he got dressed. “You gotta get your phone out.” He snapped when Avery didn’t immediately jump into action. “You got PayUp, right? Go get yo’ phone. You best pay me. Lemond always gets paid.”

The Alpha in a Wifebeater

When a roughneck comes by Avery’s place to ask for money, Avery just might be in for more than he bargained for… a lot more! That’s because this blue-collar stud has got more meat than he knows what to do with.

Luckily Avery knows exactly how to handle this much meat!

Read it now as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Avery was glad to have the house to himself on Thanksgiving. He was living with his sister, her husband and her two daughters, but they were all away at Avery’s brother-in-law’s parents’s house. Avery was invited but begged it off. He rarely got the whole house to himself, and he didn’t want to waste the opportunity. Besides that, he didn’t like his brother-in-law’s family, and he didn’t get the impression they liked him much either. So he was alone for the holiday weekend. He couldn’t really complain though, he had a whole apartment above the garage, so he didn’t have to see his nieces at all if he didn’t want to (and there were times he definitely did not want to see the screaming terrors).
But he did love holidays, so he was disappointed that he didn’t have anyone to celebrate it with. Tomorrow, he and a few friends would be having a Friendsgiving after a day of shopping, but that wasn’t really the same thing.
There was a knock on the garage door. Avery was in the main house right now, since he could have it to himself, but he heard someone banging hesitantly on the garage door.
A deep raspy voice called out, “Hello?!”
Avery peered through the window. There was a man standing there. He was underdressed for the weather, in just a wifebeater and camo pants. There was a light dusting of snow on the ground, and it was very cold for northern California. He shivered. It looked like he hadn’t really given much thought to what he wore in the snow. His massive biceps shook as he trembled in the cold.
He had a shaved head, though a stubble had grown recently, and he had a scruffy beard too. He had a husky build, with muscles bulging out of his wifebeater. He was very tall, carrying himself like a blue-collar worker, Avery thought, maybe a carpenter or plumber. Maybe military. He had a bald eagle tattooed on his heart, just barely visible peeking over the rim of his ragged wifebeater. He looked uncomfortable with his own heft, and Avery was sure he would blush if anyone ever told him how handsome he was. That made Avery want to tell him so.
Avery opened the front door of the house. “Hey,” he said, calling out to the garage where the man knocked.
“Oh, hi, you must be Avery.” He came to the front door and shivered. He looked like he expected to be let in. “I’m Spackle. Albert Spackle, but e’ryone calls me Spackle. I’m Gregory Spackle’s grandson.” He gestured to one of the houses across the way. That made Avery snicker to himself — Mr. Spackle was an elderly redneck who was hilarious in his own little way — his own racist, catankerous and bitter way — Avery could only imagine what Mr. Spackle had told his grandson about him. Spackle smiled nervously. “Can I come in?”
“Uh… Do you… have a reason?” Avery asked. “Sorry, I mean, I don’t know you or anything-“
“No, yeah, I, uh, I guess… I should have expected that. It’s just really cold,” he said. He bit his lip.
“Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?”
“Uh… My granddad said you’d be, uh… that you’d get me inside quicker than a… …” He blushed and didn’t finish the analogy. “Well, I guess he ain’t mean it literally, I should’ve… I, uh…” He shivered again and laughed. “It’s never this cold at Thanksgiving, man, I ain’t even bring no long-sleeves back with me. Uh…”
“Yeah, weird weather this year.”
“Look… My granddad… My granddad — I mean, no offense man, you got like, a lisp and a limp wrist and, uh-” Spackle gestured towards Avery.
“Uh-huh,” Avery said. He smiled and threw his hands up. He suspected where Spackle was going with this, but he wanted to make him struggle to get there. Snow continued falling on Spackle’s broad shoulders, dappling his skin with little white flakes that melted instantly.
“Yeah.” Spackle blushed. His deep voice resonated, filling the doorway and echoing around in Avery’s ears. He had that big-guy voice, all dull and flat, draping over Avery like a baritone blanket. “So my granddad said… Look, I’m gonna be honest wit’ you, I got some money problems right now. Okay? It ain’t like… It ain’t, you know, drugs or nothin’ like that. But, uh… my granddad says you… You like, sometimes pay dudes to like… jack them off, or whatever.” His cheeks turned bright red, and he gestured increasingly wildly. “No offense, man,That’s, uh, but I am, like… I am okay, with the whole… thing.”
Avery chuckled. “So your granddad said I’d fall head over heels in love with you and pay you, so you should come over here to make some money? And I’d just open the door for you right away?”
“Well… He ain’t exactly phrase it like a suggestion. He kinda meant it, like… you know, a bad thing, like somethin’… Like he said basically if I was a deadbeat, you know… He said he’s not giving me money and I should just come over here if I’m… You know, if I need money, I should come here and ask you instead of him. He ain’t gonna give me… Well, he’s old-fashioned.”
“Yeah, I noticed.” Avery sighed and opened the door. “Your granddad is totally right, by the way. I’ll give you two hundred dollars to cornhole me.”
“Oh hell yeah, okay, finally,” Spackle said. He came in and immediately undid his belt, dropping his pants to his ankles. Only then did he begin to unlace his heavy workboots. Spackle looked a lot more confident now that he was inside.
“Finally?”
“I work at an oil rig in the Gulf of Mexico, right? And we get leave off in this crapdunk little town called Masquerez, ain’t jack-shit there to do. All the chicks is Mexican and fat. Not a single one is fuckable. I mean, I still fuck ‘em, but I ain’t proud,” he said with a chuckle. His deep voice boomed; he spoke loudly, like he was used to being on an oil rig where engines constantly whirred. As he removed his boots with his pants around his ankles, his arms bulged and his pecs rippled beneath his wifebeather, which was ripped and stained with layers of grease and industrial lubricant. “And uh… me and my buddies Eddie and Dog and Raffy — he’s from Jamaica — and we all heard this rumor ‘bout this dude who pays money for it, y’know, for swallowin’ dick. And we spent all fucking night chasing this dude, never found him, man. We found one Mexican who ain’t speak no English and he got even less money than me, so we ain’t cornhole him.” He leaned back and wiggled his toes. He propped his feet up on the coffee table. He grabbed the remote control. “You got porn on here?”
“Prolly not. This is my sister’s place. I doubt her husband dares to keep porn in here,” Avery said. “And I bet he’s into something gross like diapers.”
“Ew, nasty,” Spackle said with a chuckle. He burped, settling back on the couch — looking ridiculous in his holey socks and wifebeater, which he seemed to have forgotten he was still wearing. His pants lay crumpled up on the floor beside the couch. “Sorry if that weren’t romantic.” He flicked through the channels and eventually found some hip hop music video channel that was nearly softcore porn. “So, uh… I dunno how you do it. I mean, I know… like the gist of it. But I dunno what to do.”
“Don’t worry, you’ll figure it out,” Avery said. He sunk between his knees in front of Spackle.
“Oh, I should shower first, man, you don’t wanna jerk me off yet,” Spackle said. He chuckled. He sniffed his armpit and wrinkled his nose. “I smell rank, sorry, man.” He was about to take off his wifebeater finally, but Avery stopped him.
“What? No. You are way off,” Avery said. “I love dirty guys.”
“Ew, why?”
“The smell,” Avery said with a smile. He dove his face into Spackle’s armpit, the same one he had sniffed and found wanting. It was disgusting, he was right about that. It was slick with sweat — Spackle’s grandparents kept their house at a sweltering temperature, which was why he had been wearing just that wifebeater and shorts until he put on pants to come over here. So Spackle had been sweating since he got to the house late last night.
His armpit was so wet it was like he had just taken a shower, though the smell proved he hadn’t. Avery also tasted snow that lingered on his muscles.
Avery kissed up Spackle’s arm from his pit, inhaling the filth of his wifebeater as he went. He had tattoos on his arm, a silhouette of a naked woman, an iron cross, a network of barbed wire, and Avery licked an outline of each one. Spackle watched him with a wry smile like he might watch a child explore something mundane. His muscles were stiff, too nervous at being licked like a cat to relax.
Then Avery kissed his shoulder and the lower side of his neck, where a climbing ivy tattoo extended up to his ear. Avery’s hands snaked under his wifebeater and teased his nipples. As soon as Avery’s tongue and lips touched Spackle’s scruffy neck, Spackle’s whole body tensed even more. Avery knew he had made a mistake.
“Ugh…” Spackle sucked in his breath like he was thinking of hitting Avery for kissing him on the neck — that was almost like a real kiss, perilously close to his lips. That was too much for Spackle. He sucked in his breath and grunted.
Avery’s heart skipped a beat. Spackle was huge and bulky and possibly violent. He was a roughneck. Avery wasn’t sure how’d respond. He should not have tried to kiss his neck.
But Spackle just placed one heavy hand on Avery’s head. He gently but firmly pushed him down.
He chuckled nervously and pointed to a spot about a third of the way up his neck — he was very muscular, so he didn’t really have much of a neck. He pointed to just above his shoulders. “You can kiss me up to here, man. No higher than that. We ain’t makin’ out. No hickeys neither. I can’t explain that to my mama.”
“Okay,” Avery said. Spackle breathed a sigh of relief like he thought his rule might have been a dealbreaker for Avery.
Avery didn’t mind. He liked pushing alphas to their limits. He took off his own clothes as he sucked on Spackle’s wifebeater-clad chest and shoulders, below the limit. Spackle was hairy and dusty, and he was tense wherever Avery kissed. Spackle’s skin puckered underneath Avery’s lips.
“Ah… Damn,” Spackle said. He blushed a bright red. “Man, this shit is crazy. I ain’t know it was gonna be like this.” He shifted his weight on the couch. “I mean… they said that dude in Texas, man, he was… It was like a gloryhole thing. Supposedly. You ain’t gotta look at him or nothing. He ain’t lickin’ ya nipples. Shit’s crazy.”
“You like blowjobs from women, don’t you?”
“Hell yeah.”
“You want me to just go straight to swallowing your cock?”
He snorted and chuckled. He whipped his cock out the fly of his tattered brown boxers. He thwacked its limp shaft around, battering Avery’s shoulder with it. He licked his teeth.
“Hell yeah, man, fuck,” Spackle said. He bit his lip, smiling as he thwacked his dick on Avery’s face. “You deepthroat? Ain’t no girls deepthroat no more.”
Avery giggled. He stuck his finger down his throat to demonstrate. He got it way down there before gagging. Spackle lowered his eyes and breathed deeply. His cock twitched.
“Ah yeah, man, like that,” Spackle said, his voice rumbling like he had to force himself not to attack Avery’s throat right now. His muscles flexed under his wifebeater.
“I’ll let you facefuck me,” Avery said. “If you let me get you hard with a little jousting.” Avery giggled.
Spackle laughed a deep barrel laugh. He covered his face with his hands. “Okay, but I’m puttin’ a time limit. One minute, man. If I don’t get hard in one minute, you put it in your mouth. Ain’t no way I’m gonna get hard touchin’ a dick. No offense.”
“None taken.” Avery knew that Spackle was probably right. Avery didn’t care. The point wasn’t to actually get him hard. Avery would just enjoy trying.
Avery kneeled in front of Spackle, who was still sprawled out on the cushions. Avery thwacked his own hefty cock against Spackle’s, and when he did, Spackle’s whole body jerked. Spackle’s eyes were closed, one hand covering his face. He groaned and giggled like a boy. He covered his eyes with both arm.
“Ah, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit,” he said. His voice was muffled by his arms. “That’s nasty…”
“You ever touch cocks with another man?” Avery smushed his erection against Spackle’s limpness, while Avery’s hands slipped under his wifebeater to grope his chest.
“Nah… I mean… Maybe kinda.” He laughed again, his anxiety evident in the wavery tone of his voice. His face was covered by his forearms, but even through the gaps in the flesh, Avery could see his dingy face turning red like a cranberry. He giggled so uncontrollably he squealed like a mouse, a very deep-voiced, raspy-throated mouse.
“You okay, Spackle?” Avery asked as he stroked both cocks together. Avery’s was smooth and clean, while Spackle’s was tan, veiny, knobbly, and even had a small faded scar along the top of it, near the root.
“Yeah.” Spackle had to take a deep breath to regain control of himself. He peered through his fingers, but when he saw his cock touching Avery’s, he squirmed and re-covered his eyes. He cleared his throat and tried to regain his composure. “Nah, it wasn’t nevuh like this.” He paused and bit his lip. “Alright, yeah. One time. Raffy — that’s that Jamaican dude — he was… he had this game. He said it was Jamaican but some other dude googled it and said he saw nothin’ ‘bout it in Jamaica or anywhere else.” He paused and laughed. “I only did it one time. But, uh… He like come up at ya wit’ his big floppy dick, and you… you know, you hit each other’s dicks and shit. Like joustin’ for real, you know? And uh… if you back out cuz his dick hurt ya — and Raffy knows how to do that too, he got a massive rod and he uses it like a fucking club, man, he really gets ya with it. He hits ya in the balls with it. Anyway if it hurts and ya gotta back out, you lose, and if you get hard, you gotta suck his dick.” Avery chuckled. “It’s how Raffy always wanna settle things.”
“You did that?”
Spackle talked more fluidly now, still watching his dick limply rub against Avery’s, but his anxiety over it seemed to have dwindled. “Just one time. That motherfucker was trying to take my towel, man. We was in the shower. He said he just forgot his, he wanna share. I was like, I do a lot of things for my friends, but I ain’t gonna let you wipe ya ass off with my towel and then I’m gonna use it. I’m gonna wipe my face off wit’ ya ass all over my towel? No way, no I ain’t.”
“You won?”
He shrugged. “Kinda. We was still goin’ when my boss came in the shower. He don’t tolerate that shit, so he made us stop.” He paused. “Okay, man, start suckin’.” He breathed a sigh of relief when Avery pulled away from his cock. “On the rig, we got a lotta Africans and shit, Arabs, that kind of thing. They ain’t nice about that kinda shit,” he said. “And Indonesians. We got Indonesians.” He shifted his weight on his asscheeks.
Once the minute was up, Avery stopped jousting — he waited for Spackle to tell him, so it was actually more like three minutes. Spackle’s dick roped around in Avery’s grip and rubbed against Avery’s cock, but when he was done, Avery kissed a trail down Spackle’s chest. He reached his crotch, kissed his cock on the top and then very briefly, chastely, kissed Spackle on the lips. No tongue. Spackle groaned anyway, and before he could complain, Avery swallowed his cock as deep as he could go in one motion.
His cock remained limp at first, as an awkward silence filled the room. Avery wondered if Spackle would even be able to get hard — not all guys could do it, no matter how much money they were offered.
But then finally, Spackle’s dick perked up. It twitched in Avery’s mouth, then got firmer and firmer. Spackle watched like he had never seen this happen before. His eyes were open wide.
“Ah, yeah, yeah, like that,” Spackle said. He moaned like Avery was scratching an itch he hadn’t been able to reach for a long time. He leaned back on the couch. He grabbed his pants and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. “Can I smoke in here?”
“No, sorry. It’s my sister’s house. She would literally shit a brick,” Avery said, wiping precum and spit off his chin.
He smiled. “I’d like to see that.” But he did put the cigarettes away, back in the pocket of his workpants on the floor. He shrugged. “I’m trying to quit anyway.”
Avery rammed his head all the way down on Spackle’s cock. He gagged, but he kept his mouth in position, even as his throat clenched and fought against Spackle’s shaft. He choked up spit, while Spackle groaned and grunted.
He was a very loud humper. Spackle kept on making sounds, whirring and hooting at himself, chuckling at jokes only he heard, shifting his weight on the couch. Avery couldn’t tell if he always did it like this or if he just did it because he was nervous. His wifebeater shook as his muscles al l flexed and stayed tense.
“You ready to cornhole me?”
Spackle blushed again. “Yeah, course,” he said. He said it like a macho man, but it was obvious that he was nervous. When Avery bent over his lap with his ass in the air, Spackle sighed with relief. “Damn, thank god, I was worried you’d be hairy. You shave your ass, right? I’m glad girls don’t get hair in their asses.”
“Girls absolutely get hairy asses,” Avery said as he backed his ass towards Spackle’s lap. “They shave.”
“What? No way.”
“Yes way, I swear. Or a lot of them do, anyway. Not all.”
Spackle wrinkled his nose and watched Avery’s ass collide with his erection. “Well… I don’t much like that, they shouldn’t get hair in their asses, man, that’s gross.”
Avery giggled. His ass rubbed against Spackle’s shaft. “I will be sure to inform the Committee to Regulate Female Asses,” he said. Then he shuddered in both pain and pleasure when Spackle’s dick pushed into his asshole.
Spackle gasped. “Aw, fuck, aw, fuck, man, aw, fuck, I don’t even… Aw, fuck…”
“You like that?” Avery asked.
“Fuck yeah,” Spackle groaned, and his whole body rattled. He absent-mindedly lifted his wifebeater as though going to take it off, but then he dropped it and left it on. He held his breath, watching Avery squirm backwards deeper and deeper onto his cock. “Yo, man, yo… I gotta… Yo, man, you, uh… what kinda positions you like?”
Avery found it difficult to concentrate while his ass loosened and adjusted to Spackle’s cock. So he just said, “Any, really. What do you want to try?”
“No big deal, just… no girls ever wanna do this,” he said. “They say it hurts too bad. Man, girls complain a lot. Why don’t you complain?”
“Cuz I like getting it up the ass from dirty guys with big monster dicks,” Avery snapped. “Girls don’t.”
He sniffled. “Fuckin’ bitches…” he said. There was a faint note of pride there, he enjoyed hearing talk about his “monster dick”. He wrapped his arms around Avery’s chest. He rotated so that he laid out on the couch — he was a little too tall, so his feet had to be angled off the edge. Avery struggled to remain atop his cock, but all the extra motion made him horny enough to burst.
Spackle hugged Avery to keep him close, and Avery’s back rubbed against his filthy wifebeater Avery held his breath, trying to endure the awe-striking pressure in his ass. Spackle’s entire cock was in him, throbbing, and since he was mounted on Spackle’s sweat-slippened body, Avery could do little more than slide around on his muscles.
But Spackle wrapped his arms over Avery’s chest, and he even hooked his legs around Avery’s ankles. That pinned Avery on his back on Spackle’s chest and cock. The smell of his unwashed roughneck body was overpowering, like Avery was bathing in his funk.
“This alright, man?” Spackle asked.
“Hell yeah.” Avery’s voice was weak and thready. “Girls are never going to like this position, Spackle. It hurts. I like it because… well, for my own reasons. Don’t bother asking girls to do this.”
He sighed. “I know.” He took a deep breath and started ramming his dick upwards into Avery’s ass. He was quick like it was a race, like he was trying to shatter Avery’s insides. Avery yelped and screamed, in pain at first but then with pleasure flowing through his veins.
Spackle’s cell phone rang. He cursed and answered it, only slowing down a little bit. “It’s my sister,” he said like he didn’t want to talk to her.
He answered it anyway though. “Hey. I’m around. Near the house. None of your business. No. No. No! No! No! You better not!” His cock trembled in Avery’s ass. Spackle breathed heavily but tried to conceal it. He wiped sweat off his brow and smeared it on his wifebeater. “I am not! I don’t even know none the neighbors here. Grandpa is an asshole, I don’t think he was right about that. I’m… at the store! I wanted to pick up a…”
“Bottle of wine.” Avery whispered, struggling to speak with the intense pressure in his ass.
“A bottle of wine! I wanted to get wine for dinner tonight! Yes, I know what wine is! We’re not that barbaric on the oil rig, you know! Oh, you think you know everything? I ain’t a rentboy, shut up!” He hung up the phone. His cock twitched angrily in Avery’s ass. “Fucking bitch. She knows where I am, by the way. If she ever asks, I didn’t come over here. I’ll tell her I dropped the wine and broke it on the way back.”
“I have wine,” Avery said. “You can take a bottle.” His voice was tense, breathless, clipped. He sounded like he was near tears, though he was merely near orgasm instead. “You can leave out the back. You can come out down the street, it’ll look like you’re coming back from the store.”
“Shit, alright, thanks,” he said. He took a deep breath. “I wanna do somethin’ nice for you, but I can’t think of nothin’. Don’t ask for a reacharound, I don’t do that.”
“Take a video of that Jamaican guy. Record yourself thwacking dicks with him. I wanna watch,” he said, ramming without even paying attention to it, like he was just moving on auto-pilot. Avery sighed as his prostate sent wave after wave of pleasure through his body.
Spackle gagged and winced. “Ah…” He smiled. “Oh, okay, yeah, I’ll just tell him it’s for a girl, alright? I’ll say I know a girl who wanna see it.”
“Yeah, that’s fine.” Avery yelped like a puppy. He at last reached orgasm as Spackle finally began fucking again, triggering Avery’s whole body to tense and send pleasure pounding up his spine. Spackle didn’t notice right away because he was focused on his own cock, which spasmed as his balls drew up in his sac.
Then Spackle moaned in disgust when he saw Avery spray cum over his belly and chest. It covered Spackle’s muscles and matted his wifebeater to his skin. Spackle closed his eyes and muttered a complaint about the cummy smell. “Nasty…”
But it didn’t slow him down any. He groaned right into Avery’s ear. He jackrabbited his cock into Avery’s ass again, so hard and so violently that Avery screamed in both pain and pleasure. His fucking accentuated the orgasmic aftershocks that wracked Avery’s body.
“I’m gonna nut, man, gonna nut, gonna fill you up, aw shit, man aw shit, aw shit!” His voice gradually rose to a plaintive yell.
Hot cum spurted into Avery’s ass. It was a thick, creamy load, even denser and stickier than most. It coated Avery’s ass in warmth, and it kept on going. Avery took a deep breath and savored the feel of looping jets of cum covering his prostate and dripping throughout his body.
Spackle sighed grandly. When Avery moved, Spackle gasped and held Avery’s hips in place. His cock twitched, which made Avery hold back a howl of pain. The movement kept his post-orgasm going, however, and Avery shuddered uncontrollably.
At last Spackle was done. Thick gobs of cum dripped down his shaft and into his pubic hair. He shuddered too, and then he fell limp.
Even when Avery lifted off him, Spackle just sprawled out on the couch. He groaned. He burped again. Avery stretched his legs and grabbed some napkins. He cleaned off Spackle’s cock, which rapidly limpened in Avery’s fingers. Spackle took off his wifebeater, which had Avery’s cum on it.
“Damn,” Spackle said. He sighed. “Do I gotta go back to my family? Can I stay here all day?”
“Fine with me.”
He frowned. “I know. But I can’t. My mama would kill me,” he said. “You’ll still be here tonight?”
“Yes,” Avery said. He went into the kitchen to grab a bottle of wine. He handed it to Spackle.
“Good,” he said. He smiled. “Will you pay me again tonight?”
Avery giggled. “Not five hundred dollars.” He wrote out the check to Thomas Spackle and handed it over. In the memo field, he had written meat, but Spackle didn’t even look at it yet.
“Oh.”
“Don’t worry though. We can have fun, and I bet you can make some money one way or another. Maybe not five hundred bucks…” Avery said. Spackle nodded and agreed. He put his pants back on, then offered Avery the cum- and filth-encrusted wifebeater, which was soaked in his sweat. He left through the back door. Avery watched him sneak down the street, then shiveringly walk bare-chested back to his grandfather’s house, carrying the bottle of wine.
Avery took a deep sniff of the musk staining his wifebeater, and he smiled with satisfaction. He hoped Spackle would come back one day soon.

The Cocky Thug

Alboroto is a badass and a ladysman, but when he gets in a bad spot, a weird gringo white dude is willing to give him a few dollars in exchange for a swing on his alpha male meat!

Not that Alboroto needs any help…

Read it now as an ebook!

Or read the whole thing here!

Rob settled into his motel room at the Top Inn and got to work. The weather was beautiful, and the beach was not far from here. He really wanted to go out and bask in the sun, swim in the sea for the first time in years, not to mention eyebang the hunks and hotties whom he suspected would be there. Riverside, California seemed to be full of studs.
So that was what he needed to get done today. He had already written most of it. He just needed to churn the ending out, then he could go out guy-watching — Rob appreciated the male physique, and Riverside was full of splendid examples of it. Any city with this many men had to leave most of them unsatisfied, since there weren’t anywhere’s near as many sexy women that Rob could see.
When he reached a good stopping point, he decided to take a break. All he had to write was another four thousand words or so for the ending, and he’d be done for the day. Rob could write ten thousand words a day without breaking a sweat.
He resolved to at least sketch out the chapter, but then he nearly bumped into the bare, bulging bicep of a young Latino man walking by. Rob caught a whiff of his cheap cologne and a few sweaty notes that made his dick chub up.
The Latino didn’t notice that he had nearly bumped into Rob because he was on his cell phone, clicking his tongue against his teeth as a feminine voice yelled at him. His pants were slung low, and his muscles bulged from his wifebeater, atop which hung a couple shimmering chains.
“I told you, chica, I’ll buy it. I promise. Yo’ birthday ain’t till tomorrow, right? I ain’t late. I’ll pawn some chains, baby, don’t worry. I never let you down,” he said. “Yeah. Alright, baby.” He sighed and whispered. “Yeah, I’m sorry. I said I was sorry. I, uh, I love you, chica. C’mon… I love you. I was drunk then, but I love you, c’mon…” He looked at the phone and tssked his tonge against his teeth again. He put the phone back in his pocket — she had already hung up. He shook his head and lit a cigarette.
“Girl trouble?” Rob asked.
He glanced at Rob like he hadn’t known he was there. He nodded noncommitall and mumbled something like wuzzup.
“I’m Rob,” he said. “I’m a writer.”
“Cool.” He took a drag on his cigarette.
“I’ve got two hundred and three dollars cash in my wallet. I’ll give it to you if you let me jerk you off,” Rob said. He was blunt since it appeared this guy was not going to engage in a conversation.
The Latino looked up at Rob — though built like the proverbial brick shithouse, he was not tall — and glared at him.
He sneered. “Gringo… You should not be talkin’ ‘bout cash in this city,” he said. “I am gonna take yo’ two hundred and three dollars. And I will also let you jerk me off. Those two things ain’t related. I am robbin’ you, motherfucker, I ain’t yo’ rent boy.”
“Uh, okay,” Rob said. “Can we use your room?” He didn’t want to give this guy the chance to steal his laptop. He wasn’t writing this plowing lesbian story all over again, and he hadn’t backed up since Monday.
The Latino nodded, then let him in. He had the room next to Rob’s. As soon as he walked in, he took off his shirt. He kept his chains and his backwards baseball cap on, and he didn’t lower his pants. “You’ll lick balls, right?”
“Yes, sir, I will,” Rob said. He blushed at the sight of the Latino’s rippling muscles. That made Rob’s face and chest turn red, and his dick got a little harder in his pants. The Latino beamed like he didn’t get called sir a lot, which is exactly why Rob had done it. “What should I call you, sir?”
“Gimme that money and start,” he said, sneering at the question he refused to answer.
Rob’s hands shook as he pulled out his wallet. He had exactly two hundred and three dollars in there. He tremblingly handed it over to the Latino, and his hands fumbled with the Latino’s fly.
The word Alboroto was tattooed on his belly; Rob didn’t know what it meant. It looked like a nickname, so that was what Rob decided to call him. He unzipped Alboroto’s jeans and pulled his long, thick dick out through the fly.
“Get to suckin’, gringo,” Alboroto said. He crossed his arms over his bare chest.
Rob kissed the tip to tease him. He produced a mouthful of spit and spat it out on Alboroto’s shaft. Then he sucked the spit back up and repeated that a few times, as he licked the sides and rubbed the entire cockshaft over his lips.
But he didn’t actually put it in his mouth yet. Rob loved provoking macho alpha males like Alboroto, who kept his chin up, avoiding looking down at Rob. His arms were over his chest, and every few seconds he scoffed like he was annoyed Rob hadn’t made him cum yet.
“What do you need to buy for your girlfriend?” Rob asked. He thwacked that massive cock over his face. It was only half-hard yet, throbbing and meaty, slick with saliva. He kept his tongue out of his mouth, rubbing Alboroto’s dick over it as he talked. “Is it a present? I could help. I know a lot about what girls want.”
“What do you know about girls?”
“I’m a romance author.”
“What?”
“Remember I said I’m a writer? I mainly write romance for women,” Rob said. He licked cocksweat off his own lips and rubbed his tongue along the veins that lined Alboroto’s shaft. Rob giggled. “I know a lot about what they want.”
Alboroto scoffed and clicked his tongue against his teeth. “Man, that ain’t relevant. My girl don’t read some gringo’s romance-” He paused like he had just realized something. “Oh. I mean, she read some shit on her kindle-“
“Yeah, that’s it.”
“She read yo’ shit?”
“Well, I dunno about that, prolly not me specifically,” Rob said. “Is she into rugby jocks?” He deep-throated Alboroto’s dick one time, just lowering his head all the way until he gagged and sputtered. His nose nestled in Alboroto’s trimmed pubic hair. Alboroto gasped. His knees buckled and his dick perked up in Rob’s mouth.
His muscles roiling, jaw trembling, Alboroto mumbled something that Rob didn’t understand. It was clear that he was saying that he didn’t know what rugby was and he didn’t pay enough attention to his chica’s interests to know if she read romance novels on her kindle.
Rob pulled off and smiled up at Alboroto, who had a flat expression on his face though his suddenly pulsating cock suggested he was enjoying the dome very much. He just didn’t want to admit it. He shifted his weight.
Rob took a deep breath. “Your dick tastes so good. I bet your chica loves sucking on it.”
He flared his nostrils. “No. She-” His voice broke as Rob deep-throated him again. Alboroto grunted as he again covered up how aroused he was. “She only sucks dick if I, uh… If I do…” His voice trailed off. He looked down at his cock disappearing down Rob’s throat. “I mean, she sucks me off whenevuh I tell her to.”
Rob pulled away and clucked his tongue. “Oh, you poor baby. I think all girls should suck their man off every day,” he said. Always tell ‘em what they wanna hear…
“Hell yeah, you should run for president,” Alboroto mumbled. He groaned as his dick spasmed in Rob’s mouth.
“Is it okay if I lick your balls, sir?” Rob asked. He giggled and blushed.
Alboroto nodded. “Yeah, man, open up. You like that?” Alboroto loved it when his girl sucked on his balls, but she hated it and had only done so once.
“I love it. I bet you have tasty balls,” Rob said with a laugh.
“Si.”
Rob turned his head upwards and opened his mouth. Alboroto pulled his heavy, hairy ballsack out of the fly of his jeans, and he plopped it right in Rob’s waiting mouth. Instantly the flavor of Alboroto’s sweat assaulted Rob’s senses. He moaned and gurgled, producing more saliva and tickling Alboroto’s scrotum skin.
Alboroto grunted and heaved some more. He kept his arms folded over his chest, accentuating his thick pecs; his muscles kept tensing and flexing and he had to force his hands to remain in position. He closed his eyes and moaned, but bit his lip to stifle it.
“You okay, man,” Alboroto said with a dry, throaty chuckle. He wrinkled his nose. “You okay at this. I had better. Pity you ain’t got tits.”
Rob said he was sorry for not being a girl, but his mouth was full of sweaty balls, so all that came out was a moist, muffled sound. He licked Alboroto’s scrotum, lapping at it as Alboroto shifted his weight. His eyes bugged out like he had rarely had someone suck his balls so perfectly.
Finally Alboroto couldn’t bear to keep his arms folded over his chest anymore. He smacked the motel room wall behind himself and threw his head back. He groaned so loud the sound resonated in Rob’s ears, and he could even feel the vibrations in Alboroto’s cock.
“C’mon, lick my dick.” He grabbed Rob’s head as though going to throat him down. But then the feel of Rob’s hair stopped him — it was short and entirely too masculine. Alboroto didn’t want to touch him.
But he was enjoying the dome. He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. He put his arms over his chest again, though he found it difficult to keep them there.
Alboroto had never gotten dome from a man before. He would have never admitted that. When he was eighteen, he spent three weeks in prison. When he came back, he told his friends that he had turned a inmate into a whore and had throated him until he begged for mercy.
None of that had been true but it had made Alboroto seem like a real gangsta. He was glad to have an opportunity to really do it for once, so now he could truthfully say he wasn’t a bullshitter about this (or at least, it wasn’t completely bullshit). His friends still called him Violador sometimes in reference to it.
But he couldn’t admit, even to himself right now, how good the dome from Rob was — he always swore that prison dome was sloppy and crappy. Alboroto had been complaining to his friends for years about how he needed a girl who would suck his dick like a good, submissive bitch should.
“Swallow it deep, man, get it all the way in there… Bajo”
He wondered if he should ram this gringo in the ass. A part of him said no, of course not, that was too gross. But another part of him said to do it. He had been bragging about plowing that man in prison — he had told people he rammed that prison punk until he cried — so maybe it would be good to actually do it once. He’d never tell his friends about this one, but at least he wouldn’t be lying when he said he did it.
In truth, his friends would not think less of him for ramrodding a man. That would simply make him an hombre, which was fine. In his culture, men were either hombres who rammed or pasivos who got rammed. It wasn’t bad to be an hombre. That made you a real man, especially if you rammed your pasivo in a hard and cruel way.
So that was what he intended to do. But first, Alboroto called his friend Jamaal. “Yo.”
Yo, sup.
“You got that Carter Ave deal, right?
Yeah. Why you callin’ ‘bout that again?
“Just wanted to make sure, nigga.”
Whatchoo doin’?
“Gettin’ head. You wanna hear?” Alboroto smiled and held the phone low, right next to where his cock plunged down Rob’s throat. His dick was rock-hard now, precum flowing like piss. If he wasn’t distracted by his discomfort with being with a man, Alboroto thought he would have cum already.
Sounds nice, man. I thought yo’ chica wasn’t doin’ that anymore-
“Shut the fuck up, nigga. My bitch does it when I tell her to.”
So that is her?
“I ain’t say that. I ain’t say it was a her at all. I gots me a prison bitch, Jamaal.”
Oh yeah, right, just like that one in prison, huh?
“Fuck you.”
E’rybody know you a big bullshitter, Durango. Tha’s prolly some whore you paid like two bucks for dome.
“Man, Jamaal-“
How much she charge to take her teeth out first? You know you gonna have to pay for antibiotics, right? Would-a been cheaper to pay more fo’ a better whore.
“Ram you, Jamaal! Shut your mouth,” Getting annoyed, Alboroto resumed throating Rob down, since at least that way he could express his frustration, even if it wasn’t aimed at the right person. He gripped Rob’s head with one hand, holding the phone with the other — a few minutes ago he had found it distracting to touch a man’s hair, but now he was both hornier and more distracted, so he didn’t think of that. “Yeah, you here that, Jamaal? Huh? That’s my balls slappin’ on my bitch’s chin.”
Oh yeah? That must be nice. Ain’t nobody evuh manage to suck my dick that deep, y’know. Mouths don’t come that big.
“I’m gonna come throat yo’ face next,” Alboroto said with a snarl. He hung up the phone and threw it on the bed. He closed his eyes and mumbled to himself. He should never have called Jamaal. Jamaal was going to tell everyone that Alboroto was mess with a toothless herpes-ridden crackwhore.
He tried to banish those thoughts from his mind. He focused on the pleasure twinging up from his veiny cockshaft as saliva dripped down it in clumps, landing in his shortened pubic hair — his chica demanded he keep himself trimmed. He pumped his hips, slamming his dick down deep in Rob’s throat.
“You gonna make me nut, boy…” Alboroto said. He didn’t mention that his girlfriend’s toothy, off-rhythm sucking never brought him to orgasm so easily, on those rare occasions when he talked her into trying it.
When he felt an orgasm coming on quickly, Alboroto grabbed Rob and pulled him off his dick. He felt momentarily disappointed as his dick was now without attention. It felt cold, and it throbbed like it demanded someone touching it, sucking on it, taking it inside some tight, dark hole.
“You gonna give up the ass, gringo?”
“Yes, sir,” Rob said. He teased Alboroto by standing up and stretching his legs. He knew he had a nice plump ass, which he displayed after dropping his jeans. He made a big show of slowly bending over the bed, knowing that Alboroto would just get more frustrated as he waited. “Do you have lube?”
Alboroto nodded. He pulled a tube out of a duffel bag, out of which he had been living for the past month. He poured the lube onto the top of Rob’s asscrack, so it seeped down into his hole. It was cold at first, and Rob let out a shiver.
Then he felt an explosion of pressure in his asshole. As always, it hurt at first, more than it felt good, especially this time since Alboroto was not trying to be gentle.
But within a few seconds of that throbbing brown meat entering him, Rob moaned as a shard of pre-orgasmic pleasure hit him. He was already rock-hard from the taste of Alboroto’s dick, and now his excited prostate sent him to the next level.
“Ah, yes, stick it in me, Alboroto…” he said. His voice broke and he hung his head.
“You ain’t gotta tell me that,” Alboroto said. He saw Rob’s wallet on the floor and fished it out as he worked his dick in, centimeter by centimeter. He didn’t want to steal the man’s credit cards, that was too dangerous, but he did want to see if he had any emergency cash. Sure enough, there was a folded-up fifty dollar bill, which Alboroto pocketed. He wanted to distract the gringo, so he grabbed his own clean wifebeater and used it like a tether in the guy’s mouth.
Rob bit down hard on the fabric, which smelled of Alboroto’s sweat and his cheap cologne, a generic-brand body spray by the scent of it. That made Rob’s dick throb and leak precum onto the mattress — Rob loved the funky smell of unwashed men.
“Gonna ramroad you the way a vato should,” Alboroto said. “Get on your back, bitch.” His chest was dappled with sweat. He dropped the wifebeater, pulled his dick out and rolled Rob over. Right after being released from prison when he was eighteen, Alboroto’s uncle had told him how a real hombre should ram his pasivo. He said that the pasivo has to be on his back, with his legs in the air, both because that was similar to a position you might fuck a woman in and because it meant he couldn’t run away — Alboroto’s uncle had been in prison off and on throughout his life, in the US, Mexico and also Guatemala briefly.
Now he really wanted that position, even if it did mean he’d be able to see Rob’s cock as he jacked himself off. That just seemed gross. Alboroto couldn’t imagine how anyone took dick in the ass and liked it, and seeing Rob’s hard cock made it impossible to avoid thinking about that.
So he closed his eyes and pumped his hips. His cock was all the way in Rob’s ass. That had been so easy, and it felt so good, he didn’t even notice that he felt no real resistance. He had never fucked a girl who didn’t complain about his dick in her ass. It was nice to be able to pound away as hard as he could, knowing he wouldn’t have to hear constant whining and telling him to take a break.
He held Rob’s feet in position, and he was so aroused he didn’t even notice Rob’s leg hair scratching against Alboroto’s flesh. Alboroto slammed his dick in and out, marveling at how tight Rob’s ass was, yet loose enough that Alboroto could ram him hard.
The more he plowed back and forth, the less inhibited he got. Alboroto slapped Rob’s asscheeks, which his girl hated, and smiled as that made Rob clench and moan.
Waves of pleasure erupted from deep within Alboroto. He was about to orgasm when his cell phone rang. He knew who it was even before he pulled his cell phone out of his pants pocket. It was his chica, Rosa.
“Keep quiet, man,” he said. He answered the phone. “Hey, baby.”
You pawn those chains yet?
“It’s been like twenty minutes, chica.”
So? My birthday is still tomorrow, and if you think I’m lettin’ my sister show me up, you got another thing comin’.
“Baby, I tol’ you, I’d buy it,” he said. He sniffled. Alboroto spoke quietly and plainly to her, his bravado largely gone. He kept plowing as he talked, but he moved his hips slowly, both to keep himself from orgasming as he talked and because he didn’t want to make noise. He sighed.
Don’t you roll your eyes at me, nigga. I can hear you-
“You can’t hear my eyes roll.”
Yes, I can, you no-good asshole. You fuckin’ some slut right now?
“No, baby!”
I want that perfume, Durango. You promised it. You always say that you buy me nice things because you’re such a gangsta, but you never actually do it-
“I said I’d do it! I’ll buy it!” he said. He stopped moving with his dick all the way in Rob’s ass, so deep Rob’s balls even touched Alboroto’s crotch-hair. His dick throbbed against Rob’s prostate, making Rob writhe as he tried to avoid crying out. Alboroto was very annoyed, especially that she had called him Durango — that’s what she always called him, but Rob had started to call him Alboroto because he didn’t know his real name and it was tattooed on his belly. Alboroto had never gotten his girl to call him that. She constantly “forgot” and called him Durango. He felt like a loser complaining about it to her, but it did annoy him, and as he had been listening to Rob moan about how much he loved Alboroto’s cock sliding into him, Alboroto was now reminded of why he liked to be called by his street name.
The perfume was one recently released by a Latina rapper named Reinita Ray. Alboroto didn’t see what the big deal was — it was just a perfume — but his girlfriend idolized Reinita Ray, and her sister had gone to a concert that Alboroto had “accidentally” (but really on-purpose) forgotten to buy tickets for. So he couldn’t fail to buy the perfume as well.
You had better, nigga. You gonna pawn those chains?
“Nah. I’m robbin’ this gringo instead. Don’t call me again, I’m in the middle of a robbery,” he said. He hung up the phone before she could say anything. He turned it off. That oughta sound like a real gangsta, he thought to himself, and it wasn’t even a lie, not really.
He rammed so hard his balls slapped against Rob’s asscheeks. One of his hands had wandered over while he was on the phone, and now it rested above Rob’s neck, holding him in place. Alboroto gave him a squeeze.
It wasn’t tight enough to strangle Rob, but it did get his attention. His mind was swimming with pleasure, as he stroked himself off and wiggled on the bedspread. The blankets and sheets were wadded up by now, on the foot of the bed.
It was obvious Alboroto was about to cum. Rob orgasmed as well, his prostate singing and tingling with every thrust of Alboroto’s cock into him. Rob’s entire body tensed and clenched. He threw his head back and screamed so loud people outside the motel room could hear.
As cum flew over Rob’s stomach, Alboroto wrinkled his nose. He knew a lot of hombres didn’t allow their pasivos to jack off while they got rammed — he wished he had thought of that before, because now he could smell semen, which made his stomach churn. He even saw it trickle down Rob’s flesh, most of it going over the side and onto the mattress, but one rivulet ran down to Alboroto’s cock. If he wasn’t on the verge of orgasming as well, he would have stopped to punish Rob for getting cum on him.
“Take it, man, yeah…”
But he didn’t want to stop, even if he did feel another man’s semen coating his dick. That made him shudder with disgust. His muscles tensed. His gold and platinum changed tinkled when they clanged against each other as he rammed.
“Take it, gringo, yeah, you gonna get filled up…” He moaned as he came. He forgot about pretending he would rather be plowing a girl — he would, of course, but only if she had an ass exactly like this gringo. He strangled Rob for real, for just a few seconds, long enough to make him wiggle and clench his ass again. It felt like he was tearing that ass up, which made Alboroto feel like a tough guy, like his father.
“Oh god, Alboroto, your dick is so perfect…”
He slammed his dick in and out, even as it became uncomfortably sensitive. He liked hearing Rob enthusiastically beg for more, and he liked watching how every thrust of his hips made Rob squirm a little more. He also liked how his cumload made a big mess the more he rammed, big waves of bubbly, frothy cum coating his crotch and soaking into the mattress.
“You done, punk? Huh?” Alboroto asked — his uncle had said this was how you finished inside a pasivo in prison, so Alboroto wanted to try it out — “Huh? Answer me, bitch. You want me to pull out? I ain’t gonna pull out till you beg me to do it. Gonna stay inside ya-“
“Don’t ever pull out,” Rob said, his voice weak and tremulous. His entire body shook as aftershocks of his orgasm washed over him. He moaned again and clutched the mattress beneath himself.
Alboroto’s dick slowly limpened inside Rob’s guts. “Tell me when you done, bitch. Tell me…” His menacing voice trailed off as he realized this wasn’t going to work. Maybe in prison where you weren’t doing it on a comfortable bed, and you didn’t have nice lube. But here, this gringo was in no hurry to get Alboroto to pull out. That meant Alboroto had painted himself into a corner — he was too proud to remove his cock without hearing Rob beg, since he had sworn he wouldn’t. If Rob wasn’t going to beg, there was nothing Alboroto could do without losing face.
“Can you move your dick a little to the left?” Rob asked. “There’s a spot there…” He groaned and smiled as Alboroto’s dick shifted and another wave of pleasure hit him. In actuality, there was a lot of discomfort too, now that they had both cum. But Rob liked making things difficult for Alboroto — it brought out the machismo in him. Alboroto’s muscles tensed and flexed.
“Ain’t gonna pull out till you make me, bitch. Beg me for it,” Alboroto said. He spat on Rob’s face, but Rob just sucked it up. That made Alboroto gag, as did the sight of his dick in Rob’s hairy, frothy-cummed asshole. Could he just pull out? Embarrassing himself in front of some random gringo who wasn’t even from Riverside shouldn’t be a problem, he thought. But he still didn’t want to do it.
Rob grinned. It finally got uncomfortable enough he gave in. “Please, sir, take your dick out, so I can clean it off.”
“Alright,” Alboroto said, relieved to be done. He pulled his dick out, deliberately keeping his head up so he didn’t see it — he didn’t want to know how nasty his cock looked right now. He hadn’t thought to make his bitch clean his dick off, but that was a good idea.
Rob used kleenex to wipe the shaft off. He used most of an entire box, sopping up all the cum and the assjuice and the spit that still clung to it. Then he kissed Alboroto’s dick right on the shaft.
Alboroto shuddered as his knees buckled. His dick spasmed, reawakening all of the pleasure that had diminished since he finished plowing. His voice broke as he mumbled for Rob to quit playing with it. “Damn, gringo. You really like cock, huh?”
“I like your cock, baby,” Rob said. He leaned back on the bed, naked, until Alboroto barked at him to get dressed.
“We done now, gringo. Unless you got more cash I ain’t rob off you yet,” he said. He put his wifebeater back on.
Rob slowly put his clothes on while Alboroto grinned at him. Rob made a kissy face, and Alboroto looked away. “Hey, Alboroto,” Rob said. “I don’t have any more cash. But I’ll write you a check for a hundred dollars if you kiss me, with tongue. You don’t have any way of knowing if the check will clear. You’ll just have to trust me.”
“No way! Fuck no! I ain’t no kinda pansy,” Alboroto said. His blood boiled, but his anger came mainly from the fact that he knew he was going to say yes — a hundred bucks and all he had to do was spend a couple seconds pretending he was with a girl? He could do that. “Absolutely not, gringo. That is fuckin’ nasty.”
But then before Rob could say anything, Alboroto grabbed him in his arms and threw him back on the bed, where Rob felt the wet spots and smelled the cumstains they had just created. Alboroto’s muscular chest flexed beneath Rob’s grasp as Alboroto kissed him right on the lips.
His tongue plunged into Rob’s mouth and stayed there, completely still, not moving even when Rob’s tongue touched it. It was like Alboroto thought sticking his tongue in Rob’s mouth was okay, but moving it around made it feel too weird.
To Rob, Alboroto’s awkwardness made it even better. That was what he liked. It was, objectively speaking, the worst kiss ever. But Rob got to grope Alboroto’s strapping back and even his plump asscheeks beneath his jeans, before Alboroto finally pulled away.
He growled. “You best write that check, bitch. And if it don’t cash… I swear to God, I will track you down. Your address is on the check, y’know.”
“Oh right,” Rob said, making it sound like he had really forgotten that. The address on the check was in Florida, and if Alboroto did go there, he’d find just a UPS store. But Rob didn’t let on. The check would clear.
Alboroto beamed like he had just gotten away with something as Rob wrote out the check. He put machismo in the memo line. “I’ll leave that top line blank,” Rob said, “since you don’t want to tell me your real name.”
He nodded and swiped the check. “Now get out, bitch.”
Rob did as he was told. He was glad to be away from Alboroto safely, even if he was also going to miss that cock.

The Abilene Alpha

Lance is an accountant who just bought his first motorcycle, so he’s hanging out at a biker bar. That means when an alpha biker named Banner comes to him with an intriguing offer, Lance is ready to do what he wants.

So Lance is in for another exciting episode of Twink on Top!

Read it now as an ebook!

Or read the whole thing here!

Lance was unsure about Lipsweet before he walked in. It had a reputation as a rough joint. Someone was stabbed here a couple months ago, it was in all the papers. Walking into a biker bar — the toughest biker bar in Abilene, he had heard — sounded like a bad idea. When he was a young man, Lance would have done that in a heartbeat. Did do it, and a bunch of similar things. He waltzed into a legendary yakuza bar in Tokyo once. Walked right out when the pinkie-less man with the neck tats said gaijin weren’t allowed.
But middle age was looming nearer and nearer with every passing day for Lance. He was a married man. He still looked young enough, but he was seeing and feeling the signs of his age. There were strands of hair in his sink. He woke up at night to pee sometimes. Many times. All the time. He woke up to pee many times all the time. He started getting sleepy at like nine o’clock. He felt young right up until he realized he had been feeling like an old man for months.
That was why Lance was not interested in playing it safe anymore. The rough-and-tumble biker bar didn’t phase him. He bought a motorcycle on a whim and found that he loved it — once he actually figured out how to ride it. That was why he had come to Lipsweet, the most notorious biker bar in Abilene. The rumbling of the engine beneath his body made him feel young again; it reminded him of when he had first started going to raves, before he met Juliet — his wife — and this bar felt like the perfect place for him, like he had been constructed just for it.
At some point he stopped feeling that way dancing to electronic music, but he kept going. He wasn’t a drug user, which was part of what made him not really fit in at raves. He liked the music, and he liked the dancing, but he didn’t do ny of the increasingly diverse bouquet of drugs the others did. The people he came up with became burnouts and losers, scrounging up dollars for a hit of chemicals with street names like love and ecstasy and oneness. They’re named after the things they don’t provide.
So he bought a motorcycle, and he felt young all over again. It was hot and firm, rumbling, like an extension of his cock, an industrial, gasoline-gulping manhood that sprayed speed and smog in equal measures. He felt bigger and stronger as soon as he sat on that leather seat. Nobody knew he was a mere accountant.
Going to Lipsweet seemed natural when sitting on the bike. Everyone knew it was the biker bar — or one of the major biker bars in Abilene, which was a biker town. Lipsweet was controlled by the Jagged Right. Lance didn’t have any gang connections, but he bought the motorcycle at a Jagged Right-connected dealership. Or maybe that was just a marketing trick, but it worked, and anyway, the salesman had a Jagged Right tattoo.
He felt like a real biker as he actually walked in to Lipsweet, amid a sea of sweaty biceps and tattered black leather jackets, smell of engine oil and gun grease lingering in the air. As the rumble of the motorcycles doing circuits outside faded from his ears, Lance felt weak and insecure all over again, like an old man at a rave he wasn’t invited to.
It was a good thing he didn’t go to raves any more. He’d look like an out-of-place old fool. At least bikers aged without aging out.
“Chug it! Chug it!”
“Double whissshkey, straight up.”
After some initial awkwardness, Lance began to fit in. A few drinks helped, and he gulped them down quick enough to impress anyone watching and quick enough to get tipsy right away. He liked to drink, and that was all the bikers here seemed to care about. They ignored him at first, like they thought he was an undercover cop. But when he didn’t ask anyone for drugs, they gradually warmed up to him, and the alcohol helped loosen Lance up,
Soon enough he was a chatty Cathy with all the bikers, and he started to learn everyone’s name. They were really pretty nice and welcoming once you got to know them. He learned that that salesman he bought the motorcycle from was a real Jagged Right.
Lance was good at chugging, which helped him to fit in. He downed beers like he did it regularly, which he did, years ago. Juliet — Lance’s wife — would not allow him to chug beers now. She wouldn’t even want him drinking beers you could chug. She only bought fancy white wine and occasionally, for Lance, expensive German beer or “bitters” from England. You ever had bitters? It’s like beer but disgusting, truly revolting stuff. Juliet didn’t see any point in doing anything unless it was status-raising, that was the problem.
The blistering hard rock on the jukebox and the chatter filling the air meant a lot of them barely noticed him in the first place. He chugged beers alongside them, and they clapped him on the back. They fell over each other to offer help with his new bike.
But Lance was simply glad to be accepted. His bike was brand-new and didn’t really need anything right now, though he was certainly glad to have made about a dozen new mechanic-friends. Maintaining a motorcycle could get expensive.
“More beer for the new man!”
“Chug it! Chug it!”
He had no sooner finished chugging his latest beer when the bar was distracted by a fight. One leather-clad biker punched another, for reasons unclear to Lance — something to do with a girl, he suspected, which was always a good bet when bikers were fighting. Maybe disrespect, maybe something motorcycle-related. The others immediately chanted for more. Fight! Fight! Fight! Lance felt a twinge of desire at the sight of the two big guys fighting, hefty muscles shaking with each thrust of their fists.
He added his own chant to the melange of voices. “Fight! Fight! Fight!” But by the time his drunken self got into it, the fight was already over, and the two sloppy-drunk bikers were buying each other bourbons.
“Here, lemme buy you a shot,” said the one of the other bikers. His name was Banner — Lance had met him a few minutes ago — and he sported a powerful body and no belly at all, a fact that was obvious because he wore only a tattered wifebeater that had more holes than it had shirt. He was wearing a black leather jacket earlier, but he must have taken it off cuz this bar was like a furnace. Banner didn’t wait for Lance to accept the offer of a shot. The bartender was trying to break up the fight, so Banner reached behind the bar for a bottle of whiskey. He poured two shots (each of which were really doubles, and fat doubles at that). “Come on, let’s do a brüderschaft on this.”
Lance didn’t know what that meant — and the German unnerved him — but he followed along. Banner had Lance’s thin arm interlock with his softball-sized biceps, as though they were chorus line dancers facing in opposite directions. Lance felt another surge of sexual thrill at being so close to Banner’s tattooed biceps. The warmth of his body heat suffused into Lance’s flesh. Then Banner lifted his shot glass to Lance’s lips, and Lance did likewise. With their arms interlocked, they both swallowed each other’s shots, and Banner laughed as the harshness of the straight whiskey made Lance shudder and bug out. It tasted like gasoline.
When they were done, Lance took a deep breath. Tears welled in his eyes from the astringent whiskey, which was cheap — this bar didn’t stock anything fancy. He didn’t often take shots, especially doubles. Banner cleared his throat.
“So… you’re like… cool, right?” Banner had to speak loudly to be heard over the din of the crowd. The fight had died down, and the combatants were engaged in a drinking contest that attracted the attention of most of the bar’s patrons. Though Banner raised his voice, he aimed it directly for Lance, who felt the hot breath condensing on his cheek, and nobody but Lance could hear his words.
“Yeah…” Lance said. He was tantalizingly close to Banner’s heat-exuding muscles, and he couldn’t help but touch the rock-hard bulges of Banner’s biceps.
“Thought so,” he said, giving no notice to Lance’s hands feeling up his arms. “You, uh… wanna plow me?”
Lance just assumed that Banner meant ‘would you like me to plow you?’ So Lance said yes. He might have taken it as a joke, but Banner had a serious look on his tan, craggy face. It didn’t occur to Lance he might have heard the question correctly. The bar was loud, Lance’s mind was hazy with drunkenness, and a huge alpha biker like Banner would never let some accountant plow him up the ass.
Worried that Banner would back out, Lance tripped over himself to agree. He nodded like an overly enthusiastic otter.
Without another word, Banner smiled and put a finger to his lips, motioning for Lance to be discrete — he just motioned ‘down’, and somehow he and Lance were sympatic enough that Lance knew he meant keep it on the downlow.
As casually as he could muster, Lance followed Banner to the bathrooms in the back, pretending they were going to watch the drinking contest that remained the center of attention. Instead they slipped into the back of Lipsweet, and the roar of the drinking contest faded to a dull drone muffled by the wall.
Most of the bikers just pissed outside, so the bathroom was empty when they walked in. Bikers walked back and forth from the bar to the alley using this back corridor though, so they all saw Banner and Lance go into the men’s room. Banner locked the door behind them, stripped off his wifebeater and threw it on the filthy floor.
“Hey, Banner, whatchoo doin’ in there?”
“You know it!”
Banner wasn’t in the least embarrassed about this, it seemed. He opened the door again, stuck his head out and said, “Y’all said I’d never have the balls to do it, but I am gonna plow this sissy into next week! You gonna hear him begging for mercy back here, but don’t none of you try to stop me! You know what my dick’s like — once it gets moving, it’s an uncontrollable freight train!” Banner relocked the door amid the boisterous laughs of his friends.
“You really gonna plow that sissy? Wreck his ass!”
“Relax, man, he ain’t gonna take it in the ass. We know you was in prison too, don’t pretend you never plowed a bitch.”
“If you ain’t in prison, that’s nasty.”
“It ain’t nasty if you’s on top.”
“It ain’t nasty if yo’ balls don’t touch.”
“It ain’t nasty if you don’t make eye contact!”
Lance’s eyes bugged out, as his ears filled with the raspy-voiced boasting of the bikers. This was all happening so fast, it was dizzying.
“I ain’t hear ‘im beggin’ you to take it easy on him.”
“That’s cuz I’m goin’ slow, hoss, relax yo’ shit. You listenin’ at the door? You that turned on by a man gettin’ plowed you gotta jack off and listen?” Banner asked. He clicked his tongue against his teeth. “You the perverted one then, man. I ain’t touchin’ this man’s dick, and I ain’t gonna listen to his cries… unlike you, apparently.”
Lance was shocked and terrified. Was Banner threatening to ram him? Lance wanted to go through with this, but what if he took it too far? When Lance was younger, he would have loved the idea of being held down and used by the sterling manhoods of any number of bikers. Now he was a little more hesitant.
What would Juliet say?! That thought made Lance bite back a laugh of derision. Juliet wouldn’t go anywhere near a biker bar.
“Don’t worry, I’s just playin’ for the crowd,” Banner said softly. He looked suddenly bashful, and the muscles on his bare chest and belly rippled. He stroked one of Lance’s cheeks, then pulled him closer. “I… ain’t gonna treat you wrong.” He kissed Lance on the lips, and he rammed his tongue into Lance’s mouth.
Lance was so shocked to be kissed that he nearly fell over. He swooned into Banner’s powerful arms. His biceps were hard, inked, ropy like a statue of a man, lined with scars and imperfections that made him feel so very real and much more arousing than all those smooth-bodied, perfect-faced twinks that Lance had been messing with when Juliet was out of town. Banner felt like a motorcycle, brimming with power and uncontrollable heat, rough-edged and hard to manage. But his mere presence and the smell of his unkempt body made Lance hard. Banner’s words from earlier ricocheted within Lance’s head — ‘You wanna plow me?’ — now that they were outside of the roaring crowded bar, Lance knew he hadn’t misheard and that Banner hadn’t misspoken. He wanted to get plowed.
This biker was ready to bottom, and he wanted Lance on top.
“I want you inside me,” Banner said, whispering in that raspy baritone, though there was no chance anyone outside the bathroom would hear unless he yelled as he had before — the bathroom door was thick and muffled all the sounds from outside, except for those men yelling at the wall. His whispers were desperate and plaintive. “Please? Plow me in the ass. I want ya dick, man…”
“Really? You wanna bottom?” Lance asked. He still thought maybe he had misheard, maybe Banner was just testing him, though for what purpose Lance couldn’t imagine. He certainly didn’t want to try to make Banner bend over and take it unless he was sure that’s what Banner wanted.
Banner nodded. “I gotta put on a show for them out there though, I’m gonna make it sound like I’m ramroddin’ you, and you can’t ever tell anyone I’m bottomin’ for you. If you do, I’ll fuck you up for real,” he said, forming a fist with one hand and punching it hard into the palm of the other. His smile vanished, and his menace was so authentic it dripped off his face. Lance shuddered and nodded. He had no problem keeping it a secret.
“Ram ‘im, Banner! Make ‘im squeal like a piggie!”
“Oink, oink!”
“You seen Banner’s cock, right? He gonna mess that accountant up!”
Banner had to get on all fours and drop his jeans because he was so much taller than Lance — if they both stood, Lance’s face was in his torso and his dick in Banner’s thighs. Banner didn’t seem to mind touching the disgusting bathroom floor, which was grimy and stank of feet and homeless men.
The smell was intriguing, even desirable to Lance, who did appreciate the physiques of men, especially men like Banner. Alphas. Masculine, dominant men with pecs and neck tats, bullet-wound scars on their bellies. Banner smelled so funky it got Lance’s dick hard before they even got started.
Lance knelt down, lining his crotch up with Banner’s ass, and pulled his dick out. It was already throbbing hard, ready to go, and the slightest touch sent a twinge of pleasure up his body. He pushed his dicktip between Banner’s thick, hairy asscheeks, which spread open for him like the Red Sea. He sighed, a part of him worried still that Banner would call it off and start bashing him. His heart raced.
“Take it, bitch!” Banner called out. “You gonna take every inch whether you like it or not! I don’t let my bitches take just inches one through eleven, slut! You gonna take all twelve inches, got it? You don’t get to pick and choose which parts of my dick get up in ya!”
Lance forced out a pained cry, and men outside the bathroom laughed. Lance laughed too. They hooted and hollered; it sounded like a bunch of them were clustered near the door. Then Banner cried out for real, biting his lip to avoid making too much noise, that was because Lance’s cocktip finally entered his ass. Lance didn’t mean to stick it in so suddenly, he was just hovering the tip at Banner’s butthole when he let out that performative cry, and the motion made his dicktip slide in.
So Lance leaned into it, and he forced the whole shaft in — Banner took every inch, strongly suggesting this was not his first time. His ass was tight and warm, and instantly Lance had to bite back a howl of ecstasy. He didn’t want the men outside to know who was on top and who was in pain. He turned his cry of pleasure into a grunt of pain, while Banner’s face turned red and taut beneath him.
When he realized that Banner was stroking himself off and having trouble maintaining a rhythm as he submitted to Lance’s plowing back and forth, Lance reached around him, grabbed his cock and began stroking. Banner jerked and spasmed in a combination of pleasure and pain. The sound of him sucking on his clenched teeth seemed plausibly to come from Lance, so the men outside accepted that it was Banner on top.
“Hey, you doin’ some nasty-ass shit in there, Banner!”
“Wreck him! Wreck him! That accountant won’t be able to walk in a straight line ever again!”
“You gonna ramrod him hard enough he’ll forget his numbers!”
Slamming his cock in and out with all his might, Lance felt his orgasm coming only moments before it hit him. He moaned and grunted as he filled Banner with his seed. He gulped, wondering if it was obvious to the men outside that Lance’s moan was a top’s orgasm, not a bottom’s prostate climax. But they cheered as though assuming it was Banner filling Lance with his juice.
He shot so much it dripped out of Banner’s ass, onto that bathroom floor that was already coated with fluids of various kinds. The smell of funk in here was ripe and thick, and Lance inhaled deeply of it as the climax rolled through his body. A huge flood of jizz seeped into Banner’s body, and Banner let out an intense howl. The men outside must have accepted that it was a howl of pleasure — which it was, in a sense.
A whole series of grunts escaped from Banner’s lips, despite his best efforts to muzzle it. His dick spasmed in Lance’s fingers, signifying that his orgasm was imminent as well.
“Take it all, bitch! You gonna swallow every drop! I know my dick is covered in yo’ ass, but you know you love it! You want that filthy nasty in ya mouth, bitch, I can see it in yo’ slutty bitch eyes!”
“Aw, gross!”
“He really doin’ ass-to-mouth, Banner?”
“Ain’t nevuh got a girl to do that, not countin’ whores.”
“Make ‘im gag on his own ass, man!”
Then Lance dropped to his knees in the filthy bathroom, just in time to taste Banner’s dick. He had to stretch his neck to reach Banner’s crotch, opening his mouth wide. Banner’s dick was thick, pulsating, dripping precum so copiously it flowed down Lance’s throat.
Banner pounded on his chest and did a Tarzan yell, causing everyone in the main room to cheer him on. Banner’s tatted chest undulated as he orgasmed in Lance’s mouth, shooting jet after jet of cream to coat Lance’s gullet. He bucked as though the orgasm was painful, and he shot such a big, sour-tasting load that Lance didn’t need to pretend to gag. It hit the back of his throat, making Lance’s stomach gurgle and roil despite his love for hot cum in his mouth.
“Yeah, I can tell, that’s the sound of ass-to-mouth.”
“Bet that pervert is regrettin’ goin’ in there!”
“Banner can make any bitch regret touchin’ him.”
“I can make you regret insultin’ me, man!” Banner called out. “You know I can treat you like a prison bitch. You seen me do it before!” He paused and gasped as he shot another wad right down Lance’s throat. “I don’t even care whose hole I stick it in next — if this sissy ain’t available, I just might take you.” It sounded like Banner wanted to keep shouting through the door, but a wave of orgasmic energy rocketed through him then. His knees buckled and his body writhed. His voice trailed off as he sighed, draining his nuts into Lance’s waiting throat. He chuckled, hollered and banged his fists against the door like he was trying to knock it down.
Hot cum overflowed and dripped down Lance’s lips. He swallowed what was in his mouth, then licked up the rest. It had a wonderfully salty-sweet flavor that made him drool, wishing he could swallow even more — Banner’s load somehow tasted like a motorcycle, Lance thought, reminding him of the smell of gasoline and chrome and leather seats; it vibrated in his mouth like an engine. He traced the veins that ran along the side of Banner’s shaft as he jerked up every drop of cum he could find.
Much to his surprise, Banner knelt down and kissed Lance on the lips. His tongue penetrated Lance’s mouth, then licked up and down the breadth of Lance’s face. Lance was so shocked he just sat there, submitting to it, not even kissing him back, just focusing on the scratchy sensation of Banner’s scruffy chin rubbing against Lance’s skin. Banner let out a long, slow sigh of relief. He smeared the remaining cum over Lance’s cheeks, and smiled.
“Alright…” he said, breathlessly, pulling his pants up. His kind, impassioned face disappeared, replaced by that menacing visage he had briefly flashed before. He know looked more like the biker-thug Lance had expected to meet rather than the easygoing stud he had met earlier. This was the Banner that made Lance’s blood run cold. Banner narrowed his eyebrows and sneered at Lance. “I’m gonna tell them I left you in here covered in cum and crying, wit’ a bloody asshole. I told you to sit there covered in my nut for five minutes, then you could clean yourself off. Alright?”
“Okay.”
“You should come see me at my garage sometime,” he said. “I got a garage on East Street. Tell Sally at the desk that you’s a friend of mine, and she’ll tell me you’re there. I’ll help you with your bike, and you can plow me senseless.”
“… Okay.”
“My other mechanics are gonna want dome, and they’re gonna call you a pervert. That okay with you?”
“Yeah,” Lance said, too tired to pretend he needed to be talked into it. He loved the idea of jerking off an entire garage of dirty blue-collar mechanics.
Leaving his raggedy wifebeater on the piss-covered floor, Banner walked out to the cheers of his friends, who clasped him on his sweaty back. He flexed his biceps and closed the door right behind him, so no one saw Lance, who stayed in a corner — he thought for sure if they saw his face they’d realize he hadn’t been plowed at all. A few men tried to poke their head in but Banner stopped them with a shut door. The last thing he said was, “Lock the door behind me. Five minutes. Pretend ya ass hurts.”
“Okay,” Lance said, glad to have a few minutes to collect his thoughts. Thinking of how to pretend his ass hurt made him realize that Banner clearly was not in pain — he must have been plowed before, probably quite often considering how easily he had take it. He sighed as he began counting down his five minutes to wait.
He was sure happy he had taken a risk, he thought, and he wished he had become a biker a long time ago. He couldn’t wait to check out Banner’s mechanic shop.