Math (Lyle) Jackson – Mansploitation

The Biker Bottoms

Avery filed a noise complaint about some bikers, so they come over to tell him off… or maybe they have something else in mind. That means Avery just might get seven minutes in heaven with a studly biker who’s got no choice but to bend over and take what Avery dishes out!

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

When one of the bikers walked towards the campsite late in the afternoon, Avery felt a surge of dread. His friends pushed him to meet the biker, a burly middle-aged type with a beer belly and long, scraggly hair tinged with silver.
You see, last night, the bikers in the next campground over had been so loud that no one in Avery’s campsite could sleep. Avery and his buddies had been talking about going camping together for a long time. It was Avery’s first spring-break that wasn’t drunken and debauched — he felt so mature. They were disappointed to have the trip ruined by a bunch of biker jerks.
So Avery had gone over there and told them to shut up. They laughed at him and threw empty cans of beer, cheered on by one dark-haired biker who wore a thick leather jacket. That man had been an utter drunken jerk. Avery didn’t get mad though — he knew exactly how to proceed. He filed a complaint with the park rangers, and he told them about the littering.
Rangers didn’t care too much about noise, but they cared about littering empty cans of beer. The bikers quieted down after a visit from the rangers late in the night. Avery had been treated like a conquering hero by his fellow college students.
The bikers slept late this morning, then went off hunting or drinking or whatever they did during the day, Avery had no idea (riding bikes presumably, though he hadn’t heard their engines revving). It was now nearly five pm when the older biker approached.
He brought along with him a younger biker, one who attracted Avery’s interest. He was a big burly bear of a man in his early thirties, with thick dark hair and a scraggly beard. He had broad shoulders and a colorful dragon tattoo covering his chest, which was mostly bare, and a snake on his neck. He had a square jaw, and he chewed on his upper lip as the older biker introduced himself. Was this the man who had teased him last night? Quite possibly, but it was hard to be sure; he was in the dark last night, wearing bulky clothes.
“My name Math,” said the older biker, the Southern drawl so thick in his voice that Avery could cut it with a knife. “This here my brother-in-law, Python.”
“Math, Python, nice to meet you,” Avery said. “I’m Avery.”
Math smiled in his avuncular way, but Python just grunted an acknowledgement. He looked at Avery like he was a stack of displeasing medical test results. He straightened the flaps of the leather vest that was all he wore above the waist. His hairy, roughly tattooed chest rested, bare and broad, in the shadows of his vest.
“Be nice, Python,” Math said. When Python didn’t respond, Math slapped him in the back of the head. “Say hello. Use your words, numbskull.”
Python glared at his brother-in-law, and then at Avery. “Hello, Avery.” He spoke with an angry sneer. “You ain’t needta call the fucking rangers on us! You goddamn snitch, you come to us like a man, if you got a problem-“
“Python!”
He bit his lip and looked down at his heavy-booted feet. He shifted some dirt around with one boot. “I’m sorry you had a bout of extreme pansiness, which I see was actually a permanent condition-“
“Python!”
“It is, man, look at him! I ain’t gonna apologize to a lavender lollipop! No offense, sissy,” Python said. He refused to make eye contact with Avery, who snickered at the phrase ‘lavender lollipop’. That was a pretty good burn for a biker.
“Don’t make it seem like you’s too good for that,” Math said. He whispered in Python’s ear, and Python blanched. He looked at Avery then with wide eyes. He gripped Python’s greasy hair and pulled, just hard enough to make Python grunt and flail, though he didn’t try to fight back. Math turned to Avery. “I apologize on his behalf. He gonna play a game wit’ you now. That’ll be his way of sayin’ sorry, since he’s too proud to say it hisself. Come on wit’ us.”
Avery followed, even as his mind screamed not to. He didn’t trust these two bikers. Avery’s friends made plaintive faces as he left — they clearly agreed with Avery’s mind that he shouldn’t go. But Avery went because he was interested and because Python had an amazing body, full of hair and engine grease and scars and tattoos. He wanted to watch the rippling flesh of his back as he walked in front of Avery in pain, with his brother-in-law pulling his hair, dragging him like a caveman back to the bikers’s campground.
As they walked, Math looked behind himself and smiled at Avery. “Don’t worry about Python. He ain’t gonna hurt ya. He’s been clipped. He got two strikes against him. He can’t get in any trouble with the law. That’s why he shut down last night when them rangers came a-callin’.”
“Oh, okay.” That was not entirely reassuring to Avery.
Python’s deep voice rang out. “You ain’t needta tell the rangers-“
“Shut up, you done said that,” Math snapped at him. He threw him into an open tent on the edges of the bikers’s campground. The other bikers looked at Math with quizzical expressions. Math looked to Avery and gestured for him to enter the tent. “Python jerked me off, and he took it in the ass from me.”
Python roared and cursed from inside the tent. “Fuck you, old man! I oughta rip yer dick off-“
Math just smiled. “He did it. Everyone here did it. That’s our initiation. Some gangs do ‘blood-in, blood-out’, but that’s legally risky and there ain’t always someone available who needs killin’. We do ‘cum-in, cum-out’. Well, not ‘out’ cuz no one ever leaves.”
“Really? You guys cornhole… as like, a hazing thing?”
Math nodded. “So I gave Python a choice between saying sorry to you — sorry in a polite, respectful way — or playin’ a little game wit’ you. He chose the game,” Math said. “Seven Minutes in Heaven. You know what that is?” When Avery didn’t respond right away, out of shock, Math explained. “It means you get seven minutes in that tent with Python. He’ll do anything you want in there for seven minutes. You can cornhole the pride right outta his ass, if that’s what you want.”
“Really?!”
Python called out from inside the tent. “Fuck you, old man!”
“So whatchoo think, Avery?”
“Uh… Fuck! Okay,” Avery said.
“You’ll forgive us for makin’ noise last night?”
“Hell yeah!” Avery said. The other bikers laughed at his enthusiasm, which made Avery blush. He crawled into the tent as the other bikers crowded around cheering. It sounded like they rather disliked Python, who had been the loudest one last night — he had been the one who teased Avery and got the others involved. They had all been too drunk to care about being loud (Math must have already been asleep), but it was Python who had gotten mad, and, it seemed, stayed mad.
Avery quickly stripped off his own clothes. Python still wore his pants and leather vest. When Avery started to take the vest off him, he didn’t cooperate. His arms remained at his sides, and Avery struggled to get the vest off. Then he kissed Python on his back, which had just a slight covering of peach fuzz above an iron cross tattooed on the meat of his shoulder.
“Make ‘im moan, Avery!”
When his fingers began caressing Python’s muscles, Python twitched as though it hurt. He hung his head. Avery would have enjoyed giving him a massage, but he only had seven minutes and he wanted to use his time effectively.
So Avery stood as best he could in the tent. He wasn’t tall, so he only had to stoop a little bit. His fat pale dick was already rock-hard. He took Python’s callused hand — with the words FUCK and COPS tattooed on his knuckles — and wrapped it around Avery’s dick. Python shuddered, looked away and began stroking.
Avery flopped his dick against Python’s face, and he jerked and twitched. For a moment, Avery thought Python would attack him. But he held back, just flailing for a moment as though Avery’s dick was painful.
“You fightin’ back in there, Python? You know you can still apologize. You could be a man and own up to yer mistakes.”
But it seemed Python would rather do anything than apologize. Instead he cracked his mouth open. His square jaw trembled like he had to force his muscles to do it. His handsome face was tense, turning red and beading up with sweat.
“Oh, that won’t do. You’ll have to open wider than that,” Avery said, loud enough that the bikers outside could hear. They laughed and Avery forced Python’s jaw to separate — it wasn’t much “force”, of course, since Avery was about a third of Python’s size, and Python was already as agape as he could be. Avery just wanted to embarrass him by saying out loud that Python should open wider.
Then Avery pushed the tip of his dick into Python’s mouth. Python loudly choked and gagged, which again made the bikers outside the tent chortle. Someone banged on the side of the tent, the surprise of which triggered the burst of pleasure that coursed through Avery’s body. Python’s warm mouth lapped at his erection, and every time Python gagged, it sent a new wave of sensations up Avery’s spine.
“There it goes, I reco’nize that sound, fo’ sho’!”
“He gaggin’ on it!”
“Make him swaller ya cum, boy!”
The man’s throat was moist and tight, the hairy grizzle on the sides of his chin scratching at Avery’s smooth thighs as he humped his dick in. The positioning was very awkward given the size disparity and the short ceiling of the tent. Python had to really work at it to get his head low enough to get his mouth on Avery’s meat, while Avery had to stay stooped over.
Avery was already hard even before they started, but it didn’t take long before his dick throbbed in Python’s throat, precum leaking down his gullet. Python kept one tattooed forearm over his belly as though forcing his body not to reject the cock in his mouth.
“Move your tongue around some more,” Avery said, giggling nervously.
Python gurgled angrily but did as he was told. He slathered spit on Avery’s cock, sending waves of pleasure through Avery’s body. Avery was so aroused his knees went weak, and he clutched Python’s head for support, while Python’s muscles all tensed and rippled through him holding back violent gags.
“Sounds like you got a good start in there, Avery. Let me know when I should start timing this!” Math called out with a cackling laugh, slapping one hand on the tent to make it rattle and flap.
Python made a loud retching sound as Avery and the others all laughed. Avery kept his dick in Python’s mouth until Python forced him away. Python coughed and spat pubic hairs on the floor of the tent.
“Damn it, Math! You ain’t been timin’?”
“Nah, I ain’t know you started yet. I-“
“You s’posed to start as soon as he gets in the tent!”
“That ain’t how it works, son. You tell me when you’s ready.”
“I’m fuckin’ ready!”
“Alright, I’ll start countin’ when the second hand reaches the twelve. Go fo’ it, Avery.”
“You ain’t gotta worry about the time then, Avery, cuz Python don’t know how to tell time on one of them circle-clocks.”
The bikers all laughed as though this was an inside joke. Python blushed.
“Get on your knees,” Avery said. He called out to the bikers. “You guys got any lube?”
A bunch of them cackled and volunteered their own supply. As Python sighed and got on all fours, they ran back to their tents and bikes. By the time Avery had worked those leather pants down to Python’s ankles, baring his big hairy ass and a thick cock, someone had unzipped the door to the tent just far enough to throw a tube of lube in. That was followed by about a dozen more half-full tubes.
“That enough?” Somebody called out from outside the rent.
“That’ll get us started,” Avery said. They all laughed again, banging on the side of the tent, which once more made the walls shake like an earthquake.
Python was on all fours, which was a less convenient position than it normally would be because Python was so much bigger than Avery. His ass lined up with Avery’s bellybutton, not his crotch. His asscheeks were much wider than Avery’s entire body, but they were plump, juicy cheeks, not at all flabby or fat. Avery’s hands spread Python’s buttcheeks to each side, baring his tight hole.
Slapping Python’s ass and marveling at its jiggling, Avery made a lot of noise for the benefit of the bikers outside the tent. Python blushed a bright red.
“Lower your hips some,” Avery said after wedging his dick between those hairy, sweaty asscheeks. Python grumbled but did as he was told. He lowered his ass until he was lined up with Avery’s crotch.
They both grunted when the tip of Avery’s dick pushed into Python’s guts. Avery’s grunt was a feminine lilting exhalation, while Python let out a loud oomph that made his biker-buddies chant and clap. Python gasped and clenched down hard. Avery was unable to get any more of his dick in.
“He ain’t lettin’ me in, Math! He’s squeezing me out!” Avery called out. Python shook his head as though Avery was snitching on him to the rangers again.
“Python!”
“Shut up, Math! I’m tryin’! He ain’t got a small dick, man…” Python barked, but he did loosen his ass a bit. “Y’know, if I told Lisa what you made me do, she’d be furious. She’d tell me to tell you to fuck off-“
Someone tossed a cell phone into the tent. It landed on the ground near Python’s face.
“Call her anytime you want.”
“I ain’t gotta do this!” Python yelled. He hung his head as he grunted, hyperventilating to relax his ass. It was not entirely effective, but Avery enjoyed forcing himself into that tight hole.
“No, you ain’t gotta! You could say you sorry. You could decide to stop actin’ like a piece of shit!”
“Nuh-uh, Math, that’s genetic. His daddy was a piece of shit, making Python half-shit himself.”
“He’s proud of his shit heritage.”
“If he ever has some kids, Math, your grandbabies is gonna be one-quarter shits.”
Math murmured something disapproving — Python’s sister was Math’s wife, so Python’s daddy was Math’s father-in-law. But Avery couldn’t hear what he said.
“Don’t you motherfuckers talk about my daddy!” Python roared.
“Do somethin’ ’bout it! Oh wait, you can’t cuz there’s a dick in yer ass.”
But Python just submitted, even as he roared in rage. He lowered his face to the ground, sticking his ass in the air. His cheeks and chest were bright red, and Avery noticed that his dick was hard. Avery reached around to his crotch and stroked it. Python jerked and spasmed like it hurt, but he angled his body to give Avery easier access.
“Fight me then, Python! Come on out here and throw down!”
From the attitude of the other bikers, Avery gathered that they all thought Python was a pussy at heart. They kept challenging him to fights as though they knew he’d never do it.
His broad back was dappled with sweat, muscles rippling beneath his thick flesh. Avery caressed his skin and licked that sweat off where he could reach, which, given Python’s bent-over position, was only about halfway up his back.
As he plowed harder and harder, Avery moved his body further up Python’s frame. Soon Avery had to angle his dick downward, jabbing it in as Python grunted and groaned in pain, and pleasure.
“Ah, shit, damn…”
Then Python’s knees buckled. Avery could feel the pleasure rolling through his body, and Avery knew that Python would never admit that was why he couldn’t support himself any more — the pleasure was too intense.
Python sunk slowly to the ground. He muttered at Math, but it was too quiet for even Avery to hear, much less anyone outside of the tent. Python splayed on the ground of the tent, fingers and toes curling as Avery inexorably humped.
One of his hands remained on Python’s cock, but since Python was on his belly on the ground, it wasn’t easy to stroke him. His dick throbbed in Avery’s fingers anyway, while Avery’s other hand explored Python’s thick-bodied chest and belly. Python winced as he did, like he was ticklish and trying to hide it.
“Hey,” Python whispered as the air filled the sound of revving engines — the bikers were riding in circles around the tent now. Python blushed, and Avery leaned forward as far as he could. Python bit his lip and whispered, “Uh… Don’t tell them motherfuckers I got hard… okay? Tell ’em I couldn’t get hard. You cornholed me, whatever, just don’t tell ’em I got hard wit’ a dick in my ass. I’d never live it down.”
A part of Avery wanted to be mean and vicious, and tell them right now. But of course he couldn’t really, because of the loud engines, and he wasn’t that cruel. Python was submitting gamely, that was enough for Avery. He nodded as Python settled on his side, giving Avery enough space to keep giving him a reacharound.
The zipper flap in the front of the tent was forced lower from outside again, and a long fat cock dangled into the tent. It was thick and tattooed with a smoking bong on the shaft. Outside someone — not Math, a different voice — guffawed.
“You want a taste of that one too, Python?”
“Make him swallow it, Avery, you still got him for three minutes-“
“Now hold up there, that ain’t how this game works. He ain’t a slave.”
“Ah, Math, come on-“
“Nah. You ain’t gotta taste no jizz dick, Python. Unless’n you want to.”
Python roared. He reached up and swatted the dick away, hitting it hard enough that the biker outside roared in pain and withdrew the cock.
“Where his dick at now, Python? Inside ya?”
“Show us on the doll where his dick is at?”
“Shut up, man!” Python screamed. His voice was thready and stilted, as he gasped from both pain and pleasure.
“Answer it,” Avery said with a grin. Python clenched in embarrassment, bit his lip and roared as his friends laughed and cheered him on. Avery shuddered as Python’s ass squeezed his dick, which throbbed, rubbing in and out.
“Where’s his dick at, Python?”
“His dick is… in my ass!” Python yelled. His face was bright red now, his muscles spasming beneath Avery’s touch while Avery’s other hand brought his cock to orgasm.
“Nah, come on, be more specific. Where’s his dick at, Python? You know the anatomy of yer asshole? You got the sphincter — that’s the opening itself, the actual hole — then the anus. That’s the first inch or two. After that, it’s called yer rectum. Is he in yer rectum?”
“Has he hit the prostate yet?”
“Shut the fuck up!” Python screamed out of the tent, so angry now his face was a bright red and he spat on the ground. His voice was hoarse and clipped. His vitriol was interrupted by a climax, which was so sudden it surprised Avery.
Python’s massive body tightened all at once, clenching down on Avery’s dick again. Cum sprayed over Python’s chest and belly, so much it dripped and matted his chest hair to his skin. Python gasped, biting down on the floor of the tent to muffle the sound of his moan.
Avery smiled. He gripped the sides of Python’s belly, rolling him over onto his belly. Python grunted and groaned but didn’t resist, even as his face and chest splashed into the puddle of his own cum that collected there. He gagged, causing a rolling undulation of his muscles beneath Avery’s grip, culminating in his asshole squeezing so tight around Avery’s cock it was like he didn’t want to let Avery go.
But Avery was relentless. He was a good bottom himself, and he knew well how to make sure Python’s body accepted his drilling. Avery pounded his dick as hard as he could, making Python grunt with each thrust of his hips. His balls made a loud slapping sound where they hit Python’s skin.
“You got one minute left, Avery. That enough time? I could give you a timeout if you need it…”
“That’ll do, Math, thanks!” Avery called out. He could already feel his orgasm coming on him.
Speeding up his humping, Avery violently plundered Python’s ass. Python moaned, trying to make it sound like a moan of agony. Python lifted his feet off the ground as he submitted to Avery’s cock.
The most intense orgasm of his life shot through Avery’s body. He squealed like a piggie, which made the bikers laugh as Avery knew it would. He sprayed cum inside Python’s ass, giggling while Python harrumphed like he had no idea that was going to happen. Pleasure shot up and down Avery’s spine, and he threw his head back, digging his nails into Python’s back.
At last it was over. Avery took a deep breath and sighed. He kept his dick in Python’s ass, squirming and making sure it touched every corner of his guts. Python clenched down with his feet and hands, tearing at the floor of the tent as though trying to dig into the dirt.
“Ten, nine, eight, seven!”
Avery wiped up all the cum he could find on Python’s chest. He rubbed his hand all over Python’s face, leaving a slick of cum there. His brownish skin and scarred body gleamed with the layer of semen coating his flesh. He gagged at the scent, and Avery inserted one of his own cum-streaked fingers into Python’s mouth.
“Six, five, four!”
“Aren’t you done?”
“I still got a few seconds,” Avery giggled. He wiggled his dick in Python’s ass, sending shockwaves of pain and post-orgasmic pleasure up Python’s spine.
“Three! Two! One!”
As soon as they reached one, they unzipped the tent and ripped the flap open. Everyone jeered at the sight of Avery’s tiny, smooth body on top of Python’s hairy back. Python crawled towards the door.
Avery really hadn’t intended to remain attached to Python’s ass even after the seven minutes were up, but it all happened so fast. He held on for support as Python climbed out of the tent, stark naked, pushing past his leather-clad biker buddies.
It was only when Python was out and standing up near the tent that Avery let himself slide off Python’s back. His dick plopped out of Python’s ass, making Python sigh in relief. He still blushed though as his friends laughed at him, and someone kept handing him a battered old teddy bear, telling him to point to the spot on the doll where Avery touched him.
Python just stalked away, screaming invective at his friends, promising to tell his sister about it, though it wasn’t clear what good that would do. He headed towards the showering facility on the other side of the campsite. He didn’t seem to care that he was naked, cock swinging in the breeze; the cum drying on his face wasn’t so obvious, since his entire body glistened with sweat. Avery, meanwhile, got dressed.
The bikers didn’t follow Python. Math urged them not to. “You gotta give him a chance to regain his pride, folks. Just leave him alone for a bit.”
“What’d you think?” asked another biker — the one who had put his dick in the tent, Avery guessed based on the voice.
“That was… nice,” Avery said, blushing. “You guys can make noise anytime you want, if that’s how you say sorry.”
“You really enjoyed that, huh?”
“It was definitely seven minutes in heaven…” Avery said with a grin.

The Bouncer

Rob is eager to service the bouncer at the biker bar, and he just might have his chance! He hangs out in the alley by the dumpster where the legendary bouncer Banner drops off the scumbags he kicks out of the Clever Pipe, and when Rob makes him an offer too good to pass out, Banner is all too happy to treat Rob exactly the way he wants it!

Can Rob handle the punishment he’s begging for?!

Read it now as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Rob Winthrop headed down the alley behind the club. He smoked a cigarette to make it look like he was waiting for someone to leave out the back. Every few minutes some drunkard did leave out the back, but Rob ignored everyone. He wasn’t here for any of them.
He was here for the bouncer out front.
He had a plan to get him too, but he needed to wait for him to come into the alley. The bouncer was named Banner. He was square-jawed and rugged, with a dense network of scars on his fingers. He said that was from getting angry and punching his fist through glass windows on several occasions. He was a bouncer at the Clever Pipe, a tough bar on the outskirts of town.
Finally the back door flew open, and a drunk man was shoved out of it. Banner followed him, pushing him every few feet and barking out challenges and questions. “Get out. Come at me, brah. Come at me then. You wanna fight? You wanna show off fo’ ya girl? Here’s ya chance, come at me. Lemme see it.” Banner had a handsome face with a noble jaw and a crooked nose, with a flatness to his voice like he had a phonograph in his throat. Even when he spat invective at the drunk man he was kicking out, he didn’t really sound like he meant it. He sounded like a bad actor reading his lines for the first time. He had thick boots like a factory worker. Already tonight a few drops of blood blotted the black leather of his boots. Rob didn’t know if it was Banner’s, the drunk man’s or someone else’s.
Banner pushed the drunk man until he tottered in a garbagey puddle near the dumpster. Then he cackled and kicked the man in the side. The man yelped and squirmed. He tried to crawl away.
A drunk girl came out the back, sloshing through the doorway like a spilled cosmo. She tried to push Banner into the wall — which was ridiculous, because Banner was like a mountain compared to her drunk, wavering twig of a body — but he just moved out of the way. She smacked into the brick wall then stumbled to her boyfriend.
“You fucking pussy!” she said. She sounded so drunk she was about to pass out.
“You’re a slut!” the drunk man bellowed from the ground.
Banner watched with a sneer. The two drunkards argued there in the garbage. Banner lit a cigarette. He flexed his biceps, which were visible beneath the white wifebeater he wore — it looked like it had been brand new at the start of his shift, but now had sweat stains around the shoulders, spilled beer soaked into it and a few drops of dried blood over his heart..
He saw Rob there and nodded. Banner licked his teeth. “I’s the bouncer.” He paused like he was waiting for an order.
Rob came forward. “It’s a dirty job but somebody’s gotta do it.”
The drunk couple headed out of the alley, staggering forward as they shouted at each other. Banner took a deep drag on his cigarette. “You waitin’ for somebody?”
Rob nodded. “But I don’t think they’re coming. They might have gone home with somebody else.”
Banner nodded. Rob made sure to accentuate his feminine side to put Banner at ease. Banner bristled and wrinkled his nose. “Uh-huh.”
“You’re Banner, right? I’m Rob.” They had actually “met”, or at least interacted briefly, last weekend; but Banner didn’t remember that.
Banner grunted and threw his eyebrows back. He wasn’t used to being polite to bargoers. Being a bouncer at a club like this was one of the few professions where being mean to the customers was expected. Banner was not graded on customer service, which was good because most everyone found him chilling. He put a damper on the club every time he worked. He had that grim-eyed stare that made the waitresses trade shifts to get away from him.
But the owner, Math, liked that he kicked ass. Banner never lost a fight. At a bar like the Clever Pipe, that was a frequently useful skill, and it was more important than the comfort of the waitresses.
“I’ll give you fifty bucks to take your shirt off and put me in a headlock,” Rob said. As soon as he said it, he squealed and blushed. He handed Banner the money before Banner even responded.
He took the fifty dollar bill. He stared at it, then sighed and chuckled. He took off his wifebeater. He grimaced at the sight of Rob’s leering eyes. His pecs flexed — not in a deliberate, seductive way, but like he was imagining punching Rob and his muscles were dreaming about it.
But then he put Rob in a headlock. He wrapped his right arm around Rob’s neck, holding him tightly. Rob was squashed between his arm and his chest. His other arm pulled Rob’s body close to Banner’s, whose bare muscles writhed like a barrel of snakes against Rob’s skin.
Sweat dripped onto Rob’s lips and coated his face. The scent of Banner’s unwashed machismo was alluring, and Rob groaned. He smelled cheap deodorant too, but it had already been overpowered by Banner’s sweaty night in the overcrowded nightclub.
“Do you ever make guys jack you off?”
“What?”
“I’ve heard some bouncers sometimes take drunk guys they kick out, and y’know… make ‘em jack them off,” Rob said.
“No.”
“Would you? I mean, if I paid you?” Rob struggled to speak through the headlock. He planted his lips on Banner’s rock-hard bicep and kissed loudly.
Banner groaned and looked away. He gamely kept Rob in the headlock, though he could have dropped him. He blushed. “What, man? You wanna pay me to make some dude jack me off?”
“No, me. I want to pay you to make me jerk you off.”
“No way. I don’t-“
“A thousand dollars.”
A long, empty silence filled the alley. Banner held his cigarette in his hand. He narrowed his eyebrows to slits.
“You gonna pay me a grand to jack me off?”
“No. I’m gonna pay you a grand for you to make me jack you off,” Rob said. He writhed in the headlock, and rubbed his ass against Banner’s crotch. “I’ll pay you another grand to cornhole me in the ass.”
“Nope. No way. I don’t do that.” Banner said. He sighed. He pushed Rob away from him. His serious face screwed up like he was sucking on a lemon. “I won’t do that. No way.” He took another drag on his cigarette. “Three grand. Three grand, man. No. Nevermind. I can’t.”
“Oh-“
“Okay, yeah. Three grand. I can do it. Thirty five hundred. I’ll do it for thirty five hundred,” he said. He sighed and leaned over the railing. His big plump ass stood up. It was cradled by tight basketball shorts beneath his scruffy jeans. The top of his asscrack was just barely visible. Sweat collected there. “No, I mean… Yeah. I can do it. Four grand. I want four grand.”
“I better get started before the price keeps going up,” Rob said. He dropped to his knees and in one smooth motion planted his tongue in that spot of asscrack visible above Banner’s sagging jeans.
“Ah shit, man,” Banner squirmed. He looked behind himself at Rob licking his asscrack. “You ain’t say nothin’ ‘bout licking my ass. You ain’t say nothin’ ‘bout that.”
“If I’m paying four grand, I’m lickin’ your ass. Don’t get cheap now,” Rob said. “I promise I won’t put anything in there, not even a finger. Okay, my tongue. I’ll put my tongue in there.”
His eyes narrowed to slits. He turned back around and grabbed Rob by the chin. “Boy… if you even think about putting a finger in my ass, I will kill you. You understand me? I will not try to hide the evidence. I will go to prison with my head held high, bitch. You dig me?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Don’t call me sir.”
“Okay, uh, Banner.”
He snorted and laughed nervously. He paused and smoked his cigarette. He blew smoke into Rob’s face. Rob coughed.
“You imaginin’ ya finger in my ass?”
“No, Banner. I promise. I swear. I don’t do that,” Rob said.
“Ya dick?”
“No. I only ever bottom,” Rob said. His heart skipped a beat. Like most bouncers, Banner was very good at intimidating people. He stared Rob down, then spat on his face. “I just want to suck your asshole, that’s all.”
“Fuckin’ freak.”
Banner undid the belt of his jeans and pulled down his shorts to reveal a pale, trembling pair of beautifully plump asscheeks. There was a big nasty twisted scar on one cheek. He only pulled down his pants on his backside, taking care to make sure he didn’t bare his cock and balls.
Rob separated those cheeks and inhaled deeply of the scent. The sound of him sniffing made Banner chuckle, his whole body shaking. Rob leaned his head in and slipped his tongue into Banner’s tight hole.
“What’s this scar?” Rob asked as he kissed all up and down the crack of Banner’s ass.
“I got shot,” Banner said. His voice was pinched, as though it hurt to have his asshole licked. He squirmed and groaned. His hole clenched around Rob’s tongue.
Rob tickled the gunshot-wound scar on his ass. One of his hands roamed between Banner’s legs, massaging the taint there. He suckled loudly and moistly on Banner’s asshole. He slurped out all the stank, salty sweat he could get to.
“Who shot you?”
“This guy. There was a disagreement,” Banner said. ‘Bout who owned this girl.”
Rob giggled into Banner’s ass. “I hope you were on the side of ‘nobody owned her’.”
Banner bristled and bit his lip. He didn’t answer at first. Then he murmured, “I ain’t a rapist or a pimp or nothin’.”
“Uh-huh-“
“Ah, damn!” Banner laughed. “I gots an idea.” He clapped his hands and fished his phone out of his pants pocket. That turned out to be difficult to do in this position, so he wordlessly pushed Rob onto the cold, moist ground on his back. Banner lowered his ass, squatting over Rob’s face. That was perfect for Rob, because it forcibly separated Banner’s cheeks, giving him perfect access to his hole. It was easier for Banner to get into his own pants pocket this way.
Rob flickered his tongue all the way in to Banner’s hole, far enough in that Banner shuddered and groaned. He nearly dropped his cell phone as he dialed. Finally he got it to ring and held it to his ear.
“Yo, nigga. Guess what? Remember that thing you said only niggas can ever talk someone into? I got this bitch lickin’ at my hole right now-” Banner paused and groaned. “Nigga nigga nigga, I say it when I want, man. I ain’t even have to talk this bitch into it. Uh-huh. Got that tongue all up in my guts right now, cleanin’ me out, uh-huh. Gonna rub it like a dog now.” He moved his ass back and forth, squeezing over Rob’s tongue. “Yeah, it’s real nasty.” He paused. “Alright, yeah. I meet you tomorrow at noon. Get up early then, and don’t try and pass off schwag, I will kick yo’ ass again. Bullshit. I beat yo’ ass like a cop behind bars, nigga. I destroyed you. I’m just sayin’ it to piss you off now. That’s my right. That’s my First Amendment right as an American.” He paused and grunted. “Hell yeah. But I am takin’ her ass, man — no! No! You can’t call it like that, that ain’t fair. I fuck her in the ass. Yeah, you take the pussy. If our balls touch, I will punch you. If our balls touch, it will be yo’ fault, I guarantee that.” He squirmed atop Rob’s tongue. “God damn, man, you ain’t say ya tongue gonna feel like that. Okay, nigga. Nigga please. Nigga you don’t even- Uh-huh, my nigga. You my nigga, dawg. I swear-” He put the phone down. He snorted. “Hung up. Fuckin’ asshole.” He stood up and grabbed Rob by the neck. “You ready to swallow some dick, deadbeat?”
“Yeah,” Rob said. The only sound he could make right now was a weak squeak.
Banner spat on his face. He laughed and clapped his hands. “Alright, goddamn. This is kinda fun.” He pushed Rob onto his knees. He had a massive cock, already half-hard and throbbing in his hands. He pried Rob’s mouth apart and fed it in. He shuddered, then smiled. “My dad was a bouncer — I only met him a few times in person, he been in jail since I was little — and he always say this is what it used to be like. Police used to be on ya side, you know? If some deadbeat raised a fuckin’ stink, you could raise a fuckin’ stink on his face, dig?” He sighed as he slammed his dick all the way into Rob’s throat.
Rob struggled to accept it all. He gagged violently. His hands tightened into claws that grabbed at Banner’s plump asscheeks, which were still wet from Rob’s licking.
“Man… My dad used to come home late, and he’d drink with my uncle Tony — he lived wit’ us then — and he’d tell Tony about the shit he did to the boys who raised too much hell in his bar. I ain’t understand half of what he said,” Banner said. “Like usin’ a bum as an ashtray.” He made sure Rob’s eyes were open wide, then ground his cigarette out on Rob’s forehead.
The scorching pain on his flesh made Rob squirm. His mouth struggled to avoid biting down, but he didn’t have any leverage anyway, so he probably couldn’t have bit if he wanted to. All he could do was hock up a ball of saliva that dripped down Banner’s shaft.
“Alright, deadbeat,” Banner said. He sounded absent-minded, like he was acting out something he recalled his father saying. “Now here comes the big finale. I’m gonna turn your ass into my woman, a woman I don’t think much of. It’s gonna hurt, and you gonna cry, but eventually it’ll be over. Then you be a flappy-butted loser.” He bent Rob over the railing near the landing by the back door to the club.
Without a moment’s hesitation, Banner had his cock in Rob’s ass — he just jammed it in as though the more he thought about it, the more he might be unable to perform. He sighed once the first inch or so was in. Rob squealed and gasped.
“That hurt? It should. You want something to bite on?” Banner said. He put his corded-muscle forearm in front of Rob’s mouth. “You can bite my arm, bitch. I won’t be mad.”
Rob didn’t want to bite, though the pressure in his ass was intense. He kissed. He sucked on the firm muscle of Banner’s forearm, nibbling a bit only when the sensations in his ass became too incredible to avoid.
“Say ‘I’m a bitch’.”
“I’m a bitch!”
“Say it louder. Be proud of ya bitchitude. Bitch.”
“I’m a bitch! I’m such a bitch! I’m Banner’s bitch! I’ll do anything he wants!” Rob screamed into the darkened alley.
“Ha, now I get it, I know why my dad was-” Banner chuckled dryly, interrupted when his cell phone rang. “That’s prolly that nigga again, tellin’ me he run out of weed or some shit. I swear to God- Oh, nevermind, it’s my boss. Shush.” He stopped moving with his cock all the way in Rob’s ass.
There was a long silence. It took all of Rob’s concentration to avoid crying out. Banner stopped moving, but he stopped with his entire cock throbbing in Rob’s ass.
“Yes, sir. Uh-huh. Uh, yeah, Math, I’m just, uh, takin’ care of- Right. Yes, sir. I’ll be there in a moment.” He hung up the phone and barked. He punched Rob in the back, then roared and backed away. Blessed relief flooded Rob as his ass was emptied. “I swear to Christ, I will rip this bitch’s throat out.” He pulled his pants up. “You hear me? I will kill- Sorry ‘bout punching you, man. I ain’t mean to hurtcha.”
“No worries, I’m not hurt-“
“I will lay down some law like a lawyer, boy. You best believe it,” he said. He went back into the club, still shirtless, his cock and his ass moist. His dick was still as hard as iron, and if the club weren’t so dark, the bulge in his jeans would have been obvious.
Rob pulled his pants up, just in case more people came out the back. He kept the door open too, watching. But the club was crowded and dark and smoky and loud, and Rob got only a vague impression of what was happening in there.
A glass-shattering crash. Gasps. What the fuck?! A crack. More gasping. Some laughter. Angry words spat out too quietly to hear. A moist sound that Rob couldn’t identify. You still feelin’ grabby, my man? A shriek of terror. Shut the fuck up! You gonna walk out like a man or you gonna get yaself thrown out like a bitch?
Then Rob saw a blurry mix of limbs and muscle come his way. He stepped away from the door just in time to see Banner dragging a thrashing man out into the alley. The man was drunk, crying, red-faced, blood streaming from his nostrils.
The man staggered to his feet in the puddle of dumpster water he landed in. “Fuck you!” he screamed. He drunkenly, slowly put his fists up. “Come at me, bro. Come at me. Try me, huh?”
Banner laughed. “Don’t make me. I would come over there and kick ya ass, bro. I would do it. But you happened to interrupt me when I was punishin’ the last deadbeat who raised up a fuss and I don’t wanna stop.”
“Come at me!” The drunk man kept repeating that, staggering around the alley. He didn’t seem to notice at first when Banner dropped his jeans again.
Banner’s cock was not totally hard anymore, but he had only lost a bit of his erection. He rammed it into Rob’s ass and sighed as though he was scratching an itch he had been unable to reach for a long time. He slipped his entire cock in, and Rob squealed — he had to make it very loud to get the drunk’s attention.
The drunk stepped closer like he didn’t understand what he was seeing. He screwed up his eyes and wrinkled his nose. “You’re cornholin’ that man’.”
“You earnin’ yo’ identifyin’-nasty-shit merit badge, man?” Banner said. “Cuz you got it. You earned that.”
There was a long pause. “That’s nasty.”
“Go home, fuckwit! Ain’t you figure this out yet? When I’m done cornholin’ this deadbeat, I’m gonna come over there and cornhole you, ya dig? I’m gonna cornhole you till yo’ eyes bleed. I’m gonna cornhole you even though my dick gonna be limp cuz I just cornhole him, I’ll just shove it in ya ass anyway and watch porn on my phone till I get hard again. So you had better run the fuck away befo’ I finish.”
The drunk man covered his mouth like he had to suppress a shout. Then he turned tail and fled. He ran down the alley, swaying from side to side so badly he bumped into the wall and knocked over a trash can.
One of Banner’s hands grabbed Rob’s hair, holding his head in place. He groaned and moaned. Rob stroked himself off.
But first, before he reached orgasm, Rob pulled out his own cell phone. He handed it to Banner and said, “Here. Will you call my dad?”
“Call yo’ daddy?”
“Yeah. Tell him you’re cornholin’ me. I want to humiliate him. He doesn’t like the idea of me being dirty at all, and he would hate it if he knew I let a bouncer in me. No offense,” Rob said. “I’ll give you an extra hundred bucks. His name is Eugene.”
Banner grabbed the phone and muttered. “Fine.” He snorted and cleared his throat as it rang. “Yo. Hey. You, uh, Eugene? That’s right, I got ya boy’s cell phone. He can’t talk right now, on ‘ccount of he’s bein’ bitched out. Uh-huh. I’s a bouncer at the Clever Pipe, that’s that discount burlesque club, ya boy is here right now jackin’ dudes off for a quarter — yeah, he just drainin’ they balls so they ain’t gotta spend as much on lapdances. If you ever been to the Clever Pipe, you know they got some nasty-ass females. But only scumbags ever come here, so it works out for them. Anyway, I was callin’ you to give you an update on ya boy and see if you wanna buy this car I got — it ain’t stolen, I swear, but I do gotta get rid of it tonight and it’s got Massachusetts tags you should prolly take off right away. You can pay in money or in meth. Uh-huh. Sorry, I’s havin’ trouble hearin’ ya over the sound of ya boy swallowin’ nutsacks. You teach him to do that? You teach him good.” He stopped and shrugged. “He hung up. Ya daddy sound like a judge. He a judge?”
“No.”
“Good. Cuz I might have kick ya ass for real if yo’ daddy was a judge. He sound like the fuckhead who put my brother away,” Banner said. “Now hush up, I’m gonna cum.” He put his cell phone on Rob’s back, and the tinny sound of hetero porn filled the air.
Once he got it started, however, Banner didn’t seem to spend much focus looking at the screen. He closed his eyes and moaned, tweaking his own nipples. He groaned in disgust when Rob orgasmed and sprayed his wad over the alley ground, but he didn’t say anything.
“Aw, fuck, aw fuck, aw fuck…” Banner grunted. He pushed on Rob’s head and gripped his ass tightly in position.
A wash of hot cum spurted into Rob, followed by a long torrent of semen. It was thick and creamy, and it seeped into his flesh. Banner stopped moving while he came. He closed his eyes tightly as though watching a horror movie. His cock spasmed and the cum flowed until it was dripping out of Rob’s ass and onto the trashy ground beneath him.
“God damn, bitch. God damn,” Banner said. He smacked Rob’s ass without removing his cock, chuckling when that made Rob yelp and squirm. Banner swayed his hips and twitched his dick, causing a bubbly frothy load of cum to slip out. It coated Rob’s ass and dripped in clumps onto the ground.
“Wow, thanks-“
“Pay me, bitch,” Banner said with a growl like a jaguar. It sent a chill up Rob’s spine. “You best not cheat me. And clean my cock off wit’ yo’ clothes.”
“Yes, Banner,” Rob said. He used his shirt to wipe off Banner’s cock, then brought out his own smartphone. They used the app that Rob’s father had invented — PayUp — to transfer four thousand, one hundred and fifty dollars into Banner’s account. Rob didn’t tell Banner that it was his father’s app. Rob knew better than to spread that kind of personal info around.
Banner put his sweaty wifebeater back on. “Alright, you done.”
Rob didn’t respond right away. He was all cleaned up and dressed, ready to go, but he wanted to watch Banner’s muscle-bound body for as long as possible. Banner stayed there at the door, scowling at him.
“Okay, man, you get away,” Banner said. He spat on the ground. “Or I will kick yo’ ass for real.”
When Banner formed a fist with one hand and reared back ready to strike, Rob turned tail and fled into the night.

Seven Minutes in Heaven

Lance is a victorious lawyer given a reward he’ll never forget: Seven Minutes in Heaven with a hunky jock named Chris. He gets seven minutes to do anything he wants to Chris’s studly body, and he fully intends to get the most out of every minute!

Read it now as an ebook!

Or read the whole thing here!

Lance didn’t want to go to the party, but it was being thrown in his honor, so he couldn’t refuse. The Smashwood crew had lit a big bonfire by the time he got there, and they were all shotgunning beers — they hadn’t been allowed to drink while they were on house arrest, so now they were making up for lost time.
To Lance, it was bittersweet. He had been living in Oklahoma for most of a year, and he had gotten his local law license in time to defend a group of offenders from Smashwood Trailer Park, who were accused of a series of small-time robberies and assaults. He was proud of his success in getting all of the charges dropped. On the other hand, he knew they were guilty. They had beat a man so badly he spent ten months in the hospital. On the other, other hand, the state of Oklahoma had been unable to prove it, so he didn’t regret getting them off. That was his job, after all, and he was good at it.
“Congrat’lations, man!”
“My girl’s pussy thanks ya!”
“Hell yeah! Best lawyer in Oklahoma!”
Someone handed him a beer, and Lance sipped it at first, then realized the others were all chugging, so he did likewise.
“Come on, broh, drink it!” Chris Hazel yelled through a barrel of drunken laughs, and the others echoed him. Chris was the youngest here, only nineteen, and built like the high school football star he had been just a year or two ago. He had a jolly-cute face though. “Chug it! Chug it!”
“Hey, so… uh…” Math sidled up to Lance, shooing his friends away and telling them to stop pestering him. Math was the leader of the Smashwood guys — a loose-knit gang of small-time thieves — alleged thieves — he was the one who faced the most extensive charges, so he benefited the most by Lance getting the whole crew acquitted. Math leaned in so close his face was right next to Lance’s ear. “So, uh… How crazy is you?”
“Very,” he said. Then without thinking about it, he kissed Math on the lips. Math’s eyes opened wide amid the laughter and shocked gasps from the other rednecks. For a moment, Lance thought Math was going to hit him, but then Math smiled — it hadn’t been much of a kiss, after all, just a dry peck on the lips.
Math pointed to the three girls at the party. They were hot, in a slutty redneck way, and they lounged in one corner as though waiting. They wore skimpy outfits that showed off their tits and ass, and they each had trashy tattoos on their lower back. Lance strongly suspected they were prostitutes.
“You wanna fuck one of them? Or all three?”
Lance shook his head. “Thanks,” he said. “But no thanks. I’m not interested.” That was both because he wasn’t in a mood for women right now and cuz he didn’t do prostitutes. Lance preferred a more elegant class of women. “No prostitutes for me, Lyle.” Lance called him ‘Lyle’ because ‘Math’ was a gang name and he had denied throughout the trial that he was the person known as ‘Math’. Lance chose not to use it when he could avoid it. He had made the argument in court, after all, that Lyle was not Math.
“I told you guys!” Math called out to the others. Math’s voice was suddenly loud, booming across the trailer park. Most of them had moved on and were trying to get a three-wheeler unstuck from a muddy ditch it couldn’t extricate itself from, so the party was quiet enough for an ordinary conversation.
A burst of chatter hit the guys around the bonfire. Lance didn’t hear what they were saying because everyone spoke at once.
“You want a different female?” Math asked.
Lance shook his head. “You don’t owe me anything, Lyle. You already paid me for my services.”
“I ain’t tryna-a pay you,” Math said. “I’m tryna-a congratulate you.” He sneered as though Lance should have known the difference.
“Let ‘im cornhole you, Math!” said someone else with a laugh.
“Yeah, Math, you do it! You the one who had the most to lose.”
That was true — Math had faced some extra charges because he was in charge of the beatdown, plus the bloody bat had been found in his trailer here in the Smashwood Trailer Park. But Math looked horrified at the thought, and he furrowed his brow at Lance as though he hadn’t considered he would be willing to cornhole a man but not fuck a woman.
Then Math’s eyes lit up. He must have concluded Lance was Christian. Which was true, but not the reason Lance didn’t want a prostitute.
“He don’t wanna cornhole me,” Math said with a wrinkle of his nose.
“Uh…?” Lance smiled. “No, Lyke. You’re wrong about that.”
“Really? We was gonna let you swing on some dick if you wanted, but we thought you’d want a woman instead,” Math said.
“You thought that, Math,” someone said with a laugh. Whoever it was shrouded by the darkness beyond the bonfire.
Math shrugged. “Well, fine, pick someone to jerk off,” he said. “Ain’t no one here gonna take no dick up the ass, but a mouth is a mouth, right guys?”
Lance was astonished.
Chris, that young fresh-faced jock, chuckled and blushed. “Seven Minutes in Heaven! We should play Seven Minutes in Heaven with him!” he blurted out a few times until the others heard. He was a husky baby-faced redneck, with a literal red neck and scruffy chin like he only just gained enough facial hair to shave and was growing a beard because he finally could. His meaty lineman-jock body jiggled. “Seven Minutes in Heaven!”
“What are we, middle-schoolers?”
“Shut the fuck up, Chris.”
“What’s Seven Minutes in Heaven?” Lance had never heard of it.
Despite most of the rednecks saying no and telling Chris it was a stupid game for teenagers, they all accepted his idea. Lance had no idea what he was talking about, as the rednecks all formed a tight circle near the bonfire.
Math explained, “So this is a game, we normally play it with just the girls, or we used to play it in high school,” he said. “It’s stupid, a kid’s game. We don’t do it no more.” But despite his words, they got ready to play, Math included. The girls joined the circle as well. “It’s basically Spin-the-Bottle but rather than just kiss, you have to go in the dirty-dawg trailer-” he pointed to an uninhabited trailer next to the bonfire, “for seven minutes.”
“And we… do what??”
“Whatever you want,” Math said.
Math nodded grimly. “Even me, man. It’s just dome, or whatever. Just let ‘im taste yer nut. Ain’t a big deal. We all spent a night in lockup-” He stopped because the other guys clapped and coughed over him as though they had all promised not to speak of whatever had happened there. His voice trailed off.
Someone put the bottle in Lance’s hand. If he weren’t so nervous — and excited — he would have declined. But he spun the bottle anyway.
“Not me! Not me!”
“Hey, after the sissy, let’s keep going, we got three girls, that’s nine holes to fill!”
It almost landed on one of the girls, then just barely managed to rotate to the next person in the circle. Chris.
Lance’s heart started pounding — if he had thought rationally about it, Chris would be exactly whom he would have picked: the handsome jock with the muscles and the dimples… He would be ideal. But this was all happening so fast that Lance didn’t even think about his ideal first choice before it was all done.
“Makes sense, it was your idea,” Math said over the hooting laughter. The others laughed and catcalled at Chris, who blushed beet-red. Somebody smacked him on the ass as he walked towards the trailer. He cast a nervous glance at Lance. He had a nice phat ass, and his cheeks rippled when his friends tapped him on the ass. He bristled like he was uncomfortable with it, but didn’t complain.
“I don’t even care, I’ll let some sissy swing on my dick,” Chris said. “I need to get my dick wet!” He grabbed his overflowing crotch-bulge as he stood in the threshold of the trailer, then entered. His confidence disappeared entirely once he was in the trailer. He made eye contact with Lance and winced.
Chris was a tall, beefy young man, with broad shoulders and a barrel-shaped body. He had been a linebacker on his high school football team, and he still retained all that heft and meat even now, a couple years out of school. He had peachfuzz on his cheek and his chest — visible under the wifebeater he wore — and a thick mop of blond hair on his head. He had a powerful body beneath his layer of padding, which was just thick enough. He had the physique of an athlete who had never watched what he ate, so his perfect frame was concealed by a layer of sexy plumpness. He smelled of sweat and cheap deodorant, a scent that made Lance’s dick get hard in his pants.
“Whatchoo wanna do?” Chris asked, his voice wavering. It sounded like he rarely lacked confidence, and was uncomfortable with it.
“What, uh… What are the rules?” Lance asked.
“You can do whatever you want,” Chris said. He blushed again, as his friends outside called out to him.
“You swallowin’ that sissy dick yet, Chris? Bet you regret comin’ up with this idea?!”
“Fuckin’ retard!”
“Cornhole Chris! Cornhole Chris! Make him cry, Lance!”
Chris sighed. “I know Math said you can say no, but you ain’t s’sposed. Or I ain’t s’sposed to, I mean… neither of us is s’sposed to. It’s bein’ a bad sport.”
“Oh,” Lance said. Not wanting to waste any time, he sunk to his knees. Chris wore dirty, loose jeans, and Lance grabbed his crotch through the denim. He sniffed the filthy material, then looked up at Chris, who watched as though terrified of what was happening.
The rednecks outside outside the trailer were chanting “Cornhole Chris!” over and over as they directed flashlights through the curtains into the trailer. Their light danced on the walls like searchlights. The curtains meant they couldn’t see inside anyway, but the lights were still blinding for Chris and Lance.
Chris nodded. “I play by the rules, suh,” he said. “Just tell them you jerked me off, and I have a huge one. Ain’t gotta lie ‘bout that. I don’t give a shit who swallow my nut.” Despite his words, he sucked in his breath as Lance touched his dick. Lance suspected he had rarely, if ever, let a man jerk him off, except perhaps that one time in jail (when it seemed the whole crew had done so — Lance wondered who had done the swallowing then; had it been one of them? Or was there an outsider in there with them?).
Lance unzipped Chris’s jeans and pulled them down. He wore plain dingy white briefs, which Lance also pulled down. He whistled at the sight of Chris’s massive cockshaft, which hung limply between his trunkish legs.
“Hey, Chris, squeal like a piggie, okay? I know you can do it! Yee-haw!”
A blush spread across Chris’s face, and he frowned like a part of him wanted to run outside and start throwing punches. Lance guzzled down his limp dick before he could change his mind. Chris had a thick, greasy slab of meat, and his youthful vigor meant it perked up in Lance’s mouth right away.
“Ah, damn…” Chris said, a blush appearing on his babyface as though he hadn’t meant to reveal how good this dome was. “You swallow that like a champion mare, boy.”
Lance smiled around the rapidly firming cock in his throat. He slathered spit up and down Chris’s shaft, and he grinned as the plump cocktip tickled the back of his throat.
“He’ll do anything, Lance, remember that! This is Seven Minutes in Heaven, not Seven Minutes in Compromise!”
“Stick it in his ass! Make ‘im squeal!”
They laughed as though it was a huge joke, but also with a trace of seriousness. From the faint grumblings that Lance heard indistinctly outside, he suspected that two men had, on occasion, gone into this trailer before for a similar purpose. They were whispering about it as some long-ago scandal.
Chris grunted as though surprised at how good this spot of dome felt as Lance swallowed his cock down to the root. He quickly got hard, and he humped his hips into Lance’s face. Chris’s round jaw wriggled as he chewed on his lower lip, whether out of passion or anxiety or both Lance wasn’t sure.
The sour flavor of precum coated Lance’s tongue. He moaned and let some of it drip out of his mouth, running in rivulets down the veins that wrapped over Chris’s plump shaft.
Six minutes left!
Lance wanted to see how far he could take Chris, so he licked the man’s heavy, low-hanging balls while taking his own cock out of his pants. He licked a trail from Chris’s cock and over his belly.
Chris was in excellent shape, but he didn’t have a six-pack — it was obvious, to Lance anyway, that he didn’t have the body-type for it. This was probably about as close as he was capable of getting, just a little paunch and a layer of padding over his dictionary-sized pecs. Lance sucked on his nipples as Chris’s muscles rippled and he held back a moan.
Chris either didn’t care or didn’t notice as Lance jousted with his cock and Chris’s. Lance stroked off both shafts at once. Chris was more focused on moaning as his nipples grew erect in Lance’s mouth. With both men’s precum running from their cocktips, it wasn’t obvious to Chris that the sensation on his dick came from Lance’s manhood rather than his fingers.
Then Chris blanched. His hands fluttered like he didn’t know where to put them — he had realized he was touching dicks with Lance. He moaned with pleasure, then blushed as if he was trying to stop from moaning.
“You want me to stop?”
“Nah,” Chris said. He took a deep breath. He spoke quietly to be sure no one outside could hear. From the occasional rocking and banging on the walls, it sounded like the other rednecks were right on the other side, listening for any hint at what was going on in there. “I’ll do anything you want,” Chris whispered. He looked down at his massive trailer park-bred feet. Lance got on his knees and kissed him on the lips, which were dry and thick. Chris opened his mouth as though he had been waiting for that, and their tongues interlocked. Lance was shocked that Chris kissed him back.
As someone outside called out, Five minutes left, Lance decided to hurry up. He sunk back down, tongue leaving a trail of spit down Chris’s thick neck, chest, belly, crotch and thigh. He intended to let Chris ram his face.
But it seemed Chris didn’t get that. Chris instead grumbled a bit but mounted Lance’s body backwards, as though he was going to sixty-nine. Lance gasped with shock as Chris’s cock and balls plopped on his face. Sweat and precum dribbled down his cheek.
“Thanks for getting me outta prison,” Chris said.
Then, before Lance could tell him he didn’t have to do this, Chris swallowed Lance’s dick. He gagged right away, even before it hit the back of his throat, and then he gagged continuously until he got used to it. His tongue battered Lance’s cockshaft, which was already erect and throbbing. Lance sucked in his breath, and his toes curled.
Absolutely shocked by this development, Lance nearly blew his load immediately. He had rarely felt such intense pleasure, as his cock throbbed and pulsated in Chris’s mouth. Chris gurgled, and he sucked down every drop, regardless of how his throat spasmed around the salty precum that leaked down his gullet.
Lance instinctively used one hand to guide Chris’s head up and down, while Chris’s meaty body planted his own cock in Lance’s throat. Lance swallowed it to the root, and he too slathered spit up and down the shaft. Chris hadn’t lost any bit of his erection, so it firmly filled Lance’s throat and it too spewed precum into Lance’s belly.
Seemingly overcome by passion, Chris stopped playing with Lance’s precum-nearly-cumming cock. He lifted his head up and grunted as he slammed his dick deep into Lance’s throat. He gasped, and Lance choked. His thick arms grabbed both of Lance’s legs and held on to them tightly.
His mouth open and his head near Lance’s dick, Chris was trying to swallow that dick once more, but his orgasm was too intense to do it. He couldn’t concentrate, all he could do was moan as pleasure shuddered through his body, while Lance’s dick did little more than bob and spasm, leaving a trail of juices along Chris’s butterface.
“Yee-haw, fuck! Yeah!” Chris said as quietly as he could muster. His back arched and the peachfuzz on his spine stood up.
Chris’s entire muscular body jiggled when he came, spraying a load all the way down Lance’s gullet. He felt up his own nipples with each hand, and his burly body puckered beneath Lance’s grasp. Lance savored the creamy texture and salty flavor as it overwhelmed his senses.
Then Chris kneeled, planting his hairy ass on Lance’s face. He laughed as Lance licked the ticklish taint between his thighs. He reached out and stroked Lance’s dick with one hand, while his other caressed Lance’s smooth chest.
Chris breathed deeply, with a sick smile on his face as he watched Lance lick his sensitive taint. Every few seconds a shudder of post-orgasmic pleasure shot through him, and Chris’s whole body writhed atop Lance’s face.
“Damn, you smooth as hell, boy,” he said.
“Have you ever messed around with a man before?”
Chris looked away. He didn’t answer out loud, but it was obvious the answer was yes — Lance really wanted to ask for details, but he didn’t think Chris would provide any, and regardless, Lance was too aroused to concentrate. He couldn’t believe this football jock was touching his cock.
It was probably in prison, anyway, before the trial, when it seemed Math, Chris and all the others had messed around. As the youngest, they might have made Chris bottom for the whole crew, Lance thought, a possibility that Lance wished he could have watched.
He took his ass off Lance’s face, then mounted Lance’s crotch. He squatted over it and let his ass land on Lance’s hardon. He looked pained even before Lance’s dick sunk inside him. He winced and hung his head to avoid eye contact with Lance.
“Oh shit that hurts!” Chris said with a wince. That made it seem like he was intact, Lance thought, as another burst of bliss wracked his body, emanating from his sensitive cock.
“Sorry, sorry,” Lance murmured, his lithe body growing sweaty as the trailer heated up. He let out a cringing moan of passion as Chris lowered his plump cheeks. Lance chuckled. “Ow, shit, Chris! That’s too big!”
“Ah, damn, horse-cock Chris strikes again!”
“Hold ‘im down, boy! Ain’t no backin’ out!”
His dick disappeared in Chris’s well-muscled ass, which was firm as overinflated basketballs. Chris’s blushing face turned even redder from both embarrassment and pain. His post-orgasmic dick even spasmed a few times when Lance hit Chris’s prostate. Jizz leaked onto Lance’s belly and slid into his crotchhair.
Lance grabbed Chris’s body and felt his muscles, which were tense and flexed. Beneath the padding he was like a statue though, gym-toned muscles firm as rocks, and the feel of his masculine physique made Lance want to ram him like this forever, instead of a mere seven minutes in heaven. Chris remained perfectly still aside from an occasional gasp and wince.
“Damn, Chris, you got a perfect ass…” Lance muttered, as the tightness of it sent waves of sensation through his body. He kissed Chris’s muscular torso and licked the sweat that had collected there.
His dick was all the way inside Chris now, sliding in and out. Chris was such a big boy that his asscrack was huge, matted with dark blond hair and dripping with sweat, spit and assjuice. That meant he was well-lubed, so Lance could easily slid his dick in and out. Chris did suck in his breath every few seconds in pain, but he didn’t complain.
One minute left!
The more they got a good rhythm going, the most Chris seemed to get into it. It wasn’t clear that he even heard the men outside giving him just one minute left. Lance didn’t want Chris to get caught in this position when they opened the door, so he plowed hard back and forth, ignoring the spasming pain of Chris’s muscles. Instead Lance rammed his crotch against Chris over and over as his climax mounted.
Finally that orgasm hit him like a linebacker tackle, just as Lance heard the men outside chanting and counting down the last thirty seconds. Lance gasped, and Chris squealed his discomfort. He blushed at having made such an unmanly sound. Luckily nobody outside seemed to hear it.
As the orgasm washed over him, Lance yelped and squirmed. He made enough noise that the rednecks outside heard and laughed. They were knocking on the door now, but it seemed they had a rule of not opening the door until the seven minutes was up.
Lance’s limp cock plopped out of Chris’s ass. Chris breathed a sigh of relief. Then without another word, he backed up, making all of the jizz up his backside flow out and plop onto Lance’s back.
As the last ten-second countdown began, Chris rested his balls right on Lance’s nostrils, and the scent of his rank sweat coated Lance’s nose. Chris’s balls smelled like his own ass, mixed with feet and cum and perspiration. It was almost enough to make Lance nut all over again.
Chris guffawed. “I’s teabaggin’ him, guys!”
“Four. Three! Two! One!”
They flung the door open, obviously hoping to catch Chris in a compromising situation. But Chris was on top of Lance, leaving no clue that Chris had been penetrated. His gigantic cock was plainly visible — that must have been his goal, Lance thought, to make sure his friends saw he had a giant cock, and Chris was teabagging Lance. Lance’s body was covered in cum — and so was Chris’s ass, not that they could see that.
They clapped at the sight of Lance’s moist face. Chris blushed as though he hadn’t meant to get caught at all, and he pulled his underwear on. Someone handed him a beer as he left the trailer, still wearing nothing but his briefs, and Math smacked his ass with a howl. His asscheeks must have had jizz clinging to them — Lance’s jizz — but Math either didn’t notice or didn’t want to point it out in front of th ewhole crew.
“You alright, Lance?” Math asked. He side-eyed Chris.
“He’s fine,” Chris said, winking at Lance. “His ass couldn’t quite take the Big C-” He grabbed his cock through his shorts and wagged it at Math. “But his mouth managed to hold in there. It was seven minutes in heaven for sure.”
“That’s right,” Lance said with a knowing grin as he too stepped out of the trailer. “It truly was seven minutes in utter heavenly bliss.” He was exhausted but he tried to hide it, thinking it might look obvious that he had done some plowing and that Chris had bottomed.
But most people were drunk by then, and they just guffawed at Chris’s embarrassed look. No one even seemed to consider the possibility that Chris had bottomed.
And in any case, they were all focused on moving onto the next round of the game. That meant getting the remaining men — plus those three prostitutes — to sit down in a circle with a bottle yet again. Lance hung out near that trailer, hoping he would be able to get a peek inside at what happened during the next Seven Minutes in Heaven.

Breaking Alpha

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

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

Read it now as an ebook!

Or read the whole thing here!

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