partying – Mansploitation

The Stripper

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

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

The Frat Boy Bottoms

When Avery attends a college party, he never thought he’d get to play Seven Minutes in Heaven with a studly frat bro named Chad. But not only does that happen, Chad is willing to bend over and take it however Avery wants to give it, as long as Avery puts in a good word with a woman. That gives Avery an incredible opportunity to explore the world of Twink on Top!

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Read the whole thing here!

Avery came to the Omega Omicron Tau party with Claire Quentin, who was possibly the hottest girl in the entire nursing college. She knew it too. Men reacted like cartoon dogs when a pretty girl-dog walks by and their dog-jaw literally drops to the ground while their dog-heart pounds out of their chest. The frat boys blushed as they stared at her beautiful body and sweet face. Her body parts jiggled in a most delightful way with every step she took, like a sultry stack of jello. Avery sighed and beat back his jealousy.
They were all young enough that the genders didn’t mix too much once the party began. Everyone was too awkward for that. The couples danced together, and eventually made their way upstairs or into the pantry to make out. Meanwhile the single boys remained in their own little huddle, drinking, daring each other to drink more and insulting each other’s ability to hold their alcohol. The single girls danced and giggled with each other, sneaking glances at the boys whenever they thought no one was looking.
“Hey, Lisa Anne, which one do you think is cutest?”
“Chad.” Lisa Anne blushed and giggled.
“Chad,” said Brenda, without even being asked. Everyone laughed as the boys glanced over, especially Chad, who seemed to have heard that the girls were talking about him. He tried — and failed — to look like he was not eavesdropping.
It was only Avery who felt equally at home among the women and the boys. He smiled to Chad. “I was just telling these total sluts what a hottie you were.” Chad turned bright red even as he forced a cocky smile on his face. “I’m on your side, Chad,” Avery said and made a mock black-power salute.
Avery and the other girls continued to drink daiquiris and sneak glances at the boys, especially Chad. Chad was a square-jawed all-American type, with blond hair and a perfect little nose. He was muscular and athletic, and he was rumored to have a giant dick. That was the only thing Avery could think about every time he saw Chad. He didn’t know if it was true, but he hoped it was. Chad kind of moved like he had a big dick.
“Seven Minutes in Heaven! Remember that?” Lisa Anne asked, snapping Avery back to reality. He enjoyed watching Chad’s neck muscles writhe as he chugged a beer to the chanting and whoops of his buddies.
“Ohmigod, Lisa Anne that is such a good idea! I haven’t played that since in forever!”
“Boys, do you want to play Seven Minutes in Heaven?!” The girls laughed as the boys hesitated, then agreed all at once — none of them wanted to seem like the loser who didn’t want to play along. There were more fraternity brothers from the university than sorority sisters from the nursing college at this party, even though it was a sorority party. That was simply because GHU was much bigger than the women’s nursing college.
Not that there were too many men for Avery. He greatly appreciated the male form and would have been fine with no women at all. More than fine. Well, without women, there’d be no way to get the men to play Seven Minutes in Heaven. Frat boys will do anything for the chance to bang a sorority girl. So Avery did find women useful in that sense.
They all sat in a circle, while Lisa Anne found an empty beer bottle. There were only four closets in the house, which was going to limit the game. The whole point of Seven Minutes in Heaven was that they needed to have some privacy. So only four pairs were going to be able to play at once.
Avery felt a twinge of awkwardness. He hung back, not quite in the circle but not out of it either. He wasn’t sure at first if they would even want to include him. He wasn’t a student at GHU, he just lived near the campus and hung out there often.
“C’mon, Avery, the boys will be good sports about it. If the bottle points to you… They’ll follow the rules,” Lisa Anne said, her cheeks turning red as she giggled with Claire. “Right, boys? Us girls will go in a closet with each other if that’s what the bottle says.”
None of them spoke at first. Then one of the frat boys, Nail, grumbled, “Yeah fine.”
Avery wondered what would happen if he really did end up in a closet with a girl. Would he be able to handle it? They sat alternating genders. Avery kind of wished he hadn’t agreed to play, but he desperately wanted a chance to spend seven minutes in heaven with one of these guys. One in particular — Chad, with the dick large enough to have its own rumor mill.
Lisa Anne spun first since it was her idea to play the game. The bottle pointed to Nail, who was cute and well-muscled, with a perfectly coiffed hairdo. He beamed broadly, and breathed an audible sigh of relief that he ended up with hot blonde Lisa Anne and not Avery or the fat chick. Lisa Anne squealed with delight and scurried off to the front closet with him.
Chad sat next to Lisa Anne, so it was his turn to spin next. He watched Claire, the sexy chick in a slutty dress, as though he could will the bottle to point to her. She was so pretty few of the boys ever looked away from her. They were like puppies watching a can of dog food get opened.
Since Claire sat next to Avery, he and Chad both made a hopeful face when the bottle slowed down in that direction.
But then it landed on Avery.
It took the circle of drunken college students a few moments to realize what had happened, then they all lapsed into squeals of laughter. The girls giggled and clutched each other, while the boys slapped their own thighs, falling over each other in exaggerated and drunken laughter.
Chad blushed but nodded dourly. His broad shoulders twitched. He glanced at Claire as though hoping she would give him permission to say no. But she just giggled and hid her face in her best friend’s arms. He walked towards the closet in the hallway, trembling though he tried to hide it with a cocky, heavy-footed strut.
“Wait,” Avery said, flipping his limp wrist in Chad’s direction. “Aren’t you going to carry me across the threshold?”
Chad’s face turned an even brighter cranberry red, as the assembled partygoers erupted in whoops and catcalls. But he looked past Avery to the girls, especially Claire, and whatever he saw there apparently suggested he should do whatever it took to keep her laughing. Chad stripped off his shirt, revealing a chest that was even more sculpted than Avery had thought, and he plastered on a big fake smile. There were thick tufts of hair over his bulging pecs, and his muscles roiled with anxiety.
It all happened so fast, and before Avery realized that his joke worked, Chad had swept him up in his arms. Avery swooned, exaggerating his reaction, though there was a big kernel of truth in his squeals of desire that he blurted out like some romance novel heroine. His face nuzzled those iron-hard bulging biceps as Chad squeezed him into the tiny closet at the end of the hall.
In the end, there was simply no way to carry someone across that particular threshold. Chad had to put Avery down on his feet and they crammed into the tiny closet. Avery shut the door behind him, then took out his cell phone. He set the timer for seven minutes (and then when Chad looked away, Avery added another thirty seconds).
“You don’t have to do anything,” Avery said, disappointed in himself for saying it. But he’d feel bad pawing all over Chad if he didn’t want to do it. Just being in his arms for a few seconds had been thrilling enough.
Well, not enough. But you know, Avery could live with it.
Chad breathed a sigh of relief. “Look…” he said, the anxiety evident even in the dimly lit closet. “I’ll do whatever you want, if you can get Claire to hook up with me.”
“What?”
“Put in a good word for me. Tell her I’m cool. She listens to you,” he said. “I’ll let you jerk me off or whatever if you want.”
“Other way around, big guy,” Avery said. He meant it as a joke as he said it, but he realized even before he had finished speaking that Chad was more comfortable with this than Avery had assumed. He was embarrassed about it in front of his friends, but now that they were in the closet alone, he didn’t seem to mind Avery’s hands clutching his toned torso. Avery tweaked his nipples and let his fingers roam up and down Chad’s perfect chest and torso.
“What?” He had that dumb-frat-boy look on his darkened face. Avery kissed him on the neck, and his muscles bristled, tensing beneath Avery’s grasp.
Swallow his dick, Chad! You’ll love how it tastes!
Do it, broh!
The other frat boys laughed at each other as they catcalled to Chad, who just rolled his eyes and ignored them.
“I wanna be on top,” Avery said as though it was the most natural thing in the world. In truth, he would have jumped at the chance to jerk off Chad or even just tweak his nipples once. But he was drunk enough to ask for more than that, and he got the impression Chad would do anything for a chance to get laid by Claire, so Avery thought he might as well shoot for the moon.
“You want…?”
“I won’t tell anyone. I’ll tell them I just jacked you off,” Avery said. “They’ll never know. But I can get Claire to go out with you.”
“Really?”
“I can’t promise she’ll put out. But if you take her to that French restaurant on Market, and you don’t ask her for a blowjob, she’ll probably at least give you a handie,” Avery said. “If you’re not pushy, she’ll give up the pussy on date three.”
“Really?!”
Avery nodded. “She’s told me her schedule. She doesn’t like pushy guys. You gotta pretend you don’t care if she puts out or not.”
“Oh,” he said like that was an impossible request.
“So come on,” Avery said. “You’re really gonna give it up? I’ll put in the world’s best word for you with her. I’ll tell her you saved my cat.”
“Is that a metaphor?”
“What? No, I have an actual cat. I’ll tell her it ran away and you grabbed it right before a car ran over it. No, a truck, a truck almost ran over it,” Avery said. Then he thought for a moment. “Wait, no, a truck did run over it, a truck driven by a greasy redneck who didn’t notice because he was distracted catcalling a girl. You rescued it and brought it to a vet and paid for emergency treatment. Then you brought it back to me. Her name is Buttfucker, by the way.”
“Your cat’s name is Buttfucker?”
“Long story.”
“I don’t have enough money to pay for emergency vet surgery-“
“That doesn’t matter, sweetheart,” Avery said, hugging his big dumb chest close. “The cat wasn’t actually run over by a truck. If she asks, you don’t have money because you spent it all on surgery. She’ll believe that.”
“Oh, yeah, good idea,” he said.
“I know. Boys are so dumb. You were probably planning on taking her to Olive Garden or something.”
“What’s wrong with Olive Garden?”
“Taking a girl to Olive Garden is kinda like saying you’re such a slut I don’t need to woo you at all, but since I’m a gentleman, I’ll buy you a boatload of shit-covered carbs in the hopes of making you too tired to bother saying no. It’s not a romantic place, Chad. Don’t ever take a girl to Olive Garden. You’re better off giving her a few slices of buttered bread and a glass of tap water.”
“Wow, geez, is that what went wrong with Anne?”
“Anne Slattery, from Beta Kappa Tau?”
“Yeah.”
“Is that really where you took her? Ohmigod, yes, that’s a problem, that’s where you went wrong. She has class, Chad, she’s from Connecticut. You can’t take someone like that to Olive Garden. Egads,” Avery said, “What do they teach you boys in school?”
“Chemistry,” he said with a long low sigh of regret.
Avery rammed his hands down Chad’s pants and shivered with delight as he felt the frat boy’s limp cock dangling in the humid jungle of his crotch. It was just as big as they said, and its meaty thickness gave Avery a startlingly intense wave of desire. Avery gave it a squeeze as he used his other hand to undo Chad’s pants.
Chad grimaced but did the same. He pushed his hand into Avery’s pants and wrinkled his nose as he gave Avery’s cock a limp, lifeless stroke. Avery didn’t mind that so much. His awkward fumbling was half the attraction, Avery thought, and it more than made up for his awkward technique.
“So, uh, do I just… get on my knees?” Chad asked.
“Of course. Haven’t you ever had a blowjob?”
“I didn’t know if guys did it differently,” Chad said. He slowly sunk to his knees as he undid Avery’s belt. He pulled down his designer underwear and looked away as Avery’s dick twitched and spasmed in front of his face. His hot breath condensed on the shaft. “You promise you’ll tell her I’m a good guy?”
“Baby, I’ll talk you up so good she’ll marry you,” Avery said. He put his hands on his hips, heart pounding — he never thought Seven Minutes in Heaven would be this heavenly. A full minute was already gone.
A part of Avery still thought Chad would back out right up until he held his breath, opened his mouth and swallowed Avery’s dick. He gagged as soon as it hit the back of his throat, but he didn’t stop. He was determined to get the whole thing in his mouth.
You can hold him down and ram him, Avery! We’ll all back you up, Chad was dressed like a girl. He’s been totally begging for it all night! The boys who hadn’t been chosen in the game laughed as though this was the funniest thing they had ever heard. Chad blushed in the dark. He loves it in the ass, okay? He shoves everything up there: carrots, dicks, dick-shaped carrots, a manual on carving carrots into dicks, he’ll take anything up the ass!
Yeah, he loves being fisted! Absolutely loves it! And when he says no, that’s his way of saying ‘fist me harder’!
His tongue slathered spit up and down the shaft, sending waves of sensation up Avery’s spine. Avery gripped his broad shoulders, holding him tight. His knees went weak from a combination of pleasure and anxious relief that it had begun. He reached down to caress Chad’s strapping back muscles.
That felt so good Avery couldn’t help but moan. His voice wavered, and he held onto Chad’s powerful body for support. Chad seemingly didn’t realize how good he was at servicing Avery’s cock — men were always better at that than women because they have the equipment and know how to make it feel good. Chad didn’t know enough to know he could do it badly. His tongue battered Avery’s cock, and Chad’s big mitts gripped Avery by the smoothness of his pale asscheeks.
“Can I ram you?” Avery asked, holding his breath. He assumed Chad would say no, but he felt he had to ask. He could already tell that Chad had a perfectly firm pair of asscheeks, and normally Avery would just ask if he could give him a rimjob. Chad had a very rimjobbable ass. But since Chad seemed to be willing to bottom, Avery figured it couldn’t hurt to ask.
Chad pulled off his dick and hesitated. “I dunno,” he said. “I don’t like the taste of cock, so that’d be… But won’t that hurt? I don’t have any lube with me. Do you just stick it in?”
Avery shrugged. “I can provide the lube. I know how to do it.”
“You carry lube with you?”
“I’ll use nature’s lube,” Avery said with a giggle. He stuck his tongue out and licked the air, miming out a rimjob.
“Really?” Chad said with a sick smile. “You’ll lick my ass?”
Avery nodded. “You ever had a rimjob?”
“Only black guys ever get rimjobs,” Chad said. Then he stammered as though he hadn’t mean to say that. “I mean… The only two guys I know who ever got a rimjob are both black. It’s no big deal.” He excitedly bent over, gripping the door handle and spreading his asscheeks by pulling his legs far apart. “Not in a racist way. Just, girls give black guys rimjobs more than white guys.”
Oh…,” Avery said. He had no idea that that was true. He’d have to ask his female friends wht that is. “There’s so much I don’t know about girls. It’s a mystery, wrapped in an enigma, and smelling of fish tacos.” He sunk to his knees and dove face-first into Chad’s ass. His cheeks were just as firm as Avery had imagined, and his powerful thighs were tensed tight. Chad’s whole body was tight right now, as both anxiety and arousal kept him flexing hard.
Avery’s tongue ran all the way up and down the crack first, shuddering as he ran overtop that grimy tight hole. Avery loved to give rimjobs to men with intact asses, so he had to really push to get his tongue in there. Chad’s muscles rippled when his tongue passed the rim and teased his sensitive prostate. His ass tasted clean too, like cheap soap and the scrubbed linoleum of a group shower, a little bit of the scent of sweat-soaked elastic seeping into Avery’s nostrils from the edges of his ass, where the straps of the jockstrap he often wore would be.
He flicked his tongue in, which made Chad yelp as a twinge of pleasure — and maybe a bit of pain too — ran up his spine. But Avery was inexorable, lapping at the beautiful brown hole until he could easily get his entire tongue in there.
Then Avery stood. Chad shuddered again in anticipation as Avery spat into his palm, then used that hand to cover his own dick in spit. When it was good and slick, Avery wedged it in between Chad’s cheek and shoved the tip in before he could tighten his ass all over again.
“Are you okay?” Avery asked when Chad threw his head back and let out a hushed howl.
“Yeah…” Chad said, his voice trailing off. He panted as Avery’s dick slid in bit by bit. “We only got like two minutes left. Can you cum that quickly?”
“With an ass like that, I could cum in ten seconds if I was going for speed,” Avery said with a smile. He humped slowly at first, gradually building up speed when Chad didn’t complain too much. He did wince and grimace, but there was a surprised pleasurable tone to his voice — it didn’t hurt as bad as he had thought it would, and a part of him exulted in his prostate’s sensitivity sending shockwaves through his system.
Avery’s orgasm began almost immediately. He wanted to slow himself down, but he knew Chad would back out as soon as the seven (and a half) minutes were up. So he kept himself going even as he shot his load embarrassingly quickly. Huge gobs of it flooded Charlie’s body, more than Avery had ever shot before.
But not before experiencing such intense pleasure that Avery wondered if frat boy ass would forever be ruined for him. No other man’s ass would ever be as tight and perfect, quivering like a bowl full of jelly, as Chad’s. His asshole clenched around Avery’s dick as he moaned, then bit his lip to avoid making too much noise. Both him and Avery struggled not to cry out loud.
They both groaned. Luckily it sounded like the party had moved to one of the other closets, where they listened and giggled at whichever couple was in there. Chad’s face was bright red as he closed his eyes, trying to take every inch of Avery’s dick. Each thrust into his ass sent a spurt of pain through Chad’s body and an explosion of pleasure through Avery’s.
Finally the end came, and Avery felt a twinge of regret as cum flowed from his dick — he wished he had had more time within Chad’s plump, juicy ass. He squirmed, spraying his load over every inch of Chad’s insides. He shivered with desire as intense pleasure rocketed up and down his body. It was so intense his fingers tightened into claws that ripped at Chad’s smooth back.
It continued for what felt like forever. Avery’s orgasm seemed to be more than seven and a half minutes in itself, but the alarm didn’t go off. He filled Chad up with his seed and stayed there, still, savoring the feel of Chad’s ass tightening up around his dick. Cum dripped down between Chad’s thighs. Every time either one of them moved it sent a whole new wave of sensations to wrack both men’s bodies.
Chad groaned and pulled off. He gasped as his ass emptied, and he breathed deeply. He was relieved when he sunk slowly to the ground on weakened knees. Then he winced when he put weight on his aching ass. He rolled onto his side and struggled to his feet.
“There, there, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Avery asked.
Chad shook his head. “It hurt,” he said. “A lot. But no. It wasn’t that bad.” He blushed intensely. “It did hurt though.”
“It always hurts the first time. It’ll feel better next time.”
“There is definitely not ever gonna be a next time,” Chad said, his voice suddenly hostile. He glared at Avery. “I’m not doing this again, and you better follow through.”
“I will, I will, I promise,” Avery said. He pulled out his cell phone, just seconds before the seven-minute alarm he had set went off. “I’m texting her now. I’ll tell her you have a fantastic dick.” Though a part of him wanted to brag about what happened, he knew that if he followed through and Chad ended up getting laid, the other frat boys would find out. Chad would probably just tell them that he allowed Avery to jack him off, but Avery was alright with that — he would gladly jack off every single frat boy in this house right now if they’d let him.
You two done making out in there? I’m pretty sure it’s been seven minutes. That was Lisa Anne’s voice, outside the closet.
Avery opened the door and smiled. They were both dressed now. It smelled like sex in the closet, but he didn’t think Lisa Anne noticed. It smelled strongly of beer outside the closet, which probably overpowered the semeny scent inside.
“Yeah, we’re done,” Chad said. He pumped his biceps and held his shirt in his hands as he flexed his pecs. Lisa Anne swooned, blushed and tried to hide how aroused she was. Chad gently pushed Avery out of the way. “He got fresh, but I gave him seven minutes to remember.”
Before Chad could react, Avery lowered his head and sucked on his left nipple. His pec was hard like a volleyball, which made Avery want to plow him all over again. Chad’s eyes bugged out, and Avery pulled away.
“That’s right, sweetheart,” Avery said, breathlessly exaggerating how tired he was, as though being in Chad’s presence had exhausted him. He collapsed into Lisa Anne’s arms as they all hurried back to the main room.
The circle had reformed. The bottle was in play, and Avery sat down, getting ready for his second go. He smiled and glanced around at all the frat boys, wondering which one he would get next.
This party, he thought, was turning out better than he ever thought it would be.

The Boston Alpha

Desmond is a petite, effeminate prisoner in a big tough prison, so he never thought he’d find himself in a Twink on Top situation. But that all changes when a tough guy Boston thug named Chowder really wants a party, even if that means this muscular alpha will have to bend over and take whatever Desmond wants to give!

Can Desmond handle this particular slice of Twink on Top?!

Read it now as an ebook!

Or read it right here

It was the most enjoyable party Desmond Talley ever been to. He knew perfectly well that it was only this fun because he had been in prison for a year and a half before it happened. It was the first enjoyable event in his entire time behind bars. So it felt like an evening in heaven.
It helped that there were no women. That meant the biggest alphas and thugs danced with girlish sissies like Desmond as though he was a girl. He even got to kiss this redneck named Bubba, whom Desmond had been drooling over for months. On the outside, Desmond was invisible at a party — to women, he was a short, negligible pansy, and to men, he was not a woman.
But in prison, he was a king. Or maybe queen.
The guards watched like it pained them to see inmates having a good time. All the gangs were told that they’d be punished if anyone got in a fight during the party. That was why it went off without a hitch.
There was no alcohol, but the guards did allow a little weed in for the night. That was probably a wise decision, Desmond thought. Alcohol would make men fight, but the weed just made them giggle and become overly entranced by nature documentaries.
But all good things come to an end, and this penal party was no exception. Desmond was disappointed to hear the music stop, and the remaining joint roaches were combined into one, then quickly smoked. The guards bellowed at the inmates to head back to their cells. Everyone lined up, dragging their feet, grumbling and claiming they weren’t gonna stop partying even as they did stop. But Desmond was at least happy that the party had gone off without a hitch — there was no fight, no smuggled-in booze, no one got hurt. That meant there was a chance the guards would allow another party in the near-future.
“Talley, hey, Talley… Desmond!” boomed a male voice. It was one of the guards — the one the inmates call Officer Crabgut — who grinned and grabbed Desmond off the line. Desmond was surprised that he said his first name. The guards never call inmates by their first name. “Come on,” Crabgut said.
“What? What’s wrong? What happened?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” Crabgut said. His belly chortled, his off-gray beard hairs gleaming with sweat or maybe liquor, Desmond was pretty sure the guards were drinking in the monitor-room. Crabgut looked like a drunk. “You’re gonna have a second little party.”
“Do I have a choice?” Desmond wasn’t sure what this was and he was nervous. He didn’t trust Officer Crabgut, whose voice was always menacing. It sounded like a threat even when all he said was it’s going to rain today. Crabgut was notoriously corrupt. That’s not always a bad thing — he was the one who brought weed in — but it did make him untrustworthy. Not that Desmond ever really trusted prison guards.
“Well… yeah, I guess, you can choose,” Crabgut said. “But come see what it is first. You won’t say no. If you refused this, I would be… more shocked than I have ever been in my life.”
It was hard to argue with that, and Desmond was intrigued, so he followed Crabgut into an old disused showering area. Inside the dingy shower were a handful more guards, all brimming with nervous smiles, and seated on the ground in the center of the shower, was Chowder.
Chowder was a leader in a gang called the Jagged Right. He was heavily tattooed, nearly inch of his body covered in Gothic letter, naked ladies, wild animals and an outline of Massachusetts over his left pec. He had a handsome jawline with deep dimples. His broad chest was hairy, and he had developed a six-pack since coming to prison. He was also the tallest inmate in the facility; at nearly seven feet tall, he struggled to fit through doorways and down corridors.
He winced but smiled at Desmond. His dimplesome grin wasn’t unusual — he was outgoing and charming, but he didn’t let that get in the way of business. He was one of the few big alpha males in prison whom Desmond had never jerked off. That was because he had a bitch named Sammi, whom Desmond hated. Chowder plowed Sammi publicly, hard and often. Desmond was jealous because he loved to get plowed hard by alpha thugs like Chowder.
“So, uh… Desmond,” Chowder said. When he spoke, his Boston accent either aroused Desmond or made him laugh, it was hard to tell. “I was, uh… I put togethah that pahty. I was… y’know… Uh, I had to arrange it all, dawg.” He paused like he was expecting a big reaction. “I got the weed, I got the gangs to come together, even the Mexicans-“
“Chowder… come on, we ain’t got all day,” Officer Crabgut said. “Don’t drag this out.” An underhushing from the other guards suggested they thought similarly.
“They said we could have the pahty if I did somethin’ aftah it, to prove I’s really serious about makin’ sure the party was good. I had to show I was gonna make sure it went off without no fightin’ or nothin’,” Chowder said, sucking on his teeth every other word. His thick Boston stawk made it sound like his mouth was full of cranberries. He rolled his eyes and sighed. “Desmond… will you… please stick me up the ass.” The guards all whooped and hollered. Desmond blushed even harder than Chowder, who bit his lip. He took Desmond’s hand in his like he was gonna propose. “Will you let me jerk yo’ dick and take it in the ass and lick yo’ ass but only fo’ five seconds? And no kissing, and no tellin’ nobody aftahwahds.” That sounded like something that had been carefully negotiated with Crabgut.
“Oh wow,” Desmond was so excited his knees were weak. He looked to Officer Crabgut, who had a gleeful smile on his face — Chowder was often in trouble for fighting with the guards, so they were understandably glad to watch him get it up the ass. All the guards were beaming.
Everyone looked at Desmond, who didn’t know what he was expected to do. He looked down at his feet, too scared to say anything.
“You gotta say yes,” Crabgut said with a chuckle. “If you wanna do it.”
“Yes!”
They all laughed at Desmond’s excitement and Chowder sighed again, like he mighta hoped Desmond would say no. He took off the plain blue baseball cap he wore — the only non-religious hat anyone at this prison was allowed to wear — and ran his fingers through his clipper-short hair. He sucked on his teeth and spat on the ground. He looked at Desmond sternly. “No tellin’ nobody. ‘Specially not Sammi. I can’t let her find out I cheated on her.”
“Sure! Okay. I promise, nobody will find out,” Desmond said. “I hate Sammi. I never talk to him. I-“
“Call Sammi a her.” Chowder said. He narrowed his eyes to slits, making it clear that was a threat.
Desmond gulped. He knew Chowder, like most prison alphas, referred to their bitches as a woman. Desmond had simply forgotten because he was so excited. “Okay. Yeah, I won’t tell her. Or anyone else. I swear.”
Chowder stood there, his confidence draining as he very slowly dropped his orange prison jumpsuit. The guards laughed and clapped, hooting like he was a stripper. They demanded he dance and shake his ass as he undressed. “That weren’t paht of the deal,” Chowder said, lips clenched grim as a reaper. The guards seemed to accept that, but they got more and more into cheering him on, pretending he was stripping like a dancer even if he wasn’t.
“Whoo-hoo, Chowder!”
“Let’s see ya pussy!
The sight of his bare chest and his rippling muscles made Desmond’s heart skip a beat. Back on the outside, Chowder was a violent thug, or so said the grapevine from Boston, but one of those rather fat swaggalicious men whom Desmond thought were hot even if they had a belly. Chowder always carried himself like a macho, no matter his physique. In his time in prison, however, all of that fat done melted away, leaving behind a mass of muscle and a well-worked barrel chest that bulged from his skin as though begging him to get fat again. Desmond had seen him naked in the shower, of course, so this was hardly the first time, but this was closer and more exciting. His fat cock swayed between his massive thighs. Drool escaped from Desmond’s lips as he caught whiff of Chowder’s post-party musk.
“If I evah catch you lookin’ at me in the showah like you looukin’ at me now, I will rip yo’ goddamn ahm off and smack yo’ face off with it,” Chowder said.
“Uh, Chowder-” Officer Crabgut cleared his throat. “That’s not okay. You can’t control how people look at you.”
“What I can’t control is my reaction when some sissy look at me like he wanna eat me up,” Chowder said through gritted teeth. “You may not plow me in yo’ imagination, okay, not aftah today.”
“Chowder!”
“Fine. I’m sorry, sissy. Or Desmond or whatevuuh. I ain’t tryin’-a police yo’ mind.” He rolled his eyes at Crabgut’s stern face.
“It’s okay. I won’t, Chowder, I promise,” Desmond said.
Chowder dropped his dingy prison-issued boxer, faded bloodstains ominously covering the crotch area. Desmond wondered where that blood had come from. Was it Chowder’s? Probably not, he thought, or he’d a-got his cock cut off.
“Well, you the sissy, right? How do we proceed?” Chowder scowled.
“Uh… I guess… You should swallow my dick,” Desmond said. His voice had never sounded so weak, at least in his mind.
“Hope this party was worth it,” Officer Crabgut said. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Get on your knees, Chowder. I mean… Chowdah.” He chuckled and glanced at the other guards as though expecting them to think his joke was hilarious.
Chowder glared at him but sunk to his knees. He was nearly seven feet tall, so even on his knees, his face was even with Desmond’s shoulders and neck. He was nowhere’s near close enough to get Desmond’s cock in his mouth.
As Desmond dropped his own pants, Chowder slunk lower and lower. In the end he laid on his back, propping himself up with his arms, a position that made his pecs bulge. Desmond felt weak and cold, but he was glad no one was looking at his own body, which was skinny and trembling with anxiety. He strained to spread his legs wide enough to straddle Chowder’s chest. He wanted to touch him, but Desmond was still nervous about this — if there was one ironclad rule of prison life that nobody ever broke, it was that slim weaklings like Desmond did not top massive alpha thugs like Chowder.
“Yeah, swallow it, Chowdah!”
“Throat him down, Talley!”
“Just foh’ the recahd, I’m doin’ this cuz I want to,” Chowder said. He spat on Desmond’s dick without touching it. “I could say no. These mothahfuckahs ain’t got proof I agreed to nothin’. And I done it before. Not in prison of couhse, but back in the day, me and my boys shared some dome on the downlow. Ain’t no shame in that-“
“Less gabbin’, more swallin’ nuts!”
“Mollywop him, Talley!”
Chowder glared at the guards, but he sighed, and seemed to decide that just going for it was the best way to get started. The longer he drew it out, the more they were going to tease him. He held Desmond’s shaft with his fingertips, like a disgusting snake. Then at last he opened his mouth, took a deep breath and closed his lips around the tip of Desmond’s dick.
He gagged even before his tongue touched it. He closed his eyes, and his entire muscular chest roiled with disgust, but he didn’t slow down even a bit. He let the rest of Desmond’s dick slide deeper even as his eyes frantically darted around as though looking for a way to escape. Desmond’s pubes enveloped his nose.
Almost immediately Desmond felt a surge of pride and confidence. He felt better than he had since coming to prison, and even before that. He pushed his dick in even deeper down Chowder’s tight throat, ignoring the angry look in Chowder’s baby blues. A tight, squeezing warmth spread through his senses.
“Come on, make more spit,” Desmond said, making the guards laugh. “You’ve gotten dome before. You know how to do it. Make it wet.” He wanted to call Chowder his bitch, but he thought that might be a step too far for the mountainous Bostonian.
Chowder did as he was told, even as his nostrils flared and his eyes filled with hostility. He choked up a mountain of saliva — since he was such a huge man, he produced a truly copious torrent of spit — that dripped down his chin and into his bare crotch. His chest muscles became soaked and goopy.
A shudder of desire ran through Desmond’s body as he gripped Chowder’s broad shoulders. His inhibitions melted away. Chowder was crisscrossed with scars and tattoos, including a scattering of bullet wounds on his back. Desmond reached down to caress his body, savoring the feel of his rippling muscles and their firmness beneath his touch.
That made precum leak from the tip of his dick, which reawakened a torrent of sputtered gagging from Chowder. It sent a frisson up Desmond’s spine. The guards laughed and clapped, again hooting and hollering like they were watching a strip show.
“Suck that dick/suck it like I ain’t rich/suck it like a bitch/suck it till you sick/Like you ain’t nevuh turn a trick/Yeah, suck that dick”
One of the guards was rapping; Desmond wasn’t hip enough to know for sure whether he was freestyling or repeating a popular song. It sounded rehearsed though. Maybe a Macky P song.
Chowder pretended it didn’t bother him, but Desmond could feel him bristling at the teasing. It was funny how Desmond could sense Chowder’s reactions through his muscles’ twitching and the way his throat clenched around Desmond’s spasming cock, like Desmond could read Chowder’s mind through his body. Chowder arched his back as he nestled his nose deep in Desmond’s crotch, easily deep-throating every inch of Desmond’s cock. His new position meant his ass rose in the air.
Desmond lusted after it. He couldn’t believe he was going to get to plow Chowder in that ass, and he wondered if Chowder had ever done it before. He said he shared dome with his baystater buddies on the downlow, but could they have done anal too? He tried to reach but Chowder was too tall for Desmond to reach his ass with his dick in Chowder’s mouth.
“Okay, you said you’ll lick my ass, right?” Desmond asked, remembering that suddenly. His voice was huffy and gaspy because he could feel the early burgeonings of his orgasm surging through his body. He wanted to drag this out though.
Chowder pulled off his dick. Thin tendrils of spit connected his greenish face to Desmond’s cockshaft. Chowder grumbled. “Fo’ five seconds, that’s all I agreed to.”
Officer Crabgut laughed. “That’s just a minimum, Chowder. You can lick his ass as long as you want. We got all night.”
“No!” Chowder snapped down over the chortles of the other guards, who all cackled up the serious look on Chowder’s face.
Desmond turned around and bent over as though he was going to get plowed, as that was the only position that raised his ass high enough for Chowder to lick it. Chowder looked away, breathed deeply through his mouth and closed his eyes.
He dove between those cheeks and slammed his tongue in. He was so forceful — and his tongue was so big — that it almost hurt. Chowder rimmed him more aggressively than anyone had ever rimmed him before, and Desmond got the impression that Chowder had never done it before, not even on a girl. Chowder definitely enjoyed receiving rimjobs from his bitch and he always demanded more tongue-in-ass action, but since Chowder was so much bigger than Sammi, he needed as much tongue-penetration as possible, as deep and as hard as possible. Now Chowder’s cock-sized tongue shoved into Desmond’s ass and explored there, hesitatingly as Desmond’s ass-juices smeared over Chowder’s square-jawed face.
“Five! Four! “
But Desmond then felt a ripple of pleasure emanating up his back as Chowder’s tongue battered his prostate. Chowder moaned into his ass and gagged without slowing down. Desmond’s eyes rolled back in his head as pleasure walloped his petite frame. Chowder’s tongue sucked every drop of grime out of his ass, even as Chowder himself sputtered and choked on it.
“Three! Two! …”
The guards conspicuously stopped counting, but Chowder pulled away from Desmond’s ass anyway. He spat on the linoleum shower floor. He wiped his face off with one hand, and his chin waggled but he kept it together. He sniffed, pointedly ignoring the guards as they cheered. He glanced over and saw one of the guards had bared his hairy ass — extremely hairy, nearly gorilla-like — and winked his asshole in Chowder’s direction.
“If you enjoyed that, give Officer Torelli a try! He got all the ass-hair you could eat, boi! He be a ass-buffet for ya!”
Chowder grimaced and looked away. He sighed as he stroked Desmond’s dick with one meaty callused hand. It was the worst handjob of Desmond’s life, but it was also somehow the greatest, its lack of rhythm and rough texture sending shockwaves of bliss through Desmond’s body while slowing down his arousal enough that he was no longer ready to blow his load.
“Time for the ass, Chowder!”
“Give up the booty!”
Chowder snarled at the guards. He turned around and bent over. His initial position was laughably impossible — he simply put his hands on the floor, sticking his ass in the air so high Desmond’s short little body couldn’t even reach it. Desmond had to stand on his toes to touch Chowder’s asscheeks and tap them, signaling him to lower himself.
“Best get down lower, or we gonna need a winch and a pulley to do this right.”
Chowder dropped to all fours. He had a nice plump ass, just enough padding for Desmond’s taste — a remnant of when Chowder was fat-bodied in his pre-prison life. There was a tattoo on his left asscheek, an arrow pointing to his asshole and the words ‘Cop Kissing Zone’.
Desmond separated those thick blubbering cheeks; at first it was difficult because Chowder instinctively flexed his cheeks, keeping them tight, but he forced himself to relax. His crack was lined with sweat-matted hair. Each of Chowder’s asscheeks was bigger than Desmond’s head, making Desmond feel truly tiny by comparison. He took a deep breath and pushed his dick in.
Chowder bit his lip so hard it drew blood. He breathed through his nose and snorted like a rampaging bull. His face turned bright red from both pain and humiliation. The muscles of his back tensed, lines flexing and curving, distorting the tattoos as he stretched.
“Lookit him take it! Like a bitch!”
“Damn I wish we could fuckin’ tape this. Put it on the Internet, make a goddamn fortune.”
“You bettah not!” Chowder said, but for once his voice was not bristling with confidence and machismo. It sounded like a whine, not a threat. He hung his head.
Desmond hadn’t topped anyone since before he came to prison, so this was a refreshing experience for him. He pushed his dick in deeper and deeper, using copious lube (which was provided by Officer Crabgut — that seemed sweet, Desmond thought, he didn’t need to do that; prisoners usually used hog fat from the prison kitchen, so Crabgut was being nice by providing actual lube). Chowder’s ass was clearly intact, so tight that Desmond struggled to shove every inch in his hole.
Chowder was on all fours, so the more powerfully Desmond slammed into his ass, the more Chowder was forced to lower himself. He winced and dropped his hips, making it easier for Desmond to plow him harder. To his credit, Chowder managed to take every inch even though it was obviously difficult for him.
That hairy Italian guard Torelli took his dick out, wagging it in front of Chowder’s face. Desmond couldn’t hear his words because he was overwhelmed by his incipient climax and the boisterous laughter of the other guards drowned out the hairy guard, but it was clear he offered Chowder a taste of his dick. Chowder frowned and kept his eyes pointed away, even as the guard followed his face with his massive, uncut Italian cock.
Eventually Desmond was ramming with all his might on top of Chowder, his feet no longer on the floor at all. Chowder’s broad muscles rippled beneath Desmond’s face, and he licked the salty sweat that beaded on his skin. Chowder writhed beneath him.
His balls slapped on Chowder’s chunky asscheeks, making them jiggle and ripple. Desmond felt like a weird circus novelty, like a midget plowing a strongman to a shocked crowd. Chowder panted like a dog beneath him.
“God-damn, man,” Chowder said, his fingers and toes curling as though trying to dig into the linoleum floor of the prison shower.
“Yeah! Get ‘im good, Desmond!”
“Lookit his little body on top of Chowder. Looks like a kid whose big bro is lettin’ him beat him up.”
Desmond blushed at the guards’ closeness. They were peering into Chowder’s ass as though they had never seen a butt before and weren’t sure what was actually happening. Having an audience was nerve-wracking for Desmond.
His orgasm came on too soon. Desmond was disappointed, but not surprised, as Chowder’s ass was too tight and too perfect to resist it for long. As he felt it arising deep within him, Desmond wasn’t even sure how long it had been — it felt like just a few minutes, but at the same time, it felt like hours. Surely Chowder would have complained if it had taken that long though, he thought. The guards would have gotten bored.
The most powerful orgasm of his life ran through him. Desmond’s entire body shook and trembled, and he moaned so loud he blushed as the guards erupted in a mixture of embarrassed grunts and excited shouts. Some peered closer, while others looked away.
Cum sprayed within Chowder’s ass, a thick and copious loud that filled up every inch of his insides. Chowder moaned too, matching Desmond’s voice, and he buried his face in his forearm. Then he grabbed the blue baseball cap he had thrown on the ground, and he buried his face in that instead.
One of the guards pulled the cap away and looked Chowder in the eye. Chowder’s red face was tense and a few tears of pain and embarrassment drifted down his cheek. Jet after jet of creamy jizz flowed into him and dripped down his thighs.
“Who’s the pussy-faced bitch now?” the guard asked. “Hope the party was worth it.”
Chowder snarled and grabbed his hat back as his ass clenched again around Desmond’s dick. Exhausted, Desmond fell back. His ass plopped out of Chowder’s ass, and Chowder breathed a sigh of relief. He stood and blushed as the guards laughed at the river of cum dripping down his trunk-like, tattooed thighs.
“Hey!” Chowder barked. “We said no bringin’ it up again after it’s done.”
“Ain’t done yet,” Officer Crabgut said. “It ain’t done until you both get your clothes on. Whatchoo think, Chowder? Was the party worth it?”
Chowder hurriedly threw his underwear on, wincing when he accidentally touched his ass and reawakened a torrent of sensitive pain. He put his jumpsuit on and then hurriedly slipped into his shoes when the guards made it clear they counted that as well. “Yeah,” Chowder said. “The pahty was totally worth it.”
Desmond slow-walked it, both because he didn’t mind the guards teasing Chowder and because he was too overwhelmed to really focus on anything but the aftershocks of orgasmic pleasure wracking his body. But when Chowder was done and he saw Desmond wasn’t, he shot him a few dirty looks. Soon they were both dressed. Desmond still felt weak-limbed from the power of his climax, and he could still taste Chowder’s back-sweat in his mouth.
True to their word, the guards stopped teasing as soon as both inmates were dressed again. There was still some scattered laughter, especially when Chowder winced and skipped a step while he walked towards the door behind Officer Crabgut.
“Hey, if you want — and you don’t think Sammi will mind — you can plow me later. As hard as you want,” Desmond said. “If that, y’know, makes you feel better.”
“I know I can.” Chowder’s voice dripped with menace. “I will.”
Desmond smiled. That promised to be almost as good as what had just happened. He couldn’t wait.