The Pimp Bottoms

Madhu is approached by a pimp with a bizarre offer — tutor his brother in computer programming in exchange for the ride of a lifetime. You see, Perry the pimp doesn’t want his brother to follow in his footsteps, meaning he is willing to give Madhu a free swing on a ho for lessons…

But when Madhu’s not interested in a ho — he prefers Perry’s studly body — Madhu is in for a topsy-turvy climax of alpha male twink on top action!

Read it now as an ebook!

Or read the whole thing here!

Living in Philadelphia during presidential caucus season meant that Madhu Sharma was used to being harangued by ideologues of various sorts, distributing pamphlets, QR codes, rumors, surveys, social media pile-ons, revenge porn and, worst of all, merch. So when he saw a flamboyantly dressed man on his doorstep, knocking loud like a swat team, Madhu assumed it was some sort of political stunt. Gato had been calling Governor Saltieri a “pimp for ethanol” for a long time, so Madhu thought perhaps this was a Gato operative.
He opened the door with a dour frown. “I’m a registered Democrat,” he said. “Please don’t give me a sales pitch on any Republican-” He stopped talking because he realized the man in front of him was — or at least was very good at appearing like — a real pimp.
He was black as twilight, and the clothes were fine, tailored, brightly-colored, and seemingly real, not a costume. How many Republican political volunteers were black men with actual pimp clothes? Probably very few. This could only be a real pimp. He was tall, kind of lean but powerfully built, with a harsh face and a long scar from his chin to his cheek. He looked like he thought he was more handsome than he was, and he probably was very handsome as a younger man. Now he was craggy and scarred, with the despirate cast-iron look of an ex-con.
“I ain’t no Republican, motherfucker,” said the man in a hippy rhythm, like it was the opening line to a song. He put a big smile on his face. “The name’s Perry. Can I come in?”
“Uh…” Madhu didn’t answer, but Perry didn’t wait. He pushed past him into the house. He was a lot taller than Madhu, and Madhu’s face was shoved into the door by the massive man as he shoved his way in. Madhu shut the door behind him.
“Can I… uh… help you? I haven’t hired a… well, anyone. I haven’t hired anyone for anything,” Madhu said.
“I know. I gotcha, baby,” he said. “I pickin’ up what you’s puttin’ down, sweetheart. You got confusion, I got answers. Listen, cuz they is packing a wallop. Perry got answers for e’erything, man. Madhu, right? You got any questions about the universe, God, science, history, whatever you want, Perry will lay down the truth to you.” He walked into Madhu’s kitchen and opened the fridge. He snarled in frustration. “You got no beer?”
“No-“
“Liquor?”
“Uh, yeah, in the cabinet over there,” Madhu said. He pointed, and Perry found a bottle of bourbon. He poured himself a drink and added ice. As he did, he passed over his smartphone, which was open to a picture of a scantily clad girl. She looked pretty, but in a rather whoreish way. Madhu couldn’t tell if it was a photograph or a publicity still from a porno. He glanced at it. “What am I supposed to do with this?”
“Look through there for a girl you like,” he said.
Madhu did as he was told, flipping through pictures of slutty-looking women in low-cut dresses. Many of the photos seemed to have been taken in the same low-rent apartment, some ghetto-ass place, and some of the girls were wearing the same dresses. His heart pounded as he tried to figure out what was going on. He had no interest in any of these girls. Why had a pimp burst into his house like this? Should he call the police? If he had his phone nearby, he might have done it, but it was sitting on the charger in his bedroom.
“You know my brother, Jerembee.”
“No I don’t,” Madhu said. “Look, these girls are nice. They’re very pretty, but I don’t see what-“
“That wasn’t a question, bitch, shut yo’ mouth,” Perry said with a dramatic sigh. “When Perry graces you wit’ a statement, you shut yo’ fool mouth and listen.” He took a sip from his bourbon. “You hear me?”
“Yeah… I get it, I just don’t understand-“
“Shut the goddamn fuck up before I shut you up. I is in the process of explainin’, but you ain’t respondin’ right. I’s talkin’, and you’s over there flippy-flappin’ like a penguin about the phone-“
“You told me to look in the phone-!”
“You can do two things at once, dumbass!” Perry jabbed a finger in his direction. “Both look at the girlies and listen to me!”
“Fine.” Madhu flipped back through the pictures of trashy women. He’d already seen them all. When he went back to the end of the photo album, he saw a dick pic of Perry’s cock — presumably — a photo of a birthday cake and some pics of puppies doing cute puppy things. He wondered if Perry realized he was able to flip past the women.
“”You do know Jerembee. He lives next door to you. He lives right over there.”
“Who? Oh, Jay Man?”
“He calls himself Jay Man?”
“Yeah, that’s what he introduced himself as,” Madhu said, though now that he thought about it, he had received mail addressed to his neighbor, so he did know his real name was Jerembee. He just hadn’t thought of it in time. Perry’s presence and his big-chested swagger made it hard to think about anything else.
Perry chuckled. “Don’t call him that. Call him Jerembee from now on. That’s good enough for our mama, it’s good enough for him.” He took another long drink of bourbon. “Fuckin’ Jay Man.” He looked at the glass of bourbon like he had just noticed it was in his hand. “That’s good bourbon. What is it, French?” He looked at the label.
“All bourbon comes from Kentucky.”
His face screwed up tight, and he wagged a finger at Madhu. “Don’chu dare educate me ’bout liquor, you spicetip shit, I will correct you in a most unpleasant fashion, you hear?”!
“Yeah, fine, I still don’t get why you’re here,” Madhu snapped.
“Don’t get snippy wit’ me. You find a girl you like?”
“I… uh… I’m not into prostitutes,” Madhu said.
Perry cocked his head to the side and looked him up and down. “What?” he asked. His eyes cringed at the sight of Madhu’s thin twink body and girlish face. He inspected Madhu up and down. His menace made Madhu shiver with fear. He frowned and grabbed Madhu’s crotch. Madhu felt a surge of pain as Perry squeezed hard on his cock and balls through the fabric of his pants, and Madhu sucked in his breath and stood on his toes. Despite that, Madhu’s cock swelled up, both from arousal and fear. Perry frowned again.
“I’m sorry… Why are you here?” Madhu asked.
“You know my brother, right? And you a computer programmer?”
“Yeah.”
“Can you teach him?”
“Teach him what?”
“Programming, motherfucker.”
“Uh… I’m not a teacher,” Madhu said.
“I know, but he can’t afford college or nothing like that,” Perry said. “Hs gotta go clean. I ain’t gonna let him end up a thug. I know he can get a job if he programs. I read them tech firms is lookin’ for niggas, cuz they get protested all the time, for being like ninety percent white.”
Madhu scoffed. “Try ninety percent Indian.”
“Well, not ninety percent nigga, that’s for damn sure. They want niggas, and Jerembee’s gonna be one of ‘em,” he said. “I was gonna let you go to town on one of my bitches anytime you want, if you keep givin’ him lessons. I was thinkin’ computer programmers is a bunch of nerds, right? Prolly a virgin, gonna teach Jerembee all kinda shit if he get some nice pussy.”
Madhu shook his head. “That’s gross. And I’m not a virgin. You’re taking advantage of those women.”
“Shut up.”
Madhu’s heart started pounding as he wondered if this meant he was going to get a chance to handle Perry’s meat. He blushed at the thought, and his eyes were inexorably drawn to the crotch of Perry’s crimson slacks. He’d noticed when Perry moved before, Madhu caught a glimpse of a massive bulge there.
Perry put his hands on his hips. “Well, fine, you got me,” he said. He wrinkled his nose. “Whatchoo want? You want me to jerk you off?”
“What? Really?” Madhu had thought maybe he could get a chance to swing on Perry’s cock — these ubermacho thugs sometimes let that happen, on the downlow, and Madhu was all too willing to keep it as downlow as they wanted. But he never thought Perry would be willing to bottom. He wasn’t even sure he had heard that correctly. “You want to bottom?”
“No.” He scoffed. “But I will. If it gets my brother the education he needs.”
“You know how to do it?”
“I can do anything, motherfucker,” he said. “I’m a pimp. You can’t be good at this job if you don’t know e’rything about dick. You gotta be willin’ to sacrifice. And I been locked up. So I done spent my turn on bottom before. Ain’t my preference, but if you’ll give Jerembee lessons, you can stick it in any hole you want, bitch.” He got on his knees, needing to stoop to reach Madhu’s dick.
“Wow, so you’ve done this before?”
“Just twice,” he said as he pulled down Madhu’s pants. “Not by choice. But you know, sometimes in prison the shitty-shit happens, and a nigga gotta bend over.” He was quick and unceremonious, like he just wanted to get this over with, to check the boxes that he had indeed handled Madhu’s dick. He put it one hand and gave it a few rough strokes. “And you best believe, if Perry is gonna give up the booty, it is gonna be fine indeed! I will show my own bitches up, they don’t act right, Madhu, if you can believe it, they do trifle, even though I try to teach ’em. You ever try to teach a woman?”
Madhu inhaled sharply and said, “No. Haven’t. Done. That.” He was still unsure if this was a trap or a trick, though he couldn’t imagine what the point would have been. He watched his dick spring free, already half-hard as much from nervousness as actual arousal. It throbbed in Perry’s hand.
He frowned distastefully at the sight of Madhu’s cock, as though he had been hoping it’d be smaller. He gave it a few long, slow strokes, and he looked up at Madhu as though expecting a big dramatic moan of desire. But Perry’s hand was thick and callused, and Madhu was only beginning to get into.
Madhu’s knees went weak, and he almost lost his balance. He gripped Perry’s thick arm muscles for support, which Perry frowned at but didn’t complain. He got both hands on Madhu’s meat now, one hand holding the root of his cock, the other expertly working the shaft. Despite the discomfort of his rough macho-man’s skin on Madhu’s sensitive dick, he was getting hard, slowly.
“I only did it in prison, when I ain’t have a choice… Cuz that’s just the way it is in there, and when you as sexy as me, you know… prison guards wanna take a whack at’cha. They only got millimeter peters though, mosta ’em, so I don’t count it, you feel me?” He leaned in. “Don’t tell nobody that, ‘specially not my brother.”
“Okay…” Madhu bit his lip. Precum was oozing out the tip of his dick now.
“You look kinda like a girl to begin with, so I’m already likin’ you better than the last one. That was a hairy-ass Italian dude. Smelled like a loaf of bread you forgot about in the backa the pantry.”
“Oh, okay,” Madhu said, holding his breath. He couldn’t really think about what was happening right now enough to formulate a more cogent response. Maybe Perry realized that, cuz he narrowed his eyes in Madhu’s direction.
Then, still kneeling in front of him, Perry opened his mouth. Madhu’s knees went weak again as his dick slipped into Perry’s mouth. He gripped Perry’s bright red fedora for support, holding him so tightly that the fedora fell off, and Madhu clutched Perry’s tight cornrows instead.
His dick got fully hard right away, as Perry’s tongue slicked spit up and down the shaft. Madhu was so shocked by what was happening that he could only look down at it as though it was a computer program that didn’t make any sense. Perry didn’t seem into it, but he didn’t seem to hate it either. He approached it like a non-vegan might eat a vegan lasagna when there was nothing else available. He frowned at it, but he slathered spit all along the shaft, and he didn’t stop to gag once.
Looked like he had to bite back a couple gags though.
Perry didn’t take his red and violet suit off, so his back muscles rippled beneath the fine cloth. He loudly suckled, clenching his throat every few seconds and sending waves of pleasure up Madhu’s spine. This day was not turning out at all like he expected.
“Oh, fuckin’ hell, Perry… Damn,” Madhu said, blushing at how exaggerated his reaction was. He twisted and gasped for air, and he leaned on Perry’s cornrowed head for support.
Perry didn’t stop to say anything, but he murmured around the cock in his throat. Madhu didn’t know what he said, all heard was a moist explosion of syllables. Perry’s grizzled chin scratched against Madhu’s thigh as he nuzzled his nose deep into Madhu’s crotch, and he produced so much spit it dripped onto the floor beneath him. His lips caressed Madhu’s shaft, so expertly that Madhu began to doubt that Perry was as ill-experienced as he had suggested.
Precum leaked down Perry’s throat. He gurgled and made a sour face when he tasted it, but it didn’t slow him down any. Perry grabbed ahold of Madhu’s bare asscheeks, slapping them as though appreciating their plump roundness, even if he couldn’t see them from his position.
Since Perry was so tall, he had to bend way over to get his head in Madhu’s crotch. That meant his broad, strapping back was laid out in front of Madhu. He leaned forward and slipped his hands underneath Perry’s clothes, caressing the man’s smooth, ropy-muscled back.
A humming, moaning sound came from Perry’s throat. He pushed his head all the way down, until his nose was buried in Madhu’s pubic hair. His throat clenched as he gagged out loud for the first time, then pulled away and spat on the floor of Madhu’s kitchen. Madhu was too intensely horny to care about the mess on his floor.
Avoiding eye contact with Madhu, Perry pushed his head between Madhu’s legs — his head was so big it barely fit, and Madhu had to spread his feet to accommodate him. Then Perry swallowed Madhu’s entire ballsack.
The sensitive skin of Madhu’s scrotum tingled, and his knees went weak again. He murmured to himself as he slowly sank to the ground, hips mounting Perry’s face. Since Perry had to struggle to lower his head under Madhu’s crotch, it was easier for him to just lay on his back anyway.
Lifting his balls, Madhu aimed his cock back for Perry’s mouth again. He swallowed it down greedily, as though he enjoyed it even as he gagged at the onrush of salty precum hitting his tongue. Perry was tall, with a big mouth and a cavernous throat, and he swallowed Madhu’s cock easily.
Madhu leaned forward as though to start sixty-nining, but he was nowhere’s near tall enough to actually jerk Perry off. He snuck his hands beneath those violet slacks and stroked his dick, which was, much to Madhu’s surprise, already hard as stone.
They continued like that, faux sixty-nining until Perry slapped Madhu’s perky brown asscheeks. Madhu pulled away, and Perry took a deep gasping breath. He sat up and frowned at Madhu. “How was that?”
“That was… amazing…” Madhu said, looking down at his feet. He was shocked once again as he saw Perry turn around and pull his slacks down. Perry bared his asscheeks, still keeping his shirt, tie and suit jacket on, just lifting them all up enough to show off his plump brown asscheeks.
“I always tell my bitches I could handle dick better than them. Pity they’ll never know. You best not tell no one about this,” Perry said. He thought for a moment. “He gonna ask me when I tell him about this. He gonna want to know if I’m payin’ you.”
“Uh, well…”
“You like niggas? I tell him I gave you Mackdog. He got that disease that make him white, just a bit on his leg. Tell him that.”
“Vitiligo?”
“That’s it, he got that and the biggest dick you ever seen. I ain’t ashamed to admit he packin’ more meat than me. He don’t know how to use it though, and he mess around wit’ any kinda nigga on the downlow. So you tell him you rammed Mackdog. Jerembee will get a laugh outta that,” Perry said, turning his head back to see Madhu. “I’ll tell Mackdog to back it up. He don’t care, he’s a animal.”
“Okay. Mackdog, yeah.”
Madhu felt tiny behind Perry, who was broad-shouldered and wide-assed. He had big round cheeks that Madhu had to stretch on his toes to reach, even with Perry on all fours. As soon as his finger touched the rim, Perry’s hole puckered. He winced even before anything penetrated him.
“You want me to lick your ass first?” Madhu asked.
“Hell yeah, sissy,” Perry said. “If’n you eat ass, eat away. I ain’t nevuh turn down a rimjob.”
Madhu got on his knees and dove in. He loved giving rimjobs, and he especially loved smooth black assholes like Perry’s. He ran his tongue through the asscrack, collecting all the sweat that dripped there. Perry had an intensely masculine musk, with a faintly chocolate flavor which Madhu thought of as the taste of the cocoa butter lotion most black men used.
Then his tongue plunged in to that musty dark hole. Perry lifted his head up and howled, his pride returning now that he wasn’t jerking cock. His body undulated as Madhu lapped at his ass.
Perry’s back arched as he grunted. It sounded like he hadn’t really expected this to feel that good. Madhu was proud of his rimjobbery skills and he beamed, not that anyone could see it. He inhaled noisily. Perry made a proudful sort of moan, and his cock throbbed — Perry was glad to be dominant for at least part and he rubbed his asshole all over Madhu’s face.
He made sure to lick loudly and messily. Madhu loved the sight of a man with spit dripping down his ass, some of it even sliding all the way through his taint and into the messy nest of sweaty pubic hair at the base of his balls. A few drops of that assy saliva even dribbled into the seat of Perry’s nice slacks, which were around his ankles. Madhu hoped he wasn’t going to be furious about that when he saw it later — he seemed like the kind of pimp who hated getting his clothes dirty.
“Ah, damn, you sure you ain’t black, boi? Cuz you eat ass like a nigga!” Perry said loudly. He slapped his hand on the floor as he said it. “Alright then, whiteboi, time to stick it in me. You be gentle, ya hear?”
“Yeah, I will. Just tell me to stop if it hurts too much,” Madhu said.
Perry grumbled as though he didn’t want to do that. Madhu got the impression he didn’t like to show pain. But Perry got back up on all fours and spread his perfectly round asscheeks. His hole twinkled, beckoning Madhu with its temporary looseness.
Madhu stood back up on his toes, slipping the tip of his dick in before Perry’s ass had time to tighten back up after the rimjob. Perry bit his lip and grunted.
Pleasure shot through Madhu’s body like a bullet. He worked his dick in inch by inch, smiling as he saw Perry wince and try to pretend he didn’t feel any pain, or even pleasure. He stayed as stoic as he could, stone-facing there on all fours, his muscles all tensing and relaxing in sync with the thrusts of Madhu’s cock into his ass. The pleasure was even more shameful for him, it seemed, than the vulnerability he showed when he writhed in agony. Behind that agony was the bliss he didn’t dare acknowledge out loud.
But his dick couldn’t lie — or at least, it didn’t lie, as Madhu noticed when he reached around Perry’s body to his cock and stroked it, rock-hard despite the meat in his ass. Perry grunted and held his head down.
Madhu felt his orgasm grow and grow, and though he wanted to delay it, this was too arousing to stop himself. He didn’t know how long he humped there, slamming his dick in and out, smiling as Perry grimaced with every thrust of his hips. It could have lasted for a minute, it could have lasted for hours, Madhu would have had no idea.
Perry squeezed and clenched. He grunted heavily as he endured the pain, but his ass remained loose and his cock pulsated in Madhu’s fingers — it was clear that a part of Perry enjoyed this, he just didn’t want to admit it.
“Uh, god, yeah, give it to me, nigga…”
Muscles writhing beneath the colorful suit he had never taken off, Perry’s grunts of agony turned to gasps of pleasure. His dick leaked precum into Madhu’s fingers as those thick veins in the shaft throbbed with sexual desire. Madhu could feel the cum flowing before he actually shot his load.
They both came at nearly the same time, Madhu just a few seconds earlier. He sprayed his load within Perry, coating his insides in creamy goodness. It was the most intense orgasm of his life, wracking Madhu’s body with uncontrollable pleasure. He bit his lip so hard he drew blood.
Then, without taking his dick out of Perry’s ass, Madhu reached both hands around Perry’s hips. He used both hands to stroke him off, faster and faster as Perry panted heavily. He could already feel the cum flowing, and he could sense through his body when Perry’s balls crawled up in his sac.
At last Perry shot his own load, Madhu’s cock still throbbing limply in his clenched ass. Cum spurted out all over Madhu’s hands, dripping down and onto the floor. Perry writhed in that suit, which was now soaked with sweat and matted against his skin in a few spots — hopefully that meant he wouldn’t notice the stains in the crotch of his pants, Madhu thought.
He pulled out and Perry breathed a sigh of relief. Madhu had him roll over on his back, with Madhu’s cum-coated hand still elevated. Perry winced when he saw it, but he reached for it just the same. He knew exactly what Madhu wanted to do.
He and Madhu both licked it clean, Madhu enthusiastically tonguing every drop, while Perry gagged and choked it down. He sucked on Madhu’s fingers and even let Madhu’s cum-filled mouth kiss him on the lips. It was only when Madhu pushed his luck by trying to put his tongue in Perry’s mouth that Perry pulled away. His smile faded to a sneer.
“Nah, no kissing,” he said. He flopped his dick back into his underwear and pulled his pants up. He finished the last of the drink he had poured for himself, then picked up the bottle of bourbon and chugged from that.
“Thanks, Perry, that was amazing,” Madhu said, blushing. He sounded like a fanboy who finally got to be with his idol, he thought to himself. He tried to stand nonchalantly but failed and just looked awkward. “You’ve got an incredible cock and ass and body.” He thought he should try to puff up Perry’s ego a bit before he left, or who knew how he might overcompensate.
“I know, sissy. Every thing I do, no matter what, it’s always amazin’. That’s the Perry guarantee,” he said, slowly regaining his pimpy cockiness. He even danced a little on his feet. He licked his teeth. “I’m takin’ the resta this bourbon. It’s nice.”
“Oh, well, I’ll do whatever you want if you keep comin’ back,” Madhu said.
“So you’ll teach him?” Perry asked. “I’ll keep coming over every month, as long as you’re still tutorin’ him.”
“We have a deal,” Madhu said.
He smiled and put his fedora back on. “See ya next month then, sissy. Buy lube. And more bourbon.”

Trucker Feet

Miles Palmer Rompenhauer loves feet! When he stumbles across a studly trucker in a diner, he never thought it’d turn into a foot-focused alpha-male explosion that just might be too much for him to bear!

Can he handle his newfound redneck friend’s grimy, filthy, nasty feet?!

Read it now as an ebook!

Or read the whole thing here!

Palmer Rompenhauer smiled at the waitress, Polly, who smiled back at him. She placed the plate of scrambled eggs and bacon in front of him.
“So, Polly, how’s that boyfriend of yours?”
“Oh, he’s darling, sugah. He got a new full-time job, starts next week.”
“Really?! Oh that’s wonderful,” Palmer said even though he didn’t believe it. He was actually annoyed. He had rather hoped Polly’s boyfriend would still be underemployed. He felt bad thinking that. It wasn’t really true, he wished Polly and her man the best of luck, even if that stymied his mission here today. It was just disappointing for it happen right when Palmer had a plan to get what he wanted.
He had come here to the truck stop diner because the world’s most arousing short order cook worked here. He was a big black daddy-type with a marvelous mustache and big stinky feet that Polly had complained about on several occasions.
Palmer liked that. He liked dirty men — and their feet — and Polly had said her boyfriend was dirty to the max. She’d shown him a photo, and Palmer had seen pictures of him on Facebook. Those feet looked so good he could almost taste them through the screen. The funk, the filth, the aroma… It was enough to make Palmer’s dick hard. It didn’t make his dick hard, because he was saving himself — saving himself, he thought, for Polly’s boyfriend.
But now if he got a full-time job. That made it unlikely he would swing on the downlow for a couple dollars.
He had hoped that Polly’s boyfriend would still be stuck in a part-time cook job because then Palmer could pay him to worship his feet. She told Palmer about the full-time job — which sounded like a great opportunity that paid well — and then scurried off to attend to a table of rowdy truckers who needed the check.
That was when the door to the diner opened.
Another, less rowdy trucker walked in, burly and thick, fuzzy hair protruding from the fire-department tee shirt he wore, against which his fleshy arms bulged. He had on camo pants that Palmer could tell from looking at them had been worn so much they were stiff and funky. They were the kind of pants only worn by the kind of man who rarely washes his pants. Truckers often don’t wash their clothes because they are always on the road.
And oh god those feet. The glory of his feet! Palmer couldn’t even see them yet, and already he craved the taste.
The trucker wore heavy hiking boots, jet black and burnished, dull, flecked with muds and pale dots that were seemingly bleach stains. They were going to smell remarkable too. Palmer sniffed the air in hopes that he would catch a whiff of the shoes or the feet encased within them, and maybe he did, or maybe he was imagining it, or maybe it was the feet of one of the other truckers in the diner.
Or maybe it was Polly’s feet. Palmer didn’t like to think about that possibility though. He wasn’t into women’s feet, and women’s feet should be graceful and beautiful. They should smell like tropical fruits and sunshine. Men’s feet should be gnarled and hairy, sweat-soaked, gristly like a cheap steak. That’s what Palmer craved.
The trucker had a tired look on his face, and he stood there at the counter as he scrutinized the menu — that was a sure giveaway of a real trucker who was on a long haul: he didn’t want to spend more time seated right now. He massaged his sore legs as he stood there. He stretched each thigh, and he stood on his toes to stretch his calf muscles.
The trucker leaned over the counter, stretching his thunderous muscles and lifting each leg up one after the other. He glanced at the menu for only a few seconds before ordering something from Polly.
“Sure thing, sugah!” Polly said. Then she nodded at Palmer. “Need anything, Miles?”
“No thanks,” Palmer said. She called him Miles, cuz it was his first name. But most people called him Palmer. Polly was already off to the back of the diner to put in the trucker’s order.
Palmer wondered how he could land a taste of this trucker’s funk. He came across as so filthy that Palmer could already imagine his taste and the flavor and texture of his grime. Every man’s grime is unique, Palmer always said, and he wished to sample them all.
There was dirt in the trucker’s greasy hair, plus a few smudges on his cheek — it looked like he had rolled around in the mud and then showered only very briefly, so there were still clumps of soil attached to him and clinging to his hair. Older dirt stains had been rubbed into the clothes he wore, and his hair was slick and unwashed.
A lot of the truckers were filthy, but not all of them could pull it off. Palmer salivated as he finally caught a whiff of the trucker’s funk — the trucker raised his arm briefly, stretching his shoulders, which bared his armpit long enough for Miles to inhale deeply of the dizzying scent. It was warm and musty, like a cozy library and a campfire had a baby, and Miles wanted to suck up every drop of moisture of the man’s powerful frame.
He was tall and broad-shouldered too. A lot of truckers were pretty fat. He wasn’t big on skinny guys, and Palmer didn’t mind a little heft. That was why he had come here lusting after the cook — a former bodybuilder with biceps to die for — instead of any of the truckers.
But now, he thought, he had an option. This trucker wasn’t fat at all. He was deliciously chunky, and though he didn’t have that cook’s amateur bodybuilder look, he was still appealing. He looked like he might have played football in high school and probably still did it enough with his buddies to stay in shape.
He was built like a truck, with a face that was kind of squashed like he had been hit by a truck and a dull, metallic tone to his voice like a truck Transformer. He had probably been driving a pickup truck since before he could legally get a license.
Palmer had no idea if all those suppositions were true, but it felt right, and he was ready to find out. He left Polly a nice tip, then headed to the counter where that sexy trucker still leaned.
He had ordered oatmeal. Palmer wasn’t sure he had ever seen anyone order oatmeal in a restaurant — he didn’t get it: Why order something you could cook in a microwave in a minute, for a cost of like fifty cents? But still, it was adorable. That trucker shoveled it in his mouth like he was a starving child. His unkempt beard hairs moved up and down, capturing some oatmeal-bits that escaped his lips.
Palmer smiled, heart thumping. “Manky?”
The man looked at him and furrowed his brow. “What? Who are you?”
“My name’s Palmer. Are you the football player they called Manky?”
“Yeah” Manky was obviously proud of being recognized. He blushed. “Cool, uh… Cool.” Then his eyes opened wide. “Oh! You’re the dude I was looking for!”
“What?”
“I was told I should find you, man. You got something I want.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” Manky wolfed down the last of his oatmeal and left some money on the counter. “You got Asian chicks?”
“Asian chicks?” Palmer followed Manky out of the diner and towards the rows of trucks in one side of the parking lot. The roar of the engines was loud here, and Manky had to raise his voice to be heard. But Palmer still didn’t quite catch what he said.
“Tits and that… All over… I’ve got… How do you…?… The back… I’ll do…”
“Oh, uh…”
Manky opened the cab of his truck and climbed in. The little sleeping area behind that looked cozy, with warm blankets and pillow all over, like a tiny opium den. It smelled of alcohol and cheap weed and sweat and Palmer wanted to go in there and cuddle up with Manky.
But Manky waited like he was expecting someone else to join them. Palmer stood at the door, while Manky looked at him expectantly. In the door of the truck, the sound of the idling engines was not as loud, and Palmer could hear Manky more clearly.
“Uh… Where she at?”
“I’m sorry?”
“The Asian chick?”
“What Asian chick?”
“I dunno man, ain’t you got her?”
Palmer shook his head. “I don’t have any Asian chicks.”
“Oh… Well, fine, I guess it doesn’t matter. You got blondes?”
“I think… there’s been a misunderstanding. I don’t have chicks. I’m just… a dude, I don’t have a flotilla of chicks following me around.”
“Oh… You’re not… the guy?”
“I guess not. I am a guy.”
“You’re not a pimp. You know a pimp?”
“A pimp? No.” Palmer shrugged. “Oh, wait, yeah! You mean Slipper? I know Slipper. He ain’t here, he got arrested last week. His girls are all on Craigslist now.” Palmer wished he hadn’t said that because Manky took his phone out and pulled up Craigslist. “Damn it…”
“So wait, if you ain’t think I was buyin’ a ho, why’d you follow me to my truck?” Manky asked. He didn’t look up from his phone until Palmer answered.
“I was hoping to pay you for something…” Palmer said coyly. “I’ll give you five hundred dollars to ram me. There’s a catch though. I-“
“Wait, what?”
“I’ll give you five hundred dollars to cornhole me. You gotta let me jerk you off. You gotta ram me in the ass. And you gotta let me worship your feet.”
There was a long pause. “What…? You mean me?”
“You.”
“Feet?” He lifted his heavy-booted feet up and wiggled it in front of Palmer.
“Feet.”
Manky blushed, the color mostly concealed by his scruffy beard hairs. “I, uh… I guess… Yeah.” He paused. “You ain’t gonna tell no one, is ya?”
“It’s our secret.”
Manky hesitated again. “So… like… you ain’t gotta be real detailed, but uh… do you like… want me to shower first? Or is it like… you-“
“I like it funky. Please do not shower first,” Palmer said.
Manky blanched and laughed to cover up his obvious discomfort. He let Palmer into the cab, and they climbed into the sleeper. It was basically just a bed with a few shelves on the walls for personal belongings, plus a TV mounted above the bed, though it didn’t appear to be hooked up to anything at the moment.
Manky laid himself out on the bed. He was trying to look casual. He didn’t want Palmer to think he was desperate or frightened, after all.
A lot of truckers spoke of messing around with males on the road. It was common. A lot of truck stops had male “lot lizards” — addicts would do any guy for a place to sleep and a hot meal. Manky wasn’t into that. He could often land a free woman, or failing that, a prostitute — his trucking route kept him on main routes where there were usually prostitutes available.
So he had never partaken. Older guys would do whatever it took to get their rocks off on the road. They said things like “it’s all pink in the dark” and “a hole’s a hole” and “it don’t count if you’s on the road”.
Manky didn’t say things like that. He was not part of that older generation.
“So, uh… what do you… do?” Manky asked, his voice trailing off because Palmer was already getting started. He hadn’t been immediately aware of that because he didn’t feel Palmer’s fingers on his boots, and Manky never really looked at his feet for that kind of thing.
But Palmer had already bent over and kissed the bleachy leather of Manky’s heavy black boots. They stank of cleaning solvents and mud and sweat, that last of which smelled so intense that Palmer let out a long, cringing moan.
“Damn…” Manky frowned like he was surprised to see this really happening. He found an old DVD player on a shelf — it wasn’t kept hooked up to the TV because Manky didn’t have a long enough cord. He had to rest the DVD player on the bedspread in order to plug it into the TV. He tried to ignore Palmer slathering his boot with kisses as he put in an Asian-chick porn. It wasn’t actually his favorite video, but this situation was already awkward enough that Manky didn’t want any penises on his screen.
That black boot was cold and salty. Palmer untied it as he licked it from tip to heel. The leather was old and worn, but it was real leather, not plastic, so that just made it better. Palmer could see the time-worn creases where the material bent frequently, right over the toes mainly, but also up by the ankle, on the side.
When he slipped it off, he struggled a bit, it was a tight fit and a heavy boot. It finally popped off and there was an audible, almost visible wave of footy funk that wafted into Palmer’s face.
“Aaaaaaaaaaah….” Palmer let out a long moan that overpowered the sound of the Asian women eating each other out onscreen. He could taste the foot aroma that came in waves over his face. He chomped at the air to eat it — that made him giggle, especially the way Manky scrupulously faced away and ignored him.
Palmer untied his second boot too and pulled it off, again sniffing loudly and savoring the astringent scent of his unwashed foot. It filled the air of the truck’s living quarters. Palmer wallowed in it, rubbing his nose through the dense fabric of both socks.
Manky’s dick twitched. He didn’t know why, and he didn’t show it because it was embarrassing — he told himself it was because of the porn. But a part of him worried that he was beginning to enjoy this foot-worship.
It was weird, he thought as Palmer pulled his dirty socks off, baring his big, meaty feet with a few highly visible hairs on the top. It was making his dick semi-hard anyway. Manky’s girlfriends often complained about his “hairy feet”, which he thought was unfair — they really weren’t hairy. There was a tuft of hair right on the bony part on the top of each foot, but it was maybe twenty hairs total. They were highly visible because they were jet-black and coarsely-textured.
His feet always smelled bad too. More than one girlfriend had said she wouldn’t have sex with him if he took his shoes off. He’d seen a doctor at one point, but the cream he was given didn’t do anything. Manky just avoided taking his shoes off as much as he could, and he wore these heavy boots all the time because they were basically airtight — he didn’t realize that tight boots meant the inside was warm and slightly moist, the perfect environment to make his feet smell even worse.
Or, from Palmer’s perspective, better.
He sucked the funk off those hairs and moaned at the sour, salty taste. His hands roamed up Palmer’s calves, and he massaged his leg through those camo pants. Manky took off his shirt unprompted, then gulped and pulled his pants off when Palmer asked him to.
Just think of the money, Manky reminded himself. It was weird to feel Palmer’s tongue on his feet. It was like getting a bath from a cat, he thought. It was off-putting but not exactly unpleasant. He just wished Palmer had wanted nothing more than to jerk him off — that would have been easier to endure. Just a handjob. No big deal.
Manky’s foot was ungodly funky. Palmer loved it. It was like mainlining sweat. He could taste every inch of Manky’s body, like the sweat he sucked down had collected all the flavors of his hairy redneck frame as it trickled to his feet.
Palmer’s hand gripped Manky’s cock, without removing his tongue from the bottom of Manky’s left foot. Manky’s whole body shook and his eyes opened wide, but he forced himself to remain focused on the porno. His dick had been on the verge of full erection for so long, twitching and throbbing in his dirty boxers, that he was virtually ready to explode as soon as Palmer finally touched it.
“Oh goddamn…” Manky’s deep voice echoed in the tiny living area. He stretched his legs, but he was too tall, so his feet bumped into the metal side. Pleasure spasmed through his body, and he held his breath through clenched teeth.
“Hmmm… You taste so good…” Palmer sucked down every drop of funk before letting his tongue run a trail up Manky’s hairy legs.
Manky was already on the verge of blowing his load. The delay had made him so horny he could burst.
His cock tasted like his foot, but a little cleaner. Palmer giggled at the taste and the sight of Manky’s ruddy face looking down at him — finally Manky was willing to tear his eyes away from the women onscreen.
“Shit, man, goddamn!” Manky shouted. He grabbed ahold of Palmer’s head and guided it down deep on his dick, until Palmer’s nose nuzzled his unkempt pubic hair. Palmer loved that — so many young men these days shaved their crotches, which Palmer found unappealing — he liked that big hairy bush and the stale scent it always had. Most men trimmed though because it made their dick look bigger since less of it was concealed by pubic hair. Manky had such a huge dick he didn’t need to worry about that.
His cock throbbed, precum flowing in Palmer’s throat. Manky would have been fine with cumming directly into Palmer’s throat, but Palmer had said he wanted anal.
The best thing about anal, from Palmer’s perspective, was that he could worship a man’s foot at the same time. If Palmer bent over, with his ass high and his face on the ground, a man could ram him in the ass with his feet near enough to Palmer’s face that he could step on his head if he wanted to — which Palmer would often beg his men to do.
That was difficult in this setting though. The tiny sleeper wasn’t big enough for Manky to stand up.
“Here, can you lean back right here? I’ll back up, see?” Palmer arranged Manky to sort of squat in one corner. It was awkward and ungainly and it stretched Manky’s legs — but that wasn’t a bad thing, he was always looking for opportunities to exercise his knees. It was only Manky’s calf muscles that kept him aloft.
Manky had only fucked one woman in the ass successfully — many backed out when they saw how big his dick was, but he had one girlfriend who loved it. So Manky was inexperienced with actually getting his cock into someone’s ass.
“Damn it, man, hold still,” Manky said. Palmer had trouble keeping himself in position because he was more interested in nuzzling Manky’s foot than in getting it up the ass. But he spread his cheeks and backed himself up to meet Manky’s cock.
A jolt of pain hit him, and Palmer lifted his head, just out of reach of Manky’s foot. As Manky drilled in, a little hesitant at first, Palmer lowered his head again despite the intense sensations coursing through his veins. There was an intense pressure in his ass, Manky’s entire girthy manhood stretching him to accommodate it.
At last, Manky was in him, and Palmer’s tongue was on the hairy top of Manky’s foot. It smelled more of spit than anything else now, but Palmer could still sense the podiatric funk emanating off it and enveloping his face in its goodness.
Manky had never felt anything like this. He whooped and hollered. His foot sent little shocks of pleasure up his body, which surprised him — he’d never been into his feet being worshiped before.
But he couldn’t deny that that tongue on his foot was somehow more pleasurable than any of the women he’d ever fucked. It wasn’t just the foot, but that definitely felt good — even more than that it was how Manky could simply ram as hard as he wanted. Palmer seemed willing to take anything, and indeed was more focused on Manky’s foot than the cock splitting his ass open.
Manky could use all of his power and his weight to piston his dick in and out, making the entire sleeper cab shake as he orgasmed deep in Palmer’s ass. Palmer clenched down on him, moaning into his feet, tongue lolling out over his toes.
Cum sprayed into Palmer’s ass, great gobs of creamy juices that had built up in his week or so on the road since he last blew his wad. Manky roared and pounded on his chest with one hand, while his other kneaded the flesh of Palmer’s asscheeks.
“Oh god!” Palmer moaned, his voice breaking. Waves of intense sensation wracked his body, and his hands tightened into claws that dug into the firm flesh of Manky’s body.
Manky just grunted, the sound loud and resonant in Palmer’s ear, a grunt that turned into an ear-aching moan.
Palmer squirmed as cum filled him up. He felt it seeping through his flesh and soaking into his body. Exquisite ecstasy coursing through his veins, Palmer shot his own load too, right into his hand. He hadn’t cum or even gotten a hardon since his setting out for the diner — hadn’t even thought about it — but now that he was with Knuckle, Palmer felt the stress melt away. A long chest-rattling moan chambered out of his chest, and still more and more jizz poured out of him. When he had finished, he let it slip out and onto the top of Manky’s foot. It plopped there hotly and Palmer’s tongue snaked out to slurp it all up. Manky watched with a shocked, disgusted look on his face, but this all felt too good to worry about a little cum on his bare foot.
“Well, shit, man,” Manky said with a chuckle. “You gonna pay me, right? Don’t stiff me.” He now thought he should have got the money upfront, but it was too late now. He was spent, breathless and sweaty, his chest hair matted to his skin.
“I won’t,” Palmer said. He curled up into Manky’s heavy arms. He sucked salty sweat off his bicep as he pulled out his wad of cash. It was all twenties and he knew exactly how much it was — five hundred dollars. But Palmer still made a big show of counting it anyway, because he liked being the center of Manky’s attention, and anyway, Manky expected him to count it. Palmer settled himself, ensconced in Manky’s sweaty arms, as he counted out the twenty dollar bills.
When he handed over the wad of dollars, Manky took the cash and grunted. Palmer picked up his limp dick and kissed the tip, then slurped off the fluids clinging to it. It was funky like Manky’s foot, but assy, moist and goopy. Palmer teased it with his tongue, making Manky throw his head back and moan.
“Shit, man… you wanna spend the night in my sleeper here wit’ me?” Manky said with an awkward grunt. It was hard enough to ask a girl out, he thought, asking a guy to spend the night in his sleeper was even harder.
But he was confident Palmer would say yes, and indeed Palmer giggled and nuzzled his chest even closer. His hand massaged Manky’s body.
“Thanks,” Palmer said. “I’m glad I ran into you. You have the greatest trucker funk I’ve ever tasted.” That was true, and Palmer was eager to spend the night here with him. The sleeper was rank with footiness and Palmer couldn’t wait to marinate in Manky’s body all night long.

The Pimp

Avery is in a new apartment, and his neighbor is a pimp. Slim Jay don’t play around, so when his ho proves recalcitrant, he seeks out Avery for a no-holds-barred exploration of dominance, submission and one nasty rimjob!

Can Avery satisfy his new neighbor?!

Read it now as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here

Avery’s back ached. He hated moving, and it seemed like he did it all the time these days. He had moved four times in the past five years. He was never fully moved into his previous apartment. Now this time, he felt confident, would be his last for awhile. It was a nice place, plenty big for him and in a nice neighborhood.
It was only on his last trip up the stairs with a trash bag full of towels and a few odds and ends that Avery saw a black pimp sauntering into the building in front of him. He was a tall, powerfully built man with a broad-shouldered frame, wearing a brilliant chartreuse suit, tapping with a jeweled cane as he walked. He had a handsome face marred by a recent scar slashing across his cheek and left eye.
“What’s crackin’, homeslice?” the pimp said, holding the door open for Avery. “You the new whomdiddy, huh?”
Avery nodded. “Yeah, guess. My name’s Avery.” He shook hands with the jive-heavy pimp, who was dipping and dapping up and down even when he stood still. Once they shook paws though, he turned around and did his dippy-dappy pimp walk towards the stairwell.
“Nice to meet ya, nice to greet ya!” he called out, his booming voice echoing in the lobby. Avery followed him up the stairs. “My name’s Slim Jay.”
“Oh, okay-“
“Now I got a deal for ya, honky,” he said. “I give every motherfucker in this buildin’ the same deal — I know you prolly don’t like living with a pimp, but don’t you worry, I don’t bring my work home with me. My hos be in hotels, nigga. Nice ones too. I’s a classy nigga, see? So we cool, right?”
He held out a fist, which Avery bumped awkwardly. “Uh, yeah, I guess-“
“So what kinda girl you like? That’s my deal. You get a one-time freebie. You like Asian girls, I bet. You look like the kinda white man who’s into Asian girls.”
“No…” Avery hesitated.
“Go on, you can tell me,” Slim Jay said. He smiled. “I got anything you want, man. ‘Cept for children, I don’t mess wit’ that. I got fat chicks. I got this nasty old lady too, you like old bitches?”
“No, no…” Avery said.
“You into freaky shit? I got two chicks who’ll lick ya asshole, honky.”
“Uh, no. No thanks,” Avery said.
“Okay, then, you prolly wanna swing on my meat, huh? You-“
“Hell yeah!” Avery blushed. He didn’t mean to sound so desperate. But he did love servicing thugs like Slim Jay, and he couldn’t resist his own enthusiasm. He had often had good luck in seducing thugs too, it was a sort of superpower that Avery had developed over the years.
Slim Jay stopped and glared at him. “Motherfucker, do not interrupt me. I ain’t gonna slap you since you ain’t my bitch, and I don’t normally hit civilians. But do not interrupt me again, or I may have to reconsider that. Got it, motherfucker?”
“Uh, yeah, okay. Sorry, Slim Jay,” Avery said.
“I was gonna say that you can prolly get me drunk and take my dick out sooner or later, but I’m mostly sober now, and I can get a female over here anytime,” he said. He stopped in front of his apartment door, slapped hands with Avery and then paused. “I let you kiss it. You wanna kiss it? Just a kiss.”
“Uh, okay,” Avery said. He followed Slim Jay into the sumptuously decorated apartment, decked out with gold lace. It looked exactly like Avery would have guessed a pimp’s home looked, with ornate jeweled goblets and bottles of cognac scattered about, multicolored clothes draped over the furniture and floor. It smelled like cologne and sweat. Not female sweat either. Slim Jay didn’t bring his bitches back to his apartment. It smelled like male sweat.
Slim Jay took a massive cock out the fly of his slacks. He smiled at Avery’s shocked expression. “Big as shit, huh? You like it? You prolly wanna jack me off.”
“Yeah, I do.” Avery hefted Slim Jay’s cock in one hand, and he kissed the tip as wetly and moistly as he could manage, making spit run down the shaft. He hoped to get Slim Jay so aroused he agreed to let Avery jerk him off, but after just a quick half-stroke of his hand, Slim Jay pulled away.
He smacked his cock over Avery’s face as hard as he could, and it was so thick and meaty it almost hurt a little, not that Avery was complaining.
“You freaky as shit, huh?” Slim Jay said as though a little surprised, like he had thought Avery might prove himself to be after all. “You can beg me fo’ it. I think about it. Maybe you change my mind.”
“Oh, please, Slim Jay, let me jerk you off. Let this little whiteboy swallow it. I’ll deep-throat it the best I can-“
“I know that, motherfucker, I’d throat you. I will slam that shit down, honky,” he said. Then he tucked his cock away. “Nah, I ain’t into that shit. Go on, git,” Slim Jay said. He snorted and wrinkled his nose. “Nice try though.”
Avery stood with a weary shrug. He had thought this was going to work. He was pretty good at getting alpha thugs like Slim Jay to let him swing on their meat, and he had suspected that Slim Jay planned on saying yes all along, just needing to protect his self-image by pretending he had to be convinced. Avery made sure to shake his ass though, as he walked out, and he felt sure that Slim Jay watched.
There was still time.
But it wasn’t all bad — he really did want to get moved into his new place; he hated being in limbo, between homes. He hurried to his apartment just down the hall, trash bag of towels and some clothes, mainly socks, in tow, and set to work emptying his bags and boxes. By the time he went out to pick up dinner and came back, he had nearly forgotten about Slim Jay.
The movers were coming with the mattress and a few other big things tomorrow, so Avery set up the air mattress for tonight. He hooked up his monitor to his laptop, fired up an episode of Fawlty Towers and devoured his meal of fried rice and steamed dumplings. He was so tired he didn’t feel hungry until he ate, but his muscles remained exhausted from a day of carrying virtually everything he owned up the stairs to this new place. Once he tucked in, he ate ravenously. Then the food made him sleepy, so he crawled to his air mattress and slipped into slumber.
There was a knock on the door. It was almost ten o’clock at night, so Avery jumped and his heart thumped into wakefulness. He tiptoed to the door so he could still pretend not to be home. He looked through the peephole and saw Slim Jay standing there.
He opened the door. Slim Jay burst in past him, smelling of cognac. He eyed Avery suspiciously.
“Told you, honky,” he said. “My bitches pissed me off tonight. They ain’t barely make any cheddah, and then when I tells ‘em to lick my asshole, they complain like whiny bitches. You lick asshole, right?”
“Uh… Yeah.” Avery yawned.
“Good. Get on yo’ back on the ground,” he said. He slammed the door behind himself.
Avery was shocked — this was all happening so suddenly — but he wasn’t about to say no. He laid on his back on the floor.
“Open yo’ mouth, and stick yo’ tongue out,” Slim Jay said. He spat as though upset Avery hadn’t read his mind and already done so.
Avery licked his lips and got into position. He loved eating ass, and he suspected Slim Jay had a perfect one. Much to his surprise though, Slim Jay just looked down at him. He put his jeweled cane on Avery’s chest, as though he was going to use him for support, but didn’t actually put any weight on the cane.
“You want it, bitch?”
“Yes! Please god, let me lick your ass! And your cock! And-“
“Shut the hell up, stop listing body parts,” Slim Jay said. He swayed like he was drunk, and his breath reeked of sweet cognac. “Don’t move.”
Avery stayed right there with his mouth open, tongue sticking as far out as he could manage. Slim Jay looked at him for what felt like a long time, then walked away. He took a tour of the apartment. He opened the refrigerator and groaned at the sight of its emptiness.
“You ain’t bought food yet?”
“No, sorry,” Avery called out from his spot on the floor.
“Get beer,” he said. “Malt liquor. I want you to keep a forty here all the time. If I’mma let you take my dick, you gotta have malt liquor for me. Got it? Also cognac. Get a bottle of cognac.”
“Yes, Slim Jay,” Avery said.
He took a deep breath. “I go get another cognac from my joint. You owe me though. Go buy a bottle tomorrow to replace it,” he said. “You got a dildo here?”
“Uh… yeah…” Avery said. “Over there.” He pointed to a box in the corner of the living room.
Slim Jay nodded. “Go get it. Put it in yo’ ass, boy. Start loosenin’ yo’self up,” he said. “I be right back.”
Then he walked out the door, leaving it wide open so anyone who walked by would see Avery hurry to the box and get out the dildo. It was a tiny one, a nondescript purple cylinder. He got back in position on the floor, opened his mouth and slipped the dildo in his ass. It hurt for just a moment, then his ass loosened.
Slim Jay walked back in with a bottle of cognac and one of those jeweled goblets from his apartment. He filled his cup, then put the bottle down. He got on his knees, lifted up Avery’s legs and peered at the dildo in his ass. He pushed it in all the way, and he smiled when Avery spasmed in both pain and pleasure.
“You saw my dick, right? I got big nigga meat, you saw that,” Slim Jay said. “This dildo ain’t big enough to get you ready fo’ me.”
“That’s the only one I got,” he said.
Slim Jay shrugged. “Whatevuh, it’s yo’ problem. Gonna hurt like hell when I ram you. I don’t do it nice, just so’s you know. It’s gonna hurt real bad.”
“Okay, Slim Jay. I like it hard.”
“I bet you do,” he said with a sneer. He pulled his sweatpants down to his knees and let that slab of meat flop out. He kneeled over Avery’s face, pointing his crotch down at Avery’s open mouth.
He pushed his dick in Avery’s throat. When Avery gagged, he flexed his hips to push his cock in even harder. Avery choked, but Slim Jay grunted as he tried to force it farther. Avery’s throat loosened, and his nose nestled in Slim Jay’s kinky black pubic hairs.
Slim Jay smiled. “Ah, fuck, boy, you swallow dick good, damn! Why can’t females get they throat open like you. I gotta work on stretchin’ them out, but you all ready to go.”
Avery gagged uncontrollably. He was laying on his back on the carpeted floor, while Slim Jay humped his throat. Slim Jay wrapped his arms around Avery’s body, seemingly unaware that the position put Slim Jay’s face right between Avery’s legs. Avery’s rock-hard cock pressed through his thin pants into Slim Jay’s body, but Slim Jay didn’t seem to care.
“Keep yo’ throat open, boy. Make some mo’ spit. Make some mo’ spit,” he repeated himself a few more times, then slammed his dick down all the way. Avery choked, but he stayed in position. “You ain’t listenin’, boi, do I got yo’ attention now? Slap my ass cheek one time if you understand me?” Avery’s lungs cried out for air, and his hard cock demanded attention. Slim Jay was so close to it. Avery forced his flailing hand to smack Slim Jay’s asscheeks once. “Good. I tol’ you to make mo’ spit. You wasn’t listenin’ so I had to get yo’ attention by chokin’ you. Always listen to me when you got my dick in yo’ mouth.”
Then he pulled out, and patiently waited while Avery gasped hoarsely. Avery heaved for breath, but Slim Jay held his head in position just below Slim Jay’s dick. His balls still rested on Avery’s nose.
“Now make some spit, boi,” Slim Jay said. Avery loudly retched up saliva, and kept going until Slim Jay nodded his approval. Avery opened his mouth to show it off. Slim Jay plunged his fat dick right in. “That’s how you do nice sloppy dome. That’s usually what I want, whiteboy.”
Once he got a rhythm going, Slim Jay was relentless. He picked his hips all the way up so his cock was right above Avery’s face, thick tendrils of spit connecting it to Avery’s mouth. Then he plunged back in all the way. Every thrust of his hips was equally powerful, and he demanded Avery deep-throat it every single time.
“Don’t worry, I ain’t forget about that rimjob,” Slim Jay said. “Beg me for it.”
Avery waited for Slim Jay to pull out of his mouth, but he didn’t. Slim Jay planted his hips all the way down on Avery’s face, so his pendulous balls rested on Avery’s nose. He repeated his command. “Beg me for it.”
So Avery said I wanna lick your ass the best he could with his mouth full. Of course all that came out was a muffled gagging sound, which made Slim Jay laugh. He pulled out and used both hands to keep Avery’s head on the ground, not allowing him to buck and retch. As a result, the torrent of spit and precum in Avery’s mouth just spilled out his cheeks. Slim Jay frowned.
Then he stood over Avery, pulled down his thick pants and revealed a big, wide ass. He squatted over Avery’s face so that his asscheeks separated. Avery could see and smell that beautiful musky hole just inches from his face.
Slim Jay hesitated before dropping his hips the rest of the way. But at last he did so, and Avery’s open mouth enveloped his hot ass. It turned out that he had hesitated because he pulled out his cell phone and made a call.
“Yo, bitch,” he said into the phone. A female’s tired voice came out of the speaker. Avery couldn’t hear the words, but it was apparent he had woken up a ho. He said, “Don’t pretend you sleepin’, bitch. I know you probably fuckin’ wit’ some nigga, you goddamn slut. Don’t gimme that shit.” He crossed his arms over his chest. Avery plunged his tongue deep into Slim Jay’s ass, tickling his prostate as he felt Slim Jay’s whole body shake. “I got this female lickin’ my asshole, bitch. She loves it. Gonna make her my new bottom bitch, I think.” The woman on the other end responded with either fear or anger or both, Avery couldn’t quite hear the details, but it was obvious she was upset. Slim Jay chuckled quietly enough that she couldn’t hear. “You wanna listen? She makin’ noise.”
Avery blushed. Slim Jay put the phone up next to his ass, and Avery licked as loudly as he could. He suckled on Slim Jay’s rectum as though trying to get the last bit of milkshake out of a straw. He wiggled his tongue, blowing a raspberry that made a grim fluttering sound. Slim Jay’s body shuddered with pleasure.
“So whatchoo think bitch?” Slim Jay said, bringing the phone back to his ear. “I don’t wanna hear no ‘pology. You know where T-Boy lives, right?” He laughed as the woman made a disgusted sound. “Shut the fuck up! You wanna stay my bottom bitch, you go to T-Boy’s right now. Yeah, he still fat. He even fatter I think. Go’n and wake him up. Give him a rimjob. I don’t give a shit, he probably will fart on your face, bitch. You deserve it. You tell him to call me once you done. I ask him if you give a good rimjob. If he don’t give it at least a nine outta ten, I ain’t gonna keep you on as my bottom bitch. I’ll cut you loose, slut.”
Slim Jay held the phone away from his ear. He laughed at the woman’s frenzied begging. He lifted himself off Avery’s face, put a finger to his lips and then lowered himself over Avery’s ass.
“Go on, bitch. Go to T-Boy. The longer you wait, the nastier his ass is gonna be. He don’t take showers at night,” Slim Jay said. Then he hung up the phone and put it back in his pocket. “You into fat dudes, whiteboy?”
“Uh, no.”
“Good, that shit’s gross,” he said. “That bitch. She gonna try to kiss me tomorrow too, I know it. Gonna slap the teeth outta that bitch.”
Without a word of warning — and without having ever asked if it was okay, not that Avery would complain — Slim Jay pushed his dick right into Avery’s ass. Avery was still laying on his back on the floor, so Slim Jay had to drop his crotch awkwardly on him. At first he kept his chest away as though he didn’t want to come into any more contact with Avery’s body than he had to, but after the first inch or two disappeared into Avery’s ass, he grimaced and lowered himself.
His whole body pinned Avery down. Slim Jay wrapped his arms around Avery’s face. “You like it rough, whiteboy.”
“Yes, Slim Jay.”
“That wasn’t a question,” he said. Then he slammed his cock all the way in. Avery screamed out in pain. For a moment, he though he wouldn’t be able to take this. The agony was too intense.
But he almost always thought that when bottoming, especially with someone who had a big dick on top. As always, however, after a few pumps of the top’s cock, Avery’s ass loosened. His prostate came alive, and Avery grunted loudly. He tried to stroke his own dick, but Slim Jay slapped his hand away.
“Nah,” he said. “When I’m rammin’ you, you should be focusin’ on nothing but that. This ain’t ’bout you. No jacking off.”
Treating him like a ragdoll, Slim Jay rammed harder than Avery thought possible. Slim Jay pushed Avery into the ground as though trying to shove him into the apartment down below. He ground his cock in Avery’s ass, and when Avery shook with pain, Slim Jay kept plowing in that direction to make sure it hurt.
“Anal should hurt the bitch who’s takin’ it,” Slim Jay said over and over. “If’n it don’t hurt, you either doin’ it wrong or you is inside’ a real loose slut.”
“Yes, Slim Jay. It hurts,” Avery said. “Can I please jack off?”
Slim Jay gripped his neck from behind, squeezing just enough that Avery had to focus to breathe. Slim Jay didn’t actually answer, but it was clear what his answer was: no.
Slim Jay had never taken his shirt off, so Avery felt the man’s strapping muscles writhe through the fabric. Avery’s own back was bare, squirming as pain and pleasure wracked his body. Slim Jay pressed his chest down harder as he neared his own orgasm. He nibbled on Avery’s earlobe.
“Normally, I’d make you take my load in yo’ mouth,” Slim Jay said breathlessly. For the first time since this began, he actually sounded like he was ramming — he had that tight, pinched tone to his voice. “Real gangstas always get ass-to-mouth. But yo’ ass is just perfect, whiteboy. So I’m gonna cum inside you.”
“Yes, Slim Jay.”
“When you feel me cumming, you shout out my name, okay?”
“Uh, what?”
Slim Jay smacked his cheek lightly. His face was just inches from Avery’s, and Avery had the feeling that Slim Jay would even kiss him if Avery’s face weren’t covered in assjuice. Slim Jay sneered.
“You havin’ trouble payin’ attention, boy,” Slim Jay said. “I don’t like that. You pay attention to my words. When you feel me cumming inside yo’ little bitch-ass, you shout out my name. You don’t stop shouting until I’m done cumming. Got it?”
“Uh, yeah. Yes, Slim Jay,” Avery said. He didn’t yet know how thin these walls were, but he guessed he was about to find out.
Moments later Slim Jay’s body shook. He stopped humping for just a second, then began again with renewed vigor. A fresh bout of pain shot through his body. Avery screamed
He tried to say Slim Jay as he screamed, but the bliss and the agony were too intense to form real words. It ended up being consonant-less cry. Hiiiiii-hu Haaaaa-aaay! Slim Jay shot an incredibly huge load, which kept flowing and flowing, so Avery had to concentrate to keep shouting the whole time.
At last it was over. Slim Jay was laying on Avery’s back, his entire weight pinning Avery down. His hot cum congealed as it seeped into, and out of, Avery’s body. His dick sat, rock-hard still, in Avery’s asshole.
“How was that, whiteboy?”
“Oh god yes, please come back again,” Avery said. Tears twinkled in his eyes. “I’ll get malt liquor and cognac. I promise. Any kind you want.”
“You can surprise me, just don’t buy cheap shit,” Slim Jay said. He paused, then whispered in Avery’s ear. “You been a good sport. You like my dick in yo’ ass, huh, whiteboy?”
“Yeah!”
“You like nigga dick?”
“Yeah!”
“Say it.”
“I like-” Avery hesitated, instinctually unsure whether he could say nigga. When Slim Jay laughed at his hesitation, Avery blurted it out. “I like nigga dick! I like your nigga dick!”
Slim Jay smacked his cheek. “You callin’ me a nigger, whiteboy?”
“No, I-“
“Shut up,” Slim Jay said. He sat up, but took Avery with him, so his now-limpening cock remained deep in Avery’s ass. He wrapped his powerful arms around Avery’s bare chest. “Since you been good to me tonight, and you licked my ass like a champion, I’mma let you jack off now, wit’ my nigga meat inside you. You don’t tell no one, yeah?”
“Okay, I promise. I won’t tell anyone,” Avery said. He grabbed for his cock, which was stiff and straining, already near orgasm even though he hadn’t touched it.
Slim Jay bristled uncomfortably as though Avery’s ass had squeezed around his sensitive cock. It was enormously painful, and the pleasure emanating from his ass was now only a dull ache. Slim Jay had such a huge cock that even soft it felt like he was being fisted.
But as soon as he touched his own dick, climactic energy sprayed throughout him. Avery’s prostate burst into life, and leaned back into Slim Jay’s muscular arms.
“Nasty…”
Cum spurted from Avery’s cock. It sprayed over the floor and Avery’s fingers. Avery felt his asshole squeeze around Slim Jay’s rod, which made his muscles all shudder with post-orgasmic pleasure. Avery writhed in Slim Jay’s well-muscled arms.
When it was at last all over, Slim Jay wasted no time in dropping Avery, who collapsed in a sweaty pile on his own load of cum. He laid there, looking behind himself as Slim Jay stood up. He took ahold of the sheet Avery had been using with his air mattress, then wiped the assjuice off his cock.
He put his dick back in his sweatpants, gathered his cane, then stepped right on Avery’s back as he walked to the door. “Good job, bitch. You wanna take dick for money?” He stopped on Avery’s back.
Straining to speak with so much weight on him, Avery only shook his head.
“Pity,” Slim Jay said. “If you ever decide to do it, lemme know. I could make bank off you. I’ll see you next time, neighbor.”

She was a high-yellow female with wide hips and tits you can believe in, a pussy that goes on and on and legs that connect her feet to a delicious ass.

She stood like a shapely traffic cone in the doorway to one the apartments on the second floor of Brentwood. It was a trash-high shithole, and she shimmied in her slinky dress like she was unaware of the trashy environs when she peeped her eyes upon his handsomeness Slim Jay.

He stopped at Brentwood Apartments. He gots a situation to deal with. One his bitches called his cell — not a text, she phoned. That’s how you know it’s serious. He told his bitches to call if they got troubles. Texts is for trifles.
The bitch was Bethlyn. She was a high-yellow female with wide hips and tits you can believe in, a pussy that goes on and on and legs that connect her feet to a delicious ass. Her body be thick but not fat, real nice. And she was only twenty-something, so she got years of tautness in her tang. She stood like a shapely traffic cone in the doorway to one the apartments on the second floor of Brentwood. It was a trash-high shithole, and she shimmied in her slinky dress like she was unaware of the trashy environs when she peeped her eyes upon his handsomeness Slim Jay.
“Hmmm, hi baby, love you,” she said when Slim Jay arrivated in the apartment. He gave her a nigga nod but strode in on the lookout for a jiving john.

From Slim Jay the Pimp

Slim Jay the Pimp

Slim Jay is a hardcore pimp who don’t take no guff from nobody, and that includes his hos, his neighbors and anyone else he meets! That all might change when he meets a twinky young man named Sammy, who sends Slim Jay’s heart a-thumping!

But Slim Jay’s got a rep to maintain! Can he get his rocks off with Sammy without losing face?!

Read it now!