The Officer

Desmond is a trustee at the local police station, and that means he gets his pick of alpha-male cop meat… except for the studly Officer Savillano.

Until one day Savillano himself arranges a meetup. His wife is sick, and he is desperate to get a load off, which Desmond is all too happy to help with!

Can Officer Salazar Savillano find the sweet release he craves?!

Read it now as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

The storage closet was dim and dark. Desmond Talley hurried in, then tried to switch the light on. The door shut as he flicked the switch. The light didn’t turn on. The closet remained pitch-black.
“Damn it,” he muttered to himself. “Nothing in this place works right.” He grabbed for the doorknob to reopen the door — just enough to get some light in so he could see.
But the door swung open before he could, and Officer Savillano walked in, quickly, quietly shutting the door behind himself as though he didn’t want anyone to see him come in here. Desmond caught a whiff of his cologne, which was potent and spicy, warm, musky, pungent, like the jockstrap of a very clean Chinese sailor.
Desmond had been in the jailhouse at Precinct 17 for a couple weeks, and he’d found it mind-crushingly dull. He had always greatly admired the male form, and he thought the one bright spot of going to prison was that the men would have marvelous physiques. That might be true in prison — Desmond hadn’t gone yet — but in a jail, it seemed, like the jailhouse here, the average inmate was sixty-four, sickly, fat and possessing a cock like a mosquito bite. Desmond was not into it. The one genuinely handsome guy he got to share a cell with at all was a male stripper (a bit of a prettyboy, but Desmond wasn’t going to complain) who was also literally piss-drunk. Desmond wasn’t into molesting unconscious prettyboys who stank of urine.
But the one bright spot was Officer Salazar Savillano.
That’s because Savillano was a thick-limbed amateur bodybuilder, with a craggy face, square jaw and an intense, stawk-laden accent like a Bronx cabbie. He was short, about Desmond’s height, and he carried around his muscles like he stole them from a much taller man. He had a harsh voice like he gargled with cigarette butts, which made the other cops call him a goblin.
“Yo, hey man, hey,” Officer Savillano said, whispering, his double-barreled voice resonating in the tiny closet, into which he followed Desmond.
The jailhouse was quiet because it was night-time in the middle of the week, no crowds of revelers in the drunk tank, no convention at the hotel filling up with desperate men and desperate hos, no holidays right now to drink at then drive home. It promised to be a night of quiet dullness at Precinct 17.
Except for this one dalliance in the closet, wherein Desmond got so close to Savillano he could smell both his cologne and the medical-grade deodorant he wore underneath it.
Savillano was the only officer on duty right now, though the kitchen crew was in the other room cleaning up for the night. Desmond wasn’t in his cell because he was a prefect now, which meant he was allowed out to work in the jailhouse. He mopped floors and did whatever other tasks the cops asked.
Sometimes that included jerking them off, when their no-doubt bitchy wives refused to put out. Sheriff Torkelson told Desmond he could say no any time he wanted, but Desmond had a thing for cops, and he hadn’t yet met one he would turn down. Savillano never asked though.
It was Officer Savillano who had asked him to come into this walk-in closet to get a box of breathalyzer tubes. As always, when that gravel-coated voice filled Desmond’s ears, Desmond felt a surge of adrenaline and shivered in the wake of his body heat. His uniform shirt was partially unbuttoned now, revealing his hairy chest. One pearly drop of sweat plopped off his heavy cavemanish brow onto Desmond’s nose, making him shimmy and lick his lips. The salty flavor flooded his senses.
“Yo, hey,” Officer Savillano said. His gravelly voice wavered, and it filled the air like a steam cloud, echoing in the walk-in closet. He pursed his lips and let out a little grumble like there were other things he wanted to say but hadn’t yet come up with the words to say them.
“Hey. The light isn’t working. I think the breathalyzer tubes are over here. But the lightbulb doesn’t work, I keep telling Jefferson he needs to get more lightbulbs, he’s such a retard. If you just open the door a crack-” Desmond blushed, not that anyone could see it. It was obvious Officer Savillano wanted to talk to him, probably to ask if Desmond knew who was smuggling weed into the jail. Desmond did know, but he wasn’t about to say.
His hands clutched Savillano around the waist, which Officer Savillano didn’t stop or even respond to. Desmond liked the thickness of his meaty frame, and his muscles flexed under Desmond’s touch.
Trustees weren’t allowed to touch cops, and cops couldn’t touch trustees except by following the Five Pillars of Compliance. Desmond had seen the training video, and he’d watched the cops sign off on it without watching the video. Desmond couldn’t blame them for not watching it, but the rank hypocrisy did annoy him. Desmond had had to watch the same video, so that he would know how to comply, using the Five Pillars of Compliance.
So far, not a single Pillar had been used.
“I know it don’t work. The light ain’t workin’ cuz I took the bulb out,” Savillano said. He paused. “I threw it away. I’ll tell Jefferson to put in the order. But shush up.” He wrapped his powerful arms around Desmond, whose heart fluttered, then Savillano picked him up to switch positions with him. That placed Desmond right next to the door.
“Oh. Savillano…” Desmond was confused, a bit scared, and a whole lot aroused. Savillano’s warmth and the musk of his cologne swarmed and swirled around him, and Desmond got dizzy in his thick-bodied presence.
“I put ya next to the door, on account of so you can leave,” Savillano said, aiming his voice right at the back of Desmond’s neck, where his breath condensed moistly. He whispered, but he had such a deep, potent voice that it wasn’t very quiet. No one was around anyway — it was after five, so all the cops save Savillano were gone. There were only four inmates in the jail census, so there was only a need for one officer at night.
“Oh…” Desmond’s dick rocketed to attention. He was already imagining getting rammed by Savillano’s hopefully fat cock, but the intellectual part of his mind assumed that wasn’t it. Savillano presumably had something else to ask. Desmond was just too horny to think of any other reason to go through all this.
“So… I ain’t like… a bad guy or nothin’,” Officer Savillano said. He talked a lot of shit about his prowess with women, he was always bragging about it. Desmond didn’t believe a word of it. Savillano was married, and he didn’t cheat. Desmond would put money on it. Savillano liked to front, but he wasn’t the kind of man women lust for. He wasn’t charming, rich or even tall.
“Oh. Okay…”
“I mean… Look, man… Y’know ‘bout my wife?”
“No.”
“Ain’t Thorne tell you?”
“No.”
“Oh. She got cancer, man. She-“
“Oh, wow, I’m sorry, man, that sucks…”
“Yeah. She got bone cancer, she gonna be dead soon.”
“Damn…” This dark-closet encounter was becoming more morose than arousing, Desmond thought. But he caught another whiff of Officer Savillano’s natural musk beneath his cologne, and Desmond had to suppress an embarrassing moan.
“Yeah, look, man… You can say no. Forgett’boutit, yu know. It ain’t a big deal. I got, y’know… I can do… othuh shit… I just was, yu know, like, whatevuh…” He snorted and wiped more sweat off his square-jawed face with one hand. “Look, dawg, man, like… I been, yu know… You cool, right?”
Desmond nodded, too nervous to say anything. Then he remembered he was in the dark, so he had to say yes out loud. Before he could, Officer Savillano just kept talking as though he had said it anyway.
“Well… I mean… Ain’t no big deal, but yu know, I seen you lookin’ at me, and shit, and Thorne told me you-” He paused, and Desmond didn’t need to see his face to know he was blushing. Savillano chuckled throatily. “He say you told him you’d eat beef stew outta my ass.”
Desmond giggled. “He told you that?”
“Yeah, I mean, whatevuh, but, yu know… I don’t want that. Not that. That’s weird. And gross. And dirty. And-“
“It was just a joke. I wouldn’t really eat beef stew out of your ass. I’m not sure it’s possible. Maybe like some pad thai.”
“Uh-huh. Well, yu know… Just…”
“What’s wrong, Savillano? Just say it. If you don’t want me to check out your ass all the time, just say so. And, y’know, get an uglier ass, or at least looser-fitting uniform pants. I like muscular thighs, and I can not lie.” Desmond was embarrassed now that he assumed he was in trouble for looking at Savillano’s ass. Could I be arrested over that? He didn’t think so.
“Can I ram you?!” he blurted out.
“What?”
Savillano murmured to himself. “Look, man, you can say no. I ain’t comin’ to you as an officer of the law. You gettin’ outta here in two weeks, ain’t nothin’ I could do about that even if I wanted to, which I don’t. You ain’t gonna be in trouble or nothin’, you can say no.”
“Okay…”
“But, yu know… If you wanted… I’s…” He grabbed his crotch, which Desmond couldn’t see but did sense in the darkness. “I could do, like… I just… Yu know…”
“Oh, you can’t screw your wife anymore, I see…” Desmond said with a sympathetic cluck of his tongue. “Of course, sweetie.” He touched Savillano’s belly. He was a weightlifter, so he had a strong, no-fat belly, but it wasn’t flat either, he was muscular enough that his belly protruded a bit. His muscles all twitched and rippled as soon as Desmond touched him through his uniform shirt, like he had been waiting a long time to be touched.
“Ah, shit, okay, thanks, thanks a lot… You can make me stop or slow down or whatever. Just say it, no problem,” Savillano said. He cleared his throat. “It ain’t even like I can’t, yu know, mess around wit’ a girlie. I got females all over, y’know, they want me, they be sayin’ I should calls ‘em up as soon as… Yu know, if I evuh wanna play around, ya feel me? But I ain’t gonna cheat on my wife on her deathbed. That ain’t right.” He sighed a long chambersome sigh of relief. “Alright, man. Here.” He had a bag with him, or maybe he had placed it in the closet in preparation for this encounter.
Desmond had been daydreaming about this for so long he went right to massaging Savillano’s biceps, making it hard for him to take things out of the plastic bag in his hands. Then Desmond wrinkled his nose as Savillano sprayed him with perfume. His muscles flexed beneath Desmond’s touch.
“There, that’s her perfume. Put this on,” Savillano said. He put a wig on Desmond. It was a long, feminine wig — blonde? Desmond couldn’t tell because it was too dark, but he thought maybe blond; Officer Savillano seemed like the type to date a blonde, or more likely an Italian raven with dyed blonde hair.
Savillano sniffed deep of Desmond’s scent, his big, ungainly nose coming so close it glancingly touched Desmond’s neck. Whatever he smelled there must been enticing, because Savillano moaned, and his thick-fingered, callused hands wrapped around Desmond’s waist. Desmond wasn’t allowed cologne in his cell, so he just smelled like soap and deodorant, hopefully. He did buy the soap that smelled like mango though.
“Girl, you smell good enough to eat…” Savillano said with a menacing rumble, sounding like that was how he initiated sex with his wife. Desmond shivered and let out a girlish giggle. He placed both hands on Savillano’s broad shoulders, then slowly helped him shrug off his uniform shirt. He leaned in and jerked a few droplets of sweat off Officer Savillano’s hairy chest, on the rim of his sweat-suffused wifebeater.
It was unwashed, Desmond realized. The undershirt. The uniform shirt was dry-cleaned, but Savillano wasn’t washing his clothes. Or rather, Mrs. Savillano wasn’t. That made Desmond again cluck his tongue sympathetically, though he didn’t say why. Maybe Officer Savillano realized it. In any case, a chamberous moan escaped from his chest as Desmond spat up and down the width and breadth of his powerful torso.
As Desmond removed his shirt, Savillano explored Desmond’s body with his hands. He knew he wasn’t with his wife, of course, but Desmond looked similar to her; he was the right height and size, and he even had a similar personality. Savillano felt his waist and his smooth thighs as he took Desmond’s pants down. He kept his hands away from Desmond’s crotch and chest, not wanting to shatter his own illusion. Desmond smelled so much like her that Savillano could picture her as she had been back when she was well.
She had told him to sleep with other women. When she went into the hospital last month — and it was pretty obvious, no matter what the doctors said, that she wouldn’t ever leave — she had told Savillano to find someone else, not to even wait for her to pass away. Savillano had refused, of course.
But the more he heard the sound of Desmond’s effeminate panting just like his wife made when they shared the marital bed, the more Savillano knew he had to do it. The fact that Desmond was a man made it easier — physically more difficult, but emotionally easier because it wasn’t cheating. Savillano remained fiercely devoted to his wife and would never cheat on her.
When she died though… he didn’t want to think about that until it happened. Dating was going to be difficult. He hadn’t been on a date in twenty years.
Desmond dropped to his knees to handle Savillano’s cock, but much to his surprise, Savillano caught him. He wrapped his muscular arms around Desmond once more. Desmond gripped Savillano’s corded-muscle forearm while Savillano swooped down and kissed him on the lips.
He moaned into Desmond’s mouth. Desmond never thought an alpha male like Officer Savillano would agree to kiss him, so he was momentarily disconcerted. Then he kissed him back, and Savillano’s tongue plunged into his mouth.
Desmond wrapped his arms around Savillano’s broad shoulders, then jumped up and gripped his thick torso with his legs. “You’re so strong, sweetie-“
“Call me big boy,” Savillano said breathlessly, before resuming his shower of kisses..
“Ooh, I love your muscles, big boy,” Desmond said. He kissed Savillano on the neck while he unbuttoned his uniform shirt. “I bet you’ve been struggling with overflowing balls for a long time, huh?” He reached down and teasingly touched his cock through his uniform slacks with one hand, the other one massaging the hump of his toned biceps. “You’re so strong…”
“I need you…” He sounded like he was near tears. He kissed Desmond again, his tongue exploring Desmond’s mouth. He was firm and forceful, but gentle, his muscles hard as iron beneath Desmond’s touch. Desmond swooned, dizzy with desire, glad he could support himself on Officer Savillano’s sturdy body.
He put Desmond down, then took his shirt off while Desmond dropped back to his knees. Desmond flopped his cock out through the fly of his slacks. He was already half-hard, and Desmond kissed him right on the cocktip.
“Ooh, big boy, I can’t wait to taste your dick in my throat. Can I deep-throat you? Please?”
“Course, baby…” He pursed his lips. He moaned as Desmond flopped his cock over his face, and Desmond teased his tongue along the underside of his veiny shaft. “C’mon, baby, make it wet…”
Desmond knew he was good at getting a man off. He could get any man off in minutes if he wanted to, which he did not. He swallowed his cock down to the root right away, making Officer Savillano’s whole huge body shudder and grunt.
He had a big dick. Desmond was glad because a lot of bodybuilder-types didn’t. They either started working out because they were self-conscious about their small cocks or else their dicks got smaller due to steroid use. But not Savillano. His muscles were entirely natural, his frame naturally hefty and inclined towards fatness — he prevented that by working out every day, jogging and lifting weights for hours. That was how he had met his wife, she was a personal trainer at his gym.
His dick was rock-hard now, throbbing in Desmond’s mouth. He gripped Desmond’s head and pushed his dick in and out of Desmond’s throat. It was a throating — which Desmond loved — but it was different, more affectionate than Desmond had expected. He would have assumed Savillano wanted aggressive, even violent head, but in fact he made sweet love to Desmond’s mouth.
He swayed his hips, clucking his tongue as he worked his dick in. Desmond focused on nothing but keeping his mouth wide open, letting his nose nuzzle into Officer Savillano’s wiry pubic hair. He experienced a flood of desire every time he felt Savillano’s cock pulsate in his throat, leaking torrent after torrent of salty precum down Desmond’s gullet. The taste was so bright and sunny, so thick and creamy, Desmond could tell Savillano had been starved of a woman’s touch for a long time.
“Oh, god, babe, you got such a nice mouth, babe, damn…” Savillano said. He clucked his tongue like he was being seductive and flirty with a girl.
Desmond gently massaged his balls. He figured this was one thing Savillano’s wife probably never did right — girls couldn’t do it so well because they didn’t have balls. Desmond knew how to make it feel good.
Sure enough, it made Savillano’s whole body shake. He grunted, and his muscles all tensed. He could have shot his load right then, but he didn’t. He pulled out of Desmond’s mouth, and his knob jabbed around on Desmond’s face. He chased it with his tongue.
“Lemme in ya ass, babe, okay?”
“Sure-“
“C’mon, I’ll be so gentle… It won’t be like last time, baby, I’ll go real slow and nice-like…” He bent down and kissed Desmond on the forehead. He cooed and moaned like he needed to seduce Desmond into doing it.
“You don’t have to be gentle-“
“Shush.” Savillano’s seductive voice was gone. “Don’t talk like a slut, man.”
“Oh, sorry.” Desmond had to put himself in the mindset of a woman. “I don’t know, big boy, what if it hurts? You could tear my ass up…”
“I won’t… I’ll make you feel so good, babe.” He kissed Desmond on the lips, seemingly uncaring of the taste of his own cock there. His tongue again explored Desmond’s mouth. Desmond wrapped his arms around those broad shoulders, and mounted his chest with his arms and legs. Officer Savillano held him aloft.
Desmond stood and gripped the shelves on the side of the closet. He stuck his ass out. The fact that it was dark in here helped it go more smoothly — Officer Savillano assumed that whatever Desmond was doing in the dark was what his ex-wife would have been doing, that Desmond was shimmying like she used to and moaning for more like she did. He grunted affirmatively like Desmond was doing it right, even though all Desmond did was turn around and grip the shelves.
His hairy chest pressed against Desmond’s back, his pants around his ankles. He squeezed his dick between Desmond’s cheeks. It was hot and thick and moist and throbbing like it was its own living being, and it was so fat it didn’t even fit between Desmond’s buttcheeks much less in his hole.
“Stick it in me, big boy…” Desmond said. He opened his ass the best he could. “C’mon, I need your cock, big boy…”
“I love you.” He grunted and slammed his dick in. A part of his mind was embarrassed because he hadn’t meant to say that, but it was overcome by the part of his mind that just wanted to ram Desmond’s tight hole. All he cared about in that moment was getting his dick in there.
Pain erupted in Desmond’s ass. He moaned, his whole body tensing at first. The agony lasted only a few seconds, however, before it melted away, replaced by an intense, overwhelming pleasure. His moan turned into a closet-shaking cringe of desire.
“Shush, it’s okay, baby, I love you, I love you, I’ll never hurt you…” Officer Savillano said. He again sounded like he was on the verge of tears, and he kissed the back of Desmond’s head. “Here, baby, you can bite me.” He wrapped one arm in front of Desmond’s face, giving Desmond perfect access to bite on the muscle of his forearm.
Desmond didn’t want to bite down though. He just nuzzled it, licking and jerking all the sweat off the surface of Savillano’s forearm. The sensations in his ass grew as Savillano worked his dick in deeper and deeper.
“Oh god, yes, ram me, big boy, ram me harder!”
Savillano grunted and grinned. “Hell yeah I will. You ready?”
“Yes!”
“Shush, don’t be so loud. Them kitchen folks could hear,” Savillano said. He kissed Desmond on the cheek and slammed his dick in. He pulled it out, grimacing and shushing Desmond as he did, then pistoned his powerful hips again.
Desmond slammed against the shelves, which shook, making more noise than Desmond ever had. But Officer Savillano didn’t seem to notice. He rammed harder and harder, grunting more with each thrust of his hips.
Wrapping his hand around his own dick, Desmond reached orgasm as Savillano’s cock rammed into his prostate over and over. The waves of pleasure wracking his body made Desmond tremble like the shelves. Beneath the bliss was just a little pain, enough to make the pleasure even more intense.
But it was also enough to make it difficult for Desmond to stay still. He danced between his feet while he sprayed his load over the shelves. Savillano lifted him up as he rammed, picking Desmond off the floor, just a foot or so, enough to give Savillano complete control over his ass.
“Oh god, yes, do it to me, big boy!” Desmond couldn’t control himself anymore. He was off the floor now, supported entirely by Savillano’s muscles and his manhood. Desmond’s bright red face gasped as the most incredible orgasm of his life hit him hard. Officer Savillano kissed him again as he too climaxed, groaning, moaning into Desmond’s waiting mouth.
Cum flowed into his ass. It had been months since Savillano rammed — he hadn’t gone more than a week or two without sex since high school, so he shot a massive load. It kept coming, filling Desmond up and seeping into his flesh.
Since Desmond wasn’t supporting himself, all of that cum slipped right back out, making a big frothy mess as Savillano kept gyrating. Even as his cock limpened inside Desmond’s ass, Savillano continuing humping, groaning and grimacing as he did. He nibbled on Desmond’s nape, while his callused hands roamed over Desmond’s chest and belly. He even glancingly touched the sensitive tip of Desmond’s cock, reawakening Desmond’s orgasmic shudders and moans of delight.
“Ah, baby, yeah… take it…” He bit his lip. He kept on grinding his dick within Desmond’s ass, while spasms of post-orgasmic pleasure ran up his spine. He made a big frothy mess of all that cum, which bubbled out and soaked into his slacks.
“Shit…”
“Damn, you okay?” Officer Savillano grunted. He was exhausted, disappointed that it was over — he had an instinctual and emotional urge to take Desmond out with him to go on a date, take him to a movie and a fancy restaurant, then ram him again in a cheap motel room.
But he couldn’t do that. Of course.
“I’m perfect….” Desmond moaned. The pressure in his ass was too intense to say anything else.
Then Officer Savillano pulled his cock out. “So… like… we still cool, right? You was like… into that?”
“So into it.”
“Good. Maybe, y’know… Maybe…” Officer Savillano was nervous like a schoolboy. “Maybe, like, we could… you know…”
“Do it again?”
“If you want!”
“You just let me know when, baby.” Desmond said breathlessly. He pulled his own pants up.
Officer Savillano was about to do the same, then realized that all of his cum had spilled onto the pants and underwear that were around his ankles. He groaned. “Oh. Can you go to my locker and get my spare pants?”
“Sure, baby.” Desmond paused. He opened the door to leave, but then didn’t go just yet. “Can I kiss you again?”
Savillano paused and sighed. There was light in the closet now, which made it more difficult to pretend he was kissing his wife. He hadn’t intended to kiss Desmond at all, and he certainly hadn’t intended to say he loved him.
But he didn’t want to be a jerk, and he didn’t mind the kiss earlier. He could just close his eyes. So he planted his lips right on Desmond’s, and their tongues interlocked. Desmond squealed and jumped up, wrapping his legs around Savillano’s bare chest again. His skin was slick with sweat.
Finally Desmond pulled away. “Thanks, big boy. I’ll be right back with clothes for you.”

The Hustler

Rob stumbles across an alpha male biker in need of cash, a place to stay and a chance to get a nut off, which are all problems Rob is eager to help solve. That means Rob is in for a night of raunchy action, dominance and a mind-blowing orgasm.

Can Rob handle the firm hand of his new friend?

Read it now as an ebook!

Or read the whole thing here!

Rob sat in his coffeeshop, looking at the novel he had just finished writing. He had finished it too recently to edit it now. It was tough to edit something right after you wrote it. But his deadline was tomorrow, so Rob was trying to gin up the energy to do it anyway.
He didn’t really have to meet the deadline. Most freelance writers were so flaky, he was seen as “on-time and ultra-efficient” if he was less than a week late. That would give Rob a few days to decompress, then look over the novel with a fresh pair of eyes.
He just didn’t want to have this Mafia romance hanging over his head any longer.
He idly googled the Mafia. There needed to be some fact specific to the Mafia that worked into the plot. Right now, it was just a story with criminals in it — that they were Mafia was mentioned in the prose, but not demonstrated through an action. They were just generic criminals so far. Rob needed to add a tidbit that directly related to some Mafia word like omertà or consigliere. But not as hokey or well-known as those, it needed to be something else.
A goombah was a man’s mistress. That could be something, Rob thought, but women might find it offensive, even if it was only a villainous kidnapper’s woman.
He kept scrolling through lists of Mafia slang. Most of them had the same twenty or so words.
Who’s that? Someone caught Rob’s gaze.
There was a man outside, hanging out near the motorcycle shop on the street. He caught Rob’s eye. He looked vaguely bikerish, but Rob didn’t get the impression he had any intention of going into the motorcycle shop next-door. He just milled about near the practice-lot for new motorcyclists and smoked a cigarette.
The man was medium-height but well-muscled, his broad shoulders showed off by a sleeveless shirt. He had a scruffy mustache and a scruffier beard, and dark eyes, with long black hair that was tangled and greasy.
He threw his cigarette on the ground. Then he curled his lip at a young black man walking by. They both nodded at each other as though they knew each other — there was hostility though, like they had fought once. When the black guy went past, the biker licked his teeth and watched him go. He exhaled a long plume of smoke.
As soon as he snubbed out his cigarette, the white man with the black hair lit another one. Was he waiting for someone? Rob sensed an opportunity for rough trade.
He paid for his coffee and put his laptop away before heading out to his car. He knew from personal experience that the best way to get a hustler off the street was with a car. That would signal that Rob had some money, and it would get the hustler somewhere more private.
He pulled to a stop in front of the bike shop. “Hey, man, what’s up?”
The hustler scowled and looked in the passenger side window. Cars streamed past Rob on the street. “What?” he barked into the window.
“Hey, how you doin’? You know cars? I could use someone who knows cars. My car’s making this noise, it’s sort of a thwump-thwump-“
“You lookin’ for a mechanic?”
“Bah, you know, they’re all crooks. They’ll cheat me, I know it. They always do. I usually just look around for someone who might know what they’re talking about. You’re into motorcycles, right? You must know about cars.” Rob gestured towards the motorcycle shop.
“You payin’?”
“Yeah. Of course. I’ll treat you right, I swear.”
The hustler shrugged and nodded. He got in the passenger seat. “Yeah. I know cars. I mean, sort of.”
“Cool, sweet.” Rob cleared his throat. “I’m Rob.”
“Glasser.”
“Cool, Glasser, sweet,” Rob said. “So-“
“What sound is ya car makin’? I don’t hear nothin’.”
“Oh, not this car,” Rob said. “It’s my other car, back at my place. I’ll take you there. Where do you live, Glasser?”
He shrugged. “Around.” He let out a shiver. Now that he was out of the cold air and the light drizzle, he found it more difficult to keep himself from shivering.
“You got a girlfriend?”
Glasser scoffed like that was absurd. “I got females I mess wit’.”
“Uh-huh. Sweet. Cool.” Rob smiled at him as he got on the highway. “So, uh… you horny?”
“Always.” Glasser crossed his arms over his chest and looked out the window. That position accentuated his pecs, which pressed against his too small tee shirt. His biceps gleamed with either sweat or rain or both.
“You wanna… y’know… do somethin’ ‘bout that?” Rob asked. Glasser ignored him, just staring out the window. Rob gingerly touched Glasser’s left bicep. Glasser still ignored him. Rob squeezed his arm and caressed it, his fingers slipping under Glasser’s sleeveless shirt to his shoulder. That made Glasser’s muscles all twitch at once. With one hand still on the steering wheel, Rob massaged Glasser’s back with his other hand. “Can you take your dick out?”
Glasser sighed like that was a huge imposition. His mustache quivered. He unzipped his dirty camo pants and took his dick out — again, he looked back out the window, avoiding Rob’s gaze. He had a hefty dick, plenty thick and tanned a dark brown, just a shade darker than his skin.
He just took it out and let it flop against the fabric of his rain-soaked pants. He didn’t play with it or anything. It just lay there like an abandoned sausage.
“You have a nice cock. I really do have a car at home that makes a thwump-thwump sound. I think something’s loose in the undercarriage,” he said. “I’ll give you fifty bucks if you can fix it tonight.”
After a long, pregnant pause, Glasser said, “I might need tools.” His dickfat jiggled when he spoke. He exhaled another plume from that ever-present cigarette.
“I’ve got some tools. If there’s something you can’t do tonight, then we’ll work something else out,” Rob said. He grabbed Glasser’s limp cock with one hand. He didn’t sroke it, he just held on like a handle, gauging Glasser’s reaction. Rob faced the road, so he couldn’t see his face, but he sensed only a blankness from him.
He crossed his arms over his chest, staring out the window intently like he might see something interesting if he looked hard enough. It was dark out though. There was nothing to see but the streetlights and the other cars whizzing by on the highway. His dick throbbed and jostled in Rob’s grip.
“Okay, cool, thanks,” Rob said. He gave Glasser’s cock a squeeze and a stroke, and still Glasser ignored it.
Glasser ignored Rob’s finger as it moved in a little circle over the spot on the underside of his cock, right where the glans met the shaft. His dick was heavy and thick. Rob stroked it with just one finger at first. He rubbed that finger from tip to root and back, while Glasser sighed.
At last, Glasser looked away from the window and watched Rob stroke his dick. He didn’t say anything.
“You let guys jack you off a lot?”
“No.”
” I’ll pay you. Hundred bucks, if you let me swallow your cum. Plus fifty to fix my car,” Rob said. “You need a place to stay?”
Glasser didn’t answer, but he grunted in a way that made the answer clear — yes. He watched his cockshaft as it flopped limply in Rob’s hand. Rob stroked slowly. He made no effort to get it hard, he was just playing with it the best he could while still driving the car with the other hand.
“You want a drink?”
Glasser glowered for a moment, then said, “Can’t. Gots a parole officer who gonna test my piss tomorrow.”
“Oh, that sucks,” Rob said. He kept stroking. Glasser’s limp dick was hot and moist with sweat. Rob was pretty sure he was trying hard not to get an erection yet. Was that to hold out for more money? Just plain anxiety? Did he drink enough he actually had trouble getting an erection? Or did he just want to prove he couldn’t get hard for a man too easily?
Pulling off the highway, Rob slowed down the car but sped up his stroking. He squeezed a bit too. That made Glasser grunt.
His cock pulsated and twitched. It began to firm up in Rob’s mind. Glasser returned to looking intently out the window. At least now there were things out there — a gas station, a dog running along the side of the road, a woman parking.
“I wanna swallow your cum.”
Glasser chuckled throatily — it was a dim, minimal chuckle, but still, it was the strongest emotion he had shown yet. “That’s nasty.” He paused. “Don’t show me ya mouth. Some perverts do that, they jerk a man off and swallow and then open up so I can see — that’s fuckin’ disgusting. Don’t do — I mean, I ain’t sayin’ I let fellers jerk me off. I don’t do that, no sir, not on the regular. I just…”
“You don’t have to explain yourself.”
“I used to, alright? When I was doin’ drugs, I mean, I used to let all kinda boys handle my meat,” Glasser said. “That’s all. I ain’t doin’ it no more.” He sniffled. “After tonight.”
“Okay. Cool. I get to be your last, huh?” Rob said with a laugh. He pulled into his driveway and put the car in park in front of his garage. Then he lowered his head to Glasser’s crotch and deep-throated him to the root, all in one smooth motion.
“Shit…” Glasser said. His eyes opened wide — not that Rob could see it — and he had to hold back a gasp. He didn’t know it would feel this good right away. He sucked in on his cigarette then coughed, which rammed his cock deep into Rob’s throat.
Rob grinned as he choked. Even though he couldn’t see Glasser’s face, he knew what was happening. Glasser was shocked at how good this felt but he was trying to hide it. He could sense it in Glasser’s feet curling and lifting off the car floor, in the tensing of his thigh muscles and the sudden explosive erection — his dick got noticeably more erect just in the moments it took Rob to go from playing with it to swallowing the whole foot-long shaft.
Betcha no women swallow him that deep, Rob thought… He would have said it out loud if his mouth weren’t full.
Glasser growled, a low rumbling sound that bounced out of his mouth through his gritted teeth. He lifted his ass off the seat and grabbed Rob’s head with both hands.
“Take it, man, swallow it, swallow that shit, sissy, c’mon…” Glasser said. His swarthy face turned reddish. He grunted loudly, like an angry hog, and he gripped Rob’s scalp tightly. “Don’t stop, man, I’m gonna nut.”
Rob wasn’t expecting him to cum so quickly, especially since it had taken Glasser awhile to get hard. But Rob didn’t mind — he thought he could get another load out of Glasser tonight. Hot streams of jizz poured down Rob’s throat, and he choked loudly even as he managed to get every drop down his gullet.
His lungs cried out for oxygen, but Rob managed to avoid spitting out the cum that flowed deep into his throat. Glasser held him tightly, all the way down on that massive dick, which tasted of rain and dirty clothes. His cum, on the other hand, was bright and warm and sunny, creamy like… well, cream, and salty in a good way. Rob savored the taste as it pumped down his gullet.
“You’s makin’ a sloppy mess, sissy,” Glasser said, heaving for air as he orgasmed in Rob’s mouth. He frowned, gripping Rob’s hair even more tightly. He bucked his hips, forcing his dick all the way in once more for the last few wads of cum. It coated Rob’s throat and sat hotly in his belly. “Goddamn…”
When he could resist no longer, Rob sputtered, unable to avoid making a big mess of cum that spewed out and soaked into Glasser’s pubic hair. It coated the surface of his jeans too. Even when he thought ht was done spitting up, Rob moved his head just an inch, which triggered both another explosion of pleasure in Glasser and a gag that roiled Rob’s body. Rob retched up a mouthload, while Glasser let out an involuntary moan that turned into a stonefacing grunt. He kept Rob’s dick in place, forcing him to choke up again and against, the sensation massaging Glasser’s sensitive shaft.
At last, Rob pulled off completely, forcing his head away from Glasser’s cock cuz Glasser held on tight like he was never gonna let him take a breath. Rob grabbed a coarse lungful of air, while Glasser sighed. Then Rob moved to kiss him on the lips, an instinctual move he didn’t think Glasser would accept. Glasser gently pushed and then rudely slapped his cum-dripping face.
“Don’chu dare kiss me.” He coughed, making his dickfat jiggle once more as it rapidly limpened up. “You nothin’ special, pansy.” Glasser wasn’t about to admit that that was an especially good dome — he would never admit that because it sounded too queer to say out loud. But it was obvious from his breathless reaction and the way his whole body went limp at once as he let go of Rob’s head. Rob at last pulled off and took a big, deep breath, which made a hoarse sound that filled the tiny cabin of the car.
“Hmmm… Damn, you… got dick… for days,” Rob said. He gave Glasser’s cock another stroke, which made Glasser gasp and his whole body squirm.
Glasser smacked Rob — not as hard as he could but hard enough to hurt. Glasser hadn’t wanted to squirm like that, it made him feel weak. “I ain’t say you could swallow it.”
“Oh, sorry, okay,” Rob said. He wiped his face off. “You wanna come in-?”
“Pay me, bitch.”
“Oh, yeah, sure.” Rob pulled out the hundred dollars he had promised and handed it over. He pointed to the garage. “Did you want to work on the car tonight? You could sleep tonight instead and do it tomorrow-“
“You got electricity in ya garage?”
“Yeah.”
“Then I’ll work tonight.” Glasser got out of the car — only then putting his dick away and realizing how much cum had gotten on his pants. He went out to stand in the rain to “wash” the stain off some. “Just go to bed, sissy. I’ll sleep on the couch tonight and finish the car tomorrow.”
“Oh. I…” Rob wanted to ask if Glasser was going to ram him in the ass. He had hoped to do more than just play with his dick for about three minutes. But he sensed that the more he pushed right now, the less cooperative Glasser would be. “Okay.”
Rob went inside. He first made himself some food — just pasta with a bunch of leftovers mixed in, but he made sure to pan-fry some onions and garlic in butter — no one, he thought, could resist that smell. He knew it was smellable out in the garage too.
But Glasser still didn’t come in. When Rob went out there to check on him, he was pretty sure Glasser hadn’t been doing any work until Rob came to the garage door. Then he slid under the car and pretended to be doing something.
It soon became obvious that the car was fixed. Glasser wasn’t going to come in the house until Rob was in bed. Rob just shrugged — a lot of men will do what they have to for money, but not sleep with men, or kiss them, or even hug them in some cases. Obviously Glasser was one of those kind of guys.
Rob put a pillow and blanket out by the couch, plus a bowl of food in the kitchen. He thought he’d get Glasser later tonight or very early tomorrow morning — he’d be horny again then, and he’d probably want money to go out drinking after meeting with his parole officer.
Then Rob turned out the lights and went to bed. Sure enough, he heard Glasser come in about twenty minutes later. Rob didn’t go out. If Glasser was homeless — which now seemed like a real possibility — he probably wanted a chance to be in a home, by himself, to relax. He heard Glasser turn the TV on — that took some fumbling with the remote, but Rob didn’t go out there to help. He let Glasser figure it out on his own.
Rob was just about asleep when the door to his bedroom opened up. His ears twitched. Glasser’s baritone burp filled the air (it smelled like the leftover pasta Rob had left out for him).
“Hey. I’m gonna ram you. Don’t say nothin’,” Glasser said. He pulled the covers off Rob and dragged his shorts down. Glasser was already naked, his dick already hard because he had found some hip-hop videos on the TV, which were thinly disguised softcore pornography. He slid his dick between Rob’s cheeks and climbed into the bed with him.
Rob wanted to ask a bunch of questions — did Glasser want a ride to his parole officer tomorrow? Did he want to use a condom? Did he want the lights on? Did he want Rob to get on all fours? That was the position men seemed to want the most often — because it didn’t require them to look at Rob’s face, his breastless chest or his cock and balls. From behind, Rob looked very feminine except for the short haircut. But then, it was dark in here anyway, so Glasser could have easily pretended Rob was female in any position.
In any case, Glasser didn’t seem too concerned about that. His hairy chest scratched at Rob’s smooth back, as Glasser humped his dick between Rob’s cheeks.
“Shush…” Glasser said after he let out a groan. He kept on shushing Rob, even though Rob barely peeped. It was Glasser who kept grunting and clucking his tongue against his teeth whenever Rob didn’t move in the direction he wanted.
Glasser brought the covers back up as though he wanted to cover this up, so no one could see what was happening. He lifted his hips up to give himself some leverage, then aimed his dick for Rob’s asshole.
“Open that ass, punk, lemme in,” Glasser said, whispering breathlessly into Rob’s ear. He slapped one of Rob’s cheeks just as his dick pushed in.
Rob grunted. At last, he finally made a sound, and Glasser erupted in a torrent of hushing. Rob squirmed as pressure hit his ass, an intense pushing sensation that was hard to take at first — this was all going so fast. After waiting for hours, Rob was finally getting rammed by his favorite hustler yet, he just needed a moment to adjust.
But Glasser wasn’t waiting a moment. He gritted his teeth and pumped his hips once more, forcing more of his dick down and into Rob’s ass. He was relentless.
He pushed Rob’s face into the mattress. “Lift ya asshole up.” He lifted his own body up as he rammed all the way in and out now. Rob had to raise his hips to meet Glasser’s cock, and soon Rob was knelt over instead of on all fours. He cried out and groaned, but Glasser again shushed him. “Quiet, keep it real quiet…”
Glasser had gotten into the habit of plowing men on the downlow, in the darkness and quiet, during his first stay in jail. Back then, he had been in a small local jail with a sheriff who strictly forbade premarital sex and even circlejerking — that was what Glasser’s biker gang traditionally did when they got arrested, to “christen” their new cell. So Glasser had started ramrodding his cellmate with the lights off, as quietly as possible, and with blankets covering him.
That was why now, even though the positioning made it awkward, Glasser tried to keep the blankets covering up his crotch and Rob’s ass. He had to use one hand on that so he could only use one hand to hold Rob in position. He pressed down on Rob’s head, which meant he couldn’t hold onto Rob’s ass — instead, every time Rob moved too much, Glasser growled to signal he should keep his ass high. And when Rob’s motion made the blanket fall away, Glasser smacked his asscheek.
“Shush, I’m gonna nut now, I’m gonna nut…” As Glasser felt his orgasm approach, he collapsed onto the bed. This felt good. It was like making love to a woman. He pulled the covers over Rob all the way up to the neck. That made it easy, especially in the dark, to pretend Rob was a woman — Glasser wasn’t pretending that, but he felt he needed to leave the option open, so he could, and so he could tell others later (not that he would tell anyone about this) that he had had to pretend Rob was a woman in order to ram him.
But actually, Glasser didn’t pretend that at all. He just wanted to bust a nut. He slid onto his side, and wrapped both hands all the way around Rob’s chest. He even kissed Rob’s cheek and nuzzled his neck as he orgasmed.
“Ah, goddamn, yeah, keep ya asshole open, keep it open…” Glasser moaned right into Rob’s ear. His breath condensed on his cheek. “Keep it open, pansy, lemme fill you up…”
Rob sprayed his own wad onto his belly and into his hands, just as he felt Glasser’s muscles spasm against his back. The petrichorian smell that clung to his unwashed body was overpowering now that it was trapped by the sheet, and since Rob was smaller than Glasser, he was buried in the scent of Glasser’s chest hair and armpit sweat.
Cum flew into Rob’s ass. Glasser was one of those who stayed still as he came, his dick all the way in, spurting wad after wad of white-hot cum. It was creamy and thick, sticky, seeping into Rob’s flesh. He felt it flowing within him.
Glasser was motionless for what felt like forever, as liquid orgasm coursed through his veins. He hadn’t blown a nut this good since prison. He attributed that to Rob having a nicer ass than most of the common prostitutes he hooked up with on the street. Being able to mess around in a bed instead of behind a dumpster helped a lot too. And Rob was clean enough to kiss, not that he intended to do any kissing.
After one final spurt of jizz up Rob’s guts, Glasser began humping again, very slowly, just grinding, sliding his half-hard dick around within Rob’s ass. He grunted along with Rob when the pain grew more intense, and Rob clenched, sending a wave of pleasure through Glasser’s post-orgasmic body.
“Shit…” Glasser said. He sighed, and for just a moment, he stayed there, breathing heavily, dick sliding moistly out of Rob’s ass. He kissed Rob’s cheek. It was affectionate and intimate, and Glasser loved it.
But he couldn’t let himself continue that. He rolled over and off Rob’s back. Rob took a deep breath.
“Thanks,” Rob said.
Glasser stood and lit a cigarette — mainly because he knew Rob didn’t allow smoking in the house and he wanted to show he did whatever he wanted, that he wasn’t letting some man be the boss of him. The smell of tobacco filled the air. Glasser smoked quietly, standing near enough to the bed that Rob could hug his hairy thighs and clean his dick off with a tissue.
Then Glasser grunted and walked out of the bedroom. “I’ll sleep on the couch, asshole,” he said. “You owe me fifty bucks for the car and two hundred for plowing you in the ass.” He paused. “Get me up at nine o’clock and drive me to the parole office. You better buy me breakfast too. Not Burger King.”
“Okay.”
Glasser went back into the other room to sleep on the couch. Last thing he did before going to sleep was sliding Rob’s ipad into the backpack he brought over here. No punk, he thought, deserves to go without being robbed.