pride – Mansploitation

The Biker Bottoms

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

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

The Drifter

Rob has paid off a child support beef for the legendary drifter and hobo Tommy Weathers, and for that, Rob is ready to taste his filthy, raunchy meat. Is Tommy willing to give it up?

Read it now as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here

It took a long time after Rob paid off the child support for Tommy to be released. Rob’s heart skipped a beat at the sight of his latest lust striding cockily through the jail, his eyes darting suspiciously towards the uniformed cop who escorted him out.
“I thanks ya kindly, suh,” Tommy said when he was in the waiting area and his handcuffs were unlocked. “You a real prince among men.”
The situation was awkward, the waiting area clogged with dour-looking girlfriends, mothers and lawyers, all of them pretending they weren’t eavesdropping. Tommy was oblivious though and shamelessly spoke loudly and at great length in front of them.
“Uh, yeah, no problem. You’re welcome,” Rob said.
Tommy’s deep voice boomed. He was tall and big-bodied by nature, but with the lean, ropy build of a drifter. He was white but with very sun-tanned skin, burnt and reburnt by his days of shirtless work. He was missing several teeth. His accent was so thick it reminded Rob of the incomprehensible hillbilly, Boomhauer, from King of the Hill. He talked incessantly too, as though he was required to verbalize every thought he had.
“I’m gonna pay you back, suh. Not in money, you know I ain’t got none of that, and if’n I did, I’d just spend it all on booze, ya hear. The ol’ Tommy, he would-a say he gonna pay you back in cold hard cash, ya hear, but he wouldn’t do it. Nosirree. He just use ya and abuse ya for as much as he can, then spend it all on fentunill, uh-huh, ya hear, son? I ain’t that kinda man no mo’, suh, and I thanks ya rightly for all that you done. I’s gonna tell ya upfront that if I gets any cash, I be buyin’ liquor wit’ it. Ain’t proud of it, ’s just my weakness, ya hear? God ain’t see fit to gimme the strength to resist sweet lady drink.”
He kept talking as they walked back to Rob’s car and drove away from the jail. Rob found his accent alluring, and his intense energy made Rob horny. He couldn’t focus on Tommy’s words because he was so aroused.
So far, Rob had only managed to jack Tommy off once when he was drunk. They met because Tommy was holding up a sign asking for money at a busy intersection — he had insisted even as he begged for handouts that he didn’t accept welfare (he offered to write down every person’s address and pay them back at some point in the future, but most people understandably declined). Rob had offered him thirty bucks to jack him off.
Tommy agreed without giving it a second thought and jumped into the passenger seat. Once he was there, however, he made a big show of this being contrary to his ideals as a Christian. Those ideals didn’t slow him down any, but he did make Rob buy him liquor first, and by the time he had his dick out in the shadowy corner of an All-Mart parking lot, Tommy had been piss-drunk.
His dick was thick and fleshy, nice and long, and it throbbed beneath Rob’s fingertips. Tommy had demonstrated its thickness by holding it next to his forearm — it was just a bit thicker than his cock. He cackled with pride.
“Mah friends always used to say I got color cock,” he grinned, showing off his gap-toothed jaw. “You know what that mean? I got dick like a color boy. Ain’t prejudice now, ya hear?”
“Uh-huh.”
He went on, talking about his lack of prejudice and, at the same time, all the groups of people he was prejudiced against: Filipinos, blacks, foreigners, electricians, feminists, Marylanders, Jews, Frenchmen, people named Bruce, Canadians, psychiatrists, people who eat smooth peanut butter, Texans, politicians, Mexicans and Mormons, among others. Even as his dick got hard in Rob’s hand and leaked precum into his fingers, Tommy didn’t stop talking.
“I used to fuck this color girl, she loved me somethin’ fierce. Ah, damn, she got this ass, man… It’s enough to make me unchristian, it rightly is, suh. I tell you one thing. Uh-huh.”
When he orgasmed, he shut up for about half a second, then let loose with a loud torrent of moaning. Even his moans had a redneck accent though, which made Rob giggle.
Sitting there in the car in the All-Mart parking lot, Rob had nearly busted his own load just from the sight of Tommy’s muscles writhing beneath his t-shirt, his scruffy chin and his unwashed hair shaking. He finally stopped talking for a few seconds, long enough to spray sweet, sunny-smelling semen all over Rob’s hand. It spurted over Tommy’s t-shirt too, soaking into it. That made Tommy drunkenly groan with disgust, but Rob had given him a new t-shirt. Tommy allowed him to keep the old one, which Rob had fallen asleep sniffing and licking.
So that had been how he met Tommy. He had paid Tommy thirty bucks and the bottle and said he could stay at Rob’s place. He slept on the couch. That first night, he had spent the whole thirty bucks on more booze. He said that it would last him a week, but he actually finished it in two days — he shared some with a couple of homeless men, but he drank most of it himself.
Since then Tommy had been out and about — “testifyin’ at ‘bout the Lord on heaven” — so Rob hadn’t had the chance to get at his dick again.
Until today.
Tommy had spent a day and a half in jail after being arrested for being drunk in public. It turned out he owed five hundred in child support, which Rob paid to get him out.
When they pulled into Rob’s house, Tommy cleared his throat. “Ya need any more work done, suh?”
Rob shook his head no. Tommy had refused to take charity, so he had done some work around the house in exchange for a couch to sleep on. But that work was all done.
“You gonna wanna jack me off, huh?”
“Yeah,” Rob said.
He sighed. “Fine. I knew it was gonna come to that. I don’t take charity, so I’ll do whatevuh it take,” he said.
“I might know someone who needs work done,” Rob said. “Why don’t I make some calls? I might be able to find you a job.”
“I’d be much obliged,” he said. He sniffed his pits. “I should go take a shower. I got jailstink in me.”
“No.” Rob blushed. “Wait. Lemme… y’know… first.”
“Oh, you like it stinky, huh?”
“The stinkier the better,” Rob said. He sent off a text message to a friend of his, asking about a job for Tommy. Then he dropped to his knees and massaged Tommy’s cock through his jeans. Tommy snorted and was silent for a moment — that was highly unusual for him, and it was enough to make Rob chuckle. He undid the fly and let Tommy’s cock flop out.
Rob opened his mouth and swallowed it down. That triggered Tommy to start talking again, but Rob ignored him. He focused on the taste of his meat; it was salty and musky, with a sun-drenched summery flavor that made Rob drool all over it.
“You really like jackin’ dick, huh? What’s up wit’ dat? Huh? Dick don’t taste good, I never put it in my mouth — no how, no way — but I knows dat, yessuh, you best believe it. That’s where piss come from, why don’t it just taste like piss?” He paused, his voice scrunched up as he pondered this conundrum. “Oh, but girls piss too. Pussy does piss I know dat, suh. But they’s cleaner. That’s the diff’rence. Tastes like piss, yessuh. I know dat.”
His dick got hard easily — Rob was glad to see he didn’t have whiskey dick, despite the bottle of whiskey he had drunk before getting arrested. It was massively thick, one of those rare cocks that Rob actually needed to struggle to deep-throat.
There were two reasons in Rob’s book to practice rough trade. Firstly, he just plain enjoyed it. Secondly, and even more important, Rob loved to humiliate his father. Dad was an upper-class elitist who hated the lower classes. He genuinely thought poor people shouldn’t be allowed to speak to the wealthy unless spoken to first.
So as Rob swallowed, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed Dad. As expected, it went straight to voice mail — Dad knew what it meant when Rob called him. Rob was fine with the voice mail, since Dad couldn’t hang it up. Rob left the phone recording while he moistly put his mouth on Tommy’s cock, whose incessant yammering in his Southern dialect would enrage Dad so much it made Rob smile.
“You got nice lips, damn, suh. I wasn’t expectin’ that, nosirree. I never do no pervy shit wit’ no male person befo’, nope, no, no, no, no way, and I will slap the bitch off anyone say different,” he said. “But I’s a Christian man, so I won’t do that. I don’t slap no one. I would though, I’d do it and get meself some fo’giveness later. I’s Christian fo’ real, suh. Don’t hit anyone who question me, not even men. Nope, that ain’t Christian. But don’t doubt that I ain’t nevuh do none of that pervuht shit befo’, or I will hit ya, and that’s a Christian promise.” He continued swearing that he both would definitely hit this hypothetical person and definitely would not, apparently having no realization that he was contradicting himself over and over. He peered down at his cock as it disappeared down Rob’s throat. He covered his eyes with one hand, peeking through his fingers before looking away again.
Rob loved hearing Tommy’s rumbling drawl, his gravelly voice filling the air with the words that dripped out of him like molasses. His cock dripped too, salty precum flowing down Rob’s throat. He gurgled on it, letting some leak out from his lips and down his chin.
The phone rang — not Rob’s personal phone, but his landline. Rob wasn’t going to answer until he saw he caller ID. It was a friend who owned a small bakery in town.
“I should take this,” Rob said. “It’s the guy I asked about giving you a job. I sent him a text. He called on the landline-“
“Hell yeah, answer that, suh, I rightly need dat, yeah,” he said. He wrinkled his nose as Rob lazily stroked his dick and answered the phone. He stared at the cock as he had to fight back the urge to start jacking on it again — he needed his mouth free to talk on the phone.
It turned out his friend did have a job available. He needed someone to re-tile his bathroom, and, when Rob asked, Tommy nodded as though he didn’t have experiencing tiling but was willing to pretend he did.
So Rob passed the phone over. Tommy took a deep breath before answering, and Rob couldn’t help but lick his dick. He didn’t put it in his mouth again while Tommy interviewed over the phone, he just licked and lightly stroked the shaft.
“Hello, suh. Yessuh, I swears, I do got experience. Yessuh, I ain’t gonna lie to ya, ain’t nevuh tiled a bathroom all by myself. But I done it. I know all ‘bout that, yessuh. And you can rest yerself unworried, suh, I’s a Christian man. I’s a God-fearin’ man, uh-huh.” His voice broke when a drop of precum leaked onto Rob’s tongue. “Yessuh. I got dat punc-tual-ity, yessuh, I always do. I do good work. I was raised propuh.”
His dick twitched in Rob’s mouth. Rob kissed the tip as loudly as he could, giggling when Tommy frowned at him. Rob licked up all the precum that dripped out of his dick.
“I only ask that ya treat me wit’ respect as well. I only ask fo’ you to treat me like a man, ya hear. I don’t like to hear no kinda disrespec’. Ya got me? Huh? I see, yeah. Yessuh,” he said. “I ain’t gonna lie to you, suh. I do gots a problem wit’ the drink, yeah. I’s man enough to admit dat. Uh-huh.”
Tommy used one hand to keep the phone on his ear, while his other hand grabbed Rob by the head. He bucked his hips one time, slamming his dick all the way into Rob’s throat. He listened intently to the phone as he did, like he didn’t even notice what his cock was doing. He smiled and stuck his tongue out when he was all the way in Rob’s gullet, and he moaned loudly.
Then he blushed and stammered into the phone. “Sorry, suh, I was, uh… I just stubbed my toe, so sorry,” he said. “I ain’t know ‘bout that, suh. It might not be the best way to go. I do drink me some ‘lcohol, that’s fo’ sho’. Uh-huh. I ain’t gonna lie to you, suh, I’s a Christian man, I do drink e’ry night. The Lord ain’t seen fit to take that burden from my back. I pray e’ry night, both befo’ and aftuh I get drunk, ya hear. I pray fo’ guidance, yessuh, and I pray for forgiveness.”
As Rob started to stroke Tommy’s cock in earnest again, he looked up at Tommy’s serious face. Tommy had one arm crossed over his flat belly, rubbing against the blond hairs there. Rob suckled loudly and moistly on his cockshaft, which throbbed and precummed down Rob’s throat.
“Alright, yessuh, thank you, thank you fo’ the oppo’tunity, yessuh, I do ‘ppreciate it, mighty fine,” Tommy said. Then he hung up the phone. He snorted. “He ain’t hire me.”
“Oh? What happened?”
“He say he gonna need me to do some drivin’. The tiles he wanna use is in some far-away warehouse or somethin’. He say he gonna make me take a breathalyzer first. He say insurance make him do it,” Tommy said. “I can’t get no kinda DUI no mo’, or I do some big-boy time in the slammer. That’s what my lawyer say last time. So I tell him, I tells ya friend, I tells him nah, I can’t lie. I gonna be drunk, at least at the legal limit from the night befo’. ‘nless you pick me up from jail like you done today, that’s ‘bout the only way I might be sober fo’ him. God ain’t seen fit to take the burden of drink off my back, ya hear.”
“Uh-huh. That’s too bad, I’m sorry to hear that,” Rob said. He was too horny to really care, though a part of him was annoyed that Tommy hadn’t even been willing to try to quit drinking for the job. Rob was also certain that his friend was making that up — he had no breathalyzer, he was just saying that to scare Tommy into admitting he would never show up sober.
“Hey, suh, I wanna-” Tommy said. He snorted and threw his head back to moan, biting his lip as he nearly orgasmed right then and there. He pulled his dick out and let it flop against Rob’s face. It smelled like hay and saliva and sweat, and it made Rob’s mind race as dizzying desire overwhelmed him. Tommy took a deep breath. “I’s in need, ya know that, ya hear. You seem like the kinda man who wanna help a Christian brotha out, and ya know I don’t take no kinda charity, no way. Huh-huh. I don’t do dat. I got some pride left in these old bones.”
“What do you want, Tommy?” Rob didn’t meant to be impatient, but he desperately wanted to get back to swallowing his dick.
“I want you to forgive me my debt fo’ that child support shit, and I need more. If you gimme ‘bout two hundred, I can buy enough liquor to last me for weeks and still have enough to pay child support fo’ this month, ya hear. That’ll keep me outta jail long enough to get a job.”
“A job that doesn’t expect you to come to work sober?” Rob asked. Tommy wrinkled his nose, and Rob smiled. He didn’t mean to be confrontational — he wasn’t Tommy’s social worker, after all.
“That’s fair, I say. I say that’s fair,” Tommy said. “But the Lord ain’t seen fit to tell me to quit drinkin’. The Lord ain’t say that yet. Maybe it’ll happen tomorrow. Maybe the day aftuh that, I dunno. The Lord works in mysterious ways, suh, as I’m sure you well know.”
“Uh-huh.” Rob inhaled deeply from the musky cock that rested and pulsated atop his face, as he looked up into Tommy’s ultra-serious mien.
“So I’s askin’ for two hundred, suh, but I wouldn’t be askin’ if I ain’t wanna earn it, like a real man. I dunno if you know this ‘bout me, but I don’t take charity. Nope, no way, no how,” he said, and even though he had told Rob that maybe a hundred times in the week or so they had known each other, he seemed to be genuinely unaware that he had said it before. He took a deep breath. “I’s willin’ to treat you in a most unchristian way, if that’s the way you want it.”
Rob would have had no idea what that meant, but from the way Tommy raised his eyebrows and stroked his twitching cock, Rob guessed it was exactly what he wanted. He glanced over at the phone to be sure his father’s voicemail would pick up this conversation.
“You’ll stick it in my ass?”
Tommy blanched, frowned and chuckled nervously. “Damn, you really speak blunt, suh, but yeah, that’s what I’s sayin’.”
“Have you ever done it before?”
“Nossuh!” he said. Then he paused. “I been drinkin’ a lotta drink fo’ a long time, suh.” He put his hand over his heart. “I ain’t wanna lie to ya, suh. This man I know — Willie — he tells me one time that we get drunk together in a tramp camp out near the highway — not the highway here in Tuscaloosa, this was down in Florida — and we get so drunk, me and Willie, we get so drunk we can’t even stand, I swear to God. I wasn’t composed-mentis — that’s a legal term, ya hear — and I ain’t even remembuh it the next day. But Willie, he a color boy, not that I’s prejudice, but he say the next day, he say that we was real drunk and I was attemptin’ at his asshole all night. Color boys say dat, yessuh. But I wasn’t right in the mind then, and I don’t rightly remembuh it. I punched that Willie in the face and I ain’t even ask fo’giveness. He say we was drunk and messin’ each other off — color boys call that ‘sixty-ninin’’, yessuh, and then he say he stick me in the asshole, and I say no way, no how, I don’t do that, nossuh. I don’t let no white man in my ass, and I don’t let no color man in there neither. I ain’t prejudice. He say we both do it, but I punch him in the face.” Tommy laughed. “He punch me back, but we make up and get to smokin’ some ice togethuh, all forgotten. We was both smokin’ that crystal meth-am-phetamine then. I quit that now, by the grace of God, thank you, suh.”
As he told that long story, Rob got into position. He bent over on all fours, above his own cell phone so he could be sure his father would listen to every moist sound and intense moan. He slathered lube all over his ass.
It was only as he finished his story, talking about smoking meth and over-enunciating the word methamphetamine, that Tommy got in position to enter Rob’s ass. He kneeled and got behind Rob, who cringed as soon as he felt that thick prick at the entrance to his ass.
Tommy grabbed Rob’s hair, which was just long enough that he could grip it. He screwed up his face like a mean thug for a moment, and he slapped Rob’s asscheek.
“I ain’t gonna stick ya real mean-like. Ya reckon it’s okay if I hold onto yer hair, suh?”
“That’s fine.”
“I just likes to hold on, like for somethin’ to grip. Plus I can pull on it just a bit, make ya tighten up some. Ya just gotta tell me to stop or slow down,” Tommy said, sounding like he really hoped Rob would make him stop.
But Rob didn’t. He was so horny he backed his ass up while Tommy was still talking, so in the end, Tommy didn’t penetrate Rob — instead Rob penetrated himself with Tommy’s dick.
He threw his head back and moaned as Tommy’s cock hit his prostate, inch after inch of it squeezing into his ass. Rob had rarely accepted such a thick slab of meat, so he struggled to take in the whole thing.
“Oh god! It’s so big!” Rob knew that men like Tommy pounded better if their ego was stroked, so Rob kept shouting about how huge Tommy’s cock was. Sure enough, that made Tommy grin like an ape and bristle with pride.
“Here we go, suh, I do hope this is worth it,” Tommy said. He groaned and grunted as he forced the last few inches of his dick in.
They were both motionless for a moment. Rob shivered as he struggled to adjust to the cock in his ass and the wave of pleasure enveloping him. Tommy looked down at his dick disappearing in Rob’s ass as though he had no idea how it had gotten there. He chuckled to himself and was again struck silent for a few seconds. Though Tommy’s accent had turned him on, Rob was glad to have a few moments to think as his prostate came alive.
Then at last Tommy began pounding away at Rob’s ass. He pulled gently on Rob’s hair to keep his head up, even as Tommy pushed down on Rob’s upper back. He placed Rob’s shoulders on the floor, his ass in the air and his head upraised just enough that he could see.
“Damn, suh, from behind you look a lot like a girl,” Tommy said. “A girl who got a real athletic back, that’s nice. A li’l hairy, but hey, I know I ain’t no prize. I met girls a lot hairier than you and I ain’t kick ‘em out of bed. Or outta the tent I be sleepin’ in, or whatevuh. I don’t fuck wit’ prostitutes, mind you suh.” He groaned again and slammed his dick in so hard his balls slapped against Rob’s thigh.
“Uh-huh.” Rob reached behind himself and massaged Tommy’s balls. It wasn’t clear Tommy even realized he was doing it — Tommy’s mind was fixated on the pleasure and the horror of his dick in a man’s asshole. Rob’s fingers slipped behind Tommy’s balls, rubbing that sensitive spot where his sac met his taint. The thick nest of blond hairs there was choked with dried-on sweat.
Tommy stopped moving. He coughed. “Ah, damn, does this make me a rentboy, suh?”
“Uh… No, you’re just…” Rob winced. It was hard to concentrate on speaking with such a huge cock throbbing inside his ass. It was right on his prostate, sending jolts of bliss through his body. “You’re just givin’ me a lesson on masculinity. I’m small and weak-“
Tommy chortled. He mulled around the word masculinity in his mouth and repeated it, dick twitching inside Rob’s twisting body. “Muscle-innity? Wuzzat?”
“It’s, a, uh… bein’ a man” Rob said.
“Well hooty toot, ain’t that right. I ain’t no pervuht, just doin’ what I gotta do to make some scratch. Wish I could tell my sister that and have her get impressed. She called me a failure and a loser, can you believe that? She accuse me of stealin’ cash from her when I was sleepin’ on her couch,” Tommy said. He started moving his hips again, rubbing his dick on every surface of Rob’s guts. Tommy moaned and bit his lip. “I did steal cash from her, mind you. I done sought forgiveness fo’ it already,” he said. “But she ain’t know I done it. She ain’t have no kinda clues ‘bout that. She just ‘ssumed. To me, that ain’t right. She my sister. She should gimme the benefit of the doubt. Ya hear me, suh?”
“Yeah. Uh-huh.”
He chuckled dryly. “I can tell you want me to blow my load. You like, uh, nut, huh, suh?” He shuddered as though that thought was unspeakably disgusting.
“Yeah. Stick it in me,” Rob said, still too distracted by his ass to speak normally, so his voice was wrenched by moans.
“Now when I fuck a girl in the ass, she nevuh want me to fill her up inside. Huh? You want me to pull out? I like to fill her up, cuz that’s in the Bible,” Tommy said. “Spillin’ yer seed is bad, I know that. I hears this preacher say it one time.”
“Yeah. Just cum inside me, okay,” Rob said. He rolled his eyes while he shot his own load into his hand. Some of it even landed on the phone on the floor, which still whirred as it recorded Tommy’s voice and the sound of Rob’s orgasm. Rob smiled — his father was going to hate this. Tommy’s earnest nature, his Christianity, his dirtiness, his redneck accent, he was everything Rob’s dad despised.
“Yessuh, I am glad you say dat,” he said. He spat into the palm of his hand and used that as additional lube. He groaned and slammed his dick in. He pulled it all the way out and did so again, grunting each time, as Rob bit his own lip, the waves of pleasure overwhelming him with each thrust of Tommy’s cock.
Rob could feel his orgasm approach. He writhed, his sensitive ass tingling so intensely Rob could do nothing but bury his face in his own arms. But that didn’t last long because Tommy pulled on his hair as he climaxed.
“Aw, fuck yeah…” He spoke softly for once, and he paused, allowing a moment of delectable silence to fill the room. “Gonna shoot so much you ain’t nevuh stop drippin’, suh… Got a ‘nfinite ‘mount of cum to fill ya up wit’, suh. I always shoots some big loads, like a color boy. I ain’t color, mind ya, and I ain’t prejudice.”
A big jet of creamy cum hit Rob’s prostate, reawakening his own orgasm. Rob twisted and contorted, but Tommy kept a tight grip on his hair.
Then Tommy collapsed his body onto Rob’s back. That pinned Rob down as Tommy gyrated his hips, shooting wad after wad of hot cum inside his ass. It was thicker than most cum, or so Rob thought he sensed as it trickled into his body. He could feel it sticking to his innards, soaking into him, its heat seeping into his flesh.
Rob moaned, but the sound was overpowered by Tommy’s own moan. Tommy’s ropy, dusty, sunburnt muscles flexed where they pressed against Rob’s bare back, and Rob moaned beneath his grasp.
“Ya feel me fillin’ you up, suh? That how you like it? Huh? Girls don’t like that, or some of them do but I think they just prostitutes and sluts, that’s what they is. They usually make me pull out, shoot all over the floor, but I don’t like dat, nossuh. I like-” he paused and his voice broke as he moaned again, another few drops of cum dripping into Rob’s ass. “I likes this, yessuh. I do this fo’ two hundred anytime, yessuh, that’s fo’ sho’. Ain’t Christian to do it, ain’t propuhly Christian, but that’s why the Cath-olics invented forgiveness, yessuh.”
At last they were both done. Rob didn’t know how long he laid there. It felt like eons. All he could focus on was the feel of Tommy’s muscles writhing above his back, his cum trickling into his ass and his breath condensing on Rob’s neck.
“Alright, suh, that okay?”
“Yeah, Tommy, you can get off me now,” Rob said, breathless and strained.
“Yessuh,” he pulled off. He wrinkled his face at sight of his cum-coated cock, dripping with santorum and goop. He laughed at himself. “Well, shit, I wasn’t sure I could do it, but I did it. Yessuh, I did.”
“Yeah. That was good, Tommy,” Rob said. He took a deep breath.
Tommy crossed his arms over his wiry chest and shot Rob a suspicious look. “You ain’t gonna stiff me, right? Two hundred. That’s what you said.” He thought for a moment. “You pretty rich, right?”
“Well, not exactly,” Rob said. His own cock was rock-hard, even though he had cum a couple minutes ago. That’s because the stink of Tommy’s hobo armpits filled the room, and Rob kept playing with Tommy’s rubbery soft cock and wiry muscles. “But I do okay. You said you’ve been in prison before, right? Not just jail-“
“Ayyuh, yessuh, I been gone to lockup buncha times, big-boy prison too, a year and a half once, back befo’ I was a God-fearin’ man,” he said. “That’s how I seen pervuhsion befo’, I know how bad that taste, so I bet — I ain’t taste it, mind you, I know from rep’tation. I hold my own in prison.” He looked away.
“So you’ve never tasted cock?”
“Nosuh, nosuh, nosuh,” he said. “And I nevuh would, nevuh. I tol’ this one color fella he best shank me, cuz no how no way, uh-huh, I ain’t puttin’ his nasty old thing in my mouth.”
“Oh, okay,” Rob said. He had hoped maybe there was a chance he could get his dick in Tommy’s mouth, but he knew that was always a longshot, so he just shrugged.
But Rob saw a hesitant look on Tommy’s face. Rob said, “Four hundred.”
“Eight. I don’t taste no color fella prick, nosuh.”
Rob nodded. “Fine,” he said. His heart pounded. Was he really about to get his dick wet in this redneck?
Tommy got on his knees, weary look on his face, his mouth already puckering. He looked at Rob’s dick and wrinkled his nose. “I nevuh done it — I love me some drugs, you see, but I tol’ that color fella I ain’t tastin’ no hog fo’ it,” he said. “Tastin’ like shit anyhows, on ‘ccount of he always stickin’ his homeboys in the butthole.” He picked up Rob’s dick with two fingers and winced. He opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out. Just before it touched Rob’s dick, he closed his mouth again. “You ain’t gonna stiff me, right?”
“Swear to God,” Rob said.
Tommy closed his eyes. “Man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do, you feel me?”
Rob nodded. “No judgement, it’s-” He gasped as his cock slid into Tommy’s mouth. Tommy immediately deep-throated him most of the way down, but as soon as Rob’s cock touched the back of his tongue, Tommy violently retched.
Tommy sat back and closed his mouth like he thought he might vomit. He paused. “First taste is always the nastiest,” he said as though that was a cliche he’d said before. “I-” His face turned pale and he snapped his mouth shut. He got up and hurried the best he could with his pants around his ankles. He went to the bathroom and bent over the toilet, retching into it. “Sorry, suh, sorry, I’s tryin’ — first taste is always the worst, makes ya puke, but I’ll get-” He retched again. “I’ll get through it, swear to God.”
Rob came into the bathroom then. Tommy was bent over the toilet dry-heaving and spitting. His pants were still down so his asshole was bare, wrinkled, pale as could be but studded with off-blond hairs, especially running up his asscrack. Rob came up behind Tommy and thwacked his cock against Tommy’s asscrack.
“Don’chu even try and stick it in my hole,” Tommy said. He turned back around, leaning his back against the toilet. He eyed Rob’s cock with disdain.
“I wasn’t tryin’ to stick it in, just playin’,” Rob said. He slowly got closer, expecting Tommy to open his mouth. But he didn’t. Rob got closer and closer, until his dick touched Tommy’s lip. He didn’t react.
Then he opened his mouth a crack. Rob slid his dick in. Again, Tommy gagged, but not as violently, and Rob was able to keep his dick in there.
Tommy kept his mouth opened wide and his tongue low, minimizing the amount of Rob’s dick that touched his tongue. His chapped lip rubbed against it.
“Oh god, yeah…” Rob moaned loudly. He grabbed Tommy by the ears and pushed his dick in as a sudden orgasm overwhelmed him. The change in angle meant his cock rubbed thoroughly against Tommy’s tongue, and he gagged once more.
“No wai-sshh, I cauuhn’t-” Tommy tried to pull off Rob’s dick, but he was pinned with the toilet behind him, and Rob had a grip on both ears. He let go to hold onto Tommy by the mullet on the back of his head. His hairy was dusty and coarse, and he let out a furious stomach-churning retch as Rob’s dick slid all the way into Tommy’s throat.
“Sorry, just a sec, just a second,” Rob said softly, his face turning red. A jet of cum hit the back of Tommy’s throat, dripping straight down his gullet.
This time when Tommy gagged as the second cumwad hit him, he spat up all the cum he had swallowed so far. His whole body writhed as a big ball of spit and semen slipped out onto Rob’s cock. Tommy finally managed to get himself off Rob’s dick.
“Nasssshuh-” Tommy tried to hold back a vomit, but he couldn’t. He twisted sideways so he could vomit into the toilet bowl. His stomach was empty because he had thrown up before, then spat up Rob’s first cumwad. Rob wasn’t done cumming though. His third spurt of cum landed on the strap of Tommy’s wifebeater on his shoulder.
Then Rob moved to the side of the toilet, so he could jam his dick back into Tommy’s mouth, as Tommy let out a hoarse breath and spat again. Tommy didn’t see it coming, so Rob managed to get his fourth and final cumwad into Tommy’s mouth.
“Sorry, sorry,” Rob said. He thought he shouldn’t have to apologize, since he was paying good money for this, but he figured apologizing would make Tommy more likely to come back. “I’m all done.”
Despite being done, Rob didn’t stop moving his limpening dick in and out of Tommy’s mouth. Tommy was hunched over the toilet, letting fluids drip from his mouth into the bowl. Finally he took Rob’s dick in two fingers and held him back. He closed his mouth, spit again and took a deep breath.
“Alright, alright, you got’cha money’s worth. Damn, that’s the dickens! Still, you ain’t taste as bad as that color fella,” he said. “Or so I hears.” He stood up and pulled his pants up.
“I’ll get you your money. I’ll have to write a check, I don’t have that much cash. What kinda fee will you pay at the check-cashing place.”
“Like five percent plus, uh…” His voice trailed off. “Hundred bucks. Five percent plus a hundred bucks.”
That was clearly a lie, he was exaggerating the cost. But Rob didn’t care. Money was no object to him. He wrote out a check for two hundred dollars, which would more than cover any check-cashing fee. He didn’t get up, his body still too weak and basking in the afterglow of his orgasm. He passed the check over to Tommy.
“Thank ya, suh,” Tommy said. He stood, stretched his knees and wiped his cock off with a napkin. “I thanks ya mightily. I’m just gonna go cash this check, yessuh. I got big plans fo’ it. Gonna buy just a little liquor. Enough to get me drunk fo’ a couple nights. Gonna make this money last, yessuh.”
“And child support,” Rob said weakly while Tommy got dressed. “Don’t forget, you want to be able to pay your child support for a couple months. Or else you’ll just get arrested again.”
Tommy paused for a long time. It was clear he had no intention of paying his child support. He stared at the check for a long time. He smiled at Rob. “Yessuh, ‘course. Thanks a lot fo’ ya help, suh. I swear, I be back. I am gonna turn my life around, yessuh.”
“Okay, see ya, Tommy,” Rob said.
As the door slammed shut behind Tommy, Rob knew that was it, he was not going to see Tommy again. All of that money would be spent on booze, and it would all be gone in a week or two. Tommy was a drifter, and it was time for him to drift away.

The Alpha in a Black Leather Jacket

When bikers fill up Avery’s town, he isn’t sure how to react. Then one studly alpha catches his eye, and before Avery knows it, he’s made an offer the biker is too horny to turn down!

Can Avery get that macho biker to stop scaring the customers away from his store?!

Read it now as an ebook!

Or read the whole thing here!

Avery sighed as motorcycles whizzed past outside his flower shop. He wasn’t even sure he should bother to be open today — there was a biker festival just down the street, so Avery’s hometown was temporarily home to thousands of bikers. They roared by, engines rumbling like dragons.
He didn’t think they were likely to buy very many flowers. But as long as they were around, not many people were out on the street, and no one was out shopping for things like flowers. So it had killed his business for the day.
Oh no, there’s one right outside… Avery’s heart fluttered for a couple reasons. Firstly, the biker milling about had an incredible physique, and he sent Avery’s blood into overdrive. Second, he was scary, and he made Avery want to run and hide. Third, he was intimidating and his presence would guarantee that no customers came into the shop today.
But Avery couldn’t decide whether to run in fear or call the police or ask to jerk him off. This biker looked like he might consider it with the right persuasion.
He was swarthy-skinned, with an old-fashioned mustache that was well-groomed atop a beard that was scruffy and poorly-groomed. He wore a series of black clothes — they blended in, in layers, so much that it was hard to tell how many shirts, vests and patches he wore. But above it all was a sterling black leather jacket, under which his chest was broad. His hair was long and curly, in a jet-black mullet that piled up behind his neck.
Was he dangerous? He certainly didn’t look safe. But Avery would feel like an asshole if he called the police on some random man who wasn’t a threat. He’d look like a fool too — this town was full of bikers; the cop would tell Avery that a lot of people are going to look rough today and he should try to relax, it would be patronizing and humiliating.
But Avery didn’t want him hanging out in front of the store. There was no way anyone would come in to buy flowers if they had to go past this biker. Sure enough, as though intending to demonstrate it, the biker scowled at two nice ladies walking past.
“Smile, lady, c’mon,” said the biker, his voice a low throaty growl. “You’d be prettier if ya smiled.”
The women just quickened their pace and kept going. The biker watched and lit a cigarette.
Avery took a deep breath. He thought he needed to go out there and do something. He didn’t know what, but it needed to be something.
He went out there without a second thought. The biker turned to look at him.
“Hey, uh, so, I got-“
The biker grunted. “I ain’t stayin’.”
A long pause filled the air, and Avery blushed. This biker was thickly built, and he reeked of engine oil and stale sweat — not like he was sweaty, but more like it had soaked into the black leather of his biker jacket.
“I’m sorry?”
“You came out here to stay I can’t hang out in front of ya store, right?” The biker peered inside the window. He scoffed. “Fuckin’ flowers… You know there’s an Internet, right? You can buy flowers online. Probably.”
“Some people like buying flowers in stores.”
The biker rolled his eyes. “Well, I ain’t stayin’ so don’t worry. My bike gots a pro’lem and it ain’t runnin’, boy.” He pointed to a motorcycle parked on the side of the road. “Waitin’ for my buddy to show up wit’ some tools.”
“Oh, uh, well, do you have to wait right here in front of my door?”
“You want me to buy somethin’? I ain’t got shit for cash, man. I got ‘bout five bucks to my name, not countin’ what I needs for gas to get home, and beer — you best believe I ain’t goin’ wit’out beer at the festival, boy, swear to God, I’ll box ya goddamn ears.”
“Oh, well… I dunno, I don’t, uh… my flowers are all more expensive, uh, than…” Avery’s voice trailed off because the biker glared at him, eyes drilling into his soul. Avery cleared his throat.
“Whatchoo want? Why you still talkin’ to me?”
“I, uh…” Avery cleared his throat. “I thought… uh… maybe-“
“Get it out, boy,” the biker said. He grabbed Avery by the chin, his callused fingers rubbing over Avery’s smooth skin.
Avery went pale. “I wanted, uh-“
“I ain’t a pervert,” the biker said, chewing on his lip as he forced Avery to look him in the eye. His hot breath condensed on Avery’s lips — it was virtually a kiss. Avery instinctively reached out and touched the man’s chest for support, holding onto his powerful body. He sensed curly chest hairs underneath those layers of biker gear.
“Good…” Avery’s voice was a mousy squeak.
The biker laughed, a harsh and guttural sound. It didn’t sound like a real laugh, more like he wanted Avery to think he was laughing at him. Still he was so close they nearly kissed.
Then, they did.
The biker pecked Avery right on the lips. He tasted of cigarettes and smog, and he guffawed at the shocked look on Avery’s face. He shoved Avery against the wall in front of his door.
“Don’t worry, ma’am, I’ll be gone toot-sweet, my dear,” the biker said. “Just as soon as my buddy shows up wit’ his tools.”
Avery blushed and went back into his shop. His hands were clenched into fists as a torrent of confusing emotions enveloped him — he was angry, humiliated, aroused, mollified, eager, offended and frightened all at once.
But it was his hard dick that made him struggle the most to keep focus. He tried to do his inventory — he’d be meaning to do that anyway, and it was easier now that no one was in the shop. But he kept finding himself looking out the window at the biker.
It was during such a moment, when Avery lifted his face, that he saw the biker leaning casually against the parking meter in front of the shop. He had raised his ass up — cradled by mud-splattered black jeans which were speckled with pale bleach spots — and shook it subtly. He turned around and guffawed again, looking in the dark window.
It was impossible to see in past the display case in the window, because Avery had purchased very dark glass (he hated glare). The biker had been performing like that for some time, laughing at what he imagined Avery was doing. He turned around and grabbed his dick through his jeans, showing off its size and heft and aiming it towards the window.
For the first time, Avery wondered if this biker actually wanted something from him. He was so used to needing to make the first move on a fresh slice of rough trade, he didn’t always think of the possibility that they wanted to do it too, that they were trying to make him do it.
They wouldn’t just ask.
The biker paced in front of the shop. After awhile, he stopped teasing Avery through the window. He stroked his scraggly beard hairs and alternated between leaning on his motorcycle, catcalling at women and mean-mugging men.
Finally, the biker checked his phone, threw his hands in the air and came in. He looked at Avery as though trying to gauge whether or not he had noticed what he did out there. Avery kept his face stony and expressionless.
“My battery’s dead. I don’t think my buddy’s coming,” the biker said. He growled. “You got a outlet?” He looked around until he found an outlet, then plugged his phone charger in before Avery could answer.
“Uh… So…-“
“You don’t talk much, huh?”
“Hmmm… No.” Avery blushed. “I, uh.. Well, maybe, I like… Sometimes, I talk more… I’m not exactly shy, but-“
“Uh-huh, yeah.” The biker waited for something he didn’t say out loud. His dark eyes looked Avery over. “What’s ya name, boy?”
“Avery.”
“I’m Cooter.” He absent-mindedly rifled through some flowers by the counter. “You, uh… you got work? I gotta get my bike fixed. I ain’t, y’know… a flower-buyin’ kinda guy. But I got, y’know… skills, in like… other shit.”
“Hmmm… Like what?” Avery asked. He was now more confident that Cooter wanted to get paid to let Avery jerk him off. Avery had been around long enough to sense it radiating off him.
“Well… I learned how to cook in prison. I know you ain’t a restaurant or nothin’, but you know…” Cooter laughed that dry, throaty laugh. “I can’t really cook. I can cook spaghetti for like six hundred guys, but I always fuck it up cooking for just me.” He bit his lip. “I ain’t got no skills, ‘kay? Least, not no legal ones. You want me to cook up some meth?”
Avery blushed. “No…”
“You scared of me, huh, boy? Don’t let me bein’ in prison scare you neither, I ain’t never stab no one who ain’t deserve it.” He paused. “I mean, that ain’t strictly true, lemme be honest wit’ ya, I gotta be honest under God’s watchful eye, right? Lemme be honest, I did done stab this one bitch on account of he was lookin’ at me wrong, but he turned out to be a child molester anyhow. I ain’t know that then, so, y’know… it’s questionable, that’s all I’m sayin’.”
“Right… Uh… cool…” Avery was finding it very hard to concentrate. He was positive Cooter wanted to be paid for a swing on his dick. He even grabbed his cock through his jeans. Avery was overwhelmed by fear and desire, and the scent of his asphalt-reeking leather jacket — he had fallen off his motorcycle enough that the blacktop had been ground into the leather. His limbs even vibrated a little like he still imagined himself atop his motorcycle.
“You lookin’ like you wanna say somethin’ but you too scared. Huh? You scared, boy?” He spoke more softly and touched Avery’s cheek, pinching it like a grandmother. Though he seemed to be trying to be less intimidating, it only came across as even more frightening.
“Umm… Yeah.”
Cooter rolled his eyes. “Man, I ain’t a prideful fella.” He got down on his knees and lowered his eyes. “See? Now you taller ‘an me, and you ain’t gotta look me in the eye. So whatchoo think? You know a way I can earn some money? Maybe I got some skills I learn in prison you might enjoy.”
“Well… Maybe. I, uh… I was kind of hoping, that, uh… maybe-” Avery caught a glimpse of Cooter’s eyes when he glanced up, and Avery blushed. “I…”
“Ah, man, I done scare you, huh? You wanna punch me? You might feel better ‘bout it if you punched me?” Cooter reached up and touched Avery’s lips. He pulled his tongue out of his mouth. “What’s wrong? I know you got words on ya tongue. You prolly got all kinda… remnants on ya tongue. You got remnants of different activities on there? I bet you do all kinda things with that tongue. That’s a nice, big, wet tongue. I could come up wit’ lots of activities you could do wit’ that if we shared a cell.” He chuckled. “But we don’t. So you gotta come up wit’ them activities, and you gots to pay, boy. You ready to pay?” He leaned back and shrugged off his jacket. “Go’n, punch me, it’ll make you feel better.”
“I, uh… I don’t want to.” Avery felt weak and tinny.
“Then what do you want to do?” Cooter closed his eyes. “You just lemme know.” He pursed his lips like he was kissing the air. “Or you can just do it.”
Avery couldn’t resist it. He planted his lips on Cooter’s. Just like the kiss out on the sidewalk, it lasted only a moment, and it was chaste and dry. As soon as Avery’s tongue tried to enter Cooter’s mouth, Cooter pushed him away.
“I ain’t kissin’ a feller,” Cooter said. “So use ya words and make me an offer.”
“I’ll… I’d like you to cornhole me,” Avery said with a blush.
“How much?”
“One hundred dollars-“
Cooter stood and went to the cash register. He shook it open and counted out more than three hundred dollars from the till — including the twenties and fifties that were under the drawer. “It just so happens, boy, that my price for that is exactly three hundred twenty-seven dollars. That is a mighty coincidence on account of that’s the amount you got in the till.” He paused. “And get me some flowers.”
“What?”
“I need flowers. Somethin’ classy, for an old lady. For my great-aunt. Her birthday is Monday.”
“Oh, uh… Well, we have this one, it’s very nice-“
“Just gimme the goddamn flowers, asshole,” he said with a snarl. He grabbed the bouquet out of Avery’s hand. He didn’t even look at it, he just set the bouquet down by the door. “Alright.” He stood there by the shop counter. “Well? You gonna start jerkin’ or what? Don’t even try to make me take no dick, lemme tell you. I don’t do that shit.”
“I… Can we go up to my apartment?” Avery asked. He locked the store door.
“Fine.” Cooter sighed. “Let’s go.”
Avery brought him into the back of the shop, which led to a stairwell. It was narrow and humid here, with spiderwebs in each corner of the ceiling. The dust was visible in the rays of late afternoon sunlight that filled the air.
Cooter placed one hand on Avery’s ass. He gripped his jeans by the waistband and held on, preventing Avery from taking the next step up the staircase. He let out a growl and grinned when Avery turned around.
Avery’s heart raced. Was he going to punch him? Was he going to rob him? (More than he already sort of had?)
“Lotta folks think that, in prison, you ramrod a man in the shower, or you ramrod a man in ya cell, or whatever, ya feel me?” He passed Avery, standing higher than him on the stairs, and when Avery was too engrossed to respond — overwhelmed still by the awkward situation — he took Avery’s hand and placed it on his belly. His muscles rippled. “Ya feel me now?”
“Uh-huh.”
“But in fact, there’s guards in the shower, and there’s cameras in ya cell, and you ain’t allowed to ram, boy, they’ll stop you on account of it’s a law. So when the pressure get too much and you gots to ram, you do it somewhere else. Like in a hallway, or in the stairwell or some shit,” Cooter said. “So I wanna do it here.” He put both hands on Avery’s head and pushed him to his knees.
Avery was too short to reach Cooter’s crotch like this. Cooter was a few steps higher than Avery, so he had to sit on the stairs and spread his legs wide. He unceremoniously unzipped his jeans and let a darkly tan cock flop out.
It was thick and meaty, still limp but Avery could tell when he got close that it had been half-hard recently, maybe even fully erect. Cooter had definitely been trying to get a nut off for awhile.
“Hey…” He grabbed Avery by the hair, just at the moment Avery wrapped his lips around the tip of his funky cock. “A man’s gotta take whatever affection he can get.” Cooter pulled Avery’s head up, kissed him on the lips and rammed his tongue into his mouth.
Avery squealed and squirmed in surprise. His hands clawed at Cooter’s chest, which was hard like iron beneath his leather clothes. Avery’s tongue tasted like cigarettes and steel, and it was huge, so it filled up Avery’s mouth. Avery’s hands wrapped around Cooter’s shoulders, and for a moment, they made intense, passionate love with their mouths.
Just a moment though. Once Avery got over his shock and awe, and started kissing Cooter back, Cooter let go and pushed him back down to his crotch.
“Jerk me off, boy,” Cooter said. “And don’t try to kiss me no more. I don’t kiss boys.”
“Oh… … Uh… Sorry,” Avery said. He lowered his head to his crotch, while Cooter lit another cigarette and took his shirts off. Avery suckled on his cocktip — he had gotten fully erect while being kissed — and looked up at his face and his bare chest.
Cooter was covered in tattoos, and a few scars. There was a bullet wound on his belly, and an oddly-shaped dragon over his heart — Avery soon realized it was oddly-shaped because it covered up a swastika that had been carved into his chest.
His dick tasted like sweat and industrial soap, and it was firm, veiny, throbbing like a motorcycle engine as it rubbed against Avery’s tongue. Cooter gripped Avery by the ears, dragging his head up and down on his shaft.
“Open wide, boy…”
Soon, Cooter stood, still using both hands on Avery’s ears and his lips to keep the lit cigarette in his mouth. He swayed his hips, grinding his dick in deep. He didn’t ram Avery’s throat in an aggressive or mean way, not like a lot of alphas did — Avery wouldn’t have minded — he made sweet love to his throat. He didn’t stop when Avery choked, but he wasn’t violent about it either. He just clucked his tongue and kept on plowing.
Soon his balls smacked and rubbed against Avery’s chin. Cooter took a deep drag on his cigarette. He let go of Avery’s head, watching him slide up and down on his moistened shaft.
“Hmmm… You want me to stick you, boy?”
Avery nodded without taking Cooter’s dick out of his mouth. He suckled moistly, slurping down every drop of salty precum he could find. He kept slurping even as Cooter tried to pull his head off. Avery giggled — he liked the frustrated look on Cooter’s face.
Cooter snarled and bent Avery over on the stairs. Since they faced opposite directions, Cooter had to go over Avery to be lower than him on the narrow staircase. He could have stepped around Avery’s body to get beneath him, but instead he sat on his back and rubbed his hairy ass — laughing the whole way — until he was lower on the staircase.
“You like my ass-slide, boy,” Cooter said. He chuckled. “Now, I am guessin’ this is prolly implied, but lemme be totally clear, son, when we are done here, you ain’t gonna never tell no one ‘bout it. Not the police, not ya priest, ya rabbi, not some other biker you might jerk off a couple hours from now, or a couple decades from now. If’n you ever even think ‘bout tellin’ folks what’s ‘bout to happen, I will bury you in wet cement and I’ll send ya mama a rude limerick describin’ how you died, ya feel me?”
“I won’t tell, I would never-“
“Good.” Cooter didn’t wait for a second. He jammed his dick in, just the tip at first. He grabbed Avery by the hair and held his head in place as Avery howled in pain. Cooter waited for him to stop, with just the first inch or so of his dick in Avery’s ass. “You ready?”
“Yeah. Just go slow.”
Cooter wrapped one of his well-muscled arms around Avery’s throat. Again, he didn’t choke him, but he held on firmly enough he did slightly restrict his breathing. As he did, he pistoned his dick in farther, ignoring Avery’s intense writhing.
“Goddamn!” Avery cried out.
“Hmmm… You ready to get started?” Cooter asked, whispering in his ears. “Here’s the skills I learned in prison, boy. Don’t you nevuh let no one know.” He kissed Avery again, and he rammed his tongue into his mouth. Meanwhile his other hand roamed lower and lower on Avery’s chest, then his belly, then to his crotch.
He held onto Avery’s cock with one hand, while his other kept Avery’s head upright. It took all of Avery’s concentration just to balance on the stairs, even with Cooter holding him in place.
“Good boy, good boy, keep that ass high, keep it up there, I’m goin’ deep now!” Cooter called out and moaned. He whooped like a cowboy. “You feel me? Huh? You like that? Say somethin’.”
“Yeah… Fill me up.” Avery couldn’t say much. He gasped. If he had been jacking himself off, he’d have cum already. But Cooter’s hand was callused and he stroked in a disrhythmic way, somewhat uncomfortable, more like a farmer masturbating his livestock than someone who genuinely wanted to give a reacharound, though the medley of moans and grunts that moistly emanated from his mouth sounded authentically desirous.
“You gonna nut? Tell me when you nut, I wanna hear it. Lemme hear you say it. Use my name, okay? Say ‘Cooter is makin’ me nut cuz he so handsome’, okay? Say that.”
“Cooter… is making… me nut cuz… he’s so… handsome…” Avery moaned and squirmed. He would have collapsed onto his belly but Cooter held him tightly in position.
“Good… I can feel ya nut, don’t worry, I don’t mind you nuttin’ on my hand, ain’t nothin’ wrong wit’ that,” he said. He kept on stroking as Avery’s face turned red. Then, just before cum actually sprayed from Avery’s dick, Cooter again kissed him on the lips from behind.
He rammed hard then. He had waited for that — he loved plowing men who orgasmed with his cock in their ass. He could feel that orgasm in how Avery clenched around his dick, and in the gasping that was swallowed up by Cooter’s bicep.
His tongue slathered spit over Avery’s lips and cheeks, as Cooter reached his own orgasm and couldn’t quite kiss anymore — it felt so good he shuddered and shook, and his tongue lolled over Avery’s face. Cooter loved having his bottom all wrapped up in his arms so he could keep him right at the perfect level, swallowing up his dick and every drop of cum.
His balls crawled up in his sac as he filled Avery with his creamy load. It was thick and hot, and it seeped in Avery’s flesh. It trickled through his body more and more with each thrust of Cooter’s manhood into him.
“You okay, boy? Say you okay, and I’ll take my dick out. Tell me whatchoo think,” Cooter said.
“I… I loved that,” Avery said through gritted teeth. The moist pressure was intense in his ass, and it made him buck in Cooter’s arms.
“Okay, when I pull out, remember, nothing happened here today. No strokin’, no reachin’ around nobody’s delicate body that could be so easily smashed to pieces. No talking ‘bout nothin’ nasty, okay? Rammin’ ain’t a topic of conversation. It’s somethin’ that only happened as long as we’re in this stairwell. When we’re done… I robbed you. If any bikers asked, I grabbed the money outta ya cash register. If any cops ask, you smash ‘em in the face with a whiskey bottle and don’t say a goddamn word. Ya understand?”
Avery nodded. “I, uh… if a cop — ah-” He sighed as Cooter finally pulled his cock out. “If a cop asks, I won’t hit him, I mean…” He sighed again and collapsed on the stairs. “I won’t tell him either, I just, I don’t feel comfortable attacking a cop-“
“Shut up, boy. I was kiddin’.” Cooter wiped his dick off on Avery’s asscheeks, then tucked it back in his pants. He put his clothes on and walked out of the stairwell. “Hey, gimme yo’ phone number, boy.”
“Okay…”
Cooter smiled that harsh, intimidating smile. His mustache quivered. “If’n I don’t find a female who gonna give up the booty tonight, I’ll come over and Avery you again. Have some cash ready.”
“Okay.” Avery was breathless, eyes wide as he watched Cooter leave. Cooter grabbed his pack with the flower for his great-aunt in it and his phone from the outlet, then walked out the door. Avery breathed a sigh of relief.
And he turned over the “open” sign to read “closed”.

The Macho

Sasha is refurbishing a house in California, and that means hiring a painter. When he winds up with the burly Perico instead of the young hunk he preferred, he didn’t know he was in for a wild ride of alpha male machismo, activo and pasivo action and dominant masculinity!

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Or read the whole thing here!

Sasha Lavendeur paid for the painting of the “rec room”, and he went with a low-budget local company, Paint-It Quick, because he was in Santa Monica and California deserved no better than a low-budget company such as that. If Sasha were back in Texas, where he did hail from, he would have chosen a classier outfit.
He needed the guest bedroom painted too, in this hideous home he was renovating in California, but he didn’t want to do that just yet. The house was almost ready to move into. Not that he was going to move in. This home was a flip.
Sasha did not see why anyone would move in, but he was confident the house would sell for a tidy profit.
His knees went weak when he went into the rec room. He had expected Cergio — the eighteen-year old handsome Puerto Rican boy he had hired to do the painting. Instead it was a thirty-something broad-shouldered craggy-faced man with a mustache like a push broom and and an uncomfortably thick ass. He was as handsome as a box of rope and has a similar shape, texture, outlook, attitude and odor.
“Oh. Hi… Where is…?”
“Cergio, he ees gone, señor,” he said with a cluck of the tongue that suggested he was unhappy about that. “I am his father. Perico.” His accent was much thicker than his son’s. He had the broadly lilting accent of a Puerto Rican, which was unusual, even exotic, out here in California.
“Uh… Oh. Okay,” Sasha said, not really listening. He lost himself in Perico’s deep brown eyes and his powerful hands gripping Sasha’s. They shook. Sasha blushed, he couldn’t think about anything but Cergio, who had been positively lovely.
But Perico had a certain brutish charm to him, Sasha thought. Oh, that hair, so wild, untamed, like the mighty mustang of the Texan prairie, and lo, the flecks of paint so tantalizing across his sturdiness… Sasha wanted to run his fingers through that tangled mane. He wanted to wash and comb it then watch Perico get it all greasy and tangled again.
“You want odduh room, señor?” Perico asked. “I will paint, eh?” He counted and put away the money Sasha had done proffer for the rec room. He tucked it into the pocket built into his painter’s overalls.
Sasha blushed and smiled at him, then blushed even more intensely because Perico patted his arm. It was coachly, not at all seductive. It was professional and warm and it made Sasha swoon because he could smell Perico’s clothes and feel his body heat radiating off him.
Perico’s overalls were speckled with multi-colored paint, most freshly the pale seafoam green that he had painted the rec room. “I can paint the other room, señor, two hours. fiddy bucks, señor, I do a good job. Do very good, very quick, more quick than so is my son. He is a lazy and he is gone again and I will hit him in the face for you.” He made a fist to demonstrate.
“That’s not necessary, muh dear Perico-“
But Perico’s face narrowed to slits, and his nostrils flared. “It is needed for yes, I will. He should not have left me, señor, to do this all myself.”
“Hmm… indeed,” Sasha said.
Perico grunted. “So you will hire me for now for the other room, si?”
“Oh, uh, not today, sorry,” Sasha said. “I’m not sure what color we’re going to want that. We might not want the seafoam.”
Perico nodded but didn’t acknowledge it. He led Sasha into the other room, which was currently a dingy, slightly-yellowed white, like the color of an abandoned asylum. The paint was peeling, and Perico pointed it out to Sasha as though he hadn’t noticed it. Sasha always noticed imperfections in decor.
“See? I am to paint, si?” Perico said. “Fiddy dollars for right now, yes?” He paused. “Forty dollars, and I will do it now.” Then, like he had forgotten, he added, “Señor.”
“Yes, it needs to be painted,” Sasha said. “I’m just not sure what color we want it, so I can’t hire you right now.”
Perico shrugged. “I have the paint here, señor. I do it now?”
Sasha shook his head. Perico was big and didn’t seem to want to take no for an answer. He put one of those meaty paws on Sasha’s shoulder and squeezed firmly.
“You want dick? I will ram you and paint the room.” His voice trailed off, and he added another one of those distinctly Puerto Rican tongue-clucks that passed for communication. “Sixty dollars, señor.”
Sasha hesitated, but he already savvied the answer. He batted his eyes as winsome as the most tender of French prostitutes. Sasha pretended to be coy, and Perico roughly grabbed Sasha’s asscheeks like disobedient dough.
He grimaced and grunted into Sasha’s face. Sasha’s heart skipped a beat, he wasn’t expecting this, but he loved it, and his whole body fluttered. “Oh… Ah, Perico-“
“¡Silencio!” Perico said. He waited to make sure Sasha would obey him. Then he very roughly, painfully kneaded the flesh of Sasha’s ass with one hand. He spread his cheeks and ran his fingers through the asscrack. Then he nodded like Sasha had passed his inspection.
Sasha clutched Perico’s chest. “Ooh, papi, can I-“
“No, silencio,” Perico said. He squeezed Sasha’s cheeks, checking his mouth. Sasha couldn’t tell if he was more interested in size, or moistness, or maybe he was looking for sores. But again, he nodded like Sasha was sufficient.
Perico stood there, motionless, muscles rigid. He nodded. “Manos a la obra.”
Sasha smiled. He caressed Perico’s bicep, which Perico flexed for him. He was a hard worker and he was naturally thick, but he was no bodybuilder. Something was alluring about his real, everyday muscles, moreso than any of the bodybuilders Sasha had worshiped.
He reached into Perico’s overalls to test the size of his cock — he wanted to “inspect” Perico since Perico had inspected him. Sasha was glad to feel that it was thick and long and uncut. Sasha nodded.
“Good,” Perico said. He sighed and leaned against the wall. He undid the overalls and let his cock fly — he had obviously done this before, Sasha thought.
That was true. Perico let guys jerk him off all the time. Fellow Puerto Ricans could do it for free, as long as no one saw (or at least no females). But he made gringos pay. He didn’t used to, but after letting this one farmer jerk him off for years, Perico discovered he was paying other hombres for their cocks. He had been insulted that he was never offered money.
This gringo — Sasha — was rich though, Perico was certain of that, and he wasn’t gonna walk away without at least getting some extra work out of it.
Almost as soon as his dick touched Sasha’s tongue, Perico snarled and swiped it away. “You have beer, gringo? I like to drink when I let a male jerk me off.” Perico was scrupulously polite to his clients, but when he let a man jerk him off, he didn’t do it nicely — that was demanded by his machismo.
Sasha nodded. “I’ve got beer, papi, whatever you want.” He got up, the tender taste of the tip of Perico’s dick still dancing on his tongue. He loved its funky, spicy taste, and he adored the unwashed musk of Perico’s crotch that wafted out when he undid his fly.
He had a case of beer in the fridge, bottles of a fine microbrew. He wasn’t sure if Perico would like it, but that was all he had. “I hope you’re okay with an IPA!”
When he went back, Perico still stood there, leaning against the wall, his big brown cock hanging limply out of his overalls. He hadn’t lowered them at all. They were unzipped just enough to let his cock hang free.
Sasha played with his limp dick. Perico swayed back and forth to make it slap between his legs. He always did that when he had his cock out because he liked to remind his friends who had the biggest one around. It was normal for him and his friends to drink beer in the backyard behind his house, and when he had to piss, Perico just stood up and whipped it out. It was macho to be unconcerned with letting males see it, since Perico could hold his own if a male tried anything, and, of course, he wanted them all to see how big it was. His friends’ machismo required them to do the same thing, of course.
“You gonna jerk it, esé?” Perico laughed. He was cocky, moreso than normal — being naked around men always did that to him. He always felt threatened and overcompensated at first, but once he started getting his dick jerked, it was like slipping into an old sock that fit right. Getting jerked off by a man was better than a woman, Perico often thought but never said out loud. He thwacked his cock against his palm, trying to make a loud sound, a meaty thwacking that caused a sly smile to appear on Sasha’s face.
He drank from the beer. It felt good to drink beer while you got a nut off, he thought. He’d been drinking all day, but he didn’t tell this gringo that.
“Don’t tease me, esé, get it wet,” Perico said. Sasha was on his knees now, and Perico felt a surge of victory like he had conquered Sasha — it felt good to have a rich man jerking his dick. Perico hooted and lightly slapped Sasha, first with his palm, then with his dick. He watched Sasha’s eyes light up as he begged for more. Perico slapped him harder. He rubbed his limp, sweaty cock over Sasha’s face. When Sasha tried to chase it, Perico pulled it away, teasing him.
“Please?! Lemme taste it…” Sasha begged as femininely as he could manage. He blushed as Perico hit him in the forehead, eyes, nose, even his ears — Perico’s girlfriends never let him do that.
Finally, Perico leaned against the wall again and closed his eyes. He lifted his sweat-stained tee shirt over his head so it wouldn’t get in the way, but he didn’t take it off, he just put it behind his neck.
“Go on, make it wet,” he said with an annoyed grunt as though he hadn’t been the one teasing Sasha.
His dick twitched even before Sasha slipped lips over it. Then as soon as it popped into his mouth and hit his moist tongue, Perico moaned and grunted. His dick firmed up in Sasha’s mouth in seconds.
Perico would never admit this, but he preferred getting jerked off by males. Females were smaller, so had smaller mouths and throats, which was annoying enough, but even worse, they saw a blowjob as a preamble to real sex. They just wanted to suck long enough that they could say they’d done it and move on to pussy-sex. As far as Perico was concerned, it made more sense to just move right to pussy-sex and skip the blowjob — as a rule, he did not eat pussy himself, so that was not an option, he saw that as a blow to his machismo.
He had only ever licked one girl’s pussy. That memory filled his mind now, with both arousal and shame. She had been a beautiful blonde college girl, slumming it with the painter her father had hired. She pushed his head down to her pussy as though she expected him to lick there, and he was so excited that he had done it. That was his first and only time performing oral sex on a woman. He had enjoyed it but also felt humiliated, because she rode his face and used him like a dildo. Maybe that would have been okay if she would be his girlfriend, but she never talked to him again. She had just spent that day rubbing his face in it like a disobedient dog, humping that mustache until it gleamed with moisture.
“Chúpalo todo el camino,” Perico murmured, drilling his dick into Sasha’s throat.
His dick was rock-hard now. Salty precum flowed down his shaft, and it coated Sasha’s tongue. It tasted spicy and warm and it made Sasha want to guzzle down more. As usually happened in these situations, Sasha was so impassioned in the moment that he wanted to spend his life doing exactly this.
He looked up to make eye contact with Perico as he nuzzled his nose deep in Perico’s pubic hair, but Perico had his arms over his chest and his face aimed away, as though he wasn’t experiencing a mind-numbing wave of pleasure that wracked his work-weary body.
Perico was uncut, so when he was hard, his shaft seemed to have lots of extra skin. Sasha loved that. He played with it, stroking Perico’s shaft with one hand. He kept looking up, trying to make eye contact, no longer deep-throating. He teased Perico by daintily licking the vein that ran all the way up and down his dick, but Perico just grunted and shifted his weight the best he could with those overalls still around his ankles.
“C’mon, esé, swallow it, don’t play wit’chit,” Perico murmured. He repeated that a few times, “don’t play wit’chit, don’t play wit’chit, you just playin’ wit’chit it now, esé.” He kept humping, pumping his hips even when Sasha just had a hand on his shaft, so he was humping Sasha’s hand instead of ramming down his throat.
But Sasha liked teasing, and he loved making machos desperately horny, so turned on they couldn’t even control where their cock went. He slurped Perico’s cock and slathered spit up and down the shaft with his tongue. He let the cocktip leak precum into his mouth as he stroked that meaty shaft.
“Shit, c’mon, señor…” He jabbed his dick into Sasha’s face, but still Perico didn’t look directly at him.
That’s because Perico was an activo, and Sasha was a pasivo, or at least in a pasivo’s role. That meant Perico would be on top. His goal as an activo was to stick his dick in Sasha’s moist mouth or tight asshole, he didn’t care. If he did that — which he often did — then he was more of a man: he was an activo. If Sasha were Latino, he’d be called a pasivo. Perico pounded on his chest. He had been raised to believe in the distinction between activo and pasivo. It was very important to his father, and his uncle, and all the older males back in Puerto Rico.
The first time Perico had done it, he had been barely eighteen. He was skinny then, and he had just gotten his first tattoo. His father and uncle had brought him a puto as a belated birthday present — he was just a man in a dress and a wig that kept falling off.
But Perico’s father referred to the man was her.
“Put your dick in her, it will make you a man,” his father had said. The prostitute waited in an alley on his knees. Perico had gone back there, heart pounding. He thought he might just do it enough to get his dick wet, to say he had done it.
The man started swallowing with such force Perico yelped, like he was about to slurp his cock off. “Oh, papa, he is… Oh… I do not think I can do it-“
“Of course you can, you are a real hombre! I know it” His father yelled out from around the corner. “Just do it, your dick will know what to do.”
By then it was too late anyway. That man had swallowed him down better than any female ever did. Perico stood there like a wuss as the man swallowed his cock and sucked out every drop of his nut, all in a matter of a minute or two.
“You took no time, boy! You must take control of it-“
“Wreck his throat, you should make him gag and sputter-“
“Yes, men should struggle to swallow dick, it should not be easy, you made it too easy on him-“
Perico had not taken the criticism well back then. He got defensive and punched his father, leading to a fight that Perico was sure to lose because he was young, small and still had his pants around his ankles.
But he had taken the lesson well, in the long run. He needed to take control of men when they jerked him off. He needed to ram their throat like a pussy.
“Jerk on my huevos, gringo.” His eyes narrowed to slits. The longer he spent with his dick hard and getting jerked off, the more he imitated his father’s brutally aggressive treatment of his pasivos. Sucking on balls, his father had said, was humiliating, something only a true macho could make anyone do. So Perico had to suppress his grin at the sight of Sasha hurrying to obey and suck the sweat off his balls.
Sasha pulled Perico’s heavy ballsac out of his painter’s overalls, which were around his ankles now. There must have been a few drops of undried paint somewhere on those workpants, because the astringent scent of paint hit Sasha’s nostrils. It didn’t slow him down, he still swallowed both of Perico’s balls.
Perico groaned. He puffed up his chest and held Sasha in place as he lifted his balls up and plopped them in his mouth over and over. “They are sour, si, esé, you are good pasivo, suck on them…” He couldn’t believe Sasha actually got deep under his balls, licking all of the funky sweat off his sac, and he even got between Perico’s legs to the dense and kinky black hairs of his taint.
This was good, Perico thought, he kind of wished his friends were in the other room, because they would have spied and laughed and teased him for it, but that was a teasing Perico could accept. They’d say he had over-full huevos, that his cock was so macho he couldn’t resist getting it wet and it must have tasted so good it made the puto jerk his nasty hairy balls.
“Will you ram me in the ass?” Sasha asked, licking his lips to get all that uncut Puerto Rican cock flavor.
He already knew the answer — it was obvious that Perico was preening his machismo: he flexed his muscles even though his eyes were closed and no one else was around. Perico hesitated and bit his lip. He could do anal with a pasivo, he had done it before.
The first time he had done anal with a male was in prison, back in Puerto Rico. A punk there who begged Perico for it for months. Perico only gave in a few days before his release, when a guard said the man had been tested for disease — that was the thin thread of justification Perico needed.
He had thought he would never do it. His father and uncle had said it was fine — again, as long as he was no pasivo, it was fine — Perico had always been reluctant simply because it wasn’t necessary. He could prove his machismo simply by plowing his cock down a man’s throat. No need to do anal.
But that man in prison had been youthful and female-like, slutty, feminine, flirtatious, coy, always showing his big brown ass and begging Perico to ram him in it. Finally Perico had given in, and he was surprised at how good it felt.
It didn’t just feel good because he was in prison and it had been months since he’d felt a tight hole around his cock; it wasn’t just because it made Perico feel like uno hombre macho. It just plain felt good to ramrod a man who didn’t care how hard you plowed or if you accidentally banged his head into the wall or the side of the prison cell toilet, or if you belched during sex or if your balls were sweaty and smelled bad. He had rammed his bottom every which way, for hours, cumming five or six times before he was spent.
That was the memory that flooded Perico’s mind when Sasha turned around and bared his ass. “Please, papi, I need your cock inside me… Ruin my ass, please?! I want it so bad…”
Perico couldn’t resist that, it was rather like what the man had said in prison in Puerto Rico. He couldn’t stop thinking about that. All of a sudden, all of his reluctance was gone.
He let out a growl. He’d later on brag that he had said no and Sasha wouldn’t stop begging so pitifully that Perico had agreed even though he already had a girl who’d asked him to come fuck her that evening.
“Bend over, puto,” Perico said. He groaned, his dick aching, huevos begging for release. “I will ram your ass hard now. You can beg me to go easy, but… do not beg me to go easy. Spread those cheeks. You will love it, yes? You will say you love it?”
“Yes! Si! Yes! Fuck me!” Sasha cried out. He bent over the stool Perico used to reach the upper part of the walls. It was splattered with paint, some of it still wet, which left a seafoam stain on Sasha’s clothes.
He bared his big white ass and showed off his tight hole. Perico let out another growl of desire, this one less forced. He felt that familiar surge of uncontrollable desire just like when that man had seduced him in prison. Perico slipped his dick in, gasping and biting his lip at how easy it went in, just the tip at first.
“Yes, you will say you love it-?”
“I love it!”
“Say my name.”
“Perico!”
Perico grinned. He loved it when women called out his name. He liked the idea of anyone walking by hearing and knowing what he had done.
Sasha called it out again. “Perico!” Sasha’s voice broke. “¡Amo la polla de Perico!” Every time Sasha called out his name, he felt Perico’s dick twitch again in his ass as they both came closer to orgasm.
He gripped Sasha’s hair and held on tight, drilling his dick all the way in. Part of that machismo Perico felt was that he had to make it good for Sasha — Perico felt obligated to ram him hard but to also bring him to orgasm; making sweet love would not be as manly, nor would rutting in his ass like a dog.
Perico had to really grind his dick in, hitting Sasha’s prostate and making him let out a long, low moan. That was how Perico knew he was doing this right. All he had to do was touch the right spot with his cock and Sasha cried out with an intense prostate orgasm. Girls, on the other hand, required a whole series of action and romance, lots of kissing, so much time-wasting, Perico thought, and if anything went wrong or just unusual at any point, she’d back out. Not Sasha. Sasha would take anything.
So Perico pounded into him, with all his might, with more power with each thrust of his hips as he grew to realize that Sasha wouldn’t make him slow down no matter what. He grunted and moaned as though he didn’t care that Sasha was turned on too. He rammed his dick in and out.
Then he wrapped one muscular, paint-splattered arm around Sasha’s neck. He didn’t actually choke him, he just wanted Sasha to know he could. He wanted to feel a clenching burst of fear in him. His biceps flexed, squeezing Sasha’s neck as Perico slammed his dick in once more.
Perico grunted into Sasha’s ear. He moved his hips in little circles on Sasha’s ass, ramming at every corner of his insides.
Hot breath condensed on Sasha’s cheek. Perico’s breath smelled of the fried chicken he had eaten for lunch (which Sasha had bought him, thinking it was for Cergio), and his hairy chest undulated against Sasha’s smooth back. The chokehold was just tight enough that Sasha needed to concentrate to breath, but he didn’t mind that, both because the tension made his orgasm more intense and because it meant he was ensconced in Perico’s work-toned arms.
“Oh god, yes, fill me, Perico!” Sasha forgot all his Spanish, so he yelled in English. A potent prostate orgasm exploded within him, as Perico’s cock twitched and spasmed in his ass. Pleasure shuddered up his spine.
That sight was enough to take Perico to the next level too — he loved seeing a man cum with his cock in his ass, because to Perico, that seemed magical. His manhood had brought so much pain to this weaker man that he had orgasmed from it — that was how Perico saw his pasivos — and that made Perico roar with pride. Just the sight of Sasha twitching, ass clenching as he sprayed cum onto the floor was enough to send Perico into his climax.
Sasha sprayed his wad all over the floor and that stool he had been bent over, just as Perico let out his own crooning howl. The sound of Perico’s orgasm echoed and resonated in Sasha’s ear, making him squirm and beg incomprehensibly.
I need to go to Puerto Rico for certain, Sasha thought as the most powerful orgasm he’d had in years hit him like the donkey-like cock rampaging through his ass.
Cum filled Sasha’s body, great gobs of it seeping into him, trickling into his flesh. It was warm and creamy and copious, and it dripped through his body, some of it slipping out and coating his ass.
“Shit, esé…” Perico said with a hoarse snicker. He kissed Sasha on the cheek, just once, chastely — he’d never done that, but his orgasm had been so intense he felt he needed to show it. He acted on pure instinct and even very nearly kissed Sasha on the lips.
Then he kissed Sasha on the neck, and his hands roamed over his tiny twink body. Perico had no idea he was doing it or why, he just felt compelled to slather Sasha in kisses. Sasha was just as surprised as Perico, and he didn’t react.
It only lasted a moment. “Esé…” Perico said, moaning into Sasha’s ear, as his hand touched Sasha’s cock.
As if a switch had been flicked, Perico let go. That was turning too romantic. He dropped Sasha, who flopped onto the ground where he had just shot his load. Perico stood up.
He pulled his overalls up and tried to look nonchalant, as though he kissed his bottoms all the time. He blushed, ignoring Sasha’s shocked stare.
“You best pay up, esé, or I’ll kick your ass,” Perico said. He paused. “I will do painting too, as I did promise I say would do.” He shook his limp dick between his fingers and took a deep breath. He closed his eyes, trying to switch back to his polite-worker mode. “Si, señor? I will do a good job.”
“I’ll pay.” Sasha patted him on the belly. “I’ll pay, don’t worry. Thanks, Perico. You’re a great worker.”
Perico paused and bit his lip. He tucked his cock away in his overalls again, and he put that tattered, dingy tee shirt back on. He looked serious. “Señor, maybe you will hire me more again in the future?”
“Si, Perico,” Sasha said with a satisfied smile. “That is very likely.”