profanity – Mansploitation

The Englishman

Rob is in merry old England in search of yet another masculine alpha! This time he nabs a lord, John Thomas, in desperate need of both sexual release and cash. Rob is eager to help out on both fronts, innit, mate!

Read the whole thing here!

Read the whole thing here!

The fog was oppressive in London when Rob Winthrop’s plane refused to land there due to the decreased visibility. It was only the first of many disappointments, but Rob kept a stiff upper lip. The plane eventually landed because the fog gave way to a gentle, enveloping rain.
It was not that cold, but there was a chill in the air, so Rob took a jumper out of his suitcase once he got it from the baggage-claim area. Then he made his way through the teeming throngs of people at Heathrow Airport.
He didn’t really like the “travel” part of travelling. He liked seeing exotic destinations or even just ordinary destinations in extraordinary places. But he didn’t like planes or airports or trains or long car rides or trams or barges or anything of that sort. Of course, they were the only way to get to his destinations, so he made do.
When he got out of the airport, the first thing he saw was a pair of men fighting in the upper level of the multi-storey. One of them shouted “Oi! Oi!” so loud, over and over, that Rob couldn’t hear anything else and never found out what the argy-bargy was about (but he had a feeling, based on the football kit they both wore, that it related to sport).
Rob had every intention of satisfying his secondary goal as well: servicing the most arousing alpha males he could find, whatever the cost.
Usually, he would just wing it. He had a knack for finding the right kind of guy anyway, and looking for them gave him plenty of time to see the countryside.
But a friend had given him a lead on an Englishman of incomparable studliness. His name was John Thomas, or, to be more precise, John Thomas Smith Walker Mayne, Duke of Malperham-upon-Avon and Baron Alewar of the Wildest Moors.
He didn’t tell very many people he was anything more than John Thomas. But most everyone in his life knew he was a duke anyway, English people had a way of knowing that even when nobody told them. Whilst that was interesting enough — Rob was still trying to find out what a “Baron Alewar” was — it wasn’t what Rob wanted in him anyway.
He was so handsome it hurt. John was tall and broad-shouldered, with dark blond hair that was always slicked back. He was an Oxford Uni student and played cricket well enough that he got tons of Google hits (Rob found cricket impenetrable and was unable to understand anything about what position John played, what it meant or how good he was, but there were articles in major papers about him, so John assumed he must have been good). John was well-muscled but not bulky, and he had a handsome squarish jaw like a knight of the round table, with dimples Rob wanted to bathe in.
He had to have him, and luckily, Rob thought he had an in. Despite being a duke and a baron, John was middle-class at best (in terms of money), despite reading The Times everyday and pretending to follow it. He was in need of money.
But Rob wasn’t sure how to approach him. Englishmen, especially well-heeled Englishmen like John, didn’t talk about sensitive topics like money. So he started off by simply wandering around Oxford Uni. He looked in on a few classes, but the students all looked serious, grim-eyed and focused on sitting for exams. The few people Rob talked to scurried away like he had frightened them.
“Well, shit,” Rob said to no one in particular. He had thought John would be easy to find. On North American college campuses, handsome jocks were always the center of attention and could usually be found on the quad during the day. Oxford Uni had very small, enclosed quads, and the ground was soggy because of the damp that hung in the air, so no one spent time in the quad here. Rob was disappointed.
John was nowhere to be seen. That’s because he was having his elevenses with his manservant Jeeves. He happened to see Rob from a window as he finished his meal and bade Jeeves meet him back in his flat, but John thought nothing of him.
That was why, when he came out onto the quad and saw Rob again, John nodded to him as though they were acquainted. Rob took it as a sign that this was the Englishman for him. He was even handsomer in person than Rob had expected.
“Excuse me, sir, er… Duke… Your Grace…?” Rob blushed.
John cocked his head to the side. “Not many people use my title, old chum, who are you that you know me and I do not know you? And you are American to boot? I have never met an American who uses my title, the idea is quite droll indeed.” A snooty laugh escaped from his thin lips, and the muscles of his broad shoulders flexed.
“My name is Rob.”
“Oh, what a fine fellow! I do greatly enjoy North America. My family owns a hunting lodge in Ontario, and I daresay, aside from les Québécois, it’s marvelous!” He laughed and clapped his hands — his French accent was self-consciously bad: lezz kebekwazz — then looked side to side like he thought he had been too loud. “What can I do for you, my fine yankee friend?”
“I, uh, I’m doing interviews for a North American cricket magazine,” Rob said. “It’s new, it’ll be in the first issue. I wanted to ask you some questions about the sport.”
“Ah, yes, well I am very busy indeed, I am not sure I could fit that in my diary,” he said. He beamed like he didn’t often get recognized for his skill. “I do so love the world of periodicals though, and I wish you the best of luck-“
“I can pay. Two hundred pounds.”
He paused, checking all around the quad for anyone he knew. “Yes, well, the money, of course, is not important. But I do wish to spread the world’s most civilized sport. I have always believed cricket teaches its players the best in comportment and decorum. It is truly a sport for gentlemen,” he said with a grin. Then he blurted out, “-and ladies! I did not forget ladies. Oxford has a marvelous women’s cricket team. Positively smashing.”
“Oh… Uh, well,” Rob stumbled over his words. John’s imposing size and charming grin made it hard to focus. “So will you do the interview? For two hundred pounds?”
“I’ll do it for the sport, not for the money. I’ll do it to exalt the glory of cricket itself,” John said, beaming to show off his dimples. “And I shall take the money, yes, of course, I do not wish to cause a scene.”
“You don’t have to accept the money,” Rob said with a grin.
“Of course, of course, but I do not wish to rock the boat. If you are paying two hundred pounds, you should pay two hundred pounds. It’s not a problem,” he said with a casual chuckle. He paused. “I do have a prior commitment in a few minutes. Can we schedule it for later today? I have to get ready for my morris side’s rehearsal, I must change my clothes.”
“Oh, can I come with you?”
“Eh… I suppose,” he said. He led Rob back to his flat just a few blocks from uni. His manservant Jeeves was waiting for him there — having cleaned up after John’s elevenses, Jeeves hurried back to the flat to be ready to prepare John for the morris dancing rehearsals. “You can away, Jeeves, I shall dress myself.”
“Very good, sir,” Jeeves said, with a heavy tone and a deliberate look like he didn’t entirely believe that John was capable of dressing himself.
Rob pretended to care about cricket then and asked a few questions. He even jotted down John’s answers. John stood in the center of his flat at first. He didn’t expect Rob to wait here whilst John changed.
But John was unsure of expectations. Jeeves, of course, would be here when John removed his garments, but did Rob expect the same? He made no effort to walk away. Americans, John thought, always changed clothing in locker rooms (judging from the cinema, since John had never been to America in person). So John assumed that meant Rob intended to stay here and ask questions whilst John changed.
It was not a big deal, John told himself. It was how the lower classes operated. They often dressed in groups — without a single butler or valet even — such as before working in a mine. John wondered if Rob was a mineworker. John removed his shoes.
“There is a new North American cricket league,” Rob explained. “It’s not that popular. I’m hoping this magazine will increase its audience.”
“Oh how wonderful!” John kept a smile on his face as he removed his shirt and trousers.
“That’s why I wanted an interview with you, you’re charming and handsome, and you’ll bring in women, I hope, but I guess you’re used to that,” Rob said with a flirtatious smile aimed directly into John’s eyes. John blushed in response. He wasn’t used to people giving him compliments like that, so directly and bluntly, especially regarding women.
Rob was entranced by his broad chest, which was smooth and unblemished, a pale porcelain like fine ivory. John smelled of fine soap, not ordinary soap, but something soap-like, smelling of flowers and fruit — it didn’t smell like a flower-scented soap, it smelled like actual flowers, like John had bathed in rosewater dappled with blossoms.
“So you do morris dancing?”
“It is an important part of my family’s heritage,” John said. He sighed and rolled his eyes as he said it. “And I would be disappointing them to abstain from participating in it, so you see, there was never any doubt that I would do it. My entire family has done so for generations, so I never even considered skipping it.” He looked at the notes Rob was taking. “Is that going to be in the magazine? I am not certain it would be necessary. Do North American cricket fans care about such esoteric matters of English culture? I should think not.”
Rob just shrugged. “I gotta take notes on everything. My editor will decide what’s important enough to include in the article.”
“Indeed.”
The morris-dancing costume was simple, and, Rob was annoyed to see, not especially arousing. It covered everything. John pulled up a pair of white trousers, which were loose-fitting and billowy, and pulled on a white shirt. He looked almost like he was unfamiliar with the costume, which mystified Rob — he had no idea that John had never dressed himself in his morris-dancing clothing, so he was unused to doing so without Jeeves’s assistance.
“That is…” Rob had to suppress a giggle, “an interesting getup.” He watched John check that he had his handkerchiefs — that was part of the traditional morris dance. John’s family, the Dukes of Malperham-upon-Avon, had been running the morris side here at Oxford Uni for centuries, even when there was no one from the family attending school there, the Smiths sent a distant cousin or servant to run the side.
“I understand it is old-fashioned, of course,” John said. “But it is our heritage and our tradition. It supplies the Englishman with his soul, even if it seems strange.”
Rob shrugged. “Yeah, sure, no problem. We all have our strange national traditions. It’s no weirder than a sock hop,” he said. He blushed. “I was kinda hoping that you wouldn’t put those clothes on though…”
“I’m sorry, my fine yankee chum?”
Rob cleared his throat. “Well, I promised you two hundred pounds for an interview, and that would be fine. We could do that, and you could walk out of here with two hundred pounds-“
“Which I would be fine with, indeed, but I do not require it, as we have established. I do not wish to do anything for so gauche a reason as money,” John said. “I will do it for cricket.” He stood proudly as though he was being photographed.
“Quite right, tut-tut,” Rob said with another giggle. John looked dourly upon him — Englishmen, he thought, did not giggle. Rob found his intense glare difficult to endure. “But if you wanted… you could earn something more like five hundred pounds. I realize you don’t need it, of course-“
“All this talk of money makes me ill. It is impolite,” John said. He put his hands on his hips and played with the uncomfortable fabric of his morris-dancing costume. “Belgians speak of money. I am no Belgian.”
“Right, well, for five hundred pounds, all you’d have to do is stand there.”
“You intend to pay me five hundred pounds sterling to stand here?” John paused.
“Well, to stand there and not complain as I do something,” Rob said. He inserted one finger in his mouth and sucked on it. John’s eyes opened wide. Rob deep-throated his finger even more explicitly because it wasn’t clear John was willing to accept the implication. Rob blushed as John chortled and stumbled over his own words.
“I say! I-I-I-I-I-I… I dare say you are a disreputable lout! You would pay… pay the King’s good money for something craven and perverse!” John said. “Correct? Did I misunderstand you? You mean… you wish to fornicate? And you will pay me… a monkey?”
Rob raised his eyebrow. “A monkey…? Nooooo. You can buy a monkey, I guess. I mean, it’s illegal, I’m pretty sure. Probably costs more than five hundred pounds too.”
“A monkey is working-class slang for five hundred pounds,” John said, barely controlling his pride at being able to explain working-class slang to someone. John harrumphed and crossed his arms over his broad chest, cradled by that billowy white morris-dancing shirt.
“So you’ll do it?”
John winced. “Please, sir, have some decorum. Do they not have manners in America? Of course I am not opposed to… activities of a masculine nature. But it is most improper to do so so wantonly, so flippantly!”
“Oh?”
“The polite way to invite a man to explore manhoods together is to say that you would like to promenade amongst the lavender blossoms,” he whispered.
“But I don’t. I have allergies. I just wanted to taste your dick.”
“Don’t be difficult, sir,” John said. “And please, do not assault my ears with such common talk.”
“I didn’t realize you had such sensitive ears,” Rob said. One of his hands slipped under John’s loose-fitting morris-dancing shirt. John twitched but didn’t tell him to stop. Rob thought that accusing him of having “sensitive ears” would make John quit it with the euphemisms, but John just nodded.
“I am a well-bred gentleman, of course I do not wish to hear of such things or speak of money,” John said. “The only acceptable topics of conversation are cricket, the value of a good butler, the weather and gardening. The latter two are only acceptable provided they have been proceeding handsomely.”
“I see,” Rob said. “Why don’t you take your shirt off?”
“I am not in need of money,” John said as he took the morris-dancing shirt off anyway. He kept a stony look fixed on his face as though he was going to say no, even though he had already agreed to Rob’s offer. He would just never say it out loud.
“Do you want me to jack you off?” Rob asked, eyes twinkling because John exploded in harrumphs.
“Absurd! How dare you speak to me like that!”
“You can tell me to leave,” Rob said. “But my plan is to jack you off-“
“Your diction is shamefully crass!”
“-and then stick your dick in my ass until you fill it with cum, and then give you give five hundred pounds. If you see any flaws in that plan — any flaws that don’t relate to euphemisms,” Rob said, “tTen let me know now.”
“Your tongue speaks the crudest of words.” He jutted his hips forward to give Rob easy access to his crotch, even as he looked away and sighed as though scandalized.
John paused and watched Rob’s hand pull down his white trousers, revealing those clean — seemingly brand-new — pair of y-fronts, hugging his arse and his plump cheeks. Rob smiled. He tugged the y-fronts down, and John’s dick flopped out.
“Where do you get your underwear? They’re really hot and they look comfortable,” Rob said.
John frowned. “You can not buy any yourself. My pants are bespoke, made especial for my household by the Cordwainer family of Bristol. They are part of an ancient and storied tradition.” He gave his massive dick a single stroke, and it was half-hard already. “My family does not buy pants that just any American could buy.”
Rob rolled his eyes. He had a feeling he could buy those very same pants if he really wanted to — he was a lot wealthier than he let on — but he didn’t want an argument. He bared John’s massive slab of meat. “You have a giant cock,” Rob said with a giggle.
John scoffed. “You are crass,” he said. He bristled. “You may say that I have a ‘sizable endowment’.” He paused. “That part you may tell people, nothing else.”
“Won’t they wonder how I know?”
John looked at him like he was an idiot. “Of course. But they won’t ask.”
“And the money? You don’t want the money?”
John gulped and blurted out, “I want the money! I mean… I don’t want it, of course, but I should take it.” He paused, watching his manhood firm up in Rob’s hand, as Rob chased it with his tongue. “I do not wish to make you uncomfortable, after all.”
“I would not be uncomfortable keeping the money.” Rob’s voice was muffled by the rod he kept rubbing over his lips and licking with his tongue.
“Indeed, well, I should not wish to cause a problem,” John said. He flopped his dick between his fingers but looked away as Rob kissed it right on the tip. “So you should do as you intended, of course.” He paused. “By which I mean, yes, you should pay me. Not for the sake of payment, just for the sake of… you know… doing it.”
“Right, right,” Rob said. He hefted up John’s cock in his fingers and slowly jacked it down his throat. John’s eyes opened wide.
John had been jacked off before, but he never knew it could feel like this. He closed his eyes and bit back a moan — he thought it would be improper to enjoy this too much, and he didn’t want to give Rob any ideas.
His dick firmed up right away in Rob’s mouth, and throbbed against his tongue. John leaned forward, forcing his dick in deeper until he realized that might be seen as rude — he was no throat-forcing hooligan, after all — and he took a step back.
Soon his cock was veiny, pulsating, leaking precum that coated Rob’s throat and ran down his chin. It was salty and warm and inviting, and it made Rob want more.
“Are you ready?” Rob asked, smacking his lips as he pulled John’s dick out. “Huh?”
“Ready for what, my good man?” John’s face was ruddy, and a few beads of sweat had appeared on his normally perfect forehead.
“Well… I suppose you won’t want me to say out loud what this next thing is,” Rob said. John’s eyes opened wide in both fear and desire, and Rob giggled. “Oh good, I don’t need to say it. You look like the King after a fart.” He dropped his own trousers and turned around to bend over.
“Perhaps you should leave.” John’s voice was grim and flat.
Rob assumed he had misheard. He turned back around. “I’m sorry?”
“I will not… fornicate with the likes of you! You have disrespected the King, and I shall not stand for that!” His dick was still hard, but for John, the King was more important than any amount of blue-balls. He formed a fist, and for the first time, those massive cricket-jock muscles looked intimidating to Rob, who cowered back. John was big enough his punch was going to pack a wallop.
“Sorry, sorry, I was just making a joke-“
“That is not a joke! It is a declaration of war upon the people of England! It is a wounding of an entire nation! Nay, several nations, for the Welsh and the Scottish and the Manxmen-“
“Okay, relax, John, I’m sorry, I apologize.”
“Well, in this country, we treat our King with the utmost respect,” John said. He stretched his shoulders and legs, and have his dick one quick stroke. “I shall forgive you this indiscretion. Whilst you are in Britain, however, I suggest you carry yourself with an appropriate amount of respect.” He paused. “It is not because of the money. No amount of money would make up for such disrespect. I am simply a forgiving type.”
“Oh, okay.” Rob breathed a sigh of relief and turned around. He spread his cheeks. “Have you ever done it in the butt?”
John sighed dramatically. “Please do not speak like that.” He slid his dick between Rob’s asscheeks. “I have… I have not traversed the rocky road, no, not the one lined with lavender fields, nor the one with petunias on the other side.”
Rob furrowed his brow and cocked his head to the side. “So are the petunias vaginas? Or am I a petunia?”
“I shall ignore that. The v-word is so impolite, it is grossly inappropriate.” John gingerly slipped the tip of his dick into Rob’s ass. He bit his lip when a jolt of pleasure shot up his spine, and he kept feeding his manhood deeper into him.
His hands caressed Rob’s ass until he remembered he was touching a man, and he took his hands away. His heart thumped. If his grandma-ma found out about this, he’d be disowned from the family — for a variety of reasons: because the yank was not old money, because he was doing work for pay, because he was spending time with a commoner, because he was disgracing Oxford, where being caught would be shameful for the whole family, because John was alone with a flamboyant American.
But John wasn’t really worried about being caught. It actually made the whole experience more intense for him. He felt victorious getting away with it, like when he and the lads in boarding school had raided the kitchen at night. They’d eat jelly and pudding until dawn and his heart would nearly thump out of his chest as he fled back to his room.
“Oh god, cornhole me, your highness!” Rob said with another giggle that turned into a full-throated guffaw at the look on John’s face.
“I am not royalty,”John said, his eyes opened wide as sweat trickled down his chin. He was on the verge of orgasm, but even then he felt the need to lecture Rob about proper terms of address. “That is not the proper form of address in this context-“
But John stopped talking because Rob was laughing too hard to hear anyway, and it was hard to concentrate with his dick throbbing mightily in Rob’s ass. John blushed.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t really mean that literally…” Rob said. He wrenched his head back and moaned, with John’s cock resting on his prostate. He couldn’t bear it anymore and writhed. He howled so loud Jeeves could hear it (he was out in the corridor, and though he wondered intensely what was happening, he would never inquire about it).
“Yes, well, it is not necessary to speak like that.
“Please do penetrate me further, milord,” Rob said with a gasp and a laugh.
“You do not need to tease me,” John said. He wrinkled his nose but kept plowing his entire cock in with every thrust of his hips. He had no idea he was perfectly lined up to stimulate Rob’s prostate every time he rammed into him.
John was easily upset by teasing, but he kept a stiff upper lip — a skill he had perfected in boarding school. He used all of those cricket-toned muscles to piston his cock deep into Rob’s ass.
Rob shot his wad into his hand, filling up his palm with more creamy fluid than he thought possible. He hadn’t shot such a big load in a long time. But John not only had a big cock and a big body, but he also seemed to think he needed to plow extra hard to prove himself — not like most of the men Rob paid, who usually treated him like a piece of meat. That certainly had its appeal, but for now, Rob enjoyed the feel of John caringly grinding his dick into Rob’s ass.
“I am finishing now,” John said with a moan. He finally showed a little passion on his face and in the timbre of his voice, and his cheeks turned apple-red.
His load filled Rob up with warmth that seeped into his flesh. He shot a big load too, even bigger than Rob’s, great gobs of cream and juice spraying into every corner of Rob’s ass.
Rob cried out wordlessly, his fingers tightening into claws and his toes curling. His whole body tensed up as the most potent orgasm of his life exploded within him.
“Oh goddamn!” Rob shouted, only for John to frown at him as though he shouldn’t express his orgasm verbally. Rob just writhed and nuzzled his face against John’s muscular body.
Then, Rob fell limp, and John too, atop him. They both humped there together for a moment, John’s soft cock still moving and twitching in his ass. That turned John’s cumwad into a big frothy mess that bubbled out and into his crotch, sliding between Rob’s legs.
John leaned back and let his dick flop out. He sighed, his eyes opened wide at the sight of the puddle of cum that coated his crotch. He frowned. “Ah… you are quite the flamboyant little American.” He stood there, looking at his cum-splattered dick as though he had no idea how it got that way.
Rob quickly dressed. “Are you… okay?” Rob asked. John still hadn’t moved.
“Yes. I just need a minute.”
“Okay, well, I’m going,” Rob said. He gave John the money he had promised him, and then headed for the door. John grabbed the five hundred pounds as though he didn’t care about it, but he carefully placed it in the pocket of the trousers he had previously taken off and which now rested on the floor. John stood there, grim-faced and bleary-eyed, dick dangling moistly between his legs, as Rob opened the door.
John cleared his throat. “Can you ask Jeeves to come in? Tell him his lordship needs to be cleaned up.”

The Fat Bouncer

Bart’s visit to an underground poker game ends in exactly the way he was hoping — with him on his knees servicing the fat bouncer! His name is Fatty, he’s huge, he’s mean and he’s got meat to spare! Can Bart satisfy Fatty?!

Read it now as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

“I’m looking for a poker game. The dragon sips tea at dawn,” Bart said.
The liquor store was cheesy and rundown. The Chinese family running the shop glared at Bart. They nodded noncommittally when he said he was here for the poker game.
“No poker game here!” one of them said, gesturing around the shop, which had nothing but liquor, displays of cigarettes and signs advertising the lottery. Empty boxes were stacked in the back.
But they didn’t respond poorly to his question. Bart furrowed his brow. If he had walked into some random liquor store and asked for the underground poker game, he would have expected them to kick him out, to ask what he was talking about, to express confusion and dismay.
But these two men just said “no poker game here”, pointing to the floor right in front of the counter — as though Bart had asked if there was a poker game in that exact spot.
Bart was suspicious. “Is it… Is there a poker game… somewhere?”
The clerk scowled. “Presumably. Go there, wherever it is. Round in the rear of some place, I expect.” He sniffled and glanced over his shoulder.
“Aaaaaah… I see, okay,” Bart said. He bought a lotto ticket just so he wouldn’t look like a dickhead. He tucked it in his pocket as he went out into the parking lot. Nobody was around, so he grabbed an empty box by the door. He broke it down into a flat piece of cardboard, that way he wouldn’t look too suspicious to anyone driving by.
He went around to the back of the liquor store, where he saw a recycling dumpster, in which he put the cardboard. A few yards away sat a fat white man with a huge belly, a backwards baseball cap and a tattoo of Barack Obama’s smiling face extending up his neck. He nodded at Bart.
“Yo, hey, ‘sup.” He nodded. He sat near the back-door to the liquor store as though that was a normal spot to sit in. A minuscule stool was there, that’s what he sat on. It would be too tiny for a normal-sized man, but the fat man with the oversized jaw and the stoned squint upon his roundness was a thousand times too big for the stool he sat upon.
He sat near the door in the manner of a bouncer, Bart thought. He headed right for the door as though he knew what he was doing and where he was going. “Is this the door?”
“That’s a door.” The fat white thug stood. He spat on the ground, needing to lean forward to avoid spitting on his belly. He stood in front of the door. “Whatchoo need, li’l thang?”
Bart had to resist his urge to say what he really wanted — to get plowed into by this magnificent whale of a man — but he figured his best bet was to play it cool for now. “I heard there was a poker game in there. I’m Dan’s friend,” he said. “Dan Lickster”. Then, feeling like a child playing a spy-game, he leaned closer to the big man, clutched his belly and said, “The dragon sips tea at dawn.”
The fat thug nodded. “A’ight. Go’n in, sir,” he said. He opened the door for him. Bart skedaddled past, his hand lingering on the man’s massive belly.
Inside was a dimly lit basement, in the center of which was a round table with nine chairs surroundant. A bar sat in one corner of the room, and in the very middle, near the table, was a door that presumably led to the stairs going up, to the main floor where the liquor store and the surly clerk and the sale on discount gin all were.
A small handful of people milled around the table, while a single waitress brought them drinks from the bar. One person at table was a motionless, emotionless woman in a plain suit. She was the dealer, presumably. The others were players.
This was Bart’s first underground poker game. He had brought four thousand dollars, and he didn’t mind losing all of it. But he transferred two hundred bucks to a different pocket so he could keep it hidden — he might want that later.
He hoped to get in that fat thug’s pants, and he was willing to pay for it. That was the real reason he had finagled an invite to the poker game.
“Bart! Glad you could make it!” Bart’s friend Dan called for him when he came into the room. “Fatty ain’t grill you up and eat you with butter, did he?”
“I tried, but he said no,” Bart said, making the room laugh. He turned and blushed when he saw that fat thug — who apparently went by Fatty — had followed him in. He hadn’t meant to say that in front of him. Fatty blushed even redder than Bart.
Fatty had a deep booming voice. “Man… Shhh-” He cut himself off as he grabbed his dick through his jeans. It sounded like he was about to say shut your fucking face or something along those lines but stopped before he got in trouble. This was an upper-class event. He had been told not to “lower the tone”.
Fatty just waddled away, as the other players laughed at him. Bart felt a little bad for him, but then, he got the feeling Fatty was not exactly a nice guy, so he didn’t feel too bad. Besides, Bart fully intended to make it up to him later.
He was so distracted he didn’t do very well in the poker game. That was fine with Bart, it was fun just to be there. He didn’t need to do a really good job, and he didn’t mind losing the money. It was only his fifth time ever playing poker in his life, and he would have done a lot better but he forgot which hands outrank each other and bet wrong.
When the game was over, Bart hung around as the other guys said their goodbyes. He helped the dealer clean up, and then headed out into the back by the dumpsters. There was Fatty, sitting there, playing on his phone and smoking a Black’n’Mild by himself. He looked up and nodded, disinterested.
“How you doin’?” Bart asked.
Fatty frowned. “What?”
“My name is Bart.”
“Fatty.”
“Nice to meet you, Fatty,” Bart said. “So, I-“
“Look, I ain’t gonna reimburse ya losings, man,” he said. He sneered like he was being forced to be here and resented it.
“That’s fine. I was looking to give you some money,” Bart said. He affectionately patted Fatty on the shoulder. That made his arm flesh jiggle.
“What?”
“I’ve got two hundred dollars in my pocket,” Bart said. “I held it back so I wouldn’t lose it. I wanted to spend it on you.”
“What?” He stood up like he thought he was going to get in a fight. He eyed Bart suspiciously. His thick belly was right in front of Bart’s face. Bart poked it with one finger, searching for his bellybutton through the football jersey Fatty wore. Fatty frowned. “You wanna gimme money?”
“I want to pay you money for services to be rendered,” Bart said. He smiled.
Fatty furrowed his brow and said the only thing he could think of. “What?”
Bart giggled. “I want you to stick it in me, Fatty.”
“What?”
“Your dick. In here.” Bart pointed to his mouth. “Maybe elsewhere too, if you-“
“What?” His chin-fat jiggled.
“Can you stop saying that?”
“Look, man…” Fatty tottered back and forth on his squat legs. He looked around. No one was here. Everyone else had gone. Even the liquor store was closed now.
“Two hundred dollars. That’s a lotta money-“
“Ain’t nothin’ stopping me from just takin’ it,” Fatty said. He reached into Bart’s pockets. He frowned. There was no money there. Bart had hidden it in his sock.
“Yeah, but then you wouldn’t get to blow your nut-“
“I ain’t… you know… I was in prison, but I ain’t a booty bandit, dawg.”
“I know, dawg,” Bart said. “C’mon-“
“I don’t see no two hundred dollars. You foolin’. You straight-up foolin’.”
“If I take it out, you’ll steal it and you won’t stick me,” Bart said. “Come on… I’ll let you do it however you want. You can plow down on my face, you can ram into my ass as hard as you want.”
“Shit… If you don’t pay me, motherfucker… I hunt down bitches and get payment outta ‘em as a career, so don’t try it, man. I swear to Christ, I’ll steal ya mama’s heart pills if I got to. I get what I is owed,” Fatty said.
“I promise. I’ll pay.”
Fatty frowned. He leaned against the dumpster, looked away and nodded. “Go’n then.”
He apparently wasn’t going to be any more involved in this than he absolutely had to be, Bart thought, but that was okay with him. He undid the belt around Fatty’s jeans and let them flop to the ground. Then he pulled that ratty old jersey off his head. Fatty fought against it at first — he rarely took his shirt off even when plowing because he knew girls wouldn’t want to look at his manboobs — but then he let Bart do it. He was much too tall for Bart to actually lift the jersey himself, so he just got started and tried to climb Fatty’s belly. That too was plainly unrealistic, but he enjoyed the challenge and the feel of it, and he liked the way Fatty’s belly and indeed his whole body shook as Bart scaled him like a sturdy mountain.
And Fatty made a funny face, which Bart found amusing. He tolerated it at first, but then he grew annoyed and took the jersey off himself. The motion of it made his upper body flex and ripple, and it bared the furry bush of his armpits for a moment.
Then he stood there, belly protruding, as Bart licked it clean. He was hairy and heavyset by nature but fat by habit, his belly a stack of rolls and jiggles. He smelled intensely of foot sweat from head to toe, and Bart inhaled the scent while his hands and his nose explored all the crevices between his folds.
He tugged down his boxer sorts, at last baring his magnificent cock. Bart’s tongue works it way down to his belly fat, down to the underside of it, where the treasure trail of body hair grew thicker and coarser and the sweat grew funkier.
A gasp escaped from Fatty’s lips, followed by a suck on his teeth. Bart’s delicate hands reached under his belly to his cock and gave it a stroke. Fatty groaned again. He couldn’t decide if it felt good or not. He didn’t mind getting jerked off, but it was hard to focus with Bart’s tiny tongue snaking all over his folds of fat.
By chance Bart glanced up, and the intense look on Fatty’s face, a penetrating stare like he had spied something greatly displeased him, made Bart chortle. When that only magnified the look on Fatty’s mien, Bart’s chortle choked into a chuckle, and he turned that into a cough. He quaked before Fatty’s bigness.
“You makin’ fun of me?” Fatty asked. Bart shook his head. “You gettin’d dared by ya buddies? Is it like… a scavenger hunt?”
Bart shook his head again and again. He sucked on Fatty’s fleshy manboobs, playing with his nipples and stroking his dick to full erection. “I like big boys. I like men, and I appreciate the bigness of… well, big ones. That’s all. I think you’re a magnificent specimen.” He licked a trail down Fatty’s belly, which had more tattoos on it — gang tats, it appeared. He slurped the sweat that clung to each tattoo. There was Gothic lettering that read MONTANA over his belly, and an American flag over his heart. A gun was tattooed on the side of his belly, pointed down towards his cock.
“Man…” Fatty grunted. He still felt maybe he was being made fun of. Maybe there was a hidden-camera? Was this some sort of Making-Fun-of-Fat-Men reality show? Surely that would be illegal, he thought. He didn’t want to look self-conscious, so he didn’t stop Bart, but he kept looking around for hidden cameras.
Then he grunted and threw his head back so fast it slammed painfully against the dumpster behind him. His whole body jiggled. Bart clutched those big round asscheeks as he plowed down on Fatty’s cock. It was limp and not especially big at first, like a lot of fat guys, but it quickly firmed up and turned into a nearly foot-long monster, all knobbly and veiny. Bart gurgled on it merrily. He looked up and tried to make eye contact with Fatty, but he looked everywhere except down.
That felt better than expected. He didn’t get sucked off a lot these days. Most women wouldn’t give him the time of day, and he had sort of forgotten how hot and moist and inviting it was to feel a throat swallow his meat down to the root. It sent a shiver of bliss up his spine, and Fatty’s whole body shook, or really his spine shimmied and the shimmy was magnified by his layers of fat until his whole body wobbled like underset jello.
His dick was moist to begin with, soaked with sweat from his underbelly and from being cooped up on a humid night in his jeans. Bart sucked all the sweat down, slurping it, gurgling and giggling as he moaned — he loved how it made Fatty’s whole body shake and jiggle.
Fatty snorted and huffed like a surprised donkey. His eyes alternating between wide open and excited and the dull-eyed stoner squint he had throughout the poker game, though he’d been standing there throughout, he clearly hadn’t been smoking any weed, so Bart didn’t get how he could look stoned. Maybe that was just the way he looked, or maybe he smoked so much weed it stayed with him.
He tried to reach up to play with Fatty’s manboobs, but Fatty began plowing into his face, and it was difficult to control his hands. Bart flailed, going back to holding onto those enormous asscheeks for support. Fatty’s balls slapped against his chin, and Fatty had to hold his belly up to give Bart easy access to it.
“Hmmmm….” Bart murmured as he gagged on the hard dick jamming into his throat. He had to signal to Fatty a couple times before he pulled away, slapping his fat dick over Bart’s face. When Fatty let go of his belly, it flopped onto Bart’s head, nearly knocking him over. “You taste so good…”
“You serious?”
“I’m deadly serious. I wanna lick your ass. Can I lick your ass? I wanna taste it!” Bart giggled, blushing at the shocked look on Fatty’s face — who hadn’t looked at him since this started, not until now. He checked out Bart as though to see if he was joking.
But Fatty smirked and turned around. He’d never gotten a rimjob. He never even thought it was an option — who would want to lick his fat ass? Not a girl, he knew that.
He gripped the side of the dumpster like he was being searched by a cop. He spread his legs wide, frowning a little when he felt Bart’s delicate tongue plant on his left asscheek. It was cold, not particularly arousing and a little ticklish. Fatty just grunted. He spread his asscheeks, and they parted like a massive yellow cock being splattered in slow motion.
Bart licked up and down that enormous left cheek, which rippled flabbily as he massaged it with both hands. Bart could have fit his entire body in Fatty’s asscheeks, he thought with an aroused giggle. The smell was so potent it made Bart let out a moan of desire.
He had to use both hands to spread Fatty’s cheeks and bare his crack. The smell of sour sweat was intense here. There was plenty of funky hair lining the crack and around his tight hole. Bart didn’t need to ask if it was a virginal asshole — it was as tight as could be. He rubbed one finger over it, but then Fatty swore and said, “No fingers! Nah! You said lick! You can lick it!”
“Okay, sorry,” Bart said. It was impossible to finger it anyway — Bart needed to use both hands to keep Fatty’s cheeks separate. It was like trying to pull apart a mass of jello that hadn’t fully set yet. Bart sucked on each bit of flesh that seeped through his fingers as he dove in between those cheeks.
Finally he got his tongue in Fatty’s tight hole, and Fatty let out a howl that sounded overconfident — like he wanted Bart to think he’d done this before and wasn’t impressed. But Bart could tell from the way his asshole clenched around Bart’s tongue that he was turned on, and that he wanted more.
Bart plowed into him with his tongue. Soon he couldn’t hold back the sea on those asscheeks, and he let go, allowing all that flabby hefty to envelop him so Bart’s entire head was buried in his ass.
Fatty glanced behind himself and couldn’t help but guffaw in shock — and a little disgust — at the sight. Bart looked like he had been beheaded by Fatty’s ass, or like his head was actually climbing into his backside. Fatty couldn’t believe how good it felt either. It was a little uncomfortable, but Bart’s tongue invaded his ass and went right for his juicy prostate, slurping up all the sweat and assfluids that seeped out of him and onto his tongue.
The taste was sour and salty, like cum but solid and fleshy. Bart slurped noisily. He reached between Fatty’s legs to try to jack him off, but that proved impossible — Fatty was just too wide and too thick. Instead his hands roamed over the bigness, the endless folds of Fatty’s mountainous asscheeks.
Finally Bart pulled out and raced to bend over. He was dizzy from lack of oxygen. He got his face down on the asphalt, his ass as high as he could manage. Fatty’s corpulent body kept undulating as he rubbed his ass over the spot where Bart’s face had been moments ago.
Fatty turned around to see why the rimjob had stopped. He saw Bart bent over and grimaced. Bart’s ass was smooth and tight, round as could be, pretty much the exact opposite of Bart’s ass.
He’d never plowed into a girl with a nice tight ass like that. He’d plowed into some big females, some of them very sexy, and he’d gotten in a few asses. But none of them had a plump bubble-butt like Bart.
Fatty kept a sour grimace on his face because he didn’t want Bart to think he really enjoyed this — it would make it seem like Fatty couldn’t land a real woman. He spread Bart’s cheeks with his greasy fingers, and slid his cock in. He again had to lift his belly up to keep it out of the way.
His belly then flopped onto Bart’s ass, while Bart backed up onto Fatty’s cock. There was a burst of pressure and pain, which Bart accepted with a grimace. There was always this difficulty in getting plowed into by fat guys, whose bellies weighed Bart down and added power to their penetrations.
Fatty was oblivious though. He just gripped Bart’s cheeks, plowing into him on autopilot, his cock ramming into Bart’s ass as hard as he could. He’d never been able to fuck a girl like this, so lots of pent-up horniness came out at once. He moaned loud and slammed into Bart’s ass. He was surprised at how easy it was, his cock just slid right in and instantly his whole body quaked as a jolt of pleasure rocked his corpulent frame.
“Shit!” Bart shouted. “Goddamn, get it deep in me! Big boy, do me hard!” He was rocked back and forth by the power of Fatty’s gyrations, his heavy body grinding him into the asphalt.
Bart found it difficult to remain on all fours with Fatty plowing into him with all his mind. He lowered himself first to his elbows and knees, and then finally, gradually, he was crushed onto the cold asphalt. Fatty laid atop him, scrunching him up underneath that hairy belly.
A long, low orgasm erupted in Bart, extended by the fact that he was crushed on the ground, so he was unable to touch his own cock. He could barely even breathe. All he did was flail as the most intense orgasm of his life ran through him.
Hot breath condensed on the back of his neck as Fatty gasped and snorted like a horse. Fatty’s whole body rippled, and he groaned right into Bart’s ears. “Damn, bitch, shit, you fuckin’ slut, don’t move, don’t move, just take it, okay, bitch, damn…” He exhaled breathily on Bart’s head.
At last he was done. He lifted his head — letting Bart breathe a bit — as he poured his cumload into Bart’s ass. Fatty had never felt anything like this. He shot the biggest load of his life, wad after wad of creamy, sticky juices flowing into Bart’s asshole.
Bart accepted every drop and would have begged for more if he could recover his breath. He soon rolled over, and Fatty went with him, wrapping Bart up in his arms so he could keep plowing in. Bart squirmed and writhed in his grasp.
As soon as Bart touched his own cock, he finally shot his own wad as well, spraying it over the asphalt and even onto his own face. Bart cried out. “Goddamn, Fatty!”
Fatty chuckled, his own orgasm ending though he didn’t remove his cock yet. He just watched Bart squirm and climax as well, his lithe back tensing up. Fatty let Bart slide right off his slick belly. Every inch of his body riding on Fatty’s dick sent new spasms of ecstasy to course through Bart’s veins. Fatty too found sparks of sensation to arise from his sensitive shaft as Bart dismounted it, and both men let out cavernous moans of relief when Bart finally popped off Fatty’s knob.
Bart sighed, exhausted, red-faced and sweaty — covered in Fatty’s sweat as well as his own. He sprawled out on the asphalt. Jizz dribbled out and flowed down his thighs in tiny rivulets.
After a minute or two of heavy breathing, Bart rested his head on Fatty’s belly. His tongue snaked into his bellybutton. Fatty chuckled. Bart stroked his limp dick with one hand. It was hot and tender, soft as warm butter, and Bart’s squeezing of it made Fatty shudder with the aftershocks of his orgasm.
“Your dick is great,” Bart said. He reached into his sock and pulled out the money. “Here you go.”
Fatty nodded, his eyes glazed over. He yawned. “Shit, man…” He had forgotten he couldn’t find the money, so he didn’t pay attention to where Bart pulled the cash from.
“Is it okay if I lay here on your belly for awhile?”
Fatty nodded again. “Whatever floats your boat, man,” he said. He took the backwards baseball cap off because it got in the way of resting his head on the asphalt. “Shit… You wanna pay me again later? I’ll come see you some more next week.”
“Hmmm… Maybe. I’ll give you my phone number,” Bart said. “But I travel a lot.” He licked the valley between Fatty’s manboobs. Then he kissed Fatty on the neck. Fatty stiffened up — that felt too pervy for him, but he allowed it for a few seconds before gently pushing Bart way.
Then Fatty sat up. “Shit, okay, I’ll call you. Don’t tell no one though. If anyone asks… tell ‘em I sell you meth.” He paused. “Not the police, I mean.”
“Sure, okay,” Bart said with a satisfied sigh. “Whatever you want.”

The Rocker

Avery is at the music store at the mall when he spies a studly hard rock guy in need of some cash. That’s exactly the kind of situation Avery loves helping out with! Can he meet his alpha’s musical needs?

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

The Tune & String music store at the mall was one of the bigger stores remaining. Nearby was Randall’s Candles, a sad little giftshop, and several vacant storefronts. A KT Toys provided a little vibrancy for about six weeks out of the year, but it was a mausoleum most of the time. The Cinnamon Bun Hut was the most popular attraction at the Pickspring Mall for Avery Flowers, but he was trying not to go there.
The smell was damn alluring though. Last time he came here, he was so desperate for cinnamon buns he ended up making them himself. That was his compromise — no buying thirty thousand calories worth of cinnamon buns. If you want to eat that, you can make it yourself.
But his didn’t smell like the ones at the Cinnamon Bun Hut. They were good, but not that good. Avery was not a baker.
He was not a drummer either, yet Avery was here to buy drumsticks, but there was no one at the counter to check him out. His niece was getting a drum-set for Christmas, and Avery was going to give her the sticks, wrapped, under the tree, so she would open them before she saw the actual drums. Since he didn’t have any kids of his own, he looked forward to seeing that on Christmas Day.
But now there was no one in the music store. It was like a museum of music, full of display cases featuring pianos, saxophones and flutes, alongside rows of shelves of sheet music. There were DVDs too, instructional stuff, and a few odds and ends — even rolling papers and small glass pipes behind the counter.
“Hello? I need to buy drumsticks!”
He heard laughter upstairs, on the little balcony where the pianos sat. Avery craned his head up and could just barely see the clerk. It sounded like an argument up there, a rigorous piano dispute, presumably. The thought made Avery chuckle, imagining who would get into a rigorous piano dispute. He waited politely, but no clerk was forthcoming.
He didn’t want to make a scene, but Avery was ready to get out of there. He wasn’t gonna spend all day waiting to buy drumsticks.
So he went up the stairs. Avery had something else he planned on doing today — going to the other side of town, to this trashy nightclub in the ghetto, where a DJ had promised to let Avery jerk him off for money to buy recording gear. But first, he needed to buy these goddamn drumsticks.
And nobody was here! Avery had been daydreaming and didn’t notice he’d been standing at the counter for what felt like an hour. It was maybe ten minutes. Did nobody work here? He looked around the store. There was no bell to ding to get an employee’s attention.
“Hello? I need to buy drumsticks. Hello?” Avery ascended to the second floor of the music shop.
The clerk was a hipster with a goattee, a mustache and a five o’clock shadow. He was handsome though, and he caught Avery’s eye. He was probably a hit with women. His nametag read “Twig Smitten”, which just had to be a performing name.
There was another man there talking to him. He was a hard-edged hard-rock heavy-metal kind of guy, that much was obvious, with a fat mop of greasy black hair and sunken eyes. He was young, or young-ish anyway, but he had the face of a work-hard life on the road, like a handsome hobo in the Old West. He was strong, but his muscles were haphazard, not toned, you could tell he never lifted weights. He simply worked and lived hard and probably drank more beer than ate solid food. He had a powerful, tattooed chest that nearly bulged out of his sleeveless tee shirt (a black shirt with the demonic skull logo of the band Clusterfuck, which Avery suspected was this man’s band).
He was like something out of the 80s too, with that thrash-metal look, but his dirt-colored mustache — and a scruffy beard behind that — was straight out of the 70s. He was well-muscled, with a blue-collar look to his dusky skin and wind-beaten face.
His name was Logan, and he was trying to browbeat the clerk into giving him the employee discount on the guitar. Logan had a deep rumbly voice with a menacing edge to it. “Come on, man, I know you gave Roger the discount. He said it-“
“Man, Logan, it’s not like that. He used to work here. I need to make my commission-“
“Don’t gimme that shit,” Logan said. He took a step back and pointed a finger at the clerk. His face was ruddy, meaty arms flexing, eyes darting back and forth. “I know you’re allowed to do it. Roger said it’s a rule, you gotta make the sale-“
“It’s not a rule! The employee discount is for employees!”
“I know the manager!”
“Mr. Demetrius said to tell you to go fuck yourself if you ever come in here, Logan!” the clerk Twig Smitten said. He pointed to the exit to the mall itself. “So… you know, go fuck yourself. Somewhere that isn’t here.”
“Don’t be a dick, man! I can kick your fucking ass, y’know, you little punk. Come at me then-” Logan took a step towards the clerk. “I need that guitar, I got a damn show tonight! UPS ruint mine! I can’t — it’s not even here, man, come on!”
“I’ll buy it for you,” Avery said. He stepped in front of Logan, who was taken aback. Avery was so close he could smell Logan’s sweat beneath the scent of bleach, which looked to have been speckled on his black boots earlier. Pale spots now spread over the top of Logan’s feet, and some dotted the lower cuffs of his pants too. Logan’s jaw dropped as he tried to gather his wits and shift focus from kicking ass to talking to a stranger.
“What?” he snapped like he was offended by his own confusion.
Avery smiled despite the tension of the situation. He felt much smaller than either of the other two men, though in fact there was little difference between them. Neverthless Logan loomed large over the trio like a moai, and Avery felt tiny before him. Avery patted him on the side, feeling the meaty thickness of his body above his ribcage. That sleeveless shirt he wore reeked of his armpit sweat and his body hair and again of bleach. Avery said, “I’ll buy you the guitar. The whole thing. No employee discount.”
“What?”
Avery smiled. The clerk had backed way off, so Avery lowered his voice, that way only Logan could hear. “I’ll jerk you off. We’ll go in the mall bathroom, and I’ll jerk you off. Okay? I’ll swallow your dick you so good you forget how to play guitar-“
He scoffed. “I…” Logan wiped some of the sweat off his brow. “Shit… uh…”
“I’ll deep-throat you so good…” Avery sucked on his finger. Logan’s eyes opened wide. Avery could sense Logan’s dick twitching, but Logan covered it up by shifting his weight between his feet. He cleared his throat.
“Don’t you want me to like… take a shower or some shit? I just got off work, I got band practice in a bit-
“Don’t you dare shower, I like my men unfiltered,” Avery said. He took Logan by the hand and led him back down the stairs. The gawky clerk was there watching. “We’ll be back to buy that guitar. And drumsticks.”
“Drumsticks? I don’t want drumsticks-“
“Unless you came out of my sister’s vagina, they’re not for you. Let’s go.”
“I ain’t say I’d do it,” Logan said.
“Then you’re on your way out of the store, right?” Avery said. “Either way, this is the route.” He pointed towards the door out of the mall. The bathrooms were by there too.
“Uh…” Logan stopped. “You’ll really buy the whole guitar? You ain’t playin’?”
“I never play about that,” Avery said with a serious look on his face. Then he laughed. “That’s not true, I do play about jacking men off. But I’m not kidding about doing it. I’ll jerk your dick til the cows come home. Or is there a heavy metal equivalent of that? I’ll jerk you off til the heavy metal singer smiles?”
“I ain’t a metal singer. I sing rock. Hard rock. Not metal.” Logan furrowed his brow at Avery. “I don’t cotton to the metal scene. They’s all about the goths. You know about the goths? I don’t do the goths.”
“Hmm… Yeah, I get’cha,” Avery said. “I like rock too, sorry, I didn’t mean anything by that — I’m not really a music aficionado.”
“You not scammin’ me, right? You got the cash?”
“I got it. And I’ll even buy you some extra strings, okay?”
Logan sighed. “Okay, but you can’t tell no one, man. I ain’t… He chuckled. “I never got a man to jerk me off when I was sober before. Usually it’s only when I struck out for the night.”
“No shit, really?”
“Uh-huh. I got this buddy, he does it when I’m drunk,” Logan said. Avery sunk to the floor as Logan closed the door. “He thinks I’s too drunk to know he done it, but I know.”
Avery undid Logan’s fly and belt. His mud-splattered jeans fell to the floor, which was good because that muffled the smell of bleach from his boots. He had had to work his community service first thing in the morning — he had mopped the floors at a ranger station in a state park, hence the bleach on his boots — before going to his regular job as a janitor.
“So what’s your band like?”
Logan’s anxiety disappeared — he was at his most confident when he was performing, so thinking about his band made him relax. “Aw, man, we rock hard as shit, man. You goin’ to the Tough One Fun Run? We gonna play at that. Cluster-F. We Clusterfuck, but they only sayin’ Cluster-F on the radio. We got a followin’, man. I got groupies and shit.” He checked that the door to the bathroom was locked, then reached into his pants around his ankles and fished out a pack of smokes. He seemed completely disinterested in Avery pulling his boxers down. His sleeveless black tee was short, so it wasn’t in the way of his cock, which bounced free and jabbed Avery in the face. Logan said, “We’s like, uh, hard rock, y’know, boogie-rock and shit, man. We all used to play AC/DC songs before we was writin’ our own-“
“Awesome, AC/DC’s great,” Avery said. He really had no special love for AC/DC, but he wanted to get on Logan’s good side.
“Yeah. We rock hard, man, swear to God. You know Black Crowes? I met them once, swear to God,” he said. He saw his dick dangling and bit his lip. This got suddenly more real, just before his cock disappeared into Avery’s mouth. His eyes opened wide. “They was arrogant shits, man, fuck them, fuck!” He groaned. “They owe me money too, like a hundred eighty bucks, man, swear to God. Buncha shitheads, and they talk a bunch of shit, they can’t back it up.” Even as he talked like he hadn’t noticed what his dick was doing, he was already pumping his hips back and forth, treating Avery’s mouth like a pussy. His dick wasn’t hard yet. That was good. Logan thought a man shouldn’t get hard too easy if there’s no woman around. Not even any porno.
Avery’s mouth was soft and warm, and it felt good. Logan sighed. He was usually so relaxed when this happened because he was drunk, and it didn’t feel real. This had felt entirely too real right up until it began. It wasn’t a big deal.
Now that it had begun, Logan felt silly being reluctant and slow to get started.
While Logan had been very drunk the first few times he let his friend jerk him off, he’d lately done it whenever he could. It just got easier the older he became, and nowadays, he’d usually whip it out even if he only had a few beers.
It actually felt even better than his buddy’s mouthjobs. His dick firmed up right away, and it throbbed hotly in Avery’s mouth. Avery was surprised that it happened so quick once it got started — Logan had been a bit slow to get into it, because he was talking about his band. But now that his mouth was shut, his dick rocketed to full erection immediately.
“Goddamn…” Logan’s throaty voice grunted.
He probably sounded good as a singer, Avery thought, nice and bluesy, like a non-hipster Tom Waits. He wanted to ask if Logan sang or just played guitar, but his mouth was full, and Logan’s hands gripped his head, making it hard to speak. Avery didn’t want to stop long enough to ask.
He opened his throat as wide as he could, letting Logan’s filthy cock slide in, even as Avery’s throat clenched and fought back. He sputtered, choking around the blue-collar filth that coated his tongue. It was a bit sour and loamy like soil, with a fresh, sunny flavor that made Avery wonder if he took his dick out on the job — it sure tasted like the outside. You could tell he worked outdoors all day.
“Shit… You do it better than my buddy,” Logan said, his voice a little wavery, almost giddy. He didn’t add — though he thought it — that Avery did it better than any woman either. He didn’t want to admit that.
Avery looked up to make eye contact with him, but Logan wasn’t looking down at him. Logan kept an eye on the door to be sure no one came in and interrupted them. Someone did try the doorknob, but the lock stopped them, and they walked away.
His arms stretched up, his hands creeping under Logan’s raggedy black tee shirt. Logan didn’t seem to notice. Avery’s hands made it to his nipples, and then his whole body twitched. Logan groaned. He lifted his shirt off and tossed it on the toilet. Moments later, it slipped into the toilet bowl. Logan’s eyes were closed, so he hadn’t noticed that yet, and Avery faced the other way, so he didn’t see it either.
Logan had nice pecs that flexed beneath Avery’s touch. He wasn’t muscular like a bodybuilder, you could tell he didn’t work out at all — his glamour muscles were underdeveloped, it was the real, actual muscles that were built up — and his arms, since he spent hours every night practicing guitar.
His right arm in particular bulged. It was as thick as Avery’s head, and as hard as rock when Avery managed to massage it without pulling off Logan’s dick. When he started to taste precum, however, Avery did pull off, just to give him a rest. He didn’t want Logan to cum too quickly.
“C’mon, man…” Logan’s throaty voice was hot and breathless, almost begging. He tried to whisper out of a general desire for discretion, even though nobody could possibly hear, and his voice was too deep anyway to really be quiet. He kept humping his hips even when his cock popped out of Avery’s mouth. He fucked the air while Avery’s mouth and lips traveled up his body.
He had never shaved his chest, so his belly had a fine trail of brownish blond hair. Avery sucked on his skin, traveling up to the much furrier valley in between his meaty pecs. Avery attacked each nipple, sucking on them both while he gripped Logan’s dick with both hands.
“Shit, man…” Logan couldn’t believe how good it felt.
His dick stayed hard, pulsating, leaking precum into Avery’s fingers. Avery’s tongue snaked over his armpit, to that massive guitar-playing right bicep. Avery wasn’t ordinarily a muscle-queen, but Logan’s arm was delightful. Avery sucked all the sweat and dust off it — since Logan had worn a sleeveless shirt today, his skin was dirty and tasted of asphalt. Avery sucked all the grime off, while Logan furrowed his brow in confusion — he wouldn’t have guessed anybody wanted to lick literal dirt off his arm.
“You wanna ram me?” Avery asked. He didn’t wait for an answer. He dropped his pants, turned around and displayed his ass for Logan — he guessed that Logan was the kind of man who might say no right up until he saw Avery’s tight pale hole.
“Shit…” Logan grunted. A part of his mind said he should refuse, or pretend to refuse in order to get more money. But he was too horny to stop.
So he didn’t refuse. He wanted to get deep in that tight asshole. Even as his mind started coming up with a plan to get more money out of Avery, his cock was ramming itself into his ass.
Before Logan knew it, he was already inside Avery, to the root, and Avery had let out a long low howl. No girl ever let Logan plow her like this. Avery kept his ass high and his head low, nearly on the cold linoleum floor of the bathroom.
“Goddamn, man,” Logan said with a loud roar. He pounded on his chest. He roared like Tarzan and flexed his pecs, and he slapped Avery’s asscheeks until the sound rang out and Avery groaned. You could see the pleasure flowing through his body in his muscles rippling, his body hair becoming matted to his skin with a fresh layer of sweat.
“Holy shit…” Avery said with a panting gasp, the sensations flowing through him so intense he had to wrench the words out of his throat. “If you play guitar as good as you plow, your band is goin’ places…”
“I wish, man…” Logan said. He heard a knock on the door to the bathroom, but it seemed distant and unimportant. He heard the security guard Gerald say something. Logan hated Gerald, who had called the cops on him last month because he thought Logan was homeless — Logan was merely sleeping on a bench near the mall doors. “Fuck off, Gerald!” he shouted towards the door. Then he lowered his head and voice, and spoke to Avery. “We better hurry up. Gerald’s a fucking moron, but he’ll get the key and come in here eventually.”
“Okay,” Avery said, his voice weak and wavery because he was already on the verge of his orgasm. He didn’t much care about getting caught either.
“Gonna put you in a headlock, don’t worry, I won’t hurtcha,” Logan said. He grimaced as he wrapped that massive guitar-playing arm around Avery’s neck. He didn’t know why he wanted to do that so bad, except that he had tried once when fucking a girl and she reacted like he did something terrible. She said his hairy body was kind of gross, she didn’t want to be wrapped up in his sweaty arms like that.
So it was nice for Logan that Avery didn’t seem upset about his hairy body or the musk of his armpits. He wrapped both arms around his face, and Logan even let Avery bite down as they both orgasmed. Avery gnawed on Logan’s rock-hard arm-flesh, while Avery sprayed a massive wad onto the floor of the bathroom.
Logan’s creamy cum flowed into Avery in great thick wads. Logan didn’t shoot a stream like most men, he sprayed in short but massive spurts that kept coming and coming. Each time he did, his whole body twitched again, muscles all tensing and rubbing against Avery’s smooth back.
“Hey! Open the door, sir! You have to let me in! This is mall security! My name is Gerald!”
Logan snorted mid-orgasm — Gerald was so self-important it hurt to hear him. Logan sighed, breath condensing on Avery’s cheek as the last few drops of his cum drained into Avery’s tight asshole.
Another loud knock on the door, which rattled in its frame. Then Gerald swore as he walked away. “Hello?! I’m getting the key!”
Logan scoffed and chuckled. He pulled his dick out, letting his entire load drip out too. He pulled Avery back and aimed his ass down so that entire cumwad would flow out onto the floor. Logan’s moist, crackling voice filled the air. “C’mon, let’s get dressed. Leave a big mess for that tubby security motherfucker.”
The bathroom was hot and humid now, or at least it seemed that way to Avery. It stank too, ina good way from Avery’s perspective. Logan was less enthused. It was the smell of fucking fat chicks at a show, he thought. That ain’t a good smell. It signifies something good, but it is not good. Logan wrinkled his nose.
“Stinks in here, man, fuckin’-A,” Logan said. His dick swayed and jiggled between his legs. Logan looked down at it, in no hurry to tuck it away. He shrugged. “You want some tickets to our next show. Gimme ya phone number, I’ll send you tickets.”
Avery was too tired to think. He just nodded and smiled, his ass aching. He stretched his legs and hurried to pull his pants on, then texted Logan so he could get those tickets. Avery was probably not going to go, he was just being polite. Logan was the singer in a rock band — at a show, he was going to have women to fuck. Avery might as well be invisible. He didn’t really want to listen to Clusterfuck’s music.
But he liked the idea. They must have something on an app, Avery could listen to it to be polite. And it was obvious the real reason Logan wanted Avery’s phone number so he could arrange a meet-up some other time, when he had a hardon and no groupie around to fuck.
It was only then that they both noticed Logan’s shirt in the toilet.
Logan laughed. “Hell yeah, Gerald gonna have to do somethin’ ‘bout that.” He turned around to leave without the shirt. “He gonna get toilet water all over himself! Fuckin’ bitch!” He spat in the direction he imagined Gerald was in, but his spit simply splattered on the wall of the bathroom.
Avery usually cleaned himself off pretty good, but he was in a hurry. Logan didn’t care — Logan tucked his dick away without even wiping all the santorum off it, and he just walked out on bare feet and shirtless. Avery raced to follow him while Logan put his shoes and socks on out in the mall.
Everyone stared at Logan’s bare chest, which was hairy and gleaming with sweat. Avery’s hair was a mess, Logan was shirtless, both their clothes crooked. Logan hopped along as he slid into those bleach-stained boots.
Gerald the security guard was on his way back with the key when they saw him. He scowled at Logan and said, “You can’t be in the mall without a shirt on, man, I’ll call the cops again.”
Logan shrugged. “Fuck you, Gerald.” He went with Avery to the music store.
Avery was a law-abiding person, more or less. So telling a security guard to fuck off and hanging around shirtless in contravention of the rules while cops were on the way was nerve-wracking for him. Logan didn’t seem to care.
The clerk took Avery’s money. He cast a sideways glance at Logan but didn’t complain about the lack of a shirt — it was Avery who actually paid for the guitar, strings and drumsticks, after all, so there was no point in kicking Logan out and causing another argument with him.
“Shit, fuck yeah,” Logan said when Avery handed him the guitar. “Gonna sound good tonight.”
Avery smiled and blushed as he followed Logan out. “What was your band’s name again?”
“Clusterfuck. All one word. Look us up, we’s on YouTube and Google and Spotify,” he said. Then he added, more shamefacedly, “And join the Facebook group. That’s good for us, for real.”
“I definitely will.”

The Plumber

Rob hires a plumber with a body to die for and an ex-wife he can’t stand. Luckily Rob is there to help him out with a soft touch, an open mouth and a willing ass!
Can Rob get his plumbing fixed at last?

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Rob had never seen a pleasant plumber. They were always fat and gross in his experience, like a sour frog mated with a rejected hog. So when Dino showed up, his knees went weak. Rob stood there at the front door, quaking like a child.
Dino was a tall, broad-shouldered man, with swarthy skin betraying his Greek heritage, though his accent had the baritone stawk of an American man. He had a dense mop of curly black hair that extended in an unruly mess all the way to his shoulders, not that he had a long hairstyle — he had a short hairstyle that was overgrown enough to cover his nape. He wore a tight wifebeater, much too small for his expansive frame, and a thick layer of curly black hair extruded from beneath it.
He had a surly look about him. A lot of people would have seen him as rude — quite accurately — but Rob didn’t care. Rudeness didn’t bother Rob. Meanness did. Some people had forgotten there was a difference. Rob thought that difference was the most important fact that was largely unknown and unspoken of.
It was a simple job, and it only took a few hours. Rob went away to surf the web. It was difficult to distract himself, and he kept getting hard thinking about Dino there under the sink. Dino was sprawled out, head in the under-sink cabinet, long thick legs stretched across the kitchen floor.
“What?” Dino’s angry voice spat out. It was deep and resonant.
Rob was flush with fear. Had he angered Dino? Had he offended him? He wasn’t even in the same room. He cautiously crept into the kitchen.
“I told you about that.” Dino said. His fingers gripped the cell phone tight as he held it to his ear, rolling out from the undersink cabinet. The wide nostrils of his fat nose flared. His shoulder muscles rippled beneath the wifebeater that was now sweaty and marked with grease. He stood up and paced in the kitchen. “I told you — baby, look, I said I’d pay for it, right? So — so just fuckin’ wait for it! Don’t tell me not to curse at you, you’ve been cursing at me since the moment I answered the phone! Well fuck you, I told you about that and you dumped me, so it’s none of your business, you fat stupid cow!”
He hung up the phone and nearly slammed it on the counter but stopped himself at the last moment. He tossed it into his toolbox instead, then he roared and shadowboxed the air, his face ruddy and his hands tightened into fists.
“Sorry about that,” he said. “That was my bitch ex-wife. She’s such a fucking whore. You know she’s makin’ me pay for my daughter’s makeup? I don’t even think she should be wearing makeup yet, she’s only thirteen. I said no. I threw it all away into the garbage. But I don’t get a say, I just have to pay for it.” His face was red and he paced in Rob’s tiny kitchen. He stopped and looked at Rob. “Sorry. She’s just… She’s being a bitch. Wants me to cough up two hundred bucks out of the blue. Like I’m fuckin’ made of money.”
“I know how you can make two hundred bucks,” Rob said with a flirtatious grin, which he hoped looked nonchalant. “Not plumbing. I mean, in addition to the plumbing.” Rob reached out to pat Dino on the belly through his wifebeater. He had so much body hair there Rob didn’t feel the firmness of his flesh, just the tangle of body hair beneath the fabric of his shirt. Dino showed no reaction. Rob said, “And if you do it the way I tell you, I’ll give you five hundred.”
He cocked his head to the side. “Do what?”
“I’ll give you a hint,” Rob said. He blushed and grabbed for the loose waistband of Dino’s jeans. He tickled the rim of his boxers, and Dino’s eyes opened wide. His muscles all tensed. “It’s long, I’m pretty sure, and thick, and it’s probably a light brown, and I’ll make it feel very good-“
“You, uh…” Dino paused. “You tryin’…?” He looked away and bit his lip.
“Yes. Exactly. I’m not big and tough like you, and I’ve read that playing with the dick of a bigger man can make me stronger. I’ll make you forget that bitch ex-wife,” Rob said. “I just want you to help me embarrass my own embarrassing former family. My dad. He’s disowned me, I like to call him sometimes and let some guy he’d think is white trash make it clear he’s made me his bitch.”
Dino blushed and laughed nervously. He covered his mouth with his face. He grabbed his crotch with his other hand. “Let’s, uh, be clear,” he said. His eyes flashed menacingly. “I ain’t gonna touch your dick. You don’t get up in my ass or nothing. I will rip yo’ face off if you even think about it.”
“No, no, nothing like that. I’ll swallow your dick. You stick me in the ass. You make a lotta noise when I call my stepdad,” Rob said with a shrug.
Dino paused. He caressed his own chest, his muscles rippling as he looked away from Rob — he found eye contact very intense and uncomfortable right now. He sighed like he was going to say yes, but then he stopped and reconsidered. He opened his mouth. He laughed again. “Aw, fuck, it’s for my daughter…”
“A noble cause,” Rob said. He gently touched Dino’s meaty but flat belly, through his wifebeater. Then he pushed one of his fingers beneath the fabric, tracing a trail through the sweaty hair there. His chest muscles rippled when Rob came into contact with them.
“You, uh, want me to take a shower first?” He asked. He raised one arm and sniffed at the pit. “I stink-“
“No!” Rob blushed and rammed his head into Dino’s hairy armpit. He suckled on the coarse, sweat-slickened hairs there, which made Dino chuckle. Normally Dino was ticklish there, but he was too shocked to react that way. He was used to people treating his sweaty, hairy body as gross — as impressive, given his muscles, but still foul-smelling and unpleasant no matter how much he washed. Dino was used to it by now, so he found it weird and off-putting to have someone actually worshiping every inch of his raunchy flesh.
“Damn, you are nasty,” Dino said with a bass chuckle, which Rob heard through the thickness of Dino’s chest.
Rob licked the flesh of Dino’s chest. He licked over Dino’s hairy pecs, lapping at the kinky hairs and sucking up all the sweat. Dino’s muscles rippled as he tensed up. He had never had a girl who was really, genuinely into his muscles and hairy body — they occasionally thought he was handsome enough, but they would have preferred he was smaller and smoother.
But Dino couldn’t do anything about that. He had been beat up too much as a kid to be willing to slim down, and anyway he was a big boy by nature. He put on muscle-weight easily, so he worked out a lot. At first he had only worked out because he wanted to look good for when he picked up chicks. He had simply overshot his goal, and he refused to change his trajectory, so he just kept getting bigger and bigger and less and less appealing to women.
He felt self-conscious and vulnerable when Rob undid his belt and dropped Dino’s heavy workpants. His cock and balls dangled. His dick had never been so limp, and he wasn’t even sure he’d be able to get hard. Finally he had the bright idea to bring up some medical-supply catalogue models on his cell phone. Hot chicks dressed as nurses usually got him going. It was close enough to pornography, if you know the right sites to look at.
Rob saw Dino take out his phone and mumble to himself as he looked up some chicks. Rob didn’t mind, he was used to servicing big alphas in need of women to get fully hard. He inhaled deeply of Dino’s musk, then swallowed his dick to the root. It was limp and soft, but as soon as it touched Rob’s tongue, it twitched.
It pulsated in Rob’s mouth. He could tell when Dino found a pic he was really into because his dick jumped and hardened. It went from soft to erect as stonehenge in seconds, and Dino groaned over Rob’s head. He began pumping his hips back and forth, gently at first but with more force with each thrust of his hips. His swollen cock rubbed on Rob’s tongue, while Rob’s hands gripped the hairy firmness of Dino’s thighs.
As the sour taste of precum overwhelmed Rob, he gurgled merrily. Dino tasted salty and sweet, and a little like seawater — his precum tasted like Rob imagined seawater did on a remote Greek island. It tasted sunny and warm and savory, and it made Rob’s mouth water as he savored the creaminess and the brine that assaulted his senses. He licked and lapped at that throbbing cock, while giggling at how it made Dino twist and writhe as though it hurt.
Really though Dino just contorted because it felt so good. His knees were weak. His body was overcome by pleasure wafting over him in waves. He wanted to grab ahold of Rob’s head and fuck his throat like a slut’s pussy. Dino rarely got the chance to cum in anyone’s mouth like that — mostly girls thought his body hair was gross enough that any kind of contact was a favor. Women disliked the way his chest hair, back hair, crotch hair, leg hair and armpit hair all kind bled together into a carpet of fur. Rob loved a hairy man. Dino’s ex-wife had made him lick her pussy without ever sucking his dick, and then when he complained, she called him a misogynist.
None of that bothered Rob in the slightest. He loved a hairy man.
His cock spewing prejizz into Rob’s mouth, Dino grunted. He was still on the page for that nursing catalogue when a call came. It bounced him off the website and those beautiful blonde nurses disappeared. He was angered, especially when he saw that it was his ex-wife again.
“Fuckin’ bitch,” he murmured to himself. He answered the phone, which required him to bend over and grab it from the toolbox he had put it away in. His hairy asscheeks loomed high in the air for just a moment. Then Dino snarled into the phone, “What?”
“You are such an asshole, Dino! You never told me about that slutty bitch at the club. It’s just like Tampa all over again-“
“It is not, you stupid bitch!” Dino screamed. “I did tell you about her, and I ain’t fuck her, and we ain’t together so it wouldn’t be any of ya bizness if I did! I don’t gotta tell you ‘bout this shit!”
“If you ever want to see your daughter, I have to be convinced you have a healthy living environment, Dino. You can’t be getting drunk with sluts.”
“I don’t do that when I have Lydia! You are one miserable bitch of a cock-sucking whore! How’s that accountant’s dick taste, huh?”
“Dino! I can’t deal with you when you’re like this. I oughta send my brother over there-“
“Go ahead, I’ll kick his ass again,” Dino said. “What do you want, Marina? I’m busy right now, I got a girl over.”
You’re not at work?
“She was one of my clients. She been beggin’ for my meat,” Dino said.
Yeah, right. You’re a pussy, Dino. And you’re a hairy fuck.
Dino whispered, “make some sounds like a girl.” Then he put the phone next to Rob’s mouth. Rob blushed but did as he was told. As he swallowed, he made loud gurgling sounds, taking care to ensure his voice was as feminine as could be.
Ew, god, Dino, did you just put the phone near your cock? That sounded disgusting. You’re disgusting. She sounds like a total slut. And she sounds fat.
“You’re disgusting, you stupid bitch,” Dino said. “I gotta go. I got my dick in a girl who’s worth a damn.” He hung up, glad he had gotten the final word for once. That rarely happened. He grinned down at Rob.
His dick throbbed in Rob’s mouth like getting the final word made his erection firmer. Now that Dino had gotten more comfortable with this whole thing, he went ahead and plowed into his throat hard. He wrapped his meaty palms around the back of Rob’s head. Rob paused to situate himself at the perfect angle to deep-throat Dino, who began grinding his dick into Rob’s gullet.
That must have sent a wave of sensations through Dino, who groaned and threw his head back when he felt the earliest tingling of his orgasm. He went slow, not wanting to blow his load so soon. He ground his dick into Rob’s throat, which spasmed and struggled to accept every inch of his load.
Dino had been raised Greek Orthodox, so he was overcome with guilt as he pounded. Dino had always thought masturbation was wrong. A man should save up his seed for the holiness of matrimonial passion. He really ought to start going to church, to prove he’s not a degenerate, but also because his ex could try to get him in legal trouble and a history of going to church would look good in court. Plus Dino’s mother would want be furious if she knew he wasn’t a churchgoer.
It didn’t seem like it should be sinful to Rob. He was just jacking off in a welcome, warm, wet hole — what could be sinful about that? The Bible didn’t forbid it. Rob pulled off Dino’s cock and slobbered on the tip. He smiled up at Dino.
“You’re gonna put on a show on my phone too, right? I wanna embarrass my dad,” Rob said.
Dino shrugged. “Fine, whatevuh.” His muscles rippled again as a shiver of pleasure ran up his body. Rob didn’t even stop servicing his cock when he pulled his own phone out of the pocket, and he didn’t let it pop out of his mouth as he scrolled through his contacts either. Finally, he dialed his dad.
When Rob gave him his phone, Dino was surprised — he assumed Rob would start the conversation. He didn’t know what to say to Rob’s father, and he was so overwhelmed by the pleasure snaking through his body that he didn’t know if he could come up with anything to say.
“Yo. Hey, Mr. Winthrop?” Dino asked, his voice wavering because the pleasure arising from his loins.
Yes. Who, may I ask, is calling? He sounded annoyed at being interrupted. Rob snickered around the cock in his mouth. He’d changed his phone number so his dad would accept his calls again, and it looked like that worked.
“Yo, uh, this is Dino. I just wanted to say thanks, for makin’ ya son. He got a nice tight throat, and my dick fits perfectly down it.”
A loud sigh came from the phone. Am I on speaker-phone? Robert, this is truly immature behavior.
“His mouth is full, sir, full of my dick. He looks good wit’ dick in his throat,” Dino said. “You wanna listen as I stick ‘im? I’m gonna stick him in the ass now.”
He grabbed Rob by the hips, and pulled him off. His dick was cold and alone, begging for attention — Rob tried to stroke it as he got in position, but Dino kept moving, making it impossible to jack him off as they arranged themselves.
Rob dropped his pants and bent over on all fours. He put the phone on the ground in front of his face, so his father could hear everything that happened.
“Hey, Dad! I’m just using my inheritance,” Rob said. “I paid Dino five hundred dollars to stick his dick in me.”
Robert… You shame me.
“I know, but you deserve it,” Rob said. He threw his head back and moaned as Dino slipped into him. There was an intense, uncontrollable pressure. He moaned again, as loud as he could, a powerful, cringing sound that resonated in the kitchen. Rob’s father groaned in disgust.
You don’t need to call me for this.
“I absolutely do!” Rob said. His voice broke as a twinge of pleasure erupted in his prostate. He pushed his ass back, squeezing every inch of Dino’s dick into him.
Now that he had started and was into the groove of it, Dino was less nervous. He was surprised by how easy this really was — Rob’s ass felt exactly like a girl’s. It helped that Rob was such a feminine man, with a bubble-butt that was smooth, clean and unblemished, not to mention tight. He writhed like a sexy snake below Dino’s firm body.
“Yo’ son is a pervert, Mr. Winthrop!” Dino called out. He cackled. “That’s my dick in his ass!”
Really, son, you are disgusting. I’m hanging up now. And then he did so.
Rob was disappointed, but he wasn’t surprised. Dad always hung up once the noise started getting really passionate; Rob liked to imagine that he sobbed once he hung up the phone, but he didn’t know if that was true or not. Rob reached behind himself to spread his asscheeks, giving Dino more access to his asshole.
With a loud roar, Dino slapped Rob’s asscheek. He held onto it tightly as he humped. When he had gotten started, Dino didn’t want to touch any more of Rob than he absolutely had to. He was worried he’d feel some body hair and remember he was deep in a man. He’d be humiliated if his dick went soft in the middle of this.
But now that he was into it, he wasn’t worried about that all. Rob’s ass felt exactly like a girl’s, and he was so smooth he put most girls to shame. Dino gripped his ass and slammed his dick all the way in.
“Take it, bitch, god-damn!”
Once he was more comfortable with it, he knew what position he wanted — no girl ever let him do it for more than a few seconds because they said he was too heavy and hairy. But Dino had long wanted to do it laying on his partner’s back.
So that was what he did. He rammed his dick until it was all the way in, and he wrapped one forearm in front of Rob’s mouth. He sighed and moaned directly into the back of Rob’s head. His sweaty, hairy chest plopped down on Rob’s back. Bliss flooded Dino’s body, making his chest muscles spasm and flex against the smoothness of Rob’s spine and shoulders.
Entirely pinned beneath the Greek giant, Rob couldn’t even squirm, due to Dino’s heavy body pressing down on his back. He couldn’t breathe either, both because of the mass of Greek muscle atop his back and because he was too overcome by passion to take a breath. The body hair scratched Rob’s smooth back and left a sheen of sweat that Rob both felt and smelled.
“Hell, bitch, slut… You take dick good, damn! You must do this a lot…”
Dino rotated his hips, moving his dick in a wide circle within Rob’s ass. He hit every corner of Rob’s insides, his cock aiming into every part of Rob’s guts. He could even tell — as disgusting as it was — when his dick touched Rob’s prostate because it made Rob writhe beneath his body. He couldn’t move much, but Dino could feel his body struggle to squirm, and he sensed the pleasure roiling Rob’s innards.
Rob gasped, and Dino grunted.
Finally Dino felt his orgasm coming on strong. Rob had stopped breathing, the pressure in his ass so intense he couldn’t even gasp. Dino snorted like a hog, the sound of his rutting filling the air and echoing in Rob’s ears. Spasm of pleasure wracked both men’s bodies, which made Dino’s muscles ripple while Rob gaspingly pressed his back into Dino’s hairy chest.
“Here I go, baby, gonna fill you up, I love you so much, sweetheart-” Dino stopped and blushed because he remembered he wasn’t talking to a female. Luckily Rob either didn’t hear his words or didn’t take them seriously.
A wad of hot cum sprayed into Rob’s ass. Dino groaned loudly, his deep voice resonant and rough like sandpaper. His cum was hot and creamy, and it seeped into Rob’s flesh. Rob moaned as he shot his own load onto the floor and into his hand. Dino wrinkled his nose in disgust — he hadn’t known Rob was pleasuring himself — but he didn’t stop Rob even if it seemed disrespectful. Dino had been raised to believe a real man commanded respect, and he didn’t let his bitch distract him.
But this was too potent an orgasm to do anything while it still coursed through his veins. Dino’s hands curled into claws, then tightened into fists. He smacked Rob, not outright punching him of course, but hitting him in an affectionate way — or at least he saw it as affectionate; Rob saw it as bullying, but he was so aroused by it so he didn’t complain — harder than he would have ever hit a girl. More and more jizz jetted into Rob, until he was drenched inside and couldn’t even feel if it was still happening. But he could still feel Dino’s thickness throbbing within him, as cream and santorum dripped out between his legs.
He burped and laughed. Any girl would have kicked him out of bed for burping in their face, but Rob inhaled deeply of it and moaned. Dino screwed his nose up in disgust. His cock slowly limpened, but he remained in position, deep in Rob’s ass, his heavy body pressing down on Rob’s back.
“You ain’t gonna stiff me, is you?” Dino asked. It hadn’t occurred to him before now that Rob could just refuse to pay him, and Dino would have no recourse. He should have demanded money upfront. His dick still lay in Rob’s ass, its pulsations sending waves of pleasure up his spine.
“No. I won’t. I’ve got cash in my wallet,” Rob said, his voice strained and clipped. He bit his lip and moaned.
Dino nodded and moved to get up. When he did, his dick swam through the sea of cum that gurgled within Rob’s ass. He could feel the sticky fluid clinging to his soft cockflesh. Rivulets of jizz slid out Rob’s behind and onto the floor.
“Wait,” Rob said. “Can you stay there for a moment? I like feeling you inside me.”
“Fine,” Dino said with a grunt. It now felt pretty gross — this was more what he had imagined it would feel like before he started. He was intimately aware with every passing moment that he was inside a man’s ass. There was no way to pretend he was with a woman, not now. He reached out and grabbed Rob’s pants. “In here?”
“Yeah.” Rob’s voice was weak and wavery.
Dino pulled out the wallet. He briefly considered stealing Rob’s credit cards, but he figured someone as wealthy as Rob probably had excellent security on the cards, and Dino didn’t want to get in any legal trouble, as he might lose the right to see his daughter at all. He pulled out the cash — there was six hundred dollars in there. He took it all, though he had only been promised five hundred dollars.
“I’m taking six hundred dollars. The extra hundred bucks is for the performance I put on for your daddy,” Dino said. He pulled his dick out of Rob’s ass. “And you still gotta pay for the sink too.”
“Okay,” Rob said with a sigh. He turned around and frotted his dick with Dino’s much bigger, caramel-colored shaft. He smushed them both together.
Dino sneered. “That’s nasty, that’s nasty,” he said. But he let it continue for a few seconds, looking away. “I ain’t do no circle-jerkin’ since I was a merchant marine.” He glanced at Rob’s curious face. “When I lived in Greece, I was a merchant marine. Ain’t no females around, just a buncha A-rabs, and they do, y’know…” His cheeks turned red. “They do circle-jerkin’. I ain’t wanna.” He laughed. “But I did.” He finally put his cock away.
“Thanks, Dino,” Rob said. “You’re a great plumber.”

Reacharound From a Drill Sergeant

Avery is a cleaner at a military base, so when he decides to tease a cruel drill sergeant, he is able to take it farther than he ever thought possible! Avery is not as obedient as Sergeant Powers expects his cadets to be, which means Avery just might be in for a reacharound he’ll never forget…

Sir, yes, sir!

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Avery stood in the barrack with a mop in hand. He waited. He thought it would be a long wait, but that didn’t end up being the case.
That was because Drill Sergeant Powers went for a run this morning. He didn’t always run in the mornings because there was a good chance he’d run across some cadets doing something against the rules — sneaking back onto base after an illicit night in town, for example — and then he’d need to punish them. He had a reputation for strictness, so he couldn’t look the other way when he saw cadets sneaking in. But he didn’t want to enforce every rule quite that strictly. He thought it was important to let them get away with certain things. It provided a certain sense of camaraderie among soldiers, and it gave them skills in sneaking, spycraft and teamwork. Plus, ignoring certain lesser offenses gave him the time and the latitude to go after major ones.
So he only went for an early-morning jog when he was pretty sure he wouldn’t run across any cadets breaking the rules. Today, he could easily make that assumption because there were no cadets on the base — they had all left yesterday, to be replaced later today by the first of the new batch.
So as far as Sergeant Powers was concerned, the base was empty. It wasn’t literally empty, of course, there were support staff and other drill sergeants, plus the ever-burgeoning ranks of military administration. But compared to the constant thrum of activity from the young men who filled up the barracks, this was a dead land, like the corpse of a military base, like it was some post-apocalyptic wasteland, Powers thought, and nature was about to start reclaiming this area.
When Sergeant Powers saw a flash of movement in one of the barracks, he barged right in. There shouldn’t be anyone in there, he thought, unless one of the cleaners had come in early today.
“Who’s in there?” His booming voice rang out.
Avery started mopping when he heard Sergeant Powers come into the barrack. Powers was burly and middle-aged and a bit jowly but with a body to die for, great strapping muscles and thick thighs. This morning he wore a tight tee shirt, Army-green, soaked with sweat until it was nearly translucent. Avery could see the hair coating his chest through the shirt.
And oh god those shorts made Avery’s dick hard. They were ridiculous — the kind of short-shorts that the Army made soldiers wear back in the 50s, when that was normal. They would have made Daisy Duke blush. They showed off Sergeant Powers’s thick thighs and tightly accentuated the pouch of his jockstrap stretching the fabric of the shorts, which pulled them low enough that one of the straps was visible running above his plump old-man ass.
“Oh, hi,” Avery said. He smiled bashfully as though this was an accident and he hadn’t meant to see Sergeant Powers like this. Hmmm… he’s got on nasty old shoes… Avery wasn’t a foot-fetishist, but he thought it was cute that Sergeant Powers still wore these ancient, dilapidated sneakers — the young men on base always wore fashionable, ultra-clean sneakers when running. Only old guys would wear old-fashioned short-shorts with beaten-down old shoes.
Of course Sergeant Powers wasn’t old, he was maybe forty-five or so, that was why Avery had been lusting for him for so long. He blushed when he made eye contact with Sergeant Powers, who looked at him suspiciously.
“You’re a cleaner. Why are you here so early?”
“I just… I have a doctor’s appointment later today,” Avery said. “I needed to get my work done early. They said there are no cadets today so it didn’t matter-“
“Yes.” Sergeant Powers barked like he was angry. Then he snorted and wiped his lips with one hand. He interacted almost exclusively with cadets he was allowed to order around, so he sometimes had trouble focusing on a more normal interaction with civilians. “Yes,” he said more softly, though his voice was still a guttural growl that bounced around in Avery’s ears.
“Oh,” Avery said, blushing. “Cool.” He resumed mopping, but he jutted his ass out, aiming it at Sergeant Powers.
Avery didn’t need to be facing him to tell that there was a reaction on Sergeant Powers’s face. His eyes opened wide, and he took a deep breath, nostrils flaring. Avery could feel his eyes aimed at Avery’s plump ass.
Avery mopped, but the mop just shifted around uselessly because he focused more on seducing Sergeant Powers, who now had no reason to be in the barrack but still hadn’t left. His eyes were trained on Avery’s ass.
Then he grunted. “Uh, I… I… What is that?!” he bellowed at no one in particular and picked up a pair of scissors somebody had left behind on a counter. “It’s scissors! It’s… Somebody left these. Nothing sharp in the barracks.”
“Uh-huh. You want me to throw them away for you?” Avery said. He took the scissors, ignoring the growing bulge in Sergeant Powers’s shorts — which were too short and tight to leave anything to the imagination.
Sergeant Powers’s whole body bucked. He closed his eyes and didn’t say anything at first. Then at last he gurgled and said, “No… I… I will keep them.” He put them back down.
“Are you okay?” Avery asked, clucking his tongue. “You look weak. Maybe you’ve been jogging too much, you poor baby.” He patted Sergeant Powers on the sweaty side of his body, and his touch made his whole body ripple, and a little baritone grunt was emitted from his mouth. Avery held his hand up. “Ew, you’re all sweaty!” He smiled at Sergeant Powers. “That’s so gross.”
“Sorry.” Sergeant Powers blushed. He was glad no cadets were around. He had blushed talking to a woman once in front of some cadets, and years later whole new groups of cadets had heard about it and laughed.
“Oh, that’s okay, sweetie, you can make it up to me,” Avery said. “My back itches.” He turned around and rubbed his back and ass against Sergeant Powers’s body, his sweaty flesh rubbing against Avery’s clothed ass and back. Avery felt the hardon in Sergeant Powers’s shorts, and he felt all of his muscles ripple again when his hardon pulsated and a grunt fell out of his mouth.
“Shit… I… Ain’t you s’posed to be mopping?” Sergeant Powers said. Goddamn, that ass just doesn’t quit.
“Hmmm… Yes, I’m supposed to,” Avery said. “But I just can’t seem to focus. I don’t have the discipline.”
“Discipline is my specialty,” Sergeant Powers said. His nostrils flared. “Get back to mopping, cadet!”
Avery saluted — though he faced the wrong way, so he merely saluted the bunk in front of him. “Sir, yes, sir!” He took the mop in hand and started running it over the floor in a little circle. “Sir, like this, sir?” He bent over even farther to keep his ass in front of Sergeant Powers’s crotch.
“No, cadet, you little shitheel maggot! Ain’t ya mama evuh teach you to mop, motherfucker!”
“Sir, no, sir, I’m sorry-“
“Well then I reckon your mama must be the dumbest cunt a donkey ever fucked onstage, ain’t that right? Is your daddy a donkey, son?”
“Sir, yes, sir!” Avery said. He held back a series of snickers, but he soon let up and the snickers turned into full-on guffaws. He stopped when Powers aimed a threatening face at him.
“You laughin’ at me, cadet? Am I a clown for ya? Huh? Do I amuse you?”
“Sir, no, sir-“
“Cuz I said to mop, not laugh. I ain’t seein’ a lotta moppin’ goin’ on!” His deep voice echoed in the empty barrack. Avery took a step away then to keep his teasing going. He mopped seriously for just a moment, then looked over his shoulder at Sergeant Powers’s ruddy face. “Did I say to look at me, cadet?! You don’t decide where to look! Your eyes are owned by Uncle Sam now, and Uncle Sam wants ‘em aimed at that floor! You had better mop until I can eat off that floor!”
“Sir, yes, sir!” Avery said, holding back a giggle. “Sir, when you eat off the floor, are you going to do it like this?” Avery lowered his head until his face was on the floor, but he kept his ass high in the air, shaking it back and forth in front of Sergeant Powers’s body. His dick was blatantly hard now, and it must have slipped out of his jockstrap because it jutted forward in his shorts.
“Cadet! You’re playing games, and if it’s not Tiddlywinks, I am not interested in any games! Do you understand me?”
“Sir, yes, sir!”
“Because I’m not so sure you do! Where are you from, cadet?!”
“Canada. Most recently.”
“Canada?! Canada?! The only thing they got in Canada is boars and whores, and I don’t hear you squealing like a piggie! Not yet anyway.”
“Sir, not yet, sir! I can squeal like a piggie on command! Or any other squeal-type animal! Sir!”
“You look like the kinda man who would ram another man in the ass and not have the common courtesy to give that man a reacharound! Is that the kind of man you are?”
“Sir, no, sir! I love reacharounds, sir-” Avery yelped because he felt one of those big sausage-like fingers on his ass. Powers gripped his cheeks roughly, like a hunk of dough he wanted to rip off. A chamberous growl came out of his chest at the same time. Avery moved to stand up, but Sergeant Powers pushed him back to the mop. Avery had to lean on it for support.
“Let’s see if that’s true! If you’re lying to me, boy, I swear, I will have you guarding Bumfuck, Canada from the walrus-men before you can blink! Do you believe me?!”
“Sir, yes, sir! I’m from Bumfuck, Canada, sir, I know the walrus-men. They want only peace and fresh mackerel-“
“You think this is a joke, cadet?!” His hand rammed underneath Avery’s pants, pulling them down roughly and tearing his underwear in his haste to bare his ass. “I didn’t tell you to stop mopping, did I?”
“Sir, no, sir! Uh… I just didn’t want to be distracted — so I can do the best mopping job possible-“
His callused fingers kneaded Avery’s ass with such force it hurt. One of his fingers extended into Avery’s smooth asscrack. He teased the rim of his hole. “You had better do the best job possible! This Army is not in the business of giving a gun and a uniform to any piece of shit capable of doing a couple push-ups, you little pissant! This Army gives guns and uniforms to men, who can do things right the first time, men who can follow orders, cadet!”
“Sir, yes, sir!”
“So you keep mopping and you don’t stop even for one moment!” Sergeant Powers grinned behind Avery, his heart pounding. He hadn’t expected today to go like this. He hadn’t even been horny until he saw the cleaner — who worked for an outside contracting crew and was obviously a limpwristed sissy ogling cadets every chance he got, Powers had been noticing that for weeks. Then as soon as he saw Avery’s ass and felt it rubbing against his cock, Powers had been overwhelmed by an intense and uncontrollable desire to — as the young cadets said — ‘bust a nut’. That was not a vernacular Sergeant Powers could endorse. Literally, the Army had policies on that sort of thing.
Now he desperately wanted to ram someone who could take every inch of his big dick without complaint, allowing him to plow in with all his might. He loved women, of course, but they never really let him go hard, and sometimes, he didn’t want to be nice.
This was one of those times. “Don’t you turn your head and look at me, you little punk! Your ass belongs to the Army now!”
“Sir, yes, sir!”
His ass was bare, jutting upward. Sergeant Powers couldn’t even see his face now, just that ass, so plump and small yet big enough to have a little padding. He spread the cheeks and stroked his dick with one hand. “Do you feel like begging me to lube your ass up, cadet?!”
“Sir, yes, sir! Please, sir, lube me up! I can’t take it if you don’t use lube!”
“I don’t have any lube, so I’ll have to use spit, cadet! That’s all you’re worthy of anyway, I’d never spend money on lube for your dumb ass anyway!”
“Sir, yes, sir!” Avery cried out. He leaned forward on the mop handle, which he still tried to move around like he was cleaning the floor. But it was hard with Sergeant Powers kneading his ass flesh and spreading his cheeks. The mop itself was slippery, so it didn’t support Avery well, and he had to focus on keeping it upright instead of sliding away. That made it hard to arch his back as Sergeant Powers required.
When Powers got Avery’s ass high enough and his own crotch low enough, he lined his dick up with Avery’s hole. “Soldier, you had best get ready, cuz you is in for it now. You in for a world of trouble. You ready for it.”
“Ye — eeeesssss!” Avery yelped because Powers forced his dick in with one powerful thrust before Avery had even finished agreeing. A burst of pain erupted in Avery’s backside, followed by a surge of blood-curdling pleasure. He grunted and mewled, his body twisting back and forth because both his feet and the mop stayed in the same place.
“Does that hurt, cadet?” Sergeant Powers grunted. He spat noisily in his palm and wiped it on his dick, the tip of which sat in Avery’s tight asshole. His whole body undulated as he tried to ram and ram and ram, forcing his dick in despite Avery’s tight hole. He wanted to break that smoothbody open, and he pressed his hairy chest against Avery’s back. His chest hair was already matted to his skin with the sweat from the morning’s run, so it rubbed moist and coarse and salty all at once over Avery’s shoulders and spine. The sensation and the rank and utter manhood smell made Avery’s cock spasm and spew precum even before anybody had touched it.
Avery bit his lip. “Sir, yes, sir! It hurts bad!”
“No it doesn’t, cadet! Your ass is owned by the Army, right? That means you don’t feel pain without my permission!” He pumped his hips, forcing more and more of his dick in. Avery shuddered and moaned into the mop handle.
“Sir, yes, sir! I’m sorry, sir!”
“This feels as good as lemonade in August, you little punk!”
“Sir, yes, sir-“
“Shut up! You’re from Canada, cadet, you wouldn’t know jack-shit about hot summers!” He held back a chuckle as Avery’s back rippled and more of his dick slipped in that tight hole. Soon his balls swayed and slapped against Avery’s backside. That sent further ripples of bliss up Avery’s spine. Powers grunted. “To you, I expect this feels as good as gravy on ya french fries-“
“Sir, yes, sir!”
“Which I had better never see you do, cadet! If I ever see you put gravy on ya french fries in the mess hall, I swear I’ll stick my foot so far up your ass my toes sing ‘O, Canada’ using your goddamn vocal cords!”
“Sir, yes, sir!” Avery let out a loud moan as a wave of pleasure hit him suddenly. He lifted his head up, and the motion made the mop he was leaning on move — it was still wet and on the slick floor, so it was only a matter of time until it slid across the linoleum.
Avery would have toppled to the ground, but Sergeant Powers grabbed him. He was stretched out though, his entire body rigidly diagonal and taut, and he still felt like he would fall flat on his face and belly at any moment. He was supported entirely in Powers’s brick-muscled arms. His powerful chest pressed against Avery’s back, while cock throbbed in Avery’s ass.
“Ah, shit, son…” Sergeant Powers grunted, unable to bring himself to move now, even though it was difficult to keep Avery upright in this position, because it felt too good. But he didn’t want it to feel too much like he was making love so he moved his hips, grinding his dick and making Avery cry out again in both pleasure and pain. “Did I say to stop moppin’, cadet?!”
“Sir, no, sir!” Avery gritted his teeth and lifted his head arduously, ignoring the waves of pleasure making his back undulate and his mouth gasp for air. His responses now were more breathless and less loud, a fact that made Drill Sergeant Powers cluck his tongue.
“You ain’t usin’ ya big boy voice now, is ya! C’mon, lemme hear you say it!” Sergeant Powers said, watching as Avery’s hands trembled moving the mop handle around. He wasn’t really mopping effectively, but he was moving the mop across the floor. “C’mon, son, soldiers gotta have a voice you can hear!”
“Sir… I… Sir… I’m mopping now! Sir!” Avery gasped and squirmed, holding the mop handle against his body with both hands, so he used his entire lithe frame to move it around, like he was hugging and kissing the mop handle instead of Sergeant Powers.
A jolt of pleasure shot up Sergeant Powers’s spine as well, and he took a deep breath. His thick paws moved down Avery’s smooth body, grimacing a little when he felt his cock — Powers had jacked men off before — that kind of thing was not such a big deal when he was in boot camp, and circlejerks were common — yet he still felt a twinge of disgust at it.
Avery’s dick throbbed, rock-hard, in Sergeant Powers’s hand, the skin of which was rough like leather but slick from sweat and spit, which made it soft and intense and provocative of an intense constellation of sensations. Precum flowed down the shaft of Avery’s manhood, further lubing up Sergeant Powers’s grip. It felt angry, insistent, already humping his hand from the moment he touched it, Avery’s sticky precum lubing the shaft up and turned the coarse friction from his rough calluses to silky moisture that sent him into convulsions of pleasure. Avery had been craving a hand on his cock since this began, but he leaned on the mop with both of his own hands, making it impossible to touch himself.
One of the reasons Sergeant Powers gave handjobs was that it distracted his bottom and made his ass loosen up some. That worked on Avery too, who groaned and moaned as Powers’s cock drilled in and out, his ass now slack enough that Sergeant Powers could ram as hard as he wanted. Still Avery had to keep focus on the mop.
“Aaaah… Cadet, are you enjoying yourself?”
“Sir… Not as much as gravy on my french fries, sir!” Avery said through gritted teeth. He stuck his head in the air and howled, trying to muffle the sound at first, then he remembered the base was almost empty right now, so he could be as loud as he wanted.
Powers chuckled, making his dick pulsate in Avery’s sensitive ass. He could watch the pleasure wash over Avery’s body, making it ripple and stretch. Avery even lifted one of his feet off the ground like a dog until Sergeant Powers barked at him. “Why are you lifting your leg, cadet? Keep both feet on the floor!”
“Sir, yes, sir!” Avery said, gasping. His orgasm finally began, but was still inhibited by the tension of him nearly falling, trying to mop even as he got slammed in the ass and jacked off at the same time. “Sir… I’ve finished… mopping-” A moan escaped from his lips. “I’ve finished mopping this area, sir!”
“Well, then let’s mop over there,” Sergeant Powers said. He smirked as he took a step, forcing Avery to lift a foot again and take a single orgasm-inducing step. The motion sent a wave of blissful agony to wrack his body, and his knees buckled. Again, he almost fell to the floor. If Powers’s handjob wasn’t a little disrhythmic, unpracticed and callused, Avery would have already came all over his hand.
It took what felt like forever to move just a few yards, but then Avery began mopping the back area, near the toilets. His red face was tense, tears of sheer pleasure leaking down his cheeks as Sergeant Powers pounded into his prostate. Each thrust of his hips sent explosions of sensation through Avery’s body.
“Oh, god, shit, goddamn-” Avery’s voice broke, and he panted for air. His hands flailed, the mop toppling noisily to the ground.
Powers stopped ramming with his dick all the way in Avery’s ass, throbbing, feeling so thick inside him that Avery wondered if it was a fist. He lifted his head, leaning back until he felt that sweat-soaked tee shirt from Sergeant Powers’s morning run rubbing against Avery’s smooth back. “Cadet! Did you just address me without saying sir?!”
“Sir, yes, sir…” Avery moaned. For the first time since this had begun, he turned his head and looked at him. They both moved at once — so they both thought the other initiated it — and their kips interlocked. With Avery getting it up behind, his head craned to the side, it was a somewhat awkward kiss, but their tongues managed to collide within Avery’s mouth.
A burst of cum hit Avery’s insides, and he let out another moan, this one a blood-curdling, echoic moan that made the hairs on the back of Sergeant Powers’s head stand up. The sound reminded him that he was definitely with a man — as feminine as Avery was, that was a masculine wail — but it didn’t slow him down any, nor did the feel of sticky hot cum spreading over his fingers.
More juices sprayed out and onto the floor, while Powers filled Avery’s ass with a torrent of his white-hot cum. He held Avery tightly in place, letting his delicate lips lick on Powers’s tongue — not even really kissing anymore, just literally licking on it — as Avery writhed in his arms. Gobs of his cream coated Avery’s insides.
“Cadet-!” Powers tried to shout an order when Avery pulled away, but another wave of pleasure hit him, and his throaty voice broke. At the same moment, Powers shot another long flow of jizz, gallons of it, it felt like but probably wasn’t, Avery could feel the roping jets of jizz spurting into and leaking out of his ass. He exulted in the warmth seeping into his flesh, and he turned his head to the side so he could plunge his tongue back into Powers’s mouth.
The last few drops of Sergeant Powers’s cum drained into him, and still Powers didn’t let him go. Avery was still shooting a few last drops of his own climax onto the floor and the filthy water collected in the mop-bucket. Powers waited until he was done, Avery’s dick dangling limply in his grasp.
Then at last he let go and pulled out at the same time.
Avery would have slid to the ground, but Powers held him up, and then let him down gently on a bunk. Avery curled up, cum dripping out of his ass.
“Cadet! I’ll give you two minutes to rest, and then you had better get up and finish mopping!”
“Sir, yes, sir…” Avery said with a yawn. He stretched his legs. “Are you going to be around?”
Powers frowned. “No. I have things to do… Do you want to clean the showerhouse? You can watch me shower.”
“Yes!” Avery got up and giggled as the motion sent a fresh burst of pleasure from his still-sensitive ass. “I’d appreciate that very much,” he said with a salute. “Sir.”

The Clerk

Rob is in a big-box retail store when he spies a hunky redneck clerk shirking his job duties. Rob is all too eager to help out, in exchange for a chance to swing on this store clerk’s alpha male meat!

Can he handle the surprise in the Outdoor Supplies aisle?!

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The white guy looked like he was trying to sneak a nap among the shelves. He was tall, broad-shouldered, red-necked both literally and figuratively, and he had a lean ropy-muscled body beneath the blue All-Mart apron he wore. He also had on civilian clothes: a long-sleeve camo tee and camo pants, which Rob suspected were not regulation.
It was two o’clock in the morning at a twenty-four hour All-Mart. Rob had come here for beer before remembering that he was in Nebraska, where only liquor stores sold beer. He was disappointed. There was a black guy in the motel room next to him whom Rob thought he could jerk off in exchange for a few beers.
But this All-Mart clerk was also an attractive target. Jacob was the name on the nametag pinned to his chest. He was young, scruff-bearded, with dark hair and eyes. He appeared to be assigned to stock some hunting vests, which he had stacked in boxes on a handcart. But he was doing it so lazily he could only be wasting time deliberately. He leaned against the shelves and closed his eyes, as though going to take a nap standing up right here in the hunting and camping aisle.
“Excuse me,” Rob said. “I’ll pay you five hundred dollars if you let me jerk you off.”
His bleary eyes blinked. “What?” Jacob paused. “Wait, what?” He wrapped one hand over his All-Mart apron. “I…”
“Here, just a tip,” Rob said as he put a twenty-dollar bill in Jacob’s pants. He stuck it in the waist of his pants — making sure to get a feel of Jacob’s kinky pubic hair — then took Jacob’s big meaty hand in his. He got Jacob’s finger out and sucked on it, making Jacob’s eyes pop out and his face blush. Rob deep-throated his finger all the way down until he gagged. Rob grinned. “I’ll make you feel better than your girlfriend ever could. You ever cornhole a man, Jacob?”
“No…” He sounded nervous.
“It is dirty. It is nasty, and you will never blow a more satisfying nut,” Rob said. “I’ll give you a thousand dollars to ram me in the ass. C’mon… Let me go to town all over your cock. You’ll forget about your girlfriend, you won’t remember her name.”
“Felicia…” Jacob looked up and down the aisle to make sure nobody could hear this conversation.
“She sounds like a bitch.”
“Yeah. She kinda is.”
“A thousand dollars. What would you do with a thousand dollars?”
“Shit, buy a dirtbike,” he said without a moment’s hesitation.
“A dirtbike, that sounds fun,” Rob said. He plastered on a jovial smile. “What do you say? You don’t have to touch my dick.”
He looked around. “Let’s go in the back. Hey, if this black guy named Terrell walks in, I’m making you take it cuz you’s a snitch,” he said.
“Okay.”
He led Rob away from the hunting gear into the backroom. There was a small hidden corner there, blocked from view by a row of boxes. It smelled vaguely like weed, and there was ash on the floor, which suggested to Rob why Jacob thought they might be interrupted — this was where the employees came to smoke weed. Jacob closed his eyes and leaned against the wall.
He unzipped the fly of those camo pants and let his hoggish prick flop out. It was musty and musky, and it made Rob’s dick twitch in his pants. Rob put the tip in his mouth, looking up at Jacob to gauge his reaction — Jacob was horrified, eyes open wide, tongue lolling out of his mouth — but he didn’t complain, and in fact his back stiffened up as though he was steeling his nerves.
It stayed limp there at first, like Jacob was too nervous to get hard. Then Rob gurgled merrily on it, savoring the flavor, and that seemed to trigger Jacob to relax. He took a deep breath. His dick trembled and firmed up in Rob’s mouth.
Jacob wrapped his hands around Rob’s head. He acted like he was going to throat down Rob — which Rob would have loved — but instead he just gingerly guided Rob’s head up and down. He licked his lips.
“Damn, boy, you do that pretty good,” he said. He whispered, looking through the rows of shelves every few seconds to be sure no one was coming. It was late enough at night that Rob felt confident no one would interrupt them — there weren’t that many people even working right now to begin with, so what were the chances they would come into this little corner of the storage area?
Jacob, where are you?
The radio flickered into life from where it was clipped to Jacob’s pants. He sighed and bristled like he didn’t want to be interrupted. He bent down and picked up the radio. “This is my jerkoff boss,” he said. He pushed the ‘transmit’ button down. “I’m here.”
Are you done with Outdoor Supplies?
Jacob rolled his eyes. “No. I’m helping a customer right now. I’ll be back to finish it off in a few minutes.”
The boss’ voice sounded clipped, like he was angry but didn’t want to say anything inappropriate because he thought there was a customer nearby. I appreciate your commitment to customer service. However, your current assignment is stocking in Outdoor Supplies.
“Understood,” Jacob said. He made a mock military salute, as if Jerry could see through the radio. “My first commitment is to customer care, Jerry, and I take that very seriously.”
“Thanks so much for your help, Jacob!” Rob called out while the button was pushed, aiming his voice towards the radio. He and Jacob smirked while waiting for the boss to answer.
I’m glad you watched the training video, Jacob. Get back to Outdoor Supplies.
“Yes, sir,” Jacob said into the radio. Then he made a masturbation-gesture with one hand. “Fuckin’ dickhead. I swear to God, on my last day here, I am gonna beat that pencil-necked shitface until there ain’t nothin’ left to beat.” He paused and sneered down at Rob. “I never said that, by the way. I never threatened him.”
“Okay, yeah, no problem, I didn’t hear anything,” Rob said, breathless as he took a deep breath before resuming his deep-throating of Jacob’s magnificent meat.
Jacob groaned. “Every time I see him I wanna rip his goddamn head off. You heard the way he was talkin’ to me. He’s always like that. Talkin’ to me like I’m a shithead and he’s a fuckin’ saint for givin’ me a job. He’s just a fucking night manager at a All-Mart. That is the smallest amount of power that has ever gone to somebody’s head.”
Don’t forget to take care of the parking lot too, Jacob. You forgot last night.
Jacob scoffed. “I ain’t forget,” he said out loud. “I ain’t nevuh done that, Jerry. Never will neither. He don’t even usually notice if I do it or not.” He pushed the button down on the radio again. “Thanks Jerry, I’ll do that. I can’t wait to go the extra mile to help our customers enjoy our parking lot.”
I could do without the sarcasm.
“Me too!” Jacob said. He kept his eyes aimed down at his cock disappearing in Rob’s throat, and he shuddered as a frisson of pleasure ran up his spine.
Jacob…
“Thanks so much for your direction and management, Jerry. Your customer-centric philosophy and stick-to-it-iveness is really an inspiration to me. You’re like a father to me. Can you explain where babies come from?” Jacob chuckled, making his entire muscular body shift and his cock twitch in Rob’s mouth. Jacob was getting excited now, as his erection sent a wave of adrenaline through his body.
Jacob!
“Will you be my mentor? Heal my troubled soul with the power of customer service!”
Jacob, do I need to come over there?
“I’m with a customer right now, Jerry, giving a hundred and ten percent to make his shopping experience a safe and efficient one,” Jacob said. “Also, I’m respecting diversity.”
Rob nodded, mollywopping himself with Jacob’s cock. “That’s so important.”
Holding the radio in his hand for another minute or two, Jacob watched his dick slide in and out of Rob’s mouth. Soon it was clear that Jerry wasn’t going to respond. He had given up. Jacob scoffed and put the radio back on his belt. “They always make it seem like the radio is a good thing. You have to earn having a radio. But they don’t pay you any more for it, and it just means they get to keep radioing you to tell you to do stuff.”
“Uh-huh,” Rob said. He held onto Jacob’s dick and licked the shaft from tip to root. That made Jacob shudder and moan, and Rob could see the exquisite sensations wracking his body and making his taut muscles ripple.
As precum flooded Rob’s mouth, he gurgled and suckled loudly. He wanted to make Jacob a little uncomfortable, and that’s what the noise did — Jacob kept looking this way and that to be sure no one was coming.
Then a bolt of bliss shot up Jacob’s spine, and his face screwed up. He grunted and looked shocked. He gripped Rob’s ears and held on tight. He began grinding his dick down deep into Rob’s throat. He threw his head back and licked his lips. It looked like he had possibly never received dome that felt this good. His neck was already ruddy to begin with, but as he got more aroused it turned scarlet like a cooked cranberry.
“God-damn boy, I am gonna ride ya face like a buckin’ bronco,” he said with a deep, throaty chuckle. He yee-hawed and whooped, slapping his own thighs and making his meaty muscle tremble. He fed his dick down Rob’s throat, ignoring the resistance he felt. “Relax ya throat, boy. Relax it.” He rubbed Rob’s neck, caressing it gently.
Rob couldn’t breathe. He loved the taste of redneck cock, and he enjoyed watching Jacob plow his throat too. It was so hot he couldn’t resist pulling his own cock out and jacking off.
“Hey, what’s cum taste like?” Jacob asked with a guilty leer, like he wasn’t supposed to ask. He pulled away from Rob’s mouth so he could answer.
Rob took a deep, hoarse, gasping breath. He tried to go back to Jacob’s cock, but Jacob frowned and kept his head away by holding his forehead.
“Huh? What’s cum taste like?”
“Uh… salty, and uh… it’s… hard to describe.” Rob gulped. It was difficult to concentrate right now, with the scent of Jacob’s cock just in front of his nose. He wanted to go back to slurping on it again but Jacob held his head back.
“Is it gross?”
“No. Well, yeah, kinda, but I like it,” Rob said. He blushed.
“Huh. You embarrassed ‘bout it?” he asked. He threw his hands in the air. His cock bobbed, jutting out from his crotch. “You tell ya daddy you jerk off random dudes?”
“You’re not random. I chose you.”
“No offense or nothin’,” he said. He shrugged. “You don’t feel embarrassed swallowin’ cock? Like a girl?”
“I’m not embarrassed,” Rob said with a shrug. Rob’s voice was cut off by that cock sliding back in his throat.
“I just don’t see how this ain’t humiliatin’ for ya,” he said. “You swallowin’ dick. I pee outta there, man. Fuckin’ nasty. It ain’t even, y’know, I ain’t touchin’ ya dick, so it ain’t even like you gettin’ something outta this.”
Rob gurgled. He wanted to explain further, but his mouth was full of dick, and it was hard to explain the allure the male form had for him. Jacob had resumed plowing his face slowly and gently, just hard enough to make Rob sputter a little. Jacob’s sweaty balls slapped against Rob’s chin and rested there.
“Yee-haw!” He lifted his camo shirt over his head, though he didn’t take it off, he just bared his chest. He was thickly built, without a six-pack though his belly was flat. He was moderately hairy and tattooed. “God-damn, boy. You should be ashamed of this. You shouldn’t be makin’ some other man feel good. That ain’t how a real man should act.”
But he didn’t say that like he expected Rob to respond. He put his hand behind his head as though he didn’t like touching Rob, which let Rob use both hands and his mouth on Jacob’s shaft. Rob bore down on his cock until his nose pressed into Jacob’s hairy crotch. He sucked down every drop of precum.
“You can punch me,” Jacob said. He let go of Rob’s head. He got down on his knees across from Rob, so close that Rob could feel his breath condensing on his cheek. Jacob frowned. “Go’n, I got this theory that wusses can be saved. They just ain’t nevuh done nothin’ real manly, you know? You gotta flip that switch to be a real man. Don’t happen to wussies.”
“What?”
“You evuh punch a man?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“Really? A real man?”
“Yes…” Rob said. He sighed. “You really want me to punch you?”
“Yeah. I think it’ll help. I promise, if you do it and you don’t like it, you can go back to jerking me off.” Jacob paused and cocked his head to the side. “You better go back to it, I mean, even if you do like throwing a punch. Don’t blue-ball me, and you gonna have to pay me no matter what.” Jacob stood up straight and lifted Rob up at the same time, so they both stood in the tiny corner of the storage area.
“Fine, I’ll punch you if you want. But then you gotta start cornholing me in the ass,” Rob said. “I wanna feel your dick inside me.”
He scrunched up his nose. “Ew… Fine. You got a tight ass?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t wanna cornhole you if ya sloppy, boy,” Jacob said. He put his hands on his hips. “So go ahead. Punch me.”
Rob nodded. He knew an alpha male like Jacob would never start and then stop because his hole was too lose. That was fine to brag about but not something that any man like that would do. Rob wanted to impress Jacob, so he reared his fist back and punched as hard as he could.
His fist collided with Jacob’s face. Blood spurted from his nose. Jacob stumbled back and would have fallen to the ground except that he was already pinned up against one wall. He just gripped the wood behind himself and supported himself that way.
“Hell yeah, boy!” Jacob shouted. He beamed broadly and wiped a few drops of blood off his face.
Rob was glad he hadn’t embarrassed himself. He had rather hoped he could punch hard enough to knock Jacob down, but that was probably never realistic — Jacob outweighed him considerably, and was a lot tougher, that much was obvious.
“How’d that make ya feel, huh?” Jacob asked.
Rob shrugged. “Nothing really. You ready to ram me?”
He sighed. “Fine. Bend over. Bend over forwards, boy, don’t try and lay on ya back or nothin’, I don’t wanna see your face.”
Rob nodded. He got down on all fours — that was his preferred position anyway. It was perfectly submissive, he thought, bending over like a dog. Jacob’s callused hands gripped Rob’s ass and held on tight as he worked his dick in.
As soon as the tip slid in, Rob let out a moan of pleasure and pain. It hurt bad but that lasted only a few seconds. Once Jacob’s redneck cock hit his prostate, a powerful pang of pleasure rang out deep within Rob. He grunted.
“Ah, shit, you wasn’t kiddin’ ‘bout that tight ass. You should give lessons to my girl,” Jacob said. He relentlessly pounded his cock in, ignoring Rob’s resistance.
Rob moaned uncontrollably. Every movement Jacob made sent a new wave of pleasure through his body. Jacob moved a lot too, not just pivoting his hips but shifting his weight between his legs, clapping his hands together above Rob’s body and shaking his entire chest as he writhed.
Somebody whistled. It was a brief melody, just a few notes, but it sounded very deliberate, almost like a signal.
“Fuck, hey, remember what I said? Remember? This is Terrell. I’m gonna tell him you a snitch-“
That seemed like a bad plan. If Rob weren’t overwhelmed with desire and pressure in his asshole, he would have said so. But he couldn’t bring himself to speak, and in any case, he didn’t have enough time to come up with a better idea.
Terrell appeared right then. He was bopping along to a beat only he heard. When he turned the corner and saw Jacob cock-deep in Rob’s ass, he stopped moving for a moment as though he couldn’t comprehend what he was seeing.
“Take that shit, bitch!” Jacob said with a roar. “Ah, there you is, Terrell. This here is a snitch. My brother sent him-“
“What the fuck are you doin’, boi?!”
Jacob laughed. From Rob’s position with Jacob’s cock in his ass, he could sense that Jacob was uncomfortable bluffing like this, but he needed to puff up his image in front of Terrell. Terrell was a tubby duckydoo, with a big round face and long dreadlocks.
“I’m punishin’ this snitch,” Jacob said.
“What?”
Jacob guffawed. He slapped Rob’s cheeks hard, then punched him in the back. Rob howled in pain, which he exaggerated for effect. Jacob smiled. “Remember my brother in prison?”
“Yeah.”
“This snitch here tried to squeal on ‘im. So when he got out, my brother sent ‘im to me, so I can make ‘im squeal instead.” He paused and grabbed Rob by the hair. “You hear that, bitch? Huh? Squeal like a piggie.”
He drove his dick in so deep and so hard that Rob had trouble doing so. He opened his mouth to let out a delicate, gentle oinking sound, as his whole body undulated with the power of his imminent orgasm.
“Nah, louder, bitch! Huh? Lemme hear it!”
“Oink!” Rob squealed as loud as he could.
“Yeah…” Jacob groaned. He hefted his entire body up over Rob’s back and pressed down. He pinned Rob to the ground, keeping a tight hold on his hair. That upped the pressure and the pleasure emanating from deep in Rob’s asshole.
Terrell watched with wide-eyed amazement. He clutched his belly, and his dreadlocks trembled. “Damn, Jacob, I take back what I said ‘bout whiteboys. You know how to lay down the law.” He paused. “I can’t watch this shit. Jerry is lookin’ for you.”
“Tell Jerry to go fuck his mother.”
Terrell chuckled. “No,” he said. “I ain’t tellin’ him that, cuz you prolly gonna make him do it. Damn, rednecks is crazy.” He walked away, shaking his head. “I am nevuh gonna smoke a blunt there again. Gonna smell like whiteboy booty forevuh.”
Jacob scoffed and chuckled. He smiled. He pinned Rob down, moving his hips from side to side as he shifted his cock around inside Rob’s ass. Though Jacob didn’t notice it, Rob shot his load right then, spraying his wad all over the floor. He shuddered and clenched down on Jacob’s cock.
“Thanks, man,” Jacob said. “He was really impressed.”
“Uh-huh,” Rob said as his orgasm flowed through his veins.
He groaned right into Rob’s ear. “I’m gonna nut now, man, I’m gonna nut. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” It sounded like his orgasm was almost painful — or maybe just so stressful his voice was clipped and tense. He jabbed his dick all the way and moaned loudly, his hairy chest rumbling against Rob’s smooth back.
A hot wad of cum sprayed into him. There was something warm and sunny about it, a summery feeling to its texture, which seemed to fit with Jacob’s redneck look. His breathing was jagged and rough, moistly condensing on Rob’s ear. His muscles rippled.
“Damn, boy…”
“Oink! Oink! Oink!” Rob squealed like a piglet again without waiting for Jacob to demand it
That load of cum spurted into every corner of Rob’s body, its heat seeping into his flesh as Rob squealed. The sound was loud, and he could hear Terrell laughing from not too far away — he must have gone nearby to smoke that blunt, and could hear Rob’s oinking. It was one of the biggest loads Rob had ever taken, great big jets of it filling him up and dripping down between his thighs.
Jacob stayed there for what felt like forever. His cock slowly limpened inside of Rob, who moaned and squirmed. His fingers tightened into claws that dug at the grimy concrete floor beneath him.
“Ah, shit,” Jacob said with a chuckle and a long, slow sigh. He lifted his head up but kept his dick in Rob’s ass. “Hey, boy, I ain’t sayin’ I care on ‘ccount of I ain’t no sissy. I was just… Do I do that good?”
“Wha’?” Rob was too engrossed in his post-orgasmic bliss and the pain in his ass to think of an answer. He fumbled with his wallet to get out the money and pay Jacob.
“Do I do that good? Is my dick good? Like… if you was a girl, and I fucked you like that — in the pussy, not the ass — would that be good? Would you tell ya girlfriends I was good?”
“Uh… I don’t have a vagina, Jacob. I don’t really know-” Rob found it hard to concentrate with Jacob’s rapidly limpening dick in his ass.
“I know, I know, I just mean… Nevermind. What about the ass? Some girls like getting fucked in the ass, right? Is it the same? Like, if I’m good at plowing a man in the ass, does that mean I’d be good at fucking a girl in the ass?” When Rob didn’t immediately respond, Jacob pulled on his hair. “Huh? Pay attention, man, I’m talkin’ at ya.”
“Yeah. You do that good. You really… If a girl likes getting fucked in the ass, she’ll like you fucking her in the ass,” Rob said.
He nodded and sighed. “Okay. I guess that’s pretty good.” He pulled his dick out. Rob sighed grandly. Jacob looked at his ass-juiced cock like it was too gross to touch. “The only girls I know who like anal are sluts. They like anything.”
“Uh-huh. That’s normal. Some nice women like anal, but they probably only ever tell their boyfriends that. So the only women you find out about are the slutty ones. That’s what makes them sluts, after all,” Rob said. He sat up, dizzy and groggy.
“That makes sense.” Jacob nodded. He submitted to Rob getting some paper towels from a roll in storage and wiping Jacob’s dick clean. Jacob watched with intent interest as though there was going to be a test on it later.
The radio on Jacob’s belt flickered into life again. Jerry’s voice filled the air. Jacob. Where are you? I see a cart full of shit in Outdoor Supplies.
Jacob quickly pulled his pants up and smiled. “Jerry,” he said, “You’re not supposed to curse on the radio. My tender ears are in pain. It’s unprofessional and contrary to the All-Mart Statement of Purpose. That’s not a community-building way to speak, Jerry.”
Jacob… Get out here and do the Outdoor Supplies.
Jacob shrugged, as Rob headed for the exit. “Hey, go out the back, man. Terrell gonna be out there smoking his blunt. Act like you scared of me and you runnin’ away.”
“Okay. See ya,” Rob said as he headed out, but Jacob was already ignoring him. Jacob was on the radio needling his boss, while Rob headed out the back door.
He took a deep breath before fresh air — and the fragrant smell of weed — flooded his lungs. Rob managed to pretend to cry as he ran past Terrell and out into the night. Terrell laughed and catcalled after him. Rob didn’t need to pretend to walk bow-legged because his ass did hurt, but it felt good too, and he was still experiencing the aftereffects of his orgasm as he fled into the Nebraska night.
Rob grinned as he ran, revelling in the satisfaction he gained from that more rewarding experience than he thought possible at a second-rate All-Mart in the middle of the night. Jacob was right, he thought, he really did give excellent customer service.

Steel lost the thread of this metaphor.

The best way to fight addiction is to do it before it starts. Nibble it in the butt!

The at-risk programs was time-consuming for Steel and the others at Ebenezer Baptist. Steel enjoyed it though, spending time with the kiddies, shooting hoops and making music, that kinda thing, turn ’em off from gangsterism. Gotta set ’em on the right road, the road to Jesus, past the roadside attractions of virtue and honesty and forthrightery — no, not past them, they’s the destination — no, Jesus is the destination — or salvation! Jesus is the offramp that leads to the destination of salvation, and the signs pointing a nigga that way are the virtues, like virtue, or maybe… virtues is the offramp? Or the onramp? Steel lost the thread of this metaphor. How can virtue be a virtue? What does virtue even mean? It don’t make sense.
Anyway, he like to feel he’s making a difference, and this was a way to do it. The best way to fight addiction is to do it before it starts. Nibble it in the butt!

The young adults got a program that drew upon a federal grant for young men eighteen to twenty-four with adult criminal records but no violent convictions. That included Rico Salierez. He was a slim kitkat with dimples and all, he got a girlfriend who was pretty as a dumptruck, and he got her pregnant last year. Got an abortion. That was a whole thing Steel ain’t gonna get into right now, cuzza the shit, the Supreme Court, girlies got sensitivites, you seen that Ketanji lady? She fine for a old lawyer bitch, Steel would put it to her, he would, put it to her good. No abortion after neither. Maybe a little one. Steel got qualms about abortion.

Malcolm got rules about cussing during church functions, and bitch was a straight-up violation. Straight up like a gay cup! Nigga too! Nigga, please! Steel don’t keep his tongue that clean mosta the time, cuz the Bible don’t say nothing about cussing, but he don’t argue about it. Church rules is church rules. In prison, Steel said fuck and bitch and stab that fuckin’ bitch, and in church, he scrub his tongue-wungy like he just ate out a ugly female. Gotta apartmentalize ya dickskin, nigga! Anyway, Rico got to flapping about his hardon and about Steel being an old fuddy-duddy who prolly don’t got a puckymoo that even work no more, and Steel wanna prove to him the error of his ways.

Steel ain’t reminiscing about liquor, y’all. His lips stay dry. When Steel get tonguey, he be praying, and Jesus always comes around in the end. To have faith in strength is strength enough, nigga, cuz reality is always weaker. Steel heard that in a sermon or a theology lecture on youtube or something and don’t feel like googling, you google it. Doesn’t matter.

From Winston Steel & the White Man