prostitutes – Page 2 – Mansploitation

The Fat Trucker

Bart is visiting the legendary Ramwide Truck Stop when he stumbles across a thickbody trucker, who’s desperate for a little action. Bart loves big men, big-time, and he can’t wait to help out this Fat Trucker!

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Bart stapled a flyer on the bulletin board in front of the truck stop diner. He tried to look like he belonged, because he didn’t — he was no trucker, and he didn’t have permission to post on this bulletin board.
But it didn’t look like anyone regulated this particular bulletin board. Somebody had written, in pen on a blank scrap of paper, in scrawling block letters: call Ricky to ram in ass, nasty, gross, fat, loves it up the butt no I don’t yes he does especially if you are black he will love it yum yum that’s what he always says. So obviously this was not a strictly monitored bulletin board. Bart hadn’t asked for permission because he thought they — whoever was in charge — would probably say no.
The flyers that Bart put up were professionally produced, so they looked out of place here. They had a picture of a pretty thick woman and a phone number in big letters. Looking for plus-size female models for a clothing line. That was what Bart did as a side-hustle, he was a fashion photographer. He was always on the lookout for thick females. He thought this truck-stop would be a fine spot to search in.
Bart himself had no interest in women of any size. He liked his men as big as the women he photographed, or even bigger. So for him, this truck-stop had an even better attraction than the women — the men.
Truck-stops were full of hefty hunky dudes, precisely the kind that Bart adored. They were mostly, but almost all were willing to mess around with tiny twinks like Bart. Now that he had done his work, hanging up the flyer, he took a look around the truck-stop to scope out his possibilities.
There was a thick-ish dude over there who was kind of hot, but not hot enough to get Bart’s motor going. A couple of skinny weirdos at a picnic table, passing a joint around. Bart wandered towards the parking lot full of semis, some of them with idling engines, others cold and silent like steel skeletons.
A few women were around. Prostitutes probably. Some might have been willing to model for Bart, but he had long ago learned that approaching them never worked out well — hence the flyer. In person, they usually thought he was a pimp, despite his small stature and flamboyant personality.
“Hey, baby, whatchoo doin’ tonight? Huh? You wanna play a game?” asked a trucker, who glanced up at Bart as he walked past. The girl in skimpy clothes, with a tattoo of Roger Rabbit on her neck, grinned and batted her tired eyes.
She was too skinny to model for Bart, he thought idly. This truck-stop was loaded with lot lizards. That was going to make it hard for him to find a man.
He saw an appropriately hefty man behind a truck, getting sucked off by a middle-aged woman. Bart tried to sneak up to check him out. The man was thick and hairy, with a powerful body but plenty of padding overtop it. His side-fat jiggled as he moaned and threw his head back. The prostitute’s head was lost in the meat of his belly.
His dick glistened with spit and precum. Bart approached, making more noise than he had intended. The trucker glanced back at him and smirked. “You wanna join in, hoss?”
“I-“
“No way, that costs extra,” the woman said. She glared at Bart. “You gotta pay — I-” She cut herself off and looked Bart up and down. “You want in? Thirty bucks.”
Bart licked his lips. He came near the trucker. “Can I play a little with you? I’m not interested in the woman.”
“The woman?” She looked up at Bart with a sneer. “How dare you-?” Then the fat truck got his dick back in her mouth, and she shot mean eyes up at Bart but didn’t try to say anything else.
He kissed the man’s thick fleshy bicep, sucking up the sweat that had collected on his hairy arms. The man shrugged and resumed plowing the prostitute’s face. She glanced up at Bart as though to ask why he would do something like this without getting paid.
But Bart just shrugged and stroked the man’s plus-sized ass. He sucked the sheen of sweat off his belly too, and fully intended to keep on going when the man moaned and grunted. He shot a thick load with an intensely cottony smell into the woman’s mouth. Bart was disappointed. He licked the man’s asscheeks, but the trucker just ignored him and pulled his pants up when he was done. He paid the woman — who grabbed more money out of the man’s wallet and glared at him as though daring him to say anything — then he just walked away.
She glanced at Bart. “You’re nasty, you sick fuck,” she said. “At least I charge money.”
Bart shrugged. “I’m sorry, I’m having trouble hearing you over the sound of your bony body clanking like a sac of rusty rebar,” he said, raising his voice as though to be heard over the sac of rebar. He walked away, leaving her to stew and look for another client.
Way too many females here to have a chance, Bart thought. He frowned to himself. Maybe he should just move on. He needed to put flyers up in more places today, he had simply hoped he’d get lucky here before going anywhere else.
He walked among the maze of parked semis, in hopes of finding a desperate enough man. He did see a chunky trucker taking a piss, but he was done before Bart got close enough to watch or join in or even see how handsome he really was. The door to the trailer behind him opened up.
“You foul-ass stinkbug! Oh shit that was nasty! You are fucking disgusting! You smell like my grandfather’s shoe!” said a girl as she climbed out of the truck. She looked very young from behind, Bart thought, but her face was tired and weary, and she had a network of tattoos visible on her bare midriff. She shouted into the truck. “You had better pay me, or I’ll send Martin after ya-!”
“What do you think Martin’ll say if he knows you turned down a man?”
“He don’t want my pussy stinking like some fat-ass sonofabitch!” She took a few steps away on wobbly legs, then stopped to put her heels back on. She tottered unsteadily. “And by the way, guys with manboobs the size of a German shepherd shouldn’t call women ‘chunky’!”
“I meant it as a compliment!” The man bellowed, but she was already gone. He glanced over at Bart. He nodded and closed the door to his truck.
Bart’s heartrate rose. There was an ideal target.
The trucker was heavy, but not really obese: he was obviously strong, with plenty of manmeat. He wore a flannel shirt with the sleeves cut off, and his pants were around his ankles revealing threadbare boxers. He was hairy and his belly jutted out marvelously, not huge like Santa, but big and round and stout. His arms were powerful and meaty, his pecs fleshy and jigglesome when he moved or spoke or did anything really. He barely fit in the doorway, and he walked like his cock was as fat as the rest of him.
Bart knocked on the door. “Excuse me, sir?”
“Eh… hang on.” The trucker’s voice sounded tremulous. He was back in the sleeper, and he fidgeted with something. He frantically moved around back there. “I… That chick was my girlfriend, you know. I wasn’t… I ain’t pay her for nothin’ illegal, suh, just so you know!”
“That’s not — I’m not a cop!” Bart called out. He sighed. He often came across as a cop in places like this. That was because he was slim and spoke properly. He didn’t really fit in. “I swear! I’m not a cop.”
The trucker opened the door. “What do you want then?”
“I just wanted to see how horny you were,” Bart said. He blushed. “My name is Bart. I’d like you to ram me.”
“What?”
“I want you to ramrod me. Stick your dick in my ass. You know about ramrodding-?”
“Yeah. It’s what black guys do to white dudes in prison,” the trucker said.
“That’s… They don’t have a patent on it. You can ramrod me, it’s not illegal.”
“Still gross.”
Bart shrugged. “If you don’t wanna do it, you don’t have to… But I’ll offer you fifty bucks.”
“You serious? I ain’t into that trip. That’s some kinda nasty,” he said. “And it ain’t in the Bible.”
“Neither’s fuckin’ prostitutes.”
“She ain’t fuck me. And she weren’t no prostitute, that was my girlfriend,” the trucker said with a knowing grin. “Name’s Dabney. Dabney Cosgrove.”
“Hi Dabney.How ’bout I up the ante. I’ll offer you a hundred dollars to ram me?” Bart said. He snuck one of his hands up Dabney’s boxer shorts. Dabney stood in the driver’s side door of his semi, so he was much higher than Bart. Bart could peer under his boxers, and see a big shadowy dark spot he assumed was the man’s low-hanging cock and balls.
He slapped Bart’s hand away. “Now I know you a cop, cuz ain’t no pinkdick punks like a big hairy ass like me. I thought limp-wrists like you was is into prettyboys with long hair and skinny butts.”
“Why don’t you let me prove I’m not a cop?”
“How?”
“Turn around, bend over and let me kiss your asshole. Would an undercover cop kiss a fat redneck’s ass?”
Dabney thought about it for a long time, then he shrugged and nodded. He checked that no one could see before turning around. He pulled down his boxers, revealing a big ass that was ruddy and inflamed from sitting so much. He spread his cheeks, which were hairier than his unshaven cheeks. The hairs on his ass were matted to his skin with sweat.
Bart had to step onto the ledge leading into the driver’s side of the semi, but Dabney was already there, leaning over and jutting his bare ass out. That made it a delicate balancing act, and Bart struggled to get up there. When he did, he dove enthusiastically in and rammed his tongue right into the sweat-silkened hole of Dabney’s rotund ass.
He only left it there for a moment. Dabney yelped and laughed. He turned around and slapped his dick over Bart’s face, and Bart was glad to see it was as big as he thought it’d be. Some kind of fat men have small cocks, cuz their bellyfat subsumes it. Others have huge cocks around which the fat doesn’t grow in the same way. Bart, of course, preferred the latter, and he found he had a sixth sense for detecting which fat men had which kind.
Dabney’s belly hit Bart’s forehead, the hair scratching at his skin, and it softly jiggled around him. Bart’s hands ran up that maginificent body to Dabney’s fatty tits, which caused the massive pectoral muscles underneath to ripple.
“That’s nasty. You just hang out in truck stops lettin’ fat dudes ram you?”
Bart blushed. “You gonna judge me or you gonna make a hundred dollars?”
“I’m gonna do both.” Dabney moved out of the way to let him in. Bart didn’t wait, so he bumped into Dabney as the much larger man worked his way into the sleeper. Bart kissed those hairy cellulite-ridden asscheeks before Dabney plopped onto his bed.
It stank in here. That was why the prostitute had left. She had been willing to put up with Dabney having a belly, and she was willing to put up with him being hairy, and she was willing to put up with him having a big knobbly dick that was going to hurt, but she wasn’t willing to put up with getting rammed in a sleeper compartment filled with the scent of Dabney’s thickish sweat. It was a very strong aroma. Bart couldn’t blame her. He didn’t feel the same way, but he wasn’t surprised the woman did.
That fruity body-odor smell billowed forth into Bart’s nostrils, and it was strong enough to bring tears to his eyes. Dabney didn’t notice it. He thought she had been exaggerating. He’d be willing to put his boots and dirty clothes outside anyway, he thought, and she didn’t even let him try that before freaking out and stalking off.
This was just as good. Dabney sometimes rammed with the filthy whores who filled certain truck-stops. They were good for a lay, and they didn’t help the smell situation in the sleeper of his truck. Sometimes he rented a motel room to really go to town on a woman — and take a private shower — but that got expensive, and Dabney would rather sleep in his truck’s sleeper.
Bart was smooth and lean, yet he had a fantastically plump ass. He smelled so clean, so unlike any of the whores Dabney visited. Bart’s skin was pale as Dabney’s mother’s fine china, which she never used in case a celebrity came for supper, and he was unblemished from head to toe. Dabney was all blemishes. He got dry skin, too much hair and tufts of ingrown hair that got infected, bacne, something called folliculitis sometimes, Dabney had awful skin. Most of that wasn’t obvious cuz his body hair covered it up.
Dabney pulled his boxers down and let his dick flop out. It was soft, but had just a trace of hardness from the girl he had brought in here for a few minutes. She got him hard before storming away, and then Bart’s quickie rimjob had gotten his dick twitching once more.
So he was already fleshy and firming up when his dick slipped into Bart’s mouth, caressed by his soft lips. At first Dabney didn’t know how to take it — it was just like a woman’s mouth, and he even made little sucking sounds that came across as feminine somehow.
“Oh god… Shit, boy, get deep on it, get real deep on it… You like it nasty, huh?” Dabney said. He gripped Bart’s ears because he had always wanted to do that when getting a blowjob — no girl had ever let him — and he pulled on them to drag Bart’s head up and down. He was exhilarated at finally being able to do that.
Bart looked up to make eye contact with him. The smell of his body odor was intense down here. He had obviously not showered in some time. There was a truck-stop shower right here, but Dabney didn’t use those.
His dick quickly grew as hard as steel in Bart’s mouth. It was big enough to be a challenge to swallow, but it was a challenge Bart adored. He didn’t mind choking on it. He even forced himself to choke and gag as much as he could because that made Dabney moan.
Soon Dabney’s whole body jiggled, his belly rubbing over Bart’s face. That left a sheen of sweat that covered him, and it made that glorious smell stick to his nostrils. The sweat on Dabney’s bellyfat was sticky like spilled juice, and it coated Bart’s skin. He thought the smell would never go away, and he hoped he was right. Bart couldn’t help but pull off Dabney’s dick and went to lick and suck that belly. His tongue snaked into the fold of flesh right over his ribs, inside of which was funky unwashed skin that tasted of unadulterated manhood.
“C’mon, man, get me off,” Dabney whined. “Put ya lips back on it, that felt good. You go deep, damn!” His deep voice was resonant in the tiny sleeper. He kept pulled on Bart’s ears, but he didn’t force Bart to go back to his cock. He just kept trying. “C’mon, man, swallow it, swallow it, swallow it deep. You was so good at that. I wanna get back in ya throat.”
“Hmmm…. Lemme just suck on your titties some, and then I’ll play with your dick,” Bart said. He sucked on each of Dabney’s nipples. Dabney sighed and leaned back, allowing it even as he rolled his eyes and growled in frustration. “Your dick is so big… I wanna joust a little, okay?” He sat in front of Dabney on the mattress, looking tiny in comparison to Dabney’s cavernous belly. He could barely reach Dabney’s nipples, which he sucked on as he thwacked his cock against Dabney’s.
Dabney tried not to be self-conscious. He tried to ignore the fact that it was a dick itself — an actual man’s cock — on him. It was hot and hard. Was his dick that hard? Dabney thought it wasn’t, that his dick was always soft and jiggly in comparison to Bart’s iron-like cock.
But when he touched them both directly, he realized that wasn’t true. It was just weird to handle someone else’s cock, especially someone so skinny and small. Dabney grinned at the sight of his much larger dick pressing against Bart’s, which was nothing to be shameful of. Dabney’s dick approached ten inches though, while Bart’s was a relatively meager seven.
“I’m gonna put my ass on it now, okay?” Bart said, giggling at the sight of Dabney’s shocked look and plump chins jiggling. Bart stood the best he could, crouching to fit and struggling to move on the soft mattress. He turned around, baring his pale ass.
Dabney kissed each asscheek. He did it entirely by instinct, and it took him by shock. That wasn’t something he ever did before.
The feeling of Dabney’s lips on Bart’s smooth booty made Bart giggle and squeal as he lowered his ass towards Dabney’s crotch. Dabney was more aroused than ever. He had never kissed a woman’s asscheeks because he had never been with a woman who had such pert and perky, plump, perfectly poundable asscheeks: smooth, unblemished, hairless. Dabney slathered each cheek in kisses until his spit dripped down Bart’s thighs.
Then Bart sat on his crotch. He had to push on Dabney’s belly to get it out of the way, layers of flab weighing heavily upon him. He kneeled, facing Dabney despite the awkwardity of it. In this position, Bart had to spread his legs wide so he could take in the massiveness of Dabney’s torso. Bart hugged him close, so he could rub his whole body on Dabney’s thickness.
The other nice part about this position was that Bart could see the shocked and maybe frightened look on Dabney’s face.
“Goddamn, man, you’re really — shit, you wanna get rammed somethin’ serious, huh? Gonna get in ya guts, lemme in there,” Dabney said, a sheepish grin on his face.
Then he bit his lip and howled. Just the tip of his dick slipped in, and already it felt so good Dabney thought he might blow his wad. He chuffled back and forth, hands flailing and slapping Bart’s ass because he liked how it jiggled.
A sharp burst of pressure hit Bart, who winced and slowed down. That caused Dabney to grip his ass and massage it. He obviously wanted to pull Bart all the way onto that dick, to impale him completely, but Bart couldn’t take that just yet. He grimaced as he adjusted, leaning on that big plump belly for support.
“Will you ram… Oh god… Be on top…? ” Bart couldn’t speak because of the pressure in his ass. It hurt so good, and it made his voice waver and shake. Every moment it was inside him sent a new wave of sensations through Bart’s body, and each time Dabney pumped his hips, his cock jostled inside Bart and stimulated his prostate, while the motion made Dabney’s magnificent bellyfat shake like jello in an earthquake. Bart moaned and sucked up the sweat clinging to Dabney’s body.
He normally liked riding men on top, but with Dabney, he wanted to be below. He dropped low on Dabney’s cock, while Dabney arduously lifted his head. That kept Bart on his dick, mostly concealed by that roundish belly, and Dabney could pound away without having to look at Bart or be reminded he was not fucking a woman right now..
His bellyfat weighed Bart down, so Bart could barely breathe. He squirmed, his arms and legs flailing, toes curling, fingers tightening into claws that dug at the sleeper-compartment mattress. His ass was wet from his own arousal and from the rivers of precum that Dabney’s dick filled him up with.
Soon Dabney was plowing hard, with abandon, without thought for Bart’s comfort. Dabney had been craving that so hard he didn’t even know it. He’d only managed to get anal one time, and that had been a desultory affair.
This was the hottest thing he’d ever done. It was disgusting, filthy rutting, the way it was supposed to be. Dabney could ram hard like his bottom was just an object, a tight hole with a body attached to it, and no matter how hard Dabney rammed, no matter how much his greasy body slid and slipped over Bart’s formerly clean back, still Bart begged for more.
“Oh god, your dick is so nasty, ram me! Ram it in me! Ram it all the way in me!” Bart called out the best he could despite his inability to take a deep breath.
His prostate thrummed and sent a tsunami of pleasure to crash through him. Bart squealed like a piggie, making Dabney laugh even as the most intense orgasm of his life crashed into him.
Cum sprayed all over. It seemed to be everywhere in the sleeper-compartment. Dabney didn’t even know how that was possible, because he remained deep in Bart’s ass, exploring his innards with his cock, grinding into his guts as he spurted forth wad after creamy wad of cum.
It flowed into Bart, trickling through him. More fluids flew — Bart’s own cum, which Dabney had forgotten about — and spit from both men, because they drooled and Dabney spat instinctively onto the floor of his sleeper. He grunted and spit onto Bart’s ass too, adding more lubrication for his ramming, jamming and slamming.
He couldn’t even tell if his dick was still hard or not. He thought it was, but then when he pulled out and slipped back onto his pillow, leaning against the sleeper wall, his limp dick flopped against his thigh. It glistened with santorum, and Dabney grimaced at the sight of Bart’s gaping asshole.
He slipped one finger in. The sensation was creamy and thick, and Dabney wrinkled his nose. Dabney had never fingered anyone’s ass, but he couldn’t resist it. He rammed his finger in and out, pulling all of the cum out and smearing it over Bart’s asscheeks.
“Goddamn…” Dabney said. “You are one nasty slut.”
Bart turned around and laid his head in Dabney’s lap, letting that hairy belly flop over his face. “Same to you.”
“Don’t you forget to pay me,” Dabney said with a threatening growl.
Bart struggled to reach his pants, then finally got his wallet out. He handed over the cash.
“You come to this truck-stop a lot?”
“No,” Bart said, “Sorry, baby.” He kissed Dabney’s belly and sucked up some of the grease that had collected there. Then Bart sighed and leaned back. He cleaned off his ass, put his clothes back on and smiled at Dabney. “I don’t usually come to the same place twice. There’s always guys around though. You should give one a try.”
“I like girls.”
“Well, then do that first,” Bart said. He climbed out of the semi. “But if you get rejected again, remember you have… other options.” He smiled and waved as Dabney shut the door. The stink and humid heat from the sleeper visibly wafted out from the truck door.
Bart whistled and walked away. He had enjoyed this truck-stop mightily, and he was already planning on which one to go to next, for another curvy, raunchy trucker-stud.

The Baller

Avery is at a grimy basketball court in downtown Baltimore when he has a chance to swing on some alpha male ebony meat. He knows he’s gotta take his shot while he has a chance, and he lands the handsome prettyboy Rakhim! Can Avery please his newest alpha? Can Rakhim perform under pressure?

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“Pass it up, nigga!”
“You dribble like a retard, man, send it over here. You know you won’t know what to do wit’ it.”
Avery sat on the ground near the basketball hoop. He had a basketball with him. He didn’t like his basketball because it was clean. He had just bought it at All-Mart a few minutes ago. It hadn’t occurred him to use it first. It was very obviously brand-new, and it made him stand out as an outsider here.
“Take that shot, Rakhim! Take the shot! Take-“
“Ah, nigga!”
Rakhim was one of the guys playing basketball. He was younger than the others — he had just turned eighteen a few days ago. The rest of the men playing were at least in their late twenties, some well into their forties.
Avery tried not to feel too self-conscious. He was in a public court in one of the worst ghettos of inner-city Baltimore. He stood out because he was the only white person here — what was even weirder was that he was, by far, the lightest-skinned person here. There wasn’t even a single light-skinned black person anywhere at the court. He also stood out because he was watching but not from the sidelines. He was there at the front of the court, behind the basket, so he was almost knocked over a few times as they played.
“Yo, whiteman, bounce it up.”
A ball landed near Avery. His heart skipped a beat as he picked it up and bounced it back to Rakhim. He was young and broad-shouldered, with tight, taut muscles that were dappled in sweat. He was on the “skins” team, so he was shirtless — Avery had watched him deliberately get himself on the skins team, presumably because he wanted to show off in front of the girls who chatted on the sidelines. None of the girls appeared to be paying much attention, but Rakhim smiled at them and made sure they got lots of views of his six-pack abs and his deep dimples.
As confident as Rakhim was in front of the girls, he showed less confidence in front of the old heads he played with. Rakhim was smaller than any of them, and he was easily the most handsome, so they all treated him like a prettyboy. He wasn’t scarred or heavily tattooed, and he had a smooth, unblemished face.
“Watch this dunk, nigga!” Rakhim shouted. He was much too short to be dunking, wasn’t he? Avery wasn’t a basketball expert, but he didn’t think someone like Rakhim had any chance of making it.
Sure enough, Rakhim slammed the ball onto the rim but didn’t make it in the basket. He landed on the ground and groaned as the other players all burst into whoops and hollers. The girls stopped chatting and watched, giggling while Rakhim stood, stony-faced, grimaces flashing over his eyes. He tried to smile good-naturedly.
“You must be this tall to dunk-!”
“That is why you got fired from Darling Donuts, nigga!”
“Yo, Rakhim, you gonna dunk ‘bout two minutes after that whiteman over there.”
They all laughed. Avery blushed, but he didn’t respond. He grabbed the basketball he had brought with him, lifted it over his head and licked the underside of it. He made sure it looked like he was licking a testicle.
All of the basketball players were quiet for a moment. The girls watching from the sidelines laughed — but they were confused, not recognizing the ball-slurping for what it was. Then the basketball players chuckled dryly and resumed the game. There was some faint whispering and casual glances in Avery’s direction, but no one spoke to him.
That was fine with Avery. He knew how to do this.
It was one of the middle-aged guys that came to talk to Avery. He was probably the oldest one here, with a lanky body covered with gray-tinged chest hair. He had a gravelly voice like he gargled with nails, so low and spine-tingling that Avery struggled to understand his words.
“Yo, wuzzup? Whatchoo want, whiteman?”
Avery giggled as girlishly as he could manage. “I just wanted to jerk some dick. Do you know anyone with a dick?”
He glowered. He spat on the ground. “You payin’?”
“I’ll pay you and him five hundred dollars if I get to jerk off Rakhim over there,” he said.
The man chuckled. “So you go’n pay me? For his dick? He my nephew, you know. He twenty-two, but he my nephew.”
“I’ll pay him too.” Avery smiled. “Or if you’d rather, I’ll pay a thousand dollars to the whole lot of you. All ten of you. Hundred bucks each.”
He thought for a moment. “Nah. You pay me. The whole amount, thousand dollars. Don’t tell Rakhim you payin’.” He paused, thought for a moment and rolled his eyes. “Nevuhmind, no. His daddy’s my brothah. You pay him the whole thousand dollars.” He sighed again like he really didn’t want to do that. “His daddy’s doin’ time. I gotta do what’s right… Fine, you pay him a thousand dollars. But don’t tell him till it’s done. I go’n mess wit’ him.”
The game seemed to have paused. The middle-aged man — Reg— jogged back off to the other older players. They spoke in hushed tones. It sounded like they had sent Reg to see what Avery wanted. They all laughed, then hushed each other.
Rakhim shot baskets lazily. He glanced back at the others, and he made eye contact with Avery then looked away.
“Alright, you shitheads got the ball,” Reg said, and the huddle at the far end of the court broke up.
The game resumed. Avery watched, slowly licking the basketball in front of his face. He heard some of the girls mutter catty insults about him, but Avery didn’t mind. He serviced a lot of alpha men, which tended to piss off females. He knew that. It was normal. He could handle the bitches.
“You ain’t nevuh got a dunk in, Short Stuff,” Reg said to Rakhim. Rakhim sucked on his teeth and scowled like he hated that nickname.
“Rakhim’s the only one here who ain’t nevuh one time dunk.”
“He can’t do it, nigga, no one that short can dunk. He shorter than Spud Webb.”
“I ain’t!” Rakhim yelled. “Nah! I’m five nine, nigga! I’m taller than Spud Webb! All y’all fuckers shut yo’ mouths! Spudd Webb was five seven. I can dunk any time I want, nigga.”
They laughed. Even some of the girls watching laughed, and Avery chuckled. Rakhim grabbed the ball from one of the other players. “I got two inches on Spud Webb!” Rakhim shouted, even though he knew it made him look even more defensive — he just couldn’t help himself. Rakhim grabbed his cock, its massive shaft momentarily outlined by his sweaty basketball shorts. Rakhim laughed cockily. “I got more than two inches on ‘im, man, I swear to God!” He pumped his biceps.
“How you know how big Spud Webb’s dick is?”
“Yo, are you sayin’ you jerked off Spud Webb?”
Rakhim shouted, “Y’all can suck the sweat off my balls! Fuck you! I can dunk! I’ll take you all on, motherfuckers!” He paced in a circle as though he was going to challenge someone to a fight but couldn’t decide who. His fuming just made the others laugh more.
The men laughed and clutched each other’s half-naked bodies as they watched. Five of them wore sleeveless shirts, and four (plus Rakhim) were shirtless, but they all pawed at each other’s sweaty muscles while Rakhim shouted. They laughed as though it was the funniest thing they had ever seen.
“Nah, nah,” Reg’s deep voice cut through Rakhim’s yelling, and he had such gravity and authority in his tone that everyone fell silent immediately. Even Avery stopped laughing. Reg’s chest rumbled. “Nah. Nah, nigga. None of us gonna slurp the sweat off ya balls.”
“Damn right.”
“You still the little’un, Rakhim. And you only just turned eighteen.”
“I is twenty-two, nigga, fuck you. I can dunk. You ain’t gotta show me disrespec’,” Rakhim said. He sucked on his lip.
Reg chuckled and placed one hand on his shoulder. “Look, young pup, you wanna show us what you got? Go for it. Let’s make a bet. You get three dunks, nigga. If you make one of ‘em, you win, and Slim Jay here gonna set you up wit’ one of his fine-ass hos.”
Slim Jay was one of the other players, on the Shirts team. He wasn’t dressed like a pimp now, but he was clean and had brand-new sneakers and about fifteen trashy-looking women cheering him on. Slim Jay was the only one with his own cheering section. Slim Jay pointed towards the girls cheering him. “You can pick which one you want, man.”
“Sharlene. I want Sharlene.”
There was a moment of silence, and the men all laughed. Rakhim’s face was tight and pinched, and he bit his lip.
“You in love wit’ a whore, nigga?”
“You gonna eat that bitch’s cummy, flappy pussy?”
“No! She hot! She got ass all over, nigga, and I heard she suck dick good. That’s all! I don’t love her, no way,” Rakhim said. He sighed because none of the men could hear him over their own taunting. He crossed his arms over his bare chest. “Anyway, whatever, fuck you, Slim Jay. I could get her anytime I want. I could get a freebie. Girls love my meat, nigga. She be beggin’ for it if-“
“Nah.” Slim Jay said. He got up real close, and laughter stopped. His face was less than an inch from Rakhim’s. Since he was taller than Rakhim, he had to stoop over so his eyes lined up. “Nah, Rakhim. You ain’t gonna do that. She my girl. I love her. She know that. Ain’t nothin’ you do gonna change that. She don’t do freebies. She love me too much to betray me like that.”
After a long pause, Slim Jay kissed Rakhim on the lips. It was a momentary, dry, chaste kiss that ended as soon as Rakhim pushed him away. Despite it lasting only a half a second, the kiss made Rakhim howl and wipe his lips off as though he had just kissed battery acid. The other men laughed and clutched each other for support once more.
“Ya got a new boyfriend, Rakhim? You gonna turn tricks for Slim Jay?!”
Slim Jay smiled as they all hooted at Rakhim, who switched his hostile glares from Slim Jay, to the others, to the girls who shouted for more from the sidelines. But Slim Jay was already jogging away, to Avery. He wangled his dick in his jeans and smiled at Avery. “Yo, man. Gimme ten bucks for kissin’ Rakhim. I know you got off on that.”
“Uh…” Avery wasn’t expecting that. He pulled out a twenty dollar bill from his pocket, as he had no ten. “I, uh-“
Slim Jay took the twenty. “Good. The other ten bucks is you payin’ me to watch my ass as I walk away.” He laughed and shook his plump cheeks as he went back to the cluster of older men. Rakhim dribbled by himself in front of the basket, eyeing Avery suspiciously. It looked like Rakhim wanted to practice dunking but couldn’t do so right now without looking weak.
“You wanna do this, nigga?” Reg said to Rakhim. “If you can make just one dunk, you get to fuck wit’ Sharlene. If you can’t make a dunk, you gotta stop talkin’ trash ‘bout yo’ skills… and you gotta get whiteman over there to slurp the sweat off yo’ balls. And you gotta ram him.” Reg crossed his arms over his chest. The other men did the same, presenting a united front.
Rakhim scoffed. “What? Fine, whatever.” Then, like the details hadn’t really sunk in just yet, he said, “Wait, what? What’d you say? I gotta…”
“You scared?”
“Yo’ daddy’s is a booty bandit behind bars, you know that, right?”
“Shut up! My pops ain’t a booty snatcher, nah! Fuck you, man.” Reggie scowled and stamped his feet.
Reg rolled his eyes. “So whatchoo think? Can you do it? Can you dunk wit’ yo’ tiny ass?”
“Nigguh! Ah…” Rakhim paced again. He was furious that his father’s affairs were being aired in public. He screamed at Reg, “I know you lyin’! My pops ain’t no bum-tickler!” That made Reg laugh some more, and Rakhim took a deep breath through slitted teeth. “You don’t know jack-shit, old nigga. You don’t know nothin’. My pops don’t act like that. He ain’t fuckin’ around on that ramrod trip. Nope. No way.”
Reg covered his face as he tried to look serious. “Sure, nigga. Right. I know he introduced you. Ramon, right? His name was Ramon? You should respect him, he’s yo’ stepmama.”
“No he ain’t!”
“Alright, Rakhim, you wanna do it? Huh? You takin’ the bet? Quit makin’ a fuckin’ scene and do it. Or don’t, if you don’t think you can dunk…”
Rakhim flared his nostrils and nodded. “Hell yeah, ‘course I can do it. I can dunk, nigga. I can get all three, I bet. I can dunk, no problem. Three dunks in a row.”
“Let’s see it then…” Reg said with a wry grin. He and the other men lined up like they were watching a free throw. They clapped and hooted. The girls watching from the sidelines did the same thing.
Rakhim went back a few yards so he could run up to the basket. He dribbled a couple times. He shook his short braids out of his eyes and ran his fingers over his scalp. His tight pectoral muscles flexed and rippled.
Then he ran for it. He dribbled down the court, between the rows of clapping men and leapt at the hoop. Since Avery was there by the basket, he got a good look at Rakhim’s cock pressed against the fabric of his shorts.
And he missed. Rakhim whiffed completely. He barely touched the basket at all and didn’t even get the ball near the rim.
Laughter exploded from the other men. Rakhim roared and screamed profanities. His eyes bugged out. Some of the girls called out supportive words, which only seemed to make Rakhim angrier.
He raced back to try again before anyone could even tell him to hurry up. He ran faster, not even really dribbling anymore — he dribbled a bit, but if this was a real game, he’d have been called out for traveling.
He got closer, but this time he merely touched the rim with the ball. There was a metallic clang, but no basket.
Again, the audience all erupted in clapping. Avery joined in, shouting encouragement even though he wanted Rakhim to lose more than anything. Catcalls and hoots came from the other men, while the girls giggled among themselves.
Rakhim paused for a long time before his third try. He hushed the crowd, which made the other players laugh harder before Reg told them all to be quiet.
“Nah, let him concentrate, man. We gotta give him a chance. Let him try,” Reg said until they all fell silent. Slim Jay even made his hos shut up.
Rakhim took a deep breath and ran forward for his last try. It was, once again, a miss. He got it on the rim and it almost went in but bounced right off.
No dunk.
Rakhim lowered his head and closed his eyes. He frowned and tightened his hands into fists as the other players alternated between teasing and sarcastic words of support.
“You suck, nigga!”
“Short Stuff! Short Stuff!”
“You tryin’, nigga, you get a medal for tryin’. You got spunk, man. You got gumption.”
“Gumption! Short Stuff full of gumption! And spunk!”
“Spud Webb’s spunk…”
“Fuck you! Fuck you!” Rakhim screamed. He threw the basketball away as hard as he could. It sailed over the fence and bounced into the road outside the court. A few of the girls booed.
“Ah, don’t be a shit, Rakhim,” Reg said. “Jesus Christ, you such a bitch sometimes.”
“Say that to my face, Uncle Reg!”
“I just did say it to yo’ face, motherfucker! Open yo’ ears!” Reg laughed and mimed plucking something from Rakhim’s ear. Rakhim bristled and rubbed his ear as though he thought there was something in there. Reg clasped Rakhim on the shoulder and squeezed. “Chill the fuck out, nigga.”
“We just givin’ ya shit, man. You ain’t gotta throw the ball away. That’s a punk move.”
“If we was in lockup, nigga, I’d stab yo’ ass for that. I’d stab ya in the ass, and then, once I blew my nut inside ya, I’d stab you wit’ a shiv.”
They all laughed at Rakhim’s heavy breathing. Rakhim’s eyes were narrowed to slits. He looked so furious he might explode.
“Yo, you gonna do what you promised?” Reg asked. “Huh? You gonna back out like a loser?”
“Nah. Nah. No.” Rakhim bristled. His anger broke, and he glanced back at Avery. He took a deep breath, rolled his eyes and forced a smile on his face. “Whatever. Fine. Let him suck the sweat off my balls. Fuckin’ bitch. I ain’t, you know… I ain’t some squeamish nigga, you know. I don’t fuck around on the downlow, but I could. I could. I could. I just got females, y’know. I ain’t a bitch who can’t get no pussy. I ram a male, sure, I ram a male, you know… I would ram a male, if I needed to. Sure. No problem, nigga. If we was in prison, I’d-a done took whiteman back there to be my bitch. He’d already be doin’ my laundry, you know, hand-washin’ my drawers. I be eatin’ that bitch’s fruit cup from day one.”
“Is ‘fruit cup’ how young’uns say ‘asshole’ now?”
“I do it, no problem.” Rakhim shrugged and sucked on his teeth. Then he shrugged again, more aggressively. “Sure. Where? I ain’t invitin’ no man into my mama’s house.”
“Right here, nigga. We do it how yo’ daddy make love to his boyfriend, wit’ all his boys blocking the view from the screws,” Reg said. “Get in a circle, niggas.”
Before Avery even realized it was going to happen right here — there was a public bathroom in the courts, so that’s where Avery assumed they were going — the nine players had come to him and formed a circle. Avery leaned against the pole supporting the basketball hoop. He had his own basketball in hand, but he dropped it to the ground and held it in place with one foot.
With nine very large men in a tight circle, flesh-on-flesh, there was no way to see in from outside. Even if you got up real close and tried to look through their legs, all you’d see was low-hanging basketball shorts. You’d have to get all the way down on your belly to see anything, and even then you’d only be able to tell that Avery was on his knees.
Rakhim stood in the center of the circle. His eyes closed, hands on his waist, his pert chest muscles rose and fell as he breathed heavily. He gulped. He tried to put on a tough-nigga face. “Alright, man, get to it. I got some sweaty-ass balls right now-“
Someone pulled down Rakhim’s shorts and his drawers, laughing when it made Rakhim bristle. He had a nice thick cock dangling between his legs, and heavy balls with sweat dripping off his kinky black hairs.
Avery wanted to get started right away before Rakhim decided to drop out. He dove his head between his legs and let both balls plop into his mouth. He gurgled moistly, making as much noise as he could because it made Rakhim bite his lip with embarrassment while the others clapped and cheered.
Rakhim shuddered. He had never had his balls licked before, not really — he’d had girls lick his sac a bit, but they were never willing to suck on his balls. He was ticklish, which he thought would make him look weak so he tried to avoid reacting. But the more he resisted, the more Avery teased his taint with his tongue, making Rakhim giggle like a schoolboy.
“Quit playin’, quit playin’…” Rakhim muttered.
Avery suckled all the sweaty balljuice off his body. He even got way down deep between Rakhim’s legs and slurped like he was trying to suck his taint right off. Rakhim was ungodly funky right now, with fresh sweat dripping in rivers down Avery’s throat — Rakhim was sweaty because he was playing basketball on a humid summer afternoon and because he was nervous about showing off his cock in front of a bunch of old heads.
But he had nothing to be ashamed of. Not only was his cock plenty big, but it got hard right away — almost too quickly, Rakhim thought, hoping no one noticed that he got an erection easily, as though he was with a girl.
“Throat him down, Rakhim!”
His plump cocktip pushed into Avery’s throat. Avery deep-throated him right away, in one smooth motion, prompting the other men to clap again. Rakhim shuddered and closed his eyes. He leaned back against the pole holding up the basketball hoop.
“Course, I’ll throat him down, man,” Rakhim said. His voice sounded a lot less confident than his words suggested, which made the other men chuckle. Rakhim snorted. He took a deep breath and grabbed Avery by the head.
And then he let go and laughed. His laughter was tremulous and anxious.
Rakhim had trouble focusing. He tried again, touching Avery’s scalp, but when he felt Avery’s straight, short, man’s haircut, he laughed nervously again. He pulled his fingers back.
“You scared, Rakhim?” One of the older men poked Rakhim in his bare ass with one finger, making Rakhim buck and smack his hand away.
“Nah, man, this, uh… This man’s just nasty, that’s all,” Rakhim said. “Whatever. I can ram his throat. I ram hard, you know it. I can make him gag.” He closed his eyes and tried again. He grabbed Avery by the scalp, so tightly it hurt. But Avery didn’t mind, he just swallowed Rakhim down to the root, and he didn’t gag even when his throat cried out for it — Avery had been doing this long enough he could usually suppress his gag reflex. Avery’s hands reached up to tease Rakhim’s nipples, which made his pecs ripple.
“He ain’t gaggin’, Rakhim. Maybe yo’ dick ain’t big enough.”
“You got another, bigger dick somewhere? Whip it out, nigga.”
“He… He prolly slurp too many dicks to gag. Ain’t that right, man?” Rakhim asked. He pulled out and lightly slapped Avery on the cheek. “Huh? Is that why you don’t gag?”
“Yes,” Avery said, the first thing he had said to Rakhim all day.
“I bet my dick tastes like pussyjuice, don’t it? I was fuckin’ a female earlier. I was dick-deep in her, man.” He beamed proudly, and glanced behind himself to see if the others were impressed. They were not.
“I don’t taste pussyjuice, sorry,” Avery said. “Your dick tastes really good though-“
“You don’t know what real pussy tastes like, whiteman,” Rakhim said. He rubbed his hard cock over Avery’s face, smearing precum over him. “That’s all. I was fuckin’ a female, I swear. Right before I came here. I busted all up in her.”
“You ain’t fuck her in the ass?”
“Nah. Nah. Not her,” Rakhim said. “Not this morning. I do fuck bitches in the ass, man. No problem.”
Avery smiled. “Are you ready to ram me in the ass?”
“Hell yeah he is, boy! He gonna get up in there!”
“Destroy him, Rakhim!”
“Do yo’ daddy proud and wreck his ass!”
Avery turned around and bent over. He stuck his ass up high, too high for Rakhim to ram him in it. Rakhim had a beaming, prideful smile on his face until he saw Avery’s tight asshole twinkling in front of his face. Rakhim looked away.
“You scared?”
“Ain’t you evuh been locked up, Rakhim? This yo’ first time?”
Rakhim scoffed. “Course it’s my first time, nigga. I ain’t a booty bandit or nothin’. I ain’t gone inside. Nope. I said that before, nigga. I don’t mess around on the downlow,” he said.
“So this ain’t downlow? We can tell everyone?”
“No!”
“I’m tellin’ yo’ daddy,” Reg said with a grin. “I’m gonna call him right now. You gonna get in there?” Reg fished out his cell phone from his shorts pocket. He dialed a number. “No one prolly gonna answer, on ‘ccount of it’s a smuggled cell phone. They keep it turned off. They gonna call me back if yo’ daddy’s available.”
“You ain’t gotta tell my pops, Uncle Reg! Come on! Don’t tell him!”
“Why not?”
Rakhim’s mouth was agape, and he mumbled like he wanted to come up with a reason but couldn’t think of any. He just thought and stood there with his erect cock resting on the surface of Avery’s ass.
Avery got bored with waiting. He reached behind himself and grabbed Rakhim’s dick. His fingers shocked Rakhim out of his reverie, and Rakhim slapped his hands away.
“Nah! Don’t tell him, Uncle Reg! Quit playin’! Come on, nigga…” He paused. He grabbed Avery’s hand. “Get yo’ hand back here again, whiteman. You guide my dick in.” He put Avery’s hand right back where it had been before he smacked it away.
“Get in there, Rakhim!”
Rakhim took a deep breath and pushed his cock in. He gasped and gagged when it finally went in. He closed his eyes, and then he covered them with one tattooed forearm. His breathing was short and shallow as though he was on the verge of tears.
“You evuh ram a male in the ass?! Huh? Fo’ real?”
“No, man! I said that! I ain’t nevuh do it. I get pussy. I get females,” Rakhim said with a roar. He pounded on his chest muscles. “I get females beggin’ for my meat, you don’t even know!” The more he bragged, the more the others cackled and jeered at him. They kept squeezing his muscles, pretending to be girls overwhelmed with desire.
“Ooh, Rakhim, you turn me on so much, will you lick my butthole?!”
“Nothing turns me on more than watching niggas fail to dunk, Rakhim, that’s my kink. Come here and titty-fuck me!”
“If I threw a ball at you, Rakhim, could you not catch it? That makes my pussy so wet. I’m a fumble-holic, nigga.”
“Ooh, nigga, could you miss an easy lay-up while you fuck me, Rakhim? That’d be so hot.”
Someone gave Rakhim the ball that Avery had brought to the court. Rakhim scowled and ignored them, but a chant soon erupted. He held the ball.
“Miss it! Miss it! Miss it! Miss it! Miss it! Miss it! Miss it! Miss it! Miss it! Miss it! Miss it! Miss it! Miss it! Miss it! Miss it! Miss it! Miss it! Miss it! Miss it! Miss it! Miss it!”
Finally Rakhim screamed in rage — he barely even paid attention to his cock sliding in and out of Avery’s ass right now — and threw the ball. He was behind the basket, so he had to throw it high to get it over the backboard.
The ball whiffed completely. It didn’t even touch the net. It bounced away on the ground, and the men erupted in cheers.
“That was so hot!”
“If you plow hard enough, Rakhim, you might grow some balls. Then you’d be a real boy, just like yo’ fairy godmother promised.”
“Fuck you!” Rakhim screamed and threw a punch, but with his dick in Avery’s ass, it was a useless gesture. He just flailed his fist in the direction of one the men. They all laughed and clapped. Rakhim shouted justifications — mainly claiming that Avery’s movement had distracted him — but no one could hear him over the sound of the others razzing him.
Rakhim seemed to realize that the only way out of this was to just finish up. The more he responded, the more the others teased him. He bit his lip, gritted his teeth and grabbed Avery by the cheeks to ram him harder. Then he realized he was touching a white man’s ass, and he let go with a pained grimace.
A cell phone rang. Everyone laughed, except Rakhim, who moaned, until Reg hushed them all and answered the phone. Reg serioused up. “Yo, nigga. Yo, I know you gotta pay for this, don’t worry, I put some money in yo’ commissary — nah, it ain’t ‘bout none of that, relax. It’s a joke,” Avery said. “Yo’ son is here gettin’ his cherry popped on the court.”
“I ain’t a virgin, pops! Shut up, Uncle Reg! Nah, that ain’t what’s happenin’! Nah! Nah!” Rakhim grabbed for the phone, but without pulling away from Avery’s ass. His cock throbbed and sent shivers of pleasure through Avery’s body. Rakhim flailed uselessly towards the phone in his uncle’s hands. Some of the other men slapped his hands down.
“Shut up, Rakhim.”
“Yeah, there’s some white man hanging out here. We set up a wager, and yo’ boy ain’t dunk one time — yeah, I know, he still short, he do think he can dunk-“
“I can dunk, nigga! My pops seen me dunk! He saw it!”
Reg was quiet for a moment. “He say you ain’t nevuh dunk on no regulation basket.”
“It was reg’lation, man! It was just as high as this one!” Rakhim pointed to the basket he had missed. “I can do it. I swear to God, I can do it.”
“You ain’t gotta swear to God to prove it, nigga. All you gotta do is do it.”
“Yeah, so he rammin’ that man. He deep in his ass right now. I think he might be in love.”
“Nuh-uh! Fuck you, Uncle Reg! Say that to my face! Come on!” Rakhim shouted. He seemed to have forgotten his dick was in Avery’s ass, and he pushed towards his uncle Reg. Avery squirmed and held back squeals, as the thick shaft in his guts sent paroxyms of pleasure through his body.
“He ain’t nevuh get no female, so this is sorta practice, you know. He learnin’ how to use his dick for the first time.” Reg paused and laughed at whatever Rakhim’s father said. Reg cleared his throat. “Hey, so you know that boy? What’s his name, Ramon? Yeah. He yo’ cell wife or what?” He paused, then said, “Ha! Tol’ you, nigga.” He put his phone on speaker. The sound of a crowded prison filled the air, macho grunting and a whistle in the distant background. “Go’n, say that again.”
A deep, gravelly voice intoned, “Ramon’s my boy. He’s my cell wife. I ram him all the damn time, nigga, you know that.”
“Nah! Tell ‘em the truth, Pops!” Rakhim shouted. “Fuck you all!”
They all laughed hard for a long time. Avery found it difficult to follow all this, because he jacked himself off while Rakhim rammed his ass. Rakhim’s cock was rock-hard even as he got embarrassed, and it tickled Avery’s prostate with every thrust of his hips.
Soon Avery shot his own load onto the ground. No one noticed because they were focused on Rakhim, who took the phone from Reg and spoke into it — it was off speakerphone now.
Rakhim’s voice went from macho and braggy to calm and respectful. “Hey, Pops. Uh-huh. Yeah. I’m doin’ it! Uncle Reg’s being a prick, nigga. I’m- Uh-huh. I know. Yeah. Yeah. Yes, sir,” Rakhim said. His voice was weak now, like he didn’t enjoy showing respect in front of others. He looked down at his cock, still pulsating in Avery’s ass. He stopped moving it, but Avery kept sliding back and forth, up and down on the shaft. “Yeah, I’m rammin’ him. Just… Pops… Come on, man… Yes, sir. I’m… Yeah, I can do it. I won’t. I won’t. I won’t! Shut up, man, I said I won’t! Why you gotta have a cell wife?! Tell him he gotta wear makeup! I got niggas in there, man, they tellin’ e’rybody — Mom don’t know! Mom don’t know ‘bout that shit! She don’t know nothin’- Nah, pops! Nah! Nah, nigga!” He paused and sighed. He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, sir, I don’t say the n-word that much, Uncle Reg got me worked up,” he whispered. Then he sighed again and gritted his teeth. An involuntary surge of sensations ran through his body, making his muscles all flex as his hips gyrated, forcing his cock in and outta Avery’s ass. “Yes, sir. Sorry. Yeah. Okay. Yeah. Yes, I’m going to church!”
“No he ain’t!”
“I ain’t seed him at church!” Reg shouted at the phone.
“I am going to church! I missed one week! Just one!” He paused. “I swear to God, Pops, just make him yo’ bitch. I don’t wanna hear that shit. Nah. Nah! He ain’t — Pops! Man, don’t say that! Don’t say that! If he can be yo’ cell wife, he can be yo’ bitch! Make him a bitch! Pimp him out! Fuck you then! No! No! Don’t-! Don’t tell her! Man… I’m sorry, Pops, just chill out. Don’t tell Mom. I ain’t mean it. I just… I got respec’ for you, Pops. I was just mad. Don’t call him yo’ cell wife.” He sighed again. “Yeah, fine. Okay. Yes, sir. I’ll… Yes, I’ll meet Ramon next month in visitation. Fine. I’ll be nice. Yes, sir. Don’t tell Mom.” He hung up the phone and handed it back to Reg. “He said he treats Ramon like a bitch. He just calls him a wife cuzza prison rules or some shit. Don’t mean nothing.”
“Yeah, right.”
“Okay, Rakhim,” Reg said with a snorting laugh. “You gonna cum or you gonna fall in love over there?”
“He gonna fall in love like his daddy did.” Rakhim looked down like he didn’t understand why his dick was in Avery’s ass, throbbing, sending spasms of ecstasy through Avery’s tense body. Avery groaned and moaned into the asphalt of the Bullmass Park court.
“He ain’t in love! It ain’t real love anyway, it’s prison love. All y’all shut up! He ain’t takin’ dick! He’s on top anyway, I know that!” Rakhim said, his eyes closed. They all tittered with laughter, which made Rakhim frown though he didn’t say anything else. He just gripped Avery by the ass and started ramming again.
Then he twitched like he hadn’t meant to touch Avery’s ass with his hands. He grimaced and let go. He kept ramming back and forth though.
Avery had already shot his wad onto the floor, so every stroke of Rakhim’s cock inside him just extended his post-orgasmic bliss. His ass was in terrible pain now, since Rakhim had a huge cock and rammed with it clumsily, obviously having never stuck anyone in the ass before (probably including women). But the pleasure of the man’s cock throbbing inside him combined with the arousal flowing through Avery’s body to make him writhe uncontrollably. Avery felt like he was falling apart.
“I can ram you so hard, whiteman, you gonna be beggin’ me for mercy,” Rakhim said, his voice trailing off like he realized he was making a boast he might not be able to back up. He wrapped one of his arms around Avery’s throat. “Gonna treat you like a prison bitch. This is prolly how that bitch Ramon gets it.”
He put Avery in a loose chokehold and slammed his cock in, moving his hips around as though he needed to do it from every angle. He groaned and grunted into Avery’s ear. Avery moaned and bucked, resisting at first then allowing Rakhim to ram him harder and harder.
“Fuck you, man, fuck you!” Rakhim hissed directly into Avery’s ear. That made Avery shudder with both fear and desire, and his ass clenched around Rakhim’s cock.
At last that was it. Rakhim groaned, and it was obvious he was relieved to finally finish. The other men clapped. His voice broke in Avery’s ear, his breath condensing on his skin.
“Oh damn, I guess those balls do work.”
Hot cum flew into Avery’s ass. Rakhim was young so his balls were full, bursting with juices. It all flowed into Avery like his cock was a hose, and his cum sprayed throughout Avery’s body. He could feel it trickling into every corner of his flesh. A surprised moan came Rakhim, and an intense moan boomed out of Avery’s mouth.
Some of it seeped down his thighs too, trickling onto the ground and the puddle of Avery’s own cum. Rakhim roared and pounded on his chest, breathing heavily. His roar was interrupted by his own gasp, and then he snarled as Reg pinched his asscheek again.
“There you go, you got it. You worked hard for yo’ money, nigga,” Reg said.
Rakhim nodded. “Uh-huh. Tol’ you. Told you I could do it.”
“You said you could make him beg you-“
“He begged. I heard it,” Rakhim said. He pulled out and grimaced, gagging at the sight of Avery’s cum-filled asshole. Avery giggled and squeezed his ass, making a big clump of cum slide down his leg. The men all laughed and clapped. Rakhim took a deep breath. “I did it, nigga.” He paused. “Wait, what? Whatchoo sayin’ ‘bout money?”
No one answered him. They all exchanged knowing glances. Rakhim furrowed his brow, looking right at Reg. He didn’t notice Avery pull out his checkbook and start writing.
“Huh? Uncle Reg, what was you sayin’?”
Avery handed Rakhim a check for eleven hundred dollars — the extra was to cover the cost of cashing the check at a payday-loan place. Rakhim took the check, but it didn’t register, he just scowled at Reg.
“Uncle Reg, what did-?” He saw the check. “What’s this? Huh?”
Avery just walked away, cum still dribbling down his thighs. He squeezed between two sweaty bodies, since the men were still interlocked in a tight circle. He kept his tongue out as he went so he got to lick all the salty sweat off one man’s ebony torso on his way out. Whoever it was jumped away like Avery’s tongue was painful.
“Yo, did he just pay me?! Why ain’t you tell me I was gettin’ paid?! Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that, nigga! Hell yeah, I got white men payin’ fo’ my meat. Ain’t nothin’ wrong ‘bout that. You tell my pops, right? He won’t believe me. Uncle Reg, you gonna tell him?”
“Nah. I will tell yo’ moms though.”

The Lumberjack

When Yoder’s leave from the lumber camp goes wrong, he’s got no choice but to spend the night with Cooter! Cooter’s a filthy, hairy redneck with some curious ideas on what men can do on lonely nights…

Can Yoder handle the kind of sweet release Cooter’s seeking?!

Read it now as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Yoder assumed he would get laid on his night out. He had spent two weeks living in a remote camp in the middle of nowhere, working as a lumberjack on a remote tree farm in West Virginia. It was just him and about two dozen roughnecks like him, no women, for weeks. The work was arduous, and Yoder’s muscles ached so bad they were numb some days. Even today, when he was off all day, he struggled to get out of his bunk. His back and his legs and his shoulders ached like a Monday morning, and he could still feel the vibrations of yesterday’s chainsaw reverberating through his body.
Needless to say, the lumberjacks all planned on fucking whores when they finally got a night off in town (the “town” being Laramy, West Virginia). They done been talking about it for weeks even before Yoder showewd up — some them working-harders been living there in the woods for a couple months already. This was Yoder’s first job of this sort, but the others was old hats at it, and some had done been lumberjacking for decades. They steady procured a prostitute on their first night off, they did declare. It was a tradition of sorts.
Or maybe “tradition” was overselling it. They was just horny, and they don’t got the patience, stature or stability needed to attract a woman as a partner. Their only outlet — Yoder’s only outlet — was a prostitute.
That made Yoder nervous. He ain’t never had been with a prostitute. He was raised a God-fearing lad, and he wasn’t sure he could go through with it. He was afrighted for his very soul.
But he don’t admire to be left out, so he shown up to the alley behind the late-night bar in Laramy at the designated time with money in his pocket. There was a pimp there — dressed in a resplendent multicolored suit — and a bevy of women.
One by one, the roughnecks did choose a woman. That included this fat-ass Pollack who talked like he had gotten one of his extra chins stuck between his teeth, a half-Mexican who was the most racist son of a bitch Yoder had ever met and a gibbering hillbilly who had Mountain Dew for brains. None them got any trouble hiring a woman for the night, or for a couple hours at least.
But Yoder done arrived there last, and by the time it was his turn, there were no women left. The pimp shrugged and said sorry, that was it, he don’t got any more hos. He walked away, leaving Yoder there, dejected and alone.
Alone save for Cooter.
Jethro “Cooter” Wilde was the tallest lumberjack at the camp and the biggest one too. He was one them with experience, having done work as a lumberjack much of his life, and he had bulging muscles, a powerful body and a hairy chest. He spoke with a hoarse, gravelly voice from his constant smoking, and he was so loud and rambunctious that Yoder considered getting a hotel room just for himself, even without a whore — he didn’t much like the idea of spending the evening in camp with no one but Cooter to keep him company.
They could have drank alone in a bar, but that seemed pointless if there was no chance of getting laid (and in this rural area inhabited almost entirely by roughneck men, the chances of getting laid by a non-prostitute approached zero — even meeting a woman was a slim prospect). It was cheaper to drink back in the camp, so that was what they decided to do.
But when they got back to the cabins they had done built — first step on the job had been building their own cabins — they had locked up the stash. That wasn’t to keep Yoder and Cooter out, it was because another fracking company crew was working nearby and they had a reputation for stealing beer. Arnie ain’t think anyone would be here tonight.
So they ate dinner and then went to bed, both Yoder and Cooter too depressed to do much else. The lack of sex didn’t seem like a big deal to Yoder really, he was ambivalent about prostitution anyway. Well, not ambivalent, opposed.
But he would have done it. He thought now he would have done it. He had a girlfriend before coming to work at the lumberjack camp, and he missed her more than he thought possible. Not just her body either, but including her body. She loved to fuck.
If nobody ever brung up the prostitute thing, Yoder would have been fine. If nobody ever done invent prostitution, it wouldn’t have even occurred to him that he was missing out on a chance to fuck this weekend. No way to get a girlfriend living as a lumberjack out in the woods, so there was no way to fuck.
But there was a way to fuck without a girlfriend, and Yoder had missed out on it. Being so close to getting laid left him horny and unable to think about anything else. He even had the money to pay for it still in his pocket.
But now here he was, trying to sleep in the cabin he shared with nineteen other men. It smelled like body hair and like sweat and engine grease and sawdust. He wanted to go home. He wanted to see that old girlfriend again. Just hear her voice.
Or maybe hearing her voice would tantalize him all over again.
“Hey… Yoder…” came Cooter’s gravely voice from his upper bunk on the other side of the cabin.
“What?”
He jumped down from his bunk. His massive body jiggled as he stretched his legs and came over to Yoder’s side. “I can’t sleep,” he said. “I’m too horny.”
“Me neither.” Yoder paused. “You wanna take a turn in the porn shed?” That was a tool shed near the living quarters. Inside was a trunk filled with old-fashioned porn magazines (it also had tools). The roughnecks took turns jacking off there at night, and sometimes they didn’t even take turns. No room for squeamishness in Lumber Camp D. Yoder thought it was gross — he did it, of course, but in his mind, men should pretend they didn’t masturbate. He didn’t see the attraction of making everyone cum on the same photo in the same magazine until the entire thing was wrinkled and soggy, pages stuck together. Yoder didn’t like to touch it.
Some of the others, including Cooter, thought it was hilarious to make it filthy.
“I don’t wanna jack off.” Cooter stood there like he was waiting for something. With only two men, the cabin had an eerie liminality to it that made the hair on the back of Yoder’s neck stand on end. He didn’t like being in camp without all the people. It felt like a post-apocalyptic hauntscape. Cooter cleared his throat.
“Okay… then I guess go back to bed?”
Cooter took a deep breath. “You wanna… do somethin’?”
“What?”
“I mean… we could share mouth.” Cooter had suggested that before. Back when he was a young man, he claimed, there was no porno shed, or at least there was no porno. The lumberjacks traded mouths to get their nuts off.
Seemed gross to Yoder. It was gross. Yoder didn’t even like getting dome that much. Sure, it’d be nice, but it was no ass. Yoder loved ass for sure.
After a long pause, Yoder said, “Are you serious?”
Cooter nodded. He sat down on the edge of Yoder’s bunk. “Come on… if you swallow my dick, you know, full mouth, I’ll let you stick me up the ass.”
“What? Really? Yeah, I mean…” Yoder blurted out without thinking about it. In his mind, he wasn’t agreeing to do that, he was agreeing that it was a good trade, it was beneficial for him — Yoder would be getting more than he gave.
He wasn’t saying ‘yes’, per se, even if the thought of getting his dick in some booty was tantalizing. Yoder’s stiffy was still tenting his boxers. Cooter had a well-muscled ass, and Yoder was no stranger to cornholing a man when he got to — Yoder was from Smashwood Trailer Park, where cornholing a hobo was a veritable rite of passage.
But Cooter? He was hairy, sweaty, big… Yoder mighta said no if he got time to think about it, but Cooter took his agreement as a yes and ran with it, and by the time Yoder was brainstorming how to say no, Cooter was dropping his drawers.
“Oh thank god,” Cooter said. He flopped his fat cock between his fingers, swaying it left and right.
This was all happening very fast. Yoder still lay on his side on his bunk, and now Cooter sat naked right next to him. His broad, plump asscheeks spread out on the mattress. Yoder looked at the hair of his ass with considerable discomfort, both because he could only imagine Cooter farting onto Yoder’s mattress right now and because he was nervous about getting up into that hairy, massive ass. He was not going to be able to pretend he was with a woman.
But Yoder didn’t want to back out. He remained on his side but curled up around Cooter’s body so his head was near Cooter’s lap. The smell of cockmeat assaulted his nostrils. Cooter had a big dick, which he whacked across Yoder’s face. Cooter laughed.
“Can you not fuckin’ hit me with your cock?” Yoder asked. He flared his nostrils, not that Cooter could see it in the dark.
Cooter chuckled like Yoder was an idiot for asking. “Sorry, I was just playin’, hoss,” He sighed at the serious expression on Yoder’s face, dimly illuminated by the dim light at the cabin’s door. “Just get to it, Yoder, don’t blueball me. Make it nice and wet.”
Yoder sighed, but he cut his sigh short because his mouth filled with humid air from Cooter’s hairy crotch, as Cooter stood and faced Yoder’s bunk, his barbaric dick dangling free near Yoder’s head.
The air tasted like cock already. Cooter was a hairy redneck with a wild bear, and his wild furry crotch was dense and bushy. His dick was even bigger than it seemed from a distance because so much of it was concealed behind his pubic hair.
But Yoder didn’t want to put this off any longer, or Cooter was going to get angry, and Yoder’s cock was crying out for ass. Yoder opened his mouth and swallowed his dick down to the root.
Instantly a few sensations overwhelmed Yoder — first, there was disgust, as Cooter’s cock tasted like distilled manhood, like Yoder was licking every inch of his body rather than just sucking on the tip of his dick. Second, it didn’t taste anywhere’s near as bad as he had predicted. Maybe it was just because he was horny, Yoder thought, but this really wasn’t too bad. It tasted a lot like dirty pussy.
Of course he didn’t want to admit that. His throat opened up as he forced himself to deep-throat Cooter, all the way to the root. He had a big cock so Yoder struggled to get it all down, but when he did, Cooter’s entire body writhed from intense pleasure. His nose nuzzled Cooter’s pubic jungle.
That veiny beefy shaft throbbed in Yoder’s mouth. He let his tongue roam up and down the shaft because he knew he liked it when girls did that to him, and apparently Cooter enjoyed it too because he moaned and arched his back as Yoder did it. Yoder blushed — he hadn’t meant for it to look like he was good at this.
“Hey… will you gimme a reacharound when you stick it in me?” Cooter asked, his voice quiet as though there was some chance someone might could have done snuck into their camp to hear him. He pulled his dick away from Yoder’s mouth, and Yoder held back a gag as he wiped off spitty tendrils connecting his face to Cooter’s cock. That made him gag again.
“A reacharound?” Yoder’s voice was clipped and moist. He drooled because he didn’t want to swallow what was in his mouth, and he didn’t want to spit on the floor of the cabin he lived in.
“Yeah. Do I gotta explain what that is?”
“Well… I suppose I can guess,” Yoder said. “I thought you wanted mouth?”
“I do. I did. I can’t conc’ntrate on it knowin’ what’s ’bout to happen,” he said. “So if’n you j’st gimme a reacharound while you do it, t’won’t be that bad..”
“Fine, yeah, I’ll jack you off,” Yoder said, glad to stop tasting his nasty dick. He stood up next to his bunk and quickly dropped his sweatpants, while Cooter got on his knees and bent over.
That’s when Yoder realized how awkward this was gonna be.
Cooter was quite a bit taller and a lot heavier than Yoder. Even on his knees, the size difference was substantial, and Yoder hadta get him to lower his ass so Yoder could get it in him. Yoder was on his tiptoes to get his dick lined up with Cooter’s ass.
He felt small and skinny next to Cooter. In comparison to these other roughnecks, Yoder came across like a skinny prettyboy. That’s how they saw him. He wasn’t, not really, he just wasn’t the kind of raunchy-bearded hard-living freak who spent his whole life wandering between prison cells, work-camps and oil rigs.
And there was that hairy ass. Yoder hadn’t really thought about that until he saw it bent over before him, and now the time had come — he was going to put his dick in there. He felt like he was sticking it into a trap, but he was too horny to back out now. Besides that, he had already done his half. Quitting now would be humiliating.
He pushed his limp dick between those cheeks, nestled in the thick fur of Cooter’s hillbilly ass. Cooter grunted as though he was already in pain, though Yoder hadn’t even penetrated him yet. His body hair was coarse and unpleasant, distinctly unfeminine, Yoder was unable to pretend it was a woman’s pubic hair.
“You have a hairy ass, you fuckin’ redneck, shit…” Yoder gritted his teeth as he rubbed his dick in the hair of Cooter’s crack. Cooter laughed at him — he, like most of the other roughnecks in this camp, wore the redneck badge proudly.
Much to Yoder’s surprise, his dick got hard quickly, despite the ass-hair. The tension and anxiety flowing through his veins probably helped, but he hadta admit that Cooter’s muscular ass was arousing. The cheeks were tight, but plump, and the hair was moist with sweat, so when he could stop thinking about what he was doing, he could imagine a woman.
Yoder didn’t want to seem like he had trouble getting hard, so he quickly pushed his dick in, just the tip at first. He felt a surge of pleasure as his dick squeezed into Cooter’s tight asshole. He was not expecting it to feel this good.
Cooter grunted and buried his face in his meaty forearm. He held his breath, biting his upper lip as he struggled to loosen his ass. His toes curled against the ground.
“Open up, hoss,” Yoder said, chuckling as he imitated Cooter’s accent. Cooter grunted again, as though he didn’t appreciate Yoder’s joke, but Yoder didn’t care. He felt powerful, like he wasn’t the green rookie anymore. He felt like he had conquered Cooter, a much bigger and stronger man than he.
Yoder’s hands flailed above Cooter’s body. Cooter’s back muscles writhed, his shoulders etched like a statue; there was a confederate tattoo on his spine, and a Bible verse printed in flowing script on his ribs, extending onto his back. With the tattoos and the undulating muscles, Yoder couldn’t imagine he was touching a woman’s back, which was why Yoder kept his hands away.
But it was awkward to plow back and forth into his ass without touching Cooter. The more Yoder rammed his lower half at Cooter’s body, the fewer inhibitions he had, so his one hand separated the cheeks, ignoring the dense blanket of fur on Cooter’s ass. Meanwhile his other hand caressed Cooter’s back. His instincts took over, and all he could do was watch as his hand did what it wanted. The muscles beneath his grip writhed firmly like a layer of snakes below the skin.
“Don’t forget, hoss, you gotta gimme that reacharound…” Cooter said, his voice pinched and tense from pain.
Yoder had sort of forgotten that, or at least tried not to think about it. He sighed. His right hand moved from Cooter’s back muscles to his front. He had a hairy chest too, but Yoder moved down, through the dense thicket of fur there, until he felt coarse pubic hairs.
Then he wrapped his hand around that cock, which felt greasy and slick from Yoder’s mouth. The saliva was evaporating from the shaft, but there was still enough there to provide some lubrication. He trembled as he gave it a stroke and felt Cooter’s entire body move. The dickshaft pulsated beneath Yoder’s fingers.
Despite his discomfort with the situation, Yoder plowed harder and harder. His dick thrust into Cooter’s ass, each motion making Cooter gasp in a combination of pain and pleasure. Each thrust also sent tingles of desire up Yoder’s spine, making himg runt and groan along with Cooter.
“Damn, hoss, you go hard…”
Yoder was proud of that. He was smaller, weaker and less confident than Cooter in almost everything, so it felt good to know his dick caused Cooter some pain. He ground his dick in slowly, savoring the waves of pre-orgasmic pleasure that washed over him.
“You got a nice ass, Cooter, tight as hell… Wish you’d shave your asshole though,” Yoder said.
“Not a chance.”
The crippeting of the crickets and spring peepers outside was deafening, but Yoder listened attentively to it so he would hear if the others returned to the site. The more excited Yoder was, the more paranoid he became that the other campmates would be back early. Yoder knew Cooter had more to lose than he did, at least right now, but he remained paranoid as his dick slammed in and out of Cooter’s ruddy ass.
Yoder wasn’t sure he wanted to cum first, but he wasn’t able to prevent it. He thought it’d make him look like a wuss who couldn’t last a long time.
But Cooter’s ass was tight, and not even the forest of hair that choked his asshole could prevent Yoder from cumming. He moaned and slammed his hips hard against Cooter’s plump blue-collar ass. Cooter’s cheeks jiggled like a stripper’s.
Though Yoder would later call it weak to save face, the orgasm that wracked his mind and body was the most intense and potent of his life. His mind melted and his muscles all tensed at once. He felt victorious in a way he never had before, like he was extracting all of the manhood from Cooter, who cringed and writhed beneath Yoder’s much smaller body.
“God damn, you hillbilly fuck! Hell yeah!” Yoder was unable to conceal his excitement anymore. His spine arched as his climax roiled through his frame.
Cum spurted out and coated Cooter’s insides, his hot and creamy seed spreading within Cooter’s massive body. Yoder wasn’t sure how much he shot, but it felt like a lot, a bigger load than he had ever produced. Jet after jet of it angled into every corner of Cooter’s guts.
It dripped out and down Cooter’s legs, getting tangled in the coarse hairs of his thigh. Cooter moaned and shuddered. His fingers gripped the mattress on the bunk, and he took a deep breath as his ass filled up with Yoder’s cum.
When Yoder finally fell limp, his dick flopped out of Cooter’s ass. Yoder sighed with the power of his post-orgasmic pleasure, while Cooter sighed from relief that his ass was finally empty again.
“Get back to my dick, hoss…” Cooter said. His voice was tight like he was still in pain.
He sighed and got on his knees next to the bed, while Cooter rolled over. He winced and tentatively put weight on his ass. Yoder tried to hide how proud he was of the fact that his cock had hurt Cooter — Cooter was so much bigger than Yoder that it seemed reasonable to be proud of being able to hurt him. Yoder would have guessed that Cooter was big enough and tough enough to take any dick easily, if he had wanted to.
Cooter struggled to settle on his ass. His dick was rock-hard, throbbing and ready — it felt like it was already near orgasm as Yoder gripped it again. It seemed harder than his own dick ever was. Was that an illusion, he wondered? Or was Cooter really as hard as rock?
Regardless, Yoder swallowed it down, just like before. It tasted worse now, like salty cum as though Yoder’s load had come out Cooter’s dick. He tasted it for a few seconds before he realized it was precum.
That made him gag, but Yoder didn’t stop. Cooter wrapped his hands around Yoder’s head and held on. He slammed his dick all the way — all his gentility was gone, like he had only been gentle about it before because he wanted Yoder to treat him gently when Yoder got him in the ass, or maybe it was because he now felt he needed to reassert his masculine dominance. Or maybe, Yoder thought, he was just so horny he couldn’t help himself. He throated Yoder hard, chuckling as Yoder gagged when his dick hit the back of his throat.
He stopped moving with his cock all the way into Yoder’s throat, his shaft pulsating, the veins of his dick throbbing as Yoder sensed cum flowing towards the tip. That sensation — feeling semen flow through Cooter’s dick in his mouth, his balls crawling up in his sac, giant muscles tensing and relaxing in waves above Yoder’s head — made Yoder gag all over again.
“Ah, yeah, makin’ love to yo’ throat, hoss, that’s what that is…” Cooter said with a groan and a laugh.
Yoder had thought his own load was thick and plentiful, but that was nothing compared to what came out of Cooter’s cock. It felt like he was chugging it, and it flowed out in a constant stream. It coated Yoder’s tongue and the inside of his cheeks, and it sprayed down his gullet, while more dripped out past his lips.
The taste was sour, sweet and salty all at once. It made Yoder’s eyes water the flavor was so potent, and he could sense its heat suffusing from his stomach to every corner of his belly.
At last Cooter let go of Yoder’s head. Yoder pulled off and sputtered as cum dripped from his mouth. He held back a gag, then darted to the back door of the cabin to spit it up into the grass.
“Thanks,” Cooter called out from the bunk. “You swallow dick good, hoss.”
“Fuck you, you got a nice, tight ass. Or you did have a nice, tight ass anyway,” Yoder said with a nervous laugh, as he returned from the back door.. He stayed away from Cooter, whose limp dick still loomed large between his legs. They both tried to catch their breath.
Then Yoder’s blood froze when he heard a truck engine rumbling outside the cabin. Raucous laughter emanated from outside, and Yoder jumped to his feet. He bumped into Cooter, who did likewise, and Yoder got a faceful of funk-sweat plastered all over his skin. The salt of Cooter’s chest hair and sweat trickled into Yoder’s mouth, making his lips pucker.
Damn, those bitches is already asleep! I’m glad I got my nut off!
They were back early. Yoder felt like he was covered in cum and it would be obvious what happened. Should he take the time to wipe his face off? Or just hide under the covers?
Cooter strode outside, stark naked, totally confident, stretching his legs as he tried to hide the pain in his ass. He grabbed his shower stuff as he went — he was known for walking to the shower-tent naked, so that was a good idea. Yoder wished he had thought of it. He watched Cooter’s naked hairy ass jiggle as he walked outside.
What’s up, boys? You fuck the shit outta those ugly whores?!
You’re a damn pussy, Cooter. You could’ve had sloppy seconds, y’know.
Did you and Yoder have a circlejerk?
What?
That’s what we all guessed you was doin’ back here.
We ain’t do that. We just took turns in the porno shed.
Yoder quickly wiped his face off with his own t-shirt, then darted underneath the sheet on his bunk. The whole mattress stank of Cooter and his hairy ass, but Yoder was terrified of being caught so that didn’t bother him. Would they see cum on his face? Had he wiped it all off? Would they smell the funk?
The cabin door opened, and Yoder scrunched his eyes up to pretend to be asleep. He had, however, never been more awake in his life. He sighed and tried to pretend he was ignoring his campmates as they took their own clothes off, bragging about how hard they had fucked their respective whores.
If only they knew, Yoder thought with a wry smile as he finally drifted off to sleep. A part of him was glad he hadn’t fucked a prostitute. That would have been immoral and expensive. It was better to swing on the downlow with Cooter.
As a matter of fact, Yoder had another leave coming up in two weekends. He wondered if Cooter would be willing to take a second go. This, Yoder thought, just might make his time as a lumberjack a lot more satisfying.

The Politician

When Avery lobbies a presidential candidate on some pet issues, he didn’t realize what he was in for! The studly Governor Harold Tamperton is ready to give Avery the reacharound of a lifetime in exchange for political support, an exchange that’s worth every penny to Avery!

Read it soon as an ebook!

Or read the whole thing here!

Avery sighed. Was Mr. Tamperton going to stand him up? He would have thought not — Avery was representing an important lobby group, and Mr. Tamperton’s campaign was who set this up. They reached out to Avery, not the other way around. Now Mr. Tamperton was an hour late. Avery had come to assume politicians would always be late — that was in their DNA. A part of him had believed Charlie Tamperton’s claim that he would be different. A part of him hoped Tamperton would be different.
But mostly, Avery suspected that Charlie Tamperton would not be different at all.
The hotel lobby was fashionably minimalist, with carpet softer than most mattresses and of the most exquisitely vibrant shade of white Avery had ever seen, it was sort of an electric white, like the white equivalent of neon pink, and it was spotless. Shockingly spotless, like fresh off the factory, not a single smudge or mote of dullness. That and an odd statue were the only things of note in the vault-like minimalist “splendor” of the Granger Ben Hotel.
Minimalist doesn’t mean spending less on decor, it means spending more on less decor. The elite will always spend to make sure the peons know they can. In the olden days, they did so by hiring a hundred artisans to work for a lifetime decorating every inch of a cathedral. Now they hire the equivalent in man-hours to create, install and clean a fantastically expensive alabaster carpet that gets steam-cleaned every ten minutes and one statue that was hard to identify but might have been a goat in a bathtub and which may have had a feminist bent. Avery couldn’t quite put his finger on what was feminist about it. It had a plaque, but he was not going to read a goddamn plaque about a feminist, like in a museum, but anyway, both the goaty shape and the bathtubby shape had a feminist air about them. So instead of hiring stonecarvers and woodworkers to build a cathedral for seventy years, they pay a couple million up front for some absurdly dumb feminist goat in a feminist bathtub and a million or two in wages over many years to various cleaners, installers, repairers, etc. They spend just as much, but they call it minimalist.
Avery would rather employ stonecarvers and woodworkers than feminists and cleaning crews. Plus, there’d be more to look at when he sat here twiddling his thumbs like a fucking idiot, waiting an hour and a half for that billionaire shitheel Charlie Tamperton. Avery was definitely deleting his dumbass apps. Except the one with the ostrich that finds coupons.
“There you are, Mr. Flowers,” said a suited man who appeared next to Avery, startling him. How he snuck up to Avery in a minimalist hotel lobby, with nothing to hide behind except six uncomfortable chairs, ten dead-eyed staff and a goat-in-a-bathtub’s worth of feminism, Avery will never figure out. Somehow the Asian man with the dead eyes and swampy cologne managed to surprise him. He gave Avery a polite nod. “I’m Delaney Chu, Mr. Tamperton’s campaign manager. He’s ready to see you now.”
Avery nodded and shook his hand, wondering where Tamperton had come from — Avery was sitting in the front lobby of the hotel, and he hadn’t seen Tamperton enter. He must have slipped in through a service entrance, presumably to avoid the mob of journalists outside. The Democratic primary was heating up, and Tamperton was no doubt being followed by both the press and his opponents’s trackers.
“Mr. Tamperton is very excited for this opportunity,” Delaney said. “He’s wanted to reach out to the legitimate-massage community for a long time. Honestly it’s my fault he hasn’t, blame me for that. He’s been telling me for months that we’ve got to make some allies there. And he’s totally right.”
“I see,” Avery said. He didn’t really believe Delaney — not that he thought Delaney was lying, exactly, but it made sense for Mr. Tamperton to focus on consolidating the main wings of the Democratic Party. He had risen to prominence with a series of sharply worded statements in accordance with Avery’s views, including a harsh eye aimed at the prostitution industry, especially the semi-legal massage parlors that make it hard for legitimate companies to operate. Avery’s business couldn’t compete in advertising with literally all of the city’s pimps and hookers, but many city governments across the country had decided it was better to the semi-tolerate semi-legal semi-businesses of pimps and madams, and they had no interest in supporting the operations of legitimate massage companies. Avery had formed and then found himself in charge of a lobby group devoted to legitimate-massage businesses, and as the presidential race heated up, Avery found his little pressure group rising to the top of the Democratic Party. That wasn’t because it was a huge pressure group, precisely the opposite. All the huge pressure groups had committed to a candidate months or years ago. Avery’s was one of the few groups that hadn’t yet committed to a candidate.
The immigrant-rights community nationwide had rallied around Avery and rocketed him to the top of the Democratic Party’s primary polling in the early months. That was not his intent — a lot of immigrants were masseurs, that was why. So the conventional wisdom was that candidates could nail down Avery’s endorsement and garner votes from the anti-prostitution folks and the immigrants.
Now that the first primaries and caucuses loomed closer, some of the more minor candidates were getting traction. Mr. Tamperton’s endless barrage of media-grabbing statements dominated the news, while Vermont Governor Paul Thandrasepkatar got some key endorsements, especially from a handful of celebs. Tamperton had come out on the wrong side of the police brutality debate, which made it hard for the ultra-leftists to support him. Governor Thandrasepkatar had come out in support of some popular things, which Mr. Tamperton couldn’t support without being seen as a flip-flopper. So despite Tamperton’s initial success, Governor Thandrasepkatar was vacuuming up support.
Avery represented one of the few immigrant civil rights organizations that hadn’t yet endorsed Thandrasepkatar, and he knew Tamperton was going to be desperate for a way back in to the good graces of the immigrant community. He wondered what Tamperton would say today to dominate the news cycle tomorrow, and he hoped it wasn’t at his expense.
Of course none of that had anything to do with legitimate massage. But more than two-thirds of the dues-paying businesses in Avery’s lobby group were owned by immigrants, and there were a lot more immigrants than legitimate massuers in this country.
Avery was so lost in thought he didn’t notice that Delaney was taking him downstairs, to the basement. He wasn’t going to a hotel room at all.
In the basement of the hotel — the basement had no decoration either, just more spotless white in the form of painted walls, which again had no smuges or fingerprints or faded spots —Delaney brought Avery past the pool. They stopped in front of a door marked SAUNA. He smiled and held the door open, motioning for Avery to squeeze in past the pair of burly bodyguards who stood sentry.
“Mr. Tamperton is getting a steam,” Delaney said. “But he’ll see you now. Feel free to take off your clothes.”
There was a little changing area in the front of the sauna. Avery entered and nervously took off his clothes. He had always loved saunas — that was his favorite part of his recent trip to Finland. It was only as Avery wrapped a towel around his waist and walked into the sauna that he realized he had posted about the trip, and his effusive love for saunas, on Facebook.
That was why Tamperton arranged for a meeting here. He looked through Avery’s Facebook timeline until he found out what he liked: saunas. It felt like pandering, it was patronizing. It was hard to take notes in the steamy sauna too, which made Avery wonder if Tamperton’s plan was to prevent Avery from keeping a record of what he said.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Flowers,” Mr. Tamperton said. His face was shrouded by steam. “Please, call me Tamperton. Don’t you love this sauna? It’s the greatest, I’m a yuge fan of saunas. The steam is wonderful for the skin.”
“Yeah, I’m sure,” Avery said. “Well… Tamperton, I’m sure you realize why I agreed to meet with you. The organization I represent-“
“Wait, wait, Avery, let’s not jump right into business,” Mr. Tamperton said. “Let’s just chat a bit. I’d like to get to know you.”
Avery shrugged as he sat down. The sauna was so misty and dim that he hadn’t seen Tamperton until he got to the bench he sat on. That’s when he clocked that Tamperton was stark naked, not even wearing a towel around his waist.
His body was more powerful than it seemed when he wore a suit on television, Avery thought. Tamperton had a barrel chest, not at all saggy from age, and though the hair on his head was ruddy and balding, the hair on his chest was fresh, dark and just thick enough to grab nd hold onto. He was stronger than Avery had thought he would be, and perhaps most surprisingly, he had a massive cock resting between his sweaty thighs.
This was definitely not how Avery had expected this interview to progress. He wondered how he could bring this up at the next meeting without looking like a Tamperton fanboy excited to see his crush’s cock. That wasn’t at all how Avery felt He had never thought of Tamperton as having an excellent physique until just now, when his naked, sweat-dappled body was right in front of Avery’s eyes.
And now Avery found his eyes drawn to that magnificant cock.
“How are you enjoying the campaign?” Avery asked, nervous at sitting next to someone so intensely masculine, not to mention a powerful billionaire. The humid sauna-sweat glistened on his broad chest and shoulders, and when he touched his own chin, he left a trail of moisture that ran down his the curves of his pecs in rivulets.
“I’m enjoying it plenty, I love this kind of scrappy repartée, the exchange of ideas, the Sturm und Drang of it all,” he said. “The one problem is that I never see my wife.”
“That’s tough. Being president is even tougher though,” Avery said. A part of him had always been worried that Tamperton wasn’t serious — being president wasn’t like being CEO of a professional rugby team (that was one of Tamperton’s high-profile business ventures). He was going to have to be on duty all the time.
“Sure, sure, I can’t wait. I’ll enjoy that, honestly. My wife will be there in the White House with me. She can’t travel on the campaign trail with me, but she would gladly move into the White House. She’s already picking out curtains,” he said. Then he cleared his throat nervously. “Look… I’m gonna have trouble concentrating on this interview if we don’t do something about…” He gestured towards his crotch. “Without my wife at my side at nights, I need another way to let off a little steam.” He laughed as he gestured to the steam that filled the sauna.
“I’m sorry, Tamperton?”
“Do you want to jerk me off?”
“… I’m sorry, Tamperton?”
“Of course you can’t put it in your article. I’ll deny it. Not even my bodyguards out there know what we’re doing in here,” he said. He shrugged. “You don’t have to. I just thought you were the kind of man who knows your way around a cock.”
“Really?”
He nodded. “Don’t pretend you haven’t been checking me out.”
Avery nodded and blushed.
Before he could do anything else, Tamperton leaned in and kissed him. Avery was so shocked he just sat there like a dead fish at first, then shoved his tongue in Tamperton’s mouth. They collapsed onto the sauna bench, with Tamperton on top of Avery, his burly body weighing him down and his heavy cock pressing into Avery’s thigh.
“Oh… Mr. Tamperton-“
“Call me Tamperton.”
“Tamperton…!”
Tamperton kissed a trail down Avery’s neck and chest. He suckled on each nipple until it was hard, and he smiled at Avery. “You see, I do respect immigrants. I love the immigrants. Not to mention massage. Massage has helped so many of my rugby players with physical ailments.” His breath condensed on Avery’s nape. “I’ll do whatever I can to help the industry.”
“I see…”
His back arched as pleasure shot through him. Tamperton gave his dick a few strokes. It pulsated between Tamperton’s thick fingers, as Avery dragged his own fingers through Tamperton’s thinning reddish hair. The body heat emanating off Tamperton merged with the humid warmth of the sauna, and Avery found his hands moving over the well-worked muscle of Charlie Tamperton’s chest and back.
Then Tamperton lowered his head, as he kissed Avery again on the lips, then the chin, the neck, and a moan of passion came out of both men. Avery sucked in his breath.
This was not how he thought this little foray into lobbying would pan out.
His hands fluttering and running all up and down Tamperton’s well-muscled back, Avery leaned back, thinking Tamperton would soon stop kissing. But no, his kisses moved lower and lower.
Then, before Avery knew it, Tamperton’s mouth encircled Avery’s dick. Avery was astonished to feel his lips on Avery’s cock, but he was too aroused to even process what was happening. He continued lowering his head, still holding his breath as his heart raced, until Avery was laying on the sauna bench on his back. He reached for Tamperton’s crotch, and he hefted that fat erection in one, then both, hands.
With Tamperton atop him, Avery and he arranged their bodies to sixty-nine, with Tamperton on top, his plump, piggish prick aimed right for Avery’s mouth. He was so huge and heavy that Avery could barely wrap his arms around Tamperton’s body.
Avery opened up, feeling that familiar sensation of hot meat invading his throat. His fingers clenched Tamperton’s thick back and ass, as precum invaded his mouth. Avery sucked vigorously, deep-throating and swallowing every inch of his meat. They writhed together, in unison, and for a little while, Avery forgot that Tamperton was part of the political and business elite.
Tamperton’s muscles tightened and flexed above Avery. Tamperton was in much better shape than he had seemed, and Avery could feel the power bristling just below the surface of his body. He had the muscle of the rugby players he employed, Avery thought, wondering if he worked out with his athletes. He was a tech guy, originally and mainly, Tamperton built his business off apps. But he was never a slim computer geek, and his patronage of the American Rugby League was well-known.
The rugby players probably sauna together, Avery realized as he slurped on the savory cock invading his throat. Tamperton might sauna with them.
He loved the man’s body hair too, just thick enough to be unkempt and furry, but not so thick as to be dirty or offputting. He smelled clean and strong, even his dick and despite the sauna-induced sweat that covered his body. His balls were thick and heavy, without the old man-droopiness that Avery had rather assumed he would have.
Precum flooded Avery’s mouth. He enjoyed the sour and salty flavor of precum, not to mention the creamy texture, and he savored it in his mouth now as well. He let it coat his tongue, which ran up and down Tamperton’s veiny shaft. Avery was leaking precum too, and Tamperton swallowed it like he was well-practiced. Avery wondered how often Tamperton had done this before.
He did not do it like a man exploring something new. He did it like this was old hat.
“Wait,” Tamperton said, pulling out just as Avery neared his orgasm. His hefty body hovered above Avery, who gasped in desperate need for more. His cocktip dangled tantalizingly near, just centimeters above Avery’s head. Tamperton smiled. “I’m gonna ram you now, okay? In the ass. I need a tight booty, and I can tell you are gonna be taut as a drum.” He caressed Avery’s smooth belly and added, “I’m gonna tap your ass good, Avery. You won’t be walking straight for a week. You like it like that?”
Avery nodded. “Hell yeah.”
“Do I have your endorsement?”
“I…” Avery gulped. “I need your support on-“
“Of course, of course. The proposed legislation, right? The Massage Rescue Plan? I can absolutely support that, and I promise, if elected president, I will do everything possible to ensure it gets through Congress,” he said. He stood, letting his erection bob around afront Avery’s face. Avery chased it with his tongue until he sensed Tamperton’s bemused gaze.
Then Avery serioused up. Despite his own erection and his strong desire to handle Tamperton’s, Avery only shrugged. “Well then, I guess we can support you — it’s not entirely up to me, you know?”
“I understand. Just tell them what I said — what I said about the Massage Rescue Plan — and that you believe me,” Tamperton said. He teased his knobtip on Avery’s lips. “You do believe me, don’t you?”
“Fuck yes!” Avery exclaimed. He felt bad about selling out his endorsement so easily, but he reasoned that it wasn’t really up to him anyway. He’d tell his committee the political promises Tamperton made, and if that was enough, they’d take their endorsement public. Supporting that in private was the most Avery could do. He wasn’t sure Tamperton understood that, but Avery was not in a position to explain the nuances of his lobby group’s mechanisms.
In one smooth motion, Charlie Tamperton stood, holding Avery in his powerful arms. He flipped Avery over, then bent him over the bench and spread his asscheeks. Avery’s knees went weak even before penetration began. He couldn’t believe this was happening to him, and he wondered if anyone would believe him if he told. Probably not, he decided as Tamperton’s broadly muscled chest rippled behind him, rubbing on Avery’s smooth back.
Tamperton must have had a bottle of lube hidden somewhere nearby, because Avery felt that slippery coldness, which was a pleasant sensation contrasting with the humid warmth of the sauna. The lube slid into his ass and spread to every corner, making him feel all slippery inside. Already Avery felt Tamperton’s hot cock throbbing against the small of his back, and Avery had to hold back a chest-rattling howl of desire.
“Here it comes, Avery, be ready for it,” Tamperton said, using his toned arms to hold Avery in place. The fact that he said Avery’s name turned him on — it felt good to know he was on a first-name basis with someone like this. People often treated him as though he should have personal connections in the government and business elite because of his position in this lobby group, but he didn’t, until now. Tamperton was the only major politician he’d ever met.
“I’m ready…”
A burst of pleasure erupted in his ass as Tamperton’s thick meat pushed inside. Avery gasped and writhed in his arms, struggling to take in its thickness. He reached behind himself with one hand to guide it in, so he could only support himself with the other hand.
Tamperton wrapped both arms around Avery’s body and held him tight, lifting him up so he didn’t have to support himself on his hands at all. Avery’s feet were barely on the floor at all. He ground his ass into Tamperton’s crotch, while feeling his hairy chest grind against Avery’s back.
“Oh god… I secretly love your budget proposal,” Avery blurted out. He hadn’t meant to say that, hadn’t even really thought it firmly to himself. But he felt so good that his internal filter disappeared, and so he moaned on a few more words about tax rates and progressivity before losing track of his thoughts.
“Really? I’m glad you like it, Avery…” His voice was low and guttural, aimed directly in Avery’s ears. Again, when he said Avery’s name, it sent a shiver of sexual energy up Avery’s spine, which caused him a spasm of pain and pleasure as it made his ass twinkle. Avery wondered if Tamperton knew how arousing it was to hear him call out Avery’s name.
One of Tamperton’s hands crept around to Avery’s dick and began stroking it. Avery was already so close to orgasm that his whole body twitched and pulsated as though his touch was painful. Avery moaned so loud he wondered if the bodyguards outside could hear, but if they did, they didn’t say anything or even poke their head in.
Despite Avery’s animated response to his touch, Tamperton didn’t slow down. He forced his dick in and out, hard enough that Avery felt overwhelming agony that was drowned out by the bliss emanating from his ass. He moaned around the thick arm that caressed his neck and face.
He finally shot his load just as Tamperton reached his own climax. Hot cum sprayed from his dick and covered the bench beneath him. Avery moaned and squirmed beneath Tamperton’s grasp. His back rippled as his muscles all tightened at once, and Tamperton held him tight. It felt like they were melting together, becoming one person, and Avery even had a momentary fantasy of him moving into the White House with Tamperton.
Wad after wad of creamy seed burst forth within Avery’s spasming body. It coated his insides and dripped down his legs as Avery’s spine undulated. Pleasure coursed through his veins. He gasped and fell limp, supported only by Tamperton’s strong arms.
Then it was over. Avery had no idea how long it had lasted. His orgasm felt like it might have gone on for hours, though he knew that was impossible — Tamperton’s retinue would have come in to get him by now. He must not have been as loud as it felt like he was too. Bodyguards would definitely have come in if they heard Avery scream the way it sounded in Avery’s own ears.
Tamperton pulled out, sending a shiver of relief up Avery’s back. His jizz continued seeping through his body and dripping down his thighs. Tamperton whistled his appreciation. “That was nice, Avery,” he said. “Reminds me why I’m not loyal to women. They don’t do it like that, and if they did, they’d still want to cuddle and talk about feelings afterwards. You don’t want to do that, do you, Avery?”
“No,” Avery said. The last thing he wanted to do now was talk about feelings. Cuddling did sound appealing, but once the orgasmic afterglow wore off in a few minutes, he’d be tired of it and their bodies would be hot and sticky.
“Good,” Tamperton said. He held Avery close in his powerful arms, where Avery felt safe and protected. He could see why people supported Tamperton politically — even if he was obviously full of hot air, he was confident and swaggerous, and it made Avery feel less vulnerable to be there scooped up in his arms.
“That was amazing, Mr. Tamperton… Tamperton, I mean,” Avery said. “Are you really a big supporter of the legitimate-massage industry?”
“I really am. It’s vital to the athletes who work for me, and I have always insisted that my companies offer massage as part of the healthcare and benefits package,” he said with a deep breath. “I’m so glad to have your support. I look forward to your organization campaigning with me.”
“that’s really up to the board,” Avery said. He blushed as he straightened out his sore legs — he thought Tamperton was right about him not being able to walk straight for a little while, at least not without concentrating intensely. “But I’ll recommend we come out to support you.”
“Thank you, and Avery?”
“Yes,” Avery said as Tamperton stood up and headed towards the door.
“When I win, I want you to visit me in the White House. You can arrange that, right?”
“That won’t be a problem,” Avery said.
“Good. We can have a wau-wau and… do other things, things that are definitely going to be off the record,” Tamperton said with a knowing grin. “The Lincoln Bedroom will never be the same.”

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.”