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