rage – Mansploitation

The White Trash Veteran: Chapter 1

The White Trash Veteran

The cricks and thickety hollers of West Virginia smelled just like Goose Sampson recollected. While he was gone, he wouldn’ta, couldn’ta and repeatedly did not conjure up the aroma in his imagination. It was unlike any scent his nose done made acquaintanceship with in the jungles of Vietnam. T’was fresh like snow but musty like rain, both dirtsy and woodish, earthy like a campfire and airy like a whetstone, memorable as mama and homey as hugs. He appreciated the fougère of the terroire, though Goose remained polite-nod strangers with both them words.
Carrying a poke fulla dollars and a pocket fulla pantyhose, he hurried by shanks’ mare on through the Appalachian woodlands, darting from sods to bald and back. Sirens blared yonder. Goose stopped when he got to a babbling run and sent the pantyhose floating yanway.
He knewed the area round Martinsburg like the upper sidea his pecker, and he learnt plenty about sneak-a-sleeking through the wooly wilderness of Vietnam. T’wasn’t so different here. Scurrying like a stinky sally on over muddy drafts fulla ferns and towering trees past critters and bugs and varmints chirping and growling and hissing, and there he was, a hillbilly blundering again through laps and laurel hells.
Vietnam got more wetlands, that was the only difference. T’was enough though. Goose discottoned to wetlands.
And skeeters. Vietnam got a peck of skeeters.
Of nightfall, he made it back to Smashwood Trailer Park. He was outta wind, dirty like a cellar, armpits sweat-soaked, but he sauntered in, casual as a bowl of buttermilk. The park was working alive with folks and fellers who Goose knewed since he was a boy. Did them’all know he robbed a bank? They couldn’t know, and ain’t nobody took no note of him. He returned from Vietnam a couple weeks back, so nary the whombodies got whopper-jawed at him moseying home buttermilk-like. He had a poke, t’was all. Just a knapsack, like any feller might could tote.
Nobody knewed it was fulla red-hot greenbacks.
Nobody knewed Ellen been hooking it on the other side of town neither. Ellen was Goose’s wife. They ain’t never done live in matrimony, as they jumped the broom only days before Goose shipped out to the steamy greens. Ellen done come up in the family fashion, so they got married with a hurry and a hoop-dee-hoo. Now Goose returned to the joyness of meeting his newborned son Moses and to the sadness of Ellen admitting she been turning tricks to pay the bills. Army don’t pay diddly.
Goose did more shouting than he cared to admit, and he blistered and kicked up purple, raring and pitching, then he punched a hole in the wall and regretted letting his son see that and afrearing from it, and nothing Goose could do would make him stop crying. He said no wife of his gonna go and sell her God-given ladyness to any pecker-toter with dollars and a stiffy, cuz what was the point of being a man if you can’t keep your little lady from hooking it? But he done got drafted to the other side of the ever-blesséd world, so what was he sposedta do about it? Can’t do squat! Goose screamed like a river at a dam, til Ellen begged him to stop or the neighbors gonna call the sheriff, and Goose wanna ram his noggin into the wall until something somewhere broke.
The whatnots rising in him, Goose only regained hisself when he saw Vietnameys watching him like sentries from the woods behind the trailer. That turned out to be an illusion, but it got Goose calm as a clam, sending Ellen and Moses inside. Then he felt hisself a fool when he reckoned t’was just some shadowy tree swaying in the breeze, and he pretended ain’t nothing happen. He don’t want Ellen to think he couldn’t cope or Moses to think his pops was fearful.
So he steeled up for the woman and the boy. They got needs, and a rock don’t. He ain’t think twice about giving Ellen the cash-money from the robbery. “Don’t spend it all at oncet,” he said.
And he felt bad that he felt good about leaving. He gotsta skedaddle while the heat was on. And he gotsta go less he lose control of his fists again. That boy ain’t a wall, and the lady ain’t a soldier.
She nodded, and she whispered, “Thank you…”. She kissed Goose upon the cheek. That felt good. Damn good. Something about tenderness from a lady reassures a man he is alright and cures a touchous soul. Her lips wouldn’t tremble so soft-like if he was a monster. Ellen wouldn’t kiss a john the way she kissed Goose. He ain’t tell her not to whore it out no more cuz it was implied from the hole in the wall and cuz he ain’t want her to lie and say she would quit off when she really wouldn’t.
The only thing better than kissing Ellen was playing with his son — Moses, but Ellen said everwhom was calling him Buck, cuz he be climbing like a goat. Goose liked that, cuz he was called Buck as a tyke too, on account of his buck teeth. Ellen ain’t know that when she fell to calling Moses Buck.
Buck afreared Goose all afternoon. He ain’t never met the hairy stranger — Goose been letting his hair and his beard go wild now that he ain’t got a sergeant jawing at him about it — it was still coming in dry and coarse though, only gradually returning to health. When Goose smiled like a lamb and pooped down onto the floor of the trailer at Buck’s height to vroom-vroom with his toy truck, Buck giggled and played along. He clum on Goose’s back and rode him like a pony.
Playtime was interrupted when there came a knocky-knock upon the trailer door. It was Anita Daylily, a high-headed whomgoody with a puff of hair and her muff in a huff that some policeman was on the wander, asking if anybody in the trailer park seen Goose — course he asked after his real name, Martin Sampson.
Ain’t nobody in the park gonna make it easy on a policeman. Goose was from round here. Officer Whomsoever was not. Or maybe he was, Goose don’t know. Anyway, that was his cue to scram. Some snoop-nose peckerwood at the bank musta reckonized his voice.
“I gotta go, son,” Goose said. He got down upon his knee to give li’l Moses a big hug goodbye. “Moses…”
“Bye.” T’was all li’l Moses Buck said. He weren’t muchuva talker yet.
Goose kissed him goodbye, and he kissed Ellen goodbye too but in a different way, then he went on back to bush in the wilds up behind Smashwood. He ain’t wanna whisk off, but he ain’t wanna stay even harder. It was better this way, for him to be gone. He gotsta get a grip on hisself, and a man gotsta do that alone.
The world seemed right before the war, right in a way he couldn’t perceive then or articulate now. Expectations done broke, he thought. Goose went to war, he pulled the appropriate trigger at appropriate times, he followed orders mostly, he came back alive, he got money, he gave it to a woman to spend. He did his part. He completed the minimum requisited of a man. But it felt like he done jack up every single thing in the world. He was a retard in boot camp, he dropped his rifle, he got scared as a bunny, he was captured, needed rescue, he lost, he failed, he fell, he wailed. He could get done up by the Vietnameys prolly crawly-trawling the countryside anytime. He done develop a sixth sense about ’em, and it been twinging like a siren. Ain’t quit off since Muck Dan Foo. He don’t wanna go look in the woods lest he either get took captive again or see that he imagined phantoms.
He stayed on the hoof, alert but hazed. He gotsta hide til the cops stop looking for him, wander til the sun sets, lay awake til the dawn comes. One day at a time.
He left Smashwood Trailer Park, but in a way, it felt like he ain’t never return from the Army. He only ever left Smashwood once really. Wise honkies say home is the place where, when you show up, they have to take you in. But war is too. Dumb hillbilly says home is the place where, once you leave, you can never return. War is that too.
The road ran to the highway, and Goose stayed parallel to it so nary a cop or a Vietnamey could see him. They did that in Vietnam, staying parallel to rivers, not roads, but it was the same idea. A river was just the universe’s road. If the Army controlled a river, they’d travel on a riverboat afloat, but if the Vietnameys did, they’d walk parallel to the river, far enough away to be unseen from it.
He noodled on a destination, any one would do, so long as it was away from Ellen and the boy and the skeeters and slant-eyed jaspers of Vietnam. He armybooted through the woods till he wound up on the highway. Rambling along the roadside for a spell, he let his mind dangle like a rod. Plans formed like constellations, but Goose bit back the bubbles of his notions and pondered like a buddha.
The camp cook Sam learned him pondering, but moments jumbled and mixed like phuh. Goose put one foot in front of the other, like the first drop of water striking out a path to sea. T’was hard to build a river with cops and Vietcong and Ellen’s johns blocking the route.
He might as well hitch a ride, he thought, so he thumbed out. It was mostuva hour before a truck pulled over, a big rig hauling cabbages to Roanoke, Virginia. The truck cab smelled of raw cabbage and chewing tobacco.
T’was good enough for Goose, who said he wanna go to Roanoke too. The trucker got a calypso song playing on the eight-track, and Goose wondered why a white man got a feel for calypso, but Goose ain’t ask after it. Goose was in boot camp with a Trinidadian feller, who did flop his dingdong on the regular to calypso records. Goose got no quarrel with calypso.
The driver was Buford, a right-country sumbitch with a ruddynut face and a extra-ruddy mustache that drooped in two lines down to his chin. He got a big head of curly hair.
“You was in the Army?” Buford asked.
Goose dunno how that Buford could tell he was Army. Maybe he done seed Goose’s dog-tags or something. Maybe he just assumpted — Goose weren’t cowering in Canada, and he looked too dumb for the Air Force and too tough for the Navy. Goose said, “Yessuh.”
Buford nodded. “I’s a Navy man, mahself.”
“Oh, tha’ss nice, didya enjoy ya vacation durin’ the war?” Goose said with one whoop, two guffaws and a series of slaps upon his knee.
Buford laughed along with him, and them two swapped insults and war stories like ornery nurses. Turnt out they was both in the same engagement in Na Doong. They might well have done pop off at the same damn gook. Felt good to know it, it settled the cockles of Goose’s manhood. The war was only over a couple months ago, so it warmed his heart to speak of it like history.
But it lingered upon his mind like only the present could. The future stopped the moment he arrived in Vietnam, and Goose ain’t slow his uppermostness down, not then, not now. The past might could still pop outta the woods anytime. There oughta be a after-war boot camp, so somebody could demonstrate that there was a thing called Not-War and that he was in it.
“Hey, you got cash for gas?” Buford asked when they pulled over at a gas station.
“No, suh,” Goose said.
“You got grass?”
Goose shook his head.
“Hmmh… hmm.” Buford said. He got out to pay for the gas hisself.
But Goose reckonized what that murmur meant. A Navy man can’t help hisself. Buford hoped Goose to pay up in cash, grass or ass. That’s how hitchhiking works out in the country.
But Goose don’t give up his bootyhole if he can help it, so when Buford returned, Goose said, “I’ll get’cha started, Buford. But if’n you go’n make me give up the bootyhole, lemme off right now.”
Buford made a dismissive snort. “I ain’t a niggruh,” he said. “I don’t wan’cha rear.” He unzipped his jeans and pulled out a long fat cock. He gave it a couple strokes, then leaned back in the driver’s seat the best he could while still steering the truck onto the highway.
“Sheeit,” Goose said as he wrapped one hand around Buford’s meaty cock. “You Navy men is all the same.” Goose leaned over and put his mouth upon Buford’s knob. It twitched against Goose’s lips when Buford laughed.
“Army is jealous cuz a sailor’s dick do work,” Buford said. He put his left hand upon Goose’s head to push it deeper on his shaft, while his right hand stayed upon the steering wheel. “Ship got no place for a limp dick. Send ’em to the Army!” He cackled. “Or the Marines, I don’t vouch for them.”
Goose made some mouthy noises to communify that he disagreed with Buford’s as to regarding the Army, but he ain’t stop slurping and also don’t dispute the Marine Corps’s reputation. He don’t welch. Goose do what he gotsto. He done so numberous times before, and he likeish would again.
In any case, he know how to get a man going. He commenced to batter Buford’s knobtip with his tongue, and he slicked his lips up and down the shaft. Lotta fellers don’t realize jackin’ a man off with ya tongue is the same as doing it with ya hands — you don’t gotta taste it longer than it takes, just move ya lips up and down same as you would ya hand. If a man’s dick works, it’ll happen quick as candy.
Sure enough, Buford got to leaking prenut in no time. When Goose tasted it, he pulled off, but he kept stroking it with one hand. T’was called ‘starting it off’. Leastways that was what they called it in the Army. Navy prolly calls it ‘e’ry morn’ b’fore breakfast’! They do that, they do be like that. Never get put in the brig on a Navy base, or you gonna taste more meat than a vulture, Goose learnt that good. He learnt that like math.
Buford held onto his head, jabbing at his face and trying a-force Goose to put it back in his mouth. Goose did plant his tongue upon the tip a couple times to mollify Buford, but the taste of pre-jizz got him gagging, qualmish. Buford couldn’t tussle with his head too much while steering, ‘specially once he got close to busting a nut.
Stroking Buford’s dingus fast as a badger, Goose got both hands upon it. His left hand worked the shaft, and his right hand squeezed the base. Buford’s dick was big enough to accommodate both hands. The precum flowed like wine, lubing up Goose’s mitts.
“Ah, wait, wait, here I go, wait, shit…” Buford sucked in his breath. His cock went throbby-lobby like an alien beast, and Goose hurried his rhythm. Buford grunted like it hurt. “Wait, ah, shit, wait, got it, shit-” He cut his own self off with a hiss.
A fat spurt of jizz came outta his dick, jetting into the air and landing back in his hairy crotch. Goose ain’t stop stroking, even when his hand was coated in ackempucky. He kept working Buford’s meat up and down till his balls was good and drained. Cum got all the way up Goose’s arm to his bicep, but he ain’t miss a beat.
Buford’s dick roped limply in Goose’s left hand even before plopping out one final wad of fatness, but Goose leggo with his right hand. Buford was still making noises, whole body contorting, his veiny shaft still throbbing. Then at last Buford sighed and twitched, and a few final drops dribbled into Goose’s grip.
Goose leggo. He wiped up the gom with a napkin, while Buford tucked his man-meat away and redid his jeans with one hand. His other hand stayed on the wheel.
“A Navy man j’st can’t help hisself,” Goose said with a chuckle and a mournful whistle. “You know you ain’t gotta get a man to jerk ya meat? You can stick it in a woman.”
Buford laughed and countered that Goose’s face was ugly as pussy, which worked on two levels, then he turned up the volume on the eight-track. That calypso jangled out bright and clear. Goose liked that. T’was good music to whisk off unthoughted, its lively beat like a river’s current carrying Goose away to benighted shores, and the best part was that it don’t sound nothing like Vietnam.

Roid-Rage

When petite twink Avery is beat up by a road-raging weightlifter, he thought he was done for. But then the cops give him the chance to take his revenge in a way he never expected. It’s a Twink on Top extravaganza that steroid-freak never saw coming!

Read it now as an ebook! Or read the whole thing here!

Avery trembled for what seemed like days, sitting there in the hospital waiting room. He didn’t know why. It wasn’t really that big of a deal.
But it sure could have been. Avery had never been so near death, and it all happened so fast. He could have died and not known it until he woke up in the afterlife.
A man attacked him with a crowbar in a parking lot. Apparently, Avery had cut him off in traffic, but Avery hadn’t noticed because he was dancing in the driver’s seat to Israeli trance music. The attacker was a short, squat bodybuilder in a sleeveless shirt, fleshy arms like a gymnast’s thighs, that was all Avery remembered of what he looked like. Avery had suffered one good whack in the head before a policeman on a bicycle happened past and saw the encounter.
So Avery remained at the hospital for a few hours to treat his head wound, then went back to the police station to make his formal complaint. The neurologist said he should be fine but to call emergency services if he felt symptoms of a concussion again, and he couldn’t sleep for a couple hours. That wouldn’t be a problem, Avery was wired. By then it felt like the attack had happened weeks ago, not this morning. So much had happened since then.
The cop who brought Avery from the hospital to the station opened the door to the interrogation room. He was Officer Cherton, a gruff, no-nonsense ex-marine type, chewing on an unlit cigar. “Mr. Flowers, I wanna make you an offer. That fellah who attacked ya — his name is Levi Hechinger — he regrets what happened something fierce. If you want, I’s gonna recommend that the DA press charges. But you got a second option too. You can save me some paperwork, you can help the state budget crisis by keeping that meathead out of lockup and… you can cornhole him.”
“What?” Avery’s foot was tapping furiously, and he both couldn’t stop doing it and couldn’t focus on anything else.
“He said it’s okay, but we’ll tie him down,” Officer Cherton said. He spat out fragments of the unlit cigar he’d been chewing on. “He’s having a bit of a roidrage sit’ation right now.”
“You want me to cornhole him?” Avery said, furrowing his brow. That was not an offer he was expecting.
Cherton shrugged. “It’s bettuh than me doin’ papuhwork.”
“Oh… uh… Yeah.” Avery agreed more because he couldn’t think of a reason to say no than because he had thought about it and decided he wanted it. He did want it, that just wasn’t a fact he was in the right headspace to figure out right away.
“Good, alright,” Cherton said. He led Avery to the back of the police station, where the local jailhouse was set up. Then he handed Avery a small box with a taser inside, along with a tube of lube and a few other objects Avery didn’t immediately recognize. The cop blushed. “This is our Joybox. That’s what we call it.”
“You cornhole a lot of men?”
“Me? No, I got a girlfriend,” he said. “I don’t need to cornhole perps. But there’s a lotta married or single men at this station, they don’t get laid much, so they get desperate.” He opened a cell door and nodded. “There ya go. Just come on out when you’re done.”
The roidraging man was there, tied to a plain wooden chair, on which he sat backwards, so the back of the chair extended from his crotch up to his chin. He wore only a pair of off-white tattered boxers, the edges of which were mouse-nibbled. He was barrel-chested, so thick it look hard to breathe, and he had a steroid-freak belly, like his abs were as thick as his pecs. His face was aged — young, but aged — and leathery, his hair balding but shaved smooth.
The chair had a short seat, so the man’s meaty ass overhung the back. That left his asshole clear and ready to access, Avery thought with a shiver. The chair was designed to make sure he was in a rammable position, even by someone much smaller than him, like Avery was.
Levi Hechinger was his name. It felt weird to give a name to the man whose blind rage had nearly killed Avery a few hours ago; he had been thinking of him as simply That Steroid Man. Now he had an identity. He wondered if Levi was going to tell anybody about this.
When Avery got closer, he smelled stale sweat and the clinky iron of free weights, like an abandoned factory. He was broad-shouldered, with veiny arms and tight skin. He breathed heavily, both cocky and terrified of what would come next or maybe he was still in the midst of a steroid rage. He was squat and thickly built, massive lats, bulging body with a thick torso despite very low body fat.
Had he agreed to this? Avery wasn’t sure. The cop Cherton implied he had requested it instead of arrest and conviction, but now Avery wasn’t sure. Levi trembled like he didn’t know what was coming. It was possible the cops were tricking Levi, Avery or both.
But Avery had no intention of backing down. He had felt like such a weak, pitiful creature this morning. He had to do something to regain his masculinity.
“What’re you gonna do to me?” barked Levi. Despite his apparent fear, he remained angry — that must be the roidrage, Avery thought. Levi’s voice was guttural and rough like an old broom.
“I’m gonna ram you, Levi,” Avery said. “I thought you knew.” That answers that question, the cops were tricking them both into doing this. Cherton simply didn’t want to do any paperwork, that’s all that was.
Levi laughed, a deep booming sound. “You sound like a fuckin’ pansy.” He wrinkled his nose. “You fuckin’ wuss! C’mon, fight me like a man!”
“I can’t fight you, I’m like a third your weight,” Avery said. He came around to Levi’s front so he could see him. “I know my limits. You tried to kill me earlier.”
“I wasn’t tryin’ to kill ya.”
“You tried to hit me in the head with a crowbar,” Avery said.
“I wasn’t hopin’ you’d die,” Levi said. He had a sharp, stawky accent with that rough-edged cadence like he sucked on tailpipes. He sounded like he was from Manhattan, Avery thought. He didn’t want to ask because he didn’t want to know more about Levi as a person.
“You were sure willing to risk it. What was the point of the crowbar if-? No… Wait, nevermind,” Avery said. “I don’t need to hear your excuses. I’m not your probation officer.” He grabbed Levi’s ass where it hung over the edge of the seat. He massaged the plump, hard muscles there. Levi threw his head back and gritted his teeth. Avery smiled at the huge man’s tension, the rolling flex of his muscles. “Have you ever been cornholed before, Levi?”
“No! I ain’t no wuss!”
“Oh good, I can’t wait to wreck it-“
“Fuck you, asshole!”
“What do you want me to stick up your ass first? A finger? A dildo? The Joybox here has a couple dildos. Let’s see, there’s a very small one, see?” He showed Levi the tiny green dildo, the size of a large thumb. “And see then you got this big black one. That’s insane.” He showed Levi that one as well, a big coal-black dildo the size of Levi’s bodybuilder forearm.
“Man, don’t you stick anything up there! That is a one-way hole, fuckhead!”
“If you don’t choose, I’m gonna assume you love big black things sliding up your ass,” Avery said. “You look like the type. I bet that ass can take some punishment.” He giggled as he rubbed that black dildo against the surface of Levi’s asshole. Levi trembled and bit his lip, his length of his spine shuddering at the sensation.
“Man, jerkoff! Fuck you!” Levi took a deep breath and sighed, his pride deflating rapidly. “The… finger… Make it your pinkie finger, man.”
“You should be nicer to me, Levi. You could be charged with attempted murder. That’ll be like twenty years in prison. You’ll take bigger things than my finger in twenty years,” Avery said. He dropped the dildo and placed his fingers right there at the smooth rim of Levi’s asshole. Levi shuddered, his ass twitching and his muscles straining against the ropes binding him. “You’re not the Incredible Hulk, Levi. You can’t snap rope just by flexing your muscles.”
“Fuck y-you!” Levi’s voice broke because Avery inserted his pinkie finger. Levi’s asshole was tight and moist, and Avery let out a long, slow exhalation right onto Levi’s broad back as he felt his own dick get rock-hard in his pants. This was turning out to be even more fun than he ever thought possible.
He slowly inserted his pinkie, then drew it almost all the way out. Levi grunted as though trying to take a shit. Avery giggled. He reached around Levi’s torso to feel his dick, and his giggle turned into a laugh as he realized how small it was.
“Was your dick always tiny? Or did the steroids do that?” Avery asked. Levi didn’t answer. He just bit his lip and hung his head low as Avery felt his shriveled balls. “Oh, that’s natural, huh? I’m sure the steroids didn’t help though.”
“Man, fuck you-” Levi yelped and stopped speaking as Avery curled his finger up inside his ass. Levi’s entire body clenched, which just made the pain worse. Levi’s face had started out reddish, but it now turned outright crimson.
“Let’s try a second finger now,” Avery said. He pushed his ring finger in next to his pinkie, but he felt resistance. He barely got the tip in and was stuck. Levi’s muscles all heaved at once as he struggled to accept it all. “You prolly think that I got a little dick cuz I’m small and skinny and I don’t use steroids. But you are wrong, Levi. I got a big piece of meat. You’re gonna take every inch of it. If you want it to hurt real bad, you keep resistin’ my fingers. I’m using my fingers to warm you up so I don’t rip your sphincter apart when we actually start. My dick is a lot bigger than my fingers.”
“Fuck you!”
“You say that a lot, but when has it ever solved anything for you?” Avery asked. He shoved his ring finger all the way in, and Levi screamed in agony. His face was bright red, soaked in a swathe of sweat, his squashed features scrunched up. Blood dried beneath his nostrils, Avery hadn’t noticed that until now — the cops must have had to rough him up to get him in jail, or maybe he had smashed his face against the chair back in front of him.
“Fuck you, jerkoff! I fight my way outta problems all the time. I ain’t a pansy-ass pussy like you!”
“Really? Cuz I’m fingerin’ your butthole like a pussy. You sure you ain’t a pussy? I’m fucking you like one.”
Levi bit his lip then as Avery smiled, Levi’s broad muscles writhing and tensing between Avery’s grip, while Avery’s other hand slipped fingers in and outta that tight hole. Levi rolled his eyes and took a deep breath. His asshole loosened then, enough that Avery could wiggle his fingers back and forth some. Each motion made Levi spasm and pull against the ropes binding him.
“Okay, are you ready to try a dildo? Or do you want to swallow some dick first?”
“I’ll bite off anything you put in my mouth, jerkoff!”
“I was hoping you’d say that,” Avery said. He withdrew both of his fingers and dropped his pants. He lined up behind Levi and put his dick right there at the entrance to his ass, which began to retighten now that it was empty. Avery took that big black dildo from the Joybox and placed it in front of Levi’s mouth. Levi kept his lips tightly sealed, so Avery just rubbed it in front of his face.
“Ugh, it smells like ass…” Levi said.
“Well, I doubt it gets cleaned that often,” Avery said.
Levi gagged, the sight of which was apparent in the rippling of his back muscles. He spat on the ground, though most of it clung to his chin or the back of the chair in front of his face. He retched and heaved. “That is fuckin’ nasty, I ain’t puttin’ that in my mouth, jerkoff.”
Then Avery rammed his dick in, all the way up Levi’s ass, without a word of warning. A howl came outta Levi, who clenched down right away. Just the tip got in before Avery was unable to go any further. Avery sighed and leaned his head against Levi’s smoothly-muscled back.
The tip was enough. Levi’s ass squeezed and massaged Avery’s cocktip.
“Oh, Levi…” Avery removed a clothesline clip from the Joybox. He placed it on Levi’s nose, and it squeezed tight. His gasps of pain were nasal now, but still booming on account of his deep voice. The surprise made him loosen his ass for a moment, and Avery shoved the rest of his dick in all at once, pushing past Levi’s resistance. Levi gasped and groaned. He spat again, still unable to spit forcefully, so he just let saliva drool past his lips.
With the clip forcing his nostrils shut, Levi was unable to prevent himself from opening his mouth. As soon as he did, Avery shoved the black dildo in until Levi gagged violently. His asshole clenched around Avery’s dick.
As Avery worked his dick in and out, he made sure to grind it in deep, hitting every corner of Levi’s insides. Levi screamed around the dildo in his throat, but all he could do was make muffled grunting noises.
“Oh, Levi… If you beg me to use lube, I’ll use lube,” Avery said. He withdrew the black dildo to give him a chance to speak.
“Fuck you, pansy! I’ll never submit,” he said, choking on his own words. Tears twinkled in his eyes, and he was overcome by a chorus of gags before he even finished speaking.
Avery smiled. Again, he was glad that Levi was being less than cooperative. He grabbed a strappy mouthguard from the Joybox. He hadn’t known what it was for at first, but now he had it figured out. It was like a horse’s bit, it dug into his gums whenever he tried to close his mouth. That forced his jaws apart and kept him from closing them in the slightest.
Levi tried to spit, but the mouthguard straps clipped together behind his head. There was nothing he could do. With his mouth pried so far apart it looked like it must be hurting his jaws, Levi was unable to resist as Avery deep-throated him with that dildo.
He rammed it in over and over, cackling as Levi gagged each time as though he was surprised. Levi again tried to flex his muscles like he could shatter the ropes binding him that way, but of course all that happened was his asshole clenched and massaged Avery’s dick, sending waves of pleasure up his body. Levi didn’t seem to realize that the more he struggled, the more intensely blissful it felt to Avery.
Then he pulled the dildo out, and removed his dick from Levi’s ass. A wordless cry came from Levi’s propped-open mouth.
“Oh this is gonna be fun,” Avery said. He switched the dildo and his dick, starting by pushing the huge black dildo past Levi’s sphincter. Levi screamed, eyes bugging out as he wordlessly heaved through his open mouth.
The dildo didn’t really go in, not past the first centimeter or so. It was just too wide. Avery was disappointed, but he decided to keep working at it.
Meanwhile, he placed the dildo beneath Levi’s ass so he still felt it, and then used his muscular back and shoulders to awkwardly climb the back of the chair. He wedged himself between Levi’s face and the chair-back, which put Avery’s dick right at mouth height.
Since he had been facing the jail cell wall, this was the first time Avery got a good close-up look at Levi’s face. He was really unattractive, Avery realized, not really “ugly” per se, but crude, like a caveman, with a squashed nose and boxed ears, like he had been in a lot of fights. He was missing one of his front teeth.
He flailed and gurgled as Avery swiped his ass-covered cockshaft over Levi’s face. He made sure to get all that assjuice sticking to his nose. Levi’s cheeks were bright red even before Avery slammed his dick into Levi’s throat. A violent retch reawakened the pleasure flowing through Avery’s body.
He gripped Levi’s shaved head and held on as he pounded his dick in and out, all the way down Levi’s gullet. Not many men could deep-throat Avery’s entire dick, and those who did needed to work up to it — they couldn’t really do it consistently. But Levi’s mouth was forced as wide as it could go, and his throat had no ability to keep Avery’s dick from forcing itself in. Even as his throat squeezed and spasmed, Avery rammed it in hard.
“Keep your eyes open, bitch,” Avery said. He used his fingers to pry Levi’s eyelids open. His eyes fluttered as his face turned red, demanding oxygen. Avery kept going though, holding on with his dick blocking Levi’s airway. He was shocked at how easy it was — with Levi’s muscles all tied to that chair, and his mouth stuck open, Avery could stay there, occupying his throat until he jizzed right into his stomach. He could watch Levi suffocate all day, but he didn’t. He pulled out and smiled at Levi’s hoarse gasping.
“That was some nice dome,” Avery said. “But I’m gonna cornhole you some more. I want my dick to be nice and assy when you taste it again.” He climbed down behind Levi once again. He pulled the mouthguard off.
“You sick… jerkoff… freak,” Levi said between gasps for air.
“You still tried to kill me, over a traffic dispute,” Avery said with a sorrowful shake of his head. “I think I still come on out on top in the morality scale. I bet that wasn’t the first time you beat someone up due to a case of road-rage, was it?”
“Fuck you,” Levi said, but the fight had gone out of him. He sounded less angry than resigned. He twitched a moment later as Avery rammed his dick back in, and he seethed through his clenched teeth. “I gots a temper, so what? What’s it to you? I’m a real man, pansy! I kick any bitch’s teeth in if he do me wrong.”
“How’s that plan workin’ out for ya?” Avery asked. He felt intense pleasure rolling through his body as he plowed Levi hard. Levi jerked and spasmed, the pain not getting any better, it seemed, presumably because Avery didn’t use any lube aside from Levi’s own spit.
“Fuck you…” Levi said, but he said it softly, like he knew he had been beaten.
Avery pulled out and pushed one of the little dildos in this time, because he wanted it to stay in. Levi harshly inhaled and held his breath — the dildo was very cold. His asshole clenched around it.
Once again he applied the mouth guard, even as Levi begged him not to. “I’ll do it, I swear, I won’t bite-” But that was all he got out before Avery put the mouthguard on. He didn’t believe Levi’s promise at all, though he appreciated that Levi was trying.
This time he had cornholed Levi’s ass even longer, so his dick was smeary with creamy assjuice, flecked with specks of juices and ass-sweat. Avery made sure to display his dick in front of Levi’s eyes and nose, so he knew exactly what he was about to taste.
Then he pushed it in. As he did, Levi’s throat squeezed yet again, and Levi’s eyes slammed shut. Avery had to pry them open yet again. That was okay with him — he rather liked it. He threw his head back and moaned.
A surge of disappointment hit him because Avery realized that he was about to cum. He might have been able to hold off even longer, but that didn’t seem sporting, Levi had submitted, and now that it was nearly over, he had lost all of his arrogance. He was begging for mercy, and he hadn’t called Avery a jerkoff in a few minutes.
He gripped Levi’s cauliflower ears and held on tight. His balls slapped against Levi’s chin as he thrust his hips back and forth. Each time he did, his dick slammed through Levi’s violent gag reflex, and then when he withdrew on the backthrust, a torrent of spit and bile spilled out. It flowed over the wooden chair, sticking to it and making Avery wonder how many men’s fluids were on this chair — he had a feeling the cops used it every time they brought the Joybox out, and they probably never cleaned it.
When he finally felt his orgasm approach, Avery pushed his dick all the way in, so Levi’s flattened, oft-broken nose smashed into the meat of Avery’s shaved crotch. His balls rose up in their sac where it lay pressed against Levi’s chin.
Levi’s eyes bugged, frantically darting to either side as though he might find some means of escape. But there was no way he could move, he just submitted and turned red as cum flowed down his throat.
The most intense orgasm of Avery’s life hit him. He groaned and grunted. He rutted and squealed, snorting while he rode Levi’s spasming face.
He shot a huge load that poured into Levi’s gullet. Levi coughed and sputtered, face now a bright red as his eyes begged for oxygen. But Avery kept ahold of his face with both hands, smiling. He spat right on Levi’s nose.
Finally he withdrew his limpening dick, and Levi sputtered. Cum flew all over the chair back and he spat up a gigantic ball of saliva, a fist-sized droplet that landed with a plop on the chair. Moisture was smeared all across Levi’s broad chest.
Levi went limp as he sobbed. Avery was relentless though. He forced Levi to lean his head back, then Avery dropped both of his hairy balls in Levi’s mouth. Levi hadn’t even gotten his breath back yet, so he hoarsely gasped around the scrotum in his mouth.
At last it was over; Avery’s dick was as limp and spent as it had ever been. Avery pulled his balls out, then used some wetwipes he found in the Joybox to clean himself off. He didn’t clean off Levi, who heaved for breath the entire time. It wasn’t until Avery was putting his clothes back on that Levi managed to speak.
“Please… take the dildo out of my ass,” Levi said.
“Oh… I forgot about that one,” Avery said. “I’ll take it out if you promise to clean it with your tongue.”
“Fine, whatever. Please… I’ll do anything you want,” Levi said. Tears streamed down his cheeks, from both lack of oxygen and relief that it was finally over.
Avery pulled the dildo out, and Levi’s entire body went limp. His muscles sagged as he stopped fighting against the ropes binding him. Avery didn’t wait for him to open his mouth, he just shoved the small green dildo in. Levi accepted it easily, even as his tongue tasted the slimy assjuice and his throat retched all over again.
Avery walked away with Levi there, fighting, but not against his ropes anymore. He tried to stop himself from gagging on the dildo instead, taking a deep breath then trembling as he submitted to the reaction. He gagged violently, then tried to pause and regain control over himself.
But Avery was done. He no longer felt like the weak, pitiful victim he had been earlier in the morning. He watch Levi’s contortions and walked out of the cell. He slammed the prison door shut behind himself as he whistled, heading for the front of the police station. “Have a nice day, Levi,” he called out behind himself. “Drive safely!”