Tag: risk

The Dumbass

Avery runs into a handsome dumbass at a store, only to realize he’s got an opportunity for rough trade. This lovable idiot just wants some dough, and he’s willing to give Avery a taste of his slacker-jock meat!

Read it now as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Avery was at Randall’s Candles. He was in Martinsburg for a wedding, and he needed a nice present. The woman getting married loved candles. Avery thought he might find some sort of ultra-luxury candle, or maybe a candle-making kit, but he found nothing of the sort.
What he did see was a tall, broad-shouldered man walk in. He was scruffy, thick-bodied, strong without quite being muscular. He looked rather like a frat boy, but Avery got a strong whiff of dumbness in him and suspected that he did not go to college (or if he did, it was on an athletic scholarship). His face was round and cute enough, not a babyface, just round like the sun, like a sexy Winnie the Pooh. His smile was crooked and everpresent and reeked of idiocy.
Sexy but not handsome, not by a long shot. If he cleaned up, he might be handsome. He had a good body though. Definitely not a six-pack, which was not a problem for Avery. He appreciates a man with a meaty physique. This dark blond man was more of an eat-cereal-for-dinner guy, quite possibly an eats-cereal-with-beer-instead-of-milk kind of guy.
The man’s loudly sniffed one of the candles. He put it in his arms, then grabbed another. His deep bass voice rang out. “This one smells like mango… What’s chut-ney?! Oh, I like this one!”
“Hey, Jimmy,” said the employee, a portly Goth-adjacent woman with dyed black hair, a dour face and a ‘Gina’ nametag. She rolled her eyes and gritted her teeth.
“Hi Gina, did you get any new ones in? I need my usual shipment,” he said. Jimmy looked at Avery and nodded. “‘Sup, hey.”
“Hi,” Avery said. He blushed. He wasn’t expecting to see such a handsome young man in here. The scented-candle shop usually had an exclusively female clientele, despite the name suggesting a man owned it. (There was no “Randall” behind Randall’s Candles though.) “Lemme guess, you’re buying something for your girlfriend? Who’s… an English major?”
“Ha, no, good guess though, my last girlfriend was an English major. She was into poetry and like books and stuff.” He frowned and made a thumbs-down gesture. “She dumped me though.”
“Sorry, man,” Avery said as sympathetically as he could manage.
He shrugged and said, “She dumped me because of inconsiderateness and not being… not saying things when she was… like, upset. Or whatever. Or not, like… sometimes, saying too much. Like, she said I didn’t get it or even, uh… it was about listening too much. Or not enough.” As he talked he tapped on the counter, waiting for Gina to return.
“So, do you really have a ‘usual shipment’?” Avery asked. “You must buy a lot of candles.”
Jimmy blushed and bit his lip. His tapping on the counter gradually turned into full-scale drumming, but it stopped as he turned red. “I just like candles. I like… I read this book — or, my other ex-girlfriend did, really. But she showed me all the good parts, I read them, the parts that she showed me, I did, I read it all,” he explained this in a rush like Avery was going to scold him for not doing his own work. “It was about smelling, and how it has an effect on stuff. Like if you smell something, something happens. You know? Like, in you. It happens in you. It’s like, good for… you. So, she made me put on a pine-forest candle when I worked out. She said it was good for physical… for getting your pump on. Like exercise. Or whatever. So I did it and then she dumped me because I wanted anal too much and my dick was too big. And I liked the forest thing when I work out, it does help me lift more, you know. Or whatever. My coach kept track of my workouts back when I was in college, and he said it was better, cuz I was doing the lifting and all. Aerobic exercise too.” He blinked. “Hey, sorry, I shouldn’t have said that part about fucking her in the ass.” He smiled. “I mean… having sex with her in her ass.” He cocked his head to the side. “I mean, having sex with her in her butt.” He smiled broadly as if expecting a medal for that.
“That’s okay,” Avery said. He was still dumbstruck by how cute Jimmy was, and Jimmy talked so fast it was hard to get a word in.
“Man, I like girls, and, um… boobs. You know about boobs? Boobs are awesome.” He looked into the back and saw Gina coming back to the front. She had a box of forest-scented candles.
“Sorry, Jimmy, the price on these went up,” Gina said. “Just a dollar though. The Homelife Essence series, they raised the price on all of them.”
“Again? The price keeps going up,” Jimmy said with a frown. He sighed and counted out his cash.
“Wait, Jimmy, let me,” Avery said. He handed over his credit card.
“Really? Awesome! Can I get one of those mango chutney ones?!” He was already running back to the shelf to get it. “Do you know what chutney is? Is it food?”
“Yes, it’s like… it’s just chopped up fruit, in a sauce.”
“What’s it smell like?”
“Usually just a bunch of spices and stuff.”
“So you can eat it?” Jimmy said as Gina rang up the candles.
Avery paused, unsure how stupid Jimmy actually was. “… Not the candle,” Avery said. “Actual chutney, yeah. It’s food. Don’t eat the candle.”
“Wow, I wonder what chutney smell is good for? Aroamingtherapy, that’s what you call it. Do you know? Do you think it’ll make me better at X-Box?” Jimmy asked. He was again shifting his weight back and forth like a hyperactive teenager (though he was clearly well into his twenties).
“Maybe,” Avery said. He caught a glimpse of Gina, who was politely bagging up Jimmy’s candles with a morose grimness to her face.
“So, why are you buying candles for me, man? Thanks a lot, by the way. Thanks. Thanks… Thank you. Thank you, sir.” He spoke with increasing seriousness every time he repeated himself. “Thank you.” He gave a bow. “My good sir.”
“No problem, Jimmy, glad to help. I actually have something you could do to earn some money,” Avery said. “I have a job for you, if you’re interested.” He walked out of the shop with Jimmy, who carried his scented candles.
“Oh cool, I need a new job, I hate delivering pizzas. Lemme call my boss and tell him to fuck off. He’s a prickface-“
“No, no-“
“He called his wife a bitch, which I think is wrong. I mean… it’s right, she is a bitch. But you’re not supposed to say that if you’re married to her. And he called Frankie a retard, which is totally not okay because he is a… He has… He’s messed up. It’s okay to call people retards if they’re not.” He paused. “I mean, I think you’re not supposed to do that either. But you’re really really not supposed to call actual retards retards.” He pulled out his phone. “Frankie’s hilarious anyway, he-“
“Jimmy, wait, don’t quit-“
“Hang on, I’m calling my boss. What’s this job you’re hiring me for?” He put the phone to his ear.
Avery could hear it ringing. “Wait! Jimmy, stop!” He grabbed the phone from him and hung up. “Jimmy, shut up, Jesus, listen to me for a minute. I’m not offering you a job. I’m offering you a one-time thing. It’ll take a couple hours, and then I’m leaving. Don’t quit your job. Christ, were you really going to quit because a stranger offered you a job? I didn’t even tell you what the job was or how much it paid.”
He blushed and smiled. “Oh yeah. It’s not a video game developer? That’s what I want to do. That’s what I was hoping for.” He looked genuinely surprised. Jimmy grinned. “They said you have to know about computers though.”
“Yeah, you have to know about computers,” Avery said, rolling his eyes. They were out of the mall now, in the parking lot. Jimmy said he walked to the mall today, so they went to Avery’s car.
“Or a stuntman. I think I’d be a good stuntman. See?” Jimmy flopped onto the ground and rolled back and forth like he was on fire. He screamed so loud he attracted attention from everyone else in the parking lot. Then he jumped to his feet and brushed gravel off his chest. “See? That was me on fire.”
“Cool, Jimmy. That’s neat. No, I’m not offering you a job as a stuntman.”
“So what is it? What is the job?” Jimmy finally asked. Avery couldn’t believe it had taken this long for him to actually ask what the job was. Avery wasn’t trying to hide it, Jimmy just kept talking, and Avery didn’t interrupt him. Avery unlocked his car, and Jimmy sat in the passenger seat.
“Wait… Jimmy… Just for future reference, when someone offers you a job, you should ask what that job is before you get in that stranger’s car,” he said. “And you should consider not getting in the car.”
“How else would I get the job? Should I ride on the roof? My uncle let me do that once when I was a kid. It was awesome. A ladybug flew up my nose. I think it’s still in there.”
Avery sighed. Jimmy was lucky he was cute. Avery didn’t want to sound threatening, so he didn’t explain his concerns in any detail. It was clear Jimmy would remain a fool for the time being regardless. “No, Jimmy. You’re fine. Just be careful, okay? Not everyone is as nice as me. Where do you live?”
Jimmy gave him directions, and he talked the whole way there. It wasn’t far. Avery parked outside a dingy apartment complex near a Taco Bell but not a good Taco Bell. Inside was a typical bachelor pad. It smelled like dirty clothes. There was a TV and a mattress, both on the floor. The trash can by the bed was filled mainly with used condoms and empty beer cans. A street sign reading Twitman Avenue was mounted on the wall — Jimmy later explained that he thought it said Twatman when he was drunk and didn’t realize until the morning that there was no joke there. Most of the living room was taken up by a bench press and free weights scattered around the floor.
“Do you wanna play X-Box?” he asked, running to the console like a kid on Christmas Day. He stopped himself. “Oh, wait, what’s this job? Do I need to wear nice clothes? I have a button-down shirt but there’s a stain on it that looks like pee. It’s not pee, it’s… well, I don’t know the polite word for it. Vaginajuice, I guess? Is that a word? Vagina pee?”
“Vagina pee is just pee, Jimmy.”
“Oh, yeah, I always forget women pee out of there.” He giggled like a schoolboy. “The thing about vaginas-“
“Stop talking about vaginas, Jimmy,” Avery said with a sigh. He watched as Jimmy lit a candle. The room filled with the scent of nuts and milk. Avery smiled. “I-“
“These are chestnuts. It’s a chestnut-eggnog candle. I think chestnut is a funny word, it makes me laugh every time I say it. I think its roaming therapy effect is… it makes me horny, but that’s probably not right. Oh wait, sorry, I mean… is that offensive? It makes me want girls. I think its roaming therapy is that it makes you wanna do it with hot chicks.” Then he blurted out, “With tits!”
“Jimmy…” Avery said. “Have you ever jacked off with a man? Or, y’know… cum in a guy?”
He had to be blunt to sneak the question in before Jimmy went off on another tangent. Jimmy cocked his head to the side like he didn’t understand the question. “What? No… Just y’know, pussy. Vagina, I mean. Vaginas. You know about vaginas, right?”
Avery narrowed his eyes to slits. “I’ve heard of them.” He sighed. “I’ll give you five hundred dollars to put it in my ass. You can do it real hard, as hard as you want. And I’ll swallow your dick deeper than any girl.”
Jimmy didn’t respond. For the first time — possibly ever in his life — he was speechless for a long time. He blushed a deep, dark red. “Are you serious? Five hundred dollars!” He jumped up and down. “Wait… Are you serious? You want…?” He was barely able to contain his glee. “But wait… is that allowed?”
“What?”
“Like… won’t I get in trouble?”
“For messing around with me? No. It’s just like jacking off.”
“But you’re not… Isn’t that like… I dunno, racist or something?”
“How would that be racist?”
“Not racist, but, I don’t know… intolerant, or something? Is it okay?” His eyes were bugged out. His face was as red as a cranberry.
“Yes, Jimmy. It’s fine. You don’t have to tell anyone at all,” he said.
Jimmy thought for a long time. “I don’t… I don’t know if I can-“
“You can look at pictures of hot chicks while you do it.”
His eyes lit up. “Really?! Oh, wow, okay then. Sure. I’ll do that. No problem. I mean… what if…? You know, I don’t know if… What if I don’t…? Or if I can’t…?”
“You’ll get hard, Jimmy, don’t worry,” Avery said.
He took a deep breath. He looked more and more nervous with every passing moment, like he had agreed just thinking about the money and now wasn’t sure if he could do it. “Can they be Asian chicks?”
“Yeah. Take off your shirt,” Avery said.
He did so. He laughed. His face was red, as was his chest. Avery didn’t mind — there was nothing more arousing than a nervous alpha. Jimmy had an amazing body. It wasn’t perfect by any means, he had a few pounds of padding on his belly (he was tall enough that he still had a flat stomach, just no six-pack) and a generally meaty build. But he clearly worked out a lot, and his body brimmed with powerful muscles.
He laughed more as Avery kissed his nipple. His pecs rippled beneath Avery’s tongue. His rolling laughter made it difficult for Avery to suck on his muscle, but Avery enjoyed chasing his body with his tongue. His thickness jiggled every time he moved.
“Hey, wait a sec, oh holy shit…” Jimmy mumbled to himself. He went into his bedroom and came back out with a handful of erotic magazines. He sat on the bench press and flipped through one until he found a picture of a sexy Asian woman spreading her legs. He sighed. “Ah, yeah, okay.” He showed Avery. “I like Asian chicks,” Jimmy said. “Is that okay? And I appreciate the culture. Like the tits. Diversity.”
“Fine with me,” Avery said and kneeled in front of him. He touched Jimmy’s dick, which twitched and which made Jimmy’s whole body spasm and shake. Jimmy gasped. He leaned back to give Avery better access to his crotch. His dick twitched in Avery’s grasp.
Then he leaned all the way back and laid onto the bench press, like he was going to work out. He had his magazine in hand, holding it above his head. He gripped it tightly and stared at it like it was a liferaft and he was drowning.
Avery pulled his jeans down and whistled at sight of Jimmy’s massive cock. He wasn’t kidding about it being too big for anal (for most girls, not for Avery, of course). He gave it a stroke and Jimmy laughed again. Jimmy watched his cock throb in Avery’s hand as though it was an action film and he was eager to see how it ended.
His cock perked up as Avery licked it and slathered spit overtop it, letting saliva run down the spongy shaft. It pulsated and firmed up in seconds when Avery really got to slurping on the knob, while his hands gently stroked the sensitive skin of his ballsac. Jimmy had huge hefty balls that felt perfect in Avery’s grip. Soon his shaft was as hard as Jimmy’s muscles, and it throbbed atop Avery’s tongue.
A cacophony of sounds escaped from Jimmy’s mouth. He kept his eyes tightly focused on the magazine, but he gurgled and grunted, moaned, sputtered, laughed and coughed all at once. He glanced down once his dick got hard, then muttered, “Oh god…” and held a tight focus on the magazine. His chest rippled. “Hmmm…”
Once he was good and hard, Avery pulled off his dick, smacking his lips as he savored the first few drops of precum. Jimmy sighed and laughed some more. One of his arms gripped the magazine, the other flailed uselessly over his body — it looked like he had an urge to touch Avery’s head, to guide him up and down, but he didn’t want to touch a man.
He mounted Jimmy, who grunted and lowered the magazine so that it literally covered his face. Then he gagged and dropped it. “Oh, man, I forgot I nutted all over that like a million times. Tastes like cum. Oh man, that smells so nasty.” He covered his face with one forearm, laughing so hard he turned red.
“So do all girls tell you your cock is too big for anal?” Avery asked as he lowered himself onto Jimmy’s dick.
Jimmy bit his lip and bucked. His hands fluttered above his chest, then grabbed the bench press beneath him — the bench was much narrower than his body, so it was awkward and it forced his muscular chest upwards, off the bench. Jimmy laughed and blushed. “Yeah. Yeah. Most girls won’t do it, at least not more than once.” He was about to add something else, but then moaned violently. His cock slid the rest of the way into Avery’s ass. “Oh god, that feels good… Just like a girl, kinda…” His eyes bugged out, and he kept his hands behind his head.
Avery grunted. He was momentarily overcome by pain and pressure in his ass. He struggled to accept it, and his ass gradually loosened. He swayed back and forth, making Jimmy gasp and sputter all over again.
Avery lifted himself up and slid back down Jimmy’s cock. Jimmy responded like he was tied up and had to struggle against the ropes. But of course he wasn’t tied up, the only reason he struggled was that Avery was atop him and Jimmy didn’t want to touch Avery, so there was nowhere to put his hands. Jimmy put his hands on the bench press beneath himself instead.
His muscles rippled beneath Avery’s touch. Jimmy responded like he was ticklish to Avery’s fingers rubbing his muscles — though it was hard to tell if Jimmy was laughing at that, or just generally laughing, since he hadn’t really stopped since his dick got hard, or since the candle shop, really. Laughter seemed to be his default state. He looked down at his body slick with Avery’s saliva and nervous sweat and watched his cock disappear into Avery’s asshole.
“Oh god, man, I can’t believe… Hey does this mean I’m a gigolo?” Jimmy asked. He covered his eyes again.
“Not technically,” Avery said, his voice tight and pinched as he accepted Jimmy’s massive manhood within him. “A gigolo gets paid by a woman for sex.”
“Do you know any women who…?”
“No. Sorry,” Avery said, orgasmic feelings welling up within him and making it hard to answer. “I think gigolos are fictional.”
“Can I tell people you were a woman?”
Avery smiled, closing his eyes briefly as wafts of pleasure spread up his body from his sensitive ass. Jimmy had no idea how much his cock was stimulating Avery’s prostate, making him writhe atop Jimmy’s rod. Avery’s hands explored the muscles of Jimmy’s chest. “I guess. But you could always do that, Jimmy.”
“What?”
“You could have made up a woman paying you for sex anytime. You could have made that up yesterday. You don’t need me to make that okay,” Avery said. His voice wavered and broke, as bliss flowed through his veins. His own cock throbbed in his hand.
“Oh. Yeah. I guess so. But this way, maybe people will believe me,” Jimmy said.
Avery didn’t see the logic of that, but he didn’t want to argue about it. He just said okay and kept riding his dick. Jimmy was on the verge of orgasm too. His veiny cockshaft pulsated in Avery’s ass.
“Hey do you know Terry?”
“What?”
“He’s my neighbor. He’s weird,” Jimmy said. He blushed even deeper red — Avery got the feeling Jimmy responded to anxiety (and everything else) by talking, that was why he was rambling. Jimmy frowned. “He always looks at me… Do you think he’d pay me too? I could do this again. He’s kinda… old. He’s like forty.”
“I don’t know him, Jimmy. You could ask. He might do it,” Avery said. “Now be quiet so you can cum.”
After a pause, Jimmy said, “I can cum when I talk. I talk a lot during sex. My girlfriend said I talk too much-“
“You do. She was right. Hush,” Avery said, his eyes closed, both hands massaged Jimmy’s flexing pecs. “If you’re gonna talk, it’s gotta be dirty talk.” He wanted to explain further and get Jimmy to do some dirty talk — he got the feeling Jimmy would giggle through it, but it would be fun to try. But the pressure and incipient orgasm in his ass made it impossible to focus.
“Oh, right. Like this…” He cleared his throat. “Oh, god, baby, yeah…” He kept laughing through his “dirty-talk”, which ruined the dirtiness of it.
Then, as though he was utterly shocked by it, Jimmy orgasmed. His laugh cut off in the middle, and his muscles all tensed at once. His face was tight and pinched like he was in agonizing pain. He looked at Avery for the first time since this had begun.
Avery climaxed too, shooting his load into the palm of his hand, some of it spilling onto Jimmy’s chest. A giant wad of cum filled up his ass, spraying jet after jet of creamy hot cum into his insides. Avery squirmed and gasped, his hands caressing Jimmy’s taut muscles.
Their simultaneous orgasms lasted what felt like forever to Avery. He loved getting plowed by straight boys. There was nothing better, he thought as he exulted in the unkempt scent of Jimmy’s body and the feel of his sticky cum seeping into Avery’s flesh. Jimmy shot a huge load, his whole body shaking, hair flying back and forth like a shaggy dog drying itself.
“Hell yeah…” Jimmy said with a tight grunt. He screwed up his eyes when he saw Avery’s cupped hand, in which he caught his own jizz, overflowed, meaning Avery’s cum coated Jimmy’s belly and ribs. “Ewww…” Jimmy said, but he was still moaning from the sensations in his cock too, as he spewed his last few drops of jizz up Avery’s guts.
Finally it was done. To tease Jimmy, Avery remained on his cock, shifting his hips back and forth. Every motion sent a wave of staggering pleasure through Jimmy’s body, making his muscles ripple, his scruffy hair tremble, his upper lip shake. Jimmy groaned, his face remaining a bright red dappled with sweat.
Jimmy opened his mouth to say something, but all that came out was a wordless moan. Avery giggled. He bent down and kissed each of Jimmy’s nipples, then pulled off his dick. Jimmy sighed grandly, his whole body spasming at Avery’s touch, and he limply flopped onto the bench press beneath him.
“Thanks, Jimmy. That was really hot…”
Avery looked for some tissues to clean himself and Jimmy with, but there were none in the living room. He found some paper towels in the kitchen. He couldn’t help but peer into the refrigerator too — it was a standard bachelor fridge, nothing but condiments, beer, hot dogs and leftover pizza. Avery slipped another fifty dollar bill in the fridge and added a note that read use this to buy real food, Jimmy. He left it unsigned, figuring Jimmy would probably think it a message from God.
He went back out to the living room. Jimmy’s body gleamed with sweat, but he had wiped the jizz off himself with his tee shirt, which now lay on the floor. He was limp all over, half-asleep. He grumbled when Avery wiped his dick off with a moistened paper towel. He lifted his head enough to watch Avery handle his meaty shaft, then laid back down.
He seemed to have totally forgotten about the money. Avery could have just walked right out. But he didn’t. He placed five hundred dollar bills on Jimmy’s pecs.
“Bye, Jimmy. Good luck.”
He lazily lifted one hand to wave goodbye. “Later, dude. Come by and see me again sometime.”

The Cholo

Anthony works for a cartel but only in a technical capacity. He’s not a cholo himself, but he does wind up spending the night in a hotel room with one! That means Anthony is in for a night he’ll never remember, as this alpha male ex-con craves a tender touch that Anthony is eager to provide…

Can Anthony handle his bedmate’s unbridled machismo?

Read it now as an ebook!

Or read the whole thing here!

Anthony was glad to be treated like a real Latin Kings cholo now, not just a hanger-on of his brother — his brother Chuy was a high-ranking Latin King. But nowadays, he was helping the cartel’s front business with its computer system, so maybe he was a high-ranking Latin King too. Or at least a ranking one. Computer geeks weren’t really a part of the normal promotion system.
But he had a reputation as a good, loyal soldier of sorts. He was as much a bona fide cartel member as any of the other cholos and vatos could be. They showed him respect, and the lower on the totem pole they were, the more respect they showed, cuz they didn’t know who he was or how important his job was.
It was that reputation as a loyal worker that got him into the security detail for a wedding near the end of the year. Anthony didn’t know any of the people getting married — it was some bigwig señor’s daughter, who married a cholo from the cartel — but he was assigned to security for the event. Mainly, they wanted him to manage the wifi and the cybersecurity for the wedding, since they were quite sure that the law enforcement agencies of at least two countries would have undercover operatives there.
That was why Anthony was at the wedding of two strangers, dressed awkwardly in an ill-fitting suit, alongside a macho named Tejón, a muscle-bound, scar-faced cholo who made Anthony’s whole body quake with both fear and desire. Neither he nor Anthony had a tailored suit like the upper-class cartel leaders who filled the church’s pews.
Tejón was terrifying, to Anthony at least. To everybody else he was invisible. Anthony held his breath whenever Tejón was around — which was pretty much all the time, since he was guarding Anthony.
Before the actual service, Anthony did another quick last-minute review of the wifi and the server for the house.
He found an anomaly on the server. It was impossible to know for sure if it was just a faulty setting on the device, or if it was a relic of some sort of tap-and-trace software that had been installed. It was impossible to keep a wedding like this low-key — the bride’s main desire was for it to be big and public and highly visible — so the guests had all been told to use only their clean, crime-free cell phones. Most people hadn’t even brought one, which Anthony thought was probably wise.
Could have been the FBI trying to get a tracking signal from somebody’s phone. Could have bene another cartel, or the Chinese the Latin Kings did business with.
Anthony worked alongside the other security guys, all of whom were big tough ex-con cholos like Tejón. Most of them did prison time, and Anthony assumed Tejón did too. Those tattoos didn’t look professionally done. Anthony was a thin, reedy man, so he didn’t fit in with them. He looked out of place, and he felt even more out of place than he looked.
Luckily the rest of the wedding went off without a hitch. For a moment it looked like the bride might not show up, and Anthony wondered if this wedding was about to turn bloody, because the groom was getting angry.
But then at last the bride-to-be appeared. She looked radiant in her dress, which was more revealing than Anthony had thought any wedding dress could ever be. Her tits barely fit in it. She looked like the world’s most expensive prostitute, which he strongly suspected was the case. Or at least, she wanted everyone to think she was.
The wedding was over as quickly as it had begun. Anthony watched from the patio, but he couldn’t hear any of the words. It seemed like such a huge production, Anthony thought, for a ceremony that lasted about a minute. It didn’t even mean anything legally. All that mattered was the signing of the marriage certificate afterward. There was no officiant at this wedding, because they didn’t want to invite any outsiders like a priest. The bride and groom just signed the marriage certificate a couple days later with their priest. It was all just a big pointless formality, with the side benefit of it being a great way for the FBI to nab someone.
But Anthony didn’t explain his cynicism to any of the attendees, and he certainly didn’t say anything to Tejón, who glowered and flexed and scowled throughout the ceremony.
As the guests filed off for the reception, Anthony and Tejón headed for the hotel. Their shift was finally done. Anthony wasn’t too happy about sharing a hotel room with Tejón, who was a glowering, bullet-scarred, bull-faced man with a gruff demeanor and seemingly no ability to experience joy. He had shown no emotion during the ceremony. He looked like a cyborg carefully decorated to look like a cholo, Anthony thought.
But there was something alluring about him too. Anthony had changed into his suit with him in the bathroom and seen his powerhouse body then. Anthony only snuck a few peeks at him though. He’d never try anything. Who knows how a freak like Tejón would react?
Anthony was glad he had made it through without offending any of the cartel bosses or having to actually use the gun strapped to his waist. He had a lot less experience with violence than he had let on when he joined the Latin Kings, and he didn’t want that to become obvious in a firefight in front of everyone important. It wasn’t even what he had been hired for — he was just a computer guy — but they had insisted everyone on the security team be armed.
Now he had acquitted himself well, and so far as he could tell, nothing had gone wrong during the wedding. He was beginning to feel like a real gangsta, like he was just like everyone else in the organization. They had treated him like an outsider at the beginning of the day, but by the time the wedding was over, they treated him like one of their own.
The hotel was sumptuous and well-furnished, easily the fanciest hotel Anthony had ever stayed in. The Latin Kings rented rooms for the security guys, and Anthony couldn’t wait to get in the room and relax. He had been up since before dawn this morning, when he and Tejón had inspected the hall for listening devices.
He was so tired now that the adrenaline was no longer pumping through his veins that he didn’t realize until he and Tejón walked into their room that they had only been given a single one-bed hotel room. Tejón apparently saw that as normal and expected, but Anthony did not. He wasn’t sure if he should ask about it or if that would make him look weak.
“One bed,” Anthony murmured softly, to himself, not intending Tejón to hear.
Tejón nodded. “They do that, esé. They don’t think security needs separate beds,” he said, and he clucked his tongue. He shrugged. “It is like prison.” He licked his teeth.
“Oh. Yeah.” That did not make it better for Anthony.
“You scared to share a bed, hombre?” Tejón asked with a sneer. He took off his shirt and shoes, getting ready for a shower. He laughed at Anthony’s lack of comfort with the situation. “You prolly enjoy cuddlin’ wit’ me like a female. You look like the type. Flouncy.”
Anthony shrugged. “Whatever, esé. We’ll see if you can keep your hands off me.” He blushed. He was flouncy, he couldn’t be too upset that Tejón noticed it.
But he didn’t like to get called out like that. In any case, the broad, dark gold muscles of Tejón’s chest attracted Anthony’s gaze, and he didn’t think to look away Tejón saw him staring. His skin was marked with scars and those prison tats. He was what they might call a bugablack — very dark skin, but maybe not quite a full negro by Spanish-speaking standards. Too dark to be a mestizo though.
Tejón scoffed. He dropped his pants and boxers. He flopped his uncut cock between his finger and wiped sweat off his barrel-shaped chest, which was so thick that he overheated easily, especially underneath the suit he had been forced to wear all day. He sighed, glad to be naked finally, and headed into the shower. His powerful asscheeks jiggled up and down with each step.
Not wanting to look like he was scared of Tejón, Anthony hurried back to the room before Tejón was done with his shower. He got naked himself, so he could shower next, and he didn’t want to seem uncomfortable being naked in front of Tejón.
Cholos were like that. He’d seen it around the compound. Once there were no women around…
Well, as an avid admirer of the male physique, Anthony got quite an eyeful on many occasions at the compound. Sometimes a mouthful and often an assful too. He enjoyed visiting the compound.
Tejón came out of the bathroom on his cell phone, trying to convince his girlfriend to give him permission to fuck a whore — there were plenty hanging around the hotel. It did not sound like she was entertaining the possibility. He shouted at her in rapid-fire Spanish. Anthony caught just enough of it to understand the gist of the conversation.
Anthony frowned. The one exciting part of this wedding for Anthony, he thought, was that he thought he was going to get lots of hot cholo meat. It turned out that most of the guys working this wedding had duties nearly the entire weekend, so that wasn’t likely to happen. They were almost all here with their wives anyway. As Tejón finished his hushed conversation with his wife, Anthony headed into the bathroom for his own shower. It was warm and relaxing, and Anthony felt refreshed when he came out.
By the time Anthony was done showering, the sun was going down, and Tejón sat, still naked, on the edge of the bed, watching TV. He flipped aimlessly between the channels as Anthony dried off. He wanted to put shorts on, but he didn’t want to look more self-conscious than Tejón.
But then Anthony had been surprised by the cartel before. One of the other big machos he used to work with revealed that, when he and some buddies had been locked up, they drew straws to see which one of them had to be a bottom, and it had been him. He’d been rammed a couple times a day for most of a year before they were all released. It was widely considered okay or only mildly shameful, as long as he wasn’t pimped out to other prisoners. No one considered it such a big deal.
A punk is a man who gets bitched out to other prisoners. It was shameful to be a punk. Any other role was fine.
As the evening progress, Anthony noticed several times that Tejón snuck glances of Anthony’s smooth ass and pale thighs. Anthony wondered if Tejón’s penetrating glances were a prelude to something. He was so very naked, his big brutish body gleaming, exuding body heat that Anthony both craved and feared. Anthony was naked too, of course, but only because Tejón was first. Anthony was pale and small and thin, and he looked tiny next to Tejón, who took up most of the hotel room, it seemed like.
In the end, nothing happened that evening. Once they were both naked and watching TV, Anthony got less and less nervous. He began to think that Tejón must be naked by default — he was from Latin America, where it was very hot, so maybe he was used to being naked at home, Anthony thought. He and Tejón talked about the wedding, and Tejón complained about his girlfriend’s constant text-message nagging and her refusal to entertain the ‘fuck-a-whore’ proposition Tejón came up with. Tejón earnestly explained that it didn’t count if you were in a different country. Women have a different view of that kind of thing, which Anthony tried to explain. Tejón wanted a reason cheating didn’t count. Women want a man who wants to prove how expansive his definition of cheating is as proof of his devotion to her.
It was all anticlimactic, Anthony thought as he drifted off to sleep. He had been half-expecting the wedding to be interrupted by a hail of gunfire. If this was a movie, something would have happened. The Latin Kings had been dead set on the wedding would go off without a hitch, and they hired the professionals who could make it happen.
He and Tejón were both stark naked, sleeping on top of the covers at first. Anthony instinctually crawled under the blankets around midnight, where Tejón’s body heat was already warming things up. The air outside had gotten quite cold by then, and the air-conditioning was still on, so the inside of the hotel room became ice cold.
Anthony dreamed of a beautiful boy caressing his body. He spooned him from behind and nuzzled the back of his neck. He even fingered his ass and lower back. The warmth radiating off Tejón’s body was enveloping like a blanket, with a hot and spicy scent that made Anthony’s heart race even in his sleep.
In his dreams, Anthony moaned as that beautiful young man, a blond god, some sort of ski instructor, kissed a trail up his spine, fingers teasing Anthony’s sensitive asshole. Anthony squirmed and cried out with desire.
This smooth blond hunk, Anthony realized, was hairy. His chest was smooth but Anthony felt body hair. How did that happen?
He realized with a start that he wasn’t dreaming. It was Tejón’s hairy tattooed cholo body, grinding on Anthony from the side. His hot breath condensing on Anthony’s skin. His hard cock rubbed against Anthony’s thighs and asscheek. Tejón had woken up some time ago and was working himself into a full-fledged erection.
Or maybe he was not entirely awake. His voice sounded blearly, half-asleep, almost drunk, though he wasn’t drinking — the Latin Kings had forbidden it.
“Sssh, do you want it?” Tejón murmured, his voice baritone and echoing in Anthony’s ear.
“Hmmm… Yes!” Anthony whispered as loud as he could whisper.
“I knew it. You looked at me like you was hungry, but what you didn’t know is I’m hungry too. I’m just gonna put the tip in. It will not count. Do not fear, little pale one,” Tejón said in lilting Spanish. His arms were wrapped around Anthony’s body, so if he tightened his muscles, Anthony would be in a chokehold. “If it is in the dark, it does not count. You will still be a man.”
Before Anthony could say anything, Tejón’s dick pushed into his ass. Anthony gasped for air. The pain was so intense he couldn’t bring himself to speak, or even to cry out. The only sound that came from his lips was a sort of exhausted choking cough.
Bolts of pleasure shot up from behind. Anthony squirmed, trying to get in a more comfortable position, but he was trapped under Tejón’s heft.
This had all happened so fast. Anthony was, just moments ago, asleep.
Anthony let out a begging little moan and pushed his ass back, forcing more of Tejón’s dick into his tight body. That sent shivers of pleasure that wracked Anthony’s petite frame. He burst into sweat and let out a series of spine-tingling moans of desire, as Tejón’s cock rocked every inch of his insides. His rough hands roamed over Anthony’s body, while Anthony’s own hands clawed at and massaged the meaty muscles of Tejón’s body.
“Sssh, I will give you a reacharound,” Tejón said, his voice a slumberous groan, muffled because he had covered himself up from head to toe with a blanket. Anthony was buried beneath his warm muscles. That was probably why he had ruled it out when the lights were still on. He had meant it literally when he said it wouldn’t count in the dark. Tejón would do virtually anything with a man as long as no one, not even God, could see. “That means you are my pasivo, it is okay.”
Despite Tejón’s warning, Anthony was still shocked when the older cholo’s fingers wrapped around his cockshaft. Anthony’s dick was already harder than it had ever been, throbbing painfully at just the touch of Tejón’s callused fingertips.
“Tejón…”
“Ssh, you taste so good, my darling,” Tejón whispered as he kissed Anthony on th elips, his voice tremulously baritone, as though he was desperate to get his rocks off. “I will make it feel very good, yes, esé? You are in the cartel now. You are uno narco in this organization…” He said that as though it meant Anthony was supposed to let himself get rammed — did Tejón ram all the new cholos? The more he learned about Latin Kings, the less surprised Anthony would have been by that.
“I don’t…” Anthony was confused about what Tejón was doing, but the bliss that rocked Anthony’s body made it hard to think about it, and all Anthony wanted was to finish this. He cried out and bucked, sweating now beneath the confines of the blankets and Tejón’s heavy body.
His prostate sang, sending waves of sensations to rocket through Anthony’s limbs. His fingers tightened into claws, which dug into the soft mattress of the hotel bed. He buried his face in the cool sheets as Tejón’s hot chest pounded onto his back. The pleasure exploded in Anthony’s ass and ran up his spine. He arched his back, rubbing it against the corded muscles of Tejón’s broad chest.
As Tejón’s dick began sliding in and out of Anthony’s increasingly accommodating ass, the pain gradually diminished. Each thrust converted some of the agony of his huge cock stretching his bottom open to paroxysms of pleasure that made Anthony cry out and beg for more, the sound of which was muffled by the hotel mattress. Anthony’s back arched and a few twinges of pleasure rocked his body, moving from his sensitive asshole and up his spine.
That was enough to send Anthony towards his own orgasm. He grimaced from the pain and pressure as his cockshaft pulsated in Tejón’s hand, which stroked his manhood with tenderness and care, plus plenty of spit and precum as lube — Tejón must have learned well how to lube up with minimal supplies in prison.
Anthony bit his lip to suppress his moan of pleasure at feeling a few drops of precum inside his ass. Tejón’s cock filled him up, and it seemed to grow bigger with each daggering thrust into his insides. Each one raised Anthony to new heights of pleasure.
He didn’t know how long it took then. His ass burned, roiling with intense senations too poent for him to comprehend. It was unlike any ramrodding experience Anthony had ever had, and it made him dizzy with desire. All he could do was cry out and demand more.
The agonizing pleasure in his ass didn’t go away. It actually got worse and worse as Tejón’s powerful hips slammed his cock in and out of Anthony’s ass. Every time he did it hurt worse.
But it also felt good. It felt so good that Anthony began humping his ass backward, pushing onto Tejón’s dick in sync with his gyrations. They rammed there for an amount of time that could have been a minute or it could have been a week, Anthony didn’t know except that he didn’t recall seeing the sun come up.
Eventually it was over. Anthony shot his wad all over Tejón’s hand, while he felt creamy precum spurting up his ass from behind. Huge gobs of jizz sprayed onto the bed in front of Anthony, and the smell of it bloomed like a jungle in the air freshener-scented hotel room.
The orgasm that erupted in Anthony’s ass was so potent it made Anthony shout, loud enough that he wondered if it was audible in the next room — that was inhabited by two other cartel bodyguards, who, Anthony now realized, might be messing around right now just like him and Tejón were.
He hoped so. That was nice to imagine.
Spasms of bliss rocketed up and down Anthony’s spine. He shuddered and grunted into the pillow below beneath him, as his sticky cum spurted across the hotel bedspread. He even drooled onto the pillow, unable to close his mouth because of the outrageous pangs of pleasure that wracked his body.
Anthony had never felt anything like it. He’d gotten rammed in the dark by a lot of men and even a lot of cholos with huge cocks, but nothing had ever made him feel like this, like his whole body was going to rattle into a million little pieces of pure sensation. He gasped and bit the pillow under him.
“Toma mi pene, chico, necesito llenarte con mi hombría. Voy a disparar tanto que sale por tu nariz. Vas a estar oliendo mi esperma cada vez que te tiras un pedo a partir de ahora…” Tejón spoke softly, too quickly for Anthony to make out the words with his rudimentary Spanish — he was distracted by his orgasm anyway, but he could tell Tejón was saying dirty-talk, something about sperm, Anthony heard that. He assumed it was both dirty and romantic, and whatever it was, it made Anthony shudder with desire as he finished his orgasm at last.
He pushed back with his ass when he felt the first few drops of Tejón’s cumload finally hit his ass. He could tell it was going to be big, and he giggled with anticipation — he loved it when men filled his ass with cum.
Tejón grunted in his ear. His hairy chest dragged against Anthony’s back, as he filled Anthony with his frothy cum. He kept plowing even as his dick began to get limp, humping until his wad began to drip down Anthony’s thigh and stain the bedsheets.
Anthony was right — it was a huge load. It just kept on flowing, filling Anthony up, seeping into his flesh until he could virtually taste it from his nose to his toes. He felt Tejón’s manhood suffusing through his body, until it was all he could think about. Tejón gasped just like Anthony did, in plaintive, panty tone, like he was desperate for this orgasm, which went on as long as Anthony’s did.
Creamy wad after creamy wad flew up Anthony’s behind, each one leaving a warm afterglow of sensation deep in Anthony’s body. Tejón shot huge loads, like he had built it up in prison. Or maybe that girlfriend was blueballing him. She was likely provided by the Latin Kings and often found something better to do than take dick from the harsh-eyed scarface with the battering ram for a cock.
Poor guy… Anthony thought to himself.
At last they were done. Anthony fell limp on the bed, breathing a sigh of relief when Tejón finally pulled out of him. Tejón’s sweaty muscles remained curled around Anthony’s body, however, as though he intended to cuddle Anthony to sleep.
“Uh, Tejón?”
“Sssh, just go to sleep,” Tejón said. He rubbed his limp, gooey dick over Anthony’s asscheek.
“Oh… Well…”
“Ssh, baby, my little mamacito,” Tejón mumbled. He sounded like he was nearly asleep as he curled his biceps up with Anthony’s head in the crook of his elbow. He kissed Anthony on the cheek. “Just go to sleep.”
Anthony was so satisfied he couldn’t bring himself to move away, even though he was buried in Tejón’s overly hot flesh. He didn’t want to sleep on the floor either, but that was the only other option. He was just going to have to cuddle with this tattooed beast of a man. It was still cold in the hotel room anyway. Anthony felt warm, but he figured he would soon be shivering if he weren’t in Tejón’s arms tonight.
Besides that, he felt safe and secure in Tejón’s powerful muscles, so he was satisfied as he slowly drifted off to sleep.

Breaking Alpha

Madhu is cooking meth for a biker gang, who supply him with a bodyguard. That’s Knuckle, a terrifying brute of a man who just might have a softer side, one that Madhu is excited to explore.

Will Madhu survive alongside Knuckle’s brand of massive masculinity?!

Read it now as an ebook!

Or read the whole thing here!

Madhu Sharma was always nervous when he came to “work”. He was only just starting to see it as a job at all, but that’s what it was. He certainly didn’t enjoy doing it, and he only did it for the money. He was in desperate need of cash.
It sure felt like a job. It was only missing an obnoxious HR person to make him go on team-building workshops.
Madhu had started cooking meth because he needed money. It wasn’t his plan to make money that way. He had simply graduated with a degree in chemistry and no way to make money with it. The only people hiring a chemist were drug dealers.
He had also had nowhere to live, and the Jagged Right — a biker gang here in Smashwood Trailer Park — provided a solution to both of his problems. They gave Madhu a trailer to live in, and they paid him a weekly, tax-free stipend to make meth. He was doing better than most of the people he went to college with; they struggled to find jobs with major multinationals, while Madhu was rolling in the dough from the beginning.
It was easy, really. There was a lot to the process, but Madhu was well-practiced at it.
So Madhu was always nervous when he came to work. That simply entailed leaving his trailer and walking to the trailer next door. The trailer park was closed to outsiders, with bikers sitting by the gate to alert when visitors arrived — uninvited visitors were treated with extreme suspicion.
When Knuckle arrived, Madhu was terrified. Even as Math (the head biker in charge around here) explained, Madhu couldn’t pay attention because his heart fluttered. Knuckle was a giant, nearly seven feet tall, and built like a linebacker. He had a mean, craggy face that made him look older than he was, and his tanned skin was marked with what looked like prison tats.
“Knuckle here is gonna be your bodyguard. Don’t go nowhere without him,” Math had said, and that was it. That was the only explanation Madhu was given.
Knuckle grunted. He ignored Madhu. He went to the door to the trailer and stood there, unmoving, like a statue. He remained motionless for a few minutes, but eventually he walked around the perimeter of the trailer. He tried each of the windows, which had been sealed shut already.
Only then did he come in and speak. “What is the opening on the roof?” His voice was deep and gravelly. He was so big, with cavernous lungs, that he was hard to understand, his voice resonating and bouncing around in his body.
He wore only a sleeveless shirt, revealing a crude network of colorful tattoos. It wasn’t an “arm-sleeve”, it was more haphazard than that, but it coated his left arm and much of his right, and more tattoos — including what appeared to be a couple of weasels humping — were visible on his chest. He even had a network of camouflage designs on the side of his neck, which was so short and thick it was barely visible. He pointed up at the roof of the trailer.
“Uh… That? The ventilation system?” Madhu pointed upwards. His heart skipped a beat. “It’s, uh… ventilation.”
“It ain’t secure. Someone could get in.”
Madhu blushed. “Uh, well, maybe, but we need ventilation. These chemicals put out toxic fumes. This trailer would be a lethal gas chamber in an hour or two if you made it airtight.”
He frowned. He was quiet for a long time. He looked Madhu up and down. Knuckle furrowed his brow.
“Fine.” He frowned. “I will fix it.”
Madhu’s heart skipped a beat. Knuckle was so scary it hurt. He had an amazing body though — oh god those muscles, Madhu had to suppress a leer and a lick of his teeth. Madhu wondered if Knuckle understood that the ventilation system was absolutely required. He seemed to think Madhu was making that up, that the chemicals weren’t really poisonous.
This was not some debatable liberal agenda though, Madhu thought. If made airtight, this trailer could be used as a gas chamber to execute inmates; it was highly toxic; it would make his lungs melt if the concentration got high enough. The whole trailer could explode too. Madhu didn’t think Knuckle got that.
Sure enough, soon, Knuckle was up on the roof banging away. Madhu stepped outside. Should I confront him? Am I allowed to? Should I go to Math and complain? If he blocks up the ventilation, I’m going to die.
“Uh, Knuckle… what, uh… what are you doing?”
Knuckle came to the edge of the roof of the trailer and looked down. He scowled, then jumped to the ground. He grabbed Madhu and dragged him back into the trailer.
Knuckle grunted. He tossed Madhu into the trailer. Madhu was shocked because that had happened so fast, and because he was more than a little turned on by the feel of Knuckle’s muscles. He felt like his body was filled with writhing snakes, Madhu thought, and his sweat tasted salty and clean and delicious.
“What-?”
“You gotta stay in here, man. It ain’t secure for you to be off wanderin’ around,” Knuckle said. “When you on duty, you gotta stay in here.”
“Oh, uh… okay.” Madhu thought he should argue or leave or go get Math, but he didn’t. He was worried he’d get in trouble. He could always talk to Math about it later. Did he really even need security? He hadn’t needed this kind of security up until now.
Knuckle nodded. He again paused to look Madhu up and down, and he even licked his lips. He almost looked like he was aroused, but Madhu assumed that wasn’t it. Knuckle left the trailer and went back to the roof.
Madhu returned to his lab. The day was almost done anyway, and then he’d need to leave the reaction to catalyze all night. He was about to leave the trailer when the door opened and Knuckle walked in.
“I installed a lock. It can still ventilate,” Knuckle said, “But no one can break in.”
“Oh. Cool, okay,” Madhu said. He blushed.
“I do not want anyone to hurt you.” He glowered, sucking on his teeth and chewing his lower lip.
“Right. Thanks.” Madhu cringed, the situation suddenly too intense for him to think. Knuckle peered deep into his eyes. The aroma of his unwashed scent turned Madhu on.
He had no way of knowing that Knuckle was thinking similar things. He found his eyes drawn to Madhu’s perky young body all day. He had a delightfully feminine shape to his ass, and though his voice wasn’t obviously girlish, it was flamboyant and lilting and it made Knuckle’s dick twitch.
Madhu smiled nervously, and Knuckle’s eyes opened wide. He wanted him bad.
I could just pretend this is prison. This trailer is about the size of a prison cell. Knuckle refused to let himself consider that. Yet when he looked down at his feet, he saw that his dick was out. Did I take that out? Knuckle didn’t remember doing so, but he surely would have noticed if Madhu unzipped his pants.
“Didja take my dick out?”
Madhu gasped. “No!” He thought he might cry. What was he even being accused of? “You took your dick out like two seconds ago!”
Knuckle grunted. He stood there, not sure what he should do next. All he could think about was getting his rocks off. He hadn’t blown a nut off in what felt like forever. The funny thing was he hadn’t been horny until he saw Madhu.
Another grunt escaped from his lips when Madhu wrapped one hand around his cock. Knuckle moaned. Madhu grinned, his anxiety slowly diminishing now that it was more apparent what Knuckle wanted.
Though Madhu would have enjoyed getting rammed, he knew better than to try to push his luck. He still wasn’t even sure Knuckle was comfortable getting a handjob — he hadn’t said no, hadn’t made Madhu stop, and he was the one who took his dick out in the first place, which all seemed like pretty clear signals. But Madhu didn’t want to push his luck by trying to jerk off the brutish giant. Knuckle was terrifyingly massive, and he had that big bull head like an ape. Madhu didn’t want to do anything that might make him uncomfortable.
So he just stroked his cock to full erection — that took only a few seconds because Knuckle was unbelievably horny to begin with. Soon his dick was hard as iron, throbbing like its own living entity. Madhu could feel his heartbeat.
It twitched, and Knuckle moaned. His deep voice rang out. “Why you doin’ that?”
Madhu said softly. “Do you want me to stop?”
Knuckle growled and gripped Madhu’s hand with both of his big meaty paws. He closed his eyes and began to pump his hips, plowing Madhu’s hand with that massive manhood. His balls swayed beneath him and slapped Madhu’s side as he stroked.
It was an exhilarating experience for Madhu, exciting and frightening at the same time, like a poorly-maintained roller coaster. He moved his head closer to the dingy sleeveless shirt, and inhaled deeply of Knuckle’s musky scent. One of his hands crept up, under that shirt, massaging his belly before reaching his chest.
His pectorals twitched and flexed beneath Madhu’s touch, and Knuckle grunted. He rammed Madhu’s hand hard, like he wanted to punish it. Madhu could do little more than squeeze and hold on until Knuckle finally reached his orgasm.
“Ah….” Knuckle bit his lip as pleasure overwhelmed him, and cum sprayed onto Madhu’s leg and hand.
The smell of salty-sour cum filled the air. Knuckle gasped, and his whole hefty body leaned forward. His cock pressed against Madhu’s hip, still pulsating, spraying wad after wad up over Madhu’s shirt and even onto his chin.
“Oh-” Madhu blushed. He kept his hand in position, both of Knuckle’s hands gripping it so firmly it hurt a little. =
Finally, with cum still shooting out of his dick, Knuckle leaned far enough that Madhu couldn’t support him. He leaned against the table, then a chair, and then sunk to the floor. Knuckle grabbed the chair before he fell — which was good because he would have toppled onto Madhu, probably hurt him and possibly knocked over some of the chemicals.
“Damn…” Knuckle said. He stood, dick limpening as it still dripped a few droplets of creamy cum onto Madhu’s face.
“Hmmm…” Madhu blushed and sat up. “That was…-“
“Shut up.” Knuckle grunted. “You seduced me. That ain’t right. I ain’t into that poervert nonsense. I don’t do that. Don’t seduce me no more.”
Then he turned around and walked out of the trailer, leaving Madhu there to clean up and savor the sweet scent of Knuckle’s alpha male body. Madhu sighed.
Maybe, he thought, this job won’t be as bad as I had thought.
Madhu assumed that the handjob was going to be kept secret. Something like this could only be on the downlow, he thought. That just seemed like a reasonable guess. He didn’t even think about it. It wasn’t like he socialized with the trailer trash of Smashwood Trailer Park anyway.
But the next morning, he saw grimy rednecks — the shirtless swastika-ed perpetual drunks who spent their days searching for smokeable cigarette butts in city ashtrays — laughing at him, and making murmured jokes about Knuckle. Knuckle ignored them but wrinkled his nose a little. He remained standing at the entrance to the trailer, eyeing the addicts and dealer that came through to buy meth. He wore the same clothes as yesterday.
Since Madhu knew he hadn’t told anyone, it could only have been Knuckle.
“Freak! Ugly-ass Knuckle…”
“Who you gonna ramrod today, booty bandit?!”
The grimy rednecks (who were constantly around though Madhu wasn’t aware of any purpose here) laughed at Knuckle, but he didn’t respond in the slightest. He grimaced, his squat neck turning ruddy at first before he relaxed.
But he didn’t say anything to Madhu all day. He didn’t even look at him. It was a lonely day — the only person Madhu talked to was the clerk at the drug store where he went, Knuckle in tow, to buy more cough medicine.
Knuckle got drunk on Saturday. That was Knuckle’s day off, and Madhu’s too. Madhu spent the day in his trailer as he normally did, reading, trying not to think about his life. He heard Knuckle getting drunk all day outside. He could hear the men laughing at Knuckle too.
Knuckle’s low voice rumbled, his words slurred. But Madhu couldn’t make out his words, just the other’s response.
Madhu tried not to listen. He felt a little bad for Knuckle, but Knuckle didn’t seem to mind. He hadn’t even attempted to keep it a secret.
He was just about to go to bed when Knuckle drunkenly stumbled into his trailer. Knuckle belched loudly, his sweat-soaked body gleaming. Blood trickled from his crooked nose.
“Jzzzheeerkk meee offf.” Knuckle pulled his camo pants down, waving his dick in front of Madhu’s face. He stepped forward but toppled to the floor so hard Madhu yelped and ran to him.
“Are you okay?”
Knuckle rolled over. His massive dick was soft, blood now pouring from his nose. Madhu sighed and stopped the bleeding, while Knuckle drunkenly squirmed. He kept demanding Madhu jerk him off, but he didn’t make any effort to force Madhu’s head down.
“I’m not giving you dome when you’re this drunk. It’s gross. You’ll probably puke on me. Or pass out on me,” Madhu said. He wasn’t sure Knuckle heard or accepted that, but he didn’t argue — or if he did, he was too drunk to be clear.
It took ten minutes for Knuckle’s nose to stop bleeding — he still had a big nasty bruise on his cheek from the fall though — and then another hour and a half for Madhu to get Knuckle up into bed. By then, Madhu was exhausted. He put a glass of water on the bed next to Knuckle and climbed in on the other side.
Knuckle was out cold, like sleeping next to a big warm stone. Madhu fell asleep nuzzling his bicep, one hand resting on his meaty chest.
It was the most satisfying sleep Madhu had had in years, since before he graduated college. He didn’t wake up until early the next morning, when Knuckle slid back into bed — Madhu hadn’t awoken when he left the bed, but he did when he came back.
Knuckle was sober now. His head hurt, but he wasn’t hungover. He had never been a big drinker, and spending time behind bars meant his tolerance had gone down, so it didn’t take too much for Knuckle to pass out last night. He then showered, drank some water and ate dry bread in Madhu’s kitchen. He wasn’t drunk anymore, just a little queasy.
Now as he slid under the covers again, Madhu’s smooth fingers clutching his belly, Knuckle felt well again. He shushed Madhu — even though he hadn’t said anything — and gripped the back of his head.
“Good mornin’-“
“Shush, I said.” Knuckle guided Madhu’s head, gently but firmly, to his crotch. His dick was limp, and it smelled of spilled beer and man-sweat. Madhu inhaled deeply of it.
He picked up the shaft and kissed Knuckle’s cocktip before driving it into his mouth. He suckled on the tip. He began to get the idea of what Knuckle wanted — he wanted Madhu to resist a little. He wanted to be in charge, overcoming Madhu’s reluctance.
So Madhu pretended to have difficulty with the size of Knuckle’s cock — he didn’t have to pretend much, because it was big and extremely girthy, but Madhu had handled enough big cocks to deep-throat it. He choked and hesitated, and Knuckle clucked his tongue, pushing his head down deeper.
He covered Madhu with a sheet. It felt like he was with his prison wife again, Knuckle thought, since he couldn’t see anything but that sheet and Madhu’s writhing body beneath it, all that mattered was Knuckle and the potent pleasure coursing through his veins. He raised his hips, firmly plowing his meat down Madhu’s throat.
Despite the size of Knuckle’s cock, it didn’t hurt a bit, and Madhu even moaned around the cock as it filled his throat. Madhu tried to jack himself off, but found that he needed to use both hands to stroke Knuckle’s dick. Madhu’s own cock rubbed over Knuckle’s leg, and when Knuckle didn’t complain, Madhu began dry-humping him.
“Ugh….” Knuckle grunted and his whole body twitched. He used both hands on Madhu’s head, holding him in place as wad after wad of sweet cum flowed down Madhu’s throat.
Madhu shot his own load right onto Knuckle’s leg — Knuckle barely noticed — while guzzling down every drop of Knuckle’s own juices. It coated his belly and its body heat seeped into his flesh. Madhu gurgled, choking on the intense flow of cum down his throat.
At last, they were both done. Madhu fell limp and slid off Knuckle’s cock. He curled up next to him on the bed, kissed him on the neck and cuddled up with him.
“Thanks-“
“Shush.” Knuckle turned his head. He placed one hand over Madhu’s mouth. “No talking. I’m going back to sleep.”
The next morning, Madhu awoke happy and content. Knuckle was already awake, just waiting for Madhu to disentangle himself from his arms. Then Knuckle yawned and went to the trailer door.
That was where the officers of the Northern Florida Methamphetamine Task Force were waiting.
They streamed into the trailer, putting Knuckle in handcuffs and roughing him up. Madhu didn’t look like such a thug, so they treated him a little better, but still, he was marched out of the trailer park in handcuffs and driven away, in a different van than Knuckle was in.
So that was the end of Madhu’s foray into drug manufacture. He didn’t last very long. He would have been better off hustling for multinational jobs like his pharmacy school classmates.
Maybe it was always fated to end like this. Madhu did his part though, he cooperated with the cops arrested him, but he didn’t tell them anything. He let his lawyer do the talking. He already planned on pleading guilty. His lawyer said he’d do okay because he didn’t have a record like all the others. He would look like a nice man who had been forced into manufacturing meth.
That was small comfort to Madhu, who couldn’t hold his own in prison like the other Jagged Right could. He thought they would protect him — they said they would — but then the bikers and rednecks were all transferred from jail to prison, whereas Madhu was not seen as enough of a risk to bother. So Madhu stayed there there in jail, with no one to protect him from the legion of drunks, thugs and ruffians who came through.
His first week was bad. Madhu considered killing himself. But his lawyer had said he’d be out in a few years. He thought he could handle that. He might even be able to start a new life when he left. He thought about writing a book, maybe he could make some money on the outside as a writer.
But first, he needed to survive.
When his cell door opened and Knuckle walked in, Madhu’s first thought was that Knuckle was here to kill him. Maybe Knuckle thought Madhu would squeal, or maybe he blamed Madhu for the trailer park being busted, or maybe he just wanted to kill.
“What are you doing here-?”
“They said we gotta go on trial together. Cuz we was arrested together.” Knuckle’s gravelly voice filled the cell. The door slammed shut behind him. Knuckle came into the cell and scowled at Madhu. Madhu sat at the little writing desk in the cell, watching as Knuckle moved all of Madhu’s things from the top bunk to the bottom. “I’m taking the top bunk. That’s for real men.”
“Oh, uh… okay.” Madhu thought it was best not to fight about that. “I guess I’m glad I got you as a cellmate. I-“
“Shut up. Why you gotta talk about everything?”
“I guess… That’s just how I am.” Madhu opened his mouth to continue explaining, but he realized Knuckle wouldn’t want that. Madhu just fell quiet.
Then Knuckle began working out. He didn’t tell Madhu to move out of his way, but Madhu got the message anyway. Knuckle was so big he took up all the space in the cell. Madhu could do little more than crouch in his bunk and watch Knuckle’s massive body move.
He did push-ups until he couldn’t anymore, and then he did a series of lunges and lifts, using whatever he could find as a weight. He even made Madhu climb up on his back and hold on while Knuckle did a round of deep-knee squats.
That was what he did when the lights finally flicked out. Madhu was so surprised he almost fell off Knuckle’s back, sliding over his sweat-soaked bare flesh.
“They don’t give any warning before turning out the lights,” Madhu said. “In movies, they always announce it.”
“This ain’t a movie,” Knuckle said. Then he wrapped his big bearish arms around Madhu and plowed his tongue down his throat. He brought Madhu to the floor, his heavy body pinning him down.
Madhu squealed and squirmed out of sheer shock. He had assumed Knuckle would want dome at some point — he’d always said he didn’t do that kind of thing except in prison, which was a lie, but Madhu figured the “except in prison” part was probably not a lie. But he didn’t think Knuckle would kiss him.
“Boy, I been lustin’ for you wit’chu since I first saw you. You got pretty all over, and I wanna taste it.” Knuckle growled, slathering Madhu’s face in kisses. He moved to Madhu’s neck, which was long and slender. It felt so smooth, like porcelain, Knuckle thought. His dick twitched. It was so hard it hurt. “I been waiting for this for a long time.”
“Waiting for what?”
“Waiting to lust fo’ you. I don’t mess wit’ males outside of prison,” Knuckle said. “But in here, wit’ the lights out… That’s where lust is real.” He whispered into Madhu’s ear and sucked his earlobe. “I wanna ram you so bad, boy. Get my dick wet.”
He mounted Madhu’s chest and jabbed his rock-hard dick into Madhu’s mouth with incredible urgency, like his life depended on getting his dick in there as soon as possible. He moaned right away.
Hey keep it down in there! 37A, if you’re plowing, I don’t wanna see it or hear it and I definitely don’t wanna smell it!
“Ssssssssssshhh….” Knuckle chuckled throatily, his shushing disappearing into a baritone growl aimed right in Madhu’s ear. “We gotta be private.” He kept shushing Madhu like that even though, once again, Knuckle was the one making noise.
When Knuckle was good and hard, he slid down behind Madhu. He kissed him on the lips, sucking up all the precum and spit that clung to Madhu’s cheeks.
“Oh god…” Madhu whimpered. The bunk they shared was narrow, barely big enough for one person, much less two. But they both laid on their side, and Knuckle laid with his back flat against the cold concrete wall.
His cock rubbed between Madhu’s cheeks. Knuckle reached up to his own bunk for his sheet and blanket. The cell was cold, so he laid it out on top of both he and Madhu. Madhu snuggled deep in his arms as he finally managed to feel warm.
No fighting! Are you fighting in there?
That was about the only thing the guards would do anything about at night, so Madhu heard them scatter away from the central control area in the cell block. More grunts and bellowing could be heard too. Somone was fighting in another cell.
“I guess we can make a little noise now,” Knuckle said. His deep voice was impossibly loud, echoic in the tiny room, resonating around in Madhu’s ear. Madhu shuddered and rubbed his ass over Knuckle’s pulsating cock.
“Yeah… Will you be gentle?”
“Yes, baby, I be real gentle,” Knuckle said. He kissed Madhu on the back of the head. “I been waitin’ so long to get inside you…”
His dick slipped in, moistened and lubed by Madhu’s spit. There wasn’t a bit of pain, which astonished Madhu — Knuckle’s dick was so thick it seemed there had to be a little pain, but there was only an incredible, overwhelming pleasure.
Either Madhu or Knuckle must have cried out, because inmates in other cells all laughed, but neither were aware — Knuckle grunted and snorted as he drilled his dick in, ignoring the increasingly loud jeers from the other cells.
“I hear some marital bliss over there! Woop-woop!”
“Honeymoon!”
“Who is it? Raymont?”
“Nah, I’m spankin’ it over here, I got that big-butt magazine-!”
They all laughed until they shushed each other. The guards were involved in breaking up the fight, so the inmates in this corner of the cell block were emboldened.
But then Madhu’s pressure grew too great for him to pay attention to their words. It was all a meaningless blur of shouts and profanity, and whistle squeals, but above all that, Madhu was aware of Knuckle’s body covering him, tongue coating his face as his dick rammed in and out. Madhu’s had never been plowed as hard, but somehow he had never been rammed as easily and softly at the same time. He took it all, and his dick throbbed in Knuckle’s hand. Madhu had no way of knowing it but, for Knuckle — based on his previous prison experience — giving a reacharound was the ultimate form of intimacy behind bars. It was akin to a proposal of marriage.
Madhu didn’t know any of that, and his whole body melted in Knuckle’s arms as he reached the most intense orgasm of his life. Cum sprayed into his body, great rivers of it flowing into him. He felt it coating his insides, as Madhu shot his own load onto the floor of the cell.
“Oh god, I been beggin’ for a chance to get in that ass-” Knuckle kept his mouth open, intending to keep talking, but all that came out was a chest-rattling roar. He had never shot so much, not even with his previous prison wife.
At last, Knuckle fell limp, his heavy body resting on Madhu. For a moment, Madhu couldn’t breathe due to his heaviness, then Knuckle rolled back onto his side.
Madhu sighed and clutched him close. “Thanks, Knuckle.”
“No,” Knuckle said. “Thank you.”