MN Manmacker's mansploitation
At the brothel Lipsweet, Vivienne rules as queen, and the many roughnecks who come through are her subjects… But when her position is threatened, Vivienne finds herself on the outs, while the men around her must see to their own needs. Whether at the local jail, in a dusty backroom or in a dirty motel, these macho alphas will have to take matters into their own hands!
Madhu is a doctor servicing roughnecks from an oil rig, but when one of them comes to him with a major problem, Madhu is eager to help out… That’s because he’s gonna get to climb atop this hairy roughneck, giving him an adventure in Twink on Top!
Read the whole thing here!
Madhu Sharma came home, exhausted. He had only just moved in, so his apartment didn’t feel like home yet, it still felt like a poorly maintained hotel room. But today’s shift at the medical center was twelve hours long, so he was too tired to care. This was the first time he had come home to this apartment and not felt like he was stepping into someone else’s house. He needed to take a shower and make himself some dinner, but he didn’t want to. He didn’t even have the energy to take his shoes off. Madhu plopped onto his couch, too tired even to turn the TV on, only to be interrupted seconds later by a knock on the door.
“Goddamnit…” He wheezed like an old man as he got up.
It was Harley Willard from down below, he realized after pulling himself up to look through the peephole. Harley was an oil rig worker who lived in the lower part of this duplex. He had a hairy chest, hairy arms and legs, a scruffy beard and a hairy back. The only part of his body hair that he trimmed was his beard, which Madhu thought was ironic. He didn’t try to explain the irony to Harley.
In the tiny town of Onagnok, North Dakota, virtually everyone was a male oil rig worker with tattoos, hairy bodies and rough demeanors. Madhu was one of very few people in town who were not roughnecks. Madhu was a medical resident, working at the town’s only clinic.
He opened the door, realizing as he did that Harley was nervous, like he was waiting for bad news. Harley tapped one foot on the patio as Madhu took him in. “Hi, Harley,” Madhu said.
“Hey, uh… Can I ask you for a favor?”
“Um… I guess so. What? I’m really tired. I just got off work,” Madhu said. He didn’t want to sound mean, he wanted to be on good relations with his neighbor. But he was off-duty. He didn’t want to talk about medicine right now.
“I know, I been waiting. I got an ‘ppointment for next week, but, I, uh… I found a lump,” he said. His eyes trembled like he was near tears.
“What?”
“A lump,” he said quietly, his brown, rugged face turning bright red. “On my, uh… testicle.” It sounded like he had never said the word testicle out loud before.
“Oh, well… Uh, you really need an actual appointment, I can’t do a full exam here,” Madhu said. He sighed — he wanted to be close to Harley, so he had a feeling he was going to talk himself into it. A testicle lump was serious, after all. If Harley needed to see a urologist, it would be better to find out now and get him a referral as soon as possible, rather than waiting for next week. It didn’t take any special equipment to palpate a testicle, just a pair of gloves (and even that wasn’t really necessary).
“I know, I gots an appointment, next week. I just… My dad died of cancer. Not, y’know ball cancer, but still… Can you just tell me if I should be worried? Or if I should go right to an oncologist?”
Madhu sighed. “Fine. Come on in,” he said. “Drop your pants.”
Harley must have been really nervous, Madhu thought, because he was already taking his belt off as he came in. He put both hands on the side of the couch and gripped it tightly. His pants were around his ankles, and those thick thighs were covered only by dingy white briefs. The vast layer of thickly choked leg hair pressed against the fabric of his underwear. His muscles were all tense.
He smelled strongly of sawdust and engine oil, a scent that sent a frisson up Madhu’s spine. He inhaled deeply of the invigorating aroma, every whiff of which woke him up a notch.
Craving caffeine, Madhu tried to wake himself up more. He had an ethical duty to do his best, even for something like this — it wasn’t a big deal from Madhu’s perspective. It was a big deal from Harley’s perspective, that was true. After all, it could be something serious. But it probably wasn’t, and all Madhu could do was feel a lump and refer Harley to a specialist. Madhu didn’t need to actually diagnose it and in fact couldn’t do more than say “yep, that’s a lump”.
Madhu had an emergency kit by the door, so Madhu grabbed a pair of gloves and slid his hand between Harley’s legs. Once he got the gloves on and had an array of medical equipment in front of him, he felt more alert and more professional, like the gear had triggered feelings from his medical school.
A sigh rattled out of his throat.
He palpated each testicle thoroughly. He turned on the doctor part of his brain and the part of his brain that loves hairy roughnecks went to mute.
There was no lump. He felt again, but there was nothing. Had he made a mistake? Madhu had done a urology residency already, he was confident in his ability to feel a lump (which was really very simple — a lump was a lump, you couldn’t miss it). There was an ingrown hair on the rear part of his scrotum, near the perineum, but that was it.
“Uh, Harley, where’s the lump? I don’t feel it.”
“It’s right there, in the back.” He reached between his legs and pointed to that ingrown hair.
“That’s not a lump. First of all, that’s not even your testicle, Harley, that’s your scrotum.”
“Yeah, but that’s the same region, right?”
“Well, yeah, same region, but there’s a big difference. That’s just an ingrown hair. Are you a chimney sweep?”
“A what?”
“A chimney sweep, like in Victorian England? In the past?”
“Am I from Victorian England? No,” he said. “Green Bay, Wisconsin. The present.”
“Scrotal cancer is very rare, basically unheard of except if you’re a chimney sweep, they used to get scrotum tumors,” he said. “The scrotum is just skin, so you can get skin cancer there, but you rarely get skin cancer without exposure to the sun, like a lot of it. So scrotums are pretty safe.” Madhu pulled out a pair of tweezers and pulled the ingrown hair out. Harley winced in pain. “That should be fine. Come in for your appointment anyway, sometimes these things get infected. Keep your crotch dry and clean. But you don’t need to worry, you don’t have testicular cancer.”
“Oh, thank god!”
“I’m glad you’re doing self-exams though,” Madhu said.
“How can I repay you?”
“Uh…” Madhu wanted to say that the obvious answer was to pay him with money, which he desperately needed right now, having just paid a lot to move into his new place. But that would seem greedy, he thought, and in any case, if Harley could afford to pay money, he wouldn’t have asked how to repay him.
“I mean… I can’t afford to pay anything in money,” Harley said. He turned around, showing his bare cock and hairy crotch. “But you jack off, right?” He flopped his dick between his thick fingers. “You’re into that, right?”
Madhu nodded.
“Well… There ain’t many women in town.”
“I noticed.”
“So, if you wanted to taste my dick, I’d be fine with that,” he said. Despite the hesitance in his voice, Madhu suspected he’d be more than ‘fine’ with it — he was horny. He wanted to blow a nut and didn’t mind where it came from.
But Madhu was annoyed at having to do work for free, when he was supposed to be off, especially silly work that would have been unnecessary if Harley knew the difference between a scrotum and a testicle. So he shook his head. “I’m not that kind of guy,” he said. “I’ll jack off with you if you wanna get a nut off, but I’m on top. You gotta get me off and take it in the ass.” He shrugged, assuming that Harley would never agree to anything like that.
“Fine,” Harley said, barely giving it a moment’s thought. He looked around Madhu’s apartment as though checking for witnesses. No one was here. In this remote part of North Dakota, there was virtually always no one around, wherever you looked — that was the main feature of this region.
But while there were few people generally, there were even fewer women specifically. That meant men like Harley were plagued with stiffies.
There was a long pause as Madhu tried to figure out if he was joking. “What?”
“I mean… I just wanna get my nut off, and I can tell you’s into it,” he said. “Back on the rig, me and the fat sonuvabitch Gerry got drunk and messed around cuz we was both so horny, and you know… there wasn’t nothin’ else to do. But that was gross. I ain’t like that one bit.” He blushed. “Jerry’s big and hairy, and he smells like feet. I discottoned to that. Since you a tiny little twink and you look like a girl anyway — no offense, darlin’ — I thought you’d be easier to take.”
“Uh, well… Okay,” Madhu said, so shocked that he couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“You will get me off, right? We can sixty-nine? I have gotta bust a nut. I’ll just pretend I’s on the rig.”
“You guys really do that on the rig a lot?” Madhu said. He took his gloves off and tossed them in the trash
“Nah,” Harley said with a chuckle. “Well, some guys do. Kinda. It don’t count on the rig. That’s sorta… you ain’t sposedta be squeamish about it, you know, if some guy wanna get off on you, you should let him.” He put both hands up. “I don’t truck with that. I like pussy. I fuck the everloving shit outta some pussy.”
“Hmm-hmm,” Madhu said. He felt small next to Harley’s broad-muscled body, which was bare now, muscle flexing with each breath he took. He was remarkably nonchalant about it, you could tell he got naked among strangers several times a day. He had the body language of it. He stood there, swaggering and sorta grabbing at himself as though to check all his body parts were still there, and he stretched his rough-hewn face too, like he was loosening up for a performance. Harley’s chest was tattoed, but they were old and faded and overgrown with body hair like a shut-in’s garden.
“What? Why you lookin’ at me?” Harley said. “Don’t laugh ’bout that shit on the rig — that’s how it goes — and don’t tell nobody, what happens on the rig stays on the rig, homeboy! That’s a rule!” He wagged his finger at Madhu. “I got that doctor-patient confidential, I got confidentials all over that one.”
Madhu nodded. “Yeah, yeah, don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. Everybody gets stiffies.” He paused. “Well, not women.”
Then he grabbed Harley’s dick, which immediately jumped to attention in his hand. It was a long cock, a fact that Madhu didn’t really notice until he had it in his hand and had switched from doctor-mode to jack-off-mode. His exhaustion after a hard day’s work disappeared in a haze of anticipation.
Harley’s wiry muscles and dingy, amateur tattoos trembled as he closed his eyes and Madhu dropped his own pants. Madhu’s dick was not as big as Harley’s, but it was nothing to sneeze at, and Harley looked at like he wished it was smaller. Madhu hefted his dick in one hand and thwacked it against Harley’s, which made him wince.
“Don’t even try ’bout puttin’ nuttin’ in mah ass, homeboy,” Harley said. His country accent was thicker now, as though he had either been speaking more properly when asking for a favor and getting medical advice or his arousal was making his Southern accent return to the forefront of his voice. He leaned back, as though ready to fall over if it weren’t for Madhu holding onto his dick, which remained flaccid so far.
Stroking both cocks at once, Madhu licked Harley’s nipples. Harley began flexing his hips, fucking Madhu’s hand like it was a pussy. Meanwhile his dick jerked, beginning to get hard as Madhu’s own cock leaked precum down his shaft. “You guys don’t do butt stuff on the rig?” Madhu asked. He let both dicks angle around together, while his hands explored the rippling muscles of Harvey’s chest. Harvey ignored his touches, and he just sat there like Madhu was here to bestow an erection upon him and he needn’t be involved beyond providing the dick.
Harley nodded. “Some fellahs do, it’s gross,” he said. “No offense. I mean… I ain’t in prison, I don’t wanna do no booty bandit shit. I was in prison too, a couple years ago, I know how that goes. I done watch this big-ass black fellah get turned inside out, shit, man, he was either howling for less or begging for more, I never found out, shit was crazy. I don’t fuck with that.” He paused. “No offense. It wasn’t a racial thing. Black guys was who was on top of him. It was all-black.” He looked down as though he only now noticed his dick was hard. “Thanks. You look like a girl anyway. Barely counts. There ain’t no females for miles around. That’s another rule. Once there’s no women around for a hundred miles, you have to give up the ass. It’s a roughneck rule.”
“There are women around-“
“Prostitutes don’t count.”
“There’s still a couple women around. Williston is less than a hundred miles away,” Madhu said.
“Well, that’s why I don’t do butt stuff!” Harley said. He took both dicks in his own roughly callused grip, and he stroked them together. Madhu’s hands continued exploring Harley’s well-muscled frame. As Harley masturbated both shafts together, his muscles flexed as though he had to use all of them to stroke both cocks together.
Madhu licked his lips, leaning in close to partake of Harley’s masculine musk. He smiled and sucked on each of Harley’s nipples, licking those thick work-toned pecs as he worked his way down to Harley’s half-hard cock. He kissed the tip, smiling as it jiggled and spasmed in excitement.
Gently pushing Harley to the couch, Madhu laid him down on his back. Then Madhu climbed atop, his thin twink body barely fitting on Harley’s massive frame. He had to delicately balance himself in the scrap of couch that was not covered by Harley, and Madhu nearly fell as he lowered himself onto Harley.
He pointed his cock into Harley’s mouth, surprised that Harley wasn’t resistant at all, and didn’t even seem too disgusted by it. He did wrinkle his nose as he tasted Madhu’s dick, but he didn’t resist, and his wide throat easily swallowed every inch. He gagged as it hit the back of his throat.
Madhu kissed Harley’s cock, slurping on the tip and licking up the precum that dripped down the shaft. Harley’s dick spasmed and shook. The veins of his manhood throbbed within Harley’s mouth, and the taste of his unfiltered manhood — a mixture of sweat, precum, and stale grease — wafted into Madhu’s aroused nostrils. He inhaled deeply of the intoxicating aroma.
They sixty-nined there for what felt like a very brief period to Madhu, but seemed like forever to Harley. He was so wide and broad-shouldered that he barely fit on the couch when laying down, and it was awkward to have Madhu on top of him. Madhu loved the feel of the man’s crude muscles writhing beneath his smooth twink body, and he especially loved his balls resting on Harley’s crooked, oft-broken nose, a remnant of his wilder bar-fighting days (or so he had told Madhu when they first met).
When he felt his own orgasm coming, Madhu got up. Harley growled like he was horny as Madhu’s cock pulled away from his mouth, as though he wanted to taste more of it. He seemed to forget he was straight for a moment. Thick tendrils of spit connected Harley’s mouth to Madhu’s dick.
“You’s a pretty boy… If’n I evuh get locked up again, I’m gonna hope my cellmate looks like you,” Harley said, his voice equal parts aroused and menacing. He bent over the couch and stuck his tanned ass in the air. He spread his legs wide and hung his head in a mixture of shame and anticipation. “Be gentle, boy.”
“I will. You can tell me to stop,” Madhu said. He smiled at the sight of Harley’s asshole, which was thick with dark blond hair. It winked as fresh cold air washed over it, and Harley’s whole body shuddered. He even moaned like he was in pain even though nothing had happened yet.
Madhu spat on his hand to use as lube, then when he felt how tight it was with his finger, he knew he needed actual lubricant. Luckily, his medical bag was already next to the couch, and he had a tube of lube ready there — it was actually more effective than the consumer-grade lube, so Madhu thought it would be ideal for a near-virgin like Harley.
“This’ll be cold,” he said, then dribbled lube onto the top of Harley’s asscrack. He squealed and shuddered, those perfect tan asscheeks shaking. Madhu gently rubbed the lube down Harley’s crack and to his tight hole. His finger hesitated there at the entrance, waiting for his sphincter to open up.
Then it did and Madhu let his finger push in. Harley winced and lifted one leg up like a dog about to piss. Madhu smiled to himself as Harley’s body slowly adjusted. He switched briefly back to doctor-mode, just long enough to feel Harley’s prostate — which was perfectly spongy, just the right size, a healthy young man’s prostate. Then he began moving his finger inside and out.
After a few minutes of that, Harley’s moan moved from pained to aroused, and Madhu knew that was it. This was his cue. He withdrew his finger and lined his dick up with that twinkling hot hole — he had to get up on his toes to reach.
Madhu pushed his dick in and sighed. Harley’s hole was tight, and he had to keep adding lube to get himself in. He hit resistance at the first inch, then the third, and it was a struggle to keep going.
Harley bit his lip and howled. Though it was clearly a pained sound, Madhu detected a faint note of pleasure as well. It wasn’t all bad for him, Madhu suspected. Harley’s voice broke as he submitted to inch after inch of Madhu’s dick. He kept raising his left foot higher and higher until Madhu had to push it back down — Madhu was so much smaller than Harley that the elevated leg made it difficult to keep going.
“Oh god, thanks, Harley, I really needed this,” Madhu said, clutching the big man’s broad back muscles. He had a few tats that looked amateurly done, either when Harley was in his youthful rebellion phase or in prison; either way, they were faded pictures of a naked woman, a Confederate flag and a rampaging bear, all of them wrinkled and writhing as pleasure and agony alike suffused Harley’s body.
The phone rang. Madhu thought it was his phone at first, but when he pulled it out of his crumpled-up pants, he saw that his screen was dead. Harley grabbed for his phone in his pants on the ground. He winced when he saw who it was.
“I gotta take this, it’s my boss,” he said, his voice resigned and annoyed. “Hello? Yeah. No, man! I ain’t taking a shit, I just… I sound weird cuz I don’t feel good right now, and I just stubbed my toe. That’s it,.” He winced and gritted his teeth as he talked. “Yeah. Okay. Yeah, sure, whatever. Of course I did. Tell him he’s just gotta tighten it. I am not. He knows how to do it. Get a vertical wrench, he can do it. I ain’t comin’ in. Don’t even say that. Nope. Just tighten all four corners. It’ll work. That’s all I’d do, that’s all I know how to do. I don’t know how to fix it, I’ve told you that a hundred times, all I know how to do is tighten all four corners! Then shove the wrench up your ass, maybe that’ll help, I ain’t comin’ in!” He hung up the phone and tossed it on the floor. He buried his nose in the couch cushion and moaned, his tone showing both anger and desire.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, just stick it in me!” Harley exclaimed, his voice muffled by the couch. Madhu couldn’t tell if he exclaimed because he was enraged, horny, impassioned or agonized, or maybe a mixture of all four. He bit his lip and hung his shaggy head low. Madhu caressed his thick mop of hair, which was greasy with the day’s sweat.
He began working his dick in and out, sighing as pleasure again suffused him. Madhu’s tension about a long day at work, and his discomfort in his new home, faded away. He felt his orgasm coming on, and he had a feeling Harley wasn’t that far away either.
“Gimme a reacharound,” Harley said.
“Are you sure. I thought you wanted to cornhole me when I was done?”
“Just do it, I don’t care,” Harley said, hanging his head. “I just need to get my rocks off now.”
Madhu grabbed his dick and stroked. Madhu was so much smaller than Madhu that he had to struggle to reach all the way around; his arm barely reached. But when he did get a grip on it, Harley’s whole body shivered and jerked. His dick pulsated, and Madhu could feel the imminent orgasm coursing through the prominent veins of his cockshaft.
Harley reached orgasm just seconds later, as though Madhu had flicked a switch. Cum sprayed over Madhu’s brand-new couch, and into Madhu’s fingers. Harley’s muscles all tensed at once, vibrating like a rickety car at top speed. He held his breath, grunting over and over with every pump of Madhu’s dick inside his guts.
“Oh damn, boy, that was nice…” Harley said, then blushed and bit his lip as though he hadn’t meant to admit he enjoyed it.
Before Madhu could respond, he shot his own load, and hot cum filled up Harley’s ass. Madhu’s thin twink body writhed just like Harley’s had, the movement making Harley twist as Madhu’s dick touched every corner of his insides.
Madhu pulled out and sighed. “Damn, Harley…”
“Fuck, I needed that,” he said. He blushed as he pulled away and wiped his ass off with a tissue. He breathed a sigh of relief when Madhu’s cock plopped out of him. “Fuck… I thought for sure I wasn’t gonna be able to cum wit’ yer dick inside me.” He blushed even harder as he verbalized what had happened. He avoided eye contact with Madhu.
“It’s okay, everyone enjoys prostate stimulation,” Madhu said. “That’s a medical fact.”
“Yeah, well… thanks. Don’t tell no one,” he said. “You can tell ‘em I let you jack me off. That’s fine, ain’t nobody care about that. But don’t let ‘em know I… y’know, did anything.”
“Don’t worry, I’m your doctor, Harley. This is all confidential,” Madhu said. He patted Harley on the ass. “You can put some aloe on your ass and Neosporin on that ingrown hair. They’ll both feel better soon.” He smiled as he watched Harley dress and head out the door.
“See ya,” Harley said quietly. He didn’t wait for a response, he was already gone.
That was fine with Madhu. He didn’t really want to hang out anyway. He just wanted to wait for Harley to come back for a second visit, or maybe one of the other roughnecks around here, Madhu thought, would be willing to come by and give him another exciting adventure.
Teddy works for a billionaire on a charter flight, but when it turns out to be just him and the pilot sharing a hotel room and a bed, Teddy is in for the alpha-male pilot service experience of his dreams!
Read the whole thing here!
Teddy was glad to buckle up when the plane glided to the ground at the airstrip in Bucket Hole. He was ready to move on with the plan. This part was easy. The flight took a long time, since this little old charter plane couldn’t go real fast. Teddy’s ass was sore, his legs were tired and his mind was going crazy for lack of stimulation. He was glad to have arrived in the town of Bucket Hole, which was aptly named, as looked like the kind of run-down-company-town without-a-company where you probably couldn’t find anything worth buying, the kind of town that produces nothing but buckets with holes in them.
Bucket Hole wasn’t much of a town, but it had a small dusty airstrip. It was about thirty miles from an oil field, which was the only reason anyone used the airstrip. That airstrip was the only reason Bucket Hole was still a town. When that oil field dried up eventually, the airstrip would be abandoned, and the town of Bucket Hole would fade away like a forgotten film.
The CEO of Blinkendale Energy was Charlie Walthenham, and it was he who had chartered the flight. Mr. Walthenham had arranged for Teddy to bring gourmet food from his country club — the Rockhard Country Club. Serving that food was essentially the only reason to have a flight attendant on the flight, since Mr. Walthenham could serve his own drinks (he merely drank his scotch neat). So he had hired Teddy from the country club to serve as his flight attendant.
Not a big stretch for Teddy, who used to work as an an actual flight attendant and knew well how to serve that food, because that was what he did at the country club every day. This was the same thing, but it came with a free trip to Wyoming.
It hadn’t become apparent until too late that there was literally no reason to go to Bucket Hole except to strike it rich in oil, and there was no chance of Teddy becoming a roughneck. It wasn’t worth what Mr. Walthenham was paying him.
The plane landed amid a cloud of dust on that airstrip. It was going well, Teddy thought, he looked like a real flight attendant. He even managed to look like he dreaded spending the night in this one-horse town. He emphasized his discomfort with the situation in hopes of inspiring Mr. Walthenham to give him a big tip at the end of the weekend. That might make make this whole thing worth the time.
Usually on these kind of small-plane short charter flights, the pilot didn’t wear the typical pilot’s uniform. Usually the flight attendant didn’t either, but Teddy wanted to look as professional as possible. The pilot seemed to have the same idea. He was tall and a bit of redneck, but only in a tasteful way, a slight twang in his voice, no holler, no trace of a trailer park. He was the kind of redneck people can trust, with broad-shoulders that filled out his uniform nicely. His name was Wyatt Kettenhauer, and he had a gorgeous head of raven hair that made Teddy’s heart skip a beat. He looked young, which Teddy thought might turn Mr. Walthenham off, but he did look solid. He exuded competence, and he was as handsome as a politician.
Wyatt even came out once the plane landed and stood there in the cabin next to Teddy. They both held in their breath, standing at attention as Mr. Walthenham waddled fatly off, yelling at some poor soul on his cell phone. Wyatt made eye contact with Teddy, but both stayed at attention like soldiers.
“You had better get it done, asshole, I’m not waiting another day! I want motherfucking results, or I will come down there to St. Louis and ram my foot so far up your ass you could snort coke off my pinkie toe!” Mr. Walthenham strode out, seemingly not noticing Wyatt or Teddy at all.
They waited until he was good and gone. Since the airstrip was so small, that meant waiting until he left the tarmac entirely.
“Phew! I tell you one thing,” Wyatt said, taking off his cap when they were truly away from Mr. Walthenham. “That man is frightening with a capital F and a capital U. E’ry time I land the plane with him on it, I breathe a sigh of relief, cuz I just know he could have me pistol-whipped for makin’ it a bumpy ride.” His Western twang was peal-y like a mockingbird, his voice a slow rumble like a cowboy, which Teddy soon realized he was, underneath that pilot’s uniform. Or at least he had grown up on a ranch and fancied himself a cowboy, right down to the well-worn cowboy hat when he was back at home. “If you don’t mind me, Teddy, my good man, I’m gonna get find some fine slice of womanhood and see if I can’t plow her furrows.”
“Yes, sir.” Teddy was disappointed in both his desire and his metaphor. Teddy wanted to spend time with Wyatt, whose handsome face and alluring stature got Teddy excited. Teddy was a keen appreciator of a well-formed male physiqye, and Wyatt Kettenhauer was an exemplar of the masculine shape.
Teddy left the plane after tidying up and getting it ready for the return trip. Wyatt the pilot headed into the rinky-dink airport, but Teddy hung behind. He didn’t want it to be obvious he was following Wyatt.
In a tiny airstrip like this one and in a tiny town like Bucket Hole, it should be easy, Teddy thought, to not look like a stalker. There was probably only one motel, only one bar (if that), not that many places a ranch-hand floozy might hang out — that was the kind of woman Teddy thought Wyatt was likely to be after. There was no way to hide in a town like this, and there were hardly going to be multiple women available.
Or maybe the place would be crawling with loose women, given the roughnecks that came through on a regular basis en route to that oil field. They no doubt came out on leave with full balls and cooped-up stiffies. Teddy knew the type. As Teddy moseyed to the hotel though, it looked like there was literally nobody in this podunk little burg.
“How many vacancies have you got?” Teddy asked when he came in the front lobby and approached the desk.
“One,” said the waify, bored-looking clerk. He didn’t look at the computer screen.
“I’ll rent it. Is it a single?”
“Yes, sir,” said the clerk.
Teddy nodded. That was good. He was confident Wyatt hadn’t rented a room first, he most likely went straight out to get laid. Men like Wyatt were like that. He wouldn’t even think about a place to stay tonight until he actually needed it. The clerk handed over the key. He didn’t bother to tell Teddy in which direction the room was. Teddy used to be a hotel clerk, so he mentally deducted one star from his rating for this place.
Not that this was the kind of hotel that cared abouts it rating. There was literally no competition. It was either sleep in the hotel or get eaten by a bear, so the clerk’s hospitality only had to be greater than that of a hungry bear.
The room was drab and dreary. It wasn’t dirty, or at least not actively so, but it was hardly clean either. It was coated in a layer of dinge. But at least it didn’t smell like urine or blood, Teddy thought, which sometimes happened in these tiny motels. Once they get a bad stain, it never goes away, because management won’t spend what it takes. The bed was surprisingly comfortable, and the bathroom was clean, which was what was most important for Teddy. He could deal with the rest.
He settled back to relax and wait for Wyatt to be visible from his vantage point in front of his room, where he could see much of the main street in this town. The clerk inside the lobby kept watching Teddy, trying to figure out his game.
But Teddy just watched the dullness develop as day turned to night, and the moon’s long darkness spread over the landscape. There was the town’s bar too. Teddy couldn’t make out the name on the sign. After a long time trying to decipher it from this far away, Teddy just googled it.
The Clean Pipe. Sounds like a biker bar, he thought. It didn’t even have a proper website though. Just a Facebook page last updated seven months ago.
He soon saw Wyatt coming out of the bar. He staggered out shouting at someone inside, like he had just gotten in a fight and been kicked out — he hadn’t been in there long enough to get drunk though, or at least not real drunk. He sighed and came towards the motel.
Teddy left the hotel room and waited outside as casually as he could muster. He nodded to Wyatt, who had a visible erection in his tight pilot’s uniform slacks. It bulged against the fabric, and Wyatt gave it a squeeze through his clothes as he walked. He must have gotten in trouble with a woman, Teddy thought. Wyatt went to the clerk in the window, ignoring Teddy.
Soon, Wyatt’s deep voice filtered out into the night-time air. “No vacancies! What are you talking about? No one ever comes to this shit-heel of a town! How could you be full?”
Finally, Wyatt came out with an angry snarl. He glared at Teddy, then his snarl brightened into a smile. He walked over to him. “Hey, did you get a room?”
Teddy nodded.
“Can we share? I couldn’t get one. This one-horse town is down to a half-a-horse, and it’s sickly,” Wyatt said. “There was one girl in that bar and she was a prude. She wouldn’t even talk to me!” He threw his hands in the air, then winced because the motion caused pain in his sensitive cock. His erection appeared to have diminished a bit, but there was still a noticeable bulge in his tight pants.
“There’s only one bed, but we can share,” Teddy said with a casual shrug. He sniffed Wyatt’s breath. No alcohol. “Are you drunk?”
He shook his head. “I’m not drinking tonight. Mr. Walthenham seems like the kinda man who might wake me up in the middle of the night cuz he wants to leave early. I gotta be sober as a Monday morning,” he said. He took a deep breath and looked up and down the main drag of Bucket Hole. “Well, I’m gonna go try to get laid. Nothing personal, but if I can, I’m not sleeping with you tonight. Don’t wait up.” Wyatt paused. “You wanna come with me?”
“No thanks, I’ve got a girlfriend,” Teddy said. He scribbled down his room number and passed it to Wyatt. “Come on in. I’ll leave the door unlocked.”
Wyatt scoffed like he didn’t get why a girlfriend should stop Teddy, but he accepted it. He headed down the street to see where else there might be some females. Teddy suspected he would have poor luck — in a tiny town like Bucket Hole, there were not likely to be many options as far as nightlife went. That bar he got kicked out of has gotta be the entirey of Bucket Hole’s nightlife. Probably there were more prostitutes when the roughnecks had leave.
But Wyatt was a charter pilot, and he saw the perks of that job as including all the fine women he met throughout the world. Ladies loved pilots. He could talk a woman out of her panties in virtually any city. He’d bedded (women who claimed to be) Saudi princesses, billionaires, Bruce Willis’s daughter, porn stars and supermodels.
But Bucket Hole, Montana, was proving to be difficult. There was no one here.
It was barely an hour after they separated when Wyatt knocked on the motel room door. He pushed right in when Teddy opened the door. He still had his cowboy hat on, and he removed it as he entered, then put it right back on. His cheeks were ruddy, and he chewed on his lips as he fumed.
“Goddamn this town sucks! You know it’s a dry town? Apparently liquor stores are illegal, there’s only one liquor license in town and it’s the bar that just kicked me out.”
“That sucks,” Teddy said. “I thought you weren’t drinking?”
“I’m not! It’s just an observation. No wonder there’s no nightlife here! There’s no minibar in this room either, is there?”
“No sir.”
“Well shit… I guess this is officially the most boring town in North America, huh, Teddy?” he said. He sighed. Then he glanced up at Teddy with a guilty grin. “Or maybe we’ll fool around when the lights go out, you know what they say — cowboys can do it in the dark, it don’t count, yee-haw!” He paused to gauge Teddy’s reaction. “And they say that about pilots too when they ain’t in they home time-zone, shit yeah!”
Teddy laughed along with him. He wasn’t sure how joking Wyatt was. Hopefully not at all.
Both of them settled into Teddy’s room, and Teddy was glad to have a chance to see Wyatt like this: casual, shirtless, brushing his teeth, taking a shower, putting on deodorant even just to go to bed, clipping his toenails. Wyatt talked, mostly about women, the whole time, and he badmouthed Mr. Walthenham, who hired him often but never learned his name. He kept calling him “Ryan Kettleman”.
Eventually, the night dragged on, and they put on a movie, some superhero thriller that seemed poorly edited for tv and didn’t entirely make sense to Teddy. He could barely follow it though, because Wyatt kept talking the whole way. Mainly he commented on the women onscreen and compared them to the women he had slept with. His conclusion was that he got hotter women than this movie starred. It annoyed the piss out of Teddy, who hated people who talked during movies. Wyatt was too handsome to be mad at though.
Finally, the movie was over, and Teddy was already half-asleep as he turned the light out. He could tell Wyatt was restless and didn’t want to go to bed just yet.
Wyatt paced for a moment quietly. He hadn’t gone to bed with neither sex nor alcohol, nor even weed, in a long time. He wasn’t an addict, he thought, but it was difficult to convince himself that he could go to bed horny and sober. It just didn’t feel right. Every time a woman appeared in his mind’s eye, his dick rocketed back to full erection, and Wyatt resumed pacing in the dark hotel room.
Eventually, he did lay down next to Teddy. Wyatt was used to a more comfortable bed than this. He rarely slept at home, as he usually was in hotels all around the world — wherever Mr. Walthenham needed to go — or sometimes in the bed of his latest female conquest.
Once he got under the covers just a few inches from Teddy, however, Wyatt realized he could satisfy his sexual urges as well. He genuinely thought of it as “not counting” in a situation like this, in a tiny town and a cramped motel. In pilot school, everybody had said it doesn’t count if you’re at least two time zones away from home. That meant cheating. It was okay to cheat on a wife if she was at least two time zones away.
But, Wyatt thought, it could apply to messing around “on the downlow”, as the black guys say. It would not be Wyatt’s first time. It would be his first time since becoming a pilot, however. Women threw themselves at pilots. So did men like Teddy.
“Hey, man…” Wyatt whispered, finally breaking the silence in the silentious motel room, the only sound being the whirr of the air conditioner. “You wanna jack off with me?” he asked with confidence, like he already knew the answer.
Which was true. He did know the answer. Wyatt had noticed Teddy checking him out all day, and he knew perfectly well Teddy wanted to swing on his dick. Most male flight attendants were that way.
“Hell yeah. I didn’t know you were into that,” Teddy said, hoping to sound coy instead of naive. His hands flitted over underneath the covers to Wyatt’s muscular chest, and Teddy scooted closer, so he could feel the solid warmth emanating from Wyatt’s body.
“I grew up on a ranch.” Wyatt chuckled dryly. “You know, out there you stick your dick wherever you can find a nice tight hole, ya feel me? Sheep run scared ’round my parts. Not that I ever partook, cuz I had females hanging off e’ry inch I got, ya feel me?” He patted Teddy on the head, and he gently pushed his head closer to Wyatt’s crotch.
“Uh-huh.” Teddy sighed and allowed Wyatt to move his head closer, putting up just a little resistance, like a nice woman would, just enough resistance to let Wyatt know this wasn’t an automatic gimme. Teddy kissed Wyatt on the treasure trail of body hair leading from his flat belly to his dick, and as Teddy moved lower and lower. He resisted Wyatt hurrying him down to his groin. Finally Wyatt’s half-hard dick collided with Teddy’s face. Wyatt let out a twanging moan as his dick touched Teddy’s hand. Teddy gripped that thick shaft and gave it a few strokes, then opened his mouth and kissed it, right on the tip.
Wyatt’s whole body buckled. He whispered “Yee-haw” again and laughed, very quietly, even though there was no way anyone could hear but Teddy. He pushed Teddy’s head lower on his dick.
“Yeah, man, put your mouth on it…”
Finally, Teddy did so, allowing his mouth the envelop Wyatt’s rapidly firming up cock. It pulsated like an alien beast, and his muscular chest rippled beneath Teddy’s fingertips. The taste of his dickshaft was clean and sweet, with a musky after-scent. He liked feeling Wyatt’s rock-hard meat exploring his throat, pushing all the way in until Teddy’s nose nuzzled Wyatt’s pubic hair.
Soon he was rock-hard, his cock throbbing on Teddy’s tongue. Wyatt moaned as he guided Teddy up and down, firmly but gently. Teddy’s tongue slathered spit up and down Wyatt’s rock-hard shaft, and the first few drops of salty, sun-bright precum hit Teddy’s tongue.
Much to Teddy’s surprise, Wyatt intended to return the favor — he assumed a macho pilot and boss like Wyatt would never reciprocate. He leaned down and stroked Teddy’s dick with one hand. It was a slow, lazy stroke, but it got Teddy hard, and soon both men leaked precum onto each other. It was almost, but not quite, a sixty-nine because Wyatt didn’t taste Teddy’s dick —where Wyatt came from, men could jack each other off in exchange for whatever or because they lost a bet, but swallowing a nut was too much. Wyatt wouldn’t do that. He could do almost anything else though. Teddy was not gonna complain.
“Hey, man, can I stick ya?” Wyatt asked, his voice soft and low, aimed directly into Teddy’s ear.
“You gotta gimme a reacharound,” Teddy said, gasping for more. He chased Wyatt’s cock with his mouth, but Wyatt kept moving it out of his way, already getting in position to go up Teddy’s ass, even though Teddy hadn’t agreed yet. Wyatt wasn’t used to anyone telling him no.
“Hell yeah, you oughta be a full-time flight attendant, yessuh. Pilots could use someone with a mouth like you. Women stewardesses are teases these days, I tells yah!” Wyatt said with a loud whoop, which he then muffled. “Sorry, that was loud.”
“No one can hear.” Teddy’s voice was huffy and plaintive, as he was desperate to get Wyatt’s manhood inside him.
“I know… This kinda thing is best done on the hush and in the dark, ya feel me?”
“Yeah…”
Wyatt slid behind Teddy and hefted his dick between his cheeks. Teddy’s asshole tingled, then the tip slid in. Teddy bit his lip as pleasure and pain both enveloped him in equal measure. This was happening faster than he thought it would. Despite the lack of any potential audience, Teddy still swallowed back a moan of pleasure, as sensations sparked up and down his body. Wyatt’s cock slammed into his prostate, both men moving as one as pleasure filled both men’s bodies.
The hum of the air conditioner outside the motel room seemed impossibly loud. Teddy couldn’t hear anything but that and Wyatt’s heavy breathing condensing on the back of his head, as Wyatt’s hands explored Teddy’s smooth chest. The intense pressure overwhelmed him, but gradually loosened with every passing second.
“Sssh… it’s okay,” Wyatt said, his low twang echoing in Teddy’s ear like a banjo. His hands roamed over Teddy’s body and then gripped his dick. A jolt of pleasure shout through Teddy. “I’m inside ya now, son…”
Teddy’s whole body tensed as more of Wyatt’s cock slid in, each centimeter sending a new wave of bliss to wrack his tiny frame. He clenched and bit down. Wyatt began slowly stroking him in sync with the gyrations of his hips. His balls slapped against Teddy’s thighs.
He kissed Teddy on the lips, and their tongues interlocked in Teddy’s mouth. Teddy let out a long, slow moan of pleasure. He couldn’t believe how good this felt. It continued for what felt like forever, and Teddy didn’t want it to end. He cried out and gasped. Wyatt moaned over and over, smiling, glad that he had gotten his rocks off after all, even without a girl. Teddy was probably tighter than any of the women in this town anyway.
Wyatt grunted and his body spasmed. Cum sprayed into Teddy’s ass, great gobs of it that filled him and coated his insides. Some of it dripped out and onto the mattress beneath him. A burst of it seeped into Teddy’s flesh, the creamy heat flowing into him like a river.
“Shit, boy… Hell yeah,” Wyatt said. Spasms of pleasure overwhelmed his body. His free hand tightened into claws that dug into Teddy’s body, while his other hand kept stroking Teddy into an impassioned orgasm. Bliss erupted in Teddy’s body, while Wyatt’s climax turned to a low moan that resonated in Teddy’s ear.
Teddy let out a sigh as he shot his own load into Wyatt’s hand. He felt a slow-burning orgasm that only grew as he came and Wyatt’s dick limpened inside him. Then he took it out. He kissed Teddy on the cheek, where his lips lingered as his hands ran up and down Teddy’s body.
The smell of cum filled the air. Wyatt smiled and pounded on his chest. He flexed his biceps too, as though there was a woman here to impress — of course there was only Teddy, and he didn’t even face the right way to see. Teddy sensed the flexing of his powerful muscles behind his back though, and he rubbed his smoothness on Wyatt’s powerful body.
“Shit…” Wyatt said again with a chuckle. “That was right nice, yessuh. I am sure glad I hooked up with you. You’re a good flight attendant.”
“I’m not even really a flight attendant,” Teddy said with a laugh.
Wyatt shrugged and settled back onto the motel bed. Teddy curled up next to him. He liked the solidity of Wyatt’s muscles and the warmth of his body heat as it suffused over him.
“You’re a good pilot,” Teddy said with a giggle. He snuggled up to Wyatt’s body. “Tomorrow, I might be available in the cargo area during the flight home. Maybe you could sneak back there when the plane’s on autopilot.?”
“That ain’t allowed,” Wyatt said with a shrug. “But if you treat me like that again, son, I’ll do whatevuh you want!”
Lamar is glad to have work, even if it’s difficult, dirty and remote. He’s gotta shower with other men, including his boss Nelson. When it turns out Nelson has some ideas on how two men can meet their needs far from women, Lamar just might have to swing on the downlow whether he wants to or not!
Read the whole thing here!
Lamar stumbled through the worksite towards the temporary showers. Moonlight shone upon the upturned dirt and scattered heavy equipment. Lamar’s hardhat almost fell off, but he righted it. He wasn’t drunk, but in the dark and on the uneven surface of the construction site, it looked like he was. He nearly fell several times.
Behind him, the rest of the work crew hooted and clapped. They were drunk. The crickets were impossibly loud here too — Lamar had thought coming here to the middle of nowhere would be a nice, quiet place to relax, but during the day his fellow workers catcalled each other (since there were no women here) amid the rumbling of heavy machinery, and at night, the crickets crippeted, the sound joining with the men to create a lively chorus louder than any city street Lamar had lived on.
He couldn’t complain. He hadn’t come here for peace and quiet, that was just something he had hoped to find anyway. He had come here to escape a debt.
A lot of what he had expected turned out not to be true. Lamar was a strong young man, a high school basketball star and all-around ladysman. His life was made — he was a good student, a good player, a law-abiding kid who wanted to go to college and was good enough to get a scholarship.
Only he wasn’t quite that good. His senior year had been a disaster. It wasn’t really his fault, the team just fell apart. His grades were awful. In the end, he had been offered a five hundred dollar scholarship to a podunk school that cost thirty-eight times that amount per semester. It was a joke.
And so that had been the end of all his dreams. There was no other way to do it, and he had fucked up.
Now here he was, working for his uncle’s friend, Nelson, who helped Lamar pay off his debt and gave him this job out in the middle of nowhere.
The rural construction site was in south Louisiana, near but not quite on the Gulf Coast. Nelson’s crew was building worker housing for an oil rig that would be built nearby afterwards. They were some thirty miles from the nearest road, living in tents, using endless generators to power makeshift equipment with limited supplies. The pay was not bad, especially since it was impossible to spend any of it most of the time.
But conditions were tough. Nature was loud, the work was long, the heat was stultifying, and the lack of electricity made everything boring.
At least the shower — which was just a tent with a hose contraption attached — seemed likely to feel good. It had its own generator to make its own hot water. That had seemed useless when he started and the day’s heat was like a woolen blanket he couldn’t throw off. But he was getting used to it, and it was chilly at night. A warm shower was going to feel good.
It was funny how something you took for granted could become a luxury in a matter of hours. Hot running water is too basic to be thankful for until the moment you don’t have it anymore, and then it’s the only thing that matters.
He stepped into the shower tent and sighed. He was glad to get away from the other workers. Nelson was the only black man on the crew, and he was the crew leader. That meant Lamar was the only black man among the rank and file. Lamar’s arrival had doubled the black population here, and he wasn’t sure that wase a good thing. The others seemed to see him as an extension of Nelson.
The rest were rednecks and roughnecks and other kinds of necks, Lamar didn’t know. He didn’t understand most of what they said, the drawl, holler and stawk in their voices mixing like currents in an eddy, and what came out was an incomprehensible wash of syllables. Nelson was in charge, and it was plainly obvious that none of them liked taking orders from a black man.
Nelson didn’t take any shit from them, but Lamar commanded no such respect. He was a rookie. He tried to let their words roll off him, but it was tough — if they had been outright racist, that would have been easier, he thought. He could fight them or at least dismiss them as ignorant hillbillies in his mind.
But they weren’t racist, at least not openly, not in a way Lamar could be sure he wasn’t imagining. They just gave Lamar all the worst tasks to do. They delighted in making fun of his skinny arms and relative lack of experience. In the showers, they had taken to pretending his dick was small even though it wasn’t.
That was the other reason he was glad to shower by himself at night. He hadn’t realized the only light in the shower tent came from the sun. It seemed obvious now, but he hadn’t even thought about it before stepping into the tent and realizing he was going to be showering in the dark. That must be why they all showered as soon as work stopped, when the sun was just setting.
Still, the shower tent was just a big wide open area, so there was nothing to bump into, and there was enough moonlight that it wasn’t pitch-black. He sighed when he got in, glad to be able to shower without a bunch of white rednecks crowding in around him.
They were entirely too comfortable with man-on-man contact for Lamar’s taste. They had a game they called the Crack Game, which basically meant they tried to thwack each other with their dicks in the asscrack. It wasn’t even a real game, there was no way to win or lose, no points, no beginning, no end. Lamar panicked the first time one of those hairy hillbillies attempted at Lamar, ramming his cock between Lamar’s plump brown cheeks — half the reason he had never joined a gang was that people had been telling him since he was a boy that his ass was too perfect for prison.
These workers were not too perfect for prison. Most of them had records, and a handful were open about being booty bandits. Lamar tried to stay away from them.
He turned the water on, and let it warm up before stepping under the stream. He sighed. He felt the day’s sweat wash over him, and the pounding stream of water pushed anxiety and aches from his labored muscles. He really liked being in here alone in the dark, he thought, deciding right then and there that he was going to continue showering at night as long as he worked here.
“Who dat?” came Nelson’s deeply accented rural voice.
“Lamar, man. I’m just showerin’-“
“I see that. What’d I tell you ’bout callin’ me man, nigga?”
Lamar rolled his eyes. Luckily Nelson couldn’t see that. Lamar said, “Sorry, sir.” Nelson had told him to call him sir so it didn’t look like he was showing favoritism to his friend’s nephew. Lamar had never called anyone ‘sir’ consistently like that.
He took off his hardhat and placed it next to Lamar’s. Since this entire area was technically a worksite, the hardhat was legally required everywhere except the sleeping quarters and the showers. He’d had it on so long Lamar’s scalp was super-sensitive when he first took it off tonight.
Lamar sighed, annoyed that he wasn’t getting his shower alone. That was another luxury that seemed basic until he didn’t have it anymore.
Even though he couldn’t see the man’s crotch, Lamar kept his eyes scrupulously above Nelson’s waist. That was just polite, that was how he and his fellow teammates had done it in the showers in the projects he grew up in — the juvenile shower had individual stalls, but when they moved up to the adult showering area, they did it in small groups of awkward, gaze-avoiding young men. They pretended not to have ever seen each other’s cocks no matter how often they showered together.
But the rednecks here didn’t do that at all. They compared sizes and pretended to masturbate on each other. They grabbed each other’s nuts and held on just to get the other person’s attention.
A part of Lamar wondered if he would feel better if he could be that relaxed and uninhibited. It wasn’t good to be uptight. They were right, it was just nudity. It was just a dick. We all have them, why not let them out? None of the men here had anything to hide. They all had imperfect bodies, with bellies and hairy backs and some of them have little dinky dicks that they weren’t even ashamed of it.
“Woo-hoo! I’m the undisputed champion of the Crack Game! Ain’t nobody can compete with me!” A hillbilly drawl echoed from the campsite. Sound traveled so clearly at night that Lamar could hear it easily even here in the shower. “Got a cock like a baseball bat!”
Lamar shuddered. That was a hillbilly named Cooter, who had a Confederate flag on his belly and a hoggish cock, ugly as a dead baby in a puddle, shit! He had hair on his back, he was one of those kinds of white men. Lamar did not like that kind of white man. Not in a racist way, he felt the same way about an Arab or a Jew or a Mexican whose chest hair had grown up over his shoulders and onto his back. Nah. Lamar don’t play that way. Cooter loved the Crack Game, the other workers must have been playing it outside.
“Cooter is shameful white trash,” Nelson said. He shook his head, wrinkling his nose as he got in the shower next to Lamar. “He dirty.”
Lamar wanted to complain and ask him to use a different shower, further away, but he didn’t dare. He just nodded and trembled.
“You seen that Confederate flag tattoo, right?” he asked and Lamar nodded. Nelson spat on the wooden floor of the shower tent. “He racist as shit.”
“He told me he wasn’t, he said he lost his virginity to a black girl,” Lamar said.
“Yeah, that’s just what he say. It’s true — I think — but he ain’t tellin’ the whole story cuz he don’t know you yet. That black girl was a prostitute his papa bought him. He told me that last year,” Nelson said.
“Oh. Okay.”
“They’s all racist. They don’t like me givin’ ’em orders,” Nelson said.
“They seem to respect you.”
“They do, but they don’t like it,” Nelson said. He cleared his throat and leaned back so the water ran over his powerful chest and big cock — Lamar couldn’t tell how big it really was because he refused to look directly at it, but even out the corner of his eye, he could tell it was big. “You like it here?”
Lamar shrugged. “The pay’s good.”
“That ain’t what I asked, boy. I’m gonna talk to yo’ uncle when I go back to the office tomorrow,” he said. “What should I tell him?”
“Tell him it’s fine, tell him I’m doin’ good,” Lamar said.
Nelson nodded. “Okay.” He paused, then whistled and placed one hand on Lamar’s flat belly. “You got a nice six-pack, boy. You probably get all kinds of girls with that, huh?”
Lamar burned with embarrassment as he mumbled his agreement. The other workers had been making fun of his ladysman smile and taut belly as well. Really Nelson had pretty close to a six-pack too — not quite, there was a hint of pudge there, but it was close enough that Lamar didn’t see much of a difference between their bellies.
His entire body tensed at the touch of Nelson’s hand. Lamar was a star basketball player, so he was used to his coach slapping his ass and rubbing his back. But something about the darkened, humid environment made this more nerve-wracking.
“You doin’ okay wit’out a girl here?”
Lamar nodded, then realized Nelson couldn’t see that. “Yeah,” he said, as casually as he could muster. Nelson’s hand slipped around his belly and clutched the small of his back. It rested there, gripping him loosely. Nelson’s hand was callused and firm, his fingers thick.
“You ever mess around on the downlow?”
His words hung there in the humid shower air. Lamar gulped. “No,” he said. He trembled, cursing himself for looking weak in front of Nelson.
Nelson chuckled dryly. “Really? That don’t sound like the truth, nigga.”
“Well… I mean…”
“You ain’t gotta go on,” he said. “I know what that means, you don’t wanna mess wit’ those rednecks. I don’t mess around with white men neither. Reminds me too much of prison life.”
“Okay.”
“You ain’t no kinda white man,” he said.
“Yeah…”
“You wanna jack me off?”
“No…”
“You wanna take it in the ass?”
“No way!” Lamar yelped and bit his lip as Nelson took his hand and placed it on Nelson’s thick rod. It spasmed as soon as Lamar touched it. Lamar felt a shudder of disgust, as well as horniness, run up his body. He’d been on the DL with some buddies in the past but never an older man like Nelson. Nelson sighed loudly, right in Lamar’s ear. Lamar’s heart raced and he shuddered. He tried to take his hand away, but Nelson held it in place, and Lamar had no choice but to hold onto its hot, throbbing thickness. Lamar gulped. “I, uh… If we on the downlow, that means I get to stick you too, right, nigga?”
“What was that?”
“I mean… sir.”
“Thank you. No, that ain’t right, Lamar. I’m yo’ boss. How would it look if I let you put it in me?” He said, softly, moving his mouth right next to Lamar’s ear.
“Nobody is here-“
“They could walk in,” he said. He kissed Lamar on the ear. “How about this, nigga? I’ll give you a reacharound.”
“What’s that?” Lamar asked before he had even given it any thought — of course it was obvious if you paused to consider it. He blushed, thinking he probably sounded naive. He knew what a reacharound was. His mind simply wasn’t working fast enough to keep up with the reality unfolding around him.
Nelson laughed. “Your uncle ain’t nevuh tell you what a reacharound is? He ain’t tell you ’bout prison?”
“Uh… My mom won’t let him tell me that stuff. She says it’s impolite to talk about prison.”
“Oh, you one of dem sheltered chilluns, huh?”
“No!”
In one smooth motion, Nelson slid behind Lamar. He wedged his dick between Lamar’s cheeks. Nelson was rock-hard, already leaking precum into Lamar’s ass.
“Well, when yo’ uncle and me was in prison together, we had sum rules. The guards took it serious, nigga,” Nelson said. He leaned in close so he could whisper in Lamar’s ear. “They ain’t wanna get involved when inmates get in fights with stiffies. So they make up a rule. You can do whatevuh it takes to blow a nut if the nigga on top give a reacharound. Then you ain’t a bitch, not a punk, you just lettin’ another man use yo’ butthole for awhile.”
Lamar shuddered. He bit his lip and looked down.
“Don’t be like that, nigga. We messin’ around on the downlow,” Nelson said. “Don’t go telling yo’ uncle I hurt you. I ain’t. You can tell me to fuck off if you want.”
A part of Lamar did want to tell him that, but a bigger part of him didn’t want to. Not only would it be easier to just go along with it, Lamar was very horny. He hadn’t realized how much he was going to miss girls. Back when he messed around on the DL in his old neighborhood, Lamar had always sworn he wouldn’t do it again, but when the opportunity presented itself and he was horny… the prospect of getting it in the butt seemed like a good trade for getting to blow a nut himself. He let his stiffies guide him then. It was only after it was all over that Lamar again promised himself that next time he would say no.
He was older now, more mature, better able to handle the sometimes intense horniness arising from his crotch.
“Will you jerk me off too? On the downlow?” Lamar asked. “I mean… since you don’t wanna take it in the ass-“
“Nah, I don’t do that,” Nelson said, taking Lamar’s words as acquiescence. “Thank you, baby. I’ll tell yo’ uncle you doin’ real good. I won’t tell ‘im about this.”
“Okay.”
“It don’t count in the dark, nigga. By the time morning comes around, you gonna be walkin’ normal again,” he said. “And if not, I’ll take you with me back to the office, so you get a whole day to recover. It’ll be like this nevuh happened.”
Then Nelson pumped his hips, slamming his dick into Lamar’s ass. Lamar bucked and squealed. A sharp burst of pain hit him, and he arched his back. Lamar held his breath and gripped the hose supplying his showerhead for support.
“Sssh, sssh,” Nelson said. “When you and yo’ buddies mess around on the downlow, you ever do it in the butt?”
“Uh… no…” That wasn’t true, but Lamar didn’t want to admit it to Nelson.
Nelson smiled. “I ain’t realize that, nigga. Hmm-hmm, I’s takin’ yo’ intactness,” he said. “Sorry ’bout that.” He paused to grab a bar of soap and work up a lather. He used that as lube as he slowly worked more of his dick into Lamar. He handed Lamar the bar of soap so he could use both hands to guide his cock.
As soon as he grabbed the soap, Lamar knew he was going to drop it. It slipped right out of his hand and plopped onto the wet wooden floor. Lamar gasped, and Nelson laughed.
“Go on then, bend over,” Nelson said. “That’s a better position anyway.”
Sharp, shooting pains ran up his side as Lamar bent over. He had no sooner touched the soap when another ray of agony shot through him. Lamar gasped as a deep ball of pleasure boiled up too — it felt distant for now, like it occurred behind all the pain, but it was undeniably there.
“Grab yo’ ankles, boi,” Nelson said.
Lamar did so. He couldn’t decide if this was a more or less painful position than any others. He gritted his teeth as Nelson pushed another inch or two of his dick in, and that pit of pleasure grew stronger.
Then Nelson’s hand crept around and grabbed Lamar’s dick. Lamar yelped again, even though it wasn’t a surprise. He lifted his head as intense pre-orgasmic energy roiled through him.
His ass loosened up enough that Nelson could plow him more easily, a fact that Lamar found humiliating. It was comforting to know that Nelson wouldn’t bring this up tomorrow. Nelson even kissed him on his grizzled neck, his own thick mustache bristling against Lamar’s skin.
Then Nelson’s free arm wrapped around Lamar’s body and held him close. His smooth chest rubbed against Lamar’s back, muscles rippling. Lamar’s dick pulsated beneath Nelson’s grip. Lamar wanted to let go but didn’t. The more he squeezed, the more Nelson’s whole body rippled and his muscles flexed where they pressed against Lamar’s limbs.
“You gonna nut now, nigga?”
“I dunno…” Lamar said, breathless. He wasn’t lying, but as soon as he said it, he knew the correct answer was yes.
Nelson seemed to realize that. He licked Lamar’s cheek. “I love feelin’ niggas orgasm when my dick’s inside ’em. So go on. I wanna feel it,” he said. He repeated himself over and over, his deep, gruff voice resonating in Lamar’s ear. Lamar really wanted to tell him to shut up, but before he could, his orgasm hit him. He moaned and bucked, hips flexing as he pushed his ass backwards onto Nelson’s manhood.
Hot cum sprayed within the shower, mixing with the warm water and slipping between the slats of wood that made up the floor. Lamar writhed in Nelson’s biceps as pleasure erupted deep within him.
Nelson held on tight as the orgasm burst in Lamar’s ass, spreading throughout his body. Then Nelson let out a long low sigh right in Lamar’s ear, making the hair on the back of his neck stand up.
Both of Nelson’s arms wrapped around Lamar’s belly. “Sorry ’bout this, nigga. Might hurt a bit,” he said softly. Then he rammed his dick in and out in a series of long, smooth actions. Blinding pain erupted in Lamar’s ass, and he bit his lip to avoid screaming. The pain grew more and more intense before transforming into intense bliss.
He didn’t know how long Nelson plowed him hard like that. It felt like eons, but was probably only a few seconds. Soon enough, it was over and Nelson held on with his dick at maximum penetration.
Then hot semen spurted out, coating Lamar’s insides. Lamar moaned, embarrassed at how orgasmic the sound was — he didn’t mean to sound like he was enjoying this, even if a part of him did enjoy it. Intense sensations wracked his body, and he cried out as spasms of pleasure spread through his frame. He hoped it sounded like pain to Nelson, so he wouldn’t think Lamar wanted to do this again.
He did want to do it again. He just didn’t want to want to do it again.
He shuddered with humiliation as wad after wad of cum flowed into him. It dripped down his thighs and landed on the floor. The creamy semen seeped into every corner of Lamar’s body.
“Gimme yo’ hand, boy,” Nelson said with a growl. “I don’t like it when my dick just fall out of a nigga’s ass. Keep stroking it, okay?” He placed Lamar’s hand on the root of his limpening dick as he slowly withdrew it.
Lamar gulped nervously but did as he was told. Nelson’s dick was thick and slimy, dripping with shower water, soap suds, dried sweat and sticky semen. Lamar’s stomach churned and he gagged at the warm texture of it.
Finally it was all the way out. Nelson kissed him on the lips, and even shoved his tongue into Lamar’s mouth. Then he stepped away and washed his dick off in the stream of hot shower water.
“You okay, nigga?” he asked.
Lamar winced and straightened his legs. He still felt burning pain, and deep inside, remnants of his orgasm, but he tried to hide it. He mumbled, “Yeah, it’s okay, nigga.”
“What?”
“I mean… I’m okay, sir.”
“Good. I put a tub of aloe in yo’ bunk. It’s under yo’ pillow,” Nelson said as he walked back to his clothes. He didn’t put them on though, he just put that hardhat back on his head — that was legally required, after all — and picked his clothes up. “Put that aloe in your ass. It’ll help,” he said, then walked out of the tent, bare cock flapping in the breeze.
Lamar breathed a sigh of relief. That hadn’t been too painful, he thought, and at least he didn’t get caught. He shuddered at the silhouettes of his redneck coworkers, who were still hanging out by the campfire, hollering at each other and thwacking each other’s asses with their cocks.
The sound of their carrying on filled the night sky. Lamar just smiled, washed his ass off and walked to his tent. That had been humiliating, he thought, but fun as well, and it seemed like a worthwhile trade if it gave him a chance to work here and pay off his debt. Just like Nelson, he remained naked on the walk to his bunk except for the hardhat he kept on his head. The aloe was there at his bunk, just as Nelson had promised, and it did help the pain.
He managed to sink into restful sleep before the rednecks even got back to their bunks, and for the first time since he got there, Lamar felt like he was where he was supposed to be.
When a roughneck comes by Avery’s place to ask for money, Avery just might be in for more than he bargained for… a lot more! That’s because this blue-collar stud has got more meat than he knows what to do with.
Luckily Avery knows exactly how to handle this much meat!
Read the whole thing here!
Avery was glad to have the house to himself on Thanksgiving. He was living with his sister, her husband and her two daughters, but they were all away at Avery’s brother-in-law’s parents’s house. Avery was invited but begged it off. He rarely got the whole house to himself, and he didn’t want to waste the opportunity. Besides that, he didn’t like his brother-in-law’s family, and he didn’t get the impression they liked him much either. So he was alone for the holiday weekend. He couldn’t really complain though, he had a whole apartment above the garage, so he didn’t have to see his nieces at all if he didn’t want to (and there were times he definitely did not want to see the screaming terrors).
But he did love holidays, so he was disappointed that he didn’t have anyone to celebrate it with. Tomorrow, he and a few friends would be having a Friendsgiving after a day of shopping, but that wasn’t really the same thing.
There was a knock on the garage door. Avery was in the main house right now, since he could have it to himself, but he heard someone banging hesitantly on the garage door.
A deep raspy voice called out, “Hello?!”
Avery peered through the window. There was a man standing there. He was underdressed for the weather, in just a wifebeater and camo pants. There was a light dusting of snow on the ground, and it was very cold for northern California. He shivered. It looked like he hadn’t really given much thought to what he wore in the snow. His massive biceps shook as he trembled in the cold.
He had a shaved head, though a stubble had grown recently, and he had a scruffy beard too. He had a husky build, with muscles bulging out of his wifebeater. He was very tall, carrying himself like a blue-collar worker, Avery thought, maybe a carpenter or plumber. Maybe military. He had a bald eagle tattooed on his heart, just barely visible peeking over the rim of his ragged wifebeater. He looked uncomfortable with his own heft, and Avery was sure he would blush if anyone ever told him how handsome he was. That made Avery want to tell him so.
Avery opened the front door of the house. “Hey,” he said, calling out to the garage where the man knocked.
“Oh, hi, you must be Avery.” He came to the front door and shivered. He looked like he expected to be let in. “I’m Spackle. Albert Spackle, but e’ryone calls me Spackle. I’m Gregory Spackle’s grandson.” He gestured to one of the houses across the way. That made Avery snicker to himself — Mr. Spackle was an elderly redneck who was hilarious in his own little way — his own racist, catankerous and bitter way — Avery could only imagine what Mr. Spackle had told his grandson about him. Spackle smiled nervously. “Can I come in?”
“Uh… Do you… have a reason?” Avery asked. “Sorry, I mean, I don’t know you or anything-“
“No, yeah, I, uh, I guess… I should have expected that. It’s just really cold,” he said. He bit his lip.
“Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?”
“Uh… My granddad said you’d be, uh… that you’d get me inside quicker than a… …” He blushed and didn’t finish the analogy. “Well, I guess he ain’t mean it literally, I should’ve… I, uh…” He shivered again and laughed. “It’s never this cold at Thanksgiving, man, I ain’t even bring no long-sleeves back with me. Uh…”
“Yeah, weird weather this year.”
“Look… My granddad… My granddad — I mean, no offense man, you got like, a lisp and a limp wrist and, uh-” Spackle gestured towards Avery.
“Uh-huh,” Avery said. He smiled and threw his hands up. He suspected where Spackle was going with this, but he wanted to make him struggle to get there. Snow continued falling on Spackle’s broad shoulders, dappling his skin with little white flakes that melted instantly.
“Yeah.” Spackle blushed. His deep voice resonated, filling the doorway and echoing around in Avery’s ears. He had that big-guy voice, all dull and flat, draping over Avery like a baritone blanket. “So my granddad said… Look, I’m gonna be honest wit’ you, I got some money problems right now. Okay? It ain’t like… It ain’t, you know, drugs or nothin’ like that. But, uh… my granddad says you… You like, sometimes pay dudes to like… jack them off, or whatever.” His cheeks turned bright red, and he gestured increasingly wildly. “No offense, man,That’s, uh, but I am, like… I am okay, with the whole… thing.”
Avery chuckled. “So your granddad said I’d fall head over heels in love with you and pay you, so you should come over here to make some money? And I’d just open the door for you right away?”
“Well… He ain’t exactly phrase it like a suggestion. He kinda meant it, like… you know, a bad thing, like somethin’… Like he said basically if I was a deadbeat, you know… He said he’s not giving me money and I should just come over here if I’m… You know, if I need money, I should come here and ask you instead of him. He ain’t gonna give me… Well, he’s old-fashioned.”
“Yeah, I noticed.” Avery sighed and opened the door. “Your granddad is totally right, by the way. I’ll give you two hundred dollars to cornhole me.”
“Oh hell yeah, okay, finally,” Spackle said. He came in and immediately undid his belt, dropping his pants to his ankles. Only then did he begin to unlace his heavy workboots. Spackle looked a lot more confident now that he was inside.
“Finally?”
“I work at an oil rig in the Gulf of Mexico, right? And we get leave off in this crapdunk little town called Masquerez, ain’t jack-shit there to do. All the chicks is Mexican and fat. Not a single one is fuckable. I mean, I still fuck ‘em, but I ain’t proud,” he said with a chuckle. His deep voice boomed; he spoke loudly, like he was used to being on an oil rig where engines constantly whirred. As he removed his boots with his pants around his ankles, his arms bulged and his pecs rippled beneath his wifebeather, which was ripped and stained with layers of grease and industrial lubricant. “And uh… me and my buddies Eddie and Dog and Raffy — he’s from Jamaica — and we all heard this rumor ‘bout this dude who pays money for it, y’know, for swallowin’ dick. And we spent all fucking night chasing this dude, never found him, man. We found one Mexican who ain’t speak no English and he got even less money than me, so we ain’t cornhole him.” He leaned back and wiggled his toes. He propped his feet up on the coffee table. He grabbed the remote control. “You got porn on here?”
“Prolly not. This is my sister’s place. I doubt her husband dares to keep porn in here,” Avery said. “And I bet he’s into something gross like diapers.”
“Ew, nasty,” Spackle said with a chuckle. He burped, settling back on the couch — looking ridiculous in his holey socks and wifebeater, which he seemed to have forgotten he was still wearing. His pants lay crumpled up on the floor beside the couch. “Sorry if that weren’t romantic.” He flicked through the channels and eventually found some hip hop music video channel that was nearly softcore porn. “So, uh… I dunno how you do it. I mean, I know… like the gist of it. But I dunno what to do.”
“Don’t worry, you’ll figure it out,” Avery said. He sunk between his knees in front of Spackle.
“Oh, I should shower first, man, you don’t wanna jerk me off yet,” Spackle said. He chuckled. He sniffed his armpit and wrinkled his nose. “I smell rank, sorry, man.” He was about to take off his wifebeater finally, but Avery stopped him.
“What? No. You are way off,” Avery said. “I love dirty guys.”
“Ew, why?”
“The smell,” Avery said with a smile. He dove his face into Spackle’s armpit, the same one he had sniffed and found wanting. It was disgusting, he was right about that. It was slick with sweat — Spackle’s grandparents kept their house at a sweltering temperature, which was why he had been wearing just that wifebeater and shorts until he put on pants to come over here. So Spackle had been sweating since he got to the house late last night.
His armpit was so wet it was like he had just taken a shower, though the smell proved he hadn’t. Avery also tasted snow that lingered on his muscles.
Avery kissed up Spackle’s arm from his pit, inhaling the filth of his wifebeater as he went. He had tattoos on his arm, a silhouette of a naked woman, an iron cross, a network of barbed wire, and Avery licked an outline of each one. Spackle watched him with a wry smile like he might watch a child explore something mundane. His muscles were stiff, too nervous at being licked like a cat to relax.
Then Avery kissed his shoulder and the lower side of his neck, where a climbing ivy tattoo extended up to his ear. Avery’s hands snaked under his wifebeater and teased his nipples. As soon as Avery’s tongue and lips touched Spackle’s scruffy neck, Spackle’s whole body tensed even more. Avery knew he had made a mistake.
“Ugh…” Spackle sucked in his breath like he was thinking of hitting Avery for kissing him on the neck — that was almost like a real kiss, perilously close to his lips. That was too much for Spackle. He sucked in his breath and grunted.
Avery’s heart skipped a beat. Spackle was huge and bulky and possibly violent. He was a roughneck. Avery wasn’t sure how’d respond. He should not have tried to kiss his neck.
But Spackle just placed one heavy hand on Avery’s head. He gently but firmly pushed him down.
He chuckled nervously and pointed to a spot about a third of the way up his neck — he was very muscular, so he didn’t really have much of a neck. He pointed to just above his shoulders. “You can kiss me up to here, man. No higher than that. We ain’t makin’ out. No hickeys neither. I can’t explain that to my mama.”
“Okay,” Avery said. Spackle breathed a sigh of relief like he thought his rule might have been a dealbreaker for Avery.
Avery didn’t mind. He liked pushing alphas to their limits. He took off his own clothes as he sucked on Spackle’s wifebeater-clad chest and shoulders, below the limit. Spackle was hairy and dusty, and he was tense wherever Avery kissed. Spackle’s skin puckered underneath Avery’s lips.
“Ah… Damn,” Spackle said. He blushed a bright red. “Man, this shit is crazy. I ain’t know it was gonna be like this.” He shifted his weight on the couch. “I mean… they said that dude in Texas, man, he was… It was like a gloryhole thing. Supposedly. You ain’t gotta look at him or nothing. He ain’t lickin’ ya nipples. Shit’s crazy.”
“You like blowjobs from women, don’t you?”
“Hell yeah.”
“You want me to just go straight to swallowing your cock?”
He snorted and chuckled. He whipped his cock out the fly of his tattered brown boxers. He thwacked its limp shaft around, battering Avery’s shoulder with it. He licked his teeth.
“Hell yeah, man, fuck,” Spackle said. He bit his lip, smiling as he thwacked his dick on Avery’s face. “You deepthroat? Ain’t no girls deepthroat no more.”
Avery giggled. He stuck his finger down his throat to demonstrate. He got it way down there before gagging. Spackle lowered his eyes and breathed deeply. His cock twitched.
“Ah yeah, man, like that,” Spackle said, his voice rumbling like he had to force himself not to attack Avery’s throat right now. His muscles flexed under his wifebeater.
“I’ll let you facefuck me,” Avery said. “If you let me get you hard with a little jousting.” Avery giggled.
Spackle laughed a deep barrel laugh. He covered his face with his hands. “Okay, but I’m puttin’ a time limit. One minute, man. If I don’t get hard in one minute, you put it in your mouth. Ain’t no way I’m gonna get hard touchin’ a dick. No offense.”
“None taken.” Avery knew that Spackle was probably right. Avery didn’t care. The point wasn’t to actually get him hard. Avery would just enjoy trying.
Avery kneeled in front of Spackle, who was still sprawled out on the cushions. Avery thwacked his own hefty cock against Spackle’s, and when he did, Spackle’s whole body jerked. Spackle’s eyes were closed, one hand covering his face. He groaned and giggled like a boy. He covered his eyes with both arm.
“Ah, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit,” he said. His voice was muffled by his arms. “That’s nasty…”
“You ever touch cocks with another man?” Avery smushed his erection against Spackle’s limpness, while Avery’s hands slipped under his wifebeater to grope his chest.
“Nah… I mean… Maybe kinda.” He laughed again, his anxiety evident in the wavery tone of his voice. His face was covered by his forearms, but even through the gaps in the flesh, Avery could see his dingy face turning red like a cranberry. He giggled so uncontrollably he squealed like a mouse, a very deep-voiced, raspy-throated mouse.
“You okay, Spackle?” Avery asked as he stroked both cocks together. Avery’s was smooth and clean, while Spackle’s was tan, veiny, knobbly, and even had a small faded scar along the top of it, near the root.
“Yeah.” Spackle had to take a deep breath to regain control of himself. He peered through his fingers, but when he saw his cock touching Avery’s, he squirmed and re-covered his eyes. He cleared his throat and tried to regain his composure. “Nah, it wasn’t nevuh like this.” He paused and bit his lip. “Alright, yeah. One time. Raffy — that’s that Jamaican dude — he was… he had this game. He said it was Jamaican but some other dude googled it and said he saw nothin’ ‘bout it in Jamaica or anywhere else.” He paused and laughed. “I only did it one time. But, uh… He like come up at ya wit’ his big floppy dick, and you… you know, you hit each other’s dicks and shit. Like joustin’ for real, you know? And uh… if you back out cuz his dick hurt ya — and Raffy knows how to do that too, he got a massive rod and he uses it like a fucking club, man, he really gets ya with it. He hits ya in the balls with it. Anyway if it hurts and ya gotta back out, you lose, and if you get hard, you gotta suck his dick.” Avery chuckled. “It’s how Raffy always wanna settle things.”
“You did that?”
Spackle talked more fluidly now, still watching his dick limply rub against Avery’s, but his anxiety over it seemed to have dwindled. “Just one time. That motherfucker was trying to take my towel, man. We was in the shower. He said he just forgot his, he wanna share. I was like, I do a lot of things for my friends, but I ain’t gonna let you wipe ya ass off with my towel and then I’m gonna use it. I’m gonna wipe my face off wit’ ya ass all over my towel? No way, no I ain’t.”
“You won?”
He shrugged. “Kinda. We was still goin’ when my boss came in the shower. He don’t tolerate that shit, so he made us stop.” He paused. “Okay, man, start suckin’.” He breathed a sigh of relief when Avery pulled away from his cock. “On the rig, we got a lotta Africans and shit, Arabs, that kind of thing. They ain’t nice about that kinda shit,” he said. “And Indonesians. We got Indonesians.” He shifted his weight on his asscheeks.
Once the minute was up, Avery stopped jousting — he waited for Spackle to tell him, so it was actually more like three minutes. Spackle’s dick roped around in Avery’s grip and rubbed against Avery’s cock, but when he was done, Avery kissed a trail down Spackle’s chest. He reached his crotch, kissed his cock on the top and then very briefly, chastely, kissed Spackle on the lips. No tongue. Spackle groaned anyway, and before he could complain, Avery swallowed his cock as deep as he could go in one motion.
His cock remained limp at first, as an awkward silence filled the room. Avery wondered if Spackle would even be able to get hard — not all guys could do it, no matter how much money they were offered.
But then finally, Spackle’s dick perked up. It twitched in Avery’s mouth, then got firmer and firmer. Spackle watched like he had never seen this happen before. His eyes were open wide.
“Ah, yeah, yeah, like that,” Spackle said. He moaned like Avery was scratching an itch he hadn’t been able to reach for a long time. He leaned back on the couch. He grabbed his pants and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. “Can I smoke in here?”
“No, sorry. It’s my sister’s house. She would literally shit a brick,” Avery said, wiping precum and spit off his chin.
He smiled. “I’d like to see that.” But he did put the cigarettes away, back in the pocket of his workpants on the floor. He shrugged. “I’m trying to quit anyway.”
Avery rammed his head all the way down on Spackle’s cock. He gagged, but he kept his mouth in position, even as his throat clenched and fought against Spackle’s shaft. He choked up spit, while Spackle groaned and grunted.
He was a very loud humper. Spackle kept on making sounds, whirring and hooting at himself, chuckling at jokes only he heard, shifting his weight on the couch. Avery couldn’t tell if he always did it like this or if he just did it because he was nervous. His wifebeater shook as his muscles al l flexed and stayed tense.
“You ready to cornhole me?”
Spackle blushed again. “Yeah, course,” he said. He said it like a macho man, but it was obvious that he was nervous. When Avery bent over his lap with his ass in the air, Spackle sighed with relief. “Damn, thank god, I was worried you’d be hairy. You shave your ass, right? I’m glad girls don’t get hair in their asses.”
“Girls absolutely get hairy asses,” Avery said as he backed his ass towards Spackle’s lap. “They shave.”
“What? No way.”
“Yes way, I swear. Or a lot of them do, anyway. Not all.”
Spackle wrinkled his nose and watched Avery’s ass collide with his erection. “Well… I don’t much like that, they shouldn’t get hair in their asses, man, that’s gross.”
Avery giggled. His ass rubbed against Spackle’s shaft. “I will be sure to inform the Committee to Regulate Female Asses,” he said. Then he shuddered in both pain and pleasure when Spackle’s dick pushed into his asshole.
Spackle gasped. “Aw, fuck, aw, fuck, man, aw, fuck, I don’t even… Aw, fuck…”
“You like that?” Avery asked.
“Fuck yeah,” Spackle groaned, and his whole body rattled. He absent-mindedly lifted his wifebeater as though going to take it off, but then he dropped it and left it on. He held his breath, watching Avery squirm backwards deeper and deeper onto his cock. “Yo, man, yo… I gotta… Yo, man, you, uh… what kinda positions you like?”
Avery found it difficult to concentrate while his ass loosened and adjusted to Spackle’s cock. So he just said, “Any, really. What do you want to try?”
“No big deal, just… no girls ever wanna do this,” he said. “They say it hurts too bad. Man, girls complain a lot. Why don’t you complain?”
“Cuz I like getting it up the ass from dirty guys with big monster dicks,” Avery snapped. “Girls don’t.”
He sniffled. “Fuckin’ bitches…” he said. There was a faint note of pride there, he enjoyed hearing talk about his “monster dick”. He wrapped his arms around Avery’s chest. He rotated so that he laid out on the couch — he was a little too tall, so his feet had to be angled off the edge. Avery struggled to remain atop his cock, but all the extra motion made him horny enough to burst.
Spackle hugged Avery to keep him close, and Avery’s back rubbed against his filthy wifebeater Avery held his breath, trying to endure the awe-striking pressure in his ass. Spackle’s entire cock was in him, throbbing, and since he was mounted on Spackle’s sweat-slippened body, Avery could do little more than slide around on his muscles.
But Spackle wrapped his arms over Avery’s chest, and he even hooked his legs around Avery’s ankles. That pinned Avery on his back on Spackle’s chest and cock. The smell of his unwashed roughneck body was overpowering, like Avery was bathing in his funk.
“This alright, man?” Spackle asked.
“Hell yeah.” Avery’s voice was weak and thready. “Girls are never going to like this position, Spackle. It hurts. I like it because… well, for my own reasons. Don’t bother asking girls to do this.”
He sighed. “I know.” He took a deep breath and started ramming his dick upwards into Avery’s ass. He was quick like it was a race, like he was trying to shatter Avery’s insides. Avery yelped and screamed, in pain at first but then with pleasure flowing through his veins.
Spackle’s cell phone rang. He cursed and answered it, only slowing down a little bit. “It’s my sister,” he said like he didn’t want to talk to her.
He answered it anyway though. “Hey. I’m around. Near the house. None of your business. No. No. No! No! No! You better not!” His cock trembled in Avery’s ass. Spackle breathed heavily but tried to conceal it. He wiped sweat off his brow and smeared it on his wifebeater. “I am not! I don’t even know none the neighbors here. Grandpa is an asshole, I don’t think he was right about that. I’m… at the store! I wanted to pick up a…”
“Bottle of wine.” Avery whispered, struggling to speak with the intense pressure in his ass.
“A bottle of wine! I wanted to get wine for dinner tonight! Yes, I know what wine is! We’re not that barbaric on the oil rig, you know! Oh, you think you know everything? I ain’t a rentboy, shut up!” He hung up the phone. His cock twitched angrily in Avery’s ass. “Fucking bitch. She knows where I am, by the way. If she ever asks, I didn’t come over here. I’ll tell her I dropped the wine and broke it on the way back.”
“I have wine,” Avery said. “You can take a bottle.” His voice was tense, breathless, clipped. He sounded like he was near tears, though he was merely near orgasm instead. “You can leave out the back. You can come out down the street, it’ll look like you’re coming back from the store.”
“Shit, alright, thanks,” he said. He took a deep breath. “I wanna do somethin’ nice for you, but I can’t think of nothin’. Don’t ask for a reacharound, I don’t do that.”
“Take a video of that Jamaican guy. Record yourself thwacking dicks with him. I wanna watch,” he said, ramming without even paying attention to it, like he was just moving on auto-pilot. Avery sighed as his prostate sent wave after wave of pleasure through his body.
Spackle gagged and winced. “Ah…” He smiled. “Oh, okay, yeah, I’ll just tell him it’s for a girl, alright? I’ll say I know a girl who wanna see it.”
“Yeah, that’s fine.” Avery yelped like a puppy. He at last reached orgasm as Spackle finally began fucking again, triggering Avery’s whole body to tense and send pleasure pounding up his spine. Spackle didn’t notice right away because he was focused on his own cock, which spasmed as his balls drew up in his sac.
Then Spackle moaned in disgust when he saw Avery spray cum over his belly and chest. It covered Spackle’s muscles and matted his wifebeater to his skin. Spackle closed his eyes and muttered a complaint about the cummy smell. “Nasty…”
But it didn’t slow him down any. He groaned right into Avery’s ear. He jackrabbited his cock into Avery’s ass again, so hard and so violently that Avery screamed in both pain and pleasure. His fucking accentuated the orgasmic aftershocks that wracked Avery’s body.
“I’m gonna nut, man, gonna nut, gonna fill you up, aw shit, man aw shit, aw shit!” His voice gradually rose to a plaintive yell.
Hot cum spurted into Avery’s ass. It was a thick, creamy load, even denser and stickier than most. It coated Avery’s ass in warmth, and it kept on going. Avery took a deep breath and savored the feel of looping jets of cum covering his prostate and dripping throughout his body.
Spackle sighed grandly. When Avery moved, Spackle gasped and held Avery’s hips in place. His cock twitched, which made Avery hold back a howl of pain. The movement kept his post-orgasm going, however, and Avery shuddered uncontrollably.
At last Spackle was done. Thick gobs of cum dripped down his shaft and into his pubic hair. He shuddered too, and then he fell limp.
Even when Avery lifted off him, Spackle just sprawled out on the couch. He groaned. He burped again. Avery stretched his legs and grabbed some napkins. He cleaned off Spackle’s cock, which rapidly limpened in Avery’s fingers. Spackle took off his wifebeater, which had Avery’s cum on it.
“Damn,” Spackle said. He sighed. “Do I gotta go back to my family? Can I stay here all day?”
“Fine with me.”
He frowned. “I know. But I can’t. My mama would kill me,” he said. “You’ll still be here tonight?”
“Yes,” Avery said. He went into the kitchen to grab a bottle of wine. He handed it to Spackle.
“Good,” he said. He smiled. “Will you pay me again tonight?”
Avery giggled. “Not five hundred dollars.” He wrote out the check to Thomas Spackle and handed it over. In the memo field, he had written meat, but Spackle didn’t even look at it yet.
“Oh.”
“Don’t worry though. We can have fun, and I bet you can make some money one way or another. Maybe not five hundred bucks…” Avery said. Spackle nodded and agreed. He put his pants back on, then offered Avery the cum- and filth-encrusted wifebeater, which was soaked in his sweat. He left through the back door. Avery watched him sneak down the street, then shiveringly walk bare-chested back to his grandfather’s house, carrying the bottle of wine.
Avery took a deep sniff of the musk staining his wifebeater, and he smiled with satisfaction. He hoped Spackle would come back one day soon.
Avery is a masseuer who occasionally lands a taste of a roughneck from an oil rig, but when Dog Barren comes in, he didn’t think Dog was interested. Dog even says he’d never let a man get with him on the downlow…
But then all rules are off when Dog turns out to really need the sweet, sweet release of Avery’s twink body!
Or read the whole thing here!
Avery swept up his massage room — or his “office”, as he and the other masseurs called it — with an old splintery broom. It had been a slow day, a bunch of old men who wanted handjobs, which Avery was not willing to give, and one lady who needed a genuine massage for medical reasons.
That was Avery’s job. As a certified massage therapist, he dealt with both people hoping he was a prostitute as well as people who needed massages to help with muscle soreness, stiffness or joint pain. It wasn’t a great career, but Avery loved it. He enjoyed the people, the independence — he made his own hours — and perhaps most of all, he loved the men. Not the old men who wanted handjobs, the more rare but rewarded stately, elegant and handsome types. They sometimes asked for handjobs and even more, and as a great admirer of the male form, Avery tried to oblige. No oldies, fatties, losers or stinkwads.
“Hey,” came a deep, solid voice like a taut length of sissel rope.
Avery turned around and was flustered to see a white man with dark skin, tattoos creeping up his neck, his weathered face craggy and worn. He had ropy muscles and long limbs. He was alluring, in a dangerous-drifter kind of way. He had the presence of a silent thundercloud, and he smelled like leather oil.
But he didn’t — this man seemed to be a roughneck. He probably worked at one of the oil rigs outside of town. Those men were rough-and-tumble, crude, rude, mean, often violent. They sometimes came in for massages because they were required to try that first before worker’s compensation would pay them anything for pain relief after an on-the-job accident. But they rarely came in for a second massage. Mostly they were just trying to get worker’s comp or were working a pain doctor for opiate prescriptions and needed to prove they gave massage a try.
“Oh hello, my name is Avery, welcome to Thackenswitch Massage Parlor. What kind of services are you looking for today?”
“Uh… What? I ain’t nevuh done this before.” The dowdy roughneck blushed, which was barely visible because he was so tan.
Avery nodded and waited for the roughneck to say something else. When nothing else proved forthcoming, Avery added, “Are you here for a worker’s comp claim?”
“Nah.”
“Okay,” Avery said. This roughneck seemed like the kind who normally brimmed with confidence and bravado but now came across as nervous. He had that walking-callus thickness that roughnecks get — from the vibrations — everything on oil rigs vibrate — like you could just tell his hands were gonna be leathery. Avery could tell without looking he’d have thick sausagey fingers. “What, uh…? Well, do you have pain? Is that why you came here? You want me to help you with some back pain or something like that?”
“No. I just… I been tense, man. That’s all.”
Avery smiled. “I see. Alright.” He sensed there was more to the roughneck’s motivations, but Avery didn’t know what question to ask. “Why don’t you take off your clothes? Just hop up on the table, and we’ll get started.”
He lifted his t-shirt off over his head. His chest was not exactly muscular, it was toned, worked, wiry, plenty of strength but not a lot of bulk, like he would have been a lot bigger and more chiseled, but he didn’t eat enough protein, so the muscles he had strained to fit within his sun-burnished skin. He chewed on his lower lip.
“What’s your name, sir?” Avery asked as the roughneck took off his heavy boots, which were caked with dust and mud.
“Dog.”
“Dog?”
He nodded like that was totally normal. He hesitated before undoing the belt on his jeans, which were filthy and stained. “Dog Barren.” He undid the belt, but he didn’t lower his jeans.
“It’s okay. If you want me to help you, I need to be able to massage your thighs, even your butt,” Avery said. He gulped. This man looked potentially violent. Maybe he should have just started with a backrub.
It looked like Dog didn’t really trust Avery either. He stood there, belt undone so he held his overly baggy jeans up with one mitteny hand.
“Nah. I ain’t worried ‘bout that,” he said. “I work at the oil rig. I shower wit’ men e’ry day. Ain’t concerned ‘bout no man seein’ me in my all-togethuh. Just… I ain’t sure, y’know…” He took a deep breath and dropped his jeans. He pulled down his boxer shorts and hopped up onto the table. His hoggish fat prick swung between his legs.
Avery suspected Dog would relax once the massage began. Men like him weren’t used to being touched in a gentle, non-sexual way. He wasn’t the kind of man you want to hug. So Avery got some oil on his hands and got to work. Dog’s shoulders were meaty and dully tattooed — his tattoos were hard to see because his skin was so tan — his shoulder-meat broad, rippling beneath Avery’s fingertips. He laid on his belly, moving with the grace of an oafier man, like he was not used to being noticed.
“So, Dog, how long have you been working at the oil rig?”
“Thirteen years. Reckon.”
“Wow, you like it?”
“Nah. Just a job, y’know. I ain’t cut out for other kind of jobs.”
Avery’s hands moved down to Dog’s wiry thighs, which had barely any fat on them at all. He could see Dog’s hairy ballsac and his heavy balls between his legs, but Avery’s eyes were drawn to his asscheeks instead. Dog had nice plump cheeks, just a bit hairy and the face of an angry woman tattooed on one side.
“Is this tattoo…?”
“She my ex-wide. She’s a total cunt. I hate that bitch,” Dog said, his voice still flat and flinty, like his throat was made of charcoal.
“I see.”
“She tol’ the police I hit her, but I ain’t hit her ‘cept this one time, that weren’t the time she called the cops. So that was a lie, yeah? Judge say I gotta pay that bitch alley-money, I ain’t pay her nothing, I don’t even care,” he said with a snort that made his asscheeks jiggle..
Avery worked his hands down Dog’s wiry-muscled legs. “Don’t you get in trouble for not paying it?”
Dog shrugged. “Just gotta go to jail for a little bit. Ain’t so bad.”
“Roll over,” Avery said.
Dog hesitated before doing so. He sucked in his breath and rolled over. Avery saw why he was reluctant to do so — Dog had a hard-on. It wasn’t fully erect, but his fat cock was firm and it stuck up. It looked like he had extra dickskin, Avery thought and had to suppress a giggle, like when you rubbed his cock, even fully hard, it would feel like a lot of dickskin under his hand. Avery liked that. He really wanted to touch it.
“Sorry ’bout the stiffy, man, I ain’t no kinda pervert or nothin’, sometimes I don’t got control over it,” Dog said. “I ain’t had no female for a minute. That’s all.”
“No worries,” Avery said. He bit his lip and cleared his throat. “You seem stressed and anxious.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I can help with that,” Avery said. He wrapped one hand around Dog’s dick, which twitched and throbbed its way to full erection in his hand. Avery smiled. Dog gasped. He lifted his head up. but kept the rest of his body laying flat on the massage table.
Dog looked down at his own cock like he didn’t recognize it. His eyes narrowed to slits. He bit his lip. He closed his eyes, then opened them, then covered them with one dusky forearm, which had the word J-E-S-U-S-C-H-R-I-S-T tattooed in Gothic letters down the underside of it.
With just a few seconds of stroking, Dog’s dick was rock-hard. Its veiny shaft pulsated beneath Avery’s grasp. Avery slid his hand up and down it slowly at first as he checked whether Dog was willing to do this.
He did indeed have a lot of dickskin. Avery again had to suppress a giggle at that.
“I ain’t into no kinda pervert or nothin’,” Dog said again. He kept his head up, but as he watched, he also lifted up his shoulders and upper body, which he supported on his elbows. He growled at Avery and ran his fingers through his dense wad of hair.
His face remained stoic, like he was still apologetic about the stiffy but was stonefacing about Avery giving him a handjob. He licked his teeth.
“Okay.” Avery didn’t stop jacking him off, and Dog didn’t complain.
“You look like a girl.” His voice was gravelly and rough, abrasive like sandpaper in Avery’s ear. It was deeper than seemed reasonable too, considering that Dog was not a big person. He snorted and closed his eyes again, but just like before, it lasted only a few seconds, like he was too nervous to be without sight for long.
“That’s, uh… Yeah.”
He still looked down at his cock in Avery’s hand as though he had nothing to do with it and didn’t know what was happening to it. “Gimme ya hand.” He took Avery’s hand off his cock, then hocked up a big mouthful of spit and spat it into the palm of Avery’s hand. Then he brought it back to his dick. The newly moist texture of Avery’s skin was apparently enough for Dog, who groaned and leaned his head back.
“Can I put my mouth on it?” Avery asked, not sure if Dog would tolerate that.
“Nah. That’s that nasty shit. I said I wasn’t into that. I ain’t in prison,” Dog said, his eyes narrowing to slits. His face turned from shock and shame to menace and danger. His dick pulsated in Avery’s grasp. A few drops of precum leaked out the piss-slit, and Avery eyed them hungrily.
Was he really going to stick to just a handjob? Some roughnecks were like that. There was a whole gaggle of Muslims last year who insisted on handjobs and only handjobs. Their imam brought them every week. But Avery had never met a white American like that.
Wonder what happened in prison to make him not want to do it…
“Okay, no problem.” Avery was disappointed. He didn’t love the idea of just giving a handjob, and that precum looked salty and fresh and delicious as his hand stroked it into a creamy smear coating the upper third of his dickshaft.
But it seemed that was all Dog was willing to allow. So he just kept stroking, both hands now. Dog’s warm spit sliding between his fingers and coating his hand. Avery spat on his own hand. Maybe it was coincidence, but the moment after he spat, Dog’s cock throbbed in his hand, and Dog’s pecs rippled. It was the body language of a gasp, but Avery didn’t hear a gasp.
“You can kiss it.” Dog threw his head back and maybe gasped at last, or maybe he just grunted or licked his teeth, Avery couldn’t tell because he threw his head back.
Avery smiled. He thought he knew where this was going. He kissed Dog’s cock on the tip, right on the piss-slit, and he made sure to generate a mouthful of saliva that ran down the shaft. The musk and zest of Dog’s precum and his dickmeat and both his and Avery’s spit flooded Avery’s senses, and he noisily slurped up all the fluids that remained. Then he gently spat them back out to coat his fat cock.
The contact, or maybe the noise, made Dog squirm. The veins in his dick nearly jumped right out of his body and into Avery’s hand, which still moved slowly up and down. Dog began moving his hips, humping Avery’s hand with his cock, though his face remained stony like he was unaware he was doing it.
“Thanks for letting me kiss it,” Avery said. “I’ll just finish the handjob-“
“That weren’t no kiss. A cock-kiss got tongue, man. Use a little tongue. Do not jerk me off wit’cha mouth, I ain’t that kinda ex-con..”
Avery nodded. He lowered his head again, planted his lips right on the tip of Dog’s cock and kissed it. This time he did it loudly, flickering his tongue out and smearing more spit all over it. That taste assaulted his tongue again, and Avery kissed a trail down the shaft to Dog’s cockroot. He hefted Dog’s hairy ballsac in one, looking up at him to see if he’d object. He did not.
Dog shuddered and grunted, the sound turning from aroused to angry as he jabbed his fists into the air. He roared. He nearly hyperventilated, as another burst of precum flowed from his knob. Avery slurped it up — his lips still pursed like a kiss, so he was, as far as Avery was concerned, still abiding by Dog’s limits.
“Dog? I want to swallow your cum,” Avery said. He figured it was time to end the charade and just say what he meant. He smiled sweetly up at Dog, who bristled, his upper lip twitching like Elvis — he liked to be flattered, Avery suspected. “You have a perfect cock. It’s so big, and you’re so strong. I want you so bad. Please let me swallow your cum.”
“Fine, but only cuz you beggin’ so bad, man,” he said. He scoffed. “You pitiful.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “No way I’m puttin’ it in your ass though. Don’t even ask ‘bout that.”
There was something in the way he said that that made Avery think he meant the opposite. He sounded like he could and perhaps wanted to be talked into ramming Avery in the ass, almost as easily as he had been talked into letting Avery swallow his cum.
“Will you ram my face, please? You can pretend my throat is a pussy,” Avery asked. He blushed and deep-throated Dog’s dick without waiting for a response. “I’m good at that.” He smacked his lips. “Real good, I can swallow-“
Dog grunted and wrapped his hands around Avery’s head and started to grind, shoving his cock deep into Avery’s throat. He moved like he didn’t notice he was interrupting Avery. That musty taste, like his cock had been cooped up in those workjeans for weeks, made Avery croon around the meat in his throat. It tasted so good his hands reached all the way up Dog’s body and to tweak the nipples atop his rippling taut pecs. Dog groaned as though this was scratching an itch he had been unable to reach for a long time.
All of his muscles flexed as he throated down Avery, who was indeed an expert at swallowing huge cocks — he was fine with it, loving the struggle as his throat cried out for oxygen. He loved it even more when Dog’s legs rested atop Avery’s shoulders, as though putting him in some kind of cock-handling chokehold. He used those wiry legs to pin Avery’s head in place, while Dog’s hands pushed his head down to the root of his fat cock.
A burst of precum or maybe an initial foray of jizz flowed down Avery’s throat. The taste was salty and creamy, and it tasted so good Avery gurgled even as it made him choke and gag some more. A big ball of spit and fluids slipped out past his lips and soaked Dog’s pubic hair.
“Ah, shit, yeah,” Dog murmured. His hands stroked Avery’s scalp through his hair. His muscles tensed and flexed. Avery’s hands moved up to Dog’s chest, caressing his pectorals and rubbing his shoulders. Dog grumbled. “I ain’t gonna ram you, man.”
Avery just smiled and nodded without taking Dog’s cock out of his throat. He let it squeeze down his neck, and he sputtered as it sprayed its seed down his gullet. Avery still couldn’t decide if it was precum or real jizz. Dog’s moaning voice broke like it was cum, but then he took his dick out and it was still hard. More precum flowed from the piss-slit in pulses though, Dog groaning each time like he was holding back an orgasm.
“Get up,” Dog said, his deep voice echoing in the massage room. “Lay on your back.”
It was clear he was about to ram Avery in the ass, no matter what he said just a few seconds ago. Avery smiled and wiped spit off his face. “Okay. Will you be gentle? You’re such a big man, you could hurt me. Please don’t hurt me too bad?”
Dog glowered. “I ain’t say I was gonna ram you. I don’t do that.” He took a deep breath. “I won’t hurtcha too bad. You ain’t as bad a bitch as my ex-wife and I ain’t nevuh hurt her, so you be okay, man. Just get on yer back.”
Avery loved getting it up the ass as roughly as possible. So he wasn’t worried about that situation. He actually liked the idea of making Dog work for it, especially now with his dick raging, demanding attention.
“Have you ever done a man up the ass?”
“Nah,” Dog said. “I rammed this fellah in the ass in the shower once, but don’t ask me ‘bout that. It was an accident. It don’t proper count. I ain’t never booty bandit no bitch though. Don’t say I did, I ain’t like that. Couple times I did. Only when I had to. It don’t count, you can’t count it.”
“Okay,” Avery said with a grin. He laid on his back on the massage table, lifting his feet in the air. Dog placed Avery’s feet on his shoulder muscles, so Avery could grip his flesh with his toes — and, Avery thought, so he couldn’t run away.
A frown appeared on Dog’s face as he lowered his knees a little to line his cock up with Avery’s ass. He looked away but guided his dick in with one hand.
A burst of intense pressure hit Avery’s senses. He moaned. The pain was overwhelming at first, but it lasted only a moment before he felt a wave of pleasure, dim and dismal at first. It grew, however, with each thrust of Dog’s dick inside him. Dog grunted as though each thrust hurt, but then he grunted again on the outswing of his thrust as though it felt so good he was melting.
Dog kept his head to the side, looking at the wall. He held his breath when he encountered resistance in Avery. Avery’s fingers tightened into claws that dug into the cushion of the massage table, while Dog inexorably pushed his dick in deeper, inch by inch.
“You got nice, pretty toes like a little girl.” Dog said with a long, low groan. Avery’s feet were still propped up on Dog’s shoulders, Avery’s toes curling up and gripping his flesh. Dog picked up one of Avery’s feet and sucked on the big toe, the taste of which made him shudder. His muscles flexed and his dick throbbed within Avery’s ass.
As Avery’s hand finally reached his own cock to start jacking off, he felt a surge of pleasure emanating up his spine from his sensitive prostate. It tingled, growing more alive and awake with every touch from Dog’s dicktip exploring his insides.
Dog moved his hips in a slow circle like he needed to tickle Avery in some hard-to-reach cranny of his body. Dog groaned, licking Avery’s foot and sucking on his toes, which made Avery giggle like a schoolgirl.
Avery’s free hand roamed up to Dog’s chest, where he teased those powerful pecs — they weren’t big, but Avery could tell how strong Dog’s work-toned body really was. Dog reacted like it hurt when Avery touched his nipples, and he howled like his namesake.
Avery’s orgasm came on slowly, bit by bit, but he could feel it growing as Dog continued to hump. He could feel it coming from Dog too, in his breathing speeding up, his face turning slightly reddish and then, at last, his balls crawling up in his sac.
In the end Avery shot his load just a few seconds before Dog, the intense pleasure that rocketed through his body being enough for Avery to clench down on Dog’s dick. That caused Dog to shake and grunt so loud it made the framed pictures on the wall rattle.
“Gonna shoot my babies up in you now, girl… You best not get pregnant…” Dog closed his eyes and wrinkled his nose.
A burst of hot, creamy cum sprayed within Avery, whose entire body tensed around Dog’s dick. The most mind-numbing pleasure of his life assaulted Avery, making him squirm and wiggle on the dick his ass was impaled on. He squealed like a piglet and roared like a jaguar, all while slithering down on Dog’s dick like a snake.
Dog didn’t slow down. He wrapped both of Avery’s legs in his arms, holding them tight so Avery couldn’t do anything more than submit. He kept slamming his dick in slowly but deeply, wiggling it around as he took a deep breath and watched Avery writhe.
He kept on going, moving slower and slower but still jamming his dick in, even as it finally grew limp. Dog rattled and shook. His cock made a big frothy mess of bubbly cum inside Avery, spilling out down his thighs.
“Yer ass is nasty,” Dog said with a leering smile, like he was proud of having made it so “nasty”.
Avery crooned and groaned. He bucked as a wave of sensitive prostate-stimulation hit him. He squirmed, his ass now exquisite and tingling, sensations too potent for him to cope with as Dog moved around inside him.
“I won’t nevuh kiss a man,” Dog said, his entire body suddenly still. “Nuh-uh. No way.”
“Okay…” Avery’s voice was tight and clipped. Dog’s dick was still in his ass, his feet were still bundled up and squeezed between Dog’s arms. He could have squirmed away if he’d really wanted to, but the intensity of Dog’s manhood in his ass made Avery want to stay, and besides that, every movement he took caused uncontrollable waves of painful ecstasy to erupt in his ass.
“You gonna seduce me?” Dog asked.
“Uh…” Avery’s mind was too overwhelmed to think of a real response. All he could do was gasp and croon as though on the edge of tears.
Then without a second though, Dog dived his head down and kissed Avery passionately, sloppily, moistly, right on the lips. Their tongues collided in Avery’s mouth.
With his dick finally flopping out of Avery’s ass, tremendous relief flooded him. It was like a second little post-orgasm orgasm, which a burst of pleasure hitting him all over again. He groaned into Dog’s mouth. He flopped limply, submitting to Dog’s kiss and his rough, callused fingers caressing Avery’s body.
Then at last, and all at once, Dog backed off. He frowned at Avery. He flopped his dick between his fingers and wiped it off with a tissue.
“You seduced me,” he said, his eyes narrowing to slits.
“Uh… Not really. I-“
“Shush,” Dog said. “I don’t nevuh ram men, you best believe that. You believe that?!” He paused. “Huh?!”
“Well… Yeah. I believe it,” Avery said.
Avery sat up, dizzy now that that was over. He hadn’t been rammed that good in a long time. He was still scared, not sure where Dog was taking this.
Dog paused. He bristled and slowly put his clothes on. He ignored Avery the entire time. Only after he had put his shirt back on and tied his heavy boots did he glance in Avery’s direction. “You gonna be around in a couple days?”
“Uh… Well, I work here most days-“
“No. I mean, like, midnight or so. Well, two in the morning, more like, after the bars close.”
“We’re closed then.”
“What’s your address?”
Avery’s rational mind said not to tell him, but Avery’s body and his cock and his prostate all demanded he do it. So even as he told himself not to, he gave Dog his address and phone number.
“If I come by to see you at night when I’m drunk,” Dog said as he headed towards the door. “You best let me in and lemme sleep on yer couch, boy. I won’t steal nothin’, I’s a God-fearin’ man. You better not molest me neither. I ain’t gonna let you jerk me off, and I definitely won’t be sticking you up the ass neither.” He paused in the doorway and took a deep breath. “I ain’t mean to act unchristian towards ya. I’ll come pass out on yer couch, just don’t you dare take advantage of me.”
“Okay, I won’t,” Avery said with a deep sigh. He was glad to see Dog walk away, but Avery already looked forward to seeing him again.
