MN Manmacker's mansploitation
Avery is working the front desk at the legendary Night Along motel when the hardcore pimp Darkie comes by, willing to give Avery a taste of his magnificent manhood. Can Avery service his needs well enough to earn the hard-fought approval of the utter alpha pimp Darkie?!
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When Garvey heads into the truck stop shower, he didn’t know what he was in for! That’s cuz the legendary bottom Avery Flowers is in there, servicing any alpha male trucker who needs a little release! Garvey is eager to get his rocks off, and Avery is eager to get started! Can they both please each other?
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Read the whole thing here!
Avery pulled his truck into the truck stop on the side of the interstate. His ass was sore from sitting so long. He was glad to stretch his legs. The engine whirred and roared, rumbling beneath his ass as he angled the truck into a parking spot.
Then he got out, in the lusty warmth of the evening Texas sun. It had been an unseasonably hot day today, and the heat had lingered like a stench. Now it was dissipating ever so slightly, bit by bit, and Avery was grateful for it.
He wasn’t hungry for food, so he didn’t go to the diner. He ignored the trashy woman who gave him a come-hither stare from the dingy window. The showerhouse, not the diner, was the only reason he had come here.
At all Ramwide Truck Stops, there were four showers, two each for men and women. One of each was for anyone of the appropriate gender. The other was for those who weren’t scared away by the disclaimer on the door.
In this shower, anything goes. Let the bather beware. Adults only.
That was what Avery wanted. For a lot of guys, being on the road meant letting men like Avery do whatever they wanted. It didn’t count as long as they were away from home, on the road.
He had a particular love for truckers and truck stops. So he was disappointed to see no one whatsoever in the showerhouse. His heart sank.
He just showered by himself then. It was a dismal and lonely shower. He didn’t even need the shower, he showered a couple hours ago. He just wanted to be ready in case anyone showed up, and he kind of liked group showers, even without the group. The empty showerhouse had a peaceful, zen-like quality.
It wasn’t until he was almost done that he heard the rumble of a truck engine park. He hurried to the door to peer outside. He wanted to get an idea of who the trucker was.
Not a woman, not a woman, not a woman…
The trucker was a burly man with the gait of an ex-military officer but the long, luxuriant mane of a tango singer, and a mustache that Avery just wanted to suck off his face. The trucker was muscular and thickly built beneath a white tee shirt and jeans. The trucker sauntered over to the vending machines and bathrooms first. Avery was disappointed, but he wasn’t surprised — most people didn’t come here just to go to the truck stop and service men.
So he waited while the trucker went into the bathroom, then to the diner. Avery rolled his eyes and swore under his breath. He sat down on one of the benches that lined the shower.
At last, he spotted the handsome trucker with a dense mop of hair came out of the diner. He patted his belly and headed towards the men’s shower.
The other men’s shower.
Avery was beyond disappointed. After hanging out in this shower for most of an hour, he wasn’t going to get to bust a nut after all. He had almost forgotten the other shower was an option.
He had just about given up hope and considered leaving when he saw the trucker stop. The trucker glanced back at Avery’s showerhouse and hesitated. He took two steps towards the no-funny-business shower, then three steps towards Avery’s.
“Fuck it,” the trucker said, loud enough that Avery could hear it. He grabbed his dick through his rank old jeans and came towards Avery’s showerhouse.
Avery went from grim to giddy in moments. He didn’t want to look like he had been perving out, so he went into the showering area and turned the water back on.
His name was Garvey, and he was nervous. He had never come into one of these showerhouses. He wasn’t sure what to expect. He only did go in this time because he couldn’t stop thinking about sex — his wife had left him last week — and he needed to bust a nut.
Garvey was single (sort of) for the first time in years. He and his wife weren’t compatible on a lot of things, but they were sexually compatible. That was why they had stayed together for so long. She wanted sex every day, and she loved anal, sucking cock, guzzling his cum. She was perfect from Garvey’s perspective, aside from her being a bit chunky and not the prettiest girl around.
But as long as she gave up the ass, Garvey thought, he would have never dumped her. She complained that he was boring though, and she disliked that he spent most of his days on the road. She swore she had never cheated on him, that she was dumping him because she didn’t think she could resist her horniness when he was gone anymore. But the more Garvey thought about it, the more he thought he didn’t believe that — she was so horny all the time, surely she had found a guy while he was gone. She complained if she went one full day without sex when Garvey was at home, so how could she last up to six weeks without him while he was on the road?
The only possible answer was that she couldn’t.
The divorce papers were coming soon. Garvey wasn’t sure yet if he’d sign them. He didn’t even want to think about that until he had to though.
Garvey had let his body go while he was with her. He wasn’t corpulent by any means, but he no longer had the six-pack and barrel chest he’d had in his youth. Now he was just barrel-shaped, all muscle and curvy heft and kinky black fur that covered his chest (and which he had shaved when he was younger — now it was so dense and thick he wasn’t sure he could shave it, while women had come to despise body hair in general, he didn’t think he’d ever get laid again if he didn’t start shaving).
He belched when he came into the shower. He didn’t know what he was going to do. He kind of hoped nobody would be in here. He could just jack off and not feel too grimy.
But he’d been jacking off since she dumped him. Garvey wanted some ass.
As soon as he walked into the shower — it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim light in there — his dick twitched.
There was a man there. He was slim and weak. Garvey could bend him over and plow into his tight hole. It would feel just like his wife.
“Hey,” said the man. “I’m Avery.”
“Hmmm….” Garvey wasn’t sure what to say. Despite his big size and demeanor, Garvey was often shy, especially since his wife left him. He felt like everything he said and did was wrong.
Avery was stroking his dick and looking square on at Garvey, who blanched. Garvey had been under the impression from his trucker buddies that these showerhouses were full of other truckers who sat around circlejerking, or sometimes slim men who wore women’s clothes and pretended to be women. So it was either like just chilling with some friends, or it was like plowing a woman. Both of those options had seemed okay to Garvey. He wasn’t sure how to take this more ambiguous situation.
“So where are you going?” Avery asked with a nervous quaver. Garvey glowered, coming closer without having even taken off his clothes. Avery took a few steps back.
Once Garvey was in the showering area, he realized he had forgotten to undress. His dick was hard. Was that normal? But his dick was hard, while Avery still had a half-limp cock. He played with it casually as Garvey took off his sweat-stained tee shirt, kicked off his boots and socks, then dropped his jeans.
He had a big hairy chest that was broad and thick muscled, exactly the sort of men’s physiques Avery most appreciated. He came closer because he could see that Garvey was sweaty — from spending hours crammed in the cab of his truck — and Avery wanted to lick all that sweat up before Garvey got in the shower spray and it was washed off.
His dick hung free, and Garvey tried not to be nervous. He considered leaving. He could turn around and go shower in the other showerhouse.
But then when he looked back at Avery, who sunk to his knees with his mouth wide open, Garvey knew he was going to do it. His dick was already jutting out. Avery aimed his mouth up and either gurgled or said something, Garvey couldn’t tell what because everything was a blur. All he could focus on was the feel of his cock throbbing, pulsating, demanding he do something with it. He needed to ram it in some place tight and dark and moist, and he needed to do it now.
A long loud sigh like nothing Avery had ever heard emanated from Garvey’s mouth, beginning even before his dick touched Avery’s tongue. It was such a strangely loud sound, like a cow with a particularly sonorous moo, that Avery barely noticed the salty taste of his dick.
Avery looked up at Garvey’s eyes, but Garvey had leaned his head back. He looked like he was on the verge of orgasm already, and it had been only half a second. Avery giggled.
“You must be horny…” Avery said as he thwacked his own face with Garvey’s cockshaft. Every time he did, there was a satisfyingly meaty thump, and each time, Garvey jumped.
“C’mon… I need you,” Garvey said, his deep voice crackling with stale moisture. It felt like it had been years since he blew a nut and his balls were about to explode.
“Hmmm…” Avery opened his mouth wide and stuck his tongue out. He planted his tongue on the underside of Garvey’s dick, which twitched when it touched his soft, moist tongue. Avery stayed right there, motionless, his tongue touching the spot where the underside of Garvey’s dick met his ballsac.
Men both loved and hated that, Avery knew well. He waited while Garvey first breathed heavy, his chest rising and falling mountainously, his dick pulsating veinily. Then when he realized Avery wasn’t going to lick any spot other than this ultra-sensitive bit of flesh, Garvey grunted. Avery’s tongue lapped like a cat’s at that one spot.
“C’mon, man, swallow it…” Garvey’s deep voice was plaintive, desperate. His hands flailed. He gripped Avery’s head, then let go.
Still Avery remained right there, smiling around the tongue he kept in place on the root of Garvey’s dick. At last, Garvey started humping, his instincts taking over. That was what Avery was waiting for. Garvey got past his reluctance and began pistoning his hips, rubbing his dick back and forth atop Avery’s tongue.
That meant Avery was ready to move on. He licked all the way up Garvey’s shaft and kissed the tip of his dick. When that made Garvey shudder, Avery kissed it again and again, slathering spit on the tip. The shower was still on, spraying hot water and filling the air with steam, so when Avery’s spit dripped onto the shower floor, it mingled with the warm water and went right down the drain.
“Goddamn, boy, open that throat up, don’t fight it, c’mon, don’t fight it,” Garvey murmured, alternating between plaintive begging and aggressive demands. “Don’t fight it. You makin’ it feel goood…” He gyrated his hips, forcing his cock all the way down Avery’s throat.
A loud baritone moan escaped from Garvey’s mouth. He couldn’t believe how good this felt. Why hadn’t he been doing this all along? His wife had loved sucking cock, but she couldn’t deep-throat like this. She even enjoyed getting facefucked — even then though, she simply couldn’t swallow this much cockmeat. She had never gotten more than half of Garvey’s cock in her throat. Women, Garvey realized, were physically much too small to really swallow a dick properly.
Why did he ever let women give blowjobs? He ought to just fuck women in the pussy, since that was something he couldn’t get from men.
Just a few minutes ago, Garvey wasn’t sure if he wanted to do this. But now that his dick throbbed mightily, leaking precum right into Avery’s throat, Garvey was already making plans to return. He wondered if these showerhouses always had men like Avery, men who could handle a dick like magic, deep-throat him to the root until he could feel his bottom’s throat clench, nose nuzzling his pubic hair. He hoped so, but he feared that Avery was unique.
Avery had to force his own head off Garvey’s cock — Garvey kept trying to ram his face. Even after Avery had removed himself, Garvey kept humping the air like he hadn’t noticed. Avery gave his dick a stroke, then licked a trail down his leg to his feet.
His feet were nice and funky. Avery slathered spit between Garvey’s toes, slurping every drop of nastiness and savoring every bit of it. The taste was grimy and gritty, potent as a punch to the face. Garvey looked down at him like that was crazy — which maybe it was, it certainly felt crazy to Avery — but he didn’t complain or even mention it at all. He lifted one of his feet up so Avery could slather his tongue up and down the underside of it. The bottom of his feet was even more nasty, tasting of the foulness of this truck stop and others, the dirty showers Garvey used.
When Avery was ready to move on, he let out a moan of desire, his own cock throbbing hard between his legs. He sucked up his own footy spit from Garvey’s toes. He gurgled, “You wanna ram my ass-?”
But Garvey was so horny, he cringed and shuddered at the sound of Avery’s moistly seductive voice. Without a moment’s hesitation, Garvey grabbed Avery by the hair and bent him over on all fours.
It all happened so fast that Avery struggled. He nearly fell, and he pulled away until he realized Garvey just wanted him bent over. Avery struggled to get onto all fours. Even though Garvey wanted him in the same position, his hands seemed to be everywhere, pushing Avery and pulling him in every direction, and Avery was too overwhelmed by arousal to get down on his arms and legs on the floor. He liked the feeling of being manhandled by Garvey’s powerful arms.
“C’mon, man, bend over and take it, I need ya ass, boy, I need to get in there. Okay? Huh? Say it’s okay, I’ll ram you so good-” Garvey spoke quickly, like he was desperate to get all this out before his dick rammed up Avery’s backside.
“Ram me in the ass, please…” Avery said with a seductive moan that made Garvey grunt. The sound echoed in the uncleaned linoleum of the Ramwide Truck Stop.
“Goddamn, man…” Garvey pushed his dick in as soon as he could, without waiting for Avery to settle into position. He rammed it in as though he’d get in trouble for every second it wasn’t inside Avery.
Then he sighed, just an inch or so of dickmeat inside Avery’s ass. Garvey could take a deep breath and ponder for a moment — he hadn’t really intended to actually ram a man in the ass. He hadn’t decided he definitely wouldn’t. But he sort of assumed his first time in the Ramwide Truck Stop would be all-oral.
It wasn’t what happened though. Once he saw Avery’s tight asshole, Garvey wanted in it. He plowed in there with a loud grunt and a moan. Every additional inch of dickmeat he got in there sent another wave of pleasure through Garvey’s body, and he let out groan after spine-tingling groan.
He had always loved fucking his wife in the ass, but this was different. She liked it despite the fact that it was a bit painful for her — she liked a bit of pain, she said it made the pleasure better. Avery could sympathize with that point of view. But for Avery, he wasn’t in pain at all. He liked getting rammed in the ass. There was an intense pressure, but it didn’t hurt. It felt good. It felt amazing, and he wanted it as hard and as deep as Garvey could manage. Every thrust sent waves of ecstasy through both men’s bodies.
So Garvey started off a bit ginger, thinking Avery would make him slow down and go more gently like his wife always had. When that didn’t happen, he rammed a little harder. He forced his dick in deeper.
Still, there was no complaint. A surge of pleasure shot up Garvey’s spine, and he grunted. He slammed more of his dick in, until he was all the way inside Avery’s tight ass. His balls thwacked hard against the smoothness of Avery’s firm asscheeks.
“Oh god… ram… me…” Avery had trouble focusing on his words because of the intense sensations flowing through him.
“Shit, boy, fuck yeah. Yee-haw!” Garvey shouted, his reluctance finally dwindling to nothing. Now he understood why his other trucker buddies came in here. You could do whatever you wanted here. As long as there were men like Avery here, you could go more and harder and better and longer than any female would do it. Men could simply take more punishment than women, and they knew how to use the equipment.
Garvey hadn’t even noticed his eyes were closed until he felt Avery pull off his dick. Garvey shuddered, his shaft suddenly cold, his orgasm fading away like a mountain getting smaller and smaller in the rear-view mirror.
Then, before he could even ask what was happening or do anything more than grunt, Garvey was forcibly bent over. His ass was high in the air. Belatedly, a shiver of fear ran through Garvey because it felt like he was about to get rammed in the ass, which he wasn’t willing to endure. If he had more time to think about it and wasn’t overwhelmed by desire, he would have refused to get in that position at all. It certainly wasn’t wise to stay bent over with an accessible bare ass in a Ramwide Truck Stop. That was just begging for a ramrodding.
That wasn’t what Avery wanted though. He put Garvey on all fours over the drain in the center of the showerhouse. Then he spread Garvey’s asscheeks and rammed his tongue right in.
The whole shift took only a second, and Garvey’s dick didn’t lose any of his erection. He wasn’t sure he liked the rimjob at first — it kind of tickled, and it felt like a cat licking him. It didn’t feel bad, but it was hardly erotic either.
And then all at once, Garvey shouted as an explosion of pleasure hit him. It felt so good it almost hurt, and Avery’s tongue explored his ass deeply. It plunged into his prostate, making Garvey’s whole body shake. He lifted up one of his legs like a dog trying to pee, which gave Avery easy access to his cock with both hands.
“Oh god, damn, boy, get ya tongue in there, fuck!” This was something Garvey had never experienced. Even his wife in her most sexually adventurous mood had never wanted to give him a rimjob. She didn’t even touch his ass — she’d offered to peg him, but Garvey had refused, and that was as close as they had ever come.
Now he could plow into Avery harder than he thought possible. Garvey had no idea how long that lasted. It felt like he had rammed for hours. It felt so good he could have done it forever, just laying there, bent over, getting his hairy asshole licked.
It was deliciously nasty. Pleasure visible roiled Garvey’s body as Avery spat up coious saliva into Garvey’s intact asshole. It filled him up and turned into a frothy mess that coated Avery’s face. That tasted so nasty that Avery couldn’t resist sucking it back up into his mouth, and he let out a moan that made Garvey’s whole body shake in throes of ecstasy.
“Shit, man, I’m gonna blow…” Garvey turned around and jammed his dick right into Avery’s throat, which was still wide open, tongue extending mid-lick because Garvey had stopped him in the middle of his rimjob. An explosion of exquisite bliss hit Garvey hard, and he let out yet another baritone moan. His knees went weak the moment his sensitive cocktip touched Avery’s tongue.
He was already shooting his load when he turned around, and the first jet of creamy cum shot onto Avery’s chin. That was quickly smeared into a dripping puddle by Garvey’s balls, which slapped against Avery’s chin as he shoved his orgasmic cock into his throat. He held onto Avery by the head so he could ram down his throat with all his might.
Avery gagged this time because it happened so quickly and without warning. Once he was able to adjust, however, he opened his throat wide. Garvey’s cock plugged deep into him, shooting cum the whole way, coating Avery’s tongue, mouth, cheeks and the back of his throat. Garvey let go of his head because he thought Avery was asking him to, but Avery didn’t pull off even when he could. He savored the feel of a huge cock throbbing in his throat.
That made him sputter and choke even as he swallowed Garvey’s massive cock. He swallowed it to the root and sucked down every drop, while Garvey’s whole hairy body tensed and flexed above Avery’s head.
“Damn, shit…” Garvey grunted and shook. His muscles all shuddered at once, and so did that glorious mustache on his upper lip.
Then he re-gripped Avery’s head and went to the ground with him, balls rubbing over the cummy mess on Avery’s chin. Avery lay on his back in the pool of hot shower water while Garvey rammed his mouth, moving his hips in a circle, making love to the back of his throat. Avery couldn’t resist gagging at last, when Garvey hit the back of his throat, but that didn’t slow Garvey down at all.
Avery was only dimly aware of his own orgasm, which hit him just as Garvey’s was finishing up. Avery’s hands moved of their own accord to stroke his own cock, which spewed a fat puddle of cream that pooled on Avery’s belly. When Avery moved, it spilled onto the filthy shower floor.
At last, Garvey pulled off, his dick sliding out of Avery’s mouth. It was followed by multiple mouthloads of jizz, which Avery spat out as he was overcome by a series of gags. His hands caressed the fleshy firness of Garvey’s asscheeks, which were furry and warm to the touch. Avery giggled through the mouthful of cum that spilled out and coated his face. Garvey chuckled throatily as he flopped, limp and exhausted, covered in sweat — though that was washed off by the shower water right away. He hadn’t even realized another man had come into the shower, and was jacking off as he watched.
That made Garvey nervous, but he was now confident enough he didn’t care. He could handle a man jacking off. He’d handled a lot more than that.
He got up and grinned down at Avery. “Thanks, man… I, uh… This truck stop is great.”
“Yeah,” Avery said. He went over to his clothes., fingers teasing the broad body of the masturbating trucker as he walked by — the new trucker looked disappointed to see that Avery was leaving.
“You come here a lot?”
Avery shook his head. “Not that often. Don’t let that stop you though,” he said. “You’ll always have fun in a Ramwide Truck Stop.”
Then he walked out, still putting his shoes on. He always left quickly. Avery liked to leave his men wanting more.
Avery is a personal trainer for the legendary ex-con Thumper White, when Thumper sets up for him an outrageous alpha male punishment scenario like Avery’s been dreaming of!
Read it soon as an ebook!
Read the whole thing here!
Avery thought his new client was going to be a pain in the ass. He was a rough-looking middle-aged black man, a former pro boxer supposedly. He had argued with and fired two personal trainers already. Rumor had it that he had spent the last thirty years in prison.
He introduced himself as Thumper, and he had a big smile on his round face. He was covered in crude tattoos and muscles, with a thick layer of padding. His tats were faded, maybe prison tats. Avery felt small and weak in front of him, and his knees buckled under Thumper’s withering gaze. He had a simmering intensity that made Avery both uncomfortable and warm, a-thrum with desire. Thumper’s broad chest muscles rippled, already dappled with sweat because he had been on the treadmill before Avery arrived.
“You still like what you see?” His pecs bounced.
“Oh, you… uh, yeah, I think you’ve got a lot of potential. We can work on your abs-“
“Nah,” Thumper said.
A long, terse silence filled the air. Avery thought Thumper was going to say something else, but he didn’t. Thumper pointedly waited. He sniffed, then grabbed at his crotch to scratch his balls. His thick cock was briefly outlined by his shorts, and Avery felt his knees grow weak. A burst of unwashed convict musk hit Avery’s nostrils.
Thumper grinned. “Spot me, man.” He got down on the bench press machine.
Avery began counting along with Thumper’s lifts. One. Two. Three. Normally as he counted, Avery would give some helpful advice, tips or encouragement, but Thumper’s shorts still outlined his cock and Avery couldn’t tear his eyes away. It was so big, like a kielbasa, and his shorts were so thin Avery could see the veins of his cockshaft through the fabric.
When he finished the first set, Avery nervously said, “So you don’t want to work on your abs?” Truthfully he just wanted to get between Thumper’s legs to hold his feet down, but most men were ab-focused, so Avery thought Thumper might want to work on that.
Thumper shook his head. “I’m too old to worry about that. Ain’t gonna get six-pack abs anyway. So it don’t matter,” he said. “You got a quiet back room or something?”
“Uh… not really. I mean the locker room is pretty quiet-” Avery stopped himself because he realized Thumper wanted a private spot. Thumper licked his lips and Avery’s knees went weak. Avery blushed. “I mean… There’s a sauna. No one’s probably in there this early in the morning. We could lock it-“
“There ya go,” Thumper said. He gestured towards the back of the gym. “Lead the way, man. As you go that way, practice making a face like this.” He demonstrated an open-mouth face, complete with his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek to simulate a cock.
Avery walked into the steamy sauna, glad to see that no one was in there. He quickly locked the door behind Thumper. “This won’t really give us a lot of privacy. The door’s not supposed to be locked, it’s not safe. If someone on staff sees it-“
“Hush up, boi,” Thumper said. He got real close to Avery, so his broad chest touched Avery’s lean torso. The body heat emanating from Thumper wrapped Avery up, and he backed himself up so his shoulders rubbed against the firmness of Thumper’s body.
“Uh-“
“Say yes, sir.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You my trainer, right? You work for me? You call me sir.” Thumper’s voice was a low throaty growl that made Avery’s heart flutter.
“Yes, sir.”
“You wanna jerk me off, boi?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then get on yo’ knees and do it.”
Avery sunk to his knees. A part of him was still worried he’s get in trouble, but not a big part of him. He desperately wanted Thumper’s cock.
He reached up to pull down Thumper’s shorts, which were soaked with sweat and moisture from the humid air here in the sauna. But Thumper swatted his hand away.
“Nah, boi. Use yo’ teeth,” Thumper said. He smiled cruelly down at Avery, who shuddered.
Avery gripped Thumper’s shorts with his teeth and pulled them down. It was difficult to get enough leverage to do so, but when he did, and he saw Thumper’s stiff cock jump out at him, Avery was more aroused than he had ever been.
He swallowed the tip of Thumper’s dick. He tried to jack him off at the same time, since Thumper’s dick was much too big for Avery to deep-throat him, but Thumper again swatted his hand away. The taste was warm and musty, salty from sweat or maybe precum or maybe that was the unadulterated taste of manhood. Thumper guzzled it down.
“No hands, Avery,” Thumper said. That was the first time Thumper had said his name, and the way he muttered it like he had never said the word before made Avery shudder with anticipation. Thumper spat, his saliva landing right on the base of his dick. “You can go deep, right?”
Avery nodded without taking the cock out of his throat. Precum filled his mouth. Thumper groaned and began bucking his hips, pushing his dick gently down Avery’s throat. It wasn’t violent, it was more of a gentle grinding motion, like Thumper was making love to Avery’s throat.
Thumper said softly, “I been locked up a lot. I got experience turning every hole I see into a pussy. That’s what yo’ throat is to me. A pussy. My pussy. Make some noise, boi.”
Avery tried to hum, but that triggered him to gag. He fought against it, but then Thumper gripped his head and pulled him off his cock. Thumper leaned down, his face suddenly angry and accusatory. Gobs of spit connected Avery’s mouth to Thumper’s shaft, which throbbed, dripping precum onto the floor. His dick was veiny and thick, and it jabbed around on Avery’s face.
Though Thumper’s words hung in the air, Avery was more focused on that cock. It was so big, so thick, so warm and pulsating. Avery chased it with his mouth, but Thumper didn’t let him catch up with it. Instead, he smeared his dicktip over Avery’s face.
“I say to make noise, Avery. Make it loud. You fightin’ against yo’self. Huh? Why you bein’ disobedient?”
“I’m uh, sorry,” Avery said, breathless. Then he added, “Sir.”
“Good. You should be sorry,” Thumper said. He pushed his cock back down Avery’s throat. Avery sputtered loudly, spitting up a torrent of spit that ran down Thumper’s shaft. Thumper smiled.
“Good. Good job, Avery,” he said. “You are doing a very good job right now. I’m gonna give you somethin’ nice, somethin’ I’m sure you are gonna like. Whatchoo think? You want that?”
Avery pulled off, tears welling up in his eyes from excitement and lack of oxygen. “What is it?!”
“Nah. You agree first,” Thumper said.
“I agree!” Avery said without a second thought.
Thumper chuckled. He dragged Avery to his feet and told him to bend over. “Grab yo’ ankles.” When Avery didn’t immediately follow orders, Thumper bent him over. Avery’s ass aimed high, and Thumper spread his cheeks.
This was a position that Avery had never used. It was difficult to keep his balance like this, with his ass in the air and his entire body down near the ground. He held tightly onto his ankles as Thumper pushed his dick in to Avery’s ass. Intense pressure erupted, but also pleasure coursed through his veins. Thumper’s cock awakened every one of Avery’s nerves.
“Take it, bitch! Don’t fight me, don’t try and get away, you stay right there and swallow my dick up wit’ yo’ ass, bitch.”
The awkward position somehow made this even more arousing for him. Avery had to continue concentrating on remaining upright, and he probably would have fallen except that Thumper kept a tight grip on his ass and hips, forcing Avery to remain in position. That meant Avery was at his mercy, as Thumper plowed hard at his ass again and again.
Then one of Thumper’s hands crept around to Avery’s crotch. There wasn’t much space there since Avery was doubled over, but Thumper managed to grip his dick anyway.
“Yeah, whiteboi, take it!”
Avery was shocked. Not many men were willing to give a reacharound. As Thumper’s cock pounded in and out of his ass, Avery writhed, struggling to let Thumper stroke his dick while remaining in the position Thumper demanded.
“Grab yo’ ankles!” Thumper barked every time Avery was unable to stop himself from letting go. Avery gulped and followed orders. He kept stumbling, as Thumper relentlessly slammed his dick in and out of Avery’s ass. He kept barking orders too. “Make some more sounds, whiteboi. But don’t quit holdin’ onto yo’ ankles, you just hold on tight and keep them knees where I put ’em.”
He was so intensely aroused that Avery barely noticed his own impending orgasm until it happened. Then his whole body bucked and he let go of his ankles, while cum flew down from his cock, sprinkling over Thumper’s fingers and Avery’s body.
“Oh, you gettin’ outta position, huh?” Thumper said. He grabbed Avery by the hair and lifted his upper body, so Avery’s back pressed against Thumper’s chest and his face was right next to Thumper’s. Thumper licked his cheeks as he rubbed the cum from his fingers onto Avery’s face. Thumper didn’t even seem to mind that Avery’s cum coated his face, and soon both men’s features were covered in a bright sheen of cum. It was more apparent on Thumper’s face because of his dark brown skin.
“Don’t you dare kiss me, boi,” Thumper said. Despite his words, moments after that, he did kiss Avery, right on the lips. His tongue plunged into Avery’s mouth.
Avery was shocked again, but he was also distracted as the slick, slippery muscles of Thumper’s body all tensed. He groaned directly into Avery’s mouth, and Avery felt the sound rumbling through his powerful chest.
Cum sprayed into Avery’s ass, a huge, thick load that spread to every corner of his insides. Avery moaned loudly, dimly aware that he heard someone trying the door and finding it locked. Cum dripped down his thighs.
Avery didn’t know how long that lasted. It felt like it may well have been forever. He grunted as his muscles went limp and Thumper pulled out of his ass. Avery nearly collapsed all the way to the floor.
When he opened his eyes, Avery’s blood ran cold. Standing above him, with his arms across his chest, was Jerry Whittock, the general manager for the Cornerside Gym. He was the only management employee whom Avery had no chance of convincing to look the other way.
“Avery,” Jerry said. “Put your clothes on and meet me in my office.” His eyes flickered to Thumper, who smiled, seemingly oblivious. Fluids coated his entire body, a mixture of sweat and cum and spit and more. He flexed his muscles. Jerry ignored him, turned around and left.
“Hey, sorry, man,” Thumper said.
But Avery just blushed, nodded and walked out. Oh well, he thought, that was totally worth it.
He continued to think it was worth it all day. Jerry was furious, of course. He said Avery was being unsanitary, that it was a bad image for the Cornerside Gym, that women would never want to join if they thought that was the kind of thing they might walk in on. Avery didn’t point out that him and Thumper were in the men’s sauna. No women would be in there anyway.
Regardless, Jerry didn’t do anything. He gave Avery a written warning, which is statistically indistinguishable from doing nothing. He didn’t even send Avery home, because Avery closed this evening and Jerry didn’t want to have to stay late enough to do it himself.
There was no point in being mad at Thumper for getting him in trouble, but Avery was still irked by that. So when Thumper knocked on the Cornerside Gym front door a few minutes after close one night, Avery wasn’t about to let Thumper in now. He shook his head at Thumper through the glass door.
That was when he saw that Thumper wasn’t alone. There was a half-dozen additional black thugs behind him, each looking angry. Thumper himself had a cruel grin and a determined look on his face. Thumper pulled out his phone, and moments later, Avery’s own cell phone rang.
Did I ever give Thumper my phone number? I don’t think so…
He heard catcalls and threats from the other men with Thumper, their voices barely audible through the door but clearly audible through the phone. They were laughing at him through the doorway, calling him a snitch and a “little bitch”. Avery’s heart started pounding as he wondered whether he should call the police.
“Yo,” Thumper said. He sounded confident and stern, but not menacing. “Avery. I know you got in trouble for what happened. So I was gonna make it up to you, man. I was gonna do somethin’ real nice for you.” He paused and held his hand up so his buddies would fall silent. “But instead you had to be a little snitch… Now don’t worry, since it’s yo’ first-time, this is only a warning. We’s gonna come in there, and we gonna ramrod you in every hole you got, homeboy. That’ll be yo’ warning. If it happens again, well… This’ll happen again, but in prison, and for the rest of your life. Now let us in, homeboy.”
His tone made it obvious what was happening. Avery was excited — Thumper had set this up for him to say thanks. Thumper had sensed that Avery wanted nothing more than to be violently penetrated by a bunch of his thuggish friends. Avery’s hostility vanished. Thumper smiled, his cruel visage vanishing; his friends couldn’t see his face, so Thumper crossed his arms over his chest such that his body language was hostile and menacing, but his face said, let us in, we’ll have a good time.
Avery opened the door. He had to suppress a smile, but luckily the other gangbangers were not really paying much attention. It seemed they expected to see a terrified Avery, so that was what they saw. Avery was legitimately afraid, even if he was also excited.
“How we gonna do this, Thumper?”
“Let’s punish that snitch!”
“Alright, homeboys, we gonna destroy this whiteboi,” Thumper said. He placed one hand on Avery’s shoulder, and squeezed supportively. “But we can’t hurt ‘im too bad. No leavin’ marks, homeboys, or he just gonna squeal all over again.”
Thumper led them all into the locker room, and the shower area. Someone turned on the water, so hot steam filled the air. Thumper pushed Avery to stand next to the shower, with his face in the water stream. That made it hard for Avery to hear as the others all took off their clothes.
Avery didn’t need to pretend to be scared. He was terrified, excited, aroused and trembling all at once.
“Wreck that snitch, Thumper!”
Thumper wasted no time in slamming his dick into Avery’s ass. He hooted and pumped his biceps as he did, and he pulled Avery out of the water. Avery gulped and blinked his eyes open, sliding to his knees along with Thumper.
“Make ‘im squirm!”
“Now, we gonna mess you up, boi…” Thumper muttered, spitting directly into Avery’s ear.
The pain in his ass was intense, but Avery could feel pleasure mounting as well. His whole body throbbed in Thumper’s arms. Thumper slammed his dick in hard, ramming it in and out as the hot shower water pooled beneath their bodies.
“Damn, Thumper, you ruinin’ that ass!”
“Alright, let’s have a snitch party,” Thumper said. “Rupert, come here and make ‘im eat yo’ ass.”
Rupert was a tall thug with dreadlocks and a Jamaican accent. He sneered at Avery, whose heart pounded. It looked like Rupert would have beat Avery up if Thumper weren’t here to stop him, and that thought send a thrill up Avery’s spine.
“Eat mi bum, snitch…” Rupert said, his lilting accent echoing in the shower. He turned around and bent over, long dreadlocks dangling over the side of his body. He spread his asscheeks, which were plump and thick even though his body was lean and lanky.
Avery dived in. He didn’t remember to look unwilling, but it seemed no one noticed. They flogged their limp dicks as they watched and hooted out encouragement.
“Ew, he doin’ it! This snitch is nasty as fuck!”
Avery’s tongue lapped at Rupert’s ass, snatching up every drop of sweat he could find. He stimulated Rupert’s prostate, which sent a shiver of desire up Rupert’s spine. Avery could tell that made Rupert hard even if he was facing the wrong way to see it.
Avery was so involved in the rimjob that he barely noticed Thumper guiding his hands up to other men’s cocks. They all had huge cocks, big enough that Avery wondered if Thumper had chosen them based on cock size. Avery stroked someone off with each of his hands as he licked Rupert’s ass.
Then Rupert turned around without warning. He slammed his dick down Avery’s throat, laughing as Avery gagged. He had an incredibly long cock, and it was already dripping precum from the rimjob.
Avery was so focused on slurping off Rupert that he didn’t realize the cock in his right hand was nearing orgasm, not until whoever it was pushed his cock in next to Rupert’s. He felt its heat pulsating against his lips as both shafts mashed up next to each other.
“Shit, you double-teamin’ that snitchin’ bitch!”
Rupert growled and said something Avery didn’t catch, all the men were being so loud right now he could barely make out any words — but he gathered that Rupert didn’t like touching cocks. Nobody seemed to worried about Rupert’s comfort, however, as cum flowed into Avery’s mouth from both dicks, the one he had been jacking off and Rupert at the same time.
They were trying to bukkake him though, so neither sprayed right down his throat. Instead they burst their loads all over Avery’s face.
“Ugh, damn, homeboy, you got yo’ nut on me!”
“Fuckin’ hell, this is sum nasty-ass shit, Thumper, can’t believe you talked me into this.”
Somebody else took Rupert’s place, Tyrell Brickley. Another big black cock invaded his throat, and Avery slathered spit up and down it. By this time Avery had lost count of how many different dicks had blown their wads on his face. They began taking turns on his mouth, jabbing their dicks in just long enough to get hard and make Avery choke a bit, then pulling their cocks out.
None of them seemed to mind that Avery’s face was covered in cum, so they were touching each other’s nuts with their dicks and sometimes even their fingers.
“Makin’ snitch soup on this bitch’s face! Gonna make him slurp that shit up!”
Meanwhile Thumper remained right behind Avery, with his fat cock in Avery’s ass. Thumper was close enough that Avery thought he must have gotten some cum on his face as well, but Thumper either didn’t notice or didn’t mind.
When a thug nutted, nothing changed — the other men kept slapping their dicks over Avery’s face even as their buddy coated their meat with his seed, and then they used their shafts to smear it around on Avery’s lips.
“I bet you wish you ain’t snitch now, huh?”
The taste of cum was intense, and only grew with every passing moment. Avery had never experienced anything so hot, and so delicious. He desperately wanted to lick his face off, but he didn’t. He let them spray and spray until there was no corner of his face that wasn’t covered in hot cum.
Since they didn’t stop smacking Avery’s face with their dicks even after they came, Avery didn’t notice that they were done until he saw that everyone was limp — everyone except Thumper. He was still in Avery’s ass, slowly grinding like he wanted to save himself for the end.
Then he stood up and pulled his dick out. Intense relief flooded Avery, whose ass had grown numb anyway. He could still feel little spermies covering his face and dripping down his body onto the shower floor.
“Make ‘im nasty, Thumper!”
“Ass to mouth! Ass to mouth!”
Thumper smiled cruelly and smacked his dick over Avery’s face. His throbbing hard dick sopped up a mountain of cum, huge gobs of it sticking to his shaft.
“Damn, Thumper, that is some nasty shit!”
Avery opened his mouth even before Thumper was ready. Thumper’s sweaty balls plopped in first, and Avery sucked every drop of fluid from there. Then he kept his mouth open as Thumper aimed his dick right in to Avery’s throat.
He tasted deeply of cum already, since his dick was coated with it. But Thumper ignored that and rammed his dick all the way in. Avery gagged and the other thugs all cheered. They clasped Thumper on his naked back, so close together that Avery could see their floppy cocks brushing up against each other. Either no one noticed or they didn’t care.
Thumper shot his load moments later, grunting and heaving as his wad flowed right down Avery’s throat. He had a huge dick, heavy balls and thick nut, creamy and hot. It tasted sour and sweet and savory all at once, making Avery so aroused he shot his own load into his hands.
Luckily it seemed none of the thugs around him noticed that Avery was jacking himself off — that would surely have tipped them off that he wasn’t the unwilling snitch they all thought he was. He wondered how often they had treated actual snitches like this.
Thumper pulled off. He spat on Avery’s face. “You learn yo’ lesson, snitch?”
“Yes, sir,” Avery said. He didn’t have to force himself to gag when Thumper withdrew his dick, and he gagged again just at the thought of so much cum still clinging to his face.
Thumper reached down and touched Avery’s cheeks. He wiped his hand over Avery’s face, covering his fingers in cum. That much was apparently more than the other thugs expected, because they all clutched each other and hooted like they had never seen something so incredible.
“Damn, Thumper you are one nasty old nigga!”
His hands were callused and firm. Avery licked them clean, and again he didn’t need to force himself to gag. He sucked up every drop off Thumper’s dirty hand, and then when Thumper turned around, Avery kissed his asshole as ordered.
“Give it a nice sloppy kiss, snitch, and then we leave you alone,” Thumper said.
Avery collapsed into a sweaty mess on the floor. He was spent and exhausted. The other men all interpreted it as fear and self-loathing, and they all wagged their dicks in his direction as they put their clothes back on.
“Twenty minutes, bitch,” Thumper said. “You ain’t allowed to clean up for twenty minutes. You sit there with our nasty on yo’ face and think about being a dirty snitch. You can clean yo’self up after twenty minutes.”
They all walked out, leaving Avery there alone to gather his breath. He didn’t know if Thumper had any way of verifying that Avery waited twenty minutes, but he had no intention of disobeying anyway. Avery loved the bukkake all over his face, and he would have stayed there all night if it hadn’t dried and gotten crusty eventually.
Instead Avery waited until the twenty minutes were up, then took a shower. He was surprised to find Thumper waiting for him out in the main room. Thumper grunted.
“You okay?”
Avery nodded. “Thanks, that was-“
“Shut up. I wanted to make sure you was okay,” he said. “I just might have some more homeboys in the future who wanna punish a snitch. You ready to be that snitch?”
“Hell yeah.”
“Good.”
Rob is at it again, this time at the legendary Smashwood Trailer Park for an ultra-raunchy tale of redneck, hick, hobo, thug and hillbilly action! It’s filthy… it’s disgusting… it’s gotta be Smashwood!
Read it soon as an ebook!
Read the whole thing here!
Rob Winthrop strode into Smashwood Trailer Park trying to look confident. This was a rough place, and he wasn’t a tough guy. Rob was wealthy, but he hadn’t let on when setting up today’s event. Hopefully nobody knew he was a billionaire. Everyone in the trailer park stared at him surreptitiously, but no one met his gaze.
Smashwood Trailer Park crawled with men. There were a few women too, but Rob could safely ignore them. They would be irrelevant today. Once things got started, they’d probably find better things to do anyway, Rob assumed. That was how it usually happened. And Smashwood was mainly home to single men, this part of it, anyway — the other side of Smashwood was for women and families.
Here was where the single men lived.
A gravel strewn with glitters of glass ran down the way, with a few dirt offshoots leading to tiny cul-de-sacs. The further from the main gravel road, the more rundown the trailers went, culminating in a suburb of sorts of shacks and shanties and lean-tos and cardboard boxes stacked in little palaces of rain-soaked debris, where muddy, unshaved men with wild eyes lived.
He went to the trailer of Baxter Pence, which was on a dirt road but not at the end of one. His was the last proper trailer on this spoke, as it was followed by a burnt-down husk before the trailers became shacks. He glowered at Rob but he opened the door and let him in. Bax Pence was a grungy hick, ropy-muscled and taut like he was hungry — he always looked hungry — with a heavily tattooed body that was very tan because he worked outside — he held up a stop-sign for a road crew — and rarely put a shirt on. He kept a tight wifebeater with him most of the time so he could put it on if he had to go into a store, but he only did that when he needed to. Around here, most stores didn’t give too much of a crap about the whole no-shirt-no-shoes-no-service thing. Bax was so tan he could pass for black if he wore a doo rag.
“Ah, shit, man… Let’s get this over with,” Bax said. “I got shit to do today.” He didn’t reveal what that “shit” was, but it was pretty obvious to Rob — Bax wanted to smoke meth. Or maybe sell meth, but Rob suspected the only reason he might have sold it was in order to buy it and smoke it for himself as well.
He caressed Bax’s ropy-muscled bicep as Bax cleared away some mud-splattered clothes from a small loveseat. His wiry body plopped down on it, and Rob went right to his chest.
He had an amazing six-pack, though it was obviously not because he was in great shape — it was because he was so skinny, he had that meth-addled physique. He even missed one front tooth, and his other teeth were chipped and yellowed. His body was greasy, unwashed for a long time, reeking of sweat and body hair, even though Bax was not hairy.
Rob pulled Bax’s cock out. He put the tip in his mouth and gurgled merrily on the nasty flavor — it was sour and salty, like unclean meat, like a steak you don’t want to eat. But Rob did want to slurp all that nastiness off. Bax’s muscles rippled beneath Rob’s touch. His tattoos were distorted and distended, like they had been done when he was much bigger than he was now.
A few other guys headed to Bax’s trailer, poking their head in but backing off when they saw Bax’s meth-starved body pounding away. No one wanted to seem too eager, so they didn’t line up, they just pretended there was no particular reason to mill around there, yet they did it anyway. They smoked cigarettes and pretended not to sneak peeks inside.
“Ah, shit, boys, he’s doin’ it!” Bax called out. He had decided there was no point in trying to be surreptitious or discrete about it. It was what it was. They all knew what was going on in here. His lithe body bounced back and forth. He wasn’t sure if he still had a hardon at this point, but his dick was in the freak’s mouth, so he was fulfilling his obligation as he saw it. All Bax cared about was getting enough money to buy his next hit of meth. “He best not stiff us, you won’t stiff us, right?”
“I’ll pay, I’ll pay,” Rob said through his moans.
“Oh yeah, Bax’s doin’ it! Bax’s doin’ it!”
“Shut up, man, don’t be a pansy. You’ll be on top-“
“Aw… fuck, there’s no way I’m doing it. I’m no-” That was the young redneck with the blond shaggy mane that was almost a mullet, Cabel Yoder, who kept blushing and looking away but sticking around with a face like someone had a gun to his head. “Aww, man, shit…” He had a big grin on his face. His pecs rippled beneath his sleeveless shirt every time he laughed.
“You sure?”
“You turnin’ down a nut, dude!?”
“Aww, man…” Cabel was clean-cut for a trailer park, in that he had all his teeth and no track marks. He was from a military and firefighter family, and he had some kinda Army crest tattooed on his back, along with rows of thorny roses. His back was lined with muscles. “Should I do it?” His cheeks burned red. He did like getting blowjobs, and he didn’t mind a blowjob from an ugly woman. This was no different, he thought…
Rob’s eyes were bugging out by the time he started to deep-throat Bax, whose cock got hard in his mouth. It was long but not too thick, making Rob wonder if his cock had gotten skinny when Bax started smoking meth just like the rest of Bax’s body got skinny. It tasted grimy, gritty, slimy with layers of sweat caked on, and Rob slurped all of it off. Before he knew it, that Cabel Yoder’s hardon was in his hand too.
“Aaah…” Bax moaned.
But that wasn’t going to happen. He writhed as his cock throbbed in Rob’s mouth. Bax was glad the meth hadn’t ruined his erections yet.
They were all going to ram Rob, all of the men in this trailer park. They were going to do it dirty, they were going to do it nasty, they were going to do it as one massive, multi-man pile-up, and Rob was going to enjoy every moment of it.
Rob got them to do this by promising two things every slice of trailer trash wanted: money and hot chicks.
Or one hot chick anyway: Jaleena Tight the porn star. She had been looking to do some kind of a redneck gangbang movie — they were hot right now — and she needed the rednecks. Rob, a long-time friend of hers, had agreed to provide them, and he middlemanned in the best way he could think of — only those trailer park trash who were willing to ramrod him now would get to gangbang Jaleena later.
So virtually all of them were going to do it. Most of the trailer park was coming in today, from this side of it at least. A couple of married guys from the other side were probably going to sneak over soon, but presumably without telling the wives. This wasn’t the kind of activity wives needed to know about.
“C’mon in, boys,” Rob called out when he sensed Bax was nearly ready to cum. Bax groaned — he had really wanted this gangbang to be more of a serial thing, not all-at-once. He didn’t need all of these white trash fuckheads cumming in his trailer. But that was already happening, with that Cabel Yoder and his buddy Jacob Billyman jousting in Rob’s open mouth, where Bax was smearing his precum on Rob’s tongue.
Rob reached out and pushed the door open, pulling off Bax’s dick for a few seconds to grab it. He thought Bax must have locked it, that was why no one had come in yet.
But the door popped open easily. That wasn’t why no one had come in.
No one wanted to be the first to start. They milled around and poked their heads in, gasping but trying to seem nonplussed when they saw Rob slathering spit up and down the local methhead’s shaft. It throbbed against his tongue, and Rob stroked it with both hands.
“Ah, shit-“
“Nasty-“
It was Cooter — Jethro Wilde — who came in first. He was older than most of the men in the trailer park, and he didn’t see any reason to dilly-dally. That was for young pups. He wasn’t going to be self-conscious, and he’d rather go now than wait for the nasty stranger to be all cum-coated and nasty.
“This the sissy who wanna get gangbanged?” Cooter said with a sneer. He licked his lips.
“Uh-huh, hang on, I’m gonna cum in a sec-“
“Nah,” Cooter said. He had a big hairy barrel chest, with curls of salt and pepper hair extended around the fabric of his sleeveless shirt. He was here laying asphalt this summer, and he had a burly body that was streaked with sweat and a few clumps of gray in his chest hair. There was even some cement that had gotten fixed to his broad shoulders. His sun-wizened face crackled with the layer of fine cement dust that clung to his skin and which flaked off when he moved. His callused fingers gripping Rob’s face to hold it in place.
Cooter dropped his jeans and slapped his dick on Rob’s face. Rob sucked on it too, leaving Bax’s precum-coated shaft to focus on Cooter, who had a nice thick dick, a big ugly knobbly prick that tasted like the sweat that made his chest hair cling to his body.
It was sour and salty and it got hard right away — Cooter didn’t drink or smoke meth, so he got hard easily. Bax was embarrassed by that, in his mind, it was very obvious that Cooter got hard more quickly than Bax did, and everyone who had even slightly glanced in the trailer must have noticed. He didn’t realize that no one was paying that much attention to him.
So he overcompensated by pushing Cooter aside. He meant to push on his thighs — because Cooter stood by the couch Bax still sat on — but he ended up touching his ass. “Get off, man, wait your turn-“
“I’m tryin’-a get off, and don’t touch my ass.”
“No, I mean, lay off him until I’m done, I ain’t cum yet-“
“You don’t know how this works, boy! Ain’t no ‘layin’-off’ until you done, that is the exact opposite of how this works,” Cooter said with a laugh. “Come on in, boys, the water’s just fine! He sucks a treat!” Cooter whooped. A few guys poked their heads in more openly, but no one actually came on in as Cooter had demanded. It was cramped in there, for one thing, and it was impossible to get in without touching Cooter’s hairy body and ass or the masturbating duo of Yoder and Jacob.
“Can you boys double-team my mouth?” Rob asked. He took both dicks in hand, pushed them onto his tongue and suckled moistly, letting Bax’s precum run down Cooter’s shaft. Rob loved mixing fluids from multiple alphas, and the part he liked best was that they acted like it was a betrayal. They both twitched and sneered their faces at each other, as they dicks smashed knobs together in Rob’s mouth.
“Hell yeah-“
“Oh… yeah…”
Actually neither of them were especially keen on jousting. But no one wanted to be the only one to back out either.
“Only pussies get scared of jousting,” Cooter said, eyeing Bax and rather hoping he would complain — Cooter was older and tougher (he thought) than most of the guys here, so he really wanted to demonstrate that today. “You ever done that before, Bax?”
Bax scoffed as though the answer should have been obvious. “Of course, man,” he lied. He gasped then as a pearly drop of precum slipped out of Cooter’s dick and onto his cock. Ah, shit, there’s another man’s cum on me, shit, shit, shit, they gonna think I can’t defend myself…
He was so entranced by that anxiety that he didn’t quite know what to make of the orgasm that hit him hard. His eyes opened wide. His dick was rubbing against Cooter’s older, thicker shaft as he gasped and writhed, pleasure rocketing up his spine. That pleasure came more from the friction of rubbing against Cooter’s shaft than from Rob’s mouth. Bax nervously bit his lip, subduing a howl as his ropy-muscled body twisted on the couch.
Cum sprayed down Rob’s throat, and he guzzled every salty, creamy drop. Another man had come into the trailer now, a scuzzy older man, not quite as old as Cooter, but with a more weathered face and a beard like a hobo. He was in there just in time to see Bax cum and watch all that semen run down Cooter’s shaft.
Cooter came too, soon after that, while the young men Yoder and Jacob needed only a few seconds on Rob’s mouth to add their loads to the mess clinging to Rob’s face. They were glad to get out of there early, before things got too gross.
Despite the sheen of white goob on Rob’s face, that out-of-town stranger with the wild beard came in next. The hobo-beard man— who wasn’t quite homeless — he told everyone he met he was “no homeless bastard” — ignored the stink of jizz in the room and didn’t even seem ot notice Cooter’s jizz spurting onto his leg as he came in. Cooter’s orgasm was loud and animated, sweaty, like a hyperactive coyote.
That bearded near-hobo didn’t realize that no one had rammed Rob in the ass yet (today). He was oblivious enough to not really notice or care that Rob was still sucking the cum off Cooter’s cock and that his ass wasn’t even bare yet.
“Lemme in that ass, bitch…” hissed the near-hobo who didn’t know anybody else here. His name was Ramblin’ Joe — t’was what the whole world always done did call him — and he knew damn well how to ram a goledarned sissy. They want it hot and hard and relentless. He had a jutting square jaw, a crooked nose and two cauliflowery ears, looking like a prize fighter despite his small size.
It was kind of nice, he thought, ripping Rob’s pants down and lifting him up, no need to be nice or gentle, all you had to do was ram. He aimed Rob’s face towards the door to the trailer, dragging him to the floor and jamming his dick in that tight ass even before it was fully hard. It went right on, sending a wave of pleasure up Rob’s spine.
It had been a long time since he had done wreck a booty, so that near-hobo, Ramblin’ Joe, whom no one knew was hard at just the thought of it. He was glad to see the other guys were cleaning up after themselves, since Rob’s ass wasn’t covered in cum already — not that that would have slowed him down.
The near-hobo gripped Rob tight, feeding his dick in, letting out a grunt when he was finally hard. Rob felt a tight pressure and a pinch. He reached behind himself to guide the near-hobo’s dick in, but the layers of dirty pants and overshirts were in the way — he had only lowered his pants, not actually taken them off or even all the way down.
But it seemed he didn’t need to do much anyway. Rob was on the floor and the near-hobo pounded away at his ass, hard and relentless. Rob reached for the cocks in front of him — he was angled towards the trailer door, where two guys stood there with their dicks out — Buck Sampson and Cody Lankford. Laughing with each other and ignoring Rob they took turns slapping Rob’s face with their cocks, letting him lick both shafts, though they hadn’t gotten hard yet.
“Ah, this sissy is naa-aasty!” Cody peered like an explorer at the sissy’s face, but he didn’t touch it. He watched with wide eyes as Ramblin’ Joe’s balls went thwack-thwack on the sissy’s chin, and Cody giggled like a girl when a drop of spit his cheek. He backed off. He was little, just a spit over five feet tall, powerfully built for his size but still scrawny, with a raggedy shock of mud-blond hair. He was bright-eyed, green as jade, with light skin and a youthful face, looking younger than his big-ass buddy Buck, though they were the same age.
“They’s all like that, man, I swear, they’s all into that kinky shit…” Buck Sampson shook his head. His mighty thirteen inch cock flip-flopped between his callused mitts. He was a roughneck like some of the others, home from the oil rig to spend his money on his woman, which in fact was where she was today, shopping like a mother hen, leaving him free to wreck this sissy in whichever hole was free when Buck got into the trailer. Buck was damn near seven foot tall, built like a stevedore, which was not a word with which Buck ever done made acquaintance with, and he had a deep huffy-puffy voice. “He prolly narsty, Cody…”
“Lemme in that bitch’s mouth, I’m gonna get a little neck, shite…”
Finally someone else was ready to get in his throat. Rob didn’t even look up in time to see his face — it was a biker who went by Greaser — so he could do little more than open wide and let his mouth fill. He had a little rattail of hair, skinny as a sumbitch, walking leaning back a little all the time, ready whenever the moment struck him with a comb and some grease to slick back his hair. That was how he got the name. He had a fat dick, which joined Buck’s and Cody’s and whoever else’s that Rob jerked off in turn.
As he swallowed Greaser’s erect cock, Rob tried to get up on all fours, but the near-hobo behind him was shooting his nut up Rob’s guts, so when Rob moved, he smacked him. “Stay still, bitch, lemme in there-“
“Yo, dawgie, lemme in there too,” said some black guy, a big shaved-head man with big ditch-digger’s arms. He pushed past the others, his erect cock rubbing against their asscheeks and thighs — which he did deliberately so everyone would see how big his cock was — as he pushed into the trailer. He grimaced a little at the sight of that cum-filled hole, but he didn’t wait. It wasn’t gangsta to wait to your turn.
The black guy — Deff Jasper — loved to gangbang sluts. He and his niggas Tyrell, Killer and all them, Slim Jay, Thumper, they all got a bitch to give up her booty and all on at lesat a monthly basis. Deff be gangbanging.
But Done never ramrodded a man like this. Thumper spent thirty-four years in prison, so you know he done wreck a honky booty now and then. Slim Jay was a straight up pimp, off the clock right now though, cuz there ain’t no point in bringing hos to Smashwood Trailer Park, cuz don’t nobody got money there. He do come by to stick it in a cummy asshole. Slim Jay always say a nigga has gotta stick his dick in something nasty now and then. That’s what means it to keep it real. Slim Jay ain’t wear his pimping suit today though. He got standards. Tyrell Brickley did likewise dress down, cuz he was a clean-cut kinda nigga with the ugly dick like a caveman. He got his meat in there using all them other niggas’s nuts as lube, and Tyrell busted a nut quick cuz a nigga like him got shit to do.
Oodles of cum gushed down Rob’s thighs, and his asshole gurgled up the cumwad still in there. Deff wondered how many men had already gotten in there as he plowed in, grimacing at the feel of cum spilling out and around him. That was Tyrell’s and Slim Jay’s and all them.
It spilled over his dark skin and into his pubic hair, making a big frothy mess. “Woo-hoo, shit yeah! Sloppy seconds, baby!” His eyes opened wide when his entire cock slipped into Rob’s ass without a moment’s hesitation — no girl had ever done that. His whole ten-inch shaft got sucked right in. He wondered if Rob was that slutty or if it was just part of sloppy seconds, if cum was really just a great lubricant.
The smell of cum grew overpowering in the trailer. Deff both laughed and wrinkled his nose. It ain’t never smell this bad when he gangbanged a female. But this white-ass punk smelled like a hundred hobos’s cumloads, and there might well have be that many on his face as far as Deff knew.
“Damn, boy, take that shit!” Deff smacked Rob’s ass and then instantly regretted it because he felt someone else’s cum on his fingers. It was hot and goopy, and it made his stomach churn.
There were more men in the trailer now, and someone’s erect cock rubbed against Deff’s ass. He tried to blow it off. It wasn’t a big deal — he had done the same thing, after all, just a few minutes ago. It was attention-grabbing though, the feel of another man’s cock right next to his asshole. What if someone attempted at him? Deff would have to throw down.
His anxiety didn’t stop him from filling Rob’s ass with creamy seed. He hooted and hit Rob in the side, just hard enough to make him squirm and clench around Deff’s cock. Deff sighed and pulled out.
“Make it leak out, bitch, I wanna see it gape and get frothy, shit!” Deff wanted to watch his cum spill out of Rob’s asshole, but before he could, another trailer trash — Ransom Wargrave — was already flopping his dick over Rob’s ass.
Wargrave was hard and ready to go. This was gonna be humiliating and disgusting but worth it if he got to fuck Jaleena Busty. Just picturing her and her enormous tits was enough to make Wargrave horny. He loved porn.
He was in his late twenties, wearing a football jersey because he had been a star player in high school, and he hadn’t yet grokked that he looked like a loser still wearing it all the time. He was skinny for a football player, like he was stuck in the thirties before they learned about protein powder and creatine. Wargrave slid his dick into Rob’s ass, surprised at how easy it was — he thought he’d have trouble staying hard with so many dicks everywhere (he’d accidentally touched ten or eleven on his way in here).
Cum poured out and added to the puddle on the trailer floor. Wargrave was ginger at first when he saw that, but somehow the disgust only made his erection throb harder, and he slammed his dick in. He chuckled at the sight of droplets of cum spraying out and around.
Rob focused on slurping on Wargrave’s dick. That was his usual plan in these sorts of gangbangs. He just wanted to get as much dick as he could, but his mouth was the part that needed the most active attention. The trailer trash could just keep plowing his ass, he needed only to let them go to town on him.
But servicing cock actually required his attention, at least the way he usually did it. The more this whole experience continued, however, the more Rob could just lay there — on his back eventually because that was easier — while he was plowed into on both his ass and his mouth. He got them all: muscular studs like Julian Bondarinko and his buddies Hyler and Specs, black guys — like this local musclebound rapper Killer and his multiracial posse Lamar, Mikey, Mane, Hansen and J-Moc — this tubby fatso named Piggie whose belly stank like cheap cheese, a stringy-haired beggar named Tommy Weathers, a trucker named Manky who was just passing through, crackheads with names like Belmont and Spider and Nugget, all of them came to make Rob as nasty as could be. As predicted, at least one married man from the other side of the park, Jerry Maple, did come over and get a nut off real quick, before his wife noticed he was gone.
“Gonna make ya dirty-“
“Ah, boys, that is some nasty shit, lookit his ass, it’s all… gross…”
He lay on his back with his head dangling over the edge of the top-step leading out of the trailer. That angle made it easier for scumbag after scumbag to throat him down, until his mouth was coated with gobs of precum, semen and puddles of his own spit.
His throat was sore, but this was the part that Rob loved most. He could keep his mouth open as though his jaw was slack, and they just kept plowing in. Every time one person finished spewing jizz down his gullet, another one took his place. Once he got into the swing of things, Rob could — and gladly would — deepthroat any cock, no matter how big. In fact a couple of them had noticeably tiny dicks, like that Mikey Thimble, but even that contributed to the nasty mess all over Rob’s face, and he appreciated the lack of self-consciousness these men had about that.
How many loads was this? Rob had lost count. He was pretty sure he had at least thirty on his face now. He tasted cum everywhere. He couldn’t even tell which loads were on his face and which had been shot right down his throat.
“Make him cummy! Make him cummy!”
“His face is so nasty, got like a million babies on his face-“
“Ew, don’t say it like that, man-“
“It’s more than a million anyway. That is so gross. It looks like snot and shit!”
The last guy on his face was a young man who had very nearly refused to participate in this. He was Chris Hazel, and he was only nineteen, barely out of high school. He didn’t want to do anything gross, so he had opted out. He didn’t want to gangbang a female porn star either. He had cute-boy dimples but white-trash hair, and his furry chest was meaty and well-fed like he didn’t come from here. He did come from Smashwood, he just looked well-fed for a trailer park.
But when the others started teasing him about it, asking if he was unable to get hard, he felt compelled to do it. He stuck his hard dick in Rob’s mouth and closed his eyes, trying not to feel the clumps of cum that stuck to his thighs and his pubic hair.
Rob’s face had been virtually bukkaked — most of the men had shot in his throat, so it wasn’t real bukkake, it was more spit and precum and spat-up cum — and Chris was shocked to feel that sticky seed all over his balls and his shaft.
The guys in Rob’s ass were the raunchier ones — it took a special kind of guy to gangbang a male stranger. It was the ragged, long-haired Logan Barnaby who was last to go in there.
“‘Course Logan’s doin’ it…”
“He’ll stick it in anything!”
He had climbed in the window to get in that ass. Logan would gladly fuck any woman in the ass — he was known for that in the park, he had no shame about plowing morbidly obese women, elderly women, toothless drug whores, any woman who would willingly give up the ass, he fucked them.
He done stuck more than a few men in the ass too, but he was at least discrete about that. Usually. He was in a hard rock band, and he had a hard-living kind of face, he looked like the kind of man who lived in his car, which he in fact did — it was parked at the end of a dirt road at the far end of Smashwood. His work-hard jowls and broad shoulders were sore, his hairy greasy and unkempt, his cock uncut and fat as the beer bottles he was constantly drinking from.
Going last was not bad at all, he thought. It was like swimming in spooge. He wasn’t even sure he could feel the walls of Rob’s guts. It was all cum, like dipping his dick in a sauce made of raunch. His long stringy hair rocked back and forth and covered his face as he watched that young pup Chris spray one last load all over Rob’s face.
“Ah, damn, bitch…” he said with a sigh as his own orgasm rocked his body. It was intense, prideful — he felt like he had conquered a weaker man.
He added his own cum to the soupy mess that was Rob’s ass. Rob was still on his back, legs in the air, so as he finally experienced the last throes of his potent prostate orgasm, Rob’s toes gripped Logan’s hairy shoulder-muscles.
Logan didn’t mind. He stayed right there, dipping his dick in that cummy soup as it limpened in Rob’s ass. He cocked his head to the side, marveling at the intense pleasure his cock could bring someone like Rob. Rob squirmed and squealed, making the jizz that coated his face and body stream down onto the floor of Bax’s trailer.
“Well, fuck, bitch, you are nasty!” Logan said, in a tone that suggested he did not see that as an insult.
“I know,” Rob said, giggling. “But thanks for pointing it out.” He sighed and began licking up all the cum he could get to from his face, chest and ass. It tasted like spit and armpit sweat and other flavors he couldn’t quite identify. He was so focused on that he ignored the men laughing at him — and at Bax, whose trailer was positively soaked in cum.
“Ah… it’s nasty in here,” Bax said. He hadn’t predicted this would all happen in his trailer. He had put a sheet down on the couch, but of course, that hadn’t been enough. He’d assumed the action would move out into the trailer park proper.
“Yeah, it’s pretty nasty,” Rob said, rubbing his sore ass. He giggled and blushed. “Just the way I like it.” He put his clothes back out, and groped all the men he could reach as he headed for the trailer park’s entrance. “I’ll send Jaleena over tomorrow. I’ll be your fluffer too.”
Once they were away from Bax’s trailer, most of them got excited about tomorrow’s gangbang, and they began to brag about who would fuck her best, first and in the most interesting ways. Rob couldn’t wait for that too. He knew he wouldn’t get as much cum tomorrow, but it would be fun in its own way.
Plus he already had a lead on a construction crew who was willing to cornhole the everlasting fuck out of him next week.
Avery is at it again, and this time he has his eyes set on a jive-talking black man from the ‘hood who would rather bang a ho… But when Avery dangles a couple dollars in front of his face, Wink is ready to give him a swing on that alpha male meat!
Read the whole thing here!
“There you is, Wink, I see you comin’ my way! Why dontcha break me off a piece of that sugar?”
That was it, that was him.
Avery stepped out from behind the dumpster and stopped in front of Wink. He was a tall black man, muscular but not large, firm and tight-bodied beneath an ill-fitting suit. It wasn’t colorful enough or nice enough to be a pimp suit — it was faded and frayed, loose threads and old stains abounding. A few holes had been darned inexpertly.
Andre “Wink” Winkle came down here to Canal Street, behind Brentwood Projects, every weekend. He always paid for a blowjob from one of the hookers. He always asked for anal, but he never had the money for it. He begged them to let him in the back-door for free, even promising that he’d lick their pussy when he was done.
Avery thought Wink was willing to try a different route to that backdoor.
“I’m comin’ fo’ you, girl!” Wink said to the prostitutes. He walked slowly, with a barely perceptible limp.
“Hey,” Avery said. He startled Wink, who glared at him. “You wanna make some money? I’ll pay you a hundred bucks to do to me whatever you were gonna do to her. You can ram me six ways to Sunday.”
Wink had been bopping his head to an unheard beat as he came down the alley. He kept bouncing on his feet, even as his eyes bugged out. Then finally he stopped and chuckled.
“Yo,” he said, hsi voice flat and simple. “What?”
Avery repeated himself. He blushed. This was always the awkward part, and he was suddenly a lot less confident that Wink would say yes. “I’ll give you a hundred dollars. All you gotta do is ram me.”
“Yo, I, uh, I don’t mess ‘round on the downlow, sho’ don’t, sho’ don’t.”
“This wouldn’t be on the downlow, this would be here in public.”
“That ain’t a sellin’ point, man,” he said with a snarl. He pushed Avery out of the way. “Go’n, boi, get outta here b’fore I swipe yo’ head off. I ain’t no boytoy, no way, no way.” He had barely even stopped walking for a moment before continuing on, doing his little rap to that same beat he had been tapping as he came in. He shook his head and headed towards the girls.
“C’mon, baby, you look tasty tonight! You wear that suit like a stud!”
“You get all dressed up like that for me, sweetie? Ain’t you the handsomest?!”
Avery was disappointed. He was usually a good read on men. Wink had seemed like he’d do it for some money, but the way he phrased that and the way he moved on right away made it seem like he would not do it for any amount of money.
“Yo, sweetheart, you lookin’ fine in that dress. Whatcha think ‘bout-” Wink stopped talking and turned around. He jogged back to Avery and smiled, showing off deep dimples. “Yo, I forgot, I do it. Two hundred and some pee.” Then, he gasped, “I mean, in a cup, man. Pee in a cup. Not, you know… Pee in a cup. I need it tomorruh for a pee test. Need it bad, fo’ real, this nigga need it bad.”
Avery was taken aback. “Oh. You forgot? You forgot you do swing downlow?”
“I just… I ‘membered this little chore I got, yo, it’s real impo’tant and it ain’t not a bit of yo’ business ‘t all,” he said. He snorted. “But yeah, I gots a plan fo’ that money, hell yeah, hell yeah. And that’ll be the first time I evuh got clean pee for my PO.” He peered at Avery. “You smoke weed?” He screwed up his eyebrows,
“No. Well, yes, but I haven’t smoked in months,” Avery said.
He nodded. “Okay, good.” He produced a specimen cup — an actual one, from a lab — and handed it over.
Avery went behind the dumpster to pee. “You carry this around with you?”
“I was goin’ somewhere wit’ it, yo,” he said with a snooty snarl. He came up behind Avery by the dumpster. He swiped the cup from him as soon as Avery had replaced the lid. He didn’t seem to care that a few drops of pee got on the sleeve of his ratty old suit. “Get on yo’ knees. You ain’t a girl, so don’t even think I’mma seduce you or call you ‘sweetheart’ or kiss you. I don’t nevuh did stick no male man, no way. Nope, nope.”
“No problem,” Avery said as he dropped to his knees.
The nearby hos could still be heard. “Where’d Wink go? He was just here.”
“I saw him.”
Wink chuckled dryly. He had a nice, raspy throat that made Avery hard. Avery undid the fly of his nattered suitpants. He pulled out a juicy, fat cock. Since Wink was lean-limbed and not especially large, his cock looked even bigger, extending almost all the way to his knees and as plump in diameter as his forearm.
“Just put the tip in yo’ mouth, boy,” Wink said. Then he clucked his tongue against his teeth. “Yo, I don’t like sayin’ that. I’mma call you girl. Okay, girl? Huh? Huh?”
“Uh-huh,” Avery spoke around the cock throbbing in his throat. It was limp still, but it was gathering steam. He could feel it twitching and twinkling as Wink got used to the situation.
“Alright, yo, girl, alright, put the tip in yo’ mouth.” He paused and pulled out a cigarette. He patted his pants pockets. “Damn, girl, you got a lighter?”
Avery shook his head. He put the tip of Wink’s dick in his mouth and suckled loudly, moistly. He got a taste of clean cock — it was clear Wink had showered right beforehand. He must have wanted to be at his cleanest for the prostitute he planned on hiring.
Wink snorted. A trashy-looking white redneck walked past the dumpster, heading towards the girls. He didn’t notice Wink throating Avery down in the shadows. “Yo, hey, man,” Wink called out to him. “You got a light, man?”
The redneck nodded. He fished a lighter out and gave it to Wink, who lit his cigarette and took a deep drag. The redneck realized then that Wink was getting dome from a man, and he backed away. “Uh, keep the lighter,” he said. He turned around and darted towards the prostitutes.
Wink cackled. “Whiteboys don’t know nothin’ ‘bout this kinda shit. They squeamish as all hell, yo.” He took another drag. “Free lighter, alright, alright, alright.” He sighed. “Now get yo’ tongue out a bit, girl. Move it around some.”
Avery did what he said. He kept sucking on the tip and licking the shaft at the same time, his tongue flickering out to tease every inch of his manhood. Wink leaned against the brick wall facing the dumpster. He closed his eyes and groaned.
“Yo, lick right here, baby,” he said. He pointed to a spot, and when Avery licked that enthusiastically, Wink groaned again. He smiled. “Yeah, you pretty good. I’m gonna keep tellin’ you how to do it, girl. Hope that’s okay. I’m sure you got ‘xperience, but I like it done in just the right way. Lick here now, girl, get that tongue out… Yeah… Yeah…” He spoke in a low, slow-melting voice.
“Hmmm, c’m’ere big boy…!”
“Want a date, sugah?”
“Is that you, Wink? I see you there. Whatchoo doin’ behind the dumpsters? Ain’t you gonna come see me?”
Wink laughed and covered his face. He poked his head out from behind the dumpster. “Hey, sweetheart! I might take a break this week.” He snorted and smiled. “Wait! Nah! You come on ovuh here, Bethlyn! I got somethin’ for yo’! It’s gonna be real special!” His voice was smooth and kind, but then he glared down at Avery and spoke more brusquely. “Alright, you can deep-throat me now, girl.”
Avery was excited to show his capabilities. He slammed his face all the way down on Wink’s dick, until his nose mashed into the fabric of his slacks. His wiry pubic hair scratched at Avery’s lips, and his balls swayed against his chin.
“Okay, nice, alright then, alright, alright,” Wink said, bristling, shifting his weight between his feet like he hadn’t expected Avery’s mouth to feel so good. He smiled as Bethlyn approached. She was a big black girl with a wide ass. She wore a bright green dress that showed off her assets. She smiled at Wink, then frowned when she saw that his dick was in a man’s mouth.
“Hello,” she said. She glared at Avery and barked out, “What’s this? You stealin’ my customers? My daddy Slim Jay ain’t gonna be happy ‘bout that.”
Avery grinned, but he didn’t pull off Wink’s cock, which throbbed in his throat. Wink gasped like he was shocked that Avery could deepthroat him all the way to the root.
“Don’t be salty, baby,” Wink said. He leaned over and kissed Bethlyn on the cheek. “He payin’ me, I’m just savin’ some money. You still my one and only. Maybe I can pay you fo’ some anal action next week, you know.”
“Uh-huh.” She put her hands on her hips. “You leavin’ me high and dry.”
“I don’t want you dry, no way, no way. Lemme give you ten,” he said. He pulled out a ten dollar bill. “I finger yo’ real good, baby, baby doll.” He smiled and held up two fingers like he was negotiating. “I put two fingers in yo’ pussy and one in the ass. You like that? Huh? Or you want two in the ass and one in yo’ pussy?”
She took the ten dollar bill. She frowned down at Avery. “You best hurry up, man. If my daddy come by and you still here, he gonna kick at least three asses. Ten dollahs ain’t enough to make him happy.”
Wink kissed her on the lips. His tongue plunged into her mouth. His head was turned to the side to reach her face, while his crotch pushed forward to give Avery perfect access to his cock.
As always, when Avery got into the swing of his latest piece of street trade, he felt a real sense of intimacy with his man. He always thought the best way to get to know a man was to get him off. All of his inner feelings and dreams were palpable when you had him at his most vulnerable, allowing a man to swing on his meat.
And Andre Wink was no exception. Avery swallowed his cock to the root as Wink kissed the prostitute and fingered her pussy and ass. She submited boredly, but Wink acted like she was just as passionate as he was.
Wink wore this suit to impress her. Avery had been going back and forth whether he wore it for her or because he just thought he looked good or maybe he was going to go club-hopping later, maybe he just wanted to get his rocks off before hitting on pretty girls so he wouldn’t be too horny. Or maybe he just always wore a suit, or he was hoping to become a pimp one day. There were a million reasons he might be wearing the cheap, ill-fitting burgundy suit.
But the more he swallowed, the more Avery knew the answer — Wink wanted to look his best for Bethlyn, or whichever prostitute looked prettiest to him when he got here. He felt like a trashy loser when he dressed in his ordinary t-shirt and jeans to get a blowjob from a whore, so he wore his only suit instead. He talked like he was seducing her, like she was his girlfriend, like he really loved her, because he wished he was the kind of man who felt that way about a girl.
Now that Wink was knuckle-deep in the plump prostitute, his dick throbbed and jerked around within Avery’s throat. It spewed precum in copious quantities. Avery sucked down every drop.
“I love you, baby, I love you so much, yo, yo,” Wink murmured to her. He tried to drag Avery’s head off his cock, but Avery resisted. Wink grunted. “Am I the only nigga you want?”
“Baby, you really are,” she said with a canned moan. She kissed him back on the neck.
He chuckled. “Damn, I like this. Only cost me ten bucks, and I’s gettin’ paid by the sissy. I’s makin’ a profit tonight, damn-howdy!”
The prostitute took a step back. She shook her head. “Nah. My daddy gonna be very mad ‘bout that, Wink.”
“What?” He had a big smile on his face like a mischievous little boy who had just gotten in trouble.
“Only his girls is allowed to work this alley,” she said. “He go’n cut you. Or just demand all the money the sissy is paying you. Or both.”
Wink chuckled. “Baby, don’t tell him, okay? You still gettin’ paid-“
“He’s my daddy, I gotta tell him! He get salty if I don’t.”
“If you don’t tell him, he won’t know nothin’, baby, baby,” Wink said. He slipped a second finger into her pussy and groaned. She kissed him on the neck. Wink groaned. “Tell him the sissy ain’t pay. Tell him I let him jerk me off as a freebie.”
“He won’t like that much either, nigga,” she said.
Wink sighed. “Then tell him to fuck off, I don’t care. Quit talkin’ ‘bout yo’ pimp.” He looked down at Avery, whose head bobbed up and down on his dick. “You can stop, whiteboy. I got a female now.”
Bethlyn started rubbing his chest through his shirt and talking about how much she wanted a taste of his cock. Wink just smiled and fingered her pussy. He brought his fingers up to his nose to sniff them. Precum flowed into Avery’s mouth now, as Wink’s cock hit the back of his throat again and again. Avery’s nose was buried in Wink’s pubic hair and the burgundy fabric of his suit. Wink kept half-heartedly trying to get Avery to stop — Wink had cash now, so he could buy whatever he wanted from Bethlyn. Avery wasn’t about to stop until he got his money’s worth.
“Suck on ‘em, baby, lemme see it,” Wink said. He tried to put his fingers in her mouth, but she kept her lips closed.
“Another ten bucks, sweetheart,” she said softly.
“You charge money to suck on my finger? It just got yo’ pussyjuice on it, baby? I love you-” His dick throbbed in Avery’s mouth.
“I love you too, Wink, but I gotta pay my daddy,” she said. “Ten bucks, and I’ll suck on any finger you put in front of my mouth.”
He chuckled and handed over another ten dollar bill. He shook his head and bit his lip. He put his fingers back in her pussy, then removed his other finger, the one that had been in her ass.
“Hmm,” she moaned like she had been waiting for that. She swallowed his callused finger, making him shudder and lean back again.
Avery stopped throating his cock. Wink watched his finger slide in and out of her mouth like he was hypnotized, like he hadn’t even noticed Avery wasn’t on his cock anymore. Though nobody touched it, Wink’s dick still throbbed and dripped on the grimy ground. Avery pulled his pants down and bared his ass.
Without a word from Wink, Avery backed up. He squeezed Wink’s cock into his asshole. Wink just kept sticking his fingers in the prostitute’s holes; he switched his fingers around like it was a game, smilingly sickly as she sucked her pussy and ass juices off his finger.
Finally he looked down to see his cock slide into Avery’s ass. He wrinkled his nose a bit, then went back to kissing the prostitute. His whole body trembled beneath the suit.
“Yo, baby, I love ass,” he said. “Love it!” He said it to her even though the only person whose ass he was in was Avery. His hands roamed over her tits and tweaked her nipples through her green dress. “Can I suck on yo’ titties, baby, baby doll? I love you so much. I’mma be wit’ you forevuh.”
“Uh-huh,” she crooned. “Twenty bucks.”
“Twenty bucks to suck on yo’ titties?!”
She smiled. “If you gimme another twenty bucks, I’ll have made fifty bucks off yo’. That’s enough I can give my daddy, he ain’t gotta be mad,” she said.
“Alrighty, then, alrighty, but only cuz I love yo’ and I don’t want him beatin’ on you, baby. That ain’t a good value, twenty bucks fo’ some titties, nah,” he said with a laugh. But he paid the twenty dollars anyway, and he dove for her chest. He lowered her dress to bare the tits and began licking. He groaned. His cock spasmed in Avery’s ass.
Avery savored the exquisite feeling of Wink’s meat throbbing inside him. He moaned. He had to grip the side of the dumpster for support. It took all of his coordination to keep moving his ass back and forth on Wink’s cock, because Wink didn’t move his hips at all. Avery was responsible for the entirety of the action. Wink ignored Avery, kissing and pawing over the prostitute instead.
Wink had never told anyone, but Avery was not the first man he stuck up behind. When Wink was in prison for two years, he had a thin, delicate man as a cellmate. Initially, Wink had beaten him up and taken his fruit cup in the mess hall. He arrived at prison wanting to show off and make a name for himself, and he was glad to have a small, weak cellmate he could pound on.
But over the next nineteen months, Wink went him hating his weakling cellmate to feeling sorry for him to being grateful for his attention to enjoying his presence to even giving an enthusiastic reacharound after a few gulps of toilet wine (when there was a sheet up over the cell bars so no one knew Wink had touched another man’s cock). When Wink was released, he had sworn to himself he was going to make changes in his life, and one of those changes was that he was going to keep visiting his former cellmate. He liked to feel wanted. He had sworn on his good name that he’d keep coming back.
But once he was free, and he saw girls all over the place, and he got some good-natured ribbing about what he might have done with other males in prison, Wink wasn’t comfortable with it. In his cell, he could put up a sheet for privacy. If he went to prison as a visitor, he couldn’t hide anything.
So in the end, he had never once visited the man he spent all those passionate nights with. He regretted it often, but Wink never looked him up again. He counted down the days to the man’s scheduled release date, and then he counted up the days since he had been released.
When he rammed Avery there in the alley, that was what he thought about, even as he fingered Bethlyn. He kissed her while imagining he was kissing a man who didn’t need to be paid to care for him.
“Kiss me, baby,” he moaned. He grabbed her body and held her close. He kissed her tight on the lips, his tongue exploring her mouth. He was short and she was taller than him, but she was much thicker, so he looked even smaller in comparison, like she could have swallowed him up whole if she wanted.
His cock spasmed as he groaned into her mouth. His muscles tensed beneath the suit, which was now plastered to his chest with sweat. His balls drew up in his sac, and for the first time since this had begun, he gripped Avery’s bare asscheeks. He loudly orgasmed, gasping and heaving in the shadowy alley.
Wink held Avery in place and swayed his hips from side to side, humping every inch of his insides. Cum sprayed over his prostate, triggering Avery’s own orgasm at last. He sprayed his wad onto the garbagey alley ground, while Wink’s load coated his body.
Wink kept on ramming, sucking on the prostitute’s tongue and tweaking her nipples with both hands. His cock rammed in and out of Avery’s cum-dripping ass. The more he rammed, the more of a mess he made — Wink had developed this game with his cellmate, making his load frothy, spilling out, bubbling forth in a big drippy wad that made him gag and laugh.
“Damn, boy, you take it — I mean, damn, girl, you got real nasty there, that was nice,” Wink said. He whistled. He pointed to the messy ass. “You see that, Bethlyn? Lookit that. That is some nasty anal. That is right. That’s how you do it That’s how you do it!.”
“I do that, sugah,” Bethlyn said like she was offended at the insinuation that she didn’t know how. “You know my price. You know I don’t give no discounts on anal, not no how.”
He smiled. He kissed Bethlyn on the lips. “Yo’ daddy lettin’ you go out sometime, baby? I take you out to dinner-“
“No, sugah, that ain’t allowed,” she said. She pulled her dress back up over her tits.
He shrugged like he was expecting that answer, which he was: he asked her that every time she sucked him off. She said no every time he hired her, which was most weeks — basically unless she was with a different john when he arrived. He didn’t like waiting for her because it gave him plenty of time to wonder what kind of guy she was with, and then she’d inevitably taste like another man when he did get to kiss her. He knew that she was with a lot of men regardless, it was just easier to forget that when he didn’t have to wait for her to be finished with them.
“Hey, girl,” he said to Avery as he smacked Avery’s asscheeks. “Will you suck my nut out yo’ asshole? I want that. That’s hot, man. I love that. Ain’t no kinda girls ever do that. I never seen a female do that, and it turns me on so much-” He paused, then lied as he realized he had sort of admitted he did this with a man before “I mean, some girls do it, some do. That’s how I know how hot it is. But a lot of ‘em won’t do it, nuh-uh.” The only person he had ever seen suck cum out of his own ass was his cellmate, but Wink wasn’t about to admit that.
“Okay, yeah,” Avery said.
Wink smiled. He let go of the prostitute and slowly withdrew his limp dick. He gagged at the sight of juices dripping from it. He laughed so loud it echoed against the walls of the dumpster. “Ugh, this is so nasty, girl, I love it. I’m gonna love you too if you do this. I swear to God, I will marry you any day if you promise to do ass-to-mouth. So fuckin’ nasty. Nasty. Nasty. Nasty. I love it.”
He stroked his cock with one hand. It was so sensitive he yelped and his body undulated beneath the suit. He loosened the tie with his other hand. He rammed two fingers into Avery’s ass. He gagged again, laughing nervously at his own reaction. He clawed inside Avery’s body, causing a torrent of pain and exquisite post-orgasmic pleasure. He pulled his fingers out and watched with wide-eyed amazement as Avery sucked them clean.
His fingers and hand were soaked in cum and assjuice. Avery loved it. If he had thought Wink would ever agree to finger his asshole, he would have asked — he would have paid more if he knew it was an option, so he was glad Wink had initiated it for free instead. Wink’s fingers were callused and scarred, and they tasted like stale sweat beneath the assjuice and cum. When he had finished with Wink’s hand, Avery slurped on his sensitive shaft, sucking down all the fluids and grime and caked-on sweat sticking to it. Wink shuddered as a burst of ecstasy wracked his body, and Bethlyn walked on with a sick look on her face.
“That was so disgusting, girl, I love it,” he said to Avery. “I swear to God, I will marry you, baby.” He paused. “I ain’t serious, I know you ain’t no girl. I won’t marry you. No how, no way.”
“I know,” Avery said. He pulled his own pants up. He felt grimy and dirty, but he loved that feeling. He watched Wink tuck away his own cock and zip his slacks back up.
Daddy’s here, where’s my money, babies?!
A black man in a fine blue suit — this one was perfectly tailored, vibrantly colored and clean as a whistle — Slim Jay — walked into the alley. He bellowed, and the prostitutes at the other end of the alley all spoke at once. There was a chorus of feminine voices.
The pimp didn’t notice Bethlyn there, so she stepped out from behind him. She smiled and giggled to get his attention.
“Oh, hello, baby, whatchoo doin’ back there?” He saw Wink. “G’evenin’, Wink. You got yo’ usual?”
Wink laughed. “Not the usual, exactly. But I got what I need, nigga, no pro’lem.” He walked away, dapping his head as he walked, dancing to an unheard beat just like he was when he entered the alley.
Avery hid there in the shadows for a moment, while the prostitute handed her money over and explained what had happened. When her pimp glowered like the money she had earned was not enough, Avery wondered if he was going to get in trouble after all.
So he fled into the night. He was thin and quick, and the pimp didn’t know he was there, so he just darted right past him and ran out of the alley, still tasting remnents of his own ass and Wink’s cock. He didn’t wash all night, so he could keep savoring the flavor.
He had no idea that Wink did something similar — he didn’t wash his dick off either, even though it was dirty. He went to bed stinking of a small, effeminate man, hoping to dream of that cellmate whose tender touch he still craved.
Rob is on parole, which means obeying the legendary Mr. Gerald. He’s a stern, no-nonsense man who doesn’t mind cracking skulls and kicking ass… and he goes even further than that. But when Rob asks to receive one of Mr. Gerald’s harshest of punishments, they’re both in for a wild ride they didn’t expect!
Can Rob handle what Mr. Gerald is ready to dish out?
Read the whole thing here
Rob had six months of parole, and he was looking forward to it. He had been assigned to “Mr. Gerald”, an ex-drill sergeant. Rob had had to pull a few strings to make sure he was assigned to Mr. Gerald’s caseload. He sought that out because, according to street rumors, Mr. Gerald was known to force his parolees to jerk him off.
That was something Rob was down for indeed. Mr. Gerald was buff like a soldier but just craggy enough, like a stately butte. His nose was splatted like it had been broken many times or maybe just once but really badly. His skin was dark like new cast-iron, and his eyes were old like a wise turtle. He had a simmering grandness to him, like he thought he was more muscular than he was, he was actually kind of lanky.
He had a great mustache too. Rob was a sucker for a black guy with a mustache. He wanted to suck the hairs right off his upper lip. And he had big broad shoulders that shook as he filled out a form with Rob’s personal information on it.
“So you work as a writer? A freelance writer?”
“Yep.”
“That don’t sound like a real job. I want you to get a real job,” Mr. Gerald said.
“Yes, sir,” Rob said. He wasn’t going to do that, but he wanted to be agreeable. Rob’s family was very wealthy. He didn’t have to report that on his intake documents, so he didn’t mention that he was in no need of a job.
If he was going to get punished by Mr. Gerald, after all, he was going to need to fail at something.
“Do you have any skills?”
“Just-“
“Don’t say writin’, man.”
“Then no. Sir.”
“Alright, I can hook you up with a job at Taco Dell. I know the manager there. I like the way you called me sir without me…” He looked Rob up and down and sucked on his lower lip. The mustache on his upper lip quivered. “Without me makin’ a big deal out of it.”
Damn it. That was it, Rob thought. If Rob hadn’t called him sir, Mr. Gerald would have throated him down, he was sure of it. That was what the look on his face said. Damn it! He was looking for a reason to do it.
Black guys don’t call him sir, probably. That was why they said on the street that Mr. Gerald only or especially goes after black guys. He’ll nut on a nigga face, nine times outta ten. He don’t even wanchu to swallow. He wanna see you walk outta there with nut on yo’ face, telling him thank you the whole time. He like that. That’s what one of the hobos Rob jerked off last week told him. His name was Greenbelly, and Mr. Gerald was looking for him.
Rob wasn’t gonna snitch though, and anyway, he didn’t know where Greenbelly was. Or his real name for that matter.
“Oh, uh…” Rob blushed. He quaked. Had he gone through all this for nothing? He was entranced by Mr. Gerald’s big muscles, his biceps bulging from the rolled-up sleeve of his stained and faded button-down shirt. He wasn’t married, that was obvious. He didn’t wear cologne. His mustche was neat but his scruffy beard hairs were not thoroughly shaved, like he had done it without a mirror. His shirt had an old mustard stain on it. No wife would let him outta the house in that shirt.
Mr. Gerald wordlessly filled out his paperwork. “You do drugs?”
“No, sir.”
“You’re gonna do a piss test next time,” he said. He glanced up and made eye contact with Rob. “What? You look mad. What?”
“It’s just…” Rob took a deep breath. He decided to be blunt with him. “I heard a rumor about you, Mr. Gerald.”
“What? I don’t like rumormongering. I don’t condone it. A man should stand behind the shit he says,” Mr. Gerald said.
“I heard… you sometimes make guys jerk you off.”
Mr. Gerald glowered at him. His dark eyes were expressionless. “What? You insinuatin’ I force my parolees into somethin’?” He watched Rob pop one of his fingers into his mouth and sucked on it. “Mothahfuckah, you think I can’t get a woman? That is fucked up. That ain’t no kinda thing I would ever do,” Mr. Gerald said with a raspy frown and a wag of one callused finger. “And I resent you for bringin’ up that kinda scurrilous accusation.”
“Oh, I’m sorry-“
“That kind of b’avior would violate the Department of Corrections’s Pillars of Respect, and any nigga who know me knows that I am all about the Pillars of Respect. I know you haven’t yet watched the video about the Pillars of Respect, but when you do, you will unduhstand that they is at the heart of… you know, all the bullshit.” He sniffled as he lost his train of thought. “If you act propuh, I will let you skip the video.”
“I will do literally anything to skip that video,” Rob said.
“Shut yo’ lie-hole, Mistuh Winthrop. Ain’t not a soul make no kinda accusation of that sort. Sometimes motherfuckahs be beggin’ for a way to prove how much respect they got for me. Y’know… sometimes, motherfuckahs be thinkin’ callin’ me sir is the worst thing I could force ‘em to do… only the trick is, I can’t force ‘em to do that. I can’t pull no words outta someone’s mouth. So I gotta focus on gettin’ respect out of ‘em through some other means. Ya feel me?” He stood up and came closer to Rob. He grabbed him by the chin and played with his lower lip. “You wanna jerk me off?”
“Yes!” Rob immediately moved to grab for his crotch, but Mr. Gerald slapped his hand away.
“I ain’t say you could. I was just doin’ a survey, like for gauging general interest among the populace,” Mr. Gerald said. He pointed to a spot on the floor. “Get on yo’ knees.”
Rob did as he was told. His heart thumped. He was going to get to do this after all.
“You know our meetin’ is done, right? I ain’t keepin’ you here no more? I’d rather you leave, to be honest,” Mr. Gerald said. He unzipped his slacks and pulled out a massive cock with a big veiny shaft. When Rob went for it, Mr. Gerald slapped him. “I ain’t consent to you touchin’ it. I’m still makin’ sure you know I don’t like you, and I don’t want you touchin’ my dick. This ain’t how I get off. I ain’t like that. Strikes me as unbiblical,” he said. “That ain’t the parole department’s opinion, mind you, that’s a personal thought, and I gots a right to it.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I think this is a tool,” he said. He flopped his limp dick onto Rob’s face. Rob opened his mouth to lick, but Mr. Gerald slapped him again. “Get that tongue back in yo’ mouth, boy. This here is my tool, not yo’ lollipop. It’s a tool I use to insert respect back into mouthy motherfuckahs who lost they respect in some tragic accident. Ya feel me?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now, I am gonna ram you in the throat cuz you asked me nice and I like the way yo’ lips is all soft and shit,” he said. He rubbed Rob’s lips with one callused finger. “Don’t you dare be spreadin’ none of them falsities ‘bout how I make men jerk me off. I don’t do that. That’s contrary to Pillars Two, Four and arguably Five of the Pillars of Respect.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You seducin’ me right now. You turnin’ this office into a hostile work environment ‘gainst me, boy. I oughta cite you for that,” he said. He chuckled throatily as he spread Rob’s lips with his fingers and rubbed his limp dick over Rob’s gums and teeth.
He still wasn’t trying to get hard. His dick was just slightly firm, one stage up from jiggly. It flopped like a lively snake over Rob’s face, He chuckled. “Hmm-hmm…” He licked his teeth. He left his dick on Rob’s nose. “Lotta my men would be buckin’ right now. You submittin’ just right.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“You ramrod men?” He battered Rob’s face with his spongy dick. “You ever do it, you know, stick ya dick in a nigga? Or a Arab or whatever?”
Rob nodded. He straightened his posture. “Yeah, I-“
He slapped Rob across the face. “Not me, if that’s what you thinkin’. I was — how much is you into it? I was not asking ’bout me. You wanna ramrod a morbidly obese Arab man? He hairy as shit. Too fat to shower. Five hundred pounds. He bathes with a rag on a stick, sometimes, when I tell him to. I woulda done ramrod the ever-mighty fuck outta him cuz he bin breaking the rules, but I don’t wanna put my dick in him.”
“No, I don’t… I don’t wanna do that,” Rob said.
“Hmm-hmm.” He wrinkled his nose. “Can’t say I blame ya.”
“He sounds like he has a mental health problem-“
He slapped Rob again. “Don’chu think I know that? Mothahfuckah, you got a solution for it-?”
“No, I just-“
“Then shut the fuck up, don’t point out problems you don’t got a solution for,” Mr. Gerald said. He mollywopped Rob with his dick, which had grown even limper now, it was jiggly all the way. He snarled at Rob. “Pissy shithead.”
“Sorry, sir,” Rob said. He shrugged. “What’d he do?”
“Raped his aunt. She got that Down syndrome.”
“Oh. That’s bad. Shouldn’t do that.”
He slapped Rob again. “What’d I say ’bout pointin’ out problems you don’t got a solution for?”
“Sorry, sir,” Rob said again. He stuck his tongue out, and it got the underside of Mr. Gerald’s dick.
“Anyway, Mistuh Winthrop, you doin’ good. When one my men is actin’ insolent, suckin’ on his teeth like a nigga do, I make him sit here wit’ my dick on his face during my spiel. You wanna keep it there durin’ my spiel?”
“Yes, please.”
“A’ight.” He cleared his throat, which made his dick jiggle atop Rob’s face. “Well, first of all, you got any street names? I gotsta ask.”
“No, sir.”
“You gotsta report to me any nickname you evuh used.”
“Ever?” Rob chuckled, making the dickfat resting atop his fce jiggle. “Well, some friends used to call me Winclap, cuz… well, it’s a long story-“
“Do not tell me a long story, mothahfuckah.”
“Okay, uh… Some other friends used to call me Jaxwing, which was my D&D character, uh, R-Queen, Throat Queen, Neck, Other Rob — that was when I was in rehab, we weren’t allowed to use last names, for confidentiality. I think that’s it,” he said. “Oh! My brothers call me Babywrist.”
“Any those got gang connotations?” He looked down at Rob, then slapped him again with his dickmeat.
“No, sir.”
“Okay, well if I catch you usin’ any unapproved nicknames, I’m sendin’ you to the big house! For…” He looked at Rob’s file. “Six weeks.”
“Yes, sir.”
“If I catch you watchin’ any video pornography, I’m sendin’ you to the big house. That’s pervert shit, I don’t like that, that’s disrespectin’ women, I-“
“Yes, sir.”
“Shut up,” he said. He slapped Rob. “Don’t interrupt me.” He cleared his throat. “Stick out ya tongue.”
Rob did so. Mr. Gerald grunted, grabbed his tongue with two fingers and pulled it out so far it hurt. He rested his piss-slit on it. He waited to see if Rob would object or pull away or gag. He did not.
“Next. No catcallin’ at females, no gettin’ fresh wit’ a woman, and it’s up to the woman or me to decide what’s fresh. I don’t need yo’ input on freshness,” Mr. Gerald said. He wagged his finger at Rob, which made his dick jiggle clear off Rob’s face. Mr. Gerald put it back. “Next. You can’t be homeless. If you homeless, you stayin’ wit’ me, and I am ramroddin’ you e’ery chance I get.” He bristled. “Scratch that, you’d prolly enjoy it.”
Rob nodded without remove his tongue from Mr. Gerald’s dicktip.
“If you homeless, I’ll make you spend the night somewhere you don’t like. Where there’s no musical theater and no club music,” he said. He chuckled. “You is required to go to the religious institution of yo’ choosin’, and yes I is allowed to do that, if you atheist, you go to the humanist group at the university, okay, and just like hell it’s full of atheists and feminists, so it’ll be a preview of yo’ future,” he said. “This town gots churches, mosques, synagogues and some Hindu things and things that ain’t quite Hindu but I don’t get the difference. And a Buddhist thing. You pagan?”
Rob shook his head.
“Good. Which church you go to?”
“I don’t have a regular one, I, uh…”
“You go to First Grace from now on,” he said. “I know the pastor. I’ll be checkin’.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Hmm-hmmm…” He paused. “You Communist?”
“No, sir.”
“Good. You one them Satanists?”
“No, sir.”
“Good.” He slapped Rob. “I won’t be respectin’ no Satanism as a religion, and the Supreme Court can say that to my face!”
Rob chuckled cuz his words didn’t quite make sense, but he got the gist, and he settled down when Mr. Gerald glared at him like he better not point that out. Rob stuck his tongue back out onto Mr. Gerald’s piss-slit. His tongue was getting dry though. He chased the tip of Mr. Gerald’s dick til he saw that glare again, then he settled still.
“You may open yo’ mouth.”
Rob did so, as wide as he could, and he waited for Mr. Gerald to signal he could proceed. Rob then swallowed his dick down to the root. It was starting to get hard, that must be why he decided to move on, and in Rob’s mouth, it rapidly firmed up. He looked up at Mr. Gerald’s surprised face — he probably didn’t normally get dome from guys who could deep-throat like Rob.
Mr. Gerald held onto the back of Rob’s head and plowed into him, treating his mouth like it was a pussy. His balls slapped against Rob’s chin. He held onto Rob’s ears.
“You doin’ it good, boy, no gaggin’ at all. They comin’ out wit’ good white boys these days. It’s been awhile since I had a white boy who could take my dick this good. Try to swallow the whole thing, you feel me?”
He nodded, and Rob relaxed his throat. Mr. Gerald pinched his nose shut, which helped his throat open even wider, and he got more, more than half of his shaft, to squeeze down Rob’s throat. Rob choked. Mr. Gerald clucked his tongue.
“Nah. Stay like that.” He lightly slapped Rob’s cheek. Rob again bucked as his throat rebelled, and his eyes bugged out. Then at last Mr. Gerald pulled his dick out and let him take a breath.
“Thank you for lettin’ me breathe, sir,” Rob said, panting between words.
“Hmm-hmm…” Mr. Gerald said. “You wanna swallow my nut, or you want me to paint you white?”
“Swallow.”
“Good. I don’t like nuttin’ on a white man, cuz you can’t see it. If you was darkskin, I’d paint you white as pigeon shit,” he said, and he let out a bellowing cackle. He clapped his hands. His balls jiggled on Rob’s chin. “I’mma fuck yo’ mouf a little, like a pussy.”
Rob nodded.
“T’weren’t a question, and I don’t need feedback on it,” he said. He held onto Rob’s ears and rammed at his mouth, firm but not hard, more humping his tongue than “fucking” his throat. Rob grabbed his muscular thighs, but Mr. Gerald slapped his hands away. “Don’t touch me, freak.” He chuckled. “Oh, yeah, no beard. Don’t grow a beard. I won’t wanna use yo’ mouf if you got a beard.”
He reached behind himself on the desk, and he picked up his phone. He unlocked it, then scrutinized something he seemed to find annoying. He wrinkled his nose at it. Then he swiped to something else, and he showed Rob the screen.
“See? This is a website about female rugby,” he asid. “It’s not pornography.”
Rob nodded.
“Good. I ain’t bein’ hippocritical. Some niggas is makin’ ‘ccusations ’bout that,” he said. He seemed about to say something else, but he saw a rugby player he liked and his words melted into a low hum. His dick pulsated against Rob’s tongue. “Hmm-hmm… Lookit them thighs, nigga…”
Finally a burst of salty precum exploded in Rob’s sense. That must be one sexy female rugby player, Rob thought, because Mr. Gerald’s meat raced from mostly hard to spewing precum and throbbing mightily in about two seconds. He wondered what race the rugby player was. He wished he could ask without taking his mouth off Mr. Gerald’s cock.
“How nasty you get, boy?” he asked.
“Very.” Rob’s voice was muffled by a mouthful of prenut, which he neither swallowed nor spat out.
“Good. That was the right answer,” he said. He pulled his dick away, then he stood up off. He motioned to the desk. “You. Bend ovuh that.”
Rob raced to comply. He was about to drop his pants, then he realized Mr. Gerald didn’t tell him to do so, he so he stopped. Then he realized he’d enjoy the punishment for doing it anyway, so he did it anyway. His jeans plopped to the floor around his ankles, and he shimmied down his underwear. That bared his pale ass, which Mr. Gerald grumbled at.
“Hmm-hmmmm, I don’t appreciate too much eagerness, boy,” he said. “I ain’t say to take yo’ ass out.”
“Sorry, sir. You wanna spank me-?”
“What? No, I ain’t toleratin’ no kinda BDSM nonsense, boy, and that’s another thing that ain’t allowed, don’t go aftuh me with none that free association shit neither, I will wallop you, straight up wallop! No kinky shit. No leather, no whips, no chains, I don’t care how consentin’ it is, no way,” he said. “No feet!”
“No feet?”
“In sex. You can keep yo’ feet for walkin’ on,” he said.
“Okay then,” Rob said. He looked behind himself, but he couldn’t see Mr. Gerald.
“Don’t worry ’bout me, you keep lookin’ that way,” he said. “You see that clipboard on the desk?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Grab it. Fill it out. That’s yo’ form 10G, you best respect it.”
“Oh, I do.”
“The state mandates you fill that you e’ery week. Actually it mandates I fill it out, but I am not fillin’ it out, you bitch-ass punk, you is doin’ it,” he said. He punched Rob in the meat of his asscheek. It hurt much worse than Rob was expecting, and he yelped. Mr. Gerald barked. “I said fill it out!”
Rob raced to do so. At the bottom was where Mr. Gerald was supposed to fill in the answers to the standard parole questions. There were two additional pages of follow-ups. It included everything from “how many lawfully registered firearms are in the place where you live?” to “do you know of the whereabouts of any of the Missing or Endangered Indigenous Women of the Dangerously Ignored Serial Killer Murder Epidemic of the Western States?”.
“What’s with this murdered indigenous women thing?”
“You murder any indigenous women?”
“No.”
“Then just write down no.”
“You have to ask me that every week?”
“Yep. So, y’know, keep track.”
“Also, I haven’t asked any of my acquaintances if they’ve violated the Somali Warlords Act of 2003,” Rob said. “It’s entirely possible I know lots of Somali warlords.”
“You know any Somalis?”
“I don’t judge people by the color of their skin. Anybody can be a Somali warlord.”
“Just put no!” Mr. Gerald said with a snarl. He was deeply engrossed in the rugby women on his phone, and it sounded to Rob like he had gotten distracted watching video clips from an actual women’s rugby game. “Them Polynesian girls is hefty. You know ’bout them?”
“Yeah,” Rob said. “I’ve been to Samoa. It’s nice, the women are huge.”
“Really? You know any Samoan women in the US?” Mr. Gerald asked. He stabbed his hardon between Rob’s asscheeks, and he leaned in, pushing it at his butthole. “Don’t lie to me.”
“I do not, sorry,” Rob said.
“Lookit them thighs, damn…” Mr. Gerald showed Rob the phone but the glare made it impossible to see. “She could squeeze the nigga outta me. Make me white as you, shit!” Rob didn’t care. He opened his asshole the best he could, practically sucking Mr. Gerald’s dick in.
A surge of both pain and pleasure hit Rob, and Mr. Gerald grunted. He dropped his phone, which landed on the small of Rob’s back. Mr. Gerald grunted again. Rob put down the clipboard.
“You finished that form 10G?”
“No.”
“Boy, if you don’t finish it, I will slap the senseless outta you,” Mr. Gerald said. He thrust his hips, forcing more of his dick into Rob. He began gently sliding his cock out but firmly ramming it back in, each time upping the pleasure like a ratchet where it boiled within Rob. Rob clutched the desk underneath him, and he knocked the pen he had been using onto the floor.
He grabbed another pen. He groaned. The sensations emanating from his ass were enormous, and Mr. Gerald’s pounding was relentless. He looked at the last question. “What are my aspirations for the week?”
“That’s right.” Mr. Gerald said. His voice wavered with each thrust of his hips. “Hmmm… hmm…” He tried to play it cool, but his voice broke and he let out a little moan, which he stifled. “Aspiration means goal.”
“Yes, I get it, I just… My aspiration is to take your nut in whatever hole you want it,” Rob said, panting, writhing, wanting to be for more.
“Hmm-hmmm… That’s a very good answer. It’s a wrong answer, but it’s the best wrong answer,” Mr. Gerald said. “The right answer is to stay outta trouble, worship Christ and obey yo’ boss, landlord, pastor and officers of the law. Spelling does not count.”
Rob struggled to write all that while Mr. Gerald pounded at his sensitive ass. Bliss exploded with each pump of his hips, and the entire hugeness of his shaft went in each time. Rob suspected few of Mr. Gerald’s parolees took the whole dick up their ass. It was actually quite difficult to force a man to take a big dick in a hole that both doesn’t want it and is too small for it, and probably it was more effective as a deterrent than a punishment. Rob, however, was eager to be punished, not deterred.
All at once, Mr. Gerald stopped. “Oh, you goin’ to First Grace from now on. In the basement of that church, boy, there’s a man, his name is Cassius, he’s an old retired boxer. He kinda retarded. If you tell him you’s me, he’ll believe you and bend ovuh, you can ram him all night long if you want. I did. Trained him good too,” he said. “He’s kinda old, but his ass is still tight. You’ll like him. He’s bettuh than that fatass Arab fellah.” He clucked his tongue. “I dunno what to do about him.”
“I’ll check out Cassius,” Rob said through his gasps of pleasure.
“You gonna do ass-to-mouth?”
“Yes, sir, please!”
“That wasn’t a question.” He grunted.
It sure sounded like a question, but Rob didn’t say so, as a burst of relief made him moan out loud. Mr. Gerald pulled his dick out. It felt so good Rob’s knees went weak. Then Mr. Gerald shoved him to the ground.
He rammed his cocktip back into Rob’s mouth, and the grimy flavor of Rob’s own ass filled his senses. Rob cried out around the dick in his mouth. He couldn’t help but grab his own cock and stroked it, instantly triggering his own orgasm.
Jizz spurted onto Rob’s chest and some onto Mr. Gerald’s legs. He didn’t notice because he closed his eyes as he humped his giant ass-coated cock on every inch of Rob’s tongue, then plowed down his throat like before. He again pinched Rob’s nostrils shut so he could go all the way down.
“Alright boy, no spillin’ my nut, that ain’t respectful,” he said. “Violates Pillar Two.” Then he chuckled. “What am I sayin’? I ain’t gotta tell you not to spill. I bet you love swallowin’ nut.” His chuckling broke as he orgasmed. “Hnnnn-hmmmmm….” His whole body undulated, and he closed his eyes.
He slammed his dick all the way in. Rob could feel him orgasm in the throbbing of the vein on his dick, which pulsated against Rob’s tongue. But Mr. Gerald’s dick was so deep in his throat that Rob didn’t taste the actual cum at first, just the precum that already coated his shaft.
“Hmmm… boy, you drainin’ me, that’s good…” His voice was low and rumbly like velvet sandpaper, and he bucked his hips, making sweet love to Rob’s throat. He gripped his hair tightly, rubbing his crotch and balls all over Rob’s face.
Finally, he pulled out, and the taste of salty-sweet cum assaulted Rob’s senses. He moaned and swallowed every drop, even as his belly contorted and his lungs cried out for oxygen. He slathered Mr. Gerald’s dick with spit and cum as he let it slowly plop out.
“Goddamn, boy.” Mr. Gerald said with a chuckle.
Rob gasped for air. “Hmmm… You taste so good… I love your dick, Mr. Gerald, I-“
“Hush. I don’t need you to talk,” Mr. Gerald said. The mustache on his upper lip quivered. He sighed and leaned back. “Shit…”
“Hmmm…” Rob smacked his lips and wiped his face off. the smell of jizz and ass coated his mug. “I didn’t spill any, I promise.” He quickly put his own clothes back on. It was always best, he thought, to leave them wanting more, so he intended to leave right away.
Mr. Gerald nodded. “Hey, boy.”
“Yes, sir?” Rob headed for the door.
“I take back what I said about my dick not bein’ your personal lollipop. You can come back and mouth me off whenever you want,” he said. He handed his business card over, with his home address written on it. “Okay?”
“Yes, sir!”
Mark has lost it all at the race-track, and he’s desperate to get it back! Will Tyrell give him a second chance?
Read it all here!
On his knees just inches from the dumpster, Mark cried. He looked up at Tyrell hoping for mercy, but there was none. The smell of rotting garbage from the racetrack was intense and revolting. Mark’s nose had gotten used to it though. It was sour and bitter, bracing like a cold wind early in a crisp morning.
“I’ll do anything.” He blushed. Mark had been raised in privilege, so he had rarely had to beg anyone for anything. But he had bet it all on a pony — literally, he had bet everything he had in a last-ditch effort to make a fortune — and lost it. Now Mark needed to do whatever it took to undo that mistake.
It should have worked. He was on a bad streak, and it should have been over with. He calculated the odds. He was due for a big win. The universe owed him a big win.
“I’ll consider letting you take your bet back,” Tyrell said, his grizzled jaw shaking as he chewed on his lower lip, “But you gotta show me you deserve it. Take my dick outta my pants.” He outlined his cock in the black slacks all the racetrack security wore. The fabric was not thick, and the massiveness of his shaft was apparent through the cloth.
“What?”
“If you take my dick outta my pants and you can look at it without sobbing like a prison bitch, I’ll consider letting you take your bet back,” Tyrell said. He had a big beaming face like a bully. He was that kind of guy, you could tell he’d always been handsome, always perfect, women always went chasing after him, adults approved of him. He had aggressively appealing dimples. A man shouldn’t have dimples like that. It’s demeaning for other men. Tyrell rolled his eyes above his awkward smile. “If you can look at my dick without sobbing at what a deadbeat you are, I’ll consider letting you take back the debt. No promises though, just consideration.” He crossed his arms over his chest, which made his powerful chest muscles pop through his tailored suit.
A part of Mark’s mind thought he should just say no and cut his losses, but he needed to get his money back. If he did, he could place a bet when the track reopened tomorrow. All this unpleasantness would go away with a well-placed bet.
He undid the zipper of Tyrell’s jeans and pulled his dick out. He had never touched another man’s cock or even looked at one closely. He gagged at the sweaty scent, and the limp, greasy feel of it. Did all dicks look and smell like that? He had never looked at his own so closely.
“You don’t like the smell of cocksweat, huh?” Tyrell said with a dry, throaty chuckle. His voice was gravelly and rough, like he gargled with rusty nails.
“No,” Mark said. His lip quivered but he held back his tears. He didn’t want to embarrass himself any more than he already had.
“You wanna kiss my dick?” Tyrell asked with a comforting lilt to his voice, as though he thought it likely Mark did want to kiss his dick.
“Do I have to?”
“No, but it might help.”
Mark blushed and kissed it. He gagged again at that greasy texture. It tasted like cum already, like Tyrell had fucked some girl without a condom and then never showered. He probably did precisely that, Tyrell was that way. You could see it in how he carried himself. Women probably tossed their fucking pussies at him. Some men have it so easy, Mark thought.
“That was nice. You wanna taste it?”
“No…”
“You might decide you like it,” he said.
“I won’t,” Mark said with a wince, avoiding Tyrell’s penetrating gaze.
“If you open your mouth, I’ll consider letting you take your bet back.”
“That’s what you said before.”
“I know. I did consider it. The result of my consideration was that I told you to open your mouth if you want me to continue the process of reconsidering. You can always say no and just walk away, take a loss, admit you got got, you been defeated. You know, if this was the olden days, you and ya family would all be sold into slavery. All I’s asking you to do is open your mouth anyway. I ain’t say I’d wreck yo’ throat like the deadbeat-bitch you are.” Tyrell smiled. “I didn’t say I won’t wreck your throat like a deadbeat-bitch either. I ain’t makin’ a comment on that. Who can predict the future? I thought McCain was gonna win.”
Mark winced and blushed. After going through all this, he thought, fate was surely gonna give him a win when he placed that bet tomorrow — Lady Luck rewarded those who took big risks. He opened his mouth. He could handle it.
He gagged as Tyrell’s manhood pushed in. It was long and thick, limp and clammy at first. But it very quickly firmed up, then dripped precum down Mark’s throat.
“Oh. I guess I am gonna turn your throat into my personal pussy,” Tyrell said with a shrug. “I’m as shocked as you are.”
The taste was terrible. It was like fart and sweat and a little like nasty pussy. The more Mark tasted, the more certain he was that Tyrell had been fucking a whore earlier. Tyrell had a fat female neighbor whom he used as a booty call. He had fucked her right after his shower when he bumped into her in the hall. He drained his nuts in her pussy, then left her there fingering herself to orgasm, both because he didn’t care about pleasing her and because he didn’t want to be late for work or Mr. Gregarian would yell at him.
Could people out in the parking lot see as they drove by? Mark couldn’t tell if they were able to see. He prayed not. The alley was wide open and connected to the street, but trash cans and dumpsters probably blocked the view. If they did see him slurping on this stranger’s cock, Mark thought, he’d never be able to live down the rumors.
The more Mark did, the more he thought fate would reward him with a win when this was all over. He could feel it in his bones, and when he saw those lights flashing, it’d all be worth it. He’d be able to retire if he won really big. And Tyrell here would look at him with such burning jealousy.
Mark could already feel it. It hadn’t happened yet but it felt so real it might as well have. Mark imagined what he would say to Tyrell when that happened, how superior he would feel, how pitiful Tyrell would look. Tyrell would have to offer Mark free wine, free hotel rooms, free meals. He’d have to bow and serve Mark because he was a high roller.
But first he needed to make it through this. He had never tasted a cock before, and he had no idea how difficult it would be. He had rather assumed it would taste more or less like pussy, especially in this case since pussyjuice was caked onto Tyrell’s shaft, but it actually tasted much worse than that. There was a definite piss-like flavor, Mark thought as he sputtered on the cock invading his gullet, and it made him want to vomit.
The part that Mark hated was the choking. He gagged on the taste and on the fleshy missile poking its way down his throat. Tyrell was relentless, and he even seemed to enjoy seeing Mark gag. His throat rebelled at it. Tyrell held onto Mark’s head by the ears, ramming with all his might, like he was trying to shatter something in there. Tyrell had massive balls too, and he smelled the bitter sweat clinging to his sacskin when it was launched by his thrusts to splatter on Mark’s chin and lower lip. It was salty and foul, and it made his gags worse, as did the wiry pubes, scratchy and coarse, where Mark’s forehead slammed into the meat of his powerful body. Tyrell used his throat like a fleshlight, and Mark couldn’t help but squeeze his choking throat around it.
“Yeah, it’s okay to gag a little. That’s because you’s tastin’ real man right now,” Tyrell said. He grumbled and licked his teeth. “Yo’ body is used to bein’ a bitch, cuz that’s what you is, ya fuckin’ deadbeat.”
He pulled his massive cock out and slapped Mark over the face with it. It was harder than seemed possible, like getting slapped by an iron rod. He laughed when Mark gasped for air and heaved. He held Mark’s head in place by holding onto a lock of his hair.
“Lemme… take… a break…”
“Nah,” he said. He pried Mark’s jaws apart and fed his cock back down his throat. It tasted a little like bile now, in addition to everything else. Mark gagged and choked on it all over again.
Another man in a fine suit appeared in the alley. “Hey Tyrell, did Cue call out sick today?” This man was smaller than Tyrell, and the suit was nicer — he was not security. He was the owner. Was this the guy who could let Mark take his bet back? He glanced down at Mark but didn’t say anything to him.
“Yes, Mr. Gregarian,” Tyrell said. He slammed his dick all the way down Mark’s throat. A shudder of pleasure ran up his spine, making his tie shake above his broad chest muscles.
“Tell Cue that if he does it again, I’ll fire his ass,” Mr. Gregarian said with a scowl. He took a few steps away, then stopped. “Is that deadbeat slurpin’ on your dick properly?”
Tyrell snorted. “Not really.”
“Hey, deadbeat,” Mr. Gregarian said like he was talking to a deaf, retarded person. “Hey, you prolly got a gamblin’ problem, you think?”
Tyrell pulled away so Mark could answer. But tears streamed from Mark’s eyes and he couldn’t catch his breath. A few scattered syllables escaped from his throat as he tried to explain what had happened.
His family had really started this. They had brought him to a restaurant for a family get-together — to celebrate his brother’s engagement to some girl Mark had never met. As it turned out, he had never met her because she didn’t exist.
There was no restaurant. There was no engagement. There was no fiancée. There was only an “intervention”, which was what some therapist called it when your family attacks you and reminds you of all your failures as though you might have forgot.
We’re worried about you. You spend all your time at the track. You’ve lost so much money.
They didn’t understand. Mark tried to explain, but they weren’t listening. They were fixated on the idea that he was a gambling addict. Mark thought that might be true, but what they didn’t understand was that horse-racing wasn’t even really gambling — there was real science behind it. Mark was developing a way to predict which horses would do best.
He would have played along, however, and spent some time keeping a low profile. But one of his email contacts had said that a particular horse’s odds had been misprinted. The horse was On Her Mark, which Mark took to be a sign.
So he had bet it all on a pony. And now here he was in the track’s garbage-strewn alley, sobbing as he tried to explain it all to the owner of the racetrack and the attached bar. Mr. Gregarian listened as though he really cared about the story. He clucked his tongue against his teeth like a kindergarten teacher listening to a child explain why he was crying.
“Oh, I see,” he said, though there was no way he had understood more than a few words of that, because Mark had never even caught his breath, he was still panting and heaving throughout the story. Mr. Gregarian nodded. “You know what? I’m allowed to make a limited number of exceptions. That’s part of my power as a manager here at the track.”
“Really?!”
“Fo’ real, homie,” he said with a snicker. “I will consider giving you your money back if you prove how much you regret your actions.”
“I’ll do anything!”
“Lick Tyrell’s asshole,” Mr. Gregarian said, stifling a laugh. Tyrell laughed too. “Ram your dumb deadbeat tongue into his filthy fucking ass. He’s got a nasty asshole.”
Tyrell undid his slacks and dropped them to his knees before Mark had even said yes. His cock was hard, sticking through the fly, so he had to awkwardly angle it down in order to lower his pants. His dick was so big, his pants got caught on it. Tyrell laughed and said, “Hey, don’t make it seem like my ass is especially nasty, Mistuh Gregarian, I don’t got — nothing’s wrong with my asshole. It’s dirty like all assholes are dirty-“
“Shut up, Tyrell-“
“You’re making me sound like a degenerate,” Tyrell said. He had a huge pair of asscheeks, powerfully muscled too, you could sense the strength of his thighs through the tender firmness of his ass.
Mr. Gregarian rolled his eyes, while Mark stared at the bare ass before him like an erupting volcano. Mr. Gregarian clucked his tongue and shook his head. “You can always quit gamblin’. You don’t gotta keep going, deadbeat.”
But Mark was more sure than ever that this was going to work. The more disgusting things he did to make it happen, the more certain he was that he’d win when he bet it all on another pony. Maybe, he thought, this will take all night. That would make sense, fate-wise, he’d finish and get his cash back just as the track was reopening tomorrow. He’d be able to walk right back to that ticket counter, place a new bet and smirk at Tyrell and Mr. Gregarian as he collected his winnings.
So he dived between those cheeks while Mr. Gregarian cackled and Tyrell grunted as though he hadn’t thought Mark would go through with it. Tyrell was a meaty man with thick, plump asscheeks, the crack of which was choked with kinky brown hairs. He yelped a little in surprise when Mark’s head entered his asscheeks.
Mark just left his face there at first. Then Mark took a breath, and the taste of ass flooded his mouth. He hadn’t even licked anything yet, but the flavor was overwhelming. Sweat-soaked hairs scratched at his chin and nose.
“Stick your tongue out, deadbeat. Lick his asshole,” Mr. Gregarian said. “You gotta get your tongue in the hole to get me to reconsider your bet. That’s how I know you’ve really learned your lesson.”
He tentatively stuck his tongue out and gagged when he felt spongy rectum. But he was insistent on getting this done — there was no sense in backing out now, after all — so he forced himself to stick it in.
Mr. Gregarian spread Tyrell’s cheeks, gingerly touching the firm meat. He wanted to watch Mark’s tongue sliding in and out. He gagged at the sight of it, then spat right on Mark’s face. His loogie was bitter and gritty, and it stuck to Tyrell’s ass.
Then Mark lost himself in that asshole. It was all he could see, hear, taste and smell — he was dimly aware of Tyrell complaining about Mr. Gregarian spitting on his ass, but Mark didn’t and couldn’t listen to any of that. Rancid ass and greasy hair filled his mouth. If he had eaten anything all day, he would have thrown it up, but he just painfully retched. He gagged continuously but told himself that it would all be worth it. He didn’t even notice Mr. Gregarian walk away, laughing at the raunchiness he had instigated.
“Alright, I bet you know what’s coming next. Drop your pants, deadbeat,” Tyrell said. “I’m gonna get in that ass. You ever been ramrodded?”
“No way!” Mark gasped as he pulled away from that hairy, cloying ass.
“Do I really gotta say it? You, deadbeat, you can get your money back — I’ll consider giving it back — if you let me wreck yo’ dumb whiteboy ass,” he said with a smirk.
“You had better do it!”
“Do you think I will?” Tyrell asked with a sigh. His massive dick throbbed as he stuck it between Mark’s cheeks. “Come on, answer the question, deadbeat. Do you think you’ll get your money back? Or do you think I’ll just turn you into my bitch and then leave you here in the trash? Huh? You really, truly think I’ll give you your money back?”
Mark couldn’t bring himself to say yes, because most of his mind knew the answer was no. It had always been no. But the part of his mind that was addicted to gambling was the part that was in control, so he just stayed there and wept while Tyrell laughed. If there was any chance that this would work, Mark was going to take it.
He was, after all, a gamblin’ man.
Then splitting pain erupted in his ass. Mark screamed but Tyrell held his hand over Mark’s mouth to muffle the sound. He had never felt anything like it, as though his entire body was being ripped asunder.
“Open that ass, bitch,” Tyrell murmured. He grabbed ahold of Mark’s thick hair and held his head in place.
He drilled his dick in deeply, his throbbing cock pushing in even as Mark’s ass tore and sent waves of pain up his body. He flailed uselessly, reaching behind himself to claw at Tyrell’s muscular body beneath his suit-shirt and jacket.
“Oh shit, another deadbeat, huh?” came another male voice. Mark looked behind himself to see a track employee, one of the bet-takers behind the window. He was a handsome young blond man, probably a college student, carrying a bag of garbage from the concession stand.
The pain in Mark’s ass was too intense to say anything, or even to feel embarrassment at being seen by yet another track employee. It hardly mattered now, did it — there was a security camera back here anyway. He bet Tyrell was going to upload this video to the Internet regardless. That thought made him sob, his back arching as more and more cockmeat rammed into him.
“This one’s really nasty,” Tyrell said with a loud grunt. The last of his dick slid into Mark’s straining guts. “He already licked my asshole.”
“Ah, that is fuckin’ disgusting!” He cackled up Mark’s face. “Let’s see how bad we can make it.” The worker dropped the bag of trash on the ground and ripped it open. It stank of rotting hot dogs and old relish, and the foul smell even got through the ass-stank that still stuck to Mark’s face.
“Make him lay on this, man,” the worker said with a snicker.
Tyrell laughed and did so. For a moment, Mark felt relief because his ass was empty, but Tyrell didn’t give him more than a second to enjoy it. He slammed Mark on his back on the open back of trash. Mark sank into the rotting food head-first, his ass in the air so Tyrell could slip his cock back into it.
The pain reawakened in his ass, now made worse by the smell of garbage all around him. Mark sobbed. He was now less confident that this was all worth it — what if, even if he got his money back, he didn’t win. He would be destitute tomorrow. He’d have to go to his family and say that he had lost everything, that they were right and he was wrong, he really was a gambling addict.
He sobbed so hard he didn’t notice the track employee taking his dick out and letting loose with a stream of piss. It flowed over Mark’s sputtering face, the acrid flavor making him gag all over again.
The blond employee snickered and walked away, muttering that he hated this job because of all the deadbeats. Mark blushed. He wanted to tell Tyrell that he was done, that he backed out, that it wasn’t worth it anymore.
But his agony and his shame were too great. All Mark could do was quiver and cry as that massive cock drilled into him over and over. His entire lower half was in the air, supported by Tyrell’s powerful arms so that his ass was available. Meanwhile Mark’s weight was on his head and neck, as though Tyrell was mid-piledriver, with his face deep in the racetrack garbage.
“Just you and me now, deadbeat. Just you and me for the grand finale,” Tyrell said. He closed his eyes and shuddered, his orgasm visible in the undulations of his muscles beneath his dark suit.
He realized it was done when he felt Tyrell’s balls crawl up in his sac. Tyrell groaned, and Mark cringed inwardly. This was it, Mark thought, he had officially allowed his gambling addiction to turn him into a mewling little bitch.
Cum flowed into him. It was a thick, hot load that seeped into his flesh. Mark felt it soaking into every inch of his body, trickling in the folds of his skin to coat him in filth and nastiness. He’d never feel clean again.
It didn’t seem like a normal amount, Mark thought, especially for someone who had just fucked earlier today. It felt like a hug wad, which he felt spreading within him and also dripping out and down his thighs and back, coating his entire underside.
“You ain’t done yet,” Tyrell said when he pulled out and intense relief flooded Mark. He sighed.
But Tyrell pulled him to his knees, and shoved his limp, ass-and-cum-covered cock into Mark’s mouth. The taste of santorum overwhelmed him, and he dry-heaved mouthloads of saliva all over Tyrell’s nasty cockshaft.
It was gritty and grimy. It tasted like the trash that covered this alley, and like farts and stale sweat and old jockstraps. It made Mark want to die at the thought that he was tasting his own ass-goo.
Finally that was it. Tyrell pulled his pants back up, tucking his limp dick away. He pushed Mark into the garbage on the ground.
“I’ve reconsidered,” Tyrell said. “And my answer, yet again, is no. Fuck you, deadbeat. Don’t come back here again until you make some money.” He straightened his tie and tucked his dick away.
Then he sauntered off, leaving Mark there in the garbage, crawling, struggling to get on his knees. He couldn’t stop gagging because of the assy flavor on his tongue, and the smell of trash in the air.
He was there on all fours for what felt like forever. At last he managed to make it to his feet and pull his pants up. He’d have to go back to his parents. That was the only thing that made sense. Mom would make it all better. Every step caused arduous pain in his ass, so wasn’t even sure he could make it all the way home.
But there was a piece of paper on the ground. It had been in the trash. It was not like the other kitchen trash that the blond guy had dropped back here. It was a printout of an email.
He read the email and smiled. There was a horse racing tomorrow whose jockey had been replaced at the last minute, from a no-name loser jockey to one of the most well-known athletes in the field today. With this more experienced jockey riding him, Mark thought, the horse was sure to win, and since no other bettors knew that, Mark would be trading based on better information than them. That gave him a marked advantage.
He still had doubts about placing the bet until he saw the horse’s name. It was called Loser’s Revenge.
That cinched it for Mark. Fate was telling him something, and he wasn’t going to ignore it. It was time, he decided, to bet it all on a pony.
He just needed to find a way to drum up some cash before the races started again tomorrow.
Rob Winthrop invites a hundred big black thugs with big black meat to give him a big black experience! This is a once-in-a-lifetime no-holes-barred event he’ll never forget!
Read the whole thing here!
Rob Winthrop started getting nervous as he always did, when the guys filed in one by one to what Rob had called a “physique appreciation event”. A raucous pit of butterflies fluttered in his belly as the convention center filled up with men. There were a hundred of them, all swaggering thugs who concealed their own anxiety as well — Rob could sense it in the way they avoided eye contact with anyone and shuffled forward in line. They each carried with them the appropriate paperwork.
101 happened to be the fire marshall’s stated capacity for the convention hall, so it was packed tight with no room to spare, especially since part of the room was set off with a large table for them place their clothes on. When Rob instructed them to remove their clothing and get ready, they grumbled.
“Yo, when we gettin’ paid?”
“You best not stiff us, whiteman!”
Rob held up his hands for silence, his heart thumping. He had specifically sought actual thugs, not just thug-acting men — everyone here had a criminal record. There were robbers, muggers, home-invaders, drug dealers, pimps and even two convicted murderers. “No worries, no worries, I will pay all of you. I’ve got the first hundred dollars right here, you can take it when you get started. You understand the rules, right?”
“Yessuh!”
“We do it, fo’ real, man, don’t worry ‘bout that. I ‘xpect to get paid, mothafuckah.” They all laughed and slapped hands with each other.
“I’mma do this propuh, nigga!”
“Wreck that whitey!”
Rob grinned. They were enthusiastic again, and they started to take off their clothes. He re-explained the rules just in case they had forgotten. They were each required to ram him, ideally in both the mouth and ass, though a few had refused that and Rob allowed it anyway. Most of them agreed to do whatever else he wanted short of him penetrating them. They got a hundred dollars no matter what. But if the whole group — which included members of several rival gangs — succeeded in remaining peaceful the entire time, they’d each be paid a thousand dollars instead.
This would not be the first time Rob had paid more than a hundred grand for one physique appreciation event. He had plenty of money from the family business and his trust fund. He couldn’t imagine anything he’d rather spend his fortune on than this. His smooth twink body gleamed in the harsh light of the hotel convention hall, and he kept his hips angled to give a feminine curve to his body.
“Yo, whiteman, we gonna destroy dat ass! You know dat, right?”
“You ain’t gonna walk fo’ a week, man!”
Rob smiled. “That’s the plan, gentlemen.” He chuckled, and they all laughed, their deep and gravelly voices ringing out in the convention hall. The smell of bare balls and even a few drops of precum filled the air — someone must have been real horny, Rob thought, or just loved gangbangs so much he was already hard. A scent of malt liquor was noticeable too, suggesting a few of them had gotten drunk before coming in.
The person who got fully naked first was named Nathaniel Simpel, but he went by the name ‘Truck’. He was eager to get naked because he felt confident that he would have the biggest dick here and, he thought to himself, being the biggest-dicked-nigga at a hundred-man gangbang was really something to be proud of.
So he made sure to get undressed first. Then Truck turned around, standing next to Rob and waving his fat cock between his fingers — that way all the other thugs could see his gigantic meat, which swung between his legs and reached almost all the way to his knees. The chains around his neck jangled like Mr. T. He stayed like that, dick out where every nigga here gotta see it, as he thwacked it back and forth between his thighs.
“Yo, fo’ a thousand dollars,” Truck said, “I can guarantee we gonna stay peaceful long enough to bust a nut.” He laughed, a deep, booming barrel laugh that forced his shoulders back and his hips forward, flapping his fourteen-inch hog towards the other thugs.
Rob handed over the initial payment of a hundred dollars before he grabbed Truck’s fat cock. He gave it a long stroke, and Truck sighed in a highly exaggerated way, prompting laughs from the other men.
“Damn, nigga…”
“He into that, Truck is like that…”
Truck bristled and sucked on his teeth. They all looked at his cock, and a lot of them were hesitant to get naked now. Truck didn’t know that Rob had ensured all one hundred men were of appropriate quality — many of them were used to being the biggest man in any room, so seeing Truck’s legendary meat made them nervous, but everyone there had at least a foot of cock. That was another of Rob’s rules.
“Smells like ballsweat in here.”
“He playin’ wit’ that nigga dick.”
“Can you back up, nigga? Yo’ dick is touchin’ my leg…” There was some grumbling from the men now that they were naked. They were crammed in so close together that they were all over each other, limp cocks and hard muscles rubbing against each other as they pushed in closer to watch the action.
“You scared of my big meat touchin’ ya, huh? Don’t worry, he don’t bite. He treat you right if you just bend over, nigguh…”
“I swear to god, nigga, if you touch my dick one more time, I will lay you out!”
“Hey! No fightin’! All you niggas shut the fuck up. We all crammed into a li’l place, we all gonna be touching each other’s dicks. We all know that was gonna happen. Just chill out. None of us here is gonna ramrod no nigga. We ain’t in prison…” There was some tittering laughter, but aside from some grumbling here and there, the arguments more or less stopped.
Opening his mouth to tease the tip, Rob started slurping on the knob of Truck’s dick. It was veiny and so thick it felt like a muscle of its own beneath Rob’s fingers. He licked it and blushed as the watchings thugs whooped and laughed.
“He doin’ it! He handles dick like a slut too…”
“Shiiiiiiit!”
“That honky do it right!”
Rob reached out for another dick, grabbing a long, uncircumcised one. That was Rupert, the only Jamaican out of the one hundred — Rob loved Jamaican mandingos, but it was rare to find one who would ram him.
“Aw, mon…”
Rupert was as reluctant as any Jamaican, but he was desperate for money. He had grown up among American black men, who frequently boasted they didn’t mind being serviced by men, especially for money. So he was possibly the most nervous person here — none of these men would lose their reputations if word got out what they were doing, but Rupert would. He needed to repay some loans, though, so he had little choice. He sneered and looked away — Rob wasn’t even jerking him off yet. He simply thwacked Rupert’s dick against his face and made him joust with Truck. He suckled on both tips, licking both piss-slits.
When Rupert felt precum slide down his cockshaft, he gagged again. His dick was getting hard, which shocked him. He had wondered if he’d be able to perform, but now he had gotten an erection without even sticking his dick in any hole — this boner came from the friction of his dickshaft rubbing against Truck’s cock.
“Yoh buddy come like a… wet sponge, mon,” Rupert said, making some of the other men laugh. It did feel like a very wet sponge, he thought, with just a little give and plenty of moisture collecting on the surface.
Rob sensed that both Rupert and Truck were nervous about jousting. They both jumped when their cocks first collided, but both bristled with machismo. Neither wanted to admit they were self-conscious about it. Rupert especially didn’t want to draw attention to the fact that Truck’s cock was bigger than his or that Truck himself was thicker-bodied and visibly more muscular than Rupert’s lean frame. He closed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest — it was easier when he didn’t have to see Rob suck on him like a sissy boy.
As Rob moved on from playing with both of those dicks to actually sucking on each one in turn, he felt thick, callused fingers lifting his ass into the air. A few of the thugs had said they didn’t want to ram Rob in the ass — Rob normally didn’t allow that; he could find enough men willing to hit him at both ends that he didn’t need to compromise — but in the end Rob had made some exceptions.
Luckily for him, one thug in particular was Samson Miles, who loved ass no matter who he had to ram. He was a middle-aged and massive, broad-shouldered thug with dark brown skin, a thick mustache and a deep, booming voice. He was grizzled like a shaved bear, with a deep and penetrating stare. Rob had found him as he walked out of prison a few days ago.
“Gonna plow you like a fuckin’ ox,” Samson said, laughing at himself. He was one of the few men besides Rob who got that “plow” and “ox” was wordplay, as he spent his incarceration reading, instead of chasing honeybuns and twink butt. His dick — just as long as Truck but not quite as thick — was already hard, and he guided it in without compunctions. He had been eager to get started. “See, nigga? This is how you do it! This is how you do it!”
In Samson’s eyes, he directed his words at Rico, a young prettyboy who been complaining about Samson’s jacking off — he was briefly in prison alongside Samson and was released yesterday with him. Rico was too nervous to pay much attention though, so he didn’t even realize Samson directed his words Rico’s way. At the state prison, most men messed with a few times, and Rico was no exception. But most of them had the decency to be ashamed of it. They didn’t bring it up, and they didn’t do it in public. They did it in hidden shadowy corners, or they set up a sheet as a curtain in their cell before getting started.
Samson, however, had never had any reluctance at all. He loved booty, and he didn’t really care whose ass he stuck his meat in. He slammed his dick into Rob’s ass, making a game of it as he tried to thrust so hard Rob couldn’t concentrate on the cock in his mouth. All Rob could do was keep his mouth open and let each nigga take a few turns on his throat.
“You like me in yo’ ass, sissy? Huh? I bet you do. I feel you, boy. I feel you good. I know you tryin’-a get my nut. Don’t you worry, boy, I won’t deny you dat. No way. Ol’ Samson gonna fill you up like a whore. You wanna be Samson’s whore? Course you do, boy. E’ry sissy wanna be my cumdump.”
Samson also didn’t see any reason to hold back from cumming. He had barely gotten started before he felt his orgasm approaching, and he wasn’t about to slow down — after all, if he didn’t cum now, he would have to do it after some other guys did. Samson didn’t mind having sloppy-seconds, or even tenths or whatever, but he would rather be the one who makes the seconds sloppy.
“Gonna make you real sloppy, sissy. Real sloppy.”
So when he came, he grabbed ahold of Rob’s hair, lifting his head up. Rob flailed and gripped tattooed brown muscles all around him, but the sensations were too intense for him to stroke. It was all he could do to moan and groan while Samson’s thick body rippled against Rob’s smooth back.
Cum sprayed into Rob’s ass, at the same time that someone else finally finished on Rob’s face. So he savored the flavor as his mouth filled up, and cum flowed into his ass. It tasted thick and buttery, its heat seeping into his skin. Since he couldn’t concentrate, Rob didn’t swallow. Semen dripped out past his lips and coated his cheeks and chin.
“Ah, damn, now we gettin’ into it. We broke the cumdump in…”
Samson was just as nasty — he laughed as the other niggas told him to stop, to let them take a turn. Someone even tapped him lightly on the ass, his plump cheeks jiggling, like he was a tag-team wrestler whose partner wanted in.
But Samson didn’t want to give up his turn yet. He wanted to leave his mark. His deep, booming laughter echoed as he kept on humping his now-limp dick in Rob’s tender ass. That had the effect of making his load into a big frothy mess. It trickled out of Rob’s hole through the sides of Samson’s dick, and then when he finally pulled out, huge bubbling clumps of cum flowed out. It coated Rob’s asscrack in Samson’s creamy seed.
“There, niggas. Them seconds is real sloppy,” Samson said, laughing as the others groaned in disgust.
Someone else finished on Rob’s face. Now that his ass was empty again — however briefly — Rob managed to swallow it deep. He savored the cummy flavor flowing over his tongue, and he let most of it drip out past his lips to make a bigger mess on his face.
The second man in his ass must have been stroking himself off hard, Rob thought, because he came right away. Another thug pushed nakedly through the crowd, his erect cock throbbing. “Outta my way, niggas, outta my way, I’m gonna blow-” and he didn’t quite make it in time. The first wad of his nut hit another thug on the thigh, but the rest made it onto Rob’s face, where is smeared over the trio of cocks there at the moment.
“You nutted on my leg, nigga!” someone roared.
A fight nearly broke out. There was some confusion about who had cum on whom — or maybe several people had accidentally done the same thing, Rob couldn’t even tell how many loads he had taken yet.
“Yo, no fightin’!”
“If you make us lose this thousand dollars, nigga… I swear to God!”
“What?! Try somethin’, nigga!”
But the older and cooler heads among them prevailed. It helped that all of the gangs represented here had a few leaders who could provide order and ensure peace, and Rob had promised those leaders an extra thousand dollars — to be disbursed later, when no one else was around — if they made sure the gangbang went smoothly.
Rob was surprised at how quickly they reached orgasm as they went, and how many of them came mainly from masturbating. A lot of them must have been watching intently and getting hard even though there were no women around — and Rob had forbidden porn from the scene.
Two thugs came at the same time in his mouth, the salty-sweet flavor of their cum distracting him from his thoughts. Rob guzzled it all down but made sure to play with both dicks too, so a lot of that cum covered their shafts before he sucked it back into his mouth. Those two thugs were Gariah and Bammy, a pair of identical twins. They specialized in gangbanging girls, just the two of them, and cumming simultaneously — they had initially tried it on a dare (and had been unsuccessful at timing it on that first occasion), but now managed to do it with every girlfriend either one had.
“Damn, simultaneous nuts! That was impressive, niggas.”
The pain in his ass went away as another fat cock slipped in his ass. The stout, tattooed thug who did that — Uggs was what he went by — groaned in disgust as cum leaked out and coated his dick and fingers. But it didn’t slow him down at all, and the cum probably helped, Rob thought, because it was an effective lube.
As Uggs approached his own orgasm, a thug named Sharnell appeared suddenly. He tried to ram his dick in as though Rob might get double-penetrated, but both dicks were way too big for that. So he just jabbed his cock in the direction of Rob’s ass, spraying his sudden cumload onto Ham’s cock.
“Oh, nigga! Why the fuck would you do that?”
“I dunno, man,” Sharnell said with a sheepish chuckle. “I wanted to cum in his ass and… I guess I got… y’know, confused…”
“You thought my dick was his asshole?” Uggs asked to assorted laughter. It looked like he was about to add something else, but he groaned and his eyes fluttered. He sprayed his own load into Rob’s guts, pulling out and letting another thug — Delroy — plump right in before Rob’s asshole had a chance to relax.
“Ugh, sloppy fifty-thirds…?”
“Somethin’ like that, at least fifty! How’s that feel? Huh, nigga? Yo’ dick be swimmin’ in cum!”
Delroy groaned like he was disgusted, but it didn’t slow him down any. “Don’t care, nigga, I love booty!” He play-kissed the air and laughed, as he plunged his cock into Rob’s moist, meaty goodness, and he laughed nervously when a great ball of filthy cum splashed up onto his ballsack.
Then another thug got involved — at first it looked as though he and Delroy might argue over Rob’s ass. But then they decided to take turns. Delroy mounted Rob from up high, while the other thug kneeled behind him. They each pushed their dick in once, then watched the other do so, frothing up all those loads and laughing at the mess they made.
Finally the both of them finished, spraying their loads onto Rob’s asshole just as a third nigga came out of nowhere to do the same. They all clasped hands and cheered each other on, no longer bothering to try to avoid splashback from each other’s loads. The prissiest men had cum first, probably, and a handful had simply jacked themselves off and cum on Rob — disappointing, but Rob wasn’t expecting them all to actually follow through. If all one hundred men took five minutes each, Rob would have to spend more than eight hours on this, and not even Rob’s ass could take that much punishment.
“Damn, let’s make this sissy the nastiest! Lookit that! I ain’t nevuh seen no female get this nasty!”
A lot of the finished guys held their clothes in their hands. They had all wanted to get dressed, but the first few niggas to finish stayed naked, watching intently, and the others just wanted to fit in. Nobody wanted to be the one who was so self-conscious he couldn’t handle being naked among the others.
They crammed in close to watch as the last few thugs finished cumming all over Rob. Their cocks rubbed against each other, leaving behind a residue of anal juices, cum and saliva. About half of them didn’t notice the dickmeat brushing up against each other, and the other half could think of nothing else.
Rob barely even noticed the final man approach. He was Tyrell, and he went last because he had bragged that he could. He didn’t meant to actually say he wanted to — what had happened was simply that he boasted how much of a horny mandingo he was, and the others had taken that at face value. Tyrell said he would ram anyone, in any hole, anytime, because he was a “real nigga” and “real niggas blow loads!”
When the others had teased him about going last, Tyrell instinctively agreed without thinking about it. That was not the first time he had mistakenly agreed to something due to his bravado, but, he thought as he approached Rob’s ass, this might be the worst time.
“Splash in!”
“Sloppy seventy-sevenths, nigga!!”
Tyrell bit his lip and slipped his cock in. When he was in prison last year, he had ramrodded a man several times. He had sloppy seconds once, and it was revolting. The other inmates teased him when he backed out and made the bottom wash up first, so Tyrell had changed his mind and slammed his meat into Rob’s ass so quickly that a big bubble of frothy cum had come up and popped. That had covered Tyrell’s crotch in sticky-white cum. He gagged then, but the other inmates clasped him on the back and encouraged him. ‘That’s how we do in this cell, baby! We get nasty!’ Tyrell had been proud of himself then. He even bragged about it to his father when he came for a visit, though his dad had smacked Tyrell in the face and told him “real niggas get nasty behind bars, but they don’t tell no one about it. What happens in there, stays in there.”
Tyrell gagged again at the feel of sticky cum dripping over his cock like alien goop. He was half-hard, hard enough he should be able to stick it in Rob’s ass, but he was nervous about touching so much cum. He didn’t know how many niggas had cum inside Rob, but it was at least fifty, probably more.
He tried to avoid using his hands, but his dick was not hard enough to just ram it in. He gingerly touched Rob’s cum-dripping asscheeks to pull them apart. There was so much cum there it was a bubbling out, no doubt making little fart-like noises though no one could hear that over the sound of niggas cheering.
“Get nasty, Tyrell!”
He took a deep breath and used his hand to guide it in. He gagged again but covered it up with a cough so no one knew how nervous he was. He prayed that he wouldn’t lose his erection. He couldn’t believe that he had agreed to go last — why didn’t he realize how gross this would be at the time? Of course the last nigga in a hundred-man slamfest was gonna get a nasty, loose asshole.
And it was loose. If it weren’t for the clumps of cum, Tyrell might have barely even felt the sides of Rob’s asshole. But as it was, he was just horny enough to stay hard as he forced his dick in. Great gobs of cum dripped from his fingers.
“Ah, shit, nigga, that is the most disgusting thing I evuh seen!”
Tyrell cheered. He liked hearing men clap and hoot at him. He knew they were teasing him, but he had always found that the best way to get past that was to pretend you loved whatever they teased you about. He grinned and growled. He even pounded on his chest, making his muscles jiggle as his hands dripped semen all over his dark brown flesh.
Finally, when he was on the verge of cumming, Tyrell groaned. He yelped as Rob pulled away from him, and his cock was temporarily visible to everyone — he had a big, brown veiny shaft that no one could see because it was coated in santorum. Dingy white cum, its pearlescence obviated by the anal juices mixed in, dripped off and onto the ground as his dick vibrated.
“Ah, shit, lookit that nasty meat!”
“That is one slutty sissy!”
Tyrell’s dick was only bare for a half a second or so, but that was enough time for everyone to see it. Tyrell himself gagged at the sight of his own meat soaked in other niggas’s cum. Seconds later, Rob turned around and licked a clean stripe on the underside of Tyrell’s dick.
The taste of ass-and-cum overwhelmed Rob’s senses. He groaned and moaned, letting out such a cringingly potent sound that everyone fell silent as they watched. The thugs leaned in, coming closer together, so everyone’s bare crotches and sweaty, gleaming muscles rubbed against each other.
“Ah shit, a champion slut for the ages!”
“You should teach my whores how to be this nasty, boy. You could give lessons and shit…”
“Ass-to-mouth! Ass-to-mouth!”
Rob licked every inch of Tyrell’s incredible meat. It tasted so bad and so good at the same time that Rob wished he had made them all do ass-to-mouth. He deep-throated that assy cock as he felt Tyrell’s balls crawl up in his sac.
After getting ninety-nine loads all over his body, Rob wanted to swallow this one. He moaned and gripped Tyrell’s asscheeks so tightly Tyrell couldn’t pull away if he wanted to. Tyrell’s massive dick throbbing in Rob’s throat before he finally shot his load.
His dick was aimed right down Rob’s gullet, so Rob didn’t taste any of that cum at first — he still tasted all the other cum that stuck to Tyrell’s cockshaft, but the actual fresh load was spurted too deep down his throat to taste it. Instead he felt it flow into his stomach, settling into a tight, warm, savory ball of lust deep in his belly.
“Oh, yeah, whiteboy, that is the way to do it…” Tyrell said with a moan, forgetting his anxiety about getting so much cum all over his body.
He kept on spraying. He leaned his head back and smiled at his fellow thugs as he finally finished, leaving his limp dick in place until every last drop was in Rob’s stomach. Then he pulled out, and Rob gagged again as that shiny shaft plopped out of his mouth.
“Hell yeah, nigga! You got him good!”
“Where’s our money? Huh, sissy?! We ain’t fight! We did what we s’sposed to,” someone shouted indignantly. Rob couldn’t see who that was, but whoever it was sounded annoyed that Rob hadn’t already given out the thousand dollars.
“Relax, relax,” Rob said, holding hands up for silence. “I haven’t even finished swallowing yet, chill out. I’ve got a thousand dollars for each of you. Why don’t you get dressed and form a line right here?” He leaned back and sighed.
They cheered and clapped their hands, waving their bare cocks in his direction. When this began, it was obvious who was in which gang because they clustered together. But now, that was no longer the case. They had seemingly forgotten about their differences and were lining up. They didn’t even notice that Rob had told them to get dressed first. Most of them were in line already, still stark naked.
That was fine with Rob, who stretched as he stood on his sore knees. Everywhere he looked were naked thugs, and he was already wondering if he could get any more action out of them.
He decided not to do that because it would take too long. He paid them with an app, of course, as he was definitely not bringing a hundred grand in cash to this event. As his phone whirred and worked, each thug had stand there while Rob paid him using one hand, his other hand caressing their muscles and their limp dicks.
All in all, it took nearly two hours to pay them all off, and by the time he was done, Rob was just about ready to go again. He smiled and leaned back in his chair.
Maybe I’ll do rednecks next, Rob thought. He had passed a trailer park on the way into Detroit, and that had looked promising. But first he wanted to simply sit back and finish basking in his post-orgasm glow.
And then he’d head over to the trailer park to get started.
Ramon is a flamboyant twink behind bars, but his release is coming up soon. That’s when a guard brings him a special visitor… Barrack Zales is a new prison guard caught smuggling in drugs, which means he’s in for a special punishment.
This is a punishment that Ramon is gonna enjoy doling out!
Read the whole thing here!
The night before Ramon’s release date, he couldn’t sleep. He had been dreaming of this day for what felt like a lifetime. He tossed and turned. It was the worst night in the state prison since his very first, when Ramon wept and trembled in fear until dawn.
Now he thought he should feel good about his imminent release, and a part of him certainly did. But a part of him also wept and trembled in fear until dawn yet again. He didn’t know what he was going to do when he walked out those doors. He didn’t have a plan, aside from the vague boilerplate “integration plan” he had come up with during his legally-mandated meetings with a parole officer.
When the first rays of sunlight came through the tiny window in one corner of his cell, Ramon’s heart skipped a beat. He got up and paced since he couldn’t sleep anyway. He could only walk three feet back and forth in his cell, so it his pacing was subpar, but that was the best that could be managed in his rinky-dink prison cell.
Footsteps echoed in the silent corridor of the protective-custody cell block. There were three guards — including Officer Uglymug — escorting another uniformed guard that Ramon didn’t recognize. The other guard appeared to be new, with a clean uniform and an unfaded ID badge, polished black boots and an insecure swagger.
Was he under arrest? His hands were behind his back as though handcuffed, but Ramon couldn’t see whether they were.
Ramon’s anxiety about his imminent release diminished as he tried to figure out what was happening. Newly-hired guards sometimes thought they could smuggle drugs in and sell it to the inmates easily, since that happened in the movies all the time. But the state prison had ways of preventing that, and it was common for new guards to work a day or two and then be seen leaving the prison in handcuffs (they never served a sentence here).
Officer Uglymug opened the door to Ramon’s cell. He smiled broadly. “You are one lucky sissy, Mister Mercado,” he said. “Meet Barrack Zales, a former guard here.”
Barrack smiled wanly at Ramon. “Congratulations on your release,” Barrack said. His voice was deep and gruff, and he sounded confident, but it was a faux confidence, like he really was insecure but tried to hide it.
“Thanks, Officer Zales,” Ramon said.
“Don’t call him that,” murmured Uglymug. “He ain’t an officer.”
“Oh… Okay, well, then, Barrack,” Ramon said. He stuck his hand out to shake, but Barrack was handcuffed, so all he could do was nod back.
“Barrack here thought he could smuggle heroin into my prison,” Officer Uglymug said. “He wanted to get inmates like you addicted so he could profit off you-“
“That ain’t what I was planning!”
“Oh? What was your plan again?”
“I was… I mean… I wasn’t gettin’ no one addicted,” he said. “I was just gonna sell…”
“You were going to sell drugs at inflated prices to people who would otherwise be in rehab, but aren’t since they get drugs from you,” Officer Uglymug said. “Can you explain the morality of that to me? It sure sounds-“
“Okay, we’ve been over this, man. I’m doing what you want,” Barrack said. He rolled his eyes.
Officer Uglymug stared daggers at Barrack until the silence was so thick it could be stabbed with a shiv. Then he turned back to Ramon and smiled again. “But we decided to spare the taxpayers the expense of a trial. We think you can, uh… well, insert the law into Zales through the asshole, and I figured that’d be a good going-away present for you too.”
Another long silence filled the cell. Ramon cleared his throat. “So… you want me to cornhole him? Instead of being arrested, he gets it up the ass from me?”
Barrack flared his nostrils. “I’ll do whatever you want, man.” He flexed his biceps the best he could with his wrists handcuffed behind his back, and his big bear-like pecs jiggled beneath his uniform shirt. “I don’t care.” Despite his words, it sounded like he did care very much. He looked nervous and vaguely ill. He ignored it as Uglymug undid the buttons of his uniform shirt, which couldn’t come off without removing the handcuffs, but Uglymug let the shirt fall off his shoulders behind his back.
Ramon sighed. “Hell yeah, come on in, Barrack. I’ll do you so good you decide to go to prison for fun.”
Officer Uglymug laughed, but Barrack bristled and rolled his eyes, staying put until Uglymug shoved him forward. The Uglymug closed the door behind him. He remained outside Ramon’s cell though, watching through the cell bars.
“Can I get the handcuffs off?”
“No,” Uglymug said. He stood there with his arms folded over his chest once again.
Barrack straightened his back, towering over Ramon. He struggled against the handcuffs on his wrists, muscles bulging as though he was seriously trying to tear the handcuffs apart with his raw strength.
“Well, I guess… Why don’t we get started?” Ramon said. He pulled down the fly of Barrack’s uniform slacks and removed his throbbing slab of thick dickmeat.
One “good” (relatively speaking) part of coming to the state prison was that Ramon got to show off his substantial dick. Everyone assumed that since he was a little man, he had a small cock, and Ramon was glad to prove them wrong. It had been enough to make him into a celebrity on his first day. The Aryans called him the “Mexican wit’ a big prick”.
Now Barrack sighed and shook his head when he saw it. He looked away, and he gulped.
The tension in the cell remained thick, as Ramon gently picked up Barrack’s meaty member. He swayed it back and forth in his hand. It was thick and juicy, and it made Ramon lick his lips. Then Ramon walloped Barrack’s dick with his own, and they sword-fought there — well, Ramon did, Barrack stayed still like a stone statue, wrinkling his nose, keeping his chin high, like he was pretending not to notice Ramon smashed both limp cocks together. Ramon liked the feel of Barrack’s fat limpness rubbing against his own, leaving a layer of masculine sweat and grime. The tension in the cell diminished, replaced by a comfortable arousal. Ramon’s hands roamed all over Barrack’s body.
When he got to Barrack’s nipples, he tweaked one, then the other, then both, and Barrack twitched. His pecs rippled. Barrack bucked, and Uglymug laughed out loud.
“You seriously uncomfortable with that shit, huh? You were never gonna like workin’ here,” Officer Uglymug said with a big grin on his face. “Can’t be squeamish if you gonna be a prison guard.”
Ramon kept jousting with Barrack, who faced away from him, his body stiff but tense. Ramon’s cock was firming up, so their jousting turned rapidly from dickfat jiggling together to Ramon stabbing his erection into Barrack’s soft cock and trimmed pubes. Barrack wrinkled his nose.
“Get on your knees,” Ramon said, then added, “Bitch!” Uglymug reacted with thunderous applause.
Barrack sneered and lunged like he was going to punch Ramon, but his arms were still handcuffed, so Ramon held firm. He didn’t flinch. Barrach growled.
“Get on your knees,” Ramon said again.
Barrack gritted his teeth and sunk to the ground on his knees. His eyes narrowed into slits aimed up at Ramon.
He was still much too tall to swallow Ramon’s dick like that. Ramon stood there with his hands on his hips. Even on his knees, Barrack’s face was even with Ramon’s bellybutton. Ramon rubbed his erect dick between Barrack’s massive pectoral muscles. Barrack ignored it.
“Ya gettin’ titty-humped, nigga,” Officer Uglymug said. “I think you’re gonna have to go lower than that to swallow his dick.”
“Take your time though,” Ramon said with a smirk. He really meant that, he was enjoying humping Barrack’s muscles. He wasn’t gonna cum like that, but Ramon was in no hurry. Anything to distract from the stress of his imminent relase was worth it. His dick rubbed on Barrack’s sternum, which made his pecs ripple, so Ramon switched to thwacked his erection on the meat of Barrack’s muscle.
Barrack scowled but did open his mouth. He stooped over and took Ramon’s stiff dick past his lips. He gagged loudly, and spit choked down Ramon’s shaft, which he spat out. There was something defiant in his gag, like he was proving that he couldn’t do this.
Little did he know — or maybe he did know — that a gag wasn’t gonna stop Ramon Mercado. Gagging made Barrack’s muscles flex, and it sent a squeezing shiver of pleasure up Ramon’s spine. He smiled.
When Barrack had regained his composure, Ramon rammed his dick in, laughing as Barrack sputtered, eyes opening wide. Ramon’s cock throbbed in his throat, and since he was handcuffed, with his arms behind his back, he could do nothing but submit while Ramon drilled into him.
“Yeah, make him choke!”
“Hmmm…” Ramon gripped Barrack by the head and pushed his dick in, not throating him down like a lot of men in this prison do — Ramon had found his mouth was in strong demand during his time here — but more making love to his throat, humping his tongue, and making sure Barrack tasted Ramon’s cock with every inch of his mouth.
“Gag him! Gag him! Gag him!” Uglymug chanted
The tightness of Barrack’s throat was exhilarating. Every time he gagged on Ramon’s cock, it sent a wave of pleasure through Ramon’s body. He moaned and blushed at how intense his reactions were. He hadn’t topped anyone since well before coming to this prison, so it was nice to experience a hot mouth on his cock again, even if it was unwilling.
Copious spit leaked out his mouth, as Barrack was unable or unwilling to swallow anything. He drooled up on Ramon’s shaft, his whole body buckling when he gagged. Ramon was gentle now that he was getting into it, forcing — gently — oh so gently — his cock down Barrack’s throat. When he did it slow enough, Barrack was unable to spit it out, as he could only retch.
Ramon was in charge of his gullet though. He forced his cock down there then held it in place, as he played with Barrack’s face and head. He had handsome features, big ones too, Barrack was a large man with a big head and big everything on it. Ramon’s petite hands played with his nose, his cheekbones, his chin, his ears, and Barrack glowered and simmered, erupting in a furious choke every few seconds.
At last, Ramon pulled his cock outta Barrack’s mouth, quickly lest he bust his nut. He did not want to finish this until he had gotten up Barrack’s behind.
“Lay down on your back, here on the bunk,” Ramon said. He blushed as he pointed to his bunk.
When Barrack hesitated, Ramon frowned. Officer Uglymug pulled out his cattle prod, which made Barrack roll his eyes and shake. He struggled to fit his broad body into the bunk. He was too tall, so his feet had to curl up so that his head could rest over the edge, and it was difficult to balance himself with his hands still cuffed behind his back.
“Up like this, so I can really get deep in that throat,” Ramon said. He lightly tapped Barrack’s cheeks, then leaned down and kissed him on the lips. Barrack had nice, full lips and a big tongue, which lay in his mouth like a dead fish. He didn’t kiss Ramon back. He just stayed limp as Ramon explored his mouth.
When his burgeoning orgasm had died down, Ramon placed his spit-dripping cock right at the entrance to Barrack’s mouth. Barrack’s lower lip quivered — it was his upper lip at the moment, because his head dangled upside-down over the end of the bed — as Ramon wiped precum off on his handsome face.
His chin and cheeks were smoothly shaved. Ramon slid his dick over the man’s face until Barrack’s entire face glistened with pearly white pre-cum. He gagged every few seconds even when Ramon pulled his dick away, as the smell of precum had seeped into his skin. Ramon thwacked his erection on Barrack’s nose.
There was a symbol of three claws tattooed onto Barrack’s neck. Ramon rubbed them with one thumb as he played with the precum on Barrack’s face.
“What’s the significance of this tattoo?”
Barrack bit his lip. “It’s a gangsta thing. You wouldn’t understand.”
“You’re a gangsta?!” Officer Uglymug barked angrily. “What? Why did they even hire you? You got a fuckin’ neck tattoo…”
“Fuck you, Uglymug.”
“Shut up, you don’t get to call me that,” Uglymug said.
“You fuckin’ bitch-ass-!” Barrack’s shouts were muffled moments later by Ramon’s balls, which dropped right into Barrack’s mouth. They were sensitive, and his mouth sent tingles of sensation up Ramon’s body, but Ramon did so mainly to shut him up. He didn’t want this to turn into a fight between Barrack and Uglymug. Ramon could end up blueballed.
Instantly Barrack gagged on the sweaty ballflesh coating his tongue and slipping into his throat. His mouth quivered and the fluids pooled there, a mixture of Barrack’s and Ramon’s bodily secretions filling up Barrack’s mouth. Barrack’s mouth filled and overflowed with drool and ballsweat, as all his muscles flexed when he struggled not to retch. Ramon’s balls filled his mouth and tickled his throat.
“Gargle, motherfucker,” Ramon said. He had to repeat himself as Officer Uglymug turned the cattle prod on again before Barrack did so.
He wasn’t able to gargle in any meaningful sense, because as soon as he moved his tongue at all, he gagged profusely. He spat up a giant ball of spit that landed on the uniform pants he still wore. Ramon wiped up all the saliva he could with one hand and smeared it over Barrack’s face.
“You are one nasty shit,” Officer Uglymug said, as though he was both impressed and sympathetic to Barrack’s struggle.
“Open your mouth wider,” Ramon said. He demonstrated an open mouth. Barrack had a large mouth by nature, but Ramon thought he could do better. “Open that mouth, bitch.”
Barrack looked away, then scrunched his eyes shut.
“Nah. Look me in the eye like the bitch you are,” Ramon said. He was petite, even effeminate, so he knew he sounded ridiculous calling someone else a bitch. But that was what made it so humiliating for Barrack.
“Shut up,” Barrack muttered, his voice weak cuz he was struggling not to gag. He closed his eyes and opened his mouth wide.
“Let’s see how this does,” Ramon said. He pushed his dick in slowly, dragging it out so Barrack tasted every drop of salty precum on his tongue. Barrack held out until his nose nestled into Ramon’s crotch. His throat squeezed around Ramon’s shaft. But Ramon was relentless — he had been a bottom in prison for years, so he knew a lot of tricks to force someone into deep-throating a huge cock.
“That was pretty good deep-throating,” Ramon said, as he let his erection slide out so Barrack could take a breath. “You’re learning… Good job.”
“You fuckin’ pansy!” Barrack screamed.
“That was rude,” Ramon said with a laugh. “I’ll give you a choice for this next part. Do you want to lick my ass? Or would you rather drink some piss?”
“Fuck you!”
“Both? Really? Officer Uglymug, did he really say he wanted to both lick asshole and drink piss?”
“That’s what I heard. He said, ‘I love licking prostates, almost as much as I love drinking urine.’ I heard him say that,” Officer Uglymug said with a chuckle. “Thought it was weird, but you know… I don’t like to judge.”
“That was a really good impression, Officer Uglymug. Sounded exactly like him,” Ramon said. He paused. “Maybe you can help with this. My dick is hard, and I’m not sure I can piss.”
“I’d be glad to assist, inmate,” Uglymug said. He pulled out his thick cock, and he left it dangling out the fly of his uniform slacks.
“Stick your tongue out, bitch,” Ramon said. When Barrack didn’t immediately comply, Ramon grabbed his tongue with his fingers and pulled. He had a notably long tongue, at least two inches sticking well out of his mouth. Ramon shuddered with anticipation. He had never gotten a rimjob like this. “Keep your tongue out. Remember when folks say you gotta lick ass, that isn’t really what they mean. You gotta stick your tongue inside my ass and lick the insides. Not the asscheek. There’s no point to licking an asscheek. Got that?”
Barrack wiped away tears from his eyes. “Please! I-“
“That was a yes or no question. Do you understand?”
“Yes!”
“Good. Keep that tongue out. Move it around,” Ramon said. He faced his pale, smooth ass at Barrack’s face. “Move your tongue around.” He laughed as Barrack wiggled his tongue. Then Ramon planted his ass on Barrack’s face.
Barrack bucked and screamed into Ramon’s asshole. His tongue flickered away at first, then gingerly touched Ramon’s hole. He gagged as Ramon’s ass-sweat dripped into his mouth.
“Get that tongue in there,” Ramon said. He did not expect a real rimjob, but it was fun to try, and the delay meant he moved further away from the orgasm he could feel gathering deep within.
Barrack struggled to make himself do it. His big tongue pushed into the hole, then out, then back in again. Each time he penetrated Ramon’s asshole, a wave of pleasure washed over Ramon’s body.
Grinding his hips to get his ass lower, Ramon managed to literally sit on Barrack’s face. With Barrack laying on his back on the bunk, Ramon was supported entirely by his head, by his tongue sliding in and out of his slippery asshole.
Ramon’s dick twitched and spasmed. Precum dripped from his shaft. Ramon threw his head back and moaned. He could have cum like this, from the intense pleasure emanating from his prostate. But he didn’t want to.
He pulled away just in the nick of time. Barrack hoarsely belched and gasped for air. He sat up and took a deep breath. His reddish face looked away from Ramon until Ramon pulled on his handcuffs to get his attention.
“Look me in the eye! Beg me for more ass!”
“Please… Please… Uh, Inmate… Please… Let me lick your ass some more.”
“What did I say? Are you supposed to be licking my ass?”
“I mean… Let me lick your rectum or whatever,” Barrack said. Tears winkled in his eyes. He turned to Officer Uglymug. “Please… You can arrest me. I would rather be on trial. Please!”
“Too late now,” Officer Uglymug said. “Besides, you don’t wanna know how they’d treat you when you are convicted. At least this will only last one day, Zales. You ready to drink some piss?”
“No!”
“Well, here it comes,” Officer Uglymug said. He had his hoggish prick out and aimed towards the bunk. After just a moment’s silence, he began pissing, a long, solid stream of acrid yellow piss arcing all the way to the bunk. It soaked into the mattress.
It landed on Barrack’s leg. He squirmed and looked away, then he saw Ramon’s harsh glare. His big, muscled body crept forward and to the ground. He opened his mouth right in the stream of piss, which dripped from his face.
“Alright, lemme take a turn on that ass,” Ramon muttered, as Uglymug was finishing up his stream of piss. He pulled away from Barrack’s mouth and got behind him. Barrack didn’t seem to notice since he was focused on the bitter piss filling his mouth and spilling past his lips. He sputtered and spewed, and he twisted around on the now-soaked mattress.
Barrack had such a wide, broad back that Ramon could barely wrap his arms around it. With his dick wedged between Barrack’s toned asscheeks, Ramon couldn’t reach Barrack’s nipples — it was like climbing onto a great beast whose muscles rippled beneath Ramon’s tiny body.
“What are you doing?!” Barrack screamed as Officer Uglymug finished pissing. Barrack’s face dripped. Since he was in the midst of a furious storm of retches, his asshole wasn’t clenched tight.
A loud pained croaking sound ripped out of Barrack’s throat as Ramon forced his dick in. He pushed it in farther and farther while Barrack squirmed and cried out. With his body unprepared for the sensation, Ramon got most of his cock in before Barrack instinctively tightened his asshole
That made it feel even better. Ramon loved the sensation of Barrack’s entire musculature tightening as he tried to buck Ramon off him. But Ramon just held on tight, his feet no longer on the floor. Barrack roared and screamed.
Ramon had no idea how long that lasted. He held on as Barrack wiggled and squirmed. Ramon couldn’t really ram back and forth at all, he had no leverage with which to move his body. He just gripped Barrack’s muscles and kept his cock all the way in Barrack’s ass, while the writhing of Barrack’s powerful body massaged pleasure into Ramon’s cock.
“God damn, man… Get off me!” Barrack screamed.
Then he went down, and his asshole clenched even tighter again as Officer Zales zapped Barrack with the cattle prod. The tingling of his skin was palpable, and Ramon even squirmed as the electricity poured through him as well.
But it was just a little buzz for Ramon — those cattle prods weren’t set to a strong shock — while Barrack screamed and collapsed into a sweaty, piss-covered heap of limp muscle on the bunk. His entire body tightened and stayed tense.
“There you go, good…” Ramon whispered into Barrack’s sweat-covered face. He began pistoning his hips, slamming his cock in over and over. Barrack’s asshole was clenched tight, but Ramon didn’t care, and he had already torn through his ass once. Barrack couldn’t do anything to stop him as Ramon pounded away at his plump behind.
The sound of Barrack’s tears were music to Ramon’s ears — he had spent years enduring the jeers and taunting of the other guards. He had been extorted and beaten and even worse, and now he got to hear a guard (or a former guard anyway) going through the same tortures.
“At least you get to leave here too,” Ramon said. He hoped his point was getting through to Barrack, but the man was sobbing hard enough that Ramon wasn’t sure he could hear.
Every time Ramon’s cock reached the deepest depths of Barrack’s ass, Barrack’s entire well-muscled body flexed and contorted like he was having a seizure. Sprawled out on the bunk he could do little more than writhe as Ramon slammed his ass again and again.
Finally Ramon could put it off no longer. An orgasm ripped through his body, so powerful it made him gnaw like a baby on Barrack’s shoulder. He grunted. Barrack roared and Ramon barked. They both tensed as Barrack clenched his ass around Ramon’s dick, which spurted a flood of cum into his tight asshole.
It was a huge load, having built up over the last few days — Ramon wasn’t in general population since he was about to be released, so he hadn’t had busted a nut. He hadn’t even masturbated because he hoped to fuck a woman s soon as he was released, and he wanted to have a big buildup of cum. He was glad to have saved it up for something special like this.
He twitched as his passion drained away like the last drops of cum that filled Barrack’s ass. Ramon stayed right there in position, giggling at Barrack’s exhausted choking, as his dick slowly limpened inside Barrack’s ass.
“Do you regret your actions?” Ramon asked. He crawled forward to wipe his ass-dripping cock off on Barrack’s face and lips.
“I do! I’m sorry! I’ll never try anything like it again,” Barrack said. He winced but opened his mouth and even extended his tongue to suck the filth of his own ass off Ramon’s cock. His skin was still so sensitive Ramon shuddered, his knees weakening. Barrack’s tongue sent him to new heights of pleasure, as Ramon experienced the final aftershocks of his climax.
“Good,” Ramon said. He leaned back and took a deep breath of the cum-scented air. He sat on Barrack’s muscled chest.
“You better get your clothes together, both of you,” Officer Uglymug said. “I”m takin’ you both for showers. You’re both going home today, and hopefully, neither of you are coming back.”
Greg got drunk last night, so when he wakes up, he’s under arrest and being processed by the legendary cruel alpha-male bully Officer Awful! He’s in for a hardcore tale of domination, submission and utter humiliation!
Read the whole thing here!
Greg was still drunk, but he felt serious now. It had all seemed like a big joke when he was being arrested. He laughed the whole time. But he had been left in the little waiting area for what felt like hours, and the silence and the solitude made him realize he was in big trouble. It was just some drunk-in-public stuff, but he had gotten into it with the cop — into it hard — and they were going to hit him with resisting arrest, assaulting an officer, destruction of property and who even knew what else! Greg was fucked.
Now at last a bulky cop with a shit-eating grin came to get him. That wasn’t the simpering little nerd-looking cop who arrested Greg for public drunkenness. This man had an air of authority.
“Good evening, Mister Hardesty, my name is Officer Auffernan. Some people call me Officer Awful. I don’t condone that,” he said. He held up one hand as though he was testifying in court. “But I don’t forbid it. I’m gonna process you into jail tonight. Now unfortunately our only judge for the weekend has gone home, so you’re going to have wait to be arraigned on Monday.”
“For public drunk’ness?” Greg hiccuped, still slightly drunk.
“I’ll tell you when the time for questions has come,” Officer Auffernan said. “And you should address me as sir.”
“Uh… yes, sir.”
“Hmm, thank you, Mister Hardesty. I’m going to start calling you ‘fuckweasel’. Will that trigger anything in you? Was ya mama raped by a weasel or something like that? Good.” He didn’t give Greg a chance to say anything. Officer Auffernan frowned down at Greg like a disgusting species of frog. “Now what I’m going to do next is punch you right in the belly, as hard as I can.” He lowered his head to look Greg in the eye. Greg blanched, but Officer Auffernan held his head in place. “But don’t you worry, there is a valid penological reason for it.”
Then there was an explosion of pain, so fast that Greg didn’t even realize it had happened until he was already on the floor, clutching his belly. He cried out and twitched so hard his head banged into the wall.
“Now get up and take ya clothes off. I need to search you for contraband. If you is bringin’ contraband into my jail, I will rock ya fuckin’ world, fuckweasel.”
But Greg could do nothing more than groan and squirm. He tried to stagger to his feet, but he was at a loss for breath. He hoarsely squeaked out a gasp, and he managed only to kneel on one foot.
“I said get up and take ya clothes off, fuckweasel!”
Every move he made was arduous. Greg let out a sob and a cry of pain as Officer Auffernan got down real close. He shouted like a drill instructor, his spit splashing onto Gary’s face.
“Take your clothes off, fuckweasel, right now, or I swear to God I will shove this entire jail up your asshole!”
Even as Greg started to unbutton his shirt, fumbling from both pain and terror, Officer Awful kept his face so near his breath condensed on Gary’s cheeks. “Hurry up, fuckweasel. I’ve got a nice hard cot with your name on it. You are gonna regret every day you ever breathed air on this planet, you are gonna feel like a mule rented by a red-headed stepchild if you don’t hurry your stupid ass up, boy. Do you think I am playing with you? Huh? Do you?”
“No! No!” Greg gasped. One of the buttons flew off his shirt, which ripped as he tore it off himself. He threw it on the floor.
Officer Awful pushed Greg over as he tried to drop his pants, and he fell to the ground. “Hurry up, fuckweasel!”
“I’m trying!” Greg ripped the fly of his jeans trying to get them off, as he sobbed into the linoleum floor. It was cold and felt wet, in a vaguely urinal-y way that churned Greg’s stomach. Humiliation rose up in him. He didn’t know how his life was turning out this way. He wasn’t this kind of guy — he wasn’t a criminal, a bad boy.
Was it the alcohol? Greg didn’t think of himself as an alcoholic. He didn’t drink every day. Well… not every day. There was a day a couple months ago… Greg somehow got his pants off over his shoes, which he kicked off as he squirmed on the moist linoleum.
“Alright, fuckweasel.” He grabbed Gary’s hair. His clothes were off, and he lay flat, panting, on the floor. Officer Awful grinned, revealing dimpled cheeks, like he woulda been handsome if he weren’t so craggy and worn. “I’m gonna tell you something in just a second. You should know that I’m telling you this as a friend — or a potential friend — this is not in my position as an officer and representative of the state government.” He took a deep breath as though confiding a great and vital secret. “Here it is: you should beg me to spit in ya mouth. It would make things go easier if you do that, as a gesture of submissive goodwill.”
“What?”
Greg doubled over again as Officer Awful punched him once more in the gut. He was already on the floor, but he now could not get up. Spasms of pain wracked his body.
“No questions!”
Greg gasped for air. He tried to apologize but couldn’t.
“Get up, now, fuckweasel!” Officer Awful mock-kicked him — kicking his foot but stopping it just centimeters from Gary’s body, so Greg flinched and wept each time. He buried his face in his arms. “Gonna turn ya head into my soccer ball, fuckweasel, if you don’t get up.”
When Greg could do little more than crawl, Officer Awful deemed that good enough and opened the door to the next little locked corridor in the jail. Crawling was the most humiliating experience in Greg’s life. His bare ass poked up high in the air, and his knees ached, his stomach ached, everything ached. He wanted to puke, run, cry and hide all at once.
“Please, uh… what, uh…you can do that, uh, spitting thing, just let me up-“
“Don’t you speak like that to me, fuckweasel. If you want something, you address me like a man, as sir, and you plan your words before you open ya mouth. None of this uh or ah business. That’s for girls and pansies, and I don’t see tits or petals on you.”
“Okay, please…” Greg found it difficult to be blunt and not say uh. “Please, you can spit in my mouth-“
‘I know I can. That ain’t what I told you as a friend,” he said. “Wasn’t you payin’ attention? I was tryin’ to be helpful.”
“Please spit in my mouth!”
He smiled again, and took off his sheriff’s hat. “Why, don’t mind if I do.” He hunkered down real close to Greg and hocked up a loogie into his mouth. It was clotty and thick, and it smelled like a doorknob. He spoke moistly as he gathered up spit in his mouth, making Gary’s stomach churn. “In my jail, we call this a ‘bitch-kiss’. It’s how a prison top makes his bottom know his place.” He let loose with another giant wad of saliva and phlegm that plopped in Gary’s mouth.
Greg choked and tried to spit it out, but Officer Awful grabbed him by the neck, squeezing tight enough that he nearly lifted Greg off the ground. Greg squealed and sputtered. Officer Awful spat again, directly into Gary’s mouth, then again. His lips were so close they nearly kissed.
“You feel it, fuckweasel? Ya feel how intimate this is?” He paused and hocked up a loogie in his mouth. He forced himself to couch to fill his mouth even more. He very moistly said, “You my bitch now, fuckweasel. I’m gonna make you open up and suck up the spit in my mouth now. It’s gonna taste real nasty, but you’re gonna choke it down while I watch. You ready?”
Greg shook his head.
“Tough…” He squeezed Gary’s cheeks until his mouth opened, and then a massive mouthful of spit and fluids landed in Gary’s mouth. He still hadn’t swallowed what was already there, so his mouth was overflowing now. Saliva flooded his face from his forehead to his chin, both Officer Awful’s and Gary’s own.
Officer Awful very slowly forced Gary’s mouth closed. “Swallow, fuckweasel. Swallow…” He massaged Gary’s neck like he was forcing a dog to swallow a pill.
Greg gagged and retched, but Officer Awful kept his mouth close and Greg could do nothing but choke back the gags emanating out of his raging stomach. He kept one arm curled over his belly as though to keep it all in. Finally he had quelled the nausea, though he could still taste snot in his mouth.
Before he could recover, Officer Awful dragged him into the next room. A handful of other officers were visible through the windows here, watching and laughing. Greg couldn’t hear them, but he could see their faces light up when they saw him. The nerdy-looking officer who had arrested Greg was there as well, leering at him. They all cheered when Greg let out a choked sob.
“Can… Can I say I’m sorry?” Greg asked. He nodded to the nerdy officer. “Can I apologize to him? I was rude to him before, last night. And… I might have hit him, I don’t remember-“
He doubled over in pain as Officer Awful punched him in the gut again. Through the soundproof glass, the watching officers laughed and cheered.
“You got freedom of speech, fuckweasel. You can always apologize. Jail rules say you can’t ask no questions, that’s why I had to punch you,” he said. “They can hear you through the loudspeaker.”
“Uh… I’m sorry, Officer… Uh… I don’t know your name-“
“Boy, what did I tell you about sayin’ uh?”
“I’m sorry!”
“Well, I appreciate your apology, fuckweasel, and yes, you were quite rude to my fellow officer last night. You said some very hurtful things. Words are weapons, doncha know. So, despite ya ‘pology, you still gotta spend a weekend with me. Don’t worry. I’m sure we gonna be real good friends,” Officer Awful said. “Do you enjoy gettin’ gutpunched?” He did so again, even harder this time, making Greg double over and gasp for air. His flat belly was crying out in pain. He could there was gonna be a huge colorful bruise there tomorrow.
“C’mon…”
“This is not the time for begging. This jail has a begging period every day, please save it for then,” Awful said. Then he directed Greg to stand over the drain in one end of the room, with his legs and arms spread, leaning against the wall. Greg’s bare ass dimpled and jiggled. It was cold in this room.
“Are you gonna…?” Greg wanted to ask if Officer Awful was going to cornhole him. That’s what it felt like in this position. But he couldn’t ask questions. “This position is… it feels like you’re going to cornhole me.”
“Oh. Do you want me to ram you up the asshole til ya buttcheeks fall off? Keep your head still, fuckweasel.” Officer Awful was doing something, getting some piece of equipment ready, but all Greg could see was the wall in front of him. Or was Awful taking off his belt?
“No, don’t! Don’t do that!”
“What was that? Are you begging me to ram you? If you really want me to, I’ll consider it later, fuckweasel. It’s technically against the rules though. Close your eyes,” he said. Then there was a cloud of white powder in the air. Greg coughed and sputtered. Officer Awful made him turn around and covered him in more of the acrid white powder. “Turn back around.”
Greg hacked as he tried to get his breath. His stomach still hurt from being punched, and his drunken headache was getting worse. He could tell — even though he couldn’t hear or see them — that Officer Martin and the other cops in the next room were laughing at him.
Water sprayed onto his back. It was ice-cold, and it made Gary’s balls crawl up in his sac. He gasped and twitched.
“Stay still, fuckweasel!”
The water was so cold Greg couldn’t breathe. His skin tightened up, and his stomach dropped. Officer Awful made him bend backover, sticking his ass in the air. He sprayed water from the hose directly onto Gary’s asshole, which hurt so bad Greg screamed. He clawed at the wall of the tiny room.
Finally the water turned off, and Officer Awful dragged Greg away, into the next room once more. Greg tried to get on his feet, but Officer Awful didn’t give him a chance to. Greg was naked and wet, so he kept slipping and couldn’t even crawl for more than a few feet, he kept collapsing as Awful kicked him and dragged him over the floor.
“Please!” Greg cried out, then clamped his mouth shut lest he start begging again, outside of the designated begging time. He wondered if there was really a designated begging time.
He was dragged over the linoleum floor, naked and wet, dizzy, nauseous. He begged, but Officer Awful barked at him to be silent every time he said anything, so all he could do was pant.
As it turned out, the next room was a medical examination. There wasn’t much to it though — Officer Awful tossed him up onto the cushioned chair and rammed his finger into Gary’s ass so fast Greg hadn’t even finishing sitting down before he felt that finger wiggling inside him.
“Let’s take a walk,” Officer Awful said. “I wanna make sure I search all up in you, and that means you gotta move. Shift your contraband around.”
“I. Don’t. Have. Any,” Greg said, gritting his teeth through the pain. He forced himself to take a step, then another, but every move he made sent waves of agony through his body.
At least he reached the doorway, and Officer Awful gave him a shove. He stumbled forward, Officer Awful moving with him and that finger stayed in his asshole the entire time.
Those other cops were there in the next room, watching and cheering as Greg stammered. He couldn’t even think about a plan because of the pain in his ass.
“Wreck him! Wreck him! Wreck him!”
“Put him on his knees, Auffernan!”
Officer Awful moved his finger like a fishhook, pointing down, and in order to alleviate the pain, Greg lowered himself. Soon he was on his knees on the ground. Officer Awful at last removed his finger.
But the relief was short-lived because he shoved his finger in Gary’s mouth. Greg gagged at the assy taste, but his head was jammed against a wall.
Then before Greg could even get his bearings or stop gagging, his mouth was pried open. He knew what was coming, but it was still shocking to feel that fleshy, rubbery limp cock slide onto his tongue. He choked all over again. Officer Awful let his dick slide out of the fly of his uniform slacks, ramming as much of it as he could fit into Gary’s mouth.
“You got contraband in yer throat, fuckweasel? Huh? If you do, I’ll find it, swear to God, and I will ram you so hard yer mama gonna feel it,” Officer Awful said. “Now listen here.” He rammed his cock in as far as it would go, maybe halfway in, as it started to stiffen up. “My pops always said you ain’t ram a fuckweasel’s throat hard enough till there’s tears comin’ out of his fuckweasel eyes and there’s ballsweat dripping from his fuckweasel chin. Ya feel me, fuckweasel? You had better swallow enough of my dick to rub my balls on your chin.”
Greg was dizzy, and he choked so hard it hurt his stomach, but with Officer Awful’s cock in his throat, he couldn’t do anything but squirm. The wall was hard and stubbly, scratching against his skin as he moved up and down. It was iron-hard, pressing at his throat like a battering ram.
Finally Officer Awful backed off to let him have a breath. Greg collapsed to the ground, but he had no sooner taken a breath before he was on the floor on his back. Officer Awful pushed him into position, then kneeled over his face so that his balls plopped on Gary’s nose.
“You had best loosen up that throat boy, or there is gonna be some consequences. You won’t like ’em one bit,” he said. Then he bent over Gary’s body like he was doing a push-up. He pointed his dick into Gary’s mouth and slammed down with all his weight.
Greg choked once more. He had never regained his breath, and now his throat was sore even before that massive cock pushed in. But Officer Awful was relentless. He pivoted his hips, laughing as Gary’s throat gradually lost its resistance.
Soon Officer Awful’s balls rested on Gary’s nose and eyes. Gary’s whole world went white, and at first he thought it was cum, that Officer Awful had finally shot his wad. But no, he just lost consciousness for a few seconds.
When he went limp, Officer Awful pulled up and out of his mouth. He patted Greg on the back of the head and chuckled as he hoarsely gasped. “There you go, you did it, hoss, good boy,” he said. “That means I am gonna ram you in the ass, but just one time. And then… well, if you be good, I just might let you go. Got it?”
He nodded.
“See, now you answered me without using words, fuckweasel. I don’t like that,” he said. “Not at all.”
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry!” Greg squealed and sobbed. “I do understand. I’ll do whatever you want.”
“I know… Get on your back, lift your feet in the air,” Officer Awful said. He got on his knees. Greg was terrified, and he especially didn’t want to take that massive dick up the ass in this position. But of course, he didn’t have any choice.
“I like rammin’ like this cuz it hurts my bitch,” Officer Awful said as though that was a good rationale. “Plus it lets me finish with a punch and a choke, so you’ll have that to look forward to.”
Greg tried to think of a way to ask what that meant without asking a question, but he had a feeling he knew the answer. Officer Awful smirked at him. He spat on Gary’s face again, and as Greg winced and gagged, he drilled his cock in.
He lightly smacked Greg on the cheek. “I’m in you now, bitch. Guess how many inches you got in ya.”
“Uh… I-“
He smacked Greg harder, and Greg groaned. “What did I tell you about saying uh?”
“You said not to. I apologize. It hurts…”
“Guess how many inches you got in you?”
“Three?” Greg had no idea, it was just a random guess.
“Wrong. Gimme yer hand,” he said. He didn’t wait. He grabbed Gary’s hand and brought it forward to his ass. The movement made the pain worse. He touched Officer Awful’s cock with one hand. There was still a whole lot of cockmeat to go. “Feel that? You only got like a half-inch in your ass.” Greg could hear deep male voices laughing from the other room — the officer who arrested him, maybe more cops too, they were over there laughing as he endured unimaginable agony.
“Yes, sir, Officer Awful.”
“Now start chanting, thank you big brother, can I have another? You got that? Keep sayin’ it ‘till I get all my dick in ya,” he said.
“Thank you big brother, can I have another! Thank you big brother, can I have another! Thank you big brother, can I have another! Thank you big brother, can I have another!” Greg shouted it at first with nothing happening, but then Officer Awful started to ram his dick in between each chant. “Thank you big brother, can I have another!” Over and over again, he pumped his hips in the silence between chants. And each time, that caused mind-blowing agony in Gary’s asshole. “Thank you big brother, can I have another!”
It continued for what felt like forever. Greg didn’t know how he managed to do it, but eventually he felt that heavy hand close over his mouth.
“Shut up, fuckweasel,” he said with a groan. “I’m all way in you now. You’re my property. Say that.”
“I’m Officer… Officer Awful’s property,” Greg said. He bit his lip and threw his head back. The pain was excruciating, and it quickly got worse as Officer Awful began to gyrate his hips back and forth.
His balls slapped against Gary’s asshole. He wrapped his arms around Gary’s ankles and pressed them close to his muscular chest. His cock throbbed deep in Gary’s ass, which squeezed and churned. He clawed at Officer Awful’s chest, but to no avail. Awful was built like a bear, and he rammed like a stallion.
“Beg me to cum. Come on, be like a porno chick, man. Improvise a little,” Officer Awful said. He spat in Gary’s mouth as soon as he opened up to speak.
“Please… Cum in me… I want your cum inside me…” Greg said through his tears of pain and humiliation. That massive cock drilled into him, back and forth, demolishing his ass, regardless of how Greg squirmed or his hole clenched. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry I was rude and drunk… Please fill me up with your cum… Please-“
He was cut off because all of a sudden Officer Awful’s hands slapped Greg’s cheeks. He then squeezed Gary’s throat, hard enough to choke him, and his other hand formed a fist. It hovered above Gary’s face.
Greg tried to scream, but he choked, so all he could do was tighten and spasm. His whole body shook. His asshole clenched around Officer Awful’s cock.
Just when he thought the pain couldn’t get any worse, Officer Awful finally punched him right in the nose. Gary screamed in pain, as Officer Awful let go of his neck and Greg let out a series of hoarse sobs. That cascade of sensations inside Gary’s body was what sent Officer Awful over the edge.
“Cummin’ up in you now, boy, you in the home stretch…”
He gasped. Greg screamed. That spectacled officer, still watching outside the room, clapped and cheered. Cum sprayed into Gary’s ass, deep, hot and creamy. It stuck to his flesh and seeped into him like mud. He choked and gagged even though nothing was in his mouth.
“Hell yeah, fuckweasel, you got a nice ass,” Officer Awful said with a sigh. “Had a nice ass.” His cock spasmed inside Greg, sending more thick wads of cum inside him. It was a massive wad, it felt like, gobs of it spreading to every corner of Greg’s insides. He felt the heat seeping into him.
Then at last, Officer Awful withdrew his dick. The most incredible relief of his life flooded Greg, who closed his eyes. He shuddered, a frisson running up his spine. He didn’t want to ever open his eyes again.
That meant he didn’t see when Officer Awful scooted forward, reached for his mouth to open it and ram his dick inside. The taste of ass and cum intermixed in Gary’s mouth, making him retch and gag so hard his stomach hurt. The shame of tasting his own ass on another man’s dick flooded Gary, and the only consolation was that he was crying too hard to see what he was doing or how many cops were laughing at him.
“Clean up your mess, fuckweasel,” Officer Awful said. He swiped his dick over Gary’s face, making him lick every inch of the shaft, tracing every vein, as Officer Awful moaned and curdled above him. The taste was foul and sickening, and Greg couldn’t stop gagging, both from disgust and from the shame of those other cops watching him at his lowest.
Finally he was done. Officer Awful pulled away, stood and pulled his pants back up. He straightened his uniform. When Greg moaned and tried to stand, he kicked him in the thigh and Greg collapsed to the ground.
“Stay here,” Officer Awful said. “Now that I’m done checking you in, it’s time to show you to your cell. Don’t worry, I promise I won’t do that again and again all weekend.”
“You said… you’d let me go…”
“I said I’d consider it. And, I am going to let you go, eventually,” he said. He winked at Greg. “But you still got punishment coming to you.”
