scenes featuring humping – Mansploitation

The Football Jock

Rob loves football jocks and their sweat-soaked gear, so he likes to hang out in the college locker room during games. When one studly athlete is ejected from the game, only Rob can alleviate his manly urges… Or can he?!

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Rob Winthrop was in the locker room of the GHU Titans. The team was out on the field. He could have gone out there. He paid for the team’s parties and special, not college-approved events — like the stripper parties — so the team allowed him to do whatever he wanted as long as it didn’t disrupt the team. Rob was fine with that; he had no desire to disrupt the team.
He was a major supporter of the GHU athletic department, and he had been for years. He loved locker rooms, and football was his favorite sport — at least at the moment — so he could think of no place he would rather be than right here. He loved the smell and the way it permeated everything. When Rob left here, the smell would linger in his nostrils. It smelled like sweat, but it had a certain quality that Rob thought of as the smell of football itself — not the ball, the sport. It smelled of grass-stains and grease-paint, tackles, sweat-stained jockstraps and stale beer.
They had left some of their gear behind. Of course, the game was going on, so they had most of their gear out there — all their pads and such, their cleats, that kind of thing. But Rob had plenty to play with anyway. Everything reeked of sweat, salty and fragrant, zesty, musky like a fine cologne before it was ruined with floral additions.
One thing he loved was those little half-shirts they wore during practice — football-cut, they call that. The shirts usually became utterly sweat-logged. Rob found three and sniffed them aggressively, licking up all the salt left behind when the sweat evaporated from the fabric. The aroma was intoxicating, heady, grassy, potent like a slap to the face, and it made Rob want to swoon into a football jock’s powerful arms.
The crowd roared, and Rob’s ears pricked up. Somebody must have scored a touchdown. He had no desire to go out there though. The game of football was of little interest to him.
Soon he was too turned on to just smell those stretched cotton swathes of half-shirts, sopping wet and tangy just from the aura of football-sweat clinging to them. He dropped to his ass on the cold linoleum floor, and he dropped his shorts. He flopped his dick on the half-shirts and humped them, moaning as he imagined himself playing the sport with the team.
Rob wished he could play with the team. He had only done so once — and it wasn’t a real game, of course, it was only an unofficial and unapproved scrimmage. Rob was much too small and weak to play on a level like with these muscle-bound behemoths.
But the team thought it was hilarious and agreed (in exchange for gas money for a road trip). They did it after practice so Coach Marshall wouldn’t know. Rob had been right there in the middle of the huddle as his team — the shirts — came up with their plays. Rob didn’t know enough about football plays to participate in that part, so he just stroked their muscles and licked the sweat off their bicep as they huddled.
The part that Rob had really enjoyed, however, was the tackle. That was the part he had been looking most forward to, and it was the part that turned out the best. He had dove onto Tuck McCarraher, the left tackle who volunteered to be on the bottom of this particular dogpile.
Tuck wore one of those half-shirts — quite possibly one of the ones Rob was currently humping in the locker room, since the team shared those — and it had ridden up on his back when Rob jumped onto him, high enough that Rob’s face pressed against his naked neck. Rob was much too light to bring Tuck down, so he had bit back of a moan of desire as he clutched Tuck’s broad, sweaty back.
He would never have been able to hold on for long because the sun had been baking Tuck’s tan shoulders, and they were slick with sweat. Rob began slipping as soon as he held on. He didn’t mind. He rubbed his face against the writhing muscles of Tuck’s back, and he let himself slide.
“Uh-!”
“Agh-!”
“Uh-uh!”
“Yuuuuh!”
It lasted only a few seconds before they were both on the ground, tackled by what felt like a ton of man, jock after jock piling atop Rob’s delicate little back. Somebody’s muscles pressed down on his lithe body. Rob oomphed onto Tuck’s back, his erect cock rubbing over Tuck’s asscheek, cradled by his workout shorts. That was why Rob had asked for a volunteer for him to try being tackled — he knew perfectly well he was going to get aroused and maybe even cum. Tuck had said he was fine with that — well, maybe not “fine with” but tolerant of it anyway.
Tuck laughed nervously as football players piled on Rob’s back. Rob couldn’t breathe due to the hundreds of pounds of man-meat pressing on him, but he didn’t care. He didn’t mean to hump Tuck’s asscrack, but that was exactly what happened. He moved and swayed, trying to breathe, and as a result, his cock — already rock-hard — rubbed between Tuck’s toned cheeks.
Like most college athletes, Tuck had an exquisite body, and when his ass tensed up, it was like humping two warm, fleshy rocks. Rob panted and felt precum soaking into the dingy gray shorts Tuck wore.
But even hotter than that was the man on top of Rob — he couldn’t see who — whose bare chest rubbed over Rob’s back. Whoever it was was so thickly built that Rob was lost in the valley between his pectorals, shrouded in sweat, feeling the man’s own cock and balls cradled by his jockstrap and rubbing against the small of Rob’s back.
Did that man have a hardon? For just a moment, it felt like it. Maybe he did — or maybe he just had such a huge, girthy cock that it always felt hard.
There was another jockstrap resting on his hand. Someone had done that deliberately, he was pretty sure. His hand stuck out from the tackle and someone had dipped his balls onto Rob’s hand, like he was getting checked for a hernia. Rob stroked the ballsac on his hand, groaned and orgasmed right then and there. Moisture filled his crotch and coated Tuck’s back muscles.
“Aw, brah, he’s totally nuttin’, he’s goin’, ah… shit!”
Rob had told them it might happen. That was why they had had a long conversation about who was going to be on the bottom. Tuck had agreed, and he closed his eyes, moaning a little when he felt hot cum spurting over his back.
The whole tackle only took maybe two minutes, a little longer than a tackle in a game. Rob didn’t even need the whole two minutes. He was already turned on before it began, and then before he knew it, he swam in a sea of jockhood and shot his salty cum all over Tuck’s ass. Pleasure exploded within Rob, who moaned out loud, though nobody could hear over the carrying on of the players. Rob’s whole body writhed, ensconced in football jock meat, as exquisite bliss coursed through his veins.
Then it was over. Tuck jumped up and laughed good-naturedly, blushing, ripping those workout shorts off though he was careful at the same time to only hold the elastic waistband of them — he didn’t think any cum had gotten up that high.
“Tuck, damn, you got nutted on-“
“Oh shit, you got cornholed, buddy-“
Tuck blushed and roared. “Man, shut the fuck up, he ain’t stick it in-!” He blushed again as he realized his little half-shirt was cummy too, which meant some of the cum had probably hit his elastic, so he had touched it with his fingers. He took off the little half-shirt, tossed it on the grass and ran into the locker room, wearing nothing but his jockstrap. Rob watched his well-tanned, juicy ass shaking, framed by his jockstrap.
Tuck didn’t mind getting cummed on because being laidback was part of his image. While most of his fellow football players presented themselves as ladysmen who messed with the prettiest, nicest girls on campus, Tuck had little use for that. He didn’t like the plasticy cheerleadery type.
He liked his girls rebellious, alternative, dirty, raunchy even — he liked punks, Goths, weird girls, the kind of girl who would think it a turn-off if he was squeamish about other men. He had calculated that brushing off the cum on his back would pay dividends in getting those kinds of girls to give him the time of day.
So he wasn’t upset about it — he liked having a reputation as the team raunchhog, the Dirty Fucker (a nickname his teammates, and even his coach, sometimes used). Tuck was tall even for a football player, at well over six feet tall, and broad-shouldered like a mack truck. He had long stringy hair like a heavy-metal guitarist too, which was one of the things that made girls like him so much. They ran their fingers through that hair, styled it in an updo, in cornrows, in a ponytail, and Tuck always played along.
Of course, when he was alone, he just left his hair alone. He didn’t care about his long hair except inasmuch as it helped him get laid.
But he did take exception to it when a player on the opposing team said he looked like a “prettyboy” with his long hair. Tuck was the opposite of a prettyboy, his image had never been pretty. He spoke like a hillbilly, covered his chest in amateurish tats and let his chest hair grow out (the rest of the team shaved it because the cheerleaders liked their men smooth).
So he had thrown a punch, right in the middle of that game. The ref saw it, blew his whistle, and Tuck tried to defend himself.
The next minute or two were an angry blur. Later, Tuck was relieved he hadn’t lost control and punched that ref’s lights out, but at the time, all he thought about was how that player had called him a prettyboy.
So he was ejected from the field, and he stalked away from the booing crowd and the judgmental stares of his coaches. The ref didn’t blow the whistle to resume play until Tuck was gone from the stadium entirely.
He entered the locker room just a few minutes after Rob blew his wad all over the half-shirt that Tuck had worn during his warm-up before the game. Rob’s salty load mixed with Tuck’s salty sweat, and it dripped through Rob’s fingers onto the locker-room bench below.
Tuck was so worked up though from the fight that he didn’t smell the cum or notice Rob when he walked into the locker room. In his mind, he was going to go right to the showers and leave — he didn’t want to still be here when the game was over.
But he was so pissed off, he just roared, punched the palm of his own hand and paced. He didn’t take off his pads or even his cleats.
He only stopped to notice Rob when Rob stood and approached him. Rob could hear the game’s announcer through the loudspeaker, so he was aware Tuck had been ejected, but he had been focused on jacking off, so it hadn’t sunk in what he had heard until he saw Tuck’s furious face and his mind backed up to figure out what had transpired to cause this. He remembered then that he heard over the loudspeaker Tuck was ejected from the game.
His shoulder-pads loomed high above Rob, who quaked a little in fear because Tuck was so red-faced and blusteringly angry. Tuck growled at him, too worked up to notice that Rob had just cum onto the pile of half-shirts and workout gear.
“Hey!” Tuck snapped, wishing he could think of a reason to aim his anger at Rob. “You… You fucking…”
“Sorry you got in trouble,” Rob said, blushing. When Tuck didn’t respond, Rob hugged him. Tuck was so tall that Rob wrapped his arms around his jersey and rubbed his face against his flat belly. Tuck’s broad muscles were firm as rock beneath Rob’s grasp, and his heart pounded audibly through his chest. His skin was slick with sweat, which Rob slurped up. Tuck was so upset he didn’t even notice, and Rob grew bolder and bolder about savoring the sweat that clung to Tuck’s muscles.
His dick twitched. It was barely noticeable because it was imprisoned by an athletic supporter jockstrap. His cock and balls hung heavily between his legs, bulging from those leggings.
Tuck grunted. His chest heaved. He couldn’t think about anything but punching that goddamn ref.
And sex.
His girlfriend had promised to fuck him after tonight’s game — she said he could tap that ass — but she made a point of saying it wasn’t “for” this game. She was too “alternative” to support a sport like football. It was a “patriarchal sport”.
Tuck wanted to get his nut off. He narrowed his eyes to slits. Could he dick down Rob? He was sure the answer to that was yes. The questionable part was could he ask? It would be embarrassing, he thought.
“You want me to get you off, baby?” Rob asked for him, because he sensed that Tuck wanted it but was too straight and macho to ask. Tuck nodded and wrinkled his nostrils.
Rob sunk to his knees and pulled down those leggings. He started his attention before he took Tuck’s jockstrap off. He just started licking on the twitchy, throbbing bulge right away, and it soon firmed up. He stopped Tuck from removing the jockstrap just yet though.
First he licked a trail up under that jersey, which Tuck took off to reveal his compression shirt. They called it a “skin” because it tightly hugged his own skin, making his pecs look massive and perfectly formed. Those pecs rippled when Rob touched him.
“You taste so good, baby…” Rob murmured. He sensed that Tuck needed to be bucked up, so he kept saying that over and over, repeating how handsome Tuck was. One of Rob’s hands stroked up Tuck’s chest, under his skin and teased his muscles. He tweaked each nipple, making those mountainous pecs flex and bounce. Rob’s other hand slipped into his jockstrap.
It was sweaty and humid, like reaching into a jungle. Rob didn’t mean to drop his jockstrap yet, but Tuck’s dick was so big and firm in his hand that the jockstrap was forced down anyway. Rob stroked it gently with one hand.
“Damn, shit-” Tuck grunted and flexed his hips involuntarily. He closed his eyes as his cock slid in and out of Rob’s grip.
He still had his pads on when he sat on the bench in the locker room. That gave Rob easier access to his chest. He tried to take the pads off — so he could get that skin off — now that he wasn’t playing, it felt sweaty and gross to keep that stuff on — but Rob’s hands and tongue were in the way, and Tuck gave up.
The ref was gone from his mind. All he could think about now was his cock, throbbing and begging to cum. “C’mon, put it in your mouth,” Tuck said, his barrel-chested voice ringing out in Rob’s ear.
Rob’s heart thrummed as shivers of anticipation rocked his body, and he leaned in to kiss Tuck on the neck, slurping up some of the sweat that clung to his stubble. The smell of the grease-paint on Tuck’s cheek was intoxicating when he was this close.
Rob dropped to his knees, and slammed his own head deep onto Tuck’s cock. He surprised him with a sudden deep-throat, so sudden that Tuck was still leaning forward and Rob had to bury himself in his hairy, meaty crotch.
“Ah, shit, shit!” Tuck grunted and groaned. He gasped, leaning back so Rob could eagerly deep-throat him to the root.
No girl had ever deep-throated him quite like this. Tuck was astonished that someone could do so — he had thought his dick was too big to swallow completely. Tuck howled, gyrating his hips up to slam his dick into Rob’s throat, as Rob’s nose became squashed in the wild untamedness of Tuck’s crotch
He took off his pads and compression shirt finally, glad to bare his chest in the relatively cool air of the locker room. It was actually warm and humid in here, but he was still overheated from the game, so it felt good to take the last of his clothes off. His bare skin prickled and his cock tobbed in Rob’s mouth.
Now he wore only his athletic socks and a pair of cleats, plus his elbow- and knee-pads that he had never taken off. He didn’t want to lay all the way back on the bench, but the more Rob swallowed, the more he couldn’t resist.
He found himself on his back, barely balanced on the narrow bench. Sweat tricked down his face but was stopped by the grease-paint he still wore. He gripped Rob’s head and held on tight, even lifting his trunk-like thighs up to pin Rob in place.
“Shit, baby, swallow it, goddamn!” Tuck exclaimed.
When Rob pulled off, he had to tap Tuck on the belly to get his attention and let go with his legs. Rob stood next to him on the bench, stroking his cock on the verge of orgasm with both hands. Tuck gasped and panted.
“C’mon, man, keep goin’, whatchoo doin’? Swallow it, okay? Don’t spit, please? Please-?”
“Sssssh, baby, you can cum wherever you want. If you wanna cum in my throat, go ahead,” Rob said, his voice a soft purr that made Tuck’s heart skip a beat. He leaned over slowly and slurped up some more sweat off Tuck’s shoulder, in the area newly opened up by the removal of his pads. Rob smiled. “But first consider this: You wanna stick it in my ass?”
Tuck’s eyes opened wide. That seemed too wild, he thought, intellectually. But his cock was already demanding he go through with it. He nodded. Again, the intellectual part of his mind said to do this in the most manly way he could think of — bending Rob over and pounding away from behind.
But Rob had other plans in mind, and Tuck was too aroused to care that much about the details. Rob spread his tiny legs wide enough to straddle Tuck’s body, and he plopped his ass on that cock as it stuck straight up from his crotch.
“Oh god-!” Tuck bucked and nearly slipped off the bench as he writhed. It felt so good it hurt, and it was awkward because he couldn’t reach for Rob’s tits like he would have when he let a girl ride him like this. Spasms of pleasure wracked Tuck’s body, making each of his muscles ripple.
Rob had already cum once, not that Tuck knew that, so his cock had been slow to get erect again. Tuck closed his eyes when he saw Rob jacking off, facing him as he slid down on Tuck’s manhood.
If he had been setting this up beforehand, Tuck thought, he’d have never agreed to this position — or probably any position — and he’d have at least made Rob turn around so Tuck didn’t have to look at Rob’s flopping, precum-glistening cock.
But he didn’t want to even stop long enough to make Rob face the other way; Tuck was too turned on to do more than murmur, “goddamn, boy, do it, shit, ride that cock, boy-!” and groan in a mixture of over-intense pleasure and pained panting. He thwacked his own head back on the bench hard enough to groan in pain.
Rob had trouble balancing when he was all the way down on Tuck’s cock. He ground himself left and right, making that incredible cock press against his prostate and send wave after wave of bliss through his veins.
They stayed like that for what they both thought was just a few minutes. But they ended only just as half-time was about to begin, and Tuck groaned in shock — they’d been going at it for more than a full quarter of the game.
“C’mon, man, we gotta hide-” Tuck bit his lip, blushing, as he got up. The faint but growing sound of a bevy of football players could beard emanating into the lokcer room.
He didn’t take his cock out of Rob’s ass. This felt too good to even think about that, and Rob was small and light and pliable and willing to do whatever it took to get cornholed, so Tuck just lifted him up in his powerful, sweat-dappled arms and dragged him away.
They made it into the supply closet only moments before the locker room filled with Tuck’s teammates. They all snickered because it smelled like cum in here, but they assumed that was from Rob jacking off over the pile of jockstraps in the corner — they always piled up their sweatiest jockstraps for Rob to play with — and they were, in part, correct.
“We’re gonna demolish those bitches!”
“They won’t score a single goddamn point, the pussies-“
“Where’d Tuck go? Prolly off fucking some slut with a mohawk and a tattooed lip-“
“Ah, remember that crazy one with the blue hair?”
Tuck wanted to go out there and tell them off for talking about him behind his back — that crazy one with the blue hair was utterly beautiful, for one thing, and she only had blue hair on Halloween — but his body was an autopilot now. He had Rob on the ground, wrapped up in his arms so he didn’t accidentally make too much noise.
But Tuck made plenty of noise, rutting and whinnying like a horse as he slammed into Rob’s ass. Rob gripped the football helmet beneath him, holding on for dear life with one hand while his other hand stroked himself off, and his ass strained to accept every inch of Tuck’s cock.
Finally, that was it. Tuck stopped for a single clarion moment, and then he pumped one more time. He sighed, moaning into Rob’s ear and even nibbling on his earlobe until Tuck remembered he wasn’t with a girl. He put Rob in a loose chokehold so he wouldn’t move or cry out loud, and Rob bit the meat of Tuck’s forearm to muffle himself.
“Shit, boy-” Tuck groaned into his ear.
Cum spurted into him, great creamy gobs of it that filled Rob up. It kept on flowing, unrelenting, wad after wad spraying into him and spreading throughout his body.
“Aaaaaah…” Rob sighed until Tuck hissed at him to shut up, even though Tuck’s heavy breathing and heaving was much louder. Rob wriggled underneath him.
But Tuck ignored that, and rested, his cock limpening in the soupy mess of Rob’s ass. He had no intention of leaving this supply closet until halftime was over, so his teammates wouldn’t see him. He did let his cock plop out of Rob’s ass though, wrinkling his nose at the foul smell of cum and ass-juice that filled the closet.
He laid back, too tired to do anything else, or even to worry about it when he realized his bare ass sat in the puddle of Rob’s cum. He’d already gotten Rob’s cum on his ass once before, and that had been fine, so he just ignored it this time.
He closed his eyes and slept while Rob licked his chest and cock clean, slurping off his own assjuice. The closet was filled with football gear, which was just fine for Rob — when he had licked Tuck clean, he played with the helmets, pads, jockstraps and footballs that covered the closet floor.
By the time the players went back out on the field, Tuck was sound asleep, and Rob curled up on his chest to sleep too.

Jocks in the Dark

Charlie and his football team threw a college party that was a bust, but it ends with Charlie playing Seven Minutes in Heaven with the stud of his dreams… and he follows it up with a nighttime sneaky bed-share that will rock his world!

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Charlie was disappointed when he got to the Halloween party. There weren’t many partygoers, just a bunch of jocks hanging out by themselves. Charlie went right to the two women, Claire and Lisa Anne, the only two who had shown up. That’s why the party was a failure: not enough women. The men had no reason to do more than sit around drinking beer and burping, because there were no women to impress or flirt with or annoy. Charlie spent most of his time at these sorts of college parties dancing with his female friends, while the other men dared each other to go talk to the girls. But there were only two women tonight.
It was while he danced with Claire and Lisa Anne that they were approached by one of the other football jocks, with an invitation to play a game.
“It’ll be a lot of fun,” said Jimmy, a tall, blond quarterback with a beery grin and broad shoulders. He was the most outgoing and popular person among the Kappas, so he was de facto in charge, or so it always seemed to Charlie — he was the team captain on the football team anyway, where Charlie was a tight end. The girls fawned over Jimmy, as they always did. He wore a toga as his Halloween costume, no doubt because it allowed him to bare his broad chest and bulging biceps. “C’mon, you’ll like it, girls,” he said pointedly, as though rather hoping Charlie wouldn’t play but unwilling to say so out loud. “Girls always like it, it’s — it’s silly, it’s just an immature little nothing… It doesn’t matter.” He blushed ran his fingers through his hair. “But you should play. The girls, you two, I mean, Claire and Lisa Anne. You’ll like it.”
“I’m in,” Charlie said, knowing perfectly well Jimmy didn’t want him to join in. Charlie wasn’t surprised by that. Jimmy only wanted the girls.
Charlie ignored his reticence, and he, with Claire and Lisa Anne, formed a small circle with a few other Kappa guys in the living room. It seemed they were about to start a game, and he wanted to be involved. The girls blushed — they had a crush on Jimmy, so they were willing to join in on whatever game he had proposed (Truth Or Dare? Spin the Bottle? Something like that, Charlie suspected). They were drunk enough to have few inhibitions.
This was at least livening up the party a little. Charlie was glad to see people laughing, instead of looking dejectedly into their beers. They all spread out in a circle in the living room, and Charlie sat next to one of his fellow football players with broad muscles and a musky smell coming from his unwashed armpits. He smelled like a jockstrap, Charlie thought. Claire and Lisa Anne had whispered something similar a few minutes ago, but they meant it as a bad thing. Charlie inhaled deeply of the scent, and he held it as long as he could.
“Seven Minutes in Heaven! Seven Minutes in Heaven! Seven Minutes in Heaven!” the jocks chanted as everyone got in a circle.
“Oh yeah-“
“Hope I get you, baby…”
“Hmm, girl, you look good enough to eat!”
Claire giggled and whispered in Lisa Anne’s ear, and whatever she said made Lisa Anne giggle as well. Claire said, “Okay, we’ll play.”
“Yeah,” Lisa Anne said, her face bright red and laughing. “You gotta go in with whoever you end up with, and that’s it. No switching or refusing after we start.”
Claire hugged Lisa Anne and kissed her on the neck, making all of the boys open their eyes wide and gawk. They giggled. “Yeah, we’ll totally do it with each other if that’s what the game says. You boys have to do the same thing though. You just might have to get each other off.”
“Hmm, hopefully…”
“That’d be so cool!”
“It’s such a turn-on!” Claire and Lisa Anne were laying it on thick, hands clutching each other. The young men who filled up the party watched with wide eyes, and they all nodded their agreement even though not a single one paid attention what they said.
With the exception of Charlie. He did listen, and he was eager to get started.
The odds were good, nearly a guarantee, that Charlie would be paired up with one of his teammates, who filled up the game. He played it nonchalant though, looking as reluctant as the others, though Charlie didn’t understand what they were reluctant about.
“So we’ll have to get each other off…”
“Man, shit, they’re gonna do girl-girl stuff!”
“They’re gonna be in a closet with the door closed…”
“So?! We can hear, dude. We’ll hear them!”
Now it was Jimmy’s turn to blush and hesitate. He ran his fingers through his thick blond hair. He looked over to his other teammates, who exchanged nervous glances. No one appeared ready to say no, however. With only two women at the party, they all were willing to do anything Claire and Lisa Anne wanted to do.
“Fine…” Jimmy said finally. He tried to make it sound like he was really fine with this, but it was apparent that it made him nervous — but there was really only a small chance that he would end up with a man. It looked like he was annoyed at having to do all this just to hook up with two girls, but he wasn’t about to fail to hook up with them. His masculine image virtually required him to
The Kappa house often settled disputes by drawing straws, so they did that again to decide who was with whom for this game: Seven Minutes in Heaven. One of the other frat brothers pulled them out, and they each took one — there were four males here and only two females, so it was apparent that (at least) two men would wind up with each other.
Jimmy prayed it would be him as he drew a long straw. He was desperate to match up with Lisa Anne. Or Claire, Jimmy didn’t care. He would give either girl seven minutes in heaven.
Claire revealed her straw first. It was short, and it matched up with Tuck, who grinned like a cocky bastard as he nodded towards the hallway closet. Him and Claire headed in that direction. Then Lisa Anne showed off her straw, a medium-length one that matched up with George’s.
That was it. That was the two girls taken. The remaining players avoided making eye contact with each other.
Charlie’s heart sped up as he looked up at Jimmy, the both of them realizing at the same time that their straws matched. The girls giggled and blushed, fawning over Jimmy, whose broad muscles twitched nervously. They laughed at his blatant anxiety, while he himself cursed his luck for not getting either of the girls. Jimmy looked more angry than disappointed. He wasn’t often told no, and he crackled with energy as though about to punch the girls for having failed to draw his straw.
The three pairs split off. Lisa Anne and George went into the pantry — which held nothing but beer — leaving the utility closet for Charlie and Jimmy. They stopped outside the door.
“We don’t have to go in there,” Charlie said. “No one will see if you don’t want to do it.”
The door at the other end of the hall opened. Claire stuck her head out. “I heard that! You agreed to play this game, bastards! You better do it!” She giggled along with herself, and in the pantry Lisa Anne giggled as well. She shouted something that was too muffled to be heard, but Charlie got the gist of it: she was demanding that Charlie and Jimmy play the game.
Jimmy opened the door and went in. Charlie followed nervously. “Seven minutes, huh?” Charlie said as he followed Jimmy in. The utility closet smelled of cleaning supplies, which were overpowering now that the door was shut. It was pitch-black in here too, so all Charlie could sense was the smell of detergent.
Then Jimmy flicked the light on. It was just a bare bulb, and it blinded Charlie at first, but then bathed the closet in warm light. Charlie was intimately aware of how close he was to Jimmy, whose football player body bulged from the Roman toga he wore. All Charlie could think about was that his hand was about an inch from Jimmy’s cock, with only a sheet separating them (Jimmy had made a big deal about not wearing any underwear under his toga).
“We don’t have to do anything,” Charlie said softly. He felt small and weak next to Jimmy, who grunted his acknowledgement. His heart fluttered. Despite his words, he hoped desperately that Jimmy would go through with it.
“That’s right,” Jimmy said. His voice was low and gruff, as though he didn’t want to be heard. His breath condensed on Charlie’s cheek. One of his hands gripped Charlie’s shoulder firmly. His hand slowly moved down Charlie’s body, then moved to his arm and finally his hand.
Charlie wished he had started drinking before this. Charlie was suddenly very nervous. Why had Jimmy come in here and now was seemingly trying to touch Charlie?
Was he trying to hold hands? Charlie was astonished to feel Jimmy’s thick fingers grab his hand. That was about the last thing Charlie expected. Jimmy didn’t seem to have any inhibitions in here.
“We’ll just wait seven minutes,” Jimmy said. He whispered, but his voice still boomed in the tiny room. He arranged Charlie’s fingers to form a tube of sorts. “We won’t do anything. Nothing… You know, nothing that counts…”
Charlie realized what was happening only about a half a second before something warm and fleshy hit his hand. It was Jimmy’s cock. It was soft and thick, and it jerked as soon as Charlie touched it. Jimmy dragged Charlie’s hand to his crotch, and Charlie sucked in his breath.
“Jimmy, I thought you-?”
“Sssh, I ain’t gonna do nothin’, man,” Jimmy said, murmuring softly like he couldn’t admit even to himself what was happening. “Just hold ya hands still. Hand stuff isn’t, y’know… anything.” He used both of his hands to keep Charlie’s wrist and fingers still, and he began slowly humping his body back and forth. His dick slid limply through Charlie’s fingers.
He had such a huge cock. More than a foot long and thicker than any Charlie had seen. He’d spied Jimmy’s manhood in the shower, but it wasn’t erect then, and Jimmy kept it covered enough that Charlie caught only brief glimpses of it. Now, of course, he couldn’t see it at all, because the utility closet was dark as night, but it throbbed in his hand, which moved of its own accord up and down Jimmy’s shaft.
Charlie’s heart thumped. He couldn’t believe he was doing this. It felt so wrong, but at the same time, right — that was the point of this game, after all. Whatever they did here in the closet wouldn’t count, and they weren’t allowed to tell anyone about it later. Once the seven minutes were up, it was supposed to be as though it had never happened.
It was just jacking off anyway. Jacking off with the handsome quarterback with dimples and broad shoulders… the brash blond god who had been haunting Charlie’s dreams since the beginning of his freshman year.
“Uh, yeah…” Jimmy said slowly. His mouth was so close to Charlie’s ears now that the sound of Jimmy’s moan made him shudder. His breath condensed on Charlie’s head, which made Charlie speed up his breathing. Jimmy was very nearly kissing him, and the aroma of his hot breath hit Charlie’s nose.
Then Jimmy’s knees buckled and went weak. He grunted. His muscular body nearly fell, and Charlie instinctively reached out for him. His free hand grabbed Jimmy’s meaty frame through the toga. Though he wasn’t strong enough to provide much support, he did grip Jimmy’s chest and try to hold him up. Jimmy just leaned against the hot water heater, however. His pecs trembled beneath the robe of his toga.
His dick pulsated and throbbed in Charlie’s hands. Charlie heard a frenzy of female giggling from the pantry, which reminded him that the others were playing this game too. It sounded like the girls were having a great time with their men. Charlie wondered if they were having sex. It sounded like it. They were at least getting to second base.
“Hey, Jimmy, why don’t you jack me off too?” Charlie said. He lowered his voice partway through because his words seemed impossibly loud, like he was shouting. “We could circlejerk…” It was apparent that Jimmy wasn’t listening. He would never have thought Jimmy would agree, but then, he had never thought Jimmy would let Charlie jack him off either, so it seemed Charlie’s preconceptions weren’t quite right.
Jimmy groaned and grunted. He bucked his hips, closing his eyes. His muscles all relaxed at once beneath Jimmy’s fingers. Then he laughed nervously. “No way. Gross, dude.” His voice was tensed and clipped despite his laughter.
Then the first drops of sticky precum hit Charlie’s hand, and he moaned. He tried to pull his hand away, but Jimmy held it in place with one hand on his wrist. Charlie grumbled. “C’mon, man, I’m jackin’ you off, you should get me off too-“
“No way, I’m the team captain. I don’t need to do that shit,” Jimmy said. That was sort of true. Jimmy was team captain, which meant he was in charge. But Coach Marshall had made it clear that part of leadership was doing the difficult stuff. He made Jimmy come to all practices and workouts, for example, even the ones that didn’t involve quarterbacks. Jimmy even scheduled field maintenance, handled the scoreboard and hired the announcers for the games.
Jimmy’s whole body shook, his muscles flexing and rippling. He trembled. His dick throbbed, and Charlie felt Jimmy’s balls crawling up in his sac.
The most arousing thing about the orgasm, Charlie thought, was the sounds Jimmy made. It wasn’t clean moaning like in a porn. It was moist, chewing-like sound, almost choking at one point, and Charlie could hear his phlegmy snorting as he shot his load.
But then he decided what was really the most arousing thing about this — Jimmy shot his load right onto Charlie’s thigh. It was sticky, creamy and hot, and he shot so much Charlie wondered if it was some kind of trick. It dripped into the black slacks he had worn as part of his vampire costume, and it soaked into the fabric. It dripped down his legs.
“Whoah,” Jimmy said with a sigh. He smiled like a cocky bastard, kissed Charlie on the cheek, then humped his dick on Charlie’s thigh. “Thanks, man,” he said, as a few final spurts of jizz jetted all the way up Charlie’s side. Cum coated his ribs, running from his armpit to his hips, and Charlie breathed a sigh of relief that turned into a moan of desire. His own hands were all over Jimmy’s powerful torso, making his pecs bounce and twitch.
The buzzer went off. That was it. Seven minutes were up, and the game was over. Charlie was disappointed. That all happened so fast, and he hadn’t gotten to do everything he wanted to. He was annoyed that Jimmy didn’t reciprocate. Now Charlie had a hardon and no way to get rid of it.
The door to the utility closet opened, and Jimmy hurried out. He blushed and pumped his biceps as though victorious, though Charlie could hear him deny that anything had happened.
“Nah, I only got hard thinkin’ of you gals, I’m savin’ up to finish you off later,” Jimmy said, while Charlie dallied in the closet to to wipe the cum off his leg. He came out smiling a few minutes later. He was surprised that none of his teammates seemed to care about what had happened — they laughed at first, asking questions, teasing — but sooner or later, they were focused on the girls again. With only two girls at the party, they were the center of attention.
In the end, nobody got the girls. Lisa Anne and Claire hung out until nearly midnight, and then that was it. This desultory Halloween party was over.
So they all just went to bed a few minutes later, sharing the house’s unused beds. Charlie was sleepy, and there seemed little point to remaining awake at the party any longer. It was clear none of the straight guys were going to mess with him any more than Jimmy already had.
Once Charlie made it into his room and got ready for bed, he heard some of the guys come home from the party — they were excited, rambunctious, bragging about the blowjobs they had gotten. Charlie could hear Jimmy’s annoyed response to them, and it gave Charlie a measure of satisfaction to know that Jimmy had hadn’t had a good night either. Jimmy had apparently hoped to get girls over here after the party.
He awoke sometime early in the morning. The first rays of sunlight were just beginning to creep into his bedroom. He didn’t know why he had awoken at first, then realized someone was in his room.
“Who’s there?”
There was no answer, but there was a flurry of movement. Before Charlie realized what was happening, Jimmy was in bed with him. His heavy body took up most of the mattress. He stank of body odor and deodorant, a melange Charlie inhaled deeply of. Jimmy’s body was firm and yet soft at the same time, and the bed they now shared was so small that Charlie had little choice but to cuddle up close to his powerful temamate.
“Hey,” Jimmy whispered. “George puked in my bed.”
“Well, sleep on the couch-“
“It’s already taken,” Jimmy said. “Sssh, don’t worry, man. I won’t hurt you. I know you want me to cornhole you, shush… Right?”
“Jimmy…”
Jimmy wrapped one of his arms around Charlie as though hugging him close. Charlie’s head was ensconced in his big muscles and his hairy armpit, and his pecs rippled beneath Charlie’s touch. A surge of desire ran through Charlie, whose dick raced to full erection before he even touched it. Jimmy brought Charlie’s hand to his chest, and Charlie instinctively played with his nipples for a few seconds before pulling away in embarrassment. He rolled over to face away from Jimmy.
“Come on, lemme just put the tip in,” Jimmy said. He spooned Charlie, hugging him even closer and wedging his bare cock between Charlie’s asscheeks.
His dick was rock-hard, throbbing. He was already humping and kissing the back of Charlie’s neck. Jimmy must have been horny to begin with. Had he woken up from a sexual dream? Something like that must be it, Charlie thought.
“Oh god, Jimmy, are you serious?” Charlie asked in a desperate whisper. “Yes, please, yes! Put it in!” He had long wanted to be cornholed, to see what it would feel like. Ever since the first time he heard about it — in a rap song — before he even knew what it was. He knew ‘ramrodding’ was something interesting, and he’d looked it up right away.
Jimmy must have taken that as a yes, because he pushed his dick in. Blistering pain hit Charlie’s asshole. It felt like he was being split open, and he roared in agony. He bit a pillow to hide the sound, and his fingers clawed at the mattress beneath him. The pain soon gave way to a flood of pleasure though, which wracked Charlie’s body.
“Sssh, I’ll make it feel better,” Jimmy said. He reached for something and produced a bottle of lube he must have brought in here with him. He squeezed out a bit and spread it over the shaft of his throbbing meat, then rubbed it around the surface of Charlie’s ass.
“Here, I’ll get you off too,” Jimmy said. His rough, callused fingers roamed over Charlie’s body until reaching his cock. He held on there for a moment as though not sure what to do with it.
Then all at once, he both gave Charlie’s dick a stroke and pushed his well-lubed cock into Charlie’s ass. Both pleasure and pain shot up Charlie’s spine. He yelped and clawed at the air around him.
Since Jimmy was so much bigger, he took up a lot of space on the bed, and he didn’t make room for Charlie. So when Charlie flailed, he nearly fell off the edge. If it weren’t for Jimmy’s powerful arms holding him in place, Charlie would have fallen right onto the floor.
He gasped as his dick got hard. Charlie was astonished at how easy it was, and how little pain he was really feeling, considering that Jimmy plowed into him hard and aggressively. The pain was definitely there, it was just subdued, overwhelmed by the pleasure emanating from his cock and even a little bit of pre-orgasmic bliss that grew in waves coming from his asshole.
Precum dribbled from his dick. That stopped Jimmy for a few seconds, as he looked at his hands with disgust, like he had no idea how precum had ended up there. But then he resumed bear-hugging Charlie from behind, using one hand to stroke him off.
The meaty sound of Jimmy’s balls slapping against Charlie’s ass rang out in the small bedroom. Charlie wondered how loud that was, and if anyone else could hear. Luckily, he thought, the other seniors were all pretty drunk. They should all be passed out by now, he hoped. Nobody could be heard moving around in the hall.
“Make some sounds like a girl,” Jimmy said. Then he modeled it, giggling at himself as he let out a high-pitched laugh.
The sensation was entirely too intense for that, as Charlie couldn’t concentrate on anything but the spasms of pleasure exploding all over his body. Jimmy’s free hand roamed over Charlie’s chest as though imagining a bounteous bosom there.
Charlie was glad to realize he was going to cum first, hoping to embarrass Jimmy. Cum flew all over Charlie’s chest, which roiled and twisted as an orgasm washed through him. The movement caused pain to reawaken in his ass, and it was precisely that sudden tightness that made Jimmy blow his load as well.
Hot semen sprayed within Charlie, who cried out loud at the sensation as his own pleasurable orgasm pumped through his veins. He writhed in Jimmy’s biceps and shuddered as Jimmy kissed the back of his head. It was thick and creamy, and Charlie felt it flowing to every inch of his insides.
At last it was over. For a moment Jimmy lay there with his limp dick throbbing inside Charlie. Even though it wasn’t moving and was a bit smaller, it was more painful now that Charlie wasn’t distracted by his own imminent orgasm. He tried to pull away but couldn’t without falling off the bed, and in any case, even the slightest movement reawakened the sensations in his backside.
“Hey, Jimmy, move over, man,” Charlie said, worried that Jimmy would fall asleep with his cock in Charlie’s ass.
But Jimmy groggily responded. He scooted back, and at last his entire rod slipped out of Charlie’s ass. A sense of overwhelming relief hit Charlie, who rolled away from the edge of the bed.
“Jimmy…” Charlie pushed at the senior’s bulky body, but it was obvious Jimmy was asleep. He wasn’t going to move. He took up pretty much the entire bed, and Charlie would only be able to sleep here by remaining ensconced in Jimmy’s muscles. He found that he liked the feeling of warm muscles quivering around him as Jimmy slept. He curled up with Jimmy, smelling his masculine scent and basking in the heat of his body. A little moan escaped from Charlie’s throat, as his hands wrapped around Jimmy’s shoulders. “Thanks,” Charlie said. “You can come sleep with me anytime.”

The Vintner

Teddy is tending bar when he meets an Italian vintner with a handsome face and a hunky body, plus a need for money that Teddy is all too happy to help with! All Giovanni has to do is give him a taste of his alpha male manhood…

Read it now as an ebook!

The Prison Guard Bottoms

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 it now as an ebook!

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.”

The Marine Bottoms

Moshe often stumbles across Marines and cadets from the nearby base, so when one of each approaches his door, he wasn’t surprised. A cadet and his drill sergeant are in desperate need of something only Moshe can provide — a chance for the studly cadet to prove his devotion by bending over, grabbing his ankles and whistling dixie while Moshe goes to town all over his alpha-male ass!

Read it now as an ebook!

Or read the whole thing here!

The Megillah was even more difficult to get right this year. Every year, Moshe found that he struggled a bit more to get the pronunciation right and to nail the rhythm of it — he didn’t speak Hebrew that well, much to his shame, and now that he no longer lived in Israel, he was losing his memory of the language. But every year during Purim, his family had him read the Megillah (that’s the same thing as the Bible’s Book of Esther and is part of the Tanakh whose recitation during the holy season of Purim is required for observant Jews; Purim is a March holiday that commemorates the Jews’s deliverance from certain genocide in the ancient Persian Empire). It was a sort of family tradition.
If Moshe had gotten married and had a child or two, his family would have had his kid begin reading the Megillah, or at least a few brief segments of it as he learned Hebrew. But Moshe had no desire for a child and seemed likely to remain a perpetual bachelor. That was exactly how he liked it.
That was why it remained his increasingly awkward duty to recite the Megillah every year.
There was a knock on the door. Moshe sighed and went to see who it was — if it was his NRA-loving, conservative neighbor with another gun-rights pamphlet, he was going to file a harassment complaint. He had promised himself that before as well, but he didn’t like to make waves, and it was always simpler just to take him at his word that he wouldn’t be back.
But it wasn’t that neighbor at all, it was the neighbor from the house on the other side, Sergeant Powers. Moshe didn’t see that much of him. He was from Camp Pendleton, the Marine Corps training facility here in San Diego. While Sergeant Powers was not exactly “nice”, he was always polite. Moshe rather liked him, certainly compared to the other neighbor.
It helped, of course, that Sergeant Powers was a big burly bear of a man, with muscles and a square jaw and so much swagger that Moshe nearly came in his pants the first time he had spied Powers lifting weights shirtless in his backyard. Today he was here, bright and early in the morning, with a younger man in tow.
The younger man was just as alluring as Powers and arguably even more sexy in a classic sense. The cadet had a Hollywood-handsome dimpled face, kind eyes and it was apparent he sported a six-pack under his t-shirt. Sergeant Powers was a bit older, with a few tinges of gray in his crewcut, and while he still had the body of a Marine, it showed notable wear and tear. The younger cadet was smooth, pert and taut, with dark hair and skin, an olive complexion and deep, dark eyes.
As Moshe opened the door, he realized the younger man looked like a cadet — he wore a crew-cut and a faded green t-shirt with short shorts, both of which appeared to be Marine Corps-issued. They were wrinkled as though he had been roused from bed early in the morning to come here.
“Shalom, Moshe,” Sergeant Powers said. He smiled. Moshe had taught him the word ‘shalom’ a few weeks ago, and now he used it every chance he got. “This is Cadet Pucci. He has a favor to ask you. May we come in?”
“Uh… I suppose,” Moshe said. He led them into his living room, where they both sat down. The situation was tense — Sergeant Powers appeared angry, enough so that Moshe wondered if he had done something wrong. Cadet Pucci, however, looked upset and guilty, as though it was he who had done something wrong. Moshe felt small and girlish in comparison to these two hulking brutes. Moshe cleared his throat. “A favor? I’m sorry, do I know you, Cadet… Antonio?”
Cadet Pucci shook his head. His face was worried, his dimples deep. He licked his lips. “Name’s Cadet Pucci, sir. I was askin’ Sarge here, man, I was-” He stopped talking and winced as Sergeant Powers cleared his throat. Cadet Pucci started again, his voice stilted and awkward. “Good morning, sir. I was hoping I could get your assistance this morning. I am a cadet at Camp Pendleton, and I need a day off-“
“The fuck you do!” Sergeant Powers barked.
Cadet Pucci again blanched and looked down at his feet. “I don’t need a day off. I want one. I’m a lazy guido bastard,” he said, looking to Powers as though expecting him to confirm it — he nodded his assent to Pucci’s words. Then Cadet Pucci continued. “I already had some leave, two weeks ago. And I met this girl. She was beautiful, you wouldn’t even believe it, she looked like, bam! She-” Cadet Pucci stopped himself, his hands fluttered by his sides like he wanted to mime out the silhouette of her body. He cleared his throat. “Well, she was hot as a frying pan, shit! And she’s moving to Georgia, so tonight is the last time I might see her. And I asked my sergeant if I could move a day of leave up. I wouldn’t even have to miss any training, I could leave at night-“
“Tell him why I said no,” Sergeant Powers said gruffly. He placed one hand on Cadet Pucci’s shoulder and squeezed.
“I… I have not always been followin’ the rules,” Cadet Pucci said. “I snuck out before. That was just to get laid though. I didn’t love that girl.”
“You don’t love any girl,” Sergeant Powers said with a scoff, like he disbelieved in the entire concept.
“I do!” Cadet Pucci said as his cheeks blushed. He looked to Moshe. “And anyway, Sergeant Powers said I had to prove I loved her and I wasn’t just after sex.”
“I may be a hardass, but I ain’t gonna stand in the way of true love,” Sergeant Powers said, mockingly wiping a tear from his eye. “Cadet Pucci skipped over a few details. He tried to sneak out for trim four times — that I know of. I caught him each time, so he been skatin’ on very thin ice for some time. He has been one mouthy fuck since the day his wop-dago ass got here.”
“So… uh,” Cadet Pucci said. “If you want… you don’t have to, sir. But, uh, if you want… we could, y’know… do stuff.” His cheeks were red as cherries now. “Like… masturbation stuff.” That made Powers snort and laugh under his breath. Cadet Pucci added, “Or like, whatever. I could do stuff — it’d be worth it to do, you know… whatever. Like cornholing.”
“What?” Moshe was shocked — he had thought Cadet Pucci was going to ask for a ride or for help finding the local girl, something like that. Sometimes cadets at the military base did that. Moshe liked to help them out when he could.
And he liked to help them out when they let him play with their dicks, which they very often did. Nobody is hornier than a Marine at boot camp. Or not yet a Marine, an almost-Marine.
“He’ll do anything you want, Moshe,” Sergeant Powers said. “I want to see how devoted he is to this girl. Plus as long as he gets his rocks off now, I’ll now he ain’t motivated by overflowing balls neither.” He looked at Cadet Pucci and nodded. “Go on, tell him.”
Cadet Pucci sighed. “I’ll… jerk you off, and you can plow me in the ass as hard as you want.” He blushed intensely. Then he took off his shirt, revealing a perfectly tapered torso and a powerful chest, which he flexed. He smiled proudly, though still shamefully, as Moshe looked on. He was splendidly muscled, his shoulders as broad as a barn, and he reeked of youth and sweat and power. Moshe’s dick was already twitching in his pants.
“I thought you’d enjoy this,” Sergeant Powers said.
Moshe nodded. This was awkward, but he certainly was not going to refuse such an incredible opportunity. He wasn’t sure how to begin, and now that he knew what was happening, he couldn’t stop himself from jumping right into it. His dick jerked to half-mast just from the realization of what was about to happen.
After a few seconds of silence, Cadet Pucci closed his eyes like he expected Moshe to get started, which was exactly what he did. Moshe dropped to his knees.
He dove into Cadet Pucci’s crotch before he could drop those shorts, which were musty, moist and sprinkled with dried salt from Cadet Pucci’s sweat. He must have been doing PT in these shorts for weeks, Moshe thought, wondering how long it had been since they were washed. It smelled like a long-time. He tasted layers of dried-in funk. His thick cock and heavy balls were cradled beneath the fabric by his Marine Corps-issued underwear. Moshe licked the bulge from top to bottom, and stuck his head between Cadet Pucci’s trunk-like thighs. Sergeant Powers laughed, either out of discomfort or glee at Cadet Pucci’s stiff-bodied anxiety.
“At attention, solider!” Powers barked. Cadet Pucci stood straight and tall, arms trembling as Moshe’s hands explored his bare upper body. His pecs twitched beneath Moshe’s fingers. Additional beads of nervous sweat appeared on his shoulders, and Moshe smeared them over his musculature.
Horniness arising from deep within and overwhelming him, Moshe wanted desperately to taste every inch of Cadet Pucci’s body and to feel his cock deep inside him. But Moshe also enjoyed topping, and he knew he’d never get a chance to top someone like this again. So he was in a quandary about how to proceed — he decided his best bet was to help Cadet Pucci relax a little by swallowing his cumload first. This would be better for everyone if Cadet Pucci were aroused too, and a virile young Marine like Cadet Pucci would surely cum quickly.
Moshe pulled down Cadet Pucci’s shorts and underwear, whistling to show his appreciation at Pucci’s big uncut cock — alphas loved it when you pretended they had some uniquely huge and wonderful cock. Pucci’s was in fact huge and wonderful, but then Moshe liked all dicks, so it wasn’t unique. Still, the smell of his rank crotch and his heavy balls made Moshe wrinkle his nose as desire flooded him, and Moshe’s dick rocketed to full erection in his pants. Without a word of warning, Moshe swallowed it to the root, as Cadet Pucci gasped and struggled to remain at attention.
“That girl worth it, Cadet Pucci?” Sergeant Powers asked. From his vantage point, Moshe couldn’t see or hear Cadet Pucci’s response, but it must have been yes, judging from the way Powers grunted back at him. Then Cadet Pucci’s entire body stiffened even more, and he yelped. Moshe saw Sergeant Powers’s hand disappearing behind Moshe’s ass.
“You got a tight ass, Cadet. That must be why all the girls like you,” Powers said. He smirked and licked his teeth as he did something with his hand that made Cadet Pucci gasp, bug out and clench his teeth tight.
He must have stuck a finger in there, Moshe realized with a sense of shock. Cadet Pucci’s toes curled and his hands tightened into fists behind his back as he submitted to the fingering. But the prostate stimulation helped him get hard too, and soon his cock was pulsating in Moshe’s mouth.
The taste of precum hit Moshe’s tongue. Above his head, he heard Sergeant Powers get close enough he was nearly kissing Moshe on the cheek. He spoke softly but with an authoritarian tenor to his voice. “That girl still worth it?” He violently rammed his finger — or maybe more than one finger, Moshe couldn’t see — in and out of Cadet Pucci’s juicy asscheeks. Cadet Pucci yelped and blushed, and for a moment he wasn’t at attention, he was leaning on Moshe’s shoulder, his knees buckling as pain and prostate pleasure alike rocketed up his spine.
“Yes,” Cadet Pucci said through gritted teeth. His muscles undulated in sync with his sergeant’s finger ramming into his asshole. His muscles all flexed every time he winced. He bit his lip. “I have to see her this weekend. I love her. Sir.”
Moshe stood and took off his own clothes. He felt tiny next to these two hulking men. Moshe was short, fair-haired and smooth-bodied, lean and trim. He had always been skinny, and though he had been working on bulking up, he simply didn’t have the body type to get big. That was very much unlike Cadet Pucci, whose broad body and fat cock seemed to take up all of the space in this room.
“Gimme one of your hands, Cadet Pucci,” Moshe said as authoritatively as he could muster. Sergeant Powers chuckled at the weak tenor of his voice, and he repeated the order.
“Give ‘im a hand, Cadet Pucci.”
Cadet Pucci did so, gingerly placing his hand on Moshe’s cock. He shrank back as soon as he touched it, as though he had never touched a hard dick before. Then he gripped it again and gave it a tentative stroke.
Moshe had to stand on his toes to kiss Cadet Pucci on the lips, which he did even as Cadet Pucci kept his face straight and stony, so it was like kissing a warm statue. Moshe’s tongue pushed into Pucci’s mouth — on one level, it was a bad kiss, Pucci’s tongue was limp and still like a dead rooster, but on the other level, it was warm and nervous and oh-so-macho. Moshe didn’t mind the lack of passion, as he rather enjoyed the roughness of Pucci’s fingers and the shamefully aroused passion of his body, which still stood at attention. He wasn’t even really stroking Moshe’s cock anymore, he just held onto it loosely while Moshe humped his manhood into Cadet Pucci’s grip. It took all of Pucci’s focus to remain at attention with Sarge’s finger in his tight ass and Pucci’s own hand on Moshe’s precum-soaked cock.
Then Moshe leapt into Pucci’s arms and mounted his chest. Cadet Pucci grunted in surprise and nearly fell over, but he was strong enough to support Moshe even without preparing for it first. He looked down in shock at the sight of Moshe’s hard dick on Pucci’s gym-toned torso, spewed precum over his six-pack abs.
Scooting up Pucci’s trunk-like chest, Moshe let his dick rest between those mountainous pecs, which were still hard from the tension and the pain in his ass. Now that his head was over Pucci’s body, Moshe could see Sergeant Powers’s cruel smile as he wedged a second finger into Pucci’s asshole. His cheeks jiggled marvelously.
Using Pucci’s head for support, Moshe climbed up even farther, until his crotch was right in Pucci’s face. His dick leaked fluids over his nose and cheeks, and Cadet Pucci trembled as he tried hard to avoid gagging.
“This still worth it, Cadet?”
“Sir, yes, sir.” Pucci’s voice was pinched and strained, and muffled by the cockshaft pulsating against his lips. He gagged as the taste of cock flooded his senses.
Moshe struggled to get his dick into Pucci’s mouth from this angle. He had to angle his hips outward, and Cadet Pucci had to support his ass with both hands, but when he did, Cadet Pucci swallowed his entire cock easily. He was a big man, so he had a big throat. Even as it spasmed and choked on the flavor, and Cadet Pucci blushed intensely, he let Moshe’s dick enter his throat. He swallowed it down deep, until his nose was nestled in Moshe’s crotch.
A moan escaped from Moshe’s lips, as Antonio gagged. Cadet Pucci had that thick lustrous dark hair that Italian men were known for. It was cut into a short Marine Corps crew-cut, but it was obvious that he had perfect politician’s-hair when he let it grow out. Moshe gripped his head, savoring the rolls of flesh in the back of his scalp as he shoved his dick down the man’s spasming throat.
From this vantage point, Moshe saw Sergeant Powers’s hand in Pucci’s ass. He smiled at Moshe, who threw his head back and moaned, and Sergeant Powers slowly worked a second finger in. Cadet Pucci bucked and he nearly fell over again, but managed to stay standing, despite the series of gags wracking his throat.
“Keep at attention, Cadet!”
It didn’t take very much for Moshe to feel his orgasm coming. He didn’t want to end like this, without plowing Cadet Pucci in the tight Italian ass, so he hopped down from the man’s shoulders. Pucci’s entire face was moist with precum and his own saliva, which dripped from his lips — he couldn’t wipe his face off without breaking his posture, so he remained there with his wrinkled-nose face shiny, manfluids running in rivulets down his square jaw.
“Gimme twenty!” Moshe said, and after a moment’s hesitation to consider whether to obey, Cadet Pucci dropped to the ground.
He began doing push-ups, counting them off as Sarge put one hand on his bare back to guide him. As he did so, Moshe mounted Pucci’s ass, just wedging his dick between the cheeks for now. Antonio struggled to keep going with the push-ups now that he had Moshe’s weight on his back. His firm back muscles flexed beneath Moshe’s smooth body.
“One!” Sergeant Powers said as he watched Cadet Pucci struggle to get his push-ups right. “I ain’t countin’ these granny-push-ups, Cadet. Do ’em properly!”
Cadet Pucci began doing push-ups much more slowly with Moshe’s weight on his back. He grunted and heaved with each motion. His powerful biceps worked up and down.
“C’mon, Cadet, don’t give up!” Sergeant Powers barked. He got on his knees right in front of Pucci’s face and demanded he keep going. Pucci’s back muscles strained, covered in sweat.
As Cadet Pucci struggled to finish his push-ups, Moshe again had to work on his angle so he could penetrate the cadet. He lowered his body until his cock lined up with Pucci’s ass, then he managed to get the tip of his dick in while still resting his body on Pucci’s ass. Instantly, Cadet Pucci dropped to the floor, gritting his teeth with pain. He squirmed there.
“Get up, Cadet! You fuckin’ pussy! If you can’t finish these push-ups, I swear to Christ you’ll never do a push-up without a cock in your ass again!”
Cadet Pucci struggled back to supporting himself on his arms and legs, while Moshe worked his dick in deeper, rocking his body back and forth to help it slide in. Pucci’s hole had been loosened a bit by Sarge’s fingers, but it was still so tight Moshe though he might cum from the moment he entered. The squeeziness of his booty sent waves of pleasure to crash through Moshe’s twink frame.
“He keepin’ hisself open how you want it, Moshe?” Sergeant Powers asked.
“Yeah, Sarge,” Moshe said. “He’s doin’ good.” That was when Moshe noticed that Powers had a bulge in his shorts too. Moshe reached for that bulge without giving it a second thought, and blushed when Sergeant Powers smiled.
“Stick it in me…” Moshe said, his voice weak and breathless as he worked to hold back his orgasm. He stopped moving with his cock all the way in Pucci’s ass, letting it throb there,
Powers grinned. He smacked Pucci’s ass and laughed at how the motion made him writhe and flex every muscle on his powerful body. Then Sergeant Powers got behind Moshe and pulled his shorts down.
He rammed his dick in hard and grunted as it melted right in. Moshe was well-practiced at taking huge cocks like his — and at taking Powers’s cock specifically — so he gritted his teeth and submitted to it. He dug his nails into Pucci’s broad back as he loosened himself up. He lost himself in the exquisite sandwich of Marine meat both in front and behind him.
Cadet Pucci stopped doing push-ups. Nobody was counting anymore, but Moshe was fairly sure he had hit at least twenty — though Sergeant Powers had refused to count many of them. Regardless, Cadet Pucci lay flat on the ground now, grunting with every thrust of Moshe’s dick and yelping when Powers thrust into Moshe, which forced Moshe to penetrate Cadet Pucci even harder.
Moshe felt like a bug being squashed between two large stone statues. Powers, however, was a bit soft — he was bigger than Cadet Pucci, but older, hairier and less perfectly etched. Moshe was fine with that. While he certainly appreciated the Hollywood-handsome good lucks of Cadet Pucci, he enjoyed the burly hairiness of Sergeant Powers as well.
As Moshe neared orgasm, he rested his face in Pucci’s broad, sweat-covered back. He licked his strapping muscles. Above him, Powers did much the same, resting his weight partially on his knees but also on Moshe. That put Powers’s head above Moshe and near Pucci’s ruddy, wincing face.
“You like this, Cadet?”
“Sir, no, sir!”
“Good,” Powers said. He laughed as he licked Pucci’s earlobe, making Cadet Pucci shudder in humiliation and agony. Moshe managed to get one of his hands under Pucci’s body, and was surprised to feel a rock-hard cock — he must really enjoy prostate stimulation, Moshe thought. He stroked Pucci’s dick the best he could, and Cadet Pucci began humping his hips instinctively.
“Tell me when you feel cum in yer ass,” Sergeant Powers said. When Cadet Pucci winced and looked away, he repeated himself. “I wanna cum at the same time. So tell me.”
It looked like Cadet Pucci didn’t want to acknowledge the feeling of semen in his ass, but he nodded anyway. As Moshe felt his orgasm approach, Powers lifted both Cadet Pucci and Moshe, so all three were on their knees. Moshe was still sandwiched between the huge men on both sides of him, and Moshe barely even moved himself, allowing both men’s powerful bodies to provide all the motion. Moshe just licked and sucked on the taut muscles all around him.
In the end, Cadet Pucci acknowledged it even before Moshe had realized he was cumming. His orgasm washed over his body and made him shudder with delight. His spine was wracked by exquisite pain from his ass, which mingled with the pleasure he felt all over. Hot cum sprayed within Pucci’s asshole.
Then, a few seconds later, both Cadet Pucci and Sergeant Powers shot their own load. Powers had a huge wad that sunk into every corner of Moshe’s body, while Cadet Pucci bucked and gagged when he shot his load into the palm of Moshe’s waiting hand.
While all three dicks limpened, Moshe raised his handful of steaming cum to Pucci’s mouth. Cadet Pucci gagged again, and winced, still in pain from Moshe’s dick in his ass.
“Open your mouth, Cadet,” Sergeant Powers said. “Still worth it?”
Cadet Pucci opened his mouth. “Absolutely worth it, Sarge.” Moshe emptied the cumload into Pucci’s mouth, and sighed as Pucci’s ass clenched around his cock once more. Cadet Pucci choked and gagged down every drop.
And then it was at last over. Powers dismounted Moshe, who pulled away from Pucci’s naked, moist body. Cadet Pucci collapsed onto the ground, but only for a moment before Sergeant Powers barked at him to get up.
“Up, Cadet, at attention!”
Pucci’s ass was in terrible pain, so his knees buckled, but he managed to stand at attention. His limp dick hung between his legs. Moshe giggled as he stroked it and got a few nervous shakes from Pucci’s body, tensing his muscles again as his overly sensitive dick throbbed in Moshe’s fingers.
Moshe smiled. “I guess his love is true, Sarge,” he said.
Sarge nodded. “I sure thought he’d back out,” he said. “Alright, Cadet Pucci, you can have your leave, and I won’t charge you for conduct unbecoming.”
Cadet Pucci gasped. “Thank you, Sergeant Powers,” he said, then added, “And Moshe, thank you too.” He cleared his throat. “Perhaps when I want an extra night off in the future-“
“Absolutely-” Moshe said, but was interrupted by Sergeant Powers.
“No way, Cadet. Next time, you submit to me,” Powers said with a grin.

Humping the Enforcer

Avery has to pay protection money to the mafia, but when the don comes by too, Avery is given a gift that just won’t stop giving! He gets to do what he wants to the crude enforcer Joey, who has muscles and swagger and not a lot of brains.

The don is frustrated by Joey’s idiocy, which gives Avery a chance to explore another episode in the world of Twink on Top!

Read it now as an ebook!

Or read the whole thing here!

When Avery Flowers saw Joey at the door of his shop, he felt the usual surge of feelings: fear, annoyance, rage and a dash of arousal, since Joey had an alluring and arousing physique.
But this time, the mafia enforcer Joey Rizzoli was accompanied by a stout older man in a fine suit.
That older man kept a faint grin, and he stopped to look at the flowers on the counter. Joey, as usual, stone-faced, sturdy as a chair. He looked vaguely displeased at everything, even the flowers that filled the store.
Avery sighed. Running a florist shop in Little Italy in New York meant he had to pay protection money to the Mafia. He had been doing it since before the shop even opened. Today was the fourth of the month, making it Joey Rizzoli’s regular day to collect a payment.
The money was in an envelope hidden in the register. Avery made sure to put it there this morning. He liked to tease Joey, who was gruff, mean and macho, riddled with muscle and bravado. He had a temper and a cocky attitude, but he was barred by Mafia rules from hurting anyone who paid proper protection money. That meant Avery could flirt with him, squeeze his biceps, repeatedly ask him out on a date as if Joey was a slutty woman, and Joey just accepted it like an awkward statue made of frowns. He occasionally growled and flexed his pecs beneath the ill-fitting suit he always wore.
But Avery had no idea who the portly older man was at first. That changed when the man took off his hat and spoke — this is the Don! Don Caprinelli! Avery gasped and bit his own lip.
“Good afternoon, Mister Flowers,” the stout man said. “My name is Tranquillo Caprinelli.”
“Yo, you should address him as Don Caprinelli,” Joey cut in, barking at Avery as though he had been disrespectful already.
Don Caprinelli held a hand up to silence Joey, whose crude yet handsome face scrunched up. The Italian flag tattoo on his neck stretched when he tightened his visage. He wrinkled his nose at Avery, and his broad shoulders expanded as he took a deep breath. From their body language, Avery gathered that the Don often told Joey to take a deep breath and calm down and that Joey was annoyed every time he said it.
“It’s nice to meet you, Don Caprinelli,” Avery said. He bowed his head respectfully.
“My daughter’s wedding is this month, Mister Flowers,” he said in a smooth voice like melted caramel, “And in recognition of that joyous day, I am asking that you spend the money you would normally pay for Caprinelli security services. Spend it on yourself or on the charity of your choosing, and have a joyous month.” He smiled.
“Oh! Okay, thank you, Don Caprinelli-“
“Do not mention it, and as always, you and your beautiful shop here remain under my protection for the entire month. And the usual perks at the Hotel Sweet,” he said with a smile. He shook Avery’s hand.
“Oh… thank, you, that’s… the Hotel Sweet?” Avery had no idea what that meant. The Hotel Sweet was a rundown motel down the street. It was known as a hotbed of prostitution.
“He doesn’t… Don, he, uh… has never been interested,” Joey said. He stammered like he had done something wrong, and when Don Caprinelli shot him a quizzical look, he looked down and bit his lip.
Don Caprinelli turned to Avery, looked at him with shock in his eyes, then examined him head to toe. He nodded in realization.
“Yeah, sorry,” Avery said. “I’m not into anything down at the Hotel Sweet… Unless Joey ever hangs out there.” He smirked as Joey, who, predictably, blushed. His glowering face looked down at his feet, then glanced at the flowers as though he was suddenly very interested in petunias.
“He does not spend time at the Hotel Sweet…” Don Caprinelli smiled, then spoke quickly with Joey in Italian. Joey let out a laugh as they talked — the first time he had laughed in all the time Avery knew him. Their conversation sounded like a negotiation to Avery. Joey continued to laugh, nervously, with many cautious glances towards Avery. He kissed the crucifix around his neck. Don Caprinelli’s Italian was fluid and rhythmic, while Joey’s was halting and sounded like mispronounced English.
“Ten minutes,” Joey said softly — another first: the first time he ever sounded less than totally confident. He had been collecting extortion money from Avery for years and never showed any hesitance or uncertainty about what to do.
“What-?”
“I have worked out a deal. I give all the businessmen who pay me a free weekly visit to one of the ladies at the Hotel Sweet. Since Joey failed to offer you anything as a substitute for that perk, he has agreed to give you ten minutes with him. You may do anything you wish to Joey for ten minutes,” Don Caprinelli said.
Joey spoke with that thick New York-Italian stawk that had always turned Avery on so good. “No stickin’ it in.” He looked down at his feet yet again when Don Caprinelli clucked his tongue and shot him a harsh look.
“Uh… what?”
“You can… like… gimme a handjob, or whatever. No penetration,” he said. He sniffed and pushed past Avery into the backroom, Avery’s office. Joey’s heavy body barely fit in the doorway, and Avery felt a surge of body heat and intense desire as Joey’s suited muscles brushed past him. Joey called back to Don Caprinelli, saying something in Italian.
Don Caprinelli chuckled. “He is afraid you will hold him down and cornhole him-“
“That ain’t what I said!”
“I tell him you are three times the boy’s size, Joey, you can overpower him if he tries to cornhole you,” Don Caprinelli said. He smiled and followed into the backroom. “I will not watch, but I will stand at the doorway.”
Avery turned to enter the office, still trying to comprehend what, exactly, was happening, Was Joey really letting him give a handjob? Joey stood there in front of him, scowling, with his arms across his chest. He filled out that suit nicely; it looked even better on him than a nicer suit would have, Avery thought, the undersized shirt and oversized jacket making him look like the world’s meanest high-schooler getting ready for an away game.
“No poop or pee neither,” Joey said. “And no putting cigarettes out on me. And no farting.” He threw his hands in the air. “No puttin’ it in!”
“In where? By whom?”
“Any hole. Anyone, man,” Joey said. “Just gimme a handjob or whatever.”
“Oh, I think I can get more creative than that,” Avery said. He smiled as Don Caprinelli chuckled behind him. He quickly stripped off his clothes.
Joey snickered at Avery’s small body, pale skin and weak muscles. “How old are you, man?”
“I’m twenty-four.”
“You look like you’re about twelve. Gonna feel like I’m lettin’ a little boy grope me up,” he said.
“You’re exaggerating, I don’t even get carded for cigarettes. I just have a youthful, girlish glow,” Avery said. His dick was out, and he tried not to feel self-conscious — not about his cock size, which was ample, just that he was so much smaller than Joey.
Joey didn’t look like he bought into Avery’s defense. He faced away as Avery unbuttoned his shirt. It was cute to see Joey nervous for the first time after he had been extorting money from Avery for years. Avery slowly stripped off Joey’s suit and suit.
He kissed his nipples beneath the tight a-shirt he wore. Joey’s pecs rippled, sending a thrill up Avery’s spine. His hands roamed over Joey’s muscled side, which made Joey twitch out of either anxiety or ticklishness or a bit of both.
Then Avery pulled the t-shirt off Joey’s body — or he lifted it up, anyway, Joey was too tall for Avery to actually take it all the way off. Joey removed it himself. He had a broad chest and a nearly flat belly, with just a hint of meat there. Avery’s mouth moved down to that belly, licking the trail of black hairs there leading down past his belly button.
He undid the belt holding up Joey’s slacks. Joey let out a strange sort of mewling sound as Avery dropped his pants, then pulled down the plain tight white boxers he wore.
His massive cock sprung forth. Avery gasped and smiled at Joey’s cocky grin. He must have liked showing off his big dick.
Don Caprinelli clucked his tongue. “You like his monster, huh? That’s the difference between ‘fairy’ men and girls. Girls run screaming from it-“
“No, they don’t, Don, that happened one time,” Joey said with a hangdog look. “One girl walked away because she said it was too big.”
Avery stroked his shaft, slowly at first, as Joey spoke. Then he sped up, as Joey’s face went from annoyed to surprised at how aroused he was. He looked down at his dick as though he had never seen it get hard before. Its long shaft throbbed beneath Avery’s grasp.
“And Anita?” Don Caprinelli said, snickering from the doorway, where he remained, still facing away from the scene.
“She didn’t see it-“
“She saw you. She said he looks like a caveman. I bring him a girl to bed, as a present for his years of loyal service, and he acts like a goon-“
“Don Caprinelli…” Joey’s voice turned into a moan as his dick pulsated in Avery’s hand.
“Shut up, you embarrassed me. The sissy probably understands girls. Maybe he can help you avoid the same fate if I ever bring you another girl,” Don Caprinelli said.
Avery smiled, stroking Joey faster and faster. Joey’s muscles rippled and he closed his eyes like he was ready to cum. Avery wasn’t ready to let that happen, but he liked seeing Joey prepare for it. He chewed on his lower lip, and his biceps flexed as he flailed his arms, too embarrassed to touch either Avery or himself at the moment.
“I’m no expert in women. They’re mystifying to me too,” Avery said, hands working hard at Joey’s cock. “Virtually any girl could dress like a slut and get all the big hairy macho men to bang them, but almost none of them do that. That doesn’t make any sense to me. If I was a girl, I’d be such a cheap lay. I’d suck your dick every day, Joey, I’d let you and all your buddies demolish me.”
Joey chuckled dryly, like he wanted to laugh harder but was too distracted by his dick leaking precum into Avery’s hand. Don Caprinelli guffawed from the doorway, laughing so hard he bent over and slapped his own thigh.
He let go of Joey’s cock. Joey’s eyes bugged out, and he flexed his hips, humping the air. His muscles twitched again, and he let out an involuntary growl. It seemed he wanted Avery to continue jacking him off, but he didn’t want to admit that because Don Caprinelli would hear him.
Avery walked around Joey, and his heart skipped a beat when he saw his ass. It was thick and plump, but firmer than Avery thought possible. Joey was tall enough that Avery had to reach up to massage those round cheeks, which were as hard as overinflated volleyballs — it was clear that Joey was tense, which was part of the reason his flesh was hard, but it was also clear that Joey’s ass was simply bursting with strength.
“Will you bend over?” Avery asked.
“You can’t put nothin’ in my ass!”
“I won’t,” Avery said. He lightly caressed the strapping muscles of Joey’s back. He felt Joey sigh through his spine, then Joey bent over and grabbed his ankles.
That position forced his asscheeks to separate, revealing his hairy hole. But as much as Avery wanted to stick his fingers and tongue (and everything else) in there, it was clear Joey wouldn’t cotton to that. So Avery just massaged the hairy crack of Joey’s ass, then had him bend his knees until he was crouched.
Avery hadn’t really known where he was taking this until he saw Joey in that position, his great, hairy trunk-like thighs pressed close together. Avery stripped off his own clothes while both Joey and Don Caprinelli were facing away from him.
Then he lined up behind Joey’s crouching body. Joey winced and trembled when he felt Avery’s cock pushing into his back, but Avery made sure to wrap his fingers around Joey’s cock first. Joey sighed and forced his muscles to relax as his dick re-hardened beneath Avery’s grasp.
“Damn, fairy… what is this?” He asked.
Avery didn’t answer. He pushed his dick lower still, through the tangle of coarse black hairs on Joey’s thighs. Joey didn’t even seem to notice as Avery’s dick slipped between his legs and poked out below his crotch.
Since Joey was crouched over but was much taller than Avery, the simplest position was for Avery to kneel behind him. He wrapped his arms around Joey’s broad body, his left hand straining to reach Joey’s nipples while his right stroked Joey off.
“Uh, oh…” Joey realized Avery’s dick was between his thighs. He cleared his throat. “Don Caprinelli… Is it… a sin if you… If uh, his… dick is uh, not in me, but…-“
“Then no, Joey, please spare me the details. Don’t let him put it in a hole. That is what the Church teaches,” Don Caprinelli said. He kept his face angled well away. “Is the little fairy hurting you?”
“No!” Joey said.
“Then it is fine. You can stop him if you wish. I would give you a girl instead, but you would only scare her away,” Don Caprinelli said. “You should develop some culture and sophistication, Joey.”
Joey hung his head and sighed. It was obvious he had heard this lecture many times before. “Yes, Don.”
“I brought him to the symphony, Mister Flowers,” Don Caprinelli said. “He fell asleep. I pay for his tuxedo and for a girl to sit next to him, and he falls asleep. He snores so loud the oboist dropped his instrument in the third movement-“
Avery snorted and held back laughter.
“He tells the girl he prefers hot air balloons-“
“I like Led Zeppelin!”
“I tell you, he is a caveman. I have never been more mortified, Mister Flowers,” Don Caprinelli said. He still faced the other way in the door threshold, so he didn’t see Avery dry-humping Joey’s thighs.
Avery thought it was a funny story, but the funniest aspect was how embarrassed Joey was. He had always looked uncomfortable in the suit he wore to extort Avery, but now it was obvious how humiliated he was by his lack of class. Joey’s face burned a bright red, and his thighs tensed, squeezing Avery’s cock.
The increase in tightness sent a shiver of sexual pleasure up Avery’s spine. He began humping harder and faster, and he reached around to Joey’s long cock with both hands.
“It smells like a brothel in there,” Don Caprinelli said. He wrinkled his nose. “It smells like Hotel Sweet.”
But Avery was too aroused to answer, and Joey was either too tense, too horny or too embarrassed. He grunted, nostrils flaring as his ass puckered, its iron-hard globes pressed against the smooth, slim flesh of Avery’s torso.
Joey slowly leaned forward. It didn’t seem he was really aware he was doing it, at least not until he was on his belly, where Avery couldn’t jack him off anymore because his dick was jammed against the floor.
But that allowed Avery to crawl atop Joey’s back. He was so much shorter than Joey that his face pressed into the center of Joey’s back, which was dappled with sweat and a few stray black hairs. Avery licked him while Joey growled, out of either discomfort or desire or even ticklishness again, it wasn’t clear which.
Meanwhile Avery slammed his dick in and out of Joey’s thigh. It really did feel exactly like cornhole a man in the ass, Avery thought, just without the hole — the thighs felt like an asscrack, so Avery felt like he was ramming his dick between asscheeks.
And that thought gave him an idea. He crawled up Joey’s body until his cock throbbed in between Joey’s cheeks. Then he humped the hot, sweaty groove there, his dick pulsating against the tight rim of Joey’s asshole.
“Nope, nope,” Joey said after just a few seconds. He rolled over, pushing Avery onto the ground beside him. “I ain’t doing that, fairy.”
“Joey-!” Don Caprinelli snapped.
“I’m sorry, Don, he was trying to-“
“You can simply be more polite. This is why girls run in terror from you,” Don Caprinelli said.
“He ain’t a girl-“
“Politeness is mandatory, Joey.”
Joey sighed and shook his head. “Mister Flowers, I… You best not… I mean… I would prefer you did not… touch my, uh… You know… Back there… My… I don’t know the polite word for it, Don.”
“Anus,” Avery said with a giggle. The word made Joey chuckle too, like a little boy laughing at a fart joke.
Avery wasn’t surprised that Joey had backed out of the ass-humping. But now he was laying on his back on the floor, his rock-hard dick sticking straight up. Avery mounted his thighs and pressed his dick right next to Joey’s.
Joey’s body remained stiff and hard, almost as rock-solid as his dick, which pulsated hotly in Avery’s fingers as he jacked them both off together. His other hand tweaked Joey’s nipples, and caressed his broad shoulders. Joey’s chest was once again hard, the tension making it impossible for him to relax his muscles.
When the first few drops of precum lubricated Avery’s hand, he realized Joey wasn’t going to let this continue for long. Joey heaved and gasped for breath as though he was terrified of how aroused he was. It was his dick producing the precum, but Avery thought he shouldn’t point that out or risk angering Joey.
Avery instead lowered his body until he could once again stick his dick between Joey’s thighs. This time he was on Joey’s front side, so his face nestled in Joey’s chest, between his mountainous pecs. Joey’s dick dug into Avery’s flesh above his crotch.
Then Avery’s rod plunged between those thighs, reawakening Avery’s arousal and making his shaft spasm. He gasped and even lightly nibbled on Joey’s skin, which made him twitch and bark.
“Hey! Don Caprinelli, he’s trying to eat me!” Joey said like a boy tattling on his friend.
Don Caprinelli snorted. Avery didn’t see Don Caprinelli glance over with a sick look on his face, because Avery was slamming his dick up and down between Joey’s thighs. Joey’s dick throbbed and leaked precum onto Avery’s belly and chest.
“It is fine. It is dry-humping,” Don Caprinelli said. “Or it is humping, at least. I do not think he is a cannibal.”
Then a potent orgasm began, deep within Avery, who only dimly heard Joey sigh and mutter to himself. Avery gasped and threw his head back. Joey looked down at him from his reclining position, eyes wide like he had no idea where this was ending up. He watched in horror as bliss wracked Avery’s body, and Avery buried his face in Joey’s mafia-tatted chest.
Meanwhile Avery’s whole body spasmed and roiled atop Joey’s powerful frame. He rammed his dick back and forth as he licked and sucked hickeys onto Joey’s pecs. His dick spewed cum down onto the floor, making a big mess on the backside of Joey’s thighs and ass.
“Oh god, he’s doin’ it…”
Avery felt the most intense pleasure of his life rolling through him. He writhed and moaned into Joey’s body, his spine arching as the orgasm overwhelmed his body. By the time he was done, his skin was dripping with sweat, both his own and Joey’s.
He lifted his head. Joey was still rock-hard, with a vaguely nauseated look on his face, and Avery gripped his dick with both hands. He rubbed it against his smooth chest, intending to get Joey off that way, but then Joey got his attention.
Joey pulled lightly on his hair until Avery looked up at him, still gasping from his own post-orgasmic pleasure. He made a shushing face, then grasped an imaginary penis in front of his face. He pretended to jack it off, using his tongue to push against his cheeks.
“Damn, you one nasty fairy…”
Avery was still recovering from the aftershocks of his orgasm, so he was confused at first. After a moment, he realized what Joey was asking for — they both glanced up at Don Caprinelli, who faced the other way with his arms across his chest. He gave no indication he realized that Joey’s actions and his words were no longer quite linked.
That was interesting, Avery thought, he had assumed that Joey didn’t want to do anything and Don Caprinelli had talked him into it. Now it seemed that Joey’s reluctance was, at least in part, a show for Don Caprinelli’s benefit — maybe Joey had only been unpleasant about it because Don Caprinelli would punish him for being enthusiastic.
Without a peep, Avery lowered his head until he could swallow Joey’s dick. He tasted that salty cocktip, precum flowing like water from a tap as Joey’s aroused body spasmed. But it only lasted a moment: Joey must have been on the verge of orgasm already. From the moment Avery’s lips encircled his dick, cum throbbed in his thick shaft, and his balls crawled up in his sac.
By the time Avery managed to get his mouth all the way down the first two-thirds of Joey’s dick, his tongue slathering spit along the piss-slit, Joey had gripped his head. He sneered at Avery like he was punishing him for the puddle of cum Joey now sat in, and he slammed Avery’s head down on his dick.
“Hurry up and finish, fairy-“
“Be nice, Joey. Let him take his time,” Don Caprinelli snapped at him. “You have forgotten all the manners I have been teaching you.”
Joey threw his head back, but he had to suppress making any sound beyond a vague, quiet grunt. Avery could imagine how girls were scared of him if this was how he made love, Avery thought, but he didn’t say so because his mouth was full.
A hot load of cum sprayed into Avery’s mouth. It was creamy and sweet, thick like yogurt, and it coated Avery’s tongue and throat. It slipped down into his gullet as Joey made harsh, violent love to Avery’s face. Avery gagged involuntarily; as soon as he did, he realized he had attracted Don Caprinelli’s attention.
“Joey!” Don Caprinelli snapped. He had turned around, and he saw what was happening.
Joey winced and pulled away. He hurried to his feet as Don Caprinelli glowered at him. Cum still dripped from his cocktip as he tucked his dick away and blushed.
“Sorry, Don. The fairy seduced me-“
“Do not blame it on the fairy. He did what is only natural to him,” Don Caprinelli gripped Joey by the hair and pulled his head down to the level where they could look each other in the eye. It was arousing to watch for Avery, who cleaned cum off his face as it unfolded — once again, Joey was forced to submit to someone much smaller than him. Don Caprinelli shook his head with disgust. “I do not wish to have such depravity in my organization.”
“I’m sorry, Don.”
“Yes, you are,” Don Caprinelli said. He let go of Joey’s hair. “Now put your clothes on. We will go home now.” He turned to Avery and nodded politely. “Thank you for making loyal payments these last few years. You have been such an aid to my organization.”
“Uh, yeah… Thank you, Don Caprinelli,” Avery said. “For keeping my business safe.”
He nodded again. He pushed Joey towards the bathroom. “Clean yourself off, beast. I think you can please Mister Flowers every month from now on, Joey. Perhaps you will learn your manners that way.”

Roughnecks Got Oral Needs!: Chapter 3

Roughnecks Got Oral Needs!: Chapter Three

Roughnecks Got Oral Needs!

Chapter One: Tusslin’

Chapter Two: The Sandwich

Chapter Three: Vaccination

Chapter Three: Vaccination

This time, Mason sought out Buck, who lived with Lem in that dead end at the end of a corridor on the rig. This rig was built for more workers than there were — lots of the job had been automated in recent years — so whole wings were no longer used. Mr. Chow said they could bed down wherever they wanted. Buck and Lem chose a corridor that dead-ended at a disused room. They claimed everything from the intersection with another corridor to the dead-end, and they used the extra room for storage. The dead-end was curtained off with sheets and done up with extra mattresses, pillows and space heaters.
“Knock, knock, guys,” Mason said. He tapped the sheet being used as a curtain. A mat lay right there, like a welcome mat but Mason knew Lem well enough to know it’s real purpose — there were peanut shells under the mat. Lem and Buck stepped over the mat when coming in and out of the dead-end. If anybody snuck in when they were gone, the shells would be smashed under the mat, and they’d know someone had been there without permission. Mason stepped over the mat.
“C’m’in!” Buck said.
“Unless’n you is Jean or them!” Lem said. His voice was pinched and tense — Lem was always hostile to the other roughnecks, whom he was certain conspired to steal from him at every turn. Back when he drank, he stayed convinced they were stealing his liquor. That was true, they did steal liquor. That was a constant source of conflict on rig. Cigarettes too. Lem was unreasonably paranoid about it though.
Mason opened the curtain and came in. The smell of shower sandals and recent soap filled his nostrils. Buck and Lem stood there like Mason had walked in on them doing something wrong.
They were swordfighting in the center of their living space.
Their soft dicks dangled afront them, but it was clear they had been swinging ’em at each other just a second ago. Both men’s hips were angled towards each other, underwear around their ankles. Wry grins popped up on both Buck and Lem. Both men’s bare asses were still dappled with shower water.
Mason stopped short, unable to tear his eyes from their bared crotches. Buck’s cock was huge, and Lem’s was knobbly and darker-skinned than the rest of him. Actually Buck’s was darker than the rest of his skin as well.
Lem’s cock was not as big as Buck’s but seemed bigger cuz Lem was rangy and ropy-muscled. His cock was as thick as his biceps, and Lem was dense like he had crammed a more muscular man inside of himself. Lem and Buck both held back laughter when Mason saw them standing there, dicks in hand, mid-thwack upon each other.

They both stood up on their chagrin. Buck’s cheeks turned burgundy underneath his unshaved beard. He chuckled, which made his pecker jiggle and his pecs flex. He was meaty and thick all over, but Lem was dark-skinned and taut from head to toe, his muscles dotted with bluish-gray tatttoos, and he had only a smattering of ebon body hair on his sternum.

Mason chuckled. “Who’s winning the swordfight, gentleman?”
“Me!”
“Nah, me! Mah hog wrecked his piglet!”
That chagrined look remained on both they faces, then Buck grinned at the same time Lem scowled, and the both them slapped dicks at each other at the same moment.
Detente broken, the swordfight resumed. Buck and Lem battled dick to dick, both of them leaning their upper halves back and their lower halves forward to get better leverage. It was unclear what the point of the competition was.
“Gotcha, Buckums-!”
“Ow, don’t hit mah balls!”
“Whiteboy, yo’ ugly dick best surrenduh, or I’mma treat it harsh-“
“You narsty, Lem!”
“You smell like velveeta, hillbilly!”
They both said more, but that was all Mason caught. He grinned, forgetting that he came here to see if Buck had his vaccination records — he was supposed to send it to the company in advance, but Mason got notice that Buck never did.
In any case, Mason was distracted by the smell of their muscles and the sight of their dicks smashing into each other. They eventually stopped because Lem got Buck in the balls hard again, and Buck doubled over both laughing and protesting. Lem crossed his arms over his chest.
“You hillbillies is weak as water, Buckums,” Lem said. His muscles tensed up when Lem kicked, trying to get Buck in the balls, but Buck dodged. Then Buck tackled Lem — but he didn’t knock him down, he toppled him then caught him and swept him up in his great bearish arms. Lem squealed and squirmed. “Git off me, hillbilly!”
It was clear Buck wasn’t gonna let go — Buck told Mason he was a wrestler in high school, and it seemed he wanna wrestle again — but then Lem wriggled, and Buck nearly knocked over a layer of blankets pinned up to the wall. He put Lem down to fix it.
“Damn it, Buckums!” Lem said. “You knockin’ shit down again!” He scowled, scratching his naked balls, and watched Buck fix the blanket. Buck’s back muscles looped and arched as he re-tacked the blanket to the wall. The walls and floors were icy cold, so they had covered everything with layers of insulation.
When Buck was done, the dead-end had been silent for some time. Buck and Lem both turned to Mason, both of them just now realizing they didn’t know why Mason had come here. Their cocks dangled like disused warclubs between their muscled thighs.
Mason said, “I was hoping you had your vaccination records, Buck.”
Buck stone-faced. “Mah what?”
“Your vaccination records? You were supposed to send them in to the company health director before you got here,” Mason said. “They sent you a letter about it.”
Buck made a dismissive hand gesture and sound effect. “Flpppt. Whatevuh, Mason, I don’t got that.” He shrugged. “Reckon mah grammaw prolly got that lettuh. I done been got vaccined, I did. I got all mah shots.”
“Okay, well, if you give me your doctor’s name, I can get the records sent up,” Mason said.
Buck nodded. “Okay, yeah. I’ll get mah grammaw to call you.” He wagged his dick in Mason’s direction. “Cain I do a complaint? Lem got a dirty dick-“
“Nuh-uh, I cleans it. I’mma do a complaint ’bout Buckums’s dick. Honky-ass whiteboy hillbilly got weak-dick syndrome, I seen that. He fat-“
“Shut ya old fool mouth, Lem, you don’t know nuttin’ ’bout whiteboy dingdong,” Buck said. Then he glanced at Mason. “Sawry, Mason, suh, we’s j’st playin’ ’round.”
“I’m not a supervisor,” Mason said. “I’m just the medic. Swordfight as much as you want. As long as you don’t get hurt, it’s none of my business.”
But they both sat down sheepishly anyway, and Buck motioned for Mason to do likewise. Their living area was a mess of pillows, blankets and mattresses. Mason sat behind Buck. “You want a massage?” he asked softly, speaking into Buck’s big cauliflowery ear — Buck was an amateur boxer, so his nose was crooked and his ears were fatly exploded.
“Hell yeah,” Buck said with a wrinkle of that fisty nose.
As Buck and Lem got to talking about their upcoming leave back in town, Mason’s hands spread over Buck’s back. Buck leaned forward. Mason kneaded his powerful muscles, and he leaned in to smell the fading-soap and recent-sweat smell clinging to his skin. Buck was so tall that Mason’s face squashed into the middle of his back, which was dappled with sweat. Mason was glad to taste the salt of his manhood, trickling into Mason’s mouth.
“We gonna have enough money to live it large this time, sweah to God,” Lem said. “That lightskin lady at the Manor? I am goin’ aftuh her like you wouldn’t believe — she wanted me — she was into it-” Lem was worked up and stood, holding holey white briefs in one hand like he forgot to put them on. He was excited about leave, which both he and Buck were up for next week.
Buck rolled his eyes. Mason was rubbing his back, so he couldn’t see Buck’s face, but he sensed it. Lem was animated as if he was arguing about this with somebody, but nobody had challenged it. He wagged his finger like he was counting off points, but he didn’t count anything. He also seemed to have forgotten he was naked, and his cock gaggled up and down as he gesticulated.
“She said I was handsome, she said I looked like that actor Idris Elba, damn you know she want this nigga dick, Buckums! You know it!” He wagged his finger well above Buck’s head. “She woulda gived me a freebie if that madam wasn’t there, she woulda, she said it, and I sensed it,” Lem said. “I got nigga sense on that. She don’t see lotta black American niggas, and you know she don’t want no Haitians, you know that, Buck-“
Buck sighed, making his chamberous chest billow beneath Mason’s grasp. “Shuddup, Lem.” He had a solid layer of muscle beneath his skin, and Mason’s massage made the whole mass move up and down.

Mason had to chuckle. Lem had been ranting about Haitians since back when he drank. Lem got persnickety about Haitians. And Nigerians. And Brazilians, Pakistanis, Lebanese… Lem had notions about every nationality, and he did express them often and vituperously. The video about respecting diversity on rig had obviously not sunk into Lem’s skull, even after rewatching it a hundred times.

“Nobody want Haitians. They’s longskin niggas, longskin, and you can’t trust them none. You know about that, Mason?”
“I-” Mason said from around Buck’s back muscles. They were solid and warm, moist with sweat and stretching, flexing beneath his grasp. Fine hair imperceptibly covered most of his back, but the hairs became black and coarse down at the small of his back and up atop his shoulderblades.
Buck blurted out. “Wait, nah, don’t say nothing, Mason, don’t get him started-“
“Longskin niggas-“
“Lem don’t like Hayshuns, reckon. He got notions ’bout ’em,” Buck said. He sniffled. “I ain’t had the best ‘xperiences wit’ ’em mahself.”
“She was givin’ me looks ’bout it, you know how they do, you know it, Buck, man, Mason, shit, a Haitian was going aftuh her — he had the money, you see, and she gotta go away wit’ him,” Lem said. He paused and whistled. “She was aftuh me, she said we woulda coulda snuck away if her madam stepped out. She touched mah dick anyway. You saw her, Buckums, the chick-“
“Yes, I know, Lem you been goin’ on ’bout her,” Buck said. He leaned back so Mason could reach around him and massage his chest. His hefty pics twitched at the touch of Mason’s fingertips. Mason massaged him gently at first, but Buck was so thick he got more and more vigorous until he sensed that Buck liked the sensation. Buck remained naked, his cock flopping between his thighs. Squashed between Buck and the pillow-clad wall, Mason moved to sit beside him and kneaded the meat of Buck’s torso.
Lem got out one of his gentleman’s interest magazines. “Lemme show you, lemme show you, hillbilly, she got tits like you wouldn’t believe!” he whisper-shouted, lest Mr. Chow come tell them to keep it down. Lem acted like somebody had doubted him, as he showed off the pictures of a woman with marvelous tits, the same as that lightskin prostitute working in town.
Mason wasn’t particularly interested, but he nodded along anyway. Buck did likewise. Mason’s hands worked up and down Buck’s broad chest. Lem was off on a tear about the woman in the magazine.
It was funny, Mason knew Lem back when he drank, and Lem drank a lot. He quit last year. Mason thought Lem’s eccentric behavior and wild tangents were due to his drinking, but after a year of sobriety, Lem was just as off the wall as ever. Maybe even more so. Maybe the liquor had kept him calm back before.
He spoke more clearly, that was all, less slurring of his words. Lem remained as Lemmish as ever.
“This bitch would fall in love wit’ me if we met, and you know I would put it to her good. She look like she know things, you get me, you can feel it coming outta her,” Lem said vociferously, like he must convince Mason and Buck of what he was saying. Despite that, he didn’t even show the magazine to them, he just kept talking about the woman in it. He seemed to have forgotten that he started talking about her to compare her to the prostitute at the Manor (a brothel in town where the roughnecks got leave) but now was talking about her in her own right. “I wouldn’t settle down wit’ her though. She don’t look like a one-man kinda woman, bet on it. Believe that, Buckums! Mason. She be out flippin’ her pussy at any man with dollahs to spare! Believe that!”
“Hey, uh…” Buck blushed under his scruffy beard. Ignoring Lem’s rant, he glanced down at his dick, which twitched like it wanna get hard. He kept his voice low but audible under Lem’s flimsy rant. Buck sucked on his lower lip. “Hey, Mason.” His cheeks bright red beneath his bristly beard, he glanced at Lem, who stopped his jeremiad midway through — or hell, his rants were endless, there was no midway, but he paused it anyway. Buck whispered, “I needta get a nut off.”
In any case, Lem heard that and scumbled on a face like he wanna get a nut off too. “You still jack a nigga off, Mason? I could use a nut mahself-“
“Aw, sheeit, I knewed you was gonna suggest that. Don’t do it, Mason, it’s nasty-“
Mason blurted out, “Yes! I mean, okay, I… I’ll do whatever, whatever you guys want.” He blushed, as the both them guffawed. Mason would enjoy jacking off with either or both of them. It wouldn’t be the first time with either of them as well, though he wasn’t sure if either of them knew it — had Buck told Lem he’d been jacking off with Mason in the clinic? Had Lem told Buck he’d done the same with Mason on previous rigs? Neither of them seemed shocked Mason would volunteer.
Buck said, “Don’t nevuh agree to nothing from Lem wit’out askin’ what it is, Mason. I tells him no mahself, I do. He don’t feel good. Like humpin’ a coral reef.”
Lem had a standing offer — if a man jacked him off one time “wit’ full throat” — swallowed his cum, basically — Lem would let him “hump off” on him bunches — Lem spent years prison, so he knew about all this stuff. “Humping off” was when you rubbed your dick on his back, in the crook of his elbow or between his thighs.
That was a new offer from Lem now that he was sober, it seemed, he never offered that on previous rigs. Or maybe he did, just not to Mason.
But Buck and everyone else on rig had refused. Nobody wanna taste Lem’s “nasty old black pecker” (Buck’s words), and Lem’s body was rough and not big and squishy like Buck’s. Lem was a “sandpapery chimney of a homeboy” (also Buck’s words).
Mason, however, jumped right to it. He blushed. “I get horny a lot, the idea of humping Lem off… I can handle swallowing some cum. I’ll do it.” He blushed harder, as Buck laughed and Lem clapped his hands with glee. Men looked at him weird if he said he swallowed cum willingly, so Mason pretended to be more reluctant about that than he really was.
In fact, Mason liked the taste, the consistency and the experience of it, and he was eager to hump off on Lem’s muscles. He didn’t mind Lem being too taut for it to feel proper, as Buck described it.
Lem’s body was wiry, like he was naturally skinny but forced by a hard life to cram muscles on. His thighs were firm and corded-muscle, and his cock was soft as he swaggered over to Mason.
“Ah hot shit,” Buck said and clapped his hands. “You really gonna swaller nut? Is that a medic’s job? They must pay a lot, hoss!”
But before Mason could say no, Lem gripped Mason’s head with one hand and slipped his limpness into his mouth. Lem’s other hand held onto that gentleman’s interest magazine. His cock tasted warm and musty, salty with sweat cuz this dead-end was warm from the space heaters they had put up all over, and the blankets and pillows provided ample insulation. Lem had showered recently, and his body remained moist and vaguely soap-scented.
That taste flooded Mason’s mouth, as Buck whooped and hollered, then got interested in peering at the magazine over Lem’s shoulders.
“Aaaah, shit, nigga…” Lem let out a moan, though his dick wasn’t even hard yet. Mason’s tongue wrapped around it and explored the soft shaft.
Lem’s cock began twitching and firming up, even before Mason swallowed it as deep as he could — that’s cuz Lem’s attention remained on the woman in the magazine. His meat was ready to race to erection, which it did quick once Mason got started. He slathered spit up and down Lem’s throbbing shaft. Lem murmured and grumbled into the magazine above Mason’s head.
As Mason slurped on Lem’s knob, he heard Lem and Buck arguing — Buck wanna look at the magazine and get hard, but Lem was focused on a picture of a black woman. Buck could only see the opposite page from his angle, and that was only advertisements, no women at all.
That didn’t slow Buck down though. He flopped his massive limpness onto Mason’s face, but Mason stayed focused on Lem’s veiny shaft, so Buck’s dick battered him softly on the nose and cheek. Lem’s pecker was hard as iron now, and it jabbed down Mason’s throat. Lem was harsher about it than Buck, not gentle at all, not that Mason was complaining. Lem treated Mason’s throat like a fleshlight, forcing his cock down until Mason choked on it and gripped Lem’s wiry asscheeks for support.
Soon, the precum flowed outta Lem’s dick, and Mason swallowed every drop. It was salty and gooey in a good way. Both Mason’s hands stayed gripped onto Lem’s asscheeks as though he was trying to push Lem away, but he instead held Lem in place, as Lem pounded — gently but firmly — at Mason’s mouth. His balls slapped at Mason’s chin. His sac wasn’t as hairy as Buck’s, and it was clean because he had showered moments ago, but his balls were hefty and swollen like Buck’s.
“Damn, Mason…” Lem murmured. His cock pulsated in Mason’s throat, and he now had both hands on the magazine, so he didn’t hold Mason’s head in place. That meant Mason could move up and down on the shaft at his own pace.
Because Mason’s hands were on Lem’s asscheeks, he felt Buck sidle up behind him — tired of being unable to see the “purdy ladies” in the magazine, Buck got behind Lem and rubbed his soft dick on Lem’s hard asscheeks.
“Eww, Lem, you feel like pavement, sheeit,” Buck murmured with a laugh. His dick rubbed the sweaty crack of Lem’s ass though. Buck kept his eyes trained on the magazine.
Though Lem grumbled, he didn’t complain about Buck humping himself hard on Lem’s ass. They did that — before Mason started jerking Buck off, Buck and Lem would hump each other here in the dead-end to get a nut off. They’d worked out a way to do it, Buck laying on his back, Lem “fucking” between his thighs, which made Lem’s wiry torso rub up and down on Buck’s dick. With a magazine held between their heads, they could both get off that way with minimal mess (they had a system of towels in place to catch their cum). It wasn’t too satisfying, but it worked.
Now that Buck and Lem were both hard though, Mason could switch back and forth between them both, as Buck let his erect cock ram between Lem’s thighs. Lem’s ballsac rubbed on his dick, which gave it a sour flavor that Mason gobbled down. Lem grumbled about Buck’s position too — Lem do be grumbling — but he ain’t try and stop Buck. Mason swallowed Buck’s dick as deep as he could, then moved back to Lem’s, then back to Buck’s.
Since Mason enjoyed it, he wasn’t especially trying to get them both off quickly. But Buck’s younger body got real close quick, and Mason swallowed his hillbilly cock to the root, or as close as Mason could get anyway, as Buck’s meat was too long and too thick. Since Mason was focused on throating deep, he was surprised when a jolt of hot jizz filled his mouth, then overflowed down his chin.
“Aww, heckfire!” Buck closed his eyes and let out a long cringing sound, his dick still poking out between Lem’s thighs and into Mason’s mouth. A fat jizzum splurted into Mason’s throat and spilled out down his chin.
“No fair, hillbilly,” Lem murmured. He pulled Mason’s head off Buck’s cock, which Mason didn’t resist. Lem moaned when his dick thensank into Mason’s cum-filled mouth.
Buck scoffed and moaned as well, still cumming, spewing his nut all over Mason’s face. He stroked himself off with both hands. Great ropy jets of jizz flowed over Mason’s cheeks and shoulders, while Lem gripped his head once more and plowed down his throat.
Before Buck was even done cumming, Lem was shooting his load too, his wiry old-man dick spraying a thick wad into Mason’s belly. Mason groaned but swallowed all he could before his need for air caused him to expel Lem’s dick, so Lem’s last couple cumwads joined the soup on Mason’s face.
“Hell yeah, whiteboy,” Lem said. Buck chortled behind him.
They both sighed, their dicks now limp in front of them. Lem had dropped the gentleman’s interest magazine onto the pillow on the floor, and some of the cum dripped off Mason’s face onto the pages.
“Damn! You makin’ a mess, Mason,” Lem said. He picked up the magazine and wiped jizz off the page with the beautiful black woman. Lem got on his knees to put the magazine away, while Mason stood behind him.
“He gonna hump ya back now, Lem,” Buck said with a chuckle and a chortle. He delicately wiped his pecker clean with a paper towel. “You gonna get whiteboy spooge all ovah ya head.”
“Shuddup, Buck! He ain’t a hillbilly, so it won’t be as nasty as yo’n,” Lem said. He drank from his flask of apple cider — he felt strongly that soft apple cider replaced his desire for alcohol. Drinking from a flask helped, he said.
It wasn’t true, but he felt it should be and maybe one day would be, if he thought it often enough. So he drank soft cider as though it forgot to ferment. After smacking his lips, he flexed his arms, which pushed his shoulderblades into making a little valley in the center of his back.
“Go fo’ it, Mason. Be quick,” Lem said.
Mason slid his dick into that valley, and he humped it up and down, already rock-hard. Lem stayed like that, kneeling with his arms flexed. He ain’t pay much mind to Mason, he simply directed Buck to clean up puddles of cum where it had spilled.
Holding back a chest-cringing moan, Mason’s cock firmed up the rest of the way immediately, his dick ramming into the valley of Lem’s shoulders. Mason was already mostly hard, so it didn’t take much to get him going. Lem kneeled there like nothing was happening, he was just flexing his arms for practice. Mason slid his dick back and forth, embarrassed at first cuz both Buck and Lem got quiet, so the only sound was Mason’s slightly panty breaths. Mason’s arms gripped Lem’s taut biceps.
Then Buck got to talking about leave — he had his own notions about the women at the brothel in Kaskatuk — and Lem gradually ignored Mason. That meant Mason could focus on the firm muscles of Lem’s back.
He’d been a roughneck for decades. Lem worked at every kind of oil rig, work camp, lumber mill and remote mine in North America (he claimed), plus a couple even further abroad. He wasn’t the meaty kind of muscular like Buck, he was more firm and padding-free, solid as petrified wood. Buck’s back would be squishy, but Lem’s was hard, and his shoulders squeezed Mason’s dick.
The pearly white prejizz that spewed from Mason’s cock spread over Lem’s back. It followed the natural arcs and curves of Lem’s flexed muscles, and it dripped down to his asscrack. Mason’s fingers spread over the firm mounds of Lem’s biceps. He humped stronger with every pump of his hips, his dick ramming up Lem’s spine and nape to get him in the back of the head.
But Lem was copacetic about it. “You shoulda made that deal with Waymond, Buckums,” he said.
Buck scoffed and sucked on his teeth. He eyed Lem suspiciously. “I ain’t givin’ up all mah porno, Lem.”
“You don’t need porno if you got Mason jerkin’ you off,” Lem said. He and Buck both erupted in chatter about the canceled deal with Waymond — porno for cigarettes, basically, with some side deals about food in the mess hall, potato chips in the barracks, Waymond’s hot sauce and a safety manual that wasn’t technically porno but did have a debatably hot woman washing contaminants off her body while respecting diversity. It was a complicated transaction, which Buck had turned down.
Mason wasn’t all that interested by it, but he didn’t mind how it made Lem animated. Lem’s back flexed as he argued with Buck, who waved him off and did pushups in the center of the dead-end. Mason closed his eyes, hands roaming all up and down Lem’s shoulders, arms and his chest. When Mason leaned down to tweak Lem’s nipples, it made Lem’s pecs ripple.
That was when Mason shot his wad into the creamy soup already congealing on the back of Lem’s head. Mason gasped, unsure at first if Lem even realized he was cumming, as a fat wad of jizz spurted up to his scalp. Most of it landed in a thick puddle on Lem’s neck and shoulder. “Awwww…” Mason tried not to make a sound, but it felt good to resist, and pleasure coursed through his veins. His knees went weak.
“It was a good deal, hillbilly!” Lem snapped at Buck. Cum smeared down his chin and his collarbone, which he ignored.
A long chest-rattling moan came outta Mason, as his final cumwad spurted into the puddle he had already made. It dripped down Lem’s back, which remained flexed, his arms up, like he had forgotten why he was doing that. Mason let his erection slip into Lem’s armpit, the coarse hairs of which provided friction and made Mason bite his lip, the sheer bliss overwhelming him and making his whole body shudder.
Lem looked crossly down at his bare chest covered in Mason’s jizz and also his fingers. Lem shrugged. “You done, Mason?”
Mason nodded. His cheeks turned red, and his soft cock flopped off Lem’s back. Lem grabbed a washcloth to wipe himself off, and Mason tucked his cock away. He immediately resumed lecturing Buck about the deal with Waymond, which Buck shrugged off. Buck was smoking a cigarette and seemed to have eyes for nothing else at the moment.
“You guys have fun on your leave,” Mason said, his voice breathless and thready. “And I’ll be here if you renew your contracts. I hope you do.”

Roughnecks Got Oral Needs!

Chapter One: Tusslin’

Chapter Two: The Sandwich

Chapter Three: Vaccination

Roughnecks Got Oral Needs!: Chapter 2

Roughnecks Got Oral Needs!: Chapter Two

Roughnecks Got Oral Needs!

Chapter One: Tusslin’

Chapter Two: The Sandwich

Chapter Three: Vaccination

Chapter Two: The Sandwich

Mason went to the kitchen after ten bells. Dinner was done then, but there were usually snacks available until they ran out. Mason went to make himself a sandwich and bring it to his clinic. He’d eat that before bed, or maybe first thing in the morning so he didn’t have to get up for breakfast.
Salami, sliced onions, lettuce, mayonnaise and mustard. For some reason, there were eight varieties of mustard in the fridge. Mason used two of them.
He saw Buck outside the clinic, having just knocked — and presumably not noticed the handwritten sign on the door — be right back, wait five minutes. Buck looked like he was embarrassed to be seen here.
“Hey, uh, I’s wonderin’ if’n you gots eyebooproefen,” Buck said. With all the holler in his accent, it took Mason a second to understand what he was asking for. Then he saw the hungry look in Buck’s eyes, aimed at the sandwich, and Mason sighed. He both wondered if and hoped that Buck was here to get jacked off again.
“Yeah, yeah, c’mon in. What hurts, Buck?” Mason said as he opened the clinic door. He went in, and Buck plopped his giant frame down on the bunk. He kept his eyes on the sandwich.
And those eyes stayed on the sandwich. Mason cleared his throat, but Buck looked fixated. Buck had made it clear on this rig that he was always hungry, that he wanted whatever leftovers were available, and that the food was insufficient. It had become clear that no amount of food would be sufficient.
“What hurts, Buck?” Mason asked again. “And do you want my sandwich?” He pointed to the sandwich on his desk. Mason felt a curious urge to watch him eat. He’d seen Buck eat in the mess, and there was something strangely arousing about it.
Damn was Buck good at it too! He really shoveled it in. The mess made three lines of food — Indian, Middle-Eastern and Western. The cooks were mostly Portuguese, but they catered to a diverse crowd. Buck was the only one who went through all three lines. Last week, Mason saw him eat a croque monsieur tagine wrapped up in a garlic naan.
“Ah, I mean… hell yeah,” Buck said. He ran his fingers through his mullet. “You don’t want it?”
Mason shook his head. “I only made it cuz I planned earlier on eating it. Then after I made it… I’m not hungry anymore,” he said. Then, yet again, he said, “What hurts?”
But Buck was fixated on the sandwich, which he grabbed and ripped off a huge bite of — his giant frame meant he had a giant mouth that took giant bites. Mason was impressed. But Buck seemed to have forgotten he didn’t come here for a sandwich.
“What can I do for you, Buck?” Mason asked between bites. He had to ask it a couple times before Buck heard. Mason had a feeling that, if he stood too close to Buck, he might get chomped on along with the sandwich.
“I was hopin’ fer some eyebooproefen,” Buck said around mouthfuls of sandwich. Crumbs dropped to the floor.
“What hurts, Buck?” Mason asked, more insistently this time. “I can’t give you anything without writing something down in the logbook.”
“I got pain!” Buck said. “Mah shoulders is sore as the dickens! Feels like I nogginned up onna pile of crawdads this morn’, hoss.”
Mason flattened his nose. He grabbed a pen and the logbook. “Okay, well, Buck… I recognize some of the words in there. Your shoulders hurt.”
“Yep. I done all the auntychambuh stuff yestuhday, tha’ss why. Habibby was sick, so I gots to do it all. Hard on the shoulders, it is, reckon.” He stuffed the last of the sandwich into his mouth. “And I’s hungry. You cain’t get me more food, right? Cuz I’m bigguh than the li’l fellahs, reckon I oughta get more suppuh.”
“That’s not how it works, I don’t have any authority over the mess hall,” Mason said. He filled out the logbook, then gave Buck a dose of ibuprofen and a little plastic cup of water. Buck downed the pills. “Do you want me to rub your shoulders?”
Buck nodded a little too eagerly. He leaned into it, and the look in his eyes suggested to Mason he wanted to get jacked off again. That was probably why he came here in the first place. His shoulders were probably sore, that wasn’t just an excuse, but that came with the roughneck life. Buck probably brought his own over-the-counter stuff and maybe some black-market stronger stuff. Lem definitely got opiates on the downlow, Mason thought. He seemed like the type. In his experience, most roughnecks did, and essentially all of them over fifty years old did.
So if Buck wanted stronger painkillers, he could get them one way or another. The real reason he came to see Mason was cuz he wanted Mason’s soft fingers to touch him again.
Mason wanted that too, and he eagerly got behind Buck. Buck was so tall that Mason was dwarfed by his broad back, the muscles of which were so thick they looked painful.
Sweat clung to the groove between Buck’s shoulderblades. Mason’s fingers gripped Buck’s meaty back, and he kneaded the flesh. As Mason rubbed the firmness of his shoulders, Buck let out a low lingering moan, his muscles turning to hot silly-putty in Mason’s fingers.
Settling onto his knees on the bunk, Mason got a good angle to massage Buck’s back. Mason’s legs splayed to each side, and he basked in the heat radiating off Buck’s flesh. Soon Buck seemed on the verge of sleep, and Mason kept working his muscles softly. Mason often massaged the roughnecks on the rig — and most often, his massages turned to at least handjobs. That was why Mason was such a popular medic.
A noose made of barbed wire was tattooed on Buck’s back, running up the length of his spine. The loop of the noose ended right where Buck’s beefy asscheeks began. The tattoo was dotted with the coarse black hairs of Buck’s back. “Is this tattoo significant?” Mason asked.
Buck groaned from the massage. He half-nodded, half-yawned. “Got it when I left prison,” he said. “It’s a Bloods thang.”
“Bloods?”
“The gang,” Buck said. He mimed shooting a gun. “The homeboy gang. I ain’t a shooty-homeboy feller, mind you, I keeps the peace, Mason. I was in the Bloods in prison though, and when I got out, they lemme get the noose on my back. It means I’s allowed to pledge the Bloods in any cell block.”
“What’d you do to earn that?”
Buck wrinkled his nose.
“Oh, if you don’t wanna say, it’s…”
Buck shrugged. “T’wouldn’t be propuh.” He leaned back like he forgot Mason was behind him, and Mason was almost crushed by his weighty body. But he didn’t lay back all the way, just enough to put some heft on Mason. Mason’s hands wandered to Buck’s chest, groping and rubbing his now-relaxed pecs and hairy belly. “Will you, uh, massage mah dick again?” Before Mason could answer, Buck said, “I got a stiffy today fer real, it wouldn’t go down. It’s cuzza that calendar in the Porchagees room, the calendar with a hot babe. I hadta walk by it like a hunnert times today.” He chuckled, making his back bounce up and down on Mason’s lap. “I was waitin’ fer the Porchagees to leave the room so’s I could nab some food outta there. They got stacks of anchovies, Mason! Stacks!” He whistled. “The Porchagees lady on the calendar be callin’ to me though. They got purty ladies in Portugal, reckon. Do they speak English?”
“No. They speak Portuguese,” Mason said. His hands stretched down to Buck’s workpants, which Buck raced to unzip. Buck fished out his own massive shaft, soft but slightly stiff, like it was trying to find something to point at. Buck was so tall Mason had to stretch to reach it, since Buck was still leaning back and pinning him to the wall.
“If’n you could put ya mout’ on it again, it’d be most ‘ppreciated,” Buck said. He finally realized Mason was pinned behind him and lifted his chest up. Mason scooted out to the other side of the bunk, away from the wall, while Buck lay on his back. His dick stuck straight up like a sundial. Even stretched out on the bunk, Buck was too tall to fit. That was why he lived in the dead-end with Lem — Buck didn’t want to cram his big-ass body into a bunk at night. Him and Lem slept on the floor on a pile of mattresses and blankets.
Without another word, Mason dropped his head and licked Buck’s giant shaft, which rocketed straight to full erection. It pulsated against his tongue. Mason’s hands roamed up his chest, making Buck’s powerful pecs ripple. Memories of that Portuguese woman on the calendar thrummed through Buck’s muscles.
“Aaaah…” Buck sighed. “I j’st don’t cotton to jackin’ off wit’ Lem. Not cuz he’s black, I got no prejudices. But he got hands like sandpaper, Mason. And his lips is dry! Oow-eee! Cain’t pretend he a female for any length of time, fer real!” His hand gently lay on Mason’s head, not forcing it down, just guiding it deeper on his cock.

The hand wasn’t necessary though, as Mason tried to get even deeper than last time. He wanted to taste every inch of Buck’s meat. He stretched his neck and lips as wide as he could manage. Buck grunted, chest tensing, pleasure coursing through him. His veiny shaft throbbed in Mason’s mouth, getting thicker as it fully stiffened.

Unable to breathe, Mason held onto his mouth in position. Spit slobbered down Buck’s rod, lubing up Mason’s hands, both of which stroked his cock too. Mason’s throat struggled to open up more and to breathe as well, and eventually Mason couldn’t help but pull off to take a deep breath. Salty precum coated his lips and tongue.
“Goddamn, Mason… you’s a great medic,” Buck said with a laugh that turned into a moan of desire, as he accidentally and suddenly reached his climax. His voice broke cuz that was unexpected. It was just as much a surprise to Mason, who choked on the first flow of jizz.
A burst of cum flowed into Mason’s mouth, followed by another, great creamy gobs of salty goodness sliding down Mason’s gullet. Buck gasped like he didn’t see that coming, and it made his muscles all flex at once. Another wad of creamy jizz hit Mason’s throat, and it coated his tongue.
“Damn, hoss!” Buck’s chest muscles rippled as his voice broke again.
This was Mason’s favorite part, so he tried to drag it out. His lungs craved oxygen though, and he couldn’t swallow it all. Buck’s bushy pubic hair became soggy with all the cum that overflowed from Mason’s mouth.
It fell limp in Mason’s grip, even as a few drops of cum kept dribbling out. Buck’s thirteen-inch cock flopped meatily left and right in his grip. Buck lay back, arms and legs spread wide, like he got no intention of going back to his barrack. Cum coated both Mason’s face and Buck’s crotch.
Maybe he did want to sleep here. Mason wasn’t supposed to allow it unless it was for medical reasons — because somebody could come in here with a problem, and Buck’s presence would violate their medical confidentiality. But Mason could always make Buck step out.
Before Mason could bring that up, however, he took his own dick out and gave it a few strokes. Buck ignored it.
“Do you mind if I jack off?” Mason asked. “While I play with your cock?” He blushed, glad that Buck seemed uninterested in what Mason was doing now. Buck yawned and nodded.
Mason climbed on the bunk so as to mount Buck’s powerful body. He frotted both dicks together, his rock-hard one and Buck’s much bigger but soft cock. His shaft, ballsac and crotch hair were all soaked in jizz, the rank smell of which wafted into Mason’s nostrils.
“Can I smoke in here?” Buck asked.
Pointing to the vent, Mason shrugged. “Not really. But if you exhale towards the vent, it’ll be okay.”
Buck nodded. He lit a cigarette like he ain’t notice Mason rubbing his erect dick on Buck’s soft one. Mason used one hand to keep both dick’s together, while his other kneaded the muscles of Buck’s chest. Buck sighed and let out a long plume of smoke, aimed at the vent, which sucked up the fumes.
Everyone smoked on the rig, which was actually very well-ventilated, making the smoke largely irrelevant. As long as nobody was currently hooked up to an oxygen tank in here, Mason wasn’t worried about the smoke. There was little chance of a health inspection in the middle of the frozen North Pacific Ocean.
His muscles were rock-hard beneath Mason’s fingers, and his cock was soft as pudding. Mason’s was hard though. Buck’s dick was too soft to really get him off, Mason needed more friction. But it was enough to get him firm and leaking precum down Buck’s already cummy shaft.
“Is it okay if I cum on your chest?” Mason asked.
Buck shrugged. “You gonna clean it off after?”
Mason nodded.
“Fine then.” Buck closed his eyes and puffed on his cigarette. “Try not to get it on mah face.” It seemed he was trying to ignore Mason’s dick. That was fine with Mason, who let out a bit-back moan as he stroked his hard cock along with Buck’s much bigger one. The smell of Buck’s cum was cloying in Mason’s nostrils. His fingers made Buck’s pecs ripple.
He smelled strongly of sweat. The roughnecks on the rig always accused each other of stinking. Mason didn’t like to admit he didn’t mind the smell, cuz they’d make fun of him for it. He kinda liked it. He let out a moan as precum spurted out his knob and into Buck’s crotch.
“You nevuh been to prison?” Buck asked without opening his eyes. He exhaled a plume of smoke into the vent above his head.
“Nope,” Mason said.
Buck finally opened his eyes again, looking down at Mason’s dick throbbing against his own. “Usually only guys who been to prison do this kinda shit. You been workin’ on rigs loads, right? That must be why.”
Mason nodded and let out a moan as he climaxed at last. A shiver of intense pleasure ran up his body, and he kissed Buck right on the meat of his chest muscles. Buck chortled, which made his whole torso tense up beneath Mason’s grip.
Mason’s fat load spurted out, laying a thick rope of cum over Buck’s strapping chest muscles. That was followed by another jissom that sprayed over Buck’s chest and even up to his chin. Buck chuckled throatily. His neck was splatterd with cum.
A long sigh came outta Mason, as he stroked the last of his cum onto Buck’s chest. Mason shot a huge wad, bigger than he was used to. Maybe Buck’s bigness was rubbing off on him. Mason even thought his dick seemed bigger.
When he was done, Mason scurried off to grab a washcloth. He wiped off both his dick and Buck’s, and he dabbed up all the cum he could get to from Buck’s chest and crotch. Buck lay sprawl-out on the bunk as he finished his cigarette.
Finally, they both finished their tasks, and Buck put out his cigarette in an empty can of coke on the desk. He sighed. “Guess I gots to go back to the dead-end with Lem,” he said. “Come see me sometime, Mason. If’n you cain handle Lem bein’ a crazy old coot.”

Roughnecks Got Oral Needs!

Chapter One: Tusslin’

Chapter Two: The Sandwich

Chapter Three: Vaccination