scenes featuring jousting – Mansploitation

The Cocky Gangsta Bottoms

Braxton has gotta do something for his girlfriend, and that means letting the twinky barber Desmond go to town all over his alpha gangsta body!

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It was one of the slowest days since Desmond had been working at the Cityside Barbershop of Lawndale. He sat on his barber’s chair, playing idly on his phone. There was nothing to do. Virtually no one had come in all day.
People didn’t seem to get haircuts when the weather was very hot or very cold. Today it was very hot, even hotter than it normally was in the middle of August in Baltimore. It was like a kiln outside. But the weather had been kind of weird lately, Desmond thought, because last night was very cool for August. Desmond got up in the middle of the night to get a blanket from his closet. So maybe that was why business was so slow today. The weather was both too hot and too cold for haircuts.
He was horny too. The Cityside Barbershop was a nationwide chain with a reputation — what happened there, stayed there, so black men who wanted to get their nut off could always swing downlow discretely. That was plenty fine with Desmond, with a limp wrist, a girlish figure and a seductive lilt to his voice. He greatly appreciated the men who came through on the downlow.
Today, however, none of his regulars came through asking for any dome. Desmond gave three haircuts, none of which resulted in a chance to swing on any nigga dick.
Then one of his regulars did come in — Braxton Bird, a swagger-heavy gangsta in the Bloods — just a few minutes before close. Finally. Desmond straightened his back and nodded at him. Braxton had just come in last week for a haircut, so he must want something else.
He wants to bust a nut. They all do, Desmond thought and licked his lips.
“Hi, Braxton,” Desmond said. He rotated around the barber’s chair so Braxton could sit in it, though Desmond did not think he would do so.
Braxton’s homies stayed out on the sidewalk, holding back nervous laughter and sneaking peeks into the barbershop. It looked like they thought Braxton was going to back out of coming in here.
“Yo, Desmond,” Braxton said. His deep, booming voice was authoritarian, like he expected to be obeyed. “We gotta go in the back and talk.”
Was he upset about something? Did he not like the haircut last week? Desmond couldn’t imagine why, but he didn’t know of any other reason Braxton might be mad at him. Desmond shivered. Braxton had a reputation as a gangsta, and Desmond didn’t know how real that reputation was. He at least had gang connections. If he thought Desmond betrayed him or snitched to the cops about him (or about anything), he might become violent.
On the other hand, Desmond had gang connections too. This was a Bloods neighborhood. And Desmond was not a snitch.
So Desmond followed him into the backroom nervously. The other barbers watched and snickered. They all knew why Braxton was here — or at least why they assumed Braxton was here. It was considered rude to mention it in the shop, but that didn’t always stop them.
“Have fun back there, nigga…” murmured the barber Skelton.
Braxton ignored Skelton. When the door swung shut behind him, he took a deep breath.
“Yo, uh…”
“You mad at me?” Desmond opened his eyes wide and cocked his head to the side, giving Braxton an insouciant grin, like a girl. He delicately teased his fingers over the waistband of Braxton’s boxers, which were visible above his sagging jeans.
“No, no,” Braxton said. He licked his lips and scratched his fingers through the dense beard of coarse hairs on his chin. “I, uh… I was dealin’ dat rock, and uh… Well you ain’t gotta know that part.” He sighed. His confidence was deflated in comparison to his usual cocky, braggy self. Just a few days ago, he walked in here as though he owned the place, chains jingling, swagger dripping off him like a rap star. Braxton closed his eyes. “Ain’t a big deal. Gangsta shit. You know my nigga Jaycee and me, we fucked around one time, when we was in lockup for a weekend. Last year.”
“Oh. Sweet.” Desmond straightened his back. “Jaycee Sands?”
Braxton nodded. “So it ain’t a big deal. I took it in the ass once already. Weren’t nobody’s bitch. It was on the downlow.” He paused. “I mean, not real downlow, that’s why I’m talkin’ ’bout it. It just wasn’t no big deal then, and so it ain’t gonna be a big deal now.”
“What ain’t a big deal? What are you talking about?” Desmond said. He placed one finger on Braxton’s barrel-chest, overtop his shirt, and then traced a line down to his sagging jeans. His pants sagged low enough to feel the pubic hair beneath Braxton’s boxer shorts even before he got to the waist of his jeans. Braxton took a deep breath and his chest muscles undulated like he was aroused by Desmond’s touch but unwilling to touch him back.
“My niggas… Uh, we was hangin’ out wit’ a couple girls last night,” Braxton said. “And we, uh… We been playin’ a game wit’ em.”
“What game?”
“Uh… Truth or Dare,” he said. He took a deep breath. “And, uh… We dared ’em to do some girl-girl shit. You know…”
“Sounds hot.” Desmond shrugged.
“And they dared me, uh…”
Desmond’s mind whirred and he finally realized where Braxton was going with this. “To do something on the downlow? Do girls even know about that?”
He nodded. “These do. But they knew I done let you jerk me off. So it can’t be that. They said… I gotta let you, y’know… Be on top.” His big burly muscles shook.
Desmond’s mind whirred. Was this giant alpha male gangsta offering what he seemed to be offering? Desmond assumed he must have misunderstood what was happening.
“Uh… what?”
“I’ll jerk you off,” Braxton said. “I done it befo’. Don’t think you makin’ me yo’ bitch or somethin’.”
“Course not, sweetheart. I’ll be so gentle…” Desmond said, his voice light and saccharine though he was actually so excited he wanted to shadowbox the air. His heart skipped a beat. He still thought he must have misunderstood what was happening, but he didn’t want to fight against it. He smiled at Braxton. Desmond sighed. “So… you have to let me ramrod you, in exchange for which some girls will let you watch ’em do girl stuff?”
He nodded.
“I don’t have to watch the girl stuff, do I?” Desmond asked.
He shook his head.
“Good. Cuz vaginas are kinda gross,” Desmond said. “I think if I saw that many at once, I might throw up. I don’t know how you put your tongue in there.”
“You put your tongue in butts! Man-butts. That’s nasty.”
Desmond shrugged. “Yeah, but sexy butts! Children come out of vaginas, Braxton! Children!”
“That… I don’t fuck ’em when they’re giving birth!”
Desmond rolled his eyes. “Still. Vaginas look like the forehead of a Star Trek alien.”
“You wanna do it or not?” Braxton asked.
“I do.” Desmond quickly stripped off his own clothes. Desmond watched Braxton undress. “No one is going to know you went through with this.”
“What?”
“You won’t be able to prove to the girls you did it,” Desmond said. Then there was a loud banging sound, and he jumped. When he realized it was Braxton’s friends opening a window to watch, Desmond smiled and pretended to be so frightened by the sound that he collapsed in Braxton’s bare arms. “Oh my god, robbers!” He nuzzled Braxton’s bulging biceps.
“They ain’t robbers. They my niggas,” Braxton said. “Fuck off! Get outta here!” But his friends didn’t go anywhere. The window was very low to the ground outside since the backroom was technically below ground — the Cityside Barbershop of north Lawndale was in the basement of a building, accessible only through a narrow stone staircase from the street. The window that was accessible from the alley was one of those narrow half-windows just above the asphalt. Braxton’s niggas had to get on the pavement and crowd in to watch.
“You ain’t get started yet?!”
“Ramrod the fuck outta that nigga, Desmond! Make him yo’ prison bitch!”
Braxton snorted and flared his nostrils as he stripped off his clothes. He went very slow, reluctant, while Desmond’s eyes went from excited to drooling in a matter of moments. He folded all of his clothes, even his drawers, and he kept his chains on, jingling when he moved. Braxton had a broad, muscular chest and plenty of thickness. Each ass-cheek was like an overinflated volleyball, tight and hard and expansive. His butt was also juicy and just slightly hairy, a perfect rear on a perfectly imperfect-shaped man.
“Swallow that nigga nut, Braxton!”
Braxton stood awkwardly. He didn’t know how to begin. His massive brown dick dangled between his legs. Desmond tried to joust — that was a simple act, so he thought it’d be good to start with that — but Braxton was much too tall. Even on his toes, Desmond couldn’t get his cock to touch Braxton’s.
So he led Braxton by the cock to a corner of the backroom where there was a barber’s chair waiting to be reupholstered because there was a bullet-hole in it. Desmond stood on the barber’s chair, which finally made it possible to jack both him and Braxton off at once.
Desmond stroked both throbbing shafts. His own dick throbbed forcefully, like there was something in there trying to escape, because he was hard and every moment he touched Braxton’s big dick brought him closer to orgasm. Braxton remained limp, ignoring his dick as he eyed his niggas through the window with a hostile glare. They leered and teased him from afar.
“Come on, you do it,” Desmond said with a giggle. “Jack us both off.” He enjoyed playing with Braxton’s soft meat, but he wanted to see Braxton do it. He kissed Braxton on his thick, scruffy neck and his powerful pecs.
Braxton scowled but grabbed both cocks. He leaned his head back and looked away. He spat on the cement floor. He took both shafts in one hand, shivered when his limp dick touched Desmond’s hard one, and stroked them both together.
“You like dat, Braxton?!
“Ooh, lookit that gangsta meat! Gettin’ hard, ain’t he? Gonna get love from Desmond soon.”
“I say shut the fuck up, niggas! You think I won’t come out there and kick yo’ ass?” Braxton shouted. His chest heaved, and he pounded on his pecs. His upper half was ruddy and raging, but his lower half was awkward, limp and too-nervous to be excited about anything. His meaty hand absent-mindedly stroked Desmond’s dick, which throbbed and leaked precum into his fingers. The fluids coated his shaft, proving lubrication for Braxton’s hand. He didn’t seem to notice because he was focused on threatening his friends. “We agreed we wouldn’t make fun of whoever did this. That’s a rule, niggas!”
“We said we wouldn’t make fun of you after it’s done, nigga. That’s what we said. That was what you said. It was yo’ idea. It was yo’ idea to draw straws too. We was gonna let Desmond choose.”
“Fuck you!”
They were laughing so hard they were crying. Desmond smiled as Braxton roared in anger.
“Dem bitches better do it so good,” he said. “Fuck… I wanna see ’em do it all. Lacy Nichols is gonna be there, nigga. Hot damn, if I see her sticking a dildo in that thick girl’s ass… I will bust my nut right there.”
His dick finally perked up as his eyes grew cloudy, picturing the women. Braxton’s meaty shaft grew hard beneath his hand, and it throbbed next to Desmond’s dick. Now that he was erect, his cock was much bigger than Desmond’s.
“If you wait until they tell you what to do, it’ll be more embarrassing than if you just do it yo’self, sweetie,” Desmond said. He acted as feminine as possible to make this easier for Braxton, who growled and looked at Desmond as though his flamboyant lilt made Braxton horny enough to forget that Desmond was a man.
He nodded and flared his nostrils again. He sunk to his knees, ignoring the catcalls and jeers of his friends. He opened his mouth.
“Open wide, bitch!
“Swallow that meat, nigga! Swallow it good!”
“No teeth! If you feel teeth, Desmond, you can punch him. He’ll get the message!”
Desmond’s cock slid past his lips, and Braxton choked from the moment he tasted it. His moist tongue twitched when Desmond’s cock entered his mouth, sending a shiver of desire up Desmond’s spine.
His cock was already hard, so when it reached the back of Braxton’s throat, he was already leaking precum. It flowed down Braxton’s gullet, making him wince and writhe. Despite his discomfort, he soon relaxed and got better at deep-throating it — his massive body helped, since he had a massive mouth and a massive throat to go with it.
“Throat his face, Desmond!”
Desmond was planning on doing that anyway. That was how Braxton did it when he came in for a haircut, so it made sense to throat him back now that their situations were reversed. Desmond felt tiny touching Braxton’s head — Desmond’s fingers were small and delicate in comparison.
The haircut was really very good, Desmond thought. He was proud of himself. Thinking about that as his cock slid down Braxton’s throat made him giggle like a schoolgirl. His fingers massaged Braxton’s scalp through his hair.
Desmond began grinding his hips, rubbing his cock over every corner of Braxton’s mouth. Despite his initial reluctance, Braxton almost seemed to be enjoying himself. He gurgled and slathered spit all along Desmond’s throbbing cockshaft.
The dense nest of beard hair scratched at Desmond’s cock and his balls when they slapped against his chin. The hairs were coarse and kinky, and thick enough that it looked like Desmond’s dick disappeared into Braxton’s beard rather than his mouth. Spit and precum dripped from Braxton’s lips and soaked his beard.
At last Braxton pulled off, just as Desmond began to get worried he would blow his load early. He grimaced and looked away, holding back a gag as a ball of fluids leaked from his mouth and landed with an audible plop on the floor.
“Nice mouth, Braxton! You can do me next!
“Yeah, but you gotta shave that beard first!
“Fuck you, niggas! I’ll kick yo’ ass when we done in here,” Braxton said. “I don’t gotta let you watch them girls get nasty, man! I’ll make you leave!”
“Ain’t up to you, nigga. You ain’t the grand marshall of they pussies. They made an agreement wit’ all of us. As long as one nigga let Desmond ram ‘im, they gonna let all of us watch ’em get nasty wit’ each other.”
“Ah shit, you think they gonna scissor? I hope they scissor.”
As the boys outside laughed and argued over what they could get the girls to do to each other, Desmond thought it was funny that the girls didn’t want to watch. They wanted Braxton to humiliate himself, but they weren’t interested in seeing it happen. The boys, meanwhile, were desperate to see some girl-on-girl action, no matter what it took.
“Don’t worry, I’ll lick you till you good and loose, nigga, and I’ll give you a reacharound,” Desmond said.
Braxton grunted as he bent over. He first grabbed his ankles like a soldier at boot camp waiting to get it up the ass from his drill sergeant. But he was so tall that was not at all an effective position for Desmond. He tapped Braxton’s hefty asscheeks until he got down on all fours.
That was perfect. Desmond dived in, tongue-first. He slammed his tongue deep into Braxton’s asshole, in the thicket of hair in his asscrack. He wanted to shock him into opening up right away, which worked even better than he thought it would — that hole parted like the Red Sea. Desmond’s tongue fit easily inside.
“Make love to that nigga, Desmond! Shoot some babies up inside him!”
He could have licked that big burly asshole for hours. Desmond loved giving rimjobs, and he had never gotten to taste Braxton’s insides before.
But he was ready to move on. He left a finger in the hole to keep it loose as he got ready to ram.
“Here I go, baby, tell me if it hurts too bad,” Desmond said, quietly enough that only Braxton could hear.
When his dick pushed in, a shudder of pleasure ran up Desmond’s spine, while Braxton grunted. He lifted his head and rolled his eyes. He bit his lip to stifle a louder sound.
“Ah, damn, there it is, Braxton! That’s a dick in yo’ ass!”
“Fuck you, niggas! You know this ain’t a big deal, right?! I ain’t a bitch! He ain’t a real man!” Braxton barked. Then he sniffled. “Sorry. I mean… You is a real man, Desmond. Just… you ain’t a gangsta. Don’t count.”
Desmond nodded. That was fine with Desmond. It all seemed silly to him.
A long, low howl escaped from Braxton’s throat as the last of Desmond’s cock slid inside him. His massive ass swallowed up Desmond’s dick just like his mouth had done. His insides were soft and warm and tight, but just loose enough that Desmond could slip in and out. He had never rammed anyone quite so perfect, he thought as he slapped each of Braxton’s big brown cheeks. He watched them jiggle and felt the muscle tense beneath his touch.
“Ha ha! He like it! He lovin’ it! Can I go next, nigga?!”
“I do not! No way!” Braxton groaned. He wrenched his head back and groaned. It sounded like a moan of pain, but Desmond could tell it wasn’t — or rather, there was some real pain there, that was understandable, but even more than that was a wave of prostate orgasm rolling through Braxton’s body. His muscles all tensed, turning him into a giant slab of warm marble into which Desmond slammed his body.
As Braxton squirmed in pain and pleasure, Desmond reached around him. Desmond was so much smaller than Braxton that it wasn’t easy to do. He had to really stretch to get his hands onto Braxton’s dick.
But as soon as he did, he saw that he was right — Braxton was as hard as he had ever been. He must be really enjoying this, or at least enjoying part of it. Luckily from their perspective, Braxton’s friends couldn’t see that he was hard. All they saw was Braxton’s intense squirming and his agonized grunts.
Desmond decided to lie. “Come on, you gotta get yo’ dick hard, nigga,” he said. The men outside laughed, calling Braxton a limp-dick nigga, but it was clear they were disappointed — it’d have been easier to make fun of him if he was hard when he got it up the ass.
Of course, his dick was hard. He grunted as it throbbed and leaked precum into Desmond’s fingers. He tried to whisper something, but he couldn’t quite form any words. Desmond could tell he wanted to say thanks for Desmond pretending he wasn’t hard, and Desmond responded by affectionately licking the small of Braxton’s back.
The more Desmond plowed back and forth, the more intense was Braxton’s reaction. Since he was such a big man, his every motion provoked an even bigger response in Desmond’s body as he tried to keep up. Braxton even lifted himself up, forcing Desmond to climb onto his back.
He couldn’t really hump effectively in this position. His dick was all the way deep inside Braxton, throbbing within his guts, but his feet were not on the floor anymore. Braxton thrashed and grunted, and Desmond could do little more than hold on to his meaty shoulder with one hand, while his other hand gripped Braxton’s cock — he couldn’t even get enough leverage to masturbate Braxton, all he did was hold on as Braxton squirmed.
“Wreck dat nigga, nigga!”
“You can use his tears as lube, Desmond!”
From a distance, to the men in the window, it no doubt looked like Braxton was in tremendous pain, like tiny Desmond was holding him down and ramrodding him hard. But in fact, Desmond could barely maintain his position. He wiggled his hips a bit, moving his cock around within Braxton’s ass, but all the power came from Braxton, who shifted and moved, tightened and relaxed his ass, and humped his hips so he that humped Desmond’s hand and penetrated himself with Desmond’s cock at the same time.
In the end, Braxton even shot his load first. Desmond clutched desperately to his shoulder with his left hand, while his right held onto Braxton’s throbbing cock.
Cum sprayed over Desmond’s fingers, bursting forth in a thick torrent that coated the floor of the backroom. Braxton moaned loudly, and the pleasurable tenor of his voice was unmistakeable. His spine shook and he threw his head back as beads of sweat dappled his flesh.
“Hot damn, nigga, looks like Desmond gettin’ you good!”
“You wanna take my dick next, Braxton?!”
Braxton shook his head and grunted, heaving deeply for air. He finally relaxed enough to drop back down to all fours, which placed Desmond back on his feet on the ground.
He breathed a sigh of relief. He had no sooner flexed his hips one time when an intense orgasm began deep within him. His cock slid all the way into Braxton’s ass, making the bigger man contort all over again.
Braxton’s exhausted knees buckled, and he slid to the floor. His belly landed with a splat in the puddle of cum he had just spewed out, while he groaned into the cement floor.
With his arms spreading over Braxton’s thick back, massaging the muscles there, Desmond shot his own load deep into Braxton’s ass. Though he couldn’t see it of course, it felt like a huge wad of cum, thick and creamy, spreading into Braxton’s guts. They both moaned together, Desmond’s weaker voice harmonizing with Braxton’s baritone boom.
He kept going as he came, because Desmond loved doing that — they called it butter-churning. His cock slid in and out, lubricated by his own load. Pangs of unimaginable bliss shot up Desmond’s spine, and judging from the way Braxton sighed at the same time, he experienced the same thing.
Since he kept penetrating Braxton, churning butter in his guts, Desmond’s cum soon turned into a thick, frothy mess. It dripped out of Braxton’s ass, the pearly white color of Desmond’s cum contrasting with the deep brown of Braxton’s skin. It soaked into his ass-hair and dripped between his legs onto the floor.
At last, Desmond was limp. He could have laid like that, head resting on Braxton’s broad sweat-dripping back, for hours. But he could tell that Braxton was getting calmer, which meant his ass was going to start hurting now that the adrenaline rush was over.
“You like that, big boi! Sure look like you loved it!”
So Desmond pulled out. He kissed Braxton’s bare shoulders, and pulled out some wetnaps he always kept back here. He wiped off his own cock and carefully cleaned all of the cum and santorum that had dripped out of Braxton’s ass.
Aside from wincing a little when Desmond’s fingers and his wetnaps touched Braxton’s sensitive asshole, Braxton remained still and silent, recovering. Then he rolled over to let Desmond wipe off the cum from his belly and his limp, pulsating cock. He smiled bashfully.
“That weren’t so bad, nigga,” he said. He whispered, looking suspiciously towards the window as though his friends might try to climb in (which was impossible anyway, since it was only a very narrow half-window). “Don’t tell them I said that though. Tell them I didn’t cum. Tell them I didn’t even get hard. Tell them I’m too gangsta.”
“Okay. The girls didn’t say you had to cum too?”
“Nah,” he said as he stretched his legs and stood on weak knees. “That was it.” He smiled. “Ah, hell yeah, they gonna let me watch. I bet they let me finger ’em too while they do it.”
“Good luck,” Desmond said. “If you ever wanna play Truth or Dare with me, come on by.”
He smiled politely, but he shook his head. “That’s a baby’s game. We only play it wit’ bitches cuz they act like fuckin’ babies,” he said. He slowly got dressed. “But, I mean… maybe we could mess around sometime. I mean, not like we normally do. But, y’know…”
“Yeah,” Desmond said. He waited to put his own clothes on so he could watch Braxton’s naked body for as long as possible. “I do know, and I’d like that very much.”

The Basketball Team

Lance is teaching financial literacy to some basketball players when they have trouble concentrating… they need someone to service their manly needs, and Lance is eager to help out. Can Lance keep their attention long enough to finish his presentation?

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

“Okay, guys, I know this isn’t fun,” Lance said. “But it is important. You won’t be able to play basketball your whole lives, so the money you make now needs to work for you for a long time to come.”
The team sat in front of him in the locker room. Lance would have rather done this in a more formal environment, but Coach Thickman had said that if you take the players somewhere else, like Lance’s office, after the game, a lot of them will sneak away. ‘You gotta git ’em when they still in the locker room’, Coach Thickman had said.
“Alright, before we talk about your options, let’s go over some terminology,” Lance said. “First off, risk. I’m sure you all use the word risk, but in finance it’s a very important concept. All investment is about balancing risk, and-” Once he got into the flow, he could tune out any distractions. He had perfect tunnel vision for this presentation. After having given this exact spiel plenty of times, he had it more or less memorized.
But he was mid-monologue when he realized most of the team wasn’t paying attention. They were either on their phones or chatting with each other, and one was distractedly rolling a joint as though it required all his concentration. None of them even seemed aware that they were supposed to be paying attention to Lance, like they thought he just came here to monologue about finance in an empty locker room and was willing to do it around them. Lance’s voice trailed off.
“Hey, gentlemen, shut up!” Coach Thickman barked, his voice weary and glowering. He jumped in front of Lance and meanmugged at the players. They did shut up, but they glared at Coach Thickman, whose broad, bare chest gleamed as he stared his team down. “This is an important presentation, and y’all gots to hear e’ry word of it.”
A long pause followed. Lance wasn’t sure if this was normal, or if the players were seriously challenging Coach Thickman’s authority. Thickman furrowed his brow in expectation of utter obedience and furrowed it deeper when the players looked at him like a crazy person for telling them what to do. A few rebellious snickers underhushed, and someone muttered, “Shut that ol’ nigga up.”
“Get’cha butts in the sauna!” Thickman said. “Now!”
The players groaned but stood. They clucked their tongues against their teeth as they sauntered away. More than a few glared at Coach Thickman and licked their teeth, punching fists into the palms of theit other hands, but they all did as told.
They didn’t move quickly though. They sort of sauntered in, all except for the one white player on the team, who hurried in first. Lance wondered if this meant his presentation was over.
When Thickman barked at the others, they hustled into top gear. “I ain’t say mosey into the sauna like sleepy glaciers, did I? I said get’cha booties in the sauna right now, pissheads!” They darted into the sauna, and all conversation stopped.
Lance blushed and bristled. Was that it? Did Coach Thickman think Lance was so useless as to make the presentation irrelevant? Lance was surprised how little of a chance he got. He hadn’t grabbed their attention in the first thirty seconds, and Coach Thickman had just given right up? That didn’t seem fair.
Then Coach Thickman’s hefty hand clasped Lance’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, hoss, they don’t wanna pay attention to nobody. You can give your spiel in a sauna, right?”
“Uh… in a sauna?”
“They’ll be naked, you comfortable wit’ that? You ain’t gotta be naked too. I mean… you can’t really go in there in a suit, you gonna get heat stroke fo’ real. But you can go in there in yo’ drawers,” Thickman said, walking away. “They won’t listen anywhere else. Too many distractions.”
Lance’s heart started pounding. He certainly didn’t mind hanging out in a sauna with a bunch of naked basketball players — Lance was a keen admirer of the male form, so he would enjoy that very much. He’d never given his financial-risk spiel in his underwear though. Would they mind if he was in there with them? What if he got a hardon?
The boisterous chatting of the players made it easy for him to find the sauna, which was at the far end of the locker room. Lance folded his clothes and left them on the bench outside the sauna. He kept his boxer shorts and a t-shirt on, since he knew his body would look pitiful in comparison to the players’s. He wasn’t in bad shape, but he was skinny and short by comparison.
“Yo, Coach, where dat white man at? My balls is stickin’, nigga! I gots bitches beggin’ me to come over, man! Let’s hurry dis shit up!”
When Lance walked in, one of the players — Trent Wyatt, a power forward — was standing right in front of the door, stark-naked, pantomiming aggressive action, he must have been who was bragging about bitches through the closed door. He bucked his hips into an imaginary woman, his thick cock flopping with every thrust of his body. His toned ass was dappled with sweat from the humid air of the sauna.
They all stopped laughing at Trent and looked at Lance. Everyone was quiet for a second.
Then Trent said, “So I told her it’s s’posed to hurt, you s’posed to bring along a girlfriend to lick yo’ pussy at the same time. Ain’t mah fault women hate you too much to get on that girl-girl trip wit’ cha.” That made his team burst into laughter all over again.
It finally died down after a minute or two, and the men all looked to Lance. He blushed, both from embarrassment and from overheating in the crowded, steamy sauna. Trent moved out of the way so Lance could address the whole team. Lance’s bare chest gleamed with sweat.
“Okay, guys, this is really important,” Lance said. “I know it feels like you’re gonna have this income forever, but you won’t. You can’t play until you’re old men. You-“
“But we’s gonna have sponsorship deals and shit, right?”
“Uh, well, some of you probably will, but not all of you, and that won’t pay like-“
They all cheered and clapped their hands as if that ended it. Lance waited until they were done before speaking again.
“That won’t last as long as you think, guys. Unless your name is Michael Jordan-“
But they weren’t listening again. They were talking over his words, bragging about what they intended to do with the money when they finally got it. They spoke of buying islands, of mansions around the world, servants by the fleet and yachts by the flotilla.
“Hey! Hey! Hey, guys!” Lance yelled until he had their attention again. “Please, y’all, let me get through this. You’ll make enough to retire as long as that money is wisely invested. Not in boats or tropical islands, but in income-generating assets. Who knows-“
“I got some income-generatin’ assets waitin’ for me back at the crib,” said one of the players. He chuckled a deep, raspy laugh, and the others joined in with him. “She about this tall, and she got a ass that ain’t nevuh quit.”
The door to the sauna opened. Coach Thickman barged in. The players all fell silent at once. Their eyes were downcast, avoiding contact with either Lance or Coach Thickman. Thickman wore his sweatpants and a sleeveless shirt, and his shirt became soaked in sweat from the steamy sauna.
“Hey, you goddamn shitwads, shut yo’ fuckholes and listen up! Cuz I know from personal experience that at least a half-dozen of you gonna call me in the next year, and be all ‘oh Coach Thickman, I spent all my money at a casino in Vegas and buying high-class whores fo’ mah niggas and now I needs you to pay mah child support or else I’s goin’ to jail and can’t play next month.’ And I ain’t havin’ that. Not even a li’l bit, nah,” Coach Thickman said. He crossed his arms over his chest and frowned. “Put yo’ jockstraps on anyway. Mr. Williams here don’t wanna look at yo’ wingwangs.”
“Reckon he does…” someone said.
Lance didn’t see who said that, but it was obvious that someone had guessed he was into that. It was hard to hide his interest surrounded by jocks. Lance had managed to avoid getting a hardon, but it must have been apparent from the expression on his face and his body language that he enjoyed the physiques of the men around him.
“Hey! Nah!” Coach Thickman barked. “Don’t accuse the nice white man of nothin’.” When some of the players nodded their agreement, Thickman paused. He looked at Lance and raised his eyebrows. Lance blushed. The players hooted. Thickman frowned. “Okay, well, maybe, but still, you best shut yo’ mouths til he finishes his talk.”
“C’mon, old nigga, we got this,” Trent said. He stood up and wagged his dick, swaying his hips to make it slap against each thigh in turn. “Y’old man…”
Lance’s eyes were drawn to Trent’s massive cock. It was nearly a foot long and thicker than Lance’s forearm, and it was moist from the humid air, so it gleamed, the dark skin of Trent’s shaft practically glowing in the well-lit sauna.
“Hey all y’all shut the hell up,” Thickman said. “The league says you gotta listen to this white man’s speech. You gotta have financial advisement, fellas. Tomorrow I gotta fill out a little piece of paper and send it to the league. It’s gonna have the name of every nigga here — and you, Dirk — every nigga who listen up about finances. Whichever motherfucker ain’t on that list, ain’t gonna be playin’ till next season. Got it?” No one spoke, not even Dirk, the token white guy. Then Coach Thickman cleared his throat and opened the door. “So all you niggas best shut the hell up. And you too, Dirk. Listen good.”
“Thanks for rememberin’ me, Coach,” Dirk said with a laugh as the door shut.
For a moment all was silent. Lance was nervous. He felt like a bad substitute teacher who needed the teacher from the classroom next door to keep his students in line. Everyone looked at him.
The heat had begun to get to him as well. His underwear and shirt were plastered to his skin with sweat. Lance cleared his throat. “Okay, well… I’m going to assume that you guys know absolutely nothing about financial investing. That’s probably not true, but I don’t know what you do know, so-“
“Yo, math nerd!” Trent called out. “Nobody gives a shit. We all know what to invest in.”
“Do you?”
“Yeah,” Trent said. “I gots a recording studio, man. I got-“
“You have a recording studio? Does it make a profit?”
Trent paused. “I mean… I got an idea for a recording studio. Alright?”
“What’s that?”
“It’s a place you record-“
“No, I know what a recording studio is. What’s your idea for one?”
“Gonna record all the rappers in town, man, all of ’em. I got connects with everyone around here, man. Ain’t gonna be Crips-only or Bloods-only, gonna get ’em all.”
“No you won’t,” Lance said. The sauna was silent for the first time since he had walked in. “You won’t get a single one. Recording studios are one of the riskiest businesses out there. The major record companies can offer multiyear, multimillion-dollar guarantees. You won’t be able to match that, and in any case, recorded music is barely profitable to begin with. Even if you win, you’ll lose money,” Lance said. “You know you’ll have to hire a dozen sound engineers to run that properly right?”
“I can do that.”
“Cuz your multimillion dollar salary from the league is paid out over a couple years,” Lance said. “Those sound engineers are gonna start costin’ you thousands a month on day one — they aren’t cheap. They demand salaries. They demand a guarantee of a job — they won’t move from here for some basketball player’s month-long whim. You’re gonna have to guarantee them a job, one that pays as much as your job is gonna pay. And you know what? They won’t sign up a single rapper. In addition to spending all your money opening a studio and spending all your time hiring sound engineers, you’re gonna have to spend all your time signing those rappers. Oh, and I almost forgot, your professional basketball career will take up essentially all of your time,” Lance said. “I’ve seen hundreds of athletes try to open up a recording studio. You know how many have made a profit?” He paused for effect. “Wait… fuck that, you know how many actually built a functioning recording studio that created at least one actual commercial recording? Zero. Not a single one. Fact is, it’ll take like a third of your salary over the next ten years just to build the recording studio, that’s before you buy any equipment for it, hire anyone to work it or start recording a single song. Again, there’s no money in recorded music anyway. You’d be better off opening a bar that books live acts.” Lance paused. “But don’t do that! Bars are an awful investment!”
There was a long pause. Everyone looked at Trent, whose eyes were downcast. Lance blushed. He hadn’t meant to go off on a rant like that. Every athlete he spoke to these days wanted to open a recording studio, and it was a dismal failure every single time.
“I’m sorry,” Lance said. “But really, I want you guys to succeed. You will be making enough money that you can retire. You can have fun in a recording studio. You can give money to your friends. You can buy jerseys for the little kids in your old neighborhood. But first you have to learn about mutual funds, not fantasize about glamor businesses. The most profitable businesses are boring, behind the scenes things, companies you’ve never heard of.”
Lance cleared his throat. He had their attentions now, but now he was so sweaty — and a bit horny — that he had trouble remembering his spiel. He closed his eyes and went over the beginning again in his mind.
“Okay,” he said. “Let’s talk about a few words you should know. Who can tell me what inflation is?”
“Yo, I’m too horny fo’ this right now,” said one of the players, a light-skinned man with a handsome face and bouncing dreadlocks. “Trent was talkin’ ’bout his bitches ‘fore you walked in, and now I can’t stop thinkin’ ’bout ’em.”
Another player jumped in. “Plus you made me think about girls. Who’s gonna see that new Sally Anne Whitaker joint, huh? I’s ’bout to bust mah nut just thinkin’ ’bout that bitch. She gimme stiffies for real.”
That caused another bout of laughter and boasting from the players. This didn’t last very long, however, before Trent yelled for silence.
“Hey, y’all niggas shut the hell up. If we let ‘im finish, we can all go fuck our bitches,” Trent said.
“Let’s just ram ‘im, he obviously wants it,” said a player. Lance couldn’t tell who it was who said that, but as soon as he did, Lance shuddered a little. Then he smiled as they all laughed — it was obvious Lance wanted it. That comment helped to shatter the awkwardness of the situation.
Everyone fell silent, waiting for Lance to respond. Lance couldn’t think of anything to say at all, he couldn’t bring himself to get on his knees and start servicing them all, even if that’s what he wanted to do, and he couldn’t remember how to continue his presentation. He was utterly dumbfounded, couldn’t agree, couldn’t disagree, couldn’t do anything but stand there in his boxers like a nerd.
“Alright, well let’s do it,” Trent said. He jumped to his feet and approached with his cock in hand. He gave it a stroke. His team chittered, as though they thought he was all-talk.
Lance dropped to his knees. He had a feeling this was going to turn out to be a big prank, like Trent was going to throw a cream pie in his face instead of his cock, but he couldn’t just decline.
“Go’n nigga, damn!”
“Throat the honky down, Trent!”
The other players oohed and aahed, which turned into whooping and hollering when Trent fed his dick down Lance’s throat. He had a cocky smile on his face like he was glad to be the most adventurous player on the team.
The taste of sweaty cockmeat overwhelmed Lance. This was all happening so quick that he gagged on the flavor, then began excitedly deep-throating. Trent’s cock was only just starting to firm up, but he swallowed it as deep as he could get it, making the other players cheer and laugh. He nestled his nose in Trent’s thick pubic bush.
“Lemme in there, nigga,” said one of the other players. He thwacked his cock against Lance’s cheek. Trent grumbled, but he didn’t say no, not even when their cocks glancingly touched each other, which made both men wince and look away. Both looked like they would have objected, but nobody wanted to get called out as squeamish by the others.
Lance moved from Trent to the next player, Jashwan, a tall and lean thug who sneered at Lance. He gripped Lance by both ears and began plowing his face. “Take it, bitch, you little nerd, damn…”
“Force it down that bitch’s throat!”
“Lemme in there-“
“-feels like a shallow pussy-“
“Damn, honky got throat, yo!”
They were in a circle around Lance now, and they laughed as they passed his head between them. Each person grabbed him by the ear, pushed their dick into his throat until he gagged, then passed him onto whoever was next.
“Damn,” that Jashwan Mitchell said, “I ain’t nevuh had a whiteboy on mah dick ‘cept a prison bitch. They actually handle a dick pretty good when you ain’t forcin’ it.”
His teammtes all laughed, but stopped just a moment later when someone shot his load already. It was a burly, mustachioed black man named Deontay, who appeared to be embarrassed at cumming so soon. He sprayed his load right over Lance’s face and a little even got on Trent’s cockshaft before he pulled away.
“Yo, I oughtta beat yo’ ass fo’ that, nigga! You got yo’ cum on me!”
“Damn, that nigga lasted about three minutes…”
Trent’s anger vanished as the rest of the team laughed at Deontay, who stroked his limpening cock like he didn’t notice them guffawing at him. His creamy cum dripped into Lance’s mouth as Lance licked every drop off.
“Taste sum white meat now, honky!” said Dirk, the team’s only white player, causing a burst of hilarious laughter from the others. He rammed his dick in Lance’s mouth. Lance got the distinct impression that this was Dirk’s first time with a man, and that he wouldn’t have agreed except everyone else did and he didn’t want to be left out. His dick was soft, but it jerked to full attention once Lance started working on it.
Soon enough Dirk was in the same circle as the others, laughing as they pulled Lance from cock to cock. Precum coated Lance’s tongue, the salty flavor combining with the general air of sweatiness in the cramped sauna. He loved that taste, and he licked the sweat off their heavy scrotums.
“Hey, let’s bukkake the math nerd!”
It was Trent’s idea, but everyone was into it. They thought the idea was hilarious, and no one asked Lance if it was okay with him. It was, of course, but it would have been nice to be asked. Also, Lance wasn’t a math nerd. He was a business nerd, and he used to work as a merchant marine and even a lumberjack, but it didn’t feel like a good moment to bring that up, and his mouth was full of dickmeat.
“Oh, nasty! This sauna gonna get real gross real quick!”
He loved it when guys painted cum all over his face. That was precisely what center Khyree Pankhurst did just a moment after they agreed to bukkake. He grabbed Lance by the forehead and sprayed cum all over Lance’s face.
It dripped over his body as Lance jerked Khyree’s dick until it was totally limp and had no more cum dripping off the tip. He thought that was it, that no one would touch his face now that it had cum all over it, but the next player to go was Lamar, the one they call a prettyboy cuz he had Nickelodeon dimples and few tattoos. Despite his prettyboy face, he had no compunctions about smearing jizz over Lance’s nose and cheeks with his dick, which he then jacked off into Lance’s mouth. When he came, he pulled out to spray his nut all over Lance’s already cream-coated face.
“Damn, that nigga touched that cummy face! Fuckin’ gross!”
“Buncha little babies,” Lamar grumbled as he stepped away. “How y’all ever gangbang a bitch if’n you ’boutta explode every time you get a little nut on ya?” He wiped semen from his fingers onto Lance’s shoulder.
After Lamar, the men burst one after another in quick succession. They cared less and less with every passing second about touching each other’s cum. Two of them even shot at the same time then, both big pulsating shafts resting on Lance’s face as he stroked them off with both hands. Their fleshy cocktips touched as they sprayed salty seed over Lance’s face.
“Nigguz make a mess, damn!”
Then came Dirk, who blushed as he approached. He definitely avoided touching Lance’s face, right up until he actually orgasmed. He closed his eyes and his dick twitched until it touched Lance’s lips. A big ball of sticky cum dripped there, touching Dirk’s finger and cocktip.
That made him shudder in disgust. Even with his eyes closed, Dirk could tell what was happening, that his cock was touching other men’s cum. His discomfort made it obvious to the other players as well, and they laughed away the awkwardness.
“White man gettin’ nasty too, nice!”
It was Trent who approached with his cock, still rock-hard since he had been saving himself to go last, and wrapped one arm around Dirk’s still-orgasming shoulders. “Come on, whiteboi,” he said. “Don’t tell me you never gangbanged a bitch befo’?”
Then Trent put his limp cock on Lance’s face right next to Dirk’s throbbing white member. Dirk blushed and gagged in disgust but didn’t complain, even as Trent’s ropy muscles left a layer of sweat over his body and Dirk’s cock dribbled the last of his cum all over Trent’s cockshaft.
“Lookit that whiteboi blush, he ain’t nevuh jousted dicks befo’, huh?”
A part of Lance felt bad about making Dirk uncomfortable — the rest of the team acted as though no man had ever become an adult without jousting cocks in someone’s mouth — but Lance was so aroused he couldn’t resist. He took both cocktips in his mouth at once, mashed them both together and flickered his tongue in both pissholes.
“He’e it cums, white man, you gonna taste this fo’ real…”
Before Dirk could pull away, Trent had his own orgasm. He sprayed his load all over Lance’s tongue and teeth, and Lance kept his mouth moving so the entire wad of nut coated Dirk’s limpening cockshaft. Lance sucked it up, then spat it out over both Dirk’s and Trent’s dicks then sucked it up, then spat it out, and he only stopped when they both pulled away.
Lance sat there for a moment, savoring the feel of cum covering his face. He barely even noticed that he was masturbating himself, not until that moment, when he shot his own load onto the floor.
“Ew, nasty-ass pervert, gettin’ his own nut e’rywhere!”
Pleasure undulated through his body, along with a potent sense of shame as the team laughed at him. He blushed and looked down, embarrassed even as an incredible orgasm washed over him. He laughed with the others though, as they swatted dicks and flicked jizz at each other.
At last it was all over. Lance slowly licked all the cum off his face as the players wiped their dicks clean, breathing heavily and speaking quietly — their boisterousness was mostly gone now.
Lance rose to his feet. “Uh, okay…” The men all laughed at his awkwardness.
“Go on, man,” Trent said. the whole team fell quiet. “We need to know this shit. What is inflation anyway?”
“Yeah. When you’re done, can we do that again? I’ll be ready to get hard again,” said Lamar.
Lance blushed and smiled. He gathered his breath. “Absolutely,” he said to throngs of cheering. “And if you want… every time you come to my office to talk about your options, I’ll jerk you off again.”

The Workers

At this work camp, the men get their needs met one way or another…

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Neil thought the difficult part of this job would be living out in the middle of nowhere — literally. He worked for a mining company’s construction crew, building employee housing and other structures on a remote mountainside in southeastern Alaska. He and his fellow workers had been hired from all over the world and brought here to live in the woods. It would take most of a year to build, but at the end, almost an entire town would exist here where currently there was nothing.
But the isolation and boredom were not that big of a deal. After a few weeks, Neil got used to that. The guys he worked with were loud and outgoing, and more friendly than Neil would have thought. The middle of nowhere was okay when you had a couple dozen guys to live with.
It turned out, however, that the most difficult part of the job was taking a shower. There was no plumbing out here, of course, that was one of the things being built in this work camp. So they had to use a “hygiene tent” for showering.
The hygiene tent was simply a large, ordinary tent outside of camp, just like the tents Neil and the other workers lived in. The only thing that made the hygiene tent special was that it was rigged up with hoses as showerheads and had a constant campfire with coals out front to heat up the water before showers. It was living rough, but it was pretty nice as far as living rough went. Neil liked to camp, so it seemed fine to him, in the abstract.
It was difficult in practice, however, because Neil had to shower with others.
The idea hadn’t bothered him — he was on the baseball team in college, so he was used to changing in a group. But it was different here. In college, everyone had been embarrassed. They got naked as little as possible and they tried to avoid looking at each other. They showered as far away from each other as possible, without talking, and as quickly as they could. Nobody looked at each other’s cocks. Even hinting that you might have seen a buddy’s penis was considered an unpardonable offense.
Here, the men were older, rougher, many of them having spent time in prison. Others had been homeless for a time, some were recovering drug addicts, and one had spent years doing missionary work in Honduras. They were not self-conscious at all. Some of them got naked as soon as work was done for the day, and they just sat around drinking beer and scratching their balls.
That was not something Neil had ever experienced before. They thought nothing of it, just dropping trou and letting it all hang out. One man even had a big scar on his dick — Neil didn’t notice at first, of course, because he didn’t look, but then the others kept making jokes about how that man’s cock had been torn off by some “crazy chick”. Neil couldn’t help but look, it was just a joke, his cock was there, but scarred.
“Man, if a girl showed up here, swear to God… I don’t even care how crazy she is, I’d fuck the shit outta any female who gives up the pussy. She could be as fat as all hell, more cushion for the pushin’!”
“My pops used to do this kind of work, he said they used to send prostitutes to live here too. They were just part of the crew. Ain’t allowed to do that no mo’.”
Neil wasn’t used to people talking like that. He was from a nice middle-class household. Nobody spoke of prostitutes openly (or even in secret), and they certainly didn’t sit around stark naked. He tried to pretend to fit in though. The one time he got made fun of was when he saw two Confederate-flag-tatted rednecks take their limp cocks out and sword-fight with each other.
A gasp escaped from Neil’s lips at the sight of their rough old-man cocks rubbing against each other. Neil blushed — he probably seemed like some Victorian-era elite, ready to flop onto a fainting couch. Neil hated that he came across that way, but he couldn’t help it. This was gross and unsanitary, and he didn’t care who knew he felt that way. “You’re touching dicks!”
“You never touched a man’s cock before?”
“Check out the lily-livered pussy! Hey, you scared of a real man’s dick!”
“No!” Neil said, blushing. “I just don’t cotton to touching other men’s cocks.”
“Well, shit, you just wait for Rob to show up. He’ll set ya straight.”
“Rob’ll swallow you til you come out the other end, boy! He’ll rock ya world!”
Neil didn’t want to ask who Rob was. He was picturing some giant hillbilly who would make him ‘do things’ at night. He was already picturing himself squealing like a piggie.
But instead, Rob turned out to be a slim, delicate man with a flirtatious lilt to his voice and a feminine hourglass-shape to his body. He came to every work camp in the area, it seemed, and he helped the men get a nut off and relieve their stiffies. It sounded disgusting to Neil, but he took it in stride.
The tradition was called the Power Shower — that was why Rob came to this camp. Every man in the camp was “required” to let a man jack him off in the hygiene tent. Depending on who you asked, it was either a rule every day, every week, every month or just once in a lifetime. They all said men worked better once they had drained their nuts, and management didn’t want them swaggering into town on leave with swollen balls and Roman hands.
The weirdo, Rob, who presumably was hired to service the roughnecks, was supposed to do it at night, when everyone else was asleep. That meant there was no way to verify it, but they all treated it like a requirement.
He planned on lying about it. He waited for a night when nobody was up late, figuring he could claim it had happened that night and nobody would believe him. A few others had made it pretty clear they didn’t do it even though it was “required”, so it was obviously not a real requirement. Neil fully intended to just make it up. Nobody could prove or disprove it happened. A lot of the other workers did accuse each other of faking it, of being impotent, of being cowards, and they all denied it. Each roughneck would have to do or do not, or lie or lie not, as he saw fit. Rob had made it clear he wouldn’t confirm or deny that anyone had done it. Rob did say it was a requirement, that he was promised every roughneck cock in the camp, but he did not claim that everyone actually did it.
So that was Neil’s plan. He’d wait until he fit in better, and then he’d say he did, but he’d say it had happened a few weeks before, like it was no big deal at all at the time. A lot of them treated it like that, as though they got jerked off by men all the time (which, Neil supposed, was possibly true).
But that wasn’t how it turned out at all. Neil never got a chance to pretend it had happened. Before he even knew what was happening, he had done it.
Neil woke up one morning early — he was the only man in camp who occasionally woke up before dawn — and stumbled out to take a piss. He realized Rob was there, cooking breakfast over an open fire. Neil nodded a bleary-eyed hello at him.
And then he realized he was so horny his balls could burst. He’d been stressed out since getting here, but only now felt comfortable enough to realize how horny he was. He wanted to fuck more than anything. He’d had a sexy dream that he only half-remembered, but the part he remembered was that he nearly got to fuck a woman. He woke up right before the sex began, and now he was more horny than he’d been in a long time.
Damn, he wanted to fuck.
Respectfully. With a respectful manner towards the woman. As part of a dutiful relationship. Neil gulped.
His ex was in that dream. Claire was her name, she was blonde as the sun, with tits like… and a personality Neil appreciated. She was smart. A college graduate. She was so hot the thought of her made his dick throb. He wished he’d had a wet dream. When he was a younger man, if he had a dream like that, he absolutely would have. He’d have woken up mid-orgasm, cum spurting over his chest and belly.
But nowadays, he needed some real stimulation.
Rob looked at him and winked. “Hey,” he said. He stood at an angle, like a woman waiting to be asked to dance. He was fey and limp-wristed, and Neil didn’t much want to get to know him. He wondered how much Rob got paid for doing this shit. He didn’t ask though. It must be a lot.
Neil grunted. He decided to go take a shower in the hygiene tent to calm down. A cold shower would help.
I bet Rob swallows dick all the way down. Girls don’t really deep-throat, but that weirdo probably does.
He tried not to think about that. He went into the shower tent and turned on the hot water. He liked showering early because there was plenty of hot water. The coals had been burning all night, and the water bubbled away outside the hygiene tent
He turned around, and saw Rob standing in front of him. Rob grinned. “Hey,” he said again. “Are you ready for your Power Shower?”
“Uh…” Neil wanted to say no, but he couldn’t think of a reason to refuse. He wanted a nut so bad it hurt. Just thinking about it made his dick twitch. No one would know. Rob probably wouldn’t say, and even if he did, he often made grandiose claims as a joke. Rob claimed that guy Cooter had a sixteen-inch cock, and they all saw in the shower that it wasn’t that. Nobody would just believe Rob automatically.
A jolt of realization flooded Neil — a lot of guys left it unclear whether they had done it or merely joked about doing it, or whether they did it willingly or only because there was a “rule”. That vagueness, he thought, must be because they were all as uncertain about it as Neil. Nobody could ever be criticized for it if it was never clear who had done it or not.
So there was no reason not to do it. No one would know. Neil could do it here in the dark, and it’d be like it never happened.
By the time he had talked himself into it, Neil felt his dick disappearing into Rob’s mouth. The dim light of the hygiene tent made it seem a lot easier because Neil could easily pretend it was a girl on his cock. A woman. A respectful, respectable woman, whom Neil respected. Unlike these other roughnecks, Neil went to college, and he wanted to act like it.
A soft warmth suffused his body, and the stresses drifted out with each one of his rapidly hastening breath. Pleasure erupted through his veins. Neil’s knees almost buckled, and he held onto the fabric wall of the hygiene tent until that made the whole thing shake. He let go.
“Oh shit…” Neil tried to stay quiet, but his breathing grew jagged and harsh as his dick rocketed to full erection. Little spams of sensations wracked his muscular frame, and his hands tightened into claws that dug at the air around him. He clenched his teeth. “Daaaaamn…”
He’d never had felt like this. He hadn’t realized it until now, but he suspected that no girl had ever really wanted to give him a blowjob — they did it to be nice, or as foreplay, but not because they loved sucking dick.
Rob, it was obvious, actually loved the taste of dick. He deep-throated Neil’s cock until his nose nuzzled Neil’s pubic hair. Flashes of intense ecstasy shot up Neil’s spine, and he sucked in his breath. Neil shifted his weight around, as it felt so good it was kind of cunfomortable.
He was on the verge of orgasm right away. If he weren’t nervous and focused on trying to be quiet, he would have blown his wad immediately. He was glad to take a little longer because it would have been embarrassing otherwise. Real men don’t blow their nut too quickly.
Neil found himself gripping Rob’s head and feeding his dick down his throat. He had never done anything like that. He threw his head back and nearly howled like a wolf — he managed to swallow the sound, so he just screwed up his mouth and face as he opened his mouth.
Then, at last, an orgasm ripped through him. Cum sprayed down Rob’s throat and into his belly. The most intense pleasure of Neil’s life flowed like a flood in his veins, and his knees buckled.
“Goddamn…” A second fat load of jizz spurted into Rob, as Neil’s cock slowly slid out. Neil’s whole body undulated when he choked, which massaged another final long spurt of cum. A long chest-rattled moan came from Neil, and a murky gurgling groan of desire came Rob, as he slurped down every drop of cum he could get at.
Rob pulled off his dick. He wiped his lips off. “Lemme guess… lacrosse?”
“What?” Neil was breathless and exhausted.
“Which sport did you play in college? Was it lacrosse? I’m trying to develop a talent for guessing sports based on cum flavor,” Rob said. He laughed. “You taste like a lacrosse jock.”
Neil blushed. “Oh, well… I played baseball more, but yeah, I went to a Maryland prep school, we were required to play lacrosse too. I’m more of a baseball guy, I played baseball in college.”
“I’ll count that one as a win,” Rob said. He stood and stretched his knees. He wiped cum off his face, then he slurped up what he could get off the back of his hand. “You can thank me now.”
“Thanks.”
“And now you get to watch my ass as I walk away,” Rob said. He swayed his hips as he walked out of the shower tent. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone you did it.”
Rob walked away with a spring in his step. He hadn’t expected Neil to be that horny so soon, but he was glad to have taken advantage of it. Most guys took a few months to succumb. But Neil was younger than most, Rob thought, so he probably had virile balls, loaded with cum. Rob had a sixth sense about which workers were likely to give up the dick soon, and for tonight, he had his eyes set on a rough-faced worker named Dog Barren.
Dog lead a daily prayer before dinner. The others rolled their eyes at it, but it seemed no one wanted to be the one who didn’t pray before dinner. This was a Christian work crew. So Dog had everyone hold hands in a circle, while he led them all in a prayer. He remained shirtless, his broad, smooth body covered in the day’s sweat. One of the things that made him intimidating — aside from his muscles and his size — was the swastika and nazi tattoos all over him. During the prayer, that was all Rob could think about.
“I ain’t no nazi,” he had said when he first took his shirt off. His voice was a flat growl, like his throat was lined with razorblades, and he always sounded like he had more to say but wasn’t allowed to say it. “I was in prison. I’s gettin’ ’em removed.” Most of the swastikas were now just faded scars or outlines that hadn’t yet been fully lasered off. One dragon on his bicep was clearly the number 88 that had been turned into a pair of talons, with the dragon drawn to attach to them. “I’s on the Christian road now.”
But alas, he thought, it would never happen. Dog had said no way. He wouldn’t do anything motivated by lust. He saved his seed for a Christian wife. He didn’t say that like he believed it, but he did say it, and he was one of the few roughnecks who had not yet come to Rob in the night.
He was almost ready to give up here and move onto a different camp. A bunch of lumberjacks had set up near Bend, and he could head over there — a lot of them were Latinos who loved ramrodding pasivos. The only reason he didn’t leave was that it was raining, and had been for days, so the ground was muddy. That would make it difficult to get out to the remote lumberjack camp and even more difficult to set up a tent out there.
So Rob stayed. He slept near the hygiene tent. He was a light sleeper, so when someone went in there and turned on the water, he always woke up. That was a signal that someone wanted his mouth.
Today, however, when he went in there just before dawn, he was surprised to see Dog Barren standing alone in the shower water. A long tanned dick dangled between his legs. It was fat and juicy, and it drew Rob’s attention right away.
“Hey. Oh. Hi, sorry,” Rob said. His heart beat. He still didn’t entirely trust that Dog was no longer a nazi. “I just… I didn’t know it was you. Normally people only come out here before dawn if they want a Power Shower. I-“
“Shut up.” Dog chewed on his lower lip. He came closer to Rob.
“Okay. That’s fine.” Rob’s heart quickened, and he took a step back.
“Hmm-hmm. I know it’s fine.” He paused for a long time. He looked Rob up and down. He seemed to angle his body to make sure Rob saw his cock and balls in the battery-operated light of the hygiene tent, but Rob couldn’t tell if that was deliberate or not.
“Oh.”
“Come here,” he said. Rob came closer, and Dog put one heavy hand on his shoulder. He pushed down gently. “What happens at night, once the lights go off… That don’t count. God forgives anything that happens in the dark.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“So why don’t you get on your knees and see what happens.”
“Oh… Okay.” Rob dropped to his knees. Am I really about to jerk off a Nazi? Or a possible-Nazi at least?
But before Rob could second-guess himself, his mouth was pried open, and Dog’s fat cock slipped into his mouth. It was cool from the night air, and limp at first.
It firmed up in seconds though. Dog groaned and murmured. He held onto Rob’s head and fed his cock in until he was all the way down Rob’s throat, and Rob’s tongue snaked out to teasingly touch his balls.
“You see, it ain’t a sin if ya know all the rules,” Dog said. “Like… in the dark, it’s alright to relieve ya sins, and I’m-a do somethin’ else to make it okay.” He pulled his cock out of Rob’s mouth. “But first, boy, I wanna make sure you got discretion. Huh?”
“Yeah-“
Dog grabbed him by the neck with one hand. “That ain’t sound serious. You just said yeah like some slack slut who ain’t think this was important. But I is askin’ you as a Christian to put ya name on a promise before God. Ya feel me?” He smiled and placed one of Rob’s hands on his chest. His pecs flexed beneath Rob’s fingers. “So don’t just mumble yeah wit’out thinkin’. You gonna keep this a secret?”
“Yes, sir,” Rob said, his voice thready and nervous.
“Good. Now bend over on all fours. No talking unless I ask you a question or tell you to do somethin’. Got that?”
“Yes, sir-“
“Don’t call me sir, I ain’t a prison guard,” he said. “Now shut your mouth.”
A jolt of pain shot up Rob’s spine as Dog’s cock rammed into his ass. Dog was tight and struggled to take it all, but he soon felt a surge of pleasure in his bones. He grunted lightly and Dog lightly grabbed the back of his head.
“Shush, no talkin’.”
That made it difficult for Rob. He couldn’t even grunt or moan, even as Dog made loud slurping sounds and chewed on his lip, while his cock gurgled in and out of Rob’s ass. His precum made for a moist sound that filled the air of the shower tent.
Then, before Rob even knew what had happened, Dog had reached around him and grabbed his cock.
“It ain’t no sin if you give a reacharound. Cuz it ain’t motivated purely by lust, ya feel me? Ya doin’ it for a good reason, to make some boy feel good. You pickin’ up what I’m puttin’ down?”
“Yes.” Rob could barely think. The pressure in his ass was potent, and his cock throbbed in Dog’s grasp. Agonizing pleasure shot up Rob’s spine. He nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, uh, yes, I get it. Oh god! Oh god-“
“No talkin’,” Dog said. “I won’t kiss you on the lips, boy. Don’t even ask.” His voice trailed off as he lowered his body onto Rob’s back. Then, despite his words, he forced Rob’s head to the side and kissed him on the lips as his muscles all flexed against Rob’s back.
“Ah…”
“Shush, boy, I ain’t ask you no question,” Dog said. He pinned Rob flat on the wooden floor of the shower tent, pounding and grinding away at his ass while stroking his dick with one hand. Rob had never experienced anything like this. “You love my dick inside you, huh? Say you love my dick inside you, boy.”
“I love your dick inside me,” Rob said. His voice broke as though he was almost in tears, but it was his orgasm breaking inside him. He struggled not to cry out passionately, and when he was unable to control himself, the sound was swallowed up by another kiss from Dog’s mouth.
Dog pulled off as he shot his own wad into Rob’s ass. He opened his mouth, hot breath condensing onto Rob’s cheek. “I won’t ever kiss you, boy, don’t even try.” He slathered Rob in kisses, his cum filling Rob’s with creamy, sticky goodness.
Finally they were both done. Dog stayed in place, his cock limpening inside Rob for a few minutes. At last, every drop of cum had leaked out. He pulled his dick out and spread Rob’s cheeks. He peered at the gaping cream-filled hole the best he could in the dim light of the shower tent.
“I think I love you, boy,” Dog said. “But only for right now. You’s a sinner, and in the light of the Lord’s dear sun, you will soon bask in rays of truth.”
“Uh-huh.”
Dog grunted. “Don’t move, boy. I don’t wanna see you spill a drop. Let my nut fill you up all inside, that way you don’t forget the message I been givin’ you.” He paused. “Yeah, this was a message, boy, a message about religion. You best find yaself the Holy Spirit in ya heart and get forgiveness. Me? I already been forgived, ya feel me?”
“Yeah,” Rob said, too tired to really think about what he was saying.
After a long pause, Dog grabbed the clothes he had come in with. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it. Then he said, “You stay here ten minutes to think about what you done. Not just tonight, all the things you done. I’m goin’ to bed.” He paused. “Bring lube tomorrow night.” Then he walked away without waiting for a response.
“I will.” Rob was dazed and exhausted, yet so satisfied he thought he might never leave. These, he thought, were the workers for him.

Smashwood Trailer Park

Rob is at it again, this time at the legendary Smashwood Trailer Park for an ultra-raunchy tale of redneck, hick, hobo, thug and hillbilly action! It’s filthy… it’s disgusting… it’s gotta be Smashwood!

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Rob Winthrop strode into Smashwood Trailer Park trying to look confident. This was a rough place, and he wasn’t a tough guy. Rob was wealthy, but he hadn’t let on when setting up today’s event. Hopefully nobody knew he was a billionaire. Everyone in the trailer park stared at him surreptitiously, but no one met his gaze.
Smashwood Trailer Park crawled with men. There were a few women too, but Rob could safely ignore them. They would be irrelevant today. Once things got started, they’d probably find better things to do anyway, Rob assumed. That was how it usually happened. And Smashwood was mainly home to single men, this part of it, anyway — the other side of Smashwood was for women and families.
Here was where the single men lived.
A gravel strewn with glitters of glass ran down the way, with a few dirt offshoots leading to tiny cul-de-sacs. The further from the main gravel road, the more rundown the trailers went, culminating in a suburb of sorts of shacks and shanties and lean-tos and cardboard boxes stacked in little palaces of rain-soaked debris, where muddy, unshaved men with wild eyes lived.
He went to the trailer of Baxter Pence, which was on a dirt road but not at the end of one. His was the last proper trailer on this spoke, as it was followed by a burnt-down husk before the trailers became shacks. He glowered at Rob but he opened the door and let him in. Bax Pence was a grungy hick, ropy-muscled and taut like he was hungry — he always looked hungry — with a heavily tattooed body that was very tan because he worked outside — he held up a stop-sign for a road crew — and rarely put a shirt on. He kept a tight wifebeater with him most of the time so he could put it on if he had to go into a store, but he only did that when he needed to. Around here, most stores didn’t give too much of a crap about the whole no-shirt-no-shoes-no-service thing. Bax was so tan he could pass for black if he wore a doo rag.
“Ah, shit, man… Let’s get this over with,” Bax said. “I got shit to do today.” He didn’t reveal what that “shit” was, but it was pretty obvious to Rob — Bax wanted to smoke meth. Or maybe sell meth, but Rob suspected the only reason he might have sold it was in order to buy it and smoke it for himself as well.
He caressed Bax’s ropy-muscled bicep as Bax cleared away some mud-splattered clothes from a small loveseat. His wiry body plopped down on it, and Rob went right to his chest.
He had an amazing six-pack, though it was obviously not because he was in great shape — it was because he was so skinny, he had that meth-addled physique. He even missed one front tooth, and his other teeth were chipped and yellowed. His body was greasy, unwashed for a long time, reeking of sweat and body hair, even though Bax was not hairy.
Rob pulled Bax’s cock out. He put the tip in his mouth and gurgled merrily on the nasty flavor — it was sour and salty, like unclean meat, like a steak you don’t want to eat. But Rob did want to slurp all that nastiness off. Bax’s muscles rippled beneath Rob’s touch. His tattoos were distorted and distended, like they had been done when he was much bigger than he was now.
A few other guys headed to Bax’s trailer, poking their head in but backing off when they saw Bax’s meth-starved body pounding away. No one wanted to seem too eager, so they didn’t line up, they just pretended there was no particular reason to mill around there, yet they did it anyway. They smoked cigarettes and pretended not to sneak peeks inside.
“Ah, shit, boys, he’s doin’ it!” Bax called out. He had decided there was no point in trying to be surreptitious or discrete about it. It was what it was. They all knew what was going on in here. His lithe body bounced back and forth. He wasn’t sure if he still had a hardon at this point, but his dick was in the freak’s mouth, so he was fulfilling his obligation as he saw it. All Bax cared about was getting enough money to buy his next hit of meth. “He best not stiff us, you won’t stiff us, right?”
“I’ll pay, I’ll pay,” Rob said through his moans.
“Oh yeah, Bax’s doin’ it! Bax’s doin’ it!”
“Shut up, man, don’t be a pansy. You’ll be on top-“
“Aw… fuck, there’s no way I’m doing it. I’m no-” That was the young redneck with the blond shaggy mane that was almost a mullet, Cabel Yoder, who kept blushing and looking away but sticking around with a face like someone had a gun to his head. “Aww, man, shit…” He had a big grin on his face. His pecs rippled beneath his sleeveless shirt every time he laughed.
“You sure?”
“You turnin’ down a nut, dude!?”
“Aww, man…” Cabel was clean-cut for a trailer park, in that he had all his teeth and no track marks. He was from a military and firefighter family, and he had some kinda Army crest tattooed on his back, along with rows of thorny roses. His back was lined with muscles. “Should I do it?” His cheeks burned red. He did like getting blowjobs, and he didn’t mind a blowjob from an ugly woman. This was no different, he thought…
Rob’s eyes were bugging out by the time he started to deep-throat Bax, whose cock got hard in his mouth. It was long but not too thick, making Rob wonder if his cock had gotten skinny when Bax started smoking meth just like the rest of Bax’s body got skinny. It tasted grimy, gritty, slimy with layers of sweat caked on, and Rob slurped all of it off. Before he knew it, that Cabel Yoder’s hardon was in his hand too.
“Aaah…” Bax moaned.
But that wasn’t going to happen. He writhed as his cock throbbed in Rob’s mouth. Bax was glad the meth hadn’t ruined his erections yet.
They were all going to ram Rob, all of the men in this trailer park. They were going to do it dirty, they were going to do it nasty, they were going to do it as one massive, multi-man pile-up, and Rob was going to enjoy every moment of it.
Rob got them to do this by promising two things every slice of trailer trash wanted: money and hot chicks.
Or one hot chick anyway: Jaleena Tight the porn star. She had been looking to do some kind of a redneck gangbang movie — they were hot right now — and she needed the rednecks. Rob, a long-time friend of hers, had agreed to provide them, and he middlemanned in the best way he could think of — only those trailer park trash who were willing to ramrod him now would get to gangbang Jaleena later.
So virtually all of them were going to do it. Most of the trailer park was coming in today, from this side of it at least. A couple of married guys from the other side were probably going to sneak over soon, but presumably without telling the wives. This wasn’t the kind of activity wives needed to know about.
“C’mon in, boys,” Rob called out when he sensed Bax was nearly ready to cum. Bax groaned — he had really wanted this gangbang to be more of a serial thing, not all-at-once. He didn’t need all of these white trash fuckheads cumming in his trailer. But that was already happening, with that Cabel Yoder and his buddy Jacob Billyman jousting in Rob’s open mouth, where Bax was smearing his precum on Rob’s tongue.
Rob reached out and pushed the door open, pulling off Bax’s dick for a few seconds to grab it. He thought Bax must have locked it, that was why no one had come in yet.
But the door popped open easily. That wasn’t why no one had come in.
No one wanted to be the first to start. They milled around and poked their heads in, gasping but trying to seem nonplussed when they saw Rob slathering spit up and down the local methhead’s shaft. It throbbed against his tongue, and Rob stroked it with both hands.
“Ah, shit-“
“Nasty-“
It was Cooter — Jethro Wilde — who came in first. He was older than most of the men in the trailer park, and he didn’t see any reason to dilly-dally. That was for young pups. He wasn’t going to be self-conscious, and he’d rather go now than wait for the nasty stranger to be all cum-coated and nasty.
“This the sissy who wanna get gangbanged?” Cooter said with a sneer. He licked his lips.
“Uh-huh, hang on, I’m gonna cum in a sec-“
“Nah,” Cooter said. He had a big hairy barrel chest, with curls of salt and pepper hair extended around the fabric of his sleeveless shirt. He was here laying asphalt this summer, and he had a burly body that was streaked with sweat and a few clumps of gray in his chest hair. There was even some cement that had gotten fixed to his broad shoulders. His sun-wizened face crackled with the layer of fine cement dust that clung to his skin and which flaked off when he moved. His callused fingers gripping Rob’s face to hold it in place.
Cooter dropped his jeans and slapped his dick on Rob’s face. Rob sucked on it too, leaving Bax’s precum-coated shaft to focus on Cooter, who had a nice thick dick, a big ugly knobbly prick that tasted like the sweat that made his chest hair cling to his body.
It was sour and salty and it got hard right away — Cooter didn’t drink or smoke meth, so he got hard easily. Bax was embarrassed by that, in his mind, it was very obvious that Cooter got hard more quickly than Bax did, and everyone who had even slightly glanced in the trailer must have noticed. He didn’t realize that no one was paying that much attention to him.
So he overcompensated by pushing Cooter aside. He meant to push on his thighs — because Cooter stood by the couch Bax still sat on — but he ended up touching his ass. “Get off, man, wait your turn-“
“I’m tryin’-a get off, and don’t touch my ass.”
“No, I mean, lay off him until I’m done, I ain’t cum yet-“
“You don’t know how this works, boy! Ain’t no ‘layin’-off’ until you done, that is the exact opposite of how this works,” Cooter said with a laugh. “Come on in, boys, the water’s just fine! He sucks a treat!” Cooter whooped. A few guys poked their heads in more openly, but no one actually came on in as Cooter had demanded. It was cramped in there, for one thing, and it was impossible to get in without touching Cooter’s hairy body and ass or the masturbating duo of Yoder and Jacob.
“Can you boys double-team my mouth?” Rob asked. He took both dicks in hand, pushed them onto his tongue and suckled moistly, letting Bax’s precum run down Cooter’s shaft. Rob loved mixing fluids from multiple alphas, and the part he liked best was that they acted like it was a betrayal. They both twitched and sneered their faces at each other, as they dicks smashed knobs together in Rob’s mouth.
“Hell yeah-“
“Oh… yeah…”
Actually neither of them were especially keen on jousting. But no one wanted to be the only one to back out either.
“Only pussies get scared of jousting,” Cooter said, eyeing Bax and rather hoping he would complain — Cooter was older and tougher (he thought) than most of the guys here, so he really wanted to demonstrate that today. “You ever done that before, Bax?”
Bax scoffed as though the answer should have been obvious. “Of course, man,” he lied. He gasped then as a pearly drop of precum slipped out of Cooter’s dick and onto his cock. Ah, shit, there’s another man’s cum on me, shit, shit, shit, they gonna think I can’t defend myself…
He was so entranced by that anxiety that he didn’t quite know what to make of the orgasm that hit him hard. His eyes opened wide. His dick was rubbing against Cooter’s older, thicker shaft as he gasped and writhed, pleasure rocketing up his spine. That pleasure came more from the friction of rubbing against Cooter’s shaft than from Rob’s mouth. Bax nervously bit his lip, subduing a howl as his ropy-muscled body twisted on the couch.
Cum sprayed down Rob’s throat, and he guzzled every salty, creamy drop. Another man had come into the trailer now, a scuzzy older man, not quite as old as Cooter, but with a more weathered face and a beard like a hobo. He was in there just in time to see Bax cum and watch all that semen run down Cooter’s shaft.
Cooter came too, soon after that, while the young men Yoder and Jacob needed only a few seconds on Rob’s mouth to add their loads to the mess clinging to Rob’s face. They were glad to get out of there early, before things got too gross.
Despite the sheen of white goob on Rob’s face, that out-of-town stranger with the wild beard came in next. The hobo-beard man— who wasn’t quite homeless — he told everyone he met he was “no homeless bastard” — ignored the stink of jizz in the room and didn’t even seem ot notice Cooter’s jizz spurting onto his leg as he came in. Cooter’s orgasm was loud and animated, sweaty, like a hyperactive coyote.
That bearded near-hobo didn’t realize that no one had rammed Rob in the ass yet (today). He was oblivious enough to not really notice or care that Rob was still sucking the cum off Cooter’s cock and that his ass wasn’t even bare yet.
“Lemme in that ass, bitch…” hissed the near-hobo who didn’t know anybody else here. His name was Ramblin’ Joe — t’was what the whole world always done did call him — and he knew damn well how to ram a goledarned sissy. They want it hot and hard and relentless. He had a jutting square jaw, a crooked nose and two cauliflowery ears, looking like a prize fighter despite his small size.
It was kind of nice, he thought, ripping Rob’s pants down and lifting him up, no need to be nice or gentle, all you had to do was ram. He aimed Rob’s face towards the door to the trailer, dragging him to the floor and jamming his dick in that tight ass even before it was fully hard. It went right on, sending a wave of pleasure up Rob’s spine.
It had been a long time since he had done wreck a booty, so that near-hobo, Ramblin’ Joe, whom no one knew was hard at just the thought of it. He was glad to see the other guys were cleaning up after themselves, since Rob’s ass wasn’t covered in cum already — not that that would have slowed him down.
The near-hobo gripped Rob tight, feeding his dick in, letting out a grunt when he was finally hard. Rob felt a tight pressure and a pinch. He reached behind himself to guide the near-hobo’s dick in, but the layers of dirty pants and overshirts were in the way — he had only lowered his pants, not actually taken them off or even all the way down.
But it seemed he didn’t need to do much anyway. Rob was on the floor and the near-hobo pounded away at his ass, hard and relentless. Rob reached for the cocks in front of him — he was angled towards the trailer door, where two guys stood there with their dicks out — Buck Sampson and Cody Lankford. Laughing with each other and ignoring Rob they took turns slapping Rob’s face with their cocks, letting him lick both shafts, though they hadn’t gotten hard yet.
“Ah, this sissy is naa-aasty!” Cody peered like an explorer at the sissy’s face, but he didn’t touch it. He watched with wide eyes as Ramblin’ Joe’s balls went thwack-thwack on the sissy’s chin, and Cody giggled like a girl when a drop of spit his cheek. He backed off. He was little, just a spit over five feet tall, powerfully built for his size but still scrawny, with a raggedy shock of mud-blond hair. He was bright-eyed, green as jade, with light skin and a youthful face, looking younger than his big-ass buddy Buck, though they were the same age.
“They’s all like that, man, I swear, they’s all into that kinky shit…” Buck Sampson shook his head. His mighty thirteen inch cock flip-flopped between his callused mitts. He was a roughneck like some of the others, home from the oil rig to spend his money on his woman, which in fact was where she was today, shopping like a mother hen, leaving him free to wreck this sissy in whichever hole was free when Buck got into the trailer. Buck was damn near seven foot tall, built like a stevedore, which was not a word with which Buck ever done made acquaintance with, and he had a deep huffy-puffy voice. “He prolly narsty, Cody…”
“Lemme in that bitch’s mouth, I’m gonna get a little neck, shite…”
Finally someone else was ready to get in his throat. Rob didn’t even look up in time to see his face — it was a biker who went by Greaser — so he could do little more than open wide and let his mouth fill. He had a little rattail of hair, skinny as a sumbitch, walking leaning back a little all the time, ready whenever the moment struck him with a comb and some grease to slick back his hair. That was how he got the name. He had a fat dick, which joined Buck’s and Cody’s and whoever else’s that Rob jerked off in turn.
As he swallowed Greaser’s erect cock, Rob tried to get up on all fours, but the near-hobo behind him was shooting his nut up Rob’s guts, so when Rob moved, he smacked him. “Stay still, bitch, lemme in there-“
“Yo, dawgie, lemme in there too,” said some black guy, a big shaved-head man with big ditch-digger’s arms. He pushed past the others, his erect cock rubbing against their asscheeks and thighs — which he did deliberately so everyone would see how big his cock was — as he pushed into the trailer. He grimaced a little at the sight of that cum-filled hole, but he didn’t wait. It wasn’t gangsta to wait to your turn.
The black guy — Deff Jasper — loved to gangbang sluts. He and his niggas Tyrell, Killer and all them, Slim Jay, Thumper, they all got a bitch to give up her booty and all on at lesat a monthly basis. Deff be gangbanging.
But Done never ramrodded a man like this. Thumper spent thirty-four years in prison, so you know he done wreck a honky booty now and then. Slim Jay was a straight up pimp, off the clock right now though, cuz there ain’t no point in bringing hos to Smashwood Trailer Park, cuz don’t nobody got money there. He do come by to stick it in a cummy asshole. Slim Jay always say a nigga has gotta stick his dick in something nasty now and then. That’s what means it to keep it real. Slim Jay ain’t wear his pimping suit today though. He got standards. Tyrell Brickley did likewise dress down, cuz he was a clean-cut kinda nigga with the ugly dick like a caveman. He got his meat in there using all them other niggas’s nuts as lube, and Tyrell busted a nut quick cuz a nigga like him got shit to do.
Oodles of cum gushed down Rob’s thighs, and his asshole gurgled up the cumwad still in there. Deff wondered how many men had already gotten in there as he plowed in, grimacing at the feel of cum spilling out and around him. That was Tyrell’s and Slim Jay’s and all them.
It spilled over his dark skin and into his pubic hair, making a big frothy mess. “Woo-hoo, shit yeah! Sloppy seconds, baby!” His eyes opened wide when his entire cock slipped into Rob’s ass without a moment’s hesitation — no girl had ever done that. His whole ten-inch shaft got sucked right in. He wondered if Rob was that slutty or if it was just part of sloppy seconds, if cum was really just a great lubricant.
The smell of cum grew overpowering in the trailer. Deff both laughed and wrinkled his nose. It ain’t never smell this bad when he gangbanged a female. But this white-ass punk smelled like a hundred hobos’s cumloads, and there might well have be that many on his face as far as Deff knew.
“Damn, boy, take that shit!” Deff smacked Rob’s ass and then instantly regretted it because he felt someone else’s cum on his fingers. It was hot and goopy, and it made his stomach churn.
There were more men in the trailer now, and someone’s erect cock rubbed against Deff’s ass. He tried to blow it off. It wasn’t a big deal — he had done the same thing, after all, just a few minutes ago. It was attention-grabbing though, the feel of another man’s cock right next to his asshole. What if someone attempted at him? Deff would have to throw down.
His anxiety didn’t stop him from filling Rob’s ass with creamy seed. He hooted and hit Rob in the side, just hard enough to make him squirm and clench around Deff’s cock. Deff sighed and pulled out.
“Make it leak out, bitch, I wanna see it gape and get frothy, shit!” Deff wanted to watch his cum spill out of Rob’s asshole, but before he could, another trailer trash — Ransom Wargrave — was already flopping his dick over Rob’s ass.
Wargrave was hard and ready to go. This was gonna be humiliating and disgusting but worth it if he got to fuck Jaleena Busty. Just picturing her and her enormous tits was enough to make Wargrave horny. He loved porn.
He was in his late twenties, wearing a football jersey because he had been a star player in high school, and he hadn’t yet grokked that he looked like a loser still wearing it all the time. He was skinny for a football player, like he was stuck in the thirties before they learned about protein powder and creatine. Wargrave slid his dick into Rob’s ass, surprised at how easy it was — he thought he’d have trouble staying hard with so many dicks everywhere (he’d accidentally touched ten or eleven on his way in here).
Cum poured out and added to the puddle on the trailer floor. Wargrave was ginger at first when he saw that, but somehow the disgust only made his erection throb harder, and he slammed his dick in. He chuckled at the sight of droplets of cum spraying out and around.
Rob focused on slurping on Wargrave’s dick. That was his usual plan in these sorts of gangbangs. He just wanted to get as much dick as he could, but his mouth was the part that needed the most active attention. The trailer trash could just keep plowing his ass, he needed only to let them go to town on him.
But servicing cock actually required his attention, at least the way he usually did it. The more this whole experience continued, however, the more Rob could just lay there — on his back eventually because that was easier — while he was plowed into on both his ass and his mouth. He got them all: muscular studs like Julian Bondarinko and his buddies Hyler and Specs, black guys — like this local musclebound rapper Killer and his multiracial posse Lamar, Mikey, Mane, Hansen and J-Moc — this tubby fatso named Piggie whose belly stank like cheap cheese, a stringy-haired beggar named Tommy Weathers, a trucker named Manky who was just passing through, crackheads with names like Belmont and Spider and Nugget, all of them came to make Rob as nasty as could be. As predicted, at least one married man from the other side of the park, Jerry Maple, did come over and get a nut off real quick, before his wife noticed he was gone.
“Gonna make ya dirty-“
“Ah, boys, that is some nasty shit, lookit his ass, it’s all… gross…”
He lay on his back with his head dangling over the edge of the top-step leading out of the trailer. That angle made it easier for scumbag after scumbag to throat him down, until his mouth was coated with gobs of precum, semen and puddles of his own spit.
His throat was sore, but this was the part that Rob loved most. He could keep his mouth open as though his jaw was slack, and they just kept plowing in. Every time one person finished spewing jizz down his gullet, another one took his place. Once he got into the swing of things, Rob could — and gladly would — deepthroat any cock, no matter how big. In fact a couple of them had noticeably tiny dicks, like that Mikey Thimble, but even that contributed to the nasty mess all over Rob’s face, and he appreciated the lack of self-consciousness these men had about that.
How many loads was this? Rob had lost count. He was pretty sure he had at least thirty on his face now. He tasted cum everywhere. He couldn’t even tell which loads were on his face and which had been shot right down his throat.
“Make him cummy! Make him cummy!”
“His face is so nasty, got like a million babies on his face-“
“Ew, don’t say it like that, man-“
“It’s more than a million anyway. That is so gross. It looks like snot and shit!”
The last guy on his face was a young man who had very nearly refused to participate in this. He was Chris Hazel, and he was only nineteen, barely out of high school. He didn’t want to do anything gross, so he had opted out. He didn’t want to gangbang a female porn star either. He had cute-boy dimples but white-trash hair, and his furry chest was meaty and well-fed like he didn’t come from here. He did come from Smashwood, he just looked well-fed for a trailer park.
But when the others started teasing him about it, asking if he was unable to get hard, he felt compelled to do it. He stuck his hard dick in Rob’s mouth and closed his eyes, trying not to feel the clumps of cum that stuck to his thighs and his pubic hair.
Rob’s face had been virtually bukkaked — most of the men had shot in his throat, so it wasn’t real bukkake, it was more spit and precum and spat-up cum — and Chris was shocked to feel that sticky seed all over his balls and his shaft.
The guys in Rob’s ass were the raunchier ones — it took a special kind of guy to gangbang a male stranger. It was the ragged, long-haired Logan Barnaby who was last to go in there.
“‘Course Logan’s doin’ it…”
“He’ll stick it in anything!”
He had climbed in the window to get in that ass. Logan would gladly fuck any woman in the ass — he was known for that in the park, he had no shame about plowing morbidly obese women, elderly women, toothless drug whores, any woman who would willingly give up the ass, he fucked them.
He done stuck more than a few men in the ass too, but he was at least discrete about that. Usually. He was in a hard rock band, and he had a hard-living kind of face, he looked like the kind of man who lived in his car, which he in fact did — it was parked at the end of a dirt road at the far end of Smashwood. His work-hard jowls and broad shoulders were sore, his hairy greasy and unkempt, his cock uncut and fat as the beer bottles he was constantly drinking from.
Going last was not bad at all, he thought. It was like swimming in spooge. He wasn’t even sure he could feel the walls of Rob’s guts. It was all cum, like dipping his dick in a sauce made of raunch. His long stringy hair rocked back and forth and covered his face as he watched that young pup Chris spray one last load all over Rob’s face.
“Ah, damn, bitch…” he said with a sigh as his own orgasm rocked his body. It was intense, prideful — he felt like he had conquered a weaker man.
He added his own cum to the soupy mess that was Rob’s ass. Rob was still on his back, legs in the air, so as he finally experienced the last throes of his potent prostate orgasm, Rob’s toes gripped Logan’s hairy shoulder-muscles.
Logan didn’t mind. He stayed right there, dipping his dick in that cummy soup as it limpened in Rob’s ass. He cocked his head to the side, marveling at the intense pleasure his cock could bring someone like Rob. Rob squirmed and squealed, making the jizz that coated his face and body stream down onto the floor of Bax’s trailer.
“Well, fuck, bitch, you are nasty!” Logan said, in a tone that suggested he did not see that as an insult.
“I know,” Rob said, giggling. “But thanks for pointing it out.” He sighed and began licking up all the cum he could get to from his face, chest and ass. It tasted like spit and armpit sweat and other flavors he couldn’t quite identify. He was so focused on that he ignored the men laughing at him — and at Bax, whose trailer was positively soaked in cum.
“Ah… it’s nasty in here,” Bax said. He hadn’t predicted this would all happen in his trailer. He had put a sheet down on the couch, but of course, that hadn’t been enough. He’d assumed the action would move out into the trailer park proper.
“Yeah, it’s pretty nasty,” Rob said, rubbing his sore ass. He giggled and blushed. “Just the way I like it.” He put his clothes back out, and groped all the men he could reach as he headed for the trailer park’s entrance. “I’ll send Jaleena over tomorrow. I’ll be your fluffer too.”
Once they were away from Bax’s trailer, most of them got excited about tomorrow’s gangbang, and they began to brag about who would fuck her best, first and in the most interesting ways. Rob couldn’t wait for that too. He knew he wouldn’t get as much cum tomorrow, but it would be fun in its own way.
Plus he already had a lead on a construction crew who was willing to cornhole the everlasting fuck out of him next week.

The Alpha in a Wifebeater

When a roughneck comes by Avery’s place to ask for money, Avery just might be in for more than he bargained for… a lot more! That’s because this blue-collar stud has got more meat than he knows what to do with.

Luckily Avery knows exactly how to handle this much meat!

Read it now as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Avery was glad to have the house to himself on Thanksgiving. He was living with his sister, her husband and her two daughters, but they were all away at Avery’s brother-in-law’s parents’s house. Avery was invited but begged it off. He rarely got the whole house to himself, and he didn’t want to waste the opportunity. Besides that, he didn’t like his brother-in-law’s family, and he didn’t get the impression they liked him much either. So he was alone for the holiday weekend. He couldn’t really complain though, he had a whole apartment above the garage, so he didn’t have to see his nieces at all if he didn’t want to (and there were times he definitely did not want to see the screaming terrors).
But he did love holidays, so he was disappointed that he didn’t have anyone to celebrate it with. Tomorrow, he and a few friends would be having a Friendsgiving after a day of shopping, but that wasn’t really the same thing.
There was a knock on the garage door. Avery was in the main house right now, since he could have it to himself, but he heard someone banging hesitantly on the garage door.
A deep raspy voice called out, “Hello?!”
Avery peered through the window. There was a man standing there. He was underdressed for the weather, in just a wifebeater and camo pants. There was a light dusting of snow on the ground, and it was very cold for northern California. He shivered. It looked like he hadn’t really given much thought to what he wore in the snow. His massive biceps shook as he trembled in the cold.
He had a shaved head, though a stubble had grown recently, and he had a scruffy beard too. He had a husky build, with muscles bulging out of his wifebeater. He was very tall, carrying himself like a blue-collar worker, Avery thought, maybe a carpenter or plumber. Maybe military. He had a bald eagle tattooed on his heart, just barely visible peeking over the rim of his ragged wifebeater. He looked uncomfortable with his own heft, and Avery was sure he would blush if anyone ever told him how handsome he was. That made Avery want to tell him so.
Avery opened the front door of the house. “Hey,” he said, calling out to the garage where the man knocked.
“Oh, hi, you must be Avery.” He came to the front door and shivered. He looked like he expected to be let in. “I’m Spackle. Albert Spackle, but e’ryone calls me Spackle. I’m Gregory Spackle’s grandson.” He gestured to one of the houses across the way. That made Avery snicker to himself — Mr. Spackle was an elderly redneck who was hilarious in his own little way — his own racist, catankerous and bitter way — Avery could only imagine what Mr. Spackle had told his grandson about him. Spackle smiled nervously. “Can I come in?”
“Uh… Do you… have a reason?” Avery asked. “Sorry, I mean, I don’t know you or anything-“
“No, yeah, I, uh, I guess… I should have expected that. It’s just really cold,” he said. He bit his lip.
“Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?”
“Uh… My granddad said you’d be, uh… that you’d get me inside quicker than a… …” He blushed and didn’t finish the analogy. “Well, I guess he ain’t mean it literally, I should’ve… I, uh…” He shivered again and laughed. “It’s never this cold at Thanksgiving, man, I ain’t even bring no long-sleeves back with me. Uh…”
“Yeah, weird weather this year.”
“Look… My granddad… My granddad — I mean, no offense man, you got like, a lisp and a limp wrist and, uh-” Spackle gestured towards Avery.
“Uh-huh,” Avery said. He smiled and threw his hands up. He suspected where Spackle was going with this, but he wanted to make him struggle to get there. Snow continued falling on Spackle’s broad shoulders, dappling his skin with little white flakes that melted instantly.
“Yeah.” Spackle blushed. His deep voice resonated, filling the doorway and echoing around in Avery’s ears. He had that big-guy voice, all dull and flat, draping over Avery like a baritone blanket. “So my granddad said… Look, I’m gonna be honest wit’ you, I got some money problems right now. Okay? It ain’t like… It ain’t, you know, drugs or nothin’ like that. But, uh… my granddad says you… You like, sometimes pay dudes to like… jack them off, or whatever.” His cheeks turned bright red, and he gestured increasingly wildly. “No offense, man,That’s, uh, but I am, like… I am okay, with the whole… thing.”
Avery chuckled. “So your granddad said I’d fall head over heels in love with you and pay you, so you should come over here to make some money? And I’d just open the door for you right away?”
“Well… He ain’t exactly phrase it like a suggestion. He kinda meant it, like… you know, a bad thing, like somethin’… Like he said basically if I was a deadbeat, you know… He said he’s not giving me money and I should just come over here if I’m… You know, if I need money, I should come here and ask you instead of him. He ain’t gonna give me… Well, he’s old-fashioned.”
“Yeah, I noticed.” Avery sighed and opened the door. “Your granddad is totally right, by the way. I’ll give you two hundred dollars to cornhole me.”
“Oh hell yeah, okay, finally,” Spackle said. He came in and immediately undid his belt, dropping his pants to his ankles. Only then did he begin to unlace his heavy workboots. Spackle looked a lot more confident now that he was inside.
“Finally?”
“I work at an oil rig in the Gulf of Mexico, right? And we get leave off in this crapdunk little town called Masquerez, ain’t jack-shit there to do. All the chicks is Mexican and fat. Not a single one is fuckable. I mean, I still fuck ‘em, but I ain’t proud,” he said with a chuckle. His deep voice boomed; he spoke loudly, like he was used to being on an oil rig where engines constantly whirred. As he removed his boots with his pants around his ankles, his arms bulged and his pecs rippled beneath his wifebeather, which was ripped and stained with layers of grease and industrial lubricant. “And uh… me and my buddies Eddie and Dog and Raffy — he’s from Jamaica — and we all heard this rumor ‘bout this dude who pays money for it, y’know, for swallowin’ dick. And we spent all fucking night chasing this dude, never found him, man. We found one Mexican who ain’t speak no English and he got even less money than me, so we ain’t cornhole him.” He leaned back and wiggled his toes. He propped his feet up on the coffee table. He grabbed the remote control. “You got porn on here?”
“Prolly not. This is my sister’s place. I doubt her husband dares to keep porn in here,” Avery said. “And I bet he’s into something gross like diapers.”
“Ew, nasty,” Spackle said with a chuckle. He burped, settling back on the couch — looking ridiculous in his holey socks and wifebeater, which he seemed to have forgotten he was still wearing. His pants lay crumpled up on the floor beside the couch. “Sorry if that weren’t romantic.” He flicked through the channels and eventually found some hip hop music video channel that was nearly softcore porn. “So, uh… I dunno how you do it. I mean, I know… like the gist of it. But I dunno what to do.”
“Don’t worry, you’ll figure it out,” Avery said. He sunk between his knees in front of Spackle.
“Oh, I should shower first, man, you don’t wanna jerk me off yet,” Spackle said. He chuckled. He sniffed his armpit and wrinkled his nose. “I smell rank, sorry, man.” He was about to take off his wifebeater finally, but Avery stopped him.
“What? No. You are way off,” Avery said. “I love dirty guys.”
“Ew, why?”
“The smell,” Avery said with a smile. He dove his face into Spackle’s armpit, the same one he had sniffed and found wanting. It was disgusting, he was right about that. It was slick with sweat — Spackle’s grandparents kept their house at a sweltering temperature, which was why he had been wearing just that wifebeater and shorts until he put on pants to come over here. So Spackle had been sweating since he got to the house late last night.
His armpit was so wet it was like he had just taken a shower, though the smell proved he hadn’t. Avery also tasted snow that lingered on his muscles.
Avery kissed up Spackle’s arm from his pit, inhaling the filth of his wifebeater as he went. He had tattoos on his arm, a silhouette of a naked woman, an iron cross, a network of barbed wire, and Avery licked an outline of each one. Spackle watched him with a wry smile like he might watch a child explore something mundane. His muscles were stiff, too nervous at being licked like a cat to relax.
Then Avery kissed his shoulder and the lower side of his neck, where a climbing ivy tattoo extended up to his ear. Avery’s hands snaked under his wifebeater and teased his nipples. As soon as Avery’s tongue and lips touched Spackle’s scruffy neck, Spackle’s whole body tensed even more. Avery knew he had made a mistake.
“Ugh…” Spackle sucked in his breath like he was thinking of hitting Avery for kissing him on the neck — that was almost like a real kiss, perilously close to his lips. That was too much for Spackle. He sucked in his breath and grunted.
Avery’s heart skipped a beat. Spackle was huge and bulky and possibly violent. He was a roughneck. Avery wasn’t sure how’d respond. He should not have tried to kiss his neck.
But Spackle just placed one heavy hand on Avery’s head. He gently but firmly pushed him down.
He chuckled nervously and pointed to a spot about a third of the way up his neck — he was very muscular, so he didn’t really have much of a neck. He pointed to just above his shoulders. “You can kiss me up to here, man. No higher than that. We ain’t makin’ out. No hickeys neither. I can’t explain that to my mama.”
“Okay,” Avery said. Spackle breathed a sigh of relief like he thought his rule might have been a dealbreaker for Avery.
Avery didn’t mind. He liked pushing alphas to their limits. He took off his own clothes as he sucked on Spackle’s wifebeater-clad chest and shoulders, below the limit. Spackle was hairy and dusty, and he was tense wherever Avery kissed. Spackle’s skin puckered underneath Avery’s lips.
“Ah… Damn,” Spackle said. He blushed a bright red. “Man, this shit is crazy. I ain’t know it was gonna be like this.” He shifted his weight on the couch. “I mean… they said that dude in Texas, man, he was… It was like a gloryhole thing. Supposedly. You ain’t gotta look at him or nothing. He ain’t lickin’ ya nipples. Shit’s crazy.”
“You like blowjobs from women, don’t you?”
“Hell yeah.”
“You want me to just go straight to swallowing your cock?”
He snorted and chuckled. He whipped his cock out the fly of his tattered brown boxers. He thwacked its limp shaft around, battering Avery’s shoulder with it. He licked his teeth.
“Hell yeah, man, fuck,” Spackle said. He bit his lip, smiling as he thwacked his dick on Avery’s face. “You deepthroat? Ain’t no girls deepthroat no more.”
Avery giggled. He stuck his finger down his throat to demonstrate. He got it way down there before gagging. Spackle lowered his eyes and breathed deeply. His cock twitched.
“Ah yeah, man, like that,” Spackle said, his voice rumbling like he had to force himself not to attack Avery’s throat right now. His muscles flexed under his wifebeater.
“I’ll let you facefuck me,” Avery said. “If you let me get you hard with a little jousting.” Avery giggled.
Spackle laughed a deep barrel laugh. He covered his face with his hands. “Okay, but I’m puttin’ a time limit. One minute, man. If I don’t get hard in one minute, you put it in your mouth. Ain’t no way I’m gonna get hard touchin’ a dick. No offense.”
“None taken.” Avery knew that Spackle was probably right. Avery didn’t care. The point wasn’t to actually get him hard. Avery would just enjoy trying.
Avery kneeled in front of Spackle, who was still sprawled out on the cushions. Avery thwacked his own hefty cock against Spackle’s, and when he did, Spackle’s whole body jerked. Spackle’s eyes were closed, one hand covering his face. He groaned and giggled like a boy. He covered his eyes with both arm.
“Ah, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit,” he said. His voice was muffled by his arms. “That’s nasty…”
“You ever touch cocks with another man?” Avery smushed his erection against Spackle’s limpness, while Avery’s hands slipped under his wifebeater to grope his chest.
“Nah… I mean… Maybe kinda.” He laughed again, his anxiety evident in the wavery tone of his voice. His face was covered by his forearms, but even through the gaps in the flesh, Avery could see his dingy face turning red like a cranberry. He giggled so uncontrollably he squealed like a mouse, a very deep-voiced, raspy-throated mouse.
“You okay, Spackle?” Avery asked as he stroked both cocks together. Avery’s was smooth and clean, while Spackle’s was tan, veiny, knobbly, and even had a small faded scar along the top of it, near the root.
“Yeah.” Spackle had to take a deep breath to regain control of himself. He peered through his fingers, but when he saw his cock touching Avery’s, he squirmed and re-covered his eyes. He cleared his throat and tried to regain his composure. “Nah, it wasn’t nevuh like this.” He paused and bit his lip. “Alright, yeah. One time. Raffy — that’s that Jamaican dude — he was… he had this game. He said it was Jamaican but some other dude googled it and said he saw nothin’ ‘bout it in Jamaica or anywhere else.” He paused and laughed. “I only did it one time. But, uh… He like come up at ya wit’ his big floppy dick, and you… you know, you hit each other’s dicks and shit. Like joustin’ for real, you know? And uh… if you back out cuz his dick hurt ya — and Raffy knows how to do that too, he got a massive rod and he uses it like a fucking club, man, he really gets ya with it. He hits ya in the balls with it. Anyway if it hurts and ya gotta back out, you lose, and if you get hard, you gotta suck his dick.” Avery chuckled. “It’s how Raffy always wanna settle things.”
“You did that?”
Spackle talked more fluidly now, still watching his dick limply rub against Avery’s, but his anxiety over it seemed to have dwindled. “Just one time. That motherfucker was trying to take my towel, man. We was in the shower. He said he just forgot his, he wanna share. I was like, I do a lot of things for my friends, but I ain’t gonna let you wipe ya ass off with my towel and then I’m gonna use it. I’m gonna wipe my face off wit’ ya ass all over my towel? No way, no I ain’t.”
“You won?”
He shrugged. “Kinda. We was still goin’ when my boss came in the shower. He don’t tolerate that shit, so he made us stop.” He paused. “Okay, man, start suckin’.” He breathed a sigh of relief when Avery pulled away from his cock. “On the rig, we got a lotta Africans and shit, Arabs, that kind of thing. They ain’t nice about that kinda shit,” he said. “And Indonesians. We got Indonesians.” He shifted his weight on his asscheeks.
Once the minute was up, Avery stopped jousting — he waited for Spackle to tell him, so it was actually more like three minutes. Spackle’s dick roped around in Avery’s grip and rubbed against Avery’s cock, but when he was done, Avery kissed a trail down Spackle’s chest. He reached his crotch, kissed his cock on the top and then very briefly, chastely, kissed Spackle on the lips. No tongue. Spackle groaned anyway, and before he could complain, Avery swallowed his cock as deep as he could go in one motion.
His cock remained limp at first, as an awkward silence filled the room. Avery wondered if Spackle would even be able to get hard — not all guys could do it, no matter how much money they were offered.
But then finally, Spackle’s dick perked up. It twitched in Avery’s mouth, then got firmer and firmer. Spackle watched like he had never seen this happen before. His eyes were open wide.
“Ah, yeah, yeah, like that,” Spackle said. He moaned like Avery was scratching an itch he hadn’t been able to reach for a long time. He leaned back on the couch. He grabbed his pants and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. “Can I smoke in here?”
“No, sorry. It’s my sister’s house. She would literally shit a brick,” Avery said, wiping precum and spit off his chin.
He smiled. “I’d like to see that.” But he did put the cigarettes away, back in the pocket of his workpants on the floor. He shrugged. “I’m trying to quit anyway.”
Avery rammed his head all the way down on Spackle’s cock. He gagged, but he kept his mouth in position, even as his throat clenched and fought against Spackle’s shaft. He choked up spit, while Spackle groaned and grunted.
He was a very loud humper. Spackle kept on making sounds, whirring and hooting at himself, chuckling at jokes only he heard, shifting his weight on the couch. Avery couldn’t tell if he always did it like this or if he just did it because he was nervous. His wifebeater shook as his muscles al l flexed and stayed tense.
“You ready to cornhole me?”
Spackle blushed again. “Yeah, course,” he said. He said it like a macho man, but it was obvious that he was nervous. When Avery bent over his lap with his ass in the air, Spackle sighed with relief. “Damn, thank god, I was worried you’d be hairy. You shave your ass, right? I’m glad girls don’t get hair in their asses.”
“Girls absolutely get hairy asses,” Avery said as he backed his ass towards Spackle’s lap. “They shave.”
“What? No way.”
“Yes way, I swear. Or a lot of them do, anyway. Not all.”
Spackle wrinkled his nose and watched Avery’s ass collide with his erection. “Well… I don’t much like that, they shouldn’t get hair in their asses, man, that’s gross.”
Avery giggled. His ass rubbed against Spackle’s shaft. “I will be sure to inform the Committee to Regulate Female Asses,” he said. Then he shuddered in both pain and pleasure when Spackle’s dick pushed into his asshole.
Spackle gasped. “Aw, fuck, aw, fuck, man, aw, fuck, I don’t even… Aw, fuck…”
“You like that?” Avery asked.
“Fuck yeah,” Spackle groaned, and his whole body rattled. He absent-mindedly lifted his wifebeater as though going to take it off, but then he dropped it and left it on. He held his breath, watching Avery squirm backwards deeper and deeper onto his cock. “Yo, man, yo… I gotta… Yo, man, you, uh… what kinda positions you like?”
Avery found it difficult to concentrate while his ass loosened and adjusted to Spackle’s cock. So he just said, “Any, really. What do you want to try?”
“No big deal, just… no girls ever wanna do this,” he said. “They say it hurts too bad. Man, girls complain a lot. Why don’t you complain?”
“Cuz I like getting it up the ass from dirty guys with big monster dicks,” Avery snapped. “Girls don’t.”
He sniffled. “Fuckin’ bitches…” he said. There was a faint note of pride there, he enjoyed hearing talk about his “monster dick”. He wrapped his arms around Avery’s chest. He rotated so that he laid out on the couch — he was a little too tall, so his feet had to be angled off the edge. Avery struggled to remain atop his cock, but all the extra motion made him horny enough to burst.
Spackle hugged Avery to keep him close, and Avery’s back rubbed against his filthy wifebeater Avery held his breath, trying to endure the awe-striking pressure in his ass. Spackle’s entire cock was in him, throbbing, and since he was mounted on Spackle’s sweat-slippened body, Avery could do little more than slide around on his muscles.
But Spackle wrapped his arms over Avery’s chest, and he even hooked his legs around Avery’s ankles. That pinned Avery on his back on Spackle’s chest and cock. The smell of his unwashed roughneck body was overpowering, like Avery was bathing in his funk.
“This alright, man?” Spackle asked.
“Hell yeah.” Avery’s voice was weak and thready. “Girls are never going to like this position, Spackle. It hurts. I like it because… well, for my own reasons. Don’t bother asking girls to do this.”
He sighed. “I know.” He took a deep breath and started ramming his dick upwards into Avery’s ass. He was quick like it was a race, like he was trying to shatter Avery’s insides. Avery yelped and screamed, in pain at first but then with pleasure flowing through his veins.
Spackle’s cell phone rang. He cursed and answered it, only slowing down a little bit. “It’s my sister,” he said like he didn’t want to talk to her.
He answered it anyway though. “Hey. I’m around. Near the house. None of your business. No. No. No! No! No! You better not!” His cock trembled in Avery’s ass. Spackle breathed heavily but tried to conceal it. He wiped sweat off his brow and smeared it on his wifebeater. “I am not! I don’t even know none the neighbors here. Grandpa is an asshole, I don’t think he was right about that. I’m… at the store! I wanted to pick up a…”
“Bottle of wine.” Avery whispered, struggling to speak with the intense pressure in his ass.
“A bottle of wine! I wanted to get wine for dinner tonight! Yes, I know what wine is! We’re not that barbaric on the oil rig, you know! Oh, you think you know everything? I ain’t a rentboy, shut up!” He hung up the phone. His cock twitched angrily in Avery’s ass. “Fucking bitch. She knows where I am, by the way. If she ever asks, I didn’t come over here. I’ll tell her I dropped the wine and broke it on the way back.”
“I have wine,” Avery said. “You can take a bottle.” His voice was tense, breathless, clipped. He sounded like he was near tears, though he was merely near orgasm instead. “You can leave out the back. You can come out down the street, it’ll look like you’re coming back from the store.”
“Shit, alright, thanks,” he said. He took a deep breath. “I wanna do somethin’ nice for you, but I can’t think of nothin’. Don’t ask for a reacharound, I don’t do that.”
“Take a video of that Jamaican guy. Record yourself thwacking dicks with him. I wanna watch,” he said, ramming without even paying attention to it, like he was just moving on auto-pilot. Avery sighed as his prostate sent wave after wave of pleasure through his body.
Spackle gagged and winced. “Ah…” He smiled. “Oh, okay, yeah, I’ll just tell him it’s for a girl, alright? I’ll say I know a girl who wanna see it.”
“Yeah, that’s fine.” Avery yelped like a puppy. He at last reached orgasm as Spackle finally began fucking again, triggering Avery’s whole body to tense and send pleasure pounding up his spine. Spackle didn’t notice right away because he was focused on his own cock, which spasmed as his balls drew up in his sac.
Then Spackle moaned in disgust when he saw Avery spray cum over his belly and chest. It covered Spackle’s muscles and matted his wifebeater to his skin. Spackle closed his eyes and muttered a complaint about the cummy smell. “Nasty…”
But it didn’t slow him down any. He groaned right into Avery’s ear. He jackrabbited his cock into Avery’s ass again, so hard and so violently that Avery screamed in both pain and pleasure. His fucking accentuated the orgasmic aftershocks that wracked Avery’s body.
“I’m gonna nut, man, gonna nut, gonna fill you up, aw shit, man aw shit, aw shit!” His voice gradually rose to a plaintive yell.
Hot cum spurted into Avery’s ass. It was a thick, creamy load, even denser and stickier than most. It coated Avery’s ass in warmth, and it kept on going. Avery took a deep breath and savored the feel of looping jets of cum covering his prostate and dripping throughout his body.
Spackle sighed grandly. When Avery moved, Spackle gasped and held Avery’s hips in place. His cock twitched, which made Avery hold back a howl of pain. The movement kept his post-orgasm going, however, and Avery shuddered uncontrollably.
At last Spackle was done. Thick gobs of cum dripped down his shaft and into his pubic hair. He shuddered too, and then he fell limp.
Even when Avery lifted off him, Spackle just sprawled out on the couch. He groaned. He burped again. Avery stretched his legs and grabbed some napkins. He cleaned off Spackle’s cock, which rapidly limpened in Avery’s fingers. Spackle took off his wifebeater, which had Avery’s cum on it.
“Damn,” Spackle said. He sighed. “Do I gotta go back to my family? Can I stay here all day?”
“Fine with me.”
He frowned. “I know. But I can’t. My mama would kill me,” he said. “You’ll still be here tonight?”
“Yes,” Avery said. He went into the kitchen to grab a bottle of wine. He handed it to Spackle.
“Good,” he said. He smiled. “Will you pay me again tonight?”
Avery giggled. “Not five hundred dollars.” He wrote out the check to Thomas Spackle and handed it over. In the memo field, he had written meat, but Spackle didn’t even look at it yet.
“Oh.”
“Don’t worry though. We can have fun, and I bet you can make some money one way or another. Maybe not five hundred bucks…” Avery said. Spackle nodded and agreed. He put his pants back on, then offered Avery the cum- and filth-encrusted wifebeater, which was soaked in his sweat. He left through the back door. Avery watched him sneak down the street, then shiveringly walk bare-chested back to his grandfather’s house, carrying the bottle of wine.
Avery took a deep sniff of the musk staining his wifebeater, and he smiled with satisfaction. He hoped Spackle would come back one day soon.

The Gangs

Rob Winthrop invites a hundred big black thugs with big black meat to give him a big black experience! This is a once-in-a-lifetime no-holes-barred event he’ll never forget!

Read it now as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Rob Winthrop started getting nervous as he always did, when the guys filed in one by one to what Rob had called a “physique appreciation event”. A raucous pit of butterflies fluttered in his belly as the convention center filled up with men. There were a hundred of them, all swaggering thugs who concealed their own anxiety as well — Rob could sense it in the way they avoided eye contact with anyone and shuffled forward in line. They each carried with them the appropriate paperwork.
101 happened to be the fire marshall’s stated capacity for the convention hall, so it was packed tight with no room to spare, especially since part of the room was set off with a large table for them place their clothes on. When Rob instructed them to remove their clothing and get ready, they grumbled.
“Yo, when we gettin’ paid?”
“You best not stiff us, whiteman!”
Rob held up his hands for silence, his heart thumping. He had specifically sought actual thugs, not just thug-acting men — everyone here had a criminal record. There were robbers, muggers, home-invaders, drug dealers, pimps and even two convicted murderers. “No worries, no worries, I will pay all of you. I’ve got the first hundred dollars right here, you can take it when you get started. You understand the rules, right?”
“Yessuh!”
“We do it, fo’ real, man, don’t worry ‘bout that. I ‘xpect to get paid, mothafuckah.” They all laughed and slapped hands with each other.
“I’mma do this propuh, nigga!”
“Wreck that whitey!”
Rob grinned. They were enthusiastic again, and they started to take off their clothes. He re-explained the rules just in case they had forgotten. They were each required to ram him, ideally in both the mouth and ass, though a few had refused that and Rob allowed it anyway. Most of them agreed to do whatever else he wanted short of him penetrating them. They got a hundred dollars no matter what. But if the whole group — which included members of several rival gangs — succeeded in remaining peaceful the entire time, they’d each be paid a thousand dollars instead.
This would not be the first time Rob had paid more than a hundred grand for one physique appreciation event. He had plenty of money from the family business and his trust fund. He couldn’t imagine anything he’d rather spend his fortune on than this. His smooth twink body gleamed in the harsh light of the hotel convention hall, and he kept his hips angled to give a feminine curve to his body.
“Yo, whiteman, we gonna destroy dat ass! You know dat, right?”
“You ain’t gonna walk fo’ a week, man!”
Rob smiled. “That’s the plan, gentlemen.” He chuckled, and they all laughed, their deep and gravelly voices ringing out in the convention hall. The smell of bare balls and even a few drops of precum filled the air — someone must have been real horny, Rob thought, or just loved gangbangs so much he was already hard. A scent of malt liquor was noticeable too, suggesting a few of them had gotten drunk before coming in.
The person who got fully naked first was named Nathaniel Simpel, but he went by the name ‘Truck’. He was eager to get naked because he felt confident that he would have the biggest dick here and, he thought to himself, being the biggest-dicked-nigga at a hundred-man gangbang was really something to be proud of.
So he made sure to get undressed first. Then Truck turned around, standing next to Rob and waving his fat cock between his fingers — that way all the other thugs could see his gigantic meat, which swung between his legs and reached almost all the way to his knees. The chains around his neck jangled like Mr. T. He stayed like that, dick out where every nigga here gotta see it, as he thwacked it back and forth between his thighs.
“Yo, fo’ a thousand dollars,” Truck said, “I can guarantee we gonna stay peaceful long enough to bust a nut.” He laughed, a deep, booming barrel laugh that forced his shoulders back and his hips forward, flapping his fourteen-inch hog towards the other thugs.
Rob handed over the initial payment of a hundred dollars before he grabbed Truck’s fat cock. He gave it a long stroke, and Truck sighed in a highly exaggerated way, prompting laughs from the other men.
“Damn, nigga…”
“He into that, Truck is like that…”
Truck bristled and sucked on his teeth. They all looked at his cock, and a lot of them were hesitant to get naked now. Truck didn’t know that Rob had ensured all one hundred men were of appropriate quality — many of them were used to being the biggest man in any room, so seeing Truck’s legendary meat made them nervous, but everyone there had at least a foot of cock. That was another of Rob’s rules.
“Smells like ballsweat in here.”
“He playin’ wit’ that nigga dick.”
“Can you back up, nigga? Yo’ dick is touchin’ my leg…” There was some grumbling from the men now that they were naked. They were crammed in so close together that they were all over each other, limp cocks and hard muscles rubbing against each other as they pushed in closer to watch the action.
“You scared of my big meat touchin’ ya, huh? Don’t worry, he don’t bite. He treat you right if you just bend over, nigguh…”
“I swear to god, nigga, if you touch my dick one more time, I will lay you out!”
“Hey! No fightin’! All you niggas shut the fuck up. We all crammed into a li’l place, we all gonna be touching each other’s dicks. We all know that was gonna happen. Just chill out. None of us here is gonna ramrod no nigga. We ain’t in prison…” There was some tittering laughter, but aside from some grumbling here and there, the arguments more or less stopped.
Opening his mouth to tease the tip, Rob started slurping on the knob of Truck’s dick. It was veiny and so thick it felt like a muscle of its own beneath Rob’s fingers. He licked it and blushed as the watchings thugs whooped and laughed.
“He doin’ it! He handles dick like a slut too…”
“Shiiiiiiit!”
“That honky do it right!”
Rob reached out for another dick, grabbing a long, uncircumcised one. That was Rupert, the only Jamaican out of the one hundred — Rob loved Jamaican mandingos, but it was rare to find one who would ram him.
“Aw, mon…”
Rupert was as reluctant as any Jamaican, but he was desperate for money. He had grown up among American black men, who frequently boasted they didn’t mind being serviced by men, especially for money. So he was possibly the most nervous person here — none of these men would lose their reputations if word got out what they were doing, but Rupert would. He needed to repay some loans, though, so he had little choice. He sneered and looked away — Rob wasn’t even jerking him off yet. He simply thwacked Rupert’s dick against his face and made him joust with Truck. He suckled on both tips, licking both piss-slits.
When Rupert felt precum slide down his cockshaft, he gagged again. His dick was getting hard, which shocked him. He had wondered if he’d be able to perform, but now he had gotten an erection without even sticking his dick in any hole — this boner came from the friction of his dickshaft rubbing against Truck’s cock.
“Yoh buddy come like a… wet sponge, mon,” Rupert said, making some of the other men laugh. It did feel like a very wet sponge, he thought, with just a little give and plenty of moisture collecting on the surface.
Rob sensed that both Rupert and Truck were nervous about jousting. They both jumped when their cocks first collided, but both bristled with machismo. Neither wanted to admit they were self-conscious about it. Rupert especially didn’t want to draw attention to the fact that Truck’s cock was bigger than his or that Truck himself was thicker-bodied and visibly more muscular than Rupert’s lean frame. He closed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest — it was easier when he didn’t have to see Rob suck on him like a sissy boy.
As Rob moved on from playing with both of those dicks to actually sucking on each one in turn, he felt thick, callused fingers lifting his ass into the air. A few of the thugs had said they didn’t want to ram Rob in the ass — Rob normally didn’t allow that; he could find enough men willing to hit him at both ends that he didn’t need to compromise — but in the end Rob had made some exceptions.
Luckily for him, one thug in particular was Samson Miles, who loved ass no matter who he had to ram. He was a middle-aged and massive, broad-shouldered thug with dark brown skin, a thick mustache and a deep, booming voice. He was grizzled like a shaved bear, with a deep and penetrating stare. Rob had found him as he walked out of prison a few days ago.
“Gonna plow you like a fuckin’ ox,” Samson said, laughing at himself. He was one of the few men besides Rob who got that “plow” and “ox” was wordplay, as he spent his incarceration reading, instead of chasing honeybuns and twink butt. His dick — just as long as Truck but not quite as thick — was already hard, and he guided it in without compunctions. He had been eager to get started. “See, nigga? This is how you do it! This is how you do it!”
In Samson’s eyes, he directed his words at Rico, a young prettyboy who been complaining about Samson’s jacking off — he was briefly in prison alongside Samson and was released yesterday with him. Rico was too nervous to pay much attention though, so he didn’t even realize Samson directed his words Rico’s way. At the state prison, most men messed with a few times, and Rico was no exception. But most of them had the decency to be ashamed of it. They didn’t bring it up, and they didn’t do it in public. They did it in hidden shadowy corners, or they set up a sheet as a curtain in their cell before getting started.
Samson, however, had never had any reluctance at all. He loved booty, and he didn’t really care whose ass he stuck his meat in. He slammed his dick into Rob’s ass, making a game of it as he tried to thrust so hard Rob couldn’t concentrate on the cock in his mouth. All Rob could do was keep his mouth open and let each nigga take a few turns on his throat.
“You like me in yo’ ass, sissy? Huh? I bet you do. I feel you, boy. I feel you good. I know you tryin’-a get my nut. Don’t you worry, boy, I won’t deny you dat. No way. Ol’ Samson gonna fill you up like a whore. You wanna be Samson’s whore? Course you do, boy. E’ry sissy wanna be my cumdump.”
Samson also didn’t see any reason to hold back from cumming. He had barely gotten started before he felt his orgasm approaching, and he wasn’t about to slow down — after all, if he didn’t cum now, he would have to do it after some other guys did. Samson didn’t mind having sloppy-seconds, or even tenths or whatever, but he would rather be the one who makes the seconds sloppy.
“Gonna make you real sloppy, sissy. Real sloppy.”
So when he came, he grabbed ahold of Rob’s hair, lifting his head up. Rob flailed and gripped tattooed brown muscles all around him, but the sensations were too intense for him to stroke. It was all he could do to moan and groan while Samson’s thick body rippled against Rob’s smooth back.
Cum sprayed into Rob’s ass, at the same time that someone else finally finished on Rob’s face. So he savored the flavor as his mouth filled up, and cum flowed into his ass. It tasted thick and buttery, its heat seeping into his skin. Since he couldn’t concentrate, Rob didn’t swallow. Semen dripped out past his lips and coated his cheeks and chin.
“Ah, damn, now we gettin’ into it. We broke the cumdump in…”
Samson was just as nasty — he laughed as the other niggas told him to stop, to let them take a turn. Someone even tapped him lightly on the ass, his plump cheeks jiggling, like he was a tag-team wrestler whose partner wanted in.
But Samson didn’t want to give up his turn yet. He wanted to leave his mark. His deep, booming laughter echoed as he kept on humping his now-limp dick in Rob’s tender ass. That had the effect of making his load into a big frothy mess. It trickled out of Rob’s hole through the sides of Samson’s dick, and then when he finally pulled out, huge bubbling clumps of cum flowed out. It coated Rob’s asscrack in Samson’s creamy seed.
“There, niggas. Them seconds is real sloppy,” Samson said, laughing as the others groaned in disgust.
Someone else finished on Rob’s face. Now that his ass was empty again — however briefly — Rob managed to swallow it deep. He savored the cummy flavor flowing over his tongue, and he let most of it drip out past his lips to make a bigger mess on his face.
The second man in his ass must have been stroking himself off hard, Rob thought, because he came right away. Another thug pushed nakedly through the crowd, his erect cock throbbing. “Outta my way, niggas, outta my way, I’m gonna blow-” and he didn’t quite make it in time. The first wad of his nut hit another thug on the thigh, but the rest made it onto Rob’s face, where is smeared over the trio of cocks there at the moment.
“You nutted on my leg, nigga!” someone roared.
A fight nearly broke out. There was some confusion about who had cum on whom — or maybe several people had accidentally done the same thing, Rob couldn’t even tell how many loads he had taken yet.
“Yo, no fightin’!”
“If you make us lose this thousand dollars, nigga… I swear to God!”
“What?! Try somethin’, nigga!”
But the older and cooler heads among them prevailed. It helped that all of the gangs represented here had a few leaders who could provide order and ensure peace, and Rob had promised those leaders an extra thousand dollars — to be disbursed later, when no one else was around — if they made sure the gangbang went smoothly.
Rob was surprised at how quickly they reached orgasm as they went, and how many of them came mainly from masturbating. A lot of them must have been watching intently and getting hard even though there were no women around — and Rob had forbidden porn from the scene.
Two thugs came at the same time in his mouth, the salty-sweet flavor of their cum distracting him from his thoughts. Rob guzzled it all down but made sure to play with both dicks too, so a lot of that cum covered their shafts before he sucked it back into his mouth. Those two thugs were Gariah and Bammy, a pair of identical twins. They specialized in gangbanging girls, just the two of them, and cumming simultaneously — they had initially tried it on a dare (and had been unsuccessful at timing it on that first occasion), but now managed to do it with every girlfriend either one had.
“Damn, simultaneous nuts! That was impressive, niggas.”
The pain in his ass went away as another fat cock slipped in his ass. The stout, tattooed thug who did that — Uggs was what he went by — groaned in disgust as cum leaked out and coated his dick and fingers. But it didn’t slow him down at all, and the cum probably helped, Rob thought, because it was an effective lube.
As Uggs approached his own orgasm, a thug named Sharnell appeared suddenly. He tried to ram his dick in as though Rob might get double-penetrated, but both dicks were way too big for that. So he just jabbed his cock in the direction of Rob’s ass, spraying his sudden cumload onto Ham’s cock.
“Oh, nigga! Why the fuck would you do that?”
“I dunno, man,” Sharnell said with a sheepish chuckle. “I wanted to cum in his ass and… I guess I got… y’know, confused…”
“You thought my dick was his asshole?” Uggs asked to assorted laughter. It looked like he was about to add something else, but he groaned and his eyes fluttered. He sprayed his own load into Rob’s guts, pulling out and letting another thug — Delroy — plump right in before Rob’s asshole had a chance to relax.
“Ugh, sloppy fifty-thirds…?”
“Somethin’ like that, at least fifty! How’s that feel? Huh, nigga? Yo’ dick be swimmin’ in cum!”
Delroy groaned like he was disgusted, but it didn’t slow him down any. “Don’t care, nigga, I love booty!” He play-kissed the air and laughed, as he plunged his cock into Rob’s moist, meaty goodness, and he laughed nervously when a great ball of filthy cum splashed up onto his ballsack.
Then another thug got involved — at first it looked as though he and Delroy might argue over Rob’s ass. But then they decided to take turns. Delroy mounted Rob from up high, while the other thug kneeled behind him. They each pushed their dick in once, then watched the other do so, frothing up all those loads and laughing at the mess they made.
Finally the both of them finished, spraying their loads onto Rob’s asshole just as a third nigga came out of nowhere to do the same. They all clasped hands and cheered each other on, no longer bothering to try to avoid splashback from each other’s loads. The prissiest men had cum first, probably, and a handful had simply jacked themselves off and cum on Rob — disappointing, but Rob wasn’t expecting them all to actually follow through. If all one hundred men took five minutes each, Rob would have to spend more than eight hours on this, and not even Rob’s ass could take that much punishment.
“Damn, let’s make this sissy the nastiest! Lookit that! I ain’t nevuh seen no female get this nasty!”
A lot of the finished guys held their clothes in their hands. They had all wanted to get dressed, but the first few niggas to finish stayed naked, watching intently, and the others just wanted to fit in. Nobody wanted to be the one who was so self-conscious he couldn’t handle being naked among the others.
They crammed in close to watch as the last few thugs finished cumming all over Rob. Their cocks rubbed against each other, leaving behind a residue of anal juices, cum and saliva. About half of them didn’t notice the dickmeat brushing up against each other, and the other half could think of nothing else.
Rob barely even noticed the final man approach. He was Tyrell, and he went last because he had bragged that he could. He didn’t meant to actually say he wanted to — what had happened was simply that he boasted how much of a horny mandingo he was, and the others had taken that at face value. Tyrell said he would ram anyone, in any hole, anytime, because he was a “real nigga” and “real niggas blow loads!”
When the others had teased him about going last, Tyrell instinctively agreed without thinking about it. That was not the first time he had mistakenly agreed to something due to his bravado, but, he thought as he approached Rob’s ass, this might be the worst time.
“Splash in!”
“Sloppy seventy-sevenths, nigga!!”
Tyrell bit his lip and slipped his cock in. When he was in prison last year, he had ramrodded a man several times. He had sloppy seconds once, and it was revolting. The other inmates teased him when he backed out and made the bottom wash up first, so Tyrell had changed his mind and slammed his meat into Rob’s ass so quickly that a big bubble of frothy cum had come up and popped. That had covered Tyrell’s crotch in sticky-white cum. He gagged then, but the other inmates clasped him on the back and encouraged him. ‘That’s how we do in this cell, baby! We get nasty!’ Tyrell had been proud of himself then. He even bragged about it to his father when he came for a visit, though his dad had smacked Tyrell in the face and told him “real niggas get nasty behind bars, but they don’t tell no one about it. What happens in there, stays in there.”
Tyrell gagged again at the feel of sticky cum dripping over his cock like alien goop. He was half-hard, hard enough he should be able to stick it in Rob’s ass, but he was nervous about touching so much cum. He didn’t know how many niggas had cum inside Rob, but it was at least fifty, probably more.
He tried to avoid using his hands, but his dick was not hard enough to just ram it in. He gingerly touched Rob’s cum-dripping asscheeks to pull them apart. There was so much cum there it was a bubbling out, no doubt making little fart-like noises though no one could hear that over the sound of niggas cheering.
“Get nasty, Tyrell!”
He took a deep breath and used his hand to guide it in. He gagged again but covered it up with a cough so no one knew how nervous he was. He prayed that he wouldn’t lose his erection. He couldn’t believe that he had agreed to go last — why didn’t he realize how gross this would be at the time? Of course the last nigga in a hundred-man slamfest was gonna get a nasty, loose asshole.
And it was loose. If it weren’t for the clumps of cum, Tyrell might have barely even felt the sides of Rob’s asshole. But as it was, he was just horny enough to stay hard as he forced his dick in. Great gobs of cum dripped from his fingers.
“Ah, shit, nigga, that is the most disgusting thing I evuh seen!”
Tyrell cheered. He liked hearing men clap and hoot at him. He knew they were teasing him, but he had always found that the best way to get past that was to pretend you loved whatever they teased you about. He grinned and growled. He even pounded on his chest, making his muscles jiggle as his hands dripped semen all over his dark brown flesh.
Finally, when he was on the verge of cumming, Tyrell groaned. He yelped as Rob pulled away from him, and his cock was temporarily visible to everyone — he had a big, brown veiny shaft that no one could see because it was coated in santorum. Dingy white cum, its pearlescence obviated by the anal juices mixed in, dripped off and onto the ground as his dick vibrated.
“Ah, shit, lookit that nasty meat!”
“That is one slutty sissy!”
Tyrell’s dick was only bare for a half a second or so, but that was enough time for everyone to see it. Tyrell himself gagged at the sight of his own meat soaked in other niggas’s cum. Seconds later, Rob turned around and licked a clean stripe on the underside of Tyrell’s dick.
The taste of ass-and-cum overwhelmed Rob’s senses. He groaned and moaned, letting out such a cringingly potent sound that everyone fell silent as they watched. The thugs leaned in, coming closer together, so everyone’s bare crotches and sweaty, gleaming muscles rubbed against each other.
“Ah shit, a champion slut for the ages!”
“You should teach my whores how to be this nasty, boy. You could give lessons and shit…”
“Ass-to-mouth! Ass-to-mouth!”
Rob licked every inch of Tyrell’s incredible meat. It tasted so bad and so good at the same time that Rob wished he had made them all do ass-to-mouth. He deep-throated that assy cock as he felt Tyrell’s balls crawl up in his sac.
After getting ninety-nine loads all over his body, Rob wanted to swallow this one. He moaned and gripped Tyrell’s asscheeks so tightly Tyrell couldn’t pull away if he wanted to. Tyrell’s massive dick throbbing in Rob’s throat before he finally shot his load.
His dick was aimed right down Rob’s gullet, so Rob didn’t taste any of that cum at first — he still tasted all the other cum that stuck to Tyrell’s cockshaft, but the actual fresh load was spurted too deep down his throat to taste it. Instead he felt it flow into his stomach, settling into a tight, warm, savory ball of lust deep in his belly.
“Oh, yeah, whiteboy, that is the way to do it…” Tyrell said with a moan, forgetting his anxiety about getting so much cum all over his body.
He kept on spraying. He leaned his head back and smiled at his fellow thugs as he finally finished, leaving his limp dick in place until every last drop was in Rob’s stomach. Then he pulled out, and Rob gagged again as that shiny shaft plopped out of his mouth.
“Hell yeah, nigga! You got him good!”
“Where’s our money? Huh, sissy?! We ain’t fight! We did what we s’sposed to,” someone shouted indignantly. Rob couldn’t see who that was, but whoever it was sounded annoyed that Rob hadn’t already given out the thousand dollars.
“Relax, relax,” Rob said, holding hands up for silence. “I haven’t even finished swallowing yet, chill out. I’ve got a thousand dollars for each of you. Why don’t you get dressed and form a line right here?” He leaned back and sighed.
They cheered and clapped their hands, waving their bare cocks in his direction. When this began, it was obvious who was in which gang because they clustered together. But now, that was no longer the case. They had seemingly forgotten about their differences and were lining up. They didn’t even notice that Rob had told them to get dressed first. Most of them were in line already, still stark naked.
That was fine with Rob, who stretched as he stood on his sore knees. Everywhere he looked were naked thugs, and he was already wondering if he could get any more action out of them.
He decided not to do that because it would take too long. He paid them with an app, of course, as he was definitely not bringing a hundred grand in cash to this event. As his phone whirred and worked, each thug had stand there while Rob paid him using one hand, his other hand caressing their muscles and their limp dicks.
All in all, it took nearly two hours to pay them all off, and by the time he was done, Rob was just about ready to go again. He smiled and leaned back in his chair.
Maybe I’ll do rednecks next, Rob thought. He had passed a trailer park on the way into Detroit, and that had looked promising. But first he wanted to simply sit back and finish basking in his post-orgasm glow.
And then he’d head over to the trailer park to get started.

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.”

Seven Minutes in Heaven

Lance is a victorious lawyer given a reward he’ll never forget: Seven Minutes in Heaven with a hunky jock named Chris. He gets seven minutes to do anything he wants to Chris’s studly body, and he fully intends to get the most out of every minute!

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Or read the whole thing here!

Lance didn’t want to go to the party, but it was being thrown in his honor, so he couldn’t refuse. The Smashwood crew had lit a big bonfire by the time he got there, and they were all shotgunning beers — they hadn’t been allowed to drink while they were on house arrest, so now they were making up for lost time.
To Lance, it was bittersweet. He had been living in Oklahoma for most of a year, and he had gotten his local law license in time to defend a group of offenders from Smashwood Trailer Park, who were accused of a series of small-time robberies and assaults. He was proud of his success in getting all of the charges dropped. On the other hand, he knew they were guilty. They had beat a man so badly he spent ten months in the hospital. On the other, other hand, the state of Oklahoma had been unable to prove it, so he didn’t regret getting them off. That was his job, after all, and he was good at it.
“Congrat’lations, man!”
“My girl’s pussy thanks ya!”
“Hell yeah! Best lawyer in Oklahoma!”
Someone handed him a beer, and Lance sipped it at first, then realized the others were all chugging, so he did likewise.
“Come on, broh, drink it!” Chris Hazel yelled through a barrel of drunken laughs, and the others echoed him. Chris was the youngest here, only nineteen, and built like the high school football star he had been just a year or two ago. He had a jolly-cute face though. “Chug it! Chug it!”
“Hey, so… uh…” Math sidled up to Lance, shooing his friends away and telling them to stop pestering him. Math was the leader of the Smashwood guys — a loose-knit gang of small-time thieves — alleged thieves — he was the one who faced the most extensive charges, so he benefited the most by Lance getting the whole crew acquitted. Math leaned in so close his face was right next to Lance’s ear. “So, uh… How crazy is you?”
“Very,” he said. Then without thinking about it, he kissed Math on the lips. Math’s eyes opened wide amid the laughter and shocked gasps from the other rednecks. For a moment, Lance thought Math was going to hit him, but then Math smiled — it hadn’t been much of a kiss, after all, just a dry peck on the lips.
Math pointed to the three girls at the party. They were hot, in a slutty redneck way, and they lounged in one corner as though waiting. They wore skimpy outfits that showed off their tits and ass, and they each had trashy tattoos on their lower back. Lance strongly suspected they were prostitutes.
“You wanna fuck one of them? Or all three?”
Lance shook his head. “Thanks,” he said. “But no thanks. I’m not interested.” That was both because he wasn’t in a mood for women right now and cuz he didn’t do prostitutes. Lance preferred a more elegant class of women. “No prostitutes for me, Lyle.” Lance called him ‘Lyle’ because ‘Math’ was a gang name and he had denied throughout the trial that he was the person known as ‘Math’. Lance chose not to use it when he could avoid it. He had made the argument in court, after all, that Lyle was not Math.
“I told you guys!” Math called out to the others. Math’s voice was suddenly loud, booming across the trailer park. Most of them had moved on and were trying to get a three-wheeler unstuck from a muddy ditch it couldn’t extricate itself from, so the party was quiet enough for an ordinary conversation.
A burst of chatter hit the guys around the bonfire. Lance didn’t hear what they were saying because everyone spoke at once.
“You want a different female?” Math asked.
Lance shook his head. “You don’t owe me anything, Lyle. You already paid me for my services.”
“I ain’t tryna-a pay you,” Math said. “I’m tryna-a congratulate you.” He sneered as though Lance should have known the difference.
“Let ‘im cornhole you, Math!” said someone else with a laugh.
“Yeah, Math, you do it! You the one who had the most to lose.”
That was true — Math had faced some extra charges because he was in charge of the beatdown, plus the bloody bat had been found in his trailer here in the Smashwood Trailer Park. But Math looked horrified at the thought, and he furrowed his brow at Lance as though he hadn’t considered he would be willing to cornhole a man but not fuck a woman.
Then Math’s eyes lit up. He must have concluded Lance was Christian. Which was true, but not the reason Lance didn’t want a prostitute.
“He don’t wanna cornhole me,” Math said with a wrinkle of his nose.
“Uh…?” Lance smiled. “No, Lyke. You’re wrong about that.”
“Really? We was gonna let you swing on some dick if you wanted, but we thought you’d want a woman instead,” Math said.
“You thought that, Math,” someone said with a laugh. Whoever it was shrouded by the darkness beyond the bonfire.
Math shrugged. “Well, fine, pick someone to jerk off,” he said. “Ain’t no one here gonna take no dick up the ass, but a mouth is a mouth, right guys?”
Lance was astonished.
Chris, that young fresh-faced jock, chuckled and blushed. “Seven Minutes in Heaven! We should play Seven Minutes in Heaven with him!” he blurted out a few times until the others heard. He was a husky baby-faced redneck, with a literal red neck and scruffy chin like he only just gained enough facial hair to shave and was growing a beard because he finally could. His meaty lineman-jock body jiggled. “Seven Minutes in Heaven!”
“What are we, middle-schoolers?”
“Shut the fuck up, Chris.”
“What’s Seven Minutes in Heaven?” Lance had never heard of it.
Despite most of the rednecks saying no and telling Chris it was a stupid game for teenagers, they all accepted his idea. Lance had no idea what he was talking about, as the rednecks all formed a tight circle near the bonfire.
Math explained, “So this is a game, we normally play it with just the girls, or we used to play it in high school,” he said. “It’s stupid, a kid’s game. We don’t do it no more.” But despite his words, they got ready to play, Math included. The girls joined the circle as well. “It’s basically Spin-the-Bottle but rather than just kiss, you have to go in the dirty-dawg trailer-” he pointed to an uninhabited trailer next to the bonfire, “for seven minutes.”
“And we… do what??”
“Whatever you want,” Math said.
Math nodded grimly. “Even me, man. It’s just dome, or whatever. Just let ‘im taste yer nut. Ain’t a big deal. We all spent a night in lockup-” He stopped because the other guys clapped and coughed over him as though they had all promised not to speak of whatever had happened there. His voice trailed off.
Someone put the bottle in Lance’s hand. If he weren’t so nervous — and excited — he would have declined. But he spun the bottle anyway.
“Not me! Not me!”
“Hey, after the sissy, let’s keep going, we got three girls, that’s nine holes to fill!”
It almost landed on one of the girls, then just barely managed to rotate to the next person in the circle. Chris.
Lance’s heart started pounding — if he had thought rationally about it, Chris would be exactly whom he would have picked: the handsome jock with the muscles and the dimples… He would be ideal. But this was all happening so fast that Lance didn’t even think about his ideal first choice before it was all done.
“Makes sense, it was your idea,” Math said over the hooting laughter. The others laughed and catcalled at Chris, who blushed beet-red. Somebody smacked him on the ass as he walked towards the trailer. He cast a nervous glance at Lance. He had a nice phat ass, and his cheeks rippled when his friends tapped him on the ass. He bristled like he was uncomfortable with it, but didn’t complain.
“I don’t even care, I’ll let some sissy swing on my dick,” Chris said. “I need to get my dick wet!” He grabbed his overflowing crotch-bulge as he stood in the threshold of the trailer, then entered. His confidence disappeared entirely once he was in the trailer. He made eye contact with Lance and winced.
Chris was a tall, beefy young man, with broad shoulders and a barrel-shaped body. He had been a linebacker on his high school football team, and he still retained all that heft and meat even now, a couple years out of school. He had peachfuzz on his cheek and his chest — visible under the wifebeater he wore — and a thick mop of blond hair on his head. He had a powerful body beneath his layer of padding, which was just thick enough. He had the physique of an athlete who had never watched what he ate, so his perfect frame was concealed by a layer of sexy plumpness. He smelled of sweat and cheap deodorant, a scent that made Lance’s dick get hard in his pants.
“Whatchoo wanna do?” Chris asked, his voice wavering. It sounded like he rarely lacked confidence, and was uncomfortable with it.
“What, uh… What are the rules?” Lance asked.
“You can do whatever you want,” Chris said. He blushed again, as his friends outside called out to him.
“You swallowin’ that sissy dick yet, Chris? Bet you regret comin’ up with this idea?!”
“Fuckin’ retard!”
“Cornhole Chris! Cornhole Chris! Make him cry, Lance!”
Chris sighed. “I know Math said you can say no, but you ain’t s’sposed. Or I ain’t s’sposed to, I mean… neither of us is s’sposed to. It’s bein’ a bad sport.”
“Oh,” Lance said. Not wanting to waste any time, he sunk to his knees. Chris wore dirty, loose jeans, and Lance grabbed his crotch through the denim. He sniffed the filthy material, then looked up at Chris, who watched as though terrified of what was happening.
The rednecks outside outside the trailer were chanting “Cornhole Chris!” over and over as they directed flashlights through the curtains into the trailer. Their light danced on the walls like searchlights. The curtains meant they couldn’t see inside anyway, but the lights were still blinding for Chris and Lance.
Chris nodded. “I play by the rules, suh,” he said. “Just tell them you jerked me off, and I have a huge one. Ain’t gotta lie ‘bout that. I don’t give a shit who swallow my nut.” Despite his words, he sucked in his breath as Lance touched his dick. Lance suspected he had rarely, if ever, let a man jerk him off, except perhaps that one time in jail (when it seemed the whole crew had done so — Lance wondered who had done the swallowing then; had it been one of them? Or was there an outsider in there with them?).
Lance unzipped Chris’s jeans and pulled them down. He wore plain dingy white briefs, which Lance also pulled down. He whistled at the sight of Chris’s massive cockshaft, which hung limply between his trunkish legs.
“Hey, Chris, squeal like a piggie, okay? I know you can do it! Yee-haw!”
A blush spread across Chris’s face, and he frowned like a part of him wanted to run outside and start throwing punches. Lance guzzled down his limp dick before he could change his mind. Chris had a thick, greasy slab of meat, and his youthful vigor meant it perked up in Lance’s mouth right away.
“Ah, damn…” Chris said, a blush appearing on his babyface as though he hadn’t meant to reveal how good this dome was. “You swallow that like a champion mare, boy.”
Lance smiled around the rapidly firming cock in his throat. He slathered spit up and down Chris’s shaft, and he grinned as the plump cocktip tickled the back of his throat.
“He’ll do anything, Lance, remember that! This is Seven Minutes in Heaven, not Seven Minutes in Compromise!”
“Stick it in his ass! Make ‘im squeal!”
They laughed as though it was a huge joke, but also with a trace of seriousness. From the faint grumblings that Lance heard indistinctly outside, he suspected that two men had, on occasion, gone into this trailer before for a similar purpose. They were whispering about it as some long-ago scandal.
Chris grunted as though surprised at how good this spot of dome felt as Lance swallowed his cock down to the root. He quickly got hard, and he humped his hips into Lance’s face. Chris’s round jaw wriggled as he chewed on his lower lip, whether out of passion or anxiety or both Lance wasn’t sure.
The sour flavor of precum coated Lance’s tongue. He moaned and let some of it drip out of his mouth, running in rivulets down the veins that wrapped over Chris’s plump shaft.
Six minutes left!
Lance wanted to see how far he could take Chris, so he licked the man’s heavy, low-hanging balls while taking his own cock out of his pants. He licked a trail from Chris’s cock and over his belly.
Chris was in excellent shape, but he didn’t have a six-pack — it was obvious, to Lance anyway, that he didn’t have the body-type for it. This was probably about as close as he was capable of getting, just a little paunch and a layer of padding over his dictionary-sized pecs. Lance sucked on his nipples as Chris’s muscles rippled and he held back a moan.
Chris either didn’t care or didn’t notice as Lance jousted with his cock and Chris’s. Lance stroked off both shafts at once. Chris was more focused on moaning as his nipples grew erect in Lance’s mouth. With both men’s precum running from their cocktips, it wasn’t obvious to Chris that the sensation on his dick came from Lance’s manhood rather than his fingers.
Then Chris blanched. His hands fluttered like he didn’t know where to put them — he had realized he was touching dicks with Lance. He moaned with pleasure, then blushed as if he was trying to stop from moaning.
“You want me to stop?”
“Nah,” Chris said. He took a deep breath. He spoke quietly to be sure no one outside could hear. From the occasional rocking and banging on the walls, it sounded like the other rednecks were right on the other side, listening for any hint at what was going on in there. “I’ll do anything you want,” Chris whispered. He looked down at his massive trailer park-bred feet. Lance got on his knees and kissed him on the lips, which were dry and thick. Chris opened his mouth as though he had been waiting for that, and their tongues interlocked. Lance was shocked that Chris kissed him back.
As someone outside called out, Five minutes left, Lance decided to hurry up. He sunk back down, tongue leaving a trail of spit down Chris’s thick neck, chest, belly, crotch and thigh. He intended to let Chris ram his face.
But it seemed Chris didn’t get that. Chris instead grumbled a bit but mounted Lance’s body backwards, as though he was going to sixty-nine. Lance gasped with shock as Chris’s cock and balls plopped on his face. Sweat and precum dribbled down his cheek.
“Thanks for getting me outta prison,” Chris said.
Then, before Lance could tell him he didn’t have to do this, Chris swallowed Lance’s dick. He gagged right away, even before it hit the back of his throat, and then he gagged continuously until he got used to it. His tongue battered Lance’s cockshaft, which was already erect and throbbing. Lance sucked in his breath, and his toes curled.
Absolutely shocked by this development, Lance nearly blew his load immediately. He had rarely felt such intense pleasure, as his cock throbbed and pulsated in Chris’s mouth. Chris gurgled, and he sucked down every drop, regardless of how his throat spasmed around the salty precum that leaked down his gullet.
Lance instinctively used one hand to guide Chris’s head up and down, while Chris’s meaty body planted his own cock in Lance’s throat. Lance swallowed it to the root, and he too slathered spit up and down the shaft. Chris hadn’t lost any bit of his erection, so it firmly filled Lance’s throat and it too spewed precum into Lance’s belly.
Seemingly overcome by passion, Chris stopped playing with Lance’s precum-nearly-cumming cock. He lifted his head up and grunted as he slammed his dick deep into Lance’s throat. He gasped, and Lance choked. His thick arms grabbed both of Lance’s legs and held on to them tightly.
His mouth open and his head near Lance’s dick, Chris was trying to swallow that dick once more, but his orgasm was too intense to do it. He couldn’t concentrate, all he could do was moan as pleasure shuddered through his body, while Lance’s dick did little more than bob and spasm, leaving a trail of juices along Chris’s butterface.
“Yee-haw, fuck! Yeah!” Chris said as quietly as he could muster. His back arched and the peachfuzz on his spine stood up.
Chris’s entire muscular body jiggled when he came, spraying a load all the way down Lance’s gullet. He felt up his own nipples with each hand, and his burly body puckered beneath Lance’s grasp. Lance savored the creamy texture and salty flavor as it overwhelmed his senses.
Then Chris kneeled, planting his hairy ass on Lance’s face. He laughed as Lance licked the ticklish taint between his thighs. He reached out and stroked Lance’s dick with one hand, while his other caressed Lance’s smooth chest.
Chris breathed deeply, with a sick smile on his face as he watched Lance lick his sensitive taint. Every few seconds a shudder of post-orgasmic pleasure shot through him, and Chris’s whole body writhed atop Lance’s face.
“Damn, you smooth as hell, boy,” he said.
“Have you ever messed around with a man before?”
Chris looked away. He didn’t answer out loud, but it was obvious the answer was yes — Lance really wanted to ask for details, but he didn’t think Chris would provide any, and regardless, Lance was too aroused to concentrate. He couldn’t believe this football jock was touching his cock.
It was probably in prison, anyway, before the trial, when it seemed Math, Chris and all the others had messed around. As the youngest, they might have made Chris bottom for the whole crew, Lance thought, a possibility that Lance wished he could have watched.
He took his ass off Lance’s face, then mounted Lance’s crotch. He squatted over it and let his ass land on Lance’s hardon. He looked pained even before Lance’s dick sunk inside him. He winced and hung his head to avoid eye contact with Lance.
“Oh shit that hurts!” Chris said with a wince. That made it seem like he was intact, Lance thought, as another burst of bliss wracked his body, emanating from his sensitive cock.
“Sorry, sorry,” Lance murmured, his lithe body growing sweaty as the trailer heated up. He let out a cringing moan of passion as Chris lowered his plump cheeks. Lance chuckled. “Ow, shit, Chris! That’s too big!”
“Ah, damn, horse-cock Chris strikes again!”
“Hold ‘im down, boy! Ain’t no backin’ out!”
His dick disappeared in Chris’s well-muscled ass, which was firm as overinflated basketballs. Chris’s blushing face turned even redder from both embarrassment and pain. His post-orgasmic dick even spasmed a few times when Lance hit Chris’s prostate. Jizz leaked onto Lance’s belly and slid into his crotchhair.
Lance grabbed Chris’s body and felt his muscles, which were tense and flexed. Beneath the padding he was like a statue though, gym-toned muscles firm as rocks, and the feel of his masculine physique made Lance want to ram him like this forever, instead of a mere seven minutes in heaven. Chris remained perfectly still aside from an occasional gasp and wince.
“Damn, Chris, you got a perfect ass…” Lance muttered, as the tightness of it sent waves of sensation through his body. He kissed Chris’s muscular torso and licked the sweat that had collected there.
His dick was all the way inside Chris now, sliding in and out. Chris was such a big boy that his asscrack was huge, matted with dark blond hair and dripping with sweat, spit and assjuice. That meant he was well-lubed, so Lance could easily slid his dick in and out. Chris did suck in his breath every few seconds in pain, but he didn’t complain.
One minute left!
The more they got a good rhythm going, the most Chris seemed to get into it. It wasn’t clear that he even heard the men outside giving him just one minute left. Lance didn’t want Chris to get caught in this position when they opened the door, so he plowed hard back and forth, ignoring the spasming pain of Chris’s muscles. Instead Lance rammed his crotch against Chris over and over as his climax mounted.
Finally that orgasm hit him like a linebacker tackle, just as Lance heard the men outside chanting and counting down the last thirty seconds. Lance gasped, and Chris squealed his discomfort. He blushed at having made such an unmanly sound. Luckily nobody outside seemed to hear it.
As the orgasm washed over him, Lance yelped and squirmed. He made enough noise that the rednecks outside heard and laughed. They were knocking on the door now, but it seemed they had a rule of not opening the door until the seven minutes was up.
Lance’s limp cock plopped out of Chris’s ass. Chris breathed a sigh of relief. Then without another word, he backed up, making all of the jizz up his backside flow out and plop onto Lance’s back.
As the last ten-second countdown began, Chris rested his balls right on Lance’s nostrils, and the scent of his rank sweat coated Lance’s nose. Chris’s balls smelled like his own ass, mixed with feet and cum and perspiration. It was almost enough to make Lance nut all over again.
Chris guffawed. “I’s teabaggin’ him, guys!”
“Four. Three! Two! One!”
They flung the door open, obviously hoping to catch Chris in a compromising situation. But Chris was on top of Lance, leaving no clue that Chris had been penetrated. His gigantic cock was plainly visible — that must have been his goal, Lance thought, to make sure his friends saw he had a giant cock, and Chris was teabagging Lance. Lance’s body was covered in cum — and so was Chris’s ass, not that they could see that.
They clapped at the sight of Lance’s moist face. Chris blushed as though he hadn’t meant to get caught at all, and he pulled his underwear on. Someone handed him a beer as he left the trailer, still wearing nothing but his briefs, and Math smacked his ass with a howl. His asscheeks must have had jizz clinging to them — Lance’s jizz — but Math either didn’t notice or didn’t want to point it out in front of th ewhole crew.
“You alright, Lance?” Math asked. He side-eyed Chris.
“He’s fine,” Chris said, winking at Lance. “His ass couldn’t quite take the Big C-” He grabbed his cock through his shorts and wagged it at Math. “But his mouth managed to hold in there. It was seven minutes in heaven for sure.”
“That’s right,” Lance said with a knowing grin as he too stepped out of the trailer. “It truly was seven minutes in utter heavenly bliss.” He was exhausted but he tried to hide it, thinking it might look obvious that he had done some plowing and that Chris had bottomed.
But most people were drunk by then, and they just guffawed at Chris’s embarrassed look. No one even seemed to consider the possibility that Chris had bottomed.
And in any case, they were all focused on moving onto the next round of the game. That meant getting the remaining men — plus those three prostitutes — to sit down in a circle with a bottle yet again. Lance hung out near that trailer, hoping he would be able to get a peek inside at what happened during the next Seven Minutes in Heaven.

Mafia Punishment

Tedi is an effeminate twink who never thought the Mafia would come to him to help dole out punishment. But when one of the Caprinelli family’s enforcers is proven to have snitched, Tedi is all too eager to get down and dirty teaching that uomo a lesson!

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The wedding was a nerve-wracking affair, even for Tedi, and it wasn’t even his wedding. He was a long-time friend of the family, but the family in question was the family — the Cavollos. They were the most powerful Mafia clan in New Jersey. The Cavollos themselves had never acknowledged it, except for Sonny, and he only obliquely referred to it on a few occasions when he was drunk.
Tedi had grown up as Sonny’s best friend, and stayed with him in college and ever since. They had drifted apart only slightly as they each developed an independent life. But when Sonny got married, there was no one to be best man and compare d’anello except for Tedi.
The wedding was held in St. Michael’s Cathedral on Staten Island. It was a beautiful affair, and everything went exactly according to plan — with one exception: a groomsmen who was missing.
There were five groomsmen (il testimoni) who had come to the wedding rehearsal. They weren’t exactly friends of Sonny’s, but they were closest thing Sonny had to a friend besides Tedi — made mafia men simply didn’t have close friends. Tedi was an exception because he had been friends with Sonny for a long time, he was not in the mafia or otherwise involved in any kind of crime, and he was small, delicate and weak. Nobody treated him like a serious rival.
The five groomsmen were Francesco Lancinelli, Frankie di Pietro, Joey Rizzoli, Baldo Bianchi and Demetrio Collera.
Tedi enjoyed jerking them off once, along with the groom himself, during the bachelor party — they had sworn an oath to god not to fuck any stripper or whore. So they let Tedi jerk them off while a stripper ground her feminine wiles on their bodies. That had been a good night for Tedi, even if it ended with an argument (apparently there was a leak in their organization, and Francesco disagreed on who it likely was).
It was Francesco who had disappeared before the wedding.
The weirdest thing about that was that no one mentioned it. Tedi’s nervous mind noticed it just before the wedding began — he counted only four groomsmen. But he assumed the fifth was around somewhere, and he was so anxious about the ceremony that he couldn’t even focus enough to figure out who was missing.
Once the I dos were said, Tedi stood there in his lavender suit, just a few feet from the four burly Mafioso. He realized it was Francesco who was missing.
Francesco Lancinelli was the biggest, the least handsome and the toughest of the five groomsmen, and he had the most massive cock. Tedi loved jerking him off. He had a crude caveman-like face, with rough-hewn jawlines and perpetually stubbled chin, his beard hair always uneven due to a network of scars crisscrossing his neck and face. He had the kind of domineering personality and massive muscles that repelled women. Tedi felt sorry for him, but was also hopeful that he’d come calling to Tedi to ask for more dome in the future.
But now where was he? And why had no one noticed? His name was even listed in the program for the wedding, but no one remarked on his absence. It was only as the reception began that the horrifying thought he could be dead assaulted Tedi’s mind. Was that possible?
No, of course not. The Mafia was a lot of things, but they were not clinical and detached. If a groomsman had died between the wedding rehearsal and the wedding, it would have been announced; they would have mourned him at the start of the wedding; Sonny would have worn a black armband or something like that. They wouldn’t just proceed with the wedding like nothing had happened.
“Hey, Tedi, come on,” Sonny said once he had finished his traditional dance with his new wife. His voice sounded distant even though he was right next to Tedi. He had to scream to be heard over the crowd. He grabbed Tedi by the arm and pulled him away.
“Where are we going?” Tedi asked, but his weak voice was lost in the din.
He followed Sonny, whose body shuffled thickly — he had been putting on weight since he got engaged — in his tight tuxedo, which was plainly uncomfortable for him. He had loosened his tie, which hung around his neck. Much to Tedi’s surprise, he led Tedi out of the church and into the Italian-American community center next door.
Then he breathed a sigh of relief that he was away from the crowd. Sonny stopped for a moment and took a deep breath. He leaned against the wall. The bulge in his pants suggested he was going to ask Tedi for dome — that was probably why he had left the church, Tedi decided, to get do it somewhere other than sacred ground.
But why did he want dome just hours before he’d be able to be with his wife in lawfully-wedded bliss? Was he really that horny? Maybe it was the stress, Tedi decided. He grabbed the bulge and smiled at Sonny. Tedi had long been jerking his friend off.
“No,” Sonny said. “That ain’t what I brought ya here fo’, man.”
“Oh?”
Sonny shook his head. He gulped nervously. “Come on.” He opened the door to a deep storage closet, piled high with boxes and athletic equipment. There was a crowd of men in tuxedos. Since they all wore the same clothes and had the same slicked-back black hair, Tedi didn’t quite recognize them right away in the dim light of the closet.
Then he saw that they were the four groomsmen. Frankie, Joey, Baldo and Demetrio all stood there, clustered around another tuxedo-clad man who was slumped over a chair sideways, so the arms of the rickety wooden chair supported his belly and chest.
After a few seconds, Tedi realized that the man who was slumped over was fully conscious, that he was Francesco and that he was tied up and gagged. His hair was slicked back like all the others, but his tuxedo was ruffled, torn in a few spots, and he had a fresh black eye.
“Hey, guys. What’s going on? What happened to Francesco? Is he okay?”
“No, he ain’t,” Sonny said with a chuckle. He stepped forward, pushing past Tedi in the tiny closet. He slapped Francesco on the ass through his tuxedo pants. “Francesco… He fucked up, Tedi. He’s the snitch. He’s been leakin’ like an old man’s dick.”
“What?”
Sonny laughed cockily. “I ain’t know a simpler way to say that, Tedi. He’s a snitch. He’s a person who snitches. He has snitched. You want me to translate into Italian?”
“Oh, I mean… Oh…” Tedi didn’t know what he was supposed to say. Sonny never really discussed Mafia business. He sometimes talked about the “import/export” business in ways that made it clear what he was really talking about, but he was rarely so blatant and open about it.
“We’re gonna punish him. We would do it ourselves, but…” Sonny said with a dry chuckle. “We ain’t want to. It’s my wedding day. My giorno sacro…”
“And I think it’s gross,” Joey said. He was the handsome one, the one who always had a girl hanging off his arm. He had deep dimples and smooth skin. “Francesco here is hairy come un barbaro, and if you think I’m shaving his ass, you got another thing coming.”
“Wait, so… You want me to…?” Tedi’s heart started pounding as he realized they wanted him to ram Francesco.
As if he had only just figured it out as well, Francesco squealed through the gag in his mouth. His muscles struggled against the bindings keeping him on the chair, and he fought so hard the chair itself nearly fell over. Sonny and the others laughed.
“So, how about it, Tedi?” Sonny asked. “You wanna wreck this snitchin’ rat?”
“Uh… Well… fuck, yeah!” Tedi said. He blushed as they all cheered. Francesco bleated, screaming profanity the best he could with what appeared to be underwear shoved in his mouth.
Sonny removed a pocketknife from his tuxedo slacks. For a moment, it looked like he was going to stab Francesco in the asshole. But he just sliced through the man’s pants, leaving a shadowy hole in front of his ass.
That wasn’t enough for Tedi. He liked ass, and he wanted to see it. He pulled on either end of the tear in the slacks, trying to rip the entire bottom off. But he blushed — the fabric was too tough, and Tedi was too weak. He strained for a minute or two before Baldo, the strongest one here aside from Francesco himself, grabbed the fabric from him. He ripped the entire ass of the slacks off.
Francesco had a beautifully thick ass, brimming with plump muscle and coarse black hairs. There was a big splat of scar tissue, vaguely circular or spiral-shaped, but distended by time, on his right asscheek.
“You want him to swallow your cum too?” Sonny asked. “Or are you just gonna go straight for the ramrodding?”
Tedi shrugged. “I… I mean, won’t he just bite down?”
“We got a plan for that,” he said. “He won’t bite.”
A part of Tedi didn’t feel confident in that. But he rarely got the chance to ram a man in the ass, especially not a big hairy macho like Francesco.
“I, uh… I just want his ass, honestly. I’d love to see him swallow some dick though. Would you guys ram his throat?”
They all looked around like no one wanted to do it but no one wanted to say no. Tedi blushed. Francesco heaved and screamed the best he could through his gag.
Demetrio laughed. “Ain’t you required to give yo’ friends favors on your wedding day, Sonny?” They all laughed along with him.
Sonny shook his head even as he said yes. “We, uh… Yeah. I guess we might as well. We’re gonna ram you in the throat, you little snitchin’ bitch.” Francesco struggled against the gag in his mouth, which Sonny pulled off. Francesco gasped for air, but Sonny spat on his face and barked for him to be silent. “I’m gonna give you a choice for how this ends, motherfucker. You can jerk us off and take it from Tedi, do everything he says, no matter how gross. You got that? Repeat it for me, Francesco, so I know you understand.”
“Sonny, I ain’t sellin’ secrets to the Caprinelli family-“
“You shut up! We found that book in your house, Francesco. We saw it. We got records from Tranquillo Caprinelli. We got a mole too, rat, and I ain’t tell you word one about it.”
“Sonny-“
“You know how I told you we was gonna hit the Caprinelli house on Saturday?” Sonny asked. “Well, they was waiting there with guns ready. They knew we was coming. Only we wasn’t coming, Francesco. We wasn’t coming at all. I told Demetrio we was doing it on Friday. I told Joey on Tuesday. Baldovino on Thursday, and Francesco the Saturday before that. But we ain’t hit them any day. I just waited to see when they thought we was coming. That was yo’ day, Francesco. What made them think we was gonna hit them on Saturday?”
“Sonny… We used to be friends…”
“Huh? You was gonna let me walk into a trap, motherfucker. They was gonna blow my brains out,” Sonny said. “So don’t you talk to me about friendship, or loyalty. Sputo sul vostro onore!” Sonny spat on his face again, and the others joined in. Tedi enjoyed watching Francesco’s moist, craggy face scrunch up and beg; he wrinkled his nose at the saliva dripping from his cheeks. His muscles were tense — at the moment, Tedi couldn’t have stuck anything in Francesco’s ass, which was shut tight with terror. But he wasn’t trying to. He caressed those plump cheeks and fingered the rim of his puckering asshole.
“Now I was tryin’ to explain your two options befo’ you in’rrupted me, Francesco,” Sonny said. “I’m gonna let you choose. Option One begins with you taking it in the ass from Tedi — and you better thank yo’ hairy culo di una scimmia that the rest of us won’t touch it, cuz that’s nasty — and jerking on dicks. You gonna swallow a mountain of cum. You ain’t nevuh gonna be a real man ever again, you’ll be a frocio zoccola. And then I’ll buy you a bus ticket to Las Vegas. You can sell your body or whatever, just drink yourself to death there. I don’t care what you do. That’s Option One, Francesco, questo è Opzione Uno. Can you tell me that in yo’ own words so I know you unn’erstand it?”
Sonny often spoke like this to the men under his command. Tedi didn’t usually get to witness it, but he knew it — Sonny wanted to make sure the pig-headed brutes who worked for him understood their mission, so he always made them put it in their own words. Sonny was arrogant and patronizing, so Tedi wasn’t surprised that most of the men who worked for him hated him.
“Sonny…” Francesco hung his head over the side of the chair. Sonny slapped him. Francesco sputtered. “I… I can… submit, and uh, let yo’ friend cornhole me. And jerk all you off. That’s Option One. You’ll let me go to Las Vegas afterwards.”
“You make it sound like a vacation. It’s more of an exile,” Sonny said. “But you’ll be alive. Opzione Due is less pleasant, but more final. Tedi here is gonna cornhole you hard. I just might order Joey to do it too, even if he don’t want to-” Sonny said with a laugh suggesting that wasn’t serious — Joey’s eyes opened wide and he turned slightly greenish; he was a handsome, cleanliness-oriented and organized man, deeply religious but with a bevy of loose women following him around every night, so he was the last one who would likely deign to ram Francesco’s hairy asshole. Sonny smacked Francesco’s ass, which quivered and twitched.
It also opened up. Since Tedi’s finger was waiting there at the entrance, he slipped it in. It was just his pinkie for the moment, and just down to the first knuckle. But Francesco’s face turned bright red and he let out an agonized roar. His muscles flexed against the ropes tying him to the chair. His asshole clenched on Tedi’s finger.
“You got a finger in che culo, paisano?”
“Yeah, Sonny. Just one finger for now,” Tedi said.
“Option Two, Francesco, has got one major benefit. We ain’t gonna plow you in the mouth if you ain’t gonna swear you won’t bite down. So you won’t have to swallow any Italian dicks,” Sonny said. “But we is gonna sell yo’ ass to the Bloods.” He cackled as Francesco squirmed and struggled against his bindings. He slapped Francesco’s face. “And you know what those moolies are gonna do… They gonna plow you with big black dicks. They gonna let some crackheads plow you, just to watch you squirm and collect diseases. They hate Italians, and they hate disloyal rats, so you is gonna wish you was dead. Then you will be dead. They’ll just toss you in the ghetto with black cum all over your face, maybe a crack pipe in your ass. They’ll make sure the cops put it in the papers that you was just a hobo killed by the moolie hobos you was jerkin’ off for pennies. Yo’ mama gonna curse yer name, Francesco.”
“Sonny-!”
“You can choose now, Francesco,” Sonny said. “Which one is it gonna be?”
Francesco let out a sob, then bit his lip. As he acknowledged his submission and finally gave up the struggle, knowing how this would turn out, his ass unclenched long enough for Tedi to get a second finger in there. Francesco yelped like a puppy in pain.
This time, Tedi didn’t just stick his fingers in to the first knuckle and stopped. He seriously fingered Francesco, ramming his fingers in until he felt resistance, and then just a little bit farther. He liked watching every muscle on Francesco’s body shake and tremble with each thrust of Tedi’s fingers.
“I’ll… take Option One,” Francesco said. “I swear… I’ll do it. I’ll jerk you off.”
“You swear an oath on yo mama’s name?”
“Yes. I swear… on my mother’s name,” Francesco said. “I’ll jerk you all off. I won’t bite down. Just… let me go. Let me move to Vegas.”
“You fuckin’ pansy,” Sonny said.
They all took their dicks out. A part of Tedi wished he’d get to jerk them all off, but he would rather ram Francesco. He had to move a box off the shelf to use as a stool in order to get his crotch lined up with Francesco’s ass. As he did, the other five jabbed their limp dicks into Francesco’s mouth, one after another.
Francesco gagged and retched so loudly Tedi wondered if it was audible outside this closet. He choked, sputtering as he spat onto the ground. Each of them had thick, long uncut cocks, which they seemed to have trouble getting hard at first.
They flopped their dicks against his face, like kids who had never gotten dome. But as they took turns forcing their dicks down his spasming throat, jousting nervously atop his face, they became more and more confident, and they egged each other on.
La bocca è la mia figa!
Tedi had no such difficulty, his dick was already hard even though he hadn’t touched it yet. He rammed his two fingers in and out of Francesco’s ass, while his free hand stroked the writhing muscles of his back through his tuxedo. Then he rammed a third finger in, ignoring the resistance he felt.
A ear-piercing scream rang out, and Francesco’s body burst out with sweat all at once. Tedi laughed along with the other mafioso, who looked away as their dicks got hard. They had all gangbanged whores before, and they all knew they had each let Tedi jerk them off, but they had never had their dicks out like this, with each other and without a woman in the room.
With Francesco bent awkwardly over the plain wooden chair — which loudly rocked as he struggled — Tedi had to climb on top of him to really get his dick in. He pulled his three fingers out and plunged in, his toes gripping the side of the chair as he crouched over Francesco’s bare ass.
The position was awkward for Tedi (and, of course, Francesco), but that didn’t detract from the arousal he felt. He even used Baldo’s shaved head for support as Baldo waited for his turn on Francesco’s mouth.
Costringerlo a soffocare, Baldo!
Tedi shuddered as intense pleasure rolled through him. The curly black hairs of Francesco’s ass were a tangle he had to push through, and he felt a few hairs rip out as he went. That must have sent another layer of pain through Francesco’s body which rippled as he struggled.
Frankie was a heavily tattooed thug, who normally wore his pants slung low and a backwards baseball cap, speaking in a black accent. He was Italian but he didn’t always act that way, which was something the others made fun of him for. But now he spoke Italian as he violently throated Francesco. It was he who came first, pistoning his dick deep into Francesco’s throat and laughing when he choked up copious spit and bile onto the closet floor.
Take it bitch, you fuckin’ snitch! Choke on that shit! Here, open that mouth up so I can spit in it some more…
The smell of cum filled the air before Tedi realized Frankie was actually finishing. Then he saw the pearly white stuff dripping from Francesco’s mouth, collecting in a puddle on the floor. Some of it splashed on Joey’s fine dress shoes, which he made Francesco lick clean. Frankie sighed breathed heavily, wiping his cummy cockshaft off on Francesco’s face.
“Lick that nut off my shoes, bitch,” Joey said. He smiled as Francesco gagged but did as he was told. His tongue haltingly caressed the expensive Italian leather shoes Joey wore, and he managed, with great difficulty, to force himself to lick the entirety of both shoes.
Mi permetta di usare quella gola, paisano!
As the others continued taking turns on Francesco’s throat, Tedi borrowed the knife from Sonny. He wanted to see Francesco’s bare muscular back, so he sliced through the tuxedo jacket, shirt and the dingy wifebeater he wore underneath.
“You couldn’t even put on a clean t-shirt for my wedding?” Sonny asked when he saw the undershirt. “You worthless sac of shit!” He slapped Francesco’s spit and cum-covered face, uncaring of the fact that he got his friends’ fluids on his hands. He just wiped his fingers off on Francesco’s face.
The more violently they went after Francesco’s throat, the more Francesco choked, the more they made each other laugh and the more comfortable they got shoving their dicks against each other. They tried to make him jerk all five dicks at one — which was obviously impossible, but they tried, ignoring the semeny residue that smeared between all five cocks.
Sonny was the one who rammed Francesco’s mouth most delicately. He didn’t want to get stains on his nice slacks, so he angled his body away the best he could. He gripped Francesco’s hair as he reached his own orgasm.
Tedi’s fingers massaged Francesco’s broad shoulder muscles. He had a Jesus tattoo over his left shoulder and an Italian flag beneath that. Tedi kissed them both as he pounded his dick into Francesco’s ass. The size difference between them meant that Tedi had to really hold on tight or slip off, especially as Francesco became so sweaty his back and ass were slippery. Tedi clutched and clawed at his beefy back.
When he shot his load, Sonny held onto Francesco by the ear. He slammed his dick in and out quickly, laughing as Francesco choked on each thrust. His choking turned into loud retching when Sonny shot a load right down his throat.
Assaggiare il mio sperma! Does it taste like yo’ mama’s pussy?
Tedi’s own orgasm was coming quickly, but he wanted to wait until the others were done. He loved watching their potent muscles ripple beneath their tuxedos, sweat beading on their tense faces as their orgasms rolled over their bodies. He could sense their nervous anxiety — none of them had ever cum like this; they all talked about how they would take a bitch if they were in prison, that had come up during the bachelor party, but this was the first time they actually had to perform without women around. Tedi could tell they were glad they hadn’t been impotent or small-cocked or unable to cum. He slowed down his gyrations, burying his face in Francesco’s back muscles as he flexed his hips, grinding so he hit the sensitive sides of Francesco’s asshole.
Then came Joey, who as usual was too squeamish to really get in there like the others — he hated filth and seemed to very much want to back out. He grumbled, jacking himself off. His face turned red when he finally came, and he stepped forward at just the last moment to spray his load right onto Francesco’s quivering tongue.
Questo è sporco…
Tedi watched as Francesco squealed loudly, his whole body palpably rejected the snotty cumload on his tongue. He sputtered and spat, but most of it clung to his mouth. Before he even could spit or swallow, Baldo pushed his dickhead in.
Baldo had a shaved head. He was short, but thick-bodied, built like a bull, complete with a squashed nose and cauliflower ears, both remnants from his former career as a boxer. Though his head was bald, he was the hairiest one there, and his chest hair poked out from under his tuxedo.
He didn’t seem to care about the cum still stuck to Francesco’s tongue and lips. Baldo plunged his dick in there, watching as his buddies’ cum stuck to the shaft. Baldo smiled and let out a low growl that made the hair on Tedi’s neck stand on edge. He felt Francesco’s asshole clench too, in that moment. It was a menacing growl, Baldo being the only one of the five who really seemed to enjoy Francesco’s mouth.
Tu sei il mio sperma grondaia…
That only left Demetrio, who was nearly done as Baldo pulled away. But first Demetrio made Francesco swallow all the cum in his mouth. He opened his mouth to show its emptiness to Demetrio, who cackled as he shoved his spasming dick in.
Mi permetta di vedere la tua bocca vuota, voglio vedere voi ingoiare tutto!
Francesco’s ass clenched again when Demetrio’s dick spewed cum down his throat. Francesco sputtered, his face turning brighter red as lack of oxygen joined the humiliation that already ruddened his features. His asshole remained clenched tightly as all five guys flopped their limp dicks on his face, making him smell their balls and lick the remnants of cum from their piss-slits.
It was the sight of that that sent Tedi over the edge. He lay atop Francesco’s sweat-covered body, clutching his muscles, his hair and the remnants of his tuxedo. He flexed his hips over and over, rejoicing in the tightness of Francesco’s ass, which he knew he was wrecking — if Francesco had relaxed his asshole, it would have hurt less, but Tedi knew from experience that his involuntary clenching made the pain worse, made the ache last for days afterward and ruined his sphincter. Francesco was always going to feel like a loose slut if anyone ever touched his asshole again.
Francesco sobbed, begging his former friends to believe his innocence, though he didn’t sound totally credible — even Tedi, who didn’t really know what was happening, thought he sounded like he knew he was caught. Tedi sighed, nibbling on the Italian flag tattoo over Francesco’s back, as his orgasm rocketed up his spine. It was an incredible climax, and it made Tedi shake back and forth like he was having a seizure. He grunted, losing his twinky delicacy.
He jabbed his dick in and held it there while the first wads of cum sprayed inside Francesco, who screamed and squirmed. There was a loud shattering sound, and then pain erupted in Tedi.
He was on the ground. It all happened so fast that Tedi had no idea what was going on at first. He lay there as he drained his nuts into Francesco’s straining ass, and Tedi realized that the chair had broken — Francesco was strong enough he had pulled hard and shattered the wooden legs of the chair.
When he fell, Francesco’s arms were beneath his chest, and his limbs were still tied to each other. So all he could do was writhe painfully on the rubble, while Tedi clung to his back and filled him up with his seed. He nibbled on Francesco’s back flesh.
Damn, Tedi, ti sei scopato lui così forte che lo ha rotto!
He lay there, enjoying the undulations of Francesco’s muscles and the clenching of his ass as Tedi’s dick grew limp inside him. Francesco roared his frustration anew, as though he thought he should be able to escape now that he had broken the chair. But he was still tied up, and now he was in pain because had fallen as well as because he had a dick in his ass.
His asshole quivered when Tedi finally pulled out. The others tucked their dicks away in their tuxedo pants, and Sonny lightly smacked Francesco on the cheeks. Francesco blubbered an apology — he wasn’t making clear words, but it sounded like he was finally admitting he was guilty.
“Thank you for being honest, finally,” Sonny said. He put the nasty old pair of briefs back in Francesco’s mouth, leaving him there on the floor with a bare ass and back, his body and mouth covered in cum. “We’re gonna go finish out this reception. I gotta see my beautiful bride. There’s a bus to Las Vegas at midnight. These guys’ll make sure you’re on it, Francesco,” Sonny said. He spat another big ball of spit onto Francesco’s face. “If we ever see you in New York again, I’ll wreck you myself, hairy ass or no, and then I let the blacks kill you. Got it?”
“Yes, Sonny.”
“Thank me for letting you do all this instead of just killing you, which is what my father wanted, by the way,” Sonny said.
“Thank you, Sonny,” Francesco said through his tears. His massive muscles were loose and slack now, like he had lost his manhood and could no longer use his strength.
“You’re welcome, rat,” Sonny said.
Tedi let out a cruel smile and a feminine giggle. “Sonny… is it okay if I stay here with him? I’ll… take care of his ass. I promise I won’t untie him.”
Sonny had a disgusted sneer on his face, but he nodded. “Yeah, sure. Do whatever you want with him. Frankie, you stay outside the closet to make sure Francesco doesn’t get away. The rest of you, come with me. We got a reception to finish.”
And they all walked out the door, leaving Tedi alone with a quivering pile of muscle.

The Surfer

Avery is at it again, this time on a legendary Southern California beach. That’s where he runs into a hunky surfer jock in need of some dollars, and Avery is all too eager to help out.

Can this surfer jock handle Avery’s generosity?

Read it now as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here now!

San Guapo Beach in the summer of 1972 was warm, even by SoCal standards, and Avery enjoyed looking at all the college and military guys out there doing push-ups and play-fighting each other for the benefit of the flirty bikini babes who flocked there. This particular beach had more hot girls than you could shake a dick at. There would not be any alphas desperate to bust a nut here. But Avery enjoyed a man with hair you could run your fingers through. It didn’t have to be long hair, just thick and luxurious and maybe just a little bit greasy.
That described a lot of guys here — virtually all the guys who weren’t military had a full head of hair, and there weren’t many hats to be seen either, probably since it was an overcast day.
There was a surfer who drew Avery’s gaze.
He was hot, tall, dark-haired and well-tanned, with perfectly greasy blond hair. He slicked it back as he rose out of the water. His chest was hairy tooy. The surfer held his board in hand as he headed away from the water, sandals thwacking on the sand with every step.
Avery was just about to proposition him when a girl appeared. “You didn’t wait up for me!” she squealed and giggled.
“You gotta keep up, baby,” he said, kissing her on the lips. Avery stared at his crotch and saw his dick twitch when his tongue rammed into her mouth, and one of his hands gripped her breast.
For just a moment, it looked like they were going to have sex right here on the sidewalk. Then they just continued on. Avery was disappointed. They watched the handsome man’s ass sway as he walked down the street.
He sat there watching the surfers. Most of them wore swimwear, mere briefs that left little to the imagination. Avery could see their cocks outlined, jiggling as they rode the waves up and down. Many of them had treasure trails leading down to their crotches such that their belly hair and pubic hair intermingled, and those bathing suits were not large enough to cover the part that was clearly pubic.
Not that Avery was complaining.
But there were so many hot guys, that wasn’t just in his head. (Lookitthat Marine-type learning how to swim for the first time, his little hippie girlfriend giggling as he heaves onto the board! His muscles rippled like a sac of snakes.) The Marine’s dog tags jingled, and he stole a quick kiss from the girl, who squealed and pulled away then kissed him back.
They stood there in waist-deep water, locking lips. Avery couldn’t see either person’s hands, but he had a guess where they were.
Avery rented a motel room. With all these guys around, he could surely find the rough trade he sought. There were just too many pretty girls in southern California, he thought, it was ridiculous!
There was a surf shop a little ways down the promenade, and Avery headed that way. A Hang Twelve Surfer Joint, it was called. He thought he might be able to nab one of the clerks. They were probably young, alpha as hell and ready to bust a nut, and, of course, they wouldn’t have a girlfriend nearby when they were at work.
But there was only one clerk, and he was a little old for Avery’s taste. That was disappointing. On the other hand, the clerk was busy with a customer who was one of the handsomest surfers Avery had ever seen. He could tell Avery liked him too because of the way Avery’s eyes bulged out when he saw him.
“I don’t know what to tell you, Kyle, man, Mr. Winthrop will come down on me so hard if I sell it to you at that price-“
“Man, you told me to bring back the money!” Kyle pleaded. He had long, tangled blond hair and a surfer’s build, with broad shoulders and a sun-bronzed frame. He wore shorts and a sleeveless tee shirt that bared his biceps and the soft curly blond hairs that sprouted up and down his arms. He had a vaguely southern accent — a Bakersfield accent — and a deep voice. “You said to bring back another twenty dollars-“
“And then you took three days to do it, Kyle! That was the sale price. I gotta account for this shit in the ledger, man,” the clerk said. He looked at Avery and pointedly asked, “can I help you, sir?”
“I wanted to talk to him,” Avery said. He motioned to Kyle, who took a moment to notice — he was biting his lip, flexing his arms and trying to think of a way to make some extra money. Kyle furrowed his brow. He had deep dimples and brilliant blue eyes that made Avery swoon.
“… Oh? What? Me?” Kyle blushed. “What?”
“I just wanted to ask you a question,” Avery said.
Kyle hesitated.
“It’s a private question.”
Kyle looked at the clerk, who just shrugged. He gestured towards the sidewalk. Kyle scowled back at him. “Man…” He looked at Avery, then at Avery. “Who the hell are you?”
“My name is Avery. I’m from out of town.”
“Oh… like… oh…” Kyle looked like a bit of a dumbie, Avery thought, which was cute. His eyes stared blankly as Avery led him just outside the shop, to a bench near the sidewalk.
“I wanted to say that I’ll buy the surfboard for you. I’ll buy whatever surfboard you want,” Avery said. “If you cornhole me.”
Kyle’s eyes opened wide. He chuckled, nervously at first, then for real, then nervously again. He ran his fingers through his tangled mane of blond hair. “Ah… Oh…” He paused. Then he said it again, “ah… oh!” like he had just figured out what Avery said and that it wasn’t a joke.
“No one will ever know,” Avery said. He teased like he was going to grab Kyle’s cock in his board shorts, but he stopped short. Kyle scooted away.
Then Kyle reconsidered and scooted back. He blushed again, a deep crimson that contrasted well with his suntanned skin. “How’d you know my name?”
“The clerk said it.”
“Oh. Right…” He chuckled at himself. “Uh… So you’ll like… jerk me off and shit?” He paused and thought about it, looking around to make sure no one overheard. He took a deep breath. “If you try to go for my ass or anything, dude, I swear I’ll kick your ass. Totally.”
“No problem. I’ve got a motel room,” Avery said. “And I’ll pay for the surfboard when we’re done.”
They went to the motel, Kyle awkwardly silent because Avery wrapped an arm around his well-muscled back. Kyle was pretty sure no one saw him, so he breathed a sigh of relief when they actually made it into the motel room. There was one window in the small one-bed room, which opened on the beach until Avery drew the curtains closed. He left a small crack so Avery could watch through the window.
Kyle gulped. He ran his fingers through his thick tangle of blond hair, which stretched to his broad shoulders. He had never done anything like this, and wasn’t even really sure how to do it. He knew how to get a girl to give up the pussy — sort of, it wasn’t like he was an expert casanova or anything — but what was he supposed to do with a man?
But he needed a surfboard.
Aside from being a hobby he considered very important in his life, Kyle surfed to impress the girl he currently liked, Marsha, who would definitely lose interest if he had no surfboard any longer. He was glad to be in a motel room where no one could see him, but he was nervous too because he could hear people outside on the beach, playing, laughing, girls laughing at guys who were surfing — it felt like they were right in the room, laughing at him.
“You gotta take your shorts off,” Avery said. He rubbed Kyle’s shoulders, but that just seemed to make Kyle tense up more, so Avery stopped. He did run his fingers through that glorious hair. He kissed Kyle on the back of the neck.
“Shit… okay…” Kyle said. He blushed. He lowered his board shorts gingerly, pausing when Avery came around to his front and sink to his knees between Kyle’s legs. A few of his pale blond pubic hairs were visible, but he didn’t take his dick out yet. He wore old-fashioned tighty-whiteys beneath his board shorts.
He dove for it without even suggesting Kyle remove them. Avery wasn’t an underwear fetishist by any means, but Kyle’s briefs were pure white and smelled strongly of his scent. They made Avery’s dick so hard it ached.
Kyle looked both a bit horrified and relieved, like a part of him hoped Avery would just be satisfied by smelling his underwear. But instead he pulled Kyle’s briefs down, making Kyle gasp as his cock popped free. Avery rubbed Kyle’s limp dick over his face.
“What’s wrong?”
“Dude… This is weird…” Kyle said. He whispered and looked towards the window. He could just barely see a pretty blonde girl in a bikini out there. He knew she couldn’t see in, but still, it was unnerving and Kyle pulled the curtain closed more.
“I’m just jerking you off, it’s exactly like a blowjob. There’s no difference. I don’t even have any beard hairs, see?” He displayed his perfectly smooth cheeks and chin.
“Still…”
“Well, it’s up to you. But if you say yes, no one will ever know,” Avery said. He backed up, no longer touching Kyle’s dick — which twitched a little — just staring at it as he spoke. “And if you say yes, tomorrow I’ll track you down on the beach, whenever some people are around, and I’ll make sure they all hear as I explain that I bought you the surfboard because you saved my daughter from a rapist. No, not daughter, then the girl you like will think she has competition: my elderly aunt. You saved my elderly aunt from a rapist, so I bought you the surfboard.”
He thought for a moment. His eyes were dull like he didn’t get the plan at first. “Shit, okay!” He paused. “Hey, how did you know there’s a girl I like?”
Avery rolled his eyes. “Just a good guess.” He licked his lips. “C’mon, lemme jerk you off… You already let me play with it a little. I’ll make you feel so good you forget about girls.”
Kyle closed his eyes and nodded. He gulped. “Fine. You better buy me that surfboard, dude.”
“I will. Ssssh, baby, it’s okay, it won’t hurt at all,” Avery said. He popped his cock into his mouth and giggled at the shocked expression on Kyle’s face, his eyes still closed. Avery began swallowing it as deep as he could, wanting to immediately impress Kyle with his deep-throating.
Outside the squawking of seagulls and the giggles of pretty girls filled the air, and Kyle tried to focus on that. He was both embarrassed that this was happening and that his dick hardened up right away, turning into a stiff rod that filled up Avery’s mouth.
He sucked in his breath. Kyle couldn’t believe how good this felt. If it was a girl, he’d say things like “I like you so much, baby…” but he didn’t want to say that now. He didn’t want to lead this freak on. He touched Avery’s head to drill his dick in but then thought that would seem almost romantic.
“Ah, shit, dude… You’re really doing it…” Now that it had started, Kyle thought it didn’t feel as weird as he thought it would. It really was just like a girl, but maybe even better. He bit his lip hard as Avery swallowed him all the way to the root, until his face nuzzled Kyle’s unkempt pubic hair.
It wasn’t the first time Kyle had done something like this, but he wasn’t sure the first time counted. It was last year, when Kyle was just barely nineteen. He and his male friends Scumdog and Pony had spent a day surfing and talking to girls on the beach.
They’d very nearly gotten a girl to give them all blowjobs. They tried to pretend like it was no big deal, like she should just do it as a big practical joke. She was definitely thinking about it. She blushed and giggled and said “oh my god!” a lot.
But in the end, she had said no because Pony farted and Kyle and Scumdog both laughed; that was immature, she thought. She had walked away in a huff. Kyle was standing there on the beach with a hardon in those tiny tight swimming shorts, next to Scumdog and Pony. It was Scumdog who first noticed everyone’s boners. He tried to hit Kyle’s with his like they were jousting, which made Kyle blush. Scumdog later acknowledged that his boner wouldn’t go away, that he needed to get a nut off. Scumdog suggested they circlejerk instead.
But where to go on a crowded beach? They couldn’t just jack off here. So instead they had gone to the beach showerhouse. At the time, Kyle had been nervous. He assumed they were going to take turns jacking off in the little back area, with the others making sure no one came in.
All kinds of people came into those beach showerhouses, the kind with no stalls or anything, just bare showerheads spraying fresh water to clear the salt off people’s body. It wasn’t expected that people would be naked in there at all. Only weirdos took their shorts off in those places.
But no one was in there then, not in the back where no one ever went. Kyle still had a hardon when he got in there with Scumdog and Pony, all of them walking stiffly and continually adjusting themselves to hide the boners. The more they thought about it, the less they could stop their cocks from throbbing and even leaking a few drops of precum just because they had to keep moving their swim trunks around.
“I’m going first, you keep a lookout-“
“No way-!”
“It was my idea, you keep a lookout.”
“Hey, you know what… Hey you know what’s not pervy, like for real, not?” Scumdog said. He was the tough one of the three, his older brother in prison and his father on parole. He had tattoos and a shaved head. He leaned his surfboard against a wall in a way that provided some protection from witnesses. “It’s for real, they do it in prison. Ya gotta be a real man. You pansies in? Oh are you worried you’re gonna turn pansy too?”
And so that was how the circlejerk had started. Kyle was nervous now thinking about it as his dick got slurped on by Avery.
He grunted. This felt better than he thought possible. No girl had ever give him a blowjob him like this. Kyle gasped. He didn’t want to sound like he liked this, that would be too pervy.
Precum flowed down Avery’s throat. Kyle was so horny it hurt. He gripped the sheets of the hotel bed beneath him, holding on tightly enough to pull the sheets off the mattress.
Back in that communal shower, Kyle thought — he was unable to stop thinking about it now, after he had spent the last year trying to pretend it hadn’t happened — he had felt tougher when it was all over, like Scumdog was right, only tough guys did it.
Pony’s dick had been big and veiny and it felt so weird in Kyle’s hand. Not bad, just weird. Kyle wondered why it felt different. Was it all in his head? Pony’s dick had been hard like stone, but Kyle thought his always had some fleshiness to it, even when it was totally erect.
Scumdog had touched Kyle’s nipples too, and Pony’s. He said guys just needed to blow their wad sometimes, so they could concentrate. He said girls didn’t like desperate guys.
Kyle’s heart had raced the whole time, as he endured Scumdog’s big meaty hands stroking him off — Pony was tall and thick all over. It was worse than masturbating, he thought, but the excitement made it somehow hotter. He felt like Pony was stroking less effectively yet his hand was built better, so it stroked whole different parts of his dick that he had never felt before.
He got that same feeling now. “Damn, dude, you do that… like… crazy… oh, shit!” Kyle flailed on the bed, the precum flowing like water from a hose down Avery’s throat.
A gasp escaped from Kyle’s mouth, so strangled and choked that it sounded painful. His surf-toned muscles all flexed at once, pecs bouncing. Avery reached up to tweak his nipples, surprised at how extreme Kyle’s reaction was — Kyle was both aroused and dismayed because it reminded him of that circlejerk.
Kyle made eye contact with Avery, who was balls-deep on his cock. Kyle blushed again — or maybe still, Avery couldn’t tell — he didn’t even know someone could deep-throat an entire cock. Kyle, the poor baby, didn’t even realize yet that his dick was much bigger than average. He just thought deep-throating was impossible, until he saw Avery swallowing him to the root. He hadn’t noticed that during the circlejerk because he’d been focused on not getting cummed on.
That hadn’t worked. He’d gotten Pony’s cum on his hand and a bit on his thigh then. He’d bugged out when it happened as though he was going to punch Scumdog.
“Ya got your nut on me, dude!” Kyle held his hand up like it was radioactive.
But Scumdog just scoffed. “You ain’t some squeamish wuss, right? It’s just a little cum. If we all got that slut to suck us off, we’d probably touch dicks, right, bro? We’d probably cum all over each other’s shafts. That’s how it works for real men, y’know, not the stuffed-shirt crowd, but real men. They blow their wad wherever they can. You wanna cry about it? Go back to Feaga Spit Beach.” He sneered — Feaga Spit Beach was the private, exclusive beach where there was no surfing or virtually any other activity allowed.
“Yeah, dude. Yeah. Right,” Kyle had said then, as though he already agreed with all that. He just wiped his hand off on the wall. It still felt cummy though, and he had to hold down a feeling of panic. “I was just — Pony looked like he was gonna cry like a little baby, I thought he was freaking out about it.”
“No I wasn’t-!”
Scumdog shoved him then. That was the first naked wrestling match Kyle had ever participated in. He had no idea that, if he had said it out loud, Avery would demand a play-by-play as he stroked and slurped on Kyle’s cock to completion. His half-hard, cum-dripping cock had flopped all over Scumdog’s thighs, and their dicks even touched.
He didn’t want to even slightly touch dicks when they were jacking off, but Kyle realized only later that he hadn’t had any anxiety about it when they wrestled. That was despite him feeling every inch of Scumdog’s cock sliding all over his body, leaving a trail of cum because Scumdog had just cum as well. He didn’t even realize he had been covered in Scumdog’s cum (and probably Pony’s somehow too) until later. Wrestling was macho enough to make him forget about such things, and it wouldn’t do to act like some prissy little bitch whining about a spider, Kyle thought.
They were in the shower anyway at the time. They rinsed off right afterwards, and Kyle, thought with swelling pride, he had won the match even though Scumdog was larger. He put Scumdog in a chokehold, his broad chest encompassing Scumdog’s back as Scumdog turned red and cried uncle.
“Say you’re the wuss!” Kyle said.
“Okay, yeah, I’m the wuss,” Scumdog had said through his gasps and squirming between Kyle’s bicep and forearm. He blushed as Pony and Kyle laughed at him.
That was an alpha enough ending that it made Kyle feel better about it. He wasn’t going to tell anyone though, not even Avery. Now that he was getting dome from Avery, Kyle was glad he had done that circlejerk too. That made it easier now.
“Yeah, dude, man, you got… shit…” Kyle felt too good to focus on saying anything. His spine shuddered as a wave of pleasure wracked his body. It was still nerve-wracking, but he could admit it (to himself) it was the best dome of his life. Plus, he thought with a big grin, he was going to get a brand-new surfboard out of it.
His hands were on Avery’s scalp, guiding him up and down. That had felt too weird a moment ago because it reminded Kyle he was with a man. He could feel Avery’s short hair.
But now that he was on the verge of orgasm, that seemed a lot less important. Pleasure shot up his spine, and Kyle bit his lip. He couldn’t help but cry out. He hoped no one out on the beach could hear him moaning.
He drilled in deeper. No girl had ever deep-throated him like this, or at all, really, they mostly just played with it and licked the tip. Avery’s throat was tight and warm and wet and it felt so good Kyle couldn’t even tell when his orgasm began.
His face turned ruddy like sunburn, his tanned skin turning reddish. Avery blushed too, his lungs crying out for air. Kyle flexed his muscles, holding onto Avery as his balls throbbed against the skin of Avery’s chin.
“Shit!” Kyle shouted as loud as he could.
Avery reached up to grab his pecs and his nipples. Kyle didn’t have huge pectoral muscles, but they were firm and bulged a little, especially now that he was orgasming. Avery loved feeling a man’s muscles mid-orgasm. Even men who weren’t very strong always felt muscular when they were shooting a load down Avery’s throat.
It kept on going, flowing, more and more, salty and sweet cum coating Avery’s throat. Kyle was young enough to shoot a massive wad that filled up Avery’s belly. It sat hotly in his stomach, and still it flowed.
“Goddamn…” Kyle sighed. He’d gotten girls to swallow cum before — twice — but they never let him just cum right down their throat like this. This was amazing.
At last he couldn’t take it anymore, the pleasure was so intense he had to pull out. Kyle removed his dick with a loud, moist gasp, the feelings coursing through him so intense a few drops of drool dripped onto Avery’s face.
“Shit, man, goddamn,” Kyle said. Now that he was post-orgasmic, his face was an even brighter red than before. His whole body undulated. He gagged a little when he saw Avery licking a hairy trail up from his crotch to his chest.
Avery sucked the sweat off Kyle’s chest, and he suckled on each nipple, catching a glimpse of Avery’s face outside the hotel room, still peering in. Kyle bristled and straightened his back, but didn’t say anything. Avery stroked his muscles with both hands. He came close enough that his dick touched Kyle.
“Hey, shush…” Avery said. He kissed Kyle on the neck, but Kyle just stood there. Avery had to move his long, tangled blond hair out of the way first.
Then Avery touched his erect cock to Kyle’s rapidly limpening manhood. Kyle sucked in his breath but just bit his lip. He frowned. Was it too weird to touch dicks? He and Pony and Scumdog had touched dicks, at least sort of. But was it weirder to touch dicks with a stranger rather than a buddy? Kyle was still pondering that as he nodded — he was too tired to give a crap anyway.
“Don’t worry, we’re just touching dicks,” Avery said. “I’m gonna buy you the best surfboard in that shop, dude. You want a hot dog too? I’ll buy you a hot dog from that cart out there.”
Kyle nodded just barely enough for Avery to see. His eyes were closed tight and he stood stiffly, sweat dripping down his broad shoulders. Avery sucked that sweat off too.
Their dicks jousted together. Avery’s was big and throbbing, veiny, hard, pulsating beneath his grasp. Kyle’s was the same size but soft right now, still a little spongy because he had already cum.
Avery didn’t mind that at all. Avery loved jousting with post-orgasmic alphas. Kyle didn’t really think about it. He was nervous about it happening, but after circlejerking and naked shower-wrestling with his buddies and then getting jerked off by this weirdo from the beach, a little jousting seemed unimportant.
Then he felt Avery’s orgasm through his cock. Avery stroked both shafts together, basically using Kyle’s dick to jack himself off. Kyle raised his arms above his head so he didn’t have to touch Avery any more than he needed to. He opened his eyes just in time to gag at the sight of Avery’s dick pulsating.
“Uh…”
Cum sprayed onto Kyle’s crotch and shaft, coating his pubic hair in it. Kyle’s heart raced and he held his breath as he felt jet after jet of creamy cum coat his cock. It dripped down his shaft and onto his balls.
Then Avery dropped to his knees and stuck his tongue out. He licked the shaft and balls and his thighs, chasing down every drop of cum. Avery giggled at the sight of his thick pubic bush matted to his crotch. He sucked all those hairs clean.
Kyle had never experienced a post-orgasmic bout of pleasure like this. It felt so good it hurt, especially since it was combined with embarrassment and humiliation. He still felt dirty. That just reminded him of the surfboard and his beloved Marsha — if he got this dome, the surfboard and then Marsha out of it, that was a good deal, he thought. Not that he was ever going to tell anyone about it.
At last it was over. Kyle stepped away and sighed. He reached for his board shorts and sandals. “Goddamn.” He was relieved. He sighed. “That was cool.” He raced to assuage his masculinity. “I mean, I’ve had better blowjobs from girls and all. But that was cool. It was… cool. It was… I mean… It was groovy.”
Avery smiled as he wiped himself off, exhausted but excited to have finally landed the surfer of his dreams. Kyle nervously babbled. He had only a pair of shorts and sandals to put on, but somehow it took Kyle more time than it took Avery to get fully dressed.
“You’re gonna buy the Nimbus 9, right? That’s the one I want.”
“Of course, baby,” Avery said. He wrapped one arm around Kyle’s waist. His other hand teased Kyle’s six-pack. “Whatever you want.”