scenes featuring rimjobs – Mansploitation

The Raunchy Roughneck

Rob can have his pick of roughnecks, but he knows which one he wants — the filthiest, raunchiest one around! His name is Tex, he’s hairy, sweaty and stinks like man! Can Rob drink his fill of this raunchy roughneck?!

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Read the whole thing here!

When Rob arranged for the encounter at Oil Rig Delta-69, an oil rig in a remote part of North Dakota, he was deliberately vague about what he wanted. Roughnecks were one of the easiest kind of guys to mess with — the only hard part was getting to them at their workplaces. When they were off-duty, they plowed into women, no matter how ugly or skanky. But when they were stuck on oil rigs far from civilization, Rob could have his pick — which was a fine way to spend his summer vacation. There was a tradition on oil rigs — you gotta get a nut off wherever you can when the nearest woman is a hundred miles away was how it was put to Rob. That was a tradition he could get behind (or more often, in front of).
The locker room stank to high heaven, which meant Rob was rock-hard from the moment he walked in. He loved the smell of sweat and toil, filth, grease and raunchy bodyjuice. The men were loud and boisterous. He had insisted he get his pick before anyone showered, so the scent was freshly rank.
Space was at a premium, and the locker room was crowded. About fifty hairy, unkempt men were crammed in, asses to elbows. When they saw Rob, everyone fell silent. He squeezed through the crowd as someone began to hoot.
“Who you gonna pick?”
“Pick Albert, he got a big ol’ schlong-“
“Fuck you, man, shut yer mouth.”
But Rob knew whom he wanted. He just wanted to take his time. He brushed past all of the men, most of whom were naked, or at least stripped to their boxers. He snaked his tongue into the nooks and crannies of their bodies, teasing bits of armpit sweat, biceps, and even a lick of one plump young hairy buttcheek.
“Albert’s over there-“
“He’s the one you want, I’m sure-“
“Shut the fuck up!”
Albert was indeed very handsome. Rob went over to him — it was clear which one he was because he was blushing and insisting Rob not choose him. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with a jutting jaw, the kind of guy who seems handsome until you really look at him, a bit too tall and scruffy for most women (though Rob suspected that, when he cleaned himself up and went out on the town, he was very successful with chicks). He had a deep voice, a hairy chest and a grizzled chin. Rob licked his sweat-soaked pecs, prompting a torrent of laughter.
The other guys all suggested Albert because he was the most classically handsome, the one that girls had hit on the most in the past. Rob wouldn’t have turned him down.
But Rob had promised to pay for all of these men to have a wild weekend off, as long as he got his taste of whichever one he chose. He did not want Albert. Rob liked a particular kind of man. Albert was entirely too handsome.
He had known who his target was before he ever got to North Dakota. He wanted Joseph, the one they called Tex. He sucked on Albert’s nipple, his pec nervously throbbing and flexing in Rob’s mouth, while everyone else sighed with relief, thinking they had not been chosen. Albert groaned — he had probably suspected he’d be the one picked. He endured Rob’s tongue on his chest and belly like a man letting his doctor palpate him, just getting through it and rolling his eyes until it was done.
But then Rob pointed to Tex, who was shocked at the sudden reversal. Everyone laughed like it was a joke.
Tex was not classically handsome at all — he was chubby, craggy, rough, grizzled, with a big nasty scar running across his neck like he had been nearly decapitated once. He was also very hairy, especially on his back, a thick nest of sweat-matted kinky black hairs extending down to his ass. That was what Rob wanted.
Tex’s hefty body and hairy back were exactly what he had been searching for. Tex blushed — he was very tan, so it wasn’t real obvious at first, but when the other roughnecks realized that Rob wanted Tex instead of Albert, they clapped and hooted and slapped Tex’s ass until he barked at them to stop. Soon Tex was beet-red even through his tan skin.
“Hey, why you wanna service him? He’s a hairy motherfucker!”
“Yeah, I thought he’d be last on ya list.”
“You must like it dirty.”
Rob smiled. He kissed Tex right on that scar on his neck. He bristled a bit but allowed it. His whole body was stiff like a robot. Rob rammed his hand down Tex’s paper-thin white boxers — were they prison-issue boxers? They looked like it, Rob thought — and grabbed his dick. It was throbbingly huge, and it perked up like he was very horny, or maybe he just liked attention.
“I like hairy backs,” Rob said. He turned Tex around and licked all the way up from the small of his back to his shoulders — as far as Rob could reach on his short legs. He snuffled down every drop of sweat he found. There was so much hair that Rob’s tongue got stuck there, and had to push through the fur. Tex bent his knees a bit, sticking his ass out and lowering his back enough that Rob could run his tongue all the way up to his neck. The hair continued up his spine that whole way.
The roughnecks cheered as Tex snorted and chuckled. He sort of dance a little on his feet, like an athlete warming up before practice. Rob kept a tight hold on his limp dick the whole time.
They all thought this was hilarious because Rob was not alone in servicing their alpha male manhoods. A handful of slim, effeminate man came by from time to time doing the same thing. Sometimes they offered money, sometimes they wanted to film it, sometimes they brought women along as a teaser — the roughnecks liked that last option the best — but they never went straight to Tex. A few were willing to service any man, no matter how hairy and stinky, but most had restrictions. Tex failed those restrictions. He was too hairy and not habitual enough about showering. Those prettyboys with mouths like silk only wanted the handsome men with six-packs and smooth skin, or smooth for a roughneck anyway: men like Albert.
Not Tex. Nobody ever came to service Tex. Nobody ever wanted to take Tex’s pictures for a “physique magazine that would only be sold in Prague”.
“Get down on all fours so I can lick your butthole,” Rob said, blushing. He had to whisper it to Tex, who cheered along with the others even though he looked mortified. He got down on all fours and covered his head, so his face was near the shower drain, just in front of the bank of lockers against one wall.
Rob planted his face right down there in the crack of Tex’s ass. It was so hairy that Rob’s tongue couldn’t even get to the hole. He encountered a thick tangle of greasy hair, and Rob began by teasing it clear with his tongue.
“Ah, fuck…” Tex moaned. He covered his face and howled into the floor like a sad wolf. The sound boomed and echoed in the metal-walled showering area.
“He’s lickin’ ya ass like a inside-out lollipop…”
“Damn, Tex, I ain’t nevuh realize how hairy you is. You like a sasquatch.”
“No wonder girls ain’t into ya, man, you gotta shave!”
“Fuck you!” Tex roared. He lifted his head up to reveal a bright red face. His scraggly beard hairs quivered. “Y’all wanna shave my back and my ass?”
“No way!”
“Fuck that shit, I ain’t goin’ near it!”
Tex frowned. “See? I can’t shave it myself,” he said. He groaned and looked behind himself at Rob’s face disappearing between his cheeks. He gagged at the sight. “Aw, fuck I feel it! I feel it, man! His tongue is in my ass, man, I feel it!”
He didn’t actually feel it — Rob didn’t say anything, but Tex was mistaken: Rob had made contact with his asshole, but hadn’t actually gotten his tongue in there yet. He just teased the rim and sucked up all the sweat and grime from his crack.
“He got his tongue in there, man!” Tex said. He laughed nervously, a deep belly laugh that made his asshole flare and open wide.
Rob used the opportunity to plunge his tongue all the way in through the forest of asshair. He got a burst of stale, stinky musk on his tongue. It made him croon and moan. He had rarely gotten such a delicious asshole, and he was glad — this was already worth the thousand mile trip to this remote section of North Dakota.
“Aw, fuck! Aw, fuck!” Tex looked like he was about ready to cry. He gasped and moaned while his friends hooted and teased him. He stuck his face up in the air. His muscles were all tense, perfectly still except for his ass, which undulated uncontrollably. He rubbed his ass all over Rob’s tongue.
“Holy shit, Tex, you really into that. If you like stickin’ stuff up ya asshole, I got somethin’ you could try.”
“Texans are always into it. Texans love butt-stuff. That’s a fact.”
“Fuck you guys.” Tex’s voice was weak and distracted.
“Damn you nasty, Tex! You smell like mah armpits when I spend too much time around white men!” someone said, prompting a chorus of laughter from the others. The roughneck who said that got down real low and squeezed Tex’s cheeks like a doting grandmother. Tex swatted his hands away.
“Get off me, man.” Tex let out a long, slow growl. He probably intended for it to be menacing, but he was so aroused it just sounded like a seductive moan.
Now that Rob had been lapping at it for a few minutes, Tex’s ass was wide open. Tex cringed and squirmed as Rob’s tongue filled him up. Rob could feel Tex’s spongy prostate, and he teased it, giggling into the man’s hairy asshole when it made Tex shake and gasp.
When Rob reached underneath Tex’s body, between his legs, to grab his dick, Tex chuckled. “Ah, damn, he’s doin’ it, man, he doin’ it… Ah shit, ah shit…”
“You lookin’ pretty nice bent over on all fours, Tex. He got ya asshole all loosened up with that tongue… You wanna stick me in the butt?”
“I will destroy you if you try anythin’, man,” Tex said with a grunt. He lifted his upper body off the ground, groaning as though it hurt to do so with Rob’s tongue in his ass. Tex reached for his friend to punch him, but he twitched and fell back onto his hands and knees as Rob’s tongue rammed into his prostate.
The other roughnecks burst into laughter. They teased the red-faced Tex mercilessly as Tex shuddered and shook. His cock leaked precum into Rob’s fingers, and his hairy ass clenched around Rob’s face. His powerfully muscled body shook as the others whooped and slapped him on the fur-coated booty.
“Gonna ride you like a cowboy, hoss!” said one redneck, a lean and lanky one with a colorful tattoo of a bald eagle on his lower back. He had a big, long dick swaying between his legs. He mounted Tex’s back, just in front of Rob’s face in his ass. He plopped himself on Tex, bare cock and balls landing on Tex’s writhing back muscles, as though he was gonna hump Tex’s spine — which he might very well do, as the men of Oil Rig Delta-69 did get off on each other’s backs and armpits when there were no women or effeminate men around. Nobody did it on Tex’s back cuz of all the hair. Anyway, the bald eagle-tatted redneck on Tex’s back did rub his dick on Tex’s spine as though to hump him, but he didn’t try to get hard.
“Get off me!” Tex yelled. He squirmed and would have thrown the would-be cowboy off his back, but the man just stood. He hesitated there, waiting with his balls resting on Tex’s spine. He cackled until Rob moved his tongue from Tex to the other man’s ass, so quick nobody noticed until it was too late.
He just rammed his tongue in for a second, and the other man blushed a bright red. He danced away so fast he slipped on the wet floor and landed in a pile of roughnecks. Rob giggled, crawled over and threw himself on the same pile.
“Fuck you!”
“Get ya cock off me, bitch!”
This tiny showering area was seemingly made for maybe twenty men — there were fewer than two dozen showerheads. But there were fifty men in here, and they all had tried to stay as far away from the rimjob as possible. So all fifty men were crammed in a space so tight they rubbed up against each other. They didn’t seem to mind too much — that kind of situation happened a lot on oil rigs. But it did mean that, when the one guy darted away and into the crowd of men, he knocked just one or two people over. The whole space was so crowded that it caused a chain reaction, and soon most of the men were in a hairy, muscle-bound pile of flesh.
And that was where Rob went. He knew it wouldn’t last long, and it wouldn’t be as much fun in reality as it seemed in his mind — these kinds of things never really were. The men disentangled themselves pretty quickly, and Rob just stuck his tongue out to lick whatever he could get. That meant he got a lot of dusty elbows and glancing licks, a few brief touches of limp cockmeat, that was about it.
But Rob hardly minded. The best thing about it was not so much that he got to touch lots of men, it was that they pulled away from him so forcefully that, when they stood, they were in an even smaller area. They were virtually dry-humping each other now. Rob saw fat redneck cocks disappearing into hairy asscracks, muscles rubbing on muscles, hands tightened into fists that dangled stiffly at their sides.
That’s how it went on the rig. Rob wished sometimes he could work at one of these places without jerking the men off. That’d be tough to resist — and Rob didn’t have any way of getting hired at an oil rig anyway — but if he did, he’d get to mess around like this, participate in the horseplay. Even as Rob watched, one older man was shooting his nut on a younger roughnecks back, and nobody treated that as a big deal. As long as they were in the shower and could just wipe it off, it was consider a faux pas to even complain.
“I’ll kick ya ass, man, I swear to God. You had best get ya dick off my ass.”
“Jerry’s hard!”
“No, I ain’t man, I just got a big dick.”
“Ah shit that hurt, you accidentally kicked me in the nuts when you knocked into me, man.”
“How do ya know it was an accident, fucker?”
They continued to trash-talk each other. They continued to demand that the others spread out some more, since there was a pretty big area in front of Tex, but no one wanted to get close to the action. The ones who were nearest complained about “splashback”, while the others complained about the smell of roughneck sweat filling up the shower. Tex still blushed a deep beet-red. He had plopped himself down on his ass on the floor. He looked at Rob with a big nervous grin on his face.
“So, uh, you wanna jack me off now?”
“Hell yeah, but only if you promise to let me deep-throat you,” Rob said, prompting a nervous giggle from Tex — even his giggles were so loud and baritone they echoed — and laughing jeers from the others. Rob got down on the ground, laying on his belly.
He plopped Tex’s fat cock in his mouth. It was salty and hot, iron-hard already. It filled up Rob’s throat, prompting a torrent of choked gags as Rob took in as much as he could.
He was a very good deep-throater. Rob was a perfectionist though, so he was disappointed when Tex’s fat cock proved to be too thick to swallow all the way. Rob got just close enough he could feel Tex’s wiry pubic hair on his nose.
“Damn, Tex, he got you deep!”
Tex threw his head back and moaned so violently it sounded like a cry for help. He covered his eyes with one hand. His powerful torso trembled. His muscles all flexed at once.
An explosion of salty precum hit Rob’s tongue. He moaned and swallowed down every drop, gurgling moistly to make enough noise he could be heard over the catcalls and laughter. It was clear no one had ever deep-throated Tex, at least not anywhere’s near as deep as Rob got.
“He get you off better than Mariah!”
“He got better tits than Mariah too! She got them saggy old titties!”
From their continued joking, Rob gathered that Mariah was a prostitute who charged them only five dollars for a behind-the-dumpster blowjob. Every time they had leave in town, they swore they’d get a different girl — a non-whore — and seduce her, and every time, the vast majority of them ended up getting a blowjob from Mariah as she smoked crack behind a dumpster.
A loud, powerful howl emanated from Tex’s throat. It made him wince and blush as his coworkers all fell silent, watching his muscles writhe and squirm beneath Rob’s mouth. His cock was on the verge of orgasm: Rob could feel that in the throbbing of his shaft and the juicy heaviness of his balls, just beginning to rise up in his sac.
Rob pulled off. Tex barked incomprehensibly, his whole body jerking in frustration. Rob licked a trail up his chest, slurping off every drop of sweat. Tex had been sweaty from the day’s work, and he hadn’t showered yet, so there was a layer of dusty, sun-drenched musk, clinging to his hairy flesh. Rob teased every kinky black hair with his tongue, cleaning all the sweat off his pecs, his flat but not six-packed abs, his bulging biceps and firm calves. He even sucked on Tex’s hairy toes.
But beneath the day’s sweat lay a more fresh musk, a rutting smell, like pure, bottled sex itself. That was the sweat generated right now, by Tex’s plowing. It had both a sourness and a sweetness that made Rob crave more. This, he thought, should be bottled and sold. It was intensely salty, with a metallic afternote that reminded Rob of licking the filthy steel floor and walls of the oil rig’s showering area.
Rob plopped his ass down on Tex’s cock. Tex’s eyes were closed, both forearms covering his face. Rob lowered himself on Tex’s cock, grunting when there was a burst of pain. Tex’s dick was thick enough to hurt even for Rob’s well-practiced ass.
“Stick him, Tex! Fuck him! Hell yeah!”
“We ain’t gonna have to settle for Mariah this weekend! We gonna get that big-tittied chick!”
It sounded like they all agreed to fuck the big-breasted prostitute, like they had been planning on saving up to fuck her anyway. They clapped and hooted, cheering Tex on.
Rob timed his orgasm perfectly — he was an expert at doing that. He faced Tex and rode him in the cowgirl position, so when Tex reached his own climax and Rob allowed himself to do so at the same time, Rob sprayed his wad all over Tex’s hairy chest.
Tex gasped and boomed, his callused fingers gripping Rob’s ass and holding him down deep on his cock. Hot cum spurted into Rob, each drop teasing his prostate into releasing more orgasm in Rob’s veins. It flowed through him. He moaned loud enough to be heard over the cheering and jeering of the other rednecks.
“Aaaaaaaaah!” Tex moaned as pleasure wafted through his body. His muscles tensed. A symphony of emotions played out on his face — pleasure from the orgasm, of course, but also disgust at the sight of another man’s cum plastering his chest hair to his skin, humiliation at the realization that his friends were going to tease him for getting cum on his body, pride that his big cock was going to get a nice weekend off for all of his buddies, and a bit of fear like he thought it might hurt to have cum on his chest.
Finally it was all over. Tex gasped and his whole body jerked. His cock twitched within Rob, who threw his head back and howled as his own orgasm continued. The dick in his ass sent wave after wave of white-hot pleasure up his spine. His toes curled, and his fingers tightened into claws that dug at Tex’s meaty chest.
“Alright, weirdo, you got what you paid for,” Tex said, his voice weak and breathless. “You can get off me now.”
“Okay, okay,” Rob said. He sighed. Both he and Tex were sweaty enough to be slippery. When Rob leaned on Tex’s sweat-and-cum-coated chest to support himself, his hands slipped right off. Rob landed with a grunt on Tex’s chest, his cock still in Rob’s ass. Rob moaned as a post-orgasmic burst of bliss hit him, while Tex grunted and shook like a wet dog — it wasn’t clear if he enjoyed his limp dick in Rob’s ass or if his sense of disgust outweighed it, especially now that Rob leaned forward, balls dragging on Tex’s belly, smearing his cumwad all over his hairy torso.
Finally Rob rolled off. They both breathed an intense sigh of relief. The ruddiness drained away from Tex’s face, and he watched with a bemused, faintly disgusted look on his face as Rob licked all the sweat off Tex’s hairy chest.
“Alright, you got it all, man,” Tex said after humoring him for a few minutes. “You’s actin’ like a dog tryin’-a get all the peanut butter off the floor, man. It got all stuck in my chest hair and shit. You ain’t gonna get every drop.”
“Okay,” Rob said, but he didn’t stop licking until Tex physically removed his face from his strapping muscles.
Tex stood up and shook. He smiled wanly at his friends. “Damn… I gotta get a shower, man, all y’all best get out the way. I’m gettin’ a showerhead to myself too, you best believe that.”
“Man… I think we should get blowjobs from Mariah early, man. Barely costs a thing. We’ll be ready to go later on when we get laid-“
“You ain’t nevuh gonna seduce no girl, man.”
“Fuck you, I get plenty of girls. Remember that chunky female wit’ the lips-?”
As though they had forgotten what just happened moments ago, they all ignored Rob. They went straight to their shower. Rob stood there and watched. He stretched his sore legs as he signed the checks written out to each of them — that took a long time even though he had filled out the checks beforehand. He just needed to sign them.
But Rob dragged it out to take as long as possible so he could watch them crowd into the showers. Tex quietly showered by himself, but the others were at two or three to a showerhead — these were not ordinary showerheads, they sprayed in a wide arc, so it was just barely enough space for several men. Rob lazily stroked his limp dick as he watched them bump into each other, show off their muscles and argue about who was going to fuck which prostitute in what order this weekend.
Eventually he was ready to begin the long drive back to Onagnok, the nearest town. But first, he was ready to ride the roughneck train once more…

The Fat Hillbilly

When Bart is invited to a rural spot in the woods, he didn’t realize he’d be servicing the hairiest, fattest and filthiest fillbilly in the state! His name is Piggie, and he loves to get/be/stay as filthy as possible. That’s just fine with Bart, who’s in for another incredible adventure in satisfying plus-size alpha males!

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Bart couldn’t believe where this day was taking him. He had only wanted to buy weed, and now here he was, worshiping the physique of one of the filthiest men he had ever met. His delicate little fingers dug into the hair-choked back muscles of Piggie Clyde, whose long greasy hair flopped onto Bart’s face.
“Oh, boy, yeah, squeeze down on it, boy, yee-haw!” Piggie inhaled deeply of Bart’s breath. He stuck out his tongue as though going to put it in Bart’s mouth, but then he just slowly licked a trail up from Bart’s jaw to his eye. Piggie’s scruffy beard scratched at Bart’s face.
This had all begun when Bart went to his weed dealer, Chapman, a thuggish heavily-tattooed trailer park denizen with a rude demeanor and a gun in his waistband. He had been scary the first few times Bart bought weed off him, but it soon became apparent he was all bark, no bite.
But today, Bart had come over to Smashwood Trailer Park and seen an excited leer in Chapman’s eyes when he came into his trailer to buy weed.
“Hey, yo’, hey, hi, oh shit, hey, you’re like… weird, right?” He spoke quickly, like he couldn’t quite form words fast enough.
“Uh… Yeah.” Bart handed over the hundred dollars and Chapman gave him two baggies, an eighth of an ounce each.
“Hell yeah, hell yeah, hell yeah,” Chapman said, drumming on his thighs like he heard music. He licked his lips nervously. “So, uh… are you like… a… I mean, don’t take this the wrong way, I just need to know… Are you like… down?”
“What?”
“I mean are you picky?”
“Uh, well…” Bart shrugged. Chapman was rather lean and hairless for Bart’s taste. Bart liked his men meaty, big and furry. “Chapman, just say what you want. You’re beating around the bush like a woman,” Bart said with his hands on his hips. “You’re handsome and all..”
“Not me! Will you let my friend cornhole you?”
“Oh,” Bart straightened up. “Who’s your friend?”
“His name is Piggie,” Chapman said. He smirked. “I mean, that ain’t his name. We just calls him that on ‘ccount of he’s real ugly.”
“You’re not tantalizing me, Chapman.”
“I mean, he ain’t ugly, ‘xactly. But he ain’t handsome. He kinda tubby. We brought him a couple whores for him and his boys, and man, she run screamin’ from ‘im. Say he got too much hair. On his back and all!” Chapman said with an exasperated cringe, as though a hairy back was unheard of. He threw his hands in the air. “He big, he work out all the time, boy, swear to God. I ain’t got no photos. He just hairy like a nasty motherfucker, got a face like a retarded hog.”
“A hairy back?”
“Yeah,” Chapman said with a sigh. “He refuses to shave it, man. He’s nasty. Sweats all the fucking time. Don’t worry, I ain’t expect you was gonna want his dick, he just wanted me to ask-“
“I didn’t say no,” Bart said. He licked his lips. Bart thought Chapman’s heftier, hairier and sweatier friend would be really arousing, and he blushed. But he also gave Chapman a look that said the real answer was yes.
“Hot damn!” Chapman said. He quickly made a phone call, bundled Bart up into his car and drove off.
Bart had to wear a blindfold. Not only was Piggie a hairy, muscle-bound, sweat-dripping hillbilly, he was a bad boy — he grew weed. He was Chapman’s supplier.
By the time they got there — wherever there was — Bart was getting carsick, so he was glad to feel the car roll to a stop. He took his blindfold off. They had been driving on dirt roads for the last mile or two. It looked like there wasn’t even a dirt road leading here; the road behind the truck was just a trail wide enough, more or less, for a truck to get through.
There was a small wooden shack with a chimney belching smoke, next to a rundown old trailer. There was a greenhouse behind that, tucked away among the trees. Bart stretched his legs and followed Chapman to the front door.
When the door opened, Bart had trouble following the conversation — Piggie was more alluring and arousing than he could have ever imagined. Chapman had described him as “ugly”, and that wasn’t exactly wrong: Piggie was not handsome by any means. He had a squat, round face with a big goofy grin, long stringy hair and a tangled beard. No women would ever describe him as handsome, but if he cut his hair (all of it) showered and cleaned up, Bart thought, a lot of women would fall for him. His face was a little crooked, like a boxer’s, with a flattened nose and cauliflower ear. He was missing one front tooth.
“Hot diggity, you brought a toy!” Piggie bellowed when Chapman explained. His sweat-dripping chest was bare, big clumps of hair plastered to his skin, and broad, strapping, chunky torso rippling with every motion he made. He wiped his fingers off on his belly, which had a substantial paunch. He had been eating something greasy, so the fat twinkled and glimmered on his skin. Piggie looked at Bart like a hungry man looks at dinner, and Bart shivered. Piggie wrinkled his nose, licked his lips and growled. “Oh shit, he move like he ready.”
“Piggie-“
“Shut up, Chapman,” Piggie said through gritted teeth.
“What’s goin’ on out there? Who is that? If it’s Mitchum, tell him to go fuck hisself.” A voice called out from the shack.
“Ain’t Mitchum,” Piggie called out, keeping his eyes trained at Bart.
“Hi, uh… Piggie,” Bart said. His voice had never sounded so weak and frail.
“Oh he got a girlish voice too. Say somethin’ else, boy.”
“I’m Bart,” Bart said, blushing. He was so nervous he thought he might faint. “It’s nice to meet you.” He held out his hand for Piggie to shake it.
Piggie lowered himself to his one knee like he was going to propose. He took Bart’s hand in his and kissed the back of it. Then he took Bart’s middle finger and swallowed it all the way down.
Chapman howled. “Ah, shit, man, he’s gettin’ romantic! He seducin’ ‘im! Damn!” He walked towards the main area of the shack, where the other men’s voices came from. His words brought those other men to the front to see what was happening however, and when they saw Piggie licking Bart’s finger, they hollered as well.
“Piggie, whatchoo doin’?”
“You ain’t say you was gonna do that!”
Bart blushed a beet-red. Piggie just kept his eyes trained on Bart, ignoring the others screaming and laughing nervously.
“Look here, boy, I don’t get a lotta girls, but lucky for me,” Piggie said, raising his deep, raspy voice to be heard over the others, “I ain’t picky. You so purtty and delicate like a girl, I can pretend you a female. I wanna make you dirty and nasty.”
“Yes. Please do, yes,” Bart said.
“Good. We gonna get real nasty.” Piggie scooped Bart up in his arms. He kissed Bart on the lips while the deep-throated hollers of the other hillbillies in the shack filled the air. “Let’s go to the greenhouse, get some privacy.”
The others didn’t follow, which Bart was glad for. He didn’t need a heckling squad while he got plowed into. When they were outside and away from the others, Piggie sighed and sniffed deeply of the woodsy air.
“Boy, it’s a nice day, I’mma stick ya out here,” Piggie said. He brought Bart to a thick log on the forest floor. He let go of Bart, who immediately planted his lips on Piggie’s chest.
The sweat flavor was intense and acrid. It brought tears to Bart’s eyes and made his dick stiffen up in his pants. Piggie must not bathe often — there was no shower here, but the other men weren’t that dirty, so Bart assumed there must have been a hose or some way to clean themselves. Or maybe, he thought, there was nothing of the sort and Piggie was dirty because he alone never left, so he never bathed.
Bart didn’t much care why though. He simply liked the filth. He licked every drop of sweat off Piggie’s chest. His tongue teased Piggie’s matted kinky hairs and slobbered over his muscles.
“How nasty is you, boy?” Piggie spat into the palm of his hand. It was a big wet load, thick and sticky. He held it in front of Bart’s face. Bart obediently sucked it right up, gargled with it and showed his full mouth to Piggie. He blushed when Piggie howled his approval. “Hot doggie, nice, boy, I swear to God, I hope you and me go to prison together sometime. We would come up wit’ all kinda ways to pass the time. We could get through a hundred life sentences in an afternoon.” Piggie whistled like a cowboy.
Bart knew he was expected to swallow his mouthful of spit, but he wanted to show Piggie that he was just as raunchy as Piggie was. So Bart dove his face between Piggie’s right arm and his chest. He plunged his mouth and his nose into Piggie’s armpit.
Piggie was confused for a moment — he was, it seemed, new to pit worship — but he then raised his arm. The fresh and fragrantly sour smell of his armpit hit Bart’s senses. It was so strong it cut through the fog and excitement of the situation, and it made Bart moan.
He lapped at the funky bundle of hair in Piggie’s armpit. There was no clear divider between his hair there and the hair on his chest. Then Bart moved to the other armpit, where he got a new fresh faceful of sweat.
“You taste clean,” Piggie said appreciatively — he rubbed his fingers over Bart’s smooth back, then sucked whatever flavor he could get off his hand. He moaned and dropped his pants to reveal a thick, uncut cock with a cheesy foreskin. The smell of his unwashed balls made Bart’s eyes water all over again. Piggie moaned. “Gonna make you taste so dirty yo’ mama don’t wanna touch you evuh again, boy.”
“Okay,” Bart said with a giggle. His tongue moved from Piggie’s left armpit around to his hairy back, and the sight of that made Bart’s dick twitch. He knew there weren’t a lot of hairback lovers out there, but he was dedicated and passionate about it. He sucked on each hair as though trying to suck it right off Piggie’s body. He left hickeys over Piggie’s meaty back muscles and he sucked the pool of sweat that had collected on the small of his back.
Piggie’s back was not just a little hairy, it was covered in hair, very nearly as much as his chest. That was just fine with Bart. The more he sucked it clean, the more aroused he was, and the more Piggie shuffled and howled. Piggie lowered himself so Bart could reach.
Eventually Piggie had lowered himself to all fours, his funky hair-choked ass sticking up high in the air. Bart knew he was going to give Piggie the nastiest rimjob ever, but he didn’t want to rush through things, so he leaned over Piggie’s hairy ass to lick the rest of his back.
That placed Bart’s bare cock over Piggie’s bare ass. Bart first angled himself to avoid actual contact because Bart didn’t want to make him so uncomfortable he stopped this rutting. But Piggie didn’t complain, not even when Bart’s dick brushed up against his hairy ass.
“Oink! Oink!” Piggie roared like a hog when he heard tittering laughter from the other hillbillies. They weren’t watching, but it looked like they kept pushing each other out the back door, trying to make each other come watch. They laughed at Piggie, who oinked and writhed like a real pig.
Soon Bart had mounted Piggie’s body to lick him all over. Piggie didn’t complain, and even moaned when he felt Bart’s cock rub over his asshole. He didn’t even make Bart get off him when the others seemed to notice that Bart’s naked body had mounted Piggie from behind, even though it must have looked like Bart was about to sodomize Piggie instead of the other way around. They laughed, then went back inside.
“I bet you know where to lick next,” Piggie said as he lifted his head, making Bart slide down his chunky back.
Bart giggled and stuck his tongue out. He planted it right on Piggie’s back, over his spine, and kept it there as he lowered himself down Piggie’s back. He landed on his knees right in front of Piggie’s ass and rammed his head in there, between those awe-inspiring cheeks.
They were big and plump and juicy and round and covered with dense, kinky hairs. The taste was foul, the sweat cloying, the skin moist and filthy, and Bart loved every bit of it. He groaned and moaned as he slathered spit all over each cheek, then rammed his face into Piggie’s crack.
“Oh fuck yeah, get ya tongue in there, boy, deep in there…” Piggie groaned.
Bart lapped at his asshole. He loved giving rimjobs to hairy men, and Piggie was one of the hairiest. Bart had to push through a dense forest of hair to get to his tight hole, and the taste was so musky it made Bart gag — not in a bad way, he loved it. He savored the salty, sour, biting flavor and let it fill his mouth.
“Get ya face up here, boi, lemme paint it,” Piggie said. He didn’t wait for Bart to do so, he turned himself around and spat again on Bart’s face, a big stinky wad of saliva. Then he sat on Bart’s face, rubbing his hairy ass all over. “Get covered in it, boy, hell yeah, you turn me on so much it hurts…”
The fresh spit awakened the flavor of Piggie’s ass, which spread to cover Bart’s face. Bart plunged his tongue right into Piggie’s tight hole, which tasted funky and potent. He sputtered. He flickered his tongue within Piggie’s body, making Piggie’s entire meaty frame shake. Every motion he made caused his asshole to tighten around Bart’s tongue.
Soon Piggie lifted himself up and lowered himself again, plowing into himself with Bart’s tongue. Bart had always been good at rimjobs because he had a preternaturally long tongue, which he used to good effect inside Piggie’s body. He teased Piggie’s prostate, making his face turn red and his muscles all tense at once.
“Ah, yeah, you gonna make me oink, boy!” Piggie said with a roar. He did oink, though Bart would have never realized he intended for it to sound like an oink if Piggie hadn’t said so. It was more of a eurwh sound, as Piggie’s muscles writhed and his asshole clenched around Bart’s tongue.
The tastes and scents of Piggie’s ass were so overwhelming that Bart was dizzy. He was groggy and only barely aware when Piggie finally pulled away, and bright light hit Bart’s eyes.
“Oh yeah, you look good and nasty,” Piggie said. Mud dripped from his elbows where he had been leaning in the dirt. He leaned down and licked Bart’s cheek, slurping up all the assjuice and spit that dripped down his skin. Piggie shuddered and gagged, but smacked his lips like he loved the taste. He licked Bart again and again, lapping at his face.
Then, all in one smooth motion, he jabbed his dick into Bart’s mouth. Bart’s throat spread open as Piggie ignored his resistance and slammed his manhood all the way down. Piggie pounded on his chest and again let out that moist oink-like sound.
“Gonna get all up in ya belly, boy… Gonna go at ya till you can’t take it…”
All Bart could do was choke and submit. He grasped Piggie’s plump asscheeks, then fingered Piggie’s ass — Piggie didn’t complain even when Bart rammed two fingers in there. Piggie grunted and twisted like it hurt, but he also gasped, moaning, groaning and writhing with the pleasure roiling his muscles. He gripped Bart’s head with both hands, plowing into Bart’s throat and making him cough up saliva and precum in big clumps.
Lack of oxygen made Bart remain dizzy as he endured Piggie’s passionate throat-humping. Every few seconds, Piggie pulled out of Bart’s mouth, kissed him on the lips and licked all the mess up off his face before resuming.
“Ah, boy, you make a nice cumsponge, I reckon you was built fo’ that,” Piggie said. “I know it ain’t in the Bible, but that’s my theory.” He groaned and held onto Bart’s head, his dick all the way in Bart’s throat. Bart squirmed and gagged, choking up big gobs of spit which he caught in the palm of one hand.
Piggie saw the spit and precum that collected in Bart’s hand. He removed his dick long enough to let Bart take one hoarse, loud breath while Piggie bent down to suck all the messy soup off Bart’s hand. He showed off that mouthful of fluids and let it run down his grimy chin.
“I love nastiness,” Piggie said as he chewed on the mouthful of fluids. It made him gag and spill out over his chin, where his skin was dirty enough that the juices left a trail of seemingly-clean flesh. “And, boy, you got all the right kinda nasty.” His voice was moist and hard to understand, but Bart picked up every word.
Bart bent down to kiss Piggie’s feet. They were covered in mud and clumps of dirt, and his feet were hairy like a hobbit’s. Bart giggled as he sucked on each toe. Piggie loomed over him like a Greek god — a filthy, muddy, rut-scented hillbilly Greek god — and lifted up his feet to let Bart get them clean all up and down.
Both men were on the verge of orgasm by the time Bart bent back over that rotting log, which had partially collapsed due to the weight of both Piggie and Bart weighing it down. He lowered his head to near the dirt, and lifted his ass high in the air.
“Boy, you look good in that position. Now you make a sound like this as I stick ya,” Piggie said. He made that loud soo-eee farmer’s call and laughed when Bart’s lilting feminine voice made the same sound. Piggie slapped Bart’s asscheek. “Gonna make you so nasty, boy, shit…”
“Ram it in me… Soo-Eee!” Bart grunted as Piggie jammed his dick in his ass. Just like in his throat, Piggie was crude and merciless — exactly how Bart liked it. Pain bloomed in his tight ass, but only for a few seconds.
Then Bart’s prostate came alive and tingled, sending waves of pleasure up Bart’s spine. Bart tensed up, which made Piggie laugh and lower his chest onto Bart’s back. He pinned Bart against the rotting log beneath him.
“You feel me in you, boy? Huh? Lemme hear ya voice,” Piggie said. His chest rumbled against Bart’s spine, his chest hairs scratching at Bart’s smooth skin. His deep voice echoed, aimed directly into Bart’s ear, making him writhe, which in turn caused Piggie to laugh. “I see you movin’. That’s cuz I make ya feel good, right? Say it. Say it, boy, lemme hear you say it.”
“You make me feel good…” Bart said, but his voice was very weak because his mind was focused on the intense array of sensations emanating up from his asshole. Piggie didn’t stop to listen to anything Bart said anyway, he just kept plowing and talking directly into Bart’s ear.
“You gon’ be real nasty, you gonna be like a pig in slop when I’s through wit’cha. You ain’t nevuh gonna be clean again. Is it worth it?”
“Yes…” A few tears rolled down Bart’s cheek. He wasn’t crying from any emotion, just from the potency of the feelings that wracked his body.
“Girls don’t evuh lemme treat ‘em like this,” Piggie said. “They wanna be princesses. I want to start ‘em out like princesses, and then grind ‘em into the dirt. Then they be a princess of raunch. You like that? You wanna be my raunch princess?”
“Yes!”
“Good, you nasty, you real nasty. You wanna taste how nasty you is?”
“Yes!”
Piggie didn’t stop plowing, but he did lower one of his hands to rub his own cockshaft. As it slid in and out, he got his hand full of Bart’s assjuice and Piggie’s own nearly-orgasmic precum. Grimy, gritty fluids dripped from his callused hand, which he placed in front of Bart’s face.
It tasted so foul Bart wanted to gag — he couldn’t do anything more than sputter because Piggie’s sweat-soaked body pressed down on his back — but Bart tried to lick every corner of Piggie’s hand. Piggie licked it too, and their tongues combined over the gooey filth that dripped over Bart’s face. Piggie licked that off too.
“Shit, boy, I wish I could fill a tank wit’ my nastiness and we could go swimmin’ in it… I could just dip you in there e’ry day.”
As they both neared orgasm, Piggie wrapped both of his arms around Bart’s delicate frame. He rolled over like they were wrestling, and he laid on his back. The movement and the bouncing when Bart landed on Piggie sent sharp stabbing pains through Bart’s asshole.
But that lasted only a moment. With Bart on top now, he was in control of the plowing, and he rammed his own body up and down. He was so focused on that that he barely noticed Piggie gripping Bart’s dick and stroking it off as they both plowed into there.
“Fillin’ you up now, boi, fillin’ you up wit’ my babies… Gonna get yo’ ass pregnant…” He laughed as his orgasm ripped through him.
Cum sprayed into Bart’s asshole, a bit and creamy hot load that filled Bart’s body. Bart sighed. He leaned his head back and sucked moisture off Piggie’s hairy chest, while he endured what felt like an endless orgasm within him.
His prostate sang and exploded, as Piggie’s dick teased him, spurting out wad after wad of thick cum, which slipped out and down Bart’s cheeks. Bart came too, Piggie’s hands stroking him off until he had covered his chest and belly with juice.
“Ah shit, yeah, hell fuck!” Piggie screamed. He desperately held onto Bart as though any motion might ruin the orgasm. He breathed through gritted teeth. Bart was utterly motionless, the pleasure wafting through him gradually shifting to pain as his body adjusted. Piggie growled. “I bet you know what to do. Get yaself nasty, boy.”
Bart giggled. He slid off Piggie’s cock and sighed as a wave of tremendous relief hit him. His asshole was tender and sore, but it still sent twinges of bliss through his body. Bart didn’t gag when he tasted his own ass on Piggie’s cock. He slapped himself over the face with that limp slab of meat, and he covered himself in remnants of Piggie’s cum.
“I like how you look wit’ juice all over ya face…”
He didn’t stop there. Bart licked all the way up Piggie’s crotch to his belly, and he licked up every drop of sweat and juices there. He used his hand to wipe his own load off his chest, and smeared it over his face.
“Wait, lemme see that,” Piggie said when Bart was done. He smiled sickly as he looked at Bart’s face, which was covered in layers of sweat, spit, cum and assjuice.
A loud retching sound and some hushed laughter filled the air. Chapman and the others had crept forward to watch. They had been blushing and daring each other to come closer for some time, but Bart had been so overwhelmed he didn’t notice. They all gagged and cheered at the same time when Piggie stuck his tongue out and licked all those juices off Bart’s face.
“Damn, Piggie, you nasty!”
“No wonder that whore wouldn’t fuck you, Jesus Christ, you are gross!”
But Piggie just laughed and leaned back in the mud. He hugged Bart close to his burly barrel chest, which Bart rested his head on. This had been such an incredible and exciting experience that he was exhausted as soon as it was over, even with those men laughing loudly.
Soon Bart was sound asleep, curled up on the broad hairy chest of Piggie, who frowned but didn’t remove Bart. He just got Chapman to bring him a joint to smoke, and he laid there while Bart slept. The funk of Piggie’s body made Bart’s eyes water while he slumbered, but he didn’t mind at all.
The smell just made him horny, so when he woke up, he was ready to go again. By then Chapman had left. So had the other hillbillies, and Piggie had carried Bart into the shack so gently Bart didn’t wake up.
“It’s just you and me, boy,” Piggie said. He stuffed pork cracklings into his mouth. He smiled. “We gonna have a little honeymoon. Not honey, that ain’t right. We gonna have a dirtmoon. You like that?”
“Yeah.” Bart said. “I can’t wait.”

The Third Baseman

When minor league baseball player Lloyd Walters comes by to flooze it up at the Night Along Motel, clerk Avery Flowers is all too eager to help him out with all his… manly needs. Can Avery earn those stars on his customer service eval form?

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Read the whole thing here!

Late night shifts at the Night Along Motel were slow and boring. Avery didn’t mind it, because he could watch TV and goof off on the Internet, which is realistically what he would have been doing at home. But still, the interminable quiet was dreadful, alleviated only by the occasional pandemonium of a drunken group of hotel guests coming back to their room. It was not usually an exciting job, but it had some perks.
“Hey hombre, you speak English?” asked a man’s deep voice. Avery was startled to see an almost-naked man there. He was a barrel-chested semi-pro baseball player — third baseman for the Riverbank Whoppers in the Mid-Atlantic Minor League — who had checked in a couple hours before, in advance of a game tomorrow. He stood there in plain white boxers from which a few tantalizing pubic hairs poked through, and he swayed on drunken legs. His mustache quivered, moistly. He had a delightfully not quite perfect physique, which Avery adored, and a daddyish thickness though he was lean, hungry-looking, like his muscles were uncomfortable for him.
Avery was used to being asked if he spoke English — a lot of the Night Along Motel’s staff were Spanish-only, after all. “Yes, sir. I checked you in when you got here, Mr. Walters.”
He leaned in close and peered at Avery as though checking to see if he was lying. The man, Lloyd Walters was his name, scratched his balls through his boxers. For a moment his thick cock was outlined by the dingy fabric of his shorts, and Avery’s heart raced as he pictured this brutish jock naked. Lloyd’s rancid breath was beer-soaked and hot. He produced a twenty dollar bill and gave it to Avery.
“Go get me a hamburger. Can you do that? Or is there one that delivers?”
“I can arrange for a delivery,” Avery said, glad that his connection at the scuzzy twenty-four hour hamburger joint across town finally came in handy.
“Good. Get me the biggest hamburger they got and everything they put on it,” Lloyd said carefully, as though describing brain surgery, “But not any kind of mushrooms. And make it rare.”
“Okay.”
“No, wait… Is this a nice place?”
“Well… It’s the only place that’s open this late.”
“Then medium-rare. I can’t be shitting all over the place at the game tomorrow.”
“Yes sir.”
His belly rumbling, Lloyd sauntered back into his room then, and after a few minutes, two cheap floozies crept out the door. Their just-fucked hair made it obvious what had happened; they giggled quietly, whispering, no doubt bragging about how they had just fucked a baseball pro (or semipro, close enough, Avery thought).
Avery’s friend arrived soon after that, with a bag containing the greasy hamburger. Avery gave him a tip and then brought the food to Lloyd’s room. He knocked, but there was no response. He knocked again, louder.
“Come in!”
Avery walked in to see a stark naked Lloyd, sitting on the bed. He was sweaty and relaxed, sprawled out on the bare mattress. His limp cock was still moist, plastered to his thigh and gleaming in the dim light. The sheets and blankets were in a ball on the floor.
The smell of the hamburger aroused Lloyd from his soporific, drunken daze, and he took the bag from Avery. He nodded to the sheets and blankets. “Can I get some clean sheets brought in?”
Avery nodded. “Sure.”
“You might wanna… get rid of those,” Lloyd said. “Both those girls was anal virgins, if you get my drift.”
Avery saw the moist sheets dotted with blood, and he nodded. “Certainly, Mr. Walters. I’ll send the cleaning staff right in.”
“They’s prolly women, right? I should put some drawers on.”
Avery hesitated. “They would probably prefer it, sir.”
“Ain’t you polite?” Lloyd grinned. “Cleaning staff hot?”
“Eh… They are all older Mexican women, sir. The youngest is still a grandmother. They have a… steely handsomeness, but I’m not sure they would appeal to you,” Avery said. His cheeks blushed. He hoped this baseball jock didn’t ask for a prostitute. Avery wasn’t supposed to do that. The city punishes hotel clerks hard if they act as pimps. A hotel that provides women is just a brothel, after all, and the city did not want a brothel.
“Damn… Well, if any of ’em look like a sexy grandnmother, send me that one,” Lloyd said with a wink and a cackle. His sweat-dappled chest muscles rippled.
Avery licked his lips. “Didn’t you just…?” he nodded towards the door.
“We finished like an hour ago, so I’m ‘bout ready for another go-‘round” Lloyd said. “And they barely sucked my dick at all. Silly little college brats can’t suck cock worth a damn.”
“I see. Well, I do not think the cleaning staff will be interested,” Avery said.
“You look like you got nice soft lips there,” Lloyd said. His voice was deep as a canyon, and it had a sultry charm to it. Avery was not surprised he did well with women. Even aside from the fame and the physique of a baseball star, Lloyd had a masculine allure that Avery could not ignore.
Avery was so shocked he didn’t have a response. He had been propositioned by bucks here at the Night Along Motel before, that part wasn’t new, but a semipro baseball jock like Lloyd? That was a first, especially since he had just fucked — normally men were only interested when they were so horny they didn’t care where they stuck their cock. But no matter how virile he was, Lloyd couldn’t be that horny again just an hour after sex. “Yep,” Avery said, finally forming a word then blushing at how stupid he sounded.
“You got something to do with those lips?”
Avery dropped to his knees and kneeled in front of the bed. Lloyd leaned back on some pillows he had propped up, and then grabbed for the hamburger bag. He took it out and the cloyingly greasy smell filled the room.
Lloyd opened his bathrobe, his heavy cock dangling between his legs. It smelled delicious — especially with the odor of beef on top, Avery thought, giving it a tantalizing meatiness. He opened his mouth and swallowed it down to the root, determined to give Lloyd an orgasm he’d remember for a long time. The flavor of his stale sweat and the remnants of his fucking overwhelmed Avery’s senses as he slathered his tongue up and down the shaft.
“Oh fuck yeah,” Lloyd said. He groaned deeply then turned the TV on to Cinemax, where softcore girl-on-girl porn was playing. He belched loudly, his cock throbbing and firming up quick in Avery’s gullet. “Damn, I should take you with me to away games. Call you my personal ball boy.”
The pleasure visibly dancing up Lloyd’s chest made it clear how he felt about this. Avery did jack a dick off better than any women — lots of men had told Avery that. Women didn’t know how to do it, and they didn’t like to swallow a huge cock. Avery did. Avery didn’t even mind gagging on it, but usually, he did not gag.
Avery’s tongue slathered up and down his shaft as he wished Lloyd was serious, but knew he wasn’t. Men said that kind of thing a lot when their cock was in Avery’s mouth, but they always changed their mind once their balls were drained. Lloyd took a big bite from his hamburger, as Avery moved down to his balls.
He knew girls always hated licking balls, but he loved it, especially when they were swollen like Lloyd’s, and dripping with the remains of his wild rutting earlier. Avery could taste layers of sweat and feminine lotion still trapped in the hairs of his scrotum.
Moving back to the shaft, Avery deep-throated his cock. Lloyd gripped Avery’s ears tight, putting his hamburger down so he could use both grease-slickened hands. He pushed his dick all the way down Avery’s throat and held it there as he groaned.
Cum came pouring out of his cock with such an uninterrupted stream it was as though he was pissing down Avery’s gullet. Lloyd’s whole body bucked as his chest and neck turned reddish. Avery managed to swallow almost every drop of the pearly sweet cum. Lloyd grunted, sounding like a bodybuilder working hard on his biceps, and his balls slapped against Avery’s chin.
“Oh fuck yeah, you got a comment card or some shit?” Lloyd said with a throaty laugh. “I’m gonna tell the manager you’re good at your job.”
“You’ll be given an evaluation form when you check out, sir,” Avery said breathlessly as he wiped cum from his lips. He didn’t want to waste any. “I’d appreciate all fives.”
“Is that one of those things where anything less than a perfect score might as well be a zero?”
“Yes,” Avery said. He didn’t like grubbing for positive comment cards, but that was how he earned a bonus. If he got a bunch of them, he could win a five hundred dollar bonus every single month, and Avery was eager to get that money.
Not that that was why he jacked Lloyd off. Avery would do that for the love of it all. He had a great and deep admiration for the male physique. It was so much more appealing than women, he thought. Women were bony and soft and smelled nice, while Avery liked meaty, solid flesh that smelled like a barrel of jockstraps.
“I’m glad I could make your stay at the Night Along Motel more pleasing. Do let me know if there’s anything else I can do.”
“I certainly will,” Lloyd said with a chuckle. He sighed, stretched and sprawled out on the bed. He was asleep before Avery had even gotten his clothes back on and snuck out the door.
Avery didn’t see Lloyd again for a couple months, and by the time he did, he had written the experience off as a one-time bonanza that was unlikely to be repeated. A pro (or semipro, technically) athlete must have had his choice of women, Avery thought, and he wasn’t going to settle for a queery blowjob again. That was too much to hope for — God wasn’t that generous, not to people like Avery. So when Lloyd sauntered into the front desk area late one night, Avery’s heart started pounding in his chest. He didn’t have two slutty girls with him this time either.
Lloyd winced a little, as though he was hoping he wouldn’t run into Avery. He hesitated, seemingly pondering his options. He held a suitcase in one hand. He wore an ill-fitting suit, with an off-the-racks black shirt and jacket that clashed horribly with his tan shoes and gray belt. Obviously he doesn’t have a girlfriend, Avery thought, or if he does, she’s colorblind. His shirt had not been ironed, Avery noticed; he looked about as well put-together as a homeless high school senior on an away game.
“Mr. Walters, another game tonight, huh?” Avery said, proud of himself for remembering his last name. That was gonna mean another good comment card, he thought.
Lloyd shook his head. “There’s no games on Sunday,” he said. “We played last night.”
“Oh, good game?” Avery said even as he realized from Lloyd’s body language that it hadn’t been a good game at all. He didn’t see that until it was too late, and Lloyd winced again. Obviously this was a sore subject for him. Avery cursed and hoped he hadn’t ruined his chances of a repeat.
“No. We lost, and…” Lloyd sighed. “Everyone thinks it’s my fault. It is my fault. I mean, not really, it wasn’t a tight throw and — nevermind, you don’t want to hear my excuses. I fucked up. I could have done better, and I didn’t. Can’t win ’em all.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. I’m sure you did your best, sir,” Avery said, feeling like a den mother. He patted Lloyd on the forearm, and his spine shuddered at the feel of the man’s powerful muscles. He felt bad about thinking of sex when Lloyd was so upset. He handed Lloyd the key to his room. “Would you like me to come help you forget? I have to wait for my manager to go home, but that will be very soon.” Avery’s heart pounded as he wondered whether Lloyd would agree to jack off with him again.
“No, I…” Lloyd stopped and thought about it. “Yes,” he said. “Come on in.”
Avery watched him walk back to his room, the swagger gone from his step. The next hour passed interminably slow, but finally Avery saw his boss head out to the parking lot. After waiting a few minutes to be sure he didn’t come back, Avery hurriedly knocked on Lloyd’s door.
“Yeah, come in,” he said and Avery scurried inside.
Lloyd was already drunk. He must have been chugging booze from the moment he got here, Avery realized. Lloyd was stripped to his basketball shorts and a t-shirt, his bulging chest straining against the fabric. He held onto a metal flask that looked to be almost empty.
“Would you like a massage, sir?” Avery asked. He stood behind Lloyd’s chair and gripped his broad shoulders without waiting for an answer.
“Oh god yes,” Lloyd said. He leaned forward to give Avery more room on his back, then stripped off his t-shirt.
Avery rubbed his strapping back muscles. He used all his own musclepower on Lloyd’s shoulders and thick lats, which were so toned and tight they felt like coiled rope. Lloyd let out a loud moan of relaxation.
“Oh god, I needed this,” Lloyd said. He sounded almost ready to fall sleep right then, and moments later he jumped up onto his bed. Laying on his stomach, his pert asscheeks round and perfect, cradled by his shorts, Lloyd looked so delicious Avery wanted to eat him up right then.
But he didn’t want to make Lloyd uncomfortable, so he moved gradually lower and lower. He rubbed Lloyd’s upper back, his sides, his lower back, his feet and ankles, then slowly moved up his hairy thighs. He waited to see if Lloyd would tell him to stop, but he didn’t.
Was he asleep? Avery wasn’t sure at first. He might have passed out drunk, but he saw a few flickers of life. He seemed to be half-asleep, but still responding to Avery’s touch.
A few drops of sweat hovered just above Lloyd’s asscrack, in the pool at the small of his back. Avery quietly bent down and licked those beads of sweat up, then waited for Lloyd to say anything. He let his tongue jump past the elastic of Lloyd’s shorts, just for a second to see if he told Avery to stop.
No response. Avery smiled.
He let his tongue trace a line from the small of Lloyd’s back over his asscrack, without taking off his shorts. He tasted the plasticy, sweaty flavor of Lloyd’s shorts and smelled his stinky ass. The odor of thousands of hours of practice wafted into Avery’s nostrils, almost making him cum in his own pants right there.
He pulled those shorts down, revealing perfect globes of hairy assflesh. He kissed first one, then the other, giving Lloyd plenty of opportunity to say no. It was obvious he wanted this, Avery thought, and he even lifted his hips a little so Avery could get in there. He was probably just too embarrassed to say what he wanted.
Avery pushed his tongue inside Lloyd’s hairy asshole, and the musky flavor hit his senses. Avery’s own cock spasmed as he reached his own orgasm almost immediately, spraying cum into his hand. He shuddered but kept going deeper into Lloyd’s ass.
With the other hand, he reached around to Lloyd’s crotch and began stroking his dick. Soon Lloyd lifted his hips even more to facilitate it, until he was on his knees and elbows in front of Avery. He flexed his back in sync with Avery’s tongue, and his asshole opened up even more as he relaxed.
His tongue dug deep into Lloyd’s ass, but Avery saved most of his attention for the spongy prostate. Every time he touched it, Lloyd shuddered and his dick jerked beneath Avery’s fingers.
Lloyd’s breathing was short and sharp; it sounded like he was surprised at how good this felt. Avery wondered if he had ever had a rimjob before — possibly not, he knew a lot of men weren’t even aware it was something women did (which was probably fair, since most women would never do it). Avery, however, loved it, especially when he got to taste the wide ass of a semipro baseball player.
Finally he came, grunting as a thick load sprayed across his belly and dripped onto the bed below. Lloyd pawed at the mattress beneath him, then collapsed back onto his belly. Avery lifted his sweat-smeared face and took one last deep breath of Lloyd’s ass.
“Thanks for the massage,” Lloyd said.
“Not a problem, sir. That’s the kind of personal service we focus on here at the Night Along Motel.”
Avery had to get up early the next day to come in for a staff meeting. He wasn’t working the rest of the day, just coming in for a mandatory semi-annual meeting. He forced himself up at six a.m., pretending he hadn’t spent the previous evening servicing a semipro baseball player. He dimly showered and almost fell asleep on the way into work — he rarely started before noon, so this was a difficult disruption to his normal schedule.
The meeting was as dull and uneventful as ever. Avery hated coming to these idiotic meetings, except that he was able to schedule himself to be off those days, so he’d get paid a half-day for attending a one-hour meeting. That was, at least, a nice bonus. It was even worth getting up early. He could go home and take a nap after all, not that he would — Avery couldn’t sleep during the day no matter how tired he was.
When the meeting was over, he headed down the hall, choosing to go out a side door, both to avoid time-consuming chit-chat with his coworkers and because there was a chance he’d run into Lloyd. He wanted to walk past his room on the way out.
Jackpot! He smiled as he turned a corner and saw Lloyd poking his head out of the room. His grizzled face looked like he had just woken up, and was hungover. Lloyd looked at Avery in confusion — Avery wasn’t wearing a uniform.
“You working?”
“It’s my day off,” Avery said. Technically true, but he was paid a half-day today. He probably should have worn the uniform. They had been told to wear it to these meetings, though hardly anyone did and the manager seemed to have forgotten it was a rule. He hoped nobody who cared noticed.
“Oh, I couldn’t get anyone at the front desk, no one answered,” he said. “Is something wrong?”
“We just had a staff meeting. It’s over now though. You should be able to get someone. Is there a problem?”
“I just wanted to ask for a massage. You guys do that, right? I mean, not just your kind of massage.”
Avery smiled again. “Well… I do. But everyone else at the front desk just send out for a masseuse from a cheap place down the street. If you want a massage like what you got last night, let me do it. I won’t even charge you a courtesy fee like the hotel would.”
He smiled back. “Okay.”
Avery walked into Lloyd’s room, the same room he had stayed in the previous time as well. This was beginning to be the room Avery used every time he got a hot stud at work — it happened more often than seemed reasonable. The Night Along Motel simply had that sort of reputation. It was a place where men could get laid, not always by hot chicks, but someone or another.
Once Lloyd closed the door, he grinned. “Glad I found you. That massage place down the street… Are they full-service?”
“Uh, no, sir,” Avery said. “There used to be one girl who worked there who did, she gave twenty dollar handjobs though, that’s it. But she got arrested anyway. They usually send a man nowadays. Not a man like me either, a big Swedish guy with a belly and an ugly mustache.” Avery stopped talking, feeling self-conscious; Lloyd didn’t care about this stuff, he thought. He just wants another rimjob or something.
“Oh, well… I was really hoping to blow my nut this morning,” Lloyd said.
Avery dropped to his knees and grabbed Lloyd’s dick through his shorts.
“Wait,” Lloyd said. “I mean… I really wanna plow. No one wants to give up the ass anymore. Oprah said something about anal sex being demeaning last month, and now no chicks wanna do it.”
“Really?”
“I dunno, that’s what this black guy on my team said.” Lloyd shrugged. “I don’t watch Oprah.”
“Wow, I hope that’s true,” Avery said. “Cuz I love it when men get desperate.”
“I bet you do,” he said. He dropped his pants and motioned for Avery to bend over. “That happens a lot here, huh?”
“Yeah, it sort of does,” Avery said. He dropped his pants as he bent over the bed and spread his legs.
“Alright… this is weird, where do I put my hands?” Lloyd said.
“Wherever you want.” Avery felt his hot dick push into his ass, and Lloyd’s hot breath on the back of his neck.
Lloyd murmured something but Avery didn’t catch it; he was too intent on the pain blooming in his ass. He moaned and clawed at the mattress. There was a burst of pleasure as well, a dim pre-orgasmic buzz that grew and grew with every thrust of Lloyd’s hips.
“That hurt?” Lloyd asked.
“Yes, but keep going,” Avery said.
Lloyd chuckled. “Shit, I wish girls was like this about butt stuff. They take all the fun out of it with the complaining,” Lloyd said, then before Avery could respond, he rammed his dick the rest of his way in. “Hang on, this might hurt.”
Avery bit his lip and began stroking his own hard cock with one hand. He arched his back to give Lloyd a better angle, though he knew that would make the pain a bit more intense. In truth, Avery liked it when taking dick hurt just a bit; it made the pleasure more pleasurable, more incredible and more awe-inspiringly, jaw-droppingly potent. He writhed atop the bedspread as he struggled to accept every inch of Lloyd’s meat.
Lloyd whooped like he was leaving the huddle in the middle of a big game, psyching himself up with whooping and hollers. He was gyrating his hips now, moving his manhood smoothly in and out of Avery’s tight butthole.
They were moving in sync now, and Lloyd’s awkwardness with his hands vanished. He grabbed ahold of Avery’s hips to better control the positioning of his ass, and as it became apparent that Avery was going to love any position Lloyd chose, Lloyd lifted his ass even higher while pushing Avery’s head into the mattress with his other hand. His big baseball-toned muscle jiggled with every thrust of his dick into Avery’s intestines.
“You want me to pull out?”
“Fuck no,” Avery said breathlessly, and Lloyd laughed.
“I like to hear that.”
Avery didn’t have a response to that. He was busy shooting his load onto the bedspread, and shuddering as an orgasm ripped through him. He felt his ass squeeze Lloyd tight, which was apparently all he needed to send him over the edge as well.
A wave of cum hit him internally, and Avery felt its warm creaminess spreading throughout his innards. He was still pointed face-down, ass-up, so it drained deeper and deeper within him.
Lloyd’s cock spasmed hotly as he dragged it out, and there was a slick popping sound when it came out. It flopped onto Avery’s ass and left a moist slick there.
“Fuck, man… This is the greatest damn hotel ever,” Lloyd said.
“I couldn’t agree more.”

The Private

On a layover, Avery runs into Private Edmond Samberg, who could use some cash… and a mouth on his alpha male manhood. These are the kinds of problems Avery is prepared to solve!

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read it here!

Avery woke up with an aching back. He yawned. The terminal was quiet. There were sleeping travelers scattered everywhere. He was in Dulles airport, in Northern Virginia. A major snowstorm had trapped everyone here. Even the staff hadn’t left for awhile because the roads were impassable. But it looked like that must have cleared up, because there were a lot fewer annoyed employees lounging around off the clock.
He stood, stretched and went to the men’s room to freshen up. He didn’t look so good. He had gone to a Christmas Eve wedding in Guyana and was on his way home. It had been freakish to go from tropical Guyana to blizzardy Virginia in a few hours.
It was five o’clock in the morning, so very few people were even awake. None of the stores were open. No flights were coming or going. There weren’t any announcements over the PA aside from the routine reminders about minding your bags.
“Oh, hey, hey, man, look, hey, wait up, hey, sorry, sorry, man-“
It took Avery a moment to realize someone was talking to him. The airport was like a mausoleum, so the man’s deep voice resonated and felt profoundly out-of-place. Avery must have looked annoyed when he turned around — he was just surprised and confused, but he must have looked annoyed, he thought, because the man was taken aback.
“Hey, sorry, man, are you in a hurry? I just wanted to ask you something.”
“Um. Not really, no. I mean, yes, in theory, I’m in a hurry to get home, but I’m snowed in so all I can do is pace or whatever. I can’t go anywhere anyway. So, uh…” Avery’s voice trailed off because his sleepy mind finally registered what sort of man he was look at.
He was a tall, broad-shouldered man with a square jaw, wearing Army fatigues and heavy combat boots. He had a grizzled beard and tired, dark eyes. His muscles spilled from his camo. He carried himself heavily, like he hadn’t been muscular long and it still felt weird to him. Remnants of acne scarring on his cheeks gave him a mature look despite his youthful features, but it kept him from having a babyface.
“Do you know how to FaceCall? I don’t know what that is. My wife said I can do it on my laptop, I wanna FaceCall with her and my daughter. They’re in Okinawa so it’s evening there,” he said. “I don’t see it on my computer. Is it on email?”
“What, FaceCall? No, no, that’s not an email thing. Come on, I’ll show you,” Avery said.
Avery used FaceCall all the time, so it was easy for him to set up. In a few minutes he had the soldier — who introduced himself as Private Edmond Samberg — talking to his beautiful wife Omishi and their daughter Abigail, who was only three years old.
Avery had nothing else to do, so he just sat down once Samberg was talking to his family. This seating area was almost deserted. The whole airport was quiet and dark because it was in the middle of the night. Actually well past the middle, it was going on morning. Or maybe not. Avery had little sense of time anymore. He glanced at his phone which had the time on it but it didn’t compute in his travel-addled mind, and Avery didn’t care enough to devote any of his brain’s processing power to figuring it out.
He had a book to read, but he didn’t feel like reading it. He could get his phone out too, but he had been doing entirely too much of that. He was bored of relieving boredom with his phone. There would be nothing new online he wanted to see.
At first he tried to surreptitiously listen to Private Samberg and his family — Avery didn’t want to be nosy, there was just nothing else to do right now. It soon became apparent, however, that this conversation was going to consist mainly of babytalk. Private Samberg barely even spoke to his wife because he was so eager to connect with his daughter. He sang Christmas carols softly, aiming his voice directly into the microphone so it would be loud for his daughter but quiet enough to avoid waking anyone up in the airport.
Avery very nearly fell back asleep. He probably would have if it weren’t for Private Samberg’s strapping muscles bucking and flexing beneath his camo fatigues. He was entranced by the sight, and he blushed when Private Samberg almost caught him looking. Avery pretended to be humming along to “Jingle Bells”.
“Thanks a lot, man,” said Private Samberg after saying goodbye to his family and hanging up. “I would give you something for your time, but, man, I am broke. I’ve got eight cents in my bank account.”
“No worries, no problem. It’s nice to have something to do. It’s boring wasting my Christmas in a nasty old airport,” Avery said. He smiled and cleared his throat. “I know a way you can make five hundred dollars right here. Well, not right here. In the bathroom over there. The disabled bathroom is probably best.”
“What?”
“I’ll pay you five hundred dollars to jack off with me,” Avery said.
Private Samberg looked Avery up and down, nervously fingered his dog tags, then busted up laughing. He blushed. He looked like he was about to say no, but he just blushed more. He rearranged his cock in his camo pants. He covered his face. Then he shrugged. “Uh… Yeah. Okay. You for real?”
“Hell yeah I am,” Avery said. He saluted and stood up. “I’m here to follow orders, sir.”
He scoffed as he followed Avery into the disabled bathroom, which was large and clean. Avery locked the door. Private Samberg said, “You know I’m a private, right? I can’t order anyone around.”
“I know.”
“You really like jackin’ off with guys? I hate it, me and my unit do it all the time. It’s nasty.” He leaned against the wall and groaned. He closed his eyes. “But I do need somethin’ shit! I had a stiffy on the plane before, the one that brought me here, shit! The stewardess was like crazy hot. You shoulda seen her tits, man.” He blushed. “Sorry. I love my wife. I wasn’t gonna fuck her! The stewardess. Even if she wanted it-“
“I’m not the marriage police.”
“Even if she like threw herself at me, I wouldn’t…” Private Samberg’s eyes opened wide, and a moment later they opened wider. His dick twitched in his pants. “Shit! Ah, man!”
“Relax, relax, man, it’s okay to find chicks hot,” Avery said. “You didn’t fuck her, you’re fine. Don’t tell your wife about her though.”
“I won’t!”
“Are you alright? You look tired,” Avery said. He slid his hand into Edmond’s camo pants and wrapped his fingers around his cock. He gave it a few slow strokes, and Samberg leaned against the wall by the hand dryer.
Private Samberg nodded. “I am tired. Man, after I blow my wad, I’m gonna sleep for like twelve hours, I swear. My sergeant’s been yellin’ at me, cuz of this credit card debt… Man, it’s fucked.” He sighed, dropped his camo pants and let his dick fully flop out.
It throbbed hotly in Avery’s hand. It was nice and long, a definite two-hander but Avery only used one hand to make sure Samberg was gonna beg for more in a bit. His hand ran up and down the thickness of his shaft. “Your sergeant yells at you about credit card debt?”
“They’re worried about blackmail and shit, it’s conduct unbecoming,” he said. “And so they have a right to drill it… to, have a rule — it’s in the court, of, you know, the rights…” He blushed. “I don’t know the words. Sorry. My sergeant said it, but he was squeezin’ my balls so I don’t remember ’em.”
Avery smiled and gave his balls a very gentle squeeze. “Like that?”
“Harder.” His eyes bugged out. “He did it harder, I’m not askin’ you to do it harder.”
“Sure, sure,” Avery said. He got both hands on Samberg’s dick, which was beginning to firm up. It was veiny and moist with sweat, and it thrummed with heat and with youthful desire. A shudder ran up from his crotch through Samberg’s spine, and he laughed at himself.
“Shit, man, that feels good. I really needed to bust a nut. There was a guy outside boot camp who did that,” Samberg said. “It was weird.” He looked down. “I only did it once when I was real drunk. I don’t remember it. They said I did it, and I had fifty bucks in my pocket.”
“Fifty?”
“Yeah, He didn’t pay much.”
“Guess I got ripped off offering you five hundred,” Avery said.
“But I’m sober for this.”
“That’s worth four hundred fifty bucks?”
Samberg nodded and shrugged. “You’re the one who decided that.” He groaned, his dick fully erect now, and he moved his hips back and forth to drag the knob over Avery’s face. “Sorry.” He chuckled again.
“Is it okay if I taste it?” Avery asked. He thwacked that meaty erection over his face, chasing it with his tongue.
Private Samberg nodded and blushed a little. “You’re really into that? That’s so weird.” He wrinkled his nose. “Are you a believer that it makes your dick bigger to jack mine off”
Avery shrugged. “Something like that. I don’t know, maybe.” He was noncommittal, but in fact, he was not a believer in that. He just liked jacking off men, and he knew five hundred dollars was more than he needed to offer. He would have offered a hundred if he was being stingy. But he liked Private Samberg and wanted to help out a nice young family.
Avery kneeled between his legs and swallowed Samberg’s shaft down to the root, making Samberg let out a surprised moan like he hadn’t realized this was coming. Avery swallowed it as deep as he could, until his throat clenched and he gagged. Private Samberg took off his camo shirt, revealing a sweat-stained Army t-shirt underneath.
Precum flowed over his lips. It was salty and sweet, and it tasted so good Avery drooled as he gurgled. The moist sounds caused Private Samberg to chuckle, dryly at first, then almost hysterically. The laughter made his muscles gyrate beneath his tight t-shirt and made his cock jab down Avery’s throat.
“Ah shit, I have to use the money you’re paying me on the credit card debt. I won’t be able to buy anything for my daughter,” he said with a groan. “It sucks, my wife had to pay for Christmas for Abigail. I know she’s just a baby… Nevermind, sorry, I don’t wanna think about my daughter when I get a blowjob.”
Avery made a mental note to fix that. He didn’t want to make an awkward situation any more awkward — and his mouth was full — so he didn’t say anything, but he planned to call up and pay Private Samberg’s credit card debt. His wallet was sitting right there, having fallen out of his pocket when he dropped his pants. So Avery found out which bank issued his card and paid the debt later. Private Samberg presumably never found out how or why the bill was paid off.
It was the Christmas season, so Avery was glad to help. Private Samberg’s haggard face leaned back and his worry-wrinkles diminished as he moaned. His crew-cut had grown slightly unruly since he had last tended it, which was probably the last time he had shaved too. Samberg’s muscles rippled beneath his Army-issue t-shirt.
Avery pulled off Samberg’s cock and smacked it against his lips and his tongue hanging out of his open mouth. The sour-salty taste of his unwashed manhood flooded Avery’s senses.
“Hey, you do, uh…” Samberg blushed a deep red, his big hangdog square face looking away from Avery as he whispered, “Cornholin’?”
An excited giggle spread from Avery’s mouth. He nodded. “Sure do. But before we do that…” Avery licked his shaft from tip to root. “I’ll give you another hundred bucks if you let me lick every tattoo you’ve got. I bet you have some tattoos in interesting locations.”
Private Samberg blushed. “I got… Well… Okay…” He blushed an even deeper red. “Uh…” He took off his shirt and sighed. He had an outline of the state of Pennsylvania tattooed over his left pectoral muscle. Avery traced a trail with his tongue, traveling up Samberg’s crotch to his flat belly, his bulging pectoral and the sweat that collected there. He sucked on the tattoo as though trying to vacuum it off his body. Samberg grunted and stiffened his back.
He had barbed wire over his biceps too. The tattoo on his left bicep was complete, and Avery sucked it clean. Samberg even flexed his biceps — cheeks bright red — so Avery could get the full effect. The barbed wire on his right bicep was just the outline, not filled in, but his muscle was even firmer and his sweat even saltier.
“I couldn’t afford to get the tattoo finished,” Samberg said. He chuckled dryly. “The credit card got denied.” He sighed. “And I, uh… I got one more.” This was what made him blush. He undid his camo pants, turned around and bent over — he didn’t do that in a sexy or seductive way, but Avery thought it was even hotter like this, bending over as though letting a doctor take a look at his ass. His big hairy plump cheeks were right in front of Avery’s face.
And right there on the lower part of his left asscheek was a tattoo. It was a red bullseye and words written in elegant cursive. Sergeant Powers made a man out of me and I’ll never be the same.
“I got drunk in San Diego and my buddies made me get this.” He paused and laughed. “Okay, they ain’t really make me do it. But I did it. And so he can’t ever see my ass. He said he gotta approve tattoos before we get them, the Army doesn’t allow a lotta tattoos nowadays. There’s no way he would approve a tattoo telling him to kiss my ass.”
Samberg kept going, but Avery was confused. He kissed the perky firm ass-flesh under the tattoo as he listened to Private Samberg, who explained that his friends had dared him to tattoo the words ‘Sergeant Powers’s Kissing Spot’ on his ass. Those were, however, not the words tattooed there. In fact the message was ‘Sergeant Powers made a man out of me and I’ll never be the same’. It soon became apparent that Private Samberg didn’t know what was on his ass. It was on the lower part of his left cheek, which was round and full and plump — he’d have to get in a very careful position to see it in a mirror, and since it was written in flowing cursive, it wouldn’t be easy to read even then. Samberg must have never read it. His friends had told the tattooist what to do when he was too drunk to remember.
“Part of the dare,” Samberg said with a nervous chuckle, his dick still flopping over Avery’s face, precum sticking to his cheeks and lips. “was that I gotta show him the tattoo now that it’s healed. I keep puttin’ it off. He’s gonna kick my ass, man, I swear. He’s gonna dishonorable discharge me.”
It was a funny story, and it was one that Avery didn’t intend to spoil. He didn’t tell Samberg what his ass really said. He sucked all the furry hairs there — they were thick, dark and kinky because it was the upper part of his thigh. Then Avery plopped his face into Samberg’s asscheeks.
“Oh, shit, man… I ain’t got no tattoos in there, man, but if you wanna lick my ass…” He laughed nervously and gulped. He was bent over, grabbing his ankles, his face was already red from both blushing and blood running to his head. His eyes opened wide and he looked up to see Avery’s face disappear in his ass.
He looked like he was about to laugh, but as soon as he opened his mouth, Avery’s tongue tickled his prostate and Samberg let out a spine-tingling moan. It was loud enough that, if anyone had been awake near the bathroom, they would have heard. Avery probed Samberg’s ass with his tongue, while Samberg grunted as though it felt so good it hurt.
“Goddamn, man!” He bit his lip.
Avery giggled. Samberg’s as, tasted like his battered Army-issue green boxer shorts smelled: musty and salty and savory and so delicious Avery could have cum just from the smell. He pulled away and massaged Samberg’s hairy crack with one finger. It was wet and dripping.
Samberg barked when Avery’s finger touched his asshole. He jumped back up and turned around, his fat cock rock-hard and throbbing as it slapped Avery over the cheek.
“Ah, damn, I wasn’t expectin’ that to feel so good,” Samberg said. His voice was extra-deep as he puffed up his chest. His words resonated in the linoleum-tiled bathroom. He laughed a little. “But don’t put your finger in there, that’s… weird.”
Avery smiled. “Sure, no problem. I wasn’t going to stick it in. A lot of guys are into that anyway, y’know-“
“Not me.” He glowered. He watched Avery slather spit on his cockshaft. He hadn’t really watched before, because his eyes were closed, but he was a little less nervous now. Now, his eyes bugged out. “Damn, you really go deep. My wife don’t suck like that. No way. She got the world’s tiniest mouth. You should see her eat a hot dog. Takes an hour and a half.”
That made Avery laugh. “Maybe I’ll come watch that sometime.” Once he had slobbered saliva all over Private Samberg’s throbbing crack, he decided it was time to move on. Samberg looked down to watch as though it was the climax of a scary movie and he wanted to look away but couldn’t. “Now we get to the best part,” Avery said with a laugh at the expression on Samberg’s face.
Samberg groaned and moaned. Though he looked tense and nervous, he was also excited. It was obvious he was horny and he wanted this. He kept his hands away as he watched Avery bare his ass.
Avery turned around and backed his ass up. He spread his cheeks. Private Samberg looked away, groaning and moaning as his cock slid into Avery’s ass. At first Samberg didn’t touch him at all, like he couldn’t bear to feel a man’s ass for even a moment. His hands sort of fluttered behind himself, like he was balancing on a wire and almost falling off the other way. He watched Avery’s ass break open, while Avery let out a moan of desire as a surge of pleasure and pain hit him in equal portions.
“Aw, man, man, man,” Samberg’s voice broke, as he too felt a surge of pleasure. No pain though. He finally did touch Avery’s ass with one hand, then let go as though someone scolded him. “Aww, man… that feels good!” He again sounded very surprised at that, like he thought it would be painful. “It feels real good!”
“I know,” Avery said through clenched teeth, as he struggled to take Samberg’s girthy cock.
That didn’t last long though. The first time Samberg’s cock encountered a little resistance, he grunted and his muscles flexed all at once. One of his hands grabbed his own manhood, while his other hit Avery hard on the back, pushing his shoulders down. He pulled Avery’s cheeks up to match Samberg’s height a little better.
His dick was big and veiny, thick, long, throbbing, perfect like it was sculpted to fill Avery’s body. Avery let out a long low moan and leaned back until he felt Samberg’s cold dog tag resting against his back, and his broad chest muscles rippled against Avery’s smooth shoulders. Avery grabbed it and sucked on it too, just to get the stainless steel taste and the stale sweat that collected there onto his tongue.
“Damn, you make sounds…” Private Samberg said. In this position, Avery couldn’t see his face, but it was clear Samberg was blushing again. He cleared his throat. “My wife is so quiet during sex. The first time we did it, I thought she fell asleep or somethin’. She said I fuck real good-“
“Private Samberg, I’m going to give you an order,” Avery said breathily. He gasped. He had to focus intently to form any words at all. “Stop talking about your wife and stick it in me.”
“Oh, yeah, sorry.” He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “I just love her so much, sorry, sorry. Sorry. Shit…” His hot breath condensed on Avery’s nape.
Avery kept pushing his ass backwards, basically penetrating himself with Samberg’s cock. But the more they both got into this, the more comfortable Samberg became. Soon Samberg was pounding into Avery just as hard as Avery penetrated himself with Samberg’s cock.
And then, at last, Avery could do little more than submit. He leaned back so that he rested his face on Samberg’s ropy-muscled chest. He was ensconced in Samberg’s powerful arms, licking and suckling on his frizzy-haired muscle. He got another taste of both those barbed-wire tattoos, both the finished one and the unfinished one — in a flash of charitable thinking, Avery promised himself he’d send enough money to finish the other tattoo, then decided not to, he already didn’t know how much credit card debt he’d be paying off, and it wasn’t like the world was waiting for yet another barbed-wire-on-bicep tattoo. But it did taste so sexy when he sucked Samberg’s curly arm-hairs and licked the bulging tattooed muscle there. His wife was a very lucky woman.
“Oh god, cum inside me, please, soldier, fill me up…”
His cringing, begging tone made Samberg laugh just as he reached an orgasm. His whole body bucked and spasmed, and his chest muscles tensed against Avery’s back. For one glorious moment that seemed to last an eternity, Avery experienced a jaw-dropping orgasm that began in his prostate and exploded outward in every direction.
A fat load of cum flew into Avery’s ass. Private Samberg moaned, his hot breath condensing on the back of Avery’s head. Avery had never felt smaller or weaker, buried in Samberg’s muscles all around him. The cum filling up his ass was hot and thick, and it seeped into Avery’s flesh.
“Oh fuck, yeah…” Avery stroked himself off and shot his own load onto the floor of the bathroom. He still had Samberg’s dog tags over his face, so he got another burst of old-sweat flavor as he sucked it clean.
He moaned again, and rubbed his back against Private Samberg’s strapping chest. Private Samberg grunted into his ear. The smell of his sweat-soaked shirt enveloped Avery as he experienced one of the most intense orgasms of his life. Spasms of bliss wracked his body.
Finally Private Samberg stepped back and gingerly pulled his cock out. He looked down at it like he was terrified of what he saw as he wiped it clean with a bit of toilet paper. He grimaced, then smiled and grunted.
“You had better pay me, man,” he said. “And that extra hundred dollars. Don’t stiff me, man.”
“I won’t, I have to too much respect for your service to our country,” Avery said with a sigh as he cleaned himself off. When he was done, he pulled out his wallet and counted out the money. Avery saluted and grinned, before handing over six hundred dollars.
“Uh, sure, yeah, no problem, man,” Private Samberg said with a blush. He took the money and saluted back. “Thanks too, for your help. I had a good Christmas after all.”

The Catcaller

When Avery sees a swagger-heavy thug catcalling women, he intervenes to help, because he’s a good feminist… and because he loves alpha male ebony manhood! That gives him a chance to turn the tables and taste Jaycee’s hot, throbbing ass!

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

“Woo-hoo! Hey, girl! Hey!”
The black men on the stoop fell over each other laughing when the girl quickened her pace and hurried away. One of them stepped forward and wolf-whistled after her.
That was the one with the most masculine shape and face. He was Jaycee. He was tall, with short braids and a powerful body.
He was gloriously thick. That was why Avery liked him. Avery loved any man with a massive, incredible ass, and Jaycee’s was bigger and plumper than seemed possible. He was a naturally heavyset man but worked out enough to keep himself an imposing figure, not fat at all, just hefty and curved and chunky in all the right ways.
He turned around, aiming his ass at one of his buddies. His jeans sagged low, so about half of his asscheeks were covered by nothing more than yellow boxers. He patted his ass, making his own cheeks jiggle and his friends laugh — he must have been making some kind of point about how nice his ass was, Avery thought, and how much girls wanted to taste his badonkadonk. It wasn’t a fantastic ass at all. Avery appreciated it, but it was not a Hollywood-hunk ass, not the kind of thing people would normally brag about.
It was juicy as hell though. Avery keenly appreciated the male physique, of which Jaycee’s was a remarkable specimen.
Avery took a few steps towards Jaycee, but then another girl appeared on the street. Avery cursed under his breath — he couldn’t hardly bait a man with a girl around. He didn’t want to attract attention by turning around, so he kept going, walking past Jaycee and the other black men hanging out on the stoop.
“Hey, girl, what’s ya deal? Huh?” Jaycee’s deep voice was low and resonant. The woman looked at him like she considered answering. Jaycee lifted his shirt to show off his chest and laughed — he didn’t have that kind of body, he had a little pudge and a big broad chest like a gladiator, not a six-pack. “Give a playa a squeeze, c’mon! Lemme holla!”
She walked away with a shake of her head.
“Tease.” Jaycee grunted and turned around again. As he did, he grabbed his cock through his jeans, and Avery saw the outline of it.
Avery kept going, now walking funny because his own dick got hard. He still hadn’t come up with a very good plan to get Jaycee alone somewhere so he could proposition him.
When Avery turned around — pretending to wait for a bus — he saw Jaycee pantomiming sex to his friends. He patted an imaginary girl on the ass as he pistoned his hips, ramming his dick in and out of her. Then he said something that made his friends laugh as though they were disgusted by him. Jaycee smirked and mimed out spreading wide asscheeks in front of his face, as though he was going to lick the ass of a truly gigantic woman. He even extended his tongue, licking her imaginary asshole.
Or was it her pussy? Avery had to giggle as he tried to gauge whether Jaycee was spreading imaginary buttcheeks or pussy-flaps. Avery hardly knew how one went about eating pussy. Was it like that? He didn’t think so, he thought that was ass. He had said something about a rimjob before as well, which got Avery excited — maybe Jaycee enjoyed receiving rimjobs as much as Avery enjoyed giving them.
Maybe he didn’t much care who gave him a rimjob. That thought sent a shiver of anticipation up Avery’s spine.
Indeed, as Avery got on the bus, he saw a girl approach Jaycee. She was thick, a little older than the ones Jaycee had been hooting at, with a lot of makeup on her face. Jaycee looked at her hungrily but shared an annoyed glance at his friends.
Avery didn’t need to be there to pick up on the subtext — the woman was not sexy. She was fat, and not in a good way, and she had limp, greasy hair and a broad, squat face. She wasn’t ugly, but she was hardly a hottie. She came up to Jaycee and teasingly fingered the waistband of his boxers. Jaycee looked aloof, like he didn’t want his friends to know he had already messed with her.
Then Avery couldn’t see because the bus had gone around the corner. Avery sighed. He waited until the next bus-stop, then got off and walked back to the stoop.
“Hey, baby, I’ll lick yo’ asshole if you lick mine! Hey! You a tease or what?!” Jaycee’s deep voice called out. At first Avery thought Jaycee was calling at him, and Avery was shocked, exhilarated, excited. He’d had dreams that began similar to this.
But no, there was a hot girl behind Avery. She quickened her pace, crossed the street and ignored Jaycee. Avery blushed. He had just walked past Jaycee, then gotten on a bus and stared as it drove past Jaycee in the other direction, and now he was back again to walk past him once more; even through all that, Jaycee didn’t seem to realize this was the third time he had seen Avery.
“Hey,” Avery said. He blushed and made sure to speak in a feminine manner. The men snorted softly. Jaycee lit a foul-smelling cigar — a Black & Mild — and he glared at Avery. “I’m Avery.”
Jaycee took a deep drag and exhaled right on Avery’s face. “Huh.”
“I heard you like rimjobs?”
Jaycee stopped with the cigar in his hand. His mouth was full of smoke. He again exhaled on Avery’s face. “What?”
“You’ve been asking girls to lick your ass. Does that ever work?”
Jaycee scowled as his friends laughed. Someone slapped Jaycee’s ass through his pimp-heavy jeans. He looked like he wanna say something but his homies kept interrupting him by busting on him.
“Jaycee’s got a fat girl-“
“Nigga, shut up-“
“She real thick and she lick his ass-“
“I said shut up, you don’t gotta tell the nerd my business-“
“She ugly as fuck too, she was just here-“
“She smell like asshole-“
“How much asshole she lick e’ry day man?”
“One!” Jaycee growled at his buddies. He sucked on his teeth and cocked his head to the side with a confident shrug. His pecs rippled like he thought he had a perfect physique and she was showing it off like a stripper, but the rippling of his muscles just accentuated the chunkiness of his body. “Nigga… It don’t matter when you got a tongue in ya asshole-“
“But you got ya tongue in her asshole too-“
“Nigga, shut up!”
“That’s nasty. She prolly tastes like Taco Bell.”
“I seen that bitch wit’ a stain on her shirt on the small of her back, like right above her ass, like a brownish-green stain, like baby poop, she been poopin’ on her shirt-“
“You know she nasty-“
“Shaniqua say that fat bitch once took a shit at the McDonald’s and it was huge, it like overflowed the toilet rim and there was a rat in it-“
“Nuh-uh, nigga, shut up-“
“You lickin’ that ugly bitch-“
“You seen her makeup? She look like a ho tryin’ to use up all her makeup so her pimp’ll buy her more-“
“She look like a shaved bear, man, you sure she ain’t-!”
“Shut up!” Jaycee roared. He pounded on his chest. “Swear to God, nigga, no disrespect, but I’ll fuck e’ry one of you shitwipes up! Say that shit again.”
There was a long awkward silence. Then someone tittered, “She got Godzilla-feet.”
Jaycee growled and stepped towards his friend. “Nigga, I will wallop you, c’m’ere! I told you it don’t matter what she look like. You can’t even see her face when she lick yo’ asshole-“
“You lick her asshole, Jaycee! She said it-!”
“Yeah, well, a real nigga do what it takes to get his dick wet, man, she just — it’s all pink on the inside.”
“You sure she ain’t all greenish-brown on the inside? Cuz you’d know.”
“Yeah, Jaycee, just stick your tongue out so we can see what her insides look like-“
They stopped talking suddenly because there was a droning blare. They all turned around to see a police car pull to a stop. A whoop-whoop siren called filled the air. Laughter ceased, and all the men on the stoop suddenly looked serious. The men all shuffled to stand with their backs to the wall, while Avery gulped.
“Excuse me, gentlemen, is there a problem here?” a cop stepped out of the car. “We’ve received reports of offensive whistling and fighting on the stoop. Women claim you’ve been making lewd offers and accusations. Somebody was grabbing their crotch so women could see their cock?”
Nobody answered at first. They all looked at each other. A few of them glared at Jaycee. He was the one who really took it too far. He was no doubt the one the complainer had been talking about. But Jaycee looked innocent as a cartoon bear, sitting there on the stoop, casual as could be, as though he was merely contemplating the city street and didn’t even notice the cops glaring at the men on the stoop.
Then Avery cleared his throat and said, “Yes, that’s right, Officer. There was a problem with a man here wolf-whistling at females. I was very offended by it, because I think women are goddesses. But I went to get my friends, and Jaycee here scared the man away. Jaycee has tremendous respect for women. He’s my hero.” Avery wrapped one arm around Jaycee’s broad waist. Jaycee twitched but didn’t argue it. “A real feminist champion.”
“Is that so?” The cop chewed on his lip. It seemed like he didn’t entirely believe Avery, but he didn’t have any proof he was lying.
“It is. Women are great,” Avery said. “They do, like… so many important things. Babies. And, uh…” In the heat of the moment, Avery couldn’t think of any other activities to list — he didn’t want to say something sexist like “sewing”, so in the end, all he said was, “and work. Working jobs. At… workplaces.”
“Uh-huh.” The cop grunted. He rolled his eyes. “Fine. I don’t really give a shit. If I get more complaints about hollerin’ at females, I’ll rumble the lot of you, capiche?”
“I’ll keep Jaycee busy,” Avery said. He took Jaycee by the hand and led him into the building, past his friends, who eyed him suspiciously. It looked like they wanted to keep teasing Jaycee, but then the officer made a harsh face at them. They quietly scattered in all directions, leaving Jaycee and Avery alone to enter the building.
“Shit, man,” Jaycee said when they got in. He took his hand back so Avery wasn’t holding it anymore. “Thanks. You good at gettin’ rid of cops.”
“The cops here are dumb,” Avery said. He smiled. “So… what I was asking before, back when your friends-“
“Just so you know, I don’t lick that bitch’s asshole. She nasty. She smell like movie theatre popcorn,” Jaycee said. He sounded defensive and lying, but Avery just nodded like he believed it. It’s no skin off Avery’s bones. He thought it was kind of hot, and he’d have enjoyed watching Jaycee lick out that woman’s ass.
He’d prefer to watch Jaycee lick out a more attractive, or at least cleaner, woman’s ass, but still, it’d be hot either way.
“Well…” Avery blushed. He held his fingers in front of his mouth in a little circle and inserted his tongue in it. He was about to verbally offer a rimjob when one of the apartment doors opened, and a little old lady stalked out, glaring at Jaycee.
She looked at Avery and muttered, “Whiteboy crackhead motherfucker.” She hobbled through the mess of men, who parted for her. She glared at them too.
“Why does she think I’m a crackhead?” Avery said when she was gone.
“Cuz you a whiteboy,” Jaycee said. “Ain’t no other reason you’d be here.” He chuckled. “You sayin’ you wanna lick my asshole?”
Avery nodded. “I wanna lick it real bad. I’ll lick your ass so good…” He stuck his tongue out to demonstrate how long it was — he had an abnormally long tongue.
“Ah — shit!” Jaycee’s brow was furrowed, then his eyes opened wide. He had been going to tell Avery to fuck off, but seeing that tongue sent a shiver of arousal up his spine. That was amazing. Girls could usually barely get their tongue in his ass at all. Jaycee liked it deep, but most girls were unable or unwilling to do that — Jaycee’s ass was thicker than their heads were deep, so their tongues barely reached his asshole at all. The only reason he messed with that ugly, fat woman was that she had a nice big tongue like Avery’s and it could reach well into Jaycee’s asshole. That’s going to feel so good inside me. He might not even make me take a shower first. He smiled.
“I’ll give you a hundred bucks if you let me lick it,” Avery said. He smiled and touched Jaycee’s chest through the white tee shirt he wore. Then his finger dropped lower to Jaycee’s waist.
Jaycee slapped his hand away. “Quit talkin’, whiteboy, you gonna attract attention.” He scowled. “Yeah, fine, but quit actin’ all fairy in public. C’mon. You ain’t comin’ in my place.” He pointed to a utility closet at the end of the hall. It was locked, but Jaycee had long ago learned that there was a spare key behind the fire extinguisher.
He unlocked the door and they quietly crept in. They were just in time too, because a whole family came in the building then and would have seen. The door had just latched though, and Avery’s heart raced.
The utility closet was spartan, just a few shelves with paint cans and some odds and ends, a row of four hot-water heaters, and a fuse box near the ceiling. The floor in here was cold cement.
“Awright, whiteboy, if you wanna lick butt, lick some butt,” Jaycee said with a throaty chuckle. He turned around and lowered his pants and boxers, just enough to bare his ass, like he didn’t really think he would enjoy this. He stood there, upright and motionless.
He had a ridiculous badonkadonk, Avery thought when he jiggled the cheeks. Jaycee scowled but allowed it — he didn’t get anything out of Avery playing with his cheeks, but since Avery was paying, he figured he couldn’t complain too much even if it was boring. His cheeks rippled, each one bigger than Avery’s head. The soft brown skin was hairless, slick with the day’s sweat that clung to his body.
Avery sucked down each droplet of sweat he could reach. It was salty and sour and it smelled of coconut — presumably from Jaycee’s soap — but more overwhelmingly of funky manflesh. It had that savory meatiness that Avery loved. He moistly, noisily kissed every inch of his cheeks.
“Will you bend over-?”
“Nah. I stand.” Jaycee grunted like that was a firm rule Avery should have already known. He hadn’t planned on refusing to bend over — he knew he would get a better rimjob if he did — but he was becoming more self-conscious. He didn’t want to feel like some trashy street hustler, and he didn’t want to get on all fours for a white man. “Ya ain’t makin’ me bend over.”
Avery shrugged. He knew Jaycee would bend over soon. They always did.
He spread Jaycee’s cheeks and let his tongue flicker over the crack. He didn’t get deep in there, just tickled him a bit until Jaycee shook. Then Avery plunged his tongue in deeper.
And deeper still, until finally his tongue was all the way in, sliding up and down his crack. There was a little hair there, coarse and black and stinking of ass. Avery inhaled deeply of it — the sound of him sniffing made Jaycee laugh, which in turn made his cheeks shake. He had bent forward just a little bit by then, out of instinct, but didn’t notice it.
“You gonna lick me fo’ real, man?” Jaycee said. “Cuz you just playin’ wit’ it right now. If you was a female who wasn’t payin’, I’d be tellin’ you to hurry up and get to it. I ain’t need someone licking my cheeks, damn.”
“I was just getting you ready,” Avery said. He hocked up a big mouth full of spit right onto the small of Jaycee’s back, so it slid down his crack. The fetid aroma of saliva hit Avery’s senses. “You want my tongue in your ass?”
Jaycee sniffled like he didn’t care. “You payin’, man. Do what you want.” Then he hastened to add, “wit’ ya tongue! I ain’t — you ain’t stickin’ nothin’ else in there.”
“Right.” Avery teased his tongue over the rim, making Jaycee shudder and shake. His asshole was so sensitive, Avery thought with a smile, this was going to be fun.
Avery had a pierced tongue, and the little stud, which was barely noticeable, had a big effect on his rimjobs. Avery would never tell a man like Jaycee why, but it was essentially a tiny dildo. So when Avery licked the funky tight rim of Jaycee’s ass, his metal stud hit the sensitive flesh of his sphincter and Jaycee howled.
He covered his mouth to avoid making too much noise. Jaycee gasped. A wave of pleasure crashed over him. He wiggled, lowering his ass to give Avery a better angle of access — that also bent Jaycee over a little more.
Avery stuck his tongue in slowly. He could have plunged all the way in at once — tongues were soft enough they could squeeze into the tightest of virginal holes — but Avery preferred to go slow, to give himself time to taste it all.
In no time, Jaycee was bending over more and more, until at last he was on all fours. He held his breath, the pressure in his ass incredible. For a moment he couldn’t decide if he liked it or not — did it hurt? A little, he thought, but there something else he could feel too: ticklishness? Soreness?
He grunted and yelped like a puppy. A jolt of pleasure hit him so hard it hurt. Jaycee bit his tongue. He’d never gotten a rimjob like this. He turned his head to look, and Avery’s whiteboy face was entirely invisible, buried by Jaycee’s thickness.
“Shit, boy, goddamn-” Jaycee wrenched his head back and forth, nearly slamming it on the concrete. He pulled his shirt up higher when it threatened to interfere with the rimjob.
Avery lapped at his insides and at last reached full penetration. He had to spread Jaycee’s cheeks with both hands, and each cheek was so thick and fleshy it was like holding back the sea. Avery had to dig into his flesh, and luckily Jaycee’s asshole felt so good he didn’t worry about Avery’s claw-like fingers holding his ass apart.
“Goddamn-” Jaycee was breathless and mewling. He was unable to prevent himself from being loud, but that didn’t matter so much because the sensations roiling his body were so intense he couldn’t think anyway.
He only now realized he had gotten on all fours, with his ass high in the air and his face on the floor — he had started this off thinking this position was humiliating; he had refused to do it, and now he couldn’t dream of doing it in any other position. It gave Avery perfect access to him. Jaycee couldn’t bring himself to move. Every motion he made intensified the feelings throughout his body, and he was unable to handle it.
He panted and gasped, while Avery laughed at the potency of his reactions. Avery finally reached between Jaycee’s thunder thighs, under that deliciously juicy badonkadonk butt, to grab Jaycee’s dick.
He didn’t need to stroke it for long. Jaycee’s prostate was being stimulated like he had never experienced, with Avery’s pierced tongue battering it over and over. Jaycee shook like he was having a seizure, and he bit his own lip hard enough to draw blood.
“Goddamn, eat that ass, man, shit, goddamn, goddamn!” He shouted the best he could into the concrete floor. He pounded on it with his fists.
Finally an orgasm hit him. It felt like Avery had been rusty-tromboning him for hours, but he knew it hadn’t been that long — Avery had actually only stroked Jaycee off for barely two minutes. The rimjob had brought him to the brink of orgasm even before he handled Jaycee’s cock.
It occurred to Jaycee only when he rolled over and rammed his spasming knob into Avery’s mouth that he shouldn’t be letting Avery slurp him off — Avery hadn’t paid for that, and Jaycee could probably get more money for it.
But it was too late. Jaycee just wanted to cum, and he knew Avery would want to swallow it. He rammed his dick all the way in, in one smooth motion, pistoning his hips and forcing it until Avery gagged and Jaycee’s balls slammed against his chin.
Avery clutched Jaycee’s asscheeks tightly, holding on as Jaycee ground his dick within Avery’s throat. “Goddamn, ya fuckin’ whiteboy, you got… shit… aw, goddamn! Holy fuck!” Jaycee knew it didn’t make him look tough to have a really animated orgasm with a man — but he couldn’t help it.
It was the most powerful climax of his life. No girl had ever made him feel like this.
He howled and pounded on his sweat-covered chest. He knew he was being too loud now, everyone in the building could probably hear, but he didn’t care. He gripped Avery’s head and swayed his dick back and forth in his throat, smiling at the sight of Avery choking on it.
Mountains of cum spilled out of his mouth and onto the cement floor. There was more cum than Jaycee thought possible — and am I still cumming?! He thought so — and his ass felt wet too, like there was still spit flowing out of there.
A loud heave escaped from Jaycee’s lips as he let go of Avery’s head and fell back, sitting his bare ass on the moist puddle of fluids on the floor. That was gross, so he rolled over, while Avery collapsed back the other way, then rolled towards Jaycee. Before Jaycee had even taken a deep breath, Avery had rested his head on Jaycee’s plump asscheek.
His big brown orbs arose like hilltops. Avery giggled and kissed each one once again. Jaycee’s ass smelled like spit and cum now. Avery slurped up whatever fluids he could, while Jaycee lay limp and groaning on the floor.
“Shit, man…” Jaycee let out a throaty laugh. “You ain’t gonna tell no one about this, right?”
“No way,” Avery said. He smirked. “But if you know any guys who want a rimjob, send ‘em to me. Don’t tell them I pay. I’ll tell them you refused, because you get so many hot chicks licking your ass all the time.”
Jaycee nodded. “Fine.” When Avery took out his wallet to give him a hundred dollars, Jaycee took the wallet. He removed all of the cash in there — a hundred and forty bucks — and gave it back. “There. I ain’t say you could touch my dick, so I’m takin’ the extra forty for that.”
“I didn’t ask for that!” Avery said with a laugh. He kept caressing those bare cheeks as he talked. “You just stuck it in my mouth.”
Jaycee shrugged. “You still gotta pay,” he said. “Get off me.” He stood, pushing Avery to the ground. He was embarrassed now, smiling shame-facedly. He pulled his pants up and tucked his dick away. He opened the door a crack, made sure no one was out there and slipped out. He made eye contact with Avery before going. He put a finger to his lips. “Hey, call me first next time.”

The Bodybuilding Coach Bottoms

When the tutor Donovan is approached by some football jocks, he thought he’d be servicing their hot, throbbing needs… But it turns out they have another plan! Coach Mike Bagworth has lost a bet, which means the whole team gets to watch as Bagworth endures a twink on top!

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here

As he walked into the locker room, a part of Donovan was worried that this was all a trick. He was used to being pranked and teased by the seniors, the jocks and the bullies at Goldendale Hills University, and the three guys who had come to get him were all of those things. They simply said that Coach Bagworth needed him and that Donovan was to come with them.
Coach Bagworth was the head of the athletic department at GHU, and Donovan had jacked him off a couple times. Bagworth was in charge of the whole department, but he actually coached football. Football was the only sport that mattered at GHU. The only sport that mattered to Donovan, on the other hand, was gymnastics — he was here at GHU on a gymnastics scholarship.
The only reason Donovan didn’t believe right away that he was being pranked was that all three were shirtless, covered in sweat from the practice they had just finished. They were three big buff black studs who made Donovan’s knees weak. He was so distracted it wasn’t until he was in the men’s locker room that he began to get nervous. The football players wore shorts that barely concealed their jockstraps, no shirt, their bare chests dappled with sweat — it looked like they had just finished a practice when they came to get Donovan.
“Come on in here,” said one of them, snickering as he showed Donovan to the lockers.
But he hadn’t even known that he was going to the locker room when he followed the three black jocks. His heart started pounding as he realized that’s where they were going, and his heart nearly leapt out of his chest when he saw the entire football team clustered at one end of the locker room. This was a prank, wasn’t it?
“There he is, you ready, Coach?!”
“He’s fuckin’ tiny! What’s he weigh, like eighty pounds?”
“I could lift him with my cock.”
They all whooted and hollered as though they were excited to see Donovan, who didn’t know any of them. They all sat there in their jockstraps and not much more.
Hair and beefy muscle spilled out everywhere, and the best thing about it was the way they touched each other. Men crowded onto narrow benches, their bare asses spilling out from their jockstraps and touching their neighbors’s sweaty bottoms. A few of them rested their arms around their buddies’s broad shoulders, and as Donovan walked in, that gigantic Samoan linebacker Poahi goosed his buddy’s ass, making everyone around him laugh.
Coach Bagworth was in the back of the locker room, against a wall. He wore the same shorts and shoes, no shirt, as the players, though he wasn’t sweaty like they were. Donovan didn’t really care for football, but Coach Bagworth was famous in his heyday — and he still retained his professional athlete figure. It was slightly concealed by a thin layer of pudge, which was just the right amount as far as Donovan was concerned. He had a few tattoos inked on his chest, dismal gray ones mostly, but there was a brilliantly colored American flag as well, and a large football on his belly.
The players only stopped the hooting when Coach Bagworth lifted one hand up and snarled as though he was going to order them to run laps. Their booming voices and chortling laughter faded away. Donovan’s heart pounded, and his dick stiffened in his pants, from anxiety, from horniness at the sight of so many nearly-naked football jocks, and from arousal at the smell of their untreated musk, overflowing jockstraps exuding their intoxicating scent into the humid air of the locker room.
“Donovan… right? That’s your name? You’re on the gymnastics team.”
“That’s right.” Donovan smiled. Coach Bagworth was pretending to not know Donovan well, even though Donovan had jerked him off — and more — on numerous occasions. Donovan wasn’t surprised. Most men he serviced did the same.
“He got swishy hips and everything!”
“Lookit him, he’s drooling and shit!”
“Well, Donovan… You may know we won an important game last night. A game that I… before the game, I said I ain’t think we would win. Nobody thought we had a chance, they was s’posed to be a better team, so I told the team I ain’t expect much from ’em,” he said. He took off his GHU cap and lowered his head. “For that I’m sorry. I was wrong. I should’ve had faith in my boys.”
They cheered and pumped their fists. Donovan saw that one, a six-packed white redneck in the front row, grabbed at his crotch as though his dick was hard. What was going on here? Donovan thought the air was filled with tension.
“And, uh… I made a bet,” Coach Bagworth said with a chest-rattling sigh. “A bet I gotta pay up on right now.”
“What bet, Coach Bagworth?” Donovan asked. He was trying to butch it up the best he could — he simply didn’t think it was a good idea to be flamboyant here in the locker room.
“Tell ‘im Coach!”
“His lack of faith was disturbing!”
“I bet these motherfuckers that they’d lose,” Coach Bagworth said over the nervous giggling of his players, his voice grim and pained. “And they proved me wrong. What I bet was… my ass.”
“What?”
“I’m gonna give it up. You can stick it me, Donovan, any way you want,” he said. “Right here in front of these fuckers. The only rule is that we never mention this again. It don’t leave this locker room. That’s why they picked you, cuz you got a reputation for being a discrete… person.”
“Take it, Coach!”
“Oh my god, are you for real?” Donovan asked. His eyes opened wide. But no one could hear him over the sudden eruption of masculine laughter and good-natured jeering. Someone pushed him forward, again and again until Donovan stumbled into Coach Bagworth’s chest. Donovan got a faceful of chest hair, meaty pectoral muscles and weary flesh that tasted of cocoa-butter soap.
“Stick him! Stick him! Stick him!”
“Make him like it!”
Coach Bagworth again held one hand up for silence. The football players all dutifully did quiet down, though an underhushing of jeers and cheers filled the locker room. Bagworth looked dourly down at Donovan and rolled his eyes as though considering backing out now. But he didn’t. He just raised his eyebrows as though asking how to get started.
“Uh… Well, do you… uh? I mean… will you… uh, let me… lick… and-“
“You gotta just tell him what to do, man!”
“He’ll do anything you want!”
Donovan blushed as the players all laughed. Donovan took a deep breath. He knew he was going to look like an idiot if he didn’t develop some confidence. He sighed and took off his shirt. He was about to drop his pants, then smiled and told Coach Bagworth to do it.
“Oh damn, shit’s getting real. Drop those pants, Coach!”
“Do it! Do it!”
Coach Bagworth dropped to his knees, sighing as the locker room slowly filled with silence, everyone watching with baited breath. It seemed a lot of players still thought Coach was going to back out, but he didn’t. Coach Bagworth had massive sausage-like fingers and he fumbled with the tiny button of Donovan’s jeans. They were tight, so he had to shimmy them down to Donovan’s ankles.
Everyone burst into laughter again at the sight of Donovan’s bright pink briefs. He wouldn’t have worn them if he knew he’d be baring them in front of football jocks. Donovan was so small and twinkish in comparison to everybody here — likely he weighed a third of anyone else in the locker room. Donovan felt small and weak in comparison, but that wasn’t a bad feeling for him. Donovan preferred to be among massive men with big meaty manhoods, and his own trim, almost feminine, body helped to allure them.
“Honey, you better start licking before you take my drawers off, cuz I don’t think you can handle jumping right into it. My dick is not for beginners,” Donovan said when things had quieted down enough for him to be heard. That caused another uproaring of laughter, and that Samoan Poahi clasped him on the back as Coach Bagworth closed his eyes and kissed Donovan on the bulge of his underwear. Donovan shuddered in anticipation at the feel of the Samoan’s giant jock hands on Donovan’s smooth shoulders.
Coach’s thick lips planted on Donovan’s dick through his pink briefs. That sent a shiver of pleasure up avery’s spine. Coach Bagworth looked away as though he was going to gag, but then he didn’t. He licked the entire length of Donovan’s dick through those briefs and rolled his eyes at the rollicking players in front of him.
“He kissed it!”
“How’s that taste, Coach?”
“Fo’ us it taste like victory. For him, it taste like defeat!”
Donovan moved away and leaned against the wall, forcing Coach Bagworth to turn around. That meant Donovan faced the rest of the team, who were now mostly standing, clustered so close together their bodies were pressed against each other, hands gripping each other, jockstrap-clad cocks dragging against each other’s bare asses. They all crowded in together so they could see their coach’s humiliation.
Donovan cleared his throat. “You know, boys, it’s considered rude to watch without taking your cocks out,” he said. “I wanna see all your meat.” They laughed, nervously this time, but one by one they did take off their jockstraps, their cocks flopping like limp baseball bats, while Coach Bagworth slowly lowered Donovan’s pink briefs. Donovan’s erection popped free. They all hesitated to drop their jockstraps at first because no one wanted to be first — what if they accidentally got hard? — but once someone had done it, no one wanted to look self-conscious either, so they all did it.
“God damn, boy, I was not expectin’ that,” Coach Bagworth said when he saw Donovan’s big dick. Donovan blushed and thwacked his dick across Coach Bagworth’s embarrassed face. Coach frowned and turned around. “You fellahs said you picked him cuz he was discrete. You actually picked him cuz he got a big dick, ain’tcha?. He gonna tear my ass up.”
“Swallow it, Coach! Swallow it deep!”
True to his word, Coach Bagworth opened his mouth and let Donovan’s bare dick plump down his throat. He gagged loudly, and his bristly beard hair scratched against Donovan’s shaved crotch. Donovan sucked in his breath, as bursts of pleasure exploded throughout his petiteness.
“Oh damn, he doin’ it! Coach is swallowin’ dick!”
The players realized that Donovan was aroused by the sight of their naked bodies. Some of them were embarrassed and covered their dicks with their hands but otherwise flexed their biceps and wrapped their hands around each other’s backs, showing off their pecs and sweat-dappled shoulders.
“Slam ‘is face, Donovan! Make him take it like a porn star!”
As the players egged him on, Donovan gradually lost his inhibitions. He wrapped his hands around Coach Bagworth’s fat head and ground his hips until he could get his entire dick down there. The pleasure running up and down his spine was incredible, mind-melting, making it hard for Donovan to focus on the entire football team standing naked before him.
They all were so close that their dicks touched each other. Every few minutes someone angrily demanded someone else quit touching them with their cock, and a fight almost broke out. But they were too glad to see Coach Bagworth humiliated to stop watching and fight. Donovan spied a few dicks twitching and growing half-hard.
Everywhere Donovan looked he saw a naked body, in every shade of brown, pink and tan. He writhed, his knees buckling as his crotch sent waves of pleasure through his twiggy limbs. He tried to pound Coach Bagworth like the team kept demanding, but he was too weak, not to mention too small, so he could do little more than stand there as Coach guzzled his dick deeply.
Precum flowed down Coach Bagworth’s throat, making him gag and sputter over the din of his cheering players. Coach Bagworth snarled around the cock in his gullet. Donovan gasped and trembled at the incredible pleasure wracking his body so powerfully it almost hurt.
“Make him gag, Donovan!”
“Woot-woot! He’s really doin’ it!”
“Never thought he’d go through with it…”
Coach Bagworth was more than a foot taller and at least a hundred and fifty pounds heavier than Donovan, making it awkward for him to reach Donovan’s dick with his mouth. Even being on his knees wouldn’t be enough, he had to stoop as low as he could go. The more he swallowed, the more he shifted until he was nearly laying on his belly, just lifting his head up far enough to reach Donovan’s crotch.
That left his plump ass, beneath his dingy gray shorts, ready for Donovan to slam it in. He could have cum down Coach Bagworth’s throat anytime, but Donovan knew he’d likely never have the chance to pound a football coach like him in the ass ever again and he didn’t want to give that up. He concentrated on backing away from his climax, while his cock throbbed and his hands explored Bagworth’s well-muscled chest and thighs. Donovan wanted to reach down and feel up Coach’s ass, but he was too short to reach, so all he could do was caress the meaty muscle of his back.
“Alright, Coach Bagworth, stand up, turn around and grab your ankles,” Donovan said. The last few words were drowned out by a torrent of cheers from the team, but Coach Bagworth himself was close enough to hear his words. Donovan knew that position wouldn’t really work, he just wanted to make Coach try it.
He hung his head as he stood, stretched his sore legs and bent over to grab his ankles. His gigantic asscheeks parted in front of Donovan’s face as he got in position, but he was so tall that his ass kept rising until it was in perfect position for Donovan to lick it.
“Damn, Coach, you tall as shit. He can’t even reach yo’ ass like that.”
And so that was what Donovan did — he didn’t have any lube, after all, so if he were going to pound Coach Bagworth in the ass, he was going to need to do something to loosen things up. Besides, it ought to slow down Donovan’s throbbing erection, so he didn’t blow his wad too quickly. The team gasped, and even Coach Bagworth snorted like he had never heard of a rimjob. Donovan could feel the snort in the rippling of his ass muscles and the tightening of his sphincter as Donovan’s tongue plunged in.
Coach Bagworth lifted one leg like a dog and his whole body trembled, in a combination of pain, shock and intense pleasure when Donovan’s tongue hit his prostate. Donovan’s face buried itself in Coach’s ass, so he didn’t see his face, but judging from the laughter and comments from the other players, he must have had a funny look in his eyes.
“Lookit him! Can’t tell if he loves it or if he’s terrified!”
“Both, I think.”
“Nasty-ass shit… Crazy!”
Donovan lapped at Coach Bagworth’s sweaty ass, which was choked with coarse black hairs. Donovan suckled all the salty sweat off while producing enough spit to lube him up. The taste was musky, savory, so hot that Donovan wanted to jack himself off — but he forced himself not to touch his dick, so he could last as long as possible. His tongue rammed in and out of Coach Bagworth’s ass like he was trying to get at the center of a lollipop.
“Alright, now you’re going to have to get down lower,” Donovan said. He kissed each of Coach Bagworth’s plump cheeks, then slapped his ass as he lowered it. Coach Bagworth shuddered. Donovan slapped it again, like a coach encouraging his players.
But Donovan focused on getting Coach Bagworth down low enough to get in his ass. Once again, his height was an issue — Donovan had to stand on his toes, even with Coach Bagworth on all fours. He kept his ass low and his head high. Donovan spread Bagworth’s buttcheeks.
“Stick it in ‘im! Stick it in ‘im!”
Donovan’s dick was throbbing hard, nearly ready to cum already as he lined it up with Coach Bagworth’s ass. Then he pushed it slowly in, adding some spit to make sure it slid in easily enough. Coach Bagworth grunted and bit his lip. His head dangled and he lifted that foot again until Donovan made him lower his leg — he was so big that moving one asscheek to raise his leg made it impossible for Donovan to penetrate him.
“Stick ‘im harder, man!”
Donovan was a bottom by habit. He appreciated the physiques of men like Coach Bagworth, and he enjoyed servicing them. He rarely got a chance to top though. It was intimidating to pound it into someone so much larger and stronger than Donovan. It felt wrong. Coach Bagworth was so big Donovan felt like he was going to be swallowed by his massive ass, which retained all of the power from his pro football days, now comfortably padded and able to take every inch of Donovan’s dick.
“Damn, he destroyin’ that ass.”
“I ain’t know li’l dudes could plow like that.”
Donovan beamed with pride. The pleasure rocking his body was so intense Donovan moaned out loud, the sound ringing out and echoing in the linoleum-lined locker room and overpowering even the hooting and hollering of the football team. They clapped, encouraging Donovan to be even louder and pound Bagworth even harder.
Donovan had never felt physically smaller yet emotionally larger, like his primitive mind thought he had overpowered Coach Bagworth. His heart skipped a beat as pre-orgasmic throes of bliss made all his muscles spasm. Coach Bagworth grunted and covered his face from the watching team.
He didn’t know how long he kept pounding at Bagworth’s wide ass. It felt like forever to Donovan, but at the same time, it seemed to be over in a flash. He wished he could have stayed deep in Coach Bagworth’s ass until the end of time.
But his orgasm overwhelmed him soon enough. Donovan’s fingers curled and he gripped Coach Bagworth’s thick back muscles. He held on, mounting him so high that his feet were no longer on the floor. Supported entirely by Coach Bagworth’s athletic body, Donovan used all the power of his hips to slam his cock down.
The awkward positioning and the lack of leverage made the whole thing hotter for Donovan, who grunted and groaned, losing all of his femininity. His body was assaulted by waves of orgasmic energy, making him throw his head back and scream even before the first drops of cum sprayed into Coach Bagworth’s ass.
“Fill him up! Let’s see it drip down, boy! I wanna see that nut in his ass!”
And then it actually happened. His body shot jets of cum, copious gobs of it, more than Donovan had ever shot before. It was a pity he shot it inside Bagworth’s ass, he thought, because it would have been impressive to see it puddled on his back or somewhere like that.
The orgasm was so incredible that Donovan howled like a wolf, and the team joined in, harmonizing with him. They hollered and slapped each other on their backs.
“C’mon, Coach, make a hobby out of it! You did so good with Donovan, why give up now?!”
“That’ll teach you to think yo’ team ain’t gonna win!”
Donovan’s body went weak, and if he weren’t laying on Coach Bagworth’s back, he would have collapsed to the floor. Instead he limply lay atop Bagworth’s spasming back muscles as he moaned into the meat of Bagworth’s shoulders. Donovan clutched his body tightly.
“Damn, he fillin’ you up, Coach!”
“You sure he ain’t pissin’ inside you?”
“I see it dripping, here it comes! Here comes the cum!”
Donovan lay there for as long as he could. He enjoyed the taste of Coach Bagworth’s back-sweat and the feel of his ass clenching around Donovan’s dick as Coach Bagworth struggled to accept all of that cum. Donovan felt his semen dripping out of Coach Bagworth’s thick ass, sticking to the hair that it matted to his skin. Donovan licked Coach Bagworth’s ass until he stopped him.
“Okay, you had your fun,” Coach Bagworth said, his voice booming to be heard over the jeers of the team. He stood up, wincing as pain erupted in his ass and Donovan slid down, his big dick flopping out. Coach Bagworth burned with embarrassment when the team clapped and hooted, again shaking their own dicks in his direction.
The cum flowed out of his ass and dripped onto the floor. Donovan instinctively reached out to grab it, stroking his fingers in Coach’s taint and soaking up all the cum he could get. Coach Bagworth grunted but ignored him as Donovan wiped the cum off all over his giant ass.
“Woo-hoo! You got stuck, Coach!”
“How’s that feel for ya!”
“You ain’t nevuh gonna underestimate us again, huh?!”
Coach Bagworth again used one hand to demand silence. Everyone fell quiet — even getting cornholed in front of them wasn’t enough to ruin his sense of authority — and he opened his mouth to speak, then winced as Donovan’s hand brushed past his tender asshole. Coach Bagworth bent his knees and supported himself with his hands on the bench in front of him. When a few tittering laughs filled the air, he again held his hand up.
“Shut your fucking mouths,” he said with enough authority that they all clammed up immediately. The humid, cummy-aired locker room was so silent Donovan could hear the water running in the pipes — girls must have been showering in the other locker room. “Remember this is it. Once this boy here — sorry, I can’t remembuh yo’ name right now — once he leaves, nobody says nothin’ about this again, or I’m kickin’ you off the team.”
He shook his ass, forcing Donovan’s hand away. He turned his head and glared at Donovan, who for a moment thought he was in trouble. Then he saw the players smiling and clapping silently now that Coach Bagworth wasn’t facing them. They held a fist up in the air in a show of solidarity with Donovan.
Donovan decided to be bold — he stepped forward and kissed Coach Bagworth on the lips. He only stayed there for a second, because he knew Coach would push him away once he had a chance to react, and Donovan wanted to end this on his terms. It was a short, sweet kiss. Donovan wished he could have dragged it out.
Then Donovan pulled away and walked towards the door. He didn’t even bother to put his clothes on as he went. The team cheered and clapped, and this time, Coach Bagworth didn’t stop them.
“Yeah, you go, Donovan!”
“You can stick Coach anytime you want, you got my permission!”
Once he was near the door, Donovan breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn’t realized how tense he was until he was away from all those gigantic alpha males. He grabbed his spare clothes from his locker at the other end of the locker room, then got dressed, abandoning the clothes he had come here in back there. He left his clothes both because it made his exit more dramatic to sway his bare twink ass and because it gave him an excuse to come see Coach Bagworth later.
Donovan had a feeling that Coach Bagworth would be willing to reclaim his masculinity by topping Donovan, and Donovan planned on giving him that opportunity tonight. He smiled and whistled a jaunty tune as he walked out of the locker room, already formulating his plan for this evening.

The Married Trucker

When Garvey heads into the truck stop shower, he didn’t know what he was in for! That’s cuz the legendary bottom Avery Flowers is in there, servicing any alpha male trucker who needs a little release! Garvey is eager to get his rocks off, and Avery is eager to get started! Can they both please each other?

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Avery pulled his truck into the truck stop on the side of the interstate. His ass was sore from sitting so long. He was glad to stretch his legs. The engine whirred and roared, rumbling beneath his ass as he angled the truck into a parking spot.
Then he got out, in the lusty warmth of the evening Texas sun. It had been an unseasonably hot day today, and the heat had lingered like a stench. Now it was dissipating ever so slightly, bit by bit, and Avery was grateful for it.
He wasn’t hungry for food, so he didn’t go to the diner. He ignored the trashy woman who gave him a come-hither stare from the dingy window. The showerhouse, not the diner, was the only reason he had come here.
At all Ramwide Truck Stops, there were four showers, two each for men and women. One of each was for anyone of the appropriate gender. The other was for those who weren’t scared away by the disclaimer on the door.
In this shower, anything goes. Let the bather beware. Adults only.
That was what Avery wanted. For a lot of guys, being on the road meant letting men like Avery do whatever they wanted. It didn’t count as long as they were away from home, on the road.
He had a particular love for truckers and truck stops. So he was disappointed to see no one whatsoever in the showerhouse. His heart sank.
He just showered by himself then. It was a dismal and lonely shower. He didn’t even need the shower, he showered a couple hours ago. He just wanted to be ready in case anyone showed up, and he kind of liked group showers, even without the group. The empty showerhouse had a peaceful, zen-like quality.
It wasn’t until he was almost done that he heard the rumble of a truck engine park. He hurried to the door to peer outside. He wanted to get an idea of who the trucker was.
Not a woman, not a woman, not a woman…
The trucker was a burly man with the gait of an ex-military officer but the long, luxuriant mane of a tango singer, and a mustache that Avery just wanted to suck off his face. The trucker was muscular and thickly built beneath a white tee shirt and jeans. The trucker sauntered over to the vending machines and bathrooms first. Avery was disappointed, but he wasn’t surprised — most people didn’t come here just to go to the truck stop and service men.
So he waited while the trucker went into the bathroom, then to the diner. Avery rolled his eyes and swore under his breath. He sat down on one of the benches that lined the shower.
At last, he spotted the handsome trucker with a dense mop of hair came out of the diner. He patted his belly and headed towards the men’s shower.
The other men’s shower.
Avery was beyond disappointed. After hanging out in this shower for most of an hour, he wasn’t going to get to bust a nut after all. He had almost forgotten the other shower was an option.
He had just about given up hope and considered leaving when he saw the trucker stop. The trucker glanced back at Avery’s showerhouse and hesitated. He took two steps towards the no-funny-business shower, then three steps towards Avery’s.
“Fuck it,” the trucker said, loud enough that Avery could hear it. He grabbed his dick through his rank old jeans and came towards Avery’s showerhouse.
Avery went from grim to giddy in moments. He didn’t want to look like he had been perving out, so he went into the showering area and turned the water back on.
His name was Garvey, and he was nervous. He had never come into one of these showerhouses. He wasn’t sure what to expect. He only did go in this time because he couldn’t stop thinking about sex — his wife had left him last week — and he needed to bust a nut.
Garvey was single (sort of) for the first time in years. He and his wife weren’t compatible on a lot of things, but they were sexually compatible. That was why they had stayed together for so long. She wanted sex every day, and she loved anal, sucking cock, guzzling his cum. She was perfect from Garvey’s perspective, aside from her being a bit chunky and not the prettiest girl around.
But as long as she gave up the ass, Garvey thought, he would have never dumped her. She complained that he was boring though, and she disliked that he spent most of his days on the road. She swore she had never cheated on him, that she was dumping him because she didn’t think she could resist her horniness when he was gone anymore. But the more Garvey thought about it, the more he thought he didn’t believe that — she was so horny all the time, surely she had found a guy while he was gone. She complained if she went one full day without sex when Garvey was at home, so how could she last up to six weeks without him while he was on the road?
The only possible answer was that she couldn’t.
The divorce papers were coming soon. Garvey wasn’t sure yet if he’d sign them. He didn’t even want to think about that until he had to though.
Garvey had let his body go while he was with her. He wasn’t corpulent by any means, but he no longer had the six-pack and barrel chest he’d had in his youth. Now he was just barrel-shaped, all muscle and curvy heft and kinky black fur that covered his chest (and which he had shaved when he was younger — now it was so dense and thick he wasn’t sure he could shave it, while women had come to despise body hair in general, he didn’t think he’d ever get laid again if he didn’t start shaving).
He belched when he came into the shower. He didn’t know what he was going to do. He kind of hoped nobody would be in here. He could just jack off and not feel too grimy.
But he’d been jacking off since she dumped him. Garvey wanted some ass.
As soon as he walked into the shower — it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim light in there — his dick twitched.
There was a man there. He was slim and weak. Garvey could bend him over and plow into his tight hole. It would feel just like his wife.
“Hey,” said the man. “I’m Avery.”
“Hmmm….” Garvey wasn’t sure what to say. Despite his big size and demeanor, Garvey was often shy, especially since his wife left him. He felt like everything he said and did was wrong.
Avery was stroking his dick and looking square on at Garvey, who blanched. Garvey had been under the impression from his trucker buddies that these showerhouses were full of other truckers who sat around circlejerking, or sometimes slim men who wore women’s clothes and pretended to be women. So it was either like just chilling with some friends, or it was like plowing a woman. Both of those options had seemed okay to Garvey. He wasn’t sure how to take this more ambiguous situation.
“So where are you going?” Avery asked with a nervous quaver. Garvey glowered, coming closer without having even taken off his clothes. Avery took a few steps back.
Once Garvey was in the showering area, he realized he had forgotten to undress. His dick was hard. Was that normal? But his dick was hard, while Avery still had a half-limp cock. He played with it casually as Garvey took off his sweat-stained tee shirt, kicked off his boots and socks, then dropped his jeans.
He had a big hairy chest that was broad and thick muscled, exactly the sort of men’s physiques Avery most appreciated. He came closer because he could see that Garvey was sweaty — from spending hours crammed in the cab of his truck — and Avery wanted to lick all that sweat up before Garvey got in the shower spray and it was washed off.
His dick hung free, and Garvey tried not to be nervous. He considered leaving. He could turn around and go shower in the other showerhouse.
But then when he looked back at Avery, who sunk to his knees with his mouth wide open, Garvey knew he was going to do it. His dick was already jutting out. Avery aimed his mouth up and either gurgled or said something, Garvey couldn’t tell what because everything was a blur. All he could focus on was the feel of his cock throbbing, pulsating, demanding he do something with it. He needed to ram it in some place tight and dark and moist, and he needed to do it now.
A long loud sigh like nothing Avery had ever heard emanated from Garvey’s mouth, beginning even before his dick touched Avery’s tongue. It was such a strangely loud sound, like a cow with a particularly sonorous moo, that Avery barely noticed the salty taste of his dick.
Avery looked up at Garvey’s eyes, but Garvey had leaned his head back. He looked like he was on the verge of orgasm already, and it had been only half a second. Avery giggled.
“You must be horny…” Avery said as he thwacked his own face with Garvey’s cockshaft. Every time he did, there was a satisfyingly meaty thump, and each time, Garvey jumped.
“C’mon… I need you,” Garvey said, his deep voice crackling with stale moisture. It felt like it had been years since he blew a nut and his balls were about to explode.
“Hmmm…” Avery opened his mouth wide and stuck his tongue out. He planted his tongue on the underside of Garvey’s dick, which twitched when it touched his soft, moist tongue. Avery stayed right there, motionless, his tongue touching the spot where the underside of Garvey’s dick met his ballsac.
Men both loved and hated that, Avery knew well. He waited while Garvey first breathed heavy, his chest rising and falling mountainously, his dick pulsating veinily. Then when he realized Avery wasn’t going to lick any spot other than this ultra-sensitive bit of flesh, Garvey grunted. Avery’s tongue lapped like a cat’s at that one spot.
“C’mon, man, swallow it…” Garvey’s deep voice was plaintive, desperate. His hands flailed. He gripped Avery’s head, then let go.
Still Avery remained right there, smiling around the tongue he kept in place on the root of Garvey’s dick. At last, Garvey started humping, his instincts taking over. That was what Avery was waiting for. Garvey got past his reluctance and began pistoning his hips, rubbing his dick back and forth atop Avery’s tongue.
That meant Avery was ready to move on. He licked all the way up Garvey’s shaft and kissed the tip of his dick. When that made Garvey shudder, Avery kissed it again and again, slathering spit on the tip. The shower was still on, spraying hot water and filling the air with steam, so when Avery’s spit dripped onto the shower floor, it mingled with the warm water and went right down the drain.
“Goddamn, boy, open that throat up, don’t fight it, c’mon, don’t fight it,” Garvey murmured, alternating between plaintive begging and aggressive demands. “Don’t fight it. You makin’ it feel goood…” He gyrated his hips, forcing his cock all the way down Avery’s throat.
A loud baritone moan escaped from Garvey’s mouth. He couldn’t believe how good this felt. Why hadn’t he been doing this all along? His wife had loved sucking cock, but she couldn’t deep-throat like this. She even enjoyed getting facefucked — even then though, she simply couldn’t swallow this much cockmeat. She had never gotten more than half of Garvey’s cock in her throat. Women, Garvey realized, were physically much too small to really swallow a dick properly.
Why did he ever let women give blowjobs? He ought to just fuck women in the pussy, since that was something he couldn’t get from men.
Just a few minutes ago, Garvey wasn’t sure if he wanted to do this. But now that his dick throbbed mightily, leaking precum right into Avery’s throat, Garvey was already making plans to return. He wondered if these showerhouses always had men like Avery, men who could handle a dick like magic, deep-throat him to the root until he could feel his bottom’s throat clench, nose nuzzling his pubic hair. He hoped so, but he feared that Avery was unique.
Avery had to force his own head off Garvey’s cock — Garvey kept trying to ram his face. Even after Avery had removed himself, Garvey kept humping the air like he hadn’t noticed. Avery gave his dick a stroke, then licked a trail down his leg to his feet.
His feet were nice and funky. Avery slathered spit between Garvey’s toes, slurping every drop of nastiness and savoring every bit of it. The taste was grimy and gritty, potent as a punch to the face. Garvey looked down at him like that was crazy — which maybe it was, it certainly felt crazy to Avery — but he didn’t complain or even mention it at all. He lifted one of his feet up so Avery could slather his tongue up and down the underside of it. The bottom of his feet was even more nasty, tasting of the foulness of this truck stop and others, the dirty showers Garvey used.
When Avery was ready to move on, he let out a moan of desire, his own cock throbbing hard between his legs. He sucked up his own footy spit from Garvey’s toes. He gurgled, “You wanna ram my ass-?”
But Garvey was so horny, he cringed and shuddered at the sound of Avery’s moistly seductive voice. Without a moment’s hesitation, Garvey grabbed Avery by the hair and bent him over on all fours.
It all happened so fast that Avery struggled. He nearly fell, and he pulled away until he realized Garvey just wanted him bent over. Avery struggled to get onto all fours. Even though Garvey wanted him in the same position, his hands seemed to be everywhere, pushing Avery and pulling him in every direction, and Avery was too overwhelmed by arousal to get down on his arms and legs on the floor. He liked the feeling of being manhandled by Garvey’s powerful arms.
“C’mon, man, bend over and take it, I need ya ass, boy, I need to get in there. Okay? Huh? Say it’s okay, I’ll ram you so good-” Garvey spoke quickly, like he was desperate to get all this out before his dick rammed up Avery’s backside.
“Ram me in the ass, please…” Avery said with a seductive moan that made Garvey grunt. The sound echoed in the uncleaned linoleum of the Ramwide Truck Stop.
“Goddamn, man…” Garvey pushed his dick in as soon as he could, without waiting for Avery to settle into position. He rammed it in as though he’d get in trouble for every second it wasn’t inside Avery.
Then he sighed, just an inch or so of dickmeat inside Avery’s ass. Garvey could take a deep breath and ponder for a moment — he hadn’t really intended to actually ram a man in the ass. He hadn’t decided he definitely wouldn’t. But he sort of assumed his first time in the Ramwide Truck Stop would be all-oral.
It wasn’t what happened though. Once he saw Avery’s tight asshole, Garvey wanted in it. He plowed in there with a loud grunt and a moan. Every additional inch of dickmeat he got in there sent another wave of pleasure through Garvey’s body, and he let out groan after spine-tingling groan.
He had always loved fucking his wife in the ass, but this was different. She liked it despite the fact that it was a bit painful for her — she liked a bit of pain, she said it made the pleasure better. Avery could sympathize with that point of view. But for Avery, he wasn’t in pain at all. He liked getting rammed in the ass. There was an intense pressure, but it didn’t hurt. It felt good. It felt amazing, and he wanted it as hard and as deep as Garvey could manage. Every thrust sent waves of ecstasy through both men’s bodies.
So Garvey started off a bit ginger, thinking Avery would make him slow down and go more gently like his wife always had. When that didn’t happen, he rammed a little harder. He forced his dick in deeper.
Still, there was no complaint. A surge of pleasure shot up Garvey’s spine, and he grunted. He slammed more of his dick in, until he was all the way inside Avery’s tight ass. His balls thwacked hard against the smoothness of Avery’s firm asscheeks.
“Oh god… ram… me…” Avery had trouble focusing on his words because of the intense sensations flowing through him.
“Shit, boy, fuck yeah. Yee-haw!” Garvey shouted, his reluctance finally dwindling to nothing. Now he understood why his other trucker buddies came in here. You could do whatever you wanted here. As long as there were men like Avery here, you could go more and harder and better and longer than any female would do it. Men could simply take more punishment than women, and they knew how to use the equipment.
Garvey hadn’t even noticed his eyes were closed until he felt Avery pull off his dick. Garvey shuddered, his shaft suddenly cold, his orgasm fading away like a mountain getting smaller and smaller in the rear-view mirror.
Then, before he could even ask what was happening or do anything more than grunt, Garvey was forcibly bent over. His ass was high in the air. Belatedly, a shiver of fear ran through Garvey because it felt like he was about to get rammed in the ass, which he wasn’t willing to endure. If he had more time to think about it and wasn’t overwhelmed by desire, he would have refused to get in that position at all. It certainly wasn’t wise to stay bent over with an accessible bare ass in a Ramwide Truck Stop. That was just begging for a ramrodding.
That wasn’t what Avery wanted though. He put Garvey on all fours over the drain in the center of the showerhouse. Then he spread Garvey’s asscheeks and rammed his tongue right in.
The whole shift took only a second, and Garvey’s dick didn’t lose any of his erection. He wasn’t sure he liked the rimjob at first — it kind of tickled, and it felt like a cat licking him. It didn’t feel bad, but it was hardly erotic either.
And then all at once, Garvey shouted as an explosion of pleasure hit him. It felt so good it almost hurt, and Avery’s tongue explored his ass deeply. It plunged into his prostate, making Garvey’s whole body shake. He lifted up one of his legs like a dog trying to pee, which gave Avery easy access to his cock with both hands.
“Oh god, damn, boy, get ya tongue in there, fuck!” This was something Garvey had never experienced. Even his wife in her most sexually adventurous mood had never wanted to give him a rimjob. She didn’t even touch his ass — she’d offered to peg him, but Garvey had refused, and that was as close as they had ever come.
Now he could plow into Avery harder than he thought possible. Garvey had no idea how long that lasted. It felt like he had rammed for hours. It felt so good he could have done it forever, just laying there, bent over, getting his hairy asshole licked.
It was deliciously nasty. Pleasure visible roiled Garvey’s body as Avery spat up coious saliva into Garvey’s intact asshole. It filled him up and turned into a frothy mess that coated Avery’s face. That tasted so nasty that Avery couldn’t resist sucking it back up into his mouth, and he let out a moan that made Garvey’s whole body shake in throes of ecstasy.
“Shit, man, I’m gonna blow…” Garvey turned around and jammed his dick right into Avery’s throat, which was still wide open, tongue extending mid-lick because Garvey had stopped him in the middle of his rimjob. An explosion of exquisite bliss hit Garvey hard, and he let out yet another baritone moan. His knees went weak the moment his sensitive cocktip touched Avery’s tongue.
He was already shooting his load when he turned around, and the first jet of creamy cum shot onto Avery’s chin. That was quickly smeared into a dripping puddle by Garvey’s balls, which slapped against Avery’s chin as he shoved his orgasmic cock into his throat. He held onto Avery by the head so he could ram down his throat with all his might.
Avery gagged this time because it happened so quickly and without warning. Once he was able to adjust, however, he opened his throat wide. Garvey’s cock plugged deep into him, shooting cum the whole way, coating Avery’s tongue, mouth, cheeks and the back of his throat. Garvey let go of his head because he thought Avery was asking him to, but Avery didn’t pull off even when he could. He savored the feel of a huge cock throbbing in his throat.
That made him sputter and choke even as he swallowed Garvey’s massive cock. He swallowed it to the root and sucked down every drop, while Garvey’s whole hairy body tensed and flexed above Avery’s head.
“Damn, shit…” Garvey grunted and shook. His muscles all shuddered at once, and so did that glorious mustache on his upper lip.
Then he re-gripped Avery’s head and went to the ground with him, balls rubbing over the cummy mess on Avery’s chin. Avery lay on his back in the pool of hot shower water while Garvey rammed his mouth, moving his hips in a circle, making love to the back of his throat. Avery couldn’t resist gagging at last, when Garvey hit the back of his throat, but that didn’t slow Garvey down at all.
Avery was only dimly aware of his own orgasm, which hit him just as Garvey’s was finishing up. Avery’s hands moved of their own accord to stroke his own cock, which spewed a fat puddle of cream that pooled on Avery’s belly. When Avery moved, it spilled onto the filthy shower floor.
At last, Garvey pulled off, his dick sliding out of Avery’s mouth. It was followed by multiple mouthloads of jizz, which Avery spat out as he was overcome by a series of gags. His hands caressed the fleshy firness of Garvey’s asscheeks, which were furry and warm to the touch. Avery giggled through the mouthful of cum that spilled out and coated his face. Garvey chuckled throatily as he flopped, limp and exhausted, covered in sweat — though that was washed off by the shower water right away. He hadn’t even realized another man had come into the shower, and was jacking off as he watched.
That made Garvey nervous, but he was now confident enough he didn’t care. He could handle a man jacking off. He’d handled a lot more than that.
He got up and grinned down at Avery. “Thanks, man… I, uh… This truck stop is great.”
“Yeah,” Avery said. He went over to his clothes., fingers teasing the broad body of the masturbating trucker as he walked by — the new trucker looked disappointed to see that Avery was leaving.
“You come here a lot?”
Avery shook his head. “Not that often. Don’t let that stop you though,” he said. “You’ll always have fun in a Ramwide Truck Stop.”
Then he walked out, still putting his shoes on. He always left quickly. Avery liked to leave his men wanting more.

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!

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here

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 Smokin’ Sheriff

Rob buys a remote cabin and is visited by the suspicious local sheriff, who demands, expects and receive some ultimate alpha-male service!

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Rob settled back in his new chair. It still felt new, it needed to be broken in, his ass still needed to find its groove in it. But it was fine, and it felt right beneath him. All of his furniture still had that uncomfortably new mystique to it. He felt bad about using it because it all looked so impeccable. It needed some scratches and stains to make this cabin look lived-in.
It was a vacation home out in the woods, in rural North Carolina, in the Appalachian west of the state. Rob had never been here before he bought the cabin, sight unseen. He needed a place to go, to sit and relax, to focus on his novel, and to generally get away from it all. He knew it was a risk, to buy a cabin he’d never seen in a state he’d never been to.
But he was satisfied. The water and power worked, which was the most important thing really — he didn’t want to rough it, he just wanted to relax in the woods. The rest of it could be repaired.
He thought he might fix the cabin up too. He could hire people to expand it, maybe add a second floor. Maybe a garden. He didn’t intend to be here that often, so it’d have to be some easy-to-maintain stuff (he didn’t want to hire a gardener), like maybe some azaleas, that would be nice.
For now though, he just wanted to make it feel like home. He wouldn’t be able to write much as long as it felt like a house he was housesitting for a couple weeks. It needed to feel like a home.
But the chair still felt brand-new. It felt like he was sitting in a showroom chair in a furniture store.
There came a knock at the door. Rob frowned. He didn’t have any neighbors, and he literally knew no one in the area. He’d only been here for a week, after all. Who could be at the door?
He wondered if he was in danger just moments before he opened the front door. Damn it, I should have looked out the window. He didn’t really know how safe this region was. But as far as anyone knew, no one lived here — you had to come into the driveway to even see that his car was here. The cabin had been vacant for years before he bought it.
It’s a cop.
“Oh, uh, hello…” The first thing Rob noticed was that he was a cop. The second thing he noticed was that he was intensely handsome. He wore a brown sheriff’s uniform shirt and brown slacks, which his thick-built body filled out perfectly. He was middle-aged, his face craggy, eyes a bit sunken and dark brown. He wore a wide-brimmed hat but Rob was pretty sure he was balding under that, and he had a jaw-heavy swaggering look to him.
His chest was broad and strapping, the hair visible in how it pressed against his uniform shirt, in the breast pocket of which was one thick cigar. The badge above the cigar gleamed with sunlight that filtered down through the trees above.
“Howdy,” said the sheriff. He tipped his cap to Rob. “I’m Sheriff Torkelson. Reynard Torkelson.” He peered into the house, making a big show of it, like he wanted Rob to notice he was doing it. “Nice cabin.”
“Uh… Thanks. Can I… help you?”
“Is it alright if I come in?” His voice was deep and serious, echoic like his throat was a high-ceilinged vault. This didn’t sound like a friendly call, and Rob was too intimidated to ask why the sheriff wanted to enter. He frowned when Rob didn’t immediately say yes.
Rob knew he should say no. His lawyer friend always said to never invite a cop into your home. But Rob wasn’t being investigated for a crime, right? He didn’t know if that applied right now.
“Sure.” He opened the door for him.
“That’s mighty kind of ya,” Sheriff Torkelson said. He tipped his hat again before entering the house. He didn’t exactly search, but he did look around, peering in every room as he spoke. “We gots a bit of a problem in these parts… girls.”
“Girls? They’re a problem? I-“
“Sorry, not the girls theyselves. We like girls. Girls is right nice indeed,” Sheriff Torkelson said. He opened the door to the bedroom, then looked in the closet, which was empty. He even tapped on a few of the walls and listened to see if there were hollow spaces. “The problem, you see, is that some silly punks think us rednecks don’t mind them usin’ these cabins for they purposes… You feel me? Huh? You pickin’ up what I am puttin’ down?”
After a long pause, Rob said, “No. Not at all. Is something wrong?”
“You a pimp?”
“A pimp? Is that a joke? No, I’m not a pimp,” Rob said.
“Hmm-hmm…. Why’d you buy this cabin?”
“I just wanted a place to relax in, you know… I’m writing a novel, and I want to focus on it.”
“You bought a cabin just to write a novel?”
“I bought a cabin to relax in. The current reason I want to relax is to focus on my novel. But I-“
“What’s ya novel about?”
“A time-traveling orphan who tries to found a modern, democratic society in ancient times, and discovers he accidentally became Romulus and Remus,” Rob said. When the Sheriff looked like he didn’t know what that meant, Rob added, “They’re the mythological founders of Rome. So he discovers that he founded Rome, it was only slightly democratic and only for a couple centuries before it became an empire. So it’s ironic-“
“He became two people?”
“What? Romulus and Remus? That’s two people.”
“Uh, well, yeah, it’s kind of a symbolic thing. He ended up having to make up a cofounder because of politics, he needed someone to offload decisions on. It represents his dual nature, he never intended it to be a founding myth like that. But he came from the Trojan War-“
“Hmmmm…” He peered at Rob. “So you ain’t pimpin’ girls out at this cabin?”
“No! No, officer! No, sir, I mean, sorry, sir. No, sir. No, sheriff.”
“You sure?” He chewed on his lower lip. He got up real close, his rancid breath condensing on Rob’s lips.
“Yes!” Rob said. “I don’t do that! I’m not a pimp! I… I’m from a wealthy family.” He blushed. “Not asking for special treatment, I just… I don’t need money. I wouldn’t pimp out any women, I don’t need the cash and I, you know…” Rob didn’t want to add that he could hire as many high-value escorts as he wanted. “I don’t need women. I’m not even… I don’t even like women. I mean, I don’t — I’m not into sex with women. I’m single.”
The Sheriff glared at him like he didn’t believe him. Rob affected a flamboyant stance with a limp wrist and laughed nervously. The Sheriff forcibly turned Rob around and looked at his ass through his khakis.
“You expect me to believe you come out here to this cabin just to write a goddamn book?”
“I mean… I guess so, yeah, I… It’s not that weird. I own eleven houses, this is just the most remote one,” Rob said. His voice sounded squeaky, his feet frozen to the spot he was in. “I swear, I’m no pimp, I swear. I probably won’t ever have visitors here. I mean, maybe some guys, I like to jerk guys off.” He blushed. “I mean, not like, in a weird way. Just, you know… Sorry, I’m… I like, you know… I don’t hang out with women. Well, sometimes, I have female friends. But not in North Carolina.”
The Sheriff licked his lips again. His eyes roamed up and down Rob’s body. Was he checking him out? Planning on hitting him? Rob had no idea. He couldn’t make eye contact with Sheriff Torkelson’s deep, foreboding eyes.
“Why you so scared if you ain’t doin’ somethin’ you ain’t supposed to? Huh?” He touched Rob on the cheek with one callused finger.
“You’re just… really intimidating,” Rob said with a nervous laugh. Then he added, “And handsome.”
For the first time, Sheriff Torkelson looked confused. He dropped his hand. “What?”
Rob looked down at his feet. “I… I just really want to jerk you off while you smoke that cigar. You can ram me up the ass too.” He laughed hysterically. “Sorry, sorry, I know, you, uh… You got a great body.” Rob was so scared he closed his eyes and sat down on the brand-new couch. “I swear, I couldn’t pimp out any females, I don’t even know how that works — vaginas are weird!Sorry, I-” Rob gasped when he looked up.
Sheriff Torkelson had unzipped his slacks and let a fat cock flop out through the fly. He stood there like he hadn’t noticed his dick was out, as he got out the cigar. He clipped it with a cigar cutter, then he put it in his mouth and began puffing on it even before he lit the cigar with a zippo. “Hmm-hmmm…”
“Oh, uh… You…” Rob wasn’t sure what he should do. He obviously wanted to get on his knees and start worshipping Sheriff Torkelson’s manhood. That was what Rob’s instincts told him to do, and if he was more comfortable with his surroundings, that’s what he would have done. Back at the mansion in California, that’s what he would do.
That massive cock hung so thick and meaty, inviting, a bit glistening with sweat from being cooped up in his uniform slacks. Rob gulped. Could it be a trap? Maybe Sheriff Torkelson would wait for him to do it, then charge him with assaulting an officer or ruining the dignity of a Southerner, something like that.
“So you said before you wasn’t gonna have no visitors?” His cock jiggled. Smoke bloomed from his mouth as he took his first full puff on the now-lit cigar.
The bitter scent of tobacco filled the cabin. It was probably soaking into the upholstery and the curtains. Rob didn’t mind. He would have objected in any other of his houses, but not here, both because Torkelson was too intimidating to object to anything he did and because a rustic cabin like this ought to have a smell to it. Maybe it would seem more like a home. As it is, it only smelled of air freshener and dust. Tobacco might improve it.
“Well, I dunno, I guess, I might, maybe, I hadn’t really planned on not doing it. But I wasn’t going to make any friends around here. I did want to renovate the place.” He paused. “So there’d be, you know, workmen around-“
“See, you could pimp out some girl to ’em. That’d be a handy excuse to bring men over here, to let ’em see ya merchandise.”
“Oh, but, I won’t! I don’t have any girls! I don’t like girls! I never have! They talk too much! And boobs are, uh… I don’t… I’m not into boobs. Tits. Breasts.” All words for mammary tissue felt wrong coming out of Rob’s mouth in this moment.
Sheriff Torkelson rolled his eyes and sighed. Then, like he was speaking to a child, he said, “So what’re you waiting for?” He leaned forward, which made his fat cock jiggle and angle towards Rob.
“Waiting for what?!” Rob squealed. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from that long dick, dangling between Torkelson’s legs.
“To jerk me off.”
“I didn’t know you wanted me to!” Rob tried to bite back a sob. A few tears did leak out, but he couldn’t even decide if they were tears of joy and desire or fear and terror (or just plain irritation from the cigar smoke). He gulped. “Oh! You want me to!” Rob looked up and made eye contact with Torkelson for the first time in awhile. Rob had been entranced by his cock ever since he took it out.
His dick was hard already. Rob got close to it and sunk to his knees as though to beg at or worship Sheriff Torkelson. Then he planted his tongue on the tip, only for Torkelson to immediately take it away. He barely got a taste of the musty manhood reeking of cigar smoke, but it was enough to tantalize Rob.
“Whatchoo doin’, boy?!” Sheriff Torkelson barked, and Rob backed away, squealing. “I ain’t say to put nuttin’ in ya mouf!”
“Oh!” Rob scooted away and plopped back onto his ass on the floor. “Sorry, I-! I didn’t — I wasn’t sure what you meant, I don’t…” He went pale as could be.
Sheriff Torkelson guffawed and got closer to Rob again. He swayed his body from left to right, which made his cock sway too like a cobra waiting to pounce. He straddled Rob and flopped his limp dick over his face. “You can put’cha mouf on it. I was just playin’ witcha, boy.”
“Yeah. Okay. Sure. Cool. Okay.” Heart racing, Rob opened his mouth again, eyeing Sheriff Torkelson suspiciously. His tongue again snaked out, and touched his shaft.
This time Sheriff Torkelson leaned into it. He slid more of his limp, ultra-thick cock into Rob’s mouth, and the taste of his powerful manhood flooded Rob’s senses. Rob straightened his back, letting his tongue slather spit onto that shaft, which was so thick he could barely fit it in his mouth. And it wasn’t even hard yet!
Then Torkelson ashed on Rob’s forehead. He took a deep drag and exhaled it onto Rob’s face. The acrid scent of cigar smoke filled the air, making Rob’s eyes water again. He coughed on Torkelson’s dick, which now tasted bitter and gritty from cigar ash.
Amid silence’s reign over the cabin, Torkelson jutted his hips forward, forcing his dick down Rob’s throat. Rob was finally starting to relax enough he could swallow it without feeling abject terror. That cock was magnificent and salty, deliciously savory on Rob’s tongue, and it filled up his throat as though it had been made for it.
It twitched and slowly firmed up in his throat, as Rob concentrated on taking every inch without gagging. Sheriff Torkelson was relentless — not exactly aggressive, he just kept plowing in deeper, seemingly without paying much attention to his dick. He focused on the cigar, taking deep drags off it and blowing it into Rob’s face. Every time Rob gagged, Sheriff Torkelson chuckled dryly. His face aimed, flat and expressionless, down at Rob’s frenzied gagging and open-mouthed gasping.
Obviously, Rob thought, Torkelson liked the feel of his bottom’s mouth and throat clenching when he gagged. Once he realized that was what Sheriff Torkelson wanted, Rob let himself gag over and over, which in turn made Sheriff Torkelson gasp and moan. Spit ran down his cockshaft and soaked into his pubic hair, even wetting his brown uniform slacks.
Then he gripped Rob’s head and held it in place, using one hand on his forehead, the other on his chin, while he puffed on the cigar between his lips. He pumped his waist to jam his dick down Rob’s gullet, and the unwashed musk of his cock assaulted Rob’s senses, bringing tears to Rob’s eyes.
His hairy ballsac slapped against Rob’s chin. “Ah… yes… That’s nice… That’s real nice,” he said.
Rob gasped for air, his hands clasping Sheriff Torkelon’s powerful thighs under his slacks. Rob chased that cock with his mouth as Torkelson teased him by swaying it left and right, forcing Rob to dart his head back and forth after it. His cocktip dribbled both spit and precum onto the floor. Then he allowed Rob to swallow it to the root again.
This time, it must have felt exceptionally good, because Torkelson sucked in his breath and stood on his toes. He pulled out of Rob’s mouth without warning, inserted his lips into Rob’s mouth — not even kissing him, literally pouting his lips directly in — and then blew a fat cloud of smoke.
Rob hoarsely gagged and Sheriff Torkelson rammed his cock back into Rob’s waiting mouth. He sighed like that was scratching an itch he hadn’t been able to reach.
“Damn…” He grunted and ashed again on Rob’s forehead. He smeared the ash over Rob’s face.
Sheriff Torkelson laughed as Rob choked. He pulled out to let Rob take a breath.
When Rob had recovered enough to speak, he said, “Sorry! I’m sorry, I’ll do what you say!” Rob didn’t know what he was apologizing for. “Your dick tastes real good-“
“Hmm-hmm…” He let his erect cock ram over Rob’s face as though looking for a hole to put it in. Precum coated Rob’s cheeks.
Rob was breathless and still scared. He grabbed Torkelson’s cock with both hands, only for Torkelson to slap his hands away.
Wrinkling his nose, Torkelson said, “You ready to get it up the ass?”
“Yes. Oh god, yes!” Rob blushed. “Please cornhole me.” He couldn’t get up because Sheriff Torkelson still straddled his chest. Torkelson’s cock rubbed over Rob’s cheeks and chin. He ashed once more on his forehead.
Sheriff Torkelson frowned like he expected Rob to get up and bend over now, even though that would be difficult until Torkelson got out of his way. He raised one eyebrow at Rob, who realized he was supposed to make it happen anyway.
“How do you wanna do it?” Rob asked. He arduously scooted down, making Sheriff Torkelson’s sweaty balls rub over his face. Rob stuck his tongue out and licked a trail all the way between his legs. Once Rob was out from under him, Torkelson finally dropped his pants and his underwear all the way down.
“However you want, you in charge here,” Sheriff Torkelson said. His voice wavered as Rob caressed each cheek and planted his tongue in his hairy crack. Torkelson leaned forward enough to give Rob easy access to his ass.
Rob didn’t typically give rimjobs, but Sheriff Torkelson had nice big plump asscheeks, especially for an older man, and a lot of beautifully funky hair that Rob wanted to suck clean. He dove between those cheeks and noisily, moistly, slathered spit up and down the crack of his ass.
Eventually Rob laid on his back on the edge of the couch. He lifted his feet up. He liked getting rammed in this position by men because it made them uncomfortable — Rob’s cock and balls were plainly visible, right in front of their faces when they looked down. They couldn’t watch their dick slide into his ass without seeing him jack off at the same time, so there was no way to pretend Rob had a vagina.
That didn’t seem to slow down Torkelson at all though.
“Hmmm… Good boy, I like that, I like it,” Sheriff Torkelson said. He had to bend his knees to get his dick low enough to line up with Rob’s ass. He drilled in with a loud sigh, just the tip at first, and he ashed his cigar — this time right on Rob’s chest. “I liked how you licked my ass a bit there. I didn’t even gotta tell you to do that.”
“You’re welcome, sir, I’d like to do that again one day soon,” Rob said with a plaintive moan, as pressure erupted in his ass. He liked to tease his men, and he figured the promise of a rimjob would bring Sheriff Torkelson back.
He sucked in his breath when Sheriff Torkelson’s cock slid deeper into his ass, nicely greased up with his spit. Rob focused on keeping his head still, so the ash on his forehead wouldn’t spill. That helped distract him from the pain of Torkelson’s magnificent cock ripping him open, and it made him relax his ass so Torkelson could plow into him hard.
Unable to stay perfectly still, Rob writhed but kept his head motionless enough. He felt every trickling particle of ash that slipped down his face or into his scalp. There was a scorching sensation each time Sheriff Torkelson ashed, but it wasn’t enough to burn him.
It just distracted him from the overwhelming pressure in his ass, as that thick cock slammed into him. Rob gripped the meaty, furry chest of Sheriff Torkelson’s old-man body, giggling at the sight of his shocked reaction. Torkelson pounded away, holding Rob in place as though he was inexperienced at ramrodding a man who wanted it.
“Damn… Ya booty do feel like a pussy,” Sheriff Torkelson said with a sigh. He pistoned his hips, forcing his cock all the way in. He smiled for the first time since he had come in, a real smile, not a threatening grin. He stuck one finger in Rob’s mouth and rammed it all the way down, as though to test Rob’s gag reflex.
Rob was overcome by a potent desire. He was only vaguely aware of his own hand jacking himself off. That felt like a dim and distant thing, even as he exploded in cum and pleasure wracked his body. His prostate sent wave after wave of liquid bliss coursing through his veins, yet still, Rob’s focus was on that pile of ash on his forehead.
“Shit…” Torkelson sighed and shot his own wad deep into Rob. He smiled at the sight of the neat stack of ash still there. He liked to see Rob writhing on the cock impaling his ass while keeping his head perfectly still.
“Oh god!” Rob couldn’t stop screaming now. It was a good thing this cabin was far from any neighbors. He threw his head back, and at last that ash slid off, as the most potent orgasm of his life hit him hard.
It wracked his body so intensely it hurt, and Rob moaned loudly. Much to his surprise, Sheriff Torkelson leaned down and kissed him on the lips — Sheriff Torkelson was actually just as surprised, he did it entirely out of instinct, because this was the position he usually fucked his wife in. He would never have kissed a man at all, especially right after that man jerked his cock, but when he did it instinctually, he leaned into it and pretended he had wanted to do it all along.
Both men jizzed at the same time, Rob spraying a fat wad over his face, while Torkelson’s cock jetted cumload after cumload deep into Rob’s body. It was hot and creamy, and Rob felt it seeping through his flesh.
Rob fell limp, and Torkelson let his cock slowly slide out, while Torkelson kept his face right in front of Rob. Rob kissed him again, and their tongues interlocked. Torkelson rolled his eyes but didn’t pull away until his dick was dangling limply between his legs. He puffed on his cigar.
“I kissed you there as a reward for takin’ my dick so damn good,” Sheriff Torkelson said. He grunted. “And for not bein’ a pimp. I’m glad to see that.”
“Uh-huh…” Rob felt like going to sleep. He wanted to go break in that new bed. The mattress had seemed so comfortable in the store, and now he couldn’t wait to sleep on it.
He smiled as Rob closed his eyes, curling up on the couch. “You gonna sleep here?”
“I’ll go to bed later…” Rob murmured softly. “You can let yourself out.”
Torkelson was about to do so. But Rob looked so delicate, his trim body surely going to be cold once he got over his post-orgasmic rush. So Torkelson scooped him into his burly arms and carried him into the bedroom. He deposited him gently on the bed.
For just a moment, Torkelson considered getting in bed with him. He was off-duty — he had stopped by on his way home — so he could text his wife that he was working all night at the jail, and then just stay here. He could mess with the out-of-towner all night.
But no, he thought. Torkelson quietly dressed and left, feeling a pang of regret as the door slammed shut. His wife expected him home, and if he took the long way, when he got there, he’d be ready to fuck the hell out of her.

The Raunchy Trucker

Elton is in for a raunchy experience, when he accidentally goes into an anything-goes cruising showerhouse at a truck stop, so a bevy of the filthiest, nastiest truckers around make Elton as disgusting as possible. Can Elton make it out of there?

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Read the whole thing here!

At the Ramwide Truck Stop near Tuscaloosa, Alabama, Elton didn’t notice a small placard on the door. He had pulled over to use the bathroom — he drove a four-door sedan, not a truck, but he had to piss real bad and he was a frequent visitor to other truck stops. He hoped to both drain his bladder and maybe get a nut off in the showerhouse. Ramwide Truck Stops were notorious cruising spots, full of nasty men who didn’t mind jerking off another fellow.
That was good for Elton, who was single now and sometimes needed a little release. Plus, he needed to piss.
The placard he ignored said ‘This building is for adults-only, and it is a free-for-all. If you go in here, you are signaling your consent to anything that occurs in this building. There is another showerhouse nearby without this sign.’ Elton would have gone to the other showerhouse if he’d known it was an option or if he’d seen the placard.
But he didn’t see it. He didn’t even realize it was a showerhouse until he went in, he assumed it was simply a bathroom. His Ramwide Truck Stop — the one near his house — didn’t have two showerhouse options. There was just one, and there was usually some mincing pervert in there jacking off men. The parking lot of this truck stop was filled with semis. Maybe that was the difference between the two truck stops, the one by Elton’s house didn’t see many actual truckers, it was just a pit stop for ordinary drivers. This one only really saw truckers come through. The non-truck area of the parking lot was tiny, and Elton’s car was the only one there.
Elton did not realize any of that. He didn’t even see the placard, much less read it and heed it. He entered the anything-goes showerhouse.
There was a large, wide open showering area with those old-fashioned pillar showers, the entire inside looked old-fashioned, Elton thought, like something out of an early twentieth century dormitory shower. A dozen naked truckers stood among the showerhead-pillars, silently staring at Elton. They were hairy and burly, decked with muscle like bulls, nostrils flaring as they looked him up and down.
He nodded and blushed. He considered leaving because the men made him uncomfortable, but he thought it would look weak. He’d be humiliated even if no one but he and these truckers knew about it. He went to the trough urinal. He always hated those — he was sensitive about his cock size — but luckily no one else was here.
But the truckers were staring at him. He could tell. They were completely silent, but he knew they weren’t silent before he walked in. That meant they had stopped talking to watch him. If he had known about the sign, he would have surely fled.
It was one of those truckers who joined him at the trough, before Elton could even start concentrating on peeing. A man had followed him in, a burly trucker with a rough-and-tumble mustache, a very small gut and bulging shoulder muscles that were bared by his sleeveless shirt. He went by the name Manky, and on his face a lifetime of brawling left remnants in the form of his crooked, squat nose and off-kilter chin.
He whipped out the most massive dong Elton had ever seen. It was thicker than Elton’s forearm and longer than his feet. Manky wasn’t shy about it, and he stood right next to Elton even though he had plenty of room at the trough. He flopped his dick left and right.
“Whatchoo think?”
Elton blushed intensely. He had always been embarrassed about his dick size. It was just barely three inches long fully erect, and it was much shorter right now because it was a chilly day (though warm in the showerhouse) and he was scared. It shriveled up even as he looked down at it, wishing he could pee.
Manky aimed his dick at Elton’s dick and let his piss stream. He laughed when Elton jumped away, and he aimed his piss at Elton instead.
“You got a small dick, boy. Somethin’ wrong wit’choo?”
“No…”
“Well then you made a real mistake comin’ in here,” Manky said. “Get in the trough.”
“What?”
“Lay down in there. Now,” Manky said. He grabbed Elton and tossed him against the wall.
Elton yelped, and he looked around frantically for a way out. The truckers surrounded him, and he’d have to pass through a dozen of them to make it to the door. That was the only door too. There weren’t even any windows in this showerhouse except a couple narrow slits up near the ceiling. Elton would need a ladder to get up to them, and even then he probably wouldn’t fit through them.
That trucker Manky laughed, along with the others, at the terrified look on Elton’s face. Manky grabbed him again, and he threw him into the urinal trough. The stainless steel was sticky, and it was rank with the smell of piss. Elton instantly gagged. The acrid smell hit his nostrils and made his eyes water.
“Please, wait, stop!”
He punched Elton hard in the belly, hard enough to hurt, though the angle was off for Manky to punch as hard as he could. It was enough to knock the wind out of Elton. All the watching truckers guffawed. Elton writhed, gasping for air, as Manky let his hog loose and aimed it at Elton in the trough.
For a moment, nothing happened. Elton wondered if this was it, maybe it was a prank and Manky just wanted to teach him a lesson, to show that he could put him in the urinal trough and piss on him. Maybe now he’d let Elton go.
But no, Manky was serious. He sighed and let out a crooked smile when he began urinating. Piss flowed over Elton’s shirt and soaked into his skin. The bitter taste of it hit Elton’s senses, even though he shut his lips. The truckers howled from all around the showerhouse, and one of them came running.
He was a lanky mustachioed trucker with tattoos covering his hairy chest and a big swinging dick. He started pissing even before he got to the trough. “Hot damn, a ppissy piggie!” He sprayed his piss right in Elton’s gagging face, and he started making oinking hog-like noises. Manky hadn’t even finished pissing yet, so now Elton had two streams of hot urine landing on him.
“Oink! Oink!”
Elton sputtered and screamed, the truckers in the shower at the other end all coming over to watch. Then, before the first one had even begun, they all began pissing as well. The acrid urine washed over Elton’s face and soaked into his clothes. His mouth filled and overflowed with it.
“Oink, oink, pervert! Ya fuckin’ suit, comin’ in here like the pussy you is! You deserve this, piss-face!”
The oinks filled the air and resonated in the linoleum-tiled shower. It was deafening to Elton, who yelled and sobbed. He had no idea how long it lasted. It felt like he was drowning, like that piss filled his lungs. He kept trying to crawl out of the trough, but Manky shoved him back in over and over.
But finally it was done, or seemed to be — those two truckers were finished urinating. A few men showered on the other side of the showerhouse, chatting about football, as though they didn’t notice or care what was happening to Elton. Elton weakly climbed out of the trough only for Manky to shove him back in.
“C’mon, please-“
“Nah. You my piss-piggy. Our piss-piggy,” Manky said. He chuckled. “You don’t get out til I say you can get out.” He licked his teeth and looked Elton up and down. “Alright, you can get out.”
Elton thought maybe that was it, but Manky grabbed him by the hair and dragged him out of the urinal trough. His skin was soaked with piss. Manky didn’t seem to care about the urine getting everywhere. Elton screamed, but the sound of the men talking, oinking, showering, carrying on, all that overpowered Elton’s screams. Even someone walking directly past the showerhouse, like three feet from where Elton was right now, wouldn’t be able to tell that someone was screaming in here.
“C’mon piss piggie, you really did it now. I hope you love being a raunchy little bottom,” he said. “Actually scratch that. I hope you ain’t love it. I like making piss piggies squirm.”
He shoved Elton to the ground on his belly, then squatted behind him and rammed his cock — still only half-hard — into Elton’s ass. Elton screamed, and the truckers resumed their oinking.
“Oink, oink, little piggie! You came in the wrong shower fo’ sho’!”
The pain in his ass was indescribably intense, and it had only just begun. Elton wanted to writhe in agony, but Manky kept one hand on his scalp and one on the back of his neck, forcing him to remain in the same position, flat on his belly. Manky pounded his cock into him.
He grunted and hissed in Elton’s ear. His skin was tan and dirty, he smelled like car exhaust, or like diesel fumes. He had a hairy chest, and the fur scratched at Elton’s back as Manky’s muscles weighed him down.
Someone turned the showers on, so lukewarm water sprayed over Elton’s face. As least that, he thought cleaned off some of the piss. That hadn’t slowed down Manky, whose grimy face suggested he had never cared about cleanliness — as he rutted like an animal, he licked Elton’s cheek, nibbled on his ear and felt up every inch of his piss-covered body. Oink! Oink! Elton cried into the linoleum as Manky humped his dick into full erection.
“Don’t worry, lil piggie, I can make you open up…”
Whenever he encountered resistance, he punched Elton in the ribs, resulting in so much pain that Elton loosened his ass. At last Manky’s massive cock was rock hard, ramming into him. He had Elton in a tight hold, both of his hairy arms wrapped around Elton’s chest.
Elton couldn’t help but squirm, even though he could tell that was exactly what Manky wanted. Elton sobbed into his greasy forearms. He even bit down, but Manky seemed to be impervious to pain.
“That piggie got a dick like a pinkie! A pinkie-piggie!”
They rolled over the floor of the showerhouse. One moment Manky was on top, slamming his hips down into Elton’s as though he wanted to shatter it like glass. The next moment, Elton was on top, looking up at the ceiling and trying to get some leverage to pull away.
“Little dick, little pig!” the truckers chanted over and over. They started off jacking themselves off as they watched Manky cornhole Elton, but that soon changed into a circlejerk. They laughed and giggled like children — hairy, tattooed children — as they stroked each other’s fat cocks.
“Please… stop… why?”
“Hey, hey, shut up for a second,” Manky said, yelling for silence. He still had to shout to be heard over the showerheads that continued to spray lukewarm water, but the naked truckers stopped chanting. Manky grabbed Elton’s hair to bring his face up, so everyone could see it. His other tattooed forearm was pinned against Elton’s neck, his foot long cock throbbing in Elton’s guts. Manky kissed him on the ear. “This oinker wants to know why this is happenin’. Who wanna explain?”
One of the truckers stepped forward. He was a hefty man, hairy from head to toe, with long black hair. He looked like he might have some trace of Mexican heritage.
“Alright, little piss-piggie, here’s the deal,” he said. “My name is Skullhole. That ain’t my proper name, in case you was wonderin’. It’s uh… it’s what my prison bitch used to call me.” As he talked, he fed his dick into Elton’s throat. It was already hard because he had been circlejerking with the other truckers, and he leaked precum directly down Elton’s throat.
“Listen up, piss-piggie, pay attention. It’s important,” Manky said, pulling tighter on Elton’s hair to get his attention. Pain blistered up and down Elton’s body.
Skullhole continued. “You’s in the left-hand showerhouse at an Ramwide Truck Stop. They’s sometimes got two men’s showerhouses. One of ’em’s got a sign that say it’s, uh… Sort of a free-for-all. You give up yo’ right to say no by stepping foot inside this showerhouse. It’s a place for real men, men who wanna blow a load but don’t wanna worry ’bout liberal bullshit like consent.”
In one quick motion, Skullhole pulled away from Elton and punched one of the other, younger truckers in the belly. The younger man fell to the ground and groaned. Skullhole grabbed his hair and his neck and bent him over as though he was going to cornhole him just like Manky was doing to Elton.
“Hey, get off me, asshole!” the younger man said, squirming. Skullhole’s hard cock throbbed between his cheeks, but he made no effort to penetrate him.
“See? I could cornhole this young’un right here. I would too, cuz he got a pretty ass, but his daddy is a good man. I owes him a favor,” said Skullhole. He paused. “I will stick my finger in a little, just to make sure he don’t forget I could cornhole him anytime I want.” He rammed one of his fingers in the young man’s ass.
“Get ‘im, Skullhole!”
The young trucker let out an agonized howl, and he squirmed away from Skullhole, who let him go. Then he came back to Elton and rubbed his finger off on Elton’s tongue. The taste of foul asshole and grease hit his senses, making Elton’s eyes bug out. Elton gagged vociferously, even moreso when Skullhole slipped his cock back in.
True to his nom du guerre, Skullhole grabbed ahold of Elton’s head. He rammed his cock down Elton’s throat, ignoring resistance, banging and using all of his weight to get his dick in.
It felt like something in his throat was going to break, but somehow Elton’s gullet stretched to accommodate. Skullhole’s massive dick visible pressed against Elton’s neck from the inside.
“We gonna drown that bitch in cum!”
Skullhole shot a massive load, spraying it so deep in Elton’s throat he didn’t even really taste it. It wasn’t until Skullhole pulled his dick out that Elton tasted a burst of salty cum on his tongue. That massive cock flopped out of his mouth and roped around on his face, leaving a sheen of jizz and spit and who-knew-what fluids.
“Damn, his dick really is little-bitty. That’s basically a clitoris, bitch.”
“Don’t say that, man, I wouldn’t never do none of this to no female. He better be a man.”
He heaved hoarsely for breath. He was dizzy, both from the pain and from lack of oxygen. He was too tired even to cry anymore. He sat submitted limply to Manky’s plowing while he watched the truckers circlejerk above his head.
When the first trucker came, a hefty white man with long black hair and swarthy skin, he stepped forward just as he started moaning. He blushed as his trucker buddies laughed, and his tattooed muscles flexed in rolling waves.
He sprayed his cumwad right on Elton’s open mouth. Elton wanted to look away, but the pain in his ass was so intense he couldn’t bear to. He cried as cum sprayed over his face.
“Here they go, piss-piggie with the li’l prickie,” Manky said with a moan as he pulled his dick all the way out, then slowly reinserted it only when Elton’s asshole lost its numbness. That revitalized the pain in Elton’s ass. His entire body felt like it was tearing apart from the inside out.
More cum sprayed onto his face. He couldn’t even see what was happening anymore, he just felt cum covering him. It was hot and creamy, and it dripped all over him. The truckers didn’t seem to mind getting it on them — which confused Elton, because they talked like he should be humiliated for getting cummed on, but all of them got cummed on too! A lot of the younger truckers disliked circlejerking like this. They had to stroke each other’s greasy hogs. Even just after the shower, most of them remained slick and unclean-feeling, at least to those who weren’t used to it.
To Elton, it all seemed gross. He couldn’t imagine why they were calling him a pervert over and over when he was the only one not willingly participating. They were the perverts, he thought, but even if he could say that out loud right now, nobody was paying attention to his desperate pleas or his cries for help. They jacked each other’s meat as though it was going out of style, and they rubbed their dicks in each other’s cumwads on his face. Manky even got some cum on his hands and face, but he shrugged it off.
The truckers popped off like flies, coating Elton’s face in cum. Manky kept Elton’s head out of the shower water for the most part — he rammed so wildly he slid Elton all over the showerhouse — so the cum collected on his face, along with grime from the floor and spit which Manky continually spat onto Elton’s lips and nose.
Finally the truckers were all done. Huge gobs of cum dripped off his face. He could feel it seeping into his flesh. He knew he’d smell like a cumrag for days no matter how much he cleaned himself. One hairy trucker rubbed his balls over Elton’s face, collecting all of his buddies’s cum so it clung to his unkempt nest of ball-hair.
“Lick it clean, piggie!” He barked over and over.
Elton thought cum had tasted bad, but it tasted even worse when it was mixed with sweaty trucker balls and remnants of soap. The cum coated his tongue and made the salty sweat cling to the inside of his mouth. He struggled not to bite down — he knew that would give him a moment of satisfaction, but he’d probably be killed.
Finally that last brawny trucker walked away, dragging his saliva-dripping balls over Elton’s face. Pitiful weakling. They cackled and clasped each other on the back, repeatedly slapping each other’s asscheeks too. Skullhole even rammed his finger back in the younger trucker’s ass as they walked away from Elton. He wiggled his finger but didn’t stop the younger trucker from scampering away.
“Get the fuck off me, Skullhole, damn…”
“Shut up, li’l one. I still got enough nut in my balls to turn you into my next pussy.”
“Hey piss-piggie, if you stick around we’ll be back in a little while. We’ll ram you in the ass if you want.”
“Or if you don’t.”
“Yeah. If you don’t, we’ll ram you even harder.”
Elton sobbed, his lower half numb now as Manky finished. Elton could feel the orgasm rippling over Manky’s hairy muscles, which weighed down Elton’s back. Manky punched Elton even though he wasn’t resisting. He punched just to make Elton yelp and squirm some more.
“Lemme hear it…” Manky said with a loud moan that made the truckers applaud. He pointed to different spots above Elton’s crotch and around his hips. “Where you think my orgasm is? Huh? Lemme hear it when I point to where you feel it. Huh? Boy? What’s goin’ on?”
The agony was too intense for Elton to speak. He screamed into the linoleum the best he could, but Manky’s belly and chest pressed him down. That made it impossible for him to take a deep breath.
“My orgasm is e’rywhere, boy,” he said with a long, low growl aimed right in Elton’s ear. That made Elton shudder, which in turn sent a shiver of sensitive pain from his sphincter, which clenched.
Cum sprayed into Elton’s ass. It was hot and thick and it seeped into his flesh. He wept into the filthy shower floor. It was so much, it kept coming, wad after wad as though Manky was pumping it in from a reservoir. It stank already, and Elton gagged at the sensation.
“You fillin’ ‘im up now?! Lemme watch!”
A few of the truckers came over and peered just inches from Elton’s asshole. They wrinkled their noses as though they were disgusted, but they still watched intently, like scientists who had no idea how this worked.
“You one nasty-ass truck stop piggie now, bitch.”
But eventually they lost interested. Manky remained atop Elton, his dick so deep it felt like it touched every part of Elton’s innards. Every time Elton moved so much as a breath, it made his asshole ache more. Manky breathed heavy. Elton couldn’t tell if he was still cumming — which seemed impossible — or if it just felt that way because he wiggled has limpening cock, moving cum around and turning it into a frothy mess that spilled out of his ass. It coated Elton’s thighs and soaked into the linoleum floor. Since there was water on the floor, some of that santorum mess floated to Elton’s face and coated him. He tasted his own ass along with the ball-sweat, cum, saliva and more that already covered him.
The truckers filed out, still only half-dressed. They were spent, so they no longer cared. Moments later the sound of their engines roaring filled the air. Elton tried to get up, but Manky was on top of him.
“Damn, piss piggie, that was good,” Manky said with a sigh. The shower was very quiet now that the truckers were gone. Manky’s deep voice was right next to Elton’s ear, so it boomed and echoed.
“Please, get off me…” Elton sobbed.
“If you make it back out that door, you’ll be under the protection of the law,” Manky said, “So I really hope you don’t. I hope you stick around until I’m ready to ram you again.”
He burped into Elton’s face. He lifted his chest up off Elton’s back and ground his dick into Elton’s ass, moving it in a tortuous circle. Elton screamed and gagged intensely now that he could breathe. Manky punched him right in the meaty part of the back, over and over as he finished the after shocks of his orgasm.
Only then did Manky slowly back up so that his fat cock plopped out. “But I’m not gonna stop you from walkin’ out that door, unless you take a long time to get out there. I wanna give you a fair chance. Don’t nevuh say I was all bad, piss-piggie. And goddamn, if that’s the only dick you got, you shouldn’t nevuh whip it out among real men. A man with a cock like that is just beggin’ to get cornholed.”
Elton had to crawl away. When he tried to stand his ass hurt too bad. It took what felt like eons but then he made it to the door as Manky still talked. It was so heavy he strained to open it.
He stumbled outside, stark-naked, and ran into another massive trucker, like Manky but taller. Behind him were a handful more, all with sick smiles on their hairy faces.
“Fuck,” one of them said. “He made it out.”
“We’re too late.”
“Damn it!”
“I’m rammin’ one of you, I swear to god. I am not letting myself get blue-balled again.”
Elton’s naked body gleamed with cum and water, and he pushed through the dirty bodies of the men. They smelled awful too, just like the truckers, but Elton was covered in so much filth he didn’t notice. He just sobbed and staggered forward. They glared at him and muttered insults about his cock size, but Elton didn’t care. He collapsed onto the ground. He might look like a pussy right now. He admitted that. He no doubt looked like a weakling, and his ass hurt so bad he wasn’t sure he’d ever walk normally again.. But he just didn’t care about any of that.
He had made it. He was free.