Turner Coop is a recovering crackhead and a custodian at the local college, and he’s got a physique Avery craves. When they run into each other one day, Avery is willing and ready to service every inch of Turner’s manhood. Can Turner accept?
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Avery stood by the door to his English classroom, waiting. He always ended up here a few minutes before class let out — he was in the next class, Advanced Poetry-Writing Techniques with Frau Klomp. He had been looking forward to that class all last semester, and it had proven as rewarding as he hoped. He only had time on Sundays, so it was a special Sunday-only summer class.
But Frau Klomp didn’t really follow a schedule very closely. Her previous class was supposed to let out at eleven o’clock, but she usually didn’t dismiss until eleven-fifteen, sometimes even later. Avery could tolerate this inconsistency, though many of his fellow students hated it — they had other classes, work schedules, girlfriends and boyfriends, etc., that made it difficult to accept an unpredictable ending to the class. And today was Father’s Day, so most likely a lot of people had plans.
Avery, however, didn’t much care about Frau Klomp’s inconsistent schedule, except that it was annoying to show up early and have to wait in the hall.
“Howdy, fella, glory be to God,” said Turner the custodian. He jawed and jived, smiling charismatically at the college students as they streamed past him in the halls. “You there, nice to see ya again. You still got the Lord’s joy in ya heart, I feel that! Heck yes!” It wasn’t clear he was actually talking to anyone specific. He was just generally saying things, aiming them at whoever happened to be within his field of vision at the time.
Avery’s heart skipped a beat. He’d had a crush on Turner for a long time. He didn’t even get why exactly. Turner wasn’t some handsome sex-god — he was a weird Christian custodian. He was dirty blond with a mustache like a 70s porn star, a great thick one that ran down the sides of his mouth, like he was trying to grow a goattee and but the lower part could only grow by dripping off his upper lip. He was a bodybuilder, but he didn’t have an excellent body — it was fine, adorable in Avery’s eyes — Avery didn’t much like that vascular bodybuildery look — because he had (supposedly) spent forty years as a homeless crackhead. Considering his age, that suggested Turner had been a homeless crackhead when he was a teenager back in the early days of crack — Avery thought that was very possible, but he wasn’t sure he believed it. In any case, he had become a born-again Christian who “sculpted God’s temple” in the gym every day just a few years ago.
So his wiry-hobo frame had gradually filled out, until he was bulging all over with thickness and firm muscle. He looked like his body didn’t quite fit on him, like he had combined a thin man’s body with a hefty man’s muscles.
But the mustache was what really drew Avery in. He did admire a man with a proper ‘stache.
“You still prayin’, Jay-Bay?!” Turner slapped palms with a fat black football player who laughed politely (and who made a face like his name was not anything similar to Jay-Bay). “The good lord loves ya!”
“Yeah…”
Turner pushed his mop bucket through the halls. He whistled loudly. He attracted a lot of attention, both for his dirty mullet and his mustache, as well as his frequent exhortations to pray. He’d been nearly fired for it twice because students complained about his proselytizing. It did not look like any of those actions resulted in him stopping.
“Who’s got the love in they heart? Do you, huh? Li’l fella, huh?” He tried to slap palms with a short young man walking by, but he nervously shuddered and quickened his pace. Turner watched him go. “Don’t worry, God loves ya just the same, boy!”
He got to work mopping the side corridor, the foreign language hallway, which didn’t have much activity on Sundays. Turner nodded at Avery who was still standing there by the door.
“How you doin’, God’s son?”
“Uh…” Avery had never actually spoken to Turner. He blushed. “I’m… cool.”
“It’s a glorious day, ain’t it?”
“Yeah, yeah-“
“A glorious day fo’ the Lord! Hallelujah!”
“Hmm-hmm.” Avery was interrupted by the arrival of a woman.
She pushed in front of Avery, ignoring him completely, and said, “There you are! I need the keys.”
“What for?”
“I gots to drive, baby,” she said as though he should have known that.
It was obvious this was Turner’s wife. Avery had noticed the wedding ring, but he had never seen her before. Another factor that made it obvious she was his wife was that she looked, like Turner, like she had been smoking crack for decades and quit recently. Her hair was thin and straw-like, her skin yellowed, her body portly and lumpy in all the wrong ways.
Somewhat less obviously, Avery thought she was on crack again. There was a trace of herky-jerky in her movements, her voice had a warble-grunting tone to it, and her eyes had that cloudy look of a crackhead. Avery was no expert, but she looked like a current-day crackhead.
Judging from the disappointed, betrayed look on Turner’s face, he knew it too. Turner’s mustache quivered. A long silence lay between them like a coffin, and Turner was, for the first time since Avery had seen him, speechless. She fluttered and jittered like she didn’t notice the penetrating stare from her husband.
He looked down his nose at her, kindness in his eyes and sternness in his voice. “Baby, remembuh the decisions you wanna make, remembuh the life you chosen to lead, glorifying our God above-“
“Just gimme the damn keys, Turner,” she snapped. Then she added, “I gots a doctor’s appointment.”
Turner sighed and took the keys out of his pocket. He handed them over to her. Avery kept his head down, pretending he wasn’t listening. He couldn’t believe Frau Klomp hadn’t yet dismissed her class. She was still deep in the throes of a lecture, it looked like through the little window in the door. Did schedules mean nothing to her? Not everybody has the free-wheeling, haphazard lifestyle of a college English professor. She probably has literally no deadlines that matter. Avery did.
“See you, baby, I love you and God loves you and-“
“Same to you.” She virtually sprinted away from him.
Turner watched her go. He hung his head and shook it. He glanced up at Avery and frowned. “I ain’t nevuh gonna see that car again,” he said. He took a deep breath. “You ain’t looking to sell a car on the cheap, is ya?” He chuckled.
“Actually…” Avery had an idea. He could handle skipping one poetry class. “I do have a car I want to get rid of. It’s a Geo Metro, it works just fine but it’s not worth that much money anymore, it’s all beat-up. No one will buy it. It runs, no problem.”
“Really? How much? I can fix it up, yessuh, I can make it run good as new, I know all ’bout cars. The good Lord give me a mind that works like that, ya see-” He pointed to his head. “I got that mechanical brain, ya feel me? Spark plugs and that. Transmission. Mufflers. Carburatuhs. They don’t make cars with carboratuhs no more, but you know, I knows about ’em.”
“Uh-huh,” Avery said. “I’ll-“
“Startuh! I can fix a startuh, no problem.”
“Okay that’s great. I’ll give you the car for free, if you do something for me.”
“What’s that?”
“Stick it in me.”
For the second time in a long time — possibly the second time since he quit smoking crack — Turner was at a loss for words. He opened his mouth to speak but only grunted. His eyes opened wide. “The car?”
“No, I mean, I want to jack you off, and I want to lick your dick, and I want you to stick me in the ass. I know it isn’t Christian and-“
“Yeah.” Turner grabbed Avery by the head and led him forcefully — not aggressively, but firmly — into the walk-in supply closet in the foreign-language hallway. Turner’s mustache quivered on his upper lip like he was upset. His powerful arms exuded heat, and the smell of his deodorant-clad armpits assaulted Avery’s nostrils.
Avery wondered if he had miscalculated. Was Turner going to beat him up? Was he being brought into the closet just for that purpose?
“What’s ya name, son?”
“Avery.”
“You Christian, Avery?” Turner asked, and Avery nodded. Turner shook his hand in the tiny closet. “Oh that’s a good fella. I got nothin’ against no kinda folks, just so’s ya know. I loves ’em Islam’slims, with the-” He pantomimed a turban or some other head-covering. Avery just smiled and nodded as the door to the closet closed. Turner went on to make more gestures that apparently referred to Muslims, but it was dark in the closet, so all Avery could sense was some quick furtive hand movements. Then Turner turned on the single bare lightbulb, bathing the closet in light.
“Oh, I-” Avery blushed as Turner took his shirt off. His bare chest muscles rippled as though he had to use every single one to take his shirt off.
“Hmm-hmmm…” Turner let out a little moan even though nothing had happened yet. Avery hadn’t even touched him.
That was because Turner believed strongly that fornication was wrong — also that any ejaculation outside the confines of a marriage was wrong or at least less than ideal. He thought that accepting money for jacking off — or a car, in this case — was sinful. But he also believed that God forgave anything, especially sins that were inspired by momentary lust and an inability to overcome God’s urges. Besides that, Turner had long ago decided that the greatest sin was destroying his body with crack. Anything that wasn’t that was a minor sin in comparison — he wasn’t hurting anyone, except his wife — and that marriage, he thought, was all but over — and he was only doing it because he was overwhelmed by need and want and desire.
So the sooner he could make himself feel like he was “overwhelmed”, the sooner Turner could abandon his inhibitions. God would forgive anything if Turner was too aroused to control himself, and so that is exactly how aroused Turner endeavored to be.
“Hmmmm….” This time his voice was a low, throaty growl that made Avery shiver. Turner’s hand slipped onto Avery’s shoulder. Turner leaned in and kissed Avery right on the lips. His mustache scratched at Avery’s upper lip. His tongue plunged into Avery’s mouth, and the dusty, sun-choked flavor of his mouth hit Avery’s senses. Avery swooned, and his arms fluttered around Tommy, then wrapped around his shoulders and held on. Turner’s muscles rippled as he kissed Avery passionately — awkwardly at first, then passionately, so it felt like Turner forgot partway through that he was kissing a man. It felt like how he might have kissed his wife, at least back before she stole his car a few minutes ago.
When jacking men off and swallowing their loads, getting them to ramrod him like a prisoner, Avery found they were rarely willing to kiss. They were more likely to give him a reacharound than lock lips with him. He didn’t mind so much. Kissing was optional as far as he was concerned, but he did enjoy it.
So he was shocked that Turner kissed him without even a trace of hesitance. Avery hadn’t even asked him to. He stood there limply for a moment, letting Turner’s tongue explore his mouth. Then Avery’s hands gripped Turner’s chest through his coveralls.
“Boy, you makin’ me forget my religion, and on Father’s Dady!” Turner said softly, his throaty voice echoing in Avery’s ear. “Get on ya knees. You got nice soft, silky lips. Lemme feel ’em, okay? I wanna feel ’em all nice and moist on my dick. Lemme feel it.”
Avery was going to say yes, but Turner kept talking — just like he usually did, except he talked about Avery jacking him off instead of his love for God. Avery didn’t want to interrupt him, so he simply sunk to his knees without another word. Turner ran his fingers through his tangled mullet and gently pushed down on Avery’s shoulders until he was in position.
The closet filled with the scent of cleaning fluids and bleach, which clung to Turner’s bleack-speckled coveralls. Avery’s dick rocketed to attention even before he had gotten to his knees, as the smell of Turner’s manly body and his heavenly crotch got Avery’s blood flowing. He unzipped the fly of Turner’s ratty old coveralls and reached in.
“Hmmm, boy, yeah, you got nice fingers too… You makin’ me forget ’bout sin, yessuh, you makin’ me forget!” Turner said with a whoop and a slap of one palm on his thigh. Avery hadn’t even touched his dick yet, and it was one hundred percent limp still, but Turner was acting like it felt really good. Avery inhaled the zesty must of his unwashed crotch.
And then Avery finally did get his fingers on Turner’s cock, squeezing through the fly and into the humid jungle of his groin. It was hot in there, and Turner’s shaft was greasy and throbbing, veiny even though Avery only barely touched it with his fingertips. The darkened, moistened crevice of his crotch smelled strong, the scent leaking out through the open fly of his coveralls. It was funky and sour, sweet like baking bread, the warmth and humidity of it wafting out onto Avery’s face even before he had gotten the zipper fully down.
His dick was slippery with sweat, and it pulsated beneath Avery’s touch. Turner’s whole body shook from that barest of touches. He leaned back and rested his hefty arms on the shelves of the supply closet. That put his crotch at a perfect height for Avery to nuzzle. His cock slipped into Avery’s mouth.
“Take it out, boy, take it out and make it wet, make it nice and wet…” Turner closed his eyes and leaned against the wall. “Dang, boy… Dang, I say!”
Avery was surprised at how big it was. He had had no reason to think it wouldn’t be big, he just generally assumed that men with huge dicks talked about it a lot and found reasons to bring it up. But Turner, it seemed, was too Christian for that. Turner was short and skinny, tautly muscled but skinny, so it seemed like all his body parts should be small.
But his cock was well over ten inches long and so thick Avery struggled to swallow it. Avery battered it with his tongue, and he held it with two hands while he aggressively worked the tip. He hocked up a mountain of spit that ran down the veiny shaft and soaked into Tommy’s off-black, off-blond, off-gray pubic hair.
When he was fully erect, Turner slapped Avery over the face with his rod — that was something Turner remembered being done to him in his crackhead days. Or had he just witnessed it in prison? He couldn’t remember now. All that seemed like distant memories. Everything from when he was smoking crack was just filed into one confused bucket, and Turner couldn’t get anything coherent out of that bucket.
“Aaaaah…” Turner recalled now. Back when he was living on the streets, man stuff was something that just sort of happened — he’d wake up sixty-nining a man and have no idea why or when he started. Not just men, mind you, he’d participated in some massive orgies, spent hours licking tight pussies and generally just gotten laid way more often than you might think a hobo did.
It had happened a lot less since he quit the drugs, and even less since he got married. He couldn’t even remember the last time he got jacked off by a man. There weren’t nothing wrong with it, as he saw back before he became a Christian. Nowadays, of course… everything that ain’t Christ-full is a sin, and Christ was nowhere to be found in this funk-stinky closet. Turner moaned and gripped Avery’s head, drilling back and forth as he slid his dick down Avery’s throat.
“C’mon, boy, get it down deep…” His voice was hot, gruff, urban and throaty, and Avery wanted to tease him so he’d keep talking and making demands. So Avery just licked his shaft instead of jacking on it. That was hot enough to get Turner hard, but he still found it frustrating. “C’mon, boy, what’choo doin’? You just playin’? Ain’t ya? You ain’t takin’ nothin’ seriously, I see that. You wanted to jack on it, so put it in ya mouth, son, and swallow.”
“Hmmm… Okay,” Avery said with a flirty giggle that made Turner grunt. Avery deep-throated his shaft in one smooth motion. Turner grunted again, and his whole body shook.
“Damn…” Turner couldn’t remember if he’d ever been jacked off this good by a male. His cock throbbed at full erection, and it rubbed in Avery’s throat, which squeezed the shaft and sent wave after wave of pleasure through Turner’s body.
He stood on his toes and threw his head back so hard his mullet slammed into a shelf, and Turner groaned in pain. He lifted his hands up, unsure if he should hold Avery’s head or not — would that be too gross? Would Avery dislike it? Would it make Avery go slower or worse? Turner didn’t want to do anything that would interrupt the mind-blowing pleasure suddenly flowing through his veins.
“You ready… to smash?” Avery asked with another flirty laugh. He recognized that Turner liked that feminine sound, so he did it again and again as he turned around and bent over.
“Hmm-hmm…” Turner couldn’t believe how much like a female Avery’s ass felt. It was plump and smooth and round and had a very feminine shape. He turned out the light, bathing the closet in darkness and making it almost impossible to tell that Avery was not a woman. Turner murmured a brief prayer begging for forgiveness, but he reminded God that he had merely fallen prey to a victimless (nearly-so) sin because he was so uncontrollably horny since his wife no longer jacked him off.
Should I divorce her?
That thought sent a chill up Turner’s spine. He didn’t want to divorce her. His church didn’t even allow it. He couldn’t even ponder that. He’d have to find a way to make the marriage work.
The nice thing about cornholing males, Turner thought but didn’t say, was that anal was “allowed” — not really “allowed”, of course, but anal wasn’t especially prohibited if it was with a man. Turner hadn’t cornholed his wife in the ass because that was a sin (and because she said no). Jacking off with a man was already lust, and that’s a sin in the Bible, so what did it matter in which hole it occurred?
Turner grinned, glad that it was too dark in here for Avery to see how excited he was. He hadn’t cornholed anyone in the ass in years, and he didn’t do anal sex with his wife because it was forbidden in the Bible, or so Turner did believe. He spread Avery’s cheeks and slipped his dick in, awkwardly at first because it was dark and he was unpracticed — and he didn’t want to touch Avery’s ass any more than absolutely necessary.
“Damn!” Avery bit his lip as a jolt of pain hit him. His asshole stretched. Once the tip got in though, he accommodated Turner’s cock the best he could, and he was able to allow more and more of that massive slab of manhood to fill him up.
“Shit, boy, take it…” Turner murmured, his voice soft because people could be heard walking by the supply closet. It wasn’t lockable. Someone could come in any time. That seemed unlikely, simply because nobody here had any reason to open the supply closet, except for Turner himself.
Avery’s head hit the door, making it rattle. He gasped and tried to squirm away, but Turner was oblivious — and didn’t care that much about being caught — and just kept cornholing. Avery let out a howl of desire, which he covered up by biting his lip. The door would have rattled loudly on its hinges, but Avery instead pressed it hard, forcing it to sit tautly in its threshold rather than loosely moving with Avery’s writhing. Vast pleasure wracked Avery’s body, making him writhe and twist in Turner’s grasp. Avery panted and begged for more.
Turner moaned. It was a loud sound, but it didn’t carry well and its origin wasn’t obvious to the few students walking past the closet. They looked around, but assumed it was someone making a joke. Avery would have screamed if he could, but the pleasure that exploded throughout his body was so intense it was all he could do to breathe heavily.
“Shit…” Avery whispered. He jutted his ass back to meet Turner’s dick, until his smooth cheeks rubbed against Turner’s coarse pubic hair. Turner’s balls slapped against his asscheeks.
“Here I go, boy, take it, you gonna take e’ry drop, right? I don’t wanna pull out. Don’t make me spill my seed-“
“No, don’t pull out. Cum inside me, please, please…” Avery said breathlessly. He leaned against the door, just inches from the people filing by in the hallway.
Cum sprayed into him, great creamy torrents of it. His semen was thick and warm, the heat seeping into Avery’s flesh in waves. Turner kept going — he’d been trying not to masturbate lately, and his wife hadn’t been putting out — because he was so horny it hurt. His balls felt over-full, like he was a young man again, and all he could think about was creaming Avery’s ass with his load.
It kept flowing, wad after creamy wad jetting into Avery’s guts. Avery jacked himself off onto the door itself, but Turner didn’t even notice that. He was entirely focused on his own desire. A part of him did notice his cell phone beep, but he ignored it. He just gripped Avery’s asscheeks and held on tight.
“”Hell yeah, boy…” Turner moaned. He stayed in, even as his dick limpened. He didn’t pull it out. He just watched it throb in Avery’s clenching ass.
Eventually, however, Avery had had enough. He pulled off Turner’s cock and sighed. He grabbed some paper towels from one of the shelves and cleaned his ass off, and Turner’s cock too. When he touched the shaft, Turner’s whole body shook and his muscles flexed all together.
“Damn, Turner, that was good,” Avery said with a giggle. “I’m glad you decided to sin with me.”
“Will you go to church with me on Sunday?” Turner asked even before his breathing had recovered. He wiped sweat off his forehead.
“Uh…”
“I done somethin’ wit’ you, you should do somethin’ wit’ me,” Turner said. “I tell you what: I meet you early, okay? You pick me up in the car you about to give me. You can touch me up all kinda ways. Once we get there, I gonna be recommittin’ myself to a life of virtue, and so will you, I hope, wit’ God’s love. We both gonna be seekin’ forgiveness, and we gonna get it, son.”
“Oh, uh, well… Okay,” Avery said. He sighed. Had he really just agreed to go to church? At least, he thought, he’d get to mess around beforehand. He’d have never agreed if he was foggy with post-nut brain.
Turner finally remembered his cell phone beeped. He took it out of his pocket and scowled. “Car’s gone. She said it got stolen.”
“You don’t believe her.”
“She done sold it, I know that. She got a big ol’ bag of crack. I bet I won’t see he for a couple days, she gonna be talkin’ ’bout she at her sister’s,” Turner said. He sighed. “Guess I’ll see you on Sunday.”
“Yeah, see you then,” Avery said. “I can’t wait to make you forget about her.”