scolding – Mansploitation

The Sailor’s Armpits

Rob loves raunchy men, so when he goes to the docks, it’s time to worship the sweat-soaked filth of a Greek sailor’s unwashed armpits! Can Rob handle the raunch?

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“Swallow your cum. Swallow your cum.” Rob stood dockside as men streamed off the S.S. Admiral Smikovsk. They were a diverse group of men: Jamaicans, Brazilians, Greeks, Filipinos, Nigerians, Nicaraguans, probably more, but Rob most expected those nationalities based on his inspection of the ship’s manifest. They were deliciously filthy, with blackish smudges of soot and coal on their skin, unwashed beards from weeks at sea, most of them with half-hardons from the moment they walked off the ship.
The reason most of them had hardons was the same reason Rob found it difficult to get the men he wanted — they were macho, and there were women galore.
“Swallow your cum. Swallow your cum. Swallow your cum. Eat your ass.” Rob made eye contact with as many of them as he could. They mostly winced and looked away.
“Hey. Hey, whatcha doin’?” said a stout man with a colorful hat and a dour disposition. Rob didn’t need to be an expert to identify him as a pimp. The pimp scowled at him. “You bein’ a distraction, boy.” He sucked on his teeth. His New Jersey stawk was thick and cloying, like he spoke through a layer of engine oil. “My girls is busy, y’know, ya feel me, boy? They lookin’ for a man. That’s all. They need a date for tonight, and maybe tomorrow night too. Ya feel me, boy? I bet you do.”
“Uh-huh,” Rob said. “Nobody’s taken me up on it, so I don’t think I’ve stolen any of your clients-“
“What’d I just fuckin’ say? Huh? Did I say you was distracting they clients? That ain’t even… They don’t see clients, okay, they are serious ladies, doing serious things… with their boyfriends, understand me? They’s out here looking for boyfriends, and sometimes, they just might find one. Ain’t nothin’ improper goin’ on here. What I accused you of, however, that’s improper — I said you was bein’ distracting. Girls is distracted real easy. It’s them tits, it keeps ’em from gettin’ focused. That’s why men with big chests is dumbasses too, and that’s a fact. I know you ain’t gonna steal none of my girls’s boyfriend. That’s on account of these men don’t cotton to perverts, and my girls know how to satisfy a man. Ya understand me?”
“Uh-huh. I see your point,” Rob said.
“You wanna work for me? I can help you find dick,” the pimp said with a frown like he really hoped Rob would say no.
“No, thank you. I’m very good at that already.”
“Thank god,” the pimp said. “Look, you had best get the fuck off my dock. My girls work here-“
“But I’m not stealing your business-“
“You is stealin’ my girls’s hearts! They ain’t gonna be so eager to find new boyfriends when they see you offerin’ to get on ya knees for nothin’. It’s discouraging to my girls’s capitalistic spirit, ya feel me?”
“I guess…” Rob gulped. This pimp scared him. Rob mumbled an apology and walked away. He entered the crowd of men walking away from the dock. The lanky Latino walking past him had a visible hardon bulging against the fabric of his sailor’s bellbottoms. He popped the low collar of his shirt. The Latino was already touching his dick through his pants as he approached the rather trashy women calling for him on land.
“Swallow your cum?” Rob said, but the Latino completely ignored him. He took his dick out, said something in Spanish and disappeared among the prostitutes. His cock hung free as he raced to take out the wad of cash in his pocket. Rob watched it dangle and twitch, getting hard, the foreskin slowly retracting as the Latino stroked it.
The docks were amazing. Rob didn’t want to leave without seeing the docks, and to bathe in the glorious hunks who filled it with their muscles and swagger and massive cocks. Men had poured out of the ship, hardons already evident — they knew there were girls waiting for them. The girls smiled and cooed, and blushed bashfully when the men kissed them and took out their cocks.
“Go’n, hoss!”
“Do it, Lyle!”
“Lyle, Lyle, Lyle!”
Lyle turned out to be a rather skinny young farmlad in an ill-fitting sailor’s uniform — obviously new to the merchant marine — who approached Rob with a nervous tremble. He gulped and went pale, fingers trembling as he let his massive dick flop out. He lowered his bellbottoms just enough to bare his crotch as he looked away, watching his friends instead of Rob.
His friends laughed so hard Rob couldn’t tell what was going on. Obviously this was some sort of joke or prank, or a hazing episode. Rob touched Lyle’s cock, which twitched beneath his fingers, and then Lyle went running back to his buddies with his eyes opened wide.
“He did it!”
“You squeamish pansy! It’s just a goddamn finger!”
One of the older sailors with Lyle looked at Rob. “Go to prison, pervert! You’ll find plenty of men there.” Then they all walked away. Lyle’s cheeks were bright red. His friends clasped him on the back, and one of them even grabbed Lyle’s cock as a joke, making them all laugh.
Rob was left alone. The S.S. Admiral Smikovsk was empty of people now, presumably. Rob watched the prostitutes pair off (in some cases in larger ratios than pairs). It seemed so far that this dock was more difficult than he had thought.
It had seemed easy. Sailors loved to get a load off and needed money and weren’t usually too squeamish about man-on-man contact. That was perfect.
But those prostitutes… it was hard to get a man to swing downlow with a gaggle of beautiful women beckoning. Or at least somewhat attractive women, Rob thought, whose lack of attractiveness was equivalent to their willingness to fuck. He sighed and decided to go back to his hotel. It was run-down and nasty, crawling with trashy man who, Rob suspected, would be willing to let him swing on their meat for a little consideration. However, Rob didn’t want that. He was here to get a taste of a raunchy sailor. What was the point of visiting a port city if not to jerk off some sailors?
Maybe, he thought, he should find a bar frequented by sailors. Whoever was unable or unwilling to find/pay a female would still be there late at night, and Rob might be able to get a taste of sailor meat then. Of course they’d be drunk, which was disappointing — Rob preferred his men fully conscious.
He turned around, but then stopped because he heard shouting from onboard the ship. The only word he could hear clearly was fuck, but there were definitely other insults, some of which were not in English.
Then two men were visible, and Rob’s knees went weak. One of them — presumably the captain — was a stout older man with an unappealing beard. Rob ignored him and zeroed in on the second man.
He was Nikos — Rob got that from the shouting — and he was the strongest sailor Rob had seen yet. He was tall and broad-shouldered, Greek with swarthy skin the color of toasted grain and an intensely hooked nose, a square jaw like a warrior, and so much body hair his sailor’s uniform barely fit. The fur poked out the wide collar. He was muscular but not big, and he walked with a heavy gait, like his boots were cast-iron.
He was utterly filthy. Rob had no idea why, but would soon learn that Nikos had snuck a rather large amount of alcohol onboard at the last port, and had been selling it at rather exorbitant prices to the other sailors. He had been punished by being sent to shovel coal for the last few days, and at such a feverish work-schedule that he didn’t bathe during that time.
So his clothes were plastered to his skin with sweat, and smudges of black coal dust and soot splattered over and stained much of his face. His clothes appeared to be more clean of coal — presumably he had dug coal naked, or at least in different clothes than these, but wearing them over his foul body had soaked them in sweat and dirt.
“You no-good pissant! When you come back, I’ll search you so good I will tickle your tonsils from behind! If you ever try to sneak that shit on my ship again, I swear to Christ, Nikos-!”
That was all Rob heard because Nikos turned around and exploded in anger as well. He shouted in Greek, fingers running through his dense, tangled mat of black curls. He made some sort of rude gesture that Rob didn’t understand. It wasn’t clear who he shouted at, as the port crawled with sailors, laughing, pointing, shouting at each other. Nikos must have been talking to one of them.
Eventually Nikos made it to the dock, away from the ship and his captain amd whoever he was arguing with a moment ago. He scowled, but he didn’t seem to notice Rob at all. He turned around and made that gesture again, which raised his arms and bared his armpits just inches from Rob’s face — Nikos still hadn’t noticed Rob because he was focused on his argument — sending a wave of intensely acrid sweat over Rob’s nostrils. It was funky and wild, and it made Rob’s heart skip a beat.
That gave Rob an idea. He hadn’t given much thought to what he wanted to do with his sailors — usually he had to let his men choose what they were comfortable with, since many wouldn’t go as far as Rob wanted.
But those armpits were incredible. He was so hairy Rob drooled to look at him. That bushy beard, and the dense growth of armpit hair that looked like a whole nother crotch. Rob giggled, eyes mesmerized by the sight of Nikos’s arm-bush, nose wrinkling at the waves of stale, fetish man-scent that assaulted his nostrils.
“Suck your armpits. Suck your armpits.” Rob’s dick stiffened as Nikos’s greasy body wafted his stink over Rob’s face. “Suck your armpits. I’ll suck your armpits, lick all that sweat up. I’ll worship your armpits.”
But Nikos just muttered to himself in Greek, paying no mind to the small, lithe man talking about armpits next to him. He took a wallet out of his pocket, then a coin-purse. He counted his change. He had very little weekend. He wasn’t getting paid today — he had leave for the weekend, but the captain had refused to pay him due to his continued disobedience. That’s what he was shouting about when he caught Rob’s attention.
He gulped. He barely had enough to buy a meal tonight. He certainly wouldn’t be able to get drunk or hire a prostitute. He could rob someone, he thought, he sometimes did that — he wasn’t a bad man, and he’d never hurt anyone, but he did sometimes rob rich people to fund his lifestyle.
“Lick your armpits. Hey, uh, man? I’ll lick your armpits for twenty bucks. I’ll give you twenty bucks to let me go at your armpits-“
Finally Nikos turned around and realized Rob was speaking to him. It took him a moment to process what Rob had said. Then he furrowed his brow.
“I’ll give you two hundred dollars,” Rob said. He pulled out a stack of twenty-dollar bills — that was enough by far to get drunk, eat a fine meal, fuck a woman — possibly not even a prostitute — and pay for a hotel room by himself. He dangled it in front of Nikos’s face.
Nikos’s eyes opened wide. “What?” He had a noticeable Greek accent, but it wasn’t real heavy. He had been speaking English since he was a boy. He had learned it from a Brit though, so some of his words were tinged with an upper-class British accent.
“I want to lick your armpits, suck them all over, drink all your sweat,” Rob said. He came closer. “Please? Let me lick your pits.”
“Lick my armpits? Why? What does that mean?”
“It means…. Exactly what it sounds like. I want to lick your armpits. I’m into pit worship,” Rob said. He blushed a little at Nikos’s harsh glare. Of course pit worship was not a known thing to most men, so Nikos had to deduce what it meant. He still assumed he had missed something, but he didn’t want to look like a fool by asking again.
Nikos nodded. He looked around to make sure no one was nearby who knew him. Nobody seemed to be paying much attention anyway — sailors went straight for the girls and ignored pretty much everything else. Virtually no one had even yet clocked Rob’s existence. Nikos tried to grab the money from Rob, but Rob tucked it back away in his pocket.
“I will need the money to rent a hotel room,” Nikos said. “So I can shower. Then I will… I will let you do what you wish.”
Rob shook his head. “You have completely misjudged the point of pit worship. Let’s go, I know a spot.”
“What do you mean? Misjudged how? What is pit worship?”
“I already said,” Rob said with a laugh. “It’s licking your armpits. Like, a lot. You misjudged because you thought I wanted you to shower first. That ruins the whole thing. There’s no point in you showering first. I might as well lick a bar of soap. I want to suck your armpits.”
Nikos frowned like he was confused. His English was good, but he assumed he was missing something. “I will not… You may not put your… manhood, uh… in my armpit.”
Rob rolled his eyes, having difficulty controlling not laughing at Nikos. “That’s not my intent. Neat idea, but not my plan. Maybe somebody else, some other time.” He led Nikos into an alley near the beach, where there was a little concealed area behind a mound of trash in the back of the alley.
Nikos wrinkled his nose. “I feel dirty already, I am very sweaty and you will not enjoy my body odor-“
“Oh my god, Nikos, you still don’t get it. How did your people invent democracy? Okay, stop talking, you’re making me even hornier,” Rob said. “I’m gonna blow my wad early.” As soon as they were both behind the mound of trash, Rob dove his face into Nikos’s chest. He had that sailor’s shirt with the very open collar, so Rob could get right into the greasy valley between Nikos’s pecs, which were especially firm right now because he had been using them for days to shovel coal. Nikos’s eyes opened wide.
To Nikos, doing anything like this when he was sober was a new experience. He had been raised to believe it was only an ex-con would ramrod a man knowingly, but in the merchant marine that qualifier — knowingly — had evolved to the point that it barely seemed to matter. As long as the sailor could pretend he thought it was a woman, it wasn’t “knowingly sinful” and therefore didn’t count.
A lot of times, ships had one or two sailors who would put on fishnet stockings and spray on some perfume, and everybody would pretend to think they were a real woman. Nikos did that too. Pretending made it feel more real, and he could ramrod those men for hours fooling himself that he was making love to a woman.
But he was sober now and couldn’t pretend to be confused, and there was a chance he could fuck a real woman. Rob wasn’t even bothering to dress like a lady or wear a wig, or even any perfume. Nikos stood there like a statue because he didn’t want to give the impression that he was becoming aroused and because he still wasn’t sure what Rob was doing or what he expecte from Nikos.
“I will need a woman to get hard. Or at least you will need to act like a woman,” Nikos said with an embarrassed grunt as Rob pulled his bellbottoms down. His trunk-like thighs were covered in dense, coarse black hairs, matted to his skin with sweat. Rob licked a trail from his thighs up his chest — lifting his shirt up over his body — and sucking down all the sweat he could get to. He was surprised and elated to see Nikos didn’t wear any underwear, his dick just flopped freely out, uncut and gleaming.
The scent of his unwashed crotch was acrid and intense, and it brought tears to Rob’s eyes. He gave Nikos’s dick a stroke, just to get him started. It throbbed in his hand. It was hot and clammy, unwashed for days, maybe more than a week. Nikos furrowed his brow like he only just now understood what was happening.
“How long will this take? I can’t spend all evening-“
“Relax, just gimme… an hour. Less than an hour, probably,” Rob said. “Lift your arms.” He nuzzled Nikos’s armpit with his arms tightly at his side, then he lifted them and the fragrantly fruity scent of his rancid armpits hit Rob’s nostrils.
“Ah…. That is nasty. You’re just licking my armpit. What… is that?” Nikos said, furrowing his brow as he watched. He was surprised to learn that Rob had been entirely literal about licking his pits.
It was somewhat ticklish, but Nikos at first didn’t think much of it. It was an awkward situation, standing with another man in a disgusting alley, worrying that someone might come around the corner anytime. He kept looking up to be sure no windows aimed down here on this side of the trash.
But it wasn’t unpleasant. Nikos’s dick wouldn’t get hard like this — which was fine with Rob, since he would rather drag this out — yet it did throb a bit beneath Rob’s touch. Rob even dropped his own pants and let his dick joust with Nikos’s as he slathered spit all over Nikos’s armpit. He slurped down every drop of sweat, and he sucked on every one of the fine hairs of Nikos’s armpits.
Saliva dripped down his powerful chest, matting his body hair to his skin. Nikos still tried not to think about it. Looking at it was gross because Nikos didn’t want to think about what that would taste like. It was probably so moist with sweat, he thought, and gritty with salt, and bitter from the coal dust. Watching Rob’s tongue made Nikos’s tongue taste it too, so he looked away.
Rob moaned. His own cock leaked precum over Nikos’s shaft. Nikos ignored it — he and his fellow Greek sailors thought little of touching dicks when they shared a prostitute, so letting Rob joust with him didn’t feel so strange. He was not squeamish, after all. He sighed.
Was this really going to take an hour? An hour of his armpit being licked? Nikos sighed again, even louder, and rolled his eyes as Rob switched to his other freshly-funky armpit.
Still, for two hundred dollars, Nikos could spend an hour.
The taste was potent and pure stank all over again. Rob moaned, his voice breaking, his whole body cringing. Precum flowed freely over Nikos’s shaft now, which gleamed, sticky and creamy. Nikos was almost hard now.
And then, like a switch being flicked, it felt good.
Nikos’s grunted and moaned. His knees went weak, and for a moment, Rob supported him with his hands on Nikos’s dick. His heavy, sweat-slickened body rubbed against Rob, who could never have held him up for more than a few seconds. Nikos leaned against the brick wall.
He threw his head back and moaned. He couldn’t believe that his armpits felt good. It was his dick that really sent waves of pleasure through his body, but it was Rob’s tongue snaking back and forth between both armpits that made that pleasure grow, giving him an erection that throbbed against Rob’s own hardon.
Both men’s precum flowed over their shafts, lubricating Rob’s hands, which both rubbed up and down in sync with Rob’s tongue flickering over the moist valley of Nikos’s armpits. His biceps were huge and firm, flexed hard as brick now.
“Ah, goddamn, I’m going to-” Nikos bit his lip, and his whole muscled body shook as he orgasmed. It looked so intense it hurt. His knees buckled again, but he leaned against the wall for support instead of relying on Rob.
Rob dropped to his knees, kneeling among the spilled trash bags. He hurried to lower his head and let both of Nikos’s heavy, sour balls plop into his open mouth.
He kept both hands on Nikos’s shaft, which was already throbbing and beginning to spray his first wad of cum when his sac slipped into Rob’s mouth. Having not showered in days, his balls stank powerfully, the sweat dripping in rivers down Rob’s throat. Even though Rob loved mansweat of any kind and in any quantity, this was enough to make him gag and choke.
It certainly didn’t stop him though. His tongue snaked out to Nikos’s nasty taint as cum sprayed up. Rob jacked his cock off with both hands, giggling at the feel of his balls rising up in his sac. Rob could sense the cum coursing up his sac as wad after wad shot straight up.
“Ah, damn…” Nikos grunted. “Nai, afto efnai kalo…” He repeated that a few times — Rob didn’t know Greek, and he was too involved in suckling Nikos’s sweaty ballsac to ask.
Some of it coated Nikos’s chest, matting his fur to his skin, but much of it just dripped right back down on Nikos’s shaft or on Rob’s face. Nikos shuddered and shook. He was surprised at how good it felt, since after all, it was “technically speaking”, just a handjob. His dick hadn’t even gotten wet.
But Rob gave surprisingly expert handjobs, and Nikos he shot a massive load that coated Rob’s face and Nikos’s dick, where it dripped down onto Rob’s body. Then Rob licked a trail up from Nikos’s nasty balls — which now just smelled of saliva — back to his shaft. Rob sucked down every drop of sour-sweet cum there, the saltiness bringing tears to his eyes. He loudly slurped on the mess of fluids on Nikos’s cockshaft, and the sensation of Rob’s mouth on his sensitive knob made Nikos gasp, muscles rippling, as he stood up on his toes.
At last, he was done, Rob’s own load congealing warmly on the trashy pavement. Rob sat back and plopped his ass on the garbage. He lazily reached up to stroke Nikos’s limp dick, making Nikos’s hairy body tremble with post-orgasmic bliss. His brown skin had already gleamed with sweat, but now much of it was covered in either semen or spit or both, so he was positively shimmery.
Nikos suddenly felt cold and dirty. He really wanted to take a shower, and he was annoyed that he hadn’t been able to before leaving the ship. He let out a menacing growl when he realized Rob hadn’t paid him yet. Rob hurried to hand over the money, the full two hundred dollars, which he counted out in twenty-dollar bills in Nikos’s hand.
“Have fun this weekend,” Rob said. “When you find a prostitute, you should pay extra to fuck her in the ass.”
“Why?”
Rob shrugged like the answer should have been obvious. “Because it’s awesome.” He laughed. “Or so I’ve been told, I don’t know much about women.”
Nikos grunted and put his clothes on. Now that he had his money, all he could really think about was getting away from Rob before he blew his reputation. That and he still desperately needed a shower. He walked away, ignoring Rob’s eyes aimed at his ass.
Rob smiled and sighed. He leaned back in the garbage. Had he had his fill of sailor meat? He thought so. But it was just armpits, there were more sailors and more body parts, and Rob was ready to track down every single one.

Reacharound From a Stepfather

Fletcher doesn’t like his new stepdad, who’s a biker. But when Fletcher comes home from college for spring break, he has to spend time… and a bed with him, which means Fletcher’s about to see his stepdad Sagan in a whole new light. Can he handle what Sagan has in store for him?

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Fletcher didn’t like his new stepfather, and the more time they spent together, the less he liked him. He knew it made him seem like a whiny kid instead of the young adult college student he actually was, but he couldn’t help it.
Until last year, his mother had always been a liberal, educated woman with a professional career as a paralegal. Then she met Sagan. He was a biker, a redneck and a mechanic, a rough, hairy and tattooed thug, walking with a pimp lean even though he’s white, muscles like a baseball player… They fell in love, and Sagan convinced her it was wrong for a woman to work outside the home.
And so that was that, she quit her job. She began speaking in a Southern accent and reminded people all the time that she was “Alabama-born” — that was technically true, but she had been born in Alabama while her parents passed through on the way to their home in Dover. She was really a Delawarean.
Luckily Fletcher was in college by then. He didn’t have to see Sagan very often, but when he did, he became annoyed by his redneck antics every time. Tonight he was home for spring break, he’d be leaving tomorrow to go on a trip with his friends, so he only had to get through one night with Sagan in the house.
He went to bed early, while Sagan and his friends were still outside smoking cigarettes in the dark and talking about motorcycles. Sagan knew everything about bikes and made sure everyone was aware of it. Fletcher really hated him and his stupid redneck voice. That holler in his accent made this whole house feel like a trailer park.
This family used to be nice. Back when his biological father was here, it wasn’t like this. Mom was sophisticated, smart, professional. The house was clean, and there were never motorcycles revving outside over and over. Why did they have to be so loud?
Fletcher pulled his pillow over his face, and he groaned into it. Outside, the rednecks drawled on and on like youtube videos.
“Them Jap bikes ain’t that bad. I wouldn’t nevuh buy one, but they ain’t as shitty as they used to be.”
“Don’t ever ask me when I’m sober cuz I’ll deny it, but I’d love to buy a Mitsuhama.”
“Chicks dig them bikes, they think they’s sexy. And quiet, girls don’t like loud bikes.”
“If my bitch ever said she ain’t like a bike cuz it’s too loud, I’d bend her over the revving engine and fuck some sense into her. She’ll either go deaf or get smart with a quickness.”
That last voice was Sagan, or so Fletcher suspected. They all sounded the same to him, that same drawling redneck accent. He had told his mother before about the terrible, misogynistic things he said, but she didn’t care. “That’s just his way, sweetie,” was what she said. “He don’t mean it. He just talk rough. He spent time in prison, y’know.”
Fletcher didn’t care why Sagan talked like that. He didn’t like anyone talking about his mother like she was some common slut. But there was nothing he could do, so he just huddled under his covers, trying to pretend the noise wasn’t keeping him awake.
Did they all realize how loud they were being? It wasn’t normal in any neighborhood, was it? To be this loud at night? Who revs engines in the middle of the night?!
“Lemme head in there, guys. I’ll be back. I got some… one to do.”
“You gonna fuck the missus? We’ll help you out if’n you want.”
Sagan must have made some kind of face, because Fletcher didn’t hear him say anything, but the other men laughed. He hoped he wasn’t going to have to hear Sagan and Mom having sex. That would be awful. Fletcher would have to move out.
The front door opened. Sagan snorted and spat on the ground before entering. That was another habit Fletcher found revolting — Sagan spat often, like a baseball player.
After the front door slammed shut, Fletcher heard his stepfather come into the hall. There, he stopped for what seemed like a long time. Fletcher stayed as motionless and silent as possible, buried under his blankets.
Sagan’s heavy footsteps resumed, walking down the hall, but they stopped in front of Fletcher’s room.
“Stick it in her, Sagan! Stick it in her good!”
“Ooh, Sagan, I love you!”
“I love you too, babuh. Hmm-hmm.” They all laughed at that impression of Sagan. Did they think he sounded like Elvis? It sounded like an Elvis impression.
Fletcher rolled over. He pretended to be asleep when Sagan opened the door to his room. The smell of cigarette smoke, engine oil and sweat filled the air, and Sagan’s broad chest heaved with his breathing, like he was out of breath even though he wasn’t.
“Hey, Fletcher,” Sagan said quietly, a leer deep in his voice. “You awake?”
Pretending to be groggy, Fletcher rolled back over and faced him. “Kinda.”
Sagan sat on the edge of the bed, which weighed down the mattress and forced Fletcher to move closer to him. His body pressed against Sagan’s muscular ass right where he sat. Fletcher scooted further away, but the angle of the mattress forced him closer.
In truth, he kind of liked it next to Sagan’s powerful body. Fletcher didn’t like him, but he did appreciate Sagan’s muscular frame. Fletcher found the male form pleasing, at least when it was muscular and well-formed like Sagan. In the light, Sagan’s body was pockmarked with scars and faded prison tats, but in the darkness, he was just a masculine silhouette whose shape made Fletcher’s eyes open wide.
His smell was strong too in the darkness. That aroma, combining manliness and motorcycle and cigarette smoke, was intoxicating and heady, and it made Fletcher dizzy. He inhaled deeply of it.
“I know you don’t like me,” Sagan said.
Fletcher shrugged. “I don’t hate you.”
“That’s nice,” Sagan said. He placed one hand on Fletcher’s shoulder. “I love yer mama. You might not believe it, but I really do. I got s’r’uss feelin’s for her. You believe me?”
Fletcher didn’t respond. It hadn’t occurred to him to even have an opinion on that. He didn’t like his stepfather, he didn’t want the relationship to continue, he didn’t want Sagan to love his mother.
But Fletcher hadn’t considered whether it was true or not. His mother had her own history and goals and secret longings, and Sagan did too. For a moment, it felt like running into a teacher out in the community, it was surprising to learn, or rather to feel viscerally, that they were real people with their own lives, inner feelings, hopes and fears. His mother too, she wanted love, she believed Sagan loved her, and until this very moment, Fletcher had never considered this relationship in any way other than how it affected him.
Did he believe Sagan loved his mother? Well… It couldn’t be a scam, right? Mom didn’t have any money. Why else would Sagan marry her?
But that didn’t mean it was real love. Just because they both believed they were in love didn’t mean they were true loves, in the Disney, Hallmark, romcom kind of way. Or did it? What made some loves true and others not? Permanence? Is there no way to know if love is real except to wait a couple decades and see if it remains? No other emotion is defined that way.
But Fletcher didn’t say any of those things out loud.
Sagan sighed and stripped off his leather jacket. He carefully draped it over the chair by the bed. Then he took off his stained t-shirt and the torn wifebeater he wore under that. His powerful chest, brimming with tattoos, was barely visible in the dim light of night.
“I ain’t hear no moanin’ yet, Sagan!”
“Oooh, ooh, Sagan, I love your tiny dick-!”
“I wantchoo to fill me with every single millimeter! That’s right, both millimeters, all the way in!”
“You havin’ trouble gettin’ hard, Sagan?”
“You can ignore them,” Sagan said. “Sorry they so loud. They’s a bunch of assholes.”
“Yeah, they are.”
A long pause followed as Sagan’s grease-stained, callused fingers caressed Fletcher’s shoulder. It made Fletcher shudder and scoot closer to Sagan. “You don’t got a girlfriend, huh? You never did, right?” he said.
Fletcher shook his head and blushed, glad that Sagan couldn’t see how red his face was. In the darkness of his unlit room, he found himself inexorably drawn to Sagan’s visible asscrack as he pondered how to respond. Sagan had probably never been eighteen years old and single. He was probably fucking mad chicks back then. And now. Or at least until he got married. And maybe he still was fucking around outside of his marriage.
“Yer mama is still gonna love you,” Sagan said. “She loves you more than me, y’know. You might not think it, but she do. She told me that last week. I been telling her how to think and how to dress and how to vote and she just accept it. Then I tell her you’re a bit of a whiner, and she slapped me. She said she love you more than me and if I ever say somethin’ not nice about you again, she’ll leave me. She said she ain’t gonna put out for a month to punish me.”
“Really?”
“Fer real, man,” Sagan said. “I ain’t even mean to insult you or nuttin’. I was just annoyed you got all whiny about me treading in mud and engine grease on the floor.” He snorted again and spat in the trash can. Fletcher was grossed out but also intensely aroused. He found that he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Sagan’s muscular back, which writhed when he hocked a loogie and spat.
“Okay.”
Sagan bent over and began undoing his heavy black boots. Since he was leaning forward, his bare back stretched and his asscrack was visible above the waist of his scuffed jeans. “You can play wit’ it, if you want.”
“What?”
“My ass. I can feel you lookin’ at it,” Sagan said, still facing down to his feet as he untied his boots. “Go ahead. I was in prison, remember? I ain’t gonna freak out at a man touchin’ me.”
“Oh.”
“Go on ‘n touch me.”
Fletcher got past his anxiety and stuck a finger down Sagan’s pants, right in his hairy, sweaty crack. A shudder ran down Fletcher’s spine. His eyes opened wide, and he moved close enough that his nose touched the firmness of Sagan’s back.
That asscrack was hot and hairy and sweaty, and it made Fletcher’s dick stand up under the covers. His finger crept lower and lower until his entire hand was wedged between Sagan’s ass and his dirty jeans.
Fletcher’s finger stopped when it reached the tangle of hair over Sagan’s asshole. Then he pushed through and touched that tight warm ring. He didn’t go in, sensing that Sagan wouldn’t permit that, he just hugged the rim while Sagan pulled off his boots and socks.
“Yee-haw! Make her scream, Sagan!”
Someone outside loudly revved the engine to their motorcycle, and the others laughed.
“She likin’ this sound yet or what?” He revved it again, cackling as he asked over and over whether she liked the sound.
Then Sagan stood without warning. At first Fletcher thought he was mad, that this would be it and Sagan was going to beat him up. But instead he simply dropped his pants and his dingy white boxers. His thick cock dangled, half-hard already. He stood there as though waiting for something.
“You can touch it, if you want,” Sagan said softly.
Fletcher did so, trembling as he wrapped one hand around Sagan’s thick cock. There was a tattoo of a skull-and-crossbones on it, Fletcher could just barely see it in the dark. That was weird. Who tattooed their cockshaft? Fletcher pictured Sagan taking his dick out in a tattoo parlor and the tattooist touching it, holding it still as he worked on it. Must have hurt, Fletcher thought.
His heart pounding, Fletcher hefted up that slab of meat and inhaled deeply of its musty scent. Sagan chuckled. His limp cock throbbed in Fletcher’s grip.
Without giving it another thought, Fletcher swallowed it down, as deep as he could get on it. He drooled as an explosion of masculine flavor hit his tongue, and Sagan moaned. There was a faintly surprised tenor in his voice, as though he didn’t think Fletcher’s unpracticed throat would be smooth and welcoming
“C’mon, Sagan, you put it in her ass yet?”
“I gonna drink all yer beer if you don’t get out here!”
“If you ain’t get hard yet, it ain’t gonna happen!”
Soon Sagan was rock-hard, grunting as he bucked his hips, pushing his dick deeper and deeper down Fletcher’s throat. He held onto the back of Fletcher’s head as though going to throat him down, but didn’t. He just gently worked his dick as far as it would go.
“Yeah…” Sagan voice melted away as his dick spasmed in Fletcher’s mouth.
The taste of precum hit him, and Fletcher gurgled merrily. It was salty and sweet, savory and sour, it tasted like exactly what he had been looking for. He forced himself to deep-throat even more of it.
He continued until his nose was buried in Sagan’s unkempt pubic hair, which stood out from his crotch like a shrub. His dick was even bigger than it had first seemed because the first few inches were concealed by hair, which smelled of metal and stale semen.
Fletcher’s fingers crept up Sagan’s body to his muscular chest. He didn’t have a six-pack, but his barrel-shaped torso was bulging with muscles and the power of his frame emanated from him in his body heat, which enveloped Fletcher. Fletcher withdrew his fingers when he realized that probably seemed too weird to Sagan.
But Sagan shook his head, grabbed his hands and brought them back up to his nipples. “Go on and feel whatever you wanna feel, boy,” Sagan said. He flexed his pecs beneath Fletcher’s grasp. “You wanna stick a finger in my ass? Go on, I’s a prison-man, ‘member? You ain’t gonna shock me.”
Fletcher, however, was shocked. He kept one of his hands on those rock-hard pecs and erect nipples, while his other hand crept to Sagan’s plump ass. He pushed his finger back through the tangled nest of asshair and plunged hesitantly into Sagan’s butthole.
It was warm and tight, and every time he moved his finger even the slightest, it made Sagan grunt and shake. Fletcher smiled as he watched his stepfather writhe beneath his touch. His spongy prostate felt good beneath Fletcher’s fingertip.
“I’m-a ram you in the ass now, boy,” Sagan murmured. He hurried under the blankets as though this was a race, wrapped his muscular body around Fletcher and rammed the tip of his dick right in. Fletcher bucked and tensed as pain shot through him. Sagan stopped moving. “Hey, sorry, I ain’t nevuh ram a man outside of prison. I ain’t used to doin’ it nice,” he said. He sounded genuinely apologetic as he stroked Fletcher’s spasming back. “But I’ll do somethin’ fer you I only ever done on my prison bitch’s birthday and Christmas.” He reached one hand around Fletcher’s body and grabbed his cock, which was already hard.
Then he began working his dick in and out slowly. The motion sent sparks of sensation through Fletcher’s body, and he gasped and moaned and writhed, as the pressure in his ass grew and grew even as it morphed into spams of pleasure that wracked Fletcher’s body. Every minute or two, Sagan seemed to forget that he was trying to be gentle, and he’d hump his hips hard until Fletcher squealed and squirmed. Then he apologized and slowed down again.
“Sorry, boy, you squirm real nice-like…” He kissed Fletcher on the nape. His hands squeezed Fletcher’s cock, one hand holding firmly onto the cockroot while the other spit-lubed hand stroked the shaft.
He kept chewing on his lips and snorting, emitting almost a snore-like sound. He even paused every few minutes and spat a loogie into the trash can by the bed. Each time he did, his belly and his powerful chest writhed above Fletcher’s body.
The thick, bristly hair of his chest and arms scratched at Fletcher’s back. He arched his spine as the sensations grew more and more intense, to the point where he wasn’t sure he could stand it. Fletcher couldn’t even tell if it was so intensely painful or pleasurable, it was just too much of everything, and it made him squirm in his stepafather’s powerful arms.
“If it hurts, you can bite my arm, son,” Sagan said softly, his voice sending a shudder up Fletcher’s spine. He put the meaty part of his forearm in front of Fletcher’s face, like a chokehold almost, but not tight.
Fletcher was glad to have the opportunity for a little relief, as the sensations roiling within were so intense it felt like he was going to explode. He bit down hard on the firm muscles of Sagan’s forearm, which made Sagan moan as though he loved being bitten. His forearm was brimming with muscle so big it seemed to barely fit beneath his skin, and his coarse body hairs rubbed against Fletcher’s teeth and lips. There were tattoos there on his skin, but Fletcher couldn’t see them in the dark and his mind was too distracted by the cock in his ass to remember what they were.
“You makin’ babies tonight, Sagan?!”
“Don’t pull out, man!”
“Whoop, whoop!”
He chuckled into Fletcher’s ear. “I ain’t gonna pull out. I’m gonna cum inside you, boy. You like that? You wanna feel me shoot a nut in you?”
“Yeah…”
“Good. I don’t like pullin’ out. Does it still hurt?”
“A little.”
“Good. It should hurt a bit,” Sagan said. “Is it alright if’n I come see you at night every once in a while?”
“Yeah.”
After another long pause, Sagan said, “Every night?”
“Yeah,” Fletcher said. “You’ll do this again, right?”
“Hell yeah. Try and stop me,” Sagan said. He kissed Fletcher on the cheek.
“Hmmm…” Fletcher’s voice broke as a fresh wave of pleasure hit his prostate and rumbled its way up his body. His open mouth gnawed at Sagan’s meaty forearm, but he couldn’t summon the wherewithal to actually bite down anymore. All he could do was writhe amid the tangle of Sagan’s sweat-matted hair and contorting muscles.
The motorcycles outside revved loudly. Sagan grunted, annoyed, waited for the engines to quiet down again, then screamed loud enough that everyone outside could hear. “You quit makin’ that racket, Cooter! I’ll come cornhole you instead, motherfucker, bend you right over that bike and ram you up the backside! You know I will too!”
They all laughed — presumably all except Cooter — and teased each other about who would like it the best if Sagan did ramrod them. Fletcher moaned at the thought of it, his mind picturing Cooter (or at least, the biker he suspected was Cooter, since Fletcher didn’t know who was who out there) bent over as he was sodomized by Sagan’s big tattooed meat.
Fletcher wondered if Sagan actually did that kind of thing. Did he cornhole the other bikers?
“You like that, huh? I did ramrod that Cooter once. He bet he could beat me in a race. I beat his ass down,” Sagan said. “Next time I do that, I let you watch, boy. Maybe you can join in, if you want to. You like that idea?”
“Yes, dad…” Fletcher moaned in ecstasy, as Sagan’s cock rammed all the way in and all the way out with each powerful thrust of Chooper’s body. It made Fletcher’s bed shake under them.
“Good. Now here comes my nut. You ready fer it? Lemme hear you say it.”
“I’m ready for your nut,” Fletcher said, struggling to get the words out.
“Alright, this’ll hurt a bit,” he said, then rammed his dick all the way in. It did send a shiver of pain up Fletcher’s spine, but more prominently it sent Fletcher to new heights of ecstasy as well. His prostate burned with stimulation as his mind reeled.
When Sagan’s orgasm actually came, Fletcher felt it through the quiver of his muscles and the loud rumbling in his throat. Fletcher gasped as his own climax began building at that moment, when he felt Sagan’s manhood spasming deep within him.
“He’e it is, boy, take it, take every drop…” His voice was low and slow. “Lemme hear you say it. Say when you feel it and when you don’t no mo’.”
Cum sprayed into Fletcher’s body, as Sagan’s muscles all tensed. He yelped and squealed directly into Fletcher’s ear and even licked his earlobe as pleasure shot through them both.
“I feel it, daddy,” Fletcher said, his voice weak and small as pleasure overran him. “I feel your cum inside me.” Once the semen flowed into him, it stuck to his innards and Fletcher felt nothing but creamy warmth. It was only after a few full minutes that Fletcher realized he was definitely done, as he kept feeling trickling jizz inside him until then. “That’s it, I think. I don’t feel it anymore,” he said through gritted teeth.
Then Sagan pulled out, laid Fletcher on his back and used both hands to stroke Fletcher off. Fletcher writhed, the intense pleasure overwhelming him. He clutched Sagan’s powerful chest and broad shoulders. Sagan smiled as though he enjoyed the sight of Fletcher’s delicate fingers clutching his muscles and his kinky chest hair.
“I ain’t nevuh done this, boy,” Sagan said before bending his head over and taking Fletcher’s dick in his mouth. He moved all in one smooth motion, as though if he stopped to think about it, he’d back out.
By that time, Fletcher was already beginning to nut. His orgasm overwhelmed him as soon as he felt that warm moisture on his dick. Sagan’s tongue had no sooner touched Fletcher’s manhood when cum sprayed into Sagan’s mouth. He gagged but didn’t stop.
A plentiful load flowed into Sagan’s throat, and though he screwed up his face in disgust, he swallowed every drop. Fletcher had never felt pleasure so intense — he had masturbated, of course, but it had never felt like this. He shot what felt like a massive load, which drained down Sagan’s tattooed neck.
When Fletcher was done, Sagan lifted his head up, wiped his lips off with a tissue and gagged again. He patted Fletcher on the cheek, kissed him chastely there and got out of bed.
“Damn, Sagan, you tryin’-a give her an orgasm tonight? Tryin’ somethin’ new?”
“Lemme tell you a secret, boy,” Sagan said, standing next to the bed. He rubbed Fletcher’s back and asscheeks with one hand. “I been in prison a couple times. I, uh… I mean… I did have a prison bitch. A couple of ’em. But, uh… I also been the prison bitch a few times, and I uh… I had a prison wife for awhile. I ain’t mind swallowin’ that man’s dick. I don’t mind swallowin’ your’n neither. Don’t tell yer mama.”
“Okay,” Fletcher said, too exhausted to process that information.
“Now you just playin’ wit’ it, Sagan!”
Sagan slowly put his clothes on. He smiled at Fletcher and patted him on the head. “Go on, go to sleep, boy, and have a good trip tomorrow. I’ll make those fuckheads shut up.”
“Okay. Thanks, Sagan.”
“You’re welcome,” he said. He paused at the doorway. “I don’t expect you to say this back to me, Fletcher… But I love you, son.”
Fletcher waited until he was gone to say it back, but he had a feeling Sagan knew he had said it. Just seconds later, Sagan barked at his friends outside.
“Shut yer goddamn mouths and turn your engines off, fuckheads! The family I love is tryin’-a sleep!”

The Basketball Team

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

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Read the whole thing here!

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

Three Generations of Workers

Avery finds himself celebrating Thanksgiving with a family of construction workers, the Dalmans, who one by one let Avery service every inch of their blue-collar meats! Can Avery satisfy the Dalman clan?!

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Read the whole thing here!

Avery came back to his apartment above the garage after his sister and her family left. He was glad to be alone.
Yesterday was Thanksgiving, and he had spent all day with his sister, her husband and their three daughters. It had been excruciatin. While he loved his nieces very much, he did not love spending more than a few hours with them. They were exhausting, annoying, loud and they smelled bad.
He had gotten through one whole day though, and he was done with that until Christmas. At least, he thought, he had managed to avoid going to his brother-in-law’s family’s Thanksgiving celebration. That was where the rest of the family was at today, the day after Thanksgiving. The whole family had gone to Redding to see the grandparents.
That gave Avery a free day. He lived above the garage, so he didn’t live in the house, but he could go there when he needed to. Today he hung out in his underwear, eating leftovers and watching the big-screen TV his brother-in-law had recently bought.
About three o’clock, however, there was a knock on the door.
“Hey, man, we’re having a Thanksgiving dinner next door,” said the man in the doorway. He was Junior Dalman, and he was so well-built he filled the doorway like a Greek god. Junior was middle-aged and burly, the co-owner of a construction company his father had founded. He had a few tinges of gray in his beard, and his hairy chest was visible through his shirt. He kept his hair cut very short, like a military crew-cut, though he was never in the military.
Avery explained that the family was gone. As it turned out, the Dalmans were doing something similar but in reverse: They had all spent Thanksgiving scattered among various girlfriends, in-laws and others, and now the Dalman men were having their own Thanksgiving the day after.
“But, uh, we was supposed to have my ex and her sister and daughters, but they ain’t show up,” Junior said. He scowled a little but didn’t explain why. “So we gonna have lots of extra food fo’ sure.”
The only reason Avery agreed is that Junior was handsome, as was Junior’s son, PJ, a college lacrosse star who also did construction work on the side. Avery didn’t really want to go anywhere or do anything today, but he did want to look at the Dalmans.
PJ had shaggy blond hair, which he obviously cut himself, all uneven and ratty, a bit greasy but only in a good way. Avery shook his hand, hoping he didn’t look like he had a crush (which he did). PJ’s arm muscles flexed as he shook up and down. Avery smiled and patted PJ on the bicep at the same time, holding back a gasp and moan of desire. His bicep was firm and rock-like.
“Hey, man, are you putting money on the game? My money’s on the Raiders,” he said.
“Oh, I don’t really watch football,” Avery said. He smiled. “But, uh, I guess if everyone else is, I could put a few bucks on the Raiders. That way I can root with you.” Avery blushed again — he thought that made him sound like a PJ fanboy, which he was.
Much to Avery’s surprise, there was only one other person there — Percy Dalman, PJ’s grandfather and Junior’s father. Much to Avery’s even greater surprise, Percy was handsome as hell. He had gray hair, but it was long and shaggy like his grandson, and he was built like a powerhouse despite his age. He was crackly and windswept, and he dressed in baggy shorts and a hip hop tee shirt that looked ridiculous on a man his age.
After eating some fruit — a fruit platter had been purchased for the womenfolk, none of whom showed up, so Avery was as feminine as was going to be there all day, and it was up to Avery to eat the fruit — Avery sat down next to PJ.
The football game was on, but Avery paid little attention. He cheered when PJ did. Avery paid most of his attention to PJ, who shifted and wiggled on the love-seat they shared. PJ was more than a hundred pounds heavier — solid muscle — than Avery and took up much more space. Avery didn’t mind, and he even found himself sitting there with his arm on the back of the couch, tantalizingly close to hugging PJ’s muscled back.
“He’s gonna keep throwing, I can tell,” Percy said with a sneer as the second quarter was about to begin. “Fuckin’ punk, needs to run. They got runners.”
“Nah, Pops, running is for pussies,” PJ said with a laugh. “Man, they should always throw-“
“Shut the fuck up, son,” Junior said.
“Passing sucks!”
“Them’s the Raiders, son! You best believe they know what they’re doing,” Pops said. “There’s history in that franchise-“
“Pops, shut up!” PJ moaned and covered his face.
“Hey PJ,” Avery said. “I’ll bet you fifty bucks they run the next play and get a first down.” His gently lilting voice drove the conversation to a halt.
PJ paused, then said, “Fine, bro.”
“He ain’t got fifty cents, man,” Junior said.
“I do so!” PJ said, his voice defensive enough that Avery realized PJ indeed had little money. He might have been telling the truth about having fifty cents, but he wouldn’t be able to pay the bet. That was okay with Avery, who thought he might get something out of today after all.
Finally the game resumed, and Avery watched with baited breath — he actually enjoyed lacrosse for once — as the play began.
The quarterback handed the ball to a runner. Avery cheered, as did Junior and Percy. Only PJ groaned as the player sprinted up the field, easily getting a first down. PJ leaned back and closed his eyes.
“What a fucking idiot, who runs?!”
“It’s an important part of the game, jackass. You know until the 50s, it was almost all running? Throwing the ball wasn’t allowed most of the time until the NFL changed the rules,” Percy said.
“Well, they knew what they were doing. They got the down.”
“You best pay up your fifty dollars,” Junior said with a sneer.
PJ blushed. “Well, yeah. I, uh… I might have to owe you on that one.”
Avery smiled. He patted PJ on the thigh. “Don’t worry about it-“
PJ shook his head. “I always pay my debts-“
“You mean you get me to pay your debts,” Junior said with an angry snarl.
“I always pay my debts, man, I don’t want any charity.”
“Except for student loans and your mom paying your tuition and your coach giving you free tutoring and your free health care courtesy of the Democrats-“
“Shut up, Dad,” PJ said. He glared at his father and grandfather, who continued to make faces at each other and laugh.
But Avery just patted PJ on the shoulder and said, “Well, I would gladly forgive the debt if you do something for me. I could use a pair of big strong arms for something. Come on next door, I’ll show you.”
He nodded. He seemed glad to be away from his dad and grandfather, who still snickered and listed all of the charity that PJ received. Avery wished he could walk behind PJ, so he could watch his gigantic lacrosse-toned ass sway. PJ filled out his jersey and workout shorts well. But PJ was following Avery, since Avery was the one who knew where they were going.
He led PJ over to the garage where he lived, and brought him up to his apartment. Then Avery closed the door and grinned at PJ.
“So whatcha need, man?”
“Well, I thought, instead of paying me fifty dollars,” Avery said. “You let me drop to my knees like this.” He did so. PJ’s eyes opened wide. Avery licked his lips. “And close your eyes. You can just do what comes naturally.”
“Oh.” PJ blushed until his cheeks were bright red. “I mean…”
“I won’t tell anyone, not even your dad. And I’ll swallow your cum,” Avery said. He inserted a finger into his mouth and sucked on it.
“Okay,” PJ said. He blurted it out like he needed to say it before he changed his mind. Then he grunted and mewled a bit, like he had then changed his mind but didn’t want to say it. He nodded again. “Damn, I need a nut, bro.”
Avery hurried to pop his cock out. PJ had worn his old workout shorts today because he wasn’t leaving the house, and thought he might play a little touch-football with his dad later. He rarely washed these shorts, so they were funky and sweaty and exactly how Avery liked them. He wore a brand-new jockstrap too, clean and cottony and smelling just enough of balls for Avery.
Avery planted his tongue right on PJ’s cocktip, making him gasp. His dick twitched. Avery swallowed it deeply, until his nose teased PJ’s pubic hair.
“Damn, bro… You can’t tell anyone about this, man, especially not my dad. Or my granddad!”
His dick stiffened up, and PJ gasped. He didn’t think this would happen so quickly. Now he got more and more worried his father would find out. Would it be obvious he had just gotten his nut off when he got back to the house?
It felt so good it was almost painful, and it was definitely awkward. PJ knew how to act around women, but he just flailed and grunted and shook as he raced straight to an orgasm in Avery’s mouth. Pleasure shuddered up his muscles, and his knees went weak.
“Ah, shit, man!” PJ gripped Avery’s head and held on, jutting his hips forward to ram his cock all the way down his throat.
Creamy hot cum filled Avery’s belly and coated his throat. It was salty and sweet and delicious, and Avery moaned, craving more. A long flow of it coated his gullet. Avery slurped down every drop, as his hands massaged the meaty thighs of PJ’s body.
PJ was young and virile, so he shot a huge load, giving Avery plenty of thick cum that seeped into his belly. Avery moaned and kept licking until PJ couldn’t take it anymore and took his dick away.
“Damn, bro, you really got enthusiasm for dick,” PJ said, blushing, wide-eyed. None of his girlfriends had ever really liked sucking cock — he wouldn’t have thought that was true a few minutes ago, but now that he got it from Avery, he knew his girlfriends were never enthusiastic like Avery was right now. He thwacked his limp dick over Avery’s face (which no girl ever let him do).
Then it was all done. PJ was glad. He took a deep breath. His face was ruddy and sweaty. His dick dangled, shorts still around his ankles. He was too exhausted to do much, so Avery pulled his jockstrap and shorts up for him. PJ gasped and giggled a little, nervously, when Avery touched his sensitive cock and balls.
“Tell them you helped me put together a bookshelf,” Avery said, pointing to the bookshelf he had just put together yesterday (he had needed to get his brother-in-law to hold some stuff in place while he screwed it together). “It was heavy enough you’re a little red-faced and out-of-breath.”
“Are you gonna tell them…? They’ll call me a pussy if they find out.”
“No. It’s our secret,” Avery said. “I promise.”
PJ nodded, still too embarrassed to really say much. Finally on the way back to the house, PJ said, “I can’t believe you just jacked me off like that, bro. That was so weird.”
Avery laughed. “Yeah.”
When they got back in the house, PJ’s heart thumped, certain his father or grandfather would guess what had happened.
The game had resumed, however, and they barely even acknowledged that PJ was gone. They never asked what he had done. PJ breathed a sigh of relief as he sat down and resumed cheering on the Raiders.
This time, PJ sat on the chair, instead of the loveseat. Avery sat by himself, wondering if he could sit in the center of the couch instead — he’d be crammed in between Junior and Percy, probably close enough to them he could feel their armhair and smell their chests. It was enough to make his mouth water.
When his cell phone rang, Junior stood up. He had a serious frown on his face. “Damn it, it’s Charlie, if he calls out tomorrow, I will rip his goddamn head off.”
He walked away, into the kitchen. Just a few moments later, the sound of Junior angrily hissing into the phone could be heard. The other two ignored it, but Avery found it increasingly awkward, especially when Junior’s voice got loud enough that his words were audible.
“No, fuck you, you drunk bastard! ‘I wanna get real drunk tonight’ is not a good reason to call out sick-” Junior fumed. “Then don’t get that drunk, Charlie! It’s not responsible to plan on getting so drunk you can’t drive the next morning — oh, then tell the state police, they’ll give you a plaque! Maybe they’ll give you a job too, a job where ‘a strong desire to get drunk’ is an acceptable excuse to call out from work! Then don’t bother sobering up for Monday!” He threw his cell phone against the wall, then cursed himself and put the battery back in the compartment.
Avery got up. The game was in an exciting moment (or so Avery assumed since PJ and Percy were deeply engrossed; every moment of football was equally boring to Avery) and the others didn’t really notice him go into the kitchen. Junior paced there, square jaw working as he chewed on his lower lip. He rubbed his stubbled face and nodded at Avery.
“Sorry, man, I got this worker…”
“You seem frustrated,” Avery said.
He sighed. “Yeah. It ain’t even… I really wish my ex had shown up. We’ve been gettin’ along. I thought maybe…”
“You thought maybe she’d treat you right?”
“Nothing’s going right right now,” he said. “If I don’t get the concrete poured for that school tomorrow, it won’t be ready in time for next week.”
“You poor baby… You should relax though,” Avery said. “Stressing out won’t solve anything.” Junior grunted. He still mostly ignored Avery, standing there flipping through his phone as though additional workers might have inserted themselves in there. Avery grabbed Junior’s cock through his dingy work khakis.
Junior looked up and his eyes opened wide. “What’re you…?”
Avery frowned. “I hate seeing people stressed on holidays,” he said. “And I bet you were hoping that ex-wife of yours would give up the booty.” Avery turned around and raised his ass, aiming it towards Junior’s crotch. “But maybe I can take her place?”
“Shit…”
Junior glanced back at the living room. He grabbed Avery’s hips and dragged him to the other side of the kitchen, where they were blocked by the center island. No one could see Avery without being right there next to Junior.
Avery dropped his jeans and rammed his ass back towards Junior’s crotch. His dick was still soft, but it twitched through the fabric of his khakis when Avery’s ass touched it.
“Shit…” Junior said again. He sighed like he didn’t want to do this, like it was a big imposition. He even glanced towards the living room and considered saying no. But his cock was hard, and he wasn’t about to turn down some booty. Nobody, he thought, would know. He unzipped his khakis and let a thick, veiny cock flop out. It was big like PJ’s but less smooth and more tan. Avery didn’t mind that at all.
He rubbed his ass over the shaft of Junior’s limp cock, while Junior looked away, seemingly pretending this wasn’t happening. He closed his eyes as his cock firmed up.
“Hmm, stick it in me,” Avery said. He lined his ass up with Junior’s cock and pushed back.
As soon as he got started, Junior found his hands moving on instinct. He grabbed Avery’s ass and held on. It twitched and trembled until it turned rock-hard, throbbing against the surface of Avery’s asshole with every pulse of Junior’s heart.
“Open up, boy,” Junior said with a grunt. He drilled his dick in.
He had a nice big cock, enough that Avery had to struggle to bring it all in. He pushed when he felt resistance, and Avery had to focus on not crying out. He whimpered as Junior slammed into him.
Finally he was all the way in. His cock throbbed as Avery adjusted. It took all of Avery’s focus to just take a breath.
“Here I go, boy, take that dick,” Junior murmured. “Say yes, sir, I’ll do what you say.”
Avery struggled to speak softly. “Yes, sir, I’ll do what you say.”
Junior grunted right into Avery’s ear as he orgasmed. His knees buckled, and he went to the ground with Avery, wrapping his powerful arms around Avery’s body and holding him right. The pressure and pain in his ass were intense, but Avery loved every moment of it.
Cum filled him up, great creamy gobs of it that spread to every corner of Avery’s insides. It flowed over his prostate and dripped out onto the floor of Junior’s kitchen. Avery moaned, which would have made a loud sound but his pleasure was so intense it ended up being a breathless, voiceless moan.
“Shit,” Junior said, his cock limpening now. He stayed on top of Avery though, squirming and grinding his dick in deeper. That caused his cumload to turn into a big frothy mess that made a puddle on the floor. It felt so good Avery couldn’t breathe.
Finally Junior pulled out. He stood. He wrinkled his nose. “How was that, boy?”
“Hmmm…” Avery moaned. His whole body shook as the aftershocks of his orgasm wracked his body.
“Clean up that mess you made,” Junior said. He tossed a roll of paper towels to Avery, whose knees were weak and wobbly as he bent over to do as he was told. Junior watched him until he was done, then made him take the cummy paper towels out to the trash can in the driveway. “Don’t you dare tell no one. My pops would blow a lid, and my son would tease me forever.”
“Sure. It’s my secret,” Avery said before following him back out into the living room.
He hadn’t been in there very long before it erupted in cheers. The Raiders had scored. PJ and Percy whooped and hollered so loud it rattled the picture-frames on the wall. PJ took his shirt off and pounded on his chest. Avery just grinned and watched the sweat roll between his pecs and his shoulder blades.
A few minutes later was precisely five o’clock. Percy’s phone beeped. He took it out and peered at the screen, taking several minutes to determine how to turn the beeping off. “Damn piece of shit,” he said when it was finally off. “I gotta do some FaceCall. You got FaceCall on your computer?”
Junior looked at his dad like he was crazy. “Yeah. FaceCall? Dad, that’s a computer thing.”
“I know, moron, why do you think I asked about your computer?”
PJ said, “You hate computers, Grampa. You-“
“I know what I hate, boy!” Percy said. His wrinkled face frowned. “I need to do a FaceCall!”
“I can do that, Percy,” Avery said. “My computer’s all set up for it.”
“Yeah, do his FaceCall,” Junior said. The game was back on, and he turned back to watch it.
“Okay, fine. Yeah. I’ll do a FaceCall on yours.”
“You don’t ‘do a FaceCall’, Pops, you just FaceCall with someone,” PJ said with a snicker.
But Percy ignored him and followed Avery back out to his home. This time they didn’t go to the apartment above the garage. Avery let him into the main house where there was a big high-res computer screen to use. He showed Percy how to connect to the person he was meeting up with.
Percy was gruff and mean, that was just his personality. Avery didn’t expect friendliness or charm, nor did he even want it. Percy had a handsome look, and Avery loved muscular men with gray hair like that. Percy looked like an old-fashioned painting of Zeus, with a redneck flair.
It was a woman. On the FaceCall. She was pretty in her own late-fifties way, with long hair that Avery was certain was a wig. She was demure and quiet, in stark contrast to Percy’s gruffness.
“How you doin’, baby? How was the family? Ya grandson still an ungrateful prick? Uh-huh.”
Avery backed away to give them privacy. He had to suppress a giggle because Percy was like a mean dog who turned submissive around a child. He smiled and laughed and told the woman compliments. He offered to beat up her ungrateful grandson. He ended by telling her he loved her — he used hushed tones and made sure Avery wasn’t looking that way before he said it.
Finally the FaceCall was done. Percy cursed at it for a minute before Avery came over to turn it off for him. Then Percy stood and glared at him.
“I’s expectin’ you’ll want a little lovin’ now, huh, boy?”
Avery blushed. “Well…”
“C’mon. In the bathroom.” He went to the tiny half-bath attached to the kitchen.
“We got the whole house,” Avery said. “No one’s here. We don’t have to go into the bathroom-“
“You think I do this shit anywhere else? You makin’ me do somethin’ nasty, we gonna do it in a nasty place,” he said. He grabbed Avery by the arm. Avery bumped into him and discovered he had a firm hardon.
“I’m not making you do it-“
“Shut the fuck up, I gotta pay you for doing that FaceCall, right?”
“Well, it wasn’t my computer, it’s my brother-in-law’s, but he doesn’t pay per FaceCall or anything. It doesn’t cost him any money-“
“Shut the fuck up, I know you want it. You’re begging me for it,” he said with a snarl. He shoved Avery into the bathroom. “I only do it in males one way, just so you know. I’ll slam you jail-style. You’ll like it, they always do.”
Avery giggled. It was obvious Percy wanted this real bad but didn’t want to say that. So Avery played hard to get. “I don’t know…” he said with a feminine lilt to his voice.
“Shut up, I know you just playin’. Swishy sweets like you wanna get they ass plowed. It’s what they do,” Percy said. “And I seen you checking out my grandson. Don’t go attemptin’ after him.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“He wouldn’t anyway, young’uns is prudish these days. Now I won’t do nothin’ tricksy, so don’t even try that,” Percy said. “I am strictly on top, boy. Don’t you even think ‘bout making me touch your dick.”
“Of course not,” Avery said. He was about to drop to his knees when Percy grabbed his chin and lifted his head an inch or so. Then he planted his lips on Avery’s.
Avery was so shocked he didn’t react at first. He thought he must have misunderstood something. Then he kissed Percy back, but when their tongues interlocked, Percy pushed him away.
In seconds, Avery was on his knees on all fours, his pants around his ankles. Percy let out a bestial growl as he took his own cock out. He was uncut and meaty, bigger than the other two, rougher and cruder too, like a caveman’s cock, full of veins and even a scar running along the top.
Percy kissed him again from behind, his lips running up and down Avery’s face and neck. Avery moaned. His asshole twitched as Percy’s cock rubbed against it.
Then Percy drilled his dick in, just the tip at first. Percy noticed a fluid in there, which he would have realized was his son’s cum if he had stopped to think about it, but he just assumed it was lube and it didn’t occur to him that Avery hadn’t used any lube. He grunted and Avery bit his lip. “C’mon, boy, lemme in. Beg me for it. Say you want it. Say you need it.”
“I need you inside me, stick it in me, Percy. Fill my ass!” Avery cried out.
He was shocked again, moments later, when Percy reached around Avery’s body and grabbed his cock. To Percy, this was the proper way to do a man’s ass — Avery had assumed “jail-style” meant rough and violent, which it did, to a certain degree. But when Percy was in jail, he had gradually lost most of his inhibitions; he and his fellow rednecks formed a gang with a few men to use as toys, but they had only agreed to it if Percy and the others treated them like girlfriends. So Percy had come to love giving a reacharound so he could feel his bottom orgasming. He didn’t care about stroking a man off, that didn’t even feel weird to him. He was on top, after all, so that didn’t feel good, it just made his bottom orgasm and Percy loved that,
“Gonna get deep inside ya, boy, don’t fight it, just open up and let it happen…”
Avery could do little more than writhe and beg for more. Percy pounded his ass, kissed his cheek, held his neck with one muscled arm and weighed down his back, so Avery was pinned. His arms gripped the wall of the bathroom as he struggled to take every inch of Percy’s manhood.
“Shit, boy, take it!” Percy spat vituperously into Avery’s ear.
Avery opened his ass as much as he could, letting Percy pound away. His cock was better than the others in the family. Avery wondered if it had always been that way, or if Percy had grown better over time. Maybe the other two would be just as good once they got to Percy’s age.
When Avery orgasmed, he shot his wad all over Percy’s hand, and his asshole clenched. That was what Percy was waiting for. He had always interpreted that as love when his jail-cell wife did it. He loved the feel of bringing a bottom to orgasm through ramming into his ass with all his might. It made Percy feel so powerful his muscles all flexed and he could forget about all the kissing and jacking off he’d been doing.
“Goddamn… you got nice ass…” Percy said, throwing his head back and crying out. Cum sprayed into Avery’s ass.
Percy kissed him again on the lips, continuing to stroke his limpening dick as he shot the most massive wad of the day into Avery’s body. He kept going, making a huge mess just like his son had, turning his wad into a cummy froth that coated Percy’s low-hanging balls.
Finally he was done, and he pulled out. Unlike his son, Percy didn’t make Avery clean up. Under prison rules, clean-up was the top’s responsibility. “Stay there, boy,” he said. He found some napkins and wiped up Avery’s ass, and the mess on the floor. “Good. Did you like that, boy?”
“Yes! Oh god, yes,” Avery said. He stood up on weakened knees. “Can I have another kiss?”
Percy frowned and furrowed his brow. “No. It’s nasty to kiss a man. I kissed ya before on account of my dick was in ya guts, boy. Ain’t nothin’ nasty ‘bout demolishin’ some butt.” He chuckled. “Don’t you try and kiss me, I’ll kick your ass.”
Avery blushed. “Okay, fine.” He giggled. “I think it’s about time for dinner.”
“Reckon so,” Percy said. He took a deep breath. “You best not tell no one. My boy and grandson, they don’t know ‘bout this shit. They’re squeamish as hell.”
Avery smiled. “Yeah, sure.” They headed towards the house next-door. “I’m glad I got to celebrate Thanksgiving over here,” Avery said. “I have a lot to be thankful for.”

The Plumber

Rob hires a plumber with a body to die for and an ex-wife he can’t stand. Luckily Rob is there to help him out with a soft touch, an open mouth and a willing ass!
Can Rob get his plumbing fixed at last?

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Rob had never seen a pleasant plumber. They were always fat and gross in his experience, like a sour frog mated with a rejected hog. So when Dino showed up, his knees went weak. Rob stood there at the front door, quaking like a child.
Dino was a tall, broad-shouldered man, with swarthy skin betraying his Greek heritage, though his accent had the baritone stawk of an American man. He had a dense mop of curly black hair that extended in an unruly mess all the way to his shoulders, not that he had a long hairstyle — he had a short hairstyle that was overgrown enough to cover his nape. He wore a tight wifebeater, much too small for his expansive frame, and a thick layer of curly black hair extruded from beneath it.
He had a surly look about him. A lot of people would have seen him as rude — quite accurately — but Rob didn’t care. Rudeness didn’t bother Rob. Meanness did. Some people had forgotten there was a difference. Rob thought that difference was the most important fact that was largely unknown and unspoken of.
It was a simple job, and it only took a few hours. Rob went away to surf the web. It was difficult to distract himself, and he kept getting hard thinking about Dino there under the sink. Dino was sprawled out, head in the under-sink cabinet, long thick legs stretched across the kitchen floor.
“What?” Dino’s angry voice spat out. It was deep and resonant.
Rob was flush with fear. Had he angered Dino? Had he offended him? He wasn’t even in the same room. He cautiously crept into the kitchen.
“I told you about that.” Dino said. His fingers gripped the cell phone tight as he held it to his ear, rolling out from the undersink cabinet. The wide nostrils of his fat nose flared. His shoulder muscles rippled beneath the wifebeater that was now sweaty and marked with grease. He stood up and paced in the kitchen. “I told you — baby, look, I said I’d pay for it, right? So — so just fuckin’ wait for it! Don’t tell me not to curse at you, you’ve been cursing at me since the moment I answered the phone! Well fuck you, I told you about that and you dumped me, so it’s none of your business, you fat stupid cow!”
He hung up the phone and nearly slammed it on the counter but stopped himself at the last moment. He tossed it into his toolbox instead, then he roared and shadowboxed the air, his face ruddy and his hands tightened into fists.
“Sorry about that,” he said. “That was my bitch ex-wife. She’s such a fucking whore. You know she’s makin’ me pay for my daughter’s makeup? I don’t even think she should be wearing makeup yet, she’s only thirteen. I said no. I threw it all away into the garbage. But I don’t get a say, I just have to pay for it.” His face was red and he paced in Rob’s tiny kitchen. He stopped and looked at Rob. “Sorry. She’s just… She’s being a bitch. Wants me to cough up two hundred bucks out of the blue. Like I’m fuckin’ made of money.”
“I know how you can make two hundred bucks,” Rob said with a flirtatious grin, which he hoped looked nonchalant. “Not plumbing. I mean, in addition to the plumbing.” Rob reached out to pat Dino on the belly through his wifebeater. He had so much body hair there Rob didn’t feel the firmness of his flesh, just the tangle of body hair beneath the fabric of his shirt. Dino showed no reaction. Rob said, “And if you do it the way I tell you, I’ll give you five hundred.”
He cocked his head to the side. “Do what?”
“I’ll give you a hint,” Rob said. He blushed and grabbed for the loose waistband of Dino’s jeans. He tickled the rim of his boxers, and Dino’s eyes opened wide. His muscles all tensed. “It’s long, I’m pretty sure, and thick, and it’s probably a light brown, and I’ll make it feel very good-“
“You, uh…” Dino paused. “You tryin’…?” He looked away and bit his lip.
“Yes. Exactly. I’m not big and tough like you, and I’ve read that playing with the dick of a bigger man can make me stronger. I’ll make you forget that bitch ex-wife,” Rob said. “I just want you to help me embarrass my own embarrassing former family. My dad. He’s disowned me, I like to call him sometimes and let some guy he’d think is white trash make it clear he’s made me his bitch.”
Dino blushed and laughed nervously. He covered his mouth with his face. He grabbed his crotch with his other hand. “Let’s, uh, be clear,” he said. His eyes flashed menacingly. “I ain’t gonna touch your dick. You don’t get up in my ass or nothing. I will rip yo’ face off if you even think about it.”
“No, no, nothing like that. I’ll swallow your dick. You stick me in the ass. You make a lotta noise when I call my stepdad,” Rob said with a shrug.
Dino paused. He caressed his own chest, his muscles rippling as he looked away from Rob — he found eye contact very intense and uncomfortable right now. He sighed like he was going to say yes, but then he stopped and reconsidered. He opened his mouth. He laughed again. “Aw, fuck, it’s for my daughter…”
“A noble cause,” Rob said. He gently touched Dino’s meaty but flat belly, through his wifebeater. Then he pushed one of his fingers beneath the fabric, tracing a trail through the sweaty hair there. His chest muscles rippled when Rob came into contact with them.
“You, uh, want me to take a shower first?” He asked. He raised one arm and sniffed at the pit. “I stink-“
“No!” Rob blushed and rammed his head into Dino’s hairy armpit. He suckled on the coarse, sweat-slickened hairs there, which made Dino chuckle. Normally Dino was ticklish there, but he was too shocked to react that way. He was used to people treating his sweaty, hairy body as gross — as impressive, given his muscles, but still foul-smelling and unpleasant no matter how much he washed. Dino was used to it by now, so he found it weird and off-putting to have someone actually worshiping every inch of his raunchy flesh.
“Damn, you are nasty,” Dino said with a bass chuckle, which Rob heard through the thickness of Dino’s chest.
Rob licked the flesh of Dino’s chest. He licked over Dino’s hairy pecs, lapping at the kinky hairs and sucking up all the sweat. Dino’s muscles rippled as he tensed up. He had never had a girl who was really, genuinely into his muscles and hairy body — they occasionally thought he was handsome enough, but they would have preferred he was smaller and smoother.
But Dino couldn’t do anything about that. He had been beat up too much as a kid to be willing to slim down, and anyway he was a big boy by nature. He put on muscle-weight easily, so he worked out a lot. At first he had only worked out because he wanted to look good for when he picked up chicks. He had simply overshot his goal, and he refused to change his trajectory, so he just kept getting bigger and bigger and less and less appealing to women.
He felt self-conscious and vulnerable when Rob undid his belt and dropped Dino’s heavy workpants. His cock and balls dangled. His dick had never been so limp, and he wasn’t even sure he’d be able to get hard. Finally he had the bright idea to bring up some medical-supply catalogue models on his cell phone. Hot chicks dressed as nurses usually got him going. It was close enough to pornography, if you know the right sites to look at.
Rob saw Dino take out his phone and mumble to himself as he looked up some chicks. Rob didn’t mind, he was used to servicing big alphas in need of women to get fully hard. He inhaled deeply of Dino’s musk, then swallowed his dick to the root. It was limp and soft, but as soon as it touched Rob’s tongue, it twitched.
It pulsated in Rob’s mouth. He could tell when Dino found a pic he was really into because his dick jumped and hardened. It went from soft to erect as stonehenge in seconds, and Dino groaned over Rob’s head. He began pumping his hips back and forth, gently at first but with more force with each thrust of his hips. His swollen cock rubbed on Rob’s tongue, while Rob’s hands gripped the hairy firmness of Dino’s thighs.
As the sour taste of precum overwhelmed Rob, he gurgled merrily. Dino tasted salty and sweet, and a little like seawater — his precum tasted like Rob imagined seawater did on a remote Greek island. It tasted sunny and warm and savory, and it made Rob’s mouth water as he savored the creaminess and the brine that assaulted his senses. He licked and lapped at that throbbing cock, while giggling at how it made Dino twist and writhe as though it hurt.
Really though Dino just contorted because it felt so good. His knees were weak. His body was overcome by pleasure wafting over him in waves. He wanted to grab ahold of Rob’s head and fuck his throat like a slut’s pussy. Dino rarely got the chance to cum in anyone’s mouth like that — mostly girls thought his body hair was gross enough that any kind of contact was a favor. Women disliked the way his chest hair, back hair, crotch hair, leg hair and armpit hair all kind bled together into a carpet of fur. Rob loved a hairy man. Dino’s ex-wife had made him lick her pussy without ever sucking his dick, and then when he complained, she called him a misogynist.
None of that bothered Rob in the slightest. He loved a hairy man.
His cock spewing prejizz into Rob’s mouth, Dino grunted. He was still on the page for that nursing catalogue when a call came. It bounced him off the website and those beautiful blonde nurses disappeared. He was angered, especially when he saw that it was his ex-wife again.
“Fuckin’ bitch,” he murmured to himself. He answered the phone, which required him to bend over and grab it from the toolbox he had put it away in. His hairy asscheeks loomed high in the air for just a moment. Then Dino snarled into the phone, “What?”
“You are such an asshole, Dino! You never told me about that slutty bitch at the club. It’s just like Tampa all over again-“
“It is not, you stupid bitch!” Dino screamed. “I did tell you about her, and I ain’t fuck her, and we ain’t together so it wouldn’t be any of ya bizness if I did! I don’t gotta tell you ‘bout this shit!”
“If you ever want to see your daughter, I have to be convinced you have a healthy living environment, Dino. You can’t be getting drunk with sluts.”
“I don’t do that when I have Lydia! You are one miserable bitch of a cock-sucking whore! How’s that accountant’s dick taste, huh?”
“Dino! I can’t deal with you when you’re like this. I oughta send my brother over there-“
“Go ahead, I’ll kick his ass again,” Dino said. “What do you want, Marina? I’m busy right now, I got a girl over.”
You’re not at work?
“She was one of my clients. She been beggin’ for my meat,” Dino said.
Yeah, right. You’re a pussy, Dino. And you’re a hairy fuck.
Dino whispered, “make some sounds like a girl.” Then he put the phone next to Rob’s mouth. Rob blushed but did as he was told. As he swallowed, he made loud gurgling sounds, taking care to ensure his voice was as feminine as could be.
Ew, god, Dino, did you just put the phone near your cock? That sounded disgusting. You’re disgusting. She sounds like a total slut. And she sounds fat.
“You’re disgusting, you stupid bitch,” Dino said. “I gotta go. I got my dick in a girl who’s worth a damn.” He hung up, glad he had gotten the final word for once. That rarely happened. He grinned down at Rob.
His dick throbbed in Rob’s mouth like getting the final word made his erection firmer. Now that Dino had gotten more comfortable with this whole thing, he went ahead and plowed into his throat hard. He wrapped his meaty palms around the back of Rob’s head. Rob paused to situate himself at the perfect angle to deep-throat Dino, who began grinding his dick into Rob’s gullet.
That must have sent a wave of sensations through Dino, who groaned and threw his head back when he felt the earliest tingling of his orgasm. He went slow, not wanting to blow his load so soon. He ground his dick into Rob’s throat, which spasmed and struggled to accept every inch of his load.
Dino had been raised Greek Orthodox, so he was overcome with guilt as he pounded. Dino had always thought masturbation was wrong. A man should save up his seed for the holiness of matrimonial passion. He really ought to start going to church, to prove he’s not a degenerate, but also because his ex could try to get him in legal trouble and a history of going to church would look good in court. Plus Dino’s mother would want be furious if she knew he wasn’t a churchgoer.
It didn’t seem like it should be sinful to Rob. He was just jacking off in a welcome, warm, wet hole — what could be sinful about that? The Bible didn’t forbid it. Rob pulled off Dino’s cock and slobbered on the tip. He smiled up at Dino.
“You’re gonna put on a show on my phone too, right? I wanna embarrass my dad,” Rob said.
Dino shrugged. “Fine, whatevuh.” His muscles rippled again as a shiver of pleasure ran up his body. Rob didn’t even stop servicing his cock when he pulled his own phone out of the pocket, and he didn’t let it pop out of his mouth as he scrolled through his contacts either. Finally, he dialed his dad.
When Rob gave him his phone, Dino was surprised — he assumed Rob would start the conversation. He didn’t know what to say to Rob’s father, and he was so overwhelmed by the pleasure snaking through his body that he didn’t know if he could come up with anything to say.
“Yo. Hey, Mr. Winthrop?” Dino asked, his voice wavering because the pleasure arising from his loins.
Yes. Who, may I ask, is calling? He sounded annoyed at being interrupted. Rob snickered around the cock in his mouth. He’d changed his phone number so his dad would accept his calls again, and it looked like that worked.
“Yo, uh, this is Dino. I just wanted to say thanks, for makin’ ya son. He got a nice tight throat, and my dick fits perfectly down it.”
A loud sigh came from the phone. Am I on speaker-phone? Robert, this is truly immature behavior.
“His mouth is full, sir, full of my dick. He looks good wit’ dick in his throat,” Dino said. “You wanna listen as I stick ‘im? I’m gonna stick him in the ass now.”
He grabbed Rob by the hips, and pulled him off. His dick was cold and alone, begging for attention — Rob tried to stroke it as he got in position, but Dino kept moving, making it impossible to jack him off as they arranged themselves.
Rob dropped his pants and bent over on all fours. He put the phone on the ground in front of his face, so his father could hear everything that happened.
“Hey, Dad! I’m just using my inheritance,” Rob said. “I paid Dino five hundred dollars to stick his dick in me.”
Robert… You shame me.
“I know, but you deserve it,” Rob said. He threw his head back and moaned as Dino slipped into him. There was an intense, uncontrollable pressure. He moaned again, as loud as he could, a powerful, cringing sound that resonated in the kitchen. Rob’s father groaned in disgust.
You don’t need to call me for this.
“I absolutely do!” Rob said. His voice broke as a twinge of pleasure erupted in his prostate. He pushed his ass back, squeezing every inch of Dino’s dick into him.
Now that he had started and was into the groove of it, Dino was less nervous. He was surprised by how easy this really was — Rob’s ass felt exactly like a girl’s. It helped that Rob was such a feminine man, with a bubble-butt that was smooth, clean and unblemished, not to mention tight. He writhed like a sexy snake below Dino’s firm body.
“Yo’ son is a pervert, Mr. Winthrop!” Dino called out. He cackled. “That’s my dick in his ass!”
Really, son, you are disgusting. I’m hanging up now. And then he did so.
Rob was disappointed, but he wasn’t surprised. Dad always hung up once the noise started getting really passionate; Rob liked to imagine that he sobbed once he hung up the phone, but he didn’t know if that was true or not. Rob reached behind himself to spread his asscheeks, giving Dino more access to his asshole.
With a loud roar, Dino slapped Rob’s asscheek. He held onto it tightly as he humped. When he had gotten started, Dino didn’t want to touch any more of Rob than he absolutely had to. He was worried he’d feel some body hair and remember he was deep in a man. He’d be humiliated if his dick went soft in the middle of this.
But now that he was into it, he wasn’t worried about that all. Rob’s ass felt exactly like a girl’s, and he was so smooth he put most girls to shame. Dino gripped his ass and slammed his dick all the way in.
“Take it, bitch, god-damn!”
Once he was more comfortable with it, he knew what position he wanted — no girl ever let him do it for more than a few seconds because they said he was too heavy and hairy. But Dino had long wanted to do it laying on his partner’s back.
So that was what he did. He rammed his dick until it was all the way in, and he wrapped one forearm in front of Rob’s mouth. He sighed and moaned directly into the back of Rob’s head. His sweaty, hairy chest plopped down on Rob’s back. Bliss flooded Dino’s body, making his chest muscles spasm and flex against the smoothness of Rob’s spine and shoulders.
Entirely pinned beneath the Greek giant, Rob couldn’t even squirm, due to Dino’s heavy body pressing down on his back. He couldn’t breathe either, both because of the mass of Greek muscle atop his back and because he was too overcome by passion to take a breath. The body hair scratched Rob’s smooth back and left a sheen of sweat that Rob both felt and smelled.
“Hell, bitch, slut… You take dick good, damn! You must do this a lot…”
Dino rotated his hips, moving his dick in a wide circle within Rob’s ass. He hit every corner of Rob’s insides, his cock aiming into every part of Rob’s guts. He could even tell — as disgusting as it was — when his dick touched Rob’s prostate because it made Rob writhe beneath his body. He couldn’t move much, but Dino could feel his body struggle to squirm, and he sensed the pleasure roiling Rob’s innards.
Rob gasped, and Dino grunted.
Finally Dino felt his orgasm coming on strong. Rob had stopped breathing, the pressure in his ass so intense he couldn’t even gasp. Dino snorted like a hog, the sound of his rutting filling the air and echoing in Rob’s ears. Spasm of pleasure wracked both men’s bodies, which made Dino’s muscles ripple while Rob gaspingly pressed his back into Dino’s hairy chest.
“Here I go, baby, gonna fill you up, I love you so much, sweetheart-” Dino stopped and blushed because he remembered he wasn’t talking to a female. Luckily Rob either didn’t hear his words or didn’t take them seriously.
A wad of hot cum sprayed into Rob’s ass. Dino groaned loudly, his deep voice resonant and rough like sandpaper. His cum was hot and creamy, and it seeped into Rob’s flesh. Rob moaned as he shot his own load onto the floor and into his hand. Dino wrinkled his nose in disgust — he hadn’t known Rob was pleasuring himself — but he didn’t stop Rob even if it seemed disrespectful. Dino had been raised to believe a real man commanded respect, and he didn’t let his bitch distract him.
But this was too potent an orgasm to do anything while it still coursed through his veins. Dino’s hands curled into claws, then tightened into fists. He smacked Rob, not outright punching him of course, but hitting him in an affectionate way — or at least he saw it as affectionate; Rob saw it as bullying, but he was so aroused by it so he didn’t complain — harder than he would have ever hit a girl. More and more jizz jetted into Rob, until he was drenched inside and couldn’t even feel if it was still happening. But he could still feel Dino’s thickness throbbing within him, as cream and santorum dripped out between his legs.
He burped and laughed. Any girl would have kicked him out of bed for burping in their face, but Rob inhaled deeply of it and moaned. Dino screwed his nose up in disgust. His cock slowly limpened, but he remained in position, deep in Rob’s ass, his heavy body pressing down on Rob’s back.
“You ain’t gonna stiff me, is you?” Dino asked. It hadn’t occurred to him before now that Rob could just refuse to pay him, and Dino would have no recourse. He should have demanded money upfront. His dick still lay in Rob’s ass, its pulsations sending waves of pleasure up his spine.
“No. I won’t. I’ve got cash in my wallet,” Rob said, his voice strained and clipped. He bit his lip and moaned.
Dino nodded and moved to get up. When he did, his dick swam through the sea of cum that gurgled within Rob’s ass. He could feel the sticky fluid clinging to his soft cockflesh. Rivulets of jizz slid out Rob’s behind and onto the floor.
“Wait,” Rob said. “Can you stay there for a moment? I like feeling you inside me.”
“Fine,” Dino said with a grunt. It now felt pretty gross — this was more what he had imagined it would feel like before he started. He was intimately aware with every passing moment that he was inside a man’s ass. There was no way to pretend he was with a woman, not now. He reached out and grabbed Rob’s pants. “In here?”
“Yeah.” Rob’s voice was weak and wavery.
Dino pulled out the wallet. He briefly considered stealing Rob’s credit cards, but he figured someone as wealthy as Rob probably had excellent security on the cards, and Dino didn’t want to get in any legal trouble, as he might lose the right to see his daughter at all. He pulled out the cash — there was six hundred dollars in there. He took it all, though he had only been promised five hundred dollars.
“I’m taking six hundred dollars. The extra hundred bucks is for the performance I put on for your daddy,” Dino said. He pulled his dick out of Rob’s ass. “And you still gotta pay for the sink too.”
“Okay,” Rob said with a sigh. He turned around and frotted his dick with Dino’s much bigger, caramel-colored shaft. He smushed them both together.
Dino sneered. “That’s nasty, that’s nasty,” he said. But he let it continue for a few seconds, looking away. “I ain’t do no circle-jerkin’ since I was a merchant marine.” He glanced at Rob’s curious face. “When I lived in Greece, I was a merchant marine. Ain’t no females around, just a buncha A-rabs, and they do, y’know…” His cheeks turned red. “They do circle-jerkin’. I ain’t wanna.” He laughed. “But I did.” He finally put his cock away.
“Thanks, Dino,” Rob said. “You’re a great plumber.”

Jail Intake

Greg got drunk last night, so when he wakes up, he’s under arrest and being processed by the legendary cruel alpha-male bully Officer Awful! He’s in for a hardcore tale of domination, submission and utter humiliation!

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Greg was still drunk, but he felt serious now. It had all seemed like a big joke when he was being arrested. He laughed the whole time. But he had been left in the little waiting area for what felt like hours, and the silence and the solitude made him realize he was in big trouble. It was just some drunk-in-public stuff, but he had gotten into it with the cop — into it hard — and they were going to hit him with resisting arrest, assaulting an officer, destruction of property and who even knew what else! Greg was fucked.
Now at last a bulky cop with a shit-eating grin came to get him. That wasn’t the simpering little nerd-looking cop who arrested Greg for public drunkenness. This man had an air of authority.
“Good evening, Mister Hardesty, my name is Officer Auffernan. Some people call me Officer Awful. I don’t condone that,” he said. He held up one hand as though he was testifying in court. “But I don’t forbid it. I’m gonna process you into jail tonight. Now unfortunately our only judge for the weekend has gone home, so you’re going to have wait to be arraigned on Monday.”
“For public drunk’ness?” Greg hiccuped, still slightly drunk.
“I’ll tell you when the time for questions has come,” Officer Auffernan said. “And you should address me as sir.”
“Uh… yes, sir.”
“Hmm, thank you, Mister Hardesty. I’m going to start calling you ‘fuckweasel’. Will that trigger anything in you? Was ya mama raped by a weasel or something like that? Good.” He didn’t give Greg a chance to say anything. Officer Auffernan frowned down at Greg like a disgusting species of frog. “Now what I’m going to do next is punch you right in the belly, as hard as I can.” He lowered his head to look Greg in the eye. Greg blanched, but Officer Auffernan held his head in place. “But don’t you worry, there is a valid penological reason for it.”
Then there was an explosion of pain, so fast that Greg didn’t even realize it had happened until he was already on the floor, clutching his belly. He cried out and twitched so hard his head banged into the wall.
“Now get up and take ya clothes off. I need to search you for contraband. If you is bringin’ contraband into my jail, I will rock ya fuckin’ world, fuckweasel.”
But Greg could do nothing more than groan and squirm. He tried to stagger to his feet, but he was at a loss for breath. He hoarsely squeaked out a gasp, and he managed only to kneel on one foot.
“I said get up and take ya clothes off, fuckweasel!”
Every move he made was arduous. Greg let out a sob and a cry of pain as Officer Auffernan got down real close. He shouted like a drill instructor, his spit splashing onto Gary’s face.
“Take your clothes off, fuckweasel, right now, or I swear to God I will shove this entire jail up your asshole!”
Even as Greg started to unbutton his shirt, fumbling from both pain and terror, Officer Awful kept his face so near his breath condensed on Gary’s cheeks. “Hurry up, fuckweasel. I’ve got a nice hard cot with your name on it. You are gonna regret every day you ever breathed air on this planet, you are gonna feel like a mule rented by a red-headed stepchild if you don’t hurry your stupid ass up, boy. Do you think I am playing with you? Huh? Do you?”
“No! No!” Greg gasped. One of the buttons flew off his shirt, which ripped as he tore it off himself. He threw it on the floor.
Officer Awful pushed Greg over as he tried to drop his pants, and he fell to the ground. “Hurry up, fuckweasel!”
“I’m trying!” Greg ripped the fly of his jeans trying to get them off, as he sobbed into the linoleum floor. It was cold and felt wet, in a vaguely urinal-y way that churned Greg’s stomach. Humiliation rose up in him. He didn’t know how his life was turning out this way. He wasn’t this kind of guy — he wasn’t a criminal, a bad boy.
Was it the alcohol? Greg didn’t think of himself as an alcoholic. He didn’t drink every day. Well… not every day. There was a day a couple months ago… Greg somehow got his pants off over his shoes, which he kicked off as he squirmed on the moist linoleum.
“Alright, fuckweasel.” He grabbed Gary’s hair. His clothes were off, and he lay flat, panting, on the floor. Officer Awful grinned, revealing dimpled cheeks, like he woulda been handsome if he weren’t so craggy and worn. “I’m gonna tell you something in just a second. You should know that I’m telling you this as a friend — or a potential friend — this is not in my position as an officer and representative of the state government.” He took a deep breath as though confiding a great and vital secret. “Here it is: you should beg me to spit in ya mouth. It would make things go easier if you do that, as a gesture of submissive goodwill.”
“What?”
Greg doubled over again as Officer Awful punched him once more in the gut. He was already on the floor, but he now could not get up. Spasms of pain wracked his body.
“No questions!”
Greg gasped for air. He tried to apologize but couldn’t.
“Get up, now, fuckweasel!” Officer Awful mock-kicked him — kicking his foot but stopping it just centimeters from Gary’s body, so Greg flinched and wept each time. He buried his face in his arms. “Gonna turn ya head into my soccer ball, fuckweasel, if you don’t get up.”
When Greg could do little more than crawl, Officer Awful deemed that good enough and opened the door to the next little locked corridor in the jail. Crawling was the most humiliating experience in Greg’s life. His bare ass poked up high in the air, and his knees ached, his stomach ached, everything ached. He wanted to puke, run, cry and hide all at once.
“Please, uh… what, uh…you can do that, uh, spitting thing, just let me up-“
“Don’t you speak like that to me, fuckweasel. If you want something, you address me like a man, as sir, and you plan your words before you open ya mouth. None of this uh or ah business. That’s for girls and pansies, and I don’t see tits or petals on you.”
“Okay, please…” Greg found it difficult to be blunt and not say uh. “Please, you can spit in my mouth-“
‘I know I can. That ain’t what I told you as a friend,” he said. “Wasn’t you payin’ attention? I was tryin’ to be helpful.”
“Please spit in my mouth!”
He smiled again, and took off his sheriff’s hat. “Why, don’t mind if I do.” He hunkered down real close to Greg and hocked up a loogie into his mouth. It was clotty and thick, and it smelled like a doorknob. He spoke moistly as he gathered up spit in his mouth, making Gary’s stomach churn. “In my jail, we call this a ‘bitch-kiss’. It’s how a prison top makes his bottom know his place.” He let loose with another giant wad of saliva and phlegm that plopped in Gary’s mouth.
Greg choked and tried to spit it out, but Officer Awful grabbed him by the neck, squeezing tight enough that he nearly lifted Greg off the ground. Greg squealed and sputtered. Officer Awful spat again, directly into Gary’s mouth, then again. His lips were so close they nearly kissed.
“You feel it, fuckweasel? Ya feel how intimate this is?” He paused and hocked up a loogie in his mouth. He forced himself to couch to fill his mouth even more. He very moistly said, “You my bitch now, fuckweasel. I’m gonna make you open up and suck up the spit in my mouth now. It’s gonna taste real nasty, but you’re gonna choke it down while I watch. You ready?”
Greg shook his head.
“Tough…” He squeezed Gary’s cheeks until his mouth opened, and then a massive mouthful of spit and fluids landed in Gary’s mouth. He still hadn’t swallowed what was already there, so his mouth was overflowing now. Saliva flooded his face from his forehead to his chin, both Officer Awful’s and Gary’s own.
Officer Awful very slowly forced Gary’s mouth closed. “Swallow, fuckweasel. Swallow…” He massaged Gary’s neck like he was forcing a dog to swallow a pill.
Greg gagged and retched, but Officer Awful kept his mouth close and Greg could do nothing but choke back the gags emanating out of his raging stomach. He kept one arm curled over his belly as though to keep it all in. Finally he had quelled the nausea, though he could still taste snot in his mouth.
Before he could recover, Officer Awful dragged him into the next room. A handful of other officers were visible through the windows here, watching and laughing. Greg couldn’t hear them, but he could see their faces light up when they saw him. The nerdy-looking officer who had arrested Greg was there as well, leering at him. They all cheered when Greg let out a choked sob.
“Can… Can I say I’m sorry?” Greg asked. He nodded to the nerdy officer. “Can I apologize to him? I was rude to him before, last night. And… I might have hit him, I don’t remember-“
He doubled over in pain as Officer Awful punched him in the gut again. Through the soundproof glass, the watching officers laughed and cheered.
“You got freedom of speech, fuckweasel. You can always apologize. Jail rules say you can’t ask no questions, that’s why I had to punch you,” he said. “They can hear you through the loudspeaker.”
“Uh… I’m sorry, Officer… Uh… I don’t know your name-“
“Boy, what did I tell you about sayin’ uh?”
“I’m sorry!”
“Well, I appreciate your apology, fuckweasel, and yes, you were quite rude to my fellow officer last night. You said some very hurtful things. Words are weapons, doncha know. So, despite ya ‘pology, you still gotta spend a weekend with me. Don’t worry. I’m sure we gonna be real good friends,” Officer Awful said. “Do you enjoy gettin’ gutpunched?” He did so again, even harder this time, making Greg double over and gasp for air. His flat belly was crying out in pain. He could there was gonna be a huge colorful bruise there tomorrow.
“C’mon…”
“This is not the time for begging. This jail has a begging period every day, please save it for then,” Awful said. Then he directed Greg to stand over the drain in one end of the room, with his legs and arms spread, leaning against the wall. Greg’s bare ass dimpled and jiggled. It was cold in this room.
“Are you gonna…?” Greg wanted to ask if Officer Awful was going to cornhole him. That’s what it felt like in this position. But he couldn’t ask questions. “This position is… it feels like you’re going to cornhole me.”
“Oh. Do you want me to ram you up the asshole til ya buttcheeks fall off? Keep your head still, fuckweasel.” Officer Awful was doing something, getting some piece of equipment ready, but all Greg could see was the wall in front of him. Or was Awful taking off his belt?
“No, don’t! Don’t do that!”
“What was that? Are you begging me to ram you? If you really want me to, I’ll consider it later, fuckweasel. It’s technically against the rules though. Close your eyes,” he said. Then there was a cloud of white powder in the air. Greg coughed and sputtered. Officer Awful made him turn around and covered him in more of the acrid white powder. “Turn back around.”
Greg hacked as he tried to get his breath. His stomach still hurt from being punched, and his drunken headache was getting worse. He could tell — even though he couldn’t hear or see them — that Officer Martin and the other cops in the next room were laughing at him.
Water sprayed onto his back. It was ice-cold, and it made Gary’s balls crawl up in his sac. He gasped and twitched.
“Stay still, fuckweasel!”
The water was so cold Greg couldn’t breathe. His skin tightened up, and his stomach dropped. Officer Awful made him bend backover, sticking his ass in the air. He sprayed water from the hose directly onto Gary’s asshole, which hurt so bad Greg screamed. He clawed at the wall of the tiny room.
Finally the water turned off, and Officer Awful dragged Greg away, into the next room once more. Greg tried to get on his feet, but Officer Awful didn’t give him a chance to. Greg was naked and wet, so he kept slipping and couldn’t even crawl for more than a few feet, he kept collapsing as Awful kicked him and dragged him over the floor.
“Please!” Greg cried out, then clamped his mouth shut lest he start begging again, outside of the designated begging time. He wondered if there was really a designated begging time.
He was dragged over the linoleum floor, naked and wet, dizzy, nauseous. He begged, but Officer Awful barked at him to be silent every time he said anything, so all he could do was pant.
As it turned out, the next room was a medical examination. There wasn’t much to it though — Officer Awful tossed him up onto the cushioned chair and rammed his finger into Gary’s ass so fast Greg hadn’t even finishing sitting down before he felt that finger wiggling inside him.
“Let’s take a walk,” Officer Awful said. “I wanna make sure I search all up in you, and that means you gotta move. Shift your contraband around.”
“I. Don’t. Have. Any,” Greg said, gritting his teeth through the pain. He forced himself to take a step, then another, but every move he made sent waves of agony through his body.
At least he reached the doorway, and Officer Awful gave him a shove. He stumbled forward, Officer Awful moving with him and that finger stayed in his asshole the entire time.
Those other cops were there in the next room, watching and cheering as Greg stammered. He couldn’t even think about a plan because of the pain in his ass.
“Wreck him! Wreck him! Wreck him!”
“Put him on his knees, Auffernan!”
Officer Awful moved his finger like a fishhook, pointing down, and in order to alleviate the pain, Greg lowered himself. Soon he was on his knees on the ground. Officer Awful at last removed his finger.
But the relief was short-lived because he shoved his finger in Gary’s mouth. Greg gagged at the assy taste, but his head was jammed against a wall.
Then before Greg could even get his bearings or stop gagging, his mouth was pried open. He knew what was coming, but it was still shocking to feel that fleshy, rubbery limp cock slide onto his tongue. He choked all over again. Officer Awful let his dick slide out of the fly of his uniform slacks, ramming as much of it as he could fit into Gary’s mouth.
“You got contraband in yer throat, fuckweasel? Huh? If you do, I’ll find it, swear to God, and I will ram you so hard yer mama gonna feel it,” Officer Awful said. “Now listen here.” He rammed his cock in as far as it would go, maybe halfway in, as it started to stiffen up. “My pops always said you ain’t ram a fuckweasel’s throat hard enough till there’s tears comin’ out of his fuckweasel eyes and there’s ballsweat dripping from his fuckweasel chin. Ya feel me, fuckweasel? You had better swallow enough of my dick to rub my balls on your chin.”
Greg was dizzy, and he choked so hard it hurt his stomach, but with Officer Awful’s cock in his throat, he couldn’t do anything but squirm. The wall was hard and stubbly, scratching against his skin as he moved up and down. It was iron-hard, pressing at his throat like a battering ram.
Finally Officer Awful backed off to let him have a breath. Greg collapsed to the ground, but he had no sooner taken a breath before he was on the floor on his back. Officer Awful pushed him into position, then kneeled over his face so that his balls plopped on Gary’s nose.
“You had best loosen up that throat boy, or there is gonna be some consequences. You won’t like ’em one bit,” he said. Then he bent over Gary’s body like he was doing a push-up. He pointed his dick into Gary’s mouth and slammed down with all his weight.
Greg choked once more. He had never regained his breath, and now his throat was sore even before that massive cock pushed in. But Officer Awful was relentless. He pivoted his hips, laughing as Gary’s throat gradually lost its resistance.
Soon Officer Awful’s balls rested on Gary’s nose and eyes. Gary’s whole world went white, and at first he thought it was cum, that Officer Awful had finally shot his wad. But no, he just lost consciousness for a few seconds.
When he went limp, Officer Awful pulled up and out of his mouth. He patted Greg on the back of the head and chuckled as he hoarsely gasped. “There you go, you did it, hoss, good boy,” he said. “That means I am gonna ram you in the ass, but just one time. And then… well, if you be good, I just might let you go. Got it?”
He nodded.
“See, now you answered me without using words, fuckweasel. I don’t like that,” he said. “Not at all.”
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry!” Greg squealed and sobbed. “I do understand. I’ll do whatever you want.”
“I know… Get on your back, lift your feet in the air,” Officer Awful said. He got on his knees. Greg was terrified, and he especially didn’t want to take that massive dick up the ass in this position. But of course, he didn’t have any choice.
“I like rammin’ like this cuz it hurts my bitch,” Officer Awful said as though that was a good rationale. “Plus it lets me finish with a punch and a choke, so you’ll have that to look forward to.”
Greg tried to think of a way to ask what that meant without asking a question, but he had a feeling he knew the answer. Officer Awful smirked at him. He spat on Gary’s face again, and as Greg winced and gagged, he drilled his cock in.
He lightly smacked Greg on the cheek. “I’m in you now, bitch. Guess how many inches you got in ya.”
“Uh… I-“
He smacked Greg harder, and Greg groaned. “What did I tell you about saying uh?”
“You said not to. I apologize. It hurts…”
“Guess how many inches you got in you?”
“Three?” Greg had no idea, it was just a random guess.
“Wrong. Gimme yer hand,” he said. He didn’t wait. He grabbed Gary’s hand and brought it forward to his ass. The movement made the pain worse. He touched Officer Awful’s cock with one hand. There was still a whole lot of cockmeat to go. “Feel that? You only got like a half-inch in your ass.” Greg could hear deep male voices laughing from the other room — the officer who arrested him, maybe more cops too, they were over there laughing as he endured unimaginable agony.
“Yes, sir, Officer Awful.”
“Now start chanting, thank you big brother, can I have another? You got that? Keep sayin’ it ‘till I get all my dick in ya,” he said.
“Thank you big brother, can I have another! Thank you big brother, can I have another! Thank you big brother, can I have another! Thank you big brother, can I have another!” Greg shouted it at first with nothing happening, but then Officer Awful started to ram his dick in between each chant. “Thank you big brother, can I have another!” Over and over again, he pumped his hips in the silence between chants. And each time, that caused mind-blowing agony in Gary’s asshole. “Thank you big brother, can I have another!”
It continued for what felt like forever. Greg didn’t know how he managed to do it, but eventually he felt that heavy hand close over his mouth.
“Shut up, fuckweasel,” he said with a groan. “I’m all way in you now. You’re my property. Say that.”
“I’m Officer… Officer Awful’s property,” Greg said. He bit his lip and threw his head back. The pain was excruciating, and it quickly got worse as Officer Awful began to gyrate his hips back and forth.
His balls slapped against Gary’s asshole. He wrapped his arms around Gary’s ankles and pressed them close to his muscular chest. His cock throbbed deep in Gary’s ass, which squeezed and churned. He clawed at Officer Awful’s chest, but to no avail. Awful was built like a bear, and he rammed like a stallion.
“Beg me to cum. Come on, be like a porno chick, man. Improvise a little,” Officer Awful said. He spat in Gary’s mouth as soon as he opened up to speak.
“Please… Cum in me… I want your cum inside me…” Greg said through his tears of pain and humiliation. That massive cock drilled into him, back and forth, demolishing his ass, regardless of how Greg squirmed or his hole clenched. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry I was rude and drunk… Please fill me up with your cum… Please-“
He was cut off because all of a sudden Officer Awful’s hands slapped Greg’s cheeks. He then squeezed Gary’s throat, hard enough to choke him, and his other hand formed a fist. It hovered above Gary’s face.
Greg tried to scream, but he choked, so all he could do was tighten and spasm. His whole body shook. His asshole clenched around Officer Awful’s cock.
Just when he thought the pain couldn’t get any worse, Officer Awful finally punched him right in the nose. Gary screamed in pain, as Officer Awful let go of his neck and Greg let out a series of hoarse sobs. That cascade of sensations inside Gary’s body was what sent Officer Awful over the edge.
“Cummin’ up in you now, boy, you in the home stretch…”
He gasped. Greg screamed. That spectacled officer, still watching outside the room, clapped and cheered. Cum sprayed into Gary’s ass, deep, hot and creamy. It stuck to his flesh and seeped into him like mud. He choked and gagged even though nothing was in his mouth.
“Hell yeah, fuckweasel, you got a nice ass,” Officer Awful said with a sigh. “Had a nice ass.” His cock spasmed inside Greg, sending more thick wads of cum inside him. It was a massive wad, it felt like, gobs of it spreading to every corner of Greg’s insides. He felt the heat seeping into him.
Then at last, Officer Awful withdrew his dick. The most incredible relief of his life flooded Greg, who closed his eyes. He shuddered, a frisson running up his spine. He didn’t want to ever open his eyes again.
That meant he didn’t see when Officer Awful scooted forward, reached for his mouth to open it and ram his dick inside. The taste of ass and cum intermixed in Gary’s mouth, making him retch and gag so hard his stomach hurt. The shame of tasting his own ass on another man’s dick flooded Gary, and the only consolation was that he was crying too hard to see what he was doing or how many cops were laughing at him.
“Clean up your mess, fuckweasel,” Officer Awful said. He swiped his dick over Gary’s face, making him lick every inch of the shaft, tracing every vein, as Officer Awful moaned and curdled above him. The taste was foul and sickening, and Greg couldn’t stop gagging, both from disgust and from the shame of those other cops watching him at his lowest.
Finally he was done. Officer Awful pulled away, stood and pulled his pants back up. He straightened his uniform. When Greg moaned and tried to stand, he kicked him in the thigh and Greg collapsed to the ground.
“Stay here,” Officer Awful said. “Now that I’m done checking you in, it’s time to show you to your cell. Don’t worry, I promise I won’t do that again and again all weekend.”
“You said… you’d let me go…”
“I said I’d consider it. And, I am going to let you go, eventually,” he said. He winked at Greg. “But you still got punishment coming to you.”

The Jock

Avery is a masseur who finds himself servicing a studly if idiotic football jock! His name is Jimmy, he knows literally nothing and he’s desperate for someone to prove it’s possible to swallow every inch of his alpha male meat…

Can Avery satisfy Jimmy’s oral needs?

Read it now as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Avery Flowers rubbed lotion into his feet. The bottom of his feet sometimes got dry and cracked. It was awkward to do it himself because he couldn’t see where it was a problem, and he always ended up with a slippery foot afterwards. On the linoleum-tiled massage room floor at the Thackenswitch Center for Massage, that was problematic.
So when Jimmy Spokes strode in, Avery was surprised — he nearly toppled over and had to grab the counter to support himself. He wasn’t expecting anyone right now, and he lost his balance.
Plus, Jimmy was a burly jock with a studly physique. As a fervent admirer of the male form, he was immediately attracted to Jimmy’s body. Of course he didn’t know who Jimmy was yet, he was just a stranger striding into his massage room uninvited.
“Hey, you’re Avery, right?” Jimmy asked. He cocked his head to the side and tapped his feet on the ground. He had a big round face — not chiseled or handsome like an action movie star, but jolly and earnest and strong. He was naturally powerful though he didn’t have a perfect body. He had a hefty frame, a barrel-shaped chest and plenty of meat to his body. He looked like he was naturally very fat, but only had an athletic shape because he was so high-energy. He was a tight end on the GHU football team.
“Uh… Hey.” Avery furrowed his brow at the shapely intruder.
“I don’t think it’s a big deal, I know she thinks I’m embarrassed, but I’m not.” Jimmy paused. “Okay, I am.” He laughed and turned red, his lightly Southern accent echoing against the high ceilings. “Okay, just… Are you okay? You don’t have to do this.”
Avery had been momentarily distracted by Jimmy’s physique. Now he thought he must have missed something. He didn’t know what Jimmy was talking about.
“Uh… what?”
“Didn’t Elaine tell you?”
“No. I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Avery said. “Oh… Wait, you mean Elaine Gambrill? You’re Jimmy?”
He beamed and pounded on his chest, then took off his shirt. His chest was set with huge strapping muscles. “That’s right.” He paused. “Sorry, I don’t know how to do this. Am I supposed to kiss you?” He blushed as red as a cranberry. “I can’t do that! Don’t make me do that! I’m like… I’m not allowed to kiss you, on account of, because of, the reason… See, I, uh… “
“Okay, Jimmy, tell me what you’re talking about. Where’s Elaine?”
“I just don’t want to kiss you.”
“Why was that ever the plan!?”
“It wasn’t!” He hopped up onto the massage table like it was an exam table and he was waiting for his doctor. He laid there with his hands behind his head. “Hey, you watch football, right? I was trying to get Elaine to come over to watch a game and she was being ridiculous. She said football is as boring as watching paint fly, which I think would be amazing, I’d totally watch paint fly. If it was blue, you’d never see it. If you were outside. And it wasn’t cloudy. And it was daytime. Or if it was nighttime, you’d never see it either, but for a different reason.”
“Ah. Okay.” Avery sighed. Elaine had said her new boyfriend was an idiot — she had said it much more nicely and hadn’t used the i-word, but now that Avery had met him, he knew exactly what Elaine had been hinting at.
There was a loud banging knock on the door and a hoot like someone was watching a stripper. Avery was startled, but Jimmy just guffawed. He got up and opened the door. He stuck his head out into the hall and laughed. “Fuck you, George! Get outta here! You’re the pansy!” He turned around and smiled at Avery. “Sorry, was that offensive words? He’s just a total retard. So it’s not offensive. Don’t tell Elaine.”
“Okay. Jimmy, Jimmy, please tell me what you’re here for. Do you want a massage?”
He had a big silly grin on his goofy face. “Oh wow, yeah! Can you do that?”
“Yes, Jimmy. This is a massage parlor. You have to pay. Elaine didn’t tell you I’d do it for free, did she?”
“Not the massage! But I’m not paying for the… other thing.” Jimmy blushed again. He bit his lip. “Is that… ? Sorry, are you…?”
“Jimmy, please just say it. What the hell is going on?”
“Didn’t Elaine tell you?”
“No! No! I’ve told you that, I said it before! If I knew what was going on, I wouldn’t have a face like a confused white guy, would I?”
He laughed again, or rather he continued to laugh, since he hadn’t stopped since he walked in, his deep barrel-shaped voice echoing in the massage room. “Okay, well, I… You’re supposed to, like… jerk me off.” He paused and licked his lips, his ruddy face breaking out in sweat. “Sorry, I guess I thought she told you. Oh, I am supposed to give you this. Is that right?” He pulled a jockstrap out of his pocket and handed it to Avery. “What do you do with that? It’s too big for you. Can you really sell that?”
“Oh.” Avery took the jockstrap. It was used, stained with sweat, and he could smell the unwashed musk of it already. He was too confused still to really think about what was going on. “What? I’m supposed to sell this? Like online?”
“Online? I guess, I don’t care. Is that a rule?”
Avery sighed. “Jimmy, why did you give this to me?”
“Elaine said I had to.”
“Did she give you a reason?”
“She said you would like it,” he said. “She didn’t say why.”
“Ah, okay. Thank you for explaining that,” Avery said. He rolled his eyes. He had made a joke once to Elaine about how he would like to sniff her boyfriend’s jock — that hadn’t been Jimmy, she was dating a different big buff athlete then — and she constantly brought it up. Avery blushed a little because she wasn’t exactly wrong; he’d probably sniff that and jack off later. He was hardly a jockstrap-enthusiast though.
“So you’re not going to sell it?”
“Sell it? No. It’s not-“
“So what do you do with it? Is it a collection?”
“A collection? Jimmy-“
He must have realized there was a sexual component then because his eyes opened wide and he jumped to his feet. He jumped up and down. “Oh it’s a… Oh shit!” He opened the door. “Hey, George! He’s gonna sniff it or something, I think. It’s like, he’s into sweat!”
George was out in the waiting room. He said something Avery couldn’t hear, but it sounded like he and Jimmy had been brainstorming theories as to why the jockstrap was important.
Jimmy went back to the massage table and sat down. He took his shoes and socks off. “I’m glad Elaine didn’t tell you to jerk me off. She might have told you to do it badly. Will you tell her I did it right? Tell her I asked about her. No, wait, tell her I was a good listener. Tell her I told you about the thing… about her job. Tell her I told you what she told me about her job.”
“What?”
“About her boss, he’s like… Jerry, I think. He, uh… She doesn’t like him. There’s a whole thing — I don’t remember, but tell her I said it. Tell her I was listening,” he said. He took his football jersey off and tossed it on the floor. His broad chest muscles were covered in scruffy tufts of fur.
“Listening to what?”
“To her!” He had a big grin like he thought Avery should already know what he was talking about.
“You mean the attendance policy at work? Jerry changed the rules about how much notice she has to give for time off.”
He nodded. “Yeah, that. Tell her I told you about that. Tell her I listen to her.”
“Jimmy… You aren’t really making much sense. Elaine told you to come see me, give me a jockstrap and you want me to tell her that you told me about her job, even though she didn’t.”
“She did!”
“You weren’t listening?”
“I was! I was trying! There was a football game on! Or, I mean, I was playing a football game on my X-Box. It was on the TV,” Jimmy said. “And you have to jerk me off.”
“What?”
“That’s the whole thing!”
“Oh my god, Jimmy, talking to you is like talking to the Cheshire Cat if it smoked a lot of weed. I’m supposed to jerk you off?”
“Yes!” He blushed again. He realized Avery was looking at his bare chest. “Hey, do you think…?” His eyes opened wide. “Oh shit, my neighbor’s like that! Whenever I lift weights he comes out and he has that look on his face!” He shrugged. “You might know him. Like… Spencer or something? He’s an… office… guy? He does something with paper. He uses a computer, I think. Maybe not all the time. Or is it a museum? Do people work in museums?”
“Jimmy, why did Elaine want you to get dome from me?”
“Oh,” he blushed and bit his lip. He jumped back up on the massage table, wearing only dirty jeans. “She said no one can deep-throat it cuz it’s too big.” He beamed proudly. “She said you’ll prove it. You swallow dick better than anyone. She said if you can’t deep-throat it, I can’t ask her to do it ever again.”
“Oh.” It was Avery’s turn to blush. He was a little annoyed that Elaine hadn’t told him first, but then, he suspected that she didn’t plan for it to happen that way. Jimmy was annoying because he had assumed Avery already knew the plan; Elaine no doubt assumed Jimmy would be nice and politely ask Avery to jerk him off. Jimmy assumed somebody else had made all the arrangements.
“You do it up the ass, right?” Jimmy asked. Then he blurted out, “Not me! I mean, I don’t wanna do anal, that’s not why I’m asking. Can you tell Elaine to do it? Tell her I’ll use lots of lube. Tell her it doesn’t always hurt-“
“Jimmy, hush.”
“Tell her that, okay? Come on, I can do it. I had a girl give up the ass once. She loved it.” He leaned in and whispered to Avery, “She was black. Is that okay? Can I say that?”
“Jimmy, be quiet,” Avery said, shaking his head. “Just stop talking. I’ll jerk you off if you stop talking.”
Jimmy did lean back, but only for a half-second before he got up and opened the door again. “Hey, George, he’s doing it! He’s gonna do it!” He laughed at whatever George said. “No way, man, you’d do that! You want it so bad! We all saw you with that fat girl!”
Avery grabbed Jimmy around the waist and pulled him away from the door. Jimmy’s strapping body tensed beneath Avery’s body because he tried to get back out in the hall. Avery dragged him in. “This is a spa, Jimmy, please stop shouting through the halls.”
“Okay, sorry, I was just telling George that we all know he fucked a fat girl, we saw her-“
“Stop, shut up. I know what you were saying. I was there,” Avery said. “Sit down and lean back.”
“Okay. I like fat girls. You’re bossy like Elaine is. You two must hang out bossing each other around,” Jimmy said. “Don’t tell her I said that. I meant it in a good way. Tell her that.” He paused. “Don’t tell her-“
“Jimmy, shut up. I’ll decide what to tell her about today.”
“Oh, sorry,” he said with a sheepish grin. He had just gotten back on the massage table, leaning back and about to pull his pants down when he sat up once more. He looked at the Delaware state flag on the wall (this massage parlor was owned by a Delawarean who was proud of his state for unfathomable reasons). “Is that… a flag?”
Avery rolled his eyes. “Sure is. Nothing gets past you,” Avery said with a sigh. “Elaine needs to sew your mouth shut.”
“No, I lick her pussy and I do a good job and I-“
“Jesus Christ, stop talking about vaginas. Lift your ass up, Jimmy.”
He did lift himself up so Avery could undo his belt and pull his pants down. “Okay, I was just gonna ask if you could-“
“I know what you were asking.”
“-talk Elaine into doing something hot so I could watch. She could do something with other girls. You’d have to provide the girls,” he said.
“I’ll check my pantry,” Avery said. His annoyance disappeared at the sight of Jimmy’s massive manhood. He had been so distracted it hadn’t really occurred to him that Elaine sent him here to prove that he couldn’t be deep-throated, which would only be an issue if he had a huge cock. Now that he thought about it, Elaine had mentioned it was more than a foot long and as thick as a coke can. Avery had assumed that was just bragging, but, it seemed, it was real.
“See, it’s big, huh?” Jimmy got up, limp cock flopping all over, to go to the door and say something to George again. But his pants were around his ankles, a fact that he forgot until he toppled to the ground. “Ah shit.” He groaned. “I fell.”
“Jimmy…” Avery sighed.
Jimmy struggled to stand again. He blushed. “Sorry. I was gonna tell George you were impressed by it. George always says no one wants to see that, he says I have an ugly cock like a dead cricket bat. It doesn’t even make sense. He says I shouldn’t whip it out.” He made it to the door this time. “Hey, George! He said-“
Avery clamped one hand over Jimmy’s mouth. “Jimmy, shut the fuck up. Quit yelling in my massage parlor.”
Jimmy turned around and shuffled back into the room, pants around his ankles and huge cock swaying between his legs. “Sorry. I just wanted to tell George you thought it was the biggest you’ve ever seen.”
“I… didn’t say that.”
Jimmy hopped back up onto the table. His dick bobbed around like a wand. “Hey, can black guys be werewolves?”
It was such a non-sequitur that Avery could do little more than do a double-take and ignore the question. He was excited to finally start on Jimmy’s cock. He shivered in anticipation when he touched Jimmy’s the shaft, which was fleshy and warm. He gave it a stroke.
Jimmy giggled. “Ah, that tickles.” He paused. “So what do you think, can black guys be werewolves?”
“I don’t understand the question. Werewolves aren’t real.”
“So?”
“So… no. Black guys can not be werewolves. No one can,” Avery said. “Can I just jerk you off now?”
“Yeah, fine, go for it,” Jimmy said. Then he shouted towards the door. “Hey, George-!” He stopped himself. He fished his cell phone out of his pants, which were around his ankles, so reaching down there almost made him fall off the table. If he didn’t have such a powerful upper body, he probably would have fallen. “I’ll text him so I don’t have to shout.” Then he did shout anyway, he just aimed it at his cell phone as he typed out his message. “You can’t have black werewolves, George!”
Avery stroked his dick. He hoped focusing on that would make Jimmy focus on his dick. If he got hard, Avery thought, Jimmy would have to pay attention.
“We’re going to write a movie. It’s about werewolves. Werewolves are really cool. Our movie’s gonna have, like, so much shit, it’ll be great. We watch all the action movies, man, we got it figured out. We’re experts. We’re totally going to do this. It’s not just werewolves, there’s like… helicopters. And some girl stuff too, don’t worry, like there’s a science chick and some romance shit, and like… and, uh… like there’ll be scenes where people just talk. And, uh, shadows. And colors. So it’ll be cool. We’re gonna call it Primal Power. It’s gonna be badass. There’s aliens too.”
His dick was getting hard, even though Jimmy seemed to be paying no attention to it. He looked like he thought Avery might invest in this movie if he just described it well enough. Avery had literally no money, but Jimmy didn’t consider that possibility. Avery got down lower and planted his lips on it. The taste of his funky cock, mixed with faint, watered-down cologne, flooded Avery’s senses.
That got Jimmy’s attention. He looked down, seemingly surprised by what was happening. Then he moaned and his dick twitched. “No vampires in the movie, George is wrong about that, no way am I putting vampires in… oh, damn that feels good.” Avery resolved to stop responding to him at all. Jimmy would have to stop talking once his dick was fully hard and in Avery’s mouth.
It was so thick and long it didn’t even feel real at first. Soon it was hard as steel, throbbing and pulsating beneath Avery’s tongue. Avery slathered spit up and down. For the first time since he had walked in, Jimmy was quiet for a few moments.
“Oh shit, man, I can’t believe you’re doing it,” Jimmy said. He laughed. “Hey, George! He’s doin’ it!” He laughed sheepishly. “My dick’s hard.” The he moaned again and his voice broke. “Ah, fuck, fuck, my dick’s real hard.”
“It’s so big,” Avery said with a smirk and a smile. It was hard to believe how huge it was. Jimmy was a big boy, so it almost didn’t seem as big as it really was — it didn’t go all the way to his knees, for example, because he was so tall, so until Avery touched it, it didn’t seem as big as others he had touched. But now that he stroked its veiny shaft, it was clear that this was bigger than any dick he had touched before. On a short man, it would have reached to his knees and maybe even past that.
“I got a donkey dick,” Jimmy said with a silly leer, a mixture of embarrassment and pride. “That’s what Coach Marshall says.”
“He’s right.” Avery tried to deep-throat him, but it was obvious that couldn’t happen. He’d have struggled to deep-throat a cock half this size.
“You can’t do it?” Jimmy said. He shrugged and sighed. “Can you tell Elaine you did?”
“She’d just make me demonstrate it on a zucchini or something,” Avery said. “She wouldn’t believe me. She’s smaller than me, Jimmy. If I can’t deep-throat you, she can’t either.”
“Man…” He rolled his eyes. “Fine.”
Avery swallowed as deep as he could. He enjoyed struggling to deep-throat a man, and Jimmy was perfect. When Avery’s fingers crawled up Jimmy’s powerful chest to tweak his nipples, Jimmy’s eyes opened wide like he was shocked. He watched his pecs ripple beneath Avery’s grasp.
A painful-sounded strangled cry erupted in Jimmy’s throat. His balls crawled up in his sac, and that entire cockshaft pulsated in Avery’s mouth. The flavor of salty cum hit him just seconds before the first jet of juices hit the back of his throat. It trickled down his gullet.
“Ah shit, man, ah shit, I’m sorry!” He groaned and grabbed Avery’s head, holding him in place as he drained a massive load into Avery’s throat.
Salty sweet cum flooded Avery’s senses. He guzzled down every drop, as Jimmy continued to apologize — it soon became apparent that Elaine (and probably other girlfriends in the past) had demanded that Jimmy not shoot in her mouth. With a big dick and low-hanging balls like that, that made sense to Avery. Jimmy apparently assumed that Avery felt the same way.
Instead, Avery loved cum. He would have gladly swallowed even more of it. Its creamy richness coated his belly and the sour flavor enlivened his senses.
He sighed as he pulled back. Jimmy let out an even louder, more grandiose sigh. He closed his eyes for a moment, while Avery slurped the last remnants of cum off his dick. Jimmy’s broad muscles twitched and he grunted.
“How was that?”
“Ah, hell yeah, man,” Jimmy said. His red face looked relaxed, ready to go to sleep. But he swung his legs to the ground and ran to the door again. He stepped out into the hall, cum-dripping cock still half-hard and jutting out from his hefty body. “Hey George! I did it! He couldn’t deep-throat me either, man, you were wrong! His throat isn’t infinitely big and I didn’t feel his Adam’s apple and he said the movie sounds amazing, but black guys can’t be werewolves, you dummy!”
“Jimmy! Shut up!”
Jimmy blushed as he realized he had walked out stark naked, dick still dripping fluids onto the floor. No one else was in the hall, but there was an old lady in the waiting room peering towards Jimmy as though trying to figure out if he was naked or not. She squinted through her glasses. Jimmy darted back into the massage room.
“Ah, man, that old lady totally saw my knob. Hey George! Did you see that old lady, she totally-?”
“Jimmy, shut up! Put your clothes on! Or I’m telling Elaine you’re a terrible listener.”
“Okay, fine, fine, sorry, geez,” he said. He giggled. “Oh, yeah, can you tell Elaine I take, uh, academics seriously? Tell her I study a lot. And I shower every day.”
“Just put your clothes on.” Avery sighed, glad to have Jimmy finally leave. He hadn’t even gotten his clothes all the way on, still pulling his pants up when he got distracted and ran into the hall. He shouted for George, tripped on his pants and rammed into the wall, where he knocked a painting of a lighthouse off the wall.
“Sorry,” Jimmy said absent-mindedly. He headed out into the waiting room. “He did it, George! I told you he would!”
Avery shook his head. He got out his cell phone. He was going to text Elaine something about her idiot boyfriend.

Reacharound From a Drill Sergeant

Avery is a cleaner at a military base, so when he decides to tease a cruel drill sergeant, he is able to take it farther than he ever thought possible! Avery is not as obedient as Sergeant Powers expects his cadets to be, which means Avery just might be in for a reacharound he’ll never forget…

Sir, yes, sir!

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Avery stood in the barrack with a mop in hand. He waited. He thought it would be a long wait, but that didn’t end up being the case.
That was because Drill Sergeant Powers went for a run this morning. He didn’t always run in the mornings because there was a good chance he’d run across some cadets doing something against the rules — sneaking back onto base after an illicit night in town, for example — and then he’d need to punish them. He had a reputation for strictness, so he couldn’t look the other way when he saw cadets sneaking in. But he didn’t want to enforce every rule quite that strictly. He thought it was important to let them get away with certain things. It provided a certain sense of camaraderie among soldiers, and it gave them skills in sneaking, spycraft and teamwork. Plus, ignoring certain lesser offenses gave him the time and the latitude to go after major ones.
So he only went for an early-morning jog when he was pretty sure he wouldn’t run across any cadets breaking the rules. Today, he could easily make that assumption because there were no cadets on the base — they had all left yesterday, to be replaced later today by the first of the new batch.
So as far as Sergeant Powers was concerned, the base was empty. It wasn’t literally empty, of course, there were support staff and other drill sergeants, plus the ever-burgeoning ranks of military administration. But compared to the constant thrum of activity from the young men who filled up the barracks, this was a dead land, like the corpse of a military base, like it was some post-apocalyptic wasteland, Powers thought, and nature was about to start reclaiming this area.
When Sergeant Powers saw a flash of movement in one of the barracks, he barged right in. There shouldn’t be anyone in there, he thought, unless one of the cleaners had come in early today.
“Who’s in there?” His booming voice rang out.
Avery started mopping when he heard Sergeant Powers come into the barrack. Powers was burly and middle-aged and a bit jowly but with a body to die for, great strapping muscles and thick thighs. This morning he wore a tight tee shirt, Army-green, soaked with sweat until it was nearly translucent. Avery could see the hair coating his chest through the shirt.
And oh god those shorts made Avery’s dick hard. They were ridiculous — the kind of short-shorts that the Army made soldiers wear back in the 50s, when that was normal. They would have made Daisy Duke blush. They showed off Sergeant Powers’s thick thighs and tightly accentuated the pouch of his jockstrap stretching the fabric of the shorts, which pulled them low enough that one of the straps was visible running above his plump old-man ass.
“Oh, hi,” Avery said. He smiled bashfully as though this was an accident and he hadn’t meant to see Sergeant Powers like this. Hmmm… he’s got on nasty old shoes… Avery wasn’t a foot-fetishist, but he thought it was cute that Sergeant Powers still wore these ancient, dilapidated sneakers — the young men on base always wore fashionable, ultra-clean sneakers when running. Only old guys would wear old-fashioned short-shorts with beaten-down old shoes.
Of course Sergeant Powers wasn’t old, he was maybe forty-five or so, that was why Avery had been lusting for him for so long. He blushed when he made eye contact with Sergeant Powers, who looked at him suspiciously.
“You’re a cleaner. Why are you here so early?”
“I just… I have a doctor’s appointment later today,” Avery said. “I needed to get my work done early. They said there are no cadets today so it didn’t matter-“
“Yes.” Sergeant Powers barked like he was angry. Then he snorted and wiped his lips with one hand. He interacted almost exclusively with cadets he was allowed to order around, so he sometimes had trouble focusing on a more normal interaction with civilians. “Yes,” he said more softly, though his voice was still a guttural growl that bounced around in Avery’s ears.
“Oh,” Avery said, blushing. “Cool.” He resumed mopping, but he jutted his ass out, aiming it at Sergeant Powers.
Avery didn’t need to be facing him to tell that there was a reaction on Sergeant Powers’s face. His eyes opened wide, and he took a deep breath, nostrils flaring. Avery could feel his eyes aimed at Avery’s plump ass.
Avery mopped, but the mop just shifted around uselessly because he focused more on seducing Sergeant Powers, who now had no reason to be in the barrack but still hadn’t left. His eyes were trained on Avery’s ass.
Then he grunted. “Uh, I… I… What is that?!” he bellowed at no one in particular and picked up a pair of scissors somebody had left behind on a counter. “It’s scissors! It’s… Somebody left these. Nothing sharp in the barracks.”
“Uh-huh. You want me to throw them away for you?” Avery said. He took the scissors, ignoring the growing bulge in Sergeant Powers’s shorts — which were too short and tight to leave anything to the imagination.
Sergeant Powers’s whole body bucked. He closed his eyes and didn’t say anything at first. Then at last he gurgled and said, “No… I… I will keep them.” He put them back down.
“Are you okay?” Avery asked, clucking his tongue. “You look weak. Maybe you’ve been jogging too much, you poor baby.” He patted Sergeant Powers on the sweaty side of his body, and his touch made his whole body ripple, and a little baritone grunt was emitted from his mouth. Avery held his hand up. “Ew, you’re all sweaty!” He smiled at Sergeant Powers. “That’s so gross.”
“Sorry.” Sergeant Powers blushed. He was glad no cadets were around. He had blushed talking to a woman once in front of some cadets, and years later whole new groups of cadets had heard about it and laughed.
“Oh, that’s okay, sweetie, you can make it up to me,” Avery said. “My back itches.” He turned around and rubbed his back and ass against Sergeant Powers’s body, his sweaty flesh rubbing against Avery’s clothed ass and back. Avery felt the hardon in Sergeant Powers’s shorts, and he felt all of his muscles ripple again when his hardon pulsated and a grunt fell out of his mouth.
“Shit… I… Ain’t you s’posed to be mopping?” Sergeant Powers said. Goddamn, that ass just doesn’t quit.
“Hmmm… Yes, I’m supposed to,” Avery said. “But I just can’t seem to focus. I don’t have the discipline.”
“Discipline is my specialty,” Sergeant Powers said. His nostrils flared. “Get back to mopping, cadet!”
Avery saluted — though he faced the wrong way, so he merely saluted the bunk in front of him. “Sir, yes, sir!” He took the mop in hand and started running it over the floor in a little circle. “Sir, like this, sir?” He bent over even farther to keep his ass in front of Sergeant Powers’s crotch.
“No, cadet, you little shitheel maggot! Ain’t ya mama evuh teach you to mop, motherfucker!”
“Sir, no, sir, I’m sorry-“
“Well then I reckon your mama must be the dumbest cunt a donkey ever fucked onstage, ain’t that right? Is your daddy a donkey, son?”
“Sir, yes, sir!” Avery said. He held back a series of snickers, but he soon let up and the snickers turned into full-on guffaws. He stopped when Powers aimed a threatening face at him.
“You laughin’ at me, cadet? Am I a clown for ya? Huh? Do I amuse you?”
“Sir, no, sir-“
“Cuz I said to mop, not laugh. I ain’t seein’ a lotta moppin’ goin’ on!” His deep voice echoed in the empty barrack. Avery took a step away then to keep his teasing going. He mopped seriously for just a moment, then looked over his shoulder at Sergeant Powers’s ruddy face. “Did I say to look at me, cadet?! You don’t decide where to look! Your eyes are owned by Uncle Sam now, and Uncle Sam wants ‘em aimed at that floor! You had better mop until I can eat off that floor!”
“Sir, yes, sir!” Avery said, holding back a giggle. “Sir, when you eat off the floor, are you going to do it like this?” Avery lowered his head until his face was on the floor, but he kept his ass high in the air, shaking it back and forth in front of Sergeant Powers’s body. His dick was blatantly hard now, and it must have slipped out of his jockstrap because it jutted forward in his shorts.
“Cadet! You’re playing games, and if it’s not Tiddlywinks, I am not interested in any games! Do you understand me?”
“Sir, yes, sir!”
“Because I’m not so sure you do! Where are you from, cadet?!”
“Canada. Most recently.”
“Canada?! Canada?! The only thing they got in Canada is boars and whores, and I don’t hear you squealing like a piggie! Not yet anyway.”
“Sir, not yet, sir! I can squeal like a piggie on command! Or any other squeal-type animal! Sir!”
“You look like the kinda man who would ram another man in the ass and not have the common courtesy to give that man a reacharound! Is that the kind of man you are?”
“Sir, no, sir! I love reacharounds, sir-” Avery yelped because he felt one of those big sausage-like fingers on his ass. Powers gripped his cheeks roughly, like a hunk of dough he wanted to rip off. A chamberous growl came out of his chest at the same time. Avery moved to stand up, but Sergeant Powers pushed him back to the mop. Avery had to lean on it for support.
“Let’s see if that’s true! If you’re lying to me, boy, I swear, I will have you guarding Bumfuck, Canada from the walrus-men before you can blink! Do you believe me?!”
“Sir, yes, sir! I’m from Bumfuck, Canada, sir, I know the walrus-men. They want only peace and fresh mackerel-“
“You think this is a joke, cadet?!” His hand rammed underneath Avery’s pants, pulling them down roughly and tearing his underwear in his haste to bare his ass. “I didn’t tell you to stop mopping, did I?”
“Sir, no, sir! Uh… I just didn’t want to be distracted — so I can do the best mopping job possible-“
His callused fingers kneaded Avery’s ass with such force it hurt. One of his fingers extended into Avery’s smooth asscrack. He teased the rim of his hole. “You had better do the best job possible! This Army is not in the business of giving a gun and a uniform to any piece of shit capable of doing a couple push-ups, you little pissant! This Army gives guns and uniforms to men, who can do things right the first time, men who can follow orders, cadet!”
“Sir, yes, sir!”
“So you keep mopping and you don’t stop even for one moment!” Sergeant Powers grinned behind Avery, his heart pounding. He hadn’t expected today to go like this. He hadn’t even been horny until he saw the cleaner — who worked for an outside contracting crew and was obviously a limpwristed sissy ogling cadets every chance he got, Powers had been noticing that for weeks. Then as soon as he saw Avery’s ass and felt it rubbing against his cock, Powers had been overwhelmed by an intense and uncontrollable desire to — as the young cadets said — ‘bust a nut’. That was not a vernacular Sergeant Powers could endorse. Literally, the Army had policies on that sort of thing.
Now he desperately wanted to ram someone who could take every inch of his big dick without complaint, allowing him to plow in with all his might. He loved women, of course, but they never really let him go hard, and sometimes, he didn’t want to be nice.
This was one of those times. “Don’t you turn your head and look at me, you little punk! Your ass belongs to the Army now!”
“Sir, yes, sir!”
His ass was bare, jutting upward. Sergeant Powers couldn’t even see his face now, just that ass, so plump and small yet big enough to have a little padding. He spread the cheeks and stroked his dick with one hand. “Do you feel like begging me to lube your ass up, cadet?!”
“Sir, yes, sir! Please, sir, lube me up! I can’t take it if you don’t use lube!”
“I don’t have any lube, so I’ll have to use spit, cadet! That’s all you’re worthy of anyway, I’d never spend money on lube for your dumb ass anyway!”
“Sir, yes, sir!” Avery cried out. He leaned forward on the mop handle, which he still tried to move around like he was cleaning the floor. But it was hard with Sergeant Powers kneading his ass flesh and spreading his cheeks. The mop itself was slippery, so it didn’t support Avery well, and he had to focus on keeping it upright instead of sliding away. That made it hard to arch his back as Sergeant Powers required.
When Powers got Avery’s ass high enough and his own crotch low enough, he lined his dick up with Avery’s hole. “Soldier, you had best get ready, cuz you is in for it now. You in for a world of trouble. You ready for it.”
“Ye — eeeesssss!” Avery yelped because Powers forced his dick in with one powerful thrust before Avery had even finished agreeing. A burst of pain erupted in Avery’s backside, followed by a surge of blood-curdling pleasure. He grunted and mewled, his body twisting back and forth because both his feet and the mop stayed in the same place.
“Does that hurt, cadet?” Sergeant Powers grunted. He spat noisily in his palm and wiped it on his dick, the tip of which sat in Avery’s tight asshole. His whole body undulated as he tried to ram and ram and ram, forcing his dick in despite Avery’s tight hole. He wanted to break that smoothbody open, and he pressed his hairy chest against Avery’s back. His chest hair was already matted to his skin with the sweat from the morning’s run, so it rubbed moist and coarse and salty all at once over Avery’s shoulders and spine. The sensation and the rank and utter manhood smell made Avery’s cock spasm and spew precum even before anybody had touched it.
Avery bit his lip. “Sir, yes, sir! It hurts bad!”
“No it doesn’t, cadet! Your ass is owned by the Army, right? That means you don’t feel pain without my permission!” He pumped his hips, forcing more and more of his dick in. Avery shuddered and moaned into the mop handle.
“Sir, yes, sir! I’m sorry, sir!”
“This feels as good as lemonade in August, you little punk!”
“Sir, yes, sir-“
“Shut up! You’re from Canada, cadet, you wouldn’t know jack-shit about hot summers!” He held back a chuckle as Avery’s back rippled and more of his dick slipped in that tight hole. Soon his balls swayed and slapped against Avery’s backside. That sent further ripples of bliss up Avery’s spine. Powers grunted. “To you, I expect this feels as good as gravy on ya french fries-“
“Sir, yes, sir!”
“Which I had better never see you do, cadet! If I ever see you put gravy on ya french fries in the mess hall, I swear I’ll stick my foot so far up your ass my toes sing ‘O, Canada’ using your goddamn vocal cords!”
“Sir, yes, sir!” Avery let out a loud moan as a wave of pleasure hit him suddenly. He lifted his head up, and the motion made the mop he was leaning on move — it was still wet and on the slick floor, so it was only a matter of time until it slid across the linoleum.
Avery would have toppled to the ground, but Sergeant Powers grabbed him. He was stretched out though, his entire body rigidly diagonal and taut, and he still felt like he would fall flat on his face and belly at any moment. He was supported entirely in Powers’s brick-muscled arms. His powerful chest pressed against Avery’s back, while cock throbbed in Avery’s ass.
“Ah, shit, son…” Sergeant Powers grunted, unable to bring himself to move now, even though it was difficult to keep Avery upright in this position, because it felt too good. But he didn’t want it to feel too much like he was making love so he moved his hips, grinding his dick and making Avery cry out again in both pleasure and pain. “Did I say to stop moppin’, cadet?!”
“Sir, no, sir!” Avery gritted his teeth and lifted his head arduously, ignoring the waves of pleasure making his back undulate and his mouth gasp for air. His responses now were more breathless and less loud, a fact that made Drill Sergeant Powers cluck his tongue.
“You ain’t usin’ ya big boy voice now, is ya! C’mon, lemme hear you say it!” Sergeant Powers said, watching as Avery’s hands trembled moving the mop handle around. He wasn’t really mopping effectively, but he was moving the mop across the floor. “C’mon, son, soldiers gotta have a voice you can hear!”
“Sir… I… Sir… I’m mopping now! Sir!” Avery gasped and squirmed, holding the mop handle against his body with both hands, so he used his entire lithe frame to move it around, like he was hugging and kissing the mop handle instead of Sergeant Powers.
A jolt of pleasure shot up Sergeant Powers’s spine as well, and he took a deep breath. His thick paws moved down Avery’s smooth body, grimacing a little when he felt his cock — Powers had jacked men off before — that kind of thing was not such a big deal when he was in boot camp, and circlejerks were common — yet he still felt a twinge of disgust at it.
Avery’s dick throbbed, rock-hard, in Sergeant Powers’s hand, the skin of which was rough like leather but slick from sweat and spit, which made it soft and intense and provocative of an intense constellation of sensations. Precum flowed down the shaft of Avery’s manhood, further lubing up Sergeant Powers’s grip. It felt angry, insistent, already humping his hand from the moment he touched it, Avery’s sticky precum lubing the shaft up and turned the coarse friction from his rough calluses to silky moisture that sent him into convulsions of pleasure. Avery had been craving a hand on his cock since this began, but he leaned on the mop with both of his own hands, making it impossible to touch himself.
One of the reasons Sergeant Powers gave handjobs was that it distracted his bottom and made his ass loosen up some. That worked on Avery too, who groaned and moaned as Powers’s cock drilled in and out, his ass now slack enough that Sergeant Powers could ram as hard as he wanted. Still Avery had to keep focus on the mop.
“Aaaah… Cadet, are you enjoying yourself?”
“Sir… Not as much as gravy on my french fries, sir!” Avery said through gritted teeth. He stuck his head in the air and howled, trying to muffle the sound at first, then he remembered the base was almost empty right now, so he could be as loud as he wanted.
Powers chuckled, making his dick pulsate in Avery’s sensitive ass. He could watch the pleasure wash over Avery’s body, making it ripple and stretch. Avery even lifted one of his feet off the ground like a dog until Sergeant Powers barked at him. “Why are you lifting your leg, cadet? Keep both feet on the floor!”
“Sir, yes, sir!” Avery said, gasping. His orgasm finally began, but was still inhibited by the tension of him nearly falling, trying to mop even as he got slammed in the ass and jacked off at the same time. “Sir… I’ve finished… mopping-” A moan escaped from his lips. “I’ve finished mopping this area, sir!”
“Well, then let’s mop over there,” Sergeant Powers said. He smirked as he took a step, forcing Avery to lift a foot again and take a single orgasm-inducing step. The motion sent a wave of blissful agony to wrack his body, and his knees buckled. Again, he almost fell to the floor. If Powers’s handjob wasn’t a little disrhythmic, unpracticed and callused, Avery would have already came all over his hand.
It took what felt like forever to move just a few yards, but then Avery began mopping the back area, near the toilets. His red face was tense, tears of sheer pleasure leaking down his cheeks as Sergeant Powers pounded into his prostate. Each thrust of his hips sent explosions of sensation through Avery’s body.
“Oh, god, shit, goddamn-” Avery’s voice broke, and he panted for air. His hands flailed, the mop toppling noisily to the ground.
Powers stopped ramming with his dick all the way in Avery’s ass, throbbing, feeling so thick inside him that Avery wondered if it was a fist. He lifted his head, leaning back until he felt that sweat-soaked tee shirt from Sergeant Powers’s morning run rubbing against Avery’s smooth back. “Cadet! Did you just address me without saying sir?!”
“Sir, yes, sir…” Avery moaned. For the first time since this had begun, he turned his head and looked at him. They both moved at once — so they both thought the other initiated it — and their kips interlocked. With Avery getting it up behind, his head craned to the side, it was a somewhat awkward kiss, but their tongues managed to collide within Avery’s mouth.
A burst of cum hit Avery’s insides, and he let out another moan, this one a blood-curdling, echoic moan that made the hairs on the back of Sergeant Powers’s head stand up. The sound reminded him that he was definitely with a man — as feminine as Avery was, that was a masculine wail — but it didn’t slow him down any, nor did the feel of sticky hot cum spreading over his fingers.
More juices sprayed out and onto the floor, while Powers filled Avery’s ass with a torrent of his white-hot cum. He held Avery tightly in place, letting his delicate lips lick on Powers’s tongue — not even really kissing anymore, just literally licking on it — as Avery writhed in his arms. Gobs of his cream coated Avery’s insides.
“Cadet-!” Powers tried to shout an order when Avery pulled away, but another wave of pleasure hit him, and his throaty voice broke. At the same moment, Powers shot another long flow of jizz, gallons of it, it felt like but probably wasn’t, Avery could feel the roping jets of jizz spurting into and leaking out of his ass. He exulted in the warmth seeping into his flesh, and he turned his head to the side so he could plunge his tongue back into Powers’s mouth.
The last few drops of Sergeant Powers’s cum drained into him, and still Powers didn’t let him go. Avery was still shooting a few last drops of his own climax onto the floor and the filthy water collected in the mop-bucket. Powers waited until he was done, Avery’s dick dangling limply in his grasp.
Then at last he let go and pulled out at the same time.
Avery would have slid to the ground, but Powers held him up, and then let him down gently on a bunk. Avery curled up, cum dripping out of his ass.
“Cadet! I’ll give you two minutes to rest, and then you had better get up and finish mopping!”
“Sir, yes, sir…” Avery said with a yawn. He stretched his legs. “Are you going to be around?”
Powers frowned. “No. I have things to do… Do you want to clean the showerhouse? You can watch me shower.”
“Yes!” Avery got up and giggled as the motion sent a fresh burst of pleasure from his still-sensitive ass. “I’d appreciate that very much,” he said with a salute. “Sir.”

The Marine Bottoms

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

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

The Terraformer

Madhu is part of a terraforming crew on an inhospitable planet, and his team includes one hunky handyman named Buck. He’s filthy, he’s strong, he’s crude and he’s ready to give Madhu a swing on his mechanically minded meat!

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His arms bulged from the too-small uniform shirt. He wore the uniform of a doctor even though he was not a doctor. Madhu couldn’t tear his eyes away from that bicep bulge above the caduceus patch. The green fabric of his right sleeve — the one Madhu could see most clearly from where he sat at his desk — was torn in parts, and there was a burgundy stain — dried blood from who knew what — up near the collar. Had his ear bled onto his shoulder? That’s kind of what it looked like, Madhu thought.
He turned his head back to the microscope just in time to avoid it being obvious that he was checking Buck out. Madhu sighed as he counted algae on the microscope slide.
“Hey, Buck, the O2 levels in the command hold are low!”
Buck grumbled. He yelled out of the lab, down the hall. “I know! I said that at breakfast!”
After a few moments, Commander Chumbers called out, “Well, can you fix it?”
“Yes!” Buck snarled. He ran his fingers through his hair, which was jet-black and greasy, flopping over itself as he tried to straighten it. It ran down to his shoulders, dense curls making it tangled since he didn’t shower often.
Madhu didn’t shower often either. That’s because water was at a premium still. They were able to give themselves sponge-baths from time to time, but not actual showers. Even the sponge-baths were strictly limited to avoid wasting water.
Soon, that problem should be fixed. Madhu was happy with the amount of algae he found in the microscope — they were colonizing the small amount of water that Commander Chumbers’s crew had managed to create. There were now a few ponds on the surface of Lannentia, with algae.
There were five species on the planet now, six if you counted humans. It had taken eight years to get to that point — Madhu had only been here for six months, but the terraforming colony had been around for seven and a half years by then — and would probably take another eight to be minimally inhabitable by humans with just a few adaptations. Terraforming tended to be like a snowball running down a hill: very slow at first, taking three years just to establish one kind of microscopic purple sulfur bacteria that made the whole planet smell like a turd, but then it would go quickly. This time next year Madhu hoped to be stocking the oceans with fish.
But his more immediate goal, the reason he had come to Lannentia, was to taste Buck’s dick.
“Zhing Chuen!” Buck snapped at himself. The screw he was trying to remove had become stripped. He glanced at Madhu to make sure he wasn’t offended by the neo-Chinese cursing. Madhu pretended not to notice.
Buck was the only non-scientist on the crew. He was the handyman, the “rank and file” — this organization divided its employees into “knowledge workers” and “rank and file”, but poor Buck was the only “rank and file” on the entire planet.
“Buck?” Commander Chumbers stuck his head in the lab.
“What?” Buck said with an angry snarl. Then he mumbled, “Sir?”
“Can you fix the O2 in the command hold-?”
“Yes! I’ll do it! Ya want this radiation shielding to work or not? That has gotta be mah first priority!” Buck said.
Commander Chumbers glared at him, while Buck strained to get a screw out. Chumbers was not used to this level of disrespect.
Buck’s arms gleamed with grease-stained sweat, and his biceps bulged and flexed as he worked. Madhu was hunched over the microscope, but when he looked up, he saw Buck’s ass because he was bent over, ass upraised and aimed towards Madhu’s head. He had a thick and juicy ass, and it made Madhu’s mouth water.
“Fine. Yes.” Commander Chumbers hesitated. It was obvious he was reluctant to scold Buck. He should have, he was commander, he was entitled to respect and obedience. But Buck was also right — the radiation shielding was mission-critical, while the command hold could deal with low oxygen levels for a little while. Buck could have said that in a respectful way but hadn’t.
Commander Chumbers turned to leave. He no doubt didn’t want to risk losing Buck, who, despite being the lowest-paid person here, had brought his own shuttle. He could leave anytime. That was, Madhu supposed, necessary for someone like Buck, who probably got fired without notice on many occasions.
Madhu got the feeling Buck left most of his past jobs when he lost his temper and punched his boss. He seemed like that type.
Once he was gone, Buck stood up and rushed the door like he was going to stab Commander Chumbers in the back with the screwdriver in his hand. “Fuckin’ asshole! Ming te tin!” He spat on the ground. Then he glanced at Madhu. “Sorry.” He snorted and grabbed his dick through his uniform overalls, which were tight on him — he had been too big for any of the uniform pieces on the planet, which was why he was dressed as a doctor (there had been a Migwadlian doctor here last year, and they tended to be very large, so the colony had plenty of large doctors’s uniforms).
“No worries,” Madhu said. He stood and stretched his legs. “Commander Chumbers is a fucking asshole.”
“Yeah.”
Madhu came closer to Buck, who furrowed his brow at him. The scientists were usually shy and intimidated by Buck, and Madhu was too, but Madhu was also aroused by his intense masculinity and his dominant attitude. Madhu was a great admirer of the male form. He smiled at Buck. “Do you need money, Buck?”
“What?” Buck stopped, arms upraised as he was about to screw in a new, non-stripped screw. He held the screwdriver up, so his armpits were bare, his big fleshy arms firmly flexing in front of Madhu’s face. The furry bush of his armpits was clearly visible, and the smell of his unwashed sweat filled Madhu’s nostrils.
“Do you need money? I have thirty-four credits burning a hole in my pocket,” Madhu said. He pulled the money out and counted it. “Oh, no, I apologize, I have thirty-five credits.” He paused to lick his teeth. “I’d be glad to hand them over if you let me do certain things.” He tried to insert a finger beneath Buck’s shirt-sleeve onto his biceps, but his arm was high in the air, and anyway it was squeezed into a too-tight sleeve, so there was no space for Madhu’s finger. He rubbed the part that was palpable through a tear in the fabric, which got Buck’s attention.
Buck’s eyes opened wide. “Oh… Well, shit…” Buck blushed and groaned. He laughed and blushed even harder. His muscles rippled beneath the too-tight doctor’s uniform. “Ah, damn… I mean, there ain’t no females around…”
“Well, there’s Leslie.”
He chuckled. “Yeah. Ain’t no females around.”
Madhu laughed with him, though that was mean — Leslie was a rather mannish woman who didn’t even have a pleasant personality to fall back on. Madhu liked her, but he wasn’t surprised that Buck didn’t.
Buck sighed and nodded. Madhu touched his dick through his overalls, and Buck snorted. He hadn’t expected it to happen right here. This was technically in public — no one would likely be here, and it was impossible to sneak up, but still, the micro lab was not a private place.
Buck rolled his eyes like this was yet another unpleasant duty as a handyman — Buck always played everything off like it was a big imposition — everything from addressing his Commander as sir to fixing the plumbing to sponge-bathing himself, he treated it all like he had better stuff to do. That made it easier to demand a high rate of pay, and as a handyman working in off-world locations like this uninhabitable planet (so far), Buck was always negotiating a higher rate of pay.
Pulling his pants down was k awkward since they fit so poorly. He had to shimmy them down, as they were taut against his thunderous thighs. Madhu helped to pull, and he was rewarded with a limp but huge cock flopping into his face when it was finally bared. His shaft was fat, jiggling as it swayed between his muscled thighs.
“Hmmm… Looks tasty,” Madhu said with a petite giggle of desire. He chased Buck’s cock with his tongue as it bounced around, Buck still shaking and struggling to get his overalls down and his shirt off. His muscles rippled.
He didn’t sponge-bathe as often as ships regulations commanded. To Buck, a sponge-bath felt too much like he was a child who had shat himself. Anyway, he didn’t see a need to impress anyone here — there were no women to speak of, and who cared if a bunch of men thought he stank? He did stink, but so did the other men here.
Not Madhu. Madhu smelled like a woman, moreso than Leslie even.
That was why Buck did not care that he smelled like engine grease and stale sweat and who knew what else. It wasn’t a foul smell, but it was intense and astringent, almost cloying, and it brought tears to Madhu’s eyes as he kissed Buck’s chest. He slurped up the sweat that made Buck’s body hair cling to his pecs. Buck eyed him warily — he had only agreed to be jerked off, and he didn’t want to be taken advantage of.
His pecs flexed, and Madhu sucked on each nipple. Sour smoggy oil coated his tongue because Buck had repaired the tao furnace earlier. Buck firmly pushed his head down.
“You said you wanted to jerk me off, not lick my fuckin’ chest,” Buck said with an annoyed growl. He didn’t force Madhu to stop, but he did hurry him along to his knees.
Madhu opened his mouth and swallowed that big greasy hog down. He let it fill his mouth and throb there, dry and soft at first. Buck frowned like he was about to demand more money to get hard — Madhu hadn’t said that was a condition of his offer, after all — but then his dick twitched and firmed up in Madhu’s mouth.
Buck’s frown turned into a surprised shake as a shiver of pleasure ran up his spine. Madhu smiled up at him, his fingers reaching up for those nipples, which remained hard, pecs bouncing beneath Madhu’s touch. Buck grunted.
He wasn’t expecting it to feel this good. Buck was usually disappointed by the mouths of men — it simply wasn’t as good as a blowjob from a woman. But Madhu seemed to be an expert, his mouth silky and warm, and it made Buck let out a moan as his cock rocketed to full erection.
His fingers ran through his mane of jet-black hair, and he grumbled like he was disappointed even though it was plainly obvious that this was the best dome he’d had in a long time — the look on his face was unbridled ecstasy. He groaned and gripped Madhu’s head.
He plowed in deeply, his reluctance gradually melting away. By the time he had his whole cock in, balls slapping against Madhu’s chin, Buck had lost most of his inhibitions. This wasn’t the first time he’d gotten jerked off by a man anyway — it was the first time he’d done it sober when he knew for absolutely certain that it was a man, but as far as he was concerned, if you hadn’t checked the DNA and/or if you were drunk, it didn’t count.
And in prison, it didn’t count in prison either. Or on a farm without women. Any place without women. Any place with fewer than ten women.
“Shit…” Buck definitely didn’t expect it to feel this good. He was only doing it for the money and to avoid awkward situations with Madhu in the future. But he found it more pleasurable than he thought possible, actually better than most any blowjob from any woman he had ever been with. He didn’t know how to take that. He didn’t want Madhu to know he felt that way, so he played it off like it was no big deal. “Damn, man, get deep on there, go’n… Shit… You ain’t best, you know, I’ve had females as good as you.”
Despite that, his words wavered, his voice broke and his knees weakened, and Madhu could tell Buck had rarely felt such unbridled pleasure. Women didn’t give blowjobs with as much enthusiasm as Madhu jacked off Buck’s cock with his mouth, swallowing every inch of that alpha male dickmeat.
A giggle escaped around Madhu’s lips, which were still stuck tightly around Buck’s shaft. Madhu knew perfectly well Buck was lying about how much he enjoyed this. For one thing, Madhu knew he handled dick good — legendarily good — and for a second thing, no one made a point of comparing him to a female unless they wanted to conceal the fact that Madhu was better than a woman.
Madhu didn’t mind. He wasn’t looking for credit, and he could already tell that Buck would gladly do this again whenever Madhu asked. Madhu probably didn’t even need to offer money next time.
Well, Buck would demand money, since he knew Madhu would give it. Madhu would have to pretend to be broke.
At last precum filled Madhu’s mouth, great gobs of it, so much that Madhu first wondered if Buck had blown his wad early. It flowed like milk into Madhu’s mouth, and it coated Madhu’s tongue with its intensely salty, bright flavor. Madhu guzzled down every drop, savoring its sweetness and letting it spill out onto his chin and cheeks.
“Hmmm… You taste good,” Madhu said. He kept his tongue out as he rubbed it up and down on Buck’s shaft, on the underside now, sort of licking, but using his head to move his tongue rather than moving his tongue itself. That sent sparks of pleasure through Buck’s body.
Buck’s eyes opened wide. No girl had ever let him treat her mouth like this. That’s because Buck was dirty and hairy and he usually had an excuse to skip showering — women did not like that. His balls were dark and heavy, low-hanging, begging for Madhu’s attention.
When Madhu’s tongue finally touched his ballsac, Buck moaned exquisitely. It felt good — he had asked girls to do it, but they never would, even if they said they would do it — once they saw how sweaty his balls got, they backed out.
Not Madhu. He loved his ballsacs as sweaty as possible. He loved getting his head real low and letting Buck dip his sac in Madhu’s open mouth. It was just a small piece of his body, but it felt like the whole thing, like the sweat that trickled past Madhu’s waiting lips contained Buck’s entire body in it.
“You wanna ram me?” Madhu asked, his mouth moist and gargly cuz it was full of Buck’s ballsac. He had to repeat it a couple times before lifting Buck’s balls out of his mouth so he could say it more clearly. Then he slurped up all the sweat off his wrinkled scrotum.
“Shit, yeah, c’mon, bend ovuh, baby,” Buck said, clucking his tongue and jumping into position. He bent Madhu over on all fours before stopping himself, as he remembered he was pretending to be reluctant. “I mean… Yeah…” His dick throbbed, precum leaking onto Madhu’s back. Buck hesitated, his body trying to gyrate while his mind slowed himself down. “Uh-huh.”
Madhu giggled. “It’s okay to want it, Buck, you don’t have to pretend. You must be so horny-“
“I’s waitin’ for a female,” Buck said. He blushed and wiped sweat off his face. It was hot in here, but that couldn’t be fixed until he had finished this repair job. His hairy body and head were so overheated he thought he might pass out.
But he wasn’t going to stop. There was something alluring about ramming in sauna-like heat like this, he thought, something aside from the sweat making effective lube. It made him feel like a beast, a feeling that was aided by Madhu’s willingness to let Buck come at him like an animal. No woman would ever want to do it, cuz it might mess up their hair and cuz they don’t wanna be around Buck when he was dripping in sweat.
That was not a problem for Madhu, who bent over and raised his ass so Buck could easily access it.
Buck raced to ram his dick in Madhu’s asshole, both because he was horny and because he thought he might lose his nerve and look weak if he hesitated. He growled and roared, stroking his dick just twice before sliding it into Madhu’s tight, unprepared asshole.
That caused an outpouring of pain, and Madhu howled. He made Buck slow down by reaching his hand behind himself and placing it on Buck’s hairy belly. Buck stopped, with just the first inch or so of his dick in Madhu’s ass. That was enough to cause a wave of both pleasure and pain to wrack Madhu’s body.
“Hmm, okay…” Madhu gritted his teeth. He took a deep breath and his ass slowly relaxed. Buck tried to drill into him as soon as he could, but Madhu stopped him again. “Gimme a sec… Damn, your cock is huge, man, you’re splittin’ me apart.” Madhu wrenched his head back — he exaggerated his pain a bit, since alpha men always liked that.
Buck clucked his tongue and massaged the small of Madhu’s back. He sounded sympathetic but still frustrated that he had to stop. When he sighed and rolled his eyes, his dick twitched and Madhu winced in pain. Buck held back a moan of pleasure.
“Sorry,” Buck said, his deep voice echoing in the low-ceilinged lab. He grinned despite his sullen apology. He had to hold back a laugh at the sight of Madhu writhing and relaxing. Then Buck sucked in his breath as Madhu nodded and spread his cheeks. “You okay?”
“Ram me, Buck! Ram me hard!” Madhu screamed, the pressure in his ass so intense he couldn’t help himself. He clawed at the ground beneath himself, and he squirmed so powerfully he knocked over the stool he had been sitting on just moments ago.
What’s going on? Buck? You okay?
“Ah, shit! Commander Chumbers!” Madhu said. He couldn’t quite bring himself to pull off Buck’s uncut cock, which throbbed all the way inside him, slowly rubbing as Buck began plowing back and forth harder and harder. “He’s coming!”
Buck chuckled throatily. “Let ‘im. He ain’t gonna fire me, can’t find a new handyman,” he said. “He won’t fire you either. He’s a goddamn pussy.”
Madhu nodded. He was too engrossed in the pleasure emanating from his ass to consider whether he agreed with Buck’s conclusion.
What was that? Buck! If you hurt that scientist, I’ll have you court-martialed!
“Fuckin’ fuck-ass jing ma shit!” Buck spat vituperatively without missing a beat as he rammed Madhu. “Why is he assumin’ I’m attackin’ you? You’re the one who shouted, he shouldn’t be makin’ assumptions! Maybe’s you’s assaultin’ me!”
“Uh-huh,” Madhu moaned. He lowered his head to the cool steel floor, which helped him savor the explosion of bliss deep in his ass. He had rarely taken it up the ass this good. Buck’s increasing anger and distraction was part of what made it feel so good — it meant he just plowed back and forth with abandon, without thinking about it, without even being aware of it. His dick rammed at every corner of Madhu’s asshole, which stretched and clenched as he accommodated it.
Buck squatted — simply because he thought that was the most intimidating posture, precisely because it was so awkward. It made his thugs ache almost immediately. But it did make his dick feel good. It gave him the perfect angle to plow in as he approached his orgasm, which he felt growing in his loins.
It probably would have taken longer for him to cum if he weren’t distracted by cursing at Commander Chumbers, whose heavy-booted feet were plainly audible heading this way. Chumbers climbed down the airshaft, which took a minute or two, before he arrived at the micro lab.
He flung the door open just as Madhu sprayed his own wad on the steel floor. Madhu howled and threw his head back, his face reddish and tense. Commander Chumbers’s middle-aged silver-bearded face looked on, in anger, then confusion, then dismay.
“What are you — ? What…?”
“Mind ya own goddamn business,” Buck said with a loud groan, sounding like his entire body was going to fall apart. Jizz flowed into Madhu’s ass. He grunted and growled once more, putting Madhu in a headlock as he rammed his dick all the way in and held it there.
Cum flowed into Madhu’s ass, a great river of it that just kept on going. It almost felt, Madhu thought — but didn’t really believe since it seemed impossible — that Buck kept fucking because he could tell it annoyed and disgusted Commander Chumbers.
“Ah…” Chumbers blushed and tried to avert his eyes, but he kept looking back at it. “Ah…” He was entranced by the sight of Buck’s greasy zheing-lein class body, all hair and muscle and meat, shimmering with sweat as he plowed into Madhu hard.
“Hell, yeah, boy, take it, take it deep, shit…” Buck moaned. He collapsed right onto Madhu’s back as though pinning him down.
Jet after jet of cum filled Madhu up, each drop sending his own orgasm to new heights. It was hot and creamy, sticky, seeping into Madhu’s flesh and dripping onto the puddle of fluids that had already collected on the steel floor.
“Shit…” Buck said with a loud sigh. He glanced up at Commander Chumbers, who frowned at him. His dick throbbed in Madhu’s ass, a few final drops of jizz leaking in. Buck grunted. “You ain’t sposedta watch ya employees naked, sir.”
“You’re not supposed to-!”
“Then fire me,” Buck said. He pulled his dick out and wiped it clean on Madhu’s ass. An intense sense of relief flooded Madhu’s body.
“We don’t hire the likes of you just so you can befowl our-“
Madhu giggled breathlessly, glancing up at Commander Chumbers. Madhu kneeled next to Buck and hugged his muscled torso tight. “Commander Chumbers, shut up.”
Buck laughed. “Yeah, man, shut up. We know you ain’t gonna fire no one on account of you got a deadline to meet. If you fire me, it’ll take you six months to get a new handyman in, and he won’t be any better than me — he’ll be worse, prolly, at fixin’ shit, but he’ll be the same as far as bein’ dirty and stinkin’ the place up and havin’ a big dingdong that scares you. Ain’t that-?”
“I’m not scared of your dick.”
“Then look at it.” Buck stood and crossed his arms over his chest. His massive dick dangled. His muscles all flexed. Commander Chumbers gritted his teeth and lowered his head.
He barely glanced at it before turning to Madhu. “What about you? I can get a new microbiologist in a heartbeat-“
“Then do it,” Madhu said. He shrugged and kept touching Buck’s chest until Buck gently but firmly shoved him away. Madhu smiled.
Buck waved his dick in Chumbers’s direction. “Go’n, sir, why don’t you go get my toolbox and bring it to the command hold. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
After a long pause, Commander Chumbers said, “Clean yourself up, Buck. You’re representing Tao Terraforming-“
“Ain’t no one here to represent to-!”
But Madhu just got dressed, ignoring the argument. It was obviously never going to end. Commander Chumbers really couldn’t afford to delay things — and there was a constant need for repairs here, so without a replacement, the entire place would shut down in days — but he wasn’t so much of a weakling as to ignore Buck’s insolence. Madhu wasn’t interested anymore.
He had gotten what he wanted.