The Parole Officer

Rob is on parole, which means obeying the legendary Mr. Gerald. He’s a stern, no-nonsense man who doesn’t mind cracking skulls and kicking ass… and he goes even further than that. But when Rob asks to receive one of Mr. Gerald’s harshest of punishments, they’re both in for a wild ride they didn’t expect!

Can Rob handle what Mr. Gerald is ready to dish out?

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Rob had six months of parole, and he was looking forward to it. He had been assigned to “Mr. Gerald”, an ex-drill sergeant. Rob had had to pull a few strings to make sure he was assigned to Mr. Gerald’s caseload. He sought that out because, according to street rumors, Mr. Gerald was known to force his parolees to jerk him off.
That was something Rob was down for indeed. Mr. Gerald was buff like a soldier but just craggy enough, like a stately butte. His nose was splatted like it had been broken many times or maybe just once but really badly. His skin was dark like new cast-iron, and his eyes were old like a wise turtle. He had a simmering grandness to him, like he thought he was more muscular than he was, he was actually kind of lanky.
He had a great mustache too. Rob was a sucker for a black guy with a mustache. He wanted to suck the hairs right off his upper lip. And he had big broad shoulders that shook as he filled out a form with Rob’s personal information on it.
“So you work as a writer? A freelance writer?”
“Yep.”
“That don’t sound like a real job. I want you to get a real job,” Mr. Gerald said.
“Yes, sir,” Rob said. He wasn’t going to do that, but he wanted to be agreeable. Rob’s family was very wealthy. He didn’t have to report that on his intake documents, so he didn’t mention that he was in no need of a job.
If he was going to get punished by Mr. Gerald, after all, he was going to need to fail at something.
“Do you have any skills?”
“Just-“
“Don’t say writin’, man.”
“Then no. Sir.”
“Alright, I can hook you up with a job at Taco Dell. I know the manager there. I like the way you called me sir without me…” He looked Rob up and down and sucked on his lower lip. The mustache on his upper lip quivered. “Without me makin’ a big deal out of it.”
Damn it. That was it, Rob thought. If Rob hadn’t called him sir, Mr. Gerald would have throated him down, he was sure of it. That was what the look on his face said. Damn it! He was looking for a reason to do it.
Black guys don’t call him sir, probably. That was why they said on the street that Mr. Gerald only or especially goes after black guys. He’ll nut on a nigga face, nine times outta ten. He don’t even wanchu to swallow. He wanna see you walk outta there with nut on yo’ face, telling him thank you the whole time. He like that. That’s what one of the hobos Rob jerked off last week told him. His name was Greenbelly, and Mr. Gerald was looking for him.
Rob wasn’t gonna snitch though, and anyway, he didn’t know where Greenbelly was. Or his real name for that matter.
“Oh, uh…” Rob blushed. He quaked. Had he gone through all this for nothing? He was entranced by Mr. Gerald’s big muscles, his biceps bulging from the rolled-up sleeve of his stained and faded button-down shirt. He wasn’t married, that was obvious. He didn’t wear cologne. His mustche was neat but his scruffy beard hairs were not thoroughly shaved, like he had done it without a mirror. His shirt had an old mustard stain on it. No wife would let him outta the house in that shirt.
Mr. Gerald wordlessly filled out his paperwork. “You do drugs?”
“No, sir.”
“You’re gonna do a piss test next time,” he said. He glanced up and made eye contact with Rob. “What? You look mad. What?”
“It’s just…” Rob took a deep breath. He decided to be blunt with him. “I heard a rumor about you, Mr. Gerald.”
“What? I don’t like rumormongering. I don’t condone it. A man should stand behind the shit he says,” Mr. Gerald said.
“I heard… you sometimes make guys jerk you off.”
Mr. Gerald glowered at him. His dark eyes were expressionless. “What? You insinuatin’ I force my parolees into somethin’?” He watched Rob pop one of his fingers into his mouth and sucked on it. “Mothahfuckah, you think I can’t get a woman? That is fucked up. That ain’t no kinda thing I would ever do,” Mr. Gerald said with a raspy frown and a wag of one callused finger. “And I resent you for bringin’ up that kinda scurrilous accusation.”
“Oh, I’m sorry-“
“That kind of b’avior would violate the Department of Corrections’s Pillars of Respect, and any nigga who know me knows that I am all about the Pillars of Respect. I know you haven’t yet watched the video about the Pillars of Respect, but when you do, you will unduhstand that they is at the heart of… you know, all the bullshit.” He sniffled as he lost his train of thought. “If you act propuh, I will let you skip the video.”
“I will do literally anything to skip that video,” Rob said.
“Shut yo’ lie-hole, Mistuh Winthrop. Ain’t not a soul make no kinda accusation of that sort. Sometimes motherfuckahs be beggin’ for a way to prove how much respect they got for me. Y’know… sometimes, motherfuckahs be thinkin’ callin’ me sir is the worst thing I could force ‘em to do… only the trick is, I can’t force ‘em to do that. I can’t pull no words outta someone’s mouth. So I gotta focus on gettin’ respect out of ‘em through some other means. Ya feel me?” He stood up and came closer to Rob. He grabbed him by the chin and played with his lower lip. “You wanna jerk me off?”
“Yes!” Rob immediately moved to grab for his crotch, but Mr. Gerald slapped his hand away.
“I ain’t say you could. I was just doin’ a survey, like for gauging general interest among the populace,” Mr. Gerald said. He pointed to a spot on the floor. “Get on yo’ knees.”
Rob did as he was told. His heart thumped. He was going to get to do this after all.
“You know our meetin’ is done, right? I ain’t keepin’ you here no more? I’d rather you leave, to be honest,” Mr. Gerald said. He unzipped his slacks and pulled out a massive cock with a big veiny shaft. When Rob went for it, Mr. Gerald slapped him. “I ain’t consent to you touchin’ it. I’m still makin’ sure you know I don’t like you, and I don’t want you touchin’ my dick. This ain’t how I get off. I ain’t like that. Strikes me as unbiblical,” he said. “That ain’t the parole department’s opinion, mind you, that’s a personal thought, and I gots a right to it.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I think this is a tool,” he said. He flopped his limp dick onto Rob’s face. Rob opened his mouth to lick, but Mr. Gerald slapped him again. “Get that tongue back in yo’ mouth, boy. This here is my tool, not yo’ lollipop. It’s a tool I use to insert respect back into mouthy motherfuckahs who lost they respect in some tragic accident. Ya feel me?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now, I am gonna ram you in the throat cuz you asked me nice and I like the way yo’ lips is all soft and shit,” he said. He rubbed Rob’s lips with one callused finger. “Don’t you dare be spreadin’ none of them falsities ‘bout how I make men jerk me off. I don’t do that. That’s contrary to Pillars Two, Four and arguably Five of the Pillars of Respect.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You seducin’ me right now. You turnin’ this office into a hostile work environment ‘gainst me, boy. I oughta cite you for that,” he said. He chuckled throatily as he spread Rob’s lips with his fingers and rubbed his limp dick over Rob’s gums and teeth.
He still wasn’t trying to get hard. His dick was just slightly firm, one stage up from jiggly. It flopped like a lively snake over Rob’s face, He chuckled. “Hmm-hmm…” He licked his teeth. He left his dick on Rob’s nose. “Lotta my men would be buckin’ right now. You submittin’ just right.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“You ramrod men?” He battered Rob’s face with his spongy dick. “You ever do it, you know, stick ya dick in a nigga? Or a Arab or whatever?”
Rob nodded. He straightened his posture. “Yeah, I-“
He slapped Rob across the face. “Not me, if that’s what you thinkin’. I was — how much is you into it? I was not asking ’bout me. You wanna ramrod a morbidly obese Arab man? He hairy as shit. Too fat to shower. Five hundred pounds. He bathes with a rag on a stick, sometimes, when I tell him to. I woulda done ramrod the ever-mighty fuck outta him cuz he bin breaking the rules, but I don’t wanna put my dick in him.”
“No, I don’t… I don’t wanna do that,” Rob said.
“Hmm-hmm.” He wrinkled his nose. “Can’t say I blame ya.”
“He sounds like he has a mental health problem-“
He slapped Rob again. “Don’chu think I know that? Mothahfuckah, you got a solution for it-?”
“No, I just-“
“Then shut the fuck up, don’t point out problems you don’t got a solution for,” Mr. Gerald said. He mollywopped Rob with his dick, which had grown even limper now, it was jiggly all the way. He snarled at Rob. “Pissy shithead.”
“Sorry, sir,” Rob said. He shrugged. “What’d he do?”
“Raped his aunt. She got that Down syndrome.”
“Oh. That’s bad. Shouldn’t do that.”
He slapped Rob again. “What’d I say ’bout pointin’ out problems you don’t got a solution for?”
“Sorry, sir,” Rob said again. He stuck his tongue out, and it got the underside of Mr. Gerald’s dick.
“Anyway, Mistuh Winthrop, you doin’ good. When one my men is actin’ insolent, suckin’ on his teeth like a nigga do, I make him sit here wit’ my dick on his face during my spiel. You wanna keep it there durin’ my spiel?”
“Yes, please.”
“A’ight.” He cleared his throat, which made his dick jiggle atop Rob’s face. “Well, first of all, you got any street names? I gotsta ask.”
“No, sir.”
“You gotsta report to me any nickname you evuh used.”
“Ever?” Rob chuckled, making the dickfat resting atop his fce jiggle. “Well, some friends used to call me Winclap, cuz… well, it’s a long story-“
“Do not tell me a long story, mothahfuckah.”
“Okay, uh… Some other friends used to call me Jaxwing, which was my D&D character, uh, R-Queen, Throat Queen, Neck, Other Rob — that was when I was in rehab, we weren’t allowed to use last names, for confidentiality. I think that’s it,” he said. “Oh! My brothers call me Babywrist.”
“Any those got gang connotations?” He looked down at Rob, then slapped him again with his dickmeat.
“No, sir.”
“Okay, well if I catch you usin’ any unapproved nicknames, I’m sendin’ you to the big house! For…” He looked at Rob’s file. “Six weeks.”
“Yes, sir.”
“If I catch you watchin’ any video pornography, I’m sendin’ you to the big house. That’s pervert shit, I don’t like that, that’s disrespectin’ women, I-“
“Yes, sir.”
“Shut up,” he said. He slapped Rob. “Don’t interrupt me.” He cleared his throat. “Stick out ya tongue.”
Rob did so. Mr. Gerald grunted, grabbed his tongue with two fingers and pulled it out so far it hurt. He rested his piss-slit on it. He waited to see if Rob would object or pull away or gag. He did not.
“Next. No catcallin’ at females, no gettin’ fresh wit’ a woman, and it’s up to the woman or me to decide what’s fresh. I don’t need yo’ input on freshness,” Mr. Gerald said. He wagged his finger at Rob, which made his dick jiggle clear off Rob’s face. Mr. Gerald put it back. “Next. You can’t be homeless. If you homeless, you stayin’ wit’ me, and I am ramroddin’ you e’ery chance I get.” He bristled. “Scratch that, you’d prolly enjoy it.”
Rob nodded without remove his tongue from Mr. Gerald’s dicktip.
“If you homeless, I’ll make you spend the night somewhere you don’t like. Where there’s no musical theater and no club music,” he said. He chuckled. “You is required to go to the religious institution of yo’ choosin’, and yes I is allowed to do that, if you atheist, you go to the humanist group at the university, okay, and just like hell it’s full of atheists and feminists, so it’ll be a preview of yo’ future,” he said. “This town gots churches, mosques, synagogues and some Hindu things and things that ain’t quite Hindu but I don’t get the difference. And a Buddhist thing. You pagan?”
Rob shook his head.
“Good. Which church you go to?”
“I don’t have a regular one, I, uh…”
“You go to First Grace from now on,” he said. “I know the pastor. I’ll be checkin’.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Hmm-hmmm…” He paused. “You Communist?”
“No, sir.”
“Good. You one them Satanists?”
“No, sir.”
“Good.” He slapped Rob. “I won’t be respectin’ no Satanism as a religion, and the Supreme Court can say that to my face!”
Rob chuckled cuz his words didn’t quite make sense, but he got the gist, and he settled down when Mr. Gerald glared at him like he better not point that out. Rob stuck his tongue back out onto Mr. Gerald’s piss-slit. His tongue was getting dry though. He chased the tip of Mr. Gerald’s dick til he saw that glare again, then he settled still.
“You may open yo’ mouth.”
Rob did so, as wide as he could, and he waited for Mr. Gerald to signal he could proceed. Rob then swallowed his dick down to the root. It was starting to get hard, that must be why he decided to move on, and in Rob’s mouth, it rapidly firmed up. He looked up at Mr. Gerald’s surprised face — he probably didn’t normally get dome from guys who could deep-throat like Rob.
Mr. Gerald held onto the back of Rob’s head and plowed into him, treating his mouth like it was a pussy. His balls slapped against Rob’s chin. He held onto Rob’s ears.
“You doin’ it good, boy, no gaggin’ at all. They comin’ out wit’ good white boys these days. It’s been awhile since I had a white boy who could take my dick this good. Try to swallow the whole thing, you feel me?”
He nodded, and Rob relaxed his throat. Mr. Gerald pinched his nose shut, which helped his throat open even wider, and he got more, more than half of his shaft, to squeeze down Rob’s throat. Rob choked. Mr. Gerald clucked his tongue.
“Nah. Stay like that.” He lightly slapped Rob’s cheek. Rob again bucked as his throat rebelled, and his eyes bugged out. Then at last Mr. Gerald pulled his dick out and let him take a breath.
“Thank you for lettin’ me breathe, sir,” Rob said, panting between words.
“Hmm-hmm…” Mr. Gerald said. “You wanna swallow my nut, or you want me to paint you white?”
“Swallow.”
“Good. I don’t like nuttin’ on a white man, cuz you can’t see it. If you was darkskin, I’d paint you white as pigeon shit,” he said, and he let out a bellowing cackle. He clapped his hands. His balls jiggled on Rob’s chin. “I’mma fuck yo’ mouf a little, like a pussy.”
Rob nodded.
“T’weren’t a question, and I don’t need feedback on it,” he said. He held onto Rob’s ears and rammed at his mouth, firm but not hard, more humping his tongue than “fucking” his throat. Rob grabbed his muscular thighs, but Mr. Gerald slapped his hands away. “Don’t touch me, freak.” He chuckled. “Oh, yeah, no beard. Don’t grow a beard. I won’t wanna use yo’ mouf if you got a beard.”
He reached behind himself on the desk, and he picked up his phone. He unlocked it, then scrutinized something he seemed to find annoying. He wrinkled his nose at it. Then he swiped to something else, and he showed Rob the screen.
“See? This is a website about female rugby,” he asid. “It’s not pornography.”
Rob nodded.
“Good. I ain’t bein’ hippocritical. Some niggas is makin’ ‘ccusations ’bout that,” he said. He seemed about to say something else, but he saw a rugby player he liked and his words melted into a low hum. His dick pulsated against Rob’s tongue. “Hmm-hmm… Lookit them thighs, nigga…”
Finally a burst of salty precum exploded in Rob’s sense. That must be one sexy female rugby player, Rob thought, because Mr. Gerald’s meat raced from mostly hard to spewing precum and throbbing mightily in about two seconds. He wondered what race the rugby player was. He wished he could ask without taking his mouth off Mr. Gerald’s cock.
“How nasty you get, boy?” he asked.
“Very.” Rob’s voice was muffled by a mouthful of prenut, which he neither swallowed nor spat out.
“Good. That was the right answer,” he said. He pulled his dick away, then he stood up off. He motioned to the desk. “You. Bend ovuh that.”
Rob raced to comply. He was about to drop his pants, then he realized Mr. Gerald didn’t tell him to do so, he so he stopped. Then he realized he’d enjoy the punishment for doing it anyway, so he did it anyway. His jeans plopped to the floor around his ankles, and he shimmied down his underwear. That bared his pale ass, which Mr. Gerald grumbled at.
“Hmm-hmmmm, I don’t appreciate too much eagerness, boy,” he said. “I ain’t say to take yo’ ass out.”
“Sorry, sir. You wanna spank me-?”
“What? No, I ain’t toleratin’ no kinda BDSM nonsense, boy, and that’s another thing that ain’t allowed, don’t go aftuh me with none that free association shit neither, I will wallop you, straight up wallop! No kinky shit. No leather, no whips, no chains, I don’t care how consentin’ it is, no way,” he said. “No feet!”
“No feet?”
“In sex. You can keep yo’ feet for walkin’ on,” he said.
“Okay then,” Rob said. He looked behind himself, but he couldn’t see Mr. Gerald.
“Don’t worry ’bout me, you keep lookin’ that way,” he said. “You see that clipboard on the desk?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Grab it. Fill it out. That’s yo’ form 10G, you best respect it.”
“Oh, I do.”
“The state mandates you fill that you e’ery week. Actually it mandates I fill it out, but I am not fillin’ it out, you bitch-ass punk, you is doin’ it,” he said. He punched Rob in the meat of his asscheek. It hurt much worse than Rob was expecting, and he yelped. Mr. Gerald barked. “I said fill it out!”
Rob raced to do so. At the bottom was where Mr. Gerald was supposed to fill in the answers to the standard parole questions. There were two additional pages of follow-ups. It included everything from “how many lawfully registered firearms are in the place where you live?” to “do you know of the whereabouts of any of the Missing or Endangered Indigenous Women of the Dangerously Ignored Serial Killer Murder Epidemic of the Western States?”.
“What’s with this murdered indigenous women thing?”
“You murder any indigenous women?”
“No.”
“Then just write down no.”
“You have to ask me that every week?”
“Yep. So, y’know, keep track.”
“Also, I haven’t asked any of my acquaintances if they’ve violated the Somali Warlords Act of 2003,” Rob said. “It’s entirely possible I know lots of Somali warlords.”
“You know any Somalis?”
“I don’t judge people by the color of their skin. Anybody can be a Somali warlord.”
“Just put no!” Mr. Gerald said with a snarl. He was deeply engrossed in the rugby women on his phone, and it sounded to Rob like he had gotten distracted watching video clips from an actual women’s rugby game. “Them Polynesian girls is hefty. You know ’bout them?”
“Yeah,” Rob said. “I’ve been to Samoa. It’s nice, the women are huge.”
“Really? You know any Samoan women in the US?” Mr. Gerald asked. He stabbed his hardon between Rob’s asscheeks, and he leaned in, pushing it at his butthole. “Don’t lie to me.”
“I do not, sorry,” Rob said.
“Lookit them thighs, damn…” Mr. Gerald showed Rob the phone but the glare made it impossible to see. “She could squeeze the nigga outta me. Make me white as you, shit!” Rob didn’t care. He opened his asshole the best he could, practically sucking Mr. Gerald’s dick in.
A surge of both pain and pleasure hit Rob, and Mr. Gerald grunted. He dropped his phone, which landed on the small of Rob’s back. Mr. Gerald grunted again. Rob put down the clipboard.
“You finished that form 10G?”
“No.”
“Boy, if you don’t finish it, I will slap the senseless outta you,” Mr. Gerald said. He thrust his hips, forcing more of his dick into Rob. He began gently sliding his cock out but firmly ramming it back in, each time upping the pleasure like a ratchet where it boiled within Rob. Rob clutched the desk underneath him, and he knocked the pen he had been using onto the floor.
He grabbed another pen. He groaned. The sensations emanating from his ass were enormous, and Mr. Gerald’s pounding was relentless. He looked at the last question. “What are my aspirations for the week?”
“That’s right.” Mr. Gerald said. His voice wavered with each thrust of his hips. “Hmmm… hmm…” He tried to play it cool, but his voice broke and he let out a little moan, which he stifled. “Aspiration means goal.”
“Yes, I get it, I just… My aspiration is to take your nut in whatever hole you want it,” Rob said, panting, writhing, wanting to be for more.
“Hmm-hmmm… That’s a very good answer. It’s a wrong answer, but it’s the best wrong answer,” Mr. Gerald said. “The right answer is to stay outta trouble, worship Christ and obey yo’ boss, landlord, pastor and officers of the law. Spelling does not count.”
Rob struggled to write all that while Mr. Gerald pounded at his sensitive ass. Bliss exploded with each pump of his hips, and the entire hugeness of his shaft went in each time. Rob suspected few of Mr. Gerald’s parolees took the whole dick up their ass. It was actually quite difficult to force a man to take a big dick in a hole that both doesn’t want it and is too small for it, and probably it was more effective as a deterrent than a punishment. Rob, however, was eager to be punished, not deterred.
All at once, Mr. Gerald stopped. “Oh, you goin’ to First Grace from now on. In the basement of that church, boy, there’s a man, his name is Cassius, he’s an old retired boxer. He kinda retarded. If you tell him you’s me, he’ll believe you and bend ovuh, you can ram him all night long if you want. I did. Trained him good too,” he said. “He’s kinda old, but his ass is still tight. You’ll like him. He’s bettuh than that fatass Arab fellah.” He clucked his tongue. “I dunno what to do about him.”
“I’ll check out Cassius,” Rob said through his gasps of pleasure.
“You gonna do ass-to-mouth?”
“Yes, sir, please!”
“That wasn’t a question.” He grunted.
It sure sounded like a question, but Rob didn’t say so, as a burst of relief made him moan out loud. Mr. Gerald pulled his dick out. It felt so good Rob’s knees went weak. Then Mr. Gerald shoved him to the ground.
He rammed his cocktip back into Rob’s mouth, and the grimy flavor of Rob’s own ass filled his senses. Rob cried out around the dick in his mouth. He couldn’t help but grab his own cock and stroked it, instantly triggering his own orgasm.
Jizz spurted onto Rob’s chest and some onto Mr. Gerald’s legs. He didn’t notice because he closed his eyes as he humped his giant ass-coated cock on every inch of Rob’s tongue, then plowed down his throat like before. He again pinched Rob’s nostrils shut so he could go all the way down.
“Alright boy, no spillin’ my nut, that ain’t respectful,” he said. “Violates Pillar Two.” Then he chuckled. “What am I sayin’? I ain’t gotta tell you not to spill. I bet you love swallowin’ nut.” His chuckling broke as he orgasmed. “Hnnnn-hmmmmm….” His whole body undulated, and he closed his eyes.
He slammed his dick all the way in. Rob could feel him orgasm in the throbbing of the vein on his dick, which pulsated against Rob’s tongue. But Mr. Gerald’s dick was so deep in his throat that Rob didn’t taste the actual cum at first, just the precum that already coated his shaft.
“Hmmm… boy, you drainin’ me, that’s good…” His voice was low and rumbly like velvet sandpaper, and he bucked his hips, making sweet love to Rob’s throat. He gripped his hair tightly, rubbing his crotch and balls all over Rob’s face.
Finally, he pulled out, and the taste of salty-sweet cum assaulted Rob’s senses. He moaned and swallowed every drop, even as his belly contorted and his lungs cried out for oxygen. He slathered Mr. Gerald’s dick with spit and cum as he let it slowly plop out.
“Goddamn, boy.” Mr. Gerald said with a chuckle.
Rob gasped for air. “Hmmm… You taste so good… I love your dick, Mr. Gerald, I-“
“Hush. I don’t need you to talk,” Mr. Gerald said. The mustache on his upper lip quivered. He sighed and leaned back. “Shit…”
“Hmmm…” Rob smacked his lips and wiped his face off. the smell of jizz and ass coated his mug. “I didn’t spill any, I promise.” He quickly put his own clothes back on. It was always best, he thought, to leave them wanting more, so he intended to leave right away.
Mr. Gerald nodded. “Hey, boy.”
“Yes, sir?” Rob headed for the door.
“I take back what I said about my dick not bein’ your personal lollipop. You can come back and mouth me off whenever you want,” he said. He handed his business card over, with his home address written on it. “Okay?”
“Yes, sir!”

The Drifter

Rob has paid off a child support beef for the legendary drifter and hobo Tommy Weathers, and for that, Rob is ready to taste his filthy, raunchy meat. Is Tommy willing to give it up?

Read it now as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here

It took a long time after Rob paid off the child support for Tommy to be released. Rob’s heart skipped a beat at the sight of his latest lust striding cockily through the jail, his eyes darting suspiciously towards the uniformed cop who escorted him out.
“I thanks ya kindly, suh,” Tommy said when he was in the waiting area and his handcuffs were unlocked. “You a real prince among men.”
The situation was awkward, the waiting area clogged with dour-looking girlfriends, mothers and lawyers, all of them pretending they weren’t eavesdropping. Tommy was oblivious though and shamelessly spoke loudly and at great length in front of them.
“Uh, yeah, no problem. You’re welcome,” Rob said.
Tommy’s deep voice boomed. He was tall and big-bodied by nature, but with the lean, ropy build of a drifter. He was white but with very sun-tanned skin, burnt and reburnt by his days of shirtless work. He was missing several teeth. His accent was so thick it reminded Rob of the incomprehensible hillbilly, Boomhauer, from King of the Hill. He talked incessantly too, as though he was required to verbalize every thought he had.
“I’m gonna pay you back, suh. Not in money, you know I ain’t got none of that, and if’n I did, I’d just spend it all on booze, ya hear. The ol’ Tommy, he would-a say he gonna pay you back in cold hard cash, ya hear, but he wouldn’t do it. Nosirree. He just use ya and abuse ya for as much as he can, then spend it all on fentunill, uh-huh, ya hear, son? I ain’t that kinda man no mo’, suh, and I thanks ya rightly for all that you done. I’s gonna tell ya upfront that if I gets any cash, I be buyin’ liquor wit’ it. Ain’t proud of it, ’s just my weakness, ya hear? God ain’t see fit to gimme the strength to resist sweet lady drink.”
He kept talking as they walked back to Rob’s car and drove away from the jail. Rob found his accent alluring, and his intense energy made Rob horny. He couldn’t focus on Tommy’s words because he was so aroused.
So far, Rob had only managed to jack Tommy off once when he was drunk. They met because Tommy was holding up a sign asking for money at a busy intersection — he had insisted even as he begged for handouts that he didn’t accept welfare (he offered to write down every person’s address and pay them back at some point in the future, but most people understandably declined). Rob had offered him thirty bucks to jack him off.
Tommy agreed without giving it a second thought and jumped into the passenger seat. Once he was there, however, he made a big show of this being contrary to his ideals as a Christian. Those ideals didn’t slow him down any, but he did make Rob buy him liquor first, and by the time he had his dick out in the shadowy corner of an All-Mart parking lot, Tommy had been piss-drunk.
His dick was thick and fleshy, nice and long, and it throbbed beneath Rob’s fingertips. Tommy had demonstrated its thickness by holding it next to his forearm — it was just a bit thicker than his cock. He cackled with pride.
“Mah friends always used to say I got color cock,” he grinned, showing off his gap-toothed jaw. “You know what that mean? I got dick like a color boy. Ain’t prejudice now, ya hear?”
“Uh-huh.”
He went on, talking about his lack of prejudice and, at the same time, all the groups of people he was prejudiced against: Filipinos, blacks, foreigners, electricians, feminists, Marylanders, Jews, Frenchmen, people named Bruce, Canadians, psychiatrists, people who eat smooth peanut butter, Texans, politicians, Mexicans and Mormons, among others. Even as his dick got hard in Rob’s hand and leaked precum into his fingers, Tommy didn’t stop talking.
“I used to fuck this color girl, she loved me somethin’ fierce. Ah, damn, she got this ass, man… It’s enough to make me unchristian, it rightly is, suh. I tell you one thing. Uh-huh.”
When he orgasmed, he shut up for about half a second, then let loose with a loud torrent of moaning. Even his moans had a redneck accent though, which made Rob giggle.
Sitting there in the car in the All-Mart parking lot, Rob had nearly busted his own load just from the sight of Tommy’s muscles writhing beneath his t-shirt, his scruffy chin and his unwashed hair shaking. He finally stopped talking for a few seconds, long enough to spray sweet, sunny-smelling semen all over Rob’s hand. It spurted over Tommy’s t-shirt too, soaking into it. That made Tommy drunkenly groan with disgust, but Rob had given him a new t-shirt. Tommy allowed him to keep the old one, which Rob had fallen asleep sniffing and licking.
So that had been how he met Tommy. He had paid Tommy thirty bucks and the bottle and said he could stay at Rob’s place. He slept on the couch. That first night, he had spent the whole thirty bucks on more booze. He said that it would last him a week, but he actually finished it in two days — he shared some with a couple of homeless men, but he drank most of it himself.
Since then Tommy had been out and about — “testifyin’ at ‘bout the Lord on heaven” — so Rob hadn’t had the chance to get at his dick again.
Until today.
Tommy had spent a day and a half in jail after being arrested for being drunk in public. It turned out he owed five hundred in child support, which Rob paid to get him out.
When they pulled into Rob’s house, Tommy cleared his throat. “Ya need any more work done, suh?”
Rob shook his head no. Tommy had refused to take charity, so he had done some work around the house in exchange for a couch to sleep on. But that work was all done.
“You gonna wanna jack me off, huh?”
“Yeah,” Rob said.
He sighed. “Fine. I knew it was gonna come to that. I don’t take charity, so I’ll do whatevuh it take,” he said.
“I might know someone who needs work done,” Rob said. “Why don’t I make some calls? I might be able to find you a job.”
“I’d be much obliged,” he said. He sniffed his pits. “I should go take a shower. I got jailstink in me.”
“No.” Rob blushed. “Wait. Lemme… y’know… first.”
“Oh, you like it stinky, huh?”
“The stinkier the better,” Rob said. He sent off a text message to a friend of his, asking about a job for Tommy. Then he dropped to his knees and massaged Tommy’s cock through his jeans. Tommy snorted and was silent for a moment — that was highly unusual for him, and it was enough to make Rob chuckle. He undid the fly and let Tommy’s cock flop out.
Rob opened his mouth and swallowed it down. That triggered Tommy to start talking again, but Rob ignored him. He focused on the taste of his meat; it was salty and musky, with a sun-drenched summery flavor that made Rob drool all over it.
“You really like jackin’ dick, huh? What’s up wit’ dat? Huh? Dick don’t taste good, I never put it in my mouth — no how, no way — but I knows dat, yessuh, you best believe it. That’s where piss come from, why don’t it just taste like piss?” He paused, his voice scrunched up as he pondered this conundrum. “Oh, but girls piss too. Pussy does piss I know dat, suh. But they’s cleaner. That’s the diff’rence. Tastes like piss, yessuh. I know dat.”
His dick got hard easily — Rob was glad to see he didn’t have whiskey dick, despite the bottle of whiskey he had drunk before getting arrested. It was massively thick, one of those rare cocks that Rob actually needed to struggle to deep-throat.
There were two reasons in Rob’s book to practice rough trade. Firstly, he just plain enjoyed it. Secondly, and even more important, Rob loved to humiliate his father. Dad was an upper-class elitist who hated the lower classes. He genuinely thought poor people shouldn’t be allowed to speak to the wealthy unless spoken to first.
So as Rob swallowed, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed Dad. As expected, it went straight to voice mail — Dad knew what it meant when Rob called him. Rob was fine with the voice mail, since Dad couldn’t hang it up. Rob left the phone recording while he moistly put his mouth on Tommy’s cock, whose incessant yammering in his Southern dialect would enrage Dad so much it made Rob smile.
“You got nice lips, damn, suh. I wasn’t expectin’ that, nosirree. I never do no pervy shit wit’ no male person befo’, nope, no, no, no, no way, and I will slap the bitch off anyone say different,” he said. “But I’s a Christian man, so I won’t do that. I don’t slap no one. I would though, I’d do it and get meself some fo’giveness later. I’s Christian fo’ real, suh. Don’t hit anyone who question me, not even men. Nope, that ain’t Christian. But don’t doubt that I ain’t nevuh do none of that pervuht shit befo’, or I will hit ya, and that’s a Christian promise.” He continued swearing that he both would definitely hit this hypothetical person and definitely would not, apparently having no realization that he was contradicting himself over and over. He peered down at his cock as it disappeared down Rob’s throat. He covered his eyes with one hand, peeking through his fingers before looking away again.
Rob loved hearing Tommy’s rumbling drawl, his gravelly voice filling the air with the words that dripped out of him like molasses. His cock dripped too, salty precum flowing down Rob’s throat. He gurgled on it, letting some leak out from his lips and down his chin.
The phone rang — not Rob’s personal phone, but his landline. Rob wasn’t going to answer until he saw he caller ID. It was a friend who owned a small bakery in town.
“I should take this,” Rob said. “It’s the guy I asked about giving you a job. I sent him a text. He called on the landline-“
“Hell yeah, answer that, suh, I rightly need dat, yeah,” he said. He wrinkled his nose as Rob lazily stroked his dick and answered the phone. He stared at the cock as he had to fight back the urge to start jacking on it again — he needed his mouth free to talk on the phone.
It turned out his friend did have a job available. He needed someone to re-tile his bathroom, and, when Rob asked, Tommy nodded as though he didn’t have experiencing tiling but was willing to pretend he did.
So Rob passed the phone over. Tommy took a deep breath before answering, and Rob couldn’t help but lick his dick. He didn’t put it in his mouth again while Tommy interviewed over the phone, he just licked and lightly stroked the shaft.
“Hello, suh. Yessuh, I swears, I do got experience. Yessuh, I ain’t gonna lie to ya, ain’t nevuh tiled a bathroom all by myself. But I done it. I know all ‘bout that, yessuh. And you can rest yerself unworried, suh, I’s a Christian man. I’s a God-fearin’ man, uh-huh.” His voice broke when a drop of precum leaked onto Rob’s tongue. “Yessuh. I got dat punc-tual-ity, yessuh, I always do. I do good work. I was raised propuh.”
His dick twitched in Rob’s mouth. Rob kissed the tip as loudly as he could, giggling when Tommy frowned at him. Rob licked up all the precum that dripped out of his dick.
“I only ask that ya treat me wit’ respect as well. I only ask fo’ you to treat me like a man, ya hear. I don’t like to hear no kinda disrespec’. Ya got me? Huh? I see, yeah. Yessuh,” he said. “I ain’t gonna lie to you, suh. I do gots a problem wit’ the drink, yeah. I’s man enough to admit dat. Uh-huh.”
Tommy used one hand to keep the phone on his ear, while his other hand grabbed Rob by the head. He bucked his hips one time, slamming his dick all the way into Rob’s throat. He listened intently to the phone as he did, like he didn’t even notice what his cock was doing. He smiled and stuck his tongue out when he was all the way in Rob’s gullet, and he moaned loudly.
Then he blushed and stammered into the phone. “Sorry, suh, I was, uh… I just stubbed my toe, so sorry,” he said. “I ain’t know ‘bout that, suh. It might not be the best way to go. I do drink me some ‘lcohol, that’s fo’ sho’. Uh-huh. I ain’t gonna lie to you, suh, I’s a Christian man, I do drink e’ry night. The Lord ain’t seen fit to take that burden from my back. I pray e’ry night, both befo’ and aftuh I get drunk, ya hear. I pray fo’ guidance, yessuh, and I pray for forgiveness.”
As Rob started to stroke Tommy’s cock in earnest again, he looked up at Tommy’s serious face. Tommy had one arm crossed over his flat belly, rubbing against the blond hairs there. Rob suckled loudly and moistly on his cockshaft, which throbbed and precummed down Rob’s throat.
“Alright, yessuh, thank you, thank you fo’ the oppo’tunity, yessuh, I do ‘ppreciate it, mighty fine,” Tommy said. Then he hung up the phone. He snorted. “He ain’t hire me.”
“Oh? What happened?”
“He say he gonna need me to do some drivin’. The tiles he wanna use is in some far-away warehouse or somethin’. He say he gonna make me take a breathalyzer first. He say insurance make him do it,” Tommy said. “I can’t get no kinda DUI no mo’, or I do some big-boy time in the slammer. That’s what my lawyer say last time. So I tell him, I tells ya friend, I tells him nah, I can’t lie. I gonna be drunk, at least at the legal limit from the night befo’. ‘nless you pick me up from jail like you done today, that’s ‘bout the only way I might be sober fo’ him. God ain’t seen fit to take the burden of drink off my back, ya hear.”
“Uh-huh. That’s too bad, I’m sorry to hear that,” Rob said. He was too horny to really care, though a part of him was annoyed that Tommy hadn’t even been willing to try to quit drinking for the job. Rob was also certain that his friend was making that up — he had no breathalyzer, he was just saying that to scare Tommy into admitting he would never show up sober.
“Hey, suh, I wanna-” Tommy said. He snorted and threw his head back to moan, biting his lip as he nearly orgasmed right then and there. He pulled his dick out and let it flop against Rob’s face. It smelled like hay and saliva and sweat, and it made Rob’s mind race as dizzying desire overwhelmed him. Tommy took a deep breath. “I’s in need, ya know that, ya hear. You seem like the kinda man who wanna help a Christian brotha out, and ya know I don’t take no kinda charity, no way. Huh-huh. I don’t do dat. I got some pride left in these old bones.”
“What do you want, Tommy?” Rob didn’t meant to be impatient, but he desperately wanted to get back to swallowing his dick.
“I want you to forgive me my debt fo’ that child support shit, and I need more. If you gimme ‘bout two hundred, I can buy enough liquor to last me for weeks and still have enough to pay child support fo’ this month, ya hear. That’ll keep me outta jail long enough to get a job.”
“A job that doesn’t expect you to come to work sober?” Rob asked. Tommy wrinkled his nose, and Rob smiled. He didn’t mean to be confrontational — he wasn’t Tommy’s social worker, after all.
“That’s fair, I say. I say that’s fair,” Tommy said. “But the Lord ain’t seen fit to tell me to quit drinkin’. The Lord ain’t say that yet. Maybe it’ll happen tomorrow. Maybe the day aftuh that, I dunno. The Lord works in mysterious ways, suh, as I’m sure you well know.”
“Uh-huh.” Rob inhaled deeply from the musky cock that rested and pulsated atop his face, as he looked up into Tommy’s ultra-serious mien.
“So I’s askin’ for two hundred, suh, but I wouldn’t be askin’ if I ain’t wanna earn it, like a real man. I dunno if you know this ‘bout me, but I don’t take charity. Nope, no way, no how,” he said, and even though he had told Rob that maybe a hundred times in the week or so they had known each other, he seemed to be genuinely unaware that he had said it before. He took a deep breath. “I’s willin’ to treat you in a most unchristian way, if that’s the way you want it.”
Rob would have had no idea what that meant, but from the way Tommy raised his eyebrows and stroked his twitching cock, Rob guessed it was exactly what he wanted. He glanced over at the phone to be sure his father’s voicemail would pick up this conversation.
“You’ll stick it in my ass?”
Tommy blanched, frowned and chuckled nervously. “Damn, you really speak blunt, suh, but yeah, that’s what I’s sayin’.”
“Have you ever done it before?”
“Nossuh!” he said. Then he paused. “I been drinkin’ a lotta drink fo’ a long time, suh.” He put his hand over his heart. “I ain’t wanna lie to ya, suh. This man I know — Willie — he tells me one time that we get drunk together in a tramp camp out near the highway — not the highway here in Tuscaloosa, this was down in Florida — and we get so drunk, me and Willie, we get so drunk we can’t even stand, I swear to God. I wasn’t composed-mentis — that’s a legal term, ya hear — and I ain’t even remembuh it the next day. But Willie, he a color boy, not that I’s prejudice, but he say the next day, he say that we was real drunk and I was attemptin’ at his asshole all night. Color boys say dat, yessuh. But I wasn’t right in the mind then, and I don’t rightly remembuh it. I punched that Willie in the face and I ain’t even ask fo’giveness. He say we was drunk and messin’ each other off — color boys call that ‘sixty-ninin’’, yessuh, and then he say he stick me in the asshole, and I say no way, no how, I don’t do that, nossuh. I don’t let no white man in my ass, and I don’t let no color man in there neither. I ain’t prejudice. He say we both do it, but I punch him in the face.” Tommy laughed. “He punch me back, but we make up and get to smokin’ some ice togethuh, all forgotten. We was both smokin’ that crystal meth-am-phetamine then. I quit that now, by the grace of God, thank you, suh.”
As he told that long story, Rob got into position. He bent over on all fours, above his own cell phone so he could be sure his father would listen to every moist sound and intense moan. He slathered lube all over his ass.
It was only as he finished his story, talking about smoking meth and over-enunciating the word methamphetamine, that Tommy got in position to enter Rob’s ass. He kneeled and got behind Rob, who cringed as soon as he felt that thick prick at the entrance to his ass.
Tommy grabbed Rob’s hair, which was just long enough that he could grip it. He screwed up his face like a mean thug for a moment, and he slapped Rob’s asscheek.
“I ain’t gonna stick ya real mean-like. Ya reckon it’s okay if I hold onto yer hair, suh?”
“That’s fine.”
“I just likes to hold on, like for somethin’ to grip. Plus I can pull on it just a bit, make ya tighten up some. Ya just gotta tell me to stop or slow down,” Tommy said, sounding like he really hoped Rob would make him stop.
But Rob didn’t. He was so horny he backed his ass up while Tommy was still talking, so in the end, Tommy didn’t penetrate Rob — instead Rob penetrated himself with Tommy’s dick.
He threw his head back and moaned as Tommy’s cock hit his prostate, inch after inch of it squeezing into his ass. Rob had rarely accepted such a thick slab of meat, so he struggled to take in the whole thing.
“Oh god! It’s so big!” Rob knew that men like Tommy pounded better if their ego was stroked, so Rob kept shouting about how huge Tommy’s cock was. Sure enough, that made Tommy grin like an ape and bristle with pride.
“Here we go, suh, I do hope this is worth it,” Tommy said. He groaned and grunted as he forced the last few inches of his dick in.
They were both motionless for a moment. Rob shivered as he struggled to adjust to the cock in his ass and the wave of pleasure enveloping him. Tommy looked down at his dick disappearing in Rob’s ass as though he had no idea how it had gotten there. He chuckled to himself and was again struck silent for a few seconds. Though Tommy’s accent had turned him on, Rob was glad to have a few moments to think as his prostate came alive.
Then at last Tommy began pounding away at Rob’s ass. He pulled gently on Rob’s hair to keep his head up, even as Tommy pushed down on Rob’s upper back. He placed Rob’s shoulders on the floor, his ass in the air and his head upraised just enough that he could see.
“Damn, suh, from behind you look a lot like a girl,” Tommy said. “A girl who got a real athletic back, that’s nice. A li’l hairy, but hey, I know I ain’t no prize. I met girls a lot hairier than you and I ain’t kick ‘em out of bed. Or outta the tent I be sleepin’ in, or whatevuh. I don’t fuck wit’ prostitutes, mind you suh.” He groaned again and slammed his dick in so hard his balls slapped against Rob’s thigh.
“Uh-huh.” Rob reached behind himself and massaged Tommy’s balls. It wasn’t clear Tommy even realized he was doing it — Tommy’s mind was fixated on the pleasure and the horror of his dick in a man’s asshole. Rob’s fingers slipped behind Tommy’s balls, rubbing that sensitive spot where his sac met his taint. The thick nest of blond hairs there was choked with dried-on sweat.
Tommy stopped moving. He coughed. “Ah, damn, does this make me a rentboy, suh?”
“Uh… No, you’re just…” Rob winced. It was hard to concentrate on speaking with such a huge cock throbbing inside his ass. It was right on his prostate, sending jolts of bliss through his body. “You’re just givin’ me a lesson on masculinity. I’m small and weak-“
Tommy chortled. He mulled around the word masculinity in his mouth and repeated it, dick twitching inside Rob’s twisting body. “Muscle-innity? Wuzzat?”
“It’s, a, uh… bein’ a man” Rob said.
“Well hooty toot, ain’t that right. I ain’t no pervuht, just doin’ what I gotta do to make some scratch. Wish I could tell my sister that and have her get impressed. She called me a failure and a loser, can you believe that? She accuse me of stealin’ cash from her when I was sleepin’ on her couch,” Tommy said. He started moving his hips again, rubbing his dick on every surface of Rob’s guts. Tommy moaned and bit his lip. “I did steal cash from her, mind you. I done sought forgiveness fo’ it already,” he said. “But she ain’t know I done it. She ain’t have no kinda clues ‘bout that. She just ‘ssumed. To me, that ain’t right. She my sister. She should gimme the benefit of the doubt. Ya hear me, suh?”
“Yeah. Uh-huh.”
He chuckled dryly. “I can tell you want me to blow my load. You like, uh, nut, huh, suh?” He shuddered as though that thought was unspeakably disgusting.
“Yeah. Stick it in me,” Rob said, still too distracted by his ass to speak normally, so his voice was wrenched by moans.
“Now when I fuck a girl in the ass, she nevuh want me to fill her up inside. Huh? You want me to pull out? I like to fill her up, cuz that’s in the Bible,” Tommy said. “Spillin’ yer seed is bad, I know that. I hears this preacher say it one time.”
“Yeah. Just cum inside me, okay,” Rob said. He rolled his eyes while he shot his own load into his hand. Some of it even landed on the phone on the floor, which still whirred as it recorded Tommy’s voice and the sound of Rob’s orgasm. Rob smiled — his father was going to hate this. Tommy’s earnest nature, his Christianity, his dirtiness, his redneck accent, he was everything Rob’s dad despised.
“Yessuh, I am glad you say dat,” he said. He spat into the palm of his hand and used that as additional lube. He groaned and slammed his dick in. He pulled it all the way out and did so again, grunting each time, as Rob bit his own lip, the waves of pleasure overwhelming him with each thrust of Tommy’s cock.
Rob could feel his orgasm approach. He writhed, his sensitive ass tingling so intensely Rob could do nothing but bury his face in his own arms. But that didn’t last long because Tommy pulled on his hair as he climaxed.
“Aw, fuck yeah…” He spoke softly for once, and he paused, allowing a moment of delectable silence to fill the room. “Gonna shoot so much you ain’t nevuh stop drippin’, suh… Got a ‘nfinite ‘mount of cum to fill ya up wit’, suh. I always shoots some big loads, like a color boy. I ain’t color, mind ya, and I ain’t prejudice.”
A big jet of creamy cum hit Rob’s prostate, reawakening his own orgasm. Rob twisted and contorted, but Tommy kept a tight grip on his hair.
Then Tommy collapsed his body onto Rob’s back. That pinned Rob down as Tommy gyrated his hips, shooting wad after wad of hot cum inside his ass. It was thicker than most cum, or so Rob thought he sensed as it trickled into his body. He could feel it sticking to his innards, soaking into him, its heat seeping into his flesh.
Rob moaned, but the sound was overpowered by Tommy’s own moan. Tommy’s ropy, dusty, sunburnt muscles flexed where they pressed against Rob’s bare back, and Rob moaned beneath his grasp.
“Ya feel me fillin’ you up, suh? That how you like it? Huh? Girls don’t like that, or some of them do but I think they just prostitutes and sluts, that’s what they is. They usually make me pull out, shoot all over the floor, but I don’t like dat, nossuh. I like-” he paused and his voice broke as he moaned again, another few drops of cum dripping into Rob’s ass. “I likes this, yessuh. I do this fo’ two hundred anytime, yessuh, that’s fo’ sho’. Ain’t Christian to do it, ain’t propuhly Christian, but that’s why the Cath-olics invented forgiveness, yessuh.”
At last they were both done. Rob didn’t know how long he laid there. It felt like eons. All he could focus on was the feel of Tommy’s muscles writhing above his back, his cum trickling into his ass and his breath condensing on Rob’s neck.
“Alright, suh, that okay?”
“Yeah, Tommy, you can get off me now,” Rob said, breathless and strained.
“Yessuh,” he pulled off. He wrinkled his face at sight of his cum-coated cock, dripping with santorum and goop. He laughed at himself. “Well, shit, I wasn’t sure I could do it, but I did it. Yessuh, I did.”
“Yeah. That was good, Tommy,” Rob said. He took a deep breath.
Tommy crossed his arms over his wiry chest and shot Rob a suspicious look. “You ain’t gonna stiff me, right? Two hundred. That’s what you said.” He thought for a moment. “You pretty rich, right?”
“Well, not exactly,” Rob said. His own cock was rock-hard, even though he had cum a couple minutes ago. That’s because the stink of Tommy’s hobo armpits filled the room, and Rob kept playing with Tommy’s rubbery soft cock and wiry muscles. “But I do okay. You said you’ve been in prison before, right? Not just jail-“
“Ayyuh, yessuh, I been gone to lockup buncha times, big-boy prison too, a year and a half once, back befo’ I was a God-fearin’ man,” he said. “That’s how I seen pervuhsion befo’, I know how bad that taste, so I bet — I ain’t taste it, mind you, I know from rep’tation. I hold my own in prison.” He looked away.
“So you’ve never tasted cock?”
“Nosuh, nosuh, nosuh,” he said. “And I nevuh would, nevuh. I tol’ this one color fella he best shank me, cuz no how no way, uh-huh, I ain’t puttin’ his nasty old thing in my mouth.”
“Oh, okay,” Rob said. He had hoped maybe there was a chance he could get his dick in Tommy’s mouth, but he knew that was always a longshot, so he just shrugged.
But Rob saw a hesitant look on Tommy’s face. Rob said, “Four hundred.”
“Eight. I don’t taste no color fella prick, nosuh.”
Rob nodded. “Fine,” he said. His heart pounded. Was he really about to get his dick wet in this redneck?
Tommy got on his knees, weary look on his face, his mouth already puckering. He looked at Rob’s dick and wrinkled his nose. “I nevuh done it — I love me some drugs, you see, but I tol’ that color fella I ain’t tastin’ no hog fo’ it,” he said. “Tastin’ like shit anyhows, on ‘ccount of he always stickin’ his homeboys in the butthole.” He picked up Rob’s dick with two fingers and winced. He opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out. Just before it touched Rob’s dick, he closed his mouth again. “You ain’t gonna stiff me, right?”
“Swear to God,” Rob said.
Tommy closed his eyes. “Man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do, you feel me?”
Rob nodded. “No judgement, it’s-” He gasped as his cock slid into Tommy’s mouth. Tommy immediately deep-throated him most of the way down, but as soon as Rob’s cock touched the back of his tongue, Tommy violently retched.
Tommy sat back and closed his mouth like he thought he might vomit. He paused. “First taste is always the nastiest,” he said as though that was a cliche he’d said before. “I-” His face turned pale and he snapped his mouth shut. He got up and hurried the best he could with his pants around his ankles. He went to the bathroom and bent over the toilet, retching into it. “Sorry, suh, sorry, I’s tryin’ — first taste is always the worst, makes ya puke, but I’ll get-” He retched again. “I’ll get through it, swear to God.”
Rob came into the bathroom then. Tommy was bent over the toilet dry-heaving and spitting. His pants were still down so his asshole was bare, wrinkled, pale as could be but studded with off-blond hairs, especially running up his asscrack. Rob came up behind Tommy and thwacked his cock against Tommy’s asscrack.
“Don’chu even try and stick it in my hole,” Tommy said. He turned back around, leaning his back against the toilet. He eyed Rob’s cock with disdain.
“I wasn’t tryin’ to stick it in, just playin’,” Rob said. He slowly got closer, expecting Tommy to open his mouth. But he didn’t. Rob got closer and closer, until his dick touched Tommy’s lip. He didn’t react.
Then he opened his mouth a crack. Rob slid his dick in. Again, Tommy gagged, but not as violently, and Rob was able to keep his dick in there.
Tommy kept his mouth opened wide and his tongue low, minimizing the amount of Rob’s dick that touched his tongue. His chapped lip rubbed against it.
“Oh god, yeah…” Rob moaned loudly. He grabbed Tommy by the ears and pushed his dick in as a sudden orgasm overwhelmed him. The change in angle meant his cock rubbed thoroughly against Tommy’s tongue, and he gagged once more.
“No wai-sshh, I cauuhn’t-” Tommy tried to pull off Rob’s dick, but he was pinned with the toilet behind him, and Rob had a grip on both ears. He let go to hold onto Tommy by the mullet on the back of his head. His hairy was dusty and coarse, and he let out a furious stomach-churning retch as Rob’s dick slid all the way into Tommy’s throat.
“Sorry, just a sec, just a second,” Rob said softly, his face turning red. A jet of cum hit the back of Tommy’s throat, dripping straight down his gullet.
This time when Tommy gagged as the second cumwad hit him, he spat up all the cum he had swallowed so far. His whole body writhed as a big ball of spit and semen slipped out onto Rob’s cock. Tommy finally managed to get himself off Rob’s dick.
“Nasssshuh-” Tommy tried to hold back a vomit, but he couldn’t. He twisted sideways so he could vomit into the toilet bowl. His stomach was empty because he had thrown up before, then spat up Rob’s first cumwad. Rob wasn’t done cumming though. His third spurt of cum landed on the strap of Tommy’s wifebeater on his shoulder.
Then Rob moved to the side of the toilet, so he could jam his dick back into Tommy’s mouth, as Tommy let out a hoarse breath and spat again. Tommy didn’t see it coming, so Rob managed to get his fourth and final cumwad into Tommy’s mouth.
“Sorry, sorry,” Rob said. He thought he shouldn’t have to apologize, since he was paying good money for this, but he figured apologizing would make Tommy more likely to come back. “I’m all done.”
Despite being done, Rob didn’t stop moving his limpening dick in and out of Tommy’s mouth. Tommy was hunched over the toilet, letting fluids drip from his mouth into the bowl. Finally he took Rob’s dick in two fingers and held him back. He closed his mouth, spit again and took a deep breath.
“Alright, alright, you got’cha money’s worth. Damn, that’s the dickens! Still, you ain’t taste as bad as that color fella,” he said. “Or so I hears.” He stood up and pulled his pants up.
“I’ll get you your money. I’ll have to write a check, I don’t have that much cash. What kinda fee will you pay at the check-cashing place.”
“Like five percent plus, uh…” His voice trailed off. “Hundred bucks. Five percent plus a hundred bucks.”
That was clearly a lie, he was exaggerating the cost. But Rob didn’t care. Money was no object to him. He wrote out a check for two hundred dollars, which would more than cover any check-cashing fee. He didn’t get up, his body still too weak and basking in the afterglow of his orgasm. He passed the check over to Tommy.
“Thank ya, suh,” Tommy said. He stood, stretched his knees and wiped his cock off with a napkin. “I thanks ya mightily. I’m just gonna go cash this check, yessuh. I got big plans fo’ it. Gonna buy just a little liquor. Enough to get me drunk fo’ a couple nights. Gonna make this money last, yessuh.”
“And child support,” Rob said weakly while Tommy got dressed. “Don’t forget, you want to be able to pay your child support for a couple months. Or else you’ll just get arrested again.”
Tommy paused for a long time. It was clear he had no intention of paying his child support. He stared at the check for a long time. He smiled at Rob. “Yessuh, ‘course. Thanks a lot fo’ ya help, suh. I swear, I be back. I am gonna turn my life around, yessuh.”
“Okay, see ya, Tommy,” Rob said.
As the door slammed shut behind Tommy, Rob knew that was it, he was not going to see Tommy again. All of that money would be spent on booze, and it would all be gone in a week or two. Tommy was a drifter, and it was time for him to drift away.