sharing a bed – Mansploitation

The Married Cop

When Avery is robbed, he meets up with a cop with a wife and a physique Avery could… and just might worship for days! Officer Heartley is a bull-headed macho cop who needs to get a little relief, and Avery is all too happy to help out!

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Avery was furious about his hotel room being robbed. It was only eighty dollars, but still — having security to prevent this sort of thing was exactly why Avery was loyal to the chain. He had explained this to the manager in no uncertain terms, and he had gotten a refund as well as a free day in the room. That was worth more than what he had lost.
There was nothing to do now, however, but wait and pace. The police were on their way, supposedly. Avery knew the police wouldn’t do anything for eighty dollars, but he wanted to make his statement. This was an annoying distraction when he was trying to be more productive in his life. He wanted to hurry up and file his complaint so he could get back to work.
When the cops arrived, however, Avery was at a loss for words. His blood ran hot and his cock twitched in his pants, his annoyance at the robbery having vanished. One of the officers was a skinny young woman, but the other was a sturdy older man. He was Officer Malcolm Heartley, and he had a square jaw like a superhero.
“Sorry to hear about ya troubles, sir,” Officer Heartley said with the most delightfully full-bodied voice, all baritone echoes emanating from beneath his scruffy throat, a somewhat awkward tremble to it — he was one of those delightfully strong men who weren’t swaggerous and cocky. Avery thought a note of unconfidence made him even more handsome. “So you sure there ain’t nothin’ else missin’?”
“Yeah, that’s it, thanks,” Avery said. He blushed a little because he could feel Officer Heartley looking at him. He wished he could come up with a reason to make Officer Heartley stay.
“Alright, thank you for callin’ it in,” Officer Heartley said. Avery could tell by the look on his face that he didn’t think they would find the money. The woman cop said they would keep looking for the culprit, but Avery didn’t find her very convincing. It was only eighty dollars, after all, Avery thought, surely there were more important crimes in this city.
“Thank you for your help, officer,” Avery said. He clasped Officer Heartley’s well-muscled arm in hand. He shook the woman’s hand too, but he was so blinded by Officer Heartley’s strength and the body heat radiating off him that he shook her hand in an automaton trance.
And that was that, Avery’s distemper was gone, and the hotel-room robbery seemed like a memory from his distant past. Avery loved older men with fantastic physiques, and Officer Heartley was a perfect one. He was dark-skinned, thick and jowly, but not fat, just muscle and meat all over, you could tell he was used to home-cooked meals in a warm home. His face had a few wrinkles under the eyes, and his beard hairs were flecked with gray.
“We’ll call you if we learn anything,” said the perky blonde cop. She was hot too, beautiful really, Avery thought, but he had no interest in her. She was lost in the alluring aura emanating from Officer Heartley.
But he couldn’t stick around. The florist trade-show was over. It was time to go back home. He checked out of his room.
He sat down in the hotel lounge to work on the novel he had promised himself he’d finish a rough draft of on this trip. It took a few hours to get his focus back. He took several breaks, and drank a ton of coffee in a coffeeshop next to the hotel.
He finally got a little writing done around eight o’clock, and he went down to the hotel bar to celebrate afterwards. He was just about to sit when he realized he shouldn’t reward the hotel for letting someone steal from his room. He should go to a different bar.
He had no sooner walked outside, however, when he saw a police car pull into the parking lot. It was Officer Heartley, and he rolled down his window. “Hey, there you are. We caught the guy who had your cash, we can give it back if you come with me. You gotta fill out some forms.”
Avery got in. “Really? You caught him?”
“Yeah, I’m as surprised as you. But he hit a couple hotels in the area, apparently he hacked a swipe card that works in any of them. One of the hotels caught him on camera,” Officer Heartley said as he drove away and Avery buckled his seat-belt.
“Where’s your partner?”
“Oh, we’re off now. She’s out with her hot new boyfriend.”
“Oh, you’re off-duty?! That’s so sweet of you to come get me!” Avery said.
“Well, you know… I don’t like out-of-towners gettin’ the wrong impression ‘bout my town,” Officer Heartley said. “You single?”
“Yes I am,” Avery said. He cleared his throat. “What about you?” He made sure to speak in a slow, seductive tone. Officer Heartley had to know what that meant.
“I’m separated. My wife left me.”
“Oh you poor baby, it must have been a long time since you’ve been with a woman,” Avery said. He patted Officer Heartley’s well-muscled forearm.
He nodded.
“Well you know, I have a magical power,” Avery said. “I can make guys forget about their wives. Who’s got a mouth, an ass and a need to please? This guy!” Avery pointed to himself.
“That’s… I don’t do that, no thank you, sir,” Officer Heartley said, but with a nervous tremble to his voice. Avery could tell he wanted to do it. He was responding to Avery’s flirtatious tone. But a lot of guys did that because they liked the attention, it didn’t mean they were interested. Especially once they were married, many guys were desperate for someone to call them handsome.
“Hmm… That’s unfortunate. Tell your wife I’m going to steal every inch of her husband.”
After a long pause, Officer Heartley said, “I’m not going to tell her that.”
They pulled into the police station then. Avery went in with him, filled out the requisite paperwork and saw the skeezy-looking guy who had been caught. He was sitting there in a hallway in handcuffs. Avery didn’t know that’s who it was until Officer Heartley pointed him out.
When he had his eighty dollars back, Avery headed out to the parking lot. Officer Heartley brought him to the police car. Then he sat behind the steering wheel and didn’t say anything. It looked like he was waiting.
“Officer Heartley?” Avery wondered if he had done something wrong. “Hey, uh… are you okay? You don’t have to take me back to the hotel, I can afford a cab. Or an uber. Or I can walk, it’s like five blocks.”
“Shush…” Officer Heartley said with a desperate gulp. He opened the door for Avery to get in. “I ain’t pervy.”
A long pause ensued. Avery wanted to say fine, but he had just been shushed, so Avery didn’t say anything.
Finally Officer Heartley spoke again. “You, uh… My wife… My wife used to be so different, y’know. I don’t think I changed that much since we got married. We used to go out and she wanted to, y’know…” He glanced at Avery. “Like… she wanted to suck me off, y’know, in the bathroom.”
“What?”
He blushed. “No, I mean, she don’t have a bathroom-fetish, I just mean we’d go out somewhere and she’d wanna bang in like a closet or bathroom or something. She’d wanna suck my dick.” He paused. “But now, she just like… She don’t even wanna look at me. She got kinda fat and her hair is always a mess and she don’t shave her pussy no more, she barely even shaves her armpits, and if I mention it at all, she freaks out, but she is always calling me a fat-ass and when I fart she calls me a nasty shit.” Then he whispered hoarsely. “It makes me feel bad.”
“Oh, you poor baby…” Avery said. He patted Officer Heartley’s belly. He wasn’t fat, but he had a belly there. He looked like he probably had a six-pack back when he met his wife, so any amount of fat might have seemed like a beer-gut to her. Officer Heartley’s muscles rippled beneath his uniform shirt. “You can tell her how you feel. Tell her it hurts your feelings.”
He rolled his eyes. “I, y’know… I can’t say that.”
“You said it to me.”
“Yeah, but you’re… you know.”
“So you can tell a guy you barely know, but not your wife?”
He shrugged. “She won’t care. She’s…” He whispered again. “She’s such a bitch.”
“Do you want me to-?”
“Shush. Don’t say it,” he said. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the headrest of his squad car. It was parked in a row of other squad cars. No one was behind them, just a solid fence with barbed-wire atop it, so they couldn’t be surprised. In the main part of the parking lot, officers currently on-duty met with their partners and sipped coffee before getting in their own squad cars and driving off.
Officer Heartley unzipped his slacks and pulled his cock out. It was big and fleshy, and Avery thought you could tell just by looking at it that no one had been treating it right in a long time. He bet Officer Heartley’s wife even got mad if he jacked off to Internet porn, so Heartley was probably in a world of frustration.
Sure enough, it twitched as soon as Avery touched it. “Oh, it’s so big! Your wife must have loved taking it in her ass when you two were just dating!” Avery smiled at the frustrated look on Officer Heartley’s face. He suspected that, if he kept bringing up anal sex, Officer Heartley would be unable to resist. “I know I couldn’t resist begging for it in my tight asshole if we dating and I was a girl. I would crave this cock all up in me. What was her pussy like?”
His dick twitched beneath Avery’s fingers. Officer Heartley moaned. “Ah, shit, man, it was velvety and smooth and… damn, I want that again. Shit…”
Avery breathed heavily, and he tried to sound as girlish as he could. Officer Heartley’s eyes were closed, his great cavernous chest heaving as he breathed and Avery stroked his dick, slowly and unctuously at first, sliding his hand up and down. He paused to spit onto his palm, which made Heartley moan again when Avery resumed stroking.
“Were you a cop when you met her?”
He shook his head. “I wanted to be. I told her that on our first date,” he said. His voice sounded croaky and tense, his eyes still scrunched shut tightly. “But I was just a painter then.”
“Oh?!” Avery snaked his other hand into Officer Heartley’s pants, from which his cock stuck out through the fly. He handled his sweaty balls.
“Shit, man, that feels so good…” Officer Heartley said. He settled back in his seat like he was ready for this to last a long time.
“I know. I think you’re really handsome in that uniform. And I bet you’d be just as handsome in anything else,” Avery said. He unbuttoned the bottom of Officer Heartley’s uniform shirt, making his undershirt-clad belly visible. He bent over and kissed his belly, blowing a raspberry as though it was a baby’s hairy belly. Officer Heartley laughed and his dick twitched in Avery’s hand. “You’re so manly, your wife is stupid if she doesn’t suck you off all the time.”
Officer Heartley glanced at him, his eyes open now. He watched his cock pulsate, a few drops of precum leaking out and lubricated Avery’s fingers. “Man… I dunno.”
“Nothin’ wrong with men makin’ each other feel good. You just close your eyes and let me make you feel good. Is it okay if I put my mouth on it, sweetie?”
He grunted and gritted his teeth as though being called sweetie turned him on. He shook his head. “Wait… I mean…” His pecs bounced beneath his shirt. “I mean…”
Avery could tell he was wavering. Avery moaned right in his ear. “Oh, sweetie… Your dick needs to get wet, I can tell. It’s so dry. Your balls are so full they’re going to burst, you poor baby.” He unbuttoned his uniform shirt the rest of the way. “What if I just put the tip in my mouth? Okay? Just the tip? I won’t do nothin’ else until you tell me it’s okay.”
His voice was breathless and jagged. “Yeah. Just the tip, okay. Okay.” He put one meaty hand on the back of Avery’s head and guided him down to his cock. Avery opened up and put his cocktip on his tongue, then slurped exuberantly. He spat up plenty of spit that ran down Officer Heartley’s shaft and soaked his crotch.
Now that he was so close to Officer Heartley’s body, he could smell his unwashed clothes — was he in trouble with his wife? Staying in a motel? Possibly, Avery thought.
“Just the tip, okay?” Officer Heartley said, his voice a low throaty rumble.
Avery made eye contact with him, but Officer Heartley immediately closed his eyes. Flopping his hard dick over his face, Avery let out a long cooing moan and called Heartley his baby again. “My sweet little baby… Ooh… Your dick tastes like candy, baby, I wanna make love to your cock.”
“Just the tip.” His voice sounded like he wanted to be firm and confident, but it came out as weak and wavery.
“‘Course, baby, just the tip,” Avery said, trying to hide his disappointment. He used one hand to stroke his shaft, while he kept his mouth on just the tip, suckling loudly, moistly. He had to cram his head in between Officer Heartley’s massive body and the steering wheel.
“Hey! Alan! You in there?”
“I’ll go see, he probably knows where it is.”
Avery heard that, but he couldn’t see because his head was in Officer Heartley’s crotch — and he didn’t even know Heartley’s first name was ‘Alan’. He assumed it was other cops getting into a patrol car. But when he heard their voices getting closer, he lifted his head.
Luckily, the sun shined into the windshield; it would have been blinding, but these patrol cars had glare-canceling windshields. It did make it impossible for anyone outside to see into the car from this angle, however, which was good because Avery saw a pair of uniformed officers some thirty feet away. If it weren’t for that glare, they would have seen Officer Heartley leaning back and then seen Avery’s head pop up from his crotch.
“Shit! Someone’s coming,” Avery said.
Officer Heartley opened his eyes, roared in frustration and jumped into action. He forced Avery’s head back down where it couldn’t be seen, his hard dick still leaking precum onto Avery’s face. He turned the engine on and rammed the car into drive.
“Shit!” Officer Heartley grunted, his voice desperate and plaintive, dick leaking precum over Avery’s cheeks. He drove to the right — which was not the way out of the parking lot, but did mean the officers would be on the driver’s side, so they wouldn’t see Avery without coming very close to the car.
“Where are you going, Alan?”
“Hey, did you see that memo from the DA? We wanted to ask if you knew about the plea forms, how does that work? Sheila said she never heard of them.”
Officer Heartley’s face was ruddy. He rolled down his window and waved as though this was normal, and nothing was wrong. “Hey guys,” he said. His mind whirred, his cocktip now back in Avery’s mouth. “Uh… Yeah… Plea forms are the same thing as those D9s. Just tell Sheila that, you need D9s.”
The other two cops exchanged glances that were both confused and enlightened — that was a helpful answer to their question, they were simply confused because Officer Heartley had a tense, pained expression on his face. But they just assumed he wasn’t feeling well, or had gotten in a fight with his soon-to-be ex-wife on the phone — perhaps, they thought, that was why he had been sitting in his car in this parking lot for a long time.
They just watched the squad car drive all the way around the parking lot, finally leaving onto Poplar Avenue and nearly going the wrong way on it until Heartley realized what he was going. He drove south into downtown.
“You still got your hotel?”
“No, I checked out,” Avery said.
He barely even noticed his hand pressing down on Avery’s head. He didn’t really intend to get deep-throated. That was an uncomfortably pervy idea to him. But he had an instinctual urge to push Avery all the way down on his shaft, plus he wanted Avery to keep his head down. So he did it without thinking about it, without even noticing until he realized Avery’s nose was in his pubic hair.
“Oh god…” Officer Heartley moaned.
His cock tasted amazing: salty and warm and musky, Avery crooned and sucked it all down. He didn’t care about his own throat crying out for oxygen and relief. He wanted to taste Officer Heartley until he had had enough and couldn’t take it anymore.
He drove to the most rundown motel in the bad part of town, a motel that was well-known as the epicenter of the city’s red light district. That was where all the hos brought their johns. Officer Heartley felt disgusted with himself going there at all for non-law-enforcement purposes, but it was where he had driven without thinking about it.
“I’ll get us a room,” he said. He took a deep breath. His cock ached. He wanted to get go at it all night like his wife used to do. He wanted to have so many orgasms it made up for the years his wife had been ignoring him.
But first, he had to awkwardly put his dick back in his uniform slacks and get out of the patrol car. It must have been obvious he had an erection, and he was pretty sure there was even a wet spot on his crotch — he was too excited and exhilarated and mind-bogglingly horny to even look down.
He raced into the front lobby and virtually tossed some cash at the dour-faced man behind the counter. “I need a room!”
“How many hours? Officer?” the man asked. He looked at Officer Heartley as though he thought he was catching him doing something wrong. He probably assumed a cop would only be here because he was getting free services from a prostitute. But Officer Heartley was too horny to stop and explain that he was just jacking off.
“Uh…” He had no idea what was normal. “Overnight.”
“You’re thirty bucks short,” the man said.
Officer Heartley cursed and scowled and handed over his credit card. That hardon wasn’t going away, it just kept throbbing painfully in his clothes.
It took forever, but finally Heartley got his key. He darted out into the parking lot again, and motioned for Avery to come to him. They scampered to the room, Officer Heartley’s pants already coming off even before he opened the door.
He dove onto the bed on his belly — which caused intense pain in his still-erect cock — then he rolled over onto his back. In seconds, his dick was out the fly and in Avery’s mouth. He let out a long, low sigh.
It took a few seconds for either of them to notice that the door was still open. Avery had barely gotten the fresh taste of precum in his mouth before he got up to slam the door shut. He returned to swallowing Heartley’s shaft.
“Oh god, yes…” Officer Heartley held onto Avery by the back of his head, fucking his throat deeply.
It was all over in seconds now. Officer Heartley’s balls crawled up in his sac, and his veiny shaft pulsated in Avery’s throat. Hot, creamy cum coated his mouth and slicked down to his belly. It was thick and warm, and it sat hotly in his stomach.
He tasted salty and sour and a bit sweet, with a strongly musky taste that Avery adored. There were flavors of steel and copper and unwashed fabric, cocoa butter and cheap deodorant. Avery guzzled down every drop, smiling at the sight of Officer Heartley writhing violently beneath him.
Then at last he pulled off, grinning at Officer Heartley’s shocked expression. “That was not just the tip,” Avery said coyly. He stroked his limp dick.
“Yeah, well… I changed my mind.” Officer Heartley groaned. “I paid for this room all night and I busted a nut in about five seconds.”
Avery giggled. “You didn’t think this was all over already, did you? I’m going to stroke your dick until it falls off. And then I’ll find another penis to attach, and I’ll stroke on that till it falls off.” He playfully groped Officer Heartley’s chest beneath his uniform shirt.
“You got spare penises?” He chuckled dryly. He was about to speak again, when there was a loud moan in the hotel room next door.
They both blushed and smiled. This motel rented rooms by the hour to prostitutes, and it seemed there was one such transaction going on right next-door. Officer Heartley sighed and stood up. The moaning from next-door was not too loud — they could only hear the man, whose deep voice was easily audible. Avery could hear a woman’s practiced heavy breathing only when he pressed his ears against the wall.
He yelped and stepped away when a woman let out a little yelp. “I said not to pull my hair,” she said. “Quit it, get off me.” There was a loud thump, it sounded like she had pushed the man off her and he fell off the bed.
“You bitch! I paid for an hour, you best believe I am getting all sixty minutes! I swear I’ll call Bernard-“
“He says no one can pull my hair, not for no amount of money, cuz my hair could fall out-“
“I wasn’t gonna pull ya hair out, you fuckin’ cunt! I just needed somethin’ to grab onto. Ya tiny-ass titties ain’t enough-“
“Oh, you’re complainin’ ‘bout my size? I thought you stuck your nipple in my pussy until I opened my eyes!”
Avery listened to the argument with wide eyes and baited breath. Should he call the police? He realized he didn’t need to just as Officer Heartley was redoing his belt and running out the door. “Stay here,” Heartley said.
Avery didn’t want to get in the way, so he followed orders. He stayed with his ear to the wall so he could hear. Both the man and Officer Heartley shouted at once, as Officer Heartley pounded on the door. Then when it was opened, there was more shouting, with the woman joining in this time.
“Shut the fuck up! You don’t know what was going on here!”
“I do know! I could hear every word-“
“Oh? What were you doing in this place? Huh?”
“Not any bit of your business, motherfucker, it was totally legal,” Officer Heartley said.
Avery poked his head out the door and was shocked to see that the man being led away in cuffs was another cop. Officer Heartley had arrested a state trooper. The woman in the hotel room glanced at Avery without noticing him.
Then Avery just sat and waited in the hotel room. He was glad to have the chance to recover. After a few minutes, he went over and talked to the prostitute. He helped her fix her hair and makeup. She said she didn’t want to file any report about the cop who had attacked her, but Avery talked her into doing it. Some other officers arrived then — Heartley had shown up at the police station, his uniform shirt still unbuttoned and askew, his hair a mess, so he had endured great ribbing and later got written up for dress code violations.
He told them about the state policeman, so others came out take a statement from the prostitute.
Finally the door opened, and Officer Heartley returned to the hotel room. He had fixed his uniform and his hair only to realize he had waited until too late — by the time he came out of the station men’s room looking like a professional, he was no longer needed. He was off-duty again. So he had gotten scrubbed up just to come back to Avery.
“Goddamn,” Officer Heartley said when he saw Avery sitting there on the bed. Avery immediately dropped to his knees and grabbed for Heartley’s crotch as though he was in desperate need for more cock. He didn’t even let him drop his pants, he just undid the fly and started slurping on it until Officer Heartley made him stop long enough to take his pants off.
“Do you wanna stick me in the ass?” Avery asked. He shook his ass towards Officer Heartley. “Please? I want to feel your cock inside me… You can ramrod me so hard, harder than your wife ever let you, I bet. I’ll never make you stop. And you can cum inside me, okay? You can drown me in cum…”
“Shit, boy, don’t talk like that, you’re gonna make me nut…” Officer Heartley closed his eyes again. He stood there, impatiently waiting as Avery took his pants off.
Then, at last, Avery got to back up on his dick. Like a lot of guys, Officer Heartley didn’t really know how to plow a man in the ass, so Avery had to take charge. Heartley just stood there by the bed while Avery lifted his ass up.
He ground his ass against Officer Heartley’s cock, letting it rub against his asshole. He clenched his hole too, making Heartley grunt and writhe. Avery reached behind himself and guided it into his ass.
“Oh, god, it’s so big!” Avery exclaimed. That was not a lie — it was big — but Avery only said it to puff up Officer Heartley’s ego. Besides that, he knew the position he wanted and it might take some effort to talk him into it. “Oh… I don’t know if I can do this,” Avery said.
“You said you could take it no matter what-“
“I didn’t know it was gonna be so big… You’re gonna ruin my ass, it’ll feel so good I never wanna do it again,” Avery said with a plaintive wail. “Hmm… Here, give me your arm.” He backed himself up farther, making Officer Heartley’s whole body shake as his dick sank deeper onto Avery’s ass. Avery took Officer Heartley’s well-muscled arm and wrapped it around himself, in a loose chokehold. That both provided more support and allowed Avery to lick and kiss every inch of Officer Heartley’s arm. “There you go, you’re so strong… I’m sure I can take your dick as long as I feel your strong arms around me, sweetie. That way I’ll know you’re keeping me safe.”
“Hmmm…” Officer Heartley grunted and bucked. His voice broke in Avery’s ear.
Avery loved getting plowed by older men like him. Officer Heartley was so handsome and macho and desperately horny. He craved affection — his wife was mean to him, and his fellow officers always gave him shit, and the civilians he interacted with almost universally hated him — so when Avery moaned and begged for more cock, that was nearly enough to make him cum all by itself.
“Oh god, get it deep in me!” Avery cried out. He wondered if there was anyone else in the motel who could hear that. That made him giggle, burying himself back on Officer Heartley’s cock.
He was all the way in now. Officer Heartley’s ex-wife had never taken it in the ass like this. She’d let him put it in her butt when they were dating, but only a few times, and only until it started to hurt — with a cock like that, it hurt right away. So he’d never had anal sex to completion, never got his entire shaft in her ass.
But Avery took it easily, with just a bit of struggle. Avery exaggerated it over and over to puff up Heartley’s ego. “It’s so big!” He even bit down on Heartley’s forearm, prompting a grunt from Officer Heartley’s lips.
Then they both went down to the bed, Avery squashed by Heartley’s massive bear-like body. Heartley finally began plowing without Avery needing to take charge. He pounded away, sticking his entire foot-long dick in, then pulling out and marveling at Avery’s asshole twinkling, begging for more.
“I’m gonna nut…” He grunted right into Avery’s ear. His wife used to like it when he said that. It was enough to trigger her orgasm, as it triggered Avery’s right now. But now she thought it was gross when he said it, or when he said anything else during sex, or anything at all about sex any other time.
Cum flowed into Avery’s ass. Even though he had already shot his wad once, he shot a huge load again — he must have had a lot built-up in his balls, Avery thought. It dripped out Avery’s ass and onto the motel mattress.
Finally he was done. Avery pulled off him. He had shot his own wad onto the mattress too, and it was now soaked.
Avery wrapped one arm around Officer Heartley’s meaty belly. “We made a big mess, and we’ve still got all night.”
Officer Heartley kissed him chastely on the cheek. “I’ll rent another room, baby. You’re worth it.”
Avery sighed and kissed each of Officer Heartley’s hairy asscheeks. “Let’s make this one filthier first.”

Reacharound From an Aryan

Zach had to join an Aryan gang in prison, and now that he’s released, his only option is to move in with his hulking gangmate Tower. But it turns out sharing a bed with someone like Tower can result in a touch-filled night of man-on-man action! Can Zach succeed in satisfying Tower’s needs?

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

When Zach Waters joined the Aryan Way in prison, he was surprised at how low-key it was. Aryan prison gangs in the movies were always full of muscular skinheads bristling with tattoos and machismo, always on the verge of beating someone to death, so he assumed that was an accurate depiction of them.
But they were very relaxed. They encouraged him to shave his head and get tattoos but didn’t require it. He thought they might make him do something terrible like kill someone. But they never required anything from him except a few minor chores, mainly acting as a lookout while they ran a craps game. Zach got through his nine month sentence without any traumatic experiences. The worst thing was that he was responsible for losing a volleyball game against a mafia gang, and all of his fellow Aryans were given one free punch to punish Zach for his error. They mostly held back their punches, so it hurt, but it wasn’t agonizing and he didn’t have to go to the infirmary afterwards.
Zach had been so focused on getting through prison without being stabbed that he gave very little thought to what he’d do on the outside. That meant that when he was finally released, he needed to make a plan in a hurry.
And the easiest plan was to move in with Tower — Leopold Sales was his real name. Tower had been one of the Aryan Way’s main commanders behind bars. He was big and muscular, a porcelain-skinned marble-hard giant of a man with a carved body and crude Nazi tattoos covering his flesh. He had been released the same day as Zach. They were the only two white inmates to walk out of the state prison that day.
“You wanna stay with me?” Tower asked on the bus as they rode away from the prison. Zach had come to trust Tower well enough, so he said yes. He’d lived in the same cell block as Tower for nine months in prison. It seemed like no big deal to move in with him on the outside too.
It was only at that point, when Zach moved in, that he was required to shave his head and get an iron cross tattoo on his back. Tower said that he needed to adopt the uniform of his new tribe, and Zach had felt like an Aryan skinhead for so long that he didn’t complain.
He simply submitted that night to Tower shaving his head and drawing the iron cross to be tattooed at a later date. Only one tattoo shop in town would do white supremacist tattoos, so they had to wait for an opening. Zach was glad because he was in no hurry to get any tattoos, much less a nazi one.
“We’s skinmates now, brothah,” Tower said when he was done. He had a rough, ragged voice with an oddly black accent.
Before night fell, Zach’s sensitive skin tingled on his now-bare scalp. His head was so cold he shivered even in the warm night air.
He kept rubbing his bare head as he tried to sleep. When Tower had offered him a place to stay, Zach assumed he’d be sleeping on a couch somewhere. But Tower had a “safehouse” set up — it was just a ramshackle old shotgun-house outside of the city, with little furniture and not even a working refrigerator (there was a broken one, which kept cold things cold for awhile just because it was so well-insulated). The walls were stained with who-knew-what fluids. It looked like a crackhouse or an abandoned meth lab, but Zach didn’t want to ask what it was.
But Zach didn’t have a lot of choices, so he settled in and allowed Tower to shave his head. Then Tower presented him with drawings of several iron cross designs to choose from when he got an appointment with the tattooist.
The most pressing problem, however, was not the tattoo. The most worrisome factor was that there was just one bed. It was a double-sized mattress laying on the floor, no sheets or bedspread, just one ratty old blanket.
Zach had assumed he was going to sleep on the floor, and Tower would take the bed, but when Tower decreed it lights-out at nine o’clock, Tower motioned for him to get on the mattress. Zach did so, wincing and shrinking back as Tower brushed his teeth and showered.
And then Tower joined him on the busted old mattress.
“You scared of me or what?” Tower asked when Zach scooted away from. The thickness and firmness of Tower’s body made him seem so huge next to him.
“No, I mean… I trust you. It’s just…” Zach gulped.
“Then shut the fuck up. We been showerin’ togethuh for months, Zachary,” Tower said. He wrapped one powerful arm around Zach’s body, meaning Zach got a faceful of his armpit hair. Zach hated the name Zachary, but Tower had been calling him that since they left prison. “Don’t tell me you gettin’ squeamish now.”
“No.”
“Good. It’s a war, y’know, even out here. You probly just thought the Aryan Way was about prison, but that ain’t right. The war extends everywhere. We gotta fight, man, we gotta keep the struggle going. That means we spend our time and money winning, not buying extra beds or worrying about touching each other’s cocks,” Tower said.
“Oh. Okay. That, uh, makes sense,” Zach said. He never bought into any of that stuff about race war. He didn’t want a race war. He had only joined the Aryan Way for protection in prison and, now, outside of it.
“You know, in prison, we gotta protect ourselves from deviance,” Tower said. “That’s why we don’t allow nobody in if they get penetrated by a colored man.”
“Yeah.”
“But that ain’t a problem out here, where we don’t gotta get involved in no colored man,” Tower said. He lay on his side now, so close Zach could feel his body heat and his breath condensing on Zach’s cheek. The warmth of his heft cock was palpable too.
“Oh. Yeah.”
“Out here, we see women all the time, don’t we? You saw that slut walking down the street earlier, right?”
“Yeah.” Zach felt nervous, and excited, about where this was going. Tower had pointed out the girl a few hours before. She was stunningly gorgeous, dressed like a cheap whore. She was Latina, and Tower had spewed out a litany of abuse, which she luckily was too far away to hear.
“So we get tempted a lot, right? But we can’t be distracted by females. It’s their virtue we fight this war for,” he said. “Fine white European virtue. Hmm-hmm.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Now that we ain’t in prison, Zachary, we ain’t gotta worry about the feds. But we do gotta worry about females distractin’ us from what’s proper.”
“Okay.”
“So how you wanna do that?”
Zach squirmed as Tower placed one meaty hand on Zach’s chest. He just rested it there at first, then slowly rubbed the smooth flesh. Zach shook with anxiety, dick throbbing as he realized what was happening. Zach murmured, “What, uh… what do you mean?”
“I mean, Zachary, that I want to get my nut off tonight,” Tower said. “Don’t worry, I won’t ramrod ya. I ain’t ramrod ya in prison, did I? I coulda. I ain’t want to, cuz I knew you would say no and I’d hafta force it. But out here, if you let me in that ass, I’ll give you a reacharound and won’t nobody be around to know you did it.” His hand crept under that blanket and grabbed Zachary’s dick. It was felt small to Zachary, but that didn’t slow Tower down at all. He gave its limp shaft a few strokes. “Sssh, Zachary… Relax, okay?”
“Well…” Zach sucked in his breath
“It’s okay. I won’t tell no one. Everyone in the Aryan Way does this, y’know,” he said. “It ain’t a big deal. I won’t bring it up ever again.”
“I mean… I guess so,” Zach said, his heart thumping.
“Oh, thank you, my man, this means a lot to me,” Tower said. He leaned down and kissed Zach on the cheek, much to Zach’s shock. Then before Zach could even respond to that, Tower straddled his chest. Tower was a good foot and a half taller than Zach and at least a hundred pounds heavier — a hundred pounds of solid muscle, shaved smooth and inked with amateur prison tattoos.
He had on a disintegrating pair of cheap, gauzy prison underwear, which he dropped as soon as his crotch was in front of Zach’s face. He had a massive cock — Zach had noticed that in the prison shower — which he flopped between his fingers. He wiped it across Zach’s lips and laughed at Zach’s gagging.
When Zach opened his mouth, Tower shoved it right in. It was already growing hard, as Tower’s prison-starved horniness took over. It tasted like sweat, Zach thought. Tower’s cock was salty and sour, and it brought tears to Zach’s eyes. He gagged to cover up a moan when that fat manhood pushed into the back of his throat.
Tower let out a chest-rattling moan, a sound midway between a grunt and a roar, but low and rumbling. The sound itself made Zach gag again because he could not only hear it in his ears, he could feel it in the throbbing of the cockmeat in his mouth. He was surprised to find his own cock had swelled to full erection.
“Oh damn, you’s a good skinmate, man,” Tower said. He sounded genuinely grateful. His massive pecs flexed. “Sssh, sssh, skinmate. That’s what we call Aryan brothers who spent time in prison together. Skinmate. You’re my skinmate, Zachary,” he said over and over, as though Zach was trying to say anything, or could have with Tower’s cock overflowing from his mouth.
Tower grabbed one of Zach’s hands and brought it up to Tower’s chest. He was a truly massive man, broad as a motorcycle, and each of his pecs felt like an overinflated basketball beneath his tight skin. He placed Zach’s hand on his nipple.
That seemed like too much, Zach thought — was he expected to play with Tower’s nipples? Surely Tower wouldn’t allow that. But then, he thought, Tower had kissed him on the face. Indeed, Tower had Zach play with his nipple, which grew hard beneath his grasp. Zach had never felt such a solid breast, with all the hardness of prison-sculpted muscle rather than the meaty goodness of a female tit.
Tower groaned again as he leaned forward. He grabbed the wall behind the mattress for support, and he began humping his hips forward. He throated Zach like that for what felt like an eternity.
The sour flavor of precum assaulted Zach’s senses. He guzzled it down and sputtered as Tower worked his dick deeper and deeper with every thrust of his hips.
“Yeah, you’s a good soldier in the race war, Zachary,” Tower said. He guided Zach’s other hand to Tower’s other nipple, which made Zach choke all over again. He could barely reach those mountainous pecs, which bristled with so much power that Zach felt like a weakling in comparison. “Spit up a little, okay?”
Zach didn’t even quite comprehend those words, but Tower had such an authoritarian vibe and he had been giving Zach orders for so long that Zach did as he was told without thinking about it. He let a big ball of spit roll down Tower’s shaft and collect in his thick nest of pubic hair.
“Good… Now gimme a finger,” Tower said. He grabbed one of Zach’s hands and slowly lowered it. “You remember what I said about this being a secret, right? That’s a secret that runs both ways. You gotta keep yo’ mouth shut too — I mean, shut once yo’s mouth is done workin’ on my dick.”
Zach nodded, the motion reawakening his gag reflex all over again. Tower’s dick was so moist now it made loud crackling sounds as it pushed down his throat, his balls dripping with wetness when they slapped against Zach’s chin.
Much to Zach’s surprise, Tower led his hand around to his ass. He had a thick, plump pair of cheeks, the flesh of which was cold and solid, like overset jello. Zach’s hand disappeared between those cheeks, and Tower separated his pinkie finger from the others.
The idea of fingering a giant alpha male Aryan like Tower was so unthinkable that Zach assumed he had some other plan, right up until his pinkie disappeared into Tower’s ass, guided by Tower’s own hand. It was so tight that Zach couldn’t get it in any farther than the first knuckle, but that was enough for Tower’s whole body to buck and squirm. His dick spasmed in Zach’s mouth.
“Yeah, Zachary, you know how to treat a skinmate right…”
Zach had barely inserted his pinkie a few times before Tower groaned as though he was orgasming. He bent his head back and slammed his dick all the way down Zach’s throat.
Tower’s voice was pinched and tight, like he experienced intense pain from the pinkie in his ass but still was overwhelmed by orgasmic pleasure. His dick pulsated in Zach’s throat, and Zach realized he was about to cum as the man’s balls lifted up in their sac.
“Hey, Zachary, I’m gonna blow my nut in a minute,” he said softly. He grunted a few times before continuing. “You gonna taste it. I know this is humiliatin’ for you, and I’m sorry to ask you to do this. It ain’t right. This is my fault, okay? I’ll get forgiveness fo’ it. You ain’t got nothin’ to feel bad about. You just showin’ respect for a man who’s been helpin’ you out since you got locked up. Okay?”
Then cum began to flow down Zach’s gullet. He savored the taste even as he choked on its sourness, the sticky texture coating his insides and flowing into his belly. He felt its warmth settling inside his roiling stomach.
“I know I promised you a reacharound when I ram you,” Tower said softly, breathing heavily as he finished his orgasm. His asshole clenched around Zach’s finger. “I’m still gonna do that. I steady nuts twice when I ain’t nut in a long time.”
As his dick stopped spewing cum, Zach thought Tower would pull out of his mouth. But he didn’t. Zach found himself unable to avoid reacting, and he choked again and again. Tower’s dick grew limp and clammy in there, but still he didn’t move.
It wasn’t until he was completely soft and relaxed that Tower pulled his cock out. Zach choked up a big ball of cum and saliva, which landed on the filthy mattress beneath himself. He was bright red from both embarrassment and lack of oxygen.
“You doin’ great, Zachary,” Tower said. He backed his body up just a bit, his sweaty ballsack resting on Zachary’s chest. Tower was breathing heavy too, those powerful pecs now dappled with his sweat. Zachary still tweaked one of his nipples, his other hand still finger-penetrating Tower. “You doin’ real great. And you ain’t actin’ like a new-skin at all. I’d nevuh accuse you of that. You actin’ like a guy showing respec’ to a bigger, stronger man. That’s right. That you fulfillin’ yo’ proper role. You believe me?”
“I dunno, Tower-“
“Hush, keep thinkin’ about it, man. Now take that finger out,” Tower said. He smiled, which was barely visible in the darkened room. He held onto Zach’s hand, keeping the pinkie finger extended as he brought it back to Zach’s face. “Lemme see you suck on that. That’ll get me going again. I wanna watch you taste my ass on yo’ finger, Zachary.”
“Oh god-” Zach said before Tower guided his finger in. He didn’t force it, he just showed it the path and Zach didn’t resist. The sour flavor of Tower’s asshole assaulted Zach’s senses as his finger entered past his lips. It tasted of ass-sweat and coppery body hair, and Zach’s entire body rumbled as he gagged.
The sight and sound of Zach’s gagging apparently turned Tower on — his limp dick jerked to half-attention as soon as it happened. Zach licked on his own pinkie finger, hoping he didn’t look too excited.
“Alright, I can tell you want this, you ready for it,” Tower said. He gave his own limp dick a stroke, and his body spasmed like it was painful for him. He was covered in sweat, and since his body was so smooth (above the waist at least), he was slippery as he slid behind Zach. He pushed Zach onto his side and settled down on the ratty mattress behind him.
“I wouldn’t say that, exactly,” Zach said, his voice weak and wavering.
“Here, you can bite me if it hurts too bad, Zachary,” he said. He kissed the back of Zach’s head. His forearm was so sweaty that the salt brought tears to Zach’s eyes.
Then that rapidly firming cock pushed into his ass. Zach spasmed as pain erupted within him. He was shocked by how hard it was considering that Tower had just shot a nut a few minutes before. But his dick showed no evidence of that, aside from the smell of saliva it had before inserting itself into Zach’s ass.
Zach moaned again as he tasted sweat and forearm meat, and his ass screamed in pain-cum-pleasure. He felt like he was being torn in two, every nerve crying out with every sensation he could think of. He did scream in pre-orgasmic bliss, his prostate sending waves of pleasure through his body, but the sound was muffled by Tower’s forearm in front of his face. Tower grunted and snuffled like an animal, his sounds sounding impossibly loud because Tower was right in front of Zach’s ear. His chest was so smooth — shaved every other day — that it slid against Zach’s back like a wetwipe on a glass wall.
Tower’s other arm wrapped around Zach’s upper chest, very near his neck, and held him close. It was half-hug and half choke-hold, but not so tight as to impair his breathing. Zach squirmed as pain and pleasure overwhelmed him simultaneously.
When that hand on his chest drifted down, Zach didn’t know what was coming. Even though Tower had said he would give a reacharound, Zach was too engrossed in his own experience to remember that.
Until Tower’s hand actually wrapped around Zach’s dick. In that moment, three things happened at once — first Zach realized Tower was serious about giving him a reacharound. Second, Zach realized with an embarrassed shock that he was rock-hard already, from the stimulation of his prostate. The pain was so intense he hadn’t noticed his erection until Tower touched it. The third thing was that Tower laughed at him.
“You already heard, boy? You wanted this all along, huh?” Tower said. Zach couldn’t form any words because the sensations overwhelming him were too intense. All he could do was bite down hard on Tower’s forearm. Tower sharply inhaled but didn’t complain no matter how hard Zach gnawed on his muscular arm. “I’m gonna ram you hard then, Zachary, since you seem to be enjoyin’ this so much.”
Tower took a deep breath then, and he pounded his dick all the way into Zach’s ass. Zach bit down hard on his forearm, tears welling up in his eyes. Tower groaned loud and began ramming his dick in and out with long powerful thrusts.
His other hand furiously jacked Zach off. He had a well-practiced hand — Zach wondered how often he had given a reacharound — but his fingers were callused from work, from digging with a splintery wooden shovel handle on a prison crew. Despite the rough texture, it felt amazing to Zach, who experienced both agony in his ass and intense pleasure in his crotch.
Zach wished that he didn’t cum so quickly, but once Tower began stroking him off, his orgasm approached and Zach couldn’t resist. He spasmed and squirmed in Tower’s arms, but Tower shushed him and kept going. The thwump-thwump of his balls slapping against Zach’s ass seemed impossibly loud.
“Oh god, Tower…!”
Semen sprayed over Tower’s fingers and all over Zach’s thin chest. Tower laughed as it happened, and Zach squirmed. He gasped, his tongue slathering spit on Tower’s solid forearm. Tower didn’t express pleasure vocally, but Zach sensed it in the rippling of Tower’s polished chest muscles pressing against Zach’s back.
“Taste it, man,” Tower said softly as Zach recovered from the aftershocks of his orgasm, the agony in his ass only growing worse now that he didn’t have pleasure in his cock to distract him. Tower quickly rubbed his hand along Zach’s belly and chest, scooped up all of that cum and then smeared it over Zach’s face. “Taste yo’ nut.”
Zach gagged all over again, feeling like he was swallowing dick once more. He sputtered over the salty flavor, which was more intense now since he tasted it directly on his tongue rather than shot all the way down his throat. His face was covered in his own sticky goo.
Then Tower let out a low groan and stopped moving for a moment, with his dick deep inside Zach. He lifted his dick almost all the way out, and slowly reinserted it, inch by inch. Zach could tell this was it — he felt the cum flowing through the man’s cock as it filled up his ass again.
But he was distracted when it actually happened because Tower kissed him. It was the most shocking part, Zach thought, because it seemed genuinely affectionate. Tower kissed him right on the lips, inserting his tongue into Zach’s mouth and didn’t even mind tasting the semen that still coated Zach’s face.
Cum flowed into Zach’s ass. He was surprised at how big the load was, since Tower had already cum once. It was a torrent of thick, hot juice that trickled into every corner of Zach’s body. There was so much of it that Zach imagined he could taste it all over again.
Then it was all over. Zach didn’t know how long it lasted. He winced and blanched laying there in Tower’s sweaty, tattooed arms, feeling cum flow into him and drip down between his legs.
Finally Tower let his limp dick flop out, which was followed by a leaking flow of jizz. But he stayed right there with his arms around Zach, breathing heavily and letting his hot breath condense on Zach’s cheek. Zach groaned as relief flooded him. His ass had never felt better than it did in the first few seconds before a dull ache appeared within him. He squirmed again, but Tower squeezed him tight.
He kissed Zach again. “Thanks, Zachary,” he said. “That was nice. We’re gonna sleep like this, okay?”
“Uh… okay,” Zach said, mainly because he couldn’t think of a reason to say no, given everything that had already happened between them.
“Good. I promise, from now on, I’ll just ram you once at night, okay? No more double-duty,” he said.
“Okay.”
“Tomorrow, I’ll put a swastika on your chest too. We’ll get some guns. We got big plans, Zachary,” he said. “Tomorrow, we start gettin’ shit done.”
Zach’s heart pounded. He nodded, but didn’t say anything. He really needed to find a different place to live. While he enjoyed getting rammed by Tower, he didn’t want to use guns for any plan that Tower might come up with. It wasn’t worth the risk.
He lightly patted Zach on the cheek. “Don’t worry. As long as we’re together, it’ll be okay. You’re gonna take so much cock, boy, you gonna feel like a chicken coop soon. You’ll learn to love it. And we’ll have money from robbing Mexicans, we won’t be poor for long.”
“Oh, okay.”
“Ssh, now go to sleep. If you want, you can wake me up with a handjob. I love that,” Tower said. He nuzzled the back of Zach’s head as he settled in to sleep. His sweaty chest still pressed against Zach’s back.
Zach sighed and closed his eyes. All he could think about was the limp dick throbbing between his asscheeks, the stone-hard pecs and nipples rubbing against his shoulderblades and where else he might live.
For now though, he didn’t have any better options than to fall asleep in the man’s Aryan-tattooed muscles…

The Pilot

Teddy works for a billionaire on a charter flight, but when it turns out to be just him and the pilot sharing a hotel room and a bed, Teddy is in for the alpha-male pilot service experience of his dreams!

Read it now as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Teddy was glad to buckle up when the plane glided to the ground at the airstrip in Bucket Hole. He was ready to move on with the plan. This part was easy. The flight took a long time, since this little old charter plane couldn’t go real fast. Teddy’s ass was sore, his legs were tired and his mind was going crazy for lack of stimulation. He was glad to have arrived in the town of Bucket Hole, which was aptly named, as looked like the kind of run-down-company-town without-a-company where you probably couldn’t find anything worth buying, the kind of town that produces nothing but buckets with holes in them.
Bucket Hole wasn’t much of a town, but it had a small dusty airstrip. It was about thirty miles from an oil field, which was the only reason anyone used the airstrip. That airstrip was the only reason Bucket Hole was still a town. When that oil field dried up eventually, the airstrip would be abandoned, and the town of Bucket Hole would fade away like a forgotten film.
The CEO of Blinkendale Energy was Charlie Walthenham, and it was he who had chartered the flight. Mr. Walthenham had arranged for Teddy to bring gourmet food from his country club — the Rockhard Country Club. Serving that food was essentially the only reason to have a flight attendant on the flight, since Mr. Walthenham could serve his own drinks (he merely drank his scotch neat). So he had hired Teddy from the country club to serve as his flight attendant.
Not a big stretch for Teddy, who used to work as an an actual flight attendant and knew well how to serve that food, because that was what he did at the country club every day. This was the same thing, but it came with a free trip to Wyoming.
It hadn’t become apparent until too late that there was literally no reason to go to Bucket Hole except to strike it rich in oil, and there was no chance of Teddy becoming a roughneck. It wasn’t worth what Mr. Walthenham was paying him.
The plane landed amid a cloud of dust on that airstrip. It was going well, Teddy thought, he looked like a real flight attendant. He even managed to look like he dreaded spending the night in this one-horse town. He emphasized his discomfort with the situation in hopes of inspiring Mr. Walthenham to give him a big tip at the end of the weekend. That might make make this whole thing worth the time.
Usually on these kind of small-plane short charter flights, the pilot didn’t wear the typical pilot’s uniform. Usually the flight attendant didn’t either, but Teddy wanted to look as professional as possible. The pilot seemed to have the same idea. He was tall and a bit of redneck, but only in a tasteful way, a slight twang in his voice, no holler, no trace of a trailer park. He was the kind of redneck people can trust, with broad-shoulders that filled out his uniform nicely. His name was Wyatt Kettenhauer, and he had a gorgeous head of raven hair that made Teddy’s heart skip a beat. He looked young, which Teddy thought might turn Mr. Walthenham off, but he did look solid. He exuded competence, and he was as handsome as a politician.
Wyatt even came out once the plane landed and stood there in the cabin next to Teddy. They both held in their breath, standing at attention as Mr. Walthenham waddled fatly off, yelling at some poor soul on his cell phone. Wyatt made eye contact with Teddy, but both stayed at attention like soldiers.
“You had better get it done, asshole, I’m not waiting another day! I want motherfucking results, or I will come down there to St. Louis and ram my foot so far up your ass you could snort coke off my pinkie toe!” Mr. Walthenham strode out, seemingly not noticing Wyatt or Teddy at all.
They waited until he was good and gone. Since the airstrip was so small, that meant waiting until he left the tarmac entirely.
“Phew! I tell you one thing,” Wyatt said, taking off his cap when they were truly away from Mr. Walthenham. “That man is frightening with a capital F and a capital U. E’ry time I land the plane with him on it, I breathe a sigh of relief, cuz I just know he could have me pistol-whipped for makin’ it a bumpy ride.” His Western twang was peal-y like a mockingbird, his voice a slow rumble like a cowboy, which Teddy soon realized he was, underneath that pilot’s uniform. Or at least he had grown up on a ranch and fancied himself a cowboy, right down to the well-worn cowboy hat when he was back at home. “If you don’t mind me, Teddy, my good man, I’m gonna get find some fine slice of womanhood and see if I can’t plow her furrows.”
“Yes, sir.” Teddy was disappointed in both his desire and his metaphor. Teddy wanted to spend time with Wyatt, whose handsome face and alluring stature got Teddy excited. Teddy was a keen appreciator of a well-formed male physiqye, and Wyatt Kettenhauer was an exemplar of the masculine shape.
Teddy left the plane after tidying up and getting it ready for the return trip. Wyatt the pilot headed into the rinky-dink airport, but Teddy hung behind. He didn’t want it to be obvious he was following Wyatt.
In a tiny airstrip like this one and in a tiny town like Bucket Hole, it should be easy, Teddy thought, to not look like a stalker. There was probably only one motel, only one bar (if that), not that many places a ranch-hand floozy might hang out — that was the kind of woman Teddy thought Wyatt was likely to be after. There was no way to hide in a town like this, and there were hardly going to be multiple women available.
Or maybe the place would be crawling with loose women, given the roughnecks that came through on a regular basis en route to that oil field. They no doubt came out on leave with full balls and cooped-up stiffies. Teddy knew the type. As Teddy moseyed to the hotel though, it looked like there was literally nobody in this podunk little burg.
“How many vacancies have you got?” Teddy asked when he came in the front lobby and approached the desk.
“One,” said the waify, bored-looking clerk. He didn’t look at the computer screen.
“I’ll rent it. Is it a single?”
“Yes, sir,” said the clerk.
Teddy nodded. That was good. He was confident Wyatt hadn’t rented a room first, he most likely went straight out to get laid. Men like Wyatt were like that. He wouldn’t even think about a place to stay tonight until he actually needed it. The clerk handed over the key. He didn’t bother to tell Teddy in which direction the room was. Teddy used to be a hotel clerk, so he mentally deducted one star from his rating for this place.
Not that this was the kind of hotel that cared abouts it rating. There was literally no competition. It was either sleep in the hotel or get eaten by a bear, so the clerk’s hospitality only had to be greater than that of a hungry bear.
The room was drab and dreary. It wasn’t dirty, or at least not actively so, but it was hardly clean either. It was coated in a layer of dinge. But at least it didn’t smell like urine or blood, Teddy thought, which sometimes happened in these tiny motels. Once they get a bad stain, it never goes away, because management won’t spend what it takes. The bed was surprisingly comfortable, and the bathroom was clean, which was what was most important for Teddy. He could deal with the rest.
He settled back to relax and wait for Wyatt to be visible from his vantage point in front of his room, where he could see much of the main street in this town. The clerk inside the lobby kept watching Teddy, trying to figure out his game.
But Teddy just watched the dullness develop as day turned to night, and the moon’s long darkness spread over the landscape. There was the town’s bar too. Teddy couldn’t make out the name on the sign. After a long time trying to decipher it from this far away, Teddy just googled it.
The Clean Pipe. Sounds like a biker bar, he thought. It didn’t even have a proper website though. Just a Facebook page last updated seven months ago.
He soon saw Wyatt coming out of the bar. He staggered out shouting at someone inside, like he had just gotten in a fight and been kicked out — he hadn’t been in there long enough to get drunk though, or at least not real drunk. He sighed and came towards the motel.
Teddy left the hotel room and waited outside as casually as he could muster. He nodded to Wyatt, who had a visible erection in his tight pilot’s uniform slacks. It bulged against the fabric, and Wyatt gave it a squeeze through his clothes as he walked. He must have gotten in trouble with a woman, Teddy thought. Wyatt went to the clerk in the window, ignoring Teddy.
Soon, Wyatt’s deep voice filtered out into the night-time air. “No vacancies! What are you talking about? No one ever comes to this shit-heel of a town! How could you be full?”
Finally, Wyatt came out with an angry snarl. He glared at Teddy, then his snarl brightened into a smile. He walked over to him. “Hey, did you get a room?”
Teddy nodded.
“Can we share? I couldn’t get one. This one-horse town is down to a half-a-horse, and it’s sickly,” Wyatt said. “There was one girl in that bar and she was a prude. She wouldn’t even talk to me!” He threw his hands in the air, then winced because the motion caused pain in his sensitive cock. His erection appeared to have diminished a bit, but there was still a noticeable bulge in his tight pants.
“There’s only one bed, but we can share,” Teddy said with a casual shrug. He sniffed Wyatt’s breath. No alcohol. “Are you drunk?”
He shook his head. “I’m not drinking tonight. Mr. Walthenham seems like the kinda man who might wake me up in the middle of the night cuz he wants to leave early. I gotta be sober as a Monday morning,” he said. He took a deep breath and looked up and down the main drag of Bucket Hole. “Well, I’m gonna go try to get laid. Nothing personal, but if I can, I’m not sleeping with you tonight. Don’t wait up.” Wyatt paused. “You wanna come with me?”
“No thanks, I’ve got a girlfriend,” Teddy said. He scribbled down his room number and passed it to Wyatt. “Come on in. I’ll leave the door unlocked.”
Wyatt scoffed like he didn’t get why a girlfriend should stop Teddy, but he accepted it. He headed down the street to see where else there might be some females. Teddy suspected he would have poor luck — in a tiny town like Bucket Hole, there were not likely to be many options as far as nightlife went. That bar he got kicked out of has gotta be the entirey of Bucket Hole’s nightlife. Probably there were more prostitutes when the roughnecks had leave.
But Wyatt was a charter pilot, and he saw the perks of that job as including all the fine women he met throughout the world. Ladies loved pilots. He could talk a woman out of her panties in virtually any city. He’d bedded (women who claimed to be) Saudi princesses, billionaires, Bruce Willis’s daughter, porn stars and supermodels.
But Bucket Hole, Montana, was proving to be difficult. There was no one here.
It was barely an hour after they separated when Wyatt knocked on the motel room door. He pushed right in when Teddy opened the door. He still had his cowboy hat on, and he removed it as he entered, then put it right back on. His cheeks were ruddy, and he chewed on his lips as he fumed.
“Goddamn this town sucks! You know it’s a dry town? Apparently liquor stores are illegal, there’s only one liquor license in town and it’s the bar that just kicked me out.”
“That sucks,” Teddy said. “I thought you weren’t drinking?”
“I’m not! It’s just an observation. No wonder there’s no nightlife here! There’s no minibar in this room either, is there?”
“No sir.”
“Well shit… I guess this is officially the most boring town in North America, huh, Teddy?” he said. He sighed. Then he glanced up at Teddy with a guilty grin. “Or maybe we’ll fool around when the lights go out, you know what they say — cowboys can do it in the dark, it don’t count, yee-haw!” He paused to gauge Teddy’s reaction. “And they say that about pilots too when they ain’t in they home time-zone, shit yeah!”
Teddy laughed along with him. He wasn’t sure how joking Wyatt was. Hopefully not at all.
Both of them settled into Teddy’s room, and Teddy was glad to have a chance to see Wyatt like this: casual, shirtless, brushing his teeth, taking a shower, putting on deodorant even just to go to bed, clipping his toenails. Wyatt talked, mostly about women, the whole time, and he badmouthed Mr. Walthenham, who hired him often but never learned his name. He kept calling him “Ryan Kettleman”.
Eventually, the night dragged on, and they put on a movie, some superhero thriller that seemed poorly edited for tv and didn’t entirely make sense to Teddy. He could barely follow it though, because Wyatt kept talking the whole way. Mainly he commented on the women onscreen and compared them to the women he had slept with. His conclusion was that he got hotter women than this movie starred. It annoyed the piss out of Teddy, who hated people who talked during movies. Wyatt was too handsome to be mad at though.
Finally, the movie was over, and Teddy was already half-asleep as he turned the light out. He could tell Wyatt was restless and didn’t want to go to bed just yet.
Wyatt paced for a moment quietly. He hadn’t gone to bed with neither sex nor alcohol, nor even weed, in a long time. He wasn’t an addict, he thought, but it was difficult to convince himself that he could go to bed horny and sober. It just didn’t feel right. Every time a woman appeared in his mind’s eye, his dick rocketed back to full erection, and Wyatt resumed pacing in the dark hotel room.
Eventually, he did lay down next to Teddy. Wyatt was used to a more comfortable bed than this. He rarely slept at home, as he usually was in hotels all around the world — wherever Mr. Walthenham needed to go — or sometimes in the bed of his latest female conquest.
Once he got under the covers just a few inches from Teddy, however, Wyatt realized he could satisfy his sexual urges as well. He genuinely thought of it as “not counting” in a situation like this, in a tiny town and a cramped motel. In pilot school, everybody had said it doesn’t count if you’re at least two time zones away from home. That meant cheating. It was okay to cheat on a wife if she was at least two time zones away.
But, Wyatt thought, it could apply to messing around “on the downlow”, as the black guys say. It would not be Wyatt’s first time. It would be his first time since becoming a pilot, however. Women threw themselves at pilots. So did men like Teddy.
“Hey, man…” Wyatt whispered, finally breaking the silence in the silentious motel room, the only sound being the whirr of the air conditioner. “You wanna jack off with me?” he asked with confidence, like he already knew the answer.
Which was true. He did know the answer. Wyatt had noticed Teddy checking him out all day, and he knew perfectly well Teddy wanted to swing on his dick. Most male flight attendants were that way.
“Hell yeah. I didn’t know you were into that,” Teddy said, hoping to sound coy instead of naive. His hands flitted over underneath the covers to Wyatt’s muscular chest, and Teddy scooted closer, so he could feel the solid warmth emanating from Wyatt’s body.
“I grew up on a ranch.” Wyatt chuckled dryly. “You know, out there you stick your dick wherever you can find a nice tight hole, ya feel me? Sheep run scared ’round my parts. Not that I ever partook, cuz I had females hanging off e’ry inch I got, ya feel me?” He patted Teddy on the head, and he gently pushed his head closer to Wyatt’s crotch.
“Uh-huh.” Teddy sighed and allowed Wyatt to move his head closer, putting up just a little resistance, like a nice woman would, just enough resistance to let Wyatt know this wasn’t an automatic gimme. Teddy kissed Wyatt on the treasure trail of body hair leading from his flat belly to his dick, and as Teddy moved lower and lower. He resisted Wyatt hurrying him down to his groin. Finally Wyatt’s half-hard dick collided with Teddy’s face. Wyatt let out a twanging moan as his dick touched Teddy’s hand. Teddy gripped that thick shaft and gave it a few strokes, then opened his mouth and kissed it, right on the tip.
Wyatt’s whole body buckled. He whispered “Yee-haw” again and laughed, very quietly, even though there was no way anyone could hear but Teddy. He pushed Teddy’s head lower on his dick.
“Yeah, man, put your mouth on it…”
Finally, Teddy did so, allowing his mouth the envelop Wyatt’s rapidly firming up cock. It pulsated like an alien beast, and his muscular chest rippled beneath Teddy’s fingertips. The taste of his dickshaft was clean and sweet, with a musky after-scent. He liked feeling Wyatt’s rock-hard meat exploring his throat, pushing all the way in until Teddy’s nose nuzzled Wyatt’s pubic hair.
Soon he was rock-hard, his cock throbbing on Teddy’s tongue. Wyatt moaned as he guided Teddy up and down, firmly but gently. Teddy’s tongue slathered spit up and down Wyatt’s rock-hard shaft, and the first few drops of salty, sun-bright precum hit Teddy’s tongue.
Much to Teddy’s surprise, Wyatt intended to return the favor — he assumed a macho pilot and boss like Wyatt would never reciprocate. He leaned down and stroked Teddy’s dick with one hand. It was a slow, lazy stroke, but it got Teddy hard, and soon both men leaked precum onto each other. It was almost, but not quite, a sixty-nine because Wyatt didn’t taste Teddy’s dick —where Wyatt came from, men could jack each other off in exchange for whatever or because they lost a bet, but swallowing a nut was too much. Wyatt wouldn’t do that. He could do almost anything else though. Teddy was not gonna complain.
“Hey, man, can I stick ya?” Wyatt asked, his voice soft and low, aimed directly into Teddy’s ear.
“You gotta gimme a reacharound,” Teddy said, gasping for more. He chased Wyatt’s cock with his mouth, but Wyatt kept moving it out of his way, already getting in position to go up Teddy’s ass, even though Teddy hadn’t agreed yet. Wyatt wasn’t used to anyone telling him no.
“Hell yeah, you oughta be a full-time flight attendant, yessuh. Pilots could use someone with a mouth like you. Women stewardesses are teases these days, I tells yah!” Wyatt said with a loud whoop, which he then muffled. “Sorry, that was loud.”
“No one can hear.” Teddy’s voice was huffy and plaintive, as he was desperate to get Wyatt’s manhood inside him.
“I know… This kinda thing is best done on the hush and in the dark, ya feel me?”
“Yeah…”
Wyatt slid behind Teddy and hefted his dick between his cheeks. Teddy’s asshole tingled, then the tip slid in. Teddy bit his lip as pleasure and pain both enveloped him in equal measure. This was happening faster than he thought it would. Despite the lack of any potential audience, Teddy still swallowed back a moan of pleasure, as sensations sparked up and down his body. Wyatt’s cock slammed into his prostate, both men moving as one as pleasure filled both men’s bodies.
The hum of the air conditioner outside the motel room seemed impossibly loud. Teddy couldn’t hear anything but that and Wyatt’s heavy breathing condensing on the back of his head, as Wyatt’s hands explored Teddy’s smooth chest. The intense pressure overwhelmed him, but gradually loosened with every passing second.
“Sssh… it’s okay,” Wyatt said, his low twang echoing in Teddy’s ear like a banjo. His hands roamed over Teddy’s body and then gripped his dick. A jolt of pleasure shout through Teddy. “I’m inside ya now, son…”
Teddy’s whole body tensed as more of Wyatt’s cock slid in, each centimeter sending a new wave of bliss to wrack his tiny frame. He clenched and bit down. Wyatt began slowly stroking him in sync with the gyrations of his hips. His balls slapped against Teddy’s thighs.
He kissed Teddy on the lips, and their tongues interlocked in Teddy’s mouth. Teddy let out a long, slow moan of pleasure. He couldn’t believe how good this felt. It continued for what felt like forever, and Teddy didn’t want it to end. He cried out and gasped. Wyatt moaned over and over, smiling, glad that he had gotten his rocks off after all, even without a girl. Teddy was probably tighter than any of the women in this town anyway.
Wyatt grunted and his body spasmed. Cum sprayed into Teddy’s ass, great gobs of it that filled him and coated his insides. Some of it dripped out and onto the mattress beneath him. A burst of it seeped into Teddy’s flesh, the creamy heat flowing into him like a river.
“Shit, boy… Hell yeah,” Wyatt said. Spasms of pleasure overwhelmed his body. His free hand tightened into claws that dug into Teddy’s body, while his other hand kept stroking Teddy into an impassioned orgasm. Bliss erupted in Teddy’s body, while Wyatt’s climax turned to a low moan that resonated in Teddy’s ear.
Teddy let out a sigh as he shot his own load into Wyatt’s hand. He felt a slow-burning orgasm that only grew as he came and Wyatt’s dick limpened inside him. Then he took it out. He kissed Teddy on the cheek, where his lips lingered as his hands ran up and down Teddy’s body.
The smell of cum filled the air. Wyatt smiled and pounded on his chest. He flexed his biceps too, as though there was a woman here to impress — of course there was only Teddy, and he didn’t even face the right way to see. Teddy sensed the flexing of his powerful muscles behind his back though, and he rubbed his smoothness on Wyatt’s powerful body.
“Shit…” Wyatt said again with a chuckle. “That was right nice, yessuh. I am sure glad I hooked up with you. You’re a good flight attendant.”
“I’m not even really a flight attendant,” Teddy said with a laugh.
Wyatt shrugged and settled back onto the motel bed. Teddy curled up next to him. He liked the solidity of Wyatt’s muscles and the warmth of his body heat as it suffused over him.
“You’re a good pilot,” Teddy said with a giggle. He snuggled up to Wyatt’s body. “Tomorrow, I might be available in the cargo area during the flight home. Maybe you could sneak back there when the plane’s on autopilot.?”
“That ain’t allowed,” Wyatt said with a shrug. “But if you treat me like that again, son, I’ll do whatevuh you want!”

Reacharound From a Soccer Jock

Simon and soccer player Octavio share a dorm room, but when Octavio gets dumped and has a stiffy that won’t go down, Simon is eager to help out! Can he accept this Uruguayan exchange student’s exotic machismo and his powerful manhood?

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“Don’t worry, he won’t wake up,” Octavio’s voice filtered into Simon’s mind as he slept.
But that wasn’t quite enough to wake him up yet. Simon lingered in between sleep and wakefulness, as the conversation beneath him grew steadily louder and louder. Octavio’s deep voice echoed in the dorm room they shared.
Simon had come to GHU just three weeks ago, and he already disliked his dormmate. It was tough because, while Octavio was a prick, he was also a handsome soccer star. Simon loved his square jaw, broad shoulders and deep, dark eyes, his unbridled machismo, his bulging muscles that didn’t fit in the too-small soccer shorts he wore to bed. He was rough and brusque and seemed much older than his age. His jaw was broad, his hair short like a soldier, his chest perpetually shirtless.
His jersey and those musty shorts lay crumpled on the floor. Simon sat up as he heard the argument in the bed beneath him grow more heated. Octavio had brought his girlfriend over to the dorm. It was awkward, to have those two giggling and flirting, probably touching — maybe fucking — or at least, you know… touching each other — in the same room as Simon, while Simon wasn’t involved at all. Not a double date, not a friend of a friend, not a party. Simon had no connection to what was happening in his room.
Octavio’s frustrated voice muttered, muffled by the bed separating them. It sounded pleading. Was he asking her for something? Simon wondered if his breathing sounded like he was asleep. How do asleep people breathe? He exhaled slowly. Octavio and his girlfriend probably couldn’t hear though, they were talking, in increasingly animated voices. Octavio sounded frustrated.
“I don’t care, Octavio, don’t be a jerk! Why can’t we wait?!” That was Mandy, Octavio’s girlfriend. She was kind of a bitch, but she was beautiful — big tits, long legs, a round ass, a hefty head of mouse-brown hair. Mandy and Octavio had hooked up two weeks ago, but it already felt like forever. They argued constantly. She set up tasks for Octavio to do a lot, she seemed to think she was his social manager. She wanted Octavio to confront various people about wrongs done, to switch classes and majors, to say various things to various people in specific tones of voice, to buy her things even though she was the one from a wealthy family, while Octavio had to borrow money from her to buy the crap she insisted on. She’d barely looked at Simon. Women like her didn’t notice men like him existed.
“I been waiting!” he said with a groan. Octavio backed away from the dorm bed beneath Simon. She still lay there. Octavio must have been undressing, and maybe she did too? Simon heard a flurry of activity underneath him, which might have been her putting clothes on. Octavio’s face was ruddy and tense
He wore only a clean white jockstrap. The bulge of his dick would have been visible if it weren’t so dark in here, Simon had seen that on several occasions. When it was really hot, Octavio walked around in his jockstrap, either uncaring or unaware of how much his bare ass got Simon’s attention, especially when it was cradled by the straps of his jock.
Hoping to avoid any awkward situations, Simon pretended not to wake up. He couldn’t help but sneak peeks at Octavio’s nearly-naked soccer-toned body, however. Octavio was a soccer phenom back in his native Uruguay — he claimed to have been offered a position as a player for a professional club, but turned it down to go to school in America, here in the middle of nowhere. Simon wasn’t entirely sure he believed Octavio about the professional team offer, but it was plausible. He was the best soccer player on the GHU team, or so everybody said. Soccer fans seemed to think Simon should be overjoyed to be sharing a room with the Octavio Juárez.
“You’re being a real asshole right now. I said we could come up here and make out. I’m not…” her voice trailed off to a whisper, “having sex in front of your roommate.”
“He’s a wuss, and he’s uno nadie. He don’t matter, chica. Only you matter…” he said with a sigh. “I want you. I need you. Now shut up or he’s gonna wake-“
“Don’t you tell me to shut up! I told you about that, I hate that! You fucking asshole, Octavio! I knew this was going to happen. Didn’t I-?” She jumped to her feet.
“Oh, shut your stupid bitch mouth for a minute and let me talk!”
“What did you call me?!” Mandy put her hands on her hips, exchanged dark-eyed stares in the unlit dorm room with Octavio, whose jockstrapped body rippled and flexed like he was using all his muscles just to stand there. Her tits nearly overflowed from her bra, and she carried her blouse in hand. She put the blouse on and clumsily buttoned it as she strode to the door, then stood in the threshold and screamed at Octavio. “You are a real prick, Octavio, you know that? You’re a worthless piece of shit!” Then she slammed the door shut.
Simon sat up, as there was no point in pretending he slept through that. He looked at Octavio, who paced across the darkened dorm room. Light from the streetlamps outside and from the computers and charging cell phones kept the room illuminated enough to see his flat stomach and hairy chest, his nut-nose skin and his grizzled square jaw. Simon felt inadequate — he was small and skinny, and he seemed young in comparison even though he was actually three weeks older than Octavio. How did someone just barely eighteen look like he was pushing thirty? How did he have such muscle and body hair? Simon cursed his luck. Most of the guys in the drama department had a sixth floor dorm. Simon wished he was with them. He wasn’t a drama major — Dad would never allow that — but he hung out with theater people, and it sounded like they had such fun.
They didn’t have handsome machos like Octavio though. Simon licked his lips. He got to shower with Octavio sometimes, and he always did enjoy the camaraderie and the horseplay and the fat jiggling cock. He didn’t think Octavio felt reciprocally though — Simon enjoyed those things when Octavio did them, but Octavio wouldn’t enjoy them if Simon did them, which he didn’t. So to Octavio, those showers were probably boring and dumb, and he probably preferred to shower with his fellow soccer stars.
“Sorry ’bout that!” he muttered, his tone still angry as though this was Simon’s fault. He kept pacing.
“Oh, no worries,” Simon said. “It’s okay. I, uh… I’m sorry-“
But he wasn’t listening. He interrupted Simon with an expressive flourish of his hands. “That fucking bitch promised me she’d put out tonight!”
“Well, she might have-“
“I ain’t bein’ a prick, she was teasing me about it all night! All night, she was sayin’, you just wait till we get back to your dorm!”
“Yeah, Octavio-“
“And now she fuckin’ blueballs me! That goddamn perra! ¡Es la perra más grande del mundo!” he said. He put his hands on his hips and glared at Simon. “Why are you always lookin’ at me in my jockstrap, huh?” His pubic hair peeked out from the edge of the overstuffed jockstrap. It looked like his balls were about to fall out of the pouch.
Simon blushed. He didn’t answer. He just bit his lip. He hadn’t realized how obvious he’d been. But even now, he had trouble looking away from the overstuffed bulge of Octavio’s crotch.
Octavio came closer to the bunk beds. Simon was on the upper bunk, and Octavio was a little too short to look him right in the eye. He sneered at Simon.
“You can swallow my nut, Simon, but if you ever tell anyone, I will kick your ass!” he said. “¡Te voy a arrancar la polla!”
“She was right, you are a jerk!”
But Octavio didn’t register the words right away. He dropped his jockstrap, revealing a half-hard dick angrily throbbing, the veins in its shaft visibly pulsating even in the dim light of the dorm room. He was obviously very horny, Simon thought, which made Simon horny as well. He would greatly enjoy stroking, tasting and rubbing every inch of that awe-striking rod of man-meat.
“You are to say no? You do not want to do chack me off?”
“No! Well… I don’t have to. You shouldn’t take people for granted-“
“But you want to?”
Simon clamped his mouth shut. Saying no wouldn’t sound believable, he thought, so he simply said nothing.
Octavio sighed and flared his nostrils. He paced again, gave his dick a touch, then let go and glared at Simon. Then through gritted teeth, he said, “Will you please get me off? I know you want to…” His voice trailed off like he had wanted to add another insult but didn’t. He clucked his tongue against his teeth.
Simon slid off the edge of the bed, dropping to the floor, and Octavio scoffed like he was annoyed it had taken this long. Heart pounding, Simon moved one hand to grab Octavio’s dick, but Octavio gently pushed him down to his knees.
“C’mon… man… Put your mouf on it…” he said, again struggling to avoid insulting Simon. Simon was on his knees now, so close to Octavio he could smell the funk of his crotch and the floral bouquet of his girlfriend’s perfume, which clung to his skin. In the darkness, Simon could barely make out the silhouette of his cock, but the small portion he saw through the dimness was half-hard, throbbing and veiny, and the sight of it made Simon’s mouth water. Overhead, Octavio’s baritone boomed. “You’re my little pasivo now. You want it, I know it. You are having been looked at it many times. In the shower. You want it. You want me.”
He pushed his dick into Simon’s mouth. It tasted spicy and fresh, and a little like clean cotton from his jockstrap. The flavor reminded Simon of Latin food, the grass of the soccer pitch and the musty sweat scent that Simon caught a whiff of each time Octavio came back from practice exhausted. There was a certain sunniness to his flesh, like Simon could taste all the hours he had spent shirtlessly practicing in the Uruguayan sun.
His throat loosened as Octavio pushed his cock inexorably, but not violently, down. He grunted and moaned in half-articulated Spanish as he went, and his balls slapped against Simon’s chin. Simon’s hands fluttered at first, unsure if Octavio would allow him to touch his body.
He groaned as he fed his dick down Simon’s throat. He held onto Simon by the ear, grinding his dick as he pushed it ever deeper. Simon gripped his plump, muscular asscheeks and held on tight. Octavio’s ass was shockingly hairy for such a young man, the hairs were fine and soft, and his cheeks were firm yet juicy, jiggling beneath Simon’s fingertips.
There was a knock at the door. Simon gasped as Octavio pulled out. Octavio roared in frustration, then he seemed to consider it could be Mandy back again. He ran to the door and looked through the peephole.
“Octavio? Simon? Are you guys alright in there?”
It was Auden, the RA. He was an annoying Young-Republican taste of paste, a thick-thighed bespectacled business major who claimed to tolerate no tomfoolery but actually had such little authority he had no ability to prevent it. Nobody in the dorm liked him. He was mainly concerned with demonstrating his respect for diversity, enforcing rules was a second-order priority.
“Yeah, we’re fine,” Octavio said through the shut door.
“Everything’s cool, Auden,” Simon said, his voice weak because he was desperate to get back on Octavio’s cock.
“It’s just… There was a lot of shouting just now. Are you sure everything’s okay? I can set up a conflict circle for tomorrow.” His voice was wavery like a weak string. “We should talk through-“
“Yes, it is okay now! We just have had a little disagreement,” Octavio said through flared nostrils. His dick pulsated in the darkness as it demanded more attention. Octavio opened the door all the way, boldly showing off his huge Hispanic prick, which was hard and dripping with precum and spit.
That made Simon suck in his breath. American men didn’t just flash their dicks in well-lit public areas like, apparently, Uruguayan men did.
The hallway outside the dorm room was quiet and dark aside from the emergency lighting that illuminated Auden. His portly body blocked the door way. “Uh… Oh…” Auden blushed. His fat cheeks jiggled, even when he wasn’t stumbling over any words. He stood there in the doorway, staring at Octavio’s cock. He was as mesmerized by it as Simon was, it seemed. Auden stumbled over his words. “Is… uh… your girlfriend still here?”
“I ain’t gotta tell you shit, esé,” Octavio said.
Auden backed up a few steps. “Okay, okay. I have great respect for the, uh… Uruguayan, uh… traditions, and uh… So, that’s — I’ll get that conflict circle set up-“
“No!” Simon cried out from the dorm room. He hadn’t wanted to get involved in this conversation. But Octavio seemed like he wasn’t going to argue about the conflict circle — Octavio had a coach and practice to use as an excuse, Simon had nothing and would have to talk to Auden about the conflict circle if he didn’t nip that it in the bud right now. “There’s no conflict, Auden. It’s fine. We don’t need a conflict circle!”
“Okay, it’s just, uh, reconciliation, and we need to solve-“
“I am closing the door now. It is a Uruguayan tradition,” said Octavio. He slammed the door in Auden’s face.
Outside the doorway, Auden’s voice could still be heard. “Uh, yeah, okay then… Just keep it down, Octavio.” He paused. “And Simon.”
Octavio’s hardon had almost diminished. But he muttered to himself, stroking it back to erection as he returned to Simon and slapped him over the face with his cock. Simon opened his mouth, and Octavio pushed his dick back down Simon’s throat, still muttering in Spanish about Auden. His dick was now as hard as it had been before the interruption, and he slammed it right down Simon’s throat.
“Swallow it, pasivo, yeah…” Octavio said, and he seemed to be going out of his way to be even louder just to prove he could, to prove that Auden meant nothing to him. He even situated himself towards the doorway as though Auden would be aware that Octavio’s anger was aimed at him.
Soon precum dripped down Simon’s throat again. It was salty and sweet, and it made Simon moaned with desire around the cockmeat in his throat. Octavio’s thick fingers rubbed Simon’s face and neck as he worked his dick all the way down Simon’s spasming gullet.
Then, without warning, Octavio pulled out. He pushed Simon onto his belly on the bed, and rammed his pinkie finger into his ass. He screwed up his nose as though he didn’t want to do it, even as he continued fingering Simon right in the ass. Pressure, pain, bliss and discomfort all hit Simon at the same time.
“Oh, hell… Octavio…” Simon’s voice broke. He threw his head back and moaned. He was on Octavio’s bed now, and he smelled both Mandy’s perfume and Octavio’s manly funk, his sweat, his socks and feet, the pillow he slept on every night, his unwashed sheets. Mandy’s perfume faded to the back of Simon’s mind.
All that mattered right now was Octavio’s youthful aroma and that fat cock, which Simon reached for even as Octavio moved both him and Simon into position. Into position for what? Simon didn’t know, but he was eager to find out.
“I want to stick it in you, americano,” he said breathlessly as he mounted Simon from behind. He didn’t put his dick in yet, just slid it hotly between Simon’s cheeks, and it pulsated there on Simon’s asscrack, as though it was massaging his sensitive hole. It sent waves of sensation through Simon’s body. He spoke right into Simon’s ear. “C’mon, you be my pasivo?”
“What does that mean?” Simon asked, his voice wavering and soft like Mandy’s had been (before she got salty).
“It means I get to stick my dick in ya culo when my girl won’t put out. I’ll be real gentle, promise…” he whispered, like he was embarrassed about it. “You will want it.”
“Oh, well… I guess, I…” Simon said. His heart pounded.
He had no sooner closed his mouth when Octavio pushed his dick in. A tight pressure erupted in Simon’s ass, and he clenched. Octavio had a tube of lube though, and he squeezed some out. Was Octavio planning on talking his girl into accepting anal sex tonight? That seemed hard to believe, but he was just cocky enough to try it.
Or maybe his dick was so big he needed lube for vaginal sex. Simon was a virgin and had no idea if that was normal or not.
Pangs of pleasure erupted in Simon’s sensitive ass, and he gripped the bunk bed tightly. Simon bit his lip to suppress a moan, not wanting Auden to interfere again, even as exquisite feelings ricocheted around in Simon’s body. It felt so good Simon’s whole body tensed and wrenched, and he slammed his head on the pillow underneath.
As Octavio worked his dick in deeper and deeper he moaned into Simon’s ear. He even kissed him on the cheek, then pulled away as though he hadn’t realized what he was doing. As he kept going, however, drilling his hard cock in deeper and deeper, his awkward kissing moved from Simon’s cheek to his lips. He even plunged his tongue into Simon’s mouth.
“I am a machote, you know what that means?” Octavio said when he pulled away from Simon’s lips. He wrapped his arms around Simon’s body as though holding him in place. He growled. “You want me to slam you like I should? An hombre should make his pasivo hurt, y’know. Mi papi always say a pasivo should be crying, that way he knows he is no real man.”
“Yes, oh god yes, Octavio,” Simon said, gasping for air as he was squeezed by Octavio’s muscles. Octavio’s dick, perfectly still, throbbed in Simon’s ass. He didn’t understand and wasn’t listening to Octavio’s words.
“Now take it, puta,” he said. He drove his dick in and out so hard and so quick that Simon gasped, not even able to concentrate enough to scream.
Then Octavio rolled him and Simon over onto their sides. He kept Simon’s chest in a tight hold, and he wrapped his feet around Simon’s ankles to hold him in position. Simon was wedged between Octavio’s lithe soccer-toned chest and the dorm room wall. He wondered if their neighbors would be able to hear. It seemed hard to believe there were two people sleeping maybe five feet from this spot and they didn’t know what incredible things were happening here.
He rammed his dick in and out, pushing the entire length of it, then pulling it almost all the way out, so just the tip remained, just enough to keep Simon’s attention focused on the pressure and pleasure in his ass. He moaned and bit his lip to avoid being too loud.
“Mi papi also teach me another rule,” he said, his voice suddenly low and soft. He kissed Simon on the cheek. “He say it should hurt, but it should also feel good. An hombre should give a reacharound.” His accent was growing thicker now, the more passionate he had become. “If he did his submission like a good pasivo should…”
His hand crept gingerly around Simon’s body, then wrapped around his cockshaft. Octavio moaned as though it was disgusting to him, but he gave it a few strokes all the same. That made a potent tenderness erupt in Simon’s cock, which spewed precum like water from a hose.
Soon Octavio had a good rhythm going. He used one arm to hold Simon into position, while his other hand jacked Simon off and his dick pounded in and out of Simon’s ass. He snorted like a bull as he humped, and Simon was totally immobilized, melting into Octavio’s powerful muscles, which squeezed and rippled and rubbed against the smoothness of Simon’s back.
“I’m going to fill you up. Don’t spill, that’s disrespectful to an hombre,” Octavio said. He sniffled as he drenched kisses on Simon’s back. “Okay, gringo? You promise you will not spill?”
“I promise…” Simon said, groaning as his own orgasm approached.
Octavio hit his climax first. He paused with his dick balls-deep in Simon’s ass, then gasped. Hot cum spread within Simon, who moaned loudly as it spread to every corner of his insides.
As he nutted within Simon, Octavio stopped stroking him off. Pleasure pounded through Simon’s veins. Then he squirmed, desperate to get himself off. His movement made Octavio’s dick twitch, and Octavio’s whole body writhed atop Simon.
And then Octavio resumed stroking. His limpening dick remained in Simon’s ass, even as his muscles all tightened and he groaned loudly.
It was only a minute or two later that Simon’s own orgasm overwhelmed him. He bit the pillow to avoid screaming, then rolled his head back and buried his face in Octavio’s hairy armpits. He grunted and groaned into Octavio’s body as cum sprayed over his chest and belly.
He didn’t know how long he lay there in Octavio’s arms. He would have gladly slept in exactly that position, but after what felt like forever, Octavio moved. He sopped up all the cum that had coated Octavio’s hand and Simon’s chest. Octavio gathered all of it up in one hand, his snorting disgust making it sound like he was being forced to do so, even though Simon hadn’t even asked him to.
Then Octavio held up his cum-dripping hand. He showed it to Simon, then very slowly pushed each finger into Simon’s mouth.
“Yeah, eat that nut, slut… You gettin’ nasty…”
Simon had always loved the taste of cum, but he’d only ever tasted his own. He also enjoyed sucking on Octavio’s fingers, which tasted of leather and grass, like what he imagined sucking on a soccer ball was like. Octavio moaned too, as though Simon’s sucking on his fingers caused him intense pleasure.
Then he finally pulled his limp cock out. He kissed Simon on the lips again and wrinkled his nose at the salty taste of cum. That didn’t stop him from pushing his tongue into Simon’s mouth and licking up all the semen that stuck to the inside of his mouth.
“Are we gonna do this again?” Simon asked.
He grunted in a negative way but paused before answering. “Probably,” he said. “But only at night. Don’t try to touch me during the day, and don’t tell no one about this. I’ll kick your fucking ass to pieces, puta.”
“Okay,” Simon said. He crawled out of the bed but Octavio stopped him. He dragged him back to where he was, ensconced in Octavio’s muscular limbs.
“Don’t go,” he said. “I wanna sleep with someone.”
Simon blushed, shocked that Octavio would do this. His heart pounded, and he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to sleep. He wanted to lay here and lick those caramel biceps all night, but he knew Octavio would kick him out if he squirmed. So he lay still as Octavio drifted off to sleep.
“You better get out when the sun comes up, pasivo,” was the last thing Octavio said. “I don’t wanna see you in my bed in the light.”
“Okay,” Simon said. “Mi hombre. I’ll get up early.” He cuddled up closer to Octavio’s muscular chest, which exuded solidity and warmth. When he was sure Octavio was asleep, Simon arranged their bodies so that Octavio’s hot dick throbbed in Simon’s sscrack and his powerful arms wrapped around Simon’s body. In that position, Simon drifted into the most comfortable sleep of his life.

The Carpenter

Morgan Cartwright is a bitter man with a powerful need… one that the cute little twink Kwan Tung is eager to help out with! Can Morgan land the job?

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Morgan pulled into the house on Maple Street, lost in thought about his daughter. She was dating a man whom Morgan hated. He hoped to come up with a way to get her to dump him. Failing that, he could try to intimidate the boyfriend. He’d done that before.
He was a towering, intimidating figure. He used to be outright muscular, and he was still just as strong. But he was past forty now, and he had a scruffy, hair-covered body. His dirty blond hair was in a long tangle behind his head, his arms ropy and strong but not “cut” like he had been when he was just out of high school. Back then he had a six-pack and thought it would never go away. He could eat anything he wanted to and still he had not a trace of fat. But not anymore. He had a daddy-six-pack and a dad-bod and a dad-beard — he was no longer stacked and he never would be. He wore the same ratty jeans nearly every day. He had on a red flannel shirt and a wifebeater underneath that, so he could take off the shirt if it was too hot in the house.
He knew a lot of females were intimidated when he did that. But he never hurt them, and he didn’t care about making them uncomfortable. If they couldn’t handle letting a carpenter in, they shouldn’t stay home alone.
He grunted and lifted up his toolbox. This was just a railing on a deck, that was all he needed to do here. It wouldn’t take long.
He could already sense that this house was going to have a single housewife here, and she was going to act like Morgan got pushy about asking her out even though he didn’t. He didn’t even flirt with women anymore. If this bitch filed a complaint against him…
He was already fuming about it even before he knocked on the front door. Bet she’d be pretty. Cocktease, but pretty as heckfire… Her name was Asian… Hmm-hmm… Pretty Asian lady actin’ too good fer herself…
The door opened, and Morgan’s jaw dropped. He stood there, unmoving and silent, his hand still upraised and ready to knock even though the door had opened.
It was a man, a very slim, feminine man with a flamboyant lilt to his voice. He had slightly dusky porcelain skin, totally smooth and unmarked. His body had an undeniably female shape, which Morgan couldn’t tear his eyes away from, but he was definitely a man.
“Hi. You must be the carpenter,” said the twink, stretching his long, smooth legs. Did he even shave those? Morgan thought not, they were too perfectly clean. Morgan wanted to lick them from toe to hip.
“Uh-huh.” Morgan grunted. His dick swelled in his filthy jeans. He readjusted himself as he stepped in, so he could walk normally. The homeowner — whose name was Kwan Tung — walked towards the sliding-glass door in the back of the living room, and Morgan watched his ass sway. He wore tight workout shorts which showed off his plump asscheeks.
Morgan’s heart raced, and he felt redness blooming on his chest and shoulders. He wanted Kwan so bad it hurt. He didn’t know why, it was just the feminine energy maybe. He seemed warm and soft, and he probably smelled like a woman and danced like one too, Morgan could just picture Kwan up on stage at the stripclub, pulling those shorts down to reveal perfectly plump asscheeks and a tight hole.
“The deck’s out here,” Kwan said. He opened the sliding-glass door and Morgan followed him out there. Kwan pointed to the wood at the base of the stairs. “So the railing totally fell off in that windstorm we had. It had been loose for awhile. I meant to do something about it, but I never got around to it. Now it fell apart. So I took off what remained of the railing, and I bought the wood down there for you to use.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Is that enough wood?” Kwan giggled and blushed. “I mean, I know, you can never have enough wood. Or at least I can never have enough wood.”
“Uh-huh.” Morgan wasn’t even looking at the wood or the deck. He couldn’t think about carpentry right now. His eyes roamed up and down Kwan’s body, imagining what he would look like without any clothes on. He probably had a tiny dick, Morgan thought, just an overgrown clitoris…
Kwan clapped his hands and jumped a little on his feet. “Ooh, did you want something to drink? I made some limeade last night, just to use up some limes. I don’t need that much sugar. You want some?”
“Yeah. Cool.” Morgan grunted. His dark green eyes narrowed to slits, again watching Kwan’s ass sway as he went back into the house.
Left alone, Morgan was able to think for a minute. He calmed himself. He was just horny because his wife wouldn’t put out anymore. He hadn’t fucked in six months. Actually, he realized with a fright, it had been almost a year. What was the point of being married if your bitch-ass wife never even gave you a handjob?
He got out his hammer and some nails, and picked up a piece of wood. He was still frazzled, but once he got started, he thought he could focus enough to keep working.
“Here you go,” Kwan’s delicate voice rang out. He placed the glass of limeade on the table on the deck. It looked cool and delicious, but Morgan didn’t go drink any yet. He didn’t want to go near Kwan and risk becoming uncontrollably aroused. Kwan smiled at him. “I’m just going to do my yoga.”
Morgan assumed that meant Kwan was going inside. He started work, avoiding looking at Kwan. But when he finally lifted his head — having started cutting the wood into shape with a saw — he witnessed Kwan’s ass, cradled by those tight shorts, high in the air.
He was doing his yoga routine right there in the backyard, on a bright pink mat. He wore only a light half-shirt that bared his flat belly and those short-shorts that barely covered up any of his thighs. His asscheeks were partially visible.
After a few minutes, Kwan got up and squealed. “Is that my phone ringing? I hear something!” He ran into the house, brushing past Morgan, who moaned quietly at the touch of Kwan’s smooth body.
Morgan found himself walking into the house even though he had no reason to. He grimaced. He didn’t know what was going to happen now. He hadn’t even put down the saw, which was still in his right hand.
“Hello?” Kwan answered the phone. He scowled and put it down. “Damn telemarketers.”
“Hmm-hm.” Morgan licked his lips and came closer. He put the saw down on the counter. What was he doing? He really had no idea. A part of him realized he wanted to cornhole Kwan, but much of Morgan’s mind refused to accept that. He would never cornhole a man (at least not sober and not in prison or in the Army or various other places where it was acceptable).
But still, he put one of his massive paws on Kwan’s delicate shoulder and pushed down. Kwan looked at him with big wide eyes, which he batted seductively at Morgan.
“Are you okay?”
Morgan cringed and his voice broke. “Please…?”
Kwan blushed. “Did you… need something?”
Morgan’s Western twang echoed in Kwan’s ears. “Please, man… I need somethin’ impo’tant, yessuh. A man gots needs, ya feel me? Real needs. If’n they ain’t respected, you know… I ain’t down wit’ nothin’ unbiblical. But, y’know… God forgives, yessuh, I’m a believer, yes.” He pushed down harder on Kwan’s shoulder. He couldn’t believe he was really doing this. But his dick had never been harder. Morgan knew his words didn’t make sense, he couldn’t stop babbling like a moron. “I need summfin’, I got love in my heart. I got a wife, man. You know?”
Kwan still hadn’t gone to his knees, though he felt Morgan pushing him down. Kwan smiled and placed one finger on the bare part of Morgan’s chest, above the cut of his wifebeater. Morgan shuddered and moaned. Kwan smiled. “I’d never want you to cheat on your wife. Is there something I can do to… relieve your urges?”
Morgan grunted. His dick twitched in his jeans. “Man, please… I ain’t… It, uh… It ain’t…”
“But I think as long as you don’t mess around with a woman, you’re not really cheating on her. Don’t you think?”
“Yeah. Yes. Yeah, I mean, yeah, that makes sense. Uh-huh. Yessuh, uh-huh.” He pushed down harder and came so close his steel-like dick was palpable on Kwan’s flesh through his jeans. Kwan smeared some of the sweat that had collected over Morgan’s upper chest. Morgan moaned. “Man… I ain’t-“
“Hush, you don’t need to worry about that, Morgan,” Kwan said. “You’re a man. You have manly needs. Right, Morgan?”
The sound of his own name coming out of Kwan’s lips made Morgan moan again. His free hand — the one not on Kwan’s shoulder — touched the gentle curve of his waist. He looked so much like a woman.
When Kwan realized Morgan was too nervous to say anything further, Kwan said, “Morgan, I’d like to jerk you off. Is that okay-?”
“Yes! Oh god, yes!” Morgan pushed down on Kwan’s shoulder even harder, then added a second hand. He realized Kwan was still resisting and stopped. But he bucked his hips, virtually dry-humping Kwan’s belly and crotch. “C’mon, man, do it, do it, do it, okay? I need it. I need it. I need you, c’mon. You’re so hot. I ain’t like that.”
“I’m going to get on my knees now-“
“Yes! Yeah, c’mon, hoss! Do it! I need it so bad-“
“But Morgan, relax for a minute. You need to be calm. I don’t want you acting like a caveman and face-plowing me. Can you stand still like a good boy? Let me take charge?” He patted Morgan’s meaty side, and Morgan moaned loudly. His whole face was red, cock ready to burst out of his jeans. Kwan touched his dick through his pants and Morgan buckled. He had to lean against the kitchen counter for support.
“Yeah, yes, okay. Please, man? I need it so bad!”
“Good boy,” Kwan said softly. “Take off your shirt.”
Morgan let out a growl of frustration and ripped his wifebeater in his haste to take it off. His broad, hair-swaddled chest heaved for air as he was too excited to breathe normally. He was dizzy with desire.
“Do you have muscles? I only like to jerk off men who could defend me… you know, against, like… bandits, and stuff.” Kwan giggled as Morgan frowned but flexed his arms. His hairy armpits were bared, and Kwan sucked on each nipple, while his hands caressed Morgan’s biceps and triceps.
“Man… Oh god…” Morgan’s whole body undulated. His hard dick was painful now. He was sure he’d blow his wad the moment it got into Kwan’s mouth. He could already picture it. It’d feel so good rubbing over Kwan’s soft lips, spurting his seed over his face. Morgan touched those lips with his fingers without even thinking about it. His pinkie slipped into Kwan’s mouth, and again, Morgan’s knees buckled.
“Hmmm… You’re so strong,” Kwan said with a flirtatious laugh. “Okay, Morgan, you can take your pants off now.”
Morgan moaned. He raced to undo his belt. His jeans plopped unceremoniously to his ankles, and his dick popped out the fly of his boxers, which were soaked with precum. Kwan licked a trail from Morgan’s nipples to his belly.
“C’mon, man, swallow it… I need to get my dick wet…”
Finally Kwan reached Morgan’s crotch, and he hesitated for just a moment. Morgan’s whole body twitched. Kwan opened wide. He popped the tip in his mouth, and sure enough, Morgan’s orgasm began immediately.
As soon as Kwan’s tongue touched his cocktip, Morgan felt the most amazing pleasure of his life. He had to lean against the counter for support, and he gasped and bit his lip with such enthusiasm blood trickled down his chin. He sucked in his breath.
His whole dick was in Kwan’s throat. Nobody had ever managed to swallow his entire dick, not like this, with Kwan’s nose nuzzling Morgan’s crotch, Morgan’s cock filling up his neck and making him choke lovingly on its veiny shaft.
Kwan didn’t stop. He deep-throated and slathered it with spit, suckling like he hoped to get a prize out of it, while his hands stroked Morgan’s heavy balls and his thick asscheeks.
Finally a burst of creamy cum hit Kwan’s belly. Kwan didn’t let up, no matter how his lungs cried out for oxygen. He breathed the best he could through his nose and around the shaft throbbing in his throat.
The taste was warm and salty, sour and sweet and potent all at once. Kwan loved the taste of cum, and burly middle-aged blue-collar redneck cum, he thought, was the best. He liked how Morgan was unadulterated — he didn’t trim his pubic hair, he didn’t wear cologne, just plain unscented deodorant, and he had corn starch in his crotch because his balls got sweaty sometimes. He didn’t shave his chest, and even his scruffy beard was only there because his wife bitched about it so much he stopped shaving to piss her off.
He shot a massive load too, all built-up from months of frustration. Kwan’s eyes welled up with tears from lack of oxygen, but he refused to disappoint Morgan, so he didn’t pull off, even as more and more cum spurted into his belly.
Morgan’s whole body shook as he underwent the orgasm of a lifetime. Then he took a deep breath, looked down at Kwan as though he was done — though his cock hadn’t moved, and still throbbed veinily against Kwan’s tongue — and opened his mouth to speak. “Uh-” was all he got out, however, before his voice broke and his knees gave out.
“Shit…” Morgan’s red face shook as he slid to the kitchen floor. His cock slipped out of Kwan’s mouth only because Morgan lowered himself, shaking with every inch rubbing over Kwan’s cum-covered tongue.
Kwan let out a sputtering moan as he chased Morgan’s limpening dick. Every time he touched it, Morgan grunted and Kwan giggled.
“C’mon, lemme lick it clean,” Kwan said, and Morgan assented, though he twisted and heaved for air with every touch of Kwan’s tongue on his sensitive dick. “Hmmm… You taste so good… Your wife is a lucky woman.”
Morgan scoffed. His face was ruddy and sweaty. Kwan kissed his chest and his neck, leaving his lips soft enough to avoid giving Morgan a hickey. Morgan barely noticed his kisses, not even when Kwan’s cum-streaked lips kissed Morgan on his mouth. Morgan let Kwan’s tongue enter his mouth, while Kwan caressed his muscles.
Finally Kwan pulled off him. He stood, his bare ass just inches from Morgan’s face. Morgan felt another surge of horniness, tempered by the fact that he had just cum.
He couldn’t help but wonder what Kwan’s ass would feel like though. It looked so tight. Was he intact? He couldn’t be, Morgan thought, no way. He certainly didn’t act like he was intact.
Morgan kissed Kwan’s bare white asscheek, his scruffy beard rubbing against Kwan’s smooth skin. Kwan giggled and pushed his ass onto Morgan’s face.
But Morgan stood. He blushed intensely. He couldn’t believe he had kissed a man’s ass, literally. He sniffled and sucked his teeth like a macho again, and he shook his dick until the last few drops of cum slipped onto the kitchen floor.
“Alrighty then,” Morgan said with a grunt. “I guess I’ll go fix ya railing.”
“Thanks,” Kwan said. He watched Morgan go back outside, and then Kwan cleaned himself up. He could tell he was going to get anal. He could have done it right then and there probably. But he wanted to give Morgan time to build up more cum in those low-hanging daddy-balls. Kwan wanted to feel a massive load exploding within him.
He also wanted the railing built. That was a real job that Kwan actually needed done.
So he didn’t go outside until the railing was finished. Kwan knew the effect he had on horny men, and he didn’t want to risk that Morgan would wind up plowing him all day and never finish. It’d happened before.
Kwan put on a thong and a nighty that barely covered his torso and ended just below his hips. It covered up his crotch and his ass, but only just barely. He knew no men could resist him when he wore this outfit.
When Morgan was finished, he came in. Morgan had told himself he wouldn’t cornhole Kwan in the ass. Getting mouth off a man was one thing, but anal? Morgan didn’t think he could bring himself to do that, not even with a very feminine twink like Kwan. Outside of prison, etc. He wasn’t a booty bandit.
But he looks so good…
Having not actually seen him for several hours, Morgan was able to convince himself that it wouldn’t be an issue. He had been unspeakably horny earlier because of his wife constantly blue-balling him. He wasn’t horny now, since he had gotten the orgasm of a lifetime from Kwan already. He didn’t need to bust a nut.
When Morgan walked into the house though, he saw Kwan’s thong-clad ass poking out from that negligée he wore and Morgan’s whole body shook once again. That was a woman’s ass. Morgan really felt like he could look in Kwan’s crotch and find a pussy. He knew that wasn’t true — he had actually seen Kwan jacking off — but it sure felt true. Morgan could picture it. The negligée even made it look like Kwan had small perfectly formed tits, which seemed reasonable since he was small and Asian, if he were a woman, he’d probably have tits about that size and an ass just like that, and Morgan would be unable to resist trying to fuck her.
The only difference between that and this was that Kwan was not female. It seemed like a minor problem to Morgan’s dick, but his mind felt it was important.
Kwan was bent over by the oven, putting a load of sliced carrots in there. He had had them all arranged in a baking dish, but they slid all over each other as he placed the dish in the oven. He pushed them back into a single-layer, working quickly and gingerly because the oven was already hot. He swayed his ass back and forth in front of Morgan’s face.
“Sorry, I just wanted to cook these carrots,” Kwan said. He still hadn’t turned around, so he only knew Morgan was there because he heard him. “They’ve been sitting in my refrigerator for weeks, I wanted to cook them. They were starting to get floppy.” Kwan giggled. “I know you don’t have that problem.”
“Hm-hmm.” Morgan grunted. He came up behind Kwan, his jeans rubbing against Kwan’s ass. “Hey, uh, man, can I cornhole you-?”
Kwan closed the oven door. He turned around and blushed. “Won’t that hurt? You have such a big dick.”
“Man…” Morgan blushed. “Man, I mean… I’ll do it however you want. Man, please… I need it. I’ll cornhole you so right, man-“
“But your dick is so big,” Kwan said with a nervous, blushing giggle. He rubbed his hands over Morgan’s hairy, bare belly. “It’ll hurt real bad.”
“I’ll be nice. I’ll be so gentle,” Morgan said, his voice breathless and wavering.
“Will you lick it first?”
“Yes!” Morgan blanched. He had never licked any ass and wasn’t sure he wanted to do it.
But then he remembered how bare and smooth and perfectly clean Kwan’s ass was. He could eat that. It would be cleaner than his wife’s pussy, and he used to eat that all the time, back when he thought it might help his marriage.
“Okay! But you have to be so gentle! You’ve got the biggest dick I’ve ever taken,” Kwan said. That part wasn’t strictly true, but Morgan did have a big dick and Kwan knew telling him it was the biggest would ensure he was genuinely gentle. Plus it made Morgan puff up his muscles and chew on his lip swaggerously. Kwan pulled down Morgan’s pants and bared his dick again.
This time, however, Kwan didn’t want to do it in the kitchen. He grabbed Morgan’s cock and led him down the hall, into the bedroom.
“Take your clothes off, sweetie,” Kwan said. He handed over a tube of lube. “And put plenty of this on your cock.”
Kwan kissed his nipples and massaged his back as he did. Morgan hurried to take his clothes off, then used most of the tube on his dick. Then Kwan climbed up onto the bed on all fours, lifting his ass high in the air.
It was perfectly round and plump and juicy. Morgan took a deep breath — surprised to find that Kwan’s ass smelled like rose and lavender — before kissing first one cheek, then the other. Kwan wiggled his ass. Morgan’s dick throbbed.
He put his tongue out, surprised to find that Kwan tasted just a bit of salt, but was otherwise mainly flavorless. He could smell a bit of that floral soap too, but the actual taste of his ass was neutral. His tongue slid into the crack of Kwan’s dick and again was surprised at how tasteless it was — just a bit salty and musky.
The closer he got to Kwan’s asshole, the more Morgan realized it tasted exactly like a pussy — a clean, fragrant pussy, unlike his wife’s. By the time Morgan’s lips got to that tight hole, his hesitation had vanished. His tongue plunged right into Kwan’s asshole.
Kwan cried out. There was a burst of pain too, which was a surprise — Morgan’s tongue was massive, and he shoved the whole thing into Kwan’s small ass. But that was just because Kwan was surprised at how eager Morgan was. His soft tongue soon turned that pain into pleasure as it teased Kwan’s prostate and filled his ass with moisture.
“Oh god,” Kwan’s voice was high and wavering. He squirmed beneath Morgan’s scruffy head, which scratched at his ass.
“Hmmm… You taste real good,” Morgan said. He returned to lapping at Kwan’s ass, alternately exploring his insides and slathering his sphincter in spit.
Kwan gasped. “You’ve got the greatest tongue, sweetie. I’m nice and wide open now, you can ram me.”
“Oh god, thank you, baby, thank you, I need this,” Morgan said. He had never begged a woman like this. He still didn’t quite understand how Kwan could have this kind of effect, but he couldn’t deny how he felt. He needed to get into Kwan’s ass.
He spread his cheeks with both hands, eyes opened wide at the sight of that hole, which was tight and loose at once, stretched from Morgan’s tongue yet ready to clench tightly at a moment’s notice. Morgan rammed the tip in as quickly as he could.
Kwan grunted and shook. A jolt of pain ran up his spine, but Morgan patted him patiently and caressed his smooth back, which minimized the agony and made it manageable.
“‘S okay, baby, I’m-a make nice, sweet love to you,” Morgan said. His voice was throaty and moist. “Does it hurt?”
“Just a little,” Kwan said, his voice a faint whisper. He mewled and clawed at the ground. “It’s okay though, baby, you can keep plowing.”
“I won’t hurt’cha,” Morgan said. He felt an almost-uncontrollable need to plow as hard as he could, but he didn’t want to hurt Kwan. He wanted to experience every moment of this. He figured that, if he plowed gently now, Kwan would adjust to him, and then Morgan could go to town. He’d never been able to fuck a girl in the ass and have her take the whole thing enthusiastically. He could tell that Kwan would let him do that, if only Morgan could go slow enough until he was ready.
So he drilled his dick in, inch by inch, stopping every time he saw Kwan shake or shudder. Morgan was so excited to bust a nut that he hadn’t taken a breath since this began. When he started to get dizzy, he forced himself to breathe as he slid another inch of dickmeat into Kwan’s ass.
“Hmmm….” Kwan moaned. He reached behind himself to pour more lube onto his ass. That helped Morgan’s cock slide in, and soon, Kwan felt Morgan’s balls slap against the bottom of his ass.
“Oh… Ah… Uh….” Morgan was going to say something, but the pleasure coursing through his veins was too intense to form any words. All he could do was writhe and pump, grinding his hips over Kwan’s ass.
“Cornhole me, daddy,” Kwan said, cringing, his voice breaking. He sucked in his breath as Morgan began to pound. He went slowly at first, removing his dick in one long motion, and then ramming it in in a slightly swifter motion.
When Kwan moaned orgasmically, Morgan plowed a little harder. Kwan’s feet lifted off the ground and he threw his head back to moan. He clawed at the air in front of him.
“Oh… Oh…” Kwan’s face turned red. “Can I bite on your arm when the pressure feels too good, daddy?”
He placed one thick forearm in front of his face. The pleasure in his cock was so intense he barely even noticed Kwan bite down on his muscles and suck on his arm-hair.
But he could sense Kwan relaxing, his ass opening up, and Morgan rammed back and forth harder to compensate. He moaned, his baritone voice echoing in Kwan’s ear, as Morgan squirmed atop him.
Somehow — Morgan hadn’t noticed this happen — he was on top of Kwan, pounding away at his ass. Kwan was tiny and couldn’t quite support Morgan’s body, but he didn’t mind, he liked the feel of Morgan’s rough-stubbled chest rubbing over his smooth back.
Morgan pulled his face back and kissed him on the lips as he orgasmed suddenly, deep into Kwan’s ass. Kwan moaned and came at the same time, shooting his wad onto the floor. Kwan squirmed and gasped, kissing Morgan back but also nibbling on his lower lip when the feelings got to be too intense to take.
A massive load of cum drained into him. Kwan was shocked it was so big considering he had already cum once today, but Morgan’s balls were on overtime now that he had started plowing again. It had been so long. Morgan moaned directly into Kwan’s ears, and he left a layer of sweat on Kwan’s smooth back.
“Goddamn.” Morgan’s voice broke. A few more drops of cum filled Kwan’s ass.
“Hmmm…” Kwan moaned and sucked on the meaty muscle of Morgan’s forearm. “Hmmm… You’re an excellent carpenter.” He giggled.
Morgan ignored him. He kept on grinding his dick in Kwan’s ass, working out every last drop of cum. His balls were tightly drawn up against his body. Morgan’s whole body buckled atop Kwan’s back.
Finally he couldn’t take it anymore, and Morgan pulled off. His cheeks were bright red. His cock gleamed with moisture. Morgan was too shocked and a bit ashamed of himself to respond. All he could do was sit there on the floor by the bed and watch as Kwan cleaned his ass off.
“Oh you poor baby, you’re so tired,” Kwan said. He kissed Morgan chastely on the lips as he wiped his cock off with some tissues. “Do you want to take a nap with me? I’ll rub your back.”
Morgan was too tired to even say yes. He didn’t think he’d gotten a backrub since high school He sprawled out on Kwan’s silken sheets and let his muscles all relax at once. He was sound asleep from the moment Kwan’s delicate fingers touched his shoulders.
Kwan rubbed his back for a few minutes, then curled up next to him like a cat and went to sleep. He nuzzled Morgan’s bicep.
“Thanks for the railing,” Kwan said. “Maybe when you wake up, I’ll think of something else I could hire you for.” But Morgan still didn’t wake up, so Kwan just kissed him on the cheek and slept in his arms.
It was the best sleep of Morgan’s life, and his nap ended up taking all night and into the next morning. He awoke to the feel of Kwan’s soft body rubbing over him, Kwan’s tongue cleaning some of the night-time sweat off his chest. Morgan sighed and smiled.
He thought he might never leave here.

Sharing a Bed With a Baseball Jock

Avery drives the team bus when he gets a chance to share a bed with a hunky basketball jock. Trent Wyatt’s girlfriend won’t let him go near another woman, but she won’t mind him getting his needs met another way…

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

“My woman said she gonna cut my nuts off if I talk to another female,” Trent Wyatt said in a press conference. That caused a huge controversy that attracted Avery’s attention. Unlike everyone in the media, Avery was not worried because he said “nuts” nor because he used the term “my woman” nor because he used the word “female” in a dismissive manner nor because he accused his girlfriend of threatening assault. That was all silly nitpicking from Avery’s point-of-view.
It seemed the media was very thin-skinned these days.
Avery was interested because Trent Wyatt had specified — and repeated a few times in interviews since — that his girlfriend had warned him off other “females”. She hadn’t said anything about males.
That gave Avery an idea. He managed to pull a few favors within the GHU athletic department, which got Avery a gig driving the team bus for a game between the GHU Titans and Montana State. It was far enough away that they would have to spend a night in a hotel room.
Trent Wyatt was handsome like a movie star, and Avery had a plan to get a swing on his tasty basketball-jock meat. Trent was tall and lean, ropy-muscled with long legs and a sculpted face with dimples and cheekbones and all that jazz. He had only one tattoo — that was another thing that made him unusual in the American College Basketball Association — but it was a colorful doozy, a full-arm sleeve depicting the whole of US African American history, ending in the ornately decorated face of his grandmother near his wrist.
There had been so many reports on that goddamn tattoo last year. Avery had gotten sick of them. He watched a lot of them because Trent Wyatt was well-sculpted, and they showed tons of shirtless pictures of him to display the tattoo — Avery was ninety-percent sure that the reason Trent tried so hard to get the media to pay attention to the tattoo was to show off his chest.
And Avery had wanted him the entire time. He never even recalled what Trent said about the stuff on the tattoo because Avery was mesmerized by those dimples and those deep, dark eyes.
So he was giddy when the Titans climbed onto the team bus. Avery smiled politely but didn’t say much. The players mostly ignored him. They were huge — basketball players always seemed skinny on average to Avery, because they were never barrel-chested or bulky, but when he saw them in person, he could see how heavily stacked most of them really were. Their muscles were compact, pulled taut, so tight it almost looked painful, Avery thought, Trent especially. He looked like a three-hundred pound bodybuilder crammed into a hundred-eighty-pound body.
“Alright, gentlemen, I gotta read the required safety standards,” Avery said when they were all settled in. “Is anyone here a child under eighty pounds?”
“Yeah, me,” said Jashwan Mitchell. “I’m only seventy-four pounds.”
“Then you have to sit either in a child-seat or on my lap,” Avery said. “I choose my lap.”
They all laughed at Jashwan, who laughed too, a little too aggressively, like he wanted everyone to know it could only be a joke, that he’d never actually sit on Avery’s lap. Avery went through the rest of the required safety standards, then he got behind the wheel and set off. Avery got his caffeine pills out and kept them on the dashboard to take when he got tired, and he’d avoided caffeine for the last week to be sure it had a strong effect on him. He’d be driving until midnight. He could probably drive longer, but he wasn’t allowed to, and they should arrive at the hotel but midnight. Not just any hotel either, Avery planned this trip to be sure they stopped at the hotel whose setup was conducive to his plans.
Avery expected lots of rowdy behavior on the bus. They were athletes after all, and he had gone on the football team’s bus once back in high school. The guys then had been loud and rambunctious, and the bus driver had had to pull over twice to tell them to settle down. He was expecting horseplay, off-color jokes, crude gestures aimed at other drivers on the road and aggressive fight songs.
But the ride didn’t turn out like that at all. Maybe basketball and football players behaved differently on bus rides. The loudest they got was a debate over keto versus paleo diets. There was some snickering that Avery was pretty sure came from ogling over pictures on someone’s phone — presumably someone’s girlfriend in a bikini — but other than that, it was very quiet.
“Hey, man, is there gonna be a bar or somethin’ at this place?” Jashwan Mitchell asked when they got close to the night’s hotel.
“A bar at the hotel, yeah, I think so,” Avery said. He had actually chosen this hotel precisely because it had a nice bar and because the bar’s regular patrons included a number of women of loose repute. The basketball players were sure to get laid.
But he let the players discover that on their own. When they pulled in at the hotel, Avery parked and let them all out. He waited in the bus for a few minutes. The players all hurried into their rooms.
Avery came out when he saw the players beginning to head out to the bar. Few of them drank, but there were women galore in the bar, and that was what they were interested in. They all had a game tomorrow, that was why nobody wanted to get drunk. Once he had parked the bus and made sure all the players were checked in, Avery went to the main desk at the hotel to get his own room key.
“I’m sorry sir, there are no vacancies,” the clerk said.
“Are you sure? I was told there was always a room available for the bus driver.” Avery kept arguing with the clerk as he waited for Trent Wyatt to come out of his room. Finally it happened. He was hesitant, smoothing his fine, ironed shirt and fiddling with the gold chain around his neck.
“I’m sorry, there’s nothing I can do.”
“So I have to sleep on the bus?!” Avery threw his hands in the air. He hoped this was coming out believable — Avery in fact knew he needed to call ahead to register a room. Avery used to be a clerk in a motel, he knew exactly how this worked.
But he also knew that, if he couldn’t get a room of his own, he’d end up sharing a room and hopefully a bed with one of the players. He had exactly which player in mind.
“Hey, man, you need a room?” Trent said when he saw the fracas at the front desk.
Avery turned to face him and nodded. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know I needed to reserve a room. That’s not how most hotels around here work.”
The clerk was about to correct him, but Avery walked away with Trent before he could open his mouth. Avery patted Trent on the back, which was firm like a barrel of packed sand. Trent had taken a shower, and his skin exuded warmth still, a few beads of moisture still dotting his nape. His hair remained slightly moist, glistening in the brilliant light of the hotel lobby.
“That sucks, man…” Trent’s voice trailed off. There was an intense pressure in the air. It was obvious Trent felt he should invite Avery to stay in his room, but he wasn’t going to do that. Avery wasn’t surprised. He hadn’t expected it to happen quite like this. He just wanted to put the thought in Trent’s head. He’d let it bounce around in Trent’s mind for awhile.
“Oh, it’s not a big deal. I’ll just sleep in the bus, it’s comfortable enough,” Avery said. “I can rough it.”
“Huh, yeah.” Trent chuckled dryly.
“Thanks, sugar,” Avery said. He patted Trent on the six-packed belly. “Are you going to the bar? Don’t let those women lead you astray — you got a girlfriend at home, right? Stay with her, man. Do what she says, y’know…”
“Yeah…” Trent glanced at the bar, which was crowded and filled with hollering. Word had spread that most of an ABA team was hanging out in this bar, so it had filled up with skanks and hangers-on. One of those skanks was sucking off Jashwan Mitchell right when Trent walked in and nearly walked into his friend’s cock.
Avery watched. He wasn’t a voyeur, but he did enjoy seeing Jashwan’s veiny cock throb in the trashy woman’s mouth, and he enjoyed the bartender’s pained, desperate attempts to get them to stop without calling the police. It all happened too fast for the cops to get involved though. The whole blowjob took maybe three minutes, and then the slut ran off with a mouthful of basketball star cream.
That was hot. Avery licked his lips. He preferred to watch men fuck than to participate, and he’d found driving sports teams really gave him opportunities to watch.
Avery went out to the bus to wait. He thought he had about an eighty percent chance of getting Trent tonight. Avery had a sixth sense about that kind of thing. He spent the time looking on his phone to verify that quote — Trent had definitely specified that he wasn’t allowed to be with “females”, and Avery had definitely reminded him that he was not a female.
He googled Trent on some forums he knew of, to see if there were any rumors about Trent’s sexual history. He may have gotten sucked off by a stripper in Boise, Idaho — a woman claimed as much in a basketball forum, just days before Trent started specifying to reporters that he never got frisky on the road. Avery felt sure that was what had prompted Trent’s girlfriend to make him promise to stop. The stripper had probably contacted her.
That had only been six months ago. If he was really trying to be faithful now, Avery thought, he was probably desperately horny. He hadn’t been back to his house, and his girlfriend, in almost a month, after all. Avery didn’t think it was fair for women to expect their men to be faithful away from home, but Avery did enjoy it — it was one of the things that made it so easy for Avery to find the alpha males he enjoyed.
Back in the hotel, Trent Wyatt hadn’t stopped thinking about Avery.
He’d never messed around with a male. Back in the neighborhood Trent grew up in, it was considered acceptable, more or less, for men to mess around on the downlow. But Trent had never done so. Mainly that was for guys who couldn’t get laid by females. There was a flamboyant man in his neighborhood who would jerk off any eighteen-year-old if he wasn’t fat or addicted to drugs. Trent always had a bevy of females after him, so he would never do anything like that. He’d teased all the guys who did. He ignored it when they said that males throated dick better than any female. He didn’t believe it.
But the older he got, the more he could believe it. He still hadn’t done it. Somehow sex had gotten more complicated, even though he was married and an international sex symbol. His girlfriend rarely wanted to have sex anymore, and she didn’t even suck his dick except on his birthday.
That flamboyant bus driver was outside, waiting. He hadn’t explicitly said he would jack off Trent’s dick.
But Trent had a feeling it would happen if he went out there. He could get sucked off by one of these chicks too, no doubt. But she would likely want his phone number, she’d tell TMZ he was an asshole, she’d brag to her gal-pals, and his girlfriend would eventually find out. Plus, perhaps most importantly, Trent thought he’d be unable to avoid looking guilty if he went back to his girlfriend after fucking with another woman.
You can always bust a nut in a sissy. Feels just like a woman cuz they got the right equipment. They know how it all works.
That was what some of the older guys in Trent’s neighborhood said. Trent had thought it was a joke. They didn’t really believe it, right?
But now that Trent had a woman, he couldn’t help but believe it. It made sense, didn’t it? It wasn’t like Trent would ever leave his girlfriend to jack off with some white man. And he wasn’t even going to do something with Avery that he would do with his girlfriend — she rarely sucked his dick and never did anal.
Trent found himself walking out there without making the decision to go through with it. But he second-guessed himself when the cool night air hit his face. He scratched his balls through his jeans and discovered his dick was so hard it hurt. The women in the bar were so easy, and Trent’s girlfriend was so far away.
I gotta do something. Trent winced. He had an idea that would make it seem like less of a big deal, he thought, plus it’d make him look like a nice guy.
He went out to the bus and told the bus driver he could share his room. “I’m goin’ to sleep now, but you can come with me if you want,” Trent said. “We gonna have to share the bed.”
“Oh, thank you so much!” Avery said, squealing and hugging Trent’s chest. Avery could see the telltale bulge of his hardon, but he didn’t bring it up. He just followed Trent to the hotel room. “I thought my back was going to get sore from sleeping in there.”
“Uh-huh.” Trent bit his lip. He remained tense in the hotel room as he took off his shirt. He liked it when anyone, even men, complimented his chest and his six-pack abs. Avery giggled at the sight.
“Damn, you must work out all the time.”
“Yeah. Pretty much,” Trent said. He posed. He flexed his biceps so Avery could squeeze them, and he even made his pecs bounce. He felt like a stripper. He was awkward at first, but when Avery’s infectious smile caught on, Trent smiled proudly and relaxed.
“Do you normally watch TV to go to sleep?” Avery asked as they settled in.
“Sometimes. My girlfriend don’t like it though.”
“Well she’s not here, so let’s do something she wouldn’t let you do normally,” Avery said. He added with a knowing wink, “You might prefer to have something to look at. You can always turn it off later.” He put the remote on the nightstand on Trent’s side of the bed.
It was softcore porn. Avery had put it on a video of a woman fingering herself, a pretty blonde with tits like sandcastles. Trent’s eyes were drawn to her. Avery winked at Trent, whose half-hard dick twitched in his boxers, but it didn’t seem Trent noticed. The sound was almost off, so all Trent could hear was the woman’s feminine moaning.
Only when the camera moved away from that woman and her tits that Trent noticed Avery watching him. Trent bristled, his muscles all flexing, though he pretended not to notice.
He’s definitely planning on tastin’ my dick… Trent gulped nervously. He couldn’t wait. His dick still throbbed mightily in his boxers.
Avery crawled under the covers and patted the mattress for Trent to join him. Trent grimaced and did so. That sexy babe on TV was hard to tear his eyes away from.
“Hmm… Just relax,” Avery said. “I bet that tonight, you’re going to sleep better than you have in a long time.” He whispered once Trent had settled under the covers, and Avery scooted closer to him. “Do you think so? Is there anything I can do to make you fall asleep better?”
“Uh, well…”
“Shush, you don’t have to say anything,” Avery said. He moved so close his breath condensed on Trent’s ear, and Avery’s hand crept over Trent’s chest. “I’ll just slip under the covers and you can put my hand and my mouth and… other parts… wherever you want them to be.”
Trent sucked in his breath. His dick was hard now, that woman onscreen drawing him in. Avery’s soft fingers caressed Trent’s flat belly. His touch made Trent’s muscles ripple and his pecs bounce, and Avery felt his heartbeat quicken.
It was so easy to believe those fingers belonged to that sexy woman on the TV, Trent thought, especially in the dark, under the covers. That was what her fingers would feel like, Trent was sure. He could picture it in his mind.
“Ssssshhh…” Avery licked Trent’s earlobe. “You can pretend you’re asleep…”His hand slid over Trent’s six-pack to his cock, reaching into his boxers. He gripped his dick and gave it a stroke, bringing it the rest of the way to full erection.
Trent moaned. “My girlfriend…”
“Ssssssssh…. You’re asleep, it’s okay, your girlfriend can’t be mad at you for things your body does when it’s asleep, and anyway, you won’t remember any of this,” Avery said. “Everybody needs a little release…”
“I’m not drunk, I don’t drink-“
“I know, shush…” Avery kissed him on the cheek and lowered his head beneath the covers. He sucked some of the sweat that beaded in the valley between Trent’s pecs. It was salty and warm, and it made Avery’s whole body surge with desire.
At last Avery made it to that cock. He’d freeze-framed on a video of Trent playing basketball in his shorts, cock plainly outlined by the fabric. He had that pic on his phone right now. So he’d been daydreaming about this moment for a long time. He was giddy that he finally got to taste the great Trent Wyatt’s cock.
It was even bigger than he had thought it’d be. He popped the tip in his mouth, making Trent’s whole body shake. His muscles flexed. Avery giggled. His soft limps caressed the rock-hard shaft, which throbbed beneath his touch.
“Oh god….-” Trent cut his moan off because Avery shushed him again. His dick pulsated in Avery’s mouth, rapidly firming up even though Avery hadn’t done much with it.
As Trent’s whole body undulated, Avery pushed his head up and down the shaft, deep-throating it, then pulling all the way off to take a sweat-scented breath of air, then deep-throating it again. Every time his nose hit Trent’s pubes, a moan came out of Trent. Avery murmured, “Shush, you’re asleep, remember? You can tell your girlfriend nothing happened, because you don’t remember it.”
Trent did feel like sleeping. He wasn’t asleep. But this was dark, and he couldn’t see Avery at all. With his eyes closed, he didn’t even see the TV, but he heard the moist, feminine sounds of emanating from the woman on TV.
The sour-salty taste of precum hit Avery’s tongue, and he slurped down every drop. Avery loved precum. He suckled on the tip of Trent’s dick, then throated him deeply until Trent gasped and cried out.
Trent wrapped his hands around Avery’s scalp and held on. He pumped his hips, humping Avery’s mouth as aggressively as anyone ever had.
He was on the verge of blowing his wad when Avery pulled off him. Trent let out a roar of frustration, followed by a desperate little mewling sound. His cock was ready to explode. He had never been this horny. The thought of not blowing his load right away made Avery pained.
He needn’t have worried. Before he could think, Trent felt Avery climb atop his body. Avery carefully kept the covers over him the best he could — the room was dark, so it didn’t hardly matter, but he knew from personal experience that men considered that sexy. It was easy to pretend he was a woman if they couldn’t see him.
Avery gripped Trent’s cock and slid down on it. He bit his lip at first, as intense, uncomfortable pressure flooded his ass. Trent’s dick stretched his tight hole, sending a few twinges of pain through his body. He kneaded the smooth, hard flesh of Trent’s muscled chest as he slid lower and rode him.
At last he was all the way down. His ass squeezed around Trent’s manhood, which pulsated inside him, throbbing so Avery could feel Trent’s heartbeat throughout his body.
He leaned his head down and kissed Trent’s grizzled chin — he was normally clean-shaved, but he hadn’t shaved yet on this road trip. Avery moaned into Trent’s ear. Pleasure exploded in Avery’s veins.
“Goddamn, man,” Trent said. He slowly lost his inhibitions and wrapped his hands around Avery’s waist. He guided him up and down on his cock.
The sheets and blankets fell off Avery’s body, but the room was dark enough that Trent still didn’t see him. Avery shivered a little in the sudden chill of the air-conditioned room.
Avery’s ass clenched. He moaned, his desire to sound like a woman momentarily fading as he shot his own load into his hand. His prostate exploded in intense pleasure that rocked through his body. He leaned his head back and would have howled but he didn’t want the hotel staff to tell them keep it down, so he muffled the sound and instead undulated intensely atop Trent’s crotch.
“Holy shit!” Trent didn’t worry about being loud. He was having the most potent orgasm he’d felt in a very long time. He filled Avery with his creamy seed, each gyration of his hips sending a new wave of pleasure that ratcheted his sensations up to a new level.
Trent couldn’t believe good that felt. His voice broke and he caressed Avery’s chest as though he might find breasts there if he looked hard enough. His body went from smooth and clean to drenched in sweat in mere moments.
Then he felt limp and fell back onto the bedspread. Still, he squirmed there as though it hurt because Avery remained on top of his dick, which still throbbed, exquisitely sensitive in Avery’s tight ass. It felt so good that Trent grunted with pain.
Finally, Avery slid off him, his entire body moist and slathered in fluids. Avery let out a long moan that filled the still hotel room.
The comfortable silence was interrupted moments later by a knock on the door. Trent’s heart nearly leapt out of his chest and he jumped out of bed.
“Uh… Hello?”
Trent’s eyes opened wide. “Hello?! What?!”
“Uh, sir… could you… We have received a complaint, sir. Can you keep it down in there?” the clerk said, his voice wavering, especially when Trent virtually ripped the door open. He hadn’t meant to come across as angry or intimidating, but he did, especially since he was so tall, muscular and stark-naked, massive dick dangling and gleaming with moisture between his legs. A few drops of cum still clung to the tip, and Trent hoped the clerk didn’t see it. It was dark, so probably it wasn’t visible.
Trent hadn’t meant to flash his cockmeat at the clerk. So he just grunted. “Uh-huh. Later.” He slammed the door shut.
Well, he thought, that clerk was definitely going to post about it on the ESPN forums. At least it wasn’t obvious he was in here with a man, or so Trent hoped.
He scooted back into bed besides Avery, who had cleaned up. Avery cuddled up next to Trent, who sighed and let him do so, even when he felt Avery’s dick touching his thigh.
“I’m glad I’m your driver,” Avery said. He kissed Trent’s neck. “Do you want me to wake you up in the morning, sweetie?”
“Hell yeah, babe. Keep ya head under the covers though, since there’ll be light in the room. And don’t make no noise if my girlfriend calls me in the morning. She prolly will.”

The Driller

Lance enjoys the company of men, so this all-male oil rig is the ideal environment for him… especially when he gets to spend the night with the horny driller Edgar Hack! Edgar is desperate to get a load off, a problem Lance is eager to help with… Can they both satisfy their drilling-related needs?

Read it now as an ebook!

Read it the whole thing here!

Lance had a bedroom to himself near the entrance to the oil rig Typhoon-2. Of course no one used the entrance for weeks at a time, but he was nominally the secretary. If someone did pull up and walk in, Lance was supposed to greet them and verify they had the authority to be there.
Of course at an oil rig located two hundred miles from the nearest land, the walk-in traffic was minimal. Lance rarely had less than six hours of advance notice before someone came for a visit. Even the “surprise” inspections by the government were announced twelve hours beforehand.
He had a bedroom there at the corner by the entrance because there were sensors that would wake him up if someone did pull a boat up near the rig. At one point in this oil rig’s history, that was vital — not because people actually came by often, it was just a national security thing — if there were no security measures in place, it would be easy for anyone to sneak up in a motorboat and come in.
But things had changed. Nowadays the sensors could ding Lance’s cell phone. They could alert anyone on the rig, or back on land, just as easily as they could ring the bell in Lance’s bedroom. But state law still required a “secretary” to be near the entrance on the off-chance someone did come in.
At night though, Lance just locked the door and set the alarm to ring his cell phone — powered by a local network — if he wasn’t there. It had only happened about once a month, and each time was a false alarm (probably a strong wave or a dolphin bumping into the rig near the sensors).
“Ah, fuck! You got a hairy back like sasquatch, man!”
“What a nasty-ass motherfucker-“
“Get off me, man!”
“Don’t be fuckin’ squeamish, man!”
The workers roughhoused in their barracks as Lance watched. He didn’t make it obvious he was there, but they all knew it. They all saw him, even in the darkness.
Lance could do whatever he wanted. He was both the highest and lowest man on the oil rig totem pole. He was not a driller, he was a secretary, and he had few actual duties, so he was sometimes treated like the least important employee. But his duties did include paychecks — he doled out leave, he handled sick call and he distributed paychecks every week. So the men treated him variously like a weak wuss of no particular importance as well as like a beneficent god who gave them money out of the kindness of his heart.
Since there were no females on the rig, Lance was the closest thing to a woman around.
“You best step off!”
“Lookit Edgar! Ha ha ha-!”
“Holy shit-!”
Lance walked into the barrack where most of the men slept. It was a long, narrow room with lockers on one side and bunk beds, stacked three high, on the other. The lighting was dim, just the emergency lights because it was after midnight — the lights here were automatic, and the fluorescents out in the hall stayed on all night though the barrack itself was dark.
The men were wide awake though. They never went to bed at midnight like they were supposed to.
They all fell quiet at first, like they always did when Lance came in the barrack at night. One man, Edgar Hack, was stark naked, standing there and shaking his asscheeks — apparently as part of some sort of joke. He shook his ass like a stripper, though he was thick and chunky and hairy, with a rough mustache and dirty blonde mullet. His dick hung free.
“Hi boys,” Lance said, his quiet lilting voice filling up the darkened barrack. “I just wanted to say goodnight.”
The men were all awkwardly silent. They loved attention from Lance, every single one of them. So they all acted as though Lance was a schoolmarm who made them horny despite themselves, like Lance invented stiffies to stifle them.
“Goodnight, Lance.”
“Yeah, goodnight.”
“Goodnight, man-!”
A chorus of goodnights rang out, some nervous and wavering, others proud and boastful. Lance came forward to Edgar, whose eyes opened wide as Lance’s hands roamed over his meaty belly. Edgar was barrel-shaped like most drillers — meaning he operated the cavern drillshaft — with that delightfully raunchy mustache like a 70s porn star, which Lance wished he could suck right off his upper lip.
“Good night, Edgar,” Lance said.
“It’s cold tonight,” someone said hopefully.
“Yeah, real cold. I got plenty of blankets though.”
“Hmm-hmm, me too. I brought this blanket from home, Lance, it’s all nice and thick, huh? My grandmoms made it.”
Lance blushed. “That’s a very nice quilt, Kale,” he said. He caressed the soft fabric. Kale Mashley had gotten the quilt last time he was on leave, not because he wanted it, but because he thought Lance would like it. Lance leaned in to Kale’s bunkspace and kissed him on the neck. Kale shuddered and grunted, and he grabbed Lance’s hand to drag it to his crotch.
“C’mon, man-“
Lance clucked his tongue. “Nuh-uh, Kale, you have to be nice.”
“Ha, Kale-“
“Man-!”
“He don’t want ya stinky cock, Kale.”
Lance bade them goodnight. They still argued even as they settled into their bunks. Kale growled with frustration, but he didn’t complain.
Lance waited outside the barrack. It was cold, that was true, and Lance’s bedroom was especially cold — it was low, near the water and the wind, and it was a corner room, exposed on two sides to the chilly ocean air. There was an area heater in the room, but Lance still preferred to warm himself via alternate means at night.
He waited though. He didn’t like to do it when everyone was awake. He liked to tease them and make them horny. He could have had them bukkake him every night — he still thought he might do that at one point. But with big rough-and-tumble bucks like these guys, if he let them all gangbang his mouth one time, they’d want to do that every night.
It was better to leave them wanting more.
So he waited. He watched Kale jack off openly. Some guys hid it out of embarrassment. There was a small room adjoining the showers that they used for private, or semi-private anyway, masturbation — it was filled with porn, pictures of women making ou with each other literally plastered to the wall like wallpaper.
But Kale and a few other guys did it openly in the barracks. They said it doesn’t count on the rig, and they teased anyone who objected.
Kale did it now because he could see Lance out in the corridor, bathed in emergency lighting. Lance’s trim silhouette attracted Kale’s attention like a moth to a flame. Lance liked watching Kale jack off even though Kale was in darkness, so all Lance could see was his shadowy hand moving and his face, which happened to catch the light from the corridor.
Kale moaned when he came, and the barrack filled with the cottony scent of his cumload. He shot a fat wad all over his flat belly. His muscles rippled, and he groaned. Creamy jizz coated his torso.
He let his dick drop with a cocky snort. He sucked on his tongue.
“Nasty! Clean yaself up, Kale!”
“Fuckin’ gross!”
“Go to the jack-off room, man!”
Kale chuckled and got up to clean himself off with some tissues in his locker. He was just a few feet from the doorway, where Lance stood surreptitiously watching. Kale came to the door and stood there. He stood in the light so his six-pack and his huge cock were plainly visible to Lance.
“Hey, man, I can go again. I can cum as many times as you want, boy, you can jerk me off for hours. I don’t run out…” Kale said with a smile, showing off his dimples. He clucked his tongue like he was trying to be seductive. He sidled up to Lance and thwacked his moist, post-cum cock against Lance’s thigh.
Lance blushed and giggled. “I’m sure you can…” He gave Kale’s dick one long stroke and then walked away. “But you should go to sleep, Kale. You have work to do tomorrow.”
Kale always flirted with him hard like that. Lance enjoyed it, he liked how the men treated him once there no women around. He turned Kale down most of the time because he got possessive when Lance indulged him, and sometimes he was mean. Lance needed to tell him no sometimes to keep him from acting hard.
“Put ya drawers on, Kale, no one wanna look at ya dick!”
“Then look away, man,” Kale said. He waggled his dick between his fingers as he stood there in the light of the doorway, then went back into the barrack.
Lance walked away so they would actually sleep. That was his routine. He watched whoever jack off, then they’d all go to sleep while Lance made sure his own duties were taken care of. If Lance stood there, they’d keep trying to get his attention, so he had to leave to make them sleep.
He came back to the barrack a couple hours later. It was three o’clock in the morning. The roughnecks here worked very hard every single day, so they were sound asleep when they finally got to it. The barrack, Lance noticed, smelled more strongly of sweat — and a tiny bit of blood — than when he had left. That suggested there was a fight, as there often was after he had left.
Lance hadn’t shared a bed with Edgar for a long time. He was older than a lot of the other roughnecks, and he didn’t have a six-pack like many of them did. That mustache like a 70s-porn-star was old-fashioned too, and he had a hairy, grimy body that seemed perpetually dirty, even when he had just walked out of the shower. They called him “Mullet Grandpa”.
Somebody snorted loudly as Lance walked into the barrack. No one was awake, he was pretty sure, or they’d be hissing for him to choose them. Instead the barrack was silent except for the snoring and the grunts of sleeping men. He loved the smell of unwashed men, and that was the scent here in spades. Their workclothes were here, that was why. Even the ones who just showered an hour ago had their unwashed workclothes there by their bunks, and that sent the smell of filthy men to seep into the air of the sleeping quarters.
He went to the column of bunks about halfway into the barrack. This was well into the barrack, away from the doorway, so the emergency lighting didn’t extend here. It was pitch-black.
But Lance knew the barrack very well. He knew where he was going. He silently climbed up to the top bunk. That’s where Edgar’s massive body lay sprawled out as much as he could in the narrow bunkspace. Edgar snored.
He twitched when Lance’s fingers caressed his hairy thighs. Lance reached under the shorts he slept in every night. Edgar had showered right before bed, but he rarely washed those shorts, so they had an intensely musky scent that Lance adored.
“Huh?” Edgar woke up, groggy. His whole body shook.
“Ssssssssh….” Lance murmured. “It’s just me, it’s Lance. It’s really cold in my room, Edgar. Can I sleep with you? Will you keep me warm?” Lance asked it winsomely, like he thought Edgar would probably say no. Lance shivered. He knew Edgar would say yes. The only person in the rig who would say no was Hakim Hafazz, and even he, Lance was pretty sure, would actually say yes if Lance came to him at night — Hakim had told Lance not to try anything, that he would say no, but Lance suspected Hakim only said that because he knew he would give in to temptation if Lance actually did come to him at night. Nevertheless, Lance left him alone out of respect. Besides, there were plenty of men begging to keep Lance warm.
“Huh? Oh…” Edgar grunted. He scooted up against the steel wall of the barrack, laying on his side to give Lance enough room to squeeze in there. His hairy body was thick and fleshy, and his sheets stank of him. Lance inhaled deeply as he buried his face in Edgar’s arms.
It was obvious what was going to happen. Lance wanted it and had done it before. Edgar always said yes. They all let Lance sleep with them when he asked, and they always ended up plowing him in the ass too. Lance didn’t even initiate anything anymore, because it felt better to lay in bed with a man and be seduced rather than do the seduction.
So Lance just laid on his side too, facing Edgar. He nuzzled Edgar’s hairy neck as though going to go to sleep like that. His feet touched Edgar’s and he caressed Edgar’s ankle with his toes.
The men here all swore that they never kissed Lance. They let Lance share their bunk, and they let Lance grope their muscles, and they let Lance jerk them off, and they let Lance lick their ass, and they rammed Lance in the ass when he begged them to — but they all bragged to each other that they didn’t kiss him.
But they were all lying.
“Ssssssssh…” Lance murmured as his kisses traveled up Edgar’s neck to that mustache that Lance adored. He had to muffle a moan. He kissed Edgar on the lips, and Edgar moaned too. His moan was thick and moist like his body, crude, gravelly, loud but so deep it wouldn’t wake anyone up, it just blended in with the whirr of the oil rig’s machinery.
“Baby…” Edgar whispered right in Lance’s ear. “You feel so nice and soft… I love you…” Edgar always said he loved Lance. Lance didn’t mind, even though he knew Edgar didn’t mean it — it was just the feelings that this situation aroused within Edgar, making him feel such intense affection that it seemed like love to him. He plunged his tongue into Lance’s throat.
Lance kissed him back and caressed Edgar’s back the best he could. Edgar’s whole body rubbed over Lance as they made out.
Despite their constant promises otherwise, they all kissed Lance at night — they just didn’t acknowledge it during the day. It was difficult to resist. In the dark, Lance sounded like a woman and he felt like a woman with very small tits, and of course he had no pussy, but he did have an ass he let them fill, which they thought of as better than a pussy anyway.
Edgar mounted Lance’s chest as though to tittyfuck the breasts Lance didn’t have. Edgar always did that, pretending, even kneaded Lance’s flesh to rub it against the sides of his dick, titty-plowing the best he could despite Lance having no breasts. It was a little painful but Lance didn’t mind his rough fingers molding his skin. It didn’t last long anyway. Edgar’s dick was already hard and throbbing as he scooted forward, humping Lance’s chest until he got to his mouth.
It was actually a major feat of balance to get jerked off on one of these bunks. Edgar was so wide and thick that he struggled to sit up on the narrow bunk. He had to clutch the edges with his knees and hands, and in order to get his dick to Lance’s mouth, Edgar had to lean so far forward his head was on the bunk of the man next to him (Osvaldo Ramirez).
His thick dick slipped past Lance’s lips, and the taste of Edgar’s potent manhood overwhelmed Lance’s senses. He opened wide, letting Edgar plow into his throat with all his might. Lance’s hands caressed Edgar’s asscheeks as he humped in the dark.
When he tasted precum, Lance patted Edgar on the ass. He had to do it a couple times, slapping one meaty cheek hard enough to make a loud sound, to get Edgar’s attention. Edgar pulled off his mouth, and Lance took a deep breath as quietly as he could manage.
“Can you ram me? Please… I need it… I need you…” Lance whispered right into Edgar’s ear. Edgar’s whole body shuddered. Lance giggled. “You’re so strong, I wanna feel your dick inside me… Please…” He begged even though he knew there was never any doubt about it. Edgar loved to ram, but he also loved to hear Lance beg for it.
He grunted affirmatively, too horny to actually say anything. He slid down Lance’s body. As he did, his balls dragged over Lance’s belly and even his own cock. Edgar either didn’t notice or didn’t care. He rolled Lance over onto his side again, with Edgar on his side next to him. Edgar was such a thick-bodied man that, even with both of them on their side, his big barrel chest took up most of the space. Lance was near the edge of the bunk. He would have been scared to fall but Edgar wrapped one of his massive arms around Lance’s neck, keeping him in a tight, but loving, chokehold. Lance moaned and licked his bicep, while Edgar scrunched his tall body up to fit in the bunkspace and get his dick lined up with Lance’s ass.
“Damn it, Edgar, get off me!” someone muttered in the bunk on the other side of Edgar’s feet — which had accidentally kicked him as he and Edgar got into position. It was Karl Manderson, who scowled. “Don’t fuckin’ kick me, man, and keep it quiet.” He rotated his body so his head was farther from Edgar’s bunk, that way he wouldn’t hear Edgar and Lance — which was gross — and if Edgar accidentally kicked him again, he would hit his feet, not his head.
Edgar barely noticed. He was uncontrollably horny. He held onto Lance tightly and drilled his dick into his ass. Lance grunted and bit his bicep until Edgar stopped.
“Wait, wait, I didn’t put lube on,” Lance murmured through his pained ass — it really didn’t hurt that bad but he knew if he didn’t react strongly, Edgar would ignore it. Lance made Edgar apply the lube because he liked to feel Edgar showing tenderness towards him.
“I’m sorry, baby, I don’t wanna hurtcha. I wanna make you feel good,” Edgar whispered in Lance’s ear. He slathered gobs of lube onto Lance’s ass, but even then, he only slowed down his penetration. He kept pushing his dick in as he smeared it with lube, and Lance twisted in his arms. Lance would have definitely fallen off the bunk if he weren’t held up by Edgar’s strong arm.
Finally he was fully lubed, and Edgar began plowing hard. He slammed his cock in and out, letting his entire foot-long dick penetrate him, each inch sending a new wave of pleasure through Lance’s body.
Some of the men rammed Lance like they were fucking a disgusting prostitute who was their last choice at the brothel. That style of filthy rutting had its appeal for Lance at times. But he usually preferred to get a man to make sweet love to him. These roughnecks could make love in such a delightfully harsh way that Lance was ready to burst from the moment they started, and Edgar was one of the best.
Edgar knew well how to ram a man fast, good and quietly. His cock plowed pleasure deep into Lance’s body. He used one arm to keep Lance from falling off the edge, while his other spread Lance’s asscheeks wide.
That position didn’t last long though. The more he rammed, the more Edgar pulled Lance in close to him. Lance’s smooth frame really did feel like a girl, Edgar thought, and even his moaning and grunting sounded feminine. Soon, as always happened, Lance lay on his belly on the bunk while Edgar rammed on top of him.
He got pretty loud near the end. He plowed hard, making his bunk wheeze and shake. Both of the men in the bunks beneath him — Waymond right below, and Gooey under him — woke up and sighed, a little disgusted though neither could complain since they had both done the same thing on different occasions. Waymond especially wished he hadn’t woken up because he could hear them plowing just above his head, so close it was almost like they rammed him.
But that loud plowing, rutting like a horse, grunting and groaning with every thrust of his hips into Lance’s body, didn’t last more than a minute or two, so almost no one woke up besides Waymond and Gooey. They were all used to it anyway — Lance got rammed nearly every night. The only question was who would keep him warm.
Cum drained into Lance’s ass, great thick gobs of it that coated his insides and spread within him. Lance let out a long, cringing moan that would have been very loud if he weren’t squashed beneath Edgar’s hairy body.
“Goddamn, boy, yeah, take it, take it, take e’ry drop, boy…” Edgar whispered right into his ear and sucked on Lance’s earlobe, making him shudder and cringe, begging for more.
Lance and Edgar had a particular routine that was special to them. They had never talked about it. But Edgar didn’t want to ram Lance without letting him have a chance to cum too, so when he nutted, he kept his dick in Lance’s ass and lifted him up. Edgar lay on his back then, his dick rapidly limpening and rubbing against Lance’s prostate.
An orgasm was already ripping through Lance’s body. Now that he wasn’t crushed by Edgar’s muscles, Lance wanted to shout but didn’t out of respect for the other roughnecks. It took all of his concentration to avoid being loud. He allowed Edgar to roll him over without even taking his dick out, until Lance was mounted on Edgar’s cock and stroking himself off as he groped Edgar’s chest and nipples.
Edgar was splayed out as Lance orgasmed. Edgar didn’t much care about this — he liked giving Lance an orgasm, of course, both because it made him feel good about himself and because it meant Lance was more likely to do this again, but he was just ready for Lance to be done. So he let Lance feel up his muscles while his sensitive, softening dick filled up Lance’s ass, which dripped cum onto his thighs.
Lance sprayed his wad all over Edgar’s chest. Edgar would have been grossed out, maybe terrified of it, if he could see that happening. He would have freaked out and made Lance stop. He would have never done it if he could see another man’s cock cumming all over him or watch a man’s load coat his belly. But in the dark, nobody could see that was what happened, and Edgar could just close his eyes and enjoy the feelings that arose from his own dick. He pretended that that wasn’t a pool of cum spreading over his hairy chest.
Finally it was over. “Hmmmmm…” Lance sighed. He pulled off Edgar’s dick, which was now limp and spongy, fully spent. Lance had a container of wetnaps he kept with him, which he used to wipe up the cum off Edgar’s dick, chest and thighs.
By then, Edgar was virtually asleep — the cold of the wetnap kept him from actually sleeping, but he was dozing. When Lance finally curled up next to him, wrapping his arms and legs around Edgar’s body to fit between him and the wall, Edgar was sound asleep and snoring again. Lance massaged his chest muscles because he loved the feel of a muscular man’s sleeping body — there was something intensely arousing about that.
Eventually though, Lance was asleep too, deep in the warm embrace of Edgar’s arms. He nuzzled Edgar’s neck and sighed as he drifted off to slumber.
He loved his job. Especially the nights.

The Vintner

Teddy is tending bar when he meets an Italian vintner with a handsome face and a hunky body, plus a need for money that Teddy is all too happy to help with! All Giovanni has to do is give him a taste of his alpha male manhood…

Read it now as an ebook!

The Cholo

Anthony works for a cartel but only in a technical capacity. He’s not a cholo himself, but he does wind up spending the night in a hotel room with one! That means Anthony is in for a night he’ll never remember, as this alpha male ex-con craves a tender touch that Anthony is eager to provide…

Can Anthony handle his bedmate’s unbridled machismo?

Read it now as an ebook!

Or read the whole thing here!

Anthony was glad to be treated like a real Latin Kings cholo now, not just a hanger-on of his brother — his brother Chuy was a high-ranking Latin King. But nowadays, he was helping the cartel’s front business with its computer system, so maybe he was a high-ranking Latin King too. Or at least a ranking one. Computer geeks weren’t really a part of the normal promotion system.
But he had a reputation as a good, loyal soldier of sorts. He was as much a bona fide cartel member as any of the other cholos and vatos could be. They showed him respect, and the lower on the totem pole they were, the more respect they showed, cuz they didn’t know who he was or how important his job was.
It was that reputation as a loyal worker that got him into the security detail for a wedding near the end of the year. Anthony didn’t know any of the people getting married — it was some bigwig señor’s daughter, who married a cholo from the cartel — but he was assigned to security for the event. Mainly, they wanted him to manage the wifi and the cybersecurity for the wedding, since they were quite sure that the law enforcement agencies of at least two countries would have undercover operatives there.
That was why Anthony was at the wedding of two strangers, dressed awkwardly in an ill-fitting suit, alongside a macho named Tejón, a muscle-bound, scar-faced cholo who made Anthony’s whole body quake with both fear and desire. Neither he nor Anthony had a tailored suit like the upper-class cartel leaders who filled the church’s pews.
Tejón was terrifying, to Anthony at least. To everybody else he was invisible. Anthony held his breath whenever Tejón was around — which was pretty much all the time, since he was guarding Anthony.
Before the actual service, Anthony did another quick last-minute review of the wifi and the server for the house.
He found an anomaly on the server. It was impossible to know for sure if it was just a faulty setting on the device, or if it was a relic of some sort of tap-and-trace software that had been installed. It was impossible to keep a wedding like this low-key — the bride’s main desire was for it to be big and public and highly visible — so the guests had all been told to use only their clean, crime-free cell phones. Most people hadn’t even brought one, which Anthony thought was probably wise.
Could have been the FBI trying to get a tracking signal from somebody’s phone. Could have bene another cartel, or the Chinese the Latin Kings did business with.
Anthony worked alongside the other security guys, all of whom were big tough ex-con cholos like Tejón. Most of them did prison time, and Anthony assumed Tejón did too. Those tattoos didn’t look professionally done. Anthony was a thin, reedy man, so he didn’t fit in with them. He looked out of place, and he felt even more out of place than he looked.
Luckily the rest of the wedding went off without a hitch. For a moment it looked like the bride might not show up, and Anthony wondered if this wedding was about to turn bloody, because the groom was getting angry.
But then at last the bride-to-be appeared. She looked radiant in her dress, which was more revealing than Anthony had thought any wedding dress could ever be. Her tits barely fit in it. She looked like the world’s most expensive prostitute, which he strongly suspected was the case. Or at least, she wanted everyone to think she was.
The wedding was over as quickly as it had begun. Anthony watched from the patio, but he couldn’t hear any of the words. It seemed like such a huge production, Anthony thought, for a ceremony that lasted about a minute. It didn’t even mean anything legally. All that mattered was the signing of the marriage certificate afterward. There was no officiant at this wedding, because they didn’t want to invite any outsiders like a priest. The bride and groom just signed the marriage certificate a couple days later with their priest. It was all just a big pointless formality, with the side benefit of it being a great way for the FBI to nab someone.
But Anthony didn’t explain his cynicism to any of the attendees, and he certainly didn’t say anything to Tejón, who glowered and flexed and scowled throughout the ceremony.
As the guests filed off for the reception, Anthony and Tejón headed for the hotel. Their shift was finally done. Anthony wasn’t too happy about sharing a hotel room with Tejón, who was a glowering, bullet-scarred, bull-faced man with a gruff demeanor and seemingly no ability to experience joy. He had shown no emotion during the ceremony. He looked like a cyborg carefully decorated to look like a cholo, Anthony thought.
But there was something alluring about him too. Anthony had changed into his suit with him in the bathroom and seen his powerhouse body then. Anthony only snuck a few peeks at him though. He’d never try anything. Who knows how a freak like Tejón would react?
Anthony was glad he had made it through without offending any of the cartel bosses or having to actually use the gun strapped to his waist. He had a lot less experience with violence than he had let on when he joined the Latin Kings, and he didn’t want that to become obvious in a firefight in front of everyone important. It wasn’t even what he had been hired for — he was just a computer guy — but they had insisted everyone on the security team be armed.
Now he had acquitted himself well, and so far as he could tell, nothing had gone wrong during the wedding. He was beginning to feel like a real gangsta, like he was just like everyone else in the organization. They had treated him like an outsider at the beginning of the day, but by the time the wedding was over, they treated him like one of their own.
The hotel was sumptuous and well-furnished, easily the fanciest hotel Anthony had ever stayed in. The Latin Kings rented rooms for the security guys, and Anthony couldn’t wait to get in the room and relax. He had been up since before dawn this morning, when he and Tejón had inspected the hall for listening devices.
He was so tired now that the adrenaline was no longer pumping through his veins that he didn’t realize until he and Tejón walked into their room that they had only been given a single one-bed hotel room. Tejón apparently saw that as normal and expected, but Anthony did not. He wasn’t sure if he should ask about it or if that would make him look weak.
“One bed,” Anthony murmured softly, to himself, not intending Tejón to hear.
Tejón nodded. “They do that, esé. They don’t think security needs separate beds,” he said, and he clucked his tongue. He shrugged. “It is like prison.” He licked his teeth.
“Oh. Yeah.” That did not make it better for Anthony.
“You scared to share a bed, hombre?” Tejón asked with a sneer. He took off his shirt and shoes, getting ready for a shower. He laughed at Anthony’s lack of comfort with the situation. “You prolly enjoy cuddlin’ wit’ me like a female. You look like the type. Flouncy.”
Anthony shrugged. “Whatever, esé. We’ll see if you can keep your hands off me.” He blushed. He was flouncy, he couldn’t be too upset that Tejón noticed it.
But he didn’t like to get called out like that. In any case, the broad, dark gold muscles of Tejón’s chest attracted Anthony’s gaze, and he didn’t think to look away Tejón saw him staring. His skin was marked with scars and those prison tats. He was what they might call a bugablack — very dark skin, but maybe not quite a full negro by Spanish-speaking standards. Too dark to be a mestizo though.
Tejón scoffed. He dropped his pants and boxers. He flopped his uncut cock between his finger and wiped sweat off his barrel-shaped chest, which was so thick that he overheated easily, especially underneath the suit he had been forced to wear all day. He sighed, glad to be naked finally, and headed into the shower. His powerful asscheeks jiggled up and down with each step.
Not wanting to look like he was scared of Tejón, Anthony hurried back to the room before Tejón was done with his shower. He got naked himself, so he could shower next, and he didn’t want to seem uncomfortable being naked in front of Tejón.
Cholos were like that. He’d seen it around the compound. Once there were no women around…
Well, as an avid admirer of the male physique, Anthony got quite an eyeful on many occasions at the compound. Sometimes a mouthful and often an assful too. He enjoyed visiting the compound.
Tejón came out of the bathroom on his cell phone, trying to convince his girlfriend to give him permission to fuck a whore — there were plenty hanging around the hotel. It did not sound like she was entertaining the possibility. He shouted at her in rapid-fire Spanish. Anthony caught just enough of it to understand the gist of the conversation.
Anthony frowned. The one exciting part of this wedding for Anthony, he thought, was that he thought he was going to get lots of hot cholo meat. It turned out that most of the guys working this wedding had duties nearly the entire weekend, so that wasn’t likely to happen. They were almost all here with their wives anyway. As Tejón finished his hushed conversation with his wife, Anthony headed into the bathroom for his own shower. It was warm and relaxing, and Anthony felt refreshed when he came out.
By the time Anthony was done showering, the sun was going down, and Tejón sat, still naked, on the edge of the bed, watching TV. He flipped aimlessly between the channels as Anthony dried off. He wanted to put shorts on, but he didn’t want to look more self-conscious than Tejón.
But then Anthony had been surprised by the cartel before. One of the other big machos he used to work with revealed that, when he and some buddies had been locked up, they drew straws to see which one of them had to be a bottom, and it had been him. He’d been rammed a couple times a day for most of a year before they were all released. It was widely considered okay or only mildly shameful, as long as he wasn’t pimped out to other prisoners. No one considered it such a big deal.
A punk is a man who gets bitched out to other prisoners. It was shameful to be a punk. Any other role was fine.
As the evening progress, Anthony noticed several times that Tejón snuck glances of Anthony’s smooth ass and pale thighs. Anthony wondered if Tejón’s penetrating glances were a prelude to something. He was so very naked, his big brutish body gleaming, exuding body heat that Anthony both craved and feared. Anthony was naked too, of course, but only because Tejón was first. Anthony was pale and small and thin, and he looked tiny next to Tejón, who took up most of the hotel room, it seemed like.
In the end, nothing happened that evening. Once they were both naked and watching TV, Anthony got less and less nervous. He began to think that Tejón must be naked by default — he was from Latin America, where it was very hot, so maybe he was used to being naked at home, Anthony thought. He and Tejón talked about the wedding, and Tejón complained about his girlfriend’s constant text-message nagging and her refusal to entertain the ‘fuck-a-whore’ proposition Tejón came up with. Tejón earnestly explained that it didn’t count if you were in a different country. Women have a different view of that kind of thing, which Anthony tried to explain. Tejón wanted a reason cheating didn’t count. Women want a man who wants to prove how expansive his definition of cheating is as proof of his devotion to her.
It was all anticlimactic, Anthony thought as he drifted off to sleep. He had been half-expecting the wedding to be interrupted by a hail of gunfire. If this was a movie, something would have happened. The Latin Kings had been dead set on the wedding would go off without a hitch, and they hired the professionals who could make it happen.
He and Tejón were both stark naked, sleeping on top of the covers at first. Anthony instinctually crawled under the blankets around midnight, where Tejón’s body heat was already warming things up. The air outside had gotten quite cold by then, and the air-conditioning was still on, so the inside of the hotel room became ice cold.
Anthony dreamed of a beautiful boy caressing his body. He spooned him from behind and nuzzled the back of his neck. He even fingered his ass and lower back. The warmth radiating off Tejón’s body was enveloping like a blanket, with a hot and spicy scent that made Anthony’s heart race even in his sleep.
In his dreams, Anthony moaned as that beautiful young man, a blond god, some sort of ski instructor, kissed a trail up his spine, fingers teasing Anthony’s sensitive asshole. Anthony squirmed and cried out with desire.
This smooth blond hunk, Anthony realized, was hairy. His chest was smooth but Anthony felt body hair. How did that happen?
He realized with a start that he wasn’t dreaming. It was Tejón’s hairy tattooed cholo body, grinding on Anthony from the side. His hot breath condensing on Anthony’s skin. His hard cock rubbed against Anthony’s thighs and asscheek. Tejón had woken up some time ago and was working himself into a full-fledged erection.
Or maybe he was not entirely awake. His voice sounded blearly, half-asleep, almost drunk, though he wasn’t drinking — the Latin Kings had forbidden it.
“Sssh, do you want it?” Tejón murmured, his voice baritone and echoing in Anthony’s ear.
“Hmmm… Yes!” Anthony whispered as loud as he could whisper.
“I knew it. You looked at me like you was hungry, but what you didn’t know is I’m hungry too. I’m just gonna put the tip in. It will not count. Do not fear, little pale one,” Tejón said in lilting Spanish. His arms were wrapped around Anthony’s body, so if he tightened his muscles, Anthony would be in a chokehold. “If it is in the dark, it does not count. You will still be a man.”
Before Anthony could say anything, Tejón’s dick pushed into his ass. Anthony gasped for air. The pain was so intense he couldn’t bring himself to speak, or even to cry out. The only sound that came from his lips was a sort of exhausted choking cough.
Bolts of pleasure shot up from behind. Anthony squirmed, trying to get in a more comfortable position, but he was trapped under Tejón’s heft.
This had all happened so fast. Anthony was, just moments ago, asleep.
Anthony let out a begging little moan and pushed his ass back, forcing more of Tejón’s dick into his tight body. That sent shivers of pleasure that wracked Anthony’s petite frame. He burst into sweat and let out a series of spine-tingling moans of desire, as Tejón’s cock rocked every inch of his insides. His rough hands roamed over Anthony’s body, while Anthony’s own hands clawed at and massaged the meaty muscles of Tejón’s body.
“Sssh, I will give you a reacharound,” Tejón said, his voice a slumberous groan, muffled because he had covered himself up from head to toe with a blanket. Anthony was buried beneath his warm muscles. That was probably why he had ruled it out when the lights were still on. He had meant it literally when he said it wouldn’t count in the dark. Tejón would do virtually anything with a man as long as no one, not even God, could see. “That means you are my pasivo, it is okay.”
Despite Tejón’s warning, Anthony was still shocked when the older cholo’s fingers wrapped around his cockshaft. Anthony’s dick was already harder than it had ever been, throbbing painfully at just the touch of Tejón’s callused fingertips.
“Tejón…”
“Ssh, you taste so good, my darling,” Tejón whispered as he kissed Anthony on th elips, his voice tremulously baritone, as though he was desperate to get his rocks off. “I will make it feel very good, yes, esé? You are in the cartel now. You are uno narco in this organization…” He said that as though it meant Anthony was supposed to let himself get rammed — did Tejón ram all the new cholos? The more he learned about Latin Kings, the less surprised Anthony would have been by that.
“I don’t…” Anthony was confused about what Tejón was doing, but the bliss that rocked Anthony’s body made it hard to think about it, and all Anthony wanted was to finish this. He cried out and bucked, sweating now beneath the confines of the blankets and Tejón’s heavy body.
His prostate sang, sending waves of sensations to rocket through Anthony’s limbs. His fingers tightened into claws, which dug into the soft mattress of the hotel bed. He buried his face in the cool sheets as Tejón’s hot chest pounded onto his back. The pleasure exploded in Anthony’s ass and ran up his spine. He arched his back, rubbing it against the corded muscles of Tejón’s broad chest.
As Tejón’s dick began sliding in and out of Anthony’s increasingly accommodating ass, the pain gradually diminished. Each thrust converted some of the agony of his huge cock stretching his bottom open to paroxysms of pleasure that made Anthony cry out and beg for more, the sound of which was muffled by the hotel mattress. Anthony’s back arched and a few twinges of pleasure rocked his body, moving from his sensitive asshole and up his spine.
That was enough to send Anthony towards his own orgasm. He grimaced from the pain and pressure as his cockshaft pulsated in Tejón’s hand, which stroked his manhood with tenderness and care, plus plenty of spit and precum as lube — Tejón must have learned well how to lube up with minimal supplies in prison.
Anthony bit his lip to suppress his moan of pleasure at feeling a few drops of precum inside his ass. Tejón’s cock filled him up, and it seemed to grow bigger with each daggering thrust into his insides. Each one raised Anthony to new heights of pleasure.
He didn’t know how long it took then. His ass burned, roiling with intense senations too poent for him to comprehend. It was unlike any ramrodding experience Anthony had ever had, and it made him dizzy with desire. All he could do was cry out and demand more.
The agonizing pleasure in his ass didn’t go away. It actually got worse and worse as Tejón’s powerful hips slammed his cock in and out of Anthony’s ass. Every time he did it hurt worse.
But it also felt good. It felt so good that Anthony began humping his ass backward, pushing onto Tejón’s dick in sync with his gyrations. They rammed there for an amount of time that could have been a minute or it could have been a week, Anthony didn’t know except that he didn’t recall seeing the sun come up.
Eventually it was over. Anthony shot his wad all over Tejón’s hand, while he felt creamy precum spurting up his ass from behind. Huge gobs of jizz sprayed onto the bed in front of Anthony, and the smell of it bloomed like a jungle in the air freshener-scented hotel room.
The orgasm that erupted in Anthony’s ass was so potent it made Anthony shout, loud enough that he wondered if it was audible in the next room — that was inhabited by two other cartel bodyguards, who, Anthony now realized, might be messing around right now just like him and Tejón were.
He hoped so. That was nice to imagine.
Spasms of bliss rocketed up and down Anthony’s spine. He shuddered and grunted into the pillow below beneath him, as his sticky cum spurted across the hotel bedspread. He even drooled onto the pillow, unable to close his mouth because of the outrageous pangs of pleasure that wracked his body.
Anthony had never felt anything like it. He’d gotten rammed in the dark by a lot of men and even a lot of cholos with huge cocks, but nothing had ever made him feel like this, like his whole body was going to rattle into a million little pieces of pure sensation. He gasped and bit the pillow under him.
“Toma mi pene, chico, necesito llenarte con mi hombría. Voy a disparar tanto que sale por tu nariz. Vas a estar oliendo mi esperma cada vez que te tiras un pedo a partir de ahora…” Tejón spoke softly, too quickly for Anthony to make out the words with his rudimentary Spanish — he was distracted by his orgasm anyway, but he could tell Tejón was saying dirty-talk, something about sperm, Anthony heard that. He assumed it was both dirty and romantic, and whatever it was, it made Anthony shudder with desire as he finished his orgasm at last.
He pushed back with his ass when he felt the first few drops of Tejón’s cumload finally hit his ass. He could tell it was going to be big, and he giggled with anticipation — he loved it when men filled his ass with cum.
Tejón grunted in his ear. His hairy chest dragged against Anthony’s back, as he filled Anthony with his frothy cum. He kept plowing even as his dick began to get limp, humping until his wad began to drip down Anthony’s thigh and stain the bedsheets.
Anthony was right — it was a huge load. It just kept on flowing, filling Anthony up, seeping into his flesh until he could virtually taste it from his nose to his toes. He felt Tejón’s manhood suffusing through his body, until it was all he could think about. Tejón gasped just like Anthony did, in plaintive, panty tone, like he was desperate for this orgasm, which went on as long as Anthony’s did.
Creamy wad after creamy wad flew up Anthony’s behind, each one leaving a warm afterglow of sensation deep in Anthony’s body. Tejón shot huge loads, like he had built it up in prison. Or maybe that girlfriend was blueballing him. She was likely provided by the Latin Kings and often found something better to do than take dick from the harsh-eyed scarface with the battering ram for a cock.
Poor guy… Anthony thought to himself.
At last they were done. Anthony fell limp on the bed, breathing a sigh of relief when Tejón finally pulled out of him. Tejón’s sweaty muscles remained curled around Anthony’s body, however, as though he intended to cuddle Anthony to sleep.
“Uh, Tejón?”
“Sssh, just go to sleep,” Tejón said. He rubbed his limp, gooey dick over Anthony’s asscheek.
“Oh… Well…”
“Ssh, baby, my little mamacito,” Tejón mumbled. He sounded like he was nearly asleep as he curled his biceps up with Anthony’s head in the crook of his elbow. He kissed Anthony on the cheek. “Just go to sleep.”
Anthony was so satisfied he couldn’t bring himself to move away, even though he was buried in Tejón’s overly hot flesh. He didn’t want to sleep on the floor either, but that was the only other option. He was just going to have to cuddle with this tattooed beast of a man. It was still cold in the hotel room anyway. Anthony felt warm, but he figured he would soon be shivering if he weren’t in Tejón’s arms tonight.
Besides that, he felt safe and secure in Tejón’s powerful muscles, so he was satisfied as he slowly drifted off to sleep.