showering – Mansploitation

The Fat Mechanic

Bart loves living above an auto repair garage because that means he gets to see the giant stud/studly giant Robby McCardle, a blue-collar hick with a whole lot of meat both upstairs and downstairs! Can Bart tighten his torque to a satisfactory degree?!

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read it soon as an ebook!

Bart Dazzle pulled into the spot across from his building. He wished he didn’t have to park here, but there weren’t many actual parking spots, so usually he had to pull in across the street. That was annoying because of the bird shit — the trees on the other side of the road were apparently full of birds with digestive problems. Whenever Bart parked there, he came out to a car covered in bird shit in the morning.
He didn’t want to complain, because his apartment was great, and very cheap, plus he got a discount on car repairs. Not many people wanted to live in a rickety, drafty apartment above a used car dealership and auto repair shop. It was loud and cold and a mouse magically appeared in his kitchen every time he left some crumbs out even for an hour. That was presumably because of the huge open garage area right underneath his apartment, which must have been crawling with mice. The only saving grace was that he had seen at least two snakes recently. Bart liked snakes, so he didn’t mind and hoped they would eat some of the mice.
The other reason he liked his apartment was Robby McCardle. He was a mechanic at the shop. When Bart got out of his car, Robby was coming out of the garage with a set of keys in his hand.
He was short and squat, powerfully built underneath a massive layer of blubber. He was hairy all over, even onto his back — that was obvious because he wore a sleeveless shirt, and the furry black hairs covering his shoulder poked out from the strap of fabric there. A nest of coarser black hair spilled out of both armpits.
There was a tattoo of a Confederate flag over his chest, plainly visible in the sleeveless camo shirt he wore. More tattoos, including American flags, a recreation of the Iwo Jima landing, the words ‘NECK LIFE, a silhouette of an old woman, several silhouettes of sexy women and a fat but sex Statue of Liberty, all dotted his chest and expansive belly. His fatness jiggled when he moved, and Bart could see the powerful musculature beneath the heft shift along with it.
“I tol’ you I’s gettin’ desperate, sure as shit stinks on Sunday!” Robby said, guffawing at the other mechanics. “When you grow up on a farm, you gotta get in whatever hole-” He stopped because they laughed too hard at him to hear. Robby pumped his hips as though plowing into the air.
“Baah! Baah! Baah!” One of the other mechanics baahed like a sheep.
“Is yo’ mama a sheep?”
“Not no sheep! Nobody fuck a sheep, man, they all covered in wool! I’s talkin’ ‘bout goats, homeboy!” Robby yelled to be heard over the other mechanics. Robby blushed but smiled like he wasn’t bothered. He grabbed his dick through his filthy jeans and wagged it towards the garage. Then he turned around.
He saw Bart and stopped short. He furrowed his bull-like brow.
Bart nodded at him. “Hey. How you doin’?”
Robby bit his lip, making his cheeks jiggle. “Howdy, suh.” He headed over to a Toyota, got in the driver’s seat and backed it into the garage. The mechanics made sounds that were supposed to be a goat getting plowed into by a fat hick, but they didn’t seem to really know what that would sound like. Not that Bart knew what it sounded like either, but he didn’t suppose it was that sort of pornographic grunt-moan that they did loud enough to be audible through the floor when Bart went upstairs to his apartment.
Now Bart was thinking about dicks. In his bathroom, he could hear everything going on below. Normally that was just the radio, switching between country and urban pop stations. But today he heard laughing and more baahing — they seemed to have gone back to sheep-sounds since it was easier to make.
“Damn, that ya female, Fiddle? She is fine-“
“She don’t like white meat, ‘specially not fatback pork!”
“She got ass for days-“
“She ain’t got time for yo’ thickest-hick ass, Robby! She don’t need that tiny cock-“
“Ah shit, you awakened the beast-“
Bart couldn’t make out any more words, but he could tell from the way Fiddle’s voice trailed off that he hadn’t meant to make that tiny-cock joke, and then there were scandalized shouts. Then Fiddle said something about not flashing his girlfriend — obviously they had had this discussion before, and Fiddle had learned Robby’s dick was not tiny at all. He had forgotten, hence the joke.
That made Bart’s heart skipped a beat. Had Robby whipped his dick out to prove it was big?
“He got meat, nigga! That ain’t-“
“It ain’t nothin’, man, quit lookin’ at it-“
“Put ya goddamn dick away, motherfucker! No one wanna see that.”
“That artsy fellah upstairs do…”
“Swear to god, man, you confused a big dick wit’ a big belly. This is a big dick!”
There was another outpouring of scandalized shouts. Bart was beginning to get hard just picturing it. All of those mechanics were at least kind of hot. That was Fiddle who just took his dick out — he was too skinny for Bart’s preference, but he was handsome in his way, and Bart wouldn’t have turned down a roll in the hay with him. It would have been a bony, angular roll, he thought, like making out with a coatrack, but a roll nonetheless.
“…. Circlejerk! … …”
“Ha! Do it!”
“That’s some nasty-ass shit-“
“Bend him over, Fiddle!”
“Don’t touch my motherfuckin’ dick!”
It sounded like possibly more than two had taken their dicks out now, and were they jousting? Or chasing after each other as though they might start jousting, just as a prank? That was what Bart suspected based on the sounds he heard, but he enjoyed imagining them circlejerking.
It all ended unfortunately quickly though. Fiddle’s girlfriend came into the office attached to the garage, and they all politely shut up. There was some scattered laughter, but no one wanted a girl to know they’d been wagging dicks at each other. That’s how rumors get started. Someone must have whispered something funny, because Bart heard snorting and muffled giggling.
After that the radio turned on, and they started doing work again. Bart was annoyed. That had been almost enough to get him hard, then he was blue-balled.
Bart had long wanted to jack off with Robby. He had a great love for doing it with gigantic men like him. But he had never propositioned Robby because he didn’t want to cause an awkward situation with his landlord. If Robby complained, they might evict Bart — Robby could even threaten a lawsuit claiming Bart caused an unsafe working environment.
But now that he had heard Robby complain of being horny — apparently horny enough to (presumably jokingly) imply he would fuck a goat — Bart wondered if he had a better chance than he had thought. If he would jokingly fuck a goat, maybe he would get off wth Bart in the real world.
So Bart went downstairs and told the nice lady behind the counter that his car was making a funny noise. That was accurate. It was a sort of a thwackity-thwackity sound. Bart just didn’t much care, this car was on its last legs anyway.
But the reason he said that was so she would send Robby out to go on a drive with Bart. The shop was almost closed, but Robby said he wanted to find out what the car needed so he could start right away in the morning.
Bart drove off, heading down the country road instead of the highway. He wanted to drive slowly. He pointed out the thwackity-thwackity sound and turned down the radio so it was audible.
“Hmm… I dunno what that might be. Prolly just a loose hose. You gettin’ overheated ever?”
“All the time, man, I get — oh wait, you mean the car? No, the car never gets overheated,” Bart said with a flirtatious laugh. He glanced over at Robby to make sure he wasn’t reacting badly. You never know who’s Christian these days.
Robby had a deep, throaty chuckle, and it made his hefty body shake in the seat he didn’t quite fit in. His arms were well past his own seat and the fleshy thickness of his upper arm rubbed on Bart’s shoulder.
“Well, then it prolly ain’t the coolant system,” Robby said. He lifted up his shirt and scratched his belly, which bared its bigness and the brownish hair that ran in a trail down the center of it.
“Hmmmm…. Are you still seeing that girl?” Bart asked. He hadn’t really seen Robby with any girl, but Robby didn’t know that.
“Who? Elise? Nah? She dumped me. She’s fuckin’ crazy, man.”
“Oh, that sucks,” Bart said. He sighed. “You must be lonely now.”
Robby scoffed. “Whatevuh. I put my dangle out there.”
“Well, you must at least get horny from time to time. Horny enough to fuck a goat.”
Robby blushed and laughed so hard it echoed deafeningly. “Ha! You heard that shit? Can you hear us up in ya place?”
“Mostly I just hear the radio,” Bart said. “You guys love Lynyrd Skynyrd.”
“Yeah we can all agree on them, whenever we argue about the radio we put on Lynyrd Skynyrd and everyone’s happy,” Robby said. “Shit, man, I ain’t really fuck a goat on the farm, okay? There was lots of rumors, y’know, ‘bout this one farmhand we had, and there was this Mexican on the other side of the county, e’ryone said he got caught fuckin’ a piglet.”
“A piglet? That’s like child-rape and bestiality-“
“I know, right?! I don’t think that’s true though. It’s just a rumor. Ain’t no pig farms out there anyways,” Robby said. “I ain’t nevuh fuck a goat, I swear, not one time. I don’t get that drunk.”
“Well, you can get your rocks off more easily than that anyway,” Bart said. He paused as Robby’s mind whirred. Then Bart said, “There’s, y’know… options even without women.”
“Oh, jacking off? Yeah-“
“Yeah, but, uh… with a friend.”
Robby paused. “Oooooooohhh…. Yeah. That… on the farm, y’know… I don’t mess with that shit, but y’know, some of them farmhands… My momma once caught ‘em in a barn doin’ something she wouldn’t tell me about.”
Bart giggled. “It’s fun to imagine…”
“It sound nasty.” His scraggly beard hairs shook as he gruffly grunted and looked away.
Bart cleared his throat. “So… I’d be glad to help you out, y’know.”
“What?”
“If you ever get horny enough, come on upstairs. I’m in the last apartment on the right if you come up the front stairs,” Bart said. “I’ll jack you off with my mouth if you want. You can stick me in the ass, whatever you want.”
“Man, no way. You is into that?” Robby pursed his lips and glared at Bart. “That is… That’s fuckin’ nasty.” He paused. “Man… I ain’t into that nasty shit, nothing personal.”
“Sure, sure, no problem,” Bart said. “Feel free to say no.”
“No.”
“I’ll give you two hundred dollars.”
Robby didn’t answer. He looked out the window. “Man… That’s nasty. I…”
“I’ll swallow your dick so good. I swallow cum too.” Bart paused to lick his lips and run his eyes up and Robby’s expansive frame. “Okay, I can tell you’re wondering — I love your fat. I’m into fat guys. I would love to lick your belly, and I wanna feel it flopping on my head while I get you off-“
“Three hundred bucks.”
“Deal,” Bart said. He pulled back into the shop, where there was a spot now available, so he didn’t have to park across the street. Robby was surprised — he had been so focused on Bart’s offer that he didn’t notice they were heading back. Bart cleared his throat. “You wanna come up to my place?”
“You crazy? Wait till after five. Once them asshats is gone, I’ll sneak up the back stairs,” Robby said. His fat ass heaved out of the car and into the garage without waiting for an answer.
Bart didn’t mind waiting. He got his apartment a little cleaner and queued up some porn on the computer — he made it hardcore interracial gangbang stuff with lots of big black dicks rubbing against each other, because he knew Robby wouldn’t like that.
Sure enough, he scoffed at the sight of it when he finally strode in an hour later. “Man, you ain’t put that shit on for me, didya?”
“Sorry, I don’t know what you like,” Bart said.
Robby pushed past him to type in chicks hardcore and found a video he liked. He bristled when he felt Bart’s hands on his meaty, hairy shoulders. Robby cleared his throat. “I prolly stink like a ferret, man. You want me to shower first?”
“No!” Bart blurted out. “Sorry, I mean… no. Don’t shower. I like ‘em dirty.”
“That’s nasty.”
“That’s nasty?” He pointed to one of the vaginas onscreen. “That’s where babies come from. You stick your dick in there. That’s nasty. You like plowing into a baby factory.”
“A pussy ain’t like a baby factory!” Robby said with a laugh. “You know there’s no baby in there, right?”
“Yeah, I know there’s no baby, literally, I’m just saying… If your kink was fucking women in a toy store surrounded by dolls and pacifiers and shit, people would say that was nasty-“
“It ain’t the same thing!”
Bart giggled. He had gotten Robby so worked up he had barely noticed Bart stroking his dick through his jeans. Now his cock twitched, and he couldn’t help but notice. His eyes opened wide, and his cock throbbed in Bart’s grasp. Bart dropped to his knees, and Robby aimed the computer chair away from the desk so Bart could get his head between those massive thighs.
He stank like the garage downstairs, like cold steel and warm engines rumbling, with the acridity of the oil and fluids that had stained his jeans many times over. The smell brought tears to Bart’s eyes even before he had unzipped them and let Robby’s fat cock flop out.
A lot of fat men have small cocks because most of their shafts’s lengths gets subsumed by the fatty tissue’s growth in their crotch. But Robby didn’t have that body type, or maybe his cock was simply so huge that it still looked big even with much of it swallowed up by his heft. Regardless, a ten-inch slab of thick, veiny, greasy dickmeat flopped out over Bart’s face.
Robby jumped as though it hurt him. His eyes were intently trained on the computer screen, but kept peeking down at his crotch. It was weird, cold, ticklish when Bart’s tongue snaked out.
“Hmmmmm….” Bart let out a moan, then swallowed Robby’s cocktip. He suckled on it loudly, and Robby shook. Bart deep-throated him. Robby leaned back, his face turning red. His hands flailed and his heavy belly shook.
“Goddamn, man… Ah, shit…” Robby hyperventilated like he couldn’t take this. His dick wasn’t even hard yet — though it was rapidly firming up — and he already found himself enjoying this. He had thought he wouldn’t be able to, that he’d be so turned off by the knowledge it was a man’s mouth on his dick that he’d struggle to get hard.
That hadn’t happened at all. His cock throbbed, pulsating in Bart’s throat. Moisture coated his shaft. Bart’s nose nuzzled his fat crotch, that entire girthy dick stretching his throat.
“Shit, man, shit!” Robby opened his eyes wide. He squirmed. He licked his lips. He remembered Bart saying he liked the idea of Robby’s belly flopping over his face, so Robby did so. His girlfriends always made him shower and wash his balls before they’d even think about touching him. It was fun to watch his belly slap Robby’s forehead, leaving a layer of greasy sweat there.
Just as Robby had lost enough of his inhibitions to touch Bart’s forehead and plow down his throat, Bart pulled off and licked his belly. Robby looked at him grossly, but he lifted his shirt up to make it easy. He watched Bart slather his belly with spit, then suck on his manboobs and nipples.
“Ew…” Robby grimaced. He wasn’t ashamed of his body. He was happy and comfortable in his own skin. However, it was a little weird and gross to see a man licking his hairy fatpad, and even slurping the sweat out of his stale armpit hair.
“I wanna taste your fat balls…” Bart whispered right into Robby’s ear, which startled him. He yelped, and his dick twitched in Bart’s hand.
His cock and balls were moist, dripping with saliva and precum. The whole area smelled rank, like a jizz-sock, Bart thought. He loved that. He slurped up as many fluids as he could find, then lowered his head until he could take in Robby’s heavy sac. He swallowed it down, gurgling on the sweaty balls.
The taste was exquisitely raunchy. It tasted like pure dirt, and it was gritty with salt and who-knew-what-else. Robby’s ballsac was so moist with sweat it was like swallowing a mouthful of sweat, like downing a shot of it and gargling on it so it overwhelmed Bart’s senses. He moaned moistly, the sound of which made Robby gag because he could almost taste his own balls.
“Ugh… Man…” Robby grunted. He squirmed on his seat. The hot-chicks porno had stopped, and the browser automatically switched back to the interracial gangbang video again. Robby noticed, but his hands were busy flailing around — he wanted to touch Bart’s head to guide him back to his cock, but that felt too weird; the texture of Bart’s hair made it obvious he was a man, and Robby couldn’t pretend it was a female on his cock.
Finally Bart pulled away from Robby’s balls. He giggled at the shocked look on his face, and he pulled a pubic hair off his lip. “You ready to stick it in me?”
Robby bristled. His machismo wouldn’t let him say no, of course, but he would have rather continued getting jacked off.
That changed when Bart actually turned around and bent over. Robby’s first thought was what were you nervous for? His ass looks like a perfect female- He cut his own thought off because that was horrid to him — Robby was raised to be very religious and to think any masturbation was a sin. His mother would be scandalized if she knew he jacked off even alone, much less with another man (his father wouldn’t, Robby suspected, but only if he knew Robby had been paid — his father resolutely believed men should do whatever it took to avoid going “on the dole”, so he forgave any man for being motivated by poverty to do something immoral — his father would also approve better if Robby lied that he robbed Bart rather than accept the money that had been agreed upon — not that Robby was going to tell either parent about this).
Bart’s ass was smooth and perky like a porno-star. Robby had daydreamed about plowing into asses just like this one. His hole winked like it was begging Robby to do it. In real life, Robby couldn’t get trim girls to look at him, much less offer up their tight little asshole. Robby occasionally got girls as thick as him, and he once had gotten a female to give up the ass — he lied about how often that happened, but it had actually only ever been once, and she had been a nasty fat-ass who stank like a fetid pond.
This was nice, Robby thought but would never admit. He didn’t have to worry about his fat-ass turning the girl off, or about accidentally getting so sweaty she made him stop and shower a second time (which had happened before). He stood up and bent his knees, ramming his dick into Bart’s ass without hesitation — he thought it would be easier if he just did it quickly, like ripping a band-aid off.
At first it was awkward and unpleasant. Robby grunted. Then a surge of pleasure ran up from his cock as it was swallowed up — was Bart pulling it into his ass? Was that possible? Or was Robby’s body working on instinct to get deep in there? — and Bart howled.
He sucked in his breath. “Damn, you got one tight ass…”
“Hmmm… You can ramrod me hard, and let your belly crush me, okay? I wanna feel you on top of me…” Bart whimpered as Robby slowly weighed down on him.
It kept feeling like he was going to really crush Bart, that he’d be turned into a pancake. He was so tiny, and his back was so clean and smooth. Robby felt like he was corrupting something pure as he slipped his cock in, and his hairy belly left a layer of grease and spit on his back.
Robby chuckled. He was going to say something about Bart liking it nasty, but his dick had slid the rest of the way in, his balls slapping against Bart’s asscrack. It felt so good Robby couldn’t quite concentrate enough to say anything.
So he just let out a long low moan. He slapped Bart’s asscheeks because that made him squirm and clench. Robby licked his lips, leaning down with both arms to pin Bart in place as he used all of his weight to slam in and out of Bart’s ass. Pangs of intense pleasure ran up his body.
But the pleasure was even greater for Robby, who writhed in exquisite agony. Wave after wave of prostate orgasm hit him like a truck. He cried out loud, and he was glad there was no one left downstairs because they would have definitely heard.
Bart’s hands turned into claws that dug into the carpet beneath him. The pressure was intense, and still Robby’s cock slammed in and out, shooting load after creamy load of hot cum that coated his insides. Still there was more coming, as though Robby had built up cum he needed to get rid of, and he sprayed it all deep into Bart’s ass.
A little of Robby’s fatty flesh spilled over the side of Bart’s face, so he could turn his head and slurp all the sweat and spit there. It was deliciously flabby, hairy, greasy.
Bart shot his own wad on the carpet. He was laid out flat, squashed by Robby’s hefty body, which still plopped over and over on him even as Robby’s cock fell limp inside him.
“Ah, man, come on….” Robby bit his lip, grabbed Bart by the back of the head and rolled over, so Robby was on his back, his limp dick still in Bart’s ass. Bart struggled stay in position, riding him and massaging his fat belly.
At last, Bart couldn’t take it anymore. He pulled away, but kept slurping Robby’s fat until Robby’s moist dick finally flopped out. That plump load plopped out too as Bart squatted over Robby’s crotch. Robby gagged at the sight of a huge wad of santorum and cum coat his limp dick.
“Shit, man… That’s nasty, you made a big mess…”
Bart giggled and blushed. “I’m sorry. I think you made the mess though.”
Robby belched. “I think I should take a shower.”
“Okay, go ahead,” Bart said. “But I get to watch.”
Robby grumbled but agreed and went in the bathroom. Bart settled down there on the edge of the tub, chasing Robby’s hairy asscheek with his tongue. Robby tried his best to ignore him as he showered, then eventually thwacked his limp dick over Bart’s face a few times.
Bart smiled. He had gotten what he wanted, and he had a feeling he might get it again before too long. Robby was a lot less reluctant now than he had been when they started.
Bart couldn’t wait.

The Boxer

When Avery sees the legendary heavyweight boxer Wallace Stamper in the gym, he takes a chance and makes him an offer — he’ll pay for his gym membership in exchange for a swing on his fat alpha male meat. Can Wallace perform for Avery despite his cornerman trying to stop it?!

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

“C’mon, Wallace, you don’t need this place.”
They turned around and headed back into the locker room. Avery watched from within the locker room, then he headed away from the door so it wasn’t obvious he was eavesdropping.
He resumed mopping the locker room floor — it was his job at the Cornerside Gym, after all. He didn’t look in the direction of the man he was here to find: Wallace
It was always hard to force yourself to “look casual”, but that was what Avery did. He affected a complacent pose, idly sliding the mop about as though he had been at this for hours and had no chance of finishing soon.
A few ropy-muscled black men showered a few feet away, but Avery wasn’t interested in them, and they totally ignored him. A hunky Puerto Rican with a fledgling mustache changed into workout gear on one of the benches. Avery would have loved to jerk him off, but that wasn’t why he had come here.
He had come here to meet Wallace Stamper, the greatest heavyweight boxer in the world. Avery didn’t actually follow the sport, but he was very good and very famous.
And he had a body to die for.
And, it seemed, Wallace couldn’t afford to pay for his gym. His trainer, friend and cornerman followed him into the locker room. That was a handsome Italian man named Valdemaro. He was arousing too, in his way. Like the Puerto Rican, Avery might have jerked him off gladly if there weren’t a grade-A specimen of manhood right next to him. At the moment, though, Avery had eyes only for Wallace Stamper
“Fuck that asshole,” Wallace said with a hostile growl. He shadowboxed the air in the sauna.
“Relax, Wallace, it’s okay,” Valdemaro said. “We’ll work this out. You don’t need a gym to train anyway. We’ll go home and you can punch that mattress. You run home, okay? You run home, I’ll take the bus and meet you there.”
“Shut up, Valdemaro.” Wallace punctuated each word with a punch in the air.
“Come on, don’t be depressed. You’re gonna win on Saturday, I can feel it. With that purse, you’ll be able to pay for the gym membership for years to come,” Valdemaro said. He had a charming grin, but it didn’t look like Wallace was buying his optimism.
Avery pushed between them. He stood in front of Wallace and smiled. He made sure to seem as feminine as possible. “Hi,” he said with an impish smile. “I’m Avery.”
“Nice to meetcha, Avery,” Wallace said. His grumpy face frowned. He was big and thick-chested, with a deep barrel voice like a dragon, and he made Avery shiver in place. Wallace picked up on that. He sneered and sighed, flexing his pecs. “Whatchoo want, man?”
“Uh… I saw your match a little while ago. You’re so good,” Avery said. “You’re a legend.”
“Thank you, sir,” Valdemaro said, touching Avery on the shoulder to get his attention. He tried to hurry him along, to get him away from Wallace.
But Avery just shrugged him off. He smiled flirtatiously at Wallace. “I bet girls throw themselves at you.”
Wallace beamed. “Yeah, kinda. Some. Lotta girls don’t like big guys,” he said. He demonstrated his size by pumping one bicep. He licked his lips and chuckled when Avery grabbed it with both hands and kissed it. Avery licked Wallace’s bicep from his elbow all the way to his shoulder, then he flickered his tongue into Wallace’s sweat-moist armpit.
“Oh, hey, no way, sorry,” Valdemaro said. He pulled Avery away.
Wallace growled. “Shut the fuck up, Valdemaro.” He looked Avery right in the eye, not breaking his gaze. He was such a huge, hulking brute that Avery shivered in fear. His arms were like a stack of pumpkins, his legs thicker than Avery’s whole body, and his ass was thick and juicy like a pair of chicken pot pies. When he moved, his buttcheeks jiggled and his massive pecs shifted up and down with each step.
Despite his trepidation, Avery did not think he was in danger. Wallace looked at him like a hungry man looks at a meal, while Valdemaro continued shooing Avery away. Avery could tell Wallace wanted to bust a nut, but not where anyone could see it, including Valdemaro.
Wallace glanced around. The Puerto Rican was finishing his shower, his long, uncut cock gleaming in the moisture and steamy air. The other men had finished and were walking out the door.
“Wallace, we should go,” Valdemaro said. He kissed the crucifix around his neck. He glared at Avery, then wrapped one arm around Wallace’s wide body, hugging him close and gently pushing him towards the door.
“I said shut the fuck up, Valdemaro. You ain’t in charge of mah dick,” Wallace said. He grabbed his cock through his satin boxing shorts.
“I, uh, I’m in charge of your training, Wallace. That includes your moral development,” Valdemaro said. “I know you know the Bible. Jesus wouldn’t want you doin’ nothin’ you can’t tell ya mama ’bout.”
“Shut the fuck up, Valdemaro. God forgives, don’t he? Even the Cath-olics believe that, right? Confession and shit.”
“That’s not… You have to have real regret in your heart,” Valdemaro said. “Wallace-“
“I’ll pay,” Avery said. He pulled out the three hundred dollars in his pocket. “Is this enough to cover the gym membership?”
Judging from the look on both men’s faces, it was more than enough. Valdemaro snatched it. His Christian morals seemed to have vanished into thin air. He smiled and whistled a jaunty tune. “Okay. You two have fun. I’ll go pay at the front desk.”
He walked away. Wallace grinned at Avery. He glanced at the Puerto Rican, who was oblivious, then he looked at a door on one outer wall of the locker room. He stood up and walked towards it. From the way he walked, it was apparent his cock was already hard. Those giant asscheeks jiggled up and down with each step he took.
“C’mon, girlboy, the sauna’s in here,” Wallace said. He opened the door, and steam billowed out. His hefty body shifted as he slipped in. Avery followed. The heat and humidity hit Avery like a punch to the face.
Wallace had stopped right there by the door, so Avery’s face planted into his mountainous back. His muscles rippled and sweat dripped onto Avery’s lips. He sucked it all up, while Wallace quickly dropped his shorts and stepped out of them. His ass was framed by elastic straps.
He had on those old-fashioned white jockstraps, the strappy, unglamorous kind, dingy and worn with age. Avery moaned at the sight — he hadn’t been expecting that, but now that he saw it, he wanted to suck on it. He pulled it off Wallace’s body and put the whole thing in his mouth. The taste of old funky sweat, soaked in and wildly fragrant, flooded his senses. The jockstrap was so wet it tasted soggy, gritty with salt crystals that remained on the fabric, and the stink of Wallace’s heavy ballsac made Avery’s eyes water, not that that slowed him down at all.
“Oh, damn, you get nasty,” Wallace said. He shook his head and laughed, clutching his belly as though he needed to hold it in and it took all of his muscles to do so.
The jockstrap was sour and salty, and Avery drooled over it. While he loved the taste and the grimy feel of it in his mouth too, the hottest part was Wallace’s reaction, his big squarish face showing equal parts disgust and delight, like he was disgusted that Avery would do such a thing but delighted that his own body fluids would bring someone such joy.
Eventually though, the jockstrap just tasted like spit, and Avery dropped it to the floor. He tweaked each of Wallace’s nipples, making his pecs bounce and Avery’s heart skip a beat. Wallace still had a bemused smile on his face, and he didn’t react to Avery’s fingers on his nipples.
Since he didn’t complain, Avery shifting from tweaking his nipples to sucking on them, while his hands massaged the firmness of Wallace’s torso. His muscles flexed.
“A’ight, prettyboy, you got’cha taste,” Wallace said. “You gonna get me off or what?”
“I definitely am!” Avery said and sunk to his knees, while Wallace plopped his heavy ass down on one of the wooden benches in the sauna. He leaned back and spread his legs. He was so big he took up at least a quarter of the entire sauna, arms outstretched. His balls hung down, cock dangling. He leaned his head back and sighed.
His dick was half-hard already. Avery sensed that he was extremely horny — maybe that cornerman Valderamo prevented him from fucking any women, to keep his testosterone high for fights. His dick jumped right out of his hand when Avery touched it. Wallace gasped and bit his lip. Avery stroked it. It was moist with sweat and condensation from the air, and it twitched as soon as Avery’s fingers danced over his shaft.
“You got nice hands, boy,” Wallace said. “Nice and soft. I like the way yo’ fingers feel.” He didn’t open his eyes. He groaned, chest rumbling, tongue lolling around within his mouth.
“You got a nice cock,” Avery said, whispering like a shy girl.
That made Wallace chuckle and moan. He gently guided Avery’s head down to Wallace’s dick. Avery opened up and swallowed it in one smooth motion, lowering his head until his nose squashed into Wallace’s hairy crotch.
“Goddamn,” Wallace said. “Lordie, fuckin’s hell, fuck…” He gasped and raised his brow. His dick swelled in Avery’s mouth, moisture coating Avery’s tongue with his unwashed flavor. Wallace moaned like he was scratching an itch he’d been waiting to scratch for a long time. His whole body shook, his limbs all flexing and rippling in turn.
Avery’s hands explored Wallace’s broad chest, tweaking his nipples and playing with the network of kinky fur that covered his pecs. He was very hairy for a black man, with coarse hairs coating his pecs and running in a treasure trail down his belly. Wallace’s muscles twitched beneath his touch.
“Hey, you know Roger?” Wallace asked suddenly. He pulled Avery off his cock.
“Who? No. I ain’t from around here,” Avery said. His tongue flickered as he tried to go back to sucking, but Wallace held his head in place, just near enough that he could taste that cock but not actually resume sucking on it.
“Oh he ain’t from around here neither. He from Nashville. But he a… he a sensitive type, like you, with soft fingers like yo’s. He do slurp a nigga nut up.”
“We don’t all know each other.”
Wallace shrugged. “Okay. You handle mah dick better than him, that’s all. And you pay, I like that,” he said. “He just do it fo’s fun.”
Avery furrowed his brow at that. He assumed he needed to pay, but it seemed Wallace would do this for free if he asked nice enough. licked his dickshaft, his tongue tracing the veins that run all the way up from root to tip. Avery could tell that Wallace liked that because his cock spasmed, precum leaking out.
The salty flavor of semen filled Avery’s senses. Wallace continued to talk, telling some story about how Roger jerks him off whenever he’s in Nashville for a fight — Wallace said he never let Valdemaro know about it because Valdemaro was Catholic and snooty and he don’t approve of jacking off, whether alone or with another man. Valdemaro thought a man should save his seed for the marital bed.
“I ain’t nevuh think he was gonna ‘pprove of me dippin into yo’s ass,” Wallace said with a snorting laugh. “Guess he don’t care ’bout none of that if you got the green. Shoulda been tellin’s him all along that Roger be payin’. I thought payin’ fo’ it makes it worse, right? But Roger don’t give a shit. I don’t get Catholics.”
Avery gurgled as he happily sucked. He giggled. Wallace kept talking as though he was having a real conversation, though Avery didn’t respond at all.
“You evuh been to a Catholic mass? Valdemaro took me once. It was weird. I ain’t like it,” Wallace said. “Confession is fuckin’ strange. I ain’t tellin’ some pervuht priest ’bout my sins and shit. That’s between me and God, ya dig?” He leaned his head back and closed his eyes again. “Yo, man, can you suck on my balls a bit? You do that? Winchell Green did that. You know him?”
“I don’t know him,” Avery said, rolling his eyes. He dropped his head between Wallace’s legs and slurped on both of his balls at once. Wallace had heavy, pendulous balls and a hairy sac, which Avery loved. It was slick with sweat and precum, so moist that Avery could slurp the juices off as Wallace groaned.
“Yeah, I ain’t think you would. He in prison. Still there, ‘far as I know,” Wallace said. “He was my cellmate. He licked balls fo’ hours. Some nights he jerk my dick till I nut, then he lick my balls while I play cards or somethin’, then I get hard and he swallow up my dick again.”
“Uh-huh,” Avery said around the balls throbbing in his throat.
“You evuh been in prison, whiteboy? That where you learn this shit?”
“No,” Avery said. He went back to licking Wallace’s cockshaft, working his kisses up and down the veiny underside of his meat.
“Well, you be queen in there, I swear to God. If you was my cellmate, I’d tell you I love you, and I wouldn’t nevuh pimp you out, no way. Not unless you want it,” Wallace said with a chortling laugh. “You give up the ass, right?”
“Yes,” Avery said. His voice was muffled and moistened by the ballsac he kept furiously slurping on, while both hands stroked Wallace’s fat cock. It spasmed in his fingers.
“Then yeah, you be my prison queen,” Wallace said. “Fuckin’ hell. Why don’t girls evuh like suckin’ balls, huh? I ask this girl one time and she say ‘nah’, she say don’t no one suck balls. She say no way, no how, no time, not evuh. Fuckin’sbitch.”
“Uh-huh,” Avery said. He was too aroused to really pay attention to Wallace, who smacked Avery’s asscheeks. He whistled at the sight of their jiggling.
“Hmm-hmm! Hell yeah! Fuckin’ hell. You like big homeboys, right? Huh? I know this homeboy in the Tennessee State Pen’tent’ary. You wanna be his bitch? Shit, you could retire there,” Wallace said with a laugh. “You just gotta commit a state crime, ya dig? You into that?”
“No thanks,” Avery said. He rubbed Wallace’s dick over his face. He kept flickering his tongue out to tease him. Wallace smiled — he liked dragging this out as much as he could. He bent over and stuck his ass in the air. “It doesn’t matter. Just cornhole me, stick it in me, all the way in, as hard as you can….”
“Hell yeah! I will wreck you, whiteboy. You said as hard as I can, you said that and I’s gonna hold you to it, boy!” Wallace cackled and clapped his hands, then he checked the sauna door to be sure no one was coming. His fat cock stuck out from his crotch like an antenna, and then he got behind Avery. His rod stabbed Avery in the small of his back. Wallace had to bend his knees to get his cock low enough to line up with Avery’s asshole, and he wrapped both arms around Avery’s body. “You ready, whiteboy? It’s goin’ in…”
Avery gasped and jerked his head as Wallace’s cock slid into him. Pain exploded in his ass. It lasted only a second though. Wallace spat on his palm and wiped the lube off on his dick, which combined with the slickness of the steam that filled the sauna to make his dick slip right in.
Pressure erupted in his ass, followed by a twinge of pleasure that grew stronger with every passing second. It hurt too, but the pain was overshadowed by the positive sensations wracking his body. Avery slid all the way down. He rarely took such a huge dick that quickly, but Wallace pulled him by the shoulders down. Avery squealed and slipped, losing his balance so his hands and feet were both in the air. Wallace’s powerful body gripped him however, and held him in position atop Wallace’s cock. Neither man moved for a moment.
“So… this do hurt, right? Roger say he like it, but it do hurt. Winchell say it hurt and he don’t like it,” Wallace said. “You look like it hurt.”
Avery bit his lip. The pain was there, he couldn’t deny that, but his prostate was alive too, sending wave after wave of pleasure up Avery’s spine. It was difficult to concentrate enough to say anything at all.
“Yeah. It hurt. But, uh… I like it,” Avery said with grave difficulty. “It feels good too.”
“Why?”
“Uh… Sorry, can you just cornhole me? I can’t really talk right now,” Avery said, his voice clipped and desperate. He breathlessly gasped and flailed at the air in front of his face.
Wallace cackled. “Alright, sorry, man,” he said. “Let’s do this!” He wrapped both of his arms over Avery’s body, holding him tight and close to Wallace’s barrel chest. Then Wallace began to slam his hips up, virtually punching Avery in the ass with his massive cock. Avery let out a yelp that turned into a long, slow moan.
Much to Avery’s surprise, Wallace forced his head to the side. That put Avery’s face atop Wallace’s strapping chest. Wallace bent his head down and kissed Avery right on the lips. His tongue plunged in, and Wallace groaned right into Avery’s mouth. Wallace seemed to have no compunctions about kissing Avery as he slammed him up and down on his cock. He allowed Avery to suck on his upper lip and even lick his face when their fucking became too frenzied to coordinate a kiss. Wallace’s stony face trembled as Avery kissed his cheek and sucked on his grizzled neck.
“Hey! Wallace! You in there!”
“Yeah, Valdemaro! Leave me alone!” Wallace grunted and growled into Avery’s ear.
“Okay. You alright?”
“Yes! Fuck off, Valdemaro!”
There was a long pause. Avery held his breath, barely able to control himself — he wanted to scream and shout the orgasm welling up within him was so tense. But he wasn’t sure how Valdemaro would take it. He bucked his hips back, making Wallace gasp again.
“Are uh… you okay? Uh… other guy? The, uh… white one. You alright?”
Avery heard him and tried to respond, but all that came out was a choked strangle. The door to the sauna opened. Through the steam, Avery saw Valdemaro’s face poke in, but he remained facing away like he couldn’t bear to watch.
“Huh? You ain’t hit him, did you Wallace?” he asked.
“He fine, Valdemaro. Get the fuck out.”
“Yeah. Okay. I am. Okay,” Avery said, the climax boiling so intensely he could barely grunt. He bit his lip and groaned. A wave of bliss flowed through his veins, and Avery’s knees went weak. Wallace supported him in his powerful arms, which were firm with muscle and slick with sweat.
Valdemaro slammed the door shut with an audible sigh. He laughed nervously on the other side of the door, while Wallace kissed Avery some more. He groaned, his tongue lolling over Avery’s face when Wallace become too impassioned to kiss. His balls crawled up in his sac.
“You know you can’t kiss him, right, Wallace? “
“I know, Valdemaro, shut the fuck up! I won’t kiss him! Just go away, Valdemaro!” Wallace bellowed. He pounded on the bench beneath him with one massive fist. Then he kissed Avery again on the lips.
“Okay, sorry. Just… don’t, uh… We’re going to church as soon as we’re done here, Wallace.”
“Fine! Fuck off!” He paused and roared. “I know you still there, Valdemaro, fuck off! I won’t be able to nut wit’ you hecklin’ me from out there.”
“Okay, okay, sorry, I’ll go reserve the punching bag.” He paused. “I’m coming back in five minutes. That’s enough time, plenty enough time to finish up. I’ll dump cold water on you if I have to, Wallace. You need to focus on your training.”
“Valdemaro, if you don’t fuck off right now, I’m going to ram you next. Swear to god, I will shove yo’ mama’s lasagna up yo’ butthole,” Wallace said. “I will take as long as I want to.” Wallace growled into Avery’s ear. “I wouldn’t waste his mama’s lasagna, that shit’s goo-ooood!” He laughed and clapped. “I would take longer than five minutes just to piss him off. If he dump cold water on me, I swear to God I will hold him down so you can ram him. But there ain’t no way I can wait five minutes. You got ass like none other, I swear to God. I will fill you up wit’ my battuh, you gonna be drownin’ in it. You want that? Huh?”
“Yes, please…” Avery moaned. His cock spasmed in his own hand as an orgasm ripped through him. He tightened up and clenched, which was enough to send Wallace over the edge as well.
“Hell yeah, bitch, hell yeah, hell yeah, hell yeah,” Wallace moaned so loud it echoed in the sauna. His muscles all flexed where Avery rested against his back.
Cum sprayed over Avery’s belly at the same time it filled up his ass. Wallace’s hot breath condensed on Avery’s ear, his cum spraying over Avery’s prostate, which accentuated Avery’s own orgasm. Both men roared — Wallace a deep, booming baritone, while Avery lilted out a feminine growl. Waves of pleasure hit Avery hard, and he writhed in Wallace’s powerful arms. Wallace was less expressive, but Avery could feel and hear the burgeoning moan of desire in his chest, which pressed into Avery’s smooth back.
At last Avery was done. A big stinking puddle of cum rested on his thin belly, while Wallace’s meaty body pulsated beneath him. Wad after wad of cum filled Avery up, as though Wallace was piping it in from somewhere.
“Ah, damn, alright, alright, alright,” Wallace said with a chuckle. “You done there. You can get off me.”
Avery haltingly crawled off. Each movement he made sent a wave of both mind-blowing agony and body-melting arousal through his mind. He gasped and struggled to move. He slipped over and over because Wallace’s body was drenched in sweat, and the humid sauna air made everything slick.
Finally Avery crumpled to the ground. He crawled back up onto the bench, where he wrapped his arms over Wallace’s chest. Wallace bristled when he felt Avery’s limp cock press against his thigh, but he didn’t make him stop.
Wallace snorted and sniffled, like he was signaling that he had allowed Avery to cuddle for the maximum amount of time he would accept. He was too polite to tell Avery to let go, but Avery got the message.
Avery grabbed his clothes and hurriedly got dressed. Wallace was much slower. He grabbed his shorts and headed for the door, still naked, his cock not even fully limp yet — it still dripped with his own cum and remnants of Avery’s assjuice.
He opened the door, and there was Valdemaro’s serious-looking gaze.
Then a bucket-load of cold water landed on Wallace’s face, and a few drops hit Avery’s legs — the water was ice-cold. Wallace screamed in shock. Valdemaro said something about God.
Avery slid out of there before a fight developed. It looked like either Valdemaro or Wallace, or both, were about to throw a punch. Avery was done with them both.
But before leaving the gym, he wondered if that Puerto Rican boxer was still around…

The Married Trucker

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

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

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

The Raunchy Trucker

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

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

Three Generations of Honkies

Avery goes with a friend to an awkward family event, only to find himself enchanted by her father, brother and oldest nephew! They’re a trio of hunky studs who just might let Avery swing on their alpha honky meat… as long as the other two don’t know about it!

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Avery lay awoke most of the night. He was dreading tomorrow — it was Thanksgiving, and he planned on spending it with his friend Lenore. That would have been fine on its own. But her family would be there too, and that promised to be awkward. The prospect of meeting who-even-knows how many new people made the whole thing seem like an obligation. It seemed like no big deal when she asked last month if he wanted to come. Her family might be fun, he thought.
And now he had to spend all day with them.
Lenore had not had a relationship with her family until earlier this year, due to an acrimonious divorce that led to her brother siding with her father and Lenore siding with her mother. That was why she had practically begged Avery to come along: Lenore didn’t want to be alone. So he tried not to sulk as he trundled off to her car early in the morning on Thanksgiving. He was sleepy, and he already he was failing to come up with any smalltalk.
He remained quiet the entire way to Citrus Heights, California. Lenore was quiet too, either nervous or just listening to the jazz on the radio. He was half-asleep anyway. By the time they pulled into the parking lot, however, Avery was already starting to brighten up.
Lenore’s mother had passed away a few years ago, and her father, Woody, had reverted to his bachelor ways after his divorce. He was an ex-Army officer with a tattoo of his unit on his belly — a fact that Avery saw when Lenore opened the door and Woody stood there in his boxers, hand at his crotch, scratching his balls. His arms flexed and his pecs rippled as though scratching his nutsack through his raggedy-ass boxer shorts took all of his muscles.
That was how the Thanksgiving began: Lenore screeching, and Woody blearily-eyed glaring at his daughter as his dick flopped out through the fly of his boxers. It was meaty and thick, and it flopped like an uncooked sausage. Woody was a barrel-chested man, his fuzzy fur tinged with gray, his head bald but shaved as well — shaved haphazardly, obviously without the use of a mirror, with slightly longer patches here and there around the sides of his scalp. A mustard stain on his boxers accentuated the bulge of his cock after he casually tucked it away again.
“Dad! Ohmigod, you are humiliating me! Ohmigod! Is this what you do? You hang out in your underpants?! Was Mom the only reason you ever put on pants?”
“Mornin’, sweetcake.”
“Go put some clothes on, Dad!”
He just rolled his eyes and hugged her, much to her chagrin. He shook Avery’s hand. Woody had thick fingers and a muscular grip. He squeezed Avery confidently. He winked too.
Avery blushed, and he looked Woody’s chest up and down. He was furry and broad and strapping, and he smelled a little of sweat, like he had been working out recently, or had simply not showered. Or both. Avery didn’t mind. He appreciated the male aroma.
“Dad, I can tell you cleaned up, but you should have done the baseboards-“
“Sweetcake,” Woody grunted. “It looks fine-“
“I know, but I’ll just get a sponge-“
Again, Woody rolled his eyes. His ass swayed in his boxers as he followed after his daughter, arguing. Avery stayed there at the door to watching his shoulder muscles flex. Again, Avery got the impression he shook his ass for Avery’s benefit. His cheeks were full to bursting out of those paper-thin boxer shorts. The mustard stain looked to have harmed the already cheap fabric, that may be why his cock slipped out.
Where do alphas even find that kind of boxer shorts? So thin you can almost see through them like wet tissue paper. Avery’s dick twitched. He wondered if Lenore had told him she was bringing a friend. He hadn’t seemed surprised to see a stranger.
The rest of the family would be coming soon, and the house was not ready. Avery chuckled under his breath at the sound of Lenore squealing at the realization that her father had still not put on any pants.
“Of course you have to baste it, Dad! Nigella Lawson said it!” She came back into the living room. Avery busied himself by putting the cords, remote controls and DVDs out by the TV all into a stack. That was productive and helpful, he thought; he only wished Lenore had seen him do it. She stormed past with a sponge and an all-purpose cleaner. “Dad! Go put pants on! You have to wear pants to Thanksgiving!”
“You’re as bad as your mother,” he said with a grin. His eyes glanced to Avery, then up the stairs. He scratched his chest casually, but his hand lingered over his nipple, and his pecs bounced.
“Did you need some help picking out an outfit, Mister Myrtle?” Avery asked. He was now certain Woody was hot to trot.
She was awfully insistent I come up here. I bet she knew her dad wanted a piece of male tail on the side. Oh she’s a sly hag… Avery stared daggers at her as he followed Woody up the stairs. He didn’t mind her bringing him as a sort of a toy to keep her father satisfied, but Avery wished she had told him. What if Woody had been fat? That would have been awkward.
“Call me Woody, hoss. Yeah, uh, what color ain’t ya supposed to wear after Labor Day?” Woody asked as they ascended the stairs.
“That’s white, darling,” Avery said. “Nobody wears white to Thanksgiving.” They were up the stairs now. He pulled down Woody’s white boxers to reveal a chunky hairy ass, all muscle and meat and fur. Woody chuckled and stepped out of his boxers without missing a beat. Avery kissed one of his cheeks there in the hall at the top of the stairs. Myrtle fussed over some dumb girlish shit downstairs.
“Damn, boy, did she bring you just to keep me from getting too ornery?”
“A hostess should provide someone to service macho military guys at family gatherings. That’s in Emily Post. Your daughter is a thoughtful girl,” Avery said. “You get jacked off by guys a lot?”
He grunted. “You a take-a-shower-before kinda fruitcake or a take-a-shower-after fruitcake?”
“After.” Avery blushed and laughed. Obviously, he thought, that was a yes: guys who weren’t jacked off by other dudes often would never have known there were those who preferred both showered and unshowered men.
“Gotcha.” He went into the bedroom and flopped onto his bed, which was covered in dirty socks and tee shirts with sweat stains. The bed was unmade, but Avery thought no one actually slept here — Woody probably slept on the couch downstairs most nights. He looked like the drift-off-to-sleep-drunk-on-the-couch kind of divorced man. He flopped his limp dick between his fingers. “Man, in boot camp there was this fellah right off base who’d jack off any soldier who needed it. They just be lining up outside his condo, twirlin’ they dicks in they hands.”
“I bet.”
“But I ain’t mess around with him. The female tail was plentiful back then. It wasn’t till I got assigned to this base in central Alaska, then there wasn’t no females around except this one swishy Indian fella with lips like silk — what are you waiting for?” He snorted and chuckled. “My daughter is gonna come in anytime, demanding I alphabetize my potatoes or something, calling my spice rack racist. So let’s get this done, we might not have much time.” He slapped Avery in the cheek with his dick as Avery leaned over the bed to put it in his mouth. He groaned and scooted closer to the edge.
The doorbell rang. Avery heard more family coming in, and Lenore talking a mile a minute, seemingly apologizing for the state of the house. He slathered Woody’s dick with spit, as it firmed up in his mouth.
“You wanna hit it deep, baby?” Avery asked when it was hard. He rubbed Woody’s cock against his cheeks and chased it with his tongue, teasing Woody by blowing on the wetness on his shaft and making Woody’s whole body shake.
“Ah, man… if a woman asked me that, swear to God, I’d propose to her on the spot,” Woody said with a sigh. He closed his eyes, gripped Avery by the ear and slammed his dick all the way down. “Ah, shit…” Woody moaned.
Normally Avery would try to slow down something like this. Alphas tried to be slow and gentle with women because women demanded it, and men (sometimes) wanted a long-term relationship with them. But that didn’t apply to Avery. So it was up to him to slow his men down or else they’d just dagger his throat like jackrabbits and be done in mere moments.
Today, however, Avery didn’t want to slow down. He sometimes enjoyed letting men really have free reign over his throat, letting them plow into him deeply and letting their balls slap against his chin. He adjusted and loosened his neck to allow every inch of Woody’s cock in there.
“Goddamn, man, hell yeah…” Woody’s throaty voice rang out in Avery’s ear. He held on tight to Avery’s head, but he didn’t sodomize his throat in an aggressive or mean way like some guys. He ground his cock deeply, shaking it, moving his hips and ass in little circles like he needed to make love to every inch of Avery’s spasming throat.
When loud gurgling and sputtering sounds came from Avery’s mouth, Woody warmly shushed him. “Sssssh, it’s okay, boy, I’m cummin’ now, just keep it open for a minute more. You gonna get a good taste in just a sec…” His voice degenerated into a baritone rumble as an orgasm rippled over his hairy chest. He held his breath, keeping Avery’s head impaled on his cock, which spasmed and pulsated in Avery’s neck. Avery’s tongue throbbed against the veiny underside of his dick, where Avery could feel the juices flowing from his balls.
Cum flowed down Avery’s throat. It was creamy and warm and delicious, and he guzzled every drop. He maintained eye contact with Woody the whole time too. Most straight guys closed their eyes when they came in a man’s mouth, so Avery enjoyed Woody’s shocked expression as he orgasmed.
“Shit, boy, goddamn! If I had you back in boot camp, I’d have never bothered hooking up wit’ females,” Woody said with a laugh, shaking his ass beneath Avery’s grasp to make the last few drops of cum slide down Avery’s gullet.
Then, when it was over, Avery sat back and grinned, wiping his face off. Woody’s jaw hung open and he licked his lips. He chuckled, a throaty laugh like a moist mummy, and he wiped his hand through his chest hair. Avery smacked his lips and played with the sensitive, limpening shaft of Woody’s cock.
“Hmmm… Thanks,” Avery said.
“I should be thankin’ you.” He had a low throaty chuckle. “Thank you.” He wiped his dick off with some paper towels. “My son and grandsons are downstairs. And daughter-in-law.” He sighed like he wished his daughter-in-law wasn’t here. “Make sure you don’t let on what we done up here. The younger generations don’t get it.”
Avery mimed zipping his lips shut, then Woody took a quick shower while Avery chose an outfit for him. His cleanest pants were camo, but Avery found a tolerable pair of khakis. They were dirt-colored anyway, so the dirt stains didn’t show. Avery heard the family greeting each other downstairs. A child was in the mix. That was good, he thought, an excellent distraction.
Sure enough, the child — Jason — Woody’s youngest grandson — occupied everyone’s attention. Avery went downstairs met Lenore’s brother Mack, his wife Vanessa and their adult sons Rowan and Shaw, along with, of course, the young one, Mack’s and Vanessa’s five year old Jason. They all watched Jason play with trucks and lose counting games on his mother’s iPad.
Soon, however, conversation became stilted. Everyone watched Jason play like he was a panda at the zoo. Avery tried to make a few jokes, but no one seemed interested in laughing. The dull as drainage Thanksgiving was only ended with a fight breaking out among the brothers.
“You shouldn’t let Jason use the iPad so much,” said Rowan, instantly starting off an argument between him and his brother Shaw. They were both late teens, Rowan just eighteen but Shaw nearly twenty. They both hovered over their nephew, who ignored them, deeply hypnotized by the iPad in his grubby little mitts.
“Just let him play, you loser-“
“It’s bad for him.”
“You’re such a pretentious twat-” Shaw smacked Rowan, who smacked him back.
As Woody came down the stairs in a button-down shirt and dirt-colored khakis, he said, “Hey, you boys knock it off-!”
“Get outta my way!”
“He’s been beggin’ for this for years, I’m gonna kick the moron right out of his brain!”
Avery wanted nothing to do with what was soon to be a fistfight. He did like the men. Woody, his son Mack and Mack’s adult sons Shaw and Rowan. He appreciated the male form, and all four of the Myrtle men had admirable physiques in their own ways. Shaw was handsome and sort of squarish, broad and ox-like, yet clean-cut and dimpled like a new golf ball. Rowan was cute in a skinny basement-dwelling nerd way, not unattractive, as he was a soccer player in good shape, you could just tell he spent most of his non-soccer time playing Minecraft or something dumb like that.
“You piece of shit! Car thief!”
“Oh, now you’re bringing up the Toyota again?! Just get over it, Rowan!”
Shaw was tall and wide-shouldered, with deep dimples and charming green eyes. He was outgoing, with the smarmy charisma of a third-rate politician. After the fight with his brother, he went into the kitchen, where Lenore ignored the fighting and focused on basting the turkey in the oven. When she stood up to explain why her father’s favorite spice blend’s brand and mascot were racist, Shaw belched.
“Oh my god, that was so disgusting, get out of here!” She scowled at her nephew, and he instantly returned to the living room, where Rowan was still fuming about the car Shaw had “stolen”. As Avery settled in with a glass of cider (sadly, it was soft cider), Rowan and Shaw resumed their earlier fight, which was itself a resumption of a previous fight. Little Jason watched and aimlessly banged his trucks together.
“Fight back, pussy!” Shaw and Rowan bumped chests.
“Lay off!” Rowan pushed him to the ground.
“C’mon, fight me! You know you can’t!”
They both wrestled, knocking over the coat-rack by the door and a lamp. Avery backed up out of the way, putting him close to Mack, who picked up Jason and put him on the stairs so he wouldn’t be trampled. Avery felt Mack’s body heat. Mack ignored him, dourly watching his sons fight. He had ceased trying to stop it.
Avery caught Mack’s eye and beckoned as though he needed help with something private. He sort of swept Mack up to nudge him to come along. Mack went with him, and the roar of the battle in the living room went quiet when they went into the garage and shut the door.
“Thanks so for much for your help,” Avery said. He had manipulated Mack with body language and confidence, so Mack realized as he walked into the garage that he didn’t know why he was here.
“What did you need help with?”
“Oh… nothing too difficult,” Avery said. He grinned. “I have a feeling you’d like to get a nut off. Is that right?”
“Shit, hoss, always!” Mack said with a cackle and a whoop.
“So how about I bend over and you plow my ass hard?”
Get off me, Shaw! I’ll kick your ass!
“Oh, damn… Oh…” Mack’s cocky demeanor vanished. He was momentarily nervous. Then he took a deep breath. “Hot damn. Uh, okay…” He paused. “You can’t tell my dad. He’d kick my ass.”
Avery rolled his eyes, but he didn’t say anything.
Mack took a deep breath. “Man… It’s no big deal, just so you know. You’re not my first.” He blushed until his cheeks were the color of cherries. “I, uh… Back in college, my frat had this scavenger hunt thing I had to do, and uh…” He chuckled and blushed. “I was just… It was on my list, and I had to do it, that’s all-“
“You don’t need to explain,” Avery said. He smiled. “Come on, let’s go. If you wanna stick it in me, you gotta stop talking.”
Pulling his own pants down, Mack sat sideways on a riding lawnmower, so he faced Avery. A big dick popped out of his underwear. Avery went for it with his mouth. He planted his lips right on it, and there was a twitch immediately as it flickered into life.
A gasp escaped from Mack’s lips, though he tried to look confident. He was also excessively concerned about noise — his sons still fought in the house, which was much too loud for anyone to hear Mack’s heavy breathing from the garage. But he jumped every time there was a noise, like when Shaw and Rowan knocked stuff over in the living room.
“Hey! That’s enough!” Woody was getting involved now, and Mack pursed his lips shut tightly because the house was suddenly silent. He threw his head back and let out a soundless moan, his open mouth hanging agape, tongue lolling out.
Soon Mack’s dick was hard, and it throbbed as it leaked precum down Avery’s throat. Avery licked the shaft, tracing the trail of the vein that ran up and down the underside of it. Mack let out a long, low-rumbling moan.
“You’re gonna stick it in me too, right?” Avery said because it looked like Mack was planning on cumming like this.
Mack chortled. He removed his baseball cap, ran his fingers through his hair, then put it back. “I dunno, hoss…”
Avery said. “That’s what you agreed to. You wanna back out?”
“No! I just… Just keep your voice down,” Mack said, even though he was the one who was loud.
Avery just kissed Mack on the cocktip, slathering spit on his shaft. “Are you ready ?” Before he gave Mack a chance to answer, Avery got down on his knees and sucked the sweat off Mack’s balls.
Mack gasped and writhed. His muscles all flexed, and he wanted to let out a shout but couldn’t because the family in the living room was being quiet now. They’d hear.
His balls were heavy and full, and Avery loved savoring them. Ballsacs always had such an intense flavor that brought tears to Avery’s eyes as he gurgled and choked on them. That was loud, but only in the immediate vicinity of the lawnmower on which Mack still sat. Mack remained paranoid though, alternating between shushing Avery and loudly gasping nervously.
“I can’t believe this is gonna be my first time putting it up the butt,” Mack said, his voice quavering as Avery pulled off his balls and stroked his dick with one hand. Avery turned around and aimed his ass for Mack’s crotch. Mack sighed. “Girls always say it’s gross. Chicks are all cockteases.”
“Yeah. You should totally stick your dick in dudes instead,” Avery said as he lowered himself onto Mack’s cock.
“You’re not really an unbiased advisor…” Mack said with a chuckle. He leaned way back, like he didn’t want to touch Avery’s body any more than necessary.
That meant it was up to Avery to do most of the actual movement here. He backed his ass up, grimacing at the intense pressure that ate up his focus. He grunted and gritted his teeth. This was especially awkward because Mack just sat there on the lawnmower, watching as Avery struggled to keep his ass in position — he had to kneel over and raise his ass as high as he could make it go.
Avery was just about to tell Mack they needed to try a different position when his ass finally loosened. A loud sigh emanated from deep in Avery’s precum-lubed throat. Mack sighed too, in shock as a surge of pleasure shot up his spine.
“Goddamn, man… Remember my dad can’t find out,” Mack said, his voice wavering like he was on the verge of tears. He whispered even though the TV was on in the living room, drowning out all other potential sounds. There was no way anyone in there could hear unless they stood with their ears literally on the garage door.
Mack’s fingers gingerly gripped Avery’s hips. Mack’s eyes opened wide, and his mouth was agape once more. He couldn’t believe how good this felt. He had hoped it might feel like a woman’s pussy, but he was shocked that it felt so much better. Mack blushed and writhed beneath Avery’s body.
He was so impassioned and aroused that he grabbed Avery’s hips, forgetting that he was trying not to touch Avery any more than absolutely necessary. He held onto Avery’s body and guided him up and down, even as his mind told him not to, that this was too weird.
Mack sighed. If his buddies ever found out about this, he’d never hear the end of it. And if his father found out? As Mack reached a potent orgasm, he was filled with terror that his dad would come in right now and see him — he’d tease Mack about it forever.
But Mack couldn’t help but respond as an incredible orgasm flowed through him. He’d never felt like this. He pounded on his muscular chest and threw his head back with such force that his backwards baseball cap fell off, landing on the lawnmower beneath him.
“Shit, man!” Mack shouted, finally loud enough that people in the living room could have heard it.
Cum flowed into Avery’s ass, great gobs of it that filled him up. Since he was on top, it ran out and down his leg onto the floor of the garage. Avery shot his own wad, but most of it ended up in the body of the lawnmower.
Their orgasm continued for what felt like forever. Mack had never experienced anything like this, but it was old hat for Avery. He let out a long, cringing moan, then leaned back and rubbed his face against Mack’s well-muscled chest.
“Hmmm…” Avery murmured into Mack’s muscular arms, which wrapped around him as both men finished their climaxes and cum seeped out of Avery’s ass onto the floor of the garage and the side of the lawnmower.
They both fell back, limp and exhausted. Avery stretched his weary legs. He didn’t want to leave just yet, but he knew it was only a matter of time before their absences were noted. Avery pulled his pants up and kissed Mack on the neck.
“Thanks,” Mack said. Avery gave him the two hundred dollars he had promised.
“You’re welcome,” Avery said.
Avery went back out to the living room — leaving Mack to breathe heavily and recover in the garage — where he watched little Jason be cute for awhile with the other males. But they were mostly watching a football game, not the kid. Avery quickly lost interest because he hated football. The only part of football he considered exciting was the men — sometimes you could catch a glimpse of their jockstraps. But he wasn’t having much luck with that today, and the menfolk were boring, silently watching the game. The fight between Rowan and Shaw seemed to have ended. They now sat next to each other quietly, meanmugging.
So Avery went into the kitchen to see how Thanksgiving dinner was progressing.
It was, except for the turkey being undercooked and then accidentally dropped on the floor, done.
The women — Lenore and Vanessa, Mack’s wife (and therefore Lenore’s sister-in-law) — had knocked it off the table when a fight began mere seconds before Avery walked in the door. He stood there dumbfounded for a moment, watching the fight and struggling to process what he saw. He’d known Lenore for a long time, and she had never been the type to get into a slapfight.
“Don’t you dare talk about my son!”
“You filthy bitch, you turned my brother into a douche, and you’re trying to raise my nephews to be just as bad!”
“You’re not even a mother, you don’t get to criticize how I raise my son!”
They both tried to hit each other. A loud smacking sound rang out, but Avery couldn’t tell who had made a good hit and who hadn’t. Both women erupted in shouting and insults. Avery was still too shocked to respond right away.
Finally, Avery grabbed Vanessa and pulled her off Lenore just as the kitchen filled with the rest of the menfolk. They were all dumbfounded by the eruption of anger, and even Jason stayed silent and still, hugging his father’s leg.
“You elitist whore!” Lenore screamed. “Just because you’re so vain and self-obsessed as to spend nine hundred dollars on shoes, doesn’t mean I have to!”
“Oh I’m sorry, I don’t steal my shoes from the funerals of obese spinsters,” Vanessa said with a haughty glance at Lenore’s clunky brown shoes.
“You sticky-cunted bitch!”
“I’ll rip your goddamn eyes out!”
Mack stepped forward to intervene. He left his son behind to stand between the two. He put his hands up and said something that Avery couldn’t hear because of the loud shouting of the women.
Avery thought he was being the only responsible one in the room by grabbing little Jason by the hand and taking him out. Woody had the same idea at the same time though, and he scooped Jason up in his arms.
“Grandpa! What are they saying?”
“Nevermind them, they ain’t actin’ like adults,” Woody said. He and Avery went with Jason out to the backyard. Once the door was closed and they couldn’t hear the fight anymore, Avery felt a lot better. He was just about ready for this Thanksgiving to be over.
“No one fights like family,” Avery said, a little awkwardly — he didn’t know what else to say. Jason stood among a bucket of toy cars he had brought to the house. He was outside, and he seemed to realize he was supposed to play with those toys. But he didn’t know how or was too stressed by the fight to do so. Avery cleared his throat as he sat down with Jason and his toys, getting him started. “The turkey is not edible.”
“Yeah… I’ll do something about it.” Woody said. He called in an order for pizza, and then poked his head back inside. “”Hey y’all, hey! Hey! Shut the fuck up for a second! Hey! I ordered a pizza since you dicks have ruined everything. Y’all better pay, and you better give a good tip cuz it’s a holiday.” He slammed the door shut before anyone could respond. He looked at Avery. “It has been a hell of a day.”
“Gotta love your family…” Avery with a wry grin. Now that the fight was over and Avery had played with Jason’s toy cars, Jason had lost his inhibitions — he showed Avery how he was “doing it wrong”, then started playing on his own. Soon the fight faded to a dull roar, and Jason seemed to have forgotten about it.
He thought he was alone, but at some point, Shaw came into the living room.
“Look…” Shaw leaned in and whispered in Avery’s ear. “I need some booty, man… I’ll… give you a reacharound if you let me take you in the garage and plow into you until your asshole falls off.”
Avery sighed and squirmed as Shaw’s hand roamed over his back lightly. Then they both hurried — without walking quickly because people in the house could have been looking — to the garage. Once they got in without being seen, Shaw groaned.
“I knew I ain’t wanna have no Thanksgiving, what a pain! And we won’t even get to eat none of that turkey,” Shaw said as he dropped his pants. He scoffed. “Only pizza place open today is shitty as hell. Vonelli’s, man, fuckin’ awful.” He flopped his limp dick between his legs. “C’mon, hurry up. I’ve been waitin’ for food all day, and I am not missing that pizza.”
It all only took a minute or two for Avery to have his pants around his ankles and for Shaw to jam his still-limp dick into Avery’s ass. He stiffened up, rubbing his cock between his asscheeks. It all happened so quickly that Avery still wasn’t quite ready. His knees remained sore from getting plowed — right here in this garage, on the lawnmower against which Shaw leaned now — earlier, and this was all happening so fast.
“Damn, you’re… in a hurry,” Avery said with a chuckle. Then he bit his lip. Shaw’s cock slammed into him, and he grunted loudly. Avery squirmed and gasped. “Shit!”
“Shush…” Shaw snorted and sighed moistly, the sound resonating in Avery’s ears as he worked himself back on Shaw’s dick. Shaw’s hands roamed over his torso and shoulders, holding Avery in place. He drilled his dick in bit by bit.
“Shit, don’t let my dad or grandpa know about this,” Shaw said. He inhaled deeply of the scent of Avery’s face. “And especially not this.” He gripped Avery’s dick.
Avery was so shocked he couldn’t respond as pangs of pleasure shot through him — he would have never thought someone like Shaw would give him a reacharound. He was pinned between Shaw and the wall, which he clawed at and gasped into.
His hand fumbled with Avery’s cock crudely. It was obvious he had little experience with this. In Shaw’s fraternity, there had been a “rule” that was oft-mentioned: you can cornhole your assigned pledge, but you have to give him a reacharound. Having been on both sides of that equation, Shaw had few inhibitions about it now. Jacking Avery off didn’t even feel any different than jacking himself off, except that he got to plow into Avery’s tight ass at the same time.
An orgasm hit Avery first. He writhed beneath Shaw’s arms and cried out. The most exquisite bliss flowed through his veins as cum flowed into his ass and Shaw sighed into his ear.
“Shit, goddamn,” Shaw said with a sigh. “Thanks, man, I needed that.” The last few drops of cum filled up Avery’s ass.
“Yeah, me too,” Avery said. Shaw kept going, moaning right into Avery’s ear, which he nibbled on too as he gyrated his hips. That turned his cumload into a big frothy mess that dripped down Avery’s legs.
“Hey Grandpa! Pizza’s here! Where’s your wallet?”
“Shaw, c’mon! Pizza!”
“Where’s Avery?”
Shaw moaned, his voice breaking. He swore and slapped Avery’s asscheek as he pulled out. His last few jets of jizz spurted over Avery’s back. “Fuckin’ hell,” he said.
“Shaw!”
“I’m coming!” he shouted, then he laughed. He spoke more quietly. “Or rather… I just came.”
Avery sighed and sat on the cold cement floor of the garage. “You go ahead. I gotta recover. Thanks for lettin’ me come to your house for Thanksgiving,” he said with a bashful smile. He wiped his ass clean with a rag from the garage. “Your family has been gracious hosts.”

The Workers

At this work camp, the men get their needs met one way or another…

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Neil thought the difficult part of this job would be living out in the middle of nowhere — literally. He worked for a mining company’s construction crew, building employee housing and other structures on a remote mountainside in southeastern Alaska. He and his fellow workers had been hired from all over the world and brought here to live in the woods. It would take most of a year to build, but at the end, almost an entire town would exist here where currently there was nothing.
But the isolation and boredom were not that big of a deal. After a few weeks, Neil got used to that. The guys he worked with were loud and outgoing, and more friendly than Neil would have thought. The middle of nowhere was okay when you had a couple dozen guys to live with.
It turned out, however, that the most difficult part of the job was taking a shower. There was no plumbing out here, of course, that was one of the things being built in this work camp. So they had to use a “hygiene tent” for showering.
The hygiene tent was simply a large, ordinary tent outside of camp, just like the tents Neil and the other workers lived in. The only thing that made the hygiene tent special was that it was rigged up with hoses as showerheads and had a constant campfire with coals out front to heat up the water before showers. It was living rough, but it was pretty nice as far as living rough went. Neil liked to camp, so it seemed fine to him, in the abstract.
It was difficult in practice, however, because Neil had to shower with others.
The idea hadn’t bothered him — he was on the baseball team in college, so he was used to changing in a group. But it was different here. In college, everyone had been embarrassed. They got naked as little as possible and they tried to avoid looking at each other. They showered as far away from each other as possible, without talking, and as quickly as they could. Nobody looked at each other’s cocks. Even hinting that you might have seen a buddy’s penis was considered an unpardonable offense.
Here, the men were older, rougher, many of them having spent time in prison. Others had been homeless for a time, some were recovering drug addicts, and one had spent years doing missionary work in Honduras. They were not self-conscious at all. Some of them got naked as soon as work was done for the day, and they just sat around drinking beer and scratching their balls.
That was not something Neil had ever experienced before. They thought nothing of it, just dropping trou and letting it all hang out. One man even had a big scar on his dick — Neil didn’t notice at first, of course, because he didn’t look, but then the others kept making jokes about how that man’s cock had been torn off by some “crazy chick”. Neil couldn’t help but look, it was just a joke, his cock was there, but scarred.
“Man, if a girl showed up here, swear to God… I don’t even care how crazy she is, I’d fuck the shit outta any female who gives up the pussy. She could be as fat as all hell, more cushion for the pushin’!”
“My pops used to do this kind of work, he said they used to send prostitutes to live here too. They were just part of the crew. Ain’t allowed to do that no mo’.”
Neil wasn’t used to people talking like that. He was from a nice middle-class household. Nobody spoke of prostitutes openly (or even in secret), and they certainly didn’t sit around stark naked. He tried to pretend to fit in though. The one time he got made fun of was when he saw two Confederate-flag-tatted rednecks take their limp cocks out and sword-fight with each other.
A gasp escaped from Neil’s lips at the sight of their rough old-man cocks rubbing against each other. Neil blushed — he probably seemed like some Victorian-era elite, ready to flop onto a fainting couch. Neil hated that he came across that way, but he couldn’t help it. This was gross and unsanitary, and he didn’t care who knew he felt that way. “You’re touching dicks!”
“You never touched a man’s cock before?”
“Check out the lily-livered pussy! Hey, you scared of a real man’s dick!”
“No!” Neil said, blushing. “I just don’t cotton to touching other men’s cocks.”
“Well, shit, you just wait for Rob to show up. He’ll set ya straight.”
“Rob’ll swallow you til you come out the other end, boy! He’ll rock ya world!”
Neil didn’t want to ask who Rob was. He was picturing some giant hillbilly who would make him ‘do things’ at night. He was already picturing himself squealing like a piggie.
But instead, Rob turned out to be a slim, delicate man with a flirtatious lilt to his voice and a feminine hourglass-shape to his body. He came to every work camp in the area, it seemed, and he helped the men get a nut off and relieve their stiffies. It sounded disgusting to Neil, but he took it in stride.
The tradition was called the Power Shower — that was why Rob came to this camp. Every man in the camp was “required” to let a man jack him off in the hygiene tent. Depending on who you asked, it was either a rule every day, every week, every month or just once in a lifetime. They all said men worked better once they had drained their nuts, and management didn’t want them swaggering into town on leave with swollen balls and Roman hands.
The weirdo, Rob, who presumably was hired to service the roughnecks, was supposed to do it at night, when everyone else was asleep. That meant there was no way to verify it, but they all treated it like a requirement.
He planned on lying about it. He waited for a night when nobody was up late, figuring he could claim it had happened that night and nobody would believe him. A few others had made it pretty clear they didn’t do it even though it was “required”, so it was obviously not a real requirement. Neil fully intended to just make it up. Nobody could prove or disprove it happened. A lot of the other workers did accuse each other of faking it, of being impotent, of being cowards, and they all denied it. Each roughneck would have to do or do not, or lie or lie not, as he saw fit. Rob had made it clear he wouldn’t confirm or deny that anyone had done it. Rob did say it was a requirement, that he was promised every roughneck cock in the camp, but he did not claim that everyone actually did it.
So that was Neil’s plan. He’d wait until he fit in better, and then he’d say he did, but he’d say it had happened a few weeks before, like it was no big deal at all at the time. A lot of them treated it like that, as though they got jerked off by men all the time (which, Neil supposed, was possibly true).
But that wasn’t how it turned out at all. Neil never got a chance to pretend it had happened. Before he even knew what was happening, he had done it.
Neil woke up one morning early — he was the only man in camp who occasionally woke up before dawn — and stumbled out to take a piss. He realized Rob was there, cooking breakfast over an open fire. Neil nodded a bleary-eyed hello at him.
And then he realized he was so horny his balls could burst. He’d been stressed out since getting here, but only now felt comfortable enough to realize how horny he was. He wanted to fuck more than anything. He’d had a sexy dream that he only half-remembered, but the part he remembered was that he nearly got to fuck a woman. He woke up right before the sex began, and now he was more horny than he’d been in a long time.
Damn, he wanted to fuck.
Respectfully. With a respectful manner towards the woman. As part of a dutiful relationship. Neil gulped.
His ex was in that dream. Claire was her name, she was blonde as the sun, with tits like… and a personality Neil appreciated. She was smart. A college graduate. She was so hot the thought of her made his dick throb. He wished he’d had a wet dream. When he was a younger man, if he had a dream like that, he absolutely would have. He’d have woken up mid-orgasm, cum spurting over his chest and belly.
But nowadays, he needed some real stimulation.
Rob looked at him and winked. “Hey,” he said. He stood at an angle, like a woman waiting to be asked to dance. He was fey and limp-wristed, and Neil didn’t much want to get to know him. He wondered how much Rob got paid for doing this shit. He didn’t ask though. It must be a lot.
Neil grunted. He decided to go take a shower in the hygiene tent to calm down. A cold shower would help.
I bet Rob swallows dick all the way down. Girls don’t really deep-throat, but that weirdo probably does.
He tried not to think about that. He went into the shower tent and turned on the hot water. He liked showering early because there was plenty of hot water. The coals had been burning all night, and the water bubbled away outside the hygiene tent
He turned around, and saw Rob standing in front of him. Rob grinned. “Hey,” he said again. “Are you ready for your Power Shower?”
“Uh…” Neil wanted to say no, but he couldn’t think of a reason to refuse. He wanted a nut so bad it hurt. Just thinking about it made his dick twitch. No one would know. Rob probably wouldn’t say, and even if he did, he often made grandiose claims as a joke. Rob claimed that guy Cooter had a sixteen-inch cock, and they all saw in the shower that it wasn’t that. Nobody would just believe Rob automatically.
A jolt of realization flooded Neil — a lot of guys left it unclear whether they had done it or merely joked about doing it, or whether they did it willingly or only because there was a “rule”. That vagueness, he thought, must be because they were all as uncertain about it as Neil. Nobody could ever be criticized for it if it was never clear who had done it or not.
So there was no reason not to do it. No one would know. Neil could do it here in the dark, and it’d be like it never happened.
By the time he had talked himself into it, Neil felt his dick disappearing into Rob’s mouth. The dim light of the hygiene tent made it seem a lot easier because Neil could easily pretend it was a girl on his cock. A woman. A respectful, respectable woman, whom Neil respected. Unlike these other roughnecks, Neil went to college, and he wanted to act like it.
A soft warmth suffused his body, and the stresses drifted out with each one of his rapidly hastening breath. Pleasure erupted through his veins. Neil’s knees almost buckled, and he held onto the fabric wall of the hygiene tent until that made the whole thing shake. He let go.
“Oh shit…” Neil tried to stay quiet, but his breathing grew jagged and harsh as his dick rocketed to full erection. Little spams of sensations wracked his muscular frame, and his hands tightened into claws that dug at the air around him. He clenched his teeth. “Daaaaamn…”
He’d never had felt like this. He hadn’t realized it until now, but he suspected that no girl had ever really wanted to give him a blowjob — they did it to be nice, or as foreplay, but not because they loved sucking dick.
Rob, it was obvious, actually loved the taste of dick. He deep-throated Neil’s cock until his nose nuzzled Neil’s pubic hair. Flashes of intense ecstasy shot up Neil’s spine, and he sucked in his breath. Neil shifted his weight around, as it felt so good it was kind of cunfomortable.
He was on the verge of orgasm right away. If he weren’t nervous and focused on trying to be quiet, he would have blown his wad immediately. He was glad to take a little longer because it would have been embarrassing otherwise. Real men don’t blow their nut too quickly.
Neil found himself gripping Rob’s head and feeding his dick down his throat. He had never done anything like that. He threw his head back and nearly howled like a wolf — he managed to swallow the sound, so he just screwed up his mouth and face as he opened his mouth.
Then, at last, an orgasm ripped through him. Cum sprayed down Rob’s throat and into his belly. The most intense pleasure of Neil’s life flowed like a flood in his veins, and his knees buckled.
“Goddamn…” A second fat load of jizz spurted into Rob, as Neil’s cock slowly slid out. Neil’s whole body undulated when he choked, which massaged another final long spurt of cum. A long chest-rattled moan came from Neil, and a murky gurgling groan of desire came Rob, as he slurped down every drop of cum he could get at.
Rob pulled off his dick. He wiped his lips off. “Lemme guess… lacrosse?”
“What?” Neil was breathless and exhausted.
“Which sport did you play in college? Was it lacrosse? I’m trying to develop a talent for guessing sports based on cum flavor,” Rob said. He laughed. “You taste like a lacrosse jock.”
Neil blushed. “Oh, well… I played baseball more, but yeah, I went to a Maryland prep school, we were required to play lacrosse too. I’m more of a baseball guy, I played baseball in college.”
“I’ll count that one as a win,” Rob said. He stood and stretched his knees. He wiped cum off his face, then he slurped up what he could get off the back of his hand. “You can thank me now.”
“Thanks.”
“And now you get to watch my ass as I walk away,” Rob said. He swayed his hips as he walked out of the shower tent. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone you did it.”
Rob walked away with a spring in his step. He hadn’t expected Neil to be that horny so soon, but he was glad to have taken advantage of it. Most guys took a few months to succumb. But Neil was younger than most, Rob thought, so he probably had virile balls, loaded with cum. Rob had a sixth sense about which workers were likely to give up the dick soon, and for tonight, he had his eyes set on a rough-faced worker named Dog Barren.
Dog lead a daily prayer before dinner. The others rolled their eyes at it, but it seemed no one wanted to be the one who didn’t pray before dinner. This was a Christian work crew. So Dog had everyone hold hands in a circle, while he led them all in a prayer. He remained shirtless, his broad, smooth body covered in the day’s sweat. One of the things that made him intimidating — aside from his muscles and his size — was the swastika and nazi tattoos all over him. During the prayer, that was all Rob could think about.
“I ain’t no nazi,” he had said when he first took his shirt off. His voice was a flat growl, like his throat was lined with razorblades, and he always sounded like he had more to say but wasn’t allowed to say it. “I was in prison. I’s gettin’ ’em removed.” Most of the swastikas were now just faded scars or outlines that hadn’t yet been fully lasered off. One dragon on his bicep was clearly the number 88 that had been turned into a pair of talons, with the dragon drawn to attach to them. “I’s on the Christian road now.”
But alas, he thought, it would never happen. Dog had said no way. He wouldn’t do anything motivated by lust. He saved his seed for a Christian wife. He didn’t say that like he believed it, but he did say it, and he was one of the few roughnecks who had not yet come to Rob in the night.
He was almost ready to give up here and move onto a different camp. A bunch of lumberjacks had set up near Bend, and he could head over there — a lot of them were Latinos who loved ramrodding pasivos. The only reason he didn’t leave was that it was raining, and had been for days, so the ground was muddy. That would make it difficult to get out to the remote lumberjack camp and even more difficult to set up a tent out there.
So Rob stayed. He slept near the hygiene tent. He was a light sleeper, so when someone went in there and turned on the water, he always woke up. That was a signal that someone wanted his mouth.
Today, however, when he went in there just before dawn, he was surprised to see Dog Barren standing alone in the shower water. A long tanned dick dangled between his legs. It was fat and juicy, and it drew Rob’s attention right away.
“Hey. Oh. Hi, sorry,” Rob said. His heart beat. He still didn’t entirely trust that Dog was no longer a nazi. “I just… I didn’t know it was you. Normally people only come out here before dawn if they want a Power Shower. I-“
“Shut up.” Dog chewed on his lower lip. He came closer to Rob.
“Okay. That’s fine.” Rob’s heart quickened, and he took a step back.
“Hmm-hmm. I know it’s fine.” He paused for a long time. He looked Rob up and down. He seemed to angle his body to make sure Rob saw his cock and balls in the battery-operated light of the hygiene tent, but Rob couldn’t tell if that was deliberate or not.
“Oh.”
“Come here,” he said. Rob came closer, and Dog put one heavy hand on his shoulder. He pushed down gently. “What happens at night, once the lights go off… That don’t count. God forgives anything that happens in the dark.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“So why don’t you get on your knees and see what happens.”
“Oh… Okay.” Rob dropped to his knees. Am I really about to jerk off a Nazi? Or a possible-Nazi at least?
But before Rob could second-guess himself, his mouth was pried open, and Dog’s fat cock slipped into his mouth. It was cool from the night air, and limp at first.
It firmed up in seconds though. Dog groaned and murmured. He held onto Rob’s head and fed his cock in until he was all the way down Rob’s throat, and Rob’s tongue snaked out to teasingly touch his balls.
“You see, it ain’t a sin if ya know all the rules,” Dog said. “Like… in the dark, it’s alright to relieve ya sins, and I’m-a do somethin’ else to make it okay.” He pulled his cock out of Rob’s mouth. “But first, boy, I wanna make sure you got discretion. Huh?”
“Yeah-“
Dog grabbed him by the neck with one hand. “That ain’t sound serious. You just said yeah like some slack slut who ain’t think this was important. But I is askin’ you as a Christian to put ya name on a promise before God. Ya feel me?” He smiled and placed one of Rob’s hands on his chest. His pecs flexed beneath Rob’s fingers. “So don’t just mumble yeah wit’out thinkin’. You gonna keep this a secret?”
“Yes, sir,” Rob said, his voice thready and nervous.
“Good. Now bend over on all fours. No talking unless I ask you a question or tell you to do somethin’. Got that?”
“Yes, sir-“
“Don’t call me sir, I ain’t a prison guard,” he said. “Now shut your mouth.”
A jolt of pain shot up Rob’s spine as Dog’s cock rammed into his ass. Dog was tight and struggled to take it all, but he soon felt a surge of pleasure in his bones. He grunted lightly and Dog lightly grabbed the back of his head.
“Shush, no talkin’.”
That made it difficult for Rob. He couldn’t even grunt or moan, even as Dog made loud slurping sounds and chewed on his lip, while his cock gurgled in and out of Rob’s ass. His precum made for a moist sound that filled the air of the shower tent.
Then, before Rob even knew what had happened, Dog had reached around him and grabbed his cock.
“It ain’t no sin if you give a reacharound. Cuz it ain’t motivated purely by lust, ya feel me? Ya doin’ it for a good reason, to make some boy feel good. You pickin’ up what I’m puttin’ down?”
“Yes.” Rob could barely think. The pressure in his ass was potent, and his cock throbbed in Dog’s grasp. Agonizing pleasure shot up Rob’s spine. He nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, uh, yes, I get it. Oh god! Oh god-“
“No talkin’,” Dog said. “I won’t kiss you on the lips, boy. Don’t even ask.” His voice trailed off as he lowered his body onto Rob’s back. Then, despite his words, he forced Rob’s head to the side and kissed him on the lips as his muscles all flexed against Rob’s back.
“Ah…”
“Shush, boy, I ain’t ask you no question,” Dog said. He pinned Rob flat on the wooden floor of the shower tent, pounding and grinding away at his ass while stroking his dick with one hand. Rob had never experienced anything like this. “You love my dick inside you, huh? Say you love my dick inside you, boy.”
“I love your dick inside me,” Rob said. His voice broke as though he was almost in tears, but it was his orgasm breaking inside him. He struggled not to cry out passionately, and when he was unable to control himself, the sound was swallowed up by another kiss from Dog’s mouth.
Dog pulled off as he shot his own wad into Rob’s ass. He opened his mouth, hot breath condensing onto Rob’s cheek. “I won’t ever kiss you, boy, don’t even try.” He slathered Rob in kisses, his cum filling Rob’s with creamy, sticky goodness.
Finally they were both done. Dog stayed in place, his cock limpening inside Rob for a few minutes. At last, every drop of cum had leaked out. He pulled his dick out and spread Rob’s cheeks. He peered at the gaping cream-filled hole the best he could in the dim light of the shower tent.
“I think I love you, boy,” Dog said. “But only for right now. You’s a sinner, and in the light of the Lord’s dear sun, you will soon bask in rays of truth.”
“Uh-huh.”
Dog grunted. “Don’t move, boy. I don’t wanna see you spill a drop. Let my nut fill you up all inside, that way you don’t forget the message I been givin’ you.” He paused. “Yeah, this was a message, boy, a message about religion. You best find yaself the Holy Spirit in ya heart and get forgiveness. Me? I already been forgived, ya feel me?”
“Yeah,” Rob said, too tired to really think about what he was saying.
After a long pause, Dog grabbed the clothes he had come in with. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it. Then he said, “You stay here ten minutes to think about what you done. Not just tonight, all the things you done. I’m goin’ to bed.” He paused. “Bring lube tomorrow night.” Then he walked away without waiting for a response.
“I will.” Rob was dazed and exhausted, yet so satisfied he thought he might never leave. These, he thought, were the workers for him.

The Truck Stop

Charlie is a football player on the road with his college team when he stumbles across a notorious cruising spot, where his coach shows him the ropes… Coach Thickman introduces Charlie to an exciting world of man-on-man truck stop action!

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Charlie Smitkowski nervously got out of the van and stretched in the truck stop parking lot. His teammates all seemed so confident, but he didn’t know how they could be. He certainly didn’t feel confident here. He never did.
For one thing, he was nervous he would get hard in the shower. Thinking about it did give him a stiffy, or at least it made his dick twitch like it might get stiff. Maybe that wasn’t a reasonable fear — he had never gotten hard in the group shower back in the GHU athletic building. But he would be nervous here, naked among strangers instead of his teammates.
The GHU football team scattered towards the showerhouse. Charlie gulped. He was glad to be out of the van, which stank of his teammates’s sweat. They had spent the last three hours in the van.
There were only two universities in Wyoming with football fields, so Charlie and his teammates made this day and a half voyage by van often, every time they played the other team. They always stayed in a hotel halfway there, but that hotel — the only option for many miles around — had little to no hot water. They claimed they did, but the showers either didn’t work, didn’t spray hot water or sprayed only brown, muddy water.
So no one ever showered there at the motel. They stopped at the Ramwide Truck Stop to shower instead.
But it wasn’t just his team. Old men showered there, rednecks, black men, bikers, old men, Latinos with tattoos and bullet wounds — it was scary. This was a rural area, but one that was right off a highway with a lot of truck traffic. The truck stop was busy even out here in the middle of nowhere.
But Charlie felt compelled not to let on that he was scared. He didn’t want to be the only one on the team who felt that way. He’d look like the biggest pussy in the world. None of the other players seemed nervous about it. They were all nonchalant, like they showered with dozens of naked strangers every day.
So he hung back. He tried to steel his nerves. He went into the showerhouse after his teammates, thinking he’d feel more comfortable that way.
A fat cock sat stared at him. Charlie backed out in a panic. There was a man changing in there, a naked white man with a shaved head and a vaguely nazi look, his huge white dick dangling just a few feet from the door. He made a kissy face at Charlie, who turned tail as he heard the man laugh.
Not wanting to look frightened, Charlie went to the vending machines. He made it look like he simply decided to drink a bottle of iced tea before going in the showerhouse.
He wondered if he could get away with not showering. It’s not like anyone was watching to make sure. He didn’t think he stank, and he hadn’t been sweating very much. He could shower in Cheyenne anyway — he never really got why they bothered showering here in the truck stop, when they’d all go straight to the visitors’s locker room in Cheyenne as soon as they got there. It was just instinct and habit, he guessed, that made his teammates shower in the morning. Nobody wanted to be the stinkbutt who didn’t shower, and nobody wanted to look like a squeamish punk unwilling to get naked in front of other men.
He hurried around the back of the showerhouse, hoping to relax out of view for a moment. The woods behind the truck stop were dense with foliage, so Charlie couldn’t see more than a few feet away. There was a patch of no-man’s-land between the showerhouse and the highway, which was where Charlie headed.
A path was there, blocked by shrubbery so it wasn’t visible until Charlie was in that patch of scrubby forest. It wasn’t a marked path, just a beaten route in the dirt. Charlie took a few steps down it, curious why there was a trail out here.
“Hmmm-hmm…” That was Coach Thickman’s voice.
Charlie gulped. He crept closer. When he got around a tree, he saw Coach Thickman — a hefty, broad-chested black man with a scruffy beard and a shaved head — with his pants around his ankles. He held onto the scalp of a thin white man as he rammed his dick into the man’s throat.
Charlie gasped. He wanted to run away, he felt an instinctual need to leave.
But he also couldn’t quite bear to stop watching. He wanted to see what happened. His eyes opened wide. He had never seen anything like this.
Coach Thickman looked confident — he always did, he was swaggerous, dominant, tough. He had a powerful body, thick as anything, with a hairy chest for a black man. He taught “industrial arts” and coached the basketball team. He often came out on football team trips too, which he said was because he wanted to support them but probably was because he could use the overtime. He had a cocky strut that Charlie had always found exciting, exhilirating, even arousing.
That was how Charlie wished he could carry himself. Coach Thickman’s heavy balls slapped against the man’s chin as he humped his cock down the man’s throat. Thickman let out a little bristly moan too, and he murmured some soft nothings as he pounded away.
The white man swallowing Coach’s cock was Avery, the team manager and a junior at the college. He came here frequently to cruise, so it was a happy coincidence that the team would be here too.
They were mostly truckers, Southern men with huge cocks and musky bodies. Avery would lick them clean like a cat if they let him. Coach Thickman’s foot-long cock throbbed veinily in Avery’s mouth. The sour-salty flavor of precum coated his tongue and throat, as he swallowed every inch of that massive shaft.
“Hmmm… Come on, open up,” Coach Thickman murmured. He used both hands to keep Avery’s head in place. He didn’t pound into Avery’s throat violently. He focused on grinding his dick deeply in Avery’s gullet, continuing even when he felt resistance and gagging. Thickman knew well how to throat a man down, and Avery was an expert in accepting massive alpha male cocks.
Intense pleasure rocketed through his body. A part of Coach Thickman thought he was being watched, but he ignored that feeling — he didn’t mind, for one thing, he liked putting on a little show. He wondered if any of the football players were watching, he hoped so.
“Swallow that shit, boy…” Coach Thickman said with a grunt.
He sprayed his wad deeply into Avery’s body, coating his belly and filling it with his creamy seed. It was hot and thick, and it seeped into Avery’s flesh from his stomach. Spasms of pleasure rocketed up Thickman’s body, and his muscles all rippled at once. A throaty groan came out of him.
His muscles were so powerful, so thick, so firm — or so they looked. Charlie had to fight the urge to show himself and grope Coach Thickman. Sweat clung to the curves of his biceps, and it glistened off his skin in the dim light. Charlie murmured to himself and licked his lips, his hand in his pants playing with his own throbbing erection.
“Hmm-hmm, take it, swallow it, damn…”
Thickman’s fat cock kept going, pulsating in Avery’s throat. Avery choked up a big wad of white precum that dripped down his chin and landed on the forest floor. Avery gurgled merrily, slurping on Coach Thickman’s limpening dick and taking in every drop he could.
Finally he was done. “Damn, boy…” Coach Thickman took his dick out and tucked it away in his track pants. His last few drops of jizz were soaked up by the fabric of his pants, which made a small wet spot in his crotch. Thickman either didn’t notice or didn’t care.”We got another away game in two weekends. You gonna drive the van for us?”
“Maybe,” Avery said with a smile, his hands moving up Thickman’s body under his shirt, to grope up his muscles. “I’ll have to check my calendar.”
They kept talking, but Charlie darted away. He didn’t want to get caught watching. That would be embarrassing, especially since he realized only just now that he had been jacking off. He had shot his own wad onto the ground. It felt so good and so natural he didn’t notice until he was orgasming, and now his dick was so sensitive it hurt.
Did they know he had done that? Would anyone be able to tell? Charlie was in a panic as he fled back to the bus.
Luckily, everyone just assumed Charlie had taken a shower, and no one asked. He snuck a sniff of his pits, which didn’t smell too strongly of sweat. Charlie assumed he hadn’t been seen because no one ever mentioned it.
But Avery had seen. He knew better than to acknowledge it though, because he thought he could still land a taste of Charlie’s meat if he waited for the right moment. Charlie Smitkowski was one of the athletes at GHU Avery most craved.
Avery hung out behind the truck stop waiting for that van of football jocks to return. He got a few truckers in the two weeks he waited, but no one as handsome as Coach Thickman. That was expected. They couldn’t all be winners.
Still, he waited. This would pay off soon, he was sure, and he had little else to do as his classes were almost done for the semester. He was just studying for the finals at this point.
He heard the van pull up while Avery finished a bottle of water at a picnic table near the showerhouse. It had been a slow day, unseasonably hot and humid as could be. He went to the air conditioner, where he could stand and peer into a window into the shower and the whirr of the compressor meant Avery didn’t have to worry about making noise. That position gave him a good look into the shower, and he could see out front if Coach Thickman was heading back here.
A muscular blond jock was flopping his dick between his fingers as he soaped himself up. Avery watched the shower water run over his plump ass as he shook his cock — he seemed to be making a point about how big or high-quality his cock was, or maybe he was just trying to get attention. But out of the corner of his eye, Avery saw that Charlie Smitkowski meander casually behind the showerhouse. He went around the other side of the building, so he didn’t see Avery at the air conditioner.
As soon as he saw Charlie, Avery hurried away from the air conditioner and darted behind a tree. He pretended to be waiting there when Charlie nervously approached.
“Hey,” Avery said.
“Hi.” Charlie was tense, lips pursed together. He didn’t know what brought him here, except that he thought that Avery would probably be here again, and he had made sure to beat Coach Thickman here. Charlie figured that he’d have some privacy if he was first.
Avery didn’t say anything else. He just dropped to his knees and pulled Charlie’s dick out through the fly of his jeans.
His dick disappeared into the man’s mouth, and Charlie let out a nervous whimper. Pleasure shot up his spine. It felt good, better than anything he had ever done. He wondered if this man was that good, or if he had simply never been with a good woman.
His dick rocketed to full erection. Charlie moaned and licked his lips. He could feel an orgasm already rising up within him, and he was worried he’d cum quickly and look like a loser.
“Howdy, son,” Coach Thickman’s baritone voice boomed and echoed in Charlie’s mind.
Charlie winced and turned around just in time to get a face full of Coach Thickman’s bare chest. He was in his boxers and shower sandals, his hefty chest shaking as he came closer. His dick was already poking out through the fly of his shorts.
“Oh, uh! Hi! Coach Thickman! Hi! I-“
“Hush, boy,” Coach Thickman said with a low, throaty murmur. He stood next to Charlie, so close their asscheeks pressed against each other. Charlie felt small and weak. Coach Thickman’s heavy arm draped over Charlie’s shoulders, and his armpit hair rubbed against Charlie’s bicep.
That was enough to keep Charlie from cumming too quickly. He was too nervous to do anything more than try not to smell Coach Thickman’s armpit — which didn’t smell bad, since he had just showered moments ago, it smelled like deodorant, but it was intense and warm and Charlie felt like less of a man every time he caught a whiff.
Their dicks touched. Charlie gulped. He looked around as though considering fleeing — the thought did cross his mind, but he wouldn’t want to blue-ball himself like that. He could do this. It was so exciting his heart raced, he felt like he’d never really been alive before this moment.
His pale tan cock smushed up against Coach Thickman’s. Charlie was glad to see that they were the same size — he would have felt inadequate if his dick was small. Avery could tease both cocktips at once, slurping down the precum that flowed from both piss-slits.
He tongued both shafts and licked all four balls in turn. Avery enjoyed dragging this out because he liked the sight of both men feeling each other up. It was Coach Thickman mainly, whose arms flexed as he moved, thick muscles caressing Charlie’s smoother chest.
But Charlie couldn’t quite stay still either. He jumped back and forth on his feet. Every time a shiver of pleasure shot through him he blushed and quivered a little more.
Charlie saw Coach Thickman’s mouth coming and could have moved his head away. It was obvious they were about to kiss.
A part of him wanted to be kissed. For just a moment, he allowed himself to feel desire for the mature football coach with the grizzled beard. Charlie gulped.
“Ah-!” Charlie’s gasp of surprise was cut off by Coach Thickman kissing him on the lips. Their tongues collided in Charlie’s mouth, while Charlie lost himself in his coach’s arms.
He didn’t know how long that lasted. It felt like forever. Coach Thickman noisily kissed him, slobbering over his lips and cheeks and neck. He even left a hickey that Charlie would later have to claim was from a girl last night (luckily, the others all believed him).
They were still kissing as they both orgasmed at once. Avery slurped on both cocks the best he could, slathering both dicktips with his spit. He used one hand on each shaft too. He loved being double-teamed in the mouth, especially by men whose dicks instinctively fought with each other for space in his mouth.
Creamy cum coated his tongue and ran down his throat. It was salty and warm, with two distinct flavors — one bright and sunny, the other fragrant and spiced — Avery couldn’t decide which one came from which. He guzzled down every drop, continuing to lick both piss-slits even as both men’s muscles twitched.
“Goddamn!” Charlie sounded like he might cry, he was so impassioned and stressed. He wiggled in Coach Thickman’s arms.
“Shit yeah,” Coach Thickman said. He finally let go and stepped away. He took a deep breath, laughed and smacked Charlie’s asscheek. “Good job, son.”
“Uh, thanks.” Charlie’s face was red, and he took a deep breath. He tried to look nonchalant.
“You boys have a good game,” Avery said. He stood up and stretched his legs. “But you better move on. I want to get going before too late.”
Charlie was glad to go. He was glad for the unspoken rules of man-on-man action — Coach Thickman didn’t need to tell him that this was a don’t-ask-don’t-tell kind of scenario. Coach Thickman would never mention it, and Charlie would try hard not to think about it.
It was hard not to think about it though, over the next few weeks as Charlie prepared for the state championship that would bring him back to that same truck-stop once more.
That had felt so good he could scream, and he needed to feel that way again. He even considered driving down there once in the middle of the night — if he hadn’t needed to borrow a car, he probably would have done it.
Of course, Avery probably wouldn’t be there at three o’clock in the morning anyway, Charlie told himself. Charlie had never told anyone what happened. He and Coach Thickman looked at each other and shared wry, awkward grins, but Charlie didn’t think there was any way that anyone else would find out.
He went to the truck stop one more time. Charlie told himself that this would be it — the last time the team went came to this truck stop this year. Hopefully next year he wouldn’t be doing anything like this. Maybe he’d even have a girlfriend by then.
He hung back while the rest of the team hurried into the shower, while Charlie snuck around back. He arrived in the woods behind the truck stop shower, where he turned around a tree and ran into Coach Thickman.
“Charlie, my boy.” Coach Thickman crossed his arms over his big black chest. He was hairy, with an amateur bodybuilder’s body, which made Charlie nervous — last time, Coach Thickman’s body hadn’t been as hairy because he’d shaved his chest recently. But now Charlie felt even weaker and younger than ever. Thickman glared at him and placed one heavy hand on Charlie’s shoulder.
“Coach Thickman! I was just back here, uh, to… to see, y’know, what-“
“Hush, boy,” Coach Thickman said. “I know exactly why you was back here.”
“Yes, sir.”
Then, in one smooth motion, Coach Thickman lowered his head and planted his lips right on Charlie’s. At first, Charlie had an urge to push away and make him stop, the same urge he’d had before when they got their dicks wet at the same time.
But then Charlie realized he wanted it. He wasn’t scared — a little nervous, but not scared — and he wanted this to happen more than anything. He didn’t mind that Avery wasn’t here.
He wanted to taste Coach Thickman.
Coach’s arms wrapped around Charlie’s body, holding him close as they kissed. Coach Thickman stroked his smooth back and shoulders, making Charlie quiver in excitement.
“What.. was that?,” Charlie said, his voice wavery and plaintive.
“Hush. That ain’t the issue at hand, boy,” Coach Thickman said. “We gotta get down to business, and that business is makin’ love. We gonna brew up a big pot of lust, boy. Ya feel me?”
“Yes, Coach.” Charlie shook as he sunk to his knees. He couldn’t believe he was really doing this. He opened his mouth and it filled immediately with Coach’s throbbing black cock. It was thick and veiny, and it tasted both bad and good at once — it was musty and fresh, sweet and sour, salty and watery, creamy and thick, all at once, and it made Charlie want to taste even more of it.
He opened his mouth wide, letting Coach Thickman drill his dick down his throat. Charlie stroked himself off as he took it. His throat gradually loosened until finally he felt that entire massive rod invading his throat with each thrust of Coach’s hips.
It felt so right. Charlie was right where he wanted to be, and his anxiety vanished; he was no longer worried about being caught, or about being teased, or about Coach Thickman thinking him less of a man. All Charlie wanted to do was swallow down every inch of his mean and every drop of his cumload.
“Alright, if you ready, bend over, boy,” Coach Thickman said, murmuring softly. He pulled his dick out and gently guided Charlie into position.
At first, Charlie didn’t know if he wanted to do this. He hadn’t really thought about taking it in the ass. Was this how people normally did that the first time? He didn’t know. He wanted to come up with reasons not to do it, but his mind couldn’t come up with any.
The only downside, he thought, was that it would hurt the first time, or so he assumed. When he felt his ass stretch, however, the pain was not bad at all. Coach Thickman’s cock was lubed up with spit (and a little actual lube that Coach Thickman had brought for precisely this sort of occurrence).
“Oh god!” Charlie gritted his teeth. There was potent pressure, like he needed to shit but couldn’t. That sensation only gradually loosened as he felt more and more dickmeat cram into his tight hole.
He wasn’t sure he could keep doing this. The feelings were so powerful he couldn’t even speak. All he could do was wrench his head and let out a meek, wordless howl that made Coach Thickman chuckle. His dick twitched in Charlie’s ass.
“I’m all the way in ya now, boy,” Coach Thickman said with a grunt. He smacked Charlie’s cheek, sending a shiver of pleasure through his body. “We’s makin’ love.”
“Oooooh….” Charlie’s voice broke. He tried to stroke himself off, but he couldn’t focus enough. His asshole and prostate commanded all of his attention.
He didn’t need to jack himself off though. As Coach Thickman slammed into him, his hands roamed over Charlie’s body and soon reached around to his cock.
With Charlie on all fours, Coach Thickman gave him a reacharound. He slammed his dick in with all the power he could muster — that was why Thickman cornholed men so much, they didn’t complain when you rammed it in, not like women did — until his balls made a pleasing thwack sound every time they slapped against Charlie’s body.
“Alright, boy, we gonna blow our nut in a minute,” Coach Thickman said, showering Charlie’s tense face and neck with kisses. His deep gravelly voice resonated in Charlie’s ear. “Ya hear me? You might feel all kinda bad feelin’s afterwards. You might start thinkin’ you you less of a man. Don’t think none of those things. What we doin’ here ain’t no thing, ain’t nothin’ you gotta ever think about again.”
“Yes, Coach,” Charlie’s voice was tense and pinched. He moaned as his cock throbbed an orgasm erupted inside him.
“This is just lust. We just actin’ on feelings, and we ain’t gotta think ’bout that lust again, not till those feelings appear once more. Ya feel me?”
“Yes, Coach.”
Cum sprayed into Charlie’s ass, great big gobs of it that coated his insides and seeped through his belly. Charlie was so focused on that pleasure deep within him that he barely noticed his own orgasm or the jets of cum he shot onto the ground and Coach Thickman’s wrist.
They kept going. Charlie was nearly totally limp, unable to process the potent pleasure wracking his body, but Coach Thickman didn’t slow down at all. He kept slamming his cock in and out of Charlie’s ass, making a big frothy mess of cum that formed a puddle on the ground.
At last he was done. Charlie’s mind reeled as he collapsed and Coach Thickman pulled out.
“Ah, shit, shit,” Charlie said with a grunt. He tried to stand but his knees were weak. Coach Thickman helped him up.
“You alright, boy?”
“Fine.” Charlie blushed. “Good. Cool. Fine.”
“Shush. C’mon, boy, we gotta go take a shower. Remember, ain’t nothin’ happened. If anyone asks, we came back here to share a cigarette we ain’t want the others to see us smoke,” Coach Thickman said. “You ready?”
“Yeah. I’m ready,” Charlie said. “Next time we have an away game-“
“Hush, boy. We’ll worry about that the next time I see you back here.”

The Boss

Lamar is glad to have work, even if it’s difficult, dirty and remote. He’s gotta shower with other men, including his boss Nelson. When it turns out Nelson has some ideas on how two men can meet their needs far from women, Lamar just might have to swing on the downlow whether he wants to or not!

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Read the whole thing here!

Lamar stumbled through the worksite towards the temporary showers. Moonlight shone upon the upturned dirt and scattered heavy equipment. Lamar’s hardhat almost fell off, but he righted it. He wasn’t drunk, but in the dark and on the uneven surface of the construction site, it looked like he was. He nearly fell several times.
Behind him, the rest of the work crew hooted and clapped. They were drunk. The crickets were impossibly loud here too — Lamar had thought coming here to the middle of nowhere would be a nice, quiet place to relax, but during the day his fellow workers catcalled each other (since there were no women here) amid the rumbling of heavy machinery, and at night, the crickets crippeted, the sound joining with the men to create a lively chorus louder than any city street Lamar had lived on.
He couldn’t complain. He hadn’t come here for peace and quiet, that was just something he had hoped to find anyway. He had come here to escape a debt.
A lot of what he had expected turned out not to be true. Lamar was a strong young man, a high school basketball star and all-around ladysman. His life was made — he was a good student, a good player, a law-abiding kid who wanted to go to college and was good enough to get a scholarship.
Only he wasn’t quite that good. His senior year had been a disaster. It wasn’t really his fault, the team just fell apart. His grades were awful. In the end, he had been offered a five hundred dollar scholarship to a podunk school that cost thirty-eight times that amount per semester. It was a joke.
And so that had been the end of all his dreams. There was no other way to do it, and he had fucked up.
Now here he was, working for his uncle’s friend, Nelson, who helped Lamar pay off his debt and gave him this job out in the middle of nowhere.
The rural construction site was in south Louisiana, near but not quite on the Gulf Coast. Nelson’s crew was building worker housing for an oil rig that would be built nearby afterwards. They were some thirty miles from the nearest road, living in tents, using endless generators to power makeshift equipment with limited supplies. The pay was not bad, especially since it was impossible to spend any of it most of the time.
But conditions were tough. Nature was loud, the work was long, the heat was stultifying, and the lack of electricity made everything boring.
At least the shower — which was just a tent with a hose contraption attached — seemed likely to feel good. It had its own generator to make its own hot water. That had seemed useless when he started and the day’s heat was like a woolen blanket he couldn’t throw off. But he was getting used to it, and it was chilly at night. A warm shower was going to feel good.
It was funny how something you took for granted could become a luxury in a matter of hours. Hot running water is too basic to be thankful for until the moment you don’t have it anymore, and then it’s the only thing that matters.
He stepped into the shower tent and sighed. He was glad to get away from the other workers. Nelson was the only black man on the crew, and he was the crew leader. That meant Lamar was the only black man among the rank and file. Lamar’s arrival had doubled the black population here, and he wasn’t sure that wase a good thing. The others seemed to see him as an extension of Nelson.
The rest were rednecks and roughnecks and other kinds of necks, Lamar didn’t know. He didn’t understand most of what they said, the drawl, holler and stawk in their voices mixing like currents in an eddy, and what came out was an incomprehensible wash of syllables. Nelson was in charge, and it was plainly obvious that none of them liked taking orders from a black man.
Nelson didn’t take any shit from them, but Lamar commanded no such respect. He was a rookie. He tried to let their words roll off him, but it was tough — if they had been outright racist, that would have been easier, he thought. He could fight them or at least dismiss them as ignorant hillbillies in his mind.
But they weren’t racist, at least not openly, not in a way Lamar could be sure he wasn’t imagining. They just gave Lamar all the worst tasks to do. They delighted in making fun of his skinny arms and relative lack of experience. In the showers, they had taken to pretending his dick was small even though it wasn’t.
That was the other reason he was glad to shower by himself at night. He hadn’t realized the only light in the shower tent came from the sun. It seemed obvious now, but he hadn’t even thought about it before stepping into the tent and realizing he was going to be showering in the dark. That must be why they all showered as soon as work stopped, when the sun was just setting.
Still, the shower tent was just a big wide open area, so there was nothing to bump into, and there was enough moonlight that it wasn’t pitch-black. He sighed when he got in, glad to be able to shower without a bunch of white rednecks crowding in around him.
They were entirely too comfortable with man-on-man contact for Lamar’s taste. They had a game they called the Crack Game, which basically meant they tried to thwack each other with their dicks in the asscrack. It wasn’t even a real game, there was no way to win or lose, no points, no beginning, no end. Lamar panicked the first time one of those hairy hillbillies attempted at Lamar, ramming his cock between Lamar’s plump brown cheeks — half the reason he had never joined a gang was that people had been telling him since he was a boy that his ass was too perfect for prison.
These workers were not too perfect for prison. Most of them had records, and a handful were open about being booty bandits. Lamar tried to stay away from them.
He turned the water on, and let it warm up before stepping under the stream. He sighed. He felt the day’s sweat wash over him, and the pounding stream of water pushed anxiety and aches from his labored muscles. He really liked being in here alone in the dark, he thought, deciding right then and there that he was going to continue showering at night as long as he worked here.
“Who dat?” came Nelson’s deeply accented rural voice.
“Lamar, man. I’m just showerin’-“
“I see that. What’d I tell you ’bout callin’ me man, nigga?”
Lamar rolled his eyes. Luckily Nelson couldn’t see that. Lamar said, “Sorry, sir.” Nelson had told him to call him sir so it didn’t look like he was showing favoritism to his friend’s nephew. Lamar had never called anyone ‘sir’ consistently like that.
He took off his hardhat and placed it next to Lamar’s. Since this entire area was technically a worksite, the hardhat was legally required everywhere except the sleeping quarters and the showers. He’d had it on so long Lamar’s scalp was super-sensitive when he first took it off tonight.
Lamar sighed, annoyed that he wasn’t getting his shower alone. That was another luxury that seemed basic until he didn’t have it anymore.
Even though he couldn’t see the man’s crotch, Lamar kept his eyes scrupulously above Nelson’s waist. That was just polite, that was how he and his fellow teammates had done it in the showers in the projects he grew up in — the juvenile shower had individual stalls, but when they moved up to the adult showering area, they did it in small groups of awkward, gaze-avoiding young men. They pretended not to have ever seen each other’s cocks no matter how often they showered together.
But the rednecks here didn’t do that at all. They compared sizes and pretended to masturbate on each other. They grabbed each other’s nuts and held on just to get the other person’s attention.
A part of Lamar wondered if he would feel better if he could be that relaxed and uninhibited. It wasn’t good to be uptight. They were right, it was just nudity. It was just a dick. We all have them, why not let them out? None of the men here had anything to hide. They all had imperfect bodies, with bellies and hairy backs and some of them have little dinky dicks that they weren’t even ashamed of it.
“Woo-hoo! I’m the undisputed champion of the Crack Game! Ain’t nobody can compete with me!” A hillbilly drawl echoed from the campsite. Sound traveled so clearly at night that Lamar could hear it easily even here in the shower. “Got a cock like a baseball bat!”
Lamar shuddered. That was a hillbilly named Cooter, who had a Confederate flag on his belly and a hoggish cock, ugly as a dead baby in a puddle, shit! He had hair on his back, he was one of those kinds of white men. Lamar did not like that kind of white man. Not in a racist way, he felt the same way about an Arab or a Jew or a Mexican whose chest hair had grown up over his shoulders and onto his back. Nah. Lamar don’t play that way. Cooter loved the Crack Game, the other workers must have been playing it outside.
“Cooter is shameful white trash,” Nelson said. He shook his head, wrinkling his nose as he got in the shower next to Lamar. “He dirty.”
Lamar wanted to complain and ask him to use a different shower, further away, but he didn’t dare. He just nodded and trembled.
“You seen that Confederate flag tattoo, right?” he asked and Lamar nodded. Nelson spat on the wooden floor of the shower tent. “He racist as shit.”
“He told me he wasn’t, he said he lost his virginity to a black girl,” Lamar said.
“Yeah, that’s just what he say. It’s true — I think — but he ain’t tellin’ the whole story cuz he don’t know you yet. That black girl was a prostitute his papa bought him. He told me that last year,” Nelson said.
“Oh. Okay.”
“They’s all racist. They don’t like me givin’ ’em orders,” Nelson said.
“They seem to respect you.”
“They do, but they don’t like it,” Nelson said. He cleared his throat and leaned back so the water ran over his powerful chest and big cock — Lamar couldn’t tell how big it really was because he refused to look directly at it, but even out the corner of his eye, he could tell it was big. “You like it here?”
Lamar shrugged. “The pay’s good.”
“That ain’t what I asked, boy. I’m gonna talk to yo’ uncle when I go back to the office tomorrow,” he said. “What should I tell him?”
“Tell him it’s fine, tell him I’m doin’ good,” Lamar said.
Nelson nodded. “Okay.” He paused, then whistled and placed one hand on Lamar’s flat belly. “You got a nice six-pack, boy. You probably get all kinds of girls with that, huh?”
Lamar burned with embarrassment as he mumbled his agreement. The other workers had been making fun of his ladysman smile and taut belly as well. Really Nelson had pretty close to a six-pack too — not quite, there was a hint of pudge there, but it was close enough that Lamar didn’t see much of a difference between their bellies.
His entire body tensed at the touch of Nelson’s hand. Lamar was a star basketball player, so he was used to his coach slapping his ass and rubbing his back. But something about the darkened, humid environment made this more nerve-wracking.
“You doin’ okay wit’out a girl here?”
Lamar nodded, then realized Nelson couldn’t see that. “Yeah,” he said, as casually as he could muster. Nelson’s hand slipped around his belly and clutched the small of his back. It rested there, gripping him loosely. Nelson’s hand was callused and firm, his fingers thick.
“You ever mess around on the downlow?”
His words hung there in the humid shower air. Lamar gulped. “No,” he said. He trembled, cursing himself for looking weak in front of Nelson.
Nelson chuckled dryly. “Really? That don’t sound like the truth, nigga.”
“Well… I mean…”
“You ain’t gotta go on,” he said. “I know what that means, you don’t wanna mess wit’ those rednecks. I don’t mess around with white men neither. Reminds me too much of prison life.”
“Okay.”
“You ain’t no kinda white man,” he said.
“Yeah…”
“You wanna jack me off?”
“No…”
“You wanna take it in the ass?”
“No way!” Lamar yelped and bit his lip as Nelson took his hand and placed it on Nelson’s thick rod. It spasmed as soon as Lamar touched it. Lamar felt a shudder of disgust, as well as horniness, run up his body. He’d been on the DL with some buddies in the past but never an older man like Nelson. Nelson sighed loudly, right in Lamar’s ear. Lamar’s heart raced and he shuddered. He tried to take his hand away, but Nelson held it in place, and Lamar had no choice but to hold onto its hot, throbbing thickness. Lamar gulped. “I, uh… If we on the downlow, that means I get to stick you too, right, nigga?”
“What was that?”
“I mean… sir.”
“Thank you. No, that ain’t right, Lamar. I’m yo’ boss. How would it look if I let you put it in me?” He said, softly, moving his mouth right next to Lamar’s ear.
“Nobody is here-“
“They could walk in,” he said. He kissed Lamar on the ear. “How about this, nigga? I’ll give you a reacharound.”
“What’s that?” Lamar asked before he had even given it any thought — of course it was obvious if you paused to consider it. He blushed, thinking he probably sounded naive. He knew what a reacharound was. His mind simply wasn’t working fast enough to keep up with the reality unfolding around him.
Nelson laughed. “Your uncle ain’t nevuh tell you what a reacharound is? He ain’t tell you ’bout prison?”
“Uh… My mom won’t let him tell me that stuff. She says it’s impolite to talk about prison.”
“Oh, you one of dem sheltered chilluns, huh?”
“No!”
In one smooth motion, Nelson slid behind Lamar. He wedged his dick between Lamar’s cheeks. Nelson was rock-hard, already leaking precum into Lamar’s ass.
“Well, when yo’ uncle and me was in prison together, we had sum rules. The guards took it serious, nigga,” Nelson said. He leaned in close so he could whisper in Lamar’s ear. “They ain’t wanna get involved when inmates get in fights with stiffies. So they make up a rule. You can do whatevuh it takes to blow a nut if the nigga on top give a reacharound. Then you ain’t a bitch, not a punk, you just lettin’ another man use yo’ butthole for awhile.”
Lamar shuddered. He bit his lip and looked down.
“Don’t be like that, nigga. We messin’ around on the downlow,” Nelson said. “Don’t go telling yo’ uncle I hurt you. I ain’t. You can tell me to fuck off if you want.”
A part of Lamar did want to tell him that, but a bigger part of him didn’t want to. Not only would it be easier to just go along with it, Lamar was very horny. He hadn’t realized how much he was going to miss girls. Back when he messed around on the DL in his old neighborhood, Lamar had always sworn he wouldn’t do it again, but when the opportunity presented itself and he was horny… the prospect of getting it in the butt seemed like a good trade for getting to blow a nut himself. He let his stiffies guide him then. It was only after it was all over that Lamar again promised himself that next time he would say no.
He was older now, more mature, better able to handle the sometimes intense horniness arising from his crotch.
“Will you jerk me off too? On the downlow?” Lamar asked. “I mean… since you don’t wanna take it in the ass-“
“Nah, I don’t do that,” Nelson said, taking Lamar’s words as acquiescence. “Thank you, baby. I’ll tell yo’ uncle you doin’ real good. I won’t tell ‘im about this.”
“Okay.”
“It don’t count in the dark, nigga. By the time morning comes around, you gonna be walkin’ normal again,” he said. “And if not, I’ll take you with me back to the office, so you get a whole day to recover. It’ll be like this nevuh happened.”
Then Nelson pumped his hips, slamming his dick into Lamar’s ass. Lamar bucked and squealed. A sharp burst of pain hit him, and he arched his back. Lamar held his breath and gripped the hose supplying his showerhead for support.
“Sssh, sssh,” Nelson said. “When you and yo’ buddies mess around on the downlow, you ever do it in the butt?”
“Uh… no…” That wasn’t true, but Lamar didn’t want to admit it to Nelson.
Nelson smiled. “I ain’t realize that, nigga. Hmm-hmm, I’s takin’ yo’ intactness,” he said. “Sorry ’bout that.” He paused to grab a bar of soap and work up a lather. He used that as lube as he slowly worked more of his dick into Lamar. He handed Lamar the bar of soap so he could use both hands to guide his cock.
As soon as he grabbed the soap, Lamar knew he was going to drop it. It slipped right out of his hand and plopped onto the wet wooden floor. Lamar gasped, and Nelson laughed.
“Go on then, bend over,” Nelson said. “That’s a better position anyway.”
Sharp, shooting pains ran up his side as Lamar bent over. He had no sooner touched the soap when another ray of agony shot through him. Lamar gasped as a deep ball of pleasure boiled up too — it felt distant for now, like it occurred behind all the pain, but it was undeniably there.
“Grab yo’ ankles, boi,” Nelson said.
Lamar did so. He couldn’t decide if this was a more or less painful position than any others. He gritted his teeth as Nelson pushed another inch or two of his dick in, and that pit of pleasure grew stronger.
Then Nelson’s hand crept around and grabbed Lamar’s dick. Lamar yelped again, even though it wasn’t a surprise. He lifted his head as intense pre-orgasmic energy roiled through him.
His ass loosened up enough that Nelson could plow him more easily, a fact that Lamar found humiliating. It was comforting to know that Nelson wouldn’t bring this up tomorrow. Nelson even kissed him on his grizzled neck, his own thick mustache bristling against Lamar’s skin.
Then Nelson’s free arm wrapped around Lamar’s body and held him close. His smooth chest rubbed against Lamar’s back, muscles rippling. Lamar’s dick pulsated beneath Nelson’s grip. Lamar wanted to let go but didn’t. The more he squeezed, the more Nelson’s whole body rippled and his muscles flexed where they pressed against Lamar’s limbs.
“You gonna nut now, nigga?”
“I dunno…” Lamar said, breathless. He wasn’t lying, but as soon as he said it, he knew the correct answer was yes.
Nelson seemed to realize that. He licked Lamar’s cheek. “I love feelin’ niggas orgasm when my dick’s inside ’em. So go on. I wanna feel it,” he said. He repeated himself over and over, his deep, gruff voice resonating in Lamar’s ear. Lamar really wanted to tell him to shut up, but before he could, his orgasm hit him. He moaned and bucked, hips flexing as he pushed his ass backwards onto Nelson’s manhood.
Hot cum sprayed within the shower, mixing with the warm water and slipping between the slats of wood that made up the floor. Lamar writhed in Nelson’s biceps as pleasure erupted deep within him.
Nelson held on tight as the orgasm burst in Lamar’s ass, spreading throughout his body. Then Nelson let out a long low sigh right in Lamar’s ear, making the hair on the back of his neck stand up.
Both of Nelson’s arms wrapped around Lamar’s belly. “Sorry ’bout this, nigga. Might hurt a bit,” he said softly. Then he rammed his dick in and out in a series of long, smooth actions. Blinding pain erupted in Lamar’s ass, and he bit his lip to avoid screaming. The pain grew more and more intense before transforming into intense bliss.
He didn’t know how long Nelson plowed him hard like that. It felt like eons, but was probably only a few seconds. Soon enough, it was over and Nelson held on with his dick at maximum penetration.
Then hot semen spurted out, coating Lamar’s insides. Lamar moaned, embarrassed at how orgasmic the sound was — he didn’t mean to sound like he was enjoying this, even if a part of him did enjoy it. Intense sensations wracked his body, and he cried out as spasms of pleasure spread through his frame. He hoped it sounded like pain to Nelson, so he wouldn’t think Lamar wanted to do this again.
He did want to do it again. He just didn’t want to want to do it again.
He shuddered with humiliation as wad after wad of cum flowed into him. It dripped down his thighs and landed on the floor. The creamy semen seeped into every corner of Lamar’s body.
“Gimme yo’ hand, boy,” Nelson said with a growl. “I don’t like it when my dick just fall out of a nigga’s ass. Keep stroking it, okay?” He placed Lamar’s hand on the root of his limpening dick as he slowly withdrew it.
Lamar gulped nervously but did as he was told. Nelson’s dick was thick and slimy, dripping with shower water, soap suds, dried sweat and sticky semen. Lamar’s stomach churned and he gagged at the warm texture of it.
Finally it was all the way out. Nelson kissed him on the lips, and even shoved his tongue into Lamar’s mouth. Then he stepped away and washed his dick off in the stream of hot shower water.
“You okay, nigga?” he asked.
Lamar winced and straightened his legs. He still felt burning pain, and deep inside, remnants of his orgasm, but he tried to hide it. He mumbled, “Yeah, it’s okay, nigga.”
“What?”
“I mean… I’m okay, sir.”
“Good. I put a tub of aloe in yo’ bunk. It’s under yo’ pillow,” Nelson said as he walked back to his clothes. He didn’t put them on though, he just put that hardhat back on his head — that was legally required, after all — and picked his clothes up. “Put that aloe in your ass. It’ll help,” he said, then walked out of the tent, bare cock flapping in the breeze.
Lamar breathed a sigh of relief. That hadn’t been too painful, he thought, and at least he didn’t get caught. He shuddered at the silhouettes of his redneck coworkers, who were still hanging out by the campfire, hollering at each other and thwacking each other’s asses with their cocks.
The sound of their carrying on filled the night sky. Lamar just smiled, washed his ass off and walked to his tent. That had been humiliating, he thought, but fun as well, and it seemed like a worthwhile trade if it gave him a chance to work here and pay off his debt. Just like Nelson, he remained naked on the walk to his bunk except for the hardhat he kept on his head. The aloe was there at his bunk, just as Nelson had promised, and it did help the pain.
He managed to sink into restful sleep before the rednecks even got back to their bunks, and for the first time since he got there, Lamar felt like he was where he was supposed to be.

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 Football Team

Rob is at it again, this time landing an entire college football team! Their coach lets Rob go to town all over their studly alpha male bodies, and these jocks are all too happy to use him as they see fit!

Can Rob handle these young men’s carnal desires?

Read it now as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Rob got hard as soon as he walked into the locker room. The entire GHU football team was there, eyeing him suspiciously. They knew who he was, of course, they just weren’t sure how to treat him. Rob entered as Coach Marshall finished his pre-practice spiel, which involved significant scolding, the slapping of asscheeks and many sexually charged insults. During all of that, the players focused on sneaking curious glances at Rob.
When he was done, Coach Marshall briefly introduced Rob to the team and said to do whatever he said and that Rob was no excuse for poor performance today. Coach Marshall was embarrassed with this part, so he got through it quickly and left. Once he was gone, Rob blushed and told the players to just relax.
“I won’t hurt, I promise,” Rob said with a casual grin.
He started with Raython Lake, a beefy running back with a curvy body and broad shoulders. Lake had implied he was very comfortable with this and even got dome from men in the past — he had an “old guy” who paid him for his old jockstraps and an occasional swing on his meat — Lake says “all dome is good dome”, and he has similar views on pussy. All that made him seem like a good place to start. Lake was sitting on a bench between rows of lockers, wearing nothing but a jockstrap soaked with sweat.
Rob inserted his tongue into the top of Lake’s asscrack, making him giggle like a schoolboy, then Rob licked in one long smooth motion all the way up Lake’s spine. Salty sweat coated his tongue and made him moan with desire.
“Holy shit, Lake, is he lickin’ your butt?”
“He is, he is-“
“That’s a rimjob, broh.”
“Nah, nah,” Lake said, suppressing a baritone laugh that came from either anxiety or ticklishness or both. His back arched and squirmed as Rob’s tongue explored the smoothness of his flesh. “He just lickin’ my back.”
“Is that a thing?”
“Are you into backs?”
That made Rob laugh as well. “No, no, not really, guys, I’m not especially into backs,” he said. He clutched the broad muscles of Lake’s back. “That’s not what this is about-“
“Then why are you licking my back?”
“I have never licked a girl’s back.”
“Right? There’s no point. There’s nothing there.”
“Maybe it’s foreplay! Maybe he’s gonna seduce you, Lake.”
“Will not.”
“Maybe back licking is just the first step-“
Rob held up his hands. “Guys, relax. There’s no secret to uncover here. I just like muscles, that’s all. I like sweaty muscles, no matter what muscle it is. His back was right there, available, big and sweaty so I licked it. That’s all. There’s no wider lesson to be learned from that.”
There was a long awkward pause. Then Rob smiled and licked the back of Lake’s neck, scooping up every drop of salty sweat that collected there. He massaged Lake’s sensitive flesh, feeling his ribs and his flat belly. He tweaked each of his nipples.
“Why do you like sweat? That’s gross.”
“Yeah, don’t you want to wait until after we shower?”
“No!” Rob blushed as they giggled at his reaction. “I mean… No need for a shower.”
“Okay, guys, come on, quit payin’ attention to him, we got practice to get ready for. He ain’t here to distract us,” said Jimmy, the broad-shouldered blond quarterback and team captain. He rolled his eyes at the assembled group. He had a big grin on his face. “We gotta talk about the game tomorrow, or Coach Marshall is gonna lecture me about leadership again. First of all, Tuck, did you finish your mission?”
Rob had finished licking Lake’s back and moved on to the next player, Tuck, a hefty tackle with a deep Texan drawl, a cowboy hat on his head — which he only took off during games — and an expansive tattoo of the Confederate flag on his back. He had an unkempt beard and an even unkempter mustache, and his broad shoulders gleamed with beads of sweat that clung to the hairs that extended to his shoulders and beyond.
“Well, I went ovuh to that campus, and I reckoned they wouldn’t tell me nothin’ unless I fit in. So I got to drinkin’,” he said. And then he began a long story about going to a frat party at a different college on the other side of Atlanta. It was obvious — to Rob, anyway — that Tuck’s story was going to end with him getting too drunk to steal the other team’s playbook, which was what he had been told to do. But he took a long time to get to that point in the story. “I was drunker ‘an a skunk on Sunday, lemme tell you!” He whooped and slapped his meaty thigh. He continued his story — it was obvious his teammates were used to his slow, rambling stories.
That didn’t bother Rob, who used that time to get freaky. He bent down between Tuck’s legs and kissed his jockstrap-clad balls, making him stop talking for about a second as he gasped in surprise. He blushed and tried to pretend he wasn’t distracted by Rob’s ball-sucking.
“Tuck, are you about to tell us you passed out drunk on the lawn?”
“No!” His voice broke, and he blushed as his balls twitched. Tuck roared in frustration and stood up. He took off the jockstrap, and his heavy redneck cock popped out. He threw the jockstrap on Rob’s head and sat back down. Tuck arranged the straps so the jock-pouch part was over Rob’s nose — and he got a head full of muscle, sweat and Texan machismo, pubic hairs coating his cheeks, the astringent scent bringing tears to his eyes. But if Tuck intended to distract Rob, that effort failed because Rob just licked his bare cock instead.
“Then what happened?”
“I… fell asleep.”
“You passed out!” Jimmy shouted. “I oughta make you lick that guy’s balls, man.”
“Fuck you, Jimmy! You said to get drunk with them!”
“Oh, I’m sorry, I guess I should have specified that you shouldn’t get so drunk you pass out without completing your mission. Let’s just make that a permanent rule, okay? Anytime I give you a mission, I do not want you to get so drunk you can’t fulfill it. I also do not want you to get distracted by chasing butterflies, smoking crack or joining the Scientologists, Tuck! Should I list everything that should not distract you from your mission? No? Of course not, nothing should distract you from your mission, Tuck, that’s what makes it a mission!”
The entire team was laughing now, and even Tuck chortled, though he also winced and blushed. His dick twitched beneath Rob’s tongue, but it didn’t get hard.
He moved on to a dark-haired white man named Charlie, who looked at him like an oncoming tsunami as Rob came closer to him. He flexed his bicep, either as a threat or an invitation, since Rob had promised to lick muscles, or maybe as a distraction because he didn’t want Rob to focus on his cock.
So Rob did it — he loudly, moistly kissed Charlie’s left bicep, then slathered spit all along it. He had a barbed wire tattoo encircling his arm, which Rob traced with his tongue. He marveled at how rock-hard the muscle was, like he was licking a warm statue instead of a person. Why did only young bucks ever taste and feel like this?
“Hey! What’re you pussies still doin’ in the locker room? Huh? Sprints! Now!”
That was Coach Marshall, or Coach Hardass as he was known. When he bellowed from his office, the team jumped to their feet and hurried to throw their practice uniform on. For most of them, that meant those little half-shirts and dingy workout shorts.
“Relax yo’ old fart-factory, Coach Hardass…”
Rob watched them change, and aside from getting to kiss Tuck on his hair-dappled asscheeks — “kiss ‘em for good luck, okay, man?” — before he pulled his shorts up and headed out to the field, Rob wasn’t able to do more than watch them put clothes on. Watching men take clothes off was fun. Watching them put clothes on was less enjoyable.
He had only paid to have his way with them in the locker room, not out on the field. So Rob needed to stay in the lockers. He didn’t mind that too much. It was a nice break from the action, and he got to explore the masculine-scents and sweat stains of the clothing and equipment that filled the locker room.
Partway through the practice, as Rob wandered around sniffing jocks, he heard heavy footsteps and labored breathing. He jumped into the large cart near the door, wherein the players tossed their shared jockstraps and underclothes. Wifebeaters, t-shirts, boxer shorts and underwear abounded.
The smell was intoxicating, almost enough to distract Rob from the argument in the locker room. Coach Marshall had brought Jimmy in, dragging him by the earlobe.
“Coach! I told them to practice and I told them to do what you-“
“Shut your dumb mouth, Spokes!” Coach Marshall barked.
Jimmy yelped then, and Rob had to peek over the top of the hamper to see why. Coach Marshall had gotten Jimmy’s attention by gripping his crotch — his big, meaty hands held Jimmy’s jock-pouch in his palm, squeezing just hard enough that Jimmy held his breath, stood on his toes and flexed all his muscles at once. His blond hair trembled.
“Coach…”
“You want me to squeeze, boy!”
“No!”
“Then show some goddamn leadership! I tol’ you this job ain’t just ‘bout tellin’ ‘em what to do and handin’ out orange slices durin’ practice,” Coach Marshall said. “You gotta influence yo’ teammates, make ‘em do what they supposed to. Get ‘em to make good decisions instead of actin’ like ingrates.”
“Coach, I told them to!”
“And then they went out and got drunk and got balls-deep in some slut and you hung out and you double-teamed that slut along with ‘em, right? Lemme guess, Tuck was in her pussy cuz he’s a hillbilly and you was in her ass cuz you’re the team captain. And your balls slapped against Tuck’s and yer ballsweat mixed with his and your balls got all snuggly next to his-“
“Why are you so into balls, Coach?”
“Shut up!” He must have squeezed, because Jimmy gasped and straightened his back. Coach Marshall used his other hand to pull down Jimmy’s shorts. He slapped him on the ass — not in a kindly coach-like way or even in a mean pimp-like way, instead, he really slapped hard, like he wanted to slap the asscheek right off Jimmy. That made Jimmy buckle and cry out, and he nearly fell over but Coach Marshall kept ahold of his cock and balls with his other hand. Coach Marshall growled. “Only bein’ team captain ain’t about gettin’ the asshole when you double-penetrate a slut. That ain’t leadership, Spokes. That’s anal sex.”
“I know, Coach. That ain’t even what happened, you know-“
“So this weekend, you get Tuck to run like I told him to. If that seems difficult, just remember, I got you to agree to train Tuck, and all I had to do was squeeze your balls a bit. That ain’t hard. Tuck got balls you can squeeze too,” Coach Marshall said. He let go of Jimmy’s sac then, and wiped his hand off on Jimmy’s face.
“Yes, Coach,” Jimmy said with a shudder.
“Good. Now bring ‘em in for a break,” Coach Marshall said. “The lacrosse team needs the field for an hour.”
“Yes, Coach.”
They both went back out onto the field. Rob stayed there, buried in jockstraps until he heard footsteps heading towards the locker room. He could hear the lacrosse team as well, but they were in the visitor’s locker room next door.
“I am gonna fill that bitch up till cum be drippin’ down my balls, man!”
“She gonna suck me off too?”
“Fuck yeah, boys!”
“Tuck! You’re on the bottom for a team tackle!” Jimmy barked. His voice was tense and clipped, angry, or at least trying to get his teammates to think he was genuinely angry. “You should have done your runs last weekend.”
“Jimmy, come on! You were there! You can’t get mad at me about it now!”
“I told you to go running! I told you to do that, Tuck!” Jimmy frowned. He frowned, an expression aimed inward as much as at Tuck. He didn’t enjoy being the person who enforced the rules. He glanced over at Rob, who smiled. Jimmy nodded at him. “The little dude can tackle first.” He paused. He lowered his voice and spoke to Rob. “If you don’t mind getting tackled by some big fuckers.”
Rob wanted that more than anything. He ran across the linoleum-tiled floor of the locker room, while the whole team chanted and clapped, all except Tuck, who frowned at Jimmy.
“Tackle him! Tackle him! Tackle him!”
“Tackle-grope!”
Rob jumped onto Tuck’s chest, clutching his torso with his arms and legs. Tuck’s body was slick with sweat, and Rob had to struggle as he started to slide down the moment he connected with Tuck’s bulging muscles. He stuck his tongue out, so as he dragged down Tuck’s body, he got to lick his chest muscles.
Then Tuck sighed, groaned and climbed down to the floor as though he had been tackled — since he outweighed Rob by nearly two hundred pounds, that was the only way Rob could get him on the ground.
“Hell yeah, brought down by a li’l guy, huh, Tuck?”
“Shoulda gone runnin’, man…”
“Stick yo’ fist in his ass! Fist that hillbilly, man! What’s the dude’s name? Rob! Fist him, Rob!”
But before Rob could do anything but lick up all the sweat that had collected between Tuck’s shoulderblades, he oomphed as another football player landed on his back — it was Lake, that six-packed black halfback who didn’t quite jump (thankfully, since Rob’s delicate body would have been shattered) onto the pile, but he did flop rather awkwardly onto Rob’s back.
“Locker room tackle!”
Beneath Rob, Tuck groaned. He squirmed as Rob’s rock-hard cock rubbed against the small of his back, where a pool of sweat had developed. Rob was still clothed, but he wore just a pair of shorts and underwear, and his erection rubbed against the moist muscle of Tuck’s back.
“You got your fist in ‘im yet?” Lake asked with a laugh. He reached his big head down and kissed Tuck on the back of the head, prompting another wiggle from Tuck.
“More tackle!” Jimmy shouted.
“I can take it!” Tuck shouted. “Bring it on!” His voice was strained like he didn’t want to let on how difficult it was to breathe right now.
It wasn’t Jimmy who joined the tackle next, it was someone else — Rob couldn’t see who — and soon there were maybe four players atop Rob, who couldn’t really breathe. He could just barely sputter and take a gasping half-breath.
He didn’t mind though. His cock spasmed and leaked precum, which joined with the sweat in the small of Tuck’s back. “Hurry up and cum if you gonna,” Tuck said weakly.
And then Rob was distracted by Lake’s massive dick — it was still in his shorts, but he had either taken off the jockstrap (which seemed unlikely since somebody would have said something if they saw that) or his dick had popped out of it. Rob could feel Lake’s dick rub against Rob’s asscheeks, then slip into the crack.
Rob groaned. There was a shift in weight above him. He couldn’t see or hear, but it sounded like someone had gotten up, possibly replaced by someone else. Thick fingers even explored Rob’s crotch, apparently in search of Tuck’s ass.
“Gonna finger you, Tuck! But you’s already gettin’ it up the ass from the little guy, ain’t ya?”
“Hey, he is still alive, right? He ain’t crushed to death?”
“Say somethin’ sissy! Lemme hear you lisp!”
“I’m alive…” Rob said weakly. “I’m fine…” For some reason speaking sent a wave of pleasure through Rob, who realized he was going to cum like this whether he wanted to or not. That didn’t need to be too humiliating, since he had a feeling Lake was going to cum also.
“Ah, shit, Lake’s doin’ it, ain’t he?”
“I can’t help it, man, this nigga got balls!” Lake said. His booming voice echoed and resonated in Rob’s lungs, since Lake was pressed down on Rob’s back. It was clear that Lake tried to sound tough and nonplussed by the hundreds of pounds of muscle on his back, like he was dry humping because he wanted to and not because he was so young and horny he couldn’t resist.
Lake’s dark muscles writhed. His hips flexed the best he could, since he was in the middle of the tackle. He moaned, the sound making the hairs on the back of Rob’s neck stand up. The other guys in the tackle — who were all above Lake — laughed like this was a prank they were playing.
“Cum in Tuck’s ass, Lake! Teach him a lesson!”
If Tuck knew what was happening, he didn’t let on. He wiggled beneath Rob. Lake’s dick was right on Rob’s ass. The other team kept implying Lake could ram Tuck, but he couldn’t even if he wanted to and was able to move, because Rob was in the way. Rob couldn’t penetrate Tuck’s ass either, because he wasn’t positioned right on his asscrack and he couldn’t move with all the football players weighing him down.
In the end, Lake even came right before Rob, and it was the feeling of his hot, cum-soaked shorts dripping onto Rob’s back that sent Rob over the edge. The smell of cum filled the air. Rob spasmed and would have squirmed, but the only part of his body that could move at all were his fingers, which dug into the meat of Tuck’s body. Rob filled his own shorts with jizz, and some of it escaped the fabric, smearing up and down Tuck’s asscrack. Some of it must have gone into his butthole too, and still more trickled down between his legs to puddle up on the locker room floor.
“Ew, gross, he doin’ it!”
“He just want a big tip from the dude.”
“He gonna get the tip. Just the tip.”
Lake groaned. “Shut the fuck up!” His voice was weak now, having used all his energy to shout before and then cum into the messy tackle. He struggled to breathe under the weight of his own teammates.
Had anyone even realized that Rob himself had cum? He didn’t really think so. No one mentioned it. Tuck didn’t react as though a guy had dry-humped his ass until his cummy shorts left a layer of sperm on Tuck’s plump cheeks.
One by one, the football players climbed off the tackle pile. When Lake stood, his shorts were soaked. He pumped his biceps and his pecs, beaming at the assembled jocks. He swayed his hips, making that massive cock flop back and forth in his goopy shorts.
“Ew, nasty, man, you just dry-humped a man!”
“Why do you always cum in a locker room tackle?”
“Man, fuck you!” Lake said. “I cum whenever I want, man.” He grabbed his soaked cock through his shorts, so his shaft was outlined by the fabric. He reached into his shorts, stroked his dick one time so his hand was covered in cum, then tried to touch one of his teammates on the face.
“Get away from me, man!”
“C’m’ere, ain’t you wanna feel me, dawg? C’mon!” Lake cackled. He was so focused on that — Rob was positive Lake had cum despite his best efforts not to and was trying to cover it up with bluster and bullying his teammates — that Lake barely noticed Rob drop to his knees.
He had already cum, so when Rob pulled his shorts down and kissed his dick, Lake was startled and jumped. He grinned at the sensations arising from his sensitive shaft. Rob licked his dick from tip to root, lapping up every drop of cum he could access.
“Holy hell, the white dude really loves my cock.”
Lake writhed like it hurt. His massive dick was big even though it was limp, and Rob could feel how sensitive it was. He kept stroking it, even as Lake winced and shut his eyes. His muscles all flexed. He sat down on the bench as though he had planned to, but it was clear in the way his dick throbbed that he found this too exquisitely sensitive to remain standing while Rob lapped at his dick.
“Hey, you gonna jerk us all off, man?”
“Yeah… I mean… I got a girl, I don’t need it.”
“Me too. I get plenty of girls. But, y’know… If you wanted to…”
“He is payin’ money. We want him to get his money’s worth.”
Rob stood and held up his hand for silence. He felt good and exulted in their quietude and attention — he rarely felt like the center of attention around men like them.
“I’m not going to jerk you off,” Rob said. “But if you want to turn my throat into your pussy-” He laid on the back on the edge of the bench, so his head was angled over the corner. That put his face just below a low-hanging pair of sweaty balls — he couldn’t even tell whose because the jocks were crammed in so close together. He lifted his mouth up and suckled on them for just a second, prompting a chorus of nervous giggles. “I would be open to that. Why don’t I just lay here with my mouth open? You all can put whatever body part you want in there.”
It was Tuck who went first, like he wanted to reclaim his masculinity after the locker room tackle and being dry-humped. He stretched his muscles, smiled cockily and flopped his limp dick onto Rob’s face.
“Holy shit, I ain’t know he was gonna do that.”
“Is this a bukkake thing?”
“Bukkake the little dude!”
“You really into sweat?” Tuck asked. “Cuz I think I’m covered in all these motherfuckers’ sweat. Here…” He got down on his knees and lifted up his right arm. The overwhelmingly potent scent of his armpit assaulted Rob’s senses. He sniffed it loudly, and planted his face right there in the crook of his arm. Tuck guffawed as though he hadn’t expected Rob to actually do it.
As sweat coated Rob’s tongue and he gurgled, he lazily flopped his own dick between his fingers. He had already cum, but he had a feeling he would do it again if these football players all decided to bukkake him.
And then the hair of Tuck’s armpit was replaced by his fat cock. It slipped into his mouth, already hard, bulging, precum flowing over Rob’s tongue. He gurgled.
“Damn, this is nasty!”
“Paint his face white!”
“I got the cock you need, man,” said Jimmy, who clapped his hands and yelled at the others to shut up. Once he had silence, he dropped his jockstrap and placed it right on Rob’s nose, so Tuck’s balls slapped on it each time he humped his dick into Rob’s throat. Jimmy stood there, resplendent like a Greek god, his blond hair sweaty and matted to his head. He had a huge cock which he jutted forward to be sure everyone could see. “And this sissy made me promise to ram him in the ass. He said he needed the biggest cock on the team, or else there’d be no deal and none of us would’ve made a hundred bucks today…” He sighed dramatically.
None of that was true, but Rob didn’t intend to correct him. His mouth was full, for one thing, and he desperately wanted to get it up the ass. Jimmy hung his head as though being forced to do this as he straddled the bench and had Rob lift his legs up.
“You can do it, Jimmy!
“Takin’ one for the team, huh?”
“Bullshit, man, you guys see this, right? He wants to do it. Don’t make it seem like he’s sacrificin’ nothin’. He’s gettin’ booty. That ain’t a fuckin’ gift to us.”
“You wanna ram him, man?”
“No, I got girls beggin’ me to fuck ‘em. Mad pussy, yo! I’m just sayin’, anyone on this team would be doing it if that’s what the little dude wanted. It ain’t a big deal. We already all did it.”
That argument continued, but Rob was distracted. Two things happened at once, both of which were so huge and even difficult that Rob struggled to follow what was happening. First, Jimmy slid his dick in — it was clear he had a lot less experience with this than he had let on, he just forced it in and if Rob didn’t love being cornholed, it would have hurt a great deal — and he began humping Rob wildly. He showed off for his teammates by using all of his muscles when he stuck his dick into Rob. Secondly, Tuck groaned and came. That happened so suddenly that Rob didn’t even realize it wasn’t precum until Tuck was finishing up.
His load coated Rob’s tongue and the back of his mouth. It trickled down his throat. The intensely salty flavor assaulted Rob’s senses, mixing with the potent sweat that still filled his mouth.
“Fuck yeah! Gonna fill ya up, huh? You getting your money’s worth, ain’t ya?!” Tuck pumped his biceps as he rubbed his cock and balls over Rob’s face. “You sure you like this? It’s so fuckin’ nasty.”
Before Tuck could pull away, another player, George, had taken his place. His long, thick cock was already hard, and he must have been jacking off because he was already throbbing, his orgasm gathering like an approaching thunderstorm. Rob could feel it in his dick’s spasms in Rob’s throat.
He didn’t seem to notice that Rob had spat up most of Tuck’s cum. It flowed over the new cock in his mouth — that was a fullback named Will. Will had been the most popular football jock in his high school and had been annoyed that here at GHU, he was just another athlete, not even a first-stringer. He bragged about getting girls just like the other athletes, but he had only had sex with one girl since coming to college, and she wasn’t even very hot.
As Will sprayed his wad over Rob’s face, Rob sensed another player approaching him, the kicker Étienne. He was a Haitian immigrant, his upper body wiry, his lower half thick like a much larger man, and his trunk-like thigh muscles positively glowed because of the palm butter he rubbed into his skin every day. He masturbated into his own hand, looking at the naked pictures of girls in his locker. He sprayed his load into the palm of his hand.
He had planned on wiping all that cum off on Rob’s face, but when he was ready, his dark brown palm covered in goopy white cum, he didn’t want to touch him there. So he held his hand in front of Rob’s face — Rob was in between cocks at the time, Will having finished and two guys jousted near his face before Etienne pushed in front of them — and tipped his palm down. His cum stuck to his skin, but Rob raised his tongue and sucked it all off. He wanted to grab Etienne’s fingers and suck them each, maybe even play with that long, uncut cock. But he sensed that Etienne would have been uncomfortable with that.
“Don’t be squeamish, hoss! It’s just a little cum on yer balls!”
“Yeah, when we gangbanged that fat bitch, ain’t you get some cum on your dick then?
“Real men don’t care ‘bout that shit!”
Etienne was the only person who refused to participate. As those two players finished up in Rob’s mouth, jousting and denying how uncomfortable they were with it, Rob started stroking off whatever cocks he could grab.
Soon cum dripped in clumps off his face, and there was a puddle on the floor beneath his head. Rob was overwhelmed by pleasure as Jimmy’s cock began to tickle his prostate — Jimmy was so inexperienced at this that it took this long for him to get the hang of it.
Jimmy had been swearing to his teammates all year that he would fuck any female who gave up the ass. He said he refused to accept any girlfriend that didn’t let him in the ass. That means they’re not really on the pill, guys, that means they’re trying to trap you. He said he got every girl he dated to give up the booty, but Rob knew that wasn’t true. He shouldn’t have expected it to be true, since Jimmy had a massive cock — there were few women of any age or level of sluttitude who would be willing to take that it in the ass.
Rob’s ass was, in fact, only the second ass that Jimmy had ever penetrated, and he was the first whom Jimmy successfully fucked in the ass. His previous girlfriend had made him stop with less than a third of his dick inside her, and then she had frustrated him by refusing to let him in her pussy or mouth either because his dick smelled like ass. Jimmy had been so frustrated he beat up a couple of nerds on the way back to his dorm, then had angrily jacked himself off to Internet porn.
A Polynesian wide receiver named Poahi was the next to really ram Rob’s face. He alone had no compunctions about this whatsoever — on his home island in Samoa, there was a football coach who frequently jerked his players off. That was an expected, normal part of life for rugby jocks in Samoa. Poahi had been surprised to learn that didn’t happen in America.
So he alone made love to Rob’s face. The others didn’t want to touch Rob any more than necessary, but Poahi didn’t care. His planted his uncut cock in Rob’s throat, letting his balls drag over Rob’s nose and make a mess of the soup of loads he had taken on his face so far. Poahi smeared around the jizz with his fingers.
“Gonna paint yo’ balls white, Poahi!”
Someone shot their load right on Poahi’s balls. Most of the cum dripped down onto Rob’s face and forehead, and the entire team erupted in nervous laughter. The salty creaminess of whoever’s cum made Rob moan around the shaft of Polynesian meat throbbing in his throat.
“Let’s bukkake his sac!”
They had started off this day thinking that Rob would just lick their biceps and jack off in the hamper as he sniffed their jockstraps. Then they had accepted a little more contact, and a little more, and then they had agreed to bukkake him.
“I’m gonna nut on his ear, man, let’s drown that little guy!”
But now the remaining players were trying to make this as gross as possible, just to see if they could — none of them wanted to be the squeamish one who backed out. Poahi remained dick-deep in Rob’s throat, his heavy body leaning forward so there was plenty of room for the other players to cum on his massive ballsack.
All Rob could see was that scrotum, and all he could smell was football sweat. Poahi had always preferred American football to rugby, and he had been overjoyed to be accepted by an American university. He could have played professional rugby, but the Samoan team was barely paid anything. He hoped to make it into the NFL, and he really didn’t see why the other players reacted like it was weird for him to allow them all to cum on his balls.
“His throat feels like a nice, smooth pussy,” Poahi said, shrugging at this teammates, who were shocked at how little disgust he had with the situation.
Finally there were maybe fifteen loads on Poahi’s scrotum. It felt like another whole layer of flesh, like the cum that stuck to his hairy skin was palpably heavy. He pulled his dick out and plopped his balls in Rob’s mouth before Rob could even take a deep breath.
That was it for both Poahi and Jimmy, who reached orgasm as his cock tickled Rob’s prostate. Rob tasted an explosion of cum like he had never experienced before, as fifteen loads landed on his tongue at once, and a sixteenth erupted on his face at the same time from one of the backup tight ends who had been waiting for his turn.
Poahi moaned and felt up his massive pecs, while his low-hanging balls overflowed from Jimmy’s mouth. Poahi had always loved it when women handled his sensitive sac, and he groaned. His nipples were hard beneath his fingers. Rob tried to jack him off as he sucked on Poahi’s balls, but it was difficult because Poahi was simply huge — at more than seven feet tall and four hundred pounds, he was so wide that Jimmy could barely reach around his waist to stroke his dick.
He was also distracted by Jimmy, who groaned as he shot his load inside Rob’s ass. Jimmy’s handsome face tensed up, and his muscles flexed — he was momentarily self-conscious as the team cheered him on, and he felt tiny in comparison to Poahi.
“Ram his ass, Jimmy! Destroy it! Show him who’s boss!”
Poahi exclaimed in Samoan. Cum spurted out of Poahi uncut cock and coated Rob’s fingers, spraying over Rob’s chest, as his balls rose up in his sac in Rob’s mouth. Poahi shifted awkwardly, moaning. Since Rob had trouble reaching his dick, it was an uncomfortably intense orgasm, Poahi struggling and squirming, dragging his cum-soaked ballsack over Rob’s face.
Meanwhile hot cum flowed into his ass. Jimmy grunted and clapped. He made sure to pull his dick out all the way so everyone could see how big it was — it was even bigger than Poahi’s, which Jimmy was proud of and he wanted everyone to know it since he had a feeling most of them just assumed that a beefy giant like Poahi must have a beefy giant cock.
Intense pleasure shuddered through Jimmy’s body. He shot a gigantic load that filled up Rob’s tight ass. Jimmy kept plowing back and forth and laughed as he did, and his teammates slapped him on the ass. Jimmy tried to pretend his orgasm wasn’t as intense as it really was because he didn’t want to seem inexperienced.
“Naasty…”
“This locker room is gross. Smells like a fuckin’ brothel. Smells like that fat chicks sorority house.”
“Hell yeah! We should go over there later.”
At last it was over. Most of the players had already wandered off to the showers. Practice wasn’t over, but they were sweaty, covered in each other’s sweat, and most of them had at least one person’s cum dripping from their body. So while the lacrosse team was still on the field, they went in for a quick shower.
“How was that, man?” Jimmy asked as the other players filed out.
“Amazing,” Rob said. His voice was weak and wavery. It was almost four o’clock. That was as far as he had paid for, so it was about time for him to leave.
“You done?”
“Yeah,” Rob said. “Is it okay if I just lay here for a bit? I’m not sure I can get up right now.”
Jimmy snickered. “Oh? Did I ram you too good?”
“You did it just right,” Rob said with a giggle. “But yes. Besides, maybe somebody will want some one on one attention when they’re done showering.”