sissies – Mansploitation

The Cocky Pimp Bottoms

Jay Bone is a pimp who only lets one man cut his hair… the twinky barber Desmond, who’s also willing to service every inch of Jay bone’s body. But Jay Bone has an interesting offer on Desmond’s birthday, cuz this alpha male pimp is willing to experience a twink on top!

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Desmond was glad to see Jay Bone come into his barbershop for two reasons. First of all, it had been a slow day and Desmond could use the tip — Jay Bone was a pimp, which meant he was very particular about who cut his hair. He only accepted Desmond. He was a good tipper, so Desmond was glad to cut his hair. The second reason Desmond was glad to see Jay Bone was that Jay Bone always gave Desmond a swing on his dick after his haircut. His delicious dick made Desmond’s mouth water, and Jay Bone had a powerful body brimming with muscle, along with a handsome face that made the girls come running.
Hence, he was a pimp. Desmond eagerly invited him to sit down in his barber’s chair with the same fervor all his bitches promised to please him.
Jay Bone strode in wearing his powder-blue suit with a pink tie and an azure fedora, like an old-school cabbie’s hat. He was dipping and dapping, walking to his own rhythm. He was tall and stately like a skyscraper, and he commanded attention like a white man with a clipboard. Everybody turned to look at his mug, he got a handsome face but an ugly nose, which somehow accentuated the handsomeness of his face.
Though everyone looked at him, conversation stopped when he entered and didn’t resume until he spoke. That was because he exuded authority like sweat and because he was a Crip. The Cityside Barbershop of Lawndale was not a gang-affiliated business, but it was in a Bloods neighborhood and everyone who worked there, including Desmond, was Bloods-affiliated.
Jay Bone came in all the time. It wasn’t forbidden for a Crip to come into a Bloods barbershop. But it did make all the niggas and homies in the waiting room shush their mugs and avoid looking at him. All except Desmond, in whose chair Jay Bone sat.
“How you doin’, Desmond-wit’-a-Geo? You got a new tattoo, huh, I ain’t seen that one?” Jay Bone always called Desmond Desmond-wit’-a-Geo because Desmond used to have a Chevy Geo, and he stopped to give Jay Bone a ride once. That car had been totaled in an accident two years ago, but Jay Bone was fixated on it — he was the kind of nigga who picked one fact about each person and repeated it often as though it showed that he cared about others. Of course, his inability to update that fact when it changed made him seem like he was incapable of caring about anyone other than himself.
But Desmond was willing to forgive him for all of his faults, as long as he got the chance to swing on that meat once in a while. “Yeah, I just got it a month ago-“
“You the man, Desmond, I only let you cut my hair, nigga. My hair’s too perfect to let any nigga touch it. You’s a fool if you let anyone but a sissy cut yo’ hair. Sissies and bitches, in that order, that’s who know how to cut hair,” he said. He paused thoughtfully. “And Italian men. I dunno what it is ’bout them, they can do it. You know any Italian barbers, Desmond-wit’-a-Geo?”
“No. Well, one, I think but he-” As usual, Jay Bone didn’t let Desmond get a word in. He always took over the conversation like this, asking questions without listening for an answer. He only spoke in monologues.
“Not in Baltimore, course. Them guidos is in Jersey and shit,” Jay Bone said. “We only got Pollacks here. You know about Pollacks? They’s like white people but retarded and uuuh-uuuugly!”
“Uh-huh.” Desmond just got started on the haircut, nodding along with Jay Bone. There was no point in trying to really talk to him. Conversation resumed in the rest of the shop. No one wanted to get on Jay Bone’s bad side, so everyone kept their voices lower than his.
“I got this new bitch, Desmond. You’d like her. She Spanish or some shit, half-Spanish, I think. Like Colombian. Is El Dorado a real place? She might be from El Dorado. She got a nice fat ass. Gonna get you over some time to get me off so she can see it though. She don’t suck a nigga dick worth a damn. Need a fuckin’ map and compass to find it and shit,” Jay Bone said as Desmond cut his hair and nodded along. “Got a mouth like a puppy’s water bowl. You know this nigga need more ‘an that!”
“Sounds like a doll.”
“Yeah, she got ass that don’t quit. She can learn about the blowjobs. That’s teachable. You can’t teach ass, that’s what I always say, nigga.”
“Yeah.”
“That shit is inborn, y’know. Reckon ya get that from yo’ mama. That’s prolly where sissy come from too. When yo’ mama bigger than yo’ daddy,” he said.
“My mom is tiny,” Desmond said. “She-“
“I mean big in spirit,” he said. He glowered at Desmond like he didn’t like to be contradicted.
“Oh, uh… yeah, I guess maybe.” Desmond wrinkled his nose. Jay Bone glared at him and Desmond didn’t want to antagonize him. “She got spirit.”
“Yup. That’s it,” he said as Desmond finished up the haircut. “You busy on Saturday? You can come over and jerk me off, show her how. Gonna have to be early though, she gotta work in the evening. She got a legion of johns and jimmies lookin’ to run up and down that snatch, and you know Jay Bone do provide!”
“Hmm… I’ve got, uh… not plans, exactly, uh… this weekend. It’s my birthday. Technically today, actually,” Desmond said. He was glad to have a subtle way to throw that in there because he thought Jay Bone would give him a bigger tip as a birthday present. It would be grubby to ask.
“Yo’ birthday is today?”
Desmond nodded. He took Jay Bone’s money and a satisfyingly generous tip, then smiled at him, gesturing towards the backroom. Jay Bone nodded and followed him that way. The other barbers and customers were visibly relieved that he was gone, and conversation became louder the moment the door to the backroom shut.
“Happy birthday, nigga.”
“Thanks.”
The back of the Cityside Barbershop was a dusty old storage area, with an office at the far end, next to the door leading to the alley behind the building. The owner — Johnny Cee — strictly forbade anyone from using the office when he wasn’t there, and he had told Desmond on numerous occasions not to use it to jerk niggas off.
But that was where Jay Bone went. That was where he always went. He knew Johnny Cee didn’t want him there, which was precisely why he did it. Johnny Cee didn’t get mad, and he didn’t blame Desmond for it. He knew nobody could tell Jay Bone no.
Not that Desmond wanted to tell him no. As Jay Bone pushed a stack of papers off the sturdy table in one corner of the room, Desmond admired the twisting of his muscles beneath that powder-blue suit. He had a big, broad body with a square jaw and rippling flesh, like a Hollywood-Hercules but dressed like a colorful pimp. When the table was clear he sighed as though having second thoughts about this.
Desmond sunk to his knees. “Is somethin’ wrong, sugar? Lemme show you what’s right…”
“Just thinkin’ some thoughts, lil queer,” Jay Bone said. Then he grunted and frowned at Desmond. “Gonna give you a birthday present, Desmond. You gonna enjoy, cuz of course you will. You game?”
“Uh… for what?” Desmond wondered if he was going to give weed, which Desmond would enjoy, or maybe cocaine, which Desmond would also enjoy but wished he wouldn’t offer. Desmond knew he wouldn’t turn it down though.
It was his birthday weekend, after all.
“Seven minutes, nigga. You get seven minutes in heaven, got it? That’s my birthday present to you. That’s seven birthday presents, really. You keep yo’ mouth shut about dis. You tell people you jerked me off,” he said. He took a deep breath. “But you can have yo’ way wit’ me fo’ seven minutes. I ain’t nevuh been wit’ a nigga… y’know, like that. I ain’t nevuh take dick in the ass. I gave a nigga head once in the joint. Nasty. Don’t tell no one that neither, or I’ll shove yo’ dick down yo’ throat. You gonna love this! Jay Bone got a killer body, all over, dick, ass, balls, shit, his toes is worth a million bucks apiece. Know dat!”
“Wait, so…?”
He scowled and furrowed his eyebrows. “You got seven minutes. You can make me do anything you want fo’ seven minutes. You can plow my ass, make me swallow yo’ dick, whatever you want. Jay Bone is a full-service kinda nigga, y’know. I would give you seven minutes wit’ one of my bitches, but I know you wouldn’t know what to do wit’ ’em,” he said. “My bitches needta be treated propuh! Proper as pandas!” He took out his cell phone and set up the timer.
“Ain’t you gonna take off your clothes?”
“Nah, nigga. That’s part of yo’ seven minutes,” Jay Bone said with a mean grin.
His mind raced. Desmond hurriedly took off his own clothes before Jay Bone was ready with the timer. He blushed, certain he looked like a drooling idiot. But he was glad to have the chance to plow Jay Bone — there was no way anyone would ever believe him anyway, so Desmond had intention of telling anyone.
“Yo’ time starts… now,” Jay Bone said. He put his phone down. This was all happening so fast that Desmond had trouble adjusting. He had a feeling that was part of Jay Bone’s plan — by flummoxing Desmond, he could still give this “present” without giving Desmond the chance to take full advantage of it like he might be able to if he had known this was going to happen.
“Uh… okay, you gotta get down on yo’ knees,” Desmond said, his voice wavering. He wasn’t used to telling alpha males what to do, and this situation felt especially awkward because Jay Bone was more than a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier than Desmond. Every fiber of Desmond’s being told him to get down on his knees instead. He was the thin twink, so that’s the position he felt he was “supposed” to be in. Topping Jay Bone felt like a transgression, Desmond thought, whose nervous voice repeated his request, “Get down on yo’ knees, nigga.”
Jay Bone did so. Even on his knees he was much to tall to jerk Desmond’s dick. He had to stoop down even lower than that. He inhaled deeply of Desmond’s dick as though he enjoyed the scent, though when he looked back he wrinkled his nose.
“You smell like coconut, nigga,” he said, over-enunciating like he either hated coconut or loved it. Before Desmond could ask which, pangs of pleasure shot up his body as Jay Bone swallowed his dick. His mouth encircled Desmond’s shaft.
He didn’t do this like someone who had only ever done it once, in prison, Desmond thought. He wasn’t about to say that though, that was a sure way to raise Jay Bone’s massive ire.
The sensation wracking his body was incredible, made all the more intense by the awkwardity of the situation — Jay Bone’s fumbling tongue, his hesitant movements, his scratchy scruffy chin rubbing against Desmond’s flesh. Desmond rumbled and moaned so loud it was audible in the frontroom of the barbershop.
“Yo, Desmond havin’ a good time! Jay Bone must be feedin’ him all kind of birthday meat!”
“Nigga frontin’-!”
“Sit’cha ass down!”
“Jay Bone doin’ it right, Desmond?!”
They wouldn’t be teasing Jay Bone if there was some chance Jay Bone recognized their voices. The men in the front room laughed in a mixture of bravado and anxiety. Though most of them let Desmond jerk them off from time to time, they all tried to keep it more discrete than Jay Bone did. None of them would ever even think about jerking Desmond off instead.
But Jay Bone was doing it, and he wasn’t even hesitant or reluctant. He did it like he knew what he was doing and enjoyed it. He deep-throated Desmond to the root, and he snuck his tongue out to lick Desmond’s shaft, making Desmond shift his weight between his feet and suck on his breath.
“Goddamn, Jay Bone… Holy fuck… who taught you how to do this?” Desmond’s hands clutched Jay Bone’s head, upon which was still balanced his blue fedora. It was much darker than his suit, and Desmond worried he would leave fingerpints on it — no doubt resulting in Jay Bone admonishing him and making him pay to have it drycleaned — so Desmond let go of it right away.
Spit dripped in great gobs down Desmond’s shaft. Jay Bone’s mouth was loud and moist, exactly the way Desmond loved it. He bucked his hips to help Jay Bone swallow every inch of his meat, snaking his dick down Jay Bone’s tight throat.
Desmond was deeply aware of the time ticking away. He saw the timer on Jay Bone’s cell phone display, sitting on the desk in the center of the office. Desmond reached down to undo Jay Bone’s pink tie and take his jacket off.
It was awkward, to say the least. Jay Bone made no effort to make it easy for Desmond, though he didn’t go out of his way to make it difficult. Desmond’s fingers fumbled as he strained to reach Jay Bone’s shirt-buttons, but he eventually managed to get it unbuttoned and off.
Then he shuddered. His knees went weak. His hard cock spasmed, and for the first time, Jay Bone let out an intense moan, making a sound for the first time. It wasn’t clear if it was a moan of disgust or delight now that he tasted precum. It was hot and creamy, and Desmond felt it spewing out into Jay Bone’s mouth.
The precum flowed down his throat. Desmond had never felt himself emit so much, but this was such an awe-inspiring situation that he couldn’t stop himself. The precum was voluminous and thick, and it coated Jay Bone’s tongue.
Desmond gasped and threw his head back. His mind said to move on to anal. He only had five and a half minutes left — had it really only been a minute and a half? But it was tough to tear his cock away from such unimaginable bliss inside Jay Bone’s mouth.
“Okay, uh, take off your pants,” Desmond said. His voice sounded impossibly weak and tinny in the cramped office. Jay Bone sighed and growled. Desmond felt a surge of fear as Jay Bone pulled off and stood, like he might be about to attack Desmond. “I mean… if you want to…”
“It’s yo’ birthday, nigga. I do whatevuh you want,” he said with a grin. “I wanna see why my bitches complain so much about gettin’ stuck in the ass. You got a big dick?”
“Uh… It’s pretty big,” Desmond said. He blushed.
Jay Bone knelt against the table, but again, he was much too tall for that to work. Desmond chuckled and smacked his cheeks to tell him to get down lower. “You’re bending over like I do,” Desmond said. “But I’m shorter than you. We can’t just reverse positions and expect that to work.”
“Alright, lil queer, I get it, I’s pickin’ up what you puttin’ down,” Jay Bone said. He sunk all the way to the ground on his knees, crouched over. He dropped his powder-blue slacks and the silk boxers he always wore, revealing a perfectly plump, smooth brown ass. He sighed and shook his head.
“There you go, that’s good, nigga,” Desmond said. He tried to sound like a deep-voiced thug, like Jay Bone, but that only accentuated how flamboyant and effeminate his actual voice was. Both he and Jay Bone laughed.
Desmond’s instincts said to dive in head-first and lick his ass — Desmond loved giving Jay Bone a rimjob on those rare occasions when he allowed it (he always said he saved rimjobs so he could make his hos do it as punishment, he didn’t want to cheapen it). Besides that, this was a special occasion and Desmond didn’t want to waste it doing something he could talk Jay Bone into anytime. So Desmond grabbed the bottle of lube he kept around for emergencies and got started.
When he saw that there were just barely four minutes left, Desmond got excited. He slathered half a tube of lube on his cock just because he was in too much of a hurry to measure out a smaller amount. The goopy lube dripped onto the floor.
“Damn, calm down, Desmond,” Jay Bone said with a nervous chuckle.
Desmond blushed. “Sorry. You put a time limit on this, I gotta hurry,” he said, and his plaintive tone made Jay Bone laugh again. It was a deep, cocky barrel-laugh, which the men in the frontroom apparently interpreted as some sort of victorious alpha male grunt, and they all hooted and clapped.
Desmond rammed his dick in, and Jay Bone let out a loud, pained growl — which he turned partway through into a grunt, seemingly putting on a show for the folks in the frontroom. Again, they must have heard because they clapped and cheered Desmond on. They all assumed Desmond was bottoming, jerking Jay Bone off or even taking it in the ass. Nobody would have ever even made a joke about Jay Bone bottoming instead.
“Sorry, sorry,” Desmond said. “I didn’t meant to make it hurt.”
“That’s alright. My bitches is whinin’ like hell. You got substantial meat, nigga, and it ain’t that… bad,” he winced on that last word, and twisted his body as Desmond ground his dick into Daddy’s Rico’s ass.
Desmond couldn’t help but giggle. It looked like Jay Bone now understood why his hos complained about getting rammed in the ass. He grunted and his chest heaved.
“You’re loosenin’ up, nigga, it’ll get easier,” Desmond said. He patted Jay Bone on the arm and shuddered. Normally Jay Bone was so strict about touching. He didn’t let Desmond touch most of his body, no grabbing his ass, no tweaking his nipples under the shirt, and no kissing. So Desmond had never really gotten an opportunity to feel those incredible muscles.
The nicest thing about Jay Bone’s body, Desmond thought, was that it wasn’t perfect. He didn’t have a six-pack, though he came close. He had a big thick body, bulging in all the right places, brimming with power, swagger and strength. If he had time, Desmond would have gladly licked him from head to toe like a cat cleaning its kitten.
Then, like a switch had been flicked, Jay Bone changed. His pained grunting changed to an aroused moan, and Desmond could tell even though he couldn’t see that Jay Bone had gotten hard. He smiled. Obviously, he thought, he had discovered the location of Jay Bone’s prostate.
Desmond reached around him and grabbed ahold of his dick. “This is called a reacharound,” Desmond said. “It’s polite to give a reacharound when you plow a nigga in the ass-“
“I ain’t nevuh doin’ that, lil queer. You can stop bringin’ that up right now,” Jay Bone said. “But you go ahead. I like that.” He shook his head and whinnied like a horse, as though he was surprised — and maybe a bit frightened — by how much he enjoyed getting it up behind.
Now that Desmond had found Jay Bone’s prostate, he knew how to make it feel good.
He had never before topped with a man so much bigger than himself, and it was a nice change of pace, even if the positioning was awkward and difficult. The more he rammed back and forth and the more passionately Jay Bone reacted, the more Desmond struggled to hold back his climax.
By the time he felt his orgasm rising, Desmond was on his toes, using both hands to grip Jay Bone’s back and slam his hips down over and over. Luckily he had used so much lube — and Jay Bone was simply a big man — that Desmond slid easily in and out of Jay Bone’s tight ass.
“Damn, nigga, damn damn damn…”
Much to Desmond’s surprise, his own orgasm was interrupted by Jay Bone himself shooting his load. He gave little indication beforehand, as though he was just as shocked as Desmond was. All of a sudden Jay Bone’s cock throbbed and spasmed in Desmond’s hand, and cum sprayed over Desmond’s fingers. It landed in a big creamy clump on the floor.
But still he kept cumming. His massive body bucked and writhed beneath Desmond’s grasp, until eventually Desmond wasn’t on the ground at all. He was born aloft by Jay Bone’s broad back, to which Desmond held on for dear life, grinding his cock into Jay Bone as the seconds tumbled away on the timer.
“Can you turn your head and kiss me?” Desmond asked, his voice low and breathless. His climax bubbled just under the surface.
Jay Bone smiled and did so. Again, it was awkward — he had to strain his head back, and Desmond had to crawl up his shoulders to reach. But he first gave Jay Bone his hand, which dripped with Jay Bone’s own cum.
He gave no hint of hesitation before grabbing Desmond’s wrist with his big meaty hand, and sucking up every drop of his own cum of Desmond’s fingers. He bucked and writhed as though he was both disgusted and aroused by the flavor, and he slurped on Desmond’s hand like he tried to drain it of juices.
“Fifteen seconds left, nigga,” Jay Bone said, his voice tense like he was eager for it to be over. He sighed as he licked the last of his own cum off Desmond’s fingers.
Then he kissed Desmond without a moment’s hesitation. The taste of cum flooded Desmond’s mouth, the smear of semen all over Jay Bone’s face colliding with the sweat that dripped down Desmond’s cheeks. Desmond had never kissed anyone like that.
At last Desmond’s own body erupted in orgasm. “Ah, fuckin’ hell!” he roared as cum sprayed into Jay Bone’s broad ass.
The orgasm lasted for what felt like forever, though judging from the timer, it was more like thirty seconds. The timer went off near the end as Desmond shuddered. The beeping was impossibly loud, resonating in Desmond’s ears as he filled Jay Bone with his load.
“Shit yeah…” Jay Bone muttered. Desmond could do little more than bark and yelp into Jay Bone’s tattooed back.
The most unimaginable pleasure in his life wracked Desmond’s body. He dug his nails into Jay Bone’s meaty muscles, and he licked all the sweat off where it collected between the man’s broad shoulderblades. He writhed there, precariously balance on Jay Bone, for what felt like forever.
His thin twink limbs contorted, and he dug into Jay Bone’s body. Jay Bone just smiled wryly, rolling his eyes as Desmond’s dick jabbed into him over and over. It was a big, thick and creamy load, which dripped out of Jay Bone’s ass and onto the floor between his trunk-like thighs. It clung to his skin and the hair of his crotch.
“Alright, nigga, you done,” Jay Bone said. He flicked the timer off. “Was that seven minutes in heaven?”
“It certainly was.”
Jay Bone let out a long chest-rattling moan. He glared at Desmond like he was mad at him. “You said you was busy on Saturday, right? What about Sunday?”
“Yeah, I’m free.”
“Good. I’m gonna throat you so hard yo’ mama gags,” he said. He bristled and straightened his back like he wanted to recapture his swaggerous mojo now that he had taken dick in the ass. “You can show my new ho how to take it right.”
“Okay,” Desmond said. He was too tired to think about it now, but he thought he would enjoy that.
“I ain’t gonna have no mercy, Desmond, this nigga can ball!” he said, adding an inscrutable hand gesture that involved snapping his fingers. “You know how I do. I plow hard. Know dat!”
“Yeah,” Desmond said with a grin. “You taught me well.”

The Construction Worker

Avery likes to hang out near a construction site, so he can service whichever alpha needs a nut after work. When one older worker comes to him, Avery is eager to help him out by relieving his relentless stiffy!

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Elton George virtually sprinted out of the construction site. He tried to slow himself down, to match his coworkers, because he didn’t want to look like a little boy when school just let out. Some of them strode slowly as though it didn’t matter.
Indeed, it didn’t matter. The construction site was miles from the city, there was nothing around here, no place to run to, no reason to hurry. Running didn’t get you home any quicker. They had to wait for the bus. Jambone Construction paid for the charter bus to bring them to and from the construction site every day. So Elton knew they had some twenty minutes, maybe more, to wait for the bus.
“You nasty! You so nasty!”
“She was fuckin’ fat! You should-a saw it when she got outta her car, man, the whole thing lifted up like six inches, and it wheezed like my dad gettin’ outuva chair-“
“You yungin’s don’t even know, the fattest cat is the baddest pussy,” said Cooter, who let out a crass wheezing laugh. Everyone else joined in laughing with him — or maybe at him, or a bit of both. Elton couldn’t decide. Cooter was the oldest one here. The other workers were all in their mid to late twenties, but Cooter was well past fifty years old.
And he wasn’t even in charge of the work-crew. Elton would be ashamed if he was that old and he was still just a construction worker.
“Oh, there’s that creep.”
They all got quiet as they got close to the bus stop. While this area was rural, there was a small building here — a warehouse for a medical supply company. It was not far from the highway and conveniently located between some major cities, so it made sense as a location for a warehouse. There was one employee at the warehouse.
That employee was Avery, who liked to check out Elton and the other construction workers at the end of the day. His summer vacation was almost over, and then it’d be back to college. For now though, he was enjoying the weather and appreciating the physiques of the workers who walked past his warehouse every afternoon.
Hushing up and filing to the bus stop, nobody turned to look at Avery, even though he waved.
“It’s Africa-hot today!”
“I’s sweaty as a hog,” said Paul Del Toro, who had taken his shirt off. Most of the workers did so whenever they got off-duty. It was hot this time of year, sweltering, sweat pouring down their bodies. Paul had a six-pack like a movie star, and he liked to show it off. Elton wasn’t jealous though — Paul had a six-pack and carved muscles but also a weird bulgey butterface, making him as ugly as a punch to the face. Paul glanced over to Avery. “That sissy is watchin’…”
“Sissies ain’t into yo’ stanky ass, Paul-“
“He prolly want my nigga ass,” Jaycee said, prompting an outpouring of laughs, as Jaycee lifted up his shirt as though to show off a six-pack like Paul’s. Jaycee didn’t have a six-pack. He always bragged about picking up chicks, but that was in part because he liked his females as thick as him, or moreso, and didn’t mind what their faces looked like — as he said, I prefers ’em bendin’ over anyhow, so I don’t see they faces much. Jaycee laughed along with them, and said, “Watch, he gonna be cummin’ in his drawers.” He bent over to tie his sneaker, aiming his ass right at the sissy man in front of the warehouse across the way. Jaycee shook his ass.
Everyone oohed and aahed, sneaking glances at the college boy Avery — who was maybe seventy feet away, looking in this direction, but not seemingly aware that Jaycee was bent over and waving his ass at him. Then Cooter — the older white guy with silver hair and a scruffy beard that made him look homeless — rammed one hand into Jaycee’s jeans as he said, “Watch out, he gonna stick it up ya rear, Jaycee!”
Jaycee yelped and jumped away. His deep voice bellowed. “Ah, man, Cooter, you nearly got in my asshole-“
Elton and the others all laughed so hard their sides hurt. That was just like Cooter too — he often called the others squeamish about male contact. He said the younger generations were wusses. Elton had once been pissing on a tree when Cooter came up to piss next to him and talked to him, cock hanging freely, so close Elton couldn’t help but look at it. Cooter hadn’t even realized that was weird. Elton hadn’t been able to tear his eyes away from that veiny shaft — which was huge and intimidating, hoggish, knobbled, like an animal’s organ that had been grafted onto Cooter’s body.
“Shit, Cooter, you touched his asshole-“
“Shut the fuck up-” Cooter grumbled. He smacked Paul in the back of the head. “You boys is a bunch of motherfuckin’ squeamish whippersnappers. You know we used to shower after work e’ry day, and now we can’t on account of kids like you boys get all scared ’bout queers as soon as you gotta look at a real man’s dick. A real man can see another man wit’out goin’ squeamy, ya feel me?” He pulled his dick out, lowering his pants enough to bare it and then pulling his shirt off — revealing a broad chest covered in grayish hair — so his crotch was more visible.
“Ah, shit!”
“He whipped it out!”
“That old fart took his dick out!”
“Ah, fuck! Put that old-man dick away!”
“Hey, what’s that? There’s a note.” Jaycee noticed it first. There was a piece of paper taped to the bus-stop sign. Jaycee read it. “Who wants to blow a nut? I’ll give fifty bucks to whoever comes to my warehouse and lets me service their body on the downlow. Signed, Avery. P.S. No condom and yes I swallow.”
A long awkward silence filled the air. Then Paul laughed, and the others all joined in. Jaycee clutched his belly and grabbed his crotch, aiming his cock towards the warehouse. The men there waved awkwardly.
“Yo, man, you nasty! No one wanna do that shit!” Jaycee yelled to him.
“Fuckin’ gross! He prolly takin’ in nut from all kinda hobos and shit!”
“I gots females, man, I got female beggin’ for my meat. Ain’t doin’ nothin’ sissy for fifty bucks!” Vic de Santo yelled, throwing his hands in the air.
“You fuckheads don’t know what’s up, does ya dick even work? How else you gonna pass the time that’s better than dippin’ ya dick in some bitch?” Cooter said, running his fingers through his greasy white hair. His shirt was off, wadded up and dangling from the back of his workpants. He touched his bare chest like he was nervously thinking about it. Again, everyone fell silent as it became apparent Cooter was going to do it. “Fifty bucks? And you get ya dick wet? Man, back in my day-“
“Back in yo’ day slutty dinosaurs sucked you off?”
“Man, Cooter-!”
“You so old, man, I don’t even think he meant you-“
“Yeah, he want some young meat. Nobody do like an old man.”
“He prolly assumed your dick ain’t work, Cooter. He ain’t even think you might do it.”
“He might not even be able to tell that you old, Cooter, he never seen us up close.”
Cooter turned around. “If you fuckheads ain’t bold enough, stay here and pull ya goddamn puds. I’m-a go get my dick wet.” He walked away, towards the warehouse, leaving the others to cackle him up.
“Sorry, uh, Mister Sissy Dude! He ain’t know how old he is, he still think he a young buck!”
“You can just give him some hard candy and he’ll go away!”
Cooter growled as he approached the warehouse. The young sissy, Avery, lounged against the wall. “Hmmm… Hi,” Avery said.
“Howdy. I’m Cooter,” Cooter said. His voice was gruff and rough-hewn, like he lined his throat with river rocks. He looked Avery up and down. “You a punk, huh? You wanna get it up the ass? You gonna pay?”
Avery smiled nonchalantly. “I like to be wooed.” He held out a hand, which Cooter took and kissed the back of. He ignored the whooping shouts from his coworkers. Cooter’s callused hands ran up Avery’s arm, feeling his smooth skin. Then Cooter forcibly pushed Avery face-first into the wall. Avery grunted and gripped the brick. Cooter rammed his hand down Avery’s pants and touched his asscheeks, then his hole. He didn’t finger him, he just touched the rim and let go. Avery’s heart skipped a beat. “Oh, you brute! You’re so rough!”
Cooter grunted. “I know you prolly wanted them young bucks, but you got me. They’s all a bunch of squeamish nancies. They scared you gonna turn ’em into bitches.” He put his hands on his hips. “Pardon my French, that’s the word I use.”
“I don’t think that was French,” Avery said with a giggle. He touched one of Cooter’s nipples, then played with some of the sweat-dappled fur of his chest. “You’re all sweaty and dirty.”
“What’d you think was gonna happen? I just got off work.”
“I wasn’t complaining,” Avery said. He leaned in and kissed Cooter on the chest. The taste was sour and salty, with a muskiness like the smell of clothes that had sat in the closet all winter. “It was just an observation.” Avery licked a trail from his chest up to his neck.
But then Cooter gruffly shoved his head away. “Nah. You can touch me below the neck. C’mon, let’s go,” Cooter said. He walked into the warehouse. “Be quick, I don’t wanna miss my bus. And you best pay me. If you stiff me, motherfucker, I will kick your ass so hard ya farts fall out.”
“Yes, daddy,” Avery said. He came up close behind Cooter, whose weathered skin was taut over his looping back muscles. Cooter bristled but didn’t complain as Avery licked his broad shoulders — he had, after all, said Avery could touch him below the neck all he wanted.
Inside the warehouse were long rows of shelves filled with medical supplies. Cooter grunted at the sight of them. “You got Tonaltia?”
“Hmmm…?” Avery’s mind didn’t quite process his question because he focused on the grimy dust that clung to Cooter’s body hair. Avery sunk to his knees behind Cooter, who looked over the rows of goods. Avery pulled down Cooter’s mud-caked workpants, revealing a pair of tattered, threadbare boxers. Avery pulled them down too and kissed Cooter’s asscheeks. His old-man dick flopped out.
“You got Tonaltia here? It’s a lotion, it’s medicated but it’s over-the-counter.”
“I dunno, I don’t think so,” Avery said.
Cooter was quiet for a moment. “If you want, you can pay me in Tonaltia. That’s shit’s expensive. If you got a case of it here-“
“Hmmm…” Avery finally realized what he was saying, and the word Tonaltia hit his brain. “Oh, yeah, we got that. I can say a box got ruined due to mice or something, they’ll send us a replacement box.” He quickly went and found one. It had twenty bottles of Tonaltia in it — worth close to two hundred bucks at retail.
Cooter stood there waiting with his pants and boxers around his ankles. His prick dangled freely. He grabbed the box and seemed satisfied, like he would have gladly walked out with his pants still down. But he stood still, box in hand.
“Alright then, sissy, get to whatevuh it is you wanna do,” Cooter said. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked down at his feet, where Avery kneeled once more. Avery didn’t use his hands, he bent his head over and chased Cooter’s cock with his mouth.
Cooter harrumphed and used his hands instead — he grabbed Avery’s head and fed his dick down. “Quit playin’ wit’ it, man, young fellers is always playin’ and shit. Take it serious.” He started fucking Avery’s throat immediately, even though his dick was soft and rubbery.
Avery didn’t mind. It gave him a chance to deep-throat Cooter’s dick while it was still limp, and he slathered it with spit. He suckled loudly, moistly generating as much saliva as he could, until it ran down his chin and onto the warehouse floor.
He gripped Cooter’s asscheeks for support, using both hands there so he could slurp hands-free — he liked doing that because it clearly annoyed Cooter. Cooter didn’t want to touch Avery’s head since he wasn’t wearing that Marilyn Monroe wig — Cooter hadn’t let a man jerk him off without that wig in a very long time; Cooter hadn’t been sober for it for an even long time. Soon he found his dick was rock-hard, balls swinging against Avery’s chin. He grunted. Did this feel better than it did when he was drunk?
At least, he thought, he had months worth of that damn lotion his insurance wouldn’t cover. That was worth way more than the fifty bucks.
“Ah, damn…” A jolt of pleasure shot up his spine. Cooter bit his lip and moaned. He gripped Avery’s head and found that now, he wasn’t so uncomfortable with the clearly-male hair underneath his fingers. It no longer reminded him so much that he wasn’t with a female, and he could picture a pretty woman in his mind — the warehouse was dimly lit, after all, so he could barely see Avery.
Moist choking sounds emanated up from Avery’s lips, and Cooter grew increasingly impassioned. Cooter didn’t sound friendly when he was aroused though, and he kept grunting, clucking his tongue against his teeth and grimacing when he felt resistance from Avery’s throat.
“C’mon, man, open that throat up,” Cooter murmured. “You fightin’ back, don’t fight me, boy!” He let go, and Avery pulled off to gasp for air.
“Hmmm… You can keep throating me down, even if I gag, that’s fine-“
“I know, punk,” Cooter said with an angry snort. He rammed his dick back in even before Avery could gather his breath. As a burst of pleasure ran up his spine, Cooter let out a long chest-rattling sigh.
“Eww! Eww! Eww! “
“Did you see it?”
“I could hear it! It was so nasty! It was the nastiest sound ever!”
“He’s really jerkin’ off that old man!”
Those other younger construction workers must have poked their head in. Avery didn’t see them, but he made as many loud choking sounds as he could when he thought he heard the door creak open again. They all snickered like children and dashed off.
Cooter shouted back. “Man, you youngins best shut ya goddamn mouths! I may be old but I can still whip ya silly bitch-asses!” When he yelled, his hoary old crotch rammed into Avery’s face, his nose nuzzling in his wiry pubic hair.
Avery choked once more, and a big wad of fluids plopped on the ground. That was a loud enough sound that it made the young men outside holler like their favorite team had just scored a goal.
“Shit, Cooter, you are fuckin’ disgustin’!”
“Damn! Didya hear that!”
“Shit, when I fuck girls in the ass, it make more of a thwomp-thwomp sound-“
“But you ain’t got droopy old-man balls like Cooter, his sac goes all the way to his knees and shit-“
“Gray pubic hair prolly smells like a fuckin’ library.”
“Hey, Gramps, is in you in his ass or his mouth?”
“That ain’t no choke, I made girls choke on my meat before, they don’t sound like that-“
“That’s cuz girls don’t like chokin’. They quit when they choke.”
Cooter let out another growl. His dick throbbed, salty precum running down the shaft. He swiped it over Avery’s face, leaving a layer of gleaming fluids there, which seemed to virtually glow in the dim light of the warehouse.
“Shit, I bet his cum smells like Werther’s Originals-“
“Hey!” Cooter shouted. He walked away, dick dragging out of Avery’s mouth. He went right to the doorway, shuffling because his pants and boxers were around his ankles. The younger workers scattered away from the door when they saw him getting close, cock jutting from his silver-tinged pubic hair.
“Gah! Old man dick!”
“Oh shit! He gonna ram you, Jaycee!”
“You motherfuckin’ little shits best get the fuck away from me! We fuckin’ in here, alright? I don’t come to ya mama’s place and heckle you when you fuckin’ her stank asshole, Paulie, don’t you dare come after me!” Avery bristled because he felt Avery come up behind him, licking his back and his ass. Avery’s hands roamed around to Cooter’s front and jacked his dick off right there in the threshold. The other workers ran around in the parking lot making nervous jokes and pretending they weren’t sneaking glances.
“Hmmm… Will you ram me now, daddy? I need your cock inside me. Please? Stick it in me and don’t use a condom, just fill me up with your cum-“
“Quit beggin’, of course I’ll ram you. I just gotta make a point. Stand here and grease yaself up,” Cooter said. He tried to grab Vic de Santo when he ran near the door — attempting to throw cold water on Cooter’s head, though Vic’s water bottle only had a little water left in it, and it wasn’t very cold, so Cooter didn’t notice — to punch him, but Vic escaped from his grasp.
“Shit, Vic!
“Old man balls! Old man balls! That’s what we callin’ Cooter now: Old-Man Balls! Lookit that, man, he got dangly balls-“
Cooter cursed under his breath and turned around. Avery had bent over right there, using the door itself for support. Cooter grimaced and got behind him. With the door swung all the way open, Avery’s head was mostly concealed by the wall, but his ass was plainly visible from outside.
It was so smooth and greasy, lubed up now — the warehouse carried lube, so Avery had opened a bottle — it got Cooter’s attention. He was annoyed by the young men’s caterwauling, but the sight of Avery’s ass got his dick throbbing again. It looked so feminine. His hips were hourglass-shaped, his cheeks plump and perky, his hole tight, begging him to plow into it. He looked more feminine from behind than some of the females Cooter had been fucking lately.
His dick wedged in, and Cooter sucked in his breath. The guys backed even farther away, nearly all the way to the bus stop, pushing each other towards the warehouse.
A throaty sound escaped from Cooter’s throat. He couldn’t believe how good it felt when his dick slipped in. The door swung on its hinges because Avery had to use it for support. He pressed his face against the cold steel door and held onto the knob with both hands.
“Oh shit…” Avery moaned. His prostate sent waves of pleasure through his body. The fact that Cooter was more focused on looking tough for the guys outside just made it hotter — Avery was being used like a toy, his face hidden by the door itself, and only his ass mattered. He couldn’t open it wide enough, but that didn’t slow Cooter down any.
He gripped Avery’s smooth ass and plowed in over and over, bending his wrinkled silver muscles this way and that so the others would notice. He even flexed his fleshy biceps and pounded on his chest like Tarzan, prompting a wave of hoots and laughter from the bus stop.
“Oh god, deeper! I love your old cock inside me!” Avery screamed loud enough for the others to hear.
Cooter licked his lips. His face was red, veins throbbing against the taut skin of his neck, his weathered cheeks glistening with sweat, silver hair matted to his chest with the spit from Avery’s worship.
“Ow, damn, son, don’t move, don’t move, don’t move-” He gripped Avery’s shoulder and held on as an orgasm exploded within him. “I said don’t move, boy! Stay still-” He groaned, voice wavering as he came.
“Oh shit, Old-Man Balls is cummin'”
“Go lick his nuts, Jaycee! You said you wanted to-“
“You prolly got a big ol’ hardon-“
Great wads of cum sprayed into Avery’s ass, more than he thought possible in such an old man. Cooter’s wiry pubic hair scratched Avery’s smooth cheeks. Fluids sloshed around inside him, the heat seeping into Avery’s flesh. Avery cried out, his own orgasm overwhelming him in waves.
Avery shot a cumwad onto the floor of the warehouse, sight of which made the other workers grumble nervously — it was one thing to sneak glances at them fucking, it was another thing to watch Avery shoot his cum on the ground, while Cooter’s gray muscles flexed and glistened.
“Ah…” Cooter didn’t intend to drop Avery to the ground. But the pleasure wracking his body was so intense he couldn’t help but grab Avery by the hair and pull his head up. His intent was just to more tightly control the position of Avery’s ass, but when Avery couldn’t hold onto the door anymore, they both thudded painfully to the ground.
“Shit! Did he just bodyslam that man?”
“Oh god, he’s really cornholin’ him!”
They all rushed the warehouse because, for a moment, it looked like Cooter had rammed Avery’s face onto the cold cement floor. But it hadn’t been as violent as it looked, Avery was fine, a little pain in his ass and his knees, but it was overshadowed by the waves of pleasure wafting through him.
Cooter writhed atop him, toes curling, cock grinding within every corner of Avery’s asshole. His cum was a big frothy mess now and still Cooter plowed, until it had all slipped out into a nasty puddle on the ground.
“Goddamn…” Avery said with a moan, his voice weak and tinny. The guys heard the pleasured tone to his words and stopped short in the parking lot. They nervously looked away.
There was some nervous snickering, but nobody laughed out loud now as they watched Cooter’s wrinkled ass — which was ropy, well-muscled and taut, covered in fine grayish hairs, writhe, dimple, flex, his limpening dick roaming around in the cummy soup that filled Avery’s hole.
“Shit, boys, watch this…” Cooter lifted his upper body off Avery’s soft frame. He grimaced, and the guys watched with baited breath, wide eyes and nervous, voiceless chuckling as Cooter’s long dick slowly slipped out of Avery’s asshole. “Lookit that, he gapes like a porn star-“
“Nobody wanna see that, old man,” Jaycee said quietly, even though everyone stared as it happened.
“Shit…” Cooter moaned. His cock flopped out, and Avery sighed. Avery twitched. He scampered away and jumped to his feet. He blushed at the sight of the strangers all staring at his naked, cum-soaked body.
“Goddamn, Cooter.”
“You really rammed him good.”
Cooter aimed his crotch so his heavy cock and low-hanging balls were plainly visible. “I can break open any asshole so good it falls off. I know how to get my dick wet, on account of I ain’t no squeamish pansy like you little shit-sandwiches.”
Avery hurried into the warehouse while they all made fun of Cooter. Avery got the box of lotion that Cooter had left on a shelf. He brought it back to him, along with his clothes and some wetnaps he used to wipe Cooter’s dick clean.
Cooter grunted and watched Avery clean his dick off. ” Sissies is nice, they clean you up. Girls make you do that yaself-“
Paul snorted. “Yeah, that’s a good reason to do it, Old-Man Balls.”
“Fuck you, young buck-!”
Another argument was about to develop when the rumbling engine of the bus could be heard. It was on its way.
“Ah, shit-!”
“Don’t let it leave, man!”
“Who’s driving today? Wave ya hands so he sees us!”
They all ran to the bus stop, all except Cooter, who stood there with his shirt in hand, ready to put it back on. He paused for a moment, made sure no one was looking at him, then wrapped Avery in his arms, kissed him on the lips, rammed his tongue down his throat and pulled away, all in about two seconds.
“There. I-” He paused to gag because Avery’s mouth tasted like precum. “I kissed ya. You like that, huh? You lemme ram you e’ry day and I’ll kiss you one time. And take ya money and lotion, but I kiss you e’ry day. That make you feel good? I kiss you one time if you lemme ram like that e’ry day, all that gaggin’ and shit, and lettin’ me pound into you. That’s good.” He pointed at Avery as though he was accusing him of something. “Don’t tell no one ’bout the kissin’, and from now on we gotta do that first so you don’t taste like dick when I kiss ya.”

The Raunchy Construction Worker

Rob happens upon a crude, catcalling construction worker, and that gives him an idea for his next rough trade target: the Italian macho Vic, who’s hairy and filthy and perfect for Rob. Can Rob handle Vic’s massive alpha male meat? Can he manage to embarrass the shameless stud?!

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“Hey, baby, I’ll lick ya pussy all night long, gurl! I won’t even make you suck me off at the same time, I lick ya pussy just for fun!” he squeezed his dick through the filthy jeans he wore, which had a giant rip that had been amateurly fixed with thread.
The girl scoffed and stormed away. She was pretty, clean, classy — like a lawyer, maybe, Rob thought. She was not the type to be seduced by a catcalling construction worker.
“I lick ya asshole then! That what you want? I lick wherever you want, baby, you just tell my tongue where to go!” He stuck his tongue out to demonstrate, and laughed with all his other worker buddies. When she was almost out of earshot, he bellowed at the top of his lungs, “Fucking prude!”
The construction worker was dark-haired and swarthy, Italian, probably, or pretending as much. He was muscular, thick-bodied and broad-shouldered like a highway overpass, hairy all over, drenched with sweat, wearing a wifebeater and an orange jacket, along with heavy black boots and a hardhat. He had a cigarette in his mouth, and every few seconds he switched it from one side of his mouth to the other.
Rob confidently walked into the construction site. The man was facing the other way down the street. He snorted at the sight of a fat girl walking past him. “I won’t hate on ya cuz you big, woman. That just means there is more of you to love. Fuckin’ you would be a long-term project! I wouldn’t kick ya outta bed, baby!” he called out.
“I was about to say the same thing to you,” Rob said. He flashed a limp wrist and a big smile.
The man turned to see him. He took a deep drag on his cigarette. “Whatchoo want, princess? This is a closed site. You lookin’ for a pansy?” He pointed to a tall, corpulently fat man, who sat on a piece of heavy machinery eating a sandwich. “That him? Russell. He’s our resident sissy, ain’t ya?!”
“Who you callin’ a sissy, man?”
The two screamed more insults and accusations back at each other. Rob couldn’t hear the other man’s words, but he did pick up that the man — the handsome, not fat one — in front of him was Vic. Vic frowned when he saw Rob still standing there.
“You ain’t allowed on the construction site, man. Whatchoo want?”
“You. I’ll give you five hundred dollars to ramrod me. Right here. Right now,” Rob said.
Vic chuckled a little. He looked down and up. His fellow workers were watching, and it looked to Rob like he really wished no one had seen him get propositioned. The other workers snickered.
“Do it, Vic!”
“Yeah, man. It’s like the opposite of prison! You outside instead of inside, you gettin’ paid fo’ it ‘stead of payin’ a fine, and you givin’ it ‘stead of takin’ it. Opposite of prison.”
Vic blushed, though it wasn’t obvious because his face was smudged with dirt, “Shut up, all you’s fuckers! Shut up ya mouths or I come over there and shut ‘em up!” He blushed an even brighter red. He grabbed his dick through his jeans and affected a cocky laugh. He looked at Rob again. “Seriously though, princess-“
“I’ll eat your ass! I’ll eat your ass with a spoon,” Rob said. One of the other workers burst into guffaws so powerful he fell to the ground. The rest of them howled, calling over men from elsewhere at the construction site. Some of the heavy machinery even stopped, which made the scene much quieter.
A sneer of disgust appeared on Vic’s face. He gagged. “Man, please! Have some self-respect, seriously?! You gonna eat my ass right now! I was gonna make that girl shower first, and she’s about a hundred times cleaner than me! Man, you are messed up if you think-“
“I want to gargle your cum! Please! I can deepthroat anything!” Rob said. He rammed his whole hand into his mouth to demonstrate.
“Nah, man! Nah, man! Nah, man!” Vic repeated it like he was broken. His eyes bugged out. He laughed too, and covered his belly with one hand. “Don’t make me see that, nah, don’t make me see that…”
“He swallowin’ his whole hand! He fistin’ his throat! You see that? Legendary!”
“Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it! “
There were probably twenty men over there chanting for him to do it. Vic nodded and sighed. “Man… Six hundred bucks, okay? Man? I’ll do it for six hundred bucks.”
“Fine.”
“And you ain’t puttin’ nothing in my ass! No way!”
“Well… except my tongue.” Rob smirked.
That again prompted peals of laughter from the other workers. They clutched each other and bellowed. They were red-faced.
“You serious about that?” Vic cocked his head to the side. “You know I am sweaty as hell right now? I don’t even know… Man, do people do that?” He chuckled nervously.
“Is that a no?”
He looked shocked. “Oh, it’s a yes, man. For six hundred bucks, I will ran you and let you lick my ass. Hell, I’d let you lick my ass for free cuz no one ever did it before. I’s sayin’ it’s so gross it make me wanna throw up, but I ain’t gonna say no. You only gotta pay me for the cornholin’, you gotta pay for that.”
Rob dropped to his knees in front of Vic, who couldn’t stop laughing. He didn’t laugh animatedly, but he didn’t stop even as he mumbled down at Rob. “Yo, man, this… You are, like… Man, you’s crazy, alright? I’m just… Man, princess and shit, man, I can’t even…”
“Whip it out, Vic!”
“C’mon, you always braggin’ ‘bout it! Let’s see it!”
“Woo-hoo!” They catcalled at him, making porno-movie sounds and whistling like they were at a strip club.
“Take it off, Victor!”
Vic ignored Rob. He faced the other workers and pumped his biceps. He kissed each one. “Man, fuck all you’s guys! I ain’t got nothin’ to be ashamed about!” He undid his fly and let a massive uncut cock flop out. “Bam! See? I got-“
He stopped boasting, and yelped because Rob came up behind him and kissed his bare shoulder. It tasted so salty it brought tears to Rob’s eyes, and there was a layer of gritty dirt atop it. Rob planted his mouth between Vic’s arm and his chest, trying to get to his fuzzy armpit.
“Yo, hey! What? Yo, what?! I can’t even, man, I can’t even… cope with that shit, what the fuck?!” Vic gasped. He slowly lifted one of his arms as though he had no idea it was possible to lick armpits, like he thought Rob might actually be going for his elbow or some other body part. He cackled when Rob dove in to his pits enthusiastically.
“You gettin’ horny, Vic?”
Vic’s face was bright red still, though he tried to cover up his insecurity by laughing and shouting insults at the other workers. His muscles were tense, and they didn’t relax the whole time.
“Yo, you fat-ass bitches are just jealous of my shit, man!” Vic scoffed. He smiled down at Rob. “Alright, princess, you really into pits? Or you just teasin’ me? Huh?”
“I love armpits,” Rob said. He smiled from Vic’s left armpit, whose sweat was smeared over Rob’s face. It was bitter and sharp, and the potent scent made Rob choke even as he swallowed all that he could. He sucked on each kinky black armpit hair, and he lapped at the flesh underneath. He did first the left, then the right armpit. Vic stood there and endured it, giggling like a boom-voiced, raspy-throated schoolboy.
Then Rob planted his lips on Vic’s chest. Vic stopped laughing now, looking down with a disgusted sneer. Rob moved his tongue up Vic’s hairy body, and as he did, he removed Vic’s torn white wifebeater without removing the orange safety vest. Vic looked perfect standing there, covering up his nervousness as his chest throbbed beneath the paper-thin orange vest.
“Yo, fairy, man, you know his chest is dirty as shit, right? He been rollin’ around in dirt! He got grease all ovuh him!”
“Hey fuck you, Russell!” Vic shouted with a deep belly laugh. Rob licked his greasy sweat soaked chest, muscles trembling as he shouted to be heard over the urban traffic not that far away. Vic lit another cigarette and shouted, “At least I ain’t had to have my boss tell me I gotta start showerin’ e’ry day!”
“That’s cuz he know it’s a lost cause wit’ you!”
“I’ll come ovuh there and show you a lost cause, man!” Vic shouted out, but the others laughed so loud they couldn’t hear him. They laughed because Rob started stroking Vic’s meat.
It was long and soft still. Vic didn’t even notice Rob’s hand on his cock because he was so focused on bellowing at the other workers. He dick was delightfully huge — Rob didn’t even hope it would be that big, no wonder he was full of pride, bravado and machismo. It throbbed hotly beneath Rob’s fingers, but it didn’t get hard.
It only perked up only when Vic suddenly jumped, realizing that Rob was on his cock now. He snorted and closed his eyes.
“Aw, man, god damn, ah fuck, man,” Vic said. He bit his lip. He shifted his weight between his feet. “Ah, damn, okay, sorry, man, I swear to God, man, I won’t catcall after no bitches no more, not ever again.” He took a deep drag on his cigarette. His cock twitched and began to firm up in Rob’s hand. Vic’s face was ultra-serious now. “Okay, no, not that. I won’t catcall after any bitches for a month, man, I swear to God. I learned my lesson.” He paused again and chuckled at himself. “I mean females. I won’t catcall after any females for a month.”
“Whatcha gonna spend that money on, Vic? You need a dress that show off ya armpits, that way you can pick up more johns.”
“Tell the dress salesgirl you an autumn, Vic.”
“I will come over there and kick your ass!” Vic shouted. He looked serious enough he might have actually done it — he took a few steps in that direction — but Rob’s hand on his cock kept him here.
Rob dropped to his knees. He kissed Vic on the cocktip. Vic howled and covered his face. Vic was so loud that Rob couldn’t hear the other men, who laughed and yelled jokes at Vic. Meanwhile Rob licked up and down his shaft.
It tasted dirty, of course, rather like his armpit but with a more musky and sweet flavor to it. The dirt here was more smooth, almost muddy — this wasn’t street dust that had collected on his bare skin, it was grime that had collected on his unwashed cock.
Rob could taste the entire day’s work in the filth that had collected on his dick. It was just sweat and a few bits of thread and debris from his pants, Rob knew that, but he felt like he could sense Vic’s entire day from the taste.
He could feel Vic waking up on a ratty mattress on the floor of a small apartment — his dick tasted a bit like one of those bachelor-pad mattresses, with sheets that got washed before girls came over and on no other occasions (he normally went to his girls’s places, so he wouldn’t have to clean up his own apartment). Vic’s sheets didn’t even fit his twin-sized mattress, they were queen-sized sheets.
His dick gradually got hard in Rob’s mouth. There was hesitance in his erection, as though every few seconds Vic realized he was in a man’s mouth and his cock reconsidered getting hard. Rob gurgled merrily on it regardless.
A man like Vic probably didn’t cook his own breakfast, Rob suspected. He might make himself a bowl of cereal, but probably not. He most likely went down to the street and got a egg-and-bacon sandwich from the Pakistani fellow at a nearby bodega. Vic definitely liked carbs — you could see that in the meaty thickness of his body and the plumpness of his asscheeks — he’d have been fat if he didn’t have a calorie-burning job — so he probably got an extra plain bun too, just to munch on while he walked to his jobsite.
Once his dick was hard, Vic crooned and moaned. He made sounds like he was seducing a girl, little kissy noises and sucking on his own teeth. Rob gurgled and made a mess over his face when he tasted precum. He wiped Vic’s fleshy shaft over his lips and nose, so a layer of salty precum coated his face.
“Man… Princess, that is nasty. That is nasty. That is nasty. Fo’ real, I can’t even deal wit’ that. You don’t get nothin’ outta that, man, nothin’. You got my precum all ovuh ya face. Whatcha-?”
“Can I lick your balls?”
He raised one eyebrow. “What? Yeah… I mean… I guess so.”
Rob had to pull his jeans down all the way. He had heavy low-hanging balls, which Rob adored. He could barely fit them both in his mouth, especially since Vic’s scrotum was so slick with sweat that Rob couldn’t get a good grip on them.
“Alright now, that is new, that is real new,” Vic said. He called out to the other workers. “Yo, Jammy-Jew! He doin’ it! He slurpin on mah balls! You’d like that shit! He ain’t gonna mace ya fo’ askin’!” The men laughed, teasing one of their own. Vic looked down at Rob. He ashed his cigarette, some of the ash particles landed on his crotch and adding a bitter charred flavor to his precum. “Jammy-Jew over there — don’t worry, he ain’t a Jew, his last name is Joo-En-Oi.” It sounded like he was trying to say something French. “That’s just what we calls him. Anyway, he that hairy one over there. He ask this girl to suck his balls once and she start yellin’ at him, ends up macing the motherfucker on ‘ccount of his balls is too nasty to even think about.” He threw his cigarette on the ground. “You serious ‘bout lickin’ asshole, princess?”
“Absolutely,” Rob said. His voice was moist and crackling from the ballsweat that coated his tongue.
Rob moaned with anticipation. He pulled off Vic’s balls and moved around to kneel behind him. He kissed each one of Vic’s hairy cheeks, which stank even worse than his balls. His flesh was cold and paler than the rest of his body, though it was still a light nut-brown. Plenty of thick black hairs extended up from his thighs.
“Okay, bend over and spread those cheeks-“
“Nah,” Vic said, and for the first time, there was no humor in his voice at all. He cleared his throat. “Don’t you nevuh tell me to bend over and spread ‘em again. I will kick yo’ ass for real. There ain’t enough money in the world to make me put myself in a bitch-position. Nah. Nah. No way, man. No way, princess. You might be royalty, but you ain’t my queen, no sir, no how, no way,” he said. He shook his head. “You can lick my asshole standing up.”
“Can you squat on my face?”
He looked like he might vomit. He sighed and shook his head, but he muttered yes. Rob got down on the ground and laid on his back.
Vic lowered his hairy ass onto Rob’s face. He squatted as though he was about to jump as high as he could, like a frog. Squatting like that spread his asscheeks, giving Rob easy access to his funky hole.
His tongue plunged in. Vic yelped and squirmed atop Rob’s face. He stuck his tongue straight up, and Vic’s movement meant Rob got to taste every inch of his insides.
Once again, Rob felt like he could sense everything about Vic through his body and the way his filth tasted on Rob’s tongue. Vic fancied himself a ladysman — that was why he catcalled after girls all the time — but he was a lot less successful than he let on. If he cleaned himself up and acted more charming, he’d have tremendous luck with the ladies, who would love his muscles, dimples and square jaw. But he didn’t have the personality for that, and he didn’t care enough to change, he was fine with fucking trashy, slutty girls. Vic would rather be the sexy stud whom all the fat girls want rather than the cute guy who has to work to charm pretty girls. At any given moment, Vic had a half-dozen or so girls he was seeing. He got a handjob at least, if not a blowjob, every night — if none of his females were available, he’d go to one of the whores in the alley behind his apartment. They only charged five bucks for a handjob, and they did it sweet as candy.
His asshole sweated and twinkled around Rob’s tongue. His nose nestled in the hair of Vic’s asscrack, which shook as he yelled back and forth at the other workers. Rob couldn’t hear their words because Vic’s hefty body muffled the sound. Sweat trickled in to Rob’s mouth, flowing constantly from the small of Vic’s back.
Eventually Rob pulled off. He was about to blow his own load, and he wanted to do it with Vic’s cock in his ass. Vic loved booty, so he was excited, especially when he saw that Rob kept his ass shaved.
“Nice and smooth, alright,” Vic said softly so no one but Rob could hear. “Nothin’ personal, man, sorry ‘bout this-” He called out to the other workers- “Man, it’s gross, man, it’s nasty as shit. He got hairy, sloppy butt-“
“You must be used to it, Vic! I seen the girls you date!”
“Yeah, you into lady-sasquatches, Victor! You got no room to complain.”
“Man, I fuck chicks you can’t even dream ‘bout, old man!” Vic called out. Then he spoke to Rob. “Alright, weirdo, I am into ass. This is the part I been lookin’ forward to.” The plump girls who lusted after Vic usually gave up the ass with just a little persuasion, so he had plenty of anal sex.
“Did you enjoy your first rimjob?” Rob asked, licking his lips.
Vic scrunched up his face. His cock throbbed right at the entrance to Rob’s ass. “Well, it felt good, yeah. But I ain’t enjoy it, no.”
Pain exploded in Rob’s body as Vic pushed his cock in. He made more kissy sounds and wrapped one arm around Rob’s neck, putting him in a loose chokehold. He stayed so close Rob could feel the buzzing of his chest hair against Rob’s back.
“You got a nice tight ass, princess,” he said. He gulped and threw his head back. “Nothin’ personal, I’m gonna tell all them you was loose as shit. I gots a rep to protect.”
“Uh-huh.” The pressure in Rob’s ass disappeared, replaced by a torrent of pleasure. Vic’s cock teased his prostate. Vic shoved it in harshly when he realized Rob wasn’t going to complain or fight back, and his meat sent waves of pleasure up Rob’s spine.
“Yo, he loose like a goose, man, I’m gonna have to work hard for my money!”
Vic shuddered, making his cock shift within Rob’s ass. Vic was used to girls having trouble taking his entire manhood, but he was relentless — that was why he made those soft kissy sounds the whole time; he was used to having to continually seduce girls, to remind them that he was sexier than they could normally get, that they had better not disappoint him or he’d stop fucking them. So he had that instinctual need to seduce Rob even as he plowed his ass hard and mercilessly.
“Damn, boy, damn,” Vic said, speaking softly into Rob’s ear. “I ain’t gonna nevuh admit this to no one but you, but you got a nice ass. You take dick like none other, man, I can’t even, uh-huh.” Vic cleared his throat and yelled at his friends. “I’m gonna nut, boys! Who wants to come clean this asshole up?! Huh? You guys hungry? You wanna eat my nut outta his ass? We got spoons in the truck, man!”
Then he closed his eyes and bit his lip. He moaned. He held Rob close against his chest. Rob jacked himself off — since he faced the other workers, they all groaned and turned away — and sprayed his wad all over the construction site ground.
Vic didn’t seem to notice that. He groaned and grunted into Rob’s ear. Then he exhaled slowly, blowing right on Rob’s cheek. Cum sprayed into Rob’s ass, a great big wad of it that was followed by jet after jet of hot juices.
It was creamy and sticky, and it seeped into Rob’s body. He could feel it trickling to every part of him. It leaked out of his ass, into the tangled hair of Vic’s thighs. Vic kept on ramming, drilling his dick in even as he shot his load.
When his cock finally fell limp, Vic pulled out and let out a hoarse croak. His manhood flopped out. Vic looked down at it as though it had betrayed him.
Vic sighed. He rolled his eyes. “Alright, pay up.”
But Rob ignored him. He turned around and removed some napkins from his pants pocket. He gingerly cleaned off Vic’s dick. Vic scoffed but allowed him to do so. Then Rob licked the sweat off his nipples.
“‘Kay, princess, you got ya taste. You got what you paid for.”
“Make a bicep, please! I wanna lick your bicep!” Rob said, loud enough for the other workers to notice the ramrodding was done. They resumed catcalling.
“Make out wit’ him, Vic! Give him his money’s worth!”
“You get him pregnant, Vic? You best pay for the abortion!”
Vic shook his head and scowled. He pumped his right arm. Rob licked the muddy sweat off his curvy arm, which flexed beneath his tongue. Vic laughed like he was ticklish, and Rob slurped up and down his powerful arms.
“C’mon, princess, or uh… Mister whoever. I did my part,” he said. He was plaintive now, like it had only just now occurred to him that Rob might not pay.
But Rob did pay. He handed over six hundred dollars in cash. Vic breathed a sigh of relief, took the cash and pulled his jeans up. He put his filthy t-shirt back on.
“Alright, princess you better go. You ain’t really allowed in here,” Vic said. “And our boss is gonna be here soon.”
Rob nodded. “Thanks, Vic.” He backed away towards the street, slowly, and as he did he yelled at the top of his lungs. The workers — and a few people on the street — listened and laughed, while Vic turned bright red once more. “Thanks for cornholin’ me for money, Victor! You have a nice cock! You should stick it in a girl who ain’t a fat trashy slut sometimes! Thanks for lettin’ me eat your asshole too! Your balls taste like cheese, Vic, and I loved ‘em!”
By that point, a crowd had gathered, laughing and pointing at Vic’s bright red face, too loud for Rob’s catcalling to be heard anymore. Vic chortled and shook, like he was about to either laugh or cry — or both — so hard he shattered. He glared at Rob, who just smiled, gave a little limp-wristed wave and darted off down the street.

The Hobo

Carlos goes to a legendary homeless encampment in order to swing in the dirt with a filthy hobo named Tommy. He’s filthy, he’s drunk and he’s willing to let Carlos service his nasty homeless body.

Can Carlos get the raunchy manmeat he craves?

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Father Carlos brought food to the hobo encampment called Ditchway, out by the interstate in Jackson, Mississippi, but he didn’t wear his collar. The hardscrabble men who swamped the area from the hardware store parking lot to the highway tolerated him because he brought food, but it didn’t stop them from demanding other things. Mainly malt liquor, sometimes just plain cash. They lived in tents and cardboard boxes, strewn with radios and clothes hung up to dry like in a prison cell. Interspersed here and there were overturned shopping carts, municipal trash cans and legions of scavenged buckets, barrels and crates of all kinds.
But since he didn’t bring any alcohol or give them any cash, most of them left pretty soon after the meal. They headed off to panhandle during the evening rush hour. That left Carlos with Tommy Weathers, one of those poor benighted souls who live here. He was sober for now, but Tommy fully intended for that to be a temporary condition
Tommy was a broad shouldered white man with skin tanned brown as a Mexican, or a Texan at least. He was dirty, like all the rest, with greasy hair and smudges of filth all over his skin. He wasn’t exactly skinny, but he was lean, ropy-muscled and long-limbed, with a square jaw and deep-set, dark green eyes. He spoke with the accent of his native South Carolina, with a Low Country drawl that Carlos found alluring.
“I’s homeless on ‘ccount of my lying bitch of an ex-wife. Glenda Shay, that’s what she go by now. Got remarried, to an ‘ccountant who talks like a fuckin’ college professor. Glenda Shay. You know that bitch?”
“Uh… no.”
“If’n you evuh meet her, suh, you run far away,” he said. He ate the last of his hot dog and licked the ketchup off his fingertips. That’s what Carlos had brought him. He paid for it with his own money, not church funds. “I love ketchup. I put it on e’rything at the soup kitchen. I even put some in dat minestrone-” he pronounced it minnuhstrahn, as he licked ketchup out of his unkempt gray-tinged beard — “did that in lockup, yessuh. Pissed off this one off’cer so bad he swipe my head off. Said ya can’t put ketchup in soup. I lodge a complaint, suh, cuz I gots mah pride, even in lockup, yessuh, and I gots rights. I ain’t no Commie, ‘fter all. Ronald Reagan won, y’know. Dat guard gots an offishul reprimand, sho’ nuff, yessuh. I gots a right to put ketchup in dat minestrone.”
“Uh-huh. Ketchup in your minestrone, huh? I’ve never tried that. I think they put tomato paste in the broth anyway-“
“Mah mama always done say I eat so much ketchup mah head gonna turn into a tomatah, yessuh, she was a real saint, y’know. She always stand by me even when I get in trouble, yessuh.”
“Uh-huh-“
“But she pass on couple years back. I reckon it was for the best, she had dat livuh cancer, on ‘ccount of her drinkin’ like a Texan, y’know,” he said.
“Right.”
“Lordy, if she knew I was livin’ in the hobo camp with dem colored boys and a Chinaman, she would be rollin’ ovuh in dat grave,” he said.
“Sure, sure.” Carlos would have reprimanded him about his language if he was here in an official capacity. That’s why Carlos had come all the way to the far side of Jackson, Mississippi. He didn’t want to meet anyone he knew as a priest. Carlos was not here in a priestly capacity, and he didn’t have to correct the man. “So, uh, you don’t have a girlfriend or anythin’?”
“Girlfriend? What the fuck you talkin’ ‘bout? Hobos don’t got girlfriends. There’s a female I know, she suck my dick sometime. She a whore though. She suck me off for free. She say I’m cute,” he said, beaming, showing off his gap-toothed grin. “But she ain’t been ‘round much no mo’. She got a pimp, say she can’t be givin’ out no freebies. He a black man, ya see. They don’t like dat. I ain’t prejudice. Just speakin’ the God’s honest truth.”
“Uh-huh.” Carlos cleared his throat. “You wanna bust a nut?”
“‘Course. You got a female?”
“I’ll give you five hundred bucks if you treat me like one. Treat me like a filthy whore,” Carlos said. His heart skipped a beat as Tommy looked him up and down.
He burped and frowned. “Five hun’red bucks is a lotta money,” he said. “You got beer?”
“No. You gotta do it before you start drinking,” Carlos said.
He nodded. “Fine. If you stiff me, I’s gonna rip yo’ goddamn head off.”
“Yes, sir,” Carlos said. His heart skipped a beat. He got on his knees in front of Tommy, who sat on the dirt in the woody copse of trees by the highway. Just twenty yards to the east was the onramp, and maybe fifty yards to the north was the highway itself. Cars whizzed by. The foliage was dense along the road though, with forsythia bushes in full bloom providing dense cover and rendering this piece of wilderness cut off from the outside world. A couple dozen tents and sleeping bags were scattered around, and the remains of two campfires. Empty bottles of liquor and abandoned crackpipes lay scattered like headstones after a tornado.
Tommy burped up a rancid smell, then apologized. Carlos ignored it. He undid Tommy’s belt and made him lift his ass up so Tommy could lower his pants. His fat cock flopped out of his tattered prison-issue boxer shorts.
“Hang on just a moment, suh, I gotta beg fo’ forgiveness fo’ mah everbegottened lusts,” Tommy said. He moved his dick out of the way at the last moment as Carlos tried to take it in his mouth. Tommy closed his eyes and looked up at the sky. He clasped his hands together and murmured a prayer. Carlos didn’t hear the words, he just sat quietly watching Tommy’s greasy dick sway between his legs. His mouth watered like a hungry dog.
It felt good that nobody knew he was a priest. He didn’t have be in charge, didn’t have to report anything to the archbishop, didn’t have to be the voice of moral clarity. He could just be. He didn’t pray. Carlo kneeled before Tommy’s cock, which dangled and sway as he prayed in a rumbling murmur that Carlos didn’t hear.
Then at last Tommy finished praying. He smiled down at Carlos and flopped his dick between his fingers. Then he thwacked it over Carlos’s face.
“God say it’s alright, cuz I gots a need, man,” Tommy said. “I got real pain, and I gotta do what I gotta do. He do want me to get a promise from you though.”
“Oh, what?”
“Go to church,” he said.
“Oh…”
“Just go one time,” he said. “God will forgive you your trespasses, suh. He always do.”
“Okay, okay, I’ll go,” Carlos said. His heart quickened, because he felt like he was getting away with something not mentioning that he was a priest. Normally it was all anybody could see him as. They only ever spoke to him as a priest, even in a casual setting. This was the first time in a long time he’d spoke to someone who didn’t know.
“Alright. If He can forgive me, suh, He can forgive you, fo’ sho’,” he said. “You get a man off good? Wit’cha mouth? Huh?”
“Real good,” Carlos said. He licked his lips and opened his mouth as wide as possible. He wiggled his tongue right in front of Tommy’s cock.
Tommy smiled. He pushed his dick in, its limp, long shaft filling Carlos’s mouth with raunchy, sweaty flesh. It tasted like soil: dry, dusty, infertile dirt, but with a thick, greasy texture that Carlos loved. He felt a shiver of desire run through him. His heart raced as fast as the cars flying by just past the trees and forsythias that lined the hobo camp.
He opened his throat and let that deliciously nasty cock slide down it. Sometimes jerking off hobos was a double-edged sword — all that nastiness and filthy Carlos craved made them unhealthy, cocks unable to get hard (especially if they smoked crack). But Tommy was not a crackhead, and his dick popped right into full erection in Carlos’s mouth. It tasted stale but warm and savory, yeasty like good bread or bad beer. He sniffed deeply of it like a sacraent.
“Ooh, boy, you handle my dick nice, damn, that feels good,” Tommy said with a hoot. He pulled out a ziploc baggie filled with cigarette butts he had scavenged from a public ashtray. He lit one that still had a good half-inch of unsmoked cigarette. He took a deep breath and exhaled it right into Carlos’s face.
The acrid smoke brought tears to his eyes, as did lack of oxygen as he kept guzzling down cockmeat. Carlos pushed his head down until his nose nuzzled Tommy’s unkempt pubic bush. Tommy gasped like he was surprised, and a shiver of pleasure visibly shook his spine. Tommy licked his teeth.
“Damn, boy, you swallow like a sissy in prison, hell yeah,” Tommy said. He groaned as he took a deep breath. Then he grabbed Carlos’s ears and pulled his head off his cock. “Hey. Can I throat down ya face, boy? You okay wit’ dat?”
“Yes, please do,” Carlos said through his gasps for air.
“You nasty,” he said. He dropped the cigarette butt, smoked down to the filter, on the muddy ground. Then he stood up. He gave his dick one stroke and then grabbed Carlos by the ear again. “Open up.”
He fed his dick down Carlos’s throat inch by inch. When he got almost the whole thing down there, Carlos instinctively choked and sputtered. Tommy gripped his ears tighter and shook his head, causing a torrent of more choking.
“Nah, open up, you payin’ fo’ it, now take it,” Tommy said through his thin lips. He closed his eyes and groaned, his hips gyrating as he slammed his dick in.
At last that entire shaft throbbed in Tommy’s throat. Precum flowed like water from a hose, coating his entire gullet. It had a thick texture and a savory flavor that made Tommy crave more.
Tommy grumbled. “Don’t get the wrong impression ‘bout me, suh. I ain’t ram no sissy in prison, no sir. That’s just an ‘xpression I learned, and I ain’t nevuh ramrod no one in prison neither. God don’t like ugly. So that’s what I, uh… My time behind bars was a time of spirit’al reflection, suh, and I used that time to get closuh to God hisself. God is, uh, there… in, uh… God is in a’rrything, you know. In the soul of the…” He blinked and twitched as another surge of pleasure visibly wafted through the taut musculature. He must have forgot the point he had been failing to make. “Prison food was real bad, suh, you don’t even know.”
He kept talking about God and his time in prison, but he continued to lose track of his thoughts as well. He seemed to almost forget that his dick was in Carlos’s throat until there was a tiny bit of give, and Carlos almost backed off. Then he growled, grabbed Carlos’s ears again and held on tight as he moved his hips in circles, hitting every corner of Carlos’s throat.
“Reckon there was a lot of sissies in lockup, yessuh, you prolly know some of ‘em. Like a Julius. You know Julius…? I dunno his last name. Got big soft lips. I rammed him one time cuz he ast me to,” Tommy said.
He didn’t give Carlos time to actually answer whether or not he knew Julius. Carlos was more focused on working that greasy dickshaft to full tumescence. It was now moist with clumps of spit and precum. The dusty hobo camp ground beneath Tommy’s feet was turning wet with all the fluids that dripped from Carlos’s mouth.
“Keep yer mouth open, boy,” Tommy said. He pulled away and used his fingers to keep Carlos’s mouth open even as Carlos heaved and writhed, grabbing for air. “Gonna give you a prison-kiss. This is how the Mexicans show they love in lockup, man,” he said. He pursed his lips like he was going to kiss, but then just filled his own mouth with saliva and spat into Carlos’s open gullet. His spit tasted like dirt and made Carlos moan with desire. Tommy spat again, then again, this time making sure it landed right on Carlos’s nose, a hot stinking puddle of alpha male redneck nastiness stinking up his nostrils.
Carlos inhaled deeply of it, his mind swimming from lack of oxygen and intense arousal. Tommy didn’t wait long before pushing his dick back in again.
“We call dat throat lube, suh, yes we do,” Tommy said. He cackled and resumed drilling Carlos’s throat. “Get yo’ head down on the ground then, suh, if’n ya please. Get real low in the dirt.”
Carlos laid on his back on the ground. Tommy mounted his head, aiming his dick down so he could just lower himself as well. He was virtually laying down now, with his cock aimed down Carlos’s throat.
And then he began humping. He gyrated his hips like he was fucking an actual pussy, while Carlos’s spit-slickened throat allowed him to get his entire dick down there once more. Tommy’s nasty, sweat-dripping balls landed on Carlos’s nose, so Carlos was overwhelmed by a torrent of raunch covering every part of his face. All he could see was the filth and the hair of Tommy’s balls, taint and asscheeks.
Eventually Tommy pulled off. He looked disappointed in himself. “You want me to get you up the ass too, right?”
“Yeah…” Carlos was too starved for oxygen to say anything else. He gasped. “Can I… Can I lick your ass first?”
Tommy stopped moving and his smile turned into a frown. He furrowed his brow like he was trying to understand Carlos. “You wanna lick hobo ass?”
“God yes, please…” Carlos felt like crying. He was on his knees, so his head lined up with Tommy’s ass anyway. He stuck his nose in the air and sniffed the raunchy ass scent. It was almost enough to make him cum.
“Fine. But just for a minute or two, that’s nasty,” Tommy said with pursed lips, like he was seriously annoyed with Carlos for asking.
Carlos tried to separate Tommy’s cheeks, but Tommy just unceremoniously sat. He didn’t even lower himself slowly, he let Carlos stick his face in Tommy’s hairy ass and then sat down. He squatted like he was about to do a high jump, and most of his weight was on Carlos’s face.
Carlos had no idea how long the rimjob lasted. He was so overwhelmed by the suddenness of it and by the weight of Tommy’s body on his face that he was dizzy from the moment it began. Unfiltered masculine scents assaulted his nostrils. It smelled like dirty underwear or like a crowd of men, like an entire worksite’s worth of men all sitting on his face at once.
His tongue pushed past the layer of thick hair in Tommy’s asscrack. He groaned and moaned, and he even began rubbing his own dick through his jeans — a lot of men were annoyed by the sight of men masturbating, so Carlos kept it low-key. It didn’t look like Tommy really noticed anyway.
“You one nasty freak,” Tommy said with a laugh that shook his entire wiry frame. His ropy thigh muscles trembled, asscheeks flexing around Carlos’s tongue as though he was trying to hold onto it. His voice wavered as he spoke, when a surge of pleasure wracked his body from his prostate to his neck.
Carlos gurgled, letting a big mouthful of spit fill Tommy’s ass before it overflowed back onto Carlos’s face. Carlos groaned. His hands roamed over Tommy’s dick, the veiny shaft spasming beneath his fingers.
Tommy groaned like he was surprised at how good this felt. He murmured incomprehensibly to himself, and he rubbed his ass all over Carlos’s tongue. He moved it up and down, penetrating himself in his asshole with Carlos’s muscular tongue, which grew to be coated with Tommy’s masculine funk. His ass was taut and firm as iron, cuz he ate so little, but it was also strong, cords of firm muscles etched into his tight frame.
“Damn, you one nasty-ass boi,” Tommy said with a cackle. He stood up and pushed Carlos to roll over. “Lemme get in dat ass. Open up. I say open up. Get yer head down in the muck. That’s where God wants ya till you get forgiveness.”
He pushed Carlos’s face into the mud and aimed his dick right for Carlos’s ass. He groaned when it slid in and a bolt of pain erupted in Carlos’s body. As he always did it, he gritted his teeth as he struggled to bear it.
But at last the pain melted away into a tense, uncontrollable pleasure that spread through his body like a convulsion. Tommy was relentless, completely ignoring Carlos’s struggle and his body’s instinctive resistance.
“You want it, suh? Huh? You really like this?”
“Yes, please, god, stick it in me…” Carlos said with a moan, choking on a mouth full of mud and cigarette butts.
“Don’t you dare ask God fo’ dat, suh, I can still walk ‘way. Ain’t gonna tol’rate ya disrespectin’ God,” he said. He stopped moving with his dick deep in Carlos’s ass, hand holding onto Carlos’s hair. Tommy frowned down at Carlos. “Ain’t no man’s dick worth ya eternal soul, young man-“
“Okay, yes, I’m sorry. I won’t use the Lord’s name in… whatever. Please just get back to it me, Tommy, go at me as hard as you can,” Carlos said breathlessly.
“I will,” Tommy said. He sniffled. He laid his wiry chest on Carlos’s back and pounded away. He groaned and grunted right into Carlos’s ear, and he cackled with laughter again as he rubbed muddy dirt into Carlos’s face. “You like it dirty, right? Ain’t you say dat? Take some dirt then, suh. Open up.”
He shoved clumps of dirt into Carlos’s mouth, making him gag and sputter as he tried to jack himself off. Carlos couldn’t reach his own crotch though. All he could do was submit to Tommy’s frenzied pounding, his drilling away at Carlos’s asshole.
“Ew, what the fuck-?”
“Aw damn, that is some nasty shit right there.”
“I knew he weren’t just comin’ up in he’e to give up some food. I tol’ you dat.”
“You said he was gonna try ‘nd fuck Lisa wit’out payin’.”
A foursome of hobos had appeared in the woods, having returned from panhandling. They all groaned like they were disgusted by Carlos getting it up the ass from Tommy, but no one turned around or even faced a different direction. They seemed both disgusted and excited by it.
“Aw fuck, go ‘way, guys, I’m… busy, alright?” Tommy blushed, but he didn’t stop. “Hey where mah money at?” he asked Carlos. He didn’t wait for a response. He grabbed Carlos’s wallet out of his pants, then pulled out the five hundred dollars in it, as well as the spare fifty bucks that Carlos kept hidden. He swiped the three crackpipes sitting in the dirt. Then he gave one of the other hobos some money, all without missing a beat or slowing down his deep-dicking. “Go get us whiskey. I got all yo’ crackpipes so don’t you dare blow it all on crack. You can buy one rock wit’ dat, bring it back and share it. The whiskey is just for me, but we celebrate this filthy bitch wit’ some crack.” He smacked Carlos’s ass. “Ya got it?”
Yo, gimme some mo’ of dat money-
“Nah, I’s the one gettin’ paid,” Tommy said. “It’s my money. I’s puttin’ my eternal soul at risk by doin’ the nasty wit’ a male. Go on then, get some whiskey and crack and I gonna keep us in clover for a week wit’ this cash. Maybe longer if’n I wreck this man’s ass so good he keep comin’ back for more.”
The hobos grumbled, but took the money and walked away. Tommy scoffed and spat at them. “Fuckin’ pieces of shit, man, I swear. They ain’t God-fearin’ like me,” he said. He looked at Carlos then like this was the first time he had really seen him. He peered into his eyes. “You really enjoyin’ yerself, ain’t ya?”
“Yeah…” Carlos gasped. He managed to finish himself off then, blowing a massive load of cum into the dirt. His whole body tensed as waves of bliss spread through. His fingers and toes tighteneed, and Carlos gasped. He shot a bigger load than he had ever seen.
“Reckon I don’t ‘pprove. When I was growin’ up, a man’d only take it up behind as a punishment, like in boot camp. That’s how my pa raised me — he was a drill sergeant: strict but fair,” Tommy said. “Now this part is gonna hurt, suh. Here, you can bite on my arm.” He placed his smudged forearm in front of Carlos’s mouth.
Carlos knew he could take it, but he nibbled on the worn flesh there, feeling the toned muscles underneath the skin. Tommy sped up his rhythm, groaning and grunting with each flex of his hips.
The pain did grow worse, and Carlos bit down hard enough that he tasted a single drop of coppery blood. Tommy didn’t seem to notice; he just slammed his hips, ramming his dick all the way in as he nutted. His balls crawled up in his sac. A shudder of pain or desire or disgust ran up Tommy’s body.
A load of rancid hobo cum filled Carlos’s ass, a big arcing jet of juices that seeped into his flesh. It was hot and thick, sticky, clinging to every inch of Carlos’s body. Carlos groaned.
It was the most intense orgasm of Carlos’s life, while Tommy reacted as though it was a painful climax. He grunted and snorted, sniffling like an angry bull. He spat over and over onto the back of Carlos’s neck, while grinding his cock so deeply in Carlos’s ass that Carlos couldn’t help but bite down hard on Tommy’s forearm.
Carlos finally stopped squirming. He sighed, totally spent, his gaping ass now in utter submission to Tommy’s rapidly limpening manhood.
“Alright, suh, I’s done,” Tommy said. “Reckon I cornholed you good, right? You ain’t feel cheated, right? You got yer money’s worth?”
“Yeah…” Carlos was too overwhelmed by sensations in his asshole to really respond. He moaned.
“Good. I ain’t wanna cheat ya.” He pulled out and sighed. He stroked his slimy dick, using a hand to get all of those nasty fluids off. He wiped it onto Carlos’s bare ass. He wrinkled his nose. He sat back in the dirt, his spent dick and low-hanging balls dragging in the mud between his legs. He frowned. “I gotta take a piss. You into piss?”
“Uh, no thanks,” Carlos said. He was exhausted, and he was worried about those other hobos now that they knew he could afford to pay Tommy five hundred dollars. Who knew what they might do when they came back with alcohol and crack?
So Carlos just hurried up and got dressed. His body was covered in mud and redneck sweat, not to mention cum still dripping down his ass. Tommy ignored him as he pissed into the rancid dirt of the Ditchway homeless encampment. He looked like he was getting antsy waiting for his whiskey and crack.
“Wait, suh,” Tommy said before Carlos left. “Lemme do one more thing, so anyone who smell you know you’s my bitch.” He pried Carlos’s jaw open, then spat a stinking load of saliva into Carlos’s mouth. “Don’t you go payin’ some other hobo for dick. You come back to me, suh. Ya hear? You mine now.”
“Okay. Yes, sir, I promise,” Carlos said as he walked away, his mouth gurgling over the fetid wad of saliva on his tongue. Despite that, he had no plans on coming back. If he did, sooner or later someone would identify him, and Carlos didn’t want that.
Next time, he’d hafta find a different source of raunchy alpha male men who don’t know him. Luckily, there was a whole world of rough trade out there, and Carlos was eager to get started.