sleeping – Mansploitation

Sharing a Bed With a Baseball Jock

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

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

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

The Couchsurfer

Rob lets a studly young alpha sleep on his couch, as long as Rob gets to swing on his big black meat. Can Rob handle his tenant’s huge throbbing rent payment?

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Rob Winthrop wanted to let Lamar sleep in, but it was tough to resist touching him. Lamar’s eighteen-year-old body gleamed, sprawled out on the couch he barely fit on. It was a big couch, but Lamar was tall, with limbs like catapaults. He was sound asleep. He hadn’t even been home that long, Lamar only returned from his friend’s party a few hours before sunrise.
He wore only boxers, and the sheet he had covered himself with had fallen onto the floor. Rob could catch a few tantalizing glimpses of his dick through the fly, through which a couple stray pubic hairs were visible.
Rob gently tweaked Lamar’s nipple to see if he would wake up. But he didn’t. He was passed-out cold. He pulled Lamar’s soft dick out from within the boxers he had passed out in. Even limp as cooked spaghetti, it was almost a foot long and meaty, even heavier than it looked. Rob thwacked it against his palm.
Still, Lamar didn’t wake up.
Lamar was just eighteen years old. He had come to Rob last month to say that he heard Rob paid money to jack off black guys with big dicks, in hopes of it making Rob’s dick bigger. Rob had explained that that wasn’t exactly true. Rob did appreciate men with superb physiques, but he was not especially into black men and did not believe doing it would make his own dick bigger. But Lamar didn’t believe him. He kept referring to Rob as a lover of big black cock.
Regardless, Rob had given him money then so he could get a tattoo.
That was the words THUG LIFE tattooed on Lamar’s bicep, in short block letters that ran all the way around his arm. While Lamar remained unconscious, Rob slurped some of his drunk-night-sweat off that tattooed bicep. Fully erect, his dick was more than a foot long and so thick Rob couldn’t circle his fingers around the whole shaft. As Lamar stayed unconscious, Rob grew bolder about groping his muscular body.
Then Lamar finally stirred and smiled like a cocky bastard after Rob rammed his fingers into Lamar’s pants and started stroking. His cock was sweaty and soft — spongy-soft, like he had fucked until he couldn’t anymore. That was probably exactly what happened at that party Lamar went to.
“Pretty big, huh?” Lamar asked with a groggy groan and chuckle. Now that he was awoke, his dick twitched in Rob’s grasp.
“Yeah.”
“You like this nigga dick, huh? Well you don’t get to swallow it, not for a li’l tat,” Lamar said. He kept telling Rob that over and over as Rob jacked him off — even though Rob hadn’t tried to put it in his mouth. “You want it so bad, I can tell. You got nigga-lover written on yo’ forehead, honky. You feel me? Huh? You feel my meat throbbin’ in yo’ fingers. That’s happenin’ fo’ you. That’s my present to you, man. Ain’t no way you get to swallow it though, nuh-uh.”
Then he gasped and shot his load in his pants. It coated Rob’s hand and trickled down his wrist. He wanted to lick it off, but Lamar stopped him.
“Nah. Go wipe yo’ hand, whiteman,” he said. He licked his lips and moaned. “I ain’t lettin’ you taste my nut. That’s nasty. Girls only.” He stood there and watched, thick trunk-like cockshaft swaying between his legs, as Rob looked forlornly at the tasty cum all over his hand but wiped it off with a paper towel. Lamar left then, climbing into some white girl’s car just seconds after tucking his dick back into his pants.
Rob had watched his ass through the shorts that were visible above his sagging jeans. Rob wanted more than anything to taste his dick and feel it inside him, but Lamar had said no. That was before he showed up on Rob’s doorstep a few days ago. He said he was running from the po-po, though he later also mentioned a fight with his stepdad. “You can swing on my dick,” Lamar said with a crude sneer. “But I ain’t touchin’ you. No way.”
“Okay,” Rob said with a shrug. He knew he could get something more when Lamar was drunk enough.
Now he wondered if it was time to get a taste of Lamar’s cock. He had let Lamar move in and sleep here for two days, and all Rob had gotten out of it was the sight of Lamar’s tight body and a few handjobs.
Anyway, Lamar went out clubbing with that white girl or maybe different white girls, then came home at dawn once more. Rob had already given Lamar money, enough that he could easily buy himself beer and pay the cover charge to get into some bar. Lamar had used up all the money though, paying for not just his beer but also his friends’s and of course fruity cocktails for girls with juicy asses.
When Lamar had returned to the house early yet again, with the sun peeking over the horizon, he had staggered in drunkenly. He’d plopped onto the couch and slept awhile before getting up to vomit. Then he managed to brush his teeth and drink a glass of water before returning to the couch.
And now here was Rob yet again, trying to stimulate his unconscious couchsurfing roommate to erection. He’d said it was fine if Lamar went out partying every night, but he didn’t think Lamar would actually find a party “fulla mad bitches” every single night.
At least tonight, Lamar’s cock had slipped out from the fly of his boxers, which made it easy for Rob to stroke it. It was like a dead snake in his hand, a long tube of dark muscle that was firm even in its soft state. Rob licked his lips as he flopped it between his fingers.
Lamar was still passed out cold. When it was clear he wouldn’t wake up, Rob bent over and licked Lamar’s cock from the root to the tip, which he then put in his mouth. He again looked up. Lamar didn’t awake, but he did move his head to the side.
That gave Rob an idea. He got his own dick out. His heart pounding, Rob put it on Lamar’s lips. Rob’s cocktip throbbed on Lamar’s mouth.
His handsome brown face was still calm and asleep, and the coarse hairs of his unshaved cheeks and chin rubbed against Rob’s shaft. Lamar wrinkled his nose in his sleep. Rob flopped his rapidly firming dick around on Lamar’s face, and he attempted at Lamar’s mouth but didn’t force it in, lest the sensation wake him up.
Lamar stirred. He moaned and wiggled his ass, but he didn’t wake up the rest of the way. He murmured and grumbled. Rob sensed him waking and took his dick away, just before Lamar let out a little gag.
Holding his breath, Rob waited to see if Lamar realized why he had gagged. He was definitely waking up now. But Lamar must have figured it was lingering drunkenness.
Rob leaned in and inhaled deeply of Lamar’s musk. He inserted his nose the best he could between Lamar’s tricep and his chest, and he sniffed the musk of his armpit. It was an intoxicating, heady aroma that made Rob moan.
He licked the tight muscle of Lamar’s pecs. They were not huge — he was no bodybuilder — but they were like taut balls of rock-hard flesh beneath soft skin, brimming with power and body heat. Rob lapped at the soft flesh, which rippled beneath his touch.
“Aw, damn, baby…” Lamar murmured. His eyes gradually blinked open. He kept wiggling, and his breathing hurried up as Rob caressed his shaft.
His dick twitched beneath Rob’s fingers. Rob gave it a stroke, and it started to get hard.
“Oh. Oh, damn,” Lamar murmured. He had obviously forgotten where he was and thought it was a woman on his dick until he opened his eyes fully. Now he was full of nervous gasps and sucking in his breath. He swayed as though the couch under him moved, too dizzy from drunken surprise to react. “Ew, nasty, man, shit…”
Rob’s tongue traveled down Lamar’s taut stomach. Now that he was awake, Lamar giggled like he was ticklish but trying to hide it the entire time Rob licked at his flesh. His muscles writhed beneath Rob’s tongue. Letting out a moist gurgling sound, Lamar wrapped his fingers around Rob’s head and pushed him towards Lamar’s crotch, but then Lamar let go — feeling Rob’s short haircut reminded Lamar he wasn’t with a girl. He covered his face with one forearm, while his other hand gently guided Rob to his crotch.
After a night of drinking, Lamar’s body was covered with a sheen of dried sweat. That was perfect for Rob, who loved the taste of his flesh. It was clean, slightly soapy, yet salty from sweat and tasting just a bit of cocoa butter.
“Yo, you gunna ssshwalluh my nut?” Lamar’s voice was weak, though he tried to sound tough. He was too nervous to stop laughing though, and he could only cover that up by flexing his muscles and growling intermittently. He couldn’t stop writhing to the sensation of Rob’s tongue traveling over his body.
“Yes,” Rob said. “I am.” He kissed the tip of Lamar’s dick, which throbbed and twitched like it was begging him to swallow it. “Tell me about last night. Did you have fun?”
“Yeah,” Lamar said. His forearm was still over his eyes so he didn’t accidentally see who was on his cock. A drunken burp escaped from his mouth, and he scrunched his eyes shut even though his gaze was blocked by his forearm. Now that he was fully awake and had taken a deep breath, his throbbing erection helped bring him down from the drunken dizzies, and he could speak clearly if he concentrated on his words and not the throbbing of his cock in Rob’s mouth. “It was cool. My nigga got this bitch to give up the booty, man. We ran a train on her in the bathroom of the club. Nasty-ass bitch.”
“Oh? You fucked her there in the bathroom?” Rob pulled off Lamar’s dick just long enough to ask his question, and then he thwacked Lamar’s erection all over his face like a billyclub.
Lamar nodded like a cocky bastard and ran his tongue between his lips and his teeth. “Yeah. She was on her knees on that piss-stained floor, like a fuckin’ slut. I had sloppy seconds — or like sloppy fifths, I think, fifths in her pussy anyway — and it was all drippin’ out. Made me gag and shit.”
“Why’d you do it?” Rob asked as his tongue slathered spit over Lamar’s ribs while his hand flopped Lamar’s cock around. He part lost his erction every time Rob let it go for a few seconds, which Rob enjoyed because he liked playing with a half-hard cock. Lamar was desperately horny, that much was obvious from the way he gasped every few seconds as he talked, and his hips kept bucking like he was fucking the air. Rob stroked his dick, which was just meaty enough to feel solid as Rob thwacked it against Lamar’s flesh and his own face.
“What?”
“Why’d you do it if you had to take sloppy-fifths?”
There was a long silence. “That a trick question? It was pussy, man. She gave it up,” he said.
“Oh, I thought it sounded gross.”
“It was gross.”
“I guess I just don’t get it,” Rob asked. He spat loudly, covering Lamar’s dick with his saliva, which made Lamar groan. Rob licked all that spit up. “Did you joust with your buddies?”
“Joust? Oh, you mean, like touch dicks in her mouth and shit? Yeah, me and my nigga Killer always do that shit. He was the fourth, you know, he was the one who shot his load right before me-” He paused. “Wait, I gotta do somethin’.” He reached down for the pants he had thrown down onto the ground. He pulled out his cell phone.
“Is something wrong?”
“I gotta tell Killer somethin’, you can keep strokin’ my dick. You gonna swallow my nut or what?” He said as he dialed.
“I just like to play with it first. It’s so big,” Rob said smiling at how Lamar proudly bristled and arched his back. Rob stuck out his tongue and licked Lamar’s dick from root to tip, very slowly, slathering spit the entire way.
That made Lamar moan uncontrollably, and his cock rocketed to full erection. Killer, on the other side of the line, laughed — he must have heard the moan as soon as he answered the phone. Rob couldn’t hear Killer’s words though, just his laughter.
“Thought you should know my dick is like three shades lighter,” Lamar said. He chuckled at Killer. “Yeah, yo’ nut stained my shit, Killer! I know it was yo’s — nah, you know that nigga ain’t got — oh — Fuck dat shit, nigga!” Lamar went on, laughing and carrying on, but he and Killer talked over each other so much that Rob couldn’t follow the conversation. He gathered that Lamar and Killer had made an inside joke last night, something to do with all the cum sticking to Lamar’s cock after he had sloppy fifths and staining it until it was a lighter shade.
Rob kept on stroking it though. He wanted Lamar desperate to blow his nut.
“Yeah, nigga. Okay. Peace, one love,” Lamar said and hung up the phone. He glared at Rob and tried to sit up, but Rob chose that moment to put the tip of his cock in Rob’s mouth. He suckled on the piss-slit and slathered a huge wad of saliva that dripped down the shaft. A wave of pleasure hit Lamar, who moaned and leaned back, laying down again on the couch, the same position he had been asleep in just a few minutes ago. “Yo, honky, you just playin’ wit’ it. I’m lettin’ you swing on that shit, you best handle it proper. Don’t you blueball me.”
“I’d never do that,” Rob said. “You want me to swallow it now?”
Every fiber of Lamar’s being told him to say yes. He writhed on the couch, cock throbbing in Rob’s hand. But still, Lamar didn’t. He crossed his arms over his chest.
“If you want, I ain’t into that nasty-nasty, and I got females all over,” Lamar said, even as he gasped and writhed beneath Rob’s touch. “I, uh… I mean… I’m just doin’ this for a couch to crash on. If’n you okay wit’ just swallowin’ a nut, I ain’t tryin’-a, y’know, do nothin’ wit’ you, I ain’t swallowin’ nothin’.”
“I would never make you swallow anything,” Rob said. He kept stroking Lamar’s shaft, but he kept his rhythm slow and inconsistent so Lamar’s body cried out for a warm, wet mouth.
Lamar murmured. “You best pay me,” he said. He laughed at himself, and at Rob, as he covered his face with a pillow to avoid seeing Rob’s masculine features.
“You want money?” Rob said. “How about I let you borrow my car? Is that okay?” Rob could afford plenty of money, but he had a feeling admitting that to Lamar would end up poorly for him. So he was pretending to be poorer than he was.
“Borrow your car, like anytime?”
“As long as you live here,” Rob said. “And let me keep playing with your dick.”
“Fine, fine,” Lamar said. “Okay. Just get me off…” His voice was muffled because of the pillow over his face.
Rob put the tip back in his mouth again, and he suckled on it loudly. Lamar moaned and his back arched. He nearly leapt off the couch. Then Rob removed his mouth and giggled. “You want me to swallow or spit?”
“Swallow, swallow, man, come on, just do it,” Lamar said, his attempt to show reluctance now forgotten. He roared in frustration and bit the pillow in front of his face. His youthful muscles cringed, and his dick reached up into the air, searching instinctively for a hole to penetrate. “C’mon, man, I gotta blow my load-“
Rob mounted Lamar the best he could as he laid on the couch, so that Rob’s dick and Lamar’s met. Lamar looked away and groaned, while Rob began frotting both cocks together.
“Let’s cum together,” Rob said.
A loud sucking sound came from Lamar’s mouth. He’d jousted with his niggas before in a bitch’s mouth, but he’d never frotted before. He looked at his massive cock rubbing against Rob’s, which was smaller but not small enough that Lamar could really make fun of him for it. Lamar looked away. “C’mon, man, nah, nah-” He grunted.
“Your dick is so big…” Rob said with a smile.
“I know but — I know but — I-” Lamar didn’t want to ruin a good thing by refusing or hitting Rob, though his hand formed a fist like he might do it out of instinct. Really Lamar wouldn’t have minded frotting — it was gross, but for a place to sleep, he could live with it — as long as he could guarantee Rob wouldn’t cum on his face or go any farther than this. And Lamar wished he could sober up and eat something first.
“Sorry, sorry, can’t help it…” Rob said, his voice warbling and breaking, as he shot his load. Pleasure wracked Rob’s body, and a jet of jizz spurted out. It plopped onto Lamar’s dick and into his crotch hair, but then Rob aimed it up to his six-pack and beyond.
Lamar groaned in disgust, and cum sprayed over his powerful brown chest. It made his tattoos gleam as his muscles flexed. Pleasure shuddered through Rob’s body, making him shimmy and shake, and his cock pulsated where it rubbed on Lamar’s own dick.
“I won’t cum on your face,” Rob said, but even as he said that Rob leaned back and moaned again, and his last spray of cum got as far as Lamar’s chin.
“Ew, man, shit…” Lamar let out a nervous chuckle as he wiped his chin off. He faced away from Rob, so he didn’t get more cum on his face and didn’t have to watch his cock frot with Rob’s. “You gonna swallow my load, right?”
Rob did so without another word. He jammed his own head into Lamar’s crotch, swallowing as much of that massive shaft as he could get in his throat. Rob gagged and choked, but kept going until he had nearly every inch. He tasted Lamar’s machismo in the precum trickling down his throat, its salty flavor and creamy thickness overwhelming his senses.
“Aaaaaaaaah….” Lamar moaned like he was finally scratching an itch he had been trying to reach for a long time.
Then Lamar grabbed Rob’s head to plow down on his throat. Rob loved that, and Lamar normally did too, but as soon as he did, Lamar knew it was a bad idea. That’s because Rob had very short hair, and when Lamar touched it, he was reminded of the man on his dick.
Lamar groaned with disappointment. His dick didn’t get any softer, but it did slow down. That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, since Rob thought he could still take this farther. But for now, Rob thought, Lamar was disappointed that Rob wasn’t a girl.
“Damn, man, I can’t forget you ain’t a bitch,” Lamar said. “Hang on, lemme call this fat chick.” He dialed another number on his phone. “Yo. Hey, baby. Nah, I can’t tonight. I got, uh, y’know, a meetin’ to go to.” The plump girl on the other end was Miranda, and Lamar made sure to emphasize meeting in a way that suggested it was some sort of gang activity. Miranda was a rotund white girl who loved bad boys, so she giggled at the thought of Lamar at a gang meeting. Her voice made Lamar grunt, and another few drops of precum coated Rob’s tongue. Lamar removed the pillow from his face.
Rob moved down to slurp on Lamar’s balls. He put them both in his mouth and gargled loudly, making Lamar laugh into the phone even as he talked to his booty call.
“I know it’s early, baby. I just wanted to hear yo’ voice. I been, y’know, I been in trouble and shit,” Lamar said. His voice kept trailing off, distracted by the feelings of pleasure arising from his sensitive balls in Rob’s mouth. Lamar’s voice cracked. “Yeah, baby. I’m in jail. Uh-huh. I be out soon. My lawyer is comin’ to bail me out. Uh-huh. Can you talk me off? I’m jackin’ it right now.” He paused and laughed. “Yeah, there’s some whiteboy here cryin’. I think he okay, he just glad I ain’t gonna beat his ass.” He paused and affected a charming smile. “Yeah, I’s talkin’ ’bout you, whiteboy. If there wasn’t a phone in here, I’d be beatin’ you to shreds just to pass the time.”
As Lamar talked, showing off to his female friend, Rob continued slurping on his balls. Then he moved back up to the shaft. His tongue traced the pulsating veins all the way from root to tip.
“Yeah, you gonna give up the booty, right? Maybe I skip that meeting tonight, after I get bailed out. Maybe I come over. Uh-huh. You gonna let me tap that ass, right? No condom. Uh-huh. I wanna taste yo’ titties, girl,” he said. He groaned. “Maybe I titty-fuck you for a bit. You know I love thick-ass bitches and I am — no, wait! Baby! Baby!” He screamed into the phone, which he then threw onto the ground. “Fuck you! Fuckin’ hell!” He roared and slapped his own thighs. His dick throbbed in Rob’s mouth. “Fuck!”
Rob pulled off his dick. “What happened?”
“I called her a thick-ass bitch,” Lamar said. “I sorta forgot she was white and she gonna take that as an insult. Ain’t no insult!”
“Oh, that’s too bad, baby…” Rob thwacked Lamar’s erection against his face.
“She ain’t even listen to me explain. I was in jail, y’know, I prolly heard all kind of bad words. I just forgot to moderate myself, y’know,” he said. He groaned as he started to grind his hips, shoving his dick back into Rob’s mouth.
Rob pulled away, gently stroking Lamar’s dick even as Lamar flexed his hips, trying to get his knob wet again. Rob said, “You’re not in jail.”
“Yeah, but she thought I was!” Lamar said. He squirmed, his body overly energetic from both horniness and anger. “Ain’t fair. You can’t hang up on a nigga who call you from jail, just cuz he use some bad words. It’s fuckin’ jail!”
“Sure, sure,” Rob said. He licked Lamar’s dick from root to tip. Once again, Lamar grabbed his head and tried to force it back into position to swallow his whole shaft. Rob resisted. Lamar didn’t even seem to be aware of the fact that he was trying to force his dick into Rob’s mouth, he just kept talking about how angry he was at the girl and his cock and his hands worked on autopilot.
Rob enjoyed teasing him. Every few seconds, he’d let Lamar ram his dick down his throat. Lamar would moan and let go of Rob’s head. Then Rob would pull off and Lamar would swear some more before doing it again.
“That fuckin’ bitch, she don’t know jack shit! She think she my girlfriend, she think I just fuck other females cuz my niggas expect it. That’s what I tell her. She dumb as shit. She dumb as her own fat ass.”
“Are you gonna go back to her and apologize?”
Lamar thought for a moment. “Yeah. I prolly will. Not fo’ awhile. Give it a month or two, and I’ll go over there in the night, tell her I been in lockup and I need a woman’s touch. I be back in her asshole right quick, I tell you that!” His anger was gone now. He laid back and let Rob lick his cockshaft.
“Speaking of assholes…” Rob said.
“You want me to stick you?”
Rob nodded.
He sighed dramatically, and recovered his face with his forearm. “You gotta buy me somethin’. There’s a gold chain wit’ a platinum crucifix on it. Got rubies and some shit. Fair-trade mined in Kenya,” he said. “You gotta buy me that.” He paused. “And Netflix, man. Why ain’t you got Netflix?”
Rob laughed. “I just don’t watch a lot of TV. I’ll get Netflix, I’ll buy you that chain, no problem.”
“You ain’t fuckin’ wit’ me, is you?”
“I swear,” Rob said. “You gotta do something else for me too though.”
“What’s that? I ain’t touchin’ yo’ dick, whiteman. Don’t even try and ask me fo’ a reacharound.” He groaned and slapped his dick over Rob’s face.
“No, not that. Call my dad.”
“What?”
“Call my dad and tell him what’s going on,” Rob said. He explained about how much he hated his father and how he loved humiliating him.
Lamar looked dubious at first, but then he smiled. He and his friends often made fun of this crackhead named Greenbelly, and Lamar did a spot-on impression of him. He was so excited to use that impression that he wasn’t even nervous as Rob’s ass slid onto his cock.
It was only as he dialed that Lamar realized he could feel Rob’s short ass-hairs on his dick. With wide eyes, Lamar watched Rob slide up and down. The feeling was disgusting — faint, but still, Lamar could feel it too strongly to pretend he was with a woman. He turned his head away so he wouldn’t have to see it.
“Hello?”
“Yo, you got a son who a real bitch? I got my dick in his ass, and he keep squirmin’. What’s up wit’ dat, honky? Huh? I’m tryin’-a smoke some crack while I dip my dick in ‘im, and he don’t sit still.”
Rob was distracted by the pain and pleasure in his ass, but he still laughed. Lamar’s crackhead-impression was great, with a frantic, clipped tone like he was really angry Rob was interfering with his crack-smoking. Rob’s father didn’t say anything on the other line, but his scoffing and his annoyed breathing were audible.
“Huh? You gonna make him sit still? Gonna burn yo’ boy wit’ dis crack pipe. He pay me eight dollar, honky, and I tells him dat, fo’ eight dollar, you get my dick and you get my hepatitises and you get my Lucy on yo’ back — I calls my crack pipe Lucy — she say I gotta smoke her e’ry day. What? What do you call yo’ crack pipe? Oh, you don’t name it? It ain’t gonna know it’s special if you don’t-” Lamar paused. “Oh, he hung up.”
“You’re really good at that,” Rob said as his prostate exploded with pressure and intense pleasure. Lamar’s cock throbbed in his ass.
“Yeah, that’s my Greenbelly impression. He this crackhead I know back in the projects, always sellin’ wifebeaters and shit,” he said. He snorted and sat up. Rob was sitting on Lamar’s crotch, so Lamar had to struggle to rearrange himself. “Gonna blow a nut in ya. Then I gotta take yo’ car and go visit my parole officer. You buy Netflix and make sure you got a credit card you can charge two grand on. When I get back, we goin’ to the mall so you can buy me that chain.”
“Okay,” Rob said, wincing as he moved with Lamar’s thirteen-inch cock inside him.
Lamar swayed as he got up on his feet — he hadn’t stood since last night — but he regained his balance quickly. He took a deep breath and slammed his dick in and out hard.
It was an intensely awkward position. Lamar alternated between trying to pretend he was a hardcore thug who knew how to treat a man like a prison bitch, and pretending he was so utterly macho he was disgusted by what he was doing. In reality, the truth was in between — he wasn’t disgusted, really, just awkward and glad his friends weren’t here to see.
Lamar forcefully pushed Rob’s face to the floor, while he lifted Rob’s hips. It was an awkward position for Rob, who took Lamar’s dick with such force he had trouble keeping his feet on the ground, meaning a large portion of his weight was supported by his own head.
Now that he was in position, Lamar drilled his cock in deep. He bellowed and pounded on his chest while he used all his weight to slam his dick in deeply. He chuckled and looked around as though waiting for his niggas to laugh with him, but of course they weren’t here.
Then he grabbed Rob’s hips and gyrated his crotch. He slammed his dick in a few times before he realized he was touching Rob’s mannish body. He let go and pounded freestyle for a couple seconds.
“Damn…” He grabbed Rob’s hips again to steady him, but then dropped him again. Every time Lamar felt Rob’s male body-hair, it reminded him he wasn’t with a woman, so he let go.
He felt like that slowed him down, like every time it happened he got farther from his orgasm. But that wasn’t really true. Lamar was too young for much of anything to slow him down — it just slowed down his mind.
So he was still thinking that he had to struggle to cum when an orgasm hit him suddenly. He grunted and yelped, embarrassed at his own animated reaction — he had thought he’d barely be able to do it at all, but he actually shot one of the biggest loads of his life.
His tight young muscles all flexed at once, and he groaned. Rob moaned in harmony with him, which made Lamar nervous because he could hear the masculine twinge to Rob’s voice. Pleasure ran up Lamar’s spine, so intense it made Lamar shudder and shake.
A torrent of cum flooded Rob’s ass. It came in thick waves, great gobs of cum flowing into him. Lamar groaned as he spewed more and more, laughing at himself and at Rob — was this a normal amount? He thought he might just be surprised because he was with a man, and it wasn’t really a normal sensation for him.
The cum just kept on coming, and it filled up Rob’s hole. It dripped out the sides of his ass, coating Lamar’s cock and dripping in gobs onto the floor.
Just when Lamar thought he was done, Rob shuddered. That caused a couple things to happen all at once. First, an intense orgasmic aftershock hit Lamar. Second, the motion made a great clump of cum plop out and into Lamar’s hairy crotch. Third, the sight of that happening made Lamar gag. So all at once, Lamar both experienced a second mini-climax and was overcome with such physical disgust that he retched.
And all that combined to make him laugh. Lamar always laughed at things that made him uncomfortable. He gingerly removed his rapidly limpening cock, and the sight of it covered in pearly white cum made him gag again.
“Yo, I gotta get a picture fo’ Killer,” Lamar said, his discomfort totally gone now. He grabbed his phone and snapped a photo of his cock, which was white with the semen that still soaked into it. He sent the photo to Killer with the caption, ‘this is what I looked like after sloppy-fifths. That’s yo’ nasty all over my dick, nigga’.
He stood up and ignored Rob, who laid there with his ass in the air, exulting in his own post-orgasmic pleasure. Lamar wandered off towards the bathroom, watching his gigantic dick throb and shake as it limpened.
“Gonna take a shower, honky,” Lamar said. “Don’t forget to buy Netflix.”
“Okay,” Rob said, his voice weak and breathless.
Lamar sauntered into the shower, already dialing his parole officer to make excuses for being late. He wasn’t late yet, but Lamar assumed he probably would be.
Besides, he thought as he stepped into the shower, there was a black slut who lived near the parole office. He could stop by and see her beforehand, get his dick wet in a real pussy and probably smoke a blunt. She usually had weed.
‘Oh, that reminds me! I should’ve asked for that!’ Lamar poked his head out the bathroom door, just before he stepped in the shower. “Yo, honky, leave some money on the counter for me. Like eighty bucks. I wanna buy some weed too.”
“Okay!” Rob said. He smiled as he put the cash out for Lamar and fired up his long-canceled Netflix account.

The Driller

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

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read it the whole thing here!

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

The Stripper

Lemond is a stripper who needs a break… and a few extra dollars! Avery is glad to help out in return for a swing on Lemon’s huge throbbing slab of mahogany meat!

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Avery had never been to a high-class bachelorette party. It was not at all what he expected. The bride-to-be was Daphne Jardine, a wealthy heiress to a chandelier fortune. Avery didn’t know her that well — she was just a friend of a friend whom he saw often at parties — but she had insisted he come. Avery only agreed because he hoped to see a stripper. Avery was a great admirer of the male form, and strippers often had incredible physiques.
When he arrived, however, at Daphne’s ancient mansion, Avery decided that wasn’t going to happen. This wasn’t that sort of party. People who owned mansions like this didn’t hire strippers. He didn’t realize Daphne was this rich.
A butler showed Avery to the party, which consisted of a half-dozen women drinking champagne. The decorations were present, everywhere, scattered expertly, chic and expensive, covering every part of the mansion, but they had a certain soulless quality — Avery could tell that some servant had put them up, not someone who actually wanted to attend the party. There were streamers and a golden goblet for the bride to drink out of, and the giftbag included a skin cream with actual diamond dust in it.
“Oh my god, Avery! I’m so glad you’re here!” Avery’s friend Mandy hugged him. She whispered in his ear, “Oh my god, Daphne has such a stick up her ass, it’s… like a whole tree.”
“Woo, we’re partying! Let’s bring out the cake!”
“Yeah! Oh my god, Daphne, do you know what your fiancé is doing tonight?”
Daphne sat, skeletal and grimly smiling — she was skinny and well-manicured, with brittle hair and a saccharine smile — and shaking her head. “I don’t know, he wouldn’t tell me what men do on their bachelor parties.”
“You know what they’re doing…” Avery said with a laugh.
Daphne shot him an angry look. “I told him no stripper, if that’s what you’re implying, Avery. We are remaining loyal to each other. He wouldn’t do that to me.” She shuddered.
“Okay, sorry….” Avery murmured. He rolled his eyes. The putative stripper was the only reason Avery came.
But now, it seemed, she was opposed to strippers. As a servant of some sort — some sort of “games maid”? Avery didn’t know — brought them out a game to play, Avery considered leaving. This felt more like a child’s birthday party thrown by the servants than a real bachelorette party.
The music playing, Avery realized, was a nocturne by Chopin. What kind of bachelorette party played classical music?
The game was essentially Duck, Duck, Goose, but with little penis-shaped cookies — it might have been fun with a bunch of silly girls, a male stripper and enough alcohol that they were all drunk before beginning the game. With just Daphne and some other haughty bitches, none of whom would drink enough to get tipsy much less drunk, the game was a somber, annoying diversion.
There was a knock on the front door — the cavernous main hallway had an echo, so the knock was audible even in the party. Everyone turned to look at Daphne, but she just said to wait. “Velma will answer the door. I believe this is all the guests, right? Are we missing someone? No one else was invited.” Daphne furrowed her brow.
Avery sat in grim silence. No one wanted to start the next round of this utterly idiotic game knowing that whoever the new partygoer was would interrupt them momentarily. Avery looked among the women here — who was missing? Most of these women showed up to parties together, that was how Avery knew them. Mandy was an associated hanger-on who used to work with Daphne at her feminist bookstore, and she was how Avery came to know Daphne and the others. Now Mandy’s eyes twinkled in Avery’s direction.
The door opened, and in walked a tall, broad-shouldered black man in a fine suit. He had dimples like LL Cool J and light brown skin, with a broad chest that barely fit in the suit. It was a plain navy blue suit with an impeccable alabaster tie. He walked with swagger and a thick jaw, and the bulge in his pants attracted Avery’s eye.
“Daphne Jardine?” he said. He had a clipboard in hand.
“Yes.”
“You’ve been served,” he said. He handed over a stack of documents to her.
Daphne’s face turned into a bitter scowl. “I’m being served! You asshole! It’s my bachelorette party! How dare you?!” She called out of the room. “Velma! How could you let this man in? He’s not from the party! Velma! I swear to Christ, I’ll have your son deported-!”
“Daphne, wait! Wait!” Mandy got up and went to her.
But Daphne was in a rage, screaming at Velma in the hallway. Velma quaked and backed away from her. “Don’t tell me to wait, what is this? Is it that jerkoff from the City Council? I told him I read the code, his patriarchy won’t bring me down,” she said to the black man who had served her with papers. His eyes were opened wide like he was shocked she was upset. Daphne wagged her finger at him. “Are you a real process server? I’d like to formally dispute that I was properly served-“
“Daphne, what are you being sued over?” Mandy asked with a big grin on her face. She pointed to the papers in Daphne’s hand.
Daphne sighed and shook her head. “The city council has a bee in its bonnet about my store. They’re claiming that a bookstore is a Class D commercial establishment, but the definitions provided in the zoning code make it clear that Class C is the more appropriate fit. That’s for retail stores that aren’t everyday shops like gas stations. The examples given in the city code include a CD store — the zoning guide was written in the 90s — which is pretty much the same thing as a bookstore, right? Why would it-?”
“Daphne, look at the papers,” Mandy said, exasperated.
Daphne nodded and glanced at them, but it was obvious she was too worked up to really process what she was reading. She looked at the black man. “You! What are you still doing here? This is a private function, and you’ve done what you were hired to do, you jackal! You court-sponsored… hound!” Her face was ruddy, veins popping against the skin of her neck.
“Hey, lady, relax,” the black man said with a sigh. He straightened his tie.
“Daphne! Read the goddamn papers!” Mandy said.
“Now? I have lawyers for that, Mandy,” Daphne said. She finally looked at the papers and read the words. “I’m being sued for… improper use of party-related materials and utter craving for mahogany manmeat. What does that mean? I don’t use mahogany, that’s endangered, I would never do that! This inaccurate accusation will not stand! I’m being persecuted!” It was apparent she was still worked up because she said manmeat like she didn’t recognize it. She looked up. “I will be contacting the National Organization for Women and-“
The black man looked at her. “That’s right, but don’t worry, I’m here to work on both of those charges with you! I am… the Mahogany Miracle!” He shrugged his suit jacket off, and Mandy squealed, followed by the other girls, at the sight of his incredible shoulders straining against the tight fabric of his button-down shirt.
Mandy pressed play on an app on her phone, and the sound of pulse-pounding hip hop filled the air. Avery hurried to turn off the Chopin, though no one could hear it anymore.
“Wooooooh!”
“Oh my god, that’s so crazy!”
“He’s a stripper!!!!”
Finally it began to feel like a real party. The Mahogany Miracle — who later said his real name was Lemond — took his tie off and wrapped it around the back of Daphne’s neck like a lasso, and he pulled her closer to him as he danced. He puckered up as though to kiss her. He had good instincts though, and when Daphne frowned a little, he let go — obviously she didn’t want to kiss him. She was still fuming about the City Council’s zoning regulations.
So he kissed Mandy instead. She was coming up behind him, pretending for the benefit of the other girls that she was going to grab his ass. Then he turned around, took her in his arms and plowed his tongue into her throat and they swooned together like the hero of some romance novel.
Mandy squealed and grabbed at Lemond’s back. His shoulder muscles barely fit in that shirt, which looked like it could pop right off.
“Woo-hoo!” Avery danced with some of the more demure women, hoping to get the party going. Most of these women were too high-class to have ever seen a stripper before, and Avery thought they’d be more comfortable with it if they started off dancing with him.
“Dance with him!”
“Avery! Avery! Avery!”
Avery hadn’t even realized that some of the women were chanting for him to get the next dance — Lemond the Mahogany Miracle was surrounded by Mandy and a few other relatively bold women, while Avery and the other prudes danced in the other side of the room. Now they all began chanting for Lemond to come to him.
At first it seemed Lemond would refuse, that he would say he didn’t dance for men. But then he shrugged, took one step and ripped his button-down shirt off, buttons flying across the room. One button landed in Daphne’s glass of champagne, and she squealed in both shock and delight.
“Oh god…” Avery murmured to himself. Lemond had an impeccable chest, with big mountainous pectorals and a six-pack more perfect than Avery had ever seen. He looked good in his slacks, a big bulge plainly visible in his crotch. His chest was smooth, unblemished, gleaming with a few beads of sweat that had collected there as he danced.
Avery blushed and pantomimed a fishing rod, as though he had lured Lemond, who grinned and played along — neither could speak because the music was too loud. Lemond shimmied over to him, and leaned back to outstretch his chest.
“Body shots!” Avery shouted, and got on his knees right in front of Lemond. He put his tongue out, touching the firm flesh of Lemond’s waist just above his pants, while Mandy poured a bottle of champagne onto Lemond’s chest, so that it ran between his pecs and poured directly into Avery’s mouth.
“Hell yeah!”
“Body shots! Oh my god!”
That helped loosen things up. Avery was glad for that; it felt more like a party now, even if Daphne herself seemed glum. The girls took turns taking body shots off his chest, until those slacks were soaked with champagne.
Then he ripped the pants off, revealing his trunk-like thighs, toned calves and the sausage-hugging banana hammock he wore over his cock and balls. Avery’s jaw dropped — he had never seen such a huge package before. The banana hammock briefs were much too small for him, just like the suit, and if he hadn’t shaved it, most of his pubic hair would be visible. As it was, his heavy cock and balls weighed down the tiny spandex material so much that the root of his shaft was visible.
Mandy took her body shot with her tongue out, running over the round bulge of his cock through those briefs. The girls all squealed and clapped.
It was shocking, Avery thought, how the presence of a handsome stranger changed these women’s willingness to do stuff — he was quite sure that most of them had said they didn’t suck dick at a party last year — they had said oral sex was “oppressive to women in developing nations”; they certainly didn’t lick some stranger’s cock.
And now here they were, kneeling while a man whom none of them knew dragged his dick over their faces.
He was really very handsome, Avery thought, Mandy had chosen well. He was dimpled and charming when the music stopped, with a lilting, smooth voice. He came across like the streetwise older brother on a Nickelodeon kids’ show.
Finally, he let Daphne take that banana hammock off. She gingerly squealed, giggling, blushing, halting several times as she stuck one finger under the fabric and pulled it down. His thirteen-inch cock popped out, limp but meaty, and it slapped at her wrist.
“Oh my god! It felt like a leg of lamb!” Daphne screamed so loud that the “games maid” came to make sure everything was alright. Daphne held her hand up as though they were going to worship any body part that had touched Lemond’s body.
At last, the bachelorette party continued apace, and Avery felt right. Lemond flopped his dick all over Avery’s face — most of the girls hadn’t quite taken it that far, but Avery made it clear he’d love to. He even stuck his tongue out, chasing Lemond’s shaft as it heavily slapped him all across the face.
“Hmmmm… I’m not s’posed to let you lick it,” Lemond said with a wink. “My agency has a rule against that.”
“I just stuck my tongue out,” Avery said. “I wasn’t trying to lick it, it’s not my fault your dick keeps moving around all over my tongue.” He blushed, running his tongue from the root to the tip before Lemond moved on.
By then, some of the girls had passed out, or were nearly there. Even Daphne was half-asleep. Most of these girls didn’t really drink very often. A few glances of champagne was enough to make them sleepy.
Soon enough, the party was over. It happened quickly once it got closer — every time somebody passed out or called for a rideshare, there was one fewer person actually partying, which made the others more and more tired. Even Daphne “retired to her bedroom” with a guilty look on her face that suggested she was going to fuck herself with a dildo until she could forget about Lemond.
The only people left were Avery, Mandy and Lemond, and with the music off, all they ended up doing was sitting around and talking. Mandy was drunk, but neither Lemond nor Avery had had anything to drink. Lemond rolled them up a blunt with the weed Mandy had brought.
Before he lit it though, Mandy begged off. She said she had a headache and thought the weed would just make her throw up. She told them to go ahead and smoke it though.
Lemond talked about his career as a rapper as he lit it and passed it to Avery, who was entranced by that fat cock sticking to his thigh. Lemond, as it turned out, was more realistic than most of the aspiring rappers Avery had met — he wasn’t trying to be a gangsta, he didn’t care about street credibility at all — he was a kid’s entertainer. He had released an album of songs about counting, letters, body parts and colors. It had done well, he said — he didn’t make much money, but he was about to go into the studio for a follow-up, and this time, he had a much better contract.
“But for now, you know, I still gotta strip to make ends meet. This month is tough,” Lemond said. “There ain’t a lotta call for strippers in March. It’s been a dry spell.
“Oh that sucks,” Avery said. “I wish I knew of some more parties coming up you could strip at.”
Lemond shrugged. “I’ll figure something out. Lemme know if you get an idea,” he said. He handed over a business card. Then he sighed. “I guess I should go. Technically they hired me for another twenty minutes, but…”
“I… I have an idea,” Avery said. He licked his lips and looked at Lemond. “If you stick it in me, I’ll give you five hundred dollars.”
Lemond looked at him as though his knee-jerk reaction was to say no. Then he shrugged. “Make it eight hundred.”
“Fine.” Avery considered haggling, but he could afford it, and Lemond had been so charming, he didn’t want to nickel-and-dime him.
Lemond sighed and leaned his head back as though this was a huge imposition and he was exhausted. Avery wondered for the first time if he had been working up to this — was he a hustler? He had been hesitant, yet willing, to dance for Avery all night, and now he was hesitant yet willing? If shaking his ass for Avery had been uncomfortable, why would he agree to plow into him? Lemond grumbled a bit, but it was too realistic, like Lemond knew the best way to get more money was to pretend he needed to be convinced to do it.
Oh well, Avery shrugged. That was part of being into rough trade, he thought, sometimes you got hustled.
“Your cock is so big,” Avery said as he picked it up with one hand. He sunk to his knees between Lemond’s legs, while Lemond lit up his blunt and took a deep drag off it. The fragrant smell of weed filled the air. Lemond’s dick was so big Avery couldn’t wrap his fingers all the way around it. “It’ll be a challenge to swallow.”
Lemond snorted. “You can’t deep-throat it, no one can,” he said like he hated having a big cock. But a smile flickered over his lips too.
“Well, I can’t wait to try,” Avery said. He let the tip fill his mouth. There was still a good ten inches of dickmeat left to slurp on, but Avery just focused on the tip at first.
“Man… I can’t believe I’m lettin’ a man jack me off,” Lemond said as he smoked on the blunt. “I ain’t like that, you know? Don’t fall in love with me. I can’t look, I gotta cover my eyes.” He leaned his head back and put one of his forearms over his eyes. He left enough room for him to keep smoking on the blunt.
Avery had to roll his eyes. This had passed the point of believability — Lemond was too focused on smoking weed to lie effectively. If he was really this nervous about being with a man, he wouldn’t be ignoring Avery to smoke the blunt. Who got off from a man for the first time, made a big deal out of it and then ignored it to smoke some weed?
But Avery wasn’t going to accuse him of being a hustler. He was plenty handsome, after all, that wasn’t a trick.
His dick firmed up in Avery’s mouth, but it was too big to really get hard without some serious deep-throating. Avery took a deep breath and used his own fingers to pry his jaw open the best he could. He let that massive rod slide down him.
“Damn, I never had a man jack me off like that,” Lemond said with a sigh. “You really get deep.” Then his whole body startled and he blurted out, “I mean, I never had a man jack me off at all.” He laughed nervously. “See, uh… Cuz it’s my first time.” His eyes opened wide as a visible shiver of pleasure ran up his spine. “Goddamn… You can get awful deep on there…”
Avery was an expert at swallowing dick. He had been practicing on loosening up his throat for years — he did exercises daily — and was glad to see that was paying off. He pulled off and hocked up a big mouth full of spit. Lemond watched with a cocky grin on his face. Avery moaned through the moisture in his mouth, murmuring, “Hmmm… I wanna taste your whole dick in my throat…”
Lemond licked his tongue. The clue was in his mouth, Avery saw, which was grinning and pursed, excited, glad to get a nice mouth, while his eyes showed the shock he was trying to display — he was a good liar, it was just hard to lie with your mouth. Lemond’s eyes had never been jacked off by a man, but his mouth was a hustler.
Saliva slid down his shaft as Avery slammed his head down. He choked but kept going, hands roaming up to Lemond’s gorgeous pecs. Soon he gagged over and over, producing more spit that helped lube up Lemond’s throbbing manhood, and his nose pressed into the shaved skin of Lemond’s crotch.
“Goddamn, holy fuck, you’re — shit!” Lemond’s voice broke, and he writhed on the chair he still sat on. His muscles all flexed and he grunted loudly. He dropped the blunt on the floor. Thirteen inches of stripper manmeat flooded Avery’s throat, stretching it and making him sputter. His jaw was sore.
Though Avery’s mind cried out for oxygen, he didn’t want to stop just yet. He didn’t mind his lungs desperation or the heaving, retching his body went through. The fact that this was slightly painful just made it hotter, he thought, and all the tension in Avery’s body was in Lemond’s too as he approached his orgasm. The only difference was that Avery’s lithe body twisted, while Lemond’s thickness flexed and firmed up. Lemond gasped and shifted around on his chair. Soon he was literally on the edge of his seat, licking his lips, gripping Lemond’s ears to keep his face angled the right way.
At last, Avery pulled all the way off and gasped loudly, hoarsely, for air. He grinned at the shocked look on Lemond’s face. “Hmmm… Your dick tastes so good.”
“I know, baby.”
“You wanna stick it in me?” Avery said. He turned around, still heaving for air and dizzy from lack of oxygen. He showed off his bare ass, lowering his face to the floor. “C’mon, I wanna feel you inside me.”
“Hell yeah, lemme in there,” Lemond said. He wedged his dick between Avery’s cheeks. “You feel how big that is? Huh? You gonna take that whole thing in there? I bet you can.”
“I can… You won’t be gentle, will you?” Avery asked with a giggle.
Lemond chuckled. “Not if you don’t want, baby,” he said. He aimed his dick for the hole as he smeared lube over the shaft — he had apparently brought his own lube. He bit his lip and slid the tip in. Avery grunted and tightened his body instinctively, before taking a deep breath and relaxing it. He sighed. Lemond slapped one asscheek, then he grunted like he had forgotten he was supposed to be reluctant.
“Shit, you as smooth as any female, I like that in a man-” he winced and cut himself off again. “Not that I ever did it before. I like — That’s why I was, y’know, reluctant, I wasn’t sure I could handle a man’s ass. That’s all.”
“Uh-huh. Cuz… it’s your first time?” Avery said with a tense giggle. He had to suck in his breath to relax his ass more and more, as that entire thick shaft slipped in deeper and deeper. “That’s good lube,” Avery said between gasps.
“Yeah, it’s Shaft-Slipper, you ever heard of it? Good stuff, it’s what I always bring to shows.” He paused. “With women, I mean. Women pay for, you know…” He shuddered and his voice broke. His dick was all the way in now, all thirteen inches throbbing in Avery’s ass. Lemond backed his cock up, slowly at first as he began gyrating his hips.
“Women pay you for anal? You’re an… anal gigolo?” Avery giggled. It was getting easier to concentrate even with that forearm-sized cock stretching his asshole, and he felt thin slivers of pleasure flowing through his veins.
“Uh… Yeah. Yeah, some of ’em, uh… really love anal,” Lemond said.
“I… don’t believe you,” Avery said, his voice hoarse and breathless. He slid his ass back on Lemond’s cock. “You cornhole men for money all the time, right?”
Lemond smirked but shook his head. “I swear, you’re my first.”
Avery rolled his eyes. “No woman pays to get fucked in the ass by a thirteen-inch cock.” He grunted, reaching behind himself to guide Lemond’s dick in and out. “Only a man would ever do that.”
Lemond grumbled without answering. He wrapped one of his massive biceps around Avery’s head, so Avery’s face was ensconced in his stone-like muscles. His other arm held Avery’s ass firmly in place. “Women love me,” he said, ramming his dick in, the entire shaft in one motion that made Avery howl with pleasure. “They’ll pay anything for my meat…”
Avery’s cock throbbed, precum dripping onto the floor. Avery’s hands flailed, the sensations coursing through his body so intense he couldn’t even jack himself off. He was impaled on Lemond’s rock-hard shaft, and the best part was how Lemond seemed distant now, moaning, groaning, but still just heavy breathing into Avery’s ass — was Lemond really enjoying this that much or was he exaggerating for Avery’s benefit? It was impossible to be sure. Avery squirmed in his arms, gasping, licking, sucking all the sweat off his body.
“Hey… I really need the money, man,” Lemond said. He whispered directly into Avery’s ear. “I’m desperate. You wanna gimme another five hundred bucks? I’ll admit it, you were right, I’ve stuck men before. I’m not proud of it, I just… I need the money, and I need it now.”
“Oh god, stick it in me!” Avery slammed his own ass back and forth the best he could, but he was curled up in Lemond’s arms. Lemond was motionless right now, his cock standing up straight within Avery’s ass. Lemond breathed heavily, his hot air condensing on Lemond’s ear.
“I will. I want to. For five hundred dollars… I’ll do something nasty,” Lemond said. Then he whispered right into Avery’s ear as though it was a secret. “I’ll give you a reacharound and let you kiss me for five hundred dollars. That’ll be thirteen hundred total. No checks.”
“Okay, yes! Yes!”
“You got cash?”
“Not with me! Not all of it! I swear, I can get you the rest! I swear! Do it!”
“Don’t mess with me, man, I’ll mess you up, and not in a way you enjoy,” he said.
“I won’t! I’ll pay!” Avery felt tears in his eyes. He wiggled this way and that on Lemond’s crotch, but he couldn’t move forward or back because Lemond’s powerful arm held him in place.
Lemond thought for a moment, then sucked on Avery’s earlobe and said, “Fine.” He turned Avery’s head to the side, planted his lips on Avery’s and his tongue invaded Avery’s mouth. At the same time, his hand wrapped around Avery’s cock and gave it a stroke.
Avery had never felt anything like this. He had been swallowed up by Lemond’s massive body, and all he could do was take it. He’d never taken dick like this. Lemond’s tongue explored his mouth, while his hand expertly ran up and down his shaft. Avery’s fingers clawed at his stone-like body, which Lemond ignored.
The most intense orgasm of his life smacked into Avery like a train. He would have cried out loud but his mouth was clogged with Lemond’s tongue, so all he did was whimper. His ass loosened, then clenched tightly as Lemond plowed in.
Cum flew over Lemond’s fingers and onto the floor. Lemond had been holding off on his own orgasm, wanting to make Avery cum first — he’d been doing this often enough he had remarkable control over his cock. Once he felt that first spray of sticky cum on his hand, he rocked his hips back and forth a few more times and let his orgasm happen.
Avery shuddered and sobbed — he’d never cried during an orgasm before, but the pain in his ass was so intense he couldn’t help it, even if he didn’t feel the pain — he was aware it was there; he couldn’t help but be aware of the biggest dick of his life throbbing in his ass — it was like a distant pain that was happening to someone else, and Avery could sense it but not experience it.
Instead, he experienced an orgasm. Red-faced and panting, he accepted every drop of Lemond’s load as he begged for more. Avery felt cum trickling throughout him, Lemond’s sticky wad jetting into him deeply, seeping into his flesh until Avery could feel it all over.
His tongue slathered spit over Avery’s face, which was a little sour and salty because he had been slurping on Lemond’s dick earlier — Lemond didn’t like that, but he’d done this often enough it didn’t bother him as long as it was his own precum. He did gag at the taste, but he knew that just turned some men on even more. When he gagged, his broad chest muscles all flexed against Avery’s smooth back.
At last, Avery fell limp, and Lemond knew that meant he was done. He backed up slowly, grimacing at the sight of his shaft stretching out that tight hole. It was full of cum, which seeped out and coated Avery’s ass.
“Shit…” Lemond said with a dry chuckle. He slapped Avery’s cheek. “I’m glad I did that, even if it was… y’know, gross.”
“Right.” Avery was breathless. “And it was your first time.”
“Uh-huh.” Lemond stood. He wiped his dick off and put his pants back on. He didn’t bother to put his pants on too. “I’m all done, man, I’m off. So… I’m leaving.”
“Okay, cool,” Avery said. “Thanks for the dick… Your first time.”
“Right, yeah, first time. I jacked off a man,” Lemond said absent-mindedly. He wasn’t really trying to lie effectively now. “Gross. That was gross. Cuz I never did it before.” He sighed as he got dressed. “You gotta get your phone out.” He snapped when Avery didn’t immediately jump into action. “You got PayUp, right? Go get yo’ phone. You best pay me. Lemond always gets paid.”

The Cholo

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

Can Anthony handle his bedmate’s unbridled machismo?

Read it now as an ebook!

Or read the whole thing here!

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

Thumper & His Prettyboy Cellmate: Ch. 3

Chapter Three

As Lamar grew accustomed to incarceration, things settled into a sort of cruel normalcy. The everyday humiliations of prison life became minor nuisances, and even the food seemed to taste better as memory of a better time faded from Lamar’s grasp.
The one thing Lamar couldn’t get used to was Thumper’s touching. Since he never hit him, the guards wouldn’t intervene, no matter how obvious it was Lamar wanted him to stop. None of the Bloods would back him up either, so Lamar had no choice but to submit and accept it as a part of his prison routine.
About a month into Lamar’s sentence, the air conditioning broke. Lamar begged Thumper to let them take a break from working out until it was fixed, but he looked at him like Lamar was crazy. “The Vasquenzas ain’t gonna stop. The Crips ain’t gonna stop. The Aryan Way ain’t gonna stop.” He continued naming every gang in this prison.
“Okay, okay, I just thought we might wanna keep the sweat down. It smells bad enough in here as it is,” Lamar said.
“Fuck you, nigga. You the stinky one, youngblood,” he said, “Go on, gimme some squat thrusts.”
As soon as Lamar got started, Thumper stripped off his shorts and boxers, so his cock dangled freely in front of him. He stood there watching Lamar and scratched his balls. Lamar knew better than to complain. Why does old nigga got hang his dong out all the time?
Despite the heat and the zesty aroma of old nigga sweat filling up the cell, Lamar managed no to complain as he finished his routine. When Thumper finally told him Lamar was done, Lamar sopped off his sweat with a towel and climbed up to his bed.
“Wait, nigga, come on down here,” he said, “I got somethin’ I been savin’ for a rainy day. Or a sweaty day, whatever.”
Thumper showed him a long, thin blunt. Lamar didn’t see where he had gotten it from, but he must have had it stashed somewhere in the cell. He grinned, and Lamar’s bitterness about his intimacy vanished. Lamar hadn’t gotten high since before his trial.
Lamar sat on the bed next to Thumper. His stark nudity was uncomfortable, but Lamar reminded himself that it was only barely different than the thin layer of fabric Lamar wore. Not really a big deal, Lamar told himself.
He lit the blunt with a strike-anywhere match, and they began passing it back and forth. As always, Thumper answered any questions about pre-prison life with vague handwaving and asked probing questions about him and who Lamar knew in the Bloods back in California.
The first haze in Lamar’s mind appeared. Lamar felt his eyes narrow to slits. In a way, Lamar was glad he hadn’t been able to smoke for a long time cuz it meant Lamar got baked even on Thumper’s tiny blunt.
“You always dodgin’ my questions, Thumper,” Lamar said, feeling bold. “Wuzzup wit’ dat?” Lamar laughed at himself, and Thumper joined in.
“You ain’t wanna know nothin’ ’bout ol’ Thumper,” he said, “I got nothin’ important out there in the real world. No career, no family, no friends. All that’s left of me is what’s in here.”
“Is it true you was a boxer?”
“Shit, I was the best boxer. The Chesapeake Champion,” he said, “Still am. But don’t ax no questions about that, nigga.” He took the roach and dropped it, still lit, in his mouth. He swallowed it and smiled at him. “Hey,” he said, “Gimme yo’ hand.”
Too stoned to think about it, Lamar just extended his hand to him. Thumper took it and caressed it, moving it slowly towards his crotch, Lamar realized he expected a handjob and his heart dropped.
“Hey, stop-“
“Shut yo’ mouth, Lamar,” Thumper said. He whispered, “Don’t you dare say no to me. You still ain’t my bitch. Nobody gotta know what happens in here. If you say no and I gotta force you into it, then you gonna be my bitch. And everybody gonna know that.”
Lamar stopped resisting and looked away from Thumper. He put Lamar’s hand on his dick, and Lamar awkwardly stroked it a few times.
Thumper said, “Come on, face me. Do this right.”
They both turned to face each other on his tiny bed. Thumper pulled Lamar by the legs closer to him, until their thighs were interlocking. He pulled Lamar’s dick outta the fly of his prison boxers.
“See? I ain’t a bad guy. This is a circlejerk, that’s all,” Thumper said. He spat on his hand and flogged Lamar’s dick until it got hard. His hands were softer than Lamar expected, though Lamar felt the calluses and thick muscles underneath his skin. He moved expertly but in a dispassionate way, like a farmer collecting semen from a stud.
Lamar was getting a rhythm on Thumper’s dick, which pulsated in his hands. It was disgusting and made him wish he could wear a glove. It was huge too, a foot long at least, thicker than any dick should be. It was slimy with precum in his grip.
Thumper shot a load with a deep groan that resonated in Lamar’s ear. Lamar hadn’t thought he was giving a good enough handjob for him to cum so quickly, but Thumper must have been horny. His wad spurted all over Lamar’s wrist and forearm. Lamar held his hand up like a mad scientist witnessing his creation, but he couldn’t reach anything except his own bedding to wipe off with.
Lamar gagged and tried to move, but Thumper told him to stay. He used both hands on Lamar’s dick, and Lamar had to admit it was the best handjob he ever had. Spasms of pleasure flew through Lamar’s body, despite his heart pounding and him holding his breath. Thumper moved in rhythm with Lamar’s body, and Lamar could almost forget what a hellhole he was trapped in.
Lamar came with a pained grunt, his load making a hot and stinking mess right in the center of Thumper’s waist. Lamar’s grunt turned into a moan as his whole body buckled, and jizz flew over Thumper’s torso.
When it was all over and Lamar’s dick was limp once more, Thumper wiped all that cum off with his hands, then wrapped his heavy arms around Lamar’s neck, smearing the cum across Lamar’s shoulders.
“There, there,” Thumper said, “That weren’t so bad, nigga, was it?”

Thumper & His Prettyboy Cellmate: Ch. 5

As Lamar’s release date neared, he got more and more relaxed. The light at the end of the tunnel was coming closer, and some days Lamar was almost giddy. Thumper seemed upset that Lamar was leaving — long-timers sometimes felt like that, watching someone they cared about walk away, and Thumper was a definite long-timer. He’d been locked up for thirty years.
After dinner a few nights before Lamar’s release, Thumper brought out a bottle of booze. Not toilet vodka either, this was smuggled-in hooch. “I got us a surprise tonight. A bitch and a bottle. The bitch be comin’ by later.”
Lamar ain’t really enjoy getting head from unwilling bitches, but Thumper never asked permission. He assumed everyone stayed as horny as him, and if Lamar demurred even a little, he’d make fun of him for being less horny than an old nigga. Lamar was too handsome to ever admit he wasn’t horny, or everyone would call him a prettyboy who couldn’t perform.
“Whatcha gonna do when you get out there?” Thumper asked. He must have been able to tell what Lamar was thinking about from the look on his face. Indeed, as Lamar’s release seemed more imminent, Lamar could think of nothing else. Time slowed down. Every day became interminable, feeling longer than the entire first couple months of his sentence.
“Nigga, I am gonna eat,” Lamar said as they waited for the snitch to show up, “I am gonna get my mom to make me something nice, and damn I am gonna eat so much. And then I’m gonna find a bitch, and I am gonna fuck the shit outta her pussy.”
The hours drifted on. The bitch never showed up, They later found out Cell Block Zulu was on lockdown, so not even Officer Crabgut could bring Navarone over. Lamar’s last night was shaping up to be the longest and most boring of his life.
But at least they had booze. Lamar don’t much like liquor, honestly, and he never had, but Lamar wanted to get drunk and knew Thumper wouldn’t let him refuse anyway. So he played along and took shots with him all night. That made the boredom almost tolerable.
Lamar passed out near midnight, glad to finally have his last night nearing its completion. It was a deep, fitless sleep that ended abruptly. He woke up to the feeling of Thumper’s arms around him. His sweaty muscles encircled him, his thighs atop Lamar’s hips, his hands caressing Lamar’s nipples.
“Not gonna ram ya,” he said, “But since you leavin’ anyway, I’m gonna have some fun wit’ yo’ ass. Don’t fight this shit, man. I can still tell every motherfucker in the Bloods you disrespected me behind bars. Just relax.”
“Thumper, no, wait-“
“Sssh, I know you ain’t just tell me no,” he whispered in Lamar’s ear, “I can still tell Crabgut to frame you for something, nigga. I can keep you here as my bitch as long as I want. I’m doing you a favor by just making you my wife for a couple hours, and you won’t never have to see me again afterward. You can even pretend you was so drunk you don’t remember it. That’s what I’m gonna do. Unless you fight me and make me hold you down.”
His dick pressed against Lamar’s asshole but hesitated, as though waiting for him to say yes or no, even though he was going to do it anyway. Lamar didn’t want to say that he agreed to it, so he bit his lip.
“Well? Come on,” Thumper whispered. He nibbled on Lamar’s earlobe and wrapped his arms around Lamar’s shoulders, putting him in a loose headlock. “Am I gonna make love to that ass one time and give you a nice reacharound while I do it? Or am I gonna have you punked out for profit for the next seven to ten years?” He waited again. “Huh?”
“Fine,” Lamar spat onto the pillow in front of his face, “Do it. Just hurry up.”
“Don’t be shitty with me, nigga,” Thumper said, “Or I am gonna get shitty with you.” He pushed his dick into Lamar’s ass, and Lamar howled at a sudden burst of pain. The sound was swallowed up by the pillow, which he bit.
Thumper’s thick muscles dragged along Lamar’s back as he pushed down on him with his whole body. He kept his mouth right next to Lamar’s ear and whispered dirty nothings at him, along with exhortations to relax. “Come on, baby, let me in. I know it hurts, baby, but ya gotta relax, okay? I’m gonna get this whole cock in there one way or another, and I know you don’t wanna fight it. You want it, huh? Say you want it.”
“I… want it.”
“Say my name.”
“Thumper.” Pain blistered up Lamar’s spine, as Thumper grunted and moaned in his ear.
“Come on, put it all together. Make it sound like you like it, nigga. Make me believe it.”
“Thumper, I can’t… I don’t like it,” Lamar said.
“Then act, motherfucker,” he said through gritted teeth. Thumper pushed him into position so he could plow him doggystyle. “This position gonna be tough for you, nigga. You ready for it?”
This time he didn’t wait for him to respond. He shoved his cock in and Lamar squealed involuntarily, lifting one of his legs up like a pissing dog. Thumper slammed his hips against Lamar’s ass and slapped a cheek.
His hands both reached around Lamar’s waist and grabbed his cock. “Okay,” he said, “Here comes the reacharound. See? Not a punk if I get you off too. Don’t bother telling the warden I rammed you. They’ll keep you here for the investigation and then they’ll charge you for sure. It’s against the rules, after all.”
“I won’t… snitch,” Lamar said. He could barely speak from the pain in his ass. Somehow Lamar’s dick was getting hard, yet underneath the agony was an undercurrent of sexual pleasure stemming from his freshly stimulated prostate.
“I know,” he said. “You ready for it? I’m gonna cum, and this is gonna hurt even worse. But you doin’ good, nigga, you ain’t even bleedin’.” This time it was Thumper’s turn to lift a leg like a pissing dog. He began jackhammering into him with every thrust and let out a loud moan. Lamar could feel precum filling his ass underneath the mounting pain.
Lamar screamed, unable to hold it in. He tried to collapse to the ground, but Thumper was prepared and held onto Lamar’s hips to keep him in place. He kept him right in position to ram his cock all the way into. They both ended up on the floor, Lamar on his back and Thumper atoppa him, squirming like an overturned turtle.
That was what sent Thumper over the edge, it seemed, because he grunted, the sound resonating in Lamar’s ear. Thumper thrust once more, and a seep of creamy heat filled Lamar’s guts. Lamar squirmed. Thumper gasped.
Hot cum spilled out of Lamar’s ass and down his crotch, nestling in his unkempt pubic hair. Thumper gently squeezed Lamar’s cheeks. “That was good,” he said wave after wave of jizz jetting into Lamar’s ass, “Now you sit right there while I get you off.”
“Lemme up,” Lamar said, “I can’t cum with your dick in my ass.”
“I told you I gonna make you like it, right? I’m a man of my word,” he said, “So I gonna jack you off until you have an orgasm even with me inside you. That way you’ll always remember Thumper White as the man who made you love cock.”
“I don’t love cock.”
“We ain’t done yet,” Thumper said. His hands rushed up and down Lamar’s shaft, stroking him —Lamar was already hard, a fact of which he was unaware until Thumper started, The sensations flowing through Lamar’s body were intense, and Thumper must have felt them too, cuz he kept moaning like an old nigga into Lamar’s ear. “Now hush up and concentrate. If it takes too long, I’ll get hard and wanna cum up you again.”
Thumper’s limp cock was hot and full inside him, but Lamar tried to ignore that and focus on his own half-hard dick. He again thought of his white female on the outside, imagining that she had waited for him, her fleshy pussy spread wide for Lamar’s dick.
That triggered an orgasm in Lamar, a pained, strugglesome orgasm that made his whole body ached even as pleasure coursed through his veins. Lamar’s cum shot through the air and landed on his belly in a big puddle. Lamar groaned, shocked at how easy it turned out to be. He shot a bigger wad than he had in a long time.
Thumper let his dick flop out of Lamar’s ass, but he stayed there on the floor, his arms wrapped around Lamar.
“Thumper?” Lamar said. Thumper didn’t respond. Lamar started to roll off him, but Thumper sleepily rolled over, pinning him with his bulk. His limp cock pressed against Lamar’s asscrack. “Thumper?” Lamar said, resigned to the fact that he was either sound asleep or was pretending to be, and either way, Lamar was going to be spending his last night in Thumper’s arms.
Between the excitement of his imminent release, his shame at being plowed and his disgust at being spooned by the burly nigga beside him, Lamar thought he wouldn’t sleep at all. But somehow Lamar managed to find Thumper’s strong arms and hot body comforting, and Lamar drifted off to sleep despite the fat dick wedged between his cheeks.
And despite all that or perhaps because of it, it was the best night of sleep in his whole life.