stealing – Mansploitation

The Aryan Bottoms

When Moshe confronts the neo-Nazis protesting his synagogue, he didn’t know what he was in for! That’s cuz he winds up with Tower, the hardcore alpha with a secret need for a twink like Moshe to climb on top!

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

When Moshe saw his new neighbor — ‘Tower’ was his name, according to what Moshe had overheard — among the crowd of men near the synagogue, he marched right up to him and confronted him about the things he had said. Moshe had tried to look the other way when it only affected him, but now Tower was protesting the synagogue, and Moshe couldn’t tolerate that.
He had heard Tower through the paper-thin walls separating their apartments, ranting and raving last night about the Jews, as he talked with someone on the phone. Moshe hadn’t done anything particularly Jewy when they met, so Tower had no way of knowing Moshe was Jewish until they made eye contact there at the synagogue.
Moshe didn’t want to look the other way anymore. Rabbi Kaplan’s words of wisdom today had made him feel like he needed to become a man of action, not timidity. He should confront evil and replace it with good: a simple idea, but one that was hard to put into practice.
“I’ll have you know that those things you said last night — I could hear them through the wall — those things were wrong, and you are an anti-Semite and a big jerk and… and….” Moshe stammered over his words as the other neo-nazis hooted at him. “You shouldn’t protest us. We are kind and gentle, and we don’t want to hurt anyone.” The neo-nazis jeered and sneered. At least they moved away from the synagogue Temple Man Asaf, which let the last few elderly folks inside scurry off to the parking lot.
Tower, on the other hand, remained firmly planted to the ground, his face placid and stony. He was the biggest neo-nazi there, at well over six and a half feet tall, skin white as oyster shell, bedecked with colorful tattoos and a big square jaw like an action hero. He towered over the small, thin and delicate Moshe. He would probably not have confronted Tower if he had realized how big he was. His dimpled face and strong cheekbones would have been handsome if it weren’t for the Aryan gang tats reaching up his neck to his chin.
He actually was handsome, Moshe realized. It was hard to see because of his prison muscles and anti-Semitic tattoos, but it was there — a handsome face. Tower had sweet eyes and a potent jaw and high cheekbones like a Roman emperor.
It looked like the more Moshe spoke, the more Tower hated him, and the other neo-nazis jeered louder and louder. So Moshe just darted away. He blushed. He was glad the neo-nazis couldn’t see him anymore. He felt like an idiot even as he tried to tell himself that he had done what was right — he had expressed his beliefs, he had remained true to himself and spoken righteousness in the face of evil. He just wished he wasn’t such a thin, small man, then he might have had a chance to intimidate some of the nazi scum.
By the time he got home and made himself some dinner, the humiliating incident with the neo-nazis seemed like a distant memory. He had gone to synagogue today, which he often was too pressed for time to do, so he tried to remain proudful of that. He had been attempting to reconnect with his Jewish heritage this year. He sighed as he got the oven started, then went upstairs to change his pants.
As he opened the door, he saw a large man in his bedroom, creeping forward. He halted when Moshe saw him, and then realized it was Tower. He was here, in Moshe’s house, in his bedroom. Moshe screamed, only for Tower to dart forward and clamp one meaty palm over Moshe’s mouth.
His hand was enormous, and it easily covered Moshe’s entire face. His cries of fear were muffled by the man’s gigantic palm. His fingers were tattooed, spiderwebs covering the interior of his middle and ring fingers, so it looked like the space between those fingers was infested with spiders.
“Sssh,” Tower said. “I ain’t gonna hurt you, Jewboy.” He hissed through gritted teeth, and his other hand caressed Moshe’s tender neck. “I ain’t here to hurt ya. I’m-a give you somethin’ I’m pretty sure you’ll like.”
He lowered his hand but kept a tight grip on Moshe’s face and neck. Moshe was intensely aware of Tower’s muscular body, which was intimidating — he was a large man whose sleeveless shirt showed off his thick barrel chest and powerful frame. Neo-nazi tattoos covered his entire body, almost every scrap of flesh from his neck to his ankles.
“What… What do you want?”
“I wanna tell you somethin’ for starters,” he said. He spoke directly into Moshe’s face, so close they were virtually kissing. His big dimpled smile made Moshe swoon now that he was so close that Moshe couldn’t see his cue-ball head or his offensive tattoos. Moshe’s heart fluttered. Tower smiled menacingly. “I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry, about what I said and what happened earlier. I don’t want bad blood wit’ my neighbor. I ain’t really a neo-nazi. I mean… Yeah, I joined the Aryan Way. I did that in prison a couple years back. I had to do it to survive, man.”
“Okay…” Moshe voice faltered, weakly wavering. He barely even listened to Tower’s words because he was so terrified of what was going to happen. “Take whatever you want-“
He sighed and cocked his head to the side. “I ain’t here to rob you, man, I- But since you said that, I am gonna rob you. Ain’t a robbery if you gimme permission, so don’t go calling the police.”
“Fine!”
“But that ain’t why I came here, man. What’s yo’ name?”
“Moshe.”
“I’m Leopold. That’s my real name. Not Tower.”
“Okay, Leopold… Leopold?”
“It’s a family name.”
“Oh, I… Okay, I don’t-“
“I don’t believe in none of that neo-nazi shit. I got these tattoos to fit in.”
“Okay.”
“You don’t believe me?”
“Well…”
“Nevermind, it don’t matter,” Leopold said. “I only stay in the Aryan Way to make money, Jewboy. They got the meth market in this town locked up.”
“Oh. Okay,” Moshe said. A part of him did believe Leopold. It was hard to accept, but Leopold’s general mien right now came across more like a hardened thug who adopted a neo-nazi look to fit in. He smiled self-effacingly, deep dimples flashing in the dim light of Moshe’s bedroom.
Pretending to be neo-nazi in order to sell meth was hardly morally superior to genuinely believing in neo-naziism while coincidentally selling meth, Moshe thought. It wasn’t much of an excuse.
“I want you to do somethin’ for me,” Leopold said. He smiled at the sight of an iPad on the nightstand. He scooped it up and put it in his baggy jeans pocket. Then he sat on the bed and slowly untied his heavy military boots.
“Uh, what are-“
“Get down on the ground, on your knees and open your mouth, Jewboy,” Leopold said. His nostrils flared. “If you’re still here in a minute, we’re gonna mess around, prison-style. One of us might cry a little. One of us is gonna taste a whole lotta cum. One of us just might beg fo’ mercy. You might be able to guess which is which. You can run away if you want. I’ll just hurry up and rob you, then get out. But if you are still here when I get my clothes off… well, we gonna have a little fun. At least one of us is gonna enjoy it. Fair warning: it won’t be kosher.”
Moshe’s mouth dropped. He had always loved skinheads — not the racist kind — shaved men, smooth skin, he loved it all. Tower — or Leopold as he thought of him now — was so muscle-bound and intense he was entirely too much for Moshe, who told himself over and over to leave. Moshe greatly appreciated a sturdy male physique like what Leopold had.
The safe thing to do was run away. He could grab his cell phone out the door, and he could run to the McCloud family down the street. He knew they kept their front door unlocked, so he could just run in, and make noise, wake them up, call the police. He’d be safe.
He didn’t run away. He kept telling himself to do so, but he wanted more than anything to service this hot alpha male. He wasn’t going to be able to force himself to give up on that. He was beginning to believe him about not really being an anti-Semite.
Leopold had taken off both of his boots. He sneered at Moshe. “You fuckin’ pervert. You so nasty, boi. You want me to spit on you?”
“Yes-“
He spat before Moshe could finish answering. He let out a huge wad of saliva that splatted all over Moshe’s face. Moshe sputtered and Leopold guffawed. Moshe was mesmerized as Leopold took off that sleeveless shirt. He had massive pecs, which he flexed and laughed when he saw Moshe’s hungry look.
“I hate weak men,” he said with a hiss that sent a chill up Moshe’s spine. “Take off your clothes. All your clothes.”
Moshe trembled as he unbuttoned his shirt and slowly took it off. Leopold simply undid his belt and let his black pants fall to the ground. He stepped out of them, scratched at his massive cock through the plain white boxers he wore, then pulled them down as well. They were, Moshe suspected, prison-issued underwear.
He was so scared that he didn’t quite process what happened as he dropped his own pants: Leopold simply climbed on the bed and laid on his back on the edge, so his head hung down. There were more spiderwebs tattooed on his face and even spiders tattooed crawling out of his eye sockets — Moshe wondered, terrified, if the spiders represented murder. That was what tears meant when they were tattooed in, he thought, but what did spider-tears mean?
Leopold was so tall he didn’t fit on the bed when he laid crossways. His feet dangled off the edge. He grumbled. “It’s like being in prison again, man. I was seven inches too tall for them bunks. It was like fucking torture after a few months man. I couldn’t stretch my legs at night. It seems minor but it ain’t.”
It was only as he talked that Moshe realized Leopold was laying on the bed as though in position to get throated. In a position for Leopold to get throated. Not Moshe.
Leopold lay on his back with his head dangling over the side of the bed. Moshe shook as he approached. This surely wasn’t right?
“Come here, pervert,” Leopold said. He reached out and grabbed Moshe’s dick with one of those huge hands — Moshe’s dick was not small by any means, but in comparison with Leopold’s massive paws and his large head, Moshe looked like a miniature person. He had to stand on his toes to get his crotch lined up with Leopold’s head. Leopold smiled, flashing deep dimples that would have been handsome if they weren’t on a menacing tattooed face.
Then he opened his mouth and swallowed Moshe’s dick down to the root. He gagged as though he hated it, but his tongue ran up and down Moshe’s shaft like he had extensive practice at it. Moshe was so shocked he yelped and screamed, but muffled the sound himself.
He leaned back a little, as though he’d get in trouble for touching a neo-nazi man’s tattoos. But the man’s body beckoned. Leopold struggled to keep Moshe’s dick in his throat, and every time he gagged, his corded chest muscles roiled. Those softball-sized pecs flexed and relaxed in sync — was that what massive muscles normally looked like? Moshe had never seen anything like that in person. Even as he told himself this was dangerous and he ought to run away, his hands roamed forward and grabbed those nipples.
They were hard beneath his touch. Leopold’s body stretched to accommodate Moshe’s dick, and Moshe writhed, barely able to support himself on his toes as his manhood hardened and sent throes of passion through his limbs. His knees were weak.
The sound of moist suckling filled the air. Moshe could tell he was leaking precum into Leopold’s mouth, but that somehow didn’t seem to bother him. Leopold continued enthusiastically even as his throat sputtered and choked. Leopold managed to stick his tongue out past his lips and flickeringly touch Moshe’s balls with it.
Then at last Leopold pulled off. He growled at Moshe. “I don’t like you, you little bitch. You talk like a goddamn pussy.” Leopold’s eyes narrowed. He jumped to his feet on the bed, his body so big Moshe wondered if he was going to shatter the bedframe. He crouched low, glaring at Moshe, his heavy-hanging balls dangling just in front of Moshe’s face. He had a girthful cock with a red and black swastika tattoo on it. He spat again on Moshe’s face. “I was just… I wondered… Uh… You were strokin’ my dick, and, uh…-“
Leopold jumped down from the bed. He marched forward, his chest bumping up against Moshe as though challenging him to a fight. Since he was so much taller than Moshe, Leopold bumped his chest and belly against Moshe’s face. He outweighed Moshe by more than a hundred pounds of solid muscle, so Moshe could do little more than stumble backwards, pinned against the bedroom wall.
‘Oh damn,’ he thought to himself, ‘am I about to get jewbashed now? Had I been given the gift of one outrageous muscley smooth-bear jerking me off and I squandered it? I shouldn’t have said anything.’ Moshe cursed himself.
“Lemme be clear. I would never swallow no dick,” he said through gritted teeth, stepping even closer with every word until his sweaty belly-meat smacked into Moshe’s face. Moshe could taste the sweat from the giant swastika over his bellybutton, which seemed to taste different, more sour and rancid, than the rest of his sweat. “I’d rip yo’ dick off and choke you to death with it before I touch your dick like this-” he grabbed Moshe’s dick with one callused hand. His rough-hewn fingers stroked it, and he laughed at Moshe’s pale face and frightened shake. “Don’t you ever suggest I might do that. I ate Jews like you up when I was in prison.”
“Oh, okay. Sure. Sure, uh… Leopold,” Moshe said. His voice sounded weak and pinched, and he knew he was rambling, but he couldn’t help himself. “I’ll uh… Sure. You’re not into that. I realize that. You would never jerk me off-“
“Quit talkin’ about it, Jew,” he said. He saw Moshe’s jewelry box nearby, and picked it up. He looked at the handful of cheap necklaces and bracelets, sneered and tossed them on the ground near his pants. “They ain’t worth jack shit.” He sniffed like he was offended. “I’m still gonna steal ’em. Cuz fuck you, that’s why.” He spat on Moshe’s face again.
“Okay. Yeah. I’m sorry. I don’t have any nice jewelry. You might get a few dollars for-!… uh… for that, uh, one… gold bracelet there.” Moshe’s voice trailed off because Leopold grabbed his hand and shoved it behind himself, in between Leopold’s own asscheeks, which were plump, juicy and tattooed with crude statements about various races, inviting them to lick his ass.
Moshe rather wanted to act out some of those statements — Leopold had a round, firm and delicious-looking pair of cheeks, aside from the rude tattoos. But Leopold forced Moshe’s pinkie finger to separate from his others, and before Moshe realized what he wanted, he pushed Moshe’s pinkie into his ass.
Leopold gripped the dresser in front of him, leaning forward a little to separate his cheeks. Moshe gulped nervously. He inserted his pinkie back and forth, slowly at first as Leopold yelped and breathed heavy, struggling to accept it. His broad back muscles rippled, sending distortions up and down the intricate tattoos that crisscrossed his flesh.
“Deeper, Jew!”
As Moshe fingered him, Leopold slowly, painfully moved his body around. He opened each drawer of the dresser and threw all of Moshe’s clothes onto the floor. He stopped only when he found a wad of cash — Moshe’s emergency money. He threw the money onto the pile of clothes and jewelry he intended to steal.
Then Leopold roared, his bullish nostrils flaring. He gripped Moshe’s wrist and held on tight, digging his nails into the flesh. Moshe yelped, thinking he had made a mistake — now, he thought, Leopold’s violent side would come through.
“Listen to me, Jew, since you ain’t got a lotta nice stuff to give me, I’m gonna have to punish you.”
But instead of hitting him, he guided Moshe’s hand to more violently finger his ass. Moshe slipped a second finger in, and Leopold groaned with a mixture of agony and rage. His face was ruddy now, the color spreading down to his massive chest, which was shaved perfectly smooth though Moshe got the impression he was hairy by nature.
Then he jumped around in a full circle to face Moshe, whose fingers left his ass. Leopold’s face was crimson, and he scrunched up his eyes as he roared in frustration and hatred. Moshe’s balls crawled up in his sac, and he was overcome, yet again, by certainty that this was it, that Leopold was about to reveal his true nature.
But Leopold simply made a face like a Hulk, and he flexed his arms like he was trying to terrify Moshe (who could not possibly had been any more frightened than he’d been ever since Leopold appeared in his home). He grunted loudly, then spat once again on Moshe’s face. He stomped angrily back to the bed and bent over it.
It was both obvious what he wanted and obvious that he didn’t want it at all. Leopold was in position to get it up the ass, that was clear. He bent face-first over the bed and stuck his ass in the air. He spread his asscheeks.
But he was obviously, blatantly and drastically too tall for Moshe to ram him in that position. His ass was well above Moshe’s head. Moshe stood there like an idiot, looking up at Leopold’s ass and dangling cock and balls.
“Whatchoo doin’ back there?!” Leopold barked. He turned his head and realized that Moshe couldn’t reach his ass. “Oh yeah,” Leopold said with a dry chuckle, “I forgot you was a fuckin’ weak-ass midgetty Jew.” He lowered his ass, dropping his hips and resting on his knees, his entire upper body splayed over the bed. He sneered at Moshe.
Moshe stood there with his dick behind Leopold’s ass, too terrified to actually insert it.
“I hate limp-wristed Jews like you,” he said. He spat towards Moshe again, but this time his head was too far away. He ended up just spitting on the bed.
Then before Moshe could respond, Leopold jutted his hips backward. He grabbed Moshe’s dick to keep it in place as he backed his ass onto it. Then he let go and gripped the bedspread, letting out a long, slow howl of pain. His giant body shook and vibrated.
Moshe gasped. He once again leaned back, unwilling to touch Leopold in any way that Leopold didn’t initiate. But as Leopold ground his ass and lowered his head, it was apparent that he needed a pair of hands to guide him. Moshe tentatively grabbed the man’s wide fleshy asscheeks, trembling at the feel of their vibrating thickness. His fingers dug into a tattooed invitation for Asian people to swallow Tower’s farts. He closed his eyes, certain that that would be it, that Leopold was going to attack him.
But he didn’t. He kept working his hips back and forth, even as he continued to grumble about blacks and Jews. It sounded like he was in too much pain to speak clearly, but that didn’t stop him from spitting invective at Moshe.
“Fuck you, you little squealing piggie. If we was in prison right now, I’d pimp you out to the mud-people,” he said. He hung his head low, cradling it in his biceps as he struggled to accept Moshe’s dick. His other hand crept lower and stroked himself off.
As Moshe began plowing harder and harder, he realized that Leopold wasn’t getting upset about him touching his ass. So he kneaded those jiggling orbs of tattooed flesh, then let his hands roam upwards, massaging Leopold’s rippling back muscles.
“You really don’t buy into that nazi stuff?” Moshe asked.
“Not at all,” Leopold said. “I just like making money. Ha! I bet you know about that, Jew. If your people bought more meth than the nazis, I’d have a fucking yarmulke tattooed on my face.”
“Really?”
“Well… Probably not that specifically,” he said, wincing but covering up the pain with a firm jaw. “Aren’t tattoos forbidden? But anyway, I’d be Jewish. You wanna taste my cum, Jew?”
“Uh…-“
“I thought so,” he said. Then he threw his head back and moaned. His asshole clenched, sending Moshe over the line into the throes of the most intense orgasm of his life. He gasped as Leopold lifted his upper body, so he was kneeling now, next to the bed, head upright.
Leopold’s muscles all flexed at once. Moshe clutched his thick torso, face planted in the meaty swastika tattooed over the center of his back. It was all Moshe could see as his climax erupted deep within him. Their size difference made ramming difficult when Leopold had been bent over, but now that he kneeled, it was impossibly awkward. Moshe had to clutch him like a tree trunk he was trying to shimmy up, in order to keep his spasming dick inside Leopold’s tattooed ass.
Cum sprayed within Leopold, who groaned and grunted as his hole tightened hard around Moshe’s dick. Sweat dripped down his German-tattooed skin, its salty flavor overwhelming Moshe’s senses. He had never experienced anything as intense as the feeling of cum pouring into Leopold’s tight fat ass. His body undulated beneath Moshe’s tiny delicate fingers.
A loud smacking sound could be heard — Moshe was so overcome by passion that he didn’t process it right away. Then pain exploded in his face, followed by a surge of salty cum flavor: Leopold had slapped him hard, with a hand covered in nazi cum. He smeared that wad of semen all over Moshe’s face, and pushed him to the ground. He stood over Moshe with his dick in hand.
His phone rang. Leopold grabbed it from his pile of clothes. He sneered at Moshe and used one toe to rub the cum around on Moshe’s face. “Yo,” he said into the phone. “Yeah. I’m still in there. The Jew was complainin’ like a whiny little Jew, so I had to pop him one. He ain’t got much money, for a Jew. But he got a bit. I took a shit on his pillow. He’s tied up in the bathroom now. Fuck you, man, I’m sending a message to fuckin’ Israel. The message is ‘eat shit, Jews’. What’re you in a hurry for? You got a hot date with some Jew? Ha, yeah, okay. I’ll be out in a minute.”
He quickly threw his clothes back on. When Moshe moved to do the same, Leopold glared at him. He didn’t need to say anything to know that wasn’t allowed. Moshe remained there on his knees, cum drying on his face.
“You can clean yo’self up in eleven minutes,” Leopold said. He set the alarm clock by Moshe’s bedside. “You sit there wit’ my cum on your face until then, Jew. You nasty-ass Jew. Get forgiveness, and find Christ.”
“Okay-“
“Shut up. And when you call the cops, you tell them it was a black guy, okay? If you tell them it was a black guy, I’ll come back. I’ll teach you a lesson about Jewry you never forget. Got it?” He raised his eyebrows like he was asking whether Moshe understood what he was really offering — to keep coming back and getting wrecked by him at night, so long as Moshe didn’t tell the cops who it was.
“Oh, uh… okay.”
“Good. Now sit there and think about how nasty you is,” Leopold said. He hefted Moshe’s belongings in a sac and headed out the door.
Moshe sighed and leaned back. He wasn’t going to stay in this spot for eleven minutes, but he saw now reason to clean off his face. He wanted to bask in the smells and sensations of Leopold’s cum on his face, and he wanted that to last as long as possible.

The Burglar

Desmond is helping out a white burglar when he gets roped into robbing a house, which goes in a direction Desmond never expected! That’s cuz he’s not as charmed by the manipulative Josh Winters as he seems, and when push comes to shove, he demands a taste of Josh’s alpha male meat. Can Josh give it up?

Read it soon as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Desmond was glad he had gone through with the plan, but at the same time, he still wasn’t sure if it was going to work. There were a couple ways it could go wrong, ranging from disappointing to catastrophic. There were not a lot of ways for it to go right.
It was a cool December night in Sacramento, and Desmond was robbing a house. Desmond hadn’t come up with the plan, that was Josh. Desmond didn’t really want or need to rob any house.
He was here because he was desperate for Josh’s dick.
Josh Winters was a tall, ropy-muscled young man with a scruffy beard and a troublesome limp, supposedly from the time he “got shot running from the po-po”. He had variously told Desmond he was a Puerto Rican Boricua, a “mostly full-blooded” Arapaho Indian and a Sicilian mafioso’s son. Oh, and once, he said he was the former star of the Ecuadorian national soccer team. He was swarthy, seemingly white but not conclusively so, with a big mess of black hair and an unshaved chin, giving him a scraggly goattee like a pot-smoking goat.
Or possibly something stronger than pot. Josh said he didn’t do hard drugs, but Desmond was dubious.
The one thing Desmond knew for sure was that he shouldn’t trust anything Josh said. It had been clear that he didn’t even keep track of his lies, he kept changing his story because Desmond never called him on it and Josh never remembered that he had already lied about his race (which Desmond suspected was ‘plain-old somewhat-swarthy white-guy’).
So Desmond didn’t believe it when Josh had said that tonight was not about robbing houses. He said, “Don’t worry, dude, we’re not gonna rob no houses on Christmas Eve. I ain’t like that.”
Desmond just shrugged went along with it. He didn’t care, he felt bad about becoming a home-robber (or at least an accessory to home-robbing). But he would have agreed to anything because he was entranced by Josh’s deep, soulful brown eyes and that marvelous head of hair. It was dense and black and unkempt, shaggy, haphazardly cut and just the right amount of greasy. Desmond wanted to run his fingers through Josh’s hair.
Besides that, Desmond didn’t plan on actually stealing anything.
And so that was why Desmond was going along with it regardless of his qualms. He had been craving a taste of Josh’s meat since the moment they met.
The homeowner was in Michigan for Christmas anyway, so it was safe, or safe enough for Desmond.
“C’mon, man,” Josh said. He tousled Desmond’s hair and grinned. “Boost me up.” He definitely knew Desmond had feelings on him and was using it to manipulate him, Desmond thought, which felt creepy but also triumphant because Desmond was flipping that knowledge right back around to manipulate Josh. Desmond was gonna get a taste of that man’s dick and he was gonna avoid doing anything morally venal.
Or at least, that was the plan. But a lot could go wrong with it.
They were on the deck behind the house. The railing was high enough that, when Desmond climbed on top of it and then Josh climbed atop his shoulders, he could reach the roof. Desmond wouldn’t have agreed, but Josh had such a charming grin, and anyway, Desmond liked the idea of Josh pawing all over him as he climbed onto the roof.
Josh seemed to be taking every opportunity to touch Desmond — that was a serious attempt to manipulate him into helping tonight. It was working too. Desmond could see how Josh had gained that reputation: He had manipulated several young men into being accessories to serious crimes and then gave them up to get out of trouble himself.
So Desmond knew he was playing with fire.
“Are you gonna be able to get up there?” Desmond asked. The railing was narrow and tottery. It really felt impossible. Josh seemed to know what he was doing, but now Desmond was unsure. This could be dangerous.
Josh scoffed. “Man, you know, they used to call me Leopard, in my old ‘hood. Cuz I was such a climber and shit, y’know, I bet I could shimmy up that chimney. I’m just doin’ this cuz it’s easier.”
“Oh, wow…” Desmond hoped he sounded gullible enough. He very much doubted that Josh could shimmy up the chimney, and he doubted anyone ever called him Leopard. That was the kind of nickname people make up about themselves but don’t accept about others. Nobody should like their nicknames.
But Desmond didn’t mind the lies if it got him what he wanted: Josh’s toned twenty year-old thug body. Josh straightened the backwards baseball cap he wore as he climbed onto the railing and, nervously, onto Desmond’s hands, then up to his shoulders.
Desmond was just about to tell him to stop, that this wasn’t working, when Josh got the edge of the gutter and scampered up. It was graceless and he nearly fell a few times. It was obvious he had never done it before. But when he got up there he scoffed. “Told ya, man. Like a leopard.” He extended one hand and pulled Desmond up onto the roof too.
It was cold up here, and windy. Desmond walked with him to the chimney. Josh’s ass filled out his low-hanging jeans nicely, and Desmond found it difficult to tear his eyes away from those perky round cheeks.
“Man, I swear, I once forgot to check the chimney befo’ I climbed in, and yo, you best believe I got stuck in there. Thought I was gonna die for sure, man, fo’ real,” he said. “So I learned you gotta check it first.” He tossed a pebble into the chimney and grinned when it audibly landed all the way on the floor. “Alright, see, this is a good chimney. Let’s get in there, man.”
Desmond wasn’t claustrophobic, but even he found the idea of going in through a chimney a bit scary. He thought for sure Josh would back out and agree to just break a window (why not? This house was isolated enough the neighbors wouldn’t hear, but Josh insisted on the chimney). Luckily Josh went in first.
He slipped in feet first and landed with a loud oomph. He toppled forward out of the fireplace. Clouds of ash flew everywhere and coated the living room.
“Come on, man, jump on down,” Josh called out to him amid his loud coughing. The coughs turned into aggressive hacks, which was way too loud. It would have been quieter to shatter a window, Desmond thought. Going in through the chimney was a dumbass plan.
Desmond took a deep breath and did it. He had been expecting tons of time to feel claustrophobic, but of course it actually only took a fraction of a second to fall. The only difficult part was the cloud of ash that coated his face, lungs and eyes. He coughed violently for several minutes before recovering.
By then, Josh was already ransacking the house, running through the living room and kitchen, opening cabinets and doors in search of valuables. He cursed as he did. “Man, there ain’t shit here. Get to lootin’, man, while the lootin’ is good!”
Desmond already knew that there were no worthwhile things here to steal. All the valuables were gone from this house. Josh collected a few dishes he thought looked fancy — they weren’t, he just assumed any dish was probably worth money if it wasn’t made of plastic or paper and didn’t have any logos or fictional characters on it. He found some ordinary ceramic plates with blue flowers on the rim and a gravy boat with French words on it (French, he thought, was classy, so anything with French on it was probably worth something).
Now that he was in, Desmond was less nervous. He could still get caught, of course, but he had gotten through the hardest part. He watched Josh run around the house, cursing at the lack of pawn-able goods. “Man, fuck this place! They ain’t even got a nice TV! No X-Box!”
“How’s the upstairs?” Desmond asked, following slowly after him.
Josh sucked on his teeth, hurrying away from Desmond but calling out to him the whole time. “This place is fucked, dude. They must-a took everything with ’em, man, that sucks! I ain’t found shit!”
“Oh, that’s too bad…” Desmond said. He found Josh throwing clothes out of the dresser in the master bedroom. He had a bottle of loose change in his arms — maybe fifteen dollars worth — that he had found in the closet. He was hoping to find more hidden in the dresser drawers.
“That pisses me off!” Josh shouted. His face grew ruddy, and Desmond got nervous. Had he miscalculated? Josh punched the wall hard enough to make a hole, and he dropped the jar of change. It shattered, coins flying across the carpet. “I oughta fuckin’ slit their goddamn throats!”
Well damn, Desmond thought, that was an escalation.
“Hey, I found something good downstairs,” Desmond said, chewing on his lip as he came closer to Josh Winters. He decided to move his plan forward. He dropped to his knees and scooted to kneel right in front of Josh.
“What? What was it? Lemme see, I’ll tell you if it’s worth anything,” Josh said. He frowned in confusion at Desmond kneeling in front of him. “I got that ‘ppraising shit down. You know that? ‘ppraising?” It was apparent Josh had just learned the word appraising, thought it was obscure and didn’t quite know how to pronounce it.
Now that he was closer, Desmond grinned up at Josh. “I’ll show you what I found downstairs if you let me do something.”
Josh looked at him warily. “Like what?”
“Let me taste your dick,” Desmond said. “Let me jack you off.” He grabbed for the waist of Josh’s jeans.
“What, really?”
Desmond nodded. Josh shifted his weight between his feet and cleared his throat. Desmond said, “Yeah, really. I can swallow you to the root. I can swallow anything,” he said.
When Josh sighed as though this was a huge imposition, Desmond unzipped his pants and let them fall to his knees. A thick uncut cock popped out, which Josh rearranged to more completely come out of the fly of his boxers, because at first it didn’t look very long, concealed by the fabric. Then he snorted like he didn’t care about Desmond looking at his dick. He swayed his hips, making his cock slap Desmond in the cheek.
“Man, you know you gotta pay me if you wanna take a swing on my dick,” Josh said with exaggerated reluctance. It was very obvious that he was going to say yes and just wanted to negotiate a good price. He looked around as though there might be an audience.
But there was no one to impress.
“Please…” Desmond smacked his lips, and he gingerly handled Josh’s dick. It was sweaty and clammy, and it twitched in Desmond’s grip. Josh must be horny, he thought.
“I ain’t into that shit. You better offer good money.” Josh looked down at his dick in Desmond’s hand as though he didn’t get how it ended up there.
Desmond shrugged. He stood up and straightened his shirt. “Oh, well, I guess I’ll just keep that thing I found downstairs.”
“What was it?”
Desmond got up stretched his legs. He yawned. “It doesn’t matter, it’s mine and I’ll only have it for awhile, until I make it to the pawnshop tomorrow. If you’re done, let’s go.” He took a few steps as though going to leave. He walked away from Josh Winters’s, who stood there with his cock protruding, waiting to be serviced.
“Man, what is it! What’d you find? I searched the whole main floor.” He scowled, his charming face gone. He wasn’t used to people telling him no.
“Let me taste your dick.” Desmond crossed his arms over his chest.
Josh’s cock was still out, dangling between his legs, in front of his fashionably saggy jeans. His square jaw worked up and down like he was chewing on his tongue. He was just slightly scruffy, the beard hairs extending down under the fabric of his shirt. Josh scoffed and clucked his tongue. “Man… How much is it worth?”
“It’s worth precisely one session of me tasting your dick. Taxes and fees may apply.”
“No, I mean the thing you found, how much is it worth in dollars!”
“I won’t know until I make it to the pawnshop. Until then, it’s an unknowable mystery,” Desmond said. “There are several economic theories of value, Josh. For example, Karl Marx promoted the labor theory of value, in which the price of an object is determined by the labor that went into it.” Desmond smiled at Josh’s furrowed brow. “So by that measure, this item is by definition worth the amount of work you’re willing to put in for it.” He shrugged. “Or maybe it’s worth less than that, and I’ll see what theory of value they prefer at the pawnshop.”
“Man, fuck you!” Josh threw his hands in the air. His dick jiggled and swayed. “Man, you owe me! I let you in on this job!”
“This job ain’t worth jack-shit!”
Josh shuffled out of the room, scoffing, rolling his eyes, his dick still out through the fly of his boxers, but his jeans were around his ankles. He didn’t seem to notice his veiny shaft bouncing with every step he took — he had a very animated gait right now because he was upset. He punched another hole in the wall. “Fuck you!”
“You wouldn’t even have found this place if it wasn’t for me,” Desmond said. He followed Josh into the hall.
“This place ain’t worth jack-shit!” Josh said. “C’mon, you gotta give it to me. What is it?” He turned around and came closer to Desmond. He reached into Desmond’s pockets and emptied them. Desmond just giggled as though Josh was flirting with him. Josh let go. “Man…”
“I didn’t put it in my pocket because I knew you would search me to steal it. And it’s not something that fits comfortably in a pocket. Just let me taste your dick. And stick me, you gotta stick it in my ass too,” Desmond said.
“Man… That ain’t what you said before. And that’s gross. I don’t even do that in prison.”
“The price keeps going up, Josh. Inflation,” Desmond said. “So I suggest you agree now.” He casually walked towards the stairs. “I think I’m about ready to head home and hit the hay. I wanna be well-rested for my trip to the pawnshop tomorrow.”
“Man… ain’t there someone else…? I could get you Jake? He’ll let anyone swing on his dick, even this old fat lady with saggy-“
“That’s cuz Jake is fat and smells like cheese,” Desmond said. “I want you. No substitutions, unless you have access to 1980s-era Tom Cruise.” He paused. “Just so you know, I can swallow your whole cock, and I have an ass like that fat slut you hang out with wouldn’t believe.”
“She ain’t fat.”
“Well she sure as shit ain’t skinny.”
“And she ain’t a slut-“
“Josh, I know very well you’ll fuck any chick who picks up the bullshit you plop in front of them,” Desmond said. “I’m willing to pick that bullshit up myself, but I’m not going to pretend it’s a rhododendron.”
Josh’s harsh, judgmental eyes glared at Desmond. Finally he spat vituperously, “what’s a fucking rhododendron?”
“It’s a flower, Josh. There’s one in the front yard.” Desmond sunk to his knees. “You can just say yes, I know you’re going to do it.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because you lie like a dead cat, Josh, and you can just lie about this. You can tell people it didn’t happen,” Desmond said. “And as far as you’re concerned, if no one can prove it happened, it didn’t.”
Josh’s eyes twinkled. “Fine. But this thing better be worth some cash.”
“It’s not,” Desmond said. He put the cocktip in his mouth, made eye contact with Josh’s sullen face and started licking his dick. He picked it up and let the thickness of it flop onto his face, while Desmond ran his tongue up and down the shaft. He slurped the sweat of the root.
“What?”
“I don’t want to mislead you, Josh. You’ll struggle to exchange this item for cash,” Desmond said.
“Man, I swear, I’ll kick your fucking ass if there ain’t nothing,” he said. “I swear to Christ. I swear on my mama’s grave, I swear on-“
Desmond pulled the cock out of his mouth for a moment. “First of all, you can stop listing things you’ll swear on. Secondly, I know your mother. I broke a five-dollar bill for her so she could put a dollar in a stripper’s jockstrap last weekend. She knows perfectly well you’re not a gigolo, you know. You’re not as good of a liar as you think are.”
“Man… Just shut up and get back to ya business.”
“I’m pretty sure actual gigolos don’t brag to their mom about it-“
“Shut up!”
“And they don’t get their moms to pay their health insurance either-“
“I am about to knock your fucking head off, dude!”
“It’s the Christmas spirit!”
“What?” Josh flopped his hard cock over Desmond’s face, leaving a trail of precum.
“That’s the thing I found down here, that I was going to give you when we’re done,” Desmond said. “I found the Christmas spirit. It doesn’t have a monetary value.”
“Man…”
“I’m just telling you because I bet you’re going to want to finish this, right? Because you’re desperate to blow a nut? Even though you’re not going to get anything out of it but a ‘Merry Christmas’?” Desmond giggled. “That fat chick isn’t putting out, huh? Probably because you taste like a loser.” He turned around, dropped his pants and stuck his ass in the air. “Are you gonna stick it in me? Or go home and masturbate alone?”
Josh paused, then straddled Desmond’s ass. He grabbed Desmond by the back of the neck. “Man… I’m stickin’ you cuz real gangstas don’t let theyself get blue-balled.”
“The only thing you stole tonight was that jar of loose change and you broke that,” Desmond said as Josh wedged his dick between his cheeks. “Real gangstas don’t fail to steal loose change. 7-11 gives loose change away for free-“
“Fuck you!” Josh said, drilling his cock in, moving like he was on autopilot — if Desmond hadn’t pissed him off, he would have delayed, but as it was, his mostly hard dick rammed right into Desmond’s booty. As if he had been waiting for this moment, he sighed. His anger and frustration dissipated, and he sighed. His hot breath condensed on the back of Desmond’s head.
Desmond sucked in his breath as he reached behind himself to stretch his cheeks open.
From his awkwardness at penetrating, Desmond gathered that Josh had never had anal sex with a woman before, though he had definitely purported otherwise several times. He humped desperately now, slamming his still-clothed body into Desmond over and over from every angle, making Desmond wince and squirm.
Desmond didn’t mind a little pain and discomfort. It made the pleasure even better, and he didn’t mind Josh’s personality too much either — with a dimpled handsome face like that, he could forgive a lot. He got even handsomer the more frustrated he became too. That was nice. Women wouldn’t be able to look past his personality and fuck him anyway, but on the other hand, women were less perceptive of his personality and were likely to take his charm at face value. Desmond, on the other hand, didn’t have to like or be liked by the men whose bodies he worshipped. He was fine with letting a jerk ramrod him up the ass.
“You don’t have to go easy on me,” Desmond said, giggling as that made Josh roar and smack his cheeks. His cock was moving back and forth in Desmond’s ass, each stroke of it sending spasms of pleasure to rock Desmond’s body. Desmond let out a little cringing moan, unable to avoid expressing how good this felt. “Hmm, Josh…”
“I’m not goin’ easy on you, man, shut up…” Blushing, Josh redoubled his efforts to go at Desmond’s ass hard. He was desperate to assuage his own masculinity, which he felt required him to slam so hard and so good Desmond told him to slow down. But it soon became apparent that that wasn’t going to happen.
Now that he had calmed somewhat, Josh humped passionately, and he even kissed Desmond on the cheek (because he had seen a movie in which prison thugs kiss their prison wives and it seemed like a hardcore-gangsta thing to do). The feel of his closeness behind Desmond accentuated the feelings wracking Desmond’s body, as his cock stimulated Desmond’s prostate again and again.
He grunted right into Desmond’s ear. He kissed him again, this time on the lips — out of habit — and their tongues briefly interlocked before he pulled away mid-orgasm. Cum sprayed into Desmond’s ass, great creamy gobs of it that coated his insides.
“Damn…” Josh Winters’s voice broke, and he rammed with his hips hard, making his next cumwad spurt deep into Desmond’s insides. Desmond moaned as a wave of bliss flowed through him, and his hands turned into claws that dug into the carpeted hallway underneath him.
Cum dripped down his thighs and onto the floor. Desmond shot his own wad at the same time, draining his balls into a puddle beneath him while jet after jet of juice filled up his ass, his whole body tightening up as one of the most potent orgasms of his life hit him hard. Josh kept going until most of his wad had slipped out in a frothy mess that coated Desmond’s ass and slipped out on the carpet below.
“Goddamn…” Desmond said, sighing. He pulled away from Josh, who gasped when his cock finally came out. It was soaked in his jizz, which dripped down between Desmond’s legs. Desmond giggled as he was overcome with desire, while Josh simply grunted as though he barely approved of what just happened.
Josh rolled over onto the floor on his back. His dick flopped, half-hard but rapidly limpening. Josh’s face was ruddy and calm, like he was about to go to sleep. He lay sprawled out on the floor.
Desmond sat next to him for a moment and felt up his chest muscles. Josh watched like he didn’t understand why someone would want to touch him. Desmond smiled. “Sorry there wasn’t anything to steal.”
Josh shrugged. He stood up and tucked his dick away. “Whatever. I’ll find someplace new.” He paused and cleared his throat. “So, like… you can pay me two hundred dollars whenever.”
“What?”
“I kissed you and stuck it in you, you owe me-“
“That was not what we agreed to. I agreed to give you the spirit of Christmas, so here it is. Merry Christmas.”
Josh frowned. It was obvious he was used to people who were easy to manipulate. If Desmond had been this willful when they first met, he would have never spent more time with him. there was no point if he couldn’t get anything out of him. Josh sighed. He sat up, supporting himself on his elbows, and he used his shirttails to wipe his dick clean. Desmond shook his head at that. That was not an effective way to get clean. His shirt was not absorptive, and so of course it was now stained and soaked in all the santorum that had previously clung to his cockshaft.
Desmond smiled at Josh. “But you can come over and earn two hundred dollars the old-fashioned way.” He smacked Josh’s ass. “Trust me, it’ll be better than being a burglar.”

Humiliated by a Scammer

Zion has no idea his family was targeted by a scammer who took everything they owned, and now it’s Zion’s turn to experience the ultimate in alpha male dominance! Can he submit to the superior man?

Read the it now as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

“Look here, Zion, boy, I’m gonna be real upfront wit’cha,” said Uncle Nelson. Zion had trouble concentrating on his words because Uncle Nelson was so intimidating. He was tall, broad shouldered and thick-bodied. He had a dense bristly mustache. He had come over without Zion’s grandmother — who had married Uncle Nelson just a few months ago. He had never come to Zion’s apartment above the family restaurant without her. “I came into ya grandmama’s life wit’ an ulterior motive.”
“Where is she-?”
Nelson slapped him. “Don’t you interrupt me. I put her in a home.”
“What?” Zion’s heart sank. “Where? What?”
He slapped Zion hard. “Make me say it again, nigga! Make me say it again! Shut yo’ mouth!”
Despite his huge size, Uncle Nelson had always been incredibly kind until today. Zion was much smaller and weaker, so he had been scared from the moment his grandmom brought Nelson home from church one day. He was new to the area then, and he had fallen in love with her right away. Nelson was broad and muscular, so strong it looked painful, like he must struggle to carry around all those muscles.
“Now yo’ grandmama signed this whole building over to me,” Nelson said. He paused to see if Zion would interrupt him again, but he didn’t. Zion trembled in front of him. Nelson lightly slapped his cheek again. “Listen Zion boy, you know what liquidate means? Course you don’t, you a dummy. It means when you take somethin’ that ain’t worth much and you take it apart and you use all the parts some other way. Like when a store goin’ outta business, they liquidate it. You feel me, Zion boy?”
“Yeah, man, but where’s my dad-?”
“Yo’ daddy’s in jail, but I’m comin’ to that.” He smiled. “I ain’t a nice nigga, Zion boy. I know I been actin’ nice, but I ain’t nice at all. Yo’ family was not wise to trust me.” He undid his belt and let his pants plop heavily to the floor, then he took his dick out. Zion yelped in surprise — and fear, because it was more than a foot long, veiny and dark, and it smelled vaguely of sweat and pussyjuice — and he tried to stand up, but Nelson pushed him back down. “Lemme just be real frank wit’cha. Yo grandmama married me and signed e’rything over to me. So I own yo’ family’s house and yo’ family’s store and I even own yo’ car, nigga, which by the way, you may not use.”
“You can’t do that-!”
“Already done, nigga. Yo’ daddy’s in jail cuz I tol’ him I put yo’ sister out on the street as a ho if he ain’t sign this murder confession — there was a killin’ I had weighin’ me down, nigga. Not no more,” he said. He carefully folded his pants and put them on the table next to him. Then he picked up his dick as though to display it for Zion’s benefit. He held it in one hand, and Zion was unable to look away from it. It jiggled when Nelson spoke. “Now yo’ sister was a little old to start hoin’, but I’m gonna make it work. She can make me a pretty penny.”
“Wait, what?!”
“I am liquidatin’ yo’ family, nigga. Y’all is a bunch of rank-ass pussies, and I am takin’ ya out,” he said. He thwacked his limp dick over Zion’s face. “You might wanna start lickin”, befo’ I get real mad, Zion boy.”
“My dad is in jail? He-“
But Nelson’s cock pushed into Zion’s mouth, and Nelson chuckled as Zion gagged. His dick was limp and rubbery at first, tasting of salty sweat. Tears welled up in Zion’s eyes. That fat cock rested on his tongue, and when he tried to push it off, Nelson slapped his hands away. He didn’t do anything with his dick, it just rested there, like Zion’s mouth was its new natural home.
Then Nelson swayed, making his limp dick jiggle and jump around, roping over Zion’s face. It was so thick, much thicker than Zion’s, and it smelled like a locker room in a low-cost gym. Zion’s stomach churned.
His mind kept replaying the things Nelson had said. None of that made sense, what did he mean? Zion’s sister was not a prostitute. His father was not a murderer, none of this made sense. Why was Nelson acting like this? But Zion couldn’t formulate any words because he was entranced by the rod of throbbing hot dickfat smearing Nelson’s body odor over every inch of Zion’s face.
“Ah, yeah, this is the part I love,” Nelson said. “No teeth. No hands. No regrets.” He moaned without breaking eye contact with Zion, who felt a flush of embarrassment and looked away. Nelson dug his nails into Zion’s cheeks and forced his eyes back to Nelson’s. “Lookit me when I’s plowin’ you, boy. You mine now, nigga. You should thinka yo’self as a slave, even if the law ain’t allow slaves no more.”
“But, Uncle Nelson, I-“
He laughed, forcing his cock back into Zion’s throat. It was so huge that it didn’t feel real to Zion, who had never seen a cock so big. A few drops of precum hit his tongue, and the electrifyingly salty flavor made Zion gag.
“You still callin’ me uncle, boy? I ain’t yo’ family.” He wrapped his hands around the back of Zion’s head, and began to slowly grind his dick lower and lower in Zion’s throat. “I let you be a busboy in the restaurant. I ain’t gonna pay you a damn dime, but I let ya eat scraps and shit. You may not find any of the waitresses sexy.”
Having been in shock since this began, Zion hadn’t really fought back. But as his throat heaved and his lungs cried out for oxygen, he realized he could fight. He clawed at Nelson’s muscle-bound body and squirmed. His whole body tensed up, but Zion was skinny and lanky, not solid like Nelson.
“Ah, there it is, there you go,” Nelson said. He held tightly onto Zion’s head. “You fightin’ now, huh? That’s normal, that’ll pass. I’m gonna break you, boy. See it used to be that the rule of law weren’t so strong, and weak-kneed motherfuckers like you and yo’ whole family just get took up by some strong motherfucker like me, someone who can make sure you reach yo’ maximum potential. For you…” Nelson laughed, smearing tendrils of spit over Zion’s face as he watched him choke on his massive cock. “Yo’ maximum potential is a busboy who occasionally gets to eat my asshole. Yo’ whole family was garbage, Zion boy. Yo’ granddaddy was worth a damn, but he dead now. You’d have just run this company into the ground. I’m takin’ it.”
Zion squealed and tried to crawl away, but Nelson = punched him again. Pain erupted in Zion’s side, and he collapsed onto the floor. Zion rolled onto his back. Nelson slowly lowered his hefty, broad ass right on Zion’s face. His crack was choked with dark kinky black hairs, which scratched Zion’s skin.
“Lick it up, Zion boy, get ya tongue in there.” When Zion didn’t comply right away, Nelson punched him in the belly. Zion groaned. “Get yo’ tongue inside my asshole now, bitch.”
Zion still wanted to fight, but he was so weak and skinny. His body submitted even as his mind wanted to fight back. His tongue slipped into Nelson’s asshole. The taste of man-funk flooded his senses.
It was so rank, so foul, the flavor overwhelming all of Zion’s other senses. Utter humiliation wracked his body. Only an absolute fool would let another man do this, he thought.
Nelson loudly moaned. His ass-sweat trickled into Zion’s mouth, and Zion gagged so violently his stomach hurt. Nelson sat on his face, all of his weight pressing down on Zion’s head. He was big man, and it felt like Zion’s head was going to cave in. He couldn’t focus on anything but squirming beneath Nelson’s giant body.
“Move ya tongue around some more. How’s my ass taste, boy?”
“Please… stop-” Zion had to shout to be heard through the meat of Nelson’s ass. That made Nelson laugh and pound on Zion’s belly some more.
“Nah, this is yo’ life now, Zion boy, it’s already done. Get used to it.” Nelson rubbed his asshole over Zion’s face, leaving a layer of funk. Zion’s nose dug into his asscrack from top to bottom. “From now on, e’ry time I come into my restaurant, or up here — anytime you see me, basically — I want you to lick my asshole, okay?”
“No!”
Nelson stood up and punched Zion in the belly. Zion screamed and gagged as the rush of fresh air made the assy taste on his tongue even more rancid. He writhed, but Nelson made him stay on his back. “What’d I say? You my slave, bitch. You can leave any time, but I own ya ass. I own this building and I own ya car and I own ya job and I own e’rything here in this apartment. I got ya daddy in jail and ya grandmom in care and ya sister out hoin’. I can decide to drop any one of ’em loose anytime,” he said.
Through his tears, Zion grunted. “I can… do…-“
“You can leave, wit’ nothin’. I will take the shoes off ya feet. I just might break all the bones in yo’ feet too, just to make sure you nevuh work again. You will work for me, Zion, for the rest of your life. Or I will make your whole family’s life hell. Ya feel me?”
“Y…. Yes.”
“Good. Now say ‘I will lick yo’ asshole, Nelson’.”
A sob escaped from Zion’s lips. “I… I will lick ya asshole, Nelson.” Zion’s tears were squashed by Nelson plopping down on his face again.
This time, Zion had no choice but to lap at that funky hole as tears streamed down his cheeks. The filthy, gritty feeling was almost, but not quite, enough to make him forget his sobbing. Nelson guided Zion’s hands around his body to his cock. Zion’s tongue ran up his guys and tasted his sweat, while his hands stroked from the root to the tip of Nelson’s fat throbbing dick.
“Stroke me off, boy. That’s how you do a rimjob. Tongue in deeper. Tongue deeper, boy!” He punched Zion in the belly again, and when Zion cried out, he grabbed his tongue. He pulled it out until Zion squealed. “See this? You got a good five inches of tongue here, boy. I wanna feel all five inches in my ass, or I swear to Christ I will shove my foot up your ass, and I am not playin’, I can show you the evidence I did it before.”
He nearly lifted Zion from his knees by his tongue but instead lowered his ass to meet his face, so he reached underneath himself to shove Zion’s tongue into his asshole. He did it so forcefully his own finger penetrated his own ass at the same time, while Zion sobbed into the filthy asscrack of the superior man above him.
Zion tried to look away, but each time Nelson slapped him and forced him to look him in the eye. He was so intimidating that Zion couldn’t think of any plan besides squirming and begging whenever he could catch a breath. Nelson’s burly mustache shook as he sneered.
“You are one pitiful li’l bitch. You a sissy?” He raised his eyebrows and looked down at them.
“No! No, come on!”
“You should be
The fact that Nelson was not a thug made him scarier to Zion. He looked like a church deacon — he was, in fact, a church deacon — and he spoke like a Hollywood hero (or villain). He had a slightly stawk-heavy East Coast accent, sounding like he was from maybe Philadelphia or someplace like that. New Jersey, maybe. His words rang out like a prophecy in Zion’s ears.
Zion felt filthy and worthless. Zion sobbed in Nelson’s plump ass, while Nelson rubbed his hole over Zion’s tongue like a dog with infected anal glands. Every time Zion’s tongue stopped moving for even a second, Nelson hit him or pinched him hard until Zion resumed lapping at his grimy prostate.
Nelson let out a long, low whistle. His cock throbbed in Zion’s hands. “Hell yeah, there ya go. Fuck yeah. You got it. This is how you do a rimjob, Zion. All of ya tongue in there, hands on my dick… You gonna make me nut, boy, I swear… I was gonna wreck ya asshole today, but maybe I wait.”
A fluid hit Zion’s tongue. It was rancid and sour, and it tasted like farts, but Zion was pretty sure it was spit, cuz Nelson was spitting on his face, it seemed. Through his sobs and retches, Zion heard him calmly hocking up loogey after loogey. Zion squirmed, sobbing in pain and disgust. Nelson punched him in the belly over and over again.
“Keep ya tongue up in there, boy, and move it around some,” Nelson said. He groaned. “Yeah, nigga… Hell yeah…” His muscles all flexed at once, and a hot spray of cum shot over his flat belly. He shot a huge flow that seemed to go on for minutes, real honest-to-god minutes of continuous flow, coating his muscular chest in a sheen of jizz, which immediately ran down to his balls and his taint and then at last onto Zion’s tongue in his ass.
Zion was only barely aware of his own hands on Nelson’s dick. He didn’t really move them, he just held on, while Nelson ground his ass over Zion’s face, the movement making Zion give him a handjob as he licked his asshole. It must have felt good, the handjob or maybe the tongue, because Nelson let out a long simmering murmur that rattled the walls of Zion’s apartment.
A loud gag escaped from Zion’s throat, the sound swallowed by Nelson’s hefty body. Zion cringed as sticky fluids ran down his throat, coating his tongue. He thought for sure he’d never make that taste go away.
“Yeah, nigga… Ah shit, I am gonna like keepin’ you ’round as a rimjob-bitch. Get used to this,” he said with another whistle. He rubbed his butt over Zion’s face, sending fresh new waves of disgusting flavor onto Zion’s tongue. “Keep ya tongue out, boy.”
He grabbed Zion’s tongue as he lifted himself up. Zion yelped because Nelson really squeezed on his tongue with his fingers. Then Nelson kneeled next to Zion, put his nose right in front of Zion’s tongue and inhaled deeply.
“You smell like pure submission, bitch.” He hocked up another big loogie and spat it onto Zion’s tongue. It was grimy and sour, and Zion squirmed all over again. Drool spilled out of his mouth as he gagged over and over. Nelson had a disgusted sneer on his face, holding Zion by the tongue. He spat again and again.
Then he pointed to the cum he had sprayed over his own chest and flat stomach. It looked like a huge load, great puddles of it that ran in rivulets down his chest. It was so thick, like sour cream, it made Zion’s own jizz seem watery and pitiful. He had spurted a huge load, and a few drops continued plopping out one by one into Nelson’s crotch hair. “Lick my cum off me. I’m gonna make ya tongue so nasty you wanna cut it off.” He licked his lips, as he pulled Zion’s face over the puddles of jizz that coated his pectoral muscles.
Keeping a grip on Zion’s tongue while he rubbed it over his chest was difficult and awkward for Nelson because he was so much bigger than Zion. He had to scrunch in to make it work. But he didn’t let Zion control his own tongue — despite telling him to lick, Nelson didn’t allow it, he instead used Zion’s tongue like a rag to clean the cum off his chest.
The salty bitterness of cum cut through Zion’s pain and humiliation, making him sob all over again. Licking his chest reminded Zion how much stronger Nelson was than him. He felt like a warm marble statue. Zion didn’t want to caress his shoulder muscles like a girl being seduced, but his hands flailed and that’s what they did, embarrassing him even further.
“Now sit there. Look me in the eye.” Nelson pointed to a spot on the floor. “Don’t get up, don’t wipe your face off. You may swallow the nastiness on your tongue. If you spit, I will beat you. I wanna watch you swallow that. I wanna see it go down yo’ throat, cuz that’ll be you agreein’ to be my rimjob-bitch-slave. That’s yo’ willing agreement.” He held onto Zion’s throat with one of his massive hands.
Zion didn’t want to swallow. Every part of him rebelled against the concept.
But he knew Nelson wasn’t kidding about beating him if he spit, so he tried to hold the soup of filth in his mouth. Its creamy thickness sloshed around, viscous, and he imagined he could feel Nelson’s sperms swimming around on his gums and his tongue. That was ridiculous, right? You can’t feel sperm.
But it sure seemed like he could. He sobbed, and he felt the tears running down his cheeks. He felt that for sure. Just like he felt the sperm swimming, looking for something to impregnate on his tongue.
A moist sniffle came outta his nose, and Nelson looked down him like a pititful pile of dogshit. Zion wanted to come up with a plan, to gin up the courage to attack Nelson, or at least to call the police when he left. None of those options sounded optionable though. Nelson was a gangster, that was clear now, and looking back on it, maybe Zion should have always known that was true. It did seem weird that a man like that would marry his grandmother.
But old people were weird, Zion couldn’t understand why they did what they did.
And now it was too late anyway. He couldn’t go to the police, Nelson would punish him. All he could do was submit. He couldn’t avoid his instinct to swallow though, and he gagged violently as it went down his throat. He imagined he could feel Nelson’s sperm swimming in his belly.
Nelson spat on him again. “Don’t move from that spot. Don’t wipe ya face off, not until I walk out the door.”
He began to very slowly get dressed. His slacks were wrinkleless, perfectly flat — ironed, obviously — because he had folded them when he took them off. His shoes were fine leather too. Halfway through, as he pulled up his pants, he stopped, turned around and farted right in front of Zion’s face. The stench of spit-flavored fart hit Zion’s nostrils and he gagged. He wept continuously.
“If you do what I say, Zion boy, everything’ll be fine.” He went into Zion’s kitchen. “You got enough food in here to last a couple weeks. You tell me when you run out, I’ll give you more.”
Zion cried, sitting there. Nelson didn’t let him move yet, so he had to sit there with a mask of cum, spit and assjuice on his face. Nelson took some stuff out of his kitchen and placed it by the door. It was all the nice things, the meat from the freezer, a fancy bottle of olive oil, that kind of thing, plus a stack of fine china. He carefully arranged it all in a pile he could carry in one hand.
“I’m takin’ some of ya shit. You ain’t worth none of this, boy. Don’t worry, I ain’t gonna let ya starve to death. You know how to cook beans, right?”
“Yeah.” Zion croaked. He gurgled and gagged all over again. Nelson chuckled.
“Good. Beans is cheap, I gonna give you mostly beans and rice.” Nelson walked past where Zion sat. He undid his belt, plopped his plump asscheeks in front of Zion again and farted on his face. He wrinkled his nose. “You is one worthless piece of shit, man, you know that?”
“Yes.” Zion’s voice had never felt so weak and wavery. He felt nothing but submission towards this man, who’d ruined his life and even despite that, Zion was going to do everything he said. He was like a God to Zion.
“Did you like eatin’ my ass?” He paused, then, just as Zion was about to answer, he snapped, “Say yes, bitch, or I’ll throw you out the window.”
Zion hesitated. “Yes.” When Nelson motioned for him to stretch that out, he winced and moaned. Nelson slapped him. Zion cringed. “I… I enjoyed eating your ass.”
Nelson’s phone rang. He looked at it, and his mustache wriggled. “It’s one of my bitches.” He answered it. “Hey, baby. Yeah. I be ovuh later. Uh-huh. Yeah cook me up somethin’. That sounds good. I’s just doin’ a little work.” He chuckled. He glanced at Zion. “Ain’t that kinda work. You ain’t gotta lick my doodoo-hole tonight though, baby, on ‘ccount of what I’s doin’ at work.” He laughed. “Nah, it ain’t a girl. This nigga displeased me. Nah, don’t worry, my princess, you ain’t gotta be jealous. Oh yeah? Oh shit… Alright, alright.” He looked at Zion. “Go sit in the bathtub, nigga.”
Zion retched as he got up, but Nelson kicked him in the belly.
“Crawl! When you in fronta me, bitch, you crawl!” Nelson chuckled into the phone. “Yeah, he my slave. Yeah, sure. He come clean ya house e’ry weekend.” He licked his lips. “Damn, baby, you got a evil side. I like that.” He knocked Zion over with his foot, then kicked him in the belly until Zion gasped and cried out. He heard a cruel female voice laughing through the phone. “Get in there, bitch!”
Nelson allowed him to crawl on his hands and knees into the bathroom. Zion was too exhausted and scared to fight back, or even to think about what was going on.
“Yeah, baby. You can do whatever you want to him. I’m-a do it now, I gotta put the video on.” He started recording. He took his dick out through the fly of his pants. “Open up ya mouth, boy, and start singing ‘I’m a Little Teapot’.”
The girl laughed hysterically as Zion tried to sing through his tears, and the sound of her guffaws carried tinnily from the phone in Nelson’s hand. The melody of the song was interrupted by hot, bitter piss flowing over his face, so it ended up just being the sound of him choking to the tune of the woman’s laughter. Zion sobbed and gagged, his stomach twisting in knots when urine streamed down his throat.
He pissed so much there was a little puddle around Zion’s bare ass on the floor of the bathtub. He cried and cried as Nelson put his dick away.
“Uncle Nelson… Please-“
“You still callin’ me uncle?” Nelson gathered up everything else in the apartment that he wanted — or that he judged to be too nice for a slave to have. He got it all up in a couple boxes, which he carted out to his Mercedes one by one. Before he left, Nelson stood over Zion and glared down at him. That mask of filth was still on his face, and Zion trembled, unable to think about anything but his desperate desire to be free of it.
Without another word, Nelson pursed his lips, hocked up a massive loogey and spat it out onto Zion’s face. It splatted and covered him in stinking saliva from his forehead to his nose, and it coated his eyes too, so it was in everything he saw.
Then, at last, Nelson turned around and walked out the door. Zion was relieved to be able to clean his face off and cry, alone.

The Plumber

Rob hires a plumber with a body to die for and an ex-wife he can’t stand. Luckily Rob is there to help him out with a soft touch, an open mouth and a willing ass!
Can Rob get his plumbing fixed at last?

Read it now as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

Rob had never seen a pleasant plumber. They were always fat and gross in his experience, like a sour frog mated with a rejected hog. So when Dino showed up, his knees went weak. Rob stood there at the front door, quaking like a child.
Dino was a tall, broad-shouldered man, with swarthy skin betraying his Greek heritage, though his accent had the baritone stawk of an American man. He had a dense mop of curly black hair that extended in an unruly mess all the way to his shoulders, not that he had a long hairstyle — he had a short hairstyle that was overgrown enough to cover his nape. He wore a tight wifebeater, much too small for his expansive frame, and a thick layer of curly black hair extruded from beneath it.
He had a surly look about him. A lot of people would have seen him as rude — quite accurately — but Rob didn’t care. Rudeness didn’t bother Rob. Meanness did. Some people had forgotten there was a difference. Rob thought that difference was the most important fact that was largely unknown and unspoken of.
It was a simple job, and it only took a few hours. Rob went away to surf the web. It was difficult to distract himself, and he kept getting hard thinking about Dino there under the sink. Dino was sprawled out, head in the under-sink cabinet, long thick legs stretched across the kitchen floor.
“What?” Dino’s angry voice spat out. It was deep and resonant.
Rob was flush with fear. Had he angered Dino? Had he offended him? He wasn’t even in the same room. He cautiously crept into the kitchen.
“I told you about that.” Dino said. His fingers gripped the cell phone tight as he held it to his ear, rolling out from the undersink cabinet. The wide nostrils of his fat nose flared. His shoulder muscles rippled beneath the wifebeater that was now sweaty and marked with grease. He stood up and paced in the kitchen. “I told you — baby, look, I said I’d pay for it, right? So — so just fuckin’ wait for it! Don’t tell me not to curse at you, you’ve been cursing at me since the moment I answered the phone! Well fuck you, I told you about that and you dumped me, so it’s none of your business, you fat stupid cow!”
He hung up the phone and nearly slammed it on the counter but stopped himself at the last moment. He tossed it into his toolbox instead, then he roared and shadowboxed the air, his face ruddy and his hands tightened into fists.
“Sorry about that,” he said. “That was my bitch ex-wife. She’s such a fucking whore. You know she’s makin’ me pay for my daughter’s makeup? I don’t even think she should be wearing makeup yet, she’s only thirteen. I said no. I threw it all away into the garbage. But I don’t get a say, I just have to pay for it.” His face was red and he paced in Rob’s tiny kitchen. He stopped and looked at Rob. “Sorry. She’s just… She’s being a bitch. Wants me to cough up two hundred bucks out of the blue. Like I’m fuckin’ made of money.”
“I know how you can make two hundred bucks,” Rob said with a flirtatious grin, which he hoped looked nonchalant. “Not plumbing. I mean, in addition to the plumbing.” Rob reached out to pat Dino on the belly through his wifebeater. He had so much body hair there Rob didn’t feel the firmness of his flesh, just the tangle of body hair beneath the fabric of his shirt. Dino showed no reaction. Rob said, “And if you do it the way I tell you, I’ll give you five hundred.”
He cocked his head to the side. “Do what?”
“I’ll give you a hint,” Rob said. He blushed and grabbed for the loose waistband of Dino’s jeans. He tickled the rim of his boxers, and Dino’s eyes opened wide. His muscles all tensed. “It’s long, I’m pretty sure, and thick, and it’s probably a light brown, and I’ll make it feel very good-“
“You, uh…” Dino paused. “You tryin’…?” He looked away and bit his lip.
“Yes. Exactly. I’m not big and tough like you, and I’ve read that playing with the dick of a bigger man can make me stronger. I’ll make you forget that bitch ex-wife,” Rob said. “I just want you to help me embarrass my own embarrassing former family. My dad. He’s disowned me, I like to call him sometimes and let some guy he’d think is white trash make it clear he’s made me his bitch.”
Dino blushed and laughed nervously. He covered his mouth with his face. He grabbed his crotch with his other hand. “Let’s, uh, be clear,” he said. His eyes flashed menacingly. “I ain’t gonna touch your dick. You don’t get up in my ass or nothing. I will rip yo’ face off if you even think about it.”
“No, no, nothing like that. I’ll swallow your dick. You stick me in the ass. You make a lotta noise when I call my stepdad,” Rob said with a shrug.
Dino paused. He caressed his own chest, his muscles rippling as he looked away from Rob — he found eye contact very intense and uncomfortable right now. He sighed like he was going to say yes, but then he stopped and reconsidered. He opened his mouth. He laughed again. “Aw, fuck, it’s for my daughter…”
“A noble cause,” Rob said. He gently touched Dino’s meaty but flat belly, through his wifebeater. Then he pushed one of his fingers beneath the fabric, tracing a trail through the sweaty hair there. His chest muscles rippled when Rob came into contact with them.
“You, uh, want me to take a shower first?” He asked. He raised one arm and sniffed at the pit. “I stink-“
“No!” Rob blushed and rammed his head into Dino’s hairy armpit. He suckled on the coarse, sweat-slickened hairs there, which made Dino chuckle. Normally Dino was ticklish there, but he was too shocked to react that way. He was used to people treating his sweaty, hairy body as gross — as impressive, given his muscles, but still foul-smelling and unpleasant no matter how much he washed. Dino was used to it by now, so he found it weird and off-putting to have someone actually worshiping every inch of his raunchy flesh.
“Damn, you are nasty,” Dino said with a bass chuckle, which Rob heard through the thickness of Dino’s chest.
Rob licked the flesh of Dino’s chest. He licked over Dino’s hairy pecs, lapping at the kinky hairs and sucking up all the sweat. Dino’s muscles rippled as he tensed up. He had never had a girl who was really, genuinely into his muscles and hairy body — they occasionally thought he was handsome enough, but they would have preferred he was smaller and smoother.
But Dino couldn’t do anything about that. He had been beat up too much as a kid to be willing to slim down, and anyway he was a big boy by nature. He put on muscle-weight easily, so he worked out a lot. At first he had only worked out because he wanted to look good for when he picked up chicks. He had simply overshot his goal, and he refused to change his trajectory, so he just kept getting bigger and bigger and less and less appealing to women.
He felt self-conscious and vulnerable when Rob undid his belt and dropped Dino’s heavy workpants. His cock and balls dangled. His dick had never been so limp, and he wasn’t even sure he’d be able to get hard. Finally he had the bright idea to bring up some medical-supply catalogue models on his cell phone. Hot chicks dressed as nurses usually got him going. It was close enough to pornography, if you know the right sites to look at.
Rob saw Dino take out his phone and mumble to himself as he looked up some chicks. Rob didn’t mind, he was used to servicing big alphas in need of women to get fully hard. He inhaled deeply of Dino’s musk, then swallowed his dick to the root. It was limp and soft, but as soon as it touched Rob’s tongue, it twitched.
It pulsated in Rob’s mouth. He could tell when Dino found a pic he was really into because his dick jumped and hardened. It went from soft to erect as stonehenge in seconds, and Dino groaned over Rob’s head. He began pumping his hips back and forth, gently at first but with more force with each thrust of his hips. His swollen cock rubbed on Rob’s tongue, while Rob’s hands gripped the hairy firmness of Dino’s thighs.
As the sour taste of precum overwhelmed Rob, he gurgled merrily. Dino tasted salty and sweet, and a little like seawater — his precum tasted like Rob imagined seawater did on a remote Greek island. It tasted sunny and warm and savory, and it made Rob’s mouth water as he savored the creaminess and the brine that assaulted his senses. He licked and lapped at that throbbing cock, while giggling at how it made Dino twist and writhe as though it hurt.
Really though Dino just contorted because it felt so good. His knees were weak. His body was overcome by pleasure wafting over him in waves. He wanted to grab ahold of Rob’s head and fuck his throat like a slut’s pussy. Dino rarely got the chance to cum in anyone’s mouth like that — mostly girls thought his body hair was gross enough that any kind of contact was a favor. Women disliked the way his chest hair, back hair, crotch hair, leg hair and armpit hair all kind bled together into a carpet of fur. Rob loved a hairy man. Dino’s ex-wife had made him lick her pussy without ever sucking his dick, and then when he complained, she called him a misogynist.
None of that bothered Rob in the slightest. He loved a hairy man.
His cock spewing prejizz into Rob’s mouth, Dino grunted. He was still on the page for that nursing catalogue when a call came. It bounced him off the website and those beautiful blonde nurses disappeared. He was angered, especially when he saw that it was his ex-wife again.
“Fuckin’ bitch,” he murmured to himself. He answered the phone, which required him to bend over and grab it from the toolbox he had put it away in. His hairy asscheeks loomed high in the air for just a moment. Then Dino snarled into the phone, “What?”
“You are such an asshole, Dino! You never told me about that slutty bitch at the club. It’s just like Tampa all over again-“
“It is not, you stupid bitch!” Dino screamed. “I did tell you about her, and I ain’t fuck her, and we ain’t together so it wouldn’t be any of ya bizness if I did! I don’t gotta tell you ‘bout this shit!”
“If you ever want to see your daughter, I have to be convinced you have a healthy living environment, Dino. You can’t be getting drunk with sluts.”
“I don’t do that when I have Lydia! You are one miserable bitch of a cock-sucking whore! How’s that accountant’s dick taste, huh?”
“Dino! I can’t deal with you when you’re like this. I oughta send my brother over there-“
“Go ahead, I’ll kick his ass again,” Dino said. “What do you want, Marina? I’m busy right now, I got a girl over.”
You’re not at work?
“She was one of my clients. She been beggin’ for my meat,” Dino said.
Yeah, right. You’re a pussy, Dino. And you’re a hairy fuck.
Dino whispered, “make some sounds like a girl.” Then he put the phone next to Rob’s mouth. Rob blushed but did as he was told. As he swallowed, he made loud gurgling sounds, taking care to ensure his voice was as feminine as could be.
Ew, god, Dino, did you just put the phone near your cock? That sounded disgusting. You’re disgusting. She sounds like a total slut. And she sounds fat.
“You’re disgusting, you stupid bitch,” Dino said. “I gotta go. I got my dick in a girl who’s worth a damn.” He hung up, glad he had gotten the final word for once. That rarely happened. He grinned down at Rob.
His dick throbbed in Rob’s mouth like getting the final word made his erection firmer. Now that Dino had gotten more comfortable with this whole thing, he went ahead and plowed into his throat hard. He wrapped his meaty palms around the back of Rob’s head. Rob paused to situate himself at the perfect angle to deep-throat Dino, who began grinding his dick into Rob’s gullet.
That must have sent a wave of sensations through Dino, who groaned and threw his head back when he felt the earliest tingling of his orgasm. He went slow, not wanting to blow his load so soon. He ground his dick into Rob’s throat, which spasmed and struggled to accept every inch of his load.
Dino had been raised Greek Orthodox, so he was overcome with guilt as he pounded. Dino had always thought masturbation was wrong. A man should save up his seed for the holiness of matrimonial passion. He really ought to start going to church, to prove he’s not a degenerate, but also because his ex could try to get him in legal trouble and a history of going to church would look good in court. Plus Dino’s mother would want be furious if she knew he wasn’t a churchgoer.
It didn’t seem like it should be sinful to Rob. He was just jacking off in a welcome, warm, wet hole — what could be sinful about that? The Bible didn’t forbid it. Rob pulled off Dino’s cock and slobbered on the tip. He smiled up at Dino.
“You’re gonna put on a show on my phone too, right? I wanna embarrass my dad,” Rob said.
Dino shrugged. “Fine, whatevuh.” His muscles rippled again as a shiver of pleasure ran up his body. Rob didn’t even stop servicing his cock when he pulled his own phone out of the pocket, and he didn’t let it pop out of his mouth as he scrolled through his contacts either. Finally, he dialed his dad.
When Rob gave him his phone, Dino was surprised — he assumed Rob would start the conversation. He didn’t know what to say to Rob’s father, and he was so overwhelmed by the pleasure snaking through his body that he didn’t know if he could come up with anything to say.
“Yo. Hey, Mr. Winthrop?” Dino asked, his voice wavering because the pleasure arising from his loins.
Yes. Who, may I ask, is calling? He sounded annoyed at being interrupted. Rob snickered around the cock in his mouth. He’d changed his phone number so his dad would accept his calls again, and it looked like that worked.
“Yo, uh, this is Dino. I just wanted to say thanks, for makin’ ya son. He got a nice tight throat, and my dick fits perfectly down it.”
A loud sigh came from the phone. Am I on speaker-phone? Robert, this is truly immature behavior.
“His mouth is full, sir, full of my dick. He looks good wit’ dick in his throat,” Dino said. “You wanna listen as I stick ‘im? I’m gonna stick him in the ass now.”
He grabbed Rob by the hips, and pulled him off. His dick was cold and alone, begging for attention — Rob tried to stroke it as he got in position, but Dino kept moving, making it impossible to jack him off as they arranged themselves.
Rob dropped his pants and bent over on all fours. He put the phone on the ground in front of his face, so his father could hear everything that happened.
“Hey, Dad! I’m just using my inheritance,” Rob said. “I paid Dino five hundred dollars to stick his dick in me.”
Robert… You shame me.
“I know, but you deserve it,” Rob said. He threw his head back and moaned as Dino slipped into him. There was an intense, uncontrollable pressure. He moaned again, as loud as he could, a powerful, cringing sound that resonated in the kitchen. Rob’s father groaned in disgust.
You don’t need to call me for this.
“I absolutely do!” Rob said. His voice broke as a twinge of pleasure erupted in his prostate. He pushed his ass back, squeezing every inch of Dino’s dick into him.
Now that he had started and was into the groove of it, Dino was less nervous. He was surprised by how easy this really was — Rob’s ass felt exactly like a girl’s. It helped that Rob was such a feminine man, with a bubble-butt that was smooth, clean and unblemished, not to mention tight. He writhed like a sexy snake below Dino’s firm body.
“Yo’ son is a pervert, Mr. Winthrop!” Dino called out. He cackled. “That’s my dick in his ass!”
Really, son, you are disgusting. I’m hanging up now. And then he did so.
Rob was disappointed, but he wasn’t surprised. Dad always hung up once the noise started getting really passionate; Rob liked to imagine that he sobbed once he hung up the phone, but he didn’t know if that was true or not. Rob reached behind himself to spread his asscheeks, giving Dino more access to his asshole.
With a loud roar, Dino slapped Rob’s asscheek. He held onto it tightly as he humped. When he had gotten started, Dino didn’t want to touch any more of Rob than he absolutely had to. He was worried he’d feel some body hair and remember he was deep in a man. He’d be humiliated if his dick went soft in the middle of this.
But now that he was into it, he wasn’t worried about that all. Rob’s ass felt exactly like a girl’s, and he was so smooth he put most girls to shame. Dino gripped his ass and slammed his dick all the way in.
“Take it, bitch, god-damn!”
Once he was more comfortable with it, he knew what position he wanted — no girl ever let him do it for more than a few seconds because they said he was too heavy and hairy. But Dino had long wanted to do it laying on his partner’s back.
So that was what he did. He rammed his dick until it was all the way in, and he wrapped one forearm in front of Rob’s mouth. He sighed and moaned directly into the back of Rob’s head. His sweaty, hairy chest plopped down on Rob’s back. Bliss flooded Dino’s body, making his chest muscles spasm and flex against the smoothness of Rob’s spine and shoulders.
Entirely pinned beneath the Greek giant, Rob couldn’t even squirm, due to Dino’s heavy body pressing down on his back. He couldn’t breathe either, both because of the mass of Greek muscle atop his back and because he was too overcome by passion to take a breath. The body hair scratched Rob’s smooth back and left a sheen of sweat that Rob both felt and smelled.
“Hell, bitch, slut… You take dick good, damn! You must do this a lot…”
Dino rotated his hips, moving his dick in a wide circle within Rob’s ass. He hit every corner of Rob’s insides, his cock aiming into every part of Rob’s guts. He could even tell — as disgusting as it was — when his dick touched Rob’s prostate because it made Rob writhe beneath his body. He couldn’t move much, but Dino could feel his body struggle to squirm, and he sensed the pleasure roiling Rob’s innards.
Rob gasped, and Dino grunted.
Finally Dino felt his orgasm coming on strong. Rob had stopped breathing, the pressure in his ass so intense he couldn’t even gasp. Dino snorted like a hog, the sound of his rutting filling the air and echoing in Rob’s ears. Spasm of pleasure wracked both men’s bodies, which made Dino’s muscles ripple while Rob gaspingly pressed his back into Dino’s hairy chest.
“Here I go, baby, gonna fill you up, I love you so much, sweetheart-” Dino stopped and blushed because he remembered he wasn’t talking to a female. Luckily Rob either didn’t hear his words or didn’t take them seriously.
A wad of hot cum sprayed into Rob’s ass. Dino groaned loudly, his deep voice resonant and rough like sandpaper. His cum was hot and creamy, and it seeped into Rob’s flesh. Rob moaned as he shot his own load onto the floor and into his hand. Dino wrinkled his nose in disgust — he hadn’t known Rob was pleasuring himself — but he didn’t stop Rob even if it seemed disrespectful. Dino had been raised to believe a real man commanded respect, and he didn’t let his bitch distract him.
But this was too potent an orgasm to do anything while it still coursed through his veins. Dino’s hands curled into claws, then tightened into fists. He smacked Rob, not outright punching him of course, but hitting him in an affectionate way — or at least he saw it as affectionate; Rob saw it as bullying, but he was so aroused by it so he didn’t complain — harder than he would have ever hit a girl. More and more jizz jetted into Rob, until he was drenched inside and couldn’t even feel if it was still happening. But he could still feel Dino’s thickness throbbing within him, as cream and santorum dripped out between his legs.
He burped and laughed. Any girl would have kicked him out of bed for burping in their face, but Rob inhaled deeply of it and moaned. Dino screwed his nose up in disgust. His cock slowly limpened, but he remained in position, deep in Rob’s ass, his heavy body pressing down on Rob’s back.
“You ain’t gonna stiff me, is you?” Dino asked. It hadn’t occurred to him before now that Rob could just refuse to pay him, and Dino would have no recourse. He should have demanded money upfront. His dick still lay in Rob’s ass, its pulsations sending waves of pleasure up his spine.
“No. I won’t. I’ve got cash in my wallet,” Rob said, his voice strained and clipped. He bit his lip and moaned.
Dino nodded and moved to get up. When he did, his dick swam through the sea of cum that gurgled within Rob’s ass. He could feel the sticky fluid clinging to his soft cockflesh. Rivulets of jizz slid out Rob’s behind and onto the floor.
“Wait,” Rob said. “Can you stay there for a moment? I like feeling you inside me.”
“Fine,” Dino said with a grunt. It now felt pretty gross — this was more what he had imagined it would feel like before he started. He was intimately aware with every passing moment that he was inside a man’s ass. There was no way to pretend he was with a woman, not now. He reached out and grabbed Rob’s pants. “In here?”
“Yeah.” Rob’s voice was weak and wavery.
Dino pulled out the wallet. He briefly considered stealing Rob’s credit cards, but he figured someone as wealthy as Rob probably had excellent security on the cards, and Dino didn’t want to get in any legal trouble, as he might lose the right to see his daughter at all. He pulled out the cash — there was six hundred dollars in there. He took it all, though he had only been promised five hundred dollars.
“I’m taking six hundred dollars. The extra hundred bucks is for the performance I put on for your daddy,” Dino said. He pulled his dick out of Rob’s ass. “And you still gotta pay for the sink too.”
“Okay,” Rob said with a sigh. He turned around and frotted his dick with Dino’s much bigger, caramel-colored shaft. He smushed them both together.
Dino sneered. “That’s nasty, that’s nasty,” he said. But he let it continue for a few seconds, looking away. “I ain’t do no circle-jerkin’ since I was a merchant marine.” He glanced at Rob’s curious face. “When I lived in Greece, I was a merchant marine. Ain’t no females around, just a buncha A-rabs, and they do, y’know…” His cheeks turned red. “They do circle-jerkin’. I ain’t wanna.” He laughed. “But I did.” He finally put his cock away.
“Thanks, Dino,” Rob said. “You’re a great plumber.”

The Hobo

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

Can Carlos get the raunchy manmeat he craves?

Read it now as an ebook!

Read the whole thing here!

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

The Cocky Thug

Alboroto is a badass and a ladysman, but when he gets in a bad spot, a weird gringo white dude is willing to give him a few dollars in exchange for a swing on his alpha male meat!

Not that Alboroto needs any help…

Read it now as an ebook!

Or read the whole thing here!

Rob settled into his motel room at the Top Inn and got to work. The weather was beautiful, and the beach was not far from here. He really wanted to go out and bask in the sun, swim in the sea for the first time in years, not to mention eyebang the hunks and hotties whom he suspected would be there. Riverside, California seemed to be full of studs.
So that was what he needed to get done today. He had already written most of it. He just needed to churn the ending out, then he could go out guy-watching — Rob appreciated the male physique, and Riverside was full of splendid examples of it. Any city with this many men had to leave most of them unsatisfied, since there weren’t anywhere’s near as many sexy women that Rob could see.
When he reached a good stopping point, he decided to take a break. All he had to write was another four thousand words or so for the ending, and he’d be done for the day. Rob could write ten thousand words a day without breaking a sweat.
He resolved to at least sketch out the chapter, but then he nearly bumped into the bare, bulging bicep of a young Latino man walking by. Rob caught a whiff of his cheap cologne and a few sweaty notes that made his dick chub up.
The Latino didn’t notice that he had nearly bumped into Rob because he was on his cell phone, clicking his tongue against his teeth as a feminine voice yelled at him. His pants were slung low, and his muscles bulged from his wifebeater, atop which hung a couple shimmering chains.
“I told you, chica, I’ll buy it. I promise. Yo’ birthday ain’t till tomorrow, right? I ain’t late. I’ll pawn some chains, baby, don’t worry. I never let you down,” he said. “Yeah. Alright, baby.” He sighed and whispered. “Yeah, I’m sorry. I said I was sorry. I, uh, I love you, chica. C’mon… I love you. I was drunk then, but I love you, c’mon…” He looked at the phone and tssked his tonge against his teeth again. He put the phone back in his pocket — she had already hung up. He shook his head and lit a cigarette.
“Girl trouble?” Rob asked.
He glanced at Rob like he hadn’t known he was there. He nodded noncommitall and mumbled something like wuzzup.
“I’m Rob,” he said. “I’m a writer.”
“Cool.” He took a drag on his cigarette.
“I’ve got two hundred and three dollars cash in my wallet. I’ll give it to you if you let me jerk you off,” Rob said. He was blunt since it appeared this guy was not going to engage in a conversation.
The Latino looked up at Rob — though built like the proverbial brick shithouse, he was not tall — and glared at him.
He sneered. “Gringo… You should not be talkin’ ‘bout cash in this city,” he said. “I am gonna take yo’ two hundred and three dollars. And I will also let you jerk me off. Those two things ain’t related. I am robbin’ you, motherfucker, I ain’t yo’ rent boy.”
“Uh, okay,” Rob said. “Can we use your room?” He didn’t want to give this guy the chance to steal his laptop. He wasn’t writing this plowing lesbian story all over again, and he hadn’t backed up since Monday.
The Latino nodded, then let him in. He had the room next to Rob’s. As soon as he walked in, he took off his shirt. He kept his chains and his backwards baseball cap on, and he didn’t lower his pants. “You’ll lick balls, right?”
“Yes, sir, I will,” Rob said. He blushed at the sight of the Latino’s rippling muscles. That made Rob’s face and chest turn red, and his dick got a little harder in his pants. The Latino beamed like he didn’t get called sir a lot, which is exactly why Rob had done it. “What should I call you, sir?”
“Gimme that money and start,” he said, sneering at the question he refused to answer.
Rob’s hands shook as he pulled out his wallet. He had exactly two hundred and three dollars in there. He tremblingly handed it over to the Latino, and his hands fumbled with the Latino’s fly.
The word Alboroto was tattooed on his belly; Rob didn’t know what it meant. It looked like a nickname, so that was what Rob decided to call him. He unzipped Alboroto’s jeans and pulled his long, thick dick out through the fly.
“Get to suckin’, gringo,” Alboroto said. He crossed his arms over his bare chest.
Rob kissed the tip to tease him. He produced a mouthful of spit and spat it out on Alboroto’s shaft. Then he sucked the spit back up and repeated that a few times, as he licked the sides and rubbed the entire cockshaft over his lips.
But he didn’t actually put it in his mouth yet. Rob loved provoking macho alpha males like Alboroto, who kept his chin up, avoiding looking down at Rob. His arms were over his chest, and every few seconds he scoffed like he was annoyed Rob hadn’t made him cum yet.
“What do you need to buy for your girlfriend?” Rob asked. He thwacked that massive cock over his face. It was only half-hard yet, throbbing and meaty, slick with saliva. He kept his tongue out of his mouth, rubbing Alboroto’s dick over it as he talked. “Is it a present? I could help. I know a lot about what girls want.”
“What do you know about girls?”
“I’m a romance author.”
“What?”
“Remember I said I’m a writer? I mainly write romance for women,” Rob said. He licked cocksweat off his own lips and rubbed his tongue along the veins that lined Alboroto’s shaft. Rob giggled. “I know a lot about what they want.”
Alboroto scoffed and clicked his tongue against his teeth. “Man, that ain’t relevant. My girl don’t read some gringo’s romance-” He paused like he had just realized something. “Oh. I mean, she read some shit on her kindle-“
“Yeah, that’s it.”
“She read yo’ shit?”
“Well, I dunno about that, prolly not me specifically,” Rob said. “Is she into rugby jocks?” He deep-throated Alboroto’s dick one time, just lowering his head all the way until he gagged and sputtered. His nose nestled in Alboroto’s trimmed pubic hair. Alboroto gasped. His knees buckled and his dick perked up in Rob’s mouth.
His muscles roiling, jaw trembling, Alboroto mumbled something that Rob didn’t understand. It was clear that he was saying that he didn’t know what rugby was and he didn’t pay enough attention to his chica’s interests to know if she read romance novels on her kindle.
Rob pulled off and smiled up at Alboroto, who had a flat expression on his face though his suddenly pulsating cock suggested he was enjoying the dome very much. He just didn’t want to admit it. He shifted his weight.
Rob took a deep breath. “Your dick tastes so good. I bet your chica loves sucking on it.”
He flared his nostrils. “No. She-” His voice broke as Rob deep-throated him again. Alboroto grunted as he again covered up how aroused he was. “She only sucks dick if I, uh… If I do…” His voice trailed off. He looked down at his cock disappearing down Rob’s throat. “I mean, she sucks me off whenevuh I tell her to.”
Rob pulled away and clucked his tongue. “Oh, you poor baby. I think all girls should suck their man off every day,” he said. Always tell ‘em what they wanna hear…
“Hell yeah, you should run for president,” Alboroto mumbled. He groaned as his dick spasmed in Rob’s mouth.
“Is it okay if I lick your balls, sir?” Rob asked. He giggled and blushed.
Alboroto nodded. “Yeah, man, open up. You like that?” Alboroto loved it when his girl sucked on his balls, but she hated it and had only done so once.
“I love it. I bet you have tasty balls,” Rob said with a laugh.
“Si.”
Rob turned his head upwards and opened his mouth. Alboroto pulled his heavy, hairy ballsack out of the fly of his jeans, and he plopped it right in Rob’s waiting mouth. Instantly the flavor of Alboroto’s sweat assaulted Rob’s senses. He moaned and gurgled, producing more saliva and tickling Alboroto’s scrotum skin.
Alboroto grunted and heaved some more. He kept his arms folded over his chest, accentuating his thick pecs; his muscles kept tensing and flexing and he had to force his hands to remain in position. He closed his eyes and moaned, but bit his lip to stifle it.
“You okay, man,” Alboroto said with a dry, throaty chuckle. He wrinkled his nose. “You okay at this. I had better. Pity you ain’t got tits.”
Rob said he was sorry for not being a girl, but his mouth was full of sweaty balls, so all that came out was a moist, muffled sound. He licked Alboroto’s scrotum, lapping at it as Alboroto shifted his weight. His eyes bugged out like he had rarely had someone suck his balls so perfectly.
Finally Alboroto couldn’t bear to keep his arms folded over his chest anymore. He smacked the motel room wall behind himself and threw his head back. He groaned so loud the sound resonated in Rob’s ears, and he could even feel the vibrations in Alboroto’s cock.
“C’mon, lick my dick.” He grabbed Rob’s head as though going to throat him down. But then the feel of Rob’s hair stopped him — it was short and entirely too masculine. Alboroto didn’t want to touch him.
But he was enjoying the dome. He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. He put his arms over his chest again, though he found it difficult to keep them there.
Alboroto had never gotten dome from a man before. He would have never admitted that. When he was eighteen, he spent three weeks in prison. When he came back, he told his friends that he had turned a inmate into a whore and had throated him until he begged for mercy.
None of that had been true but it had made Alboroto seem like a real gangsta. He was glad to have an opportunity to really do it for once, so now he could truthfully say he wasn’t a bullshitter about this (or at least, it wasn’t completely bullshit). His friends still called him Violador sometimes in reference to it.
But he couldn’t admit, even to himself right now, how good the dome from Rob was — he always swore that prison dome was sloppy and crappy. Alboroto had been complaining to his friends for years about how he needed a girl who would suck his dick like a good, submissive bitch should.
“Swallow it deep, man, get it all the way in there… Bajo”
He wondered if he should ram this gringo in the ass. A part of him said no, of course not, that was too gross. But another part of him said to do it. He had been bragging about plowing that man in prison — he had told people he rammed that prison punk until he cried — so maybe it would be good to actually do it once. He’d never tell his friends about this one, but at least he wouldn’t be lying when he said he did it.
In truth, his friends would not think less of him for ramrodding a man. That would simply make him an hombre, which was fine. In his culture, men were either hombres who rammed or pasivos who got rammed. It wasn’t bad to be an hombre. That made you a real man, especially if you rammed your pasivo in a hard and cruel way.
So that was what he intended to do. But first, Alboroto called his friend Jamaal. “Yo.”
Yo, sup.
“You got that Carter Ave deal, right?
Yeah. Why you callin’ ‘bout that again?
“Just wanted to make sure, nigga.”
Whatchoo doin’?
“Gettin’ head. You wanna hear?” Alboroto smiled and held the phone low, right next to where his cock plunged down Rob’s throat. His dick was rock-hard now, precum flowing like piss. If he wasn’t distracted by his discomfort with being with a man, Alboroto thought he would have cum already.
Sounds nice, man. I thought yo’ chica wasn’t doin’ that anymore-
“Shut the fuck up, nigga. My bitch does it when I tell her to.”
So that is her?
“I ain’t say that. I ain’t say it was a her at all. I gots me a prison bitch, Jamaal.”
Oh yeah, right, just like that one in prison, huh?
“Fuck you.”
E’rybody know you a big bullshitter, Durango. Tha’s prolly some whore you paid like two bucks for dome.
“Man, Jamaal-“
How much she charge to take her teeth out first? You know you gonna have to pay for antibiotics, right? Would-a been cheaper to pay more fo’ a better whore.
“Ram you, Jamaal! Shut your mouth,” Getting annoyed, Alboroto resumed throating Rob down, since at least that way he could express his frustration, even if it wasn’t aimed at the right person. He gripped Rob’s head with one hand, holding the phone with the other — a few minutes ago he had found it distracting to touch a man’s hair, but now he was both hornier and more distracted, so he didn’t think of that. “Yeah, you here that, Jamaal? Huh? That’s my balls slappin’ on my bitch’s chin.”
Oh yeah? That must be nice. Ain’t nobody evuh manage to suck my dick that deep, y’know. Mouths don’t come that big.
“I’m gonna come throat yo’ face next,” Alboroto said with a snarl. He hung up the phone and threw it on the bed. He closed his eyes and mumbled to himself. He should never have called Jamaal. Jamaal was going to tell everyone that Alboroto was mess with a toothless herpes-ridden crackwhore.
He tried to banish those thoughts from his mind. He focused on the pleasure twinging up from his veiny cockshaft as saliva dripped down it in clumps, landing in his shortened pubic hair — his chica demanded he keep himself trimmed. He pumped his hips, slamming his dick down deep in Rob’s throat.
“You gonna make me nut, boy…” Alboroto said. He didn’t mention that his girlfriend’s toothy, off-rhythm sucking never brought him to orgasm so easily, on those rare occasions when he talked her into trying it.
When he felt an orgasm coming on quickly, Alboroto grabbed Rob and pulled him off his dick. He felt momentarily disappointed as his dick was now without attention. It felt cold, and it throbbed like it demanded someone touching it, sucking on it, taking it inside some tight, dark hole.
“You gonna give up the ass, gringo?”
“Yes, sir,” Rob said. He teased Alboroto by standing up and stretching his legs. He knew he had a nice plump ass, which he displayed after dropping his jeans. He made a big show of slowly bending over the bed, knowing that Alboroto would just get more frustrated as he waited. “Do you have lube?”
Alboroto nodded. He pulled a tube out of a duffel bag, out of which he had been living for the past month. He poured the lube onto the top of Rob’s asscrack, so it seeped down into his hole. It was cold at first, and Rob let out a shiver.
Then he felt an explosion of pressure in his asshole. As always, it hurt at first, more than it felt good, especially this time since Alboroto was not trying to be gentle.
But within a few seconds of that throbbing brown meat entering him, Rob moaned as a shard of pre-orgasmic pleasure hit him. He was already rock-hard from the taste of Alboroto’s dick, and now his excited prostate sent him to the next level.
“Ah, yes, stick it in me, Alboroto…” he said. His voice broke and he hung his head.
“You ain’t gotta tell me that,” Alboroto said. He saw Rob’s wallet on the floor and fished it out as he worked his dick in, centimeter by centimeter. He didn’t want to steal the man’s credit cards, that was too dangerous, but he did want to see if he had any emergency cash. Sure enough, there was a folded-up fifty dollar bill, which Alboroto pocketed. He wanted to distract the gringo, so he grabbed his own clean wifebeater and used it like a tether in the guy’s mouth.
Rob bit down hard on the fabric, which smelled of Alboroto’s sweat and his cheap cologne, a generic-brand body spray by the scent of it. That made Rob’s dick throb and leak precum onto the mattress — Rob loved the funky smell of unwashed men.
“Gonna ramroad you the way a vato should,” Alboroto said. “Get on your back, bitch.” His chest was dappled with sweat. He dropped the wifebeater, pulled his dick out and rolled Rob over. Right after being released from prison when he was eighteen, Alboroto’s uncle had told him how a real hombre should ram his pasivo. He said that the pasivo has to be on his back, with his legs in the air, both because that was similar to a position you might fuck a woman in and because it meant he couldn’t run away — Alboroto’s uncle had been in prison off and on throughout his life, in the US, Mexico and also Guatemala briefly.
Now he really wanted that position, even if it did mean he’d be able to see Rob’s cock as he jacked himself off. That just seemed gross. Alboroto couldn’t imagine how anyone took dick in the ass and liked it, and seeing Rob’s hard cock made it impossible to avoid thinking about that.
So he closed his eyes and pumped his hips. His cock was all the way in Rob’s ass. That had been so easy, and it felt so good, he didn’t even notice that he felt no real resistance. He had never fucked a girl who didn’t complain about his dick in her ass. It was nice to be able to pound away as hard as he could, knowing he wouldn’t have to hear constant whining and telling him to take a break.
He held Rob’s feet in position, and he was so aroused he didn’t even notice Rob’s leg hair scratching against Alboroto’s flesh. Alboroto slammed his dick in and out, marveling at how tight Rob’s ass was, yet loose enough that Alboroto could ram him hard.
The more he plowed back and forth, the less inhibited he got. Alboroto slapped Rob’s asscheeks, which his girl hated, and smiled as that made Rob clench and moan.
Waves of pleasure erupted from deep within Alboroto. He was about to orgasm when his cell phone rang. He knew who it was even before he pulled his cell phone out of his pants pocket. It was his chica, Rosa.
“Keep quiet, man,” he said. He answered the phone. “Hey, baby.”
You pawn those chains yet?
“It’s been like twenty minutes, chica.”
So? My birthday is still tomorrow, and if you think I’m lettin’ my sister show me up, you got another thing comin’.
“Baby, I tol’ you, I’d buy it,” he said. He sniffled. Alboroto spoke quietly and plainly to her, his bravado largely gone. He kept plowing as he talked, but he moved his hips slowly, both to keep himself from orgasming as he talked and because he didn’t want to make noise. He sighed.
Don’t you roll your eyes at me, nigga. I can hear you-
“You can’t hear my eyes roll.”
Yes, I can, you no-good asshole. You fuckin’ some slut right now?
“No, baby!”
I want that perfume, Durango. You promised it. You always say that you buy me nice things because you’re such a gangsta, but you never actually do it-
“I said I’d do it! I’ll buy it!” he said. He stopped moving with his dick all the way in Rob’s ass, so deep Rob’s balls even touched Alboroto’s crotch-hair. His dick throbbed against Rob’s prostate, making Rob writhe as he tried to avoid crying out. Alboroto was very annoyed, especially that she had called him Durango — that’s what she always called him, but Rob had started to call him Alboroto because he didn’t know his real name and it was tattooed on his belly. Alboroto had never gotten his girl to call him that. She constantly “forgot” and called him Durango. He felt like a loser complaining about it to her, but it did annoy him, and as he had been listening to Rob moan about how much he loved Alboroto’s cock sliding into him, Alboroto was now reminded of why he liked to be called by his street name.
The perfume was one recently released by a Latina rapper named Reinita Ray. Alboroto didn’t see what the big deal was — it was just a perfume — but his girlfriend idolized Reinita Ray, and her sister had gone to a concert that Alboroto had “accidentally” (but really on-purpose) forgotten to buy tickets for. So he couldn’t fail to buy the perfume as well.
You had better, nigga. You gonna pawn those chains?
“Nah. I’m robbin’ this gringo instead. Don’t call me again, I’m in the middle of a robbery,” he said. He hung up the phone before she could say anything. He turned it off. That oughta sound like a real gangsta, he thought to himself, and it wasn’t even a lie, not really.
He rammed so hard his balls slapped against Rob’s asscheeks. One of his hands had wandered over while he was on the phone, and now it rested above Rob’s neck, holding him in place. Alboroto gave him a squeeze.
It wasn’t tight enough to strangle Rob, but it did get his attention. His mind was swimming with pleasure, as he stroked himself off and wiggled on the bedspread. The blankets and sheets were wadded up by now, on the foot of the bed.
It was obvious Alboroto was about to cum. Rob orgasmed as well, his prostate singing and tingling with every thrust of Alboroto’s cock into him. Rob’s entire body tensed and clenched. He threw his head back and screamed so loud people outside the motel room could hear.
As cum flew over Rob’s stomach, Alboroto wrinkled his nose. He knew a lot of hombres didn’t allow their pasivos to jack off while they got rammed — he wished he had thought of that before, because now he could smell semen, which made his stomach churn. He even saw it trickle down Rob’s flesh, most of it going over the side and onto the mattress, but one rivulet ran down to Alboroto’s cock. If he wasn’t on the verge of orgasming as well, he would have stopped to punish Rob for getting cum on him.
“Take it, man, yeah…”
But he didn’t want to stop, even if he did feel another man’s semen coating his dick. That made him shudder with disgust. His muscles tensed. His gold and platinum changed tinkled when they clanged against each other as he rammed.
“Take it, gringo, yeah, you gonna get filled up…” He moaned as he came. He forgot about pretending he would rather be plowing a girl — he would, of course, but only if she had an ass exactly like this gringo. He strangled Rob for real, for just a few seconds, long enough to make him wiggle and clench his ass again. It felt like he was tearing that ass up, which made Alboroto feel like a tough guy, like his father.
“Oh god, Alboroto, your dick is so perfect…”
He slammed his dick in and out, even as it became uncomfortably sensitive. He liked hearing Rob enthusiastically beg for more, and he liked watching how every thrust of his hips made Rob squirm a little more. He also liked how his cumload made a big mess the more he rammed, big waves of bubbly, frothy cum coating his crotch and soaking into the mattress.
“You done, punk? Huh?” Alboroto asked — his uncle had said this was how you finished inside a pasivo in prison, so Alboroto wanted to try it out — “Huh? Answer me, bitch. You want me to pull out? I ain’t gonna pull out till you beg me to do it. Gonna stay inside ya-“
“Don’t ever pull out,” Rob said, his voice weak and tremulous. His entire body shook as aftershocks of his orgasm washed over him. He moaned again and clutched the mattress beneath himself.
Alboroto’s dick slowly limpened inside Rob’s guts. “Tell me when you done, bitch. Tell me…” His menacing voice trailed off as he realized this wasn’t going to work. Maybe in prison where you weren’t doing it on a comfortable bed, and you didn’t have nice lube. But here, this gringo was in no hurry to get Alboroto to pull out. That meant Alboroto had painted himself into a corner — he was too proud to remove his cock without hearing Rob beg, since he had sworn he wouldn’t. If Rob wasn’t going to beg, there was nothing Alboroto could do without losing face.
“Can you move your dick a little to the left?” Rob asked. “There’s a spot there…” He groaned and smiled as Alboroto’s dick shifted and another wave of pleasure hit him. In actuality, there was a lot of discomfort too, now that they had both cum. But Rob liked making things difficult for Alboroto — it brought out the machismo in him. Alboroto’s muscles tensed and flexed.
“Ain’t gonna pull out till you make me, bitch. Beg me for it,” Alboroto said. He spat on Rob’s face, but Rob just sucked it up. That made Alboroto gag, as did the sight of his dick in Rob’s hairy, frothy-cummed asshole. Could he just pull out? Embarrassing himself in front of some random gringo who wasn’t even from Riverside shouldn’t be a problem, he thought. But he still didn’t want to do it.
Rob grinned. It finally got uncomfortable enough he gave in. “Please, sir, take your dick out, so I can clean it off.”
“Alright,” Alboroto said, relieved to be done. He pulled his dick out, deliberately keeping his head up so he didn’t see it — he didn’t want to know how nasty his cock looked right now. He hadn’t thought to make his bitch clean his dick off, but that was a good idea.
Rob used kleenex to wipe the shaft off. He used most of an entire box, sopping up all the cum and the assjuice and the spit that still clung to it. Then he kissed Alboroto’s dick right on the shaft.
Alboroto shuddered as his knees buckled. His dick spasmed, reawakening all of the pleasure that had diminished since he finished plowing. His voice broke as he mumbled for Rob to quit playing with it. “Damn, gringo. You really like cock, huh?”
“I like your cock, baby,” Rob said. He leaned back on the bed, naked, until Alboroto barked at him to get dressed.
“We done now, gringo. Unless you got more cash I ain’t rob off you yet,” he said. He put his wifebeater back on.
Rob slowly put his clothes on while Alboroto grinned at him. Rob made a kissy face, and Alboroto looked away. “Hey, Alboroto,” Rob said. “I don’t have any more cash. But I’ll write you a check for a hundred dollars if you kiss me, with tongue. You don’t have any way of knowing if the check will clear. You’ll just have to trust me.”
“No way! Fuck no! I ain’t no kinda pansy,” Alboroto said. His blood boiled, but his anger came mainly from the fact that he knew he was going to say yes — a hundred bucks and all he had to do was spend a couple seconds pretending he was with a girl? He could do that. “Absolutely not, gringo. That is fuckin’ nasty.”
But then before Rob could say anything, Alboroto grabbed him in his arms and threw him back on the bed, where Rob felt the wet spots and smelled the cumstains they had just created. Alboroto’s muscular chest flexed beneath Rob’s grasp as Alboroto kissed him right on the lips.
His tongue plunged into Rob’s mouth and stayed there, completely still, not moving even when Rob’s tongue touched it. It was like Alboroto thought sticking his tongue in Rob’s mouth was okay, but moving it around made it feel too weird.
To Rob, Alboroto’s awkwardness made it even better. That was what he liked. It was, objectively speaking, the worst kiss ever. But Rob got to grope Alboroto’s strapping back and even his plump asscheeks beneath his jeans, before Alboroto finally pulled away.
He growled. “You best write that check, bitch. And if it don’t cash… I swear to God, I will track you down. Your address is on the check, y’know.”
“Oh right,” Rob said, making it sound like he had really forgotten that. The address on the check was in Florida, and if Alboroto did go there, he’d find just a UPS store. But Rob didn’t let on. The check would clear.
Alboroto beamed like he had just gotten away with something as Rob wrote out the check. He put machismo in the memo line. “I’ll leave that top line blank,” Rob said, “since you don’t want to tell me your real name.”
He nodded and swiped the check. “Now get out, bitch.”
Rob did as he was told. He was glad to be away from Alboroto safely, even if he was also going to miss that cock.