Twink on Top: The Native American Masseur

Here’s the entirety of Twink on Top: The Native American Masseur, a hot tale of Indian sex, rough trade and a massage with a very happy ending! This is part of the Native American Masseur series, which is all available along with much more in Gay Masseur Erotica, Vol. 1!

Timmy was surprised by how nice the massage parlor was. He tried not to act like a New York elitist; that was not easy to do here in Anchorage. It was a nice little town, but it looked like a village as far as he was concerned. There were few cabs, no Thai restaurants, like two black people in the whole city; there was no live theater, at least not while he was here; there was a university, but it didn’t seem to have much impact on local culture.

So he thought the massage parlor would be some low-rent dive. When he saw the Asian women who scurried about in beautiful kimonos, he wondered if he had made a mistake — was this a brothel? He had called and spoke to the front desk. Of course he didn’t ask directly if it was a brothel, they would never have said yes anyway. But he asked about their services, and it sounded like a real massage parlor.

He acted as flamboyant and twinky as possible, just to be sure. He didn’t want any awkward situations with a Chinese woman trying to give him a handjob. He wasn’t positive the girl at the front desk was familiar enough with American culture to get that he was gay, but he gayed it up to the best of his ability. Timmy had always been a pretty blatantly gay man, so he thought he had gotten his point across.

Now he wasn’t sure it was worth it at all. It might have been better to just use the back massager he had gotten for Christmas last year, but he had never really liked it. He genuinely needed a massage — his shoulders were tight, as they often were. His doctor had recommended an occasional massage, which usually worked.

“Sir,” said a gruff, deep voice. Timmy turned around and his jaw dropped. There was a man in front of him — not an Asian man, an American, an Indian, it seemed. “Patuk,” he said by way of introduction. Then he nodded towards the rooms in the back of the massage parlor, and Timmy followed.

Timmy was shocked for a couple reasons. First of all, Patuk was a man; he was not Asian; he was unlike everyone else who worked here. Even more than that, he was sexy. He was ungodly hot, Timmy thought. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with long, straight black hair. His jaw was square, his cheekbones high, and he had a thick scar on his neck as though someone had tried to decapitate him.

He led Timmy down the hall, wearing a tight pair of jeans that framed his ass. He wore a plain brown shirt that ended at the shoulder. He looked more like he was on his way to job as a farmworker than a masseur, Timmy thought. Had he come into the wrong place after all? Maybe Patuk was the owner, not a masseur?

“Lie down,” Patuk said. It was impossible to tell whether he was happy with this or not — he looked rather like he was already bored of this massage.

He certainly had that Native American taciturnness, Timmy thought, shivering a little with delight. Patuk had on a sleeveless shirt, so his lumberjack-like biceps were plainly visible. Timmy wanted more than anything to kiss them, but it was obvious Patuk was straight.

“I have trapezitis,” Timmy said. “That means my shoulders are-“

“I know what it means,” Patuk said, glaring at him. “Lie down.” After flipping on a stereo and waiting for New Age music to fill the air, he rubbed oil into his hands. His powerful biceps glistened with baby oil as well, or maybe it was sweat, Timmy couldn’t tell from where he lay on the massage table.

Timmy gulped and laid on the table as ordered. Had he offended Patuk? His brown face was still, like he was thinking about something very important and paying no attention to Timmy. Timmy settled into position on the table.

Laying on his belly, Timmy couldn’t see Patuk. He felt tense though. Patuk was not a very good masseur, Timmy decided before the massage began — he seemed almost hostile. He wasn’t sure he could relax at all. This was not the kind of environment that he usually found in massage parlors. Masseurs were supposed to be kind, friendly, evoking a calm and relaxed atmosphere. Patuk seemed as likely to chop him up with a hatchet as give him a massage, but Timmy was too scared to consider leaving.

But then the New Age music became a bit louder and more engrossing, and the smell of burning sweetgrass filled the air. Timmy felt a momentary surge of relaxation. He had been through enough massages that he was primed to feel the tension melt away when the atmosphere approached that of a more typical massage parlor. He sighed as Patuk finally touched his skin, and calmness flooded his system.

The feeling only intensified as Patuk’s strong hands began kneading Timmy’s back. He was a good masseur, Timmy realized with a start. He sighed. The tension began to drain from his shoulders.

Patuk’s hands were callused and rough, beneath the massage oil he used. He felt like a roughneck, Timmy thought, like he should be working on an oil rig, not in a massage parlor. But since Timmy was gay and Patuk was sexy, he didn’t mind at all. The extra friction from his fingerpads actually made the massage feel a little better, he thought.

His hands moved down Timmy’s back and Timmy had an urge to remind him that he really just needed shoulder-work. But Patuk either forgot or didn’t care, and Timmy was rather enjoying himself. Patuk’s hands worked the flesh of his ribs and his lower back, and he even got close enough that Timmy felt Patuk’s breath condensing on the back of Timmy’s neck.

Then Patuk’s hands reached Timmy’s ass, concealed only by a towel. Timmy shivered with anxiety at the realization that Patuk wasn’t stopping. As a flamboyantly gay man, Timmy certainly had no reason to tell Patuk to stop touching his ass, but he was shocked just the same.

When the towel came off, the warm air made the sensitive skin of Timmy’s ass pucker. The sparse short hairs there stood on end, and Timmy’s whole body quivered with desire.

Much to his surprise, Patuk didn’t just rub his cheeks a bit and move on. A lot of masseurs did that. Instead one of those big, rough hands worked its way between his cheeks. Patuk grunted, but didn’t say anything.

Timmy moaned and blushed as Patuk’s finger teased the rim of his asshole. Timmy’s back arched. He wondered for the first time if Patuk’s machismo, his gruff exterior and his Indian stoicism masked homosexuality. He wasn’t sure — both Indian culture and Alaska itself were different than anything Timmy had known before, so he had no idea how gay men acted here. Maybe this was normal, he thought.

Timmy was so relaxed that when Patuk turned him over, it was like dead weight. He just flipped Timmy onto his back. Timmy’s lean, pale body trembled, his bare dick sticking straight up. Patuk frowned as though he had expected to see a vagina.

Then before Timmy could say anything, Patuk kneeled between his legs and swallowed his dick. His dark eyes flashed upward at Timmy, who moaned. Patuk’s craggy face vibrated as he licked Timmy’s shaft and produced copious spit.

There was something almost machine-like about Patuk’s blowjob, Timmy thought, like he had scientifically determined the best way to get Timmy off and was now following through on the plan. Timmy writhed, his climax already approaching even as he leaked his first drops of precum.

But before he could cum, Timmy guided Patuk’s head down. Patuk licked Timmy’s shaft and then suckled on each ball in turn. He licked Timmy’s smooth sac (Timmy shaved his crotch bald every week) and the first hint of a smile appeared on his face.

Seeing his dark eyes only reminded Timmy how shocking this was. Patuk was as straight-acting as any man Timmy had ever seen. He had rough skin and ropy muscles; he wasn’t hairy, he was too Indian for that, but he had a swarthy complexion, and a few colorful tattoos covering his chest and back. Most prominent was a large eagle — not a bald eagle, but some other kind Timmy didn’t quite recognize — whose wings outstretched from his back, up over his shoulder, to end over his heart.

His mouth moved back up to Timmy’s cock, and he sucked with fervor and abandon. Spit dribbled past his lips and down Timmy’s shaft, pooling there on this bare balls. Patuk let out a low, slow growl, not loud or even especially passionate, but in comparison with his otherwise silent demeanor, it was a compelling sound that made Timmy shudder with anticipation.

“What, uh…-?” Timmy intended to ask what is this? But his mind was distracted by pleasure coursing through his veins, and he couldn’t form the last half of his sentence. It didn’t matter, he thought, since Patuk didn’t seem likely to answer anyway.

Then Patuk pulled off his cock. He looked at it like it was his final meal, and licked its shaft as he stroked it. He spat onto his hand for lubrication — he didn’t spit like a gay man, Timmy thought, he spat like a baseball player or a redneck.

“I, uh… I can’t pay you for this-“

“I am not prostitute,” Patuk said. He glared at Timmy. Despite that, his tone was flat, with no indications that he was offended.

“Oh. Okay, it’s just-“

“I am not prostitute,” he repeated, this time sounding angry enough that Timmy gulped and fell silent.

Patuk climbed up onto the massage table with more limberness than his big body suggested. His broad muscles barely fit up there, but he easily stood around Timmy’s body. He continued to glare right into Timmy’s eyes as though frustrated, and one of his hands wrapped around Timmy’s throat.

For a moment, Timmy panicked. Maybe this was a case of gay rage, he thought, and Patuk was going to kill him because he knew that Patuk was gay. But that didn’t seem likely — ‘masseur’ was hardly the ideal job for someone who wanted to accentuate his heterosexuality, and in any case, Timmy knew Indian culture approved of gays. It didn’t make any sense for an Indian masseur to be a self-hating gay.

“I am not prostitute,” he said again, this time squeezing Timmy’s neck just a little bit. He hovered above Timmy’s crotch, his tight brown ass resting there. Timmy’s dick spasmed and jerked as though trying to find a hole to penetrate.

“Oh, uh, okay,” Timmy said. “I’m gay. I’m sure you figured that out. I, uh… it’s okay to be gay. There’s nothing wrong with that.” Shut up, Timmy, you’re babbling.

Patuk nodded as though he had been waiting to hear that. He leaned in closer, keeping his hand on Timmy’s neck, and kissed him on the lips. He was still crouched over Timmy’s body, his flexible limbs stretching to reach Timmy’s face.

Hesitating, Timmy clutched Patuk’s back, savoring the feel of the corded muscle like coiled rope, and he fingered that eagle tattoo. Then he thrust his tongue into Patuk’s mouth. They both moaned together, though Patuk’s was a low, barely audible sound that made Timmy’s back shudder.

Then he lowered himself down, letting his ass land right on Timmy’s cock. Timmy moaned as his dick disappeared inside the big Indian, who closed his eyes and moaned, the first sound he had made since this began.

Patuk’s craggy face winced a little in pain, but he mainly remained stony as he rode Timmy’s dick. He stroked himself off as well, until Timmy took over, playing with Patuk’s dick with one hand and hefting his balls with the other.

He was uncut, which Timmy liked. He wondered if that was normal for Native Americans. Timmy stretched out the man’s foreskin and played with his sensitive head, which made Patuk writhe above him. Patuk’s muscles flexed all at once.

The first few drops of Patuk’s precum dribbled down Timmy’s hand. He brought his fingers to his mouth to suck on them, only for Patuk to beat him to it. In the end they both sucked Timmy’s hand clean, as Patuk’s heavy balls dragged on Timmy’s smooth belly.

There was a knock on the door, and Timmy gasped. He held his breath.

A Japanese woman’s voice filtered through the doorway. “Patuk? Patuk? Do you have a client in there?”

His voice was clipped and strained, whether from pain and pleasure at being penetrated, or from annoyance at being interrupted, Timmy didn’t know. He scowled. “Yes,” Patuk said.

There was a long pause. Timmy wondered if the Japanese woman knew what was going on in here, or suspected it at least. Maybe that was why it took her a long time to answer.

“Mrs. Donnelly is here,” the woman said. “She said she has a massage scheduled with you,”


“She asked me to make sure you have… uh-“


“The coconut oil, and uh… She asked if you did your tongue stretches. Maybe that was a joke? She laughed-“

“Yes, Kimo, that is fine. Tell her I will be ready shortly,” Patuk said. “Tell her to prepare herself. She will know what that means.”

The Japanese woman outside waited a long time before leaving, without saying another word. Patuk looked momentarily embarrassed. Timmy had trouble focusing with the pleasure of his cock throbbing in Patuk’s tight ass — but Timmy did realize what was going on: Patuk must have sex with all of his clients, or at least many of them, apparently including at least one woman.

“Are you, uh… going to have sex with her?”

Patuk didn’t answer, but from the stoic stare he produced, Timmy suspected the answer was yes. Was he embarrassed because it made him look like a slut? Or because it made him look bisexual? Or some other reason.

As Patuk began lifting his hips again, using his entire body to ram his ass up and down on Timmy’s dick, Timmy felt the man’s erect nipples. They kissed again, and Timmy stroked Patuk’s hard cock.

“Are you going to be able to cum again? With her, I mean?” Timmy asked just because he wondered if he was only going to eat her out — maybe that was why she had asked about his tongue. But he was too aroused to be articulate, so his point wasn’t clear.

Regardless, Patuk didn’t answer. He put his hand back around Timmy’s throat and growled, “Stop talking. I will do my job.”

Timmy didn’t need to be told twice — he didn’t want Patuk to get annoyed and stop. In any case, his climax approached and Timmy moaned. His balls crawled up in sac, as his hand in Patuk’s crotch felt his balls do the same.

They both finally reached orgasm at once. Timmy had an animated reaction. He blushed and gasped; he yelped; he bit his tongue so hard he drew blood; his fingers clenched into claws that clutched at Patuk’s nipples and the tattoo of an eagle that hovered above his heart. Patuk threw his head back, his long hair flowing in front of his face. The crags of his cheeks and chin shook as they both vibrated in sync with each other.

The sound that emanated from Timmy’s mouth was so loud he was sure the Japanese masseuses heard it, but nobody responded outside the room. Timmy writhed, his throat clenched as the most powerful orgasm of his life wracked his mind and body.

“Oh, god, Patuk!”

Hot cum coated Patuk’s insides just as Patuk’s own load sprayed right over Timmy’s chest and mouth. The flavor of his juice coated Timmy’s tongue, and he licked enthusiastically, getting every drop that he could. His muscles flexed all at once, while Patuk’s entire body rippled, from his stoic face down to his tattooed chest and trunk-like thighs. His smooth flesh was dappled in sweat, and a loud euh jumped out of his throat — it wasn’t much, but Timmy suspected it was as powerful an orgasm as Patuk had had in a long time.

Then Patuk pulled himself off. He stretched as he got down off the massage table. He walked stiffly to the counter, where he withdrew a tissue and wiped his ass clean. His powerful cheeks jiggled and he threw the used tissue in a trash can. Then he frowned at Timmy.

“You are done,” he said. He crossed his arms over his chest, accentuating his pecs and that eagle tattoo, which rippled as his skin shifted. His bare cock shimmered with remnants of his cumload. Timmy got up, intending to put his clothes back on, but found himself sinking to his knees in front of Patuk.

It was just because he was so used to being a bottom, Timmy felt he needed to worship that cock. He hadn’t even tasted it. He kissed the tip, and licked it down to the root. Patuk sneered a little as though surprised, maybe a bit annoyed at the delay.

“You are done. The massage is complete.”

“Oh… okay,” Timmy said. “Well, that was… uh, good..” This has been a sudden transition, he thought. He was still feeling aftershocks from his orgasm as he hurriedly put on his pants. He could feel Patuk’s awkward stare, glaring at him for not getting his clothes on quickly enough. Timmy was unsure of what had just happened. “Was, uh… was that okay? Is that what you always do?”

Patuk scowled. “You have your massage, sir. Please leave.”

“Oh, I just-“ Timmy started towards the door. His pants were on, but he still carried his shoes and his socks, and his shirt was draped over his shoulders.

“Hush. You may return if you wish,” Patuk said. “Ask for Patuk.” He shoved Timmy outside and slammed the door shut. Timmy was so shocked he stood there for a moment, then headed towards the front door.

Mrs. Donnelly, Patuk is ready to see you now.

Mrs. Donnelly was a plump, yet still attractive white woman with dark hair and a thick ass. Timmy was sure that was who she was because she hurried back as soon as the clerk said her name, and she had a slightly embarrassed blush on her face as though wondering if everyone here knew what went on in the backroom.

He smiled. He was so surprised by what had happened that he hadn’t noticed until now that his shoulders felt better. He grinned. He’d have to get another massage from Patuk next time his shoulders felt that way. He was glad he’d found a good masseur here in Anchorage.

And you thought this town would be boring…

The Bimbofication of Wing Mao

Here’s the entirety of The Bimbofication of Wing Mao, a new tale of hardcore interracial AW/WM bimbo action! It’s part of the Bimbofication of Woman series, and is available in The Bimbofication of Woman, Vol. 2!

Wing Mao was in the library, and for the first time in a long time, she couldn’t study. Normally she remembered everything she read, and she read plenty. She’d gotten through her first three years of college in only two years on that brain, all while playing cello in the university orchestra as well.

But today — and increasingly on recent days — Wing had trouble concentrating because she kept running into him. He was Delroy Hopkins, a blond god, rugby jock and broad-shouldered hunk who made Wing’s mouth water.

She had never had a real crush on a guy. She’d seen guys she thought were hot, but Wing was always too serious to have a heart-stopping, shrieking-hot, life-consuming crush even when all her friends did in middle school.

But lately every time she saw Delroy, Wing wanted to beg him to give her just one kiss. It was all she could think about when he was nearby. She was too scared to ever ask, or even to speak to him about any topic.

“Man, how much of this do I gotta learn?!” he said with a scowl aimed at the bespectacled nerd beside him — seemingly a tutor. Delroy sighed and leaned back. “It’s a nice day, I wanna go to the beach.”

“You have to learn all of it, the test is tomorrow,” said the squeaky-voiced tutor.

Delroy sighed again and looked up. For the first time ever, he made eye contact with Wing, who blushed but couldn’t turn her head away. Delroy smiled at her. There was a flash of recognition. Did he notice that they had seen each other around campus on many occasions? Or was he too oblivious? Guys as sexy as him probably just didn’t register sad-faced nerds like her, Wing thought as she pretended not to notice his eye contact.

He looked back down at the book. Wing was overwhelmed by every feeling in the book — lust, love, fear, loneliness, envy, rage, sadness — all at once. She closed her laptop, gathered her books and darted out of the library so quick it attracted attention.

She didn’t care. She couldn’t be near him anymore. Her face was bright red, and her pussy was wetter than it had ever been. She ran towards the beach, just a few blocks from the campus library. The GHU-San Diego campus went right up to the beach.

When she got there, she felt faint and ducked into the first nice-looking establishment she saw. It was a bar, but it was early so few people were there. It was not crowded and reasonably clean, and she felt safe there.

She took a deep breath. She took out her cell phone to make it look like she was trying to make a phone call, but she had no one to call. She was utterly alone.

There was a fortune-telling machine against the wall. It was just a ceramic Gypsy woman, and a box where you could put a quarter in. It said it would tell you your future.

A trio of sexy Asian college girls came in. Ohmigod, you are such a dumb whore! There were dressed like sluts, and they giggled like blondes, and they had makeup, tits, skirts that ended just below the labia. Where did those guys go? Aren’t they such idiots?! Wing was jealous, even if she felt bad about being jealous. They could have gotten Delroy in a heartbeat. They could have gotten any man.

They were looking for someone, someone who wasn’t there after all, so they left. Wing watched their bubble-butts walk out, and she listened to their hot-chick giggling while they discussed where to go next to look for their boyfriends, or whichever guys they were currently pursuing.

Wing had never in her life done something irrational. As soon as she realized that, she wanted more than anything to put money in that fortune-telling machine. She rarely had change on her, but tonight, she happened to have a quarter. It was only twenty-five cents.

She slid it into the box. The Gypsy woman whirred, and the mechanics within it clanged. There was a puff of smoke. A sound emerged, like a dying robot. She didn’t know if it was supposed to act like this or if it was broken.

But then a slip of paper was printed out the bottom. She took it and read it.

Congratulations, Wing Mao, you have won a wish! Choose wisely! You have five seconds or the wish will be gone forever!

Wing’s heart skipped a beat. The rational part of her mind wondered how the machine knew her name, and wondered why it gave her a wish instead of telling the future as the marketing indicated. But she had only paid the machine in the first place due to the irrational part of her mind, the same part that made her come in this bar in the even firster place because her crush on Delroy was so irrational it was nearly trumpian. So the rational part of her mind was not in control of anything at this moment, which Wing was strangely fine with — she didn’t want to use logic or reason. She didn’t want to make sense. She wanted Delroy. She wanted her wish.

Even as her intelligence debated what to do, that irrational part of her mind took much less than five seconds to make a wish.

I wish to be a bimbo, like those sluts, just for one day.

Angry with herself at wasting a quarter, she hurried onto the street. She didn’t want anyone to see that she had paid for a fortune from a machine. She threw the paper away, not noticing that the writing on it had disappeared after her five seconds were up.

She stumbled down the street and giggled at herself. She righted her legs. Am I… taller? She felt taller.

Why am I wearing heels? Why am I walking successfully in heels?

She didn’t even own heels. She didn’t own them because she couldn’t walk in them, but all of a sudden she wore stiletto heels and she wore them so well she could have danced a ballet in them. Her sweatshirt and jeans were gone too, replaced by a low-cut sapphire-blue dress that showed off her cleavage.

A passing storefront with a reflective window proved what had happened: the fortune-telling machine worked. She looked like a hot, slutty Asian chick, like one of those girls from the bar, like someone who would be popular, like someone Delroy Hopkins might screw.

Again, the rational part of her mind formulated a very sensible plan, but her bimbo mind ignored it. She knew what she wanted to do, and it wasn’t go back to the bar and investigate the machine. It wasn’t check to see whether the “magic” had simply changed her hair, makeup and clothes or if it had actually made her tits and ass bigger, her thighs and waist smaller and her cheekbones more pronounced. The rational part of her mind whirred with questions. What would happen if I paid another quarter? Could I have wished for a million wishes? Will this wish backfire?

But Wing didn’t want to listen to that rational part of her mind. She had something else in mind.

When she got to the library, Delroy was there, leaning back in his chair. No one wore stiletto heels and a skimpy dress to the library, so every single person there turned to stare, jaw agape.

She walked right to Delroy, whose wide-eyed stare was enough to make Wing giggle like a skank. It was obvious what he was going to say before she even asked her question.

“Hi. Do you want to come with me?” she asked.

Delroy jumped over himself to say yes, not even asking who she was or where she wanted to take him. He pushed his tutor out of the way and left his books behind as he hurried to her side. Wing giggled and took hold of his belt, which he had dangling between his legs like a cock. She pulled on it and guided him away, into the back of the library.

There was a room there she knew of. The library put books needing to be reshelved there. The shelving guys — they were mostly high schoolers doing community service — only worked during the day, so no one would be there now.

It was just a small closet with a table, crowded high with textbooks. She brought him in there, hopped up on the table and smiled. “Delroy, I want you to fuck me.”

“How do you know my name?”

“Magic,” she said. She kissed him on the lips. He hesitated like he wanted to ask for more information, but didn’t want to ruin the situation. She smiled and kissed him again. “Would you believe me if I said it was an ancient Chinese secret?”

He gulped. “Not really…” It didn’t seem like he cared too much though.

At first, he was surprised by how quickly this happened that his hands stayed limp, his mouth not reacting to her kiss. But then his instincts kicked in as her tits brushed over his chest. He moved his head, his tongue planted into hers, and his hands gripped her delicate shoulders.

He let out a little roar and shoved all those books off the table. He grinned, his deep-dimpled cheeks making Wing’s heart swoon. She wanted him so badly.

“You’re the sexiest chick on this campus,” he said. He bit his lip. “I really like you a lot-“

“Oh, Delroy, you barely know me,” Wing said with a blushing giggle.

“I know… But I can tell,” he said, and it really seemed like he meant it. “You’re so special to me, even if we don’t know each other yet. We will. I can sense the future, you know. I’m a bit of a fortune-teller myself. It’s not an ancient Chinese secret, but it’s… I think we might be together for a long time, miss… whoever you are.” His broad chest heaved nervously. That made Wing excited because she never thought tiny, delicate Wing Mao might make a huge stud like him so exhilarated he lost his breath just kissing her.

He took off his shirt, and Wing lost herself again, kissing his throbbing chest muscles. Her tongue traced a line up to his neck, which smelled like days-old cologne. Her fingers undid his belt, and his jeans plopped to the floor.

Somehow her dress came off. Wing hadn’t put it on, so she didn’t even know how to take it off, but it seemed Delroy figured it out. Wing was too overwhelmed by passion to even notice, not until her bare skin puckered in the chilly library air.

His kisses traveled down her body. He kissed her neck, her breasts, his lips roaming down her flat belly and round hips. She moaned, and for once, the sound that came out wasn’t an unappealing frog-like grunt but a low slow-burning moan of sheer pleasure that made Delroy moan in sync with her.

In the tiny library closet, their voices resonated and echoed, forming a coccoon of their own lust. She was surprised to see him lower his head, his tongue going to her womanhood without her prompting him to do it.

Her entire body tightened and crooned as his tongue hit her clitoris. A bolt of pleasure shot up her spine. She clutched his powerful shoulders and back muscles, and writhed as his tongue explored her body.

He plunged into her pussy, then back up to her sensitive clit, which raged and sang and pulsated beneath his ministrations. He lapped at her as though his life depended on it, his easygoing-jock attitude replaced by eager solicitude.

“Are you ready?” he asked breathlessly.

He didn’t need to specify what he was asking after. She nodded and leaned back. She spread her legs. He stood up, and she got her first look at his hefty thick cock.

He placed his dick right on the surface of her pussy and held it there with a smile on his face. “You want it in you, baby?”


“You sure?!”

“Yes, please! Fuck me, Delroy! I’ve been watching you for so long, I need you!”

He grinned broadly and did it. His cock sunk into her body, and Wing moaned again. Her fingers dug into his meaty shoulders, as her blood turned to pure lust in her veins. The sounds they made together grew so loud Wing was sure people outside the room would be able to hear.

Wing could see it on his face when her words sunk in — she had accidentally implied she’d been watching him for a long time — he looked momentarily worried that she might be a stalker. But then he moaned as a pang of pleasure shot up his spine, and he ignored his confusion.

Instead he fucked her harder, ramming his dick in her pussy now that it was clear she could take it. Each motion of his powerful hips made Wing feel it throughout her body, every part of her tightening and relaxing in sync with his gyrations. His muscles tensed, and she threw her head back, unable to suppress a loud shout as pre-orgasmic bliss wracked her body.

He kissed her again. “Baby…” he said with a blush. “You, uh… you really like me, right?”

“Of course!” she said, so aroused she was almost ready to cry. It felt like her entire body was about to shatter, like she couldn’t take any more pleasure and one more good stroke from his dick would be enough to make her fall into a million little pieces of orgasmic bimbo-confetti filtering to the floor.

“You wanna really show how much you like me?”

“Yes! Oh god, yes!”

“Can I stick it in your ass?” he asked. Then before she could answer, he leaned in and moaned into her ear. “You’re so beautiful, baby, I need you. I need every part of you. I gotta have you, please say yes, I need to be inside you.”

“Yes! Oh fuck, hell yes!” she moaned, so aroused right now she didn’t even need to think about it. She wanted it so bad she could cry.

He grinned and kissed her. “Thank you, baby, you’re the best. You’re the sexiest chick in the world.”

She giggled. He pulled out of her pussy, and Wing felt a brief loneliness at the lack of stimulation. Her womanhood felt empty and unloved. But that lasted for only a moment.

Delroy pulled her ass right up to the edge of the table, and he even used a thin Accounting 101 workbook to prop her hips up a little bit. That bared her ass and forced her cheeks apart.

Wing had never had anal sex. She’d never even thought about actually doing it. But she had never wanted anything as much as she wanted this right now.

Her legs in the air, toes curling as though she could grip his shoulders with them, Wing bit her lip. She felt an intense onrush of pressure in her ass. She held her breath.

“Oh, baby, your ass is so good,” he said. His eyes closed and he took deep breaths like this hurt for him more than her.

But the pain was actually very dim and distant. There was a twinge of pleasure as well, and even though that pain was objectively stronger, all Wing’s mind could focus on was the growing chorus of bliss welling up inside her. It was her ass, on fire, tight and soft, moist, full, empty, potent and weak, pounded away at and made tender love to all at once.

She tried to grab for his chest, to massage and knead those bulging muscles. But her arms were too short, his chest too far except when he was at his apogee, all the way inside her ass, and then her fingers could glancingly get ahold of his chest. She tweaked his nipples and felt his muscles roiling beneath her grasp.

Had she even taken his entire cock within her? She couldn’t tell. She wanted to feel it, to feel his manhood and see how much was left outside her ass.

But when she tried to move her hands, all she could do was flail uselessly. The sensations boiling over from inside her were too intense to focus on anything else. All she managed was to moan and grunt and spit and squirm like a wild animal.

And then she felt him slide the last of his dick into her. She didn’t need to use her hands, she could sense that that was it. They became like one beast, rutting wildly, writhing in each other’s arms.

Wing’s body moved uncontrollably while she reacted to the sensations around and within her. Every part of her body tingled and shook. She bit her lip so hard she drew blood, while his blond jock body turned ruddy as he reached his own orgasm.

It all ended at once, and the most intense sensations of her life overwhelmed her. Her thin, delicate bimbo body shook like a beat-up old car shedding parts as it barreled down the road. Her tits vibrated beneath his tongue, her sensitive nipples sending shockwaves of pleasure up her spine.

She had no idea how long that orgasm lasted. She was only aware that it was done — sweat streaming down her body in rivulets, fingers tightened into claws that drew a few drops of blood from his chest — because someone knocked on the door. The sound snapped her out of her stupor.

Hey, uh… the librarian just called security, whoever’s in there. You should probably… Well… Just to let you know, security is coming. Whoever was there on the other side of the door chuckled. I mean… security is “traveling to this location”, not cumming.

Wing blushed. Her face was already red from sexual exertion, but now she blushed on top of that. The closet stank of sex. She would have gladly stayed there with Delroy forever.

But he pulled out of her. Tremendous relief flooded her ass, and she could feel juices trickling out of her body. She moaned again. She bit her lip and hopped off the table.

“Wow,” he said. “Thanks a lot for that. That was… crazy. Can I have your phone number?”

She giggled but didn’t answer. She bent over to display her ass to him as she grabbed her clothes. She shook her ass in his direction, and he stopped with his pants halfway up in the air. He growled at the sight of her jiggling asscheeks. He massaged her flesh, but then she giglged and pulled her ass away.

“Damn, you are amazing,” he said. “Please be my girlfriend?”

“Delroy… I don’t know if I’m that kind of girl,” she said. “I don’t always act like this.” She slipped her dress back on. He retightened his belt and put his shoes on. His bare, muscular chest was still shirtless, a few beads of sweat clinging to his flesh.

“I don’t care how you act usually,” he said. “Just be with me. Here.” He ripped out a page from a textbook and wrote his phone number on it. “You can call me too.” He paused, then added some more letters and numbers. “And here’s my email address and my screennames on Yahoo, Facebook and AOL instant messaging. And here’s my dad’s landline number, that’s where I’ll be on vacation from school. Oh, and here’s my street address and my frat’s address. They have a landline too but I don’t remember the number-“

“Delroy, relax, that’s fine. I have plenty of ways to contact you-“

“You can send me a postcard or something. Or call me collect, that’s fine. Is that still a thing? You can text me or… I don’t have snapchat, but I’ll get it-“

“Delroy, shut up.” She giggled. His lips slammed shut. She kissed him. “I’ll call you,” she said. “I’ll call you when I’m ready for another go.”

The door opened suddenly, and two dour security guards glared. They both looked a little upset at first, as though they had expected to see two fat library nerds making out. They were relieved to see two sexy people, who weren’t even naked. It must have stank like sex though, Wing thought with a giggle.

“What are you two doing in here? Why is your shirt off, young man?”

Wing laughed out loud. She grabbed that Accounting 101 workbook. “I was just looking for this book, for my class. I’m studying to be an accountant.” Delroy chuckled to himself as though it was impossible for hot chicks to become accountants. Wing smiled at the security guards. “Delroy here was just helping me find it. He’s so helpful.”

Delroy smiled too. He ran his fingers through his thick blond hair. “That’s true. I am helpful. I took my shirt off because… Her dad’s a dermatologist, I wanted her to see this mole I had and send him a photo. Skin cancer is a serious problem.”

“That’s true. Don’t worry though, Delroy, my dad said it looks benign,” she said.

“Phew. Thanks, ma’am. I’m going to put my shirt on and do my homework now! I’m excited about responsible behavior!” Delroy said with a wide grin. He put his shirt on and pushed out past the two security guards, who glared at him. When Wing walked out, they moved out of the way to make room for her.

When she was out in the hallway, she moved towards the exit, while Delroy walked back into the library itself. The two security guards went into the closet to put the books back on the table Delroy had knocked them off of.

That meant she had a few more seconds to connect with him. He walked backwards, bumping into a book-cart and smiling at her, beaming like he was shocked about what had happened. He held up one hand to wave, while his other grabbed his crotch, cock outlined briefly by his clothes.

“Bye, baby!” he yelled so loud the other library patrons turned to look at him.

Wing blushed like she was still shy, but she wasn’t. She just pretended because she knew it was sexy to be demure. She waved back after him, then turned around and walked out the door into the chilled night air.

She didn’t know how long this bimbofication magic was going to last, but she intended to have as much fun as possible while it did.

European Trade: The Frenchman

Here’s the entirety of European Trade: The Frenchman, a hot new story by Gavin Rockhard! Beware: this tale of gay erotica contains a baguette!

Kyle didn’t discover that the men were lumberjacks and that they were on strike until much later. When he happened upon them, they appeared to be a couple dozen of the most muscular men he had ever seen, lounging around, drinking coffee and looking nonchalant when pretty girls walked by. It was a very sedate strike.

Kyle was here in France — visiting from his native Canada — in order to taste the masculine fruit of the country. And there was no sweeter fruit than these lumberjacks. Their muscles bulged against the black and white-striped shirts they wore, with low v-necks that showed off their strapping chest muscles.

One, in particular, attracted Kyle’s gaze. He was tall, broad-shouldered, mustached and grizzle-chinned, with a tattoo of a French flag visible on his chest and one of Marianne on his left bicep, which was bare beneath a sleeveless shirt.

“Bonjour,” Kyle said. He knew his French was good, if Quebecois-accented. “Je m’appelle Kyle.”

The man grunted. He screwed up his nose when Kyle sat next to him at the little cafe table. He looked like he was about to say something, but then a pretty middle-aged woman walked by, gabbing on her cell phone. The man watched her with intent interest.

“I would like to pay you money,” Kyle said. He blushed, momentarily at a loss for words as the man glared at him.

“I am on strike,” he said.

“No, no, I’m not going to pay you for your job, I have something special in mind,” Kyle said. “I want you to come back to my hotel room. I’ll pay you five hundred euros.”


“Five hundred euros. You just come back to my hotel room, and… y’know, let me do some stuff.”


“You know…”

“You show me,” he said as though he had a good guess and simply wanted confirmation. He frowned. “Under table.”

Kyle looked among the other lumberjacks, who smoked cigarettes and lazed like they were taking the day off instead of striking. One of them looked at the man as though he wanted to know what was happening, but he did not ask.

Shivering with fear and anticipation, Kyle dove underneath the cafe table. Tourists walked by, sneaking glances at him. The man wore blue pants made of some thick fabric; back in Canada, Kyle would have guessed they were Dickies but he wasn’t sure if that was a thing in France. He didn’t what he was expected to do, but he stuck his head between the man’s legs and kissed his cock.

“Tu es sale.”

The man wore no underwear. His massive, limp dick was palpable beneath the fabric of his pants. He laughed a deep, baritone boom when Kyle kissed his dick. When he laughed, his dick twitched.

The man stood up, and Kyle crawled out from underneath the table. The man stood there. He lit a cigarette. When Kyle stood near him, the man pointed to the ground. He ashed right on Kyle’s head.

“Crawl,” he said. He didn’t wait for an answer. He just turned around and walked away, and Kyle got down on all fours. He followed after him, keeping his head up and as close as he could get, so he could smell the man’s thick asscheeks.

He didn’t leave the cafe. He walked to the counter, and Kyle blushed intensely. The pretty girl clerk looked at him with a curious expression as she sold the man a baguette. She smiled flirtatiously at him, and she called him Hugo.

Hugo smiled at her. “Tu es très jolie,” he said. He kissed her on the lips, and she swooned into his arms.

For a moment, Kyle thought he was forgotten, that Hugo was going to take this girl into the men’s room and fuck her. But the girl pushed him away. She squealed and slapped him lightly, though she laughed and blushed as though she was happy to have kissed him despite the slap.

Hugo left her with a shrug, like he didn’t care that she had rejected him. He returned to his table, grabbed the beret he had left there, finished his coffee and walked off. He didn’t glance behind him at Kyle, who scampered after him.

“I thought we’d go to my hotel room. I’ll suck your dick and lick your asshole and you can fuck me,” Kyle said. “I’ll do anything you want. Five hundred euros.”


“Okay. Thanks, Hugo,” Kyle said. “My hotel is-“

“Non,” he said. He stopped walking. They were in the cafe’s backyard. It didn’t appear to be used very often, but it was maintained. It was a small grassy plot that faced a cobblestoned alley. There was a row of shrubs that prevented anyone from seeing fully in, but the yard was not concealed — no one could see anything roughly below Hugo’s waist. Of course, people in the cafe’s kitchen could see through a window, but it seemed Hugo didn’t much care about that.

Hugo took off a hunk of the baguette with his teeth. He loudly munched on it, while Kyle settled on his knees in front of Hugo’s body. His face was just inches from Hugo’s crotch.

“Is it… do you want me to just…?”

“Suck,” Hugo said, his mouth full of bread. Crumbs landed on Kyle’s face. “Sucer.”

Kyle unzipped Hugo fly and pulled his pants down. He wasn’t wearing underwear, so his thick cockshaft popped right out. It hit Kyle in the face, making Hugo laugh.

“You have a big dick.”

“Oui,” Hugo said. His face was flat and expressionless. He puffed on the cigarette in one hand, then took another bite of the baguette. His burgundy beret almost fell off his head.

Kyle kissed his cocktip again. It twitched just like before, but now Kyle could taste the musty smell of his sweat. His uncut cock tasted something like a vineyard, Kyle thought, not the wine part, but the unused mash, the waste left over after making wine — he had gone on a tour of a real French vineyard before he found Hugo. It was musty and sweet and strong, and it made Kyle’s dick hard.

“Colette,” Hugo said. His voice was as grim and flat as his face. Kyle didn’t know what he meant at first, but then Hugo repeated it. “Colette.” He took a few steps closer to the window that faced the cafe’s kitchen. Kyle had to scramble after him to stay in front of his still-limp cock. That placed Kyle up against the ancient brick wall of the cafe, while Hugo’s big body filled the open window into the kitchen. “Colette.”

That pretty waitress from inside walked in there from the cafe. She scoffed at Hugo. “Eh, Hugo, go away, I am busy.”

From her position in the kitchen, she couldn’t see that Hugo’s dick was out, and she couldn’t see that Kyle was letting that entire shaft drop into his mouth. He suckled on it, as passionately as he could without making much noise. He wasn’t sure if Hugo was deliberately hiding the blowjob from Colette, but he didn’t want to make more attention than he had to — he didn’t even really want this to be public, that wasn’t something Kyle liked. He would have rather taken Hugo into a hotel room and had his way with him.

“I have written a poem,” Hugo said. His dick was beginning to get hard now that Colette was paying attention to him.

She blushed and laughed again. She waved him off, but she also moved closer, washing dishes near enough to the window that she could hear him.

“Let me see your breasts,” he said. His cock throbbed in Kyle’s mouth. “Or just one. They are so beautiful, they are like poems of the flesh. My words can never be as inspired as they are.”

She undid her blouse, and let one of her tits fly free. She made it look rather casual, as though it was an accident, though she had clearly done so deliberately. Hugo lowered his head and tried to suck on her nipple, as his dick fully perked up to full erection in Kyle’s mouth.

“Hush, Hugo, I am married,” she said. She took her breast away and covered it up. “Let me hear your poem.”

He straightened his back. His dick twitched in Kyle’s mouth, and he lit another cigarette. He exhaled the smoke away from the cafe. He put the baguette down on a table that sat out back — it had a wobbly leg, so it tottered when he put the baguette on it. His heavy, hairy balls rested on Kyle’s chin, dripping sweat onto him while the first few drops of salty precum hit his tongue.

You are pretty like Paris

When it lights up at night

You are an oasis of illumination

In a desert of night-time

You are where the camel drinks at last

Before it dies

Under the fierce Algerian sun

You are my canteen

The final drink

The last one I need

To die on sand, satisfied

And thirst, quenched

Vous êtes jolie comme Paris

Quand il allume la nuit

Vous êtes une oasis d’illumination

Dans un désert de nuit

Vous êtes là où le chameau boit enfin,

Avant qu’il ne meurt

Sous le soleil algérien féroce

Vous êtes ma cantine

La boisson finale

La dernière que je dois

Pour mourir sur le sable, satisfait

Et la soif, trempé

She blushed and smiled. “That is very pretty, Hugo,” she said. She patted him on the muscular belly beneath his lumberjack’s shirt. His skin puckered at her touch, and his dick twitched. She bared her tit again for him, making him growl with desire. She covered it back up with a giggle. “But you did tell the same poem to Maria last week. She has told me about it.”

Hugo’s mouth opened but no words came out. His deep voice rumbled. He had obviously not meant to get caught at this. She laughed at his reaction, then turned around and walked away.

“Damn it!” Hugo snorted when she was gone. “Merde!” The kitchen was empty.

He pistoned his hips before Kyle could react. That pushed his entire cock down Kyle’s throat. Kyle choked and spasmed, and his own dick leaked precum into his fingers. His head banged painfully into the wall behind him.

He slathered spit all along the shaft, coughing up so much saliva it dripped in clumps. Hugo’s muscles bulged beneath his black-and-white striped shirt, which had a few dark spots now where he sweated through it.

Kyle’s hands stretched up to Hugo’s chest, slipping under that shirt to massage his hairy muscles. He had a thick nest of fur there on his torso, which Kyle loved. He wished he could get up and lick his chest clean, but he had a feeling Hugo would not allow that.

As Kyle groped Hugo, Hugo groped as well — his hands slipped into the window, where he felt around until he found a cheese plate. He pulled it out. The smell of funky cheese filled the air, overpowering even the precum and sweat scent of Hugo’s cock.

As he pumped his hips, fucking Kyle’s face, Hugo ignored his choking and his frenzied sucking. He just grabbed the baguette he had half-eaten, and he made himself a cheese sandwich, just by ripping off hunks of bread and cheese. He ate it vociferously, crumbs landing all over Kyle and even on Hugo’s dick so Kyle could taste the bread and the sour cheese.

All of a sudden, Hugo pulled off Kyle’s face. He jammed the baguette into Kyle’s face as though trying to make him deepthroat that as well. He laughed cruelly when the baguette just left crumbs all over Kyle’s cheeks.

“Lick my ass. Lécher mon cul.”

Then he turned around. His asscheeks were big and plump and tanned brown. They were hairy, but not extremely so, they were just hairy enough for Kyle. He dove his face between those cheeks.

Hugo grunted like he was surprised. Kyle loved licking ass though, so he enthusiastically lapped at the sweat that trickled between Hugo’s cheeks. His body was big and plump, so his ass was juicy. Kyle’s entire face fit between those delicious cheeks. He sucked every inch of Hugo’s funky hole.

His eyes and his nose were covered by sexy manmeat, but Kyle could hear that something was happening. Hugo shifted his weight a little, like he faced a different direction now. Hugo said something and laughed — was that aimed at Kyle? He couldn’t tell.

Eventually Kyle had to come up for air. He was still pinned between the wall and Hugo’s big ass, but he could see just barely that there was a white-faced mime in the alley. He must have been walking by and seen Hugo getting his ass licked.

Now the mime was bent over, leaning against the fence with his ass in the air. He wiggled his ass like a dog trying to scratch an itch. That made Hugo laugh, and Kyle joined in — the mime was making fun of them. He was in the same position as Hugo, moving his ass as though an invisible man licked it.

Kyle licked all the way from the top of Hugo’s ass, right at the small of his back, down his asscrack, over his hole and through the funky hair of his taint. Kyle’s head appeared on the other side of his body, where Kyle swallowed his heavy ballsac.

Hugo grunted. He lifted his balls up, then plopped them back in Kyle’s mouth a few times.

Sensing that Hugo was ready to move on, Kyle stood up, very slowly, keeping his tongue out so he licked Hugo’s cockshaft then all the way up his chest and over that black-and-white striped shirt he still wore.

He nearly managed to lick all the way up to Hugo’s face so he could kiss him on the lips — Kyle thought some straight European men would be willing to tolerate that — but Hugo roughly pushed his face away. Probably because his tongue had been inside Hugo’s ass just seconds ago, Kyle thought.

Oh well, that was okay with him. He knew what he wanted to do next. He dropped his own pants to bare his ass, while Hugo watched. He reached into the kitchen again, this time pulling out a bottle of red wine and a glass. He poured himself a drink. He laughed at the mime who mimicked everything Hugo did.

The mime finished his invisible wine and smashed the invisible glass on the road. Then he grabbed an invisible ass and pretended to fuck it, making Hugo laugh some more. The mime was really very good, Kyle thought.

As Hugo actually bent Kyle over for real, the mime beckoned for someone. Kyle blushed as he realized he was about to have an audience.

He bit his lip and threw his head back as Hugo rammed his dick in without a word of warning. He didn’t use any lube at first, but he started to spit on his cockshaft once he felt resistance. The pain in Kyle’s ass was extraordinary, and he moaned in both desire and agony.

It turned out the mime beckoned a musician, an accordionist who laughed when he saw Hugo fucking Kyle. The accordionist began playing musette music, which made the entire experience seem almost romantic to Kyle. The crooning accordion filled the air, covering up the sound of Kyle’s gasping as he accepted more and more of Hugo’s meat.

“Ooh la la,” Kyle said through his moans. His prostate came alive and sent tingles through his body. His pleasure grew in waves with every touch of Hugo’s cock inside him.

Hugo’s sausage-like fingers grabbed ahold of Kyle’s back and held on. His dick was all the way in Kyle’s ass now, his balls slapping against Kyle’s thighs. Kyle squirmed. Hugo grunted.

The tune coming from the accordion changed to a new song. Kyle recognized it but he couldn’t place it at first. He was too overwhelmed by sensations from deep within him to think about it.

It was only when Hugo began singing that Kyle recognized the words and placed it to the tune — it was “La Marseillaise”, the national anthem of France. It was a bloody, martial song and, despite the romance of the accordion, that atmosphere shone through because Hugo sang it with his deep, baritone voice, crackling, booming, pumping his biceps and his pecs on the accented words. He sounded like a soldier marching off to war, Kyle thought, covering up his own moans so he didn’t overpower the sound of Hugo singing.

At last an orgasm ran through Kyle’s body. He loved cumming with a straight man’s cock in his ass because it always made the straight man react — Hugo stopped singing for a moment. He grumbled, then groaned in surprise as Kyle’s asshole clenched around his cock.

When Hugo began to gyrate his hips again, the pain was worse than ever on account of Kyle’s orgasm-tightened ass. That didn’t last long, however, as the smell of cum filled the air, crowding out the bleu cheese and wine that still lingered, and the passion of Hugo’s fucking made Kyle relax

Now he shuddered, aftershocks of his orgasm wracking his body. He was fully limp though, barely able to remain on all fours in front of Hugo, with his ass in the air and his head on the ground.

Since Kyle no longer jacked himself off, Hugo could — and did — treat him like a ragdoll. He held onto Kyle’s asscheeks tightly, riding him, grinding his dick inside Kyle’s body as though he needed to fuck every inch of Kyle’s innards. He grunted out a few indecipherable French syllables.

Once he finished his wine, he smashed the delicate glass on Kyle’s back. A few shards of glass sprayed onto the ground at Kyle’s feet, and the slight twinge of pain made Kyle writhe. The smell of wine was strong now. Kyle squirmed but Hugo kept a tight grip on his body.

“I will drown your ass now,” Hugo said with a broken moan. “Je vais noyer ton cul maintenant…”He slapped Kyle’s cheeks and watched them ripple. His own muscles flexed and rippled as well, as an orgasm washed over his body.

His lit cigarette fell out of his mouth and landed on Kyle’s back, scorching him briefly before it rolled off him and fell onto the ground. He yelped a little, as the pain reawakened the exquisite sensations in his asshole.

Hugo fucked relentlessly, still breaking into the words of “La Marseillaise” every few seconds as the accordionist continued the song (or maybe started it over, Kyle couldn’t tell). Hugo grunted and roared as he fucked, and cum spurted out of his uncut cock.

It filled up Kyle’s ass, dripping into every corner of his body. He shot so much that some of it slipped out his ass, coating his butt and his inner thighs in creamy goodness. It was hot and thick, and it made Kyle moan when he felt wad after wad of semen land on his prostate.

He squirmed. He moved his ass back and forth, fucking himself with Hugo’s dick. Hugo stood perfectly still. He lit yet another cigarette as he still moaned with the power of his own orgasm.

“Ooh la la…” Hugo murmured with a dry, throaty chuckle.

Then his dick was perfectly limp. Kyle pulled off him and sighed. The most incredible relief of his life flooded his body now that his ass was empty. He turned around and dove his face between Hugo’s lumberjack arm and his body. As Hugo breathed heavily, and the mime and accordionist walked away, Kyle licked all the sweat that had collected there in Hugo’s damp armpit.

At last it was over. Hugo flopped his limp dick between his fingers, and he wiped his shaft off with the last little bit of baguette. He rammed the crusty, ass-and-cum-soaked bread into Kyle’s mouth, laughing when it made Kyle cough and choke.

He pulled his pants up, took a drag off his cigarette, then glanced towards the street. There was a pretty girl walking past, and Hugo’s eyes lit up.

“Money,” Hugo said. “Argent, maintenant.”

Kyle had forgotten he hadn’t actually paid yet. He pulled out his wallet, carefully counted out five hundred euros and handed it over. Hugo took it, nodded, then took the rest of the cash out of Kyle’s wallet. He pushed Kyle away and walked out to the main street, calling after the pretty girl.

“Antoinette! Antoinette! Attends-moi!”

Finally left alone, Kyle sighed. He pulled his own pants up and leaned against the fence. Inside the cafe’s kitchen, Colette had returned with a plate of dirty dishes. He wrinkled her nose at Kyle as though she either thought he was homeless or knew he was a tourist and didn’t like them.

But she didn’t tell him to leave the yard, so Kyle just stayed there, smelling the wine, bleu cheese and cum, the combined scent of which would forever make him think of France and the sexiest French stud he had ever met.

He smiled. This European tour, he thought, was going to be even better than he had hoped.

Ice Hockey Jocks

Here’s the beginning of Ice Hockey Jocks, a hot new story by Ricky Chandler!


I couldn’t believe that I was actually on the team now. It was something that I wanted for my whole life. I had wanted to be part of the Newtown Knicks. They were always the most popular hockey team and ever since I was a child, this was something that I have dreamt about. I worked my whole childhood after every day in school practicing and learning how to skate. After I learned how to skate I quickly picked up a stick and started Peter pattering a puck around the rink. My dad would stay late and help skate with me. He would be equally and I would shoot goals on him constantly. During high school I quickly built up my skills, I became the MVP of our team. During the varsity sports I brought our team to the championships. I progressed even further in college. At college, I managed to escalate my skills even further. We were a number one ranked team and we were dominating our field. During my senior year of college I was scouted by the top agents out there. And I had my pick of the litter of which team I wanted to join.


Of course, the team that I decided to join was the Newtown Nick’s. I did it for the money, yes, but, I also did it because that was my favorite team. In fact, they weren’t even offering me the most money. The Westside Patriots offered double the money that these guys were offering but I wanted to go with the team that I respected the most.


Introduction to the team.


On the first day I went down to the ice rink where they practiced, I wore a tank top and brought my gear with me in the bag. I made sure that I looked fresh and clean, I wanted to give a good impression to all the guys. I saw them standing there practicing and also standing watching the practice. And then I tripped as I walked towards the rink. There was a stair that I didn’t see. As I tripped every single one of the members of the team saw me and they started laughing. My face turned bright red as a tomato. I quickly regrouped grabbed my bag and confidently walked towards them.


“This must be one of the recruits” one of them shouted aggressively.


They all started laughing again.


I kept walking and went all the way right past them into the locker room. I put down my bag and I saw a locker with the nameplate “rookie”. I figured this was my spot.

First-Time Ganging the Whole Frat

Here’s a sample from the beginning of First-Time Ganging the Whole Frat! That’s a hot new tale of interracial f/m/m/m action at the sexiest frat party you’ll ever read about!


It was my first day at grad school and I was rather excited about all of the fun I would have. My degree was in psychology and I knew what these boys wanted to. They had been eyeing me for years and years. I had always been a good girl and never gave it up. I was definitely a virgin still. But that didn’t stop me from having all of these dirty thoughts. These dirty thoughts would always creep into my mind and consume my every thought once I lied into bed.


As I sat there in my dorm all alone. I pulled out my vibrator and I started to go to town and myself. Just because I was a virgin didn’t mean I wasn’t sexually active with myself. I knew every ounce of my body. I knew every square inch of it, and I knew how to please myself so well. I did so with great ease tonight thinking about the party that I was supposed to attend tomorrow.


I was invited to this party from an african american guy who worked at a sandwich shop. When I was getting a sandwich he was giving me the eye, and I followed up by getting his number. He told me about this fraternity party that he had tomorrow night and that was just the place that I needed to go. It was just the thing that I wanted to do the start of this new school year, and I always had a thing for black guys since I was a petite white women.


All of this anticipation I had regarding this party tomorrow night was building me up to quite a climax. My vibrator was quick to bring me to the first orgasm. I then reached my hand down and tasted my juices. My juice tonight tasted rather good, a little sweet actually.

The Flight Attendant: First-Time Straight to Gay

Here’s a sample from the beginning of The Flight Attendant: First-Time Straight to Gay, a story by Ricky Chandler, who’s new to this site!


It had been a few weeks now since I joined the airline. I always wanted to be a flight attendant and now that I was it was so fulfilling flying around the country and taking people from destination to destination. The proudest moment was when I got to put the little plastic wing badge on my pocket. Going through the training program was very rigorous.


During the training, although it was rigorous, I developed some really good friendships. All of the other guys were very well groomed and well mannered. Whenever we would go on the training events they were always there hanging out after our shift in different cities. We would walk around and see some really cool sites in the cities.


Although I had started a few weeks ago it was already time for me to graduate from my training this coming Friday. I decided I would wear one of my tight muscle shirts which was also a collared shirt. I just felt very confident that shirt and I wanted to look good.

Betsy Bright, Her Minotaur Man and His Labyrinthine Love

Here’s the first chapter of Betsy Bright, Her Minotaur Man and His Labyrinthine Love, a hot erom tale of romance, passion, lust and one incredible maze!

The only part of her job that didn’t bore Betsy Bright was looking at Mr. Tauren. He was a nearly seven foot tall stud who filled out his tailored Italian suits perfectly. He owned a mining services company, and he was one of those rare CEOs who had really worked his way up the ranks. He had begun slinging coal when he was just out of high school, and received an executive position in his early thirties.

He was impressive, not just because he was a self-made man, but also because he was black. There were very few black people anywhere in this part of Tennessee, and virtually none of them were in the coal industry. Betsy respected the hell out of Mr. Tauren.

And she lusted for him like a schoolgirl. He was broad-shouldered and muscular, with a gruff, no-nonsense manner of speaking. When he got angry with someone, like he was today, he bristled in his suit, muscles remaining tense all day as though they might jump right off his body. He was also scrupulously nice to Betsy whenever he was mad at someone else, seemingly because he worried he would be accidentally mean to her and went out of his way to be nice to avoid that.

“Betsy, I wanted to thank you for your work these days,” Mr. Tauren said. “I know I am not always an easy man to deal with.” His voice was clipped and angry.

“Oh, Mr. Tauren you’re no bully! You’re so nice! You’re easy to deal with,” Betsy said. Then she blushed, not sure if she was obvious in her crush on him.

He smiled. “Well, thank you for all your attentiveness. You can send Walter in,” he said. He was interrupted by more sirens — they had been active for the last hour or so — blaring past outside. “I wonder what’s going on…”

He went into his office then, and Betsy gave him a minute or two to settle in at his desk before nodding for Walter to enter. Walter was a mid-level manager who fidgeted in his ill-fitting suit as he sat there in the waiting room. He took a deep breath and went into the office.

Betsy smiled at him as he went by. She knew he was in trouble. That must be why Mr. Tauren was in an angry mood. Walter was about to get yelled at.

But Mr. Tauren didn’t “yell” exactly, not when he was angry. His deep rumbling voice was loud enough to be audible to Betsy, but she couldn’t make out the words. All she heard was a stentorian mumble of syllables, and Walter’s occasional pleas.

Was Walter fired? It sure sounded like he was begging for his job.

Betsy was distracted by yet more sirens. She went to the window. The cop cars were on their way to South Memphis. That much wasn’t so surprising, since South Memphis was the ghetto. But that had to be just about every cop car in the county heading there all at once. What was going on?

There was nothing on the local newspaper’s website. She was intensely curious, but before she could investigate further, Walter came out of the office. He kept his head held high, but his eyes were reddish and his face was tense — he had definitely been fired.

When Betsy saw him out, he nodded politely and left. He didn’t say anything else. It was tense and nerve-wracking for Betsy, but she felt safe since Mr. Tauren was nearby. He was very protective of her — when Betsy had said she got catcalled by a miner on the way into the office once, Mr. Tauren had left and come back an hour later dragging a miner by the ear to apologize to her.

Mr. Tauren was in his office, working out. He did that when he was bothered by something. It was always obvious what he was doing because he took off his suit — he wore workout clothes underneath — and hung the jacket up outside his office. He believed that it would pick up his sweaty scent from the air if he kept it in there with him he exercised.

Betsy was aroused by the thought of him in that t-shirt-and-track-pants look, which she had only actually seen twice. But both times, it had left her panties tingling.

She idly refreshed the browser on her computer, and shock flooded her at the sight of the updated homepage — Riots in Memphis! She gasped and clicked, her lust for Mr. Tauren forgotten.

There wasn’t much in the way of details at the moment, but over the next few hours, the story became apparent. A black man named Albert White had been shot by police this afternoon, apparently because he was mistaken for a different black man. The most alarming part of the story, for Betsy anyway, was that the riot was not really in South Memphis — it was right here. It was around the corner, or it had started there.

The chaos was all over the city. Betsy wasn’t sure it would be safe to walk back to her car. And when she went to the window, she gasped again — the riot was right there.

Two black men in masks streamed past the window, carrying something burning and possibly a gun, she couldn’t quite see. Betsy squealed at the sight of an overturned car not that much farther away.

“Walter? Get outta here! I-“ Mr. Tauren poked his head out of the office, apparently assuming that it was Walter who had caused Betsy a fright. Mr. Tauren saw Betsy look anxiously out the window and he joined her. He saw the overturned car. “What’s that? A car accident?”

“No… Well, yes,” Betsy said. “But there’s a riot.”


“A riot started a few hours ago. It’s something to do with a police shooting,” Betsy said.

“Those fuckin’ idiots… Pardon my French, ma’am.”

Betsy giggled. “I’ve got news for you, Mr. Tauren. That’s not technically French.”

He smiled. “Oh. Well, le riot est stupide. Is that better?”

“Sounds right.”

He sighed. “Well, you can’t leave.”


“That’s where your car is parked, right? You can’t get to your car, and it wouldn’t be safe for you to drive anywhere anyway. Don’t you live on Martindale? That’s not a nice neighborhood.”

“Oh, I’ll be okay.”

“I insist. I don’t want you to be afraid,” he said. “You can stay here as late as you need to tonight. Don’t clock out, I’ll pay you until it’s safe for you to go home.” He paused. “Or until tomorrow morning. Sorry, I can’t pay you forever. You know how the Board of Directors has been riding-“

“I know, Mr. Tauren, that’s fine. I can’t imagine that the riot will still be going on in the morning,” she said. “But you can’t leave either, can you?”

He took a deep breath. “I guess that’s not really safe either.” He bit his lip. “You might think I’d be safe cuz I’m a big black guy.” He waited, but Betsy wasn’t sure she could say anything that wouldn’t sound racist. “But, uh… It ain’t like that.”

“Mr. Tauren, I never thought that.”

“I look like a cop, okay?”


“They’ll say I look like a cop. I can’t take on every black guy in Memphis,” he said.

“I don’t-“

“It ain’t fair, but that’s how it is. I get accused of being a cop every time I go to South Memphis. They’ll see me and they’ll assume I’m a cop because I don’t sag my pants and I don’t have any neck tattoos, and I’m not a fat nerd or a hipster, so what else could I be but a cop?”

“A lot of things…”

“So I guess I’ll stay here too,” he said. “Just a couple hours.” He paused. “Let’s see what we have in the fridge. I’m getting hungry.”

Betsy wasn’t hungry yet. It wasn’t even technically quitting time — it was four-thirty, so it was awfully close. Betsy didn’t want to eat in front of Mr. Tauren because it would make her feel self-conscious. She wasn’t fat, but she was bigger than she wanted to be.

She had been so distracted by the riot that she barely noticed Mr. Tauren come out of his office wearing that sleeveless t-shirt. His bare arms were the size of her head. He was so tall she had to crane her neck to see his face. His body heat was palpable. He didn’t smell like sweat at all, though she did catch a whiff of his deodorant like it was working overtime.

She tried not to stare at his ass in that sheer track pants fabric as he put together some sandwiches from the small office refrigerator. Luckily Mr. Tauren was a big man who was very active, so he ate frequently and kept food there in the fridge. He had plenty of deli meat and condiments. There was no bread at all — Mr. Tauren didn’t eat carbs — but Betsy didn’t mind that so much. She ate a sandwich minus the bread, while Mr. Tauren finished his work in his office.

When five o’clock came, the riot had only gotten worse. It was starting to get national attention. There was a fire not that far away. Betsy didn’t even feel safe standing near the door anymore.

“I think these people are overreacting,” Betsy blurted out. “This isn’t going to solve police violence.” She blushed, thinking she had offended him. She looked away from him.

“I’m not offended. You’re right. It won’t solve anything in itself,” he said. “But doing nothing won’t solve anything either. The police won’t negotiate policy changes without a gun to their head. If you do put a gun to their head, they won’t negotiate with you, but they will negotiate with those more reasonable protesters they’d been ignoring until then.”

“You’re so smart, Mr. Tauren.”

“You should call me Paul.”

“Okay, Paul,” she said. She blushed. She had never called him his first name before. She shuddered as a bolt of desire ran through her.

“It looks like we’re going to have to sleep here,” Paul said. “Do you want the couch in the waiting room? That’s probably the most comfortable.”

She nodded. “Sure, that’s fine.”

He took a deep breath. “Betsy… I need to tell you something. You can’t tell anyone.”

“Of course. I signed the non-disclosure agreement to work here.”

“It’s not that. It’s… It’s not work-related,” he said. “I… I’m not actually human. Or rather, I am human, but I’m not a normal human. I’m a special kind of human.”

“What are you talking about?”

“We’re cursed. That’s what separates us from normal humans.”

“Mr. Tauren… Paul… what are you talking about?”

“I’m a minotaur.”

“A what?”

“A minotaur.”

“Is that a metaphor?”

“What? No, it’s not a metaphor,” he said. “It’s a literal description of what I am. My natural shape is a half-man, half-bull creature. I can look human, like you see me now, but only with effort. When I sleep, I will turn back to minotaur shape.”

“Mr. Tauren…”

“I will show you,” he said. “I am sorry, I will be naked.” He transformed then into a minotaur, brown muscles sprouting fur as he shot up to maybe twelve feet tall. Horns sprouted from his forehead, and his nostrils flared.

It all happened so quick that Betsy couldn’t process what was happening. She watched him change, still thinking about what he might mean — maybe the Minotaurs was the name of his favorite football team? Was it short for something? Some sort of hip hop crew? Was it a black thing?

But no, she realized, it was real. He was being literal.

A twelve foot tall minotaur stood before her. His dense fur was very real. His horns gleamed. He was naked, a massive bull-like cock dangling right in front of her — that sure looked real too. He let out a baritone roar that sent a shudder through Betsy’s body.

She wanted to go home, but she couldn’t. There was a riot out there, and she wouldn’t be able to find her way anyway. The rioters had probably changed the streets, turning them into an impassable maze. She didn’t live far away, but she could get lost, and that would be dangerous in a riot. She had to stay here with this monster.

Her heart skipped a beat. Was she really going to be here all night? Why not? Nothing had changed, had it? Of course, something had changed. But he was still Mr. Tauren. He was still the same overprotective, strong man he had always been. He was just… a minotaur.

“Here,” Paul said. He handed over a ball of string. “I want to give this to you. It will always find me. No matter where I am, the string will lead you to me.”

“Why give it to me?”

“Because if I go missing, you will likely be the first to know it,” he said. “I have no family. I have no friends.”

“Oh, Paul, that’s terrible…”

“I travel too much. This is why I travel,” he said, gesturing to his minotaur body. “Any place I stay in for too long will turn into a labyrinth.”


“It is the burden of the minotaur. The first minotaur was cursed so that no one would ever be able to find him. The curse embodied itself in a force called labyrinthium, which minotaurs exude all the time. It causes geography, and reality itself, to alter. It turns any location into a maze. If I stayed here in Memphis long enough, the entire city would become a long, winding labyrinth, and the people here would be my guardians. That would take many years. It is a slow process. But it begins very quickly.”

“That’s terrible… You poor man…” She clutched his arm, shivering at the feel of his coarse bull fur.

They were both silent then for a moment as gunshots rang out somewhere. There were young black men running past the building, carrying what appeared to be one of their friends. A trio of police officers chased after them, guns drawn. A line of blood marked the trail they had followed.

“I am glad to be stuck here with a beautiful woman,” Paul said. His minotaur voice was even deeper than his normal voice. It boomed and resonated in the office. “I can think of no one I would rather spend the night here with.”

His words hung there for a brief second. Then Betsy giggled and blushed. She hadn’t expected him to say anything like that, especially in his giant minotaur form. It felt strange

He transformed back to his human shape, and she was annoyed to see that his clothes shapechanged with him, so he wasn’t naked. She blushed even more intensely.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to be so forward. In minotaur form, I find it difficult to censor myself. Minotaurs are brutish by nature, after all.”

“So that’s how you really feel about me?”

He paused for a long time. “Yes. You are stunningly beautiful. If you weren’t my employee, I would have asked you out a long time ago.”

“Well, tonight we can’t go out, on account of the riot,” she said. “We have to stay in.” She made a kissy face, and he smiled at her. At first he didn’t kiss her, making Betsy wonder if she had done something to offend him.

But then he planted his lips on hers, and she kissed him back. She threw her hands around his broad, strapping shoulders. His muscles writhed beneath his suit.

Somehow they ended up naked. Betsy didn’t remember taking her clothes off, but it happened. All she noticed was Paul’s body above her own, his bull-like snorts and roars, his heavy breathing, his tender lips kissing every inch of her delicate frame.

When he entered her, Betsy was shocked at her own willingness to go all the way with him — she was not the kind of person to be sexually active with someone she didn’t really know well, especially not a coworker and, in this case, a boss. That was unthinkable to her, utterly unacceptable according to the rules she had set out for her own life.

But those rules were gone now. All she cared about was running her nails into the smooth skin of his back. She scratched at him as he sped up his motions, his manhood drilling deep into her with each thrust of his hips.

She rode him just as hard as he rode her. She wrapped her legs around his body and gripped his shoulders with his arms, until soon she was not even on the floor. She literally rode him as he stood up, supporting her in his powerful arms.

Betsy had never done anything like that. She had never had sex in an exotic position, but now she was on his body, humping with all her might as he passionately fucked. He easily supported her, while she continued to claw at his torso, feeling like she might fall no matter how tight a hold he kept on her.

At last her orgasm approached. Betsy could feel it gathering deep within her, reaching its crescendo bit by bit with each thrust of Paul inside her. She moaned. He grunted. His hands tightened around her, and she squealed like a calf in his arms.

Finally it was all over. Betsy let out a long, low sigh. She couldn’t believe this had happened. The sex was shocking enough, she thought, but this was with a minotaur. She didn’t know how to take that.

“Thank you, Betsy,” he said as he gently let her down to the ground.

She sighed and pulled away from him. She was dizzy at first, her knees weak. He steadied her, and they both collapsed onto the couch together.

“Oh, Paul…”

“I’m glad I told you what I am,” he said. “I… I need to have someone I can talk to about this.”

“You can talk to me about anything,” she said with a giggle. “After all, I’m your personal assistant. Let me assist you, personally.”

Str8 Till College: A Freshman Tradition

Here’s the entirety of Str8 Till College: A Freshman Tradition, a new story from the Str8 Till College series! It’s available as part of a great value megapack called The Gay College Stud Anthology!

Ethan nervously added his name to the slip of paper. He wasn’t sure he really wanted to, but he didn’t want to be the only one not doing it. He figured no one was likely to actually go through with it anyway.

There was a tradition here on the seventh floor of Mirtois Tower, a dormitory on the north side of the GHU campus in Lansing, Michigan. It was a rather unpleasant tradition in Ethan’s eyes, but he had agreed just the same so he wouldn’t be left out. He sighed as he put the slip of paper in the basket. His name sat there surrounded by the other freshmen on this floor.

Awright, loverboy! I hope I draw your ass!

Then he drew a name. He didn’t even look at it at first. It was too embarrassing. He just stuffed it in his pocket and beamed like everyone else, as though he had just won something.

Only when he scurried back to his dorm room did he peer at the piece of paper. It was Kurtis. Ethan blushed though no one was around to see it.

That slip of paper meant he was allowed to fuck Kurtis, one of his dormmates. The seventh floor of Mirtois Tower’s tradition was that, over the weekend before spring break, anyone who wanted to could put their name in a basket and pick a different name out. Whoever’s name you got, you were allowed to fuck, in the mouth or the ass — it had supposedly been tradition since the fifties.

It seemed silly to Ethan. He got horny sometimes, but he never really wanted to fuck a man no matter how horny he got. It just seemed gross, not a suitable substitute for an actual woman. He barely knew Kurtis, who had a girlfriend and had noisy sex with her on a seemingly nightly basis — it kept Ethan up sometimes — so he had no intention of going through with it.

He didn’t even know why he had written his name down, except that people had been making a big deal out of this tradition since September. He thought it was a joke at first, when the RA, Walter, mentioned it. But by the time spring break rolled around, he had realized that it was serious and that everybody in the dorm was going to do it. The only one who turned it down was Hector, a weird, nerdy devout Catholic and everyone knew he only said no because he was embarrassed of the tiny cock he had been trying to keep hidden all year.

The drawing of names was anticlimactic. After spending all week dreading this weekend, Ethan had his name — and someone had his name, though he tried not to think about that — and now it was just all over. He simply went back to his dorm and went to bed. Everyone else went out to one party or another, but Ethan was too shy and quiet to finagle an invitation.

He went to sleep. He couldn’t stop thinking about sex, but somehow he drifted off into a fitless sleep.

The door to his dorm slid open, and someone walked in. Ethan woke up suddenly, but he was confused at first. He didn’t realize what was happening.

“Yo, hey, hush up, relax,” came a familiar, deep voice.

“What? Who are you?”

“It’s Kurtis, man,” he said. Kurtis was a leanly muscled black man with a square jaw, a noble chin and a flat nose. He was an athlete and a starting player on the college basketball team, which was especially impressive since he was only a freshmen, and they rarely started on any team.

“Oh, hey.” Ethan was nervous. He knew he should have been angry with Kurtis for waltzing right into Ethan’s dormroom. He was nervous because Kurtis was the name on his slip of paper — Ethan had the “right” (or at least the traditional right) to demand a blowjob from Kurtis right now, or even anal sex. He had no intention of doing that, however.

“Yo, uh, so… You wanna fuck around on the downlow?” Kurtis asked. He grinned sheepishly in the dark.

“Uh… am I…?”

He held up his piece of paper. “Yeah. I got yo’ name, man,” he said.

Ethan chuckled nervously. “I got your name,” he said. He held up his own piece of paper.

“Well, shit, that’s convenient,” Kurtis said. He put his hands on his hips. He grabbed his dick through his basketball shorts. “You wanna like sixty-nine or somethin’?”

At the same moment he said that, Ethan said, “You wanna just not do it?” They both exchanged awkward glances at the realization that they were not on the same page. Kurtis clicked his tongue against his teeth.

“Come on, man, don’t be a squeamish prude,” he said.

“It’s kinda weird,” Ethan said. “Don’t pretend I’m strange cuz I don’t want to do it.”

“You didn’t have to do it! You didn’t have to write your name down! You could have just written down Mickey Mouse, and if you did, I’d be off in Disneyland getting laid right now!”

“I didn’t think anyone would take it seriously!” Ethan said, gulping nervously. He sat up in the dark. Now that he was thinking about Kurtis’ body, it loomed next to him. Kurtis wasn’t huge, but he seemed big in the dark.

“Come on, ain’t you horny?” Kurtis said. “I never see you with a girl.”

“I get horny sometimes, but I’m not a total hornball like you,” Ethan said.


“You’re fucking your girl every night!”

“That’s not a bad thing!” Kurtis scoffed. “And it ain’t true anyway! She dumped me last week.”


Kurtis nodded. “She left me for Greg Winthrop. You know him? He’s on the golf team. I lost a girl to some white guy who plays golf,” he said. “You know how embarrassing that is? I can’t show my face in the Black Students Union until I land some other white chick.” He laughed at himself.

“You know… you can be a real jerk sometimes. I’m not surprised she dumped you,” Ethan said.

“Oh come on, I’m sorry,” Kurtis said. “Just chill out. Don’t white guys ever fuck around on the downlow?”


“Why not?”

“It’s… gross, or whatever-“

“It ain’t gross, and that’s homophobic of you,” Kurtis said. He beamed like he was proud to have said something politically correct for once. He placed one hand on Ethan’s shoulder. It rested there, heavy and foreboding. It was all Ethan could think about for a moment.

“I’m not a homophobe.”

“Then fuck me,” Kurtis said. “Come on… You’ll feel better when it’s done-“

“Fine! Just stop being a jerk,” Ethan said. He shook his head. “You’re a real asshole sometimes.”

“But not all the time? Thank you, you have a higher opinion of me than most of the freshmen in this dorm! You wanna sixty-nine?” He was already taking his clothes off. He was still fully dressed, in basketball shorts and a tight t-shirt that showed off his muscles, because he had gone out to a party, but Ethan was wearing nothing but boxer shorts. He felt self-conscious next to Kurtis, whose basketball-toned body gleamed in the dim light of the dorm room.


“Come on, I’ll let you be on top,” he said. He laid on the narrow dorm bed, pushing Ethan over to make enough room.

That was the first time Ethan had been touched intimately by a man — Kurtis’ hands gripped his ass and shoved Ethan a few inches closer to the wall. That forced Ethan into a spooning position, his face wedged in next to Kurtis’ muscled shoulders.

“Okay, gimme your hand. I’ll walk you through this,” Kurtis said. “I ain’t know this was gonna be my role at college, tellin’ whiteboys how to fuck around on the downlow.” He laughed at himself as he guided Ethan’s hand over Kurtis’ body until it touched his spongy soft cock.

Ethan jerked and spasmed. He had never touched anyone’s dick besides his own. It was hot and throbbing in his hand. It felt huge, though he wasn’t sure it was actually bigger than his own, it just seemed strange to hold it in his hand.

He moved his hand, giving one awkward stroke. Kurtis laughed. “You gotta do better than that, man,” he said. “You would not last in my hood.”

“Is this part of growing up in the hood?”

Kurtis shrugged. “Basically, yeah,” he said. His own hand wrapped over Ethan’s dick. He laughed again, but more nervously this time. “Damn, whiteboy dicks feel weird.”

“Your dick feels weird.”

They both laughed together. Their cock were both completely soft. Ethan still didn’t know why anybody would do this willingly — who cared? It would have been more enjoyable to simply jack off.

“Alright, well, get on top of me,” Kurtis said. “Maybe we’ll be able to do it once we get started.”

Ethan grumbled as he crawled onto his hands and knees. He couldn’t believe he was really doing this. He just wanted to get it over with. His dick dangled as he straddled Kurtis’ head, hugging his ropy-muscled basketball-player body.

Kurtis’ dick lay in front of him like a dead animal. It smelled like soap and a little of sweat. Before Ethan could do anything, Kurtis swallowed his dick in one smooth motion, and Ethan let out a moan.

“Ah, shit…”

He had gotten blowjobs, but he had never felt anything like this. He threw his head back and had to suppress a scream. Kurtis’ mouth spread spit over Ethan’s shaft, which pulsated and throbbed like it was his first time getting hard.

Ethan slammed his head down because the pleasure was such a sudden shock and he couldn’t help it. But that placed his face and his mouth right next to Kurtis’ brown dick, which twitched. It was close enough that Ethan felt the heat radiating off it.

Kurtis grumbled — he was annoyed that Ethan wasn’t sucking him back just yet. His mouth was full, but he lightly slapped Ethan’s ass with one hand, while his other hand thwacked his dick over Ethan’s face.

Ethan opened his mouth and closed his eyes. It was already dark in the dorm room, so he didn’t really need to close his eyes, but he did it anyway. He let Kurtis’ cock slide into his mouth.

And, much to his surprise, it wasn’t unpleasant at all. He didn’t mind the taste, which was clean and a bit musky. He didn’t move at first, just letting it sit in his mouth.

Then his tongue moved as though of its own accord. It licked at Kurtis’ cockshaft, which twitched again.

And then, like a switch had been pressed, Ethan realized that they were sixty-nining. He was doing it. After all his anxiety over this tradition, here he was doing it, and it wasn’t really that bad.


His dick pounded into full erection, and rather than resting in Kurtis’ mouth, Ethan found himself in constant motion. He humped his hips up and down, working his dick in so deep Kurtis’ throat squeezed around it as he choked. Ethan choked as well, on Kurtis’ own cock sliding into his gullet.

Surprised pleasure shot up Ethan’s spine. He had never felt anything quite like this, and he was shocked by how much he enjoyed himself. Kurtis’ cock tasted surprisingly similar to pussy, he thought. Maybe that was why he loved it.

Yo, nigga, wake up! Get the fuck up!

Was a fight about to break out? It sounded like there was someone angry out in the dorm, but not outside Ethan’s door.

Kurtis tapped on his ass until Ethan rolled over. Kurtis hopped to the door to Ethan’s dorm and peered through the peephole, angling his head the best he could to see down the hall. His dick stood out straight, its silhouette making it seem gargantuan in the shadowy dorm room.

Wake up, Kurtis! We gonna put yo’ money where yo’ mouth is!

Hey, baby!

Kurtis slid the door open just slightly, enough for his head to poke out. “Yo.” His deep voice echoed in the dorm hallway.

The guys at Kurtis’ own dorm-room door came down to Ethan’s. Ethan caught a glimpse of them — three young black men, in jerseys and sneakers, carrying a basketball as though they were on their way to a game, even though it was past midnight.

Hey, nigga, we gonna play. We gonna settle this, and we even got a reward for the winner.

Hell yeah!

Hey, baby…

That last voice was feminine, a low and sultry woman. Ethan couldn’t see her, but she sounded beautiful. He was still erect, so he still thought about sex, and when he heard her voice, his knees went weak. He clutched at Kurtis’ muscled chest for support, and his hard cock pressed into Kurtis’ thigh. That was what he needed to get excited about this, a girl. Already Ethan was imagining her naked body, despite the fact that he hadn’t even seen her with clothes on yet.

Kurtis apparently didn’t notice Ethan’s dick touching his leg, or Ethan’s hands now resting on his muscled back. “Not interested, nigga,” he said.

Yo, what?! After all that trash-talkin’ you was doing?

We ain’t even tell him what the prize is.

Oh, yeah, you get to fuck this bitch.

The girl giggled then, and she murmured something Ethan didn’t catch. Ethan’s heart skipped a beat at the thought of fucking her — he couldn’t see her, so in his mind, she was the most beautiful woman he could imagine.


Man, whatchoo doin’ in here anyway? Who’s room is this?

“I, uh… I’m fuckin’ a female, man. We havin’ a little threeway in here.”

This is a men’s dorm. You havin’ a threeway wit’ another nigga?

“Ain’t another nigga, man. Just get out,” Kurtis said. He started to shut the door, but the other men grunted and mean-mugged at him. He stopped. They glared at each other, and the girl pouted by herself.

Ethan was close enough he could feel Kurtis’ muscles tighten as a fight almost broke out. Kurtis was stark-naked, his big brown cock throbbing, a few drops of precum still clinging to his shaft.

Finally Kurtis just shut the door as he mumbled, “Go fuck yo’selves, niggas.” He made sure to lock it, then watched through the doorway as they walked away. The sound of that basketball dribbling on the floor was impossibly loud, booming like a freight train. It stopped only when they reached the elevator.

“Alright, let’s do this,” Kurtis said. “Let’s trade anal, man. I just gave up a girl to finish this-“

“Yeah, why’d you do that?”

“Cuz I ain’t wanna walk outta there from here, they’d have found out what we was doing.“

“You said it was normal ‘in the hood’. You said it was okay-“

“Yeah, it’s normal to do it and never admit it. That’s how it works,” Kurtis said. “You gonna do this or not?”

Ethan sighed. He would have thought he’d never in a million years agree to trade anal sex — that just seemed like a step too far. But he couldn’t help but think that since the blowjob had turned out to be much better than he expected, maybe he’d enjoy anal sex after all as well.

“Reacharound rules?” He asked.

“Uh… what?”

“Do you want to do reacharound rules?” He sighed dramatically, erect cock twitching, as though everybody knew what this was. “It just means that we play Paper-Rock-Scissors to see who gets to fuck first. When you fuck, you gotta give a reacharound. If the guy you’re fucking blows his load before you’re done, you don’t gotta give up the booty.”

“Oh. I guess that’s fair.”

“Course it’s fair,” he said. “If I go first, my dick is gonna make you feel so good. I got a magic dick, man. Ask any girl I been with.” He licked his lips and grinned like a cocky jerk. Ethan was flush with self-pity — he had never felt confident he was good in bed.


Then they played Paper-Rock-Scissors. Ethan, as he always did, picked Rock. When he saw that Kurtis had picked Paper, he wanted to cry.

But at the same time, he didn’t, because a part of Ethan did want to find out what it was like to get fucked. He had enjoyed sucking dick, after all, so he hoped he would enjoy being fucked just the same.

“Hell, yeah!” Kurtis exclaimed. “Fuck! Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle. I got lube.” He withdrew a tube of lubricant from his jeans that were crumpled on the floor. He squeezed some onto his cock and lightly slapped Ethan on the ass. “I been lookin’ at that ass since September, man.”

“Really? That’s fuckin’ nasty-“

“Well, ain’t my fault whiteboys is too stupid to fuck around on the downlow. Ass is ass. Ain’t no difference between a male ass and a female ass, ‘cept males don’t got tits or a pussy on the other side. Females are more difficult too,” he said with a laugh. “They don’t ever wanna have sex just cuz they’re horny. You gotta convince ‘em.” He wedged his dick between Ethan’s cheeks.

Ethan took a deep breath and bent over. He was excited about this but tried to hide it, both because he didn’t want to look gay and because it seemed Kurtis expected it. Kurtis clucked his tongue against his teeth supportively and he patted Ethan’s asscheeks.

“You seriously got a nice ass, man,” Kurtis said. “Nice and smooth. Plump. Fuckin’ hot. If you was my cellmate, I’d eat yo’ ass with a spoon.”

Before Ethan could say anything back, he felt a surge of agony like he was being torn apart. That lasted for only a half a second though, and then the lube made it easier for Kurtis’ dick to slip through.

It was awkward and alien at first, like he was being invaded, but the longer it went on, the calmer Ethan got. His ass relaxed, and soon waves of pleasure emanated from his prostate.

“Yeah, I feel ya twitchin’,” Kurtis said. He smiled like a cocky bastard. “See? I told you, I gots a magic dick. That’s why the females love me.” He groaned as one of his hands reached around Ethan’s body and wrapped over his dick. “I don’t like this part. I mean… Yo’ dick ain’t bad, but…”

“Can you stop talking?” Ethan said through gritted teeth. It felt good but the pressure was still intense and overwhelming.

It continued that way as Kurtis began to hump his dick back and forth. It hurt every few seconds, but Ethan was more focused on the pangs of pleasure running up his spine. They were few and far between compared to the shivers of pain, but they were still there, and they were stronger, more important, and just plain bigger in Ethan’s mind.

The more he got fucked, the more he liked it. His prostate tingled with every thrust of Kurtis’ dick into it — Ethan had to admit it did feel magical. It felt like a magic wand ramming into him, spraying awe-striking bliss throughout this body.

His muscles tensed, and his fingers tightened into claws. He was bent over his own bunk, so his fingernails clawed at his mattress, pulling on the sheets and blankets and knocking the pillows onto the floor.

“Yeah, man, take that shit, damn… Yo’ ass don’t quit!”

Kurtis’ basketball-toned body writhed behind Ethan’s back, his muscles tensing and flexing as he fucked. His dick fit perfectly inside him as though it had been constructed just to tease Ethan’s prostate, which it did each time it thrust into his ass.

Finally Ethan felt an orgasm overwhelm him. It was so intense he didn’t even realize at first that he was cumming first — that meant Kurtis had “won” and Ethan wouldn’t get to be on top next. That wasn’t disappointing though, even if a part of Ethan thought it should be.

Cum sprayed over his bunk and onto Kurtis’ fingers. It was a thick and copious load, with a strong smell that filled up the dorm room with its billowing, cottony scent.

“Hell yeah, told ya!” Kurtis said with a long, low grunt. He yelped right into Ethan’s ear, making Ethan shudder and clench onto the cock in his ass as his orgasm finally dwindled. Aftershocks continued with each wave of sensation deep inside him, and his cock throbbed beneath Kurtis’ fingers. Kurtis grunted. “Here I go, man…”

Cum coated his insides, great gobs of it spreading within him. It felt like a bigger load than his own, but Ethan wasn’t sure if that was real or an illusion. He moaned, and Kurtis groaned, gripping Ethan’s back firmly as pleasure rolled over his tight, toned muscles.

It washed over his insides. Ethan had to bite his lip to stifle a moan, which he thought would be audible next-door. He writhed beneath Kurtis’ body as his ass filled up with wad after wad of creamy-white cum.

Finally Kurtis was done. He didn’t pull out right away though. He paused and remained in position, resting while his cock throbbed in Ethan’s ass like it meant to stay there all night. Cum trickled throughout Ethan’s body, and it dripped out and down his thighs.

Only when Ethan thought he couldn’t handle the intensity anymore did Kurtis pull out. They both sighed, and Ethan collapsed onto his bunk on his belly.

“Hey, thanks,” Kurtis said. He stood up. He nervously bit his lip. “Hey, uh, if anyone asks… especially if any black folk ask, you, uh, you tell them that we was in here having a threesome, okay? Some girl who don’t go to school here. Say you don’t wanna tell who cuz she’s a local.”

“Oh. Okay.” Ethan was breathless.

“I’ll back you up,” Kurtis said. He paused and put his clothes on. “Thanks again.”

“Yeah, sure. Thank you,” Ethan said though he wasn’t quite sure what he was thanking Kurtis for. He breathed a sigh of relief when Kurtis finally walked out and the door swung shut behind him.

Ethan was glad that it was over, but even more than that, he was glad he had done it in the first place.

Fireman Fantasy

Here’s a sample from the beginning of Fireman Fantasy, a hot new story of hetero alpha firefighter action by Ellen J. Gantos! It’s also available as part of the great value bundle Hetero Alpha Male Erotica, Vol. 1!


There I was sitting alone again and wondering what I was doing as they came into the bar, every Thursday at 5 o’clock and it was time for me to pay attention.  There were five of them.  All very muscled men and they were also firefighters.  They worked the local fire station, and I would always obsess over them as I drank my drinks alone at the bar, tonight was no different.  They came in, laughing, perfect smiles on their face, wearing their fire station T-shirts showing off their muscles.  I would sit there sipping beer, watching them hoping that they would notice me hoping that they would come over and say just one word to me.

As usual, they didn’t notice me.  They were all the way across the bar sitting together, laughing and joking I would get so turned on when one of them hands another a beer with his muscles flexing

I went home a few beers later all alone, layed in my bed.  I pulled out my vibe and fire fireghtor magazine and began to masturbate.  I rubbed myself hard until I reached the first climax.  I did it again thinking about the guys at the bar and about how I wished that one of them would take notice of me.  After I finished masturbating I went to sleep semi-fulfilled.

The next morning I woke up and I brushed my teeth, did my make up, went to work. On our lunch break I went down to the local grocery store and bought some Subway sandwich inside the store while in line I noticed behind me a man.  I didn’t look back is a very shy woman, but when the server came over and gentleman what he would like on sale which I recognized his voice.  He was one of the guys from the bar.  He was one of the firefighters so much as well.  I smiled back.  Huge smile smile like you’ve never seen before that give him up and down with my eyes visualizing naked.  I fantasized about what I would do to him could see me biting my lip.  He knew what was going on

“Hello there Miss” he said, smiling at me

“Hi there” I said weakly.

“I see you like the veggie delight.”

“Yes I try to stay healthy and the other veggies in my diet.  However, sometimes I go for a sausage.”

“A sausage?  You are an awfully tiny woman to enjoy sausage,” he said flirtatiously.

“Yes I do like a good sausage every once in a while things spicy”

“Well, I happen to get the spicy sausage sub today.  Anyways, what are the you up to later tonight. ”

“Oh, you know, the usual… Nothing…”

“Well if you aren’t doing anything.  I love to take you and give you a tour of the fire station.”

“The fire station?”

“Yes, the fire station.  It’s where I work.”

Rough Trade: The Plumber, Plenty of Poundage and One Pulsating Pole

Here’s the entirety of Rough Trade: The Plumber, Plenty of Poundage and One Pulsating Pole, a hardcore tale of blue-collar action! It’s available for a great low price with five more stories — plus bonus material — in Gay Blue-Collar Erotica, Vol. 1!

Rob had never seen a sexy plumber — they were always fat and gross in his experience — so when Dino showed up, his knees went weak. Rob stood there at the front door, quaking like a child.

That’s because Dino was a tall, broad-shouldered man, with swarthy skin betraying his Greek origin, though his accent was almost undetectable. He had a dense mop of curly black hair that extended in an unruly mess all the way to his shoulders. He wore a tight wifebeater, 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. He was so hot Rob was too nervous to stand there and watch as he fixed the sink.

It was a simple job, and it only took a few hours. Rob went away to surf the web, forcing himself not to watch porn even though he kept getting hard thinking about Dino there under the sink.

“What?” Dino’s angry voice spat out. It was deep and resonant.

Rob was flush with fear. Had he angered Dino? 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. His nostrils flared. His shoulder muscles rippled beneath the wifebeater that was now sweaty and marked with grease. “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 minute. 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. “And if you do it the way I tell you, I’ll give you five hundred.”

He cocked his head to the side. “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, unsure if he should take a guess at what Rob was trying to say. If Dino guessed wrong and Rob complained, he would get in a lot of trouble. But Dino couldn’t think of anything Rob might be referring to other than sex. “So you want me to fuck you?”

“Yes. Exactly. I want you to fuck me, and I want you to fuck me raw, and I want you to fuck me hard. 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 hate 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 suck your dick. You fuck me in the ass. You make a lotta noise when I call my dad,” Rob said. “That’s all. I’m a bottom, I’ve got no interest in fucking you.”

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.

“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 one nasty dude,” Dino said.

Rob sucked on 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 hot, 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 just 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.

As Rob sunk to the ground, Dino groaned. He closed his eyes. He couldn’t believe he was really doing this. Am I a prostitute? No, he thought, this doesn’t count. It would count if I sought out a gay man to fuck for money. This is just… making a little cash on the side. From sex. Can I call myself a gigolo? Could I pretend this guy was a girl and tell everyone I had a female pay me for money?

He felt self-conscious and vulnerable when Rob undid his belt and dropped them. 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 porn on his cell phone.

Rob saw Dino take out his phone and mumble to himself as he looked up some more porn. Rob didn’t mind. 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 video he was really into because his dick jumped and hardened. It went from soft to hard in seconds, and Dino groaned overhead.

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. 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 facefuck him like a slut. Dino rarely got the chance to orally copulate with someone like that — mostly girls thought his body hair was gross enough that any kind of contact was a favor. His ex-wife had made him lick her pussy without ever sucking his dick, and then when he complained, she called him a misogynist.

He was watching porn, so when a call came, it bounced him off the website and those beautiful blonde lesbians 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. “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 cunt!” 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 yo’ business 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 Lisa! 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. “I’m kinda busy right now, I got a girl over.”

You’re not at work?

“She was one of my clients. She came over to suck my dick,” 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 sucked, 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.

His dick throbbed in Rob’s mouth. Now that Dino had gotten more comfortable with it, he went ahead and facefucked him. 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.

Dino groaned and threw his head back as 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 fucked — not enough to stop, but enough that he promised himself he’d see his priest as soon as he could. He really ought to start going to church, not just for this, 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.

But mainly, he wanted assurance that he wasn’t in trouble with God for doing this. Now that he had gotten started, it really didn’t feel like prostitution. It didn’t seem like it should be sinful. He was just sticking his dick down a welcome, warm, wet hole — what could be sinful about that?

Besides, he had been fucking females outside of wedlock. That wasn’t any worse, was it? Not technically speaking, he thought. But there was still a twinge of guilt in his chest. Nothing that felt this good could possibly be allowed by the Bible, he decided.

When Rob gave him his phone, Dino was nervous. 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. But Rob was insistent.

“Yo. Hey, Mr. Winthrop?”

Yes. Who, may I ask, is calling?

“Yo, uh, this is Dino. I just wanted to say thanks, for makin’ your 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 fuck 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 a little as he got in position, but Dino kept moving, making it impossible to jack him off as they arranged themselves for hardcore fucking.

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 fuck 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 fucking, Dino was less nervous. He was surprised by how easy this really was — Rob’s ass felt exactly like a girl’s ass. It helped that Rob was such a feminine man, with a bubble-butt that was smooth, clean and unblemished, not to mention tight. It was easily the best ass he had ever fucked, though when Dino told his friends about this later, he said that Rob’s ass was “sloppy and weak”.

“Yo’ son is a slut, 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 fucking a man. He’d be humiliated if his dick went soft mid-fuck.

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, slut, 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.

Rob was entirely pinned. He couldn’t even squirm with 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.

“Hell, yeah, slut…”

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.

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.

“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, especially through his fucking, 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. It was nice, Dino thought, to fuck a man because he knew Rob would never complain that he was too rough. Girls act like they’re made of glass and could shatter if you handle them harshly, Dino thought as he drained his balls into Rob’s asshole.

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.

“No. I won’t. I’ve got cash in my wallet,” Rob said, his voice strained and clipped.

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.

“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 or 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. Was this stealing? He didn’t want to be a thief.

“I’m taking six hundred dollars. The extra hundred bucks is for the performance I put on for your daddy,” Dino said. “And you still gotta pay for the sink too.”

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