Category Archives: Novelli Family

Mafia Muscle, the Masseur and the Happy Ending

Here’s the beginning of Mafia Muscle, the Masseur and the Happy Ending, a new story of yaoi MM erotica by Lee Lane Lamplight!

John giggled as he wrapped one hand around Alfie’s cock. He tried to keep a straight face, or at least avoid making too much noise, because he thought it would make Alfie uncomfortable. Alfie had a thick slab of uncut meat. John didn’t often get to mess around with uncircumcised men, so he enjoyed playing with Alfie’s foreskin.

Soon his cock had firmed up, and it throbbed beneath John’s hand. Alfie’s broad chest muscles rippled as a wave of pleasure rolled over him. Alfie bit his lip and grunted. His swarthy face turned ruddy from both arousal and embarrassment.

“Ah, shit yeah, man, I love how ya hand feel on my meat, but don’t tell no one…”

John had thought Alfie was hot from the moment he first laid eyes on him. He had been coming in and out of the building with his head down since he opened his massage parlor there. He felt it was necessary to keep a low profile because he had come to learn the restaurant on the ground floor — right beneath the massage parlor he had saved years to open — was Mafia-connected.

It seemed like a joke when a friend first told him about the rumors. He had initially dismissed it as silly gossip. It was an Italian restaurant, he thought, they probably tried give the place a Mafia reputation to spur sales.

He had to admit that, when he walked through the foyer to get to the stairs leading up to the second floor, it sure looked like a Mafia restaurant. There were never very many customers there, even on a weekend night. There were a lot more men than women, and nearly everyone looked Italian — he once saw a scared-looking Chinese couple in there, eating quickly and looking like they had already come to regret their choice of dining establishments.

The first time he saw Alfie, John had come through the foyer just as a small group was leaving. Alfie stood behind a table of older Italian gentlemen. He was a bodyguard, or so it looked. He was much younger than the others, with a big shock of curly black hair that ran down to his broad shoulders. He looked at John as though he might stop him from going to the stairs. The old men at the table didn’t seem to notice John.

That had been the kicker — that was when John realized the rumors were true. He had never in his life see anyone at a restaurant with a bodyguard. That could only be a Mafia event, he thought.

What should he do about it? He didn’t have any ideas. He certainly wasn’t going to call the police. He resolved to never ask anyone from the restaurant for a favor, for fear of being asked to repay it.

That had been the end until Alfie came upstairs, nervously, head down, chest muscles quivering beneath his button-down shirt. John had heard laughter down in the restaurant when he opened the door. He didn’t know this massage was going to lead right into the sexiest happy ending John had ever given out.

“Oh god, man… Oh god…” Alfie sat up and opened his eyes. He looked down his broad, expansive chest at his cock in John’s hand. Alfie picked up the crucifix that dangled between his pecs and kissed it. He wanted to make the sign of the cross, but he worried it would be sacrilegious to do it while he got a handjob from a man.

He covered his eyes with his forearm. He prayed that he was doing the right thing by agreeing to this. It didn’t exactly feel like the right thing.

Alfie — or Alfredo, but no one called him that — was raised mainly by his mother. He was aware of his father, in prison, but he only met him a few times. His uncle had long talked, in his dense New Jersey dialect, about men who were bardassas: bottoms. As far the men of Alfie’s family were concerned, a real man penetrated, sticking his cock in whichever tight hole he could fit it in, consequences be damned. It was only the bottom who was properly ashamed of being treated in that way. A bardassa was a bottom, whether willing or not.

But the Mafia in America didn’t act that way anymore. They had women available. Alfie’s employer was Clan Novelli, who owned numerous brothels throughout New York. Alfie was able to go see the girls anytime he wanted — he was too nervous to actually do so, because his mother raised him to stay away from prostitutes, but he had made it seem to his fellow mafioso that he had done it. He wanted them to think he was a macho man’s man.

They had found out he was lying. They asked at the brothel he had claimed to visit most recently, and they said he was never there. Alfie had been humiliated. They had asked if he was a virgin. He wasn’t, but they didn’t believe it.

“Go upstairs, Alfie, to the massage parlor. Ask for a happy ending, and you will be a man at last,” said Don Novelli, a portly older man who had patted Alfie’s muscled back beneath his ill-fitting suit. Alfie nodded. He wasn’t allowed to question the Don.

“Yes, Don,” he said. “I… I ain’t no virgin. I can… I can fuck that masseuse broad, no problem.” He added a cocky chuckle.

“Alfie! You forget yourself,” Don Novelli said. Alfie knew he’d be scolded for speaking so rudely in front of the Don. It was worth it to look like a real man.

“Yes, Don. I apologize. I am often, uh, overwhelmed by my urges.” He grabbed at his cock through his slacks and sniffled. He hoped he looked suitably macho.

“Yes. Yes, I am sure,” Don Novelli said with a wry smile.

And so Alfie had gone upstairs. He heard snickering from Don Novelli and the other made men down there as he went up the stairs, but he thought they were just laughing at how big Alfie was. They often called him names like ox or horse because he was well over six and a half feet tall and built like a professional wrestler. He hoped the girl was not going to be tiny — he had come to accept that he was too big for any thin, pretty girl; he needed hefty, thick girls who could handle Alfie’s size and his rough-hewn body.

And that was when he knocked on the door the Happy Endings Massage Parlor. As the door opened, Alfie realized he had never seen any girls here, just that one seemingly gay man who came in and out frequently.

He groaned. It all came together. There was no girl. That was why Don Novelli and the others laughed. They knew Alfie was going to have to fuck a man.

He would have done it too. Alfie’s uncle had assured him it would make him a man. He said that real men knew how to take some sniveling weakling and turn him into a bardassa.

Alpha Cellmate: The Mafioso

Here’s the first chapter of Alpha Cellmate: The Mafioso, a new story from Brutewood Medium Security Penitentiary! It’s a hot tale of interracial action behind bars!

Rashad was terrified as he walked naked through the corridors of Brutewood Penitentiary, but he hid it with a well-timed sashay of his hips whenever he passed a group of inmates. He was gay and he had no intention of hiding it. He knew that, if he played it right, being gay was a good thing behind bars.

Luckily, Rashad loved servicing alpha male thugs like the mainly black and Latino men who filled Brutewood’s cells. So he hoped that’s who his cell-mate would be. He was certain he could get any nigga like himself — but bigger, stronger and tougher — to agree to protect him in exchange for sexual favors, which Rashad was excited to perform anyway.

A part of him had always hoped he’d get to spend a little time in prison. He knew he’d hate the isolation, the boredom, the deprivation, but he had always loved macho alpha male thugs. They didn’t even have to have perfect prison-toned bodies as far as he was concerned. Rashad thought the swagger was sexier than the details of a man’s body size and shape.

He was both disappointed and elated to see the scowling man who sat on the upper bunk of the tiny cell. Rashad was disappointed because he was neither black nor Latino — he was white — but he was elated because he was sexy.

Rashad’s new cellmate was Sonny Migaccio, and he was a square-jawed Italian with a dense mop of black hair, broad shoulders and a hairy chest. Rashad wanted to pounce on his cock even before the guard shut the cell door.

“Hi,” Rashad said, managing to restrain himself long enough to get it out. He smiled coquettishly. He didn’t know how comfortable Sonny was with man-on-man sex, so Rashad tried to play up his feminine flamboyance. He sighed dramatically, opening his mouth wide to show how much he could fit in there. “My name’s Rashad.”

Sonny just nodded at him. He snorted and looked Rashad up and down. Rashad could pinpoint the exact moment when Sonny realized Rashad was gay. His nostrils flared and he rolled his eyes.

Rashad’s gaze was drawn to the massive bulge in his prison pants. He looked to have a big cock, probably uncut. Rashad was drooling already. He didn’t normally like white men very much, but Sonny was plenty sexy — Rashad smiled, recalling what his brother told him once: Italians are the white equivalent of niggas, Rashad. Don’t nevuh fuck wit’ dem. Rashad had never followed his brother’s advice.

“You like what you see?” Rashad asked as he put his clothes down on the bottom bunk. He turned around to display his bare, plump brown ass for Sonny.

“I am one-hundred percent hetero, queerboy. If you ain’t got tits, I ain’t interested,” Sonny said. He sounded bored, his Italian-New Jersey accent resonant in the tiny cell. He sneered in Rashad’s direction but didn’t look at him directly.

“Are you sure? I could sure use a strong man to protect me. This is a rough place. A big boy like you could treat me as bad as he wanted to,” Rashad said. He stepped closer and licked the air near Sonny. “I’d love every second of it.”

Sonny pushed Rashad’s face away from the bunk. “Not interested, queermeat. There’s some black pimps in Block H, they’ll take you in. Hope you like gettin’ fucked.” He said that last part as though he didn’t believe anyone enjoyed getting fucked.

“I do. But I’m not interested in being pimped out,” Rashad said. “I want one man. One perfect man I can worship like the god that he is.” Rashad’s heart pounded. If this didn’t work, he wasn’t sure what he would do. There were a lot of advantages to having your cellmate be your protector, Rashad thought. He didn’t want to give up on this, especially Sonny was so hot.


“I can blow your mind, Sonny. I can make you feel so good you forget about girls,” Rashad said.

“No you can’t.”

“How about we make a deal? I suck your dick right now, and if it ain’t the best blowjob you ever got, I’ll leave you alone. If it is, you protect me from now on,” Rashad said.

Sonny just snorted and looked away. From that, Rashad sensed that the answer was fine, but I’m not going to participate and there’s no way I’m admitting you’re that good, even if you are. Rashad was fine with that. He knew exactly how to play this.

He stood on the edge of his bunk and reached for Sonny’s dick. Sonny still lay on his own bunk, flipping through a nudie magazine he brought out from the shelf next to his bed. He wore orange prison pants, which Rashad had to lower to his ankles. Sonny lifted his hips to let him at his pants, but he sighed like it was a huge imposition. He covered his face with the nudie magazine.

His dick was long and thick, dark brown — if Rashad hadn’t known he was Italian, he would have assumed that was a black man’s cock. It was limp and soft right now, but big enough that it already looked tasty to Rashad. It had that meaty feeling that only very thick dicks had. Rashad moaned at the thought of feeling it in his ass, but he knew Sonny wasn’t ready for that, not yet. He planted a kiss right on the shaft.

It tasted of garlic and olive oil, Rashad thought when he licked the shaft from root to tip, exactly what he sort of hoped Italian cock tasted like. He made a big noisy show of licking to get Sonny’s attention, though his face was covered by his nudie magazine so Rashad couldn’t actually see his reaction. He could tell Sonny liked it though, because his dick jerked and his body tensed. He grunted from behind the magazine.

“Damn… You know you ain’t s’posed to be my bitch,” Sonny said. “Black men need a black owner-“

“I’m not looking for an owner, baby,” Rashad said. He cooed affectively and kissed Sonny’s hairy, low-hanging balls. “I’m looking for a man I can worship and lust-“

“Shut up. You want me to protect you, right? That means you want me to own you,” Sonny said. He clicked his tongue against his teeth and glared at Rashad, who suckled on the tip of Sonny’s dick in between responses. Each time he did Sonny’s eyes opened a little wider, and he ran his tongue between his teeth and his upper lip.

“Fine, yes-“

“But you is black, man. You don’t get it, that don’t work in this place,” he said. He bit his lip and threw his head back as Rashad sucked his dick all the way down. Rashad had always been good at deep-throating, so he managed to get that entire shaft down his gullet as Sonny talked. He sputtered and played with Sonny’s hairy balls, and he let spit run down Sonny’s dick into his bushy crotch. “Damn…” Sonny murmured. His hands briefly touched Rashad’s head, then backed up like he was scared to touch him. “You… fuck… You know how to do this right, man. Why don’t Italian bitches suck like this?”

Rashad nodded and shrugged without taking his cock out of his mouth. Sonny was hard now, his dick pulsating as it rammed into Rashad’s throat. Rashad loved being throat-fucked by alphas like Sonny, and the fact that Sonny didn’t do the throat-fucking — he just laid there and submitted — made it even hotter because Rashad could handle the speed and rhythm of it.

He wanted to show Sonny how Sonny could treat Rashad, if only he agreed to the protection arrangement. As far as Rashad was concerned, he was ready to be used and abused, and he wanted Sonny to know that wasn’t just an act. His eyes watered from lack of oxygen, his chest heaving. He had to use all of his attention to ignore his crying lungs, so that slab of olive man-meat stayed deep in his throat.

Rashad grabbed Sonny’s callused fingers and dragged his hand to Rashad’s throat. He knew straight men loved to feel their dick through Rashad’s neck, and Sonny shuddered in a combination of arousal and disgust when he felt it.

“Ah, shit…” Sonny said, then added something in Italian. It was roughly accented, and though Rashad didn’t understand a word of it, he could tell Sonny didn’t really speak Italian. Then he kissed the crucifix dangling around his neck. “You was made to be a prison bitch, you know that?”

Letting out a hoarse gasp, Rashad let go. Tendrils of spit connected his lips to Sonny’s cock. Rashad loudly heaved for breath and gagged as his throat recovered. Sonny’s dick spasmed, precum dripping onto his hairy bell.

Rashad licked the precum up and nodded into Sonny’s eyes. “Yes, sir,” Rashad said. “I was a prison bitch even before I ever came to prison. I wasn’t just made to be a prison bitch, I was made to be your prison bitch. I’ve always loved Italian men. You have better dicks than niggas, you know that?” None of what he said was true, but Rashad liked puffing up his men’s egos, and of course, the prouder Sonny was of his cock, the more inclined he’d be to use it.

Sonny smiled weakly, then replaced it with his stoic mafioso face. He just nodded his comprehension, then aimed his wet dick back into Rashad’s mouth.

Now the shaft tasted like spit, ball-sweat and a little bit of stomach bile. Rashad was familiar with that flavor — it was the taste of face-fucking, of alpha males distilled into their purest essence. Rashad loved it. Rashad’s eyes watered from lack of oxygen, so much so that he couldn’t see anything but a hazy mess of pubic hair in front of his face.

Sonny grabbed at the ceiling, which he easily reached from his position on the upper bunk, as though trying to dig his way out. He still kept his hands away from Rashad’s head, but it was clear he struggled to do. His arms flailed and he grunted over and over, biting his lip and rolling to and fro on his bunk.

“Fuckin’ hell, slut, here it goes…” He bucked his hips to slam his cock back down Rashad’s throat. He daggered up and down a few times.

When Rashad felt Sonny’s balls rise up in his sac, Rashad lowered his head all the way to the root. His throat clenched and spasmed, but he had always loved this feeling. He enjoyed the sensation of Sonny’s thick shaft pulsating within Rashad’s strained neck.

Finally the end came, and Sonny’s muscles all tensed at once. He lifted his hips and gripped Rashad’s ears — touching him with his hands for the first time — to grind his dick deeper into Rashad’s throat.

His load sprayed all the way down Rashad’s gullet, and the creamy, salty taste exploded on his tongue. Sonny shot a huge load; it just kept on coming, filling Rashad with its thick texture. Some of it dripped down Sonny’s cockshaft.

Sonny’s orgasm seemed to last forever. Rashad’s lungs begged for oxygen, but Rashad forced himself to remain in position, and Sonny held his head in place with both hands anyway. The cum flowed in wads, then in drips and drabs down Rashad’s throat.

“Aww… yeah… “

Then it was all over. Rashad wanted to show how desirous he was, so he didn’t stop sucking. He loudly and sloppily choked up spit and cum, letting it make a mess in Sonny’s hairy crotch. Sonny submitted at first, even as he writhed in uncontrollable pleasure.

At last Sonny had had enough. He pulled Rashad off his cock. Rashad made an effort to fight it, then when he finally came off, he gasped for air.

“Goddamn,” he said. “I love Italians.”

Sonny smiled, then it turned into a frown. “You shouldn’t. Go find a nigger to own you. I won’t protect you, bitch.” He paused. “I mean bitch as a general insult. You are a bitch, but you are not my bitch.”

“You promised-“

“That was not the best blowjob of my life.”

“I don’t believe you,” Rashad said. He put his hands on his hips and jutted his hips out. He had expected Sonny to say that, but it wasn’t a disaster. Rashad thought he could still get Sonny to protect him, it was just going to take a few extra steps. And if he needed to, Rashad thought, he could probably find a black non-pimp to protect him. It was just better to be protected by your cellmate than anyone else, since Sonny was almost always going to be nearby.

“Well, believe it, bitch. I’ve had better.”

Mobsters Downlow

Here’s a new sample from Mobsters Downlow, a new hardcore tale of Mafioso loan shark punishment!


Harvey sat up suddenly. He heard a loud knocking on the door. Could it be Robert? He felt a surge of hopefulness, then realized that wouldn’t be it. Robert was at his brother’s just an hour ago, judging from the post he made on Facebook, and that was a two-hour drive away at best. Even if Robert came here as fast as he could and encountered no traffic, there’s no way he’d be here yet.

Of course he could have been lying. Maybe he was already on the way back, to apologize. Maybe he didn’t want Harvey to know he had forgiven him.

Harvey hadn’t been alone in a long time, so he was desperate to find a reason to hope that Robert would be back. A part of him knew that wouldn’t happen though. Not only that, a part of him knew that was a good thing. They weren’t the kind of couple who lasted long-term. Their relationship was purely physical. Honestly, Harvey had never really enjoyed Robert’s presence, when they weren’t having sex.

There was another knock at the door. It was probably another political organizer. Harvey and Robert had moved to Florida together, and they only lasted two weeks living in the same house. Harvey had let Robert handle all the political folks — Harvey had never lived in a swing state, so he wasn’t used to it and didn’t enjoy the constant interruptions. He kept meaning to buy a no solicitors sign, but forgot.

He dragged himself downstairs in his bathrobe. He had been lounging around since Robert stormed out the night before. Harvey hadn’t changed his clothes or showered, and he couldn’t even recall if he had eaten since then. Was he really depressed? He tried to get himself to buck up — after all, he hadn’t even liked Robert. He was nothing to get so upset about.

There were three men outside. Handsome, lawyer-types, he thought, judging from the one in front. Robert was a paralegal, so they were probably here to serve him papers related to his job.

“Mr. Tompkins isn’t here,” Harvey said as he opened the door. He blinked his eyes open a bit wider; he hadn’t noticed in his earlier glance that these three men were so sexy. The one in front, who was a bit short and lean, but with a handsome lady’s man face, wore a nice tailored suit. The two men behind him were taller, bulkier, both wearing trackpants and plain white t-shirts. They had gold crucifixes dangling in front of their broad chests.

The man in a suit frowned. “Mr. Tompkins? We are not looking for a Mr. Tompkins. Victor Derazzo?”

Harvey was taken aback. “Victor Derazzo? No one by that name here.” Then he paused, “Oh yeah, he must have lived here before me. I got some junk mail addressed to that name. Sorry. I think the landlord said he moved to Chicago or some shit.”

“Chicago? We find that very hard to believe.” The man in a suit had a barely noticeable New York accent.

Annoyed, Harvey bit his lip. “Okay, well, don’t believe it then. I don’t really trust the landlord either.” He moved to shut the door, but the suited man put his foot in the door.

Then all three barged in. Harvey’s heart skipped a beat. He forgot about his depression. What was this? He now realized these men did not look like lawyers — they looked like mobsters.

“You are Mr. Derazzo, aren’t you?” the suited man said. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Giovanni Terani. You can call me Mr. Terani.” He pointed to the men behind him. “These are Rico and Pauly. We work for Mr. Palermo. You remember him, right?”

“Uh, no, I’m not-“

“Don’t give us your shit. We are experts in getting what we are owed,” Mr. Terani said. “You have a nice house. Surely you can pay your debts, if you can afford a house like this.”

“I don’t owe any money!” Harvey said. “I swear! Do I look Italian?”

The two muscular men behind Mr. Terani hesitated. Mr. Terani himself advanced threateningly, not seeming to even consider the possibility that Harvey might be telling the truth. He was on autopilot, but the two bodyguards were not. One of them leaned forward and whispered in Mr. Terani’s ear.

Mr. Terani cocked his head to one side. “You queer?”

Harvey nodded.

“How tall are you?”

“Six-three!” Harvey’s voice broke, and he blushed. He wasn’t a weakling, and though he had always been a fairly flamboyant gay man, he could hold his own in a fight. Of course with three mobsters ganging up on him, he had little chance.

Then Mr. Terani spoke in Italian. It was too swift for Harvey to hear any words; it just sounded like a confusing jumble of vowels. It seemed that it was a test, however, to see if he understood Italian. Mr. Terani peered at him closely to see how he responded.

Mr. Terani sighed. “What is your name, queer?”


“Well, Harvey, I do apologize for pushing into your home. It seems you are not the person we are searching for. You are much too tall, you are not Italian, you are clearly gay,” he said. “Can you forgive us?”

It sounded like a pro forma question, like he wasn’t really expecting Harvey to make any demands. But Harvey was insolent; he had been in a bad mood before all this, and now the stress made him want Robert even more, which annoyed him further.

“No! You fucking guidos burst in here…!” Harvey’s voice trailed off as he neared tears.

The three mobsters shifted their weight uneasily. Mr. Terani sighed. “We did not mean to disturb you.”

“Well you did! I’m dealing with a very bad breakup right now,” Harvey said through his tears. “I can’t deal with this shit too! You could have killed me before you even asked if I was the guy you were looking for!”

Mr. Terani smiled. “We were not going to kill you, or even beat you up,” he said. “In fact, you would have liked what was about to happen.”


Then Mr. Terani blushed and looked down. He ran his fingers through his hair. “I mean… maybe.”


“Mr. Derazzo owes money. If we killed him, or even badly hurt him, he would not be able to earn money to repay his debt,” Mr. Terani said. “My compatriots here specialize in finding ways to hurt him that won’t impact his earnings.”

Harvey didn’t understand at first, not until Pauly snorted and grabbed his hairy crotch through his trackpants. For a moment, his hefty, uncut cock was outlined by the sheer fabric of the pants. As sexual tension flowed through Harvey’s veins, Pauly blushed — he hadn’t expected to turn Harvey on.

“Straight men will pay a rather large amount of money to avoid having their manhood plucked,” Mr. Terani said. “So we would demand blowjobs today, and fuck him in the ass next month if he is still unable to pay.”

Arrested by an FBI Agent

This is a sample chapter from Arrested by an FBI Agent, a story in the Arrested by Man series.

Victor had been dreading this for weeks. Agreeing to turn state’s evidence was humiliating enough, but now he was going to wear a wire and try to entrap the men he was previously working for. The Novelli Family did not take kindly to snitches, so if anything went wrong, Victor knew his life would be over, one way or another — spending the rest of his life in prison would be the best possible result if this didn’t go right.

“Do you know what the initiation is like?” Agent Spencer asked. They were sitting in a van near a nightclub the Novellis frequented. Victor hated Agent Spencer, and his arrogant face, his handsome blond hair and his football player’s build. He looked like he had been the most popular kid in school, now working for the FBI to put losers and nerds behind bars.

“No. They make you prove yo’ respect, that’s all I know,” Victor said. He sucked his teeth and glared at Spencer.

“That’s right. You know how? They make you suck dick.”

Victor’s heart dropped. He had heard jokes about that, but assumed it was just kidding. He didn’t think they’d actually do it.


Agent Spencer laughed. He smoothed the lapel of his suit jacket. Victor thought he looked ridiculous and had told him so when they first got in the van today — Spencer was supposed to be undercover, but he looked like a cop, out of place in a suit driving a dingy old van in the nightclub district. If anybody glanced in and was able to see who was inside, they wouldn’t be fooled for an instant.

“Why don’t you practice on me?”


“If you don’t do good enough — if you don’t show enough respect — they won’t let you in,” he said. “I have a feeling you’ve never shown respect in your life.”

“Bullshit, motherfucker-“

“You think I’m playin’? The last time we got someone infiltratin’ the Novellis, he refused to suck dick and they slit his throat They didn’t even know he was FBI, they just thought he was some punk like you.”

“Fine, Agent Spencer, I believe you-“

“So come on, suck me off as practice. Show me you can have a little respect for your elders and betters,” he said with a smirk.

“You ain’t my better.”

“I managed to not ever get arrested,” he said. He undid the zipper on his slacks and spread his legs the best he could in the van’s driver’s seat. “So I’m at least a bit better, doncha think?”

“Whatever,” Victor said.

“Come on, suck my dick,” he said.

Now that his mind had calmed down slightly, and he was feeling a bit more comfortable sitting there in the van, Victor recalled the rumors he had heard about sucking dick to become a made man. He had heard it from the horse’s mouth, so to speak — Luca Novelli had told him that. Luca had laughed and said Victor would be sucking his dick if he finished that first mission (which he had not finished, resulting in his encounter with the FBI and now this new mission).

Agent Spencer waited while Victor thought, then said, “Look, this is part of the undercover gig you agreed to. Even if I wasn’t here, they’d make you suck dick.”

“Yeah, fine, I believe you,” Victor said.

“So if you don’t, I’ll have to tell my supervisor you refused to properly prepare,” Agent Spencer said. “That will reflect poorly on your cooperation.”

“You can’t do that,” Victor said, though he knew he was wrong, and Agent Spencer could do anything he wanted.

Agent Spencer shrugged. He took out a little pad of paper and began writing. “Mr. Manello is not willing to prepare for the mission. It is possible that he is not as cooperative as we initially hoped. He is, perhaps, hoping that this mission will fail.”

“Fuck you.”

“He has also been using profanity,” Agent Spencer said. “Come on, Manello. Just suck it. Don’t lose your oral virginity to those guido bastards.”

“Fine!” Victor shouted. He had actually decided Spencer was right a few minutes ago, but couldn’t quite bring himself to say yes. He was glad Spencer was forcing him to do it, so Victor didn’t have to really agree.

He kneeled over so he wouldn’t have to see Agent Spencer’s arrogant eyes looking down on him. He looked away. He couldn’t believe he was doing this. Just a few months ago, he had said he’d murder any man who talked to the police about anything at all, and now here he was working for the FBI and sucking off a pig. It even smelled kind of like ham, he thought, as the scent of Spencer’s crotch assaulted his nostrils

Victor reached into the dark, musty shadows of his groin. He gagged when he felt wiry pubic hair and clammy flesh, stale sweat clinging to it like foul cologne.

He fished out Agent Spencer’s cock and looked at it as though it was a rancid raw sausage sitting there in his lap. Victor opened his mouth, but the position was awkward — there was little space between the steering wheel and Spencer’s crotch.

“Gonna have to touch it too,” Agent Spencer said with a grin. “Go on and pick it up. It won’t bite. Might spit a bit, but it won’t bite.”

Victor winced as he picked it up. It felt heavier than he thought it would, thicker than it looked, and it was already getting hard in his fingers.

He put the tip in his mouth and gagged as sweaty male flavor hit his tongue. Agent Spencer snickered at Victor’s reaction, and guided his head further down on the shaft.

It began to get harder, and a few drops of precum leaked out. It was only a couple drops but they somehow spread out and coated Victor’s tongue with a sheen of sour, acrid cummy flavor. He gagged again, spitting up a ball of saliva that flowed down Agent Spencer’s shaft.

Agent Spencer grinned. He loosened the tie under his tailored suit, and his hands crept to his nipples, tweaking them until they were hard as needles. He moaned at the shocks of pleasure wracking his spine and limbs.

Moving his head up and down, Victor finally began getting into the rhythm of it. It was almost like fucking, he thought, then gagged at the realization that, if this was like fucking, he was the pussy. It was the same motion, the same feel, just with him on the other end. Was this how it felt when sluts sucked his dick? It must be different for women, he thought, or they would refuse to ever do it.

Cum shot into his mouth without warning. Agent Spencer chuckled as Victor choked on it, trying to pull away but Agent Spencer held his head in place. He shot jet after jet of cum into Victor’s gullet, and the sour taste was so strong, Victor gagged every drop of it back up.

Agent Spencer’s crotch was soaking wet. Victor hadn’t actually kept any of the cum down, and he was glad for that. He could hold his head high and proclaim he hadn’t swallowed any FBI semen.

“Ha, okay, now you’re ready,” Agent Spencer said. He took a deep breath and buttoned his slacks back up. “Made a big mess, that’s good, I like that. So will the Novellis.” He lightly slapped Victor on the cheek, smearing some cum underneath his eye. “Go on in there.”

Mafioso Induction Downlow

This is a sample chapter from Mafioso Induction Downlow, one of the books of the Str8 Studs Downlow series.  It is also available in Volume 7 of the series compilations for less than a dollar per story.


Gary was sure he’d be let in the Novelli family. He wasn’t a Novelli, of course, he was a Farelli, but still, Gary’s cousin was married into the family, and he had proven himself with a couple quick jobs for Luko Novelli. The Family respected people who took the risk of working with someone like Luko, and enterprising young men like Gary could turn into made men for less than that.

Luko was a tough, squat Italian thug. He was short and badly scarred, his slow mind making him the black sheep of the family. But he was, of course, both family and Family, so that was who Gary glommed onto. None of the more prominent Novellis would have given him the time of day.

“You want in the Family?” Luko asked after a year of odd jobs, “You come tonight on a job. You will be in. I need some help with this one. If you make sure we pull this off, I’ll tell my brothers to make you.”

His heart pounded at the thought of it. Gary had been hoping to join the Family since he was a little boy. He wanted to be able to walk through New York with his head held high, so high even the black thugs wouldn’t fuck with him. He had been dressing for the part for years, and even now he wore a nice white shirt and suspenders, black slacks, his hair slicked back; people said he looked like a throwback to an earlier era, and he was glad — once he was an ally of the Novellis, nobody would question how he dressed.

But first he had to do this little job for the Family. It wouldn’t be hard. He wouldn’t even be alone. Luko was going to be there the whole time. He reassured himself as Luko explained the plan, but his reassurances felt hollow even to himself.

The job was to follow a man when he left a strip club, to see where he was going, and to murder him somewhere unobtrusive. Gary had known he was going to have to kill to get into the Family, so he wasn’t surprised. He was still nervous, however, and tried to hide it from Luko. He didn’t want to seem like a scared rookie.

Luko was entirely unperturbed, it seemed, eating a messy burrito as they sat in the car outside the strip club. Gary was too anxious to eat. His burrito sat in front of him, barely two bites gone from it.

“Why you not eat?” Luko asked. His Italian accent was thick, even though he had been born in the States. He simply followed after his father and either never tried or was too stupid to pick up the American dialect.

“I don’t feel like eating. I’m not hungry. It’s… complicated,” Gary said. “I never killed no one before.”

“Ah?” Luko smiled, “Ah, it is big night then. Congratulations are due.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Gary said.

Luko finished his burrito and threw the wrapper out the window. He looked at his watch. “Hey, this man, he will not be leaving before midnight. So while we wait, I teach you proper respect in the Family.”

“I know about respect, Luko. I won’t embarrass you. I know how to act right,” Gary said, a bit miffed Luko would think he needed a lecture on basic Mafia etiquette.

“Not the Novelli way,” Luko said. When Gary didn’t protest further, Luko unzipped his fly and flopped a huge, club-like cock out against his thigh. He was not seductive or sexy about it, he was treating it like a business transaction. He flopped the flesh against the palm of his hand and pointed it at Gary.

Gary gasped and said, “Ew, god, man what are you doing? Put yo’ dick away.”All his worries about the imminent murder vanished from his mind.

“That is how we do it in the Family. You must perform blowjob on any man above you. I am older than you, and am to sponsor you in entering the Family,” he said, “Is no shame in it. It is just to show you respect your elders.” He gave his dick a quick squeeze, showing off how long and thick it was.

“I can’t do that,” Gary said. “No way. Men don’t suck cock. Only faggots, and I ain’t no faggot.”

“Then you are out,” Luko said. “I am glad we get this out of the way now. I would be embarrassed to sponsor you and then you disrespect my father and brothers.”

Gary gulped. He knew he had no way to back out now. Luko patted his gun behind his jacket as though checking to make sure it was still there, and Gary knew what that meant — you know I’m going to kill somebody tonight, and that means you either have to be in on it with me, or I’ll kill you to make sure you never tell.

“Fine, fine, fine,” Gary said urgently, not even listening to his own words. He didn’t want to agree, but he had to go along to get along for now, but he thought he might be able to turn the tables later. He didn’t entirely believe Luko. He had never heard anything about Mafioso sucking each other’s cocks willingly — some of the more vicious families would rape their male enemies (never women) back in Sicily, or so Gary had been told, but not in the States, and he wasn’t sure if that was a legend or not even in Italy.

“Good,” Luko said. He pointed to his cock and raised his eyebrows.

Gary eyed his dick and bent over, thankful for the dark tinted windows of Luko’s car. Nobody would be able to see here, unless they wedged themselves between Luko’s car and the van in front. Luko’s rod was like a giant greasy sausage, undercooked and rancid with sweat. He picked it up gingerly and opened his mouth, but was unable to force himself to taste it. His mouth wouldn’t move, and all he could focus on was not throwing up at the musty smell of Luko’s crotch.

Luko did it for him, twisting his hips to jab his cock into Gary’s throat. Gary’s stomach twisted and he retched as soon as the dickflesh touched his tongue. Luko pushed it deeper in, laughing at Gary’s shamefaced gagging. His stomach was revulsed at the flavor and the spongy texture of its shaft sliding inside him.

“Hey,” Luko said, “You better get used to this. If you gag on my dad’s dick, he shoot you. It’s like saying his body disgusts you. Ultimate disrespect.”

“Your whole family does this?” Gary said, pulling pubic hairs off his tongue.

“The Novellis do not suck cock, Gary,” Luko said, “Non-Novellis must suck Novelli men off in order to be accepted. It is a way of ensuring loyalty. It is like being an honorary Novelli. You can not betray a man who has cum in your mouth.”

Gary wanted to tell him that wasn’t really a rule, but he didn’t want to be branded a traitor-in-waiting. So he took a deep breath and swallowed the cock once more.

Luko held his head in place and fucked his throat, at first with slow and gradual strokes. He massaged Gary’s neck to loosen it up, then pushed his dick deeper and deeper.

His thrusting grew more impassioned and more aggressive, until he was virtually stabbing Gary’s throat with his cock. Finally he shot a big load, and it filled Gary’s stomach so much he choked it up. The sour flavor filled his nostrils, and he imagined it was staining his skin so he’d never smell anything else again. He didn’t know how women and fags could handle it without throwing up, he thought.

Luko laughed while Gary coughed, upchucking huge wads of cum and bile. He opened the car door and threw it all out onto the pavement.

Luko went silent, his eyes grim and narrow-slitted, aimed out the windshield and at the building across the street. “That’s him,” Luko said. “Come on, close that door. Get ready to kill.”

“Oh god, that was fucking disgusting,” Gary said. His mind was spinning. He didn’t think he’d be able to change directions now, the smell of cum was still overwhelming his senses.

“Shut the fuck up,” Luko said.

Gary slammed the door shut and shook his head. Spitting the last of the cum out of his mouth, he said, “I’m sorry, that was terrible, man.”

“Hush,” he said, “And don’t you dare talk like that to my father. If he thinks you’re rude to him, he’ll have you skinned alive.”