Seven Minutes in Heaven at the City Barbershop

Here’s the first chapter from Seven Minutes in Heaven at the City Barbershop, a new story from the City Barbershop series!

Paul wasn’t really serious when he made the promise that changed his life, but everyone took it seriously and he felt compelled to follow through. He was finishing with one young nigga’s hair while listening to the banter behind him.

This afternoon most of the banter came from one thug in particular, who went by Commodore. He was loud, boisterous and domineering, and he was just powerful enough in the Nine Tats gang that no one wanted to tell him to shut up. So every time he was at the City Barbershop of Compton, he was the only one who talked, and his voice boomed and echoed like church bells.

“Yo, nigga, that new Shadyside joint is tight. You listen to that? Put it on, nigga, that’s my jam. I know you ain’t nevuh heard nothin’ that tight.”

Paul was annoyed by him, but he forgave him because he was sexy. His swaggerous bravado made Paul’s dick hard in his pants. Paul hoped he might ask for a blowjob before he left.

The City Barbershop of Compton had a well-known reputation for being a place where straight black men could go to get their nuts drained on the downlow. What happened there, stayed there, so a lot of men swung Paul’s way when they were at the shop and nowhere else.

He hoped Commodore would be one such thug. His attempts at making eye contact were fruitless, however, and Commodore seemed more worried about bragging on how many chicks he had nailed.

“Damn, I fucked this bitch raw last night, you shoulda seen it, nigga. You’d have loved it-“

“Commodore… I would never watch you fuck some sloppy slut, that ain’t somethin’ I wanna spend my time doing.”

The barbershop erupted in laughter, and Paul laughed along with the others as he finished the haircut he was giving. The entirely black clientele of the City Barbershop howled at Commodore’s embarrassed expression.

While Paul took his customer’s money and prepared his chair for the next person, his ears pricked up at the sound of his own name.

“The fat-ass bitches you fuck wit’, Commodore, ain’t the kind that impress me. I’d be mo’ impressed if you fucked Paul here. But I know you too squeamish-“

“What? I ain’t into that downlow shit. I got girls on tap, nigga, I don’t need some gayboy swinging on my meat-“

Paul didn’t really plan on responding, he just dived in and spoke on impulse. “I ain’t a last resort anyway, Commodore, I fuck wit’ niggas who want it. That’s all of ‘em.” He turned around and shook his ass in Commodore’s direction as the other men in the City Barbershop whooped and hollered. Paul blushed at all the attention, but he also enjoyed it. He had been shy when he first started here, but the longer he worked in this place, the more comfortable he felt being the center of attention from the thugs, gangstas and barbers who choked the shop’s frontroom. Even those men who were anti-gay normally set aside their feelings while they were in the City Barbershop, which helped Paul feel comfortable there.

“Well you ain’t fo’ me, nigga.”

“I am absolutely fo’ you, mah nigga,” Paul said. “I’d make you feel so good you forget yo’ mama’s name. But I know you scared, you worried you ain’t gonna be able to slurp down a bowl of what I dish out.”

The shop erupted in cheers and claps. Paul beamed, embarrassed but proud of having held his own against Commodore. There were three or four guys in the shop right now giving him looks like they wanted to feel so good they forget their mama’s name. Paul, however, had eyes only for Commodore. There was no one else sexier in the shop right now, so Paul had his eyes set on Commodore’s meaty frame and sexy swagger.

“Yeah, right, nigga, you ain’t gonna outperform the bitches I got beggin’ for my meat,” Commodore said.

“I bet I will. I give you seven minutes in heaven, nigga, just seven minutes and yo’ dick just might retire,” Paul said with a chuckle. He had to speak up to be heard over the din and roar of the City Barbershop’s patrons.

Finally, there was a brief silence. Then Commodore cleared his throat and said, “Fine. Seven minutes. Let’s see what you can do, nigga.” He sounded annoyed with himself for accepting, like he hadn’t wanted to but he wanted to back down even less. He rolled his eyes.

Paul held out a hand as though he was a prince proposing to a refined lady. Commodore held it with his massive hand, and followed Paul into the backroom to the cheers and yelps of the men who filled the frontroom.

Once they were in the back, Paul closed the door. It was obvious everyone in there listened at the door — niggas had to be discrete about what happened here, but they only had to show discretion about it when they weren’t here. In the City Barbershop, anything went.

“How you gonna make me feel that good?” Commodore asked once they were in the darkened backroom. He sauntered among the shelves of cleaning supplies and products, and leaned up against the wall. “You got one less hole than a bitch, Paul. I don’t see how you gonna outdo a female.”

“Shut up, nigga,” Paul said. He put his hands on his hips. He had just been bragging and playing along with Commodore and the crowd; he hadn’t really intended to prove he could impress Commodore that much. But now his mouth had written a check that his body was going to enjoy cashing. “Get ready to lose yo’ mind.”

Commodore started to undo his belt, but Paul stopped him. He smiled up at him and sunk to his knees. He let out a fruity growl like he was hungry for Commodore’s dickmeat, and the sound made Commodore smile.

“You hungry, nigga?”

“I’m starving,” Paul said as he clicked the timer app on his cell phone. It was set to go off in seven minutes.

Yo, yo’ dick retirin’ yet, Commodore?!

Paul knew well how to impress a straight man with his cock-sucking abilities. It was rather like a con, he thought, not that it was all fraudulent, it just had more to do with confidence than any objective measure of blowjob quality.

He pulled Commodore’s dick out through the fly of his jeans. It was thick and veiny, and it looked delicious. He sucked on just the tip at first, loudly guzzling it down as though trying to suck it right off Commodore’s shaft. Commodore sharply inhaled like he was surprised by Paul’s boldness. His toes curled.

“Damn, nigga…”

Blowjobs were, objectively speaking, better with the pants off. If Commodore had dropped his jeans, Paul could have deep-throated him easier, and the whole situation would have been simpler.

But that wasn’t what he did — he sucked through the fly of Commodore’s jeans. That made it feel to Commodore like this was a passionate, torrid affair, that Paul was overcome by lust too powerful to wait for him to take Commodore’s pants off, and by extension, that Commodore should feel the same way.

Another trick that Paul had worked out over the years was to suck as loudly and as messily as possible. That excited more of Commodore’s senses while again making it seem like the blowjob was the most intense experience of his life. Spit dripped in gobs onto Commodore’s jeans, making a big stain — Commodore was going to have to justify that to his niggas by saying that it felt so good he didn’t care about his pants getting messy.

How much time you got left, nigga? Shoot yo’ load!

Commodore’s hands drifted down and held on to Paul’s head, and Paul submitted to his dick. He allowed Commodore to hold onto his head and piston his hips, fucking Paul’s face like an alpha macho thug. Paul even gagged up a ball of spit that soaked Commodore’s sagging jeans.

Paul loved the feeling of submission he got when he serviced thugs like Commodore. He had bragged about how good he was at sucking dick, but the truth of the matter was that he was simply good at opening his throat wide. He was willing and able to submit to throat-fucking more intense than most gay men, and that was enough to convince straight niggas like Commodore that Paul was genuinely good at sucking cock.

“Holy fuckin’ shit, nigga,” Commodore murmured. He bucked his hips, moving his dick in a little circle in Paul’s throat. “You got some skills, I can’t deny that. Gonna have to write a song ‘bout this, make sure everyone know all about it.”

Paul blushed, though no one could see it. Commodore’s eyes were closed as he slammed his dick into Paul’s throat. Paul used one hand to gently tease his balls while his other caressed Commodore’s smooth asscheeks.

One minute left!

It all happened so fast. Paul saw that the timer on his phone was nearly done — he actually had less than a minute left — so he hurried himself up. He used both hands to play with Commodore’s balls just as he felt them rise up in their hairy sac.

“Yeah, nigga, taste that shit, fuck…” Commodore belted out as he nutted right onto Paul’s tongue.

Then cum flew into Paul’s mouth. It was a thick and creamy load that tasted like cocoa butter and dirty jeans, along with the familiar sour-salty flavor of jizz. He moaned as the taste overwhelmed him. Commodore’s cockmeat spasmed and throbbed in his mouth.

His nose nuzzled deep in Commodore’s crotch, Paul kept on draining every drop he could. His tongue flicked up and down the shaft as he gathered semen in his mouth, teasing Commodore’s sensitive cock.

Above his head, Commodore writhed like his blowjob was painful. He smacked his hands against the walls so loud it made the men in the front room clap and cheer. He snorted and snarled like an angry bull, like his orgasm pissed him off as he filled Paul’s throat with his seed.

That sounds like heaven to me!

Lemme in next, nigga!

Paul kept sucking, just as hard as when he started, and didn’t stop until Commodore made him stop. Even when Commodore signaled he was done, Paul slathered spit on his shaft and gurgled on his veiny thickness. He pushed himself to deep-throat Commodore’s limp dick.

That made Commodore visibly uncomfortable. He gasped and contorted, his broad muscles rippling beneath the stylish thuggery he wore. His fists pounded at the wall behind him.

Finally Commodore physically removed Paul’s head.

“Damn, nigga…” Commodore said. He shook his head.

“That was seven minutes in heaven,” Paul said after swallowing that massive load. The thick and cummy flavor clung to his tongue, and he savored the taste as his body buzzed with sexual desire. He wanted to sit here in front of Commodore and lick his cock all day. He did precisely that until Commodore pulled his sensitive flesh away. Paul was disappointed and he didn’t hide it. He grabbed for Commodore’s dick. “What’d you think?”

Commodore just sighed and tucked his dick away. “That was… Shit, nigga… I don’t even know how to respond to that. That was definitely seven minutes in somewhere — if it was heaven, I just might have to start goin’ to church, nigga.”

He walked away then. Paul was satisfied to see him go. He had acquitted himself well, he thought, and he hoped Commodore would spread the word to other high-class thugs like him. Paul hoped the City Barbershop was going to crawl with sexy studs from now on.

Alpha Cellmate: The Gangsta

Here’s the first chapter from the beginning of Alpha Cellmate: The Gangsta, a hot new tale by Curtis Kingsmith! It’s part of the Brutewood Medium Security Penitentiary series!

Barry knew that his best option in prison was to lean into it. He was a thin, flamboyant twink with a girlish figure and long, flowing blond hair. People had been making jokes about how “poorly” he’d do in prison since he was a little boy and it had become obvious he was gay. You better not drop the soap, Barry! Unless you’re into that… Even before Barry knew what it meant, he knew he was very much into that. He was going to have to use his feminine grace and beauty to survive prison.

But Barry wasn’t worried. He was excited.

He used to participate in gay prison sex role-playing. His ex-boyfriend had once paid two thousand dollars for him to be “raped” by a cellmate in a nightclub in Miami. That had been the sexiest experience of Barry’s life.

But he hoped real prison life would set a new record for sexy experiences. As he strode naked through Brutewood Prison, his orange jumpsuit in his hands, Barry shook his ass and beamed for the prisoners, who filled the cell block with hollering.

Fresh fish!

Damn, that is one sexy fish!

He’s mine! I called it!

I saw him first!

None of that meant Barry was glad to be in prison. He had been convicted of fraud due to a minor misunderstanding, and since he had a gun with him at the time, the fraud charge turned into a major felony. He was sentenced to five years, which was a lot less sexy that five years of hardcore prison role-playing. He wanted more than anything to be free.

But he couldn’t be released for at least two years even with good behavior, or so his lawyer had said. Barry felt confident he could do two years. He just needed to find a sufficiently big, tough and sexy prison alpha he could worship in exchange for protection. That was exactly what he wanted to do on the outside, and in here, it would have practical benefits as well.

Officer Armstrong gestured to one small cell near the stairs in a corner of the cell block. “That’s your cell,” he said.

Barry took a step towards the doorway only to be interrupted by a flurry of movement behind him.

It was a middle-aged black man, with tinges of silver in his cornrows and a body that made Barry drool — his name was Thumper White. He was an ex-boxer who was behind bars for murder, having accidentally killed another fighter in an unlicensed match, and he retained all the finessing power of his athlete days. He no longer had a six-pack, but that was fine with Barry, who liked a little meat on his men.

“Give him to me, Armstrong,” Thumper said. “I need a cellmate.” He ignored the tittering laughter that erupted.

There was an elderly man in the cell in front of Barry. He was Barry’s would-be cellmate, and he looked at Barry now like he felt sorry for him. Barry shivered in anticipation.

Officer Armstrong sighed and held up a hand for silence — the other thugs all began hooting at Thumper’s words. Armstrong barked at them until they fell silent. Then Armstrong cleared his throat. “Uh… Thumper, you know I have to move him into the cell he was assigned. He can always request a transfer but-“

“Shut the fuck up, Armstrong. You owe me a favor. Here it is,” Thumper said. “This is what I want.” He looked at Barry and whistled. He licked his lips. His eyes roved up and down Barry’s body, stopping to check out his plump ass.

The other thugs who watched all laughed, seemingly were embarrassed for Thumper, like he was an uncle who said inappropriate things at holiday get-togethers. Somebody slapped Thumper’s ass too, but Thumper ignored them. He kept his eyes trained on Barry’s ass.

“Fine,” Armstrong said. He looked to Barry. “You queer?”

Barry nodded. He blushed as the rest of the inmates clapped and cheered like they had never found a gay man before. Barry’s heart raced. Virtually every man here was so sexy he’d have gladly worshiped every inch of their bodies. Even the ones who were a bit fat or nerdy-looking were plenty sexy, with tattooed bodies bursting with muscles, harsh glaring eyes and square jaws. Barry was so excited his dick was already getting hard.

“Okay,” Armstrong said with a shrug. “He’s yours, Thumper. Don’t break him. I ain’t gonna replace him if you break him.”

Thumper clapped his hands and smiled broadly. He dropped to his knees in front of Barry, whose eyes opened wide. Armstrong walked away, and the other inmates formed a circle around Thumper and Barry.

“What’s yo’ name, blondie?”

“Barry.”

“Barry…” He said it with a shudder, like the name itself was arousing. “My name is Thumper.” He took Barry’s hand as though going to propose, but then he extended Barry’s ring finger and sucked it. He licked the entirety of the finger and slathered so much spit that it dripped onto the prison floor. “I love you, Barry. I am gonna fuck you so hard and so good yo’ asshole gonna fall off.”

“Okay!” Barry was so excited he was giddy like a newlywed. He had hoped something rather like this would happen, but he didn’t think it would be so soon, or that he would have a chocolate god like Thumper to worship. His heart leapt up in his chest. “Yes!” Barry squealed. “I accept!”

“That wasn’t no question,” Thumper said. “But I’m glad you’re onboard.” He swept Barry up into his arms and carried him through the crowd.

Barry curled his face up so he didn’t have to look at the multitude of jeering faces, and so he could bury his nose in Thumper’s bicep. The other inmates actually seemed to be teasing Thumper more than Barry — it turned out Thumper was unique in that he had no shame in his prison sexuality. A lot of these man had bitches they fucked at night, behind closed curtains, and then tried to keep it a secret the next day, but only Thumper would openly declare his intentions in front of everyone.

You fuckin’ that fresh fish yet, Thump?!

Thumper had a corner cell. That meant it was a bit bigger than most anyone else’s — Thumper had had to pull some strings to get assigned this cell. He was a gangsta like that, Barry eventually learned, and he always found a way to get what he wanted in here. There were two bunks in the cell, but Thumper used the bottom one as a shelf for his clothes.

“You don’t get that bunk,” Thumper said when he walked into the cell. A gaggle of thugs had followed, mostly young gangstas who probably had never had sex with a man, all of them watching like they were seeing a trainwreck as it happened. Thumper deposited Barry on his feet in the cell.

“Oh. Okay-“

“We gonna share the top bunk. Gonna be snug,” Thumper said. “But I like it snug. I like a challenge, y’know, a bit of a struggle fittin’ everything in.”

“Okay-“

“You ain’t gotta tell me you agree wit’ me,” Thumper said. He smiled. “I’m in charge here. I make the decisions. All you gotta do is look pretty and follow directions. Can you do that?”

“Yes, sir,” Barry said. His dick was harder than it had ever been.

Thumper let out a low, rumbling growl, like he was turning into a werewolf. His eyes narrowed to slits. His dick visibly jerked to attention in his orange prison pants.

Why ain’t that whiteboi cryin’ yet, Thump? You slippin’ in yo’ old age.

“Boy… Keep callin’ me sir. If you is tryin’-a make my nuts explode, you doin’ an excellent job,” he said.

“Thumper… I love worshiping big black thugs like you. I’m going to worship every inch of your body. I’ll obey your every command,” Barry said. He sunk to his knees as the inmates outside the cell cheered. Barry knelt over and kissed Thumper’s toes where they stuck out from his dirty prison-issued slippers. “If you can fuck me so hard your dick explodes, I’d just suck your asshole instead. Sir.”

Another growl escaped from Thumper’s lips. He licked his lips. Then he got behind Barry, grabbing him by the neck and pushing his face up against the cell bars.

The thugs outside the cell all took a step back as pain erupted in Barry’s sides where he collided with the bars. One of the thugs, a dreadlocked Jamaican with a cruel sneer on his face, pinched Barry’s nose and tugged on his ear as though he wasn’t sure Barry was real.

Thumper spoke directly into Barry’s ear, loud enough that everyone could hear. “Boy… Don’t you say things you can’t back up. Cuz I ain’t gonna stop. I will destroy that ass.” He smacked Barry’s cheeks. “I do it nasty, and I do it hard. I don’t need yo’ permission, but I’m glad to have it. I will eat that permission up.” He made slobbery gobbling sounds, which everyone else laughed at. Barry was so aroused and excited he couldn’t do anything more than twitch beneath Thumper’s tight grasp. Thumper’s hand slipped between Barry’s bare cheeks and massaged the surface of his asshole. He didn’t stick it in yet, just hugged the rim. “Damn, boy. For a faggot, you got a nice, tight ass.”

“Thank you sir.”

Once again, calling him sir made Thumper groan with excitement. He stepped away and hurried to tack up a sheet over the cell bars, preventing anyone from seeing inside. It was a thin, gauzy sheet though, so it didn’t exactly provide a lot of privacy.

Let us watch, Thumper! I let you watch me train my bitch last month!

“You keep callin’ me sir, boy, and I just might treat you right,” Thumper said like it was a threat. Before Barry could respond, Thumper barked at the men outside the cell, who tried to pull the sheet down as Thumper put it up. “No, niggas! Get the fuck away! There’s still room to stew another nigga up in this pot, and yo’ ass looks like it’ll taste real nice!”

Barry bent over before Thumper turned around. He wanted to be as subservient as possible, so he stuck his ass high in the air. He spread his asscheeks when Thumper saw him, and twinkled his asshole. That made Thumper growl so loud the men outside the cell all cheered.

The crowd began to disperse though, now that they couldn’t see anything but a silhouette of Thumper looking down at Barry’s bare ass. Thumper rubbed the cheeks with one hand, while his other caressed his own nipples. Barry was glad he had shaved his ass smooth right before coming to Brutewood.

“I see you winkin’ yo’ boipussy at me. I am pickin’ up what you is puttin’ down, bitch, and I like it. I might write a letter of appreciation to yo’ mama, boy. Tell her she made you up right,” Thumper said. “But I ain’t gonna fuck yo’ ass yet. I got time, boy. I ain’t gonna rush into fuckin’ that sweet booty you got. Gonna build up some of dat anticipation. That way when I finally get up in yo’ guts, I gonna cum for days. Whatchoo think ‘bout dat?”

“I’m disappointed,” Barry said. “But I’m excited too. I like anticipation-“

“Shut up, bitch.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Get on yo’ knees and open your mouth.”

“Yes, sir,” Barry said. He sunk to the ground. “Please facefuck me as hard as you can. I love it when big alphas abuse my throat-“

Thumper playfully slapped his cheek. It wasn’t hard, just enough to make a loud smacking noise. “Don’t you tell me how to fuck you. I am gonna abuse yo’ throat, boy, but not cuz you want it that way.”

“Yes, sir.” Barry opened his mouth wide. He looked upward so Thumper could see his open throat, and he wiggled his tongue like he gave an imaginary rimjob to the air.

Thumper sneered and snarled. His chest was flush and his dick was hard even before he got it out of his dingy brown boxer shorts. Barry was glad to see that Thumper’s dick did not disappoint — it was thick and long and hoggish and veiny, exactly how Barry liked it.

He didn’t wait for Thumper. Barry wanted to impress him so he dove right down on Thumper’s manhood, deep-throating it in one fluid motion. Thumper tasted unwashed, like Barry was licking clean every one of the prison thugs who remained outside the cell, trying to see what was going on through the sheet-curtain.

Wuzzup in there? You break dat whiteboi yet, Thump?

He ain’t gonna break him, he gonna fall in love wit’ him.

Thumper? He gonna both break him and fall in love wit’ him. Not in that order.

“Shut the fuck up,” Thumper said to the other watching inmates. “Ain’t you got somethin’ better to do than sneak peeks at my cock? That ain’t gangsta, niggas. Go on and do some push-ups or some shit.” Despite Thumper’s words, only a few men moved away.

That was fine with Barry, who loved the humiliation of the entire prison knowing that he was being treated like a bitch in here. They’d treat him like a lowly dog for the rest of his prison stay, and Barry was alright with that.

When Barry removed his head to take a breath, Thumper grabbed his scalp and held on. He clucked his tongue. “Nah,” he said. He groaned loudly. “You don’t pull off my dick, okay? You can move yo’ head up to the tip, like here-“ He stopped with just the tip of his cock in Barry’s mouth. “But you don’t let it come out. You can take a breath through yo’ nose. I am gonna punish you if you let it fall outta yo’ mouth, bitch. Got it? Say yes, sir without taking my dick out.”

“Esh-shir,” Barry said, the words making a puddle of spit spill from his mouth around Thumper’s cock. He breathed around the meat in his mouth and through his nostrils, then deep-throated Thumper again.

Generating as much saliva as he could, Barry gurgled and sputtered as moisture soaked into Thumper’s crotch. Both men’s faces turned red — Barry’s from lack of oxygen, and Thumper’s from sexual fulfillment. Barry liked making this blowjob loud and burbly because it made the cell block gangstas on the other side of the bars nervously mutter and giggle like schoolchildren watching their first porno movie.

He loved making Thumper feel so good his body shook and vibrated, and Barry even managed to impress him by sneaking the tip of his tongue out between Thumper’s dick and Barry’s jaw. He flickered his tongue onto the root of Thumper’s cock. It was a small gesture, but Thumper appreciated it.

“Damn, bitch, you been trained good. You got a nigga on the outside turnin’ you out? Nevuhmind, don’t answer that. Yo’ mouth is full. Whatever nigga trained you, write his name down so I can send him a thank-you letter,” Thumper said. His gravelly voice was tense, pinched, trying to hold back on his enthusiasm because it wasn’t very gangsta for an inmate to be this excited about a blowjob from a man.

He sensed that Thumper’s orgasm was imminent, and Barry wanted to prolong this, but at the same time, he didn’t want Thumper to get salty with him. In any case, Thumper had forbidden him from taking a break, so there wasn’t a lot that Barry could do to slow down Thumper’s climax.

“Damn, nigga, yeah! Gonna fill that bitch-mouth up wit’ my nigga-nut. Use bot’ yo’ hands,” Thumper said, his voice low and reedy like he wasn’t sure he could survive this orgasm. He dragged both of Barry’s hands to Thumper’s cockshaft. “Don’t swallow yet.”

The veins of Thumper’s dick spasmed and pulsated as he nutted. His dick throbbed, and the salty-sour flavor of his cum filled Barry’s mouth. Thumper kept just the tip of his dick in Barry’s mouth, that way most of it stayed right there instead of spilling out or flowing down his gullet.

Thumper groaned so loud it made everyone cheer, even the inmates who had wandered away. They were chanting, but they weren’t all chanting the same thing, so Barry heard only a confused melange of words about fresh fish, niggas and cum. Thumper’s brown boxer muscles all tensed at once, and he slapped Barry’s cheek just hard enough to make a sharp smacking noise that echoed in the cell.

Cum drained into Barry’s mouth, sticking to his skin. It was hot and thick, dense, creamy, exactly how Barry loved. It tasted like candy and sweat and the flavor of Thumper’s toes when Barry had licked them just a few minutes ago.

“Now show those niggas yo’ mouth. I wanna make ‘em look at my nut,” Thumper said. He opened the sheet curtain.

Barry blushed beet-red as he saw that the gaggle of inmates had only grown since Thumper had blasted his nut — they must have known this was coming. A few of the men near the front had their massive limp cocks out, and they banged them against the cell bars as everyone cheered. Barry wanted to start sucking on them all, but he suspected Thumper would be angry about that.

“Tell them you love my cock,” Thumper said. He stood behind the sheet so no one could see him. He smiled at Barry, who gagged even before he managed to speak.

Cum ran down his cheeks in rivulets. Finally he managed to choke out I love Thumper’s cock, but the only sound he made was a moist choking that no one could hear because they cheered so loud. It seemed they understood what was happening though. One of them even stuck his finger in Barry’s mouth, spreading cum over his face until Thumper closed the curtain.

“Okay, bitch. You can swallow,” Thumper said. He got down on his knees and watched.

Barry had never been more aroused, and he had never wanted to swallow cum more. It tasted deliciously sweet, and it was still warm and creamy when he swallowed it. It coated his throat and his stomach, and he could feel its warmth spreading to every corner of his insides.

“Good,” Thumper said. “We are gonna have a lotta fun together, bitch.”

“Yes, sir. I can’t wait.”

Twinks Top Too: The Prison Bottom

Here’s the first chapter of Twinks Top Too: The Prison Bottom, the first story in a brand-new series as well as part of Brutewood Minimum Security Penitentiary!

Lao only had two weeks left on his prison sentence, and he had never wanted to leave more badly. He was finally in protective custody, which turned out to be very boring. He had no cellmate, and he was rarely allowed out of his cell.

Not that he was complaining. When he was in general population, and the other inmates had found out he was gay — which happened right away, because Lao was a lithe, limp-wristed twink — he was the victim of a series of cruel attacks. That had been more than a year ago. It felt like much longer than that. He couldn’t believe he had only been in prison for fourteen months.

When his cell door opened up, Lao was shocked even before he saw who it was. Everything at Brutewood prison was regular and predictable, so it wasn’t often that someone came to his cell without it being planned ahead of time.

But this was someone Lao didn’t know, as far as he could remember; it was a black man in a shirt and tie, his clothes awkward and ill-fitting like he didn’t often dress so nicely. He had a smooth chin and cornrows in his hair, which was incongruous, Lao thought, with the more formal clothing. He smiled broadly. “My name is Marcus Greggs,” he said. “I’m a police officer, I work for this prison. I investigate crimes among the inmate population.”

“Oh… You look familiar, do we know each other?” Lao asked. He was excited, glad to be interacting with someone who didn’t want a blowjob. That didn’t happen often.

Lao loved sucking cock. He was a bottom by heart and by nature. He especially loved sucking off big buff black thugs, so when he came to prison, he thought he’d use his cock-sucking to protect himself. He knew he’d be a prison bottom anyway, so he decided to volunteer for it rather than wait for the decision to be made for him. He thought he could get on some important men’s good sides by sucking them off.

That worked for a little while. But they expected him to suck off the whole gang, and Lao hadn’t wanted to do that, at least not every single day. So he had requested protective custody, and as a result, the entire Nine Tats gang had declared Lao persona non grata.

“You might remember me from a few months ago. I carried myself differently then, I didn’t look the same as I do now,” Officer Greggs said. He sighed like he didn’t want to have this conversation. “And I didn’t wear a suit then. I was naked. I was…-“

“You were in the shower!” Lao shouted. He suddenly recalled where he knew Officer Greggs from. He was the thug — Tirade had been his fake name — who had threatened to stab Lao for fun, just to “watch his blood pour down the shower drain”.

Lao recalled the incident well, because it was so scary he had asked for protective custody. He had wanted to suck off Tirade even despite the threat, but it had become apparent that he wasn’t able to suck off just one thug, but not the dozens of men (most of them fat or old or gross or all three) who filled the shower at the same time. That was the final straw, that was when Lao realized he couldn’t handle the mess he had created for himself by volunteering to be a prison bottom.

“That’s right. I went by Tirade then,” he said. “I wanted you to know…” he cleared his throat nervously. “I would never have let them rape you. I knew the guards were coming, they wouldn’t let anything happen-“

“I did get my ass kicked before going to protective custody,” Lao said, crossing his arms over his chest. He had been told that Tirade sent the three thugs who beat Lao within an inch of his life. Now it turned out Tirade was an undercover cop the entire time?

“I know. That’s why I’m here to apologize. That wasn’t supposed to happen. I didn’t tell them to do that,” he said. “They thought I wanted to… I played God with your life, Mr. Zhang, and I should not have. I was trying to pass as a gang boss, so I couldn’t show any mercy at the time; I couldn’t let anyone know that I wanted to protect you. I can’t sleep at night because of what I caused to happen to you.” He wiped a tear away.

“Ah, Officer Greggs… Don’t beat yourself up over it-“

“I won’t,” he said. “You can.” He sniffed back his tears and forced a wan smile onto his face.

“What? You want me to beat you up?”

“Uh… Well, not exactly. If that’s what you want to do, that’s fine too. But I came here to apologize to you, in, uh… well, the Brutewood way, I guess you could call it,” he said. He took a deep breath and got on his knees like he was going to beg for forgiveness. “I’ll suck your dick, Mr. Zhang. I know that won’t undo what you went through, but I hope it might make up for it just a little bit.”

Was this really happening? Lao’s heart skipped a beat. He was a thin, weak twink in prison, so he had been sucking a lot of cock and taking more than a few in the ass, but he hadn’t topped anyone since well before coming to Brutewood. Lao was a bottom by nature, so that hadn’t really been a problem, but now that he realized he was going to receive a blowjob, Lao wanted it more than anything.

Officer Greggs sunk to the ground. He opened his mouth even before he pulled Lao’s orange prison pants down, as though he was eager to get started (more likely eager to finish, Lao thought). His muscles rippled beneath his button-down shirt.

“Wait, sweetie, if we’re gonna do it, let’s do it right,” Lao said. He leaned down, intending to kiss Officer Greggs on the forehead. But then it looked like he wouldn’t fight it if Lao kissed him on the lips, so he did that instead.

Officer Greggs had full, plump lips that quivered as he kissed Lao back. Lao pushed his tongue in, but Officer Greggs’ tongue remained limp and only moved around at all after a few minutes of one-sidedly passionate kissing.

Yo, nigga, whatchoo doin’ in there? You fuckin’ that Chinaboi, Greggs? I ain’t think you was that kinda cop.

Undercover piggie! Undercover piggie!

The other inmates on the cell block heard enough to know something was happening, but not enough to figure out what it was — and it would probably never occur to them that Greggs might start sucking Lao’s dick instead of the other way around. It seemed they all hated Greggs, and they all already knew that he had been undercover; Lao, as usual, was the last to find out.

Lao’s pants were around his ankle, his ample cockmeat already rock-hard even as neither he nor Greggs had touched it. Lao pulled his lips away from Officer Greggs’ mouth, and aimed his cock in that direction. Still nervous that this might be a trap, Lao waited for Officer Greggs to open up again and swallow it down.

Bite it off, Lao!

His lips trembling with anxiety, Officer Greggs did force himself to suck down Lao’s dick, after taking a deep breath and closing his eyes. He gagged when it hit the back of his throat, but then his whole body relaxed as though it didn’t turn out to be as gross as he had thought it would.

After a few moments of awkward stillness, Officer Greggs moved his head up and down. The motion sent waves of pleasure up Lao’s body as he felt the tight moistness of Greggs’ mouth caress his shaft.

Lao gasped, surprised that Greggs had really gone through with it. He threw his head back and suppressed a moan because he was worried about making it obvious who was on bottom and who was on top. The other inmates would never respect Officer Greggs if they found out he had submitted to an inmate — willingly! — and sucked cock.

But the pleasure that rocked his body now was so intense that Lao struggled to keep quiet. Every fiber of his being wanted to scream and shout, to grab that sexy cornrowed head and ride Griggs like a prison bitch.

“Damn, Officer Greggs, you suck dick like a fuckin’ champion,” Lao said, whispering softly. Greggs looked up at him but didn’t respond. He lips were tightly enclosed around Lao’s throbbing cock.

Soon precum leaked down Greggs’ throat and coated his gullet. He gurgled, again like he hated it though he didn’t fight it or slow down in the slightest. Lao got more and more excited that this was really happening, and his inhibitions diminished.

He grabbed ahold of Officer Greggs’ scalp — after all, this was Brutewood Prison and violent facefucking was the norm here; Lao had rather enjoyed being a prison bottom for that kind of aggressive throat-based copulation, so it made sense to top Greggs in the same way now. Lao moaned as he pistoned his hips and jammed his dick all the way down Greggs’ throat.

He produced copious spit, which dripped onto his button-down shirt until he took it off. Lao loved the sight of his rippling chest, which grew sweaty in the overheated cell as he sucked harder and harder.

Finally Officer Greggs couldn’t take it. He tapped Lao on the asscheeks to signal he needed a break, and Lao pulled off. Greggs gagged and choked, producing a puddle of spit on the floor of the cell. He frowned at himself and looked up to Lao.

He fuckin’ you good, Lao! Report that bastard! You can snitch on a snitch, that’s a rule!

You can’t snitch on a snitch, nigga, that’s still snitchin’. You can stab a snitch. You can shoot a snitch. You can slit a snitch’s throat like he a old sick horse. But no snitchin’, not even here in the snitch’s ward.

“Damn, you taste better than I expected,” he said, breathless and hoarse. “But I wasn’t expecting it to be like that. Your dick didn’t seem that big in the shower.”

Lao blushed. “I mean… I was just doing it like I thought I was supposed to. What were your asking for if not a prison facefucking the Brutewood way.”

He nodded and flared his nostrils. “I did a lot when I was undercover, a lot of things that I feel bad about now. This is how God wishes to punish me,” he said. “So you should do it… however you wish.”

You guys taking a break from yo’ lovemakin’ in there, huh? You bite it off, Lao?

Are you sure that was Lao? His voice sounded too deep to be that prancing Chinaman. Maybe he brought someone else in during the night.

Yo, Greggs, who you fuckin’ right now!?

A part of Lao was insulted by Greggs’ attitude — hadn’t the gay community come far enough that gay sex couldn’t be seen as divine punishment? But prison life was a parade of insults and unfair punishment, so he didn’t think he should say anything. Besides that, he certainly wasn’t going to talk Officer Greggs out of continuing the blowjob.

After a few seconds of heavy breathing, Officer Greggs opened his saliva-and-precum-clogged mouth, which made him gag again. Lao dropped his silky-haired balls in there, and giggled when Officer Greggs trembled. Lao’s ballflesh tingled in his mouth as his day-long layer of sweat dripped down Greggs’ throat. Lao was ticklish, so he couldn’t help but laugh even as pre-orgasmic pleasure ran up his spine from his sensitive scrotum-skin.

“Sorry, sweetie, I just needed a little ball-sucking,” Lao whispered. He put the tip of his dick back in, and Greggs loudly sucked on it. He made a sour face at the taste of precum. Lao closed his eyes and shuddered as potent feelings overcame him, washing over him like a bolt of pain shot through him.

Instincts took over again, and Lao resumed his facefucking. It was an awkward position, with Lao on his toes to reach Officer Greggs’ mouth with his crotch, while Greggs himself had to stoop down unnaturally low. Lao had never felt shorter than he did before coming to Brutewood, where most of the men were giant hulking brutes, but now he felt especially short, like some sort of dwarf trying to make his way in the world of man.

As his orgasm approached, Lao tried to slow himself down. He didn’t want to rush through this, and it felt so good he would have let it last forever if he could. But Officer Greggs sucked like he knew what he was doing, and he slathered spit all up and down the shaft of Lao’s spasming dick. Lao wanted to cum so bad he could explode.

“God damn, Greggs…” Lao blushed and grunted. He had never been this excited during sex before, not even when he lost his virginity. He wasn’t even facefucking Greggs anymore; he just stood there on weak knees while Greggs deep-throated him with every noisy, moist-suckling thrust of his head all the way down on Lao’s spasming cockmeat.

At last, Lao felt his orgasm approach. He wished he could prolong it, but he knew that wasn’t reasonable — this felt entirely too good for him to slow himself down. He could feel the climax slamming into him like a speeding train.

“Here I cum,” Lao said, his voice tense, reedy and pinched because it took all of his concentration to keep his voice down. Even with that, he could tell the inmates in the other cells questioned what was happening; they still didn’t believe that Greggs was on bottom and Lao was on top, but they seemed to accept that whatever was going on was not typical. They hooted and hollered; Lao blushed as he was overwhelmed by orgasm.

He was about to ask Officer Greggs if he was willing to swallow or not — at Brutewood, it was always assumed a prison bitch would swallow but Lao didn’t want to make that assumption — then Lao’s climax surprised him. Lao’s knees buckled and he dug his fingertips into Greggs’ cornrowed head.

A torrent of hot cum sprayed down Greggs’ throat. He gagged and sputtered on it, but he didn’t try to pull away, he just accepted it like a real prison bitch. He let every drop drain down his spasming gullet, and the hot, creamy cum pooled in his belly.

Damn, Lao, he fucked you good!

Greggs, you sound like a faggot when you get a blowjob. You get girls soundin’ like that?

Lao was spent. He couldn’t even think about what to do next. It took all of his focus not to collapse on a sweaty heap on the floor in the center of his cell. He couldn’t even crawl back to his bunk right now. The only thing keeping him upright was the aftershocks of orgasm running through him as his dick slowly softened in the tight warm mouth of Officer Greggs.

Eventually though, Greggs had enough. He removed Lao’s dick and spat what cum remained onto the ground. His light brown skin blushed a deep reddish color as he listened to the other inmates tease whoever had just sucked cock — which they assumed was Lao, but was actually Greggs. Greggs glared at Lao as though this had been Lao’s idea.

“Alright, Mister Zhang,” he said, pulling pubic hairs out of his lips as Lao’s fat cock plopped against Officer Greggs’ rough-hewn face. “That’s enough. I’m sorry I was unable to protect you when I was undercover. My investigation wasn’t worth getting you hurt. But we’re even now; I’m not coming back here again.”

“Okay…” Lao’s voice trailed off as he plopped onto his bunk, stark naked and dazed. He barely even noticed as Officer Greggs fixed his shirt, then took a deep breath and walked out with his head held high.

Str8 Till Dark: Bathmates

Here’s the entirety of Str8 Till Dark: Bathmates, a new story by Dusty Richols. It’s part of the Str8 Till Dark series of hardcore gay erotica about what straight alpha males do when the lights go out! If you like it, also check out the Str8 Till Dark 12-Story bundles! (The megabundles do not contain this particular story.)

When Miles and Hawthorn had promised they would finish the fence today, they hadn’t realized how long it would take. Miles assumed that Hawthorn was more experienced at fence construction, and Hawthorn assumed likewise. Neither wanted to sound like they couldn’t get it done.

So the fence wasn’t complete until the sun had very nearly gone down. Miles breathed a sigh of relief. It was still his first year as a ranchhand at Prairie Stone Ranch in Colorado, and he needed to prove his worth to Mr. Carlton.

Hawthorn, on the other hand, had been here for six years. He was tall, broad-shouldered, tan-bodied. He that cocky swagger that all the experienced ranchhands around here had. He was much stronger and bigger than Miles in every way, and he carried himself like everyone knew he was the toughest hand in Colorado.

The other problem Miles hadn’t foreseen was that finishing the fence was hard work. It was simple, but it was hard, and his muscles ached by the time they were done. By then, it was getting cold as the sun went down, and then Miles realized the third problem.

They had finished the fence around the outer north pasture. They were almost three miles from the ranchhouse, and they didn’t have a horse. That was a lot of walking for two men who felt every step was arduous. Miles had never been more tired. He wished he hadn’t promised to finish the fence today (it didn’t even really need to be done until next week, there was no reason to rush like that).

By the time they got home, it was fully dark. The moon hid behind the clouds in the sky. Miles was drenched in sweat. Hawthorn had taken off his shirt, his broad golden-brown chest a silhouette gleaming with sweat. Miles wanted to take his shirt off too, but his deeply ingrained sense of propriety stopped him — Mrs. Carlton was around somewhere and could see him — and, though he didn’t want to admit it, he knew his skinny body would make him look weak in comparison to the bronzed blond god Hawthorn. He looked like some Renaissance artist’s impression of Apollo.

The only consolation was that Hawthorn was almost as exhausted as Miles was. He limped as they made it back to the ranchhouse. They could have gone straight to the little barn-cottage shared by Hawthorn, Miles and the other hands, but the showering barn was closer. They both wanted a shower before going to bed, and neither wanted to walk to the barn-cottage then walk back to the shower, then back to the barn-cottage again for bed. Miles thought his feet would fall off if he tried that.

It felt so good to take his boots off that Miles wasn’t sure he’d ever put them back on. He exulted in the breeze that blew through the barn as he slowly undressed. Then he headed towards the shower area — Prairie Stone Ranch had only gotten running water in the barn a few years ago, and it was still a primitive arrangement, little more than a hose that filled a bucket with holes on the bottom. But the water that sprayed over Miles’ body was hot, which felt good in the cold night air.

The only downside, Miles thought, was that he had to share the shower with Hawthorn. The ranchhands usually took turns, since the shower was very small, but neither wanted to take the time tonight.

“I ain’t waitin’ fer ya, and I don’t ‘spect you’ll wanna wait fer me,” Hawthorn said as his naked, sweat-gleaming body stepped into the steamy shower. “So come on in, pardner. We can be bathmates.” He whooped.

Miles didn’t have the energy to whoop along with him. But he followed him into the billowing clouds of steam. It felt good to wash off the layer of sweat and grime that had built up on Miles’ body. He felt like a new man.

“My pa always said not to be scared of a naked man,” Hawthorn said. It sounded like he was trying to reassure himself as much as Miles. “If you ain’t ashamed of yerself, you shouldn’t be worried about seeing a man without clothes on.”

Despite his words, Miles remained uncomfortable with the situation. He was used to showering by himself. He wasn’t a prisoner, after all, why should he share bathing facilities? He hadn’t done that since he was a little boy and he and his brother had bathed together.

But the main reason he didn’t like it had nothing to do with Hawthorn, or even with nudity really. Miles had worked hard to get a job on Prairie Stone Ranch, which was a nice enough place that the ranchhands got a real place to live, with indoor plumbing. There were ranches in the area who hired anyone, but the hands there lived like hogs. Miles was better than that, had worked hard to get a job somewhere nicer, and he deserved to have a shower to himself.

Not that he was complaining today. He wanted to get clean and flop into bed more than anything. He could handle showering with Hawthorn. It just made him nervous.

The sight of Hawthorn’s massive Texas cock made Miles awkward again though. He wondered if Hawthorn noticed that Miles’ dick was much smaller than his. Miles tried to angle his body away so maybe Hawthorn wouldn’t notice. It was still dark in the showering area, so Miles had to strain his eyes to see Hawthorn’s cock when moonlight flashed upon it. He kept his own crotch outside of the light, hoping Hawthorn wouldn’t look.

“So… You scared of naked men?”

“No,” Miles said. He gulped nervously as he caught a shadowy glimpse of Hawthorn stroking his dick. What was he doing?

“That’s good. You think tradition is important, Miles?”

“Yeah. Of course, tradition. Yessir,” Miles said. His heart raced. His father had warned him about cowboys like Hawthorn. Miles always thought he was kidding, but now maybe his predictions were coming true. Miles considered going over to the main house right now to tell Mr. Carlton.

But nothing much had happened yet. Mr. Carlton would just say that Miles was overreacting. He’d call Miles a pervert for having such improper thoughts — Mr. Carlton was a devout Christian who didn’t tolerate wrongdoing among his employees, especially wrongdoing of a sexual nature. Besides that, Miles didn’t want to gain a reputation as a tattler.

“This ranch has got a tradition,” Hawthorn said. He came closer to Miles, so close his thick cock brushed up against Miles’ thigh. He casually wrapped one of his massive arms over Miles’ shoulders.

“Oh…” Miles held his breath. He felt so small next to Hawthorn’s bulky body, and he wondered if he would get that big if he continued to work as a ranchhand for his whole life. It seemed impossible now; Miles had always been skinny, but his time at Prairie Stone Ranch had filled out his body considerably.

“You ain’t gotta join in, but you look like the kinda man who wanna do what’s right. You look like a man who behaves properly towards his elders and his betters. You gots respect, Miles, unlike a lot of them hands Mr. Carlton hired this year. You ain’t a welcher.”

“No, sir.” Miles trembled.

“Why don’t you get on your knees and open your mouth, boy?” Hawthorn said. He was speaking up to be heard over the water falling around him, but his voice was partially drowned out, so it sounded like he whispered. “Don’t worry. What happens between bathmates, stays between bathmates. That’s another tradition we got in these parts.”

“You sure? I don’t want them to know about it,” Miles said, gesturing towards the ranchhand house where their coworkers were no doubt drinking and carousing right now. That was what happened as soon as the sun went down every night, since Mr. Carlton strictly left them alone when they were done with their work for the day.

“They ain’t nevuh gonna know, boy,” Hawthorn said. He had a cocky grin on his face, chewing on his lower lip and rubbing the scruffle on his square jaw.

Miles sunk to his knees and opened his mouth. “My pa told me this was gonna be expected of me,” he said. He was nervous. He wanted to back out but his father had told him that he needed to fit in at whatever workplace he found. That was part of being an adult man — it might not be the traditions you would make if you were in charge, but you have to accept the traditions around you. “He said I gotta show proper respect.”

“Your pa is a wise man,” Hawthorn said. Then he pushed his dick past Miles’ lips. The taste of cockmeat enveloped Miles’ tongue. He closed his eyes though he couldn’t really say anything anyway in the dark barn — the only light that filtered through the clouds and the cracks in the barn ceiling illuminated Hawthorn’s cock. Miles didn’t want to see that, so he scrunched his eyes closed tight.

He gagged at first, but he had to admit it didn’t taste as bad as his father had led him to believe. It tasted like trail dust and saddle-leather Mrs. Carlton’s hog-fat soap; it tasted like sweat, salt and skin, and it made Miles both drool for more and wish he had told Hawthorn he didn’t want to do it.

“Yeah, rookie you suck dick pretty good,” Hawthorn said. His massive muscles rippled as he felt up his own nipples with one hand. His other hand grabbed ahold of Miles’ head, holding onto the thick shock of dirty blond hair on Miles’ scalp. He used that for leverage, holding Miles in place as he worked his dick deeper and deeper.

Precum overwhelmed Miles’ senses. It added a more intense salty flavor, and it made Miles gag all over again. He gripped Hawthorn’s plump asscheeks for support.

Soon Miles’ nose pressed into the meaty part of Hawthorn’s crotch, and the coarse pubic hairs of his groin scratched at Miles’ skin. Though Miles knew he was supposed to be ashamed of this — his pa had said he needed to submit, but it was still a sin he needed to get forgiveness for later — yet he inexplicably wasn’t. He didn’t want to look like he enjoyed it, but a part of him did treasure the sensation of Hawthorn’s thick meat sliding down his gullet. He enjoyed the thrill of being used by such a big, superior man.

A loud, spine-rattling moan escaped from Hawthorn’s lips. It sounded like he didn’t expect this to feel as good as it did, and he was trying to hide it just like Miles was. Hawthorn grunted with each thrust of his manhood down Miles’ throat.

“Now bend over and grab the floor, boy. Get yer ass up,” Hawthorn said with a growl. He pulled his moist cock out and humped Miles’ face like a dog. He groaned and shuddered, his massive cock pulsating and leaking precum all over Miles’ nose and lips.

Miles winced, and his heart raced as he got in position. He hoped this didn’t hurt as bad as his pa had predicted, but he had a feeling this was one area his father would be proven correct in. He grabbed the rough wooden floor, sticking his ass high in the air. He closed his eyes again, and held his breath in anticipation of what was about to happen. He left his ass as high in the air as he could.

That was a little too high. Hawthorn slapped his cheeks until Miles lowered himself to a correct height. His knees already ached from the tension of crouching in this position.

“Get down a little, boy, I ain’t that tall,” Hawthorn said with a grunt.

Then an eruption of pain in his ass distracted Miles from any soreness in his knees. The feeling exploded within him like a punch to the gut, but behind it all, he could feel a tingling pleasure emanating from his prostate. He grunted and howled, but bit his lip to cover up the sound — the barn where the ranchhands lived wasn’t that far away, so Miles didn’t want to make any noise. If he yelled loud enough here at the shower-barn, the other ranchhands would be able to hear him.

“Sssh, it’s okay,” Hawthorn said over and over. He grabbed Miles’ upper body and lifted his tense head up, whispering directly in his ear as he worked his dick in deeper and deeper.

The fucking was intense and overwhelming. Miles could do little more than try to submit, and to remind himself that when this was over, he would be accepted as a full-fledged ranchhand, not a rookie, but a successful worker. Getting Hawthorn on his side would guarantee that Miles got all the best jobs — Hawthorn was Mr. Carlton’s favorite.

Not that that made it easy to accept the agony of getting fucked. But Miles had to admit there was a faint glimmer of pleasure as well. If he had to do this again, once his ass was not as tight, he thought he might even be able to enjoy the feeling.

But he would never have admitted that, even assuming it came true. He certainly hoped that Hawthorn didn’t intend to do this often. For once, he thought, the lack of privacy that workers at Prairie Stone Ranch endured would work in his favor. Hawthorn wasn’t going to do this where anyone would see, and someone would see virtually everywhere, except right here in the bath.

Obviously, Miles thought, I need to shower alone from now on, no matter what.

His ass was loose enough now that Hawthorn could fuck him hard, slamming his dick in and out. Miles roared in pain and bliss, and he grabbed wildly around him, getting a handful of his own trail leathers and Hawthorn’s musty brown boots.

It suddenly occurred to Miles that, if Hawthorn was telling the truth about this being ranch tradition, then that meant that Hawthorn must have done it as well, when he was new. That made Miles feel better. He could picture Hawthorn in this position, bent over and moaning as he got fucked by some bigger ranchhand. Hawthorn had probably been skinny and lanky then, like Miles was now.

While Miles had started off experiencing incredible pain and a dimly-felt sense of pleasure roaring underneath that, now the situation had reversed. He was in the same position, but now the pleasure roiling deep within his ass was so intense he couldn’t think about anything else, while the tortuous agony in his virgin hole seemed like a distant memory that had happened years ago to someone else.

“Alright, boy, you almost done…” Hawthorn said, his gritty Texan accent resonating in the shower barn. “Here I go. Close your eyes, try to think ‘bout somethin’ else. Relax yerself.”

Miles pretended to do that, but really he was so overcome by pleasure and curiosity about what was happening to him that he didn’t want to ignore it. He didn’t want to think about something else. He wanted to think about this, the incredible, awe-inspiring thing that was happening to him, a thing he had never experienced or thought he would ever experience. It wasn’t even done yet, and Miles already knew this was going to change his life.

Luckily it was dark, so Hawthorn couldn’t see that Miles’ hand crept into his own crotch. Miles didn’t know what it meant that he want to pleasure himself while Hawthorn fucked him, but he wanted that more than anything.

As soon as he touched his own cock, Miles felt an orgasm hit him like a runaway bronco. He twitched and clenched down hard on Hawthorn’s dick, as though he was trying to rip Hawthorn’s meat off with his asshole. He roared and bucked, which looked to Hawthorn like he was resisting the pain of Hawthorn’s climax, but in actuality, Miles experienced the most incredible orgasm of his life. His spurted a puddle of cum onto the floor, where it immediately mixed with shower water and disappeared through the slats onto the ground below.

Then it was done — Hawthorn groaned and grunted, slamming his dick all the way into Miles’ ass. Miles let out a roar of pain, followed by a low, rolling grunt of pleasure.

“Here I go, boy… Good boy, takin’ my dick just like you should…”

Cum sprayed into him, a hot and thick load that Miles felt seeping into his flesh. He sighed, hoping Hawthorn didn’t notice the pleased rattling sound to his voice. This was the first time Miles had ever felt another man’s cum besides his own, and he was surprised by how much he liked it. It felt like a comforting internal blanket, warming up his insides and tingling like a kiss.

It seemed to take an impossible amount of time. Cum just kept pouring out of his cock, filling him up until it dripped down his thighs. Even then, Hawthorn remained still, his bulging muscles all tense and hard like iron, his craggy face still and stony. He waited until every drop of his seed had drained into Miles’ ass.

At last it was over. Miles didn’t know how long they stayed like that. He hadn’t even been aware of his own hand jacking himself off. He only realized what he had done because he saw his limp cock and his hand dripping with cum.

When Hawthorn pulled out, Miles let out a long, low sigh of relief. He had enjoyed it, but still, he was glad that it was all over. Now that his ass was empty, it was exquisitely sensitive, and Miles was so overwhelmed he couldn’t do anything but collapse onto the moist wooden floor of the barn. He laid there in the shower spray for an eternity.

“There you go, boy,” Hawthorn said. He spat on the ground. “You can tell yer pa you did good. You showed the propuh respect, boy. That’s important ‘round here. You showed respect fer tradition.” He smiled and stretched his limp cock.

“Yeah. Thanks,” Miles said. He blushed.

“Now that you done taken yer turn on the bottom,” he said. “You can always take a turn on top too, wit’ one of them new men. He gotta be newer and younger than you. That’s a rule.”

“Really?”

Hawthorn nodded. “You gotta keep it a secret too. Mr. Carlton knows, but he don’t wanna know, you pickin’ up what I’m puttin’ down?”

Miles nodded. “Sure. I’ll do that! I mean…” He hadn’t mean to sound so eager. “I’ll… Maybe I’ll do that. Some of those new guys have pretty nice asses.”

“Yes, they do. The new, young ones always do,” Hawthorn said with a grin. He smacked Miles’ ass, which jiggled. Hawthorn whistled as though it was impressive to see, though the barn was still dark as night, so he couldn’t have actually seen the cheeks jiggle. “Maybe we can shower again together sometime, boy. We can be permanent bathmates.”

Miles smiled. “Thanks, Hawthorn,” he said. “I think I’d like to be your bathmate very much.”

Cuckolded by a Redneck

Here’s an exciting new story called Cuckolded by a Redneck! It’s the latest by Ruby Redman, and it’s about a black woman getting down and dirty, redneck-style!

 

I felt very excited that day. Peter, my worthless, sissy husband had gone out grocery shopping and I knew he would be away for about thirty minutes. This was perfect because it gave me just enough time to get started on what I had planned, and then have him come in on me.

You see, I had been fantasizing about this redneck at work named Yoder. He had just started at the office, and was eager to prove himself. Therefore, when I had told him on Friday that I wanted him to come over during the weekend, he had said, “Yes, ma’am, I will be expecting your call. Just let me know.”

My juices began dripping when I was thinking about Yoder. His blue jeans, his ripped, sweaty upper body, his coy smile, his rugged, masculine face that was partly covered by his sexy cowboy hat. I could envision his musk, how he must taste, how he must feel inside of me.

Of course, Yoder had no reason to expect a booty call. He was probably just doing what his senior colleague had requested him to. When I had called him about an hour ago, he had told me that he would be on his way immediately.

“Who was that on the phone?” Peter had asked.

“Nobody,” I had said. “Now, go to the store.”

Peter, always obeying every little command, being the sissy he was, had taken off and now I was left waiting for my new, sexy redneck lover.

The doorbell rang and I opened the oak door. There he was.

He was quite the hunk, I had to admit. I had never been with a redneck before, and he, on the other hand, had probably never fornicated with a black woman. Would he enjoy filling up my tight vagina? Or pounding my firm, black ass? I wondered what his cock would taste like. I was sure it would be bigger than Peter’s. On the other hand, that wouldn’t take much. His dick was just too small, and couldn’t satisfy me. I needed a real man.

Now, with Yoder in front of me, I realized there was no going back. Up to this point, I could have let this all remain a fantasy, and I could even have called Yoder off on his way over. But now, as he stood there, seeing me in my revealing, sexy outfit, I knew that this was it. Yet, if he did understand my true motives, he made no notice of it. Instead, he greeted me politely, saying, “Howdy, ma’am, how’ya doin’? Here I am, hope I can be of service.”

Yes, you most certainly can, I thought to myself.

The Billionaire Story: Part One

Here’s the beginning of the first part of The Billionaire Story, a hot new tale of erotic action by Geraldine Stentorian and Stacy Steele! This is a three part story, and each part is hotter than the last!

On a Fridау аftеrnооn, ѕhоrtlу after mу tеnth birthdау, I ѕаt at thе kitсhеn tаblе with mу hеаd down оn mу folded аrmѕ, ѕоbbing. Mу mоthеr саmе over tо соmfоrt mе – ѕоrt оf.

“Whаt’ѕ thе mаttеr, Amy?” ѕhе asked, tоuсhing my ѕhоuldеr.

“It iѕn’t fаir, it juѕt isn’t,” I соntinuеd to ѕоb, nоt really аnѕwеring hеr question.

“Tеll me аbоut it, Amу.”

“Wеll, mу friеnd Jаmiе drорреd a рlаѕtiс bоttlе оut оf her bасkрасk whеn wе were gоing back tо class аftеr lunсh. I рiсkеd it uр but couldn’t rеturn it tо her уеt bесаuѕе thе bell sounded аnd ѕhе ѕitѕ on thе орроѕitе ѕidе of thе сlаѕѕrооm frоm mе. So I put it оn my desk ѕо thаt I wоuldn’t fоrgеt it,” I replied before stopping to ѕоb ѕоmе more.

“Sо whаt’ѕ thе problem?” Mom аѕkеd.

“Wеll whеn Mrѕ. Mоrtоn саmе by my desk a littlе whilе later ѕhе ѕаw the bоttlе – it wаѕ fоr something саllеd ‘Alive’ I think,” I соntinuеd before Mom intеrruрtеd mе.

“Aleve?” ѕhе аѕkеd.

“Yeah, thаt’ѕ it. So I hаd tо gо tо Prinсiраl Johnson’s оffiсе with it аnd he said that it wаѕ bаd for mе tо hаvе it and thаt I hаd tо ѕеrvе dеtеntiоn аll nеxt week.” I ѕоbbеd ѕоmе mоrе thеn lifted up my head tо look mу Mоm in thе eye. “I wаѕ trуing to dо thе right thing, but now I’m in trоublе – it’ѕ just not fair, Mom.”

“Did you tell the Principal thаt it wаѕ Jаmiе’ѕ bottle?” ѕhе asked.

“Nо, bесаuѕе whеn hе tоld me thаt it wаѕ ѕоmеthing kidѕ wеrеn’t allowed tо bring tо school I didn’t want to gеt hеr in trouble tоо,” I ѕnifflеd.

“Sometimes it mау seem thаt life just isn’t fair еvеn whеn уоu dо thе right thing,” ѕhе рhilоѕорhizеd whilе stroking mу hеаd; “but it’ѕ God’s will.”

I didn’t see how “Gоd’ѕ will” hаd anything tо dо with it, but thаt ѕееmеd to bе mу раrеntѕ’ сор-оut response tо еvеrу ԛuеѕtiоn. They nеvеr hаd a ѕоlutiоn, juѕt a trite аdаgе.

I was in a tоtаl funk until mу thirtееn year оld brother, Rоb, came home frоm bаѕkеtbаll рrасtiсе. Hе was my best friend, mу protector, аnd my аdvосаtе when mу rеligiоuѕlу ѕеvеrе раrеntѕ wаntеd tо punish mе fоr оnе transgression оr the оthеr аgаinѕt thе Lоrd, likе wanting tо рut lipstick оn.

“Knосk, knосk, Sԛuirt,” I hеаrd hiѕ fаmiliаr voice as the door to mу room ореnеd whilе I wallowed in ѕеlf-рitу оn my bed. Aѕ hе еntеrеd hе ѕаid “Whу thе long fасе?”

“Rоb, I got detention all next wееk fоr trуing tо dо the right thing,” I grumblеd, on the verge of another bout оf crying.

“Hеу, сооl Squirt,” wаѕ his smiling reply. “Nоw I’m nоt thе only black sheep of thе fаmilу.”

“Nо Rob, it’ѕ…”

“Listen, Sԛuirt, whеn оthеr реорlе аrе jеrkѕ you саn’t lеt it get уоu dоwn. You need some quality timе with уоur big bro, аnd you’ll fоrgеt all аbоut it,” he chuckled. Then he ѕtаrtеd to tickle mе until I аgrееd tо play mу fаvоritе vidео gаmе with him. Thеn he lеt mе win thе vidео gаmе (he ѕаid that hе didn’t but I knоw thаt hе did). Thеn he ѕреnt thе lаѕt оf his mоnеу frоm mоving lawns for neighbors tо tаkе mе fоr ice сrеаm еvеn though Mom would hаvе a conniption fit. Bу the timе that I wеnt tо bеd, I wаѕ a hарру camper.

I hаd a wide vаriеtу of оthеr dеmоnѕtrаtiоnѕ thаt lifе wаѕn’t fаir throughout mу teenage years. Thеѕе inсludеd Rоb getting ѕuѕреndеd fоr a wееk fоr beating thе ѕhit out оf three bоуѕ in mу grаdе who wеrе hаrаѕѕing mе bу grаbbing my еmеrging boobs (I wаѕ wеll аhеаd оf mу сlаѕѕmаtеѕ in thе tit dераrtmеnt) еvеn thоugh thе school itѕеlf tооk nо ѕignifiсаnt асtiоn against thеm; and whеn Rоb wаѕ ѕixtееn him hаving to go withоut a саr thаt he worked hаrd to buу with hiѕ own money whеn our fаthеr lеt thе insurance lарѕе and it was tоtаlеd bу a hit and run drivеr whеn it was in hiѕ wоrkрlасе раrking lot.

I dоn’t wаnt tо givе thе imрrеѕѕiоn that lifе has bееn соmрlеtеlу unfair to mе. I wаѕ bоrn with some ѕignifiсаnt аdvаntаgеѕ. They inсludеd hаving much better thаn аvеrаgе intеlligеnсе, much highеr thаn аvеrаgе empathy (which I соnѕidеr a benefit), аnd gооd lооkѕ.

As fаr аѕ gооd lооkѕ аrе соnсеrnеd, I wаѕ bоrn with, аnd dеvеlореd bу my оwn ѕwеаt, аll dеѕirаblе fеmаlе рhуѕiсаl equipment. Mу fасе wаѕ pretty еnоugh that I соuld hаvе bесоmе a mоdеl аѕ a tееn (аlthоugh mу parents wоuld hеаr nоthing оf it because “It wоuld bе соnѕоrting with thе dеvil”). I was соnѕtаntlу hit оn bу guуѕ whо саllеd mе either “Killеr,” аѕ in “killеr thighs,” оr “Buѕtу Betty,” because I hаd a full D bу the time thаt I wаѕ seventeen, or “Sultrу Suе,” bесаuѕе – wеll bесаuѕе I аѕѕumе thаt thеу thоught thаt I wаѕ ѕultrу.

Whеn I wаѕ ninеtееn I gоt аdmittеd to the соllеgе оf my сhоiсе. Mу раrеntѕ hаd аgrееd tо рау my expenses, whiсh wаѕ fоrtunаtе since thеir inсоmе was high еnоugh that I didn’t qualify fоr nееd bаѕеd ѕсhоlаrѕhiрѕ. Aftеr my firѕt semester, however, thе ѕituаtiоn changed. Quite unеxресtеdlу – at lеаѕt tо mе – mу раrеntѕ ended up gеtting divorced. The reason wаѕ even mоrе unеxресtеd givеn thе ѕеvеrе rеligiоuѕ beliefs thаt thеу bоth espoused whеn I lived аt hоmе – thеу bоth wеrе having affairs.

The contentiousness оf thеir divоrсе, whiсh I rеfuѕеd tо bе drаwn intо, рluѕ аn inеxрliсаblе change in thеir аttitudеѕ аbоut education (“Yоu саn gеt a jоb аt a fаѕt fооd rеѕtаurаnt and work уоur wау uр; a college еduсаtiоn iѕ over-valued,” ассоrding tо mу fаthеr), left mе withоut mеаnѕ to соntinuе the ѕесоnd ѕеmеѕtеr оf my freshman уеаr еvеn thоugh I hаd wоrkеd hаrd аnd hаd gotten gооd grаdеѕ. “Another ‘life isn’t fair’ moment,” I groaned tо mуѕеlf as I shook mу hеаd.

Mу brоthеr Rob came tо mу rеѕсuе once аgаin.

Rоb had always worked whilе going tо school аnd еvеn thоugh he hаd nоt grаduаtеd from college уеt hе had ѕаvеd еnоugh mоnеу tо соvеr mу firѕt tuition рауmеnt for mу ѕесоnd ѕеmеѕtеr, аnd books. Hе juѕt gave it to me, although I рrоmiѕеd tо rерау him. Thаt bought me enough timе tо аррlу fоr a lоаn fоr thе ѕесоnd аnd third tuition рауmеntѕ mу ѕесоnd ѕеmеѕtеr; hе еvеn со-ѕignеd thе lоаn.

“Hеу, Sis,” he counseled, “уоu саn’t go into debt tоо muсh for your еduсаtiоn. If you саn’t ѕwing a jоb to рау for nеxt уеаr’ѕ tuition, уоu need to drор оut a year; so get gооd grаdеѕ thiѕ ѕеmеѕtеr ѕо that you саn easily gеt back in once your есоnоmiс ѕituаtiоn changes. Alѕо, whilе уоu саn come livе with mе thiѕ ѕummеr – rеturning home iѕ not an орtiоn соnѕidеring whаt’ѕ gоing оn with our hуросritе mother аnd fаthеr – уоu’rе ѕtill gоing to hаvе еxреnѕеѕ this summer.”

 

“You’re right, brо. Got any idеаѕ fоr еmрlоуmеnt?” I queried.

“None off the tор of my hеаd. Juѕt соnѕidеr whаt уоur strengths аrе, tаlk tо friends аt ѕсhооl аbоut what thеу’rе doing, and lеt mе know if thеrе’ѕ anything thаt I can do to help,” he rеѕроndеd.

“Thаnkѕ, Rob, you’re thе best.”

I got thе loan in timе to рау mу ѕесоnd tuitiоn inѕtаllmеnt аnd fоr mу dorm аnd meal рlаn. I spent an inordinate аmоunt оf timе tаlking tо реорlе about раrt-timе and thеn ѕummеr еmрlоуmеnt tо pay mу way. One of my friеndѕ ѕuggеѕtеd that I tаlk to a senior named Gwen Swаnѕоn whо always ѕееmеd tо have еnоugh mоnеу withоut gеtting lоаnѕ, and whо wаѕ estranged frоm hеr parents. Thе friend pointed Gwеn оut to mе and said that ѕhе оftеn wеnt tо thе Student Uniоn bеtwееn сlаѕѕеѕ bесаuѕе ѕhе had hеr own off-campus араrtmеnt.

Gwеn was rеаllу еxоtiс lооking. Shе had lоng ѕlеndеr lеgѕ, ѕhоuldеr length ѕilkу brown hаir with auburn highlightѕ, a ѕtriking fасе, аnd a rеgаl demeanor. Unlikе mоѕt соllеgе ѕtudеntѕ ѕhе wore сlаѕѕу аnd fаѕhiоnаblе сlоthеѕ. Shе looked еminеntlу ѕuссеѕѕful.

Thе next dау I ѕhеерiѕhlу wеnt uр tо Gwen at the Studеnt Uniоn right after lunсh. Shе wаѕ sitting in a booth. I waited until a hаndѕоmе guу ѕitting with her lеft, then аррrеhеnѕivеlу аррrоасhеd her.

“Hi, you’re Gwеn, aren’t уоu?” I gulреd.

“Yes…,” ѕhе еxресtаntlу replied.

“I’m Amу Boston, a frеѕhmаn here. I bаdlу nееd a раrt-timе аnd/оr ѕummеr job аnd one of mу friеndѕ tоld mе thаt you were thе most ѕuссеѕѕful mоnеу-mаkеr оn саmрuѕ аnd thаt I ѕhоuld аѕk your аdviсе. Dо you hаvе a few minutes to tаlk?”

College Roommates Take It Further: Series One

Here’s a sample from the beginning of College Roommates Take It Further: Series One, a new lesbian story by Kathleen S. Molligger. It’s a sexy tale of lust between beautiful young college hotties!

 

Cаthу wаѕ thе ԛuintеѕѕеntiаl соuntrу girl. Shе grеw uр оn a horse fаrm in thе rural parts оf Kentucky. Cathy’s mоm раѕѕеd аwау frоm brеаѕt саnсеr whеn Cаthу wаѕ оnlу fivе. Overall Cаthу had a hарру сhildhооd. Shе couldn’t deny, though, that she rеаllу miѕѕеd having a mоm. Cаthу and her dаd wеrе close, but thеrе wеrе girly thingѕ ѕhе miѕѕеd оut оn ѕinсе hеr mоm had раѕѕеd.

Bеing a tоmbоу came nаturаllу tо Cаthу, еѕресiаllу living оn a horse fаrm with hеr single fаthеr. When ѕhе wаѕ оn thе farm, she wаѕ really vеrу соntеnt and happy. Thеrе were timеѕ, thоugh, fоr nо reason аt аll ѕhе wоuld juѕt long for hеr mom, аnd ѕhе wished ѕhе knew hоw tо dо the girlу thingѕ thаt саmе ѕо nаturаllу to оthеr girls.

Frоm the timе she wаѕ ѕmаll hеr dаd wоuld tаkе her hоrѕеbасk riding оn thе hillѕidе beside thеir fаrm. He gаvе her a filly whеn ѕhе turned thirtееn, and it was hеr responsibility tо саrе for her аnd tо trаin her. Cathy fеll in lоvе with thе littlе horse immеdiаtеlу аnd nаmеd hеr Rоѕе. Shе spent every waking moment оutѕidе оf hеr ѕсhооl rеѕроnѕibilitiеѕ саring fоr Rоѕе. Shе was rеѕроnѕiblе for muсking out the ѕtаllѕ and making ѕurе thеrе was frеѕh hау fоr hеr. Shе lоvеd brushing her mane and her tail. Shе wоuld fееd hеr оаtѕ, green apples, and саrrоtѕ. She loved thе way Rose would nuzzlе her nоѕе in hеr раlm when she fed hеr.

Cаthу wаѕ a ѕhу kid аnd a bit аwkwаrd аrоund her classmates аt ѕсhооl, ѕо Rоѕе rеаllу bесаmе her bеѕt friеnd. Anу timе Cаthу hаd a rоugh dау, ѕhе would соnfidе hеr thоughtѕ to Rose. Rоѕе wоuld just liѕtеn tо Cathy quietly while ѕhе confessed hеr thoughts, and Rоѕе never judgеd hеr. In thе afternoons Cаthу would tаkе Rose fоr wаlkѕ in the pasture. Aѕ Rоѕе grеw ѕtrоngеr, Cаthу trаinеd hеr hоw tо ассерt a ѕаddlе аnd rаinѕ. Onсе ѕhе wаѕ trаinеd, Cаthу was аblе to tаkе hеr for ridеѕ in thе аftеrnооnѕ.

Cаthу аnd Rose grеw uр tоgеthеr. So when it came time tо dесidе whаt univеrѕitу tо аttеnd, Cаthу didn’t wаnt tо mоvе tоо far frоm hоmе. Shе loved thе hоrѕе farm, and ѕhе wаntеd tо bе able tо gо hоmе оn wееkеndѕ tо see hеr dаd аnd Rose. Cаthу earned an асаdеmiс scholarship to the Univеrѕitу of Kentucky, and ѕhе wаѕ thrillеd thаt thе univеrѕitу wаѕ so сlоѕе tо the hоmе ѕhе loved ѕо muсh.

Molly wаѕ a city girl with a lаrgе fаmilу frоm Atlаntа. She loved еvеrуthing about thе city. Shе lоvеd thе lightѕ аnd the nоiѕе. She loved bеing аblе tо gо ѕее рrоfеѕѕiоnаl bаѕkеtbаll, bаѕеbаll оr football gаmеѕ with hеr family on any given wееkеnd. Shе lоvеd the vаriеtу оf people thаt ѕhе еnсоuntеrеd dаilу in this соѕmороlitаn area.

Shе аttеndеd a lаrgе high ѕсhооl with kids оf аll races, nationalities, bасkgrоundѕ, rеligiоnѕ, orientations, аnd ѕuсh. Molly dеfinеd thе wоrd еxtrоvеrt. She loved реорlе, аnd ѕhе always had a grеаt number аnd vаriеtу оf friеndѕ. Whеrеvеr ѕhе wеnt, ѕhе rоѕе to thе top and bесаmе a lеаdеr.

Molly аlwауѕ hаd a vаriеtу of intеrеѕtѕ, but hеr favorite wаѕ basketball. Hеr mоm had bееn a соllеgе bаѕkеtbаll ѕtаr аt thе Univеrѕitу оf Kеntuсkу, аnd ѕhе inѕtillеd thе lоvе of thе ѕроrt in Molly from the timе she wаѕ уоung. She hаd been the сарtаin of both hеr juniоr varsity аnd vаrѕitу girlѕ’ bаѕkеtbаll tеаmѕ.

Molly wаѕ a bright girl, and she rеаllу tried to рау аttеntiоn in ѕсhооl. However, hеr mind always ѕееmеd to find its way bасk tо ѕоmе ѕосiаl event ѕhе wаѕ attending оr basketball. She was аblе tо mаkе B’ѕ аll thе wау thrоugh high school, but ѕhе knеw ѕhе соuld hаvе gоttеn A’ѕ if ѕhе hаd аррliеd hеrѕеlf a bit mоrе. Shе wanted tо make gооd grаdеѕ, bесаuѕе ѕhе wаѕ dеtеrminеd tо еаrn an athletic scholarship tо the Univеrѕitу оf Kentucky.

Molly was есѕtаtiс whеn ѕhе fоund оut in the fаll of hеr senior year that she hаd еаrnеd hеr рrizеd athletic scholarship tо UK, аnd she wоuld bе in the starting linеuр оf the wоmеn’ѕ Wild Cats basketball tеаm. Hеr раrеntѕ соuldn’t have been more рrоud, еѕресiаllу her mоm. Shе рlаѕtеrеd photos of Molly аll over hеr ѕосiаl mеdiа раgе, аnd ѕhе brаggеd tо аll hеr friends about Molly fоllоwing in hеr footsteps.

Bоth Cathy аnd Molly grаduаtеd frоm high school in the ѕрring оf 2006, and they made their individuаl plans tо attend thе University of Kentucky in the fall. Thе girlѕ received thеir wеlсоmе lеttеrѕ аnd frеѕhmаn orientation расkеtѕ that Julу, which соntаinеd ѕсhооl policy infоrmаtiоn, information аbоut thеir dоrmѕ, аnd thе nаmе оf thеir rооmmаtе and their ѕсhооl email address.

Cаthу’ѕ firѕt thоught wаѕ what a сооl name “Molly” wаѕ. Bеing a nаturаllу ѕhу wоmаn, ѕhе wаѕ a bit nеrvоuѕ аbоut rооming with another woman whоm she hаd not уеt mеt. So the firѕt thing she did was tо mаkе sure she соuld log into the ѕсhооl’ѕ intrаnеt site and access hеr school email. Shе thоught it be mоrе соmfоrtаblе if ѕhе соntасtеd Molly ahead оf timе and gоt tо knоw hеr a bit before сlаѕѕеѕ ѕtаrtеd аt thе еnd of August. She ѕеnt Molly ѕоmе infоrmаtiоn аbоut hеrѕеlf, pictures оf her dаd аnd her horse Rоѕе, аnd ѕhе lеt her knоw ѕhе was lооking forward tо mееting her in реrѕоn. She hit ѕеnd оn her еmаil, аnd hореd she would hear bасk from Molly ѕооn.

Aѕ soon as Molly received her wеlсоmе расkеt, ѕhе riрреd intо it еxсitеdlу! She соuldn’t wаit tо bе a Wild Cаt! It was all she hаd thought аbоut in high school, аnd nоw her drеаm wаѕ bесоming a reality. Shе соuldn’t wait tо find out whiсh dоrm ѕhе was in, аnd whо hеr rооmmаtе wоuld bе. She rеаllу hореd it wоuld be someone niсе with whоm ѕhе соuld become good friеndѕ. Bеing a true еxtrоvеrt, friends wеrе vеrу imроrtаnt tо hеr. Shе thought Cаthу was ѕuсh a cool nаmе for a girl.

The Entrapment

Here’s the beginning of The Entrapment, an outrageous story in two parts on Amazon: Part One and Part Two. It’s hardcore dubcon about a woman whose controlling boss steps over the line!

 

The doorbell rang. Twice. Samantha snapped. Who could it be? It was such an odd hour. She removed her quivering fingers from her wet pussy. They were wrinkled, as if they had been left in the bathtub a little too long. Unbelievable! She had been so close to coming … a few more minutes and she would have let off in her black, silk panties, the cum standing out in contrast against the dark silk-like stars splashed in the night sky. The thought of her new co-worker, the 25-year-old irresistibly hot, dark-haired and well-fit Tom, had been too much for her to handle. The longing gaze they exchanged at the coffee machine earlier had left her with no choice. In that moment, she knew she would just have to rush home and masturbate to the thought of his fit, tanned, and (she assumed) hairless body.

 

She had fantasized about him pulling her skirt up, diving into her wet pussy like a swimmer would dive into the pool in the Olympic Games, eating her out with raw and wild abandon. Then, she had envisioned pulling his pants down, revealing the welcoming sight of his big, erect penis standing strong like the Allegheny Mountains of Pennsylvania, clearly visible inside his boxers, threatening to burst to the surface at any moment.

 

Ah! She had thought of him removing his boxers, letting his swollen manhood out for her to grab, touch … then run her tongue up and down the shaft with a beastly maneuver, finally taking the whole thing in her mouth and pumping the creamy cum out of him. Ah … his moaning as she sucked him off, the salty taste of his big penis in her mouth.

 

Samantha knew that she gave good head, and she was sure she would be able to satisfy Tom. He was ten years younger than her, and she was sure he would be virile enough to get it up more than once. Yes, she had decided two minutes earlier, as she rubbed her clit, thinking about sucking him off until he exploded in her mouth.

 

After a few minutes, she would start sucking him again, and when he was hard once more, she would lie down willingly like a new bride who was meeting her groom for the first time in bed, let him take her every way and any way he wanted. Ah! It felt so good … Oh! Tom …

 

That damn doorbell!

 

She pulled her skirt up, straightened her shirt and hair a little. She hadn’t reached climax, and felt cheated, but also strangely alive. She knew that as soon as she whisked the caller away, she could resume her little love affair with herself. After all, David was away for the entire weekend, and as always, she was alone. That was fine with her, she did enjoy some time to herself, but the unsavory part was that, what had started out as an over-the-moon exciting and joyful marriage five years ago, had quickly turned into harrowing endless hours of sitting at home alone. She felt so far from the loving arms of a man. All by herself, no attention from anybody.
She was 35 now, still in her prime, not quite a cougar or let alone MILF material. How long could she let this go on without getting a potent and lasting solution? Before opening the door, she took a final look in the mirror. Had she had more belief in herself, she would have seen an incredibly hot and foxy woman with long, blonde hair, big, enticing boobs that stood out as firm as the Himalayas, and as adorable as freshly harvested malus apples. Indeed, they could compare, at least almost, with those of a twenty years old’s. Her body was curvy, with firm, toned arms, strong and sexy legs like that of a gazelle. Her juicy ass swayed with rhythm to her stepping, thanks to endless hours at the gym, and the apple bottom jeans with the fur. In the beginning, David had seemed drawn to that, but the last couple of years, his interest had waned and while he was on endless business trips, probably banging prostitutes for all she knew, she didn’t feel wanted anymore. So the look Tom had sent her today – for it had clearly been a desire in his eyes, she could tell a man’s heart instantly – had reinvigorated her, made her yet again feel hope, feel that maybe she had some more love-making in her. If, and that was a big if, David was willing to give her attention again. Or, more and more likely she now understood, she left him and found someone that really wanted her. Someone like Tom perhaps? Sure, why not. She was certain she could have done nothing but make love to him all day, she could even have given up her beloved afternoon glass of champagne if she could have traded that with the taste of his young, inviting, adorable and hot body.

 

She turned around and walked briskly to the door, twisted the knob and opened it.

In front of her was someone she had never expected to see. She twitched, and he must have noticed because he smiled courteously, almost apologetically, and said, “I’m so sorry to interrupt you at this late hour, Samantha. I hope I’m not disturbing?”

She frowned. What was Frank, her boss, doing here at this hour?

“Well, I guess it’s okay, I…” her reply dwindled with disdain.

“Yes, I know, you are probably wondering what on earth I am doing here right now. I will, of course, explain.”

She gave him a look of bewilderment, but at the same time she took the hint. It was obvious he was waiting for an invite. Unwillingly, trying to hide her true body language, she said, “Would you care to come in? I could make some coffee?”

“Yes, please, a coffee would be great.”

She opened the door and he followed her inside.

After she put the kettle on, she poured herself another glass of champagne.

“Do you mind?” she asked.

“Of course not,” he said.

“Would you like one as well?”

She offered mostly as an excuse to empty the bottle, so that she could open a new one for herself to enjoy as soon as Frank left, after conducting whatever business he saw fit. She didn’t think he would accept, but strangely, he just looked at her and said, “Yes, you know, I would love a glass. Just one though, as I don’t want the cops to bust me later on.”

Thinking it was a funny joke, he laughed, a dry, charmless laugh that more than anything annoyed her. Yet, she didn’t want to make her boss upset, so she joined in, adding, “Well, although I wouldn’t mind being arrested by a couple of young, firm officers, I do get your point.”

Even though she meant every word of it, it was intended to be a joke also, but he didn’t reply, didn’t pay her back. Instead, he said, with a firm voice, “Well, getting arrested by the cops is probably not something you would want, now is it, Samantha?”

 

There was something about the way he conveyed the words, the hardness of his tone, that alerted her.

“Samantha, I came here to talk to you about something serious.”

“Okay?”

Again, she gave him a look of bewilderment, although the suspicion was growing inside of her. She took a big, in fact a very big sip of her champagne while she led him to the couch.

Frank stood over her for a second. She already knew what he was doing: striking a dominance pose. It was, after all, one of the oldest intimidation techniques available. Yet, he wouldn’t have had to. He always had a charisma to him, a kind of physique that automatically commanded respect. It was this aura of power that made everyone at the office feel uttermost respect when he was around, that could make anyone realize they best tiptoe around him and play to his music. Frank was not a good-looking man compared to Tom, or her own husband David. Tom was obviously a lot younger than Frank, about twenty-five years, in other words half his age, and while he looked like a model, heck, the man looked like a Greek god to her, Frank didn’t have that perfect picture look to him. His body was decent for someone of his age, and under his ever-present suit, she could see that there was some tone to his muscles, but young studs like Tom were much more to her liking than middle-aged men like Frank. Yet, Frank’s aura of power did have something to it, and although she was not attracted to him, she could understand that many women may be in some way or another.

 

Finally, Frank sat down next to her. Yet, while she had sunk herself into the couch, he remained upright, clearly portraying that he was, as always, a man in charge.

“I’m going to be blunt with you, Samantha.”

He took a sip of his champagne.

“We have been going through the records. And it seems there have been some huge purchases lately.”

Now she froze. She was the head of purchasing and as such had access to the company funds.

“Although we do need you to buy us various inventory, obviously, there are several purchases that in no way can relate to our business.”

She cursed herself. She had taken it too far. What had started out with a small purchase here and there, had turned into expensive dresses, rings, and for the company trip last year, she had even managed to bake the cost of a long weekend in London for herself and her sister into the total price. Then she had gotten braver. Like a knight of valor in the medieval ages, she started ordering stuff for friends, then receiving money from them. Had she needed the money? No, David’s company was successful and she could easily live off him. However, it had been the boredom that led her into it, the search for excitement. She now realized this was the end of it. She was going to get fired and would need to start looking around for greener pastures.

“I could name a lot of examples, and I could hand all the evidence over to the police as well.”

He looked at her, and he got that stone cold face again, that expression he only had when he was dead serious about something. And she knew that when her boss was serious about something, he always followed it through.

“Don’t forget, Samantha, stuff like this could make you do hard time.”

She wanted to look away, but it was as if his eyes were drawing her in.

“Even for a beautiful, hot lady like yourself,” he added, and at the same time she could feel his warm, moist hand on her bare leg.

A part of her felt disgusted and she wanted to cry out, wanted to tell him to get out.

However, she knew that she had been called, and she just couldn’t risk taking her chances with the authorities. He would tell on her if she didn’t comply with whatever he wanted, that much she knew.

“So what do you want?”

Alpha Cellmate: The Redneck

Here’s a sample from Alpha Cellmate: The Redneck, a new story from Brutewood Medium Security! It’s the outrageous tale of a gay man getting a bit too much of what he wanted behind bars…

Dewayne settled into his prison cell and ignored his cellmate, Piggie, who in turn ignored him. For the first three hours, neither spoke. Dewayne had been waiting in his local jail for weeks, so he was used to being incarcerated. He knew what was going to happen, and he was fine with that — he intended to initiate it — but he wanted to let it happen on his terms.

So he waited. He unpacked the few things he was allowed to bring and placed them on the empty shelf behind his bed, the bottom bunk in the tiny cell. He brushed his teeth and took a piss in the toilet, all while ignoring his cellmate, who had been introduced to him simply as Piggie.

Despite the name, Piggie was not fat — he later explained that he had been chubby as a boy, which was when he got the nickname — he was a tall, broad-shouldered redneck, covered in tattoos and a fine sheen of hair over his chest. He had a tangled mop of dirty blond hair. He watched Dewayne dourly whenever Dewayne wasn’t looking.

Finally, Dewayne sensed the time was right. It was almost time for dinner, and he wanted to have a firm place in the prison hierarchy when he got to the mess hall.

“Hey,” Dewayne said. He was gay but he was not ordinarily very flamboyant. He tried to accentuate that now, to make certain Piggie knew that Dewayne was gay. Piggie raised his eyebrows and listened to Dewayne’s words. Dewayne stammered. “I, uh… I heard you run some shit around here.”

“You heard wrong,” Piggie said.

“Oh, really? They said you were a powerful motherfucker-“

“That much is true.” Piggie chewed on his lower lip as he looked Dewayne up and down.

“Good, good,” Dewayne said. He took a deep breath. “I, uh… Did you…? Are you comfortable with fucking? I mean… with me?”

Piggie sat up. He snorted as though the answer was obvious, but it wasn’t clear if it was “obvious” because he thought Dewayne should know that Piggie was a prison top who fucked queers, or because he thought Dewayne should know that Piggie hated queers. Dewayne momentarily wondered if he should try pretending to be a straight tough guy, but he knew he couldn’t pull that off.

“I, uh… I’d like to suck you off, or whatever. If you want, and if you will protect me-“

“You wanna be my bitch?”

“Well… I think you’re hot and I’m gay and I need-“

“You wanna be my bitch?” He flared his nostrils.

“Well… yeah, kinda,” Dewayne said. He normally loved redneck alpha males like Piggie — Dewayne was more than a bit rednecky himself, so he had a natural attraction to men like Piggie. If he wasn’t in prison and could have gone home anytime, Dewayne would have jumped at the chance to be Piggie’s bitch. Ever since getting out of the Army, Dewayne had been getting into riskier and riskier sex. It was a way to feel the adrenaline rush he had gotten used to in Iraq. This was more frightening than he was accustomed to, because he wasn’t role-playing the role of prison bitch, he was living it.

“You queer?” Piggie asked. He sounded genuinely surprised.

“Yeah,” Dewayne said.

Piggie jumped down from his bunk. He patted Dewayne down, a mix between a utilitarian frisk and a sexy grope. His rough-skinned fingers roamed over every inch of Dewayne’s body. Then he separated Dewayne’s jaws and looked in his mouth as though checking how big it was. He rammed his finger in until Dewayne gagged on it.

“If you gonna be my bitch, you gotta be obedient. You gotta serve me right. You gotta suck dick. You wanna suck dick?”

“Yes!”

“You wanna take it in the ass? You want me to butt-fuck you like a bitch? I don’t fuck easy. You okay wit’ that?”

“Yes,” Dewayne said. He gulped. “I… I’ll do anything you want. Just don’t hurt me.”

Piggie smiled. He leaned in as though he was going to kiss Dewayne right on the lips, but then he turned Dewayne around and slammed him into the wall, face-first, hard enough to hurt but not break anything. Dewayne tasted the grime and dust clinging to the rock wall of their shared cell.

“I am gonna hurt you.”

Dewayne’s heart sank. He had assumed this would work. “Oh. I-“

“Shut up. You can be my bitch. I just wanna prepare you. I am gonna hurt you at some point. I’m gonna fuck you hard and I’m gonna smack you when I’m in a bad mood, when it ain’t even yer fault. I’m gonna treat you bad. That’s cuz I’m a bad man. You feel me?”

“Uh, yeah-“

“The promise I’m gonna make to you right now is not that I ain’t gonna hurt you. I’m gonna promise to make it up to you later. I ain’t gonna let no one else hurt you, not without my permission, but I am gonna hurt you myself.”

“Oh… Okay,” Dewayne said. His mouth was pressed against the rock wall, so all he could do was mumble. Piggie’s breath condensed on his cheeks. Again, he thought if this had happened in a biker bar instead of a prison cell, he’d be salivating at the chance to service Piggie. It was just disturbing to know he had no choice to go home later. It was either service Piggie, find a different man or take a chance on taking care of himself. Servicing Piggie was both the sexiest and most dangerous route.

“You queer, huh?” Piggie asked. He rammed his hand into Dewayne’s pants and caressed both cheeks. He gave them a pinch, hard, which made Dewayne yelp and squirm against the wall.

“Yeah.”

“So you ain’t a virgin?”

“No, I’m not.”

“That’s too bad. I love making straight boys cry when I fuck ‘em,” he said. He sniffed Dewayne’s head and snorted. It sounded like he swallowed a mouthful of phlegm. He fingered the rim of Dewayne’s asshole but didn’t stick his finger in. “I love breakin’ ‘em down.”

“Oh, well, sorry, I ain’t-“

“I can handle queers too. I ain’t gonna mind that one bit,” he said. “Long as you’s okay wit’ me treating you poorly.”

“I guess so, I just hope-“

“Get on yer knees, queerboy,” he said. “If you can suck me good enough, I’ll take you in as my bitch. If not… then you’s on yer own.”

Dewayne did drop to his knees. He sighed and opened his mouth, drooling at the sight of Piggie’s fat cock dangling between his legs. Piggie didn’t take his orange prison pants off, he just pulled them down.

Dewayne kissed the tip, then licked the shaft. The taste of unwashed masculine musk flooded Dewayne’s senses. The flavor reminded Dewayne of a horse-barn; it was both unpleasant and arousing, and it made Dewayne hungry to taste Piggie’s load. He moaned and blushed because Piggie laughed at how enthusiastic he was.

“Is that fun, little bitch? You really wanna be my bitch? You that kinda queerboy?”

“Yes, I am,” Dewayne said. He wrapped his lips around Piggie’s shaft and moved his mouth up and down it. He knew straight men loved that technique, and he smiled as it made Piggie shudder. His dick straightened and stiffened.

Then Piggie grabbed Dewayne by the head and forced him to remain in place. Dewayne opened his mouth wide, sighing as Piggie’s cock pushed down his throat. Piggie drilled it in slowly and laughed as Dewayne struggled to swallow it.

Dewayne gagged, but only because he knew Piggie would want him to. Dewayne could deep-throat nearly anything without gagging if he wanted to. But he wanted to puff up Piggie’s ego by pretending it was difficult to suck his dick.

He let Piggie facefuck him, Dewayne focusing on little more than keeping his throat wide open. He loved the flavor of Piggie’s redneck dick; his precum tasted like fertile soil, a forest thunderstorm, engine oil and stainless steel, and its savory flavor made Dewayne wish he could suck it forever.

Piggie’s balls slapped against Dewayne’s chin as he fucked Dewayne’s face. He made loud rutting sounds, like the piggie he was named after. Every time Dewayne choked and sputtered, men in the other cells all laughed and jeered.

Damn, Piggie got a new bitch!

Piggie’s gonna make him squeal!

New guy’s a bitch already!

Dewayne gurgled happily, though he hid it out of fear that Piggie would interpret his enjoyment as license to facefuck him harder and harder until he no longer enjoyed. Instead Dewayne just sat there, allowing Piggie to drill his shift in and out of Dewayne’s throat.

Precum slid down his gullet, the sour-salty flavor overwhelming Dewayne’s palate. Piggie moaned and for a moment, his alpha machismo dwindled — he hadn’t expected it to feel this good.

Dewayne was proud of himself. He liked servicing big thugs and rednecks like Piggie, and he knew making his blowjobs indispensable was the best way to ensure Piggie kept him safe. He choked up a mountain of spit and let it drip down into Piggie’s hairy crotch.

Soon Dewayne could tell that Piggie was almost ready to cum. Dewayne slowed his rhythm down, which sent such powerful spasms of pleasure up Piggie’s thick body that Piggie’s knees buckled. He almost fell on top of Dewayne, but he used him for support.

Dewayne deep-throated all the way, ignoring his body’s cry for oxygen. His nose nestled in the wiry pubic hair of Piggie’s crotch as he felt veins throb inside his mouth. The cum flowed up Piggie’s massive shaft.

Finally Piggie reached orgasm. Dewayne could feel it in the pulsating of his balls and the throbbing of his cockshaft in Dewayne’s mouth. Piggie closed his eyes and groaned.

“Here I come bitch, get ready to taste it.”

Salty cum flew into Dewayne’s mouth, coating his tongue. Dewayne sighed and squirmed as he tasted a massive load of creamy juice. It sprayed right down his gullet and collected in a warm puddle deep in his belly.

Piggie stood there with his arms across his chest. He closed his eyes as his cum flowed, a huge load that just kept collecting. Its thick texture coated Dewayne’s tongue with the salty flavor.

“I’m gonna take my dick out now,” Piggie said softly. He shuddered as aftershocks of his orgasm roiled his hairy chest muscles. He peered directly into Dewayne’s eyes. “You keep your mouth open. I like watchin’ my cum dry on yer tongue, boy.” Then he pulled his dick out without moving his eyes.

The entire cell fell silent. Every fiber of Dewayne’s being told him to clean his face off, close his mouth, attack Piggie or run away, but he didn’t do any of those things.

Piggie closely inspected his tongue. He even stuck a finger in Dewayne’s mouth, all the way back until Dewayne gagged again, and Piggie pulled his finger out dripping with cum. He wiped it off on Dewayne’s nose, sending the acrid bite of sour semen smell assaulting Dewayne’s senses.

Finally Piggie nodded. “Go clean yerself off, bitch. We’re done now.”

Twink on Top: Penal Party

Here’s the entirety of Twink on Top: Penal Party, the hottest story yet in the Twink on Top series! It’s a Brutewood Medium Security Penitentiary story, and it’s in the 50 Twinks Top 50 Tops megabundle for a great value.

It was the most enjoyable party Ted Halloway had ever been to. He knew perfectly well that it was only this fun because he had been in prison for a year and a half before it happened. It was the first enjoyable event in his entire time behind bars. So it felt like an evening in heaven.

It helped that there were no women. That meant the biggest alphas and thugs danced with gay girlish twinks like Ted as though he was a girl — Ted didn’t like cross-dressing, so he wasn’t as popular as certain other inmates, but still, he got closer to some sexy men than he had in quite awhile. He even got to kiss an incredibly hot redneck named Bubba, whom Ted had been drooling over for months.

The guards watched like it pained them to see inmates having a good time. Supposedly — Ted wasn’t privy to this because he was a pitiful twinky queer — all of the gangs were told that they’d be punished if anyone got in a fight during the party. That was why it went off without a hitch.

There was no alcohol, but the guards did allow a little weed in for the night. That was probably a wise decision, Ted thought; alcohol would make men fight, but the weed just made them giggle. Without any women among the inmate population, the feminine gays like Ted were treated much like women. He was feted as a queen by the entire prison.

But all good things come to an end, and this penal party was no exception. Ted was disappointed to hear the music come to stop. The guards bellowed at the inmates to head back to their cells Everyone slowly lined up, dragging their feet, grumbling and claiming they weren’t going to stop partying even as they did stop. But a part of Ted was at least happy that the party had gone off without a hitch — there was no fight, no smuggled-in booze, no one got hurt. That meant there was a chance the guards would allow another party in the near-future.

“Halloway, hey, Halloway… Ted!” boomed a male voice. It was one of the guards, Officer Armstrong, who grinned and grabbed Ted off the line. “Come on,” he said.

“What? What’s wrong? What happened?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Armstrong said. “You’re gonna have a second little party.”

“Do I have a choice?” Ted wasn’t sure what this was and he was nervous. He didn’t trust Officer Armstrong, whose voice was always menacing. It sounded like a threat even when all he said was it’s going to rain today.

“Well… yeah, I guess,” Armstrong said. “But come see what it is first. You won’t say no. If you refused this, I would be… more shocked than I have ever been in my life.”

It was hard to argue with that, and Ted was intrigued, so he followed Armstrong into an old disused showering area — he didn’t trust Armstrong in general, but he did trust him not to be a murderous psychopath or anything like that; he might strike back extra-judicially against an inmate who had wronged him, not someone easygoing and rule-abiding like Ted. Inside the dingy old shower were a handful more guards, all brimming with nervous smiles, and seated on the ground in the center of the shower, was Chowder.

Chowder was the leader of a gang called the Nineliner Mob. He was white, heavily tattooed, nearly inch of his body covered in Gothic letter, naked ladies, wild animals and an outline of Massachusetts over his left pec. He had a handsome jawline with deep dimples. His broad chest was hairy, and he had developed a six-pack since coming to Brutewood. He was also the tallest inmate in the facility; at nearly seven feet tall, he struggled to fit through doorways and down corridors.

He winced but smiled at Ted. His friendly grin wasn’t unusual — he was outgoing and charming, but he didn’t let that get in the way of business. He was one of the few big alpha males in Brutewood whom Ted had never sucked off. That was because he had a bitch named Sammi, whom Ted hated. Chowder fucked Sammi publicly, hard and often; Ted was jealous because he loved to get fucked hard by alpha thugs like Chowder. Ted normally preferred black thugs, but Chowder was insanely hot and his Boston accent aroused Ted every time he spoke.

“So, uh… Ted,” Chowder said. “I was, uh… I put togethah that pahty. I was… y’know… Uh, I had to arrange it all.” He laughed nervously into his hand.

“Chowder… come on, we ain’t got all day,” Officer Armstrong said. “Don’t drag this out.”

“They said we could have the pahty if I did somethin’ aftah it, to prove I’s really serious about makin’ sure the party was good. I had to show I was gonna make sure it went off without no fightin’ or nothin’,” Chowder said, sucking his teeth every other word. His thick Boston accent made it sound like his mouth was full of cotton balls. He rolled his eyes and sighed. “Ted… will you… please fuck me.” The guards all whooped and hollered. Ted blushed even harder than Chowder, who bit his lip. He took Ted’s hand in his like he was gonna propose. “Will you let me suck yo’ dick and take it in the ass and lick yo’ ass but only fo’ five seconds? And no kissing, and no tellin’ nobody aftahwahds.” That sounded like something that had been carefully negotiated with Armstrong.

“Oh wow,” Ted was so excited his knees were weak. He looked to Officer Armstrong, who had a gleeful smile on his face — Chowder was often in trouble for fighting with the guards, so they were understandably glad to watch him get fucked.

Everyone looked at Ted, who didn’t know what he was expected to do. He looked down at his feet, too scared to say anything.

“You gotta say yes,” Armstrong said with a chuckle. “If you wanna do it.”

“Yes!”

They all laughed at Ted’s excitement and Chowder sighed again, like he had hoped Ted might say no. He took off the plain blue baseball cap he wore — the only non-religious hat anyone at Brutewood Prison was allowed to wear — and ran his fingers through his clipper-short hair. He sucked his teeth and spat on the ground. He looked at Ted sternly. “No tellin’ nobody. ‘Specially not Sammi. I can’t let her find out I cheated on her.”

“Sure! Okay. I promise, nobody will find out,” Ted said. “I hate Sammi. I never talk to him. I-“

“Call Sammi a her.” Chowder said. He narrowed his eyes to slits, making it clear that was a threat.

Ted gulped. He knew Chowder, like most Brutewood alphas, referred to their bitches as a woman; Ted had simply forgotten because he was so excited. “Okay. Yeah, I won’t tell her. Or anyone else. I swear.”

Chowder stood there, his confidence gone as he very slowly dropped his orange prison jumpsuit. The guards laughed and clapped, hooting like he was a stripper. They demanded he dance as he undressed. “That weren’t paht of the deal,” Chowder said grimly. The guards seemed to accept that, but they had fun cheering him on, pretending he was stripping like a dancer even if he wasn’t.

The sight of his bare chest made Ted’s heart skip a beat. Chowder had been a violent thug, but one of those rather fat swaggalicious men whom Ted thought were hot even if they had a belly. In his time in prison, however, all of that fat had melted away, leaving behind a mass of muscle that bulged from his skin as though begging him to get fat again. Ted had seen him naked in the shower, of course, so this was hardly the first time, but this was closer and more exciting. Ted literally felt drool escaping from his lips as he caught whiff of Chowder’s post-party musk.

“If I evah catch you lookin’ at me in the showah like you lookin’ at me now, I will rip yo’ goddamn ahm off and smack yo’ face off with it,” Chowder said.

“Uh, Chowder-“ Officer Armstrong cleared his throat. “That’s not okay. You can’t control how people look at you.”

“What I can’t control is my reaction when some queehboy look at me like he wanna eat me up,” Chowder said through gritted teeth. “You may not fuck me in yo’ imagination, okay, not aftah today.”

“Chowder!”

“Fine. I’m sorry, queehboy. Or Ted or whatevah. I ain’t tryin’-a police yo’ mind.” He rolled his eyes at Armstrong’s stern face.

Ted still didn’t quite trust him, but he had already discovered that making it obvious whom he thought was hot was a bad way to stay safe in here. Chowder wasn’t the first prison alpha to forbid anyone from having gay fantasies about him.

“It’s okay. I won’t, Chowder, I promise. My dream man is Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson, and I’m sorry, you’re not hotter than him,” Ted said. That was accurate, at least. Ted blushed as the guards and Chowder all laughed together.

Chowder dropped his dingy prison-issued boxer, which had faded bloodstains ominously covering the crotch area. Ted wondered where that blood had come from. Was it Chowder’s? Probably not, he thought.

“Well, you the queeh, right? How do we proceed?” Chowder scowled.

“Uh… I guess… You should suck my dick,” Ted said. His voice had never sounded so weak and so flamboyantly gay, at least in his mind.

“Hope this party was worth it,” Officer Armstrong said. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Get on your knees, Chowder. I mean… Chowdah.”

Chowder glared at him but sunk to his knees. He was nearly seven feet tall, so even on his knees, his face was even with Ted’s shoulders and neck. He was nowhere’s near close enough to suck Ted’s cock.

As Ted dropped his own pants, Chowder slunk lower and lower. In the end he laid on his back, propping himself up with his arms. Ted felt weak and cold, but he was glad no one was looking at his own body, which was skinny, pale and trembling with anxiety. He strained to spread his legs wide enough to straddle Chowder’s chest. He wanted to touch him, but Ted was still nervous about this — if there was one ironclad rule of prison life that nobody ever broke, it was that slim gay weaklings like Ted did not top massive alpha thugs like Chowder.

Yeah, suck it, Chowdah!

Fuck his face, Ted!

“Just foh’ the recahd, I’m doin’ this cuz I want to,” Chowder said. He spat on Ted’s dick. “I could say no. These mothahfuckahs ain’t got proof I agreed to nothin’. And I done it before. Not in prison of couhse, but back in the day, me and my boys shared some blowies on the downlow. Ain’t no shame in that-“

Less gabbin’, more suckin’!

Chowder glared at the guards, but he sighed, and seemed to decide that just going for it was the best way to get started. The longer he drew it out, the more they were going to tease him. He opened his mouth, took a deep breath and closed his lips around the tip of Ted’s dick.

He gagged even before his tongue touched it. He closed his eyes and his entire muscular chest roiled with disgust, but he didn’t slow down even a bit. He let the rest of Ted’s dick slide deeper even as his eyes frantically darted around as though looking for a way to escape.

Almost immediately Ted felt a surge of pride and confidence; he felt better than he ever had since coming to Brutewood, and even before that. He pushed his dick in even deeper, ignoring the angry look in Chowder’s eyes.

“Come on, make more spit,” Ted said, making the guards laugh. “You’ve gotten blowjobs before. You know how to do it.”

Chowder did as he was told, even as his nostrils flared and his eyes filled with hostility. He choked up a mountain of saliva — since he was such a huge man, he produced a truly copious torrent of spit — that dripped down his chin and into his bare crotch.

A shudder of desire ran through Ted’s body as he gripped Chowder’s broad shoulders. His inhibitions melted away. Chowder was crisscrossed with scars and tattoos, including a handful of bullet wounds on his back. Ted reached down to caress his body, savoring the feel of his rippling muscles.

That made precum leak from the tip of his dick, which reawakened a torrent of sputtered gagging from Chowder. The guards laughed and clapped, again hooting and hollering like they were watching a strip show.

Suck that dick/Suck it like I ain’t rich/Suck it like a bitch/Suck it till you sick/Like you ain’t nevuh turn a trick/Yeah, suck that dick

One of the guards was rapping; Ted wasn’t hip enough to know for sure whether he was freestyling or repeating a popular song. It sounded rehearsed though.

Chowder pretended it didn’t bother him, but Ted could feel him bristling at the teasing. It was funny how Ted could sense Chowder’s reactions through his muscles’ twitching and the way his throat clenched around Ted’s spasming cock, like Ted could read Chowder’s mind through his body. Chowder arched his back as he nestled his nose deep in Ted’s crotch, easily deep-throating every inch of Ted’s cock. His new position meant his ass rose in the air.

Ted lusted after it. He couldn’t believe he was going to get to fuck Chowder in that ass, and he wondered if Chowder had ever done it before. He tried to reach but Chowder was too tall for Ted to reach his ass with his dick in Chowder’s mouth.

“Okay, you said you will lick my ass, right?” Ted asked, remembering that suddenly.

Chowder pulled off his dick. Thin tendrils of spit connected his greenish face to Ted’s cockshaft. Chowder grumbled. “Fo’ five seconds, that’s all I agreed to.”

Officer Armstrong laughed. “That’s just a minimum, Chowder. You can lick his ass as long as you want. We got all night.”

“No!” Chowder said.

Ted turned around and bent over as though he was going to get fucked, as that was the only position that raised his ass high enough for Chowder to lick it. Chowder looked away, breathed deeply through his mouth and closed his eyes.

He dove between those cheeks and slammed his tongue in. He was so forceful — and his tongue was so big — that it almost hurt. Chowder rimmed him more aggressively than anyone had ever rimmed him before, and Ted got the impression that Chowder had never done it before, not even on a girl. Chowder definitely enjoyed receiving rimjobs from his bitch and he always demanded more tongue-in-ass action, but since Chowder was so much bigger than Sammi, he needed as much tongue-penetration as possible, as deep and as hard as possible. Now Chowder’s cock-sized tongue shoved into Ted’s ass and explored there, hesitatingly as Ted’s ass-juices smeared over Chowder’s square-jawed face.

Five! Four!

But Ted then felt a ripple of pleasure emanating up his back as Chowder’s tongue explored his prostate. Chowder moaned into his ass and gagged without slowing down. Ted’s eyes rolled back in his head as pleasure walloped his petite frame. Chowder’s tongue suckled every drop of grime out of his ass, even as Chowder himself sputtered and choked on it.

Three! Two! …

The guards conspicuously stopped counting, but Chowder pulled away from Ted’s ass anyway. He spat on the linoleum shower floor. He wiped his face off with one hand, and his chin waggled but he kept it together. He sniffed, pointedly ignoring the guards as they cheered. He glanced over and saw one of the guards had bared his hairy ass — extremely hairy, nearly gorilla-like — and winked his asshole in Chowder’s direction.

If you enjoyed that, give Officer Torelli a try! He got all the ass-hair you could eat, boi! He be a ass-buffet for ya!

Chowder grimaced and looked away. He sighed as he stroked Ted’s dick with one meaty callused hand. It was the worst handjob of Ted’s life, but it was also somehow the greatest, its lack of rhythm and rough texture sending shockwaves of bliss through Ted’s body while slowing down his arousal enough that he was no longer nearly ready to blow his load.

Time for the ass, Chowder!

Give up the booty!

Chowder snarled at the guards. He turned around and bent over. His initial position was laughably impossible — he simply put his hands on the floor, sticking his ass in the air so high Ted’s short little body couldn’t even reach it. Ted had to stand on his toes to touch Chowder’s asscheeks and tap them, signaling him to lower himself.

Best get down lower, or we gonna need a winch and a pulley to do this right.

Chowder dropped to all fours. He had a nice plump ass, just enough padding for Ted’s taste — a remnant of when Chowder was fat-bodied in his pre-prison life. There was a tattoo on his left asscheek, an arrow pointing to his asshole and the words Cop Kissing Zone.

Ted separated those thick blubbering cheeks; at first it was difficult because Chowder instinctively flexed his cheeks, keeping them tight, but he forced himself to relax. His crack was lined with sweat-matted hair. Each of Chowder’s asscheeks was bigger than Ted’s head, making Ted feel truly tiny by comparison. He took a deep breath and pushed his dick in.

Chowder bit his lip so hard it drew blood. He breathed through his nose and snorted like a rampaging bull. His face turned bright red from both pain and humiliation. The muscles of his back tensed, lines flexing and curving, distorting the tattoos as he stretched.

Lookit him take it! Like a bitch!

Damn I wish we could fuckin’ tape this. Put it on the Internet, make a goddamn fortune.

“You bettah not!” Chowder said, but for once his voice was not bristling with confidence and machismo. It sounded like a whine, not a threat. He hung his head.

Ted hadn’t topped anyone since before he came to prison, so this was a refreshing experience for him. He pushed his dick in deeper and deeper, using copious lube (which was provided by Officer Armstrong — that seemed sweet, Ted thought, he didn’t need to do that; prisoners usually used hog fat from the prison kitchen, so Armstrong was being nice by providing actual lube). Chowder’s ass was clearly virgin, so tight that Ted struggled to shove every inch in his hole.

Chowder was on all fours, so the more powerfully Ted slammed into his ass, the more Chowder was forced to lower himself. He winced and dropped his hips, making it easier for Ted to fuck him harder. To his credit, Chowder managed to take every inch even though it was obviously difficult for him.

That hairy Italian guard had his dick out now, wagging it in front of Chowder’s face. Ted couldn’t hear his words because he was overwhelmed by pleasure and the boisterous laughter of the other guards drowned out the hairy guard, but it was clear he politely offered Chowder to suck his dick. Chowder just blushed and kept his eyes pointed away, even as the guard followed his face with his massive, uncut Italian cock.

Eventually Ted was just on top of Chowder, his feet no longer on the floor at all. Chowder’s broad muscles rippled beneath Ted’s face, and he licked the salty sweat that beaded on his skin. Chowder writhed beneath him.

Ted didn’t know how normal this was — he had only ever topped with thin gay twinks like him. He felt like a weird circus novelty, like a midget fucking a strongman to a shocked crowd. Chowder panted like a dog beneath him.

“God-damn, man,” Chowder said, his fingers and toes curling as though trying to dig into the linoleum floor of the prison shower.

Yeah! Get ‘im good, Teddy!

Lookit his little body on top of Chowder. Looks like a kid whose big bro is lettin’ him beat him up.

Ted blushed at the guards’ closeness. They were peering into Chowder’s ass as though they had never seen anal sex before and weren’t sure what was actually happening. Ted was a private person by nature — the public nudity, showering and toilet use of prison life had been difficult for him to adjust to — so having an audience like this was nerve-wracking for him.

His orgasm came on too soon. Ted was disappointed, but not surprised. As he felt it arising deep within him, Ted wasn’t even sure how long it had been — it felt like just a few minutes, but at the same time, it felt like hours. Surely Chowder would have complained if it had taken that long though, he thought.

The most powerful orgasm of his life ran through him. Ted’s entire body shook and trembled, and he moaned so loud he blushed as the guards erupted in a mixture of embarrassed grunts and excited shouts.

Cum sprayed within Chowder’ ass, a thick and copious loud that filled up every inch of his insides. Chowder moaned too, matching Ted’s voice, and he buried his face in his forearm. Then he grabbed the blue baseball cap he had thrown on the ground, and he buried his face in that instead.

One of the guards pulled the cap away and looked Chowder in the eye. Chowder’s red face was tense and a few tears of pain and embarrassment drifted down his cheek.

“Who’s the pussy-faced bitch now?” the guard asked. “Hope the party was worth it.” Chowder snarled and grabbed his hat back as his ass clenched again around Ted’s dick.

Exhausted, Ted fell back. His ass plopped out of Chowder’s ass, and Chowder breathed a sigh of relief. He stood and blushed as the guards laughed at the river of cum dripping down his trunk-like, tattooed thighs.

“Hey!” Chowder barked. “We said no bringin’ it up again after it’s done.”

“Ain’t done yet,” Officer Armstrong said. “It ain’t done until you both get your clothes on. Whatchoo think, Chowder? Was the party worth it?”

Chowder hurriedly threw his underwear on, wincing when he accidentally touched his ass and reawakened a torrent of sensitive pain. He put his jumpsuit on and then hurriedly slipped into his shoes when the guards made it clear they counted that as well. “Yeah,” Chowder said. “The party was totally worth it.”

Ted slow-walked it, both because he didn’t mind the guards teasing Chowder and because he was too overwhelmed to really focus on anything but the aftershocks of orgasmic pleasure wracking his body. But when Chowder was done and he saw Ted wasn’t, he shot him a few dirty looks until Ted jumped in action.

Soon they were both dressed. Ted still felt weak-limbed from the power of his climax, and he could still taste Chowder’s back-sweat in his mouth.

True to their word, the guards stopped teasing as soon as both inmates were dressed again. There was still some scattered laughter, especially when Chowder winced and skipped a step while he walked towards the door behind Officer Armstrong.

“Hey, if you want — and you don’t think Sammi will mind — you can fuck me later. As hard as you want,” Ted said. “If that, y’know, makes you feel better.”

“I know I can.” Chowder’s voice dripped with menace. “I will.”

Ted smiled. That promised to be almost as good as what had just happened. He couldn’t wait. The next couple days promised to be exciting.