Tag Archives: alpha male erotica

Masseurs Most Macho: The Handsy Coach

Here’s the beginning of Masseurs Most Macho: The Handsy Coach, a new story by Happiest Ending!

“Oh shit, lemme tell Jeremy my dick got hard- Hang on.” Donald got up and poked his head out the door. He yelled, “Hey, Jeremy, you were wrong! Hey! You are a fucking idiot, man, I told you I can get hard for anything.”

Jeremy shouted something back. Ethan couldn’t hear what it was, but it made Donald guffaw, his thick body shaking as he did. Donald was a little ruddy right now, his rock-hard dick jutting out between his legs. He smiled at Ethan.

“Sorry, sorry, that’s my friend Jeremy. He’s a prickhole.” Donald knew that Ethan already knew Jeremy, he was just explaining because he forgot that fact. It was Jeremy who had urged Donald to come get a massage because Jeremy frequently did so.

“Sure, that’s fine. Just lay down, Donald. You have to stay still,” Ethan said.

Donald sheepishly laid back down on his belly on the table. He had such a perfectly thick ass that Ethan had to resist the urge to suck all the sweat off him. Donald was a rugby player for GHU, and Ethan was a masseur for the athletic department. He kneaded the flesh of Donald’s muscles. Donald closed his eyes, but he didn’t look particularly relaxed — he looked bored, like he was only doing this because someone had told him he should.

“Hey, do you massage girls too?”

“Yes,” Ethan said.

“Do you ever massage Katie Marleywine?”

“I’m not allowed to talk about other clients. What team is she on?”

“Oh, she doesn’t play any sports.”

Ethan sighed. “I work for the athletic department, Donald. If she’s not on a team, I can’t massage her.”

“But she’s like, superhot. If you were at a party, you’d offer to massage her. She’s so hot. She’s got tits that are like… amazing.” He thought for a long time but struggled to come up with any words to describe how awesome her tits were.

Ethan was shocked that Donald didn’t know he was gay. Ethan was slim, flamboyant, feminine. He normally never bothered to come out of the closet because it was obvious to everyone that he was gay.

In actuality, Ethan should have been even more shocked — Donald knew very well that Ethan was gay, he had simply forgotten. Donald’s friend Jeremy had urged him to come get a massage because it would lead to a happy ending, and Jeremy thought it would be hilarious if Donald got a handjob from a man. His teammates frequently dared each other to come let Ethan give them rimjobs (they had no reason to think Ethan would do so, they just thought the idea was funny). Donald had discussed Ethan being gay on several occasions, so there was no way he didn’t know.

But at the moment, Donald was thinking about girls. He had Katie Marleywine on the mind, and so it didn’t occur to him that Ethan was gay. How could anyone, he thought, not think Katie Marleywine was the most beautiful girl ever?

That was why his cock get hard. The more he thought about her, the harder his dick got, until it was sticking straight up and throbbing. Donald blushed.

“Donald, it’s okay-“

Donald sat up and looked at his dick. He smiled — he had no embarrassment. “Sorry, I get hard sometimes.” He got up again. “I’m-a go slap Jeremy in the face with it. I’ll be right back.”

“Wait-“

He went out into the locker room, cock jutting right out from his crotch. A torrent of shouts and baritone laughter filled the air. Someone screamed, and there was a loud bang like something heavy had fallen to the ground.

“Shit, get your dick off me, Donald!” Whoever it was, it wasn’t Jeremy. Ethan got the impression Donald had fallen on top of someone. He hadn’t slapped anyone in the face with his dick.

Donald came back, grinning. “He got away from me.”

“Donald, I don’t have time for you to put the massage on hold,” Ethan said. “Lay down-“

“Are you gonna jack me off?” Donald asked. He sat on the table and looked at his dick. He gave it one stroke and smiled at Ethan. “You can. Jeremy said it isn’t gay. He said it doesn’t count during a massage.”

“Oh. Is Jeremy in charge of that?”

“Yeah,” Donald said. He sounded totally serious, like Ethan should have known that already.

“Well… Yeah, okay,” Ethan said. Normally he said no to any athlete that asked for a handjob — Ethan did it if he thought they deserved it, but he said no when asked.

Until now. He sighed and grabbed Donald’s dick, which was thick and veiny. Donald closed his eyes and sighed as soon as he did, and his cock throbbed in Ethan’s grip.

“Hey do gay guys jack off?” Donald asked.

Ethan was focused on stroking Donald’s dick, so his question didn’t quite sink in at first. Then he assumed he misunderstood. He kept stroking, and Donald’s dick throbbed as though he enjoyed it, though Donald kept talking as though he didn’t notice.

“I mean do they jack themselves off? You? Do you jack yourself off?”

“What? Donald… I’m not-…” Ethan sighed. “Yeah. I’ve been known to masturbate from time to time.”

Donald blushed. “Really? It seems like, you could just jack each other off. Like other gay guys.”

“Who?”

“Whoever, I mean-“

“So just go out and meet some gay guys so we can jack each other off?”

“Yeah.”

“That just sounds like dating, but with more jacking off.”

Donald thought for a long time, then he nodded. “Yeah. I guess so. I just think, y’know, if you like dick, why touch your own?”

“Yeah… That’s… Sure, okay, Donald.”

“Or maybe it would make more sense to never touch anyone else’s dick. After all, if you can fuck yourself, you’d never need to go out. If girls could fuck themselves, they’d never go out on dates.”

“Dildos.”

“What?”

“Girls have dildos,” Ethan said. He sighed because Donald looked like he didn’t understand. Ethan rolled his eyes. “Girls use dildos, Donald. They can fuck themselves with dildos. How am I the one educating you about vaginas?”

“Yeah, but dildos are cold.”

“What?”

“If I were a girl, I wouldn’t use dildos because they’re cold. That must feel bad, I wouldn’t want to put something cold in my pussy,” he said, giggling and blushing. He stretched his muscles like he was on the verge of falling asleep.

“I don’t think… They’re not…” Ethan had to admit that sounded reasonable. Women didn’t warm dildos up, did they? They’re usually stored under the bed, Ethan thought, that’s not cold. It sounded ridiculous but Ethan couldn’t think of a reason why. “Look, Donald, if you want me to jack you off, you have to stop talking about vaginas.”

“Oh. Sorry. What am I supposed to talk about?”

Ethan had to laugh. “Donald, I’m jacking you off — stop talking. You’re not supposed to talk.” He stopped masturbating Donald’s dick, thinking Donald wouldn’t even notice because he wasn’t paying attention. But then Donald did notice, and he frowned. Ethan said, “Do you really wanna make small-talk while I jack you off?”

Donald shrugged sheepishly. “Sorry.”

Ethan felt a little bad. Donald had such an expressive face that, when he looked wounded, Ethan felt like he had kicked a puppy.

Fireman Fantasy

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

 

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

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

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

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

“Hello there Miss” he said, smiling at me

“Hi there” I said weakly.

“I see you like the veggie delight.”

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

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

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

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

“Oh, you know, the usual… Nothing…”

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

“The fire station?”

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

Servicing a Reggae Band

Here’s a sample from the beginning of Servicing a Reggae Band, a new story in the Servicing Black Groups series of extreme str8core-worshiping gay erotica! It’s also available for less than a dollar a story in the Complete Servicing Black Groups Series bundle!

 

It was going to be an interesting couple months, Mark thought as the tour bus pulled away. When he had been offered the job, Mark dismissed the obvious potential for conflict, but now he was getting nervous.

He had been hired as a keyboardist for a major, well-known reggae band called Jam Over. He loved playing music, especially reggae, and it had always been his dream to be a working musician. So that was why he had been elated to get the position. On the other hand, he was an openly gay white man who had joined an all-black, all-hetero and all-homophobic reggae band.

So far though, things had gone well. He was friendly with the band, and the first performance, in Chelsea, was a smashing success. Now it was time to begin the actual on-the-road part of the trip, which Mark was not looking forward to. That was the time when his gayness could become an issue.

Indeed, it was only his second day on the tour bus when it happened. They had been late to get out of the hotel today, and The Jam Over guys brought a whore with them on the bus. Mark might have objected if he’d realized before the bus started moving, but he just assumed she was a roadie or someone’s girlfriend or something like that.

When they started talking about fucking her, he assumed it was a joke, that they wouldn’t really screw so publicly. He had a sinking feeling he was wrong about that, but he held out hope that the bus driver would make them stop. And then he heard the squishy sound of a finger entering an orifice, and Mark knew he had misjudged.

“Yuh, this f’male loose as hell, innit,” said Rupert with a laugh, the lead singer of the band. It wasn’t surprising that he had gone first with the whore, because he was the biggest, most confident and handsomest by far. He had high cheekbones and long, graceful dreadlocks. Mark kept his head down, aimed at his smartphone, but he could see what was happening out of the corner of his eyes.

It was a gangbang. They were all taking off their clothes, and they had shut the blinds so no one outside could see. One man with a glistening plump ass was right next to Mark, so close he could smell the man’s island funk. His kinky black thigh hairs brushed up against Mark’s shoulder.

“Hey, get newmon, hey! Where that whiteman at? Need sum keyboard, innit?” asked Rupert.

Mark blushed as they all looked to him. He turned around, blushing a little at the sight of twelve huge black cocks right in front of him. Rupert grinned back. Don’t be too obviously gay, Mark. Don’t be too obviously gay.

“You wanna fuck this slut, mon? Poonanny innit?”

Mark again blushed. He didn’t say that he was gay, he just shook his head and muttered, “No, thanks.” But there must have been something in the way he said it that implied the reason he was declining. If there was any doubt in the men’s minds, it vanished moments later when the whore giggled.

“I knew ‘e was gay the moment I sees him,” she said.

They all looked at Mark, then at Rupert as though they wanted permission to kick Mark’s ass. Mark bristled and trembled. He heard some dimly muttered patois threats. Someone said, bumbaclot quite clearly aimed at him, and Mark blushed. His heart raced.

At last Rupert smoke. “Nah. We nah kill, nigguz,” he said. Then he smiled. “Jermaine! You go’n git sum hand!”

Rupert went on to say something else, but whatever he was saying made the others so excited that Mark couldn’t catch it. They kept saying git sum hand, and the youngest one there — Jermaine, an eighteen year-old bass prodigy — winced.

“Nah,” Jermaine said, increasingly petulant.

But Rupert stared him down with a smile like this was all a big prank. “You too young, mon, you dun’t deserve a fine f’male like her. Get sum hand from batty-boy-“ he pointed to Mark. “Know-wha’-I-sayuh? Whin you iz ready a-cum, she g’in swallo’.”

Now Mark realized what was happening — Rupert wanted Jermaine, the youngest and newest member of Jam Over, to get a handjob from Mark. They weren’t going to let him touch the whore unless he did it.

Jermaine sauntered towards Mark, who wasn’t sure what to do. He was a little insulted that they just assumed he wanted to do this, but they weren’t exactly wrong, and he certainly wasn’t going to stop them to explain political correctness. Jermaine’s wiry arms flexed as he stared at Mark with hostility, his short dreadlocks trembling. His cock was already sticking out from the fly of his sagging jeans.

A Soldier Comes Home

Here’s a sample from a brand-new story, A Soldier Comes Home, which is alpha male soldier worship about a girl and her stepfather!

 

Callie didn’t really smoke cigarettes, but she liked to have one now and then. She slipped outside into the early night, glad to have the fresh air even if she was about to ruin it with smoke. If Momma found out, she’d have been furious, so Callie hid her smoking when she was visiting from college. She wouldn’t have even smoked until she got back to school but she found a pack in her jeans with two cigarettes left in it, so she waited until Momma was asleep and then snuck outside to smoke.

She decided to go around to the front of the trailer because Momma might have her window open a crack, and Callie didn’t want any smoke to waft in there. Momma would blame Callie for a bad smell for years to come.

Back in high school, an old bitch named Mrs. Dauterive lived next door and would have surely told Momma if she saw her smoking. It made Callie feel guilty that she was a bit glad Mrs. Dauterive had died recently because it meant Callie didn’t have to worry about her seeing the lit cherry of Callie’s cigarette.

There was someone sitting on the front porch. Callie was shocked and yelped. She almost ran away to call the police, then realized he wasn’t moving. Was it someone who was injured?

Whoever it was lifted his hand to his mouth, and she saw a bright-red cherry on the end of his cigarette. He was smoking! Callie crept closer, sure it was an intruder, and she wished she had brought her cell phone out with her. If she screamed now, would it wake Momma up? The neighbors? She didn’t think so.

“I know you’re there, Callie,” said the man, whose deep, gravely voice was unfamiliar at first. He had a thick accent forged in the hollows of Appalachia, which rang familiar in her ears though it had grown deeper and raspier since she heard it last. He cleared his throat. “Come on and gimme a hug.”

“Daddy!” she screamed and ran to the porch. “Daddy Rick!” She grabbed him and hugged, then blushed and stepped back as she realized how immature she was acting. You ain’t a little girl no more, Callie, quit actin’ like one. He wasn’t even her real father — her mother had married him when Callie was sixteen, so they had spent a few years living together before his Army battalion was reassigned to Iraq.

“You’re going to wake your mother,” he said.

“So? You’re going to wake her up too,” Callie said. “Right? You were going to go in at some point-“

“I was going to sleep on the couch,” he said.

“What?”

“Things ain’t goin’ good ‘tween yer momma and me,” he said with a wan grin. “Our m’rriage is… strained. It’s gonna get better now that I’s back, but it is best fo’ now if’n I sleeps on the couch.”

“That’s terrible, daddy. Why are you back anyway? I thought it’d be at least another year?”

He nodded and blushed. She had never seen him looking so self-conscious. “I… I gots a striated bladder.” He said it with a pronounced drawl as though trying to pronounce something he had never said out loud before.

“A what?”

“I’s jest a stupid bladder condition. It’s not a big deal. But the Army doesn’t want me anymore,” he said. “At least not in the field. But I’m glad to be back Callie. I’m glad to see that you’ve grown into a beautiful young woman.” He nodded to the cigarette in her hand, still unlit. “Can’t say I approve of that, but it’d be hypocritical of me to make a big deal outta it.” He peered at it closer. “You know you’re supposed to light that, right?”

She giggled and lit her cigarette. “Is that why it hasn’t been working? Damn, this is why I need a father around!”

He laughed, and they both sat down on the porch. “Glad you’s an adult now.”

“Me too. I can go out as late as I want, no more wrangling with mom. My RA is a total bitch though. She shoots me dirty looks any time I come home after midnight,” Callie said. That wasn’t exactly true — her RA shot her dirty looks any time Callie came home in the morning, looking like she had just had sex. She didn’t intend to tell Daddy Rick about that.

“I been waitin’ fo’ you to get old enough,” he said.

“Old enough for what?” she asked, a shiver of excitement running up her back.

He didn’t say anything. He took a deep drag on his ciggie, then blew the smoke out his nostrils like an angry bull. “Fo’ whatever…” he said. His eyes narrowed to slits and looked up and down her body.

“Are you tryin’-a seduce me, Daddy Rick?”

He took his shirt off so quickly Callie was startled even though she was watching him closely. He had scruffy chest hair over his powerful body, and a few more tattoos than she recalled seeing. “Reckon you been seduced for some time, girl.”

Surviving the Alpha Dragon

This is a sample chapter from Surviving the Alpha Dragon, a story by Willow Hart!

 

“I…will speak in English in honour of our guests.” When he spoke he flashed teeth, his eyes moving up and down his circle of dancers as if to greet them each personally. His accent when he spoke English was not something I had ever heard before, and though I understood him perfectly I got a frightening sense that what was happening here really shouldn’t be, that I didn’t belong with them and they didn’t belong with me. While I stood there it felt like every memory beforehand was foggy and impossible, and yet standing there felt strangely impossible, too.

It took me a second to realise that he was talking about me. He held out two hands, and from the crowd Maddie hopped up beside him and took his left hand, with a small cutesy and a giggle bubbling from her red lips.

The man locked eyes on me.  I knew what he wanted, but I hesitated at the thought of all eyes being on me. Still, they were all patiently waiting for me to accept his hand. I stepped nervously from the throng, my heels sinking into the grass underfoot with every step, and reached his right hand and took it.

“These girls have agreed to help us by any means necessary. Thank them.”

His low voice, his booming energy, travelled like a spark through his enormous strong hand and into my body, and I tried to lock wide, confused eyes with Maddie’s softly smiling ones, but she was not looking at me.

The dancers rippled as they said that same word again, in unison, to us.

I looked up at the towering man, this beast of a human being, and wondered if I could ask him to let me go home. Was there perhaps a taxi service that could take me to a hotel nearby? Or something? But I certainly couldn’t embarrass myself by interrupting them right now.

The man looked down, regarding us directly and up close for the first time. He bore his eyes into my skull momentarily, looked at Maddie, and returned his gaze to me. His eyes were slightly crinkled at the corners as though he had spent many a decade considering the repercussions of every decision he made. Looking into his eyes I could see a wealth of experience, the weight of a life of power, regret, unparalleled strength. I looked into his eyes and almost felt my knees buckle underneath me as the implications of a life lived longer than any amount of time I could even comprehend hit me full force.

Finally he looked away and I could breathe steady again.

“These women agree to help us in our cause,” he boomed again. “Our survival may depend on the charity of these humans.”

The final word made me shudder. I had had an inkling, that they weren’t quite, but to hear it made everything grow fuzzy momentarily. I stayed standing, my jaw set, and didn’t allow my fear to show itself to my quiet audience.

“Our passage into this world, as we well know, was all for one reason and one reason alone: to pioneer our kind’s transition to and from this place.” I was hooked on his every word. Behind him I was vaguely aware of more large men entering, in differently coloured furs and belts, none as large as this man. “We need the help and the company of our people, and they can only enter if the passageway is energised once again.” He took a breath, I found myself trembling, and the other large men stood in a row behind him, waiting patiently for his speech to end.

“However,” he continued, “magic barely exists in this place at all. Our sages told us that there were only two sources.”

The audience roared their reply in unison. “Sexandeath!”

At that, the throng of a hundred people stripped their furs and stepped out of them, allowing their flesh to breathe and closing their eyes and sighing at the feeling of cool air on their bare nipples.

Some coupled up and rubbed against each other. They repeated their word, teasing it from lips unfamiliar with English sounds, moving their hips around to grind against each other, desperate for something. They rubbed palms over their diamond hard nipples and moaned as they pushed hard against anyone nearby, urgently seeking some sort of contact or pressure against their desperate skin.

I blinked, looked at Maddie.

“Sexandeath,” he repeated with a nod. “The human women to my left stumbled upon us two weeks ago and showed us the meaning of this riddle. Now she has returned with what she calls the second half.”

“Sex and death,” Maddie repeated, the words soft on her lips. Now, for the first time since our arrival, her eyes locked on mine, and her gaze did not waver.

“If I open their portal he’ll make me his queen,” she breathed to me. I stared at her, wide-eyed. “Sorry, Sophia, but you would have done the same.”

“Wait, what?” I said dumbly.

At a nod of their leader’s head, the drums began again, gently clattering to a new beat. The hairs stood up on the back of my neck.

“I will provide the first part of your riddle,” Maddie said, turning to rest her hands on the huge man’s thick shoulders, “and my friend Sophia will provide the second. And then your people – our people – will be free.”

“This is some fucked up bullshit,” I blurted, retracting my hand from his. I shook my head rapidly and turned to stumble out of the tent and find a way to civilisation, even if it meant hobbling along a dirt track for a day and a half. I was done.

A low whisper swept across the dancers. All eyes locked on mine, and their hands extended. I tried to push past but I couldn’t move an inch past their gripping, grasping limbs.

Behind me a rumble rippled from the centre of the room outwards. I heard Maddie squeal with glee and clap her hands. I felt hot air lick at the back of my neck.

Slowly I turned around.

The man was transforming. He was changing shape, size, even colour. His already impossibly thick, muscular body was hardening and swelling outwards, his chest barrelling and his skin turning into sparkling onyx scales, hard as rock, his nose pushed out into a crocodile muzzle, two large horns erupted from his darkened forehead, and finally, as he grew ever higher to graze the high domed ceiling, two leathery wings unfurled from his back, and fully opened.

He let out a shrieking roar, embers licking through parted fangs. Maddie screamed, but it was with excitement, and bounced from foot to foot like a child seeing a magician for the first time.

Rappers Downlow

Here’s a new story from the City Barbershop; it’s called Rappers Downlow and it’s an incredible tale of celebrity rappers getting freaky! It’s part of the Str8 Studs Downlow series.

 

(yes they’re fictional rappers, but you can picture whomever you like)

He didn’t know when he started thinking of himself as Freak-E. It was a slow process. It was just a nickname at first, back in junior high, one that his niggas only used every once in awhile. Then it was a silly name he used when he joined in on a friend’s album — that was the only “recording-type” name he had, so he naturally chose that; Freak-E just sang backup on one song. It was neat to see his name in print in the credits — Jason “Freak-E” Harkness. But it wasn’t a big deal. It was still just a nickname.

A year after graduating high school, he released a single of his own; his cousin had rented some studio time and then died suddenly. Freak-E was in a position to use the time up at his uncle’s insistence, so he did. He wrote the song on a whim, the morning before recording, when all he could think about was his dead cousin.

“Stiff As a Rod” was an “irreverent look at death and loss”, according to Spin magazine. The single went gold. Then it went platinum. Then it went double-platinum. Then the album, The Life and Death of a Black Man, went double-platinum as well.

Sometime along the way, everyone switched from calling him Jason most of the time and Freak-E occasionally to calling him Freak-E all the time and Jason only rarely. His old friend Rashad had been the one who came up with the name Freak-E back when they were in junior high school together, and he was the one who kept it alive. If Rashad hadn’t been around, the nickname would have died back in ninth grade.

But in a twist of irony, Rashad was the last person in Freak-E’s life to call him that exclusively. He kept on calling him Jason even when everyone else — including Jason’s mother — started calling him Freak-E, or at least just Freak. Rashad reminded Freak-E of their old friendship every single time he called him Jason, just like back in high school.

So Freak-E didn’t mind helping Rashad out. He gave Rashad a job, as his bodyguard — Freak-E didn’t really need one, except when he was on tour (when he needed an entire security company protecting him, not just one person, no matter how tough he was). He even paid for Rashad to record a single of his own. Freak-E guested on it, and it did pretty well for a first recording. Freak-E made it the first non-Freak-E record released through his new label.

So now they were both rappers. That made Freak-E feel a little less weird about employing his friend; he had never wanted to be Rashad’s boss, and now it felt more like they were coworkers.

“Hey, Freak!” he called out from the other side of the house. “Come on, nigga! I got anotha one of those strawberry blunts all wrapped up and ready to go.”

Freak-E felt like he was living in a museum. His house was full of nice things, but they were all unfamiliar to him — this house was so large it had wings like a museum, and it was full of expensive but useless stuff, also like a museum. He had to walk across four rooms just to get to Rashad.

All the fancy glass bongs in the world didn’t compare to the same old strawberry blunts he used to smoke. Freak-E could spend any amount of money on bowls and bongs and fancy cigars to use for blunts, but after experimenting with every possible means of smoking weed, he decided he still loved nothing better than cheap strawberry cigars.

Rashad had always been the best blunt-roller in their posse. He had little nimble fingers that were adept at keeping a smooth, consistently filled blunt. Freak-E could roll a serviceable blunt, but he took forever and often needed to start over, so that was one skill he kept Rashad around for.

“Yo, nigga, where’s Sharon?” Rashad asked.

Sharon was a backup dancer who had been hanging out with Freak-E and Rashad for some time. She was a cool, laidback white chick who loved sucking nigga dick while a blunt got passed around.

“She went back home,” Freak-E said. “Remember? Her motherfucking dog has cancer or some shit.”

“Oh yeah,” Rashad chuckled. “White people are crazy about they pets.”

Freak-E shrugged. He had had a dog in junior high, and when it died, Freak-E cried for weeks. He stayed home from school. He told his mom he’d never make a friend again. So Freak-E knew how Sharon was feeling; he just didn’t want to admit it to Rashad, who would never feel that way about an animal (or maybe even a person).

Rashad took a deep hit off the blunt, and then laid it down on the ashtray. He began unbuttoning his shirt. “Well, nigga, it’s been awhile. But let’s do this.”

Freak-E thought he had an idea what Rashad was suggesting, but he wasn’t sure. He thought that, as a celebrity, he shouldn’t lower himself to that level. “Rashad…”

Rashad looked at him. He was shirtless, his lean, ropy-muscled body flexing as he moved to drop his pants. “Yo? What?”

“I dunno, man… I should be able to get some chicks.”

Rashad gestured around the empty house. “Where they at, nigga?”

“I mean…” Freak-E didn’t want to get any chicks right now. That would end up taking all afternoon. They’d be excited to meet a celebrity. They’d probably want him to rap, and whether he agreed or not, it would be stressful and time-consuming, and they probably wouldn’t even suck dick very well.

“So come on, nigga. You too good to fuck around on the downlow?”

Freak-E didn’t like to think of himself as too good for anything, so he sighed. He nodded. It might be nice to get back to his roots, he thought as he stripped off his clothes.

Soon Rashad was on the ground on his back, and Freak-E got into position overtop him. He sighed. A part of him missed hanging out with Rashad and trading blowjobs every night they didn’t find any chicks to bang — things had seemed so simple then.

He straddled Rashad’s head and angled his dick down. He was glad to be on top — they used to argue about the positioning, but now Freak-E was in a position of power. There was no doubt about who would be on top.

He sighed as he felt a familiar moisture encircling his cock. He got hard right away, and he wondered if he could get away with not reciprocating.

But then he’d feel very bad about taking advantage of his old friend — indeed, his only friend. So he leaned in and swallowed Rashad’s cock.

The familiar sweaty flavor of cockmeat hit his nostrils. Rashad moaned as his dick got hard, and soon both black men where undulating as they fed their dick down each other’s throat.

It was somehow a more fulfilling blowjob than the one Sharon had given yesterday. Even though every thing about this blowjob was worse — it was being given by a man; Freak-E was in an uncomfortable position; he wasn’t very stoned — it managed to be better than Sharon’s.

Once the initial awkwardness passed, Freak-E found himself forgetting what he was doing; he could almost pretend he was sixty-nining with a girl. He was able to focus on the feeling of soft heat suffusing into his body through his cock, from Rashad’s gentle oral caress.

Freak-E instinctively wrapped his hands around Rashad’s asscheeks, savoring their plump thickness before remembering they were a man. He drew his hand away, hoping Rashad hadn’t noticed.

The smell of precum filled the room, and the taste covered Freak-E’s tongue. Rashad’s dark brown skin was dappled with sweat, his corded muscles writhing as he approached orgasm.

Both men wore several gold chains, so they splayed out, covering much of the space between them. Freak-E contorted and moaned around the cock in his mouth.

A part of Freak-E’s mind — the rational part — wanted him to pull out. Niggas didn’t usually cum in each other’s mouths when they were on the downlow, Freak-E thought, but he wanted more than anything right now to cum in Rashad’s velvety mouth. It would even be worth it, he decided, to taste his friend’s cum as well. It didn’t look like Rashad was planning on pulling out anyway.

Just like when Freak-E had touched Rashad’s ass instinctively without noticing it, he didn’t notice when Rashad did the same thing. Rashad’s hands first caressed Freak’s round cheeks, then moved up his muscular, tattooed chest until he got to the pecs. There he withdrew as though he noticed the lack of tits, which is when Freak-E noticed. He didn’t say anything.

Rashad blew his load first, but Freak-E got his out just a few seconds later. That was good because he would have probably lost his erection if he had tasted the cumload in his mouth first.

Semen spread over both men’s mouths, coating their tongues in creamy goodness. It was warm and thick, and it seeped down Freak-E’s throat. He had only swallowed cum twice before, but this was more pleasant than any of those other occasions. He almost groaned over the salty-sweet flavor before he cut himself off to avoid sounding gay.

“Thanks, nigga,” Rashad said as they pulled away from each other. “Glad to see fame ain’t changed ya, you can still fuck around on the downlow like a champ.” He flipped on the hotel TV. “Now we gonna sit up, smoke that blunt and watch videos on BET all night.”

For the first time in a long time, Freak-E was able to totally relax the rest of the evening.