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The Ogre Stud and the Motor in the Mud

Here’s the beginning of The Ogre Stud and the Motor in the Mud, a brand-new short story by Cassandra Flicker!


Lisa loved her new house. She had always wanted to live in an old-fashioned little farmhouse, and now she did. It was rickety and drafty and a little spooky at first, but it was everything she hoped it would be.
The land, however, was less appealing. The reason she could buy this land for a steal was that it simply wasn’t very good land — it had been farmed, briefly, but the family gave up decades ago. That’s why the farmhouse had been abandoned.
She went out one day to meet a local with a truck, whom she had hired to come help her. There was a large mud pit on her property, about a half-mile from her house. It was located where a couple of hills met, and it was down in the valley between them all. It looked like it would be perpetually muddy. If there was just a little more rain around here, it would have been a pond.
And there was an engine in it. An entire engine block, as though a car had vomited up its innards then crawled somewhere else to die. It was covered in inky black mud and moss.
So she had hired a local with a truck to pull it out. His name was Frederick, and he spoke like Boomhauer but he was very nice. He wasn’t helpful though. “I can’t get my truck in the mud there, miss, you gonna need a tow truck.”
She sighed and thanked him for trying. She even paid him twenty dollars, which was half of what she had offered to pay him. It felt like a rip-off since he hadn’t actually done anything, but she didn’t want to get a reputation as a skinflint among her new neighbors.
So now what to do? She had a feeling hiring a tow truck to come out here was going to cost hundreds of dollars. She could just leave the engine. It wasn’t hurting anything.
She decided to go to her neighbor, Dwayne. He was a bit weird, very intense and off-putting, so she didn’t really want to talk to him. But he was her only neighbor, and he had a small, successful beet farm. She thought he might know how to get the engine out, or at least he could satisfy her curiosity about why it was there.
“The engine? Oh yes, Martin Huffenpatter was drifting in the mud, doing donuts. He had done a lot of mods on his truck, making it purr like a kitten, and he spent a lot of time making sure the engine worked. He spent very little time making sure it was adequately secured within the body of the car in which it didn’t fit.” He leered and laughed. “As soon as he finished his run, he got out of the car, slammed the door and all of the car’s insides plopped right out in the mud.” Dwayne frowned, disappointed that she didn’t find the story as amusing as he did.
“Oh. I don’t suppose you have any bright ideas on how to get rid of it.”
“I could do it. I’ll get rid of it for a thousand dollars,” he said with a grin.
“Um… Lemme think about it,” she said. She was about to ask if he had a tow truck — maybe she could just rent it from him and do it herself — when he snapped at someone in the house behind himself.
“Hush, Elijah,” he said. He looked to Lisa. “Sorry, that’s my brother. He’s an ogre.”
“Oh. I, uh… Okay.”
She left soon after that. It was clear neither Dwight nor his weird brother, whom she didn’t even know existed until just now, could help her. Dwight didn’t have a tow truck. Apparently his plan, in its entirety, was to take her money and hire a tow truck himself. She could just do that directly.
Overnight, Lisa had an idea that she was pretty sure was stupid. She could, maybe, slide the engine block onto planks of wood that could be slid over the mud, like skis. She had no idea how feasible that was, but it seemed like the kind of thing that might work.
So on her morning jog, Lisa went to the mud pit just to see what it looked like again, with that plan in mind. Could she lift the engine block just a few millimeters to start wedging it under a piece of wood?
But she was distracted when she came near the mud pit because she saw a man standing there. He towered high, well over seven feet tall, and broad-shouldered like a bull. He had a thick, squat face that wasn’t exactly handsome — his features were squashed and thick and bulgey like his muscles — but there was something about him that was appealing too.
He had the engine block in his hands, dragging it through the mud. He glanced in her direction but didn’t acknowledge her. Finally he had the engine block out of the mud, laying on the side of the road. His shirtless frame was sticky with sweat and splattered with mud.
“Hello.” He had one of those ultra-deep voices, so baritone it hurt to listen to it.
Lisa blushed. “Hi.” She cleared her throat. “Uh, did you really just drag that engine block?” She would never have guessed that was possible. Even the strongest man in the world couldn’t do that, she thought.
He nodded and looked at her for a long time. “You are a very pretty lady. I will not eat you.”
“Oh.” Lisa had to blush and giggle because she was so nervous. “I, uh… I won’t eat you either.”

Taboo Night-Time Affair: The Drill Sergeant

Here’s a sample from Taboo Night-Time Affair: The Drill Sergeant, a new story of hardcore gay pseudoincest military brat sex!

Sammy was glad to be home from college. He had been excited to get out of high school, out of the family home, out of the tiny town of Carlisle, Wyoming he had grown up in. He didn’t regret leaving, of course, and he enjoyed college. It was just nice to be back in his old bed, under the same old roof and cozied up in the same old sheets. Everyone who said you can’t go home again were wrong, Sammy thought as he settled down in bed. He was so comfortable and secure that he nearly drifted right off to sleep.

But then the door to his room opened, and Sammy’s heart leapt up in his chest. He had begun dozing but managed to keep himself awake — he didn’t want to sleep yet because he wasn’t sure if Daddy was coming to see him in his room tonight or not. He normally only did it when he was drunk, but he had only had one beer tonight. Still, Sammy hoped he would make an exception, and when his door open, Sammy’s heart pounded as it always did — Daddy’s broad shoulders and military crewcut cast a sexy silhouette. Light and cold air from the hallway flooded Sammy’s room, but only for a moment. Then he shut the door, and the room was dark again, except for the dim green light coming from Sammy’s charging cell phone.

Then there was just Daddy standing there, his muscular body flexing as he watched Sammy lay prone on the bed. As he always did, Sammy pretended to be asleep. He was pretty sure Daddy knew he wasn’t asleep, but that made it easier for them both to pretend it hadn’t happened tomorrow. Their shared refusal to acknowledge their affair in the light of day made it all the sexier for Sammy.

Daddy had been sneaking into Sammy’s room to fuck him every couple of weeks since he married Sammy’s mom. Back then, Sammy had hated him — he was the evil stepfather as far as Sammy was concerned.

But the older he got, the less he hated Daddy (or Daddy Mike, as he sometimes called him). Daddy was a drill sergeant at Fort D.A. Russell, and Sammy knew that was a difficult job; it was stressful, and it often left him coming home from work upset. He had to deal with the cadets he called “shitweasels”, meaning spoiled, entitled brats who needed a stern hand.

That stern hand landed on Sammy’s back. Sammy stirred, pretending that he was just now waking up. He loved the tender feel of Daddy’s strong grip on his skin.

“Sssh,” Daddy said. “It’s just me, Sammy. It’s okay.”

“Oh, hi…” Sammy said, trying to sound as groggy as he could. This was his little ritual, pretending to have no idea Daddy was there, that he was alarmed, maybe even frightened to have this big, imposing figure looming above him in the darkness.

“How you doin’?” His fingers caressed Sammy’s shoulders, running underneath the t-shirt he slept in to touch Sammy’s smooth skin. “I know you said everything was fine at dinner. But I thought maybe there was somethin’ you ain’t wanna tell yer momma.”

Sammy shrugged. “No,” he said. “Well… Nothing major.”

“Tell me about it, son,” Daddy said. He sat down on the edge of the bed, weighing down the mattress with his powerful ass. Sammy was forced next to him, and for a moment, Sammy’s face was buried in his asscrack. Daddy wore only those Army-issue green shorts, which were thin, so Sammy could feel every hair of his stepfather’s ass rub against his face. He curled himself around Daddy’s body, hugging him close, and rested his head against Daddy’s thick thigh muscle.

“I… I like this girl,” Sammy said. “But I don’t think she likes me.”

Daddy smiled. “That’s normal, son. Just be yourself-“

“Well… I should say I do know, I know that she doesn’t like me,” Sammy said. “She said so.”

Daddy clucked his tongue against his teeth. “Oh, that’s tough. It happens though.” He patted Sammy on the back of the head.

“I know. I just… I thought I loved her. I thought she was The One,” Sammy said. “Before I talked to her outside of class. I had… I’m sorry, it’s embarrassing.”

“Go ahead, son, you can tell me anything.”

“I had a fantasy of us getting married,” Sammy said. He bit his lip. “I had it all worked out. I was already naming our kids.”

“That’s sweet.”

“I wanted to name our first son Michael.”

“After me?”

Sammy nodded and blushed, glad that Daddy couldn’t see his cheeks turn ruddy in the dark room — Sammy had hated Daddy Mike for so long that it was tough to admit that he loved him now, even if they had been getting along for almost a year before Sammy left for college. Daddy sniffled. Sammy got the impression he was teary-eyed.

“That’s sweet, son,” Daddy said; since he was emotional, his Alabama accent came to the fore, which Sammy enjoyed — he had always thought it was sexy. Daddy cleared his throat. “You know how many girls were The One befo’ yer momma? Six. No, wait, seven. I used to fall in love like some of my cadets fall off they bunk. I don’t even remember most of those girls’ names. Once you finally meet her, the woman you gonna spend the rest of yer life with, everything that happened before that is gonna seem like irrelevant ancient history.”

“I guess so.”

“She weren’t right for ya, Sammy. I can tell that just from how you talk about her,” he said. His hand roamed down Sammy’s back, then crept under the blankets. He touched Sammy’s asscheeks. “You’s a perfect boy; you deserve a perfect girl.”

“What if she’s not out there?”

“She is,” he said, “and until then, you got me.” His hand crept under Sammy’s sweatpants and onto his asscheeks. His fingers were rough and callused, which Sammy always thought should feel scratchy on his skin, but didn’t. It felt correct, exactly the way he wanted to be touched.

One of his fingers pressed right at the surface of Sammy’s asshole. He didn’t go in yet, he just circled the rim, sending little shocks of sexual pleasure up Sammy’s spine. Sammy began breathing heavy, glad that they were going to fuck tonight. It was a nice little welcome home present, he thought.

Filthy Alpha Male Worship: The Redneck

Here’s a new sample chapter from “Filthy Alpha Male Worship: The Redneck“, a story in the Redneck Screw society gay redneck erotica project!


It’s not easy being Pan, Jason thought, as he gazed out at the empty stretch of road his house sat on. He had become the reincarnation of Pan on his eighteenth birthday, gaining all of his former memories of time in ancient Greece but with few of the deific powers. He had the raging eroticism of the godly energy that possessed him, and there were times he could think of little else but fucking.

There were times when Jason wished he was a normal man again, but that phase of his life was gone. Everything had changed one moonlit night in September when the sky flashed with light, and a magical energy had consumed him. He was unharmed, waking the next morning feeling refreshed and ready to go. But he quickly discovered that he had gained a magical power: anyone near him became hornier and hornier.

It was, he soon learned, also a curse. Every person who lived near him ended up cheating on their spouses, so he moved to a little house in the country where his nearest neighbor was a mile away. When he saw a movie in a theater, the people around him started making out regardless of what movie it was. He couldn’t stay at a party for more than about six hours without it turning into an uncontrollable orgy.

Of course, he had as much sex as he wanted. Not only did he arouse anyone at any time, but he had grown significantly in stature and stamina during the magical lightstorm that had given him his powers.

As he settled into his new powers, Jason realized he hadn’t actually tested the radius of its effect. He had assumed the neighbors living a mile away wouldn’t be affected, but after living there for six months, even a residual effect might have become substantial. He decided to pay them a visit.

He had met the married couple one time before, when he first moved in. They were Tommy and Susan, but when he pulled up the driveway, it was only Tommy that he saw.

He didn’t look like things had been going well for him. He was a little skinnier, hairier and unshaven, his chest bare and gleaming with sweat. His hairs even extended over his shoulder to the top of his back.

The sun shone on his chest. He was dirty, as though he was just coming in from a camping trip. He looked dourly on as Jason got out of his truck.

“Howdy, neighbor,” Jason said. “I just wanted to invite you out for a beer-“ He paused, looking over the dirty home, which he knew had been clean when he was here last. That must have meant he lost his girlfriend, and Jason could probably guess why — he or she or both cheated. That’s what happened to everyone around him. “You and your wife?…” He let his voice trail off, and the look on Tommy’s face confirmed their separation.

“She gone,” he said. “I dunno about going out for a beer. I be fixin’-a look for a female. I need to get my nuts drained, pardon my french, and I know she gonna want money one way or another.”

“Sure, sure, but what if there was another option?” Jason stepped forward and let his eyes very clearly drop to Tommy’s crotch. Jason cleared his throat. “A way to get those nuts drained without paying for a female?”

Tommy looked down at him and wrinkled his nose. He stepped closer, his bare chest gleaming in the light that filtered through the trees. The smell of his sweat was heady and intoxicating. “You… queer?”

Jason nodded. “Not exactly, but…” He didn’t need Tommy to say yes to know what he wanted. Tommy’s reddish shoulders shuddered as Jason grabbed his crotch through his camo pants. He winced a little and looked around as though worried someone might see that he wasn’t resisting strongly, but he made no effort to stop Jason.

He dropped Tommy’s pants to his ankles and Jason fell to his knees. His tongue dived into Tommy’s tattered boxers, tasting the funky flavor of his drawers. The cotton was cheap and dingy, and it tasted like dickmeat, Jason thought.

He pulled his cock out through the fly. It was long and uncut, a dark brown like the tanner parts of his body, and it throbbed with veins. It was already half-hard as Jason gobbled it down.

“Oh fuck, I have been so horny, boy I tell you what… wish you was around last year, might-a saved my marriage.”

He tasted precum right away, and Tommy moaned. He sounded surprised at how good this felt. That made Jason proud — that was how sex with Pan should be, he thought, life-alteringly good. Tommy was right, I could have saved his marriage, Jason thought, because I’m a god.

His redneck cock began fucking Jason’s throat, delicately at first, then more boldly as Tommy realized he wasn’t dealing with a chick who didn’t like sucking dick. Jason devoured as much cockmeat as he could, and he made sure he got as much in his throat as anyone ever could. He even managed to hold his breath and snortingly, gaggingly bury his nose in Tommy’s unkempt pubic hair, all the way to the sweaty skin of his crotch.

“Goddamn, boy, you are fucking incredible!”

His filthy, mud-caked fingers gripped Jason’s head and held on tight as he shot his load. A thick wad of cum coated Jason’s mouth and slid down his throat. It was creamy and sour, and Jason savored the mind-numbing flavor. It soaked into his stomach. Jason sighed with relief.

As soon as he got every drop in his gullet, Jason slid down to the man’s balls and suckled. He was sweaty and unkempt, so sensitive that he gasped and held his breath as long as he could.

“Damn, that was good,” Tommy said. “Are all queers this good?”

“No,” Jason said. “Just me.” He loved the flavor of Tommy’s salty, post-fucking scrotum in his mouth. He reached up and stroked Tommy’s limp shaft, which was slowly getting hard again. Tommy’s whole body jerked, his muscles tensing up with every touch of Jason’s hand.

With his head under Tommy’s body, Jason left his balls behind and licked Tommy’s hairy taint. The sweat was stale and thick. He lapped his tongue all the way up Tommy’s crack to his butthole, then plunged his tongue all the way in.

Tommy grunted in shock and got down on all fours. His dick was fully erect again, and pulsating in Jason’s hand. His body writhed with the tension of getting hard again so soon after cumming once before.

But Jason’s tongue relentlessly poked and prodded Tommy’s prostate. The taste of his anal filth made Jason shoot his own load in his pants.

A thick spurt of cum leaked out Tommy’s dick, and his whole body jerked. His rectum tightened around Jason’s tongue as he grunted. His load wasn’t as big this time, but when Jason licked it up, it tasted just as good.

Tommy laid on the ground, on his back. His dick was angry red and pulsating. Jason stood up and grinned. “Thanks, neighbor,” he said.

Hairback Appreciation Society: Convict Worship

Here’s a sample chapter from a new series, the Hairback Appreciation Society. This one is called Convict Worship, and it’s the incredible story of Rufus, a hairback lover who worships a convict alpha male fresh out of prison. It’s also part of the Brutewood Correctional Facility.


Rufus’ heart started pounding from the moment he saw men file past the prison gates. This is really happening, he realized, I am about to find the sexiest hairback around! He didn’t see the one he was looking for at first, but when he did, Rufus almost fainted.

He was Wendell “Thumper” White, a former pro-boxer who was finally leaving prison. He was not extremely tall, but he was thick and wide-bodied, not sculpted like he used to be yet still retaining all the power of his pro-athlete days. Rufus had arranged to pick him up and take care of him, but hadn’t given Thumper any information on who he was or why. Thumper, for his part, gave little indication that he cared. He seemed to just assume that Rufus was from some sort of halfway home.

Rufus waved to him and approached to shake his hand. Thumper just shrugged, shook and hopped in the passenger seat of Rufus’ car.

“Hello, Mr. White,” Rufus said. “I-“


“I’m sorry?”

“Call me Thumper. Not Mr. White,” he said.

“Oh, okay, sure. Thumper it is.”

“Whatchoo want from me?”

“Well… I’ve heard that you were in need of a place to stay. I-“

“What’s in it fo’ you? You a cop? I won’t snitch, man.”

“No, I’m not a cop. I just want to service you. I want to lick every inch of your body. I want to suck your dick and your ass and your balls-“ Rufus wasn’t usually this blunt, but he got the impression Thumper liked being direct.

“I ain’t queer,” Thumper said, in a way that suggested he was fine with Rufus’ plan, he just wanted to be sure Rufus knew it would be one-sided. In truth, Rufus only liked bottoming, he wouldn’t want to be with Thumper if Thumper was versatile.

“I know,” Rufus said. “I heard you were flexible behind bars, that you like fucking slim, hairless twinks. That’s me.”

“I don’t take dick.”

“Oh, I know. I wouldn’t want you to. I’m a bottom,” Rufus said. He didn’t live far away from the prison, so they were already pulling into his driveway. His heart nearly pounded out of his chest — there were so many ways an arrangement like this could go wrong, he thought, and so few it could go right.

“You like prison cock?”

Rufus nodded. “I love it.”

“You like black cock?”

“Love that too.”

Thumper smiled. “Alright, but if I’m gonna let some queer paw all over me, we doin’ things my way. Gimme money too.”

Rufus frowned. “Well, I don’t have any cash…”

“You can go get some later,” Thumper said. He got out of the car and walked with Rufus to the front door. Thumper leaned over and whispered in Rufus’ ear, “You gonna worship me?”


Thumper sneered in disgust. He looked around for neighbors as Rufus unlocked the front door, then Thumper grabbed Rufus by the head. He pulled on his hair until Rufus’ whole body tensed up. Thumper sneered at him. “If you gonna be my bitch, you gonna act like a bitch, a female dog. A bitch decide what kinda man she like by sniffin’ his ass. So get on yer knees and smell my ass, bitch.”

Rufus blushed but did as he was told. Thumper wore lime-green basketball shorts which sagged low to reveal a bare asscrack covered in thick, kinky black hair. Rufus inserted his nose into the sweaty crack and inhaled deeply.

“Yeah, smell yo’ daddy real good, bitch.”

The smell was overpowering, musky and it made his eyes water. Rufus inhaled again as Thumper scoffed, then strutted inside. Rufus had to scamper behind him to keep his nose ensconced in Thumper’s hairy crack. Thumper grinned. “When you’s about to leave, they don’t let you stay in yo’ cell. They make you be in solitary for a couple days,” he said. “So I ain’t had a bitch in a bit.”

“You must be horny as hell, you poor baby… You want me to put on some straight porn?” Rufus asked.

“Hell yeah. Put on something wit’ a white bitch gettin’ double-teamed,” Thumper said. “I’ll take a shower.”

Rufus stood up, then blurted out, “No!” He hesitated as Thumper bristled at being given an order. “I mean… I want to lick the prison off you.”

“Oh, you one of them nasty kind of faggot?”

Rufus nodded. “The nastier the better.” He bent over his computer and hurried to a free porn site he knew of — he didn’t have any straight porn, so it took him a few minutes to find one.

Thumper started grabbing at his ass in a decidedly prison-rough way — he was crude and forceful, and he growled as though having trouble not raping Rufus right then and there. Stripping his shirt off, Thumper shoved one hand down the back of Rufus’ pants and jabbed a finger into his asshole.

“You my bitch?”

“Yes,” Rufus clicked play. He wasn’t sure this was a long enough video, but he was suddenly too horny to focus. It would have to do. It didn’t seem Thumper was paying much attention anyway.

“Who owns yo’ ass?”

“You do.”

“Say my name.”

“Thumper owns my ass,” Rufus said.

“That’s right,” Thumper said.

Rufus turned around and kissed his bare bicep. He tasted of dust and sweet and stainless steel, the flavor of prison, Rufus thought, distilled into one musky flavor that Rufus couldn’t get enough of. Thumper flexed his arm and chuckled at Rufus’ aroused reaction.

Diving into one armpit, Rufus inhaled deeply. The overpowering sweat hit his nostrils like an acrid train, and Rufus moaned with pleasure. He suckled each hair in Thumper’s armpit, marveling at how thick the hairs were, how kinky and curled, and how much of his own manhood had been trapped there over the years. It was strong enough to make Rufus’ eyes water.

He licked around to Thumper’s back, tasting each hair as he went. He licked the man’s back from shoulder to the top of his asscrack, going back up and down, kneeling to get as low as he could then standing on his toes to get up on top of his shoulder.

Thumper shuddered; he was a little ticklish, it seemed. He chuckled dryly. “You really is nasty. I made one of my bitches do this a couple years ago. Cried the whole fucking time.”

“He’s an idiot.”

Thumper nodded. “Yep, that he is. You don’t mind that my back’s hairy?”

“Mind? I love it. That was one of the things that drew me to you,” he said.

“All the young cats in my cell say I gotta get my bitch to shave my back,” he said. “They said you can’t leave prison with a hairy back. It’ll look bad to everyone outside the gang. You’ll never get a chick.”

“Not everyone gets it,” Rufus said. “Specially women.” He normally didn’t lick anyone’s back this long, but the more Thumper made a big deal out of it, the more he didn’t want to stop. He did move to the small of Thumper’s back and worked on slathering every inch of that with his spit.

“You know what to do,” Thumper murmured softly as he dropped his pants. He had hairy trunk-like thighs, and Rufus gave them each a quick lick. But it was obvious that Thumper wanted a rimjob. He bent over the couch and stuck his round, hairy ass in the air right in front of Rufus’ face.

He dove right in and licked the sweat out of Thumper’s asscrack. His tongue left a trail right through the center of his ass, while Rufus used both hands to separate the cheeks. Thumper’s dark asshole beckoned like a tasty treat.

He plunged in, and tasted a direct feed of Thumper’s essence. It was like chugging a beer made of musk, he thought, and the grimy, hairiness of Thumper’s ass made it even hotter.

Thumper growled and grunted and his muscular body writhed as though Rufus’ tongue was painful. He howled and bit his lip. He pounded his meaty fists on the ground to emphasize how good this felt, and he even lifted one foot off the ground. He shook his dangling foot as sexual tension roiled his middle-aged body.

His was dirty and grimy and hairy, exactly as Rufus liked it. As he lapped at the ebony hole, his hands delicately massaged Thumper’s hairy lower back, which writhed above Rufus’ head as Thumper responded to the rimjob. Rufus suspected he hadn’t had a rimjob from someone who wanted to give one in a long time, and he was surprised about how intense the pleasure was shooting up his intestines.

“Ah, fuck yeah nigga, you oughtta go to the prison and give some fucking lessons,” he said softly. His hips were undulating and pushing back now, as though his rectum was trying to fuck Rufus’ mouth. He used his ass and hips to pin Rufus against the wall, rubbing his hairy cheeks and hole on every inch of Rufus’ face.

Without a word of warning, Thumper turned around and slammed his dick down Rufus’ throat. He was just in time for the first wad of cum to land deep in Rufus’ gullet, making him gag just a little before guzzling the rest of the load down.

Thumper lightly smacked him on the cheek with one hand, using the other to caress his neck like an owner making sure his dog swallowed a pill. “Go on, swallow it, bitch. Swallow daddy’s seed.”

His semen was copious and creamy, but it had a certain wateriness that Rufus suspected was due to the prison diet. It was sour and snotty, and it stuck to Rufus’ tongue and mouth as he swallowed it down.

“Show me yo’ mouf, boi.”

Finally he was done and Rufus showed off his empty mouth. Thumper sneered and nodded. “Disgusting, faggot. Go clean my sweat off yo’ stupid queer face. Then go to the ATM and get me cash.”