Tag Archives: gangsta sex

Downlow Thugs on City Streets

Here’s a sample from the beginning of Downlow Thugs on City Streets, a new story by Calvin Freeman, about the sexy man-on-man shenanigans that go on in urban Baltimore!


Chad didn’t try to act tough, and he made it very clear he was gay. He had been living in rough urban ghettos for most of his life, so he knew that was the best way to go — if he tried to be tough, people would challenge him. If he acted like a sexy flamboyant gay man, the thugs, addicts and drug dealers who lived around here would treat him more or less like a woman they weren’t attracted to: they’d ignore him.

That was what Chad wanted. So he didn’t worry about the eyes following him whenever he came into the courtyard of the Baltimore housing projects he lived in. He knew he looked good — slim, pale skin, blond hair, lithe and leanly muscled body visible beneath the bare midriff t-shirt and short shorts he wore. He heard snickering from the black men and women who filled the courtyard, but Chad didn’t care.

“Crack! Crack!”

“Want some rock, Pinkberry?”

There were two young black men sitting on a couch in the middle of the courtyard. They were there all the time. They offered Chad crack every time he walked past. It seemed they didn’t know of any other reason a gay white man might be here in the projects. They had to have figured out that Chad lived here by now, he thought, but they still acted like he was just hanging around looking for drugs.

“I can sell you whatchoo want, boy,” said the younger one, Brodie.

“You want tina? I can get you tina too,” said the older one, Marcus.

That impressed Chad enough to make him giggle as he passed them by. “Tina? Somebody’s been doing research.”

“You smoke meth?”

“No,” Chad said. “But I appreciate you looking up gay lingo online.”

“We aim to please, whiteboy.” Brodie said. He was younger, with a harsh, arrogant face — he looked like he was supposed to be a jock and bully, but had gotten sucked into a life of crime instead, so his jutting face was lined with premature wrinkles even though he wasn’t even old enough to drink. He had deep dimples and dark, flashing eyes. Chad had thought he was sexy since the moment he first saw him (Marcus was sort of hot too, in his way, but he was portly and scruffy; Brodie could have been a model, Chad thought). Brodie tried his best at a charming smile. “Cuz you look like you need a pipe in ya mouth, boy. Yo’ mouth is needin’ something to fill it, that’s for sure.”

They both guffawed and slapped hands with each other. Chad stood there and smiled, jutting his ass out so they could see how plump and round it was. They both glanced at it, then fell quiet and avoided looking at each other.

Finally Brodie added, “So wuzzup, you want that rock or not? Or meth?”

“I said no.”

“You ain’t actually say no about crack. You said no about meth.”

Chad made a big dramatic show of pondering the issue. He tapped on his forehead with one finger. “Well, Brodie, I’ll give you a simple yes or no answer, if you pull your cock out and let me take a look.”

Brodie sniffled and his eyes bugged out, but he affected a look of a nigga who ain’t care. He shrugged, flashing an annoyed look at Marcus — who seemed to think that was hilarious. Marcus screamed laughter, clapped his hands and ran in a little circle around the couch they were both sitting on.

“So…” Brodie winced and looked at Marcus. Brodie rolled his eyes. “Uh…” It was hard to say anything over the sound of Marcus screaming peals of laughter.

“Do it, nigga, c’mon. Don’t Stringer say do what you gotta do to make the sale?”

“He ain’t say he gonna buy somethin’, he just gonna tell me whether he into it,” Brodie said. “And we already know he ain’t cuz we asked him before.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

Chad smiled and crossed his arms over his much more delicate chest. His skin rippled, visible because of that bare midriff his t-shirt exposed. “So you asked me before and you remember my answer? You already know whether or not I smoke crack?”

Brodie nodded and shrugged. “Yeah, I know you don’t.”

“So why did you ask me again?”

“Cuz you might’ve started, man!” Brodie threw his hands in the air. “I don’t gotta do it.” He looked at Marcus, who was quieting down. “I ain’t gonna do it, nigga. It ain’t about a sale. He just wanna look at my dick.”

Chad nodded. “Sure, that makes sense. It’s kind of chilly today anyway, your dick is probably small right now. Don’t embarrass yourself.”


“I’m sure no one will ever find out I was considering buying some crack and only didn’t cuz you were too scared to show my your dick.”

“You ain’t considerin’!”

“You don’t know that. Every crackhead has a first time, Brodie,” Chad said.

“I ain’t scared. My dick ain’t small,” Brodie said.

“Well, then, ugly or whatever, I don’t know. Obviously there’s a reason you don’t feel safe whipping it out. That’s understandable. Gay men are catty bitches. If your dick doesn’t pass muster, I will critique it thoroughly,” Chad said, making Marcus erupt in laughter again.

“Man, fuck you, whiteboy,” Brodie said. He sucked on his teeth and glared at Marcus. He did that several times, like he kept deciding to do it, then changing his mind before talking himself into it again. “Man! Fine! Whatever, nigga! Marcus, shut ya face! Man, Marcus! Marcus!” He shook his head because Marcus ignored him. “Marcus, don’t act like a fuckin’ fool! Hey!”

“I’m waiting,” Chad said with an exaggerated yawn.

Brodie snarled. He unzipped his fly and reached in. He let a suitably massive cock flop out, making Chad blush a little and gasp. Brodie looked around, but no one was looking in his direction — Marcus danced around the courtyard laughing and attracting attention — so he swung his hips, making his cock bounce around.

Chad reached for it, wrapped one hand around it and squeezed. Brodie gasped. For just a moment, it felt like Brodie was going to allow this, and Chad would be able to give him a handjob. But then Brodie tucked his dick away and pushed Chad.

“Alright, you got ya peek, whiteboy,” Brodie said. “So go ahead and say yes or no.”

“He did it! He did it!” Marcus screamed, his face exuberant as though he had been waiting for this. “He whipped it out, nigga!”

“Marcus, shut up!”

Chad smiled. “Are you the kind of dealer who makes his customers suck him off sometimes?”

“No. I got females, nigga. Can’t use a crackhead’s blowjob to buy food for my mama, can I?”

Marcus scoffed. “You don’t buy food for ya mama-“

“It’s just an example, Marcus.”

Chad shrugged. “A pity. Well, my answer, Brodie, is no. I do not want to buy crack, but thanks for giving me a peek at your cock. It’s very nice. A little smooth for my taste, but I bet it gets veinier when it’s hard.”


Chad turned around. “I’m not going to give you permission to watch me walk away.” He shook his ass. “But I know you will.”

Str8 Thugs at the City Barbershop

Here’s the first chapter of Str8 Thugs at the City Barbershop, a new story by Calvin Freeman! It’s about one sexy twink who loves to service the black gangstas and gangbangers of the City Barbershop!

Harvey was just about done for the night when there was a loud knock on the door. The City Barbershop of Wilmington, Delaware was closed, so he didn’t want to answer it. He had closed the shop tonight, so he had stayed late to count the register, clean up and get the shop ready for tomorrow morning. Unlike virtually all of the other barbers here, Harvey actually did everything he was supposed to when he closed. He didn’t just leave it for the next day’s crew to do in the morning.

He also locked the door strictly at ten o’clock. If there were still customers in the shop — there weren’t today — he’d finish their haircuts, but he didn’t let anyone in after ten.

Now he was in the backroom, having just finished counting the register when he heard that insistent pounding on the front door. He hurriedly shoved the money into the safe just in case, then peered into the frontroom. He didn’t want whoever it was outside to know he was here, so he could still pretend the shop was empty.

Yo! Hey! Theo! Franklin! You two in there?!

There was loud, raucous laughter, a group of niggas. They sounded like thugs, which made Harvey nervous. Was he about to be robbed? He was a thin gay twink, one of several who worked here at the City Barbershop. This shop was known for a special tradition — straight black men could come here for a quick blowjob on the downlow, no questions asked. Harvey was still new so he had only sucked off a few swaggering sexy thugs, but he was well familiar with the tradition. It was half the reason he wanted to work here.

Theo and Franklin were the other two gay guys here. They had gone home hours ago. They were engaged to be married, but they both still sucked off straight guys — it wasn’t cheating, it seemed, if it happened at the City Barbershop.

A part of Harvey was disappointed that the laughing men weren’t asking for him. He knew it was just because he was new. If they were really here for a blowjob — which is what their nervous bravado and laughter suggested — they wouldn’t care too much who did the sucking. They just mentioned Theo and Franklin because they had worked here for a long time, while Harvey was still new.

Hey! I see you, nigga!

It’s that new nigga. What’s ‘is name?

Harvey! Hey Harvey, let us in! You wanna swing on this dick?

Harvey shivered. He went out into the front and pretended like he had only just now heard the men. There were five of them. One was Reggie — he was the one who had knocked — and the other four gripped a shirtless thug whom Harvey didn’t know. The shirtless thug writhed and smiled like he didn’t really want to be here but didn’t want to fight back either.

He opened the door, and they all pushed in. It was chilly out, cold enough that it was strange for the one thug to be shirtless. That was when Harvey noticed the tattoo on his belly. The shirtless man had the word NINE tattooed in an arc on the top left side of his belly, like the left half of the classic THUG LIFE tattoo. The skin around the E was reddish and flaky — that was a new tattoo.

“Yo nigga, this here is Varshawn. You like him?” Reggie asked. Everyone except Varshawn chuckled. Varshawn sighed and rolled his eyes. The muscles of his bare chest writhed. Reggie patted his belly, and Varshawn writhed, grimacing because of the sensitive tattoo flesh. “Huh? You think he’s hot?”

“Uh… Yeah, I guess so,” Harvey said. He blushed and put his hands on his hips.

He ain’t nevuh gotten a blowjob from a nigga.

He say he can’t get hard that way.

“I can’t,” Varshawn said. He alone sounded weak and confident. “I’m a Christian nigga. We don’t do that in Richmond.”

I know that is bullshit.

“You gonna blow a big ol’ nut, Varshawn,” Reggie said. He grinned. “Varshawn here was just gettin’ a tattoo and he sayin’ he can’t get hard wit’ a nigga on his dick. We said we could prove that ain’t true. You suck dick, right? You suck good. I was gonna ask for Theo, I know he can suck the foreskin off a Jamaican, nigga.”

These men were all Nine Tats. That was a widespread street gang all of whom got the same tattoo, the words NINE TATS tattooed in an arc on their upper belly, with an underline beneath it. Only they didn’t get the entire tattoo at once — every time they committed some act to prove their devotion to the gang, they got a new letter tattooed on. Only the toughest and highest-ranking thugs ever got all eight letters and the underline, which was the final step. None of the men here had the underline, or even all eight letters. Reggie had NINE TA, and he was the most powerful gangbanger in Wilmington that Harvey knew of.

Someone undid Varshawn’s belt and his loose-sagging jeans fell to the ground Varshawn smiled nervously. His friends held onto his elbows like they were forcing him into it, though neither actually gripped him, so Varshawn could have walked away if he wanted to. They led him into the shop, the bell on the door tinkling as it swung shut.

Harvey was so surprised and aroused that he didn’t even think about shutting the curtains of the shop before he sunk to his knees. He was about to suck dick in full view of everyone walking or driving by, on one of the busiest streets in Wilmington. Luckily Reggie thought of that before Harvey got too far. He closed the curtain and made sure the door was locked. Harvey pulled down Varshawn’s boxers to reveal a thick, plump brown cock, dangling between his legs. It was as limp as could be.

“Ah, man, ah… You really gonna make a nigga do this?” Varshawn asked. He had a big nervous grin on his face, and he couldn’t stop laughing. He covered his face with one hand. His eyes kept darting between Reggie and his other niggas, who all chuckled along with him.

Harvey stuck his tongue out and licked Varshawn’s meat from tip to root. That sent a shudder of pleasure up Varshawn’s spine, and he stopped laughing for just a moment, like he was surprised that it didn’t hurt.


Then Harvey put the tip in his mouth, just the first inch or so, and he loudly suckled as though he was trying to suck the end of Varshawn’s cock right off. The other niggas had all suggested Harvey might not be as good of a cocksucker as Theo, so Harvey wanted to prove they were wrong. Whatever happened here was going to be the subject of rumors and gossip for months to come, so it was likely to cement his reputation. Varshawn writhed, and his dick jerked.

There it goes, nigga!

You gettin’ hard.

Tol’ you it’d happen, nigga!

Harvey deep-throated it, letting that entire cock slide down his throat. He got almost the whole thing in there before gagging forced him to stop, and the shaft began to straighten and stiffen up. Varshawn watched with wide, horrified eyes like a mad scientist seeing his creation run amok. He kept his arms firmly away from Harvey, unwilling to touch him though that had the result of forcing Varshawn’s hands to grip his niggas, who still held him in place. So to avoid touching a gay man, Harvey, Varshawn groped the well-muscled, tattooed bodies of his fellow gangbangers. He didn’t seem to notice the irony.

The cock pulsating in his mouth tasted of fine coffee and cocoa butter, a taste that Harvey adored. He forced himself to keep that entire cock in his throat for as long as he could manage, despite his choking and sputtering, because he wanted to shock Varshawn with how good his blowjob was.

You likin’ it now, nigga!

That plan apparently succeeded. Varshawn’s giggling turned into surprised murmuring, and Varshawn writhed like he was epileptic. His niggas’ held him just tightly enough that he would have to pull hard to get away, but he remained free to go anytime.

He just didn’t want to go, that much was clear. His nervous smile turned more and more aroused, like he was forgetting his initial reluctance. His dick throbbed in Harvey’s mouth, his sour-sweet precum flowing down Harvey’s throat.

Reggie sidled up closer to Varshawn, who didn’t notice because his eyes were closed. The other niggas hushed their own giggling like schoolchildren. Reggie waited until he was so close he nearly kissed Varshawn, then he said, “Whatchoo think, nigga?”

Varshawn’s eyes popped open and he yelped. He blushed as they all laughed. Varshawn was obviously a lot less comfortable with man-on-man contact than the others, and he avoided looking at Reggie. He breathed heavily and closed his eyes again.

“Huh? You scared of gays, nigga? Huh? You wanna be a thug, right? You wanna join us? You gonna end up doin’ a lot worse than gettin’ sum head from a nigga. Can you handle it? Huh? Say somethin’, nigga.”

Varshawn gulped. “Uh… Yeah… I can handle it. I’m doin’ it, ain’t I?”

“Open yo’ eyes, nigga.”

Varshawn did so. Reggie was still right there, so close his breath condensed on Varshawn’s cheeks. Reggie placed one hand lightly on Varshawn’s belly, which made Varshawn’s entire body ripple like he was ticklish.

Despite Varshawn’s obvious embarrassment, his dick just got harder and harder. Precum dripped in great gobs down Harvey’s throat. He loved the flavor of precum, especially in fresh cocks that hadn’t bust any time recently. He could tell that was half the reason Varshawn had gotten hard so quickly — he was horny.

“You gonna nut, nigga?” Reggie asked, laughing when his voice made Varshawn writhe.

Varshawn didn’t answer. He just wrinkled his nose and flexed his hips to shove his dick down Harvey’s throat. His hands still flailed at his side, instinctively gripping Reggie’s broad shoulders and rippling chest muscles. Varshawn didn’t even seem to notice what his hands were doing.

Fill that nigga up!

Yeah, suck that shit, suck it, damn…

Finally Harvey felt Varshawn’s dick pulsating with the power of his orgasm. He gasped and clawed at his niggas’ bodies all around him, while Harvey gulped down wad after wad of creamy cum.

There he goes!

His climax looked almost painful. He contorted, ripping himself away from the niggas who had been holding onto his arms and shoulders. He grunted. He bit his lip, sending an impossibly copious load of cum into Harvey’s stomach.

Harvey was focused on the taste and feel of cum inside his belly, so he didn’t see Reggie kiss Varshawn. It was just a quick, chaste peck on the lips, clearly an awkward attempt to freak Varshawn out. As soon as it happened, they all burst into cheers and laughter as Varshawn barked, squirmed and pulled his head away. Harvey kept on draining the last of his cum while Varshawn tried to pretend he wasn’t upset by the kiss.

“You squeamish as shit, nigga,” Reggie said. “You gonna have to work on that.” He put his hands on his hips and nodded as Varshawn looked away. He even wiped his lips off like Reggie might have contaminated him.

Eventually it was all done. Varshawn was limp and sweaty, sitting in a barber’s chair. Harvey kept sucking until Varshawn pushed him away — Harvey liked doing that because he loved the feel of a rubbery cum-drained cock limply throbbing in his throat.

“Damn, nigga, you like a vacuum cleaner and shit…” Varshawn said with a laugh. He exchanged awkward glances with the other niggas. He gingerly cleaned his dick off with a tissue, and avoided looking at Harvey.

Told you he’d make you hard. Make you cum real good.

Ain’t nobody can resist a blowjob at the City Barbershop.

Everyone laughed at Varshawn so much Harvey felt a little sorry for him. But that didn’t stop him from diving back in and licking his cock again — it was limp and clammy, dry until Harvey slathered spit all along it. Varshawn groaned like he was annoyed, then shuddered as his dick jerked beneath Harvey’s tongue.

“Sorry, I just needed another taste,” Harvey said. Varshawn eyed him suspiciously, sighed and rolled his eyes. He grabbed another tissue to reclean his dick off.

This time, when he was done, Harvey tried to lick him yet again but Varshawn was waiting. He pushed Harvey away. “Nah, nigga, you done. You had yo’ fill,” he said through gritted teeth. He looked angry, but Harvey wasn’t worried — Reggie and the other niggas laughed so hard at Varshawn’s reaction that they were doubled over, wiping tears from their eyes.

“Quit laughin’, niggas, damn,” Varshawn said. He blushed and bit his lip. He took a deep breath as he pulled his jeans back up. “I ain’t know this town was into the gay shit like that.”

“Nah, nigga, we ain’t into that gay shit,” Reggie said with a cruel grin. “You is. That’s what I heard. I heard you let niggas suck you off and shit.”

Harvey giggled. “I heard a rumor you let some nigga kiss you. I’m an authority on gays, and nigga, that makes you gay.”

“All y’all shut up!” Varshawn screamed. “I know this ain’t part of it. I got my tattoo. I did what I gotta do. Fuck you all!” He walked straight towards the door, ignoring the laughter and jeers from Harvey, Reggie and the other niggas.

“Okay, sweetie, I’ll see you at home,” Harvey said, making Reggie and the others laugh so hard they cried. Harvey whistled at Varshawn’s swaying ass as he walked out the door.