Tag Archives: gay hazing

First-Time Jocks Get a Happy Ending: A Wrestler Tradition

Here’s a sample from the beginning of First-Time Jocks Get a Happy Ending: A Wrestler Tradition, a new story by Happiest Ending!

 

Every year, the wrestling team told their new freshmen about the “happy ending tradition”. They were told that they had to get a “happy ending” from Charlie, the team masseur and physical therapist. He used to work in a massage parlor nearby, but now just worked directly for the team. He was available after every game and every practice — and at many other times, depending on his schedule.

It wasn’t really a rule, at least not one that anybody enforced. The seniors told the freshmen it was a rule. But it wasn’t like the seniors monitored everyone’s cocks to see who got handjobs from whom, and Charlie refused to say. He claimed medical confidentiality. So no one had any way of knowing who had done it and who hadn’t.

But the freshmen only figured that out gradually. When the seniors told them it was required in September, the ones who were comfortable with it did it right away. The rest put it off and eventually forgot or pretended they had already done it. The seniors occasionally asked for updates on who had done it, but they never had any way of checking.

So when the freshman Delroy showed up after one practice, Charlie felt duty-bound to tell him he didn’t have to go through with it.

“They won’t check, man, and I promise I’ll tell them you did it if they ask,” Charlie said.

“Really? Oh holy shit, thanks, man,” Delroy beamed. His tangled mop of brown hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat. His singlet was soaked too, crumpled on the floor, his youthful muscles bulging through the fabric. Delroy was a freshman, but he had been a poor student his whole life and had failed two years of grade-school (held back in fifth and eighth grade), so he was older and much bigger than other freshmen. He had a tuft of coarse black chest hair that just barely poked out from his singlet when he wore it — Charlie fantasized about sucking on that bit of chest hair every time he saw Delroy in the singlet.

Charlie felt a pang of regret: He had a feeling he could have told Delroy anything was mandatory and he’d have done it. He kneaded Delroy’s muscled shoulders. When he gave a massage, he didn’t much think about sex, even if the men he massaged were sexy — he was a professional, and he did it so often that it didn’t feel sexy.

But Delroy had been talking about sex and generally making it hard to avoid thinking about it. His pre-shower post-practice musk filled the air, making it difficult for Charlie to focus.

“I was gonna try to find you tonight, like see if I could come to your place,” Delroy said with a groan as Charlie worked a knot out of his back. “I’m getting drunk at the Halloween party tonight. I thought I could get a blowjob from a gay dude if I was drunk.”

“Uh-huh,” Charlie said. “You know it doesn’t have to be a blowjob?”

“What? I’m not doing anal.” He scoffed.

“No, I mean a handjob.”

“Oh. Really?”

“Yep.” Charlie nodded though Delroy’s eyes were closed so he didn’t see.

Delroy fidgeted on his back, eyes closed. His fingers rubbed each other and he shifted his weight. Charlie had to suppress a giggle.

“Really? Just a handjob?” It sounded like he didn’t believe it.

“Yeah, that’s all they expect. That’s what a ‘happy ending’ is,” Charlie said.

“Oh… Is that… ? I mean, like… you’re gay, right?”

“Yes.”

“So do you…?” He blushed. “I mean… do you like… want to?”

“What?”

“Sorry, I don’t know what gays are into. I mean, dudes. I know that. Gays are into dudes. But like… do you like giving handjobs?”

“I do.”

“Why?” He laughed and blushed. He opened his eyes and looked down over his expansive chest. He still wore his jockstrap, which was dingy gray. His cock twitched. “Sorry.”

“Delroy, do you want a handjob?”

He bit his lip. “I mean… I ain’t think you would do that. I guess I thought you’d make me put it in your mouth. I can’t do that. That’s too gay. Okay? Don’t do that.” He paused. “Yeah. Yes. You can jack me off.”

Pitching and Catching

Here comes the newest story of jock erotica by Randall Eisenhorn, alongside Jake Sexton in Pitching and Catching!

 

The catcher and pitcher have an important relationship in baseball, and the relationship between Jack the star pitcher and the big, muscled catcher Seth is going to take an interesting and sexy turn! Jack is a team player, but he must go above and beyond when Seth wants to cash in on an unusual promise. Is Jack willing to do what it takes to please his catcher, including doing some “catching” of a different sort?

This gay erotica short story features baseball, hot man on man action and straight jocks going gay and loving it.

Str8 Till College: A Freshman Tradition

Here’s the entirety of Str8 Till College: A Freshman Tradition, a new story from the Str8 Till College series! It’s available as part of a great value megapack called The Gay College Stud Anthology!

Ethan nervously added his name to the slip of paper. He wasn’t sure he really wanted to, but he didn’t want to be the only one not doing it. He figured no one was likely to actually go through with it anyway.

There was a tradition here on the seventh floor of Mirtois Tower, a dormitory on the north side of the GHU campus in Lansing, Michigan. It was a rather unpleasant tradition in Ethan’s eyes, but he had agreed just the same so he wouldn’t be left out. He sighed as he put the slip of paper in the basket. His name sat there surrounded by the other freshmen on this floor.

Awright, loverboy! I hope I draw your ass!

Then he drew a name. He didn’t even look at it at first. It was too embarrassing. He just stuffed it in his pocket and beamed like everyone else, as though he had just won something.

Only when he scurried back to his dorm room did he peer at the piece of paper. It was Kurtis. Ethan blushed though no one was around to see it.

That slip of paper meant he was allowed to fuck Kurtis, one of his dormmates. The seventh floor of Mirtois Tower’s tradition was that, over the weekend before spring break, anyone who wanted to could put their name in a basket and pick a different name out. Whoever’s name you got, you were allowed to fuck, in the mouth or the ass — it had supposedly been tradition since the fifties.

It seemed silly to Ethan. He got horny sometimes, but he never really wanted to fuck a man no matter how horny he got. It just seemed gross, not a suitable substitute for an actual woman. He barely knew Kurtis, who had a girlfriend and had noisy sex with her on a seemingly nightly basis — it kept Ethan up sometimes — so he had no intention of going through with it.

He didn’t even know why he had written his name down, except that people had been making a big deal out of this tradition since September. He thought it was a joke at first, when the RA, Walter, mentioned it. But by the time spring break rolled around, he had realized that it was serious and that everybody in the dorm was going to do it. The only one who turned it down was Hector, a weird, nerdy devout Catholic and everyone knew he only said no because he was embarrassed of the tiny cock he had been trying to keep hidden all year.

The drawing of names was anticlimactic. After spending all week dreading this weekend, Ethan had his name — and someone had his name, though he tried not to think about that — and now it was just all over. He simply went back to his dorm and went to bed. Everyone else went out to one party or another, but Ethan was too shy and quiet to finagle an invitation.

He went to sleep. He couldn’t stop thinking about sex, but somehow he drifted off into a fitless sleep.

The door to his dorm slid open, and someone walked in. Ethan woke up suddenly, but he was confused at first. He didn’t realize what was happening.

“Yo, hey, hush up, relax,” came a familiar, deep voice.

“What? Who are you?”

“It’s Kurtis, man,” he said. Kurtis was a leanly muscled black man with a square jaw, a noble chin and a flat nose. He was an athlete and a starting player on the college basketball team, which was especially impressive since he was only a freshmen, and they rarely started on any team.

“Oh, hey.” Ethan was nervous. He knew he should have been angry with Kurtis for waltzing right into Ethan’s dormroom. He was nervous because Kurtis was the name on his slip of paper — Ethan had the “right” (or at least the traditional right) to demand a blowjob from Kurtis right now, or even anal sex. He had no intention of doing that, however.

“Yo, uh, so… You wanna fuck around on the downlow?” Kurtis asked. He grinned sheepishly in the dark.

“Uh… am I…?”

He held up his piece of paper. “Yeah. I got yo’ name, man,” he said.

Ethan chuckled nervously. “I got your name,” he said. He held up his own piece of paper.

“Well, shit, that’s convenient,” Kurtis said. He put his hands on his hips. He grabbed his dick through his basketball shorts. “You wanna like sixty-nine or somethin’?”

At the same moment he said that, Ethan said, “You wanna just not do it?” They both exchanged awkward glances at the realization that they were not on the same page. Kurtis clicked his tongue against his teeth.

“Come on, man, don’t be a squeamish prude,” he said.

“It’s kinda weird,” Ethan said. “Don’t pretend I’m strange cuz I don’t want to do it.”

“You didn’t have to do it! You didn’t have to write your name down! You could have just written down Mickey Mouse, and if you did, I’d be off in Disneyland getting laid right now!”

“I didn’t think anyone would take it seriously!” Ethan said, gulping nervously. He sat up in the dark. Now that he was thinking about Kurtis’ body, it loomed next to him. Kurtis wasn’t huge, but he seemed big in the dark.

“Come on, ain’t you horny?” Kurtis said. “I never see you with a girl.”

“I get horny sometimes, but I’m not a total hornball like you,” Ethan said.

“Hornball?”

“You’re fucking your girl every night!”

“That’s not a bad thing!” Kurtis scoffed. “And it ain’t true anyway! She dumped me last week.”

“Really?”

Kurtis nodded. “She left me for Greg Winthrop. You know him? He’s on the golf team. I lost a girl to some white guy who plays golf,” he said. “You know how embarrassing that is? I can’t show my face in the Black Students Union until I land some other white chick.” He laughed at himself.

“You know… you can be a real jerk sometimes. I’m not surprised she dumped you,” Ethan said.

“Oh come on, I’m sorry,” Kurtis said. “Just chill out. Don’t white guys ever fuck around on the downlow?”

“No!”

“Why not?”

“It’s… gross, or whatever-“

“It ain’t gross, and that’s homophobic of you,” Kurtis said. He beamed like he was proud to have said something politically correct for once. He placed one hand on Ethan’s shoulder. It rested there, heavy and foreboding. It was all Ethan could think about for a moment.

“I’m not a homophobe.”

“Then fuck me,” Kurtis said. “Come on… You’ll feel better when it’s done-“

“Fine! Just stop being a jerk,” Ethan said. He shook his head. “You’re a real asshole sometimes.”

“But not all the time? Thank you, you have a higher opinion of me than most of the freshmen in this dorm! You wanna sixty-nine?” He was already taking his clothes off. He was still fully dressed, in basketball shorts and a tight t-shirt that showed off his muscles, because he had gone out to a party, but Ethan was wearing nothing but boxer shorts. He felt self-conscious next to Kurtis, whose basketball-toned body gleamed in the dim light of the dorm room.

“Uh…”

“Come on, I’ll let you be on top,” he said. He laid on the narrow dorm bed, pushing Ethan over to make enough room.

That was the first time Ethan had been touched intimately by a man — Kurtis’ hands gripped his ass and shoved Ethan a few inches closer to the wall. That forced Ethan into a spooning position, his face wedged in next to Kurtis’ muscled shoulders.

“Okay, gimme your hand. I’ll walk you through this,” Kurtis said. “I ain’t know this was gonna be my role at college, tellin’ whiteboys how to fuck around on the downlow.” He laughed at himself as he guided Ethan’s hand over Kurtis’ body until it touched his spongy soft cock.

Ethan jerked and spasmed. He had never touched anyone’s dick besides his own. It was hot and throbbing in his hand. It felt huge, though he wasn’t sure it was actually bigger than his own, it just seemed strange to hold it in his hand.

He moved his hand, giving one awkward stroke. Kurtis laughed. “You gotta do better than that, man,” he said. “You would not last in my hood.”

“Is this part of growing up in the hood?”

Kurtis shrugged. “Basically, yeah,” he said. His own hand wrapped over Ethan’s dick. He laughed again, but more nervously this time. “Damn, whiteboy dicks feel weird.”

“Your dick feels weird.”

They both laughed together. Their cock were both completely soft. Ethan still didn’t know why anybody would do this willingly — who cared? It would have been more enjoyable to simply jack off.

“Alright, well, get on top of me,” Kurtis said. “Maybe we’ll be able to do it once we get started.”

Ethan grumbled as he crawled onto his hands and knees. He couldn’t believe he was really doing this. He just wanted to get it over with. His dick dangled as he straddled Kurtis’ head, hugging his ropy-muscled basketball-player body.

Kurtis’ dick lay in front of him like a dead animal. It smelled like soap and a little of sweat. Before Ethan could do anything, Kurtis swallowed his dick in one smooth motion, and Ethan let out a moan.

“Ah, shit…”

He had gotten blowjobs, but he had never felt anything like this. He threw his head back and had to suppress a scream. Kurtis’ mouth spread spit over Ethan’s shaft, which pulsated and throbbed like it was his first time getting hard.

Ethan slammed his head down because the pleasure was such a sudden shock and he couldn’t help it. But that placed his face and his mouth right next to Kurtis’ brown dick, which twitched. It was close enough that Ethan felt the heat radiating off it.

Kurtis grumbled — he was annoyed that Ethan wasn’t sucking him back just yet. His mouth was full, but he lightly slapped Ethan’s ass with one hand, while his other hand thwacked his dick over Ethan’s face.

Ethan opened his mouth and closed his eyes. It was already dark in the dorm room, so he didn’t really need to close his eyes, but he did it anyway. He let Kurtis’ cock slide into his mouth.

And, much to his surprise, it wasn’t unpleasant at all. He didn’t mind the taste, which was clean and a bit musky. He didn’t move at first, just letting it sit in his mouth.

Then his tongue moved as though of its own accord. It licked at Kurtis’ cockshaft, which twitched again.

And then, like a switch had been pressed, Ethan realized that they were sixty-nining. He was doing it. After all his anxiety over this tradition, here he was doing it, and it wasn’t really that bad.

“Aw….”

His dick pounded into full erection, and rather than resting in Kurtis’ mouth, Ethan found himself in constant motion. He humped his hips up and down, working his dick in so deep Kurtis’ throat squeezed around it as he choked. Ethan choked as well, on Kurtis’ own cock sliding into his gullet.

Surprised pleasure shot up Ethan’s spine. He had never felt anything quite like this, and he was shocked by how much he enjoyed himself. Kurtis’ cock tasted surprisingly similar to pussy, he thought. Maybe that was why he loved it.

Yo, nigga, wake up! Get the fuck up!

Was a fight about to break out? It sounded like there was someone angry out in the dorm, but not outside Ethan’s door.

Kurtis tapped on his ass until Ethan rolled over. Kurtis hopped to the door to Ethan’s dorm and peered through the peephole, angling his head the best he could to see down the hall. His dick stood out straight, its silhouette making it seem gargantuan in the shadowy dorm room.

Wake up, Kurtis! We gonna put yo’ money where yo’ mouth is!

Hey, baby!

Kurtis slid the door open just slightly, enough for his head to poke out. “Yo.” His deep voice echoed in the dorm hallway.

The guys at Kurtis’ own dorm-room door came down to Ethan’s. Ethan caught a glimpse of them — three young black men, in jerseys and sneakers, carrying a basketball as though they were on their way to a game, even though it was past midnight.

Hey, nigga, we gonna play. We gonna settle this, and we even got a reward for the winner.

Hell yeah!

Hey, baby…

That last voice was feminine, a low and sultry woman. Ethan couldn’t see her, but she sounded beautiful. He was still erect, so he still thought about sex, and when he heard her voice, his knees went weak. He clutched at Kurtis’ muscled chest for support, and his hard cock pressed into Kurtis’ thigh. That was what he needed to get excited about this, a girl. Already Ethan was imagining her naked body, despite the fact that he hadn’t even seen her with clothes on yet.

Kurtis apparently didn’t notice Ethan’s dick touching his leg, or Ethan’s hands now resting on his muscled back. “Not interested, nigga,” he said.

Yo, what?! After all that trash-talkin’ you was doing?

We ain’t even tell him what the prize is.

Oh, yeah, you get to fuck this bitch.

The girl giggled then, and she murmured something Ethan didn’t catch. Ethan’s heart skipped a beat at the thought of fucking her — he couldn’t see her, so in his mind, she was the most beautiful woman he could imagine.

“What?”

Man, whatchoo doin’ in here anyway? Who’s room is this?

“I, uh… I’m fuckin’ a female, man. We havin’ a little threeway in here.”

This is a men’s dorm. You havin’ a threeway wit’ another nigga?

“Ain’t another nigga, man. Just get out,” Kurtis said. He started to shut the door, but the other men grunted and mean-mugged at him. He stopped. They glared at each other, and the girl pouted by herself.

Ethan was close enough he could feel Kurtis’ muscles tighten as a fight almost broke out. Kurtis was stark-naked, his big brown cock throbbing, a few drops of precum still clinging to his shaft.

Finally Kurtis just shut the door as he mumbled, “Go fuck yo’selves, niggas.” He made sure to lock it, then watched through the doorway as they walked away. The sound of that basketball dribbling on the floor was impossibly loud, booming like a freight train. It stopped only when they reached the elevator.

“Alright, let’s do this,” Kurtis said. “Let’s trade anal, man. I just gave up a girl to finish this-“

“Yeah, why’d you do that?”

“Cuz I ain’t wanna walk outta there from here, they’d have found out what we was doing.“

“You said it was normal ‘in the hood’. You said it was okay-“

“Yeah, it’s normal to do it and never admit it. That’s how it works,” Kurtis said. “You gonna do this or not?”

Ethan sighed. He would have thought he’d never in a million years agree to trade anal sex — that just seemed like a step too far. But he couldn’t help but think that since the blowjob had turned out to be much better than he expected, maybe he’d enjoy anal sex after all as well.

“Reacharound rules?” He asked.

“Uh… what?”

“Do you want to do reacharound rules?” He sighed dramatically, erect cock twitching, as though everybody knew what this was. “It just means that we play Paper-Rock-Scissors to see who gets to fuck first. When you fuck, you gotta give a reacharound. If the guy you’re fucking blows his load before you’re done, you don’t gotta give up the booty.”

“Oh. I guess that’s fair.”

“Course it’s fair,” he said. “If I go first, my dick is gonna make you feel so good. I got a magic dick, man. Ask any girl I been with.” He licked his lips and grinned like a cocky jerk. Ethan was flush with self-pity — he had never felt confident he was good in bed.

“Sure…”

Then they played Paper-Rock-Scissors. Ethan, as he always did, picked Rock. When he saw that Kurtis had picked Paper, he wanted to cry.

But at the same time, he didn’t, because a part of Ethan did want to find out what it was like to get fucked. He had enjoyed sucking dick, after all, so he hoped he would enjoy being fucked just the same.

“Hell, yeah!” Kurtis exclaimed. “Fuck! Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle. I got lube.” He withdrew a tube of lubricant from his jeans that were crumpled on the floor. He squeezed some onto his cock and lightly slapped Ethan on the ass. “I been lookin’ at that ass since September, man.”

“Really? That’s fuckin’ nasty-“

“Well, ain’t my fault whiteboys is too stupid to fuck around on the downlow. Ass is ass. Ain’t no difference between a male ass and a female ass, ‘cept males don’t got tits or a pussy on the other side. Females are more difficult too,” he said with a laugh. “They don’t ever wanna have sex just cuz they’re horny. You gotta convince ‘em.” He wedged his dick between Ethan’s cheeks.

Ethan took a deep breath and bent over. He was excited about this but tried to hide it, both because he didn’t want to look gay and because it seemed Kurtis expected it. Kurtis clucked his tongue against his teeth supportively and he patted Ethan’s asscheeks.

“You seriously got a nice ass, man,” Kurtis said. “Nice and smooth. Plump. Fuckin’ hot. If you was my cellmate, I’d eat yo’ ass with a spoon.”

Before Ethan could say anything back, he felt a surge of agony like he was being torn apart. That lasted for only a half a second though, and then the lube made it easier for Kurtis’ dick to slip through.

It was awkward and alien at first, like he was being invaded, but the longer it went on, the calmer Ethan got. His ass relaxed, and soon waves of pleasure emanated from his prostate.

“Yeah, I feel ya twitchin’,” Kurtis said. He smiled like a cocky bastard. “See? I told you, I gots a magic dick. That’s why the females love me.” He groaned as one of his hands reached around Ethan’s body and wrapped over his dick. “I don’t like this part. I mean… Yo’ dick ain’t bad, but…”

“Can you stop talking?” Ethan said through gritted teeth. It felt good but the pressure was still intense and overwhelming.

It continued that way as Kurtis began to hump his dick back and forth. It hurt every few seconds, but Ethan was more focused on the pangs of pleasure running up his spine. They were few and far between compared to the shivers of pain, but they were still there, and they were stronger, more important, and just plain bigger in Ethan’s mind.

The more he got fucked, the more he liked it. His prostate tingled with every thrust of Kurtis’ dick into it — Ethan had to admit it did feel magical. It felt like a magic wand ramming into him, spraying awe-striking bliss throughout this body.

His muscles tensed, and his fingers tightened into claws. He was bent over his own bunk, so his fingernails clawed at his mattress, pulling on the sheets and blankets and knocking the pillows onto the floor.

“Yeah, man, take that shit, damn… Yo’ ass don’t quit!”

Kurtis’ basketball-toned body writhed behind Ethan’s back, his muscles tensing and flexing as he fucked. His dick fit perfectly inside him as though it had been constructed just to tease Ethan’s prostate, which it did each time it thrust into his ass.

Finally Ethan felt an orgasm overwhelm him. It was so intense he didn’t even realize at first that he was cumming first — that meant Kurtis had “won” and Ethan wouldn’t get to be on top next. That wasn’t disappointing though, even if a part of Ethan thought it should be.

Cum sprayed over his bunk and onto Kurtis’ fingers. It was a thick and copious load, with a strong smell that filled up the dorm room with its billowing, cottony scent.

“Hell yeah, told ya!” Kurtis said with a long, low grunt. He yelped right into Ethan’s ear, making Ethan shudder and clench onto the cock in his ass as his orgasm finally dwindled. Aftershocks continued with each wave of sensation deep inside him, and his cock throbbed beneath Kurtis’ fingers. Kurtis grunted. “Here I go, man…”

Cum coated his insides, great gobs of it spreading within him. It felt like a bigger load than his own, but Ethan wasn’t sure if that was real or an illusion. He moaned, and Kurtis groaned, gripping Ethan’s back firmly as pleasure rolled over his tight, toned muscles.

It washed over his insides. Ethan had to bite his lip to stifle a moan, which he thought would be audible next-door. He writhed beneath Kurtis’ body as his ass filled up with wad after wad of creamy-white cum.

Finally Kurtis was done. He didn’t pull out right away though. He paused and remained in position, resting while his cock throbbed in Ethan’s ass like it meant to stay there all night. Cum trickled throughout Ethan’s body, and it dripped out and down his thighs.

Only when Ethan thought he couldn’t handle the intensity anymore did Kurtis pull out. They both sighed, and Ethan collapsed onto his bunk on his belly.

“Hey, thanks,” Kurtis said. He stood up. He nervously bit his lip. “Hey, uh, if anyone asks… especially if any black folk ask, you, uh, you tell them that we was in here having a threesome, okay? Some girl who don’t go to school here. Say you don’t wanna tell who cuz she’s a local.”

“Oh. Okay.” Ethan was breathless.

“I’ll back you up,” Kurtis said. He paused and put his clothes on. “Thanks again.”

“Yeah, sure. Thank you,” Ethan said though he wasn’t quite sure what he was thanking Kurtis for. He breathed a sigh of relief when Kurtis finally walked out and the door swung shut behind him.

Ethan was glad that it was over, but even more than that, he was glad he had done it in the first place.

Thug Hazing at the City Barbershop

Here’s the first chapter of Thug Hazing at the City Barbershop, a new story from the City Barbershop! It’s full of hardcore gay action on the downlow, str8 trade and alpha worship!

When the Indianapolis PD released its new policy on undercover officers, Chris didn’t think much of it. He thought it sounded silly — lying to women to get them in the sack wasn’t illegal, even if it was immoral.

But it turned out that there was an upside for Chris. The police department had been sued because an officer was undercover and impregnated a woman who thought she was dating a gangbanger. The city was on the hook for damages, and the police union even got the city to agree to pay for child support for the remainder of the child’s life.

So the police were no longer allowed to have sex when they were undercover. That meant that having sex was soon a part of initiation into every street gang in Indianapolis — since that was the only thing a cop couldn’t do, it was the only thing a thug could do to prove he wasn’t a cop.

And that’s where it became important to Chris. He was a barber at the City Barbershop, a chain of establishments where black men could go for haircuts, brotherhood and — when Chris was feeling up-to-it, which was almost always — a blowjob on the downlow. What happened there, stayed there, so everyone felt comfortable getting their needs serviced by sexy little twinks like Chris.

He was working there when the local Nine Tats brought in their newest initiate — Tummer. Tummer was a tall, broad-shouldered thug with cornrows and a handsome face. He was mixed-race, half-black and half-Puerto Rican.

Tummer was visibly nervous, but the other thugs who escorted him there were jibbering excitedly, each of them talking so fast over each other that Chris had no idea what was going on.

“Yo, we brought this nigga-“

“Here it is-“

-Can’t be a cop, they ain’t allowed-“

“Suck him off-“

Chris held up one hand for silence, and they all fell quiet. He enjoyed the power he had here in the City Barbershop. Out there, in the ghettos and streets of Indianapolis, he was just a shy, weak little black queer. In here, he was king. He was the best barber, the one the high-class dealers and pimps went to. He brought in the most foot traffic and he was the unofficial mascot for the shop, so when he held up his hand for silence, the other barbers shushed everyone who didn’t quiet down right away.

“Okay, you can’t all talk at once,” Chris said. He pointed to Tummer. “You tell me. What is this?”

Tummer cleared his throat and sighed. “Aw, man, do I gotta say it? Okay, well, uh… these niggas is, uh… they tellin’ me I gotta do this. I gots females, just so you know. I got these three girls I fuck wit’ right now, and one of ‘em is-“

“Hey, do I look like I wanna hear about girls?” Chris said. “Get to the part that concerns me.”

“I’m, uh… Well, I can’t say ‘bout the main part. But you know how them po-po ain’t allowed to, y’know, fuck when they undercover no more. On account of that one cop made that girl pregnant?”

“Yeah.”

“Well… So, I wanna join, or, uh… I gotta prove to these niggas I ain’t a cop,” Tummer said.

“Isn’t it obvious? They don’t let retards become cops,” Chris said with a laugh. The other thugs laughed along with him, and Tummer frowned.

“Uh.. So… I want a blowjob,” Tummer said. “I mean… I don’t really want one, but… y’know.”

Chris made an overly exaggerated thoughtful face, as though there was a real chance he would say no — Tummer was ungodly sexy, so Chris was already picturing his cock in his throat. “Lemme see your chest.”

Tummer exchanged nervous glances with the other thugs, then took off his shirt. He had a powerful, light brown chest with a flat belly, a few tattoos covering his arm and his ribcage on the left side. He sneered at Chris as though he didn’t like having a gay man check him out.

“Biceps?”

Tummer sighed and pumped his biceps. Chris kissed each one, and the other thugs oohed and aahed as though Tummer should be embarrassed by that. He makin’ out wit’ yo’ arm now, Tummer! Chris’ tongue traced the bulge of his upper arm. It tasted salty and clean and it made Chris’ dick get hard in his pants.

“Pull your cock out. Is it big?”

Tummer forced on a cocky grin, but Chris could see that he was horrified at the thought of pulling his meat out in front of all his niggas. Tummer stuck his hand in his pants first, to give himself a stroke, no doubt making sure his manhood wasn’t in a shrunken mood — it was rather cold in the barbershop right now, after all.

Then he pulled it out. It was plenty big, thick and juicy. Chris’ mouth watered at the sight, but he played it off like it was merely satisfactory. He hefted it in one hand as though he needed to examine its dimensions.

He nodded. “That’s acceptable. Go into the backroom. Keep your shirt off,” Chris said as Tummer started to put it back on. He scowled but did as he was told. Once the door to the backroom shut, Chris smiled at the other thugs. “I just wanna make him wait a couple minutes.”

They laughed, and Chris waited there by his barber’s chair for a full five minutes. He could tell that Tummer was annoyed and impatient in the back when Chris opened the door and strode back there.

He was nonchalantly standing next to some shelves, his chest still bare and his fat, limp cock dangling between his legs. He scowled at Chris.

“Do you swallow?”

Chris nodded. “I insist on it,” he said as he dropped to his knees.

Chris had always liked rough trade, so he attacked Tummer’s cock with abandon. He licked the shaft from tip to root, and smiled as Tummer grunted like he was surprised at how easy this was to endure, as though he thought it was going to hurt.

His dick remained limp at first, and Chris wondered if he would be unable to get hard. Chris had never before met a straight man who didn’t get hard when his cock was in Chris’ mouth, but there was always a first time for everything.

After a minute or two of sucking on that limp shaft, it finally perked up. Chris suckled moistly on the tip, letting his saliva coat the entire cock, and it grew harder and harder.

Soon Chris was using both hands to stroke that massive cock. He was glad he had done this — Tummer’s dick had seemed fine when it was limp, and he was nervous out in the front room, but now he had shown what a huge cock he really had. It was thick and veiny it tasted so sweet Chris slathered spit all over it. He sucked on it like a lollipop, and grinned at Tummer’s shocked reaction.

“Damn, nigga, you suck good,” Tummer said with a chuckle. “I’m-a cum now.”

He grabbed Chris by the ears and held on tight. He started to grind his hips against Chris’ face, shoving his dick down deep as it throbbed and pulsated in Chris’ throat.

He groaned and grunted, and spewed cum right in Chris’ mouth and on his tongue. It was a thick, dense load, creamy and milky. It tasted as sweet as his cock did, and Chris greedily guzzled it all down.

He smacked his lips and showed off his empty mouth. Tummer was shocked, like he hadn’t expected that to actually feel good. He leaned against the shelves behind himself.

Chris giggled at the look on Tummer’s face, and he withdrew a wetnap. He wiped his face off, then Tummer’s cock. The cold of the wetnap snapped Tummer out of his daze.

He frowned at Chris. “That was fine,” he said. “Good. Okay.”

“You can admit you enjoyed it.”

“I like females, gayboy,” he said. He paused as he tucked his dick away. “But yeah. Sorry. I did like that, uh… you suck dick good.” He sauntered towards the door, awkwardly ignoring Chris.

“Thanks, love you too!” Chris called out while the door to the frontroom was open. Tummer’s niggas all laughed and Tummer sighed, trying to explain that he hadn’t told Chris he loved him. Chris just stayed in the back and savored the flavor of semen until all those thugs went away.

Then he returned to his barber’s chair and resumed his day. If the Nine Tats continue to send him new thugs, he thought, he was going to enjoy this new police policy very much indeed.

Teabag Hazing Downlow

Here’s the first chapter from Teabag Hazing Downlow, a new story in the Str8 Studs Downlow series!

Todd gulped nervously. He had planned on skipping the fraternities. He didn’t think it was worth the hazing and the risk, but once he got to GHU of Georgia, he found that, without a frat, he’d have no social life. So there was no choice. The only fraternity he thought was likely to take him — since he was neither rich nor handsome nor popular nor athletic — was Kappa Gamma Pi.

“Three times, pledges, let’s see hear the oath three times!”

I pledge my eternal loyalty to this fraternal organization, and to these men who support me in my endeavors and my growth as a man. I promise to uphold the laws and traditions of Kappa Gamma Pi, and I promise not to tolerate those who fail at living up to this organization’s strict standards of honor, decency and respect. I promise to be obedient to those who are above me in this organization’s hierarchy, and to follow their orders without question.

He had learned the oath just earlier today, but had already recited it so many times he had it memorized. He repeated it again, twice more. There was no way the upperclassmen heard him say it three times, but Todd did it anyway, not wanting to get in trouble like the others who stumbled over the words or failed to remember them.

But once they finished it, Willie Mitchum — Todd’s personal upperclass sponsor and the pledgemaster for the whole organization — just told them to do it all over again. Three more recitals, freshies! He had the attitude of a Southern drill sergeant, and if it weren’t vital for Todd’s social life to join this frat, Todd would have pointed out that he wasn’t one. But Willie would have called that “freshie gettin’ lippy”, which he did not tolerate.

“Alright, freshies, we’ll see how well you have this memorized. Keep on repeating it,” said Willie, who was a senior and a hardcore redneck — so Southern he literally had perpetually-sunburnt shoulders — as he pointed to the floor. He had a sick smile on his face. “Get on the ground, on your backs. Don’t stop pledging, pledges.”

To the floor, bitches!

The other upperclassmen were huddled together, drinking, laughing. They loved how extreme Willie took the hazing, though it was clear many of them didn’t think that was quite necessary. Nobody stopped Willie.

Kick their asses, Willie!

Todd sunk to the ground, squeezing into the small floorspace in the center of the den. The floor was cold hardwood, badly scuffed and stained. It smelled of feet. Todd had heard rumors about Kappa’s hazing, so his mind raced with all the terrible things they might ask him to do. They might even make him take off all his clothes and run through campus, or make him go out on a date with a drag queen, both rumors that Todd had heard were required in years past.

“I pledge my eternal loyalty to this fraternal -“ Todd began reciting the pledge with the other recruits. He could see Willie whispering with the other seniors, but not hear what they were saying. It looked like the others did not believe Willie would follow through on whatever he was planning on doing.

Willie was tall and athletic, though he didn’t play any sports as far as Todd knew. He didn’t quite have a six-pack either, he drank too much beer for that, but he came close. He wore, as always, a dingy brown baseball cap, and his tattooed arms extended from a sleeveless muscle shirt. His camo pants were loose and baggy.

He walked over to the pledges and stopped with his bare feet right next to Todd. “Keep on pledging, freshies. Let’s hear it, come on…”

Todd paused when he saw one of the other seniors, Brian, a beefy football player, dropping his pants. He had a huge dick so he always found an excuse to show it off, but once he was naked, he lowered his hips, squatting on the face of another freshman. He aimed his balls right for the freshman’s mouth, shouting, “Teabag time!” and laughing like a caveman.

A sense of horror erupted within Todd — was it possible that Willie was going to take this even farther? Maybe the rumors had understated how difficult Kappa Gamma Pi’s hazing was. Brian’s big linebacker body bristled as he tried to get his sac in the other freshman’s mouth.

Get that freshie, Brian! Teabag the fuck out of him!

Earl Grey that bitch! They all cackled as though it was hilarious — they had been joking about putting their balls in and on each other, so Todd wondered if that was what was hip right now: ball-sucking. It seemed gross and pointless to him.

The other freshman, George, rolled away from Brian’s balls. He stood and cursed the seniors. “I’m out,” he said. “That’s fucking gross you guys.” He grabbed his jacket and walked out the door to the catcalls of the other seniors. They called him a wuss and a loser, and said he’d never get invited to a party on-campus again.

Todd knew what was about to happen to him, obviously, so he had to consider whether to leave or not. But ultimately it was no tough decision for him — he needed to have a social life this year, and Kappa Gamma Pi was his ticket in.

Willie dropped his shorts and leered at Todd. “Didya stop saying the pledge, freshie?” He had to raise his voice to be heard over the other seniors baring their own sweaty ballsacs. Willie’s redneck body was especially disgusting to Todd, however, who wished that he had any of the other seniors instead of Willie.

Todd had no sooner begun the pledge again when Willie pulled off his boxers as well, revealing his low-hanging balls and thick cock. Todd struggled to focus, but managed to speak the pledge once more with Willie’s dick swaying in front of his face. He caught a whiff of that redneck crotch, which made Todd wrinkle his nose as he struggled to recall the words of the pledge.

“I pledge my eternal loyalty to this fraternal organization-“

Then he plopped those balls right on Todd’s face, and Todd choked on the scent. Direct hit on the freshie! The slickness of sweat and the smell of taint assaulted Todd’s senses; he gagged and sputtered. Willie’s crotch smelled like stale sweat, and the coarse pubic hairs of his scrotum got stuck between Todd’s teeth.

Tea bag! Tea bag! Tea bag!

Sweat dripped down Todd’s throat. He could feel it running in rivulets, and the scent made his eyes water. He blushed intensely as he saw Willie looking him in the eyes, with that stern Southern drill sergeant look on his face.

“Keep on reciting, freshie! Don’t stop or I’ll make you suck on the other end next!”

Even as Todd’s throat heaved and he wasn’t sure he could keep going, he did. He got a few more syllables out before he gagged, nearly vomiting over the ballsac in his throat. All around him was gagging freshman, who watched in shock as Willie dipped his balls in and out of Todd’s spasming throat.

Damn, Willie’s goin’ all the way with his freshman! He’s hardcore as hell! He gettin’ a handjob!

That is too fuckin’ gay! You ain’t gonna try to jack me off, is you freshie?

Willie took hold of Todd’s hand in his and lifted it slowly up as the other fraternity brothers shouted and chanted. None of them could believe Willie was taking it this far, and not even Todd could really believe it. His face blushed a bright red as pubic hair tickled the back of his throat.

Jack that redneck off, freshie!

“Who you callin’ a redneck, ya yankee bastard?!”

When his hand wrapped around Willie’s cock, Todd thought he should really back out. He could just walk out the door. The worst that could happen to him for quitting was that he’d get called names, maybe not invited to a party or two (and not even the big, major parties, since they were always open to everyone). But he had already come this far, and Todd desperately wanted to be in a frat this year.

“Stroke it, freshie, don’t just play with it.”

Willie’s dick was clammy and limp at first, but it quickly hardened beneath Todd’s grasp. It was thick and greasy, and it made Todd want to vomit. At least, he thought, he wasn’t actually sucking dick.

But it didn’t feel all that different, he decided as precum dripped down that shaft and into his throat. He might as well be sucking on it. His hands were sticky with fluids, his face covered in ball-sweat. Each time he saw a droplet of moisture roll down that throbbing, veiny shaft, Todd thought he wouldn’t really taste it, his mouth was already overwhelmed by salty bitterness. However each time a drop actually rolled past his lips, Todd gagged on the explosion of sour flavor in his mouth all over again.

Then when the end finally came, Todd ended up sucking dick anyway. Without giving it a second thought, he kept his mouth open when Willie suddenly pulled his balls out and pushed his spasming cockhead in.

Hot damn, Willie is fuckin’ hardcore!

Fuck that freshie’s mouth, ya nasty hillbilly!

Hot cum spurted into Todd’s mouth. He gagged furiously and sputtered some more, but that succeeded only in spreading cum all over his face and chin. Willie’s ropy-muscled redneck body writhed as he orgasm and his face screwed up with pleasure.

It seemed like a preposterously huge load, like he was really pissing right down Todd’s throat. But the thick creaminess and salty flavor made it clear he simply had a big wad brewing in those balls, which now dripped with Todd’s spit as they bounced against his chin.

“Swallow that nut, freshie!” Willie cheered himself on as he moaned and flexed his big redneck pecs. He pumped his biceps too, and slammed his cummy dick so far into Todd’s throat he gagged all over again.

At last Willie pulled out and rested his fat cock on Todd’s face. He leered down at him and said, “That was some good respect, freshie. I’ll make a man out of you yet, my brother…”

Redneck Baseball Jock Hazing

Here’s a sample from Redneck Baseball Jock Hazing, a new story from the All-Strong League! It’s full of redneck circlejerks and reluctant hazing blowjobs!

 

Josh was glad they had won the game. He was on the Bumcraw Bucks, an amateur baseball team whose players were mostly the men he worked with at the factory. He hadn’t felt like he was bonding well with them at work, so when they invited him onto the team and treated him like any other player, he felt much better about his new life in the South.

They filed into the dugout after the game. It was a hot Texas day, and Josh was dripping with sweat. The other guys were sweaty too, and the smell inside the dugout was incredible, spicy and musky, overpoweringly strong. Josh wondered if there was a shower available for them somewhere — this was an amateur league, so most of the fields had no locker room. This dugout had neither running water nor electricity — it was really just a paved ditch with a roof.

He heard murmuring about a circle, but Josh didn’t know what that meant. He saw that they were checking the tiny bleachers to wait for everyone to file out into the parking lot, and a few guys were taking their shirts off. Josh did likewise, though he was nervous about being naked in front of so many strangers, and with so many more strangers right outside the dugout. He felt very vulnerable and exposed.

Yee-haw, fuck yah! My gurl say she gon’ lemme do her in the ass if we won today! Gonna rek that!

Willie and Forrest were the first to touch cocks. They were both outfielders, and powerful hitters, among the best on the team, and they both had thick biceps to match. Forrest grabbed Willie’s at the same time as Willie grabbed Rick’s, the man to his left. Josh gasped and wanted to call them gay, to bring attention to it, but didn’t when he saw that nobody else seemed bothered by it.

As a matter of fact, not only was no one upset, Josh noticed, they weren’t surprised either. It looked like a circlejerk was how they traditionally ended a game, and they were all getting in position for it.

“You gon’ join in?” Willie asked. He let go of Rick’s cock, then lightly tapped Josh on the cheek, a gentle slap that resulted in Rick’s cocksweat being smeared over Josh’s face. The team laughed and someone clapped Josh on the back.

Blushing a brilliant scarlet, Josh frowned at the acrid sweat on his face. He really wanted a shower, but he didn’t want to refuse to participate in a team activity. It looked like the only person who didn’t join in the circlejerk was Lyle, the born-again preacher, who frowned, muttered and walked out of the dugout so quickly he was still pulling his shirt over his head as he left.

A part of Josh wanted desperately to follow him, but he decided to stay. It wouldn’t be his first circlejerk, after all — he had played baseball in high school, and his team did the same thing at a late night party — and it might help him make friends among his teammates and coworkers.

“Yeah, I’ll join in…” Josh said with a sigh to signify that he really didn’t want to, but he was going along with the others.

He ended up in between Willie and Forrest, with Josh’s hands wrapping around Willie’s thick cock, while Forrest’s sausage-like fingers gripped Josh’s cock tight. Josh had not often had a man touch him like this, so he was momentarily terrified, as though Forrest — a giant beast of a Texan, with the perfectly curvy body of a man whose strength came from work and toil, not gyms and exercise — was going to rape him. But of course Forrest just growled with disgust when he touched Josh’s cock, and began stroking it to erection.

“Hey Forrest, you sure your sister ain’t around no mo’?” Willie asked with a blush. The other players all burst into laughter like this was an inside joke — Josh got the impression that Forrest’s sister had, in fact, volunteered to suck every dick on the team, or at least a rumor had appeared suggesting she wanted to. In any case, Forrest — who was by far the biggest man there — grunted, leaned over Josh’s body and punched Willie right in the arm. It was a quick donkey-punch, but Forrest was so big it must have hurt, Josh thought.

“What the fuck, man? I was just kiddin’!”

Willie jumped, yelped and stepped out of the circle. He faced Forrest, looking up at the man who was at least a whole foot taller than him. If they had been equal sizes, Willie probably would have fought for real, but instead he just glared at Forrest until a few other players got between them.

“Come on, Willie, back off…” another player, Rick, whispered. He wrapped his arms around Willie’s muscular body and held him loosely as he dragged Willie back. Rick’s semi-erect cock pressed against Willie’s backside, and Josh watched with a sense of horror — his old teammates would have freaked out from that kind of cock-to-ass contact, but it seemed that the local Texans were more comfortable with genital touching.

No fightin’, Forrest! You know we’s gonna get in trubs with the league if you do it again!

If we gotta forfeit next game, mothahfukka…!

Then that was it, and the “fight”, such was it was, was over. Josh’s erection had deflated, but he noticed Willie’s had not; his dick stuck straight out from his light-colored bush. His dick looked impossibly huge simply because Willie was so short, it was big in comparison.

Despite realizing that the size difference was all relative, Josh was self-conscious. Willie’s dick looked big because his body was small. Josh had a big dick, but it looked small in Forrest’s huge hand.

“You shouldn’t-a stood across the way from me, new guy,” said Charlie, a burly redhead with a shaved head and a body like a porcelain bull. He jabbed his thick cock towards Josh, who was indeed right across the circle from Charlie. Charlie grinned. “I shoot ‘em big, and I shoot ‘em long, Joshie. So you might have to dodge.”

Josh blushed. He tried to come up with a smart-aleck remark, but he couldn’t think of one in time, before the team erupted in laughter and shared memories. They often attempted to aim each other’s dick at each other, and they each bragged about being uniquely good at shooting long distances.

Gonna git ya!

Gonna paint yer thighs white, boi!

Hombres Downlow

Here’s a sample from Hombres Downlow, a new hardcore tale from The Str8trix!

 

Rico was excited. He had been in Cartel Noveno for years, but only as a small-time drug dealer, floating around the edges of the gang’s activities. He had been trying to push into the center of the action for some time, and all those efforts had finally amounted to something.

He was only there for the numbers, but it was something. One of the older and more experienced cholos were going to collect money from a lendee. This was Rico’s chance to shine. He was accompanying Pablo Aleador, a top cholo, who went by Matarratas (rat poison).

It was frustrating that Rico couldn’t express how excited and proud he was of this moment. He would look like a queer or maybe even an undercover cop if he revealed how exhilarated he was. He felt like calling his mom to brag (she would hate it though; she had never liked him working for a cartel). There was a bounce in his step as he followed Matarratas to the other side of San Diego.

It was a Puerto Rican restaurant. That must have been why they chose him, Rico thought, as most of the Cartel was Mexican or Central American. Rico was Puerto Rico-born and raised. He decided to try to accentuate his puertorriqueño accent to draw attention to it.

The owner was a slim young businessman named Jorge, with a pronounced lilt to his steps and his voice. Was he gay? Rico thought it was possible from the moment he first laid eyes on him. He had a little shake to his plump ass, which Rico found suggestive. Though not homophobic, Rico had never liked gays before.

Jorge winced when he saw the cholos approaching him. It was obvious he didn’t have the money to pay, but Rico followed along with Matarratas, who was in charge. He demanded a payment and, when Jorge demurred, Matarratas slapped him.

“You have already delayed once,” Matarratas said. His tattooed face twitched with anger. He growled. “No more.”

“Please, sir… I can make a partial payment,” he said and handed over a few tattered bills. There was clearly more money in his pocket, Rico caught a glimpse of it.

“What is that?” Matarratas asked. He shoved his hand down Jorge’s pocket, and pulled out two hundred dollars in fifties. He smiled at Jorge.

“Please, don’t take that! I… need that, I have to pay rent on this building,” Jorge said.

Matarratas sighed. “We don’t wish to make you homeless. You would never be able to make another payment.”

“Please… Business is picking up. I can do whatever you want…” Jorge said. He spoke slowly, seductively, and he hesitated as he grabbed for Matarratas’ cock through his jeans.

Matarratas slapped his hand away. “I do not do faggot shit,” Matarratas said with a sneer. Then he looked at Rico and nodded. “Drop your pants, Rico.”

Rico paused. He had no idea shaking someone down for money might turn into something gay — he had prepared himself for violence, not a blowjob.

“Rico?”

“I, uh…”

“What? You do not have girlfriend, right?”

“No, I-“

“I have a wife. She would not allow me to receive blowjob,” Matarratas said. “So it has to be you. ¡Sé un hombre! You will be en la cima, it is okay.”

Rico sighed. His heart pounded as he wondered if he’d be able to get hard. He’d be humiliated if his cock remained limp in front of Matarratas. Cartel Noveno placed a great deal of importance on machismo, so if Rico couldn’t live up to expectations, he might not be allowed to move any farther in the organization.

Hardcore Footy Hazing

Here’s a new sample from Hardcore Footy Hazing, an extreme teabagging and sport initiation tale! For those of you who are from the land up-over, “footy” is “Australian-rules football” — I’m not really a sports-guy, so I can’t tell you much about it athletics-wise… but the men are hot as hell!

 

The game was over, and Damian’s heart sank in his chest. They had lost. The Balamuba Wombats had lost their first game this year, after an eleven-game winning streak. They filed off the field, Damian trying hard to ignore the hateful stares of his teammates and the gloating boasts of the other team.

They were all focused on Damian because this loss was his fault, and everyone knew it. Damian couldn’t pretend it wasn’t. He had a wide open pass that he failed to complete, or even really throw — the ball had simply fallen from his hands like a greased-up watermelon.

It was too late to worry about now. Way to choke, mate! Damian wanted to hurry up and get out of here. He knew the way Coach Marlow operated — today, the team could tease Damian, could punish him through hazing, and Coach Marlow would back them up.

But at practice on Monday, nobody would be allowed to bring it up. Coach Marlow would punish anyone who held a grudge. He was a firm believer that punishment should be quick and severe, but it should be over when it was complete.

So Damian just needed to get showered, changed and out the door, then he wouldn’t have to think about this terrible error ever again. He wouldn’t have to feel like he had let down his entire family. It felt like he was a little boy again, in trouble for having “disappointed” his mother by acting up at school.

Coach Marlow was waiting there in the locker room when the team poured in, hot and sweaty and stripping off their kits as they entered. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Damian.

“Coach-!”

“Hush your mouth, mate,” Coach Marlow said. “I’m disappointed in you, Damian. You have shown such promise in practice, and then you go and choke out there on the field.”

Speaking of choke…

Coach Marlow held his hand up for silence. “Yes, yes, we’ll get to that. I can see you are all horny as, but lemme first go over that play again.”

The team groaned as Coach Marlow launched into a description of strategy. This was an obvious time-wasting way to get the team even angrier at Damian — his error hadn’t involved a lack of strategy or a failure to follow a plan. He had simply, both literally and figuratively, dropped the ball. Aside from making Damian’s fingers grippier, there was nothing Coach Marlow could do to prevent the same problem from recurring in the future.

The locker room was too small for this team. Damian felt more cramped than he ever had in there before, because he could feel his teammates glaring at him. He could feel one person in particular, Wayne, brimming with hatred.

Wayne was probably the best player here. He could go pro, probably, and he never made a mistake, so every time someone else did, Wayne freaked out as though it was unprecedented in human history. Now he studiously avoided looking at Damian, while his meaty jockstrap-clad thighs pressed against Damian’s body.

Soon enough Coach Marlow was done. He looked right at Damian and said, “I’m sure you all will express your displeasure appropriately. I’ll see you at practice on Monday, when I expect us all to have forgotten about this… little incident.” Then he turned around and went into his office.

The Workcamp Hairback Jerk in a Circle

Here’s a sample from the beginning of The Workcamp Hairback Jerk in a Circle, a hot new story that you can read in KU or buy for a great value price in the three-story bundle, The Reddest Necks, Vol. 15!

When his first day on the job came to a close, Gareth was glad it was finally done. He was absolutely exhausted, and it felt like his shoulders were going to fall off. He didn’t know how the other workers managed to keep going all day — he felt like this even with a couple extra minutes off here and there while he waited for someone to tell him what to do. Once he got into the swing of things, he wasn’t going to have more than a few seconds to himself during the day.

The worksite was a small collection of tents in a large clearing. Gareth and a bevy of men were here to build a more permanent work-camp, with buildings and plumbing and electricity. A mining company was about to begin digging in this area and needed accomodations for workers. Since they were about four hours drive from the nearest town (Bumcraw, Alabama), Gareth and the other workers were going to have to camp for the entire time.

The pay was pretty good, so Gareth couldn’t complain. He wasn’t that experienced, and it was only through pure luck that he even got this job — since they didn’t want to hire more people than necessary, they largely only hired workers who were proficient in at least one technical area like plumbing or electrical work while still being knowledgeable enough to help out in other areas. Gareth had a little experience with all of the relevant areas of building, but he wasn’t an expert in anything. That meant he was destined to remain the lowest man on every single totem pole here.

His muscles burned as he followed the guys to the sleeping tent. It was the largest Gareth had ever seen, with plenty of room for all the workers — it could have accomodated twice as many people — but it was still just a tent. There were six bunks lining one wall, and Gareth sat down, sighing as his weary muscles relaxed for the first time all day.

The other workers began to take their clothes off. There was a shower tent nearby, Gareth didn’t yet know what sort of facilities would be in there, but he had a feeling they would be primitive. He also assumed it was some sort of group shower situation. He didn’t much like that, but he had had plenty of jobs that required a group shower afterward. It wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

As his workmates undressed, Gareth noticed how hairy they were. Maybe that meant he’d fit in. His most recent jobs came with coworkers who were mostly either black or Native American, making Gareth by far the hairiest one of the group. He had been called sasquatch for so long he forgot it wasn’t really a nickname, just an insult.

It was his back that was especially hard to handle, because Gareth couldn’t really shave it himself, especially not out here in the woods. He had often been teased for having a hairy back, but here, he was actually a lot less hairbacked than some of the others.

“Hey, Gareth, we got a daily tradition,” said Mitchell, one of the more outgoing of the other workers. He wasn’t technically in charge, but he sometimes acted like it. “Before we shower, we do a quick circlejerk. It’s a tradition. You don’t have to join in… you know, if you’re a pussy.” He snickered. He was already naked, ready for his shower, and he was among the hairiest here. He was of Greek extraction, Gareth suspected, with swarthy skin and thick, coarse black hair coating his chest and upper back.

“A circlejerk?”

“Yeah. You know what that is?”

Gareth nodded. He didn’t think anyone outside of fraternities actually did that, and possibly not even them. He wasn’t about to be left behind though. “Before we shower?”

Mitchell laughed. “Yeah. Makes it a challenge. Besides, if we smell too good, you might turn into a queer. We don’t want that.”

 

A Texas College Football Jock Will Do Anything for Luck Before a Game

Here’s a sample from the beginning of A Texas College Football Jock Will Do Anything for Luck Before a Game, a hot transgender str8core alpha male servicing story from the All-Strong League!

 

“Do you wanna go upstairs with me?” asked the football player. He was young, a freshman, probably, with a baby’s face and a very adult man’s body. He was blond and broad-shouldered like some Norse god. He looked optimistic that she would say yes.

“Before I answer your question, sweetheart,” Tamsin said, leaning in to very nearly kiss him. She could smell his nervous sweat beneath the mountain of cheap cologne he wore. She whispered so only he could hear. “I’m not biologically female. I have a penis, and these tits are plastic.”

He frowned, first in confusion, then dismay — he looked briefly hopeful when his buddies, the rest of his college football team, burst into laughter — he thought maybe they laughed because she was joking. He laughed with them as though he was in on the joke.

But when he raised his eyebrows at her, Tamsin took his hand and guided it to his crotch. As soon as his fingers touched her dick, tucked between her legs, he blanched and pulled away.

“Oh, hey, y’all, she got a dick, man!” he shouted. He repeated himself, more emphatically as though this was entirely unprecedented, and he jogged back over to his teammates. He sounded like a native Texan, she thought. Tamsin wished she didn’t love Texan men so much; she felt like she’d be much happier in general — though less sexually fulfilled — if she moved somewhere people like her were more tolerated. But she couldn’t bring herself to move away from Texan redneck alpha males like those football players, who were now chugging beer and organizing an arm-wrestling competition.

Tamsin sighed and sat back down with her plastic cup of beer. She was at a house party near the college campus, which was where spent a lot of her Saturday nights these days. She loved sexy young macho jocks and frat boys, and usually she could find a couple who didn’t mind that she wasn’t biologically female.

As usual, the football players had dared someone to hit on her. They thought it was hilarious, clapping that freshman on the back as he blushed. He still seemed to think it was a mistake, that the seniors hadn’t known Tamsin had a penis.

His name was Danny, she gathered from their boisterous chatter, and he was a second-string quarterback. He was burly and broad-shouldered, blond, with a deep southern accent that showed off his Texan roots. She loved that accent so much she could masturbate just listening to him talk.

Do it, Danny, do it! Do it, Danny, do it!

They were all chanting now, stomping their feet in rhythm with the words. The entire house party was chanting even though only a dozen or so football players clustered in one corner were involved. The rest were quite a bit drunker and were just joining in for the fun.

Blushing so hard his round face looked like a cranberry, and rearranging the tattered green tractor cap he wore, he reapproached Tamsin. He stammered, “Uh, miss… Or sir, or whatever… I mean…”

“Go on, Danny. It’s okay. You should call me Miss Tamsin,” she said. She smiled and put a hand on his shoulder. He wore his football jersey, so she could feel his broad muscles through the gauzy fabric. He was number 72, and his last name Carroll, according to the jersey. He shuddered nervously.

“It’s, uh… I was hopin’, uh…” He continued like that for some time. As he talked, Tamsin let her hands roam around his upper body, which was taut with anxiety and tension. She didn’t need to hear his words because she already knew what he was saying. A lot of athletes had told her this story — not that she needed them to, since she had been there for it.

Two years ago, Tamsin had nabbed the star quarterback, then a senior named Thad. He fucked her good at a house party just like this one. He had been horny because his girlfriend dumped him just a few hours ago, and he was just desperate enough to get his nut off that Tamsin had managed slide in there.

But Thad had gone on to play a near-perfect game the next day, and he decided that “fucking a boy-girl” was good luck. Tamsin had no desire to disabuse Thad of that notion. Much to her delight, the rumor stuck, and it hadn’t even remained specific to football. It was now a well-know fact on  the GHU campus that having sex with a chick with a dick was good luck for male athletes.

“So, I ain’t know that,” Danny said. “They jest tol’ me that somebody should be… you know, wit’ you before every game. I said… y’know, I could do it, but I ain’t know-“ He yelped as Tamsin’s finger pushed under his pants and caressed his ass. She made it feel like she was going to stick her finger in his asshole, but then didn’t, she just touched all over the surface. Her dick was rock-hard, painfully squeezing between her legs.

“Do you want to take me into one of the bedrooms?” Tamsin asked. She kissed his bicep, which twitched as he grew more anxious. His friends hooted like the studio audience in some cheesy talk show. “I’ll let you show me what you can do.”

He hesitated.

“Do you have a girlfriend, darling?”

He shrugged. “Sort of. It’s complicated.”

“You wanna impress her, right? With your sexual prowess,” she leaned in closer and inhaled of his scent again, this time so close she could taste the fuzz on his neck.

“Well, yeah… We ain’t do it yet. I mean… we been doin’ some stuff, but not-“ He blushed even harder and looked away from Tamsin.

“It’s okay, sweetie. How many women have you been with?” She looked at his team, who were clustered together and watching as though this was the most exciting thing they had ever seen. “You can whisper it in my ear if you don’t want anyone to hear.”

He hesitated, then whispered, “Just one. We only did it once.”