Tag Archives: thug sex

The Honky in the City Barbershop

Here’s the latest urban MM fiction from Calvin Freeman! It’s called The Honky in the City Barbershop and it completes the all-interracial urban hot trilogy The City Barbershop of Providence, Rhode Island!

 

Ryan knew working at a City Barbershop would be difficult. He didn’t fit in here. The City Barbershop was for black men to get their hair cut. It was an unspoken rule as rigid as any law. There was a different barbershop right down the street, a well-lit place where the barbers were Italian. That was where white people went.

But they weren’t hiring, and Ryan needed a job now. He had applied thinking it wouldn’t go anywhere, but now here he was, starting his first day at a City Barbershop.

He thought this particular location would be a pretty good one for a white guy to work at. That’s because there were, until recently, two non-white barbers here — one of them was Asian, the other Native American. They were both gone now.

So Ryan was the only non-black person there. He was also the only gay man in the barbershop. That wasn’t normal either. City Barbershops had a reputation as a place where black men could go to swing downlow. Whatever happened here, stayed here. Ryan found that part of his new job pretty exciting.

But not a single person wanted a blowjob on his first day. He was almost totally ignored, except for the suspicious glances. He only cut two people’s hair that first day. He barely made a dime in tips.

It wasn’t until his second day, near the end of the day, before he had a real conversation with anyone there. Ryan sat in his chair playing on his cell phone. He had resigned himself to not getting any more clients today, since it was only a few minutes before closing time. He had deliberately made his workstation messy because he thought it would be embarrassing if he was ready to go literally the moment the clock ticked over.

Four minutes before close, a thug named Deon sauntered in. He was a grizzled, deep-dimpled drug dealer who came in with a dour expression on his face. Ryan stood up and smiled at him.

“Hello, I can take you in my chair if you-?”

Deon scoffed. “What?”

“Uh-“

“You a barber here?”

Ryan nodded.

Deon scoffed again. “What? They hire white guys now?” He laughed a little to himself. “Nah, whiteman. I do not want a haircut. I don’t let white folk touch my hair. I ain’t here for a haircut anyway.” He made eye contact with one of the other barbers, Wilson, who nodded at him. They went into the backroom,

At first Ryan wondered if he was being upstaged — were they having sex? It was normal for gay men to take straight clients like Deon into the back to suck them off. But Wilson wasn’t gay, was he? He certainly hadn’t come across as gay.

They came back upfront after only two minutes, which was quicker than Ryan thought plausible. It was only when Wilson walked past Ryan’s chair and he got a fruity whiff of marijuana that Ryan realized what this was — it wasn’t sex, it was a drug deal.

“Thanks, nigga,” Wilson said.

Deon snorted. “I-“ He stopped because the front door opened and the owner, Mr. Wiltshire, strode in. Deon stopped short. Mr. Wiltshire glared at him.

“Deon.” Mr. Wiltshire grunted. He was stern, strict, no-nonsense. It was clear he disliked Deon and seemed to be aware of why he had come here. Deon had cornrows, so he couldn’t pretend he had come in for a haircut. Mr. Wiltshire stared him down. “I know you didn’t come in here to sling drugs, Deon.”

“No, I ain’t.”

Mr. Wiltshire looked from barber to barber. They all avoided eye contact with him. Wilson cleaned up his station, looking away from Mr. Wiltshire.

“So why did you come in here?”

Deon smiled and touched his hair on his scalp. “Oh, you know…” He sniffled. “I was just…”

“He wanted to try out the new boy’s mouth,” Wilson said with a mischievous grin, aimed at Deon. Deon shot him an annoyed look.

“Oh? Is that true, Deon?”

Deon nodded. “Yep. I just…” He rolled his eyes like he didn’t want to say anything else, but then he added, “y’know… I like fuckin’, y’know… I like gettin’ head from gays.”

Mr. Wiltshire looked dubious. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Well…?”

“Fine.” Deon snarled. He grabbed Ryan by the wrist and virtually dragged him into the backroom. Ryan stumbled after him. This had all happened so fast, and Ryan didn’t know the people very well, that he only realized what was going on when he got to the back room. Once the door slammed shut behind him, Deon feinted as though he was going to knock the door down and attack Mr. Wiltshire on the other side. “He’s such a cock, man. You wanna suck my dick for real?”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Ryan said. He was confused, but he couldn’t lie about his desire to give him a blowjob — Deon was plenty sexy and dripping with swagger. Ryan wanted him very badly. He sunk to his knees.

A Prison Bitch Rimjob Raunch Tale

Here’s the first chapter of A Prison Bitch Rimjob Raunch Tale, a hardcore tale that features nonconsenting situations! Do not read this! It contains rape, and the novelette only gets more extreme from there!

Eddie walked into the cell block stark naked, carrying his prison uniform in a box. He knew the guards did that to make him look vulnerable to the other inmates. It was a power game. He resolved not to play it.

He thought he could hold his own in this place. He wasn’t very big, but he wasn’t a weakling either. He was sure there would be weaker men than he.

As he saw his new cellmates, he was no longer so sure. He was by far the smallest. All twelve men in this cell were black — including Eddie — but Eddie was shorter than any of them and skinnier by far. His heart thudded as they all looked at him.

He nodded and muttered a hello, but he didn’t talk to anyone. He sauntered straight to the unused bunk. No one stopped him so he sat down. He slowly got dressed, not wanting to look like he was afraid.

“Hey nigga,” said one of the other inmates. He was tall, a little older than the rest, but built like an athlete. He had broad shoulders and a thick beard, biceps as thick as melons. He had a big nasty scar over his face. “Hey nigga. Hey.”

“Hey. My name is Eddie.”

“Oh, that’s nice, that’s real nice,” said the man. He had the flamboyant cadence of a pimp, and he tapped his feet on the floor as he talked. “I ain’t ask you yo’ name though. I won’t punish you yet cuz I ain’t explain the rules — I’m a fair owner, ya see.” He paused and got down on his knees like he was going to propose to Eddie. “I was noticin’ you walk in here — my name is Copper, by the way — like the metal, not like the police officer, that was more obvious on the outside cuz I wore copper jewelry, ya feel me?”

“Yeah-“

He slapped Eddie over the face. “I gotta stop you cuz you talkin’ again and I ain’t given you no kinda permission for that. Now I’m sorry to hit you, but you makin’ me do it. I’m down here on my knee, comin’ to you like a man. I saw that ass you brought in here, and you look like you got nice big cock-suckin’ lips — I’m bettin’ you a faggot. That true?”

“No. I ain’t-“

He slapped him again, harder. Eddie winced, his cheek exploding in pain. Copper frowned. “I asked you a yes or no question, nigga. All you gotta say is yes or no. Quit makin’ me hit you. I am yo’ owner now, I’s in charge of those lips and that tongue.” He paused like he was waiting for Eddie to interrupt him. “Good. You don’t talk no more ‘cept with my permission, and from now on, when someone ask you if you a faggot, you say yes. Got it?”

“I ain’t a faggot-“

He punched him in the belly. “You got that question wrong, bitch. Answer it again. If someone ask you if you a faggot, you say yes. Got it?”

“Yes-“

“Good.”

Another black man, a big fat one stepped in then. He cocked his head to the side in a mockery of a quizzical expression. “Yo, nigga… Eddie, right? You a faggot?”

“Uh… I mean-“

Copper grabbed Eddie by the neck and squeezed. “Nigga, I ain’t got much patience. Do not test me.”

“Yes! Yes, I’m a faggot!”

“Good,” Copper said. He let go of Eddie’s neck. “We gonna keep workin’ on that. Do you have any questions for me so far?”

“Uh… Yeah.” Eddie gasped for air. “Uh… Please, stop, I, uh… I can take care of myself. I ain’t gonna be yo’ bitch.”

Copper laughed a little. “Oh. Okay. That ain’t technically a question, but I didn’t say statements wasn’t allowed, so that’s okay.” He motioned for Eddie to sit down in his bunk, then Copper followed him. The other cellmates were all staring. Eddie felt very self-conscious and he couldn’t think about anything other than doing exactly what Copper told him to do. “Put that curtain up, nigga. We need some privacy.”

“Man-“

Copper slapped Eddie. “Don’t make me hit you, bitch. I wanna love you, I really do. A lotta pimps treat they bitches like trash, but not me. I care about my bitches, and I do not wanna hurt ‘em. You believe me?”

“Well-“

He slapped him. “Say yes.”

“Yes.”

“Good. I’m glad you believe me, bitch.” The curtain was up — just a sheet tacked up around the bunk to provide a small amount of privacy. Eddie could still see men peering in through the edges. Copper was so big he took up almost all the space in here. “So don’t make me hurt you, bitch. Cuz when I hurt you, that hurts me too. It hurts me deep in my soul. I don’t wanna feel pain like that. I don’t wanna make you feel pain like that neither. I wanna make you feel good, bitch. That’s why I turned you into a faggot back then. You gonna love gettin’ fucked. Right?”

“Uh-“

He slapped him. “Bitch, say yes or no.” He paused. “Do not say no.”

“Yes.” A sob rose up in Eddie’s throat. He tried to bite it back but was unsuccessful.

“Oh, bitch, you gonna cry? I ain’t have you pegged as a crier,” he said. He leaned forward and licked Eddie’s tears. “I’ll lick yo’ cryin’ up like milk in a saucer, bitch. I love bitch tears. They don’t work on me. You just tryin’ to seduce me, that’s what I think of tears.” He paused. “Quit cryin’, bitch.” When that didn’t work right away, he grabbed Eddie by the throat again. “Quit cryin’, bitch.”

Unable to breathe, Eddie couldn’t cry if he wanted to. Gradually Copper let go.

“You breakin’ my heart, boy. Whatchoo wanna do now? Huh? Say somethin’.” He didn’t give Eddie a chance to answer. He barked at him, increasingly belligerent. “Huh? What’s up now? You gonna do somethin’?”

“No, please-“

He slapped Eddie. “What’re you gonna do, bitch?”

“What? I don’t know!” Eddie choked back a sob.

“You said you loved me, you said you was gonna love gettin’ fucked by me! I’s askin’ how you gonna show yo’ love?”

“Oh… Uh… I dunno-“ This was all happening so fast Eddie couldn’t think. Had he actually said he loved Copper? He didn’t think so.

He slapped Eddie again. “Bitch, don’t you say you dunno. You do know, or you gonna figure it out real quick. It ain’t the kinda question any motherfucker can answer for you.”

“Uh… I’ll do whatever you say.” Eddie’s voice quavered.

“Oh that’s good,” he said, blinking back faux tears of love. “That’s real love. I feel that in my heart, bitch. I’m glad to hear it. I love you too. I won’t nevuh hurt you. I love you too much.” He took his dick out and flopped it over Eddie’s face. Eddie erupted in gags — his cock was sweaty, clammy, and the flavor was disgusting. Copper clucked his tongue against his teeth. “Oh, bitch, I love gaggin’. That is the sexiest thing a bitch can do, man.”

He left the tip of his dick on Eddie’s tongue and laughed at the sight of his gagging. He was so big he took up most of the bunkspace in here, and Eddie was pinned by his massive legs. Eddie sobbed until Copper smacked him again.

“You know what would be real sexy? It’d make me the happiest nigga on earth to hear you say, Copper, I love the taste of yo’ cock and I want you to throatfuck me wit’out mercy. I love to hear ya say that, sweetheart.” He smacked Eddie over the cheek and removed his dick so Eddie could speak.

Eddie blushed. He could hear snickering from outside this bunk, beyond the curtains. Someone even let a big black cock dangle in past the curtain until Copper barked at him to stop. Eddie had to suppress a sob.

“Say it, bitch.” Copper grabbed him by the neck. “You feel that resistance in ya, bitch? That’s yo’ remainin’ shreds of dignity, self-respect and joy. I’s takin’ those things, I’m grindin’ ‘em down, and I’m gonna swallow e’ry last bit of it, that way I can build you back up again in my image, bitch. I’m gonna be yo’ god. So yeah, I know it hurts to say it. That’s cuz you used to be a man. Now you a bitch. Change is difficult.” He punched Eddie hard in the belly and Eddie cried out. “Say it. Copper, I love the taste of yo’ cock and I want you to throatfuck me wit’out mercy. Say it in a sexy lady’s voice.”

“Copper… I love… the taste of yo’ cock… and I want you to throatfuck me wit’out mercy.”

“Good bitch. I will do as you wish,” Copper said and drilled his dick down Eddie’s throat. He didn’t give him any time to adjust, he just grabbed his nostrils, squeezed and rammed his cock in. That sour sweaty flavor assaulted Eddie’s senses again. He gagged as Copper’s massive shaft pushed into him.

Copper found the positioning awkward because this bunkspace was so tiny, so he had one of his fellow cellmates reach in — without looking — to pinch Eddie’s nostrils shut. That gave Copper free use of his hands.

A painful retch erupted in Eddie’s belly, but Copper didn’t slow down. He pivoted his hips, slamming his cock in and over and over, despite Eddie’s gagging. His dick filled Eddie’s throat so completely he couldn’t have bit down if he wanted to, which he didn’t — Copper seemed to be totally invulnerable and Eddie knew he’d be punished for  biting.

“Open that mouth, bitch. I ain’t playin’, I am not playin’, you best open wide right now.” He punched Eddie in the belly hard enough to make him nearly pass out.

Copper’s facefucking was so violent he shook the entire three-bunk bed, and the rest of the cell had gathered to snicker outside. Eddie was painfully jammed up against the edge of the bunk. Someone poked at his asshole with a finger and he didn’t have the wherewithal to fight back.

The curtain fell down and no one put it back up, so everyone could see Eddie now. Copper pulled his dick out but Eddie didn’t get a breath in before Copper grabbed him by the throat.

“Oh loverboy, that was some good gagfuckin’, I like that. That was real good for a first-timer. But you gonna get better. Did you love it?”

“No!”

He squeezed harder. “You sure? You wanna reconsider that?”

“…” Eddie wanted to say no more than anything, but could he? He hated the idea of giving in to Copper. “Fine, yes!”

“Take deep breath, sweetheart, you doin’ real good, real good,” Copper said sweetly. “I love you so much. You breakin’ down just right, in all the right ways.”

Then before Eddie knew it — he barely got one halting deep breath in, hoarsely gasping for air — he was bent over the bunk backwards. That gave Copper the perfect angle to throatfuck him. He again relentlessly drilled his spit-soaked cock down Eddie’s throat, and this time he managed to get every inch in.

He daggered his hips, fucking Eddie’s face so hard Eddie thought something in his neck was broken. Copper’s balls stank horribly, hanging low and thick and hairy on Eddie’s nose.

His mind focused so relentlessly on his suffocation by cock that Eddie didn’t really notice the other cellmates at first. They kneeled down to peer into Eddie’s eyes, since his head was draped backwards over the edge of the bunk. Copper couldn’t see them and didn’t know what they were doing because they didn’t make any noise (or possibly, Eddie thought, they did make noise but Eddie’s mind didn’t process it because he was more focused on his relentless gagging).

Anyway, they first just took turns looking Eddie in the eye, so close Copper’s balls touched their face. It made them laugh and shove each other around.

“Don’t you start fightin’ me, bitch, I will fuck you up!”

Then the other cellmates began poking Eddie with their own cocks. They silently — to avoid Copper’s attention — aimed their dicks right for his eyes. First, it was just one at a time, then they seemed to think it was funny to get as many on Eddie’s face as they could. They got four, maybe five to sort of touch Eddie’s skin before accidentally touching Copper’s balls.

“What’re you niggas doin’?”

“Nothin’, we just playin’ wit’ ya bitch, Copper. He lookin’ seductive like he wanted some more dick.”

Copper chuckled. “Yeah, he got that cock-loving slut look.” After a moment, he narrowed his eyebrows as he let Eddie take a breath. “You niggas get ya dicks away, unless you payin’. He ain’t yo’ property, he mine.”

They backed away. Eddie got just enough air to avoid passing out before Copper rammed his dick right back in. He gagged again and again. Copper held Eddie’s nostrils shut and glared at him.

“Alright, bitch, you gonna taste my nut in a minute. Look me in the eye. You mine. You gonna be mine forevuh. If there’s an afterlife, bitch, you be mine there too. You ain’t nothin’ but a nutrag.”

Suck that nut! Suck that nut! Suck that nut!

The other cellmates chanted and pounded on the cell-bars. They stood by the door to block the view, so when a guard came by to tell them to shut up, he couldn’t see in — he could hear though.

“What’re you folks doin’ in there?”

“Nothin’, suh, we just rehabilitatin’ ourself.” They snickered and jumped over each other to agree that that was what they were doing.

“Why’re your dicks out?”

“Uh…”

“That’s, uh… See, officer…”

“That’s just the part we rehabilitatin’ today,” someone said. They laughed and the guard even joined in. Eddie squealed and snorted as he got dizzy. Copper had his dick all the way in Eddie’s throat. His face turned red and he slapped Copper’s ass as loud as he could to get the guard’s attention. Eddie felt cum flowing into his stomach, draining into him as Copper’s dick throbbed against his nose, but his cock was so deep Eddie didn’t taste it. All he could taste was ball-sweat.

“If I gotta take that new boy to the infirmary, I’ll shove my nightstick up your ass,” the guard said as he walked away.

Eddie was delirious. Water and spit covered his eyes, so he couldn’t see anything. He thought he was about to pass out when Copper finally withdrew his dick.

That was what it took for him to taste cum for the first time; it was sour and salty and astringent and it made Eddie’s stomach churn. Copper smacked him in the face as Eddie hoarsely cried out for oxygen. Someone else kicked him in the side.

Copper was shouting at him but Eddie couldn’t quite focus enough to hear what he said. The other inmates cackled and thwacked their cocks over the cummy mess on Eddie’s face. But eventually Copper realized that Eddie genuinely couldn’t hear him, so he shooed the others away.

“Go’n, niggas, he ain’t for sale just yet. I gotta break him in,” Copper said. “Back off for now.” He smacked Eddie’s face very softly, holding onto his hair, which was too short to easily grab on to. “You grow yo’ hair out, bitch, so’s I got something to hold onto.” He waited for Eddie to stop crying and choking. “You ain’t a good cocksucker yet, bitch. That’s why I had to treat you salty. You gonna get better?” He smacked Eddie. “Say yes.”

“Yes.”

“Elaborate.” He pulled on Eddie’s hair. “I said elaborate, bitch. Tell me how you gonna get better.”

“Uh… I’ll… uh…-“

He smacked Eddie. “You say uh too much, like some slack ho. My bitches ain’t slack, so ac’ right. Speak in words. Say somethin’.”

“I’ll suck your dick better!”

“More details, bitch.” He smacked Eddie over and over. “More details. How? Better how?”

“I’ll-!” Eddie couldn’t speak with Copper smacking him. He couldn’t quite catch his breath either. “Stop!” He cried. “Deeper!”

Copper stopped. “What?”

“I’ll suck your dick deeper,” Eddie said, his voice hoarse. He looked down at the ground, but Copper pulled his hair to make eye contact with him. “I’ll do it deeper. So you don’t have to throatfuck me-“

“Bitch, I will throatfuck you. But that’s good. That’s real good. I got some other ideas too, but we gonna work on that. Now stay kneelin’, bitch,” he said. He pointed to a spot near the toilet. “Right there. Kneel and practice deep-throatin’ wit’ yo’ finger. Work on yo’ throat. You do that for one hour, then I give you some free time. Say you love me.”

“I love you.”

“Good.”

Eddie painfully crawled to the spot and kneeled. His knees already ached, but he didn’t dare ask if he could sit down. He tried to look at the ground but Copper made him face the other end of the cell, where he and the others began working out with improvised weights.

Eddie managed to sob quietly enough that Copper didn’t yell at him.

The T-Girl in the Alley

Here’s the beginning of The T-Girl in the Alley, a new story of urban transgender erotica!

 

Tina very rarely slept with anyone, so when she awoke feeling the warmth that emanated from Hardneck’s body, she was momentarily surprised. She had plenty of sex, of course, she just very rarely allowed any men to actually sleep with her.

Hardneck was a special case — he was so sexy it hurt to look at him. He was a scruffy thickbody, with light skin that Tina’s grandmother would have called high yellow. Tina was pretty light-skinned too, but not pale enough to qualify as high yellow. Hardneck would have looked white if it weren’t for his tightly kinked black hair, squat nose and thick, full lips. His massive chest rose and fell as he breathed.

The sun was coming up. Tina knew Hardneck would want to get up soon, so she decided to wake him up in her own special way. She slowly moved her head under the covers, where the smell of his unwashed body filled the air.

She moaned and let her delicate fingers roam over his body. He didn’t react, still sound asleep. She made sure to angle her body so her own penis was nowhere’s near Hardneck — he was fine with sleeping with a transgender woman as long as he didn’t see or feel her penis.

His cock had flopped out the fly of his boxers, which made Tina giggle; it looked like a large snake trying to escape from his crotch. She licked his dick from tip to root. That at last made Hardneck shift and twitch, but he still didn’t wake up. Tina licked as gently and quietly as she could, hoping to get him hard and on the verge of orgasm before he awoke.

Hardneck’s harsh features were soft because he was asleep. He had looked cruel and vituperative when Tina first met him — that was his default look, always scowling, perpetually scolding when he spoke. Yo, bitch, hurry up, I’s tryin’-a sleep! That was what he had first said to her, one night when Tina drunkenly fumbled with her keys coming back home through the alley.

He lived in that alley at the time. He was homeless, or as he put it, between females right now. He said he’d get some beautiful white girl to hook up with him and then live with her for awhile. That was his plan, but it didn’t seem to be working.

Instead, he was living with Tina, who was not white and though she was a girl in her own way, Hardneck didn’t see her as a true girl. That hadn’t stopped him from treating her like one so long as he didn’t see her penis.

Yo, baby, you look good enough to eat. If you had a pussy, I would lick it clean, I’d be like a kitten with catnip, I be all over you, baby. I make you feel so good you melt in a little puddle of pussyjuice. You like dick, huh? I bet you do.

He had flopped his massive tan cock out right there in the alley, not even bothering to move behind the dumpster so he couldn’t be seen from the street. He waggled his dick back and forth and let Tina stroke it.

She hadn’t intended to give him a handjob there in the alley. She thought it was just harmless flirting. But he had moaned passionately, as though he had never felt anything as good as her hand on his dick.

Girl, move ya hand a bit, just a bit, okay? Move it up and down… I want you so bad, I need you…

He whispered in her ear, and Tina was seduced. She stroked him to full completion right there, and he shot his load in two minutes — Tina was very good at handjobs when she wanted to be.

Now, in bed, she didn’t want to be too good at handjobs. She stroked his dick gently, licking the tip with her tongue, until he was fully hard.

At last he gasped and murmured, “damn, girl, you gettin’ a headstart.”

It sounded like he meant to say something else too, but he bucked and a spasm of pleasure ran through him. His spine twisted, as though he had been on the verge of orgasm when he was asleep, and his mind caught up all at once now that he was awake.

“Mornin’, sugar,” Tina said from under the covers. She giggled as Hardneck’s whole body shook, and the salty taste of precum exploded in her mouth.

“Aaaaaaaah… Girl… Girl, you know how to treat a nigga right… Yeah, suck it deep, girl, make a mess.”

She obliged, choking up as much spit as she could, until it coated his spasming dickshaft and soaked into his pubic hair. A lot of saliva spilled down onto the bed too. She didn’t mind, she would wash her sheets today so her man would have a clean place to come home to.

“Alright, baby, you so special, you amazin’, girl, you treat me so right,” he said softly, looking up at the ceiling. “I’m-a treat you rough now. Don’t mean I love you any less.”

His firm hand wrapped around the back of her head, while the other grabbed her chin. He pistoned his dick all the way down her throat. It was a facefucking, but not in a violent or aggressive way. He made sweet love to her face, clucking his tongue when she gagged but inexorably forcing his dick all the way into her throat.

Mafia Muscle, the Masseur and the Happy Ending

Here’s the beginning of Mafia Muscle, the Masseur and the Happy Ending, a new story of yaoi MM erotica by Lee Lane Lamplight!

John giggled as he wrapped one hand around Alfie’s cock. He tried to keep a straight face, or at least avoid making too much noise, because he thought it would make Alfie uncomfortable. Alfie had a thick slab of uncut meat. John didn’t often get to mess around with uncircumcised men, so he enjoyed playing with Alfie’s foreskin.

Soon his cock had firmed up, and it throbbed beneath John’s hand. Alfie’s broad chest muscles rippled as a wave of pleasure rolled over him. Alfie bit his lip and grunted. His swarthy face turned ruddy from both arousal and embarrassment.

“Ah, shit yeah, man, I love how ya hand feel on my meat, but don’t tell no one…”

John had thought Alfie was hot from the moment he first laid eyes on him. He had been coming in and out of the building with his head down since he opened his massage parlor there. He felt it was necessary to keep a low profile because he had come to learn the restaurant on the ground floor — right beneath the massage parlor he had saved years to open — was Mafia-connected.

It seemed like a joke when a friend first told him about the rumors. He had initially dismissed it as silly gossip. It was an Italian restaurant, he thought, they probably tried give the place a Mafia reputation to spur sales.

He had to admit that, when he walked through the foyer to get to the stairs leading up to the second floor, it sure looked like a Mafia restaurant. There were never very many customers there, even on a weekend night. There were a lot more men than women, and nearly everyone looked Italian — he once saw a scared-looking Chinese couple in there, eating quickly and looking like they had already come to regret their choice of dining establishments.

The first time he saw Alfie, John had come through the foyer just as a small group was leaving. Alfie stood behind a table of older Italian gentlemen. He was a bodyguard, or so it looked. He was much younger than the others, with a big shock of curly black hair that ran down to his broad shoulders. He looked at John as though he might stop him from going to the stairs. The old men at the table didn’t seem to notice John.

That had been the kicker — that was when John realized the rumors were true. He had never in his life see anyone at a restaurant with a bodyguard. That could only be a Mafia event, he thought.

What should he do about it? He didn’t have any ideas. He certainly wasn’t going to call the police. He resolved to never ask anyone from the restaurant for a favor, for fear of being asked to repay it.

That had been the end until Alfie came upstairs, nervously, head down, chest muscles quivering beneath his button-down shirt. John had heard laughter down in the restaurant when he opened the door. He didn’t know this massage was going to lead right into the sexiest happy ending John had ever given out.

“Oh god, man… Oh god…” Alfie sat up and opened his eyes. He looked down his broad, expansive chest at his cock in John’s hand. Alfie picked up the crucifix that dangled between his pecs and kissed it. He wanted to make the sign of the cross, but he worried it would be sacrilegious to do it while he got a handjob from a man.

He covered his eyes with his forearm. He prayed that he was doing the right thing by agreeing to this. It didn’t exactly feel like the right thing.

Alfie — or Alfredo, but no one called him that — was raised mainly by his mother. He was aware of his father, in prison, but he only met him a few times. His uncle had long talked, in his dense New Jersey dialect, about men who were bardassas: bottoms. As far the men of Alfie’s family were concerned, a real man penetrated, sticking his cock in whichever tight hole he could fit it in, consequences be damned. It was only the bottom who was properly ashamed of being treated in that way. A bardassa was a bottom, whether willing or not.

But the Mafia in America didn’t act that way anymore. They had women available. Alfie’s employer was Clan Novelli, who owned numerous brothels throughout New York. Alfie was able to go see the girls anytime he wanted — he was too nervous to actually do so, because his mother raised him to stay away from prostitutes, but he had made it seem to his fellow mafioso that he had done it. He wanted them to think he was a macho man’s man.

They had found out he was lying. They asked at the brothel he had claimed to visit most recently, and they said he was never there. Alfie had been humiliated. They had asked if he was a virgin. He wasn’t, but they didn’t believe it.

“Go upstairs, Alfie, to the massage parlor. Ask for a happy ending, and you will be a man at last,” said Don Novelli, a portly older man who had patted Alfie’s muscled back beneath his ill-fitting suit. Alfie nodded. He wasn’t allowed to question the Don.

“Yes, Don,” he said. “I… I ain’t no virgin. I can… I can fuck that masseuse broad, no problem.” He added a cocky chuckle.

“Alfie! You forget yourself,” Don Novelli said. Alfie knew he’d be scolded for speaking so rudely in front of the Don. It was worth it to look like a real man.

“Yes, Don. I apologize. I am often, uh, overwhelmed by my urges.” He grabbed at his cock through his slacks and sniffled. He hoped he looked suitably macho.

“Yes. Yes, I am sure,” Don Novelli said with a wry smile.

And so Alfie had gone upstairs. He heard snickering from Don Novelli and the other made men down there as he went up the stairs, but he thought they were just laughing at how big Alfie was. They often called him names like ox or horse because he was well over six and a half feet tall and built like a professional wrestler. He hoped the girl was not going to be tiny — he had come to accept that he was too big for any thin, pretty girl; he needed hefty, thick girls who could handle Alfie’s size and his rough-hewn body.

And that was when he knocked on the door the Happy Endings Massage Parlor. As the door opened, Alfie realized he had never seen any girls here, just that one seemingly gay man who came in and out frequently.

He groaned. It all came together. There was no girl. That was why Don Novelli and the others laughed. They knew Alfie was going to have to fuck a man.

He would have done it too. Alfie’s uncle had assured him it would make him a man. He said that real men knew how to take some sniveling weakling and turn him into a bardassa.

The T-Girl in the ‘Hood

Here’s the beginning of The T-Girl in the ‘Hood, a new story by Calvin Freeman about a transgender woman living in the hood, getting propositioned by all the sexiest straight bucks the ghetto can provide!

 

Tina looked out her window. Her apartment was freshly cleaned, so she felt good — she loved a clean apartment. From her vantage point, she could see the park next-door. It wasn’t a nice park; Tina lived in the ghetto; it did have one redeeming factor though.

The shirtless men who played basketball every day. Tina watched them bump sweaty chests and clasp each other on the well-muscled back, stroking her cock until she shot all over her floor. Tina did the same thing nearly every day.

Today, however, she was distracted almost as soon as she wrapped one hand around her cock. Walter was back. She shivered with delight and anticipation.

Walter was her neighbor, or to be more precise, he was her neighbor’s husband. He was a middle-aged black man; there was no objective reason he should be so hot, Tina thought — he didn’t have a perfect body like some of those basketballers; he had a nice face but he was hardly some Hollywood heartthrob in that department; he was scruffy, ever-dirty because he was semi-homeless with a serious gambling problem and semi-serious drug problem (according to Tina’s neighbor, whom she didn’t entirely trust). He was ungodly sexy though, with swagger dripping off him and a hefty frame that made Tina drool every time she saw him.

“I said I’d do it, baby, damn!” Walter’s raspy deep voice rang out. He was one of those people who didn’t really have a quiet voice, so Tina could always hear when he was back in his wife’s life. “Don’t start this shit again!”

One of the sexiest things about him was that he had checked out Tina’s ass, and then when his wife told him Tina was transgender, his eyes opened wide as though he thought that made her hotter. Tina didn’t often see that look on men’s faces. But he had gone then, after an argument, before spending a few months in prison on an ancient child support beef, then living on some “white lady’s couch”. He had come back one other occasion, but only for a few days before he got kicked out again. Tina hadn’t had any opportunity to be alone with him.

Until now.

She hurried into the back alley when she saw him grumbling as he left the building. Tina’s apartment was right there adjoining the alley, so she was the only person that had her own side-entrance and -exit. That was the door she used now.

“Hey, Walter,” she said. He had a bag of trash in his hand. It was heavy enough that it made his biceps flex holding onto it. He wore only a wifebeater and a pair of shorts. He tossed the bag into the dumpster.

“Hey,” he said with a casual nod. He grabbed his cock through his shorts and smiled at her. “What’s ya’ deal?”

Downlow Thugs at the Basketball Court

Here’s the first chapter of Downlow Thugs at the Basketball Court, a new story by Calvin Freeman! It’s an incredible tale of rough trade, urban lust and mandingo meat!

“Blowjob.” Jake spoke quietly, hanging out near the basketball hoop. He didn’t want to attract a lot of attention, not from the crowd — he did want to attract attention from the two guys playing.

Jake was gay, and he was hanging out at the Wilson Street basketball court, like he used to do when he had just come out of the closet. Since then he had gone to college, started a career, had a long-term relationship with a jerk named Adam, dumped Adam, got really into homemade sushi, nearly made the disastrous decision to open his own sushi house, briefly hooked back up with Adam before dumping him again, and now he was back here at the Wilson Street basketball court once more.

“Blowjob.” Jake felt a little silly, but he couldn’t help it. He hadn’t planned on doing this until he drove by and saw his old haunt.

There were two young black men playing one-on-one basketball. They were both shirtless, their bare brown chests gleaming with sweat. One of them was very tall and lanky; the other was shorter and more muscular.

“Blowjob.”

“What?” said one of them, the taller one. He was named Hardesty, and he stopped moving near the basket after having scored.

“I’ll suck you off, man,” Jake said. He smiled flirtatiously at Hardesty, stepped forward and placed one finger on his chest. Hardesty furrowed his brow and looked down at the finger. Jake scooped up sweat from his pectoral muscle, then sucked it off his finger.

Hardesty chuckled. “You crazy, man.”

Jake nodded. “Maybe. But I suck dick good.”

“Hey, whatchoo doin’, come on,” said the shorter player, jogging over to Hardesty. “We got a game goin’ on.”

“Sweetlips over here gonna suck off the winner,” Hardesty said. He and the shorter guy were both out of breath but trying to hide it so they didn’t look weak to each other.

“He gonna suck me off?” the shorter man said with a grin. “I ain’t agree to that, but… well, okay-“

“Nah, the winner,” Hardesty said. “He gonna suck off the winner. Me.”

“Winner? You gotta score some points, nigga. You light-years behind right now.”

“I’s only behind cuz you off on some travel, nigga, you been travelin’ all over this court-“

“Oh, come on, there ain’t no ref to work, boy, you just gotta play-“

They continued bickering as they resumed play. Jake was disappointed. He hadn’t gotten any firm answer. But they didn’t say no either.

The game was over soon after. Maybe Hardesty really wanted the blowjob and it made him play harder, because he scored three times in quick succession, giving him the lead. When the game was over, Hardesty pounded on his chest and flexed his biceps towards the folks hanging out on the sidelines. Most of them didn’t pay any attention. The only person who cheered was Jake.

Hardesty smiled awkwardly at him, as the shorter player laughed and patted Hardesty’s bare belly. Hardesty bit his lip and made eye contact with Jake.

“You got that, boy,” the shorter player said as he walked away, shirt in hand. He cackled. “You nasty, Hardesty. He ain’t even dressed like a girl.”

“Don’t be hatin’ just cuz I got meat that needs attention, nigga! Real thugs like me gotta get they shit handled!” Hardesty called out loud enough to attract attention from the others, who giggled at him. Hardesty grabbed his dick through his shorts and smiled at the girls. “Hey, how you doin’?”

They didn’t give him the time of day. Hardesty scoffed and walked away, basketball in hand. He nodded at Jake, who quietly and surreptitiously followed him into the public bathroom. It was almost never used, so it wasn’t dirty, but it was almost never cleaned, so it wasn’t clean either. It was just dusty and grimy. Jake knew it well.

He immediately sunk to his knees, even before the door had swung shut. Hardesty blocked the door with the heavy trash can so they’d have some privacy.

“Ain’t seen you… uh… Damn, boy, you in a rush?” Hardesty grimaced at Jake’s eagerness. Jake pulled his shorts and boxers down, then kissed his dick right on the tip.

“I don’t see any reason to slow down,” Jake said with a grin. He put the tip of Hardesty’s cock in his mouth and hocked up spit right onto it. Hardesty groaned and leaned against the wall of the bathroom.

“Goddamn,” Hardesty said. He closed his eyes. “Shit… Boy, you are one crazy gay.”

Jake smiled. He slathered spit all over Hardesty’s rod, which made Hardesty gasp and bite his lip like he hadn’t expected it to feel this good. Hardesty shifted and wiggled.

As his cock stiffened up in Jake’s mouth, Hardesty lifted his shirt up. He didn’t take it off, but he raised it over his head and the back of his neck. He had ropy muscles, which Jake reached up to caress, his bulging biceps, flat belly — though he didn’t quite have a six-pack — and his mountainous pecs. His muscles all twitched as though he didn’t entirely want Jake to feel him up but thought it would be rude to say that.

Jake didn’t mind. When he used to suck basketball players off, a lot of them thought it seemed too gay to let Jake do anything besides suck cock. They sometimes got angry if he even massaged their asscheeks or played with their balls.

Luckily, Hardesty didn’t seem too bothered by it, even if he did dumbfoundedly watch Jake’s fingers explore his body. A few drops of sweat ran down his skin and onto Jake’s hand.

“Shit… This is some nasty thug shit. Why don’t girls ever suck like this, man?” Hardesty asked as he leaned back and sighed. His whole body wriggled and he bit his lip.

“Girls don’t have the right equipment,” Jake said. He flopped Hardesty’s dick over his face. “They don’t know how it feels. Besides, girls like relationships and stuff. They don’t just suck off hot guys. They’re so stupid. If I was a girl, I’d be the biggest slut in the world, oh my god. I’d suck off all the thugs.” Jake giggled as salty precum flowed over his tongue and his lips.

“I bet you would.” He paused. “Hey, you smoke weed?”

Jake nodded. “You got some? Light it up, baby-“

“Nah, nah, I’s sellin’. You wanna buy?”

“Oh… no thanks,” Jake said. “I’ve already got a guy.”

“Who? What’s his name? Tell me,” Hardesty said with a big grin. He moved his hips, swaying his cock back and forth over Jake’s face. Jake chased it with his tongue.

“Greg. You don’t know him.”

“He gay?”

Jake nodded.

“Why you buy weed from a gay? They ain’t thugs. They don’t know nothin’-“

“He’s really convenient, sorry,” Jake said. He grabbed Hardesty’s dick and licked it all up and down, hoping that would punctuate how final Jake’s decision was.

“You shouldn’t buy weed from whiteboys.”

“I didn’t say he was white. I said he was gay.”

“He a nigga?”

Jake nodded. “They can be both.”

Hardesty bristled a little and shifted his weight between his feet. “Guess that’s okay then. If he evuh run out or somethin’, you gimme a call, I can hook you up.” He paused. “You gonna swallow my nut, right?”

“Of course.” Jake resumed deep-throating while Hardesty beamed like he was getting away with something. Hardesty’s hands wrapped over Jake’s head and he held on tight.

Hardesty moved his hips as though he was going to facefuck Jake, but Jake didn’t cooperate — he kept on moving his head and sucking, sputtering up mountains of spit which he then suckled right off Hardesty’s dick. Hardesty groaned and moaned, twisting, squirming, wincing when he saw that his boxers were soaked with spit.

“Ah shit, whoah…” Hardesty yelped. He stood on his toes, then his knees buckled and he almost collapsed onto the floor. He leaned against the wall. “Alright, yeah… I can take it, boi, go ‘head, keep on suckin’.”

Jake smiled to himself. He had Hardesty right where he wanted him. He rammed his mouth all the way down and forced Hardesty’s dick deep into his gullet. The sweet, musky flavor of his manmeat assaulted Jake’s senses and made his eyes water.

A sound came from Hardesty’s mouth, a mixture between a bark and a grunt, with a long, low sputtering quality. A few drops of drool even slipped out past Hardesty’s lips as his cock sprayed cum right into Jake’s throat.

Jake was well-practiced at this part — he loved swallowing cum. He stayed on his knees, holding onto Hardesty’s body with his nose nestled in Hardesty’s sweat-musky crotch. His bristly pubic hair scratched Jake’s face.

“Ah! Oh! Oh shit! Ah! Ah, damn, ah damn, don’t move, boy, damn, ah, ah, ah, ah…”

Hot and creamy cum coated Jake’s throat, while Hardesty squirmed and gasped. The flavor of salty, sour juices flooded Jake’s senses, making him think of nothing but servicing Hardesty’s hot body. Even as Jake felt himself growing dizzy from lack of oxygen, he stayed right there, swallowing every drop of cum.

Then he pulled off, with a loud lip-smacking moan. He had sprayed his own wad onto the linoleum floor of the public bathroom.

Hardesty had his eyes closed. He was a little pale, and he looked like he might cry. His whole body shook. “Holy shit, goddamn…” He sunk to the ground.

“Was that your first time?”

Hardesty chuckled dryly. “Yeah, man. I was gonna lie, I was gonna pretend I did this before. But… I ain’t got the energy to lie, man. I ain’t nevuh get a blowjob like that before. You my first male and… damn, you suck like you got somethin’ to prove.”

“You have a nice dick.”

“I think you ruined it man,” he said with a sigh. He was on the ground, his pants and boxers around his ankles. “Damn, you got me on the ground in this place. It’s nasty.”

“You want help up?” Jake asked as he stood and stretched his sore knees.

“Nah, man. Lemme just… I gotta recover, man. You got a cigarette? I don’t smoke, but…” He took a cigarette from Jake, who even lit it first for him. He took a deep drag off it. Despite his words, it looked like he did smoke — he inhaled like he knew what he was doing, and he didn’t cough.

Jake moved the trash can that blocked the door. Then he wrote down his phone number and gave it to Hardesty. “Anytime you want me to rock your world again, gimme a call.”

He walked out before the bleary-eyed Hardesty could come up with an answer.

Bulging Biceps at the City Barbershop

Here’s a sample from the first chapter of Bulging Biceps at the City Barbershop, a hot tale of black male thug M/M action on the downlow, and part of the City Barbershop of Indianapolis series!

Chris Harwood finished cutting an old man’s hair. There was a customer waiting for him next, so Chris hurried. He wanted to finish quickly enough that he would have the next empty chair, that way he’d get that customer instead of one of the other barbers.

But he failed. The old man was slow, and when Chris got out the mirror to show him the back of his head, he had to put on his glasses and peer carefully into the mirror. By then, one of the other barbers had finished, and was ready for the next customer. He motioned for the waiting man to sit down.

“Nah…”

The guy waiting refused a haircut. Chris caught his eye and knew what this was after all — the waiting man was here for a blowjob, not a haircut, that’s why he had declined the other barber.

That’s because Chris was the only gay barber at the City Barbershop of Indianapolis. The City Barbershop was a nationwide chain with a well-known reputation as a place where black men could go to get away from the world… and get a blowjob on the downlow. What happened here stayed here, so gay men like Chris could get their fill of rough trade meat.

The guy waiting for Chris was Darren. He was a tall, ropy-muscled black man with very dark skin. He glowered a little. He looked nervous and maybe a bit bitter about being here.

Chris suspected he knew why. The local gang — the Nine Tats, who controlled most of the illegal activity in Indianapolis — made a lot of their new recruits have sex with a man because undercover cops weren’t allowed to do it. Besides that, there was a certain macho element to it — a real gangbanger, Chris had been told on many occasions, should have a massive cock and know how to use it.

Darren sucked on his teeth. When it was his turn to get a haircut, he made eye contact with Chris and motioned towards the door to the backroom.

As always, Chris teased him. For most of the straight thugs who came to see him, being told to do it and deciding to do it were stressful and difficult; they didn’t think beyond that. Nobody ever told them that Chris might refuse. In this case, he was definitely not going to refuse — Darren was hot — but he fully intended to make Darren work for it.

“You gotta sit down, nigga,” Chris said, “or I can’t cut your hair.”

Darren scowled. A few of the other barbers chuckled dryly. They knew perfectly well that Chris liked to tease straight men, especially someone like Darren who came across as arrogant and mean even though he hadn’t spoken yet.

“I, ain’t… I ain’t here for a haircut.”

“Oh. Are you here to apply for a job?”

“Nah, nigga,” he said with a scoff like that was a ridiculous idea. “I got… I got somethin’ to, you know… talk to you about. I came here… to talk… for the purpose of… talkin’… to you.”

“And here we are talking! What a grand success your mission has been!” Chris threw his hands in the air. Everyone except Darren laughed. Chris playfully squeezed Darren’s biceps, which were thick and throbbing. Chris giggled. “Ooh, you’re strong.”

“Yeah.” He bit his lip. “Uh… So, uh… Yo, nigga… Can I…? I mean…” He blushed and sputtered. Everyone laughed at him. He scowled at the other barbers. His hands formed fists. He looked like he had been a thug long enough no one ever really teased him, so he was uncomfortable with this situation. But in the City Barbershop, Chris had all the power. Darren licked his lips. “Quit laughin’. Yo, quit laughin’! Quit playin’, niggas! Come on…”

Chris didn’t stop caressing Darren’s biceps. They were stiff because Darren was tense, so it was like massaging a warm slab of rock. Darren wrinkled his nose, but he didn’t make Chris stop.

“Can I see your biceps?” Chris asked.

“Man!” He shouted like that was beyond the pale. “Go in the back, nigga!”

“It’s just biceps,” Chris said with a giggle. He made his own biceps. He was a delicate-bodied twink, so his arms were not impressive. They were maybe one tenth the size of Darren’s upper arms. “Are you scared my arms will be bigger than yours?” The rest of the barbers laughed so hard they stopped cutting hair. The other customers laughed too, and Darren scowled, shouting for silence.

“Man! All y’all shut up!” Darren let out an angry roar. “Fine! Fuck you!” He pumped both biceps, which were indeed huge and bulging. Chris loved men with very well-defined biceps, with a large hump like a cartoon character.

Chris tried to grab ahold of his right arm to kiss it, but Darren was too tall — and he held his arms high enough that Chris couldn’t easily reach it. Darren said something that was lost in the din of the hooting and laughter from everyone else in the shop.

So Chris jumped. He was more than a foot shorter than Darren. He leapt and grabbed ahold of his right bicep, held on and tried to do a pull-up to kiss and lick the muscle.

Darren dropped him. “Come on! You know what I want!”

“I do. I know what you want,” Chris said. He put his hands on his hips. “I’m not required to give it to you. You have to convince me you deserve it. I don’t just suck off everyone I meet.”

Darren flared his nostrils. “Please?! Just… I said please, nigga?”

Chris thought for a long time. Darren really did have excellent bulging biceps. He smiled. “Okay, I’ll suck you off right now, but do you know any other gay men?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, sorta. My baby mama’s brother. He’s… gay.” It sounded like Darren didn’t often use the word gay to describe gay men; he was being polite for Chris’ benefit. “He’s like thirty. He don’t live around here, and I doubt he’d suck me off. He hates me.”

“Okay, but you gotta let him kiss your biceps anytime he wants.”

“What?”

“That’s my condition. From now on, whenever you see him at family gatherings, you have to tell him that he can feel up your muscles, or at least your biceps,” Chris said.

He bristled and shifted his weight on his feet. “Nigga… I can’t do that. He don’t like me. He, you know… I got a rep to protect.”

“Oh, well, you better get outta here and go protect it then. This is a dangerous city,” Chris said. He leaned in to whisper dramatically. “There’s gangbangers here.”

The shop erupted in laughter again. Darren stamped his foot on the ground. His hands were stuck in fists, and he shadowboxed the air a few times. His tattooed biceps gleamed with nervous sweat.

“Fuck you!” He stormed out of the shop. The door tinkled as it slammed shut. Outside he took a deep breath, then turned around and came back in. “Fine! Yes! Yes! Okay? Fine! I’ll let Robert make love to my fucking biceps!” He sneered Robert’s name like he really hated him a lot.

“Awesome,” Chris said, though no one could hear it over the roaring laughter of everyone else in the shop. He didn’t wait for anyone to quiet down. He hopped into Darren’s arms. Darren sighed and rolled his eyes, his face stony and placid as he refused to showcase his embarrassment. The others all clapped and hollered like they were the receiving line at a wedding. Darren carried Chris through the threshold into the backroom of the barbershop, while Chris kissed and sucked on the veiny muscles of his arm. He made it nice and sloppy, so his saliva dripped down Darren’s side.

As soon as they were in the back, Darren deposited Chris on the floor. In the quiet of the backroom, Darren’s hostility was a lot more uncomfortable. He glared at Chris as though Chris had had a responsibility to suck him off without preconditions. His biceps gleamed now with sweat and spit. He sneered as he pulled his cock out of the fly of his sagging jeans.

Chris had planned on teasing Darren some more, but he hadn’t come up with anything fun to do. Once he saw Darren’s cock, he didn’t think about anything else — it was so big and meaty and delicious-looking that he couldn’t resist. He licked his lips and opened up.

“You play too much, nigga. You act a fool,” Darren said. He sniffled and looked away from Chris like he was offended.

Chris slapped his face with Darren’s cock, which quickly stiffened. He slathered spit up and down the shaft, making Darren shake and moan.

“You’re serious too much,” Chris said. He giggled. “You know if a guy who looks like you just comes in says can I have a blowjob please? I’d just say yes. It happens all the time.”

“Shut up and suck it.”

“When you come in here and act like an entitled prick who will get a blowjob on ‘ccount of bein’ super-fly and sellin’ lots of rock, it makes me not wanna do it. Makes me wanna get somethin’ else out of it-“

“Whatever, man…” Darren said. He looked chagrined despite his lack of a reaction. “I ain’t gonna do this again, so don’t bother givin’ me tips. I’m just doin’ it to get my spot in the Nine Tats.”

Chris dropped his cock and backed away “Oh, well, I don’t wanna push you into nothin’ you don’t wanna do. If you’re uncomfortable…”

“Man, I’s gangsta as shit, boy, shut yo’ mouth. I ain’t say I don’t wanna do it,” he said. He sniffled. “I just… I got females who’ll do it, y’know.” He threw his hands in the air. “I’m sorry. Please suck my dick, nigga. I… I want you to do it.”

“So I’m doing you a favor, right? You’re not doing me a favor?”

“Right.”

“Good. Act like it,” Chris said. He resumed sucking. He pulled Darren’s pants and shorts down — Darren clearly felt it was more gangsta to get a blowjob through the fly of his boxers, but he didn’t argue about it. He just closed his eyes, leaned against the wall and moaned as Chris sucked him down.

It was obvious he felt intense pleasure. Chris could see it rippling through the muscles of his chest, which Chris felt up as he sucked. But Darren subdued his reaction, biting his lip and writhing when he lost control. His cock was rock-hard and throbbing in Chris’ throat.

“Yeah, bitch…” Darren muttered. “Suck it, man. Suck it. Oh god yes, you suck better than any female…”

When Chris deep-throated and gagged, he tasted a burst of precum. That triggered Darren to get really into this, and he grabbed Chris’ head. He held on tight and rammed his dick down Chris’ throat.

The salty flavor of precum exploded in Chris’ consciousness. He moaned around the cock throbbing in his mouth and throat, and he guzzled down every drop of manjuice he could get.

“Damn, boy, you suck pretty good. I can forgive you fo’ actin’ like a bitch,” Darren said. He scoffed. He leaned his head back and grunted as he slammed his cock all the way in and held on.

Chris gagged and his throat instinctually resisted, but Darren was powerful and refused to let go. Chris clasped Darren’s plump asscheeks and held on to signal that Darren should keep facefucking — Chris loved a violent oral copulation. His dick filled up Chris’ gullet, spraying wad after wad of creamy hot cum right into Chris’ throat.

The salty-sweet taste of cum was strong and it brought tears to Chris’ eyes. Darren kept his dick deep in Chris’ throat until he was done spraying his wad, then he sighed and pulled out.

“Damn, that was not bad at all,” he said with a frown. He wiped his limp dick over Chris, who heaved and gasped for air. “I ain’t upset about that at all. That was worth lettin’ you lick all ovuh my bicep.”

“You have great biceps. Very sexy.”

“Shut up.”

Street Trade: Stealing a John

Here’s the entirety of Street Trade: Stealing a John, a new story from the Str8 Trade series! It’s about Chazz’s ongoing quest to explore the exciting world of Street Trade!

There you are, Johnny-boy, I see you comin’ my way! Why don’t you break me off a piece of that sugar?

That was it, that was him. Chazz stepped out from behind the dumpster and stopped in front of John. He was a short black man, muscular but not large, firm and tight-bodied beneath an ill-fitting suit. It wasn’t quite colorful enough or nice enough to be a pimp suit — it was faded and frayed, loose threads and old stains abounding. Chazz knew who John was because he had been living in a flophouse nearby and watching.

John came down here to Canal Street every weekend. He always paid for a blowjob from one of the hookers. He always asked for anal, but he never had the money for it. He begged them to let him in the back-door for free, promising that he’d lick their pussy when he was done — Chazz suspected he would have an excuse to leave if that ever happened: no straight man ate prostitutes’ pussies, he thought.

Chazz thought John was sexy, and he thought John was willing to try a different route to that backdoor. He had been working on this plan for weeks.

“I’m comin’ fo’ you, girl!” John said to the prostitutes. He walked slowly, with a barely perceptible limp.

“Hey,” Chazz said. He startled John, who glared at him. “You wanna make some money? I’ll pay you a hundred bucks to do to me whatever you were gonna do to her, and more. You can fuck me six ways to Sunday.”

John had been bopping his head to an unheard beat as he came down the alley. He kept bouncing on his feet, even as his eyes bugged out. Then finally he stopped and chuckled.

“Yo,” he said, flat and simple. “What?”

Chazz repeated himself. He blushed a little. This was always the awkward part, and he was suddenly a lot less confident that John would say yes. “I’ll give you a hundred dollars. All you gotta do is fuck me.”

“Yo, I, uh, I ain’t homosexual, right, and I don’t fuck ‘round on the downlow.”

“This wouldn’t be on the downlow, this would be here in public.”

“That ain’t a sellin’ point, man,” he said with a snarl. He pushed Chazz out of the way. “Go’n, boi, get outta here b’fore I swipe ya head off. I ain’t no boytoy for no gay, no way, no way, I ain’t gonna lay no fay limp-wrist doin’ sashay always the gay.” He had barely even stopped walking for a moment before continuing on, doing his little rap to that same beat he had been tapping as he came in. He shook his head and headed towards the girls.

C’mon, baby, you look tasty tonight! You wear that suit like a stud!

You get all dressed up like that for me, sweetie? Ain’t you the handomest?!

Chazz was disappointed. He was usually a good read on men. John had seemed like he’d do it for some money, but the way he phrased that and the way he moved on right away made it seem like he would not do it for any amount of money.

“Yo, sweetheart, you lookin’ fine in that purple. Whatcha think ‘bout-“ John stopped talking and turned around. He jogged back to Chazz and smiled, showing off deep dimples. “Yo, I forgot, I do it. Two hundred and some pee.” Then, he gasped, “I mean, in a cup, man. Pee in a cup. Not, you know, like a sex thing. Pee in a cup. I need it tomorruh for a pee test.”

Chazz was taken aback. “Oh. You forgot? You forgot you do swing downlow?”

“I just… I remembered this little business I got, man, it’s real impo’tant and it ain’t not a bit of yo’ business ’t all,” he said. He snorted. “But yeah, I gots a plan fo’ that money, hell yeah. And that’ll be the first time I evuh got clean pee for my PO.” He peered at Chazz. “Do gays smoke weed? You smoke weed?” He screwed up his eyebrows like he had never pondered the possibility that gays might smoke weed.

“No. Well, yes, but I haven’t smoked in months,” Chazz said.

He nodded. “Okay, good.” He produced a specimen cup — an actual one, from a lab — and handed it over.

Chazz went behind the dumpster to pee. “You carry this around with you?”

“I was goin’ somewhere wit’ it,” he said, snarling like he didn’t like Chazz inquiring about it. He came up behind Chazz by the dumpster. He swiped the cup from him as soon as Chazz had replaced the lid. He didn’t seem to care that a few drops of pee got on the sleeve of his ratty old suit. “Get on yo’ knees. You ain’t a girl, so don’t even think I’m gonna seduce you or call you sweetheart or kiss you. I don’t nevuh did love no male man, no way. Nope.”

“No problem,” Chazz said as he dropped to his knees.

Where’d Johnny-boy go? He was just here.

John chuckled dryly. He had a nice, raspy throat that made Chazz hard. Chazz undid the fly of his nattered suitpants. He pulled out a juicy, fat cock. Since John was short and not especially large, his cock looked even bigger, extending almost all the way to his knees and as plump in diameter as his forearm.

“Just put the tip in yo’ mouth, boy,” John said. Then he clucked his tongue against his teeth. “Sorry, I don’t like sayin’ that. I gonna call you girl. Okay, girl?”

“Uh-huh,” Chazz spoke around the cock throbbing in his throat. It was limp still, but it was gathering steam. He could feel it twitching and twinkling as John got used to the situation.

“Alright, girl, put the tip in yo’ mouth.” He paused and pulled out a cigarette. He patted his pants pockets. “Damn, girl, you got a lighter?”

Chazz shook his head. He put the tip of John’s dick in his mouth and suckled loudly, moistly. He got a taste of clean cock — it was clear John had showered right beforehand. He must have wanted to be at his cleanest for the prostitute he had planned on hiring.

John snorted. A trashy-looking white redneck walked past the dumpster, heading towards the girls. He didn’t notice John getting a blowjob in the shadows. “Yo, hey, man,” John called out to him. “You got a light, man?”

The redneck nodded. He fished a lighter out and gave it to John, who lit his cigarette and took a deep drag. The redneck realized then that John was getting a blowjob from a man, and he backed away. “Uh, keep the lighter,” he said. He turned around and darted towards the safety of the prostitutes.

John cackled. “Whiteboys don’t know nothin’ ‘bout this kinda shit. They squeamish as all hell, man.” He took another drag. “Free lighter, alright, alright, alright.” He sighed. “Alright, now get ya tongue out a bit, girl. Move it around some.”

Chazz did what he said. He kept sucking on the tip and licking the shaft at the same time, his tongue flickering out to tease every inch of his manhood. John leaned against the brick wall facing the dumpster. He closed his eyes and groaned.

“Yo, lick right here, baby,” he said. He pointed to a spot, and when Chazz licked that enthusiastically, John groaned again. He smiled. “Yeah, you pretty good. I’m gonna keep tellin’ you how to do it, girl. Hope that’s okay. I’m sure you got ‘xperience, but I like it done in just the right way. Lick here now, girl, get that tongue out… Yeah…” He spoke in a low, slow-melting voice.

Is that you, Johnny? I see you there. Whatchoo doin’ behind the dumpsters? Ain’t you gonna come see me?

John laughed and covered his face. He poked his head out from behind the dumpster. “Hey, sweetheart! I might take a break this week.” He snorted and smiled. “Wait! Nah! You come on ovuh here, Sharlene! I got somethin’ for ya! It’s gonna be real special!” His voice was smooth and kind, but then he glared down at Chazz and spoke more brusquely. “Alright, you can deep-throat me now, girl.”

Chazz was excited to show his capabilities. He slammed his face all the way down on John’s dick, until his nose mashed into the fabric of his slacks. His wiry pubic hair scratched at Chazz’s lips and his balls swayed past his chin.

“Okay, nice, alright then, alright, alright,” John said, like he hadn’t expected Chazz to suck so well. He smiled as Sharlene approached. She was a big black girl with a wide ass. She wore a bright green dress that showed off her assets. She smiled at John, then frowned when she saw that he was receiving a blowjob from a man.

“Hello,” she said. She glared at Chazz and barked out, “what’s this? You stealin’ my customers? My daddy ain’t gonna be happy ‘bout that.”

Chazz grinned, but he didn’t pull off John’s cock, which throbbed in his throat. John gasped like he was shocked that John could deep-throat him all the way to the root.

“Don’t be salty, baby,” John said. He leaned over and kissed Sharlene on the cheek. “He payin’ me, I’m just savin’ some money. You still my one and only. Maybe I can pay you fo’ some anal action next week, you know.”

“Uh-huh.” She put her hands on her hips. “You leavin’ me high and dry.”

“I don’t want you dry, girl, no way. Lemme give you ten,” he said. He pulled out a ten-dollar bill. “I finger ya real good, baby.” He smiled and held up two fingers like he was negotiating. “I put two fingers in ya pussy and one in the ass. You like that? Huh? Or you want two in the ass and one in ya pussy?”

She took the ten-dollar bill. She frowned down at Chazz. “You best hurry up, gayboy. If my daddy come by and you still here, he go’n kick at least three people’s asses. Ten dollars ain’t enough to make him happy.”

John kissed her on the lips. His tongue plunged into her mouth. His head was turned to the side to reach her face, while his crotch was forward for perfect access for Chazz.

As always, when Chazz got into the swing of his latest piece of street trade, he felt a real sense of intimacy with his man. He always thought the best way to get to know a straight man was to suck him off. All of his inner feelings and dreams were palpable when you had him at his most vulnerable, allowing a man to swing on his meat.

And John was no exception. Chazz swallowed his cock to the root as John kissed the prostitute and fingered her pussy and ass. She submited boredly, but John acted like she was just as passionate as she was. Maybe his heterosexuality blinded him, Chazz thought, while Chazz was gay enough that he could see when a woman was just pretending.

John wore this suit to impress her. Chazz had been going back and forth whether he wore it for her or because he just thought he looked good or maybe he was going to go club-hopping later, maybe he just wanted to get his rocks off before hitting on pretty girls so he wouldn’t be too horny. Or maybe he just always wore a suit, or he was hoping to become a pimp one day. There were a million reasons he might be wearing the cheap, ill-fitting burgundy suit.

But the more he sucked, the more Chazz knew the answer — John wanted to look his best for Sharlene, or whichever prostitute looked best to him when he got here. He felt like a trashy loser when he dressed in his ordinary t-shirt and jeans to get a blowjob from a whore, so he wore his only suit instead. He talked like he was seducing her, like she was his girlfriend, like he really loved her, because he wished he was the kind of man who felt that way about a girl.

Now that John was knuckle-deep in the plump prostitute, his dick throbbed and jerked around within Chazz’s throat. It spewed precum in copious quantities.

“I love you, baby, I love you so much,” John murmured to her. He completely ignored Chazz, focusing instead on kissing the prostitute on her neck. “Am I the only nigga you want?”

“Baby, you really are,” she said with a canned moan. She kissed him back on the neck.

He chuckled. “Damn, I like this. Only cost me ten bucks, and I’s gettin’ paid by the fairy. I’s makin’ a profit tonight, damn-howdy!”

The prostitute took a step back. She shook her head. “Nah. My daddy gonna be very mad ‘bout that, Johnnyboy.”

“What?” He had a big smile on his face like a mischievous little boy who had just gotten in trouble.

“Only his girls is allowed to work this alley,” she said. “He go’n cut you. Or just demand all the money the fairy is paying you. Or both.”

John chuckled. “Baby, don’t tell him, okay? You still gettin’ paid-“

“He’s my daddy, I gotta tell him! He get salty if’n I don’t.”

“If you don’t tell him, he won’t know nothin’, baby,” John said. He slipped a second finger into her pussy and groaned. She kissed him on the neck. John groaned. “Tell him the fairy ain’t pay. Tell him I let him have suck me as a freebie.”

“He won’t like that much either, nigga,” she said.

John sighed. “Then tell him to suck my dick or whatevuh, I don’t care. Quit talkin’ ‘bout yo’ pimp.”

He didn’t need to add talk about me instead, but that was what Chazz gleaned he wanted. The prostitute realized that too, and immediately started rubbing his chest through his shirt and talking about how much she wanted a taste of his cock. John just smiled and fingered her pussy. He brought his fingers up to his nose to sniff them.

“Suck ‘em off, baby, lemme see it,” John said. He tried to put his fingers in her mouth, but she kept her lips closed.

“Another ten bucks, sweetheart,” she said softly.

“You charge money to suck on my finger? It just got ya pussyjuice on it, baby? I love you-“

“I love you too, Johnnyboy, but I gotta pay my daddy,” she said. “Ten bucks and I’ll suck on any finger you put in front of my mouth.”

He chuckled and handed over another ten-dollar bill. He shook his head and bit his lip. He put his fingers back in her pussy, then removed his other finger, the one that had been in her ass.

“Hmm,” she moaned like she had been waiting for that. She swallowed his callused finger, making him shudder and lean back again.

Chazz stopped sucking his cock. John watched his finger slide in and out of her mouth like he was hypnotized, like he hadn’t even noticed the blowjob was finished. Chazz pulled his pants down and bared his ass.

Without a word from John, Chazz backed up. He squeezed John’s cock into his asshole. John just kept sticking his fingers in the prostitute’s holes; he switched his fingers around like it was a game, smilingly sickly as he watched her suck her pussy and ass juices off his finger.

Finally he looked down to see his cock slide into Chazz’s ass. He wrinkled his nose a bit, then went back to kissing the prostitute. His whole body trembled beneath the suit.

“Damn, baby, I love anal,” he said. He said it to her even though the only person whose ass he was in was Chazz. His hands roamed over her tits and tweaked her nipples through her green dress. “Can I suck on ya titties, baby? I love you so much. I’m gonna be wit’ you forevuh.”

“Uh-huh,” she crooned. “Twenty bucks.”

“Twenty bucks to suck on ya titties?!”

She smiled. “If you gimme another twenty bucks, I’ll have made fifty bucks off ya. That’s enough I can give my daddy, he ain’t gotta be mad,” she said.

“Alrighty, then, alrighty, but only cuz I love ya and I don’t want him beatin’ on ya, baby. That ain’t a good value, twenty bucks fo’ some titties, nah,” he said with a laugh. But he paid the twenty dollars anyway, and dove for her chest. He lowered her dress to bare the tits and began licking. He groaned. His cock spasmed in Chazz’s ass.

Chazz savored the exquisite feeling of John’s meat throbbing inside him. He moaned. He had to grip the side of the dumpster for support. It took all of his coordination to keep moving his ass back and forth on John’s cock, because John didn’t move his hips at all; Chazz was responsible for the entirety of the fucking. John ignored Chazz completely, kissing and pawing over the prostitute instead.

His sweat soaked his suit, which he had bought in Goodwill for a job interview years ago. John got the job, delivering flowers for a small florist shop. He hated his boss, a mean Armenian man who ran a flower shop even though he was allergic to pollen, disliked romance and thought any man who bought flowers for a woman besides his mother was not a real man. The only part of his job that John liked was that he was not usually in the shop, so he got to walk the streets, smoke joints when he wanted to, and he sometimes got married white housewives to suck his dick (okay, once he got one to suck his dick, but he got handjobs fairly often).

John had never told anyone, but Chazz was not the first man he fucked. When John was in prison for two years, he had a thin, delicate gay black man as a cellmate. Initially, John had beaten him up and taken his fruit cup in the mess hall. He arrived at prison wanting to show off and make a name for himself, and he was glad to have a small, weak cellmate he could pound on.

But over the next nineteen months, John went him hating his lilting, gay-faced cellmate to feeling sorry for him to being grateful for his attention to enjoying fucking him to even giving an enthusiastic reacharound after a few gulps of toilet wine (when there was a sheet up over the cell bars so no one knew John had touched a gay man’s cock). When John was released, he had sworn to himself he was going to make changes in his life, and one of those changes was that he was going to keep visiting his former cellmate. He wasn’t going to be embarrassed about it; he’d do it because he liked the support and adoration and the gay’s unqualified, relentless lust for his body. He liked to feel wanted. He had sworn on his good name that he’d keep coming back.

But once he was free, and he saw girls all over the place, and he got some good-natured ribbing about what he might have done with other males in prison, John wasn’t comfortable with it. In his cell, he could put up a sheet for privacy. If he went to prison as a visitor, he couldn’t hide anything.

So in the end, he had never once visited the man he almost fell in love with. He regretted it often, but John never looked him up again. He counted down the days to the man’s scheduled release date, and then he counted up the days since he had been released.

When he fucked Chazz there in the alley, that was what he thought about, even as he fingered Sharlene. He kissed her while imagining he was kissing a man who didn’t need to be paid to care for him. He bristled with pride at the thought that he had turned someone on enough to pay him for sex. He was a gigolo now, right? Or maybe not technically, but close enough he could claim he was and swear on his mama’s grave he wasn’t lying.

“Kiss me, baby,” he moaned. He grabbed her body and held her close. He kissed her tight on the lips, his tongue exploring her mouth. He was short and she was a little taller than him, but she was much thicker, so he looked even smaller in comparison, like she could have swallowed him up whole if she wanted.

His cock spasmed as he groaned into her mouth. His muscles tensed beneath the suit, which was now plastered to his chest with sweat. His balls drew up in his sac, and for the first time since this had begun, he gripped Chazz’s bare asscheeks. He loudly orgasmed, gasping and heaving in the shadowy alley.

John held Chazz in place and swayed his hips from side to side, fucking every inch of his insides. Cum sprayed over his prostate, triggering Chazz’s own orgasm at last. He sprayed his wad onto the garbagey alley ground, while John’s load coated his body.

John kept on fucking, sucking on the prostitute’s tongue and tweaking her nipples with both hands. His cock rammed in and out of Chazz’s cum-dripping ass. The more he fucked, the more of a mess he made — John had developed this game with his cellmate, making his load frothy, spilling out, bubbling forth in a big drippy wad that made him gag and laugh.

“Damn, boy, you take it — I mean, damn, girl, you got real nasty there, that was nice,” John said. He whistled. He pointed to the messy ass. “You see that, Sharlene? Lookit that. That is some nasty anal. That is right. That’s how you do it.”

“I do that, sugar,” Sharlene said like she was offended at the insinuation that she didn’t know how. “You know my price. You know I don’t give no discounts on anal, not no how.”

He smiled. He kissed Sharlene on the lips. “Yo’ daddy lettin’ you go out sometime, baby? I take you out to dinner-“

“No, sugar, that ain’t allowed,” she said. She pulled her dress back up over her tits.

He shrugged like he was expecting that answer, which he was: he asked her that every time she sucked him off. She said no every time he hired her, which was most weeks — basically unless she was with a different john when he arrived. He didn’t like waiting for her because it gave him plenty of time to wonder what kind of guy she was with, and then she’d inevitably taste like another man when he did get to kiss her. He knew that she was with a lot of men regardless; it was just easier to forget that when he didn’t have to wait for her to be finished with them.

“Hey, girl,” he said to Chazz as he smacked Chazz’s asscheeks. “Will you suck my nut out ya asshole? I want that. That’s hot, man. I love that. Ain’t no kinda girls ever do that. I never seen a female do that, and it turns me on so much-” He paused, then lied as he realized he had sort of admitted he did this with a man before “I mean, some girls do it, some do. That’s how I know how hot it is. But a lot of ‘em won’t do it.” The only person he had ever seen suck cum out of his own ass was his cellmate, but John wasn’t about to admit that.

“Okay, yeah,” Chazz said.

John smiled. He let go of the prostitute and slowly withdrew his limp dick. He gagged at the sight of juices dripping from it. He laughed so loud it echoed against the walls of the dumpster. “Ugh, this is so nasty, girl, I love it. I’m gonna love you too if you do this. I swear to God, I will marry you any day if you promise to suck on ass-to-mouth. So fuckin’ nasty. Nasty. Nasty. Nasty. I love it.”

He stroked his cock with one hand. It was so sensitive he yelped and his body undulated beneath the suit. He loosened the tie with his other hand. He rammed two fingers into Chazz’s ass. He gagged again, laughing nervously at his own reaction. He clawed inside Chazz’s body, causing a torrent of pain and exquisite post-orgasmic pleasure. He pulled his fingers out and watched with wide-eyed amazement as Chazz sucked them clean.

His fingers and hand were soaked in cum and assjuice. Chazz loved it. If he had thought John would ever agree to finger his asshole, he would have asked — he would have paid more if he knew it was an option, so he was glad John had initiated it for free instead. John’s fingers were callused and scarred, and they tasted like stale sweat beneath the assjuice and cum.

“That was so disgusting, girl, I love it,” he said to Chazz. “I swear to God, I will marry you, baby.” He paused. “I ain’t serious, I know you ain’t no girl. I won’t marry you. No how. You ain’t my boyfriend.”

“I know,” Chazz said. He pulled his own pants up. He felt grimy and dirty, but he loved that feeling. He watched John tuck away his own cock and zip his slacks back up.

Daddy’s here, where’s my money, babies?!

A big black man in a fine blue suit — this one was perfectly tailored, vibrantly colored and clean as a whistle; this man was clearly a pimp — walked into the alley. He bellowed, and the prostitutes at the other end of the alley all spoke at once. There was a chorus of feminine voices.

The pimp didn’t notice Sharlene there, so she stepped out from behind him. She smiled and giggled to get his attention.

“Oh, hello, baby, whatchoo doin’ back there?” He saw John. “G’evenin’, sir. You got ya usual?”

John laughed. “Not the usual, exactly. But I got what I need, nigga, no pro’lem.” He walked away, dapping his head as he walked, dancing to an unheard beat just like he was when he entered the alley.

Chazz hid there in the shadows for a moment, while the prostitute handed her money over and explained what had happened. When her pimp glowered a little like the money she had earned was not enough, Chazz wondered if he was going to get in trouble after all.

So he fled into the night. He was thin and quick, and the pimp didn’t know he was there, so he just darted right past him and ran out of the alley.

Chazz was ready to move on. The city streets were alive with hot straight men, and Chazz couldn’t wait to service every last one of them.

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.

“Damn…”

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.

Alpha Cellmate: The Gangsta

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

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

But Barry wasn’t worried. He was excited.

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

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

Fresh fish!

Damn, that is one sexy fish!

He’s mine! I called it!

I saw him first!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s yo’ name, blondie?”

“Barry.”

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

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

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

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

You fuckin’ that fresh fish yet, Thump?!

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

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

“Oh. Okay-“

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

“Okay-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you sir.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shut up, bitch.”

“Yes, sir.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, sir. I can’t wait.”