Homeboys

by Shane Allison

  He wouldn’t beat me up ten minutes after I save him from a drive-by, would he?

  “Street’s quiet. Maybe you should go,” I said. You never felt anything. Just leave. Just be cool, and leave, and we’ll all pretend today never happened.

  “Maybe I don’t want to,” he said, sounding thoughtful. He turned slowly, shifting out of my way as he did, but he didn’t step back far. Instead, he reached forward and wrapped one big hand around my cock. Pleasure and excitement pulsed from my balls, even as my heart pounded like a crack fiend’s. “You into that Brokeback shit?”

  “Look, I don’t want any trouble,” I said, keeping my voice steady despite the tangle of fear and desire.

  “How ’bout my fat cock? You want that, brother?” He still sounded tough, but something in his voice had changed—he wasn’t being intimidating, anymore. There was something in his voice that was almost…vulnerable.

  “I wouldn’t say no.”

  “Then why don’t you get down on your knees and suck it, bitch?” He hitched his already-low pants just a hair lower, and reached into the waistband of his boxers. I watched, mouth watering, as he pulled out a cock that was thick and hard and ready for me.

  He jerked his chin at me, chest pulled, shoulders up in question and challenge, and I sank to my knees and sucked him in deep, my tongue running over his head before it went into the back of my throat. I swallowed around him, and he moaned. “Ah, hell yeah,” he said, and lifted a hand to press against the back of my head.

  I moaned as I tasted him, salty and musky and powerful, and he twitched his hips, thrusting deeper until I had my face buried in the curls at the base of his cock. When I edged back and began to suck him in earnest, his moans and curses became a constant chorus of pleasure.

  With my other hand, I massaged my own achingly hard cock, rubbing it through my jeans. I nearly creamed myself when he said, “You want my cock in your ass, brother? You into that perverted shit?”

  I leaned back to say, “Yeah,” and he jerked his head toward the couch. I got up and knelt on the cushions, my hands fumbling with the clasp of my belt until I could drop my pants to my knees.

  He made a pleased sound as I tipped my hips back for him and heard him spit and the wet sound of his hand on his cock. Then he probed at my hole, and I hissed in anticipation. He wouldn’t be gentle, I knew, but I didn’t want gentle; I wanted to be split in two by his fat cock.

  He didn’t disappoint. I groaned in pain and pleasure and he slid slowly, unhesitatingly into me. “Yeah, that’s right, you’re my bitch. You’re my bitch. Fuck yeah.”

  “I’m your bitch,” I repeated, strained, breathless. My body cried out with the pain of his invasion, but it cried out even louder for more, harder, now! I squeezed my tight ass around him, and he gave a strangled cry and pulled back before slamming back into me, merciless. Yes.

  As he built up steam and increased his pace, I moaned and bucked back against him. The pressure of being violently filled was searing and burning, and that burn translated straight to heat and sparks of pleasure gathering in my balls. I wrapped my hand around my cock, letting his rough, aggressive thrusts push my cock through my hand so I was stroking myself at his frantic pace.

  “Fuck, yeah,” I said, joining his chorus of soft swears and groans. “Make me your bitch. Fuck yeah, fuck, yeah…fuck…” I’d hoped to hold out, but the pleasure coursing through me was overwhelming. My balls tightened and my whole body clenched as I came, my cock spurting onto the couch cushions. I moaned, long and low, and heard my bad boy swear behind me as my ass seized around him.

  He thrust in one last time, burying his cock inside me, and I felt the hot flood of his come in my ass, while his fingertips dug, hard, into my waist. I groaned and shuddered, and felt him echo the trembling before he pulled away. By the time I turned around, his cock was put away and he was already backing away from me.

  I didn’t say anything, and for a long moment, neither did he. Then he shrugged. “You here at ten tomorrow night, maybe I’ll come in and chill for a minute.” He nodded, and then he was gone, the door slamming behind him as I knelt on my couch, his hot come dripping down my legs and a splatter of my own juices staining the cushions. Oh, yeah…I’d be here.

  Ganged Up On

  Shane Allison

  I was horny as fuck and was sick of staying home jacking off to amateur porn. It was Saturday night and I wanted to feel a man’s warm ass engulfing my dick. I wanted to get my dick sucked that week for a change. It was too late and too damn dark to hit the parks. The campus was closed for the summer. All the college cock had gone south. Even my usual cruising spot was closed for cleaning. But it was no skin off my ass. There was always a good time to be had, even in the small town in which I resided.

  I sat in a parking lot thinking of other places to go. I could tell my dick couldn’t wait from the way it punched against the cotton of my cutoff warm-ups. I usually wore them out during my nightly search for big dicks. Easy access, you see. Things were a little crowded at home with my sister and her kids visiting up from Orlando. I thought of the truck stops, but didn’t feel like taking the long drive down freeways in search of some dick or having to worry about getting busted by state troopers with a hard-on for men like me who exposed their dicks indecently in truck-stop stalls. Trucker cock is good when you can get it, but it hardly seems worth it when you have a cop breathing down your neck. I thought of a few spots, but none of them seemed private enough, until I spotted the trailer park not far from where I was parked. My buddy Tim had told me about it. Mexican trailer park he called it.

  “They’re down for anything,” he told me. “Huge fucking cocks.” I asked him where in the trailer park did they hang out.

  “No place in particular. You’ll see a lot of them just standing alongside the road. There’s this dirt road. Just drive down it and you’ll see them. If you see someone you like, just wave him down.”

  “Are they hustlers or what?” I asked.

  “I think some of them are, yeah, but you have some that are just sitting around looking for a good time. Drink, smoke, fuck, whatever.”

  “Man, I don’t know,” I told him.

  “You’ll see. Go check it out.”

  I had never gotten around to taking the trip until now, when I was horned and there was no other place to go. My dick was aching for a wet hot mouth. I could have shot a volcano of cum. I thought for sure Tim was blowing smoke up my ass, but if I wanted to get laid, I figured the shit was worth checking out. I never gave Mexican boys much thought other than those I saw doing road work or cruising the flea market with wives and kids hanging off their shoulders. There were a few that would stroll in the sex arcade every now and then sticking their dicks through the booth glory holes for blow jobs. But none of them made my dick hard. There was one that worked as a clerk at a gas station. I was pumping gas and he referred to me as amigo. I used to have filthy fantasies of him speaking to me in Spanish as he butt-fucked me.

  I didn’t want to wait forty-five minutes for them to open the arcade, so I decided to try the trailer park Tim had told me about weeks before. I locked my car and left it in the parking lot. I figured my fat ass could use the exercise. There were only a handful of streetlights that lit my way, showering me in white light as I trudged down the dirt road. I could feel sand shuffling around in my sneakers. I walked until I found myself sandwiched between double-wides with plastic toys in the yards, rickety porches barely holding up. I noticed a few men standing in shadows with only the orange glow from their cigarettes to light their way. Some sat on porches tossing back canned beer, burping in the Saturday night spring air. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared shitless. Terrified that someone would jump out and mug me, or worse. But I showed no fear. I walked until I noticed a couple of cholos. They were kicking up dirt as they moved closer to me. I kept my head to the ground to let them know that I wasn’t a threat. One of them bumped me hard as I tried to pass.

  “Hey, man,” one of them
yelled. “Watch where the fuck you going.”

  “Sorry. My bad,” I said, and kept walking. I heard them talking behind my back.

  “What? What he say? Yo, what was that negra?” I knew that “negra” meant “black.”

  “I said I was sorry,” I said.

  “What? You lost or something?”

  “Well, I’m trying to get back on the street, but I think I got twisted around somehow.”

  “I’ve never seen you in the neighborhood,” said one of them who had long, greasy pitch-black hair and sported a muscle T-shirt and baggy khakis. His partner had a Caesar haircut and wore baggy jeans with a white T-shirt that looked to be three sizes too big. They both looked like gang members, but were candy to the eye.

  “I don’t live around here. I was just taking a walk.”

  “You hear that Hernando? He was just taking a walk,” said the stud in the muscle T-shirt.

  “Isn’t that nice, Armando. Well, how about you give us your wallet and maybe, just maybe we’ll let you walk outta here.”

  My head was swimming. My heart was beating out of control.

  “Man, I don’t want any trouble.”

  “Give us your fucking wallet,” Hernando warned.

  I thought about running, but they looked to be in much better shape and would have surely caught me, making things a hell of a lot worse. I fished my wallet out of my back pocket and threw it to them. Armando caught it. He searched inside, tossing the contents to the ground. He took out twenty dollars. Money I was going to use to get gas before heading home.

  “Twenty bucks?” Armando said, holding up the money, scrunching it in his hand.

  “That’s it. That’s all I got.” I started to regret taking a walk through a neighborhood I didn’t know shit about.

  “That ain’t all you got,” said Hernando, as he pulled out a switch blade and held it against the small bulge in my sweats.

  “Move your ass,” he said.

  “Why? What’s going on?”

  “Shut the fuck up and walk,” demanded Hernando. I did, until they told me to stop. The three of us stood between two dark, rundown trailers that looked as if no one lived in them.

  “Man, I’m just trying to get home,” I pleaded with Armando, as if he was the one in charge.

  “Shut the fuck up and strip.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Do it or I’ll cut your throat,” said Hernando. I was scared, but curious to know what they had in store. Were they going to fuck me or make me walk back to my car bare-ass naked? I did what I was told. I took off my shirt and dropped it to the ground. I slid my feet out of my flip-flops and peeled my cutoffs down to my ankles and stepped out of them. I could feel wet dirt and cold needles of grass between my toes. I stood there with my arms at my sides. Armando and Hernando started laughing as they pointed at my hard-on. My dick was erect and throbbing under the white streetlights. Hernando stood in front of me. He took my dick in his hand.

  “Nice,” he said. It was a response I wasn’t expecting. Armando followed and tugged at my balls. Hernando started to suck my nipples. It made me crazy hot.

  “Get on your knees,” said Armando. I did what he said. My face came to his crotch that sported a tent inside his khakis. He unzipped them and pulled out his dick. It was long and uncut, musky for being held in his pants all day. Armando peeled back the foreskin with nubby, dirty fingers. A cockhead the color of chestnuts was exposed with a deep pink piss-slit.

  “Lick it,” he said.

  I gave in and started licking the crown of his dick.

  “Fuck yeah,” said Hernando, as he held the back of my head.

  Armando tapped his cock on the tip of my tongue then shoved it easily into my mouth. I strained my face. Armando pushed his dick as far as it would go to the rear of my throat. He pulled out when I gagged. His dick was wet and syrupy with my spit.

  “Open up,” said Hernando. I took Armando’s dick again. Tears started to well up in my eyes due to all the inches he was using to fuck my mouth. I placed my hands on his hips in an attempt to control his thrusts. With a mouthful of dick, I watched Hernando unzip and pull out his cock. He stood there waiting for his turn.

  “Fuck his mouth,” he said, as he played with his dick. I breathed through my nose. I could taste precum.

  Hernando stated something in Spanish that caused Armando to uncork his dick out of my mouth. I didn’t hesitate to take Hernando’s just as deeply. They let their guard down when they knew I had given in. I looked up into his eyes with my yapper stuffed with Mexican cock.

  “Choke on it,” Armando said, as he jacked his spit-slicked cock. Hernando pushed my hand away as I ran it along the trench of his ass.

  “If anyone’s going to get fucked, it’s going to be you, amigo.”

  He pulled out of my mouth and pushed me back into dirt and cold grass.

  “Get on your stomach,” said Hernando, as he flipped me over with his foot. The taste of his dick sat on my tongue.

  “You go first,” I heard him tell Armando. I felt hands grasp my hips. They pulled me with brute force. Dirt clung to my limbs. I felt Armando’s fingers spread the cheeks of my ass. He put his finger inside me while Hernando stood in front with his meat dangling at my face. His boots were scuffed at the toes. I buried my fingers in the dirt, anxious to feel Armando’s cock up my butt. I felt the head going in and then the rest. He fucked me slow and easy. My mouth was only vacant for two seconds before Hernando stuffed it with his piece. My front and back were being fucked on that breezy Saturday night between broken-down trailers. Other than the sound of dick sliding in and out of my holes, I heard the rush of cars speeding past on the street. I did a decent job of keeping up with their thrusts. Tim was right. I couldn’t wait to tell him how much so.

  “Now we switch,” said Hernando. They unplugged their dicks from my holes, and switched positions. Every now and then their broken English would turn into Spanish. I was sure it was something dirty. I kept hearing the word “puto” I wasn’t sure, but I thought it meant “pussy.” I rocked myself on Hernando’s cock. The crown of Armando’s dick grazed my tonsils. The stench of his rank pubes stung my senses. Without warning—as if I was expecting a heads-up—Armando came in my mouth. Cum spattered from the corners of my lips.

  “Watch my shoes, man,” he said as he pulled away. He aimed that crazy dick of his to the ground. Thick, milky streams of cum plopped in the dirt. I could feel some of it seeping down my chin. When Armando was done, he cheered Hernando on. I could smell Hernando’s hot-house shit breath in my face as he took it out on my ass. They treated me like a whore, and I fucking loved it.

  Uhhh…uhhh…uhhh!” he grunted. Hernando was breeding my ass. He lay on top of me, pressing me against the cold earth, his dick still hard up my hole. Hernando slowly lifted himself off me when he was done. I rolled over and stared into the sky chockfull of stars. My throat was sore, and I was sure my ass would feel the same for days.

  “We better not see you here again, amigo,” Armando warned.

  “Or we’ll get a few of our homies and run a train on your ass,” said Hernando. I brushed the dirt off and got dressed. I started in the direction of the honking cars. I didn’t look back. I was afraid that if I did, there would be a gang of them behind me all wanting a taste of what Hernando and Armando had. I got home and jumped in the shower. As bubbles from the soap washed down my fucked ass, I wondered how soon I would revisit that infamous trailer park, once my ass was up for another good gang banging.

  Second Stall for a Blow Job

  Derrick Summer

  So I’m sitting in a Barnes & Noble café sipping on my caramel ribbon crunch frappuccino when this young ruffian of a white boy with short dark hair walks past me. Damn, he’s fine, I think to myself. He’s wearing a white tank top, baggy, tattered denim shorts and black-and-white Nikes. He looks to be some street punk between the ages of twenty and twenty-four. He walks past me toward the men’s room. This boy is enough to send my dick to twit
ching in my navy drawstring cargo shorts. It’s telling me to go after this twink. The last dick I sucked belonged to this Daddy bear I blew in on of the booths at Greg’s Video. He had enough meat to feed a Castro of faggots. I was long overdue for some blow-job action. Next to eating ass and getting fucked, I live for sucking dick. I don’t care if it’s five inches or fifteen as long as it gets hard. I am a “slut personified” according to my profile on Grindr that was listed under a salacious pic of me sticking my tongue out that launched men to send me messages like, nice tongue or I can think of a few ideas of what I would like you to do with that hot tongue of yours. Men from Key West to Japan sending me dick pics with lines like, wish you were here to suck this.

  I didn’t mind the attention I was getting. I was flattered by the shit, honestly.

  I flip closed the latest issue of Interview, gulped down my fancy sugared iced coffee and make a beeline for the men’s room after realizing that the punk is in the shitter for more than a minute, the time it takes for someone to take a piss. The hinges scream as I push open the dark green door. My body is throbbing with excitement at the likelihood that I’m going to have this punk’s dick in my mouth. I always make sure I sit near the men’s room to keep an eye out for gorgeous men who frequent the bookstore from Legends, a gym across the street from the mall. My eyes would fill with visions of pecs, abs and firm gym asses in basketball shorts, and dicks that would press against supple nylon. I see the set of black and white Nikes occupying the first stall, those baggy shorts cinched down around the punk’s ankles. My dick hardens to the mere sight of his feet, with imaginings of sniffing the punk’s dirty sneaks while jacking off. Yeah. That’s the freak-nasty kind of thinking that I do. Filthy fuck.