Funny Bone

by Daniel W. Kelly

  There was a choking, muffled shriek. Contadino groaned as Moose’s tonsils danced over his shaft. Then there was silence, and Contadino looked down to see Moose’s head rolling slackly to the side. His eyes were closed, and his jaw had become exceptionally loose.

  “Lord have mercy, this ass is the tightest thing I’ve ever had!” Rodriguez gasped as he pushed in all the way up to his smooth balls.

  “Rod, I think the fucker passed out,” Contadino said, looking down at Moose’s still head in confusion as it hung from his cock like a hat on a coat rack.

  “Ew! That’s like necrophilia!” Rodriguez cried, freezing. “Quick, Con! Wake him up! Fuck that air hole good!”

  Contadino hurriedly held the head up straight, gyrating deep while Rodriguez began to pull slowly out of the vise grip that was Moose’s ass, damaging the pure, flawless entrance. It worked like a charm. Moose almost immediately began choking on Contadino’s cock and his eyes opened, scanning up to Contadino as his insides were violated by Rodriguez. Contadino and Rodriguez both sighed with relief that they’d resurrected him.

  “Sweet, kid. You’re giving Rod a piece of your heaven,” Contadino reminded him. His seductive words implanted the thought into Moose’s head that he was making the gorgeous Latin stud happy. That and the promise of the clothes dangling above compelled him to bear the harsh pain. It made him embrace the pleasuring his asshole could do, which, in turn, made it relent somewhat. The abrasive penetration against his inner walls was still severe, but it was starting to feel so right. He began to whimper around Contadino’s cock.

  “He’s liking it.” Rodriguez smirked at Contadino over Moose’s arched back. “This piece was made for fucking. Guess they are born that way.”

  Rodriguez stretched his arm and grabbed the bottle of hand lotion he’d thrown onto the cot and flipped it, allowing thick streams of the cool whiteness to drizzle over the large vein of his shaft as he pulled almost all the way out of Moose’s tightness. The formerly tiny hole was now a circle of sore, swollen, bright red skin.

  “You ain’t a virgin no more, Caboose,” Rodriguez said, slapping his palms on either mound and pushing them down and apart. He kicked his legs back and stood on the toes of his boots, leaning in like he was doing a push-up, and then thrust his hips up and down. He threw his head back and closed his deep dark eyes, his perfectly straining upper muscles glistening with sweat. He cheered, “All aboard the Moose Caboose!”

  Contadino could see Moose’s eyes bugging out as they looked over the waves of muscle and hair on his torso and up into his eyes with shock at the pounding he was suddenly receiving. Moose’s bulky body supported the entire weight of Rodriguez coming down on him.

  “He’s lovin’ you good with that big dick,” Contadino said almost soothingly, running his hands over Moose’s near-bald head as he continued to thrust his cock into Moose’s mouth. “You gonna let me enjoy your warmness, too?”

  Moose nodded as much as possible with the big uncut cock jammed down his throat. And then he was squealing and had to dismount his head from Contadino’s hardness, which came out covered in saliva. Turning to Rodriguez, he cried, “What are you DOING to me!”

  Rodriguez had built his thrusts into a frenzy as he came close to exploding. While seeking only his own pleasure, he had unintentionally begun to work Moose’s guts into spasms of stimulation.

  Contadino furrowed his brow, freaked out by the sexual energy that permeated the air. “What’s happening, man?”

  Moose’s face was so red, his blue eyes so swollen in shock he looked like he was going to pop. “Cont…what’s he…uh!…Uhn!….AAH!…AAH!” He sounded like he was having an asthma attack. His pupils glazed over as he stared with frozen emotions at the sculpted, hair-covered body of Contadino, who was watching in confusion.

  “Dischargin’!” Rodriguez bellowed, his guttural groans echoing through the rafters that still held Moose’s clothes. His hands dug savagely into the meaty flesh of Moose’s caboose.

  Beneath him, Moose’s throat locked as the heft inside him expanded even larger and a tickle of wet warmth splattered against his innards.

  Moose and Rodriquez began to gasp for air, their chests heaving. Rodriguez pushed off Moose’s ass, his sweat dripping in large drops all over Moose’s chunky cheeks.

  “What the fuck happened?” Contadino asked from the other side of the cot.

  “Finish…the bitch…off,” Rodriguez said between huffs of breath as he dropped to his cot and closed his eyes. “His ass…did stuff to my dick…damn!”

  That’s all Contadino needed to hear. He lined up behind Moose, who was draped weakly over the cot, but whose ass was still swelling up and out.

  Contadino looked at the crimson flesh trying to contract back to normal size between Moose’s cheeks, smears of hand lotion causing white snowdrifts on the abused surface. He found the bottle of lotion and dressed the top of his long shaft like it was a hot dog onto which he was squirting mustard. He shot more lotion into that tempting hairless entrance, then slipped right in.

  Moose moaned, not moving as he was filled with an extra two inches of length and one inch of girth by the larger of the two large men.

  “Sweet ASS!” Work that magic on my cock too, Moose,” Contadino said.

  “Um. Okay,” Moose said, unsure of what magic powers he had. Neither ass-hungry top understood that the contractions were completely out of Moose’s control, that it was their own penetration that caused the muscle spasms. Contadino instinctively began working for it, building Moose back up to that point of no return.

  Moose, fingers digging into the blanket draped over his cot, peered over his shoulder, up the steep slope of his thick back, and to the two monstrous mountains into which Contadino was drilling. From this perspective, he at last could fully appreciate how he got a nickname like “Moose Caboose,” and suddenly, he totally realized that his huge ass was a huge asset. If properly appreciated, it could bring him pleasure beyond anything he could get from just yanking on his cock for the sake of the discharge. Veins popped out in his forehead as his sphincter muscles tried to eat up the tingle of the intrusion. His gut muscles strained to accommodate the in-and-out visitor.

  “I…got…a sweet…asssssss!” he hissed as he shoved his face into the cot to hold himself up and reached his hands back to pull his cheeks apart.

  From the sidelines, Rodriguez couldn’t control his laughter at the comment.

  “You’re liking this shit, ain’tcha?” Contadino glared down at Moose as his camouflaged hips danced rhythmically, his face ruddy like when he was pounding out presses in the gym. His teeth were grinding together intensely as he power pumped.

  It was like Contadino’s huge dick head was punching a hole in Moose’s nerve endings. Moose’s body worked of its own accord, not checking in with his brain for approval or permission. His cock convulsed and his entire groin area clenched. Cum drenched the cot between his thighs.

  “Good Christ ALMIGHTY!” Contadino growled, his dick vise-gripped by Moose’s tunnel. All he could manage were short, quick, uncontrolled thrusts as he secreted slick semen two inches deeper into Moose’s loins than Rodriquez had. “DISCHARGE!”

  The still interlocked men didn’t have time to catch their breath before they heard the angry words spoken from behind them.

  “Houston. We’ve got a PROBLEM. Make that THREE problems!”

  The trio turned to the furious scowl of the command sergeant, standing in the door of the barracks, arms crossed. A surprise visit. They gasped in terrified realization, and they chorused a single word.

  “Discharge.”

  Trash Talk

  When the Redneck walked into the vaguely clean restroom at an off-the-beaten-path rest stop, he saw a guy standing at one of the urinals who must belong to the only other vehicle outside.

  He took in the flanneled, burly back and faded jeans as he moved to the urinal next to the guy, right alongside the first wall of the stalls. He placed his beer bottle on top of the ur
inal and began to do his business. Turning slightly to the guy next to him, he tapped the bill of his cap with one finger and said, “What’s up?”

  The other guy just nodded and said a quick, “Howdy.”

  The Redneck carefully cast his eyes down to get a look at what the other guy was packing (or unpacking in this case). In an attempt to mask his intentions, he struck up a little conversation that was sure to camouflage what he was doing. “Gettin’ back from a haul into the big city. Place is filled with faggots. Don’t see nothin’ like that in these parts.”

  The other guy zipped up his pants and, without looking at the Redneck, squirted out three words around his chewing tobacco. “Got that right.”

  With that, he was gone, not even washing his hands before leaving the restroom.

  The Redneck finished taking care of his business, then walked over to the sink. After taking a sip of his beer and placing it on the counter, he looked at his well tanned, scruffy baby face, removed his cap and used his beer bottle as a hat stand, and splashed cold water on his face. It caused his beady blue eyes to sparkle with life. He pushed his wet hands through his wavy locks of golden hair and put his cap back on before wiping his hands dry on his ripped and worn jeans and drying his face on the shoulder of his sleeveless flannel shirt. As he glanced back up in the mirror, he nearly jumped out of his skin. “What the fuck?”

  Standing behind him was a large brown-bearded man in nothing but work boots, a baseball cap, stained white wife-beater that clung to his chunky chest and belly, and a white jockstrap that had seen better—and whiter—days. He was sneering with cold eyes at the Redneck while pinching huge nipples that pushed at the taut fabric of the wife-beater. As the Redneck swiftly spun around, the man turned profile in the mirror and struck the infamous Bigfoot striding pose, revealing a swelling furry ass. He snarled, “Caution. White Trash Faggot Crossing.”

  The Redneck tried to hastily make for the nearby exit, his eyes down.

  The White Trash Faggot grabbed the collar of the Redneck’s shirt and dragged him back in, slamming his lean and wiry body against the sink. They were both about the same height, so the White Trash Faggot glared into his eyes. “You got a problem with faggots?”

  The Redneck leaned his messy gold whiskers away from the thick brown beard that was only inches away, broke contact with the green eyes penetrating his, and muttered, “No.”

  Leaning in so his big belly would ram into the Redneck’s taut torso, the White Trash Faggot grabbed the Redneck’s beer off the counter and took a sip from it. “Really? Because that’s not what I heard when I was lookin’ at your big inbred mongoloid dick through that hole there.”

  The White Trash Faggot pointed to the stall wall with the tip of the beer bottle.

  The Redneck followed the direction until he saw a jagged hole of about three inches in diameter. It was right in the center of the wall, at just about the level his crotch had been at the urinal. There was only one way he could have missed the horrible invasion of his privacy; he had been too distracted peeking over the lip of his neighbor’s urinal invading his privacy. Trying to wet his cottonmouth with his tongue, which longed for a swig of beer, he witnessed the White Trash Faggot rubbing the base of the bottle against one knobby nipple. As much as he wanted that beer back, he said, “I gotta get back on the road.”

  The White Trash Faggot pressed the tip of the beer bottle against the Redneck’s lips. “You got a real perty mouth. You perty all over. But you keep drinking this shit, you’ll get a belly.”

  The White Trash Faggot rubbed the hairy belly that was hanging out from the bottom of the way-too-small wife-beater. His belly button was a black hole of hair that bounced up and down as he jiggled his beer gut.

  “You can have it.” The Redneck was trying to play nice with the bear he’d just run into in the woods by using honey as a decoy. “I didn’t like the taste anyway.”

  The White Trash Faggot raised one thick brown eyebrow. “No? Maybe it didn’t ferment enough. Like this.”

  The White Trash Faggot lifted his meaty arm and took a whiff of his armpit, then began lapping at the bush of hair with his tongue. He pushed his fluffy pit toward the Redneck’s face. “Strong. Pungent. You wanna taste?”

  The Redneck did a poor job of quickly refusing. He leaned slightly back against the sink and finally responded with a short, “No.”

  “What, you like it harder? Somethin’ with more spice?” The White Trash Faggot grabbed the substantial crotch of the Redneck’s jeans. “Cause I know how we can make it taste even better, and I bet you’ll really like it.”

  Without hesitating, the White Trash Faggot turned around and bent over, sticking his ass out. The bands of the jockstrap that framed the moon appeared miniscule, for the ass was nearly two feet wide. Stitching stretched to near tearing. However, the sight did make the jockstrap seem a much brighter shade of white, on account of the complementary contrasting coating of dark fur. The swelling ass had the Redneck pinned against the sink.

  “Pull them ass cheeks apart,” the White Trash Faggot said over his shoulder.

  The Redneck pulled his hands tight up to his chest and tried to back even closer to the sink, but he was out of room.

  “Do it, hick!” the White Trash Faggot growled.

  The Redneck hesitated, then slowly reached his hands down, not showing the kind of disgust he should as he grabbed the hairy mounds of muscle-flab with his open palms and pushed them apart. As hairy as the ass was, the valley between was surprisingly hairless, revealing a one-inch long ass slot in the center.

  The White Trash Faggot brought the beer bottle between his legs and began to poke the ass slot with the tip of the bottle, running it along the smooth perimeter. “Aah. A nice cold one.”

  Before the Redneck could determine where this was going, the White Trash Faggot stood up and turned to face him, bringing the bottle to the Redneck’s mouth. “Here, try it now.”

  When the Redneck attempted to close his lips, the White Trash Faggot simply ran the lip of the bottle along the sealed surface. Finally, he grabbed the thick gold locks at the back of the Redneck’s head and weaseled the bottle top around until the Redneck had no choice but to let it puncture his tightened lips. “Come on. Open that perty mouth. That’s it. Right there. Taste that. How’s that. Tastes good, right? Beer fresh from the bung hole.”

  The Redneck nodded and began to suck and lick the top of the bottle.

  Before he could get too into it, the White Trash Faggot pulled the bottle away. “You licked off all the flavor. You wanna give it some extra flavor for me?”

  The Redneck’s lip curled into a sneer as he took the offered bottle. “Yeah. I’ll try it. Now you pull them ass cheeks apart.”

  The White Trash Faggot sneered right back and immediately turned, bent over, and yanked his monster cheeks in either direction.

  The Redneck placed the tip of the bottle against the exposed hole and did as he’d watched the White Trash Faggot do, rubbing the bottle lip against and around it.

  The White Trash Faggot smiled. “That’s right. Roll it in the flavor. Now let the white trash faggot try some.”

  The Redneck wrapped his arm around the White Trash Faggot’s thick thigh and held the bottle out so the White Trash Faggot could deep throat it, the brown beer bottle disappearing into the center of the brown bear beard.

  “Lemme get some more,” the Redneck said, taking the bottle away.

  “I knew you’d like it. Enjoy,” the White Trash Faggot said, reaching his hands back and once again holding his cheeks apart.

  The Redneck was a quick learner, swirling the tip of the bottle around that hole, making it dance, then going down on the bottle to lap up the flavor. He did it repeatedly, and each time he returned the bottleneck to the hole, he would give the bottle a little nudge and sink it slightly deeper into the pulsating hole. Finally, he was able to slip it right in. The White Trash Faggot moaned with a pleasant sigh.

  “You takin’ half the bottle,�
� the Redneck said with wonder as the neck of the bottle widened while the length of the bottle shrank as it disappeared into the White Trash Faggot ass. The Redneck tipped the bottle, letting the beer inside spill into the White Trash Faggot’s ass.

  “I bet that makes you wanna stick your big mongoloid dick in me, right? Ain’t that what you inbreeds like to do to teach us cocksuckers a lesson?”

  “Yeah. I wanna fuck the faggot outta ya,” the Redneck said, pulling the bottleneck out of the hole with a loud wet pop. “Get down there on the floor.”

  The White Trash Faggot dropped his heft to his knees and his hands to the floor, and assumed the doggy position, although his swollen roundness more closely resembled the body of a hog. “Come on, fill up my trash can.”

  He wiggled that great big white trash can, causing the fuzzy flesh to jiggle.

  The Redneck unzipped his jeans and whipped out his thick and long uncut cock, which was at full hardness. He stroked the foreskin up and down it as he moved in, then dropped to his knees and said, “I’m gonna fuck that sweet beer-filled bung hole.”

  He parted the cheeks and looked at the slot, which was now sloppy wet with beer foam that was trickling out. It was all the lubricant he needed. He grabbed two nice chunky love handles and steered the ass right onto his cock.

  “Oh yeeeaaaaaah!” the White Trash Faggot barked ferociously as he was completely plugged up, the beer in his butt jostling about like a tidal wave as it made space for the huge cock.

  “You got a nice wet hole,” the Redneck moaned, trying to grasp at any romantic sentiment that sounded vaguely heterosexual.

  But the White Trash Faggot wasn’t going to let him get away with claiming stake to any kind of “normalcy.” “Come on! Fuck me like you fuck your farm animals!”

  The White Trash Faggot wildly wiggled his big bouncing ass on the cock as he rested on his elbows so he could cross his arms and yank on his swollen teats. His suggestion seemed to bring back fond memories for the Redneck.