Poolside Plantings

Los Angeles was 100 miles away, but it might as well have been 10,000 miles. I was finally relaxed. Someone in the hot tub commented that I had a nice smile. I don’t think I’d smiled for years.

After endless years on contract at MGM, I was finally able to take a vacation. The contract expired. I had saved enough to live for a few years if I chose not to work again. This trip to Palm Springs was quite literally what the doctor ordered. My blood pressure was through the roof. I was starved of vitamin D. Basking in the sunshine in my speedo I could feel my skin drinking in the light. That’s when I saw Bailey.

The clothing-optional resort catered only to men. The owner was queer, as were all his clientele. Nobody was required to wear clothing. This meant that the employees of the resort had to be comfortable working around a bunch of naked gay men. Bailey was the new groundskeeper. He was so good looking, he had to dress ugly on purpose. He as over six feet tall, with dirty blonde hair. He wore coke bottle glasses and a thick mustache, hiding his handsome face. Every time he moved, his muscles threatened to burst through the fabric of his clothes. I was surrounded by a crowd of mostly naked men, but all I saw was Bailey, bending to pick up a pot of geraniums. Even from behind, I could see the outline of his cock running down the inside of the left leg of his jeans.

I’m a bottom by design, not by choice. My fat cock looks good in a swimsuit. It attracts a lot of curious men, anxious to take a ride. Once it comes out of the swimsuit and swells to full size, they walk away. Unless they’re very experienced, they know they can’t do a thing. If I’m lucky, they’re versatile, and I get a good ass fucking. In Los Angeles, they’re usually 100% bottom with zero interest in giving me the pleasure they’d hoped to reap from me.

Bailey didn’t seem to notice my huge bulge. He kept at his job, patiently planting pansies and geraniums in terra cotta pots. I had to walk past him to get to my room, and I needed to pee. With my fat cock crammed into speedos, I wiggled and walked to my room. I nodded at Bailey and said, “Hi.”

Bailey looked up, pushed his thick glasses to his forehead, and smiled. “Hey man.” His voice was deep. It made me shiver.

He went back to planting. I took a piss in the room and stuffed everything back carefully, to hide as much as I could. I know very little about gardening, but I do know that geraniums are perennials in Los Angeles. Palm Springs has different weather. He was right outside my door, potting geraniums.

“I thought geraniums were perennials.”

Bailey looked up with a serious expression. “Not in the Springs. By August these’ll be crispy.” He stood and wiped his hands on his jeans.

“Bailey.” I took his meaty palm in mine. It was cracked and rough.

“Peter.”

We stood silently for what felt like an eternity but was most likely about ten seconds. Bailey licked his lips.

“We ain’t allowed in the guest’s rooms.”

“Are we allowed in yours?”

When he was done planting for the day, Bailey stowed away the wheelbarrow and tools. I was lying by the pool, my fat, throbbing meat wrapped in spandex. I saw silent whispers between guests, some of whom stared unabashedly at my hard-on. Every time Bailey bent to put away a tool I got harder. I didn’t know what would happen between us, but I knew I was going to like it. Bailey closed up the garden shed and padlocked it.

He whispered. “I’m in 46. Wait five minutes.” Bailey walked with a bit of a limp. I could see his massive cock trapped in his jeans. I suppose the rest of the resort could see it too. It was impossible to miss, just like mine.

Before I could knock, Bailey whisked me inside. He planted his lips on mine, his tongue gently exploring my mouth. I pushed back, tasting his toffee-scented breath. I put a hand on his inner thigh, rubbing the long log of flesh that throbbed and strained against the denim. He reciprocated, caressing my cock through the strained fabric of my swimsuit until it stuck out like a tent pole. It was thick as a beer can.

Bailey knelt and freed my fatty from its prison. His bing hands held it. The fingers couldn’t touch. He buried his lips in my foreskin and tongued the tip. I’m a shower and a grower. It got bigger. His eyes widened. I waited for the familiar rejection.

“You’re like me!” He stood. After getting the waist past his protruding ass, he lowered his jeans to his knees to free the monster. It lifted to a 90-degree angle, poking my belly button. His cock was longer than mine, but it was the same size around, like two soup cans stacked on each other. Bailey held me close. My cock went between his legs, while his pressed to his chest, rising past the nipple line. I only needed to lower my head to lick the tip. He shivered.

I said, “Bailey, I’ve never been with someone as big as you. I’m not sure I can take it.”

He grinned. “Me neither.” I wasn’t sure if he meant he didn’t know if he could take me or if I could take him. Turned out it was both.

Bailey said, “Pete, you wanna try fucking me?” I hadn’t fucked anyone since high school. I was just too big. Yes, I wanted to try fucking him. But I knew it was hopeless. Still, I nodded.

“I gotta prepare.” He went to the bathroom. The door was open; I saw him in the mirror. He douched, then he took some diet pills out of the cabinet and crushed them with a glass. He caught my eye in the mirror.

“You want some? It makes it easier.” He snorted some with a short straw. I took the straw and inhaled the bitter powder. At first I felt nothing. Then I heard a ringing in my ears. My cock got so hard I thought it would explode.

Bailey climbed up on the bed, wriggling his muscled ass. I licked the musky hole. The scent drove me wild. I lapped and sucked and licked, forcing my tongue deeper into his hole. It was surprisingly loose. His cock hung down like an udder. I milked it while I sucked, stretching his balls until the tip of his cock leaked pre-cum. I caught the pre-cum on my tongue and licked his hole, tasting the salty dribble as it worked its way into his hole.

Bailey moaned. “Oh, Peter. Fuck me. Fuck me.” He handed me a jar of Albolene. I slicked up my cock with the grease and spit on it. I spit in my greasy hand a few times and wiped Bailey’s hole with the mixture.

“You ready?”

He nodded. He picked up a little glass vial and popped it, inhaling the fumes. He handed it to me. I inhaled, and my whole world throbbed. I knelt over Bailey, who lay prostrate on his mattress. I lined my cock head up with his hole. Letting gravity do some of the work, I pushed until the very tip entered the warm hole. Bailey popped another vial.

“Quick! Now!”

I watched my cock head as his hole swallowed it up. I could swear he was pulling me inside him. Once the head was in, the rest of the fuck was a straight shot. My hips pressed against his round buttocks. I was inside a man for the first time in years. I nearly cried.

I was so surprised and excited, I wasn’t able to hold back for very long. Twenty or thirty good strokes and I shot my load up inside him. I pulled out my dripping cock, wiping the excess cum on his backside.

Bailey rolled over and smiled. “Your turn.”

I didn’t think I could take it. I’d been fucked three ways to Sunday but never by a man as big and thick as Bailey. He used greasy fingers to stretch my hole. I felt him press against my prostate and jumped. He fingered me there again and again, watching me thrash with ecstasy.

As much as it took me to grease up my own pole, it was nothing to the amount of Albolene that Bailey needed to lube up his. He spit over and over, polishing his huge cock until it shined. He flipped me onto my back, holding my legs on his shoulders, and handed me another glass ampoule.

I popped the glass, and just as I began inhaling, I felt blinding pain in my nether regions. The poppers made my muscles relax, but they didn’t take away the pain. Bailey forced himself halfway in, until his cock rammed against the end of my rectum. He leaned over and kissed me. He pushed hard as he lifted my left side close to him. Suddenly, his cock popped through an opening I knew well. He was in my colon now. He held the poppers to my nose and pushed again. With a loud smack, his hips hit my butt.

I recognized the tears of joy in his eyes. He probably hadn’t been inside anyone either. I lifted my head, watching in fascination as the huge cock slid in and out of me. Bailey’s rhythm became a locomotive, speeding up with each stroke until he was a jackhammer.

“Oh fuck! Jesus Christ! Fucking fuck!” My eyes rolled into my head. I couldn’t see, only feel. It was terrible pain mixed with a pleasure so sublime, it was worth any amount of pain. I felt completely filled with flesh on the in-stroke, and terribly empty on the out-stroke. Over and over he pounded me until I lost the power of speech. I moaned softly. Bailey kissed me, holding my shoulders against the bed so he could fuck even harder.

“I’m gonna plant my seed in you.” It was funny, coming from a gardener. I nodded weakly.

He threw his head back and gave a quiet shout. I felt a warm flood fill my insides. As Bailey fucked, filling my lower digestive tract, there was nowhere for the cum to go. It shot past his cock, out of my hole, staining the bed. He collapsed on top of me. I held his muscular ass, marveling how it had accepted my fat cock just minutes earlier. Next it was the powerhouse that drove his violent thrusts.

The diet pills were doing their job. I was rock hard, throbbing against Bailey’s belly button. He winked.

“Something’s up, eh?”

I nodded.

“I think we’ll have a whole garden planted by the end of the night.” He was right.

Under the Boardwalk

This scene is from a novel-in-progress set at the Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk, and also underneath it. Harry, a smooth young man with a very small penis envies guys with hairy bodies and big cocks. When he meets Cleve, a super-hung sex machine, Harry learns his mouth and his ass are vital sex organs that many men want!

* * *

Since he was old enough to stand, Harry’s favorite place on Earth was the Santa Cruz Boardwalk. Every summer, he and his parents stayed at a motel near the beach called the Sandpiper Inn. He heard the sound of the rollercoaster roaring long past his bedtime. The room was lit by the flashing lights and neon glow of the amusement park. Despite many troubles and unhappy times, the weekend at the beach was always a sanctuary for Harry. It was something he could rely on for most of his childhood.

When Harry applied to UC Berkeley, he was deferred to UC Santa Cruz. His mother and father didn’t have a lot of extra money, so he was going to have to work. Like a fool, he chose to work on the boardwalk, thinking it would be the most fun anyone could have. He found out quickly that visiting an amusement park is very different from working there. His eyes were opened to the terrible people of the world who lived to make minimum wage employees suffer. It was a rude awakening.

Even though he was nearly a man, Harry still had the skin of a child. Despite his name, he was hairless and smooth. He looked at envy at the boys around him whose chest hair had sprouted. He also had determined that he was less than gifted in between his legs. His hairless pubic mound was topped by a thumb-sized penis that hardened but never really grew.

Working at the boardwalk, you had to leave your uniform in your designated locker each night. This meant changing out of his civilian jeans and t-shirt at the start of the shift and changing back at the end. Harry wore boxer shorts to keep the mystery of his tiny penis from being revealed.

Many of the guys liked to shower before the shift. Harry wished he had the courage to join them, but he was too ashamed of his hairless body and tiny penis. To make matters worse, ever since puberty he had stopped thinking about girls and all his fantasies were centered around hairy men.

Lost in one such fantasy, he was startled out of his reverie by a colossal hunk of a security guard.

“Oh, sorry bro. My locker’s right next to yours. Do you mind?”

Harry shook his head and looked at the floor. The security guard stuck out a hand.

“Name’s Cleve.”

“Harry.”

Cleve guffawed. “Not really living up to your name, eh?” Cleve thwacked a meaty paw on Harry’s chest.

Harry looked up at his tormentor. The security guard wore thick horn-rimmed glasses. His hair was cut military style. His jaw was square, and his arms were like long, furry balloons with bulging biceps. A thick thatch of chest hair sprouted out of the collar of his t-shirt. Harry swallowed.

Cleve stammered. “I mean, sorry man if that was out of line.”

Harry smiled. “It’s no problem. I’m probably too sensitive about it.”

Cleve grinned. “You hitting the showers?” As he asked, he stripped off his jeans and t-shirt, revealing his gloriously furry muscular form. Cleve hitched his thumbs in the waistband of his jockey shorts and peeled them off, revealing a powerful set of glutes and a monster-sized dick.

Harry said, “S-sure. Yeah.” He let his boxers drop, waiting for more humiliation.

Instead, Cleve leaned in. “God damn, I like the little ones.” With that, he threw a towel over his shoulder and strutted to the showers, his massive dong swinging from thigh to thigh. Harry wrapped his towel around his waist and scampered after him.

They were the only two in the showers. Cleve waited for Harry to pick a shower head, then took the one right next to him.

“Do you like to fuck?” Cleve didn’t pull any punches.

Harry blushed. “I think so, yeah.”

Cleve said, “Oh my god, are you a virgin?”

Harry turned a darker shade of crimson.

“No, no, don’t sweat it dude. I’m an expert. Breaking in virgins is my favorite.”

Harry was done being ashamed. “With that big thing?”

Cleve wasn’t bothered. “Yeah. I’m like the John Bonham of ass fucking. It’s a gift.”

Harry was hard as a rock. Cleve reached across and rubbed Harry’s glorified clit. “Oh, I’ll bet you come like a sprinkler.”

It was true. Harry’s bedroom walls at home needed regular cleaning. His dorm room was a double, so he rarely got a chance to get off.

Cleve asked, “Do you live nearby?”

Harry shook his head. “I’m up at the college.”

Cleve said, “A banana slug. Nice. I live in Aptos. With my folks.”

Harry looked at the bodybuilder who had to be almost thirty. “Do you like living at home?”

Cleve laughed. “Hell no! But this shit job doesn’t pay enough for an apartment. I’m saving up.”

Harry looked between Cleve’s legs. The man’s cock was nearly double the size now, and standing at a 45 degree angle. It was too heavy to stand tall.

A few more people came in. Harry turned away, but Cleve just stood there, grinning, while the other guys checked out his semi. Nobody in there could hold a candle to Cleve.

“Come on, Harry, our shift doesn’t start for another twenty minutes. Let me show you something.”

Wrapped in his towel Cleve led Harry to a stairwell going into the dark.

“What is this place?”

Cleve smiled. “Under the Boardwalk.”

The dark cave at the bottom of the stairs smelled of body fluids and ass sweat. Cleve held up a bottle of baby oil.

“I keep this down here for just such an emergency.” He knelt, putting his mustache on Harry’s virgin ass. His tongue darted in and out of the tight pink hole. Harry couldn’t believe how good it felt.

“Oh, shit.”

Cleve didn’t say anything; he just kept slobbering and kissing the hole until it was slippery. They lay flat in a sixty-nine, Cleve underneath Harry, licking his asshole. Harry took the first couple of inches of Cleve’s thick cock in his mouth. When Cleve pushed deeper, Harry coughed. The slick saliva coated Cleve’s cock, making it slippery. It was easier and easier for Cleve to push his way past Harry’s tonsils. And each time Harry gagged, the cock got more and more slippery.

Cleve coated Harry’s ass in baby oil and used the rest to lubricate his cock. With his powerful arms, he came to a sitting position, and held Harry dangling just above his cock. Harry steadied himself by holding on to Cleve’s massive shoulders.

In a gentle motion, Cleve lowered Harry down onto the throbbing head of his cock. Harry felt the tip go in. It didn’t hurt even a little, so he breathed a sigh of relief. Then Harry lowered him another inch. Suddenly, Harry’s ass was on fire. But just as quickly, Cleve lifted him off.

“It gets better, I promise.” He thrust upward, forcing his head past the sphincter. There was a loud pop as Harry’s shitter closed around the thin space below the corona.

Cleve held the boy. “Are you good?”

Harry nodded. “Is it in?”

Cleve said, “A little bit.” At the same time, he lowered Harry downward, stopping only when the fat head hit the bottom of Harry’s rectum.

“Ooooowww!” Harry tried to stand up, but Cleve’s powerful arms held him in place.

“Just count backwards from ten. Out loud. Let me hear you.”

Harry struggled, but he started counting. By the time he reached four, it didn’t hurt. In fact, it felt good.

Cleve said, “Okay, just one more thing.” He tilted Harry to the left, and thrust upwards. With another loud pop, Cleve forced his way into Harry’s sigmoid colon.

Harry cried, but the pain subsided quickly. Now he was completely filled with Cleve’s giant cock.

In a movement out of Olympic wrestling, Cleve whirled Harry around so he was on all fours doggy style. Then the fucking started.

Cleve’s fat cock pressed up against the prostate gland. Harry’s little penis drooled sticky precum all over the filthy, sandy floor under the boardwalk. Cleve cupped his hand like he was drinking from a mountain stream.

“Sweet boy cum. Makes me fucking horny!” He picked up the pace of the fucking, holding Harry around the hips to keep him from flying forward.

Harry had attained nirvana. He groaned softly, taking tiny gulps of air to keep from passing out from the pleasure. Each time Cleve pounded in, Harry felt filled to the totality of his being. On each out stroke, it was a sense of relief like when taking a massive shit. The strokes grew longer and longer, until pretty soon the bodybuilder could pull all the way out before plunging easily back in through the loose hole that had once been Harry’s anus. In those moments, Harry felt cool ocean air blowing through the gap.

“You won’t hear your farts for a month, but it’ll be worth it.”

Something about the cockiness with which Cleve said it made Harry shoot a load. He shot his wad on the ground so hard, it splattered onto Cleve’s balls and knees.

“Oh fuck yeah, kid. That’s so fucking hot.” Harry felt Cleve fondle his little bits, before slurping the juice from his hand. The action was so depraved and sexy, it made Harry hard again.

Cleve slapped his ass once, twice, three times. “You like it, don’t you Harry?”

Harry was well beyond the use of words, so he just moaned appreciatively.

“Yeah. I’m gonna fuck your little ass again and again. You won’t walk right.”

Again, the dirty talk made Harry come. Again, Cleve slurped it up in his hand.

“You come like a bitch. I’m giving you multiple orgasms, right?”

Harry nodded. Cleve started to take smaller strokes.

“Oh fuck, man, I’m close.”

“Come inside me.” Harry wanted the man’s cum deep inside his guts.

Cleve said, “Okay, hang on.” He grabbed Harry’s hair and pulled his head back. “You like that?”

“Yes, sir.”

Cleve let go of the hair and grabbed the boy by the hands, pulling him close so he could fuck with abandon. The popping sound grew louder as Cleve’s fat head poked past the rectum over and over, harder and harder.

“Oh shit, Harry. I’m gonna fucking come. I’m gonna fucking come. I’m gonna…”

Harry felt a warm tide flowing deep inside him. Cleve made animal grunts. He let go of the boy’s arms, and collapsed on top of him, gyrating his hips to plant his seed as deep as possible. Harry felt Cleve’s hot breath on his neck. They stayed joined dick to ass for a few minutes until Harry couldn’t keep him inside any longer. In a long, slithering motion, Cleve’s soft cock snaked its way out of his insides, landing on the floor with a loud thwack. A small waterfall of cum gushed out of the gaping hole. Cleve licked the sticky hole until it snapped shut.

Harry turned to look at the man who took his virginity. He traced circles around the hairy nipples. Cleve took one hand and put it on his square jaw. They kissed. Harry tasted cum on Cleve’s breath.

Harry asked, “What’s next?”

Cleve laughed. “Show up early tomorrow, and you’ll find out.”

Hotshot – Free erotic ebook preview

From Peter: the following is the raw, unedited first chapter of an in-progress hot sexy novel about truckers. Although this is only one chapter, I’ve already written a dozen chapters and will probably wrap it up around twenty.

It will be interesting for anyone wanting to learn how to write an erotic story. You may find typographical errors, grammatical mistakes, or run-on sentences. There are many ways to write, but my preferred method is to do lots of research up front, then write through without stopping to make a lot of corrections. I do stop to conduct further research as needed. Once the story is told (and story is the most important piece), it can be edited. When editing, you make many different “passes” – one is for story structure and missing details, one is a pass to make the hot and sexy story hotter and sexier, one is for reducing overused words (penis, cock, huge, enormous, massive), one is for spelling and grammar, and the last pass is a polish – just tweaking anything that stands out.

The following first draft has had none of these passes. It’s an erotic story that flowed right out of the author’s head and onto the page after a lot of research into the trucking industry.

HOTSHOT

I saw the ad in “Trucker’s World” magazine at the Phillip’s 66 truck stop outside Pittsburgh, PA. It read:

“Wanted: Hotshot Oilfield drivers. Must have own truck with 4-ton hauling capacity. Will assist with commercial driver’s license. Contact Pittsburgh LEhigh-4-4367”.

My stepfather died the previous spring. He left me his International Harvester heavy duty C-series that carried up to 8,800 pounds. I had always thought I might make good use of it, and this ad seemed like a real concrete solution.

You might wonder what I was doing at a truck stop if I wasn’t a trucker. The truth is, I liked the food. Okay, that’s half of it. I also liked the scene in the hot showers. Long haul truckers use the showers after sleeping in the lot. The lot is a hotbed of prostitution, narcotics and vice. Sleeping in the truck stop parking lot is free. Breakfast is cheap. Showers are even cheaper, and they include a grubby threadbare towel and a small square of Ivory soap. The thriftiest of truckers don’t waste their money on a lot lizard; they let me blow them. If I got lucky, they’d even fuck me. So that’s the real reason I was at the truck stop. Now that I’ve confessed my own vice, I’m a bit hesitant to tell my name. But I’ll tell you. My name is Hugh Jayness, and I’m a homosexual.

Hotshot trucking was a brand new field. The shippers hired pickup trucks and trailers instead of big rigs. The turnaround time on a big rig could be a long while. The companies tended to wait until their trucks were at capacity before sending them out. A hotshot was smaller. They were ideal for jobs that required same-day or next-day turnaround. I’d often wondered who the truckers were driving their own pick-ups with a heavy load in tow. They were hotshots. And I wanted to be one of them. So I called the number.

“Avalon Trucking, how may I direct your call?”

“Uh, yeah, I’m calling about the ad in Trucker’s World.”

“One moment.”

A deep male voice came on the line. “Avalon, this is Mack.”

“Hi, Mack, I’m calling about the ad. I have a 5-ton pickup.”

“With a gooseneck hitch?”

I wasn’t sure. “Is that the ball thingy on the bumper?”

“Yeah, but we need it mounted in the truck bed.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“We can help with that. Can you come by for a quick interview?”

Avalon Trucking was in an industrial park on the floor of a smoggy valley. The red brick building looked gray from where I parked. The receptionist looked just like she sounded: plump and dowdy with a kind smile.

“Hugh? Go on in. Mack’s expecting you.” She sized me up with elevator eyes. “He’s definitely expecting you.”

Behind an oversized mahogany desk sat a man the size of a gorilla, but not quite as hairy. He chomped on an unlit cigar. He stood and extended a beefy paw across his desk.

“Hugh? Pleased to meet you. Sit. Sit.”

I sat, but he remained standing. With his hands on his hips, he looked to be six feet tall and five feet wide. Thick fur sprouted from his collar. His green eyes were fixed on me. He licked his lips.

I’m not a big guy in any way. I went to the YMCA to keep in shape, but it was hard for me to put on muscle. I’m 5’6”, and weigh 134 pounds. My dick is a little below average. Okay, a lot below average. I have a really big butt. When I was a 98 pound weakling in high school, the big kids used to beat the crap out of me. When the beatings started, I used to hate it. By the time I was in senior year, I’d discovered that all that attention was intoxicating. Then I made an even greater discovery: these guys beating me up really just wanted a blow job. Three bullies became regulars in the supply closet in the multi-purpose room. Sometimes I had to blow all three at once when they crashed my schedule. It was hard work, but I loved it.

So when I saw the way Mack looked at me, I recognized what was about to happen. I was excited, because he looked like a great fuck. I was disappointed, because I really wanted the job. I didn’t think he’d give it to me if we fucked.

“Hugh, can you lock the door?” Mack removed his tie and unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a carpet of fur covering what looked to be massive pectoral muscles and a round belly that had seen more than its fair share of French fries. He stood, revealing the motherlode. Below his belt was a tell-tale bulge that stretched down his right thigh. His piercing green eyes followed mine as I stared at the growing lump in his pants.

“Come here.”

I knelt at his feet. I unbuckled his belt and opened his fly. Most guys pop out when I do that. Not Mack. His cock was trapped in his right pant leg. On top of that, his ass was solid muscle and bigger than mine. I struggled to get them to slide over and down. At last, they came down. I gasped aloud when his cock finally came loose and smacked my chin. Even though it was plenty long, it was so thick it actually looked short. But when I put one hand around it, I saw five inches of flesh still exposed to the air.

“Get it good and wet, boy.”

I opened wide and forced the meat to the back of my throat. It was too thick to get past my tonsils. Or so I thought. Mack held the back of my head and forced me down until I felt my throat swell with his fat cock. I pulled back hard and coughed out a ball of phlegm, catching it in my hand. I slicked up the fat cock and jerked him for a minute before he pushed my face back down on his club-like cock. This time my throat was prepared and I went all the way, burying my nose in his dick whiskers.

“That’s the way, son. Let me fuck your throat.” He held my head and swiveled his hips, fucking my mouth like it was a woman. I tasted the salty drip that meant he was about to reward me with a mouthful of cum.

But then he bent and lifted me up, letting his fat cock fall out of my mouth and slap his thigh. Mack fumbled with my belt and tore at my fly, pulling my pants down roughly. He pushed me over the desk, then ripped a hole in my underwear before he knelt. His tongue on my hole was a rare treat. It was a big tongue with strong muscles. He forced his way into my hole and it actually hurt a little. There was no way I would be able to take his dick. I had been with a couple of above-average truckers, but nobody as hung as Mack was.

He grunted like a truffle-crazed hog as he probed my ass, making it slick with spit. He stood, his cock waving in the air, and opened his top right desk drawer, extracting a miniature tub of Vaseline. He wiped it on my asshole and spread some on his cock.

“You ready for this?”

I wasn’t. I nodded. I felt the fat head press between my chubby ass cheeks and knock on my back door. I pushed out, which allowed my hole to spread open a tiny bit. That was all he needed. In one swift shove, he put the whole giant head in my ass. I covered my mouth to keep from screaming. I wanted him to back out, but I needed him inside me. He knew his limitations. He wasn’t a regular guy who could just push his way in and start fucking. He backed up a little, which stretched my hole a bit wider, so when he pushed forward another inch, it felt like a relief. He kept pushing slowly until he reached the bottom.

“All good?”

“Yes, sir.” My face said “no”, but he couldn’t see it.

He pulled back, and thrust forward, bumping the end of my hole. He pressed harder, making me stretch. I felt an urge to pee, but held it in.

Like a locomotive, he picked up speed slowly but surely until he was bludgeoning my guts with his fat meat club. My arms holding me up on the desk shook, then my legs buckled. A warm wave of pleasure was making my muscles twitch uncontrollably. The constant pounding at the rear wall pressed against my bladder. I was going to pee.

“Mack, I don’t know how to say this…”

He knew. He emptied his inbox and put it in front of me. I unleashed a small amount of piss, then with each slam against that wall, another stream escaped. Soon I was relieved to find there was no more pee. His inbox was half full.

Now my dick was leaking precum. Thin strings dripped into the inbox at first, then I started gushing. Mack’s fat cock was squeezing it out of me. When he saw that, he sped up.

I wanted to see my new boss, but I was facing the desk. I reached behind me and put a hand on his ass, pulling him towards me in time with his thrusts.

“Mmm, yeah! You’re gonna make me come, boy.”

I rubbed his upper belly and found my way through the thick underbrush to his nipple. I squeezed.

“Fuuuck!” He grabbed my waist, pushed all the way in, and stopped. I felt my ass filling with warm cum. It turned me on so badly, I shot my own load into the inbox without even touching myself.

The boss buried his mustache in my hair and kissed my scalp. “Good boy. Oh such a good boy.”

I felt him pull back and heard a wet syrupy sound as his cum followed his cock out of my hole. Then I felt a cum-soaked handkerchief wiping my backside. I stood, pulling up my pants. I turned to face my impaler. He was struggling to get his semi-hard cock back into his pants.

“Oh, uh, you’re hired. Leave your number with Dinah on the way out. You’re on call, 24 hours a day 7 days a week. When we call, you drive. I’ll have our best man, Deckard, take you on a ride-along. Don’t worry, it pays.”

“Mack, sir, how much does this job pay anyway?”

“Oh like a hundred bucks a run. You might get six runs a week during busy season, or four runs during down time.”

Six hundred a week! My rent was only twenty-five a month at the boarding house. I was going to be rich!

***