Books

Steroid Steve

Gold’s Gym in Venice, CA was the epicenter of the bodybuilding explosion that started in the early 1970s. In this tale, Peter writes about a real person, completely straight, and never interested in him. In fiction, you can turn the tables, as you will see.

I paid 15 dollars for a month’s membership at Gold’s Gym. I was obsessed with a handsome lifter there, Steroid Steve. I have a fetish for men with small penises, and Steve was truly small. His thick, muscular legs, enhanced by anabolic steroids, caused the tiny member to almost disappear. I got rock hard every time I thought about him.

I have quite the opposite problem. My cock is extremely long and impossibly thick. It makes my back hurt just carrying it around in front of me. Men, particularly those who have an insecurity about their own size, never hesitate to humiliate me. They call me “gate crasher” or “baloney pony”. My least favorite insult is when they brush their feet on the floor and whinny like a horse.

I knew I had no chance of getting together with Steve. He was too small to successfully fuck me, and I was too big to fuck him. He wore a wedding ring and dropped hints about his wife while he was lifting on the main floor.

A few Saturdays ago, I came to the packed gym. I wanted to use the Universal Fitness machine, but every station was three deep with a waiting list. As I approached, a pig-eyed dolt with ugly curly hair made a stomp and whinny. Out of nowhere, Steroid Steve appeared and confronted the ugly freak.

“Hey, Jack, leave the guy alone. He’s here to work out like the rest of us.”

Jack snarled and walked away. He was big, but Steve was way bigger.

I exhaled. “Thanks, Steve.”

He eyed me suspiciously. “I don’t know your name. You are…” he extended a hand.

“Peter. Peter Schutes. Your reputation precedes you, that’s why I knew your name.” As I took his hand and shook, I sounded like a confused schoolgirl.

Steve laughed. “Which reputation is that?”

“I mean, everyone calls you Steroid Steve.” I hoped that wasn’t insulting.

Steve’s eyes drifted below my waistline. “I think I understand why Jack was acting so rude.”

I braced for an insult. None came.

Steve said, “I get teased over the same body part, but for the opposite reason.” I didn’t dare tell him that I knew all about it. I just nodded like I was receiving new information.

“What do they say when they tease you?”

Steve sighed. “Cashew, peanut, gnat, you know, the usual. And they are fond of holding up a pinky and putting their thumb on the first segment. That one gets me the most.”

“Oh man, I’m sorry.” I didn’t dare tell him that I found it incredibly sexy. He was straight. Instead, I changed the subject.

“Married?” I pointed to the ring.

He nodded. “Not happily.”

My inner seducer couldn’t keep quiet. “What makes you happy?”

He patted the front of my pants. “If I could have about a quarter of that, I’d be happy.”

Steve’s hand on my cock was completely unexpected. I was too giddy to check my words before they came out. “I could probably get halfway.”

Steve frowned. “What do you mean?”

Shit. I’d lost focus. “I mean, I’d be happy with half of this. Heck, maybe even a quarter.” I grabbed the base of my monster and pinched it, causing it to show through my sweat pants all the way down to my knee.

Steve coughed. “Holy fuck! What do the ladies say?”

“What ladies?” I let that hang in the air for a while. Steve didn’t inquire further.

“Hey buddy, we’re gonna be here all day if we wait for the machine. I’ll spot you, you wanna spot me?” He gestured to the huge gym floor with free weights scattered everywhere. Bodybuilders are messy men in general. They ignore the sign admonishing them to put the weights back where they belong.

When Steve bent over to gather the weights we would need, his ass ate his shorts. It was the roundest, most perfectly shaped ass I had ever seen. I stared glassy-eyed at the heavenly butt. I came around when Steve caught me looking.

“Take a picture. It’ll last longer. And it’d probably fetch a good price on mail order.” I was relieved he didn’t call me a fag.

We worked out for a good hour. Steve lifted three times the weight I did. I could barely spot him, the bar was so heavy. He spotted me with one finger. It was a testament to all the Lord gives and all he takes away. At the end of the workout, we hit the showers.

Saturdays meant that stalls came on a first-come first-served basis. They were all taken. Steve and I both knew better than to go to the open showers where all the regular guys washed themselves. We were freaks in their eyes. They would harass me from envy, and Steve from a sense of superiority. There was no need for either of us to say this out loud. It was a lifelong condition for both of us.

Finally, two stalls opened up at the end of the row, opposite each other. I took the left and Steve took the right. My shower curtains had been torn by some clumsy oaf. Steve’s was no better. Because we were at the very end of the row, we didn’t have to worry about prying eyes. I lathered up, spending a long time on my cock. Steve spent most of his time on his big, beautiful ass. I wondered if he was sending signals. Then he whistled.

“Damn, motherfucker! Is that soft?”

I nodded. “But if you keep washing your ass like that, it’s gonna get bigger.” And it did. I went from big to huge, then huge to monstrous. Steve’s eyes were riveted on my cock. He licked his lips.

He rubbed his thumb up and down his ass crack, eying my meat hungrily, eyebrows raised. He turned, and I could see his tiny penis was at attention. I wanted to suck it so badly.

Steve said, “I live in Culver City, with my wife.”

“I live in Santa Monica, alone.”

“I’d like to see your place, Pete.”

That wasn’t all he wanted to see. Once again, my horribly oversized cock had hooked a straight fish. I didn’t know how it was going to work, but I didn’t care. Nature finds a way.

By the time we walked from Venice to my place on Pico, the hot vibe had chilled a bit. Steve looked around like he was having second thoughts.

I watched his eyes dart about. “Steve, are you cool?”

Steve nodded. His mustache turned up as he smiled. “I’m just so fucking nervous. I’ve never done it with a guy like you.”

That put my mind at ease. He’d done it with other guys. “I’ll always be the biggest, but how big was the previous record holder?”

Steve concentrated. “Some Austrian asshole. Thinks he owns the place. I can’t stand his personality. But fuck! He wasn’t hung like a horse, but it was damn big.”

I winced a little at the implied accusation. I was hung like a horse. Stomp! Whinny! But he didn’t mean it that way.

“What’s the smallest you’ve ever been with, Pete?”

I shrugged. “Three inches, maybe.”

“I got him beat by an inch at least.” Steve blushed. He was an outwardly proud and confident man, but this was his Achilles heel. He was ashamed.

It was time for me to say what I had wanted to say back at the gym. “I love them small. The smaller, the better. I love when the whole package fits in my mouth. And little ones always cum so much more.”

Steve smiled. “I didn’t know there were people out there like you. My wife says I’m useless.”

As we stepped over the threshold to my apartment, I put a firm hand on Steve’s ass. “I like the whole package. Your ass is a monument to the male form.”

Steve kissed me very suddenly. He put a hand down the front of my pants and put his hand on the root of my rapidly expanding cock. He undid my belt buckle, letting my chinos fall around my ankles. There was no underwear that could contain me, so I was fully exposed.

I kneeled, unbuttoning Steve, exposing his tiny package. I put my mouth over it like a mother’s nipple. I flicked his clit-like penis with my tongue.

He moaned. “Pete, not too fast. I cum quickly.”

“And often, I hope?”

He laughed. “Yeah, I got a few loads in me. You’ll see.”

And I did. It took less than a minute for Steve to shudder and release a flood of cum in my mouth. I gulped it down like milk. Steve threw his head from side to side, sucking air and grunting.

After another minute, the orgasm ended. Steve’s shallow breaths returned to normal. He grinned. “Okay, my turn.” He bent over, spreading his ass cheeks, revealing a pink squirming hole. I moved him to the sofa.

I did my best to hide my skepticism. Unless he was really experienced, he wouldn’t even get the head in. I kept a tub of Albolene in the telephone table drawer. Steve took a big glob and applied it generously around and inside his hole. Meanwhile, I applied several generous helpings along the length and girth of my manhood.

“Steve, are you sure you want this? It’s going to hurt.”

“Dude, I’m a bodybuilder. I live for the burn.”

Not surprisingly, when I put my head at the entryway, it wouldn’t go any further. Steve pulled apart his ass cheeks to show a sliver of darkness in the middle of his pink pucker. That was my guide.

“Fuck me, Pete. I can take it.”

He flexed his hole open wider, allowing the tip of my head to enter. I pushed gently, but could go no farther.

“Pete, I mean it. Fuck me hard! Put it in me!”

I felt a rush of joy come over me. This man was my ideal lover. He wanted to please me, and he let me please him. To anchor his ass in place, I held him by the crotch. I could feel dribbles of precum forming rivulets in my hand. It made me even harder. Steve screamed.

“Oh god, I’ve hurt you!”

“No. You got really big for a second but it’s good now. Just keep pushing hard.”

With an audible pop, I heard my head pass his inner sphincter. Even though my cock gets thicker all the way to the base, it still felt like a milestone. I got another six inches inside him before I hit the back of his rectum. I turned him on his side and pushed deeper, entering the colon.

Steve’s eyes fluttered in his head. “Oh fuck man, I’m gonna fucking pass out.” And he did. When he came to a few moments later, I was most of the way in. I had only about six inches to go. Steve wrapped his powerful legs around my waist and forced me all the way in. His eyes were fogged over from pure pleasure. He pushed me back with his feet, then pulled me in.

He did this a few times, establishing a rhythm. “Okay Pete, you’re in charge now.”

He pulled off his t-shirt, revealing a powerful sweaty back and huge pectoral muscles dappled with fur. I got super hard and he winced.

“Oh yeah. Don’t hold back. Fuck my ass.”

I thrust in and out with an ever increasing speed. When I knew he could take it, I pulled the head of my cock right back to the entrance, then thrust it all the way inside his colon. The effect on Steve was extreme. He couldn’t use words anymore, just guttural noises. Looking into his eyes, I could see a distant galaxy. His lips moved in time with my jackrabbit paced fucking.

Steve’s tiny dick was almost gushing precum. The clear sticky goo soiled the suede cushions of my couch. I didn’t care. My cock was completely buried inside this muscle god, and then it was almost out, then all the way in again, over and over. I had been with some pretty talented bottoms, but none of them let me fuck them this deep or this fast. Steve was the best fuck of my life.

I could see Steve was about to cum hands free. I rotated him so his cock faced me. I opened my mouth, and caught the first massive load. I got the second and third spurts, too, then it shot all over my legs. It was so warm, I thought for a second he had pissed himself. I’d seen it happen plenty of times before, especially if I fucked hard and fast. Sure enough, after the cum came a fountain of piss, ruining my couch. It was worth it.

The sense of power I felt at being able to make another man cum and piss against his will was overwhelming. I felt a tingling in my balls that meant things were coming to their conclusion, at least for the moment.

“Steve, I’m gonna cum.”

Steve’s mouth hung agape, but he nodded. Only a moan escaped his lips.

I reached the zenith of my speed and ferocity. Steve started punching the arm of the couch. He broke it with his powerful arms and rock hard fist. His huge glute muscles clamped around my cock like a vise. The added pressure was the tipping point. With my cock somewhere in his lower digestive tract, I fired round after round of cum inside the sexy bodybuilder.

With straight guys, I never kissed. But Steve pulled me close and rubbed his mustache against my lips. I had to break my rule. We locked tongues, exploring each other’s mouths. I enjoyed the sensation of his mustache tickling the hairs of my nose. He tasted like cigarettes and testosterone.

We remained in that embrace for a long time. My cock softened, but it was too thick for Steve to push it out on his own. As long as I stayed wrapped in his arms, I was buried inside him. At last, he let go and I stood up. Slowly, the mass of my cock came dislodged and exited Steve’s asshole, followed by an obscene river of cum.

Steve came out of his reverie. “Oh shit, did I say anything stupid?”

“No, you didn’t say anything at all.”

Steve frowned. “Darn. I hoped I said something stupid like ‘I love you’.”

He left his shrew of a wife and moved in with me. He couldn’t afford to replace the sofa, so I made him work it off. His ass was so loose, his farts came out like a whisper.

#

‘Tis the Season part 2

I spent most of my adult life getting paid to get fucked. I had seen my share of big dicks, and I’d seen a few huge ones. But Roger’s was in a separate league. I had never seen anyone that big hard, let alone soft. A client interrupted my thoughts. It was Roger.

“You’ve been staring off in space all night. Is everything okay?” His mustached grin was so sexy, I felt my knees tremble.

“I’m fine. It’s the first time I’ve seen a dick as big as yours.” We were both porn stars, it was fine to talk shop.

Roger winked. “I need that vodka cranberry, please.”

“One Cape Cod, coming up.” I quickly made his drink and watched his muscular ass as he walked away.

As the evening wore on, I hoped I would see Roger again. He was self-admitted gay guy who was so big, he had to fuck women. I knew we could swap some good war stories. I liked to watch straight porn every once in a while, just for variety. I’m amazed I never saw Roger Breakwater anywhere. Then it dawned on me. He may really be named Roger Breakwater, and he acted under a stage name like I did. He knew me as Jason Cox. I wanted to tell him my real name. Thankfully, he came to my station before the night ended, wrapped in a towel.

“Cape Cod?”

Roger nodded. There was that sexy grin again. I was feeling shy for the first time in years. I decided to be blunt.

“Your smile could melt butter. You know that, right?”

Roger held my head in his meaty paws and planted a kiss that cut through a lot of bullshit. “Yeah, man, I know. Do you get a break?”

“I don’t know. That’s up to your friend.”

Roger looked around. “Get your tips. My friend wants to talk to you anyway. You’re officially on break.”

Roger led me through the winding estate, past the tennis courts until we arrived at a small bungalow office. The owner came out on the porch to greet me in his pajamas.

“Jason Cox. You beautiful man.” The owner adjusted himself, revealing an impressive larger than average cock. “I’m Chaz Winslow.”

I knew that name. He had a porn empire so vast, he actually bought a small skyscraper in Van Nuys to house his business. Winslow Productions made hardcore porn to distribute by VHS and Pay-Per-View, then they edited it for distribution on the Playboy Channel and in states and countries that didn’t allow penetration on film. It was 100% heterosexual. They didn’t even make bisexual films.

“I’m Jason Cox.” He knew that already. “But my real name is Immanuel Figueroa.” We shook hands.

Roger said, “Roger Breakwater’s my real name. My stage name is Jake ‘The Snake’ Hoffman.”

I couldn’t help but blurt it out. “Jake the Snake? Holy Shit! You’re a legend!”

Chaz and Roger explained a glance. Roger said, “So are you, Jason Cox. I always loved that pun. Chasin’ Cocks.”

Since the day Gary Hauser gave me my name, I had never once realized it was tongue in cheek. It must have shown on my face.

Chaz laughed. “You didn’t know, did you? Gary Hauser is a sleaze ball but he can sure pick names.”

My ego slightly wounded, I managed a grin. “I should probably get back to my station.”

Chaz said, “Nonsense. This is an audition for the next chapter in your life. You can’t let that perfect ass go to waste as a cater waiter.”

So this was a business meeting. I was out of the business. Roger/Jake didn’t fuck guys, at least not on film. I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms. “I’m done with the biz.”

Chaz stroked his mustache and eyed me greedily. “I won’t mince words. Vegas hotels are a huge source of income for us. The law just changed, and they’re allowing hardcore gay porn. There’s new markets for gay softcore porn, too. But it has to be high quality product.”

I was still on the fence. “Where do I fit in this?”

Chaz smacked a thick manuscript in his hand. “I just bought a gay erotic romance screenplay that calls for a bottom with your skills and looks. Here.” He handed me the screenplay. “Are you willing to audition?”

I was flattered. My bruised ego couldn’t deny the appeal of being in a Chaz Wilson production. I still sensed something still unsaid. “Okay, but what’s the catch?”

Roger the Snake started to say something, but Chaz put a hand on his arm to silence him. “The audition is tonight. Jake the Snake has half a dozen sex scenes with your character. We auditioned a bunch of young bottoms whose eyes were bigger than their asshole. Every last one cried for mercy and we had to let them walk. We realized the story line didn’t work with a young man as Jake’s bottom. We need a more mature and experienced bottom. You’re perfect.”

Jake added, “If you can handle it.”

I looked at Jake’s handsome face. He was undeniably the sexiest man I’d ever seen. And I’d seen a lot of men.

“Okay, I’m in.”

The casting couch was a King-Sized bed in the bedroom. Chaz left the two of us alone to allow us to “build some chemistry” before he started rolling the casting tape. I stripped down to my BVDs.

I said, “Roger, I’ve been with guys who were really long, and guys who were really thick. I hope you’re not a grower, just a shower.”

Roger’s eyes landed on his crotch. “I’m afraid I’m a grower.” He pulled back his towel, exposing the sea monster moving of its own accord as his erection began. To help him along, I put my lips on his. We kissed, our tongues touching and twisting. I had done it thousands of times with other men, but I never felt this sensation before. I felt like he wanted to be with me for more than just a paycheck. Those thoughts caused my body to give off a faint aroma of desire. Roger put a huge hand under one of my fat butt cheeks. No words were spoken, but I knew that he had wanted to do that for many years.

My thoughts were interrupted by the head of Roger’s cock rustling against my ear. I saw out of the corner of my eye an erection to rival a horse’s. I thought about all the women he’d fucked for money. It made me even hornier. Roger’s huge hand tore at the back of my briefs, tearing open a hole. Like a wrestler giving a signal, he tapped my leg in just the right way to convey, without words, that it was time for me to put my ass in his face.

On all fours, I felt Roger’s tongue flicking in and out of my hole. Then it pushed hard until it was in my butthole a good two inches. He flexed and twisted his tongue in ways no top had ever done before. When I wiggled with delight, he pushed even deeper. He used his thick fingers to pry open the hole. It was like riding a bicycle. I relaxed completely, letting the second sphincter relax to allow his tongue to tickle me inside.

I wanted this part bad. I knew to moan softly during a tongue-fuck, but I had trouble keeping the volume down because so much of it was genuine pleasure. I said silent prayers to my sphincter, begging it to open up completely for this hot porn star when the time came.

First I had to suck him off. It’s just a rule in gay porn. When my mouth got a third of the way down the head, it couldn’t stretch any more. He was too thick. This was a first for me. I broke my jaw playing flag football back in seventh grade. Ever since, it made a funny click if I moved it wrong. I heard the click, and suddenly my jaw came open wider than should be humanly possible. I greedily gobbled the head and let him push more and more of his endless log of flesh down my throat. At the halfway point, I knew I couldn’t take any more. I looked up at Roger/Jake, whose astonished eyes told me how good I was doing.

“Don’t try to take the whole thing; nobody can.” Hearing these words made me all the more determined. I had no gag reflex, and I could hold my breath for a really long time. I felt the fat head slide past my Adam’s apple and continue. I put a hand on my throat and felt the head sliding down to the bottom. It kept going past where my neck ended.

“Holy shit! Oh fuck!” Roger held my ears and fucked my face. I could still see several inches of exposed flesh, but it was not possible to go all the way. Roger didn’t mind. I knew this was his first deep throat. I cradled his apple-sized balls, which were churning and humming with an energy all their own. In a sudden jerk, he withdrew his cock, which throbbed and dribbled pre-cum.

“I almost came in your throat.”

“Why didn’t you?”

Roger kissed me. “Because I want to shoot my cum in your ass.”

“I though you’d never ask.” He picked me up and put me in downward dog, with my head on the pillow and my ass high in the air. After a couple more refreshers in tongue fucking, he took a scoop of Crisco and greased up my ass. He took his time, sliding one, then two fingers in and out. Soon all four thick fingers and his massive thumb were able to enter me. He pushed and I saw stars. I had been fisted before, but never by a man with such huge hands. With an audible ‘pop’ his fist went inside me. As he pushed his hairy arm deeper in my gut, I felt my asshole opening wider and wider. I got a moment’s relief at the elbow, but then came the bicep.

“You’re so fucking talented.” Roger was amazed by my accommodating hole. “Fucking you is going to be great.”

He pulled the whole arm out, then slid it back in until it was stopped at the armpit. His hand must have been near my belly button. I saw a lump form there. I put my hand on his, caressing the fist inside me. He punch fucked me a dozen times, then withdrew.

They say if you are on a cliff and in danger of falling, you should never look down. I made the mistake of looking at Jake the Snake’s fully erect cock. It was bigger than his arm. I turned away and heard Roger/Jake snicker.

“What’s funny?”

He slapped one of my butt cheeks. “You looked. I forgot to tell you not to look.”

“I’m ready.” He coated his cock with Crisco from his arm, and greased the giant pole. Still facing down, I felt the head press against my hole.

“You’re sure you wanna do this?”

I said, “I’m pretty sure you’d ruin the fucking movie if you asked me that in the middle of it all.” We both laughed.

Roger pressed hard, easily inserting the tip. Getting past the corona was his first challenge. To make it easier, I backed up and forced it through. Once the head was in, there were more challenges. His cock grew gradually thicker along the length until it reached the base. Somewhere about nine inches in, it was going to be thicker than his bicep. At the base, it was like a tree trunk. He knew this, and I could feel him hesitating to push further.

“Fuck me, Jake!” As if to convince him, I reached back and held his cock, pushing it deeper inside me. As he moaned with pleasure, I said, “Don’t hold back, man, fuck me like it’s Christmas. Open your present.”

Finally, I said the magic words. I know this guy has probably taken dates to the hospital, had near tragedies on his film sets, all because he was hung too big. I had never taken a monster the size of his, but I had the resume to prove I could do it. It gave me confidence.

I flipped onto my back while he was still only halfway in. I felt the cock rotate inside my colon. It was unlike anything I had ever felt in my fifteen year porn career. From that position, I was able to grab Roger’s ass with my feet and force him closer to me, deeper inside me. In a few more seconds, his cock’s epic journey was over. His hips hit my buttocks. I pulled them apart and let the last few inches inside.

I probably had the glassy-eyed stare of a drunk who had hit his head on the pavement. Roger caressed my cheek. “Are you okay? Are you ready to fuck?”

I nodded vigorously. He took small strokes at first, perhaps afraid he was doing damage. My insistent bucking made it clear he needed to be more bold. I was stretched in places I barely knew existed. It felt incredible. When he finally let loose and started to pound me like a woman, I saw stars. I felt convulsive spasms in my gut. My legs trembled. I bucked involuntarily. I was having my first bonafide anal orgasm!

Roger felt it, too, because my insides were caressing and squeezing his cock in rhythm to the pounding he gave my ass. I couldn’t see. I realized my eyes were turned up inside my head. I brought them back out and saw Roger staring at me intently while he filled me with his impossible cock.

He planted his lips on mine. I wrapped my legs around his waist. I felt his stomach touch mine. We were as close as two men can be. In one easy gesture, he lifted me off the bed and carried me, impaled around the bedroom, setting me on the arm of a sofa. I never wanted to let go of Roger. He was the man every gay guy dreams of. Strong, masculine, hung like an alien, tight muscular ass, Roger was perfect. He carried me out of the bedroom and put me on the desk. Outside, I could hear the party raging on the other side of the tennis courts.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Chaz holding a camera in one hand and jacking off with the other. I lolled my head back, beckoning him to fuck my throat. He needed no encouragement. Soon, I was staring at the lens of a camera with my body plugged at both ends. After Jake/Roger, Chaz was refreshingly easy to blow. I used a few tricks I had picked up and had him spattering my face with his cum in no time.

Chaz positioned himself beneath us as we fucked, capturing Roger’s tether-ball pole reaming my forsaken ass.

“Good, good, now pull out all the way so we can see.”

Roger took two steps back and let the head fall out of my wrecked hole. I felt half my ass hanging out.

“Now in, steadily but swiftly.”

Roger held the head in position and easily entered me. I pulled apart my ass cheeks to let him fill me entirely. It was a fast thrust and it felt good.

“Now do that twenty times, but don’t take the head out each time, just a couple times.”

Now Roger was speed-fucking me. It was enough to trigger another anal orgasm, and, to my surprise, I shot my load without ever touching my cock.

“Shit.” I could tell I got cum on the camera. There was about to be a lot more.

I maneuvered so I could cup Roger’s balls in my hand. With my foot, I massaged Chaz’s cock, which had grown rock hard and ready for his second coming. I put my hand on my cock, because I could feel another orgasm building in my balls.

Cupping balls is Roger’s Achilles heel. They churned and squirmed. I could feel seminal fluid flowing out of them. I squeezed them hard just as I lifted my foot from Chaz.

“Oh fuck yes.” Roger threw his head back and let the cum fly out his cockhead, wedged deep in my colon. Feeling warm, thick, syrupy cum spurting inside me was an aphrodisiac. My hand flew fast and in another instant, I shot my second load, bigger than my first, and ruined Chaz’s camera. To add insult to injury, Chaz shot a giant load of his own, which flew skyward and landed on his face, his belly, and the lens of the camera.

“This thing is ruined.”

“Wait, there’s more,” I said, as I felt my insides expelling Roger’s cum. My hole was so loose, I couldn’t stop the flow. It rained all over Chaz and his camera.

“Did I get the job?”

Chaz laughed. “You’re hired.”

Roger looked at me intently. “I wasn’t acting. That was the best fuck of my life.”

I shrugged. “Are you asking for a second date? Outside the film?”

Roger nodded. “Jake the Snake dates Jason Cox.”

Chaz said, “An off-screen romance! I love it! Kid, I’m gonna make you a star!”

#

If you want more romance from Jake and Jason, leave us a message. We’ll find more pages somewhere in all of Peter’s things.

‘Tis the Season

In my youth, I was an actor. Not what Hollywood folks call a “legitimate” actor. I was on the other side of the hill, in the San Fernando Valley. My parents moved to Reseda from Chile when I was just a boy. I could speak fluent Spanish, but I chose to speak English most of the time.

Living in the Valley, you couldn’t miss the effects of the $4 Billion adult entertainment industry. Gentlemen’s clubs, sex shops, arcades, X-rated movie theaters – they were all around us. We all remember high school dares. In some parts of the USA, it might be cow tipping or streaking through the barn. At our high school, friends used to dare each other to go into a video arcade and try to pass as an adult.

It was senior year, during just such a dare that I met Gary Hauser. Gary not only produced porn, he was an actor as well. I had never seen him before. I didn’t realize I was gay until the moment I set eyes on Gary jacking off in one of the private booths. His door was propped open. He took one look at me and he knew what I was, even before I knew myself.

“Come here, kid, and suck my cock.”

It was a magnificent cock in many ways. It wasn’t huge, but it was well proportioned, with a fat vein running down the underside. It was already slick with precum. When I put my mouth on it he shuddered. After a few minutes fucking my throat, he sprayed my face and tongue with cum.

“Kid, you’re a natural. Let me see what you’re working with down there.”

I blushed. I was maybe 2 inches soft, and 4 inches hard. I reluctantly pulled down my pants and showed him my small penis.

“You’re a bottom, I take it.”

“A what?” I had never had sex with anyone until just this moment. Gary saw the look of freshly lost innocence in my eyes and new he could exploit it for profit.

“Let me take you home and show you.”

My buddies saw me leave with Gary. Some of them recognized him from straight porn. I was going to be the laughing stock of Reseda High. Gary had a bossy, commanding way about him. I would rather have been humiliated for the three remaining weeks of senior year than miss out on the opportunity of a lifetime.

Gary broke me in. I screamed and wailed and begged him not to go any further, but he was an expert. He waited patiently until I could finally accommodate his cock. By the time it was all the way in, I was dripping precum all over the bedspread. When he slowly pulled back and pushed in hard, I moaned. He knew he had me.

“Feels good in that tight pussy, doesn’t it?”

I nodded and let out groans of pain and moans of pleasure. Gary picked up the pace. I pushed back to meet his thrusts. I wanted him to go deeper, but he wasn’t big enough. I wanted him to stretch me even more, but he wasn’t thick enough. Still, his technique made up for a lot. He was the perfect cherry popper. After a long while, Gary grunted and shot his load in my ass. It turned me on so much, I shot a load of my own without even touching myself.

Kid, I don’t know your name, but you are definitely a bottom. How would you like to make some money? You already earned a hundred bucks today.

I was blown away. Back then, one hundred dollars was an impressive sum. I nodded.

“Meet me on set this weekend.” He handed me a card. “Don’t tell me your name, I don’t need to know. You’re going to go by the name Jason Cox. It’s best to have a stage name. Using your real name will cause you no end of trouble.”

So that’s how I got my start in the gay porn industry. Every top wanted me to bottom for them. There were some cocks that defied imagination. Others, whose size would cause any average man to blush in the gym shower, seemed small to me after having tasted more.

Legit actors have the same problem as porn actors. You cross a certain invisible age line, and the work dries up. I spent my twenties and half my thirties earning enough to buy a small house in Van Nuys. Some of the bottoms had big cocks, and they were able to flip. I wasn’t versatile that way, so when my bottoming career ended, it was over.

Nobody had taught me how money works, so other than my modest house, I had no investments or other means to live by. I started taking odd jobs in the catering industry. It didn’t matter where I went, somebody always recognized me and addressed me as Jason, instead of Immanuel, my real name. I learned to enjoy the way these men gushed about how I got them off. Either they were tops that had wanted to fuck me, or they were bottoms who identified with me as I got fucked. I missed my youth, when I turned down every regular joe because I knew I had a porn star cock waiting in the wings to fuck me.

One year, I was hired to be a bartender at a Christmas party in Encino. The house was magnificent. There was a pool, a gym, and tennis courts. I arrived early. The owner showed me the bar inside the gym and I got started setting up. The owner had a large mustache, which I normally associated with my early career. It turned me on, even though I thought it was tacky and outdated. The way the owner kept looking at me, I knew he recognized me. When another man came out and put his arm on the guy’s shoulder, I knew it. There wasn’t a gay man alive who hadn’t seen one of my movies.

“Are you partners?” I asked, pointing to the guy cozying up to the owner.

The two men looked into each other’s eyes. They laughed. “We’re girlfriends from way back.” As the friend said this, I found myself doing a double take. He was my age, with a rugged face, mustache, broad shoulders and a thin waist. He wore a robe, so I couldn’t see much else.

“This is a clothing optional pool party. You’re cool with that, right?” The owner winked.

I nodded politely. “Yeah man, I’m cool with it. I think you know who I am, so you know I’ve seen more dicks than daisies in my lifetime.”

The friend came up and put his arm around my waist. “I like this one. Jason, right?”

I nodded, not wanting to reveal my true name. I was a lot shorter than this cowboy in a robe. When he turned to leave, I felt something brush my thigh that should have brushed my elbow.

“I’m Roger Breakwater.” He left a hundred in the tip jar. “I’m gonna be naked the rest of this party, so I want to tip you ahead of time.

Without any delay, he shed the robe, revealing a soft, fat snake of a cock that dangled near his knees. “I got paid more to do straight porn,” he said, “Or I’m sure we would have met. I know I wanted to.”

I was rock hard in my tight black polyester blend khakis. It didn’t matter, because I was so small. Roger didn’t even notice, he just jumped into the pool.

…to be continued

Is It the Motion in the Ocean?

This is a fragment of a note from Peter written close to the end of his life. He waxes philosophical on the meaning of penis size in the context of human interactions.

Love the size you have

In the realm of male psychology, the mind has an infinite capacity to criticize its owner. I’m too fat. I’m too skinny. I’m not muscular enough. I can’t grow a beard, etc. Women may have a similar affliction, but I can only write from the male perspective.

I spent the majority of my life bemoaning the size of my cock, which was enormous. It was too big to have sex with a normal man. The loosest holes require a rigorous fisting warmup. I was miserable with my lot in life. I envied the guys with just an average pole. I even envied the guys who had massive cocks that were dwarfed by mine. I felt a kinship with the men whose endowment was the exact opposite – so small it couldn’t be used for penetrative sex.

I wasted nearly 80 years wishing to be different instead of embracing what I was given. I met more than a few men with tiny penises who said the same thing. One said, “I just needed to accept that I was a bottom, because I loved to get fucked. But somehow, my fear that it made me less of a man prevented me from giving myself over to contentment and pleasure.”

He couldn’t have said it better. I love to get fucked. If I’m lucky enough to meet a fisting bottom, I like to fuck, too. But for the most part, I’m a bottom because nature made me so.

One fact that cannot be argued is that potential sexual partners often judge you based on the size of your penis. Small guys get rejected by picky tops and other bottoms. Big guys get turned off when they see how enormous I am.

The judgment cuts both ways. I particularly enjoy fucking one man with a gaping hole and a tiny penis because he comes easily and often. This is Hollywood, so I won’t reveal his name. There are a lot of tops who take pleasure in fucking a guy with a small dick. There’s no threat that they might get flipped over and fucked. These tops often experience a sense of dominance and authority over the small-dicked man.

Similarly, I scare away tops for the exact opposite reasons. The top is threatened by my size because he fears either getting fucked (and ripped in two) or that My gargantuan cock usurps his dominance and authority. I scare away 99% of the bottoms because they aren’t up for the challenge. But there are some guys who get turned on fucking me because they are overpowering a monster. Occasionally, a top will kneel down and ask to worship my meat. I rarely get off when this happens, because their tongues get dry licking so much flesh.

I feel a kinship with men at the extremes of size. The very biggest tops tell me that their cock scares away a lot of partners. The guys with the little cocks are even more like me, because they feel shame and envy, something most average to huge guys don’t really understand.

It has taken me many years to understand that any endowment is meant to be just as it is. Microscopic, tiny, small, average, big, huge, me. Any of those men has his advantages and disadvantages. Those of us at the extremes of size have greater disadvantage, but that just makes the hunt all the more exciting. —PS

At the Lucky Market – An erotic story

…the way he squeezed the banana was more than suggestive…

On summer break from college back East, I came to stay with my Grandmother in Fresno, CA. Fresno is the largest city between Los Angeles and San Francisco. It sits in the middle of the Central Valley, where it bakes like the raisins and prunes it is famous for producing. Fresno was trying to be a big city, but it was a farming town at heart, so all the trappings of a proper city were there, but there was no one to use them. The Rumpus Room, the one gay bar in town, seldom had more than twenty lonely men who all knew each other. It wasn’t officially gay, but all the clientele were bisexual or gay men. Women didn’t go there.

Grandma drove a massive Town & Country station wagon. At night, she let me use it to “go do your college stuff” which was her way of saying “cruise for chicks”. I cruised for dicks. Having a rather small penis myself, I fantasized about playing with a big one. My boyfriend in college was average; we broke up in the Spring. I was too afraid of seeing someone I might know at the Rumpus Room, so I just drove endless streets in the swollen suburb to no avail. Who was going to get it on with a guy in a station wagon? I knew about parks and rest areas, but I preferred to know my date before we fucked.

That was why I was so surprised when a trip to the grocery store turned into the raunchiest, sexiest encounter of my life.

It was July. The vinyl on Grandma’s seat was so hot, it would give second degree burns, so I sat on a terry cloth towel. It was still so hot my legs turned red, but my skin stayed attached to my body, so it was an improvement over the alternative. Fresno’s didn’t have fancy grocery stores like Zabar’s. The closest they had was the Lucky Supermarket. It was a chain from somewhere east of California, but it specialized in local meat and produce, which was the best thing about Fresno. Farmers and cowboys were scary, but they made some damn good food.

On this fateful day, Grandma shopped on the butcher aisle and sent me with a short list to get fruits and vegetables for the week. It was near the melons I saw him: a cowboy with thick legs, a round butt (complete with Copenhagen snuff in the back pocket), and shoulders nearly twice as wide as his waist. From behind, he looked well-built. He picked up a cantaloupe and thumped it before putting it in his shopping cart. He froze. Turning his head, he caught me staring at him. His face was framed by a square jaw, big ears and a ten gallon hat with jet black hair poking out from under the brim.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

I blushed and hurried down to the onions and potatoes. The last thing I needed was for another cowboy to beat the shit out of me. I’d had enough of that in high school. I cursed when I realized I had forgotten tomatoes, avocados and bananas; the cowboy was right there in the aisle where all three met. He was inspecting the fruit. Again he turned his head in my direction, but this time he winked. He grabbed an avocado and gave it a gentle squeeze before putting it in his hand basket. He pressed a finger on a tomato. The skin gave but didn’t stay depressed. He put the ripe beefsteak tomato in the basket. Then he picked up a bunch of bananas. He held them close to his generous nose and inhaled deeply. To my horror, he gave the biggest banana a squeeze test.

“You’re not supposed to squeeze bananas, you’ll bruise them.”

The cowboy turned to face me. “I know.” I was mesmerized by his dark green eyes. The way he squeezed the banana was more than suggestive. He lowered it to crotch level, where something much larger than any banana was stuffed down his Wranglers. He used the banana to outline the enormity of his endowment.

“You like what you see?” He flexed it make it stand out even further. “You got me hard, son, and you’re going to help me with it. I can’t walk around like this.”

“Wh-what did you want me to do?”

He tilted his head towards a nearby door to the stockroom. “You walk right in front of me, nice and easy.” I covered him from the front, and the hand basket covered him from the side. I had no idea what was about to happen to me. There was more than a 50 percent chance I was in for a serious fag bashing. I was wrong.

The employee restroom was a private stinky toilet with a filthy wash basin. The cowboy hustled me in there and locked the door behind us. He raised his hand, causing me to flinch involuntarily.

The big bear of a man chuckled. “I ain’t gonna hit you, but I may hurt you. I think you’ll like it.” He unbuckled his belt unzipped, and let his Wranglers drop. They didn’t go far, just enough to reveal the root of his massive cock, which was big around as a Coke can. Now, I get turned on by huge cocks, but I had never been fucked by one that summer.

“Pull them down, son.” I dropped to my knees and freed the rest of his cock, which hit me with a strong uppercut to the jaw.

“Holy fucking shit!”

He frowned. “Watch your mouth.”

I lowered my gaze. “Yes, Sir.”

Calling the cowboy “Sir” made me feel something new and different. I submitted to his superior masculinity. I was his bitch, and I liked it. So did he. He grabbed the ten inch log of cock and slapped me with it hard before shoving the tip in my mouth.

“Open up.”

I didn’t think it was possible to take more but he held my lower jaw and stretched it. The head slipped past my teeth and pressed on my tonsils. I gagged, but he held it there, letting me gag and spit up over and over until the reflex stopped.

“Good boy.” In one swift motion, he forced his fat cock down my throat. My airway was blocked. He held it there for a while, until I saw stars. Just when I was sure I would suffocate, he pulled back just enough to give me a quick gasp of air, and then he was back in my throat, fucking my face. His big meaty hands held my ears to keep me from pulling away. I was his bitch and I had to take it the way he wanted.

I glanced at the bathroom mirror. The sight of his huge cock going in and out of my mouth gave me an instant boner. Not that he could tell. Like I said, I’m small. Just when I was getting used to his cock in my throat, he pulled me to my feet by my ears.

“It’s good an wet now. Take ‘em off.”

I obediently removed my jeans. He ripped a hole in my underwear. He had no interest in seeing my tiny cock. I stroked it through my underwear between my thumb and forefinger until he slapped my hand.

“You’ll come when I say you can come.”

“Yes, sir.” The words were barely audible after the brutal pounding my throat had taken.

I swooned when I felt his tongue circling my hole. He spit on the hole and used his fat finger to work it in. His finger felt bigger than my ex-boyfriend’s dick! He worked it in, then another, eventually he had three fat fingers inside me.

“Unh!” The pain in my anus was canceled by the pleasure in my prostate. A wet spot appeared on my briefs where the pre-cum was leaking out.

My cowboy pinched my nipples with his free hand. This made the juice dribble out faster. Suddenly, the fingers were gone.

He said, “This is gonna hurt, sorry.” He wasn’t lying. He had to clamp his huge hand down over my mouth to keep me from screaming. He pushed his cock partway into my ass, so that the thickest part of the head was in my anus, stretching both sphincters further than I ever thought possible. The pain caused my vision to go bright white, then I passed out.

When I came to, he was fucking me hard and deep. Whatever pain had been there before had quieted down. This new pain was much more tolerable. I felt him slipping around a corner in my gut I never knew existed. Each time that he turned the corner, a raw wave of pleasure sent shockwaves through my body.

“You daddy’s little pussy? Daddy’s little pussy boy, huh? You like it when I fuck your little pussy?”

“Yes, sir.” I couldn’t deny it. I love being his hole to use.

Apparently he had been holding back. Our last interchange put him in high gear. He pulled to the point that his head stretched my sphincter to its limit, then plunged in past the junction and deep into my colon. He did it over and over again until my legs started to give way. He just picked me up and turned me to face him. He pushed me against the wall and fucked even harder. He smashed his mustache into my clean shaven lips and buried his tongue in my mouth. He looked down, saw the big wet stain on my shorts, and smiled.

“Did I make your little clit all wet?”

I nodded my head. That was probably what put him over the edge. His violent thrusts were stretching me in ways I never thought possible. I could see the huge head press a large lump into my belly. I put my hands over the spot and squeezed each time his head popped up.

“Oh yeah!” The cowboy threw his head back so hard his hat fell off, revealing a bushy head of black hair that made his green eyes smolder. As he drew closer to climax, I cupped his bull balls, feeling them churn as they prepared to empty inside me.

“Take it, boy!” His cock thrashed inside me as it emptied warm, slippery cum into my belly. He held still, his crotch pressed hard against my buttocks, as deep as he could go. He kissed me passionately as more and more sperm emptied inside me.

“You can come now, son.”

“I already did.” It was true. My teeny weeny peeny had synced up with his giant bull cock. I didn’t care. It felt so good being filled with his cum, I hadn’t even noticed my own orgasm. His was far more important in every way.

He lifted me off his cock, which had softened enough to get me off it. It smacked his lower thigh and spattered the dregs of his cum on the dirty bathroom floor.

“Good boy.” He stuffed his cock back in his jeans and carefully zipped them. I thought how easy it must be for his dick to get caught in the zipper!

He said, “I want to see my cum leave your ass. Stand over the toilet.”

I did as I was told. He took a finger and easily entered my loose hole, opening the inner sphincter to allow the white man juice to pass. I was shocked by how much came out. As soon as I thought I was done, another spoonful would come flying out. The toilet water was white, with great ropes of the stuff floating about in eddies.

“That’s it, boy. Let it all go.” He stroked my cheek with his hand, but didn’t kiss me. He walked out of the toilet and slammed the door behind him. I had found the best fuck of my life, and he was walking out on me!

My underwear was torn in back, and sopping wet in front. I took me a minute to get them off and toss them in the waste bin. I wanted to cry. But then my eye landed on something unexpected: a banana. On the banana was written “Cody. 777-8714”. The rest of the summer, I “did my college stuff” in Cody’s barn, where he showed me every variety of pleasure two men can have together.

To this day, I can’t shop Lucky’s without getting hard.

Big Dick Superiority and Male Pregnancy (MPREG) on Vella

PS Publishing released two rare Peter Schutes novels as serials on Kindle Vella. They’re much less expensive than buying a novel, and both stories are fantastic tales of giant cocks and pregnant men.

In The Orchardman, Peter weaves a post-plague tale of infertility, captivity, and male pregnancy. It’s one of the first science fiction novels Peter attempted. Shepard Hendrix, a fertile Monachee capable only of bearing male heirs from another man, is captured and enslaved in a prison hospital where the US Government hopes to resolve the infertility program through forced pregnancy. He escapes the hospital only to find himself in the hand of a new warden, whose private castle serves as a different kind of prison. Can Shepard ever find freedom and reunite with his family?

In The Longshoremen, Peter begins his seedy story in Stockton’s skid row among the longshoremen who work on Rough and Ready island. Alec Shore, an enormously endowed dock worker, falls hard for Ralph EagleClaw, a two-spirit hermaphrodite. Love begets tragedy, then renewal when Ralph returns home to bear Alec’s child alone.

You’d be doing yourself a favor to read these two. If you like big dicks, impossible male pregnancy, and romance, these erotic serials will float your boat.

MPREG or Male Pregnancy

From Peter’s Notes: Ever since I first heard of ectopic pregnancy in which the embryo attaches outside the womb, my imagination soared. It shows that it’s scientifically possible (if not plausible) for a man to be impregnated. I spent much of my time devoted to writing the Monachee fantasy series Daddy’s Boy [editor’s note, Amazon made us change the titles to Appalachian Bred]. I wrote dozens of stray stories, including a Monachee tale of pregnancy in a post-plague sterile America. I also wrote a humorous book called The Butt Baby and a serious story about a Native American hermaphrodite. There are dozens more, but those three stand out.

From PS Publishing: We found The Orchardman (post-plague science fiction) and The Longshoremen (hermaphrodite birth) in a cabinet in Peter’s tool shed. He really was good at hiding the stuff that he thought might be too much. All of his work was too much, and we love it! PS Publishing has released these two stories on the new Kindle Vella platform. If you like rough man on man impregnation, these two will satisfy. It’s not the delicate mpreg – this is Bara. Rough sex between rough and tough men.

Peter’s Serials on Kindle Vella

You should check out Peter’s latest publications: 2 serial stories on Kindle Vella.

The Orchardman is a dystopian tale of male pregnancy (mpreg) and childbirth. It takes place in a setting very much like Children of Men or The Handmaid’s Tale, where infertility causes society to collapse. If you’ve read the Daddy’s Boy/Appalachian Bred series, you know about the Monachee, a clan of hill folk whose men can conceive and bear a child. The Orchardman follows Shep Boone, a Monachee from the Virginia hills. When he is kidnapped (along with all of his kind), he is imprisoned in a hospital whose sole aim is to produce offspring for the wealthy helmsmen. This bizarre work of fiction was found among Peter’s personal files, kept under his bed.

The Longshoremen is a different kind of mpreg story. Ralph is a two-spirit, born with both genders. He chooses to live as a man, but he longs to be with another man. When he meets Alec Shore, an enormously gifted longshoreman, they fall in love. Ralph discovers he is pregnant. He struggles to navigate the uncharted waters of male pregnancy on his own.

Miles High – Free for all – mm size differences spa (small penis appreciation)

Miles High

Jeffrey clutched his ticket in sweaty palms. He didn’t like flying. Whenever he had a choice, he took a train, or a bus. This was a transcontinental flight on a DC-10 from Los Angeles to New York.  He could choose between three days of solid discomfort or six hours of terror…each way. But the meeting was tomorrow, so he really had no choice. 

Jeffrey ducked into the restroom for a quick pee before the boarding began. He groaned when he saw the urinal, a single trough. He hated other men looking at his depressingly tiny penis. He scanned the stalls to see if a private toilet was available; all full. His short pause caused a gentleman to bump into him.

“Ey, are you going or not”?

Jeffrey turned to face his antagonist, and almost wet himself on the spot. It was Ashe D’Estende, the straight porn star. The star saw the flash of recognition in Jeffrey’s eyes and grinned.

Jeffrey turned red. He stepped forward to the trough and removed his tiny wiener. Ashe appeared beside him. He saw the tiny manhood and whistled.

“That sucks, man.”

Jeffrey couldn’t believe this blockhead. He also couldn’t stop staring as the oaf peeled his skin tight polyester pants from his thighs in order to extract his legendary dong.  It flopped like a dead snake out of his trousers. It was so long, the head crash landed in the river of urine below. Ashe cursed and lifted the monster out of the trough.

Jeffrey whistled.

“That sucks, man.”

Ashe chuckled as the stream of urine trickling from his urethra became a rushing rapids. Jeffrey was so piss shy, he started to put it away.

“Where you going? Let’s cross swords.”

Ashe had an easy comfort with his body; it was contagious. Jeff relaxed and let the stream of urine flow from his little penis. Ashe swatted his stream of urine so it collided with Jeffrey’s. Jeffrey swatted back, causing droplets to splatter the wall above the trough.

“Nice! You win.”

“I win? That’s a first.”

Jeffrey’s self-loathing colored his speech.

The loudspeaker announced the boarding of flight 1480 from Los Angeles to New York.

Both men put away their respective manhoods and left the restroom.

Jeffrey was not a virgin, but he had a hard time connecting with men. His small penis shame was a constant drum in his ears while he talked to guys. They sensed his fear and avoided him. It landed him on an analyst’s couch for years.

Jeffrey gained most of his sexual gratification in erotic cinemas like the Pussycat on Western Avenue.  He would sit on an empty row and masturbate to adult movies. It was not sex, but it was easier than dealing with potential humiliation in the bedroom. 

Jeffrey’s surrogate sex life was the reason he recognized Ashe D’Estende. He was a French Canadian who came to Los Angeles seeking stardom, and his dick made him famous. It was far and away the biggest hard cock Jeffrey had ever seen. Soft, it was enormous. Rumors surrounding his legendary member were whispered in soft tones at the theaters.  Several stars refused to work with him because he preferred anal. The women didn’t have the guts to take the legend.

Thinking about Ashe took his mind off the upcoming flight. The gate agent took his ticket and sent him down the long covered walkway to the jumbo jet. Jeffrey liked the covered walkway. The last time he had flown, he was forced to walk on a noisy tarmac as planes roared down the runway nearby. This quiet, climate-controlled hallway was a great improvement. When he stepped into the plane, he was astonished by its size. How could such a massive object ever get airborne?  He had requested an aisle seat, hoping it would keep him from seeing the plane leave the ground. When he found his seat, it was occupied. By Ashe.

“Uh, I think this is my seat.”

Ashe grinned. He took his ticket stub out and compared.

“Nope. Lucky, you got the window.”

“Damn. Do you want to switch”?

“Hell yeah.”

Ashe undid the seatbelt and adjusted his huge soft cock so he wouldn’t sit on it when sliding across. It snaked its way down his trouser leg towards his knee. While scooting, Ashe held the monstrosity with both hands to keep it from slipping under his thigh.

Jeffrey watched in envy and fascination. His mouth hung open. He felt faint. Seeing Ashe pissing was not even as interesting as watching him struggle with simple movement.

“Fucking huge, right”? Ashe grabbed a portion of his long meat and shook it for Jeffrey’s benefit.

“Y-yes, sir.” Jeffrey didn’t know why he said that. Ashe made him want to submit.

Ashe’s eyes sparkled. “Sir? Quel surprise.” The Québécois revealed his origins with his accent.        

Jeffrey sat beside him. He leaned forward to put his knapsack under the seat, and caught Ashe staring at his ass.

Ashe sucked air through his teeth. “Bel cul, mon frere.”

A rush of erotic pleasure surged through him. The biggest cock in porn was complimenting his ass.

The stewardess was demonstrating the seatbelt and the flotation device. Jeffrey   looked at the placard studiously, prepared for the inevitable crash landing over water. Ashe watched as thin beads of sweat rolled down Jeffrey’s face and splashed on the card.

“Eh, mon ami, are you frightened”?

Jeffrey nodded.

“I will help you. You must be distracted.”

As the plane backed out of the gate, Ashe put his big meaty hand down the back of Jeffrey’s pants and fingered his asshole. He leaned in and whispered, “Once we are in the sky, I will take you to heaven.”

The plane gathered speed on the runway. Jeffrey cried out as Ashe put one, then two fingers in his ass. The plane lifted off; Ashe slipped a third huge finger into Jeffrey’s hole.

Ashe stretched and fingered him until the no smoking sign turned off. By the time the stewardess walked past, Ashe was sniffing his fingers and smiling at his astonished seat mate.

“No smoking sign is off. Meet me in the back.” He pulled a joint out of his shirt pocket and winked. He climbed over Jeffrey, making sure to rub his crotch in the man’s face.

Jeffrey couldn’t process everything that was happening to him. He was airborne flying over some shitty suburb and the hottest man in porn was waiting to get stoned with him. And he was too turned on to be scared.

Jeffrey undid his buckle and walked through the smoke cloud at the back of the plane until he reached the restrooms. All the stewardesses were busy preparing food at the front of the plane. Ashe stood just inside a restroom, beckoning him. He stepped in and Ashe locked them in.

Ashe fired up the joint and passed it to Jeffrey.

Jeffrey coughed and laughed as they finished the joint together. Ashe flushed the toilet to change the air in the tiny room. He smiled at Jeffrey.

“You have a beautiful tiny penis.”

Jeffrey reddened.

“No, no mon ami, it is a compliment.”

“In what world is that a compliment”?

“I like to fuck handsome men but only if they have itty bitty penises.”

“I would have thought you preferred big guys, like the ones you work with.”

“I am not a narcissist.  My huge cock is beautiful, eh, but it needs not see its reflection, yes”?

His French Canadian accent was unattractive but sexy nonetheless.

“I don’t understand.”

“Let me show you.” Ashe planted his lips on Jeffrey’s and filled his mouth with thick tongue. The passion, fueled by weed and high altitude, drove the men wild. Jeffrey tore at the pearl snaps of Ashe’s cowboy shirt. Ashe removed the young man’s trousers in one swift motion.  He unzipped and extracted his rapidly growing member from his double-knit trousers.  He applied airline lotion liberally to his cock and Jeffrey’s asshole. The three fingers found their way in. Ashe had been fucking ass on camera for five years. He was an expert. Jeffrey moaned as his rectum loosened under the digital assault.  He had never been with a masculine man. His dates were usually very feminine, and always disappointed in Jeffrey’s little unit. Ashe used his free hand to wiggle Jeffrey’s scrotum and penis like it was a pussy. He felt like a woman; it was a huge relief. He didn’t want to be a man with Ashe; he wanted to be a lady under his command. He knew he was about to be anally massacred, but he welcomed it.

The tiny restroom could not accommodate Ashe’s manhood. He had to point it skyward to allow it to grow to its full length. Jeffrey felt the head slither up his back as it grew to its full length. He gasped when Ashe lifted him aloft as if he were a piece of carry on luggage.

The lotion-slick head found its way easily into the finger-stretched hole. Ashe was tapered; his cock grew thicker towards the base. Jeffrey could handle the first few inches, but the last few were going to be murder. Ashe knew his body well, having stretched hundreds of asses on film. He nibbled on Jeffrey’s earlobe to distract him from the blinding pain to come.

Jeffrey was confused. Ashe is supposedly straight, yet he wanted to fuck Jeffrey because he has a teeny weenie peenie. He wanted to spend more time analyzing the strange psychology, but his ass was screaming. Ashe was halfway in, and he was already at the end of the rectum. But then Ashe did something magic. He turned a corner and continued up Jeffrey’s poop chute. It was blissful and intensely painful in equal measure. He whimpered.

“Sh-shh-shhh. Mon ami, you will soon feel only pleasure.” Ashe caressed Jeffrey’s small genitals. He rubbed the little head until clear juice dribbled from the tip. Ashe licked the nectar from his fingers. “Ohh, man, you taste sweeter than pussy.”

Jeffrey could not hear the compliment. His anus was a flood of searing hot pain. Ashe was now two-thirds of the way into Jeffrey. His massive cock was moving deeper into the sigmoid colon. 

Ashe was big around as a summer sausage near the tip, but he was thick as a wine bottle at the base. As he continued to lower Jeffrey onto his meat, the young man’s rectum stretched beyond the limits of his imagination. Ashe was careful to lift Jeffrey up at intervals, to give his tight hole a chance to relax and recover. Then he would lower him further than before. All the while, Ashe peppered him with kisses and whispered encouragement in his ear.

“Yes, you are doing it. You feel so good on my cock. You are a beautiful man.”

Jeffrey winced and groaned. “You’re going to split me in two.”

“Relax, I am an expert. There will be no blood. Only deep satisfaction.”

Jeffrey grew faint as the full realization of his conquest washed over him. Ashe had fully made a woman out of him. The gentle stroking on his genitals felt like he had grown a pussy and Ashe was fingering him. Three-fourths of the way in, Ashe was forcing juice from Jeffrey’s prostate.

The porn star cupped his meaty paw and caught the clear ejaculate. He sampled it, then held it to Jeffrey’s mouth. He slurped his own pre-cum. It was delicious.

Ashe used the momentary distraction as a cover for his final thrust. He was balls deep in his seat mate.

Jeffrey’s feet were back on the ground. He stood yoked ass-to-hip with the huge dick wedged fully inside his anal canal. He was invaded, conquered by this heterosexual porn star. He was a woman, with a drippy clit.

“Are you ready for it”?

Jeffrey nodded, unsure what ‘it’ might be.

Ashe pulled back as far as he could and rammed his meat hard into Jeffrey’s ass. He quickly withdrew as far as the tiny cabin allowed, and pounded again, faster. In seconds, he was fucking like a jackrabbit.

“Oh fuck! Oh god!”

Ashe smiled, “It’s good, n’est-ce pas”?

“Oh Jesus. Oh Lord. It’s…unhhh.” Jeffrey lost his faculties of speech. He could only respond in moans, groans and squeals of pleasure.

Ashe rutted his prey, dominating him, emptying and filling him with his huge porn star dick.  He loved nothing more than making a woman out of a man. He wanted this man ever since he saw his small perfect cock at the urinal. He was straight on camera, but men with little dicks were his weakness.

Despite the confines of the cramped cabin, Ashe lifted Jeffrey and rotated him, so his ass was on the counter, facing his anal invader. Jeffrey wrapped his legs around his intruder’s waist.  Ashe put Jeffrey’s little cock in his mouth. He sucked and swallowed the pussy juice that oozed out with each violent thrust.

Jeffrey discovered Ashe’s short circuit; he twisted his nipples.

“No, you will make me cum.”

Jeffrey let his hands explore the round globes that formed Ashe’s dimpled buttocks. They were lightly furry. Each thrust caused them to tighten. He put a finger between them, feeling the squeeze. He let the finger wander down to the puckered hole.

Ashe grabbed his wrist.

“The last thing that went in there was cut off. I am the man, you are my woman.”

Jeffrey nodded. Ashe kissed him to ease the tension. “You may rub my butt, that feels good.”

Jeffrey concentrated on Ashe’s butt cheeks and powerful hamstrings whose strength drove his massive member so hard into him. The unbearable pain had completely vanished. Each violent thrust of Ashe’s elephantine dick brought only intense orgasmic trembling.  Jeffrey’s legs were shaking involuntarily. Ashe kissed his inner thighs and held his knees to calm him. Jeffrey saw stars. Pleasure washed over him in wave after wave. He had never felt this before. What was it?

“I made your ass have orgasms, eh”? Ashe wore a triumphant smile. “I can make it happen again and again.”

He was right. Over the next five minutes, Jeffrey was reduced to a trembling heap of flesh. He melted into a warm buttery sea of anal orgasms. Ashe didn’t stop. He lived to see that look of unrestrained ecstasy on his sex partner’s face. Women were so easy. Only a few men could have multiple anal orgasms; Ashe had found one. He pounded and pounded until Jeffrey slipped into a trance. He lost control of his bladder, and piss poured out. Luckily, it ran into the sink.

“I fucked the piss out of you.”

Jeffrey’s head lolled. He looked like a junkie after a fix. The giant member in his anus was going to make him faint. The room turned red, and he blacked out. When he came to, Ashe was still fucking him deep and hard. He never wanted anything like he wanted this man’s dick in him, but it was going to make him pass out again. In a gesture of self-preservation, he pinched Ashe’s nipples.

“Are you ready for my cum, woman”?

Jeffrey nodded, focusing intensely on the porn star’s leathery nipples.

“I am ready for yours, too.” Ashe covered Jeffrey’s tiny cock with his mouth and licked it like a clitoris. Jeffrey felt sperm building in his balls. The closer he got to cumming, the harder he twisted Ashe’s nipples.

“Oh, fuck! You are making me cum! Ow!” Ashe bucked and thrusted, grinding his hips into Jeffrey’s tight butt.

Ashe was first. Deep in the sigmoid colon, he let fly his first little spurt. Jeffrey felt it, and it sent him over the edge. He ejaculated his first squirt into the porn star’s mouth. Ashe’s second spurt was a flood. It felt like a sperm enema deep inside Jeffrey’s bowels. Jeffrey, like Ashe, was a strong second shot. He was small, but he carried a huge load of cum. He squirted so much so hard, sperm came out of Ashe’s nose.

Ashe pulled back in astonishment just in time to catch a big wad of sperm in his eye. He opened his mouth and caught the successive squirts as best he could. Sperm got on his shirt, pants, and in his hair. Jeffrey was a lawn sprinkler.

Buried to the balls, Ashe kept shooting load after load up the small-dicked man’s colon and anus. His legs buckled. He was half blinded by Jeffrey’s sperm. He looked like a glazed donut. Jeffrey stopped twisting his nipples. He leaned in and licked his own sperm off of Ashe’s face.

Ashe grew soft. Peristalsis, so violently repressed by the gigantic anal assault, returned with a vengeance. Jeffrey ejected the porn star’s huge flaccid member, releasing a torrent of baby batter in its wake. Ashe’s gargantuan flaccid cock smacked hard onto the toilet lid on its way down. The rivulet of sperm puddled in Ashe’s hand. He offered it to Jeffrey, who obediently lapped up the potent dick juice. 

The two men breathed hard, looking into one another’s eyes. Ashe took command, kissing Jeffrey as he lifted him off the counter. They cleaned one another with rough brown paper towels and warm airplane water.

“Wait a couple minutes.”

Ashe opened the door, adjusted his crotch for maximum exposure, and walked past two stewardesses, winking. They both stared at his massive crotch; they didn’t notice Jeffrey locking the bathroom behind him.

A few minutes later, Jeffrey limped back to his seat. Ashe gave him that winning smile and patted the spot beside him.

“Did I cure your fear of flying, mon ami”?

“That’s putting it lightly.”

He grimaced as he sat next to the best fuck of his life. Ashe offered him a cigarette.

“You will not walk normal for a few days. But it will feel good. You will remember me with every step.”

“It hurts, but you’re right; it feels great.”

The two men smoked in silence. Ashe spoke.

“Do you want to do it again”?

“Hell yes.”

###

Ancient Greek Active

People just assume Hercules is a top. He does too, at least until he meets his superior. Lippos may not be a muscled demigod, but he has Hercules beat in the manhood department. And Hercules discovers, to his delight, that his powers prevent him from feeling pain. He’s the perfect muscle bottom. And Lippos is only too happy to accommodate Hercules’s insatiable hunger for pleasure. Never judge a book by its cover. There’s an ancient greek saying “the thicker the beard, the lighter the heels.” It is often the most masculine men who crave to play the feminine role in a relationship. Hercules was no exception.

Read “Hercules and the Tripod of Thessaly” now.

Statue of Hercules from behind

Bigger wasn’t always better

He feeds him grapes, among other juicy delights

In Ancient Greece, the most desirable men had very small endowments. Just being “above average” was a deal-breaker. Picture massive Hercules with his grotesquely prodigious member, and you can imagine his loneliness. Enter Lippos, the “tripod”, whose length and girth exceed Hercules’s, and the fireworks begin. They fall quickly in love, each providing his mate both with generous accommodation and intense, deep penetration. Add the adventures of sea travel and power politics, you get this muscle epic worthy of Cecil B. De Mille.

The kindle is on pre-sale now for 1.99. After it goes live, the price will revert to 4.99

Click here to buy now

Two new novels unpublished so far…

Besides being an imaginary 20th Century author, I also write literary fiction under my real name. It can be a real time suck.

So you have two novels to look forward to: “Cloistered” set in the Vatican, and “Hercules and the Tripod of Thessaly”, set in ancient times. I wrote them in the evenings before bed, and had a pretty hard time falling asleep without a little…ahem…help. I have yet to publish either, but expect them soon. It will be an enormous weight off my shoulders.

Cumming Soon!
Hercules cumming afterwards