The 20th century author with a colossally warped and perverted penile perspective has taken up an entirely 21st century pursuit: Podcasting. Penises on Parade. Pricks for Kicks. Plop down your meat and pick up the podcast that will make your ears sting.
Peter Schutes’s books lend themselves perfectly to bedtime stories. The literary mind of the author leaps off the page and into your ears. Who could ask for a better companion to your hand while getting in touch with your inner power bottom? Become the fantasy.
This is the first in a series of audio adaptations of Peter Schutes’ Seven Book Series “Daddy’s Boy” sometimes known as “Appalachian Bred”. This early MPREG series introduces the fictitious Monachee Tribe. The Bunch family are a particularly fertile bunch of guys whose fathers make babies with their sons. It’s raunchy, steamy, transgressive, and HOT! The entire series is available now for free!
Peter has written tens of thousands of pages of raw smutty literature. Within those pages are some recurring themes and scenarios. Here, are the 11 most common Peter Schutes tropes.
We chose 11 in honor of the unicorn of dick size – 11 inches.
11. Oops, I got pregnant! In addition to the very common Monachee stories (#2 below), the Male Pregnancy theme is explored in a few contexts. In The Butt Baby, a normal guy gets pregnant from his old high school fuck buddy. In The Expectant Member, through an entirely plausible series of events, a man conceives a baby in his penis, while simultaneously impregnating a Female to Male (FTM) boyfriend. In The Longshoremen, a Kindle Vella story, Ralph is a two-spirit (hermaphrodite) man. Presenting as male, he has both sets of genitalia, and gets pregnant not once but twice, despite having been told he couldn’t conceive.
10. Size, any size, is extremely important in any Peter Schutes novel. Big, small, huge, minuscule, monstrous – nearly every size is extreme. The extreme differences in size are equally fascinating as the men whose manhoods match up. A few characters suffer from penile bigorexia – they’re very big, but not big enough.
9. Fish Out of Water is the theme of many of Peter’s stories. A delicate boy joins the Greek Army in Hercules and Lippos. A cherubic youth rides the rails with vagabonds in Hobo Honey. An innocent young man lands in a rural sheriff’s jail in The Anaconda Copper. In all these stories, the theme is propped up by a masculine protector intervening for the boys’ well-being.
8. Peter always chose macho settings for his novels. The butcher the better. Cops, Sheriffs, Soldiers, Lumberjacks, Bodybuilders, Construction Workers…he created a veritable Village People of hypermasculine characters.
7. Public sex is the secret sauce in many Peter Schutes stories. Miles High sees a porn star with a huge cock fucking tiny Jeff in the airplane bathroom. Peter Schutes’ own story is rife with public venues. His scenes in The Autobiography of Peter Schutes, set in the basement of Filene’s Department Store, rival anything Jean Genet produced.
6. Many Peter Schutes books explore gay venues before Stonewall. Whether it’s the seedy waterfront bars of Fortaleza in The Able Seaman, a bath house in Peru in Confessions of a Rodeo Clown, or the speakeasies of New Orleans in Panama Heat, Peter describes a strange mixture of repression and freedom. The bars and baths are often illegal, but once inside, all rules are cast aside in favor of bold, unabashed sex.
5. A half dozen Peter Schutes novels involve a well hung man meeting and/or falling in love with a man in possession of a gigantic monster cock. In Hercules and Lippos, Hercules is well hung; Lippos’s cock drags on the ground. Buck is too big for most, Stack is too big for everyone.
4. Travel and escape figure large in Peter’s novels. Young men set sail or fly to distant lands, whether it’s a Mexican Priest heading to the Vatican in Cloistered, a high school graduate enlisting in the Merchant Marines in The Able Seaman, or an entitled heir traveling to work on the Panama Canal in Panama Heat. In every way, the travel leaves the men changed forever.
3. A common variant in Peter’s novels is the horse hung loner who finds another monster-hung man. Together, they make sweet love. This is a sub-theme in the Big, Bigger, Biggest series on Amazon. Hobo Honey is a classic example of this.
2. Peter wrote an awful lot of Male Pregnancy (MPREG) story lines. The majority involve the Monachee, hill people in Appalachia who possess gigantic penises and the ability to conceive anally. They tend to keep it in the family, so incest zig-zags across the theme as well. These include Daddy’s Boy aka Appalachian Bred, and the Vella story The Orchardman.
1. The king of all Peter Schutes story lines: the naive, puerile young man with a tiny penis meets a brooding older man with a penis so huge, it defies logic. Despite all odds, the little guy learns to take the big guy. Of course this leads to love. These books are classified on Amazon as The Big and The Small of It.
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.
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.
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.
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 think we’ll have a whole garden planted by the end of the night.” He was right.
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.
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.
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?”
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.
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.”
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.
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.”
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.
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.
“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!
Bradley was addicted to Indian Bingo. Every Friday night after he collected his pay, he drove to the reservation where they played Bingo for $1.00 a card. He wasn’t married. His girlfriend had left him when the addiction first started. So when he lost half a paycheck chasing that Bingo high, he only hurt himself.
Bradley was not well hung. In fact, he was two inches below average. This weighed on his thoughts every waking hour except when he was playing Bingo. The excitement and the money and the camaraderie kept his mind off of his painfully small penis. Bradley had a handsome face, with piercing blue eyes and high cheekbones. He wore a scruffy beard that brought out his fine features and made him attractive to the ladies.
It was Friday, and Bradley needed a fix. He drove to the Bingo Hall and bought four cards for the first game. He sat down at his usual spot, anxiously waiting for the caller to start the game. To his consternation, a big hulk of a man sat down across from him, blocking his view of the podium. The man wore a huge smile.
“Name’s Ed.” He extended a hand. They shook.
“Bradley. I ain’t seen you around before.”
Ed winked. “I only show up where I’m needed.”
Bradley frowned, trying to figure out what Ed meant by that. He shrugged. The caller took the podium.
“First game is a simple Bingo. Just one row Horizontally, Vertically, or Diagonally. First number…” He rolled the bingo cage until a ball popped out. “B 13. B 13.”
Ed said, “That’s my lucky number, Brad.”
Bradley was annoyed. He wanted to concentrate on the game. With four cards, it was too easy to miss something jacking jaws with your table mates.
Ed said, “I got a surprise for you if they call O 69.”
Bradley shook his head, as if trying to get rid of a fly.
Sure enough, the next number was O 69.
Ed clapped his hands in front of Bradley and the room disappeared. Ed and Bradley were seated on a bench in an empty park.
Bradley jumped to his feet. “What the fuck? Where the fuck are we?”
Ed patted Bradley on the shoulder. “We’re right where you need to be right now.” He waved his hand, and the two of them were completely naked.
Bradley instinctively reached down a hand to cover himself. Then he saw Ed’s appendage. Two hands wouldn’t be enough to hide it. It hung to his knees. Despite himself, Bradley felt his tiny penis growing hard behind his hand. He wasn’t normally into dudes, but something as big as Ed’s cock was like an aphrodisiac. Bradley blushed.
Ed grinned. “You like it. You want it. Am I right?”
“You can have it, but you have to let me fuck you.”
Bradley said, “I don’t get it.”
“Let me explain. I was like you once. Even smaller. I was so small, my only choice was to get fucked. So that’s what I did. I’ve had armies of men inside me. It made me forget how small I was, and I loved it.
“Then one day, walking on the reservation, I found a wishing stone. If you rub a wishing stone while speaking aloud your wish, it will come true. I was a little vindictive. I wanted revenge on the men with normal cocks who’d fucked me all those years. I asked to have the ability to steal their size. Any man who fucked me would lose an inch, and I would gain an inch.”
Bradley sat up. This was interesting.
Ed said, “I was greedy. I let a dozen men fuck me before I realized I had grown too big. I tried to give back the size I’d stolen, but those men wouldn’t let me near their ass.”
Bradley smiled. “Are you saying that if I somehow let you fuck me with that thing, I can be your size?”
Ed nodded. “I’d rather give you half. There’s no sense in being this big.”
Bradley dropped his jeans and bent over the bench. “Let’s get this over with.”
Ed placed the fist-sized head of his throbbing cock at Bradley’s virgin hole. He spit several times until it was slick, then tried pushing in.
Bradley felt the intense pain as his tight hole began to stretch. At the same time, he felt a stirring in his cock, as though it had let go and grown just a tiny bit. It was more intoxicating than Bingo.
Ed said, “Am I hurting you?”
Bradley nodded. “Yeah, but keep going. I want this.”
Ed pushed in until Bradley bucked. “Should I stop?”
Bradley shook his head fiercely. There was too much to gain from this pain.
Ed pushed until there was an audible pop. His head was past the sphincter now. Bradley, on all fours, tilted his head to watch his penis grow with each forward thrust.
Ed pushed easily until he hit the second door. Getting past that could be a real challenge, especially with a virgin like Bradley.
“If I just fuck you here, you’ll gain about four inches and I’ll lose four. Is that enough?”
Bradley said, “Hell, no! I want more!”
Ed said, “Good, because I wanted to lose a lot more than four inches. But this is going to hurt.”
Bradley didn’t care. He felt that bizarre sensation where it seems like the cock just tore a hole in your rectum. In reality, it was pushing past the rectum into the sigmoid colon. Bradley wished he’d discovered anal sex earlier. He would have been a fairy if it meant feeling this good. Of course, the pleasure was amplified by the sight of his tiny penis growing bigger with each of Ed’s painful thrusts.
Ed said, “I have to come inside you or it doesn’t take. I hope that’s okay.”
Bradley looked between his legs. There were at least seven soft inches between his thighs. He was a grower, too. This was perfect.
“Yeah, it’s perfect right now. Are you close?”
Ed nodded. He picked up the pace, carefully thrusting only as deep as he had been. But the thrill of losing his size had him excited. When the orgasm came, he got too excited and pushed all the way to the root. Bradley’s cock rivaled a horse. When Ed pulled out, he shrunk to a mere nipple. He smiled at Bradley.
“Looks like you’re going to have to fuck me now, to even it out.”
Bradley looked admiringly at Ed’s powerful frame. “I could make a habit out of this.”
Peter wrote about male pregnancy in a different time, when gender roles were more rigid than they are now. Modern MPREG is soft, gentle, more romance than smut. Peter’s work, best described by the Japanese term “bara” – is hard, rough and extremely sexual. While modern MPREG often relies on aliens or other supernatural forces to explain the pregnancy, Peter’s work relies on plausible scientific explanations, as you will read below.
Most of Peter’s books we’ve uncovered so far are about anal pregnancy among a tribe called the Monachee. The forthcoming novel, The Expectant Member, is about Milo, a horse-hung but otherwise ordinary man who gets pregnant in his massive penis. Because of his extraordinary size, he is able to carry the gestating embryo.
How did Milo get pregnant? In a twist, it was when he was having vaginal sex with Jordan, a trans man, who also gets pregnant. Milo’s huge member creates a tight seal, and the suction causes one of Jordan’s eggs to dislodge and enter Milo’s urethra. It travels to the bladder, becoming a zygote in the long cum-soaked passageway. The next time Milo pees, the embryo attaches itself to the urethra.
These are two ways a man can get pregnant. Jordan is a man with a vagina and uterus; his pregnancy is entirely plausible – in fact it has already happened. Milo’s pregnancy is pure fiction.
Wilbur waited at the gate for his flight back to Albuquerque. He dreaded the long, boring pep talks at Limon headquarters. Every three months, Limon Corporation required the sales staff to fly to Topeka and endure the long-winded talks from the CEO. Wilbur was sales support, a technical role that had absolutely no business listening to the incessant bullshit they were shoveling. The only thing about these trips that he enjoyed was the time away from the wife and kids.
When Wilbur was younger, his classmates bullied him. It was deep cruelty because Wilbur had the shortest, thinnest penis in gym class. They called him “Clitty Boy” and “Pinky.” When Juan, his supposed best friend, joined in, it was almost too much to bear.
Juan took Wilbur aside. “Listen, man, I know this hurts, but you got to hear it. With a dick like that, no woman is gonna want you.”
It was easy for Juan to say. He had a dick hanging halfway to his knees. All the women were going to want him. But surprisingly, things turned out different. As they got older, Juan grew less interested in women. Wilbur, on the other hand, had benefitted from his reputation. It turns out, a lot of women prefer their men on the small side. And even though it was short, it could shoot like a rocket. Wilbur got his high school sweetheart pregnant at the Senior Prom. They were married, and had three more kids after that.
What Wilbur never told her was that his friendship with Juan was more than platonic. Juan taught Wilbur how to make his ass into a pussy. Every time they got together, they had a few beers, then Juan would cram his dick in. At first it hurt so bad that Wilbur cried. But practice makes perfect. So long as they hung out every weekend, it got easier. Soon, Juan was able to slip inside Wilbur like he was fucking a cow. It was their secret.
The problem with these trips away was that Wilbur missed being with Juan. His ass tightened back up, and it was painful the next time they fucked. Then Wilbur discovered the Turkish Baths in Topeka. His little pee-pee attracted the big guys like flies to shit. In Kansas, those corn fed boys were hung huge. Many were bigger than Juan. They fucked like horny dogs. On more than one occasion, Wilbur left the baths with a breeze blowing up his gaping hole.
This weekend had been a bust. It was Harvest Festival, and all the men went to the fairgrounds with their wives and kids, not to the Turkish Baths. The place was barren; Wilbur didn’t get fucked like he needed. He could feel his trap door closing and tightening. He didn’t know what to do.
Then his prayers were answered. A big corn fed dope in a black cowboy hat plopped down across from him, legs spread wide. A huge grin covered his face. Wilbur glanced down out of habit and gasped aloud.
“Yep, it’s all me.” The Kansan hunk put his hand on the mid-shaft and rubbed it gently. Wilbur felt his tiny penis harden. The man’s cock showed completely in his Wranglers. It bulged across his upper thigh. The head wrapped around so it almost touched his ass. It was at least as big as Juan, but it was getting bigger.
“Man, I think I need some help. Can you help me?” It was a simple but effective line. Wilbur nodded and followed the man into the terminal men’s room. It was busy, but it took no time for the two to get into a large stall together unnoticed.
Wilbur loved huge cocks. Juan’s colossal cock showed him pleasure his wife could never give. The small ones weren’t enough. Wilbur loved how his small penis lured men who were bigger than average. This time, he landed a whale.
The Kansas hunk struggled to get his skin-tight jeans past his massive cock and ass. When he finally got free, the tree trunk of flesh swung skyward. The Kansan grabbed Wilbur by the ears and forced his cock into his mouth, barely. The head was too big, and the corona couldn’t get past Wilbur’s teeth.
“I thought you faggots were good at giving head.”
“I’m not a…” Wilbur realized it was pointless to deny that he liked men. But he didn’t identify as gay. He was a married man who found pleasure being with men.
“Not a what?”
“I’m not into oral. Are you into fucking?”
The Kansan grinned again. “Hell yeah. My wife don’t let me do nothing to her. I gotta jack off and squirt inside her, and she squeals like a stuck pig even then. You would let me fuck you?” He held out his cock, which was several inches longer and much thicker than anything Wilbur had tried before.
Wilbur dropped his pants and put his hands on the toilet seat. “Fuck my ass.”
A few loogies and a lot of spit later, the Kansas man was slippery enough to push his way in. It felt like the first time with Juan. Wilbur cried from the combination of pain, pleasure and nostalgia. This man might ruin him. As the head popped past the inner sphincter, Wilbur cried out.
“I can stop. I’m hurting you.”
Wilbur reached back until he felt the man’s thigh. He pulled him closer. Inside, he could feel the cock stretching him like a water balloon. It hit the end, and there was still more to go. Then the Kansan did something new. He lifted Wilbur’s right hip and kept going. The head popped past a hole then Wilbur never knew existed. He nearly fainted. It was terribly painful for about three seconds.
The pain was replaced with a tingling sensation that grew and grew. It was like an orgasm, but it came from his butt. Wilbur’s little dick dripped juice on the floor. The muscular stranger rested his hips against Wilbur’s ass, filling him as far as he could go.
“You ready for this?”
Wilbur nodded vigorously.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
Wilbur said, “Just fuck me, man.”
And the Kansan obliged. His thrusts were short and gentle at first. After a minute, he picked up the pace and lengthened his strokes. Each out stroke pulled the head out of that deep hole, and each in stroke pushed it in with a loud pop. It sounded like someone was spanking their kid. The bathroom was so busy and noisy, nobody noticed.
Wilbur felt dizzy. Each time that head popped in and out of the inner hole, he felt spasms of pleasure wracking his body. The fat cock got fatter. Now a steady stream of clear drool dripped from the end of Wilbur’s dick.
“You come like a woman, don’t you?” It wasn’t an insult, just an observation.
Wilbur grunted. They continued to bump and grind with abandon. The Kansan never stopped accelerating. Soon his cock was a blur as it thrust back and forth into Wilbur’s wrecked asshole. Then Wilbur felt something completely new. The tingling that started when the Kansan poked that hole was building, and it reached a tipping point. Suddenly, Wilbur’s entire body was throbbing. The muscles in his gut were contracting in rapid waves, massaging the fat cock inside them.
“What the fuck is that? Goddamn boy, you’re gonna get me off.” The Kansan threw his head back and hollered like a cowboy. “Fuck! God damn!”
He fired shot after shot of cum inside Wilbur. Each time he came, his cock swelled, pressing against the walls. Without touching himself, Wilbur blew his load in big clumps on the floor.
“Damn boy. You ain’t got much of a gun, but you got plenty of ammo.”
They cleaned up with toilet paper and ass gaskets, flushing the evidence of their crime. Wilbur wasn’t going to hear his farts for a month. The muscle bound Kansan grabbed Wilbur by the shoulders and tried to kiss him.
Wilbur had never kissed a man before. He started to back away, but the man was too quick. He put his tongue down his throat. Wilbur liked it. He felt safe with this man.
Back at their seats in the terminal, the cowboy leaned forward. “Name’s Kirk. What takes you to Albuquerque?”
“Me too.” He leaned forward and gave Wilbur his business card. He sold livestock supplies. “I’d sure like your repeat business.”
@PeterSchutes is producing illustrated micro-smut on Twitter. What is micro-smut? It’s extremely short fiction, limited to 280 characters. The challenge is to turn on the reader in just a few words. Below are a few of the best:
Alec put Ralph on the sofa and held one leg aloft. This allowed him to fuck ferociously from the side. Ralph had never seen such a big dick, and now it was thrusting harder and harder in his ass. The pain subsided. Alec was an expert fucker.
After two terrible minutes, my ass started to remember Cody’s fat cock. I groaned and pushed back hard, trying to squeeze every single inch of him up in my guts. His hips squished my butt. He still had two or three inches to go.
Zeke wanted to go on Spring Break with his hot gymnast roommate Chuck, but there wasn’t any swimsuit that could contain him. He would be the object of ridicule on the beach. He pictured his massive cock straining to escape his banana hammock.
We found a deeply personal poem written by Peter, bemoaning the burden of being huge. If you thought you could unveil his psychology through his stories, this poem will be like opening his calvarium and staring directly at his brain.
Come with me, I'll show you why Too much of a good thing can make you cry Like a horse caught in a bear trap
It isn't you who'll do the crying For you'll refuse me Once the flesh that so enticed you Sees the light of night
First one button, then the next Should lead to glorious sex Not screams of fear And shouts of doubt That end with you simply walking out Leaving me turgid and exposed with my obscenity in my hand
I don't wish it to shrink Despite what you think I want my frame to grow to match it And live among giants Who find my obscenity average or small And who have no problem at all Accommodating me to the root So I may plant the seeds of passion Deep where they belong Not cast aside like a mustard seed That lands on my stone chest With its heavy heart
Obscenity is man's invention Crafted by the envious who crave the attention That I cannot avoid
At the party the men gaze longingly And force their way so they can see The flesh that causes terror And they know they've made an error Like a mouse that takes the cheese But they can give it back Before the trap can snap Then leave the cheese to mourn Its deadly enticement
You can, ahem, “sample our wares” in a number of places. There are three primary places where Peter’s prose has landed like a colossal floppy cock hitting the thigh just above the knee. There you will find all his works in the three primary “Happily Ever After”niches:
Three Primary Niches
Lonely Big Dick meets Lonely Small Dick and vice versa
Lonely Big Dick meets AboveAverage Joe and vice versa
Big Dick and/or Little Dick gets pregnant
Where to Find Free Big Dick and MPREG Erotica by Peter
On Smashwords, entire novels are offered up for free. The selection rotates every so often, so you might even get lucky and find your wish list filled. When you sign up for the mailing list right here on this site, you get 5 free short stories that will curl the hairs on your balls. Luckily, shorter ball hairs make your dick look bigger. Unlike many unscrupulous smut peddlers, we have sense enough to know that sending you more than four emails per year is just plain obnoxious. The emails are SFW so we can all have that HEA ending.
Find Peter on Twitter This is an excellent source for tiny samples we like to call micro-porn. Twitter’s format forces us to reduce Peter’s lengthy prose into just the naughty bits that convey the joy and pain of being big, being small, or taking a big one. Bonus here is if you follow Peter, you’ll see a tweet with a link to a free novel. Also, the real-life author behind the writing likes to post the occasional erotic selfie.
Yes, that’s right. When we stumble across fragments or short stories that haven’t been anthologized, we can’t easily sell them. So you, dear blog subscriber, reap the benefits. Not only do you get to read never-before-seen fiction, you also catch glimpses into Peter’s prodigious penile psychology.
Peter’s books have always sold in a slow, irregular trickle. Part of the reason is that Amazon doesn’t let erotica authors advertise on their platform. There are other ways to advertise; however, until recently, we hadn’t tried anything other than this blog and the occasional tweet.
A week ago, we asked a casual question of a fellow erotica author that led to a big change in our approach. Successful gay erotica author Jean Valjean recommended animated gifs and a jukebox tool that allows us to create a few dozen salacious tweets that trickle out in random order four times a day. We’re up to 150 backlogged tweets and will likely stop at 500.
Creating 150 unique tweets from Peter’s books (mostly) was eye-opening. We never stopped to check our editing jobs on the books. WOW. It’s hard to market a bunch of books that still need a polish or two. Being forced to say something arousing in 280 characters or less makes for extremely concise edits. Adverbs and adjectives are the first to go. Names get replaced with “he”. Entire descriptive sentences vanish, leaving the raw act of sex exposed.
With this new mindset, PS publishing vows to edit every book again. Right now, the books are in a genre that we probably invented called “Anatomical Smut.” If you’ve read Peter’s works, you know that he spends an inordinate amount of time describing how massive size impacts the innards of the bottom and the life of the top. When a male character gets pregnant, the book is essentially written from inside the colon. We’re going to keep looking through his hoard of manuscripts to see if some were rewritten as gay romance, which didn’t even exist as a genre until the 1970’s.
So look for some revisions to Peter’s novels in the weeks and months to come.
If you’re interested in the steamy Twitter ad campaign, which is much more polished than the books, check out Peter’s Twitter
UPDATE: There are over 1,500 tweets stacked up in the jukebox now, and dozens more added each week. Be sure to check out the Twitter feed. It’s a smorgasbord of big fat dicks.
We’re on the eve of publishing a 25,000 word erotic romance called “Deceived, Cursed, and Blessed”. Set in the 1930s in Chicago and Hollywood, the novel follows the story of Max Anderson, a man who makes a deal with a demon to have the biggest dick in town. Like most bargains with diabolical wish-granters, the result is disastrous.
Max and his lover have to find a way out of the diabolical pact: a Rumpelstiltskin clause.
If you’re a fan of brodbingnagian appendages, romance, and turns of the screw, this is the novella to read. ‘Deceived, Cursed, and Blessed’ will be available in paperback and e-book on Amazon, Smashwords, and at your favorite e-book retailers in January 2022.
Link to paperback pre-sale will appear here when available
I don’t have the patience to read a gay erotic romance, so I’m not sure how far Peter’s anatomically outrageous smut lies from such a genre. If I take out a lot of explicit description and replace it with euphemisms, will these otherwise romantic HEA stories be something of interest to a wider reading populace?
Here’s my concern – Peter’s stories are all centered around the phallus, whether huge or tiny (and rarely anything in between). American society has such a phobia of the penis. Hollywood can easily show a nude woman, front and back, but they get an X-rating if they show an erect penis. If the penis is soft, it’s still NC-17, as if this magnificent organ were far more shameful than war and murder.
So my fear, of course, is that I have to leave the penis in there, or the whole story falls apart. So much of the plot is driven by the loneliness or shame that men feel when their privates don’t conform to the norm. Can I successfully write Big Dick Romance, or will I have to leave Peter’s works in their current gut-pounding gay pulp genre? Should I write as a woman? It’s not that I need to make a lot of money; I just want to feel like I have a true readership who is excited for my next romance.
We found a terrific Peter Schutes novel in an unopened suitcase. The premise is that a young man with a little penis meets a demon who he believes to be the Devil. The demon promises him the biggest dick in town in exchange for his soul. What the protagonist doesn’t realize is that it will change in size and shape depending on what town he’s in! It came with a clause, too. Nobody will remember him for more than a few minutes.
Peter didn’t leave any clue as to a title. Our intern came up with “The Monkey’s Pudendum” but it’s just not clever enough. So you, dear reader, are the lucky ones who get to suggest a title. In exchange, you will win a free copy of the paperback when it comes out. (Or ebook if you prefer not to give your snail mail address).
So put on your thinking caps and send up to three suggestions for the title to this ironic tale.
PLEASE POST YOUR TITLE SUGGESTION(S) IN THE COMMENTS SECTION. THE BEST TITLE WILL BE USED FOR THE BOOK AND THE WINNER WILL GET A FREE COPY OF THE PAPERBACK OR EBOOK.
Hobo Honey – a free erotic novella set in the hobo jungles of Depression-era United States.
Riding the rails was no life for a beauty like Fred Talmadge. His face was too pretty to be covered in all that soot. Riding from Dallas to St. Louis, he shared a boxcar with a thick hunk of meat named Idaho Jones. Idaho felt protective of the pretty boy with nowhere else to go. Hobos don’t get a lot of sex, and when they do, it isn’t always mutually consensual. It’s almost always with other hobos. No women hang out in the hobo jungles or ride the rails except for a few bull dykes. Idaho preferred women, but only if they preferred him. He hadn’t been with a woman in a long time. Freddy was starting to look mighty appealing. But Idaho was a hobo with principles. He would never take advantage of a young soul. But if Fred wanted it, Idaho would be happy to give it to him.
Idaho was the humble owner of a gigantic cock. Hanging nearly to his knees, the monster, as he called it, was enough to scare away even the most cock-hungry slut out there. He had met a few loose women who could take him halfway. They never walked right afterwards.
Fred interrupted Idaho’s thoughts. “You got a cigarette, sir?”
“Call me Idaho, son. Yeah, Lucky Strikes means fine tobacco.” He held out the pack and Fred gently removed one cigarette.
“You got a light?”
Idaho chuckled and flicked his Zippo, holding the flame out for Fred to suck. That boy sure had beautiful lips. Idaho would like to kiss him but he stuck to the code of the road. Fred wasn’t making it easy for him, though. The boy held Idaho’s hand to steady the flame; the touch of another human being was rare.
“Thanks, Idaho. Damn, your hands are huge!” Fred caressed Idaho’s mitts. They were rough against the smooth touch of the young man.
Idaho looked the kid up and down. He had apple cheeks and bright blue peepers. On top of his head was a curly mop of black hair. He had a thin mustache and a scraggly beard so faint you could only see it in the sunlight.
The older hobo felt a stirring in his loins. His gigantic cock swelled involuntarily. He cleared his throat and withdrew his hands. He saw Fred’s face fall.
“You don’t like me touching you, do you?”
Idaho shook his head. “It’s not that. It’s complicated.”
Fred batted his pretty eyelashes. “Let’s uncomplicate things.” He reached over and felt for Idaho’s cock. He found it and grinned.
“Holy shit, that’s thick!”
Idaho nodded, awaiting the inevitable withdrawal of the offer.
“Can I see it?”
This was torture. The kid would probably agree to a hand job, but Idaho liked fucking. This was The reason he rode the rails in the first place. He was so sick of being rejected for being too big. Away from society, it rarely happened. But here it was, and it was happening.
Fred said, “Oh come on man, I really wanna see it!”
Idaho shrugged. The faster he got this over with, the better. He stood, holding on to the side of the boxcar, and unfastened his overalls, letting them drop. His manhood was half hard, swinging back and forth with the rocking of the train. “There. What do you think?”
Fred’s eyes hung open like a jaw on a cartoon cat. “Fucking huge. You’re the biggest I ever seen. And I’ve seen a lot!”
Idaho wanted this hand to fold. “So can I fuck you?”
Fred pulled out a tub of Vaseline. “I hope there’s enough in here!”
The old hobo wasn’t expecting things to progress. He didn’t want to hurt this frail beauty of a young man. The kid was so eager, it confused him. “If you’ve never seen one so big, what makes you think you can take it?”
Fred put a glob of Vaseline at the base of Idaho’s cock, and stroked. Soon the thick meat was glistening. For good measure, the boy spit in his hands to make the cock even more slippery. He spit in his hand and rubbed it on his pink hole. “I had a lot of other stuff in there. Fists and arms. I learned to love it in school. I can take it.”
Idaho grew faint as the blood rushed to his cock, which, despite gravity, stuck straight out. It was over a foot long. One in a billion. He grinned at the kid, who smiled back before getting on his knees, his head buried in his arms, giving Idaho a straight shot.
The massive man took one knee and bumped his cock head against the boy’s pink box. Fred held the tip and shoved it inside. Idaho was astonished at how easily the head went in. He leaned forward, forcing more of his gigantic meat inside the kid’s shitter. The boy let out a cry of pain.
Idaho tried to pull back, but the boy held his cock firmly and forced more and more inside his hole.
“Go all the way, man, I can take it.”
Idaho shrugged. Fuck it. The kid would scream and it would all be over. He walked forward on his knees, pushing inch after inch into the bottomless hole.
Fred shrieked like a schoolgirl. “Yes! Yes! Keep going! Deeper!”
Idaho was halfway in, much further than he usually got. He was glad he’d showered at the public pool that morning. There he got a lot of stares but no takers. Now he was halfway to paradise.
“Is it all the way in?”
“Nope. I got another six or seven inches to go.”
“Oh fuck, Idaho, you’re so fucking huge. You’re making me wet.”
Idaho glanced down at the boy’s tiny shriveled penis. Sure enough, it was dripping with semen, forced out by the pressure of his thick cock against the prostate. This made him even harder. He had reached the end of the kid’s poop chute. He felt pressure build as he pressed against the back wall.
Then the kid did something amazing. He twisted to one side, and suddenly his cock popped through an opening. It made an audible ‘pop!’ as it broke through. At first, Idaho thought he might have torn the poor boy open.
“What happened? Are you okay?”
Fred laughed. He lifted his head and turned back to stare at Idaho. “You popped through the second hole. Go for it! I’m all yours.”
Idaho nearly cried for joy as he slid another four inches of flesh into the boy. When he realized there was no resistance, he went the whole way. Just as his hips touched the boy’s ass cheeks, his cock bumped into another wall.
“Yes! That’s it! You got to the second wall! Keep pushing!”
Idaho only had an inch or two left. The boy spread his cheeks far apart, allowing the older man to bury himself to the hilt. His rough pubic hairs tickled the boy’s butt. He withdrew a couple of inches and slammed in hard.
“Harder! Don’t hold back! I need it, man!”
Idaho lifted the boy by his stomach to allow him to fuck in and out hard and fast. To his surprise, he could feel his own cock as it slithered up the boy’s hole.
“Watch this.” Fred grabbed Idaho’s shoulder and rotated until he was facing his lover. Now Idaho could see the outline of his cock as it forced its way to places most men never knew existed. The kid had talent.
To his surprise, Fred lifted himself until their lips met. They kissed passionately as Idaho pounded away. He took shallow strokes at first, but when the kisses grew more intense, he increased the length of his stroke, popping out of the second hole and back in. Each time, he heard that popping noise that sounded a little like someone smacking a bare butt.
Idaho let a few tears of joy escape. They traveled down his face, joining the kiss as a salty surprise.
Fred looked at Idaho. “Why are you crying?”
“You’ve made me so happy!”
The kid grinned. “Fucking is the best. Everybody wins!” Idaho noticed how his stubble had reddened the boy’s mouth to match his apple cheeks. He also felt his hairy tummy growing wet from the boy’s precum. The tiny penis was hard now. It felt like a thumb as it pressed up against him.
Idaho closed his eyes and started fucking the way he had always wanted to, but never could until now. When he opened his eyes, sweat pouring down his face, he saw the boy’s eyes glazed over with ecstasy. The kid’s mouth moved, but no words came out. Idaho needed to stop worrying about him. It was time for him to be selfish. His powerful hips rocked back and forth like a locomotive. The length of his strokes brought his cock head all the way to the boy’s asshole and then all the way to the second wall in less than a second. It was far too powerful for a normal person. Fred wasn’t normal.
“You okay?” He thought he should ask.
The kid made the OK symbol with his thumb and forefinger. His head lolled from side to side in time with the rocking of the caboose.
Idaho was close. He could feel his cock leaving slippery trails of precum in Fred’s ass. His balls churned as though they were a living creature. They pulled up tightly against Fred’s cock, preparing for the upcoming parade of semen.
“You ready, son?”
Fred nodded. “Yes, Daddy.”
That word was just too much for Idaho. “Oh fuck! I’m gonna come!”
“Yeah, I’m gonna come.”
Fred said, “Me too.”
And without touching himself, the boy shot a massive load from his tiny dick, hitting Idaho on the chin, and covering his face and the floor behind him with the sticky mess.
“Unhhh!” Idaho was beyond words now. He erupted, spewing molten lava deep inside the boy. After eight squirts, he was still going. All told, he shot thirteen times during this one orgasm.
The kid leaned back. His smile was a reward. Idaho had never finished up a fuck with a smiling partner. They usually made horrible grimaces and looked away. And these were women who could only take half of him. They didn’t have another hole for him to fuck deeper. This boy did.
Idaho was about to pull away. The boy grabbed his arm.
“Don’t. Stay inside me. Let’s do it again.”
The words were an aphrodisiac. His spent cock sprang to life again, buried inside the boy. The kid reached up and rubbed Idaho’s furry chest, tracing circles around the nipples before he pinched both of them very hard. Nobody had ever done that to Idaho before. He was startled by how much it turned him on.
“Keep doing that while I fuck you.”
There it was again. That word. He jackrabbit in and out in shallow strokes until he was fully hard, then switched to longer strokes. Pop! The cock pushed in and out of the second hole. The boy was nearly torturing his tits. But it was the least he could do to let him, since he was giving him such a merciless fucking. With one hand on Idaho’s nipple, Fred reached around and put a wet finger against the man’s hole. He wormed his finger inside. It was painful, but Idaho allowed it. He never understood how any guy could stand to be fucked. But Fred clearly loved it. Between the nipple and the finger, he was hurting a little. Then Fred pressed against his prostate. Idaho’s mind was blown. He spread more precum throughout the kid’s guts. It came in buckets.
“Shit! That feels so good.”
Fred nodded. “I know. How about now?”
Fred snuck a second finger in, allowing him to press even harder while he stretched Idaho’s hole. Idaho was a confident man. But this boy had him doubting his masculinity. He had never let anyone inside him like that. It was like being a woman. But if felt really good. With each additional finger, Idaho felt his inhibitions lift. He wanted the boy to penetrate him. His little cock wouldn’t be able to, but his hand sure could. He gasped when the thumb joined its fingers inside him. Fred pushed his Vaseline coated fist into Idaho. Each time Idaho drew back, he got a fistful of fingers. Fred was persistent and talented. Once his hand popped in, he didn’t let it out. He just let each stroke Idaho took help him bury his fist deeper inside the man.
Pretty soon, it was Fred who was doing all the fucking. Idaho stayed buried deep inside the boy who was forearm deep. The older man could feel as the pretty boy pushed his fist through the second hole, and heard the same popping noise he heard earlier.
Fred fucked Idaho hard with his arm, popping in and out of the second hole with abandon. Idaho was still rock hard, and close to coming again. The pressure at his prostate was pushing out a lot of clear sticky liquid. When Fred got to the elbow, Idaho had an orgasm. It wasn’t his cock. He was quivering hard inside. His ass was coming. He writhed upon the boy’s arm, feeling his fingers tickling his guts somewhere deep inside.
“Oh fuck man! Fuck!”
Fred punched hard, coming all the way out of Idaho’s hole then going elbow deep. It was both excruciating and exquisite. The pain and the pleasure could not be separated out. They became one. Suddenly, the older man’s balls pulled up tight.
Fred nodded. He pulled his fist out of Idaho and leaned back, enjoying the hot sticky sensation as the cum pooled deep inside him. Idaho couldn’t believe how hard and how much he came, even more than the first time. He felt a hot spray on his furry tummy and realized that Fred had come a second time as well, again without touching himself.
“How do you do that?”
Fred shrugged. “It’s just one of my many talents.”
Idaho looked Fred Talmadge in the eyes. “Will you do that again for me?”
“I was just going to ask you the same thing, after bumming a cigarette.”
The young hobo and his older companion rode the rails together. In the hobo jungles, they always found an out-of-the-way place to fuck and fist. The youth was father to the man in all things sexual. He showed him pleasures most of us only dream about.
One night Idaho asked, “What do you want to do with your life?”
Fred answered, “I’m ambitious. I want to keep doing this forever.”
Idaho had a good friend who rode along the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe lines. His nickname was “Dumbo” because he had a cock that hung down like a baby elephant trunk. The two had commiserated over the impossibility of finding anyone. For a while, they had a convenient friendship: they jacked each other off. It was hard work, but it was easier than jacking themselves off. The touch of someone else’s hand slicked up with spit, with eyes closed, was a turn-on. Kissing made it feel like sex.
One day in the Kansas City rail yards, Idaho and Fred bumped into Dumbo. He would know those smoldering green eyes and chiseled jaw anywhere.
“Idaho! How the fuck you been?”
“Good, Dumbo. Real good.” He motioned with his eyes to his lover. “This here’s Fred.”
“Fred, Fred Talmadge, sir.” The boy shook the handsome man’s hand. It was a beautiful hand, worthy of a Dorothea Lange photograph. It told a hundred stories in its cracks and crevices.
“Dumbo. Dumbo Colman.” His eyes lingered on the pretty boy’s red lips. In a dress, he could pass as a girl. “So how do you know a sonofabitch like Idaho?”
Fred blushed. “He, uh. He’s—“
Idaho cut in. “We’re running buddies. We look out for each other.”
Dumbo frowned. “How does a dainty fellow like Fred here look out for you?”
Fred and Idaho exchanged glances. Fred nodded.
“Well, Fred here is the only guy in the lower 48 who can take me.”
Dumbo’s jaw dropped. “That’s impossible. You’re even bigger than me.”
Idaho shrugged. “Miracles can happen.”
Dumbo frowned. “Does this mean we’re not gonna ‘take care of each other’ like we used to?”
Idaho knew Fred would do anything he told him to do. He was supposed to protect the young man, but he also wanted to do Dumbo a favor. “I’m sure we can work something out.”
* * *
Fred knew what was in Idaho’s mind. He was satisfied beyond all reason with his lover’s monstrous cock nearly splitting him open every night. But he was ambitious. He always wanted something more. Fred knew if he didn’t speak up, he might miss an opportunity.
“Why do they call you Dumbo?”
The man didn’t say anything, just dropped his dungarees, exposing an elephantine cock that wasn’t nearly as thick as Idaho’s, but it was definitely longer. It dangled to his knee half hard.
Fred swallowed and looked at his lover. “Idaho, if you want to let Dumbo fuck me, I wouldn’t mind.”
Idaho smiled. “I think you’ll enjoy it.” He dug in his napsack and gave the Vaseline to Fred.
Fred studied his lover to see if there were traces of jealousy in his smile. No, it was different. Idaho and Dumbo had once belonged to each other. It was a deeper love than just sex. They had been companions. Idaho just wanted to share his good fortune. That’s what the smile said.
The boxcar was half full of hay, which made for a comfortable ride. Fred put Dumbo’s cock in his mouth because he could. He went down until the head popped past his tonsils and rubbed his larynx. He looked over at Idaho, who had his big cock out, stroking it with two hands.
“Wish you could do that with me.”
Fred shrugged. He couldn’t talk with Dumbo’s trunk blocking his windpipe. The long cock was growing a little thicker, probably from the excitement of having a mouth to fuck. Fred came up fast, spitting in his hand and rubbing it on his asshole. Dumbo turned him around and stuck his tongue in the boy’s hole.
When he took a break, he said, “Your Uncle Dumbo’s gonna fuck you from here to next Christmas. You want that?”
Idaho never did this. Idaho was good, but Dumbo was introducing him to a new kind of pleasure. Fred’s eyes rolled back in his head.
“I want it. I want it bad.”
Dumbo took a glob of Vaseline and wiped his cock with it before putting his greasy fingers into Fred’s sopping wet hole. They slipped in like two prairie dogs returning to their burrow.
“Damn, Idaho. You tore this kid up. His ass is wider than a pussy.”
Idaho grinned. “You’ll thank me in a little while.”
Fred wiggled his ass. He wanted Dumbo inside him real bad. Dumbo took two steps away from the little haystack over which Fred was slumped.
“You ready boy?”
Fred nodded. His tiny cock was already dribbling with anticipation. “Fuck me, sir.”
Dumbo was hesitant just like Idaho had been. Fred wanted all of the man inside him. He was thick, but Idaho was thicker. Fred surprised Dumbo when he guided his long cock through the second hole.
Dumbo hesitated. “Keep going?”
Fred had to stifle a sigh. “Fuck me all the way, Uncle.”
The handsome green-eyed drifter rammed his cock all the way inside. He began to take long strokes that tickled. Fred had become so used to having a cock like a tin of beans, that this beer can cock landed like a feather. The tickling caused Fred to spasm. His insides went insane. Until this moment, Fred hadn’t ever experienced anal orgasm like Idaho had done. Dumbo was an artist.
Fred’s eyes turned white. His body bucked and jerked. His innards clamped down on and let go of the invading cock over and over. Fred had felt this on his arm when Idaho had an ass orgasm, so he knew what Dumbo was experiencing when the handsome hobo said, “Holy shit!”
In ecstasy, Fred only managed to say, “Oh, that’s it” over and over. He caught Idaho’s eye. The two had gotten very intimate in the previous months. They could read each other’s minds. Fred jerked his head, inviting Idaho to join in the fun.
Fred pushed Dumbo on his back, riding him like a cowboy, but facing away from him. He leaned back, lifting his legs, giving Idaho a passageway to paradise. The hulking drifter heaved his rock hard monster skyward, letting it fall on Fred’s tiny crotch. Fred cried out. Even tiny balls can hurt big.
Idaho pulled back and inserted the tip, feeling Dumbo’s thrusts against his cock head.
Idaho looked into Fred’s eyes. “Are you sure?”
Fred nodded. “Fuck me, Daddy. I need it all.” Then Fred felt the worst pain since his first sexual experience, which was more rape than sex. But this was different. Fred invited Idaho in. He knew it would hurt, and he knew he would get used to it. With each additional inch from Idaho, the pain worsened. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe it wouldn’t get better. But it did.
* * *
The two old friends bumped balls while they shared the boy’s hole. Out of phase with their thrusts, the rubbing and friction varied, making Idaho shudder. Dumbo moaned from below. Hearing his old flame made Idaho horny. He sped up his thrusts, caressing Fred’s chest. Fred’s eyes went glassy. Idaho worried he might be doing damage.
“Does it hurt?”
Fred shook his head.”Not any more.” Then his eyes glazed over again. Idaho knew not to interrupt the kid in a fugue state.
Idaho grunted. Dumbo grunted louder. The two friends growled and snarled in short bursts. Fred whined and bleated.
The older men’s cocks were intertwined inside the boy, so they had to move together as one. Idaho could feel Dumbo’s cock pulsing in time with him. It was the closest the two old friends had ever been. Idaho kissed Fred, then leaned to the right and kissed Dumbo. He remembered the taste of his mouth and the shape of his long tongue. They stayed that way a long time. Then Idaho straightened up and kissed his young lover who was more like a son than a comrade. Fred twisted Idaho’s nipples. It was a signal that he wanted him to come.
Idaho tapped Dumbo on the leg. The green-eyed traveler understood it was time. They picked up the pace, creating a flesh jackhammer boring its way through Fred’s guts. Fred leaned back, resting his back against Dumbo’s furry chest. He turned and kissed him. Idaho joined in; they were in a three-way lip lock.
It began to rain. Idaho looked up and got an eyeful of Fred’s cum. The boy had tiny balls but they could churn out more cum than Idaho. When Dumbo realized he was being showered with hands-free boy cum, he lost control.
“Fuck, I’m coming!” Dumbo twitched and jerked.
The movements sent Idaho over the edge. “Me too. Me too.”
And in perfect sync, the two old friends unloaded their balls into the young man.
“Shoot inside me Daddy. Fill me up, Uncle Dumbo.”
Idaho went to that place where guys go when they come. The world melted around him until he was the only one there. He held onto Fred’s tiny hand with his big mitts, anchoring him to Earth.
Dumbo was longer than Idaho, so his cum was further up the colon. Idaho coated his friend’s cock head with his shooting cum. What goes up must come down. Idaho felt his own cum flowing back to him. Then he felt Dumbo’s cum coat his cock head and squeeze its way into any possible crevice left in the stuffed sausage that was his lover. When the two friends pulled out, a rivulet of cum gushed out of the boy’s stretched hole. They laughed when they saw how Dumbo’s cock had wrapped around Idaho’s like a two strand braid. It took them a moment to disentangle their cocks. Fred was on his back in the hay, adding a little white gravy to some horse’s meal. His ass was open so wide, Idaho could see the lining of his rectum. It was bright red. The dark flaps of skin on either side of his hole looked like pussy lips.
“You ain’t gonna hear your farts for a month,” said Dumbo.
The three men agreed on an itinerary that would get them to the town of Santa Fe, which had the best hobo jungle west of the Mississippi. They slept in the hay, exhausted from sex.
* * *
At dawn, the train slowly rolled through East Colorado. Fred slept with his hand on Idaho’s heart and his head on Dumbo’s chest. The two men awoke before Fred. They brewed some coffee on Dumbo’s camp stove then made scrambled eggs.
“Fred, the eggs are getting cold.”
The kid was passed out. He’d really taken a beating the day before. He wouldn’t wake up for a few more hours. Idaho had good news.
“Dumbo, I’ve been practicing with Fred. I think I can take you.”
Dumbo wore a puzzled expression. “But—“ he gestured towards Fred’s little penis.
Idaho clenched his fingers and held up a fist. A light went on in his friend’s noggin.
“Idaho, do you really think you can take it?”
“Only one way to find out.”
The little haystack was occupied with the sleeping beauty. Dumbo pulled down an unopened bale. Idaho lay with his back flat, lifting his legs in the air. He handed the tub of Vaseline to Dumbo, who took care of business. The green-eyed hobo spit in his palm and gave his semi-hard cock a few tugs until it was slick. He didn’t know it, but he had the kind of cock that is made for fucking ass, if it were a normal size. The head was smaller than the shaft, which turned his hardon into a missile. The overlong cock was thicker in the middle and tapered as it disappeared into the pubic bush. This meant that once he passed the middle, Idaho’s ass would actually pull him in deeper as the butthole tightened.
Dumbo spit in his hand and wiped it on Idaho’s greased-up ass. He put a couple fingers in, surprised by how loose and elastic his friend was.
“Fred did this?”
“Can he do it for me?”
Idaho said, “I don’t see why not. But first things first. Fuck me.”
Dumbo took a few steps back to position his head at the hole. He went slow until he realized that Idaho wasn’t giving any kind of resistance. He shrugged, then walked forward, watching his lengthy cock disappear inside his friend’s ass. The feeling of rubbing up against the second hole and then popping through was exquisite. He was glad that Idaho had found a young lover, but he still carried a flame for his old jack off buddy. When he was all the way in, he smacked Idaho’s ass.
“Shit, Idaho, you’re so loose it’s like throwing a hot dog down a hallway.”
Idaho smiled. “I kinda overdid it these past few months. You can fuck me hard and it won’t hurt.”
Dumbo had a long journey to pull back and push back in. He started with little dog humps and progressed to locomotive style pounding. His cock head was small, so it didn’t make the popping sound, but the middle of his thick cock did if he fucked fast enough. Idaho pulled his friend close. He kissed him, looking straight into his eyes.
Idaho said, “I love you, old friend.”
Dumbo smiled. “I know.”
While Fred slept, the two men fucked with abandon. Dumbo had remained a virgin until the day before, so he was still learning the ropes. When he had been tangled up in Idaho’s fat cock, he learned a few techniques from his friend. But Dumbo’s dick was different, and he needed to find his moves. When he pulled back further than anticipated, the fat center of his cock passed through the second hole, making a little popping sound.
Idaho said, “Yes! Right there! Oh Jesus right there! Do it again! Again!”
Dumbo looked over but Fred was still sound asleep. “You like that, huh?”
“Yes. Oh God, Oh Jesus. Keep doing it like that.” Idaho’s innards made the popping sound over and over. With each stroke, Idaho’s cock grew harder. It lifted off his leg and reached skyward. Soon, it was straight overhead. It was then that Idaho lost the power of speech and slowly moaned.
Seeing his friend so satisfied was a huge turn on. Dumbo was a lonely guy and Idaho had been his one friend who could commiserate about the burden of carrying a huge cock. He marveled at the tall cock in the daylight. All of their jackoff sessions had been at night. It was magnificent, uncircumcised with blue veins crawling skyward from the base. The head was so big, he wondered how Fred could take it. Dumbo wanted to learn how to get fucked by that fat pole. He licked it while he sent his friend into paroxysms of pleasure. Idaho thrashed on the hay bale, pounding his fists against the sides.
“You’re gonna make me—“ Idaho didn’t finish his sentence.
Dumbo had visited Yellowstone and seen Old Faithful. Idaho’s cock was more awe-inspiring. Dumbo watched in fascination as his friend churned out blast after blast of white cum. It rained down on the two men, leaving them in need of a good hot shower.
The spectacle was an aphrodisiac. So used to using his hands, Dumbo didn’t realize he was so close. Suddenly, his balls pulled up tight.
“Idaho, I’m coming.”
“Come in me. I want you to come inside me.” The husky hobo flexed his pec muscles and brought his arms around his old friend.
And all at once the walls of the boxcar fell away and Dumbo was flying straight to the clouds. When it was over, he landed hard back in his body. Even Idaho noticed.
“Hey, where did you go?”
Dumbo didn’t answer. He kissed his friend’s nipples, cheek, mouth. Between them was a log of flesh still throbbing from earlier. The head touched Idaho’s chin. Dumbo put his mouth over the tip, licking it.
“Stop, you’ll get me hard again.”
Fred stood with his hands on his hips, smiling broadly. “I hope you do. It’s my turn.”
* * *
Fred gave lessons to his lover’s ex-lover. He wasn’t mad or jealous. He had never been happier when they were both inside him. To make sure it happened every night, he needed to give Dumbo a reason to stay. Once Dumbo tried Idaho’s cock, the three would become one. Dumbo would never leave. Fred loved getting fucked by Idaho’s enormous cock and Dumbo would too.
The first lesson didn’t go well. Dumbo cried “Uncle” at three fingers. Fred didn’t think it was a bad for his first day, but Dumbo moped around the boxcar all the way down the Western Rockies.
“Hey, don’t be sad. You did really well.”
Dumbo said, “You’re just saying that.”
Fred rubbed the handsome hobo’s shoulders. “Relax. Relax. Relax. That’s the key.”
Dumbo said, “I wish there were a magic pill that would make me relax.”
Fred laughed. “You want a Quaalude next time? That will help.Quaaludes are prescribed for anxiety and sleep, but they make a fantastic muscle relaxer, too.”
The next night after supper, Fred gave Dumbo a Quaalude. Fred knew the hobo was suspicious of all medicines, but he had said he wanted a “magic pill.” Dumbo washed it down with canteen water.
Fifteen minutes went by. Dumbo said, “I don’t feel anything.”
Fred smiled. “Give it a chance.”
Another ten minutes went by. Dumbo’s eyes widened. “I feel something.”
Fred said, “You’re gonna feel a lot more in a few minutes.”
Soon, numbness and euphoria clouded Dumbo’s mind.
Fred needed to break Dumbo, get him to open up. Dumbo grinned at the boy. “Let’s give this a go, kid.”
Fred greased up his fingers and smeared a thick coat of Vaseline on Dumbo’s butt hole. He decided to start with two fingers, then worked his way up to three.
“How’s that feeling?”
Dumbo exhaled loudly. “It doesn’t hurt as much. Go for four.”
Fred obliged. He slid in and out of the greasy hole as deep as his open thumb would allow. Then he folded the thumb and punched his way in.
“Owww! Shit!” Dumbo was on the verge of tears.
Fred said, “Wait 30 seconds, I promise it will go away.”
Dumbo pounded the hay bale. “Oh fuck it hurts! It hurts. Oh, it doesn’t hurt anymore.”
Fred pressed forward, causing Dumbo’s big dick to leak a thin stream of pre-cum. Then Fred retreated, letting his fist get caught in the tight hole, pulling on it, but not exiting.
“Does that hurt, sir?”
Dumbo chuckled. “It doesn’t. This pill is a fucking miracle!”
Fred let his instincts and the contours of Dumbo’s insides dictate his movements. The handsome hobo gave a sigh of pleasure. That was Fred’s cue to move into the next phase. He bunched up his fingers and pushed through to the colon. It made a satisfying pop. Dumbo’s thighs shook.
“Damn! I never knew how good it would feel.”
Fred nodded. “Wait until you let Idaho fuck you.”
The young hobo pushed more and more of his arm into the man, stretching the tight hole like a rubber band. Dumbo relaxed and let Fred punch his guts for an hour. His cock finally got hard, pressed tightly to his belly and chin. He stroked himself. Fred used his free hand to help out. There was so much dick to stroke, between them they couldn’t cover it all. Dumbo howled like a coyote. His shallow breath came in short bursts. His face was relaxed. He was in the zone.
“Fred, I’m gonna come.”
“Wait.” The young man changed angles so he could take Dumbo’s cock in his mouth. He let the head slide past his tonsils.
Fred felt the hot burst of cum shoot down his throat. Holding his breath, he forced the spurting cock deep in his throat. He didn’t need to swallow. The cum was already on its way to his stomach. Dumbo came for almost a minute. When the last trickle was released, Fred pulled his head back and let the spent cock hit his face.
Idaho whistled. “Goddamn, that was hot. I’d join you in a second round, but we gotta hop off. We’re just outside Santa Fe.”
* * *
The hobo jungle in Santa Fe was a country club compared to Chicago or St. Louis. Just outside of town, the encampment was the office and changing room of a defunct coal mine. The office was massive, a crazy quilt of free crash pads. There was hot and cold running water and open showers in the changing room. After claiming a campsite, the friends made a beeline for the showers to wash three days of sex and diesel dust off their bodies.
The trio made quite the picture in the showers. Without giving it much thought, they chose three consecutive shower heads, with Fred in the middle. A toothless bum did his best to whistle.
“Jesus Christ on a cross. Would you look at that?”
The room of men swiveled their heads to look at the three.
The toothless one continued. “It’s like a rabbit caught between two horses!”
The whole shower room erupted in laughter except for the three friends. Fred stood defiantly and glared. Idaho put a protective arm around him. It was hard to understand, but Idaho was easily shamed about his own size. He was partly holding on to Fred to calm his own nerves. Dumbo didn’t give a shit. When the room quieted down, he laughed back at the crowd.
“We got more dick here between the three of us than all of y’all combined. And that’s counting the little one!”
It was a tense moment, but then the other men laughed and nodded. One of them said, “You got a point there.”
Another hobo chimed in. “A really, really big point.” More laughter.
Idaho was concerned for Fred. It hurts to be humiliated for your size, but the little guys were less able to laugh it off. He thought he saw tears form in the corners of his baby-faced boyfriend’s eyes but it might have just been the shower water.
He whispered. “Don’t let them get to you, Fred. You have a beautiful, fuckable body. Be proud of who you are.”
The toothless old man who started the confrontation came over and introduced himself. “Joe Hilliard. Welcome to Camp Santa Fe.” His hand was extended towards Fred. The boy shook the old man’s hand. Idaho noticed the old man was hung small like Fred. Maybe smaller.
Joe said, “I got a bottomless mouth and no teeth. You two come find me if you need a change from this handsome little man.”
Fred cleared his throat. “You gotta ask me for permission. These are my guys and I don’t loan them out to just anyone.”
Idaho was stunned. Fred was small, but he had a dominant personality. He was tempted by the offer from the man with no teeth. If anybody could suck his cock, it would be this old fart. He could just close his eyes. If Fred allowed it.
“Fred, I’ve never gotten a blow job. You know this might be my only chance.”
Fred nodded. “Joe, you think you can handle Idaho here?”
The old man held his chin between thumb and forefinger. “I dunno. I was thinking about this guy,” gesturing towards Dumbo. He shook his head and said, “Idaho is awful thick.”
Idaho felt his heart sink. God had blessed him so hard it turned into a curse.
Joe caught Idaho’s eye. “Still, I can always try.”
After dressing, Idaho went to Joe’s tent. The space was kept very tidy. The old man had a comfortable clean mattress. Idaho lay down on it and sighed. Hay is soft but not like an Airflex mattress.
Joe stretched his jaw with his hands. With no teeth to hold onto, he just put one fist in his mouth and tried to get in a few fingers more. He pulled his fist and three fingers out of his mouth and held it over the tip of Idaho’s swelling cock. It was bigger, but it might not be soon.
“I’m gonna try. I got no tonsils and no teeth. I don’t gag, neither.”
This was new to Idaho, who had never once gotten this far along with a blow job.
Quickly, the old man put the semi-hard head into his mouth and used gravity to force it past the uvula. If the monster reached full size, Idaho wasn’t sure what would happen. He’d let Joe worry about it. He lay back and let the man ride his cock up and down, until it became lodged in his airway.
Joe couldn’t speak, so he tapped then pounded on Idaho’s thigh. Idaho lifted himself onto his elbows and saw the emergency unfolding. It made his erection fade. Like magic, Joe pulled himself off of the huge cock and sat on his haunches, gasping for air.
Idaho shrugged. “It was worth a try.” He reached for his pants.
“Now hang on.” Joe waggled a finger at him. “Patience pays.”
To his surprise, Idaho watched as the man held a deep breath, then swallowed inch after inch of cock. He got halfway. Idaho could see the outline of his cock pressing against Joe’s esophagus.
“Holy cow. I never imagined—“ Idaho drifted off because the old man was humming. The vibrations were unlike anything Idaho had ever experienced with women or with Fred. “Oh shit. That feels so good.”
Joe’s face was bright red. When his ears turned blue, he pulled off of Idaho’s cock and took several deep breaths.
“Son, you got a huge fucking dick. This may take a while.”
When Idaho had lost a little of the swell, Joe went down again, this time even farther. He bobbed his head rapidly in small movements. Idaho watched in fascination as his huge cock head moved past the Adam’s apple. Once it did, Joe took in a few more inches. Idaho was in disbelief. It seemed impossible from a scientific viewpoint. Maybe Joe was deformed.
Thinking about the blow job in such a clinical manner caused Idaho to soften. Joe wasted no time, burying his face in Idaho’s pubic bush. There, he bobbed up and down for as long as he could take it, then pulled back all the way, letting Idaho’s cock flop onto his thigh.
“Man, you’re amazing.” Idaho realized he had tears in his eyes. He felt a 30-year curse just lifted. “You don’t have to finish.”
Joe frowned. “The fuck I don’t. Hold still.” The old man swallowed Idaho’s entire manhood in a single motion, his nose touching the pubic mound. He pulled all the way out and took a breath, then back down, over and over. Now Idaho knew what he’d been missing.
“Oh shit that feels good. Oh god. Keep doing that.”
And Joe kept doing it. It took ten minutes before Idaho felt the slick drops of clear semen bubbling out the tip. Joe must have tasted it or felt it too.
Joe nodded. He had his own little penis out, jerking it hard and fast. Idaho marveled at the extremes of nature for a split second before succumbing to the first wave of pleasure. Orgasm was imminent. Idaho’s body jerked involuntarily.
Joe was clearly an expert in the male orgasm. Taking a giant breath, he forced the fat cock all the way down his throat until his face pressed hard against Idaho’s crotch. Then he made rapid, tiny bobbing motions.
Idaho erupted. He pumped ounce after ounce of cum down the old guy’s throat. Joe pulled back slowly, squeezing Idaho’s cock past the larynx. Then he pulled it out, still spraying cum everywhere. Joe pointed it at his face and let Idaho do his clown makeup. He was a soggy, toothless mess. He stuck out his tongue and caught droplets of Idaho’s semen like snowflakes.
Idaho thanked Joe and returned to the camp. He didn’t need a shower. He hadn’t broken a sweat and the old man had graciously cleaned his pecker.
When Idaho got back to the tent, Dumbo was cumming deep inside Fred. He shouted as the youngster whined and moaned.
“Goddammit yes! Yes!” Dumbo collapsed on the boy’s back, out of breath.
Fred saw Idaho and smiled. “How did he do?”
Idaho said, “I’m going to give you so much candy and amphetamine that your teeth fall out. Is that cool?”
* * *
At dinner around the campfire, Joe was quiet. When someone asked him a question, he spoke in a hoarse whisper. Idaho knew he was responsible. Before he could worry, Joe looked at him and winked. It was no problem.
Back at the tent, the three made up a bed out of open sleeping bags. It was warm out, so they didn’t need a blanket.
Dumbo stripped naked. “I can’t deal with pajamas.”
Fred and Idaho followed suit.
Fred put Dumbo’s soft cock in his mouth and worked on it. Idaho greased up Fred, preparing to be the meat in the man sandwich. But Dumbo surprised him.
“Why don’t you lay behind me? I’m ready to let you fuck me.”
Idaho hadn’t prepared mentally to be the man on top. But he watched as Fred put Dumbo’s slippery cock into his ass and took the whole length inside in one smooth motion. The only hole left was Dumbo’s.
“Are you sure man? I don’t want to hurt you.”
Dumbo said, “You got to hurt me to fuck me. It won’t last.”
Fred lay on his side. He rode Dumbo like a ride at Disneyland.
Dumbo didn’t move. He let Fred do all the work.
Idaho watched his old friend and his new friend fucking. It aroused him. His limp cock expanded and lengthened until he was at full erection. Dumbo’s asshole was already lubricated. He and Fred had planned this, no doubt.
Idaho took a finger full of Vaseline and coated his cock until it shone like a chrome bumper. Carefully, he put the first third of his cock head inside his well-hung friend.
Dumbo seemed focused on his intense fuck with Fred. He didn’t protest. To Idaho’s amazement, Dumbo didn’t resist when he pushed it halfway in. There was some definite panic when it reached the Corona. Idaho pushed quickly and his cock popped inside.
“Fuck that feels better than a fist for sure.” Dumbo was high. He had already taken a Quaalude, and was now taking sniffs of modeling glue to distract his brain. “Don’t hold back, Idaho, fuck me like you mean it.”
Idaho held his green-eyed friend by the hip to allow him to push in farther. It was moving as smooth as a Pullman car. He didn’t meet much resistance when he popped past the second hole. After that, it was a freeway to the finish line. Idaho’s hips bumped into Dumbo’s butt.
Dumbo howled with joy. “I did it! We did it!”
Idaho said, “It’s just started. Let’s get to the finish line.” The hulking hobo withdrew all but the tip and rammed it home.
“Oh fuck! Fuck! Keep doing it just like that. Just like that.” Dumbo took another sniff of glue. His head drooped and he relaxed even further. Idaho knew he could pound his old friend with abandon, so he did.
When Dumbo came out of his glue fog, he stared into Idaho’s eyes. “This is all I’ve ever wanted.” Neither man noticed that Fred had vanished.
Idaho was focused on the task at hand. He grunted in response. Dumbo was sexy as fuck, but he talked too much.
“Did you stop loving me when you left?”
“Shh! Quiet time.” Idaho put a finger across Dumbo’s ruby red lips.
Dumbo shut up. Idaho kept his focus. He plumbed the depths of his old friend with the goal of leaving his seed inside him.
Fred must have given Dumbo some tips. The green-eyed hobo reached up and twisted Idaho’s nipples. Now it was Idaho whose head was lolling back. This only encouraged Dumbo. He twisted harder and reached up to suck his nipples.
Dumbo’s pretty lips sucking his nipples kept Idaho in a deep reverie. His head flooded with memories of his old friend, their shared secret, the companionship, and those many nights jerking each other off.
Idaho looked into Dumbo’s eyes. “I never stopped loving you, man.”
Apparently these were magic words, because Dumbo’s cock, limp since Fred left, came to life under Idaho’s belly. He watched in fascination as it went from very long to impossibly long. Dumbo didn’t really show until he was hard. When they first met, Dumbo told Idaho he got the nickname when he was completely soft. He said, “If they’d seen me hard, I would be called Babar now.”
The reference was lost on Idaho at the time, but he later went to the public library in Joplin. He took a sink bath, then searched until he found the book in the kid’s section. Babar wasn’t a baby; he was fully grown. An Elephant King.
Idaho couldn’t take his eyes off his friend’s huge cock. Without a second thought, he scooped up Dumbo’s trunk and filled his mouth.
“Oh shit, Idaho, that’s too much. Stop. Don’t. Stop.”
Idaho smiled. “Okay, I won’t stop.” He sucked until he tasted the first salty drops that heralded an imminent ejaculation. Then he let the cock drop. He knew his friend wouldn’t feel too great if Idaho had to fuck him for hours after he came.
He had brought Dumbo to the edge of a precipice, then pulled him back. A rivulet of clear sticky fluid dribbled from the throbbing cock. Teasing his friend, Idaho licked the precum off the head, making him almost come.
Dumbo shivered and shook his head. He put his hands firmly on Idaho’s tits and pinched them hard a dozen times in rapid succession. Idaho felt the end of his cock leaking a little. It mixed with the Vaseline to form the perfect frictionless lube. The only places where Idaho’s cock met with resistance was at the second hole, and pulling out completely. So he adjusted his strokes to maximize contact with the two tight holes. He tried not to slip out all the way, but once in a while he did. Some air got trapped each time, building up inside. With his cock deep in his friend, he felt the air rush past and escape. A loud wet fart punctuated the moment. Idaho was a little ashamed how much it turned him on. He kept pushing air and letting it escape. The vibrations sent shivers down his spine. The sound was disgusting and funny in equal measure. Idaho got really hard, closing the gap as his flesh swelled to its maximum girth. Now the air couldn’t escape.
Dumbo said, “Pull out buddy, I gotta fart again.”
Idaho retreated, leaving a gaping hole where Dumbo’s pink pucker had once been. There was no sound this time, just a breeze from within. As soon as the air escaped, Idaho shoved his cock back in. The slippery walls of his friend’s guts were giving a little resistance again. Idaho pounded all the way in and stayed there, taking small strokes and bumping over and over again into the last wall. Then something new happened. With his hardest stroke, he felt his cock push upwards at the end. Idaho didn’t know much anatomy, so he didn’t realize he was pushing into the descending colon.
Dumbo’s teeth chattered. He shivered. His eyes rolled back in his head. Idaho saw it and was worried.
“Did I hurt you?”
“Nah, man. Keep doing it. Just like that.”
The junction between colons was tight enough to tickle Idaho’s humongous cock head. He kept going there over and over, probing into new territory. Not even Fred had gone there with his short arms. A trail of saliva ran down Dumbo’s cheek. It was obvious he was in ecstasy. He leaned forward and clamped his mouth on Idaho’s left tit, right over his heart. He felt the handsome hulk’s heart beating against his cheek. Like a newborn, he nursed. He nibbled and bit, sucked and licked.
Idaho knew he was close when Dumbo found his right nipple and pinched it, then twisted it. He grunted like a farm animal.
“Are you ready?”
Dumbo nodded. Idaho pulled his friend’s cock head to his mouth and swallowed as much as he could,which wasn’t much. It was enough. Dumbo twisted and writhed with imminent orgasm. He churned out a salty load of the clear stuff, which Idaho swallowed like it was whisky. Idaho thought about his dirty love of farts. He loved how his cock made them like an air pump. Just then, Dumbo bit down hard on his tit. That was the final straw.
Their mouths full with each other, they said nothing. There was no warning, no timing. With a powerful thrust, Idaho tipped.
At the same time, Dumbo felt his friend’s swirling tongue on his dick. It was too much.
They came together. Idaho flooded Dumbo’s colon with his baby gravy. Dumbo returned the favor in Idaho’s mouth. Idaho savored his friend’s cum before swallowing it all.
Spent, the two collapsed into each other’s arms. Idaho suddenly remembered Fred. He must have left when Idaho and his old buddy got too wrapped up in each other. He hoped Fred wasn’t mad.
* * *
Dumbo succumbed to the Quaaludes and drifted off to a blissful sleep. Idaho shimmied into his dungarees and walked the camp looking for his little buddy. He spied Joe, who gave a toothless grin and waved him over.
“Hey Idaho. Ready for round two?”
Idaho shook his head politely. “I’m looking for Fred. Have you seen him?”
Joe said, “Yeah. He’s catching a boxcar to Los Angeles. Leaves in about five minutes.”
Idaho ran towards the railyards a few blocks away. If he ran fast enough, he might catch Fred. Tears streamed down his face. He ran and ran. He heard the train whistle blow once. That was good. It meant they were stopping. It would be at least another five minutes until the train gave two long blasts and departed.
“Hey which track goes to Los Angeles?” Idaho prayed this hobo was a local. His prayers were answered.
The man pointed. “Six tracks from this one.”
“Thank you. Thank you.” Idaho kissed the man on his forehead and ran. He saw Fred in a boxcar with another man. Breathless, he reached the car.
The curly headed cherub leaned out of the car. Behind him, a short young hobo lay bare bottom, waiting for Fred to finish his business and get back to theirs. His ass was enormous.
“Idaho. Why are you here?”
“You’re gonna fucking leave me?”
Fred nodded. I got ambitions, Idaho. Besides, my work with you is done. Time for me to go back to the city of angels.”
“You and Dumbo split because you couldn’t satisfy each other. I showed you how. You love each other.”
“But I love you, Fred!”
Fred chuckled. “Go back to your man. I taught you how to love and how to fuck. I’ve got another soul to work on now.” He jerked his head towards the man in back.
Idaho realized Fred was naked. His eyes grazed his crotch, looking for his tiny penis. It wasn’t there. A massive cock the girth of Idaho’s hung between Fred’s short legs, halfway to the floor.”
“Who are you?”
“I’m whoever you need me to be.”
The train gave two long blasts. The boxcar lurched forward slowly. Idaho ran beside the car.
“Fred, come back! We can make it work, the three of us.”
“No, Idaho. You and Dumbo are in love. You know it’s love because you loved me. Now let me get started on Dougie back here. He’s ashamed of his big butt; I am gonna make him love it.”
The train was building momentum. Idaho had to jog to keep up.
“But I love you!”
Fred smiled. “I know. Now go back to Dumbo and love again.”
That was the last thing Idaho heard from the young man who was the love of his life. Except he wasn’t the love of his life. Fred was a magical creature, not human. Idaho knew in his heart that Dumbo was the true love of his life. Nobody understood the miseries of a big dick like Dumbo did. And no human besides Dumbo could take his monster. Fred’s carriage disappeared from view. Six tracks and five blocks gave him time to cry, curse, and ultimately accept that Fred was never his.
When Idaho walked into the tent, Dumbo was sound asleep. Idaho lay down beside him, spooning. Dumbo woke up. “Hey man. Where’s Fred?”
Idaho shook his head and kissed his man on the lips. “From now on I’m calling you Babar. King Babar if they ask.”
The two old friends embraced, overwhelmed by the love that surrounded them.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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
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.
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.
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.
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 Babyand a serious story about a Native American hermaphrodite. There are dozens more, but those three stand out.
From PS Publishing: We found TheOrchardman (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.