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!
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
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
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.
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.
Jeffrey clutched his ticket in sweaty palms. He didn’t like flying. Whenever he had a choice, he took a train, or a bus. This was a transcontinental flight on a DC-10 from Los Angeles to New York. He could choose between three days of solid discomfort or six hours of terror…each way. But the meeting was tomorrow, so he really had no choice.
Jeffrey ducked into the restroom for a quick pee before the boarding began. He groaned when he saw the urinal, a single trough. He hated other men looking at his depressingly tiny penis. He scanned the stalls to see if a private toilet was available; all full. His short pause caused a gentleman to bump into him.
“Ey, are you going or not”?
Jeffrey turned to face his antagonist, and almost wet himself on the spot. It was Ashe D’Estende, the straight porn star. The star saw the flash of recognition in Jeffrey’s eyes and grinned.
Jeffrey turned red. He stepped forward to the trough and removed his tiny wiener. Ashe appeared beside him. He saw the tiny manhood and whistled.
“That sucks, man.”
Jeffrey couldn’t believe this blockhead. He also couldn’t stop staring as the oaf peeled his skin tight polyester pants from his thighs in order to extract his legendary dong. It flopped like a dead snake out of his trousers. It was so long, the head crash landed in the river of urine below. Ashe cursed and lifted the monster out of the trough.
“That sucks, man.”
Ashe chuckled as the stream of urine trickling from his urethra became a rushing rapids. Jeffrey was so piss shy, he started to put it away.
“Where you going? Let’s cross swords.”
Ashe had an easy comfort with his body; it was contagious. Jeff relaxed and let the stream of urine flow from his little penis. Ashe swatted his stream of urine so it collided with Jeffrey’s. Jeffrey swatted back, causing droplets to splatter the wall above the trough.
“Nice! You win.”
“I win? That’s a first.”
Jeffrey’s self-loathing colored his speech.
The loudspeaker announced the boarding of flight 1480 from Los Angeles to New York.
Both men put away their respective manhoods and left the restroom.
Jeffrey was not a virgin, but he had a hard time connecting with men. His small penis shame was a constant drum in his ears while he talked to guys. They sensed his fear and avoided him. It landed him on an analyst’s couch for years.
Jeffrey gained most of his sexual gratification in erotic cinemas like the Pussycat on Western Avenue. He would sit on an empty row and masturbate to adult movies. It was not sex, but it was easier than dealing with potential humiliation in the bedroom.
Jeffrey’s surrogate sex life was the reason he recognized Ashe D’Estende. He was a French Canadian who came to Los Angeles seeking stardom, and his dick made him famous. It was far and away the biggest hard cock Jeffrey had ever seen. Soft, it was enormous. Rumors surrounding his legendary member were whispered in soft tones at the theaters. Several stars refused to work with him because he preferred anal. The women didn’t have the guts to take the legend.
Thinking about Ashe took his mind off the upcoming flight. The gate agent took his ticket and sent him down the long covered walkway to the jumbo jet. Jeffrey liked the covered walkway. The last time he had flown, he was forced to walk on a noisy tarmac as planes roared down the runway nearby. This quiet, climate-controlled hallway was a great improvement. When he stepped into the plane, he was astonished by its size. How could such a massive object ever get airborne? He had requested an aisle seat, hoping it would keep him from seeing the plane leave the ground. When he found his seat, it was occupied. By Ashe.
“Uh, I think this is my seat.”
Ashe grinned. He took his ticket stub out and compared.
“Nope. Lucky, you got the window.”
“Damn. Do you want to switch”?
Ashe undid the seatbelt and adjusted his huge soft cock so he wouldn’t sit on it when sliding across. It snaked its way down his trouser leg towards his knee. While scooting, Ashe held the monstrosity with both hands to keep it from slipping under his thigh.
Jeffrey watched in envy and fascination. His mouth hung open. He felt faint. Seeing Ashe pissing was not even as interesting as watching him struggle with simple movement.
“Fucking huge, right”? Ashe grabbed a portion of his long meat and shook it for Jeffrey’s benefit.
“Y-yes, sir.” Jeffrey didn’t know why he said that. Ashe made him want to submit.
Ashe’s eyes sparkled. “Sir? Quel surprise.” The Québécois revealed his origins with his accent.
Jeffrey sat beside him. He leaned forward to put his knapsack under the seat, and caught Ashe staring at his ass.
Ashe sucked air through his teeth. “Bel cul, mon frere.”
A rush of erotic pleasure surged through him. The biggest cock in porn was complimenting his ass.
The stewardess was demonstrating the seatbelt and the flotation device. Jeffrey looked at the placard studiously, prepared for the inevitable crash landing over water. Ashe watched as thin beads of sweat rolled down Jeffrey’s face and splashed on the card.
“Eh, mon ami, are you frightened”?
“I will help you. You must be distracted.”
As the plane backed out of the gate, Ashe put his big meaty hand down the back of Jeffrey’s pants and fingered his asshole. He leaned in and whispered, “Once we are in the sky, I will take you to heaven.”
The plane gathered speed on the runway. Jeffrey cried out as Ashe put one, then two fingers in his ass. The plane lifted off; Ashe slipped a third huge finger into Jeffrey’s hole.
Ashe stretched and fingered him until the no smoking sign turned off. By the time the stewardess walked past, Ashe was sniffing his fingers and smiling at his astonished seat mate.
“No smoking sign is off. Meet me in the back.” He pulled a joint out of his shirt pocket and winked. He climbed over Jeffrey, making sure to rub his crotch in the man’s face.
Jeffrey couldn’t process everything that was happening to him. He was airborne flying over some shitty suburb and the hottest man in porn was waiting to get stoned with him. And he was too turned on to be scared.
Jeffrey undid his buckle and walked through the smoke cloud at the back of the plane until he reached the restrooms. All the stewardesses were busy preparing food at the front of the plane. Ashe stood just inside a restroom, beckoning him. He stepped in and Ashe locked them in.
Ashe fired up the joint and passed it to Jeffrey.
Jeffrey coughed and laughed as they finished the joint together. Ashe flushed the toilet to change the air in the tiny room. He smiled at Jeffrey.
“You have a beautiful tiny penis.”
“No, no mon ami, it is a compliment.”
“In what world is that a compliment”?
“I like to fuck handsome men but only if they have itty bitty penises.”
“I would have thought you preferred big guys, like the ones you work with.”
“I am not a narcissist. My huge cock is beautiful, eh, but it needs not see its reflection, yes”?
His French Canadian accent was unattractive but sexy nonetheless.
“I don’t understand.”
“Let me show you.” Ashe planted his lips on Jeffrey’s and filled his mouth with thick tongue. The passion, fueled by weed and high altitude, drove the men wild. Jeffrey tore at the pearl snaps of Ashe’s cowboy shirt. Ashe removed the young man’s trousers in one swift motion. He unzipped and extracted his rapidly growing member from his double-knit trousers. He applied airline lotion liberally to his cock and Jeffrey’s asshole. The three fingers found their way in. Ashe had been fucking ass on camera for five years. He was an expert. Jeffrey moaned as his rectum loosened under the digital assault. He had never been with a masculine man. His dates were usually very feminine, and always disappointed in Jeffrey’s little unit. Ashe used his free hand to wiggle Jeffrey’s scrotum and penis like it was a pussy. He felt like a woman; it was a huge relief. He didn’t want to be a man with Ashe; he wanted to be a lady under his command. He knew he was about to be anally massacred, but he welcomed it.
The tiny restroom could not accommodate Ashe’s manhood. He had to point it skyward to allow it to grow to its full length. Jeffrey felt the head slither up his back as it grew to its full length. He gasped when Ashe lifted him aloft as if he were a piece of carry on luggage.
The lotion-slick head found its way easily into the finger-stretched hole. Ashe was tapered; his cock grew thicker towards the base. Jeffrey could handle the first few inches, but the last few were going to be murder. Ashe knew his body well, having stretched hundreds of asses on film. He nibbled on Jeffrey’s earlobe to distract him from the blinding pain to come.
Jeffrey was confused. Ashe is supposedly straight, yet he wanted to fuck Jeffrey because he has a teeny weenie peenie. He wanted to spend more time analyzing the strange psychology, but his ass was screaming. Ashe was halfway in, and he was already at the end of the rectum. But then Ashe did something magic. He turned a corner and continued up Jeffrey’s poop chute. It was blissful and intensely painful in equal measure. He whimpered.
“Sh-shh-shhh. Mon ami, you will soon feel only pleasure.” Ashe caressed Jeffrey’s small genitals. He rubbed the little head until clear juice dribbled from the tip. Ashe licked the nectar from his fingers. “Ohh, man, you taste sweeter than pussy.”
Jeffrey could not hear the compliment. His anus was a flood of searing hot pain. Ashe was now two-thirds of the way into Jeffrey. His massive cock was moving deeper into the sigmoid colon.
Ashe was big around as a summer sausage near the tip, but he was thick as a wine bottle at the base. As he continued to lower Jeffrey onto his meat, the young man’s rectum stretched beyond the limits of his imagination. Ashe was careful to lift Jeffrey up at intervals, to give his tight hole a chance to relax and recover. Then he would lower him further than before. All the while, Ashe peppered him with kisses and whispered encouragement in his ear.
“Yes, you are doing it. You feel so good on my cock. You are a beautiful man.”
Jeffrey winced and groaned. “You’re going to split me in two.”
“Relax, I am an expert. There will be no blood. Only deep satisfaction.”
Jeffrey grew faint as the full realization of his conquest washed over him. Ashe had fully made a woman out of him. The gentle stroking on his genitals felt like he had grown a pussy and Ashe was fingering him. Three-fourths of the way in, Ashe was forcing juice from Jeffrey’s prostate.
The porn star cupped his meaty paw and caught the clear ejaculate. He sampled it, then held it to Jeffrey’s mouth. He slurped his own pre-cum. It was delicious.
Ashe used the momentary distraction as a cover for his final thrust. He was balls deep in his seat mate.
Jeffrey’s feet were back on the ground. He stood yoked ass-to-hip with the huge dick wedged fully inside his anal canal. He was invaded, conquered by this heterosexual porn star. He was a woman, with a drippy clit.
“Are you ready for it”?
Jeffrey nodded, unsure what ‘it’ might be.
Ashe pulled back as far as he could and rammed his meat hard into Jeffrey’s ass. He quickly withdrew as far as the tiny cabin allowed, and pounded again, faster. In seconds, he was fucking like a jackrabbit.
“Oh fuck! Oh god!”
Ashe smiled, “It’s good, n’est-ce pas”?
“Oh Jesus. Oh Lord. It’s…unhhh.” Jeffrey lost his faculties of speech. He could only respond in moans, groans and squeals of pleasure.
Ashe rutted his prey, dominating him, emptying and filling him with his huge porn star dick. He loved nothing more than making a woman out of a man. He wanted this man ever since he saw his small perfect cock at the urinal. He was straight on camera, but men with little dicks were his weakness.
Despite the confines of the cramped cabin, Ashe lifted Jeffrey and rotated him, so his ass was on the counter, facing his anal invader. Jeffrey wrapped his legs around his intruder’s waist. Ashe put Jeffrey’s little cock in his mouth. He sucked and swallowed the pussy juice that oozed out with each violent thrust.
Jeffrey discovered Ashe’s short circuit; he twisted his nipples.
“No, you will make me cum.”
Jeffrey let his hands explore the round globes that formed Ashe’s dimpled buttocks. They were lightly furry. Each thrust caused them to tighten. He put a finger between them, feeling the squeeze. He let the finger wander down to the puckered hole.
Ashe grabbed his wrist.
“The last thing that went in there was cut off. I am the man, you are my woman.”
Jeffrey nodded. Ashe kissed him to ease the tension. “You may rub my butt, that feels good.”
Jeffrey concentrated on Ashe’s butt cheeks and powerful hamstrings whose strength drove his massive member so hard into him. The unbearable pain had completely vanished. Each violent thrust of Ashe’s elephantine dick brought only intense orgasmic trembling. Jeffrey’s legs were shaking involuntarily. Ashe kissed his inner thighs and held his knees to calm him. Jeffrey saw stars. Pleasure washed over him in wave after wave. He had never felt this before. What was it?
“I made your ass have orgasms, eh”? Ashe wore a triumphant smile. “I can make it happen again and again.”
He was right. Over the next five minutes, Jeffrey was reduced to a trembling heap of flesh. He melted into a warm buttery sea of anal orgasms. Ashe didn’t stop. He lived to see that look of unrestrained ecstasy on his sex partner’s face. Women were so easy. Only a few men could have multiple anal orgasms; Ashe had found one. He pounded and pounded until Jeffrey slipped into a trance. He lost control of his bladder, and piss poured out. Luckily, it ran into the sink.
“I fucked the piss out of you.”
Jeffrey’s head lolled. He looked like a junkie after a fix. The giant member in his anus was going to make him faint. The room turned red, and he blacked out. When he came to, Ashe was still fucking him deep and hard. He never wanted anything like he wanted this man’s dick in him, but it was going to make him pass out again. In a gesture of self-preservation, he pinched Ashe’s nipples.
“Are you ready for my cum, woman”?
Jeffrey nodded, focusing intensely on the porn star’s leathery nipples.
“I am ready for yours, too.” Ashe covered Jeffrey’s tiny cock with his mouth and licked it like a clitoris. Jeffrey felt sperm building in his balls. The closer he got to cumming, the harder he twisted Ashe’s nipples.
“Oh, fuck! You are making me cum! Ow!” Ashe bucked and thrusted, grinding his hips into Jeffrey’s tight butt.
Ashe was first. Deep in the sigmoid colon, he let fly his first little spurt. Jeffrey felt it, and it sent him over the edge. He ejaculated his first squirt into the porn star’s mouth. Ashe’s second spurt was a flood. It felt like a sperm enema deep inside Jeffrey’s bowels. Jeffrey, like Ashe, was a strong second shot. He was small, but he carried a huge load of cum. He squirted so much so hard, sperm came out of Ashe’s nose.
Ashe pulled back in astonishment just in time to catch a big wad of sperm in his eye. He opened his mouth and caught the successive squirts as best he could. Sperm got on his shirt, pants, and in his hair. Jeffrey was a lawn sprinkler.
Buried to the balls, Ashe kept shooting load after load up the small-dicked man’s colon and anus. His legs buckled. He was half blinded by Jeffrey’s sperm. He looked like a glazed donut. Jeffrey stopped twisting his nipples. He leaned in and licked his own sperm off of Ashe’s face.
Ashe grew soft. Peristalsis, so violently repressed by the gigantic anal assault, returned with a vengeance. Jeffrey ejected the porn star’s huge flaccid member, releasing a torrent of baby batter in its wake. Ashe’s gargantuan flaccid cock smacked hard onto the toilet lid on its way down. The rivulet of sperm puddled in Ashe’s hand. He offered it to Jeffrey, who obediently lapped up the potent dick juice.
The two men breathed hard, looking into one another’s eyes. Ashe took command, kissing Jeffrey as he lifted him off the counter. They cleaned one another with rough brown paper towels and warm airplane water.
“Wait a couple minutes.”
Ashe opened the door, adjusted his crotch for maximum exposure, and walked past two stewardesses, winking. They both stared at his massive crotch; they didn’t notice Jeffrey locking the bathroom behind him.
A few minutes later, Jeffrey limped back to his seat. Ashe gave him that winning smile and patted the spot beside him.
“Did I cure your fear of flying, mon ami”?
“That’s putting it lightly.”
He grimaced as he sat next to the best fuck of his life. Ashe offered him a cigarette.
“You will not walk normal for a few days. But it will feel good. You will remember me with every step.”