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.
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.”
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
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
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.”