Smashwords

Standing in the door frame was Coach Ramirez.

“Coach…” Jeramie croaked, feeling very apprehensive all of a sudden. “Wh… what are you doing here?”

“Can’t a coach stop by to check up on one of his students?” Coach Ramirez wore a cheeky smirk as he pushed his way in. “I knew your dad wasn’t at home. His car’s not in the driveway.”

The door slammed shut behind Coach, who strode calmly past Jeramie into the kitchen. “So I thought I’d see if you needed a ride.”

“I can walk,” Jeramie replied, sounding a little less than happy. “And I have my bike.”

“Oh, I see.” Coach stopped, turning around at the dining table to rake his eyes up and down over Jeramie’s half-dressed form. “Then I guess you don’t need anything at all from me, huh?”

Jeramie watched as Coach reached down to pull at the crotch of his pants. A lump formed in the teen detective’s throat. Against his will, his eyes were drawn down to the bulge there. Jeramie could see the outline of Coach’s cock plainly.

Coach’s smile grew bigger. He knew the effect he was having. Reaching further down, he hefted up his balls and gave them a squeeze through the fabric.

Jeramie swallowed. “My dad’s…”

“Gone,” Coach Ramirez finished. “I know.”

There was a lot being left unsaid. A part of Jeramie was annoyed. This was his and Daddy’s private space—the house was where they went to get away from work and school to be together. Sure, Jeramie shared that with Ricky, but the boy next door was an exception. Coach Ramirez had come over uninvited. He had barged in without even waiting to be asked, and that was very rude.

On the other hand, Jeramie’s body was still desperately craving real cock. The doorbell had distracted him momentarily, but now that Coach was standing in the kitchen, he could focus on little else. It didn’t help that Coach was deliberately teasing him. Jeramie could see the whole outline of the older man’s cock underneath the fabric of his jeans. They looked tight enough to tear.

Jeramie knew there was enough cock inside those jeans to keep a boyslut satisfied for days, or even weeks.

“I…” Jeramie realized he’d been about to step toward Coach. Getting a grip on himself, he forced the foot back. “I don’t think now’s such a good…”

Coach waited, still rubbing his crotch invitingly. “Time?” he offered, finishing the sentence.

“Yeah.” Jeramie swallowed the lump in his throat again. “Ricky’s… he should be here soon.”

Coach took one step forward, still holding himself inside of his jeans. “You could just not answer the door,” he offered temptingly. “Play hooky for one day. Pretend you’re sick.”

The idea had already been circling around in the back of Jeramie’s head. Ricky had nudged him into doing that before. According to his best friend, everyone needed a little extra time off once in a while. It had become a tradition for them to fake a cold and spend the day playing video games together.

“Every boy needs a day for himself once in a while,” Coach said, echoing Ricky’s words inside Jeramie’s head. “We could have fun together. Just the two of us.”

Coach was standing in front of Jeramie now. Jeramie could see the fibers in Ramirez’s jeans. They were indeed straining against the pressure of such a huge, thick cock trying to get out.

Smashwords

Smashwords

Todd waited and watched, hands gripping the wheel of the mighty semi truck. His son began to move down the length of his muscled body. Ricky explored every single square inch that his fingers could touch.

At last, his hands curled around Todd’s mule dick. “You’re so big, Daddy,” his son whispered with awe in his voice.

Todd chuckled, the sound laced with glowing pride. “That’s what some might call a two-hander,” he explained. “Now you know why, don’cha?”

“Yes sir,” Ricky answered at once, already jerking his father’s huge man-meat up and down, spreading the sticky fluid that was already coating it. “Why is it so wet, though?”

“Just pre-cum,” Todd lied, holding on to the steering wheel tighter. “It’s supposed to be that way. Just keep strokin’ it.”

Ricky’s hot breath rolled over the thick helmet of Todd’s manhood. Todd could sense it a second before it happened. Ricky touched the tip of his tongue to his Daddy’s piss slit. Todd’s cock reacted without thought. A wave of pre-jizz came oozing out, washing all over Ricky’s tongue and chin.

“Oh, Daddy!” Ricky exclaimed, moaning in excitement.

“That’s Daddy’s special sauce.” Todd risked taking one hand off the wheel, using it to push Ricky’s head in closer to his crotch. “Lick it up, boy. It’s good for sluts like you.”

His son slurped at the cock before him like it was his last meal. Ricky ran his tongue up and down the underside of Todd’s shaft. In moments, Todd was moaning and groaning up a storm. His chest heaved with each exhale. The inside of the cabin felt like a sauna, so much so that Todd was forced to crack a window.

“Goddamn, son!” Todd gasped at one point. “Where’d you learn how to do that?”

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Smashwords

The nearest bathroom was over by the picnic area. That was where the party in the park was held. Ricky left his bike behind on the playground and ran as fast as his legs would carry him.

Ricky was out of breath by the time he got to the restrooms. He stood by the door for a moment, leaning against the frame. The smell coming from inside the restrooms made it harder to breathe.

Nevertheless, after a moment, Ricky raised up. Boldly, he stepped forward through the door frame into the darkened area. This restroom was never very well-lit. It wasn’t in the best condition either. The mirror over by the lavatory was cracked and the walls were covered in graffiti. Most of it was swear words, but some of it was also lewd messages.

Obviously, a lot of stuff went on in this restroom. It seemed like the sort of place Eddie would go. He had indeed come back to the park hoping to find those two guys. When that didn’t pan out, he decided to try here instead.

“Eddie?” Ricky called out.

There was no answer. Eddie might have been afraid he would get in trouble if he responded. He was always worried about that sort of stuff.

Knowing this, Ricky pressed onward, going deeper into the restroom. There wasn’t much more to explore, though. A line of stalls stood across from a urinal trough. None of them were occupied, either. Ricky could guess as much from the fact that each door on the stall hung open.

“Dammit!” he cursed, slamming a fist against the wooden side of one of the stalls.

Ricky had been sure Eddie would be here. He’d been wrong about that. Of course, Eddie might have left the restroom already. He wasn’t sure exactly how long it had been. Eddie was patient, but he could have gotten bored from waiting too long for someone to show up.

None of that eased the throbbing in his hand, though. “Dammit, Eddie!” Ricky grumbled, flexing his hand to try and ease the pain. “Where the fuck are you?”

A set of footsteps approached. Ricky froze, seized by a sudden and unexplainable feeling of panic. His body reacted automatically. Before Ricky could ask himself why, he ducked into one of the nearest stalls, closing the door behind him.

The footsteps continued, coming closer to where he was. They stopped for a moment just before reaching the spot where Ricky was hiding. Ricky couldn’t see who it was, or even what shoes they were wearing.

Then the footsteps started again. It was only a couple of steps, followed by the door to the stall next to his slamming shut. Whoever it was, they closed their door hard enough to make the walls rattle.

Ricky noticed something. The wall separating his stall from the one next to his had a hole cut into it. It was a large hole too, big enough to fit a fist through. Several arrows had been drawn on the area around it. There was writing as well.

Curious, he knelt down to get a closer look. These almost seemed like instructions. As he was just starting to read, there came the audible sound of a zipper being lowered. Ricky looked further down and noticed a pair of dark boots. They were pointed straight at him, as if the person in the other stall were facing his way.

That didn’t make any sense, though. The toilet would be to that person’s left. They wouldn’t be facing Ricky unless—

A shuffling sound cut off Ricky’s train of thought. Looking down again, Ricky saw a pair of jeans, rumpled and stained, land on top of the boots. The man in the other stall had shoved them all the way down his legs. A pair of torn white briefs followed.

Ricky gulped. A cock, thicker than any he’d seen before, slid through the hole in the wall. The thing had to be as big as a mule’s. It was easily one of the biggest Ricky had ever seen in his life—not that he had a lot of experience.

The head was huge. It was leaking too. A thick pearl of prejizz oozed out from the piss slit. Ricky stared, transfixed, as it slowly stretched down toward the floor. The precum didn’t exactly fall so much as stretch, forming a thick, viscous string that wiggled as it reached toward the grimy tiles.

“Suck it.”

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Smashwords

Tonight was special for them both. They could have as much fun together as they wanted. The others were fast asleep. Daddy Lecleaux could breed the talented boycunt presently squeezing his shaft like a vice as many times as he liked.

Feeling his breaths come quicker, Daddy Lecleaux bent forward, nibbling on one soft ear. “That’s it, boy,” he whispered, increasing the tempo of his thrusts slightly as he spoke. “You’re doing so good.”

The young man bit down on his lower lip. “I want… to be good,” he managed to get out as his toes curled. Both of his legs were wrapped securely around Daddy Lecleaux’s waist. “You make me feel… oh, so good, sir!”

The word ‘sir’ sent shivers through Daddy Lecleaux’s body. “I love having such a good boy underneath me,” he whispered. “It feels like your little cunt was meant to take cock.”

His eyes were unfocused, but they managed to zero in on Daddy Lecleaux’s face for a moment. “I hope so,” he gasped, feeling his tummy bulge as the massive cock inside of him drove deep once again. “I want… want to be special. Wanna feel you…”

His face burned red for a moment from embarrassment. “Go on,” Daddy Lecleaux whispered when his conquest hesitated. “You can say it in front of me. I won’t be mad.”

“F…”  The twink hesitated again, but then blurted his words out. “Fuck me, sir! My boypussy needs more cock! It needs to be bred by you!”

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Smashwords

Coach studied Jeramie for a moment. Slowly, he bent over slightly so as to look Jeramie in the eye.

“Listen,” he said in a gentle voice, placing a big hand down on Jeramie’s slender shoulder. “What goes on between Shaffeur and I… well, it’s not your fault, and it’s not your problem.”

Jeramie raised his head. “Really?” he asked, feeling uncertain. “Because…”

“Because nothing.” Coach didn’t give Jeramie the chance to recover. “He and I have some things to work out. Maybe I should have been clearer to him. About… a lot of things. But you didn’t make things bad between us. That’s on me.”

Jeramie couldn’t help himself. Coach was naked. He knew Coach’s smell drove him wild and made his cock spring to life and bounce in his pants. Spreading his arms wide, Jeramie reached out and gave Coach a big hug. The two boxes of underwear—his father’s birthday present––that he had been carrying around with him fell to the floor, forgotten.

Immediately, Jeramie felt himself drowning in Coach’s sweat and scent. The changing room tilted. Before he knew it, Jeramie was on his knees. Coach Ramirez’s cock was right in front of him. The thick tube of man meat was starting to fill out. A thick runny line of precum was already drooling down out of the piss slit, making a stain there on the carpet.

Jeramie couldn’t resist anymore. He launched forward like a young man starved and inhaled Coach’s big cock down his throat. The precum flooded his mouth at once, coating his tongue. Jeramie moaned deeply at the taste. It was like heaven and fireworks going off on his tongue.

“Fuuucckkkk,” Coach groaned, louder than he’d meant to. “You are one insatiable little faggot, ain’cha?”

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Smashwords

Thunder shook the Lecleaux residence.

Lightning streaked across the sky, lighting up the clouds for an instant. The gale cried out as the wind whipped through the neighborhood, scattering children’s toys and shingles to the four corners. Rain battered against the roof and the sides of the house. It was as if some ancient monster was beating its eldritch fists against sheetrock and masonry, trying to claw its way inside.

Jeramie lay bundled up under his covers. He didn’t believe in fairy tale monsters anymore. Since his Daddy started pounding his tight little faggot boypussy, Jeramie didn’t have nightmares. He never felt afraid so long as Detective Lecleaux’s warmth was pressed deep inside of him.

Tonight, however, Jeramie was asleep in his own bedroom. Daddy was in the room next door sleeping with his mom. Faintly, against the pounding of the rain and the rattling of the thunder, Jeramie could hear his father’s light snoring. He could almost picture the slow rise and fall of his father’s muscular, hairy chest.

Thinking about Daddy made Jeramie’s body ache. He wanted to be next to Daddy so badly. His hands needed to explore his father’s chest and stomach, to run his fingers all the way down to where Daddy’s hard cock stuck out from that thick patch of hair. He needed to cup Daddy’s huge balls in both hands and feel how heavy with cum they were.

Thoughts of Daddy made his little boypussy twitch. Jeramie knew that sensation well. He had been taking Daddy’s cock for a while now. That hard meat had carved a path inside of him, forming a groove where the thick, manly cudgel fit perfectly.

Jeramie started to get out of bed, but another clap of thunder shook the house, so he stayed put. He wasn’t usually this afraid of thunder. It was loud, certainly, and that brought with it a degree of caution. But this storm was different somehow. Jeramie could sense it.

The storm was bringing something to Pembrooke Falls—Jeramie’s hometown—and Jeramie wasn’t sure that he liked it.

To calm himself, the eighteen-year-old sleuth began counting the seconds between the lightning and the thunder. Jeramie had learned this trick years ago. One second equaled approximately one mile.

Of course, the storm was right on top of him. He could figure out that much without counting. Primarily, Jeramie wanted something to keep himself occupied. The storm would blow over eventually. He simply had to ride it out.

Gradually, Jeramie became aware of a sound. It was difficult to make out at first. The thunder and the rain together made it hard to hear. Jeramie raised up off his pillow and listened closely. For a moment, though, he thought that he’d heard footsteps.

Every so often, he would hear it again. The thunder would shake the house and mask every other sound, including the rain hitting the roof. As Jeramie continued to listen, he made out a step or two.

Someone was making their way up the staircase from the first floor, stepping in time with the thunder. Except, every so often, they would miscalculate. Jeramie felt sure of it.

Daddy was still asleep. Jeramie could hear his father’s light snores more easily now. It was like his senses were dialed up, on fire and alert for the slightest change. He could make out the footfalls on the soft carpet as they ascended the staircase. Whoever it was turned at the top and headed down the hallway toward him.

Jeramie tried to think, but it was like a fog had encased his skull. He couldn’t put together a plan of action. Nothing on his body wanted to cooperate either. Jeramie struggled to move, as though his bed sheet now weighed a ton.

A blinding flash of lightning shot down out of the sky, streaking past his window. Jeramie turned his head at the exact moment. The window on the right side of his room next to the closet was lit up. Light spilled out toward the bedroom door where a hulking shadow stood.

Jeramie’s eyes widened in shock. He thought he felt his heart skip a beat. The breath in his lungs seized up. His entire body went rigid.

It was Kent, the convict who had broken into his home a couple of weeks ago.

“Hello, bitch!” said Kent. A wide smile, exposing white teeth beamed, spread across the giant of a black man as he took a step into the room. “I’ve been waiting a long time for this.”

Something jumped through Jeramie’s body. It felt like a small electric shock. Whatever it was, the sensation did the trick. At last, he could move. Jeramie had enough time to rise up before Kent was on him. The enormous Black convict reached out with two massive hands, seizing Jeramie in both of them. Jeramie tried to scream, but one hand came down hard over his mouth.

“You ain’t going nowhere, lil’ man!” The strength in Kent’s hands held Jeramie fast. He could feel them squeeze his smaller body. The darkness of his skin—like obsidian—stood out against Jeramie’s pale flesh. “Not until I’ve gotten my piece of boypussy again!”

Jeramie felt himself being lifted into the air. Kent dragged him out of the bed. Jeramie was thrown against the foot, lying face down with his legs hanging off.

“And this time,” Kent said, the hunger in his voice evident, “I ain’t sharing this faggot cunt with nobody!”

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Smashwords

He decided to go look for Shaffeur. There was a possibility that the star dodgeball player hadn’t gone back to class yet. If so, Jeramie could ask him directly.

“Here’s hoping Shaffeur hasn’t finished changing,” he mumbled, beginning the short trek.

The locker room was located on the right side of the gym, near the Visitor bleachers. Jeramie noticed a strange noise as he drew closer to the entrance. The door was cracked ever so slightly. Whoever shut it didn’t make sure the door was closed all the way.

Even better, Jeramie recognized the sounds.

“Fuck me, Coach!” cried a familiar voice, deepening the boyslut detective’s suspicions.

The locker room carried the unmistakable fragrance of young males. Despite this, Jeramie detected a faint trace of something denser. It was heavier and held a much stronger musk which tickled the hairs in his nose.

This confirmed what Jeramie already knew was happening. He could hear deep grunts from far on the other side of the locker area. Heavy breaths came through the thick, moist air. There was the noticeable sound of thick hairy flesh smacking hard against the smooth, tender thighs of a much younger man.

“Please! Please! Please!” cried Shaffer, begging for more. “Fuck me, Coach!”

This left no doubt in his mind. Coach Ramirez was fucking Timothy Shaffer. And, from the sound of things, this wasn’t their first time.

A hot shiver of lust rolled down Jeramie’s spine. He felt the world tilt around him. The smells coming from the locker room were intoxicating, especially for a lusty little slut puppy like himself. Jeramie could feel his cock grow hard in his shorts. His faggot boypussy flexed and puckered, suddenly alive and slick with need.

Smashwords

Smashwords

As Foxx hauled Jeramie into his room, Dirk called out, “Don’t take too long. I gotta take me a man-sized piss.”

Kent and Foxx both ignored him. Neither bothered to close the door to Jeramie’s room. Once they were inside, Foxx tossed Jeramie onto his bed. The eighteen-year-old bounced on the mattress twice, coming to a stop on his belly to stare right at the two escaped convicts.

“Keep an eye on him,” Kent ordered. “I’m gonna get dressed first.”

Jeramie spotted a pile of clothes over by the corner. The other two were still wearing their convict uniforms. They must not have had time to change, Jeramie reasoned. Kent was the only one with any actual clothes to wear.

To Jeramie’s shock, the Black man dropped the towel he had wrapped around his waist. It fell to the floor with a heavy, wet sound. Jeramie had time to register that before something else captured all of his attention.

Kent was, by far and wide, the biggest man he had ever seen!

There was not an inch of fat anywhere on Kent’s whole body. Every single spot contained muscle. It was like looking at a moving statue carved out of solid stone. Each time Kent moved even the slightest bit, a part of him flexed.

Jeramie couldn’t help himself. His youthful eyes raked down over Kent’s massive body. The man had to be at least six-four in height and well over two-hundred pounds of muscle. One bicep looked to be twice the size of Jeramie’s skull. The young man doubted that he could have gotten both of his arms around one thigh. They were just that thick.

Jeramie felt his throat go dry. He tried to swallow in order to wet it.

Foxx caught the look Jeramie was giving Kent and burst out laughing. “Hey, Kent. That lil’ faggot is pervin’ on you something fierce. Check it out!”

Kent turned his head and saw Jeramie starring. “Hell, what’s the matter with you, boy? You ain’t never seen a real man’s body before?”

Kent flexed his arms, which caused multiple muscles all over his body to pop out. Jeramie’s eyes did so as well. He felt his mouth fill up with saliva. Rather than having a dry throat, Jeramie now feared he might drown in his own thirst.

“Fuck, don’t let me feel left out, papito.” With no forewarning, Foxx stripped out of the upper half of his prison uniform. “Like what you see over here?”

Kent rolled his eyes at the other man. Foxx, however, moved closer to his partner so that Jeramie could have a better look. The convict flexed his body, showing off every single muscle, as well as the tattoos that adorned his flesh.

Foxx was, in Jeramie’s assessment, just as physically fit as Kent. The difference came down to a difference in height and the size of their bodies. Kent was the bigger man on the whole. Foxx was slightly shorter and more compact. They were each, however, loaded with rock-hard muscles that bulged when they moved. More importantly, they had been in prison for a long time and were desperate to unload.

“Too bad,” Kent said proudly when Jeramie’s eyes continued to wander back over his way. “Can’t steal the spotlight for too long. Lil’ man must have a weakness for dark meat.”

To emphasize his point, Kent reached down to grasp hold of his cock. “See this?” Kent taunted. “This here’s what makes a real man. You like it?”

Against his will, Jeramie ran the tip of his tongue over his lower lip, wetting it so that it shone in the dim light of the weak winter midday sun. Seeing this as a challenge, Foxx reached down and grabbed hold of his waistband. A quick push dropped both the uniform’s lower half and the boxers underneath.

Smashwords