— Previously published in Inches magazine - November, 1998 —
— Cash coaxes cock from Texan
My master plan of getting my buddy Sam drunk on his twenty-fifth birthday
had failed. I'd been wanting to get into that cowpoke's tight jeans ever
since I'd met him. Two months ago, he moved to this one-horse, East
Texas town and went to work at the same plant as me. We were on our way
to the store to pick up some six-packs when my red '57 truck broke down
in front of Mr. Lovejoy's Victorian mansion.
"Try it again, Stu," Sam suggested, his deep baritone voice making my
"She won't budge," I sighed, my heavy cowboy boot pumping the
accelerator as I tried to start the engine once more. Finally giving up,
I slumped back in the worn bench seat, stretching out my lanky body. "Helluva
birthday, huh, buddy?" I mumbled, my dark green eyes taking another
gander down between Sam's meaty, spread thighs. I just knew I'd missed
my chance of ever seeing the cock that was making a huge bulge in his
"Don't sweat it, man." Sam glanced out my cracked windshield at the
spring storm brewing in the north. "Whose house is that?" he asked,
noticing the big ol' mansion perched up on the hill.
"Mr. Lovejoy's," I answered, wondering if I ought to tell Sam just how
well I knew the guy. Mr. Lovejoy and I met six years ago when I was
eighteen. It was after baseball practice, and I was walking home. Mr.
Lovejoy's big black car pulled up beside me. He buzzed down the window
and told me he'd pay twenty-five bucks to suck my cock. I nervously
agreed, and Mr. Lovejoy and I have maintained our arrangement ever
since, with a pay hike of course.
"Looks like he's home," Sam said, opening the door of my truck. He stood
out on the sidewalk straight and tall, stretching his long arms high
above his tattered straw cowboy hat. "Let's go ask 'im if we can use his
Reluctantly, I got out the cab of the truck. Sam and I headed up the
steep steps leading to Mr. Lovejoy's house. Thunder rumbled in the
distance, lightning flashed all around us, and our long legs skipped
every other step. We were a little out of breath when we finally reached
Mr. Lovejoy's expansive front porch. Sam rang the doorbell, then leaned
against the white house and crossed his cowboy boots. One of the fancy
double doors creaked open, and Mr. Lovejoy's toupee-covered little head
"Stuart!" Mr. Lovejoy's effeminate, raspy voice greeted us as he flung
back the door and stood there, wearing a burgundy smoking jacket. His
beady little brown eyes roamed Sam's and my beefy, buffed bods, drinking
us in. "You naughty man," he gushed. "You haven't been by lately." His
eyes were fixed on Sam's handsome, smooth, angular face. "But you're
here now," he added. "And you've brought this tasty young man with you,
too. Please, come in."
As Sam and I stepped into Mr. Lovejoy's expansive entry hall, I wondered
what Sam was thinking. Mr. Lovejoy closed the door and locked it, then
turned around and commenced to staring at Sam's statuesque body again,
which towered over his own. "Let's go into the drawing room and have a
drink first," Mr. Lovejoy suggested. He scurried past me and led us down
the end of a long hall.
"What the fuck's goin' on here, Stu?" Sam mumbled under his breath.
I glanced over at Sam's perplexed face. "It's a long story," I mumbled
back, motioning for Sam to come on. "I'll tell ya 'bout it later, okay?"
"Okay," Sam conceded. "Just tell the little fella we wanna use his
phone, and let's get the hell out ta here."
"It's not nice to whisper," Mr. Lovejoy quipped, flinging open the
double doors of the large antique-filled room. He sauntered over to the
bar and grabbed a crystal decanter filled with bourbon. "On the rocks,
or with water?" he asked, reaching for a fancy glass.
"We ain't here for a drink," Sam sneered. "We just wanna--"
"I know why you're here," Mr. Lovejoy interrupted, slamming the glass
down. The gutsy little fucker marched right over to Sam and knelt before
his towering body. "And I know what you want," he stated, his small
hands suddenly unbuckling Sam's wide Western belt and unfastening his
"Stop it!" Sam's deep voice commanded, his big hands swatting at Mr.
Lovejoy. He stepped back and started fastening his jeans. "Stu might be
into this shit, but I ain't."
My cheeks turned red.
Mr. Lovejoy placed his hands on his narrow hips and glanced up at Sam's
angry face. "Do you want your fifty dollars or not?"
"Fifty bucks to suck my cock?" Sam asked. Mr. Lovejoy nodded. A strange
look came over Sam's face. It was like he was putting two and two
together. He glanced over at me with a knowing grin and then looked back
down at Mr. Lovejoy. His hands began to busily reverse their actions.
"Have at it, little fella," he snickered, popping open his button fly as
he stepped closer to Mr. Lovejoy's kneeling body.
I watched eagerly as Sam's big hand dove deep inside his drawers and
pulled the cock I'd been hankering to see. His huge-ass nuts were the
first thing to appear above the elastic waistband of his white briefs.
Suddenly he moved his hand and there it was. The fucker was a foot long!
His smooth, thick shaft was wide as a wagon-hitch with a big ol' blunt
pinkish-white head on the end of it the size of a doorknob! His thick,
ample foreskin was wrapped cozily around the underside of the swelling
crown. Lots of long, thick, coarse brown hairs sprouted out between the
split of Sam's denim shirt and sprinkled his plump nuts. As I watched
Sam fist his monster cock, my prick started moving inside my briefs, my
stiffening, fleshy shaft pulling itself free from my tangled nest of
"Delightful," Mr. Lovejoy gasped, clapping his small hands together,
watching Sam's huge cock hardening before his eyes. Sam winked at me as
he reached down and pulled his denim shirttail up out of the way. Mr.
Lovejoy leaned forward, took hold of Sam's rigid cock, and swallowed
that big head with one gulp.
"Ya like suckin' that big cock, don't ya?" Sam grunted, thrusting his
hairy pelvis, ramming his long rod down Mr. Lovejoy's throat. Gagging
and choking on Sam's thick fucker, Mr. Lovejoy nodded. "Suck it harder,"
Sam hissed through gritted teeth, wrapping his big hands around the back
of Mr. Lovejoy's scrawny neck.
The sight of my beefy buddy power-fucking Mr. Lovejoy's throat made me
hotter than a whore on Saturday night. I jerked open my belt and jeans,
slung my chunky thumbs inside the waistband of my briefs, and anchored
them underneath my swollen, hairy nuts, freeing my fully erect cock.
About the time I commenced to fisting my shaft, Mr. Lovejoy dragged his
well-stretched lips off Sam's rod for a breather. His beady little eyes
darted back and forth from my hard cock to Sam's.
"Why don't you come and take my place, Stuart?" Mr. Lovejoy suggested,
huffing and puffing.
My dark green eyes glanced over at Sam 's handsome face for his
reaction. "Don't make a damn to me, buddy," Sam sneered. Then he peered
down at Mr. Lovejoy's wrinkled face. "Long as I still get my fifty
"Good," Mr. Lovejoy said, elated and scrambling to his feet. He took a
seat on one of the dark red velvet sofas at either side of the
I shuffled over in front of Sam and squatted down. He grabbed his thick
shaft at the root and aimed it toward my creamy pink lips. Placing my
hands at either side of Sam's thirty-inch waist, I leaned forward,
opened my mouth real wide, and engulfed about a third of Sam's thick
cock, my wet lips gliding down his long rod. Then, like the seasoned
cocksman I am, I commenced to deep-throating his fleshy tool, his
prickly brown cock hair tickling my nose on the down-strokes. The salty
taste of his cock flesh tingled my palate, and the potent odor of his
sweaty pubes made my bobbing head woozy. My steely cock was sticking
straight out between the gaping tail of my black Western shirt--my
flexing, hairy nuts dangling over the elastic waistband of my
briefs--and my tight asshole puckering against the stretched cotton seat
of my drawers.
Still feverishly going after Sam's beef-stick, my thick fingers crawled
inside his white briefs and slid them down his firm, round hips, below
his deep, hair-filled ass crack. He moaned deeply when my fingertips
found the tiny wrinkles of his buried shit-hole. I massaged his tender
anus carefully, yet effectively.
"Wish ya'd stick that hot tongue of yours in there," Sam grunted,
fucking my warm mouth sure and steady.
I dragged my drooling sore lips off his monster cock and raked the back
of my hand across my wide mouth. "You got it, buddy," I panted.
"I'm not paying extra for this," Mr. Lovejoy stated, watching Sam
spinning himself around on the heels of his cowboy boots, lunging over
the other velvet sofa, and grabbing the back of it.
At this point, Sam was so worked-up from the excellent head-job I'd been
giving him, I don't think he gave a damn about the money anymore. He was
more concerned with reaching back and parting his hairy ass so my
pointed tongue could reach his puckered chute. Breathless from the
beauty of Sam's buxom butt, I placed my hands on his firm hips, planted
my sweaty face between his spread ass, and commenced to chowing down on
his succulent manhole, swirling my slimy tip around his raspberry
"Yeah, lick it," he howled, grinding his hairy hips against my smothered
face and lapping tongue. I dipped my slippery tip into the core of his
puckering folds and commenced to tongue-fucking his tangy butthole.
"Man, oh, man," he gasped, arching his broad back, banging his buxom
butt back on my impaling tongue.
My slobbering muscle darted in and out of his tight asshole briskly,
riding his pulsing ripe rim. Sam continued banging his sweaty ass
against my face, sending my rigid tip spiraling deep inside his warm
rectal tunnel. As my hard nuts eased their way up toward the base of my
twitching cock, pre-cum beaded on my wide piss-slit. With the way Sam
was carrying on, I didn't figure he could last much longer--I damn sure
knew I couldn't!
"I'm gonna blow," Sam's baritone voice growled, his hairy ass slapping
against my flustered face faster and harder, his big fist whacking the
hell out of his monster meat.
"Not on the sofa!" Mr. Lovejoy screeched. "Not on the sofa! " He hopped
off the velvet couch and ran over to our beefy bodies.
But Mr. Lovejoy's warning was too late. I could tell from the walleyed
fit he was pitching that Sam had already started firing his loaded cock
While Mr. Lovejoy raved on about his precious sofa, Sam's strong
sphincter squeezed my flicking tongue as he deposited all of his jizz on
the dark red velvet upholstery. I reached down between my spread thighs
and commenced to beating my pulsing cock to climax.
"Oh, dear," Mr. Lovejoy sighed mournfully, watching syrupy cum oozing
out my crimson piss-hole, trickling over my jacking fist, and dribbling
onto the oriental carpet. " Not my rug, too!"
After we'd both emptied our loaded chambers, Sam flipped himself around
and flopped his hairy ass down on the cum-striped velvet seat. I slumped
to my bony knees and rested back on my haunches. Mr. Lovejoy yanked a
linen hanky from the sleeve of his smoking jacket, got down on his
knees, and tried feverishly to blot the glistening pools of my slimy
jizz from the rug.
Madder than a wet hen, Mr. Lovejoy finally gave up. "I have a good mind
not to pay you at all," he huffed breathlessly as he walked back over to
the other sofa and plopped down.
"Calm down, little fella," Sam spat.
I could feel this whole scene getting ugly. "He's right, Sam," I began,
quickly coming up with a scheme to get me and Sam out of this mess. "Mr.
Lovejoy shouldn't pay us since we came on his sofa and rug."
"Fuck that shit," Sam snapped. "A deal's a deal."
I looked Mr. Lovejoy right in his beady little eyes. "Would you pay us
if I let Sam butt-fuck me?"
"You always know how to soothe my ruffled feathers, Stuart," Mr. Lovejoy
gushed. "Of course I'll pay you for that." He got up off the sofa,
walked over to a marble-top table, and opened a jeweled box.
"Have ya lost your fuckin' mind?" Sam asked gruffly. I shook my head,
hastily stripping off my clothes. "Ya really want me to fuck ya?"
I met Sam's glare with willing eyes. "I'm game if you are."