As always, the tower of a man stared in silence. Deepak noticed his lips curling up at the sides. Rude Rudy knew why a person would have shortening in his locker, he just didn’t want to explain.
‘Cousin, you don’t want to know what a man can get up to with a slab of shortening,’ The Fist replied.
‘I do now,’ Walter said. ‘You got me damn curious.’
Thank God for the boss! From the lunchroom door, he called, ‘OK, enough chit-chat. Let’s get back to work.’
The Fist slipped the box of shortening into the front pocket of his hooded sweater. As everyone else set off into the warehouse, the boss walked their way. Fist shut Deepak’s locker door and leaned against it. ‘To what do we owe the pleasure of your company?’ Fist asked the boss.
‘To the shit-load of cardboard boxes out by the compactor. They’re full of fuckin’ Styrofoam. You four want to deal with that?’
A smile broke across Rude Rudy’s face. Walter spoke for all of them when he said, ‘You got it.’
It was the easiest work in the warehouse. They must have weaselled their ways into the boss’ good books. When they got to the compactors it looked like kids had been building box forts all around them. There was cardboard everywhere, piled way up high. Deepak started by dumping Styrofoam peanuts into clear bags. Packing could reuse them. The other guys broke down the empty boxes. Soon enough, Walter asked again, ‘What’s the story with the shortening? I can’t get over that one.’
With a wide grin, The Fist pulled it from his pocket. ‘Yeah, Deep,’ he said, feigning innocence. ‘Do tell. What’s the story with the shortening?’
Deepak gritted his teeth. What did Fist expect him to say? He knew what it was for. Fishing the last few bits of Styrofoam from the bottom of a box, he mumbled, ‘Leave me alone.’
‘Are you sure you don't want me getting my hand all good and greasy?’ Fist taunted, swaggering in Deepak’s direction. He tossed the box of shortening up in the air, watched it flip, and caught it when it fell. ‘Are you sure you don’t want me shoving my fist up your ass?’
Walter gasped. ‘What are you on about, Fist? Leave the Rudeness to Rudy. You just get your work done.’
Without lifting his animal gaze from his prey, Fist replied, ‘Nothing to worry about, cousin. Deep’s into it.’ He sliced along the tape line with his box cutter and tossed the limp sheet of cardboard to the floor. Sliding the blade in and out of casing, he looked Deepak up and down. Was that supposed to be some kind of threat?
‘You like to get packed deep, don’t you Deep-pack?’ Fist sneered. Rudy picked up all the broken-down cardboard and tossed it in the compactor. All Deepak could concentrate on was the razor edge of the box- cutter’s blade. In the close corner, Walter looked like he was going to shit himself. He jumped three feet in the air when Rudy pressed the big red button on the compactor. Even The Fist turned around when the big machine grunted, devouring a big pile of recyclables. They all stood still, mesmerised by the device until it squealed to a halt.
Walter was the first to speak. ‘Why don’t we all just break down these boxes? That’s what the man’s paying us for.’
‘Deepak doesn’t want to break boxes,’ Fist mocked. He sauntered over to the first aid kit. With all the influenza concerns, management had installed wall-mounted hand sanitizing stations all over the place. Fist squirted some into his palm and sloshed it between his hands. ‘All clean,’ he said to Deepak. ‘What’s the story? You want me to deep-pack my fist in your ass?’
Deepak stepped around a huge bag of Styrofoam peanuts to get close to Fist. He choked back tears and hissed, ‘You’re humiliating me. Stop it. Just shut the fuck up, will you?’
The Fist’s neat black eyebrows cocked in response. He thrived on impudence. Raising the box cutter to the shortening package, he slit the box open. Deepak stepped back, but slipped. Some luck, to fall on a bag of Styrofoam. He lay there, staring up at The Fist, the knife, and the shortening.
Gazing down at him, The Fist flipped the shortening into his palm and tossed the box to the floor. He placed the box cutter in one of the many pockets of his cargo pants before peeling waxy paper from the hunk of grease. ‘You brought this shit to work for a reason,’ The Fist said. He ran three dark fingers across the top of the shortening slab. The creamy stuff glistened as he rubbed it with his thumb.
‘This is fuckin’ crazy,’ Deepak hissed. He tried to laugh, to downplay the threat, but he knew how insistent The Fist could be. As much as he didn’t want to acknowledge the other guys’ presence, he glanced at Walter in desperation.
‘You think Walter’s going to help you?’ The Fist laughed. He slid his palm across the slab. When he closed his fist, globs of grease splattered out between his fingers. ‘Walter ain’t going to come to your rescue. Shit, he’s your hear-no-evil monkey. Rudy there, he’s your speak-no-evil monkey. And the rest of this warehouse? It’s just one big-ass see-no-evil monkey. You got no chance, man. You just got to give in.’
Of course he was right. Sure, Deepak was scared shitless, but he was also so fuckin’ horny he slid out of his jeans without waiting to be asked. From the corner, Walter gasped, ‘What are you doing? Put your clothes on and get to work.’
The Fist only had to glance at him to get him to shut up. Walter was better than most at following instructions. He cowered in the corner while Deepak slid his jockeys down to his ankles. The plastic under his bare ass squealed. Without removing his safety boots, he kicked off his bottoms.
‘Get breaking boxes,’ The Fist instructed Walter. ‘When Deep gets packed, we’ll need that compactor to make some noise.’
Deepak’s heart had never beaten so fast. He’d never seen his cock so hard. The Fist’s hand gleamed a beautiful brown under the slick layer of shortening. His teeth sparkled when he smiled. Nobody else had lips like The Fist. If only he’d wrap them around his cock. Deepak was desperate for a blowjob.
‘I’ll do as you ask because you’re family,’ Walter said when he finally emerged from the corner. ‘But I don’t agree with what’s going on here. We don’t want no part in it, do we, Rudy?’
Rude Rudy stood tall. He made no response.
Deepak was still looking back at the guys when The Fist landed on the floor between his legs. He plunged his hand into the shortening and squeezed. His palm was covered in grease when he ran it along Deepak’s straining shaft. ‘There,’ The Fist said. ‘I want to see you jerk your fat cock while I finger-fuck your ass.’
His breaths were shallow as he replied, ‘OK.’ Course, it’s not like anyone really had to beg him to jack it. He took his thick dick in hand and rubbed the slippery grease across his shaft. It felt so damn good he could have bust a nut. What would The Fist say if he did? He let go of his cock until the urge passed.
‘I told you to hit your prick,’ The Fist growled.
‘Sorry,’ Deepak sighed. He took it in hand and pumped. When The Fist traced his greased-up index finger around his asshole, he closed his eyes and tried to relax. Even one finger could be a task if he wasn’t ready. He breathed deeply as The Fist ploughed him with the first finger. He could hear Walter gasping even as he sighed with pleasure.
The Fist offered some encouragement as his greasy finger moved in circles. ‘Deep, you got a tight little pussy-hole here, don’t you?’
He pumped his cock slowly. He wanted to make his erection last as long as possible. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I know it’s tight.’
‘Hey, don’t sorry me,’ The Fist laughed. ‘You’re the one who’s going to get a fist all up in there.’ He grabbed hold of Deepak’s thigh as he shoved a second finger inside.
Inhaling sharply, Deepak stroked his dick from base to tip. If he were just pounding one out, he’d go straight at his cockhead until it sprayed jizz. But he wanted to make this one last. For The Fist.
Three fingers. ‘Tight fuckin’ fit,’ The Fist said. Like he knew the half of it. Three fingers to the knuckles. Deepak tugged his meat while The Fist plunged inside.
Firm, greasy fingers fucked him good.
‘Time for more shortening,’ Fist said, plunging his hand into the destroyed slab. He knew what would come next. Fist would skip from three to five. The pinky was a stupid finger. It didn’t deserve time wasted on it. He’d fold the pinky in with the other three, then press his thumb flat against his palm. It wasn’t really a fist at all. It was more like a bulb. Getting fisted wasn’t like getting punched. It was more like getting fed full-up. With his greased hand, The Fist prepared to nourish him.
When those slippery fingers set against Deepak’s hole, he could feel his assring expanding like an infinite elastic. It kept getting looser to let The Fist in. Not all at once. It wasn’t like tight to slack in six seconds. Took time. Took breathing. Took a kind of give and take. Fist knew not to rush. Rush it, and it’s all over. You’re bleeding, you’re in pain, and you hate the guy who did it to you. Take your time, and it feels better than any damn thing you’ve ever done in your life. The Fist took his time.
Concentrating on The Fist’s focused expression, Deepak beat his rod. As he pulled on it, slick fingers eased their way through the welcoming ring of his asshole. God damn it, Fist was hot. He didn’t think his ecstasy could reach greater heights until heavy footsteps resounded behind him. Shit! The boss was coming! His ass got so tight it trapped Fist’s fingertips in place. But when he instinctively turned his head to see, it wasn’t the boss at all. Rude Rudy approached as Walter turned a blind eye, slicing through boxes over by the compactor.
Rudy unlatched his overalls. He didn’t seem to notice as they fell to the floor. His sleeveless top was short enough for Deepak to get a good look at his commando cock before it lodged itself down his throat. He choked as Rudy knelt on the bag of Styrofoam peanuts, one knee on either side of his head. But his main concern wasn’t for himself. How would The Fist feel about him sucking another guy’s cock?
When Rude Rudy threw himself forward and swallowed Deepak’s wood, he immediately stopped sputtering. He didn’t mind so much deep-throating a guy who returned the favour. Fist laughed in the background. Thank God he wasn’t mad! Last think Deepak wanted to do was inadvertently piss off the guy with four fingers in his ass.
He wouldn’t have expected Rude Rudy to be a pro cocksucker, but he sure as shit was. The heavy aroma of sweaty man-ass took over Deepak’s senses as soft lips encircled his tip. When a wicked tongue slid down his shaft, he gasped out loud. He tried to keep quiet, but no use. It all felt too damn good.
‘Turn on the compactor,’ The Fist said to Walter. ‘When this kid blows, it’s going to be epic.’
Walter grumbled, but that was only audible until he followed instructions and turned on the machine. It made the floor tremble. It devoured cardboard while he devoured Rudy and Rudy devoured him. Reaching under his T-shirt, Deepak pinched his nipples. God, that felt awesome! His ass must have swallowed an inch of Fist’s hand in response. There was so damn much going on he could hardly keep track of it all.
When he opened his eyes, it was Rude Rudy’s toned body he saw above him. Even with the compactor humming in the background, he could still hear the man groaning as he ate his hard meat. The plastic bag they were on must have sprung a leak, because every so often a Styrofoam peanut would fly up in the air and flutter back down.
His ass got filled in the midst of all this. Deepak had little sense of it’s in or it’s not in. Fisting was relative. It was all the same sensation, just in varying degrees. His hole felt full and slick. The more Fist’s hand entered him, the more packed he felt. He had no sense of whether Fist was in his ass up to the knuckles or whether he was farther along than that.
In the background, the compactor churned to a halt. He could hear Walter working his ass off to get more boxes broken down. Poor guy. Left to work all on his own while the others sucked and fist-fucked. Deepak opened his legs and dug his feet into the ground while Fist spread even more grease around. He was getting in there deep. He knew exactly what Fist was about to say when he opened his mouth. ‘You feeling Deep-packed yet?’
Deepak responded yes, though with a mouth full of cock, his answer was completely garbled. He’d never felt so full in his life. His asshole tried its damnedest to close, but of course there was a wrist in the way. He could feel Rude Rudy laughing as he sucked like a banshee. When he pinched his own little nipples, all the combined pleasures overwhelmed him. Even with The Fist’s hand up his ass, he thrust up into Rudy’s throat. Rudy thrust down into his. They were making some serious noise. Enough that The Fist said, ‘Walter, turn that fucking thing back on.’
The compactor grunted louder than even the three of them could manage. Deepak was pretty sure he and Rudy came together, filling each other’s mouths with hot come simultaneously. He couldn’t stop shaking, even as Rudy pressed up and away from him. Styrofoam peanuts went flying into the air. His thighs trembled. It didn’t matter that Rude Rudy’s silent mouth was gone. Come still pumped from his cockhead, warming his skin.
Without all the distraction of sucking cock, Deepak clearly felt The Fist’s fingers opening slightly and closing back up against the walls of his ass. He didn’t seem at all upset about Rude Rudy’s involvement. In fact, The Fist watched in seeming amazement as the strong silent man pulled up his overalls and sauntered over to the gap in boxes. He’d keep a lookout for the boss while The Fist turned his hand in slow pivots. Getting out was a lot like getting in. Took time.
‘I don’t believe this,’ Walter muttered in the background. He was the only one still dumping Styrofoam and breaking down boxes. ‘I do not believe what I see.’
Gazing into The Fist’s hard gaze, Deepak fought back tears. ‘I don’t believe it either,’ he said. ‘Doing this to my body right here in the warehouse, in front of your cousin and Rudy? This is humiliating.’
‘Humiliating?’ The Fist chuckled. When he turned his hand side to side, Deepak squeezed his hard titties underneath his T-shirt. That never failed. His assring loosened for The Fist. ‘You can’t fool me. You love getting packed deep.’ His hand felt huge as it emerged from his ass.
Deepak tried not to push, but his body’s instinct was to expel. ‘Why are you doing this to me?’
‘Because you want it,’ The Fist said. ‘That’s why you brought this grease to work.’ As his knuckles began their brave escape, the pressure on his assring mounted. It started with a whimper, but soon Deepak couldn’t conceal his pleasure-pained cries.
‘Turn on the compactor,’ Fist hissed at Walter. He wasted no time.
As the compactor rumbled to a start, Deepak pinched his nipples. He moaned at the huge sensation in his hole, but the machine covered his tracks.
‘You wanted me to shove my whole hand in your ass,’ The Fist accused. Deepak could only just hear him over the compactor’s rumble. The sneer on his lips made him feel small. He was a tiny, tight little hole and The Fist was mammoth. ‘Admit it. You wanted this.’
‘You’re humiliating me,’ Deepak repeated.
The Fist cocked his eyebrows. His hand retreated.
A wild shriek exploded from Deepak as a set of knuckles raged through his assring. Thank God for the damn compactor! He couldn’t explain the tears in his eyes as The Fist rested four fingers just inside his hole. It felt so damn good to be full. Now he was open, but there was nothing inside him. Not really.
The Fist pulled out his fingers and stared Deepak straight in the face. His legs were splayed wide open, his spent cock resting on his pelvis, and his asshole taking its time to close up shop. The compactor roared in the background.
‘I’ve never been so humiliated. Not in my whole life,’ Deepak said. He was so exhausted he couldn’t even smile.
The Fist had no trouble smiling. A grin wide as daybreak broke across his lips as he leaned up close. ‘I thought you’d like that.’
The compactor’s wild reverberations made it impossible to think of something original to say. But if he couldn’t be original, at least he could be heartfelt. There was no way Wal
ter or Rude Rudy could hear, with that machine going strong, so Deepak sighed, ‘That was the best gift I’ve ever gotten.’
The Fist shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. As the compactor squealed to a standstill, he whispered, ‘Happy anniversary.’
Wired
by Landon Dixon
I got a sense this was going to be one of my more interesting jobs when I saw Dan and Elliot fucking in the basement.
I’d gone down there, innocently enough, to get to the main electrical box and trip a few breakers. The guys had hired me to do a total rewire of their upstairs. And now I was getting more than a little wired myself – watching the two men get a big charge out of each other.
My work boots on the wooden stairs didn’t give me away, because the two lovers had classic Queen blaring out of a battery-powered ghetto blaster. Dan had Elliot flat on his back on the pool table at the far end of the rec room, vigorously slamming his cock into the writhing guy’s asshole as Freddy Merc hit all the right high notes.
I thought about retracing my steps backwards up the stairs, discreetly waiting for the horndogs to finish what they’d started. Which judging from the sweat shining on Dan’s rocking back and bucking butt cheeks, the excited grunting and groaning of the shunted Elliot sounding even over the rollicking guitar licks, wasn’t too far in the offing.
But as I squatted down on the stairs and clenched the wooden slats of the railing, watching Dan’s trim, tanned hips churning, Elliot’s pale, muscular legs bouncing off the guy’s thin shoulders, Elliot flinging his head from side-to-side and pinching and pulling on his nipples, I thought, Right here is where I want to be – taking a break and taking in the electric show these livewires are putting on. So, I maintained my position, the 15 hour quote I’d given the guys going into overtime.
Boy Fun, Four Book Bundle Page 5
