Funny Bone

by Daniel W. Kelly

  “You want to try and suck it?” Larry asked with a raunchy tone that was clearly his natural way of communicating.

  “Yeah.”

  Larry kneeled on the edge of the sofa with just one knee so that his shaft would project over Emile’s inviting lips. He grabbed his hefty shaft and tapped the bottom against the cushiony pillows that were Emile’s lips.

  “You like that? You want that?” Larry teased, pulling the cock up and away from Emile’s puckering lips.

  “Yes, I want it,” Emile said.

  “You lick it good, pretty man,” Larry said, bringing it back down.

  Emile opened his mouth and Larry placed his shaft right into the valley. He gyrated his hips, pushing the shaft of his cock along the track created by Emile’s parted lips.

  “Put it in my mouth, please.” Emile willingly played the submissive now.

  “You want it in there, don’tcha?” Larry asked.

  “Yes. Please,” Emile said.

  Larry penetrated the warmth like he was wielding a toothbrush, poking the inside of Emile’s far cheek with the head of his cock, making it bulge continuously on the outside. He placed one hand on Emile’s head to better guide his way in and out. He glided his other hand over Emile’s torso, feeling every ridge and cut.

  “You’re fantastic,” Larry said.

  Emile just kept his mouth open so Larry could give it a sideways fuck. Finally, he shifted his head so the cock would come out of his mouth. “Let me lick those tight balls.”

  Larry moved farther up on the sofa and lifted his dick straight up so his testicles would be more prominent. He placed the compact sack right over Emile’s mouth.

  “Whhhooooaaaa!” he sighed as the rough tip of Emile’s tongue danced magically over the surface of his scrotum. “That’s incredible.”

  “I got three fingers in him,” Charlie announced.

  Both Larry and Emile jerked in that direction, Emile particularly amazed that he had not significantly noticed the change.

  Larry leaned over until his eyes were only inches from Emile’s, and, raising one eyebrow, asked, “You want to get fucked?”

  Emile hesitated. “I think so.”

  “I said, do you want to get fucked? Tell me you want to get fucked.” A simultaneously demanding and playful glimmer shined in Larry’s eyes (he was good).

  Emile heard himself saying, “Yes. I want to get fucked. I want you both to fuck my black ass with your white dicks.”

  “That’s right. We’re going to make you feel good, baby. Don’t you worry. My Charlie Cakes is going first, okay?”

  “Charlie and Larry. I’m about to get fucked by two guys with the whitest damn names in the country.” Emile shook his head, unable to contain his smirk.

  “Chuck and Larry,” Larry said brightly. “Like that movie.”

  “Adam Sandler and the fat King of Queens guy,” Emile said. “Two of the whitest guys in the country.”

  Larry simply winked at him, then leaned in closer and kissed Emile gently on the lips. The exchange was a variety of flavors, from White Russian remnants, to Charlie’s asshole, to Larry’s cock shaft.

  Emile separated himself from Larry’s lips. “I’m…I’m not usually the bottom. I need a lubricant.”

  Larry looked around. There on the end table next to the sofa was a bowl of Morgan’s homemade sour cream dip, completely untouched. Larry grabbed the small bowl and brought it to Emile’s face. He dipped a finger in and scooped up some of the cool thickness.

  “You want some of this white goodness?” The cream sparkled wetly as it began to slide down his raised finger.

  “Yes.” Emile opened his mouth.

  Larry inserted his finger and Emile sucked off the sour dip. Larry then scooped a handful of the stuff up in four fingers, leaned all the way over Emile, and slapped it down onto his spread crack. The target in the center danced at the cold contact, sucking in some of the whiteness.

  “Get him lubed up,” Larry said.

  Charlie began to shove the dip into Emile’s well-stretched asshole with his fingers. Larry scooped up more messy spread to join him, and soon they had two fingers each up Emile’s ass.

  “You got four fingers up here, baby. I think you’re ready.” Larry said.

  “Okay,” Emile said.

  “Go for it,” Larry instructed, and Charlie got up on his knees.

  Emile never thought he’d see such a big, burly, hairy white man looming over him, securing his ankles in place with two strong hands.

  “You ready?” Charlie asked.

  “Yeah,” Emile assured him.

  “Okay. Here goes.” Charlie lined his short thickness up against the slathered pucker and pushed. Sour dip oozed out around the sides of the thick-as-a-squash cock as it slipped in.

  “Easy!” Emile gasped as he was punctured, pushing one hand against Charlie’s thigh to slow him. “You’re so fuckin’ thick.”

  Charlie paused. “Sorry.”

  Emile breathed out. “It’s okay.”

  “That’s it. Breathe into it. He’s almost in already,” Larry coached from the sidelines, stroking his dick with one hand and tweaking a nipple with the other. “You got this.”

  “Oh!” Emile’s eyes widened for a moment.

  “I’m in all the way,” Charlie said.

  “Okay. I’m okay,” Emile reassured both Charlie and himself. “I’m embarrassed that I’m black and can’t even handle a dick this short. Oh! Sorry, dude. I didn’t mean it like that.”

  Charlie giggled. “Hey. I’m usually a bottom, so I don’t give a shit how short my dick is.”

  “Actually, I’m…kind of okay with the size,” Emile said as Charlie’s cock pushed against his inner walls.

  “He’s okay. Fuck him,” Larry said.

  Charlie eased in and out of Emile, who soon realized that the challenge was to become elastic enough to accommodate the width of the intrusion. It was sort of like having a butt plug shoved up his ass. He almost would rather Charlie just play that role, simply keeping the fatness unmoving inside him so he could appreciate its stretching abilities.

  “This is really good,” Charlie said weakly as he gave in to the pleasurable grip on his shaft.

  “Don’t blow your load yet,” Larry warned.

  “I gotta stop, then,” Charlie said. He withdrew, watching Emile’s entrance fighting to retract back to its original size.

  Larry, pig that he was, bent over and took Charlie’s stump into his mouth, sucking all the sour cream dip off it. He then lip-locked with Charlie briefly before moving in for his turn.

  “I want your gorgeous ass in the air,” Larry said.

  “Fine. Just don’t even think of dropping the ‘n’ bomb,” Emile warned to satiate his own fears as he flipped over onto his knees.

  “You mean nougat? Or nuts?” Larry asked with a wink as he caressed the black balls dangling between Emile’s legs.

  “Nah, those are cool. And I’ll accept chocolate, cocoa, and mocha, too.” Emile smiled, actually relieved to find that his warning hadn’t unnerved Larry or made him uncomfortable.

  “Come on. All the way up. Arch your back, get your head down on the couch.” Larry gave Emile’s bubbly butt a slap then growled, “That’s iiiiiiit! Fucking magnificent! Look at that fucking pink hole, just gaping for me.”

  Face pressed into the cushion, Emile’s heart jumped with a temporary return of humiliation. Just how “gaping” had he allowed two white men to make his ass? Then he thought about how many white asses had been willingly left with permanent damage he’d caused.

  “I want you in me,” he pleaded, looking over his shoulder and into Larry’s commanding eyes. Larry threw him an evil smirk, simply lathering his cock up with saliva instead of reaching for another scoop of sour cream dip. And he still didn’t remove his pants, just left his jewels sticking through the crotch of his cargos.

  Initially, the entry was no sweat on account of the irony of Charlie and Larry being approximately the same exact
girth. But then came the extension…

  “Ho-ly-fu-cking-moth-er-of-God!” Emile squealed as fullness burrowed through his upper regions. There wasn’t enough of Morgan’s homemade sour cream dip in the world to make this smoother.

  “Breathe into it, baby,” Larry reminded from behind him, much more like a coach than a commander. “Charlie used to be just like you.”

  Charlie, who had just watched in wonder as Larry’s endowment disappeared into another asshole, moved forward and began rubbing the tension out of Emile’s smooth, broad shoulders, also getting a better view of the major insertion.

  “Please wait! Please wait!” Emile cried as three-quarters of Larry was packed inside him.

  “Just a little more to go,” Charlie said, rubbing the thin layer of hair on Emile’s head.

  “Charlie, get up on the couch and distract him,” Larry said, stopping with both of his hands on Emile’s hips. “Let him suck you off again.”

  Charlie’s huge body made the climb, the sofa sinking under the weight of his feet. He faced Emile, who raised his upper body, grabbing on to Charlie’s legs and aiming his head for Charlie’s crotch.

  Larry pushed one hand down on the small of Emile’s back. “Keep it arched, baby.”

  Emile let his stomach muscles relax and dropped into them. Something immediately popped into place.

  “Oooohhhhh, woooooooooow!” he gasped as Larry’s cock found its niche, burying itself to the hilt. Emile’s anus sealed around the base tightly.

  “Fucking tiiiiight!” Larry huffed. “Jesus Christ!”

  “You got it!” Charlie smiled boyishly. “That’s no small feat.”

  “You ready for some movement?” Larry asked.

  Emile looked up at Charlie’s bearded face. Charlie smiled comfortingly down at him. Emile opened his mouth wide and engulfed Charlie’s cock once more, right down to the mesh of his unruly bush. Only then did he nod.

  Larry began to retract his cock, slick with traces of the sour cream dip that was still inside Emile’s guts.

  Emile experienced an uncomfortable relief as he was abrasively vacated almost entirely. And then it was moving back in. It was only slightly easier to take this time, and he moaned around Charlie’s cock. Tears sprang to his eyes. Was it because he was maybe choking a bit on Charlie? Or did Larry’s forced entry hurt? No. It was the euphoria. It was the pure embracing and acceptance of this forbidden pleasure. There was a white man in either end of him. But he wasn’t their play toy. He wasn’t their bitch. And he sure wasn’t their sex slave. He was their desire. He was the center of their world. These were two men who were in love with each other, had spent their lives together (Morgan had bragged about that fact often enough), and right now, all they could think about—all they wanted—was him.

  He wrapped his arms snugly around Charlie’s wide frame, just able to bring his fingers together at the spot where Charlie’s two mammal-like ass mounds met, and pressed his face as far into Charlie’s pubic tufts as it would go. At the same time, he arched his back to the extreme, allowing in the hurt, the pain, and the wonderfully extreme stimulation they brought with them.

  Emile’s entrance was becoming more accommodating with each complete in-and-out thrust. It was hard for the two white men to tell, but he was actually squealing a stream of ecstasy. His hands grabbed chunks of Charlie’s hairy ass flesh and he simply suckled on Charlie’s cock like it was a pacifier rather than trying to ride up and down on it.

  “Oh God! That’s g-g-g-gooood!” Charlie stammered. “Emile, you’re gonna make it happen!”

  He grabbed the top of Emile’s head to politely push him away, but he met resistance. Emile clung to him aggressively. Charlie swelled inside the suction then blew directly against the back of Emile’s throat, spasms shooting through him when Emile’s mouth tightened even more as his throat muscles contracted in order to swallow.

  Emile’s upturned eyes watched the hulking man unload inside him. Charlie’s face flushed, his bearded jaw clenched. Hands that had tried to gently push Emile’s head away instead gripped it. Then it was done, and Charlie’s great wad slipped down his willing throat. Charlie shuddered violently, his big man tits shaking, sweat dripping off his nipple tips. When he finally opened his eyes, he looked down at Emile with silent thanks. Then weak dizziness overtook him. He was spent.

  Charlie pulled out of Emile’s mouth, swaying on the cushion. He hurriedly but carefully got his monstrous physique down to a lower altitude and sat on the sofa, dropping his head back in exhaustion. Emile reached up and stroked his beard with the tips of his fingers.

  Charlie took the hand and kissed the fingertips. “Thank you.”

  “I want you to ride it,” Larry’s gruff voice shattered their tender moment. He dropped his ass onto the heels of his feet, bringing Emile’s ass with him. Stretching his torso, he leaned back, his chest and stomach muscles rippling. “Come on, baby. Up and down on it.”

  Emile’s upper body rose as his ass fell back against Larry’s waist. Back still arched so his bubble butt would swell for Larry to enjoy, he used his powerful thighs to ride the thickness inside of him, pulling almost all the way off with clenched buttocks before swiftly thumping back down and letting his cheeks go lax so his crack would part.

  Larry reached around and grabbed Emile’s nipples, twisting and yanking on them. Emile stuck his chest out to receive the attention. Tits and ass protruding in opposite directions to receive the pleasure, he wondered if he wasn’t striking too feminine a pose. But it didn’t matter. All that mattered was how alive his erogenous zones were.

  “Damn!” Larry said. “You better cum if you want to, because you’re getting me there.”

  Emile didn’t hesitate. He grabbed hold of his long shaft and stroked furiously. The dry friction—and the intense pressure against his insides—did the trick in seconds. He howled as his huge mushroom head swelled like it was going to burst. Watery streams of white shot over the sofa, finding a landing field in the hairy plains of Charlie’s nearby stomach. His ass muscles clamped down on Larry’s dick.

  “Yeeeee-aaaaaahhh!” Larry made the word two syllables as the pressure in his tight balls was released, gushing up into Emile’s works.

  They rose to meet each other, the inward curve of Emile’s back connecting perfectly with the outward bulge of Larry’s stomach. Emile turned to look over his shoulder, where Larry met him for a deep kiss. They both stank of sweat. White and black sweat. Two great smells that became great together.

  “Come on, baby. Bend over so I can get out. You’re like a fucking vise now,” Larry said.

  Emile dropped to his elbows, relieving the pressure somewhat. Larry placed his hands on Emile’s ass cheeks, pushing his thumbs into the anal area to help with the vacating of his softening shaft. Emile was incredibly aware of his rectum closing up, and also aware of how incredibly loose it had become.

  They sat on the sofa, Emile in the middle next to Charlie, Larry on the other end. No one spoke for a moment, but both white men reached a hand out, each taking one of Emile’s until they were linked like a chain. Unaware they were going to do it, they all shut their eyes and soon drifted off to sleep.

  There was no telling how long they had been out when they were all jarred awake by Morgan’s frantic whine. “Tell me you did not do it on my sofa!”

  Chris & Jake: Happily Ever After

  I could not believe it when the day of the big wedding arrived. It had seemed like a dream only a year ago. But now it was a reality. I was in a tux, Jake was in a tux, and damn, was he stunning. I know I always go on about how gorgeous, hot, studly, and manly he is, but on the day of the wedding, I saw for the first time just how strikingly handsome he was: freshly shaven; that Caesar cut a thing of the past and his hair now grown in thicker and suavely moussed up and over; two shiny new hoop earrings adorning his ears; his head so defined and boxed with clean, stern lines. Looking at him just made my heart flutter.

  You’re going to think me crazy, but it was
me who introduced him to his fiancée. So I had no one but myself to blame for Jake moving on with his sex life. Two years ago, I’d befriended a new chick at work, just around the time I’d lost a friend at work because Jake had moved on with the career part of his life as well. She was strong yet stunningly feminine, sophisticated, and intelligent with a crazy and edgy side. We’d hit it off immediately, and I’d become her gay husband at work. As our friendship deepened and we got much more detailed about the intimate joys in life, I knew that she needed to meet Jake. Oh yeah. She was just the kind of freaky deaky he’d been looking for (ass licker, strap-on queen, nipple sucker—she knew how to show complete appreciation for the male body). When I’d first pointed Jake out from across a room at a party, she’d rolled her eyes and given me hell for trying to set her up with a typical chauvinistic steroid head. But I insisted he was so much more than that (no, I never told her, and neither of us ever will, about our special relationship) and soon began setting up situations where we could all hang out as a group.

  Before long, they were crazy about each other, she and I gave Jake a much-needed makeover that better fit his open-minded personality, and Jake and I quickly agreed that it was best that we end the physical part of our friendship. It was a mutual agreement with absolutely no hard feelings, and not even a final wham bam. The last night he came over for one of our interludes, we talked about it and neither of us even felt comfortable doing it one more time. I mean, she was my best female friend and his girlfriend. And within a year, his fiancée. And today, his bride.

  Jake and I now stood at the long vanity mirror in the groom’s suite of the catering hall where the secular ceremony and reception would be taking place. He was fixing his cuff links, I was combing my modestly whitening beard. Finally, my eyes caught his in the reflection.

  He grinned with more warmth and joy then I’d ever seen. “You look incredibly handsome, buddy.”

  I smiled with sealed lips. “Please. It’s like I’m not even in the room standing next to you. You’ve never looked better.”