The Men of the City Barbershop of Detroit
by Calvin Freeman
Copyright 2015
Author's note: All characters depicted in sexual acts in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older.
Use of an image of a model in this ebook or in advertisements for it does not suggest that the model is depicted in the work presented here, nor that the model participates in, endorses, condones or approves of the thoughts or behavior described in this ebook.
CHAPTER ONE
The Swaggerous Lean
Walter was nervous about starting his new job for two reasons. First of all, he was beginning work as a barber, having just earned his cosmetology license. The second reason was that he was a gay man working at the City Barbershop, a chain that had an unofficial reputation as a spot where straight men could get some no-questions action from a gay man. Traditionally speaking, what happened there didn't count, and no one was allowed to talk about it outside of the shop.
Since Walter was gay, it would undoubtedly be assumed that he was going to service these straight men. He absolutely wasn't opposed to it -- he loved str8 cock, and he wasn't ashamed of it. He was excited. But it was still a nerve-wracking experience. He didn't know how the other barbers would react to him, how violent the neighborhood was, or even how many guys might expect his services in a given day (either haircutting or cocksucking services, he didn't know).
His first couple clients, however, were children -- his first day was the last day of summer break, so there were a lot of children getting gussied up for school. It wasn't until near closing-time that the first even remotely plausible conquest showed up.
His name was Dwayne. It seemed everyone in the shop knew him.(Yo, wuz crackin', Dwayne?) He was tall and lanky, though not exactly skinny -- he had long limbs and ropy muscles, inked with tattoos. He had a wild and untamed fro when before his haircut.
"You new, huh?" he asked with a nod once Walter got started. Walter nodded. He lowered his voice. "You queer, right?" Walter nodded to that too. Dwayne frowned and looked down.
(Yuh, nigga...)
Did he just grab his dick? Walter wasn't sure. It looked like he might have, beneath the barber's chair apron. Walter didn't want to make an unwelcome pass at someone, especially a mean-looking thug like Dwayne. He glowered at Walter as though mad the haircut wasn't already complete.
"So what's back there, huh?" He nodded towards the door to the backroom. "Bathrooms and shit?"
"Uh, yeah... Yeah, bathrooms... Or one bathroom, I mean." Walter said. He smiled as he brought the mirror up so Dwayne could see the back of his head. His afro was now very short, but at least it was even. He nodded with satisfaction.
"That it?"
"Uh... I mean, there's storage back there, I think."
Dwayne chuckled. There was some scattered laughter from elsewhere in the shop. "Damn, nigga, you need to pick up on some goddamn hints," Dwayne said, loud enough that everyone could hear. They all laughed. Dwayne stood up and took his apron off. Then he spoke as though making a grand announcement, "I would like you to suck my cock now, in the back room. Damn... I try to be discrete and shit, fuck!" He stalked off towards the backroom before even waiting for Walter to agree.
Laughter filled the shop. Walter blushed, but followed Dwayne, entranced by the swaggerous lean to his step. Dwayne shook his head -- it seemed he would have preferred to not make a scene about this, but now everyone was watching him go back there.
As soon as he shut the door behind himself, Dwayne frowned at Walter. "You gonna eat my nut, right? I don't like it when bitches spit it out. That's disrespec'ful."
"I would never spit it out," Walter said. He opened his mouth and ran his tongue over his lips, which made Dwayne shudder in anticipation.
"Good. Git on your knees, bitch," he said with a leer. "Get busy."
Walter did so. He could hear laughter out in the main part of the shop -- it sounded like they were teasing Dwayne, presumably thinking their words would carry. But all Walter heard was a jumble of laughter and murmuring.
As Walter had suspected would happen, Dwayne didn't drop his pants. He just let his cock flop out the fly of his sagging jeans. A lot of gangstas didn't take their clothes off for a man (and not even for most women) so that they could still run away if they needed to -- or so they said, Walter had long suspected a lot of them were embarrassed of their chicken legs, since they only ever worked out their glamour muscles.
The tip of Dwayne's cock pulsated in Walter's mouth. Walter knew exactly how to get Dwayne to fuck the way Walter wanted to fuck, and he started by just sucking on the tip -- frustrating him by not deep-throating would get Dwayne excited about fucking Walter's throat. He gripped Dwayne's thighs through his jeans.
Gradually, Dwayne began flexing his hips to hump Walter's mouth. "Come on, nigga, suck on it, don't just play wit' it," Dwayne said over and over. At last he got the hint that he would need to fuck Walter's throat -- exactly what Walter wanted all along.
That was what it took for his cock to stiffen up the rest of the way, until it was an iron rod jamming right down his throat. Walter choked up a mountain of spit that dripped down Dwayne's shaft -- he knew from personal experience that thugs like Dwayne enjoyed lots of spit and gagging. They liked to know that sucking their cock was difficult.
And it was difficult -- it was also sexy and delicious and Walter loved every bit of it, but it did have a sour, sweaty flavor, and it made him gag every time Dwayne daggered himself into Walter's throat.
His phone rang. Dwayne wrinkled his nose, annoyed, and he almost didn't answer it. After a few rings, however, he did. "Yo, what?" He sounded angry at being interrupted.
Walter heard laughter again from the main part of the shop, braying guffaws of embarrassment being covered up with cockiness. Someone from the shop was calling Dwayne, he realized, though he couldn't hear the voice.
"Yeah, nigga. You know what I'm doin'. Shut the fuck up. I know you done it too, nigga. Don't you lie to me! Last Christmas, motherfucker, at yo' momma's party. That Latin gayboy took you in- Don't gimme that shit, you ain't just smoke a bowl wit' him. You ain't in the habit of smokin' bowls with strange queers, nigga, and you told me right afterward he sucked yo' balls dry."
Everyone in the barbershop cheered. Walter was distracted by the powerful flavor of precum coating his tongue, but he got the impression the phone in the shop was on speaker, so everyone heard what Dwayne said. The person who dialed must have been embarrassed. Whoever it was -- maybe Roc, Walter guessed from the voice -- then said something else, something more serious.
"Don't you be talkin' 'bout that shit on speakerphone, nigga," Dwayne said. "If you want somethin', you know what corner to holla at." Then he hung up the phone without waiting for another reply. He scoffed and clicked his tongue against his teeth. "Fuckin' foolish-ass niggas..."
He moaned then, and grabbed Walter's head so he could hump it more effectively. His whole body spasmed as he reached orgasm, his balls pulsating where they rested against Walter's chin.
Oh damn, I hear that shit, nigga be done now! You tastin' that nut, huh?
A burst of creamy cum wrapped around Walter's tongue, as he savored every drop of juice dripping down his gullet. Dwayne's muscles flexed all at once, and he grunted loud enough that the men in the other room cheered.
"Ah, damn," Dwayne muttered. He pulled his pants up, speaking loud to be heard over the cheers. "You suck like a fuckin' champion, nigga." Then he eyed Walter suspiciously. "Sorry, I gonna tell them you ain't that good. I gonna say you pretty good for a faggot." He looked genuinely apologetic for a moment.
"That's okay," Walter said as Dwayne walked towards the door. He wiped cum off his chin, his eyes drawn to Dwayne's plump ass in his sagging jeans and revealed boxers. Walter made a kissy-face at Dwayne before he walked out the door. "I plan on proving myself to every single nigga in that room."
CHAPTER TWO
Floppy String
"Nah, nigga,
girls ain't into muscles like that," said Reggie, sounded like he was too cool to give a shit even if he was sharing his opinion.
Naluke burst out into cocky laughter. He sneered at Reggie, his stepfather, and scoffed. "You don't know whatchoo talkin' 'bout, old man."
Reggie looked at Walter, who was cutting Naluke's hair. Walter was about to take Reggie's side -- that's who was paying, after all, and giving a tip, or so Walter assumed (hoped). Before Walter could say it though, Naluke interrupted him.
"That queer? He don't know shit about girls, pops."
Everyone in the shop oohed as though a fight was going to break out. They began loudly debating how attracted girls were to muscular men.
"I betcha he know mo' than you," Reggie said, laughing at his stepson. "Most queers know a lot about girls. How many pussies you ever touch, gayboy?"
Walter blushed. "Uh... Well, like... eleven, maybe twelve."
Reggie laughed even harder, and Naluke flared his nostrils; he avoided his stepfather's gaze. Naluke wasn't ugly, but he was hardly handsome either. Walter wasn't surprised he had trouble getting girls. He didn't have enough charm to make up for his rather rough face either. Walter thought he was sexy, not least because he dripped with machismo and had a burly body no eighteen-year-old should have; Walter didn't mind that hawkish, overly angular face -- he looked like he was supposed to have a chiseled, Hollywood-handsome jaw, but the chiseler had been drunk. He was a football star, about to go back to college.
"You shoulda heard this nigga talkin' befo' he went to college, man," Reggie said, addressing the whole shop as Naluke tried to stop him. "He be sayin', 'oh, Pops, the girls around here is sloppy, and they's uptight and shit. You just wait till I get to college. Them white girls gonna fall all over my shit.' And-"
"I ain't say that!" Naluke said, but he sounded defensive, as though he had said something very similar. The whole shop was laughing at him now.
"Yo, you ever fuck a girl in the ass? You still a virgin as far as I'm concerned, if you ain't nevuh tap any ass. Pussy's nice, but you ain't a man unless you got a girl givin' up that ass."
"That ain't right," Naluke said, still sounding defensive -- it was obvious the answer was no, he had never fucked a girl in the ass. "You ain't gotta fuck some ass-"
"Betcha can't do it, nigga," Reggie said. He wrapped one wiry arm around Walter and said, "Lemme see you fuck this gayboy. Huh? You ever fuck around on the downlow, boy?"
"I don't do that shit! I get girls!"
"You ain't got shit for girls. You ain't got game, nigga," Reggie said. He got up and went towards the back before either Walter or Naluke had agreed; it seemed he simply assumed they would both go along with his plan.
The haircut was over by then, and Walter was excited to follow Reggie to the backroom. Naluke didn't follow at first, but after the others all taunted him for a few more moments, he got up and sauntered in as though he had always meant to do so.(Yeah, nigga, you gonna see what ass is like, yuh!)It sounded rather like the other barbers were trying to make Naluke as uncomfortable and tense as possible, so that he wouldn't be able to get hard and they could all make fun of him for it.
Walter rather liked the older daddy-types, like Reggie, so he was excited to see his lean body -- he pulled his t-shirt over his head as he leaned against one of the storeroom walls. He smiled cockily at his stepson and pulled his dick out of the fly of his jeans.
"Let's see ya meat, Naluke," Reggie said as though he knew it wasn't going to be that big.
Naluke winced. He was a big boy -- not fat by any means, but he had a bit of pudge and plenty of mass. He unceremoniously dropped his pants to his ankles, revealing a fat prick, not outrageously small but substantially shorter than Reggie's slab of meat.
"Bring it in, nigga. This is called a spitroast," Reggie said with a smirk. Walter sunk to all fours in front of Reggie, sticking his ass in the air for Naluke -- he hadn't taken his pants off yet, as he wanted to make Naluke work a little for it.
Yo, you fuck that nigga yet, Naluke? Huh? I ain't hear him beggin' fo' mo' yet.
That's cuz he ain't a white college girl, man, you just don't know.
Reggie was already getting hard even before his cock pushed into Walter's mouth. He must have been horny, Walter thought, as he tasted the man's distinctive funk. He moaned as the exquisite taste dripped down his throat. Reggie kept his focus on his stepson, however, as though he barely noticed his own blowjob.
The sound of Walter moaning made Reggie chuckle like a cocky prick. "See, Naluke? When you's a real nigga, faggots get off on the taste of yo' meat. You ain't nevuh gonna get that good, cuz you ain't got game."
"Shut the fuck up, Reggie!"
Despite his bravado, it was apparent that Naluke had no experience with anal sex.(He in there yet, Reggie?)He nervously pulled down Walter's pants and underwear to reveal his bare ass, but then sucked in his teeth as though he was expecting to see a vagina. He nervously wedged his limp dick between Walter's cheeks.
"Get hard, nigga, what's wrong wit' you?" Then Reggie called out to the front of the shop, "Nah, he ain't in yet. He playin' around some first. Flopping rope and shit... Mo' like floppin' string though."
Naluke muttered to himself. He was plainly embarrassed, by both his stepfather and the torrent of laughter from the shop. Walter was worried he might decide to give up. He could save face by claiming he couldn't get hard with a man and the smell of his stepfather's precum filling up the backroom. Walter squeezed his asscheeks around Naluke's shaft, then reached behind himself and gave it a few strokes. It perked up in his hands.
Flop that string, nigga!
His coordination ended then as Reggie began fucking his throat more violently -- showing off, Walter guessed, to his stepson, who watched with horror as though he had no idea blowjobs could be so violent. Walter gagged and choked on Reggie's cock, opening his mouth as wide as he could. His hands flailed around behind himself, but it seemed Naluke no longer needed help. He breathed a sigh of relief as he got his dick hard enough to plunge deep into Walter's ass.
"Oh damn, he in there now! He did it! I admit, I wuz wrong," Reggie said, cackling as he slapped hands with Naluke. "He got his meat goin' and he tappin' that ass now."
It took only a few thrusts of his hips for Naluke to get the hang of it. He laughed cockily as though he had never struggled to get hard, and grabbed ahold of Walter's hair. He held on, pulling Walter's head back even as Reggie kept a tight grip on it, forcing him to stay still. Walter didn't mind at all, being pulled in two directions made this session even hotter for him.
The pain grew stronger as Naluke fucked with greater and greater intensity. He slammed his dick in with increasing confidence, and even bragged about it when Walter winced with agony.This queerboy gonna start cryin' and shit!That was a major exaggeration -- Walter was nowhere's near crying, but he liked hearing Naluke's bravado so he emphasized his pain the best he could.
I's surprised he still got juice left in those nuts, what with all them white girls beggin' fo' it.
Yo, my brother went to campus and said Naluke been banned from every sorority on account of actin' like a cockhead to all the girls. He ain't allowed in any party where the girls show up.
"That ain't true!" Naluke shouted vociferously. "It was two sororities, and they both full of stuck-up bitches. It don't hardly matter." But none of them were really listening; they laughed at each other -- Walter suspected one of them was doing an imitation of Naluke's heavy-bodied walk and his clearly forced pimp-lean.
It was Naluke who came first, even though he got started quite a bit later. He roared and pumped his biceps as his balls crawled up in his sac. Walter could feel it in his ass just moments before the first wad of cum hit his inside.
That was followed by a flood of hot semen invading Reggie's ass. He moaned and writhed around Reggie's cock, which still pulsated in Walter's throat. Naluke grunted so loud the men in the front room applauded again.
"What'd that take you, like a mi
nute? No wonder no girls want you, nigga," Reggie scoffed. He didn't wait for Naluke to be done before pulling out of Walter's mouth and moving behind him.
Yo that was Naluke?
Took like three minutes, nigga. You sure you ain't gay? Should be a little tough to nut in a male, nigga.
Much to Walter's shock, Reggie didn't get Naluke to pull out first either. Naluke stood still, ignoring the taunting as he drained the last of his nut into Walter's ass. Reggie chuckled as he mounted Naluke from behind.
At first Walter thought Reggie was going to shove his cock in Naluke's plump ass, which would have been utterly shocking. Instead he -- in an apparent bid to make Naluke uncomfortable -- attempted to double-penetrate Walter's ass. There was no way Walter would open up enough to even let him get started, but Reggie only really wanted to get behind Naluke and make it feel like he was about get fucked.
Naluke yelped and startled, but didn't move away -- with Reggie right behind him, there was nothing he could do but submit. Reggie slapped Naluke's asscheeks and yee-hawed at their jiggling.
"Naluke be about ready to take mah shit," Reggie called out, causing another torrent of laughter.
But at last Naluke was done, despite Reggie's distractions, and he did pull out. Reggie caressed his bare asscheeks, laughing when Naluke finally realized what was happening and darted away. He had to climb over Walter's body, meaning his sweaty balls dragged over Walter's back as he went.
Reggie wasted no time in plunging his cock in. There was a splashing sound, as Naluke's cum dripped down between Walter's legs.
"Yo, that nigga tell he don't gangbang girls cuz he ain't into sloppy seconds," Reggie said. "You think he right? Or is that just an excuse, gayboy? Cuz I seen a lotta niggas say they ain't want sloppy seconds, no how, no way, but when they got a hardon and the only hole around is dripping wit' nut, I ain't seen a one say no."
Walter was too entranced by his own orgasm, as he shot cum through his fingers and onto the ground, to answer Reggie's question. It didn't seem that Reggie was really expecting an answer anyway, and Walter certainly didn't have any way of knowing how straight gangbangs typically went.
Blatino Str8 Trade: Alpha Thugs Downlow (Ultimate Str8 Trade Book 1) Page 5
