"You learn yo' lesson, boy?"
"Yes, Ribbon," Walter said. He handed back the jacket and hat as Ribbon got himself situated again.
"Good. I be back in one month, Lyle. You got one month, then I'm gonna take this debt outtayo' ass."
CHAPTER FIVE
The Jerkjob
Walter had almost forgotten about Naluke, the college football star whose stepfather had goaded him into fucking Walter. Walter had sort of suspected that the relentless teasing last time would keep Naluke from coming back. He hadn't been in since September, but he returned around Thanksgiving. Walter's blood started rising -- even though Naluke had suggested he would never swing downlow again, the way he walked as he re-entered the shop months later strongly implied to Walter that he had softened his views on that.
But he came in with a dozen of his friends, all of whom looked like football players to Walter. They must all be from the college, he realized, and since two of them had shaved heads, and one had long dreadlocks, he was pretty sure they weren't all there for haircuts.
Naluke did get a haircut, however, as did most of his friends. Walter's heart thumped in anticipation, but he steeled himself not to sound too anxious. He thought he might be able to get these young niggas to do something a little special.
They all carried themselves like cocky bastards, like jock-bullies in some cheesy movie, but they had a certain insecurity about it that made Walter reconsider who they were. He gathered that they were all linebackers and kickers, and he could sense that not a single one did well with the ladies. These were not handsome jocks with charming smiles; they were cocky athletes with mass to spare, too many muscles for women to like, and not enough dimples for most girls.
It was clear these were the losers of the football team. Walter had no problem with that at all -- he knew from personal experience that the handsome jocks would not allow Walter to suck them off, so these guys were his only option. Besides that, Walter loved rough, difficult guys, whose muscles jiggled as they stood up after their haircut; they had unkempt chest hair, scruffy beards and dirty fingernails, grass stains on their sagging jeans.
As the last of them finished up their haircuts, Walter could sense what they wanted. Naluke had bragged about Walter's services; they were all expecting a blowjob (atleast a blowjob). Walter continued arranging the items on his counter. He tallied up his tips for the day, ignoring the meaningful glances Naluke shared with his buddies.
The other barbers snickered.Just ask 'im, nigga. He won't bite. Prolly.Walter kept his back straight, face aimed away from Naluke, who shifted his weight on his feet as he cleared his throat. He was going to make Naluke word hard for this.
"Uh, hey..." He strained his memory to come up with a name. "Walter, right? Walter... you, uh.... My boys wanna get blowjobs. You do that, huh? A blowbang and shit?"
Walter turned around and frowned. "That's kind of a crappy way to ask, Naluke."
"I mean..."
"Yes," Walter said. "But... I have some conditions. You have to do it my way."
Yo, we ain't suckin' each other, nigga. Or you.
Yeah, we ain't down with faggot shit. We on the downlow, that's it. You gotta be on bottom.
Walter smiled. He walked towards the backroom. "I'll give you guys a blowbang, but you only if you're circlejerkin' while I do it." Then without waiting for a response, he went into the backroom.
After a moment of awkward silence, everyone except Naluke and his friends burst into laughter. They hooted and hollered, and when some of the jocks demurred, the barbers began catcallingchicken! You squeamish-ass nigga! In the end, Naluke and every single one of his buddies did it.
They all hung their heads as though walking to their own execution. Walter was already on his knees in the middle of the room, smiling broadly when he saw them enter. Trying to seem cocky, they each grabbed their cocks and leered at him. They sucked their teeth as though this was a chore Walter was forcing upon them instead of a choice they made. They formed a circle the best they could, though the backroom wasn't really quite big enough, so it was a sort of a bulgy oval.
Their cocks flopped out of their pants. They all laughed and closed their eyes as though they had never seen each other naked. Naluke blushed deeply, so he was nearly cranberry-red.
"Come on, boys, don't tell me you never showered together?"
"That's different. Totally different."
"Well, let's break the ice. Everyone whack your cocks together," Walter said. The last few sounds were drowned out by hooting as they all loudly, vociferously refused -- despite that, nobody backed out and they all did as they were told. Even as they saidno, this shit is too fuckin' gay for me, nigga! they all did it anyway.
Walter stroked himself off as he watched. As he had suspected would happen, once they started thwacking each other with their cocks, their anxiety diminished. They each wanted to outdo the other with how hard they slam their meat against each other's.
Ah shit, nigga that hurt!
Gonna leave a bruise wit' this one, motherfucker, might knock yo' dick right off!
"You boys want a blowjob?" Walter asked. Most of them couldn't hear because of their horseplay, but Naluke and some others were right in front of Walter. They were already half-hard, either from excitement or nervousness or both. They enthusiastically nodded and advanced as though it was their turn. But Walter stopped them. "Nah," he said. "I'll suck you off if you circlejerk, remember? You boys ever do that? In the locker room after practice?"
"No!" Naluke shouted, and the others all agreed. Walter was disappointed -- he really wanted to imagine them circlejerking every day, though he had always known that was unlikely. The others continued to echo Naluke's refusal even as they continued to hit each other's cocks with their own.
It was Naluke, however, who first touched his buddy's dick with his hand. His buddy was a tall, broad-shouldered tight end with a small belly and a big tattoo of a crucifix over his chest. He winced as though it was painful, and looked away with a nervous grin on his face, like he couldn't bear to see Naluke's masculine hand haltingly stroke him.
Once one person did it, the others gradually lost their inhibitions. No one had really wanted to go first, but no one wanted to be left behind either. Most of them remained limp, or grew only slightly hard, since none of them knew how to give a good handjob, and they were all too nervous to focus anyway.
Yo, nigga, yo' dick feel like string cheese...
Why's it all greasy and shit?
Since Naluke went first, Walter went for his cock first. He didn't want to stop the circlejerk, so he just kissed it right on the tip, that way the man to his left could keep stroking the root. Then he opened his mouth and encircled the entire cockshaft with his mouth.
Oh shit, he fo' real!
Naluke's cock stiffened up on his tongue. The teasing and nervous laughter dwindled as everyone watched with baited breath. Walter moaned loudly and lifted his ass up in the air, though he suspected that would be a step too far for these young bucks -- blowjobs were one thing, but there was no way these guys were ready for anal, Walter decided.
Don't forget about me, nigga!
Then Walter moved around the circle. He sucked on each cock in turn, just waiting until he got it fully hard before moving onto the next one. Soon enough he had every inch of that crowd rock-hard, pulsating, straining for more attention.
Ah shit, you got dat precum on my hand, nigga!
Fuckin' precum!
"Now boys," Walter said once he went around the circle. "We gotta save time, okay? There's a lotta you. So you need to cum two at a time. You think you boys can handle it?"
There were a few murmured yeses, and a few nos, but it didn't sound like anyone was really listening that closely. They were focused on not gagging from the feel of their nigga's precum running down their wrists. That suited Walter just fine, since it meant they had agreed to it without giving it a lot of thought.
Smells like a fuckin' prostitute in here, man!
>
"Gonna cum now, nigga," said the one dreadlocked man, with a faint Jamaican accent. He gasped as Walter scurried over to him. Walter grabbed his cock, as well as the cock of the man to his right. He shoved them both in his mouth so that the dreadlocked man's load sprayed all over Walter's tongue and the second dick.
Fuckin' what?! You got nut on me, nigga! You got nut on me!
It was the batty boy's idea, yo', don't blame me.
Then Walter deep-throated, using the first man's Jamaican cum as lube. The second one, a cruel-looking thug with a scarred face, blanched and winced as the others teased him. He closed his eyes.
How dat nut feel on yo' hands, nigga?
You feel dem sperms on ya?
But the deep-throating blowjob worked, and within a minute or two, his youthful virility had brought him to orgasm despite his discomfort. Another load of hot cum sprayed down his throat.
After that, they shot one after another. They were obviously uncomfortable with mixing their nuts, but no one actually complained -- no one wanted to be blueballed or look like they weren't able to finish.
Shit you got yer nut on me!
Walter kept on insisting he suck two at a time. Of course they were all too girthful to really deep-throat like that, so Walter teased them each with a throating as he stroked two cocks together with one hand. More than once, someone's orgasm stopped just before it began because a sudden burst of someone's cum made him anxious and grossed out.
You in'errupted me, nigga! Should beat yo' fuckin' ass!
Just try it, motherfucker.
In the end, Walter was coated in cum, and it dripped off his face. He took that last club-like prick and wiped his face off with it, giggling as the burly macho jock winced in both embarrassment and disgust, not to mention the awkward sensitivity of his post-orgasmic cock. Walter used it like a sponge to soak up all the cum that had spilled over his face, then he sucked the remnants off that hoggish prick, which was limp and spongy but still warm and salty. Walter licked every drop off and then nuzzled the man's nuts until he was done.
"Alright, niggas, let's get outta here." They finished putting their clothes back on in awkward silence.
Naluke cleared his throat. "Remember, folks, what happens in the City Barbershop, stays in the City Barbershop. Once we walk out that door, we ain't nevuh gonna speak of this again."
CHAPTER SIX
Christian Now
Walter should have known something was up, because Lyle never asked him to stay late. And there was no reason to ask Walter to stay late to move some boxes -- Walter was the smallest and weakest of the barbers, indisputably. But Lyle was a good actor, so Walter didn't notice; Lyle was the boss, and it felt natural for him to ask Walter to stay a little late. He agreed to help out as everyone else locked the front door and went home for the day.
It was only then that Walter looked at the boxes and realized Lyle's request didn't make sense. He had two boxes to take down. They were heavy, but Lyle could have done them himself or gotten one of the bigger guys to do it during the day; it would have taken about thirty seconds.
"Hey, I paid off Ribbon today," Lyle said as they finished. He bit his lip. "I wanted to say thank you for helpin' out with that."
"Oh, I mean... no problem," Walter said, stammering as he became intimately aware of Lyle's bulky arms and thick mustache right in front of his body. He could feel Lyle's body heat emanating off him. "It was fun. I mean, not really fun, but... It was-"
"Yeah, I get it," Lyle said, blushing. He alone wasn't entirely comfortable with gay sex -- he was pretty religious, and Walter had a feeling he was anti-gay in his heart, he just didn't express it very often. Given the reputation of his store, it would have been bad for business to be openly homophobic. He bit his lip again. "I mean... You know, I ain't really down wit', you know, all that you do, and shit... But I know you gotta, like... be down and shit, and-"
"I'm sorry, I have no idea what you're saying."
"I'll fuck you! If you want... I mean... I know you are, uh, into me and shit. You look at me like a piece of meat," He kicked at his feet. "You can't tell the others. They think I hate that shit-"
"Are you serious?"
"I know you're into me. It's okay, whatever-" Despite his words, it was clear it wasn't reallyokay with Lyle. "A lotta gay guys are. I's a daddy-bear and shit-"
Walter burst into laughter at the phrasedaddy-bear, which seemed incongruous coming from Lyle's mouth. Lyle blanched and looked away.
"Man, nigga... I know I said that right, that's what that other faggot who used to work here said... I mean...homosexualwho used to work here," he said. He put his hands on his hips. "Iam a daddy-bear." He said, causing Walter to again break out in peals of laughter.
"Yeah, yeah," Walter said, "You is a daddy-bear, you're right. I was just surprised you know that word."
"I ain't into daddy-bears, or what's that other one? Like you are? Twinks, right? You's a twink."
"Now you just tryin' to make me laugh," Walter said, trying to stop laughing -- he did really want to get fucked by Lyle, but hearing him throw around gay terminology just made Walter laugh too much. "Stop talkin' about that shit... I am a twink though, you got that right."
"So do you wanna fuck or not? Cuz I'd just as soon-"
"Hell yeah, I do," Walter said.
He made a sour face and quickly stripped off his shirt. He had a big hairy chest. He was about to take off his pants, then stopped and looked at Walter. "You prolly want some foreplay or some shit? You wanna kiss?"
Walter didn't answer at first -- he rather did want to kiss, but he didn't really want to make Lyle uncomfortable. He didn't mind skipping the kiss.
Lyle shrugged and kissed him right on the lips. It was a dry, passionless kiss. "I ain't used to be anti-downlow, and shit, I was in lockup for five years. I did some kissin'; I had a boyfriend. I's just Christian now, so I don't do it. And I got a woman," he said. "But God'll forgive me."
Since Lyle was much taller than Walter, Walter had to get him to lean down to kiss. He did, and his lips were full and succulent, but Walter wanted to get a better angle. So he grinned and jumped right on Lyle's big barrel-chested body. Lyle grunted but held on.
Walter was ensconced in his arms, and kissed him again, this time trading tongue. Lyle's kiss was not listless; he was a better kisser than some actual gay men. When Walter licked his scruffy cheek on his way down to Lyle's neck, Lyle winced, but then moaned a little as though aroused.
Stripping off his shirt so he could better feel the corded muscle and thick padding of Lyle's biceps, Walter wondered how far he could take this. He used Lyle's hips as leverage to drop his pants and underwear.
That meant Walter's bare cock pressed against the meat of Lyle's hairy belly. Lyle looked one part horrified, one part amused and two parts horny. His body was stiff as Walter kissed him again. He ground his cock on Lyle's bare chest.
"Alright, that's enough," Lyle said when the first drops of precum smeared over his hairy chest. His mouth, cheeks and mustache were moist from Walter's kisses as he gently lowered Walter to the ground.
Immediately sinking to his knees, Walter inhaled deeply of the scent of Lyle's crotch through his brown slacks, then dropped them. He wore old-fashioned tighty-whiteys, which made Walter laugh again.
"Shut up, nigga," Lyle muttered. He dropped his own underwear to reveal a massive dark brown cock, gleaming with sweat and even a bit of precum -- he had gotten hard, it seemed, despite his discomfort. Veins throbbed, begging Walter to suck it.
He started by licking the thickest vein from root to tip, smacking his lips when he got to the end. He put the tip in his mouth and suckled loudly, making the entire shaft jerk to full attention. Lyle's muscles jerked too, as though he hadn't thought Walter would actually go through with it.
"Hot damn, nigga..." Lyle said. "You ain't playin', is you, nigga?"
Walter just started sucking, figuring that would be all the answer Lyle needed. He deep-throated that
massive meat the best he could -- which was only the first third or so of the shaft, it was just too thick to do more.
"Mah dick's too big fo' blowjobs," he said with a mixture of embarrassment and pride. "Lemme in ya gut."
Walter didn't need to be told twice. He stood and turned around, baring his asshole. Lyle had to lower himself to aim his dick at Walter's ass, so he bent his knees and held onto Walter's back for support.
Licks of pain erupted in his backside, but Walter's mind was overwhelmed by the buzzing bliss emanating from his asshole. His prostate orgasm began building as soon as Lyle's dick slid in there.
Despite his outrageous girth, Walter did manage to take his entire cock in. He strained and bit his lip, took a deep breath as he relaxed enough for the rest of Lyle's dick to squeeze in.
Lyle seemed to want to lean forward so that his body pressed against Walter's back, but every time he did so, he winced and moved back as though he was trying to resist the urge -- he didn't want to touch any more of Walter's body than he absolutely had to. His hands fluttered, very gingerly guiding Walter's shoulders even though it was clear he wanted to grip Walter more tightly.
"Damn, nigga, you take dick good..."
His hips pounded, balls swinging between his legs. Walter could feel their pendulous weight beneath himself as Lyle fucked harder and harder with each thrust. He cared less and less about touching Walter too, and soon he had both his big, callused hands keeping Walter in perfect fucking position.
Hyperventilating, Walter lifted his head. Lyle leaned over him then, and this time, he kissed Walter's strained, sweaty face. "You damn good, boy. Fuckin'... You takin' all my shit, every last inch. Not many women ever do that." He kissed Walter again. "Go'n and jack off, nigga. I like cumming inside a nigga right when he cums, when he squeeze all up on on my shit..."
Blatino Str8 Trade: Alpha Thugs Downlow (Ultimate Str8 Trade Book 1) Page 7
