Highway Hustle

by Roland Graeme

  Compiling my guest list, I first chose Donny, of course. The big-dicked farmer was born to be the guest of honor at a gay gangbang!

  I also invited Beau. I’d been pissed off at him, for being such a blabbermouth, telling Donny about our sexual relationship. But I got over that. After all, if it hadn’t been for Beau’s loose lips, I might never have hooked up with Donny. So for all practical purposes, I was actually in Beau’s debt.

  I added Jake and Alonzo to my list. Jake was another local farmer, and Alonzo was a sexy, dark-skinned Hispanic man who owned a grocery store in town. Both men were married, and on the down low. After accepting my invitation, they told their wives that this was just going to be a harmless “boys’ night out.” We’d drink and play cards, they claimed. But with that nice, hardworking boy Jason hosting the get-together, they couldn’t get in too much trouble! The unsuspecting wives were worried that, if we gambled for money, their men might lose too much cash. Little did they know that it wasn’t their husbands’ wallets I was interested in. No, I wanted what they had packed away, inside the crotches of their pants! I’d had that marital meat before, and I was determined to have it again.

  Next, I contacted a friend of mine named Brant, who worked as a bouncer at the roadhouse which I’d mentioned to Mirco. Luckily, Brant had that night off, and he agreed to come. I was glad. Brant was a pumped up, pierced, tattooed, and hulking, glowering bodybuilder type, rather intimidating, whom I suspected of using steroids to build up his physique. His impressive size and his threatening appearance made him well suited to his job at the roadhouse, of course. But I knew from personal experience that the muscle-bound giant could be a real pussycat, in bed.

  Finally, I thought to include another local farmer with whom I’d often hooked up. His name was Eli, and he was an Amishman, no less. Still under thirty years of age, he had a wife and no fewer than six children. The guy was a breeder, all right!

  Sowing his seed so generously into his wife’s furrow didn’t prevent him from enjoying same-sex romps, on the down low. Whenever he was with me, the guy quickly shed his religious scruples, and he turned into a real sex pig!

  Like many of the Amish, Eli considered making use of public power to be excessively worldly. He did, however, use a diesel generator on his farm, to provide limited electricity, mostly for refrigeration.

  But cell phones—indeed, telephones of any kind, including landlines—were strictly forbidden. So I had to drive out to his place and extend my invitation to him discreetly, in person. Under the pretense of buying a peck of potatoes from him, I told him about the party, and he agreed to show up. Well, I could always use the potatoes, when I cooked for myself—!

  Eli couldn’t use card playing as an excuse, to explain his visit to my place. That was forbidden among the Amish, too. But, of course, a dutiful, submissive Amish wife didn’t ask her husband too many questions. Eli told her he was going to help me with some carpentry work which required two pairs of hands. This was plausible, because in fact I’d once come to Eli’s farm to do a similar favor for him. On the night of my party, Eli showed up promptly, along with the others. And, after all that heterosexual sex he’d been having in his prim and proper marital bed, the secretly bisexual guy was more than ready to suck some cock, to be sucked, to fuck another man up the ass, and to take one or more dicks up his ass, himself!

  Eli was a hot son of a bitch. He had a beard—married Amish men always grew one—and the hair on his head was clipped in this sort of a uniform blond mop, as though a bowl had been placed over his head, and his hair had been cut wherever it protruded under the edges of the bowl. On anybody else, the bushy facial hair and the crude haircut might have looked geeky, but on him they looked, inexplicably, good.

  We all lazed about in my living room, drinking and smoking pot. Evidently, Eli had decided that if he was going to sin, then he might as well go all the way. He enjoyed the booze and the weed along with the rest of us.

  I had the copy of the video which Vernon had given me stored on my laptop, so I gathered my guests around me so they could view it on the screen.

  “Damn, Jason,” Beau exclaimed. “How could you do it with a woman?” This remark elicited guffaws of laughter from the three married men in the room.

  “Pussy is still better than a hand job,” Jake said. “Even though a hot piece of man butt is better, yet!”

  Watching my debut as an amateur porn performer got everybody excited—including, if I may be so immodest as to admit it, me. After viewing my romp with Vernon and Faye, we all trooped upstairs to the “orgy room” I’d prepared. There, we got naked. There were seven of us, but none of us was a dwarf when it came to the dick department. The room seemed to be filled wall-to-wall with hard cock!

  Soon Jake was on his knees in front of Beau, and Alonzo imitated him, kneeling before Donny. Both married men were eager to suck some cock, and my two buddies were glad to oblige them.

  Brant stood there, playing with his penis, while he watched the cocksucking. Then Eli grabbed me and pulled me down onto the pushed-together mattresses with him.

  For the time being, I paid little or no attention to the sexual activity going on elsewhere in the room, while I concentrated on my hunky farmer.

  “This is like Sodom and Gomorrah,” he muttered, looking at the naked bodies all around us, the cocks penetrating hungry mouths, and Brant’s brawny tattooed arm pumping away as his fist whacked his huge, hard pecker.

  “Not quite,” I protested. “Anyway, when in Sodom—!”

  “Please, Jason, I wish to suck you,” Eli said. He was a polite, well-mannered man, who wouldn’t dream of assaulting another man orally without getting his permission, first.

  “Be my guest,” I invited him, in my most whorish tone of voice.

  He took my dick in his left hand and held it upright from my groin. Maintaining his grip on it, to steady it, he licked my glans, repeatedly, tickling it with his agile tongue, wetting it thoroughly with his saliva. I remembered him telling me, the first time we’d hooked up, that he hadn’t sucked that many dicks. He’d apologized in advance in case I was disappointed by his oral performance. But the guy had nothing to apologize for. He’d blown me on that occasion with a fervor which more than outweighed any clumsiness he’d displayed, and during our subsequent encounters, I’d generously given him many opportunities to practice cocksucking and refine his technique. That was me, all right, just a good neighbor!

  He locked his bearded lips around the bulbous tip of my dick. He sucked on just my cockhead for a moment, but then he took his hand away from my shaft. Slowly, provocatively, inch by inch, he curbed his mouth down around my hotly pulsating meat, until he had all of my beefy sausage stuffed between his lips, which pressed against the wreath of pubic hair encircling the base of my cock. Grunting, Eli began to demonstrate another skill which I’d helped him to master—the fine art of deep-throating!

  I placed my hands on his mop of bowl-cut blond hair and I pushed his head up and down on my prick, at the same time lifting my butt from the mattress we lay on to drive my manhood in and out of his succulent mouth and receptive throat. I set the pace that I wanted, fucking his face. Eli didn’t object or resist. Passively, he allowed me to use his mouth and throat for my pleasure. With no need for him actually to suck me at the moment, he busied himself by swabbing my pistoning cockshaft with his tongue, licking it from every angle he could inside his mouth. Lubricated by his freely flowing spit, my fuck tool hammered away between his lips.

  “Suck—my frigging cock—you horny, hot-mouthed—cocksucking—Amish stud!” I shouted, breaking up the demand with much-needed deep gasps for breath to refill my burning lungs. Not that Eli required any instructions. He was doing just fine, placing his mouth and throat and tongue at my complete disposal, letting me use him with callous, lust-driven abandon. While I fucked his face with such selfish glee, he began to masturbate, giving his dick a good stroking with his work-hardened left hand.

  (Eli was a leftie, by the wa
y. After the first time I’d noticed that, the next time I jerked off at home, in the privacy of my bed, I tried using my left hand, rather than my right. It was an interesting experiment. It felt different, although just as good, and the end result was the same—namely, an outpouring of spunk. After that, when it was a question of self-abuse, I was ambidextrous. But I digress.)

  I lay there and I enjoyed the hot blow job he was giving me. I took my hands off his bobbing head and I placed them on my chest. Narcissistically, I pressed my palms against my big, hard pectoral muscles, rubbing and squeezing them. I began to play with my stiffened nipples. I got quite aggressive and rough with myself, teasing and torturing my tits, pinching them, tugging on them, and even digging my fingernails into their hypersensitive flesh. Each pang of pain to which I subjected my nips seemed to send a corresponding throb of response through my cock, as it continued to jackhammer itself in and out of Eli’s wet, juicy mouth and throat.

  “Yeah, Jason, fuck his face!” I heard Brant urge me. The big, muscular dude was still doing a solo act, standing there jerking off, while he observed Eli going down on him. Even though Brant didn’t have a sex partner at the moment, he looked and sounded quite happy, making love to himself with his hand.

  Probably without intending to, Eli gave Brant something even better to watch.

  Eli pulled his mouth off my saliva-soaked dick. “Lie on top of me,” he begged, breathlessly. “Suck mine, too, while I suck yours. I want us to do that thing we did last time, you know, the sixty plus nine.” His tongue, unused to uttering gay slang, stumbled over the term sixty-nine.

  But I was more than willing to give him a refresher arithmetic lesson.

  “Shove your freaking dick in my mouth and right down my throat, fucker,” I told him. “Give me your goddamn cock!”

  After that, I fell silent, because my mouth was otherwise occupied.

  A moment later, we were sixty-nining like mad, our bodies locked tightly together in that classic position, our mouths sucking away on each other’s cocks like calves nursing hungrily on their mama cows’ teats. But it wasn’t sweet, nourishing milk which our slurping and suctioning physical exertion was trying to coax from our pricks. It was fresh cum, equally nourishing to a gay man—hot, salty, potent male fluid, tapped right from the seminal vesicles tucked away deep inside our loins!

  I clapped my hands over Eli’s big, muscular butt cheeks to hold him in place while my mouth fed on his dick. Oh, Jesus! That stud farmer had one hell of a nice, long, fat Amish sausage of a prick dangling from his groin! He was force-feeding that virile man meat to me, and I couldn’t get enough of it. Hungrily, I gorged my mouth and throat on Eli’s potent manhood, swallowing him, indeed even gagging on his bulk from time to time, but not giving a damn about my discomfort, so aroused was I. So eager and indeed desperate was I to suck and deep-throat his dick!

  While I blew him, one of my fingertips strayed into his anal cleft and tickled his sphincter.

  “That’s right, you horny bastards,” I heard Brant groan. “You motherfuckers! Oh, yeah, suck! Suck on those big, hot cocks! Suck them off!”

  That was just what I wanted to do.

  My hands continued to play with Eli’s ass, and then with his balls. His testicles were hanging down directly over my face, and as I looked up at them, worshipfully, I was seized by an uncontrollable impulse to take them inside my mouth. I held his scrotum on one of my hands and I guided his body down with the other, pushing against his butt. A deep, gurgling sound of lustful satisfaction came from Eli’s throat, vibrating against my cockshaft, when I began to slip his big balls between my lips. I tried to take both of them at once, but they were so large that almost half of just one of the blond-furred spheres skated over the outside of my lips. I had to stretch my lips wider open that usual, uncomfortably so, before I could fit both nuts inside my mouth.

  With my eyes wide open, I could look up and see his hairy asshole. While I washed his balls with my tongue, I began to get excited by the thought of sticking my tongue up his ass and tasting that part of his body, as well.

  I was so caught up in the sight, the feel, the smell, and the taste of Eli’s balls, and the tantalizing sight of his ass, that I was almost mindless, indifferent to the steady, rhythmic stroking of Eli’s tongue on my cock—although the lustful sensations were slowly building inside me and they was coaxing me nearer and nearer toward orgasm. Groaning, I let his balls slip out of my mouth, and I applied a stronger pressure from my hand to his ass, encouraging him to push his pucker back toward my face. With the prize now within easy reach, oddly enough I hesitated. His asshole was now within easy reach of my lips and my tongue, but even as I stared up at his sphincter, I wondered whether I should do it, whether I could rim him. During our previous sex sessions, we’d focused on fairly straightforward sucking and fucking. It wasn’t the thought of the ass licking itself which now gave me pause. No, rather I was worried about what such an obscene, unambiguously same-sex act might do to Eli’s surely deeply held and sincere religious beliefs. Having his ass sucked by a man whore was, I was sure, inimical to his sect’s creed!

  But my scruples were short-lived, as they usually were. I decided, what the fuck? Sex was sex, after all. This hot Amish dude was only too willing to sin with other men. So why shouldn’t I help him to sin?

  My fingers tightened their grip on his ass cheeks, and I spread them obscenely wide apart, baring his cleft to me. I pressed my tongue-tip against his asshole and I licked slowly and teasingly over his warm, quivering anal aperture. I could hear him groaning in his throat, and he began to suck my cock again, with more urgency and desperate need than before. I licked his shitter, making rapid circles around the outside of his sphincter, but also plunging my tongue through it and inserting it into the hot chasm of his ass. I began to rim him for real, fucking his asshole with my tongue!

  Eli grunted. He sounded surprised, disconcerted. And then, to my astonishment and delight, he took his mouth off my prick—and he plastered it against my sphincter pucker! Kissing my ass, he poked his tongue through my manhole and drove it deep inside me, swirling it around, licking my anus!

  He was doing to me what I was doing to him. We had our bodies jammed together in obscene intimacy, our legs pulled back, spread, and waving restlessly about, our feet flailing, toes curled. Our faces were buried in each other’s butts, our mouths were munching on each other’s anal puckers, our tongues were probing each other’s anal depths.

  “Shit! Shit!” Brant was yelling. “Yeah, suck those asses, dudes! Oh, suck ass!”

  I assumed that Brant was still masturbating, edging himself, deliberately delaying his orgasm, torturing himself, but in a way which was perversely blissful. What Jake and Beau, and Alonzo and Donny, might be doing at that moment, I didn’t know, and I didn’t care. All I was really aware of, all I could think about, was the lust raging through my body.

  Eli stopped rimming me, but only to resume sucking my cock.

  “In my mouth,” I heard him moan, before his lips once more closed around my shaft.

  He sucked me while I ate his ass. Long minutes passed. I was high—not on the alcohol or the pot I’d consumed, earlier. No, I was intoxicated by sex. Adrenaline and testosterone were surely running rampant through my body, driving me on to greater and greater levels of lustful indulgence. I couldn’t remember ever having been this hot, this desperate for sex, this frantic to ejaculate! To come! Oh, dear God! How badly I needed to come!

  My sex partner took his mouth off my dick long enough to spit insults at me.

  “Whore! English whore!” Eli shouted—English being the Amish term for anyone who wasn’t Amish, no matter what their exact ethnicity might be. “Sinner! Tempter! Spawn of Satan!”

  Well, I’d had sex partners hurl insults at me, in the heat of passion. I usually didn’t take it seriously, or personally. Still, spawn of Satan struck me as a bit much. I was an all too human whore, not a demon!

  I stopped sucking him just long enough to ans
wer.

  “Takes one to know one, dude,” I retorted, perhaps not too diplomatically. “Listen, Mister Holier Than Thou—instead of worrying about the speck in my eye, fucker, maybe you’d better be concerned about the big old beam shoved up your own ass!” I was paraphrasing a Biblical text, Matthew 7.5 to be exact, albeit none too accurately.

  “Godless,” Eli groaned. “You’re godless! But then, so am I. Straight to hell—we’re all going straight to hell.”

  The guy’s religiosity was threatening to become a deal breaker, a dick wilter. So I tried to distract him, and coax him back into a party mood.

  “Straight has nothing to do with it, buddy,” I suggested. “Come on. Quit being such a party pooper. Open that precious straight butthole of yours, man. Give it up! You know you want to.”

  With that, I went right back to work on him.

  Eli must’ve known what I was going to do to him, namely, that I was going to resume sucking his ass, because he abruptly surrendered to me. Recapturing my throbbing fuck tool between his lips, he resumed applying the tormenting yet delightful friction of his mouth on me. Even though the sperm pressure had slowly, gradually, and insistently built up inside me until it reached the boiling point, bringing me near the point of ejaculation, I applied a stronger pressure on his ass, so that he’d push it back down against my face.

  He’d just sucked my ass, tickling my hole wantonly with his tongue. Turnabout was fair play, and if he was willing to risk hellfire and damnation, why then, so was I!

  I once again got busy. I tongue-fucked the son of a bitch’s ass without mercy! I ate that ass like a starving man, as though it was going out of style!

  Shortly afterward, Eli and I both blew our wads. He swallowed mine. I blasted mine all over the fitted bedsheet on the mattress under us.

  I wasn’t given so much as a moment to catch my breath!

  Brant was tired of masturbating. He wanted anal! And he wasn’t shy about demanding it.

  “On your back!” Brant barked at me, as soon as I disentangled myself from Eli’s still-shuddering body. “Get your legs in the air! Put them up over my shoulders! I’m going to fuck you, Jason! Fuck your hole—!”