Prison Meat

The wailing sound of a police siren shocked Joe out of a deep sleep and he slammed his head against the cab roof. As his veins rushed with adrenaline his brain was zigzagging between his options. Joe franticly searched the dark sleeper compartment looking for a clue as to what was happening; finally he focused on the light creeping in around the drawn curtain.

Slowly he peeked out and saw a sea of cars surrounding the truck. 'Damn, we're in a mall parking lot...where in the hell did Travis and Tom go?'

Joe saw a note taped to the steering wheel:

'Hey guy! You were sleeping like a bear in hibernation so I didn't want to rouse you, decided to leave a note just in case you woke before we got back. Bringing breakfast and some new duds, see you in a little bit. Travis'

The sound of the siren was fading away in the distance and he sighed with relief; he wondered if he would forever feel panicky hearing a siren. His stomach ached and rumbled. 'Bringing breakfast!' he mumbled Travis' words, 'best damn news I'm gonna hear today!' He tried to massage away the knots forming in his abdomen. 'Just hang in there, help is on the way!'

Both door locks popped up startling Joe; he peeked out the curtain, saw Tom's smiling face in the driver's side window. He pulled the curtain back just as Travis opened his door and handed him a McDonalds's sack.

'Oh God this smells so good!' Joe fished his hand in bag and retrieved a bacon, cheese and egg sandwich. Ravenously he took a big bit; his bright eyes caught the smiling faces of Tom and Travis.

Tom said. 'Told ya the boy would like breakfast rather than burger and fries...Joe, it's almost noon and the bitchy little gal behind the counter said, 'Stop serving breakfast at 11:00...'

Travis slapped his thigh and laughed. 'You should have seen it! Tom just about scared the girl to death...told her to hustle up two egg sandwiches pronto!'

Tom just grinned and decided not to tell them the particulars of how the late breakfast order was filled. But if it hadn't been for the young man working the grill his order would never have been filled. He had black spiked hair, multi-silver rings on his ears, nose and eyebrows, the Goth look. Tom suspected the skinny short order cook was gay so he winked at him, and that was all it took. The Goth boy filled the order in record time and came around to the counter and personally delivers it. Tom thanked him and slipped him a couple of bucks when they shook hands.

While Joe devoured his breakfast and finished his super-size cup of milk, he watched Tom remove tags from a pile of clothing: stone washed Levi's, red plaid shirt, Hanes low-rise white briefs, tube-shocks and white tank top. Dr. Martan black athletic shoes and a white Louisiana State University baseball cap lay on top of a red backpack.

Travis was flipping through his AAA Triptik. 'Best damn road maps in the world.' He handed it to Joe. 'I've highlighted your journey all the way to Golden Meadows, Louisiana. It's easy since you'll be dealing with highway 10 most of the way.'

Tom and Travis looked at the face of innocence; Joe had grownup under the watchful eyes of his grandfather, sheltering him from a world that he believed was rotten to the core. His first trip on his own outside the reservation proved to be disastrous for Joe. He simply hadn't developed any street smarts, no life experiences to draw back on. Joe's life expectancy outside the confines of prison walls was on borrowed time.

Tom took Joe's hand and held it tight while he explained things to Joe. 'Travis and I talked things over while you were asleep, and we have decided the best thing for you would be for us to take you under our wings...like adopting. We can't see how you could live a life on the lam, always on guard, never building trust in anybody and always on the move just one step ahead of the law.'

Travis spoke up. 'Joe, we want you to be part of our big-o extended family down in Golden Medows...The place has become a refuge for good people turned outlaw by the system. Like the never-ending parole violations, mushrooming until the parolee is facing a life sentence as a habitual criminal. We see that same scenario for you; they'll send everything out for a prison escapee, even use bounty hunters that'll track you like an animal. When you're caught, and that's a given if you're on your own, your security level is ratcheted up to maximum.'

Tom could see the terror in Joe's eyes. 'Joe, what we would like to do is give you a new life... new name and address, a new family history. I'm a Houma Indian and you're Apache, yet we look a lot alike, especially when seen through the eyes of white dudes like Travis.' They all laughed. 'How about John Joseph Thibodaus, and everyone calls you JJ. It's a real common name down in Terrebonne Bay, almost as popular as Boudreaux, my family name.'

Joe rolled the name around and said. 'John Joseph Thibodaus, a.k.a., JJ! Yeah, I can get into that name, but doesn't it sound sort of Cajun/French?'

Travis jumped in. 'That's a bit of a sore point for the Houma Indian Nation. The Bureau of Indian Affairs has built its case on that very point. They claim that the Houma Indians are so homogenized and diluted that they are no longer a distinctive tribe. They want to lump them in with Cherokees and Choctaw.'

'We gonna have to start taking a few Bureau scalps, they just dogging us man...' Joe's smiled mischievously. 'Tom, I got first dibs on Travis's golden locks.'

Tom's deep rumbling laugh chased away his somber mood. 'Right-on little brother! You know if our forefathers hadn't been so easygoing, more aggressive like the western tribes we would already have our homeland.'

The big rig slowed down and exited Interstate 40 onto state highway 58, traveling only a few miles before turning off on a single lane road. The setting sun had turned the desolate Mojave into a dreamscape of gold and amber, with streaks of pink and purple jetting across the desert sky.

You could see miles ahead in the flat barren landscape. In the distance a mirage of heat vapors rising from the road gave the illusion that the old ghost town was perched on a magic cloud. The setting sun painted the town gold as it reflected evening the sun, giving it an unreal quality.

A tall chain-link fence topped with razor wire surrounded the town. Tom stopped the truck at the gate and waited, two minutes later the gate began to open, the truck strained as it reached second gear and slowly cruised down the driveway stopping along side a ramshackle building covered in rusting tin.

Tom tooted the air horns and said. 'Welcome to Deadwood, California!'

Joe looked puzzled. 'Wow I must have slept a long time, would have never guessed we were in California.'

Travis handed Joe some clothes. 'You seem to be getting along just fine without, but just to be on the safe side you better put these on.' Travis watched the slim body slide into the Levi's with ease.

Tom watched the longing look in Travis' eyes. 'Bet you're reminiscing the days when you had a 29-inch waist like Joe's...better make that JJ, gonna take some extra effort to pin the new handle on the boy.'

Travis smiled. 'Yea ‘ya right Bro.' He turned to Joe. 'The old guy that owns this old ghost town is a real character...the last of his kind; adventurer, stunt actor, Vietnam Vet, occasion outlaw, and a sweet-dirty old man.' Travis looked out and saw a steely gray-haired man holding a huge Irish Wolfhound by the collar. 'Well, speaking of the devil, it's the wild man himself!'

Travis jumped from the cab and bear hugged the man. He dropped to his knees and rough housed the dog. 'Hi ya doing Duffy...love this big guy, yes I do!' The wolfhound was excited, his long tail trashed wildly; he made a deep roaring cry as he licked and nuzzled Travis' face.

'Hi ya doing...you must be Joe, the young man Tom told me about.' The old man stepped up on the running board and extended his hand to Joe. 'I'm Patrick O'Connor, but you can call me Pat.'

Joe looked into the green eyes of the tall wiry man and saw wisdom. Not book smart type, but the kind that comes through life's experiences, he saw a glimpse of his grandfather in Pat, that invisible quality that set him apart from most men; instantly he knew that he like Pat and could learn a lot from him.

'Hello Pat, very pleased to meet you...I really do like your place.' Joe swung his legs over and slid down to the seat. The dog was trying to climb into the cab; he whipped his tail, yowled mournfully and sniffed Joe's leg.

Pat took hold of the dog's collar and tried to pull him back. 'Now Duff you don't know Joe well enough to be sniffing his crotch.'

Tom reached over Joe and patted the wolfhound. 'It's alright Duff, if the boy won't let ya cop-a-sniff Ill just hold him down for ya.' Everyone laughed and Duff backed out of the cab somewhat calmer.

In the desert a few yards behind the old hotel was a large round pit, weathered rustic benches encircled an open fire. Seven men of various ages were drinking beer and passing a bong.

The stoned faces of the men looked up from the pit as Pat and guest looked on. Pat said. 'Hey fellows, I know you're to shitfaced for introductions now, but I'd like to point out our newest addition, Joe.'

Joe waved and said howdy, the men suddenly got excited yelling for Joe to join them. All the guys were dressed in clean workwear; the older bear-like men wore faded navy coveralls, while most of the buff younger men had on stonewashed denim bib overalls. They were all barefoot and shirtless, the muscles of their construction-worker bodies rippled in the firelight Some of the guys started to get randy, tenting out their overalls; others openly fondling their hard cocks through the unbuttoned sides of the bib overalls.

Tom put his arm around Pat. 'Don't let us distract ya from chores...looks like milking time is coming up with some of those boys.' They all laughed.

Pat's sparkling eyes reflected the firelight. 'It's all the time man! I just have my hands full tending to the needs of those bad-boys...I give and I give but they're never satisfied. I ask you, what's an old queen gonna do?' Pat groped Tom as they walk back to the hotel.

The rustic hotel was not a relic from California's gold and silver prospecting days but much more recent, built in the 1950s, as a movie set for a western film. The studio went broke and the movie mogul's picture became a forgotten page in tinsel town history, however, years later the set, constructed in mining-camp architectural style, was used for one important western picture, and followed by a string of mediocre moments in Hollywood cinema.

The bedroom on the top floor was completely unexpected; a converted movie set with two portable walls in the middle of a cavernous room. Burnt-copper carpeting and highly polished black pottery accented the Native American motif. The furniture consisted of several mattresses covered with colorful tailored bed linen, topped with assorted pillows and cushions. Large solid tops baskets served as tables and storage containers. Prominently positioned in the room was a glass enclosed walk-in shower, large enough to accommodate several people. Leftover trappings of a vintage porno set, now functioning as a guest room.

Joe was mesmerized; his eyes scanned the room unable to slow down and find a focal point. 'Wow! This has got to be the mother of all bedrooms! He sat on the carpet, legs folded, mouth open and gawked.

Travis emptied the shopping bags full Joe's new duds on one of the mattresses. 'We all need to hit the shower. I've got an accumulation of crud, I swear it smells like road kill!'

Tom reached in a small Indian pot and found his stash of joints. 'First things first. I been thinking about these little darlings for days.' He lit one, took a deep drag, held it in for a moment, he then coned his big hands around Travis' nose and mouth and exhaled; he did the same for Joe.

Travis' looked at Tom and fanned his flush face. 'What's the kicker?'

Tom exhaled. 'Nothing but Ty-Gold...with smidgen hashish!'

'Oh you are gonna do some serious Partying tonight.' Travis took the joint, passed it to Joe, and lit up another. 'Let's not loose track of time...Pat's preparing one of his bacchanals so we can't get wasted.'

Travis started showing Joe his new clothes and toiletries. 'Joe, let me explain the logic of your new threads. Firstly, we decided to roll back a year and make you seventeen again. Just turned so you don't have a driver's license if cops question you...a red nylon wallet, filled with family pictures, courtesy of Tom, and JJ's new ID card.'

Tom impatiently jumped in. 'Come on; get to the cool stuff...show Joe the rubbers.'

'I hope that's not a sign that you're getting testy.' Travis said. 'Firewater's not the only thing that makes my big man crazy.'

Tom blushed slightly and nodded to Travis. 'Point taken, Hollywood.'

Joe looked from one face to the other wondering if he had just witnessed a darker more unpleasant side of their personalities. 'You guys are still cool, right?'

Tom set cross-legged looking at the ceiling, gathering his thoughts before he spoke. 'Joe, there's only two people in the whole damn world that I'm in love with. My wife, Becky, she was my high school sweetheart has been by my side from the start.'

Tom smiled, looked at Travis and continued. 'And my soul buddy, Travis.

Joe, I was spinning out of control in Angola, and if it hadn't been for Travis I'd have killed somebody. Even today I get my sounding from Travis. Becky knows it and even encourages it; I'd say they have a better relationship than most lifelong friends do.'

Tom told Joe the entire story, his obsession with bare-knuckle fighting, traveling the countryside competing in roadhouse ring matches for the title 'Iron-Man.'. He took on all comers in a no-holes-barred fight, his sweet Becky always by his side, pleading with him to stop. It was in that high-charged atmosphere that he fought off three men in a parking lot, mangling two severely, and killing one man.

Travis held up a small black nylon bag. 'Joe, this is your shaving kit, basic toiletries and your rubbers.' He nodded at Tom and pulled out a string of foil wrapped condoms. 'These are Trojan Magnum...specially made for the super-sized studs, larger and stronger than the regular size. Remember; never leave home without your rubbers!' Travis hopped up grabbed the kit leaving the condoms on the bed. 'There's bathroom on the other side of that wall.' He pitched the kit to Joe.

The fixtures were all freestanding and open, like a department store featuring the bathroom of tomorrow. Joe sat on the toilet and watched his new friends as they brushed their teeth, each a prototype of masculine beauty, yet complete opposites. Travis' body was well suited to him, sculpted proportions of an athlete, smooth ivory skin stretched over rippling muscles. His prison tattoos looked like gaudy neon signs plastered on a beautiful marble statue. On his right shoulder was the word 'HOLLYWOOD' framed in a wavy border of movie projector film. A large abdomen tattoo was reflected in the mirror: 'Hoover Boy!' surreal, like a Salvador Dali drawing, the letters seemed to be sucked into a gapping mouth.

Tom was nothing short of a warrior; his chiseled body looked even more intimidating without clothes. The sheen of his raven black hair reflected a rainbow of pale light like oil on water. Tattooed across his broad shoulders in bold open face letters, 'OUTLAW' and on his chest was tattooed a black crow in full flight.

Joe flushed the toilet and like on cue Travis turned and said. 'Come on up here and squeeze in...don't be intimated by the hulk, he won't do ya nothing!' He laughs and lightly punches Tom on the shoulder. 'At lease not while he's brushing his teeth.'

They shower together in the large glass enclosure, jets of water swirled and pulsed as they soaped up their bodies with giant sponges dripping with liquid peppermint body wash. Joe washed his crotch with the soap and a tingling sensation started on his scrotum, he pulled back the foreskin and soaped up the sensitive head, fire raced through his cock and he turned to one of the pulsating water jets. Instantly he boned up, the pulsating water felt wonderful.

Joe felt the heat radiating from Tom's strong body; moments later two massive arms encircle him drawing him closer. A chill traveled down Joe's spine as he felt Tom's hard cock press against his back; seized with panic he tried to pull away.

'Hold on buddy, we're not going to do anything that you don't like.' Tom spoke softly in Joe's ear as his hands caressed his young body.

Travis jacked Joe's cock with both hands concentrating on the glans penis, lathering it with peppermint soap. 'Man you're packing some heavy artillery!'

Tom spun Joe around and pressed their cocks together; he gripped them and masturbated both at the same time. 'Joe your cock is almost as big as mine...' he took Joe's hand and wrapped it around both gigantic cocks. 'Feels good huh?'

The cocks fascinated Joe; but Tom's mesmerized him, he took note of the similarities and the differences, his was thicker, heavily veined, the foreskin was drawn back so tightly it looked like he had been circumcised, however, the biggest difference was the heat. Tom's cock felt hot to the touch.

'Whoa! What going on!' Joe had been occupied with Tom and didn't notice what Travis was doing until a soapy peppermint finger entered his ass.

Travis snorted with laughter. 'Just relax my friend and I promise it will start feeling good pretty soon...you're too tense, try to relax your muscles down there.'

'Relax hell! Just take your damn finger out!' Joe was fidgeting trying to get free from Tom's bear hug.

Joe's body froze in Tom's embrace; he caressed Joe's back and whispered softly in ear. 'Everything gonna be okay, just be cool while Travis does his thing.'

Suddenly everything was better than okay! Travis was tonguing his ass and it felt wonderful. Joe's cock was harder than a brick; he could feel the magma boiling up ready to erupt. Tom could feel Joe's body writhe from pleasure, a pleasure he knew so well, and master craftsman Travis was the sole exception to his off limit ass-policy.

Tom held Joe's shoulders and gently pushed him down to his knees, his rock hard dick left a snail trail of precum on Joe as Tom lowered him to the shower floor. Joe was dizzy from his new experiences; he wanted to freeze time while his mind sorted things out. Two cocks were angrily trying to probe his mouth; he felt Tom's big hand palm his head like a basketball firmly holding it while his dick coated Joe's lips with precum.

'Jack'em off Joe...make us cum.' Travis took Joe's hands and wrapped them around the cocks. He held them in place slowly forcing Joe to reluctantly masturbate them. He removed his hands and Joe continued, gripping harder and faster.

'Yeah stud, that's the way...now suck'em a little.' Tom released his grip on Joe's head and let him find his own pace. 'Now suck Travis.' Tom pulled out of his mouth and started pounding his meat faster.

As Joe sucked Travis, he was immediately confronted with a new feeling; he was really enjoying cocksucking. Travis' cock was completely different than Tom's giant tool; he could actually take all of it, right down to the cooper colored pubic hair. Another thing, it was pretty, all pink and white, like 'Hollywood.' He imagined how beautiful Travis must have been when he entered prison, before gangbangers marred his body with graffiti.

Tom pulled Joe away from Travis and shoved his cock in his mouth. 'Suck the head!' Joe fought to get the big head in his mouth. 'Suck harder and swallow my cum!' Tom pounded his meat faster; waves of heat pulsed in Joe's mouth.

Out of the corner of his eye Joe saw Travis' cock; the head was almost crimson as he pounded it vigorously in a viselike grip. Without warning, Travis exploded ropes of white jism splattering on Joe's face and dripped from his chin. Seconds later Tom unloaded a tidal wave of hot sperm, splattering on Joe's face and coating his close cropped hair. Tom continued to beat his meat while forcing his cock in Joe's mouth. A minute later another load was ejaculated into Joe's mouth causing him to gag.

Nobody bothered to dress, after the intimate shower, Tom fired up another joint, took a drag, and passed it over to Travis and Joe who were setting together surrounded by Joe's 'back to school clothes,' as Travis referred to them. They mellowed out as they continued to smoke.

Travis held a pair of hiking boots. 'Dr. Martens black Chukkas...good for hitchhiking and you stand a much better chance of not being killed for your footwear.'

Tom coughed out the word, 'Cheap!'

Travis' shot Tom the finger. 'No, price was not a factor, safety and quality was the main focal points. Guys who wear this brand aren't preppie types, more like bikers, skinheads or wannabe skins. They don't take shit from anybody. Try hitchhiking in a pair of high-end shoes like Air Jordan's. You wouldn't make it a mile before a van pulls alongside you and demands your shoes.'

Tom took another drag and passed it over, but not before he coughed another, 'Cheap!'

Travis flashed the finger and continued explaining the selection. 'Joe, if I can make your journey just a little bit safer by selecting the clothes that lets you blend in I feel that I've made a contribution. Two days from now you'll be on the road with hundreds of spring breakers.' Travis held out the white baseball cap. 'LSU fans will be out in great force and this cap identifies you as one of them, safe to pickup.'

Tom sighed. 'Buzzzz! Only one problem, Joe doesn't know what the hell a LSU is ...you know those tiger fans eat their young!'

'I'm pretty good at ad-libbing.' Joe said. 'One of the many things my grandfather taught me...he said it works well with little-white-lying, which he cautioned me to never bring hurt using it.'

'The wisdom passed down is the strongest kind.' Tom said. 'It's unfortunate for the Indian way of life that we don't have replacements for wise men, like your grandfather, to carry on the tradition of instructing our young men.'

Joe's mind raced with thoughts of his grandfather, how he had rebelled at his teachings, however, out of love and respect he obeyed his grandfather's every wish.

'You know it was my grandfather who told me what to expect in prison, and how to react to the challenges, not to join any gangs and don't get any tattoos, after prison they're a constant reminder to people that you were a convict.'

Travis stood up showing his Hollywood tat. 'Got this dilly during rush-week, my wooing period! I was so green that I thought these guys wanted to be friends, they kept saying I looked like a movie star, hence the tat.' Travis turned to show the tat on his abdomen. 'This little beauty was pay back, finally I wised up, and I was gonna be a punk in some gang. I told them I'd pass on joining any gang. After that they beat the holly crap out of me. I had my first hard cock shoved in my mouth nearly choking me to death, the bastard pulled out all but the head, big mistake on his part, I chomped down as hard as I could, nearly bit the head off. Well, it turned out to be even a bigger mistake on my part; the guy with teeth marks on his dick was a top lieutenant in this Neo-Nazi prison gang. They dragged me to an out of the way location and seriously beat me down.' Travis removed his upper and lower teeth. 'They made sure my dick biting days were over and sold me to this black gang who had the worst rap of all the gangs, they gangraped their new punks so viciously they had to visit the infirmary to get stitched up.'

Tom could see how visibly shaken Joe was listening to Travis' ordeal in Angola. He quietly slipped over, sat behind Joe, massaging the tension from his shoulders, and whispered that everything way okay.

Travis waited for Joe to calm a bit then said. 'Joe, the tide started to turn for me while I was recuperating, a very kind inmate nurse told me how to survive as a turned out punk servicing other inmates sexually.'

Tom stood up; his cock was rock hard and stood straight out. 'Travis, time for Joe to see what you learned in that infirmary.'

Travis dropped to his knees and engulfed the huge cock all the way down to the thick black pubic hair. Joe's eyes nearly popped out when Travis forced Tom down on the bed and started aggressively fucking Tom's cock with his throat, pulling out leaving only the head which he savagely worked over deep sucking and gumming until Tom gritted his teeth and groaned.

The wild forceful sex was taking its toll on Joe; his solid meat tube was drooled precum as he tightened his gripped and jacked faster. Tom and Travis had been watching him out of the corner of their eye as he fisted his big fuck stick. Almost on cue, they jumped up and started in on Joe. Tom held him tight, arms pulled above his head while Travis demonstrated his deep throat skills, swallowing Joe and gumming the base of his cock. With both hands he caressed his balls rolling them around between the thumb and finger. Joe was experiencing sensory overload, his previous cock-for-stamps sex had never been this intense. Cum was building up for an eruption and the sensation was mind-boggling.

Tom rolled Joe's nipples between his thumb and forefinger, he leaned down and licked the boy's ear and spoke softly. 'Get ready for the most awesome climax you've ever experienced.'

The words had barely been spoken when Joe started to blow his wad. After Travis gulped down the first blast he starting sucked at a feverish pace, drawing the sperm from Joe's balls. Struggling against Tom's iron grip, Joe yelled a string of meaningless threats, squirmed to free his arms and pull Travis off his cock. Tom just laughed and planted a kiss on Joe's forehead.

'Little dude, after tonight you're gonna be spoiled, expecting every blow job to be Hoover-Boy quality.'

Travis decided not to give Joe the double-whammy; no need to overload his circuits, besides the night had just begun for Joe. Pat, possibly even his trick construction crew, would be all over Joe. However, of more immediate business was the need to prep Joe so that when Tom took his cherry the boy didn't pass out from the pain.

Travis had Joe get on his knees and gently pushed him over resting his head on a pillow. He deep massaged his shoulders and back, which started Joe to giddily moan from pleasure. Travis cupped the perfect orbs of the gluteus maximus and began knead Joe's buttocks, causing him to tense up. Travis smiled and silently said. 'Yeah baby, you're all nervous now when your ass is touched, but just wait, I'm gonna have you climbing the walls.'

Travis parted Joe's cheeks and licked tinny pucker causing an instant constriction leaving a small dot-like opening. He continued to tongue the spot where an opening should be, but Joe's sphincter muscles were in full lockdown.

Tom stood behind Joe watching Travis do his thing; his cock pulsed with desire eager to take the virgin ass. Impatient with Travis' progress, he removed a slender bullet shaped suppository from its foil wrapper, the waxy bullet began to melt in Tom's hand, and his body was like a pressure cooker radiating heat.

'Here!' Tom handed Travis the bullet. 'Lets make this thing happen!'

Travis gave an exasperated look. 'Big guy, I know what I'm doing! Just set back and smoke another joint...please.'

Tom acquiesced, he knew picking at Travis wouldn't achieve anything, he fired up a joint and watched, afraid to stroke his throbbing dick for fear that it would explode all over the bed covering. Pat babied his fancy bed linen, like a five star hotel hell-bent on preventing pecker-tracks. Every evening in a vain hope of forgoing cum splatters they turn back the bedspreads, Pat discreetly sends his houseboy to turn back covers while he entertains his guest.

Tom chuckled to himself; hotels seem to be clueless about afternoon tryst, which presumably would account for about half of the cum stains on those fancy bedspreads.

'Fuck! What did you just stick in my ass? It hurts like hell!' Joe was trying to sit-up but Travis pressed down on his shoulders.

'Just keep cool! Travis uncapped a bottle of poppers and held it under Joe's nose. 'Take a big draw of this and everything mellows out...trust me, you'll see.'

'Wow! What is that stuff?' Joe's face was flush. 'I feel...god, I don't know how to describe it! Kind of a tingle all over.'

'Tell me how you ass feels now?' Travis took a hit of poppers and passed it on to Tom. 'That's right, it doesn't hurt anymore...you're starting to feel a tingle down there.'

Tom had another hit and took it over to Joe. 'Hey buddy! You like this stuff don't ya.' Tom blocked one nostril and held the bottle for Joe, then repeated the process with the other nostril. He looked back at Travis; he had three fingers in Joe pounding away while he sucked his balls and milked him.

Joe was feeling the full effect of the magic bullet in his ass; his sexual high seemed insatiable, Travis used four fingers to twist and stretch Joe's hole. He motioned for Tom to get his rubber on and lube up. Then he made one final assault on Joe's beautiful ass, inserting all five fingers and pushing inside past the knuckles. Joe seemed to enjoy the pounding even more, he moaned and mumbled, 'Feel awesome!'

Tom was on his knees behind Joe lubricating his cherry ass; he used almost a full tube of KY, forcing it deep in the channel. Copious amounts of precum dripped and pooled in his hand. He fisted his engorged meat-stick coating it with the natural lube and lined up the head with Joe's hole. Even with all the stretching exercise Travis had preformed the resiliency of the sphincter muscles returned the virgin anus to its original shape.

With one mighty push the stallion cock popped in, the anal ring squeezed tightly around the invader. Tom froze, gripping the slim hips tighter, giving Joe time to adjust to the feeling of the gigantic intruder.

Travis kept Joe off balance with the poppers while Tom gradually inserted more, fucking in slow motion, rubbing his rock hard dick against the young studs' prostate, hoping to get Joe involved, a willing and eager participant in his deflowering.

Tom's lover and soul partner watched in amazement as the gentle giant manipulated Joe, moving like a large Black Panther, slowly and methodically building momentum until his sex partner turned into a wanton slut, begging to be fucked.

Travis' lust and desire for his super-stud man was almost fever pitched. He felt the muscle spasms of Tom's rock hard body; pressing his palms against his back he felt the synchronized muscle ballet as Tom piston his hot cock pounding Joe's virgin ass.

More than anything Travis wanted to suck Tom's big balls while he power fucked. He ached to feel them in his mouth caressing them with his tongue as they constricted and exploded volleys of love juice. But he would never fulfill his desire, instead remembering an age-old con's warning: 'Never get between a man and his nut!'

To Be Continued.