Tiny

Little dude let me dig up in that bitch.

I guess that ain’t quite the way I want to put it. So let me rephrase it this way:

Little dude let me tap that ass and dig out that inner bitch we both knew was living deep inside of his sweet little cunt hole.

The way I see it that shit was funny as fuck, listening to that bitch boy yelp in his high-pitch squeal that reminded me of a long-winded Chihuahua in heat. ‘Stop it Fatin, you’re killing me with that thing!’

Well, isn’t that what good pipe supposed to do? Slay the insatiable pussy from the hunger pangs of dick withdrawal. Quiet the stomach rumblings. Stretch out the intestines like a thorough colonoscopy.

I mean, what exactly did little dude think was going to happen when I stuck my jimmy up his tiny little poop chute? That I was going to take it easy on his ass like Driving Miss Daisy? Hell naw! Doesn’t he fucking know already that a big dick plus a tight hole equals piston-like strokes into submission with a smooth silky finish of a fiery hot nutt?

Dumb ass motherfucker!

I probably should’ve known he was fresh virgin ass the first time he stepped up in our gym. Now, I know I’m hood, but there isn’t a black guy in this world that walks that upright! I’m not talking about military straight, because even a guy that has no real rhythm is issued some kind of swag or style when he is taught to march. Little dude was just a cornball—a pure cornball. Hole and ass cheeks so tight loose shit would have a hard time making a run for it.

Still though, we thought little dude was cool. He may have had the face of a mutt hit by a pile-on with his low-caesar fade and thick flavor savor, but little dude got that our gym was a gym to pump iron. Not some seedy little spot to shuck the corn with a well-greased hand. That was important to me and my three buff dudes before we gave the little bastard clearance to work out at our gym.

We don’t exactly have papers on the place per se, but we (me, Tim, T-Bone, and Tyrone) take a considerable amount of pride in running it as unofficial ambassadors as it relates to keeping out the rift rafts and the queers. Especially those fucking queers! They are out of fucking control! It’s like a faggot plague! Now before you go out and start drawing up protest signs and prancing around in your little tutus and vogue-ing down the avenue, I am not a homophobe. Like any other red-blooded man that fears the Blue Balls epidemic that ravishes a sexless world, I love a good cocksucker or a skilled butt boy when the regular bitch is out of commission with her monthly visitor. But when it comes to the fairies and the locker rooms, one too many do-it-yourself stories told all of you that it’s one big sexual playground to explore. It wouldn’t be so fucking bad if so many of them didn’t look like Shrek or Fiona, hiding out in some obscure corner of trying to convert the whole thing into one big gloryhole: The stalls, the saunas. There’s a real fucking reason there are hollowed out video booths in those X-rated video stores other than to preview your neighbor’s flick. Keep them those motherfuckers in business too! It’s a bad economy. Even the pretty fucks work a nerve sometimes, acting all prissy like running on the treadmill at 3.5 incline thinking that sweating and smelling like a real man is a terrible sin all the while posting a hard-on while a real dude hit the weights. Sometimes I want to scream at every one of those motherfuckers ‘You like ball juice doncha? So, it’s going to smell like balls in this bitch, you dimwitted motherfucker!’

Where was I? Oh, yeah. Little dude. Little dude came off as something new though, standing about five-six, somewhere over two hundred pounds boasting an incredible physique. His well-developed delts and serratus brought forth a pair of high-sitting, countrywide pecs that were almost surreal; shoulders well rounded, with his triceps competing with his biceps and massive forearm to create limbs that appeared to be carved from Herculean stone. And his thighs and glutes were just as equally impressive instead of the usual afterthought of most modern-day bodybuilders.

Before I found myself deep in another bromance, I took a step back and regrouped. I’ve been syked out before. Rift rafts had their stunts just like the queers. There way of sneaking into our gym is either by being an ex-con straight off the yard with nothing else better to do with their days or flex around muscles products of human growth hormones. While the ex-cons annoyed me by playing hard to avoid being bitched, I had a special hatred brewing for those fucking chemies that gave the rest of us clean dudes a bad name.

Little dude had it together though. He knew his body type. He knew all about the different philosophies of the different bodybuilding magazines and books out there, from old school to new. He knew his supplements like the back of his hand, and the purpose of each and which ones was pure garbage for the yuppies that needed more junk to put in their bodies to feel like they were doing something big. More importantly, he knew the difference between sets and reps. He knew which combination of which offered growth or strength depending on the number of weights he used and the conversion he needed to get his desired results.

From a distance little dude was quite cool, giving his usual nod when he saw us. And, from time to time he would spot us with our weights when we were a couple of men down and we would do the same for him since he was forever riding solo.

Tim, our black built titan, was the friendliest out of the four of us. It was only natural that he reached out to little dude first and introduce the rest of us. Little dude was quickly impressed with T-Bone. T-Bone was closest to him in height, standing about a couple of inches taller than him at five-eight. T-Bone was diesel-cut like a motherfucker, boasting a 50-inch chest, 21-inch guns, and a 29-inch waist that made competitive athletes everywhere froth at the mouth. Whereas Tim had an imposing superhero’s super body, my skully-wearing four-eyed friend Tyrone didn’t come off as a much of a bone crusher as he would like people to think. At best, he was just a corporate thug that looks like he got carried away with the dumbbells for his weekend motorcycle club.

“This here is Fatin,” Tim introduced me last. “But everybody calls him Tiny.”

Little dude chuckled, knowing that my six-foot-four, nearly three hundred solid pound frame disqualified me from being teeny in any sort of way.

While it would be easy for me to say that I had the best body out of my crew, I don’t. I don’t look like a freakazoid bodybuilder like Tim or T-Bone, but my immense muscular cuts only enhanced my great looks and supported my health nut ways like my boy Tyrone.

“And as you can see I ain’t tiny down here either. I can charge a lot more than $5 for this foot long!” I bragged to little dude just days after our official meeting, stripping out of my jockstrap to jump into the steaming shower.

I should’ve known by the way his eyes nearly popped out of their sockets as I playfully grabbed the dickie that dude was really jonesing for it. Probably going home and rubbing one out just thinking about the syrupy taste. If not then, especially the way little dude always “accidentally” brushed up against me at the gym whenever he could score an unquestionable freebie. I mean damn, I know I’m as big as he is short, but I was starting to think that I was becoming some sort of cuddle post for the kitten. But I was still green to him throughout all those months, and then California.

California was the jump off point for me dissecting little dude when we went down to Venice Beach for this fitness and charity thing Labor Day Weekend. Everything was going good the first night we shared a motel room. The night after that, after I sifted through those bodybuilder brochures and saw the chat line numbers for buff men looking for buff men, I tried to push that fucked-up shit out of my mind. I was desperate not to believe that I let another queer slip into the gym. The proof proved to be in the pudding when I came back to my room early from a seminar only for a chair to be posted up against the door. And when little dude came to remove it, he was escorting the tall ugly dude with an incredible body out of his room. When I took the mature route and ask what was up their goofy grins, little dude decided that he had a case of Alzheimer followed by a bad pack of lies.

This was totally new to me. Usually when we had a queer in the mix it was nothing to smoke him out. Flash him a smile and the peace maker and he’s getting whiplash to fall to his knees. Little dude was giving lingering glances in, but he wasn’t biting, fighting the urge to see it through.

I was just about to give up on little dude when my three road dawgs started swapping notes in the locker room about little dude giving everybody head. That is, everybody except me. I didn’t know how to take it until they said that he was unbending about not letting them bust in his mouth and was giving them hell about them trying to get between those booty cheeks.

“I bet he’s saving that for Tiny.” Tyrone boasted throwing on a pair of boxer briefs to show off his bulky bulge.

“Why you say that?”

“You blind? Little dude is stuck to you like Velcro underwear.”

“Yeah, right,” I said, pulling a well-fitted tee shirt over my formed body. “I tried to get him to take care of the stick for a while and he acts like he’s scared of it.”

“No, homo,” Tim said, “I’m scared of that elephant trunk too and I got its twin right here.”

I laughed as Tim grabbed himself through his briefs. Tim had a monster dick, but his was chunkier than it was long, and I had a well-rounded donkey dick.

“That’s because he wants you to put a ring on it before he gives up the cakes.” Tyrone said through my laughter.

“Just like a bitch.” T-Bone, our recently engaged comrade, beamed.

“Just like a bitch.” Tyrone laughed.

“Once he gets it from you, he’ll probably become an unfaithful wifey and spread the love to the rest of the hood. Give the rest of us a wink of that brown eye pie.” Tim smirked.

There was a brief silence between us, as the same thought seemed to pop up in our heads.

“You thinking what I’m thinking, folk?” I asked.

“Hell yeah,” Tyrone said. “It would be a nice way to send our boy T-Bone off into that dark night.”

“…without worrying about getting another bachelor party stripper pregnant,” Tim said, looking over at Tyrone.

“Again,” T-Bone chuckled.

“A good old-fashioned Chattanooga choo-choo,” I hollered, pulling the imaginary chain with my muscled arm, “is definitely in order.”

*          *          *

“You sure we’re cool doing this?” Little dude worriedly inquired.

“Stop acting like such a scared little pussy and man up!” I barked in a friendly manner leaving him unsuspecting of my real intent as I fumbled with the key in the lock.

It was precisely ten minutes after midnight, and I had gone from zero to hero with little dude over the passing weeks. I struck out a time or two trying to find my in. I found a crack by helping him change the tire on his Hummer. But I finally broke ground around Christmastime when I thought to include little dude in my gift-giving rounds. It wasn’t anything spectacular—just some heavy-duty hand grips with 300lbs resistance—but it touched him enough to put me and the crew on the VIP list of some trendy club he was DJ-ing on New Year’s. By the time T-Bone’s Super Bowl Party came about, I pulled little dude to the side as one self-scheduling businessman to another about asking him to join me in a late-night workout after we spent most of the afternoon gorging on everything in sight.

In the moment, I lied and said it was somehow good for the muscles. Later I left him guilt-ridden about his ravenous appetite with the desperate need to exercise some of it off before we hit the hay for the night. He agreed.

“I wouldn’t have my own key if it wasn’t cool for me to work out after hours.” I said, watching little dude take a water bottle to the head, rehydrating after the liquor we poured during the party.

After we got in and locked the doors behind us, I started out doing my thing with the cables to work out on my broad shoulders and he went in to do some lying triceps extensions. As we worked our respective body parts, we met back in the middle went I needed a spotter for the bench press. I returned the favor in kind by standing on the calf machine when the given load wasn’t heavy enough.

Little dude always had an incredible pair of legs in a muscled up masculine way, so it should’ve come as no surprise that his head was elsewhere not to hear the Three Musketeers come in with their own set of keys.

“Looking good back there,” Tim mouthed off, startling little dude. I knew this by the way he jerked the shoulder pads I was standing on. Tim wasn’t giving a fuck about me about to lose my balance subtly looking at the sculpted ass coming through the form-fitting Under Armour before him.

“No doubt,” Tyrone said less subtly, leaning back to get the same view of the perfect fleshly round ass.

“I see you got away from the future wifey.” Little dude said specifically to T-Bone, looking down at the machine, oblivious to everything going on behind him.

“Yeah,” T-Bone said. “She wasn’t in the mood to give up the goodies tonight after her team went down with the ship. I figured I could stay at home and beat my meat or make sweet love to the bells. They’ll never say no.”

“I feel you.” Little dude ended it there.

The three of them stood behind little dude for a few minutes more admiring the view and making animated plays around his booty.

I jumped down from the machine after little dude had finished up his sets. He was obviously stunned to find the same three men in the same place they were when he was working out.

“What?” Little dude asked looking out at the three of them.

“I was thinking that you got some nice-ass glutes.” T-Bones smiled, stroking his hairy chin like he was seriously thinking.

“Thanks…I guess.” Little dude said cautiously.

“Watching the game tonight, I don’t think there was a player on the field with your tight end.” Tim added straight with T-Bone and Tyrone chuckling in the back.

“You know,” Tyrone said starting in his rehearsed spill. “Me and the boyz were talking, and we said how much we admired that nice, muscled butt every time you clean up after giving us some head.”

From where I stood next to little dude, I couldn’t make out his face without being so apparent, but I could make out the cold fear that must’ve been running through his veins.

“Hold up,” I injected on cue. “You need to quit all that shit! My man here ain’t gay.” I said, slapping little dude on his hard shoulder.

“I ain’t say all of that. All I said was little dude gave good face.” Tyrone said.

I asked as if I was sincerely shocked, “to the three of you?”

The three of them answered in their melody of nods and personalized statements.

“Tell me that ain’t true folk. You like a hard dick in your mouth?” I asked.

If it was just one of them little dude could’ve bucked and flat out denied it, but with three of these accusers standing there in front of him like that the only thing he could do was turn red and storm out of the gym into the locker room, leaving the three of them to laugh and me to call little dude back.

By the time I got back into the locker room, little dude had his stuff and was ready to go. He said he didn’t want to talk about it. I said that I did, wanting to know where his head was to serve up the crew with blowjobs. He said he didn’t have to answer to me and that he was going home. I told him that was fine by me, if he could find a way there as I gently reminded him that I was his ride to the party and to the gym, and it wasn’t like he was going to get a cab to come on that side of town that hour of the night. Then, he threatened to walk it out, before I told him that even with all his muscles, he couldn’t stop a round of stray bullets.

He started off that he liked dudes but didn’t see himself as being a faggot. That he liked me, but when he saw me flirting with some random broad that he thought it gave him the license to suck off Tim. After I dropped the bitch, and was going about business as usual, Tim threatened to tell if little dude didn’t continue to suck him off only for Tyrone to catch them in the act just to turn around and get T-Bone on the action, too.

“It sounded to me like you’ve been busy bobbing your head left and right on some dick next to working out.”

“Not the three of them at the same time.” Little dude said softly in defense.

“Not the three of them at the same time.” I mocked from my seated position on the bench. “Like that makes it sound a lot less whorish.”

“You mad at me? I know how you feel about the queers.”

“I ain’t the one that gave head to three motherfucking dudes that can bash my skull in! The question is how come you hadn’t tried to slob on my knob? I’m like the three of them combined!” I laughed.

“Yeah, you working with some tubesteak of the likes I’ve never seen before.” Little dude said coyly.

“That’s saying a lot coming from the mouth of a dude that took care of three friends with it…and probably a lot more to do something that slutty. Three dudes that is thick as thieves? Really?”

“I know. I know. Stupid.” Little dude shook his head.

“You know the way they were talking about your butt they want a crack at it.”

Little dude shook.

“What’s that about?”

“I’ve never been fucked a day in my life.”

“You’re a virgin.”

“Back there. I know this is a lot to ask, seeing that they’re your boyz, but you think you can help me out of this?”

“No.” I said flat out.

Little dude was surprised.

“I thought we were boyz, too.” Little dude cried.

“I thought so, too. But I guess my dick ain’t where it’s at.”

“It ain’t like that, man.”

“Then tell me what it’s like then.”

Little dude paused. “You ain’t going to make me say it are you?”

“Say what?” I asked, still pretending to be naïve.

“Say that I was feeling you more than I was feeling the others.”

“Man, that don’t even make sense!” I said sincerely. “You like me so much you gave my peeps a constellation prize of blowing them off and leaving me curbside. But even if I could help you out of this situation, there are three dudes we would have to battle to get you out of here. They got motivation to come after you. All I have is a dis to ignore you and get back to my workout.”

I was off the bench heading back into the gym when I heard little dude plead, “Please, man,” with his strong hand reaching out for my awakening dick.

“Ain’t that what got your weak ass in trouble in the first place?” I said coolly removing his hand.

Little dude looked like he was going to bust out crying, but mannish pride was keeping him from shedding a tear with this sort of puppy face hopelessness that was tugging at heart strings.

“I’ll tell you what. I’ll get you out of this situation.”

“Really,” he said with a Kool-Aid smile.

“I wouldn’t be too excited because it’s going to cost you your ass.”

“What is it? Whatever it is, I’ll pay.” Little dude rattled off, not listening to what I said, but I was game to play along.

“The down payment consists of some of that mouth-to-lip service you seemed to be passing out like Halloween candy.”

“Okay,” Little dude said jumpily.

“I said that was the down payment, something that you can easily come off of. Paid in full, like I said, is your ass. Sacrifice that virgin booty to my dick.”

I would’ve laughed at the way little dude turned ghost white.

“Hell naw! I’ve seen porn stars look like they’re going through it taking regular size dick and you’re easily twice as big as them!”

“Hey, that’s the cost for putting yourself out there like a ho when you’re not broken in to play the game.” I said coldly.

“There’s got to be another way.”

“No, there isn’t.”

“I can give you money.”

“From spinning tables? We’re not even in the same league of dollars.” I paused, and then made my way to the door leading out to the gym. “Fuck it then! Let them run a train on your punk ass. I was going to take my time with it, and at least make your first dick sweet on you. With three dudes taking it like it’s their last good fuck before death row, don’t be surprised if your farts come out muffled from now on.”

“Wait!”

“What?” I stopped.

“You want to lead me out, and take me back to your spot, and do the damn thing there?” Little dude said concededly.

“My thing is right here and now. Suck and fuck.”

“And what’ll stop them from coming back here?”

“Absolutely nothing…which is why if you let me fuck you we might be good.”

“How you figure?”

“I can go the distance. They’re like rapid fire little boys. I know I can outlast them! By the time they rub out one or two good ones I’m still going up in you like the Energizer bunny, and there too tired to come at you. Now, it doesn’t keep them off your ass, but at least it makes your first time not so traumatic.”

Little dude was slow to come up with some kind of answer and my dick was growing in my drawers by the second that I just whipped it out in front of him. He had seen it countless of times since we met, but his eyes popped like he finally got his hands on the golden ticket to touch it.

“Don’t be afraid to grab the handlebar. I know you’re not a virgin to that.” I said.

He reached out and wrapped his callus hands around the semi-hard thing, and slowly pumped it in his fist.

“Feel good, don’t it? So why don’t we take it around the corner where we have some privacy just in case they want to rain on our parade earlier than expected.”

We moved over to the last hole of lockers in the far back. I posted up against the wall and little dude fell to his knees. He was strangely delicate in stroking me hard, and when he was ready the center of his tongue slapped the tip like a sloppy wet kiss. The cold sopping felt good but felt even better when his mouth gave me the deal that it gave three of my fellas. He was quiet, putting that tongue to work over the most sensitive parts of my dick, and loud and slurping when he needed me to know how much he was enjoying my dick. And he didn’t even have to do all that with the ease he deep throated me. Even the size queen queers had a time doing that. I guess it was the sheer sight of that alone, that was about to make me bust a nutt right then and there.

“Cool it, man,” I said, trying to maneuver my dick from between his tonsils. “You got a good mouth, but I want to crack open that ass-safe.”

Little dude was praying I forgot and tried to get in a few quick strokes to make me come before I guess he remembered there were three dudes out in the gym I was protecting him from.

After retrieving some fire and ice lube, I put little dude doggie-style over the bench so that he kneed the wood and so that he could use his hands to brace the locker. “Man, you’re freaking short,” I stated facts, awkwardly squatting down in the tight space so that I could guide my dick down through his sweaty crack.

The tip of my dick was perfectly aligned with his hole when I grabbed his shoulders and let myself in between those rigid glutes.

“Stop it Fatin, you’re killing me with it!” Little dude screamed in pain.

“Let me push that flared head all the way in that wet pussy. I promise you it’ll make you feel real good in a minute.” I assured him.

He was tighter than a motherfucker, and I probably could’ve enjoyed opening up his virgin hole more if it wasn’t for the lube doing a number on my dick with the fluctuating sensations that was trying to force me to come mid-stroke.

“That’s it, baby boy…let me straighten out those guts…and make myself right at home,” I breathed, sinking it further in the clenched channel drilling for rock bottom.

It took putting little dude on his back and about thirty minutes before I got any sort of enjoyable rhythm out of mounting the dude. It was like his hole was so closed up and came with so much friction that it was trying to rip the foreskin off my jimmy. But with a constant supply of lube and sweat, little dude went from squealing in pain to becoming a bitch in heat, eventually throwing his ass back and letting me dig out the slut I knew was living deep inside of his cunt hole.

“All those blowjobs you were doling out and all you really wanted was some dude to take care of that ass for you, huh?” I huffed after some time, wiping away pouring sweat from my forehead and feeling good about stretching out his dripping wet asshole.

I caught a second or third wind and started pounding him out for about fifteen minutes more, listening to him whimper about being split in two with my balls slamming up against him.  

“I got to go.” I said looking at the hour and a half I spent up in his hole. “I got to let go of this nutt!”

I fucked that ass harder than hard, his hole was shivering and quivering around my dick and before I knew it, it clenched down hard on my dick and forced me to shoot like a broken hydrant deep inside of him.

“You got some of that good pussy.” I puffed out, catching my breath, looking at the load that painted his abdomen. I almost broke into laughter the way his used hole queefed like well-fucked coochie as I pulled out. “So good in fact that ‘it ain’t no fun unless the homies have some!’”

I got up and was quickly replaced by my good gym buddies. Minutes turned into hours watching everybody get some of that sweet ass. It was like our dicks refused to die that night. It was like the more ass we got, the more we wanted more. Even after his butthole started kicking out every load we ever put up in him, which made the ride even sweeter. And when that wasn’t enough, we got little dude to lick off our scummy dicks, seeing that we had girlfriends and future wives to get back home to.

After we left little dude to lay there on the bench with his sloppy hole, the four of us jumped in the shower and saw each other off. But I couldn’t let things go without letting T-Bone know that that counted as his wedding gift from the boyz. “So if you’re wifey starts bitching out the side of her neck about us not getting her a gift, tell her we don’t mind parking the choo-choo train into her station anytime. Tell her your boy Tiny says so!”