"You got it?" Sanchez asks after a long drag on his Marlboro. His name's an affectation: he's lily white. He's Mom's sweet boy, cleans his room, does his own laundry, kisses her goodbye, sells joints and pills to highschoolers on Saturday night, then goes to Church on Sunday pretending to be sinless as starched white sheets. Typical American shyster. S...
This is a true story. It is the story of a young man who was sheltered, unsophisticated about the world and not sure of himself. He came to Memphis from the countryside of Arkansas with no real experiences. It is about me. Growing up, I knew no real want. My parents were gainfully employed and made good money. I was the middle of five kids and did not get mu...
I had both the advantages and curses of being a rock star. I could afford to go anywhere I wanted on the spur of the moment or as the mood hit me, but if a mood hit me that would land me in the tabloids, I'd better be prepared to go to the ends of the earth. The mood had hit me to get the most exotic and total fuck that I could find by the most talented cock...
Chapter One -- I Always Win He walked through the crowd of shouting men, focused on the task ahead. That was something he chose to ignore, every time - the stench of those places. It was a rubbery smell mixed with male sweat and the excitement rising for the bloody fight ahead. If he were to inhale too much, he was bound to get dizzy. Maybe overcome with ra...
After pulling a train on his first day in the cell block, Clayton Smithers settled into a life of being regularly and frequently fucked in his highly available and desirable ass. On that epic first day, the new queen serviced at least twenty of his fellow convicts, as many as had been able to get a turn with him over the two hours that they had available. Al...
In the wee, small hours of the morning, Clayton Smithers woke up with an urgent need to urinate, so he slipped out of his lower bunk and used the urinal in the back of the cell. After flushing it and washing his hands, he started to return to his bunk. His ass was still a little bit sore, but very pleasantly so, because it reminded him of the great fucking h...
Brent, short for Brentworth, his mother's maiden name, was a privileged spoiled college jock. This was the third time he was before Judges Bates for possession of a controlled substance and his rich and powerful Daddy has had enough. He told the judge to give him three years, which will sober him up. Snake, who got his name from the snake tats on his left ar...
I had both the advantages and curses of being a rock star. I could afford to go anywhere I wanted on the spur of the moment or as the mood hit me, but if a mood hit me that would land me in the tabloids, I'd better be prepared to go to the ends of the earth. The mood had hit me to get the most exotic and total fuck that I could find by the most talented coc...
Thunder? Stampede? Earthquake? Ragnarök? No, man, it's the Disciples. The whole motherfucking gang. They're on their hogs, and they ride. Hair streams like sinister oriflammes. Naked biceps clench in leather jerkins. Fists twist throttles. Like a dust of diamonds sweat glistens on the tattoo tapestry. The Disciples roar through primeval forest, serpentinin...
This story is a sequel to "Clayton's Available Ass", which was a sequel to "A Day in the Life of Dr. Smithers". It is about a group of convicts standing in a line, or train, to have anal intercourse with another man. If you find this sort of thing offensive, I suggest you not read it. * "That's him," Snake Hanson whispered to his cellmate, Bill "Rocky" Ro...