Rock Bottom
by Mack Shafter

Rocky just sort of appeared out of nowhere, late Friday night as I packed up my truck for a trip into town.

"Hey," I said, stuffing my bag of tricks into my tool box and locking down the lid. "What are you doing, out walking the streets?" I didn't really need an answer. Nothing Rocky could do would surprise me. I've known him much too long for that.

"Man," he said, "I need some air." He seemed a little jittery, coming closer. When he got right up next to me I could almost feel him grind his teeth.

"Yeah?" I asked. "Well it looks like you chose the right night to get it." Sweat on his arms and his forehead plastered down hair in the moonlight. One drop fell off of the tip of his nose. I leaned back against my truck, folding my arms and feeling sad. "Rocky, my man, you've been using again."

"Little bit," he said. He wouldn't look me in the eye. "You know how it is."

"Yeah, well," I answered. He had stayed cleaner longer than I had expected. We both had. "I won't give you the lecture. You know it already. By heart. Man, that shit'll kill you."

He blew out a breath. "I'm just so fuckin' horny."

I snorted a laugh. "I know how that goes, too. I would take you along with me but I don't think you'd have too good a time. Not too much pussy where I plan to go. What happened to Louise?"

"Took the baby up to see her folks. Couple weeks." He slouched against the wall beside my driveway. "You got any movies?"

"Movies?" I didn't follow. "What kind of movies you want?"

"Good ones." A light dawned in the night.

"None with any women in 'em."

"Naw, man. That's okay. Just oral action."

"Sorry. No can do. You know I like the rough stuff."

"Yeah," he said. "Whatever." Then he shook his head and rubbed his crotch. "So how 'bout, you know, you an' me?"

I had wanted to blow Rocky since the day I met him, and I'd told him so. More than once. He'd played pro ball for a season and he's never lost the body. These days working construction keeps his ass in shape and his thick neck and shoulders dark tan.

"Just a quick suck-off," he added. I shook my head.

"You're tweaked, Rock. You don't know how much I hate this, but no. You probably can't get it up like this anyway. Come on, man. I'll drive you home."

By the time we had gone the two blocks to his house, Rocky had mellowed out a little. I parked and walked around my truck, reached down into my tool box and pulled out a bottle of lube.

"Here," I said. "Take this. It works better than spit over callouses like yours. Choke it a couple of times and try to get some sleep."

"Thanks," he said, looking tired, and let himself into his house.

An hour or so later I found myself talking about the whole thing with my boy Ray while I filled his piggy asshole with its last, pre-fisting hoseout.

"Shit," he groaned, around a cramp. "I'd've done him in a heartbeat. You blew your one big chance."

"Shut up," I said, "and hold your water." But I wondered if he hadn't, maybe, figured that out right.

Then Sunday morning rolled around, and with it, so did Rocky.

"What's up?" he said when I opened the door naked. I do that mainly to scare off the Witnesses. I don't need anything less than religion.

"You tell me," I told him while I closed the door behind him. "How you feel? Want some coffee?"

"Yeah," he said, dropping his linebacker's frame on my couch with his thighs spread out wide, just like always, one hairy nut peeking out of his gym shorts. "Please. Man, I was out of it bad, Friday night. Yesterday I felt like crap."

"Good," I said, holding the steaming mug out to him. "Now you'll have something to talk about, next time you go to a meeting." Leaning back in my easy chair, I flipped my nuts over to one side and looked at him over my own coffee cup.

"Jesus. Aren't you going to put on some clothes?"

"Nope," I told him. "It's my house and I know you've seen bigger dicks."

"I propositioned you, didn't I?"

Rocky surprised me for once. Not that he'd ask me about what he'd said that night; just that he'd used such a fancy-ass word for it.

"Propositioned? I guess you could call it that. Pissed me off."

He set down his coffee cup.

"Sorry," he said.

"Don't apologize, man," I answered. "Just do not do it again." He looked more than a little hurt. "Not unless you mean it, and you've got no crank on board."

He didn't say anything, then, for a while.

"Okay," he said, finally. "That's fair enough." After another man-sized gulp of coffee he said, "Well, I'm not wrecked now."

"Yeah?" I asked, feeling my dick come alive. Seeing his cock do the same thing inside those shorts.

"Yeah," he said, watching me starting to play with myself.

"I don't blow anybody, doesn't blow me first," I told him. I have said truer things, but what the hell.

Rocky set his cup back down.

"You're gonna have to teach me."

He learned quick, and I came like a fire hose, leaning back in my chair with my dick down his throat and his head full of black, curly hair in my hands.

"Damn," I moaned, wiping sweat out of my eyes. "What else do you do that good, that you've never told me about?"

"Show me the rough stuff," he breathed, staring up at my eyes.

I let go of his ears and picked up the remote. When it came into focus the scene on my screen did exactly what Rocky had asked me to do. I couldn't have cued it up better if I'd tried. In tight close-up, Ray's smooth-shaved cheeks flared and took the best part of my forearm up high.

Rocky gasped. I shut it off. He looked at me. I picked my cup up; took a sip.

"Come on," I told him, standing up; "I'll show you how to work the douche hose."

I left him with the water running and the pressure and temperature right.

"Take your time," I told him. "Get it all." I rolled the shower door shut and walked out to the garage through the kitchen, pouring myself more coffee, switching on the phone machine, hanging up the sling and setting out the grease and towels.

"Don't touch that!" I barked when I barged back in to find Rock standing naked in my bathtub with my douche hose up his butthole and his big, veiny cock in his hand. He let go like I'd shot him. First his shoulders and neck, then his whole face turned red. I knew I'd almost lost him. Two, maybe three more quick strokes and he'd have splattered all over my walls. I'd never seen that cock before. I wanted to feel it squirm, deep in my throat. I had to make him turn around.

"Like having something stuffed 'way up that bunghole, don't you, Rocky? Yeah. Pull the hose out. Show it to me." He did as I told him, still blushing. "Come on; lean over. Grab your ankles. Yeah. Oh, yeah."

I can't remember when I've seen a bigger, rounder, harder ass. Fucking poetry. Something to slap - hard - right after a touchdown. Jesus. How could I resist?

Rocky yelped when my hand landed, but to his credit, he didn't try to move away. He did, however, start to leak.

"Okay," I told him, "squat. Over the drain. Blow all that water out, now. Let's see what you've got." It came back clean. Or mostly, anyway.

So I filled him up again.

"Now get down on all fours and lay back on your back."

It took him a while. He took up all the available space.

"You must really want this bad," I told him. "You haven't said boo since you got here." First-timers make me feel jaded, sometimes: I just couldn't believe he still had that huge hard-on, thumping up against his gut and leaking all over itself.

"You don't know," he breathed back, looking up at my eyes. "Nobody knows." He flinched. "Can I let go now?"

"Can't take it, pussy boy?" Rock started glowering.

"What the hell. Yeah - go ahead. But pull your knees up to your chest." They came up straight. "No - spread 'em. Wider. Yeah. Like that. Skooch down, there, big boy. Let me see you shoot it out."

Rocky grunted. Nothing. Rocky strained. Not a trickle. Finally I took pity on him, knelt down beside the tub and started massaging the backs of his thighs.

"Relax," I told him, quietly. "Just relax. This stuff only works when you let go." I stared into his eyes and made him stare into mine until his lids slid shut and he sighed.

It all came back out, then, hot and fast and clean. I picked up the hose and I rinsed him off and filled him up again.

"Oh, man," he groaned, eyes closed. "Oh, man."

After two or three more passes I told him, "That's enough," rinsed him off and killed the water. "Just hang out here for a minute, then dry yourself off and meet me out in the garage."

When he showed up again with that big old cock jutting out straight and dripping I handed him a crusty jockstrap.

"Here," I ordered, "put this on. Jesus Christ, you've got big thighs." Rock filled that strap past its limits in every conceivable way. I could hear elastic snap. It looked just fine, though, especially when a new stain started spreading.

I slapped the workbench.

"All right," I told him, "put your foot up here."

How a man that big can move that gracefully I'll never know, but Rock just stepped up and bent over. It took all my strength, then, to keep my face out of that hot, open ass. I fingered it instead and put an open can of grease up on the bench, where Rock could reach it. He looked up at me and frowned.

"Okay; get it good and greasy. Finger-fuck yourself."

He hesitated. Not for long. Then he dropped one index finger down into the pot and reached back and tickled his pucker. He gasped. He pushed, but didn't make much headway.

"Relax," I told him. "Let it open."

"I'm scared something's going to leak," he whimpered.

"What do you think I've got towels out for? Forget it. Just let go and work that finger up your butt. You know you want to. Just relax. Just let it happen." I squatted behind him and watched him explore. First one finger, then another disappeared.

"Like that?" I asked him. He grunted. "I know you do." As soon as he looked like he'd gotten the hang of it I made him stop. That did not make him real happy.

"Okay, stud. That's enough. My turn." I stood up and walked to the sling. "Have a seat," I told him. Rocky unfolded and lumbered on over to sit. "Now lean back." In a minute I had his feet up in the air, in their straps. "Comfortable?" I asked him. Rocky nodded. "Scoot your butt down here." Once I got him in position and wiped clean of grease I settled slowly on my haunches and started to flick at his hole with my tongue.

Rocky gasped and started moaning, so I took my time.

Nose; tongue; goatee; smooth-shaved head: I ran them all up and down over the length of his crack, getting him spit-sloppy, driving him nuts. I had his thighs shaking so hard he couldn't stop by the time I stopped and stood back up.

I made sure he watched me walk over to pick up his can full of grease and fuck my hard, dripping dick into it almost halfway. Then I walked back up to him and started to tap at his hole with its head.

"Open up," I told him. "Daddy's home."

It took Rocky a while to let go, so I took him slow. No thrusts. Just constant, gentle pressure. By the time I got nuts-deep up into him he'd figured out how to take it. I wrapped my arms around his monster thighs and held his kneecaps in my hands.

"Now squeeze," I ordered, "hard." He did. I had to grit my teeth to keep from shooting while I counted up to ten.

"Now let go," I gasped, watching his eyes. This time took a little longer, but he finally got it right. I slid right back out.

"Now don't do that again unless I tell you to. You got that? You don't squeeze unless I say."

"Okay," he whispered. "You're the boss."

"And don't you forget it, bud," I told him, greasing one hand, then the other, up in front of my face while he watched.

Starting with just my thumbs, I massaged his pucker.

"Open it up," I said, softly. "Push it out for me." Pretty soon I had both thumbs inside him.

"Good boy," I said then, again and again, and he ate it up like Sunday brunch, but from both ends. I gave him plenty of time to enjoy.

Rocky started clamping down, though, once we got four fingers in and started toward the knuckles.

"Don't do that," I told him, gently. "Just lie back and let me drive." Still, I backed back out and used both sets of fingers to soothe him and pack in more grease. My thumbs tuck up better than most, I hear, so I knew once we got past the fat of my hand I'd slide in and he'd sit on my wrist like a watch.

"Push it out," I ordered. "Hold it open. Let me see."

Old tightass habits die hard, but I watched him work his mind around the plan until he blossomed like a rose.

"Oh, yeah," I breathed and rubbed my chest and shoulders up and down his thighs. "Just look at that." His eyes shot to the mirror on the ceiling, meeting mine and sliding down to focus on his asshole. I grabbed what I could of his huge, hard, round cheeks in my hands and I lifted and spread them, displaying the hole in between them for him to view. Rocky grabbed the jockstrap's pouch and pulled it toward his face. His eyes went wild.

"Now push it out again, there, baby. Look at that. Aw, fuck. God damn."

Then I started to work on his inside lips with my thumbs and his eyes rolled back to white.

Both thumbs all the way in, spreading, made the big boy groan.

Slowly, I pulled out and wrapped my right arm back around his left leg, to stroke it and to rub my forearm up and down the flat plain of his belly while I corkscrewed my left hand, thumb tucked, fingers pointed, up into him only the slightest bit farther with every twist of my wrist.

"Don't clamp down," I told him. "Not now. Just pant."

"What?"

"Pant. Breathe like a dog."

He panted while I found my angle. Perfect: just...like...

This.

Here we are.

Now I have stopped twisting and started pushing.

Now I've flipped his big cock, soft but thick and still dripping, up and out of that jockstrap and into my mouth.

Now Rocky has got a hard hold on my skull like a football it feels like he wants to deflate.

And I've got him in my throat, lips down to his short hairs.

Suddenly, Rock's got my hand up his ass.

Touchdown.

Rocky's howls sound like a whole ballpark full of wild fans, but more than hearing them, I feel them through his thighs. I have to fight to make him let me come back up for air.

"Like that?" I gasp as I work my hand carefully into a fist up there, somewhere deep inside of him.

"Ho-ah..." he groans. I clench my hand tight and I start to churn him up.

"Good," I say, and I take one last, long lick of his once-again rock-hard and throbbing-hot cock.

"Now clamp down hard," I order.

Rocky's asshole makes my hand mashed meat. I gulp for air and dive back down onto him 'til my throat does the same to his dick.

One punchfuck jolt and he's into the end zone.

Conversion.

I struggle back to taste Rocky's jizz and feel it, with my tongue, shoot in wave after wave out his slit.

Sweet, hot, salt, wet; heavy, just like Rocky; loads explode over, and over, and over again. When I can, I breathe, fast and sharp. When I can't, I keep him coming.

But nobody can come forever and now I remember I've just busted into one tight, cherry big boy butt. No sense in making him too sore to want to come back for another round sometime in the next two weeks. When I let go of his cock Rocky's whole body shakes.

"Okay," I say, two or three times now, thickly, swallowing come as I watch still more dribble out. "Now let go," I tell him. I relax my hand. "No, don't push out. Just let go. I'll do all the work."

Rocky whines while I slide out, but he shoots up one last blast that hits me, square, under my chin. I bow my head and I rub it off into my chest hair.

"Did I do good?" he asks, like a little boy, draping one huge, hairy forearm across his eyes and quivering. I laugh.

"You did fine," I tell him. "Just lay back, now. Let me clean you up."

When I get back with warm washcloths Rocky has started to snore, with his asshole wide open, hanging in midair up over one final surprise.

On the concrete lies my own load, in long ribbons, cooling fast.