Short Stocky Dude Sissy
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Landscaper & Ass Pumped Sissy free porn video
“Let’s rotate that shoulder now,” said the occupational therapy assistant.
Bradley Hunt had been rear-ended a couple of months ago causing this injury, He was now going to the Naval Health Clinic Charleston weekly to rehabilitate his shoulder. Fortunately, he had missed very little pay because he owned a landscape design firm and a Little Caesars pizza franchise.
“How does that feel,” the slender, brown-eyed, blond-haired healthcare worker asked.
“Not too bad,” squinted the rather in-shape man.
“Your face tells me otherwise, Mr. Hunt.”
“Am I that ugly,” he chuckled.
“On the contrary. I just want to make sure we’re rehabilitating your injury correctly.”
“You’re fine. Call me Brad.”
“Thanks!”
“Can I ask you a personal question,” the small businessman inquired.
“You already did,” giggled the employee.
“You got jokes.”
“Sure! I am going to reserve the right not to answer.”
“Not a problem,” his foghorn laugh appearing again. “Where’re you from?”
“I moved here from Philadelphia.”
“You ever lived anywhere else? Maybe out of the country?”
“I figured that’s what you meant. I grew up in Azerbaijan.”
“Damn! That’s a long ways!”
“Do you know where it is,” quizzed the civilian.
“I know it’s like European. I think. Former Soviet, right?”
“Yes. It used to be a part of the Soviet Union. It’s more in Asia though.”
“Oh cool. It’s right on the Caspian sea. By Iran.”
“You ain’t no terrorist, are you,” buckled over.
“No,” the worker’s eyes narrowed.
“Again. I’m yankin’ your chain.”
“It’s okay.”
“Excellent,” Brad remarked. “My wife says I’m just annoying, you know?”
“Not really. Feeling any better?”
“Yeah! This is good! I grew up around here mostly.”
“Very nice! Then you joined the Navy.”
“Yep! But when I was 7 through 12, we lived in South Africa.”
“Interesting. What was there?”
“My folks spent five years as missionaries there.”
“Sounds like an interesting experience.”
The assistant turned toward the table and made some notes. “Okay, sir! We’re all done. Need anything else?”
“Nope! I’m good.”
“I’m going to give you my cell number in case you have any questions or anything. Cool?”
“Great! Let me grab my phone.” Brad punched in the digits.
“Call anytime.”
“Anytime?”
“Anytime.”
Brad left the and went out to the parking lot. He started the work truck and drove across town to an upscale community whose homeowners’ association had contracted with his landscape company. Things appeared to be going well. He got out and chatted with one of his formen briefly. Most of his employees were Hispanic - Mexican and Guatemalan. There were a few Blacks and a couple of White guys too.
Brad shot the shit with the guys momentarily before excusing himself. He had to get home to get changed. It was the opening night of the middle school musical ‘Annie Jr.’ in which his 12 year-old daughter had a major role as ‘Lily’. He rushed as quickly as he could. Suddenly a car crossed into his lane and he had to jerk the wheel. “Fuck,” he yelled as felt a sharp sensation in his shoulder. “Goddamn!”
He made it home and pulled in the driveway. He rotated his shoulder mentally to ease the agitation. He took out his phone and made a call.
“Hello! This is Ali.”
“Ali. Brad Hunt here!”
“Hey, Mr. Hunt. Everything okay?”
“Well, some idiot pulled out in front of me and…”
“You didn’t get in another accident, did you?”
“No, No. Nothin’ like that. I just jerked my steerin’ wheel and well...I guess I pulled too hard and got some sharp pain.”
“Sorry to hear that. Try icing it up for a few then doing the exercise we practiced today.”
“Okay! Thanks!”
“I’ll check on you later to make sure all is well.”
“Alright!”
Brad went into the lovely 2266-square-foot, two-story, house with country yellow engineered wood siding, hunter green shutters on the windows, and a wrap-around porch. He walked up the stairs and into the master suite. He undressed and started the shower. He washed up scrubbing the workday from his well-chiseled, 15% body fat, physique. He toweled off and brushed his teeth. He trimmed his full, stylish, tapered beard. He doused his face with aftershave. Then, he put gel in his ash-brown hair to spike it.
The 37 year-old went into the large walk-in closet he shared with his wife. Latisha had commandeered darn near four-fifths of it. But, he didn’t care. When it came to fashion, he was a simple man. Or as simple as the kindergarten teacher would let him be. He pulled down the outfit she had preselected for him - a lightweight blue sweater to be worn over a white button down with a matching blue tie, fitted khaki pants, and chestnut brown wingtip dress boots.
He cleaned up nicely. He knew he wasn’t an ugly dude. But, he still didn’t quite see what women saw in him. He was usually oblivious to their flirting, but Latisha was not. She could shoot a glare at a woman encroaching on her husband inappropriate that clearly indicated she would ‘cut a bitch’.
Both Brad and his older brother, married outside of their race. Kevin had tricked a super smart woman who was half-Korean, half-Filipina down the aisle. And, Brad had been infatuated with Latisha since the first time he saw her in the 7th grade. She had luxurious, glistening cool brown skin to this day, big doe eyes, and a shapely butt. The two became high school sweethearts. They were on-again-off-again while she was in college and he was in the Navy. After serving six years, he came back home to Charleston and promptly proposed. Now, they had twins, Isaiah and Isabella.
Brad started up the muted red, base model 2014 GMC Yukon and backed out of the driveway. He drove to the school. Latisha would meet him there along with their son. Also, attending would be his parents. Latisha’s mom and stepfather were coming along with her dad and stepmother. Plus her Granny Gee.
He stopped off to get a bouquet for his daughter real quick.
The production went very well. Brad recorded sections with his phone in one hand while he held Latisha’s with the other. Of course, the cast received a standing ovation from adoring friends and family. Everyone told Isabella what a great job she had done. Brad hugged her and gave her the flowers.
“Thanks, dad,” the starlet beamed.
“You’re were great, pumpkin!”
They all posed for pictures. Latisha had been in charge of the cast party. The were light hors d'oeuvres, punch, and cake. They mingled. Brad flirted with Granny Gee. He acknowledged all four of Latisha’s parents.
“Hey, son,” the retired guidance counselor said.
“Hey, dad! How the hell are ya?”
“Fine!”
“Hey, mom!”
“Hi, Brad,” she kissed him. “Wasn’t Izzy just wonderful?”
“Yes, she was!”
Brad’s phone vibrated. He stepped away. “Hello!”
“Brad. It’s Ali. Is your shoulder better?”
“I didn’t ice it yet, but I took a cold shoulder. It’s li’l better.”
“Okay!”
“Look. Thanks for callin’, but I’m at my daughter’s play. I’ll touch base later.”
While he was away from everyone, he checked a messaging app he had downloaded. He tapped the one for Bentley Stafford. Bentley was a residential and commercial landscaping client plus Latisha’s hairdresser. Bentley was also taking Brad’s crazy bulky, seven-and-a-half-inch cock up the poop shoot of his eye-catching, pliable, rotund booty.
Brad fired off a message.
-Hey. At Izzy’s play
-Oh snap! How she do?
-Great! Tisha invited me to day performance for the student body tomorrow.
-You going?
-Hell yeah! Think I can see after it tomorrow?
-Yeah! We can work something out. Gotta run.
Brad rejoined the others.
The Hunts made it back to their home on Osprey Lane. Latisha began barking at the k**s about homework as she started slipping out of the pinstripe V-neck tie-front Antonio Melani dress. Bran followed he up the stairs unbuckling his pants and studied bottom. He smacked it playfully. “Boy, quit,” Latisha giggled.
“They gotta do their homework. You know they’ll stay downstairs. Come on,” he whispered loudly.
“Fine,” she relented.
Brad was correct. Izzy washed her stage makeup off in the laundry room sink.
Zay made himself a roast beef & turkey sandwich, piled on some chips, and then sat down to start his homework. His slightly younger sister ended up across from to do hers.
Upstairs, Brad was getting his dick sucked. He was careful not to touch Latisha’s hair. He ate her out which caused her to bite the pillow to keep the k**s from hearing. He climbed on top and entered her. “Oh, Tisha!”
Latisha was not very vocal. But, she was no corpse. She moved her body taking his manhood with submissive eagerness. Her manicured nails dug into his lean, sturdy back and his macho, muscular glutes.
“Yeah, baby! You’re so hot! I love your ass and your titis, baby!”
She smiled and stared into his blue eyes.
“I love you, Latisha! God, I’ve always loved you!”
“I love you too, baby,” the woman kissed him.
“Oh shit, baby,” Brad bucked up. Dayyyyyyyum!”
The libertarian-leaning man filled her up with his seed. He rolled over on the bed spent.
Latisha hopped up and went to clean herself up. She wafted some air freshener to kill the sex smell. Then, she went downstair to make sure her offspring were progressing appropriately.
The next day, Bentley messaged Brad off and on. They planned to meet as soon as the musical ended. The rendezvous spot would be Bentley’s house.
Meanwhile, Ali called back.
“Hey, Ali,” Brand answered.
“How’s it going, Brad?”
“Pretty good! Thanks!”
“Okay excellent!”
“What’s that beepin’?”
“A microwave,” laughed the slender guy. “ I’m having an early lunch. I’m starving.”
“What’d you bring us,” he chortled.
“Borani plov?”
“Do what?”
“It’s an Azerbaijani dish. In English it’s called pumpkin pilaf.”
“Never had it. Sounds good though.”
“I’ll make some for you when you come in next week.”
“You better not forget. I’ma text you to remind you.”
“Please do.”
“Enjoy your lunch!”
Brad finished a client consult and hopped in the 2015 Chevy Silverado 1500 double cab work truck. He sped over to Bentley’s area of town. He waited. Ten minutes later, the cosmetologist showed up in his silver 2016 Ford Mustang GT. Brad got out and walked into the garage.
“Hey, sexy,” Bentley mused.
“Hey, pretty faggit! How was the play.”
“Izzy was fabulous,” exaggerated Bentley. “Simply fierce,” snapped his fingers three times accenting each syllable.
“Yeah! That ass looks fierce in them shiny leggings.”
“Oh! These old things?”
Bentley and Brad went to master bedroom.
“I love your fuckin’ hair, Bentley,” Brad admitted.
“Thank you, sweetie!”
“Yeah! It’s just so faggoty like that!”
“You really like it,” checked the salon owner as he showcased the neon pink colored close-cropped fade.
“Hell yes! And those multi colored fruity nails. That red lipstick. Those fake eyelashes. My dick just gets so hard for you!”
“Well, give it to me!”
Bentley had douched this morning and not eaten. He was about three inches shorter than Brad coming in at 5’8”. He had a 30-waist and his supple donk measured 37-inches. He pulled down the shimmering leggings revealing a white jockstrap made of a nylon and lycra blend so it looked like a lace design. His even skin had a jewel tone underneath its pecan veneer.
“Whoa, baby,” Brad opined as he smacked the booty. Bentley’s butt responding by shaking. “I love how you told me about that pro football player that paid for you get your ass pumped when you was in college. Shit just turns me on so much! And your ass is so fuckin’ soft, man! Come and suck my dick, Bentley!”
Bentley knelt down and put the girthy rod in his mouth. His juicy painted lips work back and forth on the shaft.
Brad grabbed Bentley’s head. “See, I can’t touch my wife’s hair, but I can be all over yours, faggiit!”
“That’s why faggots are better, White Daddy!”
“Oh, I’m your White Daddy?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Then let White Daddy fuck your pretty Black ass!”
Bentley turned around and tooted his chonka lonka in the air. Brad angled his cock downward and went inside.
“Damn, White Daddy,” winced Bentley.
“You can take it, faggit,” Brad encouraged him.
“Oh yes,” the sassy bottom pushed back on it.
“Mmhmm, sissy! That’s a good li’l faggit!”
“You like fucking my dump truck booty?”
“Hell yeah! You’re one helluva sexy fag!”
“Fuck me! I love your big White dick!”
“I love this ass! You’re so fagtastic! Look at that. Your ass just jiggles, baby!”
Bentley crawled forward. “You like this boipussy?”
“You know I do,” Brad grab the back of the jockstrap. “Get your fruity tooty kabooty back here!”
Bentley put his face on the floor keep his ass high. “Mmmmmm. Oh yes, White Daddy!”
“It’s gettin’ creamy, faggit!”
“Mmhmm! You Stroke this faggot rump!”
“Hell yeah!”
“I done made Tisha’s sexy ass White husband, my rectum ranger!”
“Yeah, you did! You’re so much hotter in bed than she is.”
“I know, White Daddy! I have her blushing when I tell her about things I do to dicks and how y’all fuck me!”
“Really?!?!? That’s so hot!”
“If she only knew her man was one of them.”
“She’d fuckin’ die. She’d kill me first, but she’d die,” Brad grunted.
He put Bentley on the bed. The hostess lay on his side with his tail sticking off the edge. Brad slid back in. “Oh fuck, Bentley. I love fuckin’ your faggit ass. I just know I’m fuckin’ a sissy boi when I’m with you!”
“That’s how you like it, White Daddy?”
“Mmhmm! Faggoty. Fruity. Horny for dick all the time!”
“We’re a match made in heaven.”
“I would’ve married you back in ancient times.”
“That’s hot! Hell, if Tisha ever leaves me, I’ll gay marry you now!”
“I’m such a homewrecker. I be doing her hair and thinking about this big White dick!”
“Ahhhhhh fuck! Dayyyyyyyuuuuuum!”
Brad busted hard.
“Shit, baby! That was great,” he advised after rinsing off before leaving.
The next week, Brad went to his occupational therapy appointment. His ailment seemed to be improving.
“All right, Mr. Hunt! We’re done. Need anything else,” Ali checked.
“My pumpkin pilaf.”
“I didn’t forget. I’ll go warm it up. We can eat in the courtyard if that’s okay.”
“Uhhhh. Why not? I got some time.”
At the picnic table, Ali spooned out a helping for Brad. “Hope you like it.”
Brad took a bite of the ethnic dish. “Wow, Ali!”
“What?”
“This is delicious! What all is in ti?”
“It’s just the basmati rice, pumpkin, almonds, and butter.”
“There’s something more. The seasoning is interesting.”
“Oh. Saffron, salt, a little sugar.”
“This is amazing!”
“I’m glad you like it,” smiled Ali.
“You’re pretty cool.”
“Thank you! I think you’re cool too.”
“You boyfriend’s not gonna jump out and kill me, is he?”
“What boyfriend,” snickered the chef.
“I dunno. You might have some Russian KGB man lurking in the shadows. Or, some Persian jihadist.”
Brad killed himself with his humor. Ali just looked at him then started giggling.
“If I did have a boyfriend, I’d want him to be just like you,” Ali shared.
“Seriously,” checked Brad.
“Totally.”
“But why,” Brad snarled his face.
“You’ve got a great body. You’re funny and sweet.”
“Thanks,” he blushed. “Can you keep a secret?”
“Of course!”
“I like parking in the rear,” smiled Brad.
“What?”
“Butt sex. I like fags like you,” the father of two clarified.
“Fags like me?”
“Yeah. Real femme bottom boys!”
“That’s me!”
“No offense. The ones I’ve dealt with have been a little bigger than you.”
“You like chubs?”
“Nope. They’re mostly Black sissies. And all the ones I’ve ever been with had bigger butts.”
“So, I’m out of luck cause I’m a skinny white boy.”
“Don’t be mad! You’re cute.”
“Do you have Kik,” asked Ali.
“Yeah!”
“Let me add you. I can message you later. I’m gonna convince you to give me a shot.”
“Okay!”
That evening as Izzy retired to the her bedroom and Latisha did laundry, Brad sat in the living room checking out a basketball game along with Zay. His phone buzzed. It was a message from Ali. A slew of pictures of twink in various poses, articles of lingeries, and pantied. Brad asked if he had any jockstraps. Ali forward images of him wearing three different ones.
Brad wrote: -That’s the shit that turns me on.
-Come fuck me then.
-Can’t tonight.
-When, daddy?
-I don’t know.
-Don’t know about what.
-When I can get away. Maybe Sunday afternoon.
-That’ll work.
Brad oversaw a job near the end of the week at the strip mall Bentley owned. Bentley’s shop was there also. He went inside to discuss the months invoice.
“Hunt, let’s go in my office,” Bentley requested. “I feel like I paid some of these charges already.”
“Fine by me.”
“One minute, girl,” Bentley held up a finger to the client in the chair.
Brad did his best not stare at Bentley’s swaying log cutter. He could feel his cock growing. Bentley slammed the door and engaged the lock. He slid down and pulled out Brad’s dick. He sucked it with fury.
“Mmmmm, baby,” Brad whispered.
“Want a quickie, White Daddy?”
“Yeah, faggit!”
“Play some music on your phone.”
The first song on the playlist was ‘Kryptonite’ by 3 Doors Down.
Bentley stood and leaned against the wall. He stuck out his velvety smooth cherubic bum. He twerked it. The cheeks clapped.
“Fuck,” Brad said in a low voice. He went up in it. He pounded in a rude, unmerciful manner.
“Damn, White Daddy,” squeaked Bentley. “Fuck my bedussy!”
“Yeah! Gimme that pretty Black fag bedussy!”
Bentley gyrated to the beat.
Brad increased his tempo hammering perversely. He climaxed right before the song came to end.
“Ooh wee, Brad,” smiled Bentley. “I love that dick!”
They left the office.
“Thanks for clarifying. Sorry about the error,” Brad said aloud for the benefit of the other stylists and the customers. He exited.
On Sunday, Latisha and the k**s went to church. Bentley attended the same one. Brad had a good three hours alone. He decided to try this Azerbaijani sissy.
-You free?
-YASSSSS
-I got a couple of hours.
-Wanna hook up?
-Yeah. Send address.
Brad arrived half an hour later. Ali lived a roommate, but whomever it was in the other bedroom with the door closed. Ali’s bed was box spring and mattress sitting directly on the floor. Ali had some older daddy on younger twink porn playing on the screen.
“Is that what you think of me, Ali,” Brad’s laugh bellowed.
“No. But you ARE older than me.”
“I am. So what do you wanna do?”
“I wanna show you these.” Ali stepped out of his lounge clothes and only had on a purple and pink jockstrap.
“Perfect!”
Brad smacked the narrow, boyish arse. “You like that, faggit?”
“Yes, sir,” Ali cooed.
“Bend your ass over so Daddy can spank you!”
Ali shimmied side to side as Brad slapped his smooth, bony ass over and over.
“You got me about tuck you little sissy ass.” WHAP! “You’re hot a little fag for my big dick, aren’t you?” WHAP!
“Yes, sir,” cooed Ali.
“Put it in your mouth!”
Ali opened wide.
“Oh shit, fag! You deepthroat! Fuck yeah!” Brad savored it as long as he could. “Turn around and give me that boipussy. I don’t have all day!” He entered the pink hole.
“Braaaaaaad,” whined Ali. “It’s so big!”
“You can take it, boi! Relax! Ease back on it!”
Ali pushed backwards. “Owwwww!”
“That’s it! Inch by inch! Mmmmm! It’s tight, fag,” he put the back of the jockstrap in his fist.
“Yes, daddy!”
Brad pulled him all the way on it. “I’m balls deep now!”
“Oh shit!”
Brad started pumping. He was tender at first. As he felt Ali’s anus open, he went harder. “That’s it, Ali! Take this dick! Take it like that faggit you are!”
“I’m your little twink, daddy!”
“Yeah! My tinky-winky little boi!”
“How is it?”
“Great faggit!”
Pfffftttt. Pfffftttt.
“First time in a skinny boi hiney and it’s talkin’ to me! Take this dick!”
Brad thew Ali up on the bed and fucked him missionary. “You like this big White dick, huh?”
“Yes, sir! I love it, Brad! Fuck me!”
“Your pussy is tight!”
“You’re so big! Damn,” Ali farted some more.
“That shit turns me on.”
“You’re opening me up!”
“Yeah! I got you open. Straight pussy!”
Brad pile drove his dick up Ali’s sphincter. He let a load go deep inside the rectum.
He cleaned up and drove home.
He was there waiting when the wife and k**s returned.
Bradley Hunt had been rear-ended a couple of months ago causing this injury, He was now going to the Naval Health Clinic Charleston weekly to rehabilitate his shoulder. Fortunately, he had missed very little pay because he owned a landscape design firm and a Little Caesars pizza franchise.
“How does that feel,” the slender, brown-eyed, blond-haired healthcare worker asked.
“Not too bad,” squinted the rather in-shape man.
“Your face tells me otherwise, Mr. Hunt.”
“Am I that ugly,” he chuckled.
“On the contrary. I just want to make sure we’re rehabilitating your injury correctly.”
“You’re fine. Call me Brad.”
“Thanks!”
“Can I ask you a personal question,” the small businessman inquired.
“You already did,” giggled the employee.
“You got jokes.”
“Sure! I am going to reserve the right not to answer.”
“Not a problem,” his foghorn laugh appearing again. “Where’re you from?”
“I moved here from Philadelphia.”
“You ever lived anywhere else? Maybe out of the country?”
“I figured that’s what you meant. I grew up in Azerbaijan.”
“Damn! That’s a long ways!”
“Do you know where it is,” quizzed the civilian.
“I know it’s like European. I think. Former Soviet, right?”
“Yes. It used to be a part of the Soviet Union. It’s more in Asia though.”
“Oh cool. It’s right on the Caspian sea. By Iran.”
“You ain’t no terrorist, are you,” buckled over.
“No,” the worker’s eyes narrowed.
“Again. I’m yankin’ your chain.”
“It’s okay.”
“Excellent,” Brad remarked. “My wife says I’m just annoying, you know?”
“Not really. Feeling any better?”
“Yeah! This is good! I grew up around here mostly.”
“Very nice! Then you joined the Navy.”
“Yep! But when I was 7 through 12, we lived in South Africa.”
“Interesting. What was there?”
“My folks spent five years as missionaries there.”
“Sounds like an interesting experience.”
The assistant turned toward the table and made some notes. “Okay, sir! We’re all done. Need anything else?”
“Nope! I’m good.”
“I’m going to give you my cell number in case you have any questions or anything. Cool?”
“Great! Let me grab my phone.” Brad punched in the digits.
“Call anytime.”
“Anytime?”
“Anytime.”
Brad left the and went out to the parking lot. He started the work truck and drove across town to an upscale community whose homeowners’ association had contracted with his landscape company. Things appeared to be going well. He got out and chatted with one of his formen briefly. Most of his employees were Hispanic - Mexican and Guatemalan. There were a few Blacks and a couple of White guys too.
Brad shot the shit with the guys momentarily before excusing himself. He had to get home to get changed. It was the opening night of the middle school musical ‘Annie Jr.’ in which his 12 year-old daughter had a major role as ‘Lily’. He rushed as quickly as he could. Suddenly a car crossed into his lane and he had to jerk the wheel. “Fuck,” he yelled as felt a sharp sensation in his shoulder. “Goddamn!”
He made it home and pulled in the driveway. He rotated his shoulder mentally to ease the agitation. He took out his phone and made a call.
“Hello! This is Ali.”
“Ali. Brad Hunt here!”
“Hey, Mr. Hunt. Everything okay?”
“Well, some idiot pulled out in front of me and…”
“You didn’t get in another accident, did you?”
“No, No. Nothin’ like that. I just jerked my steerin’ wheel and well...I guess I pulled too hard and got some sharp pain.”
“Sorry to hear that. Try icing it up for a few then doing the exercise we practiced today.”
“Okay! Thanks!”
“I’ll check on you later to make sure all is well.”
“Alright!”
Brad went into the lovely 2266-square-foot, two-story, house with country yellow engineered wood siding, hunter green shutters on the windows, and a wrap-around porch. He walked up the stairs and into the master suite. He undressed and started the shower. He washed up scrubbing the workday from his well-chiseled, 15% body fat, physique. He toweled off and brushed his teeth. He trimmed his full, stylish, tapered beard. He doused his face with aftershave. Then, he put gel in his ash-brown hair to spike it.
The 37 year-old went into the large walk-in closet he shared with his wife. Latisha had commandeered darn near four-fifths of it. But, he didn’t care. When it came to fashion, he was a simple man. Or as simple as the kindergarten teacher would let him be. He pulled down the outfit she had preselected for him - a lightweight blue sweater to be worn over a white button down with a matching blue tie, fitted khaki pants, and chestnut brown wingtip dress boots.
He cleaned up nicely. He knew he wasn’t an ugly dude. But, he still didn’t quite see what women saw in him. He was usually oblivious to their flirting, but Latisha was not. She could shoot a glare at a woman encroaching on her husband inappropriate that clearly indicated she would ‘cut a bitch’.
Both Brad and his older brother, married outside of their race. Kevin had tricked a super smart woman who was half-Korean, half-Filipina down the aisle. And, Brad had been infatuated with Latisha since the first time he saw her in the 7th grade. She had luxurious, glistening cool brown skin to this day, big doe eyes, and a shapely butt. The two became high school sweethearts. They were on-again-off-again while she was in college and he was in the Navy. After serving six years, he came back home to Charleston and promptly proposed. Now, they had twins, Isaiah and Isabella.
Brad started up the muted red, base model 2014 GMC Yukon and backed out of the driveway. He drove to the school. Latisha would meet him there along with their son. Also, attending would be his parents. Latisha’s mom and stepfather were coming along with her dad and stepmother. Plus her Granny Gee.
He stopped off to get a bouquet for his daughter real quick.
The production went very well. Brad recorded sections with his phone in one hand while he held Latisha’s with the other. Of course, the cast received a standing ovation from adoring friends and family. Everyone told Isabella what a great job she had done. Brad hugged her and gave her the flowers.
“Thanks, dad,” the starlet beamed.
“You’re were great, pumpkin!”
They all posed for pictures. Latisha had been in charge of the cast party. The were light hors d'oeuvres, punch, and cake. They mingled. Brad flirted with Granny Gee. He acknowledged all four of Latisha’s parents.
“Hey, son,” the retired guidance counselor said.
“Hey, dad! How the hell are ya?”
“Fine!”
“Hey, mom!”
“Hi, Brad,” she kissed him. “Wasn’t Izzy just wonderful?”
“Yes, she was!”
Brad’s phone vibrated. He stepped away. “Hello!”
“Brad. It’s Ali. Is your shoulder better?”
“I didn’t ice it yet, but I took a cold shoulder. It’s li’l better.”
“Okay!”
“Look. Thanks for callin’, but I’m at my daughter’s play. I’ll touch base later.”
While he was away from everyone, he checked a messaging app he had downloaded. He tapped the one for Bentley Stafford. Bentley was a residential and commercial landscaping client plus Latisha’s hairdresser. Bentley was also taking Brad’s crazy bulky, seven-and-a-half-inch cock up the poop shoot of his eye-catching, pliable, rotund booty.
Brad fired off a message.
-Hey. At Izzy’s play
-Oh snap! How she do?
-Great! Tisha invited me to day performance for the student body tomorrow.
-You going?
-Hell yeah! Think I can see after it tomorrow?
-Yeah! We can work something out. Gotta run.
Brad rejoined the others.
The Hunts made it back to their home on Osprey Lane. Latisha began barking at the k**s about homework as she started slipping out of the pinstripe V-neck tie-front Antonio Melani dress. Bran followed he up the stairs unbuckling his pants and studied bottom. He smacked it playfully. “Boy, quit,” Latisha giggled.
“They gotta do their homework. You know they’ll stay downstairs. Come on,” he whispered loudly.
“Fine,” she relented.
Brad was correct. Izzy washed her stage makeup off in the laundry room sink.
Zay made himself a roast beef & turkey sandwich, piled on some chips, and then sat down to start his homework. His slightly younger sister ended up across from to do hers.
Upstairs, Brad was getting his dick sucked. He was careful not to touch Latisha’s hair. He ate her out which caused her to bite the pillow to keep the k**s from hearing. He climbed on top and entered her. “Oh, Tisha!”
Latisha was not very vocal. But, she was no corpse. She moved her body taking his manhood with submissive eagerness. Her manicured nails dug into his lean, sturdy back and his macho, muscular glutes.
“Yeah, baby! You’re so hot! I love your ass and your titis, baby!”
She smiled and stared into his blue eyes.
“I love you, Latisha! God, I’ve always loved you!”
“I love you too, baby,” the woman kissed him.
“Oh shit, baby,” Brad bucked up. Dayyyyyyyum!”
The libertarian-leaning man filled her up with his seed. He rolled over on the bed spent.
Latisha hopped up and went to clean herself up. She wafted some air freshener to kill the sex smell. Then, she went downstair to make sure her offspring were progressing appropriately.
The next day, Bentley messaged Brad off and on. They planned to meet as soon as the musical ended. The rendezvous spot would be Bentley’s house.
Meanwhile, Ali called back.
“Hey, Ali,” Brand answered.
“How’s it going, Brad?”
“Pretty good! Thanks!”
“Okay excellent!”
“What’s that beepin’?”
“A microwave,” laughed the slender guy. “ I’m having an early lunch. I’m starving.”
“What’d you bring us,” he chortled.
“Borani plov?”
“Do what?”
“It’s an Azerbaijani dish. In English it’s called pumpkin pilaf.”
“Never had it. Sounds good though.”
“I’ll make some for you when you come in next week.”
“You better not forget. I’ma text you to remind you.”
“Please do.”
“Enjoy your lunch!”
Brad finished a client consult and hopped in the 2015 Chevy Silverado 1500 double cab work truck. He sped over to Bentley’s area of town. He waited. Ten minutes later, the cosmetologist showed up in his silver 2016 Ford Mustang GT. Brad got out and walked into the garage.
“Hey, sexy,” Bentley mused.
“Hey, pretty faggit! How was the play.”
“Izzy was fabulous,” exaggerated Bentley. “Simply fierce,” snapped his fingers three times accenting each syllable.
“Yeah! That ass looks fierce in them shiny leggings.”
“Oh! These old things?”
Bentley and Brad went to master bedroom.
“I love your fuckin’ hair, Bentley,” Brad admitted.
“Thank you, sweetie!”
“Yeah! It’s just so faggoty like that!”
“You really like it,” checked the salon owner as he showcased the neon pink colored close-cropped fade.
“Hell yes! And those multi colored fruity nails. That red lipstick. Those fake eyelashes. My dick just gets so hard for you!”
“Well, give it to me!”
Bentley had douched this morning and not eaten. He was about three inches shorter than Brad coming in at 5’8”. He had a 30-waist and his supple donk measured 37-inches. He pulled down the shimmering leggings revealing a white jockstrap made of a nylon and lycra blend so it looked like a lace design. His even skin had a jewel tone underneath its pecan veneer.
“Whoa, baby,” Brad opined as he smacked the booty. Bentley’s butt responding by shaking. “I love how you told me about that pro football player that paid for you get your ass pumped when you was in college. Shit just turns me on so much! And your ass is so fuckin’ soft, man! Come and suck my dick, Bentley!”
Bentley knelt down and put the girthy rod in his mouth. His juicy painted lips work back and forth on the shaft.
Brad grabbed Bentley’s head. “See, I can’t touch my wife’s hair, but I can be all over yours, faggiit!”
“That’s why faggots are better, White Daddy!”
“Oh, I’m your White Daddy?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Then let White Daddy fuck your pretty Black ass!”
Bentley turned around and tooted his chonka lonka in the air. Brad angled his cock downward and went inside.
“Damn, White Daddy,” winced Bentley.
“You can take it, faggit,” Brad encouraged him.
“Oh yes,” the sassy bottom pushed back on it.
“Mmhmm, sissy! That’s a good li’l faggit!”
“You like fucking my dump truck booty?”
“Hell yeah! You’re one helluva sexy fag!”
“Fuck me! I love your big White dick!”
“I love this ass! You’re so fagtastic! Look at that. Your ass just jiggles, baby!”
Bentley crawled forward. “You like this boipussy?”
“You know I do,” Brad grab the back of the jockstrap. “Get your fruity tooty kabooty back here!”
Bentley put his face on the floor keep his ass high. “Mmmmmm. Oh yes, White Daddy!”
“It’s gettin’ creamy, faggit!”
“Mmhmm! You Stroke this faggot rump!”
“Hell yeah!”
“I done made Tisha’s sexy ass White husband, my rectum ranger!”
“Yeah, you did! You’re so much hotter in bed than she is.”
“I know, White Daddy! I have her blushing when I tell her about things I do to dicks and how y’all fuck me!”
“Really?!?!? That’s so hot!”
“If she only knew her man was one of them.”
“She’d fuckin’ die. She’d kill me first, but she’d die,” Brad grunted.
He put Bentley on the bed. The hostess lay on his side with his tail sticking off the edge. Brad slid back in. “Oh fuck, Bentley. I love fuckin’ your faggit ass. I just know I’m fuckin’ a sissy boi when I’m with you!”
“That’s how you like it, White Daddy?”
“Mmhmm! Faggoty. Fruity. Horny for dick all the time!”
“We’re a match made in heaven.”
“I would’ve married you back in ancient times.”
“That’s hot! Hell, if Tisha ever leaves me, I’ll gay marry you now!”
“I’m such a homewrecker. I be doing her hair and thinking about this big White dick!”
“Ahhhhhh fuck! Dayyyyyyyuuuuuum!”
Brad busted hard.
“Shit, baby! That was great,” he advised after rinsing off before leaving.
The next week, Brad went to his occupational therapy appointment. His ailment seemed to be improving.
“All right, Mr. Hunt! We’re done. Need anything else,” Ali checked.
“My pumpkin pilaf.”
“I didn’t forget. I’ll go warm it up. We can eat in the courtyard if that’s okay.”
“Uhhhh. Why not? I got some time.”
At the picnic table, Ali spooned out a helping for Brad. “Hope you like it.”
Brad took a bite of the ethnic dish. “Wow, Ali!”
“What?”
“This is delicious! What all is in ti?”
“It’s just the basmati rice, pumpkin, almonds, and butter.”
“There’s something more. The seasoning is interesting.”
“Oh. Saffron, salt, a little sugar.”
“This is amazing!”
“I’m glad you like it,” smiled Ali.
“You’re pretty cool.”
“Thank you! I think you’re cool too.”
“You boyfriend’s not gonna jump out and kill me, is he?”
“What boyfriend,” snickered the chef.
“I dunno. You might have some Russian KGB man lurking in the shadows. Or, some Persian jihadist.”
Brad killed himself with his humor. Ali just looked at him then started giggling.
“If I did have a boyfriend, I’d want him to be just like you,” Ali shared.
“Seriously,” checked Brad.
“Totally.”
“But why,” Brad snarled his face.
“You’ve got a great body. You’re funny and sweet.”
“Thanks,” he blushed. “Can you keep a secret?”
“Of course!”
“I like parking in the rear,” smiled Brad.
“What?”
“Butt sex. I like fags like you,” the father of two clarified.
“Fags like me?”
“Yeah. Real femme bottom boys!”
“That’s me!”
“No offense. The ones I’ve dealt with have been a little bigger than you.”
“You like chubs?”
“Nope. They’re mostly Black sissies. And all the ones I’ve ever been with had bigger butts.”
“So, I’m out of luck cause I’m a skinny white boy.”
“Don’t be mad! You’re cute.”
“Do you have Kik,” asked Ali.
“Yeah!”
“Let me add you. I can message you later. I’m gonna convince you to give me a shot.”
“Okay!”
That evening as Izzy retired to the her bedroom and Latisha did laundry, Brad sat in the living room checking out a basketball game along with Zay. His phone buzzed. It was a message from Ali. A slew of pictures of twink in various poses, articles of lingeries, and pantied. Brad asked if he had any jockstraps. Ali forward images of him wearing three different ones.
Brad wrote: -That’s the shit that turns me on.
-Come fuck me then.
-Can’t tonight.
-When, daddy?
-I don’t know.
-Don’t know about what.
-When I can get away. Maybe Sunday afternoon.
-That’ll work.
Brad oversaw a job near the end of the week at the strip mall Bentley owned. Bentley’s shop was there also. He went inside to discuss the months invoice.
“Hunt, let’s go in my office,” Bentley requested. “I feel like I paid some of these charges already.”
“Fine by me.”
“One minute, girl,” Bentley held up a finger to the client in the chair.
Brad did his best not stare at Bentley’s swaying log cutter. He could feel his cock growing. Bentley slammed the door and engaged the lock. He slid down and pulled out Brad’s dick. He sucked it with fury.
“Mmmmm, baby,” Brad whispered.
“Want a quickie, White Daddy?”
“Yeah, faggit!”
“Play some music on your phone.”
The first song on the playlist was ‘Kryptonite’ by 3 Doors Down.
Bentley stood and leaned against the wall. He stuck out his velvety smooth cherubic bum. He twerked it. The cheeks clapped.
“Fuck,” Brad said in a low voice. He went up in it. He pounded in a rude, unmerciful manner.
“Damn, White Daddy,” squeaked Bentley. “Fuck my bedussy!”
“Yeah! Gimme that pretty Black fag bedussy!”
Bentley gyrated to the beat.
Brad increased his tempo hammering perversely. He climaxed right before the song came to end.
“Ooh wee, Brad,” smiled Bentley. “I love that dick!”
They left the office.
“Thanks for clarifying. Sorry about the error,” Brad said aloud for the benefit of the other stylists and the customers. He exited.
On Sunday, Latisha and the k**s went to church. Bentley attended the same one. Brad had a good three hours alone. He decided to try this Azerbaijani sissy.
-You free?
-YASSSSS
-I got a couple of hours.
-Wanna hook up?
-Yeah. Send address.
Brad arrived half an hour later. Ali lived a roommate, but whomever it was in the other bedroom with the door closed. Ali’s bed was box spring and mattress sitting directly on the floor. Ali had some older daddy on younger twink porn playing on the screen.
“Is that what you think of me, Ali,” Brad’s laugh bellowed.
“No. But you ARE older than me.”
“I am. So what do you wanna do?”
“I wanna show you these.” Ali stepped out of his lounge clothes and only had on a purple and pink jockstrap.
“Perfect!”
Brad smacked the narrow, boyish arse. “You like that, faggit?”
“Yes, sir,” Ali cooed.
“Bend your ass over so Daddy can spank you!”
Ali shimmied side to side as Brad slapped his smooth, bony ass over and over.
“You got me about tuck you little sissy ass.” WHAP! “You’re hot a little fag for my big dick, aren’t you?” WHAP!
“Yes, sir,” cooed Ali.
“Put it in your mouth!”
Ali opened wide.
“Oh shit, fag! You deepthroat! Fuck yeah!” Brad savored it as long as he could. “Turn around and give me that boipussy. I don’t have all day!” He entered the pink hole.
“Braaaaaaad,” whined Ali. “It’s so big!”
“You can take it, boi! Relax! Ease back on it!”
Ali pushed backwards. “Owwwww!”
“That’s it! Inch by inch! Mmmmm! It’s tight, fag,” he put the back of the jockstrap in his fist.
“Yes, daddy!”
Brad pulled him all the way on it. “I’m balls deep now!”
“Oh shit!”
Brad started pumping. He was tender at first. As he felt Ali’s anus open, he went harder. “That’s it, Ali! Take this dick! Take it like that faggit you are!”
“I’m your little twink, daddy!”
“Yeah! My tinky-winky little boi!”
“How is it?”
“Great faggit!”
Pfffftttt. Pfffftttt.
“First time in a skinny boi hiney and it’s talkin’ to me! Take this dick!”
Brad thew Ali up on the bed and fucked him missionary. “You like this big White dick, huh?”
“Yes, sir! I love it, Brad! Fuck me!”
“Your pussy is tight!”
“You’re so big! Damn,” Ali farted some more.
“That shit turns me on.”
“You’re opening me up!”
“Yeah! I got you open. Straight pussy!”
Brad pile drove his dick up Ali’s sphincter. He let a load go deep inside the rectum.
He cleaned up and drove home.
He was there waiting when the wife and k**s returned.
Maddie
- 22.02.2021
- 27
- 0
