Manhandled (36 page)

The water rippled over his broad shoulders, sluiced down his back, and converged in the deep chasm between the snowy mounds
of his tiny ass. He shuddered as my tongue scouted the edge of the musky crevice.

“Oh, God, you can’t do that! Not there!”

“Shh, it’s OK.” I wriggled my tongue between the tightly clamped muscles. My hands cupped his ass, kneading the solid spheres.

He groaned, spreading his legs to give me the access I desired. My tongue rolled over the quivering ring, then slid down to
lap his furry balls. Teasing him with my fingers, I circled the throbbing pink whorl. He moaned when I worked a finger inside,
and his sphincter grabbed me and held tight when I tried to slip it out. By the time I had two fingers inside him, he was
clawing the tiles and humping furiously.

Dropping my bloated cock between his cheeks, I drove it up the tight trench. He pushed back against me. “You like that, huh?”
I asked.

“Oh, yeah!”

Eager for more, he wriggled his butt, sliding it up and down my rigid shaft. It must have looked obscene—the way his hot butt
was waggling and pumping my dick— but it felt wonderful. I grabbed his hips and started some serious humping.

He squeezed his cheeks together, creating an exquisite friction. I was lost in the sensations and the sounds of hot man-sex:
the wet slap of flesh against flesh as my thighs thudded against his, the gentle gurgle of cool water over our hot bodies,
the excited panting of two men in heat, the zing of a man’s zipper opening—

What the fuck? Neither of us was wearing anything with a zipper. I froze, listening, but all I could hear was Hank’s heart
thudding against my ear. Then I heard it: the unmistakable sound of a man beating his meat.

“Someone’s watching us,” I whispered in Hank’s ear.

“Huh? Oh, OK. I read about that. Whatever makes you hot.”

“No, you idiot. He’s really there.” I was ready to hit him.

“Sure. What’s he wearing?” Hank asked in a sexy voice.

“I’m wearing an Armani shirt in shades of cream and cinnamon, winter-wheat linen slacks, and a pair of Mauri loafers.”

Hank moved so fast, I slid off his back and fell in the water. He came to an abrupt halt two steps away from the intruder.
Standing at the edge of the pool was a tall, elegantly dressed man with a very big cock protruding from his open slacks and
a very big gun protruding from his fist.

“But enough about me,” he said. “Please go back to what you were doing. I insist.”

“That gun pointed at my gut doesn’t exactly put me in the mood.”

“I’m sure your friend can rectify the situation.” He waved his gun at me. “Get down on your knees and give your giant companion
a hand—or a mouth.”

I glanced up at the pile of our clothes. Our guns were concealed underneath, but we’d never reach them in time. “Who the fuck
are you?” He was a good-looking guy, whoever he was. Curly black hair, handsome face, slim build.

“Please,” he said with a gracious smile when he saw my hesitation. “I must insist.”

There’s no arguing when a big dick or a big gun is aimed straight at you. My mind raced as I slowly obeyed. The guy was so
relaxed and sure of himself, he had to be some kind of a pro. An amateur burglar would have been nervous and certainly wouldn’t
have been so damned polite. Unless the guy was a total nutcase. What kind of thief stops to jerk off?
A damned horny one,
I thought as I watched his dark red cock jump. The guy himself didn’t move an inch.

I knelt before Hank. His cock hung limply over his balls, but it was still swollen and a fat pearl of precum clung to the
gaping slit. I gave his cock a few halfhearted licks while I tried to formulate a plan. The warm musk rising from his balls
was inviting, and I licked the sweat off the long strands of silky hair. In spite of myself, I started to get aroused again.

“Yeah, that’s it. Lick those big rocks,” the man said.

It was exciting, in a perverse sort of way, knowing that someone was watching. He was really getting into this. If we could
distract him enough, we could jump him when he was ready to cum. If we didn’t do something fast, those alarms were going to
go off in fifteen minutes, and I sure as hell didn’t want to try explaining this.

I tried to signal Hank, rolling my eyes and jerking my thumb at the guy behind us. Hank nodded and winked at me. I sure hoped
he understood.

I bobbed my head up and down with exaggerated vigor and made lots of loud, slurpy noises like I was really getting into it.
Trouble is, I was.

Hank grabbed my head, crammed his prick down my throat, and started pumping with so many “Oh yeah’s,”

“Oh shit’s,” and “Suck my big fucking cock’s” that I knew he must have watched at least one porn video—he had the raunchy
talk down pat.

I don’t know about the thief, but he had me convinced. I pistoned up and down his huge rod eagerly. I loved the slippery heat
and bulk of it as it glided over my tongue, thumped against my palate, and coasted right down my open throat. I liked it so
much, I forgot about our audience.

When Hank pulled back, I wrapped my hands around his ass and gulped his cock back down. He had to hit his fist against my
shoulder before I remembered. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the burglar choking his dick with both hands. His knees
were quivering and his head was thrown back as he came.

Hank and I tackled him. We wrestled around in the bushes for a few minutes; he must have known how to fight because he got
in a couple of good ones. He toppled Hank with some kind of karate chop, knocking him right on top of me and pinning me beneath
his weight. I tried to wriggle free. Something hard was jabbing me in the back and it was hard to breathe with all of Hank
on top of me. He groaned and rolled off me.

“Are you OK?”

“Yeah, let’s get the bastard!”

As I started to get up, my hand touched the object that had poked me in the back—the guy’s gun. By the time we got to our
feet, the thief was already fleeing down the corridor, his limp cock bouncing up and down with each step.

“Stop or I’ll shoot,” I yelled. When he kept running, I pulled the trigger to fire a warning shot. Nothing happened. Shit,
the damned thing wasn’t even loaded.

Hank and I streaked down the hall after him, arms pumping, dicks bobbing, feet slapping the floor. I pulled ahead and bore
down on the thief just as he was passing the display of exercise equipment. Suddenly, there was a crash like thunder and I
was trying to keep on my feet beneath an avalanche of sports drink cans from the Tower of Power.

My feet went out from under me. I landed flat on my ass. By the time Hank helped me up, the bastard was out of sight.

“Come on, let’s go get him!” I said. “He has to still be here. The door alarm didn’t go off.”

“He didn’t trip it when he came in; he probably left the same way.”

“Maybe he was hiding when the mall closed.”

“I don’t think so. He wouldn’t have stayed in hiding that long after the place was locked up.”

“
Now
what the fuck are we going to do? We have to report this in case he stole something.”

“The first thing we have to do is get to those alarms before—”

“INTRUDER ALERT! INTRUDER ALERT! SECURITY HAS BEEN COMPROMISED! POLICE ARE ON THE WAY!”

“Before
that,
” Hank finished. “Come on, we’ve got six minutes to get our clothes on and come up with some kind of story.”

We were really up to our asses in it, but as I watched the play of muscles in Hank’s backside, the only thing I regretted
was the interruption. We threw on our clothes as fast as we’d taken them off. When I bent over to pick up my gun belt, I spotted
a dark bag under the bushes.

“Holy shit, Hank! Look at this!”

Hank whistled as I poured the sparkling contents of the bag into my hand. Diamonds! Lots and lots of glittering diamonds.

“He robbed the Diamond Exchange Outlet. Nothing really big, but uncut stones are easy to fence, and there’s enough here to
pay both our salaries for several years.”

We looked at each other for a moment. I’m not sure what we would have done, but the cops came running in at that moment and
it was too late. I like to think we would have given them back anyway.

We were heroes for two weeks. And almost every night we had sex somewhere in the mall: in the pool, over the benches, on top
of the display cars. Hank had really loosened up.

A month later, we were out on our butts. The bastard came back and hit the Diamond Outlet again. But it wasn’t the second
robbery that got us fired. It was the damned video cameras they’d secretly installed that showed us fucking our brains out.

We were just grateful they didn’t find the note our thief had left:

“Damn, you two are hot! Keep it up!”

Attached to the note was a tiny package. Inside were two perfect diamonds. I don’t think they would have let us keep them.

A
USTIN
F
OXXE
is the former editor in chief of
Men
and
Freshmen,
the two bestselling gay male erotic magazines in America. He has co-edited four books in the acclaimed Friction series of
gay erotica and also edited the anthologies
Slow Grind
and
Three the Hard Way.
To find out about future projects or to enlist his help with a project of your own, contact Austin at [email protected]

Look for the Manhandled companion video series, bringing the hottest stories to life right before your eyes! Coming soon from
Erotic Fox Entertainment. For more information contact [email protected]

Backyard Brawl, T. Hitman © 2002

BMW Boys, Douglas © 2002

Cherry Pops, Daniel W. Kelly © 2002

Down in the Bayou, Jay Starre © 2002

Getting it Write, Dale Chase and Austin Foxxe © 2001

I’ll Do Anything, Troy M. Grant © 2002

Metro Heat, Cuauhtemoc Q. Kish © 2002

Night Moths in Acapulco, Cuauhtemoc Q. Kish © 2002

Pantsed, L.B. Fox © 2002

The Plan, Charles Alexander © 2002

The Interrogation, Jordan Baker © 2002

Grudge Match, Greg Herren © 2002

Bunkhouse Bruisers, Hank Arnold © 2002

The Sex Scene, Dave MacMillan © 2002

Sliding Home, by Mac O’Neill © 2002

Hands On, © 1995 Barry Alexander. First appeared in
Dummer Magazine
1995.

Hostage, © 1997 Barry Alexander. First appeared in
All the Right Places,
published by Bad Boy/Masquerade Press.

Diamonds in the Rough, © 1997 Barry Alexander. First appeared in
Mandate,
May 1997

Hunger Takes Over, © 1999 Thom Wolf. First appeared in
Men Magazine
(Specialty Publications) July 1999.

Critic’s Choice, © 2001 Karl Taggart. First appeared in
Men Magazine
(Specialty Publications) August 2001.

The Act, © 2000 Dale Chase. First appeared in
Men Magazine
(Specialty Publications) January 2000.

Fucked by the Foreman, © 2002 Colt Spencer. First appeared in a modified form as “The Sprinkler System” by Cage Crawford in
Men Magazine
(Specialty Publications) August 2002.

The Inquisition, © Dave MacMillan. Previously published in
Mandate
magazine in 1998.

By the Balls, © 2002 T.Hitman. First appeared as “Aggression Therapy” on amateurstraightguys.com.

Backyard Brawl, © 2002 T. Hitman. First appeared as “Group Grunt” on amateurstraightguys.com.

For the Asking, © 2001 David Wayne. First appeared in
Men Magazine
(Specialty Publications) in November 2001.

Wrong Number, © Bob Vickery. First appeared in
Men Magazine
(Specialty Publications) in September 1998.