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Jake 'n' Jimmy: Friday Night Fagbash
by Big Billy Dean
Poser Art by Greasepaint
(click on images to see larger versions)
They call the place The Rainbow Rodeo. It’s a cowboy bar for fags, where horny guys can get together and two-step the night away with other horny guys who just can’t wait to get into each other’s Levi’s. All night long, you see guys walking in and out of the place, dressed in blue-jeans and cowboy boots and cowboy hats and pearl-buttoned shirts unbuttoned to the navel. Most of them walk in alone; most of them walk out in pairs; most of them you’d never have guessed were fags if you hadn’t seen them there.
Tonight is the Kid’s twenty-first birthday. His first night of being able to drink legally, but hardly his first drink. He’s already an old pro, able to hold more liquor than anybody he knows and still look and sound completely sober. He’s a nice-enough looking guy, blonde, lean, and muscular, with kind of a dumb jock look about him and a stupid laugh that lowers his I.Q. about ten points or so.
Tonight’s his first night in a bar, and already the Kid’s hit the jackpot: a big, tall bodybuilder type wearing nothing but combat boots, green pants, and a green headband has offered to walk him home and tuck him into bed for the night. The Kid can’t believe his luck, and his cock is about ready to bust out of the front of his jeans.
The guy–-his name is Jake–-says they can go on over to his place. He only lives about two blocks away, he doesn’t have any roommates, and the neighbors are used to strange noises coming out of his apartment, so he and the Kid can go at it all night long and nobody’s gonna disturb them. The Kid stops at the pay phone outside the bar long enough to call and tell his brother, with whom he shares an apartment, that he’s hooked up with somebody and won’t be home tonight, or maybe all fucking weekend.
Jake leads the Kid around the back of the bar and into a long, dark alley. It’s a shortcut, he says. Plus, there’s nobody watching, so if he and the Kid wanted to just get down to it right there, they could. About halfway down the alley, Jake suddenly pins the Kid against the wall and begins kissing him. The Kid is surprised at first, but he quickly gets into it, moaning loudly as Jake rubs his big, powerful leg against the Kid’s crotch and pinches the Kid’s nipples between strong, vise-like fingers. He lets Jake take his shirt off, and doesn’t say a word when Jake crumples the shirt into a ball and throws it into a nearby dumpster.
Then the Kid hears a noise. It’s the sound of footsteps, and they’re really close. Jake hears it too, and pulls away quickly. They turn around just as a figure steps out of the shadows. The guy is about six inches taller than the Kid, a good three inches taller than Jake, and he seems to spend a lot of time in the gym too. He has a mean look about him, emphasized by the single gold hoop in his left ear, the half-smoked cigarette dangling from his mouth, and the brass knuckles decorating his right hand, and the bottle of beer in his left.
The Kid backs up a couple of steps and grabs Jake’s arm. “C’mon, Jake,” he says. “We’d better get the fuck outta here.”
But Jake just gives him a reassuring grin. “Don’t worry about it, Kid,” he says. “This prick ain’t gonna fuck with us. He knows I’d kick the livin’ shit outta him if he tried.”
“Yeah, right,” the guy with the brass knuckles growls. “You couldn’t kick the shit out of a kitten with the runs, you fuckin’ pansy.” He flicks his cigarette away and sets his bottle of beer down on the ground next to the wall before turning to face Jake again.
The guy advances a couple more steps, but Jake just folds his arms across his massive chest and stands his ground. The Kid backs up even further, until he backs into the dumpster. He looks about ready to run, but he’s trapped. He figures that if these two start beating the shit out of each other, he might have a chance to make a break for it. But if they didn’t kill each other, one–-or both–-of them might come looking for the Kid. The thought that he’s gotten himself into a situation he can’t get out of terrifies him, scares him into a petrified silence.
The two men circle each other for a long time, Jake looking confident and smug, the other guy tensed and ready to spring. Then, without any warning, Jake’s leg suddenly lashes out, his booted foot catching the other guy square in the stomach. The other guy practically flies back into the wall and slides to the ground. Jake steps forward and brings up his foot again, aiming for a devastating downward stomp to the groin. But just as his foot reaches the contact point, the other guy grabs it in his hands and flips Jake onto his back. With lightning quick reflexes, the guy is on his feet again, and in no time flat his own boot is planted on Jake’s neck, the other ready to grind Jake’s wrist into the asphalt.
“Say it,” the guy snarls. “Say it, or I’ll kill you where you lay.”
Jake’s voice comes out in a harsh rasp. “Okay, okay. You win. I’m the fuckin’ pussy, you’re the big swingin’ dick.”
This seems to satisfy the other guy, who steps back and watches, grinning from ear to ear, as Jake scrambles to his feet, rubbing his throat and wrist. “Fuck, man,” Jake says. “Where’d you learn those moves?”
“I’ve been practicin’,” the guy says. “I told you I’d beat you one of these nights.”
“Never thought I’d see the day,” Jake says.
“Well, now you have. And now it’s time for my payment.”
Jake’s face turns grim for a moment, then he nods. “Hey, Kid,” he says. “Get over here.”
The Kid moves slowly toward Jake, his eyes never leaving the other guy.
“It’s okay, Kid,” Jake says. “This here is Jimmy. He’s one of my best friends. Has been since we were just kids.”
“Friends?” the Kid asks, his eyes wide. “That didn’t fuckin’ look too friendly just now.”
“Aw, we never hurt each other,” Jimmy says. “It’s like a couple of wolf cubs. Wrestlin’, playin’ around.”
“Yeah,” Jake says. “You see, since we were in high school, we’ve always had this friendly rivalry thing goin’. Not over girls, not even over guys. It’s always about which one of us can take the other down. And I usually win.”
“That’s right,” Jimmy says. “So we started makin’ a little bet. You see, every Friday night Jake comes down here to the Rainbow Rodeo and picks up some hot-lookin’ young stud like you and takes him down this alley. About halfway down the alley, he stops and pins the guy up against the wall like he did to you, and while the two of them are goin’ at it, I step in. We beat the shit outta each other for a while, and if he wins, I run off and he gets to look like the hero. He takes the stud home and bangs him like there’s no tomorrow.”
The Kid is starting to feel sick to his stomach. He doesn’t much like the idea of being used as a trophy. “And what happens if you win, like you did tonight?” he says, his voice hoarse.
Jake wraps one of his powerful arms around the Kid’s shoulder. “Well, Kid, that’s the bad news. At least for you.”
“What do you mean?” the Kid squeaks.
Jimmy steps forward. “If I win, then Jake here has to give the stud to me. Let me have a little fun with him.”
“Sorry, Kid,” Jake says, seeing the stricken look on the Kid’s face. “It fuckin’ sucks, I know. But them’s the rules.”
“Fuck that,” the Kid says. He kicks Jake in the shin and starts to run, but before he can get very far, Jake grabs him and pulls both of the Kid’s arms behind his back.
“Goddamn, Jimmy,” Jake says, grinning. “We got ourselves a real scrapper here.”
“Fuck, yeah,” Jimmy says. “That’s the way I fuckin’ like ‘em.” He lights up another cigarette, then shifts the brass knuckles onto his left hand. He holds the hand up in front of the Kid’s face and says, “But I think by the time I’m finished with him, he’s not gonna have much fight left in him. What do you think, Jake?”
“I think you’re right, Jimmy,” Jake says. “He’s tough, but he ain’t tough enough to take what you got to dish out when you get goin’.”
Jimmy picks up his beer and takes another swig of it, then moves forward to look directly into the Kid’s eyes. “You think you can take a lot of pain, Kid?” he asks. “‘Cuz if you think you can, then think again.” He takes another swig of beer and says, “Rip his fuckin’ pants off, Jake.”
Jake grabs both of the Kid’s arms in one arm, and with his free hand grasps the waistband of the Kid’s jeans. He pulls down and back, and the denim comes away from the Kid’s body with a loud rip, leaving him naked except for his tennis shoes. While the Kid is still gasping in wonder at the ease with which Jake has shredded his jeans, Jimmy draws back his fist and plows the brass knuckles deep into the Kid’s gut.
The Kid is too surprised and too winded to scream, but his eyes bulge, and his mouth opens wide in an expression of pain and terror. While he is still trying to pull air back into his lungs, Jimmy pulls the Kid’s shoes and socks off and tosses them into the dumpster. Then, turning back to face the Kid, he pumps his knee twice into the Kid’s groin, landing two solid blows to the Kid’s nuts.
If it weren’t for Jake holding him up, the Kid would be in a heap on the ground by now. As it is, tears are streaming down his face, which is starting to turn pale as he continues to gasp for air.
The shots keep on coming. Two more to the belly, one to the chest, five to the balls, a slap across the cock, a couple of pinches to each nipple, a constant barrage of blows that don’t leave time for the Kid to react. For nearly ten minutes, Jimmy pummels the Kid. His own cock, stiffening before the first punch landed, is now like an iron rod in his pants.
Jake, watching as he holds the Kid in place, is just about ready to shoot his load, too. “Hey, Jimmy,” he says. “You mind if I fuck him while you do your thing?”
Jimmy grins. “Goddamn, Jake,” he laughs. “You’re one fuckin’ horny bastard, ain’t ya?” He nods. “Yeah, go ahead. Fuck the shit outta him, you know I don’t give a shit about that stuff. I just like beatin’ the shit outta them.”
Jake uses one hand to undo his zipper, and his enormous eleven-inch cock springs from his pants. Without bothering to go slow, he slams his prick deep into the Kid’s virgin asshole, grinning as a weak whimper escapes the Kid’s lips. He starts pumping slowly, pulling his cock almost all the way out of the Kid’s ass before ramming it back home with shattering force.
Jimmy watches his friend fuck the Kid for a few minutes, then says, “Keep goin’, man. But brace yourself.” And with that, he lashes out with his foot, the heel of his combat boot catching the Kid square in the testicles. The Kid’s head snaps back, and he shrieks.
“Goddamn, Jimmy!” Jake shouts. “Fuckin’ do that again! It makes the Kid’s fuckin’ ass tighten up like you wouldn’t fuckin’ believe!”
“My pleasure,” Jimmy replies. He aims kick after kick at the Kid’s balls, and before too long the Kid loses his voice and just continues to scream silently into the night. By the time he’s finished, the Kid’s nuts have swollen to the size of large grapefruits, and have turned a grotesque purple color.
“Fuck, Jimmy,” Jake says. “You really fucked him up good!”
“No shit,” Jimmy says. “Did you shoot your load?”
“Seven fuckin’ times,” Jake replies. “I’m fuckin’ beat.”
“Good,” Jimmy says. “Now it’s my turn. Put the little shit down on his knees.”
Jake lowers the Kid to the ground in front of Jimmy, who pulls out his own nine-inch rod. He grabs the Kid’s head and says, “Okay, fucker. Suck it.”
The Kid, barely conscious, manages to fit his mouth over Jimmy’s enormous cockhead and begins sucking on it. “No, you little shit!” Jimmy shouts. “Fuckin’ take the whole fuckin’ thing!” He grabs the Kid’s head and forces him down until he can feel the tip of his cock against the back of the Kid’s throat. The Kid is struggling a little bit now, choking on Jimmy’s prick, but Jimmy keeps fucking the Kid’s face violently, his balls making loud smacking sounds as they slap against the Kid’s chin. When he finally shoots his load, he shoots with such force that his cum explodes out of the Kid’s mouth around his dick, and his fists, clutching at the Kid’s head, come away with bloody clumps of blonde hair in them. When the last of his convulsions have died away, Jimmy pushes the Kid away. The Kid falls backward, the back of his head hitting the pavement with a sickening thud.
“Holy fuckin’ shit, man!” Jake says. “I think you fuckin’ killed him, Jimmy!”
Jimmy grins, his chest still heaving. “No shit, asshole!” he says. “What the fuck you think I was gonna do? Leave him around to tell people about it? Fuck that!” And with that, he starts to walk off into the shadows.
“Wait a fuckin’ minute!” Jake calls after him. “What the fuck am I supposed to do with his body?”
Jimmy returns from the darkness with an axe slung over each shoulder. He tosses one to Jake. “We got a dumpster,” he says. “I say we put the little cocksucker out with the fuckin’ trash.”
Jake stares at the axe in his hand and nods. “Fuck, Jimmy,” he says. “You always fuckin’ think of everything, don’t ya?”
“Fuckin’ ay,” Jimmy says. “Now, come on. Let’s get this guy taken apart so he’ll fit into that dumpster.”
Working together, Jake and Jimmy make quick work of severing the Kid’s head and limbs from his body. They stuff the parts into the dumpster, followed by the clothes.
“I only live a block away,” Jake says. “Even if someone does see us, ain’t nobody gonna fuck with us, that’s for damn sure.”
Jimmy hands Jake his half-empty bottle of beer and says, “Here, why don’t you do the honors.”
Jake grabs the neck of the bottle between his teeth and bites it off, holding the detached part of the bottle between his teeth. He then reaches for his last scrap of clothing–-his green headband–-and pours a little beer onto it, then pushes it down into the bottle, leaving a little sticking out like a wick. He hands the bottle to Jimmy, and they begin walking away from the dumpster.
“It’s really too bad you had to kill him,” Jake says. “He took a lot more than I thought he would.”
“Yeah,” Jimmy agrees. “He was a fuckin’ tough little bastard, I’ll say that for him.” He stops and reaches up into his asshole, pulling out a cigarette lighter. “What?” he says, reacting to Jake’s look. “I didn’t have any fuckin’ pockets, what the fuck else was I supposed to do?” Then he lights Jake’s bandanna and, with perfect aim, tosses the beer bottle into the dumpster. He and Jake stand there, arms around each other’s shoulders, and watch as the dumpster explodes into an enormous fireball, lighting up the alley–-and their naked, muscular forms.
“Hey,” Jimmy finally says. “The night’s still young. What do you wanna do now?”
“Why don’t you come back with me to my place?” Jake says. “I don’t think the Kid really finished suckin’ you off good and proper.”
Jimmy flashes him a grin. “I’ll tell you what,” he says. “You let me work out some of my frustrations on those fuckin’ melons you call your testicles, and I’ll let you do whatever the hell you want to my cock.”
Jake laughs as the two turn and head for the end of the alley. “Jimmy,” he says, “I think you’ve got yourself a fuckin’ deal.”
Story by Big Billy Dean
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