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Want Some Chocolate With Sprinkles?

whthole4u

By whthole4u
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whthole4u

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Want Some Chocolate With Sprinkles?: The thwump-thwump-thwump of Marine 1, the President’s helicopter and its two escorts, echoed down the river as it made its way to Andrews Air Force Base. I was walking home from work and approaching Banneker Overlook in Southwest, Washington, DC,  where I got a great view of the three choppers flying low, appearing to weave in and out of the numerous construction cranes at the river’s edge that marked the new Wharf Development. It was another hot and blistering day in DC – the 10th in a row in the high 90s and I was anxious to get home, get out of my sweat drenched work clothes, and relax with a cold drink by the air conditioner. As I descended the other side of the Overlook, I heard the musical chimes of one of the neighborhood’s ice cream trucks, although this one sounded like it was on its last leg – off tune, missing beats, and volume that faded in and out. A nice big ice cream cone sounded really good right about then and with this heat I bet they were doing a hell of a business.

 

I started along the sidewalk beside Maine Avenue, casually looking over the numerous tour buses that park there before venturing back out to pick up the latest flock of tourists. Near the end of the line of buses, parked by the largest shade tree on the block, was the ice cream truck I had heard earlier and I licked my lips in anticipation of a sweet treat. When I got closer I noticed a pair of boots and a pair of bare legs sticking out from the other side of the tree – legs that looked like mini-tree trunks themselves, thick, and sturdy. About 20 feet away I caught a whiff of a cigar, a strong one, and now noticed a light haze of smoke working its way around the tree and my curiosity grew. I slowed my pace, heard a manly cough, hack, then spit, a growl and “MOTHER FUCK!” repeated several times. The last one was being spat out as I rounded the tree and saw the man frantically brushing at his bare chest with his right hand while waving his left hand around with the cigar in in trying to keep his balance on the milk crate he was sitting on.

 

He saw me standing there, let out a long, low laugh and said, “About burned my nipple off – Jesus fucking Christ – been looking forward to this cigar all damn day – now look at that, singed my chest hair right off – fucking Christ.” I smiled, not sure what to say, and watched as he settled himself back on the crate, leaned against the ice cream truck and started puffing on his cigar again. I couldn’t help but stare as at this big black man, wearing nothing but a pair of boots and basketball shorts, sitting on the side of the street like he was King Shit. His hair was cut low and tight, and he had a nice thick beard, but the rest of him seemed fairly smooth, although it was hard to tell as his skin was a rich, dark ebony and any hair would have been matted down by the sheen of sweat that covered him. The boots he had on looked about size 13 and the cum pig bottom in me started to squeal OINK OINK. My eyes started to go back up his body and stopped – his left hand was now resting on his left thigh, a gold wedding band flashing brightly as his fingers rose up and down in motion like he was playing a piano. No, not a piano, a pipe, a big, long pipe, because I watched what was clearly a monster dick started to lengthen in his shorts and I was sure any moment the head would peak out like a newborn babe.

 

“Eyes up here,” the man said, breaking me out of my fantasy mind and embarrassing me that I got caught. “Even with those fucking shades on I can tell you eyeing my shit, so speak the fuck up. I ain’t got time for games, say what you want.” I was taken aback by his frankness and sputtered, “I uhh… ice cream… you know it’s hot as shit out here and I thought some ice cream would be good right about now.” The man continued to stroke his shaft with his fingers in rhythm to a tune only he could hear, or maybe it was in time with the hum of the ice cream truck’s motor that was running the cooler. He puffed on his cigar, grunted as he stood up, grabbed his milk crate, and walked to the back of the truck. “Well come on. I believe I got just what you’re looking for. I looked both ways up and down the sidewalk, nervous, but horny as hell and I wanted some dick, so I followed him to the back, grabbed the side, stepped up the two steps into the back of the ice cream truck and a little forward to make room for him to follow.

 

The back door closed, locked, I quickly looked to the front and saw the back end of one of the buses. The ice cream man laughed, “Don’t worry man. You scared? Naw I didn’t think so and no one can see. Anyways, my dudes being playing cards and shit and they know better than to bother me if the truck be rocking, you understand?” I nodded, hoping I did. “Last chance – say what you want,” he ordered. It was now or never so I straightened my shoulders back a little, took off my sunglasses, looked up into his dark eyes and said, “I want to suck your dick for you, then let you fuck me hard and rough and deep and blow your load up my ass.” The ice cream truck driver coughed, blowing cigar smoke out as he laughed. He shook his head, smiled, “Fuck yeah, that’s what I’m talking about,” he said, “So you trying to be a bitch for a big dick? Get those fucking pants off and let me see whatcha working with. I’m a man who likes a big old melon ass, not some little peach shit. Hot damn! That’s right, your ass got some meat to it, bend that shit over, time for a taste test.”

 

I finished stripping and bent forward over the ice cream cooler as the ice cream man started to paw at my ass cheeks. I rested my elbows on the cold steel of the cooler tops as he spread my cheeks open and started flicking his tongue side to side and up and down my ass crack. “Fuck me, fuck me,” I begged as his thick tongue found the edges of my hole.” He paused, inhaled deep, smacked his lips and said, “Oh fuck you bet I’m going to, but first I plan to taste all 31 flavors. Before we begin though, stand up.” I stood up, grabbed my now hard dick, and was beating it as I looked at his now naked body. OH MY GOD HIS DICK WAS HUGE! I wanted it so bad and asked him again to fuck me, but he ignored me, opened a cupboard on the other side of truck pulled out a box, then squatted down, reached in, pulled out two more boxes, stood up, then set the boxes on the other counter. He opened the first one, pulled out a leather collar and a thick chain and held it up. I tilted my head in question as he sucked on his cigar, set it back in an ashtray and said, “Bitches need to be chained up if they want to get mounted by the big dawg knot.”

 

I shivered a little as the cold links of the chain fell down my back and he laced the leather collar around my neck. Maybe now he would fuck me. But no. He looped the end of the chain through the handle on the ice cream cooler and padlocked it, opened the other boxes and started pulling out baggies of pills, marijuana, little vials and needles, and other shit I had no idea what it was. The next box he opened he pulled several aluminum foil wrapped bunches out, set them down, gently opened one, and a stack of money peered through. He then crossed in front of me, opened the cooler door on the end, reached down, stood up and said, “Bend over.” I did, my heart almost burst with joy as I was going to get fucked, but it was not his dick that pushed at my hole. I cried out as something very fucking cold and pointy forced its way into my ass, the cold making me clench my hole did not stop him. “Cum shouldn’t be wasted,” he said, “This is one of my nuttsicles – grade A, premium black beef, nutt. And that’s hardly half of what I shoot at a time. My balls fucking put out, which is good, because I like my bitches’ asses to be dripping and sloppy.”

 

My ass clenched and my guts shuddered from the inside out and the ice cream man just laughed. He then tossed a baggy of white powder on the cooler beside me, unwrapped one of his stacks of bills, snapped the rubberband off, slid a bill off the top and rubbed it between his hands a couple times, then rolled it into a little straw and handed it to me with the 100 mark showing. Holy fuck – if that whole stack was hundred dollar bills he must have thousands of dollars there! The ice cream man knew what I was thinking apparently as he chuckled, patted the stack and said, “What the fuck? You think I make stacks like this selling tootie fruity and fudge pops? You tripping. I got the best delivery service in town. Me and my boys sling dope, pills, juice, crack, whatever you need we got and if I don’t got it, I can get it. Cops don’t bother me none, I’m just the ice cream man you know? And on the streets, well no one fucks with me either as they know my boys and I pack firepower, but they also need what I bring to the table. See all these fucking buses? They come down here every day from New York City and shit and they sure don’t make their cash from hauling old blue haired tourists around. They haul what I need straight down 95. My shit’s the best. Now that you know the 411, snort some shit up because I’m about ready to bang you the fuck out!”

 

I looked at the baggy, looked at him, my ass clenched. “I’ve not done shit like that in a really long long time, I mean I don’t mind if you do, but I can’t. Work and all.” The ice cream man stepped closer, his right hip pressing against my side feeling hot like a furnace. He shook his head, grabbed the baggy, handed the 100 to me and said, “You WILL snort, sip, take whatever the fuck I say. I like fucking bitches that be high and we got a few hours before I have to meet my crew and make some deliveries, so be good, obey, and do what THE FUCK I SAY!” I nodded, took the baggy and 100 and hit the powder. FUCK THAT BURNED! “Other side too,” he said and then continued, “You won’t find Tina like that any place else in the city. I got the best shit.” He held up another bag, this one full of little shards and pieces, he pulled a chunk out, reached down and pushed it into the gaping piss slit in the head of his dick. “FUCK YEAH THAT’S A GOOD BURN,” he said, as he took another and plopped it under his tongue. He then grabbed two large chunks, turned me around, and using two fingers and his thumb shoved the shards into my chilled ass. Once they were just inside my hole he used his index finger to push them in further.

 

The ice cream man then spit on his dick, once, twice, and got it nice and slimy. He then took the bag of powder, pulled some out between his fingers and dribbled it over his wet dick. “Every big chocolate cone should have sprinkles on it, don’t you think? You like sprinkles? I want you to get down on your fucking knees and lick every sprinkle off my dick, don’t miss a one.” I had to adjust the collar and chain a little, but it was long enough so I could obey and soon I was slurping on his Tina covered dick like it was an XL Frosty at Wendys. “Let me hear you smack those lips on my meat, spit that shit up – now swallow those sprinkles – ha ha oh fuck, you got powdered lips now – good bitch cock sucker – bet that throat is nice and relaxed, you feeling the shit yet? Oh yeah, I can tell, you a greedy little cock sucker. Open your mouth, let me feel you wet the whole motha-fuckin thing. FUCK YEAH, REST MY BALLS ON YOUR CHIN – TRY SWALLOWING MY SHIT, WORK MY DICK WITH THAT THROAT!”

 

Drool was running out the sides of my mouth and as the Tina kicked in I was hungrier than ever and wanted more. I spat his dick out, stood up, panting hard as mouth juice ran down my chin and onto my chest. I looked at him all wild eyed and he stepped back, laughed, reached into a box and pulled out a plastic bottle. “This here is my home-made lube. We’re about to set that ass on fire! Bend over and show me how you want it.” I turned around, planted my hands firmly on top of the ice cream freezer, the chill of the cold steel in sharp contrast to the blazing inferno that began to spread from the tender edges of my asshole, deeper into my guts as the ice cream man fingered me hard and rough with his homemade lube. I started to pant, what the fuck was in that shit?

 

He dangled another baggy in front of me, “See these monster shards? I’ll plant a few more of these up, twirl it all up with my meat, and top that sunday off with some frothy whip cream and a busted cherry from that third hole!!” I started to push back and ride his fingers as he forced the shards of Tina deeper into me. Even though it felt like I was being blasted with rock salt, the high I was on overrode any common sense and told me the pain I was feeling was nothing compared to the joy to come.

 

“YOU WANT THIS DICK? WANT MY KNOT? LET ME HEAR YOU BEG FOR IT FUCKER. BEG TO GET FUCKED, BEG TO GET USED, BEG FOR MY CHOCOLATE NUTT,” the ice cream man said. I bounced my ass around and pushed it back as far as I could while still bending over the cooler. I begged, pleaded, and was frustrated as hell as my need to get fucked was overwhelming. The only warning I had he was ready was a quick “TAKE IT BITCH,” before the ice cream man pushed against my shivering hole and punched his dick head through my first ass ring, and started banging at the second like a warrior attacking a castle’s walls. “FUCKING CHRIST – THAT SHIT IS TIGHT – NOT FOR LONG THOUGH, GOING TO LOOSEN THAT HOLE, MAKE IT FLOWER, OPEN THOSE PUSSY LIPS THEN SPRINKLE IT WITH MY LUV AND LITTLE RAIN,” the ice cream man announced as he banged my ass. “SHUT UP, I DON’T NEED TO HEAR YOU TELLING ME HOW FUCKING GOOD MY DICK FEELS. I KNOW IT DOES. BITCHES SHOULD BE SEEN AND NOT HEARD SO JUST KEEP TRYING TO GRIP DOWN ON MY DICK SO I CAN BUST THOSE WALLS OUTWITH MY BIG, BLACK CANNON!”

 

The ice cream man fucked me hard, deep, and steady and I was fucking loving it. I was used to being verbal so it was tough having to keep my mouth shut, but the few moans and groans that escaped my Tina coated lips let him know I would take whatever he gave me. Even though I was laying face forward on the ice cream cooler, I was hot, sweating, and panting. The ice cream man was hot too and sweat poured off his thick body and dripped all over me as he continued to fuck my ass. After a while of hard fucking, he slowed his pace and said, “Fuck damn – feel that? I just gave you a bit of chem piss. That’ll kick in in oh about 2 or 3 minutes and your ass will start squirting like a porn pussy in not time. And you know what? By the times we’re through, you’re gonna walk out of here smelling like an old goat. A big old goat with nasty teeth, fucked up hooves, and shit and piss coated tail end.” He laughed hard at that, I didn’t get it but could have cared less as long as he kept fucking me.

 

My legs were getting tired, but my ass was hungrier than ever, and I grabbed onto the cross bar on the ice cream truck wall in front of me to help keep me standing. I guess it was actually the window counter that opened as every time the ice cream man bang fucked me into the cooler, the wall would pop out a little, only staying in place by hook latches on either side, but it was enough for me to get quick little views of sunlight and the sidewalk and every now and then a glimpse of one of the bus drivers standing by the bus in front of us and looking at the ice cream truck.

 

“READY FOR MY BLACK SYRUP? SOME CREAM IN THAT HOLE FOR THAT VANILLA SUNDAY? GONNA MAKE THAT BANA SPLIT FO SURE! I GOT IT FOR YOU – HERE IT FUCKING COMES – TAKE MY FUCKING CREAM YOU DICK HUNGRY FUCKER – OPEN THAT HOLE WIDE – GIVE IT TO ME – GIVE IT TO ME – THAT’S RIGHT – LET ME PUSH THOSE SPRINKLES INTO THOSE GUTS – AWW FUCK…AWW FUCK… HERE IT COMES…HERE IT COMES….HERE….IT….COOOMMMMESSSS…..!!!!”

 

The shivers that ran through the ice cream truck man travelled from his dick, up and through his body, back down through his dick and into my ass and exploded out through my limbs as his cum splattered my insides. He sighed, sucked in a couple deep breaths, then pushed himself off me and ripped his dick out of my pulsing hole. I begged for him to keep fucking me but he just slapped my ass, laughed, grabbed a handful of napkins from the dispenser on the side, and wiped his face and forehead off. He then kicked the milk crate on the floor to the side, plopped down on it with a grunt, took his cigar and lit it back up and leaned back. I stood up, twisting around in my collar and chain and eyed his wet and glistening dick. I needed more – had to have more! I stepped closer to try to stroke him or suck him and he said, “Back the fuck off. I’m done. Well done with that. Time to settle up. Toss me your fucking wallet.” What? All I could think about was dick and the ache in my ass. “You deaf? Jesus Christ,” he said he got up, grabbed my pants off the floor, pulled my wallet out of the back pocket, one at a time laid out the cash I had on the counter, shook his head in disgust, then pulled out one of my credit cards. He then stepped over to the cash register, ran my card through a small reader, typed in some numbers, smiled when it dinged approved, came back, stuck the card back in my wallet, scuffed up the cash and said, “You got to pay to play and my shit – between my legs and what you fucking snorted and took up your hole – ain’t free, you feel me?” I nodded, what else could I do? Right then I would have done anything.

 

“Get dressed and get the fuck out, I got things to do,” the ice cream man said as he unwound the chain from the cooler’s handle and released me from the collar. I rubbed my neck and practically pranced back and forth on tippy toes I was so fucking horny and high. He just smiled, laughed, and deflated me a bit when he said, “Look, you got some good ass, you was here, I was ready, it was business. Here’s my card. If you got the bank and need a delivery, I got boys who can roll through with anything on the menu – and I mean anything.” The last bit he emphasized by flapping his limp dick with his right hand. OK, I got it. I was high not stupid, so I started to get dressed as he did too. Stuffed my now empty wallet into my pants and looked at him one last time in hopes he had changed his mind. He just scowled, pointed at the back door, so I let myself out into the harsh light of the hot summer afternoon.

 

I was standing between the back of the ice cream truck and a bus that had pulled up behind us, trying to adjust myself and feeling fucking paranoid that I not only smelled like a goat, but looked like one too, when the ice cream truck’s motor revved, spat a stream of thick acrid smoke out the tail pipe, and beeped twice in warning. I hopped up on the curb as the ice cream truck backed up a few feet, pulled out, and drove away. My scattered thoughts were interrupted as someone coughed, I turned to the left and the driver of the bus that had parked behind the ice cream truck was now standing by the bus door, leaning slightly against it as he rubbed the bulge in the front of his pants. He had on large sun glasses so I could not see his eyes and he didn’t say a word, but his fingers and the growing shadow cast by his pants was all I needed to see.

 

“I hope you got some sprinkles,” I said as I purposely walked past him and climbed the steps up into the bus knowing my ass was ready to give him more than he bargained for. 

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whthole4u Fanatic

whthole4u

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Part 2: Want Some Chocolate Sprinkles? “Look, you got some good ass, you was here, I was ready, it was business. Here’s my card. If you got the bank and need a delivery, I got boys who can roll through with anything on the menu – and I mean anything.” Those were the last words the ice cream truck driver had said to me last summer; right after he had collared and chained me inside his truck, drugged me up on Tina, fucked me raw and rough, and bred me deep with his long, thick, black dick. The past several months I have planned work so I could take some leave and have one, long weekend a month where I would dial that number and place my order. The ice cream man’s voice was enough to make my ass cream, buried within the few words he would speak to me each time were the memories:

  • the pair of size 13 boots and a pair of bare legs sticking out from the other side of the tree – legs that looked like mini-tree trunks themselves, thick, and sturdy

  • the whiff of his cigar

  • how his hair was cut low and tight, and he had a nice thick beard with skin that was a rich, dark ebony

  • how his gold wedding band flashed brightly as his fingers rose up and down in motion like he was playing a piano on his mandingo instrument

  • how he asked, “So you trying to be a bitch for a big dick?” then as he placed the leather collar and chain around my neck said, “Bitches need to be chained up if they want to get mounted by the big dawg knot.”

  • all that before he stuffed my hole with an ice-pop of his nutt, made me snort Tina before forcing me to lick crystals off his dick and burying some big shards up my ass and finally making my hole open, wet, and sloppy just how he liked it!!!

 

The first time I pulled out his card and debated what to do I thought he was pretty fucking brilliant. The card said, 3-SQUARES CATERING - WE DELIVER ONLY THE HIGHEST QUALITY, FRESHEST MEALS, FOR EVERY OCCASION. Then when I called I asked about seeing him again and he ignored my question and said gruffly, “What the fuck’s your order? When do you want it?” He then blew his stack when I said, “Uh, maybe a baggy of crystal and…” and literally screamed in the phone, “WE DON’T CATER FANCY DINNERS - SO IT’S ALL PAPER PLATES AND PLASTIC!” before dishing out a series of “dumb asses.” I didn’t understand what he meant at all and was pissed that he was pissed like how the fuck would I know what to say or do? Not like he explained before kicking me to the curb with an ass full of nutt. He huffed, then said more calmly, “That’ll be an order of Surf-N-Turf, extra rare, double sauce on the side, with chocolate roll for dessert. Your delivery will be there in 30 to 60 minutes, cash only.” So, from that first order I learned Surf-N-Turf was a small baggy of Tina/crystal (the Surf was - according to my server/delivery man/gigolo - code for Tina on Gilligan’s Island - seemed like a stretch to me but hey); the Turf was one of his boys who would have at least 10 inches (real inches not that fake shit dudes trying to pass off on the internet); that extra rare meant bareback and raw fucking; double sauce on the side meant I would get at least two loads in my ass as the boys were young, hood thugs who could double tap with barely breaking a sweat; and finally the chocolate roll for dessert meant it would be BBC. Maybe he had other races in the mix, but that’s what he offered and what I took and was fucking happy! The second time I called I placed my order without incident and when he asked if my last order had been delivered on time and the meal cooked to my satisfaction my only complaint had been his boy had snorted ⅔ of my baggy of Tina in the hour he was with me fucking. But, my hole ached for days after so if they had been on Yelp it would have been five stars all the way.

 

I had enjoyed the deliveries and never once was disappointed. When I called the second time I was offered the chance to have the same driver deliver as, “he is already in the area,” but I passed and said, “That’s OK, I’ll wait for the next one as I am in no rush.” Every guy the ice cream man sent was rough, thuggish, with a huge dick, tons of sperm, and willing to throw a no-holds-barred fuck. Well worth the time and money. Since they were keeping my hole used and abused, I didn’t focus on the ice cream man anymore, although I still jerked off thinking about that day. Fast forward to spring, April in DC, and it is Cherry Blossom Festival time. While the city is beautiful this time of year all of the fucking tourists drive me crazy. With that said, I still decided to go the final event of the Festival, which was to see the fireworks down on the river right near my condo. The fireworks were scheduled to start at 9:00 p.m., and I got down there about 8:30 to walk around a bit, listen to the live band, see the booths they had set up, and just chill and mingle. I was lost in thought looking at some paintings a local artist was selling under a small tent when a strong hand clamped the back of my neck, squeezed hard, and a faintly familiar, yet clearly drunk/high voice said, “I think it’s about time you start upping on your orders. My pocket’s feeling light.” I turned, my mouth gaped, the hand squeezed harder as the ice cream man’s cigar smoke breath washed over me when he said - loud enough to make people turn and stare - “So bitch, you trying to get that pussy sloppy and filled with black syrup?” In response I reached into my pocket and pulled out my cash and from between the folds of the $20 bills extracted my black credit card and held it up, “Let’s see what’s on the menu tonight!” The ice cream man choked, coughed, sputtered and laughed and in the midst of trying to hold himself together dropped his cigar, which sent him into a fit of swearing, followed by disdained ‘hushes’ from people nearby reminding him there were children about. Once he pulled himself together, the ice cream man looked around and said, “Fuck I hate kids,” gripped my neck and started guiding me through the crowd. He didn’t say a word as we made our way up to Waterfront Street, then he stopped, relit his cigar, took a big puff, and smiled as he waved the lit stogie towards the right. “Boy’s doing alright it seems.” I looked where he pointed and there was his beat up ice cream truck with a younger guy working the window, hustling cones and frozen delights like an expert juggler.

 

“My nephew just got out from doing a dime,” the ice cream man said as he looked at his vending truck. “Bout time he fucking grows up and learns a trade, so now he’s with me. Shit - this life is for the young folks you know what I mean? Time for me to ease out of the game, shift my focus and hustle, spend more time fuckin-loving-and-leaving-pussy-wet then slinging shit. You know what I mean?” I glanced at his nephew, who looked too young to have done 10 years in prison so he must have gone in as a juvenile. He was not handsome in the classic sense by any stretch, but he was masculine as hell and I could see tatts on his face, back of his hands, his arms were covered, and more peeked up through the scoop in his white tank top. He had semi-long dreads and my asshole quivered. I jumped as an insistent finger poked at my hole and the ice cream man laughed, “Fuck, you a dick hungry bitch! I can hear that ass clapping for it already and I ain’t even busted you back open yet. Come on. You tonight’s menu and bout time my nephew learns a new hustle.” I followed the ice cream man to the back of the truck. He threw open the door, climbed in, I went up the two-steps behind him, and paused as he said slammed his hand down on the cooler, “Time to go. Shut the shit down.” His nephew looked to him, to me, then started to object, but the ice cream man was having none of it, “ I SAID SHUT THE SHIT DOWN. YOU - THERE - GET THE FUCK BACK FROM MY TRUCK UNLESS YOU WANT TO GET RUN OVER. GET NOW. GET!!” The nephew gave me a dirty look as he hustled out the back and amidst the cries from kids saying, “Daddy I want an ice cream!” picked up their display boards, tethered the window shut, made the final adjustments, and hopped back in as his Uncle revved the engine and turned on the soundtrack. The musical chimes still sounded like it was on its last leg – off tune, missing beats, and volume that faded in and out.

 

“Let me drive. You go deal with - with whatever the fuck that is,” the nephew said as he fought his Uncle for the seat and steering wheel while glaring at me. The ice cream man laughed, dropped his cigar stub on the metal floor and stomped it out, then said, “Fucking fine. Just get us out of here. Go - hell I don’t give a shit where. Go to the reup drop. That’ll work.” The ice cream truck belched, revved, and swayed back and forth as it slowly wound its way out of the crowds and towards M Street SW. By the time we hit M Street, I was naked, with a collar around my neck, and a pair of leather cuffs on my wrists that were connected with chains like I was in a prison transport. The ice cream man took the chain hanging down my back from the collar and looped it through the chain connecting my wrists before reaching up and snapping the end into a metal eye hook suspended in the ceiling. I was facing forward - my arms suspended now - and kept meeting the nephew’s gaze as he looked in the rearview mirror trying to figure out what the fuck his Uncle was doing. Each gasp from my throat when his Uncle would roughly jam a shard of Tina up my ass would make his eyes flit my way, then quickly back to the road as we made our way into Northeast DC. By the time the ice cream truck halted, and the nephew set it in park, turned the engine off, then stood up to join us, my ass was stuffed with Tina and frozen nutt like I was a damn Piñata. Except the candy would take an awful long, big bat to find and I couldn’t wait to get busted open. “That pussy still good?” the ice cream man asked me. I almost purred as the Tina sloughed away inside my burning rectum. “Slide your dick up in there boy,” the ice cream man said to his nephew as he pointed at my stuffed ass. The nephew shook his head in objection, “Naw man Unc, I ain’t no fag and shit.” His Uncle laughed, “Boy I know you had them faggies on their knees swallowing that joint when you were inside and bred them every chance you got. So don’t be fronting with me now.” The nephew paused to think and consider, “Well yeah, but it wasn’t like that. On the inside that’s just how shit goes. Don’t mean nothing.”

 

The ice cream man gave my white ass a big smack, spun me back around as I stood on the balls of my feet trying not to swing too far, “Right, and don’t mean nothing out here neither. I love your auntie. You know I been to hell and back with that woman, but fuck, I can’t even get her to touch my dick any more let alone give it up. These white asses like this - they serve the purpose just fine. Lesson #1, don’t get wrapped up in no drama with some side chick because they will fuck your business up. Trust me. That’s nothing you ever want to bring home and your girl/wife will always find out - always. Lesson #2, his ass is pussy. Pink pussy eager for BBC ain’t that right? When I say get lost you gone. Ain’t that right? When I say lick my fucking ass your tongue be flapping. Ain’t that right? When I say show me them stackz and buy my product, you be asking how thick do I want them and give me the entire fucking menu. Ain’t that right?” I eagerly said, “YES SIR!” to it all. The schooling continued, “Lesson #3, target them DILFs, especially them white professional guys who all clean cut during the workday but on the weekends and when the lights down, they the freakiest of the bunch. Ain’t that right?” the ice cream mean asked. Like I really needed to responded hanging naked from a chain as I was. He went on, “They got the cash to spend. This truck? It’s a hustle. That dope we sling? It’s a hustle. Snag and grab them wallets that willing to take some dick on the side too, now that’s a double hustle.” The ice cream man smacked my ass hard then said, “Tell my nephew here what your favorite take out order is?” I easily recited it, “Surf-N-Turf, extra rare, double sauce on the side, with chocolate roll for dessert.” The ice cream man laughed, smacked me again, and then asked, “And what you trying to order today?” as he waved by credit card around. “Double of everything?” I asked. He laughed again and replied, “Well, let’s start with that and see where things go.”

 

Shit. I was always up for a little fun, but maybe this was more than I was ready for. My thoughts about trying to back out were interrupted as the ice cream man tossed a couple of baggies of Tina towards his nephew before inspecting his box, then turned and said, “Now you two go on ahead and get on it while I go inside to the reup and hook up with the boys. Lesson #4, the key to this double hustle is you got to get your shit hard and ready in 30 seconds flat with no sucking or help from them cause sometimes you only got a minute to get in there and dump that load. That’s what they all want - feeling that mandingo monster burning their hole and wetting it up with baby batter. You can try to fake that shit, but trust, to get the repeat ass you gotta drop some chunks. That’s just good customer service.” The nephew shook his head trying to take it all in as he leaned back against one of the coolers, lit a cigarette, then started to rearrange the baggies like little plastic soldiers being lined up for a battle. His Uncle lit a fresh cigar and just as he got to the back door he turned and said, “And boy, lesson #5 - you ain’t never the bitch and no money in the world is worth flipping. Remember you the top dawg - always! They’re the bitches and can always tell when a top be faking and ain’t nothing more than a bitch with a strap on. You remember them Pit Bulls your granddaddy used to breed and train up? You remember how he always strapped the bitch down so the best fighters could mount her and knock her up with puppies? Just like that. This hustle ain’t about being sweet and precious and all that shit. It’s about raw, rough fucking and you getting your nutt and them filling your wallet.” His lessons done, the ice cream man stepped down out of the truck, closed the door, and left me alone with his nephew. The nephew exhaled a cloud of cigarette smoke, casually tapped his ash onto the floor of the ice cream truck, then set the still it cigarette on the edge of the ice cream cooler. I couldn’t help but think there must laws against that kind of shit right? Food service rules and all? Yet this was a drug dealer’s truck so I guess the bigger risk was mixing up powdered sugar for the waffle cones with a bag of cocaine or some shit. He pulled open one of the baggies, dumped some rock on the stainless cooler top, grabbed a spoon from one of those plastic silverware caddies with holes in it, and started to crush the rock up. He reached in his pocket; pulled out a motley mix of bills and cards, found a card he liked, and started to use that to scoop the crushed crystal into lines. He then reached up on a shelf, grabbed a box, pulled out a razor blade, and continued to cut the rock down into snortable bits. Satisfied, he grabbed a straw from a box on the corner, tore the paper cover off and tossed the remnants to the side, laid the straw on the counter and cut it with the razor, then bent over and snorted a couple big lines. “You sure you should be snorting that?” I asked, “Won’t you get Tina dick?” The nephew wiped his nose, squinted, set the straw down, unbuckled his pants and let his monster out. He wasn’t wearing underwear and I could smell his ripe, rank, musty balls and unwashed dick head from where I was. I inhaled the man musk as he stroked it once - twice - then BINGO! His long dick stiffened right up to a hefty 10+inches. He grinned at me with a ‘fuck you’ smirk, then snorted some more. “Hey, what about me? Don’t I get some too?” I asked.

 

The nephew took a couple shuffled steps towards me, his pants still down around his ankles, his hard dick making me spin on the chain as he steered past me. He reached up, unlatched the chain from the eyehook. I rotated my shoulders to get the blood flowing in my arms and walked over to the counter, grabbed the straw with my cuffed/chained hands, and bent over and snorted the fresh crush. I stood up, started to wipe my nose, then got startled as the nephew was now right behind me, both hands holding my neck, his fingers squeezing between my flesh and the leather collar, “So is my Uncle right? You just want to get it raw, rough, and deep? Want some jail dick? Want to be fucked like a prison bitch? Make you take this dick!” I grunted as he pushed his dick head into my puckered hole, which was clenched tight from the crystal shards his Uncle had put in there. The nephew swore, pulled back, spit on his hand but I stopped him, “No - fuck it dry. I want to feel it push through then once you in, it’ll be wet - I promise.” The black dick was back at my hole, more forcefully, and the nephew asked, “Why will it be wet? You already been fucked?” I laughed, “No, your Uncle shoved one of his nutt-pops in there. Said he likes sloppy pussy.” I yelped a little as his dry dick split my hole, pushed in, then went rigid as he tore through and spread my guts open in one, deep stroke. “Oh yeah,” he said, “Wet, sloppy pussy. Juicy. Bend the fuck over, let me long dick that hole,” my new deliveryman said. I was happy to oblige and closed my eyes and relished the feel of his pounding as my hole got worked. Far too soon he pulled up, yanked his dick out, grabbed the collar and stood me up and handed me a plastic tub and said, “Squat and let that shit out. I want that pussy dry now so all you feel is my nutt.” I did as I was told and watched as he kicked off his shoes, stepped out of his pants, and pulled his t-shirt off. His chest and torso were covered in tatts but they were fucked up looking and all scarred, ridged, like the skin/ink was half missing in places. The nephew rubbed his hands over his body, “Jailhouse shit. Dirty needle I guess, they got infected.” Christ.

 

While it was a little hard moving around inside the ice cream truck, in nothing flat the nephew had put a couple of cardboard boxes down on the floor, and stomped on them flat - his big dawg feet nails clicking on the metal floor as he pushed me down onto my stomach. “Arch that back bitch,” he said as his young dick split my hole dry, raw, and rough. I tried grabbing at the leather collar with one hand to try to ease his pull when he slapped my head, yanked back on the collar harder, and angled his dick to the right - left - then straight in deep. “YEAH MY UNCLE WAS RIGHT. JUST LIKE JAIL. SHUT THE FUCK UP AND TAKE THIS DICK. YOU DON’T WANT TO WAKE YOUR CELLIE OR LET THE GUARDS HEAR. YOU WANT SOME BABIES? SOME PRISON DICK BABIES? YEAH YOU A GOOD FUCKED UP BITCH - FAGGOT FOR MY BLACK DICK - HUNGRY PUSSY THAT I’M MAKING WET. CATCH THIS NUTT - PUSH THAT ASS BACK - CATCH THIS NUTT - 30 SECOND NUTT COMING THROUGH, READY TO FLOOD THEM GUTS, FILL YOU UP - LEAVE YOU DRIPPING. FUCK YEAH, SHOOTING IN YOU RAW YOU NASTY SLUT - PRISON SLUT - TAKE IT - TAKE IT - GRRRRR….” BBC cum was dripping out of my hole and puddling on the cardboard beneath me. The ice cream man’s nephew had just bred me raw, yet he was not done. Having snorted the remainder of the crushed up Tina, he yanked me up by the collar, had me sit u on the ice cream cooler and lean back so he could lift my legs up on his arms, then he slammed back in. When his Uncle opened the door and stepped in a minute later, his nephew didn’t pause a stroke, and beat it harder and faster and let his Uncle watch as he dumped another load. “TAKE THIS FUCKING LOAD - GOOD PRISON TRADE PUSSY RIGHT HERE - HUSTLE THAT SHIT - TRADE THAT PUSSY FOR CIGARETTES. YOU TRYING TO GET PIMPED? YEAH YOU ARE. I’M YOUR BOSS AND YOU WILL DO WHAT THE FUCK I SAY - OPEN THAT PINK PUSSY UP - OPEN THAT UP - LET ME NUTT IT UP AGAIN. HERE YOU GO - HERE YOU GO - PRISON DICK IN THAT DILF ASS - FUCKING PUSSY ASS - FUCKING….AAAAAAHHHH - YYYEEESSS!”

 

Having satisfied his need, the nephew promptly yanked his dick out, dropped my legs, and laughed as I scrambled not to fall off the cooler. My hands being chained was making it touch as I twisted, turned, and tried to find a dignified way to dismount. “WHERE THE FUCK YOU THINK YOU GOING?” the ice cream man bellowed as he set his cigar firmly between his teeth, unzipped his pants, and pulled out his whopper. “YOU KNOW I LIKE SLOPPY PUSSY AND I GOT SOME HOT CHOCOLATE SAUCE RIGHT HERE FOR YOU. COME ON BOY; HOLD HIS LEGS BACK UP SO I CAN STUFF IT FULL OF SPRINKLES AGAIN. FREE LESSON FOR YOU - JAM THOSE BIG SHARDS DEEP AND SCRATCH IT UP - MAKES THAT PUSSY TWITCH AND CONVULSE AND FUCKS THEM RIGHT UP AND THEIR TRAPS GET SO HUNGRY THEY LET YOU RAPE FUCK IT HOW YOU WANT. AIN’T THAT RIGHT?” I could only moan as I leaned back against the ice cream truck wall, lost in the sensations of the cold cooler under my body while thick fingers stuffed me with Tina and set my ass on fire. “HHHMMMM - YES - TWO SCOOPS HOLE FULL OF FUDGE NUTT,” the ice cream man said as he parted my ass lips and eased in, “HERE BOY, KEEP THIS SMOKE GOING FOR ME WHILE GIVE HIM ANOTHER FLAVOR.” His nephew took his cigar and set it between his teeth and huffed and puffed on it while he stroked his dick back to readiness as he watched his Uncle bang me. “GET THE FUCK OFF THERE. I WANT YOU TO BEND OVER AND SHOW ME THAT HOLE SO I CAN FIND THAT THIRD HOLE,” the ice cream man growled. I was roughly dragged off the cooler, turned around, slammed face down and bent over and howled in pain as he started to brutal fuck me. OK, well in honesty not ‘pain’ really - discomfort, sure - but I knew he liked it when he thought it was hurting. “THIS IS HOW YOU DO IT. NO MERCY AT ALL. JUST SLAM THE FUCK IN - GO DEEP - AND PULL OUT AND SLAM BACK IN. GOTTA KEEP SHIT MOVING AND DON’T HAVE TIME TO FUCKING WALK IN THE PARK. LEAVE THEM SORE, HURT, AND FILLED WITH NUTT AND THEY BE CALLING FOR DELIVERIES MORE THAN YOU CAN IMAGINE. WHY? CAUSE NO ONE ELSE FUCKS THEM LIKE THIS. THEY MIGHT GET OTHER DICK - BUT NOT HOOD DICK - NOT ROUGH DICK - NOT DICK THAT WILL TAKE IT WITH FORCE AND USE THEIR ASS WITHOUT GIVING A FUCK ABOUT HOW THEY FEEL. AIN’T THAT RIGHT?” I could only mumble a week, “Yes Sir,” as he blended those Tina rocks into my guts and prepped my hole for another breeding. “PUSH BACK NOW, TRY TO FIGHT IT, THAT’S IT FUCKING SLOPPY BITCH ASS - THAT’S IT - FEEL THAT GOOD GOOD SLAMMING YOU - FEEL THAT BBC SWELLING - FEEL ME POLLINATING THAT ASS WITH MY SEED - FEEL ME ADDING A PINT OF HOT SYRUP - OH YEAH - HERE IT GOES - RIGHT IN THAT HOLE - RIGHT IN THAT HOLE - CHOCO VANILLA SWIRL, MY FUCKING FAVORITE!”

 

Having shown his nephew how to drop that nutt on the hustle, the ice cream man pulled out his milk crate, sat down, leaned back, and puffed on his cigar. When his nephew frantically grabbed my hips, dug his nails in and slammed back into me with all his might, in a frantic, desperate need to cum once more the iced cream man just laughed and said, “There you go my man. The torch has been passed to a new generation.” About 60-seconds later more BBC-family nutt was running down my leg as the ice cream man stuck the end of his cigar into my cummy/Tina filled hole, scooped it out, then smacked his lips as he huffed again. He looked at me and said, “I WANT TO SEE HOW HUNGRY THAT ASS IS - YOU EVER TAKEN 12 INCHES? 13? IT’S ONLY A BIT BIGGER. WELL A BIT LONGER ANYWAYS. THICK AS MY WRIST THOUGH. I BET YOU CAN. NO CHOICE REALLY - MORE LIKE YOU WILL TAKE IT. HEY BOY, CRUSH UP SOME MORE OF THAT SHIT, LET’S PACK THAT CHUTE, THEN GO IN AND TELL THE GUYS HE’S READY.” Still smacking his ass pussy flavored cigar the ice cream man stood up, grabbed my chains, hooked me back to the ceiling, then reached into a box and pulled out a rag and stuffed it in my mouth. He grinned then said, “I THINK YOU MAY SCREAM ON THESE ONES, BUT THAT’S COOL - TRY - TOLD THEM THIS WAS A NO LIMITS FUCK. YOU WANT SOME MORE SPRINKLES?”

(*From the author: If you like the story let me know - post a reply or give a reputation. Thanks to everyone who takes the time to read these stories and for the continued support!)

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