Show Me What You Got
By: Giantguy

Damn, he was hard.

Mark shifted around on the cold seat of the john, stroking his cock a little. He looked up at the graffiti scrawled across the metal wall of the stall.

"10:30 PM FRIDAY SHOW ME WHAT YOU GOT AND I'LL SWALLOW"

There were other things scribbled and scratched on the graygreen painted surface, some half erased or wiped away "CARNES SUCKS DICK" and "WHAT YOU LOOKING AT FAGGOT" but this one was inked in, new in the last couple of days. Mark saw it yesterday when he came in to take a leak between classes. Not a lot of people came to this bathroom on the second floor of the athletic building, but for once there was a line, so he had to use the stall. He read it while he pissed... probably just a joke ... probably ... but there was something about it that turned him on. He didn't exactly plan on coming back ... but here he was ... pretending to himself that it was just a coincidence that he was sitting here, 10:25 pm on Friday, a half hour before the building closed, his shorts down around his ankles and his hard cock in his hand, while all his buddies from the soccer team were already into their second pitcher of beer at the bar wondering where he was...

He shifted again, flexing his legs. They were strong and cut from three years on the soccer team ... he was fast, lean and muscular at 5'8" and 145 lbs. He ran a hand nervously through his short sandy hair. A bead of sweat ran down his side. What the fuck was he doing here? Not like he couldnt get his dick sucked by any one of the girls he was screwing ... but something was tingling in his crotch, getting him more excited than he had been in a long time ...

Ten twenty nine. Ah, he should just pack it up and go. His buds would be waiting for him, and he'd have to explain where the hell he'd been... couldnt tell them he was waiting around to maybe get a blowjob in the boys room of the PE building...

Ten thirty. Okay. It was just a joke. He should get the hell out of there. He could hear the door opening and the janitor wheeling his bucket in. Nothing was going to be happening tonight. But he couldnt walk out of here with his boner just stuffed in his shorts ... he'd give it a minute to go down.

He could hear the creak of the janitor's boots. He could see them under the stall door ... pushing the mop slowly back and forth. He heard a little grunt and then a chuckle ... damn, that was probably Carnes. They all knew Carnes ... he'd been working there forever... ex merchant marine, probably fifty by now, a massive mountain of a man... close cropped salt and pepper hair, a wiry dark beard, dark eyebrows... the kind of guy who could look right at you and scare the shit out of you without saying a word. He was always wearing the same olive green jumpsuit, stretched over his round, hard beer gut. You knew you were "in" when Carnes would see you in the hall and just say "Ya did good, ya son of a bitch." Otherwise he would just ignore you. Carnes had only even looked at Mark once, towering almost a full foot taller in his workboots. Mark was leaving the building late as Carnes was finishing up the hallway... Mark walked over the freshly mopped hallway floor, and looked back as he felt Carnes' gaze burning into his back. He turned, and Carnes was staring at him with a combination sneer and grin on his face ... and then he licked his lips. Mark got the hell out of there ...

... and now here he was in the john stall, holding his dick (why wouldn't it fucking go DOWN), waiting for Carnes to finish up so he could sneak out. Mark heard the clang of Carnes putting the mop back in the wheeled steel bucket, and the sound of him unzipping his jumpsuit. A second later there was a heavy gushing sound as Carnes flooded the urinal. He cracked a fart, sighing in relief as he forced a thick stream out ... sighed again and then belched long and loud. Finally after a full minute the stream slowed and stopped... and then Mark watched as Carnes's scuffed workboots slowly turned and came toward the stall door ... Does he know I'm in here? Mark thought, just as he saw Carnes' rough hand grab the top of the door. A second later, the door swung open.

"Never got around to fixing the goddam locks in here," Carnes growled in his gravelly voice. Mark tried to cover his still-hard cock.

"Hey man, come on, I'm busy in here." he protested, trying not to look Carnes in the face. Carnes slowly grinned.

"Sure ya are. Sure ya are." His dark deepset eyes moved over to the graffiti on the stall, then back to Mark. "Guess I'm a couple minutes late, huh ya little fucker."

SHIT! Was it Carnes who wrote that ... ? Mark couldn't help looking up. Carnes' coverall was unzipped all the way down to his crotch, exposing his furry, powerful, deep chest, and his round, firm gut. The sleeves were rolled up over his thick muscular forearms, each one covered with dark blue tattoos. He smelled like a combination of musky sweat, tobacco and stale beer. He took a step closer, filling the door of the stall. Mark moved back on the toilet seat. He was afraid, but at the same time his cock surged, getting harder than ever, starting to leak a little precum.

Carnes scratched at his belly, which gurgled. He opened his mouth wide and belched again. Damn -- was he drunk? He must be, Mark thought. Carnes slowly knelt down, reaching one callused paw out and rubbing it over Mark's smooth, muscular thigh.

"Oh yeah. Show me what you got boy. That's the deal..." Carnes' deep voice rumbled through Mark's body as his nice sized cock got painfully hard, jumping in his hand. Mark swallowed, his throat dry, trying to act tougher than he felt.

"So you see what I got. So you gonna fuckin swallow it or what?" He held his fist around the base of his dick and pushed it at Carnes. Carnes just grinned ... a long slow wide smile that made Mark almost lightheaded, the blood rushing down, pounding through his veins.

"You bet I'm gonna... you just fuckin bet I'm gonna..." Carnes had both hands on Mark's thighs now, rubbing slowly up and down... then holding Mark's hips in a tight grip ... he leaned forward... opening his mouth ... stretching it wider... a dark gaping chasm beneath his thick mustache...

Mark leaned back, closing his eyes, waiting for the first touch of the man's tongue on his dick... he was so keyed up he was afraid he would shoot right away... he felt warmth and wetness ... damn ... it felt like Carnes had his entire ballsack enveloped ... swiping his tongue ... it felt fucking HUGE... wait ... what the fuck ...

Mark opened his eyes and looked down at Carnes. "HOLY SHIT!" Carnes just looked up at him, and tightened his grip, grinning wider.

**************

Wes stomped into the athletic building. Fucking six thirty in the morning. He still smelled like beer from last nights bar crawl, and he woke up too late too shower. Didn't fucking matter, he was just going to be scrubbing toilets all fucking day anyway. The coach had really chewed his ass out -- he got caught turning in a paper that one of his frat brothers wrote for him -- the coach told him he should be kicking him out, but they would let it slide -- "BUT you're gonna be fuckin cleaning out toilets with a toothbrush, you little son of a bitch. Put you in your place. Now get your ass out of here."

And where the hell was Carnes? Bad enough he had to spend his Saturday cleaning out the shitters, but the coach told him Carnes was going to watching him. "And I told him, if you miss one fucking inch, then he can just can you right there. Cut you from the team. So don't piss him off."

Maybe he was already in one of the bathrooms. Shit, that's all he needed, to be fucking late already. The sour taste of beer was still in Wes' mouth, damn near close to puking. The whole team had been celebrating last night, well all except for Mark -- he must have scored some major pussy, cause that's the only thing that would have kept him out of the bar.

The lights were off in the bathrooms on the first floor, so Wes climbed the stairs to the second floor. The women's bathroom was dark there ... he pushed open the door to the men's bathroom. The lights were off here too... he was about to move on when he heard a sound like a low, rumbling growl.

"Anybody in here?" Wes stepped in, flicking on the lights. One fluorescent tube was burnt out, and the other was dying, flickering dimly. The sound came again, from one of the stalls. "Hello? Carnes?"

Then there was a deep, wet, thick belch... "uuuOOOOOOOOOUFFFFF" that rolled on and on. Wes almost laughed. "Jesus Christ man, what the fuck did you eat for breakfast?" The door to one of the toilet stalls banged open, and Wes saw Carnes' meaty, powerful hand grab the door for leverage. The man heaved his massive bulk up and out of the stall. Wes blinked a little. Carnes looked like he'd been doing marathon heavy lifting ... there were deep sweat stains under the arms of his coverall ... his face was flushed, with veins in his neck standing out ... and his jumpsuit was unzipped almost all the way down. Wes stared ... Carnes wasn't fat, he was powerful, built like a tank with the solid beer gut of a man who liked his brew ... but his belly was enormous ... swollen ... distended ... a hard ball pushing out through the opening of Carnes' uniform. He was standing, holding onto the stall door, breathing heavily as though hed just climbed ten flights of stairs.

"What the FUCK you looking at, cocksucker?" Carnes barked. Wes took a step back. "Uh... uh ... I'm sposed to be ... uh ... working today ... and uh ... the coach said ..."

Carnes' expression suddenly changed. "Oh yeah... the team fuckup. Tryin to save your ass from bein canned... oh yeah, I got a lot of work for you. A lot..." Carnes grinned as he stood up straighter, his massive gut moving, almost as though something were ... were struggling? inside his belly.

"Come here boy. Let's get started ..."

Carnes threw a wire brush at Wes, about the size of a toothbrush, and pushed open the door of the last stall.

"In there. Yer gonna scrub the john out ... and yer gonna wash down these walls, get rid of all the fuckin graffiti. Yer gonna go inch by inch. Ya got that, ya little fucker?"

Wes wasn't used to taking shit from anybody but the coach... but Carnes radiated power. Wes, at 5'11 and 170 pounds of muscle, could stand up to just about anybody ... but he backed down. "Yes... uh, yes sir." Carnes stood with his arms folded, making no move to zip his coverall up, his gut bulging out like a beachball. His bulk was halfway blocking the door to the stall.

"Well? Get your ass in there, NOW." Carnes growled. Wes took a deep breath, and squeezed past him ... as he slid by Carnes stretched, bloated belly, he could almost feel it move, as though something were thumping weakly around in there. He looked up quickly at Carnes, who grinned and then opened his mouth, emitting another belch, a deep, animal growl. "uuUUUUUuuuurp". He rubbed his hands over his gut, letting the belch subside into a satisfied sigh. Wes looked away, and knelt down, the tile cold against his knees. Why the hell didnt he wear jeans instead of grabbing the first pair of sweatshorts he could find? Carnes watched him begin to work, another slow smile stretching across his face.

Wes' knees and back were aching. He was finishing on the second of the three stalls, after working for hours. At first Carnes was watching over him as he scrubbed and scoured, going one painful inch at a time... then Carnes hunkered down, and lay on his back on the floor, his hands slowly rubbing over his round, full gut. Getting the graffiti cleaned off took the most time... Wes' mind was drifting as he dug in to one stubborn scrawl in the second toilet stall. Carnes was breathing deeply ... was that fucker asleep?

"Shit man, don't you got some actual work to do instead of layin on your ass?" it was out of his mouth before Wes realized he had said it out loud. Carnes grunted and then lumbered to his feet. In a flash he was up, blocking what there was of the dim light as he pushed into the stall door and glowered down at Wes.

"This IS my fucking job today, you little asswipe. I'm doin this for your coach, not for you, FUCKER." He banged his fist against the metal partition for emphasis, making Wes jump. "You want me to be breathin down your neck, you son of a bitch, then I WILL. I'm gonna be right on your ass man, right on your ASS, waitin for you to miss one fuckin' inch, and when you DO man, you are fuckin' GONE. OUTTA here. Off the team and fuck, outta this SCHOOL. You fuckin' HEAR me, ya little prick?"

The blood was pounding in Wes' head and he only had half a voice as he mumbled "Uhh .... uh... I'm done in here ... I ... I ... can start on the next one..." He tried to keep control of himself and not start shaking as he had to slide past Carnes again. This time just as he was wedging himself through the narrow gap Carnes left him, avoiding his burning eyes, Carnes shoved his gut forward, pinning Wes in place. Wes stumbled and almost fell, having to grab against Carnes for support. Carnes' still-exposed belly was hard and the skin felt hot, the trail of hair leading down over it from his hairy chest was stiff and coarse. Carnes laughed hoarsely and then shoved Wes away, pushing him into the next stall.

Wes tried to concentrate as he worked on the last toilet, but his body was aching and he couldnt focus with Carnes standing, legs spread and arms folded, at the stall door, watching his every move. His own t-shirt was getting sweaty ... he lifted it up and pulled it off over his head, wiping his forehead with it. Behind him he heard a long, low gurgling growl... coming from Carnes' massive belly.

At last he got started on cleaning off the graffiti... phone numbers ... little drawings of dick and balls ... some sex jokes ... and one scrawl, larger than the rest, written in red. "SHOW ME WHAT YOU GOT..." It was slowly starting to come off. Man, when this was done, he was going to go home and take a long shower and just sleep. What fucking time was it? He didn't wear a watch and there were no windows... felt like he'd been in here for two days.... the flickering fluorescent lights hurt his eyes and his back was killing him... and man, he was fuckin' hungry. He scrubbed harder at the words... "AND I'LL SWALLOW..." He saw the rest of it "FRIDAY 10:30 PM" ... huh, maybe somebody got a blowjob in here last night... he could sure fucking use one, got left with blue balls last night... He wiped his forehead again with his damp t-shirt... almost done ... then he could tell Carnes to fuck off and he'd be outta here.

There. The wall was clean. Wes stretched and stood up, his tired back muscles feeling like they were twisted in knots. "Okay man, I am gone."

Carnes didn't move. "The fuck you are. You ain't done in there."

Wes had had it. "Yeah, I fuckin' AM. Look man -- it's fucking clean and clear."

Carnes' eyebrows lowered. "I see a spot down there..." Wes looked ... one small square of graffiti in the back corner, almost behind the john.

"Fuck man, nobodys gonna see that. Come on man. I'm fuckin hungry as hell. You must be too, you ain't been outta here the whole day." On cue, there was a groan from Carnes' belly. Wes tried to push his advantage. "Yeah man, you must be fuckin' starving. I'll buy you some beer. Fuck, man, I'll buy you a steak, let's just get the fuck out of here.."

"Yeah you got that right fucker... I'm gonna need something big to eat ... gut's almost empty again..." Carnes put one big paw up on Wes' big chest "and you, ya little bastard, now you REALLY fucked up."

Wes' eyes widened. "What the fuck man? What'd I do?" Carnes pushed him backwards into the stall.

"Tryin' to bribe me man? Slackin' off? Not finishing what you started? That's the kind of half-assed shit that got you in fuckin' trouble in the first place."

"Aw man, come on, I just said I'd buy you a--"

"Too LATE man, too fuckin' LATE" Carnes leaned down, braying the words in Wes' face. His breath was hot, beery and rank. Wes turned his head away. "And now your ass is MINE, fucker. You're outta here. You're REALLY outta here." He slammed a hand down on Wes' shoulder. Wes lost his balance, and fell hard onto the john, the breath knocked out of him. He slipped over to one side, his face banging into the metal wall, his arm shooting down to brace himself. He just stayed there for a second ... fuck, was Carnes gonna beat the crap out of him? He tried to sit up... his hand hit something, something that was half wedged behind the john... a ... a shoe? He tugged on it and it slid out from behind the toilet... a new Nike sneaker ... neon green stripes across it ... a crazy looking shoe ... that he'd seen before ... fuck...

"Mark." he said, almost automatically. He looked up. Carnes was towering over him, looking ten feet tall. Carnes rubbed both hands slowly over his bulging gut.

"Oh yeah... your little buddy. Guess he thought he was gonna get his dick sucked. Probably didn't think he was gonna get sucked down all the way. And I fuckin' mean, ALL the way."

Wes tried to back up further as Carnes moved in, starting to hunker down. "Wha... what the fuck did you do?"

Carnes grinned, his dark beard glinting with drops of sweat and saliva. "Like I said, fucker. I swallowed him."

"You sucked his cock?"

Carnes leaned in even closer. "You ain't LISTENING, fucker. I said I SWALLOWED him." His gut was pressing against Wes' legs... the skin felt even hotter ... burning hot ... "And you're next."

Wes barely had time to react before Carnes' hands were on either side of his head, gripping him tightly. His own hands were on Carnes, trying to pull his powerful mitts off of him, but his strength wasn't a match for Carnes' steely grip. Carnes brought his face up to Wes', staring at him. Then he closed his eyes, and began to open his mouth... there was a sound of popping ... like a joint flexing ... his mouth gaping ... stretching ... a dark opening more than a foot wide ... eighteen inches ... Wes tried to turn away but Carnes' fat, thick tongue lapped out, swiping his face with thick, slick saliva. Carnes raised up slightly and pushed his distended jaw down over Wes' head, slowly engulfing it, pushing down inch by inch...

Wes flailed but he was trapped in the enclosed space... he felt a warm, wet tightness over the top of his head, and Carnes' thick lips ringed by wiry beard start to push down over his face, the ridge of his lower teeth lightly scraping his face as his head was forced deeper into Carnes' mouth. His thoughts were circling his mind in a panic...

...fuck... SWALLOWED him... Mark... ? ... how the FUCK ... swallowed him WHOLE... holy fuck this cant be happening ... sucked down into Carnes' gut ... FUCK....

Wes almost blacked out for a second, feeling the rough wet surface of Carnes' wide thick tongue swiping and slurping over his face. He tried to catch a gasp of air, and felt himself being pushed even further in.

Carnes held him by the shoulders as his lips closed around Wes' neck. He kept his eyes closed, a low growl rumbling around in his chest. He took a slow, ragged breath in through his nose, and prepared himself for the widest stretch of all-- the shoulders. He suddenly grunted like a man deadlifting a huge weight, and stretched his jaw wide. He pressed Wes' shoulders together, lifting him up off the seat. Further ... wider ... aaaauUUUUUhh yes, he engulfed the shoulders and ribcage, his tongue pushing and sliding, his powerful throat muscles expanding more and more.

He slid his meaty hands down Wes' sides, and then pushed up with his legs, coming to a standing position, and flipping Wes up into the air, letting gravity help him pull him down into his maw. Wes' arms were pinned to his side, and he slid another foot, his crotch now slowly sinking into Carnes' gaping mouth. Carnes reached up and dug his fingers into Wes' sweatshorts. He pulled them apart, ripping them in two, his tattooed biceps bulging with the effort. Wes' cock flopped down on to his lips as he threw the pieces of the shorts down. His cock was hard ... every time, they got hard. Carnes felt his own meat harden and lengthen, stretching down the loose leg of his coveralls. He took another long breath through his nose and prepared for the last stretch. He gripped Wes' thighs, forcing him down into his mouth, his throat distended as Wes' body was slowly gulped down. He maneuvered him in, inch by inch, pausing to breathe and allow his jaw and throat to stretch further. Now he had him by the knees ... now by his strong calves ... now only Wes' feet stuck out of his mouth. He savored the last moment, yanking the sneakers off and tossing them aside, running his tongue over the broad flat soles. He breathed in again... and gulped. His lips closed over Wes' toes as they disappeared into his mouth. His throat bulged wide as Wes slid down, curled up in his belly, Carnes' beergut bloated and stretched round and massive. Carnes backed out of the stall, a little unsteady with the extra weight in his gut. He worked his jaw back into place, taking huge gulps of air, further bloating his belly. He liked to feel them squirm.

"Done?"

Carnes looked sharply at the door. The coach stood there, a burly man in his late thirties, swarthy with heavy five o clock shadow and steel blue eyes... almost as though he could have been Carnes' brother.

Carnes grinned. His only reply was a thick, viscous belch. "UuuuuOOOOOUUURp". He rubbed his hands across his gut, slapping it hard. The hollow sound echoed in the dimly lit bathroom. The coach smiled.

"Good job."

A week later... Jeff was taking a leak before he went down for a meeting with the coach about his latest fuckup in practice... his eyes wandered over the stall wall... damn, he thought, they clean all the graffiti off but then some fucker has to go and get his fuckin' pen out. He idly read the red scrawl as he shook the last drops off his half hard cock... "10:30 PM FRIDAY SHOW ME WHAT YOU GOT Friday... no date Friday... well, what the hell, huh?

"AND I'LL SWALLOW"

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