Buster was the epitome of masculine perfection. He was nineteen years old and lived with his mother who was my neighbour. Maggie, his mother, was a buxom woman with whom I got along extremely well after I bought my house six months before. Maggie was a rough diamond who took no shit from anyone. If she did not have two sons and had formerly been in a relationship, I would have assumed she was a butch lesbian, which was not the case.

As our friendship blossomed, I came to know her history. She had involved a large ruffian named Buster Snr, who apart from being a mechanic, also indulged in MMA fighting. Buster Snr was never destined for greatness in this milieu but had a respectable record of wins and losses. Although he was a formidable grappler due to his wrestling skills, his boxing skills always let him down and he would often get KO’d in matches. Buster Snr was twenty years older than Maggie was, and had formerly been married. At this point, he was in his early sixties. I did see him on one occasion, because in recent times, he moved back to the area, and rekindled his lost relationship with her and their sons. He and Maggie had never married, her choice, but had always maintained a cordial relationship.  

As I got to know the family their past got revealed. I enjoyed my visits to their home. Maggie was not a drinker and seldom imbibed alcohol. She was, nevertheless, a bubbly person and great storyteller, a trait Buster Jnr had richly inherited. Her relationship with her son was somewhat strained because like his father, he often got pissed. After Buster Snr reignited their affiliation, He and Buster Jnr got on like a house on fire, and would often frequent the local pubs, and cause shit together. Like his dad, Buster Jnr loved fighting. This habit was a great source of irritation to Maggie, who had already had to deal with years of insubordination when Buster Jnr was at school. Buster Jnr was a shit magnet and always in trouble during his scholastic years.

Peter, Maggie’s younger son was the antithesis of his older brother. Given his genes, he was going to be a big lad, which was apparent at the age of eight. He wasn’t a sissy, but the apple of his mother’s eye. This caused great resentment to Buster Jnr, who knew that Peter was their Mom’s favourite. It was clear during my visits to Maggie, that Buster Jnr bullied his far younger brother.

Peter was a lovely kid and had an affable nature. Early on, Peter took to popping in at my home. I knew that his main modus operandi was that I always had bowls of sweets all over my house. Given the fact that I was gay, I confidentially had a chat with Maggie about this habit, explaining that as everyone knew I was gay, the last thing I needed was the locals to start speculating that I was a paedophile. In her inimitable fashion, Maggie got the picture, and Peter’s visits ceased after that. 

Buster Jnr, however, had no such restriction, and would often pop by after an altercation with his mother. Just like Peter’s sweat predilection, Buster knew I had a well-stocked supply of alcohol, which he frequently abused.   

During Buster’s visits to my home like many straight men of limited vocabulary, Buster regaled me with countless stories of his antics. Buster’s gestures during these episodes were mesmerising. He usually performed on his feet as he fervently gesticulated. Buster was a natural raconteur and regaled me with his history, which was concentrated around fights and sexual conquests. Buster was a misogynist and believed that women were there to fucked and dumped. He was a yob, but one of infinite masculine beauty. As I lustfully watched him, sexual fantasies abounded in my mind as I sat amused by his antics. His stories were laced with incredible humour, as his butch body swayed about, usually well-oiled by alcohol. Much as my stash of alcohol was getting depleted, I did not give a fuck.

One evening as he was bragging about his dick, I could not restrain myself from asking.

“Have you ever showed your dick on; “Rate My Cock?”

“Huh?” Buster inarticulately responded.

“There is a site, buddy, where guys show off their knobs, and people rate them,” I quickly added.

“You’re kidding,” he retorted.

“No… Do you want me to show you?” I questioned.

“Okay,” he reticently countered.

After opening my computer, I quickly opened the site. I watched entranced as Buster studied all the cocks on display.

“Jesus… Some of these people have a lot of cheek. I would not submit my cock if I was so underprivileged,” Buster eventually muttered.

“Oh, really, do you reckon your dick is far better?” I rhetorically asked.

***

I must admit that I had an inkling that Buster was, well-endowed. On one of my visits to Maggie, she had alluded to this when she confidentially told me that Buster Jnr displayed the same potential after his birth, that she had come to know with Buster Snr during their relationship. Letting the cat out of the bag, Maggie mentioned that Buster Snr had the ‘dick of death.’ She further went on to say, that their relationship never blossomed because of this. Buster Snr was like a stud bull in the community, and all the women wanted to experience his gift. Amenable as he was, he never let the females down.

“Is Peter also Buster Snr’s child?”

“Yeah, on one of his infrequent visits during his rig days when he earned a lot of money, we rekindled our relationship. I wanted another child and stopped using the pill. Magically, Peter came along as a result. I must tell you that although Buster Snr was philanderer, he always sent me money for the boys,” Maggie concluded, before adding, “At least by not marrying him, I didn’t have to deal with the rest of the prick.  

***

I was dying to see Buster Jnr’s dick and decided to ‘go for broke.’

“Why don’t you submit your knob and see what response you get?” I challenged Buster.

“Really?” he asked incredulously.

“Sure, why not,” I affirmed.

“You just want to see my dick, dontcha?” he said with an impish grin.

“Whatever,” I replied trying to be as nonchalant as possible.

“Okay,” he quickly countered, “Where do you want me to sit?”

My heart leapt with joy as I pointed to the comfy chair in my lounge. After getting there, Buster unceremoniously dropped his pants and underpants, before sitting down wide-legged.

“Should I also remove my t-shit?” he asked, matter-of-factly.

“Yeah,” I swiftly answered.

As I moved toward him, my jaw almost hit the floor. I had always thought that he was exquisite, but now my estimation reach immeasurable heights. Buster’s uncut cock was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. It was long, thick, and flawless. As if that wasn’t enough, the massive sausage was nestled in a nutsack of voluminous splendour.

Oh, Christ, how am I going to get through this with attacking that crotch? I thought.

After kneeling and taking a few shots with my phone, I mischievously asked, “Do you want to submit a before and after picture?”

“What do you mean?” he quizzically asked.

“Soft and erect,” I casually answered.

“Yeah… Why not,” he calmly answered.

Without hesitation, Buster commenced toying with his dick. As it engorged with blood, it lengthened and impressively broadened. In the process, I couldn’t help noticing the top of the snout moistening as precum oozed onto the sheath of his foreskin.

“Sorry about that, but as you can see I never need lubrication,” he muttered, milking the precious liquid between his thumb and first finger, before smearing it onto his stomach.

By now, I was hysterical with lust, fantasizing about lapping up that heavenly nectar. With great restraint, I completed my task as he positioned his erect dick in various positions for the photoshoot.

After Buster had dressed, the rest of my task of submitting the selected picture went by in a flash.

“When do you think they’ll appear on the site?” he asked excitedly.

“Check tomorrow morning,” I suggested.

After a few more drinks, he left after asking me to WhatsApp all the pictures I had taken, to him.

That night, with my phone in hand, I abused my knob endlessly.

Two days later, Buster excitedly arrived at my home to brag about his success on ‘Rate My Cock.’ He was ecstatic about his rave reviews. After a drink or two, he departed.

Buster’s next visit, however, was more ‘traumatic.’ As he arrived at my home late, he had a bloody nose and his t-shirt covered with blood.

“Jesus… What happened?” I blurted with concern.

“My mother punch me in the face,” he snivelled between sniffs.

By now, I was ushering him into my home to assist with his dilemma. After seating him in my kitchen, I soon had a damp cloth over his nose as I went about cleaning the blood off his nose and jaw. In the process, I removed his t-shirt. With his head titled backwards, he masked his face with the cloth. As he sat there, I soon had his t-shirt in cold water and bleach in my sink.

As the bleeding stopped and all returned to normal, I finally asked, “What happened?”

“Peter… Ever since that little cunt was born, I have been the second rate in my mother’s eyes. He is a little shit-stirrer, and so I gave him a fat ear. Of course, my mother, as always, came to his defence and thumped me on the nose… So here I am,” he ruefully intoned.

“Has she done this before?” I disbelievingly inquired.

“Plenty,” he replied.

During our discussion, I ushered him through to my bathroom to clean him up. After removing his t-shirt, I used wet wipes to clean his face. As we exited the bathroom, Buster asked if he could lie on my bed because he had a headache. As he removed his sorts, I quickly retrieved a dark towel to place over the pillow in case of blood spillage.

“Would you like a drink?” I inquired.

“Yeah… A stiff one,” he answered.

“I’ll be back in a minute, I replied.

Once in the kitchen, I put his t-shirt in the basin and added bleach to the cold water. After a quick hand wash, I placed his t-shirt in the dryer.  

Next, I poured him a triple brandy before returning to the room. Lifting his torso, he slugged back the liquid instantly.

“Thanks, you are a real chum,” he replied, before lying back on the bed.

Fuck this, I thought to myself, I am not giving up my bed. 

I was tired and stripped before getting on the bed, facing away from him. As I lay there the thoughts of what I just happened raced through my mind. As I was about to drift off to sleep, I felt his hand on my side. I did not get too excited, reckoning that he had merely placed it there in a state of drowsiness. As his hand progressed downward to my hips, however, I became very excited. Like a slithering snake, his hand kept up its progression, first fondling my backside before a finger commenced tantalizing my pucker.

Fuck! What is happening here? I thought to myself.  

As his finger started ploughing my hole, I was in ecstasy. I was not sure what I should do but gently moved fully onto my stomach.

When his hot breath assailed my ear and said, “I’m going to fuck you,” every dream came true for me.

“Uh-huh,” I whimpered, like a bitch in heat.

After his hand coerced me closer to the middle of the bed his frame, mounted me in a flash. As I felt his epic knob nestled in my crack, he said, “I am going to dry-fuck you, buddy, can you take it?”

“Yeah, I want to feel that cock of yours rip my arse to shreds,” I said with bravado.

“Good, I hate lube. It makes everything too slippery. I like the rasping feel of a tight pussy battling with my dry dick,” he affirmed.

“Well, fuck me,” confirmed.

The entry was agonizingly splendid, and I bit my pillow in response. The chaffing took me to an unimaginable state of pleasure as he grunted in triumph.  

“Take it you whore,” he commenced intoning, among a litany of other insults. “You’ve always wanted this cock.”

As I lay there bleating lustfully, his thrusting grew in intensity as he began bouncing on top of me. Buster was not a sprinter, and his machinations seemed never-ending. My arse was on fire when he finally unloaded into me.

When he finally rolled off me, I immediately began worshipping at his manhood in a subservient act of appreciation. After slurping at his dick and balls, I encouraged his legs upward before lapping at his pucker.

The sounds Buster now made were unearthly as he whimpered in ecstasy.

“Jesus, buddy, no one has ever done that to me before,” he gushed.

Taking a breather from my rimming, I said, “That because you straight boys are too stupid to realize your arses are an erogenous zone.”

After returning to his backside, I gave his pucker a hectic workover with my mouth. To my delight, his cock once more stiffened.

‘’Have you got anything left in the tank?’’ I mischievously inquired.

My bravado led to a night of endless and merciless fucking as he proved his manliness over and over again. It was heavenly!

Thereafter, all disputes with his mother resulted in stayovers at my home. Luckily, she wasn’t perturbed by this and even thanked me for being so kind to her son.

Like all the people on the ‘Rate My Cock’ site, I also raved about his dick. Out of a possible five stars, however, I gave him six stars.