Ryan Murray deftly swung his glossy black minivan into the service lane that separated two of the larger airline terminals at LAX. The tall, lanky 27-year-old in slacks and crisp polo shirt was such a familiar sight that the airport employees didn't seem to even notice him going in and out of the terminals to repair the many ATMs scattered throughout the airport. The machines jammed or ran out of paper or otherwise malfunctioned so often that on any given day Ryan would spend most of his afternoon and evening at the huge, complicated international airport.
Lately he had been watching the airport cops as he pushed his little cart through the various buildings, and realized that they, too, no longer seemed to notice him. He was part of the furniture, and wasn't even on their radar screen. The parking security ignored him, the taxi drives ignored him, he could come and go as he pleased and not be noticed. His minivan had the necessary stickers to allow him to park pretty much anywhere he wanted. It also had tinted windows all around, so no one outside could see inside. Perfect.
It was near lunchtime, when Ryan would get the usual hour's break from twelve to one, and he had decided this morning that today would be the day. He climbed out of the minivan but left his service cart and tools inside. The little vehicle chirped loudly as Ryan locked the doors, just to make sure the tools of his trade didn't disappear during his break.
There were several types of homeless young men around the airport, he had noticed. Some called themselves gutterpunks, and were always giving the airport police attitude and drawing attention to themselves. They dressed in worn, dirty but surprisingly hip clothing -- skin-tight pants, huge clunky Docs or Chucks on their feet, and army fatigue jackets -- and even their messy hair seemed somehow surprisingly hip. They nested together in little tribes, watched out for each other fiercely, and were always in the face of the cops. Ryan tried to avoid the gutterpunks, even though several of them, he had to admit, were pretty cute.
Ryan walked to the far end of the airline terminal, took a quick glance around, and stepped behind a row of newspaper racks. A young man about nineteen or twenty sat on the concrete between the racks and the wall, and looked up as the neatly dressed ATM tech approached him.
Ryan had noticed the young homeless man nearly a month before, and had been watching him. He was one of the young loners, another of the several types of airport homeless, and he stayed as far away from the gutterpunks as Ryan did. He was dressed the same every day, wearing what Ryan figured were probably clothes from the last group home he ran away from or got kicked out of. The young loners were mostly runaways who had "aged out" of the social services that had kept them off the streets, and ended up with few if any good options. This one clearly had no options left, good or bad, and that made him perfect for what Ryan had in mind.
Besides being very young looking, this one was unquestionably cute and would probably be a real stunner if anyone ever cleaned him up, something Ryan had no intention of doing. He wanted this one just the way he was. His jeans were filthy and beltless, his t-shirt with the logo of a brand of Mexican beer was mottled with stains and dirt, and he wore a pair of ratty, dirty socks without shoes. His rimless round glasses gave him something of a John Lennon look. His hair, long and straw blond, was a tangled mess. Most of the loner boys carried a small backpack; this one, for whatever reason, didn't have one. He pushed his glasses up his nose and looked at Ryan curiously. Ryan spoke as gently as he could.
"Hi. Mind if I sit and talk?"
"Kay," the young man croaked, then cleared his throat and said it again a bit more loudly. He probably didn't do a lot of talking.
The smell of dried sweat, filthy clothing, and from the looks of the t-shirt, dried vomit, almost made Ryan vomit himself as he sat down. He turned toward the boy, and found himself looking into the most perfectly beautiful light brown, almost amber, eyes he had ever seen, slightly magnified by the glasses. The quiet ATM repairman was hooked at first sight, but still struggled to keep his gag reflex down. Ryan had eaten only plain bread with a glass of milk before he left for work; he planned to make contact with the homeless boy today, and wanted something bland in his stomach to help him fight his body's natural urge to retch.
"My name's Ryan," he said in the same gentle tone. He imagined the boy wasn't used to having conversations. The boy blinked and seemed to think about the name for a moment, then cleared his throat again and spoke.
"Is this about some religion? No offense but I'm just not interested in that." With everyone from Hare Krishnas to Mormons prowling the airport at all hours, Ryan wasn't surprised that even the homeless guys got preached at occasionally.
"No religion," Ryan answered with a gentle smile. "I see you here every day and thought I'd say hi and talk."
The boy looked back with a blank expression, and finally spoke.
"I'm Kevin. I've been here six months and you're the only person other than the cops who's ever talked to me."
Ryan extended his hand to shake Kevin's. The boy looked at Ryan's hand suspiciously, then grasped Ryan's hand tightly for just a moment, and their eyes locked. Good enough, Ryan thought.
"Where are you from?" Ryan asked. "I grew up here in L.A."
"Sacramento."
"How old are you?"
"Nineteen."
Nineteen years old, Ryan thought, suddenly feeling his dick getting hard. He tried to ask his next question as gently and softly as he could, as he knew this one would make or break the whole deal.
"Would you like to hang out for a while? I've got an hour break. If you want I'll get you a burger and fries at the drive-thru."
Kevin looked down at his socks with a sad expression.
"If this is some kind of joke it's fucking mean."
"No joke, Kevin," Ryan answered with an innocent smile. "I'll buy you lunch, and we can hang out and talk."
The minivan seemed like a torture chamber to Ryan with the windows rolled up and Kevin's smell filling the small car, but he couldn't take the risk of anyone spotting him with his new friend. As he drove down Century Boulevard to the fast food restaurant, Ryan tried to breathe through his mouth only. It was all he could do to keep the bile from rising in his throat from the stink of Kevin's body and clothes. Even so, Ryan felt his stiff dick pressing against his work slacks. His plan was working.
Ryan was a little bit hungry, but didn't order anything for himself at the drive-thru. He knew he could never keep the nausea down if he ate. Kevin got a double cheeseburger, large fries and a large soda. They parked in a far corner of the parking lot behind the restaurant. The parking space was the only one on the far side of the trash dumpster, and mostly hid the minivan from view. Ryan gratefully rolled the windows down and got a short break from the smell. Kevin ate like he was starving, thanked Ryan sincerely for the meal, and talked about Sacramento and the group homes. He seemed happy just to be away from the airport for a while.
"I gotta piss from that soda," Kevin said, "would it be all right if I take a piss behind that dumpster?"
"If you'll let me watch," Ryan replied. The look of suspicion flickered across the boy's face again for a moment, then he opened the door of the minivan and stepped out. Ryan could hardly believe his luck, this was going to make everything much easier.
Kevin's jeans were not buttoned at the top, and he pulled the zipper down and let the fly hang open. He wasn't wearing underwear, and had a small amount of dark black pubic hair, not unusual for blonds. He pulled his dick out and held it loosely between his thumb and forefinger, then looked up at Ryan.
"Can you see okay?"
"Fine."
Ryan could see the muscles tighten and loosen slightly in the boy's lower abdomen, and in a moment a stream of dark yellow urine painted the dumpster and pooled on the concrete behind it. Kevin leaned forward and watched closely, his own dick straining against his slacks again. Kevin was fairly well hung, cut, with a large plum-shaped head. It was surprisingly fairly clean and didn't have any sores or other bad signs. When the urine stopped flowing, Kevin still held his dick out and looked up at Ryan.
"That what you wanted?"
Ryan nodded. "Thank you."
"No problemo." Kevin tucked his dick back inside and pulled up the zipper before stepping back into the minivan. Ryan rolled the windows back up, put his hand on the homeless boy's shoulder and looked him in the eyes with the most innocent and non-threatening look he could muster.
"Do you think you'd be interested in making some money?"
"Probably," Kevin answered, face blank.
"How much money is a lot of money to you?"
"Anything, to be honest," the boy replied. "Ten bucks. I haven't had any money at all for months."
"I'll give you twenty to let me suck your dick till you cum." Ryan pulled a twenty from his wallet and held it out to Kevin, who looked at it silently for a few moments, swallowed hard, then took it and stuffed it into a pocket of his jeans.
The boy raised his butt off the right seat of the minivan and shoved his jeans down to his knees. His ball sac was pink and bulging with large, egg-shaped balls, and his dick flopped back onto his belly, spread out for Ryan to see and enjoy. Ryan could see what appeared to be dried cum stuck to Kevin's pubic hairs.
"Do you jack off a lot?" Ryan asked.
Kevin let out a long sigh. "Couple times a day. It's the only fun I have." He was silent for a few moments before speaking again in a near-whisper. "I know how dirty I am down there, dude. I'll give you your money back if you can't go through with it."
The concentrated smell of the boy's body odor in the car was almost overpowering, but Ryan knew better than to open a window and risk anyone seeing Kevin. He wasn't going to ask for his money back -- he would let the kid keep the twenty either way -- but Ryan wasn't sure at all he could go through with his fantasy.
"Could you get naked for me? Please?" Ryan asked as softly and gently as he could, he wanted Kevin to feel safe and at ease. Kevin pushed his jeans down to his feet and kicked them off, then pulled his t-shirt off over his head and tossed it on the floor of the car on top of the jeans and relaxed into the minivan's bucket seat. When the smell of the boy's entire naked body hit him, Ryan tasted sour bile and forced it back down with a hard swallow. The kid was giving him everything he wanted, it would wreck it all now if he started retching or worse. Ryan had been obsessed for months with the fantasy of giving oral sex to a young homeless man. He could barely believe he actually had a filthy, stinking, homeless 19 year old boy completely naked in the minivan waiting for Ryan to blow him.
Ryan put his right arm around Kevin's thin shoulders and started massaging the homeless boy's dirty, sweaty chest and stomach with his free hand. Kevin took off his glasses and carefully set them on the dashboard of the van. Ryan looked into the boy's peaceful amber eyes for a long moment. Kevin settled back against Ryan's arm, closed his eyes, and whispered "That feels nice."
Kevin's body was pale skin stretched tightly over a rack of bones. He looked like what he was, a teenage kid who hadn't eaten much in six months. His nipples were flat, ruddy pink and about the size of a quarter. His belly button was an outie the size of a gumball.
Ryan leaned over, took Kevin's soft dick gently in his hand, and began licking the head of it with his tongue. The taste of the boy's skin was like sour milk mixed with dog sweat and the smell of a cum rag that hasn't been washed in too long. Kevin's dick stirred slightly and slowly began to stiffen. The homeless teen let out a long breath and whispered "I don't know how you can stand to do that, but fuck, that feels good."
Ryan looked up into Kevin's eyes for a long moment. "I'm glad you like it."
Kevin's lips trembled and a tear ran down his left cheek toward his chin. "No one has touched me in six months. When you shook my hand back at the airport, that was the first touch I had had from anyone in six whole months."
Ryan decided he was going to give his new friend a mind-bending blowjob, no matter how horrible it smelled or tasted. He kissed the head of Kevin's dick passionately until he was hard, then slurped all seven filthy, stinking inches into his mouth and started sucking it, applying just the right amount of suction with his cheeks and using his tongue to give the boy the sensation of a pussy.
Kevin began to moan, his voice seeming to come from deep within. The amber-eyed teen ground his hips into the bucket seat like he was giving it a lap dance as Ryan gave him the blowjob of his life. After nearly three minutes of moaning and grinding the boy shuddered suddenly and moaned loudly, then pushed Ryan's head down with his hands and lifted his hips up off the seat. Two shots of hot semen hit the back of Ryan's throat, and more shots filled his mouth as he continued to suck. Kevin held Ryan's head tightly between his large hands until the squirts subsided. When the boy let go and collapsed into the bucket seat completely spent, Ryan swallowed hard and licked his lips. Kevin was staring at him, his clear brown eyes nearly crossed and his mouth open and panting. Ryan began rubbing the boy's smooth chest again, and leaned over and kissed him gently on the mouth.
"Thanks," Ryan whispered.
"What's your name again?"
"Ryan."
"Ryan, that... I'm not gay, but that felt fucking awesome, man."
Ryan looked deeply into Kevin's spectacular eyes. "I don't know if you'll believe this, but I like you. A lot. I work at the airport every day. I was wondering if you enjoyed this enough to hang out with me again tomorrow."
"Hell fucking yes. This was... jesus this was nice, Ryan. I can't believe YOU want to do this again."
Ryan put his head on Kevin's shoulder and whispered, "Hell fucking yes."