CHOICES
CHAPTER 3, Version B-2 (You chose: Steve will have his first gay sex)
"Anything else you want to know about a queer whore-boy?" the young hustler asked as he cast his eyes toward the Hudson River.
"Hey!" Steve interrupted. "Don't talk about yourself that way. You've obviously got courage to get out of a bad environment. You've got initiative to make it on your own. I can tell from just talking to you that you're bright. And believe me; I don't condemn you for what you're doing."
A half-grin crossed the young man's face as he said, "Thanks, mister. Most people treat me like scum—even my customers. You're not like that."
"I'm still curious," Steve said. "Why do you hustle sex? Have you tried to get a regular job?"
He laughed for the first time since we met. "Whose gonna hire a seventeen-year-old high school drop-out?" he asked with a confrontational tone. "I've tried a lot of places but the only one that was half interested was a greasy spoon café. They wanted a dishwasher but sent me away because I didn't have a Social Security number. Don't need that for what I do now. Besides ... I don't know why I'm telling you this but I enjoy what I do. I like sex. Even if the customer is old or fat or drunk or stinks of cigarette smoke."
"So you're happy doing what you do?
He thought about that for a while and said, "Mostly. I really do like the sex. I can't seem to get enough of it. But then..."
He dropped his eyes to the ground. Steve guessed that he didn't want to talk about the downside of his work. However, Steve had a number of questions so he said, "But then...what?" Steve wondered if it was his imagination or did the boy seem suddenly sad.
"It's not all pleasure," the teen almost whispered. "I go hungry when I can't find a customer. Living on the street isn't like living with a family. And there's the occasional odd ball who gets off on kinky stuff like spanking or making me act like a ten-year-old. One guy even wanted to shave me to make me look like a little kid. I grabbed my clothes and ran. Most guys just want a blow job or to fuck me. That's the kind of sex I like."
Steve felt terribly sorry for the young man. The problems with kinky customers didn't affect him nearly as much as having to live on the street.
"Do you ever spend a whole night with a customer and sleep in a real bed?"
"Twice," he replied. "Most guys just want a quickie and then I'm off, hoping to find another customer."
"I can offer you a bed to sleep in. I live in the dorm. My room mate is gone until Sunday night. You can stay in my room for three nights. There's no obligation for sex. I just want to give you three nights of comfort. You'll be free to come and go as you please but you'll have a bed to sleep in ... and a hot shower if you want. How about it?"
"You don't want sex?" the wide-eyed boy asked in a tone of disbelief.
"I would love to have sex with you but that's not why I made the offer. It's not much but I'd simply like to do you a favor. And I would enjoy having company."
"I'd like to, mister, but I'm supposed to meet one of my regular customers tonight."
"Like I said, you're free to come and go as you like. Will you spend the night with your customer?"
"Nah. All he wants is to undress me in the back of his van and jerk me off. By that time, he's hard. He gives me a quick fuck, pays me, and says goodbye."
"Okay. Come with me to the dorm. You can shower. Change clothes if you like. I'm guessing you have clothes in your gym bag."
The young teen looked at Steve for a long time without speaking. Steve was about to encourage him further but the lad asked, "Why are you doing this?"
"I told you. I want to do you a favor. You're a good kid who's had a tough time. Maybe I can make it easier for you ... at least for a few nights of decent sleep."
"Okay," he said.
Steve took him to his dorm room. It was sparsely furnished but his guest was impressed with the books, the posters, and the clothes in the closet. Steve asked if he wanted to shower and he said that would be nice. Steve gave him a towel, soap, and shampoo, and then said, "The dorm is almost empty but I think I'd better go with you in case someone finds a stranger in the shower. I'll introduce you as my cousin who's visiting. What's your name?"
"Jose Delgado."
"Mine is Steve Randolph. You don't have to call me Mister any more."
He took a very long, very hot shower and seemed to enjoy it thoroughly.
Since there was no longer any need to conceal his sexual interests, Steve didn't try to be discrete. Instead, he took full advantage of the opportunity to feast his eyes on his sleek, firm, naked body. The teen noticed Steve's admiring stare—and growing erection—grinned, making a deliberate effort to show off his manly cock and balls. He even turned away and bent over to dry his legs, showing his firm ass and puckered hole. His exhibition gave Steve a full erection that he tried to hide. The lad saw it and laughed, "You like what you see, Mister?"
"Yes," Steve said hoarsely. "Very much. But call me Steve.' No more Mister.' Okay?"
"Okay, Steve," he said before taking an unnecessary amount of time to dry his crotch.
As they walked back to the dorm room, the promise of no sex haunted Steve. He had been sincere in inviting the homeless boy for a few nights sleep in a real bed but his resolve to keep his promise was fading. Lust was gaining the upper hand over honoring the promise.
Back in the dorm room, Steve went to the closet for some clean clothes. Jose dug through his gym bag for his.
When Steve saw that Jose's clothes were not only dirty but threadbare and ragged. he said, "It looks like your clothes have seen better days. I have some I don't need." He pulled out a pair of chino slacks from the closet, a tee shirt, a sweat shirt, and two pair of socks from a drawer, and handed them to him. "Take these. To keep. You'll look even more handsome in them."
Jose looked at Steve as though the offer may have been perceived as an insult but said, "Mine are sort of dirty, aren't they?"
"That's understandable," Steve said, trying to soften the criticism implied by my offer.
Steve thought he saw a tear in Jose's eye as the young man looked up and said, "Why are you being so nice to a whore- boy?"
"STOP IT!" Steve exclaimed. "You're not a whore-boy. I've already told you. You're a young man who had the good sense to get out of a bad environment ... who has the initiative to make it on your own ... who uses the talents you can to survive. Why am I being nice? Because I respect you! There's not much I can do to help you except give you a few nights of comfort but you deserve that and more."
Jose was startled at the emphatic tone and just stood looking at his benefactor. Suddenly, he wrapped his arms around Steve's waist, laid his head on Steve's shoulder, and cried. Steve returned his hug and held him tightly. They stood there with only the towels around their waists preventing full-body, skin-on- skin contact. Were it not for the tears and shuddering sobs, it would have been highly erotic. But at that moment, all Steve felt was sympathy for a young man who no doubt had a lot of potential but was the victim of both poverty and others' hatred of homosexuals.
When he gained a little control of his emotions, Jose apologized for crying. Steve assured him that it was okay for a man to cry and he should not be ashamed of it. Jose seemed to settle down and Steve led him to over to sit on the edge of my bed. What came next was a complete surprise.
Jose took off the towel from his waist and dropped it on the floor. He took off Steve's towel and let it fall to the floor. He lay back down, pulling Steve down to lie beside him. He then crawled on top of Steve and began kissing him. Steve wondered if it was just gratitude. The question was answered when Jose ground their crotches together. The motives, Steve correctly concluded may have included gratitude but sex was a prominent part of the mix.
Steve pushed Jose's face away and said, "I promised you. You're not obligated to have sex with me."
"But I want it!" he exclaimed. "I want you. I've wanted you ever since I saw you in the park. This is not business like the others. I like you. I want to make you happy. I want to be happy too. Please don't say no. Let me make love to you."
Steve didn't need any more convincing. As a frustrated homosexual, he was about to lose his virginity. He had been propositioned by a street hustler but was in bed with a tragic and admirable young man who was demanding sex ... not for money, not entirely out of appreciation for a small favor, but (he wanted to think) because a deeper bond had been formed between the two.
More than an hour later, after an experience that persisted vividly in Steve's memory for decades, they broke their contented embrace and got out of bed.
"Let's get some supper," Steve said. "Then you can go to your appointment with your customer."
"That's all right," he said. "You bought me a big lunch. You don't have to buy me supper, too."
"Nonsense," Steve replied. "I have to eat anyway and I'd like to have the company of a handsome young man. Now let's get dressed."
Jose gave Steve a hug and a kiss and said, "Thanks, Mister ... Oops! I mean thanks, Steve."
Without logical analysis of the two roads that opened up before him, Steve chose the one that would lead to a lasting, loving relationship.
THE END
This Part, (3-B-2), is a modified excerpt from a longer story, "The Virgin and the Hustler" previously posted on this site. It chronicles the two lovers' subsequent lives together.