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Copyright 2013 by Macout Mann. All rights reserved.
DADDY'S PIMP
by Macout Mann
IX
Kyle hadn't checked out the bus station before. He'd heard that most of the guys that hung out around there were hustling; and although Roger could be generous to his boys, he didn't go for out and out prostitutes.
In the guise of seeking a playmate for his dad, however, Kyle thought he might get into something interesting for himself. He found a parking place and strolled around the block that the bus station occupied. And yes, there were several guys that were obviously hustling, but near one corner was a thin, chocolate colored dude of medium height with features more Caucasian than African. He was just leaning against the wall gazing at passersby. His shirt was unbuttoned and his hands were stuffed into well-worn jeans. As he passed, Kyle could see that the object of the young man's gaze was the bulge in Kyle's tight shorts.
On his next pass Kyle smiled at his handsome quarry, and was pleased to see that his smile was returned.
Completing his third trip around the block Kyle stopped and casually confronted the young black, saying "Whew, sorta warm for this time of year, aint it?"
"Yes, but they tell me that in a few weeks we'll all be complaining because it's too cold," came the answer. His voice was sort of high pitched, and the accent and word choice was definitely not Carolinian.
"You just hanging out?" Kyle asked.
"Yes, trying to see what's going on here."
"Well, I can tell you're not from around here."
"No, I'm from Bermuda. I've been visiting relatives in the states. Came down here from New York."
"Quite a difference, eh?" Kyle chuckled.
"Oh, there were a few lads--like some of these here--that were hanging around the Port Authority Bus Terminal up in New York."
"You'll find them anywhere," Kyle retorted. "That what you're doing? Doesn't seem like it."
"Not overtly, anyway," the good looking black laughed. "Not that I wouldn't take money, if someone offered it to me."
"Well, I don't pay or get paid," Kyle said, "but I know a neat club where we can get a drink, if you're game.
His companion looked skeptical. "I'm only twenty," he said. "They won't let me in."
"This place will. I'm just nineteen, and I'm a regular. I can vouch for you."
"My uncle says I need to be very careful down here. People our color can get in trouble much easier than boys like you can."
Kyle gave the guy a friendly pat on the ass. "Don't worry about that, man.
"My name's Jimmy," he added, guiding his new friend toward his car.
"Glen," the black Adonis replied. "Good to meet you."
On the short drive to Elmer's Tune, neither gave any further indication that he was gay. Kyle was thinking he might have misjudged, and when they entered the club and it was apparent what sort of club it was, Glen didn't react one way or another. They found a secluded table, ordered, and began to chat.
Kyle asked about life in Bermuda, and in turn recited some of the details of Jimmy's concocted resume. Finally Glen said, "Well, I guess the fact that they'll serve you here without checking your ID isn't the only reason you like this club."
"Yeah, I'm gay," Kyle replied. "You too?"
"I think you knew that from the first time you passed me at the bus station. Back home, I have a friend. I get together with him and his father. All the time. Here it's more difficult."
"My father would love to get together with you. We can arrange that later. I'd love to check you out right now. Want to go over to the park?"
They found Kyle's familiar trail deserted and feasted on each other's hard rods. Glen had the ample equipment his race is famous for, and he found Kyle's dick more than adequate.
Kyle got Glen's phone number and email address and promised that next time they could go to his place. He promised to set something up in a day or two, then dropped Glen at his uncle's house. It was in the city's nicest black neighborhood.
The following night, however, it was Dwight's turn to meet with Roger. As usual, Kyle was amazed at Dwight's devil-may-care attitude. He had sucked Kyle dry, and Kyle was lounging on a sofa watching Dwight bob up and down on his dad's prong. Roger was on his back, moaning with pleasure each time Dwight's ass plopped down on his pubes. The door to upstairs suddenly opened and Kyle's mother entered carrying an email printout. Her appearance ruffled Dwight not at all. Kyle even thought the boy might ask her if she'd like to join the party, but Margaret spoke first.
"Sorry to disturb you all," she began, "but I just got word from Father that Willie has died. His funeral is going to be in San Francisco."
That news even caused Dwight to stop his gyrations. Still he showed no sign of embarrassment. He just slipped over to a neutral spot on the mattress and waited. Roger did sit up with a questioning look.
"Father refuses to go," Margaret continued. "He says Willie is no longer his son. But he wants me to represent the family; and after all, Willie is my brother, and we were once very close."
"And you want me to go too?" Roger asked.
"Suit yourself," she said. "He was your first, you know."
"And I wouldn't be where I am now, if he hadn't fucked up," Roger added. It was funny how things had worked out. If Willie hadn't been arrested in a gay encounter, he would be president of the foundation instead of Roger. Clarence, Willie's lover, would have Ben's job as number two. Hard to say what Roger and Ben would be doing. "But I don't feel any obligation," Roger concluded
He turned to Kyle. "Would you like to go with your mother, son?"
"I've been out there once," Kyle responded. "I'll go, if you want me to, Mom. To keep you company."
"Not necessary," she said.
Roger got up and said, "I'll arrange a flight for you." He guided his wife back upstairs, leaving the boys alone.
"Well, I guess I should take you home," Kyle said.
"Not yet, man, I still need some cream in my ass."
Dwight rolled onto his back and lifted his legs, holding them in place with his arms. Kyle didn't waste a second before he was on the mattress. He shoved his dick where Roger's had been, and began to slowly plunge it in and out of Dwight's already well-lubed orifice. Dwight had drained Kyle so thoroughly earlier that Kyle knew he could last forever; and Dwight was enthralled by Kyle's passionate thrusts, crying "Yes!" or "Fuck!" or "Pound that ass!" as Kyle had his way with him.
Finally, Dwight yelled "Give me some cum, man!" Kyle was beginning to get sore, so he increased the pace of his humping, finally dumping a fresh load into the other boys colon.
"Yeah. Fill my ass!" Dwight moaned.
As he drove Dwight back home Kyle said, "Dude, I don't know how you can be so laid back. When my mom came in, you didn't miss a fucking beat. If I'd been you, I'd have shit all over myself!"
"Hell, man, me and Mom lived in an efficiency. When I was real little, I didn't know what Mom and her boyfriends were doing, but I figured it must be normal. When I got older, I just got excited watching what was going on and pretending to be asleep. The first time one of her boyfriends decided to get with me, I think Momma was upset, but she was too drunk to object. She just watched me give him head. In time we just began to hang loose. Whatever happened was o.k. She still has dudes fuck her. I bring home guys and sometimes gals. The gals usually get uptight about not having any privacy and sometimes won't put out. Most dudes don't give a shit. I sure as hell don't.
"You think I could fuck your mom?"
Kyle was beyond being shocked. He'd never thought about that. "Maybe," he said, "I think she prefers gals, though."
"So what? I like guys."
Suddenly, Dwight turned the tables on Kyle. "I didn't see you get hung up when your mom showed up, Jimmy," he said. "She ever watched you have sex?"
"No," Kyle responded. "I do know that she's seen a video of me with another guy, though."
"Cool! I'd like to see a video of me fucking or getting fucked."
Kyle didn't tell him there were cameras all over the den recording his every encounter.