Rent Boys Revisited
INTRO
Author's Note: Nifty has existed for a long time, publishing stories that other media will not touch, and gets by on donated stories and cash. Contribute what you can.
My stories are copyrighted by me, not that I am thinking any of them are going to be copied and sold for big bucks. I can be reached for questions and comments at samnhsamnh@outlook.com.
Fiction usually has a basis in fact, whether it is a Civil War battle, a location, or an action. You can wonder about what I write, but note that the names are NOT ever the real ones, but many of the places are, and many of the acts are, but hopefully scrambled enough not to embarrass, or out, anyone.
If you are expecting the usual M/M romance, where they meet, there is a misunderstanding, they part, somehow the misunderstanding is explained, and they live happily ever after, this is not that. These stories are primarily a set of short stories, or vignettes, and if you are expecting a New Yorker short story with three movements, this is not that either. These are more or less chronological sets of stories about the experiences of several young men, keep in mind, it is fiction, not fact. Note that some of the protagonists are gay, and some bi-sexual, and some think they are straight, to start with, but find out something else along the way. All are written under my pen name, Excoach.
The Rent Boy stories take place in New England small city, it could be New Bedford, or Waterbury, or Manchester NH, or Brattleboro, or any of the other such places. Visualize the one that comes to mind and you will be able to set the scene. For those who are not familiar with New England, because the prevailing winds are from the west, a century and a half ago, when the industrial revolution began, with clouds of coal smoke and chemical odors, the wealthy tended to live in the western suburbs, and still do, the poor in the inner city, the middle class on the eastern side.
Rent Boys - Jason's story -- Part 1
I was, and still am, half Caucasian and half Vietnamese. My name is Jason Tran Smith. My father was in Vietnam during the war, a Captain in the Marines, and hooked up with a Vietnamese woman, they were in love, she was from a middle class family that had lost everything to the North Vietnamese, I was born while he was still there in 1971 as the war was winding down, he took me back to the US with him as a 4 month old baby, while she stayed behind, and, he could not get her out, and after a few years of trying she fell in love with a Vietnamese guy, they married, had kids, and eventually, did well. (We met again when I was 40 and Vietnam had become a tourist destination -- who knew?) But the Tran is a reminder of my Vietnamese heritage.
At 16, I was a typical horny kid.
So, at 16, a month before the adventures told below, my father died, of cancer. Looking back on it, it was probably due to exposure to Agent Orange, in Vietnam. He had been married before he want to Vietnam, was cheating with my Vietnamese mother, his US wife divorced him when he showed up with this four-mouth old brown baby (me), and he never remarried. He did, however, have a succession of girlfriends, some of whom were great to me, and some of whom were not.
Upon his death I was the beneficiary of my father's life insurance policies, including one that paid the mortgage on our house, and got monthly benefits from Social Security and the VA., and a little from part time jobs. There was also a small trust fund that I would come into at 18.
I also inherited from him the best of his Caucasian features, namely my height, 6', a big cock and balls, and good upper body, and the best of my mother's Vietnamese features, namely light brown skin, except my cock and balls which were much darker, about the longest foreskin I have ever encountered -- even fully hard there is an inch of it hanging over but it does fully pull back revealing a very purple head and pink skin underneath otherwise-- and jet black, straight, hair on my head, under my arms, and surrounding my cock and balls, none elsewhere, except a few strays by my nips and on my treasure trail which I kept shaved in my sexual adventure years.
As noted, I am 6', have weighed around 180 all my adult life, was 160 when I was 16, the difference being muscle added between 16 and 20 for the most part.
I was bi, although I did not know the word, when I was 13, and had played with more than one of my buddies, mostly just jerking off, but I had been blown, and I had fucked a guy by the time my father died
Mr. Ransom, my father's lawyer, and some well-meaning family members, second cousins, for the most part, wanted me to move and live with them, the closest relative being my Aunt Irene, my father's sister, who clearly did NOT want me moving in with her. All lived somewhere else than where all my friends were, but having lost my father, I did not want to lose everyone else, and convinced Mr. Ransom and others that I could manage. Most of my life it had been just my father and me, by the time I was 14 we were sharing all the household chores, including cooking, and in my father's last 5 months, I was doing it all, cooking, grocery shopping for a well-balanced diet, cleaning, the lawn, the snow shoveling, so I could manage, and I did. In the last five months we had help come in, in the daytime when I was in school, to toilet and bathe him, but otherwise I did it all as he gradually died.
There were several caretakers, over the 5 months, mostly women, but a few guys, one of whom was very clearly gay, and very clearly wanted to get in my pants. Xavier was second generation Puerto Rican, spoke English and Spanish, and, if I got home before the end of his shift, would help with my Spanish, particularly pronunciation, pointing out the differences between "pure" Spanish which we were learning in school, and the Puerto Rican dialect and vocabulary, which had many American words, as well as all the dirty words. He usually wore hospital scrubs, commando, and sitting next to me, on the couch, with the Spanish book open, it was clear that he was hard, and, then, with our thighs rubbing, it was clear that I was as well.
"Your dad is asleep, want some help with that?" he asked one afternoon.
"Sure," I responded, and he proceeded to open my 501's, button by button, and pulled my cock out, and immediately went down on it. He pulled my foreskin back, and treated the head of my cock, which was very sensitive, with care. I put my hands on his head, and I came in about 90 seconds. He swallowed all my cum. His cock was leaving clear precum wet spots on his scrubs. Then, my father, who was in a hospital bed in the den, called for Xavier, he tended him, his shift was over, and so there was no reciprocation that time. This went on for the last months of my father's life, maybe two times a week when Xavier was on duty, and only if my father was asleep. He always blew me, and, then, sometimes, he would jerk off, but did not want me to play with his cock, let alone blow him.
I had played with some of my friends, and had jerked off a lot, but Xavier was my real introduction to gay sex.