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Ian's Story -- Part 4
Now having occasional sex with Rodney, and with Mr. O'Reilly, but both for free (although I am sure Mr. O'Reilly was losing money given how much food and hot water I used despite my paying him "room and board") I was still jerking off a lot, and wanting more sex.
So, on winter nights when it was not too cold, and not snowing, I would go back to the Meat Rack, and that is how I met Judge Otis.
Other guys had told me about Judge Otis. He liked to be fucked by young guys, he did not pay, but if you ever got into his courtroom he would be as lenient with you as he could get away with: a "get out of jail free" card, as it were.
I was hanging out on the Meat Rack, it the weather was great for February, a guy came over to me and asked if I were free and wanted to play. I said, sure. He led me across the park to big black Oldsmobile, opened the back door, and ushered me in. Sitting there was an old guy.
"What is your name, kid?" he asked.
"Ian," I answered.
"Last name?"
"Ingram." ???
"Where are you living?"
"On Broad Street, with Mr. O'Reilly, I used to live at Sacred Heart until it was closed."
"And before that?"
"With my parents, but my father kicked me out when he found out I had sex with guys."
"Do you fuck Mr. O'Reilly?"
"I don't kiss and tell."
His assistant, drove us to the suburbs to an industrial building, we went through a series of doors, and then into a nice apartment of a sort. It had a big bed, a bar, refrigerator, bathroom, big TV. The assistant put on a video of gay porn.
"Strip." I did. "Get hard." I did, it was no problem with the gay porn playing.
Judge Otis sat on the edge of the bed, and watched me, took his smaller than average, but hard, cock out, and began to play with it. The assistant was sitting in an easy chair, and fondling his cock through his pants. He never took it out, but I think he came in his pants when I was fucking the Judge.
"Come here," said the Judge.
I walked over to him and he took my cock in his mouth, cupped my balls, and gave me one of the best blow jobs of my life, so far. He lubed up a finger, and my hole, and put my finger in, and I came.
"Can you do it again?" he asked.
"Sure, I can stay hard, and last longer the next time."
"Good, I want you to fuck me for at least ten minutes, but I have things to do, so it won't be more than twenty, and I want you to try to cum just after I do, and empty the condom on my cock and balls. Do you think you can do that?"
"I'll try my best."
It was not hard to do. I could stay hard, looking at the porn, and if I got too close, by looking at the judge who was going to flab, smallish cock, smaller balls, saggy tits, balding, I slowed down. After about 15 minutes, he said, "Now, I am going to cum, fuck me hard."
I did. He came all over his belly and pubes, his cum was yellowish, and thick, I pulled my condom off and jerked off onto his face and chest and cock and balls. My cum was thinner, and shot a lot farther, even though I had cum a few minutes earlier.
The assistant stopped massaging his cock through his pants, I think that is when he came, and he got ready to take me back.
The assistant then drove me back to the park, he said nothing, I sat up front with him. He had the radio on to a country station, a song about a man whose woman had left him for another man, he was singing along quietly.
The assistant picked me up, about once a month, for about six months, until I starting using the hard drugs, and he did not ever again. The sex was always the same -- Judge Otis admired my body, got hard, blew me, had me fuck him, different positions different times, I was to cum just after he did so I could jerk off onto his body, but no money. He really was not interested in my problems, or my adventures, just in getting off with me as his inspiration, I guess.