Street Boi -- by jonathanclassof99@yahoo.com
Preface: This story is true. It describes an experience I had in the Autumn of 2002. If descriptions of male sexuality bothers you or offends you, please read no further.
Before reading this story, readers may be interested in first reading a story I wrote about a relationship I had my senior year in high school. It may be read at any nifty.org site:
/nifty/gay/camping/bobby-big-and-tight/
and then reading a story about my Freshman year in college at /nifty/gay/college/starved-for-attention
I.
What exactly is a bad decision? And who says so? Just because a decision is primed by Satan's secret weapons of Beer and Boredom doesn't mean it is necessarily bad for all those involved. As long at nobody gets hurt. Right? Then why do I feel so horrible as I write this? Why do I need confirmation from all who read this that everything is okay, was okay, and will be okay?
II.
The decision to cruise for a street hustler a few weekends ago was in some ways rash, but in so many others ways almost forever anticipated. Yes, at the moment I made the decision it seemed decisive and startling and unexpected, but now in retrospect it had been with me for some time - worn like a hat that fits so well you are no longer conscious of wearing it.
I had had enough. After a couple of abusive relationships and some failed normal ones, my last failure was almost unbearable. I'd been going out with a great guy who decided to move to Ohio to persue a job opportunity. I wasn't going to get on my knees to beg him to stay and wasn't interested in following him to some shit hole in the Midwest. Why wasn't I enough to keep him here? Why was it incumbent upon me to make the emotional appeal to his heart to make him stay, why wasn't I enough, damn it? So in this fog of anger I slowly planned my move to the street even as I wasn't aware of why.
Previous to this time, I'd made some good friends on the 'Net, but they are so damn hard to keep. They are fun and interesting but never much more than superficial chatter, or so it sometimes seems. How can I keep my cyber-friends satisfied when my own "real" relationships are being fractured like small bones? "Yeah, I'd love to send another email but I can't, I just can't do it emotionally or physically, my heart is gone I just can't type another word". That is what I wanted to say to every one of my online friends, but they don't need my problems. Who needs to hear from the AOL man "You've Got Mail.from a depressed loser.please open right now.aren't you pleased?"
But there was one guy, Arnie, I met online who was in his 50's (and me just turned 21 year old). He would write long flowing emails about life in the pre-condom days, when sex was totally wild in New York, LA, and up in Provincetown. Although he'd lost lots of friends during the outbreak of AIDS, he still had fond memories of those days of absolute sexual freedom. But now he lived out his needs as a cruiser. He'd take weekends in cities up and down the East Coast and pay young men working the streets for sex. I liked Arnie because he never propositioned me and never expected anything of me except to listen to his adventures while trading twink pics online.
It was at the time of my latest breakup that I first started to ask Arnie more detailed questions about "how it all works", this paying for sex thing. Arnie indulged me with every particularity and detail of what he called the "glorious negotiation". He explained how you drive up to one of these street kids, how you ask, how you set a price, how you let them in the car, where you park.each and every helpful hint.
After a couple of days of this back and forth, Arnie started getting curious as to why I was asking so many questions about street sex - he asked pointedly if I was interested in becoming a hustler..
"Of course not", I told him, but didn't know what else to say, as I didn't know why I was so interested either.
III.
It was an unusually warm Saturday afternoon this October and Arnie and I were trading emails and pics and I was really depressed. My ex-boyfriend had been in Ohio for a week and I was at my emotional bottom so I started drinking beer around noon. I remember Arnie writing before that he had cruised in New Haven a couple of times in the previous two years and so I asked where exactly it was that he picked up these street boys. I told him I wanted to drive by and check it out to see if they were still hanging around there. Arnie mentioned a few places to drive past so around four o'clock I said bye to Arnie online and told him I'd drop him a line later that night to let him know what was happening around his old haunts. I left my room to head to the local sports bar to catch a college game and some of the scores. And waited for dark.
IV.
It got dark earlier than I had expected and I thought I'd leave the bar directly and go for a drive. I stopped at home on an impulse and took a shower. Usually I would have jerked off in the shower, soaping up my hand and dick and giving myself a good finger fucking while cumming, but this time I just showered and started thinking about where I would be driving. As I stood naked in the shower, I began to wonder how far I might go on this innocent drive around this balmy city of New Haven.
I started driving around an area a couple of blocks from Yale's central campus, an area just beyond where any student would hang out but well before where the city got real scary. There were two bus stops in the area that Arnie had identified as spots where young guys hung out look to score sex for money. Arnie said they'd range in age from 16 to late twenty's and most of them needed the money for drugs or alcohol. I cruised the area a couple of times and I didn't see anyone at all. But on my fourth pass through the area I was starting to really "see" what was up. In some of the nooks and crannies of the streetscape there really were some guys hanging but blending in like lamp posts into the background. I missed them before but there they were. Most people drive past here blind to the camouflaged under-life of this street, but now that I learned how to look, these boys were plain to see.
My heart raced as I started thinking about possibly stopping the car. Could I? Would I have the balls to do it? I reached into a bag in my back seat and pulled out a can of beer while a drove. I downed it in about six big gulps and I was soon lit up again with boozy adrenalin. My heart was pounding so hard I could scarcely breathe as I slowed down in front of a bus shelter near the gated drive of an auto body repair shop.
Leaning against the gate was a thin twenty-something. As soon as the car stopped, he looked around a bit and walked slowly toward the car. I thought of speeding away but I didn't and I almost threw up with nervousness as he approached my window.
I knew what I wanted to say, but it was all I could do to even make a sound. How did I get here? Wasn't I just at a bar sipping beer, then a nice shower in my warm one bedroom apartment? And now I'm looking for some diseased street whore? What's the fuck? Oh yeah, I remember now. Ohio and my heart hurts and I'm fucked in the head unhappy and drunk. This is what always happens to people like me.
I pressed the button to roll down the window and the queer poked his head in. Before I could say anything I registered a look of surprise on his face and he quickly asked, "You lost or something?"
I think he was really surprised by how young I was compare to all his other Johns. God was I nervous. "No, I know where I am. A friend said I could find a date around here."
The hustler said, "Yeah, you can find dates."
Remembering what Arnie had told me, I said, "I've got thirty five bucks, can I get a date from you?" My legs were numb with fear.
He asked back, "What kind of date?"
"A BJ?" I stated and questioned at the same time.
"Yeah, fine. Should I hop in?" he asked.
"Yeah," and I flipped the button to open the door locks.
He opened the door and stepped in. He smelled of the outside cold mixed with the smell of cigarettes, body odor, and a bit of the cheap leather jacket he was wearing. I was already hard as a rock under my shorts and I wanted to grab my dick and starting beating off right then.
He said, "Go straight two blocks, there are some parking spots up there and a little city park." We were almost there when he pointed to a parking space and said, "Just put it there and we'll take a walk".
We got out of the car and he led the way in silence into the park where it turned much darker in the course of about ten yards. He walked behind a bush and I followed. I could still see the street and the buildings around me, but I could tell nobody could see us.
"Where's the money?" he asked.
I had the $35 bucks wadded up in my sock and took it out and gave it to him. He looked at it quickly, put it in the back pocket of his jeans, reached over and pulled down my shorts. He kneeled in front of me and my dick was sticking straight up so much it hurt.
"Well, looks like your ready," he said in a flat tone.
He took my cock in his mouth and moved quickly up and down my shaft. He was holding my balls tightly, almost angrily as he sucked me off. He'd slow just as he reached the head of my dick on his back stroke, but would plunge down hard on the return. Soft and gentle at the top or the stroke, mean, powerful and slamming into my groin on the down suck. In less than a minute, I was ready to blow my load. As I came close to climax, I said, "I'm gonna cum".
Just as I came, he gave my ball sack a determined twist and suck really hard. I went up on my tip toes as the slight pain from by balls mix with the building pleasure. He took my load in his mouth and it was full, meaty one. I exhaled in an audible gasp as I came and pumped many squirts in his mouth, but he didn't swallow he was keeping it all in his mouth. When I stopped spewing, he took his mouth off my cock, leaned over while still holding my dick and spit my load on to the dirt next to my feet.
He gave my cock one last pull with his hand, emptying what little cum was left. Most of it smeared on his hand as he pulled my softening cock that one last time. He wiped he gooey hands on his pants. He stood up and looked at me silently.
I hiked up my pants and said almost automatically, "Want a beer? I have some in the car." The hustler said (with a tone of voice similar to as if I had just bumped into him at a Monet exhibit), "Yeah, that'd be wonderful right about now".
As we walked back to my car, I couldn't help think that this kid actually does this for a living! Sucks cock, gets some cash, and thinks nothing more of it. In a way, very unsettling, but in a darker way deeply appealing. Settling in the car, he downed one beer fast and I quickly offered another as I kept pace with him. Soon, my liquid courage was coming back.
I figured this guy was straight, so I asked, "So, any gay kids hang out around here?"
"No, not right around here," he said as he was sucking back his second beer. "I keep my distance from them. Most of 'em are young and pretty fucked up and call too much attention to themselves. They're down further about four or five blocks closer to where the train track crosses over."
"Do the cops hassle you much," I asked.
"No, most of them don't give a shit as long as you're not breaking into cars or selling drugs," he said. "I actual have a cop as a customer, but he even pays so he's a good shit anyhow. Hey, this is all just a business after all."
He finished his beer and I thought of offering another, but I wanted to get back to Arnie that night so I told I had to get going. He said, "See ya", got out of the car and walked back into the shadows.
V.
I contacted Arnie as soon as I got back to let him know what happened. He had been anxious to hear from me because he was worried I 'd get myself in trouble some how. I explained in detail everything that happened and Arnie congratulated me for having my "cherry popped" -- at least in terms of my maiden voyager to the seedy, street-based body trade.
But what I wanted to now from Arnie was about the gay kids down closer to the train tracks. I explained to Arnie during our email exchange that although this night's adventure was fun, creepy, and exciting, I kind of was expecting more - that it had left me wanting something more intense. I asked what it would take to get someone to come back to my apartment with me and if the gay kids would be more into kissing and spending the night.
Arnie, the old pro that he was, had answers for some of my questions. First, he said, that I'd have to come up with much more than $35 dollars if I wanted company for the night, and second, that if your looking for kissing, snuggling, and "all that crap" the young queers would be much more into it than any of the straight twenty-something's for whom "blow for dough" was all they were into. Arnie said he "might know somebody that might know something" about the area of New Haven I was talking about and that he'd write back if he got some info. Two days later I got a great email from my man Arnie (thanks Arne!) Here it is cut and pasted from his email:
"Jonathan, Sorry it took a bit to get back to you on the new haven thing. I called a guy I've known online and he definitely knows some of the kids there. I think he is a social worker or something and does some free counseling at a drop-in center and uses that to meet some kids. pretty rotten but I think he does care for them too. Anywho, I told him that I was asking on behalf of a"young friend" he said that the area you mentioned is totally goldmine. I told him you were young and sweet (no really) and looking for a friend and he said that there are always sweet kids there looking for a place to stay and that if you want them to stay over and money isn't much of a problem they'll do if for about $100 expecially if its cold out. He said a kid named Trotter is really cool and so is a kid named Jon (that's not you is it? Lol) and BillyB who is new too. Let' me know what you decide to do this is exciting like I was young all over again!-A "
I was rock hard as soon as I read the email and I started rubbing my dick through my jeans. My mind was racing, it was Monday night and I started immediately planning for the weekend. Okay, I thought, I had school during the week days and was working on Friday night, so it had to be Saturday night. I'd start staking out the area every night after finishing my schoolwork between now and the weekend and figure out my plan of attack. I felt so in control! I was gripped by the thought of the power dynamic in my interaction with other guys shifting. Maybe I found a way to be in charge. Finally, after so many months (and years) of playing the fool for somebody else, I was now going to be Master on Saturday night.
VI.
I suffered for days waiting for Saturday night. Like a hunter stalking prey, I spent every night I wasn't working either driving by the boys hanging out or stopping a half block away and just sitting. Twice, I undid my jeans, took my cock and balls out and just beat off there behind the drivers wheel while watching my targets flit about talking to each other in small groups, talking to men in cars, and occasionally driving off with them, only to return minutes later. I half wanted to get caught by one of the boys. I wanted him to come up to my window while I was stroking my dick so I could throw a couple of bucks his way just to finish me off.
Like a lion culling the weakest in a herd by observing the manner of the herd before attacking. I saw "my boy" on Tuesday night. Dirty blond hair, slightly pimpled faced, skinny but kind of cute in a girly sort of way. Not a day older than 17 and he looked even younger. He was definitely a follower in this group. Seldom was aggressive enough to walk up to a car unsolicited and seemed, generally, a bit of an outcast even among this group of outcasts. I knew I could, if I desired, make him feel wanted.
VII.
It was Saturday night, 41 degrees, windy, and likely to get colder. I drove up to the herd at 7pm, a bit early for cruising, but I knew this was a good time to get the one I wanted in case he had another "date" before I showed up. I rolled down the window and one of the kids ran up, "Hey," the kid said, "What's up?"
I had practiced my response all week but unlike the weekend before, this time I was filled with a supreme confidence that I'd not had before at any time in my life. The fact that these guys were younger than me and really needed my money just to survive was enough to change my personality from gentleman to asshole. It didn't hurt either that I had had a couple of beers in me as well as a few "pick-me up" tabs I'd had lying around since going to a Rave over eight months ago. I was filled with attitude.
"What's his name?" I asked briskly, pointing to "my" pimply kid.
"Well why doesn't he tell you himself," the little prick said, insulted, and walked away pointing to pimply kid to let him know I was asking for him.
My pimply boy looked confused. He hesitated, stood up and came sheepishly over to my open window. Before he said anything I asked, again bruskly, "What's your name?"
"They call me Billy B," he said.
"What do you call you?" I asked quickly back to him.
"I guess, Billy B., too", he said, a little confused.
"Hop in for second," I told him.
He looked around, didn't know what to do, so did as he was told.
"Let me look at you for a bit," I said to him in a condescending tone that I myself had heard from past boyfriends but never used myself, ever. He was very girly like, fine features, blemished skin and hair that needed to be washed.I liked him. He had enough faults to make me feel perfect.
"Billy, why don't you stay at my place tonight. Looks like it's going to be really, really cold. I'm just a mile from here and I'll bring you back in the morning. Hey, I'll even buy you dinner." I could tell that he really wanted to come with me. The thought of a warm place to stay and dinner was written with delight on his expressive face. But he just kind of sat there and said nothing, except for his smile
"I'll give you $35 bucks to just stay with me overnight, but $135 for it to be a date, " I said. His smile turned down into a pouty frown. I realized that he thought I was do- gooder college kid helping out a street-kid. Because of my young age, it had never occurred to him when he got in the car that I was a customer. I could see he was crushed as he realized I was just another John. I though he might cry.
I said rather harshly, "Come on, $135 for a date, including kissing and everything else." He was unhappy and truly undecided until I remembered something that Arnie had told me to say, so I added, "No kink, no pain either, I'm not like that." That seemed to answer his unspoken question.
"Hold on a second," he ran back to the herd and grabbed his backpack. And spoke a few words to them. It was clear he had not done this type of overnight "date" before and his fellow sheep were trying to blast him with as much last-minute advice as possible. I beeped the horn a bit and Billy B. came running. But before he got in, he said, "My friends are taking down your license plate number to make sure I'm back by tomorrow."
"That's fine. You'll be back," I said with annoyance and we drove off.
VIII.
It's hard to describe my exact reaction to Billy B.
I am generally a really nice guy with a lot of compassion, but as soon as I met him, I had an emptiness of feeling for Billy. With the hustler from the week before, it was like we were on the same wavelength. I gave him money, he gave me a blowjob and all was well. No condescension, no attitude. I actually kind of like the guy.
But Billy oozed attitude, not cocky attitude, but victim attitude. Yeah, I kind of picked him cause he seemed to be the most pitiable of the group but that was because deep down I was nervous about this whole escapade so I probably just wanted someone I could be in charge of, at least in the beginning.
But now that I had met the little runt, my desire to start off in control became a reality. I was going to be in control whether I liked it or not because this wimp was clearly self- esteem deprived. I was now the Master and Billy turned out to be a naturally pathetic specimen to rule over.
How I managed to figure out Billy in just two or three minutes I don't know, but it reminded me of something from high school a couple years back. A boy by the name of Jimmy Lamondela was always picked on because he was basically a loser. But most folks wouldn't have minded so much except that he was an annoying loser. You saw him and heard him, and you wanted to punch him in the face. When he scurried down the hall, all the guys would go out of their way to bump him into lockers or pretend to punch him in the gut and he'd curl up and fall down. It was weird. It was as though he had scent around him that gave off a smell that intoxicated with anger all those around him.
That is how I felt about Billy. I could sense and smell his lack of self-worth. I knew he'd be annoying and would have a sob story to match.
IX.
On the drive to my apartment, I said to Billy, "Just so you don't worry, I'm not gonna kill you or stab you or anything. Okay? I'm just looking for someone to stay over tonight. So, its not going to be any kind of sex you haven't already done before, right?"
"Yeah, I know," was all Billy could manage to say in reply as he looked to his feet and then outside and then to his feet again.
"How old are you anyway? Just so I don't get myself in trouble," I asked.
"I turned seventeen a few months ago," he said.
"Well, you look younger so I wanted to get you on the record in case you turn me in the cops, eh?" I said. I thought he might take the opportunity to say something witty in reply. He said nothing.
When we got to my apartment I showed him around and I could tell he had a bit of jealousy in his eyes. He saw in this college apartment a future that he thought should have been his. The poster, the computer, the big bed probably reminded him of home, too.
I said to him, "Why don't you take a shower and I'll put these clothes you're wearing in the washer in the basement. Actually, why don't I do all the clothes in your knapsack if you want." I took a few steps toward the knapsack but Billy quickly grabbed it.
"That would be really kind of you to do. I'll get my clothes out myself," Billy said. He pulled out two t-shirts, a pair of jeans, a pair of socks, and some underwear out of the sack. I could see that was all the clothing he had and they were filthy. I could also see that he was protective of the bag because it looked like he had some family photos, some letters and an address book in there as well.
He was in the shower when I came back to the room. I opened the bathroom door and, thinking of Jimmy Lamondela, I whipped opened the shower curtain with a jerk. And just like Lamondela, I thought Billy would have a heart attack. He turned quickly sideways to hide his dick from me and was clearly embarrassed.
I couldn't believe it, a fucking prostitute hiding his package from a client. What kind of freak did I pick up anyway? What a weirdo.
"Sorry dude, didn't mean to startle you," I lied. "Just thought I'd ask to see if you wanted a beer."
"Yes, please. That would be fine," Billy answered.
I grabbed to cold ones and came and sat on the toilet in the bathroom. Billy hadn't the nerve to pull the shower curtain back so he was just standing there with his back to me and finished rinsing his hair. When he was done, he turned off the water and I said, "Hey Billy, turn around and let me see you." I had a swagger in me now, and possessed with a confidence to tell little Billy exactly what I wanted rather than just keeping such things to unspoken and to myself.
He turned around and what struck me was how "almost" average he was. He was of average build, but skinnier. Of average height, but a little taller. Hair of average length, but a tad longer. He had very little body hair and his limp dick was average, but just a bit longer. His cock definitely would have potential when it got hard. But all-in-all a rather average seventeen year old boy. But what wasn't average was his pretty face. With the right hairstyle he could have passed for a cute young girl, especially if it were not for the blemishes on his face that marked him as an adolescent teen.
I said to Billy, "You have a pretty face. Maybe we can pick up some stuff at the pharmacy for your face?" It was the beginning of a pattern that I myself heard so many times from psychologically abusive boyfriends. Bring him up a peg, bring him down a peg.
I gave Billy some of my clothes to wear to dinner. The Tommy Hilfiger jeans and rugby shirt looked a bit big on him, like a kid playing grownup, but the size of the clothes brought out the delicacies of his face in a rather attractive way. So as much as Billy disinterested me as a person, I was still drawn to him physically.
Instead of to the sports bar where I usually go, we went to an Applebee's that was always loud and crowded and where the service was normally okay. We got a booth and I ordered a beer, Billy got a Coke. Using a trick I had learned in high school, I had a large flask of rum with me that I used generously to add "interest" to Billy's drink.
After some silence, I asked Billy, "So what's your story? All of you kids have stories, right?"
"I guess so, but its not very interesting," Billy responded.
"Well it's interesting enough for you to be on the streets by yourself at the age of seventeen, right?" I pushed back.
Billy, with the help of the rum and Coke, went on to tell me his story. He was from Wheeling, West Virginia originally but his dad was in the military so they moved around a bit until his parents got divorced when he was five years old. His dad got a transfer to Germany he'd requested and Billy never saw him again - but did get some letters here and there. Billy's mom re-married an older man who was ex-military and who now ran a small security firm in rural Pennsylvania.
When Billy was thirteen he attended an all boys summer camp and, like at school, he was more often than not the one everyone picked on. One of the camp's teen counselors took a shine to him and acted as his protector. At night when all the other counselors would go to the adjoining girls camp next door to sneak into the cabins, this one counselor would have Billy meet him in the basement of the main lodge where he'd have sex with Billy. Billy said that it made him nervous to do it at first, but he didn't dislike it either. After a while, Billy looked forward to the nights with the counselor and this lasted for three summers in a row. Billy even had the opportunity to visit the counselor near Philadelphia a few times during the school year, too.
At this point during Billy's story, I had took my sneaker off and put my foot between his legs and pressed down firmly, "I just wanted to see if you got hard when you told this story.and you aren't". It was such an obnoxious thing to do but I had a buzz and I think I wanted to shock him a bit.
With my foot still resting on his crotch, Billy finished his story saying that after his step- dad found some old love letters between the counselor and Billy that Billy was thrown out of the house. Billy had gone to Philly where the counselor was now in college and found out the guy had a boyfriend and didn't want Billy around and told him he should just go on home. Instead, Billy went to NYC (which he thought was too scary) and then up to New Haven where he'd been for about five weeks now.
Apparently, there were a bunch of other street kids, too, that would pay a local gay guy with a big old house in the neighborhood ten bucks a night to sleep on the floor of his basement. The kids couldn't come in before midnight and had to be gone before six AM. It was worth it for them to stay in a warm place and was safer than staying at a crowded shelter. The guy who owned the home made a couple of hundred bucks each week renting this way during the winter. The rest of the time during the day, Billy was on the street trying to make the ten bucks and more for the room, cigarettes, beer and maybe a bus ticket somewhere else.
"Well that sucks," I said to him and finished my burger and drank my beer. Had he told the story in a more interesting manner, I might have cut him some slack but he bored me with what could have been a cool story. Plus, as suspected, he kind of played the victim of circumstances, which annoyed me further. "Let's go," I said.
X.
Back at the apartment, I finished up Billy's laundry while we both had a few more beers. I turned the heat way up so I could lounge in my boxers comfortably with nothing else on and I told Billy to the same. I put one of my favorite movies "White Squall" in the VCR and asked Billy to join me on the bed. With the sound down low and the flicker of the TV the only light in the room, Billy sat next to me and he was acting a bit too comfortable for my liking.
I said, "I'm gonna call you Billie Jean for now on, cause you remind me a sweet little girl, Okay?"
"Sure, whatever," said Billy.
I rolled over on my stomach and said to him, "Billy Jean, I'd like you to give me a backrub."
Billy bent over and started rubbing my shoulders and back. "Why don't you straddle me," I said. "It'll be more comfortable."
Billy lifted his leg and straddled my butt and sat down on my ass as he started to rub me down.
I asked, "What did your friend the counselor do with you the first time you guys had sex at camp? And give me the details. I want to know what happened"
Billy seemed a bit intimidated by the request and hesitated a bit before he began his story, "It was my second week at camp at about 8:30 at night and everyone was in their cabins. Jakob, the counselor who was about sixteen at the time, came by and said he needed help putting the chairs away in the lodge and would I help him. I said fine, because it wasn't that strange for counselors to get some of the campers to do the work that they were supposed to do themselves. When we got to the lodge, all the chairs had already been put away and Jakob was leading me down the stairs to the basement so I just followed. When we got in the basement it was almost pitch black except for some light from the moon coming in some half windows. My eyes adjusted slowly to the light and Jakob walked towards me and said, 'Billy, you're a good little kid so I'll show you some of our counselor secrets that we only teach to the campers we like'. I said that would be great, not understanding what was about to happen. "He said, 'The first thing I'm going to teach you is a French kiss', and Jakob leaned over me put his mouth on my mouth and stuck his tongue threw my lips. I was startled backwards but he held me so tight it hurt. I realized I couldn't breath so I stopped struggling and he eased his grip on me.
"After a while I wasn't afraid anymore and his tongue just kept swirling around in my mouth and I could hardly contain all the feelings I was feeling. Jakob reached down in front of my shorts and started rubbing my dick and Jakob said, 'When you get into high school, this is what happens at the parties'. I didn't know if he meant between boys and boys or boys and girls, but part of me wanted it to be all about boys.
"Then Jakob said, 'Lie down here.' So I laid down on the concrete and he took off my pants. 'This is what a blow job is Billy. You'll need to know this if you want to go through initiation'. I had know idea what he was talking but it felt great when his lips went around my dick and kept sucking and moving his head and lips up and down over my little dick. After a while, I had an orgasm but not much came out. What did come out, Jakob let leak out of his mouth and onto my stomach.
Jakob asked,"'Did that feel good, Billy?' I told him it did and Jakob then turned me onto my front. He took a big wad of spit and put it between my butt cheeks. Jakob stood up and took his pants down, kneeled behind me and spit again between my cheeks. He started to slide his dick (which seemed huge to me) up and down the length of my ass, but not inside. He was content just to get off humping in between my ass cheeks. In a short time, he came on my back and it was really wet and really warm. He told me not to wipe it off and to just put my shirt on over it. He said he wanted me to where that shirt tomorrow and not to shower in the morning. I did as he asked and that was the first time I was with a boy." Billy fell silent.
I turned around onto my back and reached for the front of Billy's boxers to see if he was hard and he was. "Do you like thinking about Jakob like that Billy Jean? It feels like you do."
"Yeah, he said. I like thinking about that a lot," he said.
"Why don't you try to kiss me like he kissed you that first time," I said.
Billy leaned over, closed his eyes and started kissing me with his mouth open and tongue exploring. I pushed him back and said, "Keep your eyes open. I want you looking at me."
He softly spoke an apology and again kissed me deeply. I could tell by the look in his eyes that it had been a long time since he'd kissed so intimately and that it was a welcomed break from the succession of alleyway BJs he was giving out to middle-aged and closeted queers each night for the past few months.
We kissed for about fifteen minutes and he was really into it. He tongued my ears and my neck and couldn't get enough of kissing my eyelids and licking his tongue across my lips in big wet swaths. After a while, I broke off the kisses and forced him gently down my front where he stopped to suckle my nipple and forcefully tongue my belly button.
"Blow me like Jakob did to you the first time," I said to him.
Billy took down my boxers and started sucking me off vigorously. He was good at it and it seemed to please him to do it. It was great to see the pale white skin of my smooth stomach contrast so sharply with the rough, bumpy redness of Billy's cheeks.
"Put your finger in my ass," I said to him and he stopped sucking, licked with heavy spit two of his fingers and started to suck again while beginning to probe my ass with first one, and then two, fingers. It felt great and I just let the whole experience envelop me. I started to cum so I clasp my hands on either side of Billy's face and started thrusting his head into my crotch even harder and faster. I could feel the coarse texture of his adolescent face in my hands as I pumped and spewed gobs of sperm in his mouth. I said nothing as I came but Billy made a lot of noise as he slurped and coughed in a desperate attempt to keep up with my load even as he was still fingering me in the ass.
"Wow," I said. "Billie Jean, that was the best blow job I ever had. Fuck, that was good."
Billy withdrew his fingers from his ass and was still wiping his mouth and face when a big smile came over his face. He'd been perturbed that he handled my cumming in his mouth with so little grace, but was genuinely pleased at that compliment I offered up.
"Hey, come on over here and lie down on your tummy," I said as I positioned some pillows on the bed. "Yeah, lie across here and raise your butt up a bit so I can see how sweet you really are."
He did as he was told, took down his boxers and he was soon lying face down on a stack of pillows with his ass and legs angled perfectly for access. I said, "That first night, Jakob didn't enter you, but this is an even a more special night for us, Billy Jean, so I'm gonna make love to you like you deserve."
I reached to the bed stand table and pulled out a condom, ripped open the package and placed in down around my cock that had lost none of its stiffness after the blowjob. "You've got a sweet ass, Billy Jean," I said as I worked in some lube with my index finger.
"Damn," I said, "Do you know what I wish I had? I wish I had some panty hose stockings that you could wear. You know, the sheer ones that go all the way up over the thigh. Man, you'd look nice in those."
Instead, I went to my dresser drawer and pulled out the longest tube socks I could find. I took his feet in my hands and one by one stretched the bright white socks up to his knees. The whiteness of the socks framed his upward pointed ass like a museum piece and I could tell that the soft cotton of the socks felt good on his hard blistered feet which were still rather dirty despite his earlier shower.
I mounted Billy from behind, he on the bed facing away from me and I standing on the floor with my cock pushing against his hole that soon gave way to the pressure. I push in and out, slowly with not a word between us. For such a young kid, I was surprised how easily his anus gave liberty to my dick.
"Hey sweetie," I said to Billy, "Do you let all the old fucks you meet on the street do you up the ass?"
"No," he said at a whisper.
"Well, it sure seems like it back here. You're pretty loose for seventeen," I said.
I took my dick out of his ass and went into the bathroom. "Stay there", I said to Billy as I open the bathroom closet to find a little extra spice for my boy, Billy.
I came back into the room with a novelty toy called "Dick on Rope" which was a big fat cock shaped bar of soap with a rope attached. It was a little smaller than when I had first got because I used it a couple times myself in the shower, but it was still a good eight inches in length and over two inches in width. I watered it down and soaped it up in the kitchen and walked towards Billy.
"This should be just fine for you. Feel how slippery it is?", I said as I passed it across his bare back, leaving a soapy trail. Billy said nothing.
I went behind Billy and with great ease, slipped the enormous piece of soap right into his ass. I pushed it in about seven inches and pulled it back and pushed it back in again. Back and forth I pushed and pulled as it made a soapy wet mess of Billy's entire rear. Billy said nothing at all but moaned loudly in apparent pleasure during my concentrated push and pull of the dildo.
I looked to the mirror on my closet door and saw a truly beautiful sight. It was me in total command of an interaction with another person. A white socked pretty boy, with ass aloft, getting fucked manually by me with an eight-inch dildo.
I was so into watching myself perform that I hated to break the moment; but since he, too, was enjoying himself so much, I thought this was the best time to bring him down a peg.
I left the soap cock in his ass for a moment, went to my wallet on the dresser and counted out the $135 I'd promised Billy. I put it down on the bed stand table near his face and said, "I didn't want you to think that I'd forgot why your doing this, you know." And I returned to his ass again and resumed with the push and pull as his Billy's face turned a bright pink with embarrassment. Again he was reminded who he was, what he was, and who I made him be.
After a time, I pushed the faux prick up and into Billy as far as it would go, Billy recoiled a bit in pain but settled soon with another moan. I moved the pillows from underneath him and I joined him in a sixty-nine position on the bed.
With the dildo all the way inside Billy, I started to suck him off even as I reached around his butt to keep the soap pressed firmly in his ass. From his position, Billy started to lick my balls with a feverish urgency that felt really great. He licked my balls so well, in fact, that I was almost ready to cum again. I didn't want to climax in this position, so I stopped sucking Billy off and he let out an audible cry of displeasure, as it was clear that he wanted and needed to get-off very soon.
I turned Billy onto his back, straddled his chest and looked down into his eyes. I leaned forward and started licking his face slowly. Every inch of his face was soon wet with my saliva. I paid special attention to his bumpy red cheeks and pimply chin where I licked with all the caring and love I could offer. I knew that his pimples made him feel ugly, and so I soothed those sores that caused him so much pain with my tongue and lips.
Billy trembled and sobbed lightly, "My God, nobody's ever done that to me."
I put my fingers to his lips and said, "Shh."
Sitting on his chest, with the big fake dick still in Billy's ass, I started masturbating near his face, my cock just an inch from his lips. He opened his mouth to take my load but I said, "Keep your mouth closed, okay?"
He nodded just as I started to cum. Not in spurts this time, but in slow gobs of spew. I aimed my dick hole to first one side of his face and then down toward the other side. Streams of silvery jizz slid down the skin on both sides of his fine-featured face.
Once again, I looked into his eyes, leaned down and began to lick his face. This time, licking my own coppery tasting cum off the leather-like skin of this pretty boy.
Without a word, I got up and turned the TV off and the room went totally dark. I climbed in bed with Billy and pulled off the ridiculous looking socks I made him wear. Then, gently, I removed the massive, soapy cock from his asshole.
I rolled Billy over half way onto his side so he was facing away from me and I behind him on my side as well. I pulled his legs up so that he was now in a fetal position. I pushed in closely beside him and touched the tip of my naked cock to his butt hole and it slid up into his soapy lathered ass with no resistance.
There, front to back, my dick in his ass, little Billie Jean and I slept the night.
XI.
I woke up about 7 am. I was on one side of the bed and Billy on the other. I could tell he was awake and thinking. I nudged him a bit and actually called him "Billy".
"Hey, Billy. Sorry, about this bud, but I've got to get to the library this morning and get some schoolwork done. So we gotta go."
I think he was stunned out of his pensive moment made only deeper when surrounded by a warm room and when lying atop a soft, clean bed.
He seemed like an abused boy just awoken from a wonderful dream now realizing that his dream world had ended and the horror of a vicious father awaited down the hall.
Billy looked down and said, "Oh, yeah. I gotta go, too."
He went to get his backpack and clothes. "Hey Billy, take those Tommy jeans and stuff I gave you last night with you. I don't wear them any more."
I put on some sweats and grabbed my keys as a sign we'd best get going. I really didn't have any schoolwork to do but I didn't want Billy's wandering mind to start thinking that the moments shared between were anything but for my pleasure and mine alone.
Billy was half way out the door when I took a hold of his arm and pointed to the money on the table beside the bed. I could tell that there was a part of him that wanted to leave the money there on the table as some sort of protest, against me, against what he had become, against how unfair life had treated him.
But that wasn't who Billy was. He'd never taken a stand in his life and he wasn't going to start now. Little did he know that if he had taken the money and thrown it in my face in defiance, I would have grabbed him and kissed him and never let him go back to the streets - he could have stayed with me forever.
But, instead, Billy scurried over to the table and stuffed his pants pockets with money.
XII.
I stopped the car near the tracks and already there were two kids cloistered together near an alley. Billy opened the car door and looked back toward me before getting out.
Billy said to me, "Take care of yourself."
"Don't worry, I will," I said back.
He got out, shut the door and he ran to join his crew in the alley as they huddled close to fend off the biting, cold wind of October.
"Jeez," I said aloud to myself, "He didn't even ask my name."
XII.
It's been just a couple of weeks since this all went down and I am still as conflicted and guilty and angry and annoyed as I was that October morning.
For what reason did I hate Billy so much? Because I saw too much of myself in him.
Why did I love him so much? Because I saw too much of myself in him.
Why must I never see him again?
Same reason. Same terrible reason.
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