This is the third installment in the continuing adventures of the men of Genoa City, Wisconsin. All original characters are owned by CPT Holdings and this story in no way reflects upon the sexuality of the actors portraying these roles. You must be of legal age to read this story. The author retains copyright to this material.
Nicholas Newman literally jumped out of his skin as his secretary's voice seemed to boom from the telephone intercom.
"Mr. Newman, there's a gentleman calling who refused to give his name but insists that you are expecting his call."
Nervously clearing his throat, Nick responded, "I'll take the call, Connie. Thank you."
His quivering hand reached out to depress the speaker button and then froze in midair. Dare he accept this call? Nicholas knew that once contact was made he would become the recipient of a vicious blackail plot. If he refused to accept the call, the extortionist would be stymied. But, if he incensed the anger of the unknown person, what might be the possible retaliation? Nick realized exposure was the price he would be forced to pay.
It had all started earlier that morning when he'd arrived at his luxurious office in the Newman building. Thoughts of the fantastic lovemaking he and his wife had shared only hours before were pleasantly replaying in his mind as he jubilantly greeted his secretary and breezed into the office. Throwing himself into the big leather chair behind his ultra modern glass desk, Nick leaned back with arms tucked behind his head, swiveling around to face the expanse of windows looking out at busy Genoa City. Life had never been better! He had a beautiful adoring wife, two wonderful children, an executive position in a major corporation and a new-found understanding with his sometimes tyrannical father. In fact, Victor Newman had seemingly given up his mission of forcing his son to vacate the coffee house Nicholas jointly owned with his wife.
A satisfied smile spreading across his handsome face, Nicholas turned back to his desk and the work at hand. The large manilla envelope propped against the computer monitor caught his eye almost immediately. His smile turned into a perplexed frown as Nick took hold of the plain brown wrapper bearing the poorly scrawled words "NIK NEWMAN, NEWMAN ENTRPRIZES" on its exterior. From the sloppy hand writing and the blatant misspellings, Nick deduced that the address had been penned by a child, although even Cassie, his young daughter, knew how to spell his first name. Sliding his thumb under the seal, Nicholas had an eerie sense of foreboding as he tore open the envelope and reached inside.
Two documents were contained inside the package: one, a short letter; the other, a seven by eleven inch glossy photograph. Sweat broke out on the young man's brow as he observed the captured image of himself sandwiched between his father and Bradley Carlton in the heated gyrations of homosexual intercourse. Glaring at the printed letter he read:
"WILL CALL U AT 11 AT YER OFFIS. DONT KEEP ME WAITIN"
His first reaction was to dart across the hallway to his father's executive office and present him with the disturbing photograph. But Victor had left early this morning for a business trip to New Mexico, accompanied by his beautiful wife and daughter. Bradley Carlton, the other man in the incriminating picture, was of no help either. The handsome corporate stud was on a leave of absence attending to personal business in Paris, France. Feeling terribly alone, Nick continued to stare at the two pages wondering how he came to be in this predicament. Remembering how he'd videotaped a similar encounter between his father and Brad, and then used the evidence to achieve his own goals, Nicholas wondered if this was the ultimate punishment for his deception.
"Mr. Newman," Connie's professional voice broke through his reverie. "That man is still holding. Shall I take a message?"
"No, Connie," he quickly replied. "I'm taking the call right now." Taking a deep breath, Nick lifted the receiver.
"Newman!" came a muffled voice. "Is that you?"
"Y-yes." Nick stammered nevously.
There was an evil chuckle from the other end of the line. "I see ya got my picture. If ya like that one, I got lots and lots more."
"What do you want?" Nick demanded between clenched teeth.
The male voice laughed again, more loudly this time. "Well now, we can meet and discuss it. Eight tonight. Sharp. City Line Motel. Room 34. Be there or these pics hit the supermarket rags tomorrow." And then the line went dead!
Young Nick sat for a few moments with the phone still clenched in his hand, weighing his available options. The voice of the man sounded vaguely familiar, but had obviously been disguised to maintain anonymity. There had been no mention of money---yet----which was somewhat of a relief If he chose to keep the appointed rendezvous, Nick prefered not to be carrying a great deal of cash. The City Line Motel was on the outskirts of Genoa City in a run-down section of town which residents of social standing never visited. But tonight Nicholas Newman, son of business tycoon Victor Newman, would take a walk on the wild side and breathe the same air as the town's n'er-do-wells. He had no choice but to learn the price of the blackmailer's silence---and to discover the identity of the sneaky photographer.
It seemed as if the day would never come to an end. Nicholas attempted to concentrate on the business at hand, but his mind always drifted back to the knowledge that someone was privy to his incestuous encounter, thus threatening the very existence of the Newman empire. There was no one to whom he could turn, although his father and Carlton had every right to know of the predicament. But what could they do from thousands of miles away? Nick had to face the blackmailer on his own and attempt to appease him.
Arriving home late that afternoon, Nick was grateful to discover that Sharon had taken the children to visit her mother in town. Allowing himself a quick shower, Nick changed into a pair of loose-fitting denim jeans, pull-over cardigan and sneakers in an attempt to appear as inconspicuous in shacktown as possible. Removing his jewelry and clearing his wallet of all but the essentials, Nick hiked over to the main house on the Newman estate and borrowed one of the older pick-up trucks for his journey. To travel into that poor section of town with his expensive red convertible would be suicide.
The City Line Motel was a one-story badly neglected strip of overnight accomodations with rooms in the front and back. A dim light from the filthy windows of the office and the neon sign flashing V C NT was the only indication that the premises was still functional. A lone car was parked in front of one of the rooms. Peering at the badly faded numbers on the peeling paint of the doors, Nick searched for number thirty-four. The room turned out to be in the back of the building, out of sight of the roadway. Parking the truck, Nick nervously looked around him before gingerly exiting his vehicle. The lighting in this area was almost non-existent and would make the location perfect for a mugging. The lack of illumination from room 34, and the absence of any other vehicle in the back lot, caused Nick to reconsider the wisdom of his actions. But, in the final analysis, he had summoned the courage to come this far and must see the situation through.
Rapping his knuckles on the old warped door, having convinced himself he was the bait in a fool's game, Nick was startled to hear a deep voice command, "Come in." Forcing back his nervousness, Nick turned the rusted knob and entered the darkened room.
"Close the door behind ya," came the voice from the depths of near-blackness.
"How about you turn on a light," Nick challenged.
"Always the snobby rich kid," the other man whistled. "I call the shots here, Newman. Are you forgettin' what I'm holdin' over you and daddy dearest? Now close the fuckin' door!"
Nick slammed the door shut behind him, but remained standing close so as to make a hasty exit. The dimmest of light came through a part in the curtains drawn over the front windows, which did nothing to break the opressive blackness in the room.
"Okay, I'm here," Nick said pointedly. "Now tell me how much it's going to cost and let's get this thing over with."
The voice cackled in humor. "You rich folks think everything's measured in green, doncha? This time yer wrong, rich boy. Its not money I want. What yer gonna gimme is somethin' I been wantin' for a lonnnnnnnnngg lonnnnnnggg time."
Realization dawned upon Nick and sent a chill down his young spine. That sarcastic voice, stretching his pointed words mockingly, referring to him as rich boy.....it could only be one person!
"WART MAN!" he shouted.
The other man broke into a fit of hissing laughter. "Bingo, Nicklas! It's your old cell buddy, Larry. Looks like we're gonna be room-mates again." And with that the blackmailer flicked a switch on the table lamp next to him, throwing a dull glow across the dingy moldy room.
Nicholas blinked his eyes rapidly to adjust to the sudden light and focused on the man seated in an old upholstered chair directly across from him at the other side of the room. Nude from the waist down, Larry Warton lounged with one naked leg over the armrest of the chair, the other stretched out in front of him. His long uncircumcised tube nestled in the drooping hairy nutsac between his spread thighs. A worn Metallica arena-show T-shirt covered the expanse of his chest and a red bandana was tied in place over long, thinning, greasy hair. His beady eyes bore into young Nick as he took a pull on the Budweiser forty-ouncer he held in the greasy paw of one hand, the intoxicating liquid leaving a dew on his thin excuse of a mustache and drooling down into the billy-goat tuft of hair on his chin.
"You son-of-a-bitch, Warton! How did you get those pictures?" Nick wanted to know.
Warton grinned evily and eyed his opponent. "Been followin' you for some time, rich boy. Knew one day I'd catch you bein' not so squeaky clean. Jus' never dreamed I'd find ya takin' care of daddy's big Newman cock with that tight rich boy ass of yers."
Fists tightened at his sides, Nick asked once more, "What do you want, Warton?"
The ex-convict raised an eyebrow and stroked the long hairs of his semi-beard. "You think ole Larry wants some of that Newman green, doncha? Wrong again, rich boy. Things ain't changed at all since we was in lock up together. I want now what I wanted then: a piece of that hot ass of yers."
Nicholas' mouth went dry. Larry Warton had been his sworn enemy from the day they met in prison. Eventually, Nick had been exonerated of murder charges and Warton was paroled, but the two men's paths had crossed on several occasions since. The memory of Warton's physical abuse was still strong in Nicholas' mind as he gazed disgustedly across the room at the other man.
"How much do you want?" Nick asked again, more forcibly this time.
"Told ya," Larry smirked, "only one thing's gonna save you and daddy and that other pretty boy. You do what I want and them pictures and negatives are all yers. But ya gotta do everything I want. Everything!"
Nick's eyes squinted in anger. "How do I know you'd give me the negatives?"
Warton motioned with one big, dirty hand towards the bed where, for the first time, Nick saw a manila envelope similar to the one resting on his desk that morning.
"As a show of good faith," he taunted, "there's half the booty. The rest will come when you deliver."
Keeping one suspicious eye on his enemy, Nick moved over to the bed and lifted the envelope from the stained, moth-eaten blanket. Unfastening the clasp, he removed a series of twelve glossy photographs highlighting his erotic night of gay induction. Several strips of negatives were attached to the top picture by a paper clip.
"It's not like I'm askin' you to do somethin' which you ain't already done," Larry continued, taking the last swig of his beer before letting the bottle drop to the filthy carpeting. "Looks to me like you was holdin' out on me in prison."
"Where's the rest of them?" Nick asked, ignoring the evil man's last comment.
"In a real safe place," Warton answered, his hand moving down to squeeze his big limp dick, pulling the loose foreskin back to expose the shiny hidden knob. "With a note that if anything happens to me, they go straight to my lawyer- man."
"MICHAEL CRAWFORD!" Nick exclaimed. The unscrupulous attorney was hell-bent as it was on destroying the Newman family. The exposure of these photographs would be Crawford's final nail in their coffin. Suddenly, Nick realized he had no choice but to pay the revolting blackmailer with his body.
"You swear you'll give me al the pictures and never breathe a word of this?" Nick asked, his masculine voice nervously shaking.
"As long as you do everything I say, rich boy. And I do mean EVERYTHING!" Warton retorted, certain now that he had captured his prey.
Crossing his arms at his waist, Nicholas grasped the cardigan's hem and pulled it off over his head, exposing his young athletic torso. Fumbling with his jeans, he managed to unfasten the zipper and slid the denim down his thighs, kicking them off onto the floor. Stepping out of his expensive sneakers, Nick stood before the glaring ex-convict in his boxer shorts and bleached-white mid-calf socks, a frown on his angry handsome face.
"Let's get it over with," he said.
But the other man only chuckled. "Not so fast, Nicky. We're playin' this my way. Now get over here on your knees in front of me."
With no alternative, Nick advanced on the semi-nude man and dropped to his knees between Warton's spread thighs. The grease-stained hand of the other man stretched the foreskin back and forth over the peeping crown of his impressive penis only inches from young Nicholas' face.
"Gotta take a piss," Warton hissed. "All that beer's gone right through me. Open yer mouth, rich boy. And donchya lose one drop."
Swallowing back his revulsion, Nick leaned forward to take the head of Warton's prick between his fleshy lips. In a matter of seconds a strong, warm stream of urine burst from the wide piss-slit and doused Nicholas' tonsils. The tangy nectar of recycled beer filled the cavern of the younger man's mouth and threatened to spill from his clenched lips.
"SWALLOW IT!" Warton ordered. "SWALLOW MY HOT PISS, RICH BOY!"
His eyes tightly shut in humiliation, Nick swallowed mouthful after mouthful of pungent yellow piss as Warton continued to unload his bloated bladder in the boy's orifice. Nick drank every drop, surprised that the taste was not at all unpleasant. What surprised him further was the realization that his prick had expanded to its full ten inches and was poking out of the front of his boxers!
Drained, Warton reached down, the dirty fingernails of his hand clutching at Nick's soft thick hair and holding his head in place.
"Now stick yer tongue in that foreskin, boy," he commanded. "Haven't cleaned up in a few days. Been holdin' a snack there for ya."
Nick told hold of the slowly-expanding beefstick with one hand and snaked his tongue around inside the thick skin surrounding the fat cockhead. His probing muscle found the precious head cheese hidden there and he lapped at it greedily. The funk of the smegma assaulted his taste buds as Nick swallowed the other man's crumbly goop and searched for more hidden presents inside the folded skin. Chewing on the yielding flesh of the abundant foreskin, Nick looked up into the cold eyes of his extortionist. He was well aware of the fact that in the space of a few minutes his bitter enemy had him addicted to convict cock.
Pumping on the length of meat in his hand, Nicholas sucked the bulbous head into his mouth and proceeded to give it a fierce, wet tongue-bath. Lapping around the sensitive glans, he centered on the fleshy piss-sit and dipped the tip of his tongue into the open hole; then managed to work one white tooth into the piss chute, causing Larry to fall back onto the chair with a muffled groan. Young Nick stuffed several inches of the widening pecker into his face, his nose closer and closer to the sweaty expanse of dark pubic hair. Larry thrust upwards, fucking the lad's sucking mouth, forcing more of his manmeat down the rich boy's velvet throat. Soon Nick was taking all nine inches and lusting for more!
Abruptly, Larry pushed Nick away and rose from his chair, turning his back on the kneeling younger man. One foot planted firmly on the floor, the other high up on the armrest of the chair, Worton bent at the waist and reached around to spread the tight cheeks of his ass, exposing his dirty hole.
"Took a shit before you got here," he announced. "Ran outa ass-wipe-paper. Now CLEAN ME UP!"
Nick stalled at first, the puckered asshole mere inches from his face. The pungent aroma from Warton's exposed anus assailed his nostrils and filled him with a sense of disgust yet, at the same time, ignited a newfound raunch. Leaning in closer, Nick flicked out his tender young tongue and poked at the browned asterisk throbbing between Warton's hairy butt cheeks. He lapped at the moist streak of shit stains surrounding the manhole, cleaning the other man thoroughly. Nearly gagging, but unable to stop himself, Nick expertly reamed out the hairy crack, his nose buried in the cleft of the smelly hole as he worked up and down the hot crevice. Licking the shit ring clean, young Nicholas buried his tongue up the ripe shitty hole and proceeded to eat out Warton's squirming asshole. Excavating the hot hole as deeply as he dared, Nick planted his thick lips on the man and sucked from the slick channel while his tongue tasted Larry's manly insides. Warton ground his ass back on Newman's face, urging the boy on. Nick continued dining on the delectable asshole long after his tongue had numbed from exertion.
Reaching between Warton's parted thighs, he took hold of the throbbing penis and pumped it with his fist while nibbling on the remnants of shit in Larry's sweaty ass-hairs before diving back into the tasty ass ring. His other eager hand squeezed amd pulled at the dangling sac of cum-filled balls bouncing freely between the ex-convict's legs. Pushing the nutsac to one side, Nick pulled Larry's big cock back between his legs and proceeded to lick him with long tongue swipes from asshole to cock-head.
Larry groaned with pleasure. "Yeah, rich boy! Git down in there and eat ole Larry out before he fucks yer stuck-up hole! Gonna fuck ya fiercer than yer own daddy did!"
Not entirely sure of the force driving him, but joyfully aware of his increasing lust, Nicholas pulled the loose foreskin along the veiny nine inch slab of cock. chewing now on the sweaty ball-orbs begging for his masculine attention. Sucking one egg-sized nut into the moist cavern of his mouth, Nick swirled the ball around in its sac while his tongue lapped at the dripping dew of mansweat forming on Warton's hairy nutcase. Both hands clasped the length of Larrys' rod and simultaneously worked him over, and under, handed. Warton's body bucked against young Nick. He had never expected the Newman heir to be as willing a participant as he'd turned out to be. Too bad, he thought, that Nick hadn't been as accomodating in lock-up a few years back. It might have made their stay worthwhile.
Warton shifted again, returning to slump down low in the cheap hotel chair, hairy legs thrust out in front of him, big uncut dick massively erect and pointing at the water-stained ceiling.
"Get it wet, Newman," he coaxed. "Get it nice and wet so Larry can fuck yer high-class little ass. That's right! Wrap yer smartass tongue around that head. Ooooohh yeahhhh, slurp down that thick pre-cum, baby. Push back that foreskin and suck on my big cock head. Come on boy, suck me like ya suck yer daddy!"
Nick inhaled most of Larry's fat prick and looked up into the evil, beady eyes of the convict as he slowly came off the hot salami. Larry was obviously enoying the fact that a young, handsome, educated and wealthy man was worshipping his blue-collar, working-class body; and Nick found himself swept up in the raunch of servicing trash far beneath his social standing. He completely swallowed the length of beef-stick this time, pressing his face firmly into the unwashed mass of thick pubic hair and sniffing deeply of the other man's groin. Larry ground his hips upward, screwing young Nick's inviting throat. Backing off the impressive missile, Nicholas held it firmly in one hand while he worked his tongue along and across the expanse of thick man meat. Larry's ass thrashed about in the chair as pre-cum oozed out of his thick piss slit and slowly slid down the length of his meat, only to be lapped up by Nick's swirling tongue.
Grasping the starving sex-puppy by his thick hair, Warton pulled Nick off his hardened rod and ordered, "Sit on it, rich boy!"
Bridled by wanton lust, young Nick rose from the floor and, turning his back on the other man, straddled Warton's outstretched legs. Grasping the base of his fuck stick, Larry pointed the leaking hose at Nick's smooth asshole as the young man squatted downward. The cum-smeared head of the fat tool rubbed at Newman's yielding ass lips, leaving a thick trail of juicy semen to ease the way. Lowering himself onto the filthy convict's cock, Nick gritted his even white teeth as the fat rubbery knob slipped through his sphincter muscle and invaded his hungry rectum. Inch upon inch of mandick was swallowed by the gaping fuckhole as Nicholas slowly embedded himself on the lage uncut prick.
Warton reached out grimy hands to cup the other man's tight buttocks, holding him firmly in place, and then thrust his hips upward, shoving even more cock into the rich snob's fuck chute. He pumped his meat into the quivering ass, savoring every moment he possessed the Newman brat's atheltic body, as Nick energetically ground his hips in an exotic dance to accept each of Larry's deliberate thrusts. Warton's calloused hands roughly kneaded smooth, hard buttcheeks while he feverishly plowed the inviting hole.
Crazed by a maddening desire for cock, Nicholas allowed the entirety of his weight to drop onto Larry's lap. The coarse bristle of white-trash pubic hairs scraped his smooth pink patrician ass mounds while a full nine inches of uncircumcised dick planted itself firmly in his guts. Nick gyrated in a frenzied lap dance, allowing the hot beefstick to probe the deepest recesses of his fuck chamber. As the fat cock head tapped his love trigger, Nick fell back against the other man's body and moaned sexily. Through the thin cloth of Larry's faded rock 'n roll T-shirt, Nicholas felt the twin eraser point of hardened nipples against his back.
"Ummmmmmmmmmm," Warton groaned, slowly pumping his man meat into Nick's stretched cavern. "Yer a real high-class cock slut, aren't ya?"
"Fuck you, Warton!" he shot back as his longue lashed out provocatively to moisten his thick, sensuous lips. Larry merely chuckled at the cock pig's retort. Sliding big dirty hands up the smoothness of the lad's chest, he grasped the fleshy mounds of Nicholas' erect nipples and pinched them harshly between grease-stained nails. The abuse to his sensitive nubs sent spasms through young Nick's throbbing penis, a river of youthful pre-cum oozing down his long shaft and forming a sticky pool on his heaving toso. Locking thin, cruel lips on the exposed nape of the rich boy's thick, soap-scented neck, Warton sucked hungrily, determined to leave a nasty purple welt which would be impossible to explain away.
Nicholas grasped his hardness with both young hands and pumped the leaking prick furiously while his ass muscles clenched at the convict cock boring into him. Intoxicated by the perverse pleasures his sworn enemy inflicted upon his Ivy League body, the boy guiltily came to the conclusion that slumming was preferable to all the vanilla sex he'd had within his own social class. Suddenly the perfectly chiseled body of Bradley Carlton, or the hardness of his own father's flesh, interested him no longer. A basic working-class social degenerate prison parolee was teaching him how to be handled like a man, and he was loving every moment of it.
"Git over on the bed," Larry growled sexily into his ear, and Nicholas obediently lifted himself from the impaling cock, thigh muscles burning from the heavy squat routine he'd been doing over the convict's lap. Falling back onto the filthy, sweat-stained bed coverings, Nick obediently parted his runner's thighs, grasping himself under the knees and leaving his sweet, hot ass wide open for Warton's assault.
Warton smiled lopsidedly as he looked down at the rich boy balled up on the worn mattress. He'd had a lot of ass in prison, but the one who had eluded him now seemed the most eager to take a mean, hard and sloppy fuck. It was an inexplicable turn-on to slide his welfare-class meat into the warm body of the son of billionaire Victor Newman, and the fact that Nicholas had been converted into a willing participant made his revenge even sweeter.
Ripping the shirt from his chest, Larry lowered his nude body between the outstretched thighs of young Nicholas. Planting his hands on either side of the bed next to the handsome boy's head, Larry rotated his hips, cock searching for the entrance to the awaiting love hole. Nicholas reached down to take the foreskinned monster in hand and guide it to his puckered asslips. With a quick, unexpected thrust, Larry slammed half of his length into the boy, carefully observng the look of unbridled ecstasy which overtook the lad's Nordic features. The thick shaft stretched Nick's bunghole as the big plunger drove deeper and deeper into his grasping ass chute until the entire nine hooded inches was buried to the hilt. Warton pulled back until the fat mushroom head was encased in his thick foreskin directly at the boy's tight ass ring, and then he drove it in again.
"Fuck yeah, Warton," the rich boy crooned. "Plow my ass with that big convict dick! Fuck me till I cum, you slimy bastard!" His hands traveled up Larry's torso and rested on the twins peaks of muscular development on his upper chest. A daily regimin of push-ups while in prison had given Larry a strong, proud chest. Nick teased the hard protruding nipples, arousing Warton into taking faster strokes as he shagged the Newman boy.
Nick's asshole literally screamed for more cock, and Warton obliged by increasing the tempo of his thrusts until he was slamming into the boy with a vicious force. Larry's hairy nuts slapped against him at each collision as the hot prick pistoned in and out of Nicholas' velvety-smooth hole. Observing a trickle of perspiration running down the ex-con's side from his hairy armpit, Nick instinctively shot his head up and under the moist pit. Inhaling deeply of the obnoxious animal odor, Nicholas rubbed his face in the wet skanky hairs, sucking at the putrid underarm and driving himself further into class degradation.
Oozing pre-cum had made Nicholas' fuck tube wet and slippery. making Larry's forceful thrusts slide his big cock easily in and out of the college boy's hole. The hot, slick shaft thrust in until balls met ass, pulled out until just the tip of cock was at the yawning mouth. and plunged back in. Again and again Warton shot his pelvis forward to pound wriggling ass as his climax continued to build.
Young Nicholas felt his smooth nutsac tighten and fisted his ten inch cock with renewed frenzy while Warton continued to plow his butt. The roar in his ears grew louder until Nick could stand no more and bullets of hot, slimy white cum shot up and out from the head of his convulsing prick to coat his sex-slickened chest. Larry coated two dirty fingers with Nick's warm cum and shoved them into the boy's mouth, forcing him to eat his own cum. Nicholas sucked at the filthy fingers as though they were tiny dicks, his baby blue eyes looking up at Warton sexily and driving the man wild with pent-up lust.
"AH DAMN!" The convict shouted, his eyes squeezed tighly shut, voice coming from deep in his throat. "HERE IT CUMS! GONNA BLAST OUT YER ASS!"
With only the fat cockhead pumping at the tight ring of the boy's shit hole, Larry spilled his cream in Nicholas' warm rectum. The hot jizz sprayed in one huge load after another as Warton kept his erupting mushroom head inside Newman while he pumped his length with a sweaty hand. After what seemed like minutes of orgasm, Larry squeezed the remainder of man cum from his weapon and popped his still-hard dick from the fuckhole.
Nicholas attempted to lower his cramped legs, but Larry held them back in place and lowered his face to the boy's abused hole. Nick watched wide-eyed as Warton fastened his lips on the moist asshole and snaked his long tongue past the worn sphincter to suck his cum from the boy. Satisfied that he had cleaned out the hot fuck hole, Larry came off of Nicholas' ass and slid his sweaty body on top of the rich kid, planting his cum-smeared lips firmly on the mouth of Newman. Forcing the younger man's lips open, Larry released the stored up cum he had sucked from Nicholas' ass into his mouth and forced young Nick to eat it. Nick swallowed all of the tangy jizz as his tongue battled with Warton's, hands all over each other's exhausted bodies as they writhed together in the aftermath of energetic other-side-of-the-tracks sex.
As they lay together, Warton slipped a big hand under the pillow and produced another envelope containing the remaining incriminating photographs and negatives. Nick smiled and ran his hands up and behind the other man, pulling him close. Now that Larry Warton no longer held his head on the chopping block, they could really have some fun, Nicholas thought as he locked lips with the ex-con and seductively ground his pelvis into the other man. whose hard slab of meat attested to the fact that Larry was up and ready for more action. Besides, Nick realized, the minimum wage worker had paid for overnight lodgings...so they might as well make full use of the time.
Eyeing the man's big stained, dirty hand, Nick looked up at him innocently and inquiried, "Ever fuck a guy with that big calloused hand, Wart-man?"
The glimmer of a twinkle reflected in Warton's steely dark eyes as he traced his hand down the wealthy whore's torso and reached into the moist spot between the lad's sweaty thighs. As Larry began to expertly probe his slick asshole, Nick wondered for a fleeting moment if Bradley Carlton was having as much fun in romantic Paris. . .
At that very moment in another country miles away from Genoa Cty, handsome Bradley Carlton was sipping a glass of expensive wine at a sidewalk cafe in a quaint section of the city while perusing a daily newspaper from home. As much as he adored France, Brad couldn't wait to return to the States and his newfound life there as the sex slave of tycoon Victor Newman. Sure, he'd enjoyed a few rendezvous with attractive mademoiselles during his stay, not to mention an occasional cute bellhop who continually shouted "Oui, Oui, monsieur!" as Brad fucked his tight little ass, but no one could compete with the sexual energy of Victor Newman. Little did Brad know that, before the night was over, he would have an unexpected chance encounter with a familiar face from home which would make his Paris visit memorable . . .