Every society is marked by an adolescent stage. A growing-up period. A time when each young boy feels he is more daring and modern than the adults ruling the establishment the young person rebels against. Nowhere is this phenomenon more apparent than in an open society like ours.
Sandy's story is that of a young boy growing up in his own special way. Breaking the moral code he has been taught. Flaunting his body in open rebellion. Reveling in any wanton new experience. Indeed, Sandy makes a world of his own, where hedonism becomes the standard. But the truth is Sandy is searching for meaning in his life, for love and affection, not just the pleasures of the flesh.
STREET HUSTLER-the story of a young boy's struggle to find himself, and the experiences that carry him over the threshold into young adulthood and eventual happiness. A timely story for our restless society.
-The Publisher
CHAPTER ONE
The sounds that jarred Sandy out of his dreams and thrust him into the noisy bustle of downtown San Francisco were the simultaneous slamming of a door down the hallway and the bellowing of a truck horn in the street three stories below. Grumbling, squinting, he shielded his eyes against the surprise attacks of late-afternoon sunshine that bolted under the wind-flapped shade and invaded the dusk of his hotel room. The wind was hot again today. He felt trickles of sweat crawl on his skin. But Sandy didn't mind the heat at all. He liked it. It suited his blood.
The bedsprings creaked as he stretched. He pointed his toes, contracted his thighs and his
asscheeks. He rippled his fingers down over his abdominal ridges-hard, defined, perfectly lean. He could almost understand how queers could get off on his body. He was a perfect specimen-all man, even if he was still a teenager, a runaway kid.
The shade flapped up and a warm tongue of wind and sunshine lapped up across his swollen balls. He could feel his big balls shift in their tight-stretched sac. His cock felt as big and as hard as a baseball bat. He squeezed his cock, watching his purple prickhead swell to the size of a delicious apple, watching the piss-slit open up like a screaming little mouth. He imagined fire shooting out of his slit-mouth. He imagined his cock as a dragon. He stroked his cock up and down a few times, sighing with the tingles that streamed through its core and shot all the way down to his toes. He was tempted to beat off. Jacking off upon waking up had been a daily ritual with him since he'd been about nine years old, and he realized now that the hardest part of hustling was going to be saving his cum for the queers. Damn, he wanted to jack off, wanted to squirt quarts of cum all over his tanned belly.
Groaning, he unpeeled his fingers from around his cock and rubbed his hands up and down the sides of his balls. He brought his hands up to his nose and sniffed. The smell was like that of a jockstrap that hadn't been washed in weeks. He sniffed his armpits, disgusted by the smell but finding it perversely appealing. He needed a shower. Hadn't had one since he'd left Santa Barbara three days ago. And his young body had been through a lot of sweaty action since then. He'd had more queers panting over him and pawing him and sucking on all parts of him than he could remember. If he could just get that blasted shower to himself, he'd wash up. But the chances of that weren't very good. This was a queer hotel, and the queers were fucking around in the showers twenty-four hours a day it seemed, sucking each other's cock, beating off, screwing ass, and doing a hundred other queer things.
He struggled up off the bed and stretched in a standing position, arching his back and clasping his hands behind his head. His cock was so hard and hot that he imagined his prick jutting up to the level of his chin. He picked up his rumpled bluejeans from the floor and leaned over as he stepped into them. They fit him like skin, hugged his tight ass like cellophane. He dreaded the day when they would disintegrate on his ass, but that day wasn't far off. He'd worn these beloved jeans so long that some parts of them had become almost transparent, like the crotch, which had to contain his sausage-like, eight-inch cock.
He crammed his blood-engorged prick into his jeans, then carefully forced up the zipper and snapped them shut. He ran his fingers through his shoulder-length hair, then shook his head so it would fall into place. He picked the sleep from the corners of his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he unlocked his door, stepped out into the hallway, and turned back to lock his door behind him. He didn't want to come back to find some bare-assed, spread-legged queer waiting for him on his bed-not unless that queer had a bundle of money, which the queers who lived in this hotel didn't, or they wouldn't be living here.
He padded down the hallway, floorboards groaning under his bare feet, trying not to look into the open rooms that he passed. He didn't want some queer to think that his accidental glance was an invitation to fuck. He knew what he'd see if he were to look. In the few days he'd been here he'd already learned what scene he could expect in each open-doored room on his floor.
There was the young kid in 305 who lay there all day on his mattress, his skinny body naked, his legs spread, his ass up in the air. He appeared delirious most of the time, delirious from getting fucked by anybody he could lure into his room. Sandy had seen the kid being fucked savagely by a huge black man while five other guys were lined up waiting their turns. The kid's asshole was so reamed out that Sandy had seen his ass gaping like a big mouth, cum leaking out. On that occasion the boy had seen Sandy and had wiggled his ass at him. "Come on, honey," the wobbly-eyed kid had said. "Plug that big dong of yours in me. I can tell it's a big one, and I'm dying to be fucked." Sandy had fled.
Then there were the two lovers in 312 who fucked and sucked for hours with their door wide open. You could hear their grunts and gasps halfway down the hall. But, as involved as they were with each other, they still always managed to notice who was going by their room. This time was no exception.
"Billy! Billy! There goes that darling chicken from down the hall. Did you get a look at that bulge? He's hung like a donkey."
"Come back here, little boy," Billy yelled. "Want some candy?"
"I don't think he'd settle for candy, darling. I think he's after the green stuff."
"Baby, I'd give all the green stuff I owned -if I owned any-for a mouthful of his meat." Billy made a sucking sound with his lips.
Sandy jogged on his toes the rest of the way to the John. They were disgusting, every last one of them. And yet his cock always throbbed harder than ever from listening to them and from catching glimpses of their antics.
The bare ceiling light bulb that lit this end of the hallway had burned out. Sandy had to press up close to the door to read the sign on the door before pushing his way in. He had visions of fumbling around in the near-darkness of the hallway and of barging into somebody's room. God only knew what he would have found.
The john hissed with the sounds of showers,
and Sandy cursed under his breath and headed for the urinals to relieve his throbbing bladder. He wondered if he'd ever be able to take a shower again-or even take a piss, for christsake.
A tall naked guy stood in front of one of the two urinals, his right arm moving rhythmically. The guy had black hair to his shoulders and a dark tan over his entire body, ass included. Sandy stepped to the urinal next to him and tried to ignore him as he unsnapped and unzipped to piss. He tried to turn away from the guy, but the guy could see over his shoulder. Sandy stood there swearing to himself, his stiff prick throbbing in the air, his bladder bursting. It was almost impossible to piss with a hard-on, especially when some bare-assed, meat-beating queer was staring over his shoulder.
The tall queer cupped Sandy's ass with a huge hand. "Need some help there, big man?" The hand squeezed.
Sandy squirmed away from him. "Hands off!"
"Hey, man, cool it," the tall guy said. "It's just that you got such a pretty little ass I couldn't help myself."
Still straining to piss, his stiff pecker almost kissing the slimy porcelain of the urinal, Sandy glanced at the guy. About twenty-five, handsome, smooth skin, muscular, and-good Jesus!-a cock bigger and more veiny than any cock Sandy had ever seen. He felt his mouth drop open at the same moment that he felt the hot piss stream upward out of his cock. The tall guy was watching Sandy piss, was flicking his tongue over his full purple lips.
"Hey, baby," the guy said. "Oh, man, you're wasting such a beautiful load." The guy sounded like he was going to cry. He dropped to his knees, beating his gigantic cock and almost shoving his face in the urinal with Sandy's cock. Spit dripped from his tongue-flicked lips. He was panting. "Oh, God, baby, piss on me! Squirt down my throat!"
Without even thinking about it, Sandy turned on him. His yellow piss splatted all over the guy's face, dripped from his chin, rolled down his tanned chest. The guy's mouth gaped and Sandy shoved his cock into it, squirting his piss down the guy's throat. The guy swallowed greedily, groaning, gurgling, his eyes rolling back as if in ecstasy. Sandy was so fascinated by the sight that he didn't realize that the guy was shooting off against his jeans until the guy's hot cum was trickling between his toes.
Sandy jumped back, the last of his piss hitting the guy in the chest, the last of the guy's cum splatting onto the floor in thick white gobs. "Damn you! These are my only pair of pants."
"Sorry," the guy gasped. "Oh, shit, I'm sorry, man." He fell forward onto his hands and knees and wrapped his arms around Sandy's legs. He sucked up mouthfuls of Sandy's jeans and sucked the cum out of the
material.
Sandy watched in fascinated disbelief.
The guy suddenly fell on his belly on the green-and-white linoleum floor and licked the cum off Sandy's insteps and from between his toes. "Mmm, mmm, you got the sexiest toes, man. So fucking dirty. You must be a bare-footer, man. Mmm!"
Sandy danced backward before the guy bit his toes off.
The guy gazed up at him, his six-foot body sprawled out on the floor. The guy squirmed in his own spilled cum and in Sandy's piss. "Oh, man, I'm your slave, man. Let me suck that big cock of yours, master. Oh, Jesus, let me suck that big cock."
Sandy leaped over him. He had to get away. He pulled open the door of one of the toilet stalls so he could get some toilet paper to blow his nose with. Some guy was sitting on the toilet beating his cock. The guy's mouth was stuffed with a big cock that was sticking through a hole in the stall partition. He glanced up at Sandy, letting go of his cock and letting it throb in the air.
"Want a taste, chicky?" he asked, his lips still drooling around the cock jutting through the hole in the wall. "Or you want a taste of this one?" He offered the cock he'd been sucking to Sandy. Then his gaze fell on Sandy's cock and his eyes bugged out. "Oh, chicky, let me eat your meat!"
Sandy slammed shut the stall door and tried
to stuff his cock back in his jeans. The tall, totally tanned guy was slithering toward him on the floor like an alligator.
"Shit on me, master. Piss on me. Shove your dirty toes down my throat. Oh, you cute baby, I lick the floor you walk on." The guy licked the floor, moaning as if he were fucking a hot ass.
Sandy leaped over him again and headed for the shower cubicles. Steam billowed out of the cavelike shower room, and Sandy smelled soap. He inhaled the steam, longing to dive into the hissing room and to stand under a hot shower for an hour. He stepped into the small toweling-off area and pushed his head around the corner into the shower room.
Two guys who looked like high school seniors or college freshmen looked back at him from under one of the showers. One guy was leaned forward, his hands braced on his knees, his ass turned up and churning. The other guy was standing behind him, grinding his cock in and out of the first guy's asshole. The fucked guy's cock was up and glued to his belly.
"Look at the pretty boy," said the guy who was being fucked. "Come on in, beautiful."
"Hey, yeah," said the guy behind him, never missing a stroke. "Timmy can fuck you while I fuck Timmy."
"A sandwich," Timmy said, rolling his eyes. "And I'll be the filling."
Sandy got out of there, nearly slipping onto his ass.
"Hey, if you just wanna suck my cock, that's all right too," came Timmy's voice after him.
Sandy eyed the wash basins lined up in front of a cracked wall mirror. Not as good as a shower, but better than nothing at all. The tall guy's hot tongue suddenly lapped across Sandy's left foot. It was hopeless. Sandy clawed the guy's face with his toenails, then fled the room. As the door swung shut behind him, he heard the tall guy moaning.
"Oh, beautiful! Oh, far out!"
In his own room, Sandy grabbed his skateboard. He adjusted his throbbing pecker in his jeans.
Gotta get outa here, he kept thinking. Gotta get out.
As he stepped out into the sunshine a few minutes later, a church bell somewhere chimed four o'clock. His day was just beginning.
CHAPTER TWO
It was only his third day in this town, and yet he felt as if he'd never lived anywhere else. It was as if his years of life in Santa Barbara had never happened. Funny, but when he closed his eyes he could hardly imagine his dad's face anymore. And all he could remember of that new bitch stepmother of his was her shrill voice telling him that now that she was living in this house things were going to be different. He'd put up with the bitch for a month. No more. Never again.
Bare toes gripping the edges of his turquoise skateboard, he slalomed down a sidewalk that was nearly vertical. He'd never been on hills like this. He squatted, arms out to the sides for
balance. If he crashed he would hit nothing but concrete. He imagined himself tumbling down the hill, disappearing in the distance like a runaway basketball. He cut the board sharply from side to side, keeping his speed down as much as he could. At the bottom of the hill he danced off his board and snatched it up. He was on lower Polk Street now, nearing the area in which he'd be doing his business. Hugging the skateboard under his left arm, he padded up the sidewalk. The concrete was hot under his bare feet. The sun reflected off the sidewalk and the buildings and made him sweat. He felt trickles of sweat dribbling from his armpits.
The sidewalks were crawling with people- people getting out of work, kids from the high school up at the other end of the street, tourists, cruising queers, and a few hustlers. In just a few days he'd gotten to know a lot of the hustlers on sight. They leaned up against store fronts on the sunny side of the street, spaced at intervals along a three-block stretch. A few of them stood together talking. Right now there were probably a dozen of them out-the early birds. By seven this evening there was no telling how many there'd be. They'd be lined up like pigeons on a building ledge, not only up and down this street, but along some of the side streets as well, all the way up to Union Square.
A pimply faced kid in a black leather jacket nodded to Sandy, and Sandy nodded back.
The kid was sweating like a pig.
"Stay cool," Sandy said, and kept moving. He thought he heard the hustler mutter something but he didn't turn around. He hadn't meant to offend the kid.
Sandy passed a restaurant with the scent of tacos pouring out of it. His stomach contracted and his mouth watered. He reached into his pocket and fingered the bills he'd brought along, then increased his pace. He'd get some fruit or something at the food market a few blocks up. Shirtless and shoeless, he had no hope of being served in a restaurant.
A couple of short-haired queers in their twenties were coming toward him, looking him up and down. As he passed between them, he heard them both breathing like obscene-phone-callers. He smiled inwardly and paused to look in the storefront window. He saw only his own reflection-his sun-bleached yellow hair caressed by the wind and tickling his wide shoulders, his brown eyes, his finely chiseled jawline and nose, his perfectly straight posture. His muscles were small, but cleanly squared and deeply tanned. His sweat-misted skin shined like polished copper. A glimmer of golden down glinted on his upper lip. For just a moment he completely forgot where he was.
A hand fell on his shoulder. It was one of the queers. "Wanna have some fun, beautiful?" The queer was smiling coolly, but his hand trembled.
Sandy twisted out from under the queer's heavy hand. He tossed his head, flicking the hair out of his eyes. "Depends."
"A threesome, with us," the queer said. He nodded toward the other queer, who looked as if he might keel over from excitement.
Sandy could feel the second queer's eyes all over his body like fumbling fingers. Lay off! he wanted to scream. He felt as if he were being undressed and enjoyed for free.
"Seventy-five," Sandy said. "And no more than an hour."
The first queer's cool smile was pulled all out of shape suddenly. "We don't pay for it, little boy."
"Then you don't get it," Sandy said, and he spun away.
"Jesus Christ, seventy-five dollars!" he heard the first queer say. "Outrageous! The kid's out of his mind."
Sandy sauntered up the sidewalk, feeling good. He stopped in the corner market and bought a softball-sized orange, then sat on the sidewalk in front of the market eating it. Tiny sprays of sweet-smelling juice arced in the sunny air as he peeled the orange and as he tore the succulent meat apart and bit into it. Sticky juice fell on his belly and jeans, but he didn't care. He was already so grubby that a little orange juice added to everything else didn't matter. In fact, he was, beginning to enjoy the feeling of being unwashed. It made him feel even sexier.
A fat man in Bermuda shorts walked by
with a fat woman who looked like his wife. They were eating icecream cones. The word tourist wasn't stamped on their greasy foreheads, but it might as well have been. The woman glanced at Sandy.
"Look at that filthy little hippie," she whispered.
The man's eyes shifted toward him. "Bet that orange's been injected with LSD," he whispered to, his wife.
"Disgusting!" the woman said. "Oh, look, John! I think that's a homosexual across the street." And they crossed over to get a better look.
Sandy tossed the orange peels into a trash can, then continued up the street, licking his fingers. He spotted that blond hustler he'd talked to yesterday and the day before. The kid was about his own age and size, but he had slightly shorter hair, and he was dressed in white jeans, blue Adidas, and a super-tight red T-shirt. The kid leaned up against the same store as on the last two afternoons, his white jeans bulging obscenely at the groin. He smiled at everybody who walked past him and he waved at passing cars. Sandy was about to turn around and head back down the street- he didn't feel like talking to Alexis today-but the kid spotted him and waved. Muttering to himself, Sandy sauntered over to lean up against the building beside Alexis. Alexis was a nice kid, except that he was shamelessly queer, and his passes at Sandy made Sandy feel uneasy.
Alexis rubbed shoulders with Sandy, smiling with that toothpaste-commercial smile of his. "How was your night, stud?"
"Can't complain," Sandy said. "How was yours?"
"Not bad, except I had to be home by midnight. School this morning, you know."
"Oh yeah, you're still one of those schoolboys."
"Two more years after this one," Alexis said, almost sounding enthused. "School's right up the street."
"Convenient," Sandy said. "For your after-school job."
Alexis laughed, punching him in the shoulder.
"Hey, baby, how's your favorite chicken today?" A short-haired guy with a black mustache had approached from up the street and now was stroking Alexis' downy cheek. He leaned forward and they kissed each other. Then he glanced toward Sandy. "So this is the raving beauty you've been telling me about. My God, what a sexy little hunk of man!"
Sandy smiled, not knowing what to say. He felt the sudden urge to run. He looked away from the guy.
"Coming along?" the mustached guy asked Sandy.
"I haven't asked him yet," Alexis said quickly.
"Asked me what?" Sandy was getting
uneasier by the moment.
Alexis grabbed the guy's arm. "Would you mind if I talked to him alone for a minute, Tony?"
The guy nodded and walked a short distance up the sidewalk to look into a store window. He whistled to himself, glancing from time to time toward Sandy.
Sandy didn't like the vibrations. "What is this?" he asked Alexis.
Alexis spoke in a low voice. "Tony wants you to come along. He tips like you wouldn't believe."
"I suppose he wants a threesome in bed."
"No. Just you and me. Tony just likes to watch, just likes to watch and jack off. We make it, and he watches. If I know him, he'll give us each a hundred."
"Jesus Christ!" Sandy could hardly believe getting that much. For just a moment, he was tempted to go along. But only for a moment. "Nah, I don't think so!"
Alexis stopped smiling. "Why not?"
"I just don't think so."
"It's a hundred bucks. You'll have to turn three tricks to make that much, and there's no telling what kinky stuff you might run into. This is easy, man-just you and me."
That was exactly what Sandy didn't like about the arrangement. He just didn't want to make it with Alexis. "Nah, it's not for me."
"You can have my hundred too," Alexis said.
"You crazy?"
"That's two hundred bucks," Alexis said. He ran the tips of his fingers down Sandy's chest, looking like a teenager with spring fever and lovesickness combined. "Two hundred bucks for making it with me."
"No thanks," Sandy said. He dropped his skateboard, jumped on it, and pushed off like a ski racer. Within seconds he was a half block down the sidewalk, slaloming through the crowd.
* * *
Alexis had been right about never knowing what kink you might run into. Sandy had the feeling that this fat, middle-aged businessman was going to get even kinkier.
Sandy was standing on his skateboard in a doorway of the man's ritzy apartment near the Presidio. At his back was a large dining room, its long table set with china and crystal and silver. In front of him was the living room with its fireplaces and grand piano. For support Sandy grasped a doorway chinning bar above his head.
The fat man was stark naked, his stubby hard-on wagging below his balloon-like, jelly belly as he paced back and forth in the lush white carpeting. Sandy still had his pants up and zipped. The man didn't want to see his "organ," as the man called it. "You're disgracefully naked enough already," the man had said, turning up his nose while he pulled off his gray trousers and revealed the pantyhose underneath. Now the pantyhose had come off, and the man resembled a naked Santa Claus.
The guy got down on all fours and crawled back and forth across the room like a dog, sniffing the carpeting and the leg of the grand piano. The blubber on his ass and belly shivered. His erect cock was lost somewhere under his swaying belly, and Sandy imagined the huge abdomen to be a cow's udder swollen with gallons of milk. The man moved toward Sandy, tongue hanging out, panting, and he sniffed at Sandy's toes, which were curled around the edge of the skateboard.
Sandy had the sudden fear that the man might lift one of his legs and try to piss on him. "Hey, man, what is this? You gonna blow me or what?"
The man's red face turned up, jowls quivering. "Please keep your foul little mouth shut. I'm not paying you for any of that adolescent lip. Filthy little streetwalker! Who do you think you are?" He leaned his head down and started to chew on the big toe of Sandy's left foot. At the same time, he reached under his belly, found his stubby cock, and began to beat it. He made growling sounds like a dog.
Sandy was too stunned to respond. The man's hot mouth closed around his big toe, sucking hard, and Sandy felt thrills shoot up his leg and make the skin on his balls crawl.
His prick throbbed in his jeans, achingly confined.
"Filthy toes. Filthy little slut." The man continued to growl, sucking and biting on Sandy's toes. He gnawed on Sandy's toenails, licking underneath their edges with the tip of his tongue. "Dirty little barefoot hippie."
Sandy's toes wriggled. His cock was on fire. He felt as if his prick had swelled as big as an arm. Why didn't this fat fucker suck his cock and get it over with? First it was the tall guy in the John and now it was this toad, sucking on his toes as if they'd been dipped in honey. What the fuck was going on? Was this a conspiracy to drive him out of his mind? He'd always had sensitive feet, which was why he went barefooted all the time. Sometimes his toes felt almost as sexy and sensitive as his cock, like right now, with this fat queer sucking the dirt off them. Suck my cock! he wanted to scream. That toe-sucking is driving me crazy! Suck my cock before I shoot off in my pants!
The guy nuzzled down under his feet so he could lick the soles. Then he lapped up and down the tanned insteps, gnawing on the thick foot tendons, sucking on the veins. "Whore," he muttered. "Gutter tramp."
If Sandy hadn't felt so goddamned horny he would have slugged the guy. Enough was enough.
"Suck my goddamned cock, man! Eat my meat!" Sandy hung from the chinning bar, writhing, humping at the air. His cock shimmied against the denim of his jeans. "Jesus Christ, blow me!"
The fat guy looked up, face as red as an excited cockhead, spit leaking from his slack mouth, tongue hanging. "I-told you to be quiet, you smelly little boy. I'm not paying you to tell me what to do." He kneeled up suddenly, threw his arms around Sandy's ass, and wrapped his huge mouth around Sandy's cock-shaft.
The heat and wetness of the guy's mouth penetrated the thin denim immediately. Sandy's cock swelled, fingers of fire running all over and through his prick. Had the guy's mouth stayed wrapped around his cock for one more second, Sandy would have creamed his jeans with a quart of cum. But the guy was suddenly standing up and sucking on Sandy's left armpit. Then he was chewing on Sandy's nipples. He dove under Sandy's right arm and munched on the bristly sprig of blond armpit hair. Then he was sliding down again.
"Turn around, stinky little goat. Turn around." The guy twisted on Sandy's legs.
Sandy pulled on the chinning bar and swiveled his body around so he was facing into the dining room. Through the window across the room he could see the eucalyptus trees of the Presidio. He curled his toes around the edges of his skateboard and clung to the chinning bar above. The guy had reached around him and had unsnapped his jeans and
was unzipping them, The guy sank down, peeling Sandy's jeans off his ass. Sandy's cock sprang out, its piss-slit open and cradling a clear tear of sex-lube. The tear of fuck-lube stared at the ceiling like an eye. The guy drove his nose and lips between Sandy's asscheeks and started to munch and slurp.
"Mmm, shitty young ass! I bet you're a well-fucked little bitch. Mmm, hot shithole, mmmmm!" He growled again like a dog, gnawing at Sandy's asspucker, ramming his tongue in circles around the pulsating pucker edges.
Sandy gasped, his heart thudding against his breastbone like a rubber-headed sledge hammer. His ass wiggled in circles. A hundred thoughts and images swirled through his mind. He envisioned that kid in the hotel shower this afternoon, churning his cock-stuffed ass against the other kid's ass-smacking belly. He could hear the squishing of the one kid's cock in the other kid's asshole.
"Oh, Jesus!" Sandy moaned. "Oh, shit!"
The fat man's hot tongue screwed into Sandy's asshole. The man gripped Sandy's hips and jerked Sandy's ass back and forth against his face, fucking Sandy's asshole faster and faster with his sizzling tongue.
"Oh, man, oh, wowww!" Sandy had never felt anything like this. He'd never allowed anybody to push anything up his asshole before. He'd never even shoved his own finger more than an inch up his asshole before, because that was something queers liked to do. And he wasn't queer. Damn it, he wasn't queer. But this felt so good. Jesus, this felt so good. Just this one time wouldn't matter. It was an experiment, and it had happened so fast that he hadn't had a chance to resist it anyway. He gyrated his ass in tight circles. "Mann, oh, Jesus!"
He felt the guy's tongue slip out of his ass. He heard himself groan. He felt the guy crawling up his body. He was just about to look over his shoulder to see what the guy was up to when fire exploded in his scalp. The guy had him by the hair and was trying to snap his neck. Sandy's feet went up in the air; the skateboard went tumbling onto the uncarpeted floor of the dining room, and Sandy landed on his back in the thick carpet. His head thumped the floor and he saw flashes of light behind his eyeballs. A second later he found his shoulders pinned to the floor by the fat man's knees, found himself straining for breath under the crushing weight of the man's blubbery ass on his chest, found the man's bone-stiff prick burning his lips. The hot cock slipped into his mouth, kissed his tonsils. The hard rod of prick swelled, vibrated, flexed. Salty cum spurted down Sandy's throat. He gagged, choked, then swallowed.
The fat man groaned. "Ohhhhh, ohhhhh!" His cock jerked and squirmed in Sandy's mouth. Another round of thick cum squirted down Sandy's throat.
Sandy was helpless. He felt as if he were all head and mouth, as if his only function was to suck cock and to swallow cum. The man was using his head, using his mouth. It was as if Sandy's mouth were a jack-off toy, a hot hole in which to shove a cock and to squirt cum. Sandy swallowed reflexively, sucking down each round of the fat man's cum. His lips, his tongue, his cheeks-all responded to each swell and vibration and flex of the man's cock. It was fascinating, this man's cock shooting off in his mouth. And it all seemed to be happening in slow motion. Sandy could feel every twitch and flutter of the hot cock in his mouth. He closed his eyes, sucking and swallowing until the stubby cock softened.
The man climbed off him and crawled across the room for his clothes. Sandy lay there a few moments stunned. Some cum clung to his lips and he licked it off. Then he felt like vomiting. He rolled to a sitting position, his cock glued to his belly like a hot poker.
"You goddamned queer! I oughta kill you for that!"
The man snatched his suit jacket up off the floor and reached into a side pocket. He pulled out a small metallic object and held it at arm's length toward Sandy. "Don't make a move, you little tramp. This is mace, hot-shot. Come near me and I'll burn your eyes out."
Sandy backed away on his ass. In the dining room he slowly stood up and pulled his jeans back up. He forced his raging cock into his
pants and sucked in his breath so he could zip them up. He kept his eyes on the toad.
The man watched him, can of mace gripped in his right hand while he pulled on a huge pair of boxer shorts. The man's stubby erection had shriveled to a pink acorn. Boxer shorts on, the man picked up his suit jacket again and reached into the other pocket. He threw a small brown envelope at Sandy. It hit the floor in the dining room with a thud and the sound of rattling coins.
Sandy snatched it up. "Hey, man, what is this?" He tore the envelope open, his heart pounding with mounting anger. If this guy thought he could get off by throwing Sandy a handful of dimes and quarters, he was crazy. They'd agreed on fifty bucks, and Sandy had expected getting a blow job out of the deal, not giving one.
Sandy dumped the contents into his hand. A half-dozen quarters and a wad of ten-dollar bills. Sandy counted them. Four.
"Hey, man, I got ten more coming."
The man had pulled on his pants. His huge paunch drooped over the front of his belt. "That's forty-one dollars and fifty cents, slut. I never pay more than forty. The dollar-fifty is a tip. Now pick up your toy and get out of my home."
"You owe me ten, man."
The man held the mace cannister at arm's length. "I owe you nothing, you Godless homosexual." He picked up the telephone with his free hand. "Get out of my home now before I call the police. I have friends on the force, and they hate hippie boys and queers, of which you are both."
Sandy wanted to kill him. He picked up his skateboard. The crystal and china on the dining room table caught his eye. For just a moment he was almost overcome by the desire to pound the table with the flat of his board, smashing every goblet and plate in sight.
"Out!" the man said. "Now!" He punched a few buttons on the phone.
Sandy edged past him toward the front door. The man held the mace canister at arm's length, aimed at Sandy's head. The man turned slowly as Sandy passed him, following Sandy's every step as if he were a cameraman filming him. Sandy stood at the front door, hand on the brass knob, his back to the toad.
"Wait," the toad said. "No, don't turn around. I have a few words for you."
Sandy's hand trembled, sweating around the door knob. He imagined his hand ripping the knob out of the door and hurling it at the man's balloon-like head. He saw the man's head explode, saw gobs of yellow stuff like chicken fat suddenly glue to the walls.
"You might think that I have homosexual tendencies, but believe me, I do not," the man said. "I'm a happily married man with two wonderful children and a secure job in the financial district. I own this apartment and all you see in it. Two hours from now I shall sit at
the head of my dinner table in the loving company of my family, enjoying a wonderful meal and listening to the voices of my loved ones telling me about their day. My boy is your age, young man. A fine boy-athlete, scholar, musician. He is clean, groomed, and impeccably dressed. He wears shoes at all times. My wife is a handsome woman, a professional woman. She and I enjoy a perfectly harmonious sexual relationship. I have many friends in positions of power in this city. I am a powerful man myself. I brought you here simply to teach you a lesson, to show you what you are, to show you what you could be. Come up out of the gutter, young man. Pick yourself up by your bootstraps, as they say. Make something of yourself. Give up your Godless homosexuality."
Sandy was more stunned by the man's speech than by anything else that had happened in this rich apartment near the Presidio. He felt a tension building in his chest, and suddenly words burst out of him. "Now look, man-"
"Silence! Get out! Get out!"
"Man, you're outa your fucking head!"
"Operator, get me the police."
Sandy yanked open the door and bounded down the two flights of carpeted steps that led up to the man's apartment. He burst through the front door of the large Victorian mansion, took the porch steps three at a time, ran down the long front walkway, and leapt down three
more steps onto the public sidewalk. His heart banged. Escaped from an insane asylum, he thought. Free again.
CHAPTER THREE
He found himself bound and gagged and stark naked in a large flat somewhere south of Market Street. They had his pants, they had his skateboard, they had his money-the forty-one dollars and fifty cents he'd earned two hours ago from the loony toad in the rich apartment near the Presidio. Right now he wished he was back in the toad's apartment sucking the toad's four-inch boner. At least the toad was no more dangerous than a can of mace and some threats to call the cops. He didn't know what to expect from these guys. So far, all he knew for sure was that he couldn't trust them at all. He'd kind of liked the smiling, muscular, handsome young man who had picked him up a half-hour ago. He'd never dreamed that the guy would bring him here to be ambushed by a dozen other guys, had never dreamed that he'd be stripped, tied up, then gagged with a dirty jockstrap. Was this treally happening? Or was he dead and in hell? If he was alive, how long would he stay that way?
They had him bound in a seated position on a metal card-table chair, arms behind him and tied to the back of the chair, legs spread apart so wide that his inner thighs ached from the stretch. Wide bands of steel shackled his ankles, ankle bracelets attached to chains which were in turn bolted to the floor of the large livingroom. Sandy thought again of the comment Alexis had made about never knowing what kind of kinky stuff you might run into. Things seemed to be getting kinkier by the minute. Whoever owned or rented this flat had steel shackles bolted to his floor right through the red carpeting. What could be kinkier than that? Sandy wondered whether red carpeting had been chosen for the apartment because blood stains wouldn't show so much on red.
"Isn't he a doll?"
Three guys were standing in front of him with drinks in their hands. Like all the other guys in the apartment, they wore no clothes, and their cocks were in a state of excitement. Like all the other guys in the place, these three resembled each other-lean, muscular, short-haired, mustached, and in their twenties or thirties. The only differences among all these guys were in their heights, in the amounts of body-hair each displayed-some hairy-chested and hairy-bellied, others perfectly smooth- and in the sizes of the cocks. The smaller cocks were about six inches. The average cock-size was abut seven inches. And a few guys had bigger cocks. One guy looked like he had at least ten inches.
"Where did Roger ever find him?"
"Corner of Post Street and Polk. He was just sitting there on his skateboard looking seductive, Roger says."
"My God, he looks fit to be raped."
"Doesn't he, though? And look at that slab of meat."
"And those balls."
"And on such a little boy."
"All man, though. No doubt about that."
"Bet he'll hit the ceiling when he comes."
One of the three got down on his knees ; between Sandy's legs and kissed Sandy's balls with his liquor-sticky lips. Sandy's prick jumped, pointing straight at the ceiling. His prick had been hard as a rock even while they'd bound and gagged him. It was because of his hard cock that he felt only a vague fear now. He was too horny to care about much else than getting his cock satisfied. He squirmed in his chair, his loins humping spontaneously. He'd never been so horny in his life. His groin ached. His cock felt as if the
skin were splitting off it like a banana peel off a banana. His cock felt as big as a telephone pole. And so hot-hot as the sun.
The queer kissed his balls again, then sucked on them one at a time. The other two queers were leaned over his shoulder, watching. Sandy's cock felt as if it would take off like a rocket. He moaned into the dirty jock that had been stuffed into his mouth. His loins wouldn't stop humping.
"Horny little prick, isn't he?"
The queer got under Sandy's balls and started licking at Sandy's asspucker. Due to Sandy's leaned-back position on the chair, his asspucker was as exposed as his balls were. The queer got his tongue into Sandy's asshole. Sandy snapped his head from side to side, moaning loudly. His loins felt like they were going to explode. The queer's tongue wriggled inside him like a hot snake.
"Lowing like a young calf."
"John, John, look over here."
The other queers were coming over now to watch Sandy squirm. He felt like a zoo attraction, but he couldn't stop moaning and writhing. And strangely, the more queers who came over to watch him, the hotter he felt and the more wildly he thrashed.
"Isn't he an angel? I must remember to clip a few of his golden locks for my collection."
"And I want a little bit of everything-cock-hairs, armpit hairs, even a few of his toenails."
"You kinky boy, you!" Laughter.
"Hey, what's going on over here. Didn't I say to save him for later?" Roger's voice. "Jesus Christ!"
"But Roggy, how do you expect us to keep our hands off the hottest chicken stud to offer himself in weeks?"
"We're not through with the other one yet," Roger said.
"Jesus, Rog, he's burnt out and sucked out. His pretty blue eyes were just about shriveling up to rainsins, he's been sucked and fucked so much. This one is fresh, just bursting with cum."
"Yeah, Rog, that other chicken is gonna turn into a ghost if we don't give him a break."
"He wants more, though," Roger said. "He's begging for it."
"Sure, he's begging all right, Tuck me, fuck me, fuck me,' in his girlish little voice. Christ, the kid's been screwed so much he's in a fuck-trance. Give him a break, Rog."
"Give me a break, Roger. I want a little action too. That other kid is too damn young for me. At least this one's got a voice that's already changed."
"How can you tell with that jock stuffed in his mouth?"
"Ungag him, somebody. Let's hear what he has to say."
"You guys are hopeless," Roger said. "All right, let's have some fun with our little hippie skateboarder." Cheers.
Somebody untied the gag and yanked the wadded jock out of Sandy's mouth. A relieved groan escaped his throat. His jaw throbbed. He continued to hump at the air while the queer kneeling before him continued to lick out his asshole. He saw everything through a slight blur. He was delirious, his heart slamming in his chest, his blood pounding in his temples. He was all heat, all prickles, all an aching throb. It felt as if zillions of electrified drill bits were jabbing at the tips of his toes.
"Suck me," he mumbled, spit dribbling out of his slack mouth. "Suck my dick, oh, suck my dick, oh, suck ..." The words rolled out of his mouth beyond his control. He was only vaguely aware of what he was saying, only vaguely aware of what he was seeing and hearing around him.
"Jesus, he's possessed!"
"Just a horny boy. We were all like that before we became so fucking jaded."
"Jaded, nothing. Who in the hell is jaded? Not me, boy. Let me at that big beautiful teenage cock-mmmmm!''
"Me too."
"Oh, fuck, what a hot chicken!"
They were all over him then, like locusts on a succulent plant. Mouths wrapped around his cockshaft. Tongues lapped at his cockhead. Hot lips sucked on both his nipples. Mouths
closed over his lips, mouths reeking of brandy and wine, of whiskey and beer. They were smothering him, tasting him, devouring him. Dripping tongues drilled into his ears. Teeth chewed his earlobes. Every inch of his skin flashed hot and cold with goosebumps. They were bhind him, chewing on his asscheeks gnawing on his shoulders and neck. Tongues slithered up and down his asscrack. They sucked at his armpits, yanking out the hairs with their teeth. Stubbly cheeks sandppered his sensitive inner thighs. They chewed on his calves, sucked and gnawed on his toes. Fingers massaged his scalp, fingers crawled all over him. He screamed into open mouths, chewed at jawbones. The smell of male bodies made him dizzy, made him disgusted yet thrilled. He inhaled deeply, filling his lungs and his head with the sweaty, muscky scent of more than a dozen hard-cocked guys.
"Luscious nuts."
"Beautiful cock."
"Delicious boy."
Their mutterings filled the air like swarms of butterflies. It seemed as if there were hundreds of guys making love to him. He was so excited he wanted to jump out of his skin.
"Ohhh, suck my cock, suck it, suck it," he muttered. The trouble was that although there were a half-dozen mouths and tongues munching and licking at his cock at the same time, none of those mouths swallowed his cockhed. Nobody was really going down on him. They were all just licking and munching up and down the sides of his cock. All he needed was one hot mouth to wrap itself around his cock-head and he'd shoot, but he wasn't getting it. These guys seemed more intent on teasing him, on torturing him, than on bringing him off. "Suck it offfffff! Suck it offfffff!"
A hand grabbed his hair and twisted his head to the side. He found himself staring at a big cock and a pumping hand. Fuck-lube dribbled out the piss-slit of the cock and rolled down over the knuckles of the pumping hand.
"Sexy little god," the owner of the cock and hand said, "you've got me so horny I just can't hold off another second."
Sandy watched fascinated as the piss-slit of the guy's purple prickhead gaped and as a white rope of hot cum spurted out, gluing itself to his face like a sticky strand of hot spaghetti.
The guy pressed his cockhead to Sandy's lips and spurted again and again between them. "Eat it, you little whore. Come on, eat it." The guy pulled Sandy's hair and Sandy's clenched mouth opened. The guy's big spurting cock slipped in, and hot cum splashed against Sandy's tonsils. He could do nothing but to suck and swallow.
The guy's orgasm caused a commotion. The queers were all excited about the hot cum dripping off Sandy's chin. They licked and gobbled the spilled cum, sucking it off Sandy's chest, licking it off his nipples. Sandy was
aware of a guy licking the spurting guy's balls while Sandy sucked the spurting guy's cock.
"Beautiful," somebody said. "Look at that pretty chicken eat cock."
"Wonder if he can handle this one?" somebody else said, and this time it was the guy with the biggest cock in the room, the guy with the ten-incher. He pushed the other guy out of the way and held Sandy by the hair. His cock resembled a dripping cobra as he swung and beat his prick against Sandy's face. He rubbed his big cock in the first guy's cum, sliding the big prickhead up and down Sandy's cum-sticky cheek. Then he greased Sandy's lips with the cummy donghead. "Open up, pretty boy. Eat my pecker."
Sandy choked as the enormous cock stretched his jaw and stuffed his throat. Only half the prick would fit into Sandy's mouth. If the guy tried to force all his cock in, Sandy would surely choke to death, the guy's fist-sized prickhead throbbing in his stomach.
Spit bubbled out of Sandy's mouth and leaked down the guy's steel-hard cockshaft. Two queers, one on each side of the guy, licked Sandy's spit off the guy's prickshaft. Two other queers were sucking on the guy's balls, just as two other queers were down between Sandy's legs and sucking his own nuts. One of the ball-licking queers twisted a wet finger up Sandy's asshole, and Sandy's eyes almost popped out of his head.
Jesus Christ, what more were they going to do to him? He felt so horny, so frustrated, that he wished he could die.
Somebody bring me off, he tried to beg, though the words sounded as only a pained groan in his cock-stuffed throat. Somebody please bring me off! The finger up his asshole wriggled, poking and jabbing his throbbing prostate gland, and Sandy's toes clawed at the mouths sucking them.
The ten-inch cock began to fuck in and out of Sandy's mouth. Sandy's lips were stretched like a rubberband around the veiny cockshaft. He felt the ridged edges of the guy's prickhead on his tongue nad against the roof of his mouth. He could feel the guy's prick-arteries twitching against his upper lip. He was finding the fucking movement of the big cock in his mouth strangely stimulating. Maybe it was just because he was so horny that he was almost out of his mind, but he found himself liking the guy's cock in his mouth. He liked the feel, the salty taste, the smell.
I must be losing my mind, he thought, beginning to suck hungrily on the big meaty cock-because suddenly he realized that he wanted the big prick's cum. He wanted to feel the hot spurts against his tonsils, wanted to suck the big juicy prick until he'd drained every drop of sweet, thick cum.
"Mmm!" he moaned, bobbing his head, sucking, flapping his tongue at the sensitive underside of the sliding prickhead. "Mmm! Mmmmm!"
"Wow, look at that baby suck cock!"
"You ever see anyting so cute in your life? Look at those big brown eyes roll."
"The kid's in ecstasy. Jesus, what a cock-sucker!"
"Ohhh, Christ, he's good!" said the guy fucking Sandy's mouth. "Oh, baby, what a set of lips! What a fucking hot tongue!" The man humped, sliding his cock more easily in Sandy's mouth. "Oh, baby boy!" He was panting now, brunting, his cock fucked faster and faster. "Ooooh, ahhhh, baby, take my load!" His words became a drawn-out groan. His cock swelled, hardened, flexed, his heavy load flooded Sandy's throat. "Ahhhhhh!"
Sandy choked, gagged, gurgled. The man's spurts were hot, thick, profuse, almost more than Sandy could handle. He closed his eyes and swallowed as fast as he could, his tingling lips sucking all the while, the delicious alkaline taste and scent of the man's cum overwhelming his senses. He felt the hot cum leak down his throat, felt it form a warm pool in his stomach. He sucked rhythmically, teasing every last spurt and oozing drop out of the man's long, thick cock. As the man withdrew his softening cock from Sandy's mouth, Sandy's lips smacked together. Although still agonizingly horny, Sandy felt a momentary sense of satisfaction.
He was allowed no chance to dwell on his new feelings, however, because suddenly there were two guys blasting their hot cum against his face simultaneously. Hot cum spurted on his cheeks from both sides, and he groaned, "Don't waste it. Oh, Don't-" He cut his own words off by swallowing up the cock to his right. "Mmmmm!" The guys' sweet cum shot down his throat while the other guy continued to shoot off against his left cheek.
Then there were tongues on his face, lapping off the fresh cum. The queers went after fresh cum like cats after milk hot from the cow's udder. Sandy couldn't blame them now though; he was beginning to like the stuff himself.
Hands moved up and down his cock, hands lubricated by spit and fuck-lube. Two guys kneeled between his legs now, one guy working on Sandy's cock with two hands, the other guy massaging Sandy's balls with one hand and rubbing Sandy's prostate gland with the middle finger of the other hand. They were going to let him come now, were going to bring him off at last-he knew it.
Sandy chuckled with relief, writhing sensuously, licking his lips, putting on a show for the queers surrounding him. He was the absolute center of attention. He was a god they were all whorshipping. He tried to visualize himself-naked, bound, legs spread to a near full-split, head tossing, yellow hair swaying over the back of the metal chair, body gleaming with sweat and cum and spit, two guys kneeling in front of him and making love to his cock and balls and asshole, guys squatting
behind him and chewing on his asscheeks, another guy licking his back. Two guys leaned over him and sucked alternately on his nipples and his armpits. Two guys crouched at his feet, sucking and biting his toes, licking his insteps and up and down his calves. One of the toe-licking guys suddenly rubbed his cock against Sandy's right foot and ejaculated, creaming Sandy's foot with hot cum. Another guy got down and licked the cum out from between Sandy's toes.
"Oh, yeah, yeah, man!" Sandy moaned, writhing, twisting his head. "Eat them hot toes! Beat off that big sexy dick!" He couldn't believe he'd said those words. He must be fucking out of his mind. In school he had been too timid to even speak in class, and here he was mumbling all kinds of crazy things in front of a dozen or more naked men whom he didn't even know. He'd fucking blown his mind. "Oh, yeah, that's it, make it cream! I'm gonna fucking blow the roof off this place."
Guys were watching him open-mouthed. Guys were trembling. Guys who had already blown their loads were beating off again while watching him build to his climax. The guys weren't saying much anymore. They'd suddenly become very serious, their clever talk replaced by heavy breathing.
"Man, what a beautiful teenage stud!" somebody whispered.
A guy waddled forward in a half-squat position, his hand a blur in his sizzling cock.
Wtih a groan of pleasure, he spurted his hot cum on Sandy's cock. Before he'd even finished spurting, another guy leaned over and emptied his loins onto Sandy's cock. Sandy's cock squirmed like a fish in the big hands masturbating it. His cock was bathed in hot cum. He twisted in his chair, his eyes rolling drunkenly. He felt the ropes of cum uncoiling in his balls.
"Oooooooh! Ahhhhhhh! I'm gonna cum, man! I'm gonna-Jesus Christ!" His body arched up, quivering like a sprung bow. He heard all the guys gasp. His body jerked. It felt as if his spinal cord was being ripped out through his asshole. "Ohhhhhhhh, ohhhhhhh, ohhhhhhhhhhh!"
The cum spurted up higher than his head, spurted in quick-fired rounds. Hot cum splatted down all over him. The guys were all around him, mouths gaping, hands open, trying to catch his cum-wads while they were still suspended in the air. His prick was going off like a geyser. The orgasmic sensations gripped his entire body. He felt them in his toes and his fingers, felt them in his scalp and behind his knees. He was one big hot squirting cock. The sensations became so intense that he began to scream. A hand clamped over his mouth and he gnawed at it.
An entire minute passed before he settled down in his chair again. His orgasm had seemed to go on forever. He slumped in his chair, his belly heaving, his cock softening but
still twitching. He felt absolutely drained. He didn't think he'd ever be able to stand up again. The queers were all over him, munching on his flesh, sucking and licking the cum off him. They made cooing sounds, lip-smacking sounds. They were like drone honeybees swarming all over their queen. They were eating him alive. He was a living feast.
"Don't," he said feebly. "Leave me alone. Just let me rest. Please."
They paid him no attention. They were sucking on his armpits again, licking under his balls, nibbling on his nipples. Three guys were making his softened cock flop around, watching with fascinated eyes.
Sandy yawned. His own eyes were heavy. The last thing he was aware of before sleep overwhelmed him was of somebody kissing him on the mouth. He tried to push the guy away, but he knew it was a futile effort. He felt so fucking weak, so weak, so weak . . .
CHAPTER FOUR
He was on the beach, cliffs behind him, the Pacific in front of him. To the west he could see the pier and the yacht harbor. To the east, just more beach. He turned east and walked on, feeling the wind nibble at his ass through the holes in his jeans. His jeans were rags now, but they were all he had left. No skateboard, no surfboard, no shirt, no shoes, no money. He sauntered down the beach, hair flapping behind him in the wind, toes digging into the sun-warmed sand.
He heard somebody call his name. Glancing toward the base of the cliffs, he noticed them suddenly-the guys from his high school. They were sprawled out on boulders, lying on the
sand, leaning up against the cliffs-all of them nude, all of them hard-cocked, all of them playing with themselves and grinning at him. Sandy unzipped his jeans, stepped out of them, and took his hardening cock in his hand. "Hi, guys,"he said.
"Heard you were up in San Francisco," said a guy leaning up against a boulder. He pumped his cock while he spoke.
Sandy recognized the guy, as he did all the guys before him now, but he couldn't remember the guy's name. He couldn't remember any of the guys' names. He could remember the name of the city, though-Santa Barbara, his home town.
"Yeah," Sandy said, pumping his own cock, "I was up there-sucking dick."
"Didn't know you sucked dick," the guy ^aid, grinning.
"All I can get," Sandy said. "Love them big dicks."
The guys who were sprawled across boulders or lying on the sand all started getting up. All the guys stepped forward, forming a line down the beach-a long line. Holding hands, they faced Sandy, their cocks erected to a forty-five-degree angle and throbbing in unison. Sandy could sense the thud, thud, thud of their heartbeats. He looked down the beach and saw an endless line of naked guys, an endless row of hard cocks. Fuck-lube dripped from the tips of their twitching pricks, some of it falling in heavy droplets to the dry sand, some of it
sliding to the sand in spittle-like strands. Sandy fell to his knees in front of the first guy and started sucking his cock. While he sucked, he beat on his own cock.
The guy sighed, wiggling his ass, fucking his hard cock in and out of Sandy's mouth. "Suck that big horny dick. Eat the cum out of it." He came within seconds, his sweet jism sliding down Sandy's throat.
Sandy kissed the guy's deflating prick, then moved on to the next guy in line. The guy groaned as Sandy went down on him.
One by one, Sandy moved down the line, sucking cocks, eating cum. His belly was filling with warm teenage cum. His body tingled all over. He loved sucking cock, and, with each new cock he sucked, he became hungrier. He'd sucked a dozen cocks, two dozen, three dozen, and still the line of horny young studs stretched down the beach as far as he could see. They were his schoolmates, his lovers. He was going to suck off every last one of them, and then he was going to return to the front of the line and began again. He would be sucking cock forever, and he would never get tired of it.
He was sucking a big cock that stuck out of a nearly hairless groin. He was running his hands up and down the guy's baby-smooth legs and was massaging his silky-skinned ass. The guy was petting his head. Sandy looked up into a set of blue eyes.
"How did you get here?" Sandy said, recog-
nizing the boy.
"I followed you," Alexis said, kneading Sandy's scalp with his fingertips. "Like my cock?"
"Mmm," Sandy said, going down on the boy again.
Alexis spurted instantly. Hot cum streamed down Sandy's throat. Sandy moved on to the next boy.
His face was stuffed with hot hard cock. It was as if he'd never been without a cock in his mouth, as if he'd been born sucking prick. He sucked and sucked and sucked, couldn't stop sucking. Another cock went off like a geyser in his mouth . . .
He was choking now, gagging. He woke up with hot tears in his eyes. The cock in his mouth was enormous and wouldn't stop shooting. Huge hands were clamped over his head, forcing more and more thick cock down his throat. Sandy felt himself blacking out. The donkey-cock withdrew enough so that he could breathe. More salty cum spurted into Sandy's mouth.
"Little darling," the guy said, petting Sandy's head. The guy's cock softened slightly, still oozing cum.
Sandy sucked the pisstube dry. He licked the big fat prickhead, not wanting to let the cock out of his mouth. He didn't know where he was, and the prick in his mouth gave him a sense of security.
Pricking up his ears and letting his eyes wander, he pieced together his situation within seconds. He was at that queer party in the flat south of Market Street. He was no longer bound to the chair, but was lying in a dark corner with some guy. He was curled up on the carpeted floor between the guy's legs, his mouth stuffed with the guy's cock, his hands clinging to the guy's thigh. Voices came from farther away in the room, voices much drunker sounding than the voices he had heard before he'd fallen asleep.
The guy stroked his long hair, then rubbed a toe up and down Sandy's asscrack. "Such a beautiful boy. Come home and spend the night with me, won't you?"
Sandy spit out the cock. It was the big cock, the ten-incher. "I'll think about it," Sandy said.
"Can't ask for more than that, I guess," said the guy. He pulled Sandy up so that Sandy had his back to the guy's hairy chest. The guy was sitting up against the wall in the corner. They were partially hidden from the others by a large leather-upholstered easy chair and by the shadow it cast over them. The guy's arms tightened around Sandy, and Sandy felt strangely content. The guy's half-hard cock throbbed against Sandy's ass. Sandy squirmed, trying to snuggle deeper into the guy's embrace. The guy sighed, but said nothing. His breathing was becoming deeper, as if he were falling asleep.
Sandy looked out on the scene in the rest of
the room. He looked past the chair to which he'd been bound, past the floor shackles that had been on his ankles. Only a few guys were still moving. The rest of the guys were sprawled on the floor, on chairs, on couches. Glasses containing melting ice-cubes and half-filled liquor bottles were everywhere. Some of the sprawled-out guys were asleep, some were watching the other guys fuck the kid.
Sandy strained his eyes to make sure that the kid they were fucking was the same kid they'd been fucking when Sandy had arrived here-God, how long ago? No way of knowing. Yeah, it was the same kid-platinum hair cut pageboy style, wispy little body, baby face, six-inch pubescent prick. The kid was no taller than five feet. The grown men riding his ass looked like giants. Why the kid hadn't been fucked to death by now, Sandy couldn't understand. It was incredible. The kid was still begging for more. Sandy thought of that guy in Room 305, the kid who lay face-down on his bed all day and night trying to entice guys to fuck him. That kid and this kid here ought to get together-they had a lot in common.
The kid was on his hands and knees on the floor now, his shiny little ass wiggling incessantly, his back arched and his skinny gut sucked in. While the guy mounted on his ass fucked his shithole with ass-grinding thrusts, the kid sucked the cock of a guy kneeling in front of him. The rear guy's cock made a plooshing, squishing sound in the kid's cum-filled asshole. The kid moaned, munching on the other guy's cock. It was an incredible sight, an exciting sight, and Sandy couldn't resist grabbing his own throbbing cock and masturbating while he watched.
The young kid reached under his belly and pumped on his own cock while servicing the two men. Sandy was astounded that the kid could still be horny. He'd seen the kid shoot off several times earlier.
The guy riding the kid's ass fucked harder and faster, jerking the little guy back and forth on his big cock like some little jack-off toy. The guy mouth-fucking the kid had the kid by the ears and was jerking the kid's head back and forth. Every inch of the guy's big cock was buried in the young boy's face, and Sandy wondered whether he wasn't dreaming all this too. The scene he was witnessing now seemed almost more incredible than his dream of a short time ago in which he'd been sucking the hard cocks of an endless line-up of Santa Barbara high-school studs. Sandy pumped his cock faster, his eyes following the humping asses of the sweaty men who were fucking the little boy from both ends.
The ass-fucking guy writhed, fucking the kid's shithole. "Mannn, he's a tight little fuck! After all that reaming, he's still tight as a fist. Mmm, baby!" He fucked the kid's ass. Cum from a dozen guys oozed out around his ass-plugging cock and dripped off his hairy balls. "Mmm!"
"Hot mouth, too," said the other guy. "Cum-hungry little bugger. Come on, baby, suck my juicy dick." Spit from the kid's mouth dripped off the guy's balls. The kid made moaning sounds.
The ass-fucking guy arched his back and snapped his head back. Every bit of his strength and concentration was directed forward through his big cock. Sandy could visualize the guy's stiff cock quivering in the pit of the kid's skinny belly. The big guy groaned, twisting his head as he was twisting his cock. His sweaty ass jerked rhythmically, his flexing cock just about lifting the kid up and down. Sandy thought he could hear the liquid sounds of cum spurting into the kid's juicy asshole.
"Mannn," the big guy moaned. "Mnnnn, I'm coming!"
The guy in front of the kid gasped a deep inhalation and yanked his cock out of the kid's mouth. The kid kept his mouth enormously wide, tongue hanging out and dripping as he begged for the guy's cum. The guy pumped his cock, squirting his load all over the kid's face. The kid's tongue flapped, trying to catch the spurts of cum. The front guy was still shooting off on the squirming kid's face when the rear guy uncorked from the kid's wiggling ass and crawled over to a couch to collapse on it.
Sandy was on the verge of blowing his load. There was something perversely exciting about watching these sweaty, muscular men work over the skinny little kid, especially with the kid enjoying it so much. He wondered what it would be like to fuck the kid. He kept thinking about the guy raving about how tight the kid's ass was. He thought about all that cum that had been shot into the kid's asshole, and he wondered how it would feel to slide his cock into a tight little ass that had cum leaking out. His hand jerked up and down his cock, working the prickskin against the hard cockshaft. Man, he'd love to blow his load. He felt so fucking horny again.
The front guy fell away from the kid, and the kid was left there on all fours, his tight little fist jerking up and down on his young boner just as fast as Sandy's was jerking on his own. The queers were quiet now. Most of them were sleeping, a couple of them were wrapped around each other and making out, and the few remaining guys were lying back and relaxing, apparently too exhausted to care anymore about the pretty blond chicken wiggling his sexy ass in the air and waiting to be mounted and fucked again.
Sandy saw his opportunity. He was going to get the kid's ass. He salivated as he focused his eyes on the cute wiggling boy-ass across the room. A soft light from a ceiling fixture fell on the kid's ass like a spotlight. Sandy could see the pinkness of the kid's asspucker, could see the glistening whitish cum leaking out. The kid's asspucker twitched, and Sandy's heart banged. He trembled as he peeled the sleeping queer's arms from around him. Then he crawled across the deep carpeting on all fours, his hot prick pecking at his navel. He imagined himself as a canine stud on his way to mount the ripe ass of a bitch in heat-only this ripe little mount was not bitch, but a horny young stud like himself.
Possibly three of the queers noticed him crossing the room, but they just followed him with their liquor-glazed eyes. They all appeared either too drunk or too exhausted to care much about the chicken and the adolescent hustler who were getting together at one end of the room.
The kid watched Sandy crawl over. The boy's green eyes were glazed, as if the queers had dumped whiskey down his throat to help warm him up. The seductive expression he gave Sandy gave him the appearance of being a coquettish young girl.
"Hey, you're cute," the kid said, slurring his words slightly. "Oooh, and you got a big one! You gonna fuck me, my man?" The kid arched his back and turned his ass up. His pucker opened up for a moment, presenting Sandy with a cum-oozing pink shithole. The pucker closed again like a pair of hot, pursed lips.
Sandy had never seen anything like it. He jerked on his cock while he kneeled up behind the kid. He could easily spurt off on the kid's ass if he wanted to. He was ready to blow, but he was trying to fight off his close orgasm.
The kid looked at Sandy over his right shoulder, his green eyes almost teasing the cum out of Sandy's cock. Sandy released his cock and held his breath. His cock throbbed, quivered, standing up in the air as the kid eyed it.
The kid swallowed, licked his lips. "I don't know if I wanna suck it or fuck it, my man. You got a nice one. Hey, and you're so cute."
Sandy let out his breath slowly. The nearly orgasmic sensations that shot through his cock lessened in intensity and quickness, congealing into a fistlike knot of aching tension in his groin. He was giving himself a case of blue balls, but he wanted to enjoy the kid's ass for at least a few minutes before he shot his load.
The kid did something with his loin-muscles again and caused his ass pucker to open. Sandy looked straight down into the young kid's asshole. It was opened to the size of a quarter and was seething inside with the cum of a dozen hot men. The scent of cum and boy-ass rose like fingers of steam, Sandy's nostrils flared and he inhaled deeply. He leaned over and pressed his nose close to the open asshole, sniffing, peering inside.
"Lick it," the kid said. "They say my ass tastes like candy." He wiggled his tight little ass, turning his asshole up even higher. His asspucker was still open.
Sandy dipped his finger in, then made circles with his finger along the edges of the open asspucker. The kid's asshole was unbelievably
hot. The asspucker-flesh quivered under Sandy's massaging finger. There was a pulse-beat in the kid's ass, and steam seemed to rise out of it.
"Ooh, feels so good," the kid moaned, wiggling his ass in circles. His hairless balls dangled between his legs.
Sandy couldn't resist tasting the kid's ass. Pulling his finger out of the kid's ass, Sandy kissed and sucked the kid's hairless, pulsating taint. It tasted musky with cum and sweat. Sandy slid his nose along the kid's taint and licked the kid's low-hanging pink balls. Then he slid back up and thrust his tongue into the young boy's shithole. The boy-ass closed around his tongue, sucking.
"Rim job," the kid gibbered. "Oh, yeah, rim job!"
Sandy wriggled his tongue in the kid's ass, astounded by the way the quivering shithole sucked. The kid's ass didn't taste like candy, despite what the kid thought. It tasted like sweat and cum-salty, alkaline. It tasted like musky ass.
Sandy sucked, swallowing the mingled cum of a dozen guys. His prick squirmed with tight prickling sensations. He couldn't understand it, but he was getting off on sucking the shithole of this young boy. The kid was sexier than any girl Sandy had ever been with. The kid was a turn-on. The kid's asshole was ripe for fucking. Sandy straightened up, cum dripping from his lips, and he mounted the ass-
wiggling little stud
"Yeah, shove it in me! Fuck my ass!"
Sandy's cock disappeared up the kid's ass as easily as a finger into cottoncandy. The kid's pucker opened up, musky heat pouring out of the hole, and Sandy's glossy prickhead plugged his ass. The kid's asshole sucked then, engulfing first Sandy's donghead, then the rest of his cock. Sandy watched his long cock slide up the kid's ass, felt the kid's asshole walls grip his cock like a hot, greased hand and pull him inside until his belly was grinding against the boy's baby-smooth ass.
The boy groaned, wiggling his butt and twisting his head from side to side. "Ohh, my man, my man!"
Sandy hugged the kid's loins and humped the kid's ass, sliding his cock in the boy's seething, sucking asshole. The boy's asshole walls fluttered, undulated, gripped rhythmically. No cunt Sandy had ever been inside of could compare in cock-sucking deftness with this young boy's asshole. The kid was fantastic. Sandy was ready to ask the kid to marry him, and they'd only been fucking a few seconds.
The kid craned his neck and gazed over his left shoulder, flicking his tongue across his lips and rolling his pretty green eyes seductively. "Kiss," he muttered. "Kiss."
Sandy fell on him, pressing his front to the kid's back, bracing his hands on the floor alongside the kid's hands. They fit together
perfectly in this hands-and-knees position. The kid was small enough to fit comfortably under Sandy. Sandy rubbed his cheek in the kid's silky platinum hair. Their lips met, fastened together. The boy's breath was sweet. Tongue flicked over tongue. The sensations from their deep kiss went straight to Sandy's cock. In and out he fucked his prick, crushing his lower belly against the kid's hot ass. Fucking had never been like this before. He wondered whether he could ever fuck a cunt again without feeling let down.
He was looking straight into the kid's estatically rolling eyes. The kid's expression was enough to make him lose his load. He stopped humping and just clung to the kid, enjoying the feel of his cock throbbing inside the kid's pulsating asshole. He inhaled the kid's breath, swallowed his spit, sucking at his lips and tongue. I love you, he wanted to say- because that's what he was feeling-but he kept the words inside him because he knew they would sound ridiculous. He'd only mounted the kid a few minutes ago, not enough time to fall crazy in love with somebody. Or was it? Jesus, what a feeling!
"Hand job," the kid mumbled.
"What?"
"Hand job me. We'll come together, my man."
Keeping himself braced over the kid with his left hand, Sandy groped for the kid's stiff cock with his right hand. The boy's cock was amazingly hard, and so hot that its warmth penetrated the very bones of Sandy's hand.
"Mmm, beat it," the kid sighed, his eyes wobbling. He continued to keep his head turned to the left so he and Sandy could exchange kisses. Sandy licked out the kid's ear. "Mm, my man, fuck me!" His firm little ass rotated.
This was it. Sandy knew it. They were both going to come now. All was set. Sandy had waited long enough. He fucked the kid's ass with his cock, smacking his lower belly against the kid's upturned asscheeks. He fucked as hard as he could, feeling his cock swell and harden until his prick felt as big and stiff as a baseball bat. The little kid grunted, gasped. His teeth were clenched.
"Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!"
Sandy bit the kid's tender young neck, inhaling the fragrance of the kid's soft hair. His hand pumped furiously over the six inches of the boy's red-hot prick. The boy-prick squirmed, flexed, grew harder than steel. Sandy had the strange impression that he was pumping his own prick, that he was jacking himself off instead of the kid. The only thing that destroyed the impression was the fact that the kid's prick was skinnier and shorter than his own.
The boy wriggled all over and Sandy had a hard time staying mounted on the slippery, sweaty little body underneath him.
"Ooooh, feels so good! I'm gonna cream,
my man! Oh, fuck my ass, fuck my ass!" The kid's hot ass churned against Sandy's belly, his asshole milking Sandy's cock. His stiff young prick vibrated in Sandy's fist. "Here it somes, my man-ooooooh!"
Sandy brought his left hand up under the kid just in time to catch the first hot spurt of the kid's cum. Sandy's cupped palm was overflowing within seconds. The kid's cum was hotter than any cum Sandy had ever felt fresh from the cock.
"Ohhhhh, mannnnn, fuck meeee, ohhhh!" The young boy threw his head from side to side. His skinny loins jerked. His cock flexed in Sandy's hand, spurting repeatedly.
Sandy pulled his left hand away, letting the kid spurt into the carpet. He plastered his left hand to his mouth and devoured the boy's hot cum. Cum ran down his chin and neck, rained down on the kid's back. The kid's cum was the sweetest, best-tasting food Sandy had ever eaten. He licked at his hand, licked between his fingers, then fell forward again and lapped at the kid's back. He felt absolutely drunk. His cock fucked in and out of the boy's clutching asshole a few last strokes, then exploded a fiery load of cum.
"Ohhhhh, baaaaby, eeeeeeeh!" Sandy's cries became a whine. He felt his eyeballs roll back in their sockets. His entire body was racked with spasms. His toes felt almost as good as his cock. "Uhh, uhhh, ohhhhh." He let himself groan, let himself thrash. He didn't
care who heard him. He was feeling too damn good. He held on, pumping all his cum into the kid. "Ahhhh!"
They collapsed together in a heap, Sandy on top of the boy, his cock still buried in the kid's ass. He kissed the boy all over the shoulders and neck. "I love you. I love you."
The boy giggled, twisting his platinum head, the boy's eyes were closed an ecstatic smile on his lips. As the boy turned his head back, Sandy kissed him on the lips.
"Mmm, my man, the kid said. "My man."
Sandy couldn't stop from giggling himself. "Marry me," he said. "I'll fuck you all day and all night forever."
"Mmm, okay, my man."
Sandy couldn't stop from giggling himself. "Marry me," he said. "I'll fuck you all day and all night forever."
"Mmm, okay, my man."
Sandy felt a hand stroke down his back.
"Look at these two love-birds," said the queer who had suddenly hunkered down beside him.
"You mean love-chickens," said another queer, who was getting up off the nearest couch.
The first queer trailed his finger up and down Sandy's asscrack. "Chicken ass. Nothing tighter than a chicken ass."
"Bet he's dying for a fuck."
"Or a fist-fuck." The queer rammed his finger up Sandy's ass.
Sandy gasped. He twisted away, pulling his cock out of the boy's ass and escapng the queer's itchy finger at the same time. "Lay off, will ya?"
The two queers looked at each other, simpering grins on their faces. They both looked at Sandy, their faces remaining unchanged.
"Come on, baby," the first queer said. "I can tell you're dying for a fuck. Ever try a fist up your bum?" He tickled Sandy's outstretched leg.
Sandy yanked his leg away, backing up on his ass. "You're crazy," he said, dragging his deflated cock in the carpet.
Then the young kid was pawing him. "It's great," the kid said. "I just love it. I'll go first. Just watch-he'll stick his hand and half his forearm up my shitter."
"Get the Crisco," said the first queer.
"They're getting out the Crisco," came a voice from across the room.
"What?" came a sleepy voice.
"They're gonna fist-fuck the two chickens."
"Hey, I wanna do the older one."
The queers were stirring all over the room, like vampires waking up at sunset. One queer was pulling a plastic lid off a can of Crisco. [The young kid was up on his hands and knees again, panting like any excited puppy, his skinny little ass wiggling.
Sandy looked around desperately for his pants. He knew he had only seconds to escape, if ecsape were at all possible. He couldn't spot his pants anywhere around the room, but he knew he'd run out into the street naked if he had to. Without another thought, he jumped up and charged out of the room.
"Hey, where's he going?"
He found himself in a hallway. Rooms led off it on both sides. He ran to the end of the hallway and darted into a room. He heard the queers behind him.
"Where the hell did the little fucker go?"
"I don't know, but I hope I find him first."
"Is Roger awake?"
Sandy was in a bedroom now. Trapped. A dead end.
He ran to the window. It was open just enough for him to squeeze through, but he was three stories up. He ran back to the doorway and pressed himself up against the wall just as two queers walked in. The moment they'd stepped past him, he slipped along behind them and out into the hall again.
"Hey, that was him."
"Jesus Christ!"
Miraculously, the hall was empty. Sandy ran back down it and plunged blindly through a doorway. He was back in the livingroom.
The blond boy was still up on his hands and knees. Two queers kneeled behind him. One queer had his right hand inside the boy's ass and was twisting his arm slowly. For a split second Sandy almost laughed with relief. He had to be dreaming all this. This just couldn't
be happening. A guy's whole hand inside a skinny boy's asshole? It just couldn't be! Couldn't!
Arms clamped around Sandy. A big hand covered his mouth. Sandy struggled for two seconds, then gave up. He knew that he was done for it. Done for it!
Liquored breath singed his left ear. "Cool it, sweetheart, and come along with me."
CHAPTER FIVE
It was the middle of the night and he was following some half-drunk queer through dark streets he didn't know. The night air was chilly and now he was all goosebumps and shivers as he padded along the cold concrete of cracked sidewalks. The wind had kicked up and was driving a cold mist at his bare back. His arms were crossed around his skateboard, which he hugged to his front as he staggered along after the queer. He'd retrieved his jeans, but the money was gone from his pocket. Whatever queer or queers ripped it off would probably use it to buy more brandy and wine and Crisco, or use as bait to lure some naive young hustler like himself into some sexual lunatic
asylum like the one from which he'd just escaped. Where he was going now was anybody's guess, but he followed along blindly just the same-he felt he owed this queer something who had rescued him from a sure fist up the ass. "How much farther?" Sandy asked. "A few blocks." The queer reached back and took Sandy's left hand.
Sandy pulled away. "Hey, man, I'm not some little old lady who needs help crossing the street."
"That you're not," the queer said. He grabbed Sandy's hand again, crushing it in his grip. "Come on, angel-face, don't be prissy. At this time of night nobody's going to notice. Besides, it's not often that I get to walk hand-in-hand up my street with a beautiful boy."
Sandy felt both disgusted and thrilled to hear the guy call him a beautiful boy. "Hey, I'm not queer," he blurted. "You know that don't you?"
The guy squeezed his hand tighter. "Of course, sweetheart. I never suspected it for a minute. Now let's get going before we're picked up for loitering."
The guy's pad was more like ten blocks away than a few. It was an apartment in a shabby building halfway up a vertical hill. All the buildings in the block were built against each other, as if at one time they had all slid i down the hill and had jammed together, one behind the other. The guy's pad was a single
room with a tiny kitchen area and an attached bathroom. A single bed, unmade, took up half the room. There were no windows in the place.
The guy locked the door and switched on two small table lamps, one on each side of the bed, and Sandy noticed that the walls were crammed with paintings of all sizes, realistic paintings of boys and young men, most of them nudes.
"Like my collection?" the guy had taken off his jacket and was now sliding out of his T-shirt. "It's where all my money goes."
"Sure," Sandy said. "Nice."
The guy's hairy pecs flexed and bulged as he unbuckled his belt. "Take off your jeans, beautiful. Let's not waste any time."
Reluctantly, Sandy unsnapped and unzipped his jeans. Embarrassed and somewhat disgusted with himself, he peeled off his jeans to show the queer his gigantic hard-on. After all that had happened earlier, he didn't understand how he could still be horny.
The queer took off his own jeans, pulling off his boots and socks with them. He straightened up, hands on his hips. His ten-inch cock throbbed, matching Sandy's cock in standing up at a forty-five-degree angle. The queer was all muscle. In the close room, Sandy could smell the guy's sweat along with his own sweat. He discovered himself enjoying the scent, and that disgusted him a little too.
"Well, what're you gonna do-blow me or what? I gotta get going pretty soon." His voice was high-pitched. Why was he so nervous?
The guy stepped forward and placed his huge hands on Sandy's cheeks. The tips of their pricks touched and an electric thrill shot through Sandy's cock. Sandy started to pull away, but the guy tightened his hands on Sandy's cheeks. Sandy stared up into the guy's eyes, vaguely wondering whether the guy was trying to hypnotize him.
"I was hoping you'd spend the night with me." The guy's thumbs rotated gently against Sandy's temples.
Sandy thought he would melt into the guy's arms. The guy was putting him into a trance of some kind. "Can't," Sandy mumbled.
"Why not?"
They were belly to belly now, their cocks pressed together and throbbing. The guy's hot toes stepped on Sandy's cold toes. The smell of sweat, of cock and balls, curled up around them like a warm steam.
"Can't," Sandy mumbled, aware of his eyes closing. "Gotta go home." But he really didn't want to leave.
"Where's home?" The guy's spongy lips brushed Sandy's forehead, nipped his nose.
"I-" Sandy started to say, but there was no sentence ready to follow. He didn't know what he was going to say, didn't know how to answer the guy's question. Where was home? not Santa Barbara. Not that queer hotel.
"You'll spend the night," the guy said, and his huge lips closed over Sandy's mouth.
Sandy collapsed into the guy's arms. The guy's tongue was down his throat. The guy was sucking the breath out of him. Sandy moaned, letting the guy pick him up and put him on the bed. The heavy man-body, all bone and muscle, crushed down on him, burying him in the saggy mattress, smothering him in hairy, sweaty flesh. Sandy's arms went around the man's huge ribcage. Kiss me, eat me, make love to me were the words floating through Sandy's mind. And he wanted to mutter, I love you, to this man who had rescued him and was now seducing him. But that would sound crazy -he didn't even know the guy's name.
"What's your name?" Sandy whispered.
"Huh?"
"Your name. What's your name?"
"Uh-Mike. Mike." He petted Sandy's forehead, smiling down at him.
They moved together, humping, sliding their cocks between their sweaty bellies. The bedsprings cried out under even the subtlest of their movements.
"I'm Sandy."
"Nice name. Real nice name." The guy thrust his tongue down Sandy's throat, and Sandy lay there enjoying the feeling.
Take me, Sandy thought. Take all of me. I'm yours, Mike.
Mike reached over, feeling around on the floor alongside the bed with his right hand.
"Looking for something?" Sandy asked.
"Found it." Mike lifted up slightly and got
his hand between them and between Sandy's legs. Sandy jerked as something cold and wet was slapped under his balls, then was worked up into his asscrack.
"Hey, Mike, what-"
"Relax, baby, just relax."
"But-"
"Shh!" Mike's hand slid and twisted between Sandy's asscheeks. The wet, slippery stuff was warming up, was starting to feel good between Sandy's asscheeks.
"I love you, Mike. I love you."
"Shh! Just relax, little man."
Sandy gasped as Mike's greased finger slid up his asshole. "Oh, Mike, Jesus!"
"Take it easy, baby." Mike's finger twisted, fucking in and out.
Sandy was panting. Mike jabbed his prostate gland, and Sandy thought for a second that he was going to shoot. The hot feeling went right through his cock. "Christ!"
Mile slipped his finger out. Sandy settled back against the mattress, relieved that Mike had stopped reaming his asshole, but at the same time slightly disappointed. It made him nervous to have a finger up his ass, but it felt good in a way, even if it was in a queer way. Getting finger-fucked was only one step away from getting ass-fucked by a cock, and what could be more queer than that? Sandy was glad Mike had stopped.
Mike was reaching over the right side of the bed again. Sandy squirmed under him, trying to snuggle down deeper against the mattress. He wished Mike could cover every inch of him, wished Mike could hide him from the cold and the meanness of the world outside. Mike had rescued him. He loved Mike, wished he could dissolve into Mike's big muscular body. He'd never have to worry bout anything again.
Mike lifted up again, getting his arm between them and moving it rhythmically. Mike was beating his cock jerking his prick off with some kind of lubricant, the same stuff he'd used to finger-fuck Sandy's ass. Sandy heard the squish, squish, squish of Mike's hand on his cock and it turned Sandy on. He reached down and grabbed Mike's cock.
"Let me do it, Mike."
"Sure, baby, sure."
Mike's cock was all greasy and slippery. Sandy had a hard time holding on. He couldn't close his hand around the ten-inch prick, and the big cock jumped around like a fish out of water. Sandy jerked his hand up and down, feeling the thick cock-veins ripple under his palm. He twisted his hand around and around the cockhead. Mike's prick was as hot as that little kid's cock had been at the drunken party. Sandy wondered whether that kid was still taking fists up his ass at this moment.
"Mike?"
Mike grabbed Sandy's cock with a huge greasy hand. "What, angel?" He masturbated Sandy's dong with long, firm strokes.
Sandy sighed, aware of his heart banging his breastbone. "That kid at Roger's house-how can he take a hand up his asshole like that?"
Mike chuckled, beating Sandy's cock to the same rhythm as Sandy was beating his. "He's got a real elastic asshole, I imagine."
"But a whole fist? An arm?"
"He could probably take a foot and a leg if he had to. The kid's a little slut. Was probably born with a cock up his ass, or else he was finger-fucking his shitter while he was still in the crib. Christ, he's been the hit of orgy parties for years now. He's like a junkie, only his form of junk is whatever he can get somebody to shove up his shitter. Gorgeous boy, thought. You'd think he'd be all burnt out by now."
The sound of Mike's voice was lulling Sandy toward sleep. He yawned. "Let's blow our loads, Mike, and then let's sleep. Sleep on top of me, just like this." With his free hand, he hugged Mike to him until they were pressed hard together, their arms trapped between them, their cocks clutched in each other's fist. Their lips met, and Sandy moaned as Mike once again sucked the breath out of him. "Cream on me, Mike. Shoot your cum all over my stomach."
Mike sighed. "Baby, you're too much. Jesus if Bert could only see me now." He let go of Sandy's cock and slid down until his greased cock was sliding between Sandy's legs and was nuzzling under Sandy's balls.
"Who's Bert?"
"My ex-lover, a hopeless chicken hawk. If he'd ever run into you, he'd lose his load three times before he even got his pants off. Christ, he'd stab me in the back out of pure jealousy if he saw me riding you right now."
Sandy hugged Mike tighter. He had let go of Mike's cock and now had both arms around the man. He humped at Mike's stomach. "Let's cream, Mike. Let's cream just like this. I can come any time." His prick had swelled to the size of an arm between them, and the prickskin was ready to peel off. "Come on, Mike, let's get off our rocks together."
"Ah, youth!" Mike said. "Impatient. Insatiable." He raised up, hooking his arms under Sandy's legs and pushing them up toward Sandy's chest.
Sandy's legs bent at the knees, hooking over Mike's wide shoulders, and suddenly Sandy's thighs were crushed to his own shoulders. Sandy's ass lifted up in the air, and Mike's cockhead pecked up and down Sandy's ass-crack.
It happened so fast that Sandy wasn't sure what was happening. His first reaction was to giggle. Mike's hot prickhead kissed Sandy's asspucker and Sandy felt a strange throbbing ache shoot through the heart of his loins. Mike's teeth sank into the side of Sandy's neck. Mike's cockhead twisted and pushed hard against Sandy's asspucker.
"Mike, nooo!" Jesus, this couldn't be
happening. Sandy pounded Mike's back with his fists. "Mike, stop, stop!"
Mike's prickhead sank into Sandy's ass.
Sandy felt fire in his asspucker. His asshole was being torn wide open. He was gasping, hot tears running down his cheeks. "Oh, Mike, Mike, Mike, oh Jesus, oh please!" he breathed the words more than cried them.
Mike's entire cock sank into him-all ten thick, hard inches. Sandy felt Mike's dickhead throbbing like a hot heart somewhere in the center of his belly. He felt an enormous pressure in his loins, as if his body were going to split in two. The pressure seemed to extend throughout his body. His toes felt bloated, the skin on them stretched tight and tingling. He felt pressure in his stomach, and he expected Mike's cock to come up his throat and out his mouth at any moment. He was filled with cock. It was as if he'd become a cock-Mike's cock-as if he were a five-foot-seven-inch, one-hundred-thirty-pound cock growing out of Mike's muscular loins. He clamped his eyes shut, held his breath, dug his fingernails into Mike's back.
Make lapped at Sandy's face like a German shepherd. "Hot little stud ass!" he muttered. "Tight little butch stud!" He began to hump slowly. His cock withdrew an inch, then fucked in an inch.
Sandy groaned. His insides were going to explode. He rubbed the soles of his feet against Mike's stubbly cheeks, dug his toenails into Mike's temples.
Mike turned his head, licked Sandy's left foot. He pulled his cock back two inches, then eased back in to the hilt.
Mike turned his head to the other side, gnawing at Sandy's right foot. His cock eased out three inches, then fucked back in, out four inches, then fucked back in. Suddenly half his cock was fucking in and out of Sandy's ass.
Sandys ass bucked up and down spontaneously, his asshole clutching furiously at the man's huge cock. His asshole was aching, throbbing, on fire. His balls had ballooned, and they ached. Sandy twisted his head from side to side, moaning loudly, biting at the folds of pillow on either side of his head. The bedsprings shrieked under him as if they too could somehow feel his agony.
Mike had Sandy's right big toe in his mouth, then half the toes of Sandy's right foot. The man's teeth were electric, his hips and tongue searing. Fingers of sensation wriggled down the core of Sandy's right leg and shot through his cock. Sandy's hand went to his cock, and he began pumping it as best he could with his hand crushed between their bellies.
Miraculously, the unbearable pain in his asshole vanished the moment he touched his cock. He felt numb in the ass for a moment, then began to experience a strange sort of pleasrue that saturated his loins and pulsated to the rhythm of Mike's fucking.
Mike's cock was fucking in and out ten inches at a time now, sliding easily in Sandy's greased asshole. The big man pushed up, bracing his hands on the mattress alongside Sandy's shoulders. He was bridged over Sandy in a pushup position now, his shoulders still hooked under Sand's knees but his weight off Sandy. His cock fucked in and out of Sandy's asshole, and he continued to bite and suck at Sandy's feet and toes, twisting his head first to one side, then to the other.
"Man, this is fucking!" he muttered, licking wildly at Sandy's toes. "Hot chicken! Jesus, what an ass!"
Sandy felt as much fascination at watching the man fuck him as he did pleasure from the fucking itself. All the muscles of the man's torso stood out clean and hard-the square pectorals, the armorlike ridges of abdominal muscle. Sweat glistened on the man's black chest-hair. Sweat trickled from his hairy armpits, rippling down in streams over his thick rubs and muscles. Bulging veins pulsed on the man's thrusting lower abdomen. Sandy could see the endlessly long cock with its thick central vein fucking in and out of his asshole. It was a beautiful sight and so fucking exciting!
Sandy eased his cock-beating. He was ready to shoot gallons of cum on himself, but he didn't want to do that yet. He wanted to revel in these new sensations for as long as he possibly could. He gripped his cock at the base, watching its eight inches throb, watching the veins nearly explode out from under the tight-stretched cockskin, watching the cockhead swell and the piss-slit gape. The fuck-lube bubbled out, rolling down the cockhead, oozing down the prickshaft. Sandy licked his lips, wishing he was flexible enough to lean forward and to taste his own cock. He envied the guys who had sucked his cock. His prick was a big sexy beauty.
Mike bore down, fucking harder and faster. His hard loins slammed Sandy's ass. His prick-head pounded the pit of Sandy's asshole. The huge cock fucked in and out, gleaming with grease, flushed with blood. Sandy put his left hand on Mike's lean hip, guiding the man in his fucking. Sandy felt vaguely afraid that the man's savage fucking would rip him up inside. He had a vague impression that the man was going to fuck him to death, or at least that he would end up in the hospital. But at the same time that he felt these misgivings, he also felt a strange, almost self-destructive desire. He wished the man would fuck him harder, wished the man's cock was a foot long instead of ten inches.
"Fuck me!" he grunted, thrashing his head from side to side. "Fuck me, Mike, oh God, fuck me!" The sensations in his loins had become so intense that he could no longer decide whether to label them pleasure or pain. Maybe they were both pleasure and pain, or
maybe the pleasure had become so intense that it had become pain, or the pain so intense that his nerves could no longer distinguish one from the other. "Oh Jesus, Mike, fuck me, screw me, ohhh mannnn!"
He pumped his cock again, his loins filled with aching, fiery pulsations that had him biting his lips to prevent himself from screaming like a girl. His prick grew in his hand, became harder than steel. His prickhead appeared to throb like a flashing beacon. He bucked up and down, writhing under his man-lover, twisting his head in mad circles, arching his back. Above him, Mike was snapping his head from side to side. Sweat pelted Sandy like hot rain. The smell of man saturated Sandy's head.
"I'm gonna come! Oh Mike, I'm gonna come!" It felt as if a gigantic hot spring were uncoiling in Sandy's loins. Smaller springs uncoiled in his swollen balls. Searing spears of cum shot through the core of his cock. "Ahhhhhhh! Awwwwwww!"
Heavy splats of hot cum slapped down on Sandy's face. Cum splatted on his neck, on his :hest, on his belly. Hot flashes and chills swept through his body simultaneously. He felt like a gigntic quivering cock. His loins felt as if they were exploding inside.
Mike grunted, gasped. "Oh shit, oh Christ, what an ass, what a chicken! Oh God, shit, fuck!" His body stiffened. His eyes rolled back. He arched his spine and fucked his cock into Sandy as if trying to ram his snakelike monster cock up Sandy's throat and out his gaping mouth. His muscular loins slammed Sandy's jerking ass. His sizzling cum exploded up Sandy's contracting shithole. "Ahhhhhh!"
Shoot it, Mike, oh God, shoot it, blast me!" Sandy jerked with the explosions of the man's cum into his body. The streams of man-cum splashed against the rubbery walls of his asshole. Sandy felt the heat of the man's loins filling him. Mike pumped a round of cum into him, and Sandy responded by pumping another load of cum onto his own chest. It was as if Mike's cum was shooting up Sandy's asshole and then streaming through Sandy's cocks to spurt out onto Sandy's chest. Sandy was bathing himself in cum. The hot, sticky fuck fluid was trickling down his flanks, was running down into his armpits. He lapped at the cum he'd shot on his lips and cheeks, savoring the sweet alkaline taste and aroma.
Sandy stopped shooting first, and a few seconds later Mike fired his last spurt up Sandy's ass. Their pricks throbbed in unison as the last thrills of orgasm gnawed through their cocks and the last thick drops of cum oozed from their piss-slits. Mike hauled his softening cock out of Sandy's asshole, milking his prick in his muscular hand. He caught some thick cum on his fingers, then shoved his arm forward and offered it to Sandy. Sandy sucked off the rich man-cum greedily. As he lowered his aching legs to the mattress, he felt warm cum trickling out of his asshole, and he wished he were supple enough to roll himself into a ball so he could suck Mike's cum out of himself.
"Jesus Christ, what a load you shot!" Mike said. He crouched over Sandy like a panther and lapped the cum off Sandy's flesh. His big wet tongue covered almost every inch of Sandy's torso before he was finished. He licked down into Sandy's navel, then up and down Sandy's flanks. He sucked the cum off Sandy's brown nipples, munched on Sandy's neck, licked off Sandy's face. His large mouth covered Sandy's mouth and Sandy groaned as Mike's huge tongue sank down into his throat. Mike settled down on him then, smothering him, burying him in the mattress. The mattress seemed to swell up all around Sandy. The springs creaked under him, almost a purring sound now compared to the violent shrieking they'd made during Mike's fucking of his ass.
Mike reached off the right side of the bed and hauled a thick blanket up to cover them with. After a minute of struggle, Mike managed to drape the blanket over his back and to seal himself and Sandy in.
Sandy had never felt so warm, so secure, in his life. "I love you, Mike."
"Sure, kid," Mike said. He kissed Sandy, breaking off the kiss long before Sandy was ready, then buried his face in the side of Sandy's neck. His breathing became deeper, and he was asleep in seconds.
Sandy lay awake under him, feeling Mike's softened cock between his thighs, feeling his own cock hard and throbbing between their abdomens. He began to sweat from the heat of Mike and the blanket covering him, but he didn't care. He listened to Mike's breathing, felt Mike's heart thudding, felt Mike's pulse in several places against his body. He inhaled the scent of the man, sighed, then sighed again. Although he didn't want to fall asleep for awhile yet, he was soon dreaming.
CHAPTER SIX
Mike was shaking him awake. Strangely, he knew exactly where he was when he woke up. He rubbed his eyes, watching Mike come into focus above him. Mike was standing alongside the bed, dressed in jeans, boots, and flannel shirt. The reflection of a single lamp glinted off the large metal buckle of Mike's belt. The room was dim and cozy.
"Time to get up kid. I gotta go to work."
"Work? It's the middle of the night." Sandy stretched under the blanket, then closed his eyes. All he wanted to do was to go back to sleep.
Mike pulled the blanket off him. A blanket of cold air replaced it, and Sandy was instantly
shivering.
"Hey, Mike, what's the idea?" Sandy sat up, bedsprings whining, and hugged himself.
"You've gotta go, kid. It's after seven. I gotta be to work by eight." He handed Sandy his jeans.
Sandy looked around confusedly for a few moments, then took the jeans. He remembered then that there were no windows in this cubicle of an apartment. It would be like midnight in here at noon. He stood up and pulled on his jeans, nearly losing his balance in the process. His head felt fuzzy, his eyes heavy and scratchy. He wondered how long he d slept. It seemed like only minutes. He zipped up his pants, fighting the zipper as usual because his cock was hard. He had to piss badly.
Mike shoved the skateboard at him. "Okay, buck, let's go. The foreman's a bitch about anybody being late." He picked up a yellow hardhat from the top of his dresser. It was the first time Sandy had noticed the hat.
"You a construction guy, Mike?"
"Yeah. Now let's go." He pushed Sandy toward the door.
Out on the street Sandy had no idea where he was.
"Well, I'll see ya, buck," Mike said, flashing a quick smile. Then he turned and strode off down the sidewalk.
Stunned, Sandy watched him for a few moments, then dropped his board, hopped on, and took off after the big man. His heart was pounding. Mike was a different person this morning. Sandy felt as if he were chasing a stranger. He hopped off his board.
"Hey, Mike," Sandy said timidly. "Where you going?"
Mike glanced at him, continuing his fast walk. "I told you-to work. What's the matter, don't you believe me?"
Sandy snatched up his board and trotted along beside the man. "Sure I believe you. I just mean-" He knew what he meant, but he didn't know how to say it.
Mike slowed down and pulled out his wallet. He pulled out a ten and shoved it at Sandy. "It's all I got, kid. I'd have to go to the bank for more, and I don't have the time right now. Besides, the bank's not open at this hour."
Sandy eyed the money, but didn't take it. He didn't want it. What he wanted was for Mike to take hold of his hand like he had last night on the way to Mike's apartment.
"Look, kid, I'm sorry, but it's ten or nothing. I didn't go to that party last night with the idea of picking up trade. Know what I mean? You should have settled the money situation with Roger before you ever left your street corner."
Sandy felt a fist in his throat. What could he say? "They robbed me," he mumbled. "Took everything I had in my pocket."
"That's the breaks, kid. You oughta know that, being in this business of yours." He glanced at Sandy again, then glanced quickly
away. "Look, I'm not the one who ripped you off. I'm the one who rescued your ass, remember? You woulda had a dozen fists up your shitter last night if I hadn't got you out of there. Remember that."
"Sure," Sandy mumbled. "Thanks."
"Shit, I'm gonna miss my bus. Gotta get goin', kid. Here, damn it, take it." He shoved the ten into Sandy's hand, then took off at a trot down the hill, his heavy boots clopping on the sidewalk, his shiny yellow hardhat hugged under his left arm and reflecting the morning sunshine.
Sandy sat down on the sidewalk, hugging his skateboard. The ten-dollar bill lay next to him. He was aware of a cool breeze bristling the blond hairs of his armpits. He looked up, noticing the perfect deep blue of the morning sky. He heard the thudding of Mike's boots becoming softer and softer, but he didn't dare look down the hill to watch the man disappear. The fist in his throat would choke him if he did that. After a while he got up and shoved the ten into his right front pocket. He tried not to think about Mike. Instead, he concentrated all his mind on figuring out where exactly in this city by the bay he was standing now, abandoned like Mike's crumpled ten.
* * *
His room had been ransacked. They'd overturned his mattress, had pulled down the
shade, had ripped all the drawers out of the single dresser that furnished the room. They must have picked the lock, because there were no signs of forced entry. They'd found his money-all his earnings from letting dozens of queer men slobber over him. They'd ripped off his T-shirt and his denim jacket and his worn sandals.
He stood in the room, the door open behind him, looking down at the rubble. The stained pillow in whose case he'd hidden the wad of bills now rested on the bare springs of the bed. Feathers stuck out of all four corners of the pillow. Sandy thought that his brain must be made of feathers for him to have hidden the bills in so obvious a place as his pillowcase. They'd most likely taken the case with them, stuffing it with his jacket, his T-shirt, his sandals, and all his money. They could have at least left the pillowcase, he thought. Now he'd have to rest his head on a pillow crusty with cum stains and with feathers spurting out its four corners.
He wrestled the mattress back onto the bed, then shoved the bed over to the window so he could climb on it and re-hang the yellowed shade. The shade looked as if it were decorated with piss stains. He rammed the empty dresser drawers back in, noting grains of sand and wads of lint in all of them. He slammed shut the door, locked it, rechecked the lock, then peeled off his pants and fell on the bed. He used his jeans for a pillow, listening to Mike's crisp ten crumpled in their pocket as he settled his head down.
He thought about getting up and shoving the dresser against the door, just to be on the safe side. He thought about picking up his skateboard and sleeping with it between his legs. He imagined himself waking up with nothing left but his cock and balls-if they din't rip off those too. He envisioned his naked body lying curled up on the bare mattress while faceless, nameless thieves made off down the hall with his jeans, his skateboard, and, in a small paper bag, his prick and balls.
Shoulda stayed up on that hill, he thought. Just looking up at the sky and not thinking. Now he had real troubles. He had to score tonight or he wouldn't even have a place to sleep anymore. His rent was paid up only through tomorrow noon. The sudden fear hit him that maybe nobody would want to buy his body tonight, or that nobody would come up with the promised cash. He had ten bucks left, but he needed food, and this fucking skid-row room was twelve bucks a day. He curled up tighter, shoving his hands down between his knees. He heard shouting in the street outside. San Francisco was becoming more awake by the minute. He closed his eyes and fell into a deep sleep.
He woke up with shafts of sunshine sneaking in under the windowshade. He guessed that it was late afternoon again. His prick was stiff as a bone and his bladder was near rupturing.
He rolled over and sat up to pull his jeans on. Sweat dripped off his nose. It was a sweltering day outside, the hottest one yet, he guessed. He stood up, forcing his dick into his jeans and zipping up, then checked his pocket for the ten and his room key.
As he locked the door behind him, standing out in the dim hallway, he thought about how absurd it was to turn this key in this lock. They'd get in if they wanted to, even if there were ten locks on the door.
He enjoyed a long, peaceful, private piss in the John at the end of the hall. No tall queer licking his toes and begging for his piss this afternoon. After milking the piss out of his cock, he felt the urge to shit.
He couldn't believe that the toilet stalls were empty. He enjoyed a leisurely shit, peeking through the hole in the stall wall and smiling because the other stall was empty. No queer sticking his prick through the hole or smacking lips on the other side and begging for a cock to suck. The walls of these stalls were covered with queer graffiti and obscene drawings. And they were crusted with the dried cum of hundreds, maybe thousands, of men and boys. Queers seemed to get off on blowing their loads against toilet walls like dogs got off pissing on fire hydrants. For a moment, Sandy toyed with the idea of adding his own contribution to the walls, in the form of a thick, gummy load, but then he remembered that in a business like his, he couldn't afford to waste his cum, especially on a day like this. He needed to score in a big way tonight.
He left the stall, the toilet flushing behind him, then stepped into the drying off area of the small shower room. He peered into the shower cubicle, expecting a hand to suddenly reach out and yank him inside. He couldn't believe it-nothing inside but two leaking shower-heads and a dim lightbulb casting an orangish glow in the tiny room. His luck seemed to be changing.
Almost giddy from the chance to enjoy a private shower, he danced out of his jeans, tossed them over a towel peg in the drying off area, and stepped around the corner into the shower cubicle. He turned on both showers full blast and as hot as he could stand. He stepped under them, sighing and chuckling as the hot water gushed over him.
He spent ten, maybe fifteen minutes letting the hot water cleanse his skin and relax his muscles. His prick remained stiff as a bone and, as he soaped it, he brought himself to the edge of orgasm several times. He would have stayed in the shower longer, but he didn't trust his right hand anymore. He had to save that load.
He stood dripping in the drying-off area, wishing he had a towel, then grabbed his jeans off the peg and used them to towel off his head. His room key fell out of his left pocket and clinked on the concrete. It came to a stop inches from the gaping black hole that served
as a drain. Sandy snatched it up and stuffed it back in his pocket-the right pocket this time, the pocket with the ten-dollar bill in it, his food money, his survival money. The ten was gone.
Sandy searched the floor. Nothing. He ran out into the restroom, checked the entire floor, peered into the urinal he'd pissed in. Nothing. He checked the toilet stall, checked the toilet. Nothing.
"Goddamn it!" he shouted. "Goddamn it!" He couldn't take anymore of this shit. "Goddamn it!"
Still dripping from his shower, his jeans clutched in his left hand, he banged open the restroom door and charged out into the all. Nobody in sight. The hall almost dark. All those usually open doors sealed up tight this afternoon.
Where were all the fucking queers? There seemed to be a conspiracy against him. They were a gang of thieves-and now they were all hiding. Only one door was open, far down the hall near his own room, where artificial light was falling in a rectangle on the hallway floor in front of it. Sandy went for the light.
The room was number 305 and that itchy-assed young kid was lying face-down on his mattress as usual. His head was resting on his arms, his face turned toward the door and his eyes closed as Sandy bolted into the room.
The kid's ass wiggled simultaneously with the opening of his eyes. His drunkish gaze fell
immediately on Sandy's erect, wagging cock, and the kid arched his back, shoving his naked ass high in the air. The kid's own cock protruded from under his hip like a purple-headed snake. His cock was larger than Sandy had imagined.
Sandy was speechless for a few seconds at the realization that he had finally entered the kid's room. He felt both fascinated and uneasy. It was like having entered the lair of a black widow spider. After a few moments, however, his anger reasserted itself.
"You took it, didn't you?"
The kid's face went from a leer to a frown to a leer, all in a fraction of a second. His eyelashes fluttered almost imperceptibly. "No, I didn't take it, but I will, if you give it to me." He reached back with both hands and tugged apart his grapefruit-sized asscheeks.
"You faggot whore!" Sandy lunged at him, grabbed him by the hair and yanked his head up. "Where's my ten?"
The kid's blue eyes rolled as if he were in ecstasy. "Right there between your legs, stud." The kid gasped out the words.
Dangling the kid's head by the hair with his left hand, Sandy let his right hand slam across the kid's face. A trickle of blood appeared instantly from the right corner of the kid's mouth.
Oh Jesus, Sandy thought, what have I done? For a moment he wanted to cradle the kid's head in his arms, kiss the kid's face and tell the kid he was sorry, but the kid didn't give him a chance.
"What a man! What a stud!" The kid's eyes wobbled and he groped for Sandy's cock. His fingernails managed to trail electrically under Sandy's tight, wrinkled ball sac before Sandy could avoid them.
Sandy dropped the kid's head. "Fucking queer, keep your claws off me!"
The kid grinned, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth and making him resemble a teenage vampire. "Don't be afraid, angel. I won't hurt you. Don't be afraid to take what you want."
"I'm not afraid of anything, and all I want is my ten."
The kid shoved his ass up high and tugged apart his asscheeks again. His slightly open asspucker was inflamed and twitching. A slow trickle of cum leaked out, dribbling down over the kid's hairless ass and balls.
Sandy found his cock throbbing for the kid's ass. A zillion hot prickles swirled through the length of his splitting-hard boner. His balls squirmed in their tight sac.
"What's the matter, not man enough?" the kid crooned. "Afraid this little fag will suck your nuts off or something?" He flicked his tongue at the corner of his mouth, licking off the blood.
Sandy swallowed, took a deep breath. "Look, all I want is my ten back. Somebody ripped off my ten. It was all I had left."
"Poor baby," the kid said, shaking his head from side to side and making a babyish face. "Somebody stole his candy money."
"Bastard!" Sandy said. "Dirty little bastard!"
"Poor baby. Somebody took his candy money."
Sandy jumped on him. He knew it was exactly what the kid wanted, but that didn't matter. What mattered was for Sandy to blow off his anger, to blow off his lust, before they blew his skull open. He trembled as he drove his cock into the kid's seething asshole, trembled as if he had some kind of nervous disease.
"Ohhh, wowwww!" the kid moaned. "You delicious buck! Give it to me! Oh God, give it to me!"
Sandy wrapped his arms around the kid's heaving ribcage, gnawed into the kid's neck. The kid arched up, twisting his head, groaning. Sandy fucked his cock in and out of the kid's shithole, smacked his belly as hard as he could at the kid's rotating ass.
"Oh, baby, fuck me! On, baby, ream my guts out!" The kid sounded delirious. He continued to arch up against Sandy like a cobra, continued to toss and twist his head.
The metal legs of the bed screeched on the wood floor as the bed inched back and forth and from side to side. Sandy let himself go, put all his rage, all his lust into fucking the boy.
The boy was somewhere around his own
age, maybe a year younger. Sandy wondered how long he'd been lying on this bed, how long he'd been devoting his life to satisfying his voracious asshole. He wondered what would drive a boy to such an obsession. It was as if getting fucked were a drug to which the kid was hopelessly addicted. The kid at the party last night was like this too, but that kid had been even younger, and that kid was addicted not only to fucking cock, but to fucking fists as well. It was crazy. Sandy couldn't understand it. He fucked the kid, punishing him for his inscrutability.
"Oh, man, fuck me, screw me, oh do it, do it!"
Sandy pounded the kid, fucked the kid's asshole mercilessly with his eight-inch cock. He got cruel. The kid's asshole was boiling inside. The kid's asshole wall manipulated Sandy's cock like fingers. Sandy's cock felt as if the shaft would split down the middle.
"Oh, wowww, ohhh mannnn!" Sandy vocalized his own feelings now. He could still sense that the door to the kid's room was open and that anybody could walk past or come in- anybody could see him and hear him if they wanted to-but he really didn't care right now. All he cared about was fucking this young boy as hard as he could for as long as he could before he lost his load.
Strangely, as horny as he was he was nowhere near to cumming. He sensed that he could hold off for as long as he wanted to,
fucking until the kid cried uncle, if that were possible. There was more behind his fucking right now than lust. There was anger, there was hatred. He realized that he was using the kid's ass like a punching bag to vent his anger and hatred for whoever had ripped off his money and his sandals, for whoever had violated the privacy of his room, the only home he had right now.
"Fuck you, you faggot whore! Fuck you, fuck you!" He ground his teeth as he fucked savagely in and out of the kid's asshole.
"Ohhhh God, you're killing me, baby, you're whipping up my ass! Get cruel! Ohhh Jesus, ohh man!" The kid squirmed in Sandy's arms, slippery with sweat and from the wetness of Sandy's body.
Sandy could feel the kid's heart banging under his arms. The kid's supple ribcage heaved like a high-speed bellows. Sandy hugged the kid tighter, suddenly thrilled by the awareness that he was cradling a living, breathing, warm human being, a kid like himself despite the kid's strangeness. He twisted his tongue into the kid's ear, listened with pleasure to the kid's responding moan. The kid wasn't all that bad, really. And his ass was so hot.
"I love you," Sandy whispered, surprised, almost shocked by his words. They'd come out of nowhere, had shot out of some secret recess of his mind. They were an expression of pure lust.
"Oh, me too," the kid gasped, writhing deliriously. "Mmm, I love you." He twisted his head to the side, and suddenly they were kissing.
The kisses went straight to Sandy's cock. The slightly numb, all-powerful feeling left Sandy's cock. The sense that he could go on fucking forever, that his cock was a blunt wooden fuck-machine disappeared. The kid's ass was going to suck the cum out of him, and there was nothing Sandy could do to prevent it. It was the kid's hot kisses that were making him helpless. All he wanted to do now was cum. He'd shoot his hot fuck fluid up the kid's ass and the two of them would melt together in ecstasy.
"I love you," Sandy muttered, lapping at the kid's neck, nipping the kid's warm flesh with his teeth. "I'm gonna cum up your ass."
"Ohh man, you're too much!" the kid moaned. "Where did you come from, you angel?"
Sandy crushed the kid in his arms, fucking with quicker, shorter, tighter strokes of his cock. The kid's ass responded by gripping his cock tighter, by manipulating Sandy's cock-skin more deftly. Sandy could have sworn the kid's asshole was equipped with lips and a tongue. The tight little shithole seemed to know exactly how to stimulate the most sensitive parts of Sandy's cock.
Sandy marveled that this was the same shithole he'd seen open and slack on more than one occasion when he walked past the kid's room. This was the same shithole that had appeared torpedoed and destroyed, permanently reamed out. And now here it was just about popping his prick out of its skin. The kid had perfect control of himself, responding to a sliding cock like a baby's mouth to a nipple.
"Why do you do this?" Sandy asked, again, his words coming seemingly out of nowhere and surprising even himself.
"Hm?"
"Why do you lay here like this all the time getting fucked?"
"Feels good."
"Yeah, but all the time?"
"I like to feel good all the time. Love me?"
Sandy hesitated a moment. Then the words flowed out of him. "Love you. Love your ass." There was no pause in his fucking. His cock-strokes were fluid, graceful. They made rhythmic squishing noises in the kid's ass. He kissed the kid deeply, sucking the breath out of the boy, watching the kid's blue eyes turn up and back.
The kid's asshole exploded around his cock. The boy shuddered in his arms. "Ohhh, I'm cumming!" the boy moaned, the tone of his voice serene. "Come with me, angel!" The boy shivered, suddenly going limp and heavy in Sandy's arms.
They crashed forward together, the boy's asshole clutching repeatedly at Sandy's cock.
As they hit the mattress, Sandy sank his teeth into the back of the boy's neck, tasting hair and sweat, feeling the boy's skin prickle against his lips. His cock flexed in the boy's asshole and his cum streamed out of him in long spurts.
"Ohhhhhh, baby, I'm cumming!" Sandy moaned the words softly, drooling hot spit all over the kid's neck as he said them. Another long spurt of cum drifted through his cock, then another. If felt as if his balls were being slowly sucked up through his pisstube. His cock seemed to inflate like a long balloon. It contracted, shooting more cum. Sandy felt orgasmic sensations in his own asshole and all through his loins. As usual, his toes curled under, clutching at the balls of his feet. They felt tight and swollen and hot, and orgasmic needles shot through them as if they too were spasming cocks.
The kid's asshole finally stopped its squeezing and relaxed, loosening around Sandy's cock and making him sigh with a sort of relief. He eased his half-hard cock out of the kid's ass. His cock still twitched gently with the after shocks of orgasm, he climbed off the bed and stood looking down at the kid, his cock still eight inches long, but hanging heavy rather than standing up. Cum dripped off the end.
The kid peeled his belly away from the cum-sticky mattress and sat up at the edge of the bed, his feet coming to rest on Sandy's insteps. He took Sandy's cock by the base and plopped the end into his open mouth. His head bobbed, his tongue licked, his lips sucked. He sucked the residual cum out of Sandy's pisstube and cleaned all the cum and assjuices off the outside. Sandy's cock began to stiffen and Sandy pulled back.
"Let me eat it," the kid said, turning his blue eyes up. He resembled a pleading puppy.
"Can't," Sandy said. "I gotta save it. I need some bread fast or I'm gonna starve. My cum's worth bucks."
The kid caught up a handful of his own pooled cum from the mattress, where he'd shot it under his belly. He lifted his cum-dripping hand to Sandy's lips. "Here, taste this. I'll feed you all you want-anytime. It's the best kind of food."
Sandy made a face. His first thought was, How disgusting! But he leaned his head forward and sucked up the thick boy-cum as if it were fresh cow-cream. Then he licked the boy's palm and fingers clean. He was getting to like the taste and smell of this stuff. It was crazy.
The kid smiled up at him. "Stay with me. We'll lock ourselves in and make love all night."
"Gotta go," Sandy said, picking up his jeans.
"I didn't take your money," the kid said. "Believe me?"
"Yeah," Sandy said. "I believe you."
CHAPTER SEVEN
It was still early, three o'clock at the latest, but already Polk Street was sweating hustlers along its store fronts. The heat seemed to be bringing them out early, out of their sweltering hotel rooms. The street wasn't much cooler, but at least the air was open, and even in the intense sunlight drenching the storefronts it felt cooler than in their airless, boxlike hotel rooms.
Sandy smiled to see that he wasn't the only one today without shirt and shoes on. As he meandered up the three-block stretch where the hustlers took their posts and displayed their crotch bulges to the world, Sandy passed at least three barefooted, barechested teen-
agers, the sweat trickling from their armpits, musky smells rising from them and floating on the breeze. Sandy was still the only hustler with a skateboard, however, and that made him feel as if he had one up on the others-he was still unique.
He took his time this afternoon, taking in all the sights and smells and sounds of the street. He studied the other hustlers today instead of ignoring them as he had on previous afternoons. He noted the way they stood, noted the expressions on their faces, appraised their crotch bulges in the same shameless way that any queer John would. Some of the buys wore jeans so tight that he could see the outlines of their cockheads at the end of their swollen cockshafts. Most of the boys appeared to be semi-hard, in a mild state of sexual excitement. A few of them displayed shameless hard-ons. Sandy caught himself wondering what their cocks would look like once they got their pants off. He passed a boy dressed in nothing but a pair of tight, ultrashort cutoffs. The kid nodded to him. Sandy smiled.
He was at the upper part of the street now, approaching the store where Alexis was always posted, but instead of Alexis he saw the kid in the black leather jacket. It was ninety degrees today, but the kid was still dressed in boots, jeans, and leather jacket. Sweat was dripping like tears off the kid's face and raining down all over the leather. It was as if the pores of the leather were bleeding sweat. He nodded to the
kid and walked past him. He was tempted to tell the kid again today to stay cool, but he thought the kid might tell him to shove his head up his ass.
At the end of the block he stopped and gazed up the street for awhile, tempted to walk to the top of the sloping street and to scan over the hill for Alexis. Today he wanted to see Alexis, needed to see him. He was ready today to make that hundred he could have made yesterday if he hadn't been so paranoid about not making it with Alexis. Shit, it would have been good money, maybe even fun. Alexis was clean and smiling and good looking, unlike most of the guys he'd run into last night. And Alexis liked him, seemed genuinely to like him, and Sandy felt that he needed someone to like him right now. Alexis liked to talk, like to listen, asked questions. Sandy wished now that he wouldn't have been so cool toward Alexis, especially yesterday when he'd fled Alexis as if the handsome boy were that toe-licking queer in the John who slithered across the floor like a lizard, his enormous cock sliding along under his belly.
He turned and headed back the way he'd come. Alexis would be along when he'd be along. He was probably still in school, maybe checking out cocks in the shower room. Sandy didn't have time to wait. He needed to score, and to score fast-it would put his mind at ease. Time later to come back up here and look for Alexis.
He was down in the middle of the hustling area, ready to take up his post near a street corner he'd staked a claim on over the last few days, when the cops came. They came in a half-dozen black-and-white squad cars, two cops to a car, and they pulled up in loading zones and in front of fire hydrants, and they got out of their cars, and Sandy could see that they meant business. Two of them had surrounded a boy half a block down, and Sandy could see that the kid was trying to act cool, but that he wasn't succeeding too well. A few hustlers left their posts, crossed to the other side of the street, and went into stores.
A squad pulled up to the corner across the street from Sandy. Before the car door had even opened, Sandy dropped his skateboard and took off, hopping the curb in front of the squad as its doors opened and lunging past it down the sidewalk. One of the cops shouted something to him, but Sandy ignored him, pushing off with his foot and rolling along faster and faster until he was four blocks away. He cut around a corner, jumped off his board, and ran up the slightly inclined street. It wasn't until five minutes later when he was skating along the wide sidewalks of Market Street that he dared look back.
He'd escaped.
He went to the Greyhound Bus Depot, across from the post office. As he crossed Market Street to get there, a car-load of queers slowed as they passed him. The guys whistled at him and invited him for a ride. He sprinted behind a passing bus, escaping. Even if he'd been dead broke he wouldn't have climbed into the car with that group. He imagined fists up his ass.
One other hustler was leaning up against the bus depot, an older guy with a cigarette and acne and wearing a yellow tank top shirt. Sandy avoided his glance and took up a post at a safe distance from the guy. He set his skateboard down and sat on it, leaning his bare back up against the warm concrete of the building. The street didn't look too promising here-it wasn't that popular a hustling area- but it would have to serve for the time being. He didn't dare go back to Polk Street for at least a few hours. He was lucky now to be sitting out on the sidewalk instead of being held in a jail cell.
Rodney had told him all about what it was like to be dragged off to jail by the San Francisco police. No fun. And they'd find out without too much trouble that he was a runaway, and he'd be back in his stifling home by the next day. They'd caught Rodney more times than Sandy could remember, but Rodney had run away from home one final time and had been seen no more. Where he'd gone or what had happened to him nobody knew. He'd run away successfully eight months ago, good old Rodney had. Sandy thought he might be in New York or L.A., or maybe he'd somehow got out of the country. Maybe he was in Australia by now. he'd always talked about wanting to go to Australia.
Good old Rodney. If it hadn't been for Rodney, Sandy would have never had the guts to run away, would have known nothing about San Francisco or how to hustle. During Rodney's captive interims in Santa Barbara, he'd explained to Sandy all about hustling, all about San Francisco. He'd even drawn maps. Sandy had used the maps on his first day in San Francisco, unfolding them only a few yards away from where he was now sitting, and using them to guide him from the door of the Greyhound depot to the meat rack on Polk Street. Thanks to good old Rodney, Sandy hadn't had to stumble blindly down too many streets before he knew his way around this part of downtown San Francisco. And thanks to good old Rodney he'd looked like an experienced hustler right from the start. Rodney had taught him well.
He heard a click and looked up. A thin, middle-aged guy had just snapped his picture, using one of those fancy cameras with a huge lens. The guy wore a light-blue sportshirt that was unbuttoned to his navel, and Sandy could see large areas of dark-blue under the guy's arms where he was sweating. The man stepped to the side a few feet, squatted, and clicked another picture. People walking by on both sides of the street were turning their heads and watching. Sandy felt as if a hundred eyes were on him.
Hey, man, what's the idea?" He put his hand up to shield his face as the guy clicked off another picture. "Hey, man, cut it out."
The guy straightened up, grinning foolishly. He let the camera hang from the strap around his neck and raised both his hands, thumbs touching, so as to frame Sandy to his line of view like some movie director. "Wonderful. Yes, beautiful. A star is born. How'd you like to be in the movies, son?"
The guy was out of his mind. "No thanks, man."
"I'm serious." The guy raised his camera to click another picture.
Sandy raised his arm again to cover his face. "Hey, man, and I'm serious. Lay off!"
The camera clicked. "Whoops! That was an accident." The guy chuckled.
What was he, some kind of tourist clown? Sandy got up and leaned against the bus depot, one bare foot poised in readiness on his skateboard in case he wanted to make a fast exit from the scene. "Look man, why don't you take pictures of the buses or something?"
"A bus will never become a star," the man said, the camera in his left hand, a white handkerchief in his right as he wiped his sweaty brow. "Besides, what would a bus do with a modeling fee? What would a bus do with say seventy-five dollars?"
The guy wanted him to model. "How long?" Sandy asked. "And what all do I have to do?"
The guy came close, so close that the cold metal edge of the camera touched Sandy's flank and caused Sandy's skin there to prickle with goosebumps. "One hour. If we run over, you get another twenty for every extra fifteen minutes." The guy spoke in a half whisper. "And all you gotta do is play with yourself according to my directions."
It sounded too easy, too good to be real, but Sandy went along with the guy. If the guy was for real, Sandy would be rich in an hour.
The guy lived up near the Presidio, in fact, on the same street as the toad. As the guy pulled his car over to the curb, Sandy scanned the houses up and down the block. One of these places belonged to the toad, but Sandy couldn't be sure which one, they all looked so much alike. They got out of the car and the guy, who had introduced himself as Russ, went around to the trunk and opened it up. The trunk was full of photographic equipment. Russ pulled out a large portable movie camera, dropped his other camera inside, and slammed the trunk shut.
He looked at his watch. "Three-forty-five." He showed the digital watch to Sandy. "We've officially begun."
He took Sandy across the street where a stone wall several blocks long ran along the edge of the sidewalk and separated the military Presidio, which looked like an enormous wooded park, from civilian San Francisco. Sandy climbed to the top of a hill and rode his no
skateboard down the sidewalk while the guy filmed him. Then Sandy walked across the street and up to the door of the guy's house. Russ was still standing out on the sidewalk, filming him.
Up in the guy's apartment, which was a mess, the guy filmed Sandy settling back on the couch and reading a magazine. The guy had his camera on a tripod now, and two pro-fessional-lookling flood lights bathed Sandy like twin suns. He enjoyed the warmth of the flood lights, since the apartment was air-conditioned and cold.
Russ muttered while he filmed. "Beautiful, beautiful! Oh, this is just wonderful! What a specimen! All right, darling, put down that mag and pick up any one of those flesh magazines you see lying around. Any one will do."
Sandy reached for the top magazine on the end-table next to him. It was called Lovers, and on the cover was a picture of two naked young men in a passionate embrace and kissing each other. Their cocks, pressed together, were sticking out from their joined loins. A clear pearl of fuck-lube hung from the tip of one of the cocks. Sandy opened the magazine and began paging through it. His own cock, which had been half hard since Russ had begun filming him out on the sidwalk, now stiffened achingly in the confines of his tight jeans. He reached down into his pants and adjusted his big prick.
"Oh, wonderful, marvelous! Does that
m
magazine turn you on, darling?"
"Not especially," Sandy said, pulling his hand out of his jeans. "You got any with girls?"
Russ giggled. "I'm afraid not. I'm not into girls, if you know what I mean."
Sandy paged through the magazine while Russ continued filming him. The same two guys were pictured all through the magazine. In the first pages they were dressed and necking. As the magazine went along, they took off their clothes, pawed at each other's cocks and asses, blew each other and fucked each other. They weren't bad-looking guys, and they actually looked like they might be in love with each other. The expressions on their faces made them appear crazy about each other, as if they had forgotten the photographer's camera and had really gotten into making love. A picture of the blond guy on his back with the dark-haired guy bridged over him and fucking him-the top man's shoulders were hooked under the blond's knees-brought back the memory of last night. This was the way Mike had fucked Sandy. Sandy closed his eyes for a moment, reliving the scene, trying to recapture the wonderful feeling of getting fucked my Mike.
"Oh, darling, you're a natural," Russ said. "You don't even need a director. Oh, beautiful, beautiful!"
Sandy came out of his momentary revery to find the palm of his hand stroking firmly up and down his stiff cock. His cock was raging in his jeans, aching to be beat off. Sandy dropped the magazine and unsnapped his jeans. This was what Russ had brought him up here for-to jerk off in front of a camera. So why wait? Sandy hadn't jacked off in days, and he missed doing it. Now he was going to get paid for doing it.
He pushed the pants down his legs and kicked them off onto the cluttered floor. His cock pecked athis belly up above his navel.
"Oh my God, what a stud!" Russ said, a panting tone to his voice. "How big is it, darling?"
Sandy smiled, shaking his head. These queers all wanted to know how big it was. "Eight inches, measured on top."
"And at least ten inches measured on the bottom side," Russ said. "What a luscious-looking hunk of boy-meat! Oh, darling, if I have a heart-attack, call me an ambulance."
Sandy laughed. Russ was all right. He propped his feet up on the coffee table in front of him and spread his legs. He was slumped back against the couch, his big balls dangling between his legs, his cock throbbing against his belly. This was getting to be great fun, and he was getting paid seventy-five bucks for doing it. Far out!
Russ lowered the tripod. The camera lens was about level with Sandy's chest now. He rolled the tripod backward slightly on its wheels. "Marvelous feet. So big, the toes so wide spread, beautifully muscled. You must be a beach boy, a surfer maybe."
"Yeah," Sandy said. He clasped his hands behind his neck and stretched, arching his back and making the muscles of his frontal torso dance. He did it intentionally. He was getting off on showing himself off to Russ and the camera. His cock pointed at the ceiling, quivering. His prick felt enormous. He contracted some muscles in his loins, making the big rod flex.
Russ stepped away from the camera, letting it run by itself, and he pulled his cock out of his trousers. He stepped enough forward into the glare of the flood lights for Sandy to see his seven-inch man-cock. He went down on his knees and sat back on his heels, beating his cock while he watched Sandy.
"You're marvelous," he said. "Just marvelous. Oh, I could just watch you all day. So sexy. Wiggle your cock again."
Sandy wiggled his prick without touching it, using his loin muscles.
"Oh, Jesus Christ, just like a dog's tail!" Russ's hand was a blur on his cock.
Sandy made his cock flex rhythmically, made his prick quiver. His cock was achingly hard, the veins bloated, the prick head cleanly defined and nearly popping off the cock shaft. Sandy felt his balls roll in their tight-stretched sac. He shoved his fingers down under his balls, arched up so Russ and the camera could see his perineum, then twisted his middle lefthand finger up his asshole. He gave Russ a pouting, seductive look.
Russ spurted all over the place. Cum shot out of his cock and pelted the magazines on the floor. Cum fell on his pants. The skinny man's eyes looked glazed, but he kept them trained on Sandy's cock and ass while he spurted. His body shivered with the spasms of his orgasm. He let out a low, pained moan.
Sandy jack-knifed his legs so Russ could see all of his ass and his finger fucking in and out of his asshole. With his knees pulled in to his shoulders, he grabbed his cock and slowly stroked his prick, gazing into the camera and licking his lips seductively. He felt sexy as hell. He'd never done anything like this before, but, Christ, it sure turned him on. He pointed the toes of both his feet, rolled his head against the back of the couch, moaned to himself as he masturbated his big cock and finger-fucked his tingling asshole.
Russ took out a handkerchief and milked the residual cum from his piss tube into it. Then he wiped the gobs of white cum off his black trousers. His cock hung half-hard against the black material.
"Baby, just keep it up," he said. "I'm not gonna tell you how to do it, 'cause it already looks like you know how. Just enjoy yourself."
The camera clicked on, the sound of it like a melody over the throbbing drone of the air-conditioner in the background. The flood
lights bathed Sandy in a delicious warmth. He stretched in the warm light, luxuriated under it, stroked his big cock and reamed out his ass. He closed his eyes and moaned softly to himself. His balls felt as if they were turning over and over. He wiggled and crossed his toes, spread his legs as wide as he could in their jack-knifed position, pointed his toes hard and formed a pretty arch with both his feet.
"Sexy boy," Russ said. "Hot chicken darling."
Sandy opened his eyes, squinting against the light to see Russ snatch up his discarded blue-jeans and press their crotch to his nose. Russ's cock was hard again, and he was beating it furiously.
"Perfume of young nuts," Russ whispered. He inhaled again and again, his eyes rolling. "I'll give you a hundred for these, stud."
"I don't know man."
"One-fifty."
"I'll think about it, man."
"You're the most beautiful boy I've ever photographed," Russ said. "And you're so goddamned sexy. Oh, my darling angel!" He dropped the pants, arched up, and spurted his second load of cum higher and farther than his first. His wads of whitish cum splatted against magazines on the coffee table. His body jerked with each liquid explosion. The alkaline scent of cum filled the air, and Sandy inhaled it as if it were some aromatic mist.
Sandy watched Russ shoot, fascinated by
the way the man's body jerked with each spasm and by the way his cock seemed to have swelled enormously for the orgasm. He watched the gobs of cum hurl through the air and plop down. He found himself licking his lips, not so much to be sexy and seductive for the eye of the camera, but because his mouth was watering, because he felt hunger for the man's cum. He remembered the taste of Mike's cum. He remembered that kid in Room 305, remembered the way the kid had held a dripping cum-filled hand up to Sandy's lips and the way he had lapped up the cum. The kid's cum had been sweeter than Mike's, less salty, probably because the kid was hardly more than pubescent. It followed logically that older guys would have saltier cum than young kids.
Sandy's middle finger twirled and fucked in his asshole. His finger seemed to be somebody else's finger now, because it was acting automatically, almost free of Sandy's conscious will. His middle finger prodded and filed and kneaded his swollen prostate gland, causing tight prickling sensations to gnaw through his loins and his balls and through the core of his cock. He felt the sensations in his nipples, felt them in his fingers and toes*
"Ohh, man, feels so good," he muttered. "I'm gonna shoot pretty soon, man. I'm gonna blow my wad. Shit, man, ooh, feels good." His words were as much for his own benefit as to stimulate Russ. When he talked like this, he felt even sexier. His cock felt as long and thick as a forearm in his pumping hand. His swollen cock-veins rippled under his palm and fingers. He beat his prick harder, feeling his balls flop up and down heavily down below.
Russ was leaning forward, watching Sandy beat off from as close a range as he could without his head getting into the frame of the camera's eye. His cock was stiff in his fist again, and he was beating off frantically, his breathing heavy. Despite the air-conditioning, sweat was running on his deeply flushed face. "Beat that big mother, baby. Make that big mother shoot. Oh, baby, beat off that hot cock. I wanna see that boy-cum squirt. Oh yeah, yeahhhhh!"
"Get ready," Sandy gasped. "I'm gonna blow any second now. Ohhh, it feels good, feels so damn good!"
Some fuck-lube had leaked out of his cock now and his hand was slippery, making a squishing sound as he masturbated. His hand gripped his cock so hard that his cockhead looked like it would explode. His loins swelled inside with a million tightening sex-knots. His asshole was on fire. He jabbed his prostate gland again and again and again.
"Yeaahhhh!" Sandy moaned. "Oh, yeahhh!" He heard the camera ticking away like a time bomb, heard the sexy throbbings of the air-conditioner's drone, felt the heat of the flood lights dancing all over him and penetrating his body in a zillion places. He drilled his finger into his prostate gland, trying to burst it as if it were a waterballoon. His right hand nearly skinned his cock. His prickhead seemed to swell to the size of a fist. His legs shot forward, his heels bracing against the magazines on the coffee table. His long body arched up, quivering like a sprung bow, the jism jetting through his cock like scalding-hot water and spurting three feet above his arched body.
"Ahhhhhhh! A www w w! Mannnnnnn!" The jism pelted down on him like hot rain. Arrows of electricity shot through his asshole, through his cock, up his spine, down his legs, through his toes. His quivering toes clutched at the magazine, gouging and crumpling their glossy covers. His loins jerked up and down, gripped with orgasm as if by a pair of strong, shaking hands. He arched up high, shooting again and again and again. Cum was everywhere. He was half crying, half laughing. It felt so goddamn good! "Ahhh, ohhh, mannnn!"
CHAPTER EIGHT
He left Russ's place after dark, dressed in nothing but a pair of short cutoffs with small holes worn in the ass. Russ had finally offered him two-hundred for his jeans, and he couldn't turn it down. Now he had two-hundred-seventy-five dollars in twenties, tens, and five crammed into the right front pocket of the loin-strangling cutoffs. The shorts were at least two sizes too small for him, had belonged to some kid Russ had filmed during the summer. Russ had shown Sandy a jack-off film of the kid before giving him the cutoffs to replace his sold jeans. The kid vaguely resembled that kid at the party last night, and his cutoffs still had the scent of his balls on
them after all these months, in addition to a few cum stains.
Russ had a whole collection of jeans and shorts, of underwear and jock-straps-clothing that had at one time belonged to boys who had modeled for him. Russ kept each article of clothing in a separate plastic bag so as to preserve the aroma of each boy in his clothing for as long as possible. Now Sandy's old jeans would go into one of those bags. It was crazy.
Sandy smiled to himself as he jumped off his skateboard to walk up the hill past Lafayette Park. That Russ was some crazy dude-not a bad guy, though. He'd fed Sandy his first good meal in days, and now Sandy's belly bulged slightly over the super-tight cutoffs. Russ was such a nice guy that Sandy was going to do him a favor. As soon as he'd bought himself a decent new pair of jeans he was going to return these cutoffs to Russ. The shorts would have the ball-scent of two boys on them when he returned them, but he didn't think Russ would mind that. He imagined Russ jacking off as he sniffed the crotch of the cutoffs. Some queers had crazy ways of getting their rocks off, but Sandy was starting to understand queers a little bit better now. Crazy, but he had a hard-on now from wearing this other kid's cutoffs. He liked the idea that the material hugging his own balls now had once hugged the balls of another kid.
He was halfway past the park now and he was aware of dark shapes cruising through the
bushes up above. He began to trot, a warm breeze toying with his hair. It was a beautiful, star-filled night. It seemed that nothing bad could happen on a night like this, but he wasn't going to take any chances by staying too long around this park. It looked like there were a hundred queers up there cruising around, and once they got his scent, or an eyeful of his near nakedness, there was no telling what might happen. He thought of himself as a young tomcat trotting past a compound patrolled by a hundred Doberman pinschers.
At the top of the hill he jumped on his board and started a roaring slalom toward Polk Street. He let out a whoop halfway down the hill, then laughed to himself. He was rich again, and feeling pretty good. Russ had given him wine-two glassfuls of it. He wanted to find Alexis to tell him about all that had happened since yesterday.
Polk Street was swarming with people in short-sleeve shirts. The street was a circus-hustlers and queers and straight couples, cars cruising bumper-to-bumper, the scents from a dozen restaurants mingled with the smells of sweat and car exhaust. People were laughing, shouting at each other, whistling. Sandy looked for Alexis in the usual spot, but Alexis's post was occupied by a red-haired punk with a safety pin in his left earlobe. The punk gave Sandy a once-over, then ignored him. Sandy headed down the street. He could come back later and check again for Alexis. Alexis had to turn up eventually.
The queers went into hysteria as Sandy made his way down the sidewalk, crotch thrust forward, ass wiggling. He padded along slowly, letting them appreciate him. He was beginning to realize just how sexy and good looking he was. He glanced at himself from time to time in the passing store windows. He was handsome, he was pretty, he was cute. He had a beautiful body and a big cock, and he was worth every penny any queer had ever paid him. It was time that he started charging more for the use of his body. Hustlers like him didn't come along every day, and, from the comments he was hearing all around him, he knew that the queers thought so too.
He was down on lower Polk now. The crowd was thinning here as the restaurants and stores petered out. The city hall and civic center were only a few blocks ahead. It was time to swing back up the street. Maybe he'd catch Alexis on this trip up.
He was a block up the street on his return trip when a giddy queer in a leather jacket hooked his right arm. The giggling queer breathed beer on him.
"Hey, man," the queer said. "I've been watching you, and I like what I see."
Sandy disengaged his arm from the queer's. "Sorry man, but I don't think you can pay my price."
The queer put his hand on Sandy's lower
back, wedged his fingers under the edge of Sandy's cutoffs. "Don't be too sure about that, beautiful."
Sandy side-stepped away from the guy. "See ya, man." He really wasn't in the mood for this now. He'd scored big with Russ, and now he just wanted to see Alexis.
The queer caught him from behind, tugging at his shorts. "Hey, baby, wait."
Sandy slowed down only to avoid getting his shorts ripped off. "Come on, man, lay off."
The queer was still smiling and giddy. Sandy noticed that the guy was naked under his leather jacket.
"Let me give you a blow job, baby. Fifty bucks."
Sandy laughed. "How about a-hundred-and-fifty?"
The guy looked stunned for a split second, his painted-on smile wrinkling just barely. Then he was all smiles again. "Shit, make it two hundred. You're worth it."
"Christ!" Sandy muttered, the word coming out unintentionally. Two hundred bucks for a blow job? There must be something wrong with this guy's mind. "All right, man, where you gonna do it?"
The queer led him down a side street and up an alley. The orangish glow from a streetlight crept only a short distance up the alley. The queer took him to a dark area between two huge garbage bins. The smell of food and the clatter of dishes from the rear of a nearby
building, and Sandy tried to figure out which restaurant they were standing behind. He un-snapped his shorts, wanting to get this blow job over with as soon as possible. He didn't like this situation, didn't like this place.
"Take 'em off," the queer said. "I wanna see all of you."
The tiny shorts slid down Sandy's legs and he stepped out of them. His cock stood up, twitching, he'd never felt so naked in his life, out here in an alley in downtown San Francisco. He bent down and placed his skateboard, upside-down, on top of his shorts. He suddenly remembered the wad of bills in his right-hand pocket. He straightened up, one foot on the overturned skateboard.
"Okay, man, blow me."
The queer smiled, his smile less drunken now and slightly conniving. "When I'm ready, man. For two hundred, I'm calling the shots." He pulled off his jacket, revealing a hairy chest and a sweaty torso. He reminded Sandy a little bit of Mike, although he wasn't half as muscular. His gaze crawled all over Sandy.
Sandy crossed his arms, not because he was cold, but because it gave him a very slight feeling of security. He suddenly wished he'd never come along with this guy. He was tempted to pick up his shorts and leave, but he had a feeling that the queer would raise hell. Besides, it wasn't everyday that he got two-hundred dollars for letting somebody suck his prick.
The queer unzipped his jeans and hauled out his cock. His prick was a big floppy thing, half-hard, uncircumcised, smaller than Mike's cock, but even half-hard his prick was already bigger than Sandy's was at full erection. The guy managed to haul out his balls too, and now he stood there with his hands on his hips, his set of oversized fuck organs bulging out of his fly. The guy looked Sandy straight in the eyes, his silly smile transforming to a sneer.
"All right, queer, on your knees."
Sandy heard the guy, but it took time for the guy's words to make any sense. "Hey, man, what-"
"On your knees, sissy!" The guy's fingernails sank into Sandy's shoulders.
"Christ!" Sandy sank to his knees, writhing. The guy's thumbs gouged the tender flesh just above Sandy's collarbone. Tears of pain blurred his vision.
The guy's hands slipped up to Sandy's ears, nearly tearing them off. "Cock-sucking little bitch!"
Sandy was moaning, on the very edge of bawling. "Please, man."
"Shut up, faggot, before I break your scrawny neck." The guy spoke in low, teeth-clenched tones. "Eat that cock, you little bastard!"
The guy's prick, hard now, the burning cock head peeking like a shiny ripe plum from the half-encasing foreskin, rammed brutally at Sandy's lips, bruising them against his front teeth.
"Eat that dick or I'll kill you!" The guy pulled on Sandy's ears, stretching them what seemed like a foot away from his head.
Sandy started to bawl. His head felt as if it were a thousand degrees hot. The tears poured out of his eyes and seemed to sizzle on his cheeks. His moan of agony and terror was rammed back down his throat by the man's cock. He choked, clutching at the man's legs. His head and lungs felt as if they would explode.
The guy let go of his ears and had him by the hair now. He yanked his cock out of Sandy's mouth, then rammed it back in, slamming his hairy lower abdomen at Sandy's nose, choking Sandy again.
Sandy's nose ran with both blood and snot. His spit gushed out over the man's hairy balls. He gagged on the man's sweaty, uncut cock.
"Faggot! Faggot!" the man mumbled, almost chanting the word. "Think you're hot stuff, don't you, little sissy girl? Come down here and wiggle your smelly little butt and think that somebody should kiss it." His fingers clawed at Sandy's scalp. He fucked hi cock in and out.
Sandy's throat ached, burned, felt as if it were being torn. Blood oozed froma split in his upper lip. His jaw seemed to have dislocated. The guy's huge cock fucked in and out, as cruel and murderous as a torpedo.
The man arched backwards, clutching Sandy's head as if it were a jack-off toy while he slammed his muscular loins at Sandy's face. "Like it, faggot boy? Enjoying it? This is what all you faggots want, ain't it-a real man to fuck your sissy face. Ain't it, faggot, ain't it?"
Sandy clung to the man's legs to prevent himself from hanging. His neck was stretched out long. His body was flapping around like a rag doll. He continued to choke, but he found that if he strained for air each time the man pulled back, he could get enough oxygen to keep from blacking out.
The man fucked his cock in to the hilt, gyrating his ass and scouring Sandy's lips and nose with his wiry groin. The man's cock was stuffed halfway down the length of Sandy's throat. Sandy could feel the man's prick throbbing, could feel its arteries twitching.
"Eat that hot meat," the man muttered. "Give it a good blow job or I'll snap you in half and stuff you in one of these trash bins." He pulled his cock back a few inches.
Sandy conctracted his throat muscles, sucked, used his tongue on the big cock. Out of the few cocks he'd had in his mouth, this was the first uncircumcised cock he'd ever tasted. As he bobbed his head over the man's cock, working with his tongue, trying to bring the man off as quickly as possible, he was conscious of the man's foreskin slipping back and forth over the swollen prickhead. The foreskin was meaty, elastic, rubbery. Sandy wanted to bite it, to stretch it. He imagined himself per-m
forming a circumcision on the man with his sharp front teeth. "Lick it, queer boy. That's it, yeah. Get yeah, you're a head-sucking bitch slut, ain't you faggot boy?" He tightened his hold on Sandy's head, pressing his thumbs in hard at the temples.
A billion flashing stars filled Sandy's head, he thought for sure he was going to black out. it was as if a hot poker were being rammed through his skull. He started to bite into the man's cock, and the pressure of the man's thumbs eased.
"Watch it, faggot! Careful with those teeth, unless you wanna hear every last one of 'em clicking on the concrete after I knock 'em outa your head."
Sandy wedged his tongue between the man's cockhead and his foreskin. The flesh in there was sizzling. He wiggled his tongue, working it back and forth and from side to side. The rubbery foreskin stretched, and Sandy began to work his tongue around and around the cockhead.
The man raised up and down on his toes. "Maaaannnn, ahhhh! You suck better than my old lady. Ohhh, Jeeesus, ooooh!"
Sandy felt vibrations shooting through the big cock, felt the entire hard prick begin to throb rhythmically. He pistoned his tongue at the sensitive underside of the throbbing prick-head. He bobbed his head, sucked, even
moaned as if he thought this were the best tasting cock he'd ever had in his mouth.
The man wiggled his ass, fucked his cock in and out between Sandy's lips. "Ahhh, ahhh ahhhh, yeah, suck that meat!" He rammed his cock down Sandy's throat. His balls swelled and contracted against Sandy's chin. "Ohhh shit! Goddamn! Ahhhhhhhhh!" His hot thick cum exploded down Sandy's throat "Eat it, you faggot bastard!"
Sandy gagged on the explosive spurts of man-cum. The taste and aroma flooded his senses. It was as if somebody had shoved a vial of smelling salts under his nose. The huge cock jerked in his mouth like a rattlesnake, darted at his tonsils, shot venom at them. The man's cum was thick and gummy, hot and slick. The hot cum-wads slid down his throat like oysters.
"Yeah, eat that cum, eat that cum!" The man fucked away at Sandy's throat until his cum stopped spurting and simply oozed from his piss-slit. He hauled his cock out of Sandy's mouth, deflated slightly and dripping with cum and spit, and he slammed his prick back and forth across Sandy's face. "Dirty little queer. I oughta beat the shit outa you." He slammed Sandy across the face with his open hand, and Sandy went rolling on the cracked, gritty concrete.
Sandy curled up into a ball. His skin burned, skinned from the concrete. His head throbbed, dizzy, filled with flashes of black light. He tasted blood, sweat, snot. He wanted
to die. After a few seconds he dared to look up at the man.
His vision was all blurry, but he could make out the man zipping up his jeans and putting his leather jacket back on. Sandy reached out, feeling for his shorts. He touched the wheel of his skateboard, found his shorts and pulled them toward him.
The guy's boot ground down onto his hand. "Gimme those, you faggot bastard. Since you like to show off your ass so much, now you can show it all off." He hooked his boot toe under Sandy's shorts and flipped them up in the air, swinging down his hand to nab them, "I'll drop these smelly things in some trash can."
"Please, mister-"
"Shut up or I'll dance on your sissy face." The man rolled Sandy's shorts into a ball, then unrolled them. He reached into a pocket. His hand came back out with a wad of bills. He dropped the shorts, his mouth hanging open as he peeled apart the bills. "Holy shit!" He chuckled, shoving the bills into the right front pocket of his jeans. He was grinning, looking almost drunk again. He shook his head and wheeled away from Sandy, leaving the shorts behind. "See ya 'round, faggot."
A brush-fire of rage swept through Sandy. That was his money. The man had raped him, beat him, and was now robbing him. He was on his feet with the skateboard in his hand before the man had taken two steps. He lunged
at the man, skateboard raised over his head, and brought it down on the man's head. In the split second before the skateboard cracked across the guy's skull, Sandy realized what he was doing and tried to stop the board. The hesitation was enough to save the man's skull.
The man went down, dazed, and Sandy stared down at him, dazed himself because of his own sudden violence. The man struggled to his feet, rubbing his head and blinking. He bared his teeth.
"I'm gonna kill you, faggot, and then I'm gonna cut off your balls." He took one step toward Sandy, and Sandy screamed louder than he'd ever screamed in his life.
At the same time that he was screaming, Sandy waved the skateboard back and forth over his head and backed toward the wall. The man kept coming, his face contorted with pure hatred.
"I'm gonna kill you, faggot."
A door about thirty feet up the alley swung open. Light beamed out into the alley, carrying with it the sound of clattering dishes. "What in the hell's going on out there?" A fat man in a white apron stepped out into the alley.
"What is it?" came a voice from inside.
"Jesus Christ, Ray, call the cops."
The man in the leather jacket spun away and ran. Within seconds he was a loping silhouette against the orange glow at the end of the alley. The thudding sounds of his boots echoed off
the walls of the buildings, then were gone.
The fat man in the apron was coming toward Sandy, a dish-towel dangling from his hand. "What's going on, boy? Where're your clothes?"
Sandy found his shorts. "I'm all right," he said.
"Stay right there, boy, the cops'll be here in a minute."
Sandy slipped out from between the garbage bins and backed away from the man. "I'm all right, man."
Another man stepped out into the alley. "What is it, Al?"
"Don't know. One of 'em ran off. This one here's naked as a jaybird. Looks banged up, but he's got a hard-on like a billy club."
"Faggots," the other man said. "Just another faggot cat-fight."
The two men came toward him. Sandy wheeled and ran.
"Hey, kid, get back here. Jesus Christ, boy, come back."
A siren whined close by, getting closer. Sandy flew.
CHAPTER NINE
He ran three blocks before he dipped into another alley and pulled on his shorts. His lungs burned. His heart hammered so loudly in his head that its thundering was all that he could hear. His bladder was full, his prick aching because he had to piss so bad, but he didn't have time to piss, wouldn't be able to piss anyway, as tense as he was, with his prick so fucking hard.
Hugging his skateboard, he stepped out onto the sidewalk again. The street was fairly dark. He looked up and down it, wondering how many people had seen him running along naked and with a big hard-on. A few people strolled along on both sides of the street, but
none of them were gawking in his direction. Some people must have spotted him, but either they hadn't stayed around or they didn't give a damn about a naked boy running through downtown San Francisco on a hot autumn evening. He thanked those nameless people for leaving him alone as he trotted on his toes up the street.
A few minutes later he found himself on Larkin Street. It was busy and well-lit, but it didn't have anywhere near the human and auto traffic of Polk Street, which was just a block down now. Sandy trotted up Larkin, keeping his eyes on the sidewalk. He didn't want to catch anybody's eye. He must look a mess, with the blood drying on his face.
Several blocks up the hill, he turned down toward Polk. He'd check out Alexis's post once, and if Alexis wasn't there, to hell with it -he'd go back to his hotel and lock himself in and hide. He needed to score, needed at least a few bucks in his pocket, but he couldn't stand the thought of going off with some loony who might beat the shit out of him again, who might even kill him.. He was afraid now, more afraid than he'd been even last night at the party when they'd had him bound and gagged. He turned the corner onto Polk, and there stood Alexis, surrounded by a group of guys, both queers and hustlers.
Sandy stood fifty feet away from the group, unable to move. He needed to talk to Alexis, but he would never be able to walk into the
middle of that group. He was next to stark naked, he was bruised, scraped, bloody. He stared at the babbling, laughing group of boys and men and felt utterly alone. One of the guys glanced toward him. Sandy turned and ran. He was around the corner and nearly back up to Larkin Street when he heard his name being called. Without looking back, he sat down on the sidewalk where he stood and buried his face against his pulled-up knees. He was sobbing, leaking tears down his thighs, when Alexis hunkered down next to him and stroked his head.
"Sandy, Sandy. Hey, man, it's all right."
* * *
The hot water gushed down over his face, ran in sheets down his chest and belly, caressed his balls and washed down his legs. His nipples were hard, jutting out like tiny hot pokers between Alexis' rolling fingers and thumbs. Alexis bit him all over the neck and shoulders, stroked up and down the backs of his calves with electrically charged toenails. Alexis churned his smooth belly against Sandy's ass, rubbed his own hard nipples against Sandy's upper back. Alexis' cock, an inch longer than Sandy's, throbbed in the heart of his asshole. Sandy's mouth gaped as he laughed, the steaming shower water gushing in, then rushing out over his uptilted chin like a waterfall.
Alexis bear-hugged him, fucking his big cock in and out of Sandy's throbbing asshole. "Do you love me?"
Sandy said, "I love you." It sounded ridiculous to one part of his mind, but to all the rest of him it sounded like the truth. His balls swelled and rolled as he said the words, and his cock flexed, pointing straight up at the ceiling above the bathtub. He had never felt so warm and secure in his life-and so loved.
"Will you marry me?" Alexis said, his cock maintaining its wonderful fucking rhythm in Sandy's asshole. He licked the back of Sandy's neck, sending shivers down Sandy's spine.
"Yeah," Sandy said, "I'll marry you." He giggled. He'd never in his life felt so free and loose. He felt as bubbly as a freshly opened bottle of champagne. "Just keep fucking me. Mmmmmm, it feels so good." He writhed in Alexis' arms, twisting his head against Alexis' face. The big cock felt like a hot, slippery snake inside him. He wasn't even touching his own cock, but he thought that he would come anyway. The cock fucking in his asshole would be enough to bring him off. "Fuck me, Alexis. Oh, man, fuck me!"
Alexis slid his hands down Sandy's flanks and gripped Sandy's narrow hips. Jerking with his arms and thrusting with his loins, he fucked his cock faster and faster in Sandy's asshole, smacking his tight young belly repeatedly against Sandy's wiggling ass.
"Oh God, Alexis, oh Jesus!" Sandy's loins
blazed inside. He panted, his heart banging nearly as hard as it had when he'd run away from that alley an hour ago. The cops had been closing in on him then. Now he felt totally free. He moaned, gyrating his ass against Alexis' lower belly.
Alexis slowed his fucking. He was panting as wildly as was Sandy. "Man, you've got a tight ass. I'm glad that guy didn't get his dong into it and rip it up."
"He pounded my face up bad enough."
Alexis reached up with one hand and turned Sandy's head to the left. He licked Sandy's throbbing cheek bruise. He nibbled down Sandy's face, brushing his spongy, silky lips against Sandy's lips. "You're still the most beautiful boy I've ever seen."
Sandy groaned, sucking at Alexis' lips. Electrical tingles swirled through Sandy's lips, spread through his face. He shoved his tongue into Alexis' mouth. The thrills shot straight down to his cock. He grabbed his prick and pumped, crushing the maddening prickling sensations through his cock, milking his prickshaft. Their mouths were open, pressed together, tongues lapping at each other's tonsils, teeth clicking together electrically.
"I can't stand this," Sandy said. "I've gotta come."
Alexis' blue eyes rolled back. Sandy could tell he was in ecstasy. "Let's cream," Alexis said. "Oh, man, let's cream." He ground his belly at Sandy's ass. His fingers clawed at the
lean flesh of Sandy's hips.
Sandy cupped his balls with his left hand and continued to pump his cock with his right. He still felt that he could come without touching himself, but that would take a little longer, and he wanted to come now-with Alexis.
"Tell me when you're gonna shoot," he whispered, his head still turned far to the left. He gnawed at Alexis' handsome, beardless jaw.
"Okay," Alexis said, humping rhythmically, his eyes still rolled back as if he were in a trance. "Shoot your jizz into my hand, okay? I wanna eat it."
"Okay," Sandy said. His cock felt three feet long as he slipped his hand up and down its length. The swollen veins of the prickshaft rippled under his fingers. His balls throbbed in his left hand, bloated to the size of chicken eggs. His prostate gland was a burning, aching knot in his asshole, sliced at by Alexis' cock. His cum bubbled inside him, like lava about to erupt from a volcano.
Alexis' cock swelled flexed. "Ohhhh, Sandy, here it comes! Come with me, baby! Alexis fucked his cock in to the hilt. The huge prick quivered, swelling even larger.
Sandy jerked his hand furiously, making his prickskin sizzle. He felt the jism uncoil in his balls, felt the tight springs of sex-tension begin to unwind through his loins. His cock flexed hard, every cell of his prick tingling and on
fire. He felt a rope of scalding jism jet through his pisstube. At the same moment, he felt Alexis explode into his asshole.
"Ahhhhh!" they cried out together. "Awwwww!"
Sandy cupped his hand in front of his cock, and it was filled instantly with a load of hot, sticky jism. As he fired again and again, his cum overflowed his hand and dripped with heavy splats onto the floor of the tub. He writhed in Alexis' arms, his loins jerking, his legs rubbery, his entire body flashing with prickles. The cum pumped through his cock, burst out again and again into his hand.
"Man, I love this feeling!" Alexis whispered, fucking his cock in and out with quick, short jerks. His cum spurted out quick and forcefully, filling Sandy's asshole.
"Me too," Sandy moaned. "Oh, man, me too!" He twisted his head, dizzy with the sensations snaking through his spine.
They stopped shooting almost simultaneously, their cocks jerking in unison with the after-shocks of their orgasms. Alexis pulled his dripping, twitching cock out of Sandy's asshole, and Sandy turned to face him, feeling the hot water slide down his back now instead of his front. Sandy offered his cum-dripping hand to Alexis. Alexis smiled and lowered his lips to Sandy's palm, sucking up the warm cum. Sandy thought Alexis was beautiful.
They kissed, arms around each other, their
rubbery cocks throbbing between their lean bellies. Alexis' lips were sticky with Sandy's cum, and Sandy thrust his tongue into Alexis' mouth, tasting more of his cum in Alexis' throat. He realized that part of himself was inside Alexis now, realized that- Alexis would digest his rich cum and that soon he would be a part of Alexis. He hugged Alexis tighter.
"I love you," he said.
They kissed again, Alexis muttering, "I love you," in return. "Let's get out of here before we shrivel up like prunes," Alexis said at last.
After drying off, Alexis showed Sandy around the apartment. Naked, holding hands, they moved from room to room, their cocks wagging in front of them at forty-five-degree angles. They passed in front of a hallway mirror and paused to look at themselves. Sandy was stunned at how much they looked alike now that they were naked: Same size, same muscle shape, same smooth skin. They were almost twins-except for Sandy's brown eyes and Alexis' blue ones. Sandy's tan was darker, and Alexis' blond hair was a few inches shorter than Sandy's, but these things were hardly noticeable.
They kissed in front of the mirror, then walked hand-in-hand into Alexis' bedroom. Leaving the door open behind them, they flopped down on the powder-blue bedspread and propped themselves up with pillows behind their backs. Their legs stretched out long in front of them, they draped arms
around each other's shoulders, Sandy's right arm going around Alexis, and Alexis' left arm going around Sandy. They turned their faces toward each other and kissed, tongues darting between lips. Their big cocks pounded their abdomens.
Sandy sighed. "So this is what it's like to be queer. Wish I'd known a long time ago."
Alexis chuckled, stroking the toes of his left foot up and down Sandy's right instep. "I'm glad you found out now."
"Me too, Alexis. Say, I really like your name." He reached over and held Alexis' enormous cock.
Alexis immediately grabbed Sandy's cock. He pecked Sandy on the lips. "Thanks. It was my mother's idea. It's kind of a gay name. I think my mother knew I was gay right from the start. I was born with a hard-on, she says."
Sandy laughed.
"It's true. That's what she says."
Sandy didn't believe it, but he didn't want to get into an argument over it. The last thing he ever wanted to do was to argue with Alexis. "Can I suck your cock?"
"Mmmmm," Alexis said, sliding down until he was lying on the bed. "That's a question you don't ever have to ask me. You can suck my cock until we both die and go to hell, and I won't mind."
Sandy slid down beside Alexis and licked at his cock. "Can I suck your cock in hell too?"
Alexis grinned and sighed. His cock flexed
up, then slapped heavily back down onto his belly. "Eat it before I go crazy, Sandy. Oh, man, munch that big meat!"
Sandy gripped the nine-inch cock at its base and wrapped his mouth around the swollen prickhead. Alexis' cock tasted delicious. Sandy drove his tongue a quarter-inch up the open piss-slit.
Alexis arched up. "Ohhh, mannn!"
Sandy, lying on his side, his head pillowed on Alexis' hard abdomen, sucked as much of the big cock into his mouth as he could, which was just a little over half. He licked at the swollen prickhead, savoring the feeling and the flavor. At the same time, he reached down and began to jerk off his own cock. The tactile sensations in Sandy's mouth from sucking on Alexis' cock shot straight down to Sandy's prick. It was as if he'd been doing this all his life-sucking cock and jerking off-but it had sure taken a long time for Sandy to discover that he liked to do it.
Alexis stroked Sandy's head, wound his fingers in Sandy's fast-drying blond hair. "You're my lover now," Alexis said. "Aren't you my lover now?"
"Mmmm," Sandy said, his mouth full of thick cock.
"Yeah," Alexis said. "I knew you'd be my lover the first time I laid eyes on you. You're beautiful, and you're mine-right?"
"Mmmm." I'm yours, Sandy thought, and you're mine. He munched loudly on Alexis'
big hot prick while he slowly pumped his own cock. He was in no hurry to come, and he could sense that Alexis wasn't in any hurry to come either. This was a long, lazy suck that could go on forever. Sandy squirmed on the soft bed-spread, feeling totally uninhibited, feeling sexier and more comfortable than he'd ever felt with another person.
"Let's sixty-nine," Alexis said. "I wanna taste your meat."
Sandy slid up on top of Alexis before they shifted to the sixty-nine position. He lay on top of the beautiful boy, humping gently at him while they kissed. "I love you."
"I love you," Alexis said, "and I wanna suck your big dick."
In the sixty-nine position, lying on their sides, they hugged each other, pressing chests to abdomens. Sandy reveled in the feeling of Alexis' hot, silky skin against his own. The only body-hairs either boy had were the blond sprigs of hair at the bases of their cocks and in their armpits.
Alexis drove his face between Sandy's legs and sucked at the tender skin just under Sandy's balls. Sandy's thighs clamped around Alexis's head. Sandy gasped, shoving his nose into Alexis' asscrack and sucking at the same tender spot under Alexis' balls. He felt Alexis' balls roll against his chin. Alexis' ballsac felt unbelievably soft and smooth.
"Suck ass," Alexis said, his voice muffled between Sandy's clamped thighs. "Let's eat ass."
A thrill shot through Sandy. He plowed up Alexis' asscrack with his nose until his lips were sucking at Alexis' asspucker. Between Sandy's legs, Alexis was performing the same trick. Noses buried in each other's asscleft, they sucked each other's ass puckers. Their tongues probed the tight puckers, then wiggled inside.
Sandy thought he was going to go insane. The feeling was unlike anything he'd ever imagined. It was almost as if he was sucking on and licking out his own asshole. The sensations shot up his ass at the same time that they swirled through his tongue. He sucked hard, tasting boy-ass and wanting to taste more. He had never dreamed that ass could taste so good. Alexis tasted sweet, not salty and cummy like that kid had tasted last night. Sandy didn't care if he ever stopped eating this delicious ass.
It was minutes before Alexis pulled his tongue out of Sandy's asshole. "Oh, man, you're good!"
"You too," Sandy said, his lips pasty with ass-flavored saliva. "You've got a great ass, Alexis."
"You too, man. Now I wanna taste your cock."
At that moment the door closed behind them-at least that's what Sandy thought he heard. He yanked out from between Alexis' legs and almost threw his neck out of place
trying to crane his head for a look. The door was closed. Sandy pushed away, but Alexis held him.
"Hey, man, cool it. What's the matter?"
"Somebody shut the door, man. That's what's the matter."
Alexis chuckled. "Just my mom. She just got home from work."
"Just your mom?" Sandy struggled to get away.
Alexis wrestled with him. "Hey, cool it, man. Nothing to worry about. I told you before-she's cool."
"Christ, but she saw us, she heard us!" Sandy imagined the woman standing in the doorway watching them suck on each other's ass and tell each other how good each tasted. He pictured the woman looking like his own mother, or like his stepmother. Christ, it was incredible. "Let me go."
Alexis let him go, and Sandy sat up, looking toward the closed door. He could hear water running down the hallway.
"So, what're you going to do now?" Alexis asked. "She's getting ready for bed, but if you want to meet her now, I'll introduce you."
"Christ," Sandy said, his head still spinning inside. "She saw us doing it!"
Alexis slid over the edge of the bed and put his arm around Sandy. "She does it herself- with men. She's walked in accidentally while I've been getting fucked more times than I can remember. She doesn't care. If anything, she's
happy for me. I told you, she says I was born with a hard-on."
Sandy was beginning to believe that Alexis' mother had actually said that. He looked at Alexis, speechless.
Alexis kissed his nose. "Look, buddy, if you're going to be my lover and live here with me you'll have to get over being so jumpy."
"Live here with you? Are you out of your mind?"
"You said we were lovers."
"Yeah, but-" You can't be serious, Sandy thought to himself as he was speaking. But another part of himself was hoping more than anything that Alexis was being serious, was hoping more than anything that such a situation would be possible.
"Don't you wanna be my lover?"
Christ, was Alexis for real? When he talked about being lovers was he actually being serious?
"Yeah, I wanna be your lover," Sandy said, starting to beat his cock because just talking like this was getting him so excited he could hardly stand it.
Alexis sat there gazing into Sandy's eyes. He started to beat his own cock. His serious face relaxed into one of his dazzling smiles. "Then we're lovers," Alexis said. "From now on this is our bed, and this is our apartment."
"But what about your mother?"
Alexis looked mischievous. "You'll like her, and I know she'll like you."
"Look, if this is all a joke, tell me now, because if I find out later-"
"No joke," Alexis said, pulling Sandy down to the bed.
"What about your dad?"
"Told you before-I never had a dad. I'm a bastard-a cock-sucking bastard. How about that?"
Sandy wrapped himself around Alexis, his heart banging, warm tears in his eyes. "I like it."
They kissed, their long cocks sliding against each other between them. Sandy felt like jumping out of his skin.
"Hey, you cock-sucking bastard," Sandy said, "lets suck some cock."
They giggled as they stretched out on their sides next to each other in the sixty-nine position. They stuffed each other's rampant cock into their mouths, munching loudly as they pulled their bodies close together and stroked each other's smooth skin with their free hands.
You wonderful boy, Sandy thought, flopping his tongue around and around Alexis' bloated prickhead. You're mine now. I've been looking for you all my life, and I don't even know it. I want to eat you. I want to be you. And I want you to be me.
They moaned in unison, their heads bobbing, their lithe young bodies writhing. The bedspread felt like Warm, fuzzy skin under Sandy. A warm breeze flowed in through the m
window, bathing them both. They were both sweating now, and their boy-scents were beginning to radiate from them. Sandy rubbed his hand all around Alexis' smooth nuts, getting it all wet with Alexis' ball-sweat. He rubbed the ball-sweat on his face, under his nose, up into his nostrils. The aroma of young-male intoxicated him. He sighed loudly, sucking, slurping, munching Alexis' big cock while Alexis did the same with his cock. Alexis was a damn good cocksucker. Sandy could feel his balls pull up tight with each deft manipulation of Alexis' lips and tongue.
Their heads bobbed faster and faster. They both moaned and groaned and sighed so loudly that Sandy knew for certain now that Alexis had been telling the truth about his mother. It really was cool with her that her son was in here sucking another boy's cock. They were making so much noise that even in the bathroom or in her bedroom down the hall she couldn't help but to hear them. And if this whole thing wasn't cool with her, then the noise they were making was enough to drive her screaming into this room to demand that they stop. But she was leaving them alone.
Sandy jerked his hips faster, fucking his cock in and out of Alexis' hot, sucking mouth. The faster he fucked, the faster Alexis fucked. Their cocks fucked deeper into each other's throat. Sandy was astounded at how easily Alexis' cock was fucking in his own throat now. The silky little sprig of blond hair at the
base of Alexis' cock began to tickle Sandy's lower lip. Sandy inhaled the pleasant boyish aroma of Alexis' balls. All nine inches of Alexis' cock fucked into Sandy's face now, and Alexis' baby-smooth balls throbbed against Sandy's nose.
Sandy fucked his own cock deep into his lover's throat, churning his ass, grinding his own silky groin-hairs at Alexis' lower lip and his balls at Alexis' nose. He felt a contraction in his balls. Thrills swirled through his cock. Hot cum shot through his pisstube. He heard Alexis choking, then swallowing and gurgling. Sandy's eyes rolled back with pleasure.
Sandy was oozing the last of his cum into Alexis' throat when Alexis exploded down his own throat. For a moment he gagged, his throat unready for the forceful spurts. But then his throat adjusted, and he sucked greedily, swallowing throatful after throatful of hot, sweet cum. He imagined the cum flooding his stomach, digesting, becoming a part of his own flesh. He and Alexis would becomed a little bit of each other now, the same flesh-brothers.
