GIVING ME LIP
By Zachyboy
(M/b, oral, anal)

I've always had a thing for those little lippy boys. You know the ones I
mean. The ones who are just a little too mouthy for their own good. I
probably find them so sexy because many years ago, I used to be one
myself. A little too wise. A little too street-smart. Call it smart-ass,
back-talk, attitude, lip, whatever you want. But man, when I was a kid and
I talked to men that way, I could see those guys get hard. You could see
their big dicks fill out in their pants.

And it's the same way for me now. I get so fucking hot when a boy talks
back to me. It makes me want to fuck him on the spot, for the same reason
other guys I've talked to want to fuck him on the spot. We get talked-to
like that, we just want to fuck the manners back into him. Am I right,
guys? Yeah. I'm right.

So, Badger's this kid I met who definitely fit the bill. He was a little
street hustler, couldn't have been more than 13, if that. But man, did he
have a mouth on him. Right from the start. And he's still got it to this
day. We're still together, but that's a different story.

This is the story of how we met, and how I fucked him the first time,
trying to fuck the lip out of him. I lost that bet, of course, but it's
been fun to keep trying, night after night, going on five years now. I'm
gonna marry that lippy fucker. But like I said, that's a different story.

# # # # # # # # # #

I called him Badger when I met him. Always have, still do. He's got a real
name he likes me to use when I'm fucking him, but daylight hours? He's
still my Badger. No great mystery where the nickname came from. When I met
him the first time, fresh off the street, he was wearing a blue t-shirt
over a grey, long-sleeved roll-up. It was layered and warm. Smart for life
on the street.

His t-shirt, blue and gold, said "Carmont Bayou College – Screaming
Badgers – It's Badger-Mania Every Week!" And fuck if that didn't turn
out to be true. Anyway, I called him Badger right from the start. God, how
I loved him. His cocky stance, his mop of dirty-blonde hair, brown eyes
that could pierce through metal, lips so full and lickable you could
bone-up just seeing them from across the room.  Chin, neck, jawline, Adam's
apple, collar bone. He was a fucking erection-trigger from top to
bottom. Seriously. Pick one feature I've mentioned above. I could stare at
it long enough and get hard. And man, if you've ever gotten hard looking at
a kid's Adam's apple before, you know what kind of heat you're in. When it
gets to that point, you know you're gonna fuck him.

# # # # # # # # # #

"Hey, mister, I'm hungry. Will you take me across the street and get me
something to eat?"

I was just coming out of the Paramount, our Performing Arts Center here in
Seattle. 9th and Pine. Last night of "Book of Mormon." I had season
tickets. I saw all the shows. It was a good one.

Now there was a street boy in front of me on the sidewalk asking for
food. 12 maybe? 13?

He looked relatively clean. A little dusty, maybe. Road worn, but clean.

There was a McDonald's across the street. I was hungry too. What the fuck.

Plus he was drop-dead fucking gorgeous. And when the looking-price of kid
like that is just a Big Mac and fries, you'd be stupid to turn him
down. Sex or not, you want to buy that kid some dinner just to sit across
the table and look at him, trying not to rub your dick in public while you
watch him eat his #2 combo.

"Sure, Badger. Let's go get something to eat. Why not?"

# # # # # # # # # #

Watching him eat was pure erotica and he knew it. For a hungry street kid
(and honestly, he looked pretty well-fed, but who can tell?), he took his
time and ate his meal to the full effect, looking up at me, and hardly
saying anything.

I have to tell you, it was a cock-rocking adventure just to watch this kid
eat french fries. He didn't take them out of the box, three, four, five at
a time like other kids, cramming them hand-to-mouth like an
addiction. Nope. This kid ate them calmly, individually, purposefully, one
at a time, no rush, dipping them in ketchup, bringing them to his beautiful
lips, his tiny tongue, his perfect teeth, sucking just a little,
tantalizing, before he bit. If he was a street kid, he hadn't been one for
long. He was rough around the edges, but he was just too damn pretty and
delicate to have been out here for too many years.

The little divot between his nose and upper lip – the philtrum, it's
called (his was so sexy, I had to look up the word just so I knew what to
call it) – was perfect, pronounced and erotic. Watching him eat, I
wanted to kiss that little groove, that little alley between his nose and
lips. Lick it. Taste it. I could almost imagine one small drop of my cum
resting on it perfectly. Nestled into that perfect little indentation.

"What?" he asked suddenly, mid-bite.

"What do you mean, what?" I replied.

"You're staring at my mouth. Do I have ketchup or something?" He was
totally innocence for a split second. Lost the tough-guy act. Dabbed at the
aforementioned philtrum. Looked at his finger.

"No. You're good," I told him. "You just have a pretty mouth. Sorry."

"Oh boy, here we go," he said, rolling his eyes, and the tough-guy look was
back. "Another `pretty mouth' guy."

I laughed. He went back to his meal.

Every bite of his burger was erotic, intentional performance art. I got
hard watching him eat his hamburger. I'm not kidding, hard. His eyes rarely
left mine. Searching me out. Looking for a mark or a move, I didn't
know. But he knew I liked watching him eat this way, so he intentionally
continued.

A Big Mac's messy, especially for a little mouth, but he didn't have any
problems at all. Just took his time and slowly bit, slowly chewed. The few
times he did get special sauce on his upper lip, he just slowly and
carefully wiped it off with a napkin. And oh yeah. Don't think the "special
sauce" reference was lost on me for a minute. Not for a fucking blink.

His fingers were slender and narrow. Beautiful long boy fingers, at that
borderline age where they've lost the pudgy baby-fat of childhood, but they
haven't yet reached the thickeness of a man's yet. Long, lean boy fingers,
narrow and slim and perfect. I imagined them wrapped around my dick, or wet
with spit and exploration, poking greedily into his curious, upturned ass
for the first time. When he licked them off as he ate, keeping them clean,
I wanted to join him. I wanted to suck one of those perfect fingers into my
mouth and pretend it had already been in his ass. I wanted to suck one
clean. If it had been in his hole that day, all the better.

He ate so tidily you'd almost be tempted to call him dainty. But, fuck,
this was not a dainty kid. I could tell by the hardness in his eyes, he'd
been around the block a couple times. He probably WAS hungry. But there was
too much dignity in him to wolf down a meal in front of a stranger,
especially one who was clearly checking out his goods. This could go
somewhere, he probably figured, if he played his cards right and kept my
attention up in all the right areas, which, believe me, he was doing just
fine at. Elevation acheieved.

When he drank his soda, head bent down over the cup, red, wet lips around
the tip of the straw, eyes looking up at me piercing and pretty, it was
over right there. This kid was going to get anything he wanted from
me. Food, money, a week in my bed, anything.

If you've never gotten hard watching a kid eat sensuously, I highly
recommend you spend more time at the golden arches. 19 times out of 20, all
you'll see are messy little kids wolfing down happy meals like a pack of
monkeys on crack. But that 20th time, you're gonna get a kid like
Badger. And he's going to eat it pretty and slow for you. And that's gonna
make that thing between your legs plump up and super-size.

# # # # # # # # # #

"So, I don't have anywhere else to stay tonight," he shrugged. "So, if you
take me home and let me crash at your place, I'll let you fuck me."

"Whoa there, Badger," I said to him. "Who said anything about fucking?"

"Why not? You're gay, right?"

"What makes you think I'm gay?"

"Jesus. What makes me think you're not? You just came out of a show at the
Paramount without a date. And you're sitting here with me right now, which
means you're not rushing home to fuck your wife. Trust me, you're gay."

I laughed.

"Pretty good detective work."

"Yeah," he said, taking another small bite and swallowing before he
talked. "When I need money, I panhandle at the mall where the moms hang
out. Moms give money. When I need a guy to fuck me for a place to stay, I
wait until the show's out at the Paramount and I pick a gay guy."

"Never fails, huh?"

"Fuck no. You fags flock to those musicals like wolves chasing meat."

I laughed again in spite of myself. "Guilty as charged, kid. Gay as the
breeze."

"So. You wanna fuck me or not?" he asked, finishing up and pushing the tray
away. "If we're gonna do it, we gotta do it fast. I'm tired."

I eyed him up and down. He was definitely worth fucking.

"Come on," I said. "You can sleep at my house tonight, no
obligations. We'll talk about the fucking later."

"Yeah, right" he said, with a tired, knowing voice. "Sure we will."

# # # # # # # # # #

I watched his ass as he walked to my car with me. It was tight, flat,
smooth, thin. It was going to be tight in there, without a doubt. It was a
boyish ass, sleek and slender. Make two fists and press them together. It
was no bigger than that. For a minute, ridiculously, I thought of fucking
Peter Pan, only this kid wasn't from Neverland. No leaves and loincloth on
this one. Just dusty jeans, worn but not dirty. Size 8 skinny-fit, I'd find
out later. Like I said, he was little and wiry for 13. In the right light
he could have passed for 10.

He was two steps ahead of me. He took the lead and I let him. I stared at
the back of his neck as he walked in front of me. In the parking lot street
lights I saw the fine, downy hair around his neck...just the finest,
transparent white-dust of hair reflected in the high-pressure mercury bulbs
and the moon.

"I feel you staring at my ass back there," he said.

"Actually, I'm looking at your neck right now," I told him honestly.

"Whatever gets you going," he shrugged. "But you might want to look a
little lower. Last I heard, you can't fuck a neck."

Damn, he was sassy.

Keep it up, kid, I thought to myself.

Keep talking to me like that and you can bet you're gonna get fucked
somewhere.

# # # # # # # # # #

Driving home, he was humming to the radio. Tapping on the window
glass. Some song I didn't know.

"Your dick his hard," he said, gesturing down to my pants. Even in the dark
car interior it was obvious.

"Sorry. Guess I have to piss."

"Yeah. All over ME, probably."

"Guys do that to you?"

He looked at me with droll amusement. A patronizing look, like I'd just
asked him if a bear shits in the woods.

"What do YOU think?" he said. "They piss on me, I piss on them. Not my
thing, but for the right amount of money or the right place to stay,
whatever. Piss washes off."

"Damn, Badger. You're incorrigible. You know what that word means?"

"No, but I'm guessing it means you want your dick in my ass."

"What makes you so sure I want to fuck you? I mean, no offense, you're a
pretty boy and all, but what if I don't fuck kids?"

This time, he did roll his eyes at me. Broadly. I may have fooled some
people with that speech, but not Badger. "Been there, done that" was
practically tattooed on this kid's asshole.

"I'm a homeless kid living on the street, and you're a gay guy bringing me
home," he said simply. "Of course you want to fuck me. Everybody wants to
fuck me."

"You sound pretty confident."

"Look, about 30 guys took me home in the past few months. And 29 fucked
me. The other guy just wanted to get naked and hold me all night and look
at pictures of his son from 20 years ago and cry. So, yeah, unless you want
to hold me all night and cry, we're probably gonna fuck."

"Well, then I guess we're gonna fuck. Your math makes sense to me."

# # # # # # # # # #

He looked around my house as I dropped my keys in the dish by the door.

"Cool," he said, throwing down his backpack and looking around. "You got
X-Box?"

"I got Wii," I told him.

"Wii-U?" he asked.

"No, just Wii. Regular."

"Jesus, how old ARE you?"

I threw him the controller and I headed for the kitchen. Vodka, meet
freezer. Freezer, meet vodka. I needed a fucking drink.

# # # # # # # # # #

"Hey, Badger, you want something to eat? Ice cream or something?"

I was one-and-a-half double vodkas into feeling a whole lot better about
this, while he was in the next room playing Mario Kart, a game he'd
pronounced ancient, but suitable.

"Yeah, I bet you'd like to get out the ice cream, pervert. Rub it all up
and down my balls or something."

"First of all," I said, looking down at his too-tight jeans. "It doesn't
even look like you have any balls. How old are you, kid? 10?"

"14," he answered. "Almost 15."

"No fucking way on earth," I answered.

"What do you mean no fucking way? Way fucking way."

"Shit, Badger, you don't even have pubes yet."

"How do you know I don't have pubes, pervert?"

"I'm looking at your upper lip right now and you don't even have peach fuzz
yet. Nada. Not even a little. Believe me, Badger, you don't have pubes."

"Well, fuck you. Who needs pubes? All the guys' pubes I go down on just
stink anyway."

"No arguments there," I said. "I keep a trim bush."

He looked up. Almost looked intrigued for a minute. I continued.

"Besides, I like a hairless little mound in my face. You don't need pubes
to impress me when I'm sucking your little bone."

"Who says I got a little bone?" he challenged. "Maybe it's fucking huge."

"Trust me," I told him, "it's little."

He flipped me off. Didn't even look up from the game.

"Come on," I prodded. "What are you? 12? 13 at the most?"

He shot me an icy glare and picked another game track.

"I guess you'll just have to suck my little bone and find out."

"Fucker," he added under his breath. And suddenly I was ten times harder.

# # # # # # # # # #

This shit went on for quite some time.

This parry. This dance.

He watched the screen and I watched him.

Fuck, he was hot. I wanted to fuck him. My dick was already leaking pre-cum
and we were heading into "urgent need" territory.

"So, Badger," I prodded him. "How does this work? You want to go to my
bedroom? You want to do it here?"

He dropped the controller and looked at me. Bored.

"Aren't you supposed to ask me if I want to take a shower first?" he asked.

"Do you WANT to take a shower?"

"No. Not really."

"Then don't take a shower."

"Okay. Most guys think I should take a shower first. Like I'm living on the
street, so I stink or something. I don't stink. I bathe."

"Fine. I never said you stink. You smell fine."

"Because the shower thing. Well, it's stupid. But guys expect it. Like it's
in the rules. I read Nifty too, you know. All the street kids are supposed
to take showers before the guys fuck them. Kind of insulting actually. Like
we're all rolling in piss all day."

"Duly noted," I said. "No shower required."

"Plus, all you're going to do is stick your cock up the place where I shit
from anyway, so really, how fucking clean do you need it to be?"

"Jesus, you've got a lip on you, Badger."

"Yeah," he sighed, "I can't help it. It just comes out. One guy called me
"intriguing." He said I was "too perfect to touch."

"He's got a point."

"Of course, his dick was up my ass when he said it, so there goes that
theory."

"Yep," I agreed. "There goes that theory."

# # # # # # # # # #

We went to my bedroom. He stripped down without saying anything, and so did
I.

He folded his clothes and set them on my desk.

Fucking folded his clothes, if you can believe that. Like he didn't want to
intrude or mess the place up. Incredible.

Tommy Hilfiger boxer briefs. Clean, but a fairly significant tear in the
waistband. I wonder who did it, I thought. Probably not him. Still, all in
all, not bad underwear for a boy living on the street.

But frankly, who gives a shit about his boxers.

Because, fuck, he was beautiful.

His dick dangled down about the size of my thumb. Clean, hairless, pink and
shiny.

And I was right. Not a pubic hair to be seen.

It was a mouth-watering little cock. The kind you wanted to write a story
about. And, well, turns out I did.

He saw me checking it out and, frankly, just looked kind of tired.

"I guess you'll be getting to know this thing a lot better tonight," he
shrugged.

"Chances are good," I told him, offering my hand and leading him toward the
bed.

His two tiny nipples were like dimes. He had narrow hips. Abs, but no
muscles. He was a ribby, skinny boy. Narrow hips. No biceps. Smooth creamy
skin. Long, pretty fingers. An innie belly-button I wanted to french kiss
on the spot.

We got up in the bed together. Sat Indian-style and looked at each other
naked. He looked down at my cock, which was chubbing.

"Not bad for a loser who sits around Broadway shows on a Friday night," he
said.

"Enough lip, Badger," I sighed. I grabbed him by the head and pulled him
down onto my cock. "How about giving me a some throat instead."

"Mmph, nngglll..." he said.

I think that's "mouthful of dick" for "yes."

# # # # # # # # # #

"How about you let me suck that little baby fuckstick of yours, Badger?"

"You think you can take it all?" he sneered.

"Put it this way, kid. Nobody's every going to mistake that roll of
Lifesavers you got down there for a cucumber. Spread your legs."

"Hey, I'm a growing boy," he shrugged, complying. "I'll get there."

"Yeah, well, don't grow too fast," I told him, going down on his hairless
package. "I like them this size."

# # # # # # # # # #

I sucked on his little cock and made him all kinds of happy.

He came in my mouth and I ate it all up. Sweet little boy jizz. Watery,
sweet and clear, like corn syrup. Sticky sweet boy cum.

I fingered his hole while he groaned and clenched my head and shot off in
my mouth. Shoved my fuck finger hard against his little walnut
prostate. Got him nice and loose.

Freed my own cock from my shorts and let it drip on the sheets.

I swallowed every drop.

"I guess you CAN cum, smart-mouth," I said to him, squeezing his
balls. Mashing them just a little too hard.

"Told you, fucker. I've got it, and all the ladies want it."

"Right," I said. "They're lined up outside, wet and ready for you."

He stretched. Lay back. Ran his finger across the top of his own little
dick head. Caught the last drop of boy cum on his finger and ate it
himself.

"Well I guess they're gonna just have to wait," he said, looking me
straight in the eye. He sucked a finger and stuck it in his ass. "They're
gonna have to wait all night, aren't they?"

"Oh, fuck yeah, Badger." I growled, grabbing his hand roughly, pulling his
finger out of his ass and sucking the stink off, in one forceful move. His
eyes lit up when I did.  "I'm gonna make those little girls wait a long
time for you, kiddo. A long time."

He giggled. "Kiss me some more, bitch." he said.

"I'll show you who's the bitch tonight, kid."

He giggled again. "I sure as fuck hope so."

I kissed him again. He could taste his own ass and cum on my tongue.

# # # # # # # # # #

"So, you gonna eat my ass before you fuck me, or you just gonna stick it
in?"

"Still deciding," I shrugged. "You didn't say please."

"Fuck you," he mumbled. And then, two seconds later in a small voice,
"Please."

"Ha! What's that smart-ass?"

"Please," he said. "Do it. Lick me."

"You need a little licking before you take a little dicking, huh?"

"Oh, yeah," he said, fingering his own ass and getting up
doggie-style. "You got manners, right? Well, be good. Be polite. Lick my
shithole."

I smacked his ass and he giggled.

"A little juice before you pry him loose," I said, moving into the
zone. Pink and perfect. Shiny as a penny. And God, that heavenly
smell. Like nutmeg. Like smoked almonds.

"See?" he said, backing his ass into my face. "Nice and clean. No shower
needed."

"Maybe a tongue bath, though," I said. "Spread your legs and I'll give you
one."

"Mmmm," he moaned. "Now THAT I could use."

# # # # # # # # # #

"You know what I like about you?" he said while my tongue was up his ass.

"Other than this?" I asked, coming up for air.

"Nah," he said. "That's really good. Keep going."

"I intend to," I said, slipping a finger into his wet chute. He
tensed. Shivered. Pushed back against it. I felt his ass lips squeezing
around my fat fuck finger. Nibbling on it.

"I talk smart to a lot of guys," he said. "It's sort of my thing. It makes
them hard, they cum fast and they're done. Then I get to go to bed."

"Smart," I said, twisting my finger in his ass.

"Unngh," he moaned. "It's how I do it. I talk smart and they get hard."

He moaned. Pushed back on my finger some more.

"But you talk smart right back to me," he said. "And that makes ME hard."

"See?" he said, shoving his little cock up toward my face and proving it to
me.

"Hard again," he hinted.

I didn't do anything.

"REALLY hard," he begged.

"Well," I said, moving up and licking his tight ball sack on the way. "I
guess we'll have to do something about that, then."

"Oh yeah," he sighed as I engulfed him with my mouth. He was just as sweet
the second time. "Do something about me..."

I sucked his perfect, hard babycock. He ground against me, trying to throat
me deep with that cute little fuck bump.

"Do it real good," he whispered, arching his back, grabbing my
ears. Grinding. Moaning.

13-tops, and he was skull-fucking me like a champ.

God bless those little lippy boys.

# # # # # # # # # #

"You're doing real good down there, pervert" he said. "I think I'm ready
for a fuck."

"You need some dick, huh?"

"Yeah, I need some dick."

"You got nothing smart to say about it?"

"No," he said, "nothing smart. I just need some dick."

Then he paused.

"I'm really ready," he said. "Really ready."

"Please," he said softly. "I'll be good. I'll be quiet. Just fuck me."

# # # # # # # # # #

I brought my dick up to his face and I showed it to him.

Rubbed my pre-cum across his lips.

Smeared him with dickstick.

His tongue came out. Licked his lips. Licked the top of my cock head. Took
it in his mouth and sucked it. Twirled his tongue around it and took it in
deep, like only a street boy could do, so well, so instantly. He cupped my
balls when he did it. Sucked his lean little finger and poked it up my ass.

"Unless you wanna eat a load," I warned him, "we better get this cock in
you right now."

He took his mouth off my dick and looked at it again.

"Jesus, that thing's big," he said, swallowing his spit. That's really
going in me?"

"Yeah, that's really going in you."

"Okay, but it's a hundred dollars each time you fuck me."

"Yeah?

"Yeah, fucker. A hundred dollars each time we fuck. How's that sound?"

"Sounds like you're gonna make about $600 tonight. Get your ass in the
air. Now."

That shut him up.

# # # # # # # # # #

He was ass-up, doggie-style on my bed when I fucked him for the first time
that night.

I slid my lubed cock into him slowly and he whimpered slightly and shivered
when it went in.

He was ma sweet ABF boy, my Already-Been-Fucked boy, and I knew he'd be
fine taking it all, and he did.

"Oh fuck," he whispered, as I bottomed out in his tight cunt. "Fuck, that's
big."

I slowly drew it back and pushed it fully forward again.

"Oh fuck," he grunted.

Drew it back. Pushed it forward.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck."

"You okay?"

"Yeah, just big."

"Okay, I'll go slow."

"No," he said, backing his ass into me. "You don't have to. Big is good."

I gave him some more.

"Oh fuck," he moaned. "That feels really good."

"You like this cock?" I asked him.

"Yeah," he said, no more smart-mouth left in him. "I like it."

"Tell me you like my cock."

"I like your cock."

"Mean it."

"I like your fucking cock, okay?" he whimpered. "It's good, all right? It's
good and I like it. I like how you fuck me with it, fucker. Please. Fuck me
more."

"Call me Daddy."

"Mmm, Daddy."

"Tell me you like how I fuck you."

"I love your cock, Daddy. I love you fucking me."

"You're my baby, aren't you?"

"Yeah."

"Say it."

"I'm your baby. Baby boy. Fuck my cunt, Daddy. Fuck my boy pussy."

I grabbed the back of his head. Pulled it up. Licked his neck. Sucked on
his ear.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck," he shivered. He was moaning now. Pushing back against
me. Twisting his hot ass on me. Gyrating. Wanting one more inch. Wanting
one more angle to twist and fill his hole. The smell of his sex rose up and
filled my senses. The smell of his sweet open ass. Earthy. Rich. Like
musk. Like molasses.

"Mmmph," he whimpered. Little high-pitched boy-sound. "Mmmm."

"Is it good, Badger?" I whispered softly.

"Jasey," he whimpered back. "My name is Jasey."

"Hey, baby," I whispered tenderly in his ear. "It's good to meet you,
Jasey. I'm going to cum in you now, baby. Is that okay?"

"Oh yeah," he whispered. "Just say my name."

"Gonna cum in you, Jasey. Gonna cum in you, baby."

"Just say my name," he begged softly, grinding back.

"Jasey," I whispered. He shivered. He moaned.

"Pretend you love me," he said softly. "Pretend you love me when you cum."

I slid it in and out of him, slowly and deeply.

"I love you, Jasey," I whispered in his ear. "I love you a lot."

"Daddy," he sighed.

"Good boy, I whispered. "Good boy, Jasey."

He whimpered and made little boy sounds.

"Love you, Daddy," he grunted.

"Love you, baby," I grunted, grinding him hard. "Good boy, Jasey. "Open
up. Open up your pussy, baby. Here comes Daddy's cum."

"Daddddeeeee," he moaned, as I pushed forward firmly, fucked it into him,
grabbed his hips, shot hard. Exploded. Saw stars. Filled his ass with cum.

"Unnnnngggghhh, FUCK," I groaned as I filled him with my load.

"So good," he whispered. "So full. So good."

"Fucking HOT," I growled, still shaking and shooting in him.

"Again," he whimpered. "I want it again."

# # # # # # # # # #

Hours later, I rolled him over. Twisted him around on my dick. Laid down
and sat him on top of me, still impaled. I had nothing left to shoot, but I
was still inside him.

Exhausted. Hanging on to the waking world by a thread. Cock raw, bedroom
reeking of sweat and sex.

"Fuck," he whispered again. "You're so big and hard in me."

"Kiss me, Badger."

"Jasey," he whispered again. "Just call me Jasey tonight? Okay?"

He looked like he wanted to cry.

Maybe he didn't want this to end. Maybe it didn't have to.

"Hey, baby. It's okay, Jase."

"Can I stay tonight?" he looked up innocently. Wide-eyed. Hopeful.

"You can stay lots of nights," I told him. "As many as you need."

He leaned down and we kissed. Sweet tongues tasting each other. Learning
each other. No more dirty words. No more smart mouth. That was nice.

And he never left. Not that night. Not any other. Never went back to the
street.

And I by day, he's still Badger.

But at night when we fuck, I call him Jasey. And sometimes he holds me
really tight and cries when I do. He says it makes him happy. Being treated
nice like that.  Being loved.

Having a home.

# # # # # # # # # #

"Well, that was intriguing and too perfect to touch," I told him after that
first fuck, flaring my dick inside him and squeezing out another drop or
two.

"Easy for you to say," he said. "You're not the one who's going to be
shitting out cum for the next two days."

I gave him a good thrust for emphasis.

"Wanna make it a week, smart-mouth?"

"Yeah," he smiled. "Let's make it a week."

"Let's make it more," I told him.

And I fucked him again.

And all these years later, he's still here, giving me lip.

Giving me love.

Which isn't unusual, really.

I've always had a thing for those little lippy boys.

# # # THE END # # #

Love,
Zachyboy
z.blake@mail.com