Message-ID: <63808asstr$1477897805@assm.asstr.org>
From: Hugh Banton <clover2209@yahoo.com>
Reply-To: Hugh Banton <clover2209@yahoo.com>
References: <623933269.590987.1477849249006.ref@mail.yahoo.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Giving Him a Jump
Lines: 312
Date: Mon, 31 Oct 2016 03:10:05 -0400
Path: assm.asstr.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

Hello, moderators,
Attached is my latest story, "Giving Him a Jump."
Many thanks!
A
<1st attachment, "Giving him a jump.txt" begin>

This is a work of fiction.  All persons are intended to be age 18 and
above.

   GIVING HIM A JUMP

   By anonymous.a

   Sooner or later, if you drive often enough, you will climb into your car
one morning, put the fob near the ignition, press the button and ...

   ...  nothing.

   You try it again.  Nothing.  Then again.  Maybe the battery in the fob
has gone dead.  The car still won't start.  You stare into the distance,
your brain frozen with indecision.  What the hell?  You start to think:
Maybe it's not the fob.  Maybe it's the car battery.  You turn on the
headlights.  They spring to life, then quickly fade to yellow and die
altogether.

   Shit.

   It's the car battery, the freaking car battery.

   So now what do you do?

   That depends on where you are.  If you're parked in your driveway you
start calling friends to give you a jump.  Except they all work during the
day, and can't take an hour off to help you with your car.  You knock on
your neighbors' doors but they're not home either.

   Shit, shit, shit.

   It's looking like a tow truck is your last option.  That'll be a hundred
bucks.  What a racket.  In your next life, buy a tow truck and work
banker's hours.  You'll be rich before you know it.

   I've found myself in that position and I'm sure it'll happen again,
which is why I added a set of jumper cables to the box of car repair tools
I keep in the trunk.  You never know when some poor stranded motorist will
need a jump, and besides: I like the karma I get from helping others.

   In fact just the other day those jumper cables paid dividends in a big,
big way.  I'm still grinning over the memories.  In fact, if I try hard
enough I can still taste them.

   I had friends visiting and we met for dinner at this out-of-the way
place in a quiet part of town.  I usually don't drink alcohol when I go out
because I don't want to risk an accident or a ticket, but these friends
insisted, so I had a beer with my meal.  Problem is, one beer usually leads
to two beers, then three.  I was able to get out of there before that
happened, but my taste buds had been activated, and they wanted more beer.
So I stopped at a convenience store to pick up a six-pack.

   The minute I got out of the car I was approached by a kid.  I was
instantly suspicious because this convenience store is a notorious hangout
for homeless guys wanting to bum money for alcohol and cigarettes.  I don't
mind helping people when they're down on their luck, but these guys made
the streets their lifestyle and I had little sympathy for them.

   My suspicions were unwarranted because as the kid got closer, I could
see he was wearing a vest with the store's logo on it.  He worked here.

   "Excuse me sir, I hate to bother you," he began, "but I wondered if you
could help me out.  I need a jump."

   Funny he chose that word.  I would love to have "jumped" him because he
was a luscious guy, about 5-11 or 6 feet tall, 150 pounds, a nice tan, with
brownish-blonde flyaway hair.  He looked like a young River Phoenix, down
to the cute button of a nose.  He didn't have much of an ass, at least what
I could tell through his baggy jeans, but the slight bulge in his crotch
suggested he was packing more than minimal equipment on the front side of
things.

   "Sir?"

   Oh God.  I must have been staring.  I shook my head to snap out of it,
then stammered to recover.  "Um, yeah.  Sure.  Where are you parked?"

   He nodded in the direction of the side of the building.  "Around back.
The manager won't let employees park up front.  He wants the spaces
reserved for customers, so I'm in the back there."

   I told him I'd head that way and he hurried off down the sidewalk.  I
checked him out as he walked away and saw that my earlier appraisal of his
ass had been mostly correct, although now that he was moving you could see
those skinny glutes pressing against the fabric of his jeans.  I enjoyed a
momentary mental image of my face pressed into his ass crack, my tongue
lapping against his hot hole, the hole itself pulsing as it opened and
closed, awaiting the entry of a finger ...  or something else.  I felt a
building pressure in my groin and let out a pent-up sigh.  The kid didn't
look underage but he was surely too young for me.  Even if he weren't, the
odds favored he was into girls.  I tried to tamp down my imagination and
get the car started.

   There was a narrow dirt track that led to an open area behind the store,
and sure enough, beneath an oak tree rested an aging Pontiac with the hood
up, the kid standing next to it.  He was fanning the battery and I wondered
why he was doing that, until I remembered sometimes batteries give off
fumes that can ignite if there's a spark.  More than one person has been
injured by an exploding car battery.  Thanks, kid.

   I pulled up next to the Pontiac and popped the hood on my Toyota.  I
left the engine running while I untangled the jumper cables from the box of
tools in the trunk.  I had to read the instructions again to make sure I
made the connections in the proper sequence - I can never remember which
way it goes.  Is it negative to negative and positive to ground, or the
other way around?  Anyway, I got the clamps hooked up to the battery
terminals - averting my eyes in case the battery decided to blow up anyway
- and told the kid to start his car.

   He got into the Pontiac and turned the key.  The starter turned over
grudgingly and then the engine roared to life.  He let out a small whoop of
pleasure and beat his hand against the steering wheel.

   I went to the door of his car and yelled, "Let it run a few minutes
before you try to drive it.  Might charge up the battery a bit."

   He nodded and started saying something, but I couldn't hear.  He saw
that and patted the passenger seat, so I went around and got into the car,
closing the door.  There.  It was much quieter now.

   "I really appreciate this.  I've needed a new battery for awhile, but
they're so damned expensive, you know?" he said, shaking his head.  "I
guess it's unavoidable now.  I'll have to head down to Wal-Mart or
AutoZone. Maybe I can get out of there with my ass intact."

   I nodded.  The question was, would he get out of this car with his ass
intact.  Because if I had anything to do with it he wouldn't.  The more I
saw of him the more attractive he became.  I found myself wanting to take
his hand into mine, slip my fingers between his and insert each one into my
mouth, slowly sucking on them until he relaxed to the point I could reach
behind his head and gently pull his lips to mine, kissing and caressing and
running my hand through his hair as I made the sounds one makes when
they're aroused beyond their ability to control themselves.

   "Is there something I can do to repay you?" I suddenly heard him say. 
He was looking at me with a strange expression, as if once again he had
caught me staring and didn't know why.

   Was there?  Of course there was.  But dared I say the words?

   "That depends," I answered cautiously.  "How old are you?"

   He looked very confused and more than a little suspicious.  "Eighteen.
But what does that have to do with anything?"

   Well, it had everything to do with everything if I were to ask my next
question, which I finally mustered the courage to open my mouth and speak
the words: "You could repay me by letting me go down on you.  How about
that?"

   A shocked silence settled over the Pontiac's interior.  All I could hear
was the engine idling.  The kid stared out the windshield at nothing in
particular, his mouth hanging slightly open, his bangs covering his
eyebrows.  My God he was beautiful.  I hoped he wouldn't say no.  I wanted
desperately to see what kind of cock was attached to that perfect face and
body.

   He cleared his throat.  In that velvety voice he said, "I appreciate
your help me but I don't know if I'm that grateful."

   "It's just a blowjob," I said, maybe a little too quickly.  "It's not
like we're getting married."

   His face wrinkled into an unhappy expression.  "Yeah, but you're a guy
and all.  I mean, I have a girlfriend.  I like the ladies."

   "That's fine.  You wouldn't be doing it for yourself.  You'd be doing it
for me, just like I'm jump-starting your battery for you."

   He frowned and sort of rocked his head from side to side, as if
acknowledging an uncomfortable truth, and I could see the ice cracking.  I
could see it.  His resolve was crumbling and he was going to do it.  He was
really going to do it.  My mouth started watering at the anticipation of
having that teen rod down my throat.

   I heard him whisper, "Jesus Christ" as he unsnapped his jeans and pulled
them down, along with his plaid boxers.  His dick flopped out and it was a
work of art, a slim, long tube of smooth flesh nestled in a bush of wiry
brown pubes, a pair of balls the size of ping-pong balls scrunched below
and to either side.

   "Just do it and get it over with," he said in a low voice.  "My
girlfriend is gonna kill me."

   "She'll never know," I said as I scooted over to the far left side of
the passenger seat and leaned over the center console.

   "Oh, she'll know," he said.  "She's a woman, and women always know."

   "Nah," I assured him, then leaned in and took that delicious wand of
flesh into my mouth.

   The taste was fleshy and not-quite pungent.  You could tell it had been
awhile since he'd had it out to pee because it was sticky with a layer of
sweat mixed with hormonal funk.  His bush smelled the same way as I sucked
his cock down my throat and buried my nose in his pubic hair, drawing from
him a small gasp of surprise and what I hoped was pleasure.  I let his cock
stay there a moment, then pulled back, using my tongue to massage it along
the way, then pushed back down again.

   His hand involuntarily found the back of my head and he began to push.
They always do that.  Even the super reluctant guys.  It's as if once the
blowjob commences, all thoughts of being converted to a homosexual retreat
as instinct surges and the response to pleasure takes over, driven by the
need to empty those balls.  And that's what kid did - pushed the back of my
head so that his cock sank deeper into my sucking mouth.  I inhaled deeply
from his pubes, drawing in his scent and letting it add to the flavor of
his flesh.  I felt his cock growing stiffer and longer.

   I pulled off his dick long enough to lap at his balls.  His scrotum was
covered with hair, as were his thighs.  I ran my hands through it, feeling
the bristly resistance and hearing the rustle as I rubbed his sticky inner
legs and returned my attention to his dick.

   I attacked the head, which was no wider than the shaft, and lapped up a
drop of dew that had formed at the tip.  It was sticky and coated my tongue
with a gooey layer of male essence that I quickly spread to his shaft as I
once again sank down on his cock, all the way to his balls.

   He had both hands on the back of my head and had started thrusting his
crotch into my face.  Smalls cries of "Ungh, ungh, ungh," slipped past his
lips as he tried to remain as quiet as possible.  Nobody could see us back
here, but you never knew when somebody might show up.

   I let him fuck my face as I sucked as much as I could.  He was tensing
and I knew he was not long from erupting in my mouth.  I had no intention
of letting a drop of his precious fluid escape, and he didn't offer any
kind of warning, nor did he hesitate.

   He simply raised his ass off the seat and pulled my face into his crotch
and blasted a giant, raging shot of 18-year-old sperm down my throat.  That
opened the floodgates, followed by two or three large spewings of cum that
threatened to spill out of my mouth.  I swallowed frantically and could
taste his late teen essence as it slid down my throat and into my stomach.
It was a sharp flavoring that reminded me of locker rooms and sweaty
underwear and that sexy, superheated odor that fills a room when your cock
has successfully performed its mission of pouring out your balls.  I buried
his still-twitching cock in my throat as he continued to shoot wads of cum
into me.  If he had buried his cock in a pussy and released that load, a
bundle of surprise and happiness would be waiting for him nine months from
then.  As it stood, I was surprised and happy enough for both of us.

   I sucked him dry, making sure there was no trace of sperm on his cock
head or shaft, and then I licked the sweat off his balls.  The inside of
the car smelled like a whorehouse, and the temperature had gone up so much
the windshield was starting to fog.

   I pulled off him, gave his cock a final kiss, then sat up and wiped my
lips.  But I couldn't wipe away the grin on my face.

   "That was fucking intense," he said, stuffing his unit back into his
boxers as he pulled up his jeans.  His hair hung down over his eyes and he
looked so gorgeous I could barely resist the urge to lean in for a kiss. 
The suck-off would have to suffice.

   We got out of the car.  I disconnected the jumper cables and put them
away as he dropped the hood on the Pontiac and latched it.  I did the same
on my Toyota.  He paused a moment, looking sheepish and embarrassed, then
shook my hand.

   "Well, thank you again, for the jump," he said.

   "Which one?" I winked as I got into my car.

   When he replied I had already closed the door, so he mouthed the word,
"Both."

   I could feel the karma rolling my way.  I swear I can still taste it.

   --

   If you enjoyed this story from anonymous.a, please visit his author's
page on Amazon at
https://www.amazon.com/anonymous.a/e/B01DIB9L3O/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0

   Most of his books are priced at 99 cents, but you'll get more than a
buck's worth of hot action!

   Remember, you don't need a Kindle device to read a Kindle story. 
Download the free app for your phone, tablet or PC.

   Anonymous.a is on twitter at @anonymous_sexie .

   He's also on tumblr at theanonymousa.tumblr.com .

   Email clover2209@yahoo.com

   The author wishes to make it known he does not want to receive
communication in any form regarding issues of underage individuals.  

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