Date: Sun, 30 Jul 2000 20:38:32 EDT
From: Bwstories8@aol.com
Subject: Boy For Hire - chapter 1

Legal Notice:
The following story contains descriptions of graphic sexual acts.
The story is a work of fiction and has no basis in reality.

Don't read this story if:
**You're not 18 or over,
**If it is illegal to read this type of material where you live,
**Or if you don't want to read about gay/bi people in love or having sex.

The author retains copyright to this story.  Placing this story on a
website or reproducing this story for distribution without the author's
permission is a violation of that copyright.  Legal action will be taken
against violators.

I wish to extend my thank you to Ed for his editorial assistance with this
chapter.

If you have enjoyed reading this story, you will find other stories by me
at http://members.tripod.de/wolfslair, in the 'Other Stories' section.

E-mail responses to the stories, story suggestions, or other 'constructive'
comments or advice may be sent to: bwstories8@aol.com.

             *    *     *     *     *     *     *     *

Boy For Hire - by BW  (Young-Friends).         Copyright 2000 by billwstories
Chapter 1 - The Final Straw                    February 2000

This was going to be the last time the bastard beat the crap out of me.
I've had it.  I'm not taking it any more.  He turned around to hit me again
and I took the offensive, kicking him squarely in the nuts.  He doubled
over in pain, a look of disbelief on his face, because I know that he never
thought I'd have the guts to defend myself.  As he bent over at the waist,
I brought my knee up forcefully under his chin and sent him sprawling on
the floor.  As soon as he hit, I stood over him and brought the heel of my
right foot down on his chest.  I heard a sharp crack as I did so.
Honestly, I hoped that I had just broken one of his ribs, maybe more, but I
didn't give a shit.  He deserved it.  Now, I squatted over his chest and
brought my right fist crashing into his jaw and then my left came smashing
into his cheek.  I was taking out all of my frustrations now, and I was
going to show this asshole no mercy.  I let loose all the years of pent up
rage, rage that longed to be vented, and I used this occasion to do just
that.  My fists flew so quickly that they were just a blur, striking any
part of his body that got in their way.  When my fists began to hurt from
pounding on his body, I stood up and gave him a couple of kicks for good
measure.

I stood there looking at his limp and battered form, and I wondered why I
had taken his abuse for so long.  Sure, he may have been my father and down
deep maybe I did still love him, but why did I let him kick the shit out of
me for so many years?  Why did I take his abuse without fighting back?
He'd come home, get royally drunk, and then find some reason to beat me
within an inch of my life.  He was a fucking alcoholic, animalistic bully
and I spent years believing that every beating he gave me was my fault.  I
tried to be good, better than any son could be, and nothing I did stopped
the beatings.  It was never good enough.  It took me all this time before I
finally realized that it wasn't me, I wasn't the one at fault here.  It was
the booze and his fucking disposition that created this hell on earth for
me and I wasn't going to take it any more.  At fourteen, Trevor Wiley was
declaring his independence in the strongest possible fashion.  I was going
to leave this pathetic excuse for a father behind and make a life for
myself.

I went upstairs, threw everything I had into a small duffle bag, and I left
the house.  I collected all the cash I had saved from my various jobs,
doing whatever I could to help the neighbors, walked by his still prone
form, and slammed the door as I left.  As I had walked past that son of a
bitch, I spat on him to add insult to the injury I had so forcefully heaped
upon him.  Now I stood alone in the night air, trying to decide where I
would go.  I had no relatives and only a few friends, but I knew that I had
to leave this small town and get as far away from everything as I could,
for now.  Butler, Georgia, was a very small town and news and rumors spread
quickly.  I knew that, once word got out that I beat up my old man, some of
the locals would turn on me.  Hell, the sheriff would most likely even
arrest me.  It didn't make any difference to them that he beat the hell out
of me; he was my father and he could discipline me any way he saw fit. I
knew that they would never accept self-defense as a legitimate excuse for
my striking him.  The only way they would have turned on him were if he had
actually beaten me to death.

Everyone in town knew he drank and that he drank to excess.  Dad was a
civilian employee at Ft. Benning, which was 30 or 40 miles west of here.
He rode to work in a car pool with three other locals who also worked
there.  He would constantly bitch to them about what a terrible kid I was
and how hard it was to keep me in line.  Word soon spread throughout town
that I was the devil's spawn and that my father would not 'spare the rod'
trying to make me an honest, upstanding member of the community.  Only a
few of the really close neighbors, whom I worked for, ever suspected that
his claims were unfounded.  Having no solid proof to the contrary, there
was little, if anything, they felt they could do to help me.

Walking down the dark road heading out of town, my mind went over all of
the beatings that I had suffered at his hands.  I remember that first time
like it happened only yesterday.  My mom was still alive then and I had
been out playing with some friends.  As usual, Dad came home from work and
started drinking heavily.  I was supposed to be home by 8:00, and when I
walked in five minutes late, he lit into me like I had just robbed a bank
or raped the girl next door.  I was only seven years old and I shook in
fear as he grabbed me and shook me like a rag doll.  I nearly pissed and
shit my pants, I was so scared, but he didn't let up.  The next thing I
knew, he threw me across the room and into the wall.  That knocked all the
air from my lungs and I slumped to the floor, but he wasn't finished.  He
came over, grabbed me by the arm, and dragged me to my room.  Once there,
he tossed me on the bed and ripped the clothes from my body.  Then he
pulled me back, making me bend over the end of the bed and, with my ass in
the air, he removed his belt.  He whipped me with that piece of leather for
the next fifteen minutes, until he literally dropped from exhaustion.  He
whipped every inch of my flesh, from my shoulders to my ankles, and he left
the marks that I still carry today.  My backside was cut and bleeding and
the welts and bruises shone through where the blood left off.

It took weeks for my body to heal and I had to finagle my way out of PE
classes so no one would see my trophies.  Mom had tried to protect me, but
the bastard slapped her around as well.  Once he had done his deed, Mom did
everything she could to care for my battered body, but there was little she
could do at that point.  For several days, I would lie in bed at night
trying to determine what I could have done that would make my father hate
me so.  I was only able to answer that question for myself after several
more beatings, during which I endured my father's taunts.  Every time he
wrought another blow to my abused torso, he would tell me what a
disobedient, miserable piece of shit I actually was.

The next beating came after I spilled my milk at dinner; it was for wasting
food and causing a mess.  The battering after that was because he saw me
talking to someone he didn't approve of; that punishment was to teach me
respect.  The next couple of times he mauled on me because I didn't clean
my room well enough or the lid blew off of the trash can because I didn't
put it on properly; these poundings were to teach me responsibility.  After
that, he would smack me around because I got into the bathroom first and
made him late for his car pool or because I asked my mother to repeat what
she had said.  Honestly, I didn't hear what she told me, but that didn't
matter.  I was whipped again, this time to teach me to respect my parents.
No matter what I did, I got bashed for it.  Sometimes it was with his belt
or with his hands.  Other times it was with a wooden switch, a wooden
spoon, the garden hose, an electrical cord, or just about anything else he
could put his hands on at the time.  When my mother drowned, trying to save
a little girl from a rain swollen creek, the beatings got even worse, if
you can believe that.  It all culminated tonight and, finally, I fought
back in anger and frustration.  I don't know, perhaps I killed him back
there, but I really didn't care how he fared from my assault.  Why should
I?  He never gave a damn about what he did to me.  Over the years I had
become numb to him and numb to his beatings, at least after about the first
two dozen episodes.  After being pummeled so many times, I willed my mind
some place else whenever he went into one of his rages.  It wasn't
happening to me, it wasn't him assaulting me, and I wasn't even there.
Afterward, I would tend to my own injuries, trying to avoid as much contact
with the afflicted areas and the outside world as I could.  Then I would
pray that all of my wounds, both physical and emotional, would heal before
the next attack began.

Now here I was, walking down a dark, lonely county highway, looking to get
away.  I wasn't sure if there would be enough traffic to get a ride or if I
would have to walk the entire 30-40 miles to I-75.  I figured that once I
hit the interstate, I could catch a ride to somewhere in southern Florida,
where I wouldn't have to worry so much about finding shelter from the
elements, especially at night while I tried to rest.  If I had to, I could
sleep out in the open, in a park or behind a school.  It wouldn't make a
difference as long as I wasn't near my asshole father.  I had walked a few
miles down that long, unlit road when a car pulled up beside me.

"Where you headed to, young fella?" the driver inquired.

"To the interstate."

"Whatcha goin' there fer?"

"I'm going to Florida to visit my Grandma, sir.  She's been really sick."

"Well, yuh got kinda a long haul ahead of yuh.  Hop in."

I jumped in the car and the driver burned a little rubber, as the tires
spun on the gravel and then caught on the pavement.  The driver was a
fairly muscular guy, probably in his mid-twenties.  He wasn't bad looking
and from the things he talked about, I assumed he was a construction
worker.  We had traveled about ten minutes before I got my first
proposition.

"Hey kid, I was thinkin' about stoppin' fer somethin' to eat.  I'm hungry.
How abouch yuh?"

"You can stop if you want to, but I'm okay.  I don't have that much money
and I've got to save what I have for my trip."

"Who said anythin' abouch yuh payin'?  Figured we could work outta little
deal."

"What do you mean?" I asked naively.

"Well, I thought I could pay fer yuh meal if yuh let me suck on yur dick."

"What would I have to do to you?"

"Nutin'.  I suck yur dick and then yuh get to eat.  That's it."

I thought about it for a minute.  I didn't mind the idea of getting sucked
off, especially by this nice looking guy, and he is going to buy my food.
This might not be such a bad deal after all.  "Well, it depends.  How much
are you willing to spend for my food, mister?"

He looked like he was adding things up in his mind.  "Ten bucks, tops."

He hit the magic number.  I didn't even have to think about it.  "Deal."

"Yeah.  There's a little place up thu road where we can pull over fer some
fun."

It wasn't long before he pulled the car over and parked.  We were stopped
in a flat, open area next to the road.  The ground had previously been
cleared of all vegetation, so we had plenty of room to get off the road and
remain undetected.  After he turned off the engine, he got out of the car,
walked over to my side of the vehicle, and he opened my door.  The dome
light didn't come on, so I figured the bulb was blown.

"Just swing yur legs out thu door and I'll make yuh feel real good."  I did
as I was told and he knelt in front of me and unfastened my jeans.  I
lifted my butt off of the seat, so he could pull my jeans and boxers down
below my knees.  My 5.75" circumcised penis was half-hard, seeing that I
was kind of excited about getting my rocks off, and he chuckled when he saw
the state I was in.

"Well, it looks like yuh kinda like my idea, boy."

"I don't know any guy who doesn't like a good blow job," I said dryly.

"And that's what I'm gonna tuh give yuh."  He bent over, grabbed my cock in
his hand, and started to lick the bright pink head.  I felt tingling
sensations washing over my body and my boyhood jumped to full attention.
He continued licking my dick and his other hand reached up and started to
fondle my balls.  He was good, real good, and I was very aroused by his
actions.  He flicked his tongue at my piss slit, sending another wave of
sensations outward from the glans, and then he slid his mouth over the tip
of my organ.  He swallowed the entire shaft and he immediately had his nose
brushing my pubic hairs.  He began to work his lips over the outer covering
of my member, gently stroking the sides of my erection with the tender,
moist flesh around the inside of his mouth.  I felt the churning in my
loins and the heat of pleasure flowing toward the tip of my dick.

"I'm nearly there.  I'm going to cum soon," I warned him, but he didn't
pull off.  If anything, he sped up his actions.
"Oh,aaaaaaahhhhhhh...I'm...going... to...cuuuuummmmmmm.  Oh God, yes.  Suck
it.  Suck it."  Knowing I was about to shoot, he took his hand off of my
nut sac and slid it under my butt.  Suddenly, I felt one of his fingers
search out my butt hole and he jammed his finger into my chute, touching
something within me that triggered my release.  That was all I could take.

"I'mmmmmmmmmmmmm...I'm...uuuuuuuuuuggggggggggggghhhhhhhhh."  That's the
last sound I uttered before several gigantic streams of sperm jettisoned
from my cock and flooded the driver's slurping mouth.  He kept sucking on
my dick until he had teased the last drops of cum from my now wilting love
muscle.

"Boy.  Yuh sure pack one hellofa load.  Damn tasty, too.  Hell, yuh filled
me up so much that I dunno if I ken still eat."

"You're not backing out of your deal, are you?"  I panicked.

"No kid, yuh was good to yur word and I'll be good fer mine.  We'll go eat,
all right.  Hell, yuh ken even pick thu place."

Relieved, I asked him if there was a decent pizza place around and he said
that he knew just the spot.  We stopped at 'Tony's Pizza Parlor' and we had
a large, thick crust, pepperoni pizza and cokes.  It was really pretty good
and we were on the road again.  As we drove along I closed my eyes, leaned
back, and began to think.  Hey, if I can find other guys out there who will
pay me or buy me things if I let them suck me off, then I might do better
than I first thought.  In fact, it might even be fun.  I guess that I've
always suspected that I might be gay.  Heck, I always seem to get aroused
looking at or thinking about other guys, so maybe I can use that to my
advantage.  This may be just what I need to prove if I really am gay or
not.  I can earn some money and relieve my built up sexual tensions at the
same time.  Hell, if the guy looks decent enough, I might even be willing
to suck him off for even more money.

I kept thinking about all of these new possibilities when the driver
brought me back from my circumspection.  "Hey, boy.  Yuh asleep?"

"No, just thinking."

"Well, thu interstate is right chere so I just wanna let yuh know that's as
fer as I'm goin'."

"Thanks for the ride, sir, and thanks for everything else.  I really
appreciate what you did for me."

"Well, I'll keep muh eyes open fer yur return trip.  Maybe we ken have some
more fun then."

"Yeah, that would be great," I responded, knowing full well that I had no
plans to ever return.  He pulled over, I got out, and I thanked him again.

"Hey, kid.  Head over to that truck stop over thar and yuh might be able
tuh talk one of dem drivers into givin' yuh a ride south.  Most of dem
travel on thu interstate."

I thanked him again and did as he suggested.  I started talking to the
drivers to see which ones would be heading south.  Most of them seemed to
be traveling north, but then one of the drivers said he was going in my
direction.

"Yeah, I'm driving south, all the way to Miami.  I can get you almost
anywhere you want to go."

"That would be nice, but I can't afford to pay you."  The driver started to
eye me up and down.

"Well, I'll tell you what, kid.  You let me have a piece of that tail and
not only will I drop you off where you want to go, but I'll buy your meals
along the way, too."

"What exactly do you want me to do?"

"You don't have to do nothin', son, except let me fuck that cute little ass
of yours."

"Uh, I...well...I don't know about that," I stuttered.  "I've never
done...well...that before."  I paused.  "Isn't there something else I could
do instead?"

"Look, son.  I'll be real gentle with you.  I've got some KY in the cab and
I'll loosen you up real good, so you won't hardly feel a thing."

"I'm...I'm...not sure," I stammered again.

"Son, you're not going to get any better offer than I'm making you.  I'm
going the whole way to Miami, so I can drop you off no matter where you're
heading."

"Well, where would you suggest that I go?"

"You mean you don't know where you're going?"

"I just want to get away for a while.  I want to go some place where I'll
blend in and where it'll be warm enough to spend all of my time outdoors.
It would help if there was also a big, modern mall in a nice neighborhood."

"In that case, I'd suggest Ft. Lauderdale.  There's a huge mall on the west
side, near the interstate, and I think you'd fit in there fine.  It'll be
plenty warm enough, too.  'Course, most of those parts would be."

I thought for a while before I answered him.  If you promise not to hurt
me, then I'll take a ride to Ft. Lauderdale.  Deal?"

"Sure, kid.  I'll be as gentle as your own mama."  I thanked him but the
mention of my mother brought a whole new wave of emotions into play.  I
wonder if I'd be doing this if she were still around?  I wonder if she'd
have left Dad and taken the two of us somewhere safe?  I wonder if she
could have protected me or if she would have even had him arrested for what
he did to us?  I guess that there's no sense worrying or wondering about
things that can never be.  I hopped in the truck's cab with the driver and
we were soon tooling down the highway.  The trucker said he'd be pulling
over to take a little nap just before we left I-75 to take another route
over to I-95.  That's when he would be expecting his payment.

I started fidgeting in my seat, wondering if I made the right decision.
Although I've occasionally thought about some guy popping my anal cherry, I
always hoped it would be some cute young guy whom I fell in love with.
Here I am, with some truck driver in his late fifties, and I've agreed to
let him deflower me for the price of a ride and meals.  At the time it
sounded like the right decision, but now I was beginning to wonder if I
wasn't a bit hasty.  I think that the driver knew or guessed what I was
thinking about, because he suddenly tried to engage me in a lot of inane
chitchat about anything that popped into his mind.

We had a long ride ahead of us.  We had the whole southern half of Georgia
to drive through and then the whole length of Florida.  It would be about a
third of the way down Florida before we would stop, so I would have several
hours to ponder my fate.  I wanted to fall asleep and forget about what
awaited me, but I knew my mind would never let go of the idea long enough
for me to get any rest.  Instead, I decided to spend my time mentally
preparing myself for what was going to happen.  He said that he wouldn't
hurt me and he seemed to be a pretty honest and up-front type of person.  I
had to try and convince myself that this would work out fine, even if it
wasn't exactly how I wanted it to happen.

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If you have enjoyed reading this story, you will find other stories by me at
http://members.tripod.de/wolfslair, in the 'Other Stories' section.
E-mails may be sent to: bwstories8@aol.com.