Date: Wed, 23 Apr 2014 15:37:27 -0400 (EDT)
From: Wolf Pomo <whitewold999@icqmail.com>
Subject: Gamblers Son (gay/adult youth, oral. anal, M/m, b/M...)
DISCLAIMER:
This story is a work of fiction and contains descriptions of
explicit sexual acts of boys and men discovering their
sexuality. It contains graphic scenes of sex between
consenting underage boy and adult males... If this type of
content offends you or you are under the age of 18 do not
read it.
Author's Note:
This story is the property of the author. It can be downloaded
for personal reading pleasure or sending to a friend, but if
you wish to re-post them at your own site, please contact the
author for permission.
If it is illegal to read such material where you live or if you
find the topic distasteful the please leave now. If you enjoy
the story or if it evokes memories of your own, please let me
know. I am happy to write stories from outlines.
Copyright 2013 Wolf, All rights reserved.
You may contact me at whitewold999@icqmail.com if you
like. All flames will be ignored.
Gambler's Son
By
Wolf
My father had been a big money winner as a young
man playing professional poker. He was used to the fast life
of a professional gambler. He was comp'd at all of the Vegas
hotels. He eventually got married and I was porn soon
afterwards. While I was a young boy, my father started to
lose poker games he would have normally won without much
trouble. We started to fall on hard times. My mother
developed a medical problem that required my father having
too take her to an emergency room. She tied while in the
waiting room of a ruptured appendix.
Father had the responsibility of looking after me, while
participating in marathon poker games that would last for
days. He was drinking too much and using speed to stay
awake for long periods of time. He was reduced to playing in
backrooms for low stakes in an effort to win enough money
to be able to buy back into high stakes poker games.
There were times he would be flush with money only
to lose it all. We moved around so much to avoid bill
collectors that I never went to school. There were times we
lived in old cars parked behind grocery stores, just to pick
food out of the dumpsters. There came an occasion that my
father was so desperate to get his hands on a stake large
enough to buy into a high stakes poker game that he did a
stupid thing.
One night he stole the night's receipts of a Mexican
gang from the courier before he could deliver the packet of
money from a combination of drug sales, prostitution and
gambling. There was in excess twenty grand in the
unassuming bag. He had no place to leave me, so he took me
to the local pool hall, where there was a private high stakes
poker game upstairs.
He had to get passed the bouncer by proving he had
enough cash to buy into the game, even though he was
known to the manager of the game. I was allowed to sleep
on a couch next to a couple of high priced hookers, while the
game progressed.
Unknown to my father and I, he had developed a tell
that gave away when her was bluffing or had a strong hand.
When he would win pots they were light pots, and when he
bluffed they would run the pots up. Winning little and losing
a lot is a recipe or formula to lose your bankroll quickly.
About twenty hours into the game my father wrote a marker
for an additional ten grand. About ten hours later he was
busted. When the banker confronted him to cover his
marker, my father wimped out and admitted that he didn't
have enough to cover the loses.
The owner of the game signaled his bounces, and they
grabbed my father by the arms and the owner ripped my
father's pants down, and pulled out a cock large enough to
have been on a donkey, and shoved it up my father's ass.
I was horrified witnessing my father being raped. He
was pleading and begging for forgiveness while the man
raped his ass.
Everyone was so engrossed witnessing my father being
raped that they were totally surprised when a group of
Mexicans busted in with guns drawn. The bouncers didn't
have a chance to react, before they were disarmed.
The leader of the group was known as "El Matador."
His men took hold of my father's arms, as the leader
confronted my father, while there was still a cock shoved up
his ass.
He demanded, "Where the fuck is my money, BITCH?"
My father pleaded that he lost it in the poker game!
El Matador turned to one of his thugs, and the man
handed him a sword. He placed the tip against my father's
neck at the knot above the shoulders and shoved the blade
down through my father's spine, lungs, and heart, just like a
bull fighter does a bull. My father coughed blood and
collapsed instantly. The Matador turned to the owner of the
game and said, "I expect you to return my money to me!"
very coolly.
The owner of the poker game knew better than to
argue with so many drawn guns. He made a simple nod
towards the banker of the game, and the banker quickly
counted out twenty thousand dollars, and handed the bills to
the nearest gun totting thug.
The armed thugs were leaving as the owner asked,
"What the hell am I supposed to with this body?"
The leader of the gang, spit out, "It is your problem!
Next time make sure your players didn't steel from me!"
There was a lot of commotion. The unsuspecting
gamblers were quick to split, along with the whores. They
didn't even think to pick up their own money. The owner of
the club told his body guards to dispose of the body, some
place that it won't comeback to bite him in the ass!
As the place cleared out, he finally noticed me still
sitting on the couch in shock. He flung up his hands, "What
am I going to do with this kid?"
One of his bouncers said, "I know a administrator of an
orphanage that could take in an extra boy and change his
identity!"
The club owner snarled, "Take care of it!"
The bouncer took hold of my arm and pulled me to my
feet. I was too shocked to say anything. He took me out the
back door to a car parked in a lot behind the pool hall. He
used his cell-phone to make a call to someone. He drove me
to the edge of town and pulled into a driveway of a building
that looked almost like a prison near a country club golf
course. He pulled me out of the car by the arm, and dragged
me into the administration office. We were greeted by an
older man.
I couldn't help staring at the man, because I had never
seen anyone like him before. He was obviously a man, but he
had makeup on like a female. I'm talking lipstick, eye
shadow, false eyelashes and eyebrows plucked and colored.
He even had diamond earrings. He was dressed in a business
suit though. He greeted the poker club bouncer as if they
were old friends, but he never took his eyes off of me.
He asked, "What is the story about this delightfully
charming young boy?"
The man said, "This boy just witnessed his father
getting executed by El Matador for stealing money from him!
This boy can never tell anyone what he saw. If El Matador
ever suspected that this boy could identify who killed his
father, he would never live long enough to testify in court!
You need to see to it that he forgets everything he ever knew
about what happened to his father. I knew that you could
change his identity, and how much you like young boys, and
figured if anyone could bring him up right, you were the one
that could do it.
There was some discussion about compensation that I
didn't understand. I never knew if the orphanage paid the
owner poker club, or if the poker club paid the orphanage for
me.
As soon as the bouncer departed the orphanage the
administrator put his perfumed arm around me, as he tried to
comfort me. He told me that he would look after me, and
protect me from any harm. He introduced himself as Gilbert
Olson, and he asked me where I had been living. As soon as I
told him about living my father's old Dodge Dart behind a
grocery store, he insisted that I show him where, before the
police found the car.
As soon as we pulled up alongside the car Gilbert used
rubber gloves to rummage through the car for any trace of
me living there. He removed the papers from the glove box
with reference to me. He opened the trunk and removed
only luggage containing my clothes, and rummaged through
papers for any reference about me. He told me that it would
be wise if no one ever knew that my father had a son,
because the gang would come looking for me.
When we returned to the orphanage, he suggested
that I take a worm bath and get some sleep. He showed me a
typical public type of bathroom with a cold concrete shower.
He turned on the shower for me, and left me to undress and
take a shower.
I had forgotten that I hadn't slept in almost a two days.
The warm water made me relax so much that I sat down
under the spray of the warm water and fell asleep. Gilbert
had to turn the water off before waking me up. He gave me a
large soft bath towel to dry off. When I came out of the
bathroom I followed Gilbert to his bedroom, and there were
silk pajamas lying on the bed. I put them on and got into the
bed. I was asleep almost instantly.
I did have a fitful night's sleep because I was having
nightmares about the murder of my father. (No boy should
ever see their father killed the way mine was.) I must have
been whining in my sleep, because Gilbert came into the
bedroom and lay down with me and hugged me against his
chest as I drifted back off to sleep. I slept for at least 14
hours before hunger woke me up. Gilbert felt me moving
around and got up to retrieve clean clothes for me to put on.
There were simple boxer shorts, blue denim jeans, blue work
shirt and cheap tennis shoes and socks.
He used his cell-phone and ordered a meal brought up
from the kitchen for me. Then he looked through my luggage
at my clothes. He simple said, "There is nothing in here
worth saving son. We might as well dispose of these things,
even the underwear are full of holes!"
By the time I was dressed a cart with a large breakfast
arrived. I devoured the meal quickly. Afterwards Gilbert told
me that he had someone that would give me a new identity.
He told me that if the gangbangers ever found out that the
man they killed had a son that had witnessed him killing my
father. He would have to see to it that I could never testify
against him. The police know who he is, and how he
eliminates people, but could never prove it. He disposed of
the blades he used after every kill. Even if they stopped him,
he never had a blade on his person. Someone else carries the
blades for him and the new blades had never been use. He
always did it that way so that everyone would know who had
done it, as an object lesson, but impossible to connect him to
the act.
I pledged to kill him myself.
Gilbert assured me that before I was grown, El Matador
would have already been killed by another gangster. He
would eventually invade the territory of another gang. His
territory was next to the Chinese and black gang's turf.
(He told the truth, it was only a couple of years before
El Matador was found in an ally with his blade shoved up his
ass and his throat cut. His tongue had been pulled out of his
throat like a tie. Most of his gang was scattered around the
alley full of built holes.)
Gilbert had procured an official forged birth certificate
proclaiming that I had been born in New Jersey and my name
was Peter Hanson, son of Olaf Hanson and Lisabth Peterson-
Hanson. It fit me well because I was a natural blond with blue
eyes.
Gilbert continued to have me sleep in his bed with him
to comfort me. He also comforted me by taking my little
penis out of the pajamas and playing with it to make me feel
good. He even sucked on it lovingly. During the days I was
being introduced to the way the orphanage operated.
As I got used to the place it was not as frightening as it
had appeared that first day. It still looked like a prison with
high fences making it look so imposing. It was divided into
two separate facilities. I was told that this was for at risk
children. The teenagers had a separated portion of the
campus (as it was called). The younger boys what another
portion of the campus, but there were some teenagers
allowed to help supervise the younger boys.
I learned that the reason these boys were considered
at risk was because they were considered delinquent or had
been abused physically or sexually.
It didn't take me long to witness sexual activity taking
place in both sections of the campus. The orphanage staff
not only ignored the sexual activities of the boy, they even
participated in sex acts with them.
Gilbert was showing me around the grounds, and
introducing me to the staff members, along with some of the
special boys. I was struck by the casual relationship the older
teenagers had with staff members. There was one tall
teenager leaning against a wall, all he had on was a pair of
short shorts and a fish net tank top, and tennis shoes without
socks. His long cock was plainly visible dangling below the
right leg of his shorts. He was talking to a staff member, and
was casually reaching down to stoke the crotch of the man he
was talking to. The staff member looked to be about 50-
years-old. The old man wore glasses and his hair was
receding, and he was wearing a lab coat, but there was
obviously a bulge in the front where the teenager was
stroking. I was surprised that Gilbert didn't reproach the two
of them. Gilbert didn't even seem to notice their conduct.
There didn't seem to be a lot of teenagers around, and
Gilbert told me that after school in the morning a lot of them
were working as apprentices for local business or trades.
There were a few teenagers allowed to supervise the younger
boys though.
As Gilbert was showing me where the younger boys
and boys my age, were segregated from the older teenagers.
I was not all that impressed until we came to an outdoor
location where a teenager was calmly whittling on a block of
wood with a sharp knife. He was sitting on the grass with his
back resting against and old oak tree. His legs were bent and
spread wide, because there was a boy about ten lying on his
belly between the teenagers legs. The teenager's pants were
open and the boy was sucking on the cock, while jerking him
off. Again Gilbert showed no reaction to catching a teenager
being sucked off by a young boy.
I became aware that the young boys were also engaged
in playful games all over the place. I had never witnessed so
many boys jacking off and jacking off each other before. We
even fond a young boy too young to cum bent over a table
and a boy about fourteen sticking his cock up the boy's ass.
The boy was not complaining, in fact he was reaching back to
grasp the teen's thighs and pull him tighter against his
smooth butt.
It was obvious that sex was going to be my favorite
pastime. Gilbert introduced me to a teenager that looked to
be about seventeen, named Frank. He was a very handsome
looking guy. That was the beginning of mt attraction to both
older men and young boys.
If you enjoyed the story and have a story you want me to
write about your introduction to the world of male sexuality,
please send your outline to whitewold999@icqmail.com