Date: Tue, 8 Nov 2011 21:17:45 -0800 (PST) From: Macout Mann <macoutmann@yahoo.com> Subject: Teenaged Hustler 5 This story is fiction. Any resemblance to actual places, persons, or events is purely coincidental. This story also contains explicit homosexual activity between teens and adults. Be warned. If such activity offends you or if you are underage, please move on. TEENAGED HUSTLER BY Macout Mann Chapter 5 Matt's dad had encouraged him to open a bank account when he first started hustling. It had been a wise decision. But today, before depositing Spangler's check, he wanted to show it to Jim and Si. Jim got home first and was suitably impressed by the size of the check. "Shit, man, you really struck gold!" he exclaimed. "And he says he's goanna call me for another go," Matt said. His dad had an even stronger reaction. "Goddam, Matt, do you know who this motherfucker is?" "Yeah," Matt replied. "It says right there. `Austin Spangler.'" "Austin Spangler is the President and CEO of Spangler Investments, Inc. It's one of the biggest financial services companies in the country. You know that big glass building down there by the Jefferson Center? Spangler Investments owns it and its offices take up about three-quarters of it. There aint no sign on the building. They like to stay under the radar. But you've got yourself some kind of john there, son." Jim came over and cupped Matt's groin. "The boy with the golden dick!" he laughed. "Well, he said he'd call me, but he aint done it yet," Matt said. "I'll take care of you in the meantime," Jim said. The next day Matt did deposit the check, and the next day Spangler did call. "I'd like to pick you up on my way home from the office. Don't wear your Mobil costume tonight, though. I'd like to take you to dinner. Jeans and a shirt will be all right." Matt guessed he didn't mean a t shirt, but Matt's wardrobe wasn't all that extensive. He finally selected a dark green K Mart "blue light special" knit and pulled on his newest pair of 501s. The Mercedes arrived promptly at ten after five. They drove to a suburb south of the city and pulled into a nondescript pizzeria. "This place has the best pizza this side of Chicago," Spangler said. Once they were seated, the owner came out of the kitchen and greeted Spangler warmly. "This is an honor, Mr. Spangler," he said. "It's been quite a while." "Mrs. Spangler is out of town, Bud, so I can have some really good food for a change," Spangler replied. "I'd like you to meet my nephew's son, Matt," he added. "Good to meet you, Matt," Bud smiled. "If it hadn't been for your uncle, we could have never got started in business." "Glad to see you too," Matt said. "I can't wait to try your pizza. Uncle Austin says it's the best." "We think so," Bud grinned. "You think you could bring us each a Budweiser, Bud?" Spangler winked. "I'll tell your waitress. Enjoy your pizza." The beers arrived. Matt's was in a large, purple tumbler, the kind they served fountain drinks in. Spangler ordered a large pepperoni, anchovy, mushroom, and green pepper. And when the waitress was out of earshot, he said, "You handled meeting Bud very well, Matt. I could see you going out almost anywhere with someone like me." "Thank you, Austin," Matt replied. The pizza was magnificent. Matt had never tasted anchovies. "Another acquired taste for a lot of people," Spangler said. "I sorta like `em," Matt responded. "And the sauce is outta this world." Their meal finished, Spangler drove back to Wordsworth Drive and into his garage. As they walked to the den he asked, "Can you take another martini?" "Anytime," Matt said. "My wife says you shouldn't drink martinis after dinner," Spangler commented, "but I say to myself, `I do as I please.'" He prepared the drinks. This time they sat side by side on one of the couches. Spangler absent-mindedly fingered Matt's crotch as they talked. "You're a very interesting young man," he mused. "Lots of potential. Lots. I think you could make real money entertaining people. Could learn to fit in. Might even know some other boys..." Matt was hardly listening. He certainly didn't understand the implications of what Spangler was saying. He was much more interested in what the older man was doing, opening Matt's fly and letting his rigid prick escape its denim prison. "I can't wait," Spangler cried, and he took the boys dick into his hungry mouth, sucking it to a quick orgasm. Afterward, they finished their martinis and retired to Spangler's bedroom, where they pretty much repeated the activities of Matt's previous visit. This time, of course, they had an earlier start, so before the night was over Spangler had accepted five loads of Matt's precious cum. Matt went down on Spangler twice, but the second time he didn't achieve the fulfillment he would have enjoyed in earlier years. Still, he did relish the feeling of the teen's lips stimulating his manhood. Matt's dick was delicously sore from pounding Spangler's willing ass. On the way back downtown next morning Spangler seemed to be in deep thought. He didn't say much until they had pulled up at Matt's place. "My wife's coming back next week," Spangler began. "I can only entertain you one more time. I'll be free Tuesday night. I would like to share you with a friend of mine. I don't expect you'd object to that. "I won't pay you double, but is `time and a half for overtime' acceptable?" "Sure," Matt answered. "One more thing. I want you to go this afternoon or tomorrow to Winston's—you know where it is?—and get some clothes to wear Tuesday. A suit will be appropriate. You won't have to wear underwear, if you don't want to. And I'll have them fit you in a nicer sports outfit too. I'll call and tell Harold what to do. Ask for him, when you go. "Understood?" "Yes sir. And thank you...Austin." "You're more than welcome, Matt. You have a great deal of potential. "I'll pick you up around five Tuesday." Matt watched the sedan speed away. This time he didn't wait to deposit his check. He also didn't wait to head to Winston's, the city's most exclusive men's store. He arrived as soon after noon as he dared. Entering and wearing the same clothes he had the night before, he found a thin, thirty-year-old fairy in a grey suit and a pink shirt staring down his nose at him. He knew the type. Had seen them on the block. "Help you?" the clerk sneered. "Harold around?" Matt answered. "I'll see." Shortly, a portly, grey-haired gentleman appeared. "I'm Harold Winston," he said. "Mr. Spangler told me to ask for you," Matt said. "Oh, you must be Matt," Winston smiled, extending his hand. "It's good to meet you. Follow me, please." Matt was asked about his preference in colors and the like, but he replied, "I feel like Mr. Spangler has a pretty clear idea what he wants me to have. Why don't you select for me?" "I can certainly do that." In short order Matt was fitted in a dark, pin-striped suit, a white oxford button-down shirt, a dark red and blue silk striped tie, black socks, and black, plain toed dress shoes. In addition, a pair of tan chinos, some designer jeans, and a deep blue knit shirt were selected. "Austin said you'd be needing these immediately," Winston said. "We can have them ready for pickup late tomorrow afternoon." "Thank you, sir. That will be fine." "Just sign here, Matt. And thank you." Matt didn't tell Jim or his dad about his trip to Winston's. He did share with Jim that he was going to have a $750 three-way the following Tuesday. He couldn't believe what was happening. "I guess it's all going to end when Austin's wife gets back," he confided to his uncle, "but somehow I have this feeling. There's a whole different world out there and I can be a part of it." "Fat chance," Jim said. - - - - - - - - - Feedback is important. Please let me hear from you. macoutmann@yahoo.com Copyright 2011 by Macout Mann. All rights reserved.