Date: Sat, 11 Feb 2012 21:33:35 -0500
From: Casey Martell <hollyweird@email.com>
Subject: The Mall Rat

THE MALL RAT
by Casey Martell
hollyweird@email.com

This story involves a 28-year-old man seducing a 15-year-old boy at a
shopping mall in a very unusual way.  If you enjoy this one, or can relate
to it, write me and we'll talk.  No flames, please, if you don't like it,
stop reading.

---

The mall was old, built in the late 1960s, about 30 miles east of downtown
Los Angeles.  A major renovation in the '80s had added a second story, but
since then the center had lost two of its anchor stores and had fallen into
disrepair.  One of the shops still making a living on the second floor was
a trendy store offering bored suburban teens two of the things they craved
most: music and clothes, and seemed to attract a lot of goth and emo kids
in their mid to late teens.  Lately it was also attracting 28-year-old
Casey Martell, who lived just east of the declining shopping center and had
a taste for teenage boys.  The tall supermarket clerk had found the hip
upstairs clothing shop, and the mall's noisy food court, well worth his
time on Saturday mornings for the past several months.

The last two Saturdays, a boy about fourteen or fifteen had wandered into
the teen clothing shop and spent a few minutes looking at hoodies, beanies
and black t-shirts.  Casey had watched the short, dark-haired boy both
times and had the urge to approach him and start a conversation, but both
times the store was crowded and the timing just didn't seem right.  As
Casey walked into the trendy store, he was hoping the same boy would show
up again, and about ten minutes later, he did.  It was a holiday weekend,
so the mall was nearly empty of shoppers and even the teen store had only a
few.  Casey was hoping the right moment would come.

About 5'6" tall and of average build, the teen had dark brown hair that had
been dyed black, with bangs that covered the boy's left eye and most of
that side of his face.  He wore the usual tight black pants and black
t-shirt, with black skater sneakers and black socks.  He had large grey
eyes with long lashes, accented with just the right amount of blue eye
shadow.  He was starting to get a bit of facial hair, mostly on his upper
lip.  His cheeks and chin sported a pimple or two but his complexion was
actually unusually clear for his age.  A necklace of puka shells circled
his neck, and a collection of plastic wristbands adorned both wrists.
Pretty standard accessories for a California male in his mid teens.

The boy walked directly to his usual rack of hoodies and beanies, putting
him out of the line of sight of the store's two twentysomething clerks and
away from the two or three other kids who seemed more interested in CDs and
stickers.  Casey stood beside the boy at the rack.

Both of the handsome teen's forearms were crosshatched with a scattering of
razor-thin cuts, some a month or two old and nearly healed into scars, some
quite recent, and, as Casey had noticed on the previous Saturdays, a few
were very fresh, probably from the previous night or early Saturday
morning.  The cuts, and the boy's unmistakable "hurt me, I'm vulnerable"
look on his face and in his large, pretty eyes, had given Casey an idea.
The tall, thin supermarket clerk had been reading up on the phenomenon that
teens called "cutting", and had learned it was a form of self-abuse, often
engaged in because it strangely enough brought some relief from the
adolescent pain of their home or school life.  Casey had come to the mall
with a little theory that was just crazy enough to work.

As the boy picked up a dark grey beanie from the rack and looked at the
price tag, Casey reached over and traced the newest cuts on the teen's
nearly hairless arms with his fingertip, and in a soft, gentle voice said
"That's really cool."  The hand holding the beanie paused in mid-air, and
the teen closed his eyes for about five seconds, reopened them, and put the
beanie back on the rack, still looking straight ahead.

"Did that make you feel a little better?"  Casey continued to speak in a
gentle near-whisper, and picked up a black baseball cap so it would look
like he was shopping.  The teen turned toward Casey, reached up with one
hand and brushed his bangs away from his face.  This was the critical
moment: the kid would either freak out right on the spot, or he would let
Casey in.  The boy's large grey eyes stared back for about ten seconds, and
the silence between them was so total Casey could hear the boy breathe.

"A little," the short teen finally whispered, his eyes still locked onto
Casey's.  "Do you care?"

"I'd like to," Casey whispered back.  He dropped his gaze to the front of
the teen's black t-shirt, then back to his eyes.  "Are there more?"

The boy nodded silently.  "A lot, actually."

"I'd like to see," Casey whispered, "and talk about it.  My car's up in the
parking garage, nobody's gonna see."  The older man knew the kid would need
time to think, and he patiently waited.

"Are you gay?" the boy asked gently, without a hint of sarcasm.

"Yeah," Casey answered, matching the boy's soft tone, now just above a
whisper.

The boy looked down at his sneakers and nodded his head slowly before he
answered.  "Okay."

They exited the store together and found Casey's maroon Toyota in a remote
corner of the parking garage.  After they climbed into the back bench seat,
with the high backs of the front bucket seats hiding them somewhat from
view, the handsome teen pulled off his black t-shirt and dropped it at his
feet, settling back against the seat so Casey could see his cuts.  His
large grey eyes looked expectant, and his face had the vulnerable look the
older man had seen on the two previous Saturdays.

"What's your name?" Casey asked, putting his arm around the teen's warm
shoulders and giving him a gentle embrace.

"Trevor."

"How old are you?"  Casey was still speaking in the soft, gentle tone he
had used in the store.

"Fifteen."

Trevor was starting to get some definition in his chest and arms.  A bit of
sparse, dark hair had sprouted between his pecs, and his nipples were large
and medium brown.  Casey began touching the freshest cuts on the boy's
chest and arms as the teen watched.

"I'm glad it helps," Casey told him.

"This helps too," Trevor whispered, pulling a small plastic bag of
marijuana out of a pants pocket.

"Good, I'm glad," Casey answered, and started rubbing the teenager's pecs
with his hand.  Trevor closed his eyes for a moment, then reopened them.
Casey hugged Trevor a little tighter and started rubbing the boy's chest
and stomach.  The handsome teen seemed to relax and didn't appear to mind.

"Have you been having sex with someone in your family?"  Another
potentially critical moment, the kid was either goint to freak out and run
away, or answer it.  He answered it in a whisper so quiet Casey could
barely hear.

"My dad."

"How old were you the first time?"

"Twelve."

"When was the last time?"

"Last night.  It's pretty much every night."

"So, every night since you were twelve?"

"Yeah."

"Tell me what he does."

Trevor looked out the car window at the nearly empty parking garage for a
long moment before answering.

"First he makes out with me," the boy finally replied.  His whisper was
almost inaudible.

Casey leaned over and kissed Trevor hard on the lips several times, then
put his tongue into the boy's mouth when he felt Trevor's lips part.  Casey
and the handsome teen tongue-kissed deeply for nearly ten minutes, while
Casey continued to rub the boy's bare chest and stomach.  When they
stopped, the teen's large grey eyes were almost begging for more, but his
lips were clearly asking for something more than Casey's tongue.  The
supermarket clerk ubbuttoned and pulled down the zipper of his khaki
slacks, and slid his pants and boxers down to his knees.

Without a word, Trevor leaned over, took Casey's already rigid penis in his
hand, and slurped the head of it into his warm, wet young mouth.  The
teenager proceeded to give the older man the most mind-bending oral sex he
had ever had in his life, using his tongue and just the right amount of
suction from his cheeks to bring the man to climax.  Trevor sucked him to
completion and swallowed Casey's sperm.  Clearly his dad had taught him
well.  He sat up straight and looked silently back at Casey.

"I'd like to start seeing you on Saturdays," Casey said gently.

"Okay," Trevor answered, so quickly that Casey wondered if the boy had been
coming to the mall to meet men.

"Thank you," Casey said gently, and pulled the teen into a tight, warm
embrace.  "Meet me in the mall next Saturday?"

"Yeah," Trevor answered, "I will.  Maybe we can talk more, too."

"We will, I promise."