Date: Fri, 6 Oct 2006 18:32:13 -0400
From: Captain Swing <grubsnort@comcast.net>
Subject: Worth Every Penny 4

This story contains explicit scenes of sexual contact between males
of various ages, including teenagers.  It is intended for the
entertainment of adults who wish to read it and are permitted by law
to do so.  It is wholly fictional;  the narrator's experiences do not
represent those of the author.  The author does not advocate or
condone the actions or the opinions contained herein.

_____________________________________________________________________


I recovered quickly from my afternoon with Jorge--that is to say, my
ass did.  Before long I was ready to try the next little morsel that
Miguel could come up with.  Without realizing it, we had begun an
arrangement that would last almost three years--so far, that is. It's
still going on.  I've savored the charms of over two dozen young
Hispanic boys.  It wouldn't be fair to say they've begun to blend
together in my memory.  I can remember at least something about every
one of them.  But it's sometimes difficult to remember the order in
which I met them, or which particular attribute went with which boy,
or to keep all the names straight.  The latter problem isn't helped
by the fact that a good third of them--probably more-- were named
José.  I began to think they were just using the name as an alias
rather than give me their real names, but apparently not.  By and
large, all the boys were at the very least satisfactory.  I didn't
have any real duds.  This was no doubt due to Miguel, who made sure
that all the boys he found me fit within the rough guidelines I'd
given him.  I didn't exactly refuse to see the same boy twice, but
let Miguel know that I much preferred to have a different boy each
time.  That didn't seem to be a problem for him. They were all
between the ages of twelve and fifteen; I certainly didn't insist on
thirteen year olds.  They all were at least average in looks.  Most
importantly, they all knew what they were in for and were thoroughly
willing to participate.

There was probably no completely typical encounter, but most were
similar.  I'd meet Miguel and the boy on the street (not always the
same street--we were smart enough for that), take him to the motel
(always the same motel, unfortunately), fondle him, strip him, and
suck as many loads out of him as I could.  After Jorge, maybe half
the boys fucked me, too.  Some I didn't ask and some flatly refused.
Almost always we'd go out to eat (they all liked McDonalds), and I'd
inwardly smirk as I paraded my new little lover past the other
unsuspecting patrons.  I sometimes was afraid that an employee of the
restaurant might recognize me and begin to question what was going
on, but we seldom saw the same one twice and no one ever showed the
slightest interest in us.  After the meal, we'd go back to the motel
for another couple rounds of sloppy man-boy sex.

 From the very beginning, I always saw the motel as the weak link in
my elaborate scheme of shameless molestation.  All it would take was
one untimely phone call to bring me down, ruin my life, destroy my
career and my family, and send me to jail  forever.  I'd come to feel
slightly more comfortable there, but never checked in or out without
a certain degree of worry.  The clerks, who were possibly also the
owners, were two nearly identical, equally fat, Indian guys, who
never gave the slightest sign of recognition, no matter how often
they saw me.  That was probably just as well, and I didn't really
think they'd turn me in--unless, of course, there was some way to
make a dollar or two out of it. I was more concerned about the human
flotsam and jetsam who were often in evidence in or around the
parking lot.  Most of them were there for their own unsavory
purposes, and were very unlikely to want to get the police involved,
but I could never be sure.  I also worried about the possibility of
blackmail.  Nobody, not even Miguel, knew my last name or my address,
but I drove there in my own car, and the license plate number could
certainly identify me.  I did my best to avoid encounters with my
fellow motel patrons, and above all to avoid offending or angering
any of them, but when I was honest with myself I had to acknowledge
that my good luck might one day run out.  Even if "Honor Among
Thieves" weren't a myth, I knew that my fellow miscreants might
consider my transgressions too much even for them to tolerate.  But
no one ever confronted me.

The black whore I met the day I brought Jorge to the motel seemed to
be the most loyal customer of the place.  I saw her frequently, and
even developed a vague acquaintance with her.  We'd nod hello when we
met each other coming or going, she with her current paramour, I with
mine.  I certainly wasn't interested in getting to know her, but I
figured being polite to her might keep me on her good side, and
prevent her from casually picking up the phone one day and getting me
busted when I least expected it.  One day she was in the lot alone
when I went back to my car to retrieve my jacket, leaving whatever-
boy-it-was in the room.  Apparently she'd been stood up by a client
and had had a few drinks to compensate.  She surprised me by speaking.

"Hey baby, what's going on?"

I smiled politely and said "Hi. How are you?"

"You lookin' for a little fun, sugar?  Why don't you give ol'
Shondra a try, honey?  You won't regret it,"

I forced a short laugh.  "Not, today, baby.  Maybe some other time."

Shondra (I gathered that was her name) gave an exaggerated pout and
pretended to be hurt. " Come on, honey.  Why don't you forget about
them little boys and see what a real woman can do for you."

She couldn't have sent a sharper jolt to my heart if she'd used an
icepick.  I had become so complacent, so sure that no one noticed or
cared what I did at the motel, and with whom.  I'm sure the color
drained from my face and I could only gape at her.  She noticed my
obvious shock and was amused.  With a deep merry laugh she continued.
"What, baby?  You didn't think I knew what you been doin' in there
with them boys?  Shit, honey, I ain't blind."

It was utterly useless to try to deny it;  it might only make her
mad.  I stammered as I tried to think of a reply, finally coming out
with, "Does anybody else know?"

She laughed again. "I couldn't say, honey.  Most people here mind
their own business, know what I mean?  I mind my own business too.
Relax, baby. I'm just messin' with you. You don't bother me, I ain't
gonna bother you.  Besides, I see them little boys always be smilin'
when they come out, so I figure you ain't hurtin' em none.  They
happy, you happy, shit, I be happy too."

I hoped to God she was telling the truth, and decided the only thing
to do was act as if I believed her, to act as if we were friends--
all part of some big outlaw society--which maybe we were. I gave her
a big smile.  "Thanks, Shondra. I knew I could count on you."

She smiled back, but she was no fool.  "You didn't know shit, honey.
You be lookin' like I kicked you in the balls.  But that's OK,
honey.  You don't gotta worry about Shondra."  She gave me a wicked
leer. "It wouldn't hurt you to buy a girl a drink sometime though,
know what I mean?"

Actually, I didn't know what she meant.  Was she hitting me up for
money?  How much did she want?  If I gave her money would it mean I'd
wind up having to pay her every time I saw her?  How many other
people might I have to pay?  Shondra saw my confusion and laughed.
She turned and started to walk away.  "Never mind, sugar.  You go on
in your room.  I bet you got yourself a cute little boy in there just
waitin'  for Big Daddy to come in and show him a good time."  She
turned and smiled at me."Don't forget though, honey.  You wanna quit
them boys and find yourself a real woman, I be here."

I'm sure I was still shaking when I went in to join whoever-he-was.
I'd gone for my jacket to get the lube I had in the pocket so he
could fuck me, but my encounter with Shondra so unnerved me that I
don't recall any details about the fuck, or about the boy.  I don't
think he had any complaints, though.

In fact, none of the boys were ever dissatisfied with my services.
They all knew what to expect, thanks to Miguel and, no doubt, to word
of mouth from my previous conquests.  The only thing a boy was
required to do was let me suck his dick, as many times as I wanted.
I wanted some of them to fuck me, but they could say no if they
wanted.  A few, like Carlos, I asked to kiss me, but, again, they
weren't obligated.  So long as they kept pumping out the goo, we were
both happy.  One time though, when I went to meet Miguel I thought
he'd made a terrible mistake.  The little boy he had with him looked
to be no more than eight or nine.  He couldn't possibly make sperm.

"Uh, Miguel.  What's going on?  Isn't this one a little young?"  I
smiled at the child so as not to upset him, but I couldn't possibly
go with such a youngster.  He returned a small grin, then instantly
turned away, overcome by shyness.

"He's old enough."  Miguel was unfazed.

"What is he--ten?"

"No. He's twelve."

I turned and studied the boy.  "Are you really twelve?"  He overcame
his shyness long enough to give a bashful nod.  He was barely four
feet tall and probably  topped out at eighty pounds.  He was cute,
but he no more looked sexually capable than my four year old son.

"But Miguel.  OK, maybe he's twelve.  But he's still too young, isn't
he?  I mean, he can't shoot, can he?"

"Yeah.  He can."

"How do you know?"  I knew Miguel never fooled around with the kids
himself.

"His brother told me."

"Who's his brother?  Do I know him?"

"Yeah.  Luis.  You did him a couple months ago.  You said you liked
him."  I remembered Luis.  He was a sturdy, smiling kid with a nice
big one, and I had liked him. I liked the way he fucked me too.
Still, that didn't prove much about his little brother.

"What's your name, little one?" I asked the boy.

"Jose," he barely whispered.  What a surprise.

"Can you really come, Jose?"

Jose looked up at Miguel.  He didn't understand the question.  Miguel
leaned down and repeated it to him in Spanish.  The boy looked
mortified and whispered his reply to Miguel so quietly I couldn't hear.

"What did he say?"

"He said 'Yeah. A little.'"  Well, that was something.

"Does he have any hair?"

Again Miguel leaned down to ask the boy, to receive another whispered
response.  "A little."  Miguel shrugged.

Jose was so embarrassed he refused to look at me.  I crouched down be
at his level.  I had to grab hold of his arms to turn him to face
me.  "Jose, do you know what it is that I like to do?"

He hesitated then barely spoke.  "Si."

As best I remembered, his brother spoke English.  "Do you speak
English, Jose?"

"Si." He almost smiled as he realized what he'd said.  "Yes."

"So you know what I want to do, Jose?"

He nodded weakly.  "Yes."  I could barely hear him, not ten inches away.

"Are you sure you want to go with me, Jose?"

"Yes."

"You're sure?  You don't have to."

"Yes."

I stood up.  I had no good reason to turn the kid down.  Well, none
except every law known to God or man.  Besides--and, yes, even I am
ashamed to admit this--the idea of fooling around with a kid so young
was beginning to appeal to me.  So long as he was capable and
willing, who was I to tell him no.  I turned back to Miguel, perhaps
deep down hoping he'd stop me.  "I guess he's OK.  You sure this is
all right?"

Miguel shrugged.  "It's up to you.  It ain't no different than the
other kids.  What's the difference?"

"He's so young."

Miguel merely shrugged again and gave a small snort.  Maybe I was
projecting, but I assumed he was thinking it was a little late in the
day for me to grow a conscience.  I know I was thinking that.  Fuck
it.  I paid Miguel and ushered Jose to the car, halfway wondering if
I should use the child safety seat I had in the trunk.

I didn't touch Jose once I had him buckled in, and my small attempts
at conversation went nowhere.  I turned often to smile at him--
reassuringly, I hoped--but he didn't respond.  On the other hand, he
didn't look terrified, either, merely painfully shy and embarrassed.
As we arrived I prayed that today, of all days, no one would see us
at the motel.  Even Shondra, or others who might know about me, might
very well think I'd gone too far this time.  If even I felt I'd
crossed the line, how could I expect anyone else to think otherwise?
To my relief, the lot was empty.  I must live right.

Once in the room I couldn't think what else to do with Jose but sit
him on my lap,  I sat down on the edge of the bed and hoisted him up.
It felt like I was holding a medium-sized teddy bear.  I had placed
him facing to the side, and I was a little bit encouraged that,
without me asking, he put his arm around my neck. I rubbed his leg
lightly as I made small talk, asking him about his school, and his
friends, and whatever I thought might make him comfortable.  He did
actually seem to relax.  He answered my questions in a tiny voice,
barely above a whisper, and I even managed to coax a smile or two out
of him.  I dredged up anything I could remember about his brother and
asked about him.  I came to find out that Luis had practically
insisted that Jose go with me, assuring him that it would be fun and
would be an easy way to make a lot of money.  Apparently Luis had had
to work hard to convince Miguel to offer Jose to me.

Gradually I turned the conversation in a smuttier direction.  I
doubted that Jose had any experience with other guys, or girls, and
if he did I didn't want to know about it.  But I asked him, subtly I
thought, about his dick, and jerking off, and how much he knew about
this and that.  He was practically paralyzed by embarrassment, but
with gentle prodding I got a few answers.  At the same time, I was
working my hand upward, until I was brushing my fingertips over the
small mound between Jose's legs. Unexpectedly, I felt my own cock
jump in my pants.  I think I was stimulated by the incongruity:  Jose
was barely bigger than a toddler, yet this little child was a sexual
creature, the owner of a fully functional penis, able to ejaculate
(so he said), to send, presumably, millions of tiny sperms on their
futile journey.  Jose didn't react as I began to touch his bulge, so
I began to rub harder, using my whole hand.  The only result was an
almost imperceptible widening of his legs.  Far from being horrified,
Jose wanted more, if only subconsciously.

I grasped the tab of Jose's zipper and looked up at him, asking him
if it was OK.  He knew it was what he was there for, but it obviously
pained him to give a small nod.  My cock lurched as I eased open his
pants.  I reached in his fly and downward, to cup the small handful
of his cotton-covered genitals. I was surprised at the intensity of
my reaction:  I felt my face flush as lust washed over me.  I didn't
want to move Jose off my lap--I loved having his tiny butt pressing
down on my cock, so I unfastened his belt and his pants button and
worked his jeans down without raising him up.  To my surprise, Jose
was wearing red briefs.  Most of the boys wore ordinary white ones, a
few, boxers instead.  Only one other boy had worn colored jockeys,
and I don't think it was Luis.  I suppose I was lucky that Jose's
undershorts didn't have Barney the Dinosaur on them.

I cradled the small red pouch in my hand, gently squeezing it.  Jose
gave no sign that he was upset by my actions, so I kneaded a little
bit more firmly.  I was sure I could feel a slight hardening.  With
shaky hands, I reached down to remove Jose's sneakers and pull his
pants all the way off.  I sensed a tightness in my chest and my head
buzzed.  I felt as if I were watching someone else as I stuck two
fingers of each hand into the waistband of Jose's briefs and slowly
pulled them down.  Jose put his free hand on my knee to raise himself
up enough for the underwear to clear his little rump

I wish I could tell you that I found a plump five-inch sausage
between Jose's legs.  Or maybe I don't.  What I found there was
pretty much what I really expected.  It was small, there's no
question about it, a thin, delicate, little pink tube, slightly
bigger than a roll of nickels, a short nipple of foreskin capping its
blunt end.  And yet, it wasn't a prepubescent, little-boy penis.  It
unmistakably gave evidence that somewhere deep in Jose's system his
hormones had awakened and begun their monumental task of turning a
boy into a man.  Jose's dick had probably only begun to grow a month
or two earlier, but begin it had.  The scrotum too wasn't the
crinkled half-walnut-shell of a child, but had begun to loosen and
drop.  I could pinch a fold or two of its soft skin between my fingers.

I took Jose's dick between my fingertips and gave it a soft squeeze.
It wasn't truly hard yet, but spongy-firm.  Pulling the sheath
downward as far as it would easily go, I uncovered the little pink
acorn of a head:  it looked moist and shiny.  I pulled up to cover it
again and began a slow gentle masturbation of the unresisting boy.
Remembering Jose's claim of having pubic hair, I ran my thumb across
the smooth area above his cock and detected the slightest trace of
fuzz, though nothing was visible.  Although I always like to be
prepared, I had never thought to bring a magnifying glass.  Swiveling
on the bed to face the lamp, I leaned in close for a better look.
Sure enough, about a dozen dark hairs dotted the region, each about
an eighth of an each long.  I looked up at Jose:  he knew what I was
searching for and wore a look of serious concern.  I laughed and
hugged him closer.

"It's OK, Jose.  I see 'em.  I know you weren't lying."  He rewarded
me with a sheepish smile.

"I'm surprised you knew they were there.  How long have they been
there, about a week?" I asked.

He nodded and whispered his reply.  "About.  Maybe a little more."

I continued to toy with his tender little sprout.  Silly as it
sounds, I didn't know what to do with it.  Jose--and his penis--
seemed so fragile, so delicate, that the last thing I wanted to do
was risk hurting him.  Blowing him, or even jerking him off, seemed
too rough. Still, we were there to have sex, and I can't pretend I
didn't want to.  As for Jose, while I can't say for sure that he was
eager, he knew it was expected, and seemed at least willing.  I had
him lay back on the bed and spread his legs.  I got between them,
leaned forward, an began by merely kissing his soft little bits, then
quickly progressed to licking them.  Once I started I couldn't stop.
I licked up, down, around, softly, firmly, quickly, slowly, wetly.  I
teased the little triangle behind his balls with my tongue and was
rewarded with a soft giggle.  I looked up at Jose.  "Does that
tickle?"   He nodded.  Turning my attention back to his dick, I
flicked it back and forth with my tongue.  I was pretty sure he'd
never come from tongue action alone, so I took the little spur
between my lips and sucked on it lightly for a few moments.  I knew
that if Jose could really produce semen at all, it wouldn't be very
much and I wanted to see it, so I went back to masturbating him,
using just my fingertips, but a little more pressure than before.
Soon I could tell my the pulsing in the little organ that his orgasm
was imminent.  Jose made a small sound--I couldn't tell if he said
something or it was an involuntary cry-- and, with a final throb, his
penis sent forth a single glob of translucent fluid.  I pushed Jose's
foreskin up far enough to form a tiny cup to hold the thin juice and
looked at it.  I don't know how many actual microscopic sperm cells
it contained--maybe none--but it was certifiably real seminal fluid.
No doubt about it, Jose had really come, just like the big boys.  I
leaned in and sipped down his offering.  It had no taste whatsoever,
only a slight stickiness which lingered briefly on my tongue.

I moved up and cuddled Jose, hugging him close to me.  "You did it,
Jose.  I didn't really think you could, but you did.  That was
great."  He smiled--shyly, of course, but with a little bit of pride
mixed in.  Gazing at his sweet face, I couldn't resist and leaned
forward to kiss him on the lips.  I applied some pressure with my
tongue, hoping he would open his mouth, but not forcing him.  To my
delight, he parted his lips enough for me to push my tongue between
them and past his teeth.  I sought out his tongue and coaxed it into
responding.  Jose was no expert, but the deep clumsy kiss we shared
for a few moments was one of the most satisfying of my life.

Suddenly, in a frenzy, I knew I had to tend to the needs on my own
impatient cock.  I let go of Jose to tear open my pants, and push
them down.  Grabbing hold of my leaking prick I flogged away at it,
opening my shirt with my other hand.  I glanced over at Jose;  He was
watching me wide-eyed, fascinated by my masturbation.  Not expecting
much I asked him,"Will you help me?"  Jose looked up at me,
uncomprehending.

"Will you do it for me, Jose?  Will you jerk me off?  You don't have
to, but I'd really like it."  Tentatively, he reached out one little
hand, hesitated, and then took firm hold of my shaft.  He couldn't
reach his tiny fingers all the way around it (and I'm not all that
thick). but their damp softness were enough to send me over the edge,
flooding my chest with semen after only four or five shakes of Jose's
arm.  The instant I started to come, he drew back his hand in alarm,
and I had to finish the process myself, but I didn't mind.  I was
happy to have as much participation from him as I did.  When I was
finished coming, I smiled at Jose and let out a loud, comically
exaggerated "AHHHHHH."  He giggled and said "You did a lot."  It was
the first comment he'd volunteered all afternoon not in response to a
direct question.

I asked Jose to get me some tissue and a towel and he ran to the
bathroom to comply.  He was still wearing his teeshirt and his socks,
but was otherwise naked, so I got to admire his cute little butt as
he ran..  I was sure it was small enough for me to cup in one of my
hands.  After I'd cleaned off, Jose climbed back on the bed and I
cuddled with him for a while, just enjoying the closeness.  It was
not unlike the feeling I had when cuddling with my own son at home,
except for the added erotic component.  Despite my attraction to
young boys, I've never felt even a hint of desire for my son, and
never expect to.  But holding Jose's childlike body next to mine,
also knowing that I'd just had sex with him and might again, was an
emotional experience I'd never had before.

I didn't dare take Jose out of the room to get something to eat, so I
asked him if he'd be OK in the room alone while I went for the food.
He said he would.  I asked him what he wanted to eat, sure I knew the
answer, but he surprised me. He thought a moment, then looked up at
me bashfully and peeped, "Could we have pizza?"  I laughed and
assured him we could.  I drove to a Pizza Hut, just up the block from
the McDonalds, and back, uneventfully.  When I got back to the room,
Jose had put his briefs back on and was laying on the bed,
contentedly watching cartoons. After finishing the food, I spent most
of the rest of the afternoon watching TV, me laying on my back
holding Jose snugly on top of me with both arms wrapped around his
skinny chest.  I wouldn't have dreamed of letting Jose watch the
porno channels, so we watched whatever junky kid's shows we could find.

Eventually, of course, I couldn't help but send my hands downward to
begin fondling Jose's crotch again.  Before long he stiffened, and i
moved down between his legs again, slipping his briefs back off.  I
played with him for the better part of an hour, alternately
masturbating him and gently sucking him.   In due course he reached
another small climax, but I couldn't detect any liquid proof of it.
He said he felt good, though, and that was good enough for me.

Jose cleaned himself up, dressed, and silently rejoiced in the wad of
money I gave him.  I stole another deep kiss from him before hurrying
him to the car, my heart in my mouth.  We were a block away from the
motel before I could finally breathe:  we had made a clean getaway.
I drove Jose back to his neighborhood, but as he was getting out of
the car I had to ask him again.  "Jose, are you really twelve?'

He looked at me in surprise.  "Yes."  He was closing the door.
"Almost."


         To be continued.........

Comments, please.          grubsnort@comcast.net         (Captain Swing)