Date: Tue, 30 Dec 2003 15:34:56 +0000
From: Jonathan H. <swimbttm@hotmail.com>
Subject: Finding a Boy, Part 1

1.

I first saw James in a hustler bar. He was, needless to say, one of
the rent boys. He was short -- about 5'4", and very compact, maybe 110
at most. He looked like a gymnast, with a tightly muscled body and an
ass you could admire for hours. To be honest, I didn't even notice him
at first. It was my last night in New Orleans, and I was trying to
find something pretty sleazy and decadent. The bar was packed that
night, and I must have missed him at first. One more young boy in a
torn pair of jeans, wife beater and a shirt. For the most part, they
seemed more or less interchangeable; their rates all about the same,
their lines as well.

James first came to my attention when I went to take a piss. He was in
the restroom, on his knees. He was busy sucking off an older
guy. There was only one good thing about the older guy; he was a little
overweight, balding (and afraid to show it), badly dressed, and it
seemed, had a distinct odor. Although the smell could have been the
bathroom; it was hard to tell. On the other hand, he had one of the
biggest cocks I had seen recently. Fat and long, it also had a pair of
balls to match. If the guy had been at all good looking, he would have
had an amazing career as a porn star. Perhaps he had earlier; he
seemed like he was at least in his mid fifties.

He had his pants open just enough for his cock and balls to hang out,
leaning up against a wall, James looked like the little whore he was
down on his knees giving him a blow job. I watched long enough to see
that he was having no problems going all the way down on the guy's fat
11" cock. As I stood at the urinal, I could hear him gagging at times
on the old guy's cock. In between gags, I could hear the old guy doing
hits of poppers, as well as the guy at the urinal next to me offering
me a bump of some drug or another. Given that I had come here looking
for something sleazy and decadent, it was just about perfect. It was
hard not to spring something of a boner just standing there pissing.

I finished up my business, and headed back to the bar. I got a beer,
and headed to one of the back tables, watching the slow dances
happening around me. One of the hustlers would come up to a guy, they
would talk, then either leave together, or separate, the hustler going
to another guy, the guy always staying where he was. As I was nursing
my beer, I saw the troll come out of the bathroom. His cock really was
his only redeeming feature; even in the dim light of the bar, I could
see how ratty his clothes were, and his hair had that unique texture
that came from not bathing frequently. He didn't even stop on his way
out, and went straight out the door. About thirty seconds later, James
walked out of the bathroom. I noticed he had damp spots on his knees,
and laughed silently to myself. It was painfully obvious to anyone he
had just been on his knees, sucking a guy off. He looked around the
bar, and as he scanned past me, I raised my beer to him. He smiled and
came over to my table.

"Hi," I said.

"Hey," he answered. He had a slight southern drawl. Not surprising,
this being New Orleans and all, but it did make him a lot cuter.

"You were pretty impressive in there," I said.

"Thanks. I try." He pulled up one of the bar stools, and sat down in
it. I moved over next to him.

"I'm Mark. What's your name."

"James," he said, smiling. I knew I was going to have to take him home
then. There was something about his gymnasts look, coupled with that
smile that made me want him.

"So, James, is that a regular activity of yours?" I asked.

"Yeah, I end up blowing him every two or three days."

I was a little surprised to hear him answer that
straight-forwardly. "Just wondering, did you swallow his cum?" I asked
him.

His smile disappeared. "You're going to have to kiss me to find out," he
said, with almost a tinge of regret in this voice.

I set down my beer, and turned to him. He had pulled up his legs onto
the stool, so I had to stand between them in order to kiss him. I
rested my hands on his knees, and leaned in. As I leaned in, I noticed
his smell. I wouldn't quite say he reeked, but it didn't seem like he
had been able to shower for a few days, nor was that the first time he
had kneeled down in a dirty restroom. The smell was intoxicating to
me. It fired up all sorts of questions about this boy, made me want to
know what he had been through to get to this state.

We kissed. I could feel stubble on his face against my lips, feel his
mouth open to let me in. I knew the answer to my question even before
my tongue entered his mouth -- he had swallowed the guy's cum. I could
smell it on his breath, taste it on his lips -- it was an acrid,
bitter sensation, a mixture of cigarette smoke, a life of bitterness
and too much cheap liquor. As I pushed my tongue into his mouth, the
taste consumed me. I probed around his mouth, trying to taste James,
not his most recent trick. I kept on getting hints of him, a taste of
youth, a taste of desire for something, but I couldn't quite tell what
for. I let my hands drop down as I kissed him, noticing for the first
time the hole in his jeans at the crotch. I let my fingers slip in,
feeling a bit of his taut, warm skin, and what felt like a worn jock
strap.

Just as I was starting to work a finger under his jock strap, he ended
the kiss, gently pushing me out of his mouth. "Does that answer your
question?" he asked.

"Yeah, it does." I wasn't sure how to continue. The taste of the guy's
jizz was still overpowering. I took a swig of beer. "Can I buy you a
drink?"

The smile returned to his face. "That would be great. A white
russian." I flagged down a waiter, and ordered the drink. James had
lowered his legs, and one of them was now gently rubbing against my
legs.

"So, um," I paused, trying to figure out how to say it. "Does he pay
you for blowing him?"

"Of course."

"How much?" At that moment, I realized I wanted him to be a cheap
slut.

"Usually ten dollars. Twenty if I'm lucky." There wasn't much emotion
in his voice. He was cheap.

"Not a lot, really." I said. The waiter brought his drink. It was
already overpriced at six dollars, but the waiter was cute, so I gave
him a ten and told him to keep the change. James took a long sip of
it, and savored it before swallowing. He seemed happy to have a
different taste in his mouth.

"No, but it buys some food." He took another sip of his drink.

"Do you live around here?" I asked.

"Well, I'm sort of between places right now. Sometimes crashing at
friends."

"How much would it cost to take you home with me tonight?" I wanted to
see how cheap he really was, if he had taken the time to size me up,
figure out what I was willing to pay.

"You serious?" he asked.

"Yeah, I am."

"Fifty dollars. You can fuck me, I'll suck you off, whatever."

He was a cheap trick. Fifty dollars was nothing; I had about three
hundred in my wallet. But still, something about the way he had sucked
off the old guy made me think it wasn't entirely about the money, and
I wanted to see what he would do. "Hmmm," I paused for a second, "You
are very hot, but..." I trailed off. I wondered if he would take the
bait.

He took it. "Well, maybe we could work something out. Like forty?"

"Yeah, that should work." I leaned in to kiss him, and he let
me. There wasn't the taste of cum there any more, it was masked by his
drink. It was a much more pleasant experience, exploring his mouth
again. James shifted, pushing himself against my crotch. It was hard
not to spring an erection feeling him push himself onto me. I let him
do it, then broke off the kiss.

"Do you have a place near here?" he asked me. He finished off his drink.

"Yeah, I'm in a hotel nearby. It's only a few blocks away."

"Well, what are we doing waiting?" James got up from his chair, and
made to get ready. I took one more swig from my beer, then also
started to leave. James followed me. At the door, he grabbed one of
the packets of condoms and lube, and we went out onto the street. It
was still pretty early, so there were a fair number of people on the
street. I was a little surprised though, by how cold it was out. James
was walking right beside me.

"How long have you lived here?" I asked.

"About three years now."

"How old are you?" I was trying to figure out a little bit of his life
story, how he got himself here.

"Don't worry. I'm legal. I'm 19." He laughed. I noticed just how short
he was -- maybe 5'4" at best. He barely came up to my chest.

"Where did you grow up?" I was wondering about the accent, why he came
here.

"Rural Georgia. I ran away from home, but don't really want to talk
about it." There was a tinge of regret, sadness, maybe fear in his
voice. "What do you want to do tonight?" he asked, clearly trying to
change the subject. Even so, there was a weird hollowness to it, like
he was trying to avoid something.

"I've been here for a week now, and not gotten off once. I think even
a handjob would make me happy."

"Well, I think we can do more than that. I'm here to for your
pleasure."

"That's what I was hoping. I've probably got two or three loads in me
tonight."

"Even better. We should have fun tonight." We walked some in silence,
and quickly arrived at the hotel. It was a fairly standard business
hotel, nothing too ornate. "Wow, this is nice," James said. We walked
through the lobby, and no one even noticed us. The elevators were
fairly deserted, and we got in one alone. There were mirrors all over
the elevator, and he looked around at all of the reflections of
himself.

"Take off your shirt."

"Here?"

"Yes. Now." I hoped he was able to follow simple commands, otherwise
tonight was going to be difficult for both of us. Luckily, he was
good, and pulled off his shirt. He had a dirty wife-beater on under
it. "That as well." He took it off too. He had a nice body, defined,
but not overly so, a light dusting of hair on his pecs and a treasure
trail down to his jeans. The jockstrap was just peeking out above the
jeans.

"You like?" he asked, turning around slowly. I think part of it was
just to see himself in the mirrors; he slowly flexed his muscles,
showing off his body.

"Yes. Very nice. Now, unzip your fly."

"Here? But we're in public."

"Yea, here. Didn't seem to bother you when you were sucking that guy
off." He slowly undid his fly. For all of his protestations, there was a
pretty obvious lump in the pouch of his jock. "Nice," I said, "Turn
around." He did, slowly, trying to keep his pants from sliding off his
thin hips. Even through the jeans, it was easy to tell he had a nice
ass. I was looking forward to tonight.

The elevator reached my floor, and the doors opened. James fumbled for
his zipper as I walked out. "I didn't tell you to zip it back up," I
said. He stopped trying to zip up his jeans, and instead, just held up
his pants. For his sake, my room wasn't that far away, but still, by
the time we got to the door, the pants had fallen halfway down his
thigh. I opened the door, and motioned for him to go in. He did, and I
followed. As the door shut behind us, I pulled out my wallet, "I guess
it's time to pay, huh."

"Yeah," he said. He dropped his shirt and tank on the floor, and
stopped trying to hold up his jeans. They fell to around his
ankles.

"Forty dollars, right?"

"Yeah, it's going to be worth it." He watched as I opened my wallet. I
think I still had $300 in hundreds there, as well as some twenties. I
pulled out two twenties. It was hard to read his face as he saw the
money, and I handed him only two twenties. "Dude, you could have
afforded more than fifty." Still, he put the money in his pants.

"Yeah, I know. But I like cheap sluts." We stood there a few seconds,
staring at each other. "Take off your shoes and pants, and let's get
started." He continued to look at me; I could see indecision flicker
across his face. This was quickly turning into a battle of wits, and I
knew I was going to win. His only option was much worse than
mine. After a few seconds, he quietly kneeled down and untied his
shoes and took them off. When he stood up, he shook off his pants, and
stood before me with just the jock strap. He was very hot standing
there. I reached out and pulled on his nipple, watching him. He closed
his eyes, and a small smile appeared on his face.

"Turn around," I told him. He turned around slowly. His back was
well-defined, and his ass was almost perfect. The jockstrap framed his
two cheeks ideally, and I wanted nothing more than to sink my shaft
into him right then. "Bend over." He did, spreading his legs slightly,
and reaching for his ankles. He might have been on the younger side,
but he was well-practiced at this. His cheeks spread slightly, letting
me see his hole, nicely tufted with a bit of hair. I gave his ass a
slap, and told him to stand up.

"So, do you like what you see?" he asked.

"Oh yes. Quite nice."

"What's next?"

I went over to the desk and sat down in the chair, leaning back a bit,
spreading my legs. I undid my belt and unzipped my pants. I had gone
to the bar commando, so I pulled on my cock. James's little show had
started to get me hard, so it was already a decent length. "Show me
how good of a cocksucker you are."

He came over to me and kneeled down in front of me. I was expecting
him to go for my cock, but instead, the first thing he did was to take
off my shoes and socks. He put them to the side, then pulled off my
pants. Only then, when I was naked from the waist down, did he turn
his attention to my cock. He started slowly, taking it by the base and
looking at it, getting to know it. Only then did he gently lick the
tip, getting a drop of my pre-cum that had formed there. I think I was
just overly horny, but the touch of his tongue on my dick was
electric, and it stiffened almost immediately. He licked up the
pre-cum, then started to slowly work his way down my shaft.

He was a very good cocksucker actually -- he had impeccable timing,
always knowing when to go down on my shaft, when to pull back and work
on the dickhead. I had worried that he might prove to be a cockteaser,
licking the head and not much else, but James was very much into my
cock, burying his nose into my pubes on a regular basis. I just leaned
back, and let him suck on my dick for a while. He seemed not to need
to breathe at all, sometimes going all the way down and holding it for
what seemed like minutes, then slowly pulling off.

After about fifteen minutes of this, I tried an experiment. The next
time he went down on my cock, I put my hand on the back of his head,
holding him down. He made no move to stop me, and I held him in place
for nearly thirty seconds. It was me who let him off, wanting to feel
his talented tongue on my head one more time. As I took my hand off of
his head, he reached for it, and guided it back onto his head.

I took his lead, and began to force him down onto my shaft, pacing the
strokes according to my pleasure rather than his. Occasionally, he
would misjudge a thrust and gag slightly, but he didn't complain, and
the gagging really only turned me on more. I stood up, to get better
leverage into his mouth and throat, and he never let my cock fall
out. We worked together for another five minutes or so, getting to
know his throat, getting to know my cock.

I took off my shirt, throwing it into a corner, then took off my
watch, and let it fall gently onto my pants. I was now nude, although
he still had on his jockstrap. I pulled him off of my cock -- I was
getting a little more aroused than I wanted, and needed a break.

"Did it measure up?"

"Yes, boy, more than I had expected."

"Good. You have a cock," he pause and looked me over, "and a body
worthy of worship."

The not-so-subtle flattery was appreciated. I spent 6 days a week at
the gym to get my body, so it was nice to hear someone else comment on
it, even if I was paying him. Of course, my boyfriend back home also
seemed to like me. "Well, I certainly enjoyed."

"But, I think you want to try something else." He was still kneeling
down in front of me, looking up at me. His arms were wrapped around
me, his hands gently massaging my ass.

"Yeah, I do." From the very beginning of his blow job, all I could
think about was what his ass was going to feel like. I wanted to feel
his body underneath mine, the two of us connected like one.

"Good. Me too. It's not often I want someone to fuck me, but I really
want you to." It was hard to tell if that was a line he used on every
john, but he sounded sincere, and I took it for face value. He ran his
face along my cock. "I want to feel it in me."

I didn't need much more prompting. I grabbed a bottle of lube out of
my bag and tossed it to him. "Get on the bed and lube yourself up." I
said. I turned off some of the lights as he got onto the bed. He was
young and lithe enough that there was a physical pleasure in watching
him move. He got onto the bed, got down on all fours, and began to rub
the slippery liquid onto his hole, letting a finger slip into him
occasionally.

I stood and watched him finger himself for a bit. He slowly but
methodically worked in one, then two fingers. From the moans he was
making, he was clearly enjoying himself, and I was too. He knew what
he enjoyed, and he was giving himself at least a version of that
pleasure. I grabbed a few condoms out of my bag, and got on the bed
behind him. He paused his explorations just long enough to hand me the
bottle of lube. I squirted some of it in my hand, and added one of my
fingers to his hole.

He had managed to loosen himself up nicely, and my finger slipped in
with only a slight resistance. He was warm and tight, and I wanted to
feel my cock in there, see how deep I could push myself into him. As
we both pushed our fingers into him, his moans slowed, and in a quiet
voice asked, "Fuck me please, daddy."

"Are you ready for it, boy?" I asked. I pulled my finger out of him,
and poured a little lube on my cock. I started to stroke my cock,
getting it hard and ready for the eventual penetration.

"Yes. Please. I need you in me now." It was no longer a plea, there
was the hint of demand in his voice now. Of course, this did much to
stiffen my cock, so I took the condom out of the wrapper and quickly
slid it onto my cock. I poured more lube on my rubberized member, and
kneeled between his legs, letting my cock slide up and down his crack.

I leaned over him, whispering into his ear, "I want to be in you. And
I'm going to fuck you now." As I finished, I nibbled slightly on his
ear, then went back up, grabbing his waist with one hand, and guiding
my cock into him with the other. It took only a single stroke to lance
my way into him.

He gasped at first, moaning, then said, "Thank-you," as he pushed back
against me, pushing me balls-deep into his ass. My cock hand
reflexively grabbed the other side of his waist, and we were quickly
in a rhythm of long strokes into him, my balls slapping against his
ass with every thrust. He took my cock like an expert, squeezing his
ass at just the right moments to hold me in a second longer, then
releasing and letting me slide back out.

I reached under him and felt his cock. It was straining against the
jockstrap, and there was a moist spot at the tip where pre-cum was
leaking out. Just touching it was enough to make him moan, and utter
some unintelligble phrase. I leaned back over his back and whispered
into his ear, "What did you say?"

"Don't touch me. I'm going to cum." I stopped playing with his shaft,
and just wrapped my arm around his chest, holding him tightly as out
fuck continued unabated. He turned his head towards mine, trying to
reach my mouth, trying to kiss me, but unfortunately, our positions
and relative sizes made that impossible. On the next stroke, I let
myself fall out of his ass. "Please, put it back in. I need you in
me."

"Turn over," I said. I'm not sure I ever saw a boy turn over as
quickly as he did. It was like he flipped in mid-air, landing on his
back. I pulled off his jock strap and threw it away, letting his stiff
cock spring free. I grabbed the bottle of lube, and poured some of it
on his cock, and started to stroke him a bit. As I did, he put his
legs up on my shoulder, pulling his ass back against my cock.

"Daddy, I need you in me. Put it in so I can cum." The "daddy" hardly
seemed like an affectation, it was so sincere and serious, that was
how he thought of me. I was getting close to cumming as well, feeling
his ass slide against my shaft wasn't helping, so I didn't feel bad
about granting his wish. I guided my cock back into his warm home, and
we resumed our pace of thrusts. Once more, the return of my cock to
his hole elicted a grunting "Thank-you daddy, Thank-you" from him.

I leaned into him, letting our lips meet. He let me kiss him deeply,
letting my tongue explore where my cock had just been. I could taste
myself in his mouth, the slight tang of my precum all over him. With
one hand, I held his head, steadying it against my fuck to kiss
him. With the other, I reached down and slowly stroked his cock, now
dripping a stream of pre-cum. I could feel myself getting closer to
cumming, and it was getting harder to hold back.

He was clearly feeling the same, his breaths became more abrupt and
shallow. "I'm going to cum, I can't stop it," he said suddenly, then
immediately locked his lips back on mine, once more letting me thrust
my tongue into him.

I broke the kiss long enough to say, "Me too. I want to feel you cum
from the inside. Do it now boy." We returned to kissing, and I stroked
his cock a little harder, a little faster, feeling it thicken and
harden in anticipation of the orgasm. Within moments, I could feel his
first volley of sperm shoot out of his cock. At the same time, the
involuntary spasms that racked his body could be felt by my cock, now
buried deep into him. That was my final straw, and I felt a surge
through my cock and a final thrust into him as I began to shoot.

Once my orgasm began, it was hard for me to focus on anything
else. The animal part of my mind took over, seeking only to maximize
its own pleasure. All I could feel was my own cock pushing it's way
into him, shooting its load, his muscles clamping down around it
holding it in place. I was only dimly aware of James's own spasms, the
spurts of cum he was now depositing into my hand. We seemed to work in
a perfect harmony -- as I flagged slightly, he had a huge thrust,
reviving my orgasm, and vice versa. I couldn't remember the last time
I had shot so long.

But, like most things, it finally had to come to an end. His spurts
became smaller and longer between, as did mine. Even so, we stayed
connected to each other for much longer, his cock in my hand, my cock
in his ass, our tongues in each other's mouths. I continued to
occasionally stroke his cock, his huge load lubricating my hand. As he
did too, sometimes squeezing his ass, as if to just ensure I was still
in there. And soon, the discomfort of the position we were in became
apparent. During the fuck, our arousal masked the pain in my knees,
the cramping in his thighs, but now our physical bodies were
re-asserting themselves.

My drooping cock acted first, popping out of his hole. It brought with
it a balloon-like bag of jizz encased in the condom. I used my non-cum
covered hand to pull it off, and drop it onto the floor. We clumsily
shifted positions, both our minds still fogged by the orgams, ending
up with me on my back, him resting a little on top of me, a little to
my side, his head against my pecs. I was still holding his cum in my
hand, and he noticed it. He grabbed my hand and pulled it close to his
face. "What's this?" he asked.

"Your boycum," I said, opening my hand for the first time. Even I was
a little surprised at how much there was, my hand was covered with
gobs of the thick white cream. He pulled his hand to his face, and
began to lick it off of me greedily. "Hey, leave some for me," I said,
and pulled it back from him. I brought my hand up to my mouth, and
licked some of it up. It was everything cum should be, a little
bitter, a little sweet, reeking of the scents of new manhood. I had no
doubt in my mind that a steady diet of this would be repaid in the
form of longer, harder erections, deeper orgasms, and a constant state
of arousal -- everything that I remembered from my teenage years.

"You like it?" he asked.

"Yes, I do," I said, in between licks of my hand. I gave the hand back
to him, letting him lick the last bits of it off me. After he was
done, I pulled him up to me, and we kissed, tasting now not the bitter
cum of the troll, or the familiar taste of my own, but rather the
youthful vigor of his jizz. We swapped little bits of it back and
forth, laughing as our tongues found pockets of it in each other's
mouths.

After a few minutes, I broke it off, and leaned back. I was silent,
just enjoying the feeling of him against me, the afterglow of the
orgasm, the taste of him in my mouth. He was silent as well, but I
could feel a tension in him still. "Do you want me to leave now?" he
asked. There was a hint of a child's fear in the question, that the
father would abandon the boy.

"No. Stay. I'm not done with you yet." His body noticably relaxed when
I said that, and he held onto me a little tighter. His breathing
against my chest became more regular, and as I wrapped my arm around
him, feeling the warmth of his body, he fell asleep. Warmed by his
embrace, I slept all too soon as well.

--
Author's note: This is the first of several parts. I'd like any
feedback or thoughts people have for me -- still thinking about how
the next few parts should work.