Date: Sun, 11 Apr 2010 16:03:34 -0700
From: Jay roberts <diplomat1501@msn.com>
Subject: "Boys for Bucks, Part One"  by Jay Roberts    Gay Encounters

******I don't know what you young kids will make of this title, but if you
are under 18, please do not stay to find out.  Those wise, over 18 year
olds are already smiling.  They know!!



Get this straight!  I don't fool around with underage boys.  I'm only
twenty one myself, handsome, blond and can get man to man sex whenever I
want it, BUT, there is something about rough street kids in their late
teens.  They are so careful to be tough, never to display any behavior that
might give another kid a reason to think that they might be queer bait.

They strut when they walk.  They roll up their sleeves to show their muscle
and maybe a tattoo.  They thrust their pelvis out to display their big
cocks.  They snarl, rather than talk and they press their voice down to a
low growl.  But a few years ago they were just young kids, kids that needed
a mother's hug.  Sure, they erased that tenderness from their memories, but
folks, it's still there, waiting to be displayed.  Probably to their horror
they still retain many of their young boyish traits.  You can see it in
their smooth, skin, bright eyes and white teeth.

How do you get their tender part of them up and out again.  There is only
one answer.  They need that cover, it protects them and excuses them.  That
answer is money.  And I have lots of money.  I live on a generous trust
fund.  I mean to use that as my tool to make these boys do what I want.

I drive a 1970 Camaro, often a teen's dream car.  It has been perfectly
restored and looks new.  The only non-standard thing is that it is painted
with a gold fleck finish.  That crazy desire of mine cost almost six
hundred dollars, but at the moment, it is impressing three young guys, one
lounging against my car door as I exited a dance club in the downtown area.

"Nice ride mister." said in an almost mocking voice by a giant of a kid.  I
thought he resembled a young genii what with his downturn moustache swarthy
coloring and powerful body.  He had a black knit hat pulled over his ears,
but his earrings of a skull hung below.

I nodded and said, "I hope you didn't scratch that door you're leaning on."

The big young guy smiled broadly at me.  "Hey, I think there's some bird
shit over there."

He rubbed a spot with his sleeve.  The two other guys laughed uproariously
at his dim joke.  I think they were glad to see a relaxation of tension.

One of the other boys, a pretty blond kid with slight acne on his chin, say
in a teen voice, slightly husky.  I love that kind of voice.  "You just
been in that gay club?"

"Yeah, I do their books.  I'm an accountant," I lied.

The third boy, a slim Chinese kid snorted in amusement.  "What else do you
do?"

I was really pleased that the gay sex idea was out in the open without me
having to introduce it.  I was intrigued with these super attractive boys.
I decided to get my campaign started.  "Hey guys, my name if Robert.  You?"

The big guy was first to offer his big ham-like hand.  I noticed three big
silver rings on his hand.  He grunted, "Nazzer."  I wondered the national
origin of the name.  Egyptian?  Turkish?

The Chinese boy just bumped fists.  "Lee."

The other kid, the one I was fast falling into lust with, the blond moved
up to be close to me and spit out, "I ain't no queer, so you can go on your
way."

"I'm am leaving if Nazzer moves away from my car door, but just for the
record, what's your name boy?"

He paused, a long time, then reluctantly said, "Jeff."

Nazzer unblocked my car door and ambled a distance away followed by the
Lee.  Jeff was still near the car, out of earshot of the others.  I took a
chance.  "Jeff, meet me here, same place tomorrow night.  I have a way for
you to make a lot of dough."

He looked sideways at me.  Oh how cute.  "The only way you can make money
for me is to make a buy."  He patted the pocket of his cargo pants that was
bulging with its contents.  "I don't sell myself.  I ain't a punk."

As I settled myself in my car seat, I called back softly.  "Be here!"



I parked my car in the same spot and waited.  In my rearview mirror I could
see Jeff ambling toward the car, very slowly and reluctantly.  When he was
on the sidewalk, at the passenger window.  I lower it.  "Get in!"  I said
this with authority and to my surprise, he opened the door and fell into
the seat.  That's what everyone does.  It's low and slanted back.

He was wearing ripped jeans, a wife beater jersey.  His clothes could have
used a washing.  They had an oily smell.  He had done something with his
appearance however.  He looked cleaner, more like a teenage movie star.  I
stared at him.  I got it!  He had used some cover over his chin pimples and
he had shaved clean.

As soon as he was in the seat, he started giving orders.  "Don't start the
car.  If you both me, I got a knife here.  I don't do queer stuff, but tell
me, how can I make dough?"

"Let me explain.  If I swear not to touch your body and I keep my clothes
on, will you give it a try?"

"Well, for taking off your clothes, $100."

He pursed out his lips.  "And I don't have to do anything, just get
undressed?"

"Right, you'll stay that way for fifteen minutes, then dress and go."

"Okay, let's go before my guys come here.  Where're going exactly?"

"Just two blocks from here.  My apartment."

We pulled in to the underground garage.  My boy was getting a little
worried.  He took out his knife, and placed it on his lap, it was one of
those switch blades but it was still closed.  I told him to follow me to
the elevator.  In that small space I could smell him.  He was clean, but he
was sweating slightly and had that young man smell.  His clothes probably
could use a washing.

The elevator stopped at my floor.  I quickly crossed the floor and opened
the door of my apartment and held it for him.  He entered slowly, his head
swivelling around.  I guess the place may have been impressive for a poor
kid, what with my paintings and modern furniture, but to me, it was fairly
modest, only one bedroom and one bath, besides an unused kitchen.  The
living room was were we were now.

"Want a drink" Would you rather have a smoke?  I have the best."

Jeff and I were just standing there.  He was waiting for me to tell him the
next move and I was waiting to here his choice.

Finally he said in that great, slightly uneven adolescent voice, "How about
a beer and a toke?"

"Fine," I said.  Sit on the couch, open the box on the coffee table,
there's made smokes there.  I'll get two beers from us.

Beer was about all I had in the big double, stainless steel refrigerator.
I snapped the covers off two and returned to the living room.  Jeff was
sitting in a forward stiff position on the couch.  I handed him a beer.  I
noticed his hand was shaking as he took it.

"Robert, I never did anything like this.  I think, maybe I shouldn't.  I
don't like the idea of you, a queer, staring at me naked.  It's very gay."
He quiet for a moment, "Shit I do need money."

He opened the box in front of him.  "Hey, these are made like regular
cigarettes.  Neat."

"Yeah, I can tell you where to get them, they're kind of expensive, but
they are made of the best shit."

He offered the box to me, but I waved it away.  He shrugged and took one
and lit it with the marble lighter on the table.  He was an experienced
smoker.  He took a deep drag.  I almost called out that he ought to be more
cautious with this stuff.

As he held the smoke, his eyes opened wide.  He expelled the smoke with a
big rush and his pretty puffy lips broke into a wide grin.  "Wowie.  This
is the real McCoy!"

I wonder if he realized the effect that one puff had on him.  His voice was
slightly slurred and mellow.  It was fucking cute.  He took a few more
drags and then put the joint into an ashtray, looked at me, shrugged, his
face in a lopsided smile and wiped off his tee shirt, and was careful not
to dislodge his knit hat. The shirt was a long sleeve type.  I was treated
with a great sight.  Although the boy was slim his arms were nicely
muscles, he had full forearms and a nice muscle that pumped up and down as
he undressed.  His chest was hairless, and flat, no big pecs.  I liked
that.  It was youthful.  But his skin texture was silky and the skin pale
and flawless.

"You should be proud.  You got a good upper body, " I said, trying to keep
my remarks neutral so as not to spook him.

He nodded and frowned.  He didn't like me remarking about him, but he
kicked off the rubber slides he was wearing.  I noted he had not worn the
high tops and sweat socks that I had seen him wear when I first saw him in
front of the night club.  Had he planned to wear something that was easy to
remove?

He was slow to push down his jeans.  True, he wore them tight, tight enough
to hug his ass and into the crack.  As the pants came down, he revealed a
surprise.  Although the rest of his body was hairless (except the vital
spots) his legs were fuzzy with long blond curlies.  The light picked up
the highlights.  Also his legs were tanned.  I guess he were shorts
usually.

Now he stood in front of me in his black knit boxer shorts.  I took his
feet.  Oh my, they were the kind that sculptors portrait, high arched and
long toed.  I was not a toe licker, but the thought passed through my mind,
besides I had promised not to touch him.

He stood there.  I moved my hand, palm upwards, suggesting that he
continue.  He was blushing.  Oh how fabulous that I was witnessing this.
"Er," he said, then a few more "Er's."

"What wrong?" I asked.  Oh to be at the crest of the hill and not proceed.
I was getting worried.

"My stuff."

"What about it?"

"It's not too big.  I guess you want to get your eye full and your money's
worth."

"I'm sure it's fine.  I wasn't looking to see a freakish monster.  Come on,
off with the shorts!"

He signed with resignation.  Do you realize that we had a intimate
closeness here.  I bet he would never had said it concern about his penis
to anyone else on Earth.  I was thrilled.  He turned away from me and bent
over as he brought he black shorts down.  Of course, he didn't realize that
he was giving me a show anyway.  His ass belonged in a museum.  It was
pure, smooth, tight perfection and as an added bonus, as he bent, he
exposed his ass crack.  Another surprise!  It was lined with curly blond
hair!

Then he slowly turned.  I let out the breath I had been holding.  "It's a
beaut.  Didn't you know that?"

The kid blushed again and smiled.  "You think so?  Isn't it small?  And my
balls kinda small?"

"You're nuts.  Your ball sac even hangs down a bit, and your cock is very
well shaped, and I see you are circumcised.  How come?"

For the moment, to answer the question, he forgot that he was naked in
front of a stranger. He was so comfortable that he absent mindedly
scratched under his balls.  To paraphrase Shakespeare, 'Oh that I were a
glove upon that hand that I might scratch under those balls.'

He answered my question.  "We come from English stock.  My mum says that
the boys in England copy the queen who has her males cut."

Then he sort of came into the reality of the situation.  He knew that it
was almost time to end the session, but a strange thing happened.  My
looking at his stuff and talking about it, had made it thicken slightly.  I
had an idea.

"Jeff, would you like to see some porno?"  I pointed to my forty foot
plasma screen.

He revealed himself as a horny kid as he say, in an animated tone, "Sure,
what you got?"

Watching his hand go to his cock, I knew I was on to something.  "I got man
with woman fucking, two women getting it on, threesomes and all male."

"I guess normal sex is the hottest for me.  Can I get dressed now?"

"Let me put the disc on.  As far as getting dressed, it's easier to work
your stuff without clothes, and if you wipe one off in front of me, you
will have earned two hundred dollars more.  What do you say?  Here have
more beer and another joint.  Have a party."

End Part One

Did Jeff agree?  What about his friends, will he tell them about his
experience with me?