Date: Wed, 20 Nov 2002 10:51:12 -0800 (PST)
From: Jonathan Carter <jonathanclassof99@yahoo.com>
Subject: Street Boi

Street Boi
-- by jonathanclassof99@yahoo.com


Preface: This story is true. It describes an experience I had in the Autumn
of 2002. If descriptions of male sexuality bothers you or offends you,
please read no further.

Before reading this story, readers may be interested in first reading a
story I wrote about a relationship I had my senior year in high school. It
may be read at any nifty.org site:

/nifty/gay/camping/bobby-big-and-tight/

and then reading a story about my Freshman year in college at
/nifty/gay/college/starved-for-attention

I.

What exactly is a bad decision? And who says so? Just because a decision is
primed by Satan's secret weapons of Beer and Boredom doesn't mean it is
necessarily bad for all those involved. As long at nobody gets hurt. Right?
Then why do I feel so horrible as I write this? Why do I need confirmation
from all who read this that everything is okay, was okay, and will be okay?

II.

The decision to cruise for a street hustler a few weekends ago was in some
ways rash, but in so many others ways almost forever anticipated. Yes, at
the moment I made the decision it seemed decisive and startling and
unexpected, but now in retrospect it had been with me for some time - worn
like a hat that fits so well you are no longer conscious of wearing it.

I had had enough. After a couple of abusive relationships and some failed
normal ones, my last failure was almost unbearable. I'd been going out with
a great guy who decided to move to Ohio to persue a job opportunity. I
wasn't going to get on my knees to beg him to stay and wasn't interested in
following him to some shit hole in the Midwest.  Why wasn't I enough to
keep him here? Why was it incumbent upon me to make the emotional appeal to
his heart to make him stay, why wasn't I enough, damn it? So in this fog of
anger I slowly planned my move to the street even as I wasn't aware of why.

Previous to this time, I'd made some good friends on the 'Net, but they are
so damn hard to keep.  They are fun and interesting but never much more
than superficial chatter, or so it sometimes seems. How can I keep my
cyber-friends satisfied when my own "real" relationships are being
fractured like small bones? "Yeah, I'd love to send another email but I
can't, I just can't do it emotionally or physically, my heart is gone I
just can't type another word".  That is what I wanted to say to every one
of my online friends, but they don't need my problems. Who needs to hear
from the AOL man "You've Got Mail.from a depressed loser.please open right
now.aren't you pleased?"

But there was one guy, Arnie, I met online who was in his 50's (and me just
turned 21 year old). He would write long flowing emails about life in the
pre-condom days, when sex was totally wild in New York, LA, and up in
Provincetown. Although he'd lost lots of friends during the outbreak of
AIDS, he still had fond memories of those days of absolute sexual
freedom. But now he lived out his needs as a cruiser. He'd take weekends in
cities up and down the East Coast and pay young men working the streets for
sex. I liked Arnie because he never propositioned me and never expected
anything of me except to listen to his adventures while trading twink pics
online.

It was at the time of my latest breakup that I first started to ask Arnie
more detailed questions about "how it all works", this paying for sex
thing. Arnie indulged me with every particularity and detail of what he
called the "glorious negotiation". He explained how you drive up to one of
these street kids, how you ask, how you set a price, how you let them in
the car, where you park.each and every helpful hint.

After a couple of days of this back and forth, Arnie started getting
curious as to why I was asking so many questions about street sex - he
asked pointedly if I was interested in becoming a hustler..

"Of course not", I told him, but didn't know what else to say, as I didn't
know why I was so interested either.

III.

It was an unusually warm Saturday afternoon this October and Arnie and I
were trading emails and pics and I was really depressed. My ex-boyfriend
had been in Ohio for a week and I was at my emotional bottom so I started
drinking beer around noon. I remember Arnie writing before that he had
cruised in New Haven a couple of times in the previous two years and so I
asked where exactly it was that he picked up these street boys. I told him
I wanted to drive by and check it out to see if they were still hanging
around there.  Arnie mentioned a few places to drive past so around four
o'clock I said bye to Arnie online and told him I'd drop him a line later
that night to let him know what was happening around his old haunts. I left
my room to head to the local sports bar to catch a college game and some of
the scores. And waited for dark.

IV.

It got dark earlier than I had expected and I thought I'd leave the bar
directly and go for a drive. I stopped at home on an impulse and took a
shower. Usually I would have jerked off in the shower, soaping up my hand
and dick and giving myself a good finger fucking while cumming, but this
time I just showered and started thinking about where I would be
driving. As I stood naked in the shower, I began to wonder how far I might
go on this innocent drive around this balmy city of New Haven.

I started driving around an area a couple of blocks from Yale's central
campus, an area just beyond where any student would hang out but well
before where the city got real scary. There were two bus stops in the area
that Arnie had identified as spots where young guys hung out look to score
sex for money. Arnie said they'd range in age from 16 to late twenty's and
most of them needed the money for drugs or alcohol. I cruised the area a
couple of times and I didn't see anyone at all.  But on my fourth pass
through the area I was starting to really "see" what was up. In some of the
nooks and crannies of the streetscape there really were some guys hanging
but blending in like lamp posts into the background. I missed them before
but there they were. Most people drive past here blind to the camouflaged
under-life of this street, but now that I learned how to look, these boys
were plain to see.

My heart raced as I started thinking about possibly stopping the car. Could
I? Would I have the balls to do it? I reached into a bag in my back seat
and pulled out a can of beer while a drove. I downed it in about six big
gulps and I was soon lit up again with boozy adrenalin. My heart was
pounding so hard I could scarcely breathe as I slowed down in front of a
bus shelter near the gated drive of an auto body repair shop.

Leaning against the gate was a thin twenty-something. As soon as the car
stopped, he looked around a bit and walked slowly toward the car. I thought
of speeding away but I didn't.and I almost threw up with nervousness as he
approached my window.

I knew what I wanted to say, but it was all I could do to even make a
sound. How did I get here? Wasn't I just at a bar sipping beer, then a nice
shower in my warm one bedroom apartment? And now I'm looking for some
diseased street whore? What's the fuck?.oh yeah, I remember now.Ohio and my
heart hurts and I'm fucked in the head unhappy and drunk.this is what
always happens to people like me.

I pressed the button to roll down the window and the queer poked his head
in. Before I could say anything I registered a look of surprise on his face
and he quickly asked, "You lost or something?"

I think he was really surprised by how young I was compare to all his other
Johns. God was I nervous. "No, I know where I am. A friend said I could
find a date around here."

The hustler said, "Yeah, you can find dates."

Remembering what Arnie had told me, I said, "I've got thirty five bucks,
can I get a date from you?"  My legs were numb with fear.

He asked back, "What kind of date?"

"A BJ?" I stated and questioned at the same time.

"Yeah, fine. Should I hop in?" he asked.

"Yeah," and I flipped the button to open the door locks.

He opened the door and stepped in. He smelled of the outside cold mixed
with the smell of cigarettes, body odor, and a bit of the cheap leather
jacket he was wearing. I was already hard as a rock under my shorts and I
wanted to grab my dick and starting beating off right then.

He said, "Go straight two blocks, there are some parking spots up there and
a little city park." We were almost there when he pointed to a parking
space and said, "Just put it there and we'll take a walk".

We got out of the car and he led the way in silence into the park where it
turned much darker in the course of about ten yards. He walked behind a
bush and I followed. I could still see the street and the buildings around
me, but I could tell nobody could see us.

"Where's the money?" he asked.

I had the $35 bucks wadded up in my sock and took it out and gave it to
him. He looked at it quickly, put it in the back pocket of his jeans,
reached over and pulled down my shorts. He kneeled in front of me and my
dick was sticking straight up so much it hurt.

"Well, looks like your ready," he said in a flat tone.

He took my cock in his mouth and moved quickly up and down my shaft. He was
holding my balls tightly, almost angrily as he sucked me off. He'd slow
just as he reached the head of my dick on his back stroke, but would plunge
down hard on the return. Soft and gentle at the top or the stroke, mean,
powerful and slamming into my groin on the down suck. In less than a
minute, I was ready to blow my load. As I came close to climax, I said,
"I'm gonna cum".

Just as I came, he gave my ball sack a determined twist and suck really
hard. I went up on my tip toes as the slight pain from by balls mix with
the building pleasure. He took my load in his mouth and it was full, meaty
one. I exhaled in an audible gasp as I came and pumped many squirts in his
mouth, but he didn't swallow he was keeping it all in his mouth. When I
stopped spewing, he took his mouth off my cock, leaned over while still
holding my dick and spit my load on to the dirt next to my feet.

He gave my cock one last pull with his hand, emptying what little cum was
left. Most of it smeared on his hand as he pulled my softening cock that
one last time. He wiped he gooey hands on his pants. He stood up and looked
at me silently.

I hiked up my pants and said almost automatically, "Want a beer? I have
some in the car."  The hustler said (with a tone of voice similar to as if
I had just bumped into him at a Monet exhibit), "Yeah, that'd be wonderful
right about now".

As we walked back to my car, I couldn't help think that this kid actually
does this for a living! Sucks cock, gets some cash, and thinks nothing more
of it. In a way, very unsettling, but in a darker way deeply
appealing. Settling in the car, he downed one beer fast and I quickly
offered another as I kept pace with him. Soon, my liquid courage was coming
back.

I figured this guy was straight, so I asked, "So, any gay kids hang out
around here?"

"No, not right around here," he said as he was sucking back his second
beer. "I keep my distance from them. Most of 'em are young and pretty
fucked up and call too much attention to themselves. They're down further
about four or five blocks closer to where the train track crosses over."

"Do the cops hassle you much," I asked.

"No, most of them don't give a shit as long as you're not breaking into
cars or selling drugs," he said. "I actual have a cop as a customer, but he
even pays so he's a good shit anyhow. Hey, this is all just a business
after all."

He finished his beer and I thought of offering another, but I wanted to get
back to Arnie that night so I told I had to get going. He said, "See ya",
got out of the car and walked back into the shadows.

V.

I contacted Arnie as soon as I got back to let him know what happened. He
had been anxious to hear from me because he was worried I 'd get myself in
trouble some how. I explained in detail everything that happened and Arnie
congratulated me for having my "cherry popped" -- at least in terms of my
maiden voyager to the seedy, street-based body trade.

But what I wanted to now from Arnie was about the gay kids down closer to
the train tracks. I explained to Arnie during our email exchange that
although this night's adventure was fun, creepy, and exciting, I kind of
was expecting more - that it had left me wanting something more intense.  I
asked what it would take to get someone to come back to my apartment with
me and if the gay kids would be more into kissing and spending the night.

Arnie, the old pro that he was, had answers for some of my
questions. First, he said, that I'd have to come up with much more than $35
dollars if I wanted company for the night, and second, that if your looking
for kissing, snuggling, and "all that crap" the young queers would be much
more into it than any of the straight twenty-something's for whom "blow for
dough" was all they were into.  Arnie said he "might know somebody that
might know something" about the area of New Haven I was talking about and
that he'd write back if he got some info. Two days later I got a great
email from my man Arnie (thanks Arne!) Here it is cut and pasted from his
email:

"Jonathan, Sorry it took a bit to get back to you on the new haven thing. I
called a guy I've known online and he definitely knows some of the kids
there. I think he is a social worker or something and does some free
counseling at a drop-in center and uses that to meet some kids. pretty
rotten but I think he does care for them too. Anywho, I told him that I was
asking on behalf of a"young friend" he said that the area you mentioned is
totally goldmine. I told him you were young and sweet (no really) and
looking for a friend and he said that there are always sweet kids there
looking for a place to stay and that if you want them to stay over and
money isn't much of a problem they'll do if for about $100 expecially if
its cold out. He said a kid named Trotter is really cool and so is a kid
named Jon (that's not you is it? Lol) and BillyB who is new too. Let' me
know what you decide to do this is exciting like I was young all over
again!-A "

I was rock hard as soon as I read the email and I started rubbing my dick
through my jeans. My mind was racing, it was Monday night and I started
immediately planning for the weekend. Okay, I thought, I had school during
the week days and was working on Friday night, so it had to be Saturday
night. I'd start staking out the area every night after finishing my
schoolwork between now and the weekend and figure out my plan of attack.  I
felt so in control! I was gripped by the thought of the power dynamic in my
interaction with other guys shifting. Maybe I found a way to be in
charge. Finally, after so many months (and years) of playing the fool for
somebody else, I was now going to be Master on Saturday night.

VI.

I suffered for days waiting for Saturday night. Like a hunter stalking
prey, I spent every night I wasn't working either driving by the boys
hanging out or stopping a half block away and just sitting. Twice, I undid
my jeans, took my cock and balls out and just beat off there behind the
drivers wheel while watching my targets flit about talking to each other in
small groups, talking to men in cars, and occasionally driving off with
them, only to return minutes later. I half wanted to get caught by one of
the boys. I wanted him to come up to my window while I was stroking my dick
so I could throw a couple of bucks his way just to finish me off.

Like a lion culling the weakest in a herd by observing the manner of the
herd before attacking. I saw "my boy" on Tuesday night. Dirty blond hair,
slightly pimpled faced, skinny but kind of cute in a girly sort of way. Not
a day older than 17 and he looked even younger. He was definitely a
follower in this group. Seldom was aggressive enough to walk up to a car
unsolicited and seemed, generally, a bit of an outcast even among this
group of outcasts. I knew I could, if I desired, make him feel wanted.

VII.

It was Saturday night, 41 degrees, windy, and likely to get colder. I drove
up to the herd at 7pm, a bit early for cruising, but I knew this was a good
time to get the one I wanted in case he had another "date" before I showed
up. I rolled down the window and one of the kids ran up, "Hey," the kid
said, "What's up?"

I had practiced my response all week but unlike the weekend before, this
time I was filled with a supreme confidence that I'd not had before at any
time in my life. The fact that these guys were younger than me and really
needed my money just to survive was enough to change my personality from
gentleman to asshole. It didn't hurt either that I had had a couple of
beers in me as well as a few "pick-me up" tabs I'd had lying around since
going to a Rave over eight months ago. I was filled with attitude.

"What's his name?" I asked briskly, pointing to "my" pimply kid.

"Well why doesn't he tell you himself," the little prick said, insulted,
and walked away pointing to pimply kid to let him know I was asking for
him.

My pimply boy looked confused. He hesitated, stood up and came sheepishly
over to my open window. Before he said anything I asked, again bruskly,
"What's your name?"

"They call me Billy B," he said.

"What do you call you?" I asked quickly back to him.

"I guess, Billy B., too", he said, a little confused.

"Hop in for second," I told him.

He looked around, didn't know what to do, so did as he was told.

"Let me look at you for a bit," I said to him in a condescending tone that
I myself had heard from past boyfriends but never used myself, ever. He was
very girly like, fine features, blemished skin and hair that needed to be
washed.I liked him. He had enough faults to make me feel perfect.

"Billy, why don't you stay at my place tonight. Looks like it's going to be
really, really cold. I'm just a mile from here and I'll bring you back in
the morning. Hey, I'll even buy you dinner." I could tell that he really
wanted to come with me. The thought of a warm place to stay and dinner was
written with delight on his expressive face. But he just kind of sat there
and said nothing, except for his smile

"I'll give you $35 bucks to just stay with me overnight, but $135 for it to
be a date, " I said. His smile turned down into a pouty frown. I realized
that he thought I was do- gooder college kid helping out a
street-kid. Because of my young age, it had never occurred to him when he
got in the car that I was a customer. I could see he was crushed as he
realized I was just another John. I though he might cry.

I said rather harshly, "Come on, $135 for a date, including kissing and
everything else."  He was unhappy and truly undecided until I remembered
something that Arnie had told me to say, so I added, "No kink, no pain
either, I'm not like that." That seemed to answer his unspoken question.

"Hold on a second," he ran back to the herd and grabbed his backpack. And
spoke a few words to them. It was clear he had not done this type of
overnight "date" before and his fellow sheep were trying to blast him with
as much last-minute advice as possible. I beeped the horn a bit and Billy
B. came running. But before he got in, he said, "My friends are taking down
your license plate number to make sure I'm back by tomorrow."

"That's fine. You'll be back," I said with annoyance and we drove off.

VIII.

It's hard to describe my exact reaction to Billy B.

I am generally a really nice guy with a lot of compassion, but as soon as I
met him, I had an emptiness of feeling for Billy. With the hustler from the
week before, it was like we were on the same wavelength. I gave him money,
he gave me a blowjob and all was well.  No condescension, no attitude. I
actually kind of like the guy.

But Billy oozed attitude, not cocky attitude, but victim attitude. Yeah, I
kind of picked him cause he seemed to be the most pitiable of the group but
that was because deep down I was nervous about this whole escapade so I
probably just wanted someone I could be in charge of, at least in the
beginning.

But now that I had met the little runt, my desire to start off in control
became a reality. I was going to be in control whether I liked it or not
because this wimp was clearly self- esteem deprived. I was now the Master
and Billy turned out to be a naturally pathetic specimen to rule over.

How I managed to figure out Billy in just two or three minutes I don't
know, but it reminded me of something from high school a couple years
back. A boy by the name of Jimmy Lamondela was always picked on because he
was basically a loser. But most folks wouldn't have minded so much except
that he was an annoying loser.  You saw him and heard him, and you wanted
to punch him in the face. When he scurried down the hall, all the guys
would go out of their way to bump him into lockers or pretend to punch him
in the gut and he'd curl up and fall down. It was weird. It was as though
he had scent around him that gave off a smell that intoxicated with anger
all those around him.

That is how I felt about Billy. I could sense and smell his lack of
self-worth. I knew he'd be annoying and would have a sob story to match.

IX.

On the drive to my apartment, I said to Billy, "Just so you don't worry,
I'm not gonna kill you or stab you or anything. Okay? I'm just looking for
someone to stay over tonight. So, its not going to be any kind of sex you
haven't already done before, right?"

"Yeah, I know," was all Billy could manage to say in reply as he looked to
his feet and then outside and then to his feet again.

"How old are you anyway? Just so I don't get myself in trouble," I asked.

"I turned seventeen a few months ago," he said.

"Well, you look younger so I wanted to get you on the record in case you
turn me in the cops, eh?" I said. I thought he might take the opportunity
to say something witty in reply.  He said nothing.

When we got to my apartment I showed him around and I could tell he had a
bit of jealousy in his eyes. He saw in this college apartment a future that
he thought should have been his. The poster, the computer, the big bed
probably reminded him of home, too.

I said to him, "Why don't you take a shower and I'll put these clothes
you're wearing in the washer in the basement. Actually, why don't I do all
the clothes in your knapsack if you want." I took a few steps toward the
knapsack but Billy quickly grabbed it.

"That would be really kind of you to do. I'll get my clothes out myself,"
Billy said. He pulled out two t-shirts, a pair of jeans, a pair of socks,
and some underwear out of the sack. I could see that was all the clothing
he had and they were filthy. I could also see that he was protective of the
bag because it looked like he had some family photos, some letters and an
address book in there as well.

He was in the shower when I came back to the room. I opened the bathroom
door and, thinking of Jimmy Lamondela, I whipped opened the shower curtain
with a jerk. And just like Lamondela, I thought Billy would have a heart
attack.  He turned quickly sideways to hide his dick from me and was
clearly embarrassed.

I couldn't believe it, a fucking prostitute hiding his package from a
client. What kind of freak did I pick up anyway? What a weirdo.

"Sorry dude, didn't mean to startle you," I lied. "Just thought I'd ask to
see if you wanted a beer."

"Yes, please. That would be fine," Billy answered.

I grabbed to cold ones and came and sat on the toilet in the bathroom.
Billy hadn't the nerve to pull the shower curtain back so he was just
standing there with his back to me and finished rinsing his hair. When he
was done, he turned off the water and I said, "Hey Billy, turn around and
let me see you." I had a swagger in me now, and possessed with a confidence
to tell little Billy exactly what I wanted rather than just keeping such
things to unspoken and to myself.

He turned around and what struck me was how "almost" average he was. He was
of average build, but skinnier. Of average height, but a little taller.
Hair of average length, but a tad longer. He had very little body hair and
his limp dick was average, but just a bit longer. His cock definitely would
have potential when it got hard. But all-in-all a rather average seventeen
year old boy. But what wasn't average was his pretty face. With the right
hairstyle he could have passed for a cute young girl, especially if it were
not for the blemishes on his face that marked him as an adolescent teen.

I said to Billy, "You have a pretty face. Maybe we can pick up some stuff
at the pharmacy for your face?" It was the beginning of a pattern that I
myself heard so many times from psychologically abusive boyfriends. Bring
him up a peg, bring him down a peg.

I gave Billy some of my clothes to wear to dinner. The Tommy Hilfiger jeans
and rugby shirt looked a bit big on him, like a kid playing grownup, but
the size of the clothes brought out the delicacies of his face in a rather
attractive way. So as much as Billy disinterested me as a person, I was
still drawn to him physically.

Instead of to the sports bar where I usually go, we went to an Applebee's
that was always loud and crowded and where the service was normally okay.
We got a booth and I ordered a beer, Billy got a Coke. Using a trick I had
learned in high school, I had a large flask of rum with me that I used
generously to add "interest" to Billy's drink.

After some silence, I asked Billy, "So what's your story? All of you kids
have stories, right?"

"I guess so, but its not very interesting," Billy responded.

"Well it's interesting enough for you to be on the streets by yourself at
the age of seventeen, right?" I pushed back.

Billy, with the help of the rum and Coke, went on to tell me his story. He
was from Wheeling, West Virginia originally but his dad was in the military
so they moved around a bit until his parents got divorced when he was five
years old. His dad got a transfer to Germany he'd requested and Billy never
saw him again - but did get some letters here and there. Billy's mom
re-married an older man who was ex-military and who now ran a small
security firm in rural Pennsylvania.

When Billy was thirteen he attended an all boys summer camp and, like at
school, he was more often than not the one everyone picked on. One of the
camp's teen counselors took a shine to him and acted as his protector. At
night when all the other counselors would go to the adjoining girls camp
next door to sneak into the cabins, this one counselor would have Billy
meet him in the basement of the main lodge where he'd have sex with Billy.
Billy said that it made him nervous to do it at first, but he didn't
dislike it either. After a while, Billy looked forward to the nights with
the counselor and this lasted for three summers in a row. Billy even had
the opportunity to visit the counselor near Philadelphia a few times during
the school year, too.

At this point during Billy's story, I had took my sneaker off and put my
foot between his legs and pressed down firmly, "I just wanted to see if you
got hard when you told this story.and you aren't". It was such an obnoxious
thing to do but I had a buzz and I think I wanted to shock him a bit.

With my foot still resting on his crotch, Billy finished his story saying
that after his step- dad found some old love letters between the counselor
and Billy that Billy was thrown out of the house. Billy had gone to Philly
where the counselor was now in college and found out the guy had a
boyfriend and didn't want Billy around and told him he should just go on
home. Instead, Billy went to NYC (which he thought was too scary) and then
up to New Haven where he'd been for about five weeks now.

Apparently, there were a bunch of other street kids, too, that would pay a
local gay guy with a big old house in the neighborhood ten bucks a night to
sleep on the floor of his basement. The kids couldn't come in before
midnight and had to be gone before six AM.  It was worth it for them to
stay in a warm place and was safer than staying at a crowded shelter. The
guy who owned the home made a couple of hundred bucks each week renting
this way during the winter. The rest of the time during the day, Billy was
on the street trying to make the ten bucks and more for the room,
cigarettes, beer and maybe a bus ticket somewhere else.

"Well that sucks," I said to him and finished my burger and drank my
beer. Had he told the story in a more interesting manner, I might have cut
him some slack but he bored me with what could have been a cool
story. Plus, as suspected, he kind of played the victim of circumstances,
which annoyed me further. "Let's go," I said.

X.

Back at the apartment, I finished up Billy's laundry while we both had a
few more beers. I turned the heat way up so I could lounge in my boxers
comfortably with nothing else on and I told Billy to the same. I put one of
my favorite movies "White Squall" in the VCR and asked Billy to join me on
the bed. With the sound down low and the flicker of the TV the only light
in the room, Billy sat next to me and he was acting a bit too comfortable
for my liking.

I said, "I'm gonna call you Billie Jean for now on, cause you remind me a
sweet little girl, Okay?"

"Sure, whatever," said Billy.

I rolled over on my stomach and said to him, "Billy Jean, I'd like you to
give me a backrub."

Billy bent over and started rubbing my shoulders and back. "Why don't you
straddle me," I said. "It'll be more comfortable."

Billy lifted his leg and straddled my butt and sat down on my ass as he
started to rub me down.

I asked, "What did your friend the counselor do with you the first time you
guys had sex at camp? And give me the details. I want to know what
happened"

Billy seemed a bit intimidated by the request and hesitated a bit before he
began his story, "It was my second week at camp at about 8:30 at night and
everyone was in their cabins.  Jakob, the counselor who was about sixteen
at the time, came by and said he needed help putting the chairs away in the
lodge and would I help him. I said fine, because it wasn't that strange for
counselors to get some of the campers to do the work that they were
supposed to do themselves. When we got to the lodge, all the chairs had
already been put away and Jakob was leading me down the stairs to the
basement so I just followed. When we got in the basement it was almost
pitch black except for some light from the moon coming in some half
windows. My eyes adjusted slowly to the light and Jakob walked towards me
and said, 'Billy, you're a good little kid so I'll show you some of our
counselor secrets that we only teach to the campers we like'. I said that
would be great, not understanding what was about to happen. "He said, 'The
first thing I'm going to teach you is a French kiss', and Jakob leaned over
me put his mouth on my mouth and stuck his tongue threw my lips. I was
startled backwards but he held me so tight it hurt. I realized I couldn't
breath so I stopped struggling and he eased his grip on me.

"After a while I wasn't afraid anymore and his tongue just kept swirling
around in my mouth and I could hardly contain all the feelings I was
feeling. Jakob reached down in front of my shorts and started rubbing my
dick and Jakob said, 'When you get into high school, this is what happens
at the parties'. I didn't know if he meant between boys and boys or boys
and girls, but part of me wanted it to be all about boys.

"Then Jakob said, 'Lie down here.' So I laid down on the concrete and he
took off my pants. 'This is what a blow job is Billy. You'll need to know
this if you want to go through initiation'. I had know idea what he was
talking but it felt great when his lips went around my dick and kept
sucking and moving his head and lips up and down over my little dick. After
a while, I had an orgasm but not much came out. What did come out, Jakob
let leak out of his mouth and onto my stomach.

Jakob asked,"'Did that feel good, Billy?' I told him it did and Jakob then
turned me onto my front. He took a big wad of spit and put it between my
butt cheeks. Jakob stood up and took his pants down, kneeled behind me and
spit again between my cheeks. He started to slide his dick (which seemed
huge to me) up and down the length of my ass, but not inside. He was
content just to get off humping in between my ass cheeks. In a short time,
he came on my back and it was really wet and really warm. He told me not to
wipe it off and to just put my shirt on over it. He said he wanted me to
where that shirt tomorrow and not to shower in the morning. I did as he
asked and that was the first time I was with a boy." Billy fell silent.

I turned around onto my back and reached for the front of Billy's boxers to
see if he was hard and he was. "Do you like thinking about Jakob like that
Billy Jean? It feels like you do."

"Yeah, he said. I like thinking about that a lot," he said.

"Why don't you try to kiss me like he kissed you that first time," I said.

Billy leaned over, closed his eyes and started kissing me with his mouth
open and tongue exploring. I pushed him back and said, "Keep your eyes
open. I want you looking at me."

He softly spoke an apology and again kissed me deeply. I could tell by the
look in his eyes that it had been a long time since he'd kissed so
intimately and that it was a welcomed break from the succession of alleyway
BJs he was giving out to middle-aged and closeted queers each night for the
past few months.

We kissed for about fifteen minutes and he was really into it. He tongued
my ears and my neck and couldn't get enough of kissing my eyelids and
licking his tongue across my lips in big wet swaths. After a while, I broke
off the kisses and forced him gently down my front where he stopped to
suckle my nipple and forcefully tongue my belly button.

"Blow me like Jakob did to you the first time," I said to him.

Billy took down my boxers and started sucking me off vigorously. He was
good at it and it seemed to please him to do it. It was great to see the
pale white skin of my smooth stomach contrast so sharply with the rough,
bumpy redness of Billy's cheeks.

"Put your finger in my ass," I said to him and he stopped sucking, licked
with heavy spit two of his fingers and started to suck again while
beginning to probe my ass with first one, and then two, fingers. It felt
great and I just let the whole experience envelop me. I started to cum so I
clasp my hands on either side of Billy's face and started thrusting his
head into my crotch even harder and faster. I could feel the coarse texture
of his adolescent face in my hands as I pumped and spewed gobs of sperm in
his mouth. I said nothing as I came but Billy made a lot of noise as he
slurped and coughed in a desperate attempt to keep up with my load even as
he was still fingering me in the ass.

"Wow," I said. "Billie Jean, that was the best blow job I ever had. Fuck,
that was good."

Billy withdrew his fingers from his ass and was still wiping his mouth and
face when a big smile came over his face. He'd been perturbed that he
handled my cumming in his mouth with so little grace, but was genuinely
pleased at that compliment I offered up.

"Hey, come on over here and lie down on your tummy," I said as I positioned
some pillows on the bed. "Yeah, lie across here and raise your butt up a
bit so I can see how sweet you really are."

He did as he was told, took down his boxers and he was soon lying face down
on a stack of pillows with his ass and legs angled perfectly for access. I
said, "That first night, Jakob didn't enter you, but this is an even a more
special night for us, Billy Jean, so I'm gonna make love to you like you
deserve."

I reached to the bed stand table and pulled out a condom, ripped open the
package and placed in down around my cock that had lost none of its
stiffness after the blowjob.  "You've got a sweet ass, Billy Jean," I said
as I worked in some lube with my index finger.

"Damn," I said, "Do you know what I wish I had? I wish I had some panty
hose stockings that you could wear. You know, the sheer ones that go all
the way up over the thigh.  Man, you'd look nice in those."

Instead, I went to my dresser drawer and pulled out the longest tube socks
I could find. I took his feet in my hands and one by one stretched the
bright white socks up to his knees.  The whiteness of the socks framed his
upward pointed ass like a museum piece and I could tell that the soft
cotton of the socks felt good on his hard blistered feet which were still
rather dirty despite his earlier shower.

I mounted Billy from behind, he on the bed facing away from me and I
standing on the floor with my cock pushing against his hole that soon gave
way to the pressure. I push in and out, slowly with not a word between us.
For such a young kid, I was surprised how easily his anus gave liberty to
my dick.

"Hey sweetie," I said to Billy, "Do you let all the old fucks you meet on
the street do you up the ass?"

"No," he said at a whisper.

"Well, it sure seems like it back here. You're pretty loose for seventeen,"
I said.

I took my dick out of his ass and went into the bathroom. "Stay there", I
said to Billy as I open the bathroom closet to find a little extra spice
for my boy, Billy.

I came back into the room with a novelty toy called "Dick on Rope" which
was a big fat cock shaped bar of soap with a rope attached. It was a little
smaller than when I had first got because I used it a couple times myself
in the shower, but it was still a good eight inches in length and over two
inches in width. I watered it down and soaped it up in the kitchen and
walked towards Billy.

"This should be just fine for you. Feel how slippery it is?", I said as I
passed it across his bare back, leaving a soapy trail. Billy said nothing.

I went behind Billy and with great ease, slipped the enormous piece of soap
right into his ass. I pushed it in about seven inches and pulled it back
and pushed it back in again. Back and forth I pushed and pulled as it made
a soapy wet mess of Billy's entire rear. Billy said nothing at all but
moaned loudly in apparent pleasure during my concentrated push and pull of
the dildo.

I looked to the mirror on my closet door and saw a truly beautiful
sight. It was me in total command of an interaction with another person. A
white socked pretty boy, with ass aloft, getting fucked manually by me with
an eight-inch dildo.

I was so into watching myself perform that I hated to break the moment; but
since he, too, was enjoying himself so much, I thought this was the best
time to bring him down a peg.

I left the soap cock in his ass for a moment, went to my wallet on the
dresser and counted out the $135 I'd promised Billy. I put it down on the
bed stand table near his face and said, "I didn't want you to think that
I'd forgot why your doing this, you know." And I returned to his ass again
and resumed with the push and pull as his Billy's face turned a bright pink
with embarrassment. Again he was reminded who he was, what he was, and who
I made him be.

After a time, I pushed the faux prick up and into Billy as far as it would
go, Billy recoiled a bit in pain but settled soon with another moan. I
moved the pillows from underneath him and I joined him in a sixty-nine
position on the bed.

With the dildo all the way inside Billy, I started to suck him off even as
I reached around his butt to keep the soap pressed firmly in his ass. From
his position, Billy started to lick my balls with a feverish urgency that
felt really great. He licked my balls so well, in fact, that I was almost
ready to cum again. I didn't want to climax in this position, so I stopped
sucking Billy off and he let out an audible cry of displeasure, as it was
clear that he wanted and needed to get-off very soon.

I turned Billy onto his back, straddled his chest and looked down into his
eyes. I leaned forward and started licking his face slowly. Every inch of
his face was soon wet with my saliva. I paid special attention to his bumpy
red cheeks and pimply chin where I licked with all the caring and love I
could offer. I knew that his pimples made him feel ugly, and so I soothed
those sores that caused him so much pain with my tongue and lips.

Billy trembled and sobbed lightly, "My God, nobody's ever done that to me."

I put my fingers to his lips and said, "Shh."

Sitting on his chest, with the big fake dick still in Billy's ass, I
started masturbating near his face, my cock just an inch from his lips. He
opened his mouth to take my load but I said, "Keep your mouth closed,
okay?"

He nodded just as I started to cum. Not in spurts this time, but in slow
gobs of spew. I aimed my dick hole to first one side of his face and then
down toward the other side.  Streams of silvery jizz slid down the skin on
both sides of his fine-featured face.

Once again, I looked into his eyes, leaned down and began to lick his
face. This time, licking my own coppery tasting cum off the leather-like
skin of this pretty boy.

Without a word, I got up and turned the TV off and the room went totally
dark. I climbed in bed with Billy and pulled off the ridiculous looking
socks I made him wear. Then, gently, I removed the massive, soapy cock from
his asshole.

I rolled Billy over half way onto his side so he was facing away from me
and I behind him on my side as well. I pulled his legs up so that he was
now in a fetal position. I pushed in closely beside him and touched the tip
of my naked cock to his butt hole and it slid up into his soapy lathered
ass with no resistance.

There, front to back, my dick in his ass, little Billie Jean and I slept
the night.

XI.

I woke up about 7 am. I was on one side of the bed and Billy on the
other. I could tell he was awake and thinking. I nudged him a bit and
actually called him "Billy".

"Hey, Billy. Sorry, about this bud, but I've got to get to the library this
morning and get some schoolwork done. So we gotta go."

I think he was stunned out of his pensive moment made only deeper when
surrounded by a warm room and when lying atop a soft, clean bed.

He seemed like an abused boy just awoken from a wonderful dream now
realizing that his dream world had ended and the horror of a vicious father
awaited down the hall.

Billy looked down and said, "Oh, yeah. I gotta go, too."

He went to get his backpack and clothes. "Hey Billy, take those Tommy jeans
and stuff I gave you last night with you. I don't wear them any more."

I put on some sweats and grabbed my keys as a sign we'd best get going. I
really didn't have any schoolwork to do but I didn't want Billy's wandering
mind to start thinking that the moments shared between were anything but
for my pleasure and mine alone.

Billy was half way out the door when I took a hold of his arm and pointed
to the money on the table beside the bed. I could tell that there was a
part of him that wanted to leave the money there on the table as some sort
of protest, against me, against what he had become, against how unfair life
had treated him.

But that wasn't who Billy was. He'd never taken a stand in his life and he
wasn't going to start now. Little did he know that if he had taken the
money and thrown it in my face in defiance, I would have grabbed him and
kissed him and never let him go back to the streets - he could have stayed
with me forever.

But, instead, Billy scurried over to the table and stuffed his pants
pockets with money.

XII.

I stopped the car near the tracks and already there were two kids
cloistered together near an alley. Billy opened the car door and looked
back toward me before getting out.

Billy said to me, "Take care of yourself."

"Don't worry, I will," I said back.

He got out, shut the door and he ran to join his crew in the alley as they
huddled close to fend off the biting, cold wind of October.

"Jeez," I said aloud to myself, "He didn't even ask my name."

XII.

It's been just a couple of weeks since this all went down and I am still as
conflicted and guilty and angry and annoyed as I was that October morning.

For what reason did I hate Billy so much? Because I saw too much of myself
in him.

Why did I love him so much? Because I saw too much of myself in him.

Why must I never see him again?

Same reason. Same terrible reason.


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