Date: Sat, 22 Oct 2011 11:20:39 -0700 (PDT)
From: Macout Mann <macoutmann@yahoo.com>
Subject: Teenaged Hustler

This story is fiction.  Any resemblance to actual persons, places, or
events is purely coincidental.  This story also includes explicit
homosexual activity between adults and teens.  Be warned.  If such activity
offends you or if you are underage, please move on.


			     TEENAGED HUSTLER

			      by Macout Mann


It was a hustlers' paradise.  Urban Renewal had leveled a square block of
downtown, leaving a wide sidewalk around the perimeter and what had been a
paved alley running down the middle.  In the adjacent block was the Hotel
Ben Spangler, one of those cookie-cutter commercial hotels built in so many
cities before the Great Depression, and which in the 1970s were on their
last legs.  Next to it, the Greyhound Bus Station; and a bank which
occupied the rest of the block.  Government office buildings, dark at
night, took up most of the other nearby space.

As he sauntered around the empty block, Matt could see everything that was
going on.  If a man in a passing car seemed to want something, he could
cross to the adjacent block and soon see if he or another guy was the
subject of the john's interest.  If traffic was slow, there was always the
men's room at the Greyhound.  And there was often a horny traveling
salesman or two staying at the hotel.

At 16, Matt had the best of both worlds.  He was a handsome, black haired,
young hunk, with the beginnings of a crop of dark chest hair all the way up
to his throat.  But he also had the open face and demeanor of a youngster,
not yet used to the ways of the world.  He was dressed in well-worn, faded,
blue jeans, a work shirt with the Mobil Oil logo on one pocket and the
name, "Dick" stitched on the other, and a plastic billed Mobil cap on his
head.  It didn't matter that there wasn't a Mobil station within a hundred
and fifty miles or that his name wasn't Dick.  In this outfit his regulars
could easily spot him, and he stood out from the older guys, most in their
twenties, who were also trying to make a few bucks with their dicks,
mouths, or asses.

Matt had been at it for way over a year now.  He first encountered man to
man sex, when at age 13, he was home, looking for something in the
basement, and stumbled onto his dad and his uncle Jim naked and in a hot
sixty-nine.  He'd rushed to his room in a panic.  But his dad had come up
soon afterward and explained that a lot of guys liked to play with other
guys.  It wasn't something they talked about in public, but it wasn't
anything to be ashamed of either.

Jim was only four years older than Matt, and it seemed only natural that
the two of them would get together.  That happened just a few weeks
afterward.  Matt took it all in stride.

He had hoped to get a pair of Adidas for his 14th birthday.  He was really
disappointed, almost mad, that he didn't.  A few days later he was walking
home from swimming practice at the Y, when a fellow stopped and offered him
a ride.  He'd heard you weren't supposed to accept rides from strangers,
but he'd never been offered one before, and it seemed silly not to take it.
The man was about his dad's age and was pleasant enough.  Somehow, they
wound up talking about how much Matt had wanted those shoes.

The man casually laid his hand on his crotch and said, "I could help you
out with those, if you could do something for me."

"What's that?" Matt asked.

The man opened his fly and pulled out his dick.  "Suck this thing," he
said.

"I wouldn't mind," Matt replied.

The man pulled to the curb, and Matt jacked him a few times, until he was
totally hard, then gobbled him up.

"Hell," the man moaned, "this sure aint your first time, is it?"

"Nnn...gh," Matt whimpered, as his head moved back and forth, his lips and
tongue savoring the taste of dick meat.

It wasn't long before the man's white semen filled Matt's mouth.

The man was very generous.  Matt had two twenties, when he got home.
Almost enough to get the Adidas he wanted.

Jim was the first to notice the new shoes.  Matt told him what happened.
"Well, now," his uncle replied, "You'd make a damned good hustler.  You
ought to start going down to the Spangler."

It turned out that Jim had done some hustling, when he'd wanted shit his
folks wouldn't get for him.  Still did sometimes, when he was hard up for
cash.  So he took Matt downtown and showed him the ropes.

Matt was a quick learner.  He didn't hit the street every night.  Weekends
usually.  More often than that during summer vacation or when he didn't
have homework to do.  Hustling was a lot more fun than watching tv.  Paid
better too.  His dad found out what he was doing, of course.  Wasn't really
pissed.  Admired his "get up and go."  Reacted sort of like he did when he
found out Matt and Jim were messing around.  "Boys will be boys."

Matt walked the block counter-clockwise.  That way he was always facing the
right lane of traffic.  He recognized a late model Dodge sedan turning the
corner ahead, so he turned up the "alley."  The car turned in as well,
passing Matt and parking off to the side about twenty-five feet ahead.
Matt didn't alter his pace, but when he reached the car, he opened the
passenger side door and got in.

"Was hoping to see you tonight," the man at the wheel said.

"Glad to see you too," Matt replied.  "The usual?"

"Sure enough."  The man rubbed Matt's dick through the thin fabric of his
jeans and started up the car.  He was in his 40s, pretty trim, and dressed
in an Izod polo and chinos.  Wedding band on his finger.  They drove to a
nearby park and stopped where Matt had a good view of the surroundings.
The man opened Matt's fly and pulled his jeans down below his knees.  He
wore no belt and there was nothing but skin under his jeans.  Matt always
went commando, but when he went to get a tan, he always wore skimpy swim
trunks.  A lot of the johns liked to see tan lines.

Matt's rock hard dick stood straight up and his client reached for it like
it was a popsickle.  He also ran his fingers through Matt's thickening
pubes.  "I really love young dick," the man said, "tastes so much better."
Then he went down on the sixteen-year-old and began to suck like he was a
baby on a bottle, except that this nipple was six inches long.  Matt moaned
and made the appropriate comments, so his client was convinced he was
giving the boy real satisfaction.  No denying Matt was enjoying it, but it
was strictly business, as far as he was concerned.

He dropped his load down the guy's throat, took his money, said "Thanks,
man, that was great," and zipped up.

"Boy, I really love to suck that," the man replied, then drove Matt back to
where he'd picked him up without further conversation.

The whole episode had taken less than half an hour.

Back on the block, Matt resumed walking.  About ten minutes later a Ford
station wagon pulled to a stop along the curb just ahead of him.  Matt
didn't recognize the car or the driver.  He was middle-aged, wore glasses,
and was sort of pudgy.  The passenger-side window was down.  Matt stuck his
thumbs in the belt loops of his jeans and strolled almost past the parked
car, as if he was paying no attention.  Then he hesitated.

"Hi, there," the driver said.

"Hello."

"What you up to?"

"Just hangin' out."

"Like to go for a ride?"

"Why not?"  Matt got into the passenger seat.  "You'll drop me back here?"

"Sure."

"Where we goin'?"

"No place in particular.  You got someplace in mind?"

Matt had gone through conversations like this a hundred times.  Problem was
that the cops knew what the routine was, just like the johns and the
hustlers did.  So Matt never said or did anything to show he wasn't just a
teen just hanging out, until the other guy made an overt move.  Not that
the cops didn't know who he was.  In fact most of the hustlers on "the
block," as they called it, willingly let the regular uniformed cop on the
beat blow them, when he wanted to, in exchange for being left alone.  Matt
also could spot most of the vice cops that came around, but you never could
tell.  Paid to be careful.

"You're a sexy looking kid," the driver said.

"Think so?"

"I'd love to suck your dick."

"You would?  How bad?"

"Damn, you aren't hustling, are you?"

"Well, I'm pretty hard up."

"Oh...Well I don't have but five dollars on me."

"That's too bad."

"Won't you even let me see it?"

"For five bucks?"

The driver laid his five dollar bill on the dash board.  Matt put it in his
pocket, opened his fly, and pulled out his dick and balls.

"Better take me back," Matt said.

The other guy reached over to feel what Matt had shown him.  Mat blocked
him.  "See it, but don't touch," he said.

As Matt left the station wagon another hustler, a nineteen year old walking
by, said, "Well that was quick."

"Poor bastard was looking for a free trick," Matt responded, "but I made
him put up a fiver just to look at my dick."

"Goddam!" the other lad replied.  They both had a good laugh.

Matt was about three-quarters the way around the block, when he spotted a
familiar pickup truck.  It was Jim.  He pulled to a stop and said, "Hop in.
Your dad needs to talk to ya."

Jim sped the sixteen or so blocks to Matt's house.  "What's wrong?" Matt
asked.

"I'll let Si tell ya," Jim replied.  "He just called me and said I'd know
where to find you and that he needed to talk to you right away."  It was
obvious Jim knew more than he was telling.  But it was only minutes before
the pickup braked to a stop, and they saw Si, Matt's dad, waiting on the
porch.

"You come on in too, Jim," Si called.

The three of them walked into the living room and sat down.  The house
seemed strangely quiet.

"Where's Mom?" Matt asked.

"She's gone," his dad replied.  "Walked out about an hour ago."

Matt had never been as close to his mother as he was with his dad, but the
news hit him like a punch to the gut.

"I know you're mature, a lot more mature than your age," Si began.  "So I'm
goanna tell ya like it is, son.  And you know how much Jim means to me, so
I want you both to hear what I've got to say.  It aint pretty.

"I've known for a long time that your mom's had a boyfriend.  Didn't bother
me a whole lot.  I figured he was just a spare dick.  Besides, she knew I'd
never been faithful.  I've hooked up with other women and men too, even
while we were engaged.  Like they say, `a dick don't have a guilty
conscience.'

"But tonight she comes and tells me she's goanna have a kid by this
son-of-a-bitch!  I ask her if she wants to have an abortion.  She says no,
she's goanna have it.  I say, `O.k.  if Matt's cool with having a brother
young enough to be his son, and if your boyfriend's willing to help with
his upkeep, I aint got a problem with that.'

"'You stupid shit,' she yells, `I aint staying around with you and your
faggot son.  Me and Beaux are goanna have the kid together!  I'm leaving
for a real man!  You can have your faggot son and your faggot nephew and
any other faggots you've shacked up with!  I'm walking out right now, and
if you sue for divorce, I won't contest it.  I'll welcome it!  And if you
don't, it won't matter.  I don't give a fuck if Beaux and me get married or
not!'

Matt was crying, not so much because his mom was gone, but because his dad
was taking it so hard.

"God, son!  I'm so sorry," Si said.

"No shit, Dad.  I love you."  He hugged his dad, and Si responded by
kissing Matt on his cheek and forehead.

"I love you too," Si said.  Without thinking, he let his hand fall on
Matt's groin clutched the boys package.

Matt hugged Si even tighter.  "That feels good, Dad."

"Oh, damn!" Si cried.  "I'm sorry. son.  I didn't mean to do that."

"Like I said, felt good.  I never knew why you never have got with me.
Aint all that much difference between a dad and an uncle, is there?"  Matt
reached for his father's fly, unzipped his trousers, and took Si's dick in
his well-practiced hand.

Jim figured he'd heard all he needed to, so he slipped out into the
darkness.  Meanwhile, Matt got on his knees and took Si's now hard prong
into his mouth.

"Matt," Si gasped, "don't do..."  He gave in to the exquisite sensations
Matt's head was providing.  Matt's tongue rolled around Si's eight inch
member each time he pulled up and each time he went down.  Si was nearing
climax, but he wanted to taste Matt too.  He wanted to enjoy the sight of
his teenaged body in all his nakedness.  He wanted to feel his own naked
body pressed against the rugged frame of his son.  "Wait, Matt," he panted.
"We need to find a bed!"

Si pulled Matt to the bedroom he'd been sharing with his wife, pushed him
onto the bed and unbuttoned his shirt.  He hadn't realized what a beautiful
body his son had developed.  He removed Matt's shoes, unbuttoned his jeans
and stripped them off, feasting his eyes on the prize package other men
were so eager to pay for.

Meanwhile, Matt pulled his dad's t shirt over his head and finished
removing his trousers.  They lay together, feeling up each other's bodies,
nibbling each other's nipples, and finally swallowing the other's rigid
pole.  Both were lost in the moment, savoring the other's manhood, aware
only that what they were doing was meant to be. They sucked in concert,
giving each other every possible thrill, trying to make it last and
last. They came almost simultaneously, each swallowing the copious load the
other was providing.

Next morning they awoke, still in the same position.  And they reenacted
the passionate scene from the night before without guilt or shame.


			  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -

If you enjoyed this chapter and would like to read more about Matt's
adventures, I need to hear from you.  Feedback is important.
macoutmann@yahoo.com