Date: Tue, 20 Dec 2011 20:59:11 -0800 (PST)
From: Macout Mann <macoutmann@yahoo.com>
Subject: Teenaged Hustler 14

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


			     TEENAGED HUSTLER

			      by Macout Mann

				Chapter 14


As the project got underway, Si had to make some adjustments.  For example,
he had to provide lockers at his house for the good clothes that were
bought for the boys.  No way to explain to parents why kids doing odd jobs
would need suits.  Also, a system had to be developed to conceal from their
families the real amounts the boys would be making.  It was decided just to
issue them checks based on a wage rate of $8.00 per hour, more than
minimum, but to open bank accounts for each of them, where the remainder of
their earnings would be deposited.

In general, however, JCC's operations began more smoothly than expected.
One surprising thing was that each client immediately sought repeat
encounters with the boys.  Si attributed this to their not being able to
fuck around with teenagers for who-knows-how-long.  Walt reported a good
experience with McConnell, and he called back within the week for a third
encounter.  Jones soon had another meeting with Jim.

Spangler began to release JCCs phone number to more of his acquaintances;
and before the next week had passed, he called to set up the first meeting
with an important out-of-town client.  On Friday night Matt was to meet
Mr. Scott Crawford at Cambridge House for dinner and an all-nighter.

Crawford was a sixty-year-old scion of one of the first families of
Charleston.  He spoke with that long-voweled, aristocratic Southern accent
that sounded like he had a mouthful of cotton candy.  He had condos in
Manhattan and Key West and an Italian villa near Venice.  He was the proud
father of three sons and one daughter and grandfather of twelve.  He also
had a lifelong fondness for underage ass and had introduced his sons and
some of his grandsons to the joys of male sex.  His appetite was
insatiable, and he jumped at the opportunity to spend his last night in
town with an experienced sixteen-year-old.  In fact, he was so pleased that
he transferred many thousands of additional dollars to Spangler's
management.

Matt arrived at Cambridge House at the appointed time, went to the house
phones, and asked for Crawford's room number.

"Yes?" Crawford answered.

"Mr. Crawford, this is Matt Edwards."  It had been decided not to use
aliases with out-of-town clients.

"Oh, yes, Matt.  I'm pleased you're here.  Have a seat.  I'll be right
down."

Matt took a seat opposite the elevators and in less than five minutes
Crawford appeared.  He was an imposing man, about six feet, four inches,
only slightly overweight, with a full head of black hair highlighted by
graying temples, and the smooth skin tone that it seems only older men of
great wealth can achieve.  Matt stood, as Reznick had taught him, and
extended his hand.  Crawford grasped it firmly.

"Matt," Crawford said a bit more loudly than necessary, "I'm so glad you
could come.  I see so little of my relatives these days.  I'm sorry that
your father couldn't join us."

"He was sorry too, sir."

"I have taken the liberty of asking Austin Spangler to dine with us.  He
should be along shortly.  Meantime, why don't we go ahead into the dining
room?"

They were seated at a far corner table, and Crawford asked Matt all about
school and sports and other things teenagers are supposed to be interested
in.  Matt said that he had never been to Charleston, and asked how it was
to live on the seacoast.  They were having an animated discussion , when
Spangler was shown to their table.

"This is a real pleasure, Matt," Spangler said.  "I didn't realize you'd be
joining us."

"Shit, you motherfucking pimp," Matt thought.  But aloud he responded, "I'm
glad to see you again, Mr. Spangler."

The dinner proceeded without incident.  There was some business talk, but
mostly the men chatted with Matt about things he might be interested in.
The food, as usual, was marvelous.

Back in the lobby, Spangler said his goodbyes.  "I know you've got an early
flight Scott.  Have a good trip, and we hope to see you again soon."

"Take care of things for me, Austin, and say `hello' to that pretty wife
for me.

"I'm taking Matt up to my room for a minute," Crawford added.  "I have
something I want him to take to his dad."

Once they were in his room Crawford removed a photo album from his luggage.
"I thought you might like to see some of my pictures," he drawled.  "This
is my oldest son, when he was your age.  He's over forty now."  The smiling
lad in the picture was very handsome, standing next to a bed, totally naked
and totally erect.  "George was always very proud of his body.

"And this is my second son," he continued, turning the page.  "He was never
the athlete George was, but his dick was something to behold.  Don't you
agree?"

"Sure nothing to be ashamed of," Matt said.

The next page showed the two boys in a sixty-nine, and the pictures were
beginning to have an effect on Matt's dick.  "I always loved to watch my
boys play," Crawford mused, "almost as much as playing with them myself.
Do you and your father ever get together?"

"We have a couple of times," Matt truthfully responded.

"I think it's the most wonderful thing a father and son can do.  To show
their affection for each other."

Crawford continued to thumb through the album.  There were similar pictures
of his grandsons and toward the back of other young boys, some quite young.
Two or three were shown with older men, whom Crawford identified as his
adult sons; and one showed Crawford himself with a very well endowed
Hispanic boy.

"Will you let me take your picture, Matt?"

In all their discussions the subject of pictures had never come up, but
Matt remembered a kiddie porn case that had been the talk of the town the
year before in which pictures had played an important part in the
prosecution's case.  For some reason the idea of a stranger photographing
him naked didn't appeal.

"Oh, I wish I could, sir, but the company has a strict rule against that,"
he said.  "Some sort of legal thing."

"Well, that's all right.  We don't want you getting into trouble, now do
we?  Maybe next time, I can get a waiver."

"Maybe so."

"Did my pictures turn you on?"

"I think you can see they did."

"Yes, I noticed you'd tented up.  And I know it is sort of warm in here.
Maybe we should shed these clothes."  Crawford took off his coat and tie
and then said, "Would you like some help?"

Soon Matt was bareassed.  "Such a nice build on such a young body,"
Crawford exclaimed.  "And such a nice dick.  I just love young dick."  As
he spoke, he finished removing his own clothes.  His own tool wasn't long,
but was big around.  Matt wondered how some of the boys in the pictures
he'd seen could've gotten their mouths around it.

As he led Matt to the bed, Crawford asked, "Do you like older men, Matt?"

"I like it all," Matt tactfully responded.

"I don't get it up as quickly as I used to," Crawford said.  "Will you help
me?"

Matt took the older man's half flaccid dick in his mouth and quickly
massaged it to rock hardness.  Its bulb was a perfect mushroom that filled
the boy's throat.  "Don't make me cum," Crawford said.  "Not yet."

Crawford agilely switched positions with Matt.  "I want to worship your
thing," he panted .  "So beautiful."  Forty-five or more years of
experience came to bear on Matt's throbbing tool.  God, could Crawford suck
dick!  He used his mouth to expertly edge the teenager, not seeking cum so
much as the taste and texture of Matt's young shaft.

Ten, then fifteen minutes passed, as Matt moaned constantly.  "Fuck, man,"
he finally cried, "let me cum!"  Crawford immediately increased his pace
and began to swish his tongue over Matt's piss slit.  Immediately the old
man was rewarded with a cascade of cream flowing down his throat.

"Oh, shit," Matt almost sobbed, "that was the greatest!"

"Nobody's ever claimed to suck dick better than I can," his companion
gushed.

They lay together for several minutes.  Then Crawford got up and said,
"Let's celebrate your orgasm.  I'm sure you're not opposed to a little
alcohol."

"Bring it on," Matt replied.

Crawford brought out from his luggage a bottle labeled "The Glenlivert."

"This is the rarest Scotch Whiskey in the world," Crawford explained.
"Single malt.  Not very long ago, only forty-eight cases were imported to
the United States each year.  It's best drunk neat.  Like a fine Cognac."
He poured an ounce into two hotel tumblers and handed one to Matt.  "To
young dicks," he toasted.

Matt had never tasted Scotch.  But he would never like the Scotches that
he'd later taste, because they couldn't measure up.

After a half hour of sipping the nectar of Scotland, Crawford said, "I want
to feel your young dick inside my ass first.  I want to save my own load
for last."

That sounded good to Matt.  He wasn't sure how prepared he was for the
diameter of Crawford's dick.

"I have some K.Y. for you," Crawford said.  "But you can take me without
lube.  I'll never forget how great it felt when I rammed my father for the
first time without any grease between my dick and his ass.  I like it that
way too."

"Takes all kinds," Matt thought.

Crawford gave no sign of pain when Matt penetrated him.  He still seemed
tight, though.  His ass still grabbed Matt's dick on every stroke.  He also
seemed to sense when Matt was on the verge.  "Don't cum," he'd cry.  "Wait.
Let me feel that pole."

Matt complied. It was like when he was getting head, only in reverse.
Crawford seemed to relish the up-and-down, in-and-out sensations more than
anything else.  "Such a great young fucker," he moaned.  "Such energy.
Such a dick."

Matt could no longer hold out.  He collapsed on Crawford's ass and shot
another load of cum, this one up Crawford's spasming rectum.  "Oh, Matt,"
he cried, "that was glorious.  Maybe later you can do it for me again."

They sipped another Scotch before Crawford was ready to finally get off in
Matt.  Matt again helped the older man to an erection, but once hard
Crawford was more than capable of piercing Matt's young anus.  He was
probably the biggest dick, circumferencewise, that Matt had taken, but
Crawford was gentile and passionate.  Matt was not unhappy.

They drifted to sleep in each other's arms, and when Crawford awoke during
the night, he did entice Matt into fucking him one more time.

Crawford's wake up call came at 6:30.  "I've got to make my flight," he
told Matt.  "This has been unbelievable.  I've got to have you again."

Matt got dressed as quickly as he could.  Told Crawford he'd like to see
him again too.  Crawford pressed a C note into his palm as he left the
room.


Matt crossed the lobby and took the first cab waiting at the entrance of
the hotel.  He gave the cabbie his address, and the cab sailed across
downtown.

"Don't get too many fares from Cambridge House to Mayfair Place," the
cabbie said.

"My uncle lives over here," Matt answered.

"Don't get any high school kids in suits at seven in the morning, either,"
the cabbie continued.  "You must be some kind of call boy.  Didn't know
this town had any."

"Keep talking like that and I'll have my dad call your boss and complain
about your mouth," Matt spat back.

The cab stopped in front of Matt's house.  "Maybe, if I see you again, I'll
give you a tip." Matt said, "if you can learn to keep your mouth shut."

"Cool it kid," the cabbie retorted.  "I can bring you some business."


			      - - - - - - - -


A REMINDER: You don't have to be a millionaire like Spangler or Crawford to
donate to nifty.org.  It's like when I pick up a hitchhiker and say "I'm
not going very far," and he says "Every little bit helps."  Stories like
"Teenaged Hustler" appear on nifty.org because readers do contribute.
Every little bit helps. Enough said?

Your input is also important.  A number of you have responded, most
favorably.  Some have indicated where they want the story to go.  I
appreciate that.  One response said he didn't want the police to get
involved.  Can't guarantee that.  But we're moving toward the climax, so
let me hear from you.  macoutmann@yahoo.com.


Copyright 2011 by Macout Mann.  All rights reserved.