Date: Wed, 14 Apr 2010 09:44:06 -0400
From: Evan Williams <classic14rider@gmail.com>
Subject: Hip Hop Hoes Part 16

The following story is a work of erotic fiction. It is for entertainment
purposes only. It is not intended to be read by minors. It may include sex
involving characters under 18 years of age and racially offensive
language. Anyone who might be offended by this type of story, or unduly
influenced by it, should find something else to read.

**********************************

Sam stood in a dimly lit corner of the porn movie house. He held two
wrinkled notes in his trembling fingers; one from his supervisor at work,
telling him he wouldn't have a job in two weeks because his work was being
"outsourced" to India and Eastern Europe. The other note was from his wife
of 14 years telling him that she had had enough -- he spent entirely too
much time at the office and felt like she was married to a ghost. She
planned to take the kids and move to Texas, where she thought she had
better prospects to find a job and raise the kids.

Sam ran his hand over the uneven skin of his aging face. He saw his
reflection in the clear plastic that covered the display case for the
videos that were playing in the booths. In the dim light the lines on his
face and thinning of his salt-and-pepper hair were more visible than
usual. The light and shadow of the movie house seemed to accent his age. He
rubbed the unshaved peppery stubble on his chin.

Sam felt an impulse to leave the movie house. Maybe if he had a stiff drink
he could forget all about his problems for awhile. The automatic air
freshener of the movie house hissed its sickly sweet spray on Sam's head
making him grimace. He stuffed the letters back in his pocket and headed
toward the exit.

Just then a young African American male, who looked around 16 years old,
entered the movie house. He strutted down the dark aisles with confidence,
bopping his head to the music on his I-pod. The volume was turned up so
loud Sam could make out the dim tune as it blasted into the miniature
speakers in the boy's ears.

Sam and the young black male briefly exchanged glances. The boy's eyes were
hazel and set against the glow of his golden brown face. A knowing smirk
crossed the teenager's face, then he averted his gaze under the cover his
long thick eyelashes. His rose colored lips continued to sync the hip hop
lyrics of the music that was pumping into his ears. A slight hit of peach
fuzz, trying to become a mustache, cast a faint soft shadow above the boy's
upper lip.

Sam watched the boy as he turned down one of the dark corridors in the
movie house. The kid was wearing a white "wife beater". His lean muscular
arms seemed to glow from the reflected light outside the movie booths as he
pressed the plugs deeper into his ears, making the music louder. His white
baseball cap, turned sideways, swayed to the rhythm as it rested on top of
a white bandana. The small ends of light brown braids peeked out from
underneath the bandana.  Without giving Sam a second glance the boy
disappeared inside of an empty video booth. Sam heard a stream of quarters
dropping into coin box and a glow from the video screen reflected off of
the shiny wooden walls at the entrance to the booth. By state law porn
movie houses for the public were not allowed to have doors. The politicians
had convinced themselves, or at least the voters, that this would prevent
the movie houses from becoming sites for casual sex. The effect, of course,
was the reverse.

Sam could no longer see the boy from where he was standing. He did not want
to creep up on the boy for fear he would be shooed away. Instead, Sam
contented himself with watching the reflection from the video screen on
doorway. Then he noticed something, it seemed like the shadow of the boy
suggested some kind of motion going on inside the booth.

Sam moved closer to the doorway and saw the steady rhythmic motion of the
boy's shadow as the boy stood in front of the video screen. The motions
were those of a steady beat -- a stroking motion. Sam listened heard the
sound of skin being vigorously stroked and the rustling of clothing. He
could no longer contain his curiosity. He peeked around the corner and saw
the youth stroking his hard brown skinned cock while watching the screen
and bopping his head to the music.

Sam felt his own dick grow hard inside his pants as he watched the youth
stroking himself, apparently oblivious to his surroundings. Suddenly the
boy turned his head and his gaze met Sam's. Sam gulped as the boy's hazel
colored eyes pierced his soul. Sam stepped back, giving the boy space --
fearful that the boy would be angry and try to punch him out or quickly zip
himself up and leave.

But the boy just stood there, stroking more slowly now, but eyes firmly
fixed on Sam's gaze. There almost seemed to be an implicit challenge in the
boy's eyes as he continued to sync the words to the hip hop tune on his
I-pod. Sam felt awkward, embarrassed, intimated -- he struggled with
himself not to turn away. The boy smirked. He didn't seem angry; he seemed
in control. Sam started feeling emboldened and eased his way into the booth
beside the teenager.

The musty smell of the teenager's youthful strength and sexual vitality
filled the booth. Before Sam could say anything the boy undid his pants
further, exposing a thick black bush of youthful pubic hair underneath his
boxer shorts, "Let's see wha' you can do wit' dis," the boy whispered in
voice that had the rhythmic beat of a jazz drum. He revealed the full
length of his teenage cock and large low-hanging testicles swinging between
his legs.

The forty-eight year old man sunk to his knees in front of the young black
teenager and surrendered himself to the boy's masculine vitality. Sam
admitted to himself that his own world was crumbling around his ears, but
the youth standing in front of him seemed confident and unafraid of
anything.

Sam licked the boy's hairy black balls in admiration. The boy held his sac
up and Sam licked underneath the boy's testicles. Before he knew it, he had
a mouth full of the youth's testicular hair and warm soft sacs filling his
mouth. He sucked on the boy's nuts, making the teen moan.  The boy sank
down onto the padded bench in the booth and Sam crawled between the youth's
legs. He rested his hands on the boy's brown thighs and felt soft whiffs of
teenage hair hinting at emerging manhood. Sam buried his face between the
boy's warm thighs and sucked on the boy's throbbing penis.

The boy's dick was harder than Sam ever remembered his own dick being when
he was the boy's age. It filled Sam's mouth with hot tender flesh, but
remained a firm youthful pillar of power thrusting down his throat. Sam
tasted the boy's precum leaking on his tongue.

In the daytime, a man like Sam -- who used to have a good-paying job --
could convince himself that he was a power in the city while people like
this boy did menial labor. He could convince himself that money was
power. But now he was faced with the reality that everything he had built
his life around could vanish over night, and that boys like the one in
front of him had the power of unshakable self-confidence, vitality, and
life.

The boy grabbed Sam by the back of his head and thrust his hips in his
mouth almost making him gag. Sam eagerly tried to swallow the length of the
boy's cock and allowed the youth to use his mouth like a wet pussy, ready
to absorb all of a young man's cum juices. Sam resolved to be a willing
instrument for release of the teenager's sexual aggressions. He would allow
the boy to release himself in his mouth, because that was all Sam was good
for.

Every day he had seen groups of boys like this one riding up and down the
wide city streets on skateboards. They played dare and chicken with
onrushing traffic. Now Sam was down on his knees servicing one of these
boys; acknowledging the youth's absolute power over him. He admired the boy
for his urban toughness and gave him respect by sucking the boy's cock. His
mouth became a willing outlet for the boy's teenaged lust.

The boy eagerly gyrated his hips against Sam's face. Sam felt the boy's
full hairy sacs rub against his lower lip. The boy's thick cock started
twitching in his mouth -- Sam knew the youth was about to release his
cum. He knew the youth would shoot his juices and maybe this would give him
the strength and self-confidence he needed to get through another
day. Maybe this cocky black youth, full of urban vitality, would become a
part of Sam by pumping him full of youthful testosterone.

The boy took quick breaths and burst into an orgasm. He fired thick hot
loads of fresh teenage cum into Sam's mouth. Sam swallowed it down. The boy
shot even more loads. Sam's mouth was full of the smell and taste of young
hot urban manhood.

Finally, the boy's body went limp. The sweat from the boy's shapely abs
dripped onto Sam's face. Sam licked the teenager's cock clean, not wanting
his session with the boy to end. He breathed deeply and savored the smell
of the boy's pubic hair.

When the boy caught his breath and came to his senses he tapped Sam on the
head and extracted his dick from the desperate man's mouth.

A look of longing washed over Sam's face as the youth's cock disappeared
inside of his boxer shorts and he zipped himself up. The boy looked down at
Sam. His eyes were now tender and sympathetic rather than manipulative and
challenging. "Thanks man," he said in a half-whisper. The teenager stood up
and slipped into the darkness outside of the booth.

Sam watched the boy's back fade into the shadows. For a moment, at least,
he and the boy had shared a secret of masculine bonding. Each knew what the
other needed -- one needed someone to submit to him and the other,
someone to submit to. Sam and the boy gave each other what they needed.

It was a moment; only a moment. And in the moment, as the boy exploded with
semen in the older man's mouth, Sam believed in himself and in the world
again.  But after the moment passed, the boy vanished into the night.