"Alley Cats" from the Files of TABOO TOPICS (714) 240-8480
Steve ran his tongue slowly up the length of the boy's inner thigh and once more swallowed the head of his small but delicious cock.
"Hey," Steve whispered. "Lift your legs."
The kid snorted. "No way, man."
"Come on, guy. What's to hurt? All I want to do is eat your ass a little."
"No one messes with my butt," the boy hissed through his teeth.
"I'm not messin' with it," Steve countered. "I just wanna kiss it a little."
"No," the kid snapped back.
Steve shrugged and went back to work on the boy's dick. So the kid wanted to play hard to get. Well, Steve could play that game too. That's what great cock sucking was all about. Steve sucked the prick slowly, his head moving up and down the stem with fierce determination.
The kid's hips began to jerk. Steve knew he was close. But he also knew he still had more than 40 minutes left on the hour he'd paid for. This little hustler wasn't going to slip away quite that easily. To slow the impending eruption, Steve grasped the kid's balls and twisted them.
The boy groaned, his body jerking as he tried to pull away. "Hey," he snorted again.
Steve eased the hold a bit. The moment seemed to have passed. The precome no longer drooled out the end of the kid's dick. With a sigh he put the head of the boy's cock back into his mouth and began flicking his tongue across it. This little piece of meat had cost him 50 bucks. He had every intention of getting his money's worth.
At 43 Steve was anything but old, yet he'd decided years ago that his attractive days were over. No self-respecting little Twinkie would look twice at a man old enough to be his father. And Steve dearly loved little Twinkies.
In fact, he loved them young and brittle and full of attitude. "Alley cats," to Steve, were just much more exciting. "Rent them! Wash them! Fuck their brains out!" had always been his motto--a simple enough credo when you lived in an area crammed with such nubile little street whores.
"Come on, guy," the kid moaned. "Finish me off."
Slowly Steve let the boy's cock slip out of his mouth. "No," he replied. "Unless you guarantee seconds. I've still got a lot of time left on my investment, and you know it."
"Man," the kid whined, squirming. "I gotta shoot. My nuts are achin'."
As if for emphasis the hustler writhed against the rumpled sheets. Steve grinned. He was an alley cat, but he sure as hell was a cute one.
Steve had been walking along Santa Monica Boulevard just west of the French Market Place when he spotted this kid standing beside a bus bench on the other side of the street. Probably in his early 20s, with short, curly brown hair and a trim, provocative little body wrapped in the prerequisite skintight Levi's and torn T-shirt, he blatantly stared into each car that moved past him.
Steve decided right then that he would pay any price for an hour with this alley cat. He raced to his car, anxiously bumped it out of the parking space, and sped off down the side street toward the bus bench and his probably expensive dessert. This kid was going to look delicious sprawled naked on his bed, his legs waving in the air like a wishbone begging to be split.
But the kid was gone. Startled and peeved, Steve drove east a few blocks. Frustrated, he actually began mumbling to himself. He'd had his mouth all set to eat this kid, but somehow the little whore had gotten away. Visibly irritated, Steve wondered what son of a bitch had robbed him of his cute little cream puff.
Three blocks past the bus bench, he was about to turn around and retrace his route when he spied the kid walking slowly along the boulevard, his little butt quivering with each step. The kid was still cruising every car that passed him.
Steve almost caused an accident as he flicked off his turn signal and pulled back into the heavy traffic. This time, eyes on the prize, he wasn't going to lose it again. He returned the kid's stare, parked his Camaro, and waited for the kid to come up to the passenger window. They performed the usual no-one-dares-make-the-first-move formalities until Steve couldn't stand it anymore.
"Listen," he said. "How much to suck your dick.?"
At first the kid had just stared, wide-eyed. "You a cop.?" he'd finally asked.
"No," Steve countered sharply. "I'm a cocksucker. How much?"
"Fifty," the kid replied without blinking.
"Fine," the older man agreed. "Now get in the fucking car."
The boy obeyed like a petulant child, his pouting little mouth signaling his displeasure with Steve's impatience.
"Where're we going.?" he asked sullenly.
"To my place," Steve replied as he steered the car back into the crawling traffic and headed across town toward his apartment.
"I get paid in advance," the kid said.
"I don't pay until I've seen the merchandise," Steve shot back.
As the Camaro moved out toward La Brea, the boy suddenly began tug- ging open the front of his pants, shoving them down across his thighs and flipping the waistband of his tattered briefs down below his nuts.
Steve glanced over. They were just pulling level with a bus crammed full of people. With any luck at all the passengers-
would get a real eyeful as the Camaro passed the crowded windows of the plodding bus.
The boy's equipment was small and delicate but very pretty. A soft cock nestling in a mass of curly brown hair rested atop a very fragile-looking pair of nuts. His thighs, strong and hairless, spread as much as they could under the circumstances.
"It's 50 bucks," the boy repeated nonchalantly.
Without another word Steve struggled into his pocket, pulled out a wad of bills, and, fumbling a bit, peeled off a pair of 20s and a 10.
"Thanks," the kid replied as he finished zipping up his trousers. He took the money and shoved it into his front pocket.
Neither of them spoke another word until Steve pulled the Camaro past sliding security gates into the underground parking lot.
"You live here?" the kid asked uncertainly.
Steve glanced over at him, his first instinct to snap right back. "No, I just park here." I live in Malibu." He just smiled and nodded instead.
Upstairs Steve began mixing a couple of drinks while the kid wandered around the living room checking out the furnishings. "Probably casing the joint," Steve thought cynically.
"Nice place," the kid said as Steve returned and handed him a tall gin and tonic.
"It'll look better when you're naked," Steve replied.
With a shrug the boy set the glass on the coffee table and began pulling off his clothes. The T-shirt slid up to reveal a tight, naturally developed chest with a pair of large nipples that seemed to be just begging for a kiss and a bite. The shoes came off And the cocks. Then the boy unzipped his pants shoved them down, and kicked them off. His Jockeys were old and frayed. Steve loved it.
The whole time the kid just stared at Steve, his eyes boring holes into the older man's. "The shorts too?" he asked.
"What a stupid question!" Steve thought, but instead of saying anything that might jeopardize his 60-minute love affair, he merely smiled and nodded.
With another shrug, the kid hooked his thumbs in the waistband and shoved them down. He kicked free of the tattered shorts and stood defiantly in the middle of the room. With his fists braced against his hips, he was as pretty as any centerfold model Steve had ever seen.
Smooth as a baby's butt, the kid's pink flesh seemed to glow in the dim light. He had no hair anywhere except under his arms and above his boyish cock.
"Is it OK?" the kid asked. It was the first time Steve detected a crack--a hint of juvenile insecurity the hustler's tough facade.
Without answering, Steve set his scotch down on the coffee table and took the boy toward the bedroom. "I'll show you how OK it is," he thought as he began unbuttoning his own shirt.
Again the kid resisted when Steve tried to lift his legs. "I said no," he snapped.
"And I said yes," Steve replied just as fiercely. The boy's legs bent backward until his tight little butt rose off the sheets and hovered in the air. As pretty and as tight as the rest of his body, his ass appeared to glow in the soft light from the bathroom.
"You're just gonna kiss it, right?" the boy asked a bit nervously.
"Yeah," replied Steve. "And lick it. And maybe after that I'll tongue-fuck it for a while. You got a problem with that?"
Again the kid resisted when Steve tried to lift his legs. "I said no," he The kid didn't respond this time. He just relaxed and allowed his knees to be settled back onto his shoulders.
The boy's butt hole clenched tightly shut. Steve ran his tongue around the perimeter, up over the cheeks, back into the crack, and then up to the balls. He covered every inch of the kid's ass, sucking and kissing and giving little bites.
His smallish cock, hard now and eager, bobbed slightly against his belly. His balls were drawn up tight, and a major tremor moved along the soft insides of his thighs.
Steve planted his mouth directly on the kid's tight little ass ring. It smelled wonderfully of soap and new sweat. Using his tongue like a long probe, Steve prodded the clenched muscle until it finally opened. Just as Steve's tongue slipped inside, the boy started to buck and twist on the bed.
At first Steve thought it was because he'd finally penetrated the boy's butt, yet as he stared up between the kid's legs, he saw the first burst of come shoot from the twitching cock. It was amazing: This kid seemed to be more anally sensitive than any other person Steve had ever met.
Even though his cock was still spurting come out across his stomach and chest, the boy continued to buck his ass up against Steve's mouth. "Please," he sighed, his head rolling from side to side. "My ass. I gotta come. I gotta. Oh, man--"
Steve deliberately avoided any contact with the boy's pulsating dick. He still had 35 minutes left on his investment. The kid may have come, but the session wasn't over. Not by a long shot.
For several more minutes he burrowed into the kid's butt hole, his tongue opening the reluctant little muscle until the boy moaned and squirmed on the-bed, his drooling cock poking up toward the ceiling. "Oh, man. Oh, man," the kid kept sighing as his body shuddered and jerked.
Not waiting for permission, Steve took his index finger and, without removing his tongue, slipped it into the hot little cavity. The boy groaned, clenched his butt, and tried to squirm away, but Steve was in complete control.
"My finger now," he thought deliberately, "my dick later." The kid probably didn't realize it yet, but Steve had every intention of plugging his gorgeous little alley-cat butt.
"Ow," the boy whined, his ass shaking beneath Steve's penetration. "Get it out of there," he barked "Shit! I told you. Nobody messes with my butt!"
Steve ignored him. Slowly and methodically he moved his finger back and forth inside the kid's asshole. He didn't feel the blow until after he'd toppled over sideways and slid off the bed. The kid had drawn his leg back until he could plant his foot squarely against Steve's shoulder. With a tremendous smack he had shoved Steve sprawling down onto the floor.
Before Steve could react, the kid was off the bed and grabbing his clothes. "Motherfucker!" he snarled. "I told you, nobody messes with my ass. Not nobody! Damn it! You fuckin' sons of bitches think just because you pay for it, you can do anything you fuckin' want. Well, asshole, you can't. Not with me. Touch me again and I'll rip your fuckin' head off."
Raging around the room, the kid had thrown on his clothes before Steve figured out: what had happened. He pulled himself up off the floor and, without planning it, ended up standing between the kid and the bedroom door.
Seldom had Steve seen such anger, such fury. The kid was coiled in on himself, prepared to take on anybody who stood in his way. Still a bit stunned (more from surprise than from the blow itself), Steve watched the kid, almost enjoying the boy's defense of his virginity.
"Listen, you little punk--" he began.
"No, shithead," the kid shouted. "You listen! I'm not takin' no more of that shit. Not from you. Not from nobody!"
"I paid for--"
"You paid for my dick. Nothing else."
"I've still got 30 minutes," Steve reminded him.
"You ain't got shit. I told you the fuckin' rules. You don't play by 'em, you don't play at all. Now get the fuck out of my way."
"No," Steve said simply.
The kid's eyebrows furrowed. Anger settled across his face like a chiseled mask. "I'll kill you, motherfucker."
Steve was surprised once again by the sheer determination, the increasing physical boldness, of this kid. He'd seemed so unimpressive, even non-threatening, when Steve had first seen him on the boulevard. He'd seemed even more harmless naked. But now, enraged, he appeared to swell like a blowfish warning off predators.
"I want to fuck your ass," Steve added quietly.
"Fuck you!" the kid exploded.
"OK guy," Steve answered with a mocking grin. "But I get to fuck you first."
The boy's eyes narrowed, the rage darkening the shadows beneath his eyebrows.
Steve watched him seethe. Usually alley cats were just alley cats: Feed them! Fuck them! And they'll turn them loose! Yet this particular little creature had suddenly developed a very special individuality, one that was creeping insidiously into Steve's psyche.
For several minutes they just stared at each other, not unlike two tomcats in a dark alley. Steve found that what had begun as a simple physical need was fast becoming an emotional involvement. There was just something intriguing about this kid. Something that was causing a turmoil in his head.
"I'm sorry," he heard himself say softly. He blinked at the gentleness of the words. The kid blinked too.
Still they stood their ground, each man steadily watching the other.
"I don't even know your name," Steve added.
For a moment the kid didn't respond. Finally, fidgeting a bit, he replied shyly, "It's Clay."
Steve just stared. If the kid's name was Clay, he was the queen of Romania!
The kid seemed to sense the disbelief hostility replaced the brief moment of vulnerability. "Now get the fuck out of my way."
"What's your real name?" Steve pressed again.
"I told you."
"Your name's not Clay," Steve insisted. "It's probably something like Edwin. Or Hiram. Or Mortimer."
The kid's face contorted. "Hiram?"
"OK, well...maybe it's something like Ralph. Or maybe it's Butch."
Reluctantly the kid let go with something that sounded like a snicker.
"Or maybe even Bruce."
The snicker turned into a snort of laughter.
"Whatever it is, I've still got more than 20 minutes left. I want to suck your cock, and I won't mess with your ass. I promise."
"Bullshit!" the kid spit right back at him.
At first Steve started to fling back a typical wisecrack answer, but for some reason he didn't understand, he just replied, "I swear."
The kid made no response at all.
"Please," Steve heard himself say.
Finally the kid began moving toward him, his limp cock swaying gently in the shadows between his legs. "My name's really Paul" he stated quietly. "And please don't mess with my ass anymore, OK?"
Steve took the boy in his arms and kissed him. Magically the physical desires erupted into purely emotional ones. This little street urchin had somehow overwhelmed him. What had been just a sexual transaction was now a passionate embrace.
They kissed for a long time. Finally the boy's arms rose up behind Steve's back and began hugging him. Steve crushed the boy against his chest, his tongue burrowing into the kid's mouth.
They made love again, slowly and with growing affection. The 20 minutes turned into two hours. Steve sucked the boy's cock again, licked those pretty little balls. After a few minutes the boy began returning the favors.
The moment he felt the kid's tongue touch his cock, Steve thought it would end right there. Come boiled at the base of his prick. If the kid even slipped Steve's cock head into his mouth, he'd blast a hole through the back of the boy's head.
Yet he didn't come. Not right then. Instead they lay on the bed playing with each other, giggling softly while they kissed and sucked, murmuring nonsensical words against each other's flesh.
As Steve's feelings slowly began to emerge, the kid's anger seemed to dissipate. He seemed to relax, to actually enjoy Steve's tender appreciation.
Steve licked the beautiful body, nipping at the tits, swirling his tongue along the stem of the boy's cock, under the delicate, hairless balls, along the soft flesh of the inner thighs. He made no attempt to reach that tempting butt hole.
The kid seemed to revel in the attention. He lay sighing on the bed, his body writhing slowly, his fingers twisting again and again in Steve's hair.
When the kid finally came, Steve's lips were pressed into the dark pubic hair, his throat sucking the come out of the boy's cock.
The kid suddenly-and unexpectedly-twisted around and began reciprocating. Steve shot almost instantly, his cock plunging deep into the kid's throat.
Afterward they lay back on the bed, spent, their arms wrapped around each other. Finally the kid whispered, sorry."
Raising himself up on his elbows, Steve stared at him quizzically.
"For not lettin' you mess with my ass." Steve listened in silence. "A couple months ago," the kid continued, staring uncomfortably at the wall "I let a guy fuck me. I needed the money. Anyway, he got inside me and then wouldn't stop. He hurt me. I thought he was gonna kill me. When I finally got away from him, I swore nobody'd ever do that to me again. It hurt for a week after that. I'm really sorry."
Steve bent down, his face full of concern, and kissed the boy softly on the lips.
"Incidentally," the boy added, his eyes flashing back to stare into Steve's "my name really is Paul."
Steve smiled and kissed him again.
They say an alley cat chooses its master, not the other way around.
Two weeks afterward Steve answered the door. Paul stood in the hallway, a battered suitcase, two cardboard boxes, and a plastic bag littered around his feet. "Hi," he said a bit self-consciously.
Steve just smiled, grabbed for the packages around the kid's feet, and ushered him into the apartment.
Ten minutes later they were lying naked on Steve's bed, Paul's legs bobbing in the air. Steve licked the delicious butt hole until the boy whimpered and squirmed.
"Please," Paul whispered.
Steve didn't wait for a second invitation. Bracing the kid's ankles against his shoulders, he leaned forward and began rubbing the head of his anxious cock against the equally eager butt hole. It finally popped inside. The kid groaned, his hips rocking upward as Steve's prick slid slowly into the warm, inviting depths of Paul's ass.
This fuck was going to be very special. This time the kid was home.