I first saw James in a hustler bar. He was, needless to say, one of the rent boys. He was short -- about 5'4", and very compact, maybe 110 at most. He looked like a gymnast, with a tightly muscled body and an ass you could admire for hours. To be honest, I didn't even notice him at first. It was my last night in New Orleans, and I was trying to find something pretty sleazy and decadent. The bar was packed that night, and I must have missed him at first. One more young boy in a torn pair of jeans, wife beater and a shirt. For the most part, they seemed more or less interchangeable; their rates all about the same, their lines as well.
James first came to my attention when I went to take a piss. He was in the restroom, on his knees. He was busy sucking off an older guy. There was only one good thing about the older guy; he was a little overweight, balding (and afraid to show it), badly dressed, and it seemed, had a distinct odor. Although the smell could have been the bathroom; it was hard to tell. On the other hand, he had one of the biggest cocks I had seen recently. Fat and long, it also had a pair of balls to match. If the guy had been at all good looking, he would have had an amazing career as a porn star. Perhaps he had earlier; he seemed like he was at least in his mid fifties.
He had his pants open just enough for his cock and balls to hang out, leaning up against a wall, James looked like the little whore he was down on his knees giving him a blow job. I watched long enough to see that he was having no problems going all the way down on the guy's fat 11" cock. As I stood at the urinal, I could hear him gagging at times on the old guy's cock. In between gags, I could hear the old guy doing hits of poppers, as well as the guy at the urinal next to me offering me a bump of some drug or another. Given that I had come here looking for something sleazy and decadent, it was just about perfect. It was hard not to spring something of a boner just standing there pissing.
I finished up my business, and headed back to the bar. I got a beer, and headed to one of the back tables, watching the slow dances happening around me. One of the hustlers would come up to a guy, they would talk, then either leave together, or separate, the hustler going to another guy, the guy always staying where he was. As I was nursing my beer, I saw the troll come out of the bathroom. His cock really was his only redeeming feature; even in the dim light of the bar, I could see how ratty his clothes were, and his hair had that unique texture that came from not bathing frequently. He didn't even stop on his way out, and went straight out the door. About thirty seconds later, James walked out of the bathroom. I noticed he had damp spots on his knees, and laughed silently to myself. It was painfully obvious to anyone he had just been on his knees, sucking a guy off. He looked around the bar, and as he scanned past me, I raised my beer to him. He smiled and came over to my table.
"Hi," I said.
"Hey," he answered. He had a slight southern drawl. Not surprising, this being New Orleans and all, but it did make him a lot cuter.
"You were pretty impressive in there," I said.
"Thanks. I try." He pulled up one of the bar stools, and sat down in it. I moved over next to him.
"I'm Mark. What's your name."
"James," he said, smiling. I knew I was going to have to take him home then. There was something about his gymnasts look, coupled with that smile that made me want him.
"So, James, is that a regular activity of yours?" I asked.
"Yeah, I end up blowing him every two or three days."
I was a little surprised to hear him answer that straight-forwardly. "Just wondering, did you swallow his cum?" I asked him.
His smile disappeared. "You're going to have to kiss me to find out," he said, with almost a tinge of regret in this voice.
I set down my beer, and turned to him. He had pulled up his legs onto the stool, so I had to stand between them in order to kiss him. I rested my hands on his knees, and leaned in. As I leaned in, I noticed his smell. I wouldn't quite say he reeked, but it didn't seem like he had been able to shower for a few days, nor was that the first time he had kneeled down in a dirty restroom. The smell was intoxicating to me. It fired up all sorts of questions about this boy, made me want to know what he had been through to get to this state.
We kissed. I could feel stubble on his face against my lips, feel his mouth open to let me in. I knew the answer to my question even before my tongue entered his mouth -- he had swallowed the guy's cum. I could smell it on his breath, taste it on his lips -- it was an acrid, bitter sensation, a mixture of cigarette smoke, a life of bitterness and too much cheap liquor. As I pushed my tongue into his mouth, the taste consumed me. I probed around his mouth, trying to taste James, not his most recent trick. I kept on getting hints of him, a taste of youth, a taste of desire for something, but I couldn't quite tell what for. I let my hands drop down as I kissed him, noticing for the first time the hole in his jeans at the crotch. I let my fingers slip in, feeling a bit of his taut, warm skin, and what felt like a worn jock strap.
Just as I was starting to work a finger under his jock strap, he ended the kiss, gently pushing me out of his mouth. "Does that answer your question?" he asked.
"Yeah, it does." I wasn't sure how to continue. The taste of the guy's jizz was still overpowering. I took a swig of beer. "Can I buy you a drink?"
The smile returned to his face. "That would be great. A white russian." I flagged down a waiter, and ordered the drink. James had lowered his legs, and one of them was now gently rubbing against my legs.
"So, um," I paused, trying to figure out how to say it. "Does he pay you for blowing him?"
"Of course."
"How much?" At that moment, I realized I wanted him to be a cheap slut.
"Usually ten dollars. Twenty if I'm lucky." There wasn't much emotion in his voice. He was cheap.
"Not a lot, really." I said. The waiter brought his drink. It was already overpriced at six dollars, but the waiter was cute, so I gave him a ten and told him to keep the change. James took a long sip of it, and savored it before swallowing. He seemed happy to have a different taste in his mouth.
"No, but it buys some food." He took another sip of his drink.
"Do you live around here?" I asked.
"Well, I'm sort of between places right now. Sometimes crashing at friends."
"How much would it cost to take you home with me tonight?" I wanted to see how cheap he really was, if he had taken the time to size me up, figure out what I was willing to pay.
"You serious?" he asked.
"Yeah, I am."
"Fifty dollars. You can fuck me, I'll suck you off, whatever."
He was a cheap trick. Fifty dollars was nothing; I had about three hundred in my wallet. But still, something about the way he had sucked off the old guy made me think it wasn't entirely about the money, and I wanted to see what he would do. "Hmmm," I paused for a second, "You are very hot, but..." I trailed off. I wondered if he would take the bait.
He took it. "Well, maybe we could work something out. Like forty?"
"Yeah, that should work." I leaned in to kiss him, and he let me. There wasn't the taste of cum there any more, it was masked by his drink. It was a much more pleasant experience, exploring his mouth again. James shifted, pushing himself against my crotch. It was hard not to spring an erection feeling him push himself onto me. I let him do it, then broke off the kiss.
"Do you have a place near here?" he asked me. He finished off his drink.
"Yeah, I'm in a hotel nearby. It's only a few blocks away."
"Well, what are we doing waiting?" James got up from his chair, and made to get ready. I took one more swig from my beer, then also started to leave. James followed me. At the door, he grabbed one of the packets of condoms and lube, and we went out onto the street. It was still pretty early, so there were a fair number of people on the street. I was a little surprised though, by how cold it was out. James was walking right beside me.
"How long have you lived here?" I asked.
"About three years now."
"How old are you?" I was trying to figure out a little bit of his life story, how he got himself here.
"Don't worry. I'm legal. I'm 19." He laughed. I noticed just how short he was -- maybe 5'4" at best. He barely came up to my chest.
"Where did you grow up?" I was wondering about the accent, why he came here.
"Rural Georgia. I ran away from home, but don't really want to talk about it." There was a tinge of regret, sadness, maybe fear in his voice. "What do you want to do tonight?" he asked, clearly trying to change the subject. Even so, there was a weird hollowness to it, like he was trying to avoid something.
"I've been here for a week now, and not gotten off once. I think even a handjob would make me happy."
"Well, I think we can do more than that. I'm here to for your pleasure."
"That's what I was hoping. I've probably got two or three loads in me tonight."
"Even better. We should have fun tonight." We walked some in silence, and quickly arrived at the hotel. It was a fairly standard business hotel, nothing too ornate. "Wow, this is nice," James said. We walked through the lobby, and no one even noticed us. The elevators were fairly deserted, and we got in one alone. There were mirrors all over the elevator, and he looked around at all of the reflections of himself.
"Take off your shirt."
"Here?"
"Yes. Now." I hoped he was able to follow simple commands, otherwise tonight was going to be difficult for both of us. Luckily, he was good, and pulled off his shirt. He had a dirty wife-beater on under it. "That as well." He took it off too. He had a nice body, defined, but not overly so, a light dusting of hair on his pecs and a treasure trail down to his jeans. The jockstrap was just peeking out above the jeans.
"You like?" he asked, turning around slowly. I think part of it was just to see himself in the mirrors; he slowly flexed his muscles, showing off his body.
"Yes. Very nice. Now, unzip your fly."
"Here? But we're in public."
"Yea, here. Didn't seem to bother you when you were sucking that guy off." He slowly undid his fly. For all of his protestations, there was a pretty obvious lump in the pouch of his jock. "Nice," I said, "Turn around." He did, slowly, trying to keep his pants from sliding off his thin hips. Even through the jeans, it was easy to tell he had a nice ass. I was looking forward to tonight.
The elevator reached my floor, and the doors opened. James fumbled for his zipper as I walked out. "I didn't tell you to zip it back up," I said. He stopped trying to zip up his jeans, and instead, just held up his pants. For his sake, my room wasn't that far away, but still, by the time we got to the door, the pants had fallen halfway down his thigh. I opened the door, and motioned for him to go in. He did, and I followed. As the door shut behind us, I pulled out my wallet, "I guess it's time to pay, huh."
"Yeah," he said. He dropped his shirt and tank on the floor, and stopped trying to hold up his jeans. They fell to around his ankles.
"Forty dollars, right?"
"Yeah, it's going to be worth it." He watched as I opened my wallet. I think I still had $300 in hundreds there, as well as some twenties. I pulled out two twenties. It was hard to read his face as he saw the money, and I handed him only two twenties. "Dude, you could have afforded more than fifty." Still, he put the money in his pants.
"Yeah, I know. But I like cheap sluts." We stood there a few seconds, staring at each other. "Take off your shoes and pants, and let's get started." He continued to look at me; I could see indecision flicker across his face. This was quickly turning into a battle of wits, and I knew I was going to win. His only option was much worse than mine. After a few seconds, he quietly kneeled down and untied his shoes and took them off. When he stood up, he shook off his pants, and stood before me with just the jock strap. He was very hot standing there. I reached out and pulled on his nipple, watching him. He closed his eyes, and a small smile appeared on his face.
"Turn around," I told him. He turned around slowly. His back was well-defined, and his ass was almost perfect. The jockstrap framed his two cheeks ideally, and I wanted nothing more than to sink my shaft into him right then. "Bend over." He did, spreading his legs slightly, and reaching for his ankles. He might have been on the younger side, but he was well-practiced at this. His cheeks spread slightly, letting me see his hole, nicely tufted with a bit of hair. I gave his ass a slap, and told him to stand up.
"So, do you like what you see?" he asked.
"Oh yes. Quite nice."
"What's next?"
I went over to the desk and sat down in the chair, leaning back a bit, spreading my legs. I undid my belt and unzipped my pants. I had gone to the bar commando, so I pulled on my cock. James's little show had started to get me hard, so it was already a decent length. "Show me how good of a cocksucker you are."
He came over to me and kneeled down in front of me. I was expecting him to go for my cock, but instead, the first thing he did was to take off my shoes and socks. He put them to the side, then pulled off my pants. Only then, when I was naked from the waist down, did he turn his attention to my cock. He started slowly, taking it by the base and looking at it, getting to know it. Only then did he gently lick the tip, getting a drop of my pre-cum that had formed there. I think I was just overly horny, but the touch of his tongue on my dick was electric, and it stiffened almost immediately. He licked up the pre-cum, then started to slowly work his way down my shaft.
He was a very good cocksucker actually -- he had impeccable timing, always knowing when to go down on my shaft, when to pull back and work on the dickhead. I had worried that he might prove to be a cockteaser, licking the head and not much else, but James was very much into my cock, burying his nose into my pubes on a regular basis. I just leaned back, and let him suck on my dick for a while. He seemed not to need to breathe at all, sometimes going all the way down and holding it for what seemed like minutes, then slowly pulling off.
After about fifteen minutes of this, I tried an experiment. The next time he went down on my cock, I put my hand on the back of his head, holding him down. He made no move to stop me, and I held him in place for nearly thirty seconds. It was me who let him off, wanting to feel his talented tongue on my head one more time. As I took my hand off of his head, he reached for it, and guided it back onto his head.
I took his lead, and began to force him down onto my shaft, pacing the strokes according to my pleasure rather than his. Occasionally, he would misjudge a thrust and gag slightly, but he didn't complain, and the gagging really only turned me on more. I stood up, to get better leverage into his mouth and throat, and he never let my cock fall out. We worked together for another five minutes or so, getting to know his throat, getting to know my cock.
I took off my shirt, throwing it into a corner, then took off my watch, and let it fall gently onto my pants. I was now nude, although he still had on his jockstrap. I pulled him off of my cock -- I was getting a little more aroused than I wanted, and needed a break.
"Did it measure up?"
"Yes, boy, more than I had expected."
"Good. You have a cock," he pause and looked me over, "and a body worthy of worship."
The not-so-subtle flattery was appreciated. I spent 6 days a week at the gym to get my body, so it was nice to hear someone else comment on it, even if I was paying him. Of course, my boyfriend back home also seemed to like me. "Well, I certainly enjoyed."
"But, I think you want to try something else." He was still kneeling down in front of me, looking up at me. His arms were wrapped around me, his hands gently massaging my ass.
"Yeah, I do." From the very beginning of his blow job, all I could think about was what his ass was going to feel like. I wanted to feel his body underneath mine, the two of us connected like one.
"Good. Me too. It's not often I want someone to fuck me, but I really want you to." It was hard to tell if that was a line he used on every john, but he sounded sincere, and I took it for face value. He ran his face along my cock. "I want to feel it in me."
I didn't need much more prompting. I grabbed a bottle of lube out of my bag and tossed it to him. "Get on the bed and lube yourself up." I said. I turned off some of the lights as he got onto the bed. He was young and lithe enough that there was a physical pleasure in watching him move. He got onto the bed, got down on all fours, and began to rub the slippery liquid onto his hole, letting a finger slip into him occasionally.
I stood and watched him finger himself for a bit. He slowly but methodically worked in one, then two fingers. From the moans he was making, he was clearly enjoying himself, and I was too. He knew what he enjoyed, and he was giving himself at least a version of that pleasure. I grabbed a few condoms out of my bag, and got on the bed behind him. He paused his explorations just long enough to hand me the bottle of lube. I squirted some of it in my hand, and added one of my fingers to his hole.
He had managed to loosen himself up nicely, and my finger slipped in with only a slight resistance. He was warm and tight, and I wanted to feel my cock in there, see how deep I could push myself into him. As we both pushed our fingers into him, his moans slowed, and in a quiet voice asked, "Fuck me please, daddy."
"Are you ready for it, boy?" I asked. I pulled my finger out of him, and poured a little lube on my cock. I started to stroke my cock, getting it hard and ready for the eventual penetration.
"Yes. Please. I need you in me now." It was no longer a plea, there was the hint of demand in his voice now. Of course, this did much to stiffen my cock, so I took the condom out of the wrapper and quickly slid it onto my cock. I poured more lube on my rubberized member, and kneeled between his legs, letting my cock slide up and down his crack.
I leaned over him, whispering into his ear, "I want to be in you. And I'm going to fuck you now." As I finished, I nibbled slightly on his ear, then went back up, grabbing his waist with one hand, and guiding my cock into him with the other. It took only a single stroke to lance my way into him.
He gasped at first, moaning, then said, "Thank-you," as he pushed back against me, pushing me balls-deep into his ass. My cock hand reflexively grabbed the other side of his waist, and we were quickly in a rhythm of long strokes into him, my balls slapping against his ass with every thrust. He took my cock like an expert, squeezing his ass at just the right moments to hold me in a second longer, then releasing and letting me slide back out.
I reached under him and felt his cock. It was straining against the jockstrap, and there was a moist spot at the tip where pre-cum was leaking out. Just touching it was enough to make him moan, and utter some unintelligble phrase. I leaned back over his back and whispered into his ear, "What did you say?"
"Don't touch me. I'm going to cum." I stopped playing with his shaft, and just wrapped my arm around his chest, holding him tightly as out fuck continued unabated. He turned his head towards mine, trying to reach my mouth, trying to kiss me, but unfortunately, our positions and relative sizes made that impossible. On the next stroke, I let myself fall out of his ass. "Please, put it back in. I need you in me."
"Turn over," I said. I'm not sure I ever saw a boy turn over as quickly as he did. It was like he flipped in mid-air, landing on his back. I pulled off his jock strap and threw it away, letting his stiff cock spring free. I grabbed the bottle of lube, and poured some of it on his cock, and started to stroke him a bit. As I did, he put his legs up on my shoulder, pulling his ass back against my cock.
"Daddy, I need you in me. Put it in so I can cum." The "daddy" hardly seemed like an affectation, it was so sincere and serious, that was how he thought of me. I was getting close to cumming as well, feeling his ass slide against my shaft wasn't helping, so I didn't feel bad about granting his wish. I guided my cock back into his warm home, and we resumed our pace of thrusts. Once more, the return of my cock to his hole elicted a grunting "Thank-you daddy, Thank-you" from him.
I leaned into him, letting our lips meet. He let me kiss him deeply, letting my tongue explore where my cock had just been. I could taste myself in his mouth, the slight tang of my precum all over him. With one hand, I held his head, steadying it against my fuck to kiss him. With the other, I reached down and slowly stroked his cock, now dripping a stream of pre-cum. I could feel myself getting closer to cumming, and it was getting harder to hold back.
He was clearly feeling the same, his breaths became more abrupt and shallow. "I'm going to cum, I can't stop it," he said suddenly, then immediately locked his lips back on mine, once more letting me thrust my tongue into him.
I broke the kiss long enough to say, "Me too. I want to feel you cum from the inside. Do it now boy." We returned to kissing, and I stroked his cock a little harder, a little faster, feeling it thicken and harden in anticipation of the orgasm. Within moments, I could feel his first volley of sperm shoot out of his cock. At the same time, the involuntary spasms that racked his body could be felt by my cock, now buried deep into him. That was my final straw, and I felt a surge through my cock and a final thrust into him as I began to shoot.
Once my orgasm began, it was hard for me to focus on anything else. The animal part of my mind took over, seeking only to maximize its own pleasure. All I could feel was my own cock pushing it's way into him, shooting its load, his muscles clamping down around it holding it in place. I was only dimly aware of James's own spasms, the spurts of cum he was now depositing into my hand. We seemed to work in a perfect harmony -- as I flagged slightly, he had a huge thrust, reviving my orgasm, and vice versa. I couldn't remember the last time I had shot so long.
But, like most things, it finally had to come to an end. His spurts became smaller and longer between, as did mine. Even so, we stayed connected to each other for much longer, his cock in my hand, my cock in his ass, our tongues in each other's mouths. I continued to occasionally stroke his cock, his huge load lubricating my hand. As he did too, sometimes squeezing his ass, as if to just ensure I was still in there. And soon, the discomfort of the position we were in became apparent. During the fuck, our arousal masked the pain in my knees, the cramping in his thighs, but now our physical bodies were re-asserting themselves.
My drooping cock acted first, popping out of his hole. It brought with it a balloon-like bag of jizz encased in the condom. I used my non-cum covered hand to pull it off, and drop it onto the floor. We clumsily shifted positions, both our minds still fogged by the orgams, ending up with me on my back, him resting a little on top of me, a little to my side, his head against my pecs. I was still holding his cum in my hand, and he noticed it. He grabbed my hand and pulled it close to his face. "What's this?" he asked.
"Your boycum," I said, opening my hand for the first time. Even I was a little surprised at how much there was, my hand was covered with gobs of the thick white cream. He pulled his hand to his face, and began to lick it off of me greedily. "Hey, leave some for me," I said, and pulled it back from him. I brought my hand up to my mouth, and licked some of it up. It was everything cum should be, a little bitter, a little sweet, reeking of the scents of new manhood. I had no doubt in my mind that a steady diet of this would be repaid in the form of longer, harder erections, deeper orgasms, and a constant state of arousal -- everything that I remembered from my teenage years.
"You like it?" he asked.
"Yes, I do," I said, in between licks of my hand. I gave the hand back to him, letting him lick the last bits of it off me. After he was done, I pulled him up to me, and we kissed, tasting now not the bitter cum of the troll, or the familiar taste of my own, but rather the youthful vigor of his jizz. We swapped little bits of it back and forth, laughing as our tongues found pockets of it in each other's mouths.
After a few minutes, I broke it off, and leaned back. I was silent, just enjoying the feeling of him against me, the afterglow of the orgasm, the taste of him in my mouth. He was silent as well, but I could feel a tension in him still. "Do you want me to leave now?" he asked. There was a hint of a child's fear in the question, that the father would abandon the boy.
"No. Stay. I'm not done with you yet." His body noticably relaxed when I said that, and he held onto me a little tighter. His breathing against my chest became more regular, and as I wrapped my arm around him, feeling the warmth of his body, he fell asleep. Warmed by his embrace, I slept all too soon as well.
-- Author's note: This is the first of several parts. I'd like any feedback or thoughts people have for me -- still thinking about how the next few parts should work.