++++I peer out there to check that no one under 18 is reading my stuff. I don't want it and neither do other adults. Please come back after you are 18.
My name is Stevie, at least that is what they called me at the state facility for boys. I was a ward of the state, just because my parents dropped me in front of it when I eight years old.
It wasn't too bad; well I really had nothing to compare it with except what I saw in the movies they showed every Saturday night. The food kept me alive, but sure didn't compare to MacDonald's.
When I reached 18 they said I was emancipated, gave me $25.00 and new pants, shirt and jacket and said goodbye. Before I left I already knew what I would do for money. Nellie, the institution queer told me all about street hustling. I paid for the informational instruction by offering my big cock for sucking. Nellie told me that I was the best looking kid he had ever seen. "You could be a movie star," he cooed. My mirror told me that it was true. I was six feet tall with thick brown hair and rugged build. I could have appeared on the naked firemen calendars with my pale blue eyes and Irish good looks. But I had other plans.
I knew that Nellie was right; I could parlay my looks into real cash. I would sell my junk for money. He helped me develop a menu to offer: $10.00 for a look, $25.00 to see me get off, and $50.00 to suck me.
I got out there on the street and hustled my ass every night. Sometimes it was cold as a witch's tit, but before long some older, fat guy would stop and ask the usual stupid questions, "Would you like to party? What do you do? How much? Are you a cop?"
Now that last question seemed to pop up more often as I passed through my nineteenth and twentieth birthdays. I guess my heavy beard shadow and rugged looks suggested that I could be a vice cop. "No, I'd answer, I'm no cop; I hate cops." That usually did it because the mark was so anxious to get into my pants that he could convince himself of anything.
As the years went by, I got real good at picking out the best johns. I increased my prices twice in the last year. First of all I was particularly aware of the car. I found that Town Cars, or Mercedes were yielded the best. Sport cars? I avoided them. I wasn't looking for wise guys on the prowl.
As far as the johns were concerned, I found that slightly fat ones with baby faces of about forty or fifty years old were the best. I always controlled the game as soon as I entered the car. I forced them to make the first move, just in case they were really cops. I let them make the pitch for the price. Once that was out of the way I'd get down to business.
If one were stupid to ask if I would suck them, I'd put my hand on the car door handle and make as if I was going to leave. That usually settled them down. "You want to see it?" They'd begin to breath hard and shake their heads up and down, yes. I'd unzip my pants, reach in and make a show of searching for it, then bringing it out. They'd usually groan in appreciation and admire the size of it. I'd move my foreskin back and forth, getting myself hard. Then I'd stop. "That's all you get."
That would bring forth pleas. "I'll pay you an extra ten if you just keep doing that and if you can get yourself off in my hand, I'll pay you a hundred."
Now all this hustling was working out. I was able to buy a nice car, a Camero, red, too. I started out living at the Y, now I had a small apartment downtown, near my action area. But I was beginning to hate the routine of acting like a whore and showing myself off like a girl. I thought about it for weeks and finally came up with a better way. That was a year ago. Now I was averaging one thousand a week instead of half that I had made hustling.
I guess you want to know how I do it and what it involved. Well if hustling is against the law, this new trick is seriously more illegal, but it sure is effective and lucrative. To say it right I was robbing them, but they deserved it and should have stayed home with the wife and kids and not be out prowling for handsome boys.
I began the usual way, walking up to the car. Once inside I waited until my victim took my cock out. Then I'd flash a badge. It was a real convincing one, I bought it at a novelty store. It said "London Metropolitan Police" but they never looked closer enough to read it.
"You are under arrest," I'd say in my most manly voice. "My black and white is around the corner, let's go."
By now they would be shaking and blubbering and telling me about how an arrest would ruin their life and marriage. "I'm sorry, but I have no alternative."
Then they would begin to look a little crafty. "I'd be glad to give you a hundred if you let me go." I'd laugh. Then they'd up the ante. Usually I could get a couple hundred out of them. I didn't accept checks or credit cards, but business was so good, I ought to have. I had tripled my income. Life was good. I bought new furniture for my apartment and a 40: Flat Panel TV, plus spin rims for the car.
This new scam began to pale after a year. The word got out because the queens gossip and soon it spread to the johns. I needed to new ploy and I chose a drastic one. It was pretty macho and I enjoyed being that way for a change.
The routine was risky, but the rewards were even greater. Instead of just getting a couple of hundreds, I got the whole poke, often up to a thousand. Once I really hit the jackpot, the guy must have been on the way to bank the week's receipts. The take was....can you believe it.....4800 dollars.
Here's how the strong-arm robbery (yeah, might as well call it for what it was) worked. It was fast too. When I approached the drive and he asked what I do, I'd mince a little and say I liked to suck cock. They'd go into ecstasies over that and flung open the car door. I'd enter. "Take out your cock, please," I'd plead. In a minute their hard cock was sticking out of their pants. With one hand I'd take a hard grip on their penis, and the other hand held a knife. "I'll make you a six year old boy if you don't hand over your wallet." They'd cry and beg me not to cut them. Their penis was their greatest treasure and any amount of money was worth saving it.
The take was great. I was always nice enough to drop their wallet in the mailbox. I wasn't into credit card scams.
Although I had a closet of great clothes, bought in the best stores, I always wore my working clothes for my professional activities. They consisted of high top black sneaks, black tee shirt and very tight jeans. On this particular night I was dressed as usual and a long Buick Roadmaster pulled up. Not my usually favorite mark's car, but it was impressive. I went over to the car after it stopped. I looked inside. There was a young guy, probably my age. He was a real beauty: curly blond hair and smooth face with very handsome features. I found that I was getting a rush just from looking at him. I changed my routine about wanting to suck cock and returned to my old menu 'cause I was dying to have him suck me. We agreed on the price $100 and I slipped into the car. As soon as my back settled against the nice leather cushions the kid said, "Take out your cock. What's your name? I'm Randy." And he laughed.
"Stevie," I said, grunting as my cock came into view.
"Nice," he said. "I wish I had more time to socialize, but I have to arrest you. It's a shame because those savages in jail will really vulcanize your ass." Then he extracted some plastic ties and secured my hands behind my back and also my ankles.
There I sat, trusted up, waiting to be taken to the squad car I knew was around the corner. I didn't crack like a baby. I just waited. But I did ask if he would put my cock back in my pants.
He looked at it a moment. "It perfect,, too good to waste," Then the fucking bastard began shaking it and stroking it. Naturally it got a little hard. "That's it boy, let it really get hard."
In a few moments, his expert wanking began to produce a little precum on the head and the color was changing from pink to red, a sure sign that I was getting with the stimulation.
"Oh shit, officer. I wish you did suck, I could really use it. Shit I am so horny."
"I know boy. Tell you what. Let's trade. You suck me and I'll suck you."
"You mean you really are queer. I never heard of a queer cop. Will you let me go if I do it?"
As he moved his curving smooth cock toward my mouth, he muttered, "We'll see."
Now his wet cock was knocking on my closed lips. He stroked me faster and I gave in and let the tip enter my mouth. The precum was sweet and acted like a drug, I groaned and gave in to my first cock sucking experience.
"You're good at this," he said hoarsely. I never cum fast, but you are so good looking and your lips are so hot, I am doing everything I can not to spew right now. Oh, yeah, that tongue!"
Meanwhile I was lost in the first time experience of bringing pleasure to another guy. I never knew my tongue could swirl and lick and my mouth gently vacuum. Soon my nose was pressed against his pubes that smelled of soap and, and, Randy. I allowed his cock to slide slowly down my throat and gulped and swallowed rapidly. He rubbed my hair and caressed my neck as he felt himself going into his orgasm. I could here him huffing and puffing and grunting and crooning as he let go. The excitement of feeling his pulsing cock shoot sweet sperm into my throat was all I could stand, I shot heavy, five time, soaking his hand and my jeans.
When it was over he said, "Stevie, get out. You can go."
Well I ran out and went all the way back to my apartment and sank into a chair, still breathing hard and trying to relax after that close call with the law.
I stayed off the street for about a week, still nervous. Finally, I stood in my usual place when I had to shrink into the dark recess of the doorway because I could see the long black Buick coming into view. I saw two of the boys run toward the car. One of them was picked and he entered and the car sped away, I guess to a more private area. The kid who was not picked resumed his place near me.
"Shit, that cute guy. I had him last week, he was excellent, but this time the Chinese kid got him. He is so hot!"
I said to the boy, "You fucking dope, don't you know he's a cop?"
The boy looked at me. "Yeah, that's what gets him off, claiming to be fuzz. I hope you didn't fall for it."
End
There are all kinds out there. I wonder what happened to Stevie. Will he still be hustling at age 30? I'd like to believe that he met a rich guy who takes care of him and he lives in a mansion in Westchester.