Spare Change
The following story is set in the Unighted Kingdom
I hope you enjoy it, please give drop me an email with any feedback, I love to hear what people think!
'Excuse me?' The irritating, whining tone immediately got my back up, 'You couldn't help us out could ye?' The homeless guy had sallow, tanned skin and a short beard, 'I'm homeless right? And I need a place to stay for the night...'
This was the third time I'd heard the same snivelling story this evening as I walked home from a late shift '... I only need five quid and I'll have enough...'
His words were slurred, his eyes drowsy, shifty, never quite making eye contact, 'I wouldn't ask mate, I wouldn't...'
His cheeks were sunken beneath high cheekbones and he wore a woollen hat 'just a couple of quid mate, I wouldn't ask honest, I wouldn't but....'
'Twenty quid.' I think my interruption surprised me as much as it surprised him, but the words were already coming out of my mouth, 'if you suck my dick.' He looked at me dumb-founded, then affronted, 'Fuck you.' He said, but he didn't walk away, he just stood on unsteady feet looking at me, pathetic, I couldn't help myself, just to see how far I could push him, 'Twenty quid, no questions asked. You want my money you can work for it...'
'I'm no poof' he looked angry but he still didn't leave, the sad shit was thinking about it, 'Come on, you can have a nice hot shower too, right now.' He just paused, swaying slightly, he made the tiniest nod with his head, looking at the floor. I froze for a second; I hadn't actually expected this... Fuck it.
We walked the short distance to my flat, it was in a nice, inner-city apartment block and I could feel my heart beating, terrified someone would see me with this vagrant, but we didn't cross paths with anyone in the complex. Under the fluorescent lights I could see his faded, dirty clothes, his eyes were blue and sad, staring at the floor, he said nothing, neither did I. I felt almost awkward until I remembered the whimpering voice, the lying, the other tramps pawing at me all day asking for money. We were inside my place now, 'Right. Strip,' his shoulders were tense and raised, his hands stuffed in his pockets, 'listen, mate, I might just leave it like, I can't...'
'Strip.' It was weird, I wasn't into this, why would I want a blowie from some bum, but he was just so irritating, so passive, he slowly started to take off the layers of clothes, all the time studying the pale carpet, when he was completely naked I left him standing there cringing, my eyes roaming over his slim body, his full bush of pubic hair over an uncut dick, hairy balls pulled tightly into his nervous body, my own dick was beginning to twitch, he wasn't attractive exactly, but I felt powerful, superior, making this straight man do exactly what I wanted. I'd taken my dick out now and was flopping it around indulgently, he just looked at it, fingers fidgeting together, shoulders raised.
'On your knees.' He obeyed the command, my cock was getting harder in my hand, 'open your mouth' his thin lips parted, `lick it.' He looked up at me, eyebrows furrowed, 'you heard me.' His tongue darted out and licked the head in short reluctant flashes, his eyes were screwed tightly closed.
'Look at me, look at me and put it in your mouth.' His eyes opened and met mine for a second before looking away, his lips surrounded my head and he bobbed backwards and forwards but with as little contact between my dick and the inside of his mouth as possible, 'That's not how you suck a dick and you know it.' I put my hands firmly on both sides of his head, 'Look at me. Look into my eyes' I pushed my dick slowly into his throat as his sad blue eyes looked into mine, as I slowly and deliberately thrust in and out, all the way, the blue of his eyes became extenuated by the whites turning pink and watery, he made quiet little gagging noises, I had to remind him to look me in the eye a few times but eventually he fell into rhythm.
Eyes locked with mine, he bobbed up and down my shaft, suckling on the end, trying his best to take it deep before gagging, but still he didn't stop, always looking right into my eyes, his expression wasn't helpless anymore, it slowly became intense, lust, or something like it. When instructed to lick it he lapped at it noisily. As I got closer to cumming he allowed me to take hold of his tear streaked face and fuck into his throat, wet choking noises escaping from him as he avoided pulling away with remarkable stamina. And when at last I did come, one hand under his coarsely bearded chin, one grasping his hair, he swallowed at the jizz as it came out of me, then stuck out his tongue for the last oozing dribbles.
Filled with post-coital euphoria I collapsed smiling on the carpet beside him, he'd surprised me, he sucked like a trouper, 'That was awesome,' I panted 'Thanks man, I didn't think you had it in you!' I slapped him on his pale back-side, He was still sitting on his knees, arms by his sides, he didn't say anything, I sat up to see his face, looking blankly at the floor, I thought about making some joke about him working for his money after all, but somehow it didn't seem so funny now, I suddenly felt self-conscious about my dick hanging out, 'Um, I'll get my wallet.' I wanted him to put his clothes on. I had a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach. He didn't react, just looked at the floor, 'You said about a shower.' His voice was quiet but steady, 'I'd like to have a shower.' He didn't look at me, but he seemed composed, 'Yeah, right this way, there's towels in the cupboard.
Help yourself to shower gel and whatever... Obviously, er...' I babbled all the way to the bathroom and stood looking at him stupidly as he closed and locked the door, I took the twenty from my wallet and then found myself scrabbling through my jacket pockets looking for another note, it felt like an age before he came back out of the steaming room, he was dressed in his same old clothes but he looked refreshed, his head held higher I handed him the money and he put it in his pocket silently, I tried to say something about it actually being brilliant, about feeling some kid of connection but all that came out was a quiet 'Thanks' he didn't reply, just looked at me with those blue eyes, a subtler version of that strange, intense look. But it wasn't lust, it was closer to pity, or scorn. He closed the door behind him and I sat in the hall staring at the wall, reliving the experience in my head, recounting the things I'd said like a cheesy American porn star, imagining myself leering above him, speaking to him like a piece of shit.
The next day, on my way to work a different homeless guy approached me; 'Alright mate, you could spare some change...' He was cut off when I thrust the money into his grubby hands, now it was me avoiding eye contact, 'Ah. Thanks mate.' He was saying, but I was already rushing away, my cheeks blushing.