Walk in Lies Chapter 5

Sometimes I wallow in the mire and root for garbage. This story might be that.  The following story is for adults and contains graphic descriptions of sexual contact between tweens,  adolescents and adult males. There is, of course, a power imbalance in these varied relationships, and considerations of consent are blurred.

If you are a minor, then it is illegal for you to read this story. If you find the subject objectionable, then read no further. All the characters, events and settings are the product of my overactive imagination. I hope you find it cathartic. Feel free to respond.

If you would like to comment, contact me at eliot.moore.writer@gmail.com.

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(First Edition Posted May, 2007)

Walk in Lies
To the Dregs

It has been a day of unimaginable humiliation. Mica is numb. His afternoon date is a high school student who knew his sister and the boy he had met in the high school boy’s room when Cain discovered him on his knees. “Okay, what’s with the cheap street hooker look?”

Strike two, Mica thinks to himself. Alea has enough imagination to picture him in this Hollywood Pretty Woman prostitute outfit, but not enough imagination to work out the reaction ordinary Tricks would have walking out with a guy decked out like a pole dancer. The Trick’s question is addressed to Mica. Vikki is by the front door and if you listen very carefully, you can hear Cain grunting on top of Alea in their parent’s bedroom.

“Just advertising the goods.” Mica replies.

“Yeah, well, I’ve seen you about the school, Mica.”

Desmond Loughty, the name pops into Mica’s head. Utterly forgettable, except he is the Go-To nerd for buying school assignments. They say the fag will write an authentic grade nine essay for $40. Mica assumed the term was derogatory, not descriptive. Apparently, he was wrong.  

At least Burley and Finn are fit, Mica dredges up some humour. He immediately makes himself forget the Great Dane. Unfortunately, the Lout is rather like Burley: over-sized, awkward, dog-faced hairy. The Lout is 6’2”, pushing 230 pounds of not muscle. The seventeen-year old does not shave, either because he thinks it is manly, or a razor aggravates his morbid acne.

“I’m sorry, Dave. I’m afraid I can’t do that.” The Lout gestures at the fishnet and spandex. “So, like go put on some clothes for gosh sake!”

Mica casts an apologetic look toward Vikki. She knows where his street clothes are and he does not. Once again, the costume’s failure is Mica’s fault. She shoots daggers at him, and they retreat to the sisters’ room.

The Lout is driving his mom’s SUV. Mica is poor, the Lout’s family is managing better. Mica sits shotgun in his comfortable shorts and T-shirt. “Those Sykes are three chapters short of a novel, don’t you think?” Mica thinks there might be only one chapter in the book worth reading, little Finn’s. “I saw your advertisement on SnapChat.” The Lout looks Mica’s way. “You probably do alright, don’t you? You didn't advertise at the school very well last year. Still, not much of a market with teenagers, is there?”

Mica clears his throat. “I date men.”

“I’m impressed, Mica. It makes good sense. You have to capitalize on your strengths. I’ve got brains. Some guys get the muscles to be jocks. That is going to be their ticket, am I right? If you only have half a brain,  you sell burgers and fries. You McJob yourself with what you have. You? Well you recognized your strength, didn’t you? I’m impressed.”

Impressed that my dumb-blond brain worked out that I could sell my ass for cash. Mica allows all this patronizing patter to wash over him. Everything always depends on not annoying the Tricks.

“You don’t give it away like the other cheerleader types, Mica. Always put a price tag on it. The trick is to upmarket. I’m going to try the university campus in September. English papers, social sciences, you can bullshit stuff like that. Undergrads will pay me more.”

The Lout smiles patronizingly at Mica. “You are a Pink Sheet hooker. You know what that is?”

“No”

“Lowest form of all. A street walker in cheap clothes like you were wearing. Just a phone call away. You have the looks. You want to be Blue Chip, Mica.”

Mica clears his throat again. “That makes sense. So where are we going?”

“Nana’s house.” The Lout explained. “She is not there, obviously. She goes out to her sister’s farm in the summer. I feed the cat, cut the lawn. She pays me.” Everything is a transaction for the Lout. Mica’s selling his prick and ass is just good business.

“So, I’m a virgin, go figure.” The teenager grins in a self-depreciating way. “I picked up this woman on the street, just to see if I was straight, or bi. I’m not. Can you get it up with a girl? Never mind, it doesn’t matter. Your parents are Holy Rollers or something?”

“They are something,” Mica assures the Lout.

“You’re not out at school. Well you’re out. I mean, all us fags figure you are a flaming queen, but I bet your parents don’t know. Well, mine don’t know I do other people’s homework, that’s for sure.” The Lout gives Mica the stern look Mica’s father gives him. “Cain Sykes is a dangerous bully. I think he is a psycho. Trust me, I know.” He closes his mouth. Mica Laar is an Airhead cock-hound, he concludes. Mica is one of those pretty types who always picks the bad boy.

“Make a man of me.” The Lout instructs.

Over the month, there have been men who liked Mica to get bossy with them. One time he dated a sub with a fatal fetish for young prick. Mica made him grovel for the raping prick Mica shoved up his ass. The lout wants to be schooled, not schooled like that.

Mica undresses himself first, so the Lout will be more comfortable. “Go ahead, touch,” He encourages. Soft hands explore hesitantly. “I like that,” Mica encourages when the teen probes his sensitive anus. He flinches at the touch.

“Did that hurt? Say, did you have sex already?”

Mica considers the question. “Yesterday, this afternoon, that does not matter. Stick it in if you want.” The Lout lets a digit sink to the knuckle. “Yeah, like that.” This is a seduction (of sorts) the contact makes Mica hard against the sweaty mountain of flesh. The Lout tries a few kisses. He does not like the tongue exchange. “It’s okay, this is your time.” Mica reassures him.

Desmond Loughty steps away from the hooker’s close cuddle so he drinks in the sophomore's beauty. Nana’s cat is a lazy jelly roll purring its entitlement on a lap. Nana’s cat is Garfield. It rouses itself to keen out its backyard territory when a rival comes around. Mica is the garbage eating, bird hunting alley cat Garfield hisses at. Wet-cat slender and dancer graceful.

“Turn around,” The Lout bites the side of his lip and he unconsciously pinches at a boil on his jaw. Mica’s cat-hips gyrate around until the only plumpness on his body faces the seventeen-year old Trick. He’s like a porno picture, the Lout thinks. Beneath the round swells, the hooker’s thighs are so slender-spare-muscled that his thighs don’t touch. You can see daylight. You might see Mica’s balls hanging down.

The Lout’s eyes widen when he understands the fresh tic-tac-toe of stripes across Mica’s ass and upper thighs. He does not know why he is just looking. He steps forward and traces the lines about the hooker’s ass. Mica just lifts his arms and loosens the fall of hair so it cascades onto his shoulders. The lout runs an open palm down the hooker’s inner thigh. He stretches a thumb out to touch the back of Mica’s scrotum.

“It’s like that, hey? Told you the Sykes’ guy was an asshole.” The Lout just has to run his hand up and down the ridiculously flat surface of the hooker’s torso. “Or do guys pay you to do this to you?” His hand bumps into Mica’s boner. One hand kneading an ass cheek, the other grasps the hard prick.

Cheerleaders, only thinking about getting fucked, the Lout confirms. Sluts ready to go down on their boyfriend sports gods right in the fucking hallway. Mica had that look. Anyone with half a brain could see the Freshman’s crotch start to bulge and drip around some Student Council Jock. The Lout wrinkles his nose.

Mica undresses the Lout next. The Lout is respectable, not the Deacon though. The nerd is shy about his long boner. They work the shyness out with more touching. Nothing in Mica’s face or hands suggests judgement about the Lout’s bulk. If anything, Mica is caught up with the notion of Finn touching him in the shower. He gives the nerd his first blow job. The Lout’s spunk fills Mica’s mouth too quickly. The Lout gives Mica head, and that takes longer. Mica knows that will not be all.

“I don’t know if I like this long hair.” The Lout is running the flow through his fingers like a comb. Mica’s hair brushes his shoulder blades. He would let it grow down to his ass just to piss off his father. My hair is God’s strength in me, he tells his father virtuously. It kills Henry Laar to have no ready comeback. “I want to fuck you.” The Lout decides. “How do I fuck you?”

Doggy style, of course; Mica almost runs out of Nana’s house naked as he flashbacks to the bad trip in the sisters’ bedroom and the dog. The Lout is Burley-rough on his back, hands squeezing into his narrow waist. Mica does not run. The grotesque clumsiness of the Lout’s first effort turns Mica on. The sheer weight of man pressing down and into him commands some sort of obedience. He has not recovered from the Deacon’s multiple assaults. The pain is there. The Lout’s prick seems to probe for the pain, mock his sensitive anus.

“Hmmmm, aigh! Hmmmm, ugh, ugh, ugh,” then “ga, ga, ugh, ngnnnn.” The Lout asks him if he is okay. “Fuck me! Do it!” Do not pass Go, do not pass Go, do not pass Go. “Fuck me!” And this seems to be a comment on the first waves rippling around in Mica’s gut. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop!” He needs the rasp across his anus, the intrusion in his rectum. Whack! Whack! Whack! The teenage cock reminds him of the savage beating. There are ropes in Mica’s mind. A memory-rope chokes his groin, stokes the growing heat of his loins. “Aughhh,” Mica begins and he keeps sounding his submission in a high tremble till the made-man on his back dumps his load into a condom.

“That was interesting, very intense.” The Lout has gone for a snack in the kitchen. Nana’s chocolate chip oatmeal cookies. He has Poker hand in his fist. Mica lies recovering on the carpet. Can’t do it in Nana’s bed, the Lout explained apologetically. “I don’t think I want to try being a bottom. Do you like being told what to do? The marks on your ass? Are you into Sadomasochism?”

Mica does not know the answer to that question. This summer, pain comes his way through the Sykes’ brutal plans. Pain comes his way and it mingles with the shame of capitulating to Cain’s barbarism. Copper Pain and Tin Pleasure are melting in the furnace of Mica’s shame to form his body into a prick-hard Bronze Tool shaped for copulation. This is the consummation of all his sexual desires. Men, boys, fuck me, make me cum with their ropes of cum. Mica gets why Desmond Loughty would pay to end his virginity. We all want to cum any way we can. 

“Are we done?” The Lout asks with a frown.

“This is your date, Desmond. Are we done?” Mica’s answer is an answer to the Lout’s question. He is the Bitch-boy here. He is the whore. The last orgasm is the Trick’s, not his to decide (or have).

“I’m going to feed the cat, then watch some Crave. Fuck! Nana likes Crave for all the old shows.”

The Lout watches Next Generation with his shirt back on. Mica sits Yoga still on the carpet. “Star Trek gets a lot of science right.” The Lout ticks off a list on his fingers. “Matter-Antimatter generation, real thing. Impulse engines, 3,300 planets already found. Carbon-based for sure, half human/half alien hybrids like Spock? I bet that’s a possibility. Subspace, that’s a real thing.” The Lout stops talking while he concentrates on the action. “You don’t talk much, do you?”

Mica shifts uncomfortably at this criticism. “I’m sorry, do you want me to talk?” The Lout is the type to complain in the cafeteria line if a French fry gets too close to his jello. “I … I don’t watch shows like this. It’s cool,” Mica quickly adds, “My parents would never let me watch it.”

“Seriously?” The Lout remembers Mica’s family is religious. “No Game of Thrones, no Harry Potter?”

“The books in the school library.” Mica explains.

“Good for you.” The Lout dispenses this like a dog treat. The bimbo can read graphic novels. He submerges into his episode again, only to surface. “Do you talk dirty?”

“Should I?” If all Mica had to worry about was annoying this Nerd, he could handle it. Alea is customer service, the Lout will beak off about how unsatisfactory Mica has been. Mica cannot handle that, he just cannot handle that. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Mica.” There is a break while the Lout catches up on episode events. “Okay, let’s hear something.”

“Grab my hair and fuck me like a dog. I want to feel your cum all over my face. I want to taste myself on your cock after your long shaft makes my pussy bleed.”

Mica turns full-slut for the seventeen-year old’s amusement. He is on his knees like a bitch in heat. His pelvis is rocking like the Lout is deep in his rectum. The words slide out drunk with his desire for the Lout’s manhood. “I want you to breed me like an animal!” Mica strokes his dangling flesh. His eyes roll up and his lips part, inviting some phallus to lie heavy on his panting tongue.

Mica licks his lips like they are dry. “Oh God, Damion! I haven’t even left yet and I keep fantasizing about what you’re going to do to me next time. I need to feel your cock inside of me, feel you on top of me and in control!” Mica is an agonized junkie begging for his next fix. He is Bitch-boy jonesing for a fresh mainline up his ass. “Oh God, Damion! I need it now!”

“Yeah, maybe not. Just suck my dick.”

Mica suckles on the Lout’s limp prick. Soft, it fills Mica’s mouth generously. A little piss leaks out. Mica is on the prick and scrotum forty-minutes till Picard’s last, make it so. Star Trek, or Mica’s lips have made the Lout hard again.

“Let’s fuck again.” The heavy teenager decides. There is a new position to learn. “Are you clean?” The Lout asks Mica as his prick is poised over Mica’s anus. “Do you always use a condom?”

“Yeah, of course!” Mica answers. His hands are behind his knees and Nana's brocade pillow props his hips up so the Lout gets the full frontal.

“Awesome!” The Lout crows triumphantly. He strips the latex off and buries his eager prick in Mica’s rectum before Mica can protest. “I always wanted to try bareback.” The Lout’s face scrunches up when his prick encounters the dry resistance of Mica’s flesh. He is determined to make this work.

Mica thinks the teenager prefers to ride his back. Perhaps this is face to face is a lover’s position, and they are not that. Perhaps the Lout keeps his shirt on because he is shy about his spare tire, from behind is another reason to avoid letting Mica see him naked.

“Just a sec, stay right where you are, don’t move a muscle.” The Lout vanishes, and Mica lies open, holding his legs splayed out. “Just an idea.” The teenager explains when he returns with a fist full of Nana’s belts.

Mica’s wrists get tied to his ankles. “Do you get tied up much?”

“If you want.” Is Mica’s only reply. “I brought some better lubricant.” He adds.

“No,” The Lout is Alea-confident that he knows better. A heavy tube of hand lotion is upended in Mica’s anus. The Lout squeezes until the tube is exhausted. “Should do.” He informs the bound hooker.

“Oh shoot! My stiffy is gone!” The Lout starts masterbating himself. He is feeling performance anxiety, so Mica suggests he bring the prick around to his mouth. The Lout watches the TV again while Mica resumes his ministrations. The teenager pulls out and looks at Mica’s face between his heavy thighs. Slap! “Look at my cock, not at me.” He feeds his plump cock back into Mica’s open mouth. He rocks over Mica’s face as the next episode plays on.

The Lout is getting off on this. Mica bound and his semi-soft prick in a boy’s mouth. From time to time, when a scene gets boring, the Lout pulls off and slaps Mica. “You like that?” Slap! “You like that, bitch?” This is all tentative, the slaps are not hard, he is exploring intonation as much as he is deconstructing the sensations of his prick in Mica’s warm cavity. This is exploration. After each light slap, Mica’s mouth reaches out for the prick. The Lout tries grinding his expanding prick between the whore’s lips. “Oh yeah, you like that, bitch. Oh, yeah, I’m going to choke you with my cock. Gonna make you pass out.”

The Lout returns to riding Mica bareback. He experiments with choking Mica’s throat, slapping him lightly as he penetrates into the warm cavity full of Nana’s coconut-scented hand cream. The teenager has found porno, read stories. He has ideas now that he is not feeling like a virgin. “Going slow, boy, going slow!” There is a noticeable (unnoticed) ring of pink hand cream about the base of the Lout’s prick. “You ever done more than one man at a time?”

“No”

“Would you?”

“It costs more, I think.” Mica is only half-hard because the action is all inside mingling with the singing coconut pain.

“You’d like that?” The prick keeps penetrating and the Lout is telling Mica about his geek-friends. Pimply misfit virgins like himself who would grab a chance with anything. “Take turns on you. How does it go? A cock in your ass, another in your throat. That was hot, you sucking my cock. This is hotter. Yeah, I don’t think I want someone’s cock up my ass. I’m a top, definitely a top. What’s wrong? Are you okay? Are you having a heart attack? Are you epileptic?”

Mica is orgasming helplessly underneath 230 pounds of boned coconut nerd using him like a fuck-toy.

“Ohhhh! Orgasm, I get it.” The Lout starts ramming his boner into Mica. It is like he wants to pump orgasm-coconut oil out of a dry whore-hole. “Yeah, oh!” Then the Lout ejaculates his nerdy spunk into Mica’s quaking guts. “Gonna breed you, gonna breed you! Fucking a boy in your living room Nana! Fuck … ing … a … boy’s … ass.” The Lout grunts out like he is lifting his mom’s SUV off of Mica’s pinned body.

The Lout sits back on his haunches, fascinated by the way Mica’s moist sphincter closes his bruised anus in slow motion. He likes to think the rose-tinted cream gathered about the brown lips is his spunk leaking out. He grabs a Diet Coke and a bowl of Doritos before returning to the living room. The big teenager is not a Sadist. He just forgot that Mica was still tied wrists to ankle. He is more worried about his Nana’s belts than Mica. Mica stretches out while the Lout returns his grandmother’s things.

Mica takes a break in Nana’s lavender scented bathroom. The nightmare of the Sykes’ home falls away in the fresh sexual afterglow. Each to his own, Mica examines himself with Nana’s handheld mirror. His anus is a window into opportunity. To Mica, topping is a one handed clap. The Lout has no idea what he is missing when he refuses to be penetrated. Mica looks at himself in the mirror and he smiles. Risky business, he is naked in a strange house with an equally strange partner. Mica likes that when he steps out of Nana’s frilly bathroom, he steps back into the unknown of the Lout’s next sexual whim.  

Mica is not vain. Vanity is a deadly sin. Henry Laar and Mica’s pastor make that clear relentlessly. Mica is a humble guitar passed from one hand to the next. Tricks tighten his strings, play their melodies and Mica vibrates deliciously. If the hand strikes the guitar body, the sounding board vibrates more. This is all Mica wanted when he lured the jock into the high school bathroom. He wants to fucking vibrate.

“I don’t really want to kiss you, but suck my cock again. That was cool. I like that.” Mica complies. The Lout has picked the purple couch again. Mica massages the meaty thighs, as if to praise the Lout’s masterful manhood. “Hey!” This brings Mica’s face up. “It is sort of funny when you let me slap you.” Slap! “Not too hard, right? Just for fun.” Slap! 

Mica is cleaning himself off the Lout’s prick. There is an bronze tang to remind him his punished ass really needs a break from sex. The Lout slumps on the sofa so his prick is more accessible. Just up and down, tongue around the fat gland, Mica massages the Lout’s prick. The high school bathroom to Nana’s 80’s couch, Mica gives good head.

“Your long hair is easy to grab.” Mica’s head is jerked off the prick. Slap! “You like that?”

The Lout is seventeen and this is far more exciting than jacking off to porn videos. He bones up a fourth time while the phasers are set to stun. The Lout slides to the edge of Nana’s couch so his five inches find the back of Mica’s convulsing throat and he leaves the dregs behind. “Feeding a bitch on your couch, Nana!” The Lout gathers a knot of Mica’s hair at the base of his neck and presses the compliant face onto his crotch. “Who’s the man? Who’s the man?” Mica’s throat gags around the Lout’s prick’s corona deliciously.

Mica sits subservient between the nerd’s knees. It is late and he should report back to Alea. Alea will be angry if he is late two nights in a row. Alea might be angry enough to ask Cain to take him to the basement. Throw him down the stairs, because nothing will induce Mica to walk down voluntarily. There is seductive pain to forge bronze, he is learning, then there is simply pointless breaking pain.

Desmond Loughty is the man. The only member of his Fortnite circle who is not a masturbating virgin. They can all pay their own prostitutes, Desmond decides. It would be nice if he could prove he lost his virginity, but the rest of them were into girls anyway. They would fuck Mica if Desmond offered his smooth ass to their hardons.

Desmond considers the strange creature between his legs. This whole sex for money thing Mica does is like Desmond’s writing other people’s papers. Desmond has to do it the client’s way, sort of. We are providing a service, the seventeen-year old reasons.  

Desmond stuffs a few Nachos in his mouth. Mica sits completely focussed on nothing. Strange creature, Desmond fucked and slapped this boy, and Mica is just sitting there waiting to be told what Desmond wants to do next. That’s why I need money, so people will respect me like this. I am so beyond this prostitute. I will get to fly into the class reunion on a black helicopter while Mica is still sucking cock in the bushes.

This hooker will do anything Desmond wants, because Desmond paid for this. This is freaking Wolf of Wall Street shit. Desmond lifts his hand and watches the hooker’s eyes follow the palm upward. Mica looks back at Desmond, and then Slap! Just enough to say, Who’s the boss? The boy just blinks and turns his head with the blow. Mica bites his lip, sits waiting for what the Wolf of Wall Street wants next.

“School’s a nightmare, isn’t it? You get bullied a lot?” Slap! Desmond Loughty leaves a smear of Nacho dust across Mica’s cheek. The hooker-bitch just pushes his long hair back over his shoulder and shifts on his haunches. Desmond is curious. He takes another handful of chips with his other hand. When he is done, Slap! “You get bullied much?” He asks again. Now there is a streak of orange on the other cheek. Probably not, Desmond concludes.

This is what the cool kids in school don’t get. The Lout realizes triumphantly. We have to be the star of our own show. We want to be Captain Kirk, or evil Khan Noonien Sing. Wrath of Khan was cool, the teenager sips his Diet Coke. The Lout feels like a genetically engineered superhuman cock with subhuman Mica at his feet.

Handsome is just a commodity for people who matter. Mica just waits vacuously for Desmond’s next godlike whim. At school, they laugh at Desmond. People like Mica ignore him or ridicule him. But Desmond has money so he can buy this. Who is laughing now? It is like Desmond is Khan and he implanted a Ceti eel in this bimbo’s brain. Khan infected Chekhov and Desmond Loughty owns Mica Laar.

The prostitute is just going to let him keep doing this. It’s a crazy power Desmond has here. The Lout takes Mica’s hair in his hand really slowly, then Slap!  Once more across the pretty, pimple-free face he paid for. “Are you hard? Is your cock hard?” Desmond pulls back on Mica’s head so the throat is exposed and Mica’s torso arches away from his crotch.

The whore has a raging boner. Desmond strokes the velvet soft skin covering all that hardness. The TV flicker catches his eye I, Borg, episode 23 from the fifth season. His friends talk endlessly about this episode, really intellectual stuff. Desmond slumps back on the couch. He grabs a handful of Doritos. “Suck on my cock again, Mica. You’re good at that.”

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