Homeboys

by Shane Allison

  “Gonna bust my nut, son,” he groaned. “Whoo, shit!”

  So much cum shot out of his dick I couldn’t swallow it all. Some of it spilled out of the corners of my mouth and ran down the sides of my face. It was much saltier than my own jizz, which I had once tasted. Otis kept pumping his dick into my mouth long after he had finished coming.

  “Spit up some of that cum,” he demanded. I know you ain’t swallowed all that.”

  He was right: a layer of semen, still warm, coated my tongue. I worked it to the front of my mouth and forced it onto my lips as if I had been chewing gum and was blowing a bubble.

  “Sloppy fuckin’ mouth,” Otis said in a satisfied tone. He swiped his spunk off my lips with three fingers and smeared it all over the top third of his dick. He took his index finger and traced the inside of my mouth for more cum. The little bit of cum he drew from the corner of my mouth shined on his finger; he licked it like it was cake batter, smacking his lips after he was done. Then he slid his greased-up cock, still rock hard, back into my mouth, rocking it in and out.

  “Yeah, you like this shit. Like getting your face fucked.”

  He let go of his dick and rhythmically thrust it in and out of my wide-open mouth. It made a soft smacking sound. He lifted his shirt over his head and behind his neck; his gut jiggled out. His chest was grown over with a pelt of black, curly hair. He sucked on both of his index fingers and began rubbing his nipples with them while he fucked my face.

  “Spoiled motherfucker suckin’ dick like a bitch,” he said. “Suck my dick all motherfuckin’ night. Brush your teeth with this big-ass dick.”

  I used both hands to pump my own throbbing dick. My muscles flexed. I breathed heavily through my nose and my legs began to quiver. Otis’s dick muffled my groan when I came. Long shots of my semen shot onto Otis’s cheap leather shoes.

  “That’s it, boy,” he said. “Throw your ropes. Throw your motherfuckin’ ropes.”

  I bucked and shook all over, tightening my oral hold on Otis black pole while he continued to sway into my cum-slick mouth. I squeezed a few more drops of cum out of my dick and gazed up at Otis. He was still working his nipples, his eyes closed, his belly shaking.

  “Damn, boy, you gon’ make me come again. Oh, shit!”

  He tossed his head back. His belly mashed against my nose and another briny load of jizz flooded my mouth. This load was just as big as the last one. A lot of it drizzled down my chin.

  Otis clamped his hands on the sides of my head while he gasped for air and finished squirting his cum into my mouth. Once he was done his soft dick fell out of my mouth and dangled between his husky thighs. A thick, glistening rope of cum hung suspended between my bottom lip and the tip of Otis’s long black dick; he wrapped it around his finger and fed it to me. He used the same finger to scoop up the cum that had fallen down my chest and smeared it inside my cheek.

  Once we had both recovered, Otis pulled his polo shirt back down over this stomach. He opened the file cabinet beside his desk and took out a roll of paper towels. He ripped off a few sheets and wiped off the semen I’d shot on his shoes.

  “Hurry up and put your clothes on before Kirk come in here.”

  He pulled up his jeans, sat in the chair behind his desk and took another swig of Hennessy before he lit up a Black ’n Mild.

  On the ride home, Kirk asked if his uncle had given me a hard time.

  “No,” I said nervously. “He was cool.”

  “He ask you about me and Brenda?” Kirk pushed on the accelerator. We were going eighty-eight down the freeway.

  “Nope,” I answered. I could still taste Otis’s and my cum in my mouth and smell his funky crotch. I was certain Kirk could smell it too.

  When he pulled in front of my house I could see a light on in Brenda’s room. The blinds over her window parted slightly.

  “Don’t forget what I told you about that envelope,” Kirk said as he patted my shoulder. “Make sure she gets it.”

  I thanked him for the ride and got out of the car. Once 2 CUTE rounded the corner I carefully opened the white envelope. Inside were five Polaroid pictures of Kirk lying naked in bed and other places with a magnificent hard-on.

  I gave Brenda all but one of the photos. In the one I kept, Kirk was lying on the hood of his Corvette, naked and hard with his eyes closed and the sun setting in the distance.

  “I don’t want this crap!”

  Brenda flung the envelope of pictures across the breakfast table. They landed on my pancakes.

  “He said to give them to you.”

  “You see? He’s already smooth-talked you, Steve. Next thing he’ll be asking you to wash his car for him. Just take his nasty pictures back to him and tell him to stop calling me.”

  She ran upstairs to put on her McDonald’s uniform.

  I kept Kirk’s photos in my backpack all day; they were like precious gems I had smuggled into my classes, and I fought the urge to take them out and handle them until, during my electrodynamics lecture, I excused myself, went to the nearest men’s room, locked myself in a stall, spit in my palm and jerked off, shooting a hot, gloppy load all over the dingy white hexagon tiles.

  I had classes until two o’clock and a lab from three to five. Since I had to take the bus, I didn’t make it to Otis’s used car lot until after six o’clock. Kirk was in the garage in back with two other guys working on a Volvo. When he saw me he came over.

  “She got real mad,” I said as I gave him back the envelope.

  He looked inside the envelope and chuckled. He grinned and scratched his cheek. “Take a ride with me.”

  “Where?”

  “Come on. I’m off, but I ain’t ready to go home yet. Let’s book.”

  We were in his car and zooming down the highway in no time. In his skintight jeans and a leather jacket, with a toothpick in his mouth, Kirk looked sexier than I’d ever seen him before. Chaka Khan sang “Sweet Thing” on the radio. I clicked my seat belt. A sticker on the glove compartment in front of me read: Only Grass, Cash or Ass Gets You a Ride in This Car.

  “Lemme ask you something, Steve,” Kirk said. “How is it I put five pictures in that envelope but only got four back?

  My back and armpits began to perspire. “Beats me.”

  “But you said Brenda didn’t want ’em. If she didn’t want the pictures why would she keep one?”

  “My sister’s crazy. You know.”

  “She’s crazy, huh?”

  I lowered my voice and tried to sound tough. “Look, man, I don’t know what you want me to say.”

  “You seen them pictures, Steve?”

  “No.”

  “Bullshit! You looked at ’em. Tell the truth.”

  He was driving ninety miles an hour. I held on to the door handle and pressed my foot flat to the floor, as if I was the one driving and could press the brake. As scared as I was, my dick was rock hard. The speed of the car and Kirk’s forceful attitude turned me on like crazy.

  Within minutes we had reached a wooded area near the Missouri-Kansas border. Kirk parked the car and turned off the ignition but left the lights on.

  “Why you gotta lie to me, Steve? I thought we was cool, man.”

  “We are.”

  “My uncle Otis said you really know how to suck dick.”

  I quivered and looked out the passenger window into the dark woods.

  Kirk took his photos out of his back pocket and lined them up on his dashboard. “Now see, all these pictures I took in my boy Don’s bedroom. The last one, the one that’s missing, I took out here. Right in this spot. It was hot and I was real horny. My boy Don took all these pictures. You don’t know him. Nobody knows about Don. He sucks dick better than any fox I been with. Even your sister. But my uncle Otis said you gave him the best head of his life.”

  I couldn’t hear anything but my own breathing. I kept my attention on the dark woods and thought for a moment about escaping into them, merging with the blackness, abandoning the material world that I had s
pent almost my whole life studying but still didn’t quite understand. Then, I blurted out, “Yeah, Kirk. I stole your picture and jerked off to it. I jerked off to it three times already. I’ve jerked off to you every day and night since Brenda started dating you. And I sucked your uncle’s dick, too. I’m gay! You gonna beat me up or something?”

  Kirk leaned over and kissed me, ramming his tongue into my mouth. He took his cock out of his jeans. “Suck this motherfucker.”

  I slurped on his cock as if my life depended on it.

  “Yeah,” he groaned. “Yeah, baby.”

  I rolled my tongue over and over his mushroom head. He started bucking a little, and I knew he was getting close to popping.

  “Work my balls, baby. Do it! Yeah! Suck those nuts!”

  He jerked his dick while I ran my tongue on his big hairy balls. Somehow I managed to get both of them in my mouth at the same time. He shoved his dick back into my mouth and started fucking my mouth really fast.

  I slipped a hand under his ass.

  “Yeah, man! Finger my ass!”

  My finger probed deep inside his anus while I devoured his cock, swallowing his precum and sniffing the stink of his pubic hair. I jacked off furiously with my other hand.

  “I want you in my ass, baby!” I said. “I want you in my ass!”

  Kirk smirked. “Want what your sister got, huh?”

  “Yeah, baby.” I spit on his cock and jerked it faster.

  We got out of his Stingray and I lay on top of the hood with my butt in the air. I spread my asscheeks and Kirk plunged his tongue as deep into my hole as it would go. I shuddered and let out a moan so loud birds flew and critters in the woods scampered.

  “Work that hole,” I said. “Eat me good. That’s it, baby.”

  He gave my ass a good hard smack; it echoed throughout the woods.

  “Like that, boy?” Kirk asked.

  “I love it, man. I fucking love it!”

  He drilled two fingers into my hole. “Want some cock up that butt?”

  “Yeah, baby.”

  He gave my ass another smack. “What was that?”

  “I want that big black dick. Hurt my ass, daddy.”

  Kirk hocked right in my asshole and shoved his cock into my virgin tight hole as far as it would go. I screamed as loud as I could.

  “Fucking shit, man! Yeah, yeah, ride my butt!”

  “Giving you what your sister got, boy.”

  “Yeah, baby.”

  He gave me long strokes, pounding me relentlessly. The pleasure and pain of being penetrated for the first time, especially by such a menacingly large dick, made the sex both unendurable and pleasurable. The echo of our flesh slapping together was like the sound of a machine. I grunted and winced, delighting in the experience of my first cock, my sister’s sloppy seconds.

  “Gonna blow,” he said. “Gonna fill up your guts, boy!”

  “Dump that load up my butt.”

  Kirk was a speed demon on my ass. My head reared back as he plunged all eleven inches of his dick deep into my guts balls deep. He moaned when his cum squirted up my butt. I gritted my teeth as he rode my haunches until he’d fully drained his balls. When he pulled out, a big glob of cum slid between my asscheeks and landed on the hood of the car. Just then I shot my own copious load, mixing it on the hood of 2 CUTE with Kirk’s cum and our sweat.

  I forgot to wear a jacket to school the next day, but in spite of the chilly fall temperature I didn’t feel cold. Instead of waiting for the bus, I decided to walk all the way home from campus. My backpack was heavy with books, as usual, but I barely noticed. All day I thought about the experience I’d had with Kirk in the woods. On the way home he had even let me suck his dick as he sped down the freeway, just like in my fantasies. He shot a load down my throat, and when he dropped me off at home I jerked off again, then again when I woke up that morning. When I got home from school I was going to call and ask him if he wanted to go out for pizza or sit in his garage and sip beer. But my hopes were dashed when I saw 2 CUTE parked in front of my house with my sister inside. She and Kirk were kissing and his hand was squeezing her breast. He opened his eyes, saw me standing in front of the car and winked.

  Paying for Protection

  Brent Archer

  Thayne Pierce turned the sign in the window of his small deli to CLOSED and grabbed the broom from the small closet next to the counter. With his third day in business over, he couldn’t wait to clean up and see how much money he’d taken in. There’d been a line out the door all three days, and Thayne ran out of cold cuts by the end of lunch. His Uncle Ray operated the deli for years, but rarely showed a profit. Thayne couldn’t figure out why, as he’d always seen a lot of potential for the shop when he’d visit from college. His uncle had retired two weeks ago and offered him the business for a song. Thayne had jumped at the opportunity.

  Ray must not have been a good businessman. This place is a gold mine. He swept around the tables and was reaching under the front of the counter to pick up a napkin when the bell over the door rang. Shit, forgot to lock the door.

  “Yo, Freddie, check out the new boy on his knees.”

  “Yeah, Joey, he already knows his place.”

  Thayne turned his head to look at the door. Four young men stood in the doorway—three Latinos and a blond spiky-haired guy. All of them had tank tops and baggy jeans, and their shoulders and arms were tattooed with gang symbols.

  The tallest one with the lean build stepped forward with a grin. Thayne frowned at the sight of yellowed and chipped teeth.

  He stood up, his chest tightening as warning sirens screamed in his head. “Sorry, guys, I’m closed. Can you come back tomorrow?”

  The tall punk shook his head, still smiling. “Nah, man, we’re not here to buy.”

  The shortest of the Latinos stepped to Thayne’s left. “We’re here to collect.”

  The young men cornered him against the meat counter display case. “Collect?”

  “Yeah.” The spiky blond grinned like a jackal ready to feed. “You behind on yo protection money.”

  “What?” Thayne’s eyes widened as a gaping hole formed in the pit of his stomach.

  “Joey, this guy don’t know whatcha mean.” The ringleader took another step toward Thayne. “See, we own this part of the city, and we protect the shops.”

  “From what?” Thayne pressed his back against the cold glass, trapped in the tightening circle of thugs.

  “Show him, Freddie.”

  The short one with the lean torso and a tattoo of a skull peeking out of the top of his tank top picked up a chair and shattered the door of the drinks cooler. A cascade of broken glass accompanied the remains of the chair as it clattered to the floor. Joey turned back and grinned. “I think he gets it, Pedro.”

  The warmth drained from Thayne’s face as the situation sank in. His pulse raced as he turned to Pedro. “What is it you want?”

  Joey crossed his arms, the grin gone. “Old man Ray paid seven hundred a week.”

  Pedro got into Thayne’s face, towering over him. “But seein’ how you’s new, we’ll start at five hundred.”

  Thayne’s stomach turned as the rank breath washing over his face punctuating Pedro’s words. He turned his head away. Pedro stepped back to the ring of thugs. “So we be back tomorrow to get your first payment.”

  Laughing, the group turned and left the deli. Thayne stood paralyzed. Sure there were gangs in the city, but his little deli surely couldn’t be a target. He shook his head. Why didn’t Uncle Ray warn me about this? Little wonder he had problems keeping the business open if he’d paid seven hundred dollars a week to these guys.

  He spent the next hour cleaning up glass from the refrigerator door. Some of the bottles also shattered when the chair hit, spraying the inside of the case and the floor with cola. After mopping up the mess and dumping the trash, he locked the door and took the till into the back room. His earlier excitement was gone, replaced by dread at the coming of the morning. He cons
idered calling the police, but someone would have to die before they showed up to investigate in this part of town.

  He counted the cash and spent two hours figuring out his expenses for the next month. At one in the morning, he put his head in his hands in dismay. He’d be out of business in three weeks if he paid what the thugs demanded.

  It was too late to walk home. The streets at this time of night were dangerous, so Thayne curled up with his jacket under his head on the floor in the office and tried to sleep. At six in the morning, he woke to a loud banging at the front door. He envisioned the four youths standing at his door before even leaving the office. Thayne peeked out the office door, his stomach tightening at the sight of the four punks from last night. Freddie, his broad chest barely contained in a black T-shirt, held a crowbar, and Joey had a pair of brass knuckles on his hands at the end of his gangly arms.

  “Yo, man, time’s up.” Pedro face widened into a wicked grin.

  Thayne’s stomach did somersaults. Fear gripping his body, he walked to the door and unlocked it.

  “Morning,” the spiky-haired punk grunted as he pushed past Thayne and into the deli. The other three came in as well.

  Pedro held out his hand. “Pay up.”

  Thayne sat at one of the tables trying not to shake. “Guys, I don’t have enough cash to pay, and even if I did, I won’t be in business more than three weeks at that rate.”

  Freddie hefted the crowbar. “We give you a break, and you still don’t pay?” The menace in his brown eyes chilled Thayne to the core.

  Pedro sat down across from Thayne. “Look man, we don’t wanna bust you up, but you gonna pay.”

  “Is there any other way we can work out a deal? Free food or something?”

  Joey brought the brass knuckles up to Thayne’s face. The metallic odor made his teeth ache like he’d bitten into aluminum foil. “We don’t need yo shitty food, boy. We need cash.”

  Pedro sat back in the chair with his hand at his chin. “Stand up.”

  Another cold chill shot through Thayne. “What?”