Skater Boys

by Neil Plakcy

  “Take it, punk! Yeah! Take that cock to the balls!”

  “Yeah! Gimme that fat dick! Is that all…the…uhhhnnnn… fuck…you got?”

  Cory pulled back out with a juicy squish, aimed for the battered hole and slammed back in. The tight asscheeks heaved and jiggled as his hips smacked against them. At the same time, he squeezed the punk’s cock and fisted it up and down.

  He increased the speed of his jerking. His hand flew up and down the curved boner as he yanked his cock out, then rammed it back home. His cock burned, the torrid hole churning around it as he drove deep and then pulled back out.

  After every withdrawal, he’d aim at the tattooed maw with his flared knob and then punch home, harder and faster every time. His aim was to fuck the hell out of the hot punk, but all that humping and drilling was beginning to take its toll.

  Sweat dripped from every part of him. His cock was on fire. He increased his rapid fisting of Trick’s cock while yanking on one of his nipples. He punch-fucked that ass faster and harder.

  “Fuck…yeah…unnnhhhh…give it to me! Yeah! Fuck! I’m gonna shoot!”

  Success! Cory slammed balls-deep while squeezing the rearing boner in his hand. He felt it pulse in his grip as cum rocketed up the shaft. At the same time, the hole he drilled seized his cock in a spasm of slick heat.

  Cum spewed out of Trick’s dick to arc toward the dirty brick wall in front of them. The slim body jerked and flailed, the board under his feet rocking and jerking too.

  Cory kept on fucking, close himself—especially now as he felt that flailing body in his arms. He’d fucked a load out of the snotty punk, and now he had one more thing to do.

  “Get down on your knees so I can spray your face!”

  He wasn’t sure if Trick would do it. But the boarder did. Twisting in Cory’s arms, he turned and dropped down to kneel on his own board, cum still spurting from his cock, pants around his ankles.

  He grinned up at Cory, tongue lolling out of his mouth. “Shoot, big boy! Come on, gimme that load!”

  Cory stared down at the kneeling punk. The winged tattoo on his back slashed down toward the spread crack and the hole he’d just fucked. And what a fuck! Cory ripped off the condom, pumped his cock in Trick’s face and blew.

  Cum sprayed the delicate features, pointed chin, perky nose, bowed lips and lolling tongue. Cory groaned and panted as his fat cock unloaded. He nearly fell, weak in the knees and soaked in sweat.

  Trick’s hands gripped his knees and held him in place. The punk’s upturned face was coated in jizz but still grinning.

  “Hey, dudes, nice to see you.”

  What? Trick was talking to someone behind them. Cory grabbed the side of one of the bins and spun himself around to face a trio of boarders huddled in front of them and smirking as they checked out his dripping boner.

  Breathless and shaking all over, he was too stunned to pull up his shorts. He just stood there staring as his cock continued oozing creamy spunk.

  He felt the back of his shorts being grabbed from around his ankles. He realized Trick was wiping the cum off his face with Cory’s shorts.

  Cory stared back at Trick’s boarder buddies. He wondered how he’d do in a fight against Trick and the three of them. Two looked dangerous, with broad shoulders and plenty of piercings and tattoos.

  Trick though, was laughing again. “Let’s go, dudes. Me and my pal were just finishing up.”

  The trio nodded and pushed off, Trick right behind them. Cory stared at the departing group with disbelief. What had just happened? His bright blue eyes latched on to the sight of Trick’s disappearing ass. The perky cheeks pumped above the baggy shorts, the winged tattoo pointing downward toward the ass he’d just fucked good.

  Just then, Trick turned around, pirouetting expertly on his board.

  With a jaunty wave, he called back, “See you later!”

  Then he turned and raced off after his buddies.

  Cory finally managed to pull up his shorts. Now, where the hell was he? He had to laugh.

  And he did have something to look forward to. He’d run into the board punk again. He was sure of it.

  DEEP END

  Heidi Champa

  How many times had I stood by the side of my pool, staring into the murky water? No matter what I did to it, no matter how many chemicals I used, it still looked like shit. I had changed chlorine brands four times and checked the pH balance constantly, all to no avail. I finally broke down and called in a professional. Imagine my surprise when a kid showed up almost an hour late, looking like he had just rolled out of bed. When he pulled his gear out of the back of his white van, I noticed two skateboards falling to the driveway along with his hoses and buckets. Despite my misgivings, I kept quiet and let the guy do his stuff. As he approached, the first things I noticed were his bloodshot eyes and tired expression.

  “You must be Pete. I’m here about the pool.”

  “I gathered.”

  He looked at me as if he was confused, so I pointed at the truck behind him, emblazed with the company logo.

  “Right, I guess you figured that part out. I’m going to get started, take some samples and see where we’re at. Cool, man?”

  “Cool.”

  I sat on the patio, reading the paper, hoping that this kid could figure out what was keeping me from enjoying the one thing about my house I was truly looking forward to. It didn’t help matters that it had been in the nineties all week long. After about thirty minutes, he motioned me toward the pool. I walked over, only to see a grim expression on his face.

  “I’m sorry, dude, but it looks like you have black mold. We’re gonna have to drain it to get it clean.”

  I ran a hand over the back of my neck in agitation. The house from hell was throwing me yet another curveball. First it was the scuffed floors and the water damage in the bathroom. Now, the pool. I rued the day I ever gave up renting. So much for growing up and being responsible.

  “No worries, man. We’ll have you back in those swim trunks in no time.”

  He looked me up and down, leering at me in a most obvious way before he scribbled on his paperwork. I stared back, trying to be more subtle. He was young, no more than twenty-two. The scruffy hair he had hidden under his backward cap was coming loose. His baggy shorts didn’t match the company issued polo shirt he was wearing. The oval name patch said ZACK.

  His knees had both fresh and healing scrapes, and a bit of road rash stretched down the thick muscle of his calf. Black and gray worn-out shoes hung off his feet, the laces more for show than for substance. It was amazing to recall that I had ever dressed like that, oh, so many years ago, back when skating was the most important thing in my life. I wondered if I ever looked as good in my shorts as this kid did. He came over with the clipboard, his slow gait making his shoes flop against the cement. I snapped my attention back to the paperwork, trying to ignore the contraction of his thick forearm muscles as he gripped and released the edges of the white plastic.

  “Just sign here, dude, and we’ll get started.”

  I grabbed the pen from his hand and noticed chipped black polish on his fingernails. Peeking out from under the neck of his shirt was the edge of a black tattoo. His smile made him look even younger; his soul patch was clearly the only facial hair he could grow. He took the clipboard from me and put the pen in his pocket.

  “Cool. We’ll be back in about an hour with the truck so we can drain this puppy. Late.”

  His flippant good-bye made me laugh. Some things never changed. It was the same attitude that drove my father crazy, made him threaten to throw my board away multiple times. When I finally “grew up” and stopped skating, he was so thrilled. I told myself I didn’t miss it, but whenever I saw kids skate by, I felt a pang of jealousy right to my core. Sure, I would balk like all the neighbors about the noise and the annoyance, but secretly I envied those guys. But I had long ago traded in my Vans for Van Heusen, my wallet chain for a silk tie. As Zack drove off, he started blasting the
stereo, the noise shaking the glass top of my patio table.

  When the tanker truck returned, I watched from the window as the hoses sucked the green-tinged water out of the pool, the black mold dotting the walls clearer than ever. Once the water was gone, a team went in and started scrubbing the crap out of all the spots that covered the cement and tile. Zack waved, signaling me to come outside. When I walked up to him, I noticed his shirt was soaking wet and he smelled strongly of chemicals.

  “Well, dude, we’re almost done. We need to wait a few days before we can refill.”

  “Okay, great. Have a little accident?”

  “Yeah, no biggie. Comes with the territory with these guys.”

  “I see. Well, thanks for doing this. I appreciate it.”

  “Awesome, we’ll call you when we’re ready to come out. Take it easy, dude.”

  “Thanks, Zack. I will.”

  He walked back into the pool, where the rest of his crew was finishing their scrub job. They all looked just like him, grubby and young. I was ready to walk back into the house when Zack pulled his shirt over his head, throwing the bright blue polo into a bucket by the edge. His chest was bare and tan, and it turned out I was right about the tattoo. It stretched over his shoulder to his neck and down his arm, stopping just below his elbow. He didn’t bother putting on another shirt; he just walked to the bottom of my pool and continued working. For the first time in months, I felt my cock stir. For a kid, he was sexy as hell; exactly the type I would have gone for back in the day.

  I woke up with a start, my heart pounding out of my chest. I waited, my eyes wide in the dark, trying to figure out what had woken me up. Suddenly, I heard it. Loud sounds were coming from the backyard, sounds that my lethargic brain couldn’t make out. Walking to the window, I eased two blades of my blinds apart and looked into the darkness. I couldn’t see anything until a light flashed inside my pool, then disappeared, leaving me more confused than before.

  Grabbing my trusty bat from underneath the bed, I made my way downstairs to the back door. As I slid it open, the sounds grew louder and I knew exactly what it was. Just as my mind clicked in, Zack popped up over the edge of my pool, his skateboard hitting the lip with a thud and a grating noise. After him, three others cleared the edge in rapid succession, their wheels hitting the cement in that classic, clicking thud. Every few seconds, one of them would come into view, before disappearing into the empty bowl.

  It was all the guys from the cleaning crew, skating all over the surface of my pool, their wheels no doubt leaving black marks all over the freshly washed surface. I had skated my fair share of pools and knew the damage it could cause. Zack came to the fore, doing a nosegrind before vanishing again. I hadn’t meant to watch, but I couldn’t help admiring their tricks, my anger temporarily overridden by nostalgia. When I heard a loud smash of glass come from the bottom of my pool, I snapped out of my reverie.

  I backed away, going to the light switches on the wall next to the patio. Throwing on the spotlight that fell across the backyard, I heard frantic voices and the scrambling of sneakers up the steps of the pool. I walked into the light, my bat by my side. Three guys ran past me, their skateboards in their hands as they headed out the end of my driveway. In their wake, they scattered beer bottles and cigarette butts. The last out was Zack, his feet nearly slipping out from under him, his board rolling toward me as he tried to make his getaway. I stopped it with my foot, and Zack fell in front of me in a last ditch effort to grab it. He looked up at me from his knees, his eyes darting from my face to the bat. His gaze strayed, just for a moment, to my bare chest.

  “Sorry to interrupt you guys. Funny, Zack, I don’t remember scheduling an appointment for this morning.”

  “I’m so sorry. I didn’t think anyone was home. Your car is gone.”

  “It’s in the shop. So, is this what you do? You tell people they have mold and then come and do this while they’re not home? Did my pool even need to be drained?”

  “No. I mean, yes. And, no. Wait…”

  “Oh, by all means, take your time.”

  I enjoyed mocking him, his face a mixture of confusion and fear. It was a far cry from the cool kid I’d met the other day. But his distressed expression didn’t last. I watched him quickly muster the courage to talk his way out.

  “No, we don’t do this all the time. And, yes, your pool needed to be cleaned. Look, we were just goofing. One of the guys said how great it would be to skate, and after a few beers, it seemed like a really good idea. We came by and saw your car gone. It’s no big deal, dude.”

  “No big deal? It’s my fucking pool. Who the hell is going to pay to clean it up?”

  “I’ll take care of it, all of it.”

  “And, then there’s the little matter of the trespassing and the broken bottles.”

  “Look, dude. I said I’ll take care of it.”

  “Maybe I want the cops to take care of it. Or maybe your boss?”

  He recoiled, the brash attitude fading once again. He sat back on his heels, his eyes falling from mine for the first time since I’d caught him.

  “Come on, man, don’t call the cops. I told you I’ll take care of it. What more do you want?”

  Kicking his board away, I took two steps to him, lifting his chin with my finger. His puppy-dog eyes didn’t cover up the brat that he really was. A small part of me wanted to be nice and just let him run after his friends. But it was three in the morning and after looking at his thick, full lips, my mind got other ideas. I ran my thumb along the edge of his jaw; his skin was warm and flushed. He didn’t pull away like I expected him to. In fact, he smiled. Damn, he was cute, for a skate rat.

  “I want you to suck my cock.”

  “What did you say?”

  “You heard me. I want you to suck my cock. Come on, man. You’re already down on your knees. Or I can make a call, it’s your choice.”

  “Is that all you want?”

  “Why? What else are you offering?”

  To my surprise, his hands moved to my pajama bottoms, his thin fingers slipping under the elastic.

  “That depends.”

  “On what?”

  “On how big your cock is.”

  His fingers tightened and pushed my pants down, my cock springing free right in front of his face. I heard him draw in a breath between his teeth, then watched as the sweep of his fat tongue left his bottom lip wet. My fingers combed through his floppy hair, yanking his head back and holding it in place. I put my other hand around the base of my cock and dragged the head over that freshly moistened lip. His neck went limp and pliant in my grasp, leaving me free to rub and slap his face with my swollen dick. He groaned, the sweetest sounds coming from his formerly smug little mouth.

  “Fuck, dude. Let me taste you.”

  Just as the words left his lips, I jammed my cock into his still-open mouth. His yelp was stifled by my thrusts, my hands wrapped fully in his tangled locks. My hips rocked forward and back, his hands moving around me to knead the muscles of my ass. He pulled back to lave up and down my shaft in slow motion. I let him go on for a while, resisting the urge to plow back into his mouth with abandon.

  He closed his eyes, lightly touching the tip of his tongue to my weeping slit, sweeping away the precum that was flowing from me. I didn’t want any more teasing, so I shoved my cock into his mouth, enjoying the gagging sounds that came from the back of his throat. Holding my cock deep, I released him just as the slobber started to trickle from the corners of his lips. Zack gasped as I pulled all the way out, my hand still firmly locked in his hair. He looked up at me, his eyes wide and watery.

  “Dude, please fuck me.”

  “So, I guess my cock is big enough for you.”

  “Yeah, it is. I want it in my ass.”

  His mouth stayed open, his tongue resting right on the edge of his bottom teeth. Pushing back inside, I sighed as his lips wrapped around the head of my cock, his tongue flicking over my most sensitive ridge. In that moment, I wante
d nothing more than to come in his mouth. But my skater boy had other plans. Zack groaned as I pulled out slowly, whimpering in disappointment as I left him empty. Letting go of his hair, I waited as he stood up in front of me.

  The corners of his mouth went up right before he yanked off his shirt. I could see that he was hard, his baggy shorts unable to hide the evidence of his arousal. He put a hand to his oversized belt buckle, opening his pants without breaking our stare. Grabbing another delicious handful of his hair, I pulled him to me, our mouths finally meeting. His reddened lips were soft and warm, his tongue timid and slow. I pushed his pants and boxers down as we kissed, his cock suddenly warm and hard against my thigh. Feeling how excited he was, I knew I couldn’t wait much longer.

  I started to move him toward the patio, but he stopped and bent down for a moment. Reaching into the pile of clothing, he retrieved something from one of his many pockets. He pressed two lube packets and a condom into my hand, before he wrapped his lips around my right nipple. I reached out and killed the spotlight that lit up the whole backyard, throwing us into relative darkness. Moving Zack’s mouth back up to mine, I led him right where I wanted him. He put both hands onto the glass top table to steady himself.

  I ran my hands down his back, his hips already squirming back and forth invitingly. When I got to his tight cheeks, I pulled them apart gently, running a finger down his crack to his puckered hole. Before I could do anything else his hand had wrapped around his stiff cock, jerking it. Dropping to my knees, I couldn’t resist having a taste of his ass. Pointing my tongue, I swirled around the edge of his asshole, drawing deep moans from Zack. I didn’t care if anyone heard us, too focused on my own need to plunder his writhing ass. Pushing the tip of my tongue inside him, I was shocked when he slammed back hard, forcing me deeper inside him. Grabbing his cheeks tighter, I took back control and teased him until I heard his fist slam on the tabletop.