Huck Pilgrim
Jimmy Manley wandered through the dusty aisles of Murphy Mart, a small department store at the Metro Mall. He strolled the aisles of the store’s small electronics section, brushing his fingers over the boxes of video games. To a casual observer, he would appear consumed in making a selection, but this was a ruse. In fact, he was carefully scanning the store, looking for employees, trying to gauge his odds of getting away with a small theft. Jimmy liked to test himself in Murphy Mart: a small lackluster department store even in its better days, the staff here were mostly bored. He’d been caught stealing here a few times before, and the clerks had resorted to mild curses and an invitation to leave the store. One of those times, a heavy-set woman wearing a worn, harried look and a straining Murphy Mart polo shirt had caught him stuffing a hardcover book down the front of his pants. She’d smacked him in the head with the back of her hand.
“You,” she’d said. “Fuck off.” In her thick Russian accent, it had come out: Joo. Fack off.
He’d tossed the book back onto the shelf and then run from the store, only to find himself on the other side of the mall, his heart racing, unable to stop laughing. Fack off, indeed.
Jimmy couldn’t afford to get into any more trouble: the recruiter had told him to keep his nose clean, enjoy his birthday celebration and then graduate high school. Jimmy had just turned eighteen. In a few more weeks, he’d graduate high school. And then it was good-bye Carnal, hello Recruit Training Center Great Lakes—the U.S. Naval boot camp. He’d already signed the papers.
Jimmy’s father didn’t want him to join the military. Jimmy had laughed at his father’s initial assessment of the situation: You’ll get your head shot off, Don Manley had said in utter dismay. Jimmy thought his father was being overly dramatic, but he didn’t particularly mind. It was good to hear an opinion from the old man, even if he thought Jimmy was making a mistake. He’d enjoyed the rare treat of his father’s attention.
Jimmy deftly slipped a small electronic gadget into his pants—a USB stick in the shape of a shotgun: Jimmy thought it would make a nice Father’s Day gift. The cardboard backing dug into his thighs as he surveyed the store’s aisles.
Meandering toward the men’s clothing aisles, Jimmy found a tall mirror. Jimmy could see the outline of the package stuffed in his jeans. He skillfully adjusted himself until he was satisfied that his prize was no longer visible. He picked and fluffed at his dark curly hair. He knew all his hair would get cut off in boot camp. His head would be bald and shiny. Jimmy longed to begin his adventure in the military. He hoped to transform his slim, boyish frame into the muscled body of a real man. He squinted his big brown eyes and put on a tough grimace, but he couldn’t hold it for long, breaking out into a big toothy smile. Jimmy was not much of a tough, and he knew it. Jimmy secretly hoped against hope that the military would help him transform more than just his body and his hair. He stuffed his hands in the deep pockets of his pants and wandered into the aisle of paperback books and magazines.
He picked up a fantasy novel and surreptitiously looked at the shelf of pornographic girly magazines: on one was a soft-focus picture of a beautiful girl, her breasts and thighs covered by the wide modesty wrapper of plain white paper. Jimmy could feel his cock moving in his pants. Jimmy remembered that his friend Roger Bones was also at the Metro Mall, but he didn’t feel like hanging out with Roger. Each time he hung out with Roger at the Metro Mall, Jimmy ended up at some gay man’s apartment, sitting on that man’s couch or his bed, with his pants and underwear pooled at his ankles, a pornographic magazine in his hands, the man’s mouth on him. Jimmy’s cock slid to attention just thinking about it. There was good money in hustling gay men, even after Roger took his cut.
Jimmy put the novel back on the shelf. His penis pressed uncomfortably against the item in his pants, so Jimmy adjusted himself again, letting his fingers linger on his cock perhaps a little longer then he should have. He knew it was foolish, but Jimmy picked up the porno magazine and slipped its wrapper from the cover.
Jimmy hoped that his sojourn into the military would turn him into the kind of man who didn’t get a raging hard-on at the thought of having his cock swallowed by a man. With chagrin, Jimmy remembered that he hadn’t even been paid for the first blow job a man had given him. Unbeknownst to Jimmy, Roger had kept the money. Jimmy had incorrectly assumed the blow job itself was the reward, his payment for overcoming his fear. And in a way, that blow job was compensation of sorts: Jimmy discovered he loved to shoot his cream into the warmth of another man’s mouth. So much better than firing off into his warm bedsheets, or the cold water of the toilet bowl. Once Jimmy learned there was money exchanging hands, he insisted on collecting the lion’s share of the proceeds from Roger. Jimmy felt he had to. Otherwise, he would be in it just for the blow job. And that was only a very small step away from actually being gay.
Jimmy flipped through the pages of the magazine, skipping immediately to the model in the center. He luxuriated in the hard-on in his pants. He’d have to go to the mall restroom and relieve himself into one of the toilets. Jimmy tugged at the gift for his father hidden in his pants. If Jimmy’s father thought he’d fail in the military, Jimmy wondered what the old man would think of his adventures with Roger in the Metro Mall? The thought made Jimmy wince, even as his cock throbbed.
Looking up from his magazine, Jimmy spotted a man striding toward him with great purpose. He was a big guy, with a wide face and flat nose. He had strong arms, a big head and chest, and steel-gray hair clipped close to his head. Jimmy felt the hard-on in his pants wither. He put the magazine back, fumbling with the paper modesty wrapper a bit before deciding to just ignore the wrapper and head for the door.
The man was fast. He must have broken into a trot as soon as Jimmy turned, because no sooner did Jimmy take a single step, then he felt a big powerful hand clamp down on his shoulder. The big man swiftly positioned himself between Jimmy and the arch leading into the mall, and then he looked evenly at Jimmy, sizing him up. Jimmy grinned sheepishly. He had a square jaw and deep-blue eyes. He wore dark slacks and a button-down blue oxford shirt, cuffs rolled halfway up his thick, hairy, tattoo-covered forearms.
“You come with me,” he said. Again, a thick accent, Russian or Eastern European. “You vit me,” the man said. Stepping toward Jimmy, the man used his superior size to intimidate the boy. Jimmy noticed the name badge pinned to the man’s deep chest: BOGDON.
“I wasn’t doing anything, mister,” Jimmy said. “Honest.” The man looked at the pornographic magazine hastily stashed in the rack, but he didn’t say anything. Jimmy’s face flushed furiously. “I was just looking,” he stammered.
“S’okay,” the man said, his face softening. “It’s okay.” He was nodding his head and had relaxed his voice, but he put his big hand on Jimmy’s thin biceps. “Come,” the guard said. “Come. We talk.” He started to hustle Jimmy farther into the store. Jimmy went with the man, this Bogdon, feeling light-headed, butterflies raging in his belly. What would his father say? The recruiter? What about his plans to change himself? Bogdon walked Jimmy through a door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY, to a small room with an even smaller table, some chairs and a lot of video monitoring equipment.
“Put on table,” Bogdon said, after he had closed the door. He stood with both his hands clasped in front of him.
“I wasn’t doing anything, mister,” Jimmy said.
Bogdon smiled. He lowered his head. He waited.
“Really,” Jimmy whined. His mouth was dry. He hated how weak and pathetic his voice sounded, even to him. He sighed. Hung his head. Sighed again.
Reaching into his pants, Jimmy pulled out the gift he had stolen for his father. Tossed it onto the table.
“More?” Bogdon said softly.
“No more,” Jimmy whispered. He heard his own voice crack a little and he hoped he wouldn’t cry.
“This what happens now,” Bogdon said. “You lean over table. You keep both hands behind back. I must look.”
Jimmy looked at the table. “You understand?” Bogdon said.
Jimmy nodded. “You’re going to search me,” he said.
Bogdon smiled. He was an older guy, probably about fifty. Jimmy wondered how many times Bogdon had had to search the people who shoplifted from Murphy Mart. Jimmy leaned over the table, pressing his cheek against the smooth wood finish. He put his hands behind his back, letting the table take all of his weight. It was an awkward, humiliating position to assume, and he closed his eyes.
Jimmy felt Bogdon’s big hand on his wrists.
“I must do this,” Bogdon said.
Jimmy felt the cold metal of handcuffs and immediately tried to stand. Bogdon put his other hand on Jimmy’s back, forcing the wind out of him.
“Don’t,” Jimmy said. “Please.”
Bogdon pressed his hip into Jimmy’s backside and held his wrists fast. He kept his hand in the middle of Jimmy’s back until Jimmy let his body go limp. “I must,” Bogdon said. Taking his hand off Jimmy’s back, Bogdon kept his hip pressed up against the boy. Jimmy heard the first metallic lock click into place and then the next. With Jimmy’s hands secured, Bogdon turned his own body, so that his groin was pressed against the boy’s bottom.
“Hold on,” Bogdon said. “I fix handcuffs so your wrists don’t get no hurt.” Jimmy could feel Bogdon fiddling with the handcuffs. Bogdon had himself pressed tightly up against Jimmy. It wasn’t physically uncomfortable, but Jimmy was aware that Bogdon was unabashedly pressing his groin into Jimmy’s hip. Was he afraid Jimmy would race from the little room with his hands shackled behind his back? Jimmy snorted softly at the thought.
“You okay?” Bogdon asked. “Wrist good?”
“Good,” Jimmy croaked. “Good.” He wanted to get it over with.
“Okay,” Bogdon muttered. “Now I check you out.”
With that, Bogdon placed both his hands on Jimmy’s right arm: one hand on Jimmy’s shoulder, the other under his armpit. Bogdon slowly and methodically moved his hands down Jimmy’s arm to his elbow, then finally to his wrist. Bogdon sighed. He moved to Jimmy’s left arm, and did the same thing, keeping his groin pressed into Jimmy’s bottom. Jimmy had never been searched before, but he was sure this search was inappropriate. He was only wearing a T-shirt, for heaven’s sake. He wanted to say something, but he wasn’t quite sure how to put it into words, so instead he just sighed loudly.
Bogdon shushed him. “Easy, my little dove,” he whispered. “Easy.” Muttering softly to himself, Bogdon put his hands on Jimmy’s torso, slowly working them down to the boy’s hips. At one point, Bogdon repositioned himself so that his groin was over the boy’s manacled hands, and then Bogdon leaned forward and reached under Jimmy’s chest. Jimmy was aware where his hands were in relation to Bogdon’s penis, and even though Jimmy couldn’t feel anything, he was uncomfortable. Both his nipples were “accidently” tweaked, between Bogdon’s thumb and hand, as he ran his palms adroitly over Jimmy’s slim torso.
Jimmy gasped. He could feel his cock start to respond. Most of his apprehension at being detained suddenly evaporated. He wondered if Bogdon were gay. If Bogdon were gay, Jimmy thought he might be able to turn the tables. Maybe even take advantage of the situation. Come out a little ahead.
Bogdon put one of his hand on the inside of Jimmy’s left thigh, the other on the outside Jimmy’s leg. Bogdon pressed the inside hand up against Jimmy’s crotch, jostling the boy’s balls. Jimmy inhaled deeply. He would gladly let Bogdon suck his dick in exchange for his freedom. Jimmy felt that the best way to communicate this to Bogdon might be without words, by using his body instead. Fortunately, Jimmy could feel his cock already beginning to throb. He tried to coax an even better erection from himself: his thoughts moved to the model he’d been looking at in the magazine, to some of the girls he knew in high school, and even to the lusty drawings of warrior women in a graphic novel he enjoyed. Bogdon’s hands had reached Jimmy’s ankle, but Jimmy had still only managed a small rise in his pants. His anxiety began to mount. Bogdon switched to Jimmy’s other ankle and slowly began working his way up the leg. This was a clutch moment that called for desperate measures. Jimmy let his mind wander to the last time he let a man suck his cock. The guy had gotten Jimmy good and hard, and then he’d stopped, sucked his finger to get it wet, and slipped it into Jimmy’s sweaty ass. Jimmy hadn’t expected that. Pressing his heels into the bed, he’d raised his ass high from the bed, and almost immediately ejaculated into the man’s mouth. It had been one of the most erotic experiences of his young life. Jimmy didn’t like to think about it, but now that he had, his cock was a heavy log in his pants. Bogdon let his hand rub against Jimmy’s nuts.
When he felt the man’s touch, Jimmy exhaled loudly.
The old man chuckled. And then Jimmy felt Bogdon’s hand cup his entire cock. Bogdon made a lusty sigh and gently squeezed Jimmy’s manhood. Jimmy mewled.
“You like,” Bogdon said.
Bogdon placed his big hands on Jimmy’s shoulders and effortlessly raised him to his feet. He helped Jimmy into a nearby chair, his hands still locked behind his back. Jimmy wasn’t really sure what to say or do next, so he decided to play the coquette: he pushed his rump to the edge of the seat and leaned back in his chair, his hands gripping the back edge of the seat. He let his eyelids half cover his eyes. He didn’t want to overplay it, but he rocked his hips slightly and enjoyed the sensation of his hard cock rubbing against his underwear.
“You want me let you go?” Bogdon whispered. A half smile played on his lips. Jimmy’s heart soared in his chest. He swallowed hard, pursing his lips. Smiling slyly, Jimmy nodded. “Please,” he asked sweetly. Bogdon was grinning and had his hands on his hips.
“You do me the pleasure?” Bogdon asked. “You do me the pleasure, I let you go free.”
Jimmy grinned. He’d never heard anyone call it that before, but he opened his knees wide. He invited the old man in. Jimmy found that when he gave himself over to the idea of receiving head from a man, his anxiety about his own sexuality disappeared. His lust seemed capable of transporting him to a special place where all that mattered was the relief of the hard cock in his pants. He bit his lip and rocked his hips. He may have even moaned.
Bogdon grinned. And then he quickly unbuckled his belt, opened his pants and lowered his fly.
Jimmy sat bolt upright in the chair. His eyes were open wide now, the coquettish smile gone from his lips.
Bogdon pulled his cock from his pants and stroked it. He had an uncut penis and it was only half hard. As he stroked it, the head disappeared into his shaft, only to reappear a few seconds later, glistening and round. His cock wasn’t massive, but it was well proportioned and thick, and he had a nice, dark coloring. Bogdon proudly stroked it.
“Wait, wait,” Jimmy said breathlessly. “There’s been a mistake.” He was grappling with what he had expected to happen, and what was actually happening instead. “You don’t understand,” Jimmy said. He laughed nervously. “I’m not gay,” Jimmy said, his voice sounding high and squeaky in his ears. Bogdon laughed.
“Mister, mister,” Jimmy said anxiously. He was being misunderstood and he could feel the situation spinning out of control. He was feeling frantic, beside himself. Bogdon chuckled and took a step closer to the chair, his cock pointing at Jimmy’s face like a weapon.
“Bogdon,” Jimmy said sharply. Bogdon stopped stroking himself. “I can’t,” Jimmy said. “I’m not gay. I’m mean, I’m no queer.”
Bogdon tilted his head. He looked at Jimmy as if this were the first time he had seen him. Bogdon put his meaty hand on Jimmy’s shoulder. Leaning down, Bogdon reached between Jimmy’s legs and found his cock. The boy had lost some of his erection, but he was still somewhat aroused. Bogdon grinned. He rubbed the boy’s penis, which thickened at his touch.
“You can, my dove,” he said. “You can. Is no big deal. Is like sucking thumb. Only, instead of thumb,” Bogdon chuckled, “you suck cock.” Jimmy groaned and turned his head.
“No,” J
immy whispered. A silence followed. Bogdon stood, gently squeezing Jimmy’s shoulder. Jimmy kept his head turned to the wall. Bogdon toyed with a curl in the boy’s hair.
“I’m not gay,” Jimmy squeaked.
“You don’t have to be gay,” Bogdon whispered sympathetically. Jimmy felt his cock lurch involuntarily. He squeezed his thighs together. Bogdon watched the boy squirm in his seat.
“No one will know,” Bogdon said softly. Jimmy inhaled deeply. Looked at his feet. Stealing a glance at Bogdon, he pushed the air from his lungs slowly. Bogdon toyed idly with his cock. He kept his eyes on the boy.
Jimmy looked up at Bogdon. Looked him right in his blue eyes. “Please,” Jimmy begged, his tone desperate. “Please.” Bogdon smiled. His cock seemed to thicken at the boy’s plea.
“Is nothing can be done,” Bogdon said firmly. “You must decide.”
Jimmy sighed. Ran his tongue around his lips. Opened his mouth just a bit. He closed his mouth to swallow, and then he opened it again. He turned his head to face Bogdon’s cock. Opening his mouth wider, Jimmy tilted his head and closed his eyes. He could feel his own erection throbbing in his pants. Jimmy paused briefly, his mouth an inch from Bogdon’s cock. He could feel the warmth from the man’s cock on his lips.
And then Jimmy simply moved his head forward, and for the first time in his entire life, he had a cock in his mouth. He gave himself a moment to get used to it. Bogdon’s cock was warm, and it filled Jimmy’s mouth completely: It was on his tongue and up against the roof of his mouth and nuzzled against his molars. Jimmy found he had to breathe through his nose. He smelled the musky, not unpleasant odor of a man. Jimmy tasted nothing at first, but then his mouth began to salivate, and he noticed Bogdon had a mild salty taste.
Bogdon sighed appreciatively.
Jimmy opened his eyes and saw the tiny, tight gray curls of Bogdon’s pubic patch. Bogdon was busily opening the buttons of his shirt, tugging his white cotton undershirt high, exposing his hairy belly. For an old man, he was in great shape. He ran his hands over his flat stomach and his cock seemed to grow even thicker in Jimmy’s mouth.
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