It was 10am in the morning and that meant rent was due for my motel room. The place where I lived was in the seedy part of town next to railroad tracks, shuttered business' and vacant lots. My neighbors were an eclectic mix of hookers, coke whores and less glamorous degenerates.
I went into the office and lazy-eyed Eddie was working behind the front desk, he buzzed me through the security door and I went to the apartment door behind the counter. I knocked twice and Lonnie answered; I followed him to the couch.
He sat next to me; our thighs touching, "Hey little sweetie, how are you today?" he asked softly as he took my hand and placed it on the bulge in his slacks.
I could feel the heat coming from his hard-on. My breath caught in my throat. My own penis twitched with excitement. My fingers curled around his hard penis and squeezed. His cock felt warm and firm through his slacks. He smiled at me.
He put his arm around my shoulders, "Why don't you open my pants and take it out," he said; it was more of a command than question.
I was breathing harder as I fumbled with his belt. My hands trembled as I unfastened his pants and pulled down the zipper. My own cock was now erect. I fumbled with his belt then unfastened his slacks. I hooked my fingers into the waistbands of his slacks and underwear and pulled them downward. He lifted his hips to help me. I pulled his slacks down to his knees. His hard cock sprang into view. It was uncircumcised, six inches long and slim; my small hand easily fit around it. My other hand cupped and rubbed his balls.
"Ohhh, that feels good..." he groaned.
I began to slowly stroke his cock. I am uncircumcised as well, so I know how to slide the foreskin and squeeze it against his smooth cockhead. I watched myself masturbate Lonnie's cock one more time. It was fascinating. I stroked him slowly at first—just the way he liked it. When I saw small droplets of pre-cum ooze from his slit, I used my thumb to smooth it on his glans.
I moved my hand faster-and-faster. His hips began to thrust upward matching the rhythm of my stroking hand. His head rested against the couch, moving side-to-side. He was moaning and groaning and making small, animal-like noises. Listening to his pleasure excited me. I wanted to make him cum.
My hand became a blur on his cock. The idea of masturbating a man to orgasm thrilled me; pre-cum leaked from my cock-slit and stained my briefs. His cock felt wonderful in my hand; it seemed to shoot jolts of electricity up my arm and throughout my whole body. My own cock ached for release.
I worked furiously on his cock. Suddenly, I felt his balls contract in my hand and I quickly lowered my face and took his cockhead into my mouth. My tongue flattened against his cockhead and streams of foamy cum shot out from his slit. I lapped it up with my tongue and swallowed every drop. I was always amazed at the amount of semen he had in his balls. I continued stroking and sucking until he stopped me with his hand. I licked his cock clean while he gasped for air.
When he regained his composure he looked at me, smiled, and said, "Well, you paid your rent for another few hours—see you at 4."
I know what you're thinking: that I'm no better than the hookers and degenerates that live here, and you may be right, but a boy's got to do what he can to survive in this cold, cruel world, doesn't he?
It wasn't my fault the factory where I worked shut down and I lost everything. It isn't my fault we have the highest unemployment rate since The Great Depression and there aren't any jobs to be had. It isn't my fault that when Lonnie taught me how to sexually satisfy a man that I liked it, is it?
Marleen and Andrea, my neighbors, were out front when I returned to my room.
"Good morning, ladies, what are you doing up so early today?" I cheerfully greeted them. They were good people; I liked them.
"Well, hey little cutie," Marleen smiled and checked her watch, "...only ten-twenty and Lonnie's 'break time' is over already—you must be getting g-o-o-o-d!" we laughed; they were great gals but both were in need of serious dental work. "Ya know, Jamaal still wants you to work for him...at least you'd be paid with cash money!"
At that moment Jamaal drove up in his new lavender Escalade and the girls climbed into the backseat. Jamaal lowered his window and whistled at me: "Hey pretty boy, when are you going to get smart and let me hook you up with some classy gentlemen?"
I smiled and said, "Jamaal, I'm way too old for your chicken-hawk clientele—you'd starve to death if I worked for you." He laughed and drove away.
I had to wait until eleven for lunch so I turned on the tv and stared at the snowy screen. I lowered my jeans and underpants and masturbated. Lonnie never touched my cock when I was with him so I took care of it myself afterwards.
When I was finished, I started thinking about the old days when I had a great job, money and a nice car and freedom to do whatever I wanted. I had many fond memories and every now and then I'd relive those days in my mind. It had only been a couple months but it seemed like years ago.
At eleven I went to the diner down the street. Mister J, the owner, was behind the register counting the breakfast receipts. He was from Pakistan, and everyone called him Mister J because no one could pronounce his last name. I struck a deal with him to clean the diner after they closed in exchange for lunch and dinner.
"Hi Mister J—business good today?" I asked.
He looked up and smiled, "Ah, my little bur—to answer your question—no, business is terrible!"
I laughed—he said the same thing every day. I never asked him what 'bur' meant. I sat at the counter and Renee brought me coffee and water.
"Hi sweetie," she smiled, as she handed me the newspaper, "...what's up today?"
"Hi, Renee...oh, the usual...working hard on my stock portfolio (she smiled)...guess I'll have a burger and fries."
I picked up the paper and read the 'want-ads' first. Each day there seemed to be fewer and fewer jobs listed, and I wasn't qualified for any of them. I always wondered how out-of-work men with families to support were getting-by. I felt sorry for those families. I imagined my life was paradise compared to theirs.
I picked-up the news section and read about the usual wars in the usual places; the usual rioting of people who had been screwed-over by their governments; and of course, how our drones killed more members of Al-Qaeda. I always wondered how they knew the people they killed were Al-Qaeda. The paper never said 'how we knew' that they were members just that they were. I wondered if they carried Al-Qaeda membership cards like the NRA or AAA? How else would we know?
My food arrived and I moved to the business section. That took all of three minutes then I moved to the Sports section and ate my food. When I was done I left my customary one dollar tip. When I first ate there I left Renee two dollars, but she knew I was down on my luck and pushed it back at me. We haggled on the price and she agreed to accept one dollar. It was only right—she was trying to make a living, too.
She brought me a paper bag with Harry's lunch in it. Harry owned the drugstore two blocks down the street. I would bring him his lunch and in exchange he allowed me to stand at his magazine rack and read the magazines. Sometimes I stood there reading for hours.
"Hi Harry," I said as I handed him his food. "How's Loretta's back today?" Loretta was his wife who suffered with back problems.
"Hey sport," he answered, and took the bag of food, "She's still bitching about it; doctor gave her some pain pills and she feels pretty good for awhile, but...you know..."
I stood at the magazine rack until two o'clock. I love reading—it's a pleasant escape. I found interesting articles in four-five magazines then I noticed the new 'Playboy' was out, and I saw one of my favorite authors had a story in the new issue. I read the story, and yes, I looked at the girls, too.
