"Ok," With his palm, Keith hit the steering wheel. "Be careful, and--"
"Don't tell Stanley," I finished his sentence, showing irritation.
I put my backpack strap over my shoulder and slid off the leather seat, my feet reaching the asphalt. I closed the door. Keith drove away, and I waved.
Down my right pant leg, my still hard cock plunged. When I adjusted it, the attention only made it harder and less compliant. From my swim bag, I pull out a damp towel. It reeked of chlorine and mildew, my face scrunched in disgust.
Around my waist, I wrapped the smelly cloth, pants visible below its edge covering my calves and ankles. I considered removing them, but I'd still be some kid in a towel wandering the street at night. It wouldn't look normal under any circumstances, so left them on.
Headlights blasted my eyes. I raised my hand to shield them, squinting.
A station wagon pulled to the curb next to me. I deviated to the far edge of the sidewalk, against the chain-linked fence, my fingers curled, clinging to it. The linked chains chiming against the metal posts.
The front passenger side of the window descended, a low voice said, "How much?"
I glanced toward the vehicle, my eyebrows furrowed, my steps quickened. Then the driver hauled forward and did a U-turn, then sped up ahead, then another U-Turn. My heart rate jumped, eyes darting between the approaching vehicle and the sidewalk.
He pulled up next to me again. "Twenty-five," the low voice said from the car.
Eyebrow raised, I approached, "What?" I asked.
"Oral."
It clicked. This guy was soliciting me for sex. I recoiled, stepping backward.
With thirty dollars, though, I could buy a speedo, no more baggy swim trunks at practice. Then the sexy circle would welcome me. Plus, I'm was so fucking horny, too. I wondered if he intends to give or receive.
"Thirty," I said.
The silhouetted driver nodded. "Get in," he said.
I gripped the handle and pulled. Then the door opened, and I swung my hips into the car, taking off my backpack and pushing it into the backseat. The inertia as we moved closed the door, my foot barely clearing the swing. Streetlights whipped across his face, then down to his dress pants. With dark short hair and thick black-rimmed glasses, a light blue collared buttoned up over his chest and belly, he looked middle age. Acne scars covered his cheeks, along with patches of scruff across his jaw. Down his neck and beneath a white undershirt, body hair rambled with increasing abundance.
Am I about to be murdered? What am I supposed to say? Is he supposed to say something? When will I get the money?
My head reeled.
A minute later, he pulled into a disintegrating asphalt parking lot, a boarded-up single-story shop between us and the crumbling main street. On the dash in front of me, the man presented a spread of two fives and a twenty. He unhooked and unzipped his pants, then he flattened his hand against his lower stomach, sliding it under his white underwear. I braced, holding tight to the armrest. He whipped it through the open fly, uncut, approximately six inches, good thickness. I exhaled, unexpectedly relieved.
He reclined, maintaining the angle of his shaft perpendicular to the ceiling
I got up on my knees from the passenger seat and leaned over the console.
When I grabbed his dick, he released his grip, pulling both hands behind his head. I looked up at his face, he down at mine. Tongue over lips, I pressed my mouth closed and gulped. I stared down at his shaft, but keeping one eye on him. I opened up, then descended, my lips closing around the first three inches, then descended deep into his crotch. The man lifted his chin upward and moaned. Cock wet, I used my right hand to stroke the base, my mouth and tongue movement focused on the head.
He trembled and grunted in spurts. I reached into his open fly, played with his balls, jerked him for a minute, and pounded his cock hard with my lips. He said nothing and without warning, he pressed down hard on my head. My nose smashed painfully against his thigh and zipper. Jets of semen pumped into my mouth. He writhed and groaned, trying to penetrate deeper. Mouth full of cum, my face wrinkled in disgust. I lifted my head, thinking of my options. Warm, salty, burned coffee-flavored snot, is how it tasted. I reached for the door, eager to spit it out.
"Five more to swallow," the man said.
I whipped my face to his, scowling. Fingers and thumbs spread I raised both my hands, showing him my palms.
"Ok." he said. I swallowed, stifling the reflex to gag. Then I coughed hard, my eyes watering.
He opened his wallet and tossed a ten on top of the other bills. I snatched them and counted. Forty bucks. I undid my towel and lifted my hips to push the cash into my pocket.
"Goddamn, son."
I looked at him; I followed his gaze. He stared at the bulge down my right leg.
"Could I--can I touch it?" the guy asked.
I peered back at him staring at my pants.
"Listen, man, I'm really--"
"Twenty," he said, licking his lips.
I frowned, knowing I really needed the money.
"Twenty to see it, forty to touch."
"Forty and you let me suck it," the fellow said.
I said, "fine, show me the cash."
Then he pulled two tens and a twenty out, held it in front of my face, and smacked it down on the dashboard.
Hips lifted, I undid my belt, button, zipper, and pull them and my undies down past my knees. My dick vaulted up.
"Shit, what a beast," he said.
From the base, I teetered it between my legs and torso.
"Mmmm," he reached over, clutching it around the top of my shaft, stroking up and down slowly.
