Trust Me

Trust Me

by mandezulu

Contents: Gay male, non-consensual/reluctant, homophobic language

"Hey faggot! How much for a blowjob?" The owner of the taunt was driving a bright red corvette. Probably an undercover cop as he displayed the wad of cash in his right hand, left hand still on the steering wheel. He was in the right place for cruising though, downtown on the west side of the ocean city Pacific Heights, 40 miles south of nicer Portland, Washington.

There was a vibrant gay community according to the city website trying to attract new homeowners and people in transition of their lives to P City as it was known. Either for it's party atmosphere or for penis, whichever P word floated your boat. There were indeed a lot of gay prostitutes in P City, the west side near the old shipping docks was well known to everyone, gay or straight. There was an unspoken agreement that if the fags kept the violence down the cops wouldn't bust them. For the most part the working boys kept up their end of the bargain. I was here tonight, sitting in my black 1980 Ford Bronco, watching business being conducted while making notes in my legal pad on my lap. Who was new to the block, who was the loudest, new pimps or johns, was there fighting... these were the questions I sought answers to. I was a social worker for the state, ostensibly out here late at night to find the runaways and help them find family, a place to stay, or at least a warm bed for the night. After dark the weirdos came out and the young men who worked in groups went home leaving the junkies out by the corner scratching their arms and whistling to their pimps, communicating business. Hand signals to pull around the corner, how much for a suck or fuck, the terms were simple and the prices dirt cheap. A new twink was expected to be turned out for a few nights to get a handle on the ropes before a price was assigned to his ass by a pimp.

"Go home old man. Isn't it past your bed time?" The young redhead twink shouted back, and turned to moon the corvette driver quickly, pulling down his short ripped blue jeans. The twink had a nice pale ass, clean and no obvious welts. No underwear but then again he was a hoe, you couldn't expect too much.

I adjusted my binoculars and zoomed in on him as he walked back to his friends under the neon Hotel sign. They all looked barely 18 years old, young meat on the street. I myself frequented gay bars, cruising spots and local bath houses getting action where I could. Being a social worker I knew all the places the gays got strange. From the park bathroom glory holes to the upscale hotels were Mr. Smith was in the penthouse expecting a "friend" to drop by around 11 pm. The hotel twink would be dressed professional, suit but no tie, and his face clean shaved, asshole cleaned with a water enema ready for a serious pounding by a mover and shaker of the city. One of those pillars of the community you were always hearing about, I knew each one on the down low and what got them off.

Twinks dressed like school boys, trannies, bondage, all kinds of perverted shit. I tugged on my dick in the truck, anxious to get home where I could get it on with my boyfriend, Raoul. He was a young faggot fresh of the boat, hopping from one city to the next but I got his busted for having no green card so until tomorrow at 11 am he was under my supervision. I forced him to suck me off, cramming his head down to my balls and as he licked them like a hungry puppy I shot my load down his throat, him gagging and cursing me in a foreign language. Then I tossed him aside, answered some emails on my Mac Book and bent him over my desk, taking his asshole for dessert. No one would miss the hoes, no one was even looking for them. His asshole was pretty dirty so I used a raincoat, moaning in Mandarin, he was a good lay, if a bit combative. Raoul I could handle, even if I had to slap him around some. Pieces of meat like him were disposable like a dirty tissue.

There was a boy suddenly at my right window, leaning in towards me.

"Hey there. Looking for a date? I haven't seen you around." He was the redhead from earlier and up close he looked very new to the game, pale clean skin minus some acne on his neck and several piercings.

"Yeah, I am. I'm looking for a hand." The boy looked puzzled as he looked back and flashed an OK sign to show business was being done. My dick was out of my fly and it was getting very hard.

"Just a hand? I can suck you for 20, or you can get my ass for 40." It was said so casually my dick went a bit limp but I was tugging on it again and the fag opened my door and came inside. He was chewing some gum and blew a bubble.

"Go around back of the gas station. I've give you a handie, old man." As I put the truck in gear I slammed his head into the dash and pushed him to the floorboard.

"Old man? Fuck you, fag shit. I'm gonna hurt you really bad, tonight!" My dick was hard again and I grasped my shaved testicles as I turned the wheel and did a U-turn back towards the city lights, away from the seedy wharf. As I sped down the highway I imagined him pushed against my tailgate, holding on to the truck as I brutally took his asshole. I had a thing for little dicks, shaved and I bet this ginger had a small one. A bit of choking to get him breathing again and awake would do the trick, it worked well for me in the past. I had fucked many small gay prostitutes this way, a quick joyride and then the business and I kicked them out of my truck by the bright lights of the Emergency Room.

There was moaning from the passenger seat and I pulled off into an empty parking lot by a Starbucks coffee. The dash clock said 2 am, which was an ideal time. I got out and went to the passenger side, opening the door and dragging out the redheaded fag. I pushed my pants to my knees and my 6 inches was rock hard, ready to take this faggot for a wild ride. He tried to stand and I cheap punched him in the ribs, he fell against my truck and then the blacktop. Sputtering gibberish, he threatened me and said his pimp would get me really good, make me his bitch for this. I bent down and made crying noises and hit him with all I had. I swore I heard a rib crack.

"Okay fag, I have some questions for you before you get raped. Answer me honestly and you might live. Lie to me and I'll bash you on the head and toss you into the water where you'll drown. Sound good?" Only a moan and some cuss words came from the crumpled heap and I wanted to just do him right here, get it over with but the rape would be part of the carrot and stick process.

"Get to the back of the truck, it's time for some action. You let me know when you're ready to sing, little birdie." I couldn't wait, the opportunity was too good to pass up, his ass needed to be mine, now. The fag wasn't all that heavy, maybe a buck 40, that red hair was getting me all hot and bothered and needed to cum soon. His mouth or his ass? Always the ass.

He was crawling away from me, towards the street lights and I grabbed a handful of red hair and pulled him to the back of my truck, he grabbed on the lowered tailgate just like I had imagined. I took a minute to kick off my pants, my cock ready for action, hard with pre-cum almost dripping from the mushroom tip. God, it had been too long since I had some young ass, good young ass not some old homeless panhandler from the steps of the Capitol.

I had yet to talk to a homeless man who hadn't had his shit pushed in, either willingly for a warm bed to sleep in. Or when he got robbed at knife point, a blade to his throat and a cock in his ass. Sexual assault was the norm when it came to the vulnerable population. The thought egged me on mentally. Sure the redhead wasn't a virgin but I had those before and they were hit or miss. Sometimes scared, tight, and fighting like hell or scared stiff like a deer in the headlights, afraid to move or make a sound and just took me inside his body, no emotion or elicitation. How could you not try to fight, claw at the attacker or make a noise? I never could understand those types. I would be extra rough with those ones until I got a response. It might take a knife to get a word out of them. Or I could strangle them and right before they pass out I release my grip, rinse and repeat until they were begging for it to end. All of them eventually said something, whether in complete submission and resigned to their fate or a spark re-ignited in them, the idea that somehow, some crazy situation might occur that they would overtake me and get away. That never happened.

Ginger fag was coughing as he clung to the tailgate like he was holding on to the edge of a cliff, both arms extended. He was a short kind of hoe, probably 5 foot at most. I positioned myself behind him and pulled him up, my hands under his armpits and he rested, most of his torso laying down on the cold metal. I grabbed a handful of his shorts and tore the flimsy material off his hips, kicked his legs apart and pushed myself inside. I was HIV positive at this point in my life and didn't care who I gave it to. The twink screamed as I kept pushing, my length nearly fully inserted into his 18 year old asshole. God, it was tight. He kept screaming and I slugged him with my right hand in the ribs, my left under his stomach, cradling him. As I got fully inserted, he gasped as if coming up for air after a deep swim. I felt around and found his dick, just as small as I imagined and shaved clean. I cruelly squeezed his ballsack, he jumped a bit, my dick anchoring him to the tailgate. As I pulled out with just the head inside then slammed back deep, balls deep, he screamed again. I was so close to cumming it wasn't funny because I had so much more planned for this worthless prostitute.

"Yes, sing for me little birdie, sing. No one can hear you. This is the gay part of town, dontcha know? No one gives a fuck about you faggots. Sing, faggot, sing!"

I ruthlessly pounded his exit, his money maker, and grunted, shooting my sticky wad up his butthole. Goddamn, but I needed that nut badly. I kept my cock inside him, he was sweating and breathing hard, torso pinned to the tailgate, moaning in pain. I slid out, then in, out and in for a minute or two before releasing him from my grasp and he tumbled down to the darkness of the black top. I knew there was blood on my dick, probably a lot on his ass and down his legs but I didn't care; it was the cost of doing my business. I had to keep an eye on the needy and deserving communities.

"Not bad, faggot. Not bad. Now stand up, pull your pants up. We have some things to talk about. You probably don't know this but I'm a social worker for the state. My job is to interview the desperate populations and see how we, the state, can help your pathetic lives. Give you hope for some bullshit that will never come to life, and along the way, I take my cut. Tonight it was your ass. Tomorrow it will probably be your ass again. I'm sure it will hurt even more then, which gets me off." The speech was thorough and I doubt he heard much, crumbled up pile of human refuse that he was, but I felt the need to orate. I took a breath and spat, it landed inches from his nose pressed against the black top.

My dick was completely limp now and I slapped it, looking for my pants absently. They were somewhere in the dark lot. "Oh and congratulations, you more than likely have HIV. Not all of the hot street twinks are as clean as your ass. You can thank me later. Now get in the truck. All that screaming there is a possibility someone called the donut squad. We need to make tracks."