Street Hustler
by Franklin Brooks


FOREWORD 

Every society is marked by an adolescent stage. A growing-up period. A time 
when each young boy feels he is more daring and modern than the adults 
ruling the establishment the young person rebels against. Nowhere is this 
phenomenon more apparent than in an open society like ours. 

Sandy's story is that of a young boy growing up in his own special way. 
Breaking the moral code he has been taught. Flaunting his body in open 
rebellion. Reveling in any wanton new experience. Indeed, Sandy makes a 
world of his own, where hedonism becomes the standard. But the truth is 
Sandy is searching for meaning in his life, for love and affection, not just 
the pleasures of the flesh. 

STREET HUSTLER-the story of a young boy's struggle to find himself, and the 
experiences that carry him over the threshold into young adulthood and 
eventual happiness. A timely story for our restless society. 

-The Publisher 


CHAPTER ONE 

The sounds that jarred Sandy out of his dreams and thrust him into the noisy 
bustle of downtown San Francisco were the simultaneous slamming of a door 
down the hallway and the bellowing of a truck horn in the street three 
stories below. Grumbling, squinting, he shielded his eyes against the 
surprise attacks of late-afternoon sunshine that bolted under the 
wind-flapped shade and invaded the dusk of his hotel room. The wind was hot 
again today. He felt trickles of sweat crawl on his skin. But Sandy didn't 
mind the heat at all. He liked it. It suited his blood. 

The bedsprings creaked as he stretched. He pointed his toes, contracted his 
thighs and his 

asscheeks. He rippled his fingers down over his abdominal ridges-hard, 
defined, perfectly lean. He could almost understand how queers could get off 
on his body. He was a perfect specimen-all man, even if he was still a 
teenager, a runaway kid. 

The shade flapped up and a warm tongue of wind and sunshine lapped up across 
his swollen balls. He could feel his big balls shift in their 
tight-stretched sac. His cock felt as big and as hard as a baseball bat. He 
squeezed his cock, watching his purple prickhead swell to the size of a 
delicious apple, watching the piss-slit open up like a screaming little 
mouth. He imagined fire shooting out of his slit-mouth. He imagined his cock 
as a dragon. He stroked his cock up and down a few times, sighing with the 
tingles that streamed through its core and shot all the way down to his 
toes. He was tempted to beat off. Jacking off upon waking up had been a 
daily ritual with him since he'd been about nine years old, and he realized 
now that the hardest part of hustling was going to be saving his cum for the 
queers. Damn, he wanted to jack off, wanted to squirt quarts of cum all over 
his tanned belly. 

Groaning, he unpeeled his fingers from around his cock and rubbed his hands 
up and down the sides of his balls. He brought his hands up to his nose and 
sniffed. The smell was like that of a jockstrap that hadn't been washed in 
weeks. He sniffed his armpits, disgusted by the smell but finding it 
perversely appealing. He needed a shower. Hadn't had one since he'd left 
Santa Barbara three days ago. And his young body had been through a lot of 
sweaty action since then. He'd had more queers panting over him and pawing 
him and sucking on all parts of him than he could remember. If he could just 
get that blasted shower to himself, he'd wash up. But the chances of that 
weren't very good. This was a queer hotel, and the queers were fucking 
around in the showers twenty-four hours a day it seemed, sucking each 
other's cock, beating off, screwing ass, and doing a hundred other queer 
things. 

He struggled up off the bed and stretched in a standing position, arching 
his back and clasping his hands behind his head. His cock was so hard and 
hot that he imagined his prick jutting up to the level of his chin. He 
picked up his rumpled bluejeans from the floor and leaned over as he stepped 
into them. They fit him like skin, hugged his tight ass like cellophane. He 
dreaded the day when they would disintegrate on his ass, but that day wasn't 
far off. He'd worn these beloved jeans so long that some parts of them had 
become almost transparent, like the crotch, which had to contain his 
sausage-like, eight-inch cock. 

He crammed his blood-engorged prick into his jeans, then carefully forced up 
the zipper and snapped them shut. He ran his fingers through his 
shoulder-length hair, then shook his head so it would fall into place. He 
picked the sleep from the corners of his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he 
unlocked his door, stepped out into the hallway, and turned back to lock his 
door behind him. He didn't want to come back to find some bare-assed, 
spread-legged queer waiting for him on his bed-not unless that queer had a 
bundle of money, which the queers who lived in this hotel didn't, or they 
wouldn't be living here. 

He padded down the hallway, floorboards groaning under his bare feet, trying 
not to look into the open rooms that he passed. He didn't want some queer to 
think that his accidental glance was an invitation to fuck. He knew what 
he'd see if he were to look. In the few days he'd been here he'd already 
learned what scene he could expect in each open-doored room on his floor. 

There was the young kid in 305 who lay there all day on his mattress, his 
skinny body naked, his legs spread, his ass up in the air. He appeared 
delirious most of the time, delirious from getting fucked by anybody he 
could lure into his room. Sandy had seen the kid being fucked savagely by a 
huge black man while five other guys were lined up waiting their turns. The 
kid's asshole was so reamed out that Sandy had seen his ass gaping like a 
big mouth, cum leaking out. On that occasion the boy had seen Sandy and had 
wiggled his ass at him. "Come on, honey," the wobbly-eyed kid had said. 
"Plug that big dong of yours in me. I can tell it's a big one, and I'm dying 
to be fucked." Sandy had fled. 

Then there were the two lovers in 312 who fucked and sucked for hours with 
their door wide open. You could hear their grunts and gasps halfway down the 
hall. But, as involved as they were with each other, they still always 
managed to notice who was going by their room. This time was no exception. 

"Billy! Billy! There goes that darling chicken from down the hall. Did you 
get a look at that bulge? He's hung like a donkey." 

"Come back here, little boy," Billy yelled. "Want some candy?" 

"I don't think he'd settle for candy, darling. I think he's after the green 
stuff." 

"Baby, I'd give all the green stuff I owned -if I owned any-for a mouthful 
of his meat." Billy made a sucking sound with his lips. 

Sandy jogged on his toes the rest of the way to the John. They were 
disgusting, every last one of them. And yet his cock always throbbed harder 
than ever from listening to them and from catching glimpses of their antics. 

The bare ceiling light bulb that lit this end of the hallway had burned out. 
Sandy had to press up close to the door to read the sign on the door before 
pushing his way in. He had visions of fumbling around in the near-darkness 
of the hallway and of barging into somebody's room. God only knew what he 
would have found. 

The john hissed with the sounds of showers, 

and Sandy cursed under his breath and headed for the urinals to relieve his 
throbbing bladder. He wondered if he'd ever be able to take a shower 
again-or even take a piss, for christsake. 

A tall naked guy stood in front of one of the two urinals, his right arm 
moving rhythmically. The guy had black hair to his shoulders and a dark tan 
over his entire body, ass included. Sandy stepped to the urinal next to him 
and tried to ignore him as he unsnapped and unzipped to piss. He tried to 
turn away from the guy, but the guy could see over his shoulder. Sandy stood 
there swearing to himself, his stiff prick throbbing in the air, his bladder 
bursting. It was almost impossible to piss with a hard-on, especially when 
some bare-assed, meat-beating queer was staring over his shoulder. 

The tall queer cupped Sandy's ass with a huge hand. "Need some help there, 
big man?" The hand squeezed. 

Sandy squirmed away from him. "Hands off!" 

"Hey, man, cool it," the tall guy said. "It's just that you got such a 
pretty little ass I couldn't help myself." 

Still straining to piss, his stiff pecker almost kissing the slimy porcelain 
of the urinal, Sandy glanced at the guy. About twenty-five, handsome, smooth 
skin, muscular, and-good Jesus!-a cock bigger and more veiny than any cock 
Sandy had ever seen. He felt his mouth drop open at the same moment that he 
felt the hot piss stream upward out of his cock. The tall guy was watching 
Sandy piss, was flicking his tongue over his full purple lips. 

"Hey, baby," the guy said. "Oh, man, you're wasting such a beautiful load." 
The guy sounded like he was going to cry. He dropped to his knees, beating 
his gigantic cock and almost shoving his face in the urinal with Sandy's 
cock. Spit dripped from his tongue-flicked lips. He was panting. "Oh, God, 
baby, piss on me! Squirt down my throat!" 

Without even thinking about it, Sandy turned on him. His yellow piss 
splatted all over the guy's face, dripped from his chin, rolled down his 
tanned chest. The guy's mouth gaped and Sandy shoved his cock into it, 
squirting his piss down the guy's throat. The guy swallowed greedily, 
groaning, gurgling, his eyes rolling back as if in ecstasy. Sandy was so 
fascinated by the sight that he didn't realize that the guy was shooting off 
against his jeans until the guy's hot cum was trickling between his toes. 

Sandy jumped back, the last of his piss hitting the guy in the chest, the 
last of the guy's cum splatting onto the floor in thick white gobs. "Damn 
you! These are my only pair of pants." 

"Sorry," the guy gasped. "Oh, shit, I'm sorry, man." He fell forward onto 
his hands and knees and wrapped his arms around Sandy's legs. He sucked up 
mouthfuls of Sandy's jeans and sucked the cum out of the 

material. 

Sandy watched in fascinated disbelief. 

The guy suddenly fell on his belly on the green-and-white linoleum floor and 
licked the cum off Sandy's insteps and from between his toes. "Mmm, mmm, you 
got the sexiest toes, man. So fucking dirty. You must be a bare-footer, man. 
Mmm!" 

Sandy danced backward before the guy bit his toes off. 

The guy gazed up at him, his six-foot body sprawled out on the floor. The 
guy squirmed in his own spilled cum and in Sandy's piss. "Oh, man, I'm your 
slave, man. Let me suck that big cock of yours, master. Oh, Jesus, let me 
suck that big cock." 

Sandy leaped over him. He had to get away. He pulled open the door of one of 
the toilet stalls so he could get some toilet paper to blow his nose with. 
Some guy was sitting on the toilet beating his cock. The guy's mouth was 
stuffed with a big cock that was sticking through a hole in the stall 
partition. He glanced up at Sandy, letting go of his cock and letting it 
throb in the air. 

"Want a taste, chicky?" he asked, his lips still drooling around the cock 
jutting through the hole in the wall. "Or you want a taste of this one?" He 
offered the cock he'd been sucking to Sandy. Then his gaze fell on Sandy's 
cock and his eyes bugged out. "Oh, chicky, let me eat your meat!" 

Sandy slammed shut the stall door and tried 

to stuff his cock back in his jeans. The tall, totally tanned guy was 
slithering toward him on the floor like an alligator. 

"Shit on me, master. Piss on me. Shove your dirty toes down my throat. Oh, 
you cute baby, I lick the floor you walk on." The guy licked the floor, 
moaning as if he were fucking a hot ass. 

Sandy leaped over him again and headed for the shower cubicles. Steam 
billowed out of the cavelike shower room, and Sandy smelled soap. He inhaled 
the steam, longing to dive into the hissing room and to stand under a hot 
shower for an hour. He stepped into the small toweling-off area and pushed 
his head around the corner into the shower room. 

Two guys who looked like high school seniors or college freshmen looked back 
at him from under one of the showers. One guy was leaned forward, his hands 
braced on his knees, his ass turned up and churning. The other guy was 
standing behind him, grinding his cock in and out of the first guy's 
asshole. The fucked guy's cock was up and glued to his belly. 

"Look at the pretty boy," said the guy who was being fucked. "Come on in, 
beautiful." 

"Hey, yeah," said the guy behind him, never missing a stroke. "Timmy can 
fuck you while I fuck Timmy." 

"A sandwich," Timmy said, rolling his eyes. "And I'll be the filling." 

Sandy got out of there, nearly slipping onto his ass. 

"Hey, if you just wanna suck my cock, that's all right too," came Timmy's 
voice after him. 

Sandy eyed the wash basins lined up in front of a cracked wall mirror. Not 
as good as a shower, but better than nothing at all. The tall guy's hot 
tongue suddenly lapped across Sandy's left foot. It was hopeless. Sandy 
clawed the guy's face with his toenails, then fled the room. As the door 
swung shut behind him, he heard the tall guy moaning. 

"Oh, beautiful! Oh, far out!" 

In his own room, Sandy grabbed his skateboard. He adjusted his throbbing 
pecker in his jeans. 

Gotta get outa here, he kept thinking. Gotta get out. 

As he stepped out into the sunshine a few minutes later, a church bell 
somewhere chimed four o'clock. His day was just beginning. 

CHAPTER TWO 

It was only his third day in this town, and yet he felt as if he'd never 
lived anywhere else. It was as if his years of life in Santa Barbara had 
never happened. Funny, but when he closed his eyes he could hardly imagine 
his dad's face anymore. And all he could remember of that new bitch 
stepmother of his was her shrill voice telling him that now that she was 
living in this house things were going to be different. He'd put up with the 
bitch for a month. No more. Never again. 

Bare toes gripping the edges of his turquoise skateboard, he slalomed down a 
sidewalk that was nearly vertical. He'd never been on hills like this. He 
squatted, arms out to the sides for 

balance. If he crashed he would hit nothing but concrete. He imagined 
himself tumbling down the hill, disappearing in the distance like a runaway 
basketball. He cut the board sharply from side to side, keeping his speed 
down as much as he could. At the bottom of the hill he danced off his board 
and snatched it up. He was on lower Polk Street now, nearing the area in 
which he'd be doing his business. Hugging the skateboard under his left arm, 
he padded up the sidewalk. The concrete was hot under his bare feet. The sun 
reflected off the sidewalk and the buildings and made him sweat. He felt 
trickles of sweat dribbling from his armpits. 

The sidewalks were crawling with people- people getting out of work, kids 
from the high school up at the other end of the street, tourists, cruising 
queers, and a few hustlers. In just a few days he'd gotten to know a lot of 
the hustlers on sight. They leaned up against store fronts on the sunny side 
of the street, spaced at intervals along a three-block stretch. A few of 
them stood together talking. Right now there were probably a dozen of them 
out-the early birds. By seven this evening there was no telling how many 
there'd be. They'd be lined up like pigeons on a building ledge, not only up 
and down this street, but along some of the side streets as well, all the 
way up to Union Square. 

A pimply faced kid in a black leather jacket nodded to Sandy, and Sandy 
nodded back. 

The kid was sweating like a pig. 

"Stay cool," Sandy said, and kept moving. He thought he heard the hustler 
mutter something but he didn't turn around. He hadn't meant to offend the 
kid. 

Sandy passed a restaurant with the scent of tacos pouring out of it. His 
stomach contracted and his mouth watered. He reached into his pocket and 
fingered the bills he'd brought along, then increased his pace. He'd get 
some fruit or something at the food market a few blocks up. Shirtless and 
shoeless, he had no hope of being served in a restaurant. 

A couple of short-haired queers in their twenties were coming toward him, 
looking him up and down. As he passed between them, he heard them both 
breathing like obscene-phone-callers. He smiled inwardly and paused to look 
in the storefront window. He saw only his own reflection-his sun-bleached 
yellow hair caressed by the wind and tickling his wide shoulders, his brown 
eyes, his finely chiseled jawline and nose, his perfectly straight posture. 
His muscles were small, but cleanly squared and deeply tanned. His 
sweat-misted skin shined like polished copper. A glimmer of golden down 
glinted on his upper lip. For just a moment he completely forgot where he 
was. 

A hand fell on his shoulder. It was one of the queers. "Wanna have some fun, 
beautiful?" The queer was smiling coolly, but his hand trembled. 

Sandy twisted out from under the queer's heavy hand. He tossed his head, 
flicking the hair out of his eyes. "Depends." 

"A threesome, with us," the queer said. He nodded toward the other queer, 
who looked as if he might keel over from excitement. 

Sandy could feel the second queer's eyes all over his body like fumbling 
fingers. Lay off! he wanted to scream. He felt as if he were being undressed 
and enjoyed for free. 

"Seventy-five," Sandy said. "And no more than an hour." 

The first queer's cool smile was pulled all out of shape suddenly. "We don't 
pay for it, little boy." 

"Then you don't get it," Sandy said, and he spun away. 

"Jesus Christ, seventy-five dollars!" he heard the first queer say. 
"Outrageous! The kid's out of his mind." 

Sandy sauntered up the sidewalk, feeling good. He stopped in the corner 
market and bought a softball-sized orange, then sat on the sidewalk in front 
of the market eating it. Tiny sprays of sweet-smelling juice arced in the 
sunny air as he peeled the orange and as he tore the succulent meat apart 
and bit into it. Sticky juice fell on his belly and jeans, but he didn't 
care. He was already so grubby that a little orange juice added to 
everything else didn't matter. In fact, he was, beginning to enjoy the 
feeling of being unwashed. It made him feel even sexier. 

A fat man in Bermuda shorts walked by 

with a fat woman who looked like his wife. They were eating icecream cones. 
The word tourist wasn't stamped on their greasy foreheads, but it might as 
well have been. The woman glanced at Sandy. 

"Look at that filthy little hippie," she whispered. 

The man's eyes shifted toward him. "Bet that orange's been injected with 
LSD," he whispered to, his wife. 

"Disgusting!" the woman said. "Oh, look, John! I think that's a homosexual 
across the street." And they crossed over to get a better look. 

Sandy tossed the orange peels into a trash can, then continued up the 
street, licking his fingers. He spotted that blond hustler he'd talked to 
yesterday and the day before. The kid was about his own age and size, but he 
had slightly shorter hair, and he was dressed in white jeans, blue Adidas, 
and a super-tight red T-shirt. The kid leaned up against the same store as 
on the last two afternoons, his white jeans bulging obscenely at the groin. 
He smiled at everybody who walked past him and he waved at passing cars. 
Sandy was about to turn around and head back down the street- he didn't feel 
like talking to Alexis today-but the kid spotted him and waved. Muttering to 
himself, Sandy sauntered over to lean up against the building beside Alexis. 
Alexis was a nice kid, except that he was shamelessly queer, and his passes 
at Sandy made Sandy feel uneasy. 

Alexis rubbed shoulders with Sandy, smiling with that toothpaste-commercial 
smile of his. "How was your night, stud?" 

"Can't complain," Sandy said. "How was yours?" 

"Not bad, except I had to be home by midnight. School this morning, you 
know." 

"Oh yeah, you're still one of those schoolboys." 

"Two more years after this one," Alexis said, almost sounding enthused. 
"School's right up the street." 

"Convenient," Sandy said. "For your after-school job." 

Alexis laughed, punching him in the shoulder. 

"Hey, baby, how's your favorite chicken today?" A short-haired guy with a 
black mustache had approached from up the street and now was stroking 
Alexis' downy cheek. He leaned forward and they kissed each other. Then he 
glanced toward Sandy. "So this is the raving beauty you've been telling me 
about. My God, what a sexy little hunk of man!" 

Sandy smiled, not knowing what to say. He felt the sudden urge to run. He 
looked away from the guy. 

"Coming along?" the mustached guy asked Sandy. 

"I haven't asked him yet," Alexis said quickly. 

"Asked me what?" Sandy was getting 

uneasier by the moment. 

Alexis grabbed the guy's arm. "Would you mind if I talked to him alone for a 
minute, Tony?" 

The guy nodded and walked a short distance up the sidewalk to look into a 
store window. He whistled to himself, glancing from time to time toward 
Sandy. 

Sandy didn't like the vibrations. "What is this?" he asked Alexis. 

Alexis spoke in a low voice. "Tony wants you to come along. He tips like you 
wouldn't believe." 

"I suppose he wants a threesome in bed." 

"No. Just you and me. Tony just likes to watch, just likes to watch and jack 
off. We make it, and he watches. If I know him, he'll give us each a 
hundred." 

"Jesus Christ!" Sandy could hardly believe getting that much. For just a 
moment, he was tempted to go along. But only for a moment. "Nah, I don't 
think so!" 

Alexis stopped smiling. "Why not?" 

"I just don't think so." 

"It's a hundred bucks. You'll have to turn three tricks to make that much, 
and there's no telling what kinky stuff you might run into. This is easy, 
man-just you and me." 

That was exactly what Sandy didn't like about the arrangement. He just 
didn't want to make it with Alexis. "Nah, it's not for me." 

"You can have my hundred too," Alexis said. 

"You crazy?" 

"That's two hundred bucks," Alexis said. He ran the tips of his fingers down 
Sandy's chest, looking like a teenager with spring fever and lovesickness 
combined. "Two hundred bucks for making it with me." 

"No thanks," Sandy said. He dropped his skateboard, jumped on it, and pushed 
off like a ski racer. Within seconds he was a half block down the sidewalk, 
slaloming through the crowd. 

* * * 

Alexis had been right about never knowing what kink you might run into. 
Sandy had the feeling that this fat, middle-aged businessman was going to 
get even kinkier. 

Sandy was standing on his skateboard in a doorway of the man's ritzy 
apartment near the Presidio. At his back was a large dining room, its long 
table set with china and crystal and silver. In front of him was the living 
room with its fireplaces and grand piano. For support Sandy grasped a 
doorway chinning bar above his head. 

The fat man was stark naked, his stubby hard-on wagging below his 
balloon-like, jelly belly as he paced back and forth in the lush white 
carpeting. Sandy still had his pants up and zipped. The man didn't want to 
see his "organ," as the man called it. "You're disgracefully naked enough 
already," the man had said, turning up his nose while he pulled off his gray 
trousers and revealed the pantyhose underneath. Now the pantyhose had come 
off, and the man resembled a naked Santa Claus. 

The guy got down on all fours and crawled back and forth across the room 
like a dog, sniffing the carpeting and the leg of the grand piano. The 
blubber on his ass and belly shivered. His erect cock was lost somewhere 
under his swaying belly, and Sandy imagined the huge abdomen to be a cow's 
udder swollen with gallons of milk. The man moved toward Sandy, tongue 
hanging out, panting, and he sniffed at Sandy's toes, which were curled 
around the edge of the skateboard. 

Sandy had the sudden fear that the man might lift one of his legs and try to 
piss on him. "Hey, man, what is this? You gonna blow me or what?" 

The man's red face turned up, jowls quivering. "Please keep your foul little 
mouth shut. I'm not paying you for any of that adolescent lip. Filthy little 
streetwalker! Who do you think you are?" He leaned his head down and started 
to chew on the big toe of Sandy's left foot. At the same time, he reached 
under his belly, found his stubby cock, and began to beat it. He made 
growling sounds like a dog. 

Sandy was too stunned to respond. The man's hot mouth closed around his big 
toe, sucking hard, and Sandy felt thrills shoot up his leg and make the skin 
on his balls crawl. 

His prick throbbed in his jeans, achingly confined. 

"Filthy toes. Filthy little slut." The man continued to growl, sucking and 
biting on Sandy's toes. He gnawed on Sandy's toenails, licking underneath 
their edges with the tip of his tongue. "Dirty little barefoot hippie." 

Sandy's toes wriggled. His cock was on fire. He felt as if his prick had 
swelled as big as an arm. Why didn't this fat fucker suck his cock and get 
it over with? First it was the tall guy in the John and now it was this 
toad, sucking on his toes as if they'd been dipped in honey. What the fuck 
was going on? Was this a conspiracy to drive him out of his mind? He'd 
always had sensitive feet, which was why he went barefooted all the time. 
Sometimes his toes felt almost as sexy and sensitive as his cock, like right 
now, with this fat queer sucking the dirt off them. Suck my cock! he wanted 
to scream. That toe-sucking is driving me crazy! Suck my cock before I shoot 
off in my pants! 

The guy nuzzled down under his feet so he could lick the soles. Then he 
lapped up and down the tanned insteps, gnawing on the thick foot tendons, 
sucking on the veins. "Whore," he muttered. "Gutter tramp." 

If Sandy hadn't felt so goddamned horny he would have slugged the guy. 
Enough was enough. 

"Suck my goddamned cock, man! Eat my meat!" Sandy hung from the chinning 
bar, writhing, humping at the air. His cock shimmied against the denim of 
his jeans. "Jesus Christ, blow me!" 

The fat guy looked up, face as red as an excited cockhead, spit leaking from 
his slack mouth, tongue hanging. "I-told you to be quiet, you smelly little 
boy. I'm not paying you to tell me what to do." He kneeled up suddenly, 
threw his arms around Sandy's ass, and wrapped his huge mouth around Sandy's 
cock-shaft. 

The heat and wetness of the guy's mouth penetrated the thin denim 
immediately. Sandy's cock swelled, fingers of fire running all over and 
through his prick. Had the guy's mouth stayed wrapped around his cock for 
one more second, Sandy would have creamed his jeans with a quart of cum. But 
the guy was suddenly standing up and sucking on Sandy's left armpit. Then he 
was chewing on Sandy's nipples. He dove under Sandy's right arm and munched 
on the bristly sprig of blond armpit hair. Then he was sliding down again. 

"Turn around, stinky little goat. Turn around." The guy twisted on Sandy's 
legs. 

Sandy pulled on the chinning bar and swiveled his body around so he was 
facing into the dining room. Through the window across the room he could see 
the eucalyptus trees of the Presidio. He curled his toes around the edges of 
his skateboard and clung to the chinning bar above. The guy had reached 
around him and had unsnapped his jeans and 

was unzipping them, The guy sank down, peeling Sandy's jeans off his ass. 
Sandy's cock sprang out, its piss-slit open and cradling a clear tear of 
sex-lube. The tear of fuck-lube stared at the ceiling like an eye. The guy 
drove his nose and lips between Sandy's asscheeks and started to munch and 
slurp. 

"Mmm, shitty young ass! I bet you're a well-fucked little bitch. Mmm, hot 
shithole, mmmmm!" He growled again like a dog, gnawing at Sandy's asspucker, 
ramming his tongue in circles around the pulsating pucker edges. 

Sandy gasped, his heart thudding against his breastbone like a rubber-headed 
sledge hammer. His ass wiggled in circles. A hundred thoughts and images 
swirled through his mind. He envisioned that kid in the hotel shower this 
afternoon, churning his cock-stuffed ass against the other kid's 
ass-smacking belly. He could hear the squishing of the one kid's cock in the 
other kid's asshole. 

"Oh, Jesus!" Sandy moaned. "Oh, shit!" 

The fat man's hot tongue screwed into Sandy's asshole. The man gripped 
Sandy's hips and jerked Sandy's ass back and forth against his face, fucking 
Sandy's asshole faster and faster with his sizzling tongue. 

"Oh, man, oh, wowww!" Sandy had never felt anything like this. He'd never 
allowed anybody to push anything up his asshole before. He'd never even 
shoved his own finger more than an inch up his asshole before, because that 
was something queers liked to do. And he wasn't queer. Damn it, he wasn't 
queer. But this felt so good. Jesus, this felt so good. Just this one time 
wouldn't matter. It was an experiment, and it had happened so fast that he 
hadn't had a chance to resist it anyway. He gyrated his ass in tight 
circles. "Mann, oh, Jesus!" 

He felt the guy's tongue slip out of his ass. He heard himself groan. He 
felt the guy crawling up his body. He was just about to look over his 
shoulder to see what the guy was up to when fire exploded in his scalp. The 
guy had him by the hair and was trying to snap his neck. Sandy's feet went 
up in the air; the skateboard went tumbling onto the uncarpeted floor of the 
dining room, and Sandy landed on his back in the thick carpet. His head 
thumped the floor and he saw flashes of light behind his eyeballs. A second 
later he found his shoulders pinned to the floor by the fat man's knees, 
found himself straining for breath under the crushing weight of the man's 
blubbery ass on his chest, found the man's bone-stiff prick burning his 
lips. The hot cock slipped into his mouth, kissed his tonsils. The hard rod 
of prick swelled, vibrated, flexed. Salty cum spurted down Sandy's throat. 
He gagged, choked, then swallowed. 

The fat man groaned. "Ohhhhh, ohhhhh!" His cock jerked and squirmed in 
Sandy's mouth. Another round of thick cum squirted down Sandy's throat. 

Sandy was helpless. He felt as if he were all head and mouth, as if his only 
function was to suck cock and to swallow cum. The man was using his head, 
using his mouth. It was as if Sandy's mouth were a jack-off toy, a hot hole 
in which to shove a cock and to squirt cum. Sandy swallowed reflexively, 
sucking down each round of the fat man's cum. His lips, his tongue, his 
cheeks-all responded to each swell and vibration and flex of the man's cock. 
It was fascinating, this man's cock shooting off in his mouth. And it all 
seemed to be happening in slow motion. Sandy could feel every twitch and 
flutter of the hot cock in his mouth. He closed his eyes, sucking and 
swallowing until the stubby cock softened. 

The man climbed off him and crawled across the room for his clothes. Sandy 
lay there a few moments stunned. Some cum clung to his lips and he licked it 
off. Then he felt like vomiting. He rolled to a sitting position, his cock 
glued to his belly like a hot poker. 

"You goddamned queer! I oughta kill you for that!" 

The man snatched his suit jacket up off the floor and reached into a side 
pocket. He pulled out a small metallic object and held it at arm's length 
toward Sandy. "Don't make a move, you little tramp. This is mace, hot-shot. 
Come near me and I'll burn your eyes out." 

Sandy backed away on his ass. In the dining room he slowly stood up and 
pulled his jeans back up. He forced his raging cock into his 

pants and sucked in his breath so he could zip them up. He kept his eyes on 
the toad. 

The man watched him, can of mace gripped in his right hand while he pulled 
on a huge pair of boxer shorts. The man's stubby erection had shriveled to a 
pink acorn. Boxer shorts on, the man picked up his suit jacket again and 
reached into the other pocket. He threw a small brown envelope at Sandy. It 
hit the floor in the dining room with a thud and the sound of rattling 
coins. 

Sandy snatched it up. "Hey, man, what is this?" He tore the envelope open, 
his heart pounding with mounting anger. If this guy thought he could get off 
by throwing Sandy a handful of dimes and quarters, he was crazy. They'd 
agreed on fifty bucks, and Sandy had expected getting a blow job out of the 
deal, not giving one. 

Sandy dumped the contents into his hand. A half-dozen quarters and a wad of 
ten-dollar bills. Sandy counted them. Four. 

"Hey, man, I got ten more coming." 

The man had pulled on his pants. His huge paunch drooped over the front of 
his belt. "That's forty-one dollars and fifty cents, slut. I never pay more 
than forty. The dollar-fifty is a tip. Now pick up your toy and get out of 
my home." 

"You owe me ten, man." 

The man held the mace cannister at arm's length. "I owe you nothing, you 
Godless homosexual." He picked up the telephone with his free hand. "Get out 
of my home now before I call the police. I have friends on the force, and 
they hate hippie boys and queers, of which you are both." 

Sandy wanted to kill him. He picked up his skateboard. The crystal and china 
on the dining room table caught his eye. For just a moment he was almost 
overcome by the desire to pound the table with the flat of his board, 
smashing every goblet and plate in sight. 

"Out!" the man said. "Now!" He punched a few buttons on the phone. 

Sandy edged past him toward the front door. The man held the mace canister 
at arm's length, aimed at Sandy's head. The man turned slowly as Sandy 
passed him, following Sandy's every step as if he were a cameraman filming 
him. Sandy stood at the front door, hand on the brass knob, his back to the 
toad. 

"Wait," the toad said. "No, don't turn around. I have a few words for you." 

Sandy's hand trembled, sweating around the door knob. He imagined his hand 
ripping the knob out of the door and hurling it at the man's balloon-like 
head. He saw the man's head explode, saw gobs of yellow stuff like chicken 
fat suddenly glue to the walls. 

"You might think that I have homosexual tendencies, but believe me, I do 
not," the man said. "I'm a happily married man with two wonderful children 
and a secure job in the financial district. I own this apartment and all you 
see in it. Two hours from now I shall sit at 

the head of my dinner table in the loving company of my family, enjoying a 
wonderful meal and listening to the voices of my loved ones telling me about 
their day. My boy is your age, young man. A fine boy-athlete, scholar, 
musician. He is clean, groomed, and impeccably dressed. He wears shoes at 
all times. My wife is a handsome woman, a professional woman. She and I 
enjoy a perfectly harmonious sexual relationship. I have many friends in 
positions of power in this city. I am a powerful man myself. I brought you 
here simply to teach you a lesson, to show you what you are, to show you 
what you could be. Come up out of the gutter, young man. Pick yourself up by 
your bootstraps, as they say. Make something of yourself. Give up your 
Godless homosexuality." 

Sandy was more stunned by the man's speech than by anything else that had 
happened in this rich apartment near the Presidio. He felt a tension 
building in his chest, and suddenly words burst out of him. "Now look, man-" 

"Silence! Get out! Get out!" 

"Man, you're outa your fucking head!" 

"Operator, get me the police." 

Sandy yanked open the door and bounded down the two flights of carpeted 
steps that led up to the man's apartment. He burst through the front door of 
the large Victorian mansion, took the porch steps three at a time, ran down 
the long front walkway, and leapt down three 

more steps onto the public sidewalk. His heart banged. Escaped from an 
insane asylum, he thought. Free again. 

CHAPTER THREE 

He found himself bound and gagged and stark naked in a large flat somewhere 
south of Market Street. They had his pants, they had his skateboard, they 
had his money-the forty-one dollars and fifty cents he'd earned two hours 
ago from the loony toad in the rich apartment near the Presidio. Right now 
he wished he was back in the toad's apartment sucking the toad's four-inch 
boner. At least the toad was no more dangerous than a can of mace and some 
threats to call the cops. He didn't know what to expect from these guys. So 
far, all he knew for sure was that he couldn't trust them at all. He'd kind 
of liked the smiling, muscular, handsome young man who had picked him up a 
half-hour ago. He'd never dreamed that the guy would bring him here to be 
ambushed by a dozen other guys, had never dreamed that he'd be stripped, 
tied up, then gagged with a dirty jockstrap. Was this treally happening? Or 
was he dead and in hell? If he was alive, how long would he stay that way? 

They had him bound in a seated position on a metal card-table chair, arms 
behind him and tied to the back of the chair, legs spread apart so wide that 
his inner thighs ached from the stretch. Wide bands of steel shackled his 
ankles, ankle bracelets attached to chains which were in turn bolted to the 
floor of the large livingroom. Sandy thought again of the comment Alexis had 
made about never knowing what kind of kinky stuff you might run into. Things 
seemed to be getting kinkier by the minute. Whoever owned or rented this 
flat had steel shackles bolted to his floor right through the red carpeting. 
What could be kinkier than that? Sandy wondered whether red carpeting had 
been chosen for the apartment because blood stains wouldn't show so much on 
red. 

"Isn't he a doll?" 

Three guys were standing in front of him with drinks in their hands. Like 
all the other guys in the apartment, they wore no clothes, and their cocks 
were in a state of excitement. Like all the other guys in the place, these 
three resembled each other-lean, muscular, short-haired, mustached, and in 
their twenties or thirties. The only differences among all these guys were 
in their heights, in the amounts of body-hair each displayed-some 
hairy-chested and hairy-bellied, others perfectly smooth- and in the sizes 
of the cocks. The smaller cocks were about six inches. The average cock-size 
was abut seven inches. And a few guys had bigger cocks. One guy looked like 
he had at least ten inches. 

"Where did Roger ever find him?" 

"Corner of Post Street and Polk. He was just sitting there on his skateboard 
looking seductive, Roger says." 

"My God, he looks fit to be raped." 

"Doesn't he, though? And look at that slab of meat." 

"And those balls." 

"And on such a little boy." 

"All man, though. No doubt about that." 

"Bet he'll hit the ceiling when he comes." 

One of the three got down on his knees ; between Sandy's legs and kissed 
Sandy's balls with his liquor-sticky lips. Sandy's prick jumped, pointing 
straight at the ceiling. His prick had been hard as a rock even while they'd 
bound and gagged him. It was because of his hard cock that he felt only a 
vague fear now. He was too horny to care about much else than getting his 
cock satisfied. He squirmed in his chair, his loins humping spontaneously. 
He'd never been so horny in his life. His groin ached. His cock felt as if 
the 

skin were splitting off it like a banana peel off a banana. His cock felt as 
big as a telephone pole. And so hot-hot as the sun. 

The queer kissed his balls again, then sucked on them one at a time. The 
other two queers were leaned over his shoulder, watching. Sandy's cock felt 
as if it would take off like a rocket. He moaned into the dirty jock that 
had been stuffed into his mouth. His loins wouldn't stop humping. 

"Horny little prick, isn't he?" 

The queer got under Sandy's balls and started licking at Sandy's asspucker. 
Due to Sandy's leaned-back position on the chair, his asspucker was as 
exposed as his balls were. The queer got his tongue into Sandy's asshole. 
Sandy snapped his head from side to side, moaning loudly. His loins felt 
like they were going to explode. The queer's tongue wriggled inside him like 
a hot snake. 

"Lowing like a young calf." 

"John, John, look over here." 

The other queers were coming over now to watch Sandy squirm. He felt like a 
zoo attraction, but he couldn't stop moaning and writhing. And strangely, 
the more queers who came over to watch him, the hotter he felt and the more 
wildly he thrashed. 

"Isn't he an angel? I must remember to clip a few of his golden locks for my 
collection." 

"And I want a little bit of everything-cock-hairs, armpit hairs, even a few 
of his toenails." 

"You kinky boy, you!" Laughter. 

"Hey, what's going on over here. Didn't I say to save him for later?" 
Roger's voice. "Jesus Christ!" 

"But Roggy, how do you expect us to keep our hands off the hottest chicken 
stud to offer himself in weeks?" 

"We're not through with the other one yet," Roger said. 

"Jesus, Rog, he's burnt out and sucked out. His pretty blue eyes were just 
about shriveling up to rainsins, he's been sucked and fucked so much. This 
one is fresh, just bursting with cum." 

"Yeah, Rog, that other chicken is gonna turn into a ghost if we don't give 
him a break." 

"He wants more, though," Roger said. "He's begging for it." 

"Sure, he's begging all right, Tuck me, fuck me, fuck me,' in his girlish 
little voice. Christ, the kid's been screwed so much he's in a fuck-trance. 
Give him a break, Rog." 

"Give me a break, Roger. I want a little action too. That other kid is too 
damn young for me. At least this one's got a voice that's already changed." 

"How can you tell with that jock stuffed in his mouth?" 

"Ungag him, somebody. Let's hear what he has to say." 

"You guys are hopeless," Roger said. "All right, let's have some fun with 
our little hippie skateboarder." Cheers. 

Somebody untied the gag and yanked the wadded jock out of Sandy's mouth. A 
relieved groan escaped his throat. His jaw throbbed. He continued to hump at 
the air while the queer kneeling before him continued to lick out his 
asshole. He saw everything through a slight blur. He was delirious, his 
heart slamming in his chest, his blood pounding in his temples. He was all 
heat, all prickles, all an aching throb. It felt as if zillions of 
electrified drill bits were jabbing at the tips of his toes. 

"Suck me," he mumbled, spit dribbling out of his slack mouth. "Suck my dick, 
oh, suck my dick, oh, suck ..." The words rolled out of his mouth beyond his 
control. He was only vaguely aware of what he was saying, only vaguely aware 
of what he was seeing and hearing around him. 

"Jesus, he's possessed!" 

"Just a horny boy. We were all like that before we became so fucking jaded." 

"Jaded, nothing. Who in the hell is jaded? Not me, boy. Let me at that big 
beautiful teenage cock-mmmmm!'' 

"Me too." 

"Oh, fuck, what a hot chicken!" 

They were all over him then, like locusts on a succulent plant. Mouths 
wrapped around his cockshaft. Tongues lapped at his cockhead. Hot lips 
sucked on both his nipples. Mouths 

closed over his lips, mouths reeking of brandy and wine, of whiskey and 
beer. They were smothering him, tasting him, devouring him. Dripping tongues 
drilled into his ears. Teeth chewed his earlobes. Every inch of his skin 
flashed hot and cold with goosebumps. They were bhind him, chewing on his 
asscheeks gnawing on his shoulders and neck. Tongues slithered up and down 
his asscrack. They sucked at his armpits, yanking out the hairs with their 
teeth. Stubbly cheeks sandppered his sensitive inner thighs. They chewed on 
his calves, sucked and gnawed on his toes. Fingers massaged his scalp, 
fingers crawled all over him. He screamed into open mouths, chewed at 
jawbones. The smell of male bodies made him dizzy, made him disgusted yet 
thrilled. He inhaled deeply, filling his lungs and his head with the sweaty, 
muscky scent of more than a dozen hard-cocked guys. 

"Luscious nuts." 

"Beautiful cock." 

"Delicious boy." 

Their mutterings filled the air like swarms of butterflies. It seemed as if 
there were hundreds of guys making love to him. He was so excited he wanted 
to jump out of his skin. 

"Ohhh, suck my cock, suck it, suck it," he muttered. The trouble was that 
although there were a half-dozen mouths and tongues munching and licking at 
his cock at the same time, none of those mouths swallowed his cockhed. 
Nobody was really going down on him. They were all just licking and munching 
up and down the sides of his cock. All he needed was one hot mouth to wrap 
itself around his cock-head and he'd shoot, but he wasn't getting it. These 
guys seemed more intent on teasing him, on torturing him, than on bringing 
him off. "Suck it offfffff! Suck it offfffff!" 

A hand grabbed his hair and twisted his head to the side. He found himself 
staring at a big cock and a pumping hand. Fuck-lube dribbled out the 
piss-slit of the cock and rolled down over the knuckles of the pumping hand. 

"Sexy little god," the owner of the cock and hand said, "you've got me so 
horny I just can't hold off another second." 

Sandy watched fascinated as the piss-slit of the guy's purple prickhead 
gaped and as a white rope of hot cum spurted out, gluing itself to his face 
like a sticky strand of hot spaghetti. 

The guy pressed his cockhead to Sandy's lips and spurted again and again 
between them. "Eat it, you little whore. Come on, eat it." The guy pulled 
Sandy's hair and Sandy's clenched mouth opened. The guy's big spurting cock 
slipped in, and hot cum splashed against Sandy's tonsils. He could do 
nothing but to suck and swallow. 

The guy's orgasm caused a commotion. The queers were all excited about the 
hot cum dripping off Sandy's chin. They licked and gobbled the spilled cum, 
sucking it off Sandy's chest, licking it off his nipples. Sandy was 

aware of a guy licking the spurting guy's balls while Sandy sucked the 
spurting guy's cock. 

"Beautiful," somebody said. "Look at that pretty chicken eat cock." 

"Wonder if he can handle this one?" somebody else said, and this time it was 
the guy with the biggest cock in the room, the guy with the ten-incher. He 
pushed the other guy out of the way and held Sandy by the hair. His cock 
resembled a dripping cobra as he swung and beat his prick against Sandy's 
face. He rubbed his big cock in the first guy's cum, sliding the big 
prickhead up and down Sandy's cum-sticky cheek. Then he greased Sandy's lips 
with the cummy donghead. "Open up, pretty boy. Eat my pecker." 

Sandy choked as the enormous cock stretched his jaw and stuffed his throat. 
Only half the prick would fit into Sandy's mouth. If the guy tried to force 
all his cock in, Sandy would surely choke to death, the guy's fist-sized 
prickhead throbbing in his stomach. 

Spit bubbled out of Sandy's mouth and leaked down the guy's steel-hard 
cockshaft. Two queers, one on each side of the guy, licked Sandy's spit off 
the guy's prickshaft. Two other queers were sucking on the guy's balls, just 
as two other queers were down between Sandy's legs and sucking his own nuts. 
One of the ball-licking queers twisted a wet finger up Sandy's asshole, and 
Sandy's eyes almost popped out of his head. 

Jesus Christ, what more were they going to do to him? He felt so horny, so 
frustrated, that he wished he could die. 

Somebody bring me off, he tried to beg, though the words sounded as only a 
pained groan in his cock-stuffed throat. Somebody please bring me off! The 
finger up his asshole wriggled, poking and jabbing his throbbing prostate 
gland, and Sandy's toes clawed at the mouths sucking them. 

The ten-inch cock began to fuck in and out of Sandy's mouth. Sandy's lips 
were stretched like a rubberband around the veiny cockshaft. He felt the 
ridged edges of the guy's prickhead on his tongue nad against the roof of 
his mouth. He could feel the guy's prick-arteries twitching against his 
upper lip. He was finding the fucking movement of the big cock in his mouth 
strangely stimulating. Maybe it was just because he was so horny that he was 
almost out of his mind, but he found himself liking the guy's cock in his 
mouth. He liked the feel, the salty taste, the smell. 

I must be losing my mind, he thought, beginning to suck hungrily on the big 
meaty cock-because suddenly he realized that he wanted the big prick's cum. 
He wanted to feel the hot spurts against his tonsils, wanted to suck the big 
juicy prick until he'd drained every drop of sweet, thick cum. 

"Mmm!" he moaned, bobbing his head, sucking, flapping his tongue at the 
sensitive underside of the sliding prickhead. "Mmm! Mmmmm!" 

"Wow, look at that baby suck cock!" 

"You ever see anyting so cute in your life? Look at those big brown eyes 
roll." 

"The kid's in ecstasy. Jesus, what a cock-sucker!" 

"Ohhh, Christ, he's good!" said the guy fucking Sandy's mouth. "Oh, baby, 
what a set of lips! What a fucking hot tongue!" The man humped, sliding his 
cock more easily in Sandy's mouth. "Oh, baby boy!" He was panting now, 
brunting, his cock fucked faster and faster. "Ooooh, ahhhh, baby, take my 
load!" His words became a drawn-out groan. His cock swelled, hardened, 
flexed, his heavy load flooded Sandy's throat. "Ahhhhhh!" 

Sandy choked, gagged, gurgled. The man's spurts were hot, thick, profuse, 
almost more than Sandy could handle. He closed his eyes and swallowed as 
fast as he could, his tingling lips sucking all the while, the delicious 
alkaline taste and scent of the man's cum overwhelming his senses. He felt 
the hot cum leak down his throat, felt it form a warm pool in his stomach. 
He sucked rhythmically, teasing every last spurt and oozing drop out of the 
man's long, thick cock. As the man withdrew his softening cock from Sandy's 
mouth, Sandy's lips smacked together. Although still agonizingly horny, 
Sandy felt a momentary sense of satisfaction. 

He was allowed no chance to dwell on his new feelings, however, because 
suddenly there were two guys blasting their hot cum against his face 
simultaneously. Hot cum spurted on his cheeks from both sides, and he 
groaned, "Don't waste it. Oh, Don't-" He cut his own words off by swallowing 
up the cock to his right. "Mmmmm!" The guys' sweet cum shot down his throat 
while the other guy continued to shoot off against his left cheek. 

Then there were tongues on his face, lapping off the fresh cum. The queers 
went after fresh cum like cats after milk hot from the cow's udder. Sandy 
couldn't blame them now though; he was beginning to like the stuff himself. 

Hands moved up and down his cock, hands lubricated by spit and fuck-lube. 
Two guys kneeled between his legs now, one guy working on Sandy's cock with 
two hands, the other guy massaging Sandy's balls with one hand and rubbing 
Sandy's prostate gland with the middle finger of the other hand. They were 
going to let him come now, were going to bring him off at last-he knew it. 

Sandy chuckled with relief, writhing sensuously, licking his lips, putting 
on a show for the queers surrounding him. He was the absolute center of 
attention. He was a god they were all whorshipping. He tried to visualize 
himself-naked, bound, legs spread to a near full-split, head tossing, yellow 
hair swaying over the back of the metal chair, body gleaming with sweat and 
cum and spit, two guys kneeling in front of him and making love to his cock 
and balls and asshole, guys squatting 

behind him and chewing on his asscheeks, another guy licking his back. Two 
guys leaned over him and sucked alternately on his nipples and his armpits. 
Two guys crouched at his feet, sucking and biting his toes, licking his 
insteps and up and down his calves. One of the toe-licking guys suddenly 
rubbed his cock against Sandy's right foot and ejaculated, creaming Sandy's 
foot with hot cum. Another guy got down and licked the cum out from between 
Sandy's toes. 

"Oh, yeah, yeah, man!" Sandy moaned, writhing, twisting his head. "Eat them 
hot toes! Beat off that big sexy dick!" He couldn't believe he'd said those 
words. He must be fucking out of his mind. In school he had been too timid 
to even speak in class, and here he was mumbling all kinds of crazy things 
in front of a dozen or more naked men whom he didn't even know. He'd fucking 
blown his mind. "Oh, yeah, that's it, make it cream! I'm gonna fucking blow 
the roof off this place." 

Guys were watching him open-mouthed. Guys were trembling. Guys who had 
already blown their loads were beating off again while watching him build to 
his climax. The guys weren't saying much anymore. They'd suddenly become 
very serious, their clever talk replaced by heavy breathing. 

"Man, what a beautiful teenage stud!" somebody whispered. 

A guy waddled forward in a half-squat position, his hand a blur in his 
sizzling cock. 

Wtih a groan of pleasure, he spurted his hot cum on Sandy's cock. Before 
he'd even finished spurting, another guy leaned over and emptied his loins 
onto Sandy's cock. Sandy's cock squirmed like a fish in the big hands 
masturbating it. His cock was bathed in hot cum. He twisted in his chair, 
his eyes rolling drunkenly. He felt the ropes of cum uncoiling in his balls. 

"Oooooooh! Ahhhhhhh! I'm gonna cum, man! I'm gonna-Jesus Christ!" His body 
arched up, quivering like a sprung bow. He heard all the guys gasp. His body 
jerked. It felt as if his spinal cord was being ripped out through his 
asshole. "Ohhhhhhhh, ohhhhhhh, ohhhhhhhhhhh!" 

The cum spurted up higher than his head, spurted in quick-fired rounds. Hot 
cum splatted down all over him. The guys were all around him, mouths gaping, 
hands open, trying to catch his cum-wads while they were still suspended in 
the air. His prick was going off like a geyser. The orgasmic sensations 
gripped his entire body. He felt them in his toes and his fingers, felt them 
in his scalp and behind his knees. He was one big hot squirting cock. The 
sensations became so intense that he began to scream. A hand clamped over 
his mouth and he gnawed at it. 

An entire minute passed before he settled down in his chair again. His 
orgasm had seemed to go on forever. He slumped in his chair, his belly 
heaving, his cock softening but 

still twitching. He felt absolutely drained. He didn't think he'd ever be 
able to stand up again. The queers were all over him, munching on his flesh, 
sucking and licking the cum off him. They made cooing sounds, lip-smacking 
sounds. They were like drone honeybees swarming all over their queen. They 
were eating him alive. He was a living feast. 

"Don't," he said feebly. "Leave me alone. Just let me rest. Please." 

They paid him no attention. They were sucking on his armpits again, licking 
under his balls, nibbling on his nipples. Three guys were making his 
softened cock flop around, watching with fascinated eyes. 

Sandy yawned. His own eyes were heavy. The last thing he was aware of before 
sleep overwhelmed him was of somebody kissing him on the mouth. He tried to 
push the guy away, but he knew it was a futile effort. He felt so fucking 
weak, so weak, so weak . . . 

CHAPTER FOUR 

He was on the beach, cliffs behind him, the Pacific in front of him. To the 
west he could see the pier and the yacht harbor. To the east, just more 
beach. He turned east and walked on, feeling the wind nibble at his ass 
through the holes in his jeans. His jeans were rags now, but they were all 
he had left. No skateboard, no surfboard, no shirt, no shoes, no money. He 
sauntered down the beach, hair flapping behind him in the wind, toes digging 
into the sun-warmed sand. 

He heard somebody call his name. Glancing toward the base of the cliffs, he 
noticed them suddenly-the guys from his high school. They were sprawled out 
on boulders, lying on the 

sand, leaning up against the cliffs-all of them nude, all of them 
hard-cocked, all of them playing with themselves and grinning at him. Sandy 
unzipped his jeans, stepped out of them, and took his hardening cock in his 
hand. "Hi, guys,"he said. 

"Heard you were up in San Francisco," said a guy leaning up against a 
boulder. He pumped his cock while he spoke. 

Sandy recognized the guy, as he did all the guys before him now, but he 
couldn't remember the guy's name. He couldn't remember any of the guys' 
names. He could remember the name of the city, though-Santa Barbara, his 
home town. 

"Yeah," Sandy said, pumping his own cock, "I was up there-sucking dick." 

"Didn't know you sucked dick," the guy ^aid, grinning. 

"All I can get," Sandy said. "Love them big dicks." 

The guys who were sprawled across boulders or lying on the sand all started 
getting up. All the guys stepped forward, forming a line down the beach-a 
long line. Holding hands, they faced Sandy, their cocks erected to a 
forty-five-degree angle and throbbing in unison. Sandy could sense the thud, 
thud, thud of their heartbeats. He looked down the beach and saw an endless 
line of naked guys, an endless row of hard cocks. Fuck-lube dripped from the 
tips of their twitching pricks, some of it falling in heavy droplets to the 
dry sand, some of it 

sliding to the sand in spittle-like strands. Sandy fell to his knees in 
front of the first guy and started sucking his cock. While he sucked, he 
beat on his own cock. 

The guy sighed, wiggling his ass, fucking his hard cock in and out of 
Sandy's mouth. "Suck that big horny dick. Eat the cum out of it." He came 
within seconds, his sweet jism sliding down Sandy's throat. 

Sandy kissed the guy's deflating prick, then moved on to the next guy in 
line. The guy groaned as Sandy went down on him. 

One by one, Sandy moved down the line, sucking cocks, eating cum. His belly 
was filling with warm teenage cum. His body tingled all over. He loved 
sucking cock, and, with each new cock he sucked, he became hungrier. He'd 
sucked a dozen cocks, two dozen, three dozen, and still the line of horny 
young studs stretched down the beach as far as he could see. They were his 
schoolmates, his lovers. He was going to suck off every last one of them, 
and then he was going to return to the front of the line and began again. He 
would be sucking cock forever, and he would never get tired of it. 

He was sucking a big cock that stuck out of a nearly hairless groin. He was 
running his hands up and down the guy's baby-smooth legs and was massaging 
his silky-skinned ass. The guy was petting his head. Sandy looked up into a 
set of blue eyes. 

"How did you get here?" Sandy said, recog- 

nizing the boy. 

"I followed you," Alexis said, kneading Sandy's scalp with his fingertips. 
"Like my cock?" 

"Mmm," Sandy said, going down on the boy again. 

Alexis spurted instantly. Hot cum streamed down Sandy's throat. Sandy moved 
on to the next boy. 

His face was stuffed with hot hard cock. It was as if he'd never been 
without a cock in his mouth, as if he'd been born sucking prick. He sucked 
and sucked and sucked, couldn't stop sucking. Another cock went off like a 
geyser in his mouth . . . 

He was choking now, gagging. He woke up with hot tears in his eyes. The cock 
in his mouth was enormous and wouldn't stop shooting. Huge hands were 
clamped over his head, forcing more and more thick cock down his throat. 
Sandy felt himself blacking out. The donkey-cock withdrew enough so that he 
could breathe. More salty cum spurted into Sandy's mouth. 

"Little darling," the guy said, petting Sandy's head. The guy's cock 
softened slightly, still oozing cum. 

Sandy sucked the pisstube dry. He licked the big fat prickhead, not wanting 
to let the cock out of his mouth. He didn't know where he was, and the prick 
in his mouth gave him a sense of security. 

Pricking up his ears and letting his eyes wander, he pieced together his 
situation within seconds. He was at that queer party in the flat south of 
Market Street. He was no longer bound to the chair, but was lying in a dark 
corner with some guy. He was curled up on the carpeted floor between the 
guy's legs, his mouth stuffed with the guy's cock, his hands clinging to the 
guy's thigh. Voices came from farther away in the room, voices much drunker 
sounding than the voices he had heard before he'd fallen asleep. 

The guy stroked his long hair, then rubbed a toe up and down Sandy's 
asscrack. "Such a beautiful boy. Come home and spend the night with me, 
won't you?" 

Sandy spit out the cock. It was the big cock, the ten-incher. "I'll think 
about it," Sandy said. 

"Can't ask for more than that, I guess," said the guy. He pulled Sandy up so 
that Sandy had his back to the guy's hairy chest. The guy was sitting up 
against the wall in the corner. They were partially hidden from the others 
by a large leather-upholstered easy chair and by the shadow it cast over 
them. The guy's arms tightened around Sandy, and Sandy felt strangely 
content. The guy's half-hard cock throbbed against Sandy's ass. Sandy 
squirmed, trying to snuggle deeper into the guy's embrace. The guy sighed, 
but said nothing. His breathing was becoming deeper, as if he were falling 
asleep. 

Sandy looked out on the scene in the rest of 

the room. He looked past the chair to which he'd been bound, past the floor 
shackles that had been on his ankles. Only a few guys were still moving. The 
rest of the guys were sprawled on the floor, on chairs, on couches. Glasses 
containing melting ice-cubes and half-filled liquor bottles were everywhere. 
Some of the sprawled-out guys were asleep, some were watching the other guys 
fuck the kid. 

Sandy strained his eyes to make sure that the kid they were fucking was the 
same kid they'd been fucking when Sandy had arrived here-God, how long ago? 
No way of knowing. Yeah, it was the same kid-platinum hair cut pageboy 
style, wispy little body, baby face, six-inch pubescent prick. The kid was 
no taller than five feet. The grown men riding his ass looked like giants. 
Why the kid hadn't been fucked to death by now, Sandy couldn't understand. 
It was incredible. The kid was still begging for more. Sandy thought of that 
guy in Room 305, the kid who lay face-down on his bed all day and night 
trying to entice guys to fuck him. That kid and this kid here ought to get 
together-they had a lot in common. 

The kid was on his hands and knees on the floor now, his shiny little ass 
wiggling incessantly, his back arched and his skinny gut sucked in. While 
the guy mounted on his ass fucked his shithole with ass-grinding thrusts, 
the kid sucked the cock of a guy kneeling in front of him. The rear guy's 
cock made a plooshing, squishing sound in the kid's cum-filled asshole. The 
kid moaned, munching on the other guy's cock. It was an incredible sight, an 
exciting sight, and Sandy couldn't resist grabbing his own throbbing cock 
and masturbating while he watched. 

The young kid reached under his belly and pumped on his own cock while 
servicing the two men. Sandy was astounded that the kid could still be 
horny. He'd seen the kid shoot off several times earlier. 

The guy riding the kid's ass fucked harder and faster, jerking the little 
guy back and forth on his big cock like some little jack-off toy. The guy 
mouth-fucking the kid had the kid by the ears and was jerking the kid's head 
back and forth. Every inch of the guy's big cock was buried in the young 
boy's face, and Sandy wondered whether he wasn't dreaming all this too. The 
scene he was witnessing now seemed almost more incredible than his dream of 
a short time ago in which he'd been sucking the hard cocks of an endless 
line-up of Santa Barbara high-school studs. Sandy pumped his cock faster, 
his eyes following the humping asses of the sweaty men who were fucking the 
little boy from both ends. 

The ass-fucking guy writhed, fucking the kid's shithole. "Mannn, he's a 
tight little fuck! After all that reaming, he's still tight as a fist. Mmm, 
baby!" He fucked the kid's ass. Cum from a dozen guys oozed out around his 
ass-plugging cock and dripped off his hairy balls. "Mmm!" 

"Hot mouth, too," said the other guy. "Cum-hungry little bugger. Come on, 
baby, suck my juicy dick." Spit from the kid's mouth dripped off the guy's 
balls. The kid made moaning sounds. 

The ass-fucking guy arched his back and snapped his head back. Every bit of 
his strength and concentration was directed forward through his big cock. 
Sandy could visualize the guy's stiff cock quivering in the pit of the kid's 
skinny belly. The big guy groaned, twisting his head as he was twisting his 
cock. His sweaty ass jerked rhythmically, his flexing cock just about 
lifting the kid up and down. Sandy thought he could hear the liquid sounds 
of cum spurting into the kid's juicy asshole. 

"Mannn," the big guy moaned. "Mnnnn, I'm coming!" 

The guy in front of the kid gasped a deep inhalation and yanked his cock out 
of the kid's mouth. The kid kept his mouth enormously wide, tongue hanging 
out and dripping as he begged for the guy's cum. The guy pumped his cock, 
squirting his load all over the kid's face. The kid's tongue flapped, trying 
to catch the spurts of cum. The front guy was still shooting off on the 
squirming kid's face when the rear guy uncorked from the kid's wiggling ass 
and crawled over to a couch to collapse on it. 

Sandy was on the verge of blowing his load. There was something perversely 
exciting about watching these sweaty, muscular men work over the skinny 
little kid, especially with the kid enjoying it so much. He wondered what it 
would be like to fuck the kid. He kept thinking about the guy raving about 
how tight the kid's ass was. He thought about all that cum that had been 
shot into the kid's asshole, and he wondered how it would feel to slide his 
cock into a tight little ass that had cum leaking out. His hand jerked up 
and down his cock, working the prickskin against the hard cockshaft. Man, 
he'd love to blow his load. He felt so fucking horny again. 

The front guy fell away from the kid, and the kid was left there on all 
fours, his tight little fist jerking up and down on his young boner just as 
fast as Sandy's was jerking on his own. The queers were quiet now. Most of 
them were sleeping, a couple of them were wrapped around each other and 
making out, and the few remaining guys were lying back and relaxing, 
apparently too exhausted to care anymore about the pretty blond chicken 
wiggling his sexy ass in the air and waiting to be mounted and fucked again. 

Sandy saw his opportunity. He was going to get the kid's ass. He salivated 
as he focused his eyes on the cute wiggling boy-ass across the room. A soft 
light from a ceiling fixture fell on the kid's ass like a spotlight. Sandy 
could see the pinkness of the kid's asspucker, could see the glistening 
whitish cum leaking out. The kid's asspucker twitched, and Sandy's heart 
banged. He trembled as he peeled the sleeping queer's arms from around him. 
Then he crawled across the deep carpeting on all fours, his hot prick 
pecking at his navel. He imagined himself as a canine stud on his way to 
mount the ripe ass of a bitch in heat-only this ripe little mount was not 
bitch, but a horny young stud like himself. 

Possibly three of the queers noticed him crossing the room, but they just 
followed him with their liquor-glazed eyes. They all appeared either too 
drunk or too exhausted to care much about the chicken and the adolescent 
hustler who were getting together at one end of the room. 

The kid watched Sandy crawl over. The boy's green eyes were glazed, as if 
the queers had dumped whiskey down his throat to help warm him up. The 
seductive expression he gave Sandy gave him the appearance of being a 
coquettish young girl. 

"Hey, you're cute," the kid said, slurring his words slightly. "Oooh, and 
you got a big one! You gonna fuck me, my man?" The kid arched his back and 
turned his ass up. His pucker opened up for a moment, presenting Sandy with 
a cum-oozing pink shithole. The pucker closed again like a pair of hot, 
pursed lips. 

Sandy had never seen anything like it. He jerked on his cock while he 
kneeled up behind the kid. He could easily spurt off on the kid's ass if he 
wanted to. He was ready to blow, but he was trying to fight off his close 
orgasm. 

The kid looked at Sandy over his right shoulder, his green eyes almost 
teasing the cum out of Sandy's cock. Sandy released his cock and held his 
breath. His cock throbbed, quivered, standing up in the air as the kid eyed 
it. 

The kid swallowed, licked his lips. "I don't know if I wanna suck it or fuck 
it, my man. You got a nice one. Hey, and you're so cute." 

Sandy let out his breath slowly. The nearly orgasmic sensations that shot 
through his cock lessened in intensity and quickness, congealing into a 
fistlike knot of aching tension in his groin. He was giving himself a case 
of blue balls, but he wanted to enjoy the kid's ass for at least a few 
minutes before he shot his load. 

The kid did something with his loin-muscles again and caused his ass pucker 
to open. Sandy looked straight down into the young kid's asshole. It was 
opened to the size of a quarter and was seething inside with the cum of a 
dozen hot men. The scent of cum and boy-ass rose like fingers of steam, 
Sandy's nostrils flared and he inhaled deeply. He leaned over and pressed 
his nose close to the open asshole, sniffing, peering inside. 

"Lick it," the kid said. "They say my ass tastes like candy." He wiggled his 
tight little ass, turning his asshole up even higher. His asspucker was 
still open. 

Sandy dipped his finger in, then made circles with his finger along the 
edges of the open asspucker. The kid's asshole was unbelievably 

hot. The asspucker-flesh quivered under Sandy's massaging finger. There was 
a pulse-beat in the kid's ass, and steam seemed to rise out of it. 

"Ooh, feels so good," the kid moaned, wiggling his ass in circles. His 
hairless balls dangled between his legs. 

Sandy couldn't resist tasting the kid's ass. Pulling his finger out of the 
kid's ass, Sandy kissed and sucked the kid's hairless, pulsating taint. It 
tasted musky with cum and sweat. Sandy slid his nose along the kid's taint 
and licked the kid's low-hanging pink balls. Then he slid back up and thrust 
his tongue into the young boy's shithole. The boy-ass closed around his 
tongue, sucking. 

"Rim job," the kid gibbered. "Oh, yeah, rim job!" 

Sandy wriggled his tongue in the kid's ass, astounded by the way the 
quivering shithole sucked. The kid's ass didn't taste like candy, despite 
what the kid thought. It tasted like sweat and cum-salty, alkaline. It 
tasted like musky ass. 

Sandy sucked, swallowing the mingled cum of a dozen guys. His prick squirmed 
with tight prickling sensations. He couldn't understand it, but he was 
getting off on sucking the shithole of this young boy. The kid was sexier 
than any girl Sandy had ever been with. The kid was a turn-on. The kid's 
asshole was ripe for fucking. Sandy straightened up, cum dripping from his 
lips, and he mounted the ass- 

wiggling little stud 

"Yeah, shove it in me! Fuck my ass!" 

Sandy's cock disappeared up the kid's ass as easily as a finger into 
cottoncandy. The kid's pucker opened up, musky heat pouring out of the hole, 
and Sandy's glossy prickhead plugged his ass. The kid's asshole sucked then, 
engulfing first Sandy's donghead, then the rest of his cock. Sandy watched 
his long cock slide up the kid's ass, felt the kid's asshole walls grip his 
cock like a hot, greased hand and pull him inside until his belly was 
grinding against the boy's baby-smooth ass. 

The boy groaned, wiggling his butt and twisting his head from side to side. 
"Ohh, my man, my man!" 

Sandy hugged the kid's loins and humped the kid's ass, sliding his cock in 
the boy's seething, sucking asshole. The boy's asshole walls fluttered, 
undulated, gripped rhythmically. No cunt Sandy had ever been inside of could 
compare in cock-sucking deftness with this young boy's asshole. The kid was 
fantastic. Sandy was ready to ask the kid to marry him, and they'd only been 
fucking a few seconds. 

The kid craned his neck and gazed over his left shoulder, flicking his 
tongue across his lips and rolling his pretty green eyes seductively. 
"Kiss," he muttered. "Kiss." 

Sandy fell on him, pressing his front to the kid's back, bracing his hands 
on the floor alongside the kid's hands. They fit together 

perfectly in this hands-and-knees position. The kid was small enough to fit 
comfortably under Sandy. Sandy rubbed his cheek in the kid's silky platinum 
hair. Their lips met, fastened together. The boy's breath was sweet. Tongue 
flicked over tongue. The sensations from their deep kiss went straight to 
Sandy's cock. In and out he fucked his prick, crushing his lower belly 
against the kid's hot ass. Fucking had never been like this before. He 
wondered whether he could ever fuck a cunt again without feeling let down. 

He was looking straight into the kid's estatically rolling eyes. The kid's 
expression was enough to make him lose his load. He stopped humping and just 
clung to the kid, enjoying the feel of his cock throbbing inside the kid's 
pulsating asshole. He inhaled the kid's breath, swallowed his spit, sucking 
at his lips and tongue. I love you, he wanted to say- because that's what he 
was feeling-but he kept the words inside him because he knew they would 
sound ridiculous. He'd only mounted the kid a few minutes ago, not enough 
time to fall crazy in love with somebody. Or was it? Jesus, what a feeling! 

"Hand job," the kid mumbled. 

"What?" 

"Hand job me. We'll come together, my man." 

Keeping himself braced over the kid with his left hand, Sandy groped for the 
kid's stiff cock with his right hand. The boy's cock was amazingly hard, and 
so hot that its warmth penetrated the very bones of Sandy's hand. 

"Mmm, beat it," the kid sighed, his eyes wobbling. He continued to keep his 
head turned to the left so he and Sandy could exchange kisses. Sandy licked 
out the kid's ear. "Mm, my man, fuck me!" His firm little ass rotated. 

This was it. Sandy knew it. They were both going to come now. All was set. 
Sandy had waited long enough. He fucked the kid's ass with his cock, 
smacking his lower belly against the kid's upturned asscheeks. He fucked as 
hard as he could, feeling his cock swell and harden until his prick felt as 
big and stiff as a baseball bat. The little kid grunted, gasped. His teeth 
were clenched. 

"Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!" 

Sandy bit the kid's tender young neck, inhaling the fragrance of the kid's 
soft hair. His hand pumped furiously over the six inches of the boy's 
red-hot prick. The boy-prick squirmed, flexed, grew harder than steel. Sandy 
had the strange impression that he was pumping his own prick, that he was 
jacking himself off instead of the kid. The only thing that destroyed the 
impression was the fact that the kid's prick was skinnier and shorter than 
his own. 

The boy wriggled all over and Sandy had a hard time staying mounted on the 
slippery, sweaty little body underneath him. 

"Ooooh, feels so good! I'm gonna cream, 

my man! Oh, fuck my ass, fuck my ass!" The kid's hot ass churned against 
Sandy's belly, his asshole milking Sandy's cock. His stiff young prick 
vibrated in Sandy's fist. "Here it somes, my man-ooooooh!" 

Sandy brought his left hand up under the kid just in time to catch the first 
hot spurt of the kid's cum. Sandy's cupped palm was overflowing within 
seconds. The kid's cum was hotter than any cum Sandy had ever felt fresh 
from the cock. 

"Ohhhhh, mannnnn, fuck meeee, ohhhh!" The young boy threw his head from side 
to side. His skinny loins jerked. His cock flexed in Sandy's hand, spurting 
repeatedly. 

Sandy pulled his left hand away, letting the kid spurt into the carpet. He 
plastered his left hand to his mouth and devoured the boy's hot cum. Cum ran 
down his chin and neck, rained down on the kid's back. The kid's cum was the 
sweetest, best-tasting food Sandy had ever eaten. He licked at his hand, 
licked between his fingers, then fell forward again and lapped at the kid's 
back. He felt absolutely drunk. His cock fucked in and out of the boy's 
clutching asshole a few last strokes, then exploded a fiery load of cum. 

"Ohhhhh, baaaaby, eeeeeeeh!" Sandy's cries became a whine. He felt his 
eyeballs roll back in their sockets. His entire body was racked with spasms. 
His toes felt almost as good as his cock. "Uhh, uhhh, ohhhhh." He let 
himself groan, let himself thrash. He didn't 

care who heard him. He was feeling too damn good. He held on, pumping all 
his cum into the kid. "Ahhhh!" 

They collapsed together in a heap, Sandy on top of the boy, his cock still 
buried in the kid's ass. He kissed the boy all over the shoulders and neck. 
"I love you. I love you." 

The boy giggled, twisting his platinum head, the boy's eyes were closed an 
ecstatic smile on his lips. As the boy turned his head back, Sandy kissed 
him on the lips. 

"Mmm, my man, the kid said. "My man." 

Sandy couldn't stop from giggling himself. "Marry me," he said. "I'll fuck 
you all day and all night forever." 

"Mmm, okay, my man." 

Sandy couldn't stop from giggling himself. "Marry me," he said. "I'll fuck 
you all day and all night forever." 

"Mmm, okay, my man." 

Sandy felt a hand stroke down his back. 

"Look at these two love-birds," said the queer who had suddenly hunkered 
down beside him. 

"You mean love-chickens," said another queer, who was getting up off the 
nearest couch. 

The first queer trailed his finger up and down Sandy's asscrack. "Chicken 
ass. Nothing tighter than a chicken ass." 

"Bet he's dying for a fuck." 

"Or a fist-fuck." The queer rammed his finger up Sandy's ass. 

Sandy gasped. He twisted away, pulling his cock out of the boy's ass and 
escapng the queer's itchy finger at the same time. "Lay off, will ya?" 

The two queers looked at each other, simpering grins on their faces. They 
both looked at Sandy, their faces remaining unchanged. 

"Come on, baby," the first queer said. "I can tell you're dying for a fuck. 
Ever try a fist up your bum?" He tickled Sandy's outstretched leg. 

Sandy yanked his leg away, backing up on his ass. "You're crazy," he said, 
dragging his deflated cock in the carpet. 

Then the young kid was pawing him. "It's great," the kid said. "I just love 
it. I'll go first. Just watch-he'll stick his hand and half his forearm up 
my shitter." 

"Get the Crisco," said the first queer. 

"They're getting out the Crisco," came a voice from across the room. 

"What?" came a sleepy voice. 

"They're gonna fist-fuck the two chickens." 

"Hey, I wanna do the older one." 

The queers were stirring all over the room, like vampires waking up at 
sunset. One queer was pulling a plastic lid off a can of Crisco. [The young 
kid was up on his hands and knees again, panting like any excited puppy, his 
skinny little ass wiggling. 

Sandy looked around desperately for his pants. He knew he had only seconds 
to escape, if ecsape were at all possible. He couldn't spot his pants 
anywhere around the room, but he knew he'd run out into the street naked if 
he had to. Without another thought, he jumped up and charged out of the 
room. 

"Hey, where's he going?" 

He found himself in a hallway. Rooms led off it on both sides. He ran to the 
end of the hallway and darted into a room. He heard the queers behind him. 

"Where the hell did the little fucker go?" 

"I don't know, but I hope I find him first." 

"Is Roger awake?" 

Sandy was in a bedroom now. Trapped. A dead end. 

He ran to the window. It was open just enough for him to squeeze through, 
but he was three stories up. He ran back to the doorway and pressed himself 
up against the wall just as two queers walked in. The moment they'd stepped 
past him, he slipped along behind them and out into the hall again. 

"Hey, that was him." 

"Jesus Christ!" 

Miraculously, the hall was empty. Sandy ran back down it and plunged blindly 
through a doorway. He was back in the livingroom. 

The blond boy was still up on his hands and knees. Two queers kneeled behind 
him. One queer had his right hand inside the boy's ass and was twisting his 
arm slowly. For a split second Sandy almost laughed with relief. He had to 
be dreaming all this. This just couldn't 

be happening. A guy's whole hand inside a skinny boy's asshole? It just 
couldn't be! Couldn't! 

Arms clamped around Sandy. A big hand covered his mouth. Sandy struggled for 
two seconds, then gave up. He knew that he was done for it. Done for it! 

Liquored breath singed his left ear. "Cool it, sweetheart, and come along 
with me." 

CHAPTER FIVE 

It was the middle of the night and he was following some half-drunk queer 
through dark streets he didn't know. The night air was chilly and now he was 
all goosebumps and shivers as he padded along the cold concrete of cracked 
sidewalks. The wind had kicked up and was driving a cold mist at his bare 
back. His arms were crossed around his skateboard, which he hugged to his 
front as he staggered along after the queer. He'd retrieved his jeans, but 
the money was gone from his pocket. Whatever queer or queers ripped it off 
would probably use it to buy more brandy and wine and Crisco, or use as bait 
to lure some naive young hustler like himself into some sexual lunatic 

asylum like the one from which he'd just escaped. Where he was going now was 
anybody's guess, but he followed along blindly just the same-he felt he owed 
this queer something who had rescued him from a sure fist up the ass. "How 
much farther?" Sandy asked. "A few blocks." The queer reached back and took 
Sandy's left hand. 

Sandy pulled away. "Hey, man, I'm not some little old lady who needs help 
crossing the street." 

"That you're not," the queer said. He grabbed Sandy's hand again, crushing 
it in his grip. "Come on, angel-face, don't be prissy. At this time of night 
nobody's going to notice. Besides, it's not often that I get to walk 
hand-in-hand up my street with a beautiful boy." 

Sandy felt both disgusted and thrilled to hear the guy call him a beautiful 
boy. "Hey, I'm not queer," he blurted. "You know that don't you?" 

The guy squeezed his hand tighter. "Of course, sweetheart. I never suspected 
it for a minute. Now let's get going before we're picked up for loitering." 

The guy's pad was more like ten blocks away than a few. It was an apartment 
in a shabby building halfway up a vertical hill. All the buildings in the 
block were built against each other, as if at one time they had all slid i 
down the hill and had jammed together, one behind the other. The guy's pad 
was a single 

room with a tiny kitchen area and an attached bathroom. A single bed, 
unmade, took up half the room. There were no windows in the place. 

The guy locked the door and switched on two small table lamps, one on each 
side of the bed, and Sandy noticed that the walls were crammed with 
paintings of all sizes, realistic paintings of boys and young men, most of 
them nudes. 

"Like my collection?" the guy had taken off his jacket and was now sliding 
out of his T-shirt. "It's where all my money goes." 

"Sure," Sandy said. "Nice." 

The guy's hairy pecs flexed and bulged as he unbuckled his belt. "Take off 
your jeans, beautiful. Let's not waste any time." 

Reluctantly, Sandy unsnapped and unzipped his jeans. Embarrassed and 
somewhat disgusted with himself, he peeled off his jeans to show the queer 
his gigantic hard-on. After all that had happened earlier, he didn't 
understand how he could still be horny. 

The queer took off his own jeans, pulling off his boots and socks with them. 
He straightened up, hands on his hips. His ten-inch cock throbbed, matching 
Sandy's cock in standing up at a forty-five-degree angle. The queer was all 
muscle. In the close room, Sandy could smell the guy's sweat along with his 
own sweat. He discovered himself enjoying the scent, and that disgusted him 
a little too. 

"Well, what're you gonna do-blow me or what? I gotta get going pretty soon." 
His voice was high-pitched. Why was he so nervous? 

The guy stepped forward and placed his huge hands on Sandy's cheeks. The 
tips of their pricks touched and an electric thrill shot through Sandy's 
cock. Sandy started to pull away, but the guy tightened his hands on Sandy's 
cheeks. Sandy stared up into the guy's eyes, vaguely wondering whether the 
guy was trying to hypnotize him. 

"I was hoping you'd spend the night with me." The guy's thumbs rotated 
gently against Sandy's temples. 

Sandy thought he would melt into the guy's arms. The guy was putting him 
into a trance of some kind. "Can't," Sandy mumbled. 

"Why not?" 

They were belly to belly now, their cocks pressed together and throbbing. 
The guy's hot toes stepped on Sandy's cold toes. The smell of sweat, of cock 
and balls, curled up around them like a warm steam. 

"Can't," Sandy mumbled, aware of his eyes closing. "Gotta go home." But he 
really didn't want to leave. 

"Where's home?" The guy's spongy lips brushed Sandy's forehead, nipped his 
nose. 

"I-" Sandy started to say, but there was no sentence ready to follow. He 
didn't know what he was going to say, didn't know how to answer the guy's 
question. Where was home? not Santa Barbara. Not that queer hotel. 

"You'll spend the night," the guy said, and his huge lips closed over 
Sandy's mouth. 

Sandy collapsed into the guy's arms. The guy's tongue was down his throat. 
The guy was sucking the breath out of him. Sandy moaned, letting the guy 
pick him up and put him on the bed. The heavy man-body, all bone and muscle, 
crushed down on him, burying him in the saggy mattress, smothering him in 
hairy, sweaty flesh. Sandy's arms went around the man's huge ribcage. Kiss 
me, eat me, make love to me were the words floating through Sandy's mind. 
And he wanted to mutter, I love you, to this man who had rescued him and was 
now seducing him. But that would sound crazy -he didn't even know the guy's 
name. 

"What's your name?" Sandy whispered. 

"Huh?" 

"Your name. What's your name?" 

"Uh-Mike. Mike." He petted Sandy's forehead, smiling down at him. 

They moved together, humping, sliding their cocks between their sweaty 
bellies. The bedsprings cried out under even the subtlest of their 
movements. 

"I'm Sandy." 

"Nice name. Real nice name." The guy thrust his tongue down Sandy's throat, 
and Sandy lay there enjoying the feeling. 

Take me, Sandy thought. Take all of me. I'm yours, Mike. 

Mike reached over, feeling around on the floor alongside the bed with his 
right hand. 

"Looking for something?" Sandy asked. 

"Found it." Mike lifted up slightly and got 

his hand between them and between Sandy's legs. Sandy jerked as something 
cold and wet was slapped under his balls, then was worked up into his 
asscrack. 

"Hey, Mike, what-" 

"Relax, baby, just relax." 

"But-" 

"Shh!" Mike's hand slid and twisted between Sandy's asscheeks. The wet, 
slippery stuff was warming up, was starting to feel good between Sandy's 
asscheeks. 

"I love you, Mike. I love you." 

"Shh! Just relax, little man." 

Sandy gasped as Mike's greased finger slid up his asshole. "Oh, Mike, 
Jesus!" 

"Take it easy, baby." Mike's finger twisted, fucking in and out. 

Sandy was panting. Mike jabbed his prostate gland, and Sandy thought for a 
second that he was going to shoot. The hot feeling went right through his 
cock. "Christ!" 

Mile slipped his finger out. Sandy settled back against the mattress, 
relieved that Mike had stopped reaming his asshole, but at the same time 
slightly disappointed. It made him nervous to have a finger up his ass, but 
it felt good in a way, even if it was in a queer way. Getting finger-fucked 
was only one step away from getting ass-fucked by a cock, and what could be 
more queer than that? Sandy was glad Mike had stopped. 

Mike was reaching over the right side of the bed again. Sandy squirmed under 
him, trying to snuggle down deeper against the mattress. He wished Mike 
could cover every inch of him, wished Mike could hide him from the cold and 
the meanness of the world outside. Mike had rescued him. He loved Mike, 
wished he could dissolve into Mike's big muscular body. He'd never have to 
worry bout anything again. 

Mike lifted up again, getting his arm between them and moving it 
rhythmically. Mike was beating his cock jerking his prick off with some kind 
of lubricant, the same stuff he'd used to finger-fuck Sandy's ass. Sandy 
heard the squish, squish, squish of Mike's hand on his cock and it turned 
Sandy on. He reached down and grabbed Mike's cock. 

"Let me do it, Mike." 

"Sure, baby, sure." 

Mike's cock was all greasy and slippery. Sandy had a hard time holding on. 
He couldn't close his hand around the ten-inch prick, and the big cock 
jumped around like a fish out of water. Sandy jerked his hand up and down, 
feeling the thick cock-veins ripple under his palm. He twisted his hand 
around and around the cockhead. Mike's prick was as hot as that little kid's 
cock had been at the drunken party. Sandy wondered whether that kid was 
still taking fists up his ass at this moment. 

"Mike?" 

Mike grabbed Sandy's cock with a huge greasy hand. "What, angel?" He 
masturbated Sandy's dong with long, firm strokes. 

Sandy sighed, aware of his heart banging his breastbone. "That kid at 
Roger's house-how can he take a hand up his asshole like that?" 

Mike chuckled, beating Sandy's cock to the same rhythm as Sandy was beating 
his. "He's got a real elastic asshole, I imagine." 

"But a whole fist? An arm?" 

"He could probably take a foot and a leg if he had to. The kid's a little 
slut. Was probably born with a cock up his ass, or else he was 
finger-fucking his shitter while he was still in the crib. Christ, he's been 
the hit of orgy parties for years now. He's like a junkie, only his form of 
junk is whatever he can get somebody to shove up his shitter. Gorgeous boy, 
thought. You'd think he'd be all burnt out by now." 

The sound of Mike's voice was lulling Sandy toward sleep. He yawned. "Let's 
blow our loads, Mike, and then let's sleep. Sleep on top of me, just like 
this." With his free hand, he hugged Mike to him until they were pressed 
hard together, their arms trapped between them, their cocks clutched in each 
other's fist. Their lips met, and Sandy moaned as Mike once again sucked the 
breath out of him. "Cream on me, Mike. Shoot your cum all over my stomach." 

Mike sighed. "Baby, you're too much. Jesus if Bert could only see me now." 
He let go of Sandy's cock and slid down until his greased cock was sliding 
between Sandy's legs and was nuzzling under Sandy's balls. 

"Who's Bert?" 

"My ex-lover, a hopeless chicken hawk. If he'd ever run into you, he'd lose 
his load three times before he even got his pants off. Christ, he'd stab me 
in the back out of pure jealousy if he saw me riding you right now." 

Sandy hugged Mike tighter. He had let go of Mike's cock and now had both 
arms around the man. He humped at Mike's stomach. "Let's cream, Mike. Let's 
cream just like this. I can come any time." His prick had swelled to the 
size of an arm between them, and the prickskin was ready to peel off. "Come 
on, Mike, let's get off our rocks together." 

"Ah, youth!" Mike said. "Impatient. Insatiable." He raised up, hooking his 
arms under Sandy's legs and pushing them up toward Sandy's chest. 

Sandy's legs bent at the knees, hooking over Mike's wide shoulders, and 
suddenly Sandy's thighs were crushed to his own shoulders. Sandy's ass 
lifted up in the air, and Mike's cockhead pecked up and down Sandy's 
ass-crack. 

It happened so fast that Sandy wasn't sure what was happening. His first 
reaction was to giggle. Mike's hot prickhead kissed Sandy's asspucker and 
Sandy felt a strange throbbing ache shoot through the heart of his loins. 
Mike's teeth sank into the side of Sandy's neck. Mike's cockhead twisted and 
pushed hard against Sandy's asspucker. 

"Mike, nooo!" Jesus, this couldn't be 

happening. Sandy pounded Mike's back with his fists. "Mike, stop, stop!" 

Mike's prickhead sank into Sandy's ass. 

Sandy felt fire in his asspucker. His asshole was being torn wide open. He 
was gasping, hot tears running down his cheeks. "Oh, Mike, Mike, Mike, oh 
Jesus, oh please!" he breathed the words more than cried them. 

Mike's entire cock sank into him-all ten thick, hard inches. Sandy felt 
Mike's dickhead throbbing like a hot heart somewhere in the center of his 
belly. He felt an enormous pressure in his loins, as if his body were going 
to split in two. The pressure seemed to extend throughout his body. His toes 
felt bloated, the skin on them stretched tight and tingling. He felt 
pressure in his stomach, and he expected Mike's cock to come up his throat 
and out his mouth at any moment. He was filled with cock. It was as if he'd 
become a cock-Mike's cock-as if he were a five-foot-seven-inch, 
one-hundred-thirty-pound cock growing out of Mike's muscular loins. He 
clamped his eyes shut, held his breath, dug his fingernails into Mike's 
back. 

Make lapped at Sandy's face like a German shepherd. "Hot little stud ass!" 
he muttered. "Tight little butch stud!" He began to hump slowly. His cock 
withdrew an inch, then fucked in an inch. 

Sandy groaned. His insides were going to explode. He rubbed the soles of his 
feet against Mike's stubbly cheeks, dug his toenails into Mike's temples. 

Mike turned his head, licked Sandy's left foot. He pulled his cock back two 
inches, then eased back in to the hilt. 

"You're killing me!" Sandy gasped. "Oh, Mike, please stop!" 

Mike turned his head to the other side, gnawing at Sandy's right foot. His 
cock eased out three inches, then fucked back in, out four inches, then 
fucked back in. Suddenly half his cock was fucking in and out of Sandy's 
ass. 

Sandys ass bucked up and down spontaneously, his asshole clutching furiously 
at the man's huge cock. His asshole was aching, throbbing, on fire. His 
balls had ballooned, and they ached. Sandy twisted his head from side to 
side, moaning loudly, biting at the folds of pillow on either side of his 
head. The bedsprings shrieked under him as if they too could somehow feel 
his agony. 

Mike had Sandy's right big toe in his mouth, then half the toes of Sandy's 
right foot. The man's teeth were electric, his hips and tongue searing. 
Fingers of sensation wriggled down the core of Sandy's right leg and shot 
through his cock. Sandy's hand went to his cock, and he began pumping it as 
best he could with his hand crushed between their bellies. 

Miraculously, the unbearable pain in his asshole vanished the moment he 
touched his cock. He felt numb in the ass for a moment, then began to 
experience a strange sort of pleasrue that saturated his loins and pulsated 
to the rhythm of Mike's fucking. 

Mike's cock was fucking in and out ten inches at a time now, sliding easily 
in Sandy's greased asshole. The big man pushed up, bracing his hands on the 
mattress alongside Sandy's shoulders. He was bridged over Sandy in a pushup 
position now, his shoulders still hooked under Sand's knees but his weight 
off Sandy. His cock fucked in and out of Sandy's asshole, and he continued 
to bite and suck at Sandy's feet and toes, twisting his head first to one 
side, then to the other. 

"Man, this is fucking!" he muttered, licking wildly at Sandy's toes. "Hot 
chicken! Jesus, what an ass!" 

Sandy felt as much fascination at watching the man fuck him as he did 
pleasure from the fucking itself. All the muscles of the man's torso stood 
out clean and hard-the square pectorals, the armorlike ridges of abdominal 
muscle. Sweat glistened on the man's black chest-hair. Sweat trickled from 
his hairy armpits, rippling down in streams over his thick rubs and muscles. 
Bulging veins pulsed on the man's thrusting lower abdomen. Sandy could see 
the endlessly long cock with its thick central vein fucking in and out of 
his asshole. It was a beautiful sight and so fucking exciting! 

Sandy eased his cock-beating. He was ready to shoot gallons of cum on 
himself, but he didn't want to do that yet. He wanted to revel in these new 
sensations for as long as he possibly could. He gripped his cock at the 
base, watching its eight inches throb, watching the veins nearly explode out 
from under the tight-stretched cockskin, watching the cockhead swell and the 
piss-slit gape. The fuck-lube bubbled out, rolling down the cockhead, oozing 
down the prickshaft. Sandy licked his lips, wishing he was flexible enough 
to lean forward and to taste his own cock. He envied the guys who had sucked 
his cock. His prick was a big sexy beauty. 

Mike bore down, fucking harder and faster. His hard loins slammed Sandy's 
ass. His prick-head pounded the pit of Sandy's asshole. The huge cock fucked 
in and out, gleaming with grease, flushed with blood. Sandy put his left 
hand on Mike's lean hip, guiding the man in his fucking. Sandy felt vaguely 
afraid that the man's savage fucking would rip him up inside. He had a vague 
impression that the man was going to fuck him to death, or at least that he 
would end up in the hospital. But at the same time that he felt these 
misgivings, he also felt a strange, almost self-destructive desire. He 
wished the man would fuck him harder, wished the man's cock was a foot long 
instead of ten inches. 

"Fuck me!" he grunted, thrashing his head from side to side. "Fuck me, Mike, 
oh God, fuck me!" The sensations in his loins had become so intense that he 
could no longer decide whether to label them pleasure or pain. Maybe they 
were both pleasure and pain, or 

maybe the pleasure had become so intense that it had become pain, or the 
pain so intense that his nerves could no longer distinguish one from the 
other. "Oh Jesus, Mike, fuck me, screw me, ohhh mannnn!" 

He pumped his cock again, his loins filled with aching, fiery pulsations 
that had him biting his lips to prevent himself from screaming like a girl. 
His prick grew in his hand, became harder than steel. His prickhead appeared 
to throb like a flashing beacon. He bucked up and down, writhing under his 
man-lover, twisting his head in mad circles, arching his back. Above him, 
Mike was snapping his head from side to side. Sweat pelted Sandy like hot 
rain. The smell of man saturated Sandy's head. 

"I'm gonna come! Oh Mike, I'm gonna come!" It felt as if a gigantic hot 
spring were uncoiling in Sandy's loins. Smaller springs uncoiled in his 
swollen balls. Searing spears of cum shot through the core of his cock. 
"Ahhhhhhh! Awwwwwww!" 

Heavy splats of hot cum slapped down on Sandy's face. Cum splatted on his 
neck, on his :hest, on his belly. Hot flashes and chills swept through his 
body simultaneously. He felt like a gigntic quivering cock. His loins felt 
as if they were exploding inside. 

Mike grunted, gasped. "Oh shit, oh Christ, what an ass, what a chicken! Oh 
God, shit, fuck!" His body stiffened. His eyes rolled back. He arched his 
spine and fucked his cock into Sandy as if trying to ram his snakelike 
monster cock up Sandy's throat and out his gaping mouth. His muscular loins 
slammed Sandy's jerking ass. His sizzling cum exploded up Sandy's 
contracting shithole. "Ahhhhhh!" 

Shoot it, Mike, oh God, shoot it, blast me!" Sandy jerked with the 
explosions of the man's cum into his body. The streams of man-cum splashed 
against the rubbery walls of his asshole. Sandy felt the heat of the man's 
loins filling him. Mike pumped a round of cum into him, and Sandy responded 
by pumping another load of cum onto his own chest. It was as if Mike's cum 
was shooting up Sandy's asshole and then streaming through Sandy's cocks to 
spurt out onto Sandy's chest. Sandy was bathing himself in cum. The hot, 
sticky fuck fluid was trickling down his flanks, was running down into his 
armpits. He lapped at the cum he'd shot on his lips and cheeks, savoring the 
sweet alkaline taste and aroma. 

Sandy stopped shooting first, and a few seconds later Mike fired his last 
spurt up Sandy's ass. Their pricks throbbed in unison as the last thrills of 
orgasm gnawed through their cocks and the last thick drops of cum oozed from 
their piss-slits. Mike hauled his softening cock out of Sandy's asshole, 
milking his prick in his muscular hand. He caught some thick cum on his 
fingers, then shoved his arm forward and offered it to Sandy. Sandy sucked 
off the rich man-cum greedily. As he lowered his aching legs to the 
mattress, he felt warm cum trickling out of his asshole, and he wished he 
were supple enough to roll himself into a ball so he could suck Mike's cum 
out of himself. 

"Jesus Christ, what a load you shot!" Mike said. He crouched over Sandy like 
a panther and lapped the cum off Sandy's flesh. His big wet tongue covered 
almost every inch of Sandy's torso before he was finished. He licked down 
into Sandy's navel, then up and down Sandy's flanks. He sucked the cum off 
Sandy's brown nipples, munched on Sandy's neck, licked off Sandy's face. His 
large mouth covered Sandy's mouth and Sandy groaned as Mike's huge tongue 
sank down into his throat. Mike settled down on him then, smothering him, 
burying him in the mattress. The mattress seemed to swell up all around 
Sandy. The springs creaked under him, almost a purring sound now compared to 
the violent shrieking they'd made during Mike's fucking of his ass. 

Mike reached off the right side of the bed and hauled a thick blanket up to 
cover them with. After a minute of struggle, Mike managed to drape the 
blanket over his back and to seal himself and Sandy in. 

Sandy had never felt so warm, so secure, in his life. "I love you, Mike." 

"Sure, kid," Mike said. He kissed Sandy, breaking off the kiss long before 
Sandy was ready, then buried his face in the side of Sandy's neck. His 
breathing became deeper, and he was asleep in seconds. 

Sandy lay awake under him, feeling Mike's softened cock between his thighs, 
feeling his own cock hard and throbbing between their abdomens. He began to 
sweat from the heat of Mike and the blanket covering him, but he didn't 
care. He listened to Mike's breathing, felt Mike's heart thudding, felt 
Mike's pulse in several places against his body. He inhaled the scent of the 
man, sighed, then sighed again. Although he didn't want to fall asleep for 
awhile yet, he was soon dreaming. 

CHAPTER SIX 

Mike was shaking him awake. Strangely, he knew exactly where he was when he 
woke up. He rubbed his eyes, watching Mike come into focus above him. Mike 
was standing alongside the bed, dressed in jeans, boots, and flannel shirt. 
The reflection of a single lamp glinted off the large metal buckle of Mike's 
belt. The room was dim and cozy. 

"Time to get up kid. I gotta go to work." 

"Work? It's the middle of the night." Sandy stretched under the blanket, 
then closed his eyes. All he wanted to do was to go back to sleep. 

Mike pulled the blanket off him. A blanket of cold air replaced it, and 
Sandy was instantly 

shivering. 

"Hey, Mike, what's the idea?" Sandy sat up, bedsprings whining, and hugged 
himself. 

"You've gotta go, kid. It's after seven. I gotta be to work by eight." He 
handed Sandy his jeans. 

Sandy looked around confusedly for a few moments, then took the jeans. He 
remembered then that there were no windows in this cubicle of an apartment. 
It would be like midnight in here at noon. He stood up and pulled on his 
jeans, nearly losing his balance in the process. His head felt fuzzy, his 
eyes heavy and scratchy. He wondered how long he d slept. It seemed like 
only minutes. He zipped up his pants, fighting the zipper as usual because 
his cock was hard. He had to piss badly. 

Mike shoved the skateboard at him. "Okay, buck, let's go. The foreman's a 
bitch about anybody being late." He picked up a yellow hardhat from the top 
of his dresser. It was the first time Sandy had noticed the hat. 

"You a construction guy, Mike?" 

"Yeah. Now let's go." He pushed Sandy toward the door. 

Out on the street Sandy had no idea where he was. 

"Well, I'll see ya, buck," Mike said, flashing a quick smile. Then he turned 
and strode off down the sidewalk. 

Stunned, Sandy watched him for a few moments, then dropped his board, hopped 
on, and took off after the big man. His heart was pounding. Mike was a 
different person this morning. Sandy felt as if he were chasing a stranger. 
He hopped off his board. 

"Hey, Mike," Sandy said timidly. "Where you going?" 

Mike glanced at him, continuing his fast walk. "I told you-to work. What's 
the matter, don't you believe me?" 

Sandy snatched up his board and trotted along beside the man. "Sure I 
believe you. I just mean-" He knew what he meant, but he didn't know how to 
say it. 

Mike slowed down and pulled out his wallet. He pulled out a ten and shoved 
it at Sandy. "It's all I got, kid. I'd have to go to the bank for more, and 
I don't have the time right now. Besides, the bank's not open at this hour." 

Sandy eyed the money, but didn't take it. He didn't want it. What he wanted 
was for Mike to take hold of his hand like he had last night on the way to 
Mike's apartment. 

"Look, kid, I'm sorry, but it's ten or nothing. I didn't go to that party 
last night with the idea of picking up trade. Know what I mean? You should 
have settled the money situation with Roger before you ever left your street 
corner." 

Sandy felt a fist in his throat. What could he say? "They robbed me," he 
mumbled. "Took everything I had in my pocket." 

"That's the breaks, kid. You oughta know that, being in this business of 
yours." He glanced at Sandy again, then glanced quickly 

away. "Look, I'm not the one who ripped you off. I'm the one who rescued 
your ass, remember? You woulda had a dozen fists up your shitter last night 
if I hadn't got you out of there. Remember that." 

"Sure," Sandy mumbled. "Thanks." 

"Shit, I'm gonna miss my bus. Gotta get goin', kid. Here, damn it, take it." 
He shoved the ten into Sandy's hand, then took off at a trot down the hill, 
his heavy boots clopping on the sidewalk, his shiny yellow hardhat hugged 
under his left arm and reflecting the morning sunshine. 

Sandy sat down on the sidewalk, hugging his skateboard. The ten-dollar bill 
lay next to him. He was aware of a cool breeze bristling the blond hairs of 
his armpits. He looked up, noticing the perfect deep blue of the morning 
sky. He heard the thudding of Mike's boots becoming softer and softer, but 
he didn't dare look down the hill to watch the man disappear. The fist in 
his throat would choke him if he did that. After a while he got up and 
shoved the ten into his right front pocket. He tried not to think about 
Mike. Instead, he concentrated all his mind on figuring out where exactly in 
this city by the bay he was standing now, abandoned like Mike's crumpled 
ten. 

* * * 

His room had been ransacked. They'd overturned his mattress, had pulled down 
the 

shade, had ripped all the drawers out of the single dresser that furnished 
the room. They must have picked the lock, because there were no signs of 
forced entry. They'd found his money-all his earnings from letting dozens of 
queer men slobber over him. They'd ripped off his T-shirt and his denim 
jacket and his worn sandals. 

He stood in the room, the door open behind him, looking down at the rubble. 
The stained pillow in whose case he'd hidden the wad of bills now rested on 
the bare springs of the bed. Feathers stuck out of all four corners of the 
pillow. Sandy thought that his brain must be made of feathers for him to 
have hidden the bills in so obvious a place as his pillowcase. They'd most 
likely taken the case with them, stuffing it with his jacket, his T-shirt, 
his sandals, and all his money. They could have at least left the 
pillowcase, he thought. Now he'd have to rest his head on a pillow crusty 
with cum stains and with feathers spurting out its four corners. 

He wrestled the mattress back onto the bed, then shoved the bed over to the 
window so he could climb on it and re-hang the yellowed shade. The shade 
looked as if it were decorated with piss stains. He rammed the empty dresser 
drawers back in, noting grains of sand and wads of lint in all of them. He 
slammed shut the door, locked it, rechecked the lock, then peeled off his 
pants and fell on the bed. He used his jeans for a pillow, listening to 
Mike's crisp ten crumpled in their pocket as he settled his head down. 

He thought about getting up and shoving the dresser against the door, just 
to be on the safe side. He thought about picking up his skateboard and 
sleeping with it between his legs. He imagined himself waking up with 
nothing left but his cock and balls-if they din't rip off those too. He 
envisioned his naked body lying curled up on the bare mattress while 
faceless, nameless thieves made off down the hall with his jeans, his 
skateboard, and, in a small paper bag, his prick and balls. 

Shoulda stayed up on that hill, he thought. Just looking up at the sky and 
not thinking. Now he had real troubles. He had to score tonight or he 
wouldn't even have a place to sleep anymore. His rent was paid up only 
through tomorrow noon. The sudden fear hit him that maybe nobody would want 
to buy his body tonight, or that nobody would come up with the promised 
cash. He had ten bucks left, but he needed food, and this fucking skid-row 
room was twelve bucks a day. He curled up tighter, shoving his hands down 
between his knees. He heard shouting in the street outside. San Francisco 
was becoming more awake by the minute. He closed his eyes and fell into a 
deep sleep. 

He woke up with shafts of sunshine sneaking in under the windowshade. He 
guessed that it was late afternoon again. His prick was stiff as a bone and 
his bladder was near rupturing. 

He rolled over and sat up to pull his jeans on. Sweat dripped off his nose. 
It was a sweltering day outside, the hottest one yet, he guessed. He stood 
up, forcing his dick into his jeans and zipping up, then checked his pocket 
for the ten and his room key. 

As he locked the door behind him, standing out in the dim hallway, he 
thought about how absurd it was to turn this key in this lock. They'd get in 
if they wanted to, even if there were ten locks on the door. 

He enjoyed a long, peaceful, private piss in the John at the end of the 
hall. No tall queer licking his toes and begging for his piss this 
afternoon. After milking the piss out of his cock, he felt the urge to shit. 

He couldn't believe that the toilet stalls were empty. He enjoyed a 
leisurely shit, peeking through the hole in the stall wall and smiling 
because the other stall was empty. No queer sticking his prick through the 
hole or smacking lips on the other side and begging for a cock to suck. The 
walls of these stalls were covered with queer graffiti and obscene drawings. 
And they were crusted with the dried cum of hundreds, maybe thousands, of 
men and boys. Queers seemed to get off on blowing their loads against toilet 
walls like dogs got off pissing on fire hydrants. For a moment, Sandy toyed 
with the idea of adding his own contribution to the walls, in the form of a 
thick, gummy load, but then he remembered that in a business like his, he 
couldn't afford to waste his cum, especially on a day like this. He needed 
to score in a big way tonight. 

He left the stall, the toilet flushing behind him, then stepped into the 
drying off area of the small shower room. He peered into the shower cubicle, 
expecting a hand to suddenly reach out and yank him inside. He couldn't 
believe it-nothing inside but two leaking shower-heads and a dim lightbulb 
casting an orangish glow in the tiny room. His luck seemed to be changing. 

Almost giddy from the chance to enjoy a private shower, he danced out of his 
jeans, tossed them over a towel peg in the drying off area, and stepped 
around the corner into the shower cubicle. He turned on both showers full 
blast and as hot as he could stand. He stepped under them, sighing and 
chuckling as the hot water gushed over him. 

He spent ten, maybe fifteen minutes letting the hot water cleanse his skin 
and relax his muscles. His prick remained stiff as a bone and, as he soaped 
it, he brought himself to the edge of orgasm several times. He would have 
stayed in the shower longer, but he didn't trust his right hand anymore. He 
had to save that load. 

He stood dripping in the drying-off area, wishing he had a towel, then 
grabbed his jeans off the peg and used them to towel off his head. His room 
key fell out of his left pocket and clinked on the concrete. It came to a 
stop inches from the gaping black hole that served 

as a drain. Sandy snatched it up and stuffed it back in his pocket-the right 
pocket this time, the pocket with the ten-dollar bill in it, his food money, 
his survival money. The ten was gone. 

Sandy searched the floor. Nothing. He ran out into the restroom, checked the 
entire floor, peered into the urinal he'd pissed in. Nothing. He checked the 
toilet stall, checked the toilet. Nothing. 

"Goddamn it!" he shouted. "Goddamn it!" He couldn't take anymore of this 
shit. "Goddamn it!" 

Still dripping from his shower, his jeans clutched in his left hand, he 
banged open the restroom door and charged out into the all. Nobody in sight. 
The hall almost dark. All those usually open doors sealed up tight this 
afternoon. 

Where were all the fucking queers? There seemed to be a conspiracy against 
him. They were a gang of thieves-and now they were all hiding. Only one door 
was open, far down the hall near his own room, where artificial light was 
falling in a rectangle on the hallway floor in front of it. Sandy went for 
the light. 

The room was number 305 and that itchy-assed young kid was lying face-down 
on his mattress as usual. His head was resting on his arms, his face turned 
toward the door and his eyes closed as Sandy bolted into the room. 

The kid's ass wiggled simultaneously with the opening of his eyes. His 
drunkish gaze fell 

immediately on Sandy's erect, wagging cock, and the kid arched his back, 
shoving his naked ass high in the air. The kid's own cock protruded from 
under his hip like a purple-headed snake. His cock was larger than Sandy had 
imagined. 

Sandy was speechless for a few seconds at the realization that he had 
finally entered the kid's room. He felt both fascinated and uneasy. It was 
like having entered the lair of a black widow spider. After a few moments, 
however, his anger reasserted itself. 

"You took it, didn't you?" 

The kid's face went from a leer to a frown to a leer, all in a fraction of a 
second. His eyelashes fluttered almost imperceptibly. "No, I didn't take it, 
but I will, if you give it to me." He reached back with both hands and 
tugged apart his grapefruit-sized asscheeks. 

"You faggot whore!" Sandy lunged at him, grabbed him by the hair and yanked 
his head up. "Where's my ten?" 

The kid's blue eyes rolled as if he were in ecstasy. "Right there between 
your legs, stud." The kid gasped out the words. 

Dangling the kid's head by the hair with his left hand, Sandy let his right 
hand slam across the kid's face. A trickle of blood appeared instantly from 
the right corner of the kid's mouth. 

Oh Jesus, Sandy thought, what have I done? For a moment he wanted to cradle 
the kid's head in his arms, kiss the kid's face and tell the kid he was 
sorry, but the kid didn't give him a chance. 

"What a man! What a stud!" The kid's eyes wobbled and he groped for Sandy's 
cock. His fingernails managed to trail electrically under Sandy's tight, 
wrinkled ball sac before Sandy could avoid them. 

Sandy dropped the kid's head. "Fucking queer, keep your claws off me!" 

The kid grinned, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth and making him 
resemble a teenage vampire. "Don't be afraid, angel. I won't hurt you. Don't 
be afraid to take what you want." 

"I'm not afraid of anything, and all I want is my ten." 

The kid shoved his ass up high and tugged apart his asscheeks again. His 
slightly open asspucker was inflamed and twitching. A slow trickle of cum 
leaked out, dribbling down over the kid's hairless ass and balls. 

Sandy found his cock throbbing for the kid's ass. A zillion hot prickles 
swirled through the length of his splitting-hard boner. His balls squirmed 
in their tight sac. 

"What's the matter, not man enough?" the kid crooned. "Afraid this little 
fag will suck your nuts off or something?" He flicked his tongue at the 
corner of his mouth, licking off the blood. 

Sandy swallowed, took a deep breath. "Look, all I want is my ten back. 
Somebody ripped off my ten. It was all I had left." 

"Poor baby," the kid said, shaking his head from side to side and making a 
babyish face. "Somebody stole his candy money." 

"Bastard!" Sandy said. "Dirty little bastard!" 

"Poor baby. Somebody took his candy money." 

Sandy jumped on him. He knew it was exactly what the kid wanted, but that 
didn't matter. What mattered was for Sandy to blow off his anger, to blow 
off his lust, before they blew his skull open. He trembled as he drove his 
cock into the kid's seething asshole, trembled as if he had some kind of 
nervous disease. 

"Ohhh, wowwww!" the kid moaned. "You delicious buck! Give it to me! Oh God, 
give it to me!" 

Sandy wrapped his arms around the kid's heaving ribcage, gnawed into the 
kid's neck. The kid arched up, twisting his head, groaning. Sandy fucked his 
cock in and out of the kid's shithole, smacked his belly as hard as he could 
at the kid's rotating ass. 

"Oh, baby, fuck me! On, baby, ream my guts out!" The kid sounded delirious. 
He continued to arch up against Sandy like a cobra, continued to toss and 
twist his head. 

The metal legs of the bed screeched on the wood floor as the bed inched back 
and forth and from side to side. Sandy let himself go, put all his rage, all 
his lust into fucking the boy. 

The boy was somewhere around his own 

age, maybe a year younger. Sandy wondered how long he'd been lying on this 
bed, how long he'd been devoting his life to satisfying his voracious 
asshole. He wondered what would drive a boy to such an obsession. It was as 
if getting fucked were a drug to which the kid was hopelessly addicted. The 
kid at the party last night was like this too, but that kid had been even 
younger, and that kid was addicted not only to fucking cock, but to fucking 
fists as well. It was crazy. Sandy couldn't understand it. He fucked the 
kid, punishing him for his inscrutability. 

"Oh, man, fuck me, screw me, oh do it, do it!" 

Sandy pounded the kid, fucked the kid's asshole mercilessly with his 
eight-inch cock. He got cruel. The kid's asshole was boiling inside. The 
kid's asshole wall manipulated Sandy's cock like fingers. Sandy's cock felt 
as if the shaft would split down the middle. 

"Oh, wowww, ohhh mannnn!" Sandy vocalized his own feelings now. He could 
still sense that the door to the kid's room was open and that anybody could 
walk past or come in- anybody could see him and hear him if they wanted 
to-but he really didn't care right now. All he cared about was fucking this 
young boy as hard as he could for as long as he could before he lost his 
load. 

Strangely, as horny as he was he was nowhere near to cumming. He sensed that 
he could hold off for as long as he wanted to, 

fucking until the kid cried uncle, if that were possible. There was more 
behind his fucking right now than lust. There was anger, there was hatred. 
He realized that he was using the kid's ass like a punching bag to vent his 
anger and hatred for whoever had ripped off his money and his sandals, for 
whoever had violated the privacy of his room, the only home he had right 
now. 

"Fuck you, you faggot whore! Fuck you, fuck you!" He ground his teeth as he 
fucked savagely in and out of the kid's asshole. 

"Ohhhh God, you're killing me, baby, you're whipping up my ass! Get cruel! 
Ohhh Jesus, ohh man!" The kid squirmed in Sandy's arms, slippery with sweat 
and from the wetness of Sandy's body. 

Sandy could feel the kid's heart banging under his arms. The kid's supple 
ribcage heaved like a high-speed bellows. Sandy hugged the kid tighter, 
suddenly thrilled by the awareness that he was cradling a living, breathing, 
warm human being, a kid like himself despite the kid's strangeness. He 
twisted his tongue into the kid's ear, listened with pleasure to the kid's 
responding moan. The kid wasn't all that bad, really. And his ass was so 
hot. 

"I love you," Sandy whispered, surprised, almost shocked by his words. 
They'd come out of nowhere, had shot out of some secret recess of his mind. 
They were an expression of pure lust. 

"Oh, me too," the kid gasped, writhing deliriously. "Mmm, I love you." He 
twisted his head to the side, and suddenly they were kissing. 

The kisses went straight to Sandy's cock. The slightly numb, all-powerful 
feeling left Sandy's cock. The sense that he could go on fucking forever, 
that his cock was a blunt wooden fuck-machine disappeared. The kid's ass was 
going to suck the cum out of him, and there was nothing Sandy could do to 
prevent it. It was the kid's hot kisses that were making him helpless. All 
he wanted to do now was cum. He'd shoot his hot fuck fluid up the kid's ass 
and the two of them would melt together in ecstasy. 

"I love you," Sandy muttered, lapping at the kid's neck, nipping the kid's 
warm flesh with his teeth. "I'm gonna cum up your ass." 

"Ohh man, you're too much!" the kid moaned. "Where did you come from, you 
angel?" 

Sandy crushed the kid in his arms, fucking with quicker, shorter, tighter 
strokes of his cock. The kid's ass responded by gripping his cock tighter, 
by manipulating Sandy's cock-skin more deftly. Sandy could have sworn the 
kid's asshole was equipped with lips and a tongue. The tight little shithole 
seemed to know exactly how to stimulate the most sensitive parts of Sandy's 
cock. 

Sandy marveled that this was the same shithole he'd seen open and slack on 
more than one occasion when he walked past the kid's room. This was the same 
shithole that had appeared torpedoed and destroyed, permanently reamed out. 
And now here it was just about popping his prick out of its skin. The kid 
had perfect control of himself, responding to a sliding cock like a baby's 
mouth to a nipple. 

"Why do you do this?" Sandy asked, again, his words coming seemingly out of 
nowhere and surprising even himself. 

"Hm?" 

"Why do you lay here like this all the time getting fucked?" 

"Feels good." 

"Yeah, but all the time?" 

"I like to feel good all the time. Love me?" 

Sandy hesitated a moment. Then the words flowed out of him. "Love you. Love 
your ass." There was no pause in his fucking. His cock-strokes were fluid, 
graceful. They made rhythmic squishing noises in the kid's ass. He kissed 
the kid deeply, sucking the breath out of the boy, watching the kid's blue 
eyes turn up and back. 

The kid's asshole exploded around his cock. The boy shuddered in his arms. 
"Ohhh, I'm cumming!" the boy moaned, the tone of his voice serene. "Come 
with me, angel!" The boy shivered, suddenly going limp and heavy in Sandy's 
arms. 

They crashed forward together, the boy's asshole clutching repeatedly at 
Sandy's cock. 

As they hit the mattress, Sandy sank his teeth into the back of the boy's 
neck, tasting hair and sweat, feeling the boy's skin prickle against his 
lips. His cock flexed in the boy's asshole and his cum streamed out of him 
in long spurts. 

"Ohhhhhh, baby, I'm cumming!" Sandy moaned the words softly, drooling hot 
spit all over the kid's neck as he said them. Another long spurt of cum 
drifted through his cock, then another. If felt as if his balls were being 
slowly sucked up through his pisstube. His cock seemed to inflate like a 
long balloon. It contracted, shooting more cum. Sandy felt orgasmic 
sensations in his own asshole and all through his loins. As usual, his toes 
curled under, clutching at the balls of his feet. They felt tight and 
swollen and hot, and orgasmic needles shot through them as if they too were 
spasming cocks. 

The kid's asshole finally stopped its squeezing and relaxed, loosening 
around Sandy's cock and making him sigh with a sort of relief. He eased his 
half-hard cock out of the kid's ass. His cock still twitched gently with the 
after shocks of orgasm, he climbed off the bed and stood looking down at the 
kid, his cock still eight inches long, but hanging heavy rather than 
standing up. Cum dripped off the end. 

The kid peeled his belly away from the cum-sticky mattress and sat up at the 
edge of the bed, his feet coming to rest on Sandy's insteps. He took Sandy's 
cock by the base and plopped the end into his open mouth. His head bobbed, 
his tongue licked, his lips sucked. He sucked the residual cum out of 
Sandy's pisstube and cleaned all the cum and assjuices off the outside. 
Sandy's cock began to stiffen and Sandy pulled back. 

"Let me eat it," the kid said, turning his blue eyes up. He resembled a 
pleading puppy. 

"Can't," Sandy said. "I gotta save it. I need some bread fast or I'm gonna 
starve. My cum's worth bucks." 

The kid caught up a handful of his own pooled cum from the mattress, where 
he'd shot it under his belly. He lifted his cum-dripping hand to Sandy's 
lips. "Here, taste this. I'll feed you all you want-anytime. It's the best 
kind of food." 

Sandy made a face. His first thought was, How disgusting! But he leaned his 
head forward and sucked up the thick boy-cum as if it were fresh cow-cream. 
Then he licked the boy's palm and fingers clean. He was getting to like the 
taste and smell of this stuff. It was crazy. 

The kid smiled up at him. "Stay with me. We'll lock ourselves in and make 
love all night." 

"Gotta go," Sandy said, picking up his jeans. 

"I didn't take your money," the kid said. "Believe me?" 

"Yeah," Sandy said. "I believe you." 

CHAPTER SEVEN 

It was still early, three o'clock at the latest, but already Polk Street was 
sweating hustlers along its store fronts. The heat seemed to be bringing 
them out early, out of their sweltering hotel rooms. The street wasn't much 
cooler, but at least the air was open, and even in the intense sunlight 
drenching the storefronts it felt cooler than in their airless, boxlike 
hotel rooms. 

Sandy smiled to see that he wasn't the only one today without shirt and 
shoes on. As he meandered up the three-block stretch where the hustlers took 
their posts and displayed their crotch bulges to the world, Sandy passed at 
least three barefooted, barechested teen- 

agers, the sweat trickling from their armpits, musky smells rising from them 
and floating on the breeze. Sandy was still the only hustler with a 
skateboard, however, and that made him feel as if he had one up on the 
others-he was still unique. 

He took his time this afternoon, taking in all the sights and smells and 
sounds of the street. He studied the other hustlers today instead of 
ignoring them as he had on previous afternoons. He noted the way they stood, 
noted the expressions on their faces, appraised their crotch bulges in the 
same shameless way that any queer John would. Some of the buys wore jeans so 
tight that he could see the outlines of their cockheads at the end of their 
swollen cockshafts. Most of the boys appeared to be semi-hard, in a mild 
state of sexual excitement. A few of them displayed shameless hard-ons. 
Sandy caught himself wondering what their cocks would look like once they 
got their pants off. He passed a boy dressed in nothing but a pair of tight, 
ultrashort cutoffs. The kid nodded to him. Sandy smiled. 

He was at the upper part of the street now, approaching the store where 
Alexis was always posted, but instead of Alexis he saw the kid in the black 
leather jacket. It was ninety degrees today, but the kid was still dressed 
in boots, jeans, and leather jacket. Sweat was dripping like tears off the 
kid's face and raining down all over the leather. It was as if the pores of 
the leather were bleeding sweat. He nodded to the 

kid and walked past him. He was tempted to tell the kid again today to stay 
cool, but he thought the kid might tell him to shove his head up his ass. 

At the end of the block he stopped and gazed up the street for awhile, 
tempted to walk to the top of the sloping street and to scan over the hill 
for Alexis. Today he wanted to see Alexis, needed to see him. He was ready 
today to make that hundred he could have made yesterday if he hadn't been so 
paranoid about not making it with Alexis. Shit, it would have been good 
money, maybe even fun. Alexis was clean and smiling and good looking, unlike 
most of the guys he'd run into last night. And Alexis liked him, seemed 
genuinely to like him, and Sandy felt that he needed someone to like him 
right now. Alexis liked to talk, like to listen, asked questions. Sandy 
wished now that he wouldn't have been so cool toward Alexis, especially 
yesterday when he'd fled Alexis as if the handsome boy were that toe-licking 
queer in the John who slithered across the floor like a lizard, his enormous 
cock sliding along under his belly. 

He turned and headed back the way he'd come. Alexis would be along when he'd 
be along. He was probably still in school, maybe checking out cocks in the 
shower room. Sandy didn't have time to wait. He needed to score, and to 
score fast-it would put his mind at ease. Time later to come back up here 
and look for Alexis. 

He was down in the middle of the hustling area, ready to take up his post 
near a street corner he'd staked a claim on over the last few days, when the 
cops came. They came in a half-dozen black-and-white squad cars, two cops to 
a car, and they pulled up in loading zones and in front of fire hydrants, 
and they got out of their cars, and Sandy could see that they meant 
business. Two of them had surrounded a boy half a block down, and Sandy 
could see that the kid was trying to act cool, but that he wasn't succeeding 
too well. A few hustlers left their posts, crossed to the other side of the 
street, and went into stores. 

A squad pulled up to the corner across the street from Sandy. Before the car 
door had even opened, Sandy dropped his skateboard and took off, hopping the 
curb in front of the squad as its doors opened and lunging past it down the 
sidewalk. One of the cops shouted something to him, but Sandy ignored him, 
pushing off with his foot and rolling along faster and faster until he was 
four blocks away. He cut around a corner, jumped off his board, and ran up 
the slightly inclined street. It wasn't until five minutes later when he was 
skating along the wide sidewalks of Market Street that he dared look back. 

He'd escaped. 

He went to the Greyhound Bus Depot, across from the post office. As he 
crossed Market Street to get there, a car-load of queers slowed as they 
passed him. The guys whistled at him and invited him for a ride. He sprinted 
behind a passing bus, escaping. Even if he'd been dead broke he wouldn't 
have climbed into the car with that group. He imagined fists up his ass. 

One other hustler was leaning up against the bus depot, an older guy with a 
cigarette and acne and wearing a yellow tank top shirt. Sandy avoided his 
glance and took up a post at a safe distance from the guy. He set his 
skateboard down and sat on it, leaning his bare back up against the warm 
concrete of the building. The street didn't look too promising here-it 
wasn't that popular a hustling area- but it would have to serve for the time 
being. He didn't dare go back to Polk Street for at least a few hours. He 
was lucky now to be sitting out on the sidewalk instead of being held in a 
jail cell. 

Rodney had told him all about what it was like to be dragged off to jail by 
the San Francisco police. No fun. And they'd find out without too much 
trouble that he was a runaway, and he'd be back in his stifling home by the 
next day. They'd caught Rodney more times than Sandy could remember, but 
Rodney had run away from home one final time and had been seen no more. 
Where he'd gone or what had happened to him nobody knew. He'd run away 
successfully eight months ago, good old Rodney had. Sandy thought he might 
be in New York or L.A., or maybe he'd somehow got out of the country. Maybe 
he was in Australia by now. he'd always talked about wanting to go to 
Australia. 

Good old Rodney. If it hadn't been for Rodney, Sandy would have never had 
the guts to run away, would have known nothing about San Francisco or how to 
hustle. During Rodney's captive interims in Santa Barbara, he'd explained to 
Sandy all about hustling, all about San Francisco. He'd even drawn maps. 
Sandy had used the maps on his first day in San Francisco, unfolding them 
only a few yards away from where he was now sitting, and using them to guide 
him from the door of the Greyhound depot to the meat rack on Polk Street. 
Thanks to good old Rodney, Sandy hadn't had to stumble blindly down too many 
streets before he knew his way around this part of downtown San Francisco. 
And thanks to good old Rodney he'd looked like an experienced hustler right 
from the start. Rodney had taught him well. 

He heard a click and looked up. A thin, middle-aged guy had just snapped his 
picture, using one of those fancy cameras with a huge lens. The guy wore a 
light-blue sportshirt that was unbuttoned to his navel, and Sandy could see 
large areas of dark-blue under the guy's arms where he was sweating. The man 
stepped to the side a few feet, squatted, and clicked another picture. 
People walking by on both sides of the street were turning their heads and 
watching. Sandy felt as if a hundred eyes were on him. 

Hey, man, what's the idea?" He put his hand up to shield his face as the guy 
clicked off another picture. "Hey, man, cut it out." 

The guy straightened up, grinning foolishly. He let the camera hang from the 
strap around his neck and raised both his hands, thumbs touching, so as to 
frame Sandy to his line of view like some movie director. "Wonderful. Yes, 
beautiful. A star is born. How'd you like to be in the movies, son?" 

The guy was out of his mind. "No thanks, man." 

"I'm serious." The guy raised his camera to click another picture. 

Sandy raised his arm again to cover his face. "Hey, man, and I'm serious. 
Lay off!" 

The camera clicked. "Whoops! That was an accident." The guy chuckled. 

What was he, some kind of tourist clown? Sandy got up and leaned against the 
bus depot, one bare foot poised in readiness on his skateboard in case he 
wanted to make a fast exit from the scene. "Look man, why don't you take 
pictures of the buses or something?" 

"A bus will never become a star," the man said, the camera in his left hand, 
a white handkerchief in his right as he wiped his sweaty brow. "Besides, 
what would a bus do with a modeling fee? What would a bus do with say 
seventy-five dollars?" 

The guy wanted him to model. "How long?" Sandy asked. "And what all do I 
have to do?" 

The guy came close, so close that the cold metal edge of the camera touched 
Sandy's flank and caused Sandy's skin there to prickle with goosebumps. "One 
hour. If we run over, you get another twenty for every extra fifteen 
minutes." The guy spoke in a half whisper. "And all you gotta do is play 
with yourself according to my directions." 

It sounded too easy, too good to be real, but Sandy went along with the guy. 
If the guy was for real, Sandy would be rich in an hour. 

The guy lived up near the Presidio, in fact, on the same street as the toad. 
As the guy pulled his car over to the curb, Sandy scanned the houses up and 
down the block. One of these places belonged to the toad, but Sandy couldn't 
be sure which one, they all looked so much alike. They got out of the car 
and the guy, who had introduced himself as Russ, went around to the trunk 
and opened it up. The trunk was full of photographic equipment. Russ pulled 
out a large portable movie camera, dropped his other camera inside, and 
slammed the trunk shut. 

He looked at his watch. "Three-forty-five." He showed the digital watch to 
Sandy. "We've officially begun." 

He took Sandy across the street where a stone wall several blocks long ran 
along the edge of the sidewalk and separated the military Presidio, which 
looked like an enormous wooded park, from civilian San Francisco. Sandy 
climbed to the top of a hill and rode his no 

skateboard down the sidewalk while the guy filmed him. Then Sandy walked 
across the street and up to the door of the guy's house. Russ was still 
standing out on the sidewalk, filming him. 

Up in the guy's apartment, which was a mess, the guy filmed Sandy settling 
back on the couch and reading a magazine. The guy had his camera on a tripod 
now, and two pro-fessional-lookling flood lights bathed Sandy like twin 
suns. He enjoyed the warmth of the flood lights, since the apartment was 
air-conditioned and cold. 

Russ muttered while he filmed. "Beautiful, beautiful! Oh, this is just 
wonderful! What a specimen! All right, darling, put down that mag and pick 
up any one of those flesh magazines you see lying around. Any one will do." 

Sandy reached for the top magazine on the end-table next to him. It was 
called Lovers, and on the cover was a picture of two naked young men in a 
passionate embrace and kissing each other. Their cocks, pressed together, 
were sticking out from their joined loins. A clear pearl of fuck-lube hung 
from the tip of one of the cocks. Sandy opened the magazine and began paging 
through it. His own cock, which had been half hard since Russ had begun 
filming him out on the sidwalk, now stiffened achingly in the confines of 
his tight jeans. He reached down into his pants and adjusted his big prick. 

"Oh, wonderful, marvelous! Does that 

m 

magazine turn you on, darling?" 

"Not especially," Sandy said, pulling his hand out of his jeans. "You got 
any with girls?" 

Russ giggled. "I'm afraid not. I'm not into girls, if you know what I mean." 

Sandy paged through the magazine while Russ continued filming him. The same 
two guys were pictured all through the magazine. In the first pages they 
were dressed and necking. As the magazine went along, they took off their 
clothes, pawed at each other's cocks and asses, blew each other and fucked 
each other. They weren't bad-looking guys, and they actually looked like 
they might be in love with each other. The expressions on their faces made 
them appear crazy about each other, as if they had forgotten the 
photographer's camera and had really gotten into making love. A picture of 
the blond guy on his back with the dark-haired guy bridged over him and 
fucking him-the top man's shoulders were hooked under the blond's 
knees-brought back the memory of last night. This was the way Mike had 
fucked Sandy. Sandy closed his eyes for a moment, reliving the scene, trying 
to recapture the wonderful feeling of getting fucked my Mike. 

"Oh, darling, you're a natural," Russ said. "You don't even need a director. 
Oh, beautiful, beautiful!" 

Sandy came out of his momentary revery to find the palm of his hand stroking 
firmly up and down his stiff cock. His cock was raging in his jeans, aching 
to be beat off. Sandy dropped the magazine and unsnapped his jeans. This was 
what Russ had brought him up here for-to jerk off in front of a camera. So 
why wait? Sandy hadn't jacked off in days, and he missed doing it. Now he 
was going to get paid for doing it. 

He pushed the pants down his legs and kicked them off onto the cluttered 
floor. His cock pecked athis belly up above his navel. 

"Oh my God, what a stud!" Russ said, a panting tone to his voice. "How big 
is it, darling?" 

Sandy smiled, shaking his head. These queers all wanted to know how big it 
was. "Eight inches, measured on top." 

"And at least ten inches measured on the bottom side," Russ said. "What a 
luscious-looking hunk of boy-meat! Oh, darling, if I have a heart-attack, 
call me an ambulance." 

Sandy laughed. Russ was all right. He propped his feet up on the coffee 
table in front of him and spread his legs. He was slumped back against the 
couch, his big balls dangling between his legs, his cock throbbing against 
his belly. This was getting to be great fun, and he was getting paid 
seventy-five bucks for doing it. Far out! 

Russ lowered the tripod. The camera lens was about level with Sandy's chest 
now. He rolled the tripod backward slightly on its wheels. "Marvelous feet. 
So big, the toes so wide spread, beautifully muscled. You must be a beach 
boy, a surfer maybe." 

"Yeah," Sandy said. He clasped his hands behind his neck and stretched, 
arching his back and making the muscles of his frontal torso dance. He did 
it intentionally. He was getting off on showing himself off to Russ and the 
camera. His cock pointed at the ceiling, quivering. His prick felt enormous. 
He contracted some muscles in his loins, making the big rod flex. 

Russ stepped away from the camera, letting it run by itself, and he pulled 
his cock out of his trousers. He stepped enough forward into the glare of 
the flood lights for Sandy to see his seven-inch man-cock. He went down on 
his knees and sat back on his heels, beating his cock while he watched 
Sandy. 

"You're marvelous," he said. "Just marvelous. Oh, I could just watch you all 
day. So sexy. Wiggle your cock again." 

Sandy wiggled his prick without touching it, using his loin muscles. 

"Oh, Jesus Christ, just like a dog's tail!" Russ's hand was a blur on his 
cock. 

Sandy made his cock flex rhythmically, made his prick quiver. His cock was 
achingly hard, the veins bloated, the prick head cleanly defined and nearly 
popping off the cock shaft. Sandy felt his balls roll in their 
tight-stretched sac. He shoved his fingers down under his balls, arched up 
so Russ and the camera could see his perineum, then twisted his middle 
lefthand finger up his asshole. He gave Russ a pouting, seductive look. 

Russ spurted all over the place. Cum shot out of his cock and pelted the 
magazines on the floor. Cum fell on his pants. The skinny man's eyes looked 
glazed, but he kept them trained on Sandy's cock and ass while he spurted. 
His body shivered with the spasms of his orgasm. He let out a low, pained 
moan. 

Sandy jack-knifed his legs so Russ could see all of his ass and his finger 
fucking in and out of his asshole. With his knees pulled in to his 
shoulders, he grabbed his cock and slowly stroked his prick, gazing into the 
camera and licking his lips seductively. He felt sexy as hell. He'd never 
done anything like this before, but, Christ, it sure turned him on. He 
pointed the toes of both his feet, rolled his head against the back of the 
couch, moaned to himself as he masturbated his big cock and finger-fucked 
his tingling asshole. 

Russ took out a handkerchief and milked the residual cum from his piss tube 
into it. Then he wiped the gobs of white cum off his black trousers. His 
cock hung half-hard against the black material. 

"Baby, just keep it up," he said. "I'm not gonna tell you how to do it, 
'cause it already looks like you know how. Just enjoy yourself." 

The camera clicked on, the sound of it like a melody over the throbbing 
drone of the air-conditioner in the background. The flood 

lights bathed Sandy in a delicious warmth. He stretched in the warm light, 
luxuriated under it, stroked his big cock and reamed out his ass. He closed 
his eyes and moaned softly to himself. His balls felt as if they were 
turning over and over. He wiggled and crossed his toes, spread his legs as 
wide as he could in their jack-knifed position, pointed his toes hard and 
formed a pretty arch with both his feet. 

"Sexy boy," Russ said. "Hot chicken darling." 

Sandy opened his eyes, squinting against the light to see Russ snatch up his 
discarded blue-jeans and press their crotch to his nose. Russ's cock was 
hard again, and he was beating it furiously. 

"Perfume of young nuts," Russ whispered. He inhaled again and again, his 
eyes rolling. "I'll give you a hundred for these, stud." 

"I don't know man." 

"One-fifty." 

"I'll think about it, man." 

"You're the most beautiful boy I've ever photographed," Russ said. "And 
you're so goddamned sexy. Oh, my darling angel!" He dropped the pants, 
arched up, and spurted his second load of cum higher and farther than his 
first. His wads of whitish cum splatted against magazines on the coffee 
table. His body jerked with each liquid explosion. The alkaline scent of cum 
filled the air, and Sandy inhaled it as if it were some aromatic mist. 

Sandy watched Russ shoot, fascinated by 

the way the man's body jerked with each spasm and by the way his cock seemed 
to have swelled enormously for the orgasm. He watched the gobs of cum hurl 
through the air and plop down. He found himself licking his lips, not so 
much to be sexy and seductive for the eye of the camera, but because his 
mouth was watering, because he felt hunger for the man's cum. He remembered 
the taste of Mike's cum. He remembered that kid in Room 305, remembered the 
way the kid had held a dripping cum-filled hand up to Sandy's lips and the 
way he had lapped up the cum. The kid's cum had been sweeter than Mike's, 
less salty, probably because the kid was hardly more than pubescent. It 
followed logically that older guys would have saltier cum than young kids. 

Sandy's middle finger twirled and fucked in his asshole. His finger seemed 
to be somebody else's finger now, because it was acting automatically, 
almost free of Sandy's conscious will. His middle finger prodded and filed 
and kneaded his swollen prostate gland, causing tight prickling sensations 
to gnaw through his loins and his balls and through the core of his cock. He 
felt the sensations in his nipples, felt them in his fingers and toes* 

"Ohh, man, feels so good," he muttered. "I'm gonna shoot pretty soon, man. 
I'm gonna blow my wad. Shit, man, ooh, feels good." His words were as much 
for his own benefit as to stimulate Russ. When he talked like this, he felt 
even sexier. His cock felt as long and thick as a forearm in his pumping 
hand. His swollen cock-veins rippled under his palm and fingers. He beat his 
prick harder, feeling his balls flop up and down heavily down below. 

Russ was leaning forward, watching Sandy beat off from as close a range as 
he could without his head getting into the frame of the camera's eye. His 
cock was stiff in his fist again, and he was beating off frantically, his 
breathing heavy. Despite the air-conditioning, sweat was running on his 
deeply flushed face. "Beat that big mother, baby. Make that big mother 
shoot. Oh, baby, beat off that hot cock. I wanna see that boy-cum squirt. Oh 
yeah, yeahhhhh!" 

"Get ready," Sandy gasped. "I'm gonna blow any second now. Ohhh, it feels 
good, feels so damn good!" 

Some fuck-lube had leaked out of his cock now and his hand was slippery, 
making a squishing sound as he masturbated. His hand gripped his cock so 
hard that his cockhead looked like it would explode. His loins swelled 
inside with a million tightening sex-knots. His asshole was on fire. He 
jabbed his prostate gland again and again and again. 

"Yeaahhhh!" Sandy moaned. "Oh, yeahhh!" He heard the camera ticking away 
like a time bomb, heard the sexy throbbings of the air-conditioner's drone, 
felt the heat of the flood lights dancing all over him and penetrating his 
body in a zillion places. He drilled his finger into his prostate gland, 
trying to burst it as if it were a waterballoon. His right hand nearly 
skinned his cock. His prickhead seemed to swell to the size of a fist. His 
legs shot forward, his heels bracing against the magazines on the coffee 
table. His long body arched up, quivering like a sprung bow, the jism 
jetting through his cock like scalding-hot water and spurting three feet 
above his arched body. 

"Ahhhhhhh! A www w w! Mannnnnnn!" The jism pelted down on him like hot rain. 
Arrows of electricity shot through his asshole, through his cock, up his 
spine, down his legs, through his toes. His quivering toes clutched at the 
magazine, gouging and crumpling their glossy covers. His loins jerked up and 
down, gripped with orgasm as if by a pair of strong, shaking hands. He 
arched up high, shooting again and again and again. Cum was everywhere. He 
was half crying, half laughing. It felt so goddamn good! "Ahhh, ohhh, 
mannnn!" 

CHAPTER EIGHT 

He left Russ's place after dark, dressed in nothing but a pair of short 
cutoffs with small holes worn in the ass. Russ had finally offered him 
two-hundred for his jeans, and he couldn't turn it down. Now he had 
two-hundred-seventy-five dollars in twenties, tens, and five crammed into 
the right front pocket of the loin-strangling cutoffs. The shorts were at 
least two sizes too small for him, had belonged to some kid Russ had filmed 
during the summer. Russ had shown Sandy a jack-off film of the kid before 
giving him the cutoffs to replace his sold jeans. The kid vaguely resembled 
that kid at the party last night, and his cutoffs still had the scent of his 
balls on 

them after all these months, in addition to a few cum stains. 

Russ had a whole collection of jeans and shorts, of underwear and 
jock-straps-clothing that had at one time belonged to boys who had modeled 
for him. Russ kept each article of clothing in a separate plastic bag so as 
to preserve the aroma of each boy in his clothing for as long as possible. 
Now Sandy's old jeans would go into one of those bags. It was crazy. 

Sandy smiled to himself as he jumped off his skateboard to walk up the hill 
past Lafayette Park. That Russ was some crazy dude-not a bad guy, though. 
He'd fed Sandy his first good meal in days, and now Sandy's belly bulged 
slightly over the super-tight cutoffs. Russ was such a nice guy that Sandy 
was going to do him a favor. As soon as he'd bought himself a decent new 
pair of jeans he was going to return these cutoffs to Russ. The shorts would 
have the ball-scent of two boys on them when he returned them, but he didn't 
think Russ would mind that. He imagined Russ jacking off as he sniffed the 
crotch of the cutoffs. Some queers had crazy ways of getting their rocks 
off, but Sandy was starting to understand queers a little bit better now. 
Crazy, but he had a hard-on now from wearing this other kid's cutoffs. He 
liked the idea that the material hugging his own balls now had once hugged 
the balls of another kid. 

He was halfway past the park now and he was aware of dark shapes cruising 
through the 

bushes up above. He began to trot, a warm breeze toying with his hair. It 
was a beautiful, star-filled night. It seemed that nothing bad could happen 
on a night like this, but he wasn't going to take any chances by staying too 
long around this park. It looked like there were a hundred queers up there 
cruising around, and once they got his scent, or an eyeful of his near 
nakedness, there was no telling what might happen. He thought of himself as 
a young tomcat trotting past a compound patrolled by a hundred Doberman 
pinschers. 

At the top of the hill he jumped on his board and started a roaring slalom 
toward Polk Street. He let out a whoop halfway down the hill, then laughed 
to himself. He was rich again, and feeling pretty good. Russ had given him 
wine-two glassfuls of it. He wanted to find Alexis to tell him about all 
that had happened since yesterday. 

Polk Street was swarming with people in short-sleeve shirts. The street was 
a circus-hustlers and queers and straight couples, cars cruising 
bumper-to-bumper, the scents from a dozen restaurants mingled with the 
smells of sweat and car exhaust. People were laughing, shouting at each 
other, whistling. Sandy looked for Alexis in the usual spot, but Alexis's 
post was occupied by a red-haired punk with a safety pin in his left 
earlobe. The punk gave Sandy a once-over, then ignored him. Sandy headed 
down the street. He could come back later and check again for Alexis. Alexis 
had to turn up eventually. 

The queers went into hysteria as Sandy made his way down the sidewalk, 
crotch thrust forward, ass wiggling. He padded along slowly, letting them 
appreciate him. He was beginning to realize just how sexy and good looking 
he was. He glanced at himself from time to time in the passing store 
windows. He was handsome, he was pretty, he was cute. He had a beautiful 
body and a big cock, and he was worth every penny any queer had ever paid 
him. It was time that he started charging more for the use of his body. 
Hustlers like him didn't come along every day, and, from the comments he was 
hearing all around him, he knew that the queers thought so too. 

He was down on lower Polk now. The crowd was thinning here as the 
restaurants and stores petered out. The city hall and civic center were only 
a few blocks ahead. It was time to swing back up the street. Maybe he'd 
catch Alexis on this trip up. 

He was a block up the street on his return trip when a giddy queer in a 
leather jacket hooked his right arm. The giggling queer breathed beer on 
him. 

"Hey, man," the queer said. "I've been watching you, and I like what I see." 

Sandy disengaged his arm from the queer's. "Sorry man, but I don't think you 
can pay my price." 

The queer put his hand on Sandy's lower 

back, wedged his fingers under the edge of Sandy's cutoffs. "Don't be too 
sure about that, beautiful." 

Sandy side-stepped away from the guy. "See ya, man." He really wasn't in the 
mood for this now. He'd scored big with Russ, and now he just wanted to see 
Alexis. 

The queer caught him from behind, tugging at his shorts. "Hey, baby, wait." 

Sandy slowed down only to avoid getting his shorts ripped off. "Come on, 
man, lay off." 

The queer was still smiling and giddy. Sandy noticed that the guy was naked 
under his leather jacket. 

"Let me give you a blow job, baby. Fifty bucks." 

Sandy laughed. "How about a-hundred-and-fifty?" 

The guy looked stunned for a split second, his painted-on smile wrinkling 
just barely. Then he was all smiles again. "Shit, make it two hundred. 
You're worth it." 

"Christ!" Sandy muttered, the word coming out unintentionally. Two hundred 
bucks for a blow job? There must be something wrong with this guy's mind. 
"All right, man, where you gonna do it?" 

The queer led him down a side street and up an alley. The orangish glow from 
a streetlight crept only a short distance up the alley. The queer took him 
to a dark area between two huge garbage bins. The smell of food and the 
clatter of dishes from the rear of a nearby 

building, and Sandy tried to figure out which restaurant they were standing 
behind. He un-snapped his shorts, wanting to get this blow job over with as 
soon as possible. He didn't like this situation, didn't like this place. 

"Take 'em off," the queer said. "I wanna see all of you." 

The tiny shorts slid down Sandy's legs and he stepped out of them. His cock 
stood up, twitching, he'd never felt so naked in his life, out here in an 
alley in downtown San Francisco. He bent down and placed his skateboard, 
upside-down, on top of his shorts. He suddenly remembered the wad of bills 
in his right-hand pocket. He straightened up, one foot on the overturned 
skateboard. 

"Okay, man, blow me." 

The queer smiled, his smile less drunken now and slightly conniving. "When 
I'm ready, man. For two hundred, I'm calling the shots." He pulled off his 
jacket, revealing a hairy chest and a sweaty torso. He reminded Sandy a 
little bit of Mike, although he wasn't half as muscular. His gaze crawled 
all over Sandy. 

Sandy crossed his arms, not because he was cold, but because it gave him a 
very slight feeling of security. He suddenly wished he'd never come along 
with this guy. He was tempted to pick up his shorts and leave, but he had a 
feeling that the queer would raise hell. Besides, it wasn't everyday that he 
got two-hundred dollars for letting somebody suck his prick. 

The queer unzipped his jeans and hauled out his cock. His prick was a big 
floppy thing, half-hard, uncircumcised, smaller than Mike's cock, but even 
half-hard his prick was already bigger than Sandy's was at full erection. 
The guy managed to haul out his balls too, and now he stood there with his 
hands on his hips, his set of oversized fuck organs bulging out of his fly. 
The guy looked Sandy straight in the eyes, his silly smile transforming to a 
sneer. 

"All right, queer, on your knees." 

Sandy heard the guy, but it took time for the guy's words to make any sense. 
"Hey, man, what-" 

"On your knees, sissy!" The guy's fingernails sank into Sandy's shoulders. 

"Christ!" Sandy sank to his knees, writhing. The guy's thumbs gouged the 
tender flesh just above Sandy's collarbone. Tears of pain blurred his 
vision. 

The guy's hands slipped up to Sandy's ears, nearly tearing them off. 
"Cock-sucking little bitch!" 

Sandy was moaning, on the very edge of bawling. "Please, man." 

"Shut up, faggot, before I break your scrawny neck." The guy spoke in low, 
teeth-clenched tones. "Eat that cock, you little bastard!" 

The guy's prick, hard now, the burning cock head peeking like a shiny ripe 
plum from the half-encasing foreskin, rammed brutally at Sandy's lips, 
bruising them against his front teeth. 

"Eat that dick or I'll kill you!" The guy pulled on Sandy's ears, stretching 
them what seemed like a foot away from his head. 

Sandy started to bawl. His head felt as if it were a thousand degrees hot. 
The tears poured out of his eyes and seemed to sizzle on his cheeks. His 
moan of agony and terror was rammed back down his throat by the man's cock. 
He choked, clutching at the man's legs. His head and lungs felt as if they 
would explode. 

The guy let go of his ears and had him by the hair now. He yanked his cock 
out of Sandy's mouth, then rammed it back in, slamming his hairy lower 
abdomen at Sandy's nose, choking Sandy again. 

Sandy's nose ran with both blood and snot. His spit gushed out over the 
man's hairy balls. He gagged on the man's sweaty, uncut cock. 

"Faggot! Faggot!" the man mumbled, almost chanting the word. "Think you're 
hot stuff, don't you, little sissy girl? Come down here and wiggle your 
smelly little butt and think that somebody should kiss it." His fingers 
clawed at Sandy's scalp. He fucked hi cock in and out. 

Sandy's throat ached, burned, felt as if it were being torn. Blood oozed 
froma split in his upper lip. His jaw seemed to have dislocated. The guy's 
huge cock fucked in and out, as cruel and murderous as a torpedo. 

The man arched backwards, clutching Sandy's head as if it were a jack-off 
toy while he slammed his muscular loins at Sandy's face. "Like it, faggot 
boy? Enjoying it? This is what all you faggots want, ain't it-a real man to 
fuck your sissy face. Ain't it, faggot, ain't it?" 

Sandy clung to the man's legs to prevent himself from hanging. His neck was 
stretched out long. His body was flapping around like a rag doll. He 
continued to choke, but he found that if he strained for air each time the 
man pulled back, he could get enough oxygen to keep from blacking out. 

The man fucked his cock in to the hilt, gyrating his ass and scouring 
Sandy's lips and nose with his wiry groin. The man's cock was stuffed 
halfway down the length of Sandy's throat. Sandy could feel the man's prick 
throbbing, could feel its arteries twitching. 

"Eat that hot meat," the man muttered. "Give it a good blow job or I'll snap 
you in half and stuff you in one of these trash bins." He pulled his cock 
back a few inches. 

Sandy conctracted his throat muscles, sucked, used his tongue on the big 
cock. Out of the few cocks he'd had in his mouth, this was the first 
uncircumcised cock he'd ever tasted. As he bobbed his head over the man's 
cock, working with his tongue, trying to bring the man off as quickly as 
possible, he was conscious of the man's foreskin slipping back and forth 
over the swollen prickhead. The foreskin was meaty, elastic, rubbery. Sandy 
wanted to bite it, to stretch it. He imagined himself per-m 

forming a circumcision on the man with his sharp front teeth. "Lick it, 
queer boy. That's it, yeah. Get yeah, you're a head-sucking bitch slut, 
ain't you faggot boy?" He tightened his hold on Sandy's head, pressing his 
thumbs in hard at the temples. 

A billion flashing stars filled Sandy's head, he thought for sure he was 
going to black out. it was as if a hot poker were being rammed through his 
skull. He started to bite into the man's cock, and the pressure of the man's 
thumbs eased. 

"Watch it, faggot! Careful with those teeth, unless you wanna hear every 
last one of 'em clicking on the concrete after I knock 'em outa your head." 

Sandy wedged his tongue between the man's cockhead and his foreskin. The 
flesh in there was sizzling. He wiggled his tongue, working it back and 
forth and from side to side. The rubbery foreskin stretched, and Sandy began 
to work his tongue around and around the cockhead. 

The man raised up and down on his toes. "Maaaannnn, ahhhh! You suck better 
than my old lady. Ohhh, Jeeesus, ooooh!" 

Sandy felt vibrations shooting through the big cock, felt the entire hard 
prick begin to throb rhythmically. He pistoned his tongue at the sensitive 
underside of the throbbing prick-head. He bobbed his head, sucked, even 

moaned as if he thought this were the best tasting cock he'd ever had in his 
mouth. 

The man wiggled his ass, fucked his cock in and out between Sandy's lips. 
"Ahhh, ahhh ahhhh, yeah, suck that meat!" He rammed his cock down Sandy's 
throat. His balls swelled and contracted against Sandy's chin. "Ohhh shit! 
Goddamn! Ahhhhhhhhh!" His hot thick cum exploded down Sandy's throat "Eat 
it, you faggot bastard!" 

Sandy gagged on the explosive spurts of man-cum. The taste and aroma flooded 
his senses. It was as if somebody had shoved a vial of smelling salts under 
his nose. The huge cock jerked in his mouth like a rattlesnake, darted at 
his tonsils, shot venom at them. The man's cum was thick and gummy, hot and 
slick. The hot cum-wads slid down his throat like oysters. 

"Yeah, eat that cum, eat that cum!" The man fucked away at Sandy's throat 
until his cum stopped spurting and simply oozed from his piss-slit. He 
hauled his cock out of Sandy's mouth, deflated slightly and dripping with 
cum and spit, and he slammed his prick back and forth across Sandy's face. 
"Dirty little queer. I oughta beat the shit outa you." He slammed Sandy 
across the face with his open hand, and Sandy went rolling on the cracked, 
gritty concrete. 

Sandy curled up into a ball. His skin burned, skinned from the concrete. His 
head throbbed, dizzy, filled with flashes of black light. He tasted blood, 
sweat, snot. He wanted 

to die. After a few seconds he dared to look up at the man. 

His vision was all blurry, but he could make out the man zipping up his 
jeans and putting his leather jacket back on. Sandy reached out, feeling for 
his shorts. He touched the wheel of his skateboard, found his shorts and 
pulled them toward him. 

The guy's boot ground down onto his hand. "Gimme those, you faggot bastard. 
Since you like to show off your ass so much, now you can show it all off." 
He hooked his boot toe under Sandy's shorts and flipped them up in the air, 
swinging down his hand to nab them, "I'll drop these smelly things in some 
trash can." 

"Please, mister-" 

"Shut up or I'll dance on your sissy face." The man rolled Sandy's shorts 
into a ball, then unrolled them. He reached into a pocket. His hand came 
back out with a wad of bills. He dropped the shorts, his mouth hanging open 
as he peeled apart the bills. "Holy shit!" He chuckled, shoving the bills 
into the right front pocket of his jeans. He was grinning, looking almost 
drunk again. He shook his head and wheeled away from Sandy, leaving the 
shorts behind. "See ya 'round, faggot." 

A brush-fire of rage swept through Sandy. That was his money. The man had 
raped him, beat him, and was now robbing him. He was on his feet with the 
skateboard in his hand before the man had taken two steps. He lunged 

at the man, skateboard raised over his head, and brought it down on the 
man's head. In the split second before the skateboard cracked across the 
guy's skull, Sandy realized what he was doing and tried to stop the board. 
The hesitation was enough to save the man's skull. 

The man went down, dazed, and Sandy stared down at him, dazed himself 
because of his own sudden violence. The man struggled to his feet, rubbing 
his head and blinking. He bared his teeth. 

"I'm gonna kill you, faggot, and then I'm gonna cut off your balls." He took 
one step toward Sandy, and Sandy screamed louder than he'd ever screamed in 
his life. 

At the same time that he was screaming, Sandy waved the skateboard back and 
forth over his head and backed toward the wall. The man kept coming, his 
face contorted with pure hatred. 

"I'm gonna kill you, faggot." 

A door about thirty feet up the alley swung open. Light beamed out into the 
alley, carrying with it the sound of clattering dishes. "What in the hell's 
going on out there?" A fat man in a white apron stepped out into the alley. 

"What is it?" came a voice from inside. 

"Jesus Christ, Ray, call the cops." 

The man in the leather jacket spun away and ran. Within seconds he was a 
loping silhouette against the orange glow at the end of the alley. The 
thudding sounds of his boots echoed off 

the walls of the buildings, then were gone. 

The fat man in the apron was coming toward Sandy, a dish-towel dangling from 
his hand. "What's going on, boy? Where're your clothes?" 

Sandy found his shorts. "I'm all right," he said. 

"Stay right there, boy, the cops'll be here in a minute." 

Sandy slipped out from between the garbage bins and backed away from the 
man. "I'm all right, man." 

Another man stepped out into the alley. "What is it, Al?" 

"Don't know. One of 'em ran off. This one here's naked as a jaybird. Looks 
banged up, but he's got a hard-on like a billy club." 

"Faggots," the other man said. "Just another faggot cat-fight." 

The two men came toward him. Sandy wheeled and ran. 

"Hey, kid, get back here. Jesus Christ, boy, come back." 

A siren whined close by, getting closer. Sandy flew. 

CHAPTER NINE 

He ran three blocks before he dipped into another alley and pulled on his 
shorts. His lungs burned. His heart hammered so loudly in his head that its 
thundering was all that he could hear. His bladder was full, his prick 
aching because he had to piss so bad, but he didn't have time to piss, 
wouldn't be able to piss anyway, as tense as he was, with his prick so 
fucking hard. 

Hugging his skateboard, he stepped out onto the sidewalk again. The street 
was fairly dark. He looked up and down it, wondering how many people had 
seen him running along naked and with a big hard-on. A few people strolled 
along on both sides of the street, but 

none of them were gawking in his direction. Some people must have spotted 
him, but either they hadn't stayed around or they didn't give a damn about a 
naked boy running through downtown San Francisco on a hot autumn evening. He 
thanked those nameless people for leaving him alone as he trotted on his 
toes up the street. 

A few minutes later he found himself on Larkin Street. It was busy and 
well-lit, but it didn't have anywhere near the human and auto traffic of 
Polk Street, which was just a block down now. Sandy trotted up Larkin, 
keeping his eyes on the sidewalk. He didn't want to catch anybody's eye. He 
must look a mess, with the blood drying on his face. 

Several blocks up the hill, he turned down toward Polk. He'd check out 
Alexis's post once, and if Alexis wasn't there, to hell with it -he'd go 
back to his hotel and lock himself in and hide. He needed to score, needed 
at least a few bucks in his pocket, but he couldn't stand the thought of 
going off with some loony who might beat the shit out of him again, who 
might even kill him.. He was afraid now, more afraid than he'd been even 
last night at the party when they'd had him bound and gagged. He turned the 
corner onto Polk, and there stood Alexis, surrounded by a group of guys, 
both queers and hustlers. 

Sandy stood fifty feet away from the group, unable to move. He needed to 
talk to Alexis, but he would never be able to walk into the 

middle of that group. He was next to stark naked, he was bruised, scraped, 
bloody. He stared at the babbling, laughing group of boys and men and felt 
utterly alone. One of the guys glanced toward him. Sandy turned and ran. He 
was around the corner and nearly back up to Larkin Street when he heard his 
name being called. Without looking back, he sat down on the sidewalk where 
he stood and buried his face against his pulled-up knees. He was sobbing, 
leaking tears down his thighs, when Alexis hunkered down next to him and 
stroked his head. 

"Sandy, Sandy. Hey, man, it's all right." 

 * * * 

The hot water gushed down over his face, ran in sheets down his chest and 
belly, caressed his balls and washed down his legs. His nipples were hard, 
jutting out like tiny hot pokers between Alexis' rolling fingers and thumbs. 
Alexis bit him all over the neck and shoulders, stroked up and down the 
backs of his calves with electrically charged toenails. Alexis churned his 
smooth belly against Sandy's ass, rubbed his own hard nipples against 
Sandy's upper back. Alexis' cock, an inch longer than Sandy's, throbbed in 
the heart of his asshole. Sandy's mouth gaped as he laughed, the steaming 
shower water gushing in, then rushing out over his uptilted chin like a 
waterfall. 

Alexis bear-hugged him, fucking his big cock in and out of Sandy's throbbing 
asshole. "Do you love me?" 

Sandy said, "I love you." It sounded ridiculous to one part of his mind, but 
to all the rest of him it sounded like the truth. His balls swelled and 
rolled as he said the words, and his cock flexed, pointing straight up at 
the ceiling above the bathtub. He had never felt so warm and secure in his 
life-and so loved. 

"Will you marry me?" Alexis said, his cock maintaining its wonderful fucking 
rhythm in Sandy's asshole. He licked the back of Sandy's neck, sending 
shivers down Sandy's spine. 

"Yeah," Sandy said, "I'll marry you." He giggled. He'd never in his life 
felt so free and loose. He felt as bubbly as a freshly opened bottle of 
champagne. "Just keep fucking me. Mmmmmm, it feels so good." He writhed in 
Alexis' arms, twisting his head against Alexis' face. The big cock felt like 
a hot, slippery snake inside him. He wasn't even touching his own cock, but 
he thought that he would come anyway. The cock fucking in his asshole would 
be enough to bring him off. "Fuck me, Alexis. Oh, man, fuck me!" 

Alexis slid his hands down Sandy's flanks and gripped Sandy's narrow hips. 
Jerking with his arms and thrusting with his loins, he fucked his cock 
faster and faster in Sandy's asshole, smacking his tight young belly 
repeatedly against Sandy's wiggling ass. 

"Oh God, Alexis, oh Jesus!" Sandy's loins 

blazed inside. He panted, his heart banging nearly as hard as it had when 
he'd run away from that alley an hour ago. The cops had been closing in on 
him then. Now he felt totally free. He moaned, gyrating his ass against 
Alexis' lower belly. 

Alexis slowed his fucking. He was panting as wildly as was Sandy. "Man, 
you've got a tight ass. I'm glad that guy didn't get his dong into it and 
rip it up." 

"He pounded my face up bad enough." 

Alexis reached up with one hand and turned Sandy's head to the left. He 
licked Sandy's throbbing cheek bruise. He nibbled down Sandy's face, 
brushing his spongy, silky lips against Sandy's lips. "You're still the most 
beautiful boy I've ever seen." 

Sandy groaned, sucking at Alexis' lips. Electrical tingles swirled through 
Sandy's lips, spread through his face. He shoved his tongue into Alexis' 
mouth. The thrills shot straight down to his cock. He grabbed his prick and 
pumped, crushing the maddening prickling sensations through his cock, 
milking his prickshaft. Their mouths were open, pressed together, tongues 
lapping at each other's tonsils, teeth clicking together electrically. 

"I can't stand this," Sandy said. "I've gotta come." 

Alexis' blue eyes rolled back. Sandy could tell he was in ecstasy. "Let's 
cream," Alexis said. "Oh, man, let's cream." He ground his belly at Sandy's 
ass. His fingers clawed at the 

lean flesh of Sandy's hips. 

Sandy cupped his balls with his left hand and continued to pump his cock 
with his right. He still felt that he could come without touching himself, 
but that would take a little longer, and he wanted to come now-with Alexis. 

"Tell me when you're gonna shoot," he whispered, his head still turned far 
to the left. He gnawed at Alexis' handsome, beardless jaw. 

"Okay," Alexis said, humping rhythmically, his eyes still rolled back as if 
he were in a trance. "Shoot your jizz into my hand, okay? I wanna eat it." 

"Okay," Sandy said. His cock felt three feet long as he slipped his hand up 
and down its length. The swollen veins of the prickshaft rippled under his 
fingers. His balls throbbed in his left hand, bloated to the size of chicken 
eggs. His prostate gland was a burning, aching knot in his asshole, sliced 
at by Alexis' cock. His cum bubbled inside him, like lava about to erupt 
from a volcano. 

Alexis' cock swelled flexed. "Ohhhh, Sandy, here it comes! Come with me, 
baby! Alexis fucked his cock in to the hilt. The huge prick quivered, 
swelling even larger. 

Sandy jerked his hand furiously, making his prickskin sizzle. He felt the 
jism uncoil in his balls, felt the tight springs of sex-tension begin to 
unwind through his loins. His cock flexed hard, every cell of his prick 
tingling and on 

fire. He felt a rope of scalding jism jet through his pisstube. At the same 
moment, he felt Alexis explode into his asshole. 

"Ahhhhh!" they cried out together. "Awwwww!" 

Sandy cupped his hand in front of his cock, and it was filled instantly with 
a load of hot, sticky jism. As he fired again and again, his cum overflowed 
his hand and dripped with heavy splats onto the floor of the tub. He writhed 
in Alexis' arms, his loins jerking, his legs rubbery, his entire body 
flashing with prickles. The cum pumped through his cock, burst out again and 
again into his hand. 

"Man, I love this feeling!" Alexis whispered, fucking his cock in and out 
with quick, short jerks. His cum spurted out quick and forcefully, filling 
Sandy's asshole. 

"Me too," Sandy moaned. "Oh, man, me too!" He twisted his head, dizzy with 
the sensations snaking through his spine. 

They stopped shooting almost simultaneously, their cocks jerking in unison 
with the after-shocks of their orgasms. Alexis pulled his dripping, 
twitching cock out of Sandy's asshole, and Sandy turned to face him, feeling 
the hot water slide down his back now instead of his front. Sandy offered 
his cum-dripping hand to Alexis. Alexis smiled and lowered his lips to 
Sandy's palm, sucking up the warm cum. Sandy thought Alexis was beautiful. 

They kissed, arms around each other, their 

rubbery cocks throbbing between their lean bellies. Alexis' lips were sticky 
with Sandy's cum, and Sandy thrust his tongue into Alexis' mouth, tasting 
more of his cum in Alexis' throat. He realized that part of himself was 
inside Alexis now, realized that- Alexis would digest his rich cum and that 
soon he would be a part of Alexis. He hugged Alexis tighter. 

"I love you," he said. 

They kissed again, Alexis muttering, "I love you," in return. "Let's get out 
of here before we shrivel up like prunes," Alexis said at last. 

After drying off, Alexis showed Sandy around the apartment. Naked, holding 
hands, they moved from room to room, their cocks wagging in front of them at 
forty-five-degree angles. They passed in front of a hallway mirror and 
paused to look at themselves. Sandy was stunned at how much they looked 
alike now that they were naked: Same size, same muscle shape, same smooth 
skin. They were almost twins-except for Sandy's brown eyes and Alexis' blue 
ones. Sandy's tan was darker, and Alexis' blond hair was a few inches 
shorter than Sandy's, but these things were hardly noticeable. 

They kissed in front of the mirror, then walked hand-in-hand into Alexis' 
bedroom. Leaving the door open behind them, they flopped down on the 
powder-blue bedspread and propped themselves up with pillows behind their 
backs. Their legs stretched out long in front of them, they draped arms 

around each other's shoulders, Sandy's right arm going around Alexis, and 
Alexis' left arm going around Sandy. They turned their faces toward each 
other and kissed, tongues darting between lips. Their big cocks pounded 
their abdomens. 

Sandy sighed. "So this is what it's like to be queer. Wish I'd known a long 
time ago." 

Alexis chuckled, stroking the toes of his left foot up and down Sandy's 
right instep. "I'm glad you found out now." 

"Me too, Alexis. Say, I really like your name." He reached over and held 
Alexis' enormous cock. 

Alexis immediately grabbed Sandy's cock. He pecked Sandy on the lips. 
"Thanks. It was my mother's idea. It's kind of a gay name. I think my mother 
knew I was gay right from the start. I was born with a hard-on, she says." 

Sandy laughed. 

"It's true. That's what she says." 

Sandy didn't believe it, but he didn't want to get into an argument over it. 
The last thing he ever wanted to do was to argue with Alexis. "Can I suck 
your cock?" 

"Mmmmm," Alexis said, sliding down until he was lying on the bed. "That's a 
question you don't ever have to ask me. You can suck my cock until we both 
die and go to hell, and I won't mind." 

Sandy slid down beside Alexis and licked at his cock. "Can I suck your cock 
in hell too?" 

Alexis grinned and sighed. His cock flexed 

up, then slapped heavily back down onto his belly. "Eat it before I go 
crazy, Sandy. Oh, man, munch that big meat!" 

Sandy gripped the nine-inch cock at its base and wrapped his mouth around 
the swollen prickhead. Alexis' cock tasted delicious. Sandy drove his tongue 
a quarter-inch up the open piss-slit. 

Alexis arched up. "Ohhh, mannn!" 

Sandy, lying on his side, his head pillowed on Alexis' hard abdomen, sucked 
as much of the big cock into his mouth as he could, which was just a little 
over half. He licked at the swollen prickhead, savoring the feeling and the 
flavor. At the same time, he reached down and began to jerk off his own 
cock. The tactile sensations in Sandy's mouth from sucking on Alexis' cock 
shot straight down to Sandy's prick. It was as if he'd been doing this all 
his life-sucking cock and jerking off-but it had sure taken a long time for 
Sandy to discover that he liked to do it. 

Alexis stroked Sandy's head, wound his fingers in Sandy's fast-drying blond 
hair. "You're my lover now," Alexis said. "Aren't you my lover now?" 

"Mmmm," Sandy said, his mouth full of thick cock. 

"Yeah," Alexis said. "I knew you'd be my lover the first time I laid eyes on 
you. You're beautiful, and you're mine-right?" 

"Mmmm." I'm yours, Sandy thought, and you're mine. He munched loudly on 
Alexis' 

big hot prick while he slowly pumped his own cock. He was in no hurry to 
come, and he could sense that Alexis wasn't in any hurry to come either. 
This was a long, lazy suck that could go on forever. Sandy squirmed on the 
soft bed-spread, feeling totally uninhibited, feeling sexier and more 
comfortable than he'd ever felt with another person. 

"Let's sixty-nine," Alexis said. "I wanna taste your meat." 

Sandy slid up on top of Alexis before they shifted to the sixty-nine 
position. He lay on top of the beautiful boy, humping gently at him while 
they kissed. "I love you." 

"I love you," Alexis said, "and I wanna suck your big dick." 

In the sixty-nine position, lying on their sides, they hugged each other, 
pressing chests to abdomens. Sandy reveled in the feeling of Alexis' hot, 
silky skin against his own. The only body-hairs either boy had were the 
blond sprigs of hair at the bases of their cocks and in their armpits. 

Alexis drove his face between Sandy's legs and sucked at the tender skin 
just under Sandy's balls. Sandy's thighs clamped around Alexis's head. Sandy 
gasped, shoving his nose into Alexis' asscrack and sucking at the same 
tender spot under Alexis' balls. He felt Alexis' balls roll against his 
chin. Alexis' ballsac felt unbelievably soft and smooth. 

"Suck ass," Alexis said, his voice muffled between Sandy's clamped thighs. 
"Let's eat ass." 

A thrill shot through Sandy. He plowed up Alexis' asscrack with his nose 
until his lips were sucking at Alexis' asspucker. Between Sandy's legs, 
Alexis was performing the same trick. Noses buried in each other's asscleft, 
they sucked each other's ass puckers. Their tongues probed the tight 
puckers, then wiggled inside. 

Sandy thought he was going to go insane. The feeling was unlike anything 
he'd ever imagined. It was almost as if he was sucking on and licking out 
his own asshole. The sensations shot up his ass at the same time that they 
swirled through his tongue. He sucked hard, tasting boy-ass and wanting to 
taste more. He had never dreamed that ass could taste so good. Alexis tasted 
sweet, not salty and cummy like that kid had tasted last night. Sandy didn't 
care if he ever stopped eating this delicious ass. 

It was minutes before Alexis pulled his tongue out of Sandy's asshole. "Oh, 
man, you're good!" 

"You too," Sandy said, his lips pasty with ass-flavored saliva. "You've got 
a great ass, Alexis." 

"You too, man. Now I wanna taste your cock." 

At that moment the door closed behind them-at least that's what Sandy 
thought he heard. He yanked out from between Alexis' legs and almost threw 
his neck out of place 

trying to crane his head for a look. The door was closed. Sandy pushed away, 
but Alexis held him. 

"Hey, man, cool it. What's the matter?" 

"Somebody shut the door, man. That's what's the matter." 

Alexis chuckled. "Just my mom. She just got home from work." 

"Just your mom?" Sandy struggled to get away. 

Alexis wrestled with him. "Hey, cool it, man. Nothing to worry about. I told 
you before-she's cool." 

"Christ, but she saw us, she heard us!" Sandy imagined the woman standing in 
the doorway watching them suck on each other's ass and tell each other how 
good each tasted. He pictured the woman looking like his own mother, or like 
his stepmother. Christ, it was incredible. "Let me go." 

Alexis let him go, and Sandy sat up, looking toward the closed door. He 
could hear water running down the hallway. 

"So, what're you going to do now?" Alexis asked. "She's getting ready for 
bed, but if you want to meet her now, I'll introduce you." 

"Christ," Sandy said, his head still spinning inside. "She saw us doing it!" 

Alexis slid over the edge of the bed and put his arm around Sandy. "She does 
it herself- with men. She's walked in accidentally while I've been getting 
fucked more times than I can remember. She doesn't care. If anything, she's 

happy for me. I told you, she says I was born with a hard-on." 

Sandy was beginning to believe that Alexis' mother had actually said that. 
He looked at Alexis, speechless. 

Alexis kissed his nose. "Look, buddy, if you're going to be my lover and 
live here with me you'll have to get over being so jumpy." 

"Live here with you? Are you out of your mind?" 

"You said we were lovers." 

"Yeah, but-" You can't be serious, Sandy thought to himself as he was 
speaking. But another part of himself was hoping more than anything that 
Alexis was being serious, was hoping more than anything that such a 
situation would be possible. 

"Don't you wanna be my lover?" 

Christ, was Alexis for real? When he talked about being lovers was he 
actually being serious? 

"Yeah, I wanna be your lover," Sandy said, starting to beat his cock because 
just talking like this was getting him so excited he could hardly stand it. 

Alexis sat there gazing into Sandy's eyes. He started to beat his own cock. 
His serious face relaxed into one of his dazzling smiles. "Then we're 
lovers," Alexis said. "From now on this is our bed, and this is our 
apartment." 

"But what about your mother?" 

Alexis looked mischievous. "You'll like her, and I know she'll like you." 

"Look, if this is all a joke, tell me now, because if I find out later-" 

"No joke," Alexis said, pulling Sandy down to the bed. 

"What about your dad?" 

"Told you before-I never had a dad. I'm a bastard-a cock-sucking bastard. 
How about that?" 

Sandy wrapped himself around Alexis, his heart banging, warm tears in his 
eyes. "I like it." 

They kissed, their long cocks sliding against each other between them. Sandy 
felt like jumping out of his skin. 

"Hey, you cock-sucking bastard," Sandy said, "lets suck some cock." 

They giggled as they stretched out on their sides next to each other in the 
sixty-nine position. They stuffed each other's rampant cock into their 
mouths, munching loudly as they pulled their bodies close together and 
stroked each other's smooth skin with their free hands. 

You wonderful boy, Sandy thought, flopping his tongue around and around 
Alexis' bloated prickhead. You're mine now. I've been looking for you all my 
life, and I don't even know it. I want to eat you. I want to be you. And I 
want you to be me. 

They moaned in unison, their heads bobbing, their lithe young bodies 
writhing. The bedspread felt like Warm, fuzzy skin under Sandy. A warm 
breeze flowed in through the m 

window, bathing them both. They were both sweating now, and their boy-scents 
were beginning to radiate from them. Sandy rubbed his hand all around 
Alexis' smooth nuts, getting it all wet with Alexis' ball-sweat. He rubbed 
the ball-sweat on his face, under his nose, up into his nostrils. The aroma 
of young-male intoxicated him. He sighed loudly, sucking, slurping, munching 
Alexis' big cock while Alexis did the same with his cock. Alexis was a damn 
good cocksucker. Sandy could feel his balls pull up tight with each deft 
manipulation of Alexis' lips and tongue. 

Their heads bobbed faster and faster. They both moaned and groaned and 
sighed so loudly that Sandy knew for certain now that Alexis had been 
telling the truth about his mother. It really was cool with her that her son 
was in here sucking another boy's cock. They were making so much noise that 
even in the bathroom or in her bedroom down the hall she couldn't help but 
to hear them. And if this whole thing wasn't cool with her, then the noise 
they were making was enough to drive her screaming into this room to demand 
that they stop. But she was leaving them alone. 

Sandy jerked his hips faster, fucking his cock in and out of Alexis' hot, 
sucking mouth. The faster he fucked, the faster Alexis fucked. Their cocks 
fucked deeper into each other's throat. Sandy was astounded at how easily 
Alexis' cock was fucking in his own throat now. The silky little sprig of 
blond hair at the base of Alexis' cock began to tickle Sandy's lower lip. 
Sandy inhaled the pleasant boyish aroma of Alexis' balls. All nine inches of 
Alexis' cock fucked into Sandy's face now, and Alexis' baby-smooth balls 
throbbed against Sandy's nose. 

Sandy fucked his own cock deep into his lover's throat, churning his ass, 
grinding his own silky groin-hairs at Alexis' lower lip and his balls at 
Alexis' nose. He felt a contraction in his balls. Thrills swirled through 
his cock. Hot cum shot through his pisstube. He heard Alexis choking, then 
swallowing and gurgling. Sandy's eyes rolled back with pleasure. 

Sandy was oozing the last of his cum into Alexis' throat when Alexis 
exploded down his own throat. For a moment he gagged, his throat unready for 
the forceful spurts. But then his throat adjusted, and he sucked greedily, 
swallowing throatful after throatful of hot, sweet cum. He imagined the cum 
flooding his stomach, digesting, becoming a part of his own flesh. He and 
Alexis would becomed a little bit of each other now, the same 
flesh-brothers. 


THE END
