Warning, this story may contain explicit descriptions of sexual acts between boys of various ages and/or men and boys. If this is not to your tastes, please leave now.

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( andy_dick35@hotmail.com )

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Chris Carr's Chocolate City

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All This Time

By Chris Carr




For the third time that morning, Keone rolled over, refusing to release his hold on the bed. He knew he'd have to get up, eventually, but damned if he wouldn't give up without a fight. School was out, his mother had left for work, he'd earned this luxury, and intended to enjoy it as long as possible.

Tossing again, he lay on his stomach, pinning his piss-hardon between his body and the mattress. Clutching his pillow, he slowly pushed his pelvis into the bed. Incredible sensations rocketed from his midsection, radiating throughout his body causing him to repeat his slow thrust. This time he heard himself exhale. Grating his erection across the covers again, he accepted his fate. His limited experience with things sexual had taught him at least one thing, you don't argue with a hard dick.

Allowing himself one last pelvic thrust, Keone turned onto his back. Lifting the covers, he gazed at the wonder, throbbing between his legs. Gripping it, he squeezed, marveling at the bead of pre-cum materializing at its head. At the tender age of 13, he'd discovered his dick could do more than pee, and ever since he'd learn to jack off, Keone couldn't get enough. Pulling the foreskin snapped tight around the head back, Keone felt his balls constrict, snuggling in close to his body. Slipping the foreskin over the head, he relished in the rush of feelings issuing from his sensitive glans. Keone had tried to prolong these incredible sensations a hundred times, to no avail. Eventually his willful dick would win out, forcing him to wring the life out of it, leaving him empty… longing. Relenting, he started the ritual, old as time, whipping his hand about the head of his dick. Like clockwork, his pelvis started thrashing about, slinging his dick into his beating hand. His breathing became rapid, his chest rising and falling as his pace increased. His hand slapping wickedly across the head of his dick, his stomach quivered, and his body became tensed.

"Aww!" he grunted, his toes curling.

"Ssss… Aww!" The age-old sounds, familiar as the feelings, accompanied his fast approaching climax. Holding the covers high, he gazed at his dick, his clutching hand extracting the precious juices. Writhing about on the bed, he delivered, droplets of spewing cum onto his quivering stomach. They oozed from his dick, and dribbled into his pubic hair. Held in the power of his climax, Keone moaned loudly, glad for the solitude of his little home. Squeezing the last drops from his dick, he finally regained a sense of coherency: when you're this young, getting off could be gut wrenching.

Panting and sweating, he flung the covers back, surveying the mess he'd made. He hated this part. He sat up, traveled to the bathroom, opting to shower the mess off. Setting the water temperature to his liking, he stepped under the tap. He still had a hard-on, but this had nothing to do with sex. Relaxing his muscles, he watched as a heavy stream of urine arched from his hard dick, mingling with the water from the shower. Damn, if that didn't feel good! Soaping up, he quickly cleaned up, the excitement of enjoying a free day increasing.

Stepping out the shower, Keone was captured by his reflection in the mirror. Although he wasn't that tall, his body, was well proportioned to his size. Turning his short 5'6" frame about, he delighted in what he saw. Slowly raising his hand he caressed his beautiful, cocoa brown chest, tracing his fingertips across the budding muscles. Glancing at his reflection, Keone became very aroused at the sight of his full, ruby lips sucking his finger. Sensuously fingering his wet finger across the surface of the hardening nipple, his dick grew hard again. Moving his hand down, he caressed his stomach, pleased with the gentle ripple of taught abdominal muscles. At his pubic bush, he seductively played with the curly hairs, pleased with the amount of growth there. But it was his demanding dick, standing at attention between his legs to which he was eventually drawn. Turning sideways, he admired the rigid profile of his extended dick. He'd compared his growth with other boys his age and at nearly 7 inches, he felt pretty adequate. Sliding his foreskin back again, he felt his balls contract. His taut dick swelled in his hand. How was it possible his dick was ready for another session so soon? He'd often wondered how many times he could get off in one day, and always vowed to try, but never got around to it.

Willing himself to stop, Keone quickly dressed, his sensitive body prickling as his clothes covered it. His dick still semi-hard, he pried himself from the mirror exiting to the kitchen. Damn! "10:00 o'clock," he panicked, rushing out the door. Jumping on his bike, he bounded for the neighborhood pool. Another boy approaching him on foot, Keone refused to give up his hold on the sidewalk, barreling towards him. The other boy held his ground until the last possible minute, eventually sidestepping Keone's unrelenting attack in the nick of time. Hell yeah, he rallied. Nigga betta recognize! Smiling at his small victory, he happened upon his friend Russell.

" 'Sup?" he said, pulling his bike alongside the boy.

"Hey Keone. Where you goin'?"

"To the pool."

"Ooh, for real? What you goin' there for?"

"Jordie said, since I'm 16 this year, I probably can work there."

"Dang, can I come too?"

"You only 15."

"I know, but can I come too?"

"A'ight. Hop on."

Pulling up at the pool, Keone observed there was a group of kids already waiting for the doors to open. Ignoring their objections, he steered his bike directly to the front of the line.

"Yo, Kenny, Jordie in there?"

A slight boy, busy behind the steel grated window, turned and hollered for Jordan. When he appeared in the window, Keone pushed through the kids crowded around it.

"Hey Jordie, what's happening? So, you got me hooked up, B?"

"Me too," Russell added, nudging in beside Keone.

"Y'all come 'round to the side door, a'ight?"

Parking his bike, Keone joined Russell at the side entrance. Jordie opened the door, allowing them to enter.

The neighborhood pool was one of the few community recreations available to children in the inner city. Community programs simply did not abound in the urban jungle, leaving the pool one of few outlets. For the greater part of the summer it would be teeming with children of various ages and ethnic backgrounds, splashing around and frolicking under the baking sun, intent on finding some way to beat the heat. For Keone, it was a means to gain a little financial independence. Pulling Keone aside, the 22 year old complained,

"Yo, shorty, I told you I'd see about getting you a job. What Russell doin here?"

"He met me on the way here, man. I couldn't ditch the nigga," Keone whispered.

"Yeah, well, I'm not sure I can get you work 'round here. You bests to get rid of him, a'ight?"


"You get rid of him, come back to my office," Jordie instructed, leaving the boy.

Turning to Russell, Keone hedged,

"Russell, I guess there ain't enough jobs to go around, man. Sorry, dude"

Russell hunched his shoulders, "S'alright. See you later, man."

Waiting until Russell left, Keone turned and went to Jordie's office.

"Yo, Jordie, my bad man, I'm sorry for bringin Russell, man."

"Don't sweat it, shorty, it's just, I can only hire so many of you young dudes, anyway."

Hopeful, Keone petitioned, "So, you got something for me?"

"Well…" Jordie shuffled papers on his desk, "Just 'bout all the positions have been filled, homey."

"Aw, com'on, Jordie. Can't you let me do SUMPIN 'round here?"

Still looking through papers, he finally offered, "How 'bout you just stop by here every day, and I'll see if I got something for you to do, a'ight?"

"A'ight. How 'bout today, though?"

"Ain't nothin to do today, Keone. Check with me tomorrow, a'ight?"

"Ok," Keone sulked. A beat went by. "Yo, Jordie, what you doing tonight?"

"I got a client I got to meet with tonight, shorty, sorry."

Saddened, Keone stood, murmuring


Exiting the building, he ran into Russell.

"So what he say? You get a job?"

"He not sure. He said all the positions already taken. Dang! I should've came in hear LAST week!" Keone brooded.

Deep in thought, Keone walked his bike down the block, oblivious of Russell's presence.

"Where you goin'?"

"Huh? Oh. Back to my house," Keone stated, finally aware the boy was still trailing. "Why? Where you goin'?" Russell hunched his shoulders.

"Well, then com'on," Keone motioned, accepting Russell's desire to tag along.

Opening his back door, Keone followed Russell into his vacant house. Entering through the kitchen door, Russell noted that the sink was full of dirty dishes. In the living room, the boy's sat down, instinctively turning on the TV, the local neighborhood sitter. There was a newsbreak on, coverage of yet another police chase transpiring. The freeway capital of the world, Los Angeles TV was constantly bombarded with car chases.

"They get on my nerves showing these police chases all the time," Keone griped.

"This fool is crazy! Look at the way he weaving in and out of traffic"

"Ain't gon' last long. He a fool."

"Where he goin'?"

"Bad move, he getting off the freeway."

"He better slow down…"

"AWWW!" the boy's groaned simultaneously, the car plowing into a wall.

"Look at that mother fucka, he jumping out the car!" Leaning forward, the pair watched intently as the 'would be' robber sprinted wildly down the street.
"What's that flying out his pockets?" Keone said.

"This fool running with his pockets full of money!"

"Look, at THAT! It's flying all over the place!"

Before long it was all over, the announcer commenting that the suspect was being taken into custody. Hand cuffed, the man was escorted to a waiting police car and summarily deposited inside it. The commentator gave a wrap up and an episode of Lucy returned to the TV, her nose on fire. While Keone was delighted to see the zany redhead, Russell wasn't interested.

"You always watching that lame girly shit, man," Russell kidded.

"Lucy ain't girly shit, nigga."

"Yeah it is. And I seen you watching that other girly shit, too.


"That ol' tired, girly, talk show you be watchin. What's it called, 'The View' with Barbara Walters," he mocked in a syrupy voice, waving his hand effeminately. "You didn't think I noticed it, but last time I was over here, you had it on." Alarmed, Keone changed the channel, arguing,

"I don't be watching that all the time. Besides, ain't nothin wrong with watching news shows. You just don't know nothin but that stupid WWW stuff, nigga."

In his best, 'girlfriend' voice, his wrist limp, Russell teased, "Oh yeah, I just gots to watch that so I can know how to do my nails, Miss Thang."

The boys chuckled, the mood lightening.

"You stupid," Keone snickered.

Changing the subject Russell inquired, "What you want a job at the pool so for?"

"Cause I'm tired of being broke man. Ain't you tired of always being broke?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Besides, I ain't gon' be like the rest of these fools."

"What fools?"

"I mean, like… Like La Vel, and them. Always selling dope, and goin' to jail, and shit."

"Yeah, but them nigga's be gettin paid."

"I'ma get paid too, just not that way."

"Yeah, that's right," Russell attested.

"I just need to get that job, first," Keone muttered, deep in thought.

Growing tired of money talk, Russell inquired,

"Hey man, you gots anything to eat?"

"Huh? Oh, I dunno."

"Ain't you got some chips or somethin?"

"Hold up." Reluctantly, Keone entered his kitchen, irked by the way Russell was always bumming food. Finding an open bag of Doritos he returned to the living room, tossing the bag to the boy. Russell tore the bag open, shoveling handfuls of chips in his mouth.

"Dang, nigga! Why you always eating?"

"I, 'nt, 'lways, ee-in!" Russell mumbled, his mouth crammed with chips.

"Yeah, right! Y'all go over Eric's last night?"

"Um, huh" Russell mumbled. Swallowing, he questioned, "Where'd you go, last night?"

"I was trying to hook up with Jordie. What y'all do?"

"Went over to the park and played some ball"

"Them little ho's was up there?"

"All night."

"Any y'all go behind the bathrooms with them?"

"Hell yeah. I was the first one!"

"Nigga, you lying!"

"No shit. La Vel wudn't there, and you know, Zooney too chicken to try any shit, and Rashawn ain't gon' be bonin no ho's anyway."

"Which one you took?"



"Ain't nobody was up there but her and that other ugly bitch, Tachya, and Eric took her. "

"Aw, shit," Keone laughed. "So what you did, nigga?"

"You know, got my swerve on, nigga!" Russell said, standing to punctuate his proclamation with a lewd gyration of his pelvis. Keone said nothing, allowing the boy his moment of glory.

"We was all grindin and shit, then my dick got all hard," he continued.

Keone observed that as he talked, his hand moved to his groin, his dick rising in his shorts as he rubbed it. The sight of the boy groping his lengthening dick was more enticing than his exaggerated account of last night's proceedings. Russell continued,

"She was feelin all on it and I took it out. She drops down and swallowed the mother fucka, whole!"

"Damnnnnn!" Keone whined, his dick hardening.

"Bitch wouldn't let go till she had a mouthful of cum."

Following the code of the street, Keone offered his regrets over not being there, when in actuality, he had no interest in letting some horny street girl swing on his dick. His past involvement with the opposite sex was purely MATERIAL evidence of his heterosexuality; an orientation that he strove to affirm at all times. It was no wonder then that hearing his friend's recite they're sexual exploits was always a conflicting experience. He'd grow aroused when they spoke of their participation in the act, hating that it was hearing about his friends erect members that had caused him to respond. Every nigga be thinking 'bout dick, they just too scared to admit it, was his shaky defense.

The boys hung out the rest of the afternoon, playing cards, and watching TV, Russell munching in between on whatever he could find, while Keone found every excuse he could think of to keep the conversation on his favorite topic… sex. Around 4:00 p.m. Russell announced he had to leave, Keone walking him to his front gate. No sooner he'd left, however, Keone had the unexplainable urge to take a bath.

Running a tub of hot water, he slowly undressed, lingering before the bathroom mirror over each piece of clothing. The tub having filled, he lowered himself into it, wincing at the biting heat of the water. Reclining, he spread his legs, the water stinging his balls and exposed ass. His dick bobbing just above the water soon filled, rising to a raging hard-on. As he lay, his mind wandered, recalling Russell's account of last night's affairs. Russell always exaggerating, he thought. Lying 'bout that bitch swallowing his cum. That nigga was lucky if that bitch let him finger fuck her. Sho'd like seeing that nigga getting his dick sucked though, if he did.

The image of Russell's dick, throbbing hard, enveloped the boy causing his dick to grow painfully hard. Sitting up, Keone rummaged around in the nearby cabinet beneath the wash basin, until he found the big 11x14-inch mirror his mother kept there. Lying down, he positioned the mirror so that he could see his dick and ass.


Wonder why niggas always talking bout pussy? They gots ta be just talking cause, ain't nobody THAT interested in playin wit that shit all the time. Raising his feet up, water dripping off them, Keone spread his legs, resting his feet atop the walls of the tub. Holding the mirror over his body, he gazed at his dick, his hanging balls, and his widespread ass. It thrilled him to see the way his dick would rise and fall when he'd pull on his balls. From the very first change in his body, his left ball mysteriously dropping in his case, Keone had developed an obsession with exploring and looking at his body. How come everybody cain't be interested in this shit?

His dick was so hard now, it stood up and away from his body, throbbing, dripping, further inflaming the boy's passion. Watching it hovering there over his abdomen, Keone knew he wouldn't last long once he started, so he tried prolonging his pleasure by not touching it. Lowering his hand between his legs he repositioned the mirror as he spread his ass cheeks with his free hand. The sight of his virgin asshole reflected in the mirror heightened the fire within him. Slowly, he rubbed his finger over his asshole, electric charges coursing through his body. It was at this time he always felt somewhat feminine. Realizing the time was short, he forewent any further experimentation with his fiery asshole and returned to his pleading dick. Not wanting to blow his load so fast, Keone gently tugged at his foreskin, sensations flowing through his midsection, as he deliberately capped and uncapped the sensitive head of his dick with the skin.

Pulling it back slowly, his balls drew up tight. Moaning, he slowly pulled it back up over his inflamed head. Even the moist sound of his foreskin slipping back and forth over the head of his dick, sent chills through his body. Despite his efforts, his dick went stone hard in his hand and before he knew it, his toes were rapping around the edge of the tub as it leaped in his hand, strands of thick, pungent boy juice flying from his dick and painting his torso. It never occurred to him that he shot twice as much after hearing one of his friend's sexual encounters. He just knew he desperately needed to feel what he was feeling now, his orgasm gripping him, the force of it almost pulling his wiggling toes up through his spurting dick. Once his flow had ebbed, Keone lay there, panting for a couple of minutes, then quickly splashed water over his cum laden chest and groin, rinsing his jism away. Why can't I have that feeling all day long, he thought, standing to dry himself?

Stepping out the tub, he glanced at his fog-distorted image in the mirror. Hurry up fool, he thought, distracted, you know how stupid it feels to get caught! Shaking the cobwebs from his head, he mustered the will to towel off, tipping through the house naked, the exhibition exciting him. Closing the door to his room, he sat on his bed, looking at his dick. Tugging the foreskin back again, exposing his fiery pink head, he moaned, quickly checking the clock. Accepting that there wasn't enough time, his hand reluctantly released his dick. Opening his dresser drawer he grabbed a pair of shorts, pulling them on his body, opting to go bare beneath them. Slipping a T-shirt on, he found a pair of his sneakers, and stuck his bare feet into them. Sprinting back to the bathroom, he quickly combed his hair, searching his reflection in the mirror for any traces of his recent sexual activity. Satisfied he looked decent, he did a quick spot-check on the house. Placing his mother's vanity mirror in the cabinet, he picked up his damp towel, hanging it neatly on its rack, and rinsed the tub. Just as he entered the kitchen, the front door opened. Whew!


"Yo, in here!"

"Run to the car for me, baby, I got some bags in there I need you to get."

"A'ight." At the car he found two bags of groceries in the trunk. Damn! I was hoping she'd got me something, he fumed. Returning to the house his mother called from her room,

"Put them groceries up for me, Keone." Obeying, Keone placed the various items in the refrigerator, his mother joining him in the kitchen as he finished.

"What you do today?"

"Nothing. I went down there to the pool then I came back home."

"You clean up yo' room?"

"Not yet."

"You ain't cleaned up this kitchen, neither," she fussed. "Keone, long as you off track at your school, you ain't got nothin' to do. Least you can do is clean up some."

Keone hung his head, silent, no reliable defense at his disposal. She was right, because of the overcrowding in Los Angeles city schools, many of the inner High schools were on an alternating 'track' staggering the times that students were off. His off track had just begun a couple of weeks ago, and he'd have the next 10 weeks free, a, sort of, inner city summer vacation.

"Mom, you think you could buy me a pair of them Air Jordan's?" he solicited, hoping to change the subject.

"You done lost yo mind. Where you think I'ma get that kinda money?" Keone hunched his shoulders, dropping his head. He knew his mother could ill afford such extravagant accessories, but, a typical only child, he was quite spoiled.

"Maybe we can go to that Shoe Warehouse and see if they got something on sale. You eat yet?"


"Well, I got some frozen pizza, you want some?"


He watched as his mother went to the fridge and grabbed one of the pizzas he'd just put in there. In addition she grabbed a beer, which he didn't like to see. His mother would no sooner get home and she'd start in on the beer. By bedtime, she'd have a pretty good little buzz on, and he always hated that. She stuck the pizza into the oven, and popping the top on the beer can, exited to the living room. Keone watched her wide frame leaving the kitchen a little sorry for her. He'd seen pictures of her in High School and she'd been a real looker. She told him that she'd gained a lot of weight when she got pregnant with him. Since his father's death she'd really let herself go, her drinking becoming more of a problem. Now she was a little tub, constantly parked in front of the TV, drinking beer and smoking. Seeing her present state left Keone feeling so helpless. He was sorry he'd asked her about the Jordan's. Walking to his room, the sound of the TV blaring in the front room, he sat down. When his mother called him for the pizza, he grabbed a couple of slices and retired to his room, turning on the TV there. Keone stared at the tube, the TV playing its role as surrogate mother, until he dosed off.



Hopeful, Keone peddled his bike down Drexell Ave. Jordie had turned him away three times this week, and he was getting a little discouraged. He kept kicking himself for goofing the start of the summer away, waiting until after the pool had opened to apply. Now all the good positions had been snatched up and he was basically bumming himself a job. At the pool Jordie ushered him in the side door, and he followed him to his office.

"Ok shorty, you can pick the towels and shit up in the locker room today. If I find you anything else for you to do, I'll let you know, a'ight?"


Excited, Keone jumped up.



"How much I'm gon' get?"

"Can't give you nothing but $25 dollars for the day, shorty."


Dang! $25, I'll be till Christmas getting something at this rate!

He wandered into the locker room, his mind whirring on his projected income. A couple of boys, butt naked, were popping each other with their towels. That snapped Keone out of his funk, his attention immediately riveted on the boy's naked asses. Catching himself, he stooped over and snatched up the nearest discarded towel he could find. Dang, fool! You gots to be mo' careful, he derided himself, picking up more towels. When he'd gotten a handful, he dumped them into a nearby hamster. Boys were everywhere, some dressed, some naked. This was going to be a lot harder than he'd anticipated. Turning the corner he ran into the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen. Caramel colored skin greeted him, delectably covering two sinuous columns of boy flesh. A light fleece of hair graced each of these columns just around the calves. This breathtaking beauty was sporting a pert, budding boy chest, its brown nipples sitting out, begging to be suckled. Against his better judgement, Keone completed his quick survey with a scan of the boy's bulge, tucked away in a pair of tight briefs. Before he could get himself together, those tight briefs were pulled down and off the boy's body, Keone suddenly suffering a loss of air, in turn. Looking into the face, he was shocked to see his buddy Rashawn! Pulling his briefs off his feet, he stood, casually greeting the flushed boy.

" 'Sup, Keone?" Reigning in his scattered thoughts Keone answered,

" 'Sup, Shawn?"

"So, what you doing here?"

"I got a little part time job here."

"No shit, what for?" Rashawn quipped, tossing his briefs into his locker. Presenting his full round asscheeks to the boy, Rashawn pawed through his locker for a pair of swimming trunks.

"Just tired of being broke all the time."

Keone prayed the boy would soon dress, his dick stirring in his shorts.

"How long you been here?" he asked, hoping to distract himself.

"I just got here. I was goin' to take a swim."

Yeah, I can see that, he thought, scanning the boy's body again. Damn! This nigga is built!

"Well, check you later," Rashawn said, pulling on his trunks.

"A'ight." Tearing himself away, Keone conceded, I ain't gon' make it.



"Yo! Back here." Jordie rounded the corner, entering the back storage room.

"Not bad, shorty. Just make sure to keep the floor picked up, a'ight?"


"And get that water hose back there, and rinse it down every once in a while, too."
"Ok." Pausing, Keone muttered, "Jordie?"


"What you doing this evening?"

"I'm sorry shorty, I gots to meet with that guy from DigiCom again. Listen, check with me this weekend, a'ight?"



Dang, Jordie is always busy. Grabbing the water hose, Keone hooked it up and proceeded to rinse the locker room floor. By 4:00 o'clock, he'd rinsed it twice and removed more towels than he cared to remember. What really surprised him, however, were the mysterious articles of underwear that had been discarded with the towels. Twice he'd found a pair of boy's briefs. One pair was obviously from a little kid, and he wondered when the little punk noticed he didn't have underwear anymore. The other pair, however, was obviously from an older kid, and when he picked them up, he couldn't resist the temptation to sniff the crouch. The slightest boy funk wafted up from the stained area where the boy's apparently, precum-leaking dick, had rested. This was a treasure he decided to keep, smuggling them into the bottom of his backpack. Soon after 4:00, Jordie met him in the locker room and wrote him out a check.

"What I'm s'posed to do with this?"

"Cash it."


"You ain't got a bank account?"

"Hmm…. Ok, we get together this weekend, I'll cash it for you."


"Ok, shorty. You know, you did real good, real good. Check back with me Monday, I ain't gon' be able to spare no extra cash tomorrow, a'ight?"


Jetting toward his house, Keone pondered whether he'd tell his mom he was working or not. It wasn't because he feared his mother wouldn't let him work, he hadn't told her, he just wasn't ready to share his earnings, yet. At 16, it was still conceivable for him to be totally supported by his mother and he didn't want to mess up a good thing. Dang! 4:30! She'll be home in 30 minutes. Lacking the time for his bath ritual, Keone locked himself in his room. Snatching his clothes off, he jumped on his bed and grabbed his backpack. Digging in the bag, he found the briefs and pulled them out. Inspecting the briefs, he turned them inside out, the slight golden stain prominently displayed right in the crotch proving erotic. Little nigga was juicing himself, he thought, sniffing the spot. The scent from the boy's crotch made his dick rise. I wonder who these belong to? Wonder how big his dick is and what was making him juice himself?

Time of the essence, he gripped his dick, tugging at it rapidly, inhaling the tangy aroma of his mystery boy. His dick throbbing in his hand, his imagination sailed on the enticing odor carrying him over the edge, thick strings of his steamy juice suddenly spurting out. Reaching under his bed, he retrieved his cum towel, quickly wiping himself up. He had just enough time to dress and compose himself, before his mother came home.





On a day not unlike the day before, the sound of a noisy police helicopter, circling rudely close, roused him from a deep sleep. Keone threw his pillow over his head, grasping at the last ravages of sleep, desperately trying to block the sound out. The unrelenting helicopter refusing to let up, he finally surrendered his hold on the bed, trudging through the house naked. Parading around the house naked was a stolen pleasure Keone reveled in, the titillation of possibly being seen as he passed the open windows making it even more exciting.

By the time he'd made it to the bathroom, he was stone hard, which presented a problem, as his bladder was begging for release. Turning on the shower, he stepped in, relishing the sensation of his emission jetting into the flow of hot water. Standing under the hot water, he tugged on his foreskin, stretching it past the crown of his dick. He liked feeling his foreskin stretched tight around his dick like that. He'd tug on it often this way, sometimes unconsciously, stretching and manipulating it.

His dick never lost its erection and soon, the feel of the hot water pelting his raw dick was getting to him. An idea came to him, and he retrieved the water massage his mother had bought. Switching the flow to power massage, Keone aimed it at his throbbing dick. The sensation was incredible, and he cursed himself for not thinking of this before. His knees grew weak beneath him, and he had to lie down before his wobbling knees gave way. Spreading his legs extra wide, he aimed the nozzle at his asshole. Again, the sensation was unbelievable, his asshole quivering and contracting. Damn! I been missing out!

Extending his dick so that it towered from his groin, he re-aimed the flow, skinning his foreskin back. The hot water pummeling his exposed glans was overwhelming. His eyes rolled up in his head, and his mouth gaped open, but he couldn't make any sounds. In the midst of all the stimulation rushing over him, the onset of his orgasm was almost enough to make him pass out. Doubling over in sheer ecstasy, his leaping dick spurted, ropes of thick steamy boy juice squirting out. Damn! I can feel it all in my balls! The pulsing water massage never yielded, slamming water over his sensitive dick head, washing away his cum as it leaped out.

His issue forced from his body, Keone lay back, exhausted. GODDAMN! was all his befuddled mind could muster. That was fucking incredible! Looking at the still pulsing water massage he thought, is that what this thing is for? Taking a few more minutes before his unsteady legs could support him, he finally stood, finishing his shower.

Drying off, he returned to the front room, plopping down on the sofa in front of his mother's sacred TV. Keone hated days like this when he had nothing to do. Turning the TV on, he lay on the couch, enjoying the sensation of its cloth against his naked body. His constantly roving hands searched and probed every part of his body as he watched, unconsciously tugging at his foreskin. Sometimes, Keone was a little troubled by how fixated he was with his body and how often he masturbated. Was this normal, he'd question? Growing tired of the TV, he rose and went into his room, the sudden ringing of the phone coming as somewhat of a surprise.


"WADUP, nigga!"


Oh great, it was La Vel!

" 'Sup, La Vel?"

"Got a li'l sumpin, sumpin I think you gon' like over here. When can you stop by?"

"Was heading out the door now."

"A'ight. See you in a few."

Keone hung the phone up, troubled. Because La Vel wielded a measurable degree of influence in his hood, Keone had formed a tentative 'friendship' with him, hoping to avoid conflict. He wasn't that crazy about La Vel as much as he needed the boy's favor. The 'sumpin sumpin' he mentioned, no doubt referred to a new batch of weed he'd gotten, or even worse, a new girly flick! Dressing in his trademark shorts and T-shirt, sans underwear again, he slipped his bare feet into his sneakers, jumping on his bike. Turning right at the corner, he headed south toward La Vel's house.


"Who is it?"

"It's me, Keone. Open up!"

The door flung open, and Keone was greeted by La Vel's dick! Aw, shit, La Vel got on that flimsy old bathrobe again.

"Damn nigga, why don't you ever close that thing?"

"Huh?" the boy said, looking down.

"You think I wants to be looking at yo dick first thing in the morning?"

"Nigga shut up!" La Vel snapped, pulling his robe closed. Stepping past the boy, Keone entered his small apartment.

"Where's everybody at?"

"My brother gone to that day camp, and my sister at her friend's house."

"Yeah, so what you doing today?"

"Just chillin. Sit down. Take a load off. You want something to drink?"

"Yeah, what you got?" Stepping into the apartment's modest kitchen La Vel called,

"I got some O.J., and some Pepsi, and some Old English, if you want. You want some?"

"Pepsi'll do, a'ight?"

"A'ight, hold up."

Grabbing a couple of cans, La Vel returned to the living room. Keone couldn't help noticing his robe had flung open again, exposing his dangling dick. Why I come over here? he stressed. He knew La Vel thought nothing of parading around half-naked in front of him, despite his constant requests for him to cover himself. How was it possible for a 17-year-old boy to be so comfortable exposing himself? Handing him a soda, La Vel joined him on the couch.

"So did you get yo li'l JOB?" the boy taunted.


How'd La Vel know he was looking for a job?

"Yeah, I started yesterday. How'd you know I was lookin for a job."

"You can get anything you want off da streets, nigga. You just gots to know where to look."

"Oh," Keone said, impressed.

"So what you gon' do with all that money, kid?"

"Don't start, La Vel."

"I wudn't gon' say nothing. It's just, like I say, when you ready to make some real money, you can hook up with me and Kilo, nigga, 'stead 'working' fo them pennies you get at that pool."

Keone chose to not engage the boy, weary from the constant arguments they'd had over his decision to make an honest living.

"I get a few minutes free, though, I might drop by there," La Vel continued.

"You ain't gon' to do nothing but sit in here all day."

"Fo'get you nigga."

La Vel took several gulps from his soda, and sat back on the couch. Keone fought the compulsion to sneak a look at his crotch, certain his flimsy robe would be open again. When he found the desire to look nevertheless, intensifying, he inquired as to why La Vel had invited him over.

"Oh yeah! Check! I gots a new flick from my boy Silk, man!"


I knew it, Keone snorted, and this idiot got the nerves to be all happy 'bout it!

"No kiddin?"

"Yeah! So you want to see it or not?"

"Sure, why not?"

Waiting as the boy ran to his room, Keone tried to get in the mood.

La Vel returned with a box emblazoned with buxom women all surrounding a black guy with an enormous dick. Does he need a license for that thing? Popping the film in the VCR, La Vel plopped down next to Keone commenting,

"You gon' like this one, nigga. Me and Trey was 'bout ta nut up when we watched it t'other day! It's mo' fine bitches in here than you can count!"

"That's what you always saying."

"You just too picky, that's all."

The VCR kicking in, the boys watched as Jed Clampet's face transformed into a busty white woman, writhing on the aforementioned Black man's dick.

"God damn! Look at that bitch ride that thing," La Vel rallied.

Sitting back he cocked his legs, his robe falling open, revealing his smooth chocolate colored legs. This was where the routine always got a little sticky for Keone. Seeing the boy's exposed legs, and knowing that he was getting aroused from watching the film, made Keone uncomfortable. He quickly refocused his attention on the film. How can anybody get hot looking at this shit, he thought, amazed at how distasteful the woman's jiggling tits were? Out the corner of his eye, he caught La Vel casually rubbing his dick. From the looks of it, his friend was getting rather stimulated from the scene unfolding on his TV.

The woman had jumped off the man, now, the man grabbing his dick. The woman moved between his legs and started sucking on his dick, the monster eventually exploding all over her face.

"Look at that bitch suck that dick," La Vel sighed. "She getting me all hot, man."

La Vel made a big show of rubbing his dick, his long pipe now erect. Keone worried he might start sweating, his body temp rising considerably. Seeing the imprint of La Vel's dick through his frail robe riveted Keone to the couch, his curiosity getting the best of him. He just HAD to see La Vel's dick, now!

"Dang, man, look. I'm getting all hard!"

La Vel pulled his robe back, his dick lying against his thigh. Keone took his obligatory look, forcing himself to not linger.

"You getting hard?"

"Yeah," Keone croaked.

"Told you this film was hot, nigga."

La Vel was so stimulated, he could hardly get the last words out, his voice wavering as he spoke. Praying he was looking at the TV, Keone chanced another look at the boy's exposed dick. His heart leaped in his throat when he saw that La Vel hadn't covered it yet. Salivating, he gawked at La Vel's dick, pulsing against his thigh. A small trickle of precum was oozing from it, enticing him. Unaware that he was staring, Keone fell hopelessly deeper and deeper.

"You like that, don't you?" La Vel taunted, grabbing his dick.

Jumping up Keone exclaimed, "Nigga you crazy!"

La Vel was stunned by the boy's reaction. Open-eyed, he retorted

"Nigga you buggin! I was just messin with you."

"You sick, nigga!" Keone insisted. "I'm outta here!" Slamming the door, he left.


Speeding down the street, his mind was a blur. I can't believe that crazy nigga, he fumed. I ain't never goin' over there with him again. DAMN, I can't believe how crazy that nigga is! Vowing to get the boy back, he eventually dismissed the whole incident. That nigga ain't worth it, he thought. I ain't gon' let him fuck up MY day! Peddling along, the wind in his face, Keone calmed himself.

Aware he was hungry, he headed for the local store. Crossing the street, he ducked through an abandoned lot heading for Chang's liquor. Exiting the lot onto a major thoroughfare, he peddled down the sidewalk, cars whizzing by. A couple of blocks further, he crossed a major intersection and cycling through the parking lot, parked in front of the old store. Pushing through the old turnstile, he found the snack section and grabbed a bag of chips and a package of Twinkies. Adding a pint of orange Snapple, he headed for the counter.

"Two dolla fiddy nine cents," the woman behind the counter mumbled. Looking into the old woman's creased face, he paid the money, exiting to a small park adjacent the old store.

His thoughts returned to La Vel's irrational actions. I wonder if that punk is a fag or something, he pondered. He sho' got a big dick though. As he crossed the park, he munched on the Twinkies and chips washing them down with the Snapple. Dang, where everybody at? Enjoying the solitude, Keone sat his bike down and walked onto the grass. The sun sat almost directly over him, beaming down uninvited heat upon his head, he gazed into the sky. Sprawling upon the grass, nowhere in particular to go, Keone commenced a little game he frequently played.

Imagining he was a bird, he closed his eyes, picturing himself soaring high above the treetops. His heart racing, he fancied himself flying over his neighborhood, observing all the sites below. He'd be truly free! Not just free to leave his house, or stay there, if he pleased, but free to fly high and far! Imagining himself that free always thrilled him, lifted him. Opening his eyes Keone sat up and looked around, the grim reality of where he actually was a downer. Ain't gon' always be like this, he vowed, standing and walking to a nearby dumpster. As he stood over it to throw his trash inside, something caught his eye. It was a magazine of some sort, it's label screaming at him from beneath a discarded beer bottle. Rummaging around in the can, Keone extracted the mysterious magazine.




The vivid red letters held him, his mind racing until he saw a prime example of what 'RAMJETS' meant beneath. A young black boy, not much older than himself, stood completely naked, his hands proudly folded over his chest, his dick so stiff, it could've very well taken flight! Keone's eyes grew ten times their size as he stared at the handsome boy sporting a raging hard-on for all to see. Glancing around to make sure he was alone, Keone looked back down at the magazine clutched in his hands and made a split second decision. Tucking it into his shorts, he jumped on his bike peddling like a mad man to his house.

In the few minutes it took him to make the trip back home, he'd gotten rather hot at the prospect of looking at his ill-gotten treasure. Thankfully, he didn't encounter any of his knucklehead friends on his journey, eventually darting into the back door of his house. Rushing to his room, he dropped onto his bed, pulling the magazine from his pants. Flipping it open, an unexplainable rush gripped him, as he looked at another boy, also naked. This boy was also black and sat atop a counter. His knees were pulled up to his chest, his legs splayed open and his dick was ridiculously hard.


Damn! Look at this mother fucka! I can't believe it! He'd heard about jack-off magazines, but never considered one with boys in it! Turning the page, he heard himself audibly gasp. The boy sprawled on the bed, his dick towering from his groin in all its grandeur was breathtaking. His dick literally jumped in his shorts, pushing them up, a small circle of his precum wetting them. What the fuck is this, he fumed, flipping to check the back cover, puzzled. Who would make a magazine like this? And who is these boys? They fags? Finding no clues, he flipped it back open, perusing its pages again. His eyes stopped on an ad soliciting models.


"Think you got what it takes to become a RAMJET?"

"Send your stats in and let's see!"


An address was attached, along with a form complete with an entry for dick size, and dick circumference! The address was local, but Keone wasn't familiar with the area. Did people really measure their dicks, and even more confusing, do they send the information in to some strange address? It was rather baffling to him, his young mind trying to comprehend it all. Searching on, he came across another add that caught his attention. It featured an older white guy, his dick enveloped in some kind of device. Reading on he discovered the device was some kind of electronic dick massager.

The device promised orgasms that would knock your socks off and, by the look on the man's face, his body apparently in the throes of one those monster orgasms, it delivered! Did this mean there were others who played around with their dicks the way he did? Where were these people, and were they all white? For a quick instant Keone was tempted to write to the address to pose his questions, but thought better of it. Reaching the back of the magazine he found a bevy of personals all centering on sex. He didn't get what they meant because they were describing themselves in some strange encrypted language. Weird acronyms proclaimed GWM, ISO, and there were HIV statuses, weights and heights. Others actually spoke of a mailbox number to call increasing his enchantment with this new medium.


These mother fuckas talking 'bout sucking yo' dick, he pondered, enthralled. The possibilities excited him to no end. Another ad heralding the wonders of a totally foreign device riveted the boy's attention. It appeared to be cylindrical with a tapered head, and a lip on the other end. The pointy head of the device suggested it was for some body orifice, but Keone couldn't imagine which one. There was a wire attached to it with a control of some kind. "Batteries included!" the ad declared. Underneath the device, prominently displayed, were the words,

"Ass Tickler!"



That's for your ass?!! What the hell for? He read on eventually discovering that the device was made to be inserted into the ass and could vibrate, too! Mother fucka 'spose to ram that shit up his ass??!! This was all too much for the boy. Sure, he'd rubbed his ass while jacking off, but ramming something up it? He couldn't imagine it.

The continual sexual input had whipped him into a state of near frenzy, his erection throbbing the whole time. His world had just grown, tremendously, and Keone was filled with new fantasies, from men sucking on his aching dick, to 'Ass Ticklers' rammed up boy's asses. Stripping, he walked to his closet mirror, and turned his back to it. Bending over, he spread his ass cheeks, peering through his legs at his asshole. Keone tried to imagine the anal device sticking out his asshole, but had no reference for it.

Standing, he noticed it was close to 4:00 already. Remembering his promise to clean his room, he sprawled across his bed, intent on relieving himself. Personals floated through his head as he stroked.

"Strut your stuff in a park? An alley? On the Street? Call me!"

"Slim young boy… seeks… for oral pleasure."

"Let's blow each other."

"Fuck my ass!"

"Oooh!" His moans surprised him. His body convulsed, and for an instant, he saw La Vel's dick. He groaned, hating his fantasy as he shot his load. Panting, his hand fell to his side, his mind aware that he'd changed somehow.

To be continued...

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Chris Carr's Chocolate City