Date: Tue, 5 May 2020 17:20:18 -0400 From: MC VT Subject: Bad Habit Gay Adult-youth Bad Habit ©MCVT2017 May 1, 2020 Once, at the door to an ABS, I heard honking from the traffic, I turned, waved. Crap, it was the reverend; light turned green and he was gone. That incident inspired me to offer you this tale. Offer a tithe to Nifty today: https://donate.nifty.org/donate.html 100% fiction, adult content, Mb, pros. ============================================================================= Promised myself I wouldn't do it again. Told myself every week, and here I was, going out again. Every Saturday, three in the afternoon: Sandwich, shower, shave there--makes it look longer ya' know. Loose jeans, tee shirt cash folded neatly. Extra tonight. Tickly threads of excitement, anxiety, thrill shoot up through my chest, my brain. Cock know's what's going to happen. Jumpin' all around like when you tell a three-year-old we're going out for ice cream. Not hurtin' no one, I'm helping the economy. Yep, that calms the stab of the rusted blade of guilt that slips between my ribs every Saturday morning. ... Wait in the park, watching the restroom. Same old hawks, few teens. Back to the bar till after ten. Get a newbie if I'm lucky. Maybe Mike, I think was his name; he was on the edge though. That light-skinned Freddy, the sissy-boy, but I liked the lip gloss and what a cute, bent dick. Couldn't afford a debutante tonight although I like `em fresh. Stayed in the local watering hole till night, and aimed my old Silverado toward the strip. Decrepit part of town, empty buildings, seedy apartment buildings, plenty of vacant lots. Always stunk like stale pee and creosote; rail yards ran close. Sidewalks scored every six or eight feet. Rent-boys stood on each score, bunching in twos and threes during the red lights, then spreading out when the cars slowed, johns shopping, hoping for their favorite. Oldest rentals lined the front of the red brick building, further down were the younger boys, last half of the block. They stood in front of boarded up, graffitied plywood over an old bodega, plumbing supply long-gone. I dropped down to second gear. There he was, the boy with the widow's peak, the one who didn't say much. What was his name? Malik, Mike, Monte. No, Marion, "Maree-yohn he told me." Weird. Cruised around the block and stopped near the barred entrance to the dark bodega overhang, "Marion! Hey, Marion." "Mr. Kuul 645." My license plate: KUU645. He approached the passenger side. "Bridge tonight?" Not too far, under the bay bridge in the barrio. At the window, "Same?" "Look." I flipped down the glove box door, "Little more, sweetheart." He glanced around and got in, pulled the bills from the box, folded and tucked them in his pocket. "How much more for what?" He counted the bills. Pulled a thin, flat bottle of lube from under my thigh, "Sixty-five. Warming it up for you." Marion looked out the window as we went several blocks to the waterfront, near the foot of the bridge. "Pull your seat forward, let's get in the back." Blanket already spread, "Sweet Timmy-boy, I been waiting for you." I situated my truck not too far from a tall light on the edge of the parking lot. Tinted windows -- the place was empty. Looked good, no one else; no hassle. Tilted his head, "You want to see how big my cock is daddy?" "Yeah, better check that." He slipped over the seat, I heard him unzip. I had to get out, slipped my jeans off in the dark. Never wore briefs on Saturday, I wanted to get at him; get in him. "Are you making juice yet?" "Uhm, no." He waited for me to lay down, head on the seat, let me watch him push his briefs down, and leaned over my face, grabbing the back of the seat. Pressed his belly, then his groin against my rough stubble. "Beautiful." Had him in my mouth immediately sniffing cherry hand soap from the gas station, smell of sweat. Sucked hard, tugging his nuts, nipping with my lips, biting softly, flicking his foreskin for just a moment before he hardened. "Give it up." I mumbled as my right hand reached around to find his hole. He was breathing hard. Happened when my finger barely entered him. "Now, Daddy." Sounded like he was crying, "Nng, nng, nng." Narrow hips pumped against my face several times. Nothing. Still dry, perfect. Still my boy. "Get your shoes off." My eager dick stood up straight. He stripped, glancing at me, then glanced at my face, "Daddy's easy. It's okay." Wriggled out of his clothes. Straight, smooth body bending, smell of sweaty feet, shoes. "Get the lube." I sat up and got him straddling my lap. "Have you been good?" Kissed his neck and pulled him against my chest, "You know I been waiting a long time." Nipped his ear, "You haven't been playing with the other boys, have you?" "I want to, and they asked me...." he started, "You told me to wait." His big eyes looked into mine, lips slightly opened and he leaned forward. Kissed me and hummed. Tiny, pointed tongue was hesitant, exploring, finding mine. Lined him up on my lap so I could see his face and opened his knees, "Make it hard for me, honey. Tighten up." My dick's not, I lose the thrill of the punch-in if I don't demand, "Make me work for us." My glans was at his hole. "Keep it closed hard." His pucker clenched smaller, his cleft closed, flinched. "That's it." I pushed him back, head on my knees, slicked him quickly and watched my dick. Took my few drops, swabbing at his hole. He grunted a few times, and I pushed hard, concentrating, slipped. One hand holding my dick at him, the other at his shoulder. "You need this, boy. You need a good, hard fuck--you'll love it." The small body wriggled, twisted a little. He held his breath. I shoved again, slipped but stayed at his hole. "Tighter." Sweating, this was the best part. Tight, so tight, made me feel like a champ when I opened him. Closed my eyes, grabbed his hips, looked down and shoved. In, fast. He almost screamed; high-pitched yelp. "Stay tight. Tell me." "I love you." Breathless, almost breathless, face squeezed, he grimaced. "I love you Daddy." "Life ain't easy, boy; love ain't easy. Take it and be glad I'm not cruel." Couldn't think so well, my butt muscles tightened and I shifted. My hands gripped his hip bones. Deep. Deep, so deep, his cool cheeks against my smooth groin; skin stuck together. He was hot and kept his muscles clenched around me, eyes closed, mouth showing teeth gritted. "Tell me." "I love you Daddy. Give it to me, please. Cum." He lifted his feet, putting them on my shoulders while I just pushed deeper, didn't pull out much, just deeper. Put his feet on my chest and tried to push away. Couldn't abide that; he knew I liked a little fight. I pulled him harder to my groin and felt his ass tighten and relax around my shaft. Left hand, palm faced out, had to slip my thumb in him, make it work. It was finally good. Full, filled. He had to like that; I couldn't tell. We stayed at our fuck. This was better than I expected. I was getting' too hot, too fast though. Had to be my thumb with my dick. Wiggled my thumb on his slippery wall. "Better start rubbing." Small white hands went to his straight little dick and he frantically pulled his rod, so fast, hard to see his hands, but that bright red knob was excited, rounded-full and, ready. Twisted his hips a little, pushing my dick, fingers into different territory inside him. Suddenly better, "You like that?" His face wrinkled with his orgasm, my breath was fast watching him, "Daddy, daddy...." Got myself inside him as deep as I could, so wet. Started filling him--oh, shit I couldn't hold back. Around my thumb, I felt overflowing. Dripping down my balls, I kept cumming, grabbed his shoulders and pulled him against me as hard as I could until a drop flew. A drop shot out his slit to his breast bone. What? Felt a loose, wet mess around my dick. Didn't care about that, I had to look at his chest. My dry finger went to the shiny droplet in the dim light, I tasted it. "What the fuck is this? I thought you weren't old enough. You started shooting and didn't tell me?" Stomach tensed, suddenly wanted to vomit. Hated fucking a boy who shot. Filthy mess when they start that. He wasn't a boy. Left hand went to his hair, I pulled his face up, right hand slapped the side of his head hard. Big-eyed, "What's that for?" "You just shot your juice, sperm!" I was ticked, wasted my money. "You didn't tell me." "Because I didn't know--just happened." He looked scared. "You didn't have to hit me." Feisty. He pulled himself away leaving a trail of cum on my leg. Pulled is briefs on. "First time. You jerk, you can't hit me. I'm telling Jerry, he'll kill you." Rubbed the side of his face, tears and snot ran down. "Fuck Jerry. Pimps ain't shit." Saw the corners of the bills sticking out of the boy's pocket, grabbed them. "Hey, that's my money. Give it back!" "You lied." I opened the door, "Get out you slut." "Fuck you and your micro dick." He grabbed his shoes and ran into the dark. Had to walk back to the strip. ... All the way home, I cussed the kid, dammit. Why the hell would I pay good money for filthy man? Little shithead; liar. All the way home, I kept hearing that high, thready voice calling me "daddy." Well, he got part of it right, and he did stay tight, but shootin' like he did. No. He could have told me. He should have told me before he took my money. Yeah, he shoulda told me. ... Next Saturday had a bitter feeling, a gray cast. I was hesitant wondering if there'd be trouble on the strip. Didn't know if I'd get another one, but I had to go. They wanted my cash, gotta help the economy. I just had to be more careful; stay low-profile for a few months. Little bitch Marion, he better not ruin it for me. I dressed, cruised the park, then the bar and couldn't wait much longer. I was at the red light before the strip. Plenty of boys out, warm night. Humid, stinking like a sewer line break close by. Maybe I'd get one to go over to the bridge... I slowed. Small faces turned to the traffic, orangish glow of the street lights lit them warmly. Some with tight shorts, some dressed in character, skater boys, sissy boys, hmmm... ... I slowed when I saw it. On the side of the building in bright, white spray-painted letters, "Mr. Kuul boi-beater." Fifty feet further, above the old bodega, "Kuu465=trouble." I'll be damned. I saw the boys laughing, pointing at me! An adult male, skinny, approached my window. Tossed his head back, I saw his broken teeth, pock-marked skin. Must be Jerry the pimp. Skin was shining in the heat, "C'mon, big man. I'll show you a new trick." He laughed. His spit dotted my window as I put it up. Several boys followed him, Marion and two other boys were at the other window pointing and laughing. Soon a crowd of fifteen-twenty kids and men around my truck. I moved forward slowly, wouldn't be able to get it up tonight, still I scanned the crowd. Other rentals, bigger boys stayed on the curb, snickering, grinning. Didn't make it to the end of the block, something wrong with the truck. in the rear-view mirror, I saw them standing, watching. Got out and looked. Two flat tires; both rear wheels. Got back in and locked the doors. Called a tow truck. Nothing to do but wait. Took almost thirty minutes, but here comes the flatbed. Pulls up ahead of me in the dark. Guy gets out and a knot of boys and pimps gather close to watch him work. Blue shirt, blue slacks, the guy got out with his clipboard and got my license plate number, talked to the kids, smiling as he got the info, glancing around the area. Marion and Jerry talk to him and point at the building, the graffiti. His eyes stopped at the graffiti, the one with my license plate number, then my front bumper. Now the guy had my name, phone number, address and everything on his computer and it was clear what happened. Pull my wallet out, find the card for my customer number, look up and, damn, double damn. It's my brother with his tow truck. "Hey, dickhead, what you doin' over here with the kiddies? Looking for someone your own size?" He chuckled. "How about a cold one down at the Double Eagle? We need to talk money--the hush kind." Hell of a way to break a habit. Fin. MCVT2017@gmail.com