Date: Wed, 14 Jun 2017 00:05:39 +0000 From: Comcast XFINITY® Subject: Bourbon Street Whore BOURBON STREET WHORE By Rev Jesse Penfield Gibson, MDiv, DMin DISCLAIMER: This story involves sex for pay, including with an underage boy. It is fictionalized but based loosely on a real event. It is set in pre-Katrina New Orleans. If you find this offensive, do not read it. If you find it arousing, please enjoy. Complains, compliments and comments to revjpgibson@hotmail.com It was Sunday and I had no expectations of anything. I had gotten beignets at Cafe Du Mond earlier and went to the Imax at the Aquarium of the America's. All perfectly normal tourist things. During the movie, it was popcorn and coke. So I wasn't hungry afterwards. In the gift shop I bought a small New Orleans cook book and headed out, bearing my dainty little gift shop bag, headed back into the French Quarter. But the coke and the coffee was beginning to tell. I needed to piss. Believe it or not, there was a Krystal's in the French Quarter. Krystal's is the southern version of White Castle. Why it would be there is a mystery, like a canvass smeared with feces hanging next to the Mona Lisa. It was incongrous. But it was fortuitous. I duck inside to piss. Ordanarily, my attitude is that there have been times when I bought from Krystal's and didn't piss so they can accomodate the other way once in a while. THey didn't see it that way. There was a sign saying that you had to make a purchase or couldn't use the restrooms. I am pretty sure that they didn't have bathroom police but I complied. I bought a fry and coke. Pissed and ate. Walking out, my bladder relieved, I stepped out into the humid mid day sun. I saw an older man was standing on the sidewalk pissing onto Bourbon Street. A nice golden stream. When he was done, he gave his uncut dick a little shake and put it back in his pants. I needn't have bothered it seems. I haven't been to New orleans in years but back then Bourbon Street was in thirds: coming from Canal St and plunging into the Quarter the straight section was first, then the gay section and then the residential section. It was hot but it was sunny and Sunday and I had nothing to do, so I wandered down the street. There were strip joints with stairs up and then signs directing women one way and men the next. Seemed presumptious to me. I doubted I would have the courage to go the other way. The gay section was next with the Cafe Lafitte in Exile. I stopped in and had a drink before heading on. I wandered into the residential section a ways before turning around and heading back. As I headed toward Canal St again, there was a guy opening the trunk of his care and unloading groceries. He turned toward the curb just as I was passing and we briefly got tangled up, with both of us apologizing. After making way, I headed on. There was a boy sitting on the stoop at the next house or maybe the next one beyond that. Other than briefly checking him out, I wasn't paying him any attention. "Hey," He said. I stopped and turned toward him. "Are you gay?" I paused. That's a question that can be fraught with all sorts of consequences, good or bad. New Orleans is a violent town after all. However, for whatever reason, I answered it honestly. "Yeah I am" I answer. I am carrying a shopping bag from the Aquarium with a cook book in it and I am wandering down Bourbon street alone. Gay. Definitely gay. He looked to the side just for a second. "I don't know, I was thinking maybe you wanted some company for a little while. You know?" "For a price?" "Yeah" I wonder how long I thought about it. A second or two, maybe. Not that long? He was good looking enough, not specatcularly handsome but young and fit. Brown hair, green eyes, fair skin with a hint of acne. Shorts and sleeveless shirt. He's not bad looking by any means, just sort of ordinary. Not sexy enough to be a go go boy, dancing on the bar tops and maybe not old enough either. I briefly weighed the morality of it, the rights and wrongs. But, after all, he is young and I am in my forties and ... "How old are you?" I ask. Maybe it makes a difference and maybe it doesn't. "Nineteen" Well, maybe and maybe not. He could be and then again he could be a mature 15 year old too. I couldn't tell. It didn't really matter, I guess. Either I would or I wouldn't. The truth is that I would. Given the chance, and I was given the chance, I would. But cautiously. I don't want to be killed trying to get a blow job. "I am staying at the Days Inn" I tell him. It is on Canal Street and a couple of blocks up. It is kind of a shit hole. "Okay, we can go there" he says. His name was Walter. I don't guees he made it up. Why would you make up that name? I got a bit of his life story, how much of it true I can only guess. Thrown out for being gay, living on the street for a year. That sort of thing. He asked about my life. I volunteered little. Nobody said anything or even seemed to notice as we went through the lobby and up to my room on the third floor. "How much for what?" I asked him. He quoted prices. "Stop. How about $150 and you do what I say, just vanilla sex nothing kinky, and I end up fucking you. How about that?" "Sure, okay" he said. I nod at him to indicate I want him naked. He peels off the shirt but I have had a pretty good view of his torso all ready. He is lean and there are muscles but not built. A body in the making really, in the process of becoming. Off go the shorts, revealing his black boxer briefs. A nice bulge. Good enough. I pull off my shirt. I, unlike him, have a hairy chest but I am not in the process of becoming. I am a grown man. I get next to him, unbuckle my shorts and step out of them, put my body hard up against his and kiss him hard, open mouth and tongue rammed down his throat. He kisses back. I reach down and yank off his drawers, throwing them to the floor. He isn't hard yet but it is mansized and the pubes are not yet completely filled out, a triangle across his crotch but not yet to the diamond pattern on the complete other side of puberty would have. "How old are you really?" I ask "18" he answered but seems hesitant, almost as if asking if that is the right answer. "Bullshit" "16" he says. I think that is the truth. It is a turn on. Legally, he is not an adult. Not allowed to decide for himself but living alone and forced to. But he has adult desires and can perform in all the ways necessary. I am happy. I ram my hand into crotch, cupping his dick and balls and kiss him hard. He rubs his hands on my muscular body, letting his fingers slide through the hair on my chest. He grows hard in my hand. I sit him down on the edge of the bed and get between his legs. I don't want him to get the wrong idea - I am going to fuck him- but I also want that young meat in my mouth too. It is only average length, probably 6 inches but nice and plump and going onto toward stiff. I take him the whole way down and slide back along the length of it to the very tip, holding that in my mouth as i put forceful suction on it, lifting his dick and pulling it taunt even as my tongue massages the piss slit underneath. "Oh, fuck. That, fuck, that feels good" Walter says. I think to myself that blowjobs done right by a man who knows how to do them feel pretty fucking wonderful. Whether he cums in my mouth or not, though, his ass is getting pounded. But for right now, I gobble him up. I stroke myself, pleasuring my own tool as I suck on his. Big full balls, a musky odor and young dick. Perfect. He is enjoying it too. I run my tongue roughly along the side of the shaft, lick at the tip and then put him back in my mouth. I tug at his balls and he moans in appreciation. It may just be a job for him but there is no reason you can't enjoy your job is there? Sixteen is the age for being a greedy fuck. I was. I even took money to let older married men suck me off in the back room of a gay bar I had no business being in at that age and in that time. I couldn't conceive of a better way to make some money for pot and booze than to shoot my load down some dude's throat. This kid needs the money bad enough to just live that only part of it will go to get fucked up but some surely will and his need for money will not overcome his immediate need for his dick to feel good. So, he rams it down my throat, trying to face fuck me. I'll take some of it from him: he is cute and young and I get it. BUt only so much and not more. I stand up. My hard one is at his head. "Suck it" I tell him. In it goes. He has the rudiments down. Suck, lick and pull. Not bad but not great. Still, I am hard, just at the thought of a real live teenage boy sucking on my cock. I look down and watch him bobbing up and down on it. It is quite the sight. I let him suck me for a while. Just to enjoy it. But I'm not cumming in his mouth. I am cumming in his ass. "Get on your hands and knees." I tell him. "Time to get fucked' I grease him up by finger fucking him. First one and then two and then three, spreading the cool lube all up in his chute. I am still hard as a rock and I slick that up too. I get behind, stick a finger in his ass as a guide and then shove my dick up in there. "Oh God, stop, stop, stop" he cries out. "God, you're big" I stop. He pushes me out. He was tight. He may not be a virgin but he is not an experienced bottom either. "I'll be gentle with you but you want to earn your money, right?" "Go easy" he asked. I did. After all, I want it in. So I go slowly but steadily, all in one smooth motion. I know he is grimacing and bearing it but is tolerating it well. When I get all the way in, I stop to let him adjust to the fullness of it. Then I shimmy a little bit, just for the sensation of movement. So far, so good. Slowly back out and then slowly and gently back in. Now I am fucking. Maybe just barely fucking but fucking nonetheless. Slowly in and slowly out. He seems to be breathing easier underneath me, more loose and relaxed. He is adjusting to the sensation. Of course, I have the sensation of a raw butthole clamped down like a vise on my dick and as I move it, the sensation grows. It feels good. I will say that. Goddam, it does feel good. He reaches down and strokes himself. That is a good sign too. A sign that he is beginning to enjoy it. So with that I can begin to fuck him hard. At least harder than I was. I am bent over him, plowing his ass with my hard dick. "Oh yeah, Uh. Uh. Yeah, fuck me" he moans Yeah. Okay. I will. I plow into him. Is he enjoying it or playacting? Does it matter? I am enjoying it and he wants the money. I would love it if he got off too but aim for achievable goals. Right now, my goal is to fuck him silly. He is still hard and stroking himself as I do him. He moans and whimpers and I just fuck him more. A bit harder now, pile driving him doggy style. Even harder now. He bucks back. I fuck harder. "I am going to plow this hot teenage ass" I call out, my body slapping against his. "Fuck me" he answers. Not fast but hard. Savagely hard. My dick is feeling pretty fucking good right now. While I would happily fuck him for a long time, it won't be long. No, not long. I feel the blood pumping, the neuron's firing. The sensation of pure, masculine pleasure grows and grows as I ravish his ass with my dick. Then, just when I couldn't stand it anymore, I unload in him. He dresses and I do too, at least to the point of getting my underwear on. I give him the money and he thanks me. 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