Date: Fri, 20 May 2011 08:57:30 -0700 (PDT)
From: Joe Hunter <hunterjoe45@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Commercial Traveler #2

All the usual disclaimers apply:

+This story is a work of fiction.  If you think it is real, you have a very
active imagination.

+Do not read this story if you live in an area where it is illegal to do
so.

+Scenes of sexual activity between an adult male and a young boy are
represented.  Do not read further if this offends you.

+Please do not imitate the actions portrayed herein - the author cannot
accept responsibility for any actions promoted by this story.

If you would like to get in touch, please e-mail me at:

			hunterjoe45@yahoo.com

I hope you enjoy reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Support Nifty!   Joe

____________________________

THE COMMERCIAL TRAVELER - 2  ( Robbie )
(copyright 2011, Joe Hunter)


Call me Jack.

I'm 37, look younger, keep myself fit - and I'm a boy lover.  I've heard
some say that it's hard to find willing boys, but I don't think so; not
when you travel as often as I do.  I fly around a lot on business.  Nothing
fancy, always coach or business class - midrange motels on the job.  But
when it comes to indulging my interest in boys I'm willing to spend money.
I'm rarely at a loss for a companion.

My secret?  A spare cell phone - the modern-day equivalent of the little
black book.  Mine goes with me everywhere and all my boy contacts are on
it.  Only they have the number.  I buy each one of them similar phones so
they can call or text as often as they want and when they get short on
minutes I text over a PIN for prepaid time.

The system works to keep us in touch and most of the time, when I go
anywhere, I'm already hooked up...

----------------------- | Destination: Old | | Northeast Mill Town |
-----------------------

Sometimes the system fails.  Text messages go unanswered, the phone goes
right to voicemail or a stranger's voice answers and says you have a wrong
number.  It was that way now.  I tried one last time while waiting at the
rental car desk, got an immediate transfer to voicemail and then nothing.

Travel to small or medium sized cities is rarely interesting, but the old
industrial towns of New England are particularly depressing.  Empty brick
mill buildings line the riverbanks, decaying testaments to a once thriving
textile industry that died a hundred years ago.  Along main streets and
around town squares, monumental public buildings - once a city's pride -
crumble into disrepair surrounded by boarded-up storefronts with fading
'This Space For Lease' signs.  In the parks, statues to forgotten dead of
forgotten wars stand vigil over homeless vagrants, druggies and soccer
playing children who call out to each other in foreign tongues.

My hotel was a sterile hive, owned by a national chain and built to a
cookie-cutter design; one of a few new buildings put up in the downtown
center as part of some now abandoned renewal project.  While driving toward
it I mused about the boy I had hoped to meet there.  We had shared some
good times together, but now they were done.  File away the memories, I
thought, and move on.  At least it was summertime.  New England in the
winter, with snow piled on the sidewalks and only the streets passable,
offered very few opportunities.  But in the long summer evenings, when the
light lingered, boys were outside, giving the experienced traveler all
sorts of chances.  I got checked in, changed to casual shorts with a
workout shirt and then headed for the street.

My first goal was a place to eat supper.  The fare in the hotel dining room
was overpriced and under edible so I got back in the car and cruised.
Right away opportunities presented themselves.  At a nearby stadium a high
school baseball game in progress and the little ice cream place across the
street was doing brisk business.  Close by, sprawling for blocks, was a
complex of parks and recreation areas where other things were going on.  I
found a spot for the car, bought a cheeseburger, coke and french fries from
the volunteers at the stadium and settled in to watch.

The game diverted me for a while, but the two attractive boys I spotted
both turned out to be younger brothers of the players, uninterested in any
adventure.  Once the food was down I left.  At the store across the street
I bought a cup of soft ice cream and commenced exploring.  A group of four
black kids on bicycles passed by.  Nothing doing there.  One of the parks
had a basketball court and I watched the action for a bit.  The players
were all Hispanic or black and none paid me any attention.

It was beginning to get dark and with the stadium lights glowing in the
gathering dusk behind me I ambled past a playground.  Mothers had long
since called home all the small children and shadowy pairs of teenagers now
occupied the swings and turntables.  I caught the flare of a cigarette and
heard a girl's muffled laughter.

Turning a corner I went up a street that separated two recreation fields.
Kids, mostly older teens, were crossing back and forth between cars stopped
for a traffic light up at the intersection.  Bicycles went by, a woman out
walking her dog said hello to me and somewhere a car stereo was blasting a
rap CD.

I strolled on.  Ahead of me the sidewalk led past a cluster of slender
trees where the rec-field fence ended at a narrow service alley.  In the
shadow of those trees was a dim figure wearing light-colored shorts with a
white T-shirt, and as I got closer I made out that it was a young boy,
perhaps twelve or thirteen.  He was watching the cars and at first I
thought he might be waiting for someone, except that he seemed too far back
from the edge of the road.  In the dark it was hard to see features, but I
could tell that he was slender and white.  The oversized T-shirt slipped a
bit off one shoulder...  I decided to roll the dice.

The boy paid no attention to me until I was only a few feet away.  I bent
over as if to tie my shoe and then straightened up, glancing toward him.

"Checkin' out the action?"  I asked.

"Yeah."  He was studying me and I was careful not to smile or appear overly
friendly.

"Anything goin' on?"

"Nah."

I considered this a good beginning.  He was talking and not moving away or
brushing me off.

"I was just up at the ball game."  With a jerk of my thumb I indicated the
direction of the Stadium.  "Pretty good game for a while.  You play ball?"

"Yeah.  Sometimes."

Nodding as if expecting this answer I peered around.  "You waitin' on
anybody?"

The boy shook his head.  "Nah."

"Just chillin'?"

"Uh-huh."

I paused one or two heartbeats and then went for the crucial question.
"I'm goin' for a Coke.  You want one?"

There was a moment's delay while the boy made his decision and I held my
breath.

"OK," he told me.

"The store up at the corner."  I pointed and we started off, the boy
falling into step beside me.  "What's your name?"  I asked.

"Robbie."

"Mine's Jack."  The boy tapped my palm when I held it out, his fingers dry
and warm.  "Doin' anything interesting this summer?  Any job?"

"Nah."  He shook his head.  "I tried some places, but..."

"Nothin', huh?"

"Yeah."

"How old are you?"

"Twelve."  He turned his head to look up at me.  "I'll be like thirteen in
October."

I could see more of him now, and liked what I saw.  Brown hair fell in a
spill across his forehead.  His face was oval with a firm chin and eyes
that had a clever look.  Nose and mouth were neither too big nor too small.
Altogether his features were more pleasant than handsome - but handsome is
as handsome does as the old wives used to say.

"Not many jobs for kids these days," I told him.

He nodded.  "Yeah."

"It sucks not having money."

"Uh-huh."

We were at the store and Robbie followed me inside where I bought a Coke
for myself and a diet Sprite for him.  Back outside I took a sip of my coke
and then started slowly up the side street in the direction toward my car.
Without a word Robbie went along, walking beside me.

"You live around here?"  I asked.

"Yeah."  Robbie gestured vaguely off to the left, away from the parks.

"Gotta' be home anytime soon?"

He shook his head, "Uh-uh."

"Why don't you hang with me for a while?"

"OK."

We walked on a few more paces and then I said, "There's always ways to make
money, if you know what to do."

The boy glanced at me and then nodded.  "Yeah."

We were on a short block.  Up ahead the street light at the corner was out
and in the darkness I put an arm around Robbie's shoulders.  The boy leaned
close, sliding his arm around my waist.

"You live around here?"  He asked, looking up hopefully.

"No.  I'm here on business.  Just a few days."

"Oh."  After a few more steps he looked up again.  "Where you stayin'?"

I told him and he nodded.  "You been there?"  I asked.

"Yeah.  A couple times."

Glancing down I wondered who had taken him there and what they had done.

Beyond the corner, light from streetlamps was on us again and I took my arm
off the boy.  We walked together past another rec-field, stopping at my
parked car, which Robbie examined critically.

"This yours?"

"No.  It's just a rental."  I popped the locks and the boy slid in while I
went around to the driver's side.  When I fastened my seatbelt the boy
locked his, too, imitating me, and then slid a palm on the center console.

"This is nice."

"Yeah.  For a rental it's not bad."

Most boys, when they get into a car, want to play with the radio, but this
one didn't.  He was silent on our way to the hotel, his head turning to
peer out at other cars or the neon lit windows of small immigrant food
stores that seemed the only places still open for business.  I was quiet as
well since I had to concentrate on finding my way through dark unfamiliar
streets.  When the hotel's floodlit portico and high-rise tower came into
view I pointed and Robbie leaned forward staring at it.

The side street where I had parked earlier was now lined with cars and
while we searched for another spot I told the boy, "Parking's a real pain
in the ass here."

Finally I spotted a couple getting ready to unlock their car and after a
short wait we took the place they vacated.  It was a two-block walk over to
the hotel and the boy was still not saying a word.  In the lights under the
portico I had my second good look at him and decided I had been lucky.  He
was slender but had solid shoulders and the bare skin of his lower legs was
smooth and hairless.  His scruffy clothes were out of place in the hotel
setting, but there was no doorman and the desk clerk was busy checking in
an older couple so no one gave us the eye when we passed through the lobby
and got into an elevator.

"Hit six," I told him and the boy glanced at me, peered at the control
panel and then looked up at me again.  "That one," I said, pointing, and
after another moment he pushed the button with a fingertip.

On the way up I saw him looking around at the sides of the elevator car and
he reached out to feel the slick surface of the imitation wood paneling.
When the doors opened at our floor he waited for me to go first and
followed me down the corridor to the room where he stared at the flashing
LED turning from red to green as I used my card key on the lock.

No two boys are ever alike but most I had known reacted to upscale hotel
rooms with something like, "Wow!  This is nice!" while running around to
explore, try the TV controls and check out the bathroom.  Robbie simply
stood by the end of the bed watching as I put the car keys away and closed
the curtains.  He had not said a word since getting into the car and it
gradually dawned on me that he was waiting to be told what to do.

"You want anything to eat?"  I asked.  "They got room service here.  You
want another soda?"

He shook his head and by then I was close enough to see his eyes.  There
was a deer-in-the-headlights look, something I had seen in other boys, and
suddenly I understood.  The business about being at the hotel before was
bullshit.  He didn't know what to do because he had never done it before.

"Sit down," I told him and after a nervous glance at me he perched on the
end of the bed.  In order to be as non-intimidating as possible I settled
on the floor at his feet.

"Your name's Robbie, right?"

"Uh-huh."  The kid's throat was so tight he had trouble forcing the sounds
out.

"What's my name?"

A pause while he fought to remember.  "Jack."

"Good."  I patted one of the cheap canvas sneakers he was wearing.  "I'm
glad you're hangin' with me Robbie.  I like talking to you.  Tell you
something.  Are these the only kicks you got?"

"Yeah."

I shook my head.  "I can find you something a lot better.  I'll be around
for a few days.  Let's meet up tomorrow afternoon and go to a Foot Locker
or someplace.  You can pick out whatever you want.  You wanna' do that?"

The boy nodded his head solemnly.  "Yeah."

"Good."

My hand slid around his bare ankle and then up over the hairless, silky
smooth skin of his lower leg.  "Did you say you played baseball?"

"Ummm...  Sorta'."  He looked down at where I was gently massaging his
calf.  "Like one year I did..."

"You got the build for it."  I squeezed his calf muscle.  "How come you
didn't keep it up?"

"It was like...  Like it cost a lot to sign up."

I nodded in understanding.  "It sucks not to have money."

"Uh-huh."

My hand slid up to his knee, pushing back the gaping end of his loose
shorts.  "Your legs are pretty strong."  With a gentle touch I stroked down
to his ankle again and then back up to the knee.  "You ride your bike a
lot?"

The boy was watching everything I was doing and when my hand pushed against
the lower edge of his shorts he pulled the cloth up out of the way for me.
"I used to.  But my bike got like stolen."

I shook my head.  "That sucks."  After massaging the delicate contour of
his knee I tapped the lower leg.  "Stick this out.  Make a leg muscle."

Robbie lifted his foot and I slid my palm up inside the baggy shorts to
feel his thigh muscle.  "Oh, wow!"  I looked up at him and nodded.  "That
is solid!  I bet you're really quick out on the ball field."

"I can run fast," Robbie assured me.

I massaged the hard rounded thigh muscle, letting my forearm press against
the hemmed edge of the shorts and Robbie tugged at the cloth, pulling it up
to expose most of his upper leg.  I slid my palm over the smooth skin,
caressing the satiny sheen of inner thigh, pushing up under the bunched
cloth nearly to his groin.

"Man, that is really good," I murmured, stroking and massaging all the way
back down to his knee.  "Here.  Relax a minute.  Let me get this."

Holding his lower leg I untied his sneaker and after watching me remove it
the boy leaned over to do the same with the other, looking up expectantly
when I got to my feet.

"Like this," I told him, nudging him back on the bed.  Robby scooted back
until his bare feet were on the coverlet and then stretched out.

"Now, lift your leg," I told him, sitting down by his side.  Obediently the
boy put his leg up, tensing the muscles and I slid the cloth of his shorts
back to his crotch, exposing the silky thigh, stroking with my palm.
"Point your toes," I murmured and moved my hand to caress dainty knees, the
swell of muscle in his calf and the sheeny satin of inner thigh.

"That is really good," I told him.  "How 'bout the other side?"

Robbie lifted his other leg for me and I exposed it as well, pushing his
shorts up.  In the subdued lighting of the room the boy's smooth legs
glistened like polished sculpture.

"Yeah," I said, tapping his knees as a signal to relax.  The boy dropped
his legs to the bed but made no move to tug the bunched cloth of his shorts
back down.  I stroked his knees and thighs, reveling in their silky warmth.

"That is good," I told him, and the boy lifted his head to look down as if
admiring himself.  "I bet you're solid all over.  Make an arm muscle for
me."

He flexed the bicep and I pushed the sleeve of his loose T-shirt up so I
could feel it.  Robbie's upper body development had not yet begun and his
arms were still young boy skinny, but the little bulge of muscle was hard
and solid.  "Pretty good for your age," I said nodding.  "How 'bout your
shoulders?"

The boy lifted himself so I could feel the rounded curve of muscle at the
top of his arms.  Then I put a hand on his stomach.

"Wow!  That is solid!"

I pushed my fingers against the taut sheath of muscle, feeling around the
sides of Robbie's waist through the cotton T-shirt while the boy watched.
Suddenly he reached to pull up the shirt, arching to get the cloth free in
back and exposing the smooth gleaming skin of his stomach.

"Oh wow, "I said, stroking and massaging.  "That is solid!  Does it go all
the way down?"  My fingertips pushed against the edge of his shorts and
Robbie pulled in his stomach so I could get a hand under the cloth.  He had
on boxer shorts and I pushed beneath the elastic waistband, sliding my palm
over the glossy surface of his lower belly.  The boy stretched back,
pulling his stomach in even further, and my probing fingertips discovered
the hard base of a stiff boner in a smooth hairless groin.  The boy was
erect beneath his clothes, the jut of his slick rod hidden in the folds of
the bunched shorts.

I let the tips of my fingers brush the engorged shaft as I swept them back
and forth, exploring the boy's taut lower belly, and then I nudged him half
onto his side so I can slide my palm around onto the glossy swell of hip
and butt cheek.

"Squeeze hard," I whispered and Robbie tightened himself, the mounds of his
butt jutting hard and tight.  "Man, that is good," I assured him, cupping
with my palm and then stroking the silky curves.  "Most white kids don't
have anything but flat butts.  Yours sticks out and it's got muscle.  That
means you're an athlete."

Robbie looked up at me.  "Is that why black kids..."

"Yeah," I told him, nodding.  "That's sure part of it.  They all have butts
that stick out."

I pushed around further and Robbie rolled more onto his side so I could
caress and massage on both sides of his crease.  Then I drew my hand back
and he stretched out once more on his back.

"Let's see your chest," I told him and when I pushed at his baggy T-shirt
he sat up, lifting his arms so I could take the shirt off all the way.

Robbie had a solid build for his age, with breadth to his shoulders and
little swells of immature muscle in his chest, all defined in shadowed
highlights by the dim light from the bedside lamp.  I stretched him out,
placing his arms behind his head and stroked a palm over his silky skin,
caressing the delicate hollows of his neck, the outline of the collarbones
and the hard points of his little nipples.

"You're gonna' be strong up here when you get your growth," I murmured,
smiling down at him and the boy stared back, eyes locked on mine while I
rubbed along his sides and down his silky flanks.  In the stretched space
between two left ribs there was a tiny regular movement that I touched with
a fingertip, feeling his heartbeat.  Then I slid my palm all the way down
over his taut belly, resting it on the bunched cloth covering his firm
thigh.

"Your legs are strongest right now," I told him.  "But the rest of you is
really solid for your age."

Robbie lifted his head to watch, tightening the thigh muscle for me as I
massaged his leg through the shorts.  "Man, this is solid," I murmured.
Pushing up under his bunched shorts I slid my fingertips nearly to his
groin.  "The muscle curve goes right to the crease.  I'll show you."

Removing my hand I shifted it to his belly, caressed him for a moment and
then unbuttoned the waist of his shorts.

"Like this," I said, pulling down the zipper.  I slid my hand beneath the
loose cloth, feeling the brim of his pelvis through his boxers.  Then I ran
a fingertip along his groin crease.  "See?"  Sliding my palm over the curve
of his thigh muscle I demonstrated how it's swell extended right up to
where the thumping of his big artery pulsed beneath the skin.  Then I
nudged his hip.

"Lift up."

Robbie arched a little to get his butt up and I slid both the shorts and
boxers down, exposing lower belly and hips.  The elastic waist of the boxer
briefs strained against his jutting boner, revealing the engorged base.

"Yeah, this is good," I told him, rubbing my fingers along his groin
creases and stroking the tops of his legs.  Then I pretended to find his
stiff erection.  "Oh wow.  You're really hard here, too.  Squeeze your
butt."

Robbie tightened himself and I pushed fingers under the boxers to take hold
of his engorged shaft, pushing the loose cloth up and out of the way as I
began to rub.

"Man, you're a good size for your age," My fingers slid up over his
circumcised tip and then back down.  "Can you shoot yet?"

Robbie nodded.  "A little."

I rubbed him a few more times and felt the boy squeeze his butt again.
Then I let go and began to push the bunched mass of his shorts and briefs
down toward his knees.  Robbie pulled his legs up and then one by one
pulled his legs free.  I tossed the clothing aside and the boy stretched
out naked on the bed, his smooth young body gleaming in the dim light.

I leaned over, inhaling the sweet scent of youth, sliding my hand over
heated flesh, thin and smooth as cellophane.  In his crotch Robbie's
engorged boy stick was jutting upward, its tip quivering with each beat of
his heart.  As I began to stroke it the boy's eyes closed and he extended
his arms back behind his head, spreading his legs when my fingers went down
to his nut sack so I could have more room to explore and fondle.

Although his groin was still smooth and hairless the boy's scrotum had
started to drop and his erection was nearly half adult size and thickness.
My fingers slid easily on the shiny stretched skin of the shaft and with
each stroke I rubbed a fingertip over the helmeted tip, brushing the tiny,
perfectly centered slit.

Robbie's eyes remained closed as I stroked him and he made no sounds, but I
saw and felt little movements of his body.  First his hips rose with a tiny
squirm, and then his toes pointed, legs tensing as he stretched to arch
himself.  The rigid shaft beneath my sliding fingers swelled when he
squeezed his butt.  I rubbed faster and his movements came more quickly, a
throb pulsing beneath my sliding fingers.  The boy made a tiny sound, a
little gasp of pleasure, and drew one knee up.

I leaned down to take the head of his straining young boy pole into my
mouth.  Sucking and sliding on him with tongue, lips and fingers I
redoubled my efforts and was rewarded with another pulsing contraction in
the shaft.  Robbie's body tensed, hips arching up as he gave a little gasp,
and then he was jerking, his hips bucking in frantic heaves as throb after
throb pulsed in his rigid boner.  Slippery warmth dribbled from the slit,
sweet on my tongue, and I kept licking, sucking and rubbing until the
bucking stopped.  Then, while he lay sprawled, panting on the coverlet, I
caressed his silky smoothness, circling a palm on his flanks and chest.

"Feel good?"  I asked when he opened his eyes.

The boy nodded, his gaze unfocused, still half stunned with pleasure.

"Anyone ever do that for you before?"

There was a slow shake of his head.  "Uh-uh."

I removed my shoes, socks and shirt, and then stretched out on the bed
taking the boy into my arms.  "Will you do that for me?"

Robbie's head was tucked into my shoulder.  He nodded and when I pulled his
hand down to my crotch he began to rub me through the cloth of my shorts.
"Hold up," I told him.

I got to my feet and stripped the rest of the way while the boy watched,
his eyes glittering in the dim light.  When I stretched back out he turned
to position himself and I pulled his hips around until he was straddling my
chest.  He leaned down, fingers taking hold of my jutting erection and
after a few rubs I felt the lick of his tongue on my blunt tip.  I spread
my legs, arching a bit while Robbie's tongue and fingers worked on me and
then warm moistness engulfed me as he slid me into his mouth.

The boy was inexpert, but that hardly mattered since I was so close after
what we had done already.  I squeezed to hold back, not wanting to release
too soon, and gripped the boy, circling my palms on the glassy smoothness
of his hips and thighs.  With my thumbs I spread his ass cheeks, uncovering
a clean tight anal dimple and pulled it toward me, lifting my head to lick
my tongue around the rim.

For a moment Robbie's efforts on me stopped while he squirmed to push back
against me and spread his thighs further apart.  When I stuck my tongue
into his ring I felt him quiver.  Then his lips and fingers moved again on
my shaft, sliding faster than before as he gave a little moan of pleasure.

I pushed my tongue in as far as I could, wiggling it, and felt the boy
quiver again.  Then I exchanged finger for tongue, spitting on it first for
lubrication.  When my fingertip found his little nub Robbie jerked and took
the full length of my shaft into his mouth, sliding the head down his
throat.  Pressure had already risen in my loins and the sensation of tight
warmth around my sensitive tip took me past restraint.  Driving my finger
into the boy as far as I could and wiggling it on his nub I arched up
straining, and then we both began to jerk as I pumped spurt after spurt of
semen into his mouth.

Afterwards I lay spent and gasping on my back with Robbie sprawled on top
of me, our two sweaty bodies pressed together.  I checked the boy to be
sure he had not choked on my cum and when I was satisfied that his
breathing was regular I turned him around so we could cuddle.  Robbie
pulled one knee up on my hip and rested his head on my chest.

"How did you learn to do that?"  I asked after kissing his hair.

"This kid like showed me."

"Older kid?"

Robbie nodded.

"He wouldn't do it for you though?"

"Uh-uh."

"Not very nice."  My hand made circles on his silky back and then drifted
down over the firm little butt.  Robbie reached back to push my finger into
his crease.  "Was that like fucking?"

"Sort of," I told him, rubbing a fingertip across his little opening.
"Tongue fucking and finger fucking."

Robbie squirmed to rub his still rigid branch on my hip.  "That kid said it
hurts a lot when you like get fucked up the ass."

I bent my head down to kiss his hair again.  "That kid must be going with
the wrong kind of people.  It's not supposed to hurt; it's supposed to be
nice.  The very first time maybe it hurts a little.  But then it's really
nice."

Robbie was quiet for a moment and then said, "What you did was nice."

"Good."  I rubbed across his opening once more and then slid my finger to
the base of his scrotum and pushed hard.  The boy hugged me, squirming with
pleasure while I kissed his hair once more.  "Everything is going to be
nice for you, Robbie.  I won't let anything hurt you.  And I'd be very,
very mad if anyone else ever did."

The boy squirmed closer and was quiet while I stroked him, my fingertip
tracing the delicate groove of upper lip, his slender throat, a thrust of
rib beneath satin skin...  Finally he asked, "Was it like for real what you
said about the shoes?"

"I never say anything I don't mean.  We'll go tomorrow afternoon after I
finish the work I have to do.  Is that OK?"

"Uh-huh."

"Have you got a cell phone?"

Robbie lifted his head to give me an anxious look.  "No."

"Well, you do now."  Lifting the boy to put him aside I got off the bed,
padded over to my bag and got one of the extra phones I always bring with
me.  Robbie sat up and when I brought it over to the bed he hung on to me,
leaning around my shoulder while I explained how to use it.

"You can keep the ring tone off if you want," I told him.  "That way no one
knows you've got this and you won't have some big kid jackin' you for it.
But that's up to you.  If you do mute the ring tone you can check every
hour or so to see if you've got messages."

The boy took the unit from me, staring down at it and rubbing his hand over
the case.

"This is your contact list," I said, putting his finger on the button that
brought it up.  "And this is my number here, see?  It's already in.  All
you have to do is press 'call' and you can talk to me anywhere in the
world."

Robbie looked at me wide-eyed.  "Anywhere?"

"Anywhere, anytime," I assured him.  "Whenever you need something, or want
help, or just feel like talking, you can call me and I'll either be there
or get back to you pretty quick.  Count on it."

The boy nodded solemnly, his eyes on my face.

"Keep track of your minutes," I warned.  "You'd be surprised how fast they
go once you start using this thing.  Don't ever let your minutes go under a
hundred.  Call me, or text me and I'll send more.  Like this..."

I demonstrated until I was sure Robbie had it memorized and then patted his
shoulder.  "You can practice with it tomorrow while I'm at work and then
we'll hook up.  You want a shower before I take you home?"

He nodded and I led him to the bathroom.

Scrubbed and smelling of coconut scented soap, we both went out to the car
and while the boy directed me to a corner near the walk-up apartment where
he lived with his grandmother I dug out money for him from my wallet.

"Don't let anyone see this," I warned handing it to him and Robbie stuffed
it into a cargo pocket of his shorts.

"We'll meet like we said tomorrow, but just to be sure I'll text you when
I'm done at work, so check your messages and call me right away if there's
any problem, OK?"

"Uh-huh."  He looked down for a moment and then backs up at me.  "Are we
like...  Like after the shoes, can we like go to your room again?"

I smiled at him.  "Absolutely we will.  Why?  You wanna do anything
special?"

Robbie looked down again and then said, "Can we like...  Can you like do
that stuff again...  An' like what you said, an' like show me..."

"Sure."  I reached for him and Robbie leaned across the center console to
hug tightly for a moment before straightening back up.

"Anything you want, kid," I assured him.  "Anything."

At the corner he got out and I told him I would watch until I saw him go
safely into the apartment house.

"See you tomorrow, Jack," he told me.

I nodded as he waved and trotted off up the street.  Almost I was tempted
to call out, "This could be the start of a beautiful friendship, kid," but
that sort of thing is wasted on twelve-year-olds.

I was thinking it, though.  Boy, was I thinking it...

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

This story is one of a twenty-four part series titled "The Commercial
Traveler".  The setting is the United States, and keep in mind - this is
FICTION.

I have tried to include something for everyone - single hook ups, doubles,
twins, first times and hand offs - so give my serial a chance.  I'm certain
you will have a favorite chapter (I do, but I won't reveal it) and perhaps
you will drop me a message saying which one it is.  Look for a new chapter
or two each month until all twenty-four are out there.

----------------------------------------------------

Thanks for taking the time to read my story and if you'd like to comment,
my e-mail address is:

			hunterjoe45@yahoo.com

I will try to answer all serious mailings.  Rants and ravings will not get
consideration.

To all you readers who enjoy these stories, please support Nifty with
contributions and keep the Archive online.  Check the Nifty home page for
ways to make contributions.  Without this Archive those of us who write for
you will lose a wonderful resource to get our stories out.

You can find links to all my other stories on Nifty under my name, Joe
Hunter, listed under the J's (for Joe) in the prolific authors list.  I
hope you will read and enjoy!

All the Best.  Joe