Date: Sat, 18 Dec 2010 10:38:17 -0500 From: Ryan D. Murray Subject: The Invisible Kid Anyone who saw Ryan Murray park his nondescript grey Volkswagen Jetta with the high school team decal in the rear window and step out onto the asphalt parking lot of the suburban supermarket would have figured he was another generic kid from the nearby high school and wouldn't have given him another thought or even another look. That suited Ryan just fine. Blessed with his mother's genes, at 24 he looked about 18, and cultivated that impression by dressing the same as several hundred boys who did attend the nearby school, and by keeping his chestnut hair in the latest teenage boy style. He had chosen his car to look like something a high school kid could afford, but at the same time unremarkable enough that it didn't make an impression. He had even removed all the logos, so to most adults it was just a boxy little grey car, and they couldn't describe it if they tried. Ryan was not particularly cute but certainly not ugly; he had the most generic face imaginable. He never wore anything with a logo, and usually drove around in crisply ironed khaki cargo shorts, a spotless white t-shirt so clean it would blind you, plain white sneakers with the logo removed, and a green baseball cap, green being the team color of the local high school. He figured most people in the California desert town of Murietta would forget having seen him two seconds after they saw him, and if they were asked to give a description of him, they couldn't. He never bought anything unusual, and paid cash for everything, so he stayed anonymous and didn't leave a paper trail. He lived in a generic beige house on a boring suburban street. The invisible kid. As he walked toward the supermarket, Ryan's ears were assaulted by the grating, blackboard-fingernail screech of a nasal female voice with a definite Texas twang. A short woman in lime green capris, a pink halter top that accentuated her ample bust, and black flip-flops was pushing a blue shopping cart toward the entrance with two boys, apparently hers, following sullenly behind. Her blonde ponytail whipped from side to side as she looked back at her bored sons to make sure they were paying attention. They weren't. "Goddamnit, are you listening to me?" she squawked. Clearly not listening to her were a tall, thin boy in his early teens, and a short, chubby boy two or three years younger. They were so completely unalike that Ryan guessed they had been sired by two different fathers, neither of which had probably stuck around long to help raise what they had bred. "If y'all start trouble in that store again," the busty Texan loudly warned, "you're gonna wait outside." The tall, skinny teen got Ryan's attention immediately. About thirteen or fourteen years old, his lanky frame was a jungle gym of long, bony arms with prominent elbows and large paws, and even longer legs with knobby knees and huge feet. He was dressed in worn-out knee-length black shorts, skater shoes without socks, and a dirty white t-shirt with the logo of a middle school that fed into the nearby high school. His hair was a rat's nest that hadn't seen a comb in weeks, hanging down in his face with one eye barely visible between shanks of hair. When he noticed Ryan watching him the teen tilted his head to one side and his hair parted to reveal a surprisingly handsome and boyish face, with large ocean-blue eyes, a long, slender nose and full lips with a permanent pout. Ryan made eye contact with him, then very slowly and deliberately took a good, long look at the boy's arms and legs before moving just as slowly back up to his eyes. He looked confused for just a moment, then he shrugged and his look of hopeless boredom returned. As the two boys followed their mother into the store, the tall teen turned around for just a moment, reached up with his right hand to pull his hair aside, and looked straight at Ryan. Good, thought Ryan, I'm on the kid's radar screen, and he's just curious enough to keep an eye on me. Ryan got a shopping cart and pretended to shop, staying about half an aisle behind the noisy Texan and her two offspring. In the cereal aisle the bed-headed teen neatly tripped his chubby little brother and sent him sprawling on the floor, bringing a loud warning from their mother to "knock it OFF, Dylan." Okay, Ryan thought, his name's Dylan. Somehow it seemed to fit. The kid looked back at Ryan, seemingly for approval, and Ryan flashed him a quick grin. As they moved through the store, Dylan looked back occasionally at Ryan, but neither his mother nor his little brother seemed to have noticed him. Ryan made sure he was staring right at Dylan every time the teen turned around to check on him. He clearly knew he was being followed and watched, but his face registered only a confused curiosity, not suspicion. Given Ryan's innocent young looks, the boy would probably not immediately guess the reason for Ryan's interest. In the fruit juice aisle a full-scale war erupted between the two boys, and their mother screamed at them to go wait for her outside. As the boys ran to the front of the store toward the exits, Ryan waited till their mother wasn't looking, then abandoned his cart and followed them out. As he left the store Ryan looked quickly around and was pleased to see almost no one except a couple of elderly ladies unloading their carts into an older station wagon. Dylan and his brother were sitting on the concrete between a bottled water dispenser and a newspaper rack. Dylan spotted Ryan instantly but didn't look surprised to find him walking toward them. Ryan sat down in front of the newspaper rack, lit a cigarette, and held it out to Dylan. The teen accepted it and took a long drag, clearly no stranger to smoking. He tilted his head again to let his hair fall to one side, pondered Ryan with both eyes, then slowly blew a cloud of cigarette smoke into Ryan's face. "You live around here?" Ryan spoke in a confidential near-whisper. "Trailer park." Ryan knew the one Dylan meant; the only one in the vicinity was an older park on the main drag through Murietta, with the usual mix of older trailers and somebody's boat always out in front. "How old are you?" "Fourteen," Dylan answered, both eyes still on Ryan as he blew another cloud of smoke into his new friend's face. He was rapidly smoking it down to the filter with long, deep drags. "Eleven," the chubby younger boy added. Dylan's face clouded instantly with anger and he turned to face his brother. "He's talkin to me, fuckwad," Dylan hissed. The fourteen-year-old held up the cigarette butt, and Ryan lit another and handed it over. The boy was sitting cross-legged Indian style with his feet drawn up close. Ryan took a good, long look at the teen's arms, hands and legs. The look of curious confusion returned as the handsome boy blew another smoke cloud at Ryan. "Is there anyplace you hang out at?" Ryan asked. "I'd like to talk to you sometime when your mom's not around." "What the fuck?" the chubby boy squeaked. Dylan whirled around and delivered a brutal punch to his brother's chest, bouncing him off the side of the water machine, and the younger boy grabbed his chest with a shocked expression and squealed in pain. "Shut the fuck up," Dylan warned in the same menacing hiss as before. "And you don't say shit to Mom." The eleven-year-old moved to the opposite side of the water machine, leaving Dylan and Ryan alone. Dylan turned back to Ryan and named a redneck liquor store less than a block from the trailer park. "Late," the teen added. "How late?" Dylan exhaled smoke through his nostrils; it hung in the air between him and Ryan. "Like midnight. Usually steal a beer when the guy's not payin attention." The boy paused, glanced at his little brother, then added "Or you could talk to me now." Ryan glanced around to make sure no one was nearby, then leaned toward Dylan and spoke in a nearly inaudible whisper. "If I meet you there tonight, would you want to go out behind the store and make a hundred bucks?" Dylan's eyes opened wide. He wasn't confused anymore. He took another long drag on the cigarette then flicked it away, his ocean blue eyes locked on Ryan. The handsome teen belched and blew another smoke cloud from his nose into Ryan's face, then silently nodded. "Okay, thanks," Ryan whispered. Dylan continued to stare wide-eyed at Ryan, slowly nodding his head. The automatic doors of the supermarket opened, and the boys' mother emerged with her shopping cart, arguing loudly with a store employee who had followed her out. Ryan tucked his plastic lighter inside the half-empty pack of cigarettes and handed it to Dylan, who pulled up his t-shirt and stuffed the contraband in the waist of his shorts. "See ya tonight," Dylan whispered. Ryan stood then and walked back to his parking spot, climbed into the grey Jetta and drove away. A few minutes after midnight, Ryan drove slowly past the trailer park to the liquor store Dylan had mentioned. No one was walking or driving on the quiet street, and he didn't see any police cars. He pulled into the store's smallish parking lot, killed the headlights, and stopped in the dark next to the trash dumpster behind the store. A shadow about Dylan's size sat on the ground with his back to the block wall, and an orange dot that flared and died down to a dull red told Ryan the shadowy figure was smoking a cigarette. The figure stood, and in the weak moonlight Ryan saw Dylan walking casually toward the Jetta, a cigarette in his mouth and a probably stolen bottle of Mexican beer in his right hand. He reached out to the passenger side door handle, popped the door open and hopped into the bucket seat next to Ryan. Dylan kept one skate shoe on the ground outside the car. The Jetta's cabin light had its bulb removed, so the car stayed dark with its door open. "So you're a fag?" Dylan whispered. There was no hint of malice or prejudice, he was just using the word that fourteen-year-old boys use for gay men. "Yeah," Ryan answered, trying to make his reply sound as casual and matter-of-fact as the question. The lanky teen tipped the bottle up and emptied it, then belched loudly and set the empty on the ground next to the car. "What do I have to do?" "Take your shirt off," Ryan whispered, "pull your pants and boxers down to your knees," Ryan began. When Dylan had hid the cigarettes at the supermarket earlier that day, Ryan had noticed he was wearing stained white boxers, and since the boy was dressed the same as he had been at the market, Ryan assumed he was still wearing boxers. "Let me feel you all over, kiss and make out for a while, let me suck on your nipples, belly button and balls, and let me suck your dick till you cum in my mouth." Ryan could feel his crotch tighten as his erection pressed against his khaki pants, partly from the excitement, and partly from the smell of a teenage boy mixed with cigarettes and beer. "Hundred bucks for that?" "Yup." Ryan took the wad of bills out of his pants pocket and showed it to Dylan. "No homo, right? I mean you're not gonna try and mess with my butt or nothin." "No way," Ryan answered. "I know you're not gay, and I respect that." "Kay," Dylan whispered, and pulled his right foot off the ground and into the car, and shut the door. "Do you know a safe place we could chill for a while and not have anybody bother us?" Ryan asked. Dylan thought a moment before he answered. "They're buildin' something new next to the trailer park, I never see anybody there this late at night." Ryan had noticed the new construction when he passed the trailer park, and it looked pretty dark and deserted then. "Okay," Ryan agreed. "Let's do it there." Ryan drove the half block back to the construction site, killed the headlights again and cautiously drove to the back of the new building. The place seemed deserted, and no one would be able to see them from the main street, the liquor store or the trailer park. He turned off the engine and rolled down the car window; it was a warm night, and he also wanted to be able to hear anyone approaching. "You cool here?" Ryan asked. "Yeah." Dylan snuffed his cigarette out in the dashboard ashtray, then reached up and pulled his t-shirt off over his head, dropping it on the floor of the car at his feet. His smooth, thin torso was as skinny and hairless as the rest of his long, bony body. About two inches of stained boxer waistband showed above his jeans. The tall teen raised his butt off the bucket seat, hooked his thumbs in his waistband, and pulled his jeans with the belt still buckled and the dirty boxers down past his knees, and relaxed in the bucket seat with his eyes on Ryan. Ryan reclined both of the car's bucket seats slightly, then wrapped his arm around Dylan's shoulders, enjoying as he always did the soft, smooth warmth of the boy's skin. He reached up to brush the boy's hair away from his face; Dylan didn't seem to mind. "You're really cute," Ryan whispered. "Thanks," Dylan whispered softly back. "Do you always pay a hundred bucks?" "That's because you're cool," Ryan answered. "I don't get to play with the cool kids very often." He could see Dylan smile shyly in the thin moonlight. That line always worked on the geeky, awkward ones. He began softly rubbing the teenager's right shoulder, and Dylan closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. It was a romantic moment for Ryan for about three seconds until the boy belched loudly and filled the Jetta's tiny space with the smells of beer and cigarette smoke. Ryan placed his free hand on Dylan's chest, and began rubbing the boy's chest and stomach. Dylan visibly relaxed in the seat and closed his eyes again. As he massaged the teen's skinny body, Ryan felt large, puffed up nipples and looked forward to sucking on them. Moving his hand down to Dylan's stomach, Ryan continued massaging the boy's body while he gently kissed Dylan's lips several times, and felt the boy's mouth slack open. Ryan slipped his tongue into Dylan's mouth, and felt the boy's tongue licking at his own. As Ryan let his tongue explore Dylan's mouth, he began firmly massaging the teen's chest and stomach, deeply making out with the handsome, ocean-eyed eighth grader while feeling up his firm but skinny young body. Ryan reached across Dylan and reclined the seat a little more, then took one of the boy's large nipples into his mouth and began gently sucking on it, giving it a mini tongue bath while drawing its rubbery skin into his mouth. He felt Dylan adjust himself in the seat and exhale a long, deep breath. Dylan spread his legs apart slightly, and Ryan knew without looking that the teen was well along toward getting an erection from the sensual feelings Ryan was giving his body. Ryan moved over to the boy's other nipple, drawing it into his mouth in the same way, gently sucking the mound of flesh while bathing it with his tongue, and massaging the teen's stomach with his hand. He felt Dylan slide forward slightly on the seat and open his legs widely, giving his balls and dick room to grow. Ryan kissed Dylan's stomach gently a few times and slipped the tip of his tongue into the boy's surprisingly wide and deep 'inny' belly button, then began sucking gently on it. Dylan adjusted his butt and legs again, and Ryan knew that meant his new friend was lost in the sensations and was stiffening, his long, lanky body having forgotten for the moment that the person giving him these wonderful, sensuous feelings was male. Ryan brushed the teenager's erection with his face on the way down to his ball sac, feeling for a quick moment the pulsating stiffness beneath the soft skin. Ryan drew the boy's swollen ball sac into his mouth, bathing it with his warm tongue while applying gentle suction. "Fuck," Dylan said. Ryan knew this was the point where boys often began uttering four-letter syllables as new feelings coursed through their entire body. Ryan let the boy's balls drop from his mouth and started licking all over the soft, pulsing head of Dylan's dick. After about a minute of firm licking, Ryan moved his tongue down the shaft to the boy's sac, then back up the shaft to the head. Finally he slurped the teen's stiff boyhood into his mouth and began sucking it with gentle suction and lots of firm tongue on the shaft. Dylan's breathing changed slightly and became more nasal, making a sound almost like a soft snort with each breath. The teen moved his butt forward in the seat and spread his legs as widely as possible. Ryan recognized the move, it was the body's way of asking for more. Clearly no girl had ever given Dylan a blow job, his reactions said this was his first time having his dick sucked and he would probably squirt a gusher. The deep, snorting breaths fell into a rhythm in sync with Ryan's sucking. Ryan felt Dylan's hand touch his hair as he sucked, and the boy began lifting his butt just slightly off the seat, fucking Ryan's mouth with each stroke as Ryan began to taste the salty flavor of precum. Ryan picked up the pace, his tongue firm against Dylan's shaft as he stroked. "Oh fuck," Dylan said, suddenly pushing Ryan's head down slightly with his hands. Ryan felt two hard jets of hot liquid hit the back of his throat and tried not to choke as more spurts of hot semen seemed to squirt in every direction inside his mouth. When the squirts subsided, Dylan collapsed in the bucket seat, spent and almost exhausted. Ryan swallowed hard and licked the remaining juice from the head of the boy's dick, kissed it gently once and sat back in the driver's seat. He pulled the wad of money from his pocket again and handed it to the panting teen, who pulled his jeans and boxers back up and stuffed the cash into his pocket. His breathing was becoming more regular. Ryan brought the reclining seats back to their normal position, and Dylan laid his head back aganst the headrest, still shirtless with his eyes closed. "Would you want to do this again sometime?" Ryan asked the question as gently and softly as he could. "Maybe," Dylan answered. "if you pay me a hundred bucks again." Dylan put his t-shirt back on, then suddenly turned to face Ryan, who found himself looking into the boy's huge ocean eyes. "Want to do my little brother?" Dylan asked, sounding a bit too cheerful about the prospect. Ryan shook his head. "The one who was at the market? Not really." "I don't blame ya," Dylan whispered back. Ryan started the engine and drove out to the front, let Dylan out to walk the short distance back to the trailer park, and drove north toward home. About halfway home he pulled out the dashboard ashtray, rolled down the Jetta's window, and emptied it into the wind.