by JohnFoxe@protonmail.com
Other stories by me:
(AKA fritzcatt) :
- Amazing Mike
- Super
- Trinity
- Sparks Plantation
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Little Colombian Bean
(ENGLISH TRANSLATION)
Bogota, Colombia
The kid I'm scoping, the one pretending he doesn't notice me — he's just a small thing.
Small enough to make me uncomfortable.
He's maybe ten years old, if I had to guess. Wide brown eyes, short black hair and bronze complexion. Typical Colombian street kid.
Dirt-poor, obviously, if he lives on this side of town.
And cute. So damned cute.
I think he knows what I'm doing here. I see his subtle moves when he knows I'm looking. His quick glances. Slight smile. The way he gets rid of his friend with just a sideways nod of his head.
Amazing that road robbers assume I'm as penniless as them, but this boy can spot an impostor, just that quick.
He's so young, though. Too young. I admit to being kind of immature, emotionally — maybe "ridiculously immature" is a better description — but I'm not a kid anymore. Finished university two years ago.
Okay dammit, now I feel like a fuckin' predator. Christ! Is that what I am? A sense of shame pushes to the surface and I feel my face grow warm. But already, I'm driving it back down. Now further down, until it's buried under my aches and desires.
I argue with myself: I wouldn't even hurt someone's feelings, much less force myself on someone — and least of all, a little kid.
I've wanted to do this since I was a teen — come to this part of the city to hook up with one of these street boys. But the thought that some of these kids are desperate enough to
have sex with strangers for money
angers me,
repulses me,
and thrills me.
Who's in charge here... the angel on my right shoulder or the devil on my left?
I can't shake him out of my head. He stars in my daydreams — not this boy, but a street kid I saw a year earlier while passing through. This kid here, though, he reminds me of the other one. Just as cute too, in his own way.
Even here in the worst slum district of Bogota, where poverty and crime are parts of everyday life, and some of the structures look like they've been through a war, I manage, without incident, to buy a coffee from an old black man pushing a cart. He's sporting an over-sized lump in his pocket in the shape of a pistol.
And now I'm sitting on a cracked cement step of a boarded-up market, sipping my coffee. I'm wearing typical clothes for this area to make myself less of a mark. The boy is standing ten or fifteen meters away, pretending not to watch me. I think he knows, or at least suspects that I'm here for him, or someone like him.
Kids his age don't display themselves like prostitutes. The older ones do. They may not even go looking for it. I can't say for sure, but I suspect they engage when they run across it, or maybe when it runs across them.
My boy pulls a phone from his back pocket, taps and swipes a few times, then appears to be holding a conversation. It seems unlikely that a street kid in this area can afford a phone, much less a smart phone. I decide he's putting on an act for my benefit, to make it seem he is not alone and helpless or without friends for protection. I'm just guessing, but it sort of makes sense.
Come to think of it, I'm doing a lot of guessing. In this part of town, I don't know what the fuck I'm doing. No, not at all!
'Chill,' I remind myself. If I always listened to my paranoia, I'd be safer, yes, but I might never leave my apartment, except for my job.
I pull out my pack of smokes, deciding to put on an act of my own. A pack of Pielrojas. Even this brand is pricey these days. All the brands are. Cigarettes aren't as prevalent lately on my side of town. But here, they're still part of the culture. I've yet to see anyone in this neighborhood puff on a vape pen, but I've seen a few guys roll their own cigarettes. Boys too.
I wait until I see my kid watching me again, then I pop a cigarette into my mouth. I pat my shirt pockets like I'm looking for a lighter. Not that I ever carry a lighter, or cigarettes. I bought the smokes because I thought they might come in handy.
"Shit," I exaggerate the word, still putting on my show. I stand up and pat my pants pockets, looking for my nonexistent lighter.
I see the boy gesturing at me. He arches his eyebrows and smirks a little as he pulls a lighter from his pocket and flicks it. I feel a little flame spark to life in my groin.
So, my smirking boy is a smart-ass — but a friendly smart-ass.
I flash a smirk of my own and note my surroundings, then head in his direction. No one is paying attention to me, other than my boy.
~
Less than ten minutes later, I'm in a dim room in a derelict house with the boy, Cam, short for Camilo, no doubt (if that's his real name). I tell him my name is Alex (although it isn't). He pinches out the cigarette he hustled from me and slides the remaining part into his pocket for later.
Now I'm standing in front of him as he is perched atop a badly-worn stuffed ottoman, crouched on his knees — his warm fingers are wrapped around my already-throbbing erection
...sliding. In and out, in and out. His skin is soft and warm and my lust for him feels achy and urgent.
He's going to suck my dick for ten minutes. That's the deal. He wears a scratched-up watch on his wrist, to keep track, no doubt. Disney is printed under a graphic of Minnie Mouse. Promotional watch maybe.
I want to kiss him first, this cute boy. As much as I'm desperate for him to suck on me, I want first to feel his sweet kiss on my lips.
He raises up as I lean my face toward his. I kiss him softly, sweetly. He reciprocates. It's immediately obvious that he's kissed before. I want so much to squeeze my hand into his pants and feel all his boy-parts, but there's no time for that.
His touch makes me fantasize for a moment that I already love him and that he loves me — and that he's not doing this merely because I paid him,
half of the money up front
...but because he desires to kiss me and feel my aching erection.
It's not true, of course. I just wish it was. It's just a fantasy. My make-believe. He's not feeling my dick because he wants me. I think he's checking me out first — looking me over. Making sure I'm not a stinky pig or the walking-dead. This is the slum area, after all.
The boy must see by now that I'm not dirty or disgusting. I'm clean. Smelling extra-good, in fact — regardless of my second-hand street clothes. Third or forth-hand is probably more accurate.
Or, maybe I'm wrong. Maybe this kid can't afford to be so picky about it. But I hope he is picky, for his sake
Me? I'm as clean as sunshine. I'm not smelly, old, or wrinkled. I'm twenty-four. Not fat. The hair around my dick is trimmed short. I take care of myself.
Admittedly, I'm not wealthy, just middle-class — landing a decent-paying job right out of university was pure luck. Okay, I'm a bit of a head-case, but I always had above average grades growing up. And now I'm a fit, reasonably good-looking, employed young man who smells good enough to suck on,
if I pay for it,
in advance.
And at this moment, my dick is so hard, I'm afraid it's going to snap off if my boy bends it too far.
Now I pull out my own phone, the real thing, and zoom in on Cam's busy hands. I assure him, "Don't worry, I won't share it or upload it to a porn site. It's just for me to look at, for later... because you're such a handsome little guy, I don't want to forget you."
as if I could ever forget this boy
He smiles at the "handsome" part and he seems only mildly concerned about the video. He asks me, "You don't live around here, do you?"
"Nope." I assure him while watching through the little phone-screen.
"It's okay then." He shrugs.
I don't see what living around here has to do with anything but I won't complicate things by asking. But I do ask him: "Do you go to school?" I'm wasting my short few minutes with my boy, but I'm curious.
"Sometimes," he answers.
"Good." I wink, and add "You should go everyday, though. If you study hard, you'll be able to get a good job someday, move to Rosales, the ballin' side of town... live in a class apartment, drive a nice car. You and your family... or whoever."
Cam smirks and rolls his eyes. I imagine, in his head, he's thinking, 'whatever, mister.'
"For real," I add, looking around at the decrepit surroundings. "You're a handsome guy. That's a step ahead already. Now add school and even university on top of that, and you're good to go. Seriously, you could do it."
Then my boy looks up at me curiously, and smiles. But this time, it's a sincere smile.
He's handsome, this kid. I almost think I could spend my ten minutes just admiring his lovely little face. Almost.
I stop interrupting him. He moves his head back down in front of my erection. I'm grateful I don't have to coax him, on top of paying him. I don't think I could stand to lose anymore self-esteem today.
and what about the boy's self-esteem, seeing that he's the poor kid sucking dick for money?
I tell my brain to shut the fuck up, already.
Cam leans his face forward — the moment I've dreamed about — his lips brush against the swollen purple knob. I shiver at the touch, and the sight of him. Then, at last, he slides his soft lips over me and the swollen knob of my dick disappears. His sweet mouth is warm and wet.
I feel my knees turn weak for a second. I shiver again and feel the hair on my neck stand up. As wonderful as I imagined! The way my flesh feels in his mouth, the sight of it — this beautiful young boy sucking me. My fantasy come true!
In and out, in and out, his lips slide halfway down the pole and back out, again and again — his slippery, luscious, warm, wet mouth is all I can see. My body wants to push deeper but I restrain myself. I gently brush my hand against his face. "Cam," I moan, "that feels good." I frame the luscious shot on the phone screen and watch.
in and out, in and out, in and out...
I moan again.
He pulls away and looks up at me. "Tell me before you cum, okay?"
For a moment, I don't know how to answer. Had I really assumed he wouldn't mind that I blew my cum into his mouth? — that he'd just keep sucking on my dick as my balls emptied their load?
In my jack-off fantasies, yes, that's exactly what happens. But not in real life, apparently. And especially not my considerable and messy load of cum.
Even way back at age fourteen when me and my friend Matias jacked-off together — his eyes grew wide when he saw the amount of clear-white semen that spurt out of me, several times, then flow heavily for several more seconds. Unlike me, Matias only produced about enough to fill a thimble.
"Okay," I answer Cam, nodding. I wonder if my face shows my disappointment.
"When you're going to cum, I'll do it this way," the boy promises, pumping me sensuously a few times with his hand, showing me how pleasurable he can jack me off. He smiles seductively, then slides his other hand under my balls and massages them as he strokes me, maybe hoping I won't press the issue.
His soft hand on my balls makes the hair on my arms and neck stand up. I nod to him again.
He once again slips his sweet boy-lips around my dick.
in and out, in and out... The feeling is more wonderful with each slide of his mouth.
"What if I pay you double?" I whisper.
(in my mind, I'm kicking myself)
Cam stops again, looking up, his eyes wide, "you mean... to cum in my mouth?" He points at his throat while making a sad puppy-dog face. "I can't though. It will make me sick."
"Okay... it's okay...we don't have to do that," I assure him, whispering loudly. I brush my hand down his face again. "This is fine what you're doing, Cam. It feels awesome!"
But he doesn't resume sucking me. He stops still, looking up at me, like he is considering. "Double?" he mouths the word. The boy moves up onto his knees, balancing on top of the old ottoman. "My brother... he will... he doesn't mind about that... the cum."
"Your brother? ...what? ...he'll do what?"
"My brother can do that," he says again. "So, instead of paying me double, you can pay him the same as you pay me. Right? He'll do it."
I'm not positive we're talking about the same thing.
"He... really? He will? Where is..."
Cam whispers, "He does that all the time for our friend... the guy we stay with."
"He does?"
Cam nods with that same smirk from earlier.
"So..." I squint my eyes shut, "your brother is at home or...?"
"I'll go get him. It's not far," the boy answers enthusiastically.
I feel paranoia creeping up my back. "I have a bad feeling about this, Cam," I chuckle nervously. "You're not going to get your friend to beat my ass and rob me, are you?" I close my pants and snap them.
"No no no!" Cam shushes me, taking my hand.
I continue, "'cause he wouldn't get much money from me. I only brought enough with me for..."
"No, I promise," the boy interrupts, tracing the shape of the cross on his chest. "And then you'll have two... me and my brother!" he smiles wide like a salesman. "You'll pay my brother the same as me, right? ...and he'll do that... what you like."
I blink, nodding.
"Don't worry, I'll be right back. Five minutes." He unlocks the door and quickly disappears.
~
It's closer to ten minutes and I'm getting a bad feeling about this. Just when I'm telling myself 'one more minute, then I'm bailing,' the door opens and Cam hurries into the room, followed by a smaller kid,
much smaller.
"...come on, Little Bean"
I feel my eyes grow wide. "This is your brother?"
I assumed he meant his older brother.
Cam nods. "This is Faber."
My heart sinks. This whole thing is spiraling out of control.
no way can I... no way can he...
this little kid?
I heave a sigh. "So... uh, Bean?"
"Oh, we just call him that sometimes," Cam explains.
Faber the Little Bean is barefoot, dusty shirt and shorts that look like they've never seen a laundromat, not even once — a miniature version of Cam, same haircut, and just as cute. He's holding another obviously-dead phone. The screen is not only cracked, but is missing a piece.
"James Rodriguez," Faber whispers to his big brother, nodding towards the phone. Then into the phone, he whines, "Yes... I DO want to play baseball with you... but I'm busy... do you know Tony Stark? He's coming to my house later, yeah."
The strong smell of mint or menthol wafts from the boy's mouth as he talks — reminds me of Vicks VapoRub. Ah, Childhood memories. I see the lump in his cheek and realize he is sucking on a throat lozenge, or something like that.
I nudge Cam and whisper. "Your brother is too young!"
"Don't worry. He's done it lots of times, right Little Bean?" Big brother Cam uses his thumb to make an exaggerated sucking-dick gesture, in and out.
"Hey!" Faber scolds. "Not supposed to tell about that!"
"Shhh! He's going to pay you, though, remember?"
The Little Bean cocks his head. "Oh yeah." Then he stands on his tip-toes for no apparent reason, then back down, then up, then down, then he talks more into his phone, then he mumbles some unrecognizable comment to no one in particular. Then he says to me, "You're tall!"
"Shhh!" Cam shushes his little brother again.
It occurs to me that the kid is a bit hyperactive. I mumble to Cam, "He's not old enough for... this."
"Yes I am," Faber interrupts. "He tucks his broken phone under his chin then displays five fingers plus one extra finger on his other hand.
"See?" Cam flashes his handsome smile at me then hops on top of the ottoman again and crouches down onto his knees.
With my hand over my forehead, I mumble, "Holy Mother..."
I consider calling the whole thing off — pay the boys for their time and trouble, then make a run for it — but Cam reaches forward and unsnaps my pants. "Faber," he whispers, "See? He's okay... and he's nice."
I can't help myself — Cam's compliment causes me to flash my own big silly smile and Faber snorts a laugh, moving in closer, standing next to the ottoman to watch his brother.
Cam again has my already-hard dick in his hand, sliding it like before. I'm embarrassed about the Little Bean suddenly seeing my instant boner, but I get over it quick enough. Cam and him probably have more experience than I'll ever have.
Faber reaches forward and pokes the side of my dick with his finger, looks up at me and smirks, just like his brother's smirk.
"Do I pass?" I chuckle.
Little Bean laughs, but I doubt he got the joke.
Cam glances at his watch then leans his head forward and once more slides his mouth over the end of my dick. He sucks on it for a few seconds, then slides in and out, in and out...
Again, I aim the phone, recording the image of the sweet ten-year-old face with my erection sliding in and out of his mouth.
Faber doesn't look shocked or surprised. He cranes his head over to see the my phone screen and the image of his big brother sucking my dick. He seems more interested in the phone than in the close-up image of his brother's face performing an x-rated act on an adult.
Cam finally stops and pulls away. To his little brother, he says, "Alex is going to pay you half, up front... right Alex?"
I nod and pull out the bills and hand them to Faber. He claps his hands happily, then snatches the money. He examines the bills closely, turns them over, looks again, turns them over, looks again, then stuffs them into his front pocket. He puts his dead phone to his ear. "I'll call back later, okay?" then returns the phone to his back pocket.
Cam is still holding my dick in his hand.
Faber asks, "We supposed to take turns?"
"Yeah, but..." Cam whispers in his little bother's ear. "pss-pssst... something-something... pssst... remember?"
Faber nods and leans forward, his little face brushes past his brother's, but at the last second, he stops and pulls the menthol lozenge from his mouth and stuffs it in his other pocket, and then without another word, slides his little mouth over my swelled purple knob and sucks on it. I almost gasp from the suddenness of it all.
"Holy Mother, forgive me," I pray again, under my breath.
He does it all the time for our friend, Cam confided earlier.
yes, apparently.
Lucky friend.
Right away, I see this is different, and I feel this is different. Different than his big brother. The Little Bean sucks and slurps on my knob, and slurps some more, but he does it so non-nonchalantly — like slurping on a pop-sickle in front of the TV, watching Spongebob.
His slippery little tongue and lips are warm and velvety, sliding and sucking. No shyness, no awkwardness. I'm amazed that this appears so normal to him. I think, 'Yeah, like a pop-sickle'... or he's slurping down ice cream instead of my throbbing dick head.
Does this little boy actually lust to suck on my dick? No, it's more like... a pastime, or a habit — doesn't mind doing it, either. Then I think: I wonder if the guy he usually does this for would be jealous, if he saw?
Out of nowhere, I feel a stab of guilt. Such a small innocent boy. It's maddening, what I feel: simultaneous shame -verses- intense lust.
Then it's gone again, the shame — obliterated by the excruciating pleasure of Little Bean's sweet, wet, warm mouth. "Mmm, God, kid," I whisper dreamily. I brush my hand down his little face.
Cam is still pumping my pole but Faber takes it, wraps his fingers around it and starts pumping while he sucks on my knob.
For a second, I feel his teeth scrape me. "Dont bite me, Little Bean," I tease him.
"He giggles with my dick-head stuffed in his mouth."
Cam says, "He knows how to do this. You're an expert, right Faber!"
"mmfyeah," Faber answers proudly, his pursed lips look swelled and puckered in an exaggerated kiss, or as though he is sucking on an over-sized tootsie-roll pop, his little tongue rolling, wrapping and sliding around the dripping, purple plumb. The boy's slobber escapes his lips and drips to his chin. He doesn't seem to notice or care.
Cam puts his hand over Faber's hand and moves it faster in and out while Faber sucks, maybe to remind little brother they don't want to be here all day.
All day. Good Lord... I imagine the brothers sucking on me all day...
Faber pulls away and Cam moves in and slides his mouth over my wet erection again, halfway down the poll. In and out, in and out...
I shiver and reach for Faber's little hand and place it on my balls. He instantly cups them and starts messaging me while watching the phone screen. He's done this before too, apparently — massaged someone's balls. There's no doubt about it.
The way big brother is pumping my dick with his mouth, halfway down the pole, in, out, in, out — he seems determined to bring me to the edge.
And soon enough, I feel it. Already. Getting closer. In the distance. Coming.
I zoom in, the screen is a close up of Cam's lips, sliding in, out, in, out,
"Going to cum," I moan. "Almost... I'm going to..."
Cam lets go of me and pushes the Little Bean's head forward. He immediately slides his velvety wet lips over my knob and resumes his slurping and sucking. His little hands wrap around my pole and pump it, in out, in out...
I groan, "Faber... ohh..."
It's coming and there's no stopping it now. I feel my hips try to buck forward but I resist. Instead, I slide my hand down the Little Bean's sweet face as his mouth works and sucks and slurps on the swelled knob. This time, I place Cam's hands on my balls. He kneads and massages them, just as Faber did.
"Oh..oh..ohhhh" I shiver and I feel my entire dick throb and expand
...and release a load of cum into the Little Bean's sweet mouth. He doesn't stop or slow or even make a face. He works his mouth and pumps me with his hands. "Faber, fuuu..." I croon, trying to hold the phone steady on his face. I see his throat swallow and I feel another spasm. He swallows again, still working his mouth, his tongue. I see the white juice all around the edges of his lips.
"Taste good?" older brother nudges him.
Faber snorts a laugh and pearly-white juice leaks from his lips and runs down his chin. He opens his cum-filled mouth long enough to say "lots of ..." but another pulse of sperm flows onto his open lips and more runs down his chin, down my pole and over his hands, then he quickly closes his mouth around the knob and swallows again.
I half expect him to let go and run away. Not this kid. He continues to suck and slurp on the remainder of the flowing cum, now pumping slower with his hands. I see his throat swallow again one last time.
Finally, the little boy lets go, looks up at me with cum hanging from his mouth and chin... and burps.
Cam laughs. I laugh. And the Little Bean laughs. He reaches into his pocket with his wet hand then pops the menthol candy back into his mouth. "That was a lot!" Faber exclaims while he wipes the back of his arm across his face, which doesn't help much.
"Sorry," I mumble, bashfully. I see a reasonably clean armchair-cover draped over the back of a torn stuffed chair. Cam sees what I'm going for and grabs it first then wipes it across his little brothers mouth and chin.
The Little Bean now has the same lozenge lump in his cheek as when he arrived. It occurs to me then: the extra-strength menthol lozenge covers up taste, pretty much all tastes, as I recall. Maybe that's why he doesn't mind.
"Cam... Faber... that was awesome! I loved it! It felt great." On my knees, I hug them both at the same time. They politely hug me in return.
Faber answers in an all-business voice, "No problem, man," as he pulls the phone from his back pocket and puts it to his ear then says to an imaginary person on the other end, "Yeah, he's going to pay me the rest now."
I chuckle and pull the bills from my pocket then hand over the remainder that I owe Cam, plus some extra. He sees that it's more than the agreed upon price and looks up at me, double-checking my expression, maybe to see if I'm making a mistake. I smile sincerely, as I feel in my heart at this moment.
Then I give the same amount to little Faber. Again, he claps as he reaches for the money. He looks the bills over carefully, as before, flipping them over every which way, then stuffs them in his pocket.
"You're a nice kid, Cam. I hope you stay in school. Your brother too."
Cam smiles politely and says "See ya, Alex," and heads for the door. Faber follows.
"Wait, you guys!"
The boys pause at the door.
"What if I find myself in the neighborhood again... can I... will you... keep an eye out for me?"
"Cam nods with interest, "Okay."
"Okay," Faber repeats his brother.
I continue, "Or... what if I paid you enough to spend a whole hour with me... in a vacation cabin? Would you want to do that?"
"Vacation cabin?"
I nod. "They're rentals... single cabins, for privacy, near the parks. And after we... um, after the hour, we can play a video game, or whatever... if you want.
Cam seems to be processing in his head. "For an hour?" He silently counts his fingers, doing the math.
"Me too?"
I nod again, smiling at Faber.
He adds, "and more money?"
I nod.
"Okay," the boys answer in unison.
"When?" Cam asks.
I shrug. "When do you want to?"
"Tomorrow!" little Faber volunteers.
I laugh and think: 'Tomorrow is Sunday. No work. And assuming a cabin is available...' I agree, "Okay."
CONTINUED
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